A Human Rights Dilemma in the Sierra Nevada Rainforest
Take up the White Man’s burden –
Send forth the best ye breed –
Go send your sons to exile
To serve your captives’ need
To wait in heavy harness
On fluttered folk and wild –
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half devil and half childRudyard Kipling (from the poem The White Man’s Burden: The United States and the Philippine Islands, 1889)
The above quoted verse is one of the more cringe-worthy articulations of the misguided notion of a need and duty to “civilise” and “rescue” the “savages” under European or Western domination, prevalent and accepted in the not so distant past. Most of us today like to think that these ideas have been overcome and discarded — at least in mainstream thought and literature, kept alive only by fringe groups and extremists.
While it would be difficult to maintain that there has not been a momentous shift in approach and attitudes vis-à-vis the matters and issues of the so-called “savages” inhabiting the various regions of the world, the current regime concerning human rights and the rights of indigenous and tribal peoples, as well as action taken on its basis, is by no means above criticism.
For me, this was brought into stark focus in 2017, when I trekked to Ciudad Perdida, the Lost City, in Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, not far from Colombia’s Caribbean coast.
Finding the Lost City
Ciudad Perdida has been called “the New Machu Picchu” but this seems to me mostly a sales pitch — having visited both sites, as well as Tikal in Guatemala and Chichen Itza in Mexico, I venture that Machu Picchu is the undisputed heavyweight champion when it comes to ancient ruins and lost cities in Latin America, perhaps the world. Regardless, the Lost City is an impressive site in its own right and, due to its inaccessibility, has the advantage of relatively small crowds.
The city is believed to have been founded around 800 CE and inhabited by the Tairona, forebearers of the tribes that live in the region today. Reportedly the Lost City was never actually lost to the local tribes, who call it Teyuna. It was “re-discovered” in 1972 and dubbed Infierno Verde, Green Hell, by the treasure hunters who first stumbled upon it, due to its location’s inhospitability.
To find one’s way to Ciudad Perdida, one must strap on one’s hiking boots and tread 70ish kilometres, 45 as the crow flies, through rainforest and over mountains. The trek took a reasonably grueling four days, replete with mosquitoes, torrential rains and some minor falls and tumbles. More importantly, the journey offered magnificent views, a glimpse of the City’s mysterious history, and an insight into the life and culture of the indigenous population in the region. Even the company was great, my fellow-hikers were good people by and large. While the temperatures can get oppressive in the rainforest, we had good luck with cloud cover, which shielded us from the sun’s glare for much of the time. Considerately, the clouds disappeared when we arrived at our destination and time came to ‘gram the bejeezus out of the actual ruins.
When we came upon the tribespeople in one of their villages, the first thing that caught my attention was that the all-white attire they wore was utterly spotless. Every man, woman and child’s clothing was sparkling white despite the intermittent rains and the mud and the rainforest. The contrast between them and my group of hikers was stark; we were sweaty and grimy and muddy up to our knees. Second, my eye was caught by a girl, no more than fifteen years old, holding her baby sibling and leading her little brother by the hand, a toddler of two years or so. It was a pretty sight. Then I noticed that the teenage girl’s abdomen was protruding considerably and it dawned on me that the child was pregnant. And then it occurred to me that the baby and toddler were not her siblings but her own children.
Do It Your Own Way — but Do It How We Say
More bewildered than shocked, I quietly inquired about this with our guide. It bears mention that he was not indigenous or a member of the tribe in question but a long-haired heavy metal aficionado from Cali who had learned his perfect English listening to Ronnie James Dio. He did however have many years of experience guiding in the area and interacting with the tribes in the area and seemed well versed in the history, traditions and situation of this pre-Colombian people.
He told me that under the tribe’s customs, when a girl had her first period, a marriage is arranged and she usually bears her first child within a year, more to follow at the rate of one per year. He added that when boys reached puberty they were sent to live with widows where they learned to be “good husbands”, which included having sexual relations with these much older women for “educational” purposes.[1]
Given that girls usually begin menstruating at between eleven and fourteen years old, sometimes earlier, and boys generally reach puberty between the ages of twelve to sixteen, these customary practices would constitute child marriage[2] and possibly, depending on the circumstances of each instance, child rape and sexual abuse under international human rights norms.[3]
Both the International Labour Organisation’s 1989 C169 Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention (ILO 169) and the 2007 United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) make it clear that indigenous peoples have a right to retain their tradition and customs — as long as they do not violate human rights and fundamental freedoms, see in particular article 8(2) of ILO 169 and article 34 of UNDRIP.[4] The 1989 ILO 169’s wording is more forthright and clearly frames this as a condition, whereas the UNDRIP adopts a slightly more vague phrasing, somewhat softening the condition. Compare ILO‘s “where these are not incompatible with fundamental rights defined by the national legal system and with internationally recognised human rights” with UNDRIP’s “have the right […] in accordance with international human rights standards“. [emphases added]
Regardless of wording, the substance of both is the same: Indigenous and tribal people have a right to maintain their traditions and customs — as long as they conform with human rights and fundamental freedoms.
The White Man’s Burden — Revamped
In essence: As long as your indigenous and tribal traditions and customs do not offend our imposed outsider norms and ideas of what rights human beings should have, you are welcome to retain and practice them. This is where the so-called “white man’s burden” rears its ugly head again, albeit in a new and perhaps more benevolent guise; the “civilising” of today’s “savages” is now articulated using the terms and methods of human rights.
The example of the tribe in the rainforest of Sierra Nevada de Santa Maria is a potent one for examining the issue of applying human rights to indigenous cultures because it involves the rights of children. These are likely to evoke a fierce moral, as well as emotional, response from most people, perhaps equaled only by practices such as human sacrifice and female genital cutting. “We” feel that these indigenous children must be saved from these practices, understandably given our moral and ethical principles. This fits neatly into what has been called the “Savages-Victim-Saviour construction”, by which a narrative of saving victims from savages, a battle of good and evil is projected.[5]
But from where do “we” derive the authority to dictate how “they” live?
Legally, one can point to the ILO 169 and UNDRIP, as well as human rights law in general — everyone is entitled to human rights, including indigenous people and children. That is the simple and, more importantly, the unsatisfactory answer. Logically speaking and on a more fundamental level, one is hard pressed to provide a satisfactory answer without falling back on the quasi-religious position that human rights are somehow universal and transcend the human plane. That particular stance, apparent in many human rights instruments, is logically untenable but even if it were to be accepted, it would not change the “civilising savages” paradigm. The only real difference would be that the “civilisers” would be objectively right in their judgment; they would, however, still be imposing their values on the “savages”.
That is, shouldering the “white man’s burden”.
The trek to Ciudad Perdida left me with more than just a great experience, a handful of ‘grammable moments, and slightly sore quadriceps. Encountering the tribe and hearing of their practices was thought-provoking, to say the least. Some hearty food for thought on the trek back to “civilization”.
As mentioned earlier, the approach taken to indigenous and tribal culture has changed significantly in the past century or so. What remains of the “civilising the savages” paradigm is now mostly limited to ensuring that human rights and fundamental freedoms, as defined by the Western world, are afforded to all and respected. This is what I argue is the revamped “white man’s burden”, inherent in the current human rights and indigenous rights regimes.
It should be noted that even though I categorically reject the idea that they are universal, I believe that human rights are a force for good and a useful tool to better the world. “Good”, “useful”, and “better” as defined and felt by me — and, as it happens, much of the world. I am acutely aware that, at the end of the day, human rights are subjective moral norms that do not transcend the human plane. I am therefore reluctant to impose the Western-centric ideas of rights and freedoms on societies and cultures which may hold alternative views.
At the same time, I feel strongly about human rights and, in relation to the current example, protecting the rights of children. This leaves me conflicted as to their traditional practices and I have not been able to make up my mind as to how such a situation is to be dealt with, or if it is to be dealt with. Or if it can be satisfactorily dealt with at all. It appears to me that, no matter what the international legal regime prescribes, “we” have no moral authority to tell “them” how to live or “rescue” them from themselves and their “savagery”. On the other hand, I find it hard to come to terms with not intervening in indigenous cultural practices which amount to child abuse. This seems to be an unsolvable dilemma, rooted in the Achilles’ heel of human rights; their subjectivity and non-universality.
It is a perfect Catch-22.
[1] It should be highlighted that this is information provided to me verbally by a trekking guide and not a source of a scientific or scholarly nature. This is why I have opted to leave out the name of the tribe in question.
However, the example, whether exact or not, even if treated as hypothetical, serves the purposes of these reflections as the accuracy of the information is secondary, being that the subject is of a general nature and not the specifics of these tribal traditions and their harmony with international human rights.
[2] UNICEF. 2018. Child marriage. Child protection from violence, exploitation and abuse. Available at https://www.unicef.org/protection/57929_58008.html.
UNICEF. 2008. Child Marriage and the Law. See pp. 2–4 Available at https://www.unicef.org/policyanalysis/files/Child_Marriage_and_the_Law(1).pdf.
[3] UNICEF. 2018 (2). Sexual violence against children. Child protection from violence, exploitation and abuse. Available at https://www.unicef.org/protection/57929_58006.html.
[4] See also ILO 169 article 9(1) and UNDRIP‘s articles 46(2) and 46(3).
[5] Mutua, M. 2001. Savages, Victims, and Saviors: The Metaphor of Human Rights. Harvard International Law Journal, Volume 42, Number 1, Winter 2001, 201–246, see pp. 201–205. Available at: https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1525547.
