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Victory: Court ends the “lawful” killing of endangered green sea turtles
In February of 1999, the Constitutional Court in Costa Rica declared an end to the "lawful" killing of endangered green sea turtles. The ruling is an important victory for the green sea turtle and potentially other species left vulnerable by their host countries.
Costa Rica has the privilege and responsibility of being a haven for one of the largest remaining populations of this endangered species of marine turtle in the Atlantic Ocean. Every two or three years, female green sea turtles, many of which are decades old, slowly plod from their ocean homes to nest on a 35 kilometer long beach between the Tortuguero and Parismina River.
Costa Rica, rather than fully protecting these ancient guests, previously had a law allowing for the capture and slaughter of almost two thousand green sea turtles annually. Unfortunately, poachers exploited the law to kill many more than the legal limit, with the survival of the sea turtles jeopardized.
In response to inaction by the Costa Rican government, and to safeguard the survival of the green sea turtle, AIDA worked through its partner organization CEDARENA to file suit and challenge the law.
In the law suit, AIDA and CEDARENA argued that the law violated the Costa Rican constitutional guarantee of an environment that is healthy and “in ecological equilibrium.” We presented hard evidence of the hidden impact of the law on the sea turtles. The Court ruled in our favor, and annulled the law.
The ruling itself does not end the threat to green sea turtles. It may however, provide some breathing room for conservationists to concentrate on stopping illegal poaching. Hopefully, they will succeed.
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“To leave for good is painful,” Flower Aria Rivera, 58, said with nostalgia. He doesn’t want to leave his land, his home. Doing so would mean leaving behind his identity, his story. Flower is from Boquerón, Colombia, a town of nearly 900 residents in the northwest department of Cesar. His ancestors, directly descended from Africans, were among the first inhabitants of his small town and many others in the region. They lived from raising cattle and growing rice. But that simple life is no more. The once-fertile soils of Boquerón have for more than 30 years been overtaken by large-scale coal mining operations. Since the corporations arrived, the town has been absorbed by coal and the many damages it leaves behind—like unhealthy levels of air pollution, and the depletion of water from rivers and other natural sources. The contamination had gotten so bad that, in 2010, the government ordered the mining company to relocate Boquerón’s residents. Eight years later, and that still hasn’t happened. On the contrary, new families have been arriving to Boquerón in search of the compensation that will surely be distributed when relocation finally does occur. “We want the mines to move, we want them to stop polluting our town,” said Flower, one of the most respected of the community, which has peacefully resisted despite the outbreak of skin and respiratory diseases. Flower is not a conventional leader. He speaks softly, while smiling. His deep black skin contrasts with his pure white hair. He’s sweet and calm and, above all, full of faith and hope. I met him two months ago when he participated with other leaders in a public forum co-organized by AIDA, Tierra Digna, CENSAT Agua Viva, University of Magdalena, the Environmental Justice Network of Colombia, and the Rosa Luxembourg Foundation. There, participants discussed what’s needed to enable Colombia to move its economy away from coal exploitation and toward alternative energies—those that respect the both climate and communities. “Coal has left us with nothing, only sadness,” Flower lamented. Colombia is the fourth largest coal exporter in the world. As such, the government has the ethical and moral obligation to reduce its carbon emissions, which have contributed to exacerbating the climate crisis. At AIDA, we believe in a clean energy future, and our work will continue to support the move towards a coal-free Latin America. To close, I’d like to share a poem Flower wrote. In it, he expresses longing and love for his land, and his fear of the “damned black stone.” A mi Boquerón Boquerón del alma mía Terruño de mis entrañas Estoy perdiendo mi alegría Mis costumbres y mis esperanzas Camino lento y con tristeza Con solo pensar en tu partida Historia mía, historia tuya Es como un llanto en noche buena Quisiera morirme en tus recuerdos Donde viví muchas nostalgias De amores y vivencias de este mundo Cómo te llevo Boquerón en el alma Voces de recuerdos se escuchan a lo lejos De un niño y un viejo Como añorando el pasado De Boquerón y sus hermosos tiempos Partir sin regreso es doloroso Y un diciembre sin ti es morir Como regresar después a pajuil Cuando mis zapatos se han roto Ya inerme camina un boqueronero Y la historia del tucuy, el manantial y la lomita está muriendo Hoy hasta el mismo cielo está llorando En gotas de agua convertidas en desespero Quisiera regresar a las faldas de mi madre Como cuando niño me escondía debajo de ella Escucho a lo lejos la voz del patriarca Rivera Ángel Que desde su tumba como deseando una esperanza Adiós diablito caño, palma y paralú donde di mi grito de libertad y olvidé mi esclavitud de mi raza palenquera y también de chambacú y olvidé por mis ancestros lo juro por ese cielo azul Maldita piedra negra Que hizo cambiar mi historia Un humilde pueblo llora La funesta partida de toda una vida
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“To leave for good is painful,” Flower Aria Rivera, 58, said with nostalgia. He doesn’t want to leave his land, his home. Doing so would mean leaving behind his identity, his story. Flower is from Boquerón, Colombia, a town of nearly 900 residents in the northwest department of Cesar. His ancestors, directly descended from Africans, were among the first inhabitants of his small town and many others in the region. They lived from raising cattle and growing rice. But that simple life is no more. The once-fertile soils of Boquerón have for more than 30 years been overtaken by large-scale coal mining operations. Since the corporations arrived, the town has been absorbed by coal and the many damages it leaves behind—like unhealthy levels of air pollution, and the depletion of water from rivers and other natural sources. The contamination had gotten so bad that, in 2010, the government ordered the mining company to relocate Boquerón’s residents. Eight years later, and that still hasn’t happened. On the contrary, new families have been arriving to Boquerón in search of the compensation that will surely be distributed when relocation finally does occur. “We want the mines to move, we want them to stop polluting our town,” said Flower, one of the most respected of the community, which has peacefully resisted despite the outbreak of skin and respiratory diseases. Flower is not a conventional leader. He speaks softly, while smiling. His deep black skin contrasts with his pure white hair. He’s sweet and calm and, above all, full of faith and hope. I met him two months ago when he participated with other leaders in a public forum co-organized by AIDA, Tierra Digna, CENSAT Agua Viva, University of Magdalena, the Environmental Justice Network of Colombia, and the Rosa Luxembourg Foundation. There, participants discussed what’s needed to enable Colombia to move its economy away from coal exploitation and toward alternative energies—those that respect the both climate and communities. “Coal has left us with nothing, only sadness,” Flower lamented. Colombia is the fourth largest coal exporter in the world. As such, the government has the ethical and moral obligation to reduce its carbon emissions, which have contributed to exacerbating the climate crisis. At AIDA, we believe in a clean energy future, and our work will continue to support the move towards a coal-free Latin America. To close, I’d like to share a poem Flower wrote. In it, he expresses longing and love for his land, and his fear of the “damned black stone.” A mi Boquerón Boquerón del alma mía Terruño de mis entrañas Estoy perdiendo mi alegría Mis costumbres y mis esperanzas Camino lento y con tristeza Con solo pensar en tu partida Historia mía, historia tuya Es como un llanto en noche buena Quisiera morirme en tus recuerdos Donde viví muchas nostalgias De amores y vivencias de este mundo Cómo te llevo Boquerón en el alma Voces de recuerdos se escuchan a lo lejos De un niño y un viejo Como añorando el pasado De Boquerón y sus hermosos tiempos Partir sin regreso es doloroso Y un diciembre sin ti es morir Como regresar después a pajuil Cuando mis zapatos se han roto Ya inerme camina un boqueronero Y la historia del tucuy, el manantial y la lomita está muriendo Hoy hasta el mismo cielo está llorando En gotas de agua convertidas en desespero Quisiera regresar a las faldas de mi madre Como cuando niño me escondía debajo de ella Escucho a lo lejos la voz del patriarca Rivera Ángel Que desde su tumba como deseando una esperanza Adiós diablito caño, palma y paralú donde di mi grito de libertad y olvidé mi esclavitud de mi raza palenquera y también de chambacú y olvidé por mis ancestros lo juro por ese cielo azul Maldita piedra negra Que hizo cambiar mi historia Un humilde pueblo llora La funesta partida de toda una vida
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We did it! We’re proud to say we recently submitted the final arguments in our case against Brazil before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. In them, we demonstrate the damages Belo Monte has caused to indigenous and traditional communities, and residents of Altamira, the city closest to the dam. We’re working for them—to bring the government of Brazil to justice. “Human rights violations are a daily occurrence for those of us affected by the dam,” explained Antônia Melo, coordinator of the Movimento Xingu Vivo para Sempre, a citizens’ collective formed in the face of the dam’s implementation. “It’s urgent that our petition before the Commission advance to sanction the government and guarantee our rights.” We argue that the damages to local communities resulted from a severe lack of foresight and inadequate evaluation, as well as from failure to comply with the conditions for operation established by the government. The many risks denounced prior to the dam’s construction have since become long-term damages—many of which have affected men and women, and youth and the elderly, in different ways. Our report documents the displacement of indigenous and traditional communities forced to leave their territories without adequate alternatives, placing their cultural survival at risk. Among the affected populations are communities dedicated to fishing, who have not yet been compensated for the loss of livelihood. The dam has caused mass die-offs of fish and, although authorities have imposed millions in fines, the report demonstrates that the underlying problem has not been resolved. Local communities now have limited use of the Xingu River as a source of food, sustenance, transportation and entertainment. We have also noted—among other serious harms—the disappearance of traditional trades, such as brickmakers and cart drivers, and of traditional cultural practices. Women, for example, have stopped giving birth in their homes and must now go to a hospital, a reality that has drastically worsened due to the oversaturation of health and education services in Altamira caused by the recent population surge. Our case is now in the hands of the Commission. They will prepare their own report, concluding whether or not human rights violations occurred as a result of the Belo Monte Dam. If violations did occur, they may issue recommendations for remediation. If Brazil fails to respond, the case may be referred to the Inter-American Court on Human Rights, which has the power to issue a ruling condemning Brazil. The completion of this report brings us—and, more importantly, the communities we represent—one big step closer to achieving justice for the many wrongs committed in the name of the Belo Monte Dam, and energy development in the Amazon.
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