globalisation and sustainable

Globalization and Sustainable Development: Issues and Applications Edited by Rebecca Lee Harris Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions University of South Florida

Published in 2006 by: Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions University of South Florida 4202 East Fowler Avenue, SOC102 Tampa, Florida 33620-6912 Phone: (813) 974-2954 Fax: (813) 974-2522 Email: [email protected] Website: http://www.cas.usf.edu/globalresearch Cover design by Rebecca Hagen, in focus design, Tampa, FL Cover photograph, “Small-scale fishers using gillnets in the Gulf of San Miguel, Panama,” by Daniel Suman, Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science, University of Miami Printing by Pro-Copy, Tampa, FL The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors, and do not necessarily reflect those of the publisher. Obtainable from the Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions at the University of South Florida. ISBN: 0-9742736-9-4

Globalization and Sustainable Development: Issues and Applications

Contents Figures vii

Maps viii

Tables ix

Foreword 1

Rebecca Lee Harris

Part I: Broad Perspectives

1 The Evolution of “Sustainable Development” 13

Renu Khator and Lisa Fairchild

2 Sustainable Development: The World Is Still Oceans Apart! 23

O.P. Dwivedi

3 Third Systems, Human Security, and Sustainable Development 43

Jorge Nef

vi

Part II: Economic and Political Considerations

4 Shaping Globalization for Sustainable Development 61

Kwabena Gyimah-Brempong

5 Trade and Sustainable Development at the World Trade Organization: Toward a Decision on Genetically Modified Organisms

84

Michael Miller

Part III: Grassroots Movements

6 Sustainable Community for Sustainable Development: “Mujeres Reunidas” and the Hñähñu of Hidalgo, Mexico

109

Ella Schmidt

7 Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 133

Gurleen Grewal

8 To Save a City: Grassroots Movement toward Reforestation in Ica, Peru

147

Richard Weisskoff

Part IV: Natural Resource Use and Policy

9 Environmental Degradation in a Conservation Model: Major Forest Loss in Costa Rica’s Amistad-Caribe Conservation Area

165

Michael Miller

10 The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama (Darién Province): Unsustainable Harvest of a Valuable Export Product and Its Limited Impact on Local Community Development

192

Daniel Suman

About the Authors 221

Figures 4.1 Average Annual Rural Population Growth Rate

69

4.2 Percentage Annual Change in Environmental Index

70

8.1 Direction of the mudslides, Ica, January 29, 19

150

8.2 Looking toward Ica and the Ocean from atop a Mud Slide, Cansas Canyon

151

8.3 Panorama of the Cansas Canyon, Ica, Peru

157

8.4 The Future Vision of the Cansas Canyon

158

Maps 9.1 Location of the ACLAC within Costa Rica’s National System

of Conservation Areas

166

9.2 Map of Costa Rica with Political Boundaries and Topography

167

10.1 Map of Eastern Panama and the Darien Region

194

10.2 Important Fishing Zones in Panama

197

10.3 Coastal Communities in Darien Province

199

10.4 Important Shrimp Harvesting Areas for the Artisanal Fishing Fleet in the Gulf of San Miguel

203

Tables 1.1 Comparing Development and Sustainable Development

18

1.2 Sustainable Development in the Global Context

19

3.1 Human Security/Insecurity: Analytical Matrix

57

4.1 Environmental Indicators, 2000

68

10.1 Shrimp Permits per Community Granted by the DGRMC, 1996, 2003

201

10.2 Finfish Permits per Community Granted by the DGRMC, 1996, 2003

201

10.3 Numbers and Percentages of Fishers in Coastal Communities, 2000

202

Foreword Rebecca Lee Harris

INTRODUCTION This book examines the relationship between two of the most

used and abused catchphrases of our times—globalization and sustainable development. While in some circles, being “in favor” of one implies the demise of the other, the chapters in this book suggest that both are forces with which we must simultaneously contend. Indeed, it is only by embracing and yet harnessing globalization’s impacts that our world’s societies and economies can develop in a sustainable manner.

The modern era of globalization may be rooted in the economic consequences of the dismantling of barriers to international trade and finance. However, in a broader sense, globalization includes the increased connectivity of people around the world not just because of an increased exchange of goods, services and capital. Improvements in transportation and changing economic opportunities have led to an increase in movements of peoples, both through migration as well as tourism. Improved communications technology has also increased connections among people and peoples worldwide. Many would argue that globalization is not a new phenomenon, but rather one that has been occurring to some extent since the beginning of human history. However, there is a general consensus that the rate of globalization has increased in recent years and certainly our awareness of it (and accompanying debate over it) has as well.

2 Rebecca Lee Harris

As several authors in this book note, the concept of sustainable development first came into our common vernacular with the publication of “Our Common Future,” the report issued by the U.N. Commission on Environment and Development (often called the “Brundtland Commission,” after Gro Brundtland, the head of the commission). The report refers to sustainable development as that which “meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” (p. 8) Sustainable development requires a holistic view toward growth and environmental stewardship, taking into account poverty and inequality, human health and human capital, differences in cultures, political conditions (including government budget pressures), and global markets among other factors.

Given the complexity of the impacts of globalization and the causes of sustainable or unsustainable development, it is no surprise that the nexus of the two is not straightforward either. The relationship differs across and within countries, as well as among different aspects of environmental issues. For example, the increased trade associated with globalization causes a shift in national production as countries expand production in goods for which they have an international market and contract production of other goods for which it is economically more efficient to import. In the United States, this has manifested itself in a shift from heavy manufacturing to “cleaner” types of production, such as service industries. However, many of the industries in the new economy of the U.S. have their own environmental problems; witness the growing problem of hazardous waste caused by dumping high-tech products. In some poorer countries, pressures to export high-value agricultural products, for example, often lead to unsustainable agricultural practices, such as mono-cropping or intensive use of pesticides and other chemicals.

Globalization may have positive or negative impacts on individual or country-level incomes. The effects of these income changes on sustainable development are also not clear cut. On a micro level, as people’s incomes rise, they are likely to have better education and more access to information which may help them make more environmentally positive choices. In addition, individuals can afford more environmentally-friendly goods, whether it be cleaner fuels, fuel efficient cars, or products with recycled

Foreword 3

components. For a number of reasons, increased incomes slow population growth, which is imperative to slowing down the use of our natural resources. At the national level, wealthier countries are more likely to have and enforce environmental regulations.

On the other hand, increased incomes have some detrimental impacts on sustainability. As people’s incomes rise, they are also more likely to consume more, including driving more, driving bigger cars, demanding goods with more packaging (leading to more solid waste), and demanding more energy and water.

However, not all segments of the population receive the economic benefits of globalization. Jobs may be lost due to international competition, or social safety nets (such as food subsidies) may be erased due to pressures from the international lending community. For those whose incomes fall, the above-mentioned effects on sustainability are reversed. In particular, food insecurity in developing countries forces poor families to employ environmentally unsustainable farming practices such as farming on fragile lands or clearing forests to grow produce. In general, lower incomes shorten one’s time horizon such that poor families must pay more attention to meeting current needs than worrying about future needs. This, unfortunately, runs counter to the definition of sustainable development as defined above.

In addition to economic manifestations, globalization is seen in the increased movements of peoples, both within and among countries. Improvements in transportation have eased the way for migrants and travelers. Increased economic, educational and social opportunities make urban areas, in particular, more attractive for migrants. Rapid urbanization and the growth of mega-cities put stresses on water and sanitation systems, increase traffic congestion and pollution, and result in a loss of habitat as urban areas expand outward. Tourism is another outcome of globalization forces. While often promoted as a “clean” tool for economic development, often the opposite is true. Large hotels, inefficiently expending water and other natural resources, and influxes of tourists in environmentally fragile areas, are just two ways that tourism often harms the very resources that attracted visitors in the first place.

Whether or not increased connectivity among peoples encourages or discourages sustainable development is also up for debate. The proliferation of non-governmental organizations (NGOs)


has given a national and international voice to many concerns previously unheard or ignored, while simultaneously linking activists from around the world. The increased presence of civil society groups both physically, at international forums, and virtually, through improved communications technologies, has broadened international awareness of a range of factors impacting sustainable development. Increased contact with other peoples also impacts cultural norms around the world about protecting the environment, strengthening some and weakening others.

ABOUT THE BOOK This book is the result of two symposia held at the University of

South Florida, in Tampa, Florida, in 2005, sponsored by the Patel Center. The first symposium, held in April 2005, was designed to give an overview of the issues involved in globalization and sustainable development. The second symposium, held in June 2005, looked specifically at how poverty is related to sustainability, using country case studies from around the world. The book loosely follows the format of the symposia, starting with the initial contextual presentations given by Renu Khator and Lisa Fairchild, O.P. Dwivedi, and Jorge Nef. These are followed by broad perspectives on the political and economic dimensions of globalization and the environment, with papers by Michael Miller and Kwabena Brempong. Ella Schmidt’s presentation from the first symposium joins those of Gurleen Grewal and Richard Weisskoff from the June symposium. These three papers present case studies of grassroots movements to reduce poverty and improve the environment. The final part of the book examines specific natural resource use and policy, with research by Michael Miller and Daniel Suman.

The three chapters in Part I of this book provide an overview of the issues related to globalization and sustainable development. Khator and Fairchild trace the history of the term “sustainable development” since the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment. International environment summits have since increased in importance and political influence, while the number of attendees, both at the state and grassroots level, has grown. The authors describe a holistic approach to sustainable development

Foreword 5

which includes equality, quality of life issues, sustaining resources, both human and natural, and meeting international obligations. Complementing this is the positive correlation between global economic integration and the ability to protect the environment and develop in a sustainable way. While the term “sustainable development” has now become part of our lexicon, the authors caution that it can be abused by those hoping to continue behaving in a “business as usual” modus operandi.

In the next chapter, Dwivedi looks at “sustainable development” from the perspective of North-South relations. He suggests that it is time to re-think the North-South relationship. Since global environmental problems are not constrained by national boundaries nor by national incomes, the North and South must face these problems as equals who are dependent on one another. Dwivedi posits that poverty is the greatest cause of environmental degradation, particularly via the high rates of population growth that accompany poverty. For Dwivedi, then, poverty and underdevelopment must be addressed in order to ensure sustainable development. In Chapter 3, Nef takes a similar approach, looking at how global inequalities impact the broader concept of human security, which includes environmental security. Nef traces the connection between inequality and unsustainable development, and suggests that the resultant insecurity causes global vulnerability. As in the previous chapter, Nef suggests that globalization has made all countries interdependent, regardless of level of development. Thus, as long as the South is insecure, the North will be as well. He proposes that the environment agenda provides an opportunity to reformulate the global agenda for human security, with a citizens-based perspective.

Part II of this book analyzes the relationship between globalization and sustainable development through two broad social dimensions: economic and political. Brempong (Chapter 4) analyzes the impact of economic globalization, which he considers inevitable and, on net, beneficial. Because globalization enables producers to substitute environmentally harmful production methods for more benign ones, opening up markets can, in fact, have environmental benefits. In addition, according to international trade theory, economic openness and increased influence from international research and development lead to increased growth. The resulting


raised incomes has a positive effect on the environment. Given the high correlation between poverty and environmental degradation, Brempong suggests that it is not globalization, per se, that is harming the environment, but rather, globalization-induced poverty that is the culprit. In order for globalization to help less developed countries (LDCs) grow sustainably, they must learn to harness its forces to their advantage. This occurs in two ways: internally, countries must enact proper safeguards and correct institutional problems (e.g., develop land tenure systems, reform political institutions, and “get prices right”). Globalization only exacerbates domestic problems that already exist. Externally, LDCs must make sure they are part of the international debate on environmental and trade treaties, partners in crafting policy and in taking responsibility.

In Chapter 5, Miller looks more closely at the politics of these international agreements, using the GMO (genetically modified organisms) debate between the U.S. and the European Union as a laboratory. Regardless of the state of development of the participating countries, there is an inherent conflict between international environmental agreements and other international laws. Trade expansion will always raise problems of protecting the environment and human health. Two main suggestions from the author echo themes raised in earlier chapters: globalization can be taken advantage of to standardize safety information worldwide, which would benefit not only the disputing parties, but countries around the world; and, the author calls for increased participation from civil society groups and NGOs, who can ensure greater global representation in these debates.

In Part III, three country-case studies examine poverty and sustainable development from the grassroots level. Schmidt highlights the importance of including culture in any efforts to offer sustainable development programs in Chapter 6. An indigenous community from Hidalgo, Mexico, the Hñähñu, are an example of how globalization’s impact on culture strengthens environmental sustainability efforts. While the Hñähñu population in Mexico has dramatically decreased due to migration to the U.S., cultural norms dictate that its “citizens” continue to participate in the home community, regardless of where the migrants live. Within that obligation is a strong commitment to environmental stewardship. In the community of El Alberto, a women’s cooperative has sprung up

Foreword 7

in response to the economic pressures faced particularly by the women who have been left behind by their migrating families. Developed using a “bottom up” approach, the cooperative has used indigenous knowledge to create products from the native maguey (century plant). In a perfect example of sustainable development, the women now have an incentive to re-forest their land with maguey, and as a result, they are gaining income as well as business know-how. The women benefit from a second globalization factor in force: they sell their products on global markets, with the assistance of NGOs whose very purpose is to serve as a broker for these activities.

In Chapter 7, Grewal examines three grassroots movements of underserved Indian groups, representing poor women, oppressed castes and indigenous tribes, to protect the environment and fight against poverty. Implicit in Grewal’s analysis is a built-in tension between the North and South, between the elite and the poor. She further points out that there is a strong relationship between poverty and gender inequity; reducing both of these problems is a necessary component of sustainable development. Grewal introduces the concept of “ecofeminism” – the idea that women and nature are both “objects of mastery for the western rational male subject.” Ecofeminism, as more broadly interpreted in India, is a driving force behind the holistic grassroots movements to improve women’s livelihoods, the environment, and rights of the poor, among others. This perspective also suggests, as mentioned in earlier chapters of this book, that if women are given more economic choices and security, it will lead to reduced population growth. Similarly, infrastructural changes, such as conferring property rights to women and empowering local communities, will help them be more effective stewards of the environment.

The final case study of environmental activism coming from the ground up is Weisskoff’s report on the city of Ica, Peru. For decades, Ica has been caught in a pattern of city development followed by destruction from mudslides. A group led by three citizens is working to overcome these natural disasters that have been compounded by human activity. Their solution lies in building natural dams with an indigenous tree, the huarango, which would not only provide environmental services (such as stemming soil loss and improving soil with the decomposition of its leaves), but could also provide an income source through its by-products (such as its fruit and its leaves


which provide forage for animals). The reforestation effort has the added benefit of providing jobs, another cog in the sustainable development cycle.

Finally, Part IV of this book looks at the unsustainable use of natural resources and policy efforts to protect those resources. Miller’s case study of forest use in one area of Costa Rica (Chapter 8) shows that even in a country with a reputation for sound natural resource management policies, deforestation is still a problem. In spite of a law protecting forests, which the author evaluates as following sustainability principles, legal and judicial weaknesses, poverty and insecure property rights add up to major problems in the study region. Peasants are forced by poverty to cut down trees for short-term income and space for farming. In addition, squatters clear land in an attempt to secure land tenure. Intermediaries further pressure peasants to cut trees in an unsustainable manner. Corrupt regulators and weak enforcement further compound the problem. Miller offers policy solutions to attempt to correct the structural barriers to improved forest stewardship, including market-based incentives which reward forest owners who protect their land.

While Suman’s chapter (Chapter 9) examines the shrimp industry in eastern Panama, many of the principles from the previous chapter still hold. Suman studies a poor, isolated region where shrimp exports are a major source of income. However, overfishing by small and large-scale fishers (with the social tensions implied by the relationship between these two groups) and weak government enforcement are putting future catch in jeopardy. While the majority of shrimp is destined for international markets, the number of intermediate steps involved (processing, packaging, etc.) between the point of capture and the market suggests that the locals do not reap much of the profits in the final sale of the shrimp, thereby necessitating even more exploitation of the resource. Local investment to keep related value-added activities within the region, as well as to offer economic alternatives to shrimping, and increased government regulations and legislation will be necessary to improve the sustainability of the industry.

Foreword 9

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS Many of this book’s authors conclude that, ultimately, the

factors associated with globalization impact the environment most through the ways in which they affect poverty. Poverty, in turn, is shown to be at the root of many sources of environmental degradation. To some extent, however, loss of natural resources can itself contribute to poverty. Either way, the marginalized members of society often bear the brunt of this loss, whether it be in terms of longer searches for clean water or more difficulty in providing food for themselves and their families.

Related to this is the extent to which inequalities prevent more environmentally healthy behaviors and policies. At a global level, many authors point out, the uneven relationship between countries of the North and South has led to environmental policies that exclude the poorer countries. Similarly, within countries, national and regional policies must address income and gender inequalities to ensure that all segments of the population are included. Since environmental problems are not constrained by national boundaries, gender differences or socio-economic distinctions, environmental solutions must be comprehensive and inclusive in scope.

Many of the authors underscore the importance of grassroots movements and paying attention to local cultural practices. Indigenous knowledge and products can and do contribute to sustainable development behaviors. At the same time, governments must set aside resources in order to create workable regulations, with accompanying monitoring and enforcement. Governments must also address underlying institutional issues, particularly land tenure systems, effective judicial and legal systems and transparent regulatory systems, which contribute to sustainable development.

In short, developing sustainably in today’s globalized world requires a holistic and integrated approach. The authors of this book, while coming from a variety of academic backgrounds and perspectives, all acknowledge that no one discipline will suffice in tackling the problem. Given the inevitability of globalization and the necessity to develop sustainably, this book provides some roadmaps to comprehensive and practical solutions for policymakers and communities.


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The Center gratefully acknowledges the participation of all of

the authors for their presentations and written work. We also appreciated the oral presentations by Steve Lerner from Commonweal, and Ambe Njoh from the University of South Florida, St. Petersburg, at the June symposium. The papers were all reviewed by members of the Patel Center Editorial Board and edited by Lavina Fielding Anderson. Carylanna Bahamondes provided invaluable administrative support as well as the design and layout of the manuscript. Finally, we are grateful to O.P. Dwivedi who initiated and championed this project and inspired all of us with his enthusiasm.

REFERENCE World Commission on Environment and Development. (1987). Our common

future. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

9 Part I: Broad Perspectives

1 1 The Evolution of “Sustainable Development” Renu Khator and Lisa Fairchild

INTRODUCTION Though the term “sustainable development” was not popularized

until the 1980’s, the concept dates back to the 18th century when the term “sustainable” was used to indicate concern about logging practices (Dwivedi et al., 2001, p. 220). Over the years, the concept has evolved and become a buzz-word for both environmentalists and industrialists, with little agreement on the definition. This paper traces the evolution of “sustainable development” from its inception in the international realm at the 1972 Stockholm Conference through the 2002 Johannesburg Summit and beyond.

So, why has sustainable development become popularized? Sustainable development offers an alternative to the traditional concept of development, which focused on growth as the ultimate end and regarded the means to achieve this end as irrelevant. Soon, the antithesis to this dominant thesis emerged in the form of radicalism in which development was interpreted as evil. It was undesirable both as a means and as an end. Later years witnessed the emergence of a synthesis in the form of sustainable development, which implied that development may be desirable if approached within a holistic framework. The emergence and evolution of the

14 Renu Khator and Lisa Fairchild

concept of sustainable development reflects an increased awareness and interest in the long term view of development and the necessity to preserve environmental integrity in a time of increasing development.

SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT: DEFINED The root of the word sustainable comes from sus-tenere,

meaning to uphold. Additionally, Webster’s Dictionary (1999, p. 1111) defines “sustainable” as “to keep in existence; to give support or relief to; to supply with sustenance.” These definitions indicate that an important aspect of sustainable development is its pro-active nature (Khator, 1998). Other definitions of sustainable also support its active nature and supply additional principles to the concept. Odum (1971, p. 223) applies the concept of sustainability to the biological sciences and writes that sustainable behavior is “prudent behavior by a predator that avoids over exploiting its prey to ensure an optimum sustainable yield.” This definition indicates that in addition to being active, sustainability is also self-regulating. Sustainable behavior also implies maintenance of equilibrium, as evidenced by Hicks’ definition. Hicks (1946, p. 172) defines sustainability as being able to maximize “the value one can consume during a week and still expect to be as well off at the end of the week as...at the beginning” (Khator, 1998). Sustainable development is equated with motion and continuous growth for Ophuls and Boyan (1977) who explain that sustainability provides a “dynamic equilibrium affording ample scope for continued artistic, intellectual, moral, scientific and spiritual growth.”

Sustainable development also includes an intergenerational component, “a pattern of social and structural economic transformations (i.e., development) which optimizes the economic and other social benefits available in the present without jeopardizing the likely potential for similar benefits in the future” (Goodman and Redclift, 1991, p. 36). Sustainability also implies equality, in a qualitative sense, as explained by Korton (1990, p. 67), as “...a process by which the members of a society increase their personal and institutional capacities to mobilize and manage resources to produce sustainable and justly distributed improvements in quality of life consistent with their own aspirations.” Finally, Barbier (1987, p. 103) integrates the

The Evolution of “Sustainable Development” 15

holistic nature of sustainable development in his definition which is “to maximize simultaneously the biological system goals (genetic diversity, resilience, biological productivity), economic system goals (satisfaction of basic needs, enhancement of equity, increasing useful goods and services), and social system goals (cultural diversity, institutional sustainability, social justice, participation).”

Though there are many definitions of sustainable development, the most popular is that of the World Commission on Environment and Development, or the “Brundtland Commission.” In 1987, the Bruntland Commission defined sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” (1987, p. 89). While there is no consensus on the precise definition of “sustainable development,” the general concept has succeeded in permeating international discussions on the environment beginning with the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment.

EVOLUTION OF THE AGENDA During the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, a number of

publications inspired interest in the environmental movement. Of specific interest were Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1962) and Garret Hardin’s The Tragedy of the Commons (1968). Following Carson’s lead, many people in the 1960s predicted a doomsday in the 1960s and called for an immediate moratorium on growth, for they believed growth to be the root cause of environmental destruction (Meadows, 1972). Such concerns were voiced at the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment. Originally, developing nations, particularly the South, planned on boycotting the conference; however, they chose to participate once the scope of development was broadened to include issues of poverty and other ills of underdevelopment. Ultimately, representatives from 111 countries attended the Conference, although only two heads of state (India and Sweden) were in attendance. Though the conference is perceived as having limited success, it elevated environmental concerns to an international level.

Numerous short-comings were identified as contributing to the limited success of the Stockholm Conference: first, development was


presented as black and white; second, pollution was defined as a purely environmental problem with no regards given to the social aspects; and third, the conference ignored the agenda of the developing countries. Despite these shortcomings, important developments were made and the conference led to the development of the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), the Stockholm Declaration on Human Environment, several multilateral environmental agreements, and environmental policies in many countries.

There would be two critical developments between this and the 1992 “Earth Summit” in Rio De Janeiro. In 1982, the World Commission on Environment and Development was formed. Consequently, the report Our Common Future was published in 1987, and introduced the term “sustainable development,” as defined in the previous section. Additionally, in 1986, new trade talks, which would lead to the creation of the World Trade Organization in 1994, reinforced the idea that the world had shrunk and a global dialog on “new” development had become necessary. Following these developments, the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio advanced the agenda of the 1972 Stockholm Conference.

The 1992 Earth Summit expanded in scope, as well as in attendance, from its 1972 predecessor. In attendance were representatives from 167 nations as well as 116 heads of state. In addition to the increased government participation, 7,892 representatives from non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and 8,000 journalists were also present for the summit (Johnson, 1993). This marked increase in attendance over the 1972 Stockholm Conference indicates an increased inclusivity with public, private and non-profit sectors. Despite the appearance of increased inclusivity, the attention paid to the developing nations of the South was not satisfactory, and the ability to positively affect the environment still remained in the hands of the North. Additionally, trade patterns still remained skewed to the North. Finally, international agencies were failing to create real opportunities for the South. In order to address these concerns, Agenda 21 was created at the Earth Summit as a plan of action, and the Commission of Sustainable Development was established in order to monitor progress. Again, there would be significant developments between the 1992 Earth Summit and the 2002 Johannesburg Summit.


One of the major outcomes of the Uruguay Roundtable, held January 1, 1995, was the establishment of the World Trade Organization (WTO), which would shape the global economy by providing free trade of goods across national borders. The development of the WTO also had significant implications for the environment. According to Muller-Kraenner (2002, p. 19) its establishment demonstrated a move from “the classic treatment of environmental and development issues to more confrontational discussions over economic globalizations.” This shift in focus has generated severe criticism. The most severe critique of free trade is that it encourages countries to ignore their commitments to environmental obligations and human rights (Esty, 1994; Barrett, 1994; Rauscher, 1994). Critics argue that in pursuit of global business, poor countries create free zones with relaxed environmental laws, unregulated labor, and undesirable subsidies. These concerns would be voiced at the Johannesburg Summit in 2002.

The growing concern over global environmental issues was reflected by the participation at the 2002 Johannesburg Summit. It was attended by over 22,000 people including 100 heads of state, 10,000 delegates, 8,000 group representatives and 4,000 members of the media (United Nations, 2003). There were five major issues addressed at this meeting: water/sanitation, energy, health, agricultural productivity and biodiversity protection/ecosystem management (United Nations, 2003). This summit, like the ones before, was perceived as a missed opportunity which depended on the cooperation of rich nations for success, and failed to address North/South disparities.

SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT REVISITED The objectives of sustainable development have been

summarized by the Government of Canada (2002) as a virtuous cycle with five components: (1) promoting equality, (2) improving the quality of life and well-being, (3) sustaining natural resources—along with sustainable jobs, communities and industries, (4) protecting human and ecosystem health, and (5) meeting international obligations. Though this circle was designed to illustrate Canada’s objectives of sustainable development for its citizens, the objectives can be generalized to apply to all nations.


Additionally, to better understand the objectives of sustainable development, it is helpful to examine the characteristics that distinguish “development” from “sustainable development,” shown in the following table (Khator, 1998, 1788-1789). Sustainable development is distinct from development in its emphasis, scope, political sphere, cultural context, decision-making system and accountability. It is holistic, comprehensive, active, engaging, participatory and responsible. Table 1.1 Comparing Development and Sustainable Development

Characteristic Development Sustainable

Development Emphasis Economic_ Comprehensive

Scope Developing Countries All Countries

Political Sphere Neutral Active and Engaging

Cultural Context Neutral Differencespreclude replicability

Operational Mode Unilateral transfer of knowledge

Bilateral transfer of lessons

Decision-Making System

Centralized Administration

Decentralized Administration

Non-Governmental Involvement

No role of non-governmental actors

Dependent on non-governmental actors

Role of Foreign Aid

Aid is a privilege Aid is a responsibility

Accountability No accountability Accountability to people and to the international

community Source: Khator, 1998

Though much progress has been made since the initial summit in Stockholm, the concept of “sustainable development” still has a long way to go. Despite the universal validity of the concept, it has yet to gain paradigmatic coherence. Additionally, the term is used widely by environmentalists and industrialists, by users as well as abusers. As critics of “sustainable development” point out, the term may mean little more than business as usual. Lele (1991, p. 619) sums it


up by stating that “sustainable development is an attempt to have one’s cake and eat it too.” An additional obstacle to the success of sustainable development is weak global governance which makes it a “common good” agenda item. Finally, the global context of trade poses significant challenges in terms of human security—including human rights, poverty and scarcity.

The integration of a country into the global economy may impact that country’s ability to achieve the conditions necessary for sustainable development. Depending on its level of integration (core, peripheral, sub-peripheral) the impact of free trade will be different on a country’s economic, political, and social agenda and consequently, the country will find that its capacity to adhere to its environmental and human rights obligations varies. Free trade is neither good nor bad for sustainable development, nor is its impact the same for all countries. We hypothesize that a country’s position in the global economy plays an important intervening role in defining the sustainable agenda of the country. The following table provides a conceptual model of the impact of free trade on the economies of trading countries and on their environmental obligations, which are critical to sustainable development in a global context.

Table 1.2 Sustainable Development in the Global Context Trading Position in the Global Market

Economic Growth

Level of Environmental

Protection

Capacity for Sustainable

Development Core Countries

Stable growth High due to public pressure and

increased awareness

High because choices are

available globally Advanced Peripheral Countries

Rapid growth due to economic

agility and adaptability

Low due to conscious trade-offs

Possible if conditions are set

Sub-peripheral Countries

Low due to struggle for

survival

Low due to lack of choices

High due to low global pressures

Core trading societies, as shown above, will fair better than

either advanced peripheral or sub-peripheral countries in fulfilling


their commitment to environmental protection and to developing in a sustainable manner. The high level of environmental protection in these countries is due to increased public awareness and pressure coupled with economic capacity. Advanced peripheral countries or the countries that are rapidly integrating into the global economy, on the other hand, will be economically capable of observing environmental obligations; however, they will not possess the political will to do so. Their capacity to grow in a sustainable manner exists; however, conscious decisions will have to be made by the political leadership. Finally, sub-peripheral countries (or countries whose economy may be tied to the world economy but only through another core or advanced peripheral country) will experience the least benefit from free trade, as their primary struggle is with survival and not expansion. In these countries, the interests of the corporate class dominate and the environment is likely to suffer as a result of this.

CONCLUSIONS The term “sustainable development” is a dynamic one and has

evolved from an 18th century concept to a buzz word used by many, with little regard to the definition. Over the years the definition has evolved to express various characteristics of the concept including (but not limited to): its active nature, continuous growth, intergenerational concerns, and holistic nature. In 1987, the most popular definition of this concept was created by the Bruntland Commission and presented in Our Common Future. Even before popularization of the term, the concept had succeeded in infiltrating international discussions on the environment. Spawned by publications implying the dangers of development, the environmental movement grew out of the 1972 Conference on the Human Environment in Stockholm, where the concept of sustainable development gained international recognition. In the three decades after Stockholm, there would be two more major international conferences on the environment: The Earth Summit in Rio in 1992 and the Johannesburg Summit in 2002. Each summit exhibited an expansion in both attendance and scope; however, they were all perceived as missed opportunities. One major criticism is that the conferences failed to address North-South disparities. Addressing these disparities


is integral to the success of sustainable development as the ability of a country to achieve conditions for sustainable development is related to the integration of that country into the global economy. Though much progress has been made since the initial summit in Stockholm, the concept of “sustainable development” still has many challenges to face before it becomes an accepted paradigm for a healthy way of life.

REFERENCES Barbier, E.B. (1987). The concept of sustainable economic development.

Environmental Conservation 14, 101-110. Barrett, S. (1994). Strategic environmental policy and international trade.

Journal of Public Economics 54(3), 325-338. Carson, R. (1962). Silent spring. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Dwivedi, O.P., Kyba, J.P., Stoett, P., and R. Tiessen (2001). Sustainable

development and Canada. Peterborough, Canada: Broadview Press. Esty, D. C. (1994). The case for a global environmental organization. In

Peter B. Kenan (ed.), Managing the world economy: Fifty years after Bretton Woods (pp. 287-309). Washington, DC: Institute for International Economics.

Goodman, D. and M. Redclift, eds. (1991). Environment and development in Latin America: The politics of sustainability. New York: Manchester University Press.

Government of Canada (2002). What is sustainable development? Retrieved on March 28, 2004 from http://www.sdinfo.gc.ca/what_is _sd/index_e.cfm.

Hardin, G. (1968). The tragedy of the commons. Science 162(3859), 1243-1248.

Hicks, J.R. (1946). Value and capital (2nd ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Johnson, S.P. (1993). The Earth Summit: The United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED). London: Graham and Trotman.

Khator, R. (1998). The new paradigm: From development administration to sustainable development administration. International Journal of Public Administration 21(12), 1777-1801.

Korton, D. (1990). Getting to the 21st Century: Voluntary Action and the Global Agenda. West Hartford, CT: Kumarian.

Lele, S. (1991). Sustainable development: A critical review. World Development 19(6), 607-621.


Meadows, D.H., et al. (1972). Limits to growth: A report for the Club of Rome’s Project on the Predicament of Mankind. New York: Universe Books.

Muller-Kraenner, S. (2002). On the road to Johannesburg. Development 45(3), 18-23.

Odum, E.P. (1971). Fundamentals of ecology (3rd ed.). Philadelphia: W.B. Saunders.

Ophuls, W. & S. Boyan, Jr. (1992). Ecology and politics of scarcity revisited: The unraveling of the American Dream. New York: W.H. Freeman.

Rauscher, M. (1994). On ecological dumping, Oxford Economic Papers. 46(5), 822-840.

United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Division for Sustainable Development (2003). The road from Johannesburg: World Summit on Sustainable Development: What was achieved and the way forward. New York. Retrieved on August 29, 2005 from http://www. un.org/esa/sustdev/media/Brochure.PDF

Webster’s II new college dictionary. (1999). Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1111.

World Commission on Environment and Development. (1987). Our common future. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

2

2 Sustainable Development: The World Is Still Oceans Apart! O.P. Dwivedi

INTRODUCTION Humanity’s role in manipulating its surroundings is enormous

and ranges from the obvious—such as damming great rivers—to the subtle—the effects of DDT on the reproduction of wildlife. The modern concern over environmental impact started in the late 1960s. Soon thereafter, some environmentalists began to propose a “right” to environmental quality. Their proposals included mostly decision-making tools, such as environmental impact assessment, duties and regulations imposed on private industries and corporations, and powers acquired by the state to monitor potentially polluting activities both in the public and private sectors. However, the assessment of environmental impact does not stop at measuring pesticide residues and the amount of mercury in fish. It involves the quality of life on earth and, indeed, the ability of human beings to interact with nature and survive in the long run. It also means that pollution, destruction of species and natural areas, and depletion of resources cannot be placed second to people’s materialism and their desire for technological progress.

The continuing deterioration of our planet’s ecology poses a major threat to the viability of our world. Nowhere is the evidence of

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global ecological deterioration better argued than in Our Common Future, a report by the World Commission on Environment and Development (also known as the Brundtland Commission). But the real significance of this report lies first in its thorough explanation of why we, the people inhabiting this planet, are collectively destroying natural resources; second, in its thesis that we cannot save the environment without development, but at the same time, we cannot keep on developing unless we save the environment; and third, in its main recommendation—that unless we restructure the existing institutional arrangements and legal mechanisms, fragmentation, overlapping jurisdictions, narrow mandates, and closed decision-making processes will continue. As the report states, “The real world of interlocked economy and ecological systems will not change; the policies and institutions concerned must” (World Commission, 1987, p. 310). The commission also warned: “The time has come to break out of past patterns. Attempts to maintain social and ecological stability through old approaches to development and environmental protection will increase instability. Security must be sought through change. . . . Without reorientation of attitudes and emphasis, little can be achieved” (World Commission, 1987, p. 309).

But for developing nations, this warning concerning the protection of the environment must be balanced against such pressing human security problems as the population explosion, chronic poverty, and providing minimum health care and necessary sanitation, shelter, and other basic needs for their people. In addition, these nations are impelled to harmonize economic development with such environmental values as biodiversity protection and conservation, sustainable resource use, and environmental quality in general, as necessary ingredients to augment the “well-being of all.”

NORTH-SOUTH ENVIRONMENTAL RELATIONS The end of the Cold War has given humanity an opportunity for

a fundamental rethinking of the nature of relations among nations. That rethinking ought to be directed toward the solution of the planetary-proportion threat being caused by ecological disaster and continuing poverty. In our world, poverty prevents one-fourth of humanity from receiving even basic needs (adequate food, safe and sufficient water, primary health care, education, and shelter). As long

Sustainable Development: The World is Still Oceans Apart! 25

as this economic disparity remains, stress on the environment will also continue. For the poor, the struggle for survival overrides any concern for the environment. At the same time, although for different reasons, both North and South continue to exhaust the Earth’s resources. That is why environmental concerns ought to be acknowledged as the fundamental point of agreement in their relationship.

A global policy requires consideration of all and for all. Until now, we have had a sharp discrepancy between rich and poor, between developing and affluent, between North and South, and between First and Third Worlds. This distance is not closing, despite rhetoric to the contrary. The distinction has been based on the economic progress and material well-being of people living in two separate worlds, isolated from each other not only because of geographical boundaries, trade barriers, and economic prosperity, but because of political dominance. However, various environmental crises—such as ozone depletion, the greenhouse effect, disappearing biodiversity, and the need to protect world commons—do not respect such barriers and borders. We know that ecological disasters have ways of affecting even those who may not live in close proximity, as happened during the tsunami disaster in late December 2004. Thus, the old distinctions which marginalized the poor of the underdeveloped world while keeping the wealthy secure and privileged are outmoded because both groups have to share the same planet and its dwindling resources (Dwivedi, 1994). Although this realization is perhaps much more apparent in the poorer sections of our global society than in the richer parts; nevertheless, a similar sensitivity is arising among the people of the North that no group can live in isolation from the other.

For the South, poverty alleviation is the most crucial task of these times; while for the North, ozone depletion, deforestation, or population growth in the South are more important global issues. This difference in perspective was first highlighted by Mrs. Indira Gandhi at the 1972 United Nations Conference on Human Environment in Stockholm: “On the one hand the rich look askance at our continuing poverty—on the other, they warn us against their own methods. We do not wish to impoverish the environment any further and yet we cannot for a moment forget the grim poverty of

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large numbers of people. Are not poverty and needs the greatest polluters?” (1972, p. 2).

It is obvious from various reports of the World Bank that people in developing nations are still struggling with poverty, hunger, squalor, and poor health care. To such people, environmental problems are actually afflictions of overdevelopment in the industrialized North, although they are now convinced that environmental protection is also a threat. This perspective gives them a different view about population growth and the continuation of poverty. These two aspects—population growth and poverty—and their impact on the environment, are discussed below.

POPULATION GROWTH AND ENVIRONMENTAL DEGRADATION

Demography—taken as the size of the population and its rate of growth—is considered a principal factor in environmental degradation, since the faster the population increases, the more natural resources are depleted, causing environmental degradation. But reduction in population increase, if that is the answer, is difficult to achieve, even if some authoritarian measures are employed. For example, when Mrs. Gandhi ordered vasectomy operations to reduce India’s population during her emergency rule in 1975-1977, the general election of 1977 repudiated her policy. No political leader has since dared to raise this issue in India. Demographers have estimated that, even in the unlikely event that we managed to immediately reduce world fertility to a level of simple replacement (two children per couple) and to maintain this level in the future—the world population, due to the effects of its present age distribution and to the expected increase in life-expectancy, would continue to grow for approximately a century before leveling off at almost double the present figure (Cabre, 1993, p. 2). In the case of India, it was argued during the 1970s and 1980s that its population has outstripped its carrying capacity (Commission, 1992, p. 33). However, such predictions have not proven accurate even when the country’s population grew beyond 1 billion in 2001. Through better land use, soil management, increased levels of agricultural inputs, and improvements in seed quality, the country could feed not only many


more million people compared to its 1970s level, but also export or provide food aid to needy neighbors.

Two dimensions of demographic trends should also be taken into consideration: aging populations and youth bulges. As death rates are declining, populations are growing older. It is generally known that aging populations have less demand on the environment but more for health-care services. Similarly, the youth bulge has reached crisis proportions in several developing nations where youth account for more than 40 percent of all adults. According to the United Nations (2003), more than 100 countries have youth bulges compared to North America and Europe where youth accounts for about 20-25% of all adults. Even in the case of those bulges, environmental security is not the issue. On the contrary, a large proportion of young workers can prove to be a demographic bonus to economic prosperity (Mastny & Cincotta, 2005, p. 24). Thus, population increase is not always the culprit when environmental damage occurs.

Perhaps it is easier for the North to recommend population control because, in the past, the heavily populated countries of Europe were able to unload their growing population on the new colonies of the Americas and Australia-New Zealand. However, developing nations have no new frontier to which they can export their surplus population. Of course, their population growth has to be controlled, but we know from past experience that a high population density does not always cause the same proportion of environmental degradation as less densely populated nations. For example, if one compares the population density of the United States or Australia with India or China during this century, it is clear that there has been more environmental destruction per capita in the first two countries than in the last two over the same period. This is what Mrs. Gandhi meant when she stated, “It is an over-simplification to blame all the world’s problems on increasing population. Countries with but a small fraction of the world population consume the bulk of the world’s production of minerals, fossil fuels and so on” (1972, p. 2). Anna Cabre (1993) gives one glaring example from the American past. In a single decade, between 1870 and 1880, the skeletons of 750,000 bisons (buffalos) were loaded at one particular railway station for shipment to fertilizer factories (1993, p. 2). Instead of

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emphasizing population as a factor in environmental degradation, we should look for another culprit; and that culprit is poverty.

POVERTY AND POLLUTION At the Rio Summit, leaders of the South hoped to link the issue

of poverty with global environmental problems; however, they later found that, due to the 1990s economic crisis, the issue was sidelined by nearly all industrialized nations. By the time the World Summit was held in 2002, poverty and the needs of developing nations were yet to be addressed appropriately despite four decades of developmental efforts. When the international aid program started in mid-1950s, it was presumed that, in relatively few years, basic human needs (food, living conditions, health care, and education) and social justice would be achieved. But this did not happen. For hundreds of millions of people, life remains a constant struggle for survival. Sustainable environment for them can become credible only when poverty is eradicated and living conditions become tolerable. As Shridath Ramphal, former Secretary General of the Commonwealth of Nations and a member of the Brundtland Commission noted: “If poverty is not tackled, it will be extremely difficult to achieve agreement on solutions to major environmental problems. Mass poverty, in itself unacceptable and unnecessary, both adds to and is made worse by environmental stress. . . . That is why the global policy dialogue must integrate environment and development” (1992, p. 17).

Mass poverty has remained a worldwide concern. In 2000, the United Nations Millennium General Assembly adopted eight Millennium Development Goals (MDG):

1. Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger. 2. Achieve universal primary education. 3. Promote gender equality and empower women. 4. Reduce child mortality. 5. Improve maternal health. 6. Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases. 7. Ensure environmental sustainability. 8. Create global partnerships for development. (United Nations, 2000)


Among these eight goals, both poverty alleviation and ensuring environmental sustainability are supposed to be met by 2015.

Can the seventh goal, environmental sustainability, succeed? Past experience with similar U.N. developmental decades and other exhortations indicate that the results are going to be mixed. But one thing is clear: sustainable development as a paradigm has changed our old concept of economic development. The concept emphasizes the need, among other things, (a) to conserve biological diversity in genes, species, and eco-systems; (b) to recognize the dynamic, constantly evolving, and often unpredictable properties of nature; (c) to be conscious of our responsibility, in the form of environmental stewardship, to protect the global environment; and (d) to respect the intrinsic value of global commons as well as the need for intergenerational equity. Furthermore, the concept provides for an operational definition which establishes equity among the nations of North and South. For example, how do we address the issue of “incomplete development” faced by most of the poor nations? This issue includes such aspects as population growth without an adequate fall in birth rates, while the mortality rate has fallen and life expectancy has risen. Or what do we do with the exodus from rural areas and resultant urban growth? And when it is replaced by another paradigm (discussed later in this essay), again a similar optimism might ensue. But there is no assurance that our world will not remain oceans apart!

THE WORLD IS STILL OCEANS APART! What are the specific challenges that keep the North and South

oceans apart? I offer the following twelve proposals and observations:

1. Mainstream the Environment Thus far, there has been a natural tendency to think of

environmental issues primarily in terms of how to avoid doing harm and what policies to safeguard the environment should be in place when a new development project or an international aid-dependent project begins. Once the project receives its environmental impact assessment (EIA) clearance, attention to environmental concerns is sidelined especially by financial institutions (such as a ministry of

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finance), infrastructure specialists, and on-site project management teams. And if later, some environmental problems crop up, “clean-up” work starts. Moreover, after a project has received EIA clearance, constituencies for the poor (who tend to bear the brunt of environmental harm) and the environment continue to be underrepresented in the decision-making processes. Frances Seymour (2004) from the World Bank has suggested that, instead of addressing the environmental safeguards on a project-by-project basis, sustainability and environmental safety concerns should be integrated or “mainstreamed” into country-wide plans (e.g., five-year plans) and into sectoral and cross-sector strategies, instead of placing such issues in separate policy compartments (p. 17).

2. Strategizing Sustainable Development The sustainable development approach offers nations an

opportunity to integrate economic strategies, environmental integrity, and social equality. There is an urgent need to develop integrative, forward-looking, cross-sectoral processes for linking and balancing environmental, social, and economic policy objectives. But such integration depends on reconciling the three pillars of sustainability: “(a) living within [our] global biophysical carrying capacity; (b) providing a decent living standard for all people; [and] (c) ensuring a reasonable measure of distributional fairness in access to resources and their economic benefits” (Sadler, 1996, p. 26). These pillars capture some of the practical solutions and idealistic goals of sustainability. However, they do not tackle the fundamental causes of unsustainable development and offer few avenues for policy direction. Thus, what is needed is a deeper understanding of who in a country (or, for that matter, in the world taken as a unit) lacks access to and control of resources and why.

In addition, it is equally crucial that state governments allocate additional commitments to ensure multisectoral perspectives and approaches by incorporating them into each nation’s policy-planning and decision-making processes. However, as long as unsustainable development policies are primacy in economic policy, we will continue to live unsustainably. If we as a species want to do better, then we need to identify how these changes can take place and how


an appropriate sustainable development policy can be more expediently translated into practice (Dwivedi et al., 2001, p. 236).

3. Assure Planetary Survival with Ecological Diversity Diversity is directly linked with adaptability and with the

survivability of species. For example, people migrating from one geographic system have been able to adapt to another totally different kind of environment since the beginning of human history. That new environment in which those migrant people sought stability and prosperity was born out of diversity. It is the diversity which impels us to adapt and seek benefit from new surroundings. In contrast, uniformity creates dependency, inflexibility, and a lack of adaptability to new and challenging situations. Human ingenuity is based on such challenges. In the absence of such challenges, creativity, genius, and immunity fade slowly. The strongest societies are those that are the most diverse, as is the case with ecosystems (Dwivedi & Khator, 2005).

4. Control Worldwide Bio-piracy It is an understatement to note that biodiversity is declining at an

unprecedented rate. For example, in China alone, 10,000 varieties of wheat were under cultivation in 1949; by the 1970s, only 1,000 were still in production. In Mexico, only about 20% of the maize varieties in production in 1930 are still being grown. In the Philippines, thousands of rice varieties were once cultivated. Nowadays two varieties account for more than 98% of the rice acreage (Nierenberg & Halweil, 2005, p. 64). As mentioned during the World Summit in 2002, half of the tropical rainforests and mangroves are gone, 75% of marine fisheries stock is gone; mono-culture and bio-seeds are further affecting biodiversity; and many nations report the continuing decline of their biodiversity genetic pool (Dwivedi & Khator, 2005).

Scientists in industrialized nations are busy patenting inventions made in publicly funded research institutions and universities, permitting scientific journals to fall under corporate ownership, and stealing genetic resources from indigenous communities, including the cell-lines and genes of indigenous people. Is this not plagiarism at an international level? For example, the Brazilian government

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estimates that 97% of the 4,000 patents taken out on natural products in their country between 1995 and 2000 were made by foreigners. So, bio-piracy is rampant. In February 2002, 12 countries (India, China, Brazil, Indonesia, Costa Rica, Colombia, Ecuador, Kenya, Peru, Venezuela, Mexico, and South Africa) formed an alliance to press for the protection of indigenous genetic resources because they collectively possess 70% of the world’s biodiversity in food crops (INES, 2003, p. 6).

5. Affirm the Earth Charter By the time we entered the third millennium, it became

increasingly clear that many of our values were totally inadequate for long-term survival and for the development of a sustainable future in which all species (not only human beings) are taken care of. This conclusion was evident from the emergence of a wide spectrum of challenges to the traditional materialistic view. Guided by Western culture, people have had blind faith in the prowess of science and technology to produce material progress.

Only recently have we understood that so-called material prosperity should not be an end in itself. Slowly, a realization is also emerging that spirituality and the control of one’s desires can bring a more lasting happiness than acquisitive materialism. However, such a realization has yet to enter the domain of governmental policy or the corporate world, where spiritual perspectives are generally ignored. Economic criteria which place no value on the commons (the air, water, oceans, outer space, etc.) and which use concepts such as cost-benefit analysis, law of supply and demand, rate of return, land as commodity, etc., have been based on the delusion that they operate independently of the cultural and spiritual domain. Until now, we have taken a great deal from our Mother Earth. We have given little thought to limiting our plundering and ravaging instincts. Without a change in our current value system, there is little hope of correcting the environmental problems we face today. Slowly, a heightened consciousness is emerging for the formation of a new international environmental rights regime, including instilling respect for Mother Earth and care for all species in creation. The Earth Charter is a proper instrument for helping to empower that consciousness. It is also clear that, without a universally accepted


regime of environmental protection, world resources will continue to be depleted and the quality of life for the majority of people on earth will remain questionable.

For this reason, we urgently need a holistic vision of basic ethical principles supported by broadly accepted tenets and practical guidelines that should govern the behavior of people and states in their relations between each other and the Earth (Dwivedi & Khator, 2006). This is not a new demand; it has been persistently called for by various environmental NGOs, international organizations, and reports such as Our Common Future by the World Commission on Environment and Development (1987), and Caring for the Earth, a report by the International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (1991).

6. Poverty is the Greatest Challenge Environmental stress is caused less by poor nations than by

voracious consumption in the North. The pressure on natural resources increases with consumption. Consumption pressure is a factor of the number of people making demands, but it is also a factor of consumption patterns. It has been estimated that every birth in the North puts as much pressure on resources as tens of births in the South. Thus, in addition to the eradication of poverty in the South, lifestyles in the North must be modified. For example, the World Commission on Environment and Development has estimated that the cost of implementing Agenda 21 could be about $US125 billion a year until the end of this century. And as most of the expenditures are related to managing commons and assisting poor nations, it is helpful to recognize that “in 1990 developing nations transferred $140 billion in debt service payments, capital and interest, to creditor nations” (Ramphal, 1992, pp. 253-254). If the North can divert a part of this sum toward global environmental protection and sustainable development, our world will be a better and safer place to live.

Some may argue that the establishment of the Global Environmental Facility (GEF) has addressed this concern; however, there have been criticisms about the facility’s governing structure, its strategies, and its operative procedures. Although in March 1994, a new instrument of governance for GEF was agreed upon between

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North and South, it has adopted, as some critics contend, “many of the failings of its administrative parents, and particularly those of the [World] Bank” (Jordan, 1994, p. 266).

7. Globalization of our World Thomas Friedman argued in The Lexus and the Olive Tree that

countries which tried to avoid globalization became poorer. He pointed out that between 1975 and 1997, the 8% of countries with open markets (accounting for $23 billion of direct foreign investment) had expanded to 28% (with $644 billion of foreign investment). Hence, nations which hesitate or avoid globalization are doomed to poverty (Friedman, 1999, pp. 8-9). The World Bank (2000) also asserts that, since 1980, globalizers have growth rates three times those of non-globalizers. It also reported that, with globalization, countries were impelled to improve public services, provide better social security nets, and even increase environmental protection.

Nevertheless, ground realities are different. The World Bank’s statistics show that the average income in the 20 richest countries was 37 times the average in the poorest 20, a gap that has doubled during the past 20 years (World Bank, 2000, p. 3). Another impediment to poverty alleviation is the trade barriers imposed by the rich nations. The New York Times reported that in 2002 industrialized nations provided $320 billion in farm subsidies compared to $50 billion in international aid (“Editorial: Harvesting Poverty,” 2003, p. 10). For example, the United States gives a $3 billion subsidy to its 25,000 cotton farmers thereby wrecking world cotton prices (Werlin, 2004, p. 1034). If these subsidies were reduced, about 114 million people in poor countries could be pulled out of poverty.

One thing appears certain: There is no way to avoid globalization. For example, in 2000, Mexico, after joining NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement), had a $20 billion trade surplus with the United States. But then we should ask why 42% of the Mexican population was reportedly living below the poverty level, an increase of nearly 75% since 1989? (Werlin, 2004, p. 1035). Would it not be correct to say that poverty and globalization are inversely related to each other?


8. Build Bridges of Collaboration between the North and the South

In 2004, the United States allocated $36 billion for homeland security and about $360 billion for the military. In contrast, it allocates $11.3 billion for international aid each year (Brusasco-Mackenzie, 2004, p. 12). Billions more have been spent by the coalition of willing partners on the Iraq war. In contrast, only $54-$64 billion would be needed annually to cut world poverty in half by 2015 (Devarajan et al., 2002). Clearly, there is a need to change the definition of security from the current militaristic concept to that of the well-being of all.

The world population is about 6.4 billion and it might rise to about 8.9 billion by 2050 (Worldwatch, 2004). If in 2003, 831 million people across the world remain hungry and malnourished, what will happen later when there will be further cropland losses due to expected degradation, soil erosion, and climatic changes during the first half of the 21st century? The world also faces a water crisis: 1.1 billion people currently lack access to safe drinking water, and 2.4 billion do not have adequate sanitation, mostly in Asia and Africa. The well-being of these people ought to be paramount rather than militaristic ventures that consume billions. Clearly, we need a new model of development, one that could ensure human security and planetary well-being.

It is also clear that, while the North has been able to achieve environmental security at home, it has missed the opportunity to promote sustainability and equity since the Rio Summit of 1992. Whether the Johannesburg Summit of 2002 will result in substantive change is not certain. There is an urgent need to build bridges of collaboration between North and South by assisting in the achievement of the U.N. Millennium Development Goals.

9. Recognize that Politics Controls Everything It is not an overstatement to say that solutions to all of these

major problems lie ultimately in the realm of politics. Despite the fact that some of these problems may be largely scientific, others economic, and still others philosophic or moral, in the end, political decisions will recognize them, deal with them, and specify the type and timing of the solutions attempted. The environmental issue is

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one example. It struggled to compete with other issues of public concern including security and took a long time to reach the national policy agenda. Until it did, it did not receive the public funding it deserved. These issues require governmental intervention; and if an action is not based on principles of good governance, it may result in increasing levels of insecurity, poverty, marginalization of the poor, and the deterioration of the environment.

10. Sustain Development through Good Governance Pluralistic, liberal, democratic governance ensures that no single

group, such as business/commercial interests, can collude with politicians to continue indefinitely dominating the policymaking or regulatory regime while degrading the environment. This is true, not only in the North, but also in developing nations like India and Sri Lanka where a free press and an independent judiciary have forced governments to take appropriate regulatory actions to control pollution. Of course, it is important to strengthen the system of monitoring and enforcement of environmental laws, but there is a need to shift the present focus on criminal prosecution to greater reliance on civil penalties and liabilities. This approach will require transparency, accountability at all levels, and minimal transaction costs (Ghosh, 2004, p. 11). These effects are attainable when good governance exists. Although “politics determines all,” nevertheless, it is the operationalization of politics in the form of good governance that is the key to improving the quality of life, assuring human and environmental security, attaining sustainable growth, and thereby reducing poverty. The objective of good governance is to create conditions that ensure healthy food, clean water, adequate sanitation, education, health care, security, and justice so that people may lead dignified and meaningful lives.

Key in attaining good governance is the development of a trusted, trustworthy, and caring professional public service guided by honest political leaders (Dwivedi & Mishra, 2006). Corruption in government destroys confidence in public institutions, undermines people’s faith, diverts public resources to questionable deals, mocks the application of laws and judicial processes, and casts deep shadows over the credibility of government policies and programs (Caiden & Dwivedi, 2001, p. 245). Clearly, the prudent way toward


sustainable development and the “well-being of all” has to be based on the existence of good governance in a country.

11. Envision Worldwide Progress for All Progress in human development has been extraordinary during

the past 50 years. On average, people living in developing nations are healthier, wealthier, better fed, and more literate. This has all happened during my lifetime. Life expectancy has risen, great advances have been made in primary education, and food sufficiency has been achieved in several countries.

Nevertheless, wide disparities are also evident. For example, the amount spent by Europeans on mineral water in one year is enough to provide primary education in developing countries for the next 10 years because there are still 1 billion people who cannot read and write—two thirds of them women. The income gap between the top 20% of nations and the bottom 20% has increased from 30:1 in 1960 to 78:1 in 1994 (Dwivedi & Khator, 2005). Thus, human development has not kept an even pace.

Amartya Sen (1999) has defined human development as the fundamental freedom that enhances people’s choices, thus raising their level of well-being. From this perspective, substantive freedom includes the capacity to avoid such deprivations as starvation, malnourishment, or premature mortality. It also includes acquiring the basic education and skills to be gainfully employed and freedom to participate in political, economic, and social systems. It means building people’s decision-making capacities.

At the same time, it must be noted that human development and economic growth are mutually reinforcing. For development to be sustainable, both should accelerate in tandem. Such an achievement requires that citizens: (a) receive basic services (such as education, primary health care, adequate food, clean water, and sanitation); (b) participate in designing and implementing developmental programs created in their name and for them, if the resources are to benefit the neediest, especially women and other marginalized persons; (c) recognize the need for greater cooperation among all sectors of human development including spiritual well-being; (d) be proactive in the global economy because globalization disproportionately

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favors those who have expertise, power, and the capacity to compete in the global market (Kagia, 2002).

12. Operationalize a New Paradigm for the New Millennium Jorge Nef (2006) has argued that the fundamental premise of the

dominant international paradigm since World War II (and especially since the collapse of the Soviet Union) is the notion that the North is secure and the South is insecure. Instead, in an increasingly interdependent world, the weakness of the South increases the vulnerability of the North. There is a need to change the mental mode within the North which denies the need for any change to its traditional perception that developing nations are the problem. We need to create a new global paradigm which supports the security and well-being of all. And, although the U.N. Conference on the Human Environment in Sweden (1972) brought into discussion the concept/term of sustainable development, it was not until the publication of the World Commission on Environment and Development’s report, Our Common Future (1987), that this term received worldwide acceptance. This paradigm has dominated the world scene for about two decades but appears to have declined in its prestige since the World Summit in Johannesburg in 2002 (UNESCO, 2002).

A new paradigm is needed and is bound to emerge. I foresee that it will be envisioning the well-being of all, or in the language of the Hindu Vedas, Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah. (I explore this topic in another essay.) Of course, in an ideal world, environmental and human security problems would already have been solved; global population would fall to the recommended level of 2 billion; energy and natural resources would be evenly shared; technology would be harnessed to reduce pollution and resource depletion to the carrying capacity of our planet; and no one nation or group of nations would be dominant and privileged.

But the fundamental question is: How to we achieve such an ideal? We should realize that these environmental crises have given us a profound opportunity to restore and strengthen international cooperation for worldwide sustainable development. It is an opportunity for world leaders (both from the North and South), as well as for people and their organizations to develop planet-level


strategies of survival and sustainability. But such a strategy requires control on consumption levels in the North and the redressing of inequitable and unsustainable growth in the South. While priorities concerning sustainable development and environmental protection differ between the North and South, the planet that we inhabit is the only one; and thus, no one portion of this globe should be enjoying first-class quality of life while the rest continues to suffer poverty and underdevelopment. Such a pattern is neither sustainable nor development. Instead, what is needed is a fundamental shift in priorities which may lead to creating a more stable world designed to stop “environmental decline, break the stranglehold of poverty and reverse the trend toward growing inequity and social insecurity that breeds despair and extremism” (Renner, 2005, pp. 4-5). In the final analysis, our world will be still oceans apart, unless there is universal security and well-being for all.

People living in all parts of the world can be united in the enterprise of protecting our common heritage by using the values and ideals that various cultures, societies, and communities subscribe to. By combining their concerns, talents, energies, and resources, people can build a common future on earth in which they can share their fortunes (whether meager or abundant) to equalize opportunities among all their neighbors and among all regions, and to sustain the right of all to fulfill the ends of life. Globalization is criticized for many things; but in the case of environmental protection, it is a positive step because, in order to develop a common strategy for implementing sustainable development, much depends on how people living “oceans apart” can still (a) perceive a common future for the world and (b) act together to foster the convergence of one shared fundamental value: one world shared by many.

REFERENCES Brusasco-Mackenzie, M. (2004). Environmental security: A view from

Europe. In G. D. Dableko (ed.), Environmental change and security project Report Issue 10 2004 (pp. 12-18). Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars.

Cabre, A. (1993, November). Population growth and environmental degradation. All of us. Barcelona, Spain: Centre UNESCO de Catalunya.

40 O.P. Dwivedi

Caiden, G. E., & Dwivedi, O. P. (2001). Official ethics and corruption. In G. E. Caiden, O. P. Dwivedi, & J. G. Jabbra (Eds.), Where corruption lives (pp. 245-255). Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian Press.

Commission on Developing Countries and Global Change. (1992). For Earth’s sake. Ottawa, Canada: International Development Research Centre.

Devarajan, S., Miller, M. J., & Swanson, E. V. (2002, April). Goals for development: History, prospects and costs. Retrieved in February 2005 from the World Bank website, http://econ.worldbank.org/ files/13269_ wps2819.pdf.

Dwivedi, O. P. (1994). Development administration: From under-development to sustainable development. London: Macmillan Press.

Dwivedi, O. P., & Khator, R. (2005). Sustaining the development: The road from Stockholm to Johannesburg. In press.

Dwivedi, O. P., & Khator, R. (2006). The Earth Charter: Toward a new global environmental ethic. In A. Farazmand & J. Pinkowski (eds.), Handbook of globalization, governance, and public administration (in press). New York: Marcel Dekker.

Dwivedi, O. P., Kyba, P., Stoett, P. J., & Tiessen, R. (2001). Sustainable development and Canada. Peterborough, Canada: Broadview Press.

Dwivedi, O. P., & Mishra, D. S. (2006). Good governance: A model for India. In A. Farazmand & J. Pinkowski (Eds.), Handbook of globalization, governance, and public administration (in press). New York: Marcel Dekker.

Editorial: Harvesting poverty: The rigged trade game. (2003, July 20). The New York Times, p. 10.

Friedman, T. L. (1999). The Lexus and the olive tree. New York: Anchor Books.

Gandhi, I. (1972, June 14). Address at the U.N. Conference on Human Environment, Stockholm, Sweden. In Agenda notes for NCEPC meeting, July 28-29, 1972. New Delhi: Government of India, Department of Science and Technology.

Ghosh, P. (2004). Harmonizing environmental concerns and economic growth. In Environment Matters (pp. 10-11). Washington DC: World Bank. (Annual Review).

International Network of Engineers and Scientists for Global Responsibility (INES). (2003, May). News Bulletin. No. 43.

IUCN, UNEP, & WWF. (1991). Caring for the earth: A strategy for sustainable living. Gland, Switzerland.

Jordan, A. (1994). Institutions for global environmental change: The global environmental facility (GEF). Global environmental change, 4(3), 265-267.


Kagia, R. (2002). Prospects for accelerating human development in the twenty-first century. In H. van Ginkel, B. Barrett, J. Court, & J. Velasquez (Eds)., Human development and the environment: Challenges for the United Nations in the new millennium (pp. 63-75). Tokyo: United Nations University Press.

Mastny, L., & Cincotta, R. P. (2005). Examining the connection between population and security. In State of the world: Redefining global security (pp. 22-39). New York: W. W. Norton. (A Worldwatch Institute Report)

Nef, J. (2006). Third systems, human security, and sustainable development. Paper presented at “Symposium 1: Sustainable Development and Globalization,” Globalization Research Center, University of South Florida, April 7, 2005. University of South Florida, Tampa. Published in this volume.

Nierenberg, D., & Halweil, B. (2005). Cultivating food security. In State of the world: Redefining global security (pp. 62-77). New York: W. W. Norton. (A Worldwatch Institute Report)

Ramphal, S. (1992). Our country, the planet. Washington DC: Island Press. Renner, M. (2005). Security re-defined. In State of the world: Redefining

global security (pp. 3-19). New York: W. W. Norton. (A Worldwatch Institute Report)

Sadler, B. (1996). Sustainability strategies and green planning: Recent Canadian and international experience. In A. Dale & J. B. Robinson (Eds.), Achieving sustainable development (pp. 23-70). Vancouver, Canada: University of British Columbia Press.

Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom: Human capability and global need. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

Seymour, F. J. (2004). Mainstreaming and infrastructure. In Ahmed, Kulsum, Environment Matters (pp. 16-17). Washington, DC: World Bank. (Annual Review)

UNESCO. (2002). Enhancing global sustainability. Report of the Preparatory Committee for the World Summit on Sustainable Development, New York, 25 March, 2002. Available on-line at http://undesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001253/125351e.pdf.

United Nations. (2000). Millennium development goals. Available on-line at http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals.

United Nations Conference on the Human Environment. (1972). Stockholm, Sweden. Available on-line at http://www.unep.org/Documents.multilingual/ Default.asp?DocumentID=97&ArticleID=

United Nations, Population Division. (2003). World population prospects: The 2002 revision. New York: United Nations.

42 O.P. Dwivedi

Werlin, H. Z. (2004). The benefits of globalization: Why more for South Korea than Mexico? International Journal of Public Administration, 27(13-14), 1031-1059.

World Bank (2000). World development report. Washington DC. World Commission on Environment and Development. (1987). Our common

future. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Worldwatch Institute. (2004). State of the world. Washington DC.

3 3 3 Third Systems, Human Security, and Sustainable Development1 Jorge Nef

INTRODUCTION Professors Khator (2006) and Dwivedi (2006) have highlighted

both the concept of sustainability/sustainable development and the extent to which the historical record of the last four development decades has chalked up such a dismal record of achievement by any standard of measurement. This paper complements their insights by discussing the interrelationships among development, sustainability, and equity—or, more to the point, their reciprocal values: underdevelopment, unsustainability, and inequity. A recent article in the New Scientist restates a familiar observation regarding the theoretical and practical problem of inequitable development:

The rich are getting richer while the poor remain poor. If you doubt it, ponder these numbers from the US, a country widely considered meritocratic, where talent and hard work are thought to be enough to propel anyone through the ranks of the rich. In 1979, the top 1% of the US population earned, on average, 33.1 times as much as the lowest 20%. In 2000, this multiplier had grown to 88.5. If inequality is growing in the US, what does this mean for other countries? (Hogan, 2005)

44 Jorge Nef

The main analytical question here is not to rephrase the New Scientist’s empirical observation but try to explain why it happens. This pattern of accumulation is fundamentally unsustainable in economic, social, ecological, and ethical terms, especially from a global perspective. Sustainability here entails what the United Nations Commission on Sustainable Development defined as “satisfying present needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987). Agenda 21 further elaborated this concept, highlighting the perverse relationship between inequity and sustainability:

Humanity stands at a defining moment in history. We are confronted with a perpetuation of disparities between and within nations, a worsening of poverty, hunger, ill health and illiteracy, and the continuing deterioration of the ecosystems on which we depend for our well-being. However, integration of environment and development concerns and greater attention to them will lead to the fulfillment of basic needs, improved living standards for all, better protected and managed ecosystems and a safer, more prosperous future. No nation can achieve this on its own; but together we can—in a global partnership for sustainable development. (U.N., 1992b, pp. 1.1-1.6)

These dysfunctional trends constitute a most severe threat to the security and well-being of all humankind. At one end, it compromises the planet’s carrying capacity; at the other, it raises the specter of acute social and political strife. This widening condition of collective insecurity in an ever more interdependent world is at the core of mutual and global vulnerability (Head, 1989, 1991). If development is understood at a minimum as a qualitative and quantitative improvement of the human condition (Seers, 1977), a pattern of growth based upon inequity and exclusion of the many for the benefit of a few—and greater insecurity—is anti-developmental.

In recent months, I have been working on a book about democracy and de-democratization. This arduous and rather unconventional exploration is beginning to shed light on the close association between socioeconomic inequity—the powerlessness and exclusion of people, on the one hand—and the merciless exploitation of the human habitat on the other. Power, not arcane laws of nature, explains distributional skewedness. And it is in politics, and in the materialization and management of such inequities in the form of

Third Systems, Human Security, and Sustainable Development 45

regimes, that inequalities become embedded and reproduced in enforceable systemic rules. This is clearly agency, not inevitable “fate” or mechanical phenomena. Put simply, if poverty and pauperization pose a severe stress to the ecosystem through resource depletion, extreme wealth constitutes an even greater threat.

Given the complex but intelligible nature of these global threats, I will attempt to approach this problem from the multivariate analytical framework of human security and mutual vulnerability (Nef, 1999) by positing that ecosystems, economies, societies, polities, and cultures are managed by regimes. The latter could be defined as relatively institutionalized sets of values, norms, structures, practices, and expectations that manage any cluster of contentious issues. Regimes have a number of attributes: (a) They possess a leading cultural “software,” or ideology. (b) They operate in a historical and structural context in which social forces and alliances represent (and underrepresent) specific interests. (c) These forces fight and compete with each other. They also coalesce in alliances to attain official (hegemonic or legitimated) decision-making positions in the system. (d) Once in control of these authoritative positions, they articulate their ideologies in policy decisions and nondecisions to advance their interests. (4) Finally, the application and implementation, or non-implementation, of these policies have effects in terms of who bears their costs and benefits—that is, in personal and systemic security and insecurity (Stallings, 1978). In other words, regimes and their change are at the core of the above-mentioned relationships among development, equity, and sustainability.

IDEOLOGIES OF SECURITY AND DEVELOPMENT Conventional treatments of security and development have

tended to reflect, in general, two elitist systems of thought and regimes. The first involves a persisting and evolving version of realism and national security. Nerfin (1986) identifies it with the point of view of the “Prince.” This characterization evokes not only the Machiavellian ruler, for whom force is just if it is necessary, but also the heroic figure of a soldier, king, or “lion” in Pareto’s (1968) typology of elites. The other protagonist perspective is that of the “Merchant.” It involves a more collective undertaking by the

46 Jorge Nef

corporate business and financial elites—barons, or “foxes” in Pareto’s characterization. Their ideological project corresponds to a vision of complex interdependence (Keohane & Nye, 1977) and globalization (Fukuyama, 1989). Both vantage points emphasize either military capabilities or capital accumulation at the expense of the common security of those outside the exclusive realm of the self-appointed heroes of the world tragedy. What is excluded in either perspective is the security that most directly relates in a Benthamian way to the lives of concrete, ordinary people: the chorus, those who in a democracy are supposed to be citizens with rights. This citizen-based mode constitutes Nerfin’s Third System, so far a rare occurrence in either security or development.

Neither realism nor complex interdependence (or “regime theory”) shows a central preoccupation with human development per se, let alone with any version of it concerned with equity or sustainability. For realism and national security, with their geopolitical assumptions, national development is a byproduct of the pursuit of national power. Eventually, this search for hegemony leads to expansion, growth, prosperity, and national unity at home. It is what Cecil Rhodes called “bread-and-butter imperialism” (1885). Security and prosperity may reduce social antagonisms at the imperial center but at the cost of a semi-perpetual state of war (Bosch, 1967). The expansion of civilization (and modernization) from this perspective is a zero-sum game intrinsically tied to war.

What both dominant paradigms of development and security in all their versions and transmutations have ignored is common people and their transformative potential—those who make history, but in whose name history is never written. This article formulates a conceptual framework of development, security, and sustainability from the point of view of the actual and potential citizens—or Third System—in a global context in which princes and merchants are still the dominant and converging forces (Nerfin, 1986). It suggests that globalization need not be the exclusive domain of transnational and national oligarchies and that an inclusive democratic system of global citizens is not only a possibility but also a promising “win-win” strategy for development and survival.


THE INTERNATIONAL CONTEXT International development, especially outside the dominant core,

is seen by “realists” as a result of the relentless pursuit of the “national interests” by warring, imperial statesmen. One direct mode by which this development occurs is diffusion: spreading civilization (Kipling’s “white man’s burden”) to the “lesser breeds without the law.” An example is the implementation of manifest destiny on the part of U.S. elites throughout the 19th century.

Another, less direct, modality is induced international development implemented through foreign aid. Here, development—and modernization—are seen as a counterinsurgency strategy. This was ostensibly the case in the post World War II era and during the Cold War (e.g., the Marshall Plan, Point Four, the Colombo Plan, the Alliance for Progress, etc.). The prime directive in this global New Deal was to prop up friendly local regimes whose survival was contingent on economic growth. Whether they were authoritarian was less important than the requirement that they be anti-Communist (Rostow, 1960). Shoring up these regimes took precedence over the sustainability of development and distributional issues. Often this approach required significant military or clandestine intervention, at times involving destabilization as in Greece, Korea, Iran, Vietnam, and Latin America.

For all its anti-Communist orientation, this approach favored a Keynesian strategy of government intervention and relied upon a strong administrative state, with a central role in investment, planning, and capital formation. In the late 1950s, the socialist camp unleashed an aggressive foreign aid program of its own to compete for the hearts and minds of the newly emerging elites of the non-aligned movement, later known as the Third World. Planning, capital and technology transfer, nationalization, and industrialization were perceived as shortcuts to development. Both the East and the West shared these central tenets. The USSR poured massive resources into India, Africa, the Middle East, and Cuba to neutralize or replace Western influences. However, with the sudden collapse of the USSR, the socialist variant to this approach became suddenly obsolete.

In turn, without the other side to justify its existence, Keynesian policies, born in the social turmoil of the Depression and invigorated

48 Jorge Nef

through the Cold War, had outlived their usefulness. They became exhausted and less effective as a protective strategy for elite and regime sustainability at home and abroad. Also, critics of military diplomacy gained the upper hand at the end of the Vietnam War. They viewed national security as an exceedingly costly strategy, demanding heavy taxation and public indebtedness at a time when transnational business elites were becoming increasingly unwilling to foot the bill—the so-called “tax revolt.” Realism and its national security corollary lost intellectual glamour and were virtually tossed out. In their place, with a realignment of political forces around a trilateralist project (Sklar, 1980), a neo-functionalist vision emerged: complex interdependence (Keohane & Nye, 1977). Global regimes would replace empire as managers of the world order. Rather than protecting capitalism within one country, trilateralism offered a vision of international and perpetual capitalism.

Regime theory, as it was also known, centered upon trade and business transactions in a Hayek-like self-sustained global order in which economics substituted for politics (Hayek, 1976). Trade liberalization and self-regulating elite transactions would lead to global prosperity. This technological and historically driven tendency to expand transactions had, by the time of the USSR collapse, evolved into a perception of a Hegelian idea-force (globalization) leading to an end of history (Fukuyama, 1989). Sustained growth and the belief in systemic self-correction displaced notions of equity, regulation, and sustainability. The discourse of development (Escobar, 1986) was increasingly replaced by that of globalization.

HUMAN SECURITY AND INSECURITY The human security perspective attempts to account for five

fundamental and interrelated concerns: environmental, economic, social, political, and cultural. At issue here are questions of whose development, whose security, and whose sustainability (and livelihood) are at stake. From its onset, the concept of human security was meant to provide a historical and systemic perspective to connect issues such as peace, sustainability, equity, human rights, and sustainable development. It also stood in axiological opposition


to both the “realist” national security and the interdependence/ globalization paradigms (Nef, 1999).

As mentioned earlier, since the end of World War II, security and development became the parameters of what was then seen as a rigidly bipolar world system. Security was seen in quite narrow military terms (MAD [mutual assured destruction]), while the latter focused almost exclusively on economic growth. With the end of the Cold War, there has been a tendency to celebrate unipolarity and the “end of history” as the inevitable result of globalization, while retaining the same simplistic notions of security and development. However, since September 11, 2001, these terms cannot be viewed from a naive, narrow, and suicidal zero-sum viewpoint. The possibility of a negative-score game, a contingency where we can all be losers, has to be incorporated into a much broader and more nuanced security equation.

It is increasingly obvious that unilateralism and the revamped vision of national security now in vogue (both post 9/11 and since 1992) are not guarantees of real security for most people on the planet. A new critical and reflective framework is required to produce rational appraisals and well-considered ethical responses to real and significant challenges. Even at the cost of learning to live with cognitive dissonance, questions and problems need to precede prescriptions and solutions. Human security and mutual vulnerability are central concepts in sketching a multivariate and complex but intelligible perspective to accomplish this task.

Human security is understood here as the probability of “risk reduction”: the abatement of insecurity and uncertainty. Risk-reduction in any system, from domestic to global, other things remaining constant, is a function of the achievement of security at the lower and more exposed levels. Any system is only as strong as its weakest links, which make all its components mutually vulnerable. Security implies, at a minimum, a number of interwoven dimensions (subsystems or regimes) pertaining to the ecosystem, the economy, the society, the polity, and the culture, with culture being the “software” of a system or regime.

All these individual and collective dimensions of security are equally important. However, it is the political/governance dimensions that hold the key to safeguarding physical-environmental, economic, social, and cultural “rights.” Rule-making, regulation, enforcement,

50 Jorge Nef

and adjudication are fundamental in building the way power and meta-power are created, distributed, and exercised in any sphere—environmental, economic, social, political, and cultural. Peace is at the root of political security. But peace is not simply the absence of violence. Issues of equity and accessibility are, by their very nature, fundamental and pressing security concerns. Thus, the interdependent nature of peace, human rights, equity, and sustainable development are tenets for the deep understanding of human security and insecurity. For analytical purposes our framework could be conceived in terms of five subsystems and their regimes: environmental security, economic security, social security, political security, and cultural security.

Insecurity threats emerge as a direct consequence of dysfunctional regimes in their multiple and overlapping systemic dimensions. For instance, the reproduction and expansion of environmental insecurity, defined as unsustainability both at the micro and macro levels, are manifested through closely interconnected thrusts in circumstances, ideas, structures, actions, and effects. Actions and behaviors are influenced by values, they occur in a context, they are instrumentalized in structures (and regimes), and above all, they have consequences. Social systems are not inherently self-correcting. Learning and the acquisition of wisdom, combined with management regimes (environmental, economic, social, political, and cultural) are central to the attainment of security, both as a structured attribute and as a cultural practice. Who manages these regimes, when, and how, have fundamental consequences on their outcomes and sustainability.

The existence and maintenance of a viable order for peace and security are contingent upon a culture and pedagogy of peace, while the latter is, in turn, constrained and conditioned by the former. In this sense, ethics, agency, and consequences are intrinsically tied together in systems of knowledge/action. These systemic relationships can be summarized and simplified as a matrix (Table 3.1).

MUTUAL VULNERABILITY: POLITICS, POLICIES, AND OUTCOMES

This mode of analysis brings into question the fundamental premise of the dominant international paradigms that have emerged


since World War II and since the collapse of the Soviet Union, specifically, the notion that the North is intrinsically secure and the South insecure. Instead, in an increasingly interdependent world, the weaknesses in the global South increase the vulnerability of the North in ways that are not accounted for in standard international relations and development theory—leading to what I call mutual vulnerability.

A central derivation of my approach is that the world’s interdependence creates mutual vulnerability for all nations and individuals and that such vulnerability increases with interdependence. This situation poses a question of consequential ethics (Nef, 2001). Without venturing into the arcane realm of prediction, this analytical perspective made it possible to foresee in the late 1980s and early 1990s that the mounting problems of the periphery had transformed themselves into problems for the center and had begun to flow upstream. In the specific realm of conflict and violence, the human security paradigm offered a conceptual prefiguration, not only of environmental, economic, and health crises, but also of the kind of violence that happened on September 11. My remarks on terrorism and antiterrorism in 1995 underscored the predictability of decision makers, given the prevailing paradigms in international affairs: “In the recent past, many policies designed to fight ‘subversion’ had the unintended effect of multiplying insecurity in both the periphery and the centre. . . . [P]olicies proclaimed in the name of antiterrorism have enhanced both antidemocratic predispositions and government by deceit” (Nef, 1995, chap. 5).

The combination of a structural trend—post Cold War unipolarity—with the conjunctural occurrence of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon facilitated the resurgence of a national security discourse with messianic overtones. In a moment of crisis of the trilateral doctrine, the new national security posture has partially displaced and partly recombined with, the neo-materialist market ideology. This revamped version of national security, superintended by a civil-military bureaucracy, constitutes a sort of ideological default for global investors and speculators.

However, the revamping of the “old” realist national security paradigm is not a simple happenstance. The construction of this “Project for the New Century,” formally announced in 1997 has bee

52 Jorge Nef

Tab

le 3

.1 H

uman

Sec

urity

/Inse

curit

y: A

naly

tical

Mat

rix

VA

RIA

BLES

E

CO

LO

GY

(L

IFE)

EC

ON

OM

Y

(WEA

LTH

)

SOC

IET

Y

(SU

PPO

RT:

w

ell-b

eing

, re-

spec

t, re

ctitu

de)

POL

ITY

(P

OW

ER)

CU

LT

UR

E

(KN

OW

LED

GE,

SK

ILL)

E

nvir

onm

enta

l C

apita

l E

cono

mic

C

apita

l So

cial

C

apita

l Po

litic

al

Cap

ital

Cul

tura

l C

apita

l C

onte

xt

The

natu

ral

envi

ronm

ent:

biop

hysi

cal

surr

ound

ings

of

soci

al li

fe

Styl

es o

f de

velo

pmen

t: ec

onom

ic

prac

tices

Expe

ctat

ions

, so

cial

pra

ctic

es

and

tradi

tions

Exte

rnal

and

in

tern

al c

onfli

cts:

ca

pabi

litie

s/

expe

ctat

ions

, el

ites/

mas

ses,

sove

reig

nty/

de

pend

ency

Con

stru

ctio

n of

th

e so

cial

and

ph

ysic

al w

orld

an

d co

llect

ive

expe

rienc

es

Cul

ture

Ec

ocul

ture

: C

osm

ic v

isio

n of

en

viro

nmen

t

Econ

omic

do

ctrin

es: w

ays

of u

nder

stan

ding

th

e ec

onom

y

Soci

al d

octri

nes:

va

lues

, nor

ms

and

attit

udes

; id

entit

y an

d m

o-

dal p

erso

nalit

y

Ideo

logi

es: t

he

role

of t

he st

ate

and

its re

latio

ns

with

the

gove

rned

Philo

soph

y:

(axi

olog

ies,

tele

olog

ies,

and

deon

tolo

gies

), et

hica

l and

m

oral

cod

es


Tab

le 3

.1 C

ontin

ued

E

nvir

onm

enta

l C

apita

l E

cono

mic

C

apita

l So

cial

C

apita

l Po

litic

al

Cap

ital

Cul

tura

l C

apita

l St

ruct

ure

Nat

ural

vs.

reso

urce

en

dow

men

t, sp

atia

l di

strib

utio

n (r

e-la

tions

hip

betw

een

envi

ronm

ent a

nd

reso

urce

s), a

nd

“env

ironm

enta

l fo

otpr

int”

Econ

omic

uni

ts:

cons

umer

s/

prod

ucer

s;

labo

r/cap

ital

Rol

es a

nd st

atus

: so

cial

stru

ctur

es,

grou

ps, c

lass

es,

frac

tions

Bro

kers

and

in

stitu

tions

: in

tere

st g

roup

s, pa

rties

, cliq

ues,

gove

rnm

ents

, bu

reau

crac

ies

Educ

atio

nal

stru

ctur

es, b

oth

form

al a

nd

info

rmal

: sc

hool

s, un

iver

si-

ties,

lear

ning

co

mm

uniti

es

Proc

esse

s D

estru

ctio

n/

rege

nera

tion

of

air,

wat

er, l

and,

flo

ra, f

auna

Prod

uctio

n an

d di

strib

utio

n of

go

ods a

nd se

rvic

es

Inte

ract

ions

: co

oper

atio

n,

conf

lict,

mob

iliza

tion/

dem

obili

zatio

n

Con

flict

-man

age-

men

t: co

nsen

sus,

repr

essi

on, r

e-be

llion

, sta

lem

ate

Lear

ning

: co

nstru

ctio

n of

co

nsci

ousn

ess,

know

ledg

e, b

ase

valu

es, p

roce

sses

an

d te

leol

ogie

s E

ffec

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54 Jorge Nef

carefully crafted by its proponents since at least 1992. Yet its intellectual roots go much deeper. They were first announced on February 24, 1948, by Cold War architect George Kennan, then head of planning at the U.S. State Department:

[W]e have about 50% of the world’s wealth, but only 6.3% of its population. . . . In this situation, we cannot fail to be the object of envy and resentment. Our real task in the coming period is to devise a pattern of relationships which will permit us to maintain this position of disparity. . . . To do so, we will have to dispense with all sentimentality and day-dreaming; and our attention will have to be concentrated everywhere on our immediate national objectives. . . . We should cease to talk about vague and . . . unreal objectives such as human rights, the raising of the living standards, and democratization. The day is not far off when we are going to have to deal in straight power concepts. The less we are then hampered by idealistic slogans, the better. (Kennan, 1948)

As a multi-sided global crisis escalates, ruling elites, their consent-manufacturing propaganda, and their publics seem to have a built-in affinity for denial and resistance to change, and for clinging to outmoded mental models and dysfunctional solutions. This affinity explains why the porous discourses of modernity, economic determinism, and conventional—as well as new—national security plans, and now globalization (and more specifically what Steger [2002] has called “globalism”), have exhibited a remarkable ability to incorporate or trivialize intellectual challenges to their hegemony, generally discounting them as ineffective, simplistic, radical, or pessimistic.

TOWARD A CITIZEN-BASED THIRD SYSTEM From the above presentation, one may surmise that the people-

centered perspective of long-term social, economic, and environmental sustainability offered by human security is a most promising opportunity for reframing and challenging the ruling orthodoxy. It also offers an agenda for peace and a different management regime. The 1992 Rio Summit (United Nations, 1992a), the 2001 World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg, and the World Social Forums (beginning in 2001 in Porto Alegre, Brazil) have provided a prime opportunity for


advancing citizen-based global agendas of peace, development, sustainability, and democracy.

This Third System of emerging citizens is gaining a foothold in many places around the world—in peoples’ summits and popular movements from South Africa to India to Brazil. Even though official media and power elites ignore them and are not above labeling them as naive, “terrorists,” or “anarchists,” their very vitality, versatility, and dynamism are increasingly shifting the center stage away from the G7, OECD, and regional summit meetings. The very fact that the official global princes and merchants have gone to extremes to exclude most of the world from their forums has meant a very isolated existence for these oligarchs, requiring them to live under protective armor and surrounded by global hostility. Meanwhile the new movements challenging the status quo are becoming ever more interconnected. Such collaborations open the possibilities of an internationalized Tiers État, with which rulers and officials sooner or later will have to come to terms.

There is an urgent need for bringing new voices and old silenced voices to the table and for taking a fresh look at the world to break the present cycle of self-reinforcing dysfunctions. Unsustainable, undemocratic, and inequitable development is a threat to the collective security of everybody—not only “down there” but also “up here.” We must redefine the global paradigm entirely to realize human security: the indivisible security and well-being of all humankind. That security is inclusive and seeks the reduction of threats and deprivations by emphasizing the prevention of the causes of insecurity, rather than just the means to contain, or disguise, its symptoms.

Finally, our approach is a call for truly global learning and understanding. What UNESCO (1998) has called a “culture of peace” is the necessity to reconceptualize the world order, its sources of stress, and possible interventions, rather than offering more of the same morally bankrupt and counterproductive “pragmatic solutions.” This idea of world order stands in clear opposition to the acceptance and often imposition of stratified disorder (Camara, 1971). A deepening crisis may present a window of opportunity to bring other than the usual voices and perspectives into the debate to examine the global predicament in a concerted and integrated way. Only if we are

56 Jorge Nef

able to reject prevailing prejudices and stereotypes and look at the world as a global community will we be able to move forward effectively in addressing the most pressing and urgent threats to our well being. This new and different security perspective could also be the key to the collective preservation of the species—and of life itself on this planet.

NOTE 1. First presented at the April 2005 “Symposium I: Sustainable

Development and Globalization,” this paper also draws on some ideas from a companion lecture in the Lunch with a Scholar program, University Club of Tampa, College of Arts and Sciences, University of South Florida, January 12, 2005.

REFERENCES Bosch, J. (1967). El pentagonismo: Substituto del imperialismo. Santo

Domingo: Alfa y Omega. Camara, E. (1971, 1975). Spiral of violence. New York: Sheed and Ward,

1975. Originally published in 1971. Dwivedi, O. P. (2006). Sustainable development: The world is still oceans

apart! Paper presented at “Symposium 1: Sustainable Development and Globalization,” 7 April, 2005. University of South Florida, Tampa. Published in this volume.

Escobar, A. (1984). Discourse in power and development: Michel Foucault and the importance of his work to the Third World. Alternatives, 10 (3), 377–400.

Fukuyama, F. (1989). The end of history? National Interest, 16(3), 2-28. Hayek, F. (1976). Law, legislation, and liberty: A new statement of the

liberal principles of justice and political economy. Vol. 2: The mirage of social justice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Head, I. L. (1989, Summer). South-North dangers. Foreign Affairs, 68, 71-86. Head, I. L. (1991). On a hinge of history: The mutual vulnerability of South

and North. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Hogan, J. (2005, March 12). There's one rule for the rich… New Scientist, 6. Kennan, G. (1948). Quoted in T. Weiner & B. Crossette. George F. Kennan

dies at 101; leading strategist of cold war. New York Times, March 18, 2005; also quoted in R. Rojas & E. Prugovecki, The project for the first people century. Retrieved on May 14, 2003 from http://firstpeoples century.net/amemp.htm.


Keohane, R., & Nye, J. (1977). Power and interdependence: World politics in transition. Boston: Little, Brown and Co.

Khator, R. (2006). The evolution of “sustainable development.” Paper presented at “Symposium 1: Sustainable Development and Globalization,” 7 April, 2005, University of South Florida, Tampa. Published in this volume.

Nef, J. (1995). Human security and mutual vulnerability: An exploration into the global political economy of development and underdevelopment. Ottawa, Canada: IDRC Books. Also available at http://archive.idrc.ca/ library/document/103249/index.html.

Nef, J. (1999). Human security and mutual vulnerability: The global political economy of development and underdevelopment (2nd ed.). Ottawa, Canada: IDRC Books.

Nef, J. (2001). The ethics of mutual vulnerability: A developmental perspective for foreign policy. In R. Irwin (Ed.), Ethics and security in Canadian foreign policy (pp. 17-37). Vancouver, British Columbia: UBC Press.

Nerfin, M. (1986, November-December). Neither prince nor merchant: Citizen. Introduction to the third system. IFDA Dossier, No. 56, 3-28.

Pareto, V. (1968). The rise and fall of elites: An application of theoretical sociology. Totowa, NJ: Bedminster Press.

Rhodes, C. J. (1885). Quoted in V. I. Lenin, Imperialism, the highest stage of capitalism, 1916, from Selected Works, Lenin Internet Archive. Lenin was citing (1898) Die Neue Zeit, 16(1), 304. Electronic version available at http://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/.

Rostow, W. (1960). The economics of take-off into sustained growth; proceedings of a conference held by the International Economic Association. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

Seers, D. (1977). The meaning of development. International Development Review, 2, 2-7.

Sklar, H. (1980). Trilateralism: Managing dependency and democracy, an overview. In H. Sklar (Ed.), Trilateralism: Elite planning for world management (pp. 1-55). Montreal, Canada: Black Rose.

Stallings, B. (1978). Class conflict and economic development in Chile, 1958-1973. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

Steger, M. (2002). Globalism: The new market ideology. New York: Rowman and Littlefield.

UNESCO. (1998, January). Resolution adopted by the General Assembly: A/Res/52/13. Electronic version available at: http://www3.unesco.org/ iycp/kits/res52-13_en.htm.

United Nations. (1992a). The Rio declaration: Report of the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development. Conference held at Rio

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de Janeiro, June 3-4, 1992. Electronic version available at http://www. un.org/documents/ga/conf151/aconf15126-1annex1.htm.

United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs. (1992b). Earth summit agenda 21. New York: United Nations. Also available at http:// www.un.org/esa/sustdev/documents/agenda21/english/agenda21toc.htm.


9 9

Part II: Economic and Political Considerations

4 4 4 Shaping Globalization for Sustainable Development Kwabena Gyimah-Brempong

INTRODUCTION A vigorous debate continues about the effects of globalization on

less developed countries (LDCs), especially its impact on poverty eradication and sustainable development. On the one hand, proponents of globalization, particularly economists, see globalization as an incomparable force for poverty eradication, increased income, and possibilities for endless improvement in the well-being of all nations. While they recognize distributional consequences of global economic interaction, proponents of globalization argue that the benefits obtained by winners far exceed what is needed to compensate losers.

In contrast, opponents of globalization see it as a negative force in LDCs—a zero-sum game in which the gains of the developed world translate to the losses of LDCs. In particular, they argue that, because of unequal bargaining powers, any benefits from globalization mainly accrue to the developed world, lead to further impoverishment of the poor in LDCs, and even more importantly, contribute to environmental degradation and resource depletion, hence making development unsustainable at best and, at worse, impossible.

62 Kwabena Gyimah-Brempong

Both sides can and do cite available statistics to bolster their positions. On the side of globalization as a positive force are numerous studies that show a strong and positive relationship between openness on the one hand and income growth, equitable distribution, improved health, and other indices of development (Sachs & Warner, 1995; Temple, 1999). Anecdotal evidence also seems to indicate that developing countries engaged most intensively in globalizing are also growing most rapidly and reducing poverty the most. China and India are frequently cited as examples. The economic “miracle” that is occurring in both countries did not begin until they opened up to the global economy. Even in the economic basket case of sub-Saharan Africa, two countries—Botswana and Mauritius—have done exceptionally well by world standards in the last two decades as a result of their openness to the world economy. The health status of people in LDCs has also improved greatly since the 1950s when globalization began its current acceleration.

However, one can also point to a number of negative factors associated with globalization. For example, the Food and Agricultural Organization (FAO) reports that deforestation in the tropics has been occurring at the rate of 0.71% a year since the 1970s while the comparable rate for the developed world is 0.19%. World Bank statistics also suggest that, while the incidence of poverty has been decreasing worldwide, it has been on the increase in the poorest countries. At the same time, environmental pollution and deforestation intensified in LDCs. These trends have occurred at the same time as accelerated globalization, leading the opponents of globalization to ascribe a causal relationship to these correlations. Of course, the cause of globalization is not helped much by the global reach of some multinational corporations—McDonalds, Wal-Mart, Levis, Mercedes, Toyota, and Starbucks—suggesting a domination of “southern culture” by “northern culture.” Neither side of this debate is 100% correct; the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Can globalization be a force for positive change in LDCs in terms of reducing poverty and improving the living standards of the majority in LDCs in a sustainable way, as its defenders claim, or is it the “monster” that critics describe? Can LDCs escape the clutches of the developed world by living apart from the globalization process? If globalization has not been a force for positive change in LDCs, how can these countries harness the forces of globalization to benefit

Shaping Globalization for Sustainable Development 63

them and to ensure that development is sustainable? These are some of the issues that I will explore in this paper.

My main argument is that globalization has both positive and negative aspects, that the benefits outweigh the costs, and that it is possible to use the globalization process to achieve sustainable development. I further argue that globalization is a force that LDCs cannot escape or live apart from. Therefore LDCs should position themselves to take advantage of the benefits provided by globalization to achieve sustainable development while minimizing the potential costs. They can do this, I propose, by participating in shaping the architecture of globalization and pursuing internal policies to take advantage of the globalization architecture that is developed.

I do not provide any theoretical model in this paper but rather a general discussion of the relationship between globalization and sustainable development. Specifically, I discuss how LDCs can organize to take advantage of the benefits of globalization to reduce poverty while ensuring sustainability of development. The paper is not empirical in its approach; it is rather a synthesis of existing ideas to illustrate the argument that globalization can be used as an instrument for sustainable development in LDCs. While the paper is written at a general level, I will occasionally refer to examples from the continent I know best—Africa—as well as from elsewhere in the developing world. I will also occasionally refer to economic concepts to illustrate my points. The concept and mechanisms of sustainability are a more complex phenomenon than can be treated in one short paper. In this paper, therefore, I will use examples from deforestation and environmental degradation to illustrate the relationship between globalization and sustainable development.

In the next section, I provide working definitions of globalization and sustainable development. I then discuss the possible mechanisms through which globalization can affect sustainable development and why some LDCs may not have benefitted from the current wave of accelerated globalization. I next describe policies that LDCs can pursue to take advantage of globalization.


GLOBALIZATION AND SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT: DEFINITIONS

The Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions at the University of South Florida has defined globalization on its website as

the worldwide compression of space and time and the intensification of consciousness about the human and natural world as a whole. The key features of globalization in this context are:

• Increasing networks that extend across larger amounts of space and operate with reduced time constraints. Growing awareness of connections, commonalities, and differences.

• Dissolution of the autonomy of actors and institutions at all levels (e.g., local, national, regional, and international).

• Adoption of identity tied to the emerging global whole. • Growing pressures on ecosystems worldwide. (Globalization, 2005)

For economists, this definition is a fancy way of saying that the space and time for economic interactions have shrunk, that the cost of economic and social interactions across borders has decreased, and that prices are being equalized across space and through time.

Globalization is not a new phenomenon; it has been going on from biblical times through the 15th century when Columbus and Portuguese explorers traveled all over the globe looking for spices. In its current manifestation, the world has become a global village. In times past as now, globalization was driven by the purpose of improving people’s living standards. The difference between earlier episodes of globalization and the current wave is the sheer speed, intensity, scope, and ease with which people can interact over space and time. The speed, scope, and intensity of the current wave of globalization are fueled by rapid increases in technology, especially in transportation and information technology, and the ability to cram a lot of value into small volumes that are easier and cheaper to transport. Jet travel, the telephone, and the Internet have made it very easy to not only communicate and trade across long distances, but also to live, work, and play in different places at the same time. Improvements in manufacturing technology that allow more value to be packed into a smaller volume have made it much easier to separate the sources of production from the consumer.


This process has not only increased the scope and breadth of human interaction but has also increased the speed of this interaction. One of the benefits of such rapid and widespread human interaction is the quick diffusion of knowledge and technology, especially in health, education, and agriculture. Of course, this rapid and widespread human interaction has its negative side. Because people have become global neighbors, externalities associated with individual or group behavior, both positive and negative, have increased. Among those associated with consumption are environmental pollution and deforestation. The current wave of globalization is irreversible and unstoppable. The best strategy for LDCs is to take advantage of the benefits that globalization provides while minimizing its possible costs.

Development, from the economist’s point of view, implies an improvement in the living conditions of the majority of a nation’s citizens—not only in their physical well being but also improvements in such aspects as their spiritual life, general happiness, right to be free, and the right and ability to enjoy the beauties of nature. By this definition, development is not limited to income or growth. Indeed, if leaving an inheritance to one’s successors makes one better off (happier), then such an ability is an aspect of development. In essence, the sustainability of development itself becomes part and parcel of the development process. To be specific, this definition of development implies that conservation, reforestation, and depollution of the environment all constitute development, if that is what society values. Adding to physical goods does not have to be part of development. Thus, even to the economist, development need not be equated with unbridled materialism or consumerism to the exclusion of other factors that improve human life. Although economists sometimes use income or consumption levels to measure development, they are clear in indicating that income is only a rough proxy for development, which is obviously a multidimensional concept. True, most of the indicators of development, such as nutrition, health, and education, are generally correlated with income. So are other, less quantifiable indices such as “freedom to choose.”

Like development, “sustainable development” is not an easy term to define since sustainability has several meanings and interpretations. One can identify four possible perspectives of


sustainable development—the neoclassical economic perspective, the resource balance perspective, the ecological perspective, and the intergenerational equity perspective. In this paper, I will adopt the definition of sustainable development propounded by the World Commission on Environment and Development, the famous Brundtland Commission Report, which defined sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987, p. 43).

According to this definition, development is sustainable if it allows future generations to have no less than what the current generation receives. There is no requirement in this definition that the elements of the vector of goods and services that make up the current generation’s ability to function should be the same elements that enter future generations’ functioning. After all, the kinds of goods and services that the current generation enjoys are different from the kinds of goods and services enjoyed by people two generations ago. What matters in our definition of sustainable development is that the happiness of the current generation does not compromise the happiness of future generations. This definition of sustainable development is consistent with an intergenerational equity perspective on sustainable development. Aristotle was describing something like this concept when he stated that justice of exchange has to be oriented toward equality: one may not give less than one has received.

An important concept that is relevant for sustainable development is substitutability—the idea that some outputs (inputs) can be used in place of another set of outputs (inputs). Imported output (input) can be used in place of domestically produced output (input), human-made resources can be used in place of natural resources in the production process, and the composition of a utility bundle can change among individuals as well as through time. In the same way, technology can partially substitute for natural resources, thus decreasing natural resource requirements for the production of a given output.

For example, recent advances in technology have made it possible to produce the same output with fewer inputs of natural resources than used to be the case two decades or so ago. Such


advances enable the conservation of natural resources, hence making development more sustainable. The degree to which humans are able to substitute one output (input) for another to create satisfaction (input) depends on humans’ taste (technology) as they find new uses for things that were hitherto not “useful” and learn to appreciate things more. Another example is the technical progress that enables human beings to create resources out of previously “useless” things. Technical progress implies that resources are not necessarily finite. Nations are able to add to their portfolios of resources and other resources (both human-produced and natural) that can then be substituted for known natural resources. The existence of substitutability implies that development is not limited by the amount of known natural resources.

Unfortunately, past development practices have not always ensured that the current generation’s behavior will not compromise future generations’ abilities to satisfy their needs if the needs of future generations include a clean environment and the enjoyment of nature. Current development practice has led to deforestation, environmental degradation, and air pollution among other ills; and these ills have grown with globalization. However, I contend that these ills are not caused by development per se but by the methods with which society chooses to engage in development. Societies can choose to develop in a sustainable way without compromising the living standards or slowing the pace of development for the present generation. Fortunately, the practitioners of development policy have now recognized that past practices have not always encouraged sustainability and have thus set in motion policies that will encourage sustainable development. Indeed the World Bank (2003) devoted an entire World Development Report to the discussion and recommendation of policies to achieve sustainable development.

The central point that I want to make here is that development is not necessarily incompatible with sustainability and that the current generation will not have to slow the pace of progress to ensure that future generations are able to meet their needs. What determines sustainability of development is the character of development or the methods employed by the current generation in following its development path. A “greener” and “cleaner” development path can ensure sustainability while a “slash and burn” development path will guarantee unsustainable development. After all, cleaning the


environment and restoring natural resources are part and parcel of the development process, just as providing health services, fostering education, and producing automobiles are.

THE COSTS AND BENEFITS OF GLOBALIZATION How does globalization affect sustainable development? Table

4.1 presents some data on environmental indicators by level of human development. These data suggest that poverty and low environmental quality are highly correlated. In addition to the data provided in Table 4.1, the 2003 World Development Report indicates that the areas facing shortages of both surface and ground water are mostly the poor tropical areas of the developing world; not a single rich industrialized nation faces a water shortage. Figure 4.1 shows the correlation between the rate of income growth rate and that of environmental deterioration—namely, that there is no significant correlation between economic growth and environment degradation. If one assumes that water availability, undegraded land, and a clean environment are necessary for sustainable development, then one can conclude from the data that sustainable development in poor countries may be compromised but that economic growth does not necessarily have any impact on deforestation.

Table 4.1 Environmental Indicators, 2000 Dev. Lev. Sanit. Parti. CO2 Defor. (%) (mg/m3) (per $ GDP) (Ann. %∆) Low 48.0 69.0 0.25 0.90 Medium 83.0 49.0 0.42 0.10 High 100.0 33.0 0.44 -0.20 Sources: World Bank (2003); The Little Green Book, 2003


Figure 4.1 Average Annual Rural Population Growth Rate Source: World Development Report (World Bank, 2003, p. 26)

What can explain the negative correlation between the level of development and environmental degradation we observe in the data? Is the environment in poor countries bad because of exploitation by rich countries? Is deforestation in the developing world due to globalization and the resultant increased trade with rich countries? Do developing countries have to exhaust their natural resources to develop? Trade statistics indicate that about 75% of increased world trade (by value and volume) in the last three decades has been intra-firm trade among developed countries. Yet one does not see the negative effects of trade and globalization on developed countries. From the trade and growth data, it is difficult to assign globalization as the source of this environmental degradation in LDCs.

Far from exploitation by the developed world, the source of the environmental degradation in LDCs—hence, what seems to be its current pattern of unsustainable development—lies in poverty itself, poor institutions, and bad policy choices. For example, although the harvesting of timber for export to markets in developed countries contributes to deforestation in the tropics, by far the most important


source of deforestation in the tropics is use of forest timber for fuel, due to the lack of other sources of energy. Thus, the greater the density of population on rural land, the greater the probability of deforestation.

Figure 4.2 shows the correlation between the annual growth of rural population and the proportion of the population living on fragile lands. It shows that the faster the population growth, the higher the proportion of the rural population living on fragile lands—an indicator of land degradation. In the same way, the loss of top soil in LDCs has been due to poor agricultural practices in the production of subsistence crops rather than the production of export crops.

Figure 4.2 Percentage Annual Change in Environmental Index Source: World Development Report (World Bank, 2003, p. 61)

On-going research in southern Africa by a group of researchers

at North Carolina State University’s Atmospheric Science Department suggests that about 70-80 percent of atmospheric pollution in the region can be attributed to wildfires (Swap, 2005).


Of course, in this part of the world, wildfires are caused mainly by farmers clearing bush to prepare their land for cultivation. Therefore, while globalization may contribute to environmental degradation, the major cause of environmental degradation in LDCs may be due to poverty.

The negative environmental impacts of these forces have grown exponentially in recent decades as population growth in LDCs has accelerated. Any force that reduces poverty, such as globalization, is likely to reduce (even reverse) these negative environmental impacts to ensure sustainable development. To the extent that globalization can be used to reduce poverty and improve the living standards of the poor without necessarily exhausting resources, it can be an engine for sustainable development. However, economic growth is only a necessary but not sufficient condition for sustainable development.

BENEFITS OF GLOBALIZATION There are several possible benefits of globalization that should,

in theory, enhance the prospects of sustainable development in LDCs. Neoclassical trade theory suggests several mechanisms through which international interaction can positively affect sustainable development. In this tradition, international trade leads to specialization and efficient allocation of resources; hence, globalization allows nations to consume outside their production possibility frontiers. Such consumption allows for more rapid development than would be possible were the nation not to trade with the rest of the world. Another source of efficiency emanating from international economic exchange is that it increases the size of markets for LDCs, thus making it possible for them to take advantage of economies of scale. In this process, LDCs could reduce poverty and improve the living standards of the majority of their citizens.

While neoclassical trade theory indicates that the gains from global economic interaction come mainly from the efficient allocation of existing resources in a country, another line of argument for the positive effects of globalization is that the process enriches and broadens the resource base of countries. International


interaction makes it possible for nations to acquire resources that would not otherwise be available to that country.

Besides critical inputs that complement a nation’s resources, technology and other forms of knowledge that can be obtained through global interaction are very important for the development process. The advances made in agriculture, health, information, and education in LDCs in the last half century could not have been possible without international economic interaction. The economic development literature suggests that probably the most important sources of economic progress are education and research and development. Empirical evidence suggests that more than 90% of research and development is conducted in the developed world. Without global interaction, LDCs would not have access to this new knowledge and might be further left behind.

Furthermore, development involves freedom from oppression in any form as well as the freedom to choose. Apart from providing the opportunity to increase a nation’s sustenance levels, globalization can greatly contribute to increased social, political, and personal liberties. Two of the major sources of freedom and liberties for citizens of a country are openness and the flow of information. Very often, the exposure of atrocities and oppression in a country, as well as the resulting pressure by the international community, leads to improvements in civil, political, human, and economic liberties. The on-going civil revolutions in Eastern Europe could not have succeeded without the involvement of the international press. In the same way, international pressure is partly responsible for ending the apartheid regime in South Africa. International pressure has also reduced the level of state violence in Zimbabwe. Such pressure can include direct interventions, in which the international community comes to the aid of a country’s citizens.

Rapid economic development fostered by globalization, if harnessed properly, could ensure the sustainability of development in LDCs. For example, people living in countries with fragile lands and environments need not produce their own food in a globalized world but could import it in exchange for something they can export. An example is Costa Rica’s development strategy of eco-tourism. Such an approach allows a country to preserve its lands, forests, and environmental quality, thus ensuring the sustainability of development.


Rapid economic growth also allows nations to conserve their natural resources by allowing for the substitution of some human-produced resources for these natural resources (for example, electricity can be substituted for wood as fuel) and by replenishing some natural resources (for example, through reforestation). While increased development could provide the ability to preserve natural resources and environmental quality, development also provides the will and desire to improve and preserve the environment for sustainable development.

Environmental quality and natural resource preservation are luxury goods, the enjoyment of which increases faster than income. Therefore, as development proceeds, citizens will demand more environmental quality and “greener” nature. Thus, development could lead to increased preservation and improved environmental quality since the ability to preserve and improve the environment is increasing simultaneously with the desire to do so. It is not surprising that environmental standards are much higher in developed countries than in low-income countries.

These positive effects of globalization can be possible only if countries pursue the right policies. For example, there is no guarantee that a majority of the people will enjoy the benefits from economic growth fostered by globalization if the nation does not pursue policies to ensure poverty reduction. Policies that distort the domestic economy could result in globalization worsening the living standards of the poor in the developing world, in addition to leading to deforestation, environmental decay, and unsustainable development (Borhesi & Vercelli, 2003; Speth, 2003). Inefficient institutions, inefficient pricing, and poor governance are some of the factors that could lead to unsustainable development in the face of globalization (Asafu-Adjaye, 2004; Bohn & Deacon, 2000; Ferreira, 2004; Lopez, 1997, etc.).

Inefficient institutions, such as uncertain property rights, allow for the overexploitation of natural resources, while not pricing goods and resources according to their relative scarcity values leads to their overuse. Globalization is likely to exacerbate these poor outcomes. For example, in the absence of strong and effective property rights, globalization is likely to result in the excessive harvesting of tropical forests and the loss of top soil to accommodate the demand from world markets (Lopez, 1997). This case likely prevails for


underpriced resources. For example, subsidizing chemical fertilizers or gasoline will lead to their overuse, resulting in water pollution and the overuse of energy resources.

Most economists agree that globalization can be and has been a positive force in economic development. Empirical work has shown that globalization has been a positive force for sustainable development (Barro, 1991; Mankiw, Romer, & Weil, 1992; Sachs & Warner, 1995). Indeed, a recent study concludes that, had African countries fully opened up to the global economy, per capita income in Africa would have grown by about 0.8% per year more than in fact it has during the last 20 years (Atardi & Sala-i-Martin, 2003.)

Of course, there is no guarantee that rapid economic growth will lead to development, let alone sustainable development. But there can be no doubt that fast-growing Asian countries, including China, India, South Korea, and Taiwan, have used the open economy to achieve rapid and sustainable development. Even in sub-Saharan Africa, a region that has generally witnessed economic stagnation, Botswana and Mauritius are not only the two best performers but are also the only two countries that have opened up to the global economy and pursued strategies to take advantage of globalization.

Not all countries have been able to take advantage of the current wave of globalization to achieve sustainable development. For most of sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America, and South Asia, globalization has not been an unqualified success, as its proponents argue. For some developing countries, globalization has been correlated with increased income inequality, increased and unsustainable consumerism, deforestation, loss of plant cover, and water pollution as a few people use the opportunity provided by the opening up of global markets to overexploit their nation’s resources. This outcome occurs because of the need to generate foreign exchange to import goods from the developed world to service external debt. Some researchers argue that globalization allows developed countries to export their “dirty” industries to the developing world instead of expending resources to clean them and keep them at home. Simultaneously, the need to generate foreign exchange to import goods and to service external debts forces indebted poor countries to accept polluting industries that they otherwise would reject (Frey, 1995; Hilz, 1992; Marshall, 1999). The second line of argument is


that globalization leads to the over-harvesting of logs for export purposes (Shimamoto, Ubukata & Seki, 2004).

Margolis, Shogren, and Fischer (2005) argue that trade is the major source of invasive species being introduced into local environments. Although not arguing for a reduction in or slowing of globalization, they urge nations to consider these negative externalities of globalization. In addition, globalization has provided opportunities for skilled people in LDCs to emigrate to developed countries, thus resulting in the loss of human capital (“brain drain”) as well as the cultural domination of LDCs by developed countries. Such results may be due in part to LDCs allowing developed countries to set the globalization agenda, distorted internal economies, uncertain property rights, unwillingness or inability to deal with market failure, rent seeking, corruption, and poor and nonparticipatory governance.

TAKING ADVANTAGE OF GLOBALIZATION’S BENEFITS

How can LDCs take advantage of the opportunities provided by globalization to achieve sustainable development? The globalization process can either be an engine for sustainable development or it can result in unsustainable growth and consumption levels by developing countries. Whichever path LDCs travel on their development journey depends on the choices they make, both individually and collectively. While the interests and needs of LDCs differ—and hence what development paths they choose to pursue may differ among themselves—there are some common actions that they all need to take to benefit from the opportunities provided by globalization.

These policies fall into two general categories: (a) policies that shape the architecture of globalization, and (b) policies that take advantage of globalization. The first set of policies are, by definition, international in scope and therefore require cooperation among LDCs and between LDCs and developed countries. The second set of policies are internal to each LDC or a group of countries in a region in developing countries.


SHAPING THE GLOBALIZATION ARCHITECTURE The rules governing international relations and interactions (or

what I refer to as the architecture of globalization) have in the past generally been developed and enforced by the developed world. For example, whereas the developing world contains 80% of the world’s population, with the exception of China all the permanent veto-carrying members of the United Nations Security Council are from the developed world. Similarly, the rules governing international trade, international finance, intellectual property rights, and the provision of global public goods have been negotiated generally among countries of the developed world and enforced by them. It is unlikely that the interest of LDCs will be paramount in the minds of developed nations during these negotiations.

Whether deliberate or not, these rules work to the disadvantage of poor countries. For example, international trade rules require all countries, including LDCs, to reduce all forms of protection. However, developed countries continue to protect their agricultural sectors—sectors in which LDCs may be competitive—while pushing LDCs to remove all protection from their goods. The usual argument for the inability of LDCs to participate in negotiating the architecture of globalization is that they lack the resources, both financial and human, to participate in these processes.

It is clear that, regardless of how efficiently LDCs run their economies internally, they are not likely to benefit from globalization if the “deck is stacked against them.” For example, worsening terms of trade (perhaps as a result of collusion among developed countries) could lead to impoverishing a developing country even though it increases its total output as a result of international economic interaction (immiserization of growth) (Singer, 1989). It is therefore necessary that LDCs actively and vigorously pursue their interest in crafting the globalization architecture. In particular, LDCs must be actively engaged in developing the rules governing world trade, world finance, world governance, and the provision of global public goods, among other issues.

One of the major determinants of how effectively LDCs can take advantage of international economic interaction is the rules that govern such interactions. For a long time, the rules governing


international exchange were established in the World Trade Organization (WTO), its predecessor, the General Agreement of Trade and Tariffs (GATT) and the United Nations Commission on Trade and Development (UNCTAD). These rules have long been created and implemented by developed countries. LDCs should get involved in the negotiations and put their interests on the table.

Knowledge in its various forms is likely to be the key determinant of sustainable development in the future. Without access to new knowledge and technologies, LDCS are likely to further fall behind in development. Increased population pressure on natural and other resources will lead to unsustainable development. Therefore, LDCs should be actively involved in developing rules governing such issues as trade-related intellectual property rights and technology transfer in WTO negotiations. LDCs should also be actively involved in designing the rules that govern international finance, since such agreements determine the flow of resources across countries.

In addition to the global architecture dealing with purely economic issues, LDCs cannot afford to leave rules of world governance in the hands of the developed world as economic policy cannot be implemented without political support. Furthermore, the economic rules established within the WTO and other fora may be meaningless unless these rules and policies can be enforced. As indicated above, although the developing world has about 80% of the world’s population, it has only 20% (China) of the permanent membership of the U.N. Security Council. Such an imbalance of power in world decision-making bodies is not likely to serve the development interest of LDCs, especially in cases where such interests may clash with those of the developed world. It is this area in which participation in the development of and inclusion in the governance architecture is important for the sustainable development of LDCs. (Incidentally, while Japan has applied for permanent membership of the U.N. Security Council, African countries are squabbling over which country among them should join the Security Council.) Equally important is the need for LDCs to participate in the development and provision of global public goods, such as efforts to reduce global warming and to reduce air pollution.

It is not only necessary that LDCs participate in crafting the architecture for the provision of global public goods but for them to


bear their fair share of the cost of implementing these efforts. The practice of requesting and receiving exemptions from efforts to reduce air pollution, for instance, only increases their pollution and decreases their ability to achieve sustainable development. China has become one of the leading polluters in the world in recent years, partly as a result of its exemption from some of the most stringent standards of the Kyoto protocol. In the same way, most African countries which lag far behind in economic development have become polluters because old automobiles that can no longer meet stringent environmental standards in Europe have been exported to Africa. Developing countries need not experience “environmental Kuznets curves.” Avoiding them is a choice. In addition, asking for exemptions removes whatever moral authority LDCs may have in asking the developed world to set and observe higher standards in the provision of global public goods.

The arguments LDCs have put forward for not participating in the development of the globalization architecture are that they do not have the resources—material or human—or the political influence to effectively participate in these long-drawn-out and complex negotiations. While it may be true that some individual LDCs may not have the resources to participate, it is possible for LDCs to improve their bargaining power and negotiating skills by pooling their resources and forming alliances. The recent collective stand taken by LDCs on agricultural pricing supports in developed countries in Mexico suggests that LDCs can collectively pursue their interests and influence the course of negotiations.

One should, however, recognize the heterogeneity of interests among LDCs in crafting the needed alliances. In some cases, the alliance may be regional in nature; in other cases, the alliance must be based on mutual interests rather than geography. The key point is to allow for flexibility to accommodate the heterogeneity of interests in LDCs in these negotiations.

INTERNAL REFORMS TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF GLOBALIZATION

Participating in the creation of the globalization architecture will not help LDCs if they do not develop and implement policies that take advantage of the architecture developed. However, LDCs


cannot take advantage of any globalization architecture unless they reform their economies internally. As Lopez (1997) shows for Ghana and as other researchers have shown elsewhere, opening up to the world economy with a domestically distorted economy could lead to deforestation, environmental decay, possible increases in poverty in rural areas, and increased inequality. Several policies could be discussed here; but for the sake of brevity, I mention only three.

Institutional Reforms Probably the most necessary factor to ensure sustainable and

equitable development with poverty alleviation in a globalized world is the development of appropriate institutions. For sustainable development, the most important institution may be the assignment and enforcement of property rights, especially for land and other natural resources. Without properly assigned and enforced property rights, natural resource endowments—be they forests, land, water, or the environment—are subject to the tragedy of the commons. The benefits of exploitation by an individual, although low, exceeds the private cost of exploitation. The private benefit is, however, far less than the social costs of exploitation. Assigning and enforcing property rights will ensure that the marginal cost of exploitation will be in line with the marginal benefit of exploitation.

Without properly assigned and vigorously enforced property rights, these natural resources are overexploited, with the consequence that whatever “development” takes place is unsustainable. Several empirical studies and the classic work of Dasgupta and Heal (1979) support this contention. Deacon (1994) and Lopez (1997) show that deforestation in an open economy is related to property rights and population pressure on land. Property rights do not necessarily mean private ownership. Ownership may be held by the village or the clan. But however resources are held, ownership rights and use patterns should be clearly delineated and enforced.

Poverty Reduction It is important that LDCs pursue policies to reduce poverty in

both urban and rural areas. As I have already argued, poverty is probably the most single significant cause of environmental decay in


LDCs. Reducing poverty could therefore preserve natural resources in addition to improving the quality of the environment and ensuring that development is sustainable. Poverty reduction per se may not ensure sustainable development; the nature of the development policies pursued will determine the sustainable development. A development policy that is based on the rapid overexploitation of a nation’s natural resources without regard to future needs is not sustainable, while one that is based on the judicious use and renewal of natural resources is likely to be sustainable. Sustainable development is therefore a function of the efficient utilization of resources in the intergenerational sense. But such an approach is possible only if resources are priced according to their value.

Pricing Resources Appropriately More often, most resources, especially natural resources are sold

at prices far below their scarcity value. This practice leads to their overutilization. For example, there is much traffic congestion on the streets of almost every African city while street buses run virtually empty, mainly because gasoline or diesel fuel is subsidized. In the same way, chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and water are overused in most LDCs because the prices of these resources are below their opportunity cost. There is overharvesting of tropical timber, not because of globalization, but because policymakers in LDCs set the price of these precious resources far below their replacement value. This is especially the case where those who harvest timber are not even required to replant the harvested area. Wood is overused for fuel in poor countries because it is far cheaper than its opportunity cost. As these examples show, the prices assigned to resources should reflect their scarcity.

As far as possible, the market should be allowed to price scarce resources since governments do not have all the information to efficiently price resources at their scarcity value. Besides, government allocation is likely to lead to corruption and rent-seeking activities so that resources may not be allocated to their most efficient uses. However, in cases where the market fails, governments must develop policies to ensure the efficient allocation and conservation of resources. In general, governments in LDCs


should develop targeted policies to change behavior toward conservation and to foster the adoption of alternative technologies.

EFFECTIVE AND INCLUSIVE GOVERNANCE Perhaps more important for sustainable development than

anything else is the need for open, honest, and accountable government, especially in regard to the stewardship of natural resources. Without open, honest, and accountable governance, property rights will not be enforced; and pricing and other government policies designed to correct market failure are likely to be subverted because of bureaucratic corruption and rent-seeking activities.

One of the best ways to achieve openness and honesty in the management of natural resources to ensure sustainability is participatory decision making. Such decision making should involve the people whose livelihoods depend on these natural resources and who therefore have the most interest in ensuring their preservation and regeneration. As Fredriksson et al. (2005) and Conroy and Berte (2004) argue, participatory governance and political competition improve the chances that environmental issues will stay on the “front burner” of public discussions.

Each developing country is unique with different resource endowments and unique paths to development. This heterogeneity among LDCs implies that the relative importance of some of these factors differs across countries and regions of the developing world. Thus, the importance a particular country attaches to any one of these factors depends on the particular situation of the country or region. However, regardless of the resource endowments of any LDC, sustainable development requires that the nation utilize its resources efficiently with intergenerational equity in mind.

CONCLUSION This paper has examined how less developed countries (LDCs)

can use globalization to achieve sustainable development. I acknowledge that the current wave of globalization is an unstoppable force that LDCs will have to live with. Consequently, it can be either a possible source of sustainable development or a source of problems for developing countries. Developing countries should therefore


pursue policies to take advantage of the forces of globalization to achieve sustainable growth.

I have described two sets of policies. The first requires developing countries to participate in shaping the architecture of globalization to their mutual advantage, cooperating with other nations and forming alliances to pursue common goals. The second set is internal to each developing country and must be individually designed to improve the internal workings of economies to achieve efficiency, take advantage of the opportunities offered by globalization, and achieve sustainable development.

REFERENCES Asafu-Adjaye, J. (2004). International trade and sustainable development in

sub-Saharan Africa. International Journal of Social Economics, 31(4), 417-429.

Atardi, V., & Sala-i-Martin, X. (2003). The economic tragedy of the XXth century: Growth in Africa. NBER Working Paper No. 9865. Cambridge, Mass.: National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER).

Bohn, H., & Deacon, R. T. (2000). Ownership risk, investment, and the use of natural resources. American Economic Review, 90, 526-549.

Borghesi, S., & Vercelli, A. (2003). Sustainable globalization. Ecological Economics, 44(1), 77-89.

Barro, R. (1991). Economic growth in a cross-section of countries. Quarterly Journal of Economics, 106(2), 403-443.

Conroy, M., & Berke, P. R. (2004, August). What makes a good sustainable development plan? An analysis of factors that influence principles of sustainable development. Environment and Planning, 35(8), 1381-1396.

Dasgupta, P. M., & Heal, G. M. (1979). Economic theory and exhaustible resources. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

Deacon, R. T. (1994). Deforestation and the rule of law in a cross-section of countries. Land Economics, 70(4), 427-429.

Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions, University of South Florida. (2003). Globalization. Retrieved February 2005 from http://www.cas. usf.edu/ GlobalResearch/globaldefinition.htm.

Ferreira, S. (2004). Deforestation, property rights, and international trade. Land Economics, 80(2), 174-193.

Frey, S. R. (1995). The international traffic in hazardous waste. Journal of Environmental Systems, 23(2), 165-177.


Fredriksson, P., Neumayer, E., Damania, R., & Gates, S. (2005). Environmentalism, democracy, and pollution control, Journal of Environmental Economics and Management, 49(2), 343–365.

Hilz, C. (1992). The international toxic waste trade. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.

Lopez, R. (1997). Environmental externalities in traditional agriculture and the impact of trade liberalization: The case of Ghana. Journal of Development Economics, 53(1), 17-39.

Mankiw, G., Romer, D., & Weil, D. (1992). A contribution to the empirics of economic growth. Quarterly Journal of Economics, 107(2), 407-437.

Margolis, M., Shogren, J. F., & Fischer, C. (2005). How trade politics affect invasive species control. Ecological Economics, 52(3), 305-313.

Marshall, B. (1999). Globalization, environmental degradation and Ulrich Beck’s risk society. Environmental Values, 8(2), 253-275.

Sachs, J. D., & Warner, A. M. (1995). Economic reforms and the process of global integration. Brookings Papers on Economic Activity, 1(1), 1-118.

Shimamoto, M., Ubukata, F., & Seki, Y. (2004). Forest sustainability and free trade of forest products: Cases from Southeast Asia. Ecological Economics, 50(1-2), 23-34.

Singer, H. W. (1989). Terms of trade and economic development. In J. Eatwell, M. Milgate, & P. Newman (Eds.). The New Palgrave Economic Development (pp. 323-29). New York: Macmillan Press.

Speth, J. G. (Ed.). (2003). Worlds apart: Globalization and environment. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.

Swap, B. (2005, January) The SAFARI 2000 program. Paper presented at the National Science Foundation Workshop for Enhancing Collaborative Research on the Environment in Sub-Saharan Africa, Arlington, VA.

Temple, J. (1999, March). The new growth evidence. Journal of Economic Literature, 37(1), 112-156.


World Bank. (2003). World development report, 2003. Washington, DC: World Bank.

4 5 5 Trade and Sustainable Development at the World Trade Organization: Toward a Decision on Genetically Modified Organisms Michael Miller

INTRODUCTION The World Trade Organization (WTO) was created in 1994

through the Uruguay Round of trade negotiations that were taking place under its predecessor, the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), which refers to both an organization and a set of international trade laws. The WTO received an unprecedented mandate and powers. While the focus under GATT was reducing tariffs and eliminating nontariff barriers (e.g., quotas) affecting manufactured goods, the WTO also has a mandate to liberalize trade in services and promote the protection of intellectual property rights. Providing a forum for the negotiation of international trade law, possessing the ability to decide trade disputes, and having the power to enforce those decisions with sanctions, the WTO is arguably the most powerful international organization in existence, challenging the concept of state sovereignty.

Exercise of these powers has, of course, sparked controversy. One of the most controversial issues facing the WTO is disputes

Environmental Degradation in a Conservation Model 85

pitting that organization’s primary aim of trade expansion against the goals of environmental and human health protection. These disputes have often set more-developed countries against less-developed ones. More industrialized countries have been under growing pressure to respond to domestic claims that trade is linked to deterioration in environmental quality, abuses of labor rights, and skewed income distribution. In contrast, there is a growing fear in developing nations that the concerns of environmental groups and organized labor will emerge as a “new protectionism,” lowering the ability of these countries to achieve real economic growth through trade. The clashing of such developmental, environmental, and social concerns contributed to the failure of the WTO Ministerial Conference to launch its proposed Millennium Round negotiation in Seattle in December 1999 (Rosenberg & Miller, 2000, p. 1).1

Divisions between the global North and South continue to be the primary obstacles during trade negotiations. The principal disagreement is between the United States and the European Union on the one hand, and developing nations on the other. The former generally agree on the need for a more flexible interpretation of Article XX in the GATT, which lists when restrictions on trade are permissible.2 Developing countries oppose a more flexible interpretation of this article for fear it might then be used for protectionist purposes. Additionally, poorer countries do not face the same level of pressure from domestic nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) to better integrate environmental concerns into trade law (Vogel, 2004, p. 233).

But trade and environment controversies of a different nature threaten to become more serious in the near future. There has not yet been a major dispute at the WTO regarding trade-restricting provisions within a multilateral environmental agreement (MEA). Furthermore, a transatlantic dispute is now making its way through the WTO’s dispute settlement process which, although it is not an unprecedented type of conflict, could potentially have major economic and political fallout. This paper outlines the trade and environment debate up to this current dispute being heard within the WTO, which includes a challenge by the United States to an alleged E.U. moratorium on the acceptance of new genetically modified (GM) crops. At stake are massive revenues from the sale of these biotechnology products, the alleged threats of genetically modified

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organisms (GMOs) to both the environment and human health, and a transatlantic relationship already weakened by disagreement over how to address terrorism.

As with trade and environment conflicts generally, I argue that the U.S.-E.U. row over GMOs could be dealt with most fairly and productively through the pursuit of “sustainable development.” Sustainable development has come to be understood as the joint pursuit of several goals, each of which has individual importance as well possibly contributing to such other goals as economic prosperity, protecting the environment, protecting public health, making economic growth more equitable, and increasing the involvement of civil society in government policymaking (International Institute, 2005; World Business, 2005; World Resources, 2005).3 Since the trade liberalization goals of the United States and the environmental and public health concerns of the European Union are both legitimate, pursuing sustainable development and the compromises that it entails is the best solution. After all, the WTO’s mandate includes the broad-ranging aims of sustainable development, calling for “raising standards of living, ensuring full employment and a large and steady growing volume of real income and effective demand . . . while allowing for the optimal use of the world’s resources in accordance with the objective of sustainable development” (Campbell, 2004, p. 54). This paper concludes with some initial proposals for how the transatlantic dispute over GMOs might be resolved in pursuit of sustainable development.

FOCAL POINTS IN THE TRADE AND SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT DEBATE

The relationship between MEAs and the “precautionary principle” on the one hand and international trade law on the other have long been topics on which there has been limited agreement among WTO member states.4 I will describe these particular disputes generally, then discuss how the current U.S.-E.U. conflict over the import of GM crops has brought these tensions to the surface once again. However, I first introduce the forums available at the WTO for such disputes.


The Committee on Trade and Environment and the WTO Dispute Settlement Body

The primary sites in the WTO where member states have battled over the relevance to trade law of MEAs and the precautionary principle have been the Committee on Trade and Environment (CTE) and the WTO Dispute Settlement Body. The CTE was also created at the Uruguay Round, giving trade and environment a formal place on the WTO’s agenda. Within the CTE, representatives of member states discuss and have the power to suggest changes in trade law. However, due to sharp differences among member states, this committee has been unable to agree on policy recommendations.

A major barrier to progress has been the disagreement mentioned earlier between the United States and the European Union on the one hand and developing countries on the other over the extent to which Article XX allows trade restrictions for environmental purposes. More positively, the CTE has been important in strengthening ties between the WTO and the secretariats of MEAs (Vogel, 2004, p. 233). Furthermore, through their persistent critiques of the WTO, environmental groups from the United States and European Union have been able to provoke greater transparency in CTE decision making. For instance, the WTO Secretariat assigned to the CTE was the first to create a section of the WTO website providing relatively timely and detailed reporting of the commission’s deliberations. But as increased transparency also enables other interest groups to better monitor trade matters, including competing business interests, the prospects appear small that this opening of CTE processes will result in any policy recommendations entailing significant changes in trade rules (Shaffer, 2002).

WTO member states have recently called on the CTE to provide a negotiating forum for certain trade and environment issues. It remains to be seen if progress will be made. The Doha Ministerial Declaration of 2001 specifically requested that the CTE conduct negotiations in three areas: the relationship between GATT law and trade-restricting measures called for in MEAs; procedures for information exchange between MEAs and relevant WTO committees; and the reduction of tariff and nontariff barriers to environmental goods and services (WTO Secretariat, 2004, pp. 9-

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10). However, the Doha Declaration does not call upon the CTE to negotiate regarding the relationship between trade law and the “precautionary principle” (Mann & Porter, 2003, p. 36), one of the more controversial issues, which also plays a key role in the transatlantic dispute over GMOs.

Many such controversies pitting environmental and public health goals against trade liberalization, unresolved within the CTE, have entered the dispute settlement process at the WTO. This process is dictated by the Dispute Settlement Understanding, which also forms a part of the Uruguay Round Agreements. Once a member country has submitted a complaint to the Dispute Settlement Body against another for violating international trade law, the parties to the dispute are first obliged to attempt to resolve the dispute by consultations over the course of 60 days. If consultations fail, then the Dispute Settlement Body establishes a three-member panel that decides the case through a quasi-judicial process. Either side in the dispute may appeal the panel’s decision, a step that was not possible under GATT. The Appellate Body (AB) may uphold, modify, or reverse the panel decision. If the Appellate Body finds a party in violation of international trade law, it gives that member 8 to 12 months to comply with the law. If the violating party does not comply, the disputing parties then attempt to negotiate compensation. If those negotiations fail, the party that prevailed at the appellate level may ask the Dispute Settlement Body to determine the trade sanctions it may impose on the losing party (UNEP & IISD, 2000, pp. 32-33). As this process is a lengthy and time-consuming one, most trade disputes have been resolved through negotiation. As a result, of the 315 disputes brought to the WTO’s attention, only seven have reached the stage where the WTO authorized retaliatory penalties (Alden & Minder, 2004).

Multilateral Environmental Agreements (MEAs) It is not apparent how the Dispute Settlement Body will handle

alleged conflicts between trade-restricting measures in MEAs and trade law. Indeed, the dispute settlement system has indirectly addressed and even used MEAs. In the first case that the new system handled after its creation, the Dispute Settlement Body determined that the new Dispute Settlement Understanding “reflects a measure


of recognition that the General Agreement is not to be interpreted in clinical isolation from public international law.” Later in the shrimp/turtle case, in which the United States had blocked shrimp imports because they were harvested in a way that harmed endangered sea turtles, the scope for considering nontrade international law in matters of trade law was expanded. Specifically, the AB turned to five MEAs in determining the meaning of “exhaustible natural resources,” a phrase in trade law that was key in determining if the U.S. policy was permissible (Mann & Porter, 2003, pp. 22-23). Yet no case has yet been brought before the WTO Dispute Settlement Body openly setting international trade law against language in an MEA. But because trade liberalization proceeds, MEAs continue to proliferate. Several international environmental agreements already allow for major restrictions on trade. In fact, of the approximately 200 MEAs in 2004, 20 contained trade provisions (Vogel, 2004, p. 239). Thus, such a dispute could emerge at any time.

Trade-restricting provisions in MEAs vary in whether they are relevant only to the parties to the agreement in question or whether they are also applicable to products and/or to the process by which a product was developed. In the latter case, they are referred to as “process and production measures.” For instance, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (1975) bans international trade in an agreed list of endangered species. The Montreal Protocol (1987) bans all trade between both parties and nonparties to the protocol in a list of ozone-depleting substances, and it also contemplates allowing import bans on products fabricated through the use of ozone-depleting substances. Under the Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movement of Hazardous Wastes and their Disposal (1989), parties may export hazardous waste to another only if the latter consents in writing to receive it. Parties may not import hazardous waste from or export it to a nonparty. Also potentially a source of conflict, the Rotterdam Convention on the Prior Informed Consent Procedure for Certain Hazardous Chemicals and Pesticides in International Trade (2004) allows parties to ban imports of chemicals and pesticides from the convention’s agreed list. When importation of listed substances is allowed, they must be labeled (UNEP & IISD, 2000, pp. 16-17).

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However, the MEA with the greatest relevance to the transatlantic dispute regarding GMOs is the Cartagena Protocol on Biosafety (2000). Article 2 of this protocol declares: “The Parties shall ensure that the development, handling, transport, use, transfer and release of any living modified organisms are undertaken in a manner that prevents or reduces the risks to biological diversity, taking also into account risks to human health” (Convention, 2005). “Living modified organism,” a type of GMO, is defined in Article 3 as “any living organism that possesses a novel combination of genetic material obtained through the use of modern biotechnology” (Convention, 2005). The GM crops at issue in the controversy between the United States and Europe are this form of GMO. In pursuit of the goals outlined above, Articles 10 and 15 explain that parties to the agreement may restrict and even ban imports of living modified organisms, based on the findings of a legitimate risk assessment procedure (Convention, 2005). Might these provisions justify a moratorium by the European Union? As I discuss below, it is unclear how the WTO Dispute Settlement Body might address these issues in the transatlantic dispute over trade in GMOs, due to ambiguity in how the Cartagena Protocol deals with scientific evidence, as well as questions about the fact that the United States is not a party to this protocol.

The Precautionary Principle Broadly speaking, the precautionary principle calls for taking

cautionary measures when scientific data regarding risks are limited but when grave dangers are possible. While exercising this principle during trade might avert an ecological or public health catastrophe, it could also be abused for protectionist purposes. Further complicating matters, in Europe the precautionary principle is understood to require less scientific evidence than is the case in the United States.

It is not clear whether the European or U.S. conception of the precautionary principle is more acceptable under the Cartagena Protocol. Article 10 of this accord declares that “lack of scientific certainty due to insufficient relevant scientific information and knowledge regarding the extent of the potential adverse effects of a living modified organism” will not prevent a party to the protocol from restricting imports of the GMO in question, including


prohibiting imports (Convention, 2005). Most observers agree that this language at least reduces the scientific evidence needed to justify blocking imports of live GMOs (Vogel, 2004, p. 241).

The relationship of the precautionary principle to another relevant component of international law is less murky. The WTO case European Community (EC)—Measures Concerning Meat and Meat Products (Hormones) helped to clarify this relationship. After scandals in Europe involving the use of illegal growth hormones, the European Union in 1988 completely banned the use of such hormones, blocking imports of beef produced through their use. In response, in 1996 the United States and Canada each challenged the policy at the WTO, claiming violation of the Sanitary and Phytosanitary (SPS) Agreement, which forms part of the international trade regime (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 66).

The SPS Agreement describes the circumstances under which members of the WTO may restrict trade through measures aimed at protecting human, animal, or plant life or health. Article 2(2) explains that such measures may be applied only to the extent necessary to protect life or health, must be based on scientific principles, and cannot be maintained without sufficient scientific evidence. Also relevant to Hormones, Article 3(1) calls on member states to base their restrictive measures on relevant international recommendations, guidelines, and standards. Annex 3, 3(a) elaborates that, in the case of food safety, such standards, guidelines, and recommendations are those established by the Codex Alimentarius Commission (WTO, 2005a). The codex is a joint commission of the Food and Agriculture Organization and the World Health Organization, with recognized scientific expertise in the area of food safety.

In spite of these provisions, the European Union argued that it had a right to ban certain beef imports based on the precautionary principle, which is a principle of international law (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 68). Rather than presenting scientific evidence to justify its ban, the European Union contended that consumption of hormones might lead to serious public health problems and that, until research could better determine the degree of risk, beef produced through the use of growth hormones should be banned.

In spite of this argument, in 1998 the Appellate Body, based on language in the SPS Agreement, found the European Union in

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violation. The Codex Alimentarius had developed standards for five of the six hormones at issue in the case, specifying maximum levels of hormone residues that were safe. The European Union had no scientific evidence indicating that these standards were insufficient and therefore that its ban was necessary. When the European Union refused to lift its ban despite this decision, the WTO authorized the United States to retaliate by raising tariffs to a maximum amount of US$116.8 million per year and authorizing Canada to raise tariffs to a maximum of CDN$11.3 million per year (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 67). The European Union has maintained its ban and, in fact, reinforced it with new legislation after producing fresh research linking hormones to cancer (Alden & Minder, 2004).

What is the relevance of Hormones and the Cartagena Protocol to the U.S.-E.U. dispute over GMOs? Hormones and the current GMO dispute are similar in that they both involve product-based restrictions aimed at protecting human health. Both also involve European invocation of the precautionary principle. But while the European Union banned beef produced with hormones, it claims to have taken only temporary measures against the import of GMOs. Furthermore, the Cartegena Protocol on Biosafety adds another dimension that was not present during Hormones.

THE TRANSATLANTIC DISPUTE OVER GENETICALLY MODIFIED ORGANISMS

The Disputed Policy and the Stakes In 1998, the European Commission stopped approving new GM

seeds for planting in Europe. However, it allowed the continued use of 18 GM products already in circulation. GM crops were not approved again until September 2004, when the commission allowed the use of 17 seed strains engineered by Monsanto (“Organic Farming,” 2005). In April 2004, the European Union also passed new regulations mandating the labeling of GM food and food products. The U.S. government contended that the European Union had placed a moratorium on the approval of new GM crop imports, which was a violation of the SPS Agreement. As a result, in May 2003 the Bush administration, Argentina, and Canada initiated a challenge in the WTO to the alleged moratorium (Mayer & Grove-


White, 2005; Purvis, 2004, pp. 67, 71).5 The complaint has been maintained despite the fact that, in September 2004, the European Union began approving GM crop imports again.

Much is potentially at stake in EC-Measures Affecting the Approval and Marketing of Biotech Products (Biotech Products)--economically, politically, and environmentally, and in terms of public health. In sum, GM crops hold much potential, but they may also pose environmental and public health risks. Corn and soybeans have been bioengineered to be more resistant to disease, drought, and pests. Such innovations may raise farm yields, lower food prices, reduce pesticide use, and improve nutrition (Purvis, 2004, p. 68). Furthermore, “Golden Rice” has been modified to produce beta-carotene, which the human body converts into vitamin A. Vitamin A deficiency is a major cause of blindness in developing countries (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 69). Thus, used effectively, GM crops may simultaneously support various goals of sustainable development.

At the same time, the scientific evidence is unclear regarding potential environmental consequences of cultivating GM crops, and even less is known about how consuming GMOs might affect human health. Regarding “biosafety” concerns, it is feared that GM crops might crowd out other plants and cross-breed in an area, disrupting local ecosystems (Purvis, 2004, p. 68). Concerning public health, the WHO is worried about the potential for gene transfer from GM plants to microbial or mammalian cells, as well as allergenic effects on people (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 70).

The Domestic and Regional Political Context Helping to lead to this dispute over GM crop imports is the fact

that the United States and Europe use and manage GMOs quite differently. The more lenient regulation of GMOs in the United States, together with the political power of biotechnology companies, helps to explain why the U.S. government would go to the trouble of bringing a claim at the WTO against the European Union for allegedly placing a moratorium on the approval of new GM crop imports. The United States remains the biggest user of GM technology; it planted 47.6 million hectares of GM crops in 2004 (Harvey, 2005).

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Facilitating this large-scale use, the laws and agencies regulating the production and consumption of GMOs form a lenient and fragmented system. Regulatory responsibility is dispersed among the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), and the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). For instance, the EPA registers crops that have been genetically engineered to produce toxins that kill pests, and it also registers GM pesticides (e.g., a fungus to be sprayed that has been genetically engineered to kill pests). However, the USDA has responsibility for crops that have been genetically modified to be resistant to herbicides. Further fragmenting control, the EPA is responsible for determining the amount of pesticide residues allowed on foods, but the FDA is required to enforce these “tolerances.” Significantly, the EPA has established “tolerance exemptions” for registered GM microbial pesticides and plants modified to produce toxins, contending that its scientific research has determined that these products are safe for human health (EPA, 2003).

Contributing to the existence of a disorganized and lenient system in the United States is low public concern about GMOs. In fact, in general U.S. citizens are less skeptical of technological change than their European counterparts (Esty, 2003, p. 373). Furthermore, biotechnology companies, preferring a less burdensome regulatory system, exercise considerable political power in the United States. U.S. biotechnology firms account for approximately 70% of global revenues in this industry (Purvis, 2004, p. 71), no doubt making their policy preferences a priority for U.S. government leaders.

Furthermore, the regulation of GMOs forms a part of a larger trend in the United States. Since the early 1990s, the rate at which the United States has strengthened or expanded the scope of its environmental standards has significantly declined. For instance, the United States used to be more aggressive in pushing for progress in integrating environmental concerns into trade law. Going far beyond the WTO, the North American Free Trade Agreement, approved by Congress in 1993, included environmental provisions as well as a Supplementary Agreement on the Environment. However, the administration of George W. Bush, while acknowledging that trade policies should improve environmental quality, initially opposed any formal linkages between the two. U.S. Trade Representative Robert


Zoellick went so far as to explicitly characterize the trade and environment agenda as protectionist (Kelemen, 2004; Vogel, 2004, pp. 235-36, 249).

In contrast, the European Union is characterized by a trend toward greater environmental and public health regulation on domestic, regional, and international levels (Kelemen, 2004).6 The European Union stopped approving GM crop imports in the context of intensifying concern about the uncertainty of these products’ possible harmful effects. These worries ultimately spurred major action when, at a meeting of the E.U. Council of Environmental Ministers in June 1999, France, Denmark, Greece, Italy, and Luxembourg stated that they would block new GM crop approvals until a new “deliberate release directive” was developed and new legislation was passed enacting labeling and traceability requirements for GMOs. The result was the alleged moratorium on GM crop approvals. The new E.U. Deliberate Release Directive went into effect in October 2002, for the first time requiring consideration of the indirect effects of GMOs, post-market monitoring, and a 10-year limit on approvals. The new E.U. regulations on traceability and labeling for GMOs and GMO-derived products went into effect in April 2004 (Winickoff et al., 2005, p. 88). As explained earlier, five months later, in September 2004, the European Union once again began to approve GM imports. Various factors, but primarily public opinion, prompted European leaders to take a highly precautionary approach and not approve new GM crops for several years.

In Europe, a majority of citizens oppose all uses of agricultural biotechnology (Purvis, 2004, p. 71). In some cases, public opinion is intense. In the United Kingdom, for example, the Food Standards Agency established in 2000 in the wake of the bovine spongiform encephalopathy crisis has been sharply criticized by environmentalists for what appears to be a science-based position on GM food. The chairman of the agency explained, “We have said we are neither pro nor anti-GM. . . . We will look impartially at the evidence in relation to food safety and assess each case using the best available science, and we will support clear labeling of GM food so that people can choose. . . . That to me is a neutral stance” (Maitland, 2005).

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Highly active environmental nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and widely publicized GMO scandals have spurred large-scale and intense public opposition to biotechnology in agriculture and food. Greenpeace in particular has been active in organizing protests across Europe and beyond to draw public attention to alleged health and environmental dangers.7 Fueling the fire was the so-called “Frankenstein Foods” scare of 1999. A television program interviewed a scientist, under contract to Monsanto to conduct research on rats fed with GM potatoes. He claimed that the rats’ organs were stunted and their immune systems compromised, adding that he personally would never eat GM food. When a journalist noted that several brands of baby foods contained GM ingredients, a major product recall followed. By the time Britain’s Royal Society harshly discredited the scientist-informant’s research, public opinion had already been damaged beyond immediate repair (“Organic Farming,” 2005).

Party politics have also facilitated stricter regulation of GMOs in Europe. Green parties have not only been powerful at the domestic level, especially in France and Germany, but have asserted themselves during major E.U. decision-making.8 And as in the case of the United States, European handling of GM products is part of a larger regulatory pattern. The European Union has recently adopted a number of standards that are stricter or broader than their American counterparts. Accordingly, the European Union is insisting that WTO rules be modified so that its standards can be defended more easily against trade challenges. Among E.U. policies not found in the United States are bans on beef and dairy hormones, prohibitions on the use of antibiotics in animal feed, bans on the use of leghold traps in hunting, recycling requirements for cars, computers, and phones, ecolabeling requirements, and of course restrictions on GM seeds and food.

Also in contrast to the United States, the European Union wants WTO law modified to make it clearer that MEAs must be respected. The European Union has been concerned about the possibility that, under current trade law, a country that belonged to the WTO but had not signed a MEA could legally challenge trade restrictions permitted by the MEA. Additionally, the European Union advocates modifying international trade law to clarify the acceptance of the precautionary principle (Vogel, 2004, pp. 239, 241, 242, 250).


Dispute Settlement at the WTO These very different political, social, and economic contexts

have led the United States and the European Union to clash over the regulation of trade in GMOs, and it is difficult to predict how this dispute will be decided at the WTO. The only food safety dispute to have gone through the entire WTO dispute settlement process is Hormones (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 66). Based only on reference to that case, it appears that an E.U. moratorium would be found in violation of the SPS Agreement since this case indicated that trade restrictions are not allowed without a firm scientific basis and that such trade barriers are allowed only to the extent necessary to protect plant, animal, and human health. Hormones also determined that a “minority scientific opinion” could provide the grounding for trade restrictions under the SPS Agreement (Mann & Porter, 2003, p. 30). However, in Biotech Products the European Union has not demonstrated scientific evidence of public health risks (Purvis, 2004, p. 69). Thus, the European Union might not possess sufficient scientific data to argue that a “minority scientific opinion” supports a moratorium on accepting GM crops. Furthermore, it would probably be difficult for the European Union to demonstrate that a moratorium is the least trade-restrictive method for managing any human health and biosafety threats.

Helping to distinguish the Biotech Products case from Hormones, however, is the fact that, in the former, the European Union argues that it has taken a provisional measure rather than enacted a definitive ban on GM crops. Specifically, the European Union is now relying upon the “safe harbor” provision in the SPS agreement, which allows for trade restrictions of a provisional and precautionary nature when scientific evidence is “insufficient.” The United States counters that the European Union has enacted a moratorium that restricts trade in an unacceptable manner, because it entails “unreasonable” or “undue delay,” considering the scientific evidence pointing toward a lack of danger from GM seeds (Winickoff et al., 2005, p. 83). It appears that, while a precautionary approach based on inconclusive scientific evidence is not allowed in the case of a ban on imports, such an approach is more acceptable in the case of a temporary measure that restricts trade. Thus, if it is determined that the E.U. decision making that has led to a stoppage

98 Michael Miller

in GM crop approvals indeed entails a provisional policy, the WTO might find this measure permissible.

It is also uncertain how the WTO will handle rights under the Cartagena Protocol, which grants parties the ability to restrict imports of GM seeds for the purpose of protecting plant, animal, and human health, seemingly with limited scientific justification. Will it be determined that this protocol incorporates the precautionary principle (as it is understood by the European Union) into the body of international law, thus justifying an E.U. moratorium on the import of new GM crops? The European Union could indeed invoke this MEA as evidence of a strong international consensus in favor of its restrictive policy, based on the large number of countries that have ratified it (Vogel, 2004, p. 240). As of 2004, 107 countries were party to the Cartagena Protocol, and the United States was the sole major party not participating (Purvis, 2004, p. 69). However, no one knows if the European Union could justify restrictions on U.S. products by citing this protocol when the United States is not a party.9

Making it even more difficult to predict how Biotech Products will be viewed at the WTO is a lack of clarity on the exact nature of the European Union’s current arguments. While it is clear that Europe has in the past argued that its lack of approval of new GM crops was justified as a provisional and precautionary measure under the SPS Agreement, some observers claim that the European Union has now put forward a new argument. According to researchers at Gene Watch in the United Kingdom, the European Union has apparently shifted its defense to suggest a direct link with its reinitiation of GM approvals in 2004. The European Commission has been unwilling to publish its recent submissions to the WTO dispute panel; but it is clear from the U.S. response, which has been made public, that the commission now wants the dispute to be ruled “moot” because it has resumed approvals of GM crop imports (Mayer & Grove-White, 2005).

PURSUING A SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT SOLUTION

If the European Union does continue to defend a moratorium as a temporary and precautionary measure, whether it wins or loses at


the WTO, the same outcome appears likely. As following the defeat in Hormones, the European Union might refuse to change its policy, choosing instead to face sanctions. Because of strong public opinion against agricultural biotechnology and based on the E.U. leaders’ desire to avoid a larger anti-globalization backlash and increase public support for E.U. institutions, the European Union might hold firm.10

But a black and white solution of either maintaining or eliminating a moratorium is inadequate in the pursuit of sustainable development. Finding a fairer and more productive solution will be difficult, not least because no international organization, such as an MEA secretariat or United Nations program or agency has stepped forward to help resolve the U.S.-E.U. disputes over beef-hormones or GMOs (Esty, 2003, p. 376). Nevertheless, one possibility that serves both the United States and Europe as well as goals ranging from economic growth to protection of the environment and public health is for the United States and the European Union to agree to label all GM products. While U.S. biotechnology companies and European environmental activists would surely oppose, there might be enough convergence of public opinion between the United States and the European Union to make such a scheme a political possibility. According to polls, more than 90% of people in both the United States and the European Union would prefer to know when they are eating GM foods. Furthermore, two-thirds of the U.S. public support the right of the European Union to require labeling (Purvis, 2004, p. 71). In line with the aims of sustainable development, labeling would allow for freer trade in GM products while also providing more information to consumers that they could use in protecting their health and seeking environmental stewardship.

In the hopes of a sustainable development solution, the United States and the European Union might also use food safety standards developed by the Codex Alimentarius as the basis for domestic GMO regulation. This measure should assure more harmonious and more scientifically appropriate policies. As the codex draws from the FAO and WHO, both of which are well respected scientifically, this option might be feasible. It should further increase credibility that the codex has been working on standards for foods derived from biotechnology since 1999 (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 70).

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Another option for developing effective and agreed-upon science and standards would be to improve linkages between domestic institutions in the United States and the European Union, such as national academies of sciences or the FDA in the United States and the new Food Safety Agency in the European Union (Purvis, 2004, pp. 72-73).

An additional benefit of an agreement between the United States and the European Union on common GMO standards is that such an accord would present a model for other countries on how to regulate food safety more effectively during trade. Global harmonization of food safety standards would lower transaction costs of firms associated with navigating various countries’ safety standards. That, in turn, might most benefit developing countries reliant on agriculture. In support, World Bank research found that adopting an international standard based on Codex Alimentarius guidelines for a toxin sometimes found on cereal and nuts would increase exports from 31 countries (21 of them developing) by 51% from 1998 levels. This study further found that harmonization at a level more stringent than codex standards would severely hurt exports from developing countries (Wilson & Otsuki, 2001).

It is also necessary to increase discussion of GMOs within the World Trade Organization. In 2002, the WHO complained that GMO health and safety aspects had received little WTO attention. The most detailed attention to the subject had appeared in the Technical Barriers to Trade Committee, where the GMO labeling requirements of some member countries were under scrutiny (WHO & WTO, 2002, p. 131). Such increased discussion should be accompanied by increased participation by civil society, particularly by NGOs. Granting NGOs greater access would let them help the small WTO staff in Geneva in working through technical information. It would also allow voices to be heard in this international forum that might be suppressed or lost in the noise at the national or regional level (Esty, 2002, pp. 121-3).11


NOTES

1. Later, in November 2001, the Ministerial Conference in Doha, Qatar, made greater progress on trade and environment issues. For instance, the ministers agreed to launch negotiations to clarify the relationship between international trade law and international environmental regimes (WTO, 2005b).

2. In fact, U.S. efforts to unilaterally employ trade restrictions to impose its domestic environmental policies on other countries have been the most important source of trade conflict between that country and its trading partners (Vogel, 2004, p. 243). For instance, the United States blocked tuna and shrimp imports because they were harvested in a manner that violated U.S. environmental law.

3. For instance, economic growth supports environmental protection and public health by allowing governments to better afford implementation of environmental and health policies. And even policies that are aimed at economic growth may also have positive environmental implications. An example is how eliminating subsidies not only allows economic markets to operate more efficiently but also benefits the environment. A GATT Secretariat report concluded that eliminating the distortion caused by agricultural subsidies would shift agricultural production from higher-cost, pesticide-intensive European agriculture to lower-cost, manure-using agriculture in poor countries (Cited in Bhagwati, 2004, pp. 138, 144).

4. In general, the precautionary principle calls for taking cautionary measures when scientific data on risks are limited but when grave dangers are possible.

5. Additionally, it was complained that E.U. member states maintained national marketing and import bans on biotech products that had previously been approved by the European Union for import and marketing (Winickoff et al., 2005, p. 89).

6. To be sure, the domestic use and regulation of GMOs varies in Europe. For instance, Spain is the only E.U. country which has planted a sizable amount of GM crops, planting 100,000 hectares of GM maize in 2004 (Harvey, 2005).

102 Michael Miller

7. For instance, police recently removed Greenpeace activists

from the entrance of the Polish prime minister’s office. They were protesting Poland’s allowing imports of GM maize (AP Worldstream, 2005a). And when Greenpeace recently failed to achieve a temporary ban on growing GM maize in the Czech Republic, it warned that, because that country lacks a monitoring plan to assess the environmental impact of GM crops, there is no guarantee that their cultivation will not endanger the environment (BBC Monitoring Service, 2005). Outside Europe, Greenpeace seems to have been just as active. When the Indian government approved six varieties of BT cotton seeds developed by Monsanto in March 2005, Greenpeace criticized the move, claiming that BT cotton crops have failed, plunging farmers into financial problems (AP Worldstream, 2005c). When Brazil’s lower legislative chamber voted by a large majority to lift a ban on GM seeds, Greenpeace warned that GM crops would harm the environment (AP Worldstream, 2005b).

8. In fact, the powerful roles played by Green Party leaders during the negotiations on the Kyoto Protocol appear to have contributed to the lack of an agreement between the United States and the European Union. Dominque Voynet, France’s Environment Minister and a Green Party member, and Germany’s Green Environment Minister, Jürgen Trittin, led E.U. negotiations. These two individuals took a harder line than would probably have been the case if they had better coordinated the European position with other ministries and with the E.U. Directorates General (Esty, 2003, p. 374).

9. The Doha Ministerial Declaration called upon the Committee on Trade and Environment to negotiate on the relationship between international trade rules and trade obligations within MEAs but also required that the negotiations be limited in scope to the applicability of trade law when it comes to parties to MEAs (WTO Secretariat, 2004, p. 10). Thus, the CTE has not negotiated how to handle a case like this one.

10. Then again, the European Commission might decide to avoid the behavior that the United States has identified as a moratorium, considering what appears to be the inevitable spread of GM crops. Last year, developing countries increased the cultivated area devoted


to GM crops by 7.2 million hectares, which exceeded the 6.1 million hectare increase in more developed countries (Harvey, 2005). Furthermore, Monsanto recently bought California-based Seminis, the world’s largest developer of fruit and vegetable seeds. Considering Monsanto’s statement that developing GM vegetables from the Seminis portfolio could be a “longer term” option, it also appears that an increased amount of the crops available worldwide will be GM, making them difficult to avoid (Grant, 2005).

11. The United States has already taken a leadership role in attempting to promote increased transparency and openness at the WTO. As a result of such efforts, the WTO has invited NGOs to participate in conferences and seminars, and the dispute settlement process has become more public, largely through the use of the Internet (Vogel, 2004, pp. 237-238).

REFERENCES Alden, E., & Minder, R. (2004, December 31). Tough decisions ahead on

rules of world trade. Financial Times, p. 4. AP Worldstream. (2005a, February 11). Polish police remove GM food

protesters from prime minister’s office. AP Worldstream. Retrieved on March 7, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

AP Worldstream. (2005b, March 4). Brazilian farmers to benefit from legal genetically modified crops, minister says. AP Worldstream. Retrieved on March 7, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

AP Worldstream. (2005c, March 4). India allows GM cotton in fertile north. AP Worldstream. Retrieved on March 7, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

BBC Monitoring Service. (2005, March 23). Czech activists fail to achieve ban on GM maize. BBC Monitoring Service. Retrieved on March 25, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

Bhagwati, J. (2004). In defense of globalization. New York: Oxford University Press.

Campbell, L. B. (2004). The effectiveness of the WTO and WIPO: Lessons for environmental governance? In N. Kanie & P. Haas (eds.), Emerging forces in environmental governance (pp. 51-67). New York: United Nations University Press.

Convention on Biological Diversity. (2005). Cartagena protocol on biosafety to the convention on biological diversity. Retrieved May 26, 2005, from http://www.biodiv.org/biosafety/protocol.asp.

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EPA. Environmental Protection Agency. (2003). EPA’s regulation of bio-

technology for use in pest management. Retrieved March 15, 2005, from http:// www.epa.gov/pesticides/biopesticides/reg_of_biotech/eparegofbiotech.htm.

Esty, D. C. (2002). Environmental governance at the WTO: Outreach to civil society. In G. P. Sampson & W. B. Chambers (eds.), Trade, environment, and the millennium (2nd ed., pp. 119-144). New York: United Nations University Press.

Esty, D. C. (2003). Strengthening the international environmental regime: A transatlantic perspective. In E.-U. Petersmann & M. A. Pollack (eds.), Transatlantic economic disputes: The EU, the US and the WTO (pp. 371-384). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Grant, J. (2005, January 25). Monsanto buys Seminis in $1.4bn [billion] deal. Financial Times. Retrieved March 15, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

Harvey, F. (2005, January 13). Emerging nations embrace bio-crops. Financial Times. Retrieved March 15, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

International Institute for Sustainable Development. (2005). Retrieved on March 20, 2005, from http://www.iisd.org.

Kelemen, D. (2004). The politics of environmental policy in the United States and the European Union: Coercive federalism? In M. A. Levin & M. Shapiro (eds.), Transatlantic policymaking in an age of austerity: Diversity and drift (pp. 203-223). Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press.

Maitland, A. (2005, February 10). Watchdog need not be a poodle. Financial Times. Retrieved on March 15, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

Mann, H., & Porter, S. (2003). The state of trade and environmental law 2003: Implications for Doha and beyond. Winnipeg, Manitoba: International Institute for Sustainable Development and Center for International Environmental Law.

Mayer, S., & Grove-White, R. (2005, February 22). A bitter harvest. The Guardian. Retrieved on March 15, 2005, from http://www.guardian.com.

Organic farming: A growing threat to the world? (2005, March 16). Irish Independent. Retrieved on March 25, 2005, from http://www.ft.com.

Purvis, N. (2004, Fall). Building a transatlantic biotech partnership. Issues in Science and Technology, pp. 67-74. Retrieved on March 15, 2005, from Brookings Institution website: http://www.brookings.edu/views/ articles/fellows/purvis20041130.htm.

Rosenberg, R. L., & Miller, M. J. (2000). Introduction. In R. L. Rosenberg (ed.), Environmentally sound trade expansion in the Americas: A hemispheric dialogue (pp. 1-20). Coral Gables, FL: University of Miami North-South Center.


Shaffer, G. C. (2002). “If only we were elephants”: The political economy

of the WTO’s treatment of trade and environment matters. In D. Kennedy & J. Southwick (eds.), The political economy of international trade law: Essays in honor of Robert D. Hudec (pp. 349-393). Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press.

UNEP & IISD. United Nations Environment Program & International Institute for Sustainable Development. (2000). Environment and trade: A handbook. Winnipeg, Manitoba: IISD.

Vogel, D. (2004). Trade and the environment in the global economy: Contrasting European and American perspectives. In N. Vig & M. Faure (eds.), Green giants? Environmental policy of the US and EU (pp. 231-252). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Wilson, J. S., & Otsuki, T. (2001). Global trade and food safety: Winners and losers in a fragmented system. Policy Research Working Paper 2689. Washington, DC: World Bank.

Winickoff, D., Jasanoff, S., Busch, L., Grove-White, R., & Wynne, B. (2005). Adjudicating the GM food wars: Science, risk, and democracy in world trade law. Yale Journal of Environmental Law, 30(81), 81-123.

WHO & WTO. World Health Organization & and World Trade Organization Secretariat. (2002). WTO agreements and public health: A joint study by the WHO and WTO secretariat. Geneva, Switzerland: WHO and WTO Secretariat.

World Business Council for Sustainable Development. (2005). Retrieved on March 20, 2005, from http://www.wbcsd.org.

World Resources Institute. (2005). Retrieved on March 20, 2005, from http://www.wri.org.

World Trade Organization Secretariat. (2004). Trade and environment at the WTO: Background document. Geneva, Switzerland: Author.

WTO. World Trade Organization. (2005a). Agreement on the application of sanitary and phytosanitary measures. Retrieved May 26, 2005, from http://www.wto.org/english/docs_e/legal_e/legal_e.htm#sanitary.

WTO. World Trade Organization. (2005b). The negotiations on trade and environment. Retrieved May 26, 2005, from http://www.wto.org/ english/tratop_e/envir_e/envir_negotiations_e.htm.

10 Part III: Grassroots Movements

6 6 6 Sustainable Community for Sustainable Development: “Mujeres Reunidas” and the Hñähñu of Hidalgo, Mexico1 Ella Schmidt

“We should not be seduced into believing that globalization has a uniform impact everywhere. To do so would be to fall into the same trap as previous attempts at theoretization, namely that of formulating a general (or universal) theory that seeks to identify certain ‘driving forces’ (e.g., the ‘laws’ of capitalist development or the imperatives of modern bureaucratic organization), ‘prime movers’ (e.g., technological or economic factors) or ‘cultural facilitators’ (e.g., religious asceticism or entrepreneurial rationalities) of change.” (Long, 1996, p. 3)

A quick visit through the Andean region of Peru reveals a

history of an inordinate number of development projects that did not work. These modern archeological remains are prime examples of development efforts by well-intentioned bureaucrats who had differing notions about why poor nations—usually ex-colonies—lacked the “sophistication” of the first world. Indeed, many lacked markets, industrial production, and political stability, elements that were supposed to allow these poor nations to share in the benefits of maximizing efficiency, “rationality,” and individualistic values. Most development efforts have been unidirectional, with developing

110 Ella Schmidt agencies and banks representing the “first world” and fostering projects that replicated the same unidirectional movement—from the more powerful to the less—that for centuries has been the norm (Hobart, 1993; Sillitoe, 2002).

For more than half a century the efforts of unidirectional institutions and programs to impose “progress” and “modernization,” based on assumptions of cultural limitations, isolation and/or marginalization, have had competition. Traditional communities in third-world countries have been articulating their own definitions of well-being and progress that include sustainability. Helped by remittances from community members abroad and based on centuries-old concepts of community, civic responsibility, and participatory sustainability, traditional indigenous communities in Mexico are defining concepts of inclusive development that benefit active members of the community.

The local, global, and transnational nature of these communal efforts are quite remarkable and have finally drawn attention by state entities. Recently the Mexican Government reported that $17 billion were being injected back into the Mexican economy every year by Mexican migrants living abroad (Cardoso & Becerril, 2004). A great proportion of these dollars go directly to family consumption, but many of these “migra-dólares” are utilized in community projects that range from the building of roads and wells to schools and communal enterprises like greenhouses (IME, 2005). Moreover, many projects are positively altering the odds of cultural and material survival for those who choose to stay in their communities rather than emigrate. They are also fundamentally challenging old interpretations of development.

This paper examines a women’s cooperative, “Mujeres Reunidas” (Women Reunited), in the indigenous Mexican community of El Alberto in the Mezquital Valley, Hidalgo, and analyzes the role that communal structures play in facilitating women’s ability to cope with the economic uncertainty brought about by emigration. María Crummett, my co-researcher, and I conducted interviews with women participants in the summer of 2002 as part of a project to investigate transnational connections between the Hñähñu communities in the Valle del Mezquital and the city of Clearwater, Florida, in the United States.

Sustainable Community for Sustainable Development 111

This paper gives a brief historical account of the Hñähñu, one of more than 56 officially recognized indigenous groups in Mexico. The Hñähñu definition of citizenship is based on communal rights and responsibilities that traditionally have included the importance of the environment. This bottom-up understanding of citizenship allows community members to respond to ecological, social, cultural, and historical challenges.

Scholars in the past have emphasized the public role of men, but notions of gender complementarity and reciprocity have been at the heart of communal divisions of labor, decision-making processes, and millennial cosmologies in indigenous communities throughout much of Latin America. Scholars have begun to better understand many of these more complex conceptualizations of gender and community during the last couple of decades. Present long before the colonial conquest and its systematic attempt to destroy their cultural, social, and economic fabric to remake them in the image of Europeans (Hobart, 1993), indigenous communities have shown an extraordinary resilience and flexibility in confronting these challenges. In the modern period, this resilience and flexibility can be observed by focusing on the variety of responses indigenous communities in the Mezquital Valley have developed to deal with problems such as the effects of massive male emigration, mainly to the United States. The paper concludes by stressing the existence of alternative, more inclusive approaches to well-being that not only encompass both people and their environment, but that also challenge the linear, top-down approaches offered by traditional development efforts, such as “sustainable development,” that all too frequently continue to ignore the cultural and social capital of so-called “traditional” societies (Sillitoe et al., 2002). This “ignoring” includes their ability to articulate and negotiate their locality in the midst of global pressures that assume their cultural extinction when confronted with modernizing forces that frequently are presented with the label of “progress” (Long, 1996). After all, as many Latin American elites would have it, an educated Indian is not an Indian anymore (Gould, 1998).

Without trying to ignore the impact of global consumerist forces that the media and, in many instances, the migrants” relatives have on indigenous communities, this paper focuses on the resiliency and plasticity of “traditional’—sometimes perceived as

112 Ella Schmidt static—communal world visions. This paper, then, seeks to illustrate an instance where, through selective appropriation of otherwise “modern” elements (i.e., technology, international marketing, banking), the members of the Mujeres Reunidas cooperative respond to global forces in local ways that allow them to preserve and strengthen communal ties.

THE HÑÄHÑU IN HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE The Hñähñu built the ancient city of Tula while under Toltec

domination and have thus been present in the Mezquital Valley since around 250 B.C. To resist conquest by the Aztecs and Spaniards, among others, the Hñähñu developed a strategy of retreating to the valley’s most arid and desolate areas, hoping to be left alone to a greater degree than if they had struggled to retain possession of better lands. This strategy imposed serious limitations on their participation in the region, however, and promoted their exploitation as cheap and submissive labor by caciques who settled in the area with the aim of concentrating available irrigated land into large landholdings despite the area's relative poverty. The Hñähñu, like many other ethnic minorities, lived in relative isolation from the nation-state, ignored by the great majority of Mexicans for much of the time Mexico has been independent (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004).

In an effort to bring indigenous communities into the twentieth century and integrate them into the Mexican nation-state (Aguirre Beltrán, 1955), the Mexican government created the National Indigenous Institute (INI) in the midst of an indigenista movement that could not decide whether the “indigenous problem” was one of culture or biology. In 1951, the Indigenous Patrimony of the Mezquital Valley (PIVM) was created by presidential decree at the strong recommendation of social scientists and consultants to the presidency like Manuel Gamio, who combined efforts to draw attention to the problems of desolation and abject poverty to which the Hñähñu population had been endemically subjected (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004). These efforts were not free of the contradictions created by clientelist relationships between the Mexican government and the different regional and local factions that could not agree whether indigenous organizations should be autonomous or subject to the interests of central government or local elites (Fox, 1994).


Created to promote the development and economic integration of the valley’s indigenous population, the PIVM fell into the hands of local caciques who owned extensive property holdings in the Mezquital’s highly productive irrigated sections, especially Ixmiquilpan. This situation began to change with the naming of Maurilio Muñoz, a Hñähñu anthropologist, as director of the PIVM in 1970 (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004). His selection apparently resulted from the social malaise expressed by large segments of the Mexican people who were pressing for more local and regional autonomy in decision making and from the Mexican state’s incapacity to control the social mobilization of the 1970s and 1980s (Fox, 1994). Be that as it may, Muñoz's appointment proved critical to the region’s indigenous communities.

In an effort to restore dignity and a sense of agency to the Hñähñu, Muñoz changed their interactions with the PIVM from the paternalist and clientelist transactions that the PIVM representatives had typically imposed to more egalitarian ones that recognized rural communities as active partners in the development process (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004). In addition to supporting the bilingual teacher program that the INI promoted at the national level, Muñoz developed leadership training programs for communal leaders and recognized them as the legitimate representatives of their communities of origin in an effort to support traditional understandings of governance that included the right to negotiate as equals with government representatives and other political agents. These community leaders were, in many instances, rural teachers trained in bilingual rural schools founded by President Lázaro Cárdenas during the 1930s and whose mission it was to promote local indigenous culture and language in their own communities (Baumann, 1975; Kugel, 1996). The social prestige that teachers gained by virtue of their position and their regular transactions with the institutional world helped them to be seen as an indigenous elite who could negotiate between two worlds (Kugel, 1996). These factors might well explain the different results that INI’s impact had on other indigenous populations such as the Mixteca in Oaxaca (Nagengast & Kearney, 1990).

114 Ella Schmidt

MIGRATION, ETHNICITY, AND POVERTY Saskia Sassen (1996), among others, recognizes a connection

between the historical presence of colonial powers and the strategic economic interests of nation-states and the communities of destination in which migrants choose to settle. On the one hand, Sassen among others (Davis, 2000; Massey, 1995; Marcuse 2000) also recognizes the tragic irony between the formal flexibility of international borders vis-à-vis international investment capital and the formal inflexibility of the same borders vis-à-vis the movements of labor. Indeed, the global financial market does not recognize, nor does it normally have, borders, a fact that allows the global financial market to be highly mobile and to maximize gains. This assumed flexibility of financial flows has some researchers scratching their heads and wondering whether the nation-states are not capable of controlling these flows or whether, in fact, nation-states have voluntarily relinquished their power to do so (Marcuse, 2000).

In contrast, the barriers that are formally constructed—at the global level—to prevent the flow of cheap labor remind us of who actually control the centers of power and thus enjoy the status of “citizens of the world” (Ong, 1996) and who are left outside, forced to struggle against the obstacles that nation-states impose on them both in their communities of origin and in their destinations. This double oppression certainly becomes another hurdle that workers of the world are forced to negotiate.

Being able to cross borders successfully is just a small part of their story. In the great majority of cases, as Sassen stated, migrants have historically been part of the metropolis of destination either through colonial or imperial ties. Castles and Davidson wonder whether these migrants, who constitute a “colonized other,” will have a chance to integrate themselves or whether they will be forced to remain an “irreducible other” who are seldom given the opportunity of attaining the socio-economic benefits that will allow them to participate in the political and civic lives of their communities of destination (2000, p. 9). Without the possibility of attaining acceptable socio-economic standards, Castles and Davidson doubt that migrants will ever be able to obtain “citizenship’—understood as the right to a good job or quality education that should translate into better, more acceptable living conditions.


The reality is that many migrants to the United States live in marginal places where democratic institutions that North Americans take for granted like schools, courts, and a good job not only are not present but, if they are, often function in a way that prevents the new arrivals from learning and understanding how to take advantage of them. Thus, migrants are quite frequently informally prevented from understanding and learning what their civic rights and obligations are. The interactions that the great majority of poor migrants have with U.S. institutions are sporadic if not truncated, the marginal spaces they occupy providing few possibilities for engaging in a cultural and social dialogue with mainstream U.S. values, except for brief interactions based on consumption (Schmidt, 2000).

These realities, however, are not new for the great majority of migrants who frequently are forced to leave their communities of origin, fleeing poverty, violence, the lack of hope, and sometimes even political persecution, among many other reasons. To ask whether migrants will acculturate or socially integrate into the communities of destination, though an important question, ignores whether these migrants were actually taken into account by the state and dominant culture in their countries of origin. Their marginality in the United States is on the same continuum of marginality that they occupied in their countries of origin.

The majority of migrants who settle in the United States, especially rural laborers, belong to poor, indigenous, and rural populations in Latin America. As such, they were also ignored and excluded from the national conversation, if it even existed, in their homelands. Due to issues of race, ethnicity, class, and location, they were commonly, some might say systematically, ignored and their political access to the centralized Latin American states was frequently denied. The absence of these important elements prevented them from accessing better living conditions. Thus, at the level of the nation-state, of cultural and political belonging, the fact that the U.S. government largely ignores them (even though the risk for undocumented workers is obvious) simply adds to the experience and understanding of the nation-state that they have had as marginal populations in their countries of origin. To be poor and indigenous in many Latin American countries is to have been deprived of civil rights and access to the means and resources to become a full citizen. In many instances, their identities have been either emptied or

116 Ella Schmidt essentialized to be better used in the perpetuation of a rhetoric that denies them the right to participate in the national arena, making them invisible because they do not fit definitions of citizenship imposed both by local and national elites and by many who are certainly better off but equally certainly not elites.

For the great majority of indigenous populations in Latin America, land and identity are mutually defined (e.g., Allen, 1988; Bastien, 1978; Isbell, 1978; Orlove, 1993); and for centuries, they have fought efforts to privatize it. Modernization efforts in much of Latin America, through privatization of land, have finally attained what centuries of colonial rule were not able to accomplish: the forced transformation of indigenous peoples—usually at the outskirts of central powers—into citizens of nations as peasants or cheap labor (Frye, 1996; Gould, 1998). Mexico and the alteration of Article 27 of its constitution to comply with NAFTA is a prime example. However, many of the indigenous peoples in Chiapas for instance have rejected “top-down” modernization even more vigorously when confronted with state-sponsored and internationally driven efforts.

Interestingly, this “transformation” has sometimes been coupled with a national discourse developed by urban elites eager to be seen as modern, as in the case described and analyzed by Jeffrey Gould (1998) based on an urban ideal that maintains that education will transform the Indian into a “civilized” mestizo. In both instances, indigenous populations have seen their identities changed through a classist or racist discourse imposed from the top, and this regardless of how well they were able to manipulate the legal system and political alliances in the distant and recent past (Frye, 1996; Stavig, 1999).

The Hñähñu, however, offer us a dramatic illustration of the development of a notion of citizenship that has been defined outside the legal and territorial definitions of nation-states that oppress and control their subjects. This different definition allows us to understand citizenship as the ability to act, defy, and overcome natural, political, economic, and cultural challenges imposed on a people, be it by birth or circumstance (Bobbio, quoted by Castles and Davidson, 2000, p. 26). This different understanding of citizenship allows individuals to be understood as agents—not just victims—of their circumstances, actors who respond to the challenges imposed by their historical, social and natural contexts. This definition allows


them to understand “citizenship as empowerment and dominance over a threatening context [that] rests on a primacy accorded to human reasoning capacity” (Castles & Davidson, 2000, p. 27).

Castles and Davidson (2000) recognize that there are at least two basic citizenship traditions: an elitist one that is legalistic and which denies recognition of popular wisdom, and another one that is based on communal civic belonging and popular wisdom. This citizenship from below is probably the only model that can effectively create situations that include the largest number of people willing to participate in the resolution of a variety of challenges (natural, social, or cultural) and who understand the obligations and rights that their participation bestows on them. The Hñähñu are a prime example of a citizenship constructed from below: a citizenship that has guaranteed for centuries the relative well-being of community members as long as they comply with their communal/civic obligations.

HÑÄHÑU CITIZENSHIP Dismissed by some scholars and members of the Mexican elite

as having been invented by the federal government’s National Indigenous Institute, the Hñähñu illustrate a powerful instance of reappropriation of cultural symbols (Dening, 1986) and social and cultural space. Unlike the Mixteca of Oaxaca, the indigenous identity of the Hñähñu was created in situ and is not necessarily the product of migration and discrimination found in their host communities (Nagengast & Kearney, 1989). Their history—rich with struggles for cultural, social, and economic advancement dating back to pre-colonial times—serves as the context for the ways in which migrants from Ixmiquilpan, one of the primary cities of origin of Hñähñu migration, negotiate their social and economic environment in the United States and Mexico (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004).

The Hñähñu Supreme Council, a civic and political organization supported by the Hñähñu in Mexico with its counterpart in the United States, the Consejo Mexicano de la Bahía de Tampa (Mexican Council of the Tampa Bay Area), is one of the few supreme councils that continues to be active. Based on interviews that María Crummett and I conducted in 2002, we learned that the council’s leadership role among Hñähñu migrants fostered the

118 Ella Schmidt creation of the Office in Support of the Hidalgo Community in Their Home State and Abroad (Coordinación General de Apoyo al Hidalguense en el Estado y el Extranjero), an office that supports many of the political and cultural events happening in Clearwater. Even though with an obvious political interest in maintaining their presence among the migrant communities in the United States, the Office in Support of the Hidalgo Community in Their Home State and Abroad has also been crucial in sponsoring dancers, traditional crafts, and Mexican teachers for cultural festivals and summer educational programs in Clearwater (Schmidt & Crummett, 2004).

At the same time, the Hñähñu culture, centered around the family and collective responsibility, has been at the forefront of channeling migrant remittances into community development (Bada, 2003; Goldring, 1998). Based on data we collected in Clearwater, the Hñähñu send back between $2 and $4 million a month to families in the Valle del Mezquital. Indeed, the Hñähñu code of ethics, based on defining the individual as a citizen of his or her community, is strongly associated with the active participation of each community member in community projects and community issues. Citizenship is contingent on participation in and fulfillment of community responsibilities and is defined by its social, not individual, character.

While Crummett and I conducted fieldwork in the Valle del Mezquital, community members unanimously expressed the importance of complying with the requirements that being a ciudadano (citizen) entails. Interestingly, this information contrasts sharply with information gathered by Galinier (1997) in the highlands of the Sierra Madre Oriental northeast of Tulancingo, indicating the disappearance of traditional communal structures and practices in that area.

In the communities we visited, every male becomes a “citizen” at age eighteen. This status, however, is not automatic and can be revoked if the “citizen” does not comply with the obligations required to maintain and develop the community infrastructure (i.e., schools, roads, sewer system, drinking water), to become a community officer, or to participate in assembly meetings or committees created to solve specific problems that the community might be experiencing. (For another case, this time on Oaxaca, see Mutersbaugh, 2002). Very often, members serving on community committees must travel to discuss particular issues with regional


authorities. It is expected, moreover, that each member will assume the financial burdens that such activities entail (i.e., transportation, accommodations). These members are, however, accumulating political and social capital that they will be able to “spend” on an individual basis whenever they deem necessary. It is also clear that these members are sacrificing significant personal resources, as well as investing their time and effort, to benefit the whole community. It is also true that social and sometimes material sanctions await those who refuse to participate and contribute to these community requirements, especially if they have emigrated but continue to have relatives living in the community who might need the support and attention of other community members.

The faenas, or civic responsibilities, require each community member’s commitment whether in labor or in kind. At this time, migration does not seem to have undercut community service traditions at the level Mutersbaugh (2002) reports for the village of Santa Cruz in Oaxaca. However, distance—both at the social and geographical level—might eventually erode the commitment shown so far by first-generation migrants. Those who have emigrated are required to find a replacement for their assigned community tasks—usually a relative—or to send the necessary funds to hire a laborer for the particular faena (i.e., work on the municipal building, digging irrigation canals, paving roads).

In our visits in the Mezquital Valley with community members in Orizabita, for example, they informed us that the Community Board tracked the participation of all the members very closely. They also shared the case of one of their community members who, having emigrated to the United States several years ago, owed the community the equivalent of a couple thousand dollars in past contributions. This particular member had to negotiate his debt before he was again considered an active member of the community.

Moreover, members who are elected to serve as community officials (i.e., community president, secretary, or treasurer) are expected to go back and fulfill their positions regardless of whether they are working outside of the community (the United States included). This is an extraordinary communal commitment from those who have left their communities in search for jobs, as they must return home and officially work for the community without any expectation of being compensated for their work or time. During the

120 Ella Schmidt time we were conducting interviews in El Alberto, the community president had returned from the United States to fulfill his obligation. Many times, however, such returning is not possible. In the community of Gundhó, for instance, the person serving as president was filling in for his brother who could not come back from the United States as expected.

The Hñähñu definition of citizenship thus includes a very strong communal commitment defined by, among other elements, the active participation in community projects—faenas—and community administrative positions. Such a communal definition is a common feature in many indigenous communities throughout Latin America that reinforces a sense of communal belonging and that has very little to do with legal normative definitions of citizenship based on rights defined within the territories of nation-states (Benhabib, 1999; Castles, 2000; Castles & Davidson, 2000; Painter & Philo, 1995; Purcell, 2003; Yuval-Davis, 1999). If we take into consideration what Castles and Davidson (2000) indicate in relation to a definition of citizenship that gives power to the masses so that they can take action to resolve social, natural, or cultural challenges on their own, the fact that the Hñähñu—and other indigenous communities in Latin America—have developed this type of understanding of citizenship should not surprise us. Marginalized, if not oppressed, by regional and national elites in power, indigenous communities in Latin America have promoted and reinforced traditional communal structures built in response to ecological challenges long before challenges brought by conquest and colonialism. (For an insightful illustration of a case in point see Murra, 1975.) This history has not only encouraged a sense of communal responsibility and commitment but has also allowed citizens to share their local knowledge. This “heritage of practical everyday life” (Sillitoe, 2002) includes their ancestral knowledge of their environment—both social and material—and their negotiations with the members of their communities and the broader regional, national, and, of late, global contexts.

Once under the yoke of conquest or neocolonialism, indigenous communities in Latin America have reinforced their traditional communal structures in an effort to counteract attacks on their ways of life, ideology, and culture by external powers. (For a thorough account of how indigenous populations incorporated colonial


requirements into their traditional community offices and cargos, see Stavig, 1999). I emphasize that these strategies are communal in character. It would have been practically impossible to survive on an individual basis, even a precarious one. Continuing to reinforce and promote the citizenship status of community members who fulfill their communal obligations allows them not only to perpetuate their communal structures, but also to present themselves to regional or national political authorities as a solid front.

It especially allows them to survive as a group and maintain their indigenous identity. Without the communal commitment, the Hñähñu would have become yet another marginalized group of people with few realistic possibilities of alleviating their plight or improving their material conditions. This solidarity has also forced others to see them as a political force. The Hñähñu’s interpretation of citizenship has made clear to them the benefits that their political activism can bring. Several Hñähñu from the Valle del Mezquital area have been elected to city, state and federal political positions.2 This strategic positioning has allowed them to advance legislative agendas at both the state and federal level. Consequently, though a small group, the Hñähñu have become a presence to reckon with. Their own views of citizenship have created an entry point by which they can become citizens of their nation of origin as well. Ironically, many Hñähñu had to leave their country of birth to achieve a degree of recognition by it, either for themselves or for their community.

This solidarity and communality, however, continuously gets contested and renegotiated as one would expect. Government programs, development agencies, norteños (those community members who live and work in the United States), local caciques, and evangelical churches, among others, pressure and influence those who stay. With the help of technology, however, these same entities are putting pressures on those who live in El Norte, as recent mass e-mailings from the ex-governor of Hidalgo who is one of the PRI politicians running for president would attest. In this context, Hñähñu communities engage in negotiations and mutual transformations while they negotiate and appropriate what they perceive as beneficial for them and their communities. From these transactions a sort of “syncretic knowledge” (Sillitoe, 2002) that is owned by those engaged in the process is created.

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MUJERES REUNIDAS OF EL ALBERTO The community of El Alberto, a twenty-minute ride in a

microbus from Ixmiquilpan, consists of approximately 650 families and shows the great impact emigration has had on the way the community looks. Indeed, from a trickle in the late 1980s to waves in the early 1990s, 70% of males—the great majority of them between ages 16 and 30—are in the United States, mainly in Las Vegas working in construction. Their very modest landholdings, often less than one hectare (2.2 acres), are not enough to feed their families. This situation, combined with the high demand for cheap labor in the United States, is at the basis of this extraordinary Mexican migrant exodus. Immigration restrictions and the tightening of the U.S.-Mexico border have profoundly transformed the mobility of these migrants, who now tend to spend longer periods of time in the United States to avoid being spotted by “minutemen” and detained and repatriated by immigration officials. Moreover, many women are joining their husbands or partners in an effort to counteract the difficulties of crossing the border in the highly volatile immigration context of the United States since 9/11. Working wives mean that the couple can increase their earnings and shorten their stay.

These decisions, however, need to be understood within the context of the household (or extended kinship unit) where labor, income, and resources—whether the product of migration or not—are pooled for the benefit of the unit and not the individual members. Theirs is not an individualistic project, but one that has strong communal and kinship expectations and transactions.

In only two decades, El Alberto has undergone an impressive transformation in its material culture. Even though it still has some unpaved streets, two-story houses that combine U.S. and Mexican architecture are being built with the remittances that community members have been sending back home. These “built-by-installment” houses (Frye, 1996) stand imposingly at different stages of construction and are a testament to migrants’ dreams of returning. They also attest to the transformations of their consumption patterns, styles, and taste. For instance, in El Alberto, there are some one thousand cars and pick-ups, many brand new, carefully covered in


their carports, awaiting the return of the families for Christmas or well-deserved summer vacations.

At the time of our visit, the main community project was the community’s Town Hall, designed by a migrant who had been working in Las Vegas for a big construction company since 1989. With its arches and columns, it reminded us of faraway casinos in Nevada with Roman inspiration, such as Caesar’s Palace. But it also stood for something much more profound: the clear and unwavering support and commitment of all members of the community, regardless of whether they were working in the United States or on their small plots in El Alberto. Indeed, this building whose construction started three years before our visit, was being built through faenas by those who remained in the community. Remittances, from the norteño migrants living and working in the United States and who could not comply with the labor investment that the faenas require, were used to buy the needed construction materials locally.

But the transformations have not only occurred in their material culture. The great majority of those who have stayed behind are women and their children. Even though the great majority of husbands, parents, sons, and partners regularly send money back, upon which the women and children survive, it is also possible that, due to illness, lay-offs, death, or a new family, many men are not able to send their remittances regularly. We can only imagine the hardships women face in those circumstances. To a significant degree, these women have taken over the communal responsibilities of their parents, husbands, or partners.

This area of Mexico, with very little water and great extensions of arid land, used to have big plantations of maguey (century plant) which were used in the production of pulque, a fermented beverage with an alcohol content similar to beer. By the eighteenth century, this beverage was one of the leading sources of taxes for the colonial state. Attitudes embraced by the Mexican elites and middle classes in their modernizing efforts considered pulque as one of the sources for drunkenness and backwardness among indigenous populations. This stigma and the replacement of traditional weavings—ayates—made of the maguey fiber by plastic and synthetic fibers in the late 1970s led to the abandonment of maguey plantations and the disappearance of small but important income sources for women.

124 Ella Schmidt

At present, facing more than a double burden under conditions of economic uncertainty, women in El Alberto have turned once again to more readily available traditional resources, although in a limited way, and have again begun spinning and weaving the maguey fiber. Indeed, for the last 12 years and with the support of NGOs that promote cottage industries for women, the women in El Alberto have been weaving a variety of bath products—mainly sponges—that are very successfully sold internationally through Body Shop, Inc. These NGOs, using a participatory approach, act as “cultural facilitators and knowledge brokers” (Sillitoe, 2002) and avoid top-down approaches that impose outside understandings and practices. In consequence, women of Mujeres Reunidas are seen as the actors they see themselves to be and act accordingly.

Conflict, however, is also present. At the time of our visit, 117 women were active members of their cooperative—Mujeres Reunidas—and two hundred more were eagerly awaiting their inclusion. Issues of demand and the need to open new markets were limiting membership in the cooperative. Members of the Executive Board expressed their frustration with the situation. Having benefited tremendously from this enterprise, they understood the eagerness of other community women to participate in it. Though requiring extremely intense labor—women members of the cooperative would cut, roast, carve, wash, dry, comb, and spin the materials themselves—they were able to weave or crochet between 10 to 12 sponges per week and earn around 50 pesos a day when working. This income compared positively with the 32-peso daily wage typical in the area.

The administrative structure of the cooperative mirrors the communal structures of leadership based on a rotational system that requires every member of the community to serve in administrative, leadership, and representational positions. The cooperative thus very closely follows traditional communal structures that have existed since precolonial times and that ensure citizenship rights and obligations. Women have held these positions of authority and influence, though not through direct participation in public assemblies (Nash, 1988), by accepting the responsibilities of mayordomías in the female sphere of patron saint celebrations (Hamilton, 1998) and decision-making processes. Such participation


has ensured that women play an important role in productive and, indirectly, political decisions.

The benefits did not end there. Indeed, besides a renewed interest in “reforesting” the area with maguey plants which also positively impacts the local environment, women were learning how to keep account books, write checks, and plan for the materials and work needed to fill the orders for their products. They were also taking care of their maguey plantations, very much in the centuries-old tradition of maguey production and consumption. The women elected to fulfill the different positions in the cooperative administration were learning to deal with formal institutions, governmental agencies, and financial institutions. They were also transforming—in fact, bringing back equity to—their gendered transactions and negotiations within their household and their community. Thus, a centuries-old tradition of complementarity and reciprocity among genders was being positively revived by development efforts that have, for the last 50 years at least, privileged gender divisions of labor and decision-making based on an assumed public male hierarchy.

CONQUEST, COLONIALISM, AND CAPITALISM: A UNILINEAR SENSE OF DESTRUCTION?

After centuries of impositions including forced segregation, taxation, forced labor, and coerced participation in the market, traditional indigenous communities in Latin America continue to exist, demonstrating their extraordinary resilience. Whether working to counteract ecological challenges (Murra, 1975) or legal and imperial impositions on their well being and humanity (Stavig, 1999; Silverblatt, 1987), indigenous communities have survived by calling on centuries-old communal definitions of citizenship, community participation, and civic responsibility. Targeted for their supposed economic inefficiency and lack of rationality, they were forced many times to give up traditional ways of being to make way for “progressive” ideas. Those “progressive” efforts, however, many times ignored the fact that, to be sustainable, every productive activity in rural areas needs to take care of both the environment and the population involved in the effort. In fact, many indigenous communities suffered a regression. Women were ignored and set

126 Ella Schmidt aside and all were denied their indigenous identity (Cooper & Packard, 1997) as it did not fit within a developmentalist discourse supported by urban and westernized elites that insisted that the Indian was an obstacle to progress and modernization.

We are only now coming full circle in our understanding of a deeper sense of citizenship that is older than the nation-state and which is based on empowerment to act and resolve the social, natural, or cultural challenges into which one is born (Castles & Davidson, 2000) in ways that not only make cultural and historical sense, but that are inclusive. As communities like those of the Hñähñu show us, citizenship should allow all members of the community to benefit from the social, cultural, and environmental capital available to them, provided they comply with their communal obligations through services and labor (faenas).

The response of the women of Mujeres Reunidas, though supported by “outsiders” (NGOs), also illustrates one response, among many possibilities, that showcases the plasticity of “local knowledge” when negotiating sustainability in the face of highly destabilizing circumstances brought by global forces—in this case the economically forced emigration of male labor. Though restricted in their movement by their familial and communal responsibilities, these women opted to create ways to benefit from their “traditional” domestic tasks. Knitting and tending their gardens and small plots (now their maguey plantations) allows them to continue to take care of their children and the elderly.

By the same token, these activities have stopped being “domestic” and have been transformed into global (albeit local) responses to local changes brought by global forces. The women’s encounter with global forces has pressed them to negotiate and accommodate. However, they are the ones picking and choosing what makes sense to them and what they perceive as beneficial, not because some outside force—in this case the NGOs—has imposed it on them, but because it makes cultural and economic sense to them (Long, 1996). Indeed, they are applying their indigenous knowledge of maguey production and their centuries-old tradition of maguey fiber processing into ayates and other woven products to the production of highly valued items in first-world markets. These “sophisticated” markets are discovering the benefits of indigenous knowledge that focuses on readily available and renewable natural


resources that ensure the sustainability of workers and their environment. It is true that they are now conducting transactions with banks and multinational corporations, and they have fundamentally changed in their own perceptions of themselves. But those “global” forces are also being changed by these women’s resilience and strong belief in their families, communities, and understandings of citizenship. In fact, one could say that the “global” is helping them to remain “local,” although transformed.

Ironically, the global forces that created the “third world” as a category and which are behind the forced migratory exodus, are now, more than ever, engaged with the local. In fact, they are the economic foundation of an effort by indigenous communities like El Alberto to help rescue and promote traditional social structures and processes that aim at securing the material well-being of their citizens, as long as they are willing to respect and comply with the civic obligations that their citizenship entails. At the same time, many in the “modern” world are embracing their ecological and environmental tactics of appropriate and sustainable agriculture indicating that they, not those who argued for top-down progress, may well have been the progressive ones. All researchers, ourselves included, should be encouraged to look more closely at the articulations and interactions of the local, many times viewed as traditional and indigenous, and the global, usually viewed as cosmopolitan and modern (Ferguson, 1997). We need to be reminded that the traditional is not an isolated, static, or fixed piece that can be stuck in a museum and that the global is not homogeneously hegemonic. There is plenty of space in which to negotiate, contest, and transform—to better respond to that which is imposed or sometimes seen as inevitable.

The impact that global forces are having on the Hñähñu both in their communities in the Valle del Mezquital and in the United States cannot be ignored. The mass emigration of mainly men at the height of their productive lives is having an impact on those who stay in their communities of origin, mainly women, children and the elderly. Though the economic impact of their absence is considerable, women are responding to these challenges by creating female cooperatives that are revitalizing a traditional cottage industry of maguey processing that could not face the competition of cheap synthetic products from the 1970s onward, but which have found a

128 Ella Schmidt market again. This production has also fostered a renewed effort to “reforest” the abandoned maguey fields, thus helping to reverse the degradation of their surrounding environment. This renewed emphasis on the key role of women in the productive process has also started to highlight the traditional status of women as equal partners in the household. Global pressures have not been the only factor forcing men to emigrate. Demographic pressures from within the community, combined with lack of access to land, have forced, and continue to force millions of rural people to seek alternative sources of sustainability. Men normally do not just decide to leave their families without discussing the pros and cons with the members of their household. The Hñähñu’s is indeed a household strategy that aims at maximizing the survival and well-being of all the members of the extended family.

Should we assume that what the women of El Alberto are doing is becoming more “traditional” in the face of the challenges imposed by the absence of their fathers, husbands, or partners and the economic impact that their absence entails? (De la Cadena, 1995). Should we infer that their revival of traditional maguey fiber processing, is, in fact, an act of resistance to outside homogenizing global forces? Or should we assume that these women are becoming modern and, in a sense, “global” due to their ties to international markets and their use of modern technologies? Are they just adjusting to the new pressures brought by the “opening” of their “closed” communities to the benefits of consumerism and industrialization? Are they and their communities losing their cultural identity and way of life? Does the answer need to be an “either/or” elaboration?

The responses of the women of El Alberto need to be analyzed within a framework that takes into consideration the active processes of selective appropriation and transformation of both local and global forces and realities by actors who need to make sense of their world in their own cultural terms (Mintz, 1998). Actors, in this case the women in Mujeres Reunidas, selectively appropriate and transform the “global” factors that, combined with their “local” understandings and skills, make cultural sense to them. It is these transactions that become the interface of impersonal global forces and very specific cultural realities. It is in these contexts that global and local forces get redefined and recreated—where the “global is


made local through the attribution of meaning” (Low, 2000, p. 244). Luckily, redefinitions, recreations, indeed the construction of meaning, force us to see peoples as social actors, and not pawns, who think and choose, albeit within the limitations that their realities impose on them.

NOTES 1. This research was made possible by a grant from the

University of South Florida Globalization Research Center. 2. In our visit in the summer of 2003, one of their own, a

Hñähñu bilingual rural teacher from Ixmiquilpan, a Hñähñu area, was elected to the Senate. Another young Hñähñu had been elected to the state legislature in early 2000 and heads the Assembly’s International Migration Committee.

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76 7 Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India Gurleen Grewal

INTRODUCTION The postcolonial Indian state was envisioned to have

responsibilities to its marginalized citizens in the areas of health services, education, food security, and subsidized agriculture. Despite the discourse of poverty alleviation, the Indian state proved an ineffectual ally of the poor and more complicit with the economic elites. The failure of development strategies to transform the conditions they sought to redress has been widely acknowledged in Indian feminist scholarship (Kapadia, 2002; Sen & Grown, 1987). Now, more than ever before, the onus of addressing poverty falls on social movements.

Fifty years after Nehruvian development, Arundhati Roy (2001) offers this vivid picture of the gap between two Indian worlds: “In the lane behind my house, every night I walk past road gangs of emaciated laborers digging a trench to lay fiber-optic cables to speed up our digital revolution. In the bitter winter cold, they work by the light of a few candles.” Claiming India as “a microcosm of the world,” she depicts its people as being “rounded up and loaded onto two convoys of trucks (a huge big one and a tiny little one) that have set off resolutely in opposite directions,” the tiny one “to a glittering destination” while the other “just melts into the darkness and disappears” (pp. 2-3).

134 Gurleen Grewal

In India those who melt into the darkness are those whose resources are now being annexed in the name of national economic growth: poor women, dalits (oppressed castes), and adivasis (indigenous tribals). This paper examines some of the people’s resistance movements in the context of the nation’s trajectory from independence to the present.

INDIA’S ECONOMY SINCE 1947 Central to any understanding of the postcolonial world is the

enormous gap between “the class- and gender-differentiated colonial subject” and all those “persons and groups [who] were cut off from the cultural lines that produced the colonial subject” (Spivak, 2000, p. 325). In the case of India, the splitting of the Indian economy along lines of gender and caste created fissures that continue to deepen with economic liberalization. In the last century, Mahatma K. Gandhi pondered the gap as did Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of India; however, their solutions to those gaps were diametrically opposed.

According to Gandhi, “Civilization in the real sense of the term, consists not in the multiplication, but in the deliberate and voluntary reduction of wants. This alone promotes real happiness and contentment, and increases the capacity for service” (Gandhi, 1930/ 1999). The foundation of Gandhian thought was “a form of non-exploitative ‘moral economics’ in which everyone works for the common good without seeking to accumulate any more than they need.” Mistrustful of technological industrialism, Gandhi advocated “village self-sufficiency on the basis of the principles of swadeshi (interiority or endogenousness) and sarvodaya (improving everyone’s living conditions).” The latter vision never had a chance, since it was part of “a standpoint that lay outside the thematic of post-Enlightenment thought, and hence of nationalist thought as well” (Chatterjee, 1993, p. 100). Nevertheless, the Gandhian principle of nonviolence as an effective vehicle for social transformation continues to spur grassroots movements by and in behalf of the underprivileged.

Nehru, with his passion for dams and technology and his belief in “progress,” is emblematic of the discourse of development—the mindset that carried the day. Investment in industrial development and expertise from the advanced industrialized North would promote

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 135 economic growth and reduce poverty. After colonial rule, under which India’s economy was dismantled and reorganized to provide raw material for Britain’s manufacturing industry, the postcolonial nation faced the challenge of redressing hunger and poverty.

The stage was set for the deux ex machina of Northern development bureaucrats and technocrats meeting their Southern counterparts for planning, designing, and executing models of economic growth for the undeveloped poor. Development served both the aspirations of the colonized nations and the metropolitan developers, for whom international development’s staging and managing of world poverty through the World Bank systematically enabled the commercial interests of first world corporations. Not incidentally, it also enabled the containment of decolonization and socialism. The international critics of development saw it variously: as a means of creating third world dependency (Amin, 1978; Frank, 1981), as a discursive production of the third world (Escobar, 1994), as patriarchal, and as environmentally destructive (Mies & Shiva, 1993). Escobar’s (1994) “anthropology of modernity” shows how “the development strategy became a powerful instrument for normalizing the world” (p. 26).

Pressured by increasing levels of debt, India caught up with the rest of the developing world by officially acquiescing to neoliberal reforms in 1991, when the Indian government signed on to World Bank and International Monetary Fund loans.

The coupling of the World Bank and the World Trade Organization (WTO) has meant the death of development as the liberal paradigm of the democratic state seeking to redress poverty and inequality in the economic and social lives of its people. In India, the adoption of the neoliberal paradigm meant forsaking all those who were cut off from the lines of privilege that produced the class-caste and gender-differentiated colonial subject. As Spivak (1999) observes:

It is now more than ever impossible for the new developing states—the newly decolonized or the old decolonized nations—to escape the orthodox constraints of a “neo-liberal” world economic system that, in the name of Development, and now “sustainable development,” removes all barriers between itself and fragile national economies, so that any possibility of social redistribution is severely damaged. (p. 357)

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According to economist Amartya Sen (1999), the one solution that is not available is that of stopping [the] globalization

of trade and economies, since the forces of economic exchange and division of labor are hard to resist in a competitive world fueled by massive technological evolution that gives modern technology an economically competitive edge. (p. 240)

Acknowledging that “the market economy should not have priority or dominance over other institutions,” Sen (2004) recognizes that the “themes that the anti-globalization protesters bring to the discussion are of extraordinary importance” (p. 67).

It is in this context that Gandhi’s vision continues to exert a powerful force on social movements in India today. I will examine three contemporary grassroots movements that owe their inspiration to Gandhi’s ideas of equity and satyagraha, the nonviolent force of truth mobilized for social change. These movements are the Chipko Resistance Movement, Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) (“Save the Narmada Movement”), and the SEWA (Self-Employed Women’s Association). Because the Chipko focused on cutting forests and the NBA on damming the Narmada River, they are referred to as environmental movements. However, in comparing them with SEWA, a grassroots organization for improving the economic lives of poor, self-employed women, I want to show how each is centered on the economic needs of the poor—needs that the development policies and processes have ignored.

POVERTY AND SOCIAL JUSTICE Each of these movements confronts the issues of poverty as

inequality. In each, middle-class activists collaborate with the poor, among whom women emerge as significant players. Poor rural women have a lot at stake in the processes of environmental degradation and the appropriation of natural resources by the state or private corporations. Not surprisingly, they have participated in grassroots resistance movements.

However, it is important to note that issues of inequality and the question of access to natural resources in India have often been cast in the metropolitan discourse of environmental protection, rather than primarily as issues of poverty and of gender inequity. This

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 137 positioning explains the iconic status of the Chipko Andolan of the 1970s and the Narmada Bachao Andolan of the 1980s and 1990s.

As Vandana Shiva (1998) clarifies, these are “communities defending their eco-systems and resources.” As such, they constitute “the anti-poverty movements because in the South the forces that make people poor are the same forces that destroy their resources. In fact, it’s because their resources are either destroyed or taken away [that] people are left poor.” This correlation is seldom acknowledged since “securing community rights to natural resources” collides with the consumption and profit-expansion of middle classes and corporations. “As the consumer class corners resources through the global reach of corporations, they contribute to the marginalization of that third of the world population which derives their livelihood directly from free access to land, water, and forests” (Sachs, 2002, pp. 15-16).

In India, as elsewhere in the world, there are two worldviews or relationships to nature. The dominant one is that of industrial civilization in which the relationship of human beings to nature is dictated by the forces of production, consumption, and the generation of profits. The subordinated worldview is that held by the indigenous peoples of the world, in which nature is an intelligence that gives life and makes human survival possible. In the modern world, the two worldviews coexist, although the second is marginalized as the backward culture of subsistence economies and the other is valorized as the advanced technological engine of productive economies.

At present, these subsistence economies are being endangered worldwide. Simultaneously, the productive economies with the pragmatic, scientific view of nature have come under censure by an ethical and pragmatic imperative from within, that of sustainability. Since the Stockholm Conference in 1972, the pollution of the environment entered the international discourse of development and growth. In this context, Maurice Strong’s comment is pertinent: “The environment isn’t just an issue, something to be fixed while everything else remains the same. Ecological destruction is a sign of the imbalance in the way our industrial civilization sets its priorities and governs itself” (qtd. in Cavanagh & Mander, 2004, p. 86).

In response, the Brundtland Commission report, Our Common Future, drafted the notion of sustainable development (World

138 Gurleen Grewal Commission, 1987). The 1992 Earth Summit in Rio was followed a decade later by the Johannesburg Summit in 2002. As Sachs (2002) notes, “At the time of Rio, sustainable development was mainly about protecting nature, but now, in the wake of Johannesburg, it is first and foremost about protecting people” (p. 15). The challenge of “being pro-environment and pro-poor” is that it “goes against the grain of the dominant order of development, driven by the North and accepted by the elites of the South, both of whom have [a] vested interest in short-term gains” (p. 14). Nevertheless, how to protect people’s livelihoods, empower the poor, and eliminate the gendered nature of inequality—these are the challenges for all those who wish to address the central issues of poverty and sustainability in India and elsewhere.

THE GENDERED NATURE OF INEQUALITY The gendered nature of inequality has been addressed in the

environmental movement of the North as ecofeminism. Philosophically at variance with the Enlightenment rhetoric of scientific objectivity, ecofeminist critiques have shown how women and nature have both been subordinate to the androcentric rationality that founded science and capitalism and how the human/nature duality and the man/woman duality make both women and nature objects of mastery for the western rational male subject (Plumwood, 1994). Ecofeminism has mostly been an important grassroots political movement involved in issues ranging from peace activism, women’s health issues, animal rights, and biotechnology. Some of the theoretical implications of ecofeminism have been subject to critique and debate among feminists, chief among them being the essential proximity of women to nature, and the idea of “women’s nature” itself. The most visible exponent of ecofeminism in India is Vandana Shiva, who defines patriarchal capitalist development as “maldevelopment” (1989, p. 5).

Shiva’s (1989, 2002) ecofeminism represents an ideological and philosophical difference that lines up India’s ancient philosophy and nature-based religions with holistic and ecological values, and against western man’s scientific rationality of dualism, hierarchy, and ecological unsustainability. Yet this formulation tends to ignore the ancient hierarchies of Indian society and has no answers for

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 139 the oppressed lives of poor rural women’s day-to-day efforts at subsistence that may follow the feminine principle but which leaves them without access to property and bearing the brunt of domestic and field work. One could say that the struggle needs to be waged on different fronts and on different levels.

THE CHIPKO RESISTANCE MOVEMENT The Chipko Resistance Movement, originating in the Garhwal

hills of northwest India, where women in villages clung to trees to save them from state-authorized loggers, became emblematic of an international ecofeminist movement eager to showcase the subordination of women and nature and women’s environmental consciousness. Chipko is a movement in which poor women united to safeguard their own livelihood, which depended on the forests. This instance of poor women’s agency was but one in an ongoing saga of hill people’s marginalization, first under colonial rule, and then by the Indian state. Peasant rights to food, fuel, livestock pastures, and fodder were encroached upon first by the colonial state under the Indian Forest Act (1865), in which the scientific management of forests allowed separating them from people and converting them into commodities for private ownership (Cavanagh & Mander, 2004, p. 131).

Vandana Shiva (1989) portrays the poor rural women of Chipko as the redeemers of the environment “who, as leaders and activists, had put the life of the forests above their own and, with their actions, had stated that nature is indispensable to survival” (p. 218). They become instances of an idealized feminine principle in action. Others, including feminists, have questioned what they consider to be a romanticization of women’s survival instincts. Chipko means to stick, but it has been translated as to hug or to embrace the trees, diction that transforms an act of survival to an act of environmental consciousness. The women were arguably protecting their forest-dependent livelihoods, not altruistically putting “the life of the forests above their own.”

As Sturgeon (1997) astutely notes, “Positioning women as environmental activists was one moment in a dialectical process of negotiation between dominant interests in development policies and feminist efforts to insert women’s concerns into an international

140 Gurleen Grewal arena” (p. 145) Shiva is not the only one to take such a step. At the Stockholm Conference in 1972, during a parallel NGO meeting, Sunderlal Bahuguna, a charismatic male Indian activist, “presented Chipko women as exemplars of community-based, sustainable environmental practices” (Sturgeon, 1997, p. 144). He was responding to the “Limits to Growth” thesis circulating at the time; it implied that third world women were responsible for environmental degradation through overpopulation and consumption of resources. This thesis, interestingly, has never been completely overturned. It returns to haunt any discussion of the environment and poverty.

The Expert Group on Population Policy set up by the Indian state appalled women’s organizations when it concluded that population growth was a cause of both increased poverty and environmental degradation. As Mary John (2005) notes, the resulting population policy “leav[es] precisely all the major issues of macro-economic policy unaddressed” (p. 119). It ignores findings that population levels tend to decline only when women are educated and economically empowered. As Sen (1999) argues, women’s reproductive choices are intrinsically linked to the economy; the absence of economic choices and social security is related to high fertility rates, even though the latter is not in the interests of women’s own well-being. Policies imposing birth control do not remove social and material inequities. The development of a nation is about enhancing, not curtailing, the freedoms of its citizens; only by enhancing women’s status and by increasing women’s agency can we hope to find long-term solutions.

Interestingly, feminist environmentalists in India do not call themselves ecofeminists, even though they critique the state and the globalized model of economic growth that disempowers poor women’s lives in the name of development. Within the nation, the debate is closely organized around gender inequity, labor relations, caste inequalities and the role of the state as it advances along neo-liberal lines while sacrificing the majority poor. The Indian feminist environmentalist analysis differs from that of ecofeminism in the following ways: (a) women are not alone in having a special stake in environmental regeneration; (b) what’s good for the environment may not be good for the women in question and vice versa; (c) the Indian feminist environmentalists do not advocate a retreat to indigenous social and knowledge systems since that would not alter

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 141 national or international power structures (Mitter, 1995); and (d) the ideological linkages between women and nature in the North (i.e., both have been ideologically related and oppressed by patriarchal economy) do not prevail in the South, where the emphasis is on “the material basis for this link” (Agarwal, 1992). From this perspective, Shiva, in valorizing the superior wisdom of the feminine principle, does not concern herself with the inequities of traditional gender norms or the means by which to overcome them. Similarly in valorizing subsistence agriculture, Shiva’s critics argue, she over-looks disabling class and caste divisions (Agarwal, 1998; Nanda, 2002; Roy & Borowiak, 2003).

Feminist analyses have shown that women’s gendered relationship to the environment affects them negatively (Agarwal, 1998, 2001). In a poor farming household, gendered roles and the division of labor makes women responsible for the domestic front: child-rearing, raising and cooking food, collecting the household’s firewood and water, tending cattle and acquiring their fodder, and toiling in the fields. It is a heavy burden. Traditional gender-based norms are made worse by material inequality. The depletion of water increases women’s drudgery. The degradation of forests reduces their source of fuel and fodder. When food is scarce, they are the ones who remain undernourished.

THE SAVE THE NARMADA MOVEMENT The Narmada Bachao Andolan or “Save the Narmada

Movement” reflects the predicament shared by indigenous, tribal, and peasant communities across the global South. Shiva (2000) aptly calls them the “new global environmental refugees” (p. 112). In the last 50 years, big dams in India have displaced an estimated 30 to 50 million people. Even the fact that there is no telling how many people have been displaced is itself appalling; these are the “noncitizens,” the ones who do not count, who have neither been recompensed nor rehabilitated (Roy, 2001). The diversion of water to rich farmers’ commodity crops and to urban factories (chemical factories and pharmaceuticals) relegates to secondary status the subsistence need of indigenous people for water and land.

In 1985, the World Bank authorized and sanctioned a $450 million loan for Sardar Sarovar dam on the Narmada River, a dam

142 Gurleen Grewal “that would alter the ecology of an entire river basin, affect the lives of 25 million people who live in the valley, displace 160 villages, [and] submerge 4000 sq km of old-growth deciduous forest” (Roy, 2001, p. 39). In 1993 after a spirited struggle by the Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) led by Medha Patkar, the Bank was forced to withdraw. In 1994, the NBA succeeded in getting a legal injunction against further construction on the dam. In 2000, however, the Supreme Court of India lifted the injunction. As a result the Sardar Sarovar dam is being built against the protests of the people.

When the lives of 700 million people depend on access to natural resources, privatization of these resources amounts to what Roy (2001) rightly calls “dispossession on a scale that has no parallel in history” (p. 43). As Amita Baviskar (2005) notes, “The Indian state has often mobilized the claim of ‘national interest’ to justify policies and projects that adversely affect the poor” (p. 171). It is important that we see how the imperatives of a market economy generate poverty. Cash crops take land and water resources away from sustenance needs and exclude populations, largely women, from their entitlement to food. The results include increases in hunger, homelessness, migrant labor, sex trade, and beggary in urban centers.

While the NBA has called for an alternative development paradigm that combines the politics of “green and red,” of environmental protection and social justice, it has been reluctant to confront the issues of gender inequity pertaining to tribal women whose specific needs, being in conflict with those of their men, are deemed divisive of the movement (Basu & Silliman, 2000). Further, since “[i]ssues of resettlement and compensation for the displaced have been at the core of the Narmada struggle,” it is disturbing that the national resettlement policy is guided by a patriarchal bias: “land right [is given] to the head of household presumed to be male,” which both “ignores female-headed households and the fact that not all women can depend on men for financial support” (Basu & Silliman, 2000, pp. 429, 430). Feminist scholars have made it clear that unless the material basis of women’s inequality is addressed in issues of land and property rights, there will be little improvement in women’s status (Agarwal, 1994).

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 143

THE SELF-EMPLOYED WOMEN’S ASSOCIATION This understanding leads us to the important grassroots action of

SEWA, the Self-Employed Women’s Association, an umbrella organization comprised of 16 member groups that represent 220,000 members. Founder Ela Bhatt, a lawyer who represented the Textile Labor Association in Ahmedabad, Gujarat (which Gandhi helped found in 1917), saw the need to organize poor women’s activities so that they had rights, wages, better working conditions, and minimal security. Eighty percent of India’s women are poor, and SEWA is an excellent example of positive intervention in the lives of the poor who work for meager wages in fields, forests, roads, and homes that constitute the informal sector of the economy (Crowell, 2003). Examples of workers in the informal sector are vegetable vendors, construction laborers, cart pullers, and bidi-rollers.

The largest women’s labor union, SEWA, which operates mostly in urban and rural Gujarat, facilitates women’s income generation and protection. The goal is not to impose governance but to facilitate women’s participation in their own empowerment. For women working in urban areas, the daily issues and problems include unpolluted water, housing, running a business, and confronting city officials, health departments, and police or power cliques. To solve the problem of extortion by moneylenders, in 1974 SEWA expanded its labor union work to create a cooperative bank that lent money to the shareholding women.

Having organized urban women workers, SEWA next focused on rural development. In the villages of Banaskantha and Kutch in Gujarat, they tackled such rights as literacy, nutrition, and the control of assets denied to impoverished women by the force of traditions that privileged males. What is most needed in rural areas is adequate employment so that migration to the cities is no longer a necessity. Migration is undesirable as it disrupts family and community life and destroys support systems; furthermore, urban options are harsh, especially for women workers who are paid less than their male counterparts (Crowell, 2003, p. 69).

The SEWA movement provides linkages in areas of training, technology, marketing, capital, and social services. It shows that, with a little bit of help, poor and illiterate women can organize on behalf of their own interests—that concepts such as capacity-

144 Gurleen Grewal building, asset-building and empowerment are crucial to the removal of poverty and thus to sustainable development (Crowell, 2003).

CONCLUSION The work of SEWA also shows how transformative changes can

be made in the lives of the poor by engaging their own agency. Any advocacy of sustainable development, if it is not to replicate the cynical rhetoric of oil companies spouting “sustainability,” must acknowledge the rights of local communities to be in charge of their resources. Economic growth is often assumed to be synonymous with progress, but progress also has social, moral, and spiritual implications that have yet to be taken seriously in matters of international policy. Today, the economic elite and the media that serve them deny the increasing levels of poverty, choosing instead to showcase India as the shining global hub of information technologies. Is another way possible? This is not a new question, although each time it is asked it carries all the urgency and poignancy of the context that poses it. Even though faced with the numbing and overwhelming statistics of waste and greed, social movements must act as if another world is possible.

REFERENCES Agarwal, B. (1992). The gender and environment debate: Lessons from

India. Feminist Studies, 18 (1), 119-58. Agarwal, B. (1994). A field of one’s own: Gender and land rights in South

Asia. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Agarwal, B. (1998). Environmental action, equity, and ecofeminism:

Debating India’s experience. Journal of Peasant Studies, 25(4), 55-95. Agarwal, B. (2001, Fall). A challenge for ecofeminism: Gender, greening,

and community forestry in India. Women and Environments International Magazine, No. 52/53, 12-15.

Amin, S. (1978). Accumulation on a world scale. New York: Monthly Review Press.

Basu, P., & Silliman, J. (2000). Green and red, not saffron: Gender and the politics of resistance in the Narmada Valley. In C. Chapple, A. Sharma, & M. Tucker (Eds.), Hinduism and ecology: The intersection of earth, sky, and water (pp. 423-447). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Feminism, Poverty, and Grassroots Movements in India 145 Baviskar, A. (2005). Red in tooth and claw? Looking for class in struggles

over nature. In R. Ray & M. F. Katzenstein (Eds.), Social movements in India: Poverty, power, and politics (pp. 161-178). Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.

Cavanagh, J., & Mander, J. (Eds.). (2004). Alternatives to economic globalization. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler.

Chatterjee, P. (1993). Nationalist thought and the colonial world: A derivative discourse. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press.

Crowell, D. W. (2003). The SEWA movement and rural development. New Delhi: Sage.

Escobar, A. (1994). Encountering development: The making and unmaking of the third world. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Frank, G. (1981). Crisis in the third world. NewYork: Holmes & Meier. Gandhi, M. K. (1930/1999). Letter to Narandas Gandhi, 1930. In Mahatma

Gandhi: Multimedia E-book. New Delhi: Ministry of Information and Broadcasting.

John, M. E. (2005). Feminism, poverty, and the emergent social order. In R. Ray & M. F. Katzenstein (Eds.), Social movements in India: Poverty, power, and politics (pp. 107-134). Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.

Kapadia, K. (Ed.). (2002). The violence of development: The politics of identity, gender and social inequalities in India. London: Zed Books.

Mies, M., & Shiva, V. (1993). Ecofeminism. London: Zed Books. Mitter, S. (1995). Beyond the politics of difference: An introduction. In S.

Mitter & S. Rowbotham (Eds.), Women encounter technology: Changing patterns of employment in the third world (pp. 1-18). London: Routledge.

Nanda, M. (2002). Do the marginalized valorize the margins? Exploring the dangers of difference. In K. Saunders (Ed.), Feminist post-development thought: Rethinking modernity, post-colonialism and representation (pp. 212-223). London: Zed Press.

Plumwood, V. (1994). Feminism and the mastery of nature. New York: Routledge.

Roy, A. (2001). Power politics. Boston, MA: South End Press. Roy, T., & Borowiak, C. (2003). Against ecofeminism: The splintered

subject of agrarian nationalism in post-independent India. Alternatives: Global Local Political, 28(1), 57-90.

Sachs, W. (2002). Fairness in a fragile world: The Johannesburg agenda. Development, 45(3), 12-17.

Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom. New York: Anchor Books. Sen, A. (2004). Interviewed by David Barsamian, August 2001. Louder

than bombs: Interviews from the Progressive Magazine. Boston, MA: South End Press.

146 Gurleen Grewal Sen, G., & Grown, C. (1987). Development, crises, and alternative visions:

Third world women’s perspectives. New York: Monthly Review Press. Shiva, V. (1989). Staying alive: Women, ecology and development. London:

Zed Books. Shiva, V. (1998, August 14). An Interview with Dr. Vandana Shiva. In

Motion Magazine [electronic version]. Retrieved on April 9, 2005 from http://www.inmotionmagazine.com/shiva.html.

Shiva, V. (2000). The world on the edge. In W. Hutton & A. Giddens (Eds.), Global capitalism (pp. 112-129). New York: The New Press.

Shiva, V. (2002). Mad cows and sacred cows. In K. Saunders (Ed.), Feminist post-development thought: Rethinking modernity, post-colonialism and representation (2nd ed., pp. 183-197). London: Zed Press.

Spivak, G. C. (1999). A critique of postcolonial reason: Toward a history of the vanishing present. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Spivak, G. C. (2000). The new subaltern: A silent interview. In Vinayak Chaturvedi (Ed.). Mapping subaltern studies and the postcolonial (pp. 324-340). New York: Verso.

Sturgeon, N. (1997). Ecofeminist natures: Race, gender, feminist theory, and political action. New York: Routledge.


8 88 8 To Save a City: Grassroots Movement toward Reforestation in Ica, Peru Richard Weisskoff1

This is a story of one Peruvian city’s race against nature and the periodic floods and landslides that have devastated Ica three times in the past 35 years. It is the story of a race against time, bureaucratic inertia, corruption, and disbelief that the so-called “natural” cycle of flooding can indeed be broken by a simple and ingenious grassroots strategy of reforestation and job creation.

It is also a story of three men determined to work with and for the rest of their Peruvian society. They have, with modest foreign funding, gathered the scientific data, built dams in the arid canyon, surveyed the archaeological resources, and started the process of planting tree nurseries, educating the public, and pressuring the politicians.

Our story officially begins on the frightful and unforgettable afternoon of January 29, 1998. By four o’clock in the afternoon, the torrential rains associated with El Niño began to fall on the city of Ica and in the northeastern mountain canyons running down from the highlands of the coastal Andean mountains (Vine Perez, 1999). The range ascends from 400 meters to 3,200 meters (10,000 feet) above sea level in 25 to 30 kilometers, and the loess soils in the canyons and coastal mountains, denuded of any vegetation, have only a precarious hold on the mountain surfaces. The torrential rains come suddenly, pouring down the ravines, taking the topsoil, and turning

148 Richard Weisskoff

the waters into rivers of mud. The gigantic, lava-like mudslides move through the canyons into the fertile valleys below. Above, in the high Andes, there remain, quite unaware of the natural disaster below, the poor agrarian regions of Huancavelica and Ayacucho, that, in the colonial period, had produced the mercury needed to extract silver from the mines and thus gave Peru its fabled wealth. Below, on the coastal lowlands now flourishes the new wealth-generator for Peru: the expanding agribusiness-based region of Ica, today responsible for 20 to 30% of Peru’s agricultural export earnings. Ica alone accounts for 50% of the harvested acreage and 40% of the harvest of asparagus production, and, together with the more northern province of La Libertad, they have made Peru the number two producer of asparagus in the world, after China and ahead of the U.S. and Mexico. In addition, Ica also is a welcoming destination for migrants descending from the poor Andean highlands, fleeing the terror and poverty of the Andes to seek work in the irrigated coastal farms.2

The 1998 mudslide devastated the homes and work places of some 120,000 people, affected two-thirds of the agricultural land, and destroyed 97% of the irrigation investments in the Ica Valley. Of the three canyons to the east of the city, the “Cansas Canyon” (pronounced like the state of “Kansas”) funneled the rain waters into a narrow channel which then broadened to provide the path for the mud-flows which would break through a narrow corridor into the Ica River and flood the city with boulders and slimy mud.

Only at this point did the emergency relief agencies act—the Pan American Health Organization (PAHO), the Organization of American States (OAS), and the Agency for International Development (USAID)—bringing humanitarian assistance to curtail the outbreaks of cholera due to the contamination of the water supply and the massive displacement of people. Ica had been taken by surprise (PAHO, 2000).

Although the intense rains associated with the El Niño cycle had been anticipated, Ica had been declared outside the danger zone. No preparations had been made. Fifteen years earlier (on March 16, 1983) and 20 years before that (on March 8, 1963), the Ica River had overflowed its banks, bringing destruction and chaos to the city, but never on this scale. In the 90 years from 1908 and 1998, the city had been flooded five times. Between 1921 and 1998, the Ica River had

To Save a City 149

overflowed 18 times, devastating the river defenses 15 times. Thirty-two mudslides are documented in the Cansas Canyon between 1921 and 2002 (Huarango Group, 2002). Yet, despite the regularity of the devastation and aside from the construction of modest flood walls around parts of the channel itself, little effort has been given to preventing the next disaster.

Nor are the floods the exclusive domain of El Niño. Flooding in seven years (1946, 1955, 1961, 1963, 1967, 1994, and 1999) occurred without El Niño; one moderate El Niño year (1931-1932) greatly affected Ica, and four El Niño years (1965, 1983, 1987, and 1992) brought drought in Ica. Clearly, other hydro-meteorological factors must be operating. To compound the “natural” causes, the recent growth of both the settled and agricultural areas at the mouth of the Cansas Canyon, especially in the zones of Parcona and Tinguina, themselves under perpetual threat of direct flows, have compressed the area of diffusion of the traditional alluvial cone and thereby constricted the mudslide to break through to the Ica River and devastate the city (Huarangoica, 2005).

ENTER THE HUARANGO GROUP The Huarango Group took its name from the original Quecha

language for a native tree (Prosopis pallida), a long-lived hardwood known to send tap-roots down as far as 40 meters in search of water, a natural anchor against torrential rains and landslides. The tree itself merits further elaboration, for, after all, it, too, is the hero of our story.

The huarango, known to the rest of Peru and South America as algarrobos, is the perfect multipurpose tree. Called “King of the Desert” for its viability and versatility in arid climates, whole forests of algarrobos in northern Peru help control desertification, fight soil erosion, improve fertility by fixing nitrogen from the atmosphere, and add organic material to the soil through the loss of their leaves. The leaves also provide nutritious forage for cattle, goats, sheep, and pigs and can be harvested as feed. Herds of goats browse on the lower branches


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The tree is resistant to drought and yields a durable and compact wood which is used for furniture, fencing, and charcoal. The fruit of the huarango, a pod, is produced in droughts when other natural forage is scarce. Bees that pollinate the flowers create a colorless, high-quality honey, as well as a distinctive nectar and resin. A sweet extract made from the fruit, called algarrobina, is used to flavor soy-drinks and yogurt and to keep milk fresh. The fermented sugary extract is made into liquors, drinks, perfume, pharmaceuticals, and solvents (Food & Agriculture Organization, 2005).

The Huarango Group has proposed that the canyons be reforested with this remarkable tree to hold the soil and anchor the proposed barrier-dams that must be built on the canyon floor to interrupt and hopefully restrain the mudslides.

The government has its own long-term solution: a series of concrete barriers built to withhold the full force of the waters and mudslides. However, this world-class engineering solution has an estimated cost of hundreds of millions, with no financing in sight.

Figure 8.2 Looking toward Ica and the Ocean from atop a Mud Slide, Cansas Canyon Source: Huarango Group, Ica


The Huarango Group consists of Alejandro Pavez Wellman, a Chilean geographer and expert on desert ecosystems; Felix Quinteros Ferreyra, an ecologist, born in Ica, and a promoter and conserver of native vegetation; and David Bayer, rural sociologist, former Peace Corps volunteer, and long-term Ica resident.

IMPLEMENTING THE VISION In the winter of 2002, the Huarango Group began to put their

vision into operation. It would require growing native trees by the thousands in nurseries and providing water to support the canyon-forests in the dry seasons.3 Where could these waters be found: beneath the canyon floors, in known wells, or in abandoned mines?

Second, detailed weather information would be needed about the canyon climate: the winds, temperature, and humidity. Could a forest survive in the canyons, even if water were provided?

Third, could earthen or boulder dams be constructed from materials already found in the canyon? Would such dams survive the floods and hold back the waters? And after the seasonal rains, would the temporary “lakes” formed behind the dams support life before they dried up? In short, could the ecology of the canyons be altered by the creation of effective, low-cost impediments to the mudslides consisting of dams and forests—all before the next big rain—and thus “save” the city?

History, tradition, politics, financing, and the existing bureaucratic setting were all operating against the Huarango Group. Despite the regular flooding during the past century and the most recent devastation in 1998, Ica had no preventative and preemptive mechanisms in place and no funds to create or execute any plans. Quite the contrary, “natural” disasters bring “relief,” foreign funding, and reconstruction. The international organizations respond only once disaster has struck.

With the help of a shoestring budget from the University of Miami’s Program in Environment and Development (PRENDE) and support from Lima’s International Potato Center, the Huarango Group installed three remote weather stations in the Cansas Canyon and, in 2002, began collecting meteorological data.4 (One of the stations was vandalized in July 2005.)

To Save a City 153

A local contractor contributed a bulldozer, backhoe, and heavy truck to begin the construction of dams across the canyon floor. The Huarango Group founded a nursery to grow thousands of seedlings from four different native trees that will be transplanted onto and around the dams and on the canyon slopes.

The pilot dams were experimental. Fortunately, no major grand-slam slide came to test these boulder barriers, but the seasonal flooding to date has proven their efficacy.5 The transitory lakes created by the seasonal waters caught behind the dams have given rise to a flourishing plant life and a return of animal life to the otherwise Death Valley-like “wasteland.”6

Some growers remember well their losses from the 1998 floods, and local agribusiness enterprises are now taking an interest in the project as well. They understand the need for preventative action, but so far, the Ministry of Agriculture has declined to utilize its authority to tax all growers to fund this project.

The local government, rather than support the Huarango Group in its quest to declare the canyon a national forest preserve,7 had instead given the Group the mandate to educate the urban public and to plant trees extensively within the city. This first step was helpful in generating widespread and ongoing public support, as well as protecting the urban ecology.

THE FIRST PHASE, 2004-2006 In 2004, the Huarango Group and its Ica Reforestation and Flood

Protection Project became integrated with the Human Rights Commission of Ica (Comisión de Derechos Humanos de Ica [CODEHICA]), one of the region’s most respected and influential nongovernment organizations (NGO). CODEHICA today provides the organizational and administrative support necessary for the Huarango Group to carry on the long-term project. At the same time, it clearly puts ecological security—safety from floods and mudslides—on the human rights agenda.

National politics and short-sightedness have prevented the project from receiving regional funding. The Ica region has remained staunchly “Aprista,” at odds with the current president. Rather than support the Huarango Group’s initiative, in a series of public meetings in August and September 2004, the regional government


withheld an unqualified endorsement for constructing the canyon dams, reforesting, and establishing a nature preserve, “deferring” instead its authority to the federal level.

Other and new obstacles are arising. Irresponsible promoters are selling housing plots in the Cansas Canyon to land-hungry settlers who are willing to take the chance that another mudslide will not occur in their lifetime. The promoters and speculators, in any case, will have made their fortune by the next flood. Worse yet, the dry recesses of the canyon are becoming the urban trash depositories for the region’s toxic and metallic wastes, guaranteeing that the next mudslide will push this waste back into the city and across the valley floor, contaminating both the urban environment and the agricultural fields.8

If no action is taken to the contrary, the stage is set for a repeated ecological super-disaster. Or will support be forthcoming? Will the dams be built, the water supply developed, the trees planted, and a national forest preserve established—a model for the entire Andean coast? Will a grassroots movement, by preventing a disaster, “rescue a city” and contribute positively to its growth?9

A NEW ERA BEGINS, 2006 Dramatic events started occurring towards the end of 2005 and

the beginning of 2006. In October of 2005, the Huarango Group discovered an unlimited source of fresh water inside a nearby abandoned copper mine at the rear of the Cansas Canyon. They began immediately to irrigate the trees by siphoning the mine’s water through rubber pipes downhill to the nursery below. (No pumps or fuel necessary!)

As a result of writing and researching the first draft of this paper, it became clear to this author that the environmental situation in the Ica Valley was indeed in great jeopardy and that a more radical strategy was needed to break the impasse that seemed to have stalled further progress on the Cansas Project. With the encouragement of Dr. Dani Schydlowsky, President of Peru’s Financial Development Corporation (COFIDE), we at PRENDE at the University of Miami, decided to sponsor a day-long conference to be held in a famous resort hotel in Ica. We would invite important government officials from Lima and transport them to Ica, a four-hour drive south of the

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capital, to meet with the Regional President and with local Ica officials, politicians, growers, and environmentalists. The meeting itself was to be facilitated by CODEHICA which was to run the workshop and invite the local participants. The Conference, it was hoped, would put Ica’s precarious environmental situation on the national agenda and highlight the need for immediate action.

The evening meetings began quietly—a banquet, introductions, and a concert of traditional music. But the following morning’s plenary meeting opened dramatically with the Regional President, Sr. Vicente Tello Cespedes, announcing that he would issue a decree declaring a Reforestation Zone in the entire Cansas Canyon. He handed the Huarango Group a draft decree and invited their comments before final publication.

The rest of the day was devoted to Working Groups which designed financial plans, a new legal structure, social sector participation, tourism, and educational outreach. The final result of the Conference was a set of recommendations, creative programs, and commitments made by the 80 participants.10

The Proclamation of the Reforestation Zone in the Cansas Canyon was formally published by the Regional Government on January 30, 2006. The Proclamation, if enforced and upheld by the courts, could arrest further population intrusion onto the flood-plain and the historic path of the mudslides.

On February 2, 2006, the Regional Government also legally “authorized” the Huarango Group to use the water that had been discovered in the abandoned copper mine for irrigation. This legitimized the siphon-pipe technology that had already been operating successfully for several months. The trees are now growing by a centimeter per day, an extraordinary rate, due to constant flow of water from the mine and the brightness of the sun in the valley.

Nature, however, had its own schedule in response to these administrative plans and to the exhilarating “success” of the Conference. On February 6th and 8th , 2006, torrential rains fell in the upper reaches of the Cansas Canyon, pouring hundreds of millions of cubic meters of water down the parched slopes of the Canyon with sufficient force to propel the dry soils, together with the loose boulders in the canyon, into a massive, lava-like mudslide downstream into the Ica Valley.


The three boulder dams that had been constructed in December 2002 and January 2003 at the prodding of the Huarango Group broke the force of the rushing water and formed three huge lagoons or catchment lakes.11 That was the first miracle.

But a larger danger still remained: further rain, even a smaller downpour anywhere in the higher mountains, could result in overfilling the lagoons, bursting the existing dams. The entire canyon would then flood and a devastating mudslide would be set in motion. More dams would have to be built in the Canyon quickly.

The obvious success shown by the dike-and-tree technology should provide proof enough for the Regional Government to hurriedly build more dams similar to the three that had just “saved” the city! But truly shocking were the public statements made by officials, declaring that the solution lay in the older plans of “encasing” the downstream Ica River by building is walls higher with reinforced concrete rather than focus on flood prevention close to the source, that is, in the Cansas Canyon outside Ica.12 Clearly the current emergency and the near-catastrophe were being used to push for a gigantic and ineffective public works project downstream, rather than focus on prevention of flooding upstream. Fortunately, the initial lagoons were able to dissipate their waters before future rains could come. This was the second miracle.

By early March, the Regional Government announced that it does have money in the 2006 budget for flood prevention, but that no construction should be done until the seasonal rains cease! Rather than play Russian roulette with Ica’s population, the Environmental Program (PRENDE) at the University of Miami again decided to act unilaterally and fund emergency dike construction immediately.

Three main questions remain. First, will the Government, which is providing its machinery to build these new dams, allow the construction to begin promptly following the specifications of the earlier dams—that have been shown to be so economical and effective? Second, will further rains come before the old dams can be repaired and the new ones built? Third, will the Peruvian Development Finance Corporation (COFIDE), together with some of the local banking institutions, supplement the University of Miami’s contribution and support the construction of even more dikes in the Canyon on an emergency basis?

To Save a City 157

It is indeed ironic—or perhaps not—that the environmental welfare of a city, indeed, its very survival, depends on prayer, miracles, and the initiative of a small grassroots group to promoting the construction of simple boulder barriers and their tree-anchors in a single canyon outside the city.

Figure 8.3 Panorama of the Cansas Canyon, Ica, Peru Source: Huarango Group, Ica


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NOTES

1. For the “Huarango Team”: Alejandro Pavez Wellmann, Felix Quinteros Ferreyra, and David Bayer.

2. On Ica’s agrarian history, see Ore (2005). On the importance of asparagus and other vegetable exports, see Ministry of Agriculture (2004) and Peruvian Institute for Asparagus (2004) & (2005). On Peru’s role in world trade, see U.S. Department of Agriculture (2005). For journalistic accounts of the agro-export boom, see “Blooming desert” (2005) in the Economist and T. Bridge(2003) in the Miami Herald. For an extensive and privileged virtual tour of vegetable farm operations, see The Eichler Corp Group’s (2004) photo gallery.

3. See “Para proteger el valle de aluviones” (2002, June 7) and Rosales Vargas (2002, November 17).

4. See “Equipo Huarango instala estación meteorológica en Cansas” (2002, December 2).

5. See “El Niño causa alarma” (2003, January 21) and “Para crear defensas naturales” (2003, March 4).

6. See Morales (2003, April 6) on the “oasis” created by the rudimentary dams. See “Hay que cuidar y aprovechar las aguas” (2003, May 7) on water shortages in Ica. For the overall program of preventing mudslides, see Paez Wellmann & Quinteros Ferreya (2003a, December), Bayer, Pavez & Quinteras (2003, December), and Paez & Quinteros (2004, December). For an English-language Power Point illustrated exposition, see Paez & Quinteros (2003b, December). For an archaeological survey of the Cansas Canyon, see Johnson (2003, November). For the role of the University of Miami, see Danton (2004).

7. See “Las quebradas de Ica deben ser una zona natural protegida” (2004, October 10).

8. “Denuncia consejero regional” (2004, April 23). 9. On the growing urgency to expand the water supply, see

Pavez Wellmann (2005, February). 10. See “Alertan peligro en Cansas” (2206, January 10) and

“Piden que Quebrada Cansas sea declarada zona intangible” (2006, January 10).


11. See “Ica en peligro de inundación” (2006, February 9) and

“Huayco crea sensación de peligro en Cansas” (2006, February 9). 12. See “Baja nivel de embalses” (2006, February 10) and “Falta

dinero para construir nuevos diques en Cansas” (2006, February 10).

REFERENCES Alertan peligro en Cansas [Danger Alert in Cansas]. (2006, January 10). La

Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 1. Baja nivel de embalses [Lake levels fall]. (2006, February 10). La Voz de

Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 1. Bayer, D., Pavez, A., & Quinteros, F. (2003, December). Control de

aluviones para prevención de inundaciones mediante enrocados, forestación y manejo ambiental en una cuenca árida: La Quebrada de Cansas en Ica, Perú [Water control for flood prevention through dams, forestation, and environmental management in a dry region: Cansas Canyon in Ica, Peru.] Diálogo Andino, No. 22, 37-49. Electronic version, University of Tarapacá, Arica, Chile. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from www.uta.cl/revista/andino.

Blooming desert (2005, July 7) [Electronic version]. The Economist (U.K.), p. 45. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from www.economist.com.

Bridges, T. (2003, November 24). King of asparagus. Miami Herald, business section, pp. 20-23.

Danton, M. (2004, Spring). Green teams. Miami Magazine, 17-21. Available at http://www.miami.edu/miami-magazine/featurestory2.html.

Denuncia consejero regional: Quebrada Cansas se ha convertido en enorme botadero de basura [Cansas Canyon has been converted into an enormous garbage dump]. (2004, April 23). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p.3.

Eichler Corp Group (2004). Photo gallery of asparagus. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://www.eichlercorp.com.pe/tema01-i.htm.

Equipo Huarango instala estación meteorológica en Cansas [Huarango team installs weather station in Cansas]. (2002, December 2). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p.3.

Food & Agriculture Organization (FAO). (2005). El género prosopis “algarrobos” en America Latina y el Caribe: Distribución, bioecología, usos y manejo. Retrieved October 9, 2005, from http://www.fao.org/ DOCREP/006/AD314S/AD314S08.htm.

Falta dinero para construir nuevos diques en Cansas [Money lacking to construct new dikes in Cansas]. (2006, February 10). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

To Save a City 161

Hay que cuidar y aprovechar las aguas subterraneas [We must preserve and

utilize underground water]. (2003, May 7). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3. Huarango Group. (2002). Grupo Huarango: Registro histórico de

inundaciones y aluviones en el Valle de Ica, October 22, 2002. Unpublished manuscript.

Huarangoica (2005). Full inventory of the Ica Project in Spanish. Available at http://huarangoica.iespana.es/huarangoica/.

Ica en peligro de inundación [Ica in danger of flooding]. (2006, February 9). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 1.

Huayco crea sensación de peligro en Cansas [Mudslide creates sensation of danger in Cansas]. (2006, February 9). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

Johnson, D. (2003, November). Survey of the Ica Valley: Field Report. Unpublished manuscript.

Ministry of Agriculture (Peru). (2004). Información agrícola mensual: campanas 2001/2002 y 2002/2003: Esparrago. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://www.portalagrario.gob.pe/info_agri/infoagricola02.shtml.

Morales, J. (2003, April 6). Un oasis en medio del desierto [An oasis in the midst of the desert]. El Comercio (Lima, Peru).

El Niño causa alarma en Los Molinos y La Tinguina: Dos huaycos caen en Ica [El Niño causes alarm in Los Molinos and La Tinguina: Two mudslides form in Ica]. (2003, January 21). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 1.

Ore, M.T. (2005). Agua: Bien común y usos privados. Riego, Estado y conflictos en la Achirana del Inca [Water: Collective good and private uses. Irrigation, state and conflict in the [Canal of] Achirana of the Inca]. Lima, Peru: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú.

PAHO. Pan American Health Organization. (2000). Peru, Chapter 11, in Crónicas de desastres: Fenómeno El Niño 1997-1998. Washington, D.C., pp. 233-289. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://paho.org/ sapanish/ped/ElNino-cap11-Peru.pdf.

Para crear defensas naturales contra huaycos: Comienza siembra de huarangos en Cansas [To create natural defenses against mudslides: Huarango planting begins in Cansas]. (2003, March 4). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

Para proteger el valle de aluviones: Instituciones insisten que Ica sea declarada en emergencia [To protect the valley from mudslides: Institutions insist that Ica be declared in a state of emergency]. (2002, June 7). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

Pavez Wellmann, A. (2005, February). Conflicto avisado que necesitamos encarar: El agua de Ica se agota [A conflict we must face: Is Ica’s water used up?]. CODEHICA: Revista de la Comisión de Derechos Humanos de Ica, No. 89, pp. 16-18.


Pavez Wellmann, A., & Quinteros Ferreya, F. (2004, December). Los

grandes desafíos y la crisis ambiental de Ica [Great challenges and the environmental crisis in Ica]. CODEHICA: Revista de la Comisión de Derechos Humanos de Ica, No. 88, pp. 4-6.

Pavez Wellmann, A., & Quinteros Ferreya, F. (2003a, December). Como asegurar a Ica contra las inundaciones [How to secure Ica against floods]. In CODEHICA: Revista de la Comisión de Derechos Humanos de Ica, No. 82, pp. 6-8.

Pavez Wellmann, A., & Quinteros Ferreya, F. (2003b, December). Mud flow control for flood prevention with dams, forestation, and environmental management in an arid basin: Cansas Canyon, Ica, Peru. PowerPoint Presentation in English. Retrieved March 19, 2006, from: http://www.cas.usf.edu/GlobalResearch/PDFs/sympII_Weisskoff.pdf.

Peruvian Institute for Asparagus and Other Vegetables [Instituto Peruano del Esparrago y Hortalizas]. (2004, February 26). The Probable Economic Effect of Duty Free Treatment and a U.S. Andean Countries Free Trade Agreement (FTA). Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://www.ipeh.org.

Peruvian Institute for Asparagus and Other Vegetables [Instituto Peruano del Esparrago y Hortalizas]. (2005). Censo nacional de productores y exportadores de esparrago. In Boletín IPEH. Vol. 3, No. 1, p. 11. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://www.ipeh.org.

Piden que Quebrada Cansas sea declarada zona intangible [Ask that Cansas Canyon be declared a special preserve]. (2006, January 10). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

Las quebradas de Ica deben ser una zona natural protegida [The canyons of Ica should be a nature preserve]. (2004, October 10). La Voz de Ica (Ica, Peru), p. 3.

Rosales Vargas, J. (2002, November 17). Specialistas advierten sobre nuevo peligro de inundación [Specialists warn about new flood danger]. El Comercio (Lima, Peru).

U.S. Department of Agriculture. (2005 August). World asparagus situation & outlook. World Horticultural Trade and U.S. Export Opportunities, pp. 1-5. Retrieved October 14, 2005, from http://www.fas.usda.gov/ htp/Commodity_Pages/Vegetables/veg_fresh.html.

Viñe Perez, F. J. (1999). Un caudal de dolor e impotencia: Ica, 29 de enero de 1998 [An abundance of pain and impotence: Ica, January 29, 1998]. Lima, Peru: Edigusa.

9 9

10 Part IV: Natural Resource Use and Policy

9 9 9 Environmental Degradation in a Conservation Model: Major Forest Loss in Costa Rica’s Amistad-Caribe Conservation Area Michael Miller

INTRODUCTION Costa Rica is known globally for its impressive record of

establishing national parks and other types of protected spaces. Largely since the 1970s, that country has developed an impressive system of protected areas, which now covers approximately 28% of the national territory. These areas are diverse in nature, ranging from national parks, biological reserves, national monuments, natural reserves, wildlife refuges, and indigenous reserves that are more strictly protected, to forest reserves and protected zones that are managed to allow greater economic-driven activities, such as wood extraction (Evans, 1999, pp. 7-9). The first major step taken by the Costa Rican government in developing this system was its passage of the Forest Law of 1969, which called for the establishment of protected areas (Asamblea Legislativa, 1969).

In many other instances, however, Costa Rica has had significant difficulties in carrying out its progressive environmental statutes and regulations. In fact, environmental movement leader Alvaro Ugalde described his country as a leader in three things: conservation,

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deforestation (understood as the clearing of forests), and pollution of river systems (A. Ugalde, personal interview, April 19, 2002). Indeed, while a new and improved Forest Law of 1996 intends to better protect forests outside of protected areas, major forest loss is still occurring in several areas of the country.

This chapter examines the causes of the disappearance of a substantial amount of forest in Costa Rica’s Área de Conservación La Amistad-Caribe (ACLAC) (Amistad-Caribe Conservation Area). The ACLAC is one region within a system of “conservation areas” into which the entire territory has been divided, encompassing roughly the southeastern corner of Costa Rica, running north more than halfway up the Caribbean coast and south to the border with Panama, and extending inland to the Talamanca Cordillera. (See Maps 9.1 and 9.2.)

Map 9.1 Location of the ACLAC within Costa Rica’s National System of Conservation Areas Source: Sistema Nacional de Áreas de Conservación (SINAC) (2002)


Costa Rica is widely regarded as providing a “model” for the

developing world on how to design and execute a system of protected areas. This chapter helps to explain why that country has not been able to provide a better example of how to control forest loss outside of such protected spaces. Answering this question points toward what policies might best address this problem, setting the

Map 9.2 Map of Costa Rica with Political Boundaries and Topography Source: Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas (2005)

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country on a course to once again provide a model for other developing countries. As I will explain, however, determining and carrying out these policy reforms will be difficult, as the disappearance of forest in the ACLAC originates in well-embedded conditions: legal loopholes, poverty, insecure land tenure, corruption, budgetary deficiencies, and ineffective judicial procedures.

Before describing the causes of heavy loss of forest in the ACLAC and possible policy remedies, I will briefly describe the methodology, relevant content of the Forest Law of 1996, and the extent and consequences of the forest degradation taking place in this area of the country.

METHODOLOGY The following examination of why substantial deforestation and

thinning are taking place in the ACLAC is based upon qualitative data collected during field research in the region in 2002. I interviewed persons very knowledgeable about the subject, based on their direct involvement in or active observation of the local implementation of the Forest Law of 1996. Because the interviews were intensive, discussions with six such persons provided a large quantity of data. Additionally, interviewing six persons allowed me to gain perspectives from various institutions, including government, local indigenous organizations, and local environmental nongovernmental organizations.

Also indicating the utility of carrying out six interviews, by the last interview much information was being repeated, making identification of key causal factors clear. Basically, I asked informants to identify key actors in the deforestation or heavy thinning of forests in the ACLAC, the nature of their behavior, and important characteristics of the broader political, economic, and social context. To foster open discussion of controversial subjects, such as corruption, these interviewees remain anonymous.

KEY PROVISIONS OF THE FOREST LAW OF 1996 In the ACLAC, substantial forest loss has taken place despite

efforts to check it through invoking the Forest Law of 1996. This law is truly a “sustainable development” policy, as it is aimed not only at protecting the forests, but also fostering economic growth through


support to the forestry sector, social equity through support to campesinos (peasants) involved in forestry, and democracy by creating inclusive policymaking bodies.

Several provisions of this law are most relevant to the goal of protecting forests. For the first time in Costa Rica, Article 19 banned clear-cutting in forests, even for the establishment of forest plantations. However, a loophole in this prohibition is its definition of “forests.” This definition, laid out in Article 3(d), is highly complicated as well as subjective. It requires that trees cover an area of two or more hectares, be mature but of varying ages, be of varying species, have one or more canopies that cover more than 70% of the area, and contain more than sixty trees of fifteen or more centimeters in diameter per hectare (Asamblea Legislativa, 1996, pp. 3883, 3898). Problematically for the goal of environmental protection, clear-cutting is possible where public authorities determine that a particular area does not fall within this definition of forests.

In the case of areas determined to, indeed, be forest, Article 20 explains that logging will be controlled through a permit called a “management plan.” In addition to the ban on clear-cutting, regulations implementing the Forest Law of 1996 dictate the necessary components of a management plan. For instance, explained one interviewee, a management plan must assure that mature trees are left for seeding, trees that are scarce in the area are not extracted, and at least 40 percent of each commercial tree species is left in place. Outside of forests, a management plan is not required.

Article 28 explains that forest plantations as well as “agroforestry systems and trees planted individually” do not require a permit for logging, or for transporting, industrializing, and exporting the wood (Asamblea Legislativa, 1996, pp. 3899, 3905). While agroforestry basically entails the cultivation of crops among trees that might also be harvested, the meaning of “trees planted individually” is much less clear. In practice, Article 28 has been interpreted to broadly exempt areas outside of forests from obtaining the otherwise-required permits. On such lands, only a “forest inventory” must be completed before logging can take place. An interviewee described the forest inventory as simply a declaration of the basic profile of the trees in an area, such as how many trees there are, the species present, and diameter and height of the trees. After

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this document has been developed by a public official, often that official allows extensive logging, and sometime clear-cutting, to take place.

Determining whether an area is a forest is left to two different regulators. Article 21 explains that “forest regents” will be responsible for designing management plans and monitoring their execution. Although not government employees, these professionals in forestry are granted “public faith” to carry out these functions. In practice, this regulator first determines whether the area to be logged is a forest as defined by the Forest Law of 1996. If yes, the forest regent develops a management plan; if not, the forest regent compiles a forest inventory and has greater discretion in determining the amount of logging to be allowed.

As declared in Articles 6(b) and (c), it is still necessary for the Ministerio de Ambiente y Energía (MINAE) (Ministry of Environment and Energy) to approve management plans and help monitor their execution (Asamblea Legislativa, 1996, pp. 3886, 3900). The Sistema Nacional de Áreas de Conservación (SINAC) (National System of Conservation Areas), which forms a part of MINAE, does the legwork. SINAC is the system of conservation regions into which the Costa Rican territory is divided, of which the ACLAC is one regional division. Within the ACLAC, officials at the regional and sub-regional offices approve and oversee the use of management plans.

The Forest Law of 1996 also regulates the transport and processing of wood. As described above, Article 28 declares that no permits are necessary for transporting and industrializing wood originating from forest plantations, agroforestry systems, and other areas outside of forests. In contrast, Article 56 declares that logs and boards originating from forests cannot be transported without proper documentation. More specific requirements for this manifest are dictated through implementing regulations. Article 55 further declares that anyone possessing logs or boards, including wood processors (e.g., sawmills and furniture manufacturers), must be able to show an associated logging permit. Of course, if logs or boards originated in areas outside of forests, then the processor will have no management plan to show authorities. To enforce these requirements, Article 6(g) calls upon MINAE to carry out inspections of wood being transported as well as processed


(Asamblea Legislativa, 1996, pp. 3887, 3927-3928). Once again, these responsibilities have been carried out by functionaries at the ACLAC regional and sub-regional offices. The police also assist in inspecting wood transporters.

MAJOR FOREST LOSS AND ITS CONSEQUENCES In spite of these provisions in the Forest Law of 1996, serious

forest loss is taking place in several areas of Costa Rica. To be sure, the overall deforestation rate in Costa Rica has decreased. A study by the Centro Científico Tropical (CCT) (Tropical Science Center) and the University of Costa Rica estimated that on average 12,000 hectares of forest were lost per year between 1987 and 1997. A follow-up analysis by the CCT and the University of Alberta estimated that, on average between 1997 and 2000, this rate had gone down to 3,000 hectares annually (Laboratorio de Sistemas de Observación Terrestre [EOSL] & Centro Científico Tropical [CCT], 2002, p. 9). Environmental movement leader Alvaro Ugalde named several factors that have been most important in producing this reduction: the fact that not much forest is left in Costa Rica, the shrinkage of the country’s cattle industry, economic incentives for the protection of forests established through the Forest Law of 1996, and an increase in the number of private forest reserves (A. Ugalde, personal interview, April 19, 2002).

Nevertheless, as demonstrated by satellite observation, large areas of forest are disappearing on the Osa Peninsula in the southwest of the country, in the Northern Zone, and in the Atlantic Zone, which includes the ACLAC (Centro Científico Tropical [CCT] & Centro de Investigaciones en Desarrollo Sostenible [CIEDES], 1998, pp. 12, 18; EOSL & CCT, 2002, p. 9). The problem on the Osa Peninsula has received the most attention in recent years, probably because the area harbors great biodiversity. For instance, one study found that mature forests on the Osa Peninsula contain the third highest species richness of 89 areas analyzed throughout the “Neotropics,” which encompass Latin America and the Caribbean (Barrantes et al., 1999, p. 1).

The lands included within the ACLAC also contain a high level of biodiversity. In fact, because of the scenic beauty and scientific value of this biological diversity, La Amistad National Park, located

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in the region, was declared a World Heritage Site. Interviewees explained that deforestation or other serious degradation of forests is occurring at many different sites within this region. However, this environmental damage is concentrated along a forest frontier inland from the Caribbean coast but not yet reaching the higher elevations of the Talamanca Cordillera. Recently, MINAE identified such loss of forests as the greatest threat to forest biodiversity in Costa Rica (Ministerio de Ambiente y Energía [MINAE] and Programa de las Naciones Unidas para el Medio Ambiente [PNUMA], 2002, p. 28).

Additionally, this process has negatively impacted rural communities in the ACLAC. For instance, some logging in this region is taking place illegally in aquifer recharge areas, threatening the supply of drinking water (Jiménez, 2002, p. 16A). Furthermore, an interviewee explained that excessive logging is exacerbating problems caused by banana plantations. Forests near rivers and streams that helped to slow the flow of rainwater into these waterways have been removed. With less buffer, water circulated through banana plantations by their many canals is more quickly reaching waterways, causing them to overflow into nearby communities

Thus, substantial loss of forests in the ACLAC presents serious threats not only to local species and ecosystems, but also to the communities that rely upon these natural systems. The causes of this forest loss are explored below.

BEHIND THE DEFORESTATION AND HEAVY LOGGING The interviewing revealed that the greatest damage to forests in

the ACLAC is taking place on the land of campesinos, or peasants. Generally in Costa Rica, campesinos with land dedicate between 30 and 40% of their plot to subsistence farming (principally the cultivation of beans and corn), another 30 to 40% to commercial farming (principally the cultivation of coffee), and the rest to pasture. Additionally, some engage in forestry (Watson et al., 1998, p. 22).

However, as Seligson (1980) points out, Costa Rica’s peasantry is diverse, including landholders and persons without land: landowners with title, landowners without title, squatters, renters, sharecroppers, steady nonplantation laborers, steady plantation


laborers, day laborers, and migrant workers. The titled landowners are the “elite” among peasants, as they have control over means of production, tenure security, and, although much poorer than most urban Costa Ricans, are significantly better off than the rest of the peasantry.

Nevertheless, the great majority of these landowners with title are smallholders. Specifically, Seligson (1980) found that 53% of titled landowners in Costa Rica hold less than 4 hectares of land, and 81% hold less than 10 hectares. Among landowners not holding title, he found that bills of sale that had not been notarized were the most frequently possessed proof of ownership. Other landowners without a title had no such proof of ownership (pp. 88-91).

Indigenous groups also live in rural sections of the ACLAC. In fact, the Talamanca Cordillera is the home of the majority of Costa Rica’s indigenous population. But in contrast to campesinos, informants agreed that indigenous communities are not significantly degrading forests. Typically indigenous peoples have cleared only small areas for subsistence agriculture and grazing.1

Campesinos and Poverty Key in leading peasants in this region to cut trees on their land is

the fact that many live in poverty. Needing money in the short-term to meet basic needs and having limited options for obtaining such funds, campesino families often resort to felling trees to produce wood for sale and open land for crops and grazing. One interviewee explained that a cause of increased poverty along the Caribbean coast was the devastation of the region’s cacao crop by a disease in the 1980s.2 Cahuita and Puerto Viejo on the southern coast suffered less because of budding tourism. But in other areas where cacao cultivation had played a major economic role, more people resorted to selling the trees on their land or even selling their land to banana companies. Some campesinos attempted to switch to banana cultivation but were often unable to compete with the prices offered by larger banana companies. More recently, banana production has decreased in the ACLAC. As a result, more people in the region are unemployed and likely to fell trees for quick revenue as well as opening space for subsistence farming and ranching.3

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Rural poverty on the eastern side of the Talamanca Cordillera cannot be adequately understood, however, without the longer history of banana cultivation, exploitation, and discrimination. Until the late nineteenth century, the province of Limón was inhabited only by Native American groups. Because coffee, Costa Rica’s chief export, was grown on the eastern slope of the cordillera that runs roughly down the center of the country, it made sense to develop a port on the Caribbean coast and land transportation connecting to the coffee plantations.

In 1871, the Costa Rican national government agreed to a contract with North American Henry Meiggs for the development of a railroad, which was later executed by his nephew Minor Keith. Laying the groundwork for current economic and social conditions in the region, Keith not only developed the railroad and a port in the town of Limón, but also acquired land from the Costa Rican government that he utilized to build a local economy based on large-scale banana cultivation. Construction and operation relied heavily upon migrant labor from the West Indies (Purcell, 1993, pp. 23, 25, 29).

As Seligson (1980) explained, the local banana industry came to form an “enclave economy”:

The means of production were almost totally in the hands of the United Fruit Company: the plantations, roads, railroads, docks, and ships were either owned by, or on 99-year lease to, the Company. Plantations which were not owned by the Company were effectively controlled by it through its monopoly on transportation and exportation. (p. 57)

Further consolidating its power, Keith’s United Fruit Company used various tactics to exploit its workers. For instance, it paid Anglos more than non-Anglos. It suppressed organized opposition by importing labor from different Caribbean islands. It encouraged divisions between Black and Hispanic laborers by using strike breakers of one group to respond to strikes initiated by the other (Purcell, 1993, pp. 30, 32). It also deported foreigners for union organizing or participating in strikes (Bourgois, 1989, p. 215). Also discouraging economic development in the region, each time the company ceased production on infected or exhausted soils, it systematically destroyed the infrastructure it had constructed (railroads, bridges, telephone lines, etc.) to prevent competitors from


being able to renew production on a smaller scale (Bourgois, 1989, p. 8).

The Costa Rican government did not confront the United Fruit Company over such practices because “a conflict with the ‘Frutera’ meant a confrontation with the economic, political, and ultimately military power of the United States--a confrontation which Costa Rica was guaranteed to lose” (Seligson, 1980, p. 58). Furthermore, that company has historically had subsidiaries producing and purchasing bananas in several countries simultaneously, enabling it to pressure governments by threatening to relocate unless it is granted lower taxes and allowed to repress labor (Bourgois, 1989, pp. 19-20).

The precarious nature of this enclave economy was exhibited with the decline of banana cultivation early in the twentieth century, caused by leaf spot diseases, government and public opposition to the United Fruit Company’s discrimination that favored West Indians over Hispanics, and soil exhaustion. The company eventually relocated to Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. Because Blacks were prohibited from moving west beyond the town of Turrialba, many in the province of Limón were left in povery from which they could not escape. In addition to paying wages, the United Fruit Company had provided for basic needs such as housing and health care (Purcell, 1993, pp. 28, 41, 43, 44). It was two decades before the Standard Fruit Company reinitiated large-scale banana production in the region in 1956, when a disease-resistant variety of banana was created (Seligson, 1980, p. 76).

This history of dependence and exploitation of the people and land explains why, even though Limón is once again the site of major banana cultivation and includes Costa Rica’s main commercial port, it remains poor and sparsely populated. Bourgois (1989) provides a vivid description of the substandard living conditions found in a community near the Panamanian border which relies on banana cultivation:

On the Costa Rican side of the border, where I spent most of my time, the stores and restaurants consisted of shanty stalls stretching single file along the muddy road paralleling the railroad that lead to the Panamanian border crossing at the Sixaola Bridge. Behind the shacks, sunken in a mud field, were the zinc-roofed cement structures of two brothels and a dance hall. This shanty town had emerged almost

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overnight in 1978, when the company reopened its abandoned farms on the Costa Rican side of the border. Consequently, there was no provision for sewage or garbage disposal. Not surprisingly, alcoholism, venereal disease, petty crimes, and random violence abounded in this setting. (p. 5)

Campesinos and Insecure Land Tenure Informants explained that insecure land tenure also leads rural

inhabitants in the ACLAC to cut trees. In particular, “precaristas” (squatters) cut trees hoping to be awarded title to a piece of land. Squatters typically invade more attractive land sites, such as areas close to roads. Cutting trees allows them to make some money quickly by selling the wood and also opens up areas for agriculture and cattle-raising, allowing squatters to argue to the government that they should be granted a title because they have “improved” the land. Of course, since these persons do not have title to the land in question, they are cutting the trees illegally.4

One interviewee explained that squatting is a significant social problem in the ACLAC because the area was long characterized by a lack of regulation of land settlement. If someone lived on a piece of land and had developed it, by custom his ownership was respected. Thus, the attitude developed, still strong among squatters, that settlement on undeveloped land is acceptable. In many cases, the persons already living on such lands do not have legal title themselves, making them more vulnerable to ultimately losing their land to squatters.

These conditions are actually national in scope and have been fostered by government policies. Beginning in the early 1900s, as the price of coffee fluctuated and the population grew, agricultural wages decreased and unemployment increased. One response of the Costa Rican government was to create homestead laws that used the public domain lands in rural areas as an escape valve. These laws apparently gave every citizen a right to claim public lands but made no sustained effort to keep track of land grants. Most settlers never bothered to petition under the laws for more secure ownership. The vast majority of settlers believed that the right to claim land in the public domain also entailed having full ownership of the land, at least when it came to lands they had developed. Also most settlers were ignorant of titling rules or, even when they knew about them,


found it inconvenient to travel to the capital of San José to carry out complicated procedures (Saenz & Knight, 1971, part II, pp. 6-8).5

Exploiting the “Socolar” Loophole Driven by poverty, insecure land tenure, and other factors,

campesinos in the ACLAC often clear trees by way of a process interviewees explained as “socolar.” They begin by grubbing out the “sotobosque,” or the shorter and less thick vegetation surrounding large trees that are attractive for logging. Subsequently, they often plant beans, banana, and plantains or graze cattle within the space that has been opened.

Once a forest has been transformed into “arboles en potrero” (trees in pasture) or an agroforestry area, if one has title to the land in question then clear-cutting is legal under the Forest Law of 1996. As explained earlier, this law prohibits clearing areas within forests. However, because its definition of forests is highly complicated and subjective, it is comparatively easy to convince forest regents and ACLAC officials that an area is not a forest. In such an area, only a forest inventory is necessary, the degree of logging is left more to the discretion of the forest regent and government officials, and clear-cutting is possible. This situation has likely contributed to the fact that, in both 2001 and 2002, a larger portion of the wood extracted in Costa Rica derived from agricultural and ranching lands than from forests (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2002, p. 213; Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2003, p. 242).

According to one informant, peasants are generally aware that eliminating the sotobosque may lead in turn to permission to log more extensively. However, another interviewee did not attribute such foresightedness to the peasants; rather they clear out the underbrush primarily to enable agroforestry and ranching.

Because clearing out sotobosque can lead to heavier logging, obstructing a major goal of the Forest Law of 1996, government officials have attempted to check this activity. Campesinos have responded by using various tactics to avoid detection. Interviewees explained that a common ploy is to clear away the vegetation surrounding trees during holidays and weekends when there are fewer enforcement officials on patrol.6 The informants also agreed

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that a major barrier to better control to this activity is that SINAC has insufficient officials, vehicles, and funds.

The Role of “Madereros” and Forest Regents Madereros are small logging and wood transporting companies,

typically only owning one or two trucks and a tractor. As a result of the process described above, often when “madereros” (loggers) approach campesinos and offer to cut their trees, the land in question already includes pasture or agroforestry areas where logging can take place with only a forest inventory and where clear-cutting might be possible. However, one interviewee claimed that these loggers sometimes press campesinos to clear more sotobosque and also pressure landowners to allow more logging than they desire. While a landowner with 200 hectares of land might have hoped to log on only 80 hectares, the maderero might refuse to buy the landowner’s trees unless he permits logging on the entire 200 hectares. Furthermore, madereros often underpay peasants for their wood. The advantage to the maderero is obvious: logging more extensively in fewer locations lowers their expenses, and paying less for wood increases their profit.

Lowering the leverage of peasants in such situations is the fact that they often do not have the necessary equipment or time to cut their trees and take them to market and that they can seldom “shop” for more favorable terms with other madereros. Thus, peasant families have little choice but to give in to such offers.

Interviewees agreed that madereros have taken advantage of the campesinos’ economic need in the ACLAC to clear trees, reinforced by insecure land tenure. Making the maderero’s offer very attractive is the fact that, in addition to buying the wood they will extract, they are also typically willing to pay for all the necessary bureaucratic licenses. For instance, the maderero will likely offer to pay for the development of a management plan or forest inventory by a forest regent and for the campesino’s land title. Once again, this situation works to the advantage of the maderero in pressuring forest regents to allow heavier logging. First, madereros can argue that they are paying for the forest regent’s services and that the forestry engineer should therefore accommodate their requests. Second, madereros can threaten to switch to the services of a more cooperative forest regent.


In 2002 there were 482 licensed forest regents in Costa Rica (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2003, p. 244). Naturally, madereros usually continue a relationship with more accommodating regents. Third, madereros sometimes bribe forest regents in exchange for having them identify areas targeted for logging as pasture or agroforestry. However, because of the elimination of sotobosque, the targeted area has already been converted into pasture or agroforestry. In any case, once an area has been determined to not be a forest according to the law, madereros have then pressured forest regents to allow heavy logging following the development of a forest inventory. One interviewee contended that, although forest regents only rarely allow clear-cutting under such circumstances, they do commonly allow for more than 60 percent of trees to be eliminated.

In addition to improperly classifying target areas as non-forest, forestry engineers and madereros have engaged in other illegal activities. For example, an interviewee explained that sometimes forest regents design logging permits that misidentify tree species (thus allowing protected species to be cut) and that mislocate trees (thus allowing trees in off-limit areas, such as river banks, to be logged). Additionally, sometimes madereros violate legally sound logging permits. One interviewee explained that a maderero holding a valid permit will also log beyond its geographic limits, log too close to a river, or cut more trees than the permit allows. One informant emphasized, however, that such permit violations are uncommon.7

Whatever their relative importance, these various forms of illegal logging together account for a substantial amount of the total logging in the ACLAC. In a recent study, researchers at the Centro Agronómico Tropical de Investigación y Enseñanza (CATIE) (Tropical Agricultural Research and Higher Education Center) found that in the ACLAC, as well as in the Área de Conservación Tortuguero (ACTO) (Tortuguero Conservation Area) to the north, illegal logging accounted for about 37% of all logging--the highest rate among all the conservation areas studied (CATIE, 2001, p. 26).

Corruption, Lack of Resources, and Other Barriers The clearing of sotobosque, classifying lands that are clearly

covered in forest as pasture or agroforestry areas, other forms of

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illegal activity, and heavy legal logging under forest inventories have all taken place during the watch of MINAE, specifically its officials at the regional and sub-regional offices of the ACLAC. These officials are responsible both for approving or denying the permitting decisions of forest regents and for helping these forestry professionals monitor the subsequent logging.

The interviewees indicate that corruption is one factor leading these enforcement officials to allow a greater degree of logging. A common form of corruption is an official in the ACLAC who approves an inadequate forest inventory or approves management plans that allow illegal logging. Interviewees explained that, while sometimes public functionaries are bribed (with the compensation usually coming from madereros), friendship networks are also very important in facilitating corruption. According to one interviewee, a strong compadre relationship may develop between ACLAC functionaries, forest regents, and persons working for maderero companies, who are all active in the same geographic area. These individuals interact closely and frequently and have sometimes known one another since school days and may socialize (“sometimes close enough to go out together for drinks”). As another source of corruption, one interviewee asserted that deputies in Costa Rica’s Legislative Assembly supportive of madereros have pressured leaders at MINAE to reduce enforcement efforts in the field.

Several other factors help explain why officials in the ACLAC have allowed so much logging in recent years. One informant emphasized that many MINAE employees have a “forestry mentality,” as they have an employment or educational background in this field. Another informant explained that, because the Forest Law of 1996 grants authority to forest regents to design logging permits, SINAC functionaries do not always do field inspections of planned logging sites. Finally, ACLAC regional and sub-regional offices have insufficient funds, employees, and equipment. One informant stated that a sub-regional office might be responsible for many remote logging sites spread out across a large area. And controlling logging is just one of the many responsibilities of such government officials.

Carlos Rodríguez, Minister of MINAE, agreed that the most important cause of illegal logging in Costa Rica is weak enforcement capacity. He emphasized that corruption occurs only “here and


there” within MINAE, ironically because its enforcement ability is so weak that it is not necessary to bribe its officials. Rodríguez added, “We have one of the least trained, least prepared enforcement units you could ever find in any country” (C. Rodríguez, personal interview, May 19, 2002). Similarly, the director of the Área de Conservación Arenal-Huetar Norte (ACA-HN) (Arenal-Huetar Norte Conservation Area) located in the Northern Zone identified insufficient enforcement capacity as the primary reason for illegal logging in that conservation area. He complained of insufficient enforcement personnel, especially at night and during holidays when such crimes are usually committed (Quesada, 2002, p. 4). In the Área de Conservación Osa (ACOSA) (Osa Conservation Area), the problem is similar: “There are only twenty vehicles, but only ten of them work; there is not enough gasoline, or personnel” (Calderón, 2001, p. 8A).

According to researchers at Costa Rica’s Proyecto Estado de la Nación (State of the Nation Project), the most important obstacle to SINAC’s functioning in general is its insufficient budget. Compounding this agency’s financial strain is the fact that funds must be diverted to pay persons whose land was appropriated to become part of protected areas. When it comes to national parks, biological reserves and national monuments, the government owes these landowners approximately US$55 million (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2004, pp. 251-252). According to the Forest Law of 1996, some of the revenues from a tax on wood sales are supposed to be devoted to enforcement, but apparently this tax has not been collected because of vague provisions in the law (Murillo, 1999, p. 4A). Further still, the secretary general of the Workers Union at MINAE claimed that, not only has the budget for SINAC been decreasing, but also most of the funds provided to this system have gone toward administrative expenses, leaving only 40% of the budget for enforcement (Martínez, 1999, p. 4A).

Problems within SINAC itself might also be responsible for fewer resources being devoted to enforcement. A study by the Contraloría General de la República (Comptroller General of the Republic) of financial management within SINAC in 1999 and 2000 revealed important deficiencies, most notably inadequate data management and coordination between the multiple components of this large bureaucracy (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2003, p. 228).

182 Michael Miller

Problems during Transporting and Processing Government officials have also had a difficult time controlling

the transport of illegally logged wood. Informants said that wood from the ACLAC is transported to towns within the region, such as Limón, Siquirres, Cahuita and Puerto Viejo, as well as to San José. Madereros often transport illegal wood at night, on weekends, or during holidays when there are fewer police on the roads. MINAE banned the transport of wood during the night (Herrera, 2002, 4A), but an informant contended that this rule was not being well implemented because many police officers were not aware of it.8 Additionally, corruption sometimes plays a role. For instance, an interviewee explained that madereros pay police at checkpoints to allow the passage of wood not accompanied by a proper manifest. Another informant asserted that madereros use “recycled” manifests that apply to wood moved in the past. For this strategy, the manifest cannot have been stamped at police checkpoints. Thus, the maderero must transport wood at night when checkpoints are not operating, bribe the police, or simply be on friendly terms with police officers. Further still, it was explained that in some cases SINAC officials have provided extra manifests to madereros.

According to interviewees, wood extracted from the ACLAC is mostly sold to sawmills, depositories, and furniture manufacturers. Madereros are in a much less advantageous position with these processors and depositories than they are with campesinos, regents, and sometimes government officials. Madereros seek to sell their wood as quickly as possible because they need to empty their one or two trucks so they can return to the forests and pick up more wood. As a result, madereros may feel compelled to accept lower prices offered by processors. Wood industries are also empowered when madereros attempt to sell illegal wood. Processors often demand a lower price because of the risk involved in using such wood.

Impunity: An Overarching Problem Finally, interviewees agreed that all of those complicit in illegal

logging, transport, and processing have been emboldened by the lack of enforcement. First, court proceedings are long and expensive, discouraging the government from prosecuting. Second, they reported that landowners can avoid guilt by claiming ignorance of a


maderero’s illegal acts. The maderero can in turn argue the same regarding a contracted logger, and this sequence continues until the prosecution gives up, especially when someone who is named cannot be found or who is believed to have moved to another country. Third, the penalties in the Forest Law of 1996 are weak. Fourth, many judges are not very environmentally conscious. It comes as no surprise, then, that around 95% of accusations about violations of the Forest Law of 1996 are unsuccessful (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2003, p. 244).

ADDRESSING STRUCTURAL PROBLEMS AND THE PROMISE OF MARKET-BASED STRATEGIES

In sum, the key causes of deforestation and heavy logging in the ACLAC are poverty among campesinos, their insecure land tenure, corruption among government officials and forest regents, lack of sufficient enforcement funds, loopholes in the Forest Law of 1996, and ineffective judicial procedures. One general conclusion is that the primary engines of deforestation in Costa Rica appear to have evolved over time.

To be sure, certain causes appear well-entrenched. Brockett and Gottfried studied the command and control methods utilized to protect forests in Costa Rica in the 1970s and ’80s and found that field personnel lacked the resources and knowledge to carry out effective enforcement. Furthermore, one of their informants commented that most landowners did not want to deal with the Dirección General Forestal (DGF) (General Forestry Directorate) (later incorporated into SINAC) because of excessive bureaucracy and corruption. Another informant complained that DGF field personnel were not dedicated to that agency’s mission; low salaries, among other problems, encouraged corruption, which was as much a cause of illegal logging as the actions of landowners and loggers (Brockett & Gottfried, 2002, pp. 17-18). Also mirroring the findings documented in this chapter, Brockett and Gottfried (2002) found:

The difficulty of obtaining plans and permits has led landholders to rely often on loggers, who frequently have drawn up fraudulent management plans or bribed officials to obtain permits. The loggers set the terms of the contract, paying a low price to owners, and only for the wood they actually put on their truck (usually much less than what was

184 Michael Miller

cut). The loggers extract only the best wood, “high-grading” the stands, and they often leave a heavily damaged forest behind. (p. 18)

However, the role of logging vis-à-vis agriculture appears to have increased over time. In contrast to this chapter’s finding that, in the ACLAC, since the late 1990s logging has been of central importance to deforestation and other degradation of forests, Brockett and Gottfried concluded that in Costa Rica deforestation has clearly been driven by the demand for more agricultural land rather than a demand for timber. Until the 1980s, most forests were cleared for ranching, which requires large tracts of land. Subsequently, as ranching began to pose less of a threat to forests, pressure from banana cultivation increased (Brockett & Gottfried, 2002, p. 16).9 Furthermore, campesinos now seem to play a more important role in deforestation. According to one study in the 1980s, campesinos cutting trees to meet basic needs were much less significant than larger-scale business interests engaged in ranching, coffee production, and wood extraction (Porras & Villarreal, 1986, pp. 12-13).

Another general conclusion emerging from this analysis is that, in order to more effectively carry out the Forest Law of 1996, it will be necessary to tackle structural problems. Poverty, insecure land tenure, corruption, lack of sufficient funds, legal loopholes, and ineffective judicial procedures have led to heavy and sometimes illegal logging in the ACLAC. While the Forest Law of 1996 might be changed relatively quickly, the other problems are deeply ingrained and can be significantly reduced only over the longer term.

Considering these very formidable barriers to improved execution in the ACLAC of restrictions in the Forest Law of 1996, perhaps holding more promise in the short to medium term for controlling forest loss is a market-based approach rather than a command and control one. In the Forest Law of 1996 itself, the “pago de servicios ambientales” (payment for environmental services) (PSA) offers economic incentives for forest conservation, sustainable logging and reforestation. More specifically, the PSA program compensates the owners of forests who protect them or “manage” them (by logging them in a sustainable manner), and compensates the owners of forest plantations. This compensation is payment for their performing the “environmental services” of


sequestering greenhouse gas and harboring biodiversity (Asamblea Legislativa, 1996).

There is, in fact, strong evidence that this incentive scheme is useful in slowing forest loss. Between 1997 and 2001, this program provided financing to 4,461 persons, amounting to coverage of 284,430 hectares (MINAE & PNUMA, 2002, p. 137). Awardees were larger as well as smaller landholders, some involved in logging and others simply preserving their forests. In reference to recent forest cover studies indicating that net forest loss has finally stopped in Costa Rica, government officials argued that this incentive scheme has played a central role by encouraging increased preservation of forests as well as reforestation on private lands (Fondo Nacional de Financiamiento Forestal [FONAFIFO], 2002, p. 16).

Carlos Rodríguez of MINAE and environmental movement leader Alvaro Ugalde agreed. They contended that, although deforestation continues in Costa Rica, the annual rate has been decreasing in recent years, and this economic incentive has encouraged more people to maintain rather than to destroy their forests (C. Rodríguez, personal interview, May 16, 2002; A. Ugalde, personal interview, April 19, 2002). Illustrating how the PSA has reached the rural poor, between 1997 and 2001 indigenous communities received more than 221 million Costa Rican colones through this scheme (FONAFIFO, 2002, p. 74). According to the exchange rate of 360 colones per U.S. dollar, which was the case approximately midway through the following year of 2002, this amounted to roughly US$614,000. In some cases, this financial assistance was crucial for families in these communities, as it was their primary source of income (FONAFIFO, 2002, p. 23).

Thus, while the structural barriers to improved regulation of forestry in the ACLAC might only be surmounted in the longer term, in the meantime, a useful way of suppressing forest loss would be to boost application of the PSA in that region. Paying campesinos to preserve the forest or to log in a sustainable manner helps to stop at its source the chain of events described earlier. At the same time, this market-based approach still encourages the development of the forestry sector, which has important values of its own.10

Costa Rica has provided a model for the rest of the developing world on how to successfully develop parks and other protected areas. Similarly, the strategy just outlined might provide a useful

186 Michael Miller

model for other developing countries on how to better control forest loss on private lands. Indeed, the causes of forest loss vary widely across space and time. For instance, while logging operations have played a major role in deforestation in Southeast Asia and West Africa, they have recently played a minor part in Latin America, where an expansion in cattle ranching explains much of the recent increase in deforestation (Rudel & Horowitz, 1993, p. 2).

There is still much in common, though, between the causes of deforestation in the ACLAC and those elsewhere in the developing world. Peasants have cleared large amounts of forest in Latin America as well as Asia and Africa, and poverty has been a key motive (Dudley, Guilmour, & Jeanrenaud, 1996, p. 11; Rudel & Horowitz, 1993, p. 2). In particular, in recent decades the landless poor have increased dramatically in tropical countries, leading to increased colonization of forested areas (Johnson & Cabarle, 1995, p. 9). In the Peruvian Amazon, an average of 350,000 hectares of forest is cleared per year through shifting agriculture by migrants, who have come to the area primarily to escape impoverishment in the Andean highlands (Bedoya Garland, 1995, pp. 218-219, 222).

Of course, it would be difficult to follow the strategy recommended for Costa Rica in other developing countries. In addition to the difficulty of carrying out major reforms aimed at reducing poverty and addressing other structural problems, implementing a PSA-like program would probably prove challenging. As Brockett and Gottfried (2002) explained, “Market alternatives traditionally have been denigrated in Latin America, not only because of the underdevelopment of markets and the region’s statist heritage, but because of a generalized distrust of capitalism” (Brocket & Gottfried, 2002, p. 22).

NOTES 1. The two largest indigenous groups in the region, the Bribri

and Cabécar, are described as practicing agriculture that is itinerant and allowing cultivated areas to lay fallow, as well as carrying out small-scale cattle grazing, hunting, fishing, and gathering (Borge & Villalobos, 1994, p. 16).

2. Following this outbreak of the monilia fungus, cacao has only been cultivated to a limited extent, such as organic production on a small scale in Limón Province’s cantones (counties) of Limón and


Talamanca (Junta de Administración Portuaria y de Desarrollo Económico de la Vertiente Atlántica [JAPDEVA], 2000, p. 77). The ACLAC accounts for a large part of the province of Limón, which is one of several provinces into which Costa Rica is divided.

3. In 1997, the unemployment rate in the province of Limón was higher than the national average (7.2% in comparison to 5.8%) (JAPDEVA, 2000, p. 71).

4. According to the Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario (IDA) (Agrarian Development Institute), in the Caribbean region 42 squatter groups recently invaded 8,869 hectares. There were 26 landless groups with the potential to settle an estimated 5,041 hectares (JAPDEVA, 2000, p. 87).

5. According to one inhabitant of coastal Talamanca, Alphaeus Buchanan, members of his community could not afford the services of lawyer to obtain a title. Furthermore, in the past, lawyers had convinced community members who were unable to read Spanish to sign documents in that language that caused them to lose their property (Palmer, 1994, p. 310).

6. Peasants often begin these activities farthest from roads and paths where patrolling takes place. Landowners also avoid using loud machinery. Furthermore, the vegetation surrounding trees is commonly cut very slowly, and clippings are cut into small pieces so that they will decay more quickly in the humid climate. In order to make clippings disappear faster, sometimes they are burned or covered with a poison. Additionally, poison is placed directly on larger trees in an effort to dry out their canopies, which will allow more light to pass through. With increased light, lower vegetation adapted to shade slowly dies away.

7. Finally, logging sometimes takes place without a management plan or forest inventory. The interview data point toward the conclusion that, for the most part, this type of illegal logging is carried out by campesinos felling a small number of trees. Peasants cut trees without a management plan or forest inventory because they are not aware of this requirement or because they are not able to obtain the necessary land title and cannot find a maderero willing to log without a management plan or inventory.

8. Additionally, illicit wood is moved in banana trucks with a layer of bananas on top, is covered with a concealing layer of sand in dump trucks, or is hidden in enclosed trucks. One informant only

188 Michael Miller

partly in jest suggested that illegal wood might be hidden in a truck labeled “Galletas Pozuelo,” which is a popular cookie. Furthermore, wood types that are not authorized in the manifest are often included on logging trucks, but many police are not able to distinguish among different types of wood.

9. In Central America as a whole, the cattle sector has been in a crisis since the early 1980s. Edelman (1995) explains the relative decline in the importance of ranching for deforestation comes as a result not just of decreased demand for beef in the United States, but also because of many other factors originating both in the United States and Central America. For instance, in the late 1970s the U.S. government discouraged beef imports by decreasing import quotas during expansive phases of the U.S. cattle cycle. Also burdening beef producers in Costa Rica was unprecedented inflation in the early 1980s that led to a steep rise in interest rates (pp. 27, 29, 31).

10. According to recent assessments, in Costa Rica there are 7,280 businesses directly or indirectly linked to the forestry sector, entailing 48,000 jobs (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2004, pp. 271-272). This sector also contributes approximately 5% of the gross domestic product (Proyecto Estado de la Nación, 2003, p. 241).

REFERENCES Asamblea Legislativa. (1969). Ley Forestal (Colección de Leyes, Decretos,

Acuerdos y Resoluciones, II Semestre, I Tomo). San José, Costa Rica: Departamento de Archivo, Investigación y Trámite.

Asamblea Legislativa. (1996). Ley Forestal No. 7575 (Expediente No. 11.003). San José, Costa Rica: Departamento de Archivo, Investigación y Trámite.

Barrantes, G., Jiménez, Q., Lobo, J., Maldonado, T., Quesada, M., & Quesada, R. (1999). Evaluación de los planes de manejo forestal autorizados en el periódo 1997-1999 en la Península de Osa: Cuplimiento de normas técnicas, ambientales e impacto sobre del bosque natural. Puerto Jiménez, Costa Rica: Fundación Cecropia.

Bedoya Garland, E. (1995). The social and economic causes of deforestation in the Peruvian Amazon Basin: Natives and colonists. In M. Painter & W. H. Durham (Eds.), The social causes of environmental destruction in Latin America (pp. 217-248). Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Borge, C., & Villalobos, V. (1994). Talamanca en la encrucijada. San José, Costa Rica: Editorial Universidad Estatal a Distancia.


Bourgois, P. I. (1989). Ethnicity at work: Divided labor on a Central American banana plantation. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Brockett, C. D., & Gottfried, R. R. (2002). State policies and the preservation of forest cover: Lessons from contrasting public-policy regimes in Costa Rica. Latin American Research Review, 37(1), 7-40.

Calderón, M. (2001, March 2). Miseria en control de bosques. Al Día, p. 8A.

Centro Agronómico Tropical de Investigación y Enseñanza (CATIE). (2001). La tala ilegal en Costa Rica: Un análisis para la discusión. Turrialba, Costa Rica: CATIE.

Centro Científico Tropical (CCT) & Centro de Investigaciones en Desarrollo Sostenible (CIEDES). (1998). Estudio de cobertura forestal actual (1996/97) y de cambio de cobertura para el período entre 1986/87 y 1996/97 para Costa Rica. San José, Costa Rica: CCT & CIEDES.

Dudley, N., Guilmour, D., & Jeanrenaud, J. P. (1996). Bosques para la vida: Documento de políticas forestales del WWF y la UICN. Godalming, UK: World Wildlife Fund.

Edelman, M. (1995). Rethinking the hamburger thesis: Deforestation and the crisis of Central America’s beef exports. In M. Painter & W. H. Durham (Eds.), The social causes of environmental destruction in Latin America (pp. 25-62). Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Evans, S. (1999). The green republic: A conservation history of Costa Rica. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Fondo Nacional de Financiamiento Forestal (FONAFIFO). (2002). El rostro ambiental de Costa Rica. San José, Costa Rica: FONAFIFO.

Herrera, M. (2002, June 6). Gobierno pone freno a minería. La Nación, p. 4A.

Jiménez, Q. (2002, August 7). Lucrarse dos veces con bosques. La Nación, p. 16A.

Johnson, N., & Cabarle, B. (1995). Sobreviviendo a la tala: Manejo del bosque natural en los trópicos húmidos. San José, Costa Rica: World Resources Institute & Consejo Centroamericano de Bosques y Áreas Protegidas, Comisión Centroamericana de Ambiente y Desarrollo.

Junta de Administración Portuaria y de Desarrollo Económico de la Vertiente Atlántica (JAPDEVA). (2000). Limón hacia el siglo XXI: Potencialidades y oportunidades para el desarrollo humano, documento i, conceptualización y diagnóstico. San José, Costa Rica: Imprenta Nacional.

Laboratorio de Sistemas de Observación Terrestre (EOSL) & Centro Científico Tropical (CCT). (2002). Estudio de cobertura forestal de

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Costa Rica con imágines LANDSAT TM 7 para el año 2000. San José, Costa Rica: EOSL & CCT.

Martínez, R. (1999, June 12). Falta de dinero ahoga áreas de protección. El Heraldo, p. 4A.

Ministerio de Ambiente y Energía (MINAE) & Programa de las Naciones Unidas para el Medio Ambiente (PNUMA). (2002). GEO Costa Rica: Una perspectiva sobre el medio ambiente: 2002. San José, Costa Rica: MINAE & PNUMA.

Murillo, K. (1999, November 7). Aumenta tala ilegal en Costa Rica. La Republica, p. 4A.

Palmer, P. (1994). Wa’ apin man: La historia de la Costa Talamanqueña de Costa Rica, según sus protagonistas. San José, Costa Rica: Editorial de la Universidad de Costa Rica.

Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas. (2005). Costa Rica. Retrieved on January 5, 2006, from http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/americas/costa_rica.gif.

Porras, A., & Villarreal, B. (1986). Deforestación en Costa Rica: Implicaciones sociales, económicas y legales. San José, Costa Rica: Editorial Costa Rica.

Proyecto Estado de la Nación. (2002). Estado de la nación en desarrollo humano sostenible. Pavas, Costa Rica: Programa Estado de la Nación.



Purcell, T. (1993). Banana fallout: Class, color, and culture among West Indians in Costa Rica. Los Angeles, CA: Center for Afro-American Studies Publications, University of California, Los Angeles.

Quesada, G. (2002, March/April). Talas aumentan en verano. San Carlos al Día, p. 4.

Rudel, T. K., & Horowitz, B. (1993). Tropical deforestation: Small farmers and land clearing in the Ecuadorian Amazon. New York: Columbia University Press.

Saenz, P. C., & Knight, C. F. (1971). Tenure security, land titling, and agricultural development in Costa Rica. San José, Costa Rica: University of Costa Rica School of Law Agrarian Law Project.

Seligson, M. (1980). Peasants of Costa Rica and the development of agrarian capitalism. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.

Sistema Nacional de Áreas de Conservación (SINAC). (2002). Áreas silvestres protegidas. Retrieved on January 5, 2006, from http://www. sinac.go.cr/ asp/index.html.


Watson, V., Cervantes, S., Castro, C., Mora, L., Solís, M., Porras, I., et al. (1998). Abriendo espacio para una mejor actividad forestal. San José, Costa Rica: Centro Científico Tropical (CCT).

ACRONYMS ACA-HN Área de Conservación Arenal-Huetar Norte (Arenal-

Huetar Norte Conservation Area)

ACLAC Área de Conservación La Amistad-Caribe (Amistad-Caribe Conservation Area)

ACOSA Área de Conservación Osa (Osa Conservation Area)s

ACTO Área de Conservación Tortuguero (Tortuguero Cons-ervation Area)

CATIE Centro Agronómico Tropical de Investigación y En-señanza (Tropical Agricultural Research and Higher Education Center)

CCT Centro Científico Tropical (Tropical Science Center)

DGF Dirección General Forestal (General Forestry Directorate)

IDA Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario (Agrarian Development Institute)

MINAE Ministerio de Ambiente y Energía (Ministry of Environment and Energy)

PSA pago de servicios ambientales (payment for environ-mental services)

SINAC Sistema Nacional de Áreas de Conservación (National System of Conservation Areas)

10. 10 10 The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama (Darién Province): Unsustainable Harvest of a Valuable Export Product and Its Limited Impact on Local Community Development1 Daniel Suman

The eastern region of Panama (east of Panama City to the Colombian border) has only recently been connected to the national highway system. However, the Pan-American Highway ends in Darién Province about 58 km from the Colombian border, and many small communities in that province are poorly integrated with Panama’s urban core. This region is Panama’s remaining “frontier” area with some of the lowest social indicators in the country.

Despite this isolation, commodities from eastern Panama enter global markets, and the region is not as isolated as it appears to be at first glance. Today, shrimp provide the primary link between coastal Darién fishing communities and the world. The high value of prawns on the world market insulates the village residents from extreme poverty. However, the sustainability of this fishery is in question, due to the increasing numbers of small-scale or “artisanal” fishers and their vessels, the use of illegal fishing methods, increasingly sophisticated trawling technologies, the deforestation of the Gulf of San Miguel watershed, and weak enforcement capabilities of government authorities. The shrimp fishery is a textbook case of

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 193 globalization in which the cause—the market-driven consumption of the resource in rich countries—is separated from the environmental and social outcomes of resource extraction in poorer countries (Dietz, Ostrom, & Stern, 2003). The profit-drive demand for this product completely overwhelms efforts to create a sustainable community-based fishery.

This paper examines the sustainability of this fishery which is an important source of revenue for Panama. It also describes a paradox: Although the highest shrimp landings come from eastern Panama, its coastal villages are among the poorest in the country. Resource abundance does not necessarily translate into high social quality of life indicators.

DESCRIPTION OF EASTERN PANAMA The Eastern Tropical Pacific (ETP) is a biogeographical

province defined by climate and sea surface temperatures and, subsequently, by species of fish and invertebrates. Extending from Baja California, Mexico, to northern Peru, the ETP is comprised of seven biogeographical regions with common coastal geomorphologies and oceanic and climatic conditions and events. One of these seven regions, the Panama Bight, extends 4,200 km along the coastline from Panama to Ecuador and includes the Gulf of Panama and oceanic areas of Colombia and Ecuador. It displays a complex oceanography, high rainfall, high fresh-water runoff, important upwelling areas, high productivity, and numerous large estuaries with important mangrove areas (Forsbergh, 1969). More than 40% of the mangrove forests in the ETP grow in the Panama Bight region.

As defined for this chapter, “Eastern Panama” includes the Pacific coastal areas from the northernmost reaches of the Gulf of Panama, extending southeast more than 250 km to the Colombian border. (See Map 10.1.) This region possesses similar environmental and socio-cultural characteristics and falls politically into the eastern portion of Panama Province and Darién Province.

This coastal region is marked by numerous rivers—among them Panama’s largest (the Tuira/Chucunaque River basin) in Darién Province—and the Bayano River in Panama Province. The coastline from the Bayano River eastward is low in elevation and supports broad

194 Daniel Suman

mangrove forests and mud flats for 80 km east to the rocky Brujas Peninsula that ends in Punta San Lorenzo.

Panama’s largest estuary, the Gulf of San Miguel, extends inland between Punta San Lorenzo in the north and Punta Garachiné in the south. The opening of the gulf between the two points is 30 km. The Gulf of San Miguel, a large estuary with an area of approximately 1,760 km2, is relatively shallow (although the deep channel reaches 40 meters depth in places). This exceptionally dynamic estuary is a complex system of rivers, deltas, mudflats, freshwater wetlands, and extensive mangrove forests. The daily tidal amplitude reaches up to four or five meters. The dry/humid seasonal cycle follows the movement of the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). While the first three months of the year are drier, the annual rainy season may bring more than a meter of precipitation in Gulf of San Miguel coastal locations and up to four or five meters in the adjacent mountains. Additionally, the inter-annual variability caused by ENSO (El Niño-Southern Oscillation) results in significant oceano-

Garachiné

Gulf of San Miguel

Jaqué .

. Tuira River. Yaviza

Los KatíosNational Park

Darien National Park

Map 10.1 Map of Eastern Panama and the Darien Region. Source: Microsoft MapPoint, 2005

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 195 graphic and climatic shifts in the gulf. Besides the temporal variability, the gulf experiences great spatial variability resulting from the mixing of great volumes of fresh water and salt water.

The Gulf of San Miguel watershed (14,877 km2) is the largest in area in the Gulf of Panama (33,828 km2). Moreover, 45.2% of the precipitation in the Gulf of Panama watershed falls in the Gulf of San Miguel’s drainage area. The principal rivers of Darién Province (including Panama’s largest river, the Tuira River with its average annual discharge of 29.2 km3) flow into the Gulf of San Miguel.

The coastline extends 130 km from Punta Garachiné southeast to the Colombian border. This is an active coastline fully exposed to the Pacific Ocean. The continental shelf is narrow, extending only between 5 and 40 km. from the coastline in this zone. The Serranía del Sapo (Sapo Range), reaching a maximum height of 1,581 meters, runs parallel to the coastline, and its forested slopes plunge into the ocean.

Eastern Panama is undergoing rapid social change. The Pan-American Highway west of Chepo was completed to Yaviza, Darién, in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Eastern Panama Province and western Darién Province have been sites of active colonization since that time with the construction of secondary access roads. In the past 25 years, most of the original tropical forest has been logged and the area converted to grasslands to support extensive cattle ranching. The population has greatly increased but still remains low in comparison to other rural areas of Panama. Small coastal villages are generally not connected to the road system and retain their traditional dependence on maritime transportation links.

Cultural diversity also characterizes the region. Native peoples (Emberá, Wounaan, and Kuna) have traditionally lived along the rivers and today have significant control over some of their traditional lands thanks to official recognition of comarcas (government-recognized traditional lands that have some degree of political autonomy). “Afro-Colombianos” and “Afro-Darienitas” comprise an additional ethnic group that dominates coastal villages and controls the local political life. Newer immigrants of Latino campesinos from the central provinces of Panama form the third ethnic group. These new arrivals tend to live along the new roads and specialize in cattle ranching and agriculture.

196 Daniel Suman

SHRIMP RESOURCES IN EASTERN PANAMA Penaeoid shrimp are an extremely valuable component of

commercial fisheries in near-shore areas throughout the western hemisphere and account for the vast majority of the South American catch (Bliss, 1990). The subgenus Litopenaeus has great commercial importance in the Eastern Tropical Pacific, and the three species (Litopenaeus occidentalis, Litopenaeus vannamei, and Litopenaeus stylirostris) comprising this subgenus occupy tropical and subtropical habitats from Baja California, Mexico, to northern Peru (Perez, 1988). Adults may reach more than 20 cm. in length and have life spans of between one and two years.

The life cycle of these shrimp species illustrates a complex relationship between near-shore oceanic waters and estuaries. Adults generally live and spawn in offshore sandy bottoms, while juveniles are found in nutrient-rich estuaries. Post-larvae that reach estuarine nursery areas develop into juvenile shrimp there.

Near-shore areas of the Panama Bight are ideal habitats for Litopenaeus shrimp. (See Map 10.2.) Annual upwelling and high river runoff result in nutrient-rich near-shore waters. The numerous large estuaries with vast mangrove forests are ideal nursery habitats for juvenile shrimp. The maximum spawning for shrimp occurs from October to December when rainfall and runoff are highest. In its larval stages, shrimp appear to move inshore to estuarine habitats during these months and then grow rapidly during the maximum upwelling season from January to April with lower rainfall and runoff (Forsbergh, 1969).

THE SHRIMP FISHERIES Commercial shrimp taken in Panama, Colombia, and Ecuador

include white shrimp (Litopenaeus sp.), pink shrimp, and carabalí shrimp. The coveted species is clearly white shrimp because of their large size and value. In Panama both industrial shrimp trawlers and small-scale artisanal vessels target this valuable resource. The largest shrimp are sold as “prawns” or langostinos. According to Panamanian legislation, industrial vessels by definition exceed 10 GRT (Gross Registered Tons), while “artisanal” vessels are smaller. Three types of shrimping occur in this region: industrial, small-scale or “artisanal,” and aquaculture.

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 197

Map 10.2 Important Fishing Zones in Panama Source: Created by author

Industrial Shrimping Shrimp trawling began in Panama in the 1950s with vessels

originating in the Gulf of Mexico. The industrial fleet grew rapidly; and in response to studies indicating overfishing, government authorities in essence capped the fleet at a maximum of 232 vessels in 1985 (Decretos Ejecutivos No. 10, February 28, 1985; No. 76, October 4, 1994; and No. 56, June 26, 1995). This fleet is responsible for much larger shrimp landings than the small-scale fleet. Government estimates for 2002 suggest that the industrial fleet landed 970 metric tons of white shrimp while the artisanal fleet landed 185 metric tons or 16% of the total (República de Panamá, 2004).

Today, the national shrimp fleet numbers 220 vessels owned by nine different companies. A significant number of vessels—up to 15 or 20 at a time—fishes in the rich shrimp grounds of the Gulf of San Miguel, using bottom trawls (beam trawls). A typical trawler in the aging fleet averages 18 to 20 meters in length with engines between 150 and 380 horsepower (hp). Vessels contain six or eight isothermic chests that use refrigerated seawater for cooling. Each chest has a

198 Daniel Suman capacity of 2,000 pounds; thus, the trawler may land a maximum of 12,000 to 16,000 pounds during a trip of two or three weeks. The trawl net is 40 to 70 meters long with a mesh of 1 to 1.25 inches. Each trawl can last up to four or five hours. Besides the captain, two or three crew staff the shrimp trawlers. Thus, the industrial shrimp fleet employs about a thousand individuals.

No landing data exist exclusively for the waters of Darién Province. However, the government reports landings for the Darién region which includes waters from the Panama Canal east to the Colombian border (eastern Panama Province and Darién Province). Landings of shrimp from the region exceeded 2 million pounds (headless) in 2001, while the other two regions (central and western) produced less than 100,000 pounds.

Time series data about the industrial landings of white shrimp between 1960 and 2003 in the Darién region suggest that the landings have decreased toward the present (Ehrhardt, 2003). Landings between 1960 and 1972 oscillated between 3 and 4.5 million pounds (headless) of shrimp. Between 1973 and 1984, the national landings ranged between 2 and 3 million pounds, while between 1985 and the present, the annual catch fell to between 1.5 and 2.5 million pounds. Similarly, the catch per unit effort (CPUE) appears to have decreased at present.

It is tempting to conclude that the current decreases in shrimp landings are an indication of overfishing. However, some evidence suggests that shrimp abundance may reflect regional decadal variability in precipitation in the coastal watersheds (Ehrhardt, 2003; Forsbergh, 1969). This hypothesis suggests that shrimp landings correlate positively with years of high precipitation in coastal watersheds. Shrimp abundance may also correlate to the strength of upwelling in near-shore waters (Forsbergh, 1969). The ultimate explanation for these data has yet to be determined.

The bottom trawls produce a significant by-catch of between 80 and 90% of the catch, known by crew as basura (trash) (Alverson et al., 1994; Forsbergh, 1969). The trawlers run close to the mangrove shoreline over the mudflats of the Gulf of San Miguel, resulting in significant conflicts with the artisanal fleet over (a) use of this marine space, (b) targeting the identical resources, and (c) damage to benthic habitat and organisms. Executive Decree No. 124 (November 8, 1990) designated the northern reaches of the Gulf of

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 199 San Miguel as off-limits to shrimp trawlers. However, trawler violations of this artisanal fishing zone are common.

Small-Scale or “Artisanal” Shrimping

In addition to the industrial fleet, some 1,000 artisanal fishers (about 10% of them women) who live in coastal towns surrounding the Gulf of San Miguel also catch large quantities of this high-value resource. (See Map 10.3.) In 2003, 362 artisanal vessels had shrimp permits in Darién Province from the General Directorate of Marine

Gulf of San Miguel

•Garachiné

• Río Congo

• Bahía Piña

• Jaqué

• Playa de Muerto

• Taimatí

• Punta Alegre

• Cucunatí

• La Palma

• Chepigana

• El Real

• Puerto

• Puerto Lara

Pacific Ocean

Darien Province

Punta Garachiné

Tuira River

Yaviza •

•Sambú

• Mogue

Balsas Rvier

Congo River

Sabanas River

Cucunatí River

0 15km

Map 10.3 Coastal Communities in Darien Province Source: Atlas de los recursos marino-costeros de la provincia del Darién (2003)

200 Daniel Suman and Coastal Resources (DGRMC). (See Table 10.1.) The number of permits has remained constant since 1996 when the government suspended the granting of new shrimp licenses. During the same period, the number of artisanal finfish permits jumped by 280% from 89 to 338. (See Table 10.2.) Despite the cap on shrimp permits, it is doubtful that the small-scale pressure on the shrimp resource has remained constant. Many people land shrimp without a permit or with only a finfish permit. The authorities’ enforcement capabilities are so low that they cannot effectively regulate this activity.

Fishers comprise a significant percentage of the population in Punta Alegre, Garachiné, Río Congo, and Taimatí, all coastal villages surrounding the Gulf of San Miguel. Due to the uncertainty about the number of artisanal fishers as recorded in the DGRMC database, these percentages should be used only as indicators of fishing’s importance in these coastal communities. (See Table 10.3.) The low percentage of fishers in some communities most likely reflects the reality that some fishers fail to obtain permits, rather than the comparative lack of fishing’s importance in these communities.

This fleet of more than 370 small dugouts generally uses 10-40 hp. outboard motors to land prawns from the shallow waters of the Gulf of San Miguel. The principal artisanal shrimping zones are in the northern (Punta San Lorenzo and Punta Morro de Buena Vista) and southern (Ensenada de Garachiné, Punta Patiño, and Punta Alegre) near-shore areas of the Gulf. (See Map 10.4.)

The fishers use monofilament gill nets with mesh size of three inches measured knot to knot. They set four 100-meter-long nets that, when attached, extend 400 meters across the near-shore waters, preferably adjacent to mangroves and estuaries. The catch per vessel may exceed 25 to 30 pounds per day of white shrimp for the most competent fishers during peak resource abundance. The prawns are large and fall into classes U7 and U15 (7 and 15 individuals per pound, respectively).

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 201 Table 10.1 Shrimp Permits per Community Granted by the DGRMC, 1996, 2003

Port 1996 2003 Garachiné 146 147 Taimatí 45 38 Guagaral 6 4 Río Congo 27 31 Punta Alegre 111 112 Arretí 4 2 Piñal 8 3 La Palma 23 20 Puerto Quimba 4 Puerto Caimito 1 Cucunatí 1 Total 371 362

Source: Unpublished records of the DGRMC Table 10.2 Finfish Permits per Community Granted by the DGRMC, 1996, 2003 Port 1996 2003Garachiné 41 145Taimatí 2 12Guagaral 1Río Congo 2 8Punta Alegre 1 66Arretí 2 3Piñal La Palma 19 53Puerto Quimba 4Santa Fé 2Puerto Lara 21 23Puerto Piña 1 2Jaqué 7Cucunatí 3Caña Blanca 1Ports in Panama Province 8Total 89 338

Source: Unpublished records of the DGRMC

202 Daniel Suman Table 10.3 Numbers and Percentages of Fishers in Coastal Communities, 2000 Community Population Number of Fishers PercentageLa Palma 1741 156 9Mogue 266Punta Alegre 605 381 63Chepigana Garachiné 1247 625 50Jaqué 1253 15 1Puerto Piña 641 4 1Playa de Muerto Río Congo 132 83 63Arretí 199 11 6Sambú Setegantí Taimatí 371 107 29Cucunatí 398 6 2Puerto Lara 333 49 15

Source: Unpublished records of the DGRMC

Coastal residents in some areas use a prohibited fishing gear

(atajo) or one-inch net (often a fragment of a shrimp trawl net or purse seine net) that they extend across canals and creeks in the mangrove estuaries and hold by stakes driven into the mud. As the tide ebbs, the atajo catches anything that cannot pass through the one-inch mesh. Although the atajo is banned by Executive Decree No. 41 (October 4, 1991), it is still commonly used in the estuaries and creeks in the northern reaches of the Gulf of San Miguel on the Cucunatí, Congo, and Sabanas rivers, primarily by Wounaan Indians. They subsequently sell their illegal, undersized catch along the Pan-American Highway to some Panama City restaurants.

The artisanal fishers typically sell their catch to some 20 intermediaries for prices ranging from $4 to $6 per pound. The price that a fisher receives depends on prawn size and fluctuates with the loans that the fisher maintains with the intermediary for his or her boat, motor, and gear. Our recent integrated coastal management project estimated that the 2002 artisanal shrimp landings for the Gulf

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 203 of San Miguel ran to about 150,000 pounds caught primarily between April and July of that year. The shrimp landings vary considerably by community. Intermediaries in the Gulf of San Miguel agreed that the average annual landings per vessel ranged from 300 pounds in Garachiné; 500 to 600 pounds in Taimatí; and 800 to 900 pounds in Río Congo and Punta Alegre. Catch per unit of effort is generally greatest in April at the end of the closed season (February to April), decreases in May, and recovers partially in June and July. This catch translated into an economic contribution of about $608,000 for the shrimp fishers of the Gulf of San Miguel coastal villages during 2002 (Ehrhardt, 2003).

Map 10.4 Important Shrimp Harvesting Areas for the Artisanal FishingFleet in the Gulf of San Miguel. Source: Atlas de los recursos marino-costeros de la provincia del Darién(2003)

204 Daniel Suman Shrimp Aquaculture

Shrimp aquaculture began in Panama in the 1970s, and shrimp ponds occupy salt flats and mangroves along the Gulf of Panama in the Coclé, Herrera, and Los Santos provinces of central Panama. In 2000, the area occupied by shrimp aquaculture ponds was 6,934 hectares in Panama with a total harvest of almost 3 million pounds of shrimp (República de Panamá, 2002).

To date, this activity has not reached eastern Panama because of the poor transportation network and because shrimp diseases have plagued the industry for a decade. Expansion of this activity in the future into Darién is a definite possibility, however. The deforested lands to the north of the mangrove forests of the Gulf of San Miguel are likely target areas for shrimp aquaculture.

THE MARKETING CHAIN AND INTERNATIONAL TRADE

Although eastern Panama is a frontier area poorly integrated into the nation, shrimp harvested from coastal and near-shore waters have clear links with global markets. The marketing chain is composed of numerous exchanges that transport shrimp from the Eastern Tropical Pacific to consumers in the north (largely the United States).

Intermediaries The shrimp intermediaries are local Darién entrepreneurs who

represent a handful of shrimp processors in the industrial fishing ports of Vacamonte and Coquira (Panama Province). Some 20 intermediaries buy shrimp from small-scale fishers in the Gulf of San Miguel. Each intermediary deals directly with his own processor regarding time and means of shipment, payment and loans, and purchases of equipment. The relationship between processor and intermediary (loans for business and personal motives) parallels the social relationship between the intermediary and the small-scale fisher. Some fishers own their boat, motor, and nets or are in the process of purchasing them from an intermediary. It is not uncommon, however, for the intermediary to own the vessel and motor (and permit) and to compensate the fisher as an “employee.”

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 205

Shrimp prawns are most often transported to Panama City by small planes that fly shipments of 1,000 to 1,200 pounds from air strips in Garachiné, Punta Patiño, and La Palma (all in Darién Province). The intermediary receives $8 per pound for the prawns but must also pay freight ($0.30/pound). Despite the high shipping costs, air transport is preferred because the hour-long flight guarantees a high-quality product. An increasingly popular alternative is shipment to Panama City by small truck from Puerto Quimba at the head of the Gulf of San Miguel. While less costly, this operation takes four to five hours and also requires transferring the shrimp by boat from the village to Puerto Quimba. The high fuel costs ($3 per gallon of gasoline) and the distance (20-30 km) between Garachiné and Puerto Quimba make this transportation option less attractive.

The largest shrimp intermediary in the Gulf of San Miguel (and indeed in eastern Panama) bases his operations in Punta Alegre in the central portion of the Gulf of San Miguel. He holds about 130 shrimp permits and buys the catch from artisanal fishers and their representatives in numerous communities (Punta Alegre, Taimatí, Garachiné, Río Congo, and Gonzalo Vásquez). It is remarkable that this latter community is located outside the Gulf of San Miguel in Panama Province. Nevertheless, the Punta Alegre intermediary has created an expanding business network throughout small coastal villages in eastern Panama and is the first link between these communities and global markets.

Processing Plants Curiously, both the small-scale and industrial marketing chains

terminate in the same processing/exporting companies in Vacamonte or Coquira (Panama Province), and these are controlled by a handful of Greek-Panamanian entrepreneurs. These shrimp processors also own or have an interest in the majority of the industrial trawling fleet that unloads in Vacamonte and Coquira. About nine processing plants in these two ports dehead, package, and freeze the shrimp. The plants provide an important source of employment for perhaps a thousand people.

The ultimate destination for most of the Panamanian shrimp harvest is the United States. Darik Enterprises—“The Shrimp

206 Daniel Suman People”—in New York is the major importer. In fact, Darik carries the “Panama Bay™” brand “long regarded by discerning chefs to be one of the world’s finest shrimp” (Darik Enterprises, 2005). Panamanian domestic consumption of prawns is limited by the high prices. Most prawns sold in the Panama City Seafood Market for $5 to $6 per pound are damaged or of unacceptable export quality.

On a recent visit to a seafood market in Miami, I confirmed that the price per pound of prawns approached $20. This is 400% more than the price received by the small-scale fishers in the Gulf of San Miguel.

Export The Gulf of San Miguel and the waters of the eastern Gulf of

Panama produce about 70 to 80% of Panama’s total catch of white shrimp, most of which are exported and which, in 2002, contributed US$17 million to the national economy (República de Panamá, 2004). The 2002 value of all shrimp exports (from industrial, small-scale, and aquaculture sources) was approximately $79 million or 37.3% of the total value of all seafood exports. Shrimp contributed 10.4% of the value of Panama’s total exports during that year (República de Panamá, 2005). In 2003 and 2004, respectively, shrimp of all species and forms (fresh or frozen) accounted for 25.9% ($75,782,000) and 25.7% ($75,035,000) of total seafood exports and 9.4% and 8.4% of total exports from Panama (República de Panamá, 2005).

REGULATING THE SHRIMP FISHERY The General Directorate of Marine and Coastal Resources of the

Panama Maritime Authority (DGRMC) regulates marine fisheries in Panama. On February 10, 1998, Panama’s Decree Law No. 7 consolidated the regulation of marine and maritime activities in a single agency—the Panama Maritime Authority. Previously, the Ministry of Commerce and Industry exercised jurisdiction over fisheries through Decree Law No. 17 (July 9, 1959), known as the Fisheries Law (Suman, 2002). The 1998 decree did not override the 1959 decree, meaning that it is still valid and provides the basis for the DGRMC’s authority over the fishery sector. In 2006,

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 207 preparations began for drafting new fishery legislation that would replace the older law.

During the half century that shrimp has been an important export product in Panama, a legal framework has developed to regulate the activity. Executive Decree No. 10 (February 28, 1985) is central to managing the industrial fleet as it prohibited issuing new shrimping permits, effectively freezing the number of vessels at 232. (Provisions do exist for substitution of licenses as older vessels are retired.) Some analysts consider that the fleet had already grown to an unsustainable size before capping so that this provision actually provides little real protection to shrimp populations.

Executive Decree No. 162 (July 6, 1966) stipulated that trawl nets cannot have a mesh size smaller than 1.75 inches for the entire industrial shrimp fleet. A subsequent executive decree also limits the power of vessel motors (Executive Decree No. 10, February 28, 1985).

Additional regulations for the industrial fleet address closed areas and seasons. Industrial vessels are prohibited from operating in estuaries, according to Decree No. 210 (October 25, 1965), although “estuaries” are not appropriately defined. A more recent regulation—Executive Decree No. 124 (November 8, 1990)—closed much of the northern portions of the Gulf of San Miguel in Darién Province to industrial shrimp trawling. Industrial fishing is also prohibited in an ocean area important for sportfishing, in an area with a radius of 20 miles centered on Punta Piña on the oceanic coastline of Darién (Executive Decree No. 1-B, January 28, 1994).

Closed seasons for shrimp fishing exist for both the industrial and small-scale fleets. This fishery management tool was first used in 1975 after the industrial fleet had already grown to its present size. Today, February and March still remain closed months for shrimp fishing in the entire Pacific zone. The basis for this closed season is the increased abundance of juvenile shrimp in Gulf of Panama estuaries—although great scientific uncertainty exists about the exact time period for this event. In 2002, the DGRMC established a second closed period in September and October for all shrimp fleets (Executive Decree No. 88, June 17, 2002). An additional measure, adopted in 1993 (Executive Decree No. 55, September 28, 1993), limited the number of days that each industrial vessel could trawl to about 18 per month from September to January. All of these

208 Daniel Suman regulations attempt to reduce the impact of fishing effort on the shrimp population.

The small-scale shrimp sector is also regulated by similar closed seasons and permits. The DGRMC has not granted new artisanal shrimp permits for several years, although this restriction has not been promulgated by official regulation. Other regulations include the minimum mesh size of three inches for shrimping gill nets (Executive Decree No. 124, November 8, 1990). Although by regulation the maximum length of gill nets is 200 meters (Executive Decree No. 124, November 8, 1990), the DGRMC reached an informal agreement with Darién small-scale fishers that permitted them to use gill nets up to 400 meters long. The use of atajos in mangroves and estuaries is illegal, according to Executive Decree No. 41 (October 4, 1991).

ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACTS OF SHRIMP FISHING Perhaps the most serious environmental impact of industrial

shrimp fishing is the high incidence of by-catch from trawlers. Perhaps 90% or more of the catch consists of non-targeted species, and by-catch is particularly high in tropical shrimp fisheries (Alverson et al., 1994; Spalding & Kramer, 2004). High-value fish landed as by-catch are saved for barter or sale, often to small-scale fishers who approach in their boats, or to a former DGRMC official in exchange for his minimal enforcement efforts. However, most of the catch is basura (trash) and is disposed, dead, back into the gulf waters. The basura includes larval and juvenile stages of commercially important fish. This massive mortality must also have a significant negative impact on the marine biological diversity of the estuary—although no studies have been made to confirm or quantify this hypothesis.

Trawling also causes damage to benthic communities by dragging nets across the soft bottom mud and sand. These nets level small outcrops and other topographical features, all important for marine organisms. The by-catch and basura also include a broad spectrum of benthic organisms that have no direct commercial value but are important for the well-being of the estuarine ecosystems.

Trawling close to shore in shallow waters causes serious conflicts with artisanal fishers over the shared shrimp resource base.

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 209 Small-scale fishers believe, almost to a person, that the industrial trawlers are taking “their” shrimp and are responsible for recent economic difficulties. Industrial captains, for their part, blame the increasingly numerous small-scale fishing vessels for decreases in “their” catch. Industrial trawlers often damage artisanal gill nets as they are soaking. Moreover, the by-catch negatively impacts the finfish populations that many small-scale fishers target. Thus, the operations have not only environmental, but also social, impacts. The conflict between these two fishery sectors is serious and appears to be growing as the resource base degrades and the number of artisanal fishers increases.

Over-exploitation or over-investment also appears to be an issue with both shrimp fleets (Food and Agriculture Organization [FAO], 2002). The industrial and small-scale vessels are used for only a fraction of the time that they could fish. Both fleets must observe extensive closed seasons, and trawlers are limited in the number of days that they can fish. Even the artisanal vessels have relatively low use. For example, during April 2002, the best month for shrimp fishing, only 60% of the artisanal vessels with permits were operable, and the average number of daily trips per vessel was 12 (Ehrhardt, 2003). These figures indicate over-investment in the fishery.

Atajos with their one-inch meshes are illegal, but they are still used in many tidal creeks that run through mangrove forests—nursery areas for shrimp and other marine resources. The use of atajos is also a cultural problem because the Emberá-Wounaan ethnic groups make particular use of this illegal method. They claim that they lack funds to purchase gill nets and, therefore, lack other fishing alternatives. Occasionally, DGRMC officials enforcing the law confiscate and burn these nets, creating ethnic mistrust and resentment.

Thus, numerous activities affect the state of the shrimp resources. The illegal atajos capture undersized shrimp in the mangrove nursery areas. The dramatic uncontrolled increase in the artisanal effort and the use of gill nets have exerted great pressure on the shrimp population. For example, FAO (2002) estimates that the number of gill nets in Panama increased from about 1,300 in 1986 to 14,000 in 1995. The industrial shrimp fleet, despite the cap on the number of boats, continues to trawl with improved technologies in

210 Daniel Suman near-shore estuarine areas, degrading the habitat and marine resources. The cumulative impact of these pressures appears to be leading to an unsustainable situation for the fishery.

An additional environmental issue is the by-catch of sea turtles, since the industrial shrimp fleet does not always use turtle excluder devices (TEDs). Concern about Panama’s inability to enforce the use of TEDs on its shrimp trawlers, which undercuts conservation efforts for endangered sea turtles, led the U.S. State Department to decertify wild shrimp exports from Panama to the United States on January 1, 2005, as stipulated by U.S. legislation (P.L. 101-162, Section 609-b; 16 U.S. Code sec. 1537 note). The TED certification requirements involve measures comparable to those used by U.S. shrimp trawlers. At the time of the decertification, Panama joined several other countries (Trinidad, Bangladesh, Haiti, India, Indonesia, and Nigeria) also declared ineligible to export wild shrimp to the United States (U.S. Department of State, 2005).

The decertification led the AMP/DGRMC to develop and implement a series of training courses for captains of shrimp vessels and to adopt Executive Decree No. 82 requiring the use of TEDs by all shrimp trawlers in Panamanian waters (Panama Maritime Authority, 2005). An inspection by the U.S. State Department and the National Marine Fisheries Service on April 20-21, 2005, found the situation in Panama had improved. Consequently, the United States has since certified Panamanian shrimp exports.

Enforcing the TED requirement at sea remains a challenge, however. For example, in Darién Province and the Gulf of San Miguel, important shrimp areas, the AMP/DGRMC did not employ a single official in 2003-2004 after the previous official was fired. Early in 2005, the agency hired a new official. However, his only equipment is a 20-foot fiberglass vessel and a very limited budget for gasoline. Enforcement is only one of his responsibilities, others being permitting and outreach. As a result, enforcement on the water remains, for all practical purposes, nonexistent.

SOCIO-ECONOMIC IMPACTS OF THE SHRIMP FISHERY Intermediaries obtain the greatest economic benefit from the

high-value shrimp catch. Small-scale fishers in eastern Panama lack any type of cooperative productive arrangement that would allow

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 211 them to capture a higher percentage of the earnings from the sale of shrimp, make their own market decisions, and provide social benefits to members and their families. The AMP/DGRMC has attempted to introduce an organized cooperative structure in some Darién coastal fishing villages in recent years. However, these attempts have not been successful because the handful of interested fishers lacked management and organizational skills, capital, and equipment.

Processing the shrimp, whether caught by the industrial or by the artisanal fleets, occurs outside Darién in processing plants in Vacamonte and Coquira (Panama Province). The industrial catch from waters adjacent to eastern Panama is not landed in Darién, and Darién derives no benefit from the shrimp capture. In Panama, neither the provinces, local governments, nor the organized fishers possess legal authority over marine fisheries. Therefore, they have no recognizable claim to these resources, nor can they exercise regulatory authority over them. At least the small-scale catch passes through Darién communities, and fishers and their families gain from its sale. The contribution of shrimp to fishing households in the Gulf of San Miguel communities was more than $600,000 in 2002. The shrimp fishery is the most important economic activity for the coastal villages of eastern Panama.

Agriculture in Darién also has links to the shrimp fishery. Darién was Panama’s largest producer of plantains until the Black Sigatoka fungus destroyed this crop after the opening of the Pan-American Highway in the early 1980s (Heckadon-Moreno, 1997). Moreover, international monetary organizations imposed strict fiscal measures on Panama in the 1980s. As a result, the government closed its agricultural purchasing stations for plantains, rice, and maize in remote Darién villages. The high transportation costs involved in shipping crops to Panama City made Darién agricultural products noncompetitive compared with those from central and western Panama. Thus, interest in income from high-value white shrimp in the early 1990s, coupled with low prices for agricultural products and the lack of government subsidies for agricultural production, as well as the Black Sigatoka fungus, have all stimulated an exodus from agricultural employment to fishing for shrimp and other marine resources. A result has been decreasing food security in Darién Province and a dramatic increase in the numbers of small-scale fishers.

212 Daniel Suman

ENVIRONMENT AND POVERTY: DARIÉN’S COASTAL COMMUNITIES

Darién Province has some of the most pressing social needs in Panama. In 2000, some 51% of homes lacked potable water supplied by aqueduct, almost 40% did not possess latrines or any system of sewage removal or treatment, and 67% did not have electricity. Illiteracy rates in the province approached 25%. The U.N. Development Program (UNDP) determined that more than 60% of the population in Darién Province in 2000 lived in extreme poverty and that the Human Development Index for the province was only 0.504—compared to a national value of 0.707 (Organización Panamericana de la Salud—Panamá, 2004).

The provincial economy depends on primary sector activities, principally subsistence agriculture and extensive cattle-raising. Darién is also the primary source of lumber for national markets and export today. Of significance to this chapter, 70% of the national fishery production originates from Darién waters, with shrimp, as already stated, being the most valuable catch.

Clearly income from the small-scale shrimp catch is a major source of income to coastal communities in eastern Panama, since it injects an estimated $608,000 annually into the local economies of coastal communities on the Gulf of San Miguel. The relatively high price of prawns and high demand by exporters guarantee sale of the product—unlike finfish that only earn 10% of the value per pound that prawns do.

The 10 coastal communities of the Gulf of San Miguel are centers for small-scale fishing activities. Fishing appears to be particularly concentrated in the villages of Punta Alegre, Río Congo, Garachiné, and Taimatí in the center and outer gulf areas. Punta Alegre ($432) and Río Congo ($425) actually have higher incomes than other coastal communities, such as Garachiné ($111) and Taimatí ($76). These first two specialize in shrimp fishing to a higher degree than other coastal communities and are closely associated with intermediaries who reliably export shrimp to Panama City and processing plants in Vacamonte.

Census data indicate that the average income in these two villages is also higher than the provincial average. The average household income in Panama is $500 per month while it is only

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 213 $118 in Darién Province. Income in coastal communities varies significantly. Darién coastal communities with the highest monthly household income are Punta Alegre ($432); Río Congo ($425); La Palma ($349) and El Real ($290). Income from shrimp fishing probably explains the higher incomes in the Punta Alegre and Río Congo, while the high percentage of government employees in La Palma and El Real explains their high average household incomes.

The high incomes in Punta Alegre and Río Congo contrast with the problematic social situations in both communities and do not translate into high percentages of homes with potable water, latrines, and 24-hour electric service. Social indicators in these two villages are, in fact, lower than average for Darién coastal communities. The percentage of Darién homes without latrines or cesspools is high (38%) compared to the national average of 7%. However, 67% of homes in Río Congo and 64% in Punta Alegre lack latrines, making them among the highest of any Darién coastal community to lack such services. Potable water is a critical issue in Punta Alegre. No home is served with potable water, and a communal well operates for only an hour each day. These statistics suggest that high-value shrimp and household income have not translated directly into overall benefits for these local communities.

No tradition of savings exists in these coastal villages. The only coastal village with a bank branch is La Palma, the provincial capital. However, La Palma is not important as a fishing village and is situated several hours away by small boat from such important fishing villages as Garachiné and Río Congo. Furthermore, many temptations exist for small-scale fishers to spend the cash their catch brings from the intermediary. In most instances, for example, the intermediaries also own cantinas (bars) and billiard halls immediately adjacent to the fish houses.

The shrimp boom is a relatively recent phenomenon of the past decade. Perhaps time is required for the new wealth to trickle down as improvements in these communities’ social situations. If the intermediaries move into politics, perhaps they will translate some of the financial benefits into improvements in social welfare.

The sustainability of the shrimp resource is another serious issue. The question is whether shrimp will also follow the normal “boom and bust” economic cycle that has been historically common in Darién. Gold and tropical hardwoods were earlier extracted from

214 Daniel Suman Darién with minimal benefit for the province and its communities (Méndez, 2004). At present, compared to statistics for the past 40 years, the catch per unit effort and overall shrimp catch are both decreasing. These changes may reflect long-term climatic shifts (upwelling, precipitation, runoff) and/or overfishing. Although the industrial trawling fleet is capped, technological advances make it ever more efficient. Officially, the government is granting no more small-scale shrimp permits. However, from my observations, the number of small artisanal fishing boats continues to grow. The impact of atajos on the health and sustainability of marine resources in the region’s estuaries remains a great concern since these waterways are crucial as nursery grounds for many species of marine resources.

Fisheries managers recognize that the management of penaeoid shrimp populations is challenging because of their life cycles, uncertainties in the information base, and the types of fisheries involved. Even so basic a question as whether high levels of fishing cause population instabilities has not been definitively answered (Neal & Maris, 1985). This uncertainty is especially pronounced in the eastern Panama case where scientific research and fisheries monitoring essentially do not exist.

Moreover, the shrimp resources extracted from Darién waters produce only minimum benefits for local communities. The artisanal catch is exported from Darién frozen or chilled without being processed. Processing, packaging, and freezing occur in urban areas of Panama Province—particularly in the fishing port of Vacamonte. Most of the frozen product is exported by container to purchasers in New York. The industrial shrimp catch, which greatly exceeds the small-scale catch, never passes through coastal villages in eastern Panama and essentially creates no direct benefit for the region. In addition, the trawling operations of the industrial fleet in near-shore areas damage benthic habitats, produce high by-catch, and compete with small-scale fishers for white shrimp prawns.

The enforcement of fishery laws and regulations remains a critical issue. The existing fishing regulations, if successfully implemented, might actually limit effort and sufficiently protect the environment, thus leading to sustainability for the natural resources and coastal communities. However, enforcement is minimal at best and often nonexistent. No fishery inspector works on the Pan-

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 215 American Highway leading to Panama City. Currently, a single fishery official is responsible for the entire province of Darién and his enforcement capabilities are extremely limited.

BREAKING THE CYCLE How might small Darién fishing communities benefit more from

the shrimp fishery? Some initiatives to break this unsustainable cycle and help the small coastal communities in eastern Panama derive greater long-term benefits from the shrimp fishery are available; even though all initiatives may have potentially adverse environmental or social impacts and rarely offer remedies without unintended consequences. Decision-makers should carefully consider both beneficial and adverse possible environmental, economic, and social impacts of alternative courses of action.

Some type of marine protected area in the Gulf of San Miguel could serve as a fishery management option that could promote sustainable resource use and potentially also limit fishing effort. A marine reserve (no-take zone) could protect important nursery areas for juvenile shrimp and also preserve the benthic (bottom) habitat of an area of the Gulf of San Miguel. Such a reserve could also support healthy populations of other commercial species of fish. However, enforcing the boundaries of such a marine reserve in near-shore waters would be currently difficult, given the minimal enforcement capabilities of the AMP or other governmental authorities.

A reserve would be a viable option only if the two major fishing sectors (industrial and small-scale) both embraced the concept. Achieving such buy-in to a reserve would involve negotiations with all of the interested parties at the table and all agreeing to cede some of their traditional fishing areas in the near-shore waters.

Some artisanal fishing leaders argue for community-controlled fishing areas where only fishers from a given community would be allowed to fish. These community fishing zones would most logically be the gulf waters adjacent to each fishing village. If the artisanal sector in each village were organized and accepted a stewardship ethic, such a concept might offer promise for sustainable fisheries. However, Panamanian legislation does not currently recognize “privatization” of the seas, and the marine environment is open for all to use. Without constitutional amendments or a new

216 Daniel Suman fishery law, these community fishing areas could not pass constitutional challenges.

Currently the northern interior reaches of the Gulf of San Miguel are designated as an artisanal fishing zone. Although enforcement remains problematic, Río Congo artisanal small-scale fishers often engage in self-enforcement when industrial trawlers enter the zone. The potential for violent conflict clearly exists in this situation. Many small-scale fishers would like the government to declare another artisanal fishing zone in the southern coves and near-shore areas of the Gulf of San Miguel (particularly the Ensenada de Garachiné and the coves between Punta Patiño and Punta Alegre). While these designations might reduce the conflict between the two fishing sectors, designation would also require buy-in from the economically and politically powerful industrial sector. Industrial owners and mangers might accept an increased artisanal fishing zone in exchange for a no-take marine reserve somewhere in the Gulf of San Miguel that all fishing sectors would agree to respect.

The government or international donors might support the location of shrimp and marine resource processing facilities in Darién Province. Currently, marine resources that are not immediately consumed in Darién are exported to Panama City fish markets or to processing plants in Panama Province (Vacamonte or Coquira). Processing plants in Darién Province would provide local employment and training opportunities and add some value to the resource before export from the province.

Co-management of the resource might be feasible with future evolution in the organization of small-scale fishers. If organized, they could also demand higher prices for products, better working conditions, and improved social benefits. Most importantly, organized fishers who could embrace a stewardship ethic might be able to control the fishing efforts of the artisanal sector and other current unsustainable practices. However, this possibility does not appear imminent and would have to surmount substantial obstacles. Many of the factors that Dietz et al. (2003) suggest as facilitating effective governance of the commons do not presently characterize Darién coastal communities. Little trustworthy information is available about the status of the shrimp stocks and the efforts of the fishing sectors. Social and environmental changes in coastal Darién have been rapid in the past two decades. Social capital (Pretty, 2003)

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 217 is low in Darién villages that experience ethnic divisions, a lack of cooperative fishing structures outside the intermediaries, and the nonexistence of formal mechanisms by which to communicate with the industrial fishing sector. Mechanisms to exclude outsiders from fishing do not exist because Panamanian legislation does not permit local or community control over the marine environment. Formal mechanisms to limit the effort of the industrial and artisanal fleets have not proved highly successful either. Resource users are highly skeptical of the current minimal enforcement efforts. Thus, community management of the shrimp resources will not be an easy task.

Increase in the government regulatory presence in the area is essential in all areas of government action—enforcement, permitting, monitoring, and outreach and education. Although Darién produces more than two-thirds of the marine resources harvested in Panama, only one low-level government fishery official is stationed there. The absence of infrastructure, equipment, and financial resources severely limits his range of operations. However, without government officials, it will be impossible to control the explosive growth in small-scale fishers, the use of illegal fishing gear, and industrial trawling in areas reserved for the artisanal fleet. The existing government database of artisanal catch and numbers of fishers and vessels will remain highly unreliable and not representative of reality. Co-management efforts without dialogue between government regulators and organized fishers will be impossible.

Reducing the effort of the artisanal and industrial fleets is also essential for the continued sustainability of the shrimp and fishing activities in eastern Panama. Measures here might involve continuing the cap on the number of vessels, controlling the introduction of new technologies, reducing the number of vessels through buy-back programs, and limiting the entry of new fishers into the activity. These changes would be politically extremely difficult for the government to adopt. They also demand a solid information base upon which to make the appropriate decisions and effective enforcement to ensure compliance. Thus, a controlled reduction in fishing activity faces extremely difficult political and social obstacles.

218 Daniel Suman

Some alternatives do exist for some fishers who are willing to switch to the sectors of agriculture and eco-tourism. However, changes to make local agriculture more competitive will result only from changes in national agricultural policy—specifically, subsidizing Darién agriculture to ensure that it is more competitive with the agro-business in other areas of Panama. The remaining Darién tropical forests and pristine coastline offer tremendous eco-tourism potential, a possibility that some investors, government planners, and the environmental community are just beginning to comprehend. However, developing the area’s eco-tourism potential requires investment in infrastructure and guarantees of security in the region. Kidnappings, drug traffic, and political violence from neighboring Colombia still plague eastern Panama (Suman, 2005; La policía, 2006), posing grave difficulties for the implementation of these innovative alternatives.

CONCLUSIONS Shrimp is one of Panama’s principal exports, and most of the

country’s shrimp resources are captured in near-shore waters from eastern Panama. The high-value white shrimp link eastern Panama and Darién coastal communities to the world. This export product, however, does little to reduce poverty in coastal communities in eastern Panama or strengthen local community organizations. Moreover, the rush to exploit this resource is causing significant social conflict between fishery sectors and adverse environmental impacts in the near-shore marine areas of eastern Panama.

New courses of action can stem the inevitable result of resource degradation and social inequality. However, such changes will demand political will, investments, vision, and significant changes in Panamanian legislation. The existence of these factors is far from certain.

NOTE

1. This manuscript was supported by the Program for the Sustainable Development of Darién (PDSD) of the Panamanian Ministry of Economy and Finances (MEF) and the Panamanian

The Case of the Shrimp Industry in Eastern Panama 219 Maritime Authority (AMP). Funding originated from the Inter-American Development Bank by means of Loan BID 1160/OC-PN.

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global assessment of fisheries bycatch and discards. FAO [Food and Agriculture Organization] Fisheries Technical Paper No. 339. Rome: FAO. Available at http://www.fao.org/DOCREP/003/T4890E/T4890E00.HTM.

Atlas de los recursos marino-costeros de la provincia del Darién: Programa de Desarrollo Sostenible de Darién (Panamá). (2003). Panama City, Panama: Arden & Price Consulting/University of Miami.

Bliss, D. E. (1990). Shrimps, lobsters and crabs: Their fascinating life story. New York: Columbia University Press.

Darik Enterprises, Inc. (2005). Home page. Retrieved on February 13, 2006, from www.shrimppeople.com/products/panama_bay.html.

Dietz, T., E. Ostrom, & P. C. Stern. (2003). The struggle to govern the commons. Science 302(5652), 1907-1912.

Ehrhardt, N. E. (2003). Caracterización de los recursos camaroneros y de pesca deportiva. Unpublished report prepared for the Programa de Desarrollo Sostenible de Darién (Panamá).

Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). (2002). Fishery Country Profile: Republic of Panama. Retrieved on February 13, 2006, from www.fao.org.fi.fcp/en/PAN/profile.htm.

Forsbergh, E. D. (1969). On the climatology, oceanography, and fisheries of the Panama bight. Bulletin of the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission,14, 49-259.

Heckadon-Moreno, S. (1997). Spanish rule, independence, and the modern colonization frontier. In Anthony G. Coates, Central America: A natural and cultural history (pp. 177-214). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Méndez, T. (2004). El Darién: Imagen y proyecciones. Panamá: Editorial Mariano Arosemena, Instituto Nacional de Cultura.

Neal, R. A., & Maris, R. C. (1985). Fisheries biology of shrimps and shrimplike animals. In A. J. Provenzano (Ed.), Economic aspects: Fisheries and culture. Vol. 10 of The biology of crustacea (pp. 1-110). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.

Organización Panamericana de la Salud—Panamá. (2004). Análisis del contexto general de la región de Darién y su situación de salud. Retrieved on February 13, 2006, from http://www.ops-oms.org.pa/ fulltex/andarien1.pdf.

La policía panameña busca en la selva a los españoles desaparecidos. (2006, January 25). El País, (Madrid), p. 8.

220 Daniel Suman Panama Maritime Authority. (2005). Estados Unidos recertifica a Panamá

para volver a exportar camarones al mercado norteamericano. Retrieved on February 13, 2006, from www.amp.gob.pa/newsite/ spanish/prensa/comunicados/show_news.php?subaction=s

Perez, I. (1988). Illustrated key to penaeoid shrimps of commerce in the Americas, NOAA [National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration] Technical Report NMFS 64. Washington, DC.

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About the Authors O.P. Dwivedi is Professor Emeritus of Political Science at the University of Guelph, Canada, where he has taught environmental policy and law, comparative public policy, and development administration since 1967. His research foci include environmental policy and law, development administration, administrative culture and corruption, and public service ethics. His work spans a geographic area that encompasses Canada, United States, Papua New Guinea, India, Mauritius, and various developing nations. Rebecca Lee Harris is Assistant Academic Director at the Dr. Kiran C. Patel Center for Global Solutions at the University of South Florida where she coordinates the Center’s research and publications programs. Prior to joining the Center, she was a post-doctoral fellow at the International Food Policy Research Institute in Washington, DC. Her research interests include agricultural policy, rural development, and issues of sustainable development. Gurleen Grewal is Associate Professor of Women’s Studies at the University of South Florida. She specializes in postcolonial feminist theory and literature, U.S. women of color, yoga and Vedanta philosophy. Her publications include Circles of Sorrow, Lines of Struggle: The novels of Toni Morrison (1998) and the forthcoming “Postcolonialism and U.S. Ethnic Literature” in Encyclopedia of Ethnic American Literature. She is currently working on Silent Revolutions: Transformations of the Self in Nature, Illness and Spiritual Practice.

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Kwabena Gyimah-Brempong is Professor and Chair of Economics at the University of South Florida. His research focuses on economic growth, corruption, income inequality, and human capital in Africa. Dr. Gyimah-Brempong has been a consultant with African Capacity Building Foundation’s Parliament Technical Advisory Panel, United Nations Economic Commission for Africa, and Stockholm International Peace Research Institute’s (SIPRI) project on “Defense Budgeting Processes in Africa” Project.

Lisa Fairchild graduated in 2005 with her Master's in Environmental Science & Policy from the University of South Florida. Her thesis examined the influence of stakeholder groups on the development of policy designed to mitigate the area of hypoxia in the Northern Gulf of Mexico. She is currently an Environmental Scientist with LPG Environmental & Permitting Services, Inc. in Mount Dora, Florida. Renu Khator is Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs and Professor of Government and International Affairs at the University of South Florida. She is the author/co-editor of four books, including Bureaucracy-Citizen Interface: Conflict and Consensus (1999). Dr. Khator consults on several environmental initiatives including Florida’s National Estuary Programs and the City of Tampa’s Environmental Taskforce.

Michael Miller is Assistant Professor of Government and International Affairs and Environmental Science and Policy at the University of South Florida. Prior to coming to USF, he taught political science at Georgia Perimeter College in Atlanta and raised funds for environmental nonprofits such as Campaign Coordinator at Earth Share of Georgia. With on-going research in Costa Rica, his primary scholarly interests continue to be Latin American environmental politics and sustainable development. Jorge Nef is Director of the Institute for the Study of Latin America and the Caribbean and Professor of Government and International Affairs at the University of South Florida. A native of Chile, Dr. Nef previously served as professor in the School of Environmental

About the Authors 223

Design and Rural Development at the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada. His current research focuses on human security, comparative politics and public policies, and international development. Ella Schmidt is Assistant Professor of Interdisciplinary Social Sciences, University of South Florida-St. Petersburg. Dr. Schmidt’s research focuses on transnational indigenous migration from Mexico to the U.S. and the creation of new social formations in both home and host communities. She is the author of the forthcoming book, Dreams from the fields: Farmworker lives and American realities. Daniel Suman is Professor of Marine Science and Policy at the Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science and Adjunct Professor of Law at the University of Miami. His primary research focus concerns the establishment of Marine Protected Areas, with projects in Southern Florida, Ecuador, Italy, and Panama. Dr. Suman was Project Director for the two-year Integrated Coastal Management project, located in the Darién Province of Panama for which he and his team completed a Coastal and Marine Management Plan in 2004. Richard Weisskoff is Associate Professor of International Studies at the University of Miami, where he founded and directs the Program in Environment and Development for Latin America & the Caribbean (PRENDE). Dr. Weisskoff has made many contributions in the field of development economics, pioneering in statistical studies of income distribution and poverty, trade & exchange rates, health, transport, and input-output analysis. He has served on missions throughout Latin America with the Agency for International Development, Interamerican Development Bank, and the United Nations.

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