WHEN Chief Ulu Taufa鈥檃sisina from the Western Samoan island of Savaii
criticises someone, he does so in biblical style. 鈥淵ou have struggled in crooked
tricks and ways that are filled with satanic opinions to corrupt the
righteousness from God,鈥� he says. 鈥淓ven with my poverty I do not want money that
comes through filthy paths. The truth is that my trust, which I thought was true
compassion, has been betrayed.鈥�
The target of his vitriol is not the logging companies that threaten to fell
the rainforest around his village, though he has attacked them before. Nor is it
foreign governments, Samoan government leaders or rival tribes, with all of whom
he has had his disagreements. It is one of the environmental organisations that
are meant to be on the side of the angels鈥攖he Swedish Society for Nature
Conservation.
The story of how the SSNC鈥檚 promising plan to save the rainforest in Samoa
turned sour will be told next week in a Swedish television documentary,
Snakes in Paradise. But it is not a tale that is confined to this one
Pacific island. All over the globe, Western conservationists trying to cooperate
with people in developing countries have run into similar opposition.
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According to scientists experienced in working with indigenous peoples, it is
not the locals who are to blame. The problem is the cultural arrogance of the
incoming 鈥渆xperts鈥�, who presume that their attempts to manage local ecosystems
for the benefit of wildlife and scientific research are in everyone鈥檚 best
interests.
Eco-colonialism
Paul Cox, an ethnological botanist from Brigham Young University in Utah,
says that in Asia, Africa and South America, Western environmental
groups鈥攁nd the scientists who advise them鈥攈ave imposed their
solutions on indigenous peoples, often with disastrous results. He is not
suggesting that any individuals are guilty of 鈥減ersonal perfidy鈥�, rather that
they are part of a disturbing new postimperial phenomenon he calls
鈥渆co-colonialism鈥�. 鈥淲e still have deep within Western culture the embers of
colonialism,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t is so deep that we do not even question it.鈥�
Cox and his colleague Thomas Elmqvist, a plant ecologist from Ume氓 University
in Sweden, had their fingers badly burnt in Western Samoa. Its two main islands,
Savaii and Upolu, contain valuable fragments of tropical rainforest that are
home to numerous unique plants and animals, including the Samoan flying fox. In
the course of botanical research there in the 1980s, Cox and Elmqvist saw that
the village chiefs were having difficulties fending off logging companies.
Like many indigenous people Chief Ulu, a 64-year-old Methodist from the
village of Tafua on the southeast peninsula of Savaii, believes the land on
which his people depend is sacred. 鈥淭he land is our lives,鈥� he told Cox. 鈥淭he
land is also our mother.鈥� That is why he swore to his father on his deathbed to
protect the rainforest with his life. He recalls how a succession of businessmen
visited him over the years asking to log the rainforest. The chief turned them
all down.
Cox and Elmqvist suggested bringing in the SSNC to provide alternative
resources for the 500 inhabitants of Tafua in exchange for protecting the
rainforest from loggers. In 1990, the SSNC and the chiefs of Tafua signed an
agreement which promised $65 000 to build a new school and establish a
5000-hectare rainforest preserve. Crucially, the agreement recognised 鈥渢he
sovereign rights鈥� of Tafua village to control its forest and land.
Initially, the agreement worked well and the school was built. But then Cox
and Elmqvist helped to draw up an application by the SSNC to the Swedish
government鈥檚 foreign aid agency, the Swedish International Development Authority
(SIDA), to build solar power stations, ecotourist centres and forest trails in
Tafua and other villages.
Elmqvist claims that of $550 000 donated by SIDA, no more than
$200 000 found its way to the villages. Most of the rest, he says, was
spent on an environmental group called Si鈥檕si鈥檕maga, Samoan for 鈥渆nvironment鈥�,
which the SSNC set up in 1991 specifically to channel funds from SIDA to the
villages. The new group鈥檚 office in the Western Samoan capital of Apia on Upolu
island was staffed by Westerners and Western-educated Samoans, and well equipped
with computers.
The missing money aside, Si鈥檕si鈥檕maga succeeded in angering the villagers of
Tafua over a number of other issues. For instance, it asked them to abandon a
traditional ceremony鈥攆ounded on drinking kava, a beverage made
from the roots of a local plant鈥攂efore important meetings. The villagers,
who were not consulted about the coordinating role of Si鈥檕si鈥檕maga, became
deeply antagonistic towards its staff.
It was this conflict that led Chief Ulu to denounce the SSNC as 鈥渟atanic鈥� in
1993. In a series of lyrically worded letters to Stockholm, he accused the SSNC
of breaching its agreement with Tafua by the 鈥渋nsertion鈥� of Si鈥檕si鈥檕maga into
their relationship. He refused to accept any more aid from Sweden. 鈥淥ur
friendship is broken,鈥� he wrote.
Ulf von Sydow, president of the SSNC from 1990 to 1995, accepts that it was
his organisation鈥檚 fault that the agreement collapsed. 鈥淚 think it was a big
mistake that we didn鈥檛 listen to the villagers,鈥� he says. In an article in the
latest edition of Ambio, a journal published by the Royal Swedish
Academy of Sciences, Cox and Elmqvist warn that the growing tendency of
governments to rely on nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) to administer aid
and protect the environment may be flawed.
Elmqvist thinks that scientists who work with NGOs can also be part of the
problem because many of them believe that nature is best without people.
鈥溈烀ǘ淌悠祍, including myself, have to be aware that our own conservation agenda
is built on Western cultural beliefs,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e have to realise that these
are not universal and may sometimes be counterproductive.鈥�
One scientist who argues that indigenous people should be relocated in order
to protect animals is John Robinson, who oversees 250 projects in 52 countries
for the Wildlife Conservation Society in New York. He thinks it is a 鈥渄esirable
goal鈥� to move up to 6000 people from the Nagarhole National Park in southern
India in order to preserve 40 Asian tigers. Robinson stresses, however, that
people should be encouraged, not forced, to leave.
People living in Nagarhole illegally hunt deer and other ungulates, he says,
thereby depriving tigers of their prey. In earlier times, when local tribes were
able to move around much larger areas, such hunting may have been
environmentally sustainable. But Robinson claims that now there is simply not
enough room for human and feline hunters to coexist. Many local people commute
out of the park to work on tea plantations rather than hunt for a living.
Robinson argues that the views of those supporting indigenous people are
鈥渢otally unrealistic鈥�. Such advocates harbour the romantic notion of the noble
savage, and seek to deny indigenous peoples their social and economic
aspirations, he contends. 鈥淭hey are basically dooming these people to
sustainable poverty. I find that ethically reprehensible, to be honest.鈥�
The Indian environmental writer, Ramachandra Guha, takes a different view. He
contends that Robinson and his ilk are trying to import 鈥渁 distinctively North
Atlantic brand of antihuman environmentalism鈥� without exhibiting due humility.
鈥淕reen missionaries such as conservation biologists and their supporters are
possibly more dangerous, and certainly more hypocritical, than their economic or
religious counterparts,鈥� he says.
Gonzalo Oviedo, international coordinator of the World Wide Fund for Nature鈥檚
work with indigenous peoples, agrees that NGOs make mistakes. 鈥淭hey think they
know the answers to the problems and that they should be making the decisions,鈥�
he says. 鈥淭hat happens very frequently, but it is wrong.鈥� Oviedo, who comes from
Ecuador, points out that many NGOs in Latin America oppose legal changes that
would give indigenous peoples more rights in protected areas. 鈥淚 personally
think that in many countries it is impossible and unfair to stop the use of
primary forest for the benefit of local people,鈥� he says.
Lessons learnt
The WWF and the World Conservation Union (IUCN), an alliance of NGOs and
government agencies, both agreed new policies on indigenous peoples last year.
For the first time, the two organisations now explicitly recognise the rights of
indigenous people to control their land. 鈥淚 think this is a major step forward,鈥�
says Oviedo.
Unfortunately, even when conservation organisations do collaborate
successfully with local people they can be defeated by more powerful economic
forces. In 1992, an alliance of WWF and tribal elders in Kenya failed to prevent
a foreign property developer from building a hotel in a sacred forest grove on
Chale Island off the Indian Ocean coast. The hotel upset conservationists and
provoked untold anguish among local people. 鈥淭he spirits of our ancestors have
warned us of calamity should our sacred groves be destroyed,鈥� three leading
elders said.
There are signs, however, that conservationists are learning from their
mistakes. In 1994, von Sydow travelled to Savaii to apologise to the villagers
of Tafua for the way in which they had been mistreated by the SSNC. 鈥淚 told them
I was very sad about all the problems,鈥� he says. As a result, there has been
some reconciliation between the SSNC and Tafua, which has set up its own
environmental organisation.
Von Sydow is not the only person to rue the Samoan debacle. 鈥淚 became a
vehicle for introducing Western culture in toxic doses to these people,鈥� says
Cox, who speaks fluent Samoan and heads a new charity, Seacology, which works in
Samoa. 鈥淚 deeply, deeply regret my action. I assumed other Westerners would
share my awe for these people, but I was wrong.鈥�