Extractive Pressures at Crossroads of Indigenous Territoriality in Amazonas, Venezuela

By Laura Botero

Introduction

Gold mining has surged in southern Venezuela since 2016, when a presidential decree authorized mining exploration and exploitation across approximately 11,200,000 hectares in the southern section of the Orinoco River. In the Indigenous Uwottüja territory of Amazonas state, which is located beyond the boundaries of this decree, some Indigenous communities are now actively involved in illegal mining operations. This enterprise has become dominated by non-state armed groups from the Colombian side of the border, which have introduced coercion, violence, and illicit economies to Indigenous territories. While a few Indigenous communities are running their own mining operations, most people from different Indigenous communities across this region are intermittently participating in the mining economy as a source of income amidst precarious living conditions.

Analysis

Current discourses about mining in Indigenous territories often reduce Indigenous agency to a binary of compliance or resistance. Mining sites in Indigenous territories have been framed in terms of what Kamete (2013) defines as “pathological spaces,” where Indigenous governance is either questioned for its perceived lack of capability or delegitimized due to their engagement in extractive activities. However, these narratives disregard the socio-political realities compelling Indigenous communities to engage in mining economies, where traditional governance structures have to contend with the presence of non-state armed groups. A closer look at the experience of Gavilán, the Uwottüja community I have been working with for the past few years, reveals that they have resisted the encroachment of armed groups, even though these groups have already approached them to seek their acquiescence and taken control of two neighboring communities. Despite significant constraints, the community’s governance structure, rooted in the authority of the Cacique, has been able to confront these pressures, demonstrating the potential of Indigenous systems to sustain collective well-being and territorial integrity.

The authority of the Cacique along with the Elders Council is recognized by almost everybody in this community of more than 500 people. Aware of the risks posed by such offers, the Cacique and his council have declined requests from armed groups to allow them to operate within the community’s territory in exchange of “security” and stipends for collaborators. They have even formed a group known as Territorial Guardians that is responsible for communitarian support and response to potential threats. The experience of Gavilán thus offers valuable insights into the strengths of traditional systems of governance as a means of self-determination in the face of socio-ecological challenges posed by extractivism. The community has demonstrated the possibilities for self-governance (Nunbogu et al. 2018) and collective defense in a context where sovereignty has been eroded by colonial structures and dynamics, manifested both through state negligence but also through mechanisms that resemble what Quijano (2000) conceptualizes as coloniality of power and knowledge.

However, even though the governance structure in Gavilán is grounded in traditional systems of authority, it has also been influenced by settler political rationalities. State neglect has meant that Indigenous rights, such as land titling among many others, have been pending for more than two decades. In the process of claiming such rights, Indigenous organizations have been forced to navigate what Miraftab (2009) refers to as “invited spaces” dominated by settler rationalities. These spaces require Indigenous actors to make such rationalities legible, which might limit critical conscientization of oppressive structures (Fateh 2022) and cause social mobilization to become depoliticized or co-opted. In response to this, some elders have been cautious about sharing “everything there is to know about the old ways” to younger generations, fearing the possible profaning of sacred knowledge about their culture and their territory. The possible disappearance of such resistant texts (Winkler 2018) risks erasing traditional knowledge systems, which in turn may erode the possibilities for a collective sense of place, place-making, and place-keeping (Friedmann 2010).

Implications

Gavilán’s experience aligns with Simone’s (2004) concept of “people as infrastructure,” as the community’s social networks and traditional governance act as critical infrastructure to navigate and resist the socio-political pressures of mining and encroachment of non-state armed groups. The creation of the Territorial Guardians demonstrates how social relationships function as a mechanism for communal support and defense, ensuring the continuity of collective life amidst external threats. Drawing on their social infrastructures, the community’s refusal to acquiesce to the offers from armed groups reflects an act of defiance (Buitron, 2023) akin to the Shuar’s resistance in the Ecuadorian Amazon. This defiance is not merely an act of rejection but a deliberate assertion of Indigenous agency in navigating external pressures while maintaining territorial integrity and traditional governance systems.

From a planning perspective, the community’s efforts to maintain traditional governance systems while creating “invented spaces” for territorial guardianship highlight how Indigenous actors navigate the porosity of informality posed by blurred boundaries between legal and illegal practices around mining (Koch 2015). Furthermore, this case underscores the importance of collaborative approaches, as advocated by Perry and Rappaport (2013), drawing on creative methodologies to convey collective meanings of place and foster spaces of healing the wounds of colonial past and present (Sandercock and Attili 2014). Such approaches might foster imaginative ways of “telling otherwise” (Ortiz 2023) stories about what the future might hold amidst current growing pressures. Ultimately, this case challenges planners to rethink sovereignty, legality, and governance in ways that center Indigenous agency and resistance, offering a model for addressing the socio-ecological challenges posed by extractivism.

People at the port of Morganito, heading to the mines with supplies. Source: Photo taken by Laura Botero.

A view of Gavilán community in the late afternoon on a regular day. Source: Photo taken by Laura Botero.

A panoramic view from the heights of the stone hill adjacent to Gavilán. Source: Photo taken by Laura Botero.