Narpat S. Jodha, with a contribution by Dianne Russell
Through methods such as Participatory Rural Appraisal (PRA), stakeholder analysis and other participatory approaches, stakeholders are increasingly being involved in the processes of analyzing the environmental situation and are choosing, designing and implementing their conservation initiatives.
Equity in conservation concerns the way conservation activities affect the quality of life of individuals and communities. Conservation initiatives may cause an uneven spread of costs and benefits over space and time. To an extent, such uneven distribution is unavoidable because conservation measures imply changes in the existing pattern of resource access and use, processing methods, etc. These changes may affect different social groups in different ways, and may create or accentuate social and economic inequalities. For example: the restoration of a watershed may require restriction in resource use in the uphill communities, while downhill communities are the recipients of the main benefits (more and clearer water, less sediments, etc.).
In some situations, however, the uneven distribution of sacrifices and rewards may help redress existing inequities by upgrading the land and other resources owned and/or used by the poor, who generally inhabit land which is inferior and less productive. In one successful watershed development project (Tejpura, near Jhansi, India) disproportionately higher benefits to the poor were achieved in this manner. Yet, unless properly guarded against, the chances of conservation measures contributing to rural inequalities remain high.
A few issues are of particular importance. First, the poor (be they small farmers in a village in a community context or developing countries in the global context) generally possess degraded or rapidly declining resources as well as scarce capacity and means for rehabilitation and conservation.
Second, many conservation programmes, such as reforestation activities, require long development periods before producing results. The immediate sacrifices required may worsen the already vulnerable situation of the poor, making conservation measures unattractive and unacceptable to them.
Third, national, regional or global conservation programmes that involve the establishment of wildlife parks, biodiversity reserves and protected areas too often overlook the concerns and needs of local communities.
Safeguards to enhance equity in conservation programmes may involve a mix of measures dealing with compensation for sacrifices, providing a share in the gains (both short-term and long-term), incorporating the views of affected people in the choice and design of conservation measures and involving them in the implementation of specific activities.
Important steps in understanding and deciding the mix of remedial measures include:
Participatory approaches often require NGOs to play a catalytic role. These organizations can operate in a fairly decentralized way, giving an effective voice to the local people. The evidence, although limited and scattered, suggests that participatory approaches not only help address equity issues more effectively and enhance the sustainability of conservation projects, but, in very concrete terms, also enhance the quality of conservation work and may reduce its costs. This can reduce the dependence on external agencies and funding.
Through genuine participation, enhanced local capacities and a decentralized approach to conservation initiatives, communities organize themselves for action and equity issues can be effectively addressed.
Community organizing
Dianne Russell
Community organizing involves an activity or series of activities designed to mobilize communities (people living, working or investing together) toward specific social, economic or political goals. Even the smallest communities are made up of interlocking interest groups (families, clans, church groups, guilds, land-owners, castes, etc.) that do not necessarily have the same goals or perspectives, yet can act together as individuals and interest groups to achieve common goals.
Communities can be mobilized by external actors for various reasons: to curry favour and gain clients; to obtain funds from governments and donors; to promote a project or policy; or for genuine humanitarian concerns. Local people can also initiate action on their own, e.g., to get better returns for their labour, develop new revenue sources, build infrastructure, or acquire new skills.
From the outset it is important to understand the role of different actors within the community, and to know which external actors wield significant influence. Community organizing efforts can mask efforts by elites to mobilize labour for their own projects or to gain support for projects that will benefit them. Often organizing is designed to 'convince' a community to adopt a new technology or practice that is preferred by governments or elites. Genuine grassroots mobilization to gain better access to resources may be perceived by governments as dangerous and be actually repressed. If caution is exercised to avoid potential troubles such as the ones above, outside actors and local communities can work together profitably to attain political, economic and social goals.
Organizing usually begins with assessments and strategy sessions that bring together members of the community. Depending on the project and the community, this may involve representatives of families or interest groups, or the entire community. An initial session might involve mapping needs and resources. What are the local needs and goals (e.g., building a clinic, starting an adult literacy program, getting clean water)? What resources and skills are needed to accomplish these goals? Important skills include the ability to mobilize others to get work done, to account for what has been accomplished and who has benefited from the community's labour, and to resolve disputes stemming from different interest groups participating in common projects.
Dependence on external actors to sustain community organizing is a frequent problem, particularly where the services provided by external experts exceed the community's technical capacity and funds are managed by outsiders. Learning to manage funds over time and invest in long-term activities is one of the biggest challenges facing communities.
In many countries, there are structures to mobilize savings and investment at the local level. Those which have been found effective in community organizing include rotating credit associations or tontines, and mutual aid funds. Sometimes community projects involve shared labour only, with little or no monetary input.
The implications of community organizing for conservation are numerous. To develop sustainable efforts, community organizers need to analyze different interest groups, types of mobilization efforts, and mechanisms for resolving conflicts. Understanding the role of external actors in community organizing is also critical. Conservation activities that are to benefit from community organizing need to be able to meet local needs and fit within local decision-making and investment structures.
4.8 Applied ethics in conservation
Paul Spencer Sochaczewski
Unlike the current view of "empowerment", which often means that the people who really hold the power grudgingly give up a tiny slice to their poorer cousins, sacred groves are rich, diverse, mysterious intact forests which often flourish against all odds amidst urban sprawl and village development.
"Ethics?" Gilbert, a South African farmer whose livestock is regularly eaten by lions that roam outside nearby Kruger National Park, looked at me oddly. "Of course we have ethics. But what do ethics have to do with putting food on the table?"
What, for that matter, do ethics have to do with conservation? In the context of saving nature, the term "ethics" can be misleading. Used carelessly, it takes you nowhere fast. The noun implies that there is a right and a wrong: shaky ground on which to build a robust programme. Whose right? Whose wrong?
Better, perhaps, would be a conservation approach which recognizes a principle I term "complexity". By this I mean that a conservation project, if it is to be successful, should recognize that people have practical and spiritual connections with nature.
We need nature to provide food, clean air and fresh water. We need nature to give us building materials, fodder for animals and potentially-useful genes for new crops and new medicines: all the pragmatic benefits that 'green' economists insist on being included in systems of national accounts.
A conservation initiative should also recognize that people have spiritual connections with nature. Of course, the word "spiritual" is as loaded as the word "ethics". I use it in the sense of a non-pragmatic, emotional, often cultural, sometimes religious, usually personal, connection with nature. Building a bird's nest is spiritual; as might be planting a tree.
Most conservation schemes encourage governments to establish protected areas through legislation. Unfortunately, legislation might not provide all the answers, and many modern conservation areas fail because the legislation doesn't have community support. A classic example is the system of Project Tiger reserves in India, several of which are, according to Madhav Gadgil of the Indian Institute of Science, "threatened by discontented local tribal people". Local communities argue that the Delhi-based conservationists value animals more highly than they do people.
An example of how "community reserves" can serve local people can be found in the thousands of sacred forests scattered throughout Asia, Africa and other parts of the world. Sacred forests comprise some of the most successful Asian conservation programmes; it is ironic that they thrive simply because they are based largely on the community's needs and not on what the often-distant government decides should be a priority. In India, and many other parts of the world, sacred groves, or "life reserves", as one Indian villager describes them, survive today without benefit of government protection, without government nature wardens, without government education centres and sometimes even without government goodwill. Primarily Hindu or Buddhist-oriented, sacred groves flourish because they serve people's physical and spiritual needs. Unlike the current view of "empowerment", which often means that the people who really hold the power grudgingly give up a tiny slice to their poorer cousins, sacred groves are rich, diverse, mysterious intact forests which often flourish against all odds amidst urban sprawl and village development. They reflect a refreshing view of nature for the people, by the people.
In Zimbabwe I saw the practical integration of pragmatic needs with 'spiritual' foundations. Near the Great Zimbabwe Ruins, symbol of an ancient and proud empire, Chief Murinye raises his right fist in the air and shouts "pamberi nehondo yemiti, forward, the war of the trees!" This is the war cry of ZIRRCON (Zimbabwean Institute of Religious Research and Ecological Conservation), created in 1972 by Zimbabwean Inus Daneel.
ZIRRCON was created, Daneel says, "out of sheer necessity. The countryside was turning into a moonscape". ZIRRCON has planted 1.2 million trees through an imaginative approach which places tree-planting in the dual contexts of practical environmental needs and traditional spiritual and cultural values, in this case the country's 1970s chimurenga liberation struggle against the white supremacist regime of Ian Smith. ZIRRCON operates in Masvingo Province, and today counts some 328 chiefs and 65 headmen as supporters.
"Some people in this dry region have to walk five kilometres to get water," Daneel observes. "Trees will help provide regular water. But the problem is that just one in 17 trees planted in Africa survive. Here we have a survival rate of 20 to 30 per cent. This is a link between faith and earthkeeping. It is practical work".
Practical, in the ZIRRCON context, means planting trees to provide fuelwood, to stop erosion, and to provide fruit for people and fodder for domestic animals. It is also spiritual work, since trees support Zimbabwean's varied traditions and belief patterns.
Chief S. M. Mugabe notes that ZIRRCON's objective is to shift the war of liberation to the land, and to put that war in a practical and spiritual context. Chief Murinye adds that the independence war unified Christian and traditional beliefs, and that "the need now is to bring them together for the war of trees". Recognizing Zimbabwe's religious diversity, ZIRRCON works with traditional healers and chiefs, and also with the dozens of African traditional Christian churches.
Regardless of religious orientation (and the borderline between denominations is often vague), all Zimbabweans realize the importance of rain. During the long dry period, it is common for Zimbabwe newspapers to run stories like "Battle for control of Njelele shrine", which told of the passionate disputes among three prominent families to manage a tree-covered hill that is important in rain-making ceremonies. Water is the critical issue here, and trees help keep streams flowing year round. The most effective wars are those fought for an ideal: democracy or religion come to mind. Or, in Zimbabwe's case, an objective of a just war is to gain the blessings of the ancestors.
My introduction to a ZIRRCON tree-planting event took place with traditional tribal priests who brewed beer under a cork tree, part of an ancient rain-making ceremony. My guide was Chief Murinye who, like most members of ZIRRCON, has taken on a nom de guerre that reflects a tree name, in his case muvuyu, or great baobab. "The graves of our forefathers are naked [devoid of trees]. We're ashamed. Our ancestors are watching what we do here. If they approve they'll send rain." During the ritual I have been named mushavi, or fig. I plant trees with Chizu, an 11-year-old girl. Her nom de guerre is mitobge: custard apple.
One hot afternoon in Zano village, I joined some 50 bishops of various African independent Christian churches, who sprinkled holy water on ground that was soon to welcome tree saplings. Bishop Mutikizizi, tall and elegant in a scarlet robe and light blue cape, white scarf and six-pointed crown of scarlet cloth and sequins, offered communion to the villagers and simultaneously blessed the tiny saplings they held in their hands.
The bishop hears confession from his parishioners. Confessions of pride and sloth and bad behaviour that are probably similar to those most priests hear anywhere in the world. And confessions of ecological sins. One woman nursing a baby confesses: "I've cut a living tree without planting one to replace it". An old man admits to clearing natural vegetation in order to grow crops on riverbanks. Another man says: "I failed to manage contours on steep land". Yet another admits to letting his goats overgraze pasture land. Daneel believes that ultimately, unrepentant ecological sinners will increasingly find themselves debarred from participating in the Eucharist.
Reverend Solomon Zvanaka, ZIRRCON General Secretary, adds: "We fought for the land but once we got it the land was eroded. The traditional healers and tribal chiefs emphasize the war and bring back customs that were thrown away by white rule. And the [Christian] bishops look at our work as taking responsibility for the creation". Chief Murinye observes "there is a correlation between sins and drought. We need peace at all levels, peace within ourselves, and peace with the earth".
4.9 Biodiversity and rural livelihood
Ashish Kothari
The intricate relationship between wild and domesticated ecosystems and species, in terms of inter-crossing, pollination, pest control, water/soil cycles, etc. is often well-understood by such communities; their landscape is a mosaic of human-made and natural habitats merging into one other.
For city-dwellers who are used to getting their daily needs from the market, it is difficult to appreciate the extent of rural communities' direct dependence on biological resources. A vast section of humanity still derives its livelihood, as well as its cultural and bodily sustenance, from the resources directly available from forests, wetlands, grasslands, and marine areas. Even predominantly agricultural communities continue to depend on such resources for a number of requirements.
Here we look briefly at this dependence, emphasising how the diversity of biological resources available to a community leads directly to greater livelihood security. Livelihood is defined here as the way of life and work which helps persons or communities to meet their needs for survival. An understanding of the relationship between livelihood and biodiversity is essential in planning conservation strategies which are socially and ecologically sustainable.
"The economic and social values of much of the biodiversity that nurtures people in and around protected areas have been ignored or under-perceived by outside professionals. This has biased conventional resource planning in integrated conservation and development projects in favour of major food crops and species of commercial importance" (Ghimire and Pimbert, 1996).
Rural populations typically require the following for their livelihood: food (including drink), fuel, fodder, medicine, material for construction and implements, and products to exchange or sell in markets. Traditional societies have always met these requirements from biological and other natural elements, in most cases from ecosystems immediately surrounding them. At least 3,000 species of plants have been used through history for food purposes alone; some 21,000 species have been used for medicinal purposes. In India even today, more than 3,000 species of plants are in use by tribal and non-tribal peasant communities for medicinal uses.
Communities in various pre-industrial modes of existence — hunting-gathering, fishing, pastoral, and agricultural — have varying degrees and kinds of dependence on biodiversity.
Predominantly hunting-gathering and subsistence fishing communities are typically those most directly and completely dependent on wildlife, with most of their survival requirements met by the plants and animals which inhabit their ecosystems. Such communities not only use a great diversity of biological elements (some tribal communities using several hundred species of plants and animals; in a region of Peru, fruits of 193 species are consumed), but also use each element in a diversity of ways (a single Grewia species is used in the Indian Himalayas for fodder, fuel, fertilizer, fibre, soap, and medicine). Such diversification is a critical response mechanism to ensure sustainability of resource use. Natural ecosystems are likely to be degraded and face collapse if some elements are overused, and hunting-gathering or fishing communities do not have the luxury of switching to alternatives if this happens.
Nomadic pastoralists and shifting cultivators, undeservedly condemned by wider society as being destructive, actually make optimum use of the biodiversity of ecosystems and species. They depend on ecosystems which cannot withstand sustained use (tropical rainforests, grasslands, etc.), so they have adapted to using a larger range, thereby allowing fragile ecosystems to 'rest' and regenerate. A large number of plant species are used for the requirements of livestock, including fodder and medicine. In India, there is even a systematic traditional science of animal veterinary care (Mrgayurveda), which specifies the use of a large diversity of plants for medicinal purposes.
Subsistence cultivators attempt to optimize their production systems by using a diversity of crop-livestock systems, supplemented by resources taken from natural ecosystems. Typically, the genetic diversity developed by such farmers is very high; in India, cultivators have used over 50,000 varieties of rice alone. Nearby forests and wetlands are used for leaf manure, pest control products, supplemental food, fodder, biomass fuel, medicinal products, and a range of other needs. The intricate relationship between wild and domesticated ecosystems and species, in terms of inter-crossing, pollination, pest control, water/soil cycles, etc. is often well-understood by such communities; their landscape is a mosaic of human-made and natural habitats merging into one other.
Even the market requirements of such communities are met by this biodiversity. Across the world, for instance, a great variety of non-timber produce is extracted by communities living in or adjacent to forests. Bamboo, cane, medicines, fruits and nuts, honey, gum, oils, fibre, spices, resin, biopesticides, etc: the range of products is almost infinite. For centuries these products have been bartered in traditional markets and across great distances; with the entry of the monetary market, they are also important sources of income for rural populations. Studies in Botswana and other countries suggest that, even for many farming families, income from wild products is higher than from cultivated ones.
Direct dependence on biodiversity is lowest for large commercial farmers, but it nevertheless continues to be very real in an indirect way: the continued survival and upgrading of agriculture still depends on genetic and other inputs from wild relatives and traditional varieties of crops and livestock. In addition, new sources of food and other agricultural products continue to be found from wild plants and animals.
Although the issue has not been studied in depth, there are strong indications that the economic value of sustainable harvests of a diversity of forest produce is higher than if the forest were to be cleared for timber, or converted into a monoculture plantation. If one adds the social and cultural values of biodiversity, the net importance may be far greater. This can be a powerful argument for conservation.
To conclude, biodiversity is critically important to people's livelihood in the following ways:
Conversely, approaches which ensure sustainable access to livelihood resources, enhance the benefits which local populations can derive from natural ecosystems, and attempt to change unsustainable practices through enabling and persuading rather than force, will generate the public support which alone can make conservation effective.
References
Ghimire, K. and M. Pimbert, Social Change and Conservation: Environmental Politics and Impacts of National Parks and Protected Areas, UNRISD, Geneva, 1996 (in press).
4.10 Local knowledge in conservation
Mark Poffenberger
Two understudied but critically important categories of indigenous knowledge include local resource management institutions and land-use systems. Locally-instituted mechanisms to control access, participatory decision-making processes, and conflict resolution procedures will be even more necessary to sustain the resources as population and economic pressures on forests increase.
The earth's remarkable cultural diversity and heritage reflect the extent of local knowledge of natural systems and how they are best managed to meet human needs. For thousands of years communities around the world have experimented with technologies, social systems, beliefs and values which allowed them to sustain themselves in an immense range of ecosystems. Today the growing dominance of western systems of scientific thought, governance structures and modern technologies is displacing many of the older ways of dealing with our environment. While the erosion and extinction of community-based resource management institutions have not been studied as much as biodiversity loss, they are also rapid and accelerating as they are supplanted by modern systems of government, market economies, and urban culture. In another generation, local knowledge of forest biology, sustainable use practices and management institutions may be largely lost. Only through national policies and programmes that extend legitimacy to informal community management systems — and through cultures that value them — can they continue to function.
In recent years there has been a growing interest in integrating local knowledge into development planning and resource management sys-tems. Unfortunately, this effort has largely involved collecting a limited amount of information about farming systems, forest management practices, and knowledge of traditional medicinal species. While participatory rapid appraisal (PRA) methods can help generate this type of information, current techniques often reveal only a small amount of such knowledge with respect to their embedding systems of resource management. What is perhaps far more fundamental is engaging local communities in meaningful dialogues and building on such knowledge. To do this, we need ongoing communication and a way for the socio-cultural systems of disempowered groups, often linguistically different, to negotiate with modern, urban-based societies and governments.
In the field of forest management, much of the attention paid to local knowledge focuses on revealing the commercial potential of information regarding species utilization. Two understudied but critically important categories of indigenous knowledge include local resource management institutions and land-use systems. Locally-instituted mechanisms to control access, participatory decision-making processes, and conflict resolution procedures will be even more necessary to sustain the resources as population and economic pressures on forests increase. Understanding and supporting such institutions and their function will enable government agencies and other stakeholders to collaborate in the sustainably productive use of forests.
Many local land and forest technologies, designed over hundreds of years to meet site specific conditions, have proved to be both productive and sustainable. Yet, they have received only marginal attention in development planning, while untested modern techniques have been subsidized and supported through policies and programmes. In many contexts, local forest-use systems may remain the most appropriate practices. In other situations, they can be further enhanced through emerging science and new market opportunities. Local technologies, however, are never applied in a vacuum. They are usually supported through traditional institutions, which constitute the broader forest management system. Policies which reinforce community tenure rights to forest resources need to be linked to programmes which encourage the practice and development of such systems.
Since knowledge of these local systems rests with the community, government planners need to establish communication channels on management objectives and operations. Yet, planners are often from different social class backgrounds, and even cultural and linguistic groups, than the communities they plan for. Transferring information from indigenous, rural communities to urban-based organizations presents problems. A common frame of reference needs to be established whereby information can be shared and its implications assessed. Typically, local information is translated into the language of the urban planner and administrator, often losing meaning and specificity in the process.
Systems of local management need to be understood by planners if they are to be used to develop collaborative systems, linking informal community groups with larger governance structures. For example, many local communities have complex resource-use systems, each with their own names, sets of use rules and restrictions, tenure status, and technologies. Among the Tai ethnic minority of northern Vietnam, there are at least four major categories of forest, ranging from strict protection, secondary productions, bamboo, and long rotation agriculture-young forest. Government planners need to establish land-use systems, using local names and terminology, to facilitate discussions with communities regarding management policies and programmes affecting their areas.
Complex systems of leadership, decision-making, dispute arbitration, and other components of local management systems also need to be identified by local terms; initially to facilitate communications between outsiders and community members, and over the long term to bring these elements effectively into collaborative decision-making. Local management systems may be better understood by working with com-munities to visually illustrate processes and systems. Ethno-land-use typologies are particularly helpful in identifying resource interaction patterns.
Local knowledge also extends to attitudes and beliefs. Of particular importance are local perceptions of resource rights, which are often based on the community's history in the area. Different communities and other stakeholders may share a common history, but differ in their interpretation of past events and agreements. This information is important in developing collaborative management mechanisms and agreements.
The realm of local knowledge, attitudes, and beliefs is so vast that it cannot be realistically integrated within the planning of most development activities and policies. But it is critically important that those institutions and resource management systems which operate and interface with policy and programmes are not only acknowledged, but understood and integrated with emerging government strategies.
Perhaps the first step necessary is mapping and documenting the existence of such systems. One Indonesian community forestry mapping specialist noted: "Just the process of recording the villagers' knowledge of their land and their history is empowering… The maps give the villagers some means of communicating with other land users, and some negotiating platform if there are conflicts." (Sirait, 1995). Similarly, when a Vietnamese forestry research team asked a district official about local management, he replied that it was the first time anyone from the capital had shown interest in traditional systems, even though much of the area's critical watersheds were protected under the informal institutions of the ethnic minorities of the area.
Until very recently, there was a clear message from the world's capitals and centres of development. Local knowledge was irrelevant, and modern technologies and 'scientific' information were the only basis for development. This arrogant perspective is beginning to change, although there are daunting complexities in creating common frames of reference that might merge local and modern government cultures of management. Simply acknowledging that local knowledge is a valuable resource in evolving sustainable development strategies and resource management systems is a first step. More will need to follow.
References
Sirait, M. T., "Mapping customary land: a case study of Long Uli village East Kalimantan, Indonesia", 20 pp, unpublished, as cited in Poole, P., Indigenous Peoples, Mapping & Biodiversity Conservation, BSP Peoples and Forest Program, Discussion Paper Series, Washington D.C., 1995.
4.11 Indigenous peoples and protected areas
Janis B. Alcorn
Indigenous people are seldom consulted when decisions are made about where state-sponsored protected areas are to be established, or about how those protected areas should be managed.
Conservationists have increasingly recognized the enormous spatial and political overlap between protected areas and indigenous peoples (Alcorn 1994). While most protected areas overlap with local communities to some degree, and hence require the general actions outlined in this resource set, there are special problems and opportunities related to achieving conservation programmes in collaboration with indigenous communities (Colchester 1995b). These problems and opportunities are also widespread, since in many cases the local people inside and near protected areas are indigenous peoples; particularly in the Americas where 80 per cent of protected areas include indigenous peoples.
Issues and opportunities
Working with indigenous peoples requires paying conscious attention to the issues and opportunities that arise from recognizing and supporting the coexistence of a people whose cultural values and institutions differ from those of the dominant culture. As a result, some conservation agencies have entered into dialogues with indigenous communities to identify specific avenues for appropriate collaboration. At the same time, however, many other conservation agencies continue to ignore the presence and rights of indigenous peoples in areas targeted for conservation of biological diversity. This concept file summarizes the key concepts and opportunities related to this issue.
| Box 12 Indigenous peoples
Peoples are considered indigenous if they are:
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Most indigenous peoples are politically marginal groups living within the borders of nation states dominated by other ethnic groups and labelled by generic terms that cover many different peoples within a nation state (e.g., tribals, hill tribes, Indians, indios, sea gypsies, pygmies, dayaks, igorots, inuit, bedouins). Indigenous peoples claim property rights to ancestral lands/waters, and they claim the right to retain their own customary laws, traditions, languages, and institutions, as well as the right to represent themselves through their own organizations (Hitchcock, n.d.). Often, however, these rights are not recognized or defended by the states controlling the areas where they live. Indigenous peoples living in areas of high biodiversity can also generally be characterized as ecosystem people (see concept file on indigenous resource management systems) who are closely linked to their local land/water base and who have developed resource management systems and social institutions which are responsive to environmental feedback.
The term "protected area" used here follows the definitions established by IUCN. It covers the full range of existing categories, from areas under strict protection to areas under multiple use management, including areas that are defined locally with, or without, national recognition (such as sacred groves). The success of a protected area depends on the strong local presence of organizations that have a vested interest in maintaining the protected area, and the capacity to prevent unacceptable uses of the area's resources.
| Box 13 Protected areas
A protected area is an area of land and/or sea especially dedicated to the protection and maintenance of biological diversity, and of natural and associated cultural resources, and managed through legal or other effective means. Different protected area categories include (IUCN, 1994):
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The failure to include and support indigenous peoples in decision-making lies at the heart of the issues emerging from the intersection of protected areas and indigenous peoples' lands and waters. If conservationists recognize indigenous peoples rights, then they must also accept the responsibility of ensuring that indigenous peoples play a central and long-term role in decision-making related to protected areas.
Decision-making issues are associated with two main thematic areas:
Both relocation and resettlement restrictions disrupt social structure and cultures and directly threaten physical and economic well-being. Resettlement often disrupts the lives of people who live in or use the lands where people have been forced to go, which in turn lead to secondary social and cultural processes that also erode support for protected areas (see also the concept file on social concerns in resettlement programmes).
Current protected area selection and management structures may even undermine prospects for future participation of indigenous peoples in decision-making. Indigenous peoples' decision-making processes occur through traditional institutions guided by cultural values that are generally supportive of conservation goals. Yet most states create new organizations and institutions to carry out state-imposed programmes (including protected area programmes) and thereby undermine existing institutions (see Colchester 1995a).
This can lead to a double failure: of both new organizations and strong pre-existing institutions. In addition, broad state policies usually enforce the integration of indigenous people into the mainstream consumer culture by actively destroying traditional values, customs, and language.
At times conservationists have allied themselves with military-based states and thereby legitimized some human rights abuses against indigenous peoples who resist the implementation of protected areas on their lands (Peluso, 1993). These violations of indigenous peoples' rights have led to anger and armed resistance, both of which have negative consequences for the sustainability of conservation. During the last decade, indigenous peoples have raised the issues of human rights violations by conservationists at international levels.
By failing to treat indigenous peoples as decision-makers with valuable insights and prior rights, conservationists have turned potentially win-win situations into lose-lose ones. Indigenous peoples have suffered the consequences of conservationists' decisions, and conservationists are realizing they have lost critical opportunities for achieving their desired goals.
Recognizing those lost opportunities, conservationists have developed new initiatives to respond to the convergence of indigenous peoples and protected areas. These include:
Policy and legal reforms
Policy and legal reforms are necessary to enable indigenous peoples to participate in real decision-making. At the international level, policy reforms are being started within donor and development agencies (e.g., Asian Development Bank, World Bank, Interamerican Development Bank, Dutch bilateral aid). But these policies are often very narrowly applied; the on-the-ground impact of donor projects on indigenous peoples and their natural environment continues to be negative. Joint efforts between conservation organizations and indigenous peoples are developing specific collaborative policies for guiding protected area management (e.g., World Wild Fund for Nature, IUCN).
A few countries offer examples of how policies can create support for protected area management by indigenous people. In Mexico, Australia, Panama and Papua New Guinea, for example, policies recognize indigenous peoples' rights to establish, administer and benefit from protected areas under programmes that offer support and assistance from the state in response to requests from the communities (c.f. Cordell, 1993; Fingleton, 1993; Grupo para la Conservacion del Tropico en Mexico, 1992; Herlihy, 1990; Hill and Press, 1994; Toledo, 1992).
In those countries, other policies indirectly support protected area management, by recognizing communal property, defending indigenous peoples' rights, promoting income-generation opportunities for local communities, and supporting cultural values and institutions through radio access, educational programmes and development councils. Yet, other sectoral policies continue to conflict with the mandate under which these reforms were promulgated; policies on mining and agricultural loans are particularly problematic. The examples from Mexico, Australia, Panama and Papua New Guinea are not ideal, but they are on the cutting edge of reform worldwide.
Globally, broad policy and legal reforms will be essential to support true coexistence — which is the necessary basis of real partnerships between indigenous peoples and others. Unless indigenous peoples are allowed to maintain their coexistence by preserving their own religions, languages, customary laws, and institutions within the structures of the nation state, then narrow reforms focused on protected areas are not likely to have sustainable conservation impacts. In many places, settlers have moved into areas occupied by indigenous peoples, and this presents a thorny set of problems that cannot be avoided in efforts to support coexistence. Solutions to these problems cannot simply be mandated; lasting solutions can only be worked out through processes involving local stakeholders.
New methods and structures
The second key area of reform covers the specific methods and structures used in protected area planning, implementation, and monitoring. Although there are programmes which recognize protected areas established by indigenous peoples themselves, there are few examples of indigenous peoples being consulted in developing national protected areas systems, or even in demarcating the borders of specific protected areas, even these are two obvious areas for potential collaboration. In recent years, there has been increased talk of co-management. Yet, in most countries, co-management programmes offer insufficient opportunities for indigenous peoples to take the lead in decision-making (e.g., Chapeskie, 1995).
Decision-making processes are controlled by government and indigenous peoples' participation is often limited to representation on a board dominated by non-indigenous people and operating under concepts and rules defined by non-indigenous value systems. This type of decision-making does not build on the strengths of coexistence. If support for coexistence becomes a priority, then increased emphasis must be placed on ensuring that indigenous peoples' decision-making is based on full information. Conservation agencies should focus on providing such information and assisting indigenous peoples to implement and evaluate their own decisions.
Today, indigenous people are most frequently being offered opportunities to monitor wildlife populations, but governments generally fail to acknowledge indigenous peoples rights to monitor other aspects of protected area management. For example, governments generally ignore indigenous peoples reports on the negative conservation impacts of mining, logging, and other capital-intensive extractive activities within protected areas.
Community-based mapping offers one of the most promising ways to initiate the participation of indigenous peoples in protected area management (Poole, 1995). If mapping is properly implemented in a highly participatory manner, it offers twin benefits. On the one hand, it produces specific information about conservation in a medium that both parties understand; this can start the process of negotiation and information-sharing. Second, it is a tool for community organizing that brings people together. Sharing knowledge about the state of their territory is tantamount to sharing the most essential knowledge about themselves, because of the close relationship between space, history and identity among most indigenous peoples. Mapping reminds individuals of their cultural ties to a place and informs outsiders of their rights to the area. Mapping to negotiate rights in protected areas has rarely been used, however, by pastoralists or other peoples with seasonal rights to resources. (For mapping and other methods see Section 5, Volume 2.)
There is strong resistance to recognizing indigenous peoples' decision-making rights in many quarters, including national agencies and international conservation organizations. Fears of loss of control continue to drive the promulgation of myths and counter-myths. Hardline conservationists think that those who support indigenous peoples' rights are the same ones who believe indigenous peoples are 'natural conservationists' or 'noble savages' (Alcorn, 1994). This misrepresents the primary reason why conservationists should recognize the decision-making authority of indigenous peoples; that is, indigenous people have prior rights over the lands/waters in which conservationists are expressing interest, including the rights to make decisions about how to manage those lands. While in many cases indigenous peoples do make decisions based on strong conservation values, this should not be the criteria for recognizing indigenous peoples rights in protected area selection and management.
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