Tag Archives: Minas Conga

Newmont, Nonsense and Good Faith

I’m concerned that my earlier post about John Ruggie’s Just Business may have given the misleading impression that Newmont Mining’s troubles in Cajamarca had been resolved, or that the company’s publication of a study called Listening to the City of Cajamarca had softened local opposition to Newmont and its Minas Conga project — a $5 billion project to build one of Peru’s largest gold mines. Events of this past week were a reminder just how far apart the company and the campesinos remain, and just how much work it will take to bridge the distance between them.

Water remains the central issue in Cajamarca. Protests this week focused on the mining company’s so-called Water First plan. Water First involves draining Lake Perol, one of several alpine lakes in the region around Cajamarca, to build four reservoirs. Newmont and the Peruvian government promote Water First as a socially responsible effort to increase water capacity year round throughout the region, where water supply is now subject to seasonal variation. But Wilfredo Saavedra, President of the Environmental Defense Front of Cajamarca or Frente De Defensa Ambiental de Cajamarca, says Water First puts the needs of the mining company above the rights of local communities: “The mine needs water for its project and it’s going to give us polluted water,” he told Reuters. “We want them to leave us alone with our lakes, which are enough for us.”

By Tuesday, protesters were throwing stones at police and police responded by firing rubber bullets — or, if you follow the police account, one rubber bullet. Local groups plan to occupy Lake Perol starting June 17th. It seems things in Cajamarca are about to escalate again.

A popular assembly at Lake Perol in November, 2011. Photo credit: EFE/Paolo Aguilar

A popular assembly at Lake Perol in November, 2011. Photo credit: EFE/Paolo Aguilar

In the midst of these fresh troubles, and partly due to them, Zacks, an investment research firm, issued a note downgrading Newmont to the status of underperformer. “Newmont may continue to face headwinds due to increasing mining and non-mining costs. Moreover, its production may be affected further due to geopolitical risks.” The company’s troubles in Peru and elsewhere are starting to chip away at market reputation and shareholder value.

Newmont has tried to smooth things over. In response to the violence in Cajamarca, the company issued a statement calling for the protesters “to embrace good-faith dialogue”. That is not likely to happen anytime soon. Yesterday, Marco Arana Zegarra (who has come to know the mining company over the years) said Newmont was just “playing the victim.” Overcoming skepticism and establishing good-faith dialogue in Cajamarca is going to require much more than a short exercise in public relations.

For starters, Newmont will need to repair the damage done by Roque Benavides, CEO of Buenaventura, Newmont’s partner in the Minas Conga project. On Thursday, Benavides dismissed objections to the Water First plan, pointing out that the company has not yet begun draining Lake Perol and saying the current protests make “no sense.” This is worse than insulting: it’s saying that the protests are devoid of meaning, that they are nonsense. People’s concerns and worries, their anger and their fears, the lives and the established ways of life they are trying to protect, the myths, memories and meanings they associate with Lake Perol — all of that is meaningless and without value. Now there is gold to mine.

If “Water First” puts an Orwellian twist on the mining company’s plan to appropriate the water resources of the Cajamarca region, Benavides’ statement takes us to the other side of the looking glass, where it makes more “sense” to drain a mountain lake in order to mine gold than to live, as people have lived for centuries, around the lake, making use of its waters according to the seasons.

Benavides has been a bit of a loose cannon. He infamously said that he “hates” the idea of business having to gain social license and that “he does not understand” what social license means. The remark was widely criticized, not just because it seemed callous, but also because it is tantamount to saying that in Cajamarca, Newmont, Buenaventura and their cronies in government can do as they please. Where is the good faith in that?

It’s surprising, then, that in the current situation no one at Newmont has advised Benavides — or implored him — to remove himself from the conversation and refrain from making public remarks about the situation in Cajamarca. Good-faith dialogue is only possible if both parties have an equal chance to discover and create new, shared meaning, together. There can be no dialogue, and no good faith, if one party claims all rights to do as it wishes simply because it is mighty, and rejects the position of the other as pure nonsense, simply because it is meek.

Impossible or Indigenous in Peru

QuechuaHighlands

In the post I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the Rio Tinto shareholder meeting, I mentioned a woman who spoke on behalf of the Mongolian herders whose livelihood is threatened by the Oyu Tolgoi mining project. Her name is Sukhgerel Dugersuren, and she is the Executive Director of the Mongolian NGO Oyu Tolgoi Watch. In her remarks, Dugersuren asked the company to recognize the herders as “indigenous” people (as the IFC does). That isn’t just a gesture of recognition or respect, a way of acknowledging that the herders were there first, or that they have a centuries-old claim to the land and the scarce water sources of the Gobi; it means that before moving ahead, the Oyu Tolgoi project would require – to use the language of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (Article 32, paragraph 2) — their free, prior and informed consent.

I was reminded of Dugersuren and the case of the herders when I read yesterday morning that the Humala government in Peru now intends to exclude the Quechua people of the Peruvian highlands from “prior consultation” on mining projects.

President Ollanta Humala campaigned in 2011 on the idea of “social inclusion” and specifically on giving indigenous communities a voice in the consultation period before big mining projects begin. Prior consultation — the first law Humala signed upon taking office — codified into Peruvian law the idea of free, prior and informed consent. But only two years later, with $50 billion in mining projects over the next five years at stake, and with Canadian mining giant Newmont scaling back its investments and announcing a delay in its controversial Minas Conga project, it looks as if Humala wishes he could take it all back.

QuechuaProtestConga

Apparently Mines and Energy Minister Jorge Merino has prevailed; Deputy Minister of Culture Ivan Lanegra, who was in charge of administering the prior consultation law, is now making noises about resigning.

I haven’t yet seen anything like an official statement on the matter, but Humala and other Peruvian officials have already started offering reasons – if they can be called that — for excluding the Quechua from prior consultation. They read like a bizarre exercise in bad anthropology.

Attempting to legitimize its betrayal of the Quechua, the government resorts to revisionist history, crude caricatures and discredited ideas. So, we are told, the Quechua-speaking people of the Andes can’t be indigenous, because over the centuries, they mixed with Spanish colonizers (whose abuses the law of prior consultation was supposed to help remedy). To be indigenous would seem to require a weird exemption from history – to be at once the victim of colonial abuse in need of redress and yet to live in complete isolation or perpetual flight, and never to have had any contact with the Spanish.

The people of the Andes can’t be indigenous: they practice agriculture, we are told, which makes them not indigenous people but campesinos. “In the highlands,” said Humala, parsing the difference, “there are mostly agrarian communities … indigenous communities are mostly in the jungle.” The indigenous are not farmers, but jungle dwellers, presumably hunters and gatherers who have never cultivated the land. If they till the soil or produce, it seems, they must give up all claims to their heritage, or at least their legal status.

A third and final absurdity: the people of the Andes can’t be indigenous, because they “meet in public assembly” or, as Humala has noted elsewhere, they have “mayors” who represent them, and so they are not without a “voice.” To be indigenous is to be without representation, then — silent. It goes even deeper than that: it is to be without politics, or at least without the plaza or the public square. We are, I suppose, to imagine the indigenous living in an archaic and pre-political world, where assembly is unnecessary or the public world unknown.

You can see where all this is heading. It is virtually impossible to be indigenous, unless you live in a small foraging band of jungle dwellers without any political power, or even any idea of politics. Placing these restrictions on the law of prior consultation in Peru makes a travesty of free, prior and informed consent, which requires that states deal “in good faith with the indigenous peoples concerned through their own representative institutions”; the very existence of such institutions would appear to be grounds for exclusion from the law.

Even with a law in place and gestures of good will at the start, the “indigenous” in Peru now risk being defined out of existence, or of having their right to consent sacrificed for the sake of big mining and continued growth. That is why it was especially curious and telling, in ways that are not yet wholly apparent to me, when I read this morning that just yesterday Peruvian ambassador Gonzalo Gutierrez Reinel and the Mongolian Minister of Foreign Affairs L. Bold “met to exchange views on mutual partnerships, particular[ly] in the sectors of culture and mining”: it is not at all clear that “culture” will survive the incursion of big mining in either country.