Bolivia

Preserving Bolivia’s High-Andean lakes, sources of life

Communities request international support to save Bolivia’s Poopó and Uru Uru lakes

Local communities and organizations call on the Ramsar Convention to visit the lakes and issue recommendations for their preservation. The lakes are at grave risk from mining, river diversion and the climate crisis, threatening the subsistence of indigenous communities and the region’s unique plant and animal species. La Paz, Bolivia.  Local communities along with a coalition of organizations request that the Ramsar Convention, an intergovernmental treaty for the protection of wetlands, send an expert mission to evaluate the health of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru, and issue recommendations to the Bolivian government for the urgent recovery of these key ecosystems. “The Ramsar Convention’s specialized knowledge on wetlands can be of great use to save lakes Poopó and Uru Uru,” said Carlos Lozano Acosta, senior attorney with the Interamerican Association for Environmental Defense (AIDA). These lakes are an important source of water for the plants and animals of the Central-Eastern Bolivian highlands, particularly for several endemic and migratory bird species. Lake Poopó is the second largest lake in Bolivia, after the iconic Lake Titicaca. Together, the lakes host the largest number of flamingos in the Bolivian highlands and, quite possibly, in the entire high Andean region of South America. These highland ecosystems are also home to unique species such as the Titicaca grebe (Rollandia microptera), an endangered species of flightless bird. The lives and livelihoods of peasant and indigenous populations—including Quechua, Aymara, and Uru Murato communities—depend on the preservation of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru. The Uru Murato are known as the “people of water” due to their dependence on the lakes, and are among the oldest native indigenous communities in Bolivia. “It was precisely to preserve the lakes that, in 2002, the government registered Poopó and Uru Uru as wetlands of international importance under the Ramsar Convention,” explained Sergio Vásquez, director of the Andean Communication and Development Center (CENDA). “As such, we ask that Ramsar support the Bolivian government in the protection of these and other high Andean wetlands.” In December 2015, the water levels of Lake Poopó were reduced to such a degree that the body of water actually disappeared, in what is now considered one of the largest environmental catastrophes in the country. The causes were various: sedimentation produced by mining activity; the diversion of the lake’s tributary rivers; and natural phenomenon aggravated by the climate crisis. Although the lake’s levels have since increased in times of rain, the situation remains critical during the dry season. “We’re requesting that Ramsar experts identify measures to strengthen the surveillance and monitoring of these ecosystems,” said Angela Cuenca, of the Coordinated Collective for Socio-Environmental Actions (CASA Collective). “We’d also like them to recommend mitigation and restoration actions for the damages caused by mining activities.” The degradation of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru directly affects the wellbeing of the people who depend on them, causing harms to public health, particularly among women, girls and boys. The grave situation of the lakes forced the Uru Murato people, previously dedicated to fishing, to migrate for work in the mines, placing them among the region’s first climate refugees. “We indigenous and rural women live and feel the effects of pollution and the lake’s disappearance, because we are responsible for feeding and sustaining our families,” explained Margarita Aquino, from the National Network of Women Defenders of Mother Earth (RENAMAT). “These water sources are vital for our communities and for Mother Earth Press contact: Victor Quintanilla (Mexico), AIDA, [email protected], +5215570522107  

International tribunal supports indigenous struggle for the Amazon

“The most beautiful jungle in the world,” wrote Alcides D’orbigny, a French biologist, of the Isiboro Sécure Indigenous Territory and National Park (known locally as Tipnis, for its Spanish initials) in the 1830s. Located between the departments of Beni and Cochabamba, Tipnis is a natural protected area that extends over 12,363 square kilometers of Bolivian Amazon. It’s one of the world’s most biodiverse sites and home to many indigenous cultures—among them the Mojeño Trinitarios, the Tsiman and the Turacaré.  Despite its recognition as a National Park and Indigenous Territory, the area has for decades been threatened by a proposed highway that would effectively divide it in two. The construction would cause grave social and environmental damages, some of which have already occurred—two of three proposed stretches of road have already been built.  As long as the highway has been proposed, the indigenous people of Tipnis have stood strong in their resistence, calling to protect the rainforest and the life it holds. Their efforts paid off last month in a precedent-setting legal victory for the protection of human rights and the environment.  The International Rights of Nature Tribunal ruled that the Bolivian State had “violated” the rights of nature and of the indigenous people that inhabit Tipnis by encouraging the highway’s construction.  The Tribunal was created in April 2010 at the People’s Conference on Climate Change and the Rights of Mother Earth, when the Universal Declaration of Rights of Mother Earth was also signed.  Its role is to establish and investigate any violation of the rights outlined in the Declaration and found in the internal laws of each country. The Tribunal determines whether there was a violation and, if so, who was responsible. It emits recommendations, advisory opinions, and can determine provisional measures.  Indigenous defense of the Bolivian Amazon The proposed highway through Tipnis has spurred strong indigenous resistance, and has also caused great suffering. The most painful incident happened in 2011 when more than 100 indigenous people marching on La Paz, headquarters of the Bolivian government, were brutally repressed by police. Despite the conflict, that demonstration achieved the enactment of a law that bestowed the national park the status of “intangible zone” or absolute reserve. Unfortunately, six years later, that law was null and void when the government enacted a new law through more expeditious process.  Tipnis indigenous representatives denounced this and other acts before the International Rights of Nature Tribunal, which agreed to consider the case in January 2018, and then sent an international commission of observers to visit the zone and interview stakeholders.  Indigenous representatives denounced that, despite being a single roadway, the project was actually presented separately, in three separate phases. Currently, only the final section remains unconstructed.  Other irregularities included the awarding of the project to a Brazilian company without first completing an environmental impact assessment, and the lack of adequate consultation with affected indigenous communities.  The Tribunal's sentence, issued May 15, finds the Bolivian government responsible for rights violations and calls for immediate compliance with measures including: Definitively stopping of any progress on construction; Recognizing the faculties of indigenous peoples to guarantee their control in Tipnis, including territorial autonomy and the right to prior consultation; Annuling a law that removed the status of intangible zone from Tipnis; Stopping the advance of colonization toward the central zone of the national park; Canceling plans for oil expansion on the site; Effectively applying the law to guarantee the protection of the rights of Mother Earth; and Guaranteeing indigenous peoples their fundamental role as defenders of Mother Earth.  What’s next for Tipnis?  Although the Tribunal’s judgment is not binding, it is a precedent established by a recognized and ethical court. For this reason, the Coordinator of Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon River Basin—an international indigenous organization—announced it would use the ruling as an instrument of proof to bring the case before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.  The situation in Tipnis is complex.  While construction of the missing section was suspended after losing credit for its execution, some actors continue to defend the road as fundamental to connecting the center and the north of the country, facilitating access to basic services and other development opportunities for the communities of Tipnis.  The other side of that argument is the extensive environmental degradation to an area rich in biodiversity—acknowleding that the road would be just the beginning of activities within the protected area.  I don’t believe anyone has the absolute answer. And so my analysis isn’t about making a value judgment, but about complying with the law, which resides in reason and justice.  Although part of the road is constructed, there is much more to go, and so the resistance continues. The Tribunal’s decision can and should be used as an added impulse toward protecting the land.  In the end, every effort is worthwhile knowing that the destruction of such a valuable natural ecosystem represents a point of no return.   

When nature is your best client

AIDA’s attorneys both hail from and live in Latin America, fostering a profound respect for the region’s natural environment and those who depend so intimately on it. They’re turning their knowledge into action, and working to protect communities and ecosystems vital to their national heritage.    Uniting the environmental community in Bolivia Claudia believes in environmental justice. “If people are not guaranteed quality of life and an adequate natural environment, their basic human rights are being violated,” she said. This belief led her first to study law and then to work on behalf of civil society to promote the production of healthy, pesticide-free food. Small-scale agriculture, with less environmental impact and more community benefits, is what Claudia remembers best when she thinks of her childhood in Cochabamba, Bolivia. There were gardens behind every house. From a very young age, she grew berries and always had apples, figs, guava, and other fresh fruit on hand. But with urbanization, the valley where she grew up became a city, and buildings replaced the lush green landscape. “It was a complete shock to see these changes made in the name of progress.” Claudia knows that her contribution to a better world will come from environmental law, and that she will have a greater impact by reaching more people. That’s why she joined AIDA’s Freshwater Program, where she offers free legal support to governments, communities, and local organizations. One of Claudia’s greatest achievements has been to successfully unite isolated efforts across Bolivia to confront common environmental problems. This year Claudia oversaw the formation of the Environmental Justice Network of Bolivia, a space for organizations and individuals to develop joint strategies for environmental protection. As their first big event, the Network organized a two-day forum on how to achieve justice for damages caused by mining operations. “I’ve seen the ways that Bolivia’s indigenous peoples understand the world, and how they relate with Mother Earth. In cities, nature is seen as an object; for the indigenous, it’s the common house we must care for because it provides us with everything we have. I’ve made this vision my own.”  Protecting coral reefs in Mexico   Camilo’s first interaction with the ocean took place in Boca del Cielo, a remote beach on the coast of Chiapas, Mexico where a stream meets the sea. There, he played in the waves and ate seafood, saw his first sea turtle, and watched the monkeys and birds play in the tall mangroves.     During his childhood in San Cristobal de la Casas, his father taught him to swim against the current in the Cascadas de Agua Azul, an important natural reserve.    “My father loves nature and has always transmitted that feeling to my brothers and me,” said Camilo, who now lives with his son Emiliano en La Paz, Baja California Sur.    Living in a coastal city has given him a newfound appreciation for the ocean and its vital connection to our land. Camilo applies this understanding to his work as an attorney with AIDA’s Marine and Coastal Protection Program.    He is working, for example, to save the Veracruz Reef System, the largest coral ecosystem in the Gulf of Mexico, which serves as a natural barrier against storms and hurricanes and is a source of livelihood for fishing communities.    The site is seriously threatened by the expansion of the Port of Veracruz. Camilo is working so that the Mexican government respects the international treaties it has signed, which obligate the preservation of the site and the biodiversity found within.   Camilo remembers, when he studied law in Chiapas, exploring caves in his free time, to which local farmers guided him.    “Being in touch with nature often leads you to small communities who care for and revere their connection with the natural world, values you quickly come to understand and share.” Seeking the rain in Brazil If anyone knows the value of the rain, it’s the people of Paraíba State in northeast Brazil, who have for years been hit by an extreme drought. There, according to official information, the number of cities without water nearly doubled between 2016 and 2017.   “The drought has shaped our customs, our eating habits, and our culture,” says Marcella, who was born in the State’s capital city of João Pessoa. Now living in Recife, she is a fellow with AIDA’s Human Rights and the Environment Program.   Through her role as an environmental and human rights attorney, Marcella seeks to soften the effects of the drought in Paraíba. The way she sees it, she’s helping to do so through her work on the case of the Belo Monte Dam.   “Large dams are dirty energy, and they’re damaging the Amazon rainforest, a key ecosystem that regulates climate and helps ensure it rains not just in Brazil but around the world. By working on this case, I’m fighting for the existence of rain in my State,” she explained.   Last June, Marcella paid her first visit to Altamira, the city closest to Belo Monte. She spoke with people whose way of life had been destroyed by the dam.   “I met someone who used to fish, grow his own food, and sell what was left in the city; because of the dam, his island was flooded and he lost everything.”   For Marcella, there is no better way to understand the severity of the impacts of these inadequately implemented projects than to listen to those affected by them.   “It gives me a notion of reality. Helping to get justice for these people is an obligation for me. It’s the best I can do, using the tool I know best: the law.”