by Dr. Esteban Suárez, Professor, Universidad San Francisco de Quito, Ecuador
The contrast was so brutal that I wanted to leave the room and start running. Maybe I could feign a sudden stomach complaint, or a crippling migraine. Or, no explanations given, I could just run and escape into the magical forest of Monteverde. Anything to avoid the stupid but very real sense of being out of place that the talk was giving me.
Obe (Esteban) owned the room. Speaking casually but convincingly, he walked us through several examples of his work with people in Costa Rica, improving their wellbeing by engaging them in wildlife conservation. I saw the faces of young graduate students, enthralled by his stories and inspired by the good news: Yes, wildlife conservation was possible, and not only that-- it sounded almost easy and obvious!
As his talk moved forward, I could no longer ignore the question burning in my gut: How on Earth was I going to give my depressing talk about the tragedy of the Waorani people in the midst of the ecological destruction and social chaos inflicted by the oil companies in the Ecuadorian Amazon? How was I going to tell these young students that I see no easy way to effectively protect biodiversity in my country without opting for draconian measures that would inevitably bring more conflict?
In the end, I didn’t run. With resignation and a distinct aftertaste of innocent envy, I repeated my talk for the nth time, painfully guiding the students through the story of the Waorani of the Maxus road. I told them how the Waorani’s once sustainable lifestyle was destroyed by oblivious oil companies, an absent government, and powerless conservation organizations. I told them about the subsidies that the oil companies use to buy their way into indigenous communities, turning their knowledge of the forest into an effective tool to exploit and destroy it. And I told them that I saw no easy solution for situations like these, in which preciously biodiverse places overlap with the needs and rights of local people, and with the monstrous power and influence of oil companies. I finished my talk feeling empty. I put on a forced smile for the people who came to ask questions or congratulate me, but deep inside I felt like a cheater and a looser.
Now, flying 10,000 m above the sea, I feel better. Talking some more with Obe, I could gain some perspective on the brutal contrast between the stories about conservation in places like Ecuador as opposed to ones like Costa Rica. Although I have not changed my perspective about conservation in my country, learning about Obe’s work in Costa Rica helped me come to, or at any rate strengthened, three conclusions in my mind. First, as I have believed for some time now, conservation cannot (should not) be approached as a series of short term initiatives implemented by outsiders who do not understand the reality of local people. The successful stories that I heard all seem to be based on a process of building confidence, respect and long-term commitment with the families and groups which were entrusted with conservation.
My second conclusion came straight from Obe’s kind attempts to make me feel better. But somehow it makes a lot of sense. As he suggested, maybe we could see the current states of conservation in Costa Rica and Ecuador as two distinct points along a single timeline, or as natural stages in the development of conservation movements. In other words, maybe Ecuador will arrive soon at the point where Costa Rica was 50 years ago, when the massive destruction of forests forced the implementation of preservationist and socially unpopular measures that, overtime, provided a safeguard for biodiversity, but also laid the base for the exploration of real community-based conservation strategies.
And third, by looking at these contrasting examples, we could probably look for ways to improve or shorten the trip towards more desirable perspectives on conservation. For example, we could start asking questions like: what were the socioeconomic or political conditions that moved Costa Rica in the direction that it took? Are there things that could be done in other countries to speed up similar processes?
One thing is certain. People in Costa Rica are not intrinsically different from people in Ecuador or any other country. There is no reason to think that the current approach to conservation in Costa Rica could not be applied, with some modifications, in other tropical countries like Ecuador.
A part of my spirit is still sore and bruised. Costa Rica’s current situation is not perfect, and yet how I wish my own country could have such a promising perspective for the future of its natural places and its people. But a larger part of my spirit is glowing. Yes, despite the problems, real conservation is still possible, as my Costa Rican friends have just showed me.
We will land in 15 minutes. The travel map in the entertainment screen shows the icon of this plane now flying above the devastated jungles of the Ecuadorian Chocó. My mind flies and I imagine that someday, in a near future, that forest will regrow and once again welcome the wildlife that no longer roams those lands. There is no harm in dreaming. I smile again.
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