This article is part of a series that intends to bring awareness to the environmental and human injustices that are happening today in Venezuela. Part one of the series, on mining impacts on nature and biodiversity, can be found here. We invite you to follow our blog to read the upcoming articles. We believe solidarity and support are key to addressing the current societal and environmental challenges.
Across the Americas and around the world Indigenous people carry a larger proportion of poverty and lower health than non-Indigenous people. In fact, the organization First People Worldwide says that Indigenous Peoples constitute about 5% of the world’s population, yet they account for about 15% of the world’s poor. Similar statistics are also prevalent on violence and health. Despite this oppression, Indigenous and local communities globally defend and protect 80% of the world’s biodiversity. Indigenous communities are leaders in living together with nature.
When we look at Venezuelan Indigenous communities specifically, they do not escape this harsh reality. This group of about 500,000 people face these challenges as well as others that have been accentuated in the 21st century. Diseases like malaria have been on the rise. Increasingly, their territories have become areas where Colombian Guerrillas, illegal miners and Venezuelan military forces openly cooperate to mine, coercing them to destroy their own ancestral lands, resulting in a large migration to neighboring countries, most notably Brazil. And yes, you read it right. The crises that Venezuelan Indigenous communities are facing are so devastating that they have no option but to go to the very same country that is all over main stream media because of the environmental crisis.
Resource: SOS Orinoco Website
Colombian Guerrillas outsourced, and other shady activity
Simon Asatasoma, from the Sanema Indigenous Community of Platanal, Bolivar, speaks about illegal mining in their communities in a Bulletin posted by A. C. Kape Kape. Asatasoma is quoted, “I thought that the mines in our territory were controlled by our brothers Sanema and Yekuana, but little by little I learned that custody was held by the national government, through transit check points. That’s the way I found out that armed groups and unions were operating in the mines, and it was them who controlled the mines in Caura. I was able to confirm that after I entered the Fidiña mines, and one of the guys from the union pointed a gun at my head, telling me that I was recruited by them. When that criminal told me that, I was very scared, and I didn't say anything out of fear. Also, I didn't understand much Spanish. I did not have an option but to work with them. When they settled me in their camps, they told me that I couldn't get out of there”
These guerrillas also operate in the mining areas. According to SOS Orinoco, in its report for the Yapacana National Park, some Colombian guerrilla forces that did not accept the peace agreement in Colombia were able to move to Venezuela during the gold boom, as they were considered “political groups” by the Venezuelan government. Later, these guerrilla forces moved into mining areas to be enforcement on behalf of the Venezuelan armed forces (who manage the logistics for the planes in and out to dispatch gold, and other administrative activities). Eventually these guerrilla forces became owners of some of the mines. Many displaced Indigenous community members share concerns that guerrilla forces control and manage some mines, and that they also arm young Indigenous people in an effort to coerce them to help.
In other cases, Indigenous communities negotiate, as explained by SOS Orinoco in its report Illegal Mining, Guerrillas and Disease ."Currently the Ye’kwana and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC in Spanish) [RB1] [MB2] [3] have established a partnership, after years of pressure from this guerrilla force, without there being any protective response by the Venezuelan State. They were forced to negotiate after being the target of abductions, surveillance, and threats. In exchange for the Ye’kwana’s cooperation, the guerrilla forces offer goods and supplies (fuel, outboard motors, etc.) in a trade that is more or less equitable, but always subject to the delivery of gold and having the guerrilla forces be the ones commercializing it.”
The Pemon people, a local Indigenous community, are now participating in running some of those mines, but have only had to turn to mining due to economic collapse and a downfall of tourism which had previously been their main source of income. As the Pemon people watch the mines around them be run by Garimpeiros (Portuguese word for illegal gold prospectors) and guerrillas, they either they operate some of the mines on their own or the mines will be run by others.
The guerrilla paramilitary presence is also confirmed widely, including by the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs (IWGIA), which reports on its website that “the serious fuel crisis in the region was exacerbated by a diversion of fuel towards mining activity and also because of the presence of various different unlawful armed groups (dissidents from the Colombian guerrilla, paramilitaries, mining mafia, drugs traffickers and so on) on Indigenous territories, limiting the communities’ freedom of movement. These groups control Indigenous movements and protect the different illegal mining sites”.
For Indigenous communities in Venezuela, mining in their ancestral lands is a fact acknowledged widely. What makes this case different is that instead of having mines managed by multinational companies as in neighboring countries, over time the mining activity has become state sponsored control by guerrilla, paramilitary and drug trafficking groups. The system has morphed into a self-sustaining, obscure and criminal structure, which is impacting everything, but specially the lives, culture, and ancestral land of the Indigenous groups in Venezuela.
Without a clean river, ancient livelihood is gone
Since ancient times, many of these communities have lived by important rivers and have depended on said rivers for transportation, food sources, and water. In what can only be described as a harmonic relationship, Indigenous communities have had an intimate understanding of the connections between survival and nature and therefore have taken care of the land and water as part of themselves.
As described by the Journal Cinco8 in its report on Arco Minero, Yekuana (the name of a well-known Indigenous people in Venezuela) means “people of the river”. Today, this river is poisoned with Mercury, and by eating anything from the river the local people are sick. A report from the High Commissioner of Human Right from the United Nations dated July 2020 says “both workers and native communities - whose territories and natural resources have been destroyed - have also been badly affected by mercury poisoning, women disproportionately, testimonies indicated.” Therefore, the social and health impact has been tremendous.
This is yet another example of the environmental racism faced by Indigenous communities globally. In an article about water pollution from mining, Carlos Revilla says “Acid is transported from the mine by water, rain or by surface currents, and subsequently deposited in nearby water ponds, streams, rivers, lakes and aquifers”. Pollution by heavy metals, erosion and sedimentation can obstruct riverbanks, delicate vegetation and habitat for fauna and aquatic organisms. And if you use mercury as they do in Venezuela, the consequences go much further.
Once the damage has been done to vegetation and rivers, food systems, clean drinking water, transportation and places that children play are no longer safe. Communities are forced to depend on processed food, polluted drinking water, and unfamiliar or expensive modes of transportation. For many communities, if the river is polluted, health and culture are gone.
Displacements and risk of Venezuelan indigenous communities to fully disappear
According to a report from May 2019 by ACNUR (The UN Refugee Agency), “Since 2016, more than 4.7 million Venezuelans have left their country, making this the largest exodus in Latin America’s history”. This has significantly impacted Indigenous communities as well, who are forced to leave their ancestral lands due to violence, health risks and more due to these illegal mines.
Noted in bulletin #18 by the Organization A.C. Kape Kape, involved in supporting Indigenous people, these migrants have to travel long distances, which may include walks of more than two weeks, up to 16 hours per day. On October 29th, it was reported that that day alone, 40 vessels with Indigenous folks were spotted migrating to Brazil. The most affected communities are Waraos, Yupka, Wayu, Pemon, Yekuana, among others. AC Kape Kape also says that, “in the specific case of the Warao community, considered the second largest ethnic group in the country, with a population of 48,000 inhabitants, the migration process started in 2014. However, it was in 2016 when this flow got much higher. So, according to (Amazonia Socioambiental, 2019) the number of Waraos that crossed the border for Brazil were 3,500 for the first quarter of 2018. Most of them go to Brazil”.
The very well-known Yanomami group in Venezuela is also suffering. In 2019, reports came out that about 20,000 Garimpeiros were invading their lands. Without any help from the Venezuelan armed forces by the border, this Indigenous group has been heavily impacted, but this problem does not get much coverage internationally.
Resource: A.C. Kape Kape Bulletin #18 on Humanitarian Emergency and Indigenous Migration.
Cultural Loss & Ethnocide
Lisa Henrito, a very important leader of the Pemon Indigenous community, said that she worries that the Pemon group will disintegrate. She says so because there are many members displaced to other countries because of confrontations with the military and other reasons. She said, “they are destroying a full generation”.
Per Journal Cinco8 in its sharp report on Arco Minero, the Indigenous groups of the Caura had "known how to maintain a balance: they had never had such direct and strong contact and transculturation with the non-natives as the Pemón, and politicking had never entered the Caura so high," says Blanco Dávila, who is a specialist in ecological tourism. The same happens with hunting, which was previously done strictly for subsistence and based on “ancestral knowledge and wisdom about the jungle: which animals to kill, which animals not to kill, knowing how to distinguish that a tapir is pregnant and therefore cannot be killed. But the environmental balance of the Indigenous people has collapsed in recent years”. The Journal Cinco8 goes on to say that the mining has made them stop all their ancestral activities.
The culture is also endangered because the elders do not have anyone to transfer their culture to. Many inhabitants are now refugees in Brazil, young people are dying from working the mines and others are being armed to protect some mines. Another example is traditional practices being lost like the Yekuana basketry, that according to Dávila has an important symbolism and ornamental value.
Vladimir Aguilar, experience researcher and professor who works for the Indigenous Matters Working Group (GTAI in Spanish, group part of the Universidad de Los Andes) says that young community members have been coerced to work in the mines, which was a practice they knew little about. Mining at that level was foreign to their tradition and culture. He ends up saying, “The horrible part is that once you lose a culture, you lose a part of humanity. You also lose part of your national identity. Venezuela was always the summation of cultures including the Indigenous culture, so we are losing part of our identity.”
Resource: www.etniasdelmundo.com
Ignore me not
Indigenous communities in Venezuela receive little to no support from local and national governments or from the international community. Internally, though they have strong constitutional protections and support from other laws, as posted by IWGIA, the mining potential for gold, coltan and diamonds from Indigenous lands has been too tempting for the government. When oil production and revenue started to decline in 2011, governments successfully implemented a huge mining decree in 2016, after an attempt in 2011, which moved forward large industrial development on and near Indigenous lands.
Internationally, Indigenous communities in Venezuela have been given the cold shoulder, especially when compared to the attention their neighbors receive. In fact, when looking at major countries in South America where Indigenous communities receive support from large international NGOs, the largest Indigenous communities in each country are being supported by at least one, and sometimes more, organization. With one exception; Venezuela.
Increasing crime rates across Venezuela in the last few decades along with continuous political conflict have made it challenging for those international organizations to have a direct presence In Venezuela. Indirect or remote cooperation from the same big international players through local Venezuelan Indigenous support group is low as well. That includes supporting local organizations research and field work, which is difficult and time consuming, but also a healthy exchange of information, and high-level reports. Even the casual re-tweets to support initiatives, concerns or internal reports created by the local Venezuelan NGOs are rare. As a matter of fact, very few of those international groups even follow their Venezuelan counterparts on Twitter. With this in mind, if feels safe to say that awareness of the crises that Indigenous communities in Venezuela face has become part of the issue.
Concluding Dilemma
As mentioned, large International Organizations that support Indigenous people do not have offices in Venezuela and are therefore not supporting the efforts of local communities.
However, the big dilemma is, should the efforts of the big international players be in the countries where they are able to establish an office and have direct presence, or should they include those countries with huge impact on their Indigenous communities despite the turbulence in the countries where Indigenous people reside? It would seem that the essence of their energies should go to the most vulnerable, regardless. Even if they dedicated more efforts to those countries where they are able to participate more directly and face-to-face, they could “partially” and casually support the ones that were meant to be helped as well in other ways. It cannot be an “all or nothing” approach, meaning if we are unable to set an office in your country, you are on your own.
Especially in today’s world, remote work or partial-remote work is possible. Obviously, not everything can be done remotely. Physical presence for research and to see conditions, impact and evolution of problems face-to-face is preferable. A second alternative is for these organizations to have local active but remote partnerships with Venezuelan Indigenous organizations, receive data from them, invite them to forums to present their experiences and other shared activities on a regular basis. A third and more casual approach would be to develop contacts via email/zoom with the most recognized and respected Venezuelan counterparts and be up to date on what goes on, invite them to webinars, and show support by retweeting important findings and news. This last option would at least show some empathy. As Maya Angelou said “I think we all have empathy. We may not have enough courage to display it”. Venezuela’s Indigenous people have that courage, and they’d welcome the bravery in others to show empathy, despite ideology or proximity to their communities.
How we can help
By writing this blog, we hope to shed light on the realities of the ecocide in Venezuela and it’s impacts on local Indigenous communities. If you are reading this, we ask for solidarity. Amplify our message in your networks, learn more by following:
@SOSorinoco (http://www.SOSorinoco.org),
@acKapeKape (impact to indigenous communities),
@SurDelOrinoco,
@Venezuelaxclima, and
@SVEcologia (http://www.SVEcologia.Org)
This blog was submitted my Marco A. Bello, youth activist and environmentalist from Venezuela.