in focus 17 final - welcome to the united nations anderson recalls how native societies inspired the...

Poverty Number 17, May 2009

International Policy Centre for Inclusive GrowthPoverty Practice, Bureau for Development Policy, UNDP

IndigenisingDevelopment

2 International Policy Centre for Inclusive Growth

F R O M T H EE D I T O R S

A mong the many social groups that have been historically excluded, indigenouspeoples comprise one that offers great challenges to development. Although

their assimilation has been a goal of the national societies that engulfed them,it is disputable whether indigenous peoples desire the type of social inclusion thatdevelopment, in its many forms, can produce. At the same time, development seemsirreversible, and resistance to it might have consequences far more adverse than thosebrought by acceptance. The best way to overcome the challenges seems to be toindigenise development: to put it to work on behalf of indigenous peoples insteadof putting them to work for a model of development that is not only alien to thembut that frequently does violence to their culture. With this in mind:

Alcida Rita Ramos, Rafael Guerreiro Osorio and José Pimenta introduce the theme and thechallenges to indigenising development, considering points raised by the other contributors.

Gersem Baniwa writes about the dilemmas that development poses to indigenouspeoples in Brazil, who simultaneously want to enjoy its benefits, particularly the materialand technological resources of the modern world, and to also keep their traditions.

Myrna Cunningham and Dennis Mairena explain that the very concept of development isinimical to some core values of many indigenous cultures of Nicaragua, such ascollective labour and property, egalitarian distribution, and holistic world views.

Jaime Urrutia Cerutti presents his thoughts on why in Peru, unlike Bolivia and Ecuador,there is no massive and strong social movement of indigenous peoples. The indigenouspopulation comprises the majority in these three Andean countries, and is alreadyintegrated into their modern national societies.

Stuart Kirsch departs from the concept of human development to show how a miningproject in Suriname might enhance the economic freedom of some indigenous groupsat the expense of some other important freedoms associated with being indigenous.

José Pimenta tells the success story of an Ashaninka group in Brazil who became anarchetype of the ecological indian, running sustainable development projects, andmanaging and protecting the environment. This success was context-specific, however,and was not without cost to their way of life.

Charles R. Hale recalls the dramatic impacts of the civil war on the indigenous peoplesof Guatemala. Caught between the state and the guerrillas, they have been throughgenocide, and modest advancements achieved earlier were reversed. A re-emergingMaya social movement now faces the resistance of the country’s elite.

Bruce Grant takes us back to the Soviet Union and pinpoints some of the differencesof socialist development, showing how it affected indigenous peoples in Siberia whowere paradoxically seen as both a model of primitive communism and of backwardness.It was a dear goal of Soviet planners to make them leap forward as an example of thebenefits of socialism.

David G. Anderson considers how the dismantling of the Soviet Union affected indigenouspeoples in Siberia. Current Russian models of indigenous development are worthconsidering because they are not purely capitalist: private corporations that take overprojects assume many of the roles of the former socialist state in welfare provision, andthe overall repercussions are both favourable and otherwise.

Bernard Saladin d’Anglure and Françoise Morin discuss the impact of the colonisation anddevelopment of the Arctic on the Inuit. Charged by the Soviet Union for neglecting thehuman development of the Inuit, Canada devised a policy that succeeded in raisingtheir material standards of living while culturally impoverishing them.

Carolina Sánchez, José del Val, and Carlos Zolla emphasise the importance of monitoringthe welfare and development of indigenous peoples by devising culturally adequateinformation systems. They summarise the state-of-the-art proposals, outline the maindemands of indigenous leaders and experts as regards such systems, and present thesuccessful experience of their programme in Guerrero, Mexico.

We hope that the articles in this issue of Poverty in Focus help raise awareness inthe development community about problems that do not have immediate and easysolutions, but that are crucial to shaping the present and future of indigenous peoples.

The Editors

Poverty in Focus is a regular publication of theInternational Policy Centre for Inclusive Growth(IPC-IG). Its purpose is to present the resultsof research on poverty and inequality in thedeveloping world. Support is provided bythe Swedish International DevelopmentCooperation Agency (Sida).

Editors

Alcida Rita Ramos, Rafael Guerreiro Osórioand José Pimenta

International Advisory Board

Desktop PublisherRoberto Astorino

Copy EditorAndrew Crawley

Front page : Suruí men in the indigenousland Sete de Setembro, Brazilian Amazonia(Cacoal, RO). Capacity building course on theuse of new technologies by the Equipede Conservação da Amazônia, ACT Brasil,www.actbrasil.org.br. Photo by Fernando Bizerra.©ACT Brasil. IPC-IG and the Editors thank ACTBrasil and the photographer for grantingpermission of use.

Editors’ note: IPC-IG and the editors gratefullyacknowledge the generous contributions,without any monetary or material remuneration,by all the authors of this issue.

IPC-IG is a joint project between the UnitedNations Development Programme and Brazil topromote South-South Cooperation on appliedpoverty research. It specialises in analysingpoverty and inequality and offering research-based policy recommendations on how to reducethem. IPC-IG is directly linked to the PovertyGroup of the Bureau for Development Policy,UNDP and the Government of Brazil.

IPC-IG Director (a.i.)Degol Hailu

International Policy Centre for InclusiveGrowth (IPC-IG), Poverty Practice,Bureau for Development Policy, UNDP

Esplanada dos Ministérios, Bloco O, 7º andar70052-900 Brasilia, DF Brazil

[email protected]

The views expressed in IPC-IG publicationsare the authors’ and not necessarily those ofthe United Nations Development Programmeor the Government of Brazil.

Oscar Altimir, CEPAL, Santiago de ChileGiovanni A. Cornia, Università di FirenzeNora Lustig, Universidad Iberoamericana, MexicoGita Sen, Indian Institute of Management, BangaloreAnna Tibaijuka, UN Habitat, NairobiPeter Townsend, London School of EconomicsPhilippe van Parijs, Université de Louvain

Poverty in Focus May 2009 3

by Alcida Rita Ramos, University of Brasilia;Rafael Guerreiro Osório, InternationalPolicy Centre for Inclusive Growth; andJosé Pimenta, University of Brasilia, Brazil

IndigenisingDevelopment

Sovereignty, self-governmentand self-determination arecore values in the Westernworld, but they are seldomcontemplated in relationto indigenous peoples.

To indigenise developmentis to take into accountthe indigenous versionof these values.

Above all, indigenisingdevelopment requiresa drastic change inattitude on the part ofdevelopment planners.It is crucial that they recognisetheir ignorance about thingsindigenous, and admit fromthe start that they do notknow what is best forindigenous peoples.

It is imperative thatindigenous people participateand, most importantly, thattheir opinions are heardand heeded, includingtheir right to say no.

* United Nations website:<http://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/en/history.html>.

The United Nations PermanentForum on Indigenous Peoples estimatesthat throughout the world there are370 million indigenous people inabout 70 countries who “have retainedsocial, cultural, economic and politicalcharacteristics that are distinct from thoseof the dominant societies in which they live”.*

Retaining such characteristics, however,has been very difficult because mostnation-states have sought to assimilateindigenous people. Blunt statements tothat effect are no longer acceptable inmany political arenas, as shown by thefact that 144 countries voted for approvalof the 2007 United Nations Declaration onthe Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

Nevertheless, in actual practice,dominant societies continue to followassimilationist policies in different ways,mostly in the name of development forall. But it is clear that, more often thannot, development has had dreadfulconsequences for indigenous peoples,pushing entire societies into newconditions of poverty and even extinction.

The concept of development has anumber of different connotations.Although one might regard the wholehistory of mankind within the frameworkof development, contemporaryconceptions of development are actuallya Western product that was perfected,most particularly, during the Cold War.

Following World War Two, developmentwas conceived in strictly economic terms.Attendant on the quest for GDP growthwas the general belief that economicdevelopment would yield development inother spheres of life. Developmentin any society was thought to followan evolutionary process: from basiccommodity suppliers, through capitalaccumulation to industrialisation,

in turn leading to urbanisation and“modernisation”. According to liberaltheorists, the final product ofdevelopment would be the establishmentof meritocratic democracies with marketeconomies, social protection and mildsocioeconomic inequality. Marxisttheorists went further and positedegalitarian stateless societieswith collective ownership ofthe means of production.

Involuntarily, indigenous peopleshave played a contradictory role in thisprocess. While they revealed alternativeways of life and thus inspired notableWestern thinkers whose socialphilosophies helped shape the modernworld, they were also regarded as crude,primitive and uncivilised. Two of ourcontributors remind us of this.

David Anderson recalls how nativesocieties inspired the accounts of thehighly mobile and egalitarian societiesimagined by both Marxist and liberaltheorists as the ultimate outcome ofdevelopment. Bruce Grant shows howSoviet planners regarded Siberiannative people as both the prototype ofprimitive communism and exemplarsof the backwardness that socialistdevelopment should and would eradicate.

The development of indigenous peoples,ethnocentrically understood as theirassimilation into the civilised world,became an international concern inthe Cold War years. As Bernard Saladind’Anglure and Françoise Morin tell us, theSoviet Union accused Canada of ignoringthe human development of the Inuit.

In response, the Canadian governmentdevised a strategy for Inuit developmentwhich, apart from its ideological slant,resembled that of socialist planners fortheir own indigenous peoples. According


What is this about development?

In my homeland I used to calmly wake up in the morning. I didn’t have to worry aboutclothing because my house was isolated, surrounded by my gardens and the forest.I would quietly admire the immense nature of the Santiago River while my wife lit thefire. I would bathe in the river and at daybreak go off in the canoe to bring some cunchisor catch some mojarras. Without worrying about time, I would return home. My wifewould joyfully welcome me, cook the fish, and give me my cuñashca as I warmed myselfby the fire. We would chat, my wife, my children and I till we had no more to say.Then she would go to the garden and my son and I to the forest. While walking in thebush I would teach my son about nature, about our history, everything according to mytaste and the teachings of our ancestors. We would hunt and cheerfully go back homewith the game. My wife would happily welcome us, having just bathed and combed herhair, with her new tarache. We would eat until we were full. I would rest if I wished,otherwise, I would visit my neighbours and make crafts; soon my relatives would arriveand we would drink masato, tell tales and, if everything was all right, we would end updancing all night.

Now with development things have changed. There are morning hours for labor.We work the rice fields till late and return home with nothing. My wife, grumpy,con las justas, gives me a dish of yucca with salt. We hardly talk; my son goes to schoolwhere they teach him things about Lima. After harvest, a thousand squabbles to earn apittance. Everything goes to the truck driver, to the shopkeepers. All I take home aresome little cans of tuna fish, a few packages of noodles, but what is worse is that thistype of agriculture eats up communal land and soon there will be none left.I can see all my fellow countrymen rummaging all the garbage dumps in Lima.

When I was in Bogotá I wanted to know how the millionaires lived and they told me thatthe millionaires have their isolated houses amidst beautiful landscapes; they calmly getup in the morning to admire the landscape, bathe and return with breakfast readywaiting for them, and as there is no hurry, they chat leisurely with their wives andchildren. The children go to a select school where they learn according to their fathers’tastes. The man strolls through his property and shoots at some birds or goes fishing,and on his return he finds the table set and the lady well groomed for lunch. He sleepsafter the meal or does some painting or any other hobby such as carpentry. Then he goesout for a drink with friends and, if they want, they can dance as much as they feel like.

Then I ask myself: does this all mean that I and all my fellow countrymen will end up inthe garbage dumps so that one or two millionaires can have the life we used to have?What is this about development?

Andrés Nuningo Sesén, a Huambisa Indian from Peru

Source: Ramos, A. R. (1998). Indigenism: ethnic politics in Brazil.Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press. p.195.

to these authors, the Inuit achieved acertain Western standard of living,as did the Siberian groups discussedby David Anderson and Bruce Grant beforethe dismantling of the Soviet Union.But material improvement broughtabout various degrees of assimilationthat resulted in the loss of intangiblegoods and cultural impoverishment,especially for the Inuit.

Whether in the Marxist or liberalmode, development always entails theexploitation of natural resources, whichmakes indigenous people an “obstacle”to progress. They occupy lands oftenrich in resources that are covetedby the dominant societies. To assimilateindigenous peoples, therefore, orsimply to usurp their lands, hasbeen considered a necessary stepin fostering development.

National interest, often translated asthat of particular economic groups,has always taken precedence overindigenous interests, as Jaime Urrutiareminds us. For most of the twentiethcentury, regardless of ideologicalchanges, the treatment accorded toindigenous peoples was very similarto their treatment during the centuriesof European expansion and colonialism.

Critiques of purely economicdevelopment have led to the concept’sfurther elaboration into enlarged versions,such as “human development”, “sustainabledevelopment” and “development withidentity”. The latter two are most oftenapplied to indigenous people, albeit interms of discourse rather than action, asJaime Urrutia and José Pimenta point out.In the case of “sustainable development”there is the added risk of equatingindigenous peoples with nature—forinstance, as a species of the rain forest.

From the Western point of view,indigenous development has mostlyrevolved around the issue of landrights: how to exploit indigenousnatural resources without confrontingcontemporary ethical sensibilities?

Land-grabbing has had a major impacton indigenous lives. Consequently,the struggle for land recognition andterritorial autonomy has been a constant

concern. This issue is discussed by almostall the contributors. Myrna Cunninghamand Dennis Mairena report some advancesin this respect among the indigenouspeoples of Nicaragua’s Atlantic coast, asdo Bernard Saladin d’Anglure and FrançoiseMorin in their discussion of the CanadianInuit. However, these are exceptionsrather than the rule.

Indigenous land problems range fromlimited rights to no rights at all. TheAshaninka of the Amônia River in theBrazilian Amazonia have recently hadtheir land demarcated, as José Pimenta

describes, but under Brazilian law theyhave no rights over the subsoil. StuartKirsch adds that the Lokono and the Trioof Suriname, with untitled lands, areforced to endorse development projectson the grounds that this is the onlyway to secure some benefit from miningoperations on their territory.

The recognition and demarcation ofindigenous land is crucial. As GersemBaniwa states, without land rights it isimpossible for indigenous peoples evento think of development. Unlike thestandard Western views of development,


for many indigenous peoples, nature isnot—to paraphrase Cunningham andMairena—a grocery store at the service ofmen. Land and resources are not reducedto mere economic assets; they are pillarsof a life in which the economic sphere isbut one among many and quite oftensubsumed under others, including beliefsystems. Development planners, however,have systematically ignored the culturaldimensions that distinguish indigenouslogic from Western logic.

Indigenous people have felt and resistedthe negative impacts of development.Bewildered and distressed, manyindigenous leaders have questionedthe principles and logic of development,and have spoken, usually to deaf ears,against the abuses committed in itsname. There are plenty of testimonialreports by indigenous persons to thateffect. How better could we sketch thetraps of development for indigenouspeoples than to present the compellingmessage by Andrés Nuningo Sesén, aHuambisa man from Peru, which isreproduced in the box?

His message underscores the factthat development generates povertyand severe inequality where therewere none before, that it confrontsindigenous peoples with programmesthat are alien to their way of life,a point much stressed in thecontributions to this issue.

Even among the rare cases in whichnative people escaped materialdeprivation, one finds alcoholism,prostitution, obesity and alarmingrates of suicide among young people.

Though development has not beenso beneficial to indigenous peoples,it has brought about undeniable gains.As Sen (1999) has stated, never in historyhave so many lived so well andso long as today.

Indigenous peoples are aware of thisand want to share in the benefits ofthe modern world. As Gersem Baniwanotes, it is not a matter of demonisingand rejecting development unreservedly.Stepping aside is not a feasible optionin this day and age. Either indigenouspeoples master development, or

they are overrun by it. The key issue, then,is how to indigenise development.

But to convert development into anindigenous enterprise is not so easy.As development necessarily brings aboutchange, it is imperative that indigenouspersons acquire the skills to “dominatethe dominating system”, as Gersem Baniwaputs it. Furthermore, there is the risk thatthose equipped to deal with Westernpolitics and bureaucracy may be viewedwith suspicion by their fellows.

A major obstacle to indigenisingdevelopment is racism. Nation-stateelites ignore or deny the capacity ofindigenous peoples to forward theirown view of development and devisestrategies to carry it out. Charles Halegives an account of the Maya ofGuatemala. Though perfectly ableto construct their own forms ofdevelopment, and having surviveda genocidal war, they find themselvesencumbered by racism.

The idea that indigenous peoplescannot learn the ways of the West isstill widespread, despite the presenceof outstanding indigenous intellectualsand politicians.

There are no ready and easy waysto bring acceptable development toindigenous peoples. Besides the centralissue of land rights, two other keyproblems must be tackled: informationand participation. Development makeswide use of statistics and socioeconomicindicators. As Carolina Sánchez, José delVal and Carlos Zolla assert, access toinformation is still the Achilles heel ofindigenous development. The traditionalindicators of development are muteabout spheres of life that are importantfor indigenous peoples.

A new set of indicators is needed tomeasure and monitor how indigenouspeoples are faring. This involves majormethodological challenges, starting withhow to properly identify indigenouspeoples in primary data collection.

Finally we come to the issue ofparticipation. Sovereignty, self-government and self-determination arecore values in the Western world, but

they are seldom contemplated inrelation to indigenous peoples.To indigenise development is to takeinto account the indigenous versionof these values. If indigenous peoplesare to participate in developmentprocesses, they must participateactively in them. Not all of themmay be prepared to do so, just asnot all Westerners are. To fullyunderstand what is involved indevelopment processes, particularlythe long-term outcome of someprojects, indigenous peoples should betrained specifically for this purpose.

Above all, indigenising developmentrequires a drastic change in attitudeon the part of development planners.It is crucial that they recognise theirignorance about things indigenous,and admit from the start that theydo not know what is best for indigenouspeoples. Without an exercise of humility,a necessary condition for proper learning,developers will continue to makethe traditional mistakes regardingdevelopment among indigenous peoples.

Hence it is imperative that indigenouspeople participate and, most importantly,that their opinions are heard andheeded, including their right to sayno. In short, no one knows better thanindigenous people themselves what sortof development is most appropriate forthem, and, being appropriate, has thebest chance of success.

Sen, A. (1999). Development as Freedom.New York, Random House.

Bewildered anddistressed, manyindigenous leadershave questionedthe principlesand logic ofdevelopment, andhave spoken, usuallyto deaf ears, againstthe abuses committedin its name.


Thinking about policies forindigenous development in Brazilrequires some knowledge of thehistorical processes of economic, politicaland cultural domination suffered byindigenous peoples. Any new proposalsfor changing the relationship betweenthe Brazilian state and indigenouspeoples will have to involve thedeconstruction of the many formsof exploitation that were historicallyimposed on those peoples. Brazilianpublic policies have always sought tointegrate and assimilate them into thenational society, with a disregard forindigenous forms of economic andsociocultural organisation. The first steptowards change is the dismantling of thecurrent policy framework, marked bywhat are termed “assistentialist” practicesand by political patronage.

If change is to be made, some key issuesshould be tackled. One is the territorialquestion. Unless indigenous peoplesenjoy guaranteed land rights, it is notpossible to think of their economic andsociocultural development. In Braziltoday, more than 600 indigenous landsare awaiting regularisation. A second issueis the need for effective recognition—political, administrative and juridical—ofindigenous peoples as autonomoussocial units endowed with specificcollective rights, as stipulated in theBrazilian constitution. The third issue isthe need to devise policies, programmesand actions that give priority to theadvancement and realisation of local andethnic capacities, building on human andnatural resources, as well as ontraditional knowledge.

Current policy formulas, even ifsuccessful in other settings, cannot beunthinkingly transposed and applied toindigenous peoples. This has been themain sin of the so-called project culture

or “projetismo”, wherein developmentprojects are considered as ready-madepanaceas with universal application(Verdum, 2006). Indigenous peopleshave different needs for which provisionshould be made, notably their culturalspecificities and particularly thoseregarding their own representations oftime, space and rhythm, their economiclogic, and their means of production,distribution and consumption. Moreover,programmes and actions for indigenouspeoples cannot be simple components ofgeneric policies. They must be guided byappropriate principles and criteria, andthey should have their own safe, efficientand sufficient funding sources and theirown administrative structures.

In Brazil there are some innovativeexperiences based on conceptual andmethodological advances. These includethree programmes of indigenous orethno-development that are worthmentioning. The Ministry of theEnvironment oversees the ProjetoDemonstrativo dos Povos Indígenasand the Carteira Indígena. The formeraims to fund local sustainabledevelopment projects, as well as topromote the institutional strengtheningand leadership building of indigenousorganisations. The latter programmefinances small projects related to foodproduction and handicrafts. The BrazilianDepartment for Indigenous Affairs (FUNAI)runs the Programa de Proteção das TerrasIndígenas da Amazônia Legal, whichpromotes enforcement of land rights.

Despite the innovative aspects of theseexperiences, some problems have notbeen overcome. In light of currentprocesses of social and economicdevelopment, the impact that suchprogrammes have on indigenouscommunities yield some lessonsto be learned (Baniwa, 2006).

To Dominate theSystem and Not to beDominated by it

by Gersem BaniwaCentro Indígena de Estudos e Pesquisas

(CINEP) and Ministry of Education,Brasilia, Brazil

Contemporary indigenouspeoples do want accessto the material andtechnological resourcesof the modern world.

It is difficult to imaginethe state implementingpolicies, programmes andactions that follow a pureindigenous logic.

The economy for indigenouspeoples is part of a wholethat cannot be split.It should be understoodin its relationships andinterdependencies with thenatural, social, cultural andsupernatural environments.


The first is that these programmesare demanded because they are oftenseen as means of fitting into Westernstandards, of achieving higher socio-political status, of gaining accessto technology and of enjoyingthe benefits of development.

The second lesson is that theseprogrammes become instrumentsof power, status and privilege fornew indigenous leaders and theirorganisations.

The third is that the management logicof such programmes overtly contradictsthe social, political and economic logic ofindigenous peoples. Indigenous leaderswho become involved in managing theseprogrammes can be persecuted, mobbedand even subject to death threats, sincetheir activity is often taken as a disregardfor tradition. Nonetheless, indigenouspeoples are not willing to give up theprogrammes, because they are the onlymeans of bringing the technological andmaterial benefits of the modern world totheir tribes.

Contemporary indigenous peoplesdo want access to the material andtechnological resources of the modernworld. They take this as a legitimate andlawful right, since they are aware thatcontact with the surrounding world,whether the relationship is symmetricalor asymmetrical, is irreversible. This leadsthem to re-think their conditions ofexistence and ethnic continuity—not torenounce or deny their culture but toupdate it according to their own wishesand goals.

Development projects, once they areframed in terms of indigenoussociocultural horizons, even in a limitedway, may help reshape the battlefield ofpolitical and economic forces in a waythat favours the true coexistence ofcultures in a single nation-state. In adynamic, plural coexistence of distinctlifestyles and worldviews, indigenouspeoples ably manoeuvre and haveshown that they do consciouslysomething that Westerners seemincapable of doing: instead of excluding,they put together the diverse knowledgeand technologies found in theinter-ethnic arena.

Given the social and historical context inwhich indigenous peoples live, scrutinyof the feasible alternatives available tothem shows how partial is the naïve ideathat development projects are necessarilyharmful and unilaterally imposed. Theyindeed have many negative consequences,since they seek to offer instructionsfor integration into the modern world,but they should not be demonised.

As Sahlins (1978) has observed about thePacific Basin, indigenous peoples fightfor development projects, willing to bethe protagonists of their own history,just as they did throughout the processof European colonisation, to which theydid not succumb. And they do not standby passively when faced with theperversity of the modern capitalistworld, even when their local leadersare victimised (Baines, 1991).

The main point is not whether toaccept or deny the current modelof development projects imposed bythe state, but to transform it into whatcontemporary indigenous peoples want;not to get rid of development, but toindigenise it. It is difficult to imagine thestate implementing policies, programmesand actions that follow a pureindigenous logic. Money, equipment,technologies and everything that isidentified with development can hardlybe incorporated without causing changeand even breaks with tradition.

Indigenous peoples thus have to dominatethe dominating system so as not to bedominated by it. Their resistance is notmerely defensive, but also offensive:appropriation of the dominating systemis a proactive way of maintaining theirotherness and ethnic autonomy.

The major challenge, therefore, is toenable indigenous peoples to establishfor themselves the dynamics of theirinteraction with the surroundingworld and its limits. This is the politicaltask that ethno-development projects,theoretically, should accomplish in orderto minimise the adverse impacts ofintegration processes.

Conflicts and contradictionshappen because indigenous peoplescannot pierce the bureaucratic and

administrative shield thatprevents them from being part ofdecision-making processes, and thustheir efforts to dominate the dominantsystem are frustrated. Since they still facemany obstacles to exerting their rightto have their voices heard and to havedecision-making power over projects thataffect them, they have to rely on non-indigenous advisors to help them finda path through the bureaucratic jungle.

The commitment of those advisors ispositive in the sense that it helps tolessen the likelihood that menacingprojects will be implemented. But ifthe relationship with outside advisorsis vertical, and the capacity to deal withthe state and donors is not transferred,dependency is created, hindering theadvance of indigenous peoples’protagonism.

To conclude, in order to put developmentat the service of indigenous peoplesinstead of at the service of those whostand to prosper from their exploitation,some points must be considered. Oneconcerns the participation of indigenouspeoples in all stages of policymaking:design, implementation, monitoringand evaluation.

Participation, however, will not sufficeif they do not fully understand inwhat they are being involved. Heavyinvestment in capacity building amongindigenous peoples is thus essential.Non-indigenous professionals andadvisors should be gradually replaced byindigenous professionals, who will takeover projects, programmes and actions.

Services such as education, health andsocial assistance should be increasingly

The major challenge,therefore, is toenable indigenouspeoples to establishfor themselves thedynamics of theirinteraction with thesurrounding worldand its limits.


It is a common mistake to definedevelopment in terms of increasedproductivity, modernisation, technologyand wealth accumulation. Wealth is seenas the possession and accumulationof material goods. Such a concept ofdevelopment is exogenous toindigenous peoples.

For the indigenous peoples of Nicaragua,development—as a tool for survival andwell-being—is based on the rational andsustainable exploitation of the naturalresources available in their lands.They do this following ancestralprinciples that express a holistic view ofthe interaction between humanity andthe environment; collective labour andownership; and the implementation andtransmission of traditional knowledge.The soil, water, flora and fauna areamong the resources used in theirterritories, where humans are justanother interacting element.

In the case of the Mískitu peoples,development is linked to what is calledlaman laka, which can be interpreted asthe rules of coexistence, offeringharmony within the family regardless ofage or gender. It might be taken as whatsome sociologists and anthropologiststerm “social fabric”. Laman laka establisheseconomic norms on land use, signifying“if I have you have it, if you have it I haveit”. This involves labour exchange or panapana, which allows interaction betweenpeople and which is marked by the valueof the word, respect for the family, trust,ethnic loyalty and the commonwealth.

Such a framework produces tacitagreements on the use of the ecosystem,whereby everyone knows whereindividual crops are to be sown, wherethe areas of collective use are located,where to hunt and fish, and whererelations with the spiritual worldare established.

provided by indigenous teachers,doctors, nurses and social assistants.Indigenous rights should be championedby indigenous lawyers. Technicalassistance in rural activities, as wellas in biodiversity management andpreservation, should also be providedby trained indigenous people. Theseprofessionals will be better prepared toserve their communities, allying westernknowledge and practices to those oftheir own culture in order to satisfy theirdemands. Furthermore, they will solvethe problem of intermittent support,since they will be permanently availablein the communities.

Indigenising development also implieshaving ethno-sustainability as a principle,means and goal of development. A holisticview of the complex indigenous reality is

thus required. This is needed in order togo beyond the hegemonic logic that putsthe economic dimension of life as anoverwhelming determinant of all others.

Monetary income, for example, issomething that indigenous people canuse only to acquire food, goods andtechnology from the outside world and,though needed, it can come to weakenindigenous cultures’ ways of usingnatural resources to produce thegoods on which they have traditionallyrelied, creating or raising externaldependency. Such impacts shouldbe carefully considered.

The economy for indigenous peoples ispart of a whole that cannot be split. Itshould be understood in its relationshipsand interdependencies with the natural,

social, cultural and supernaturalenvironments. Without such a changein approach, development policies forindigenous peoples will be doomedto a contradiction between their meansand goals.

Baines, S. G. (1991). É a FUNAI que sabe:A Frente de Atração Waimiri-Atroari.Belém, Museu Paraense Emílio Goeldi/CNPq/SCT/PA.

Baniwa, G. (2006). Projeto é como brancotrabalha; as lideranças que se virem paraaprender e nos ensinar: experiênciasdos povos indígenas do Rio Negro. M. A.Thesis, Anthropology Department,University of Brasilia.

Sahlins, M. (1978). Culture and practicalreason. Chicago, University of ChicagoPress.

Verdum, R. (2006). Etnodesenvolvimento:nova/velha utopia do indigenismo. Ph.D.Dissertation, CEPPAC, University of Brasilia.

by Myrna Cunningham K.and Dennis Mairena A.,

Center for Indigenous People’s Autonomyand Development (CIPAD),

Nicaragua

Laman Laka:If I Have It You Have It,If You Have It I Have It

For the indigenous peoplesof Nicaragua, development—as a tool for survival andwell-being—is based onthe rational and sustainableexploitation of the naturalresources available intheir lands.

This model of developmentis being threatened fromthe outside by loggingin the river heads and basins.


In Nicaragua, indigenous peoples havehad their rights to ownership of ancestrallands protected by autonomy statutesthat created autonomous regions in thecountry’s Caribbean area. Significantsteps were taken towards demarcatingand titling the territories of manyindigenous peoples. All this is tied to asystem of ancestral communitarianinstitutions, which in turn are linked tothe territorial government at themunicipal and regional levels. Currently,efforts are being made to establishinteractions in the provision of healthcare, education, communitarian justiceand the election of authorities. All of thiscan be regarded as an inward-orientedframework of governance.

There is another, outward-orientedsphere of development that focuses onrelations with the state and other actors.In this sphere, indigenous peoples haveto take into account collective interests,and have to manage and negotiate, forinstance, the granting of concessions orthe massive use of natural resources bythe community or outsiders. After thedestruction caused by Hurricane Felix inSeptember 2007, for example,communities and regional authorities setprovisions for the use of fallen timber inbuilding individual houses andcommunal infrastructure. Surpluses offallen timber were sold to outsiders, tonon-members of the communities and topeople from other regions.

Both inward- and outward-orientedrelationships have become part of theNicaraguan constitution, which stipulatesthat development is the result ofbalanced, multiethnic and multiculturalinterrelations marked by the right to self-determination and guided by the regionalautonomy statutes. This opened thedoors to citizenship rights, and todayindigenous peoples have access to powerand the right to make their own decisions.

Some examples illustrate this conceptof development and how it works.The products of hunting or fishingare usually distributed or exchangedbetween members of the community,as are grains, tubercles and timber.Hunting and fishing within theterritory are divided in time and space.

These activities are not always carriedout in the same place and they are notfrequent. Remote places are chosen,which might entail several days oftravel from the community. This practiceinvolves a collective effort among severalmen, strengthening communitarianunity and allowing the intergenerationaltransmission of knowledge of themanagement of nature. Among the Ramapeople, the extraction of oyster shells inthe Bluefields Lagoon is something donemostly by children, teenagers andwomen, and it takes place very close tothe community. So too does the collectionof coconuts in coastal indigenous

communities. Regardless of thedifferences, all these activities are markedby a high sense of the collective aspect oflabour and of the distribution of its fruits.

The rainforest and the pine plains, thelagoons and the shores, the keys andthe reefs, do not consist only of thewealth inherent in their high biodiversitycontent, which from the outside could beviewed as a mega-supermarket. Forindigenous peoples they are somethingmore far-reaching. In principle, theyrepresent the survival and developmentof culture, of spirituality, and they arealso a source of food, housing, health,education, and the instruments oflabour and of households. They providefor everyone and for everything.

This model of development is beingthreatened from the outside by loggingin the river heads and basins, a resultof the advancing agricultural frontiersand the presence of invading settlers; andby chemical pollution due to themisuse of pesticides in the highlands,the residues of which are drawn to thecoastal lagoons and reefs, poisoningeverything in their path.

The effects of climate change are alreadybeing felt in the territories, in the form oflarger and more frequent hurricanes andfloods that menace the biodiversity andthe crops. Hence the life and welfareof indigenous peoples are jeopardised.

by Jaime Urrutia CerutiCentro Regional para la Salvaguardiadel Patrimonio Cultural Inmaterial deAmérica Latina (CRESPIAL),Cusco, Peru

Ethnic Identity andDevelopment in PeruExcept for small isolatedcommunities, the indigenous peoplesof the Andean countries, particularlyin Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador, are largedemographic groups fully connectedto the modern national societies inwhich they live. The social movement ofindigenous peoples in Peru, in contrastto those in Bolivia and in Ecuador, hasnot been an important political actor.This difference between the three

countries has been the subject of anumber of analyses based on varioushypotheses. The lack of politicalmobilisation among Peru’s indigenouspeoples makes it harder for themto have a voice in policymakingand development planning, as well asto resist development projects thatare culturally threatening. It alsomakes them more prone to succumbto efforts at cultural homogenisation.

In Peru, the Aymaraand Quechua peoplesof the Sierra highlandshave chosen the “peasant”identity in their questfor citizenship. To beincorporated into Peruviansociety, they renounced theirindigenous identities andcultural expressions.


The weakness of indigenous peoples’organisations in Peru stems partlyfrom the absence of indigenous elites,which hinders the formation of an“identitarian” discourse to fosterpolitical mobilisation. For that reason,many of those who deal withindigenous issues in the countryhave an essentialist, exotic andsuperficial view of the “native peoples”.Identity building entails the creationand strengthening of indigenouspeoples’ leadership and organisations.In Peru, there are virtually no indigenousorganisations except in theAmazonia region.

In Ecuador and Bolivia, the indigenousmovement has been a major player onthe political scene for several decades.This is due to the presence of a strongindigenous identity rooted in deepsymbolic references, as well as toidentitarian discourses, which areused to foster mobilisation and givecohesion to political action. In Peru,by contrast, the Aymara and Quechuapeoples of the Sierra highlands havechosen the “peasant” identity intheir quest for citizenship. To beincorporated into Peruvian society, theyrenounced their indigenous identitiesand cultural expressions.

This might be because Peruvian societyis more permeable than Ecuadorean orBolivian society. Hence the choiceof a peasant identity might serveas a means to upward mobility.In Ecuador and Bolivia, ethnic leadersand organisations point to the existenceof a “fixed identity” that prevents thoseindigenous peoples living in povertyfrom accessing channels for upwardmobility, and thus from having greaterincome and higher living standards.

A common feature of these threecountries is that their currentconstitutions and official statementsstress that they are multilingual andmulticultural societies. Recently, theterm “multiculturalism” has been usedincreasingly to affirm a purportedpositive dialogue between differentcultures, although it does somisleadingly. Moreover, thanks to theintervention of international financialagencies, a paradox of globalisation

these days is that there is great interestin building and strengthening indigenousorganisations. This approach helpsundermine the view, still prevalentin Peru, that regards indigenouspeoples as peasants.

In the new and recently approvedconstitutions of Ecuador and, particularly,Bolivia, recognition of indigenouspeoples is key to the political conceptionof both nations. Laws and norms,however, are in a realm far abovepractices on the ground, where in manypublic institutions, private enterprisesand political parties, the concepts ofmulticulturalism and multilingualism areseldom applied and marginalisation ofthe “other” culture, which does notcomply with the hegemonic one,is still the rule.

Currently, in Peru, there is widespreadawareness of the vital need to listen tothe voices of those who allegedly areto be beneficiaries of social policies anddevelopment projects, as well as theneed to decentralise publicadministration in order to implementprogrammes that are better tailored totheir target groups. But it seems thatmuch time will be needed before theseideas are put into practice, beforeconcrete programmes and projectsstart to take account of the voicesof the indigenous peoples thatwill be affected.

For these voices to be heard inpolicymaking and developmentplanning, two key questions must beanswered. What is meant by development?And how can it be achieved withoutdisregarding the cultural characteristicsof indigenous peoples?

Since the establishment of nation-statesin Latin America, the presence ofindigenous peoples was almost alwaysperceived as an “obstacle to development”.This ideological assessment led tothe exclusion and marginalisationof indigenous peoples, not only fromfull citizenship but also from governmentpolicies that essentially sought to bringabout the cultural standardisation oftheir nations following the patternsof the hegemonic culture, the onebequeathed by the European colonisers.

This objective, for instance, wasclearly stated in Article 75 of thePeruvian constitution of 1828:“The duties of these [provincial]boards are … to endeavour toreduce and civilise the neighbouringindigenous tribes of the province,and attract them to our society bypeaceful means”.

These are not only nineteenth-centuryviews. Mainstream conceptions ofdevelopment still reflect the goal ofcultural homogenisation, and theydisregard indigenous rights andindigenous views of development.Recently, in Colombia, indigenouspeoples refused a governmentproposal to establish a ruraldevelopment policy on the groundsthat it would affect their territorialrights and autonomy. Their protest wasnot an isolated one; there have beenmany more in the Andean countries.

In the past few decades, particularlyin Bolivia and Ecuador, the politicalparticipation of indigenous peopleshas intensified and they have graduallystarted to devise and present their owndevelopment proposals. Some of theseproposals call into question the veryconcept of development.

In this regard it is worth quotingCarlos Viteri, an Ecuadorean indigenousintellectual, who once said:

“In the weltanschauung of indigenoussocieties, in their understanding of thepurpose and meaning that the lives ofpeople have and should have, there isnot a concept of development. That is,there is no conception of life in a linearprocess, establishing a before and an

Since the establishmentof nation-states inLatin America,the presence ofindigenous peopleswas almost alwaysperceived as an “obstacleto development”.


after stage, namely, sub-developed anddeveloped; dichotomy through whichpeoples must pass to achieve a desirablelife, as in the Western world. Nor thereare any notions of wealth and povertydetermined by the accumulation or lackof material goods”.*

Even without wishing, in so few lines,to engage in a discussion of thisradical questioning of the concept ofdevelopment, one must recognise thatthe expectations of indigenous peoplesare divorced from the developmentproposals made by the public apparatus.“Development with identity” requiresthat the two be reconciled.

Albeit slowly, increasing awarenessof the need for this reconciliationhas given strength to some sustainabledevelopment proposals based oninitiatives arising from indigenousorganisations. These proposals bringtogether territorial development andcultural identity under the umbrellaconcept of “development with identity”.Governments that want their policiesand development programmes to meetsome of the prime expectations ofindigenous peoples can learn someimportant lessons from these proposals.

Essentially, they involve threesignificant issues for indigenous peoples:recognition of land and territory, oflanguage, and of collective rights.

Recognition of their lands as territoriesthat have some degree of autonomy isarguably the main claim made byindigenous peoples, but it is a claimthat politicians and bureaucrats areunwilling to address. The state, byreserving the right to undergroundresources, prioritises what it regardsas the “national interest” (that is,investment from large corporationsthat will exploit natural resources) at theexpense of indigenous people’s rightsto their ancestral lands. Additionally,settlers and enterprises routinelyoccupy land.

A recent mobilisation of indigenouspeoples from Peruvian Amazoniasought the state’s full recognitionof the communities’ lands, rejectingwhat they called, ironically, “the law of

the jungle”, which was a governmentattempt to ease private access tocommunal lands and foster“development”. Any such developmentproposal will be doomed to failureand will cause unnecessary conflictif it does not recognise and delimitthe ancestral lands of indigenouspeoples in line with their expectations.Resistance to menacing developmentproposals, however, depends onthe level of political mobilisation,which in Peru is higher amongAmazonian indigenous peoples.

The second issue is the defence andstrengthening of indigenous languages,including full recognition of the right tobasic education in those languages.From an intercultural perspective,this is important in order to reinforceidentities and raise the self-esteemof indigenous individuals. Identityand self-esteem are crucial for politicalmobilisation, as well as for buildingthe leadership and organisationsthat can make viable developmentproposals in line with indigenouspeoples’ expectations and offer resistanceto proposals that are threatening.

The third issue is recognition of collectiverights, including the rights to land,territory and to basic education inindigenous languages. Collective rightsalso encompass knowledge, skills,techniques and diverse cultural practices.

“Development with identity” refers toinitiatives that seek to combine theneeds of indigenous peoples, as theythemselves see them, with the needs ofdevelopment seen through western eyes.On the one hand, no matter how wellintended, no development proposalformulated in a western mould willsucceed without consultation andadaptation to the needs of theindigenous peoples involved.On the other hand, no developmentproposal advanced by indigenouspeoples will be viable if it doesnot seek harmonious relations withnational society and take account oftheir insertion into that society.

Recognition of theirlands as territories thathave some degree ofautonomy is arguablythe main claim madeby indigenous peoples,but it is a claimthat politiciansand bureaucrats areunwilling to address.

The state, by reservingthe right to undergroundresources, prioritiseswhat it regards as the“national interest”at the expense ofindigenous people’srights to theirancestral lands.

* Speech at the symposium on “Indigenous Rightsand Development in Latin America”, Germany, 2004.


When Amartya Sen (1999)redefined development in terms offreedom, he argued that politicalfreedoms are required along with security,opportunity and transparency to realiseeconomic development. Central to hisperspective is the recognition that thegoal of development is to enhancehuman freedom, including people’sability to shape their own destiny.Sen’s work also promotes the values andinstitutions of the liberal democratic state.Dipesh Chakrabarty (2000), however, hasargued against the identification of themodern state with freedom, an identityachieved through projects of reform,progress and development that may becoercive or violent. Also at risk indevelopment projects are other freedomsthat may not be acknowledged orprotected by liberal states.

For indigenous peoples, the balancebetween freedom and development isalways delicate, as can be learned fromthe case of a bauxite mining project inwest Suriname.* The author visited theOk Tedi copper and gold mines inPapua New Guinea and seen firsthandthe devastating consequences of theproject (see Kirsch, 2006) the experienceencouraged the author to move back inthe production cycle to collaborate withindigenous communities that wereat risk from new mining projects.

A key challenge of this work is thedifficulty in conveying the stakes ofthese development projects to peoplewho lack previous experience ofnegotiating with mining companies.Even witnessing the impacts of decadesof bauxite mining in east Suriname wasnot enough to dissuade the Lokono andTrio from supporting the Bakhuis project,because the mining company assuredthem that the new project would bedifferent. The purpose of the author’s trip

by Stuart Kirsch,University of Michigan,

Ann Arbor, United StatesFreedom andDevelopment inSuriname

was to assist these communitiesby contributing to an independentreview of the corporate-sponsoredenvironmental and social impactassessment of the bauxite mine.

The Lokono and Trio peoples livingalong the Corantijn River generallysupport the mining project in theBakhuis Mountains because of theeconomic benefits they hope it willbring them, though they also expressconcerns about its social andenvironmental impacts.

But their ability to consent to the projectis compromised by Suriname’s refusal torecognise indigenous land rights, whichcontravenes its international obligations.Suriname approved the 2007 UnitedNations Declaration on the Rightsof Indigenous Peoples, but in 2008the Inter-American Court criticised thecountry for ignoring indigenous andMaroon land rights. For the Lokonoand Trio, their lack of legal title to theirland creates a double bind: they mustendorse the project if they wish toinfluence it or benefit from itsoperation. The result is a coerciveform of participation that bears littleresemblance to the standard of free,prior and informed consent.

Attitudes towards the project havealso been influenced by the lack ofindependent information about thesocial and environmental impacts of thebauxite mine, which is expected to strip-mine at least 5 per cent of its 3,000 km2concession during a period of 50 years.Even with the promise of progressivereforestation, the effects of the projectare likely to be extensive and long-lasting, including potential impacts onthe three major watersheds of the region:the Corantijn, Nickerie and CoppenameRivers. The bauxite mine may also affect

For indigenous peoples,the balance between freedomand development is alwaysdelicate, as can be learnedfrom the case of a bauxitemining project inwest Suriname.

Even witnessing the impactsof decades of bauxite miningin east Suriname was notenough to dissuade theLokono and Trio fromsupporting the Bakhuisproject, because the miningcompany assured themthat the new projectwould be different.

At present they expectthe development of themine to provide themwith new forms of economicfreedom, but it may alsoreduce other importantfreedoms associatedwith being indigenous.

* The work of the author in Suriname was supportedby the International Development Research Centre,the North-South Institute and the Association ofIndigenous Village Leaders in Suriname (Bureau VIDS).Acknowledgements go to the Lokono and Trio captainsfor their assistance, and to Carla Madsian for her insightand translations.


Maroon communities living onthe Nickerie River and indigenouscommunities located on the Guyanesebanks of the Corantijn River.

Central to indigenous identity inSuriname are practices of hunting andfishing in the rain forest. The Lokono andTrio value their freedom of movementand are able to use the resources ofother indigenous peoples once theyhave secured their permission. PaulRiesman once described the importancethat the Fulani attach to independence,suggesting that the principle of freedomis “founded on the possibility of eachperson’s entering into a direct relationwith … nature without the mediation ofanother person or any social institution”(Riesman, 1998, p. 257). Something similarmight be said about the Lokono and Trio,who equate freedom with being able toleave the village on hunting and fishingtrips to the rain forest.

The Lokono, however, have alreadyobserved a decline in certain fish speciesand game animals, and the miningproject will certainly have further impactson local wildlife. The mining concessionwas off-limits to local use during theexploration phase of the project.A proposed conservation area would notprohibit indigenous hunting and fishing,but neither would it guarantee theLokono and Trio future access to theselands. In response to a question aboutthe potential effects of the mine on theenvironment, one of the indigenousleaders declared that if hunting andfishing were no longer possible in thevicinity of their villages, they would askthe mining company to provide themwith transport to better hunting andfishing grounds. It is difficult for them toimagine a world in which they would nolonger have free access to the forest forhunting and fishing, a circumstance thatwould contravene one of their strongestcultural values, yet the mining projectmay hasten its materialisation.

Specialised knowledge about the rainforest, including traditional medicines,is decreasing across generational lines.More fundamentally, their underlyingrelationship to the forests and theanimals that live there are alsovulnerable to change. These interactions

include making libations and directinvocations to the animals huntedor the trees cut down as a way of askingpermission, as one must ask the ownersof the land before using their resources.There are also rules to guide interactionswith animals and trees, rules that favourconservation over accumulation. A sacredrelationship connects these people tothe landscape in ways that transcendeconomic value, including compensation.

Despite their ties to place, the Lokonoand Trio have become enchanted bythe prospect of economic development.Although the men recognise thatmodern mining projects providerelatively few jobs, they hope the minewill have a trickle-down effect on thelocal economy. Comparative evidence,however, suggests that when economicopportunities arise, people with greatersocial capital will be better placed toexploit them. The main economicconcerns of the women in thesecommunities are related to the ways inwhich gender roles have already beenaffected by the cash economy. In thepast, there was a complement to theirsexual division of labour.

For example, both men and womencontributed labour to making gardens,with men clearing the forest and womenplanting, weeding and harvesting theplots. In contrast, men now have greatercontrol over financial resources andwomen object to their increasingdependence on them. The women hopethe mining project will stimulate thelocal economy, creating opportunitiesfor them to become more directlyinvolved in the cash economy andindependent of men. Finally, young mensupport the mining project because oftheir desire for vocational training, jobopportunities and university education.

With the development of the mine,the region will become more denselypopulated. People will open businessesto provide supplies to the mine. Thetown will become a magnet for peopleseeking employment, many of whomwill stay even if they do not find jobs.Members of the indigenous communitiesexpressed concerns about the influencethat people with different cultural“manners” and practices will have on

their lives, especially on local women.Currently, outsiders tend to beassimilated into local modes ofinteraction, such as asking permissionbefore using local resources, but thisdynamic is likely to change along withregional demography. The very thing theindigenous communities are trying tosafeguard through new economicactivity—good life in the villages—isvulnerable to elimination by an influxof outsiders.

In the wake of the global economicdownturn, the primary developer haswithdrawn from the bauxite projectin west Suriname, although thegovernment continues to search foran alternative corporate partner.The resulting hiatus provides the Lokonoand Trio with an opportunity to considerwhether the proposed mining project iscompatible with their most importantcultural values, including their freedomto hunt and fish in the rain forest, thekinds of relationships they have with thetrees and animals with which they sharethe landscape, and the kinds of socialrelations they have among themselves.At present they expect the developmentof the mine to provide them with newforms of economic freedom, but it mayalso reduce other important freedomsassociated with being indigenous,freedoms that are not recognised orprotected by the state.

Chakrabarty, D. (2000). ProvincializingEurope. Princeton, Princeton University Press.

Kirsch, S. (2006). Reverse Anthropology.Stanford, Stanford University Press.

Riesman, P. (1998). Freedom in Fulani SocialLife. Chicago, University of Chicago Press.

Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom.New York, Random House.

Specialised knowledgeabout the rain forest,including traditionalmedicines, is decreasingacross generational lines... relationship to theforests and the animalsthat live there are alsovulnerable to change.


“Development” is intimately relatedto the history and pretentiousuniversalism of western thought(Rist, 1997), which makes it hard forthose socialised under it to understandand accept other visions of the world.In the West itself this notion has beenchallenged, adapted and renewed inorder to overcome the negativeconnotations that have become attachedto it over time and to ensure that itcontinues to spread. This has led toan expansion of the definition, yieldingconcepts such as “eco-development”,“ethno-development”, “endogenousdevelopment” and “developmentwith identity”. Among these enlargeddefinitions, that of “sustainabledevelopment” became the overarchingpolicy framework for the BrazilianAmazonia. The move towards sustainabledevelopment called attention to theenvironmental consequences of classic“development” and its negative impacton the welfare of indigenous peoples.Conceptual changes, however, were notenough to overcome all the drawbacksof the approach. This article addressesthe paradoxes and challenges ofsustainable development through a casestudy of the Ashaninka of the AmôniaRiver, who enjoyed relative success infitting into this framework.

The Ashaninka people live in a wide anddiscontinuous territory that extends fromPeru’s Selva Central region to the head ofthe Juruá River in Acre, Brazil. Only afraction of them, about 1,000 people, livein Brazilian territory, half of these in thevicinity of the Amônia River. In fourcenturies of contact with the westernworld, the Ashaninka experienceddifferent kinds of “development”.Historically, “development” andcolonisation were intertwined leading totheir exploitation and forced integrationinto the dominant society. “Civilization”and “development” were brought aboutby various agents: missionaries, settlers,rubber tappers, ranchers, politicians,

by José Pimenta,University of Brasilia, Brazil Twisting Development:

the Ashaninka Way

private companies, guerrilla movementsand so on. Contact with the bearersof “development” had dramaticconsequences, such as epidemics,slavery and forced acculturation.

In the first half of the 1980s, theAshaninka were particularly affectedby the policy of the military dictatorship(1964–1985) to colonise the BrazilianAmazonia. This policy was marked by thetraditional approach to “development”and an effort to “integrate” indigenouspeoples into the dominant society.Their territory became prey to loggers,and wood extraction rates skyrocketedto feed the ever hungry saw mills. Greatharm was done to the environment:deforestation, pollution of rivers and lossof biodiversity. The native way of livingwas jeopardised by environmentaldeterioration that hindered vital activitiessuch as hunting and fishing. During thisperiod, Ashaninka families were obligedto work for loggers in the semi-slaverysystem of debt peonage. The situationbegan to change in the early 1990s.With the support of several partners,the Ashaninka organised to expel theloggers and to demand the demarcationof their land from the Department forIndigenous Affairs (FUNAI), a demandthat was met in 1992.

Thereafter, Ashaninka leaders began toexpress their political and cultural claimsusing the environmental rhetoric of“sustainable development”. By doingso they were able to implement severalprojects: handicraft production and trade,reforestation of areas degraded bylogging, and wildlife management.In the last 15 years, thanks to thesuccessful outcomes of these projects,the Ashaninka of the Amônia River haveattained an unprecedented level ofpolitical visibility and have becomearchetypical examples of the “ecologicalindian”. Although politically efficient inthe current historical context, there arecaveats about this image of “ecological

Ashaninka leaders began toexpress their political andcultural claims using theenvironmental rhetoric of“sustainable development”.

The Ashaninka of theAmônia River have attainedan unprecedented levelof political visibility andhave become archetypicalexamples of the“ecological indian”.

The same people who oncedestroyed the forest andpolluted the rivers nowpurport to show theAshaninka the right way tofish, hunt and plant with dueregard for the environment.


indians”, since the notion might reignitethe old “myth of the good savage”.This is a form of prejudice that reducesindigenous peoples to an animalisedstatus, part of nature instead of culture.

While the Ashaninka see representativesof the western world, essentially, asnature predators, many sustainabledevelopment projects, despite theirnew clothes, retain the old discourseof bringing civilization to the savagesand have embedded the paternalismthat has long marked interethnic relations.Several good initiatives that claim tovalue indigenous culture and lifestyleculminate in asymmetrical relationshipsin which white people play the role ofinstructors. The same people who oncedestroyed the forest and polluted therivers now purport to show theAshaninka the right way to fish,hunt and plant with due regard for theenvironment. Sustainable developmentplanners view Ashaninka culture in astereotyped way that does not reflectreality but rather the fantasies of westernsocieties about what indigenous peoplesand cultures are and how they behave.Hence the people involved in theseprojects end up trying to teach theAshaninka their own culture. Fully awareof this and many other paradoxes,the Ashaninka react with irony andperplexity to such attempts to teachthem to be themselves.

Generally speaking, the problemof the “new” ideology of sustainabledevelopment is that it continues toprioritise economic matters rather thansocial, cultural and environmental issues,even though it seeks to diminish thenegative impacts of traditionalconceptions of “development”.Furthermore, sustainable developmenthas not managed to overcome thewestern worldview’s historical lack ofcapacity to deal with cultural diversity.Since nature is still considered aneconomic resource, albeit one thatshould be carefully explored so as notto exhaust it, sustainable developmentprojects retain a vision of integratingindigenous societies into the marketeconomy. This commodity logic is aliento the Ashaninka culture, in which tradeis guided by a gift logic.

The Ashaninka have a pragmatic view ofsustainable development projects. They

see them as a way of acquiring essentialwestern goods on which they havebecome dependent, such as salt, soapand ammunition. They have “indigenised”sustainable development, thinkingof “projects” as a semantic equivalent of“commodity”. Their desire for projects hasbecome analogous to their desire forother plain goods from white people.Sustainable development became anew means of trading with outsiders,interpreted from the perspective of theirtraditional trade logic (Pimenta, 2006).

However, when they try to adapt therules of a commodity economy to theirgift system, the Ashaninka pose newchallenges for themselves. Insertion intoa “project market”, for instance, has ledto the concentration of political andeconomic power among them.The increasing trend towards wealthaccumulation threatens their egalitariantradition. Bringing about theirparticipation in the market economywithout introducing social inequalityhas become a source of significantconcern. Living through the period of“sustainable development” is, perhaps,the major challenge for the Ashaninka,as it is for some other indigenouspeoples in Amazonia.

Some projects, though limited andbiased, arise from a real concern for andcommitment to the environment and thefuture of indigenous peoples. But thegenerality of the multiple meaningssurrounding the idea of sustainabledevelopment have made an umbrella ofthe concept, under which vested interestsgather. Stamped as sustainabledevelopment, some projects receivefunding from multilateral developmentagencies even though they fosterthe colonisation of indigenous landsand the predatory exploitation of theenvironment, thereby spreading themaladies they should be fighting andin many cases resulting in ethnocide.

Intense wood extraction in the PeruvianAmazonia, for example, impacts theAshaninka of the Amônia River andother indigenous peoples, including theremaining isolated groups that are notin contact with the modern world inthe Peru-Brazil border areas. On theother side of the border, the Braziliangovernment’s current developmentstrategy (the Growth Acceleration

Programme or PAC), though tingedby greenish rhetoric, has also beenregularly accused by indigenous andenvironmentalist organisations ofdisregarding indigenous rightsand threatening the environment.

To the Ashaninka, sustainabledevelopment presents itself asproductive “misunderstanding” (Sahlins,1981). It allows them to acquire much-desired western goods without losingtheir particular identity. Notwithstandingits enormous challenges, for themsustainable development is an economicalternative to predatory logging. Despitethat, it is important to bear in mind thatthe relative success of the Ashaninkaof the Amônia River as archetypes ofthe “ecological indian” is due to a specifichistorical context, which allowed themto value their “culture” in the inter-ethnicarena by making their territoryproductive in the eyes of the West.

Other Ashaninka groups in Braziland in Peru, however, have notsucceeded in taking advantage ofsustainable development. They continueto suffer the consequences of the manyversions of western developmentand green capitalism. Sustainabledevelopment can be promising, butit must not be reduced to the simplecommoditisation of the indian (Ramos,2006) and indigenous lands, nor serve asa cloak for the West’s greed. To fulfil itspromises, sustainable development mustbe thought of as “developments”, theplural denoting true respect for diversity,which encompasses complex culturalsettings and a variety of historicalsituations, different worldviews andlong-term societal goals.

Pimenta, J. (2006). “De l’échange traditionnelà l’économie du ‘développement durable’.La notion de ‘projet’ entre les Ashaninka duHaut-Juruá (Amazonie brésilienne)”, Cahiersdu Brésil Contemporain 63/64, 17–50.

Ramos, A. R. (2006) “The commoditisationof the indian”, in: Darrell Posey e MichaelBalick. (eds), Human impacts on Amazonia:the role of traditional ecological knowledgein conservation and development.New York, Columbia University Press.

Rist, G. (1997). The History of Development.From Western Origins to Global Faith.London, Zed Books.

Sahlins, M. (1981). Historical Metaphors andMythical Realities. Structure in the EarlyHistory of the Sandwich Islands Kingdom.Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press.


Indigenous poverty in Guatemala todayis both scandalous and paradoxical.The scandal is rooted not just in themind-numbing statistics but, morecentrally, in the underlying relationsof racial inequality. A large percentage ofGuatemalans are poor; the gap betweenthe poverty rates of indigenous peopleand the dominant-culture ladinos is wide(World Bank, 2004); and racism playsa major role in these disparities. It isnow widely affirmed that during theinternal armed conflict the Guatemalanstate committed genocide against theMayan people. Persisting poverty andinequality amount to a continuationof that genocide by other means.

The poverty scandal coexists,paradoxically, with a dramatic rise inindigenous organisations since the1980s. These efforts have challengedracism, opened spaces for autonomousorganisation and forced the state torecognise indigenous rights. However,such achievements have had twoperverse effects: deeper socioeconomicdivisions among the Maya; and a readyalibi for the state, which diverts attentionfrom the root causes of social suffering.

Despite wide agreement that thesituation is bleak, the details are subjectto dispute. Official statistics report that40 per cent of Guatemala’s roughly 13million people are indigenous, whilemany Maya intellectuals charge“statistical ethnocide” and placethe figure much higher. Multilateraldevelopment organisations affirm thelink between poverty and racism, butthey portray racism as collections ofaberrant attitudes rather than asrelations structured into the veryeconomic model that they uncriticallyendorse. Anti-poverty programmes focuson brute deprivation, less on inequality,and not at all on the genocidal

by Charles R. Hale,Teresa Lozano Long Institute of

Latin American Studies,University of Texas at Austin,

United States

From Genocide toDevelopment:the Mayas of Guatemala

consequences of the malign neglectthat the system fosters. Dominant actorsrecognise Maya political-cultural rights,but discourage the extension of thisdiscussion into the economic realm.Now that cultural rights have a placein the national political arena, the nextchallenge for Maya organisations isto re-centre economic well-beingas a key component in their struggles.

Widespread indigenous mobilisationin the 1970s had a strong economicdimension, which was overshadowedby the political violence that followed.Green revolution technologies, combinedwith effective, cooperative organisation,generated prospects for sustenance andeven modest economic advancement,without the need for labour to migrateto the plantations. At the same time,those who continued as semi-proletarians began to clamour for higherwages and better working conditions.

These economic demands, combinedwith modest political and culturalaffirmation, were too much for thepowers-that-be to tolerate. Staterepression and guerrilla organisationgrew in tandem, each feeding on theother. When the state unleashed itscounterinsurgency campaign in fullforce, rural Mayas—whether they hadbeen organising autonomously, joinedthe guerrilla, or simply had been caughtin the sweep—bore the bruntwithout distinction.

Their economic advances succumbedto genocidal ruin: 200,000 dead anddisappeared; 626 villages razed; 1.5million refugees and internally displaced(CEH, 1999). Not until the mid 1980s,when the armed conflict had mostlysubsided and the trappings ofdemocracy were reinstated, could theMaya begin to pick up the pieces.

It is now widely affirmed thatduring the internal armedconflict the Guatemalan statecommitted genocide againstthe Mayan people.

Persisting poverty andinequality amount to acontinuation of thatgenocide by other means.

Widespread indigenousmobilisation in the 1970s hada strong economic dimension,which was overshadowedby the political violencethat followed.

The government nowacknowledges the racismof decades past and admitsthat vestiges persist,but affirms its decliningimportance and offers thesevery acknowledgements asevidence of the decline.


With the late 1980s as a dismal baseline,and comparatively favourable overalleconomic conditions over the nextdecade, it is shocking how little progresswas made towards the elimination ofindigenous poverty. Overall economicgrowth between 1990 and 2000 was arespectable 2–3 per cent a year.

A recent World Bank study (2004),however, reported a paltry overall declinein indigenous poverty over that period(14 per cent), and marshalled data toshow that Mayas had “fallen behind”ladinos both in absolute poverty and inthe rate of poverty reduction. In 2000,74 per cent of indigenous householdswere poor, and a third of these sufferedfrom extreme poverty. An astounding93 per cent earned income from the“informal sector”, which made themacutely vulnerable to the globaleconomic volatility that followed.

Yet these were the same years whenMaya activists and intellectuals burstonto the political scene, forminghundreds of non-governmentalorganisations, agitating for rights,gaining higher education and makingmodest gains towards politicalempowerment. In the absence of thiseffervescence, the 25 per cent of Mayaswho were counted as “non-poor” in 2000would certainly have been fewer still; yetthis sector also surely benefited muchmore from the cultural-political rightsgained than did the other three-quarters,who were barely scraping by.

Since the early years of the newmillennium, Maya rights organisationshave faced an impasse. Generalisedracism persists and the full range ofcollective rights is far from secured, yetthese overall problems affect the Mayapopulation differently according to theirsocioeconomic status.

The state seems prepared to continueopening spaces for the 25 per cent, aslong as these beneficiaries de-emphasisedemands that would address thedesperate economic conditions of therest. An especially perverse feature of thisFaustian bargain is the assertion that themodest advancement of a few “proves”that racism no longer operates to keepthe majority in their place. Ladinos of left

and right often concur in endorsingthis underlying premise, which makesMaya organisations wary of both sides.With some exceptions, however, theseorganisations find it difficult to bridgethe intracultural divide. This troublingcontradiction sums up the impasse:the newly achieved cultural rightsare salutary, yet they bolster a politicsthat perpetuates anti-Maya racism.

In 1978, many would surely haveobjected to the assertion that racismwas a fundamental cause of indigenouspoverty. But the idea would meet littleresistance today, as long as key verbsremain in the past tense.

The government now acknowledges theracism of decades past and admits thatvestiges persist, but affirms its decliningimportance and offers these veryacknowledgements as evidence of thedecline. Beneath this reasoning liesan understanding of racism as largelyattitudinal: person A believes that personB, by virtue of his or her race, to becongenitally inferior. As those attitudesdecline, racism diminishes. Althoughrecent polls suggest that significantnumbers of ladinos and Euro-Guatemalansstill harbour such attitudes, the downwardtrend is clear.

If this attitude-based understanding ofracial inequality were indeed sufficient,we might join Guatemala’s power-holders in their self-congratulation.

The challenge on the horizon is tounderstand and combat the new racism,which has no flagrant perpetratorsand which generates scandalousconsequences while disavowingthe premises of racial inferiority.To document its workings, we must lookfirst at statistics and structural conditionsrather than at attitudes and ideologies.

Geographer Ruth Gilmore (2002) offersa parsimonious definition: “differentialpropensities for premature death.”In addition to poverty, relevantdata are racially differentiated ratesof life expectancy, disease, education,incarceration and ill-distributedstate expenditures that would affectthese basic life conditions. Whenacknowledged at all, these disparities

are explained as an inherited feature ofthe system, reproduced by indigenouspeoples themselves, whose culture hasleft them ill-equipped to meet thechallenges of economic modernity.

In 1988, a group of intellectuals fromthe Maya organisation CoordinadoraCackchiquel para el Desarollo Indígena(COCADI) addressed the poverty scandaldirectly, and staked out a position called“la via maya del desarrollo” (the Mayaroad to development). They argued thatthe Maya people have their own culturally-specific understanding of “development”,which is in stark contrast to Westerndefinitions, and their own millenarianexperience and wisdom to drawon for its implementation.

According to this view, the mainobstacles to “development” were racism,which denigrates Maya culture, andmaterial inequality, which deprivesMayas of the resources necessaryto put their cultural principles to work.Twenty years later, this article standsas a clarion call on which few haveelaborated. There are two main reasonsfor this reticence.

The first is continuing state repression.In the mid 1980s, when the governmentbegan to seem receptive to culturalrights demands (approving, for example,the Academy of Maya Languages),public discourse on the highly skewednationwide distribution of landedproperty was still taboo. Ten yearslater, the peace accords between thegovernment and the guerrilla codifiedthis contrast, affirming new principlesof indigenous cultural-political rights,but adamantly endorsing the statusquo in the country’s agrarian structure.

The challenge on thehorizon is to understandand combat the newracism, which has noflagrant perpetrators ...to document its workings,we must look first atstatistics andstructural conditions.


The Nivkhi are a Siberian peoplenumbering some 5,000 who live onSakhalin Island off the Russian Pacificcoast, just north of Japan, and along thebanks of the nearby Amur River delta.For centuries they lived and traded inthe cosmopolitan world of East Asia,engaging the Chinese, Japanese, Koreansand Russians who travelled through, andwho sometimes laid claim to their lands.It was not until 1925, however, when theOctober Revolution had travelled farenough east to firmly establish theSoviet government in the furthestreaches of the former Russian empire,that their lives changed sofundamentally and dramatically.

Though few in numbers, the Nivkhi(or Giliaki, in the prerevolutionary

Nivkhi are just one of manyindigenous peoples ofSiberia and the RussianFar East. Yet their experienceis emblematic of what“development” came tomean in the context oftwentieth-century socialism,and how significantly thisdiffered from the variedcontemporary Westernunderstandings.

by Bruce Grant,New York University, United States The Nivkhi under

Soviet Rule

In 1994, when the Maya intellectualDemetrio Cojtí teamed up with theConsejo de Organizaciones Mayas deGuatemala (COMG) to make an audaciousproposal for state recognition of Mayarights to autonomy, dominant sectorsresponded with hostility, which thwartedserious discussion of the issue. If thedocument had gone on to spell out theneed for wealth redistribution in orderfor these political rights to be achieved, itcould well have put Cojtí’s life in danger.

As a slogan guiding top-downinstitutional initiatives, “developmentwith identity” is barely tolerable.As a Maya-initiated demand for controlover half of the country’s resourcesto use as they see fit, the “via maya deDesarrollo” remains paramount to the“subversion” that justified the army’sgenocidal campaign.

The second reason for the reticenceis that many Maya intellectualsaffirm the dichotomy as necessary,if not appropriate. Although it is hard toseparate the draconian influence of state

repression from the intrinsic visionof Maya leaders, two factors meritattention. The Maya movement emergedin response to deep alienation from theauthoritarian tendencies and racism ofthe ladino-controlled Left, both guerrillaand civilian.

Since wealth redistribution was a mainstayof leftist discourse, it was logical thatMaya activist-intellectuals woulddistance themselves from this demand.Additionally, given that middling Mayabenefit more directly from cultural-political rights, they have an incentive toconcentrate their energies in this realm.

Some prominent Maya organisationsand have attempted to bridge this dividebetween cultural-political rights andeconomic empowerment; and manyMaya individuals and families strive forthis combination in everyday practice.

In general, however, Maya leaders havenot yet drawn on these initiatives tofashion a fully-fledged blueprint for a“via maya de desarrollo”, and broader

political conditions remain hostile to theemergence of such a plan. Memories ofthe genocide of the early 1980s are verymuch alive, and they induce a deeplyingrained ethos of oblique resistanceand cautious pragmatism. To rename thepoverty scandal as the continuation ofgenocide by other means is to break withthat ethos. But to leave this connectionunaddressed runs an equally serious risk.

The risk includes a vibrant Mayamovement, which achieves amplerecognition of cultural-political rightsbut has little ability to help three-quartersof the Maya people. They will inevitablyface continued pressure to assimilateand suffer from an array of endemicsocioeconomic maladies.

World Bank (2004). Poverty in Guatemala.Country Study. Washington, World Bank.

CEH. (1999). Guatemala: memoria delsilencio. Guatemala, Comisión parael Esclarecimiento Histórico.

Gilmore, R. (2002) “Fatal Couplings ofPower and Difference: Notes on Racismand Geography”, Professional Geographer54/1, February, 15-24.

nomenclature) came to occupy asignificant place in the early Sovietimagination. No matter that theywere often bilingual or trilingual,or that many of them had travelledextensively: in early Soviet scholarlyand popular record they appearedas the quintessential primitives ofpre-communist life. Renownednineteenth-century accounts of Nivkhiby Anton Chekhov and FriedrichEngels lamented what the authorsperceived as their degraded state.But it was their particular practice ofwhat Engels called “group marriage”—marking a complex kinship systemthat ensured a good deal of internalproperty transfer—that caused themto be heralded as some of the SovietUnion’s earliest communists.


chum salmon (known in Nivkh as maand in Russian as iukola) in order tosupport their families. There has beena substantial resurgence in sea mammalhunting and the use of derivativeproducts such as seal fat, in particular.On a smaller scale, many Nivkhi haveestablished small family fishingenterprises on ancestral clan grounds.

In the immediate post-Soviet period, thecollapse of industries and social services,coupled to stunning rises in corruptionat all levels, contributed to theimpoverishment of once relatively stablecommunities. In an atmosphere wheresalaries were frequently not dispensedfor months at a time, most people werecast into a cycle of moneyless exchangeand barter to maintain the most modestof subsistence lifestyles. Many Nivkhilook again to their Asian neighboursas possible sponsors for economicdevelopment, but for now their fateremains tied to that of the Russianstate that has overseen them for so long.

When I last visited Sakhalin Island a fewyears after the Soviet Union’s collapse,a Nivkh journalist of modest meanscame to see me. Sakhalin Island wason the verge of massive oil investmentfrom an array of international oilconsortia, an initiative that has sincebecome one of the world’s biggest oil andgas projects. “These people from Exxonkeep calling us. They are quite insistentabout holding public meetings,” she said.“What do they want from us?” she asked.She had lived her life outside a politicalsystem in which economic developmentpresumed the imagined consent of localpopulations. Since then, she has becomeaccustomed to a very different formof public relations, one that viewsindigenous peoples as an ornament onthe edifice of new capital investmentsrather than as symbols of a socialsystem promising equity for all.

Grant, B. (1993) “Siberia Hot and Cold:Reconstructing the Image of SiberianIndigenous Peoples”, in: G. Diment andY. Slezkine (eds) Between Heaven and Hell:The Myth of Siberia in Russian Culture.New York, St. Martin’s Press.

Grant, B. (1995) In the Soviet Houseof Culture: A Century of Perestroikas.Princeton, Princeton University Press.

Whereas prerevolutionary RussianOrthodox missionaries had houndedNivkhi for their pagan ways, the newLeninist reformers praised theirforbearance and cultivated a syncretismbetween new Soviet political organs andnative autonomy. Many Nivkhi look backon the late 1920s as a golden period: theState founded hospitals, schools, culturalcentres and small enterprises in the mostremote areas, and sought out the mostpromising young men and womenfor education in Vladivostok, Moscowand Leningrad.

As early as 1930, however, these fledglingfreedoms faded. The Nivkhi were notexempt from the Stalinist juggernaut:in 1937 alone, the state “liquidated”one third of all Nivkh men in a singledistrict, according to one source (personalcommunication) in the state securityagency, the NKVD (KGB). World War II sawthe widespread integration of Nivkh menand women into the workforce, and therelative prosperity of the decades thatfollowed were marred only by the slowdecline of the Soviet economy underBrezhnev in the 1970s.

Indeed, until the end of the Sovietperiod, Nivkhi remained a fixture of suchevolutionist discourse. Interviewed onSoviet television in July 1990, one Russianofficial looked back on the history of theSoviet Union and said: “You have tounderstand the difficulties posed by acountry as diverse as ours. In 1917, Nivkhiwere living in caves and Russians were inpalaces.” Nivkhi, in fact, never lived thelives of prosaic penury or purity thatgenerations of scribes assigned to them,but their image as the most famousprimitives who gave up cave life forcommunism is one that they encounterto this day.

The Nivkhi are just one of many indigenouspeoples of Siberia and the Russian FarEast. Yet their experience is emblematic ofwhat “development” came to mean in thecontext of twentieth-century socialism,and how significantly this differed fromthe varied contemporary Westernunderstandings. Early Soviet officialsinsisted that in one generation, Nivkhiwould “stride across a thousand years”.This meant that they would repeat theevolutionary journey along the famously

imagined Marxist trajectory oncetravelled by Western Europeans overan entire millennium—beginning withprimitive modes of production andending with the wage-based agro-industrial projects and low-gradeBauhaus housing projects of Sovietrealism. In this ideology the Nivkhi,like other indigenous peoples of thecommunist state, were the jewels inthe crown of the Soviet modernizationproject, since their transformationswere seen as the most dramatic.

In reality, indigenous peoples of theSoviet Union encountered many problemsof the kind faced by all Soviet citizens,such as chronic food and housingshortages, and remarkably advancedforms of government corruption. Thepromise of their transformation, however,never lost its lustre.

As one scholar has pointed out about theSiberian Evenki people’s experiences withthe Soviet state, nearly every Sovietexpedition to Evenk lands, even throughto the 1950s, was described as “the first”of its kind: the “first” to recapture thedream of bringing mature economicdevelopment to willing Siberianchildren of nature. In this light, wefind Siberian indigenous peoples notat the conventional “periphery” of thejuggernaut of Soviet state designs,but at the vortex of an almost “vanishingcentre” of Soviet state power. If theperfect transformation of indigenous lifewas never fully delivered, it could stillinspire hope through its promise.

Fishing dominated Nivkh life beyondwell up until the arrival of the Soviets,and even to the close of the Sovietperiod it continued to play a major role.While Nivkhi once crafted their nets fromnettle fibres, most now participate in thelarger mechanized fishing collectives(kolkhozes) that survived into the post-Soviet age. Soviet cultural planners tookpains to diminish traditional Nivkhfishing practices as backward, but theirony of the disarray of the post-Sovietperiod has been that many suchtraditions are now being revived forwant of alternatives.

Greater numbers of younger Nivkhi havetaken to drying winter supplies of pink and


Political philosophers anddevelopment planners owe a specialdebt to indigenous Siberians. The highlymobile and egalitarian social structuresof Evenki-Tungus and Ket-Samoeds havebeen cited prominently by both Marxistand Liberal thinkers when they haveencouraged us to imagine what a“developed” society should look like.If decentralised indigenous politicalnetworks served as the model forconstitutional democracies in NorthAmerica and Western Europe, in Russiaboth before and after the Revolutionthe “propertyless” societies of Siberianpeoples served as a model for a so-called“non-capitalist path of development”.

In its crudest form, the “non-capitalistpath” assumed that the egalitarian socialrelationships present among manyhunters and small-scale reindeer herderscould simply be made more comfortablewith the addition of electricity and thebuilding of a local library. Under thismodel, several generations of indigenouscadres in the former Soviet Unionrepresented their peoples at specialparty conferences and oversaw theconstruction of new settlements andeducational opportunities for their kin.

As many still remember, the heavilycentralised and industrialised model forindigenous participation in the formerSoviet Union did not create happycommunities. Overly formal rules ofrecruitment into complex bureaucraticstructures often created a paternalistsystem in which outsiders with theproper paper qualifications were paidto design development for their lessqualified wards.

The architecture of Russian peasantvillages built into the design of new statefarms was often ecologically unstable,creating large zones in the taiga and

tundra that were devoid of firewoodfor heat and animals for subsistence.

By the start of perestroika it had becomeclear that centrally planned developmentfor indigenous people was not the sameas development in an indigenous idiom.

The very first public associations, whichwere later to grow into the federatednon-governmental organisation (NGO)known in English as the RussianAssociation of Indigenous Peoples ofthe North, Siberia and Far East (RAIPON),gathered under the banner of “culture”.

They hoped to draw attention to localways of building communities, whichoften involved decentralised or nomadicversions of centralised schooling,or new institutional contexts in whichindigenous language use would bevalued. At the time, nobody expectedthat the relaxing of state control overlocal activities would be accompaniedby state indifference to the fate ofindigenous peoples.

Today, the period of perestroika isremembered as the time when centralsubsidies to state farms were eliminated,when electricity and food were rationed,and when all forms of public transportceased to exist.

The recent rise in oil prices worldwide,and the increasing wealth of the Russianfederal treasury, has given new life tothe issue of indigenised development inSiberia. The neoliberal capitalist state nolonger wishes to dictate a certain culturalform for development. But neither doesit want to draw attention to the vastdisparities of wealth between indigenouscommunities, on the one hand, and onthe other the shining resource outpostsoften built from the proceeds taken fromthe non-renewable resources lying under

In its crudest form, the“non-capitalist path”assumed that the egalitariansocial relationships presentamong many hunters andsmall-scale reindeer herderscould simply be mademore comfortable with theaddition of electricity andthe building of a local library.

The map of Northern Russiais divided up by certain“oligarchic” companiescreated by the privatisationof Soviet state assets.These privatised mini-statesbegin their portfolioswith mining and drillinginfrastructure, and end themwith company-constructedairports, housing complexesand schools.

A Strange Hybrid ofSocialism andCapitalism in Siberia

by David G. Anderson,University of Aberdeen, Scotland


reindeer pastures. Furthermore,international institutions such as theWorld Bank and the Global EnvironmentalFacility have created new “targets” for theparticipation of indigenous people inresource-extraction projects.

As in circumpolar states worldwide,certain revenues from the sale of oiland other resources now return toindigenous communities in the formof direct social welfare payments, andmore often than not in the form ofbuildings and infrastructure erectedby large mineral conglomerates.The question now is whether a neoliberalwelfare state can create a better modelfor local development than the Sovietredistributive state.

At first sight, post-Soviet ruraldevelopment looks like a strange hybridof socialism and capitalism. From oneperspective, the map of Northern Russiais divided up by certain “oligarchic”companies created by the privatisation ofSoviet state assets. These privatised mini-states begin their portfolios with miningand drilling infrastructure, and end themwith company-constructed airports,housing complexes and schools.

It is not uncommon to hearrepresentatives of indigenous rightsorganisations praise the wealthybusinesses that provide direct capitalsubsidies to local communities.

To those with some experience ofaboriginal rights movements in Canadaor the United States, the nesting ofindigenous development into a verticallyintegrated corporation may seem odd.In the context of northern Russian

development, however, it is unsurprising.In a place where vertical chainsof command are seen as the mostefficient way of organising social life,it is to be expected that social needsare still placed on the balance booksof regional corporations.

Moreover, in a place where consumercapitalism is still poorly developed,most miners and oil workers find itmore convenient to have friends withan easy supply of fresh meat andprestigious furs than to have to rely onthe services available in shops.

It is often forgotten that the RussianNorth, unlike North America, is heavilypopulated and has a large local “market”for locally produced goods. To somedegree, market liberalism has served as abetter short-term support for indigenouspeoples there than it has in other partsof the world.

On the other hand, unbridled resourcedevelopment has raised the stakes ofenvironmental entitlements. Pipelines,which bring oil to markets in Chinaand Western Europe, have carved uplandscapes to such an extent thatsubsistence hunting and herding areno longer possible.

Recent warming trends have openedthe prospect of an extended seasonof northern shipping through theNorthern Sea Route, without havingto rely on nuclear powered icebreakers.This access to markets through the PolarSea would only increase the impact onlocal environments.

The language of indigenous rights hasalso been streamlined with the recentmerging of local political districts thatwere created originally as specialterritorial districts for Evenki, Buriator Nenets development. Instead,social entitlements are no longerseen as territorial and can be moreeasily compensated with one-offpayments of cash or in kind.

After 10 years of oil-fuelled corporatedevelopment, it is an open questionas to how one can best express a senseof entitlement to a way of life. Russia’sbrief experience of global capitalism

has shown that the most efficientway of nurturing a sense of respectfor local indigenous cultures is to copythe environmental and indigenisingprotocols of multinational corporationsworldwide. To that end, it sometimesseems that the struggle lies with publicopinion in Europe or the Americas.

Do consumers know that 90 per centof the heavy metals used in theconstruction of catalytic convertors inmodern automobiles come from openpit mines in the traditional lands of theDolgan, Evenki and Enets peoples?

Do Europeans know the environmentaland social cost of the oil that flowsto them through Eastern Europeanpipelines? Would the European Unionliberalise restrictions on the trade inanimal furs so as to better the livesof indigenous people at the cost ofalienating urban-based animalrights activists?

Russian models of indigenousdevelopment have always involvedhybrid models of state and society thatmix entitlements with the supply ofgoods and services. In a debate whereindigenised development is oftenexpressed as type of autochthony,these complex models offer aninteresting avenue for debate.

Anderson, David G. (2000) Identity andEcology in Arctic Siberia: The NumberOne Reindeer Brigade. Oxford,Oxford University Press.

Miners and oilworkers find itmore convenientto have friends withan easy supply of freshmeat and prestigiousfurs than to haveto rely on the servicesavailable in shops.

Do Europeans knowthe environmental andsocial cost of the oil thatflows to them throughEastern Europeanpipelines?

Would the EuropeanUnion liberaliserestrictions on the tradein animal furs so as tobetter the lives ofindigenous people?


To understand both the benefitsand problems that Arctic “development”has brought to the Inuit, who nowmanage their territories, we need tounderstand the historical setting and itsdifferent stages. We would see howWestern colonisers initiated developmentfirst for military reasons (from 1941) andthen for strategic, economic and socialreasons (from 1950), without any realconsultation of the local Inuit. Finally,there were ethnic reasons (from 1970),when Inuit leaders understood theycould benefit from the new politicalaffirmation of aboriginal peoples. Indoing so, however, they unwittinglypicked up neocolonial values that camewith the idea of development, to thedetriment of spiritual values that hadsupported their culture.

With the onset of the Second World War,the Arctic became strategically important.In 1941, the Germans occupied Denmarkand Norway, and then sought to establishsubmarine bases in Danish-controlledGreenland to disrupt Allied shipping. TheAmericans decided to take over Greenlandand establish military bases there. Theyreached an agreement with Canada tobuild and operate air bases in theCanadian Arctic. In 1942, the Japanesetook the Alaskan islands of Attu and Kiska,which the Americans took back a yearlater. Several other air bases were built bythe Americans, as well as a land route,with Canadian help, linking Alaska to therest of the continent. Thus began thedevelopment of Arctic North America.

The North was again militarised in the1950s because of the Cold War betweenthe Eastern and Western blocs. As astrategic military zone, it attractedrenewed scientific, economic and socialinterest. To protect against attack fromthe north, the United States and Canadaset up radar lines, including the DistantEarly Warning (DEW) line stretchingacross the High Arctic from Alaska to

by Bernard Saladin d’Anglure,University of Laval, Canada

and Françoise Morin,University of Lyon 2, France

The Inuit:Assimilation and CulturalImpoverishment

What no one has realised inCanada or elsewhere is thatthe new Inuit leaders havesubtly adopted the heritageof the colonial period in theway the Western world seesmoral, economic, social andpolitical progress.

At white schools, eventhose that are Inuit-run, thestudents’ minds are beingalienated by educationalprogrammes that have beendesigned mainly in the South,with a minimum of emphasison Inuit cultural traditions.

Although the Inuit havereached a standard of livingthat is the envy of most otheraboriginal peoples, theirfragile lifestyle has made themeasy prey for drug traffickerswho have recently invadedtheir territory, or for Christianfundamentalists who wish toevangelise the Arctic.

Greenland, where an agreement withDenmark allowed the United States toreopen its bases and establish new ones(in Thule, for example).

The Cold War also sparked verbalconfrontations, such as the Soviet Union’svirulent criticism of Canada for neglectingthe “human development” of the Inuit.Canada was taken aback and decidedto create the Department of NorthernDevelopment (1953). The goal washuman development in the North,to be measured by three indicators:longevity, education and standardof living. The so-called “developed”countries provided a benchmarkfor the degree of underdevelopment,poverty and illiteracy.

Families were encouraged to move tovillages of prefabricated homes withcommunity services (school, nursingstation, place of worship, store). Financialassistance was offered to needy families.Jobs were created and stores importedconsumer goods from the south.Meanwhile, mineral explorationdeveloped. This period saw two keyevents: the colony of Greenland becamean integral part of Denmark (1953) andthe Territory of Alaska—where non-natives were now the majority—becamethe 49th US state (1959). Discovery of newresources was not unrelated to thesechanges, which made it easier toexpropriate Inuit land.

The Inuit of Greenland and Alaskarealised the dangers of normalisationbased on the Western model and madeclaims based on ethnic criteria andaboriginal rights. In 1967, eight Alaskanaboriginal associations joined forces tolobby the US government for ownershipof their ancestral lands. The Alaska NativeClaims Settlement Act (ANCSA) of 1971offered them 16 million hectares andnearly a billion dollars to compensate forextinction of their land rights. It was the


due to drug abuse, a high cost of livingand lack of communication between thegenerations. The schools have promotedindividualism and thus have broken theold networks of solidarity and sharing.Although the Inuit have reached astandard of living that is the envy ofmost other aboriginal peoples, theirfragile lifestyle has made them easy preyfor drug traffickers who have recentlyinvaded their territory, or for Christianfundamentalists who wish to evangelisethe Arctic.

But the Inuit have another option. Theycan show resilience and rediscover theirculture and their elders. Some have chosenthis way out. In 1994, when Inuit studentsat Arctic College (Iqaluit) attended ananthropological conference, they realisedhow much of their culture had beenlost through development. They askedfor a course on Inuit cosmology andshamanism, to be taught by elders andan anthropologist. The course was nottaught until 1998 and was not publishedin the Inuit language until 2001.

Artwork is another way to rediscoverInuit culture. There are now many artisticprojects and cultural activities, whichare locally popular in Nunavut andelsewhere. There is the teaching museumof Sanikiluaq, which has given new lifeto Inuit personal names. There is Isumain Igloolik: with elders, it has producedand directed films like the internationallyrenowned Atanarjuat and, with women,Before Tomorrow.

Among young people, there is thetalented circus troupe Artcirq, whichhas been warmly applauded whereverit has performed. This is probably howthe Inuit will find their own style of“development”—by better appreciatingtheir non-material heritage. Indeed, thisis an area in which the Western world stillhas much to learn from them.

Morin, F. and B. Saladin d’Anglure. (1995).“L’éthnicité, un outil politique pour lesautochtones de l’Arctique et de l’Amazonie”,Études/Inuit/Studies 19:1, 37-68.

Saladin d’Anglure, B. (2006) Être et renaîtreInuit, homme, femme ou chamane.Gallimard, Paris.

Saladin d’Anglure, B. and F. Morin. (1992).“The Inuit people, between particularismand internationalism: An overview of theirrights and powers in 1992”, Études/Inuit/Studies 16:1/2, 13-9.

first in a series of agreements that settledland rights in Inuit territories where theoil and gas boom had caused muchupheaval since 1968.

This agreement was influential amongsome Canadian Inuit when in 1971 ahydroelectric mega-project wasannounced for northern Quebec.The project was contested in the courtsby the Inuit and Cree Indians of northernQuebec, and they won their case. Assistedby non-governmental organisations(NGOs) and lawyers, they then negotiatedwith the government to cede theirland rights in exchange for financialcompensation and regional administrativeself-government, including control of“human development”.

The signing of the James Bay Agreement(1976–1977) brought major administrative,legal and political change to the region.It was also a better deal than the ANCSA,offering control over education, healthcare, culture and aboriginal languages.Already, going to school and learningthe coloniser’s language had becomemandatory everywhere, and themarket economy had spread throughoutthe Arctic.

The Inuit elders of Nunavik (ArcticQuebec) were impressed by theirnegotiators’ promises and believed thattheir children would have better jobopportunities and a higher standard ofliving. But they are still waiting for therest of Canada to agree to the teachingof Inuktitut (the Inuit language) as thefirst language. In 1999, part of Canada’sformer Northwest Territories, where theInuit were the majority, became theTerritory of Nunavut with territorialself-government.

In 2004, regional government wasalso established for Nunatsiavut(the northernmost part of the Province ofNewfoundland and Labrador). Meanwhile,Greenland’s Inuit leaders, who had beenlargely educated in Denmark, in the1970s began to demand more power.In 1979, the Danish parliament gaveGreenland home rule, which similarlyincluded the human developmentof the population. Over the years, newagreements have recognised more rightsfor the Inuit. A recent referendum (2008)confirmed their unhindered control ofnatural resources, their right to political

self-determination and the primacyof the Inuit language for Greenlanders.

What no one has realised in Canada orelsewhere is that the new Inuit leadershave subtly adopted the heritage of thecolonial period in the way the Westernworld sees moral, economic, social andpolitical progress. Such progress hasgone hand in hand with an alienationof souls, minds and bodies. When Inuitleaders came to power, their people hadbeen completely Christianised for at leasta generation in Nunavut, and for longerelsewhere. Gone is the traditionalcosmology of animism and shamanismthat was key to social bonding, as wellas to relations with the environment andthe invisible spirit world. De facto, it hasbeen devalued and even demonised,its memory kept alive only by a fewartists. Today, Inuit villages allow onlythe invisible spirit world of Christianity.

Also disappearing is the system ofpersonal names that was associated withanimism and that united generationsand families to each other. It has givenway to Christian first names and to newfamily names, previously nonexistent,that have been progressively imposedsince 1970 by the administration at theurging of an Inuit leader who wished tomake his people like other Canadians.

Gone forever is the soul-name ofindividuals and its traditionalcomponents. At white schools, eventhose that are Inuit-run, the students’minds are being alienated by educationalprogrammes that have been designedmainly in the South, with a minimumof emphasis on Inuit cultural traditions.All that remains is their Inuit bodies,which are suffering from sedentaryliving, imported food and excessiveconsumption of sugar, alcohol and drugs.Obesity and diabetes have risen todisturbing levels.

Infant mortality has fallen to the samelevel as elsewhere in Canada (unlike the1950s, when one in two children diedin their first year of life) and the Inuitpopulation is growing fast, but the rateof youth suicide, which was virtuallyabsent before the 1970s, is now eleventimes higher than in southern Canada.

The quality of life has also declined forthe elderly because of family violence


In most countries whereindigenous people comprise a largeshare of the population, there is oftena lack of disaggregated data in censusesand administrative records to revealhow native people live. The problemis not only the absence of information,but that the very lack of data relegatesindigenous people to a state of“invisibility”. The most criticalcommentators have termed thisphenomenon “statistical ethnocide”.*

Despite the recommendations andproposals on which there has beenconsensus in many meetings of experts(many of whom are senior officials ofnational statistical institutes), nationalpopulation censuses, which are the basicdemographic tool in devising populationpolicies, are still marked by incompleteinformation on indigenous peoples.These gaps almost always stem fromthe use of restrictive categories.

The most frequent case in Latin Americais the assumption that individuals areindigenous if they know and use anative language. In other words, it isinferred that if interviewees speak someindigenous language they are indigenous;if they lack such knowledge, they areincluded under the generic headingof “Mexican”, “Chilean” and so on.The problem of indicators, particularlythose concerning the development andwell-being of indigenous people, isclosely related to this practice in censuses.

In recent years, the United NationsPermanent Forum on Indigenous Issueshas been a venue where leaders,intellectuals and representatives ofindigenous organisations have linkedthe current situation and the prospectsfor development and well-being to theproblem of information gaps. Above all,they have identified the need for reliable,

up-to-date and—to use a termmentioned recurrently at the Forum—”culturally adequate” indicators.

An analysis of the documents producedin meetings, forums and workshopsabout indicators, attended byindigenous and non-indigenousexperts, reveals that the demandrefers not only to the task of definingmethodological instruments butalso to a set of factors that should beidentified and distinguished.

What is being demanded, implicitly orexplicitly, can be summarised as follows.

Indicators (of well-being,development, environment andculture) must identify indigenouspopulations and must objectivelystate their situation in a systematicand regular way.

Indicators should be not onlyan instrument of registrationbut also a fundamental toolfor evaluating and protectingcommunities, as well as theirterritorial and cultural resources.

Indicators of and for indigenouspeoples, as well as their results,must be essential inputs forpublic policymaking, governmentprogrammes and actions, the designof projects that involve internationalcooperation, and other activitiesrelated to indigenous developmentand well-being.

Indicators must provide informationon circumstances and issues thatare important to indigenous peopleand that are not always consideredin national information systems, suchas identity, spirituality, traditionalknowledge, indigenous forms ofsocial organisation, collectiverights and, chiefly, intangible assets.

Monitoring theDevelopment ofIndigenous People

by Carolina Sánchez,José del Val and Carlos Zolla,

National AutonomousUniversity of Mexico, Mexico

* This expression was used for over two decadesby important Mexican researchers such as Luz MariaValdés, Gustavo Cabrera and Rodolfo Stavenhagen(former Special Rapporteur for the United Nationson Human Rights and Fundamental Liberties forIndigenous People). On this matter, see Valdés (1986).

The problem is not onlythe absence of information,but that the very lack of datarelegates indigenous peopleto a state of “invisibility”.

National populationcensuses, which are thebasic demographic toolin devising populationpolicies, are still markedby incomplete informationon indigenous peoples.

The most frequent casein Latin America is theassumption that individualsare indigenous if they knowand use a native language.

If they lack such knowledge,they are included under thegeneric heading of “Mexican”,“Chilean” and so on.


Indicators must be conceivedof as part of a strategy to positionindigenous peoples as stakeholdersin forums for negotiation, as well asto heighten the visibility of indigenouspeoples, communities and individuals.

Participation and consultation arecrucial to building and applyingindicators. Indigenous peoplesmust fully and effectivelyparticipate in the whole processat the grassroots level.

Along with the measurement oftraditional knowledge, indigenouspeople must be empowered to keepit, develop it and promote it.

Countries and organisations mustdevelop systems of information onindigenous peoples with data fromcensuses, surveys, registries, statisticalstudies or other conventionalinstruments. They should alsoproduce special reports on mattersof interest to indigenous peoplesand communities.

Governments, the United Nations,universities and cooperationorganisations should develop trainingprogrammes to build capacity amongindigenous people on the use of theinformation systems, with specialattention to the interpretationand application of conventionalor specific indicators.

Schemes of indicators that areof the interest to indigenous peopleshould be used systematically inconsultations or any strategies,such as those of prior, free andinformed consent.

Special importance may be given tomultidimensional indicators or similarinstruments in order to take intoaccount the entirety of the processesin which indigenous peoples andcommunities are involved, thusavoiding unilateral, biased andpartial approaches.

Member governments of the UnitedNations that take part in initiativesof global or regional scope (such asthe Millennium Development Goals,MDGs) should identify indigenouspopulations in their informationon goals and indicators.

Appropriate indicators (conventionalones with ethnic disaggregation or

new, “culturally adequate” indicators)should be designed and used, withparticular attention to the mainelements of the mandate of theUnited Nations Permanent Forumon Indigenous Issues: economicand social development, theenvironment, health, education,culture and human rights.

The research conducted by theMexico Multicultural Nation UniversityProgramme (Programa UniversitarioMéxico Nación Multicultural, PUMC),using national and internationaldocumentation on the subject,convinced us of the need to worksimultaneously on two complementaryplans with a view to developinginformation systems that are suitedto the needs and desires ofindigenous peoples.

One plan concerns the informationsystem itself, and in this regard we

developed the Information Systemon the Indigenous Peoples of theAmericas (SIPIA).

The other plan consists of advancingproposals to make widely available fivegroups of indicators that we consideradequate in providing an account ofthe status and prospects of indigenousdevelopment and well-being.

The first group comprises conventionalindicators with ethnic disaggregation—for instance, demographics, health,work and employment, education,land ownership, production,gender and so on.

The second group consists of the 48indicators proposed to monitor progresstowards the MDGs that are not usuallydisaggregated by ethnicity.

In the third group are those indicatorsthat are both culturally adequate and

Indigenous Peoples and the Millennium Development Goals

A major concern regarding the MDG and indigenous peoples is that the goals and theirrelated indicators do not reflect the specific needs and concerns of indigenous peoplesand do not allow for specific monitoring of progress concerning indigenous peoples.

Even from a strictly economic viewpoint, the MDG targets and indicators are inadequatefor a number of indigenous peoples as they give prominence to monetary income overthe informal, subsistence economies that are so important for the fulfilment of manyof the basic needs of indigenous peoples.

As presently defined, the MDG do not take into account alternative ways of life andtheir importance to indigenous peoples, not only in the economic sense, but alsoas the underpinnings for social solidarity and cultural identity. The MDG carry the risk ofguiding development action towards an increasing involvement of indigenous peoplesin wage labour and market economies where there is no use for their sophisticatedtraditional knowledge and governance systems.

Considering the importance of having reliable disaggregated data about indigenouspeoples, it has been identified as a methodological priority by the Forum, which hasadopted a number of recommendations at its annual sessions.

The workshop also noted that an increasing number of countries, internationalagencies and academic institutions collect disaggregated data and there are anumber of ongoing and planned initiatives to further data collection and theestablishment of indicators.

At the international level efforts are made by, inter alia, ECLAC, UNESCO, UNIFEM, IFAD,the secretariat of the UNPFII and the United Nations Statistics Division. At the nationallevel, research initiatives are undertaken by a variety of academic institutions.

Report of the International Expert Group Meeting on the MDG, Indigenous Participationand Good Governance, presented at the Fifth session of the Permanent Forum onIndigenous Issues, May 2006, United Nations, Economic and Social Council(E/C.19/2006/7), Paragraphs 30-31.


general, meaning that they applyto many indigenous peoples.

The fourth group comprises non-generalisable indicators that providean account of particular situationsregarding the well-being anddevelopment of specific indigenouspeople or communities.

The fifth group consists ofmultidimensional indicators, such asthose devised by authors like EnriqueLeff (1995) or Giuseppe Munda (2008).

A PUMC research experiment soughtto develop an information system asdescribed above, in order to monitorthe welfare and the economic and socialdevelopment of the indigenous peopleof Guerrero.

PUMC’s mandate is to promote and guidediscussions on the multiculturalism ofMexico, which has a large and variedindigenous population, Afro-descendants,and a wide range of ethnic groups thatsettled in the country (Lebanese, Jewish,Spanish, Italian, German, French, NorthAmerican, Central American, SouthAmerican, Japanese, Chinese and so on),as well as the people of mixed race thatcomprise the majority of the population.

To meet its goals, PUMC carries outresearch that links the intellectual,methodological and technical effortsof experts in indigenous issues and ofindividuals working directly in thecommunities. It shares the knowledgeproduced and the experiences gainedwith academia and society at large.

In this context, PUMC developed aproject entitled Estado del DesarrolloEconómico y Social de los Pueblos Indígenasde Mexico, Estudios Estatales, with aview to meeting the demand forqualitative, quantitative, systemisedand organised information on the manyindigenous peoples spread throughoutMexico’s states.

In particular, the project seeks to producestudies containing in-depth analysis of

current conditions among this part of thepopulation, covering its economic, social,political and cultural reproduction anddevelopment. The goal is to adopt aforward-looking perspective in order tosupport the design of public policies andsocial assistance programmes.

The project springs from two previousinitiatives, the first carried out incoordination with the United NationsDevelopment Programme (UNDP),which in 2000 sponsored the FirstReport on the Development Levelof the Indigenous Peoples of Mexico.

The report brought together theexperiences of about 80 researchersworking on indigenous issues in Mexico.

The second initiative was the inter-institutional cooperation policyestablished for the production ofinformation and the promotionof indigenous development.

This made it possible to define a modelfor collaboration on the analysis of nine

An experiencein Guerrero, Mexico

fundamental issues related to the currentsituation of indigenous people at thenational level, involving the preparationof indicators on the report’s mainthematic pillars, systematised and arrangedspecifically for the indigenous population.

These initiatives conceived of the projectas a tool geared to identifying, gathering,producing, systemising and promotinggeneral and specialised information onthe current circumstances of Mexico’sindigenous peoples.

The project also endeavoured to suggestnew approaches to the discussionof some subjects, to introduce issues thatwere new or to which little attention hadbeen paid, and to systematise qualitativeand quantitative data in such a way asto allow specific indicators to bebuilt in the future.

On the basis of these experiences,in 2006 PUMC initiated a project toassess and monitor the developmentof the indigenous peoples of Guerrero.Known by its Spanish abbreviation


The new project, besidesfocusing on a single state,was innovative in creatingan information system onthe indigenous populationof Guerrero.

The system includes areport, a disseminationdocument, both availablein print and electronically,a specialised database,the results of a forumin which the mainproblems of theindigenous people ofGuerrero were discussed,participatory communityassessments, and capacitybuilding coursesand workshops to fosterownership of theinformation producedby the state’s fourindigenous groups.

EDESPIG, this project was conducted incoordination with the local government’sIndigenous Affairs Department.

The model of collaboration used inprevious experiences was established forresearch, emphasising the importance oftransferring information to organisationsthat can develop programmes inindigenous regions and communities.

The new project, besides focusing on asingle state, was innovative in creatingan information system on the indigenouspopulation of Guerrero.

The system includes a report, adissemination document, both availablein print and electronically, a specialiseddatabase, the results of a forum inwhich the main problems of theindigenous people of Guerrero werediscussed, participatory communityassessments, and capacity buildingcourses and workshops to fosterownership of the information producedby the state’s four indigenous groups.

For the research, data systematisationand information transfer, the EDESPIGproject rested on thirteen thematicpillars: multiculturalism, demography,linguistic diversity, economy and socialreproduction, natural resources andsustainable development, agrarian issues,health, education, migration, socialconflicts, normative systems and justice,women and identity, and world vision.

We invite readers to familiarise themselveswith the results of this project, whichcan be found on our website: <http://www.nacionmulticultural.unam.mx/>.

The development of the projectconfirmed the importance of linkinginstitutional efforts to those of theorganisations working on indigenousissues, as well as to those of researchersin this field, so as to provide useful andup-to-date information.

This information should reachdevelopment practitioners in the localand national governments, internationalcooperation agencies and non-governmental organisations, to be usedas inputs in the making of policiesgeared to the development of

indigenous peoples. It should alsoreach other sectors of society.

Another notable aspect of the EDESPIGproject is that it encourages theparticipation of indigenous peoplesthroughout the process, includingtheir proposals and their opinionsabout the problems they face and theirown paths to development.

PUMC now aims to extend the workto other Mexican states where aninterest has been expressed—either bygovernment agencies or by internationalcooperation organisations—in theimplementation of a similar project,one that can provide them withupdated and reliable information andcan strengthen their work programmes.

In the medium term, plans are underwayto implement the project in the statesof Sonora, Chiapas, Michoacan andOaxaca. It will be linked to the Networkof Macro-universities of Latin Americaand the Caribbean, which UNAM(Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México),through PUMC, is using to promotethe project “Social Processes andIntercultural Relations in Latin Americaand the Caribbean”, with a view toproducing a report on the indigenouspeoples of the region.

To achieve these goals, and becauseof the scale of the project, it becamenecessary to extend it beyond theuniversity sphere. This will give it aclearer definition and strengthen itsimplementation by including theparticipation of other institutions, giventhe importance of indigenous issues forthe current work programmes of manynational and international organisations.

Efforts at linkage will prevent duplicationand help create an enabling environmentfor the development of the indigenouspeople of Mexico.

Leff, E. (1995). Green Production:Toward an Environmental Rationality.New York, Guilford Press.

Munda, G. (2008). Social Multi-CriteriaEvaluation for a Sustainable Economy.New York, Springer-Verlag.

Valdés L. M. (1986). ¿Existe demografíaétnica? Mexico, UNAM.

May

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International

Centre for Inclusive Growth

International Policy Centre for Inclusive Growth (IPC - IG)Poverty Practice, Bureau for Development Policy, UNDP

Esplanada dos Ministérios, Bloco O, 7º andar70052-900 Brasilia, DF - Brazil

Telephone: +55 61 2105 5000

E-mail: [email protected] URL: www.ipc-undp.org

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