Nimbyism and Colombia’s “Socially Responsible” Mine, Cerrejón

By Jeanine Legato
WfP Colombia

Southeastern Massachusetts, where I am from, was deeply embroiled in a nimby (Not-In- My- Backyard)  debate in 2008 about the proposed construction of Cape Wind, an offshore wind farm in Nantucket sound.  The debate lasted years and only recently passed its final regulatory obstacle of approval by the Federal Aviation Association.  In the meantime, it has dominated local airwaves, newspapers, and public discussion, and called the attention of just about every important national news outlet. The innocuous “How ‘bout them Red Sox” conversation in Massachusetts shifted for a long time to, “How ‘bout that wind farm?” Critics of the farm, bent on saving the view sheds of their waterfront homes have lost out over time to the proposal’s proponents, who fought for the environmental, economic and energy security benefits of renewable energy.

Yesterday, in the Wayuu Indigenous Reservation of Provincial located in the northern Colombia province of La Guajira, I witnessed another nimby scenario play out, albeit colored by much different circumstances, none so privileged as a debate over the Kennedy’s vacation home, and certainly not as well covered by the media.

Culminating a five day expedition along the banks of the Rancheria River to document its degradation since the arrival of coal-giant Cerrejón (BHP Biliton, Xstrata, Anglo American), and to call for the defense of the same ecosystem before the mine’s proposed 26 kilometer detouring of the river to mine the high quality coal beneath, communities called a press conference in Provincial and asked, “why is our resistance ignored in the media?”

The answer: Cerrejón, whose slogan is “Mining Responsibly”, dominates the press-beat in La Guajira with its multi-million investment in communications.  Furthermore, while the Cape Wind project was stalled by years’ long debate and strict environmental regulations, Cerrejón has been subjected to neither by the Colombian press or government.  President Juan Manuel Santos promotes deregulated mining and foreign investment to make extractive resources the “economic engine” for the country.

To the 150 participants on a five day excursion for the defense of the Rancheria River, comprised of Guajiran community members, and national and international NGO representatives, the economic myth was manifest.  La Guajira is Colombia’s poorest province, 34 years after Cerrejón’s arrival.  In visiting three of the dozens of communities displaced by Cerrejón, the mine’s claim to social responsibility was questionable at best.

In Patilla, multiple families remain in the dust-polluted town in the shadow of a massive mountain made of mining waste.  Cerrejón claims that Patilla is its most successful relocation case, boasting a video on its website of an inaugural party at “New” Patilla, the urban resettlement where Patilla residents were relocated.  Not featured in the video are the dozens of families that Cerrejón did not relocate on grounds that they were Patilla natives, but not residents.   As a result of the job precariousness that the mine imposed on the once agricultural economy, many Patilla natives moved part-time into town to find work or facilitate easier commutes to their kids’ schools.  Cerrejón refuses to compensate them for their homes or include them in rights to relocation.  To pressure the “resisters” to sell, Cerrejón has cut off their electricity for weeks at a time and been late in sending potable water supply to the community (the Rancheria River, once suitable for human consumption, cannot be used even for cattle due to mining pollutant content).

Further down the road, eight families remain in Roche, once the area’s densely populated social capital.  In its rush to relocate residents to New Roche, Cerrejón fueled disputes in the community, offering financial rewards for the families who were willing to leave Roche the quickest and delegitimizing the community leaders who advocated for resistance or slower-paced negotiations.  In April 2012, Cerrejón filed for the Colombian State to expropriate the remaining Roche families, a process that may occur in early October without Cerrejón having made a good-faith effort to work through tenuous points in the negotiation.

Three Inhabitants of Roche are unable to span the circumference of a Caracoli tree found along the Rancheria’s river banks.  Cerrejon’s expansion threatens the over two-hundred- year presence of local Afro Colombian communities as well as ancient flora and fauna.

As a Wayuu Indigenous community, Provincial strongly opposes the rerouting of the Rancheria River. They have begun an internal reflection process to preclude the prior consultation process that Cerrejón, required by ILO 169 and Colombian law, would have to carry out before exploring the project.  Cerrejón president Roberto Junguito told local press that an expansion project indicating the detouring of the Rancheria hasn’t been officially presented, making the communities’ call for debate and consultation on the topic an unnecessary controversy.    

Children in the Provincial Reservation perform a traditional Wayuu dance representing an edible cactus flower found in their territory.

However, according to independent news outlet La Silla Vacia, the Ministry of the Interior- the entity responsible for oversight of prior consultation- confirmed that Cerrejón solicited the formal initiation of the prior consultation process on November 29, 2010 and December 7, 2010. Prior consultation is not to be confused with prior consent; Cerrejón has been widely criticized by communities and NGOs alike for misrepresenting information regarding damages in the consultation process and, as with the case of the Rancheria River, not consulting with communities before advancing legal exploration processes with the Colombian government.  

The collective experience of just these few communities is enough to give legitimate claim to their campaign’s simple slogan, “Cerrejón lies.”

 Bathing in the Rancheria, running my hands along the riverbed and turning up baseball-size pieces of coal, I had to agree.  Walking through the woods and finding half- hidden pipes that spew black coal processing water into the river, I had to agree.  Cerrejon’s ridiculous claim that rerouting the river would not cause further harm to communities is a shameless lie, or, at best, a deranged dismissal of the dizzying damage this mine has already caused to suffering communities over the course of three decades.

150 delegates representing local, national, and international communities traversed the Rancheria River over five days to document the environmental characteristics of Guajira’s most important water source.

This is a case of nimbyism where there is no possible benefit to the locals.  100% of Cerrejón coal is exported, including to the U.S market.  What Guajirans stand to lose from the rerouting of the Rancheria River is not just a view, but the last vital life source sustaining them in the face of forced displacement.      

Join the Witness for Peace Colombia team in their current investigative project to find out where Cerrejón coal is being imported to in the U.S.  Write colombia@witnessforpeace.org to get involved.

Caño Manso Reclaimed its Collective Territory, but Security Concerns Persist

By Austin Robles
WFP Colombia Team

Colombians often refer to their country as one of laws but without law enforcement. For communities engaged in the legal process of land restitution in the areas most plagued by the armed conflict, waiting for the law to be enforced takes years. One community, tired of waiting, decided to nonviolently reclaim part of their territory without aid from the Colombian government.

In memory of Walberto. Caño Manso Humanitarian Zone, exclusive to the civilian population. Protected by provisional measures of  the IACHR (Inter-American Court on Human Rights)

Residents of the Humanitarian Zone of Caño Manso, located along the Curvaradó river basin in Colombia’s northern Chocó province, have been forcibly displaced several times over the past decade, but are finally making strides in regaining access to their ancestral collective territory. Three court rulings recognized their right to land that is illegally occupied by large-scale cattle ranchers and agricultural workers. A June report issued by the Colombian Institute of Rural Development (INCODER) demarcated the territory to which they are entitled (nearly 3,000 acres) and listed the names of each illegal occupier who must vacate the land.

Despite recognizing Caño Manso residents as the rightful owners of the land, these legal entities asked the illegal occupiers to self-vacate and provided no enforcement mechanism or date for their removal. The illegal occupiers refuse to comply with the law and proclaim they will leave when forced to do so. Instead of waiting years hoping for the government to mete out justice, community members decided to reclaim their territory on their own in a simple manner: by extending the fence surrounding their Humanitarian Zone to encompass the occupied land and asking the illegal occupiers to leave. In discussions leading up to their actions, community members repeatedly stated their commitment to acting peacefully and reiterated that if the illegal occupiers acted toward them with violence, they would respond with nonviolence.

Reclaiming the Land

Between July 13th and 16th, 11 Witness for Peace delegates, along with members of partner organizations Peace Brigades International and the Interchurch Commission of Justice and Peace, accompanied Caño Manso’s residents as they nonviolently reclaimed their collective territory.

The Humanitarian Zone encompassed a five-acre plot, and community members decided to increase it to eight by extending the perimeter. One group of residents expanded the barbed-wire fence marking their territory, closing it off to the illegal occupiers. Another group approached to home of the illegal occupiers and requested they leave. Those in the house first declared that they would leave, but later refused to go. Soon after, Colonel Javier Alberto Vallejos Delgado, commander of the Army’s 17th Brigade (responsible for security in the region), spread false reports on the radio. He claimed that Caño Manso, assisted by internationals, was kidnapping people in Curvaradó.

The situation escalated as the administrator of the lands, a few workers, and several unknown people entered the home. Both the Army and the Police, which had promised not to let anyone enter the Humanitarian Zone, let them in. The Army and the Police then promised that it would frisk anyone entering or leaving the Zone, but broke that promise as well, showing no regard for the security of the civilian community members. Another radio transmission hit the airwaves as a local representative (whose legitimacy is under question) told listeners that internationals were facilitating a land grab in Caño Manso.

As the security situation got more intense, we got word that representatives from the Office of the Attorney General planned to come and mediate the dispute. The next morning they arrived in a helicopter and held meetings with community members and the illegal occupiers. They also recognized the community members’ right to the land, pointing to the previous court ruling and the INCODER report, but stopped short of ordering the occupiers to leave. Their presence raised the profile of the community members’ struggle and de-escalated the security risks, but still did not resolve the issue of the occupiers.

On the morning of the 16th, before Witness for Peace was due to leave, community members decided to remove the illegal occupiers’ cattle from their collective territory. The animals, which include hundreds of cows and water buffalo, have trampled and destroyed the community’s food crops, and their massive weight ruins the quality of the arable land. Around 6:00am, we woke up and accompanied community members as they chased the animals off their land.

Setting Regional Precedent

Though the Witness for Peace delegates left, Peace Brigades International and the Interchurch Commission of Justice and Peace are maintaining a permanent presence in Caño Manso to ensure community members do not face repercussions for their actions in the paramilitary-controlled region.

After our departure, we learned that officials from the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Agriculture met with community members and the illegal occupiers and came to several understandings:
1) the community acted within its rights in reclaiming its territory, but agreed not expand further without permission from the government;
2) the Army would maintain a permanent presence around the Zone’s perimeter to guarantee security;
3) the government agreed to name an inspector to handle similar displacement and restitution cases along the Curvaradó and Jiguamiandó River basins.

Caño Manso’s recovery of its ancestral land sets a regional and legal precedent, and its importance can not be stressed enough. Still, several problems persist. The illegal occupiers have not been evicted and reiterated that they would not leave until forced to do so. Community members’ security remains at risk from illegal armed actors. One member of the military, when approached by a community resident about security concerns, stated that the illegal occupiers “won’t kill anyone here; they’ll kill you somewhere else.” Until their security and right to land are guaranteed by the government, residents of Caño Manso Humanitarian Zone remain at risk.

Gold Rush in Colombia: Part 1

by Amanda Tello

Colombia is one of the most bio-diverse, resource-abundant countries in the world. Home to the Amazon rainforest, the Andes mountains, la Guajira desert and the Pacific and Caribbean coasts, it contains more than “10% of the world’s plant and animal species.” Beneath the rich soil lie the keys to Colombia’s energy development as well as the sources of continual violence and displacement: oil, coal, emeralds, silver, nickel, copper and – gold. Before the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors, gold mining was an important means of survival for the indigenous population and continues to support millions of small-scale miners throughout the country. The recent surge in prices and demand for gold have sparked a modern-day “gold rush,” which has ignited a conflict between local communities and an influx of foreign corporations looking to profit from Colombia’s vast natural resources. The state’s desire to capitalize on the mining boom and present Colombia as an investment-friendly country has especially threatened Afro-Colombian and indigenous communities who inhabit strategically important territory and practice small-scale mining in many areas.

Mining Boom 

In recent years, the Colombian government has been campaigning to increase production in the extractive energy sector as a “development” strategy that will bring employment, infrastructure and wealth to the country. Beginning under the Uribe administration, the government implemented the “National Plan for Mining Development and Environmental Policy Vision Colombia 2019,” which seeks to “convert Colombia into a ‘mining country’” by establishing mining districts targeted for development. Current President Juan Manuel Santos has enhanced the government’s support for extractive industries, declaring mining an “activity for public utility and social interest” that will bring “prosperity to all.” Consequently, the number of mining licenses granted to individuals and multinational corporations (MNCs) has increased significantly in recent years. According to a report published by Peace Brigades International (PBI), “Mining in Colombia: At What Cost,” “between 1990 and 2001 in Colombia, 1,889 mining licenses were awarded (157 per year), but by 2010 there were already 8,928 concessions (4,839,149 hectares) and 20,000 applications pending.” In other words, 40% of Colombian territory has either been awarded or solicited by multinational corporations in the mining and energy sectors.

Minister of Environment; Right: Minister of Energy and Mining. El Tiempo

The modern “gold rush” in Colombia has been further fueled by the increase in market price and worldwide demand for the precious commodity, with a substantial portion of that demand emanating from the United States. The price of an ounce of gold increased from US $700 in 2008 to US $1,800 today, providing a strong incentive for corporations to invest in Colombia. Moreover, Vision Plan Colombia 2019 hopes to increase gold production from 40 tons annually to 80 tons in the next year. The combination of these factors has led to record foreign direct investment (FDI) in Colombia. During an interview at the World Economic Forum, Colombian Energy and Mining Minister Mauricio Cardenas said he “expects a $10 billion investment in crude oil, energy and mining projects in 2012.” In 2011 alone, “82% of the FDI in Colombia went to the energy sector” and overall investment grew by 113% to $14.4 billion.

Legislative Reforms 

With the hope that mining would become an economic “engine of growth,” the government enacted legislative reforms to benefit the mining industry. Law 685, referred to as the Mining Code, was passed in 2001 under the advisement of a law firm representing “half of the mining companies found in the national mining registry,” including a number of Canadian companies that now comprise 43.41% of the mining corporations in Colombia. Under this law, mining companies no longer need licenses for all phases of mining activity so they can begin the exploration phase without obtaining authorization. Subsequently, companies do not run the risk of losing their licenses due to potential environmental degradation or protestation from local communities.

Open Pit Mining Outside Segovia – PBI

Following a recommendation from the World Bank, Colombia “eliminated the State’s role in direct investment,” which not only limited its power to oversight and regulation but also “ended the possibility of State earnings from net returns.” Therefore, the state only benefits from the “surface rights fees and royalties that companies pay during exploration and mining phases.” Corporations also benefit from low royalty levels and tax exemptions, which are lower now than they were in the 1990s. Currently set at 4%, the royalty rates for gold extraction are so low that some experts argue Colombia is effectively paying “multinationals to extract their resources,” especially given the enormous environmental and social costs that large-scale mining operations often inflict.

The Plight of Afro-Colombians and Indigenous Peoples

Listening to President Santos’ rhetoric on the potential of the mining industry to create employment, foster security and alleviate poverty, it appears to be a win-win situation for citizens and corporations. However, a more complicated picture emerges when the plight of Afro-Colombian and indigenous communities are considered. Colombia is home to more than 102 indigenous groups totaling almost 1.4 million people and between 4-13 million persons of African descent. The competition over mining operations oftentimes threatens the resource abundant territories and livelihoods of Afro-Colombian and indigenous peoples, many of who have been mining in their communities for decades or centuries.

Although the Constitution formally recognizes the rights of Afro-Colombian and indigenous communities in the form of “collective land titles” and reserves, they face constant threats from armed actors and the “implementation of economic development or mega-projects,” such as mining. The government has further exacerbated the precarious plight of these groups by awarding mining licenses in indigenous reserves and collective territories belonging to Afro-Colombians without first obtaining the “prior and informed consent” of local communities – a right guaranteed in the Colombian Constitution as well as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. For example, in July 2010, the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues determined that “mining concessions had been awarded in 80% of legally recognized reserves.” Not to mention, 27% of indigenous peoples and 60% of Afro-Colombians live outside of legally recognized territory and thousands of pending requests are being delayed in order to ensure the development of mega-projects.

Afro-descendent Community Lands – Indigenous Reserves -- PBI

Many inhabitants of these territories have been practicing small-scale, artisanal gold mining for generations. It is estimated that five million people subsist on small-scale mining in 44% of Colombia’s municipalities. However, many of these mines are not legally registered with Ingeominas, the government agency responsible for mining operations. According to reports from InSight, 6,000 small-scale mines are not legally registered, which comprises as many as 50% of Colombia’s mines. The 2001 mining code mandated that small-scale miners register their operations within a three-year period. Subsequently, the government was overwhelmed with requests and the “the legalization process quickly fell into a limbo.” Out of 2,845 requests submitted during the stipulated time period, only 23 were approved. Additionally, many miners in remote regions were not aware of the new requirements, lacked the resources to apply or found that their lands had already been ceded to MNCs.

PBI

Although small-scale mines produce the majority of Colombia’s gold, they face growing competition from primarily Canadian, English and South African mining corporations. As a result, small-scale miners “find themselves increasingly marginalized and in some cases persecuted for their traditional labor,” which is viewed as an obstacle to modern, industrial mining and investment. In fact, mncs have been found guilty of partnering with paramilitaries and other armed actors in order to intimidate labor union and community leaders and displace local populations from resource rich lands.

According to PBI and the National Mining Company Minercol Workers Union:

“80% of the human rights violations that have occurred in Colombia in the last ten years were committed in mining and energy-producing regions, and 87% of Colombia’s displaced population originate from these places.”

“At least 20 trade unionists from the mining and energy sector suffered attacks or attempted assassinations in 2010 and 78% of the crimes against trade unionists were committed in mining and energy areas”

According to professor and author Mario Murillo, the state’s support of large-scale mining projects and failure to obtain the “prior and informed consent” of impacted communities has paved the way for the disappearance and displacement of indigenous and Afro-Colombian peoples. Consequently, these marginalized groups make up a disproportionate number of the 3-4 million people displaced in the conflict thus far. It is estimated that indigenous peoples represent up to 7% of the displaced population and Afro-Colombians up to 17%. As PBI’s report astutely surmises, the decades-long conflict in Colombia is essentially a “competition over the use of the soil and subsoil for implementing economic projects,” in which Afro-Colombian and indigenous peoples are tragically viewed as obstacles to progress.

Special thanks to Peace Brigades International for their research on this topic.

Verification Mission: Illicit Coca Crops Endangering Collective Land Rights

By Austin Robles, WFP Colombia

This is the final installment of Witness’s February trip to Urabá (find links to past posts here and here). The subject I’ll be discussing is the large presence of illicit coca crops allegedly grown by paramilitaries along the Jiguamiandó and Curvaradó river basins and the risk they pose to communities.

Community members and Colombian organizations had long warned local government officials that illegal coca crops were being grown near some of the Humanitarian and Biodiversity Zones we visited, but their testimonies were routinely dismissed because the Army’s 17th Brigade, which patrols the area, contested their claims. One objective of our verification commission was to have international organizations verify the existence of these crops so they could no longer be denied.

While there, my team members and I saw around a dozen acres of coca crops near the communities’ collective territories. Some were recently planted but others were mature and yielding leaves that will likely be processed into cocaine and exported to the United States. The coca leaf itself is not a drug, but alongside these crops were labs in which the crushed coca leaves are mixed with cement and soaked in gasoline, battery acid, and other chemicals and converted into coca paste, which is later crystallized to form cocaine. These crops are maintained by illegal paramilitary groups operating in the area and pose three main risks to the communities’ security.

First, the presence of armed actors throws the communities into the middle of a conflict in which guerrillas, paramilitaries, and the U.S.-backed Colombian armed forces accuse the civilian population of collaborating with their respective enemies, leading to violence.

Second, the heavily militarized area can only be entered if people pass through three or four military and police checkpoints. Civilian residents are often prohibited from bringing in vital supplies, including gasoline to power their generators and necessary bulk foods for the communities, facing allegations of aiding illegal armed groups. This threatens the communities’ food sovereignty and ability to transport goods. At the same time, the labs we saw had barrels of cement, gasoline, and other chemicals, suggesting complicity between the military and narcotraffickers at checkpoints.

Third, Colombian law allows government seizure of any land used to cultivate illicit crops. The civilian communities unanimously denounce the presence of illicit crops in their territories, but there is little they can do without government involvement. Having been displaced many times already and finally engaging in the process of land restitution, they are once again at risk of having to abandon their homes to find new territory. If the government recognizes the presence of these crops and decides to carry out U.S.-backed fumigation with planes to destroy the crops, as is typical, the chemicals may pollute the land and the river, and the communities could again face displacement.

In order to resolve this very complicated situation, the crops will need to be eradicated, which should be done manually, in consultation with the local communities, to avoid environmental damage and further harm to the communities. More vitally, the paramilitary apparatus needs to be dismantled so that these civilian communities can live without being harassed by either legal or illegal forces.

The Colombian government is using this region as a pilot project for land restitution in a country where 10% of the population is displaced. This has been supported by the U.S. government. The Victims and Land Restitution Law has been a powerful initiative of President Santos to bestow titling rights and documentation of ancestral territory. However, without tackling the underlying issues of criminality and paramilitary power that continue to plague the area, the project is destined for failure.

Seattle Faces the Displaced

Witness for Peace Northwest kicked off its first “Face the Displaced” event of April at Meaningful Movies in the basement of Keystone Congregational United Church of Christ. I was surprised to see how many people were in attendance at this event. After all, who would want to trudge out in the cold Seattle rain on a Friday night? In spite of the dismal weather, the evening proved to be very productive in raising awareness about Colombia.

The first event of the night included an introduction by Regional Organizer, Colette Cosner. Many in the audience were shocked to hear that Colombia has the second worst humanitarian crisis in the world. A perceptible gasp filled the room when this comment was made. This introduction was followed by the showing of Shoveling Water, a Witness for Peace documentary detailing aerial fumigations conducted by the U.S. in the “War on Drugs.” The image that affected me the most was that of emaciated children whose families make their living off of farming coca. Most people think of rich drug lords when they think of the drug trade, few realize the meager existence coca farmers and even fewer how US policy contributes to that existence.

Witness for Peace Colombia delegates shared their personal stories after this showing. You could tell how much visiting Colombia had impacted them, especially as tears welled up in the eyes of one of the delegates. The transformative power of travel was evident throughout the presentation.

The second part of the night involved audience members breaking off into smaller groups to make portraits of displaced Colombians and to discuss what they had just seen in the documentaries. The audience was made up of a variety of people including Meaningful Movies regulars, students, Witness for Peace delegates, immigrants to the U.S., and different social justice advocates. The diversity produced varying reactions during the small group activities. Some groups were busily working away to finish their portraits while others had placed their portrait materials aside to discuss displacement and US foreign policy. I heard individuals discuss other options to solve the War on Drugs other than aerial spraying. A couple from Colombia challenged what they had been shown in the documentaries and were not sure that the entire story was being presented. Some people, including other Colombian immigrants, reacted to this statement and disagreed with the claim.

This night demonstrated the fact that a story is never really one-sided and multiple views can exist over the unfolding of a single event. The case of Colombia, in particular, needs to be examined from multiple angles. There are many different issues and perspectives that need to be taken into account. They key to resolving any conflict is to consider multiple opinions and viewpoints in order to reach the truth of the matter. Discussion, even if it represents contentious views, is what brings important issues into light. One of the problems in regard to U.S. policies toward Colombia has been the lack of any sort of dialogue and, consequently, the lack of any significant attention toward events transpiring there.

Witness for Peace Northwest’s kickoff for National Days of Action for Colombia revealed the importance of local community dialogue for effective global justice initiatives. Although the simple construction of a “Face the Displaced” portrait may not seem like a huge effort toward resolving Colombia’s problems, it represents the surfacing of a crisis that has been mostly hidden.

Megaprojects Threaten Local Communities

by Tony Macias, Mexico International Team

“We know that our life is here in the earth, in the water,” declared a speaker at a recent national conference for the defense of rivers in Paso de la Reina, Oaxaca. “Here, we take care of our river,” asserted another orator. These simple words are a powerful call to action against a proposed massive hydroelectric project on the Rio Verde that would provoke major environmental damages and the displacement of thousands.

The town of Paso de la Reina sits on the western shore of Rio Verde, its fields of corn, lime groves, and pastureland crowding the narrow and verdant river valley. Members of the roughly 1,000-person town use the river for swimming and bathing, fishing, and irrigation. Its waters are available year round, and are a source of gravel and sand for the construction of local buildings. Known as the “mother of our waters”, the river has important spiritual and cultural value for the Chatino Indigenous people living nearby.

Slated for a site upriver from the town center, this hydroelectric dam would create a wall over 500 feet tall and a 7 ½ square-mile artificial lake, flooding nearly 5,000 acres of prime forest and agricultural land. The billion-dollar project would expropriate land from 9 local communities and drastically affect access to fresh water for over 114,000 people in the area . People from Paso de la Reina stand to lose all they have.

The construction of a dam on Rio Verde would permanently alter this landscape and displace thousands of local residents from their traditional homes. Photo by Tony Macias

Oaxacan officials state that the purpose of the dam is to generate electricity and to serve as a source of irrigation for the Oaxacan coast. Municipal authorities predict that the construction of the dam would generate at least 10,000 jobs and would boost the tourism corridor along the coast thus benefiting the economic development of the region.

While these same officials reiterate time and time again that the project would not displace or take land from the people, Paso de La Reina residents aren’t buying it. They fear that after a few years without abundant water, the local agricultural economy will collapse, driving them to abandon their once fertile fields and migrate to nearby cities or even the U.S. in search of work. They don’t believe the government’s promises of cheaper electricity or jobs.

They also know the bitter experience of other displaced communities who were compensated with less desirable land far away without even basic services such as electricity and sewage systems. The now-completed El Cajón Dam in the Mexican State of Nayarit forced hundreds of local residents to move to sub-standard housing that is already decaying just 3 years after its construction. Oaxacan communities displaced by the Cerro de Oro dam are still waiting for over 10 billion pesos that the Mexican government owes them in resettlement costs.

Megaprojects in focus

This proposed dam is part of a larger scheme, the Mesoamerican Integration and Development Project (MIDP- formerly Plan Puebla-Panama), designed to strengthen regional integration and to unite the region through infrastructure and energy. The MIDP proposes nearly 100 large-scale projects from southern Mexico to Colombia.

Part of the free market, free trade economic model promoted by the U.S., MIDP projects are designed to lure foreign investment. According to Gustavo Castro of Otros Mundos, a Chiapas, Mexico- based nonprofit, free trade agreements like NAFTA and CAFTA facilitated foreign investment as a part of wider privatization efforts in these developing countries, but “these investments are not viable without the infrastructure that MIDP provides.”

As of May 2007 over $8 billion have already been invested in these megaprojects. Developing countries finance about one-third of these costs, with another one-third coming from international financial institutions like the World Bank, and the rest from private donors and undisclosed sources. Megaprojects direct huge sums of international loan money away from social programs and small-scale production and directly into infrastructure that most benefits foreign investment. They are usually implemented without consulting local communities and often ignore legal claims made by communal land holders.

More chilling, project defenders have resorted to criminal and violent tactics such as bribes, threats, home destruction and forced removal in efforts to keep projects going. In Guererro and Chiapas, community activists working against megaprojects have been murdered. An engineer with the Federal Electricity Commission put a price on the head of one local activist during the construction of El Cajon dam in Nayarit . Families have been forcibly removed from their homes in Guerrero, Jalisco, and Veracruz. In other states Mexican military have participated in forced removals of communities for these projects.

With the War on Drugs and Terror as a pretext, the Mexican government has used military and federal police as well as paramilitary forces to criminalize social protest. In a telling statement, Mexican president Felipe Calderon likened “out of control” unions to the country’s out-of-control drug cartels, saying both are "roadblocks to institutional order and market-based growth". As more and more communities organize in response to megaprojects , fears grow that violence and repression will be used to ensure that these projects move forward.

Resistance in Paso de la Reina

Road block by local residents to keep out officials who would move the dam project forward. Photo by Tony Macias

However, these chilling precedents have not deterred Paso de la Reina residents from protesting the destruction of their community. In 2007, local communities and organizations founded COPUDEVER to resist the dam project. Three communities, including Paso de la Reina, have voted a resounding “no” to the dam project. As of February 2010, local leaders set up road-blocks to deny state government representatives and Federal Electricity Commission members access to the area.

But Paso de la Reina residents aren’t up against only the Mexican government in their struggle to stop the dam project. They will have to confront International Financial Institutions that play an important role in financing these megaprojects. As one of the major lenders to these institutions, the United States government has tremendous influence over what these institutions fund; the U.S. has used this power to promote the free-trade model in international development loans these institutions provide.

The World Bank and other institutions like the Inter-American Development Bank continue to make loans to Mexico and other Latin American countries to support large infrastructure projects without much oversight. Massive social protest globally has increased public awareness about the problems associated with these projects, so these institutions increasingly work in secret, refusing to divulge details about the projects they fund.

Sign up for Witness for Peace e-mail action alerts to receive updates on this dam and other projects financed by international financial institutions in Latin America.

U.S. Military Bases and Colombia's Displacement Crisis

by Jess Hunter-Bowman, WFP Associate Director

Snow and ice crunched under Marino Cordoba’s feet as he walked home last week. He pulled his collar tight to his neck to keep out the frigid air. He is a long way from his native tropical jungles of Colombia. Marino’s journey from the rainforest of Chocó to the mountains of Bogotá and finally to the snow-covered streets of Washington, D.C. is one of pain, loss and ultimately renewal.

On a December morning over a decade ago, Marino’s hometown of Rio Sucio was ravaged in a joint attack by the U.S.-backed Colombian military and right-wing paramilitary death squads. Even today no one truly knows how many innocent civilians were kidnapped, tortured and killed in the assault. Analysts believe the attack came in response to Marino’s and others’ efforts to access constitutional land rights for marginalized Afro-Colombian communities.

Escaping Death in Colombia

Marino and his family escaped with their lives, but only by hiding in the jungle for days before fleeing their would-be killers, making their way first to the provincial capital of Quibdó before finally settling in Colombia’s capital, Bogotá. “I thought, ‘What am I going to do?’” Marino says as he recalls those first days after fleeing. “Will I make it? Will they catch me and kill me?”

Ever the community organizer, in Bogotá Marino founded AFRODES to support other displaced Afro-Colombians, bringing attention to the killing, kidnapping, and displacement of Afro-Colombian communities.

Gunmen soon tracked Marino down and he was forced to escape to the United States to save his life. “I really didn’t want to leave Colombia,” Marino says. “My family was in Colombia. But my life was at risk and I had no other option but to leave.”

Colombia's Crisis and a U.S. Military Response

Sadly, Marino’s horrific story of loss due to Colombia’s war is not unique. Colombia’s humanitarian crisis is second only to Sudan’s worldwide. Since 1985, over 4.3 million people have been internally displaced in Colombia. Hundreds of thousands more have fled as refugees to neighboring countries.

Soon after Marino and his family fled their native Rio Sucio, policymakers in Washington and Bogotá began to argue that, with Colombia’s drug trade and armed conflict spiraling out of control, only billions in U.S. military assistance and U.S. troops on the ground could save the country.

Nearly $6 billion in military aid since 2000 have secured oil pipelines, government buildings and even improved security in some cities and towns. Yet millions of Colombia’s community organizers, farmers and Afro-Colombians dispute claims that military gains against the guerrillas have translated into improved lives for them. In fact, the U.S.-backed Colombian military has reportedly killed an estimated 2,000 innocent civilians just during President Alvaro Uribe’s time in office. Meanwhile in 2008, over 380,000 people were forced to flee their homes due to Colombia’s war, more than double the number displaced when Marino and his family fled Rio Sucio.

Expanded U.S. Military Presence in Colombia

Yet despite this alarming situation, rather than heed the calls of people like Marino to de-escalate military aid to the brutal Colombian military, the Obama Administration recently signed a 10-year deal with Colombia allowing U.S. troops to operate out of seven Colombian military bases to fight what the U.S. Air Force called “narcotics funded terrorist insurgencies” and “anti-U.S. governments” in the region.

In part, the U.S. bases in Colombia will replace the U.S.’s Forward Operating Location in Manta, Ecuador. When a 10-year lease expired on the Manta base last year, Ecuador asked the U.S. military to leave the country.

While some were hopeful President Obama would reverse the U.S. disastrous course in Colombia, this deal is a strong indication otherwise. Major aspects of Plan Colombia that were once subject to annual congressional approval are now seemingly locked in for another decade. The U.S. military can now carry out joint operations with the hemisphere’s worst human rights violators; engage in lethal counterinsurgency training; and provide real-time intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance capabilities with little to no congressional oversight.

Military Bases Lead to Regional Tensions

Yet this deal is not only controversial within Colombia. As the U.S. Air Force itself stated in a May 2009 statement to Congress, these bases in Colombia will be a jumping off point for U.S. military escapades across Latin America to combat “anti-U.S. governments”.

Such revelations have led Venezuela’s President Hugo Chavez to put his troops on war alert. The demands of major South American powers, including Brazil and Argentina, for explicit guarantees that the U.S. bases will not be used to attack neighboring countries have fallen on deaf ears in Washington.

Back in bone-chilling Washington, Marino continues his work for peace, justice and Afro-Colombians’ rights. He is working tirelessly to block the U.S. military bases deal. “These U.S. bases in Colombia will worsen the conflict,” reports Marino. “They will not resolve the problems that we have in Colombia. What we need is respect for life in Colombia.”

Song of Loss, Song of Hope

by Melissa Cox, Colombia International Team

I first met Daira Quiñones, a courageous community leader, when I interviewed her for the National Days of Action for Colombia. She shared with me a pain so raw and an insatiable commitment to justice so deep that it permeates every facet of her being. Even in the face of threats against her own life and the brutal murders of the most important people to her, she is not silenced—she continues to speak out against the assaults on humanity. Since hearing her story, I have not been able to get it out of my mind. I hope that you can’t forget it either. Do not let her stand alone.

To hear her story check out her video blog below or read Fleeing the Guns of Big Business.

Fleeing the Guns of Big Business

by the Colombia International Team

Daira recalls her beloved village El Por Venir as a tight-knit community where people once moved freely and sang and danced into the late night. They had complete food sovereignty--growing traditional food crops and medicinal plants. However, today, Tumaco, the region where her village is located, is known for the large-scale cultivation of palm oil used for bio-fuels and for the devastating effects of Colombia’s internal conflict. In Tumaco, Nariño, 28,531 people have been forcibly displaced from their homes since 2002, the year that Alvaro Uribe Velez was elected president of Colombia.

In 1999, after helping her community gain legal access to 182 hectares of land, land that was and continues to be of interest to the palm oil industry, Daira began receiving death threats. Painfully aware of the links between big business and the paramilitaries hired to protect corporate interest at any cost, Daira recalls, “I knew that one day it would become too dangerous and that I would have to flee. I received threats like, ‘Shut up or we will cut off your tongue and gouge out your eyes.’” Tensions escalated and the situation became unbearable when the president of the community council and 6 others were violently murdered.

In 2001, Daira left behind the only life she ever knew—her loved ones, community, house and garden—and fled to Bogotá “alone, horrified, hopeless, desperate, and penniless.” Having cried every day for the first two years, Daira says, “I still have a deep pain in my heart, but I have learned to swallow the tears most days.”

Although Daira dreams of some day being able to return to her hometown El Por Venir, she knows it is still too dangerous to go back. With the December 2009 murder of her sister in Tumaco still fresh on her mind, she says, “It is like they are still telling me to shut up or else.” Refuting claims that Colombia is safer for all Colombians, Daira explains,

“We, the civilian population, are caught in the middle of a violent struggle between the military, the guerrilla and the paramilitaries---the illegal dark body of the government. The government wants everyone to believe that the conflict is over and there is only violence because of the guerrilla, but that is not true. We are being massacred for all of the richness that this country has—the oil, the emeralds, the minerals—even the water and the air.

We have lost thousands and thousands of good, brave people, but the truth of what is happening is being hidden. Everyday there is more and more impunity in this country. There is no truth, justice and reparations for the victims…that is the reason that I work to increase the social consciousness of people in Colombia. People do not realize that as soon as you leave Bogotá the conflict is very much alive.”

With her experience as a displaced community organizer, Diara helped found FUNDARTECP (Foundation for Art and Culture of the Pacific). Through FUNDARTECP, Diara works with other displaced people who arrive in Bogotá without “a place to live, food to eat or health insurance. They are scared, disorientated and desperate.” FUNDARTECP provides a myriad of services helping with everything from people’s basic material needs to workshops on dance, music, identity and human rights. “My mom taught me to sing,” says Daira with tears in her eyes as she remembers her mother who was violently murdered in Tumaco several years ago.

"Singing makes me happy and it is a means of resistance. Music helps us understand things that war cannot take away from us. It is an opportunity to move people, people who are tired and not interested in many things can still be moved by music—it motivates them and strengthens their spirit."

The work of FUNDARTECP focuses largely on Afro-Colombian women. According to Colombia’s Constitutional Court, Afro and Indigenous women are more vulnerable because they confront “triple discrimination for being women, displaced and an ethnic minority.”

Through FUNDARTECP, Daira and 280 women work with other displaced people, as well as with communities in Tumaco, to recuperate their culture, memory, identity and to revive hope and inspire new dreams. “When people are so violently murdered it affects the dreams and the hopes of the entire community—everyone is affected. I know that I, that we, must keep dreaming. When we stop dreaming then everything ends.”

When asked what message she would send to President Obama and the people of the United States, Daira answered,

“I would say that the people in Colombia are suffering. We do not need weapons or bases or more of these war policies being imposed on us. We need our children to be educated. We need people to have their land, to have houses and to have options. We need opportunities for a better country. When all the young people are sent to the army, how are we supposed to be able to escape this war and the war mentality? What are they going to learn there? They are going to learn to kill—kill their own countrymen, their brothers and their sisters.

You have already done enough. We need to be able to rise up from the ashes and construct our own history and our own process.”

Take Daira's story to your community and President Obama. Join the National Days of Action for Colombia:

Host a “Face the Displaced” gathering in March. Ask your school club, congregation, or peace and justice group to help frame the faces of courageous displaced Colombians like Daira (see above). Thousands of these poignant portraits will later be unveiled in eye-catching displays and delivered to representatives of the Obama Administration. Email ben@witnessforpeace.org for an organizing packet.

Honoring Colombians: Why Did Dolls Work?

by Anne Barstow, Rutgers Presbyterian Church of NYC

Having tried a number of ways to make the Colombian displaced persons crisis real to our congregation, I thought I was open to any approach. But when I was told last year that we should honor Colombians by making paper dolls, I said no way. I thought the idea was silly and inappropriate and that it denigrated a very serious crisis in the lives of millions of people.

Still, having nothing better to offer, I took the project to our congregation’s Peace and Justice Committee. To my surprise they took to the idea and even carried it further. They argued that since the crisis is so urgent - the second worst internal displacement crisis in the world - we must dignify it by making the paper dolls during the Sunday morning worship service. I was aghast. I figured that people would walk out! But the Committee was enthusiastic about the idea, so I was stuck with it.

On the appointed morning I gave the usual Moment for Mission, full of my personal witness of having been in the displaced persons' communities, explaining why, although Colombia is a rich country, thousands are hungry and homeless there. Then I dropped the bomb: "We are going to cut out as many paper dolls as we can. Each one will stand for 1,000 displaced persons. Make them young and old, black and white, but make them all painfully poor. We will send them to the White House, asking for a more humanitarian policy towards Colombia." Ushers passed out scissors and paper, and the congregation got to work.

A deep hush fell over the sanctuary; people were focused on writing messages on the back of the dolls. I remember seeing business men in pin-striped suits jostling to get their turn with the scissors. Maybe eight or ten minutes passed; it didn't matter, no one wanted to hurry. Finally the organ broke into a Latin American hymn, ushers collected the dolls and brought them to the communion table, we offered prayers of dedication that these gifts of ours would speak to the powers in Washington who can affect the fate of the displaced. A small miracle had occurred - our well-heeled congregation had heard the message of the dispossessed, had reached out and touched them, as it were.

Next day one of the Elders told me that the service "rocked," that it was one of the most memorable worship experiences he had ever had. I am still pondering why it "worked." Of course "doing something" always makes us feel a bit better. But some projects seem like a Mickey Mouse waste of time, whereas this exercise had moved people right out of their comfort zone. Was it that we had held a Day of Prayer for Colombia twice before, with the opportunity for petition signing, and that this had prepared us for a deeper experience? I'm still not sure. But I am now convinced that everyday activities, even the children's game of cutting out dolls, belongs in worship, even in our sanctuaries, when we are rightly prepared for it.

I am looking forward to this year's assignment, constructing displays of photos of the displaced themselves. Their faces will speak to us, I am sure.

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From Dolls to Faces

Help your faith community take a stand for Colombia in this year’s Days of Prayer and Action:

1. Hold a Colombia-focused worship service in April. Click here for a packet of sample sermons, prayers, scriptures, and other helpful materials. Email ben@witnessforpeace.org if interested.

2. Host a “Face the Displaced” gathering in March. Get your adult education class, peace and justice committee, or university club together to frame the faces of those currently displaced in Colombia. Thousands of the poignant portraits will later be unveiled in eye-catching displays and delivered to representatives of the Obama Administration. Email ben@witnessforpeace.org for an organizing packet.

For more information, visit witnessforpeace.org/peaceincolombia.

Memory as Resistance: Part 2

by Colette Cosner, WFP Northwest Regional Organizer

I remember watching one night as human rights defenders from NOMADESC - an organization playing a key role in the investigation of human rights violations in Valle de Cauca - chain-smoked against the skyline. The next day one of them showed me his bullet scars after I had fallen behind the group. We were walking around the militarized perimeter of a hydroelectric dam responsible for displacing 15,000 people. As if cities on a map, he oriented me to the wounds of his body and the risk of supporting land rights for people over multi-national corporations and mega-projects.

Our group listens beside the lake created by the hydroelectric dam project that displaced 15,000 Colombians

I am losing my balance on a rickety suspension bridge in Triana. The bridge connects this small Afro-Colombian community to a highway mega-project. It wasn’t until I was safe on the other side that I remembered why we had crossed. “We were dancing when a tinted truck pulled up outside. Hooded men with guns got out. People were so scarred they contemplated jumping off the bridge,” said a young woman whose father was a victim of an extra-judicial killing—the assassination of innocent civilians by military or paramilitary actors, who then dress victims up in guerilla clothing. Raising “the body count” often results in rewards for the perpetrator.

We went to the river above Triana because that’s where the bodies were found, all eight of them. “There were eight because he liked the number eight,” another woman explained. (Residents of Triana share their experiences of fear and violence.)

I wondered if black birds spray-painted on houses were a cultural symbol of the indigenous reserve we visited. I learned later they were death threats from the paramilitary group Las Aguilas Negras (The black eagles). An indigenous youth leader from the Honduras reserve told us: “Assassinations in Colombia are not about killing people, but about killing ideas.”

Despite this he goes on to explain to us a vision. There are many people who believe the indigenous people of Colombia don’t want development and trade, but what we heard articulated was quite different. “What we want is a trade agreement between communities, not corporations. What we want is development that sustains our dignity and relationship to mother earth. What we don’t want are agro-industrial projects imposed on us by terror."

Memory as Resistance in Colombia: Part 1

by Colette Cosner

I was in Colombia when the earthquake hit Haiti. I was also in Colombia when the news coverage of the tragic event turned rapidly into a barrage of congratulatory human interests pieces. While the international community, and in particular the U.S., applauded itself for the rapid humanitarian crisis response, I took down testimonies of massacres, sifted through notes about the crisis we don’t talk about and for which there will be no outcry.

There are over 4 million people in Colombia who are refugees in their own country--the world’s second largest internal-displacement crisis (after Sudan), stemming from two generations of war and systemic economic violence. My time in Colombia was spent trying to untangle the interplay of theses forces of war and exploitation from each other and from U.S. foreign policy. Colombia is the largest recipient of U.S. military aid in Latin America and a key component of our free trade ambitions in Latin America. But I fear that disentangling these problems does its own damage. By disconnecting the trigger puller from the gun maker, do we absolve ourselves from the shot?

A woman from the National Movement of Victims of State Crimes shares with us the story of her nephew's assassination.

In witness work we learn that memory is a tool of resistance, that first person accounts of those affected by conflict are key tools in understanding and advocating against injustice. But what I remember was being jealous of a poet and fellow delegate, how he wrote with a fever and made sense of Colombia through art. I have 80 pages of massacre testimonies, assassination stories, and documentations of threats. Yet when I try to explain to people what’s happening in Colombia, my notes fail me.

There are many statistics I could share with you: how Colombia has the worst human rights record in the western hemisphere, how despite the $6 billion dollars the U.S. gave Colombia to fight the War on Drugs, coca production has slightly increased. I could share with you statistics linking multi-national corporations to paramilitary violence, or denounce the pending Free Trade Agreement between the U.S. and Colombia for relying on those links. I could denounce the number of assassinations of union leaders, of human rights defenders, and community activists. But I won’t do that here.

Don’t get me wrong; the battle of statistics has its place. But I’ve also seen how it dehumanizes the lives of the very people we are trying to know. The passing of the U.S.-Colombia Free Trade Agreement hinges on an improved human rights record in Colombia. So while Congress may have to decide if 34 union leaders killed this year (as opposed to last year’s 46) is good enough reason to pass an ostensibly anti-union trade agreement, we, as U.S. citizens, must decide to look beyond marginal improvements and listen. Facts can be used to create distance between us and a memory, resistance in its purest form.