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The Observatory advocate across national boundaries and critique government positions that don't fully acknowledge the limit understanding of what impacts lithium extraction will have.

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The Observatory advocate across national boundaries and critique government positions that don't fully acknowledge the limit understanding of what impacts lithium extraction will have.

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Observatorio Plurinacional de Salares Andinos

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The Quiet Revolution: Indigenous People and the Resources Boom

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The Quiet Revolution: Indigenous People and the Resources Boom

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This is a series of lectures by Professor Marcia Langton, exploring "the dependency of Aboriginal businesses and not-for-profit corporations on the resources industry and their resultant vulnerability to economic downturns"

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The 53rd Boyer Lectures will be presented by Professor Marcia Langton AM, Chair of Australian Indigenous Studies at The University of Melbourne.

The lectures' subject will be The Quiet Revolution: Indigenous People and the Resources Boom. Prof Langton will look at the dependency of Aboriginal businesses and not-for-profit corporations on the resources industry and their resultant vulnerability to economic downturns.

Each year the ABC Board invites a prominent Australian or group of Australians to present a series of radio lectures expressing their thoughts on major social, cultural, scientific or political issues.

Chairman of the ABC Board, James Spigelman AC QC, said Marcia Langton's outstanding reputation as an Indigenous leader, educator and thinker has made her a most worthy choice for this year's Boyer Lectures.

"She has made a significant contribution to government and non-government policy, as well as to Indigenous studies at three universities. In 1993 she was made a member of the Order of Australia for her work in anthropology and advocacy of Aboriginal rights, and in 2002 she was awarded the inaugural Neville Bonner Award for Indigenous Teacher of the Year. I'm sure Marcia Langton's Boyer speeches will prove to be thought-provoking, insightful and memorable."

Prof Langton said she was honoured to be presenting the 2012 Boyer Lectures.

"When W.E.H. Stanner delivered the Boyer Lectures in 1968, After The Dreaming: Black And White Australians--An Anthropologist's View, he gave credence, perhaps inadvertently, to the widely held assumption at that time that Aboriginal life was incommensurate with modern economic life. Today, the expectation is quite the reverse.

"The emergence of an Aboriginal middle class in Australia in the last two to three decades has gone largely unnoticed. There are hundreds of Aboriginal businesses and Aboriginal not-for-profit corporations with income streams, delivering economic outcomes to communities on an unprecedented scale."

Marcia Langton has held the Foundation Chair of Australian Indigenous Studies at the University of Melbourne since February 2000. An anthropologist and geographer, she has researched Indigenous relationships with place, land tenure and environmental management, agreement-making and treaties in the Northern Territory and Cape York Peninsula.

Marcia Langton's research has been assisted by a variety of funding sources. Details (see page 11).

In this Series

Sunday 18 Nov 2012

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2012 Boyer Lectures: The Quiet Revolution: Indigenous People and the Resources Boom

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The 53rd Boyer Lectures, presented by Professor Marcia Langton AM, Chair of Australian Indigenous Studies at The University of Melbourne. The lectures' subject is The Quiet Revolution: Indigenous People and the Resources Boom. Prof Langton looks at the dependency of Aboriginal businesses and not-for-profit corporations on the resources industry and their resultant vulnerability to economic downturns.

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“we are being pushed around today and we will be pushed around tomorrow and we will be pushed around forever, and that is a fact of life”

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Informed Traditional Owners Informing the NT Government of the impacts they are concerned about

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Informed Traditional Owners Informing the NT Government of the impacts they are concerned about

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Traditional owners protesting fracking in the Northern Territory have brought drilling equipment to the front lawns of the Northern Territory's parliament.

They say they want to let politicians know how it feels to have unwelcome machinery on your land, and that they have not given their consent for gas companies to undertake exploration on their country.

Wednesday marks one year since the Northern Territory government lifted the moratorium on fracking. The moratorium was announced in 2016, shortly after the Labor government took office.

Fracking - shorthand for hydraulic fracturing - involves injecting fluid into underground rock at a high pressure to open cracks and force the release of gas.

Conrad Rory, a 32-year-old Borroloola resident, told BuzzFeed News the protest aimed to show politicians how fracking exploration would affect Aboriginal communities.

"We're trying to protect our country and protect our water," he said.

Rory sat in the seat of the mini-bulldozer as the group cordoned off an area of the grass and began to drill.

Rory said he fears that fracking could contaminate water and animals, ultimately leading to Aboriginal communities being moved to urban centres like Darwin and Alice Springs.

The decision to lift the fracking ban followed a 15-month scientific inquiry chaired by Justice Rachel Pepper. The final report did not make a recommendation either way about lifting or keeping the fracking ban. However, it said that if its 135 recommendations were adopted the risks of fracking could be reduced to acceptable levels. Chief minister Michael Gunner has said that all recommendations will be implemented.

Rory said the report is "based on predictions and assumptions" that he does not trust.

The report noted that there was "strong antipathy" for fracking during consultations. The "overwhelming consensus" of a "significant majority" of inquiry participants was that fracking "is not safe, is not trusted and is not wanted", the report said.

In 2017, the federal government placed pressure on the NT government to open up fracking, threatening to shake up GST distribution for jurisdictions that limited the practice.

The federal government announced the NT would get $260 million extra in GST and $550 million for remote housing several days after the moratorium was lifted.

Both governments have denied the funding was linked to the lifted ban, but then treasurer Scott Morrison's letter offering the NT the GST increase referred to the decision.

Rory said he wants fracking to be banned entirely. "Just stop it completely," he said. "What letter between N and O don't they understand?"

Got a confidential tip? Submit it here.

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Indigenous Traditional Owners Drilled Parliament Lawns To Show Politicians What It Feels Like

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Traditional owners protesting fracking in the Northern Territory have brought drilling equipment to the front lawns of the Northern Territory's parliament. They say they want to let politicians know how it feels to have unwelcome machinery on your land, and that they have not given their consent for gas companies to undertake exploration on their country.

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Together We Can Be in a Healthy Environment is a community organisation mobilising against megamining in Jujuy, over the border in Argentina. In contrast to other community groups, they have taken a very strong and absolutely resistant position to lithium mining in their area.

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Juntos Podemos en un ambiente sano. 1,087 likes · 1 talking about this. Defendemos el ambiente, difundimos conductas ecológicas, plantamos árboles, reciclamos. Sin padrinos políticos ni empresarios,...

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Despite the intense State repression of Mapuche resistance, the global solidarity movement working to support their demands is thriving. Amongst activist and indigenous struggles they are one of the most well known Indigenous nations fighting for autonomy today.

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"Citizen network composed of diverse actors of the Andean region for the recognition and defense of the salt mines, as opposed to the extractivism of lithium"

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Observatorio Plurinacional de Salares Andinos

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Observatorio Plurinacional de Salares Andinos, Antofagasta. 924 likes · 16 talking about this. Red ciudadana compuesta de diversos actores de la región andina por el reconocimiento y defensa de los...

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BALANCE BETWEEN CULTURE AND COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT

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BALANCE BETWEEN CULTURE AND COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT

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The complexity of existing as an Indigenous community member posited inextricably in the web of contemporary resource extraction is unending. As Jorge Muñoz, of the Solcor community in the Atacama explained, his community is always in a balance, figuring out their identity according to an external force. Whether the Incan empire, the Spanish colonisers, the Chilean Republic, or the extractive forces that began to explore and cement themselves in Atacama territory from the late 1970s, Atacameños communities have had to continuously negotiate how each new externality relates to their world.

This is no simple task: as Jorge mentioned, it took his community three decades to understand lithium in their cultural imaginary. The extractive process started out invisible; no one was informed of the process occuring. As the years have progressed, and the impacts of brine extraction have begun to surface, young Atacameños like Jorge have sought to inform themselves, and turn the tide of communities being ill or misinformed in making decisions around the extraction happening on their land.

In 2016, the Solcor community signed an agreement with Albemarle whereby they would receive 3% of extraction profits, in exchange for their consent to lithium being mined. This has been a significant milestone, as the community are now receiving a huge revenue, but many challenges have persisted, demonstrating that financial compensation is not the end of road for those affected by mining, but the beginning of a new phase. Just a few examples of these challenges illuminate how leaders like Jorge must negotiate a myriad of positions, mechanisms and trade offs in accommodating lithium extraction on his land.

Since the initiation of revenue, there has appeared a pattern of secrecy and exclusivity of information between leaders of different Atacameños communities. As the influence of revenue filters in, communication channels have obscured. Simultaneously, the navigation of polarised opinions within the community remains. While some people have formed identities enmeshed in the mining industry, and advocate for its benefits, there are also those who are more connected to cultural, ancestral and traditional community needs. This polarisation has only deepened with the new agreement with Albemarle as more resources flow into the community, both increasing the benefits of the mine’s presence, and entrenching its place in the salt flats.

One of the biggest tasks Jorge and his community faced was the difficulty of initially interpreting and communicating the details of the agreement they signed with Albemarle. This parallels with the lack of information that the Solcor community was provided about the lithium extraction process. People feel the need to make the extraction process more culturally and environmentally sustainable, and the creation of the Plurinational Observatory of Salt Flats was integral to this process. Researching the depth and extent of the impacts of lithium mining, this organisation is essential in supporting communities like Jorge’s in exercising a management role in the future of the mine.

The pressures placed on community’s like Jorge’s to navigate decision making, resource management and community division is huge. The integrity of community organising structures is paramount in informed collective decision making, and the loss or obscurity of communication channels remains a challenge to overcome. Supporting structures like the Observatory are essential in expanding the capacity of communities to make informed decisions, and take precautionary action in managing their land.

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Outside interference in affairs relating to Indigenous developmental negotiations can be a dangerous way in which NGOs, corporations, or governments - no matter how well-intentioned their organisations appear to be - can cause more harm than good, pursuant of their own agendas at the expense of Indigenous self-determination.

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Latina Lista: News from the Latinx perspective

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By Mark Betancourt
First People's Worldwide

In an open letter sent from a pan-Amazon meeting on climate change and Indigenous Peoples, Brazilian Indigenous leader declared, "we are tired of anthropologists, environmentalists, church-related organizations, and other specialists speaking for us and using us for their self-interest. Please respect our self-determination to make our own decisions." This statement echoes the sentiments of Indigenous Peoples around the world as they struggle to make self-determination a central tenet of the Indigenous rights movement.

Among the most insidious challenges Indigenous leaders face is from organizations that claim to advocate for Indigenous communities but end up doing more harm than good.

Many non-Indigenous grantmaking and advocacy organizations try to address Indigenous problems through their own agendas, and without ever consulting the communities they are meant to support. Often these organizations receive funding while Indigenous groups are left to fend for themselves. Without the freedom and resources to make their own decisions, Indigenous Peoples remain essentially enslaved to outside interests.

The recent history of the Itika Guasu Guaraní in Bolivia, who are represented by their own organization, the Assembly of the Guaraní People of Itika Guasu (APG IG), is a prime example of the dangers of outside interference in Indigenous affairs, and demonstrates the enormous benefits of Indigenous self-determination.

In 1997, the Spanish oil and gas company Repsol began the exploration and drilling of massive gas reserves located in Guaraní territory. This was done without the community's consent, and caused environmental damage that directly threatened the Guaraní way of life. APG IG enlisted the help of outside non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to defend their land rights. Because conflict with these organizations is a source of ongoing hardship for APG IG and its community, we have been asked not to name them here.

Despite Repsol's clear violations of Bolivian law, the intermediary organizations advised APG IG not to take legal action against the company, claiming that any such effort would inevitably fail. APG IG later learned that the major funder of these organizations was also a consultant to Repsol, and that it was being funded by the Bolivian government, as well as other governments that stood to profit from Repsol's operations.

This kind of experience is typical for Indigenous Peoples worldwide. Outside NGOs supposedly acting on behalf of Indigenous Peoples siphon millions of dollars away from communities while pursuing agendas that often work against the communities' best interests. In the meantime, Indigenous organizations like APG IG are often overlooked by funders, and ignored by governments, corporations and international development institutions.

But rather than give in to Repsol, APG IG's board of directors consulted with Spain-based human rights organization Equipo Nizkor, which helped the community develop a long-term legal strategy for the Guaraní to retain control of their land. Equipo Nizkor also offered to provide training and education that would help the community make informed decisions about how to protect its sovereignty over its territory.

The original intermediary NGOs, who were supposed to be advocates for APG IG, immediately criticized this new strategy, and began withdrawing their support. With no access to funding of its own, APG IG was paralyzed. It was critical that the organization involve its entire community in decision-making, but there was no money for travel between the many remote Guaraní villages.

At that time First Peoples Worldwide, an Indigenous-led grantmaking organization based in the United States, provided APG IG with a grant of US$11,124 through its Keepers of the Earth Fund. With this relatively modest grant, the organization traveled to each of the villages, the community came together to make an informed decision, and APG IG was able to reach an agreement with Repsol and two other oil companies, British Gas and E&P, a representative of British Petroleum. The agreement officially recognized the Guaraní's rights to their land and created an Itika Guasu Investment Fund of US$14.8 million to benefit Guaraní communities in the region.

Clearly, relationships with outside advocacy organizations can be of vital importance to Indigenous groups. Without the expertise of Equipo Nizkor, APG IG could not have made an informed decision about its community's future. Without First Peoples Worldwide, the community could not have raised the funding it needed on its own. But unlike the intermediaries that tried to sabotage APG IG's efforts, Equipo Nizkor and First Peoples Worldwide did not attempt to make any decisions for the Guaraní. In the end, the community was able to use tools provided by its allies to choose its own course.

"The thing to retain here is that no NGO may replace the Indigenous authorities," says Gregorio Dionis, president of Equipo Nizkor, speaking through an interpreter.

"We give a lot of importance to the legal strategy and to the training and education of community members," he says. "As a consequence you get empowerment and consolidation of the structure of the community."

As in the case of APG IG, corporations can become allies to Indigenous communities when both parties have equal footing. First Peoples Worldwide not only provides grants directly to Indigenous organizations, it also engages with corporations, educating companies about Indigenous communities and issues while giving them an opportunity to contribute positively to Indigenous development by funding our grants.

First Peoples Worldwide has had tremendous success with its Traditional and Contemporary Self Governance initiative, funded by Shell in 2011, which awarded grants to communities that are taking steps to enhance their internal decision-making processes. In funding this initiative, Shell had clear intentions to support Indigenous self-determination, forge closer relationships with Indigenous communities, and garner lessons that could inform interactions between Indigenous Peoples and outside entities in the future. Nearly $200,000 was granted to 18 communities, and the results of their projects will form a webinar that will be distributed to Shell, the World Bank and the United Nations, as well as to Indigenous groups worldwide.

APG IG has shown that successful community development depends not on where funding comes from, but on the framework of values and strategies with which it is given. Any funder that supports the community's right to make its own decisions, whether it is a foreign NGO, a government, or a corporation, can be an invaluable ally to the community. On the other hand, even the most well-intentioned organization will inevitably cause more harm than good if it fails to respect the community's wishes and its right to determine its own future.

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Guaraní People vs. Repsol: The Importance of Indigenous Self-Determination

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By Mark Betancourt First People's Worldwide In an open letter sent from a pan-Amazon meeting on climate change and Indigenous Peoples, Brazilian Indigenous leader declared, "we are tired of anthropologists, environmentalists, church-related organizations, and other specialists speaking for us and using us for their self-interest. Please respect our self-determination to make our own decisions."

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Meanwhile, down south in Araucania and Bio Bio

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Meanwhile, down south in Araucania and Bio Bio

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The future of relationships between Indigenous communities and extractive industries in the Atacama has a trajectory that is both potentially very beneficial to local communities, and permanently transformative for the environment, as lithium extraction continues to expand and Chuiquicamata begins to go underground.

However, much can be said for the stark contrast between dealings between Indigenous communities and corporations in the desert, when compared to similar relationships in Mapuche territory, down south in the Araucania and Bio Bio regions. While relations between Atacameños communities and corporations may at time be tense, as negotiations are settled, at no point have these communities been demonised or repressed in the manner that the Mapuche have experienced. The use of Pinochet-era anti-terror laws create a stark contrast between Atacameños and Mapuche territory.

There are too many variables to conclude exactly why these Indigenous territories are treated so differently by the State and corporate interests, but the outcomes are extreme. Perhaps it is the absolute defense of territory and demand for autonomy that the Mapuche are seeking that precipitated the State to initiate special military forces to surveil and repress Mapuche activists. Perhaps it is the demands required of the extractive industries in the Atacama - large scale, long term land appropriation for mining, large scale water extraction and energy production - versus the seasonal, transient and adaptive nature of the forestry industry the Mapuche oppose.

Regardless, the contrast is extreme, and the price that the State is making the Mapuche community pay for their pursuit of autonomy remains fatally high. As Claudio's father and many other Indigenous people have learnt over time, where extractive interests align with State interests and the pursuit of capital, absolute resistance comes at a price.

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The openMovements series invites leading social scientists to share their research results and perspectives on contemporary social struggles.
Social movements in Chile in the post-dictatorship era present an interesting and varied diversity.

The Mapuche movement has been, in this scenario, an ever-present actor, which has stood out for its ability to institutionalize much of its political demands (e.g., Acuerdo de Nueva Imperial -1989- [the New Imperial Accord of 1989]; Ley Indígena 1993- [the Indigenous Law of 1993]; Ratificación Convenio 169 OIT -2008 [the Ratification Convention 169 OIT of 2008]). The movement is also notable for their ability to make their demands resonate within the logic of media discourse.

For their part, in the last few decades, other important social movements have demonstrated a great capacity for intervening in the national political agenda. Perhaps the most prominent in that sense has been the student movement which, beginning in the year 2006 and with greater force in 2011, was established as a powerhouse of political thought like no other in the country.

Equally remarkable is the trajectory of the anti-extractivist movement in the last few years. This movement was set up in the heat of the struggles against Pascua Lama, the red tides in Chiloe, and the Port Project in Punta de Choros.

Somewhat closer in time is the emergence of the NO AFP movement and at present, an unavoidable reference is the feminist student movement that, during the first semester of 2018, managed to paralyze both universities and high schools, as a part of an intense fight against the patriarchy, abuse, and gender violence in the Chilean educational system.

Up to this point, the solidarity between the Mapuche movement and the other social movements has not been very close

Up to this point, the solidarity between the Mapuche movement and the other social movements has not been very close. Neither has the ability of Chilean society in general to understand and meet the demands of the indigenous people, or to repudiate the strong state repression on the movement applied from 2000 to the present, been very deep. Repression that includes, by the way, more than a dozen activists killed by security forces.

Such are the cases of Alex Lemún, who was murdered at the age of 17 in 2002, while he was occupying land; or Matías Catrileo, murdered at age 23 in 2008, when he also participated in an occupation with other Mapuche community members; just to note some of the most renowned.

However, this lack of social articulation seems to be currently reversing. The assassination of the Mapuche community member Camilo Catrillanca on November 14, 2018 became the focus of important examples of solidarity and political support from different sectors of Chilean society and represented a point of rapproachement between various social movements.

Likewise, social networks have been plagued with posts and tweets repudiating the case, and the mobilizations sustained for several days in the country's capital were massive and intense (also intense, of course, was the police repression of these movements).

Regarding the case of Catrillanca, Chilean society expressed, through banners and flags, a clear solidarity with the Mapuche cause and a strong rejection of the state violence against these native people. Many pot-banging protests ( cacerolazos) were held in downtown Santiago, demanding that the political authorities assume responsibility and contribute to the clarification of the truth and the attainment of justice.

Regarding the case of Catrillanca, Chilean society expressed a clear solidarity with the Mapuche cause and a strong rejection of the state violence against these native people.

Certainly, the behavior of the Judiciary, the media, and political elites in the face of the situation was quite scandalous. Initially, prosecutors and the media limited themselves to pointing out that Camilo had taken a bullet to his head while driving a tractor in the vicinity of the community of Temucuicui, in Araucanía. They indicated that Camilo was "in the middle of" an operation conducted by the Carabineros to recover three vehicles that had been stolen in the area a few hours prior.

The governmental authorities, on the other hand, imprudently gave as definitive the version of the story told by the Carabineros. Although, soon the responsibility for the force used in that case became evident, as well as the disproportionality of the Carabineros' operation (helicopters, armored tanks, and the deployment of the special "Jungle Command" Carabineros group).

It also became public knowledge that a Carabineros official intentionally destroyed the video card that contained the recording of the murder, although recently videos that make the responsibility for the act clear have come to light.

Faced with this, the government and police versions began to contradict each other, each entity trying to distance itself from taking responsibility in the case.

As a result, the regional authority Luis Mayol ended up resigning before an imminent constitutional accusation against him, and General Christian Franzani of the Carabineros was discharged because Sargent Alarcón, one of the Carabineros accused of the homicide of Catrillanca, declared that he had been "induced to lie and to give false statements."

The Executive branch requested the resignation of the General Director of the Carabineros, Hermes Soto, who refused to resign and forced his dismissal to be enacted through a special Congressional session called specifically for that purpose.

Likewise, demands for the Minister of the Interior, Andrés Chadwick, to resign have grown to massive proportions on social networks. Chadwick, demonstrating an almost criminal arrogance, did not refrain from making provocative statements and displaying a lack of respect for the victims' families.

However, these types of actions are not very different from those observed in prior cases of Mapuche murders. Thus, the solidarity offered by different areas of Chilean society for the Mapuche cause deserves to be explained by other factors, perhaps of a deeper and more structural dimension.

There is a rapprochement between the demands of the Mapuche movement with the student movement, on the one hand, and with the environmental movement, on the other.

We argue that the aforementioned solidarities are the expression of a process of rapprochement between the demands and trajectories of the Mapuche movement with the student movement, on the one hand, and with the environmental movement, on the other.

In fact, the 2011 student movement functioned like a connecting channel between the university youth and the Mapuche youth. Although it is an under-investigated topic, there were many Mapuche students who nurtured that epic student movement.

From the 1990s on, the weichafe (warrior) figure has become the main character of the Mapuche story, but the sociological profile of that figure has been principally that of a young person (between 17 and 30 years old), male[1], and, in many cases, is or has been a university student.

As such, the young activists of the Mapuche movement have seldom stayed away from the Chilean student mobilization. Indeed, Camilo Carrillanca himself was a dynamic spokesperson during the processes of student mobilization in the Ercilla region during the politicized years of 2011 and 2012.

At the same time, thanks to its democratic character and its opening of dialogue, the 2011 student movement generated communication channels with the Mapuche people's demands. The primary leader of that movement, Camila Vallejo, expressed it thus on many occasions. Even recently, she spoke publicly in her role as a Deputy against the militarization of the Mapuche territory and "the policies of extermination" carried out against the Mapuche people.

In this context, it is understood that the university strikes and paralyzations are counted as part of the massive claims over the death of the Mapuche community member. There are cases of these at the Universidad Austral de Valdivia, the Universidad Católica de Temuco, the Universidad de Chile, and the Universidad de la Serena.

Deforestation in the Patagonian regions and the scarcity of water led to the Mapuches' demands taking on a dimension of environmental conservation and fighting for environmental rights.

At the same time, within the framework of the expansion of the agroforestry model and the environmental problems generated by the salmon industry, the Mapuche movement has increasingly become a field of resonance for environmental problems.

The intense deforestation in the Patagonian regions and the scarcity of water that exotic crops are producing led to the Mapuches' demands increasingly taking on a dimension of environmental conservation and fighting for environmental rights.

For its part, the environmental movement has presented, during the last time, a series of interesting approaches to the reality lived by the people and the Mapuche movement. The recent assassination of the environmental activist Alejandro Castro put this movement in front of a particularly similar situation - although different - that the Mapuche movement has been facing for some time.

To understand these questions in greater detail, we will do a quick review of the trajectory of the Mapuche movement during the last few decades, as well as its relationships with the state and capital.

Intertwined movements

In 1977, the Chilean dictatorship enacted Decree 701, aimed at promoting the development of the forest industry. Today this industry maintains billing levels that represent about 2.5% of the national GDP.

It does so, however, at the cost of appropriating huge territorial extensions, expelling communities, destroying the ecosystems and native forests, and using huge amounts of water, leaving the people with serious problems with access to water.

Only two businesses - Forestal Arauco and Mininco S.A. - are owners of 2 million hectares, mainly concentrated in the historical Mapuche territory, in the south of Chile.

As the Mapuche historian Fernando Pairican points out, during the nineties, the growth of exotic forests (eucalyptus and pines) occurred in parallel with the growth of militant youth and a Mapuche organization aware of the importance of their struggles and the defense of their territories. In that climate, a radicalized militancy emerged that did not refrain from resorting to the burning of crops and forestry trucks as a way to expel companies from their territories.

Historically, governments have chosen to interpret the Mapuche demand as a "threat" to public order and, consequently, as a security problem.

Far from understanding the Mapuche demand as a legitimate claim, a human right, and a historically-rooted demand in response to the expropriations and the violence that the Chilean state has perpetrated on that people during the euphemistically denominated "pacification of the Araucanía", the governments of the Concertación and the last governments of Michelle Bachelet and Sebastián Piñera have chosen to interpret that demand as a "threat" to public order and, consequently, as a security problem.

The business world and the Chilean state quickly understood that this hindered the possibilities for capital reproduction and, as a result, resorted to repression, vigilance, prosecution, and even criminalization of social protest.

The government has insistently made use of anti-terrorism legislation (also bequeathed by the dictatorship) to address actions that are not only political acts, rather than criminal acts, but also are not part of this legal classification, because they are not intended to generate fear.

Thus, the Chilean state has used the social conflict generated within the framework of the dispossession of the Mapuche people to produce a discourse akin to the doctrine of "new threats" promoted by the Pentagon: a military, governmental, and security logic aimed at constructing enemies as diffuse as they are unreal (terrorists, narco-terrorism, organized crime) but which, nevertheless, while they are presented as imminent dangers to "national security," justify the growing militarization of civic life.

In this context, for the last two decades, violent and intimidating raids on the communities have been carried out continuously and systematically, fixed checkpoints and surveillance have been implemented throughout the Araucanía region, and they have even mounted Intelligence services operations and have made accusations that end in outrageous episodes of implantation of false evidence (e.g., The recent Operation Huracán and Operation Andes).

The result of this dynamic has been the arrest (many times without reliable evidence) of activists and in reference to the Mapuche movement, the assassination of various community members and the disappearance of many others. In most cases, it involves young people, men, and active defenders of the cause of their people.

It is in this historical trajectory that the referenced murder of Camilo Catrillanca is framed; and it is in this context that the aforementioned converges with the emerging environmental movement.

In fact, in mid-2018, news about the extremely high levels of pollution reached in the communities of Quintero and Puchuncaví, located about 150 kilometers northwest of Santiago, emerged with force in the media.

The Ventanas Complex is concentrated there, a dense industrial node that has turned the region into a truly sacrificial zone. A study carried out by the Environmental Department of the Medical College, showed that the inhabitants of the area are exposed to different toxic substances such as nitrobenzene, methyl chloroform (trichloroethane), nitrobenzene, toluene, and isobutane.

The contact with these substances increases the risk of developing different types of cancer, such as bronchopulmonary, bladder, renal, urinary tract, liver, or skin, as well as the risk of myocardial infarction and cerebrovascular accidents.

The anti-extractivist and local movement strongly raised its voice against these violations of citizens' environmental rights. Powers as strong as they are dark let their effects be seen. On October 4, 2018, in the vicinity of Valparaíso, the fisherman, union leader, and leader of the protests in Quintero, Alejandro Castro, was hanged. His death has not yet been explained.

In the first days of November, a number of social-environmental organizations from the municipalities in the Valparaíso region - among which the Cabildo Abierto Quintero-Puchuncaví was particularly notable, called for a mobilization for the 15th of that month, under the slogan, "No more sacrificial zones. May the territories rise up and exercise sovereignty."

The objective of the mobilization was to demand the recovery of the territory and to stop contaminating mega-projects, such as environmental exploitation initiatives, but it also adopted some of the demands of the Mapuche movement.

Even so, the murder of Camilo Catrillanca on the 14th changed the scenario. From there, the originally scheduled mobilization took on, with much greater force, the claims against the militarization of the Araucanía region and the demands for an end to the violence and criminalization of the Mapuche people, granting them equal or greater importance than the claims against pollution in Quintero and Puchuncavi.

According to the declarations of the Cabildo Abierto Quintero-Puchuncaví, its leaders made the necessary arrangements so that "the mobilization was of a peaceful and family nature," but Santiago's City Hall denied the permit and, therefore, the crowd that gathered at six thirty in the afternoon in Plaza Italia could not march. Police repression, using tear gas and "guanacos,"[2] began in the first hour of the mobilization.

Many demonstrators ran through Bustamante Park and barricaded the surrounding streets. Bicycles rented for public use and a Transantiago bus were set on fire. Hundreds of people came out to show their discomfort in the face of impunity for the murder of Camilo Catrillanca.
A burning barricade set by protesters aganist the handling of Casmilo Castrillanca's case. Image: courtesy of the author. All rights reserved.
Many wore Mapuche costumes, others carried flags. Most were young, but there were also older adults and children. Thus, the student, environmental, and Mapuche social mobilizations seem to be converging in the present, generating an expansive effect on the whole of Chilean society.

Looking Forward

Faced with this scenario, we argue that this is a moment of cleavage in the history of the social movements of Chilean society. A time in which, finally, the different struggles that these people have been constructing and rebuilding continuously, throughout the almost three decades that have passed since the end of the dictatorship, seem to be synergistically articulated.

Solidarities and political support are as much needed by the Mapuche movement as by society in general.

In the end, it would seem that the Mapuche people's historical demands are beginning to be understood by a society that until very recently was unable to listen to the cries of the Mapuche people; mounted, not infrequently, on the reproduction of fallacies by the governmental and the media, about the terrorist characteristics of that activism.

In short, these solidarities and political support are as much needed by the Mapuche movement as by society in general that, without a wide range of alliances, found it difficult to overcome the authoritarian, neoliberal, and individualist enclaves that the almost twenty years of dictatorship bequeathed to them.

[1] Millaleo, Ana (2014), "Mujer y sexualidad mapuche, la cotidianeidad olvidada tras la identidad weichafe", Mapuexpress, available at: http://www.mapuexpress.org/?p=195

[2] The water trucks used by the police to disperse demonstrators during protests are known by this name.

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New solidarity for the Mapuche indigenous movement in today's Chile

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The openMovements series invites leading social scientists to share their research results and perspectives on contemporary social struggles. Social movements in Chile in the post-dictatorship era present an interesting and varied diversity.

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Clare Land and Gary Foley came together to reflect on how non-Indigenous allies in Australia can work alongside Indigenous struggles without colonising the space (yet again). This review frames this dynamic in illuminating terms: The roots of the tensions between Aboriginal people and some environmental activists may be that these potential supporters come to the relationship through an interest that is primarily environmental. Aboriginal people who belong to the area may be seen as an unexpected element, even an impediment to the business of protecting a certain species or habitat. The idea that Aboriginal people would claim a right to have a say over the campaign and its tactics can be confronting to some.

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Aboriginal people are at the forefront of many environmental campaigns around Australia. However, managing the relationship with environmental allies can become a struggle in itself. In her new book Decolonizing Solidarity, Clare Land explores the dynamics between these two groups who together could become a more powerful force.

Recent protests from a subset of AFL fans and a handful of retired non-Aboriginal sportsmen that the anti-Adam Goodes booing is not racist has had me thinking how something very similar has been known to play out between Aboriginal people and non-Aboriginal activists, including some environmental activists/campaigners.

Aboriginal people are at the forefront of many land-protection campaigns around Australia. At times they have issued direct calls to environmental activists to support them in their attempts to resist the plans of pushy miners or property developers.

However, managing the relationship with supporters can itself be a huge and exhausting task. This is because although many supporters have the best intentions, some may lack the background knowledge required to form successful alliances with Aboriginal people. Many do not seek alliances with Aboriginal people, and the relevance of such alliances might not be immediately obvious.

The roots of the tensions between Aboriginal people and some environmental activists may be that these potential supporters come to the relationship through an interest that is primarily environmental. Aboriginal people who belong to the area may be seen as an unexpected element, even an impediment to the business of protecting a certain species or habitat. The idea that Aboriginal people would claim a right to have a say over the campaign and its tactics can be confronting to some.

This is frustrating for many politically active Aboriginal people because they have had these arguments over and over again since the 1960s. In a discussion of several campaigns he'd been involved in, Gary Foley wrote that this felt like "having to re-invent the wheel for each new generation of non-Koori supporters".

I have just spent several years looking into relationships between Aboriginal people from the south east Australian land rights movement and their supporters. The results of this research are about to be published in a book, Decolonizing Solidarity: Dilemmas and Directions for Supporters of Indigenous Struggles. The research was inspired by Foley's frustration about having to deal with these recurrent tensions within campaigns.

In the Mirrar people's campaign against the Jabiluka uranium mine in the late 1990s I saw first-hand that when it was suggested that members of Jabiluka Action Group (Melbourne) were acting racist, they protested extremely strongly. The conversation didn't progress very far.

I observed another unsatisfying outcome unfold during the Black GST's Stolenwealth Games Campaign in 2006. The campaign centred around a convergence of Aboriginal people and supporters at King's Domain in central Melbourne, when supporters were asked to support during the day but not camp over at night, many immediately quit the campaign.

It seemed to me that when Aboriginal people attempted to shape the mode of their supporters' work, this was often rejected. However, this is not always the case. Robbie Thorpe - who campaigned with environmental activists in the Goolengook struggle - has suggested that ferals are often the quickest to come to terms with the sort of politics he speaks. It is quite interesting to ponder why this would be so.

Decolonizing Solidarity is intended to be thought-provoking and ultimately supportive of people's struggles against greed and exploitation. I'm looking forward to hearing what greenies think of the book.

Clare Land is a non-Aboriginal person living on Kulin nation land. She has been an active supporter of Aboriginal struggles since 1998 and, with Robbie Thorpe (Gunai/Maar), a broadcaster on 3CR since 2004. She was a participant in the Jabiluka blockade, the Irati Wanti campaign, the Black GST and has worked for ANTaR Victoria.

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Decolonising solidarity: how to not be accidentally annoying and racist when working with Indigenous people

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Recent protests from a subset of AFL fans and a handful of retired non-Aboriginal sportsmen that the anti-Adam Goodes booing is not racist has had me thinking how something very similar has been known to play out between Aboriginal people and non-Aboriginal activists, including some environmental activists/campaigners.

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An Aboriginal community is calling for a halt to exploratory drilling preparations on their traditional lands by a Gina Rinehart-linked company, claiming they weren't properly consulted by the peak body representing them.

However, the chief executive of the Northern Land Council (NLC), has defended his organisation, and blames the "confusion" on a two-year delay between traditional owners giving permission and the permits being granted, as well as "intervention by third-party groups".

Residents from the region around the Alawa and Mangarrayi lands in the Northern Territory on Tuesday confronted a meeting at Mataranka, about 100km south of Katherine.

The group, backed by the Northern Territory Frack Free Alliance, has demanded the NLC reveal which traditional owners gave permission for the original permits, accusing the council of seeking out people it knew would be supportive, regardless of whether they held appropriate seniority in the community.

Only one signatory is believed to be publicly known, senior Mangarrayi traditional owner Sheila Conway, and she has since reneged her support, claiming she did not understand what she was signing. Conway is unable to read or write.

In a letter handed to the NLC chief executive, Joe Morrison, on Tuesday, lawyers acting on behalf of Conway called for a halt to all meetings with Mangarrayi traditional owners about the exploration permit until the agreements had been provided.

In March 2015, the NT government granted the region's first petroleum exploration permits on Aboriginal land. One, covering areas within the Alawa land trust and the Mangarrayi land trust, was granted to Jacaranda Minerals and Minerals Australia, a subsidiary of Gina Rinehart's Hancock Prospecting.
Muckaty landowners say nuclear dump fight is 'back to square one'
The permit areas are near the Mataranka Hot Springs, as well as Elsey station and Roper River. Pastoralists and tourism operators have also expressed their concern at the proposed drilling.

The NLC said at the time, in a report in Land Rights News, that traditional owners had given consent for about 51% of the land originally applied for, and exclusion zones set out around creeks, rivers and residences.

But those now opposed claim there wasn't adequate explanation of the scale of the works involved beyond the exploratory stage, or the risks involved. They also claim there were no interpreters available for the old people, nor family members allowed in discussion, leading to a lack of informed consent.

"A lot of the people up here don't know what a gas mine is, they don't know much about mining and were asked to sign papers on something they don't know anything about," Simone Baker, granddaughter of Conway and member of the Mangarrayi land trust, told Guardian Australia.

"None of our elders are [reading or writing well]. My nanna can barely spell her name let alone read a piece of legislation or a contract," said Conway.

Through her granddaughter acting as translator, Sheila Conway told Guardian Australia she was concerned she wasn't properly informed and was distressed about having signed an agreement which could lead to fracking on the land.

"I was thinking about the country and the water systems and the kids that are still growing up and if they would have a future on the country," she said.

Conway has previously told the ABC she was not consulted at all.

Morrison declined to comment on the legal letter, but told Guardian Australia the consultations with traditional owners were "extensive", and all consent and non-consent decisions regarding the exploration permit were "fully informed". He said "competent bilingual traditional owners" assisted the NLC with delivering information.

"The Northern Land Council has no position either for or against fracking," said Morrison.

"The information given at consultation meetings was extensive, but neutral. Traditional Owners were fully informed about the processes of fracking and about all known possible environmental consequences. That TOs took this information on board is evidenced by their decision to refuse exploration over approximately 50% of the land applied for, including all watercourses, communities, living areas and sacred sites."

Morrison said the agreement signed between the mining company and the NLC (on behalf of the traditional owners) was confidential and would not be released, but the detail of it was explained to attendees of Tuesday's meeting, and repeatedly during consultations between 2010 and 2013.

The Northern Territory Frack Free Alliance has criticised the NLC's "one size fits all" consultation process, noting a different system of land management and decision making specific to the tribes within the affected area.

The organisation urged the NLC to walk back from its decision, as it did with the controversial proposed nuclear dump at Muckaty Station.

Naomi Wilfred, an Indigenous engagement officer from the nearby community of Jilkminggan, said she believed the old people wouldn't have approved the license if they were fully informed.

"We don't like having a gas mine come through on our land," Wilfred said in a video filmed by the Frack Free Alliance.

"We didn't know about this project going to happen. It didn't come through the right channel, it didn't come through and negotiate with everyone in the community."

At an NLC meeting earlier this month, the NLC chair, Samuel Bush-Blenasi, told attendees his organisation provided information to landowners so they could make the right decision.

"If you don't make the right decision, that's your fault. Our role is to make sure you get the right information," said Bush-Blenasi.

He told people to stop blaming the NLC for problems on their land and in their communities, and defended the council's decision-making process.

Fracking in the Northern Territory is shaping up to be a divisive issue ahead of the August 27 election.

A coalition of Indigenous groups, pastoralists and tourism operators have protested against fracking for shale gas in the NT, but an independent review last year found fracking can occur safely in the region with stronger regulatory frameworks and safeguards in place.

The Labor opposition has promised a moratorium on fracking if elected, for which the CLP government has accused it of already damaging business confidence.

* This article was amended on 29 June 2016. An earlier version said the community group was supported by the Environment Centre NT. It is the Northern Territory Frack Free Alliance.
Topics

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Aboriginal landowners criticise Northern Land Council over drill permit

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An Aboriginal community is calling for a halt to exploratory drilling preparations on their traditional lands by a Gina Rinehart-linked company, claiming they weren't properly consulted by the peak body representing them.

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Representation of Early Impacts of Extraction

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Representation of Early Impacts of Extraction

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Embrace of the Serpent, 2015 film directed by Ciro Guerra, explores the early impacts of the colonisation of the Colombian Amazon, and further impacts as the rubber industry expanded through Indigenous territory. This scene is powerful in the connection between the shaman Nilbio Torres and young children who are losing their culture under the pressure of Catholic assimilation doctrines that have removed them from their land.

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This is the book referenced in the 'the conversation' (see link) and likewise talks about and refers to cases

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green alliances or relations with environmentalists is not simply one characterised as either good or bad. there are multitude factors and considerations when thinking about how indigenous people assert their needs and whether those needs can be supported by environmentalist or not.

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In Australia and across the world, Indigenous people are resisting developments that threaten their lands. Wangan and Jagalingou people stand in opposition to the planned Carmichael coalmine in Queensland, while the Sioux people are holding firm in their struggle against the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock.

As these contests intensify, they reveal that Indigenous peoples often have limited say over what happens on their country. When pitted against powerful state and corporate actors, Indigenous people may seek assistance from others, such as environmentalists, to protect their interests and further their aspirations.

In Australia, these arrangements have sometimes been called "green-black alliances". However, as we argue in our new book Unstable Relations, it is misleading to contend that Indigenous people and environmentalists necessarily share (or don't share) the same ends and motives.

They are neither natural allies nor enemies. Instead, we suggest, close attention to the past and present of "green-black" meetings in Australia reveals that their relationships are surprisingly unstable, and are shaped by shifting legal and social contexts.

To understand how and why these collaborations occur, and how and why they can fall apart, we need a better comprehension of the particular processes and people involved, rather than treating them all as uniform.

Understanding land rights today

Since 1966, governments in Australia have progressively recognised different forms of Indigenous land rights. Perhaps the most well known is "native title", which was first recognised in the High Court's 1992 Mabo decision.

Native title applies only to Crown lands and pastoral leases, only authorises limited land use rights, and is proven through condescending tests of cultural "continuity". Because of the history of colonial dispossession, some groups fail to meet these tests; others refuse to do so. These problems notwithstanding, multiple forms of Indigenous land rights together cover more than a third of the continent, much of it in remote Australia.

As we have recently seen, mining companies and others often greet changes to land rights regimes with dire warnings about economic impacts. The "Mabo madness" of the 1990s proved overblown. By and large, Australia's various land rights regimes have been highly accommodating to miners and mineral extraction.

In violation of United Nations principles, Australia's native title laws do not recognise Indigenous peoples' rights to consent over what happens on their country. Rather, they simply allow a right to be consulted for six months. This gives rise to contractual agreements, such as Indigenous Land Use Agreements, which effectively grant mining companies and others a "social licence to operate" in exchange for a mixture of cash and in-kind benefits.

Indigenous academic Marcia Langton and others have argued that this era of "agreement-making" has the potential to lift Indigenous people in remote areas out of poverty. According to this argument, environmental groups that raise concerns about industrial activity do so at Indigenous peoples' expense.

A simplified version of this story is often found in the mainstream media, casting environmentalists as out-of-touch urbanites and portraying Indigenous groups who work with them as dupes or somehow illegitimate.

Meanwhile, many Australians seem to accept that extractive developments are both inevitable and beneficial, despite complex evidence to the contrary.

The alternative view is the one depicted in this painting by Garawa artist Jacky Green, in which a road train covered with dollar signs represents "the wealth being taken away from us, from our country".

Jacky Green, 2012/Private Collection, Author provided

Unstable relations

The anthropological and historical research presented in our book highlights that, far from being manipulated, Indigenous people who are opposed to a particular development often seek to enter into strategic partnerships with environmentalists. Crucially, these are not inevitable alliances but negotiated collaborations, which can run into problems if circumstances change.

The controversy that erupted in recent years over Queensland's Wild Rivers Act was shaped by collaborative relationships established between the Australian Conservation Foundation, The Wilderness Society, and Cape York Land Council and its former chairman Noel Pearson decades earlier. Whereas these groups had formalised an alliance in the mid-1990s, which successfully lobbied for land rights and the return of country to traditional owners in Cape York, they split in the late 2000s over how to regulate planning on that country.

Nonetheless, while a public controversy raged, together these groups continued to privately negotiate further outcomes over jointly managed national parks.

Another quite different example is the campaign against a major liquid-gas processing plant and port at Walmadany ( James Price Point) in Western Australia. The ethnographer Stephen Muecke has characterised the relationship between those Goolarabooloo people who sought to halt the project and their green supporters as the most successful such collaboration in Australia's history.

This was based on long-term personal relationships between some of those involved and, crucially, the media and scientific resources that environmentalists were able to bring to the campaign. "Citizen scientists" took their cue from Goolarabooloo people's firsthand knowledge of local environs, conducting highly successful surveys of turtle nests and bilbies.

In our book, we and other contributors point to many other productive but nonetheless unstable relationships in South Australia, the Northern Territory, Victoria and elsewhere.

The 'green-black' future

Environmentalists often seem oblivious to the contractual landscape in which they are acting. They mistake their relationships with particular Indigenous groups as a natural alliance, based on received ideas of Indigenous connection to country.

But as Yorta Yorta activist Monica Morgan has pointed out, Indigenous people have a holistic relationship with their country, which doesn't always fit with the specific goals of environmentalists. When green groups assume that Indigenous peoples' "traditional culture" is necessarily conservationist, this can lead them to denigrate Indigenous people who pursue economic opportunities.

Relationships between Indigenous people and environmental interests continue to change. Both are now landholders of significant conservation areas in remote Australia, while Indigenous people are increasingly employed as rangers through state-funded conservation projects.

Again, specific case studies show how these arrangements are far from simple. At the former pastoral property of Pungalina in Queensland's Gulf Country, Garawa people return to "Emu Dreaming" places now managed by non-Indigenous conservationists. There they negotiate an ambiguous field of responses to their presence, ranging from interest and respect to anxiety.

In Arnhem Land, Kuninjku people express ambivalence about the problem of the environmentally destructive buffalo in an Indigenous Protected Area. The buffalo are simultaneously recognised as companions, an environmental problem, and a crucial source of meat in hungry times.

As long as Indigenous people have limited capacity to decide what happens on their country, and as long as environmentalists continue to oppose destructive developments, their interests will sometimes intersect. However, as these situations arise and alliances form, we should be careful to avoid essentialising or conflating those involved. "Green-black" alliances will certainly be productive at times, but they will always be unstable.

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Why 'green-black' alliances are less simple than they seem

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In Australia and across the world, Indigenous people are resisting developments that threaten their lands. Wangan and Jagalingou people stand in opposition to the planned Carmichael coalmine in Queensland, while the Sioux people are holding firm in their struggle against the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock.

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“The question isn’t whether or not there is going to be mining, but how it is going to be carried out"

“The commonwealth knows that you would prefer if mining didn’t come about, that it didn’t take place. But the government has had to listen not only to the voice of the Aboriginal people but to the voice of all Australians."

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