This research was made possible in part by funding from the Latin American & Iberian Institute and Tinker Foundation Field Research Grant (FRG). For more information about the FRG, visit the LAII website.
Sunrise at Choquequirao - Photo by Author Erektil dysfunktion
billig viagra danmark Introduction
In conjunction with completing a Master of Architecture degree and the Graduate Certificate Program in Urban and Regional Design at the University of New Mexico, the author of this report has proposed a research project to document the ecological effects of Inca architectural planning and construction. The hypothesis is that, to this day, the ecology of Peru is strengthened by the design and engineering work of the Inca civilization. This research intends to show that some of the lasting effects of their civilization include increased biodiversity, mitigated drought conditions, cleaner river water, denser plant growth, and more bountiful habitats for humans and animals.
Sustainability is becoming a critical issue in the design and retrofitting of human settlements. According to a World Watch Institute-funded study performed in 2012, Peru is the only country in the world that could be considered sustainable (Assadourian et al. 2012). Still, drastic economic inequality and industrialized infrastructures are negatively impacting the diverse ecosystems and populations that compose the country. Solutions to some of these problems may be found within the venerable design strategies of the Inca. However, some key data and analyses are still missing from the body of research on Inca design and land use. This information is necessary to identify with precision the ecological benefits that might be possible to replicate by employing a truly bioresponsive design strategy.
Field research was conducted in May, June, and July of 2013 on four Inca archaeological sites in Peru with permission from the Peruvian Ministry of Culture. The four sites studied were Wiñay Wayna, Choquequirao, Pisaq and Ollantaytambo. Wiñay Wayna and Choquequirao are two examples of well preserved sites that still function hydrologically much the way they did in Inca times, yet have had little human impact. Due to restrictions set by the direction of Machu Picchu Archeological Park soil samples were unable to be collected at Wiñay Wayna. Pisaq and Ollantaytambo also proved to be excellent sites to add diversity to the study's sampling as they are also well preserved and because parts of the sites are still cultivated in much the same way that the Inca cultivated them.
The main facet of this field research was assessing the ecological vitality of these sites and comparing this data with data collected from areas of land that are similarly situated (e.g., altitude, slope, orientation, proximity to water, etc.) but were not constructed by the Inca or previous civilizations. This data was gathered in the form of soil analyses, vegetation transects, and water testing. Soil samples were analyzed by A&L Laboratories in California. Permits for soil importation were acquired through A&L Labs as well. The samples were analyzed for organic matter content and composition, mineral content, and cation exchange rates (see analysis and addendums).
In addition to soil tests, vegetation transects were performed using the frequency method to assess land productivity. This method is used to describe the abundance and distribution of species. “On most sites the frequency method is capable of accomplishing the task with statistical evidence more rapidly and at less cost than any other method that is currently available” (Mosley, Bunting, and Hironaka 1989). The primary reason for collecting frequency data is to demonstrate that a change in vegetation has occurred.
A water colorimeter was secured through the UNM Community and Regional Planning Program, thanks to Dr. William Flemming. Water testing was performed at Wiñay Wayna, Pisaq, and Ollantaytambo, but could not be performed at Choquequirao as there was no surface water found on site. On the four sites where testing was performed water was tested for turbidity (erosion content), nitrates and phosphates (usually fertilizers), and pH (Mitchell, Stapp, and Bixby 2000).
In conjunction with completing a Master of Architecture degree and the Graduate Certificate Program in Urban and Regional Design at the University of New Mexico, the author of this report has proposed a research project to document the ecological effects of Inca architectural planning and construction. The hypothesis is that, to this day, the ecology of Peru is strengthened by the design and engineering work of the Inca civilization. This research intends to show that some of the lasting effects of their civilization include increased biodiversity, mitigated drought conditions, cleaner river water, denser plant growth, and more bountiful habitats for humans and animals.
Sustainability is becoming a critical issue in the design and retrofitting of human settlements. According to a World Watch Institute-funded study performed in 2012, Peru is the only country in the world that could be considered sustainable (Assadourian et al. 2012). Still, drastic economic inequality and industrialized infrastructures are negatively impacting the diverse ecosystems and populations that compose the country. Solutions to some of these problems may be found within the venerable design strategies of the Inca. However, some key data and analyses are still missing from the body of research on Inca design and land use. This information is necessary to identify with precision the ecological benefits that might be possible to replicate by employing a truly bioresponsive design strategy.
Field research was conducted in May, June, and July of 2013 on four Inca archaeological sites in Peru with permission from the Peruvian Ministry of Culture. The four sites studied were Wiñay Wayna, Choquequirao, Pisaq and Ollantaytambo. Wiñay Wayna and Choquequirao are two examples of well preserved sites that still function hydrologically much the way they did in Inca times, yet have had little human impact. Due to restrictions set by the direction of Machu Picchu Archeological Park soil samples were unable to be collected at Wiñay Wayna. Pisaq and Ollantaytambo also proved to be excellent sites to add diversity to the study's sampling as they are also well preserved and because parts of the sites are still cultivated in much the same way that the Inca cultivated them.
The main facet of this field research was assessing the ecological vitality of these sites and comparing this data with data collected from areas of land that are similarly situated (e.g., altitude, slope, orientation, proximity to water, etc.) but were not constructed by the Inca or previous civilizations. This data was gathered in the form of soil analyses, vegetation transects, and water testing. Soil samples were analyzed by A&L Laboratories in California. Permits for soil importation were acquired through A&L Labs as well. The samples were analyzed for organic matter content and composition, mineral content, and cation exchange rates (see analysis and addendums).
In addition to soil tests, vegetation transects were performed using the frequency method to assess land productivity. This method is used to describe the abundance and distribution of species. “On most sites the frequency method is capable of accomplishing the task with statistical evidence more rapidly and at less cost than any other method that is currently available” (Mosley, Bunting, and Hironaka 1989). The primary reason for collecting frequency data is to demonstrate that a change in vegetation has occurred.
A water colorimeter was secured through the UNM Community and Regional Planning Program, thanks to Dr. William Flemming. Water testing was performed at Wiñay Wayna, Pisaq, and Ollantaytambo, but could not be performed at Choquequirao as there was no surface water found on site. On the four sites where testing was performed water was tested for turbidity (erosion content), nitrates and phosphates (usually fertilizers), and pH (Mitchell, Stapp, and Bixby 2000).
Notes on Soil Collection
Observations of the soil composition at the visited sites indicate some strategic construction therein by the planners. It was especially evident at the site of Huimin Pampa in Pisaq that upper terraces, particularly the top terrace, had a much higher quantity of gravel. This likely indicates the strategic structuring of the terrace to both infiltrate and withstand surface runoff to protect the terracing (Kendall 1984). The soil in the mid section of the terraces was a dark and rich garden like soil. In the lower terraces the soil was denser and redder with a higher apparent clay content. The denser, more absorptive soil in the lower section could also indicate the intention of holding water caught by the terraces in the soil for as long as possible to minimize the need for watering and to lengthen the time required between watering. Huimin Pampa was, however, somewhat unique in this particular observation. In part, this could be because of the shorter sections of terraces and thus the ability to quickly observe the different soil constitutions across those sections. A similar observation was made at Qalla Qasa, a set of terraces just up the drainage from Huimin Pampa. It can also be observed that these two sites had greater than average exposure to runoff water flowing into the terraces from above. Qalla Qasa is located just under an Inca cemetery that is built into a large cliff approximately 300 feet high. The land immediately above is not terraced, indicating that in a large storm there would likely be significant runoff onto the terraces below. In 2010 there was extensive flooding of the site and the valley below. Significant damage was done to the Inca drainage channels below these two sites and one of the only known stone bridges was completely washed away (“Ruined” 2010). Huimin Pampa is a bit downstream but is also quite exposed to runoff from the hillside above.
Five soil samples were taken at Pisaq: on-site and off-site samples at Huimin Pampa in addition to a double comparison sample between Qalla Qasa, Inti Huatana, and an off-site sample collected between the two. These sites are all located on slopes surrounding a major drainage fed by high altitude lakes and runoff from both the archaeological site and surrounding areas.
Four soil samples were taken at Ollantaytambo: on-site and off-site samples at Muska Pujio plus on-site and off-site samples at Choque Bamba. Both of these sites are part of one very extensive terracing system that climbs over 2000 vertical feet from the river to the mountain ridge where the terrain plateaus before climbing again to a snowcapped peak at 16,200 feet above sea level. The sites exist in a rain shadow created by the peaks to the north and likely receive rainfall above the average for the valley as a whole. These sites are both still cultivated by a few families that live on-site, though an estimated 20-30% of the terraces are fallow and have been re-vegetated by scrub and forest.
The upper collection site is located in the upper east side of the Choque Bamba, with the comparison site being further east by one drainage. The altitude of both collections is 11,500 feet above sea level. Land above these two collection sites was relatively untouched. Land transect data collected at these sites indicates the comparison site actually had high diversity, but largely in the sense of larger trees and other canopy plants. The less frequent appearance of such canopy plants on the terraces likely indicates that the terraces had been cleared in the last several decades. The ground on the terraces was completely covered with moss and grass, where the comparison site had quite a bit of bare dirt.
The lower soil collections were taken at Muska Pujio at an altitude of 10,300 feet above sea level. Most of the terraces at Muska Pujio had been cleared except for a swatch across the middle of the site on the eastern side surrounding a natural spring that had at one point in time been used to water terraces. There was also a second spring that was in the western third of the site. Water tests were collected here and the analysis has possible indications that the terrace structure did encourage higher water purity. Soil samples were taken to the west of the eastern spring. The plant growth was quite dense except for animal paths through the brush. There was also scattered animal feces and indication of consistent grazing. The ground was nearly completely covered by moss and grass at this site as well. The comparison site, located at the same elevation in the next drainage to the west had comparatively sparse vegetation though nearly continuous ground cover as well. The vegetation here and in other areas surrounding the terraces was also noticeably less leafy. This site was also in similar adjacency to a nearby stream where comparative water samples were taken.
At Choquequirao four soil samples were collected in the recently discovered section of the park called the Llama Terraces. This set of terraces covers approximately 800 vertical feet that trace a steep (40°+) drainage that begins just off the top of the main plaza. The terrace walls are typically 6-8 feet in height with a 6-8 foot terrace. The walls are constructed in a unique method that employs thin, vertically stacked rock. In the lower section of the terraces there are a series of llama motifs built into the walls using a contrasting white stone. About 30-40% of the terraces are still uncleared and are densely vegetated with typical tropical plants. The lower soil collections were made at 9,400 feet above sea level for the on-site sample and at 9,450 feet above sea for the off-site comparison. Upper collections were made at 9,750 feet above sea level. Vegetation was considerably more lush and dense on the terraces. The soil was also considerably darker in appearance. Ground cover was complete on the terraces and less so on the adjacent hill sides. The vegetation canopy on site was approximately 20 feet high and about 50% covered at that height. Bamboo growth was prolific on the terraces and quite sparse on the adjacent hillsides. The lower comparison sample was taken from the adjacent hillside to the north where the growth was extremely thick and the soil was quite rocky. The comparison sample for the upper collection was taken to the south of the terraces on the adjacent hillside. Vegetation growth there was sparser and the soil was much dryer.
Observations of the soil composition at the visited sites indicate some strategic construction therein by the planners. It was especially evident at the site of Huimin Pampa in Pisaq that upper terraces, particularly the top terrace, had a much higher quantity of gravel. This likely indicates the strategic structuring of the terrace to both infiltrate and withstand surface runoff to protect the terracing (Kendall 1984). The soil in the mid section of the terraces was a dark and rich garden like soil. In the lower terraces the soil was denser and redder with a higher apparent clay content. The denser, more absorptive soil in the lower section could also indicate the intention of holding water caught by the terraces in the soil for as long as possible to minimize the need for watering and to lengthen the time required between watering. Huimin Pampa was, however, somewhat unique in this particular observation. In part, this could be because of the shorter sections of terraces and thus the ability to quickly observe the different soil constitutions across those sections. A similar observation was made at Qalla Qasa, a set of terraces just up the drainage from Huimin Pampa. It can also be observed that these two sites had greater than average exposure to runoff water flowing into the terraces from above. Qalla Qasa is located just under an Inca cemetery that is built into a large cliff approximately 300 feet high. The land immediately above is not terraced, indicating that in a large storm there would likely be significant runoff onto the terraces below. In 2010 there was extensive flooding of the site and the valley below. Significant damage was done to the Inca drainage channels below these two sites and one of the only known stone bridges was completely washed away (“Ruined” 2010). Huimin Pampa is a bit downstream but is also quite exposed to runoff from the hillside above.
Five soil samples were taken at Pisaq: on-site and off-site samples at Huimin Pampa in addition to a double comparison sample between Qalla Qasa, Inti Huatana, and an off-site sample collected between the two. These sites are all located on slopes surrounding a major drainage fed by high altitude lakes and runoff from both the archaeological site and surrounding areas.
Four soil samples were taken at Ollantaytambo: on-site and off-site samples at Muska Pujio plus on-site and off-site samples at Choque Bamba. Both of these sites are part of one very extensive terracing system that climbs over 2000 vertical feet from the river to the mountain ridge where the terrain plateaus before climbing again to a snowcapped peak at 16,200 feet above sea level. The sites exist in a rain shadow created by the peaks to the north and likely receive rainfall above the average for the valley as a whole. These sites are both still cultivated by a few families that live on-site, though an estimated 20-30% of the terraces are fallow and have been re-vegetated by scrub and forest.
The upper collection site is located in the upper east side of the Choque Bamba, with the comparison site being further east by one drainage. The altitude of both collections is 11,500 feet above sea level. Land above these two collection sites was relatively untouched. Land transect data collected at these sites indicates the comparison site actually had high diversity, but largely in the sense of larger trees and other canopy plants. The less frequent appearance of such canopy plants on the terraces likely indicates that the terraces had been cleared in the last several decades. The ground on the terraces was completely covered with moss and grass, where the comparison site had quite a bit of bare dirt.
The lower soil collections were taken at Muska Pujio at an altitude of 10,300 feet above sea level. Most of the terraces at Muska Pujio had been cleared except for a swatch across the middle of the site on the eastern side surrounding a natural spring that had at one point in time been used to water terraces. There was also a second spring that was in the western third of the site. Water tests were collected here and the analysis has possible indications that the terrace structure did encourage higher water purity. Soil samples were taken to the west of the eastern spring. The plant growth was quite dense except for animal paths through the brush. There was also scattered animal feces and indication of consistent grazing. The ground was nearly completely covered by moss and grass at this site as well. The comparison site, located at the same elevation in the next drainage to the west had comparatively sparse vegetation though nearly continuous ground cover as well. The vegetation here and in other areas surrounding the terraces was also noticeably less leafy. This site was also in similar adjacency to a nearby stream where comparative water samples were taken.
At Choquequirao four soil samples were collected in the recently discovered section of the park called the Llama Terraces. This set of terraces covers approximately 800 vertical feet that trace a steep (40°+) drainage that begins just off the top of the main plaza. The terrace walls are typically 6-8 feet in height with a 6-8 foot terrace. The walls are constructed in a unique method that employs thin, vertically stacked rock. In the lower section of the terraces there are a series of llama motifs built into the walls using a contrasting white stone. About 30-40% of the terraces are still uncleared and are densely vegetated with typical tropical plants. The lower soil collections were made at 9,400 feet above sea level for the on-site sample and at 9,450 feet above sea for the off-site comparison. Upper collections were made at 9,750 feet above sea level. Vegetation was considerably more lush and dense on the terraces. The soil was also considerably darker in appearance. Ground cover was complete on the terraces and less so on the adjacent hill sides. The vegetation canopy on site was approximately 20 feet high and about 50% covered at that height. Bamboo growth was prolific on the terraces and quite sparse on the adjacent hillsides. The lower comparison sample was taken from the adjacent hillside to the north where the growth was extremely thick and the soil was quite rocky. The comparison sample for the upper collection was taken to the south of the terraces on the adjacent hillside. Vegetation growth there was sparser and the soil was much dryer.
Implications of Soil Analysis
The soil analysis performed by A&L Laboratories details to the greatest extent the possible structure and nutrient content of the samples collected (see addendum 3 for the specific data reports). For the purposes of identifying the ecological vitality of the samples collected and to perform the on-site and off-site comparisons this study will focus on four basic traits of the soil data: organic matter content, soil structure, nutrient availability and calcium/magnesium ratio (see addendum 4 for graphical analysis).
Soil Organic Matter Content
Analysis of soil data at all three sites clearly indicates that the percentage of organic matter in the soil was always higher on-site than off-site. This foreseeable yet important piece of information has a number of significant implications.
Firstly, it indicates that there is consistently less erosion on the terraces than on un-terraced hillsides even if the un-terraced areas are heavily forested and remarkably bio-diverse in terms of plant species etc. This is the case both at Ollantaytambo and Choquequirao, and correlates to land transect data collected specifically at Ollantaytambo (see addendum 1). The samples taken at Pisaq were from comparatively more used/visited sites and the off-site sample locations were sparser. This is partially due to the fact that the climate and bioregional character at Pisaq is much dryer and less forested.
Secondly, this indicates a faster and more robust nutrient cycle whereby nutrients are used by plants and redeposited in the soil as the plant matter breaks down. This also indicates a more stable environment because of this regenerative cycling. More of these nutrients are thereby available to animals in the form of plant fodder, in turn suggesting more longevity and resilience of the local ecosystem.
Thirdly, the raised levels of organic matter on the terraced sites will affect soil density and the soil's ability to hold water for longer periods of time, thereby further contributing to the ecological ability to diversify and regenerate (Lowenfels 2010). This third point also has some specific effects within the soil itself in that by having a more stable water content the ability of the soil to foster microbial and mycorrhizal growth is enhanced. This in turn will once again help to increase nutrient bioavailability, soil oxygenation, plant growth, etc.
These observations, like the functioning of all ecosystems, are highly interdependent and cyclical. This virtuous cycle takes time, yet the clear outcome over the course of years is a system that is significantly more stable and vibrant.
The soil analysis performed by A&L Laboratories details to the greatest extent the possible structure and nutrient content of the samples collected (see addendum 3 for the specific data reports). For the purposes of identifying the ecological vitality of the samples collected and to perform the on-site and off-site comparisons this study will focus on four basic traits of the soil data: organic matter content, soil structure, nutrient availability and calcium/magnesium ratio (see addendum 4 for graphical analysis).
Soil Organic Matter Content
Analysis of soil data at all three sites clearly indicates that the percentage of organic matter in the soil was always higher on-site than off-site. This foreseeable yet important piece of information has a number of significant implications.
Firstly, it indicates that there is consistently less erosion on the terraces than on un-terraced hillsides even if the un-terraced areas are heavily forested and remarkably bio-diverse in terms of plant species etc. This is the case both at Ollantaytambo and Choquequirao, and correlates to land transect data collected specifically at Ollantaytambo (see addendum 1). The samples taken at Pisaq were from comparatively more used/visited sites and the off-site sample locations were sparser. This is partially due to the fact that the climate and bioregional character at Pisaq is much dryer and less forested.
Secondly, this indicates a faster and more robust nutrient cycle whereby nutrients are used by plants and redeposited in the soil as the plant matter breaks down. This also indicates a more stable environment because of this regenerative cycling. More of these nutrients are thereby available to animals in the form of plant fodder, in turn suggesting more longevity and resilience of the local ecosystem.
Thirdly, the raised levels of organic matter on the terraced sites will affect soil density and the soil's ability to hold water for longer periods of time, thereby further contributing to the ecological ability to diversify and regenerate (Lowenfels 2010). This third point also has some specific effects within the soil itself in that by having a more stable water content the ability of the soil to foster microbial and mycorrhizal growth is enhanced. This in turn will once again help to increase nutrient bioavailability, soil oxygenation, plant growth, etc.
These observations, like the functioning of all ecosystems, are highly interdependent and cyclical. This virtuous cycle takes time, yet the clear outcome over the course of years is a system that is significantly more stable and vibrant.
Muska Pujio Terraces - Photo by Author Soil Structure
The soil structure had some variations in terms of percentages of sand, silt, and clay; but as a whole this fact is a limited indication of general patterns associated with the ecological effects of the Inca terracing. The other complication with using this data to hypothesize about the general effects of the terraces on soil erosion is that we don’t know exactly what the Inca did in terms of building soil on the terraces and in many cases there is evidence that the terrace soils were structured with gravel and/or clay depending on their aspect and exposure to storm runoff (Kendall 1984). Fertile alluvial soil was sometimes brought up from valleys to the terraces as a top dressing before planting (Morris and Franklin). This, however, is somewhat unproven by this study's analysis because overall soil structure varies quite little (only a few percentage points) between the on-site and off-site comparisons. The only site where there was significant indication that soil had been clearly structured on the terraces was at Pisaq (see addendum 2). But to get a clear picture on the extent and locations of these differences this study would need much more extensive collections and testing. At the moment we have what might be some indications about soil-building strategies and the hypothesis would need to be tested and proven with a more extensive study. Still, even with all of these missing variables we can, on a case-by-case basis, hypothesize about what influences might be attributed to the readings.
The results of the testing at Ollantaytambo are fairly consistent in terms of overall content, having a fairly high ratio of sand to silt and clay. One likely cause of the differences associated with the on-site/off-site contents of silt and clay is likely the slope of the collection sites. This data could be relevant to the characteristics of erosion at the different sites. Because data was not collected as to the layering of the soil on these sites it is difficult to hypothesize what the information might be attributed to. Still, heightened quantities of organic matter, as evidenced in this study, tend to minimize such erosion.
The tests at Choquequirao are more readable in the sense that the overall contents of both on-site and off-site collections are very similar, the only significant difference being a slightly raised quantity of clay in the on-terrace samples.
Pisaq, on the other hand, is much less consistent between on-site and off-site samples. But, because a double comparison could be made at this site between the Huimin Pampa terraces, the off-site sample, and the Intihuatana terraces we can make some more confident assertion about the soil structure. As described in the soil collection notes section there was evidence of purposed soil building at this site, and the double comparison tends to reinforce this evidence. Both of the on-site tests share a fairly stable content structure whereas the off-site collection, taken at the same altitude right between the two sites, has a very different structure with much more clay.
The soil structure had some variations in terms of percentages of sand, silt, and clay; but as a whole this fact is a limited indication of general patterns associated with the ecological effects of the Inca terracing. The other complication with using this data to hypothesize about the general effects of the terraces on soil erosion is that we don’t know exactly what the Inca did in terms of building soil on the terraces and in many cases there is evidence that the terrace soils were structured with gravel and/or clay depending on their aspect and exposure to storm runoff (Kendall 1984). Fertile alluvial soil was sometimes brought up from valleys to the terraces as a top dressing before planting (Morris and Franklin). This, however, is somewhat unproven by this study's analysis because overall soil structure varies quite little (only a few percentage points) between the on-site and off-site comparisons. The only site where there was significant indication that soil had been clearly structured on the terraces was at Pisaq (see addendum 2). But to get a clear picture on the extent and locations of these differences this study would need much more extensive collections and testing. At the moment we have what might be some indications about soil-building strategies and the hypothesis would need to be tested and proven with a more extensive study. Still, even with all of these missing variables we can, on a case-by-case basis, hypothesize about what influences might be attributed to the readings.
The results of the testing at Ollantaytambo are fairly consistent in terms of overall content, having a fairly high ratio of sand to silt and clay. One likely cause of the differences associated with the on-site/off-site contents of silt and clay is likely the slope of the collection sites. This data could be relevant to the characteristics of erosion at the different sites. Because data was not collected as to the layering of the soil on these sites it is difficult to hypothesize what the information might be attributed to. Still, heightened quantities of organic matter, as evidenced in this study, tend to minimize such erosion.
The tests at Choquequirao are more readable in the sense that the overall contents of both on-site and off-site collections are very similar, the only significant difference being a slightly raised quantity of clay in the on-terrace samples.
Pisaq, on the other hand, is much less consistent between on-site and off-site samples. But, because a double comparison could be made at this site between the Huimin Pampa terraces, the off-site sample, and the Intihuatana terraces we can make some more confident assertion about the soil structure. As described in the soil collection notes section there was evidence of purposed soil building at this site, and the double comparison tends to reinforce this evidence. Both of the on-site tests share a fairly stable content structure whereas the off-site collection, taken at the same altitude right between the two sites, has a very different structure with much more clay.
| Mineral Content/Availability The aspect of the test that is most consistent—other than organic matter content—is the tests for soil nutrient content. A&L Labs performed 20 tests for minerals and nutrients in the soil samples. Though the values are not all equally consistent or indicative in themselves, the overall pattern of these values has some interesting indications. In the graphs (see addendum 4) this pattern is quite evident. These graphical illustrations were created to compare the values of nutrient content to each other on a scale (set by A&L Labs) that estimates these values as relative to standard ideal agricultural soil. In this case where the on-terrace values were higher a green area was plotted, indicating how much and where these values are raised. The same was done where off-site values exceeded those on-site using the color purple in the graph. Generally, we can see that across all the data collections there is pattern of significantly more green in the graph than purple thereby illustrating that there are consistently more available minerals and other nutrients on the terraces. We can tie this finding back to three major themes in our analysis. First, less erosion leaves these minerals |  Choquequirao Llama terraces - Photo by Author |
in the soil rather than in storm water runoff. Second, the fact feeds back to the nutrient cycle and organic matter content. More plant matter increases the nutrient cycle, thereby also increasing organic mater content in the soil. Third, this also creates a better environment for mycorrhizal fungi and other microbial life, which further increases the bioavailability of these nutrients.
Further study could also be completed to perform a comparative analysis of phosphorous quantities in plants both on and off the terraces, however the raised levels of organic matter on the terraces as well raised levels of phosphorous content in the soil indicates significantly more bioavailability (Hemwall 1957), and is further substantiated by water quality testing (see below). This trend would likely be continue to be evident if a plant matter nutrient content analysis was performed as observations of onsite and offsite vegetation and land transect data collected at Ollantaytambo strongly indicates a higher concentration of leafy and greener plant types on the terraces (Schachtman, Reid, and Ayling 1998). This trend would continue to indicate higher rates of bioavailability of phosphorous as well as a more robust nutrient cycle as a whole (Chen et al. 2013).
Calcium/Magnesium Ratio
The calcium/magnesium ratio is indicative of two essential aspects of this study. First it is a good indicator of soil structure. When the ratio is low—around 2:1 or less—it indicates the soil is overly dense, typically sticky when wet and very hard when dry. The ideal ratio is typically between 5:1 and 7:1 when considering soil structure. Soil with a high ratio—above 10:1—tends to be somewhat dispersible (From the Soil Up 2012). The data in this study indicates significantly more stability, or has a tendency to test in the ideal range, of the Ca/Mg ratio where the samples were collected from terraced areas, with one exception: on the upper collection site at Choquequirao, all the on site samples show a Ca/Mg ratio between 5 and 8. This exception, however, is interesting because even though the on-site data has a calculated ratio of 11.4:1 it is compared to an off-site ratio of 32.1:1. When the off-site sample for the upper terraces at Choquequirao was collected it was noted that the soil was quite dusty and loose. In this fashion, even at this location where we have such extreme variation, the soil collected on the terraces is significantly more stable than the soil collected on the adjacent hillside. In a less extreme fashion, the tests at Pisaq also indicate a higher probability of the soil maintaining an ideal Ca/Mg ratio where terracing has been employed. The samples taken at Ollantaytambo indicate less variation which also correlates back to the quality of ecosystems there as noted by the land transect and water quality testing.
The second piece of key information associated with the Ca/Mg ratios is that soils with a ratio around 7:1 are far more likely to support a vibrant microbial and fungal/mycorrhizal life. The closer to the 7:1 ratio the soil is, the more aerobic in nature the conditions will be. This allows beneficial aerobic microorganisms, mycorrhizae being one of the many important microbes that requires aerobic conditions, to establish and proliferate (Albrecht and Walters 2011). Mycorrhizal fungi are known to improve nutrient and moisture uptake, as well as disrupt parasitic and pathogenic microbes in the host plant (Bongard 2012). Due to financial and time restrictions biological soil testing was not performed for the samples of this study; therefore the Ca/Mg ratio is the most indicative information we have in order to hypothesize about the key aspect that is the soil biology of these sites. Evidence also shows that mycorrhizal fungi also act as a safeguard against invasive species taking hold in a given ecosystem (Bongard 2012). The patterns associated with the test performed once again indicate that Ca/Mg ratios in the soil were more likely to be close to a 7:1 ratio on the terraced sites.
Further study could also be completed to perform a comparative analysis of phosphorous quantities in plants both on and off the terraces, however the raised levels of organic matter on the terraces as well raised levels of phosphorous content in the soil indicates significantly more bioavailability (Hemwall 1957), and is further substantiated by water quality testing (see below). This trend would likely be continue to be evident if a plant matter nutrient content analysis was performed as observations of onsite and offsite vegetation and land transect data collected at Ollantaytambo strongly indicates a higher concentration of leafy and greener plant types on the terraces (Schachtman, Reid, and Ayling 1998). This trend would continue to indicate higher rates of bioavailability of phosphorous as well as a more robust nutrient cycle as a whole (Chen et al. 2013).
Calcium/Magnesium Ratio
The calcium/magnesium ratio is indicative of two essential aspects of this study. First it is a good indicator of soil structure. When the ratio is low—around 2:1 or less—it indicates the soil is overly dense, typically sticky when wet and very hard when dry. The ideal ratio is typically between 5:1 and 7:1 when considering soil structure. Soil with a high ratio—above 10:1—tends to be somewhat dispersible (From the Soil Up 2012). The data in this study indicates significantly more stability, or has a tendency to test in the ideal range, of the Ca/Mg ratio where the samples were collected from terraced areas, with one exception: on the upper collection site at Choquequirao, all the on site samples show a Ca/Mg ratio between 5 and 8. This exception, however, is interesting because even though the on-site data has a calculated ratio of 11.4:1 it is compared to an off-site ratio of 32.1:1. When the off-site sample for the upper terraces at Choquequirao was collected it was noted that the soil was quite dusty and loose. In this fashion, even at this location where we have such extreme variation, the soil collected on the terraces is significantly more stable than the soil collected on the adjacent hillside. In a less extreme fashion, the tests at Pisaq also indicate a higher probability of the soil maintaining an ideal Ca/Mg ratio where terracing has been employed. The samples taken at Ollantaytambo indicate less variation which also correlates back to the quality of ecosystems there as noted by the land transect and water quality testing.
The second piece of key information associated with the Ca/Mg ratios is that soils with a ratio around 7:1 are far more likely to support a vibrant microbial and fungal/mycorrhizal life. The closer to the 7:1 ratio the soil is, the more aerobic in nature the conditions will be. This allows beneficial aerobic microorganisms, mycorrhizae being one of the many important microbes that requires aerobic conditions, to establish and proliferate (Albrecht and Walters 2011). Mycorrhizal fungi are known to improve nutrient and moisture uptake, as well as disrupt parasitic and pathogenic microbes in the host plant (Bongard 2012). Due to financial and time restrictions biological soil testing was not performed for the samples of this study; therefore the Ca/Mg ratio is the most indicative information we have in order to hypothesize about the key aspect that is the soil biology of these sites. Evidence also shows that mycorrhizal fungi also act as a safeguard against invasive species taking hold in a given ecosystem (Bongard 2012). The patterns associated with the test performed once again indicate that Ca/Mg ratios in the soil were more likely to be close to a 7:1 ratio on the terraced sites.
Water Testing on Terraced Sites
Water testing was completed in several locations though there was not the presence of water at every site. Tests completed at Muska Pujio in Ollantaytambo indicate that the water quality on the terraces was, on average, of a higher quality than water in the natural streambed. The on-site spring tests were collected from a spring that cascaded down a series of 10 terraces (see addendum 5). Water at the spring’s source was quite pure. As the water moved down the terraces the water stayed quite clean both in terms of turbidity and nitrogen content. There was a slight rise in phosphorous content, which was likely absorbed from animal droppings on the lower 8 terraces. The pH reading of the water also rose from 8.1 at the source to 8.6 at the bottom of the terraces. The comparison samples were collected from a spring in the valley just to the west of Muska Pujio. The distance from the source to the bottom test was considerably longer than the distance on the terraces. This was due to the fact that the water source was much higher in elevation on the mountainside. The pH of the comparison study remained more stable than on site. There was evidence of some animals grazing and some farming around the spring as the water proceeded down the valley. Nitrogen readings were very low here as well. Phosphorous, on the other hand, was quite a bit higher than on the terraces and varied substantially more from top to bottom. It is clear that less erosion on the terraces leaves more phosphorus there because storm water runoff is reduced. As phosphorous is a highly sorptive nutrient in soil and it is easily washed away through erosion, the terraces have consistently stabilized phosphorous quantities. This is also supported by collected data indicating higher concentrations of organic matter in the soil on terraced landscape.
This evidence could indicate that the terrace structure encouraged more water permeation into and filtration through the soil. Much of the water would be pouring out of the rocks at each terrace wall indicating that the water would infiltrate on the terrace and then come to the surface again when the ground surface was cut by the terrace wall. The effect that this seems to have had on the water was to minimize contamination by surface pollutants, mainly animal droppings. Where the comparison tests went through areas where there was livestock the water absorbed more of the pollutants indicated by higher variability of the sample readings. This hypothesis is still preliminary as there would need to be significantly more testing done at more sites to provide certainty about the effects of the terraces on surface water quality. Still, the preliminary data does indicate that significant ecological benefits associated with water quality are likely attributable to terracing systems.
Tests taken at Pisaq at a spring in the Qalla Qasa section of the park indicate similar findings though there was no comparison available for collection. The spring emanated below a large tree that clung to a boulder and then poured through about 9 terraces. The spring once fed an Inca channel that traveled on a wall down the canyon for several hundred feet before crossing what is thought to have been a stone bridge about 25 feet off the ground. The channel then continued through the cliffs to the ceremonial fountains and baths at Intihuatana. Some of the lower terraces were somewhat disturbed, breaking, and even falling apart partially due to a concrete reservoir which had been installed for water diversion. The water was then piped along the Inca route to Intihuatana. Turbidity was lower from the source to the middle section of the terraces, and then rose again by the time it reached the bottom. This could be due to the partial collapse of some of the lower terraces. Nitrogen and phosphorous readings maintained fairly stable and there was only minimal indication of the grazing sheep nearby. In this test the pH also rose slightly, which is again likely attributable to the geological makeup of the soils having considerable salt deposits in the surrounding areas (Wright 2011).
Water testing was completed in several locations though there was not the presence of water at every site. Tests completed at Muska Pujio in Ollantaytambo indicate that the water quality on the terraces was, on average, of a higher quality than water in the natural streambed. The on-site spring tests were collected from a spring that cascaded down a series of 10 terraces (see addendum 5). Water at the spring’s source was quite pure. As the water moved down the terraces the water stayed quite clean both in terms of turbidity and nitrogen content. There was a slight rise in phosphorous content, which was likely absorbed from animal droppings on the lower 8 terraces. The pH reading of the water also rose from 8.1 at the source to 8.6 at the bottom of the terraces. The comparison samples were collected from a spring in the valley just to the west of Muska Pujio. The distance from the source to the bottom test was considerably longer than the distance on the terraces. This was due to the fact that the water source was much higher in elevation on the mountainside. The pH of the comparison study remained more stable than on site. There was evidence of some animals grazing and some farming around the spring as the water proceeded down the valley. Nitrogen readings were very low here as well. Phosphorous, on the other hand, was quite a bit higher than on the terraces and varied substantially more from top to bottom. It is clear that less erosion on the terraces leaves more phosphorus there because storm water runoff is reduced. As phosphorous is a highly sorptive nutrient in soil and it is easily washed away through erosion, the terraces have consistently stabilized phosphorous quantities. This is also supported by collected data indicating higher concentrations of organic matter in the soil on terraced landscape.
This evidence could indicate that the terrace structure encouraged more water permeation into and filtration through the soil. Much of the water would be pouring out of the rocks at each terrace wall indicating that the water would infiltrate on the terrace and then come to the surface again when the ground surface was cut by the terrace wall. The effect that this seems to have had on the water was to minimize contamination by surface pollutants, mainly animal droppings. Where the comparison tests went through areas where there was livestock the water absorbed more of the pollutants indicated by higher variability of the sample readings. This hypothesis is still preliminary as there would need to be significantly more testing done at more sites to provide certainty about the effects of the terraces on surface water quality. Still, the preliminary data does indicate that significant ecological benefits associated with water quality are likely attributable to terracing systems.
Tests taken at Pisaq at a spring in the Qalla Qasa section of the park indicate similar findings though there was no comparison available for collection. The spring emanated below a large tree that clung to a boulder and then poured through about 9 terraces. The spring once fed an Inca channel that traveled on a wall down the canyon for several hundred feet before crossing what is thought to have been a stone bridge about 25 feet off the ground. The channel then continued through the cliffs to the ceremonial fountains and baths at Intihuatana. Some of the lower terraces were somewhat disturbed, breaking, and even falling apart partially due to a concrete reservoir which had been installed for water diversion. The water was then piped along the Inca route to Intihuatana. Turbidity was lower from the source to the middle section of the terraces, and then rose again by the time it reached the bottom. This could be due to the partial collapse of some of the lower terraces. Nitrogen and phosphorous readings maintained fairly stable and there was only minimal indication of the grazing sheep nearby. In this test the pH also rose slightly, which is again likely attributable to the geological makeup of the soils having considerable salt deposits in the surrounding areas (Wright 2011).
Observation of Highland Swales
During a trek from Cusco to the ruins at Huchuy Qosco observations were made as to the extensive use of swales on the mountain pass between Cusco and the Sacred Valley. Swales are a word used for shallow trenches dug on contour to collect storm water and allow it to infiltrate the soil. The swales at this site began at an elevation of 3800 meters and continued to an elevation of 4500 meters, and occurred at a frequency of approximately 20 meters across the entire visible section of the mountain. At this specific site a natural spring was flowing at an elevation of about 3900 meters where the water was channeled to a series of highland farming sites. The swales located above this spring likely prolong how long the spring flows during the dry season, effectively extending the growing season for the families of subsistence farmers who rely on this water source for their livelihoods. By speaking with local farmers one could at least hypothesize that this strategy had been used extensively across Tawantinsuyu (the Inca Empire) during the Inca rule. There is evidence of both Inca and pre-Inca use of this technology in a number of locations. One clear example is above the site of Tipón where stones were used to reinforce the swale system (Wright, McEwan, and Wright 2006). However, swales of the impermanent type, as documented on the Huchuy Qosco pass, would not last long enough for their long-term benefits to be studied, at least as part of this research. Also no historic documentation of this specific practice of the creation of trenched swales has been encountered to this date by the author of this report.
The Cusco side of this pass had extensive swales while the other side did not. The side of the pass that was terraformed, in this way, showed little-to-no signs of erosion and had near complete ground cover of native grasses and highland flora. The side of the pass the was not terraformed showed significant signs of erosion with substantial gullies or arroyos as deep as 10 meters where water runoff concentrated. Our research team camped at the top of the pass at 4500 meters. In the morning there were strong winds with blowing snow and sleet. Due to altitude sickness we were forced to descend the mountain without testing the storm water runoff. However the observation could clearly be made that storm water runoff on the Cusco side of the pass was fairly clear. On the Chinchero/Puray side the water could be visually identified has having significantly more turbidity.
Water Testing on Inca Fountains
Some water tests were also completed at Wiñay Wayna on the fountains there. The turbidity readings and the pH readings in these samples are most indicative of the effect of the fountains. pH readings rose slightly as the water went through the fountains, attributable again to the salt content in the rock. Turbidity readings diminished from top to bottom indicating that particulates were able to settle out as the water passed through the fountains. Similar tests were completed at Ollantaytambo on the fountains there. The data collected from these tests also shows a significant reduction in turbidity.
During a trek from Cusco to the ruins at Huchuy Qosco observations were made as to the extensive use of swales on the mountain pass between Cusco and the Sacred Valley. Swales are a word used for shallow trenches dug on contour to collect storm water and allow it to infiltrate the soil. The swales at this site began at an elevation of 3800 meters and continued to an elevation of 4500 meters, and occurred at a frequency of approximately 20 meters across the entire visible section of the mountain. At this specific site a natural spring was flowing at an elevation of about 3900 meters where the water was channeled to a series of highland farming sites. The swales located above this spring likely prolong how long the spring flows during the dry season, effectively extending the growing season for the families of subsistence farmers who rely on this water source for their livelihoods. By speaking with local farmers one could at least hypothesize that this strategy had been used extensively across Tawantinsuyu (the Inca Empire) during the Inca rule. There is evidence of both Inca and pre-Inca use of this technology in a number of locations. One clear example is above the site of Tipón where stones were used to reinforce the swale system (Wright, McEwan, and Wright 2006). However, swales of the impermanent type, as documented on the Huchuy Qosco pass, would not last long enough for their long-term benefits to be studied, at least as part of this research. Also no historic documentation of this specific practice of the creation of trenched swales has been encountered to this date by the author of this report.
The Cusco side of this pass had extensive swales while the other side did not. The side of the pass that was terraformed, in this way, showed little-to-no signs of erosion and had near complete ground cover of native grasses and highland flora. The side of the pass the was not terraformed showed significant signs of erosion with substantial gullies or arroyos as deep as 10 meters where water runoff concentrated. Our research team camped at the top of the pass at 4500 meters. In the morning there were strong winds with blowing snow and sleet. Due to altitude sickness we were forced to descend the mountain without testing the storm water runoff. However the observation could clearly be made that storm water runoff on the Cusco side of the pass was fairly clear. On the Chinchero/Puray side the water could be visually identified has having significantly more turbidity.
Water Testing on Inca Fountains
Some water tests were also completed at Wiñay Wayna on the fountains there. The turbidity readings and the pH readings in these samples are most indicative of the effect of the fountains. pH readings rose slightly as the water went through the fountains, attributable again to the salt content in the rock. Turbidity readings diminished from top to bottom indicating that particulates were able to settle out as the water passed through the fountains. Similar tests were completed at Ollantaytambo on the fountains there. The data collected from these tests also shows a significant reduction in turbidity.
Conclusions
Inca planning and architecture was highly sensitive to the environment. As diverse and varied as the climate and landscape of Tawantinsuyu was, there were certain strategies of urbanization that helped create a highly stable system of agriculture that have also in the years since had significant impacts on regional ecology. These strategies were not of Inca origin, in the sense that earlier Andean civilizations initiated and spread the use of terracing and construction techniques (Von Hagen 1998), but much of the significant remnants of the Andean terracing systems were built by the Inca.
The main terraforming practice employed in the Andes was the wide-spread use of terracing systems to create agricultural land while also stabilizing and encouraging storm water retention. Another practice that was also employed was the use of swales in the highlands. This strategy has similar effects to the terracing systems in terms of soil stabilization and storm water attenuation; however, the effects are more temporary in that the earthworks will likely last for a few years, or at most a decade, as opposed to the hundreds of years we see in terms of the terracing systems. What is interesting about this comparison is that in many cases of contemporary ecological restoration practices the implementation of extensive terracing systems is likely unviable due to economic and labor restraints; the application of a system of swales is far more practical and could give the soil and ecology the kind of foothold it needs to commence the process of regeneration.
If not conclusive, this research serves to address aspects of Inca design strategy that have not been previously documented in a scientific method. We have found a clear indication that the strategies the Inca employed, in terms of terraforming and the overall relationships developed between their urban and agricultural systems with the natural biomes of the Andean mountains, have had a significant impact on the long term health of those ecologies. This study also indicates that significantly more knowledge might be obtained if more data were to be collected through a greater study using the principles and strategies outlined within this report.
The relationships between architecture, the built environment, and the systems that support urban life with the earth that we live on are of paramount importance when we think of the future of humanity and all other forms of life that depend on this planet’s resources to survive. Though apparently quite simple the strategies employed by the Inca and other Andean civilizations may be some of the most advanced that this earth has seen when considering sustainability as a multidimensional set of coevolutionary relationships. Humanity has a heavy footprint on this planet and the acceptance of this fact indicates that in few situations is it really an ecological advantage to leave nature to its own devices. Architecture should be considered part of the ecological framework that makes up life on earth. If we shape our urban systems to support biodiversity from the micro elemental and biological structure of the soil on up to the scale of the management of entire watersheds and even weather patterns we might be able to leave a world for our descendants that is even more abundant and enchanted than the one we know today. The hope is that the findings encountered in this study might help to justify and support an expanded look into the development of urban design strategies that seek to achieve this goal.
Endnotes:
1. The process for conducting a vegetation transect using the frequency method is to select a land location and a quadrant size, in this case 1m x 75m in a random direction, and then cataloging the location and types of vegetation within that area. The process will be repeated a minimum of 5 times at each location to ensure the statistical validity of the data.
2. See (“Can the Inca Site of Choqek’iraw Be Considered an Agro-Pastoral Calendar?: Ñawpa Pacha: Vol 33, No 1” 2014) for more information.
3. This term is borrowed from both economics terminology where it references the process by which economic growth in one sector influences similar growth in another, thereby creating a cycle that builds the overall system (Webel and Galtung 2007). The term is also used when referencing urban systems in that inputs into the urban pattern can play off each other creating co-evolutionary cycles (Childs 2012). In this studies case we are using to reference the co-evolutionary tendencies of the specific biomes in consideration.
Bibliography
Albrecht, William A, and Charles Walters. 2011. Albrecht on Calcium: The Albrecht Papers, Volume V. Austin, Tex.: Acres U.S.A.
Assadourian, Erik, Michael Renner, Linda Starke, and Worldwatch Institute. 2012. State of the World 2012 : Moving toward Sustainable Prosperity : A Worldwatch Institute Report on Progress toward a Sustainable Society. Washington, DC: Island Press.
Bongard, Cindy. 2012. “A Review of the Influence of Root-Associating Fungi and Root Exudates on the Success of Invasive Plants.” NeoBiota (14): 22–45. doi:10.3897/neobiota.14.2927.
“Can the Inca Site of Choqek’iraw Be Considered an Agro-Pastoral Calendar?: Ñawpa Pacha: Vol 33, No 1.” 2014. Accessed February 10. http://www.maneyonline.com.libproxy.unm.edu/doi/full/10.1179/0077629713Z.0000000003.
Chen, Yahan, Wenxuan Han, Luying Tang, Zhiyao Tang, and Jingyun Fang. 2013. “Leaf Nitrogen and Phosphorus Concentrations of Woody Plants Differ in Responses to Climate, Soil and Plant Growth Form.” Ecography 36 (2): 178–84. doi:10.1111/j.1600-0587.2011.06833.x.
Childs, Mark C. 2012. Urban Composition: Developing Community through Design. 1st ed. Princeton Architectural Press.
From the Soil Up. 2012. “Ca/mg Ratio.” From the Soil Up. April 6. http://www.fromthesoilup.com.au/soil-topics-menu-28/camg-ratio-topics-menu-53.
Hemwall, John B. 1957. “The Fixation of Phosphorus by Soils.” In Advances in Agronomy, edited by A.G. Norman, Volume 9:95–112. Academic Press. http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0065211308601108.
Kendall, Ann. 1984. Current Archaeological Projects in the Central Andes: Some Approaches and Results. B.A.R.
Lowenfels, Jeff. 2010. Teaming with Microbes: The Organic Gardener’s Guide to the Soil Food Web. Rev. ed. Portland, Or: Timber Press.
Mitchell, Mark K., William B. Stapp, and Kevin Bixby. 2000. Field Manual for Water Quality Monitoring: An Environmental Education Program for Schools. 12th ed. William B Stapp.
Morris, Craig, Pease G. Y, and Santillana, Julián Franklin. Los incas: arte y símbolos. Lima: Banco de Crédito del Perú.
Mosley, J. C., S. C. Bunting, and M. Hironaka. 1989. “Quadrat and Sample Sizes for Frequency Sampling Mountain Meadow Vegetation.” Western North American Naturalist 49 (2): 241–48.
“Ruined.” 2010. The Economist, February 11. http://www.economist.com/node/15501877.
Schachtman, Daniel P., Robert J. Reid, and S. M. Ayling. 1998. “Phosphorus Uptake by Plants: From Soil to Cell.” Plant Physiology 116 (2): 447–53. doi:10.1104/pp.116.2.447.
Von Hagen, Adriana. 1998. The Cities of the Ancient Andes. New York, N.Y: Thames and Hudson.
Webel, Charles, and Johan Galtung. 2007. Handbook of Peace and Conflict Studies. Routledge.
Wright, Kenneth R, Gordon Francis McEwan, and Ruth M Wright. 2006. Tipon: Water Engineering Masterpiece of the Inca Empire. Reston, Va.: American Society of Civil Engineers.
Wright, Kenneth R. 2011. Moray: Inca Engineering Mystery. Reston, Va: American Society of Civil Engineers.
Addendum 1 - Land Transect Data
Addendum 2 - Soil Collection Notes
Addendum 3 -
Soil Analysis Reports - A&L Western Analysis - Page 1
Soil Analysis Reports - A&L Western Analysis - Page 2
Addendum 4 - Soil Comparison Graphs
Addendum 5 - Water Testing Records
]]>Inca planning and architecture was highly sensitive to the environment. As diverse and varied as the climate and landscape of Tawantinsuyu was, there were certain strategies of urbanization that helped create a highly stable system of agriculture that have also in the years since had significant impacts on regional ecology. These strategies were not of Inca origin, in the sense that earlier Andean civilizations initiated and spread the use of terracing and construction techniques (Von Hagen 1998), but much of the significant remnants of the Andean terracing systems were built by the Inca.
The main terraforming practice employed in the Andes was the wide-spread use of terracing systems to create agricultural land while also stabilizing and encouraging storm water retention. Another practice that was also employed was the use of swales in the highlands. This strategy has similar effects to the terracing systems in terms of soil stabilization and storm water attenuation; however, the effects are more temporary in that the earthworks will likely last for a few years, or at most a decade, as opposed to the hundreds of years we see in terms of the terracing systems. What is interesting about this comparison is that in many cases of contemporary ecological restoration practices the implementation of extensive terracing systems is likely unviable due to economic and labor restraints; the application of a system of swales is far more practical and could give the soil and ecology the kind of foothold it needs to commence the process of regeneration.
If not conclusive, this research serves to address aspects of Inca design strategy that have not been previously documented in a scientific method. We have found a clear indication that the strategies the Inca employed, in terms of terraforming and the overall relationships developed between their urban and agricultural systems with the natural biomes of the Andean mountains, have had a significant impact on the long term health of those ecologies. This study also indicates that significantly more knowledge might be obtained if more data were to be collected through a greater study using the principles and strategies outlined within this report.
The relationships between architecture, the built environment, and the systems that support urban life with the earth that we live on are of paramount importance when we think of the future of humanity and all other forms of life that depend on this planet’s resources to survive. Though apparently quite simple the strategies employed by the Inca and other Andean civilizations may be some of the most advanced that this earth has seen when considering sustainability as a multidimensional set of coevolutionary relationships. Humanity has a heavy footprint on this planet and the acceptance of this fact indicates that in few situations is it really an ecological advantage to leave nature to its own devices. Architecture should be considered part of the ecological framework that makes up life on earth. If we shape our urban systems to support biodiversity from the micro elemental and biological structure of the soil on up to the scale of the management of entire watersheds and even weather patterns we might be able to leave a world for our descendants that is even more abundant and enchanted than the one we know today. The hope is that the findings encountered in this study might help to justify and support an expanded look into the development of urban design strategies that seek to achieve this goal.
Endnotes:
1. The process for conducting a vegetation transect using the frequency method is to select a land location and a quadrant size, in this case 1m x 75m in a random direction, and then cataloging the location and types of vegetation within that area. The process will be repeated a minimum of 5 times at each location to ensure the statistical validity of the data.
2. See (“Can the Inca Site of Choqek’iraw Be Considered an Agro-Pastoral Calendar?: Ñawpa Pacha: Vol 33, No 1” 2014) for more information.
3. This term is borrowed from both economics terminology where it references the process by which economic growth in one sector influences similar growth in another, thereby creating a cycle that builds the overall system (Webel and Galtung 2007). The term is also used when referencing urban systems in that inputs into the urban pattern can play off each other creating co-evolutionary cycles (Childs 2012). In this studies case we are using to reference the co-evolutionary tendencies of the specific biomes in consideration.
Bibliography
Albrecht, William A, and Charles Walters. 2011. Albrecht on Calcium: The Albrecht Papers, Volume V. Austin, Tex.: Acres U.S.A.
Assadourian, Erik, Michael Renner, Linda Starke, and Worldwatch Institute. 2012. State of the World 2012 : Moving toward Sustainable Prosperity : A Worldwatch Institute Report on Progress toward a Sustainable Society. Washington, DC: Island Press.
Bongard, Cindy. 2012. “A Review of the Influence of Root-Associating Fungi and Root Exudates on the Success of Invasive Plants.” NeoBiota (14): 22–45. doi:10.3897/neobiota.14.2927.
“Can the Inca Site of Choqek’iraw Be Considered an Agro-Pastoral Calendar?: Ñawpa Pacha: Vol 33, No 1.” 2014. Accessed February 10. http://www.maneyonline.com.libproxy.unm.edu/doi/full/10.1179/0077629713Z.0000000003.
Chen, Yahan, Wenxuan Han, Luying Tang, Zhiyao Tang, and Jingyun Fang. 2013. “Leaf Nitrogen and Phosphorus Concentrations of Woody Plants Differ in Responses to Climate, Soil and Plant Growth Form.” Ecography 36 (2): 178–84. doi:10.1111/j.1600-0587.2011.06833.x.
Childs, Mark C. 2012. Urban Composition: Developing Community through Design. 1st ed. Princeton Architectural Press.
From the Soil Up. 2012. “Ca/mg Ratio.” From the Soil Up. April 6. http://www.fromthesoilup.com.au/soil-topics-menu-28/camg-ratio-topics-menu-53.
Hemwall, John B. 1957. “The Fixation of Phosphorus by Soils.” In Advances in Agronomy, edited by A.G. Norman, Volume 9:95–112. Academic Press. http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0065211308601108.
Kendall, Ann. 1984. Current Archaeological Projects in the Central Andes: Some Approaches and Results. B.A.R.
Lowenfels, Jeff. 2010. Teaming with Microbes: The Organic Gardener’s Guide to the Soil Food Web. Rev. ed. Portland, Or: Timber Press.
Mitchell, Mark K., William B. Stapp, and Kevin Bixby. 2000. Field Manual for Water Quality Monitoring: An Environmental Education Program for Schools. 12th ed. William B Stapp.
Morris, Craig, Pease G. Y, and Santillana, Julián Franklin. Los incas: arte y símbolos. Lima: Banco de Crédito del Perú.
Mosley, J. C., S. C. Bunting, and M. Hironaka. 1989. “Quadrat and Sample Sizes for Frequency Sampling Mountain Meadow Vegetation.” Western North American Naturalist 49 (2): 241–48.
“Ruined.” 2010. The Economist, February 11. http://www.economist.com/node/15501877.
Schachtman, Daniel P., Robert J. Reid, and S. M. Ayling. 1998. “Phosphorus Uptake by Plants: From Soil to Cell.” Plant Physiology 116 (2): 447–53. doi:10.1104/pp.116.2.447.
Von Hagen, Adriana. 1998. The Cities of the Ancient Andes. New York, N.Y: Thames and Hudson.
Webel, Charles, and Johan Galtung. 2007. Handbook of Peace and Conflict Studies. Routledge.
Wright, Kenneth R, Gordon Francis McEwan, and Ruth M Wright. 2006. Tipon: Water Engineering Masterpiece of the Inca Empire. Reston, Va.: American Society of Civil Engineers.
Wright, Kenneth R. 2011. Moray: Inca Engineering Mystery. Reston, Va: American Society of Civil Engineers.
Addendum 1 - Land Transect Data
Addendum 2 - Soil Collection Notes
Addendum 3 -
Soil Analysis Reports - A&L Western Analysis - Page 1
Soil Analysis Reports - A&L Western Analysis - Page 2
Addendum 4 - Soil Comparison Graphs
Addendum 5 - Water Testing Records
Annick Benavides
Annick earned her M.A. in Art History in 2013 from UNM.
Defense of the Eucharist paintings portray an eternal conflict - that between Spanish monarch and non-believers, but more importantly, that between balanced and complementary opponents. Defense paintings ultimately honor the reciprocity between idolatry and orthodox religion, and they owe their inception to the unique circumstances of viceregal Peru. The invention of the iconography can be attributed to an Andean affinity for understanding triumph as the coming together of festive, complementary opponents. Colonial dictionaries describe tinku (tinkuy) and its many linguistic permutations, both in Quechua and Aymara, as a place of union where two opposing yet complementary forces have come together to form something new and powerful.
This research was made possible in part by funding from the Latin American & Iberian Institute and Tinker Foundation Field Research Grant (FRG). For more information about the FRG, visit the LAII website.
Radio Ixchel, Sam Pango, Guatemala This summer my thesis research had me travelling though the Sierra Madre Mountains in Guatemala to conduct field research on my Master’s thesis on community radio and international development. While weaving through the Highlands to various research sites on the legendary camionetas (local buses), I had three goals in mind: (1) to learn how local community development in the Guatemalan Highlands is in part facilitated through the international NGO, Cultural Survival’s Community Radio Project; (2) to understand how local issues of indigenous rights and development inform the international development goals of Cultural Survival; and (3) to observe how community radio is used as a tool in local development efforts. I approached the democratization of media, indigenous rights, alternative community-based planning, and international development using three field methodologies: (1) interviewing community radio volunteers and Cultural Survival’s Radio Project Coordinators; (2) observing community radio workshops that Cultural Survival attended; (3) listening to community radio broadcasts.
Community Radio in Guatemala
Guatemalan community radio is different from community radio in other Latin American countries because Indigenous peoples make up the majority of Guatemala’s population at approximately 60 percent and speak 24 different languages including Spanish. Broadcasting in indigenous languages, community-based radio stations are very localized. Providing news, education, and public services to communities that otherwise would not have access to media in their native language, community radio is by far the most effective method of circulating information among culturally, linguistically, and geographically isolated communities. It has been argued that these stations are instrumental in the reconstruction of Guatemalan democracy in a country where indigenous communities have suffered social, economic and political disparities after 36 years of armed conflict.
The ability to receive and convey information and ideas through media outlets was recognized as a fundamental right in the 1996 Guatemalan Peace Accords. With more than 240 stations, community radio broadcasters are not protected by the current Law of Telecommunications. Known as “pirate” stations, community radio is viewed as a threat to the national commercial stations. Currently, no one community station is officially recognized by the Guatemalan government.
The threat to commercial interests is questionable since the non-conglomerated community radio frequencies cover only a few square miles. The government currently charges around $28,000 for bandwidth access. This means that every station that wants to broadcast must apply and pay for a one-time license to transmit its content over the airwaves. As most community radio stations cannot afford such an expensive access fee, they broadcast illegally. It is then common for religious or commercial groups to purchase the rights to the community’s radio frequency. Even though the Guatemalan constitution theoretically ensures public access to media sources, the reality is that community radio stations are continually at risk of being raided by the police, their equipment confiscated, and radio volunteers arrested.
The failure of the government to recognize indigenous peoples’ right to access to media sources as defined in the UN’s Declaration of Indigenous Rights has brought about reactionary legislation proposals, outcry from community activists, and the grassroots based Community Radio Movement. The Declaration states that “Indigenous peoples have the right to establish their own media in their own languages and to have access to all forms of non-indigenous media without discrimination.” Deeming the current media policies as unjust, community and indigenous activists throughout Guatemala are fighting for greater and just media access.
Guatemalan community radio is different from community radio in other Latin American countries because Indigenous peoples make up the majority of Guatemala’s population at approximately 60 percent and speak 24 different languages including Spanish. Broadcasting in indigenous languages, community-based radio stations are very localized. Providing news, education, and public services to communities that otherwise would not have access to media in their native language, community radio is by far the most effective method of circulating information among culturally, linguistically, and geographically isolated communities. It has been argued that these stations are instrumental in the reconstruction of Guatemalan democracy in a country where indigenous communities have suffered social, economic and political disparities after 36 years of armed conflict.
The ability to receive and convey information and ideas through media outlets was recognized as a fundamental right in the 1996 Guatemalan Peace Accords. With more than 240 stations, community radio broadcasters are not protected by the current Law of Telecommunications. Known as “pirate” stations, community radio is viewed as a threat to the national commercial stations. Currently, no one community station is officially recognized by the Guatemalan government.
The threat to commercial interests is questionable since the non-conglomerated community radio frequencies cover only a few square miles. The government currently charges around $28,000 for bandwidth access. This means that every station that wants to broadcast must apply and pay for a one-time license to transmit its content over the airwaves. As most community radio stations cannot afford such an expensive access fee, they broadcast illegally. It is then common for religious or commercial groups to purchase the rights to the community’s radio frequency. Even though the Guatemalan constitution theoretically ensures public access to media sources, the reality is that community radio stations are continually at risk of being raided by the police, their equipment confiscated, and radio volunteers arrested.
The failure of the government to recognize indigenous peoples’ right to access to media sources as defined in the UN’s Declaration of Indigenous Rights has brought about reactionary legislation proposals, outcry from community activists, and the grassroots based Community Radio Movement. The Declaration states that “Indigenous peoples have the right to establish their own media in their own languages and to have access to all forms of non-indigenous media without discrimination.” Deeming the current media policies as unjust, community and indigenous activists throughout Guatemala are fighting for greater and just media access.
Field Work Experience
It was within this context of existing conditions that I began my fieldwork. Dividing my time between three community radio stations and Cultural Survival’s office in Xela, I wanted to accomplish as much as I could in six weeks. After meeting with Cultural Survival’s project coordinators, it was mutually agreed upon that I would first accompany them when they visited radio stations in the region before I began knocking on community doors. I had the opportunity to meet volunteer radio organizers and workers from Radio Ixchel in Sum Pango, Doble Vía in San Mateo, and Radio Sembrador in San Pedro La Laguna, as well as attend a workshop for community radio volunteers on HIV/AIDS prevention in San Mateo.
Preliminary analysis of my data shows that community radio in the three communities I visited takes on various roles depending on the needs of the community it serves. The impact radio has is difficult to measure in terms of direct results. There is no formula for community radio as a tool for community development. Much has to do with how organized the existing community already is. Radio involves dedicated volunteers, community resources, as well as personal risk of being caught by the authorities. The radio does not create social capital; rather it serves as a conduit for community knowledge, a platform for indigenous rights, a pillar for community solidarity, and an arena for empowerment of all community members, especially youth.
Cultural Survival plays an important role in sustaining and aiding the existence of community radio. As a facilitator, supporter, lobbyer as well as solidarity builder, the organization leaves the radio stations to manage the local scale, while it lobbies the Guatemalan Congress for telecommunications reform and build networks of solidarity on an international scale to garner support for the Community Radio Movement. Consequently, there remains routine interaction between the NGO and individual stations. Part of Cultural Survival’s work is to fill in the gaps, so to speak. It has helped to create an effective network between radio stations through hosting workshops, producing prerecorded radio spots, as well as organizing stations’ exchanges. Now in year eight of its community radio project, Cultural Survival is beginning to expand the community radio network outside of Guatemala to stations in neighboring Belize and El Salvador.
In mid-September, I returned to Xela while I write my thesis, carry out additional research, and be in close proximity for follow-up inquiry. Specifically, I will be looking at how the radio serves as a channel for indigenous activism. If you have any questions, please send me an email at ehalpin@unm.edu. My research was made possible through generous support from the LAII, the Tinker Foundation, and UNM’s Office of Graduate Studies.
]]>It was within this context of existing conditions that I began my fieldwork. Dividing my time between three community radio stations and Cultural Survival’s office in Xela, I wanted to accomplish as much as I could in six weeks. After meeting with Cultural Survival’s project coordinators, it was mutually agreed upon that I would first accompany them when they visited radio stations in the region before I began knocking on community doors. I had the opportunity to meet volunteer radio organizers and workers from Radio Ixchel in Sum Pango, Doble Vía in San Mateo, and Radio Sembrador in San Pedro La Laguna, as well as attend a workshop for community radio volunteers on HIV/AIDS prevention in San Mateo.
Preliminary analysis of my data shows that community radio in the three communities I visited takes on various roles depending on the needs of the community it serves. The impact radio has is difficult to measure in terms of direct results. There is no formula for community radio as a tool for community development. Much has to do with how organized the existing community already is. Radio involves dedicated volunteers, community resources, as well as personal risk of being caught by the authorities. The radio does not create social capital; rather it serves as a conduit for community knowledge, a platform for indigenous rights, a pillar for community solidarity, and an arena for empowerment of all community members, especially youth.
Cultural Survival plays an important role in sustaining and aiding the existence of community radio. As a facilitator, supporter, lobbyer as well as solidarity builder, the organization leaves the radio stations to manage the local scale, while it lobbies the Guatemalan Congress for telecommunications reform and build networks of solidarity on an international scale to garner support for the Community Radio Movement. Consequently, there remains routine interaction between the NGO and individual stations. Part of Cultural Survival’s work is to fill in the gaps, so to speak. It has helped to create an effective network between radio stations through hosting workshops, producing prerecorded radio spots, as well as organizing stations’ exchanges. Now in year eight of its community radio project, Cultural Survival is beginning to expand the community radio network outside of Guatemala to stations in neighboring Belize and El Salvador.
In mid-September, I returned to Xela while I write my thesis, carry out additional research, and be in close proximity for follow-up inquiry. Specifically, I will be looking at how the radio serves as a channel for indigenous activism. If you have any questions, please send me an email at ehalpin@unm.edu. My research was made possible through generous support from the LAII, the Tinker Foundation, and UNM’s Office of Graduate Studies.
This research was made possible in part by funding from the Latin American & Iberian Institute and Tinker Foundation Field Research Grant (FRG). For more information about the FRG please visit the LAII website.
Courtesy of Amanda Hooker : Santurban Spring During the summer of 2013, with funding awarded by the Latin American and Iberian Institute, I traveled to Bogotá and Bucaramanga for preliminary thesis research on large-scale mining in Colombia. I investigated the role that transnational, specifically Canadian, mining operations play in shaping ecologies and the social fabric of communities through one case study. The Angostura Mine site, property of Canadian Eco Oro (formerly Greystar), in the high mountain wetlands of Santander, Colombia is a current and emblematic example of the complexities that arise between territorial governance, environmental management, and land and labor rights in areas ceded to transnational capital. The research exposed further questions for investigation in land planning and political ecology, namely, the paradoxes that allow large-scale mining to be considered “sustainable development.” The case brings to light the discord between human rights/environmental protections and transnational businesses operations in areas of social conflict. The most hopeful thread in the complex story is the formation and growth of a civil society coalition, The Committee for the Defense of Water and Santurbán Páramo, comprised of individuals and organizations across a broad political spectrum that has, so far, succeeded in pressuring the government to protect their water source: a fragile and vital páramo ecosystem.
Mining in Colombia
Large-scale mining has become an increasingly contentious topic of public and political debate in Colombia since the end of the Alvaro Uribe administration in 2010. At that time, thousands of mining titles were expeditiously granted to multinational companies on the eve of a reformed mining code that made environmental protections more explicit and restrictive. The debate has extended into the current presidency of Juan Manuel Santos, which promotes large-scale mining as a “driving force’ (locomotora minero-energetico) for national economic development as written into the National Development Plan.
According to the National Mining Company Union, Sintraminercol, 87% of all displaced persons in Colombia are expelled from mining and energy producing regions—no small fact given that Colombia has one of the highest rates of internally displaced people in the world. Its rural population has largely born the brunt of more than 60 years of armed conflict between army, paramilitary and guerrilla actors. This context, taken with the International Monetary Fund imposed market reforms and privatization of many industries, has given rise to a notable pattern: multinationals tend to appear in places that have previously suffered paramlitary attacks (Fierro 2012).
It is interesting to note that the office of the current Comptroller General (Contraloría General) has taken a critical view of President Santos’ stance on mining. This office cites the economically exploitative conditions under which multinationals operate: they pay only $16 in royalties for every $100 of earnings (Garay 2013). The Comptroller’s office also estimates that for every $100 that Colombia gains in royalties, it ends up paying $118 to offset the mining industry’s externalities in environmental and social harms. While some activists bolster the Comptroller’s challenge to the Santos administration, other organizations note that such discourse does not go far enough in halting injurious environmental effects. It presents a view of mining as a viable economic development activity: one that, at very least, should be more heavily taxed and regulated, and at most, nationalized.
An array of social organizations, scholars, journalists, and political and civil society groups at the national level have vocally opposed large-scale mining in any form and are calling for a moratorium (most urgently in areas of conflict, land-restitution, and delicate wetland ecosystems) until its economic, environmental, and social effects can be effectively evaluated.
Large-scale mining has become an increasingly contentious topic of public and political debate in Colombia since the end of the Alvaro Uribe administration in 2010. At that time, thousands of mining titles were expeditiously granted to multinational companies on the eve of a reformed mining code that made environmental protections more explicit and restrictive. The debate has extended into the current presidency of Juan Manuel Santos, which promotes large-scale mining as a “driving force’ (locomotora minero-energetico) for national economic development as written into the National Development Plan.
According to the National Mining Company Union, Sintraminercol, 87% of all displaced persons in Colombia are expelled from mining and energy producing regions—no small fact given that Colombia has one of the highest rates of internally displaced people in the world. Its rural population has largely born the brunt of more than 60 years of armed conflict between army, paramilitary and guerrilla actors. This context, taken with the International Monetary Fund imposed market reforms and privatization of many industries, has given rise to a notable pattern: multinationals tend to appear in places that have previously suffered paramlitary attacks (Fierro 2012).
It is interesting to note that the office of the current Comptroller General (Contraloría General) has taken a critical view of President Santos’ stance on mining. This office cites the economically exploitative conditions under which multinationals operate: they pay only $16 in royalties for every $100 of earnings (Garay 2013). The Comptroller’s office also estimates that for every $100 that Colombia gains in royalties, it ends up paying $118 to offset the mining industry’s externalities in environmental and social harms. While some activists bolster the Comptroller’s challenge to the Santos administration, other organizations note that such discourse does not go far enough in halting injurious environmental effects. It presents a view of mining as a viable economic development activity: one that, at very least, should be more heavily taxed and regulated, and at most, nationalized.
An array of social organizations, scholars, journalists, and political and civil society groups at the national level have vocally opposed large-scale mining in any form and are calling for a moratorium (most urgently in areas of conflict, land-restitution, and delicate wetland ecosystems) until its economic, environmental, and social effects can be effectively evaluated.
Courtesy of Amanda Hooker : Angostura Mine Canada and Colombia Mining Legislation
Since 1997, The Canadian government has intervened in formulating Colombian mining norms and policies through the Canadian Energy Research institute (CERI). CERI participated heavily in writing the Colombian mining code of 2001, (the code currently in effect). Around 40% of the mining companies in the Colombian national mining registry are now Canadian. (Fiero 2012)
The mining code of 2001 declared mining an “activity for public utility and social interest,” which made the mineral rights completely independent of land rights. This gives the national government autonomy to grant mining titles anywhere in national territory, regardless of who owns the land. Further, a new law enacted in 2013, which seeks to harmonize mining governance and land governance, explicitly forbids departmental, municipal or other regional authorities from seeking to prevent mining in their jurisdiction. Additionally, the mining code of 2001 gave corporations the ability to write their own environmental impact statement, with no external oversight, for the exploratory phase of operations (Humbolt Institute).
Eco Oro and Santurbán Páramo
The Angostura mining concession solicited by Greystar Ltd (now Eco Oro), a Canadian mining company lies deep in the eastern Colombian Andes. Greystar sought permission from the Colombian Government to mine for gold and silver in the mountain system known as Santurbán, specifically near the stream of Angostura, from which the mining project takes its name. The unique biology of the páramo ecosystem supplies water not only to the surrounding rural mountain inhabitants, but to 2.2 million inhabitants of Bucaramanga and Cucuta and nearly 20 nearby municipalities.
Páramos are important bio-systems that generate potable water. They are found at an altitude of 3,000 to 5,000 meters and in the case of Santurbán, cover nearly 83,000 hecatares. The integrity of the páramo system has major implications for the public health of the inhabitants of the entire Santander province. According to the Humboldt Institute, 75% of all Colombian inhabitants receive their water from páramo systems along the western, central and eastern cordilleras of the Andes. At least 7 percent of the total national páramo land is now in hands of mining companies and more is being sought.
Given the government’s hesitation to grant the mining license because of public protests, Greystar withdrew its original project plan of an open-pit gold mine, while being concurrently denied its license by the Ministry of the Environment. Greystar was forced to admit the environmental damage the project would have caused to the delicate páramo ecosystem. Yet, in the period of a few months, Greystar changed its name (to Eco Oro), its board of directors, and its public image as a socially and environmentally responsible corporation. It returned to the Ministry of the Environment proposing to undertake an underground mining tunnel instead of open-pit excavation. Eco Oro claimed that it would thereby circumvent many of the negative impacts associated with initial plan of an open pit mine. However, as an ecologist from Humbolt Institute explained to me, digging a tunnel into the side of a páramo mountain will have similar levels of effects to that of open-pit mining over the long term. In the páramos the flora, soil and even rocks serves as a sponges. Digging underground can prove fatal for the ecosystem since drainage will leach water and nutrients from the layer of vegetation above the tunnel. This important exterior vegetative layer will gradually die, or at least be much less affective in capturing and storing water.
Eco Oro continues to insist that its proposed area of operations are outside of the area that can be considered páramo, and so should not be denied their environmental license given their new proposed underground extraction. I arrived in the months preceding the official governmental delimitation of the area that will be considered protected in the area. At the beginning of the year, the boundaries of a national park of 11,700 hectares were drawn near the mining site. The departmental environmental authority demarcated boundaries that left 90% of Eco Oro’s property (96% of the equivalent of its gold vein) outside the surface boundaries of the park including a glaringly asymmetrical bulge, which left the mine site itself outside of the regulated zone. Many people I interviewed argued that the protections intentionally circumvented the mine site, given that its altitude is above 3,000 meters.
Since 1997, The Canadian government has intervened in formulating Colombian mining norms and policies through the Canadian Energy Research institute (CERI). CERI participated heavily in writing the Colombian mining code of 2001, (the code currently in effect). Around 40% of the mining companies in the Colombian national mining registry are now Canadian. (Fiero 2012)
The mining code of 2001 declared mining an “activity for public utility and social interest,” which made the mineral rights completely independent of land rights. This gives the national government autonomy to grant mining titles anywhere in national territory, regardless of who owns the land. Further, a new law enacted in 2013, which seeks to harmonize mining governance and land governance, explicitly forbids departmental, municipal or other regional authorities from seeking to prevent mining in their jurisdiction. Additionally, the mining code of 2001 gave corporations the ability to write their own environmental impact statement, with no external oversight, for the exploratory phase of operations (Humbolt Institute).
Eco Oro and Santurbán Páramo
The Angostura mining concession solicited by Greystar Ltd (now Eco Oro), a Canadian mining company lies deep in the eastern Colombian Andes. Greystar sought permission from the Colombian Government to mine for gold and silver in the mountain system known as Santurbán, specifically near the stream of Angostura, from which the mining project takes its name. The unique biology of the páramo ecosystem supplies water not only to the surrounding rural mountain inhabitants, but to 2.2 million inhabitants of Bucaramanga and Cucuta and nearly 20 nearby municipalities.
Páramos are important bio-systems that generate potable water. They are found at an altitude of 3,000 to 5,000 meters and in the case of Santurbán, cover nearly 83,000 hecatares. The integrity of the páramo system has major implications for the public health of the inhabitants of the entire Santander province. According to the Humboldt Institute, 75% of all Colombian inhabitants receive their water from páramo systems along the western, central and eastern cordilleras of the Andes. At least 7 percent of the total national páramo land is now in hands of mining companies and more is being sought.
Given the government’s hesitation to grant the mining license because of public protests, Greystar withdrew its original project plan of an open-pit gold mine, while being concurrently denied its license by the Ministry of the Environment. Greystar was forced to admit the environmental damage the project would have caused to the delicate páramo ecosystem. Yet, in the period of a few months, Greystar changed its name (to Eco Oro), its board of directors, and its public image as a socially and environmentally responsible corporation. It returned to the Ministry of the Environment proposing to undertake an underground mining tunnel instead of open-pit excavation. Eco Oro claimed that it would thereby circumvent many of the negative impacts associated with initial plan of an open pit mine. However, as an ecologist from Humbolt Institute explained to me, digging a tunnel into the side of a páramo mountain will have similar levels of effects to that of open-pit mining over the long term. In the páramos the flora, soil and even rocks serves as a sponges. Digging underground can prove fatal for the ecosystem since drainage will leach water and nutrients from the layer of vegetation above the tunnel. This important exterior vegetative layer will gradually die, or at least be much less affective in capturing and storing water.
Eco Oro continues to insist that its proposed area of operations are outside of the area that can be considered páramo, and so should not be denied their environmental license given their new proposed underground extraction. I arrived in the months preceding the official governmental delimitation of the area that will be considered protected in the area. At the beginning of the year, the boundaries of a national park of 11,700 hectares were drawn near the mining site. The departmental environmental authority demarcated boundaries that left 90% of Eco Oro’s property (96% of the equivalent of its gold vein) outside the surface boundaries of the park including a glaringly asymmetrical bulge, which left the mine site itself outside of the regulated zone. Many people I interviewed argued that the protections intentionally circumvented the mine site, given that its altitude is above 3,000 meters.
Courtesy of Amanda Hooker : Frailejones Santurbán Páramo Delimitation Debate
Exactly where the protective boundary line should be drawn is being ardently debated by two groups of people—the urban-based Committee for the Defense of Water and Santurbán Páramo (Committee) in Bucaramanga, against a local group that presents (and claims to present) the interests of inhabitants of Santurbán Páramo. This second group comprised of mayors, town councils, small miners and the farmers that live in the Santurbán Páramo near the mine site are demanding their rights to decent jobs. Eco Oro and other foreign mining companies in the area, however, make large financial contributions to this group as a way of combatting pressure from the Committee in Bucaramanga, and to counter environmental protections of the Colombian Constitution that have and could further inhibit their extractive activities. The delimitation of the páramo will not only effect the mining multinationals and their employees, but also the small scale-miners and traditional farmers in the area. Around 9000 inhabitants of the Santurbán Páramo could be affected by the delimitation that is set for August of 2013. This group claims that their traditions and history, lifestyles and economies are not being sufficiently considered in land use management. They are pressuring the government not to extend environmental protections outside the boundary of the 11,700-hectare national park. If the protective demarcation is drawn such that it encompasses the homes and productive sites of these rural inhabitants, many could be forced to relocate. Forcibly relocating the inhabitants would not fall short of a tragedy given that many people made these cold, rather inhospitable regions home primarily out of necessity, having been displaced there due to armed conflict.
Downstream and on the opposite side of the debate, the Committee pulls together large groups from a vast spectrum of civil society actors from the major metropolitan area of Bucaramanga. Using the environmental protections of Law 1382 of 2010 that amended the Mining Code to formalize the implicit environmental protections of the Constitution of 1991, the Committee began formally organizing against the mine. They coordinated collective protest actions and most importantly, had major impact on the media in generating public outrage against the project. The organizing culminated in mobilizing several increasingly large marches, the last of which neared 100,000 people. The protesters demanded their rights to safe (and sufficient), cyanide-free water be protected by the state. Many of those urban residents involved in the protests had not previously been politically active. Their identities had been transformed by contesting the environmental management regime that would allow the contamination of not only the materiality of their water sources, but their collective relationship to water as a public good and its symbolic significance to the vitality of life itself. Santander residents viewed the threat the Canadian company posed to their water supply as an affront, not only to public health and natural patrimony, but also to the very terms of their citizenship. Their outrage was directed toward regional and local authorities ready to favor transnational capital over the citizens they claimed to represent.
I interviewed many members of the Committee, including several environmentalists with specialties in páramo ecosystems; the president of a local Chamber of Commerce who was instrumental in leveraging support from the business community in Bucaramanga against mining operations in Santurbán Páramo; and the former director of the Bucaramanga Water Department who played a vital role in alerting the community to the dangers of mining in the páramos for urban residents as well as putting aside difficulties with the Water Worker’s Union to work against the mine.
The Committee’s success in halting mining operations until now may lie in its striking and rare composition: it draws together not only academics, environmentalists, student groups and social activists that have previously campaigned for the “human right to water,” but also members of the elite class. Even during my interviews, some of the polemic political bias and stigmatizations against fellow members of the Committee were evident. However, the group has, and continues to work hard to put aside differences based on class and political ideologies in order to achieve their goals.
Human Rights, Sustainable Development and Water Sovereignty
In the context of land use planning, the Committee for the Defense of the Water and Santurbán offers a concrete and compelling example that validates the importance of massive community mobilization in pressuring government to halt mining and its corrosive effects. In coming years and decades, as climate change exacerbates not only the shrinking of vital páramo lands but also the already harmful and historic situations of internal displacement and civilian casualties, local peoples’ relationship with their environments become more precarious. As communities’ traditions and public health are increasingly threatened, they turn to human rights to frame their grievances. Colombia may not suffer the massacres and mass killings of previous decades, but the institutions and discourse of human rights that responded to that era may not be sufficient in addressing ongoing economic inequalities and harms to the environment. Nor are the wounds of previous decades able to heal in the context of continued selective killings, forced displacement and social intimidation by both state, para-state and insurgent actors, largely linked to transnational natural resource extraction projects.
As with the case of other regions in the Global South, a narrow focus on human rights and atrocity-based analysis, in many ways enables the larger picture of economic violence to be overlooked. All sides in a conflict can be reproached as human rights violators, just as all sides are able to adopt pro-human rights rhetoric. In this context, land-grabs by mining corporations and devastating effects on lives, livelihoods and environments remain out of official discourses (Roy 2012). By focusing on the obligations of states, the contemporary human rights establishment is largely ineffective at mitigating human rights violations by corporations. Furthermore, human rights stress economic liberty, which in practice results in individual appropriation of and control over economic resources at the expense of equality of access and wellbeing. (Charvet and Kaczynska-Nay 2008) Land, water and other natural resources are not seen as collective holdings, but rather as commodities.
An human rights discourse and praxis, then, must be willing to broaden its scope of analysis to account for environmental abuses, state-facilitated corporate land appropriation and land-use consultation processes and planning regimes that render local people objects of management rather than subjects with rights (Escobar 1995). Similarly “sustainable development” discourse and practice would promote true water and food security and sovereignty, while challenging the idea of progress that equates development (rhetorically “sustainable” or not) with unlimited economic growth. The Committee for the Defense of the Water and Santurbán challenges the neoliberal development model as it contests the notion that Corporate Social Responsibility is a sufficient response for mitigating affronts to collective rights and the environment.
References
Charvet, John, and Elisa Kaczynska-Nay (2008) The liberal project and human rights: the theory and practice of a new world order. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Escobar, Arturo (1995). Encountering development: the making and unmaking of the Third World. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Fierro, Julio (2012) Políticas mineras en Colombia. Bogotá: Instituto Latinoamericano para una sociedad y un derecho alternativos.
Garay Salamanca, Luis Jorge (2013) Minería en Colombia: Fundamentos para superar el modelo extractivista. Contraloría General de la Republica de Colombia
Roy, Arudhati (2012) Capitalism: A Ghost-Story. Outlook India On-line.
]]>Exactly where the protective boundary line should be drawn is being ardently debated by two groups of people—the urban-based Committee for the Defense of Water and Santurbán Páramo (Committee) in Bucaramanga, against a local group that presents (and claims to present) the interests of inhabitants of Santurbán Páramo. This second group comprised of mayors, town councils, small miners and the farmers that live in the Santurbán Páramo near the mine site are demanding their rights to decent jobs. Eco Oro and other foreign mining companies in the area, however, make large financial contributions to this group as a way of combatting pressure from the Committee in Bucaramanga, and to counter environmental protections of the Colombian Constitution that have and could further inhibit their extractive activities. The delimitation of the páramo will not only effect the mining multinationals and their employees, but also the small scale-miners and traditional farmers in the area. Around 9000 inhabitants of the Santurbán Páramo could be affected by the delimitation that is set for August of 2013. This group claims that their traditions and history, lifestyles and economies are not being sufficiently considered in land use management. They are pressuring the government not to extend environmental protections outside the boundary of the 11,700-hectare national park. If the protective demarcation is drawn such that it encompasses the homes and productive sites of these rural inhabitants, many could be forced to relocate. Forcibly relocating the inhabitants would not fall short of a tragedy given that many people made these cold, rather inhospitable regions home primarily out of necessity, having been displaced there due to armed conflict.
Downstream and on the opposite side of the debate, the Committee pulls together large groups from a vast spectrum of civil society actors from the major metropolitan area of Bucaramanga. Using the environmental protections of Law 1382 of 2010 that amended the Mining Code to formalize the implicit environmental protections of the Constitution of 1991, the Committee began formally organizing against the mine. They coordinated collective protest actions and most importantly, had major impact on the media in generating public outrage against the project. The organizing culminated in mobilizing several increasingly large marches, the last of which neared 100,000 people. The protesters demanded their rights to safe (and sufficient), cyanide-free water be protected by the state. Many of those urban residents involved in the protests had not previously been politically active. Their identities had been transformed by contesting the environmental management regime that would allow the contamination of not only the materiality of their water sources, but their collective relationship to water as a public good and its symbolic significance to the vitality of life itself. Santander residents viewed the threat the Canadian company posed to their water supply as an affront, not only to public health and natural patrimony, but also to the very terms of their citizenship. Their outrage was directed toward regional and local authorities ready to favor transnational capital over the citizens they claimed to represent.
I interviewed many members of the Committee, including several environmentalists with specialties in páramo ecosystems; the president of a local Chamber of Commerce who was instrumental in leveraging support from the business community in Bucaramanga against mining operations in Santurbán Páramo; and the former director of the Bucaramanga Water Department who played a vital role in alerting the community to the dangers of mining in the páramos for urban residents as well as putting aside difficulties with the Water Worker’s Union to work against the mine.
The Committee’s success in halting mining operations until now may lie in its striking and rare composition: it draws together not only academics, environmentalists, student groups and social activists that have previously campaigned for the “human right to water,” but also members of the elite class. Even during my interviews, some of the polemic political bias and stigmatizations against fellow members of the Committee were evident. However, the group has, and continues to work hard to put aside differences based on class and political ideologies in order to achieve their goals.
Human Rights, Sustainable Development and Water Sovereignty
In the context of land use planning, the Committee for the Defense of the Water and Santurbán offers a concrete and compelling example that validates the importance of massive community mobilization in pressuring government to halt mining and its corrosive effects. In coming years and decades, as climate change exacerbates not only the shrinking of vital páramo lands but also the already harmful and historic situations of internal displacement and civilian casualties, local peoples’ relationship with their environments become more precarious. As communities’ traditions and public health are increasingly threatened, they turn to human rights to frame their grievances. Colombia may not suffer the massacres and mass killings of previous decades, but the institutions and discourse of human rights that responded to that era may not be sufficient in addressing ongoing economic inequalities and harms to the environment. Nor are the wounds of previous decades able to heal in the context of continued selective killings, forced displacement and social intimidation by both state, para-state and insurgent actors, largely linked to transnational natural resource extraction projects.
As with the case of other regions in the Global South, a narrow focus on human rights and atrocity-based analysis, in many ways enables the larger picture of economic violence to be overlooked. All sides in a conflict can be reproached as human rights violators, just as all sides are able to adopt pro-human rights rhetoric. In this context, land-grabs by mining corporations and devastating effects on lives, livelihoods and environments remain out of official discourses (Roy 2012). By focusing on the obligations of states, the contemporary human rights establishment is largely ineffective at mitigating human rights violations by corporations. Furthermore, human rights stress economic liberty, which in practice results in individual appropriation of and control over economic resources at the expense of equality of access and wellbeing. (Charvet and Kaczynska-Nay 2008) Land, water and other natural resources are not seen as collective holdings, but rather as commodities.
An human rights discourse and praxis, then, must be willing to broaden its scope of analysis to account for environmental abuses, state-facilitated corporate land appropriation and land-use consultation processes and planning regimes that render local people objects of management rather than subjects with rights (Escobar 1995). Similarly “sustainable development” discourse and practice would promote true water and food security and sovereignty, while challenging the idea of progress that equates development (rhetorically “sustainable” or not) with unlimited economic growth. The Committee for the Defense of the Water and Santurbán challenges the neoliberal development model as it contests the notion that Corporate Social Responsibility is a sufficient response for mitigating affronts to collective rights and the environment.
References
Charvet, John, and Elisa Kaczynska-Nay (2008) The liberal project and human rights: the theory and practice of a new world order. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Escobar, Arturo (1995). Encountering development: the making and unmaking of the Third World. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Fierro, Julio (2012) Políticas mineras en Colombia. Bogotá: Instituto Latinoamericano para una sociedad y un derecho alternativos.
Garay Salamanca, Luis Jorge (2013) Minería en Colombia: Fundamentos para superar el modelo extractivista. Contraloría General de la Republica de Colombia
Roy, Arudhati (2012) Capitalism: A Ghost-Story. Outlook India On-line.