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This site maintained by: Aomar Boum. Site last updated on October, 2001. |
Journal
of Political Ecology:
Case Studies in History and Society |
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VOLUME 6 (1999)
Chinnagounder's Challenge: The Question of Ecological Citizenship (1999), by Deane Curtin. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, xviii, 218 pp.
Reviewed by Dave Howland, Department of Natural Resources, and Rob Robertson Department of Resource Economics and Development, University of New Hampshire
Deane
Curtin would like us to rethink our cultural and environmental ethics.
In his new book, Chinnagounder's Challenge: The Question of Ecological
Citizenship, Curtin delivers a thoughtful, well-documented critique
of western attitudes toward the environment and other cultures. He concludes
that we have upended eco-communities and threatened indigenous people
around the world through commercial exploitation, the green revolution
and even the well-intentioned export of western environmental ethics,
such as preservation. Curtin argues that these are all forms of covert,
systemic violence ö though some are harder to recognize than others
ö that threaten to transform billions of people into environmental
refugees. He warns: "The future of the planet urgently requires
a global practice of localized care for the environment." (p. 16)
Curtin suggests, as a solution, his own brand of environmental and cultural
philosophy, which he calls critical ecocommunitarianism. (p. 141)
The selection
of the book's title is a little confusing, and Curtin unfortunately
leaves readers guessing about it until the final chapter. Chinnagounder
is the name of a tribal elder in a village in Southeast India, whom Curtin
met while traveling with a group of American students. Chinnagounder,
who Curtin estimated to be more than 100 years old, recalled how strangers
duped his father into selling the family's land to a coffee plantation
for the equivalent of about $2 at present day value. Today, a new generation
of colonialists stalks his ancestral home ö pharmaceutical company
prospectors wanting information about native medicines. Chinnagounder's
challenge apparently comes in the form of a question: Which drug company
did Curtin and his fellow travelers represent? In other words, where
did these westerners really belong? Curtin answers the reader: "We
are, perhaps the lone people that has never succeeded in becoming native
to any place." (p. 173) Curtin
uses his book to urge us to become invested in our own place ö our
own natural land ö and to respect the place of others. He defines
his critical ecocommunitarianism as "a pluralist ethic that
begins with the authority of local communities to define their local values
and participate in their transformation over time." The local community
might be a tribe in the Amazon or an inner-city neighborhood that has
created its own community garden. In the context of ecomommunitarianism,
important environmental decisions would be made at the local level by
people who know the land best. In today's world such decisions are
made out of context by, for example, the World Trade Organization ö
a panel of business executives appointed by heads of state. Where there
is a conflict between cultures or different groups, Curtin says the sides
must make profound efforts to understand each other's positions
and even their way of life. Though he avoids the cliché, he would
have opposing sides walk a mile or more in each other's shoes to
establish a common understanding needed to resolve differences. In the
process, we might stop talking past one another and begin to find real
solutions. Writing
to a First-World western audience, Curtin says that we have forced our
own worldview on other cultures at the peril of their societies and their
environment. The very concept of a First and Third World, Curtin notes,
is itself a questionable creation of western thought. He says a struggle
has emerged between two powerful movements: "the increasingly global
reach of Western liberal individualism and the resistance to this movement
in traditional communities" (p. xi). The casualties are endangered
species and endangered indigenous cultures, which are disappearing at
a rapid rate under the crush of so-called progress. He writes: These
cultures are often fragile. One-third of the original North American languages
have been lost, two-thirds in Australia. Eighty-seven tribes disappeared
in Brazil alone in the first half of this century. Yet most of the world's
cultural and genetic diversity reside in these small, unique cultures.
At a pace that only increases, these cultures face the tragic choice of
living in a homogeneous global culture, or being eradicated altogether
(p. xi). Curtin
notes that westerners have not cornered the market on environmental ethics,
though we might think so given the ground covered by the diametrically
opposed views of John Muir and Gilford Pinchot. Muir believed in preserving
natural resources for nature's sake, an ideology that Curtin says
led to the founding of the National Park Service. Pinchot, a utilitarian,
was in favor of using nature's bounty to serve people, a concept
that placed stewardship of national forests under the Department of Agriculture
(p. 5). Curtin notes that both ideologies have done great harm where they
have been exported to other parts of the world. He declares Nepal's
Chitwan National Park a failure, pointing to a policy in which indigenous
people were relocated to marginal lands to create a wilderness within
the park. Forced to earn a living providing for low-budget tourists, they
have begun cutting away at the edge of the jungle for firewood (p. 4).
At the
other end of the spectrum is commercial exploitation. Curtin quotes former
World Bank economist Herman Daly about the dangers of our mainstream economic
theory that is "destroying our own humanity and killing the planet"
(p. 24). Curtin also levels a scathing attack on the green revolution,
the spread of modern agriculture, which he calls "murderous."
He gives his strongest warning at the end of Chapter 3: "When 20
percent insists on consuming 80 percent of the resources, this creates
billions of environmental refugees who can only be pacified by force."
Curtin
spends most of his energy educating his readers about he error of our
western ways. What we might mistake for charitable behavior on our part
could be cultural violence toward another ö "the attempt to
supplant community values with the misguided assumption that cultural
development is equivalent to Western liberalism" (p. 30). To put
his argument in context, he provides an elegant taxonomy of violence that
defines not only personal violence ö such as mugging, murder and
domestic abuse ö but also institutional and systemic violence, which
comes in both overt and covert forms. For example, forcing a Third World
agrarian community to adopt mechanical agriculture and reject their caste
system is a form of systemic violence. Colonialism is covert systemic
violence. Genocidal violence is overt systemic violence. As with
his book's title, Curtin waits until the final chapter to reveal
the details of his own environmental ethic. He says that in America we
have lost our connection with the land and have turned over responsibility
for environmental caring to the national government. He argues we need
is to rekindle our sense of place with a dose Thomas Jefferson's
passion for local control and an ounce of Edward Abbey's love of
nature. Writes Curtin: "My view is that the best guarantee
we have of preserving the wilderness of nature is through cultivating
an informed and humble citizenry that is genuinely committed to preservation.
Then theory and practice, coincide" (p. 190). Curtin is wise
to concede that the local approach of critical ecocommunitarianism
is no panacea. If there is an Achilles heel to his ethic, it is that it
cannot alone solve the world's greatest systemic environmental problems.
He offers as an afterthought in the fifth to last sentence of the book
that global warming will indeed take a global effort to solve. Curtin
could add to the list the scourge of endocrine-disrupting chemicals, nuclear
waste and every other transboundary nightmare wrought by western technology.
The point, however, is not worth belaboring because Curtin's philosophy
and global environmental solutions are not mutually exclusive. We need
a combination of local and worldwide effort to address our environmental
threats. Curtain does a service to all, regardless of their environmental ethics, by revealing another perspective. We in the west do not realize how harmful our influences can be. Seemingly unimpeachable attempts to improve life in other lands by casting it in our image can bring great distress and even death to other cultures. Chinnagounder's Challenge turns the tables on our everyday assumptions. In Close to Eden, a 1992 film by Nikita Mikhalkov, a Mongolian herder named Gombo discovers the excitement of modern civilization when he travels to a Chinese city with a Russian truck driver named Sergei. On the way back to his family across the sprawling steppe, Gombo dreams that he and Sergei are set upon by a powerful Mongolian Army of centuries past. The ancient soldiers find the precious television set Gombo had bought for his wife and they smash it. Then they set Sergei's truck aflame and tumbling down a hill. Perhaps the ancient warriors had read Curtin's book. |