In Brazil, Demarcation of Indigenous Lands Stalls and Violence Worsens

Por

27 July, 2015

Adenilson da Silva Nascimento, a 54-year-old indigenous man better known as Pinduca Tumpinambá, grew up and lived his entire life in his village in the region known as Serra desTempes, Olivença, in the northeastern Brazilian state of Bahia. This year, on the first of May, he was returning from a day’s work fishing with his wife and two of his six children – a one-year-old baby and a girl of 15 — when they were ambushed by three armed, hooded men who instantly killed Pinduca. His wife Zenaildes shielded the baby with her body and received serious gunshot wounds to her leg and back. Their daughter fled through the forest, maintaining cell phone contact with members of the village, who called the authorities.

The indigenous leader María Valdelice, better known as Jamapoti Tumpinambá, says that this is not the first time something like this has happened. She says it all has to do with their indigenous lands and the people interested in them. “There have been more than 29 indigenous killed in just three regions of Tumpinambá lands in the state of Bahía, between 2013 and 2015. The government bears responsibility because they have not delineated our lands and there are people claiming these lands for themselves,” Jamapoti told the Americas Program.

Two days later, in another village named Pambú, which belongs to the Tumabalalá people in the municipality of Arabé, a 40-year-old indigenous man named Gilmar Alves da Silva, was hit by a car while he was returning home on his motorcycle. Then, while he was on the ground, he was shot several times. Gilmar was able to tell part of the story himself; he had strength to return to his village by motorcycle, but died soon after.

This made three murders in a two-week time period from late April to early May, all with the same modus operandi. Eusébio Ka’apor, from the Alto Turiaçu indigenous territory, in the state of Maranhão, was assassinated April 26; he was shot in the back.

For four days and three nights, more than 1,500 indigenous individuals filled one of the gardens in front of the National Congress with colors, music and rituals. (Photo: **Santiago Navarro F.**)

The Consejo Indigenista Misionario [Indigenous Missionary Council of the Brazilian Catholic Bishops’ Conference, or CIMI] issued an immediate response, declaring that “Based on our evaluation, the cowardly attacks that led to the deaths of Eusebius Ka’apor on April 26 in the state of Maranhão; Adenilson da Silva Nascimento, on Tupinambá territory on May 1; and Gilmar Alves da Silva, on Tumbalalá lands on May 3, in the state of Bahía, are not isolated incidents. This is a case of selected serial killings of indigenous leaders and the indigenous peoples of Brazil.”

CIMI also maintains that these assassinations are linked to the racist discourse of members of the National Congress, specifically the congressional faction known as “ruralists,” who have paralyzed the process of demarcation of indigenous lands and openly favor transnational corporations.

In Brazil — the largest country in Latin America, Agrarian Reform comes down to one law, No. 4.504, passed during the military dictatorship (1964-1985). Among other provisions, it states: “Agrarian reform is the set of measures designed to promote the best distribution of land, through modifications to the law governing its possession and use, to comply with the principles of social justice and increase productivity.”

According to CIMI’s records, the assassinations of indigenous people in Brazil have occurred over several governments. In the administration of Fernando Enrique Cardoso (1995 – 1998 and 1999 – 2002) 167 assassinations of indigenous persons were registered. During the administration of Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva (2003 – 2006 and 2007 – 2010) the number of assassinations rose to 452. In 2011, President Dilma Rousseff’s first year in office, 51 killings were recorded, and in 2012 there were 57 more.

Distribution for whom?

In reality, land distribution in this country seems to be only for the agro-industrial and real-estate sectors. According to the National Institute on Agrarian Reform (INCRA), in 2007 and 2008 the concentration of land owned by foreign capital, most of it from the United States and Europe, increased by 12 kilometers a day. In 2010, this represented an accumulation of more than 4.5 million hectares, concentrated in the states of São Paulo, Bahía, Minas Gerais and Mato Grosso. Added to this are the vast extensions of territory that the federal government grants to mining, petroleum, clean energy, and other interests – all in the name of economic growth.

Indigenous women leaders were also present for the taking of congress to denounce violations of human rights suffered by indigenous people. (Photo: **Santiago Navarro F.**)

More than 60 percent of the nation’s lands are public, but they not officially delineated and registered as public patrimony. Instead they are often informally occupied by private owners, even as the government says there is no land for Agrarian Reform. But there is land for sugar cane, eucalyptus, soy,” says Nadia Akauã of the indigenous Tucú village. “Agro-toxins are driving out indigenous communities, because they are being poisoned. Not a single government project takes indigenous people into consideration.”

“We no longer believe in the government because it is all set to have Congress approve congressional amendment PEC-215, which denies our right, our ancestry, and our spirituality. The government is already dominated by the multinational soy, eucalyptus, and corn industries. The ruralist caucus in Congress has no interest in meeting the needs of Brazilian society; on the contrary, they want more growth and they either order us to be killed or they send in the police and the military,” Ytajibá Souza, one of the indigenous leaders of Tucum village, told the Americas Program.

In reference to the distribution of lands for agroindustry, the ecological economist Joan Martínez Alier, in his article Sudamérica: el triunfo del post extractivismo en el 2015, refers to neoliberal and progressive countries that persist in promoting primary exports to the point of saying that in order to have less extraction of raw materials, there has to be more. Martínez said that a ton of raw materials that is imported has always been more expensive than a ton that is exported, even at the height of the boom in the price of prime materials “… Peru, Brazil and Colombia export, in tons, much more than they import, and they can’t even pay for their imports,” says Martínez Alier.

A Xucuru dancer in front of the National Congress in April 2015. The indigenous Xucuru people from the state of Pernambuco are from one of the best-organized groups in Brazil. (Photo: **Santiago Navarro F.**)

In 2012 the organization GRAIN reported on an investigation of the intermediaries for multinational corporations in the countries where the most land grabbing is taking place. To cite just one example, in Brazil José Minaya, general manager of the Teachers Insurance & Annuity Association – College Retirement Equities Fund (TIAA-CREF) in the United States, has seen to it that the retirement savings and investments of U.S. professors are channeled into the expansion of sugar cane, among other projects in Brazil. Sugar cane, along with other types of plantations, is characterized by the use of slave labor, destruction of ecosystems, and theft of indigenous lands. According to GRAIN’s report, 3 percent of the population of Brazil own nearly two-thirds of arable land.

Thus, the assassination of Adenilson is not an isolated situation, Carlos José F. Santos an indigenous professor at the State University of Santa Cruz (UESC), insists.

“It is important to point out that Pinduca was an indigenous leader respected for his clarity about our rights, about our indigenous way of thinking that is contrary to the interests of the ruralists —owners of vast expanses of land— about capitalists and predatory development. This made many people uncomfortable",
SANTOS TOLD THE AMÉRICAS PROGRAM.

“People from NGOs and the government have come to talk about REDD [Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation program, the platform for a market for the exchange of carbon credits, or pollution permits, by the world’s corporations that produce carbon dioxide emissions] and protected areas, but we are careful, because there is always something else going on behind the scenes. Without these programs, we are taking care of our Mother Earth. Moreover, we know how to take care of her and do our own monitoring; the government has no reason to get involved,” Ytajibá said.

Another form of concentration of land ownership in Brazil has taken place through ecological colonialism, where land is granted by means of national and transnational agreements to non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to be administered by them. These organizations include the Canadian International Development Organization (CIDA); Ford Foundation, Club 1001; Both Ends; Survival International; Conservation International (CI); Inter-American Foundation; MacArthur Foundation; Rockefeller Foundation; W. Alton Jones Foundation; World Wildlife Foundation; Summer Linguistics Institute (SIL); National Wildlife Federation (NWF) ; The Nature Conservancy; European Working Group on Amazonia (EWIC); and International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). These organizations, among others, have interfered in regional and federal planning for the conservation of areas denominated as Protected Areas, where speculation takes place with so-called carbon credits – designed to allow countries or industries from wealthy countries to continue to pollute while other countries, such as Brazil, conserve their ecosystems – that directly affect indigenous communities.

The Tumpinambá no longer expect anything from the state

The National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), in an anthropological report about the ancestral lands of the Tupinambá, acknowledged the presence of at least 4,700 members of the Tupinambá indigenous group, concentrated in at least 23 communities between the mountains and the coast in the state of Bahia. In the same study, the FUNAI acknowledged that more than 47,000 hectares are Tupinambá lands.

Nevertheless, the Brazilian government has failed to officially recognize these lands as belonging to the Tupinambá. Since 2004 , several Tupinambá villages have reclaimed for themselves at least 80 percent of the territory officially recognized by the FUNAI report. The Tupinambá are one of the few indigenous peoples of Brazil who have dared to demarcate their borders on their own and occupy those lands. They have expelled ranchers, landowners and others who had power over enormous amounts of land, some of which were destined to become tourist complexes with luxury hotels and restaurants.

According to Itajubá, one of the oldest leaders of the indigenous village Tukum and a teacher of the Tupinambá language, “We already waited too long and don’t intend to wait any longer; this is the territory of our ancestors and if the minister does not demarcate our lands, we’ll do it ourselves; we’re not afraid.”

Arson

Meanwhile, on May 7 in the village of Patiburi, in Belmonte, when everyone was harvesting their cacao, two houses were set on fire, along with part of their plantings. According to a CIMI report, these actions against the village of Patiburi have intensified since the end of 2013, when the delimitation of territorial borders and the reports of the FUNAI studies were published in the Diario Oficial del Estado [Federal Gazette].

“The government had an opportunity to directly negotiate with us, and I think that opportunity is over. Because we can already see that we don’t have a space for dialogue, and because decisions are made without consulting anyone. And our young people have to prepare for a new moment of struggle. Because we have the time of our rituals, of planting and harvest, but we also have the time of war. If we don’t die, we cannot be born anew, and if they do not want to establish those borders, we will occupy and we will fight to the point of offering our lives to the spirits — our ancestors — if it’s necessary,” insisted Nadia Akauã.

Indigenous People Occupy Brazil’s Legislature, Protesting Bill’s Violation of Land Rights

Por

Renata Bessi y Santiago Navarro F

30 April, 2015

Indigenous leaders from the five regions of Brazil traveled for days to an encampment convoked by the Coordinating Body of Brazil's indigenous people (APIB), which took place from April 13 to 16 in the federal district in Brasilia. The district is both a geographical center and a center of power in Brazil, as it is where the three branches of government are headquartered.

For four days and three nights, more than 1,500 indigenous individuals filled one of the gardens in front of the National Congress with colors, music and rituals. Their principal objective was to put pressure on the three branches of government so that the proposed constitutional amendment No. 215 - better known as the PEC 215/2000 - is not passed. This amendment, among other things, would transfer the decision-making power of demarcation of indigenous territories to Brazil's legislative branch. Currently, this type of legal-political decision is in the hands of the executive branch.

Within Brazil's Congress, there is a faction known as the "Rural Legislators," a group of legislators who have transferred jurisdiction over private multinational companies to the legislative branch. Of the 50 members of Congress that make up the special commission that will review the proposed constitutional amendment, PEC 215/2000, at least 20 financed their electoral campaigns with support from big farming, mining and energy firms, as well as from the forestry sector and banks. Among the members of the Rural Legislators group is Agriculture Minister Katia Abreu, a business owner and fierce defender of big agriculture businesses. Another is Luis Carlos Heinze, one of the leaders of the group, who is also the president of the Parliamentary Farming Front (FPA). In 2014, a lawsuit was brought against him by indigenous organizations because he encouraged industrial farmers to use armed guards in order to forcibly remove indigenous people from their land.

Those who attended the protest dressed in their traditional attire as leaders and sages of the community and painted their faces with vibrant vegetable-based paints of red, yellow and black. Some smoked tobacco; others prepared their bows and arrows. It was a moment to take to the streets and deliver a letter signed by all of the groups present at the encampment, addressed to President Dilma Rousseff, urging her to approve and sign a bill that is still within her power regarding 20 indigenous territories. They also reminded her of her commitment, expressed to indigenous groups during her presidential campaign in an open letter in 2014, where she pledged not to change the constitution and to move ahead with demarcating indigenous lands.

"During her presidential campaign, she [Dilma Rousseff] committed to demarcating indigenous territory in Brazil. Today, we see that indigenous people are moving toward complete disappearance," said Francisco da Silva, an indigenous Kapinawá leader from the state of Pernambuco. "If she herself does not honor her own words and the constitution, the only thing left for us to do is for us to demarcate our own territories and to defend our ancestral lands ourselves, because if we do nothing, this law will leave us in the hands of the multinational corporations."

While the encampment was underway in Brasilia, Rousseff was asked by various media outlets in an April 15 press conference about those who were protesting. Her response attempted to discredit the presence of the indigenous groups. She affirmed that the discussion regarding indigenous rights in her administration is "systematic," and stated that "there is no unified indigenous movement; the question regarding indigenous movements is not singular; it is diverse."

"Having declared that, [Rousseff] committed a grave error in her discourse, because we are here with representatives of the five regions of the country, with more than 200 different indigenous groups represented," said Sonia Guajajara, an indigenous woman from the state of Maranhao in northeast Brazil.

The military police were constantly present, protecting the headquarters of Brazil's three branches of government from the indigenous protesters. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F.)

Dried Up Dialogue

The indigenous leader Babau Tupinamba, leader of one of the best-organized groups in Brazil, who live with a high degree of self-sufficiency, readily affirmed that indigenous people need to prepare themselves for a more radical, even violent struggle. "I said in the Congress that we have returned to colonial times. And we, as the Tupinamba, the first people to confront the colonizers in the year 1500, today we call on all indigenous people to prepare themselves for a confrontation. And if it is necessary, we will even form a guerrilla force if this law is not rejected," he told Truthout.

Babau knows that his words carry a heavy weight and extreme responsibility, but argues that what is at risk are the lives of the indigenous people who are being assassinated by the owners of industrial farms. "We as indigenous people are pacifists; we have no desire to have a confrontation; we just want our lands. But with these types of decisions, they are pushing us to a point of rebellion. If we don't have another option and they continue like this - there are 102 proposals in Congress against indigenous people - we will have to form a guerrilla, because we are not going to let them force us off our ancestral lands; we refuse to leave. Because an indigenous person without land is no longer indigenous."

The PEC 215 bill is just one of the many violations of the human rights of indigenous people in Brazil. "There is no community right now that is not suffering the impacts of a capitalist project. Behind the impetus for this law are the interests of Monsanto, Nestlé, Syngenta, Cargill and other corporations that want to take our lands. They are the same ones that promote the killing of indigenous people," Rootsi Tsitna, an indigenous person from the state of Mato Grosso do Sul, told Truthout.

All indigenous groups have suffered violations of their human rights. "There are hundreds of projects in indigenous communities and none of them consulted the people. They are violating the 1988 constitution, which came at the cost of a lot of blood, and the United Nation's International Labor Convention 169, which establishes the requirement of previous consultation of indigenous people. We should not have to negotiate anything, because they are our lands and it is our right [to be here]," said da Silva, the indigenous man from Pernambuco.

Allies?

Not only indigenous groups worry about the PEC 215 bill. Organizations such as the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) have also expressed concern, since the amendment would also affect protected natural areas in the country. However, theirs contrasts with the position of several indigenous groups that have been affected by their politics. As an example, in 2011, the Maggi Group sold for the first time 85,000 tons of its "responsible soy," with the "green label" given by the WWF, through a program of "environmental certification" in collaboration with Bunge, Cargill, Monsanto, Nestlé, Syngenta, Unilever and other corporations that have been connected to the forcible removal of indigenous people from their lands in Brazil and various countries around the world.

Some political figures came to visit the indigenous encampment as supposed allies, such as ex-presidential candidate Marina Silva. She is an honorary member of the International Union for Nature Conservation (UICN) and a defender of the conservation policies promoted by the WWF and other nongovernmental organizations that promote national parks, natural protected areas, peace parks, cross-border parks, sanctuaries and green market policies such as carbon credits.

"There are many politicians who have come to talk with us, above all during election season, but all that we want is the demarcation of our territories," an indigenous Cayapo individual from the town of Xingu in Mato Grosso do Sul told Truthout. He argues that carbon credits are another way to remove them from their land. "We have seen the experiences of the Suruí people, who accepted the REDD and its carbon credits and conservation projects. They can no longer hunt, grow crops or use materials they need for celebrations and rituals," he said. "We know how to take care of nature because she is our mother and we don't want another carbon credit agreement, because it is just another way of removing us from our sacred lands."

At the encampment, indigenous Mundurukus denounce plans to build the biggest hydroelectric dam in Brazil on the Tapajós River, which would lead to the disappearance of the Munduruku people. The presence of armed forces has been the only signal of dialogue thus far. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F.)

Indian Day?

During the encampment, the indigenous leaders appeared in the House of Representatives and the Senate several times, not just to deliver their signed letter, but to express their discontent and their rage. The response was that PEC 215 will not be voted on, but neither will it be archived, which left the indigenous representatives unconvinced.

On the encampment's last day, April 16, Congress' doors were opened in a tribute to the indigenous representatives in honor of "Indian Day." Due to security issues, only 500 out of 700 in attendance were allowed entrance. The mayor did not attend the event.

Indigenous leader Marcos Xucuru expressed his anger and said that little should be expected of the government and political parties; what remains is the necessity of taking their land and assuming the consequences. "Our fight will continue and we are going to demarcate our lands ourselves. And if necessary, we will fight like the Tupinamba, who have confronted the federal police and the military and we will force them to leave our territory. As indigenous leaders, we are willing to give our lives for our Enchanted Ones - our ancestors - and for nature," Xucuru told Truthout.

Babau says that it is the government that will be held responsible if the genocide continues in his country. "We call upon all indigenous people all over the world, who are the only ones who understand us, to pay attention to what will happen. Because the government had the opportunity to negotiate with us, but the dialogue is drying up," he said. "We will offer our lives if necessary, but we will not let them take away our lands."

Published in ⇒ Truthout

Prison Privatization in Brazil Follows US Model

Por

Renata Bessi y Santiago Navarro F

25 April, 2015

Between 1992 and 2013, the prison population in Brazil increased by more than 400 percent, compared with a 36 percent population growth over the same period, according to the country's Ministry of Justice There are currently 711,463 prisoners incarcerated in the so-called penitentiary industry that prison rights groups argue is a commodification of human bodies.

"I was visiting a privatized female unit in the state of Espírito Santo, and entered the prison's pharmacy, and the director proudly told me that all the inmates were 100 percent medicated with psychotropic drugs for three months," said Jesus Filho, former member of the National Prison Clergy of Brazil. "That is population control. This was one of the most extreme cases of objectification of prisoners that I have thus far witnessed there."

A majority of the convictions are related to economic and drug trafficking crimes. "The [prison] population is mostly black, poor people who had no chance in life; or education, health, and decent housing - people who end up in criminal activity as a last resort," Fernanda Vieira, a lawyer from the Margarida Alves Collective, which offers accessible legal aid in the state of Minas Gerais, told Truthout.

According to the 8th Annual Brazilian Public Security Report, of the 574,207 prisoners, 307,715 are black. "At least 40 percent of prisoners still do not have a conviction and are waiting for someone to tell them whether they are guilty or not. Most are young," says Vieira. Likewise, data from the Brazil's National Penitentiary Department (Depen) has documented that the number of female prisoners increased from 10,112 in the year 2000 to 35,039 in 2012. This represents an increase of 246 percent over the period. Most of the women are serving sentences for prostitution and drug trafficking.

Rights groups affirm that this trend in increasing arrests shows little sign of slowing down, pointing to growing social inequalities. In 2012, the UN warned that the gap between rich and poor was growing in many countries in Latin America. The region is considered to be one of most unequal and urbanized of the world, where 80 percent of the population lives in cities, and more than a quarter of the population lives in conditions of poverty. Twenty percent of the richest population has an average per capita income nearly 20 times the income of the poorest 20 percent. The most unequal countries based on income distribution are, in this order, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Colombia, Brazil, Dominican Republic and Bolivia.

Justified Privatization

The conditions of Brazil's prisons system are often compared with the popularly conceived image of "Hell." In 2012, in response to questions on his position on the adoption of the death penalty, former president of Brazil, Fernando Enrique Cardoso, said, "If I had to serve many years in one of our prisons, I'd rather die."

Brazil currently ranks as the fourth-largest prison population in the world, coming after the United States (2.2 million), China (1.6 million) and Russia (740,000). Brazil has space for little more than half its prisoners. The National Penitentiary Information System (InfoPen) notes that there is a deficit in the prison system of 358,000 adequate spaces for prisoners, implying that each cell has more than double the occupation of its intended capacity. This is data that has been used as the main argument for the privatization of prisons. "The discourse of privatization in Brazil has gained credibility because state prisons are appalling, and health and education are catastrophic," said professor Marta Machado of the São Paulo Law School and Getulio Vargas Foundation.

From Prisons to Profitable Companies

Photo: Archive Pastoral carcerária Brasil

Masses of prisoners are an incentive that has aroused the interest of investors from the private security market. In 2009, the corporation Gestores Presiónales Asociados (GPA) won a concession through the public-private modality (PPP) to administer the first of these public-private penitentiary complexes, composed of five prison units, in Ribeirão das Neves, in the state of Minas Gerais. The company signed a 27-year contract, which may be renewed for another five years. GPA is a consortium made up of five companies, the majority being construction firms: CCI Construções S.A, Construtora Augusto Velloso S.A., Empresa Tejofran de Saneamento y Serviços, N.F. Motta Construções e Comércio y el Instituto Nacional de Administração Prisional - INAP.

In accordance with Article 1.134 of the Brazilian Civil Code, a foreign company needs authorization from the federal government to operate in Brazil through a branch. Therefore, it is difficult to identify transnational capital. "We are still not sure whether there is foreign capital in these complexes. But we can see that the individuals who formed the company in Minas Gerais are the same who were previously directors of public prisons; the corruption is very clear," said Fernanda Vieira, who also provides legal support to several prisoners in the Ribeirão das Neves complex.

In 2013, the first prison complex was opened in Ribeirão das Neves, as well as the Integrated Resocialization Center of Itaquitinga, in the state of Pernambuco. According to a 2014 research report called "The First Public-Private Partnership Prison Complex in Brazil," the PPP model represents an innovative form of cooperation between government and the private sector through concession contracts based on a determined period where construction, management and risk are shared. Therefore, the state pays the private consortium for the penitentiary service, while the operator has the opportunity to use the infrastructure and/or services in the pursuit of profitability.

US Influence

According to Professor Laurindo Dias Minhoto, of the Faculty of Arts and Humanities in the University of São Paulo, the privatization of prisons is a Brazilian model that shares certain elements of US private prisons, as well as the British model, which allows for private capital to finance public infrastructure. "The neoliberal project, especially the American style, seeks to turn all spheres of social life into a company, including the state itself, punctuated by an enterprising economic rationality," affirmed Dias Minhoto in a March 2015 debate called "Public-Private Partnership in Brazil's Prisons: Legal, Political and Ethical Implications."

Luís Fernando Massonetto,professor of economic law at São Paulo University, shares with Truthout that the PPP model follows the logic of neoliberal policies in the sense of furthering the accumulation and expansion of the reproduction of capital. "The neoliberal logic in the world has been the multiplying of opportunities of capital accumulation alongside the increased repressive rationality of the state and social control. Financial deregulation on the one side, and 'law and order' on the other."

In the document titled "Lessons Learned and Opportunities," the Executive Manager of the PPP Central Unit in Minas Gerais, Marcos Siqueira Morães, alleges, among other things, that the complex aims to increase the efficiency of operations in infrastructure. This includes long-term contracts, risk sharing, managerial and financial, as well as ensuring profitability.

At the IV Congress of public management (CONSAD), held in 2011, with the participation of Siqueira Moraes, another document called "Sharing Profits of PPPs" was presented. It states that, for the private sector to participate in the construction of these projects, financial engineering is required that allows investors to raise funds more cheaply. Market risks and demands are totally or partially mediated by the state. This process resulted in what is now called "New Public Management," which represents a scenario in which the state transfers the carrying out of certain policies to private capital, leaving in their hands the associated infrastructure.

Prisons in Company Mode

Jesus Filho does not doubt that the spaces in private prisons are cleaner and the food is much better than public units, but he expresses surprise with the flows of capital that this implies. "Privatization costs a lot. It costs 3,000 reales (US $940) per prisoner per month, and that is multiplied by 600,000 prisoners. How many millions is Brazil spending per month? It costs a lot," said Filho in the March PPP debate.

Meanwhile, the Brazilian Development Bank (BNDES), in a 2011 report called "Financing Infrastructure in Brazil: Prospects and Challenges," frames PPPs as part of its long-term financing. "There is no loss because the PPP complex is being covered by BNDES and there has been no problem in meeting the demand of having more prisoners: in a weekend alone in Minas Gerais, hundreds were detained in a festival," said Fernanda Vieira.

The main source of income for these prison complexes is from the state, with a higher cost than public prisons. However, the consortium GPA claims to have produced concrete results in the rehabilitation of the prisoners, with quality indicators that will be verified by the multinational firm Accenture. The firm has a presence in more than 56 countries, providing management consulting, technology services and outsourcing. According to "The First Public-Private Partnership Prison Complex in Brazil" research paper, the company's commitment is to evaluate performance indicators, payments made by the state to the consortium and to assist in resolving potential conflicts.

"The big market of today is the creation of security technologies, logistics and infrastructure, the crime control industry," says Dias Minhoto.

Sub-Minimum Wages

In the war of production costs, the main problem that rich countries and companies face are wages that cannot be reduced further, in contrast to labor struggles that seek to increase wages and better work conditions. One problem that is blurred with the privatization of prisons is that it may seem that the greater number of prisoners there are, the greater amount of cheap labor that is available. "It's a process of commodification because prisoners do not have the ability to defend their labor rights," said Fernanda Vieira.

Although this model of private prisons, called by US researcher and 1960s black liberation activist Angela Davis, the "Prison Industrial Complex," has as one of its main objectives cheaper production costs of goods. In Brazil, it is a process that is under construction. "At the moment, the only cash flow is through the state and outsourced technology and service companies. We cannot help but notice that the business lobby is not limited with the expansion of prison policies. There is growing pressure from the business lobby for the use of new technologies of social control and surveillance," says Fernando Massonetto.

Human Rights Violations

The new private prison complexes do not provide rehabilitation because they function under a logic of dehumanizing prisoners. "It's all very cold and isolated. Visitations are just as degrading as in public prisons. From the time a person goes to a private prison, where your life is worth $940 per month, you cease being a human and you become a commodity. That is a violation of human rights. As of now, there is no access to education, health or work and the state supposedly covers this," Fernanda Vieira told Truthout.

It is clear that this is "prison capital," says professor Massonetto, quantified in managerial spreadsheets and guaranteed by the state to reduce business risks. "Control of the body was present in the production of social surplus during the old forms of slavery to the commercial exploitation of the workforce. Violence on the body was gradually modified, ranging from the decision of life or death of the slave to the most modern techniques of labor subordination to capital. What contemporary capitalism cynically exposes is the control of bodies is an essential input for the reproduction of prison capital," said professor Massonetto.

Published in ⇒ Truthout

Fighting a Low-Intensity War, Indigenous Tupinamba Recover Their Land in Brazil

Por

Santiago Navarro F

20 April, 2015

The extreme south of the state of Bahia in northeastern Brazil is a region of intense conflict over indigenous lands. A judge asked Rosivaldo Ferreira da Silva, a leader from the indigenous Babau tribe, about the actions the Tupinamba are taking in order to recover their ancestral lands from the hands of rich landowners.

“You said that your Enchanted One – the spirit of the ancestors of the Tupinamba – ordered you to take back your lands and that you will not return them, even if that means you have to die in a confrontation with the police,” the judge said. Da Silva responded: “Exactly.”

The judge, trying to change the idea that he had proposed, said, “But we can propose something that can mediate this situation. We can offer a basket of basic goods to families, something that they can live off of.”

Da Silva, indignant, responded, “We the Tupinamba, this is how we are, judge. If food is lacking in our homes, we will eat wild plants; we will eat what the land gives us; we are not going to ask for anything from anyone. Because then we would be allowing others to govern our lives.”

The Tupinamba were the first indigenous people to form a front against the Portuguese invasion in 1500 in Brazil. They are a great warrior people whose organizational structure uses tactics and strategies of war based on their worldview. In 2004, they started a process to recover their lands.

“Our goal was to stop deforestation. All the rivers would return to their natural pathways; nature would be laughing with happiness.”

The government body, the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), recognized in its studies that the Tupinamba possess over 47,000 hectares of land, but the government still hasn’t authorized the demarcation of this territory. This is in violation of Article 169 of the International Labor Organization, which establishes their right to “the consultation and participation of indigenous peoples and tribes to decide their own priorities for the process of development as it affects their lives, beliefs, institutions and spiritual well-being and the lands they occupy or otherwise use, and to exercise control over their economic, social and cultural development, including the right to land and the use of natural resources found in their traditional lands.”

Even after having received only silence as a response from the government, the indigenous Tupinamba have recovered a good part of their land. They are one of the few indigenous groups in Brazil that has dared to self-demarcate their borders and occupy them at the same time. They reclaimed huge properties that were in the hands of landowners; they took over fresh water springs; they took over abandoned houses. In the community of Serra do Padeiro alone, close to 70 properties were taken over.

“We drove out the landowners who were deforesting and who did not need the land to live on because they have houses elsewhere. And the people that need a place to live, the small producers, will stay with us,” da Silva told Truthout. “Our goal was to stop deforestation; our motto is zero deforestation. All the rivers would return to their natural pathways; nature would be laughing with happiness; the animals would come back,” he added.

The reaction to all of this quickly became systematic and relentless. In 2008, police made their first large-scale attack in Serra do Padeiro. They invaded the Tupinamba territory with two helicopters, 130 agents and heavy vehicles. They said that they wanted to stop da Silva, but they didn’t have an arrest warrant. “It was a day of war. For an entire day, they had fun with us and we with them,” joked da Silva. “The fight for the Tupinamba is not an affront; we are children of war. The thing is that they want a war, but with a group that doesn’t know how to fight; they want us to sit back and cross our arms.”

Brazil’s Defense Ministry published a manual that encourages the use of military force to guarantee “public security.”

“They believed that we were going to flee, but this didn’t happen. When they came in and began to attack, our answer was to use slingshots and stones and we used the strategy of isolating them. The Enchanted Ones prohibited us from using bows and arrows; they said that these people aren’t ready for war with the Tupinamba, and in addition it isn’t in our best interest to cause a single casualty. They came onto our land without asking permission and afterward they couldn’t leave. And when the final day came, they were desperate and called for reinforcements, and only then were they able to remove the barricades that we put up in the roads.”

There’s interest in Tupinamba land from large-scale landowners and producers, such as the owners of the luxury tourist complexes that have been built in this territory, like the Hotel Fazenda da Lagao, with investors such as Arthur Bahia and Arminio Fraga. Fraga is a naturalized US citizen and former president of the Brazilian Central Bank. He is also an ex-member of the World Bank, and affirms that there are no indigenous people in the region, and that there are only opportunists who want to steal the land from the rightful owners.

Meanwhile, in President Dilma Rousseff’s new term, she has chosen to fill top positions with figures like businesswoman, rancher and senator, Katia Abreu, who is currently the head of the Ministry of Agriculture. Abreu is one of the main defenders of the coalition in Brazil’s Congress that is defending national and multinational agribusinesses in Brazil, which maintain a strong offensive against indigenous towns.

The FUNAI recognized the presence of no less than 4,700 Tupinamba people, concentrated in at least 23 communities, between the mountains and the coast of the state of Bahia – an area that extends from the Serra do Padeiro to the coast of Olivença and is immersed in the tropical jungle of the Mata Atlântica. The communities are distributed across two regions: the forest Tupinamba and those of the coast, and each town has its own leader.

Militarization of the Tupinamba Territory

In mid-February 2014, at the request of Jaques Wagner, then-governor of the state of Bahia and currently Brazil’s defense minister, the president signed an authorization from the federal government so that the army could enter into the territory of the Tupinamba in southern Bahia. Federal authorities were given permission to finish their incursion in one month, but it still continues today.

A month before, in January 2014, agents from the National Public Security Forces and the Federal Police built a base in the town of Serra do Padeiro. From that moment, the indigenous people have been constantly monitored and some of the land has been violently reintegrated into the territory belonging to big landholders.

“It is a strategy, because the landowners in the region want to kill me, along with the military”

These measures were taken after the Brazilian Ministry of Defense published a manual titled “How to guarantee law and order,” on December 20, 2013. It is a manual that encourages the use of military force in order to guarantee “public security.” It also enumerates the ways in which enemies are categorized, beginning with individuals and groups to organizations and social movements that are considered “oppositional forces,” emphasizing those that act in violation of “public order or security.”

Haroldo Heleno, from the Indigenous Missionary Council (CIMI), in the state of Bahia, tells Truthout that the indigenous Tupinamba, in the process of self-demarcating and taking back their land, have suffered a constant campaign of criminalization. They have been written off as criminals, as invaders and as homeless. CIMI reported that the 2008 attack by the Federal Police in the town of Serra do Padeiro included more than 130 agents, two helicopters and 30 patrol cars. Twenty-two indigenous people were wounded by rubber bullets and gas bombs, and houses, community vehicles, food and school equipment were destroyed.

War Fire

A low fire burns inside a tree trunk until it turns to ash; it’s a fire that should be burning at all times, even on rainy days. It is the light of the Tupinamba ancestors; it is the center of the town; it is there where the ancestors made the most important decisions in the community, like when to go to war. Fernanda Barbosa Silva, who teaches the Tupinamba language to both indigenous and non-indigenous children in the community of Serra do Padeiro, told Truthout, “Here is where we have our planting ceremonies. Here we ask our Enchanted Ones to illuminate our paths. It is the fire of the Tupinamba people, our spiritual sustenance.”

The concept of war in the West is different than that of indigenous people. In Western war, the objective is to repress or destroy the enemy, and, in doing so, stop everything that stands in the way of private property. “Collective land ownership is the womb of crime and of the insurgency and because of that we must destroy it. There is no peace without private property,” says Geoffrey B. Demarest. Demarest is a researcher, former military member and graduate of the School of the Americas, which is administered by the US military, and was founded in 1946 in Panama with the objective of training Latin American soldiers in war and counterinsurgency techniques.

Serra do Padeiro is completely self-sufficient. It produces its own food in a system similar to agroecology.

Currently, Demarest is an ideologue and intellectual who is part of the so-called Bowman Expeditions, which are advancing across Central and South America and other countries where collective property ownership exists. The principal military objectives are to reach indigenous towns, in order to incorporate their territories into the model of private property, either through force or agreements.

For “us,” da Silva told Truthout, “this war is for life, in order to take care of our Enchanted Ones, which is to say, our ancestors that inhabit the forest and the mountains, who also take care of us and protect us. We, the Tupinamba, are not allowed to kill anyone; we are not interested in that.”

Low-intensity warfare, or irregular warfare, according to US military doctrine, says, “instead of formal military conflict, we are witnessing a series of ‘irregular’ wars: terrorism, guerrilla insurgencies, resistance movements, asymmetrical insurgencies and conflicts in general, which must be attacked with all means necessary.”

The indigenous Zapatista movement in Mexico calls it a war of “comprehensive fatigue,” a war strategy that uses paramilitary units, paid mercenaries and public political programs in order to contain or reduce the support of the social bases for resistance movements that have been labeled as terrorists or insurgents.

Persecution

After an arrest warrant was issued by a judge in February 2014 in southern Bahia, the indigenous Babau leader decided to turn himself in. After doing so, da Silva argued that the Tupinamba do not run away. According to the arrest warrant, he was accused of having ordered the murder of a farmer in the region. “It is a strategy, because the landowners in the region want to kill me, along with the military,” he said. Five days after turning himself in, after a preliminary decision by Brazil’s Supreme Court, he was freed.

In 2009, the arrest of one of da Silva’s brothers was registered, along with five other indigenous individuals who were also tortured by the Federal Police. And that was how in the successive years, until 2014, da Silva was arrested for a variety of crimes that his accusers have never been able to prove.

Attacks on Autonomy

“We and nature are one; we are one with our ancestry,” da Silva told Truthout. “Here you will not find a woman abused by her partner, children abused by their parents; you will not find people marrying one another for fun. If we want to have an animal close to us, we put food in the door of the house, and it will come to eat close to us.”

Serra do Padeiro is completely self-sufficient. It produces its own food in a system similar to agroecology, and the excesses are sold.

“The police started to make incursions into our towns in the planting season. The objective was to ruin our harvest.”

“In order to know when to plant, we observe the moon, the time of the rains, if the wind from the east is going to pass through our crops. Do you know how to recognize the wind from the east? Look there, you are looking at that tree, the one with the dry leaf tips. The wind from the east passes there. It is a sorrowful wind that brings sickness to plants and people; it is strong; it is powerful. So you must recognize the paths where this wind blows and stay away from it. You cannot stay in the path of that which does not want to be interrupted, so that is why we pay a lot of attention,” da Silva said.

The Tupinamba have celebrations all year long; their land is very productive. They grow cacao, coffee, bananas, manioc and a large variety of fruits and vegetables. Every time a party is held, there is food in abundance and everyone is invited to participate. It is striking how, despite the constant closeness of danger, they continue to smile.

“We export cacao, but we do not worry about producing in order to sell. First we eat, we are happy, and that is our concern. And what is left over we sell in order to buy the extra things that we need,” Maria da Gloria de Jesus told Truthout. She is 50 years old and planted 40,000 pineapple plants by herself. She also received the impact of a rubber bullet in the chest by the Federal Police in one of their offenses in the territory. “Agroecology is nothing more than indigenous knowledge, a circular understanding, that has a relationship with the animals of the forest, the birds, even the smallest of insects,” de Jesus said.

The food sovereignty of the Tupinamba was put at risk in 2007, after a series of attempts to try and undermine the sustainability the indigenous people had attained. “We perceived that the police started to make incursions into our towns in the planting season, between the months of May and August. We live off of what we plant, so the objective was to ruin our harvest,” da Silva said. “But they were not able to affect us.”

Historical Context of the Tupinamba

According to the document created in 2006 by the Ministry of Education and UNESCO, the ethnologist Curt Nimuendaju demonstrated in his ethnohistorical map the existence of more than 1,400 indigenous groups in “discovered” territories in Brazil since 1500. They were peoples with huge linguistic diversity: Tupi-Guarani, Ge, Carib, Arawak, Xiriana and Tucan, to name a few. They also had a great geographical diversity and diverse forms of social organization. Julian Steward, in the book Handbook of South American Indians, calculated that more than 1.5 million indigenous people lived in Brazil; and William Denevan projected the existence of almost 5 million indigenous people in the Amazon alone.

Following the data gathered by the Education Ministry’s document, the Tupinamba people were present across the state of Bahia, the lower Amazon in the northeast coast, almost to the state of Sao Paulo. The most significant loss of life suffered by indigenous people resulted from the war of suppression and destruction that drove out thousands of indigenous people, according to the document, but above all, was due to the introduction of illnesses such as smallpox, measles and tuberculosis, which quickly decimated entire peoples. This was described in the writings of the Jesuit priest Jose de Anchieta, who was present for part of the historical context during the 1500s.

We Are All Tupinamba

According to the accounts of Maria da Gloria, mother of the chief indigenous Babau Tupinamba, during the Portuguese colonization, the indigenous people welcomed slaves who had fled from plantations or sugar factories. “That explains why some Tupinamba towns are mixed to this day; all of us are Tupinamba. We have our knowledge that is alive, our customs and our traditions. It is a different form of life than that of the white people. But the government uses this to say that the Tupinamba people are in extinction. We say that no! We are alive; these are the lands of our ancestors and they are priceless,” he said.

Chaos

“Our Enchanted Ones tell us about what is going to happen in the world and what we have to do to protect ourselves. If we have to go to war, it will be to the end. We want to guarantee our lands as quickly as possible because the world is going to enter into a period of total chaos,” da Silva said. “In the future, the indigenous lands will be the only places where one can go to interact with nature. So we are not going to wait for the demarcation of the state: These are our ancestral lands and we are the only ones that know them, because we belong to the Tupinamba land.”

Protests in Brazil and Their Repression

Por

Renata Bessi y Santiago Navarro F

28 February, 2015

Trained according to US military doctrine, Brazil's military police, an inheritance from the dictatorships of the 1960s, have been intensely repressing protesters in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. Since the beginning of this year, the principal streets of São Paulo, one of the biggest cities in the world, have been taken over by hundreds of protesters demanding a return to zero-cost public transportation. This action was taken due to a 17 percent rise in the cost of fares.

In the middle of 2013, thousands of protesters took to the streets after the first price hike of 20 cents (in Brazilian reals), protesting both the hike and the poor quality of public transportation. During that same time, the issue of excessive government expenditures prior to the 2014 World Cup and the Olympic Games planned for 2016 was emerging.

During 2014 Christmas festivities, the government of São Paulo announced an increase in the cost of public transportation from 3 to 3.5 Brazilian reals. The same thing happened in 17 of the 27 state capitals of Brazil, with hikes ranging from 2.7 to 20.9 percent.

"Things are looking more and more like they did during the dictatorship. Civil and military police are an inheritance of the dictatorship. Some of them received training from the mercenary company called Academi and SWAT-Dallas."

In São Paulo, the hike was accompanied by a benefit package of 48 types of free passes for low-income students. It was a demobilization strategy, according to Mario Constantino, a member of the group Anti-Capitalist Youth, because the passes were made available to a small percentage of youth only. "The government thought that with the end of the year festivities, people wouldn't mobilize. At the same time, it made a type of monthly free pass available to low-income students, but this didn't respond to the movement's central demand which is the right of access to the city and to be able to move freely," he told Truthout.

During January 2015, there have been at least six large protests. In the first protest, more than 30,000 people gathered and the government acted rapidly and with excessive violence to break it up. "They have a historical fear. The protests that we did in 2013 and 2014 were massive . . . and they are afraid that this could grow," Marcela Fleury, a member of the Free Territory Movement, told Truthout.

Another member of the Free Pass Movement (MPL), who only identified herself as Patricia, told Truthout that movement is a right, and thus, transportation should be free. "Traveling around São Paulo is very expensive compared to people's incomes. Here, only those who can pay for transportation have access to the city. One can only live here if one can pay for rent and food. It is an exclusive city. Transportation should be free because it is a right to have access to free movement."

Human Rights Violations

In the majority of the protests, the modus operandi of the military police has been to break them up as quickly as possible, which has led to a series of human rights violations against protesters. There have been arrests and people wounded by rubber-coated bullets and gas canisters that are shot directly at the bodies of protesters. "The government continues to criminalize social protest, and this is a violation of the universal right to protest. They don't want people in the streets. They are afraid because these protests are challenging the power and privileges of an economic elite that has been created in Brazil," Eloisa Samy told Truthout. Samy is a lawyer in Rio de Janeiro, and was detained along with 22 other protesters in 2014 during the World Cup. She was accused of belonging to an armed group, and resorted to requesting political asylum in Uruguay. Currently, Samy's case is being tried in Brazilian courts, together with those of other protesters accused of the same crime.

US Military Doctrine

"Things are looking more and more like they did during the dictatorship. Civil and military police are an inheritance of the dictatorship. Some of them received training from the mercenary company called Academi and SWAT-Dallas," Samy said.

Prior to the events of the 2014 World Cup, at least 22 military and federal police were trained by the US company Academi - previously Blackwater - to contain acts of "terrorism." This term alludes to the US concept of security in its "war on terror," where the enemy is found within the citizen population, and must be attacked using all possible means, according to the counterinsurgency manual of the United States (FM-3-24, MCWP-3-33.5). "The concepts of the 'enemy' and of 'terrorism' are the base of a type of security with a large ideological component, according to US military doctrine. It is a logic of commercialization, of privatization and outsourcing of security and, thus, of violence," researcher Esther Solano Gallego told Truthout.

"We are living in a time of extreme exclusion and the bourgeoisie is afraid that the people will take to the streets."

Academi is considered the biggest private army in the world. Since its inception - just after 9/11 under the Blackwater name - it obtained private security contracts with the administration of George W. Bush, for a total of more than $1 billion, according to Jeremy Scahill in his book Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army. Two years after its creation, the company, responsible for the deaths of 17 civilians in Iraq, changed its name to Xe Services in an effort to clean up its reputation. In 2010, when it was sold to a group of private investors, it changed its name again, this time to Academi.

Another specific case is that of the state of Espirito Santo and Marcos Do Val, an ex-military member of the 38th Battalion of the Brazilian Infantry. He received training from Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) forces in the United States and was one of the strategists who coordinated the repression of protesters in 2014. "In Espirito Santo, he is a well-known figure. He participated in the [crackdown against] protests in 2014. It is known that he has close ties to the state and to security groups in the United States. He brings military and police personnel here to give trainings in our country," Joao Lyrio, who was present for and documented the protests in Espirito Santo, told Truthout.

Do Val doesn't just have ties with SWAT, says the Brazilian writer Ana Ligia Lira, who recently published a book titled A Brazilian in the SWAT, which is based on Do Val's career. He also worked in the United States, China, France, Italy, Portugal and Brazil with entities including NASA, the FBI, the Navy SEALS and the Vatican.

It should be mentioned that the training of SWAT teams is done in order to carry out high-risk operations that are outside of the capacity of regular officials, such as the rescue of hostages, fighting against terrorism and operations against heavily armed criminal groups. Do Val has converted private security into big business, and now gives courses to military police from various countries, through the private company that he founded, Police Training International Inc. (CATI), which is considered the first and only multinational police training business in the world. He also gives courses to wealthy Brazilian businessmen, and has given courses together with members of the Rio de Janeiro Police Battalion of Special Operations and Tactics, a division of the military police in São Paulo.

"What we are living in Brazil, and more specifically in the city of São Paulo, is that the Brazilian elite are taking away the societal right to health care, to education and to public transportation, with tendencies toward privatization."

"It is members of the military who are in the streets and they are trained to kill, trained for war. They don't know how to deal with peaceful disturbances and their superiors who are giving the orders are directly responsible. Being black or poor here is synonymous with being dangerous, with crime. And now those who protest in the streets have reached the level of terrorist," Samy said.

The protests have also been accompanied by an endless stream of music groups, which do not consider themselves terrorists. "There are no terrorists here; I am not a terrorist. I am fighting and my weapon is my music," musician Fernando Iza told Truthout.

According to Fleury, the police look to create a context of fear and terror so that people will stop going to the demonstrations, because a crisis situation is beginning to develop, and the government doesn't have the ability to respond. "Right now, there is a water crisis in São Paulo and unemployment is rising. To this, we add the rise in the cost of transportation, and that's why we are taking to the streets."

Extreme Right-Wing Politicians in a Leftist Government

The discontent of the protesters is directed at both the local and federal governments. According to Samy, the government of Dilma Rousseff is defending the interests of the economic groups that control Brazil. She also said that today one can't even speak of a progressive government; she thinks that the Brazilian people have lost faith in the institutions, in the Worker's Party and in the other political parties, just as they've lost faith in the government itself. "We are living in a time of extreme exclusion and the bourgeoisie is afraid that the people will take to the streets. Justification is provided for police and repression, but nothing is being said about the crisis that is being lived in the country. The people of Latin America should know that a left-wing government does not exist here," she said.

The controversial changes to the political structure made by Brazil's president have not only provoked discontent in different social sectors in the country, but among a good part of the people who gave her their vote as well. The first signs of structural changes came with the naming of ministers - done in the first month of Rousseff's second presidential term - who historically have represented more conservative sectors of Brazilian society.

For example, the position of treasury minister will be filled by Joaquim Levy, the former director of Bradesco Asset Management, the investment bank of the Bradesco organization. Known as a "Chicago boy" for receiving his education at the University of Chicago, he was the director of the Federal Reserve in Brazil and formerly worked for the International Monetary Fund (IMF). His position in defense of neoliberal policies, in alignment with the theories of Milton Friedman and George Stigler, are evident in his interviews and opinion articles.

Katia Abreu - a businesswoman, rancher and senator who is one of the primary defenders of extreme right positions in the National Congress - was named to head the Ministry of Agriculture. And the minister of cities will be Gilberto Kassab, the ex-prefect of São Paulo, harshly criticized by popular urban movements during his two terms between 2006 and 2012, for promoting billion-dollar projects that led to the displacement of thousands of families.

According to Mario Constantino, the government was elected as if it was left-wing, but it continues with neoliberal policies. "They promised a series of things, but the worst is that the ministry is made up of people well-known by the Brazilian people to be extremely right-wing and it will be disastrous. We are seeing that the same political economy of the right-wing governments is being implemented now," Constantino said.

The Protests Will Continue

The indignation of the protesters is increasing, and mobilizations threaten to gain strength. "What we are living in Brazil, and more specifically in the city of São Paulo, is that the Brazilian elite are taking away the societal right to health care, to education and to public transportation, with tendencies toward privatization," said Patricia from the Free Pass Movement.

According to Heudes Cassio, also of the Free Pass Movement, the movement for cost-free transportation has not negotiated with the federal government and it doesn't plan to. "The Free Pass Movement does not have dialogue with the government; our conversations are in the streets. Our demand is clear, against the fare and against the rate hikes," Cassio told Truthout.

"We are here to bring down the fare, and we are looking to get everyone involved, because this is just the beginning. Our purchasing power has fallen; now we can't buy more than what we could before - and it costs us much more to pay our rent," Marcela Fleury said.

Fleury said that they will not be co-opted by the government, as other movements have been neutralized through negotiations. To the contrary, she argues that the slogan is clear: "No fares!" "If we don't receive a clear response, the movement could radicalize. The refrain of the Free Territory Movement is the construction of popular power," she added.

It is February, and three protests have taken place on the outskirts of the great São Paulo metropolis, along with another mega-demonstration. All were accompanied by the Tactical Forces of the Military Police, as well as by personnel trained during the World Cup, called the Battalion for Large Events, better known as "Robocops."

Published in ⇒ Truthout

Green Neocolonialism, Afro-Brazilian Rebellion in Brazil

Por

Renata Bessi y Santiago Navarro F

1 January, 2015

The Afro-Brazilian Quilombola people were forced from their land in Brazil in order to make way for eucalyptus plantations, which produce toilet paper destined for Western markets. But they are resisting by replanting native trees and food crops, and working for a post-eucalyptus reality.

The principal use for the cellulose found in eucalyptus plants in Brazil is disposable paper products, such as toilet paper and paper towels - products most in demand in first-world markets. Yet these types of paper products generate social and environmental impacts in places in Brazil where many communities have never even had access to them.

The region known as Sape do Norte, which includes the cities of Sao Mateus and Conceicao da Barra, in the state of Espirito Santo, in Brazil, has been heavily affected by eucalyptus plantations. In Sao Mateus, for example, the plantations occupy 70 percent of the territory. From Vitoria, the capital of Espirito Santo, to Sao Mateus, a stretch of close to 300 kilometers in length is covered by eucalyptus trees. In some places, small remnants of the native forest and its biodiversity can be seen, but only for a few hectares, quickly passed by in a car.

"There were monoculture plantations in unlikely places, near springs and in zones where aquifers are replenished. The forests along the riverbank were cut down; the path of the water was cut off; lakes were filled in with dirt - and the biodiversity of the Atlantic forests was decimated with insecticides and herbicides."

This area is also a symbol of Afro-Brazilian resistance; it is the land of the Quilombolas. The name Quilombola comes from the Kimbundu language, one of the Bantu languages widely spoken in Angola. Places where rebel or fugitive slaves lived were called quilombo - in hidden corners of the city or out in the countryside. From there the word Quilombola is derived, used in Brazil to describe a rebellious person of African descent.

"Quilombola is a specific type of person of African descent. They were brought from Africa during colonial times like the others, but they refused to submit to slavery and represented Black resistance. They built communities, called quilombos, fleeing from slavery in Brazil, living in isolated communities made up of 20 or 30 families, where they lived autonomously. Their descendants stayed in those in these places," Marcelo Calazans told Truthout. He works with the Federation of Organizations for Social and Educational Assistance (FASE), an organization that has worked for 30 years on issues related to the impacts of eucalyptus cultivation in the state of Espirito Santo.

In Sao Mateus, there was a port where people recently brought from Africa were bought and sold. Many of them fled the ships before they reached the docks. They escaped and sought refuge in the forests.

Slaves were emancipated in 1888, but emancipation was not accompanied by measures that would have permitted Afro-Brazilian communities to continue living in rural zones. A century later, these communities were legally recognized in the 1988 constitution, although it did not guarantee the preservation of the quilombo territories. With or without official recognition, a large number of these communities survived in rural areas, as evidenced by the communities of Sape do Norte.

The machine that cuts down the eucalyptus trees. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F)

It is a forest without flowers, without smells, without animals; not a single bird flies through this place.

In the 1960s, with the arrival of the eucalyptus cellulose extraction industry, the Quilombolas suffered a new blow and families were forced to abandon their land, some moving to the big cities in search of survival, where they ended up in the huge favelas, or slums. It is estimated that before the arrival of eucalyptus, there were around 15,000 Quilombola families. Today that number has dropped to 1,200 families who reorganized themselves into 32 communities in Sape do Norte. These Quilombola descendants are dispersed in communities isolated from one another by eucalyptus plantations, living under the pressure of the cellulose industry and its effects.

"There were monoculture plantations in unlikely places, near springs and in zones where aquifers are replenished. The forests along the riverbank were cut down; the path of the water was cut off; lakes were filled in with dirt - and the biodiversity of the Atlantic forests was decimated with insecticides and herbicides. This in turn made agricultural cultivation impossible, unless pesticides were used," according to Simone Batista Ferreira, a researcher with the geography department of the Federal University of Espirito Santo.

A Global Leader in Cellulose Extraction

The company Aracruz Celulose arrived in Espirito Santo in the 1960s. It was initially made up of shareholders such as Souza Cruz (a subsidiary of British American Tobacco), the Lorentzen family Group - which is connected to Norwegian royalty - and the Safra Group, with each having 28 percent ownership. The Brazilian state was a partner through its purchase of stock through the National Economic Development Bank (BNDE) - now referred to as the BNDES - for a share later reduced to 12 percent. In 2009, Aracruz Celulose changed its name and Fibria Celulose was born, the result of the merger of Aracruz Celulose and Votorantim Celulose and Paper (VCP). Today, Fibria is considered a global leader in the production of eucalyptus cellulose. It is the only company in the global forestry industry that is listed on the Dow Jones index and traded on the New York Stock Exchange.

Lifeless Forests

It is a forest without flowers, without smells, without animals; not a single bird flies through this place - a dubious forest, of a uniform green color, full of emaciated trees with thin, tall trunks that look like shaky pillars. In Ecuador, eucalyptus plantations are known as silent forests because there are no birds. In Chile, they are called military forests because, aside from their green characteristic military-uniform hue, the trees are planted in rigid lines. In Brazil, they are called "green deserts" because they contain no life.

Brazil is the fourth largest producer of cellulose worldwide, after Canada, the United States and China. According to the 2014 report on the Brazilian Tree and Forest Industry (IBA), with statistics from 2013, the area where forests were cultivated in Brazil reached 7.6 million hectares in 2013. Eucalyptus represents 72 percent of the total, with a total area of just under 5.5 million hectares. In 2013, 15.1 million tons of cellulose and 10.4 million tons of paper were produced. The industry's objective is to reach production levels of 22 million tons of cellulose in Brazil by the year 2020.

Paper factory in the city of Aracruz. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F)

International Demand

According to economist Helder Gomes, a member of the Alert Against the Green Desert Network, in the 1960s, international markets were under pressure due to increased demand for pulp and paper and the difficulty of widening production in countries where eucalyptus had traditionally been produced. "In the 1960s, studies done by the FAO [UN Food and Agriculture Organization] indicated the difficulty of expanding production in producing countries, due to the availability of land in central countries, the long period of maturation and the pressure from social movements against the rise in contaminating emissions and against the expansion of monocultures," Gomes told Truthout.

This forced international bodies, such as the FAO itself, Gomes said, to begin subsidizing the expansion of forestry programs in countries like Brazil, where there were favorable ecological conditions for the rapid growth of forests, available land, an abundance of cheap labor, and government policies that would benefit and support the industry.

A quilombola house in a reclaimed area. There were eucalpytus plantations here for over 49 years. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F)

Destruction

Aracruz Celulose is directly responsible for the destruction of at least 43,000 hectares of tropical rainforest in the municipality of Aracruz. It is a municipality that, in addition to the plantations, is home to three of the primary factories that process tree cellulose.

"Of the 40 indigenous communities that existed during the first years of this industry, only six remained."

This destruction was documented in an environmental impact evaluation report completed by the Technological Institute of the Espirito Santo State University in 1988, which was required in order for the company to obtain the permits for its first production expansion. According to the report, "through aerial photograph analysis obtained at the start of the 1970s, it was found that 30 percent of the surface of Aracruz was covered by native forests, which were then substituted for homogeneous eucalyptus trees."

Aracruz did not only destroy the forest, but also forced the communities that lived there to leave. "Of the 40 indigenous communities that existed during the first years of this industry, only six remained," said Sebastiao Ribeiro Filho, a lawyer and member of the Alert Against the Green Desert Network.

Toxic Bleach

The chain of production of cellulose, beyond creating homogeneous landscapes, also produces noxious smells. While walking through the city of Aracruz, the air is suddenly filled with an acidic stench. "It's bleach!" said FASE's Calazans, who tells us why it smells like it does. "In order to bleach the paper, millions of liters of chemicals are required, among them hydrogen peroxide and bleach, which are prohibited in many countries. There is no strict regulation of their use. Afterward, the waste goes directly to the sea."

"The World Trade Organization, the World Bank and governments that promote this system, which only a few multinational corporations benefit from, are causing an economic genocide and destroying traditional agriculture, and this means the destruction of entire towns and communities."

According to Luiz Alberto Loureiro, a former employee of Aracruz Celulose, the plantations are constantly attacked by pests and other plant species that have to be combated using chemicals such as Glifosato or Mirex. The insecticide is prohibited in all its formulations and uses because it is harmful to human health and to the environment. "The workers die of poisoning and from accidents, and they don't talk about this," Loureiro said. "Employees don't receive training regarding [the risk of] poisoning and many times they bring their work clothes home and wash them with their children's clothes."

Employment Promises

According to Sebastiao Pinheiro, agronomist and professor at the Rio Grande do Sul University, eucalyptus plantations do not generate employment; they actually destroy the source of employment for thousands of families. "The green deserts do not create jobs. Four hundred hectares of eucalyptus would be required to create one job. In family or small-scale agriculture, 10 people are required for one hectare. The World Trade Organization, the World Bank and governments that promote this system, which only a few multinational corporations benefit from, are causing an economic genocide and destroying traditional agriculture, and this means the destruction of entire towns and communities," Pinheiro told Truthout.

Fibria Celulose company. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F)

Memory of Destruction

"I remember the Atlantic forests. We lived off of agriculture in the countryside, and from hunting. I also remember when the company arrived. The devastation was not tree by tree; it was done using giant chains 100 meters long pulled by tractors, destroying everything in its path. Each link in the chain must have weighed 100 kilograms. There were trees with huge diameters that couldn't withstand the chains," John Ramos de Souza said. He is Quilombola and from the Angelim 1 community. "I saw many monstrous things done by the company. I saw without understanding, without knowing what the consequences would be, and now we are paying the price."

The National Public Ministry, in November 2014, suspended one of the credit lines of Fibria as a cautionary measure. It was the one from the federal government's National Economic and Social Development Bank that went to the Quilombola zone in northern Espirito Santo.

Fibria is being accused of fraud for the way it obtained land for its plantations. According to the lawsuit, at the beginning of 1970, former employees of the company claimed to be small-scale farmers before the state government in Espirito Santo, with the goal of obtaining titles for the "unused" land. Afterward, the employees transferred these property titles for land located between Conceicao da Barra and Sao Mateus, to Fibria. In the majority of cases, the period in which the areas remained legal property of the employees didn't last even a week before they were transferred.

Eucalyptus trees harvested in one day. (Photo: Santiago Navarro F)

Quilombolas Resist Eucalyptus

ARUE Ticumbi. ARUE Ticumbi.
What did the people do wrong?
What did the people do that was so wrong?

These questions are part of a song that was sung by African descendants during the time of slavery and that the Quilombolas of Barra da Conceicao maintain as a tradition in a ritual called Ticumbi. In the song, they ask Saint Benito the causes of all the loss they have suffered: the loss of their land, the forests and the water resources.

Today, the song seems to gain another dimension in Ticumbi master Souza's voice: one of resistance. The culture of his ancestors serves as a point of strength in order to resist new forms of slavery, this time due to the neocolonialism of eucalyptus. "We are communities cut off by eucalyptus and we are here resisting," Souza said.

He tells the story of his father, who, in the 1960s and '70s was forced off his land twice, which is where he obtained subsistence for his family. "The people who claimed to be the owners of the land showed up and pressured us to leave. At that time we were afraid and we left. It was more difficult to confront. And that was how the land was transferred to the company [Aracruz]," he said.

"We have no time to lose. Our path against eucalyptus means returning to the land that belonged to our ancestors and continuing to grow food."

Resistance is no longer sufficient, according to Vando Falcao Souza, John Ramos da Souza's son. Advancing is crucial. "We have no time to lose. Our path against eucalyptus means returning to the land that belonged to our ancestors and continuing to grow food," he tells Truthout.

Angelim 1 is a place of land recovery for the Quilombola families. After the clear-cutting of trees by the company, families returned to the area and began a process of soil regeneration. "After 40 years of planting eucalyptus in the same place, a transition process is necessary. The soil is very dry; it rains and the water disappears. Many said that we wouldn't be able to plant anything, but we are seeing that with patience and a lot of work it is possible. In five years I think we will be able to make it so that the soil is how it was before the eucalyptus were planted," said Falcao.

New plants have already started to flower, and they call them the transition to a post-eucalyptus time. Generally, the transition is started with plants such as watermelon, yucca, pumpkin and beans. "Corn and coffee still won't grow. We are already growing various species of beans and we are starting to sell them in small markets in the community. The goal is to form a sort of cooperative here," he said.

Leaving the Senzalas

A few kilometers from Angelim 1, land recuperation is also taking place in Linharinho. There, the transition effort is to plant according to an agroecological model in order to recuperate the soil, which means planting food crops along with native forest species. "After clearing the land of eucalyptus, the technique is to plant trees from a native forest that are brought from other places, and around these trees, other crops such beans and pumpkins are planted. This is how we are going to rebuild the forest and the harvest at the same time. The process is slow, it will require even six or seven years for the wild animals to return again and for the water resources to recover," Antonio Rodrigues de Oliveira, who is Quilombola, told Truthout.

"What we are doing here is what our ancestors did. They fled from conditions of slavery and created conditions for life in isolated places. They opened clearings and produced from the earth."

Rodrigues says that he arrived in this place with few resources, with only his head held high, his hands, and the necessary courage. "We can't expect anything from the government, or from the corporations, or from anyone. We have to take up the hoe, go into the land, build a hut, dig a well . . . carry water, even push with a donkey if necessary. Never again will we die of hunger . . . no, no, we will not die. We will go slowly because we don't have infrastructure, but we will do it," he said.

He also says that the situation is difficult and he remembers that the company arrived to plant eucalyptus even in the cemetery where his grandparents were buried. "They left us with almost nothing, just some adapted rodents, wild pigs and armadillos living as we lived, migrating and searching for what was necessary to survive." He believes, however, that there is no time to complain; it is time to work hard and rebuild what has been destroyed.

He doesn't hesitate to compare the situation in his community to that of his ancestors. "What we are doing here is what our ancestors did. They fled from conditions of slavery, known as Senzala [the place where slaves were held as prisoners on huge plantations] and created conditions for life in isolated places. They opened clearings and produced from the earth. Here is a Quilombo, the place of liberation," said Rodrigues, who has worked on various plantations and at one point migrated to the city.

Culture of Transition

Within the cellulose industry complex, the number of eucalyptus trees that are harvested every day establishes the rhythm and velocity of production. In order to operate at maximum production levels, a culture of homogenization must prevail. Flat land, long trees that are thin and without branches, and soil free of impediments are key. Here, diversity is an obstacle.

"Perhaps in 100 years, a Quilombola individual will look at the eucalyptus plantation and say that it is a forest, because he won't have the reference of what a native forest is. The cellulose company knows that if this memory is broken, there will be no more problems with resistance."

Joao Guimaraes, also from Angelim 1, tells Truthout that it is necessary to build the knowledge that will allow a cultural shift in the transition to a post-eucalyptus reality. "We can no longer live lamenting the disappearance of the river and the fresh water spring that dried up and the trees that disappeared, the birds that have left. The Atlantic Forest is gone now, and we have to regenerate it. These 40 years of eucalyptus plantations will not be forgotten overnight, which is why we have to work hard, experimenting with how it is that we are going to go about this recovery, with trial and error, in order to build transitional knowledge," Guimaraes said.

The land that has been retaken is part of this process. "These areas are serving so that we can create this understanding of the transition. We live with certain amounts of tension due to the fact that this land is being disputed and they could force us to leave at whatever time the company requests it. But we have no other option. As they advance with their modern machines, our form of insurgence is to plant food with our hoes. It's slow, but we are recuperating the land and our independence," he said.

This is the first generation that is retaking land primarily for the production of food. "It is the memory of the oldest ones that is strengthening our struggle," Guimaraes told Truthout.

The Struggle for Memory

One of the controversies at play is the memory of what the Atlantic Forest used to be and the passing on of this memory to the younger generations. "Perhaps in 100 years, a Quilombola individual will look at the eucalyptus plantation and say that it is a forest, because he won't have the reference of what a native forest is," Calazans said. "The cellulose company knows that if this memory is broken, there will be no more problems with resistance."

The generation of people in the state of Espirito Santo that remember the Atlantic Forest will be gone within the next 30 years. "These people have seen and lived in the forest. If they die and we still have not transitioned beyond eucalyptus back to native forests and traditional agriculture," said Calazans, "it will never happen."

"Memory assures the dream of these territories. The day that memory dies completely, we will no longer be able to think in a post-eucalyptus time," he added. "We have to invest in building understanding of this transition. These next three decades are strategically important in this fight."

Published in Truthout

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