Blog
Activist Deaths Demand Accountability
Last year 185 environmental activists were murdered world-wide, two-thirds from Latin America, according to Global Witness. Of the ten most dangerous countries in the world for environmental defenders, seven are in Latin America. The brave activists we lost were killed for resisting mines, dams, and other destructive industrial projects. Now, more than ever, we must demand accountability. For the loss to the environment, the loss of indigenous cultures, the loss of human rights. That just got harder. On May 23 the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights announced a severe financial crisis leading to “suspension of [scheduled] hearings and imminent layoff of nearly half of its staff.” While the Commission has long been short on funds, this is the worst financial crisis it has ever seen. The Commission depends on funding from the Organization of American States (OAS), governments in the Americas and Europe, organizations, and foundations. Nearly all governments have decreased or failed to honor their financial commitments. The financial crisis demonstrates that our work, and the work of colleagues, communities, and movements, is having an impact. The Commission has produced important decisions in cases involving indigenous and community rights, land and environmental protection, and destructive development projects. For a few years countries have complained that the Commission is going beyond its mandate in cases involving development projects. But of course, when development projects violate human rights, they clearly fall within the purview of the Inter-American Human Rights System. The Belo Monte Dam case provides clear evidence that this manufactured crisis is a result of our effectiveness. In 2011 the Commission granted the precautionary measures our colleagues and we requested on behalf of affected indigenous communities. Brazil reacted by immediately withdrawing its ambassador to the OAS and by withholding funding for the rest of the year. A new ambassador did not return until 2015 and Brazil’s payments haven’t normalized since. In addition, after the precautionary measures were issued Brazil started an aggressive process to “reform” the Commission that ended by weakening its power. At AIDA we have analyzed how the crisis affects our cases before the Commission; how it affects future cases that need international attention; and how it affects human rights protection in the Americas. Current cases will likely be delayed. Our case on toxic poisoning in La Oroya, Peru is already seriously delayed. The Commission has promised to release a report on the merits so the case can be taken to the next level, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. We have been told the Commission will approve the report, which has been completed, this year—despite losing 40% of its staff. This remains to be seen. Of course, we have contacted the Commission and stressed the importance of advancing the case. Informally, some judges from the Inter-American Court have indicated their eagerness to receive the case. Processing the Belo Monte case has only just started, after pending four years at the Commission. Strong political pressure from Brazil will likely delay it further. But political pressure on Brazil and the Commission can help the case move faster. As Belo Monte is linked to the biggest corruption scandal in Brazil, maybe the Commission will understand how relevant it is to advance the case. We will continue advocating for priority processing. New cases require further evaluation. We plan to bring at least one new case to the Commission soon, because unless we meet a deadline in a few weeks, the statute of limitations will prevent its consideration. All domestic remedies have been pursued; the Commission represents the last chance for justice. Despite the uncertainties of the current situation, it is important to preserve our clients’ rights in case the Commission’s funding is brought back to an adequate level. In other cases, we are looking for different ways to achieve justice. For example, we are exploring more than ever the use of national courts and national authorities. In addition, we are looking for new ways to engage financial institutions to prevent funding of projects that harm the environment and human rights. We are working with other organizations to develop response strategies. One of our attorneys, Rodrigo Sales, a Brazilian lawyer, recently represented AIDA at the General Assembly of the OAS. He advocated for human rights solutions in the region, among other issues. We consider collaboration and cooperation among the human rights and environmental communities to be essential. We need to stand together, showing governments and the public that human rights and the Commission are of vital importance. The financial crisis of the Commission—an international entity for hearing and resolving hemispheric human rights concerns—is an urgent issue that requires common understanding, thinking, strategizing, and acting. AIDA is working to make this happen.
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The love of nature, a lesson from father to daughter
By Aida Navarro, AIDA Communications and Human Resources Advisor On Father’s Day, I’d like to share the vision that my daughter Constanza has of her father. At AIDA we celebrate all the fathers who instill in their children a profound love for nature. We share your desire for all children to inherit a healthy planet on which environmental justice thrives. We also celebrate all the lawyers, like those on our team, who fight daily to defend the environment and human rights. We firmly believe that the love of our natural world begins in the cradle. I was barely a year old when my dad took me to one of the most magical places on Earth: Yellowstone National Park, the world’s first protected area. Nature and all the special creatures that live in it have enveloped my childhood ever since. When my teachers at school asked me what my father did for a living, I proudly told him that he is a defender of the planet. In his office, the walls are lined with photos of animals. My favorite is the white shark, which he took in a place called Guadalupe Island, where he’ll take me when I’m older. Every night I choose a book about sharks to read at bedtime. I already know the names of most species of sharks and I know what I must do to protect them. My dad Fernando says that being an environmental attorney is hard sometimes because he has to fight against people that do things to destroy the planet. Attorneys, he said, have to study a lot, know a lot of laws and use their brains to find ways to avoid damage to people and the environment. My mom knows a lot of lawyers who do the same work as my dad. She works with them in an organization that shares her name: AIDA. She helps them so that other people know what the organization does and can help them to defend nature. A Passing Dream I’m not sure if my memories of Yellowstone are real or if they’re all mixed up with photographs and the stories I’ve heard. I remember seeing a huge herd of buffalo out of the car window. They were so close I could smell them. I remember how patient my dad was when we was waiting to take a photo of a group of wolves that looked just like the tattoo on his arm. I can almost still smell the forest and hear the funny sounds that the squirrels make. I remember how amazing it was to discover, beneath the bark of trees, entire worlds so hidden from the gaze of us giants. Among so many other things, on that trip I learned to climb trees and throw stones, important skills for a young girl like me. I remember a mama bear with her two cubs crossing the road right in front of us. All of us in cars smiled an unforgettable smile and waited patiently for the animals to pass. My dad waited for me to grow a little bigger before he took me to meet the giants he had told me so much about: the grey whales. We drove for many hours. On the way, we stopped to walk among giant cactuses that grew up among the rocks. It was very hot and my dad told me about all the animals that lived in the desert. When we finally arrived to where we were going, we got on a small boat. We shouted with joy and excitement when a whale swam up and played with us as if we were a little toy boat in a bathtub. My dad held me tight in his arms as I stretched out to touch the whale. Her skin felt thick and airy, like those inflatable castles I love to jump in. I didn’t like it when the whale blew into my face; it smelled like fish! Living with Nature Even though he grew up in Mexico City, one of the biggest cities in the world, my parents chose to live in a much quieter place, on the Baja California peninsula. The view of the ocean delights every sunrise. We breathe clean air. In the mornings, my dad takes me to school down a long dirt road. On the way there, I like to greet a honey-colored horse that rests beneath a tree. At school, we have chickens and guinea pigs. We make compost, plant vegetables, run between trees and listen to birdsongs. It’s so much fun. When my dad travels, I miss him a lot, but I’m so happy that he’s out there saving the whales, dolphins and turtles. “Save so many dolphins,” I tell him when we talk on the phone. I imagine him as a super hero sailing in distant seas to rescue animals trapped in nets that fishermen forgot, or animals that would die from eating plastic they confused with food. I don’t want them to kill the animals. I think that when I’m older, I’ll be a veterinarian, or maybe a lawyer like my dad. That way I can defend the bears, sharks, trees and rivers; and also the children who have lost their homes to floods, or don’t have clean water to drink. Now that I’m almost five years old, I want my cake to have animals in danger of extinction on it... or maybe reptiles! I have so many unforgettable memories of Yellowstone, and even more photos, but the best memory, the one that still floods his face with happiness, is that on this trip I learned to say, “dad.”
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Mexico City: Air Pollution Points to Climate Solutions
By Laura Yaniz, AIDA social media manager (originally published in Animal Político) Smog causes continuous environmental alerts in Mexico City. But did you know a legal framework exists to combat the pollutants that cause it? Mexico City nearly entered into a state of emergency due to its poor air quality. The government almost closed gas stations, ordered half the city’s vehicles off the road, suspended classes, and closed government offices. If air pollution had spiked any higher, they’d have closed restaurants and reduced certain industrial operations by 60 percent. The cause of the crisis—which hasn’t been this bad in 14 years—is ground-level ozone. Along with black carbon, methane, and hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), ground-level ozone is a short-lived climate pollutant (SLCP). The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimates that, overall, SLCPs are responsible for more than 30 percent of global warming, although recent studies calculate that it may actually be closer to 40 or 45 percent. The good news is, they have a relatively short lifespan in the atmosphere, ranging from a few days to a few decades. Reducing these emissions, in Mexico and wherever they’re found around the world, presents an immediate opportunity to achieve near-term mitigation of climate change while improving air quality and human health. Close to Extreme Mexico City’s Metropolitan Index of Air Quality measures the chemical components of air in whole numbers that are easy to understand. On May 5, ozone reached 192 points (the equivalent of 0.1929 parts per million). When the Index reaches around 200 points ozone can damage skin. The city was only 8 points away! The city has spent several months in and out of Phase 1 of the Environmental Contingency Plan, whose most famous measure is the “Doble Hoy No Circula” program, which restricts vehicles from circulating two days a week, instead of the habitual one. If Phase 2 had been declared, the extreme measure would have divided vehicles by odd and even plates and declared that half of them could not be driven. About Ground-level Ozone Ozone is a gas that exists in two different layers of the atmosphere. In the stratosphere (the highest layer), ozone absorbs ultraviolet radiation and protects us from the sun’s dangerous rays. In the troposphere (the lower atmosphere, from the ground to about 10 or 15 kilometers up), ozone acts as a greenhouse gas that contributes to global warming, harms human health, and affects the growth of agricultural crops. Tropospheric ozone is not directly emitted by any one source. Instead, it’s the result of a chemical reaction between the sun and “precursor gases,” which can occur naturally or be produced by humans. The most important precursor gases in regards to ozone are carbon monoxide (CO), nitrogen oxides (NOx) and volatile organic compounds (VOCs). The latter cover a wide range of substances, including methane, and are primarily generated at gas stations, in homes, and through the chemical industry. Ozone remains in the atmosphere only a few days or weeks, a very short time compared to other gases, such as carbon dioxide, that linger in the atmosphere for centuries, even millennia. This is precisely what makes the mitigation of ozone an interesting opportunity: if we reduce emissions, we could see the climatic and health benefits in the near and medium term. Ozone contributes to such illnesses as bronchitis, emphysema, and asthma, and can scar lung tissue permanently. According to a report from the Climate & Clean Air Coalition, an international organization dedicated to reducing short-lived climate pollutants, tropospheric ozone is responsible for roughly 150 million premature deaths each year. It also affects global food security by reducing the ability of food to absorb carbon dioxide, which reduces yield. AIDA Supports Efforts to Control Short-Lived Climate Pollutants To help governments reduce SLCP emissions, AIDA attorneys have created a report, Controlando los contaminantes climáticos de vida corta: Una oportunidad para mejorar la calidad del aire y mitigar el cambio climático. El caso de Brasil, Chile, y México (Controlling Short-lived Climate Pollutants: An Opportunity to Improve Air Quality and Mitigate Climate Change: Brazil, Chile, and Mexico). We are distributing it to key decision-makers in government agencies to help them understand the urgency of the problem and the opportunities their legal frameworks provide to facilitate emission reductions. The report reviews policies, laws, and programs on air quality and climate change as they relate to SLCPs in Brazil, Chile, and Mexico. Of the three countries studied, Mexico is currently the only one that has incorporated these contaminants into its climate change policy. The government recently went a step further by including SLCP reductions in its Intended Nationally Determined Contributions (INDCs)—the commitments made under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. As the AIDA report notes, it’s not enough to recognize the importance of reducing SLCP emissions. Greater efforts must be made to reduce emissions. Countries must improve pollutant-monitoring systems, provide sufficient funding for emission-reduction programs, and create systems to evaluate progress. Developing strategies to identify principle emissions sources and to reduce emissions should be a near-term priority not just for the Mexican capital, but also for all the governments of Latin America. AIDA is committed to supporting policymakers with legal expertise that can speed improvements in air quality, human health, and climate change.
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Marcelina, the voice of the San Pedro Mezquital
At 57 years old, Marcelina López has a very active life. She sews her own clothes, makes beautiful jewelry, raises chickens, sells eggs, cooks, is a midwife and organizes the women of her community; all while faithfully conserving her traditions, those of the indigenous Wixárika people. Perhaps what distinguishes Marcelina most is her great character and conviction, qualities that have rooted her deeply in a grand cause: the defense of Mexico’s San Pedro Mezquital River, threatened by Las Cruces Dam. At AIDA we’re deeply moved by the commitment of Marcelina and honored to be part of the same fight. Just like her, we want the San Pedro—the only free-flowing river left in the western Sierra Madre Mountains—to run free. We’ve been inspired to know more about this incredible woman, and to understand why she does what she does. Colors of the Sierra Madre Marcelina lives in a house made of mud, built high upon a hill, in a small community in the state of Nayarit. To go anywhere from her house, she has to walk an hour and a half through the mountains. She travels everywhere on foot. There’s no doubt Marcelina is a special woman. Everyone in the region knows her; she is unmistakable. She has the look of a wise indigenous woman, the bright colors of her clothes equal only to those of the beaded necklaces she wears each day. She herself colors the beads; they are a symbol of the importance of her culture. She often wears a head wrap, which gives her an air of certainty and connotes rich ancestral wisdom. Though her profound presence can seem serious, Marcelina is a very sweet and loving person. Over the years, Marcelina has not been immune to violence and machismo, in its many expressions. She has had to fight to have her voice recognized in agrarian assemblies, and, for a time, had to provide for her children as a single mother. Her people, the Wixárika—known in Spanish as the Huicholes—are a majority group in Nayarit. They live in the western central region of Mexico, in the Sierra Madre Mountains; they primarily populate the states of Nayarit and Jalisco, but are also represented in parts of Durange and Zacatecas. In their native tongue, belonging to the family of Uto-Aztecan languages, wixárika means “people.” For the Wixárika, ceremonies are fundamental to the social wellbeing of the group. It is through these sacred rituals that they ask for rain, give thanks for the harvest, bless its fruits, and pray for health and vitality. Their ceremonies are, in short, where they celebrate and honor life. For Marcelina and her people, the San Pedro Mezquital is the pillar of social, spiritual and economic life. Its waters support their subsistence farming and fishing activities; 14 of their sacred sites are spread along its length. What’s more, the river feeds Marismas Nacionales, one of the most important mangrove forests in all of Mexico. This important source of life and culture is threatened now by the construction of Las Cruces Dam, a project being proposed by the Federal Electricity Commission. The megaproject would be located 65 kilometers north of the city of Tepic. It would have a capacity of 240 MW, divided between three generators. The dam would effectively stand as a 188-meter high concrete curtain. Speaking for the river In her excellent Spanish, accented with clear links to her indigenous roots, Marcelina has on various occasions stood before microphones and cameras to defend the San Pedro River and the lives of those who depend upon it. “The construction of this dam will have a severe impact on our culture and our spirituality. Many of our ceremonial centers are located along this river,” she explained. “It is there that we leave our offerings of thanks; it there that we pray, not just for our own community, but for the entire world.” When asked why she decided to be part of the movement in defense of the San Pedro, Marcelina responded: “As an indigenous women, I’m hurt that they want to take away our river. What’s happening? Why didn’t they consult us indigenous people [about the project]? Where is their respect? Why are we treated this way?” Her questions remain unanswered. The construction of Las Cruces will have negative impacts on the land, its natural resources, and the way of life of the indigenous people who depend upon it. The dam will flood 4,506 hectares; the town of San Blasito, sections of communal land, at least 14 sacred sites, and one ceremonial center, will all be under water. “We are the roots of Mexico,” Marcelina concluded. “It’s not easy for us to change our sacred sites; they’re like a tree rooted deep in the soil. Down these rivers run the blood of our gods.”
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Brazil inaugurated Belo Monte: There’s nothing to celebrate!
The Brazilian government grandly inaugurated the Belo Monte Dam, which sits on the Xingu River in the midst of the Amazon. As an organization that legally represents affected indigenous and riverine communities, as well as residents of the city of Altamira, we consider there to be no reason to celebrate. The dam has been built by overlooking national and international standards that safeguard the environment and human rights. GET TO KNOW MORE about this injustice through the words of our senior attorney María José Veramendi Villa!
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Photo Essay: Life in the shadow of Belo Monte
By Anna Miller, AIDA writer Deep in the Amazon in north Brazil, the world’s third largest dam towers over a once lush jungle landscape. In its far-reaching shadow live the indigenous and riverine communities who have long called the region home. They are people who have lived and grown by the bounty of the forest and the Xingu River. For most, the natural world that surrounds them is inseparable from their definition of home. But that home is changing rapidly. As the Belo Monte Dam begins operations, and its floodgates open, their world is looking and feeling very different. Large stretches of jungle have been flooded, islands completely submerged. The fish are dying, the wildlife scared away. Families have been separated, and entire communities forced from their land. The shadow cast by Belo Monte is long, and it is dark. The lifestyle of the people of the Xingu river basin has been drastically changed without their consent. Their basic human rights have been violated time and time again. The operating company’s attempts at compensation would be laughable, if they weren’t so heartbreaking. The photos that follow depict people and communities who are living amid the volatile realities of this once peaceful patch of rainforest. They are victims of the corruption, violence and abuse that have come to envelop the largest engineering project in Brazil’s history. The Xingu River is dying. Arapujá Island, visible from Altamira, has been completely stripped of life, causing radical change in river currents. Smaller islands where fishermen lived surrounded by fruit trees have been submerged by rising water levels, as the dam’s reservoirs are filled. On one day in January, the Belo Monte dam opened its floodgates without warning; the river is said to have risen more than 20 feet in an hour. Massive amounts of fish have been dying off; locals say Norte Energía even has cleanup crews that bury them, to hide the scale of the daily devastation. Downstream from the dam, the flow of the river at the Big Bend is reducing drastically; the water is becoming muddy and deoxygenated. Communities near and far—from indigenous people to riverine fishermen—are suffering the impacts, as their lives are torn from the river they know so well. As the Xingu dies, they too lose their lives—for the river itself has long been their home, their source of food and livelihood. The construction of Belo Monte has had severe impacts on the natural world, which has long been the primary food source for jungle communities. Tribes who have lived a subsistence lifestyle are finding the river and the jungle they rely on aren’t producing enough, or are too contaminated, to feed their families. Indigenous people have been driven into the nearest city, Altamira, to meet their basic needs. Some go to buy food or go to the doctor; others have succumbed to the struggle and left their village entirely. Many who come to Altamira stay at Casa Do Indio, a house built as a shelter for the recent influx of indigenous peoples. There, they stay in overcrowded rooms, lacking proper sanitation and endangering their health. Far from their homes, stripped of their dignity, they are confronted with the harsh realities of a violent and overcrowded city. As the city closest to Belo Monte, Altamira has undergone drastic changes due to the dam’s construction. Since the project began, the city’s population has grown by nearly 75 percent; 170,000 people are currently living in a city designed for far fewer. Violence has skyrocketed and entire neighborhoods have been destroyed, displacing residents and demolishing longtime family homes. Even neighborhoods Norte Energía claimed would be unaffected by the dam are experiencing its impacts. The rapid growth has wreaked havoc on the city’s sewage system. Belo Monte’s operators have implemented no water or sewage treatment solutions whatsoever, and the entire city is suffering from a lack of basic sanitation. As a result, muddied and flooded streets are widespread. People are demanding answers from Brazil’s Environmental Authority, and from Norte Energía. But they’re left with only questions. The impacts of Belo Monte are not just forcing people from their land; they are tearing people away from each other. As homes are destroyed, and entire villages relocated, the individuals ripped from their lives are struggling to adapt. Communities are losing touch with their traditions; daughters are losing touch with their mothers. Karoline grew up in a rural community surrounded by her family and the rich natural world she remembers so fondly. When her family had to leave their land behind, they didn’t have many options, and were forced to split up. Her parents went to stay with relatives, and Karoline and her sister left for Altamira. Seeking opportunities, education, employment, they too have since parted ways. As a teenager, Karoline is on her own now, far from home. As a requirement of the project’s implementation, Norte Energía must comply with certain conditions, designed to benefit affected communities. They have been implemented in different forms for different situations, none of which could be described as full, adequate or culturally respectful. The Arara da Volta Grande is one of the communities that will be most impacted by Belo Monte. They live on the Big Bend of the Xingu, where the flow of the river has been substantially reduced. To compensate the community for changes to their way of life, Norte Energía is building them “better” houses. Though still within their territory, the structures are located away from the river. They are made of cement and have thick roofs that trap the jungle heat inside each little box. They are a far cry from the wooden, open, thatch-roofed homes traditional to the Arara’s culture and community. Instead of providing the Arara people with a functioning well to provide clean water, Norte Energía has given the community houses they don’t know how to live in; houses that, each and every day, would pull them further away from where they’ve always been. When we talk to members of the indigenous and riverine communities surrounding Belo Monte, we listen to the same answers to many of our questions. The dam is disrupting their way of life. It’s cutting them off from the natural world around them. It’s threatening their culture, their traditional knowledge and the very structure of their communities. Leoncio Arara, a traditional healer from the Arara da Volta Grande, says he now lives in fear. Fear of the dam breaking, of the water rushing down and flooding his home and his community; fear of the fish dying, of the clean water drying up; fear of the dissipation of his culture and the disappearance of his people, who have lived on and with this land for generations. In the once-lush jungle surrounding the massive Belo Monte dam, we see injustice everywhere we look. We see displacement and environmental devastation. What we don’t see is accountability. That’s why we've taken the case to the Inter-American System of Human Rights to have Brazil respond on an international level to the allegations of human rights violations stemming from the construction of the Belo Monte Dam. We’re dedicated to this struggle and we won’t rest until the people we represent, and all those whose lives have been affected by Belo Monte, see justice.
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Losing Berta Cáceres: the breaking point in the struggle against impunity
It’s been one month since the assassination of Berta Cáceres, tireless defender of the environment and human rights in Honduras. Her murder quickly gave birth to a global movement calling for justice. It has become a turning point for human rights and environmental defenders and, especially, in the fight for the rights of women and indigenous peoples in Latin America. For that, March 3 will never be forgotten. There aren’t enough words to describe adequately who Berta was, and who she will always be in our memories. She represented what it meant to be a woman, an indigenous person, an environmentalist, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a colleague and a friend. As the BBC said, she’s the Honduran woman who twisted the arm of China and the World Bank; her work led to the withdrawal of their funding for Agua Zarca, the dam Berta was so passionately fighting against. For all that she did, and all that she was, the loss of Berta has severely hurt us all. In a matter of hours, her death caused an unprecedented global outcry. Thousands of organizations, institutions and individuals from around the world have been speaking out against her murder and loudly demanding justice. Point of no return Ironically, the night Berta was murdered, I watched Selma, a film that narrates a key moment in the Civil Rights Movement. Fifty-one years ago, on March 7, 1965, a voting rights march that left Selma toward Montgomery, Alabama was violently repressed. That senseless act of violence became the catalyst for the passage of the Voting Rights Act, which aimed to overcome legal barriers that prevented African Americans from exercising their right to vote. Similarly, we must make Berta’s murder the catalyst that breaks the systematic impunity of cases like this, in Honduras and throughout the region. It’s time to ensure that our indignation, and the demands for justice and investigation made by countless organizations and international authorities, will have an impact. Like Alabama in 1965, Honduras has endured years of systematic human rights violations, linked in large part to infrastructure and mining projects. Just days before her death, Berta and COPINH, the organization she directed, reported threats received for their opposition to the Agua Zarca Dam project. It had been years since the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights first granted precautionary measures to protect Berta’s life, with which the Honduran government failed to comply. After Berta’s murder, on March 5, due to the gravity of the situation the Commission authorized precautionary measures to protect Berta’s family, her colleagues at COPINH, and Gustavo Castro, the sole witness to her death. But days later Néstor García, another member of COPINH, was also assassinated. Then, Gustavo was prevented from returning home to Mexico despite cooperating with the investigation, and despite his ability to continue doing so under the Treaty of Judicial Cooperation between Mexico and Honduras. Members of COPINH and Berta’s relatives continue to report new threats. Many international officials—including the Organization of American States, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, UN special rapporteurs, and members of the Congresses of the United States, Costa Rica and the European Union—have also demanded an objective investigation into Berta’s murder. Despite public outcry, little progress has been made thus far, evidenced by the lack of response from the Honduran government and conclusions drawn by an international observation mission. The situation in Honduras reflects the alarming reality of human rights in Latin America, particularly there and in Brazil, Colombia, Mexico and Peru. Multiple reports conclude that the region is under fire. Those who fight to protect their rights, their land, and the environment are risking their freedom, their integrity, and even their lives. Irresponsible businesses and financing Berta’s murder also underscores the responsibility of companies, financial institutions and others involved in the Agua Zarca Dam project. The project’s outright threats to the environment and human rights have been reported for many years. Those threats are the reason the World Bank and Sinohydro pulled out of the project in 2014. The FMO of Holland and Finn Fund of Finland also withdrew their support on March 16, after the assassination of Néstor García. The Central American Bank for Economic Integration (CABEI) froze funding to the project a few days ago. The situation surrounding Berta’s death clearly demonstrates one reason large dams are a bad energy solution—they create severe socioenvironmental impacts. Honduras, like the rest of Latin America, has options to produce energy in ways that truly promote development and reduce poverty. It’s time to learn from the mistakes of the past and move into the 21st century by implementing sustainable energy alternatives. The shocking loss of Berta, the uncertain situation of Gustavo and members of COPINH… it all reminds me of the words of a friend, a journalist who was driven out of his own country for what he wrote. He said that extractive industries, including large dams, are the banana republics of our century. I think he’s right. In Latin America, the uncontrolled extraction of natural resources today is akin to the reign of dictators in the 1960s. We cannot afford to let this happen again. This time will be different. What happened in Honduras must be a watershed moment—a time, finally, to enforce international standards for human rights and the environment. In Berta’s case, there must be an immediate, effective and independent investigation. It should acknowledge the responsibility of the companies involved with Agua Zarca. The hydroelectric project itself should be analyzed to find suitable alternatives. Honduras and all the States involved should implement corrective measures to ensure that what happened to Berta and Néstor does not happen again. Those of us who worked with Berta, who share her passions and principles, will continue to demand justice. Every country in the Americas needs and deserves it.
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Conserving the shared parts of our oceans
By Gladys Martínez, AIDA senior attorney During Semana Santa, my family and I visited the Las Baulas National Marine Park in Guanacaste, Costa Rica. A clearly committed park ranger there told us about the threats sea turtles face when they spawn on the coast, and of the importance of protecting the beaches and avoiding poorly built development projects. But what most caught my attention was the curiosity of my two children, ages three and five, asking how far the turtles had to swim to lay their eggs. “If they get lost, do the baby turtles not get born?” they asked. For most of us, the answer to their question is a mystery. And from that mystery comes the importance of protecting life in the high seas, those international waters that belong to no country and are therefore part of the global commons. What happens in the high seas, far past what we can see and care for from the coast, motivates the 33 NGOS and 193 delegations of the United Nations currently meeting in New York. Over the course of two weeks, they’re working to create a legally binding agreement that conserves marine life in areas beyond any national jurisdiction. The agreement will be implemented under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). AIDA is the only NGO from Latin America that is present at the First Session of the Preparatory Committee, which seeks to create the new treaty within two years. As part of the High Seas Alliance, and with support from the Pew Charitable Trusts, we are working to bring the voice of Latin American civil society to the negotiations. Alongside other member organizations of the High Seas Alliance, we are advocating for the new treaty to include the following principles: Protection and preservation of the marine environment of the high seas. Cooperation between States to conserve the living resources of the high seas. Use of the best available scientific information in decision-making. Good management of high seas resources, guaranteeing them for present and future generations. Implementation of the precautionary principle, according to which the absence of information cannot constitute an excuse for the failure to protect the ecosystems of the high seas. Management based on large-scale planning that takes into account the interrelation of marine biodiversity. Sustainability and equity in reference to the possibility of using resources to meet the needs of present generations, while protecting the needs of future generations. Special attention should be given to the interests of and benefits to developing countries. Good governance (transparency, public participation and access to review procedures and resources). “Polluter pays,” a principle that implies that States causing pollution must take responsibility for it. Compliance with and respect for the commitments made under UNCLOS. Additionally, we consider it of vital importance that States establish marine protected areas, beyond national jurisdictions, to guarantee the conservation of marine biodiversity. At AIDA, we look with great hope and enthusiasm for the commitments of the States during this first leg of the long road ahead. We know that after these two years of negotiations, we will successfully emerge with a treaty that protects the marine biodiversity that belongs to us all—that rich life that lives in the greatest part of our seas. Thank you for supporting us as we continue to work towards this goal!
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Water in Mexico: a human right, bottled
Mexico consumes 12 percent of the global volume of bottled water, highlighting the failures of the country’s water supply system and the violation of a basic human right. Nobody should be denied a glass of water. Serving your guests water is polite; it shows you have good manners and empathy for others. It is also, though not quite as obvious, an issue of human rights. In Mexico’s capital, until only recently, restaurants could deny a glass of water to their customers and require them to drink only bottled water. On one occasion, the owner of a gourmet pizzeria reacted furiously when she saw my boyfriend take out his own water bottle to take a pill. She told him it was prohibited to bring outside food and drink into her restaurant. Then, when we asked for a glass of water, she responded angrily: “We don’t give water away here, we sell it in bottles.” A circular business What you find being sold in supermarkets is not the water, but the bottle. In Mexico, the cost of the extraction and supply of water is relatively low, since almost the entire service is subsidized. According to the highest available rate, a glass of water costs seven cents (.007 Mexican pesos). For a bottle with the same quantity of water, the pizzeria charged $1.50 (28 pesos), seven times the supermarket price. The incident in the pizzeria occurred after the Legislative Assembly of Mexico City required food establishments to provide free glasses of water to customers who ask for it. But even after the legislative provision, I have often had to clarify that I want a glass of water, not a bottle. The waiters often warn me, “It’s filtered water,” reminding me of its unreliability. The dynamic behind this type of business has changed: they now buy large jugs of bottled water or spend money on filters, because in Mexico it’s well known that you never drink water directly from the tap. It’s an unspoken secret, almost popular belief, that tap water is dirty water. It’s common that even those of us who don’t buy bottled water have a filter in our homes. This belief emerged from the 1985 earthquake, when various pipes broke and drinking water mixed with sewage. Later, during a cholera epidemic in the 1990’s, the government promoted chlorinating or boiling the tap water. Yet no authority was responsible for the quality of the pipes through which the drinking water ran; water which, by definition, should be fit for human consumption. In contrast, Chile promotes three reliable water sources: chlorinated, boiled or taken from the tap. In Mexico, the health threat coincided with the arrival of bottled water. What the companies promoted in those early years was confidence and security in the quality of their water. So, little by little, we went from boiling and chlorinating our water, to buying it in 20-liter jugs, to buying small plastic bottles that hold less than 250 ml of water. According to the International Bottled Water Association (IBWA), in 2014 Mexicans consumed 253 liters of bottled water per person. This compares to 94.3 liters per person in Europe (where public drinking fountains are commonplace) and 37 liters per person globally. Mexico consumes 12 percent of the world’s total volume of bottled water. The World Bank cites 80 percent of the Mexican population as distrustful of the water supply system. Bottled water companies, then, have nothing but room to grow, especially considering the majority of the population doesn’t yet consume the recommended two liters of water per day. And a large quantity of bottled water is used on daily tasks such as cooking and washing dishes, even on bathing newborn babies. Can you or can’t you drink tap water? The answer is: It depends. The responsibility for water supply in Mexico is so fractioned that it’s impossible to get a convincing response. In the capital city, water quality is disclosed each year and in only two neighborhoods does it not meet standards for human consumption. Unfortunately, those with the worst water quality also have the lowest standard of living. Information on the subject doesn’t arrive to our homes, it’s difficult to access and – in some cases – the information is non-existent, hidden or disguised. No government authority is responsible for water quality: not the National Water Commission, not state or city governments. Violating a human right Without convincing responses about the reliability of the water supply system, Mexicans are opting to buy bottled water. By doing so, we’re demonstrating that something is wrong with the country’s water system, and the human right to water is not guaranteed. According to the UN, drinking water must be safe, clean accessible and affordable for all. The human right to water was included in the Mexican Constitution four years ago, but its implementation, and the party responsible for guaranteeing it, remains under discussion. While the debate continues, millions of Mexicans are, understandably, buying bottled water to protect their health. The lack of information about or accountability for the water supply system makes the guarantee of this human right nothing more than a dream. The UN established that people shouldn’t spend more than three percent of their income on water services. In Mexico, only those with incomes greater than $1,200 a month (21,000 pesos) spend three percent or less of their income on bottled water. The other 80 percent of households in the country spend as much as eight percent, a staggering figure, especially considering it doesn’t include what they pay for water used for other domestic activities. People are buying bottled water because they don’t trust the country’s water supply system. By denying a glass of water to its population, the Mexican government is denying a fundamental human right.
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Belo Monte: the river may be dying but the search for justice never will
“The river is dead!” exclaimed Raimundo as we navigated in his motorboat from Altamira toward the big bend of the Xingu River. From my perch in Raimundo’s boat, it was easy to see how bleak the landscape surrounding Altamira—the northern Brazilian city closest to the construction of the Belo Monte Dam—has become. The big island of Arapujá, located across from Altamira, has been completely deforested, causing a radical change in the currents of the river. Many of the smaller islands, previously inhabited by fishermen, are now completely submerged, only the tops of trees visible above the rising water. I visited Altamira, and the indigenous and riverine communities nearby, with colleagues from Justiça Global. We came to update our case, and to inform those affected by Belo Monte of a new hope for justice: in December, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights opened the case against Brazil for human rights violations caused by the dam. In January, Norte Energía, the company charged with the construction and operation of Belo Monte, opened the dam’s floodgates without warning communities living downstream. They say the Xingu grew seven meters in just an hour. In some communities, the rising water flooded their riverside land, taking with it canoes, boats and items of clothing. Destroying lives The boat took us to a spot in the river where a large island once stood with a house in the middle. Raimundo Nonato had lived there. He raised animals and dedicated his life to fishing. It had been the perfect place to bathe in the river. It was there, in 2013, that Antonia Melo, leader of Movimento Xingu Vivo Para Siempre, baptized me as a defender of these waters. Now the island is under water, and all that remains to be seen are the tops of some fruit trees. Leoncio Arara, an indigenous man from the community Arara da Volta Grande, says his community lives in fear of the river’s expected growth, the loss of their culture and way of life, and from the recent death of 16 tons of fish. They have seen cracks in the dike of the dam’s bypass channel and fear it will break, as the Fundão mining waste dam did in Minas Gerais. On our tour of the area, we also noticed discolored patches on the dike, which should certainly be a sign of alarm. Leoncio said the fear keeps him up at night. On the indigenous lands of the Arara da Volta Grande and Paquiçamba, the life of inhabitants has changed radically. They must now travel to the city (Altamira) to sell their harvest and to buy food. The changing environment has drastrically reduced opportunities for fishing and hunting, rendering their traditional subsistence lifestyle inadequate. Leoncio says that his peoples’ traditional knowledge and community life are being lost. Their homes are different, as is the formation of their village. Norte Energía has carelessly constructed houses that conflict with their culture, because of the location and materials used. Their community lacks even a well from which to retrieve drinking water, a condition that should have been met more than five years ago. Pain, injustice and struggle On our trip, we spent nine days in the area around the Belo Monte dam. We listened to so many stories of pain and injustice: of indigenous children that died from bad medical care in villages without access to the city; of indigenous people who left their villages to seek shelter in the city and now live in the overcrowded Casa del Indio, surrounded by filth and, often, conflicting ethnic groups. We relived the stories of tireless struggle, like that of Socorro Arara, an indigenous woman whose home was destroyed, along with those of her relatives. Socorro and her family all had to haggle with the company, as if their basic human rights were negotiable. Some received very little money in compensation, others the option of a prefabricated house in a neighborhood far from the river. Socorro’s parents live in one of those neighborhoods. Behind their new cement house, they built a small home with the wood they were able to save from their destroyed home. It is there that they really live, by the light of small kerosene lamps, sleeping in hammocks. Electricity is not part of their lives. Residents of Altamira live surrounded by the ironies of the third largest dam in the world. On February 28, Altamira and various cities in the state of Para were left without electricity. The cutoff, described by the receptionist at our hotel as routine, was due to testing on one of the dam’s turbines. There’s not much time now until the Belo Monte begins operation. If, for the countries of the region, Belo Monte represents the cherished dream of development, for me it represents a nightmare from which I’m dying to awake. It’s a nightmare of pain and human rights violations, in which a beautiful, living river is quickly fading away. Going with it are the lives and the dreams of those who have long depended upon its clean and healthy waters. Human rights are not negotiable. The victims of Belo Monte need justice now! It is that dream of justice that I hope, one day soon, becomes reality. -- I wrote these lines in honor of all the people who have dedicated their lives to defending our rivers and our life.
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