Saturday, July 28, 2007

Blood on the Palms

By David Bacon
t r u t h o u t | Report

Saturday 21 July 2007

Tumaco, Nari-o, Colombia - On September 7, paramilitary gunmen invaded the house of Juan de Dios Garcia, a leader of the Black Community Process (PCN) in the Colombian city of Buenaventura. He was able to escape, but they shot and killed seven members of his family.

The paramilitaries, linked to the Colombian government of President Alvaro Uribe, and to the country's wealthy landholding elite, wanted to stop Garcia and other PCN activists, who have been trying to recover land on which AfroColombians have been living for five centuries. The PCN is a network of over 140 organizations among Black Colombian communities.

Garcia later told Radio Bemba "when the paras came looking for me, I could see they were using police and army vehicles. They operate with the direct and indirect participation of high government functionaries. So denouncing their crimes to the authorities actually puts you at an even greater risk."

South of Buenaventura along the Pacific, in the coastal lowlands of Nari-o department, oil palm plantations are spreading through historically AfroColombian lands. The plantation owners' association, Fedepalma, plans to expand production to a million hectares, and the government has proposed that by 2020 seven million hectares will be used for export crops, including oil palms. The paramilitaries protect that investment. AfroColumbian activists who get in the way pay a price in blood.

Helping planters reach their goal is the US Agency for International Development. In what the agency describes as an effort to resettle right-wing paramilitary militia members who agree to be disarmed, USAID funds projects in which they are given land to cultivate. The land, however, is often located in historically AfroColombian areas.

In the 1960s, only about 18,000 hectares were planted with oil palm trees. By 2003, oil palm plantations occupied 188,000 hectares, and counting fields planted but not yet producing, the total is closer to 300,000. Colombia has become the largest palm-oil producer in the Americas, and 35 percent of its product is already exported as fuel. Palm oil used to be used just for cooking. But the global effort to move away from petroleum has created a new market for biodiesel fuels, and one of the world's major sources is the kernel of the oil palm.

Oil palm planters take advantage of the growing depopulation of the AfroColumbian countryside, caused by poverty, internal migration and the civil war. But they also drive people off the land directly, using armed guards and paramilitaries, who often seem to be the same people. "When the companies are buying land, if a farmer sells only part of what he owns, but not his house, he'll be burned out the next day," said Jorge Iba-ez, an activist involved in land recovery, whose name has been changed to protect him from retaliation.

Iba-ez organizes urban committees in Tumaco, a coastal city where many of the displaced AfroColumbians in Nari-o department now live. Displaced people have traveled to the department capital, Pasto, to protest and demand services for the communities of shacks they've built on the edge of Tumaco's mangrove swamps. "But the government says the problem of displacement has been solved," Iba-ez says, "even while those same displaced people are camping out in the plaza in front of the offices of the authorities, because they have no place to go."

Other community activists charge that coca production follows the palms. Raul Alvarez explains that "we never consumed coca here, but now it's all over our schools and barrios." Community residents accuse the people coming as armed plantation guards of involvement in the traffic, and suspect the planters themselves are its financial backers. The earliest and largest plantation owners are the sugar barons of Cali, in the Valle de Cauca department, who for years have been suspected of involvement in the drug trade. Iba-ez says the gunmen are "people who come here from other regions, go to work for these companies, and threaten people."

In Tumaco, among the shacks of the displaced, the network of armed guards runs loan sharking operations and pawnshops, keeping watch on community activity by monopolizing the tiny phone stores where residents go to make their calls.

"These people aren't a political force themselves," Garcia says. "They're mercenaries. In an area like the Pacific Coast, where average income isn't even $500 a year, they offer $400 a month to join up. Even Black and indigenous people get bought, and then they use one group to commit massacres against the other - Black against indigenous, indigenous against Black."

Despite the displacement and dispersal of their communities, however, AfroColombians have fought with the government for decades, trying to force recognition of their land rights. In legal terms, those persistent efforts have produced important gains. As a result of AfroColumbian and indigenous community pressure, the country's Constitution, rewritten in 1991, finally validated their right to their historical territories. Law 70, passed in 1993, said these communities had to be consulted and give their approval prior to any new projects planned on their land.

Having a law is one thing, however. Enforcing it is another.

In Nari-o's interior, displaced residents have joined forces with those still on the land. Together they've filed a series of legal challenges to regain title to land where their ancestors settled centuries ago. Francisco Hurtado, an AfroColumbian leader who began the effort over a decade ago, was assassinated in 1998. Nevertheless, AfroColumbians recovered their first collective territories in the department in 2005. Since the passage of Law 70, AfroColumbians have gained title to 6.1 million hectors of land. Recovery is still far from complete, however.

Tiny communities in the jungle, like Bajo Pusbi, are still alive with fear of the various armed groups who walk their dirt streets with impunity. And Palmeira, the largest of the Nari-o planters, has ceded land planted in palms, but not the roads that lead to or through them. As a result, the territory's inhabitants still live from collecting wood. Most families can't read or write. There is no school or clinic in this tiny town deep in the selva.

President Uribe's response to this poverty is his plan to force AfroColumbian communities to become the planters' junior partners, maintaining and harvesting the trees, and turning over the product to the companies for refining. Further, he wants to take even more land for this monoculture. To support expanding palm oil production, conservative parties in the Colombian Congress (and USAID), have promulgated new laws for forests, water and other resources that require their commercial exploitation. If a community doesn't exploit the resources, it can lose title to its land. Uribe told the growers' organization Fedepalma in its congress in Villavicencio that he would "lock up the businessmen of Tumaco with our AfroColombian compatriots, and not let them out of the office until they've reached an agreement on the use of these lands." In a letter to the president from the Community Councils of the Black Communities of Kurrulao, AfroColombian leaders condemned the idea because "it would bring with it great environmental, social and cultural harm." They argue that more palm plantations would affect the ability to reproduce AfroColombian culture, and would replace one of the most biodiverse regions of the planet with monocrop cultivation.

"AfroColombian communities on the Pacific Coast," Garcia told Radio Bemba, "use the land, and are the owners of what the land produces, but don't believe they own the land itself, which belongs to us all. We follow the concept of collective property. The fact that we've recovered some of our lands and now hold them in this way has infuriated powerful economic forces in our country, as well as transnational corporations."

The PCN was organized to push for land recovery, and force changes in the extreme poverty suffered by AfroColombians. Some of its leaders have traveled to Washington to denounce the project in meetings with US Congress members, trying to convince them to vote no on the proposed US/Colombia free trade agreement. That agreement would vastly expand palm oil production.

Development projects like the palm oil plantations threaten more than just a group of families or a single town. They endanger the territorial basis for maintaining the unique AfroColombian culture and social structure, developed over 500 years.

The first Spaniard landed at what would eventually become Colombia in 1500, finding a territory already inhabited by Carib and Chibchan people. Before the century was out, musket-bearing troops of the Spanish king had decimated these indigenous communities, forcing survivors deep into remote mountains, away from the coast. To replace their forced labor in plantations and mines, colonial administrators brought the first slaves from Africa. By 1521, a hundred years before slavery began in the Virginia colony, the first Africans had already started five centuries of labor in the Americas.

In Colombia, as in the US South, Africans were not docile. They fled the plantations in huge numbers, traveling south and west to the Pacific Coast and the jungle-clad mountains inland. They called their runaway towns palenques. By the time Simon Bolivar and Francisco de Paula Santander raised the flag of liberation from Spain in 1810, African rage was so great that slaves and ex-slaves made up three of every five soldiers in the anti-colonial army.

Yet emancipation was delayed another forty years, until 1851, a decade before Lincoln's Proclamation. By then, the rural AfroColombian communities founded by escaped slaves were as old as the great cities of Bogota or Cartagena.

Today Colombia, a country of 44 million people, is the third-largest in Latin America, and one of the most economically polarized. Its Department of National Planning estimates that 49.2 percent of the people live below the poverty line (the National University says 66 percent). In the countryside, 68 percent are officially impoverished.

That poverty is not evenly distributed.

The Asociacion de AfroColombiano Desplazados (the Association of Displaced AfroColombians) documents more than 10 million Black Colombians living on the Pacific Coast, making up 90 percent of the population. Even in interior departments like Valle de Cauca and northern Cauca, they are a majority. According to "Economic Development in Latin American Communities of African Descent," a report given to the 23rd International Congress of the Latin American Studies Association, in AfroColombian communities 86 percent of basic needs go unsatisfied, including basic public services from sewers to running water. Most white and mestizo communities, by contrast, have such services.

The country's health care system, damaged by budget cuts to fund the government's counterinsurgency war, covers 40 percent of white Colombians. Only 10 percent of Black Colombians get health services, and a mere three percent of AfroColombian workers receive social security benefits. Black illiteracy is 45 percent; white illiteracy is 14 percent. Approximately 120 of every 1,000 AfroColombian infants die in their first year, compared with 20 white babies. And at the other end of life, AfroColombians live 54 years on average, while whites live 70 years.

And while non-Black Colombians have an annual income of $1,500, AfroColombian families make $500. Only 38 percent of AfroColombian young people go to high school, compared to 66 percent of non-Black Colombians. Just two percent go on to the university.

Institutionalized inequality has been reinforced by decades of internal displacement. From 1940 to 1990, the urban percentage of Colombia's population grew from 31 percent to 77 percent. AfroColombians joined this internal migration in hopes of gaining a better standard of living. Those hopes were dashed, and instead, they joined the ranks of the urban poor, living in the marginal areas of cities like Tumaco, Cali, Medellin and Bogota. Currently, most AfroColombians are living in urban area, according to Luis Gilberto Murillo Urrutia, the former governor of Choco state. "AfroColombians make up 36 to 40 percent of Colombia's people" he says, "although the government says it's only 26 percent (or about 11 million people). Only 25 percent, approximately three million people, are still based on the land."

The Colombian government's current development program will depress that number even further. AfroColombian communities are in greater danger of disappearance and displacement than at any previous time in their history, from huge new government-backed development projects, pushed by the US and international financial institutions.

Local communities do not control these large development projects. Palm oil refineries create dividends, but the only Colombians who benefit from them are a tiny handful of planters in Cali and Medellin. But the Colombian government, like many in thrall to market-driven policies, sees foreign investment in these projects as the key to economic development, and thus revenue. It cuts the budget for public services needed by AfroColombian, indigenous and other poor communities, while increasing military spending.

The US military aid program, Plan Colombia, underwrites much of that Colombian military budget. Combined with a new free trade treaty, set to be ratified by Congress this year, both will lead to more displacement of rural AfroColombian and indigenous communities. Leaders who stand in the way of foreign investment projects will disappear or die.

PCN activists estimate that in Colombia approximately 80,000 families working in agriculture will be negatively affected by the proposed free trade agreement, leading to their forced migration. They say this will be just the beginning, and point to the 1.3 million farmers displaced in Mexico under the North American Free Trade Agreement.

And while most displaced Colombians become internal migrants in the country's growing urban slums, that migratory stream will eventually cross borders into those wealthy countries whose policies have set it into motion. Since 2002, over 200,000 Colombians have arrived in the US.

Garcia points out that AfroColombian communities are the historic guardians of the country's biodiversity. "The whole Pacific Coast is made up of rich mangrove forests, to which we owe our subsistence," he explains. "AfroColombian and indigenous culture sees that territory as a place to live, and not as a potential source of economic wealth. But this is the basis for planning these megaprojects, so they are now using their private armies, the paramilitaries, and have assassinated thousands of our movement's leaders and displaced millions of people. That includes a million Black Colombians who have had to leave the Pacific Coast."

AfroColombian communities and their centuries-old culture have no place in megadevelopment plans. "They see Black people as objects that have no value," Garcia emphasizes. "Therefore, sacrificing us, even to the extent of a holocaust, doesn't matter. That's the kind of racism to which we're subjected. We believe all acts against a people's culture should be considered crimes against human rights, because there is no human life without culture."

Garcia and others warn that continued funding of Plan Colombia will produce more conflict and more displacement. The government often accuses the guerrillas of the FARC with committing massacres, and in fact uses their activity as a pretext for maintaining an extremely heavy presence of the army in the countryside. On the other hand, it says it has forced the paramilitaries to demobilize. "But at the same time they make these commitments in the US and Europe, the paras are massacring people here," Garcia told Radio Bemba. "The government asks for money for the peace process, but what happens on the ground is the opposite of peace."

The US Congress has appropriated $21 million to aid the resettlement of paramilitaries. Local people say the same paras, with the same guns, are doing the same killing. High officials of the Uribe administration have been forced to resign because their links to the paramilitaries were exposed.

"The displacement of our communities isn't a consequence of conflict," Garcia points out. "The conflict itself is being used to displace us, to make us flee our territories. Then the land is expropriated, because the state says it's no longer being used productively. We have no arms to fight this, but we will resist politically, because to give up our land is to give up our life."


David Bacon, Photographs and Stories

Go to Original

US Bending Rules on Colombia Terror?
By Josh Meyer
The Los Angeles Times

Sunday 22 July 2007

Several lawmakers say multinationals that aid violent groups in return for protection are not being prosecuted.

Washington - For more than a decade, leftist guerrilla and right-wing paramilitary groups in Colombia have kidnapped or killed civilians, trade union leaders, police and soldiers by the hundreds and profited by shipping cocaine and heroin to the United States.

In that time, several American multinational corporations have been accused of essentially underwriting those criminal activities - in violation of U.S. law - by providing cash, vehicles and other financial assistance as insurance against attacks on their employees and facilities in the South American nation.

But only one such company - Chiquita Brands International Inc. - has been charged criminally in the United States. Now, a showdown is looming that pits some members of Congress against the Justice Department and the multinationals - including an American coal-mining company and Coca-Cola bottlers.

The lawmakers say that, in the cases of U.S. corporations in Colombia, the Justice Department has failed to adequately enforce U.S. laws that make it a crime to knowingly provide material support or resources to a foreign terrorist organization - and they have opened their own investigation.

Rep. Bill Delahunt (D-Mass.), who is leading the effort, has questioned whether the Bush administration is putting the interests of U.S. conglomerates ahead of its counter-terrorism agenda.

Even the plea agreement reached with Chiquita in March - in which it acknowledged making the illegal payments - has been criticized as far too lenient by many outside legal experts and some high-ranking Justice Department prosecutors.

"I think they've escaped any kind of appropriate sanctions," Delahunt said in an interview last week.

"We will take a good, hard look at how American multinationals operate around the world, using Colombia as a model," said Delahunt, chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on International Organizations, Human Rights and Oversight. "It really deserves an exhaustive effort to examine where we need legislation and if there are gaps in our criminal code that allow U.S. corporations to aid or abet violence in other countries that erode our credibility and our moral standing in the world."

The Bush administration has declared that a hallmark of its counter-terrorism policy is to go after the financiers of terrorism just as aggressively as the terrorists themselves - anywhere in the world. But the situation in Colombia underscores the difficulty in prosecuting such goals when it conflicts with American economic interests abroad and trade relations with friendly governments. Making the matter particularly sensitive, the U.S. is in the midst of negotiating a free-trade agreement with Colombia, and sends it billions annually in military and other aid.

"Do our economic interests trump the war on terror? Are we making trade-offs?" Delahunt asked. "If we are, at the very least the public should know about it."

Lance Compa, an international trade specialist at Cornell University's School of Industrial and Labor Relations, acknowledged that there were many competing priorities in Colombia.

"But the general proposition that gross human rights violations should be weighed against trade policy and foreign policy is a mistake," Compa said. "The paramilitaries have infiltrated the highest levels of the [Colombian] government, and the Bush administration is looking the other way.

"It makes it all the more incumbent on U.S. policymakers to put a stop to any corporate dealings with paramilitary death squads."

Dealings Outlawed

The right-wing United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia, or AUC, initially began as a security force in response to leftist atrocities, but it quickly transformed in the 1990s into a brutal organization with ties to Colombia's military, political and business establishment. The State Department designated the AUC a terrorist organization in 2001, making it a crime to provide the group with financial or other support.

Financial dealings with the paramilitaries have also been outlawed under a federal "drug kingpin" statute, because such groups are believed to supply 90% of the cocaine and 50% of the heroin consumed in the U.S.

For more than four years, lawmakers have been requesting information from the Justice Department about whether it is investigating "credible allegations" against some of the American firms, including some that were named in detailed civil lawsuits and forwarded to prosecutors, according to letters sent to Atty. Gen. Alberto R. Gonzales and his predecessor, John Ashcroft.

The lawmakers are particularly concerned about claims that the Drummond Co. coal-mining operations paid paramilitaries from the AUC to kill three trade union leaders who were trying to organize workers at its coal mines in 2001. Drummond has been accused in a civil lawsuit first filed in 2002 of using the AUC as a de facto security force that intimidated employees to keep them from unionizing and demanding higher wages.

Drummond has strenuously denied the claims and is fighting them in a civil trial that began this month.

In a letter to Ashcroft on June 25, 2003, four lawmakers on House foreign affairs oversight committees urged thorough investigations of the Drummond case and allegations against two U.S.-owned Coca-Cola bottling firms in Colombia that are also accused in lawsuits of colluding with the paramilitaries. The bottlers, which are independent of the Atlanta-based beverage giant, have denied any wrongdoing.

Nearly a year later, Assistant Atty. Gen. William E. Moschella sent a four-paragraph response that said: "We can assure you that this matter is being carefully reviewed." Moschella said the Justice Department could not comment on any case until there were public filings.

The lawmakers said they had been unable to get even basic information about whether an investigation was underway.

A Lower Priority?

Two senior Justice Department officials acknowledged that violent Colombian groups, particularly the AUC, were not as high a priority as Islamist jihad groups because they had not attacked American interests such as embassies.

But critics say that the Colombian groups have killed and kidnapped more people than Al Qaeda and that the Justice Department's selective enforcement of U.S. laws opens it up to charges of having double standards in the war on terrorism.

The Justice Department says it has aggressively pursued corporate financiers of terrorism, in Colombia and elsewhere.

"The notion that the Justice Department is somehow putting the interests of U.S. companies ahead of its national security priorities is baseless," said spokesman Dean Boyd. "The Justice Department takes seriously any and all allegations about U.S. persons or entities that may have engaged in transactions with specially designated terrorist organizations."

The senior Justice Department officials confirmed that they had launched a probe of Drummond at least several years ago, and that they had looked at other U.S. firms as well. "We were trying to look into any allegation there was of any company doing what Chiquita was doing," one said of the Drummond allegations. "I can't say we pursued every one of them."

Kenneth L. Wainstein, assistant attorney general for national security, said he could not discuss ongoing federal actions.

The lawmakers' concerns intensified after Chiquita reached a plea agreement with the Justice Department in March, in which it admitted having paid the AUC at least $1.7 million between 1997 and 2004, and the left-wing Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, before that. Chiquita said it did so to protect its workers, contending that the guerrilla and paramilitary groups attacked corporations that refused.

Colombia's chief prosecutor, Mario Iguaran, has accused Chiquita and the AUC of cultivating "a criminal relationship" based on "money and arms and, in exchange, the bloody pacification of Uraba," the region where the Cincinnati-based firm's banana plantations were based until it sold them in 2004.

In May, six congressmen wrote a follow-up letter to Gonzales, asking whether the Justice Department had investigated their "grave concerns" that other companies, particularly Drummond, might be engaging in similar activity. The lawmakers said that Iguaran had launched a criminal investigation of Drummond and that though the allegations were unproved, they were "sufficiently credible" for the Justice Department to launch criminal proceedings of its own.

"If no such probe has begun, we strongly urge that one be started immediately," wrote Reps. Delahunt, Tom Lantos (D-Burlingame), Howard L. Berman (D-Valley Village), George Miller (D-Martinez), Eliot L. Engel (D-N.Y.) and Christopher H. Smith (R-N.J.).

No Response

The Justice Department has not responded to that letter, the lawmakers say.

"In the wake of 9/11, it is shocking to me that allegations of payments to terrorist groups have not been aggressively investigated and prosecuted by the Justice Department," Engel said at a June 28 congressional hearing on the issue, the first of what the lawmakers have pledged will be many.

"I can only imagine the force and speed with which the entire prosecutorial force of the United States government would come down on a company alleged to have assisted Al Qaeda or Hezbollah," Engel added.

The congressmen, all top members of foreign affairs panels, vow to haul in top officials from Drummond, Chiquita and other companies (which they would not name) that have done business in Colombia to testify under oath.

At the June congressional hearing, a former Colombian military captain turned AUC soldier; a human rights worker; and a union leader testified that numerous U.S. corporations besides Chiquita and Drummond had been routinely paying off violent groups in Colombia.

This spring, former AUC leader Salvatore Mancuso and group spokesman Ivan Duque alleged that the payoffs were pervasive and long-standing, involving multinational fruit companies such as Fresh Del Monte Produce Inc. and Dole Food Co., as well as oil conglomerates and other firms. Del Monte and Dole have denied the allegations.

Many more AUC commanders intend to begin speaking publicly about the financing of their reign of terror "by the banana industry, some coal companies, big national businesses," Duque said in a published interview.

"Those who broke the law must face the consequences, just as we are."


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