Changes in Traditionally Protected Forests and

CONTEXTUALISING NATURAL RESOURCE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTH

Edited by Heini Vihemäki

INTERKONT BOOKS 16 HELSINKI 2007

Copyright

The editor, authors & publisher, 2007

Photograph of the cover: “Burnt Valley. Ranomafana, Madagascar” by Joni Valkila Published by

Institute of Development Studies University of Helsinki

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Helsinki University Print, Helsinki

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ISNN 0359-307X (Interkont Books 16) ISBN 978-952-10-4437-3 (paperback) ISBN 978-952-10-4578-3 (PDF) Also available as Interkont e-Books http://www.valt.helsinki.fi/kmi/english/publications.htm

Table of Contents Preface

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Changes of land policy and land laws and their effects on management of natural resources in the Loliondo Division of Northern Tanzania 1 Sanna Ojalammi Changes in Traditionally Protected Forests and Leadership in the Village of Mkata in northeastern Tanzania Jussi Ylhäisi Empowerment or imposed participation? Different expectations from and practices of Joint Forest Management in the Usambara Mountains, Tanzania Karin Reuterswärd & Heini Vihemäki The Possibilities and Constraints of Improving Livelihoods through Apicultural Development in Ranomafana National Park in Madagascar Joni Valkila

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62

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A Life Asset Analysis – Conservation and the Life Security of Local People in Ranomafana National Park, Madagascar 153 Kaisa Korhonen Participatory Forestry at the Crossroads in Laos and Vietnam: Two Participatory Forest Management Case Studies 193 Irmeli Mustalahti List of appendice

237

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Preface Environmental issues have become a central theme in the development debate since the general environmental “awakening” in the 1960s and 1970s. Gradually, problems and processes related to the environment and natural resources have gained more and more interest among scholars of development studies as well as of those among many other scientific fields. Using diverse theoretical and methodological angles, researchers in the field of development studies have explored such things as social, political and economic causes, outcomes and dynamics of environmental degradation and natural resource management. Despite the growing interest in environmental issues, there is still room for new research on these topics. Many uncertainties exist about the actual pace and dynamics of environmental change. Furthermore, the biophysical processes are connected to social, cultural, and economic transformations in complex ways. Moreover, changes in the conditions of forests, lands, seas, and the atmosphere continue to affect the lives of people and the operation of societies and ecosystems both in the “South” and the “North” in diverse and often differentiated ways. Previous research on the social and political dimensions of environmental change suggests that different social groups are often in an unequal position in relation to access to natural resources, related assets and the effects of environmental problems. Access to trees, water and land directly affects the lives and livelihood opportunities of many people and social groups, especially in the South. Institutional reforms, such as the introduction of community-based natural resource management regimes or new land policies,

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shape the relationships between actors and groups, but often in unexpected and context-specific ways. This book contributes to the research and debates on the nexus of environment and development in the field of development studies by focusing on the social dynamics and outcomes of state and/or donor-led initiatives and on “local” efforts to manage the natural resources at stake. Although the authors draw on diverse methodological and conceptual backgrounds, they all attempt to approach the topic in a contextsensitive way. They explore dynamics and outcomes of diverse environmental projects and policy reforms from cultural, historical, political, and economic perspectives in specific localities in Sub-Saharan Africa and Asia. They discuss, for example, the relationships between institutional changes and different social groups’ access to natural resources, the livelihood effects of conservation and development interventions as well as cultural changes in people’s relationships to their biophysical environment. The book consists of articles written by researchers working at the Institute of Development Studies (IDS), Department of Social Policy and Department of Biological and Environmental Sciences at the University of Helsinki (UH), as well as by scholars in our collaborative research institutions in Scandinavia, including Danish Centre for Forest, Landscape and Planning at the University of Copenhagen, and Department of Human Geography at the Stockholm University. Below, the articles are introduced in order to give the reader an overall view of the book’s contents. The first article, written by Sanna Ojalammi at the IDS, addresses the legal dimension of natural resource management in the Ngorongoro District of Tanzania. Ojalammi explores the influence of state law on the local people’s natural resources use in critical

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situations. She shows how state land and conservation policy along with the transformation of property conception have resulted in loss of land and nonacknowledgement of traditional property rights for the local inhabitants. As a result, since independence, the state policies have often made local people’s natural resource management strategies in Tanzania less secure. Ojalammi argues that land ownership of village lands has become both more complicated and more competitive. In many areas of Ngorongoro, the competitive land use situation has resulted in land loss. Furthermore, in some cases, people’s land grants and resource use rights have been given to outsiders. As in many other parts of the South, there has also been a trend to expand protected areas for conservation purposes. As a result, land units in rangelands for common land users are becoming fragmented in the areas of high competition. To combat the worsening situation regarding land use and land rights, legal reforms were made in Tanzania in the 1990s. Under the new Land law, public state ownership of land has continued. However, Land Act and the Village Land Act of 1999 have also given a statutory form of ownership to the customary regimes in common lands in Tanzania. This might enhance the chance of the local people to participate in natural resources management in the future. The next article, by Jussi Ylhäisi of the IDS, explores changes that have taken place in the forests managed by the local community in the village of Mkata in Tanzania. In this region, between two and three percent of the land area is still protected by the local community’s pre-colonial structures. Ylhäisi’s study shows that the communities have established their forest protection systems for different reasons, both on the basis of beliefs and also for secular and environmental reasons. Ylhäisi’s results show thirteen

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different kinds of TPF (traditionally protected forest) types in this area. Less than half of the forests were originally related to spiritual values directly. In line with results of previous research conducted elsewhere, spiritual reasons played the main role in the protection of these environments. However, life and social institutions have changed considerably in the study village during the last few decades. In Mkata, no rain ritual has been performed for the past thirty years. Many of the most respected sacred sites do not have a ritual maker or even a person who knows how to perform the rituals. Furthermore, many young people are ignorant about their village’s TPF sites, although the young are interested in learning about their history and values. In the next article, Karin Reuterswärd, of the Department of Human Geography at Stockholm University, and Heini Vihemäki, of the IDS, discuss the introduction of Joint Forest Management (JFM) in the Usambara Mountains in Northeastern Tanzania. They ask whether JFM is accepted by different actors as a viable means of managing protected forests. The question is justified since JFM was originally developed for sustainable use conditions, not for management of protected areas. Furthermore, the authors examine how JFM affects the practices of forest management from the perspective of the “local people” and state agencies in terms of benefit-cost sharing and power relations. The paper draws on results of two separate research projects conducted in the eastern and western parts of the Usambara Mountains and explores these issues in their historical contexts. Reuterswärd and Vihemäki suggest that the JFM approach is not fully accepted by all representatives of forest administration in their study area, despite the spread of participatory management rhetoric. Furthermore, the planners and implementers of JFM

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may have pre-defined agendas for its contents. Meanwhile, local communities are heterogeneous too, and their interests and opportunities for participating in forest management vary among different social groups and among villages. Hence, the authors argue that the new concept has not managed to change significantly the distribution of costs and benefits related to forest management. Nor has it led to any indepth participation by the local people in decisionmaking over forests. This is largely due to the persistence of previous power hierarchies, both in state organisations and communities as well as between the state and “external actors”. Yet in some cases, local actors, such as village-level committees, have taken a more active role in forest management. The authors stress the need to increase the accountability of organisations involved in control of the forests and to build relationships of trust among the actors in order to improve the legitimacy of conservation strategies, a goal that requires a longer time than a project approach usually allows. The two articles on Madagascar discuss and analyse natural resource management systems and their relationship to local livelihoods and life security in the context of one globally important protected area, namely, the Ranomafana National Park. As in many other regions of the world, the need to protect Madagascar’s unique nature and, at the same time, alleviate poverty in rural areas has fuelled efforts to combine biodiversity conservation with development goals. In principle, beekeeping is a source of livelihood considered to have the potential to bring food and income to people living around protected areas in a way that causes minimal harm to the environment. Optimally, it may thus contribute to sustainable livelihoods. Joni Valkila, of the IDS and Department of

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Biological and Environmental Sciences (UH), addresses the possibilities and constraints of apicultural development in Ranomafana National Park. Using the Sustainable Livelihoods Approach as a theoretical framework, the author describes the current forms of honey production and the possibilities for improvement. In addition, Valkila discusses the likely impacts of apicultural development on rural poverty and the conservation of biodiversity. The results of Valkila’s study show that honey production is an important source of livelihood in Ranomafana National Park and has the potential to become significantly more important. More advanced methods of beekeeping require higher inputs and more knowledge on beekeeping; the results would likely be higher outputs. The major constraints and challenges for beekeeping in Ranomafana are lack of infrastructure, poor transport conditions, undeveloped markets for honey and other bee products, and the inability of beekeepers to invest in beekeeping equipment. Presently, honey is not exported abroad from Ranomafana, and only modest amounts are exported from other parts of Madagascar. Improved quality and greater quantity of honey would, however, be required before honey from Madagascar could reach international markets and specialty markets such as Fair Trade certified markets. The author also recommends that Madagascar enforces legislation that prohibits bee and honey imports, a move that would prevent importation of bee diseases and parasites into Madagascar. Additionally, it would protect Madagascar’s own honey production, which at the moment cannot compete in international honey markets. The study by Kaisa Korhonen of the IDS & Department of Social Policy (UH) explores rural actors’ access to assets that are essential for their life security.

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Furthermore, Korhonen analyses the role of biodiversity conservation in this process in Ranomafana National Park. She uses a livelihood framework to consider the development and natural resources dilemma in a developing world context. However, instead of the concept of livelihood, she introduces the concept of life security to describe the essential assets that form a meaningful and secure life for the people living around the conserved biodiversity. This concept is focused more on people’s perceptions of their lives and survival than on quantitatively defining a whole system of livelihoods. In this approach, the concept of “the asset base” is adopted, defined by the people themselves in order to clarify how the park has affected the development of the central issues they perceive as important. Life security consists of various elements to which access is shaped by a complex set of aspects and interests. A secure life is dependent on having natural and economic resources (land), the means and freedom to derive benefits from those resources, and a good social and spiritual life within the family and community. Korhonen’s article concentrates particularly on changes in social and human assets. Her study suggests that fragmentation of social and human assets leads to wider social and economic changes. Among the villagers, the park was seen as a part of the livelihood problem, not as a contributor to development or to a better future. Korhonen’s study strengthens the evidence and conclusions discussed in similar cases elsewhere: so-called social conservation programs still cannot meet the real needs of people living near the protected areas; in deed, they might even have a negative impact on people’s lives. Biodiversity conservation, initiated from the perspective of global interests, together with current government policies have accelerated the unjust social and

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livelihood changes among the villagers. The article by Irmeli Mustalahti, of the IDS and Danish Centre for Forest, Landscape and Planning, examines the implementation of Participatory Forest Management (PFM) in Laos and Vietnam. Through ethnographic interviews with different stakeholders and through analysis of documents, Mustalahti treats the problem of institutionalisation of PFM. She also analyses the contingent social and economic processes accompanying the implementation of the projects. In Laos and Vietnam, PFM seems to be at a crossroads. In Laos, a decentralised model of forest management has been developed, but is not actively being implemented and does not enjoy unified acceptance among different stakeholders. In some areas are in Vietnam, local communities and households clearly indicated as being forest managers, but they lack three crucial tools: (1) decision-making power; (2) financial independence; and (3) access to forest extension services. If managers do not possess these tools, then they find it impossible to extract any tangible benefits from the forests, or at least, highly uncertain. Mustalahti argues that the implementation of PFM activities is sustainable only if the central governments institutionalise decentralised models for natural resources management. The institutionalisation may be completed if there are enabling policies and regulations as well as a holistic extension system that includes long-term extension support for the ‘new forest managers’ in carrying out their activities. There is evidence that PFM can be self-supporting, if the revenue collection and revenue-sharing mechanisms are sustainable and if local people, as the new forest managers, can benefit from forestry activities. Without governments’ institutional commitment, the implementation of PFM pilot projects may lead to a situation where the local people are left with many

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expectations but without real long-term improvement in their livelihoods. In both Laos and Vietnam, the future will show whether the host governments, and their political decision-makers, are ready to endorse these crucial tools and enable local people to carry out forest management - and thereby benefit from such activities. The idea of publishing the present collection was suggested by Dr. Jussi Raumolin, a long-term researcher and teacher at the IDS of the University of Helsinki. Initially, Dr. Raumolin also served as the book’s editor. We are grateful for his enthusiasm in promoting the project and giving ideas and feedback to the researchers who have contributed in this collection. We are also very grateful to the referees of the manuscripts, Dr. Gill Shepherd and Dr. Jørgen Klein, for their insightful comments. In addition, Dr. Kaisa Korhonen and Dr. Lauri Siitonen have both assisted in many ways in the editing process. We also want to thank all the colleagues and supervisors who have given feed-back and otherwise supported the work of the authors. Finally, we would especially like to thank the language reviewers from the Language Services of the University of Helsinki and others in correcting the language and contents of the articles. Editor

LAND DISPUTES - 1

Changes of land policy and land laws and their effects on management of natural resources in the Loliondo Division of Northern Tanzania

Sanna Ojalammi Introduction When Tanzania attained political independence in 1961, several changes occurred both in land use and in land tenure issues in the country. Historically, there has been an evolution of land policy in Tanzania from the 1920s onwards. In addition a steady increase in population numbers has occurred since the 1960s. In the past, land and natural resources have also been degraded and overall resource scarcity has increased. These developments have led to serious conflict between different land/resource users and to environmental problems (Madulu 2005: 28). After colonisation the state intervention increased and the state allocated land and resources to settlers and foreign corporations in Tanzania. Since independence, all land in Tanzania has been regarded as public land and vested in the President as a trustee. State land-planning policies have favored intensive agricultural production as opposed to pastoral production. This has meant a loss in pastoral common lands, especially in rangeland areas. Furthermore, from rangelands, parks and reserves were established, in the 1950s, in order to protect and conserve wildlife, although these lands were inhabited by ethnic groups. Until the end of the 1990s, the acknowledgement of customary land property for the landholders was not appropriately recognised, clarified or secured by law.

LAND DISPUTES - 2

Historically, Tanzanian people have had different levels governing their natural resource use: the ethnic communities and individuals who had only usufructuary rights to resources (Ole Nangoro 1998: 28-29). In geographical areas there were a number of ethnic nations (groups of people) each of whom had a system of rules that governed, for instance, land tenure. Under traditional property laws, the individual (as a member of a family, clan or tribe) acquired user rights to the land and resources. These rights to land/resources were asserted according to internal arrangements accepted by those concerned and administered by traditional institutions within the tribe or clan. Traditional institutions thus regulated and governed land and its resources. It must be noted that property rights are not static and historically, they have often been continuously adjusted to reflect new economic and social structures, often to the disadvantage of the current owners (Lavigne Delville 1998: 13; Benjaminsen & Lund 2001: 14). Land rights in general, whether informal or formal, are not merely granted to people through political reform by the state. In practice, people acquire, entrench and conquer land rights through struggles (in land disputes) and alliances with other people, institutions and the state. Throughout history, more powerful people or groups of people have also used policy processes and legal systems to enable or to ratify their grab for important common resources (Cotula et al 2005: 2). Thus, in Africa, land rights have been characterised for decades by uncertainty and ambiguity (Juul & Lund 2002: 2; Cousins 2002: 78). Steady population growth, resource scarcity and the state’s liberal economic policies have also contributed to the transformation of tenure and property arrangements. The present article analyses the legal dimensions of local natural management situations in cases of

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competing resource use in village lands that contain conservation areas. The study endeavours to show how state law has contravened the local people’s natural resources in critical, multiple-use situations. In many African cases land reforms, land- and conservation laws and policies have themselves created violence and frustration in land matters because they have neither guaranteed, secured nor acknowledged customary property rights (OECD 2004: 12; Shivji 1994: 3). The article will show how the Tanzanian state land policies and laws have shaped and changed traditional customary property systems and property rights in the Loliondo and Sale Divisions in the Ngorongoro District, in places where power and meanings conferred on the landscape play out in the realm of conservation. I argue, as do Haraway (2004: 64) and Shaw et al (2006: 268), that the histories of colonial states have attempted to control nature in relationship to possession and reification, but this transformation through modernity has resulted in alternative indigenous geographies: indigenous resistance and politics. Generally, the state land and conservation policy along with the transformation of property has resulted in loss of land and failure to acknowledge traditional property rights for local inhabitants. Land has become the reified “object” with an emphasis on state development planning, while collective native claims to the land have often been considered illegitimate if/when they failed to adopt the geographies of the state land ownership model (Blomley 2004: 9, see also Blomley 1998; 2003). As a result, state policies have often weakened and made local people’s natural resource management strategies in Tanzania and especially, in common lands, less secure. Land ownership in village lands has become both complicated and competitive in rural Tanzania.

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Historically in Tanzania, the concept of property has been based on different property rights systems, including customary titles (permissive rights) and state domain in Tanzania. In this article land rights can be defined as the rights of the people or communities that have been embedded in social relations. Property usually includes tenure and ownership/property of land or a particular resource. It also includes property rules, which are a body of rules with duties and rights defining access and control over land and resources. The property rule is usually organised in a society by a system of authority (Cousins 1990: 15). In the 1960s after independence, Tanzanian state power strengthened land administration and land development. Generally, Tanzanian laws and policies from different decades were designed to control land and natural resources. Modern State institutions along with policies, laws and land reforms have transformed people’s traditional land and natural resource use and land property arrangements. These policies and laws that have affected control of land and natural resources can be grouped in four areas: -those dealing with national development -those specific to agriculture and the livestock sector -those dealing with conservation of wildlife and other natural resources -those dealing with decentralisation and local governance (Mattee & Shem 2006: 140). Since the 1970s land reforms and land policies in Tanzania have systemically neglected the historical or future legal aspects of land tenure rights of land users (URT 1994). The most notable land reform that affected traditional land use systems in rural lands has resulted from the 1970s Ujamaa Villagisation. State land was demarcated through legal or administrative

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procedures in force during the Villagisation programme from 1973 to 1976 (Lerise 1999: 37). Due to Villagisation, land insecurity in village lands increased because local people’s control over their traditional land and natural resources was weakened. This created many unseen land disputes throughout Tanzania (Land management... 2000: 11). From the 1980s onwards, Tanzanian economic liberalisation and its multiparty politics emphasised a market-oriented economy with a rethinking of the socialist- oriented communal land policy (Bruce 1989: 5). At the same time, in 1986, Tanzania also became involved in a Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) formed by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the National Economic Recovery Programme (ERP) was initiated. These political reforms along with the adoption of a multiparty political system meant growing uncertainty about traditional land rights and potential land conflicts. Neumann (1995: 364) argues that, in the 1990s, the impact of the control of the state along with a marketoriented economy was, especially, clearly seen in or near the conservation areas of Tanzania. It showed in increased allocation of land and licenses to use natural resources for state enterprises and external investors. The allocation of land to external investors was also encouraged in the established Tanzania Investment Act of 1997, which enables non-citizens to own land for investment purposes (Mattee & Shem 2006: 246). In the 1990s, the URT (1994: 3) report noticed an alarming land use situation all over the country. There was malpractise in land administration along with rising resource-based and tenure-related land disputes in Tanzania. Rising land-use and natural-management problems were linked to land claims of the original land holders. This has taken place in a situation where the transformation of the land property (both common and

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individual) has shifted towards an individual property concept and to land as a saleable commodity. As in many other East African countries, Tanzania’s Land and Village Act of 1999 was established in order to decentralise land matters in the country. The new laws tried to restore a fairer distribution of land between agriculturalists and pastoralists, men and women, squatters, villagers and urban residents, public and private sectors, etc. (URT 2002). As a result of the law, in the beginning of the 1990s, the only legal land tenure recognised in the country was the right of occupancy, with dual expression of granted (GRO) and deemed rights for land users (DGO).

The Loliondo and Sale Divisions in the Ngorongoro District The Loliondo and Sale Divisions lie in the marginal borderlands where a harsh environment and limited natural resources constrain people’s land use and their land management systems. The Ngorongoro District constitutes three Divisions: Ngorongoro, Loliondo and Sale. The Ngorongoro District is a leading region in Tanzania for wildlife conservation and tourism. The District has approximately 25,500 sq. km under wildlife conservation including the Serengeti National Park and the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, both of which are classified as World Heritage Sites and have been put under Protected Area Management. Nature and wildlife conservation plays an increasingly important role in the area’s land use planning. The Loliondo Division borders on a corner of the famous Serengeti National Park (SNP) and the Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA) and

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contains the Loliondo Game-Controlled Area (the LGCA), a wildlife protected area among village lands. The Loliondo and Sale Divisions cover 6,400 sq. km and lie in semi-arid lands. The distance from Loliondo and Sale to the town of Arusha is about 400 km via the Makuyuni and Mto wa Mbu villages. The area has a poorly developed infrastructure and transport system, and access is difficult. Nevertheless, the traditional production of shifting cultivation, irrigated cultivation and mobile livestock rearing has not changed markedly since colonial times. Today in the Loliondo highlands and the Sale mountain valleys, multiple land-use activities exist, such as 1.

livestock rearing

2. small- or agriculture and 3.

large-scale

rain-fed

and

irrigated

wildlife conservation along with tourism.

The importance of nature and wildlife conservation affects the land and natural resource management, especially in the Loliondo Division which is also used by local pastoral Maasai. The meaning of land and common land is a core value for the local people. Nature conservation has meant land restrictions and regulations, which govern the conservation land areas, such as under the Loliondo Game Controlled Area (LGCA). Generally in Tanzania, game control areas and some other conservation areas, such as the NCA, allow human habitation, but only certain forms of land use are allowed and are subjected to strict controls. Today LGCA has been divided into three hunting blocks (the Loliondo North Hunting Block), where sport-hunting and game-cropping areas are contiguous to Serengeti National Park (NLUPC 1994). Current land use plans propose Wildlife Management Areas (WMA) to be established in the land areas of LGCA bordering SNP.

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People in the Divisions: the Maasai and the Sonjo Today in the Ngorongoro District, there are about 98,000 pastoral Maasai and about 33,000 Sonjo who reside in both Divisions. The Maasai live both in Kenya and Tanzania and their total population numbers are about 350,000 in Tanzania and c. 400,000 in Kenya. In the Loliondo Division the total population number is approximately 38,000, most of whom are Maasai. The number of pastoral Maasai living in villages is small; most live communally in scattered traditional homesteads (pl. inkang’itie) near the administrative villages. The Maasai’s land tenure is based on mobile land use in grazing lands with a high degree of resource utilisation. Traditionally, in Maasai lands territorial clan-sections (olosho, pl. iloshon) have controlled the land and grazing areas since the beginning of the nineteenth century (Ndagala 1990: 26). The Maasai themselves often say that they can graze their livestock anywhere they choose within “Maasailand”. This means that the land is said to be a pasture where members of society openly practise free grazing, a practise ruled by Maasai groups of people, sections. The sections of the Maasai people are defined as being polito-territorial structures, which have been the largest territorial land areas in Maasai land. The Maasai land was divided into some 20 tribal sections. Major Tanzanian sections (iloshon) are: the Kisongo, the Serenget, the Salei, the Purko, the Laitayok, and the Loitai. Grazing of pastures depends on where the Maasai have resided during the previous few years. In the Loliondo and Sale areas, the different pastoral sections of the Maasai are the Kisongo, the Loita, the Laitayok and the Salei along with the Purko Maasai, who, from

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the 1920s onwards, have lived and practised communal livestock herding on the Serengeti Plains and the Ngorongoro highlands. The agropastoral Sonjo reside in the Sale Division. Today, the total population number for the Sonjo is c. 33,000 people, who live in six administrated villages, of which are all situated on the hillsides and flatlands. Traditionally, the Sonjo live in compact villages and practise hill-furrow irrigated agriculture. They also keep small numbers of livestock and practise both hunting and bee-keeping in their subsistence economy. Among the Sonjo people, the whole agricultural community organises and participates in the irrigated agriculture. The Sonjo land tenure system has been shaped over many centuries under irrigated agriculture. According to customary territorial rights, individual fields are hereditary individual property, but bush land, minor pastures and water for irrigation are held communally. Even today some 75 per cent of the old cultivated land in the Sonjo villages is artificially cultivated. The remaining 25 per cent is cultivated based on periodic fallowing (Potkanski 1987: 207). Sonjo natural resource management is well-organised, and irrigation keeps the productivity of agricultural land efficient. Today, the Sonjo keep three different kinds of agricultural land, which are usually privately owned. The availability of water is the basis of the Sonjo people’s existence and water management is vitally important in natural resource management (see Adams et al 1994).

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The effects of land and rural development policies in Tanzanian rural lands in the Loliondo and the Sale Division In the Tanzanian Ngorongoro area, the colonial governments began to control space and exploit land territory as state “crown property”. During colonial times in Tanzania both German (1885-1919) and British (1919-1961) colonial administrators adopted identical land policies in Tanganyika in order to control land. Tanzanian land was regulated under the Land Ordinance of 1923, which stated that: (1) all land is publicly owned and under the control of the State (public lands); (2) land rights and titles are based on use; (3) commoditisation of and speculation on land are prohibited; and (4) rights of occupancy is a title to use and occupy the land. It is the only recognised tenure and is held in two ways, under a Granted Rights of Occupancy, GRO and a Deemed Rights of Occupancy, DRO (Tenga 1991: 19; Fimbo 1992: 3–7). In areas with abundant wildlife resources, the value of land was mainly based on hunting and scientific land and resource management. State laws were governed by the conservation ideology of controlling wildlife and nature in conservation units. The large land territories were seen as un(der)utilised and unclaimed. This entitled the deployment of native spatial practises and representations. Early land laws and policies were motivated by the desire to generate revenue and develop the land’s resources in the way that government deemed desirable. The government laws and policies also determined how human activities as they still do/were to be managed in Tanzanian rural lands (Igoe & Brockington 1999: 11). The notable conservation and game control ordinances during the following decades were the Game

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Preservation Ordinance of 1921, the Game Ordinance of 1940, the National Parks Ordinance of 1948, the Fauna Conservation Ordinance of 1951 and Ngorongoro Conservation Area Ordinance of 1959. All these Acts resulted in the formation of nature reserves and landuse/conservation plans in the whole Ngorongoro District, of which the Loliondo and Sale Divisions were part. In the 1950s, the Serengeti National Park (SNP) (1951) and the Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA) (1959) were established with strict conservation rules. According to the nature conservation laws, all human action was forbidden in the National Park. In 1959, the Loliondo Division and a part of the Sale Division were also designated as a wildlife conservation area and named “the Loliondo Game Controlled Area” (the LGCA) (NLUPC 1994: 40). During the 1960s, the British designed a “Maasai District”. This area contained a population of 45,000 Maasai, one million head of cattle, and about 1.25 million sheep and goats. The District also included small numbers of non-Maasai and non-pastoral populations (Moris 1981: 11). The Maasai District was administered from the town of Monduli and had two sub-District offices: Loliondo in the Loliondo village and Kibaya at the Ngorongoro Crater. In 1974, the Maasai District territory was subdivided; the new Districts were 1. the Kiteto District in the south, 2. Monduli in the northeast and 3. Ngorongoro in the northwest. From that time forwards the administrative Ngorongoro District Headquarters lay in the Loliondo Division. In the new Maasai District the British colonialists “recognised” pastoral land use and the local population as an “unsettled” one on which order needed to be imposed. In state policies, the Maasai interest had to be “defended” by controlling agricultural encroachment, but livestock movements were restricted. Agriculture was forbidden by special land laws until the 1930s

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(Århem 1985: 34; Jacobs 1980: 1). The protective policies defending Maasai interests changed in the 1960s. After independence, both land alienation and encroachment of farmers by such people as the Arusha, the Iraque and the Chagga took place on Maasai lands as well as in the Ngorongoro District.

From independence onwards in the Maasai lands Tanzania became independent in 1961. New policies of land nationalisation were introduced, even in the most remote and marginal areas of the country. During the 1960s, the Tanzanian State chose a different route in politics and economics from Kenya and pursued its indigenous Ujamaa policy. In Kenya, under colonialism, large tracts of fertile land (Crown Land) had already been alienated; and generally, communal tenure has not been emphasised in the country. After independence, a redistribution of freehold land in Kenya was carried out after the gaining of independence through a Million Hectare Scheme. The land tenure reform emphasised registered private individual ownership for African farmers. The land redistribution involved the subdivision of large European farms that had been operating before independence on the best farmland in the country (Bruce 1989: 21, 24). In Kenya, private ownership rights have derived from the sovereign (the president), and they have remained legitimate, since they were established during colonial times. For instance, Native lands (trustlands) are held by statutory trustees and not directly by indigenous occupants (Okoth-Ogendo 2000: 123). After independence, the new Tanzanian government inherited the radical title to all land in

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Tanzania under the control and subject to the disposition of the President. At the same time a new Land Ordinance of 1923 with the concept of public land was taken over by the new government (Fimbo 1992: 3). When the Tanzanian State took control of Maasai and Sonjo lands from the 1960s onwards, two major events took place in the Maasai District in Tanzania: the Livestock and Range Management Project and the Ujamaa Villagisation. The state tried to regulate such land use as livestock grazing and to ensure both development and sedentarisation among the pastoral Maasai in northern rangelands. These goals were implemented through the Range Development and Management Act of 1964. The purpose of the act was to regulate grazing and water use in “Range Management Areas” and to modernise the pastoral Maasai. This law was also designed for land areas where there was competition for land between peasants and herders. In “Range Management Areas”, the Maasai herders were to form registered “Ranching Associations” (RAs). They were promised 99year leasehold rights for their “ranching land” areas. In 1965, the Ministry of Agriculture established a Range Management Commission in the Maasai District to implement the Act of 1964. The implementation of the act was slow, and only four widely scattered RAs had begun to operate by 1969 (Jacobs 1980: 3; Århem 1985: 25; LTWG 1992: 4). The Tanzanian Government entered into an agreement with USAID in mid-1969 to start a ten-year Maasai Range and Management Project, called Operation Imparnati which was to run from the 1970s to the 1980s. The project began in 1970, and its initial goal was to assist the Maasai Range Commission with the task of increasing the livestock productivity of the Maasai pastoralists. Another aim was to form 21 ranching associations, RAs, througout the entire

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Maasai District. The project made a serious effort to create an efficient marketing system and give technical input (cattle dips) to the livestock sector in Tanzania. In 1975, there were only eight registered RAs in the Maasai District (Parkipuny 1975: 154; Jacobs 1980: 4– 6; Moris 1981: 19 20). In several reports it was admitted afterwards that the Operation Imparnati project was a complete failure stemming from the fact that the planning did not include the Maasai themselves; as quoted by Parkipuny (1975), “The project failed because the territorial units for ranching associations were too large to permit effective cooperation among individual families and specific development inputs were being planned for the Maasai and not with them.” The spatial formation of RAs was enforced in different decades both in Tanzania and in Kenya. In Kenya Maasai land, the reform of “group ranches” developed from the 1950s onwards. This land reform meant a conversion of common land pasture to group tenure as a basis of group ranches. This sub-Division of land was seen as a compromise between the state’s preference for private land ownership and the indigenous system of communal tenure (Grandin 1987: 203). The Ujamaa Villagisation in the 1970s was based on the Rural Lands Act of 1973 and the Villages and Ujamaa Villages Act of 1975. Both Acts aimed at eliminating customary rights through due process of law. In addition, the law of 1975 provided for the territorial jurisdiction of Ujamaa villages and the registration of administrative village boundaries. The period of 1974 1976 brought new dimensions to the development processes, which began to emerge in the Maasai land areas. During the Ujamaa period, the primary state emphasis on development was placed on Villagisation and on agricultural production. In Maasai

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land areas the aim of the Ujamaa Villagisation was to resettle the resident Maasai into 160 livestock development villages. In the demarcation of the village boundaries, the new boundaries in the Ujamaa livestock development villages were supposed to follow the demarcated boundaries of the eight RAs. The state was also to facilitate the building of roads and permanent water supplies (cattle dips) for each livestock development village by means of the Operation Imparnati project (Moris 1981: 20; Wøien 1998). In the Maasai District, more than 2,000 Maasai families were reported to have moved into the livestock development villages. By mid 1975, most of these Maasai were reported to have moved especially in the areas of Ngorongoro and Loliondo (Jacobs 1980: 6; Parkipuny 1975: 154). For the Maasai, Villagisation was seen as an effort at sedentarisation and depriving them from their livestock. The new livestock villages distorted the functionality of the traditional Maasai mobile herding system. This change in land use raised problems in land and natural resources management. There also occurred political conflicts among state institutions over development planning goals in the area. In the range areas the Operation Imparnati project was criticised by state institutions (the Ministry of Agriculture, the Maasai District Council and regional administrative authorities). The project was seen to have duplicated development and planning targets with existing Government plans (Moris 1981: 15–16). Different state institutions in the regional development sector did not encourage range development because ranching schemes had remained unknown to them. Also, during the Ujamaa Villagisation, the Sonjo irrigated agricultural land use in the Sale Division was affected by the agricultural development and Villagisation efforts. This meant resettlement of ancient

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villages on new sites (Adams et al 1994). Despite the forced movement, the indigenous Sonjo land tenure systems maintained the status quo. On Sonjo lands, irrigated agricultural fields were kept both on the hillsides and in the valleys. The Sonjo pastures and bush lands were kept in the surrounding forest areas. Furthermore, due to the Decentralisation of the Government Administration Act of 1972, the Villagisation imposed a new authority structure on the traditional Maasai community and created Development Councils during the 1970s. In the new village governments, new institutions took power from the local authorities in land allocation and land usage in the registered villages in the Maasai District. The village governments were also given a certain measure of administrative autonomy (Århem 1985: 22; Tenga 1992: 9). Further, the Ngorongoro District was established in 1979, the Loliondo Division was registered in 1975 and the Sale Division, five years later, in 1980, with designated village lands. In the Ngorongoro District, the conservation emphasis extended to surrounding rangelands where the annual wildlife migration took place. Land policies effects from 1980s onwards in the Loliondo and Sale Divisions During a liberal economic period, namely the 1980s, economic use of land and natural resources was heavily emphasised in Tanzania through state interventions. Political changes were made and, in 1983, the National Agricultural Policy (AGRIPOL) was created. Due to increases in human and livestock populations, ten years later, the new National Land Policy of 1995 inaugurated. The Policy had a new individualised tenure policy towards land matters, although it tried to

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regulate large-scale investors in the agricultural sector (Mattee & Shem 2006: 21; URT 1998a). The Policy recognised the exchange value of land which meant that the land value was raised sharply in Tanzania. At the same time, commercial farming and village titling by demarcation of boundaries and certificates of village land by the Minister of Lands was encouraged in all village lands in Tanzania (Sundet 1995; Tenga 1997, 1998: 123; Lerise 2000: 8). Liberal land policy had a direct cause and was a consequence of land and resource management problems of the 1990s in the Loliondo and Sale Divisions. By the end of the 1980s, the Maasai faced severe threat of land loss in their communal village lands in the Loliondo Division. This occurred because Loliondo village lands became a target area for immigrants and outside investors, while signs of privatisation were emerging on the Sonjo lands in the Sale Division. In the Loliondo Division, state administrators allowed land grants and hunting concessions under the LGCA to Tanzanian and non-Tanzanians or to Tanzanian state companies (TANAPA) (including GRO rights for game hunting and game cropping for 66 years). The Loliondo land use plan also states that by December 1985 there were about 100 requests for allocation of agricultural land in the Loliondo Division (NLUPC 1993). Although some land allocations were illegally enacted, they were approved either at the District level or centrally by the Ministry of Lands, Housing and Urban Development, or by the Ministry of Tourism, Natural Resources and Environment (NLUPC 1994). Experiments in large-scale farming as well as increased wildlife and tourism activities such as hunting augmented in the western part of the Loliondo Division. At the same time, according to the village land use

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plans, authorities approved communal livestock herding to be considered along with conservation activities a major land-use activity of most importance for the herders. In the Sale Division, at the end of the 1980s, the increase in the Sonjo population resulted in the extension of agriculture to marginal bush lands. This meant spread of new settlements (satellite villages) in lands outside village areas. New land encroachment meant intensified land demand and competition between different land users, such as the Maasai and the Sonjo, and thus increased resource-based conflicts (Potkanski and Adams 1998). At the same time when the situation of the Loliondo/Sale critical land- and natural- resources use became public in Tanzania, conservationists expressed worries about the decreasing wildlife habitats in the Loliondo Division. As a result, the National Land Use Planning Commission (NLUPC) prepared a comprehensive village land-use plan for the Loliondo Division (see NLUPC 1994). The village land-use plan subdivided village land into clear zones: cultivation, conservation or pasture. In the 1990s, after the land demarcation and titling programme of the Loliondo Division, the Maasai also received their land title deeds to the Loliondo village lands. Over the following years the village land title deeds did not guarantee access to Maasai pastoral resources, and the local Village Councils lost control in land-use management issues. During the liberal period in 1993, in the Loliondo Division Game Controlled Area, a long-term licensed hunting and development permit (10 years) was granted to a non-Tanzanian private individual (Brigadier Mohammed Al-Nayhan of the United Arab Emirates). The contract was signed between the Ngorongoro

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District Council and a wealthy private non-Tanzanian person, but the Office of the President, the Ministry of Natural Resources and Tourism as well as the Attorney General’s office were also involved in the process (Mmuya & Chaliga 1994: 150). The hunting contract also included certain developmental benefits for the Loliondo Division. This long-term licensed hunting contract (the Loliondogate) became a contested issue in the land politics of the Loliondo Division. The local Maasai realised that not only did the private hunting rights on the village lands ran counter to the legalised Maasai land rights, but also they allowed GRO rights to other land/resource users on village lands of the Loliondo Division. The hunting activities also impeded Maasai mobile livestock grazing and resource utilisation. The land management situation became increasingly competitive under the LGCA area. The land loss and hunting concession contributed to latent tensions and dissatisfactions of the Maasai people. This turned into open local resistance of land grants and resource-use rights that had been given under the Loliondo Game Controlled Area. In 1999, the Loliondo Gate Hunting Contract was revoked. At the same time the Land Act and the Village Land Act of 1999 were also passed and approved by the Tanzanian Parliament (see URT 1999). Illegal measures were found in the hunting contract according to the Wildlife Conservation Act of 1974. The purpose of this Act was to control the use of wildlife resources and improve their protection. Thus, the hunting contract lacked not only a legal basis but also resulted in excessive hunting activities in protected areas. Nevertheless, the new renewable short-term (five-year) hunting contract was re-drawn to permit hunting in the LGCA in 2002. The contract was sealed between the Director of Wildlife (the Ministry of Tourism, Natural

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Resources and Environment) and a Tanzanian hunting company. Because of these major changes in land and natural resources development and property concepts in the Loliondo Division, the local Maasai brought legal claims during the 1990s. The Maasai also demanded a different approach to land and conservation matters from the Tanzanian government. A new Wildlife Policy was adopted in 1998 and the Wildlife Act was revised in 2004 (see URT 1998b). Both the policy and the revised Act endeavour to give more power to local communities and the private sector and to strengthen communitybased conservation in Tanzania (Mattee & Shem 2006: 29). This trend is needed because the local Ngorongoro Maasai have felt for decades that they were being treated unjustly due to the dispossession of their land property and land rights (see McCabe 2003; Johnsen 2000; Shivji & Kapinga 1998). Johnsen (2000: 152) points out that nature conservation, for example, in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA), has mainly involved land alienation, restrictions imposed on the pastoral way of life and finally, broken promises. Alike, within NCA-area, the Ngorongoro Conservation Area Authority has been given extensive powers under the legislation to control local land use and development activities (Perkin 1993: 240). Thus, for decades, in Tanzanian Maasai lands, the conservation ideology and resource management has primarily emphasized nature and single-use wildlife conservation. The single-use wildlife conservation has increased marginalisation and impoverishment of the local Maasai (especially in the NCA area) and worsened the land management strategies of the Maasai in Tanzanian rangelands. These developments have resulted in the Maasai expressing strong desire for the right to practise community-based conservation, and for more control and ownership of their lands and more involvement in

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land planning and management. This desire has resulted in many workshops concerning land ownership, land policy and legislative changes in Tanzania and Kenya being organised for the Maasai people in recent decades (see i.e. Cotula et al 2005). Also, some individual Maasai have been excellent game wardens for years in Tanzania and Kenya (personal communication, Gill Shepherd 2006). There have been well-known experiments in community-based conservation projects in wildlife areas in shared landscapes in Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia and Zambia. Internationally the best known project has been the Zimbabwe's Communal Areas Management Programme for Indigenous Resources (CAMPFIRE), which was carried out between 1990 and 2000. The project was considered one of the leading community conservation initiatives in Africa and it attracted considerable international interest and analysis. During recent years the CAMPFIRE project has had its positive experiences but major difficulties as well (see Hanks 1996; Balinth & Mashinya 2006).

Conclusions The situation presented in this article shows how village lands of the Loliondo and Sale Division are gradually changing due to certain external and global forces. In the Loliondo and Sale Division, local people’s natural resources management problems can be related to land loss and post-Villagisation land and conservation policies of the state. The land in rangeland areas has become the reified “object” with an emphasis on state development planning where state policies have had a bias towards pastoral people’s lands and natural resource management strategies. There has

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been a lack of understanding on the part of policymakers of mobile pastoralism in common lands. In both Divisions, the history of land and the natural resources property changes show clearly the difficulty of the sustainable land management systems (local tenure systems) and access to native lands. Major land problems related to land loss originate from past State control and state legality in land ownership and land policy. Today village lands hold multiple land users, and varied property systems in land/resource use exist. In rangeland areas, the evolution of land property due to land laws and policies has meant loss of traditional land and has undermined land rights. Currently, with the rapid pace of economic and climate change, agriculture has been steadily increasing among the Maasai and the Sonjo peoples. For the Maasai agriculture has been increasing in the entire SerengetiMara ecosystem, both in Tanzania and Kenya (see Homewood et al 2001; McCabe 2003). The adoption of agriculture has also increased the workload of the Maasai women (Ojalammi 2006: 69). The major reasons for the increasing agricultural production (such as raising potatoes, beans and vegetables) of the local Maasai can thus be a reduction in accessible and productive pastures, a security coping mechanism against recurring drought and a survival method for keeping the herds. There has also been a trend towards expansion of protected areas for conservation purposes with the designation of a new territorial unit of improved land management: the Wildlife Management Areas (WMAs). Land units in rangelands for common land users are becoming fragmented into unprotected and protected units where overall competition for land and natural resources is growing. The legal reforms were made in Tanzania in the 1990s due to worsening land issues. As a result of the

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reforms, public state ownership of land has continued in Tanzania. As McAuslan (1998: 528-529) and Wily (2000:2) argue, the newest Land and Village Law of 1999 tries to facilitate the right of citizens to access and own land. They stress that most importantly; the Act of 1999 gave a statutory form of ownership to the customary regimes in common lands in Tanzania. In addition, the Act of 1999 tried to regulate the methods of allocation of land by the state and increase the marketable land. The Acts puts the authority for granting all right of occupancy in the hands of the central government. By so doing, the Act names existing and well-established Village Councils as land managers. The Village Council is responsible for sustainable development in the management of village land. Due to legal changes, powers of the Village Councils today have the sole responsibility for overseeing the people’s decisions on the designation of land within the village or whether the land use is based on household, clan, groups of people or some other form (ibid. 2000). These legal reforms and policies have affected and touched on the local populations in the Loliondo and Sale Divisions. The increased value of land through conservation and the tourism industry means a major effect on tourism and the hunting industry in the village lands and the superposition of different tenure regimes. In this conflicted situation and despite the acknowledgement of all positive or negative changes in land and natural resources management, the new Land and Village Laws of 1999 might give hope for the chance of the local people to participate at the local level in natural resources management. The Laws of 1999 are still waiting to be implemented in many places in Tanzania. Thanks to the Acts of 1999, the acknowledgement of customary land tenure for landholders is now properly recognised. Generally, in

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the long run, the rise of land regulations in protected areas may affect biodiversity and wildlife conservation nearby or in the conservation areas. The important current question concerning local land property and natural resources is this: do the local Maasai or the Sonjo people have a fair chance to participate in the management of wildlife activities and natural resources with transparent revenues and benefit sharing with the targeted village councils? In the future, there can be an unbalanced situation with the growing human population, increase in steady cultivation and increased competition for natural resources such as water and grazing land. Sustainable land use and a natural management resource scenario will not be easy in Tanzania. Today the local land plans give top priority to nature conservation in a multiple and conflicted natural resource use matters in rangeland areas in northern Tanzania. In order to obtain well-established sustainable natural resource management systems and keep up rural productivity, the land rights of citizens and their community-based resource use involvement should be encouraged and recognised in competing resource environments such as in the Ngorongoro District in Northern Tanzania.

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Changes in Traditionally Protected Forests and Leadership in the Village of Mkata in northeastern Tanzania

Jussi Ylhäisi Introduction Meeting and interpreting a foreign culture has always been a challenge for researchers, colonialists and planners. Despite many guides to the topic, many issues remain either unrecognised or misunderstood for reason ranging from personal interests of the outsider to prevailing views or political limitations. Andrew Sluyther (2002), in his case study of the Mexican landscape in the Veracruz lowlands, gives an excellent model of how Europeans totally misread the environment and the indigenous production system. In West Africa, Fairhead and Leach (1995) studied the Europeans’ misunderstanding of the local shifting cultivation and the meaning of indigenous intact forests and the environment. The desires and fears of the local people also affect both the way various phenomena are presented as well as the way an outsider interprets these phenomena. (Especially when studying a culture in which written traditions, norms, laws and rules do not exist or have not existed, one has to rely on such resources as semiotic interpretations.) It may also be noted that what is often known as the ‘bush’ (a loosely defined part of the territory) by an outsider plays an active role for the local community in the social reproduction of the group or the lineage. In fact, the ‘bush’ is believed to be inhabited by supernatural beings that have a strong influence on the


life of the people living in the surrounding area. The bush is therefore a sacred portion of the territory where many rituals serve to strengthen the harmony between the living people and supernatural powers (acting on behalf of dead ancestors) on the one hand, and the unity among the people themselves on the other. As the home of the supernatural, these areas can also be sources of gifts of game given to the community by their ancestors. Both the protection system and the sizes of protected areas vary along with a community’s production system. According to Gadgil (1996), huntergatherers use larger areas than agriculturalists; but do not normally have protected forests but they do have protected trees, rocks, caves or springs. Unlike shifting cultivators or permanent agriculturists, the huntergatherer mode of production is not based on clearing pieces of land and permanent settlements. This can be one explanation for Gadgil’s analyse based on earlier studies, but future studies may change the present conception of his work. According to Gadgil (1996), also pastoralists and cattle herders seldom have protected forests; instead they have sacred trees and mountains. However, there are pastoralists who have traditionally protected forests (e.g. Shepherd 1992; Maundu et al 2001). One can roughly say that the smaller the mobility of an agricultural society, the smaller the protected areas (Gadgil 1996). Shifting cultivators often have protected areas of the size of 0.01-100 hectares, but much larger areas also exist. As examples, the Ziguas in Tanzania were found to have a protected area of 200 hectares (Mwihomeke et al 1997), and Niamir (1990) mentions the size as 12 km2 in Burkina Faso. These and other local nature conservation and forest management models still exist, although the colonial powers, missionaries and the laws and policies of the


socialistic period did not respect them nor did they even know that these forests existed. There is an active debate concerning the capacity of the local communities in old colonies to maintain their environment. The role of the indigenous people and their institutions in the development of the physical environment is a central issue in the debate. In Tanzania, there are still indigenous forests whose existence is based on the management systems of the pre-colonial society. In this study such forests are called traditionally protected forests, TPFs. In Mkata these forests are remnants of the former coastal forest, and their biodiversity value is high. The present article explains the current situation in the sacred forests and of other types of TPFs belonging to the Soloni clan in Mkata, a people making up part of the Zigua ethnic group in north-eastern Tanzania (Figure 1). These clans have managed the forests since time immemorial. The physical conditions of these pre-colonial forests, their purpose, management rules and the ideas of the local people concerning the future and importance of these forests are the objects of this study. The forests are shown on the map of the Soloni clan area (Figure 2). The field work was conducted during the years 1997-2003, using participatory methods. In the case of the Zigua, the change to the values and methods of a global economy began started only 150 years ago. The Zigua communities’ leadership and autonomy, production systems and even beliefs have changed dramatically during these years. About 2.6% of the land area is still protected by pre-colonial, local community structures. The study shows that precolonial communities established their protection systems for different reasons, based not only on local beliefs but also on different secular and clearly environmental reasons. There are thirteen different


kinds of TPFs (traditionally protected forests). Fewer than half of them are directly related to spiritual matters and are sacred, in origin, while the rest have no spiritual associations. The secular reasons for local communities to protect environment is an important finding.

Figure 1. Ethnic groups’ main areas in Tanzania and the north eastern matrilinear ethnics. Sources: Berry (1971: 113) and Beidelman (1967).


Life and its institutions have changed a lot in Mkata. As an example, no rain ritual has been performed there for 30 years. Many of the most respected sacred sites do not have a ritual maker or even a person who knows how to perform the traditional rituals. The same situation is happening with male initiation rites. Also life expectations of the younger generations are changing. If the forests are unused, many people consider restrictions on their use to be meaningless. There have been severe cases of illegal cutting of forest in the TPFs. There are more and more of villagers who neither respect indigenous regulations nor accept indigenous penalties. Both attitudes are problematic for the indigenous local people. Yet positive developments have also taken place. Nowadays, the central government allows elders to protect TPFs and village governments to create bylaws. During the field work it was found that many young people are ignorant about their village’s TPF sites but they are still interested in learning about their history and values.

Structure and methods The empirical analysis in Chapter 4 is based on material collected during the field work 1997–2003. The knowledgeable key informants of the traditionally protected forests were invited by the chairman of the village to the first meeting. The majority of the participants in the meeting were clan leaders, respected village elders and village council leaders. The participants in the village meeting were asked to give information on the following issues: 1) the names of the traditionally protected forests in their


village, 2) an estimate of the size of the forests, 3) the names of the main trees, 4) the caretakers of the forests, 5) topography, 6) habitats, 7) the condition of particular forests, and 8) the traditional use of the forests. (For details, see pilot study Mwihomeke et al 1998) After the pilot study findings, the hypothesis was that the TPFs are remnants of the former coastal forest (Burgess et al 1992). The Tanzania Forestry Research Institute TAFORI carried out a biodiversity study of the sacred forests, and a comparative study was also made outside the sacred forests to define differences between traditionally protected forests vs. forests on other public lands. In the biodiversity research sampling, land formation, soil type, altitude, tree species, shrubs, herbs, lianas and relative frequencies were identified with the help of local “botanists”. The age composition of trees and their diameter at breast height were assessed to describe the status of forest succession. Mkata represents a village where undisturbed forests are a minority. At the beginning of the study the aims of the research were presented for the villagers. The main findings of the pilot study were also explained (see Mwihomeke et al 1998). The rarity of these forests according to the bibliographical study and the lack of previous studies were explained. After the etnobotanical study (see more, Mwihomeke et al 2000) the results were explained in the village. The vegetation in the forests is unique, but also the forests are also important as a part of local history and local identity. The value is augmented by the fact that in the villages of Zigua there are no surviving structures built in the times before colonialism or from colonial times. In the first meetings with the villagers, they were also informed that there is a need for information about the forests for the preparation of new forest legislation


being enacted by the federal government. Because the TPFs were unstudied they were also unknown and without of knowledge they actually do not exist officially. The specific issues of interest in this case study were geographical location, demography, economy, natural resources, history and special characteristics of the village, its people and their attitudes towards the present and future use of the forests. The local people’s interest in the traditionally protected forests and their use, categories of sacred forests, prohibitions existing in the village, and the role of the caretakers of these forests were examined. Information related to topography, natural resources, settlements, roads and the use of TPFs are shown on the village map (Figure 2). In Mkata, the vegetation categorisation was adapted from the land cover and land use map 1: 250 000 in 1996 (sheet SB37-6, the field work was done in 1994-1996). Information related to the TPFs by ID number on the figure 2 is listed in the Table 2 (Appendix 2). A participatory analysis was carried out with different groups of people: elders, women, men and youths in order to analyse the significance of traditional forests and rituals. In addition, forest officials, traditional caretakers of forests, and immigrants to the village were interviewed. The data collection method was based on rapid rural appraisal, RRA. The data were collected using open and semi-structured discussions during group and village meetings, observations, transect walks, informal discussions and other occasions (various participatory methods are described in e.g. Swantz 1976; Chambers 1983, 1994 and 1997). Two facilitators (one of each sex) were trained in data collection which was made in local language Kizigua.


Different uses and types of traditionally protected forests and sacred forests Traditionally protected forests and sacred or ritual forests have different kinds of protection status, depending on the particular clan and the purpose of the forest. The protection varies from a very strict total ban on use to very soft regulations. A total ban means that even entering the forest is forbidden except for ritual purposes. One important finding of this study is that pre-colonial environmental protection not only arose from the sacred or the supernatural (as is sometimes alleged; see e.g. Baland & Platteau 1996), but also from specific functional needs of the community and the management of the environment. In Table 1 (Appendix 1), the different TPF types are divided into two categories: 1) sacred forests and 2) profane forests. Both categories are classified according to different purposes, but many profane forests also have minor sacred sites. The sacred forests were and are the most important forests of pre-colonial societies, and they had the strictest prohibitions on access and secular utility. People everywhere make a distinction between the sacred and the profane. Items which are sacred are treated with reverence, deference and prohibition, and must be protected from the profane or secular (and from everyday life). Taboos serve as a type of traditional management method, but they are used only in certain situations. The word taboo refers to prohibited and sacred things or people that cannot be touched (by ordinary people) or even mentioned. In a larger context a taboo means an absolute prohibition, on sexual behaviour, on food and drink, and also behavioural norms. Taboos are always related to systems of belief.


Many forest types belonging to profane forests have supernatural elements, and sometimes these elements are so clear that the forests could well be classified under the first sacred forest category, e.g. a ritual site. However, the most important thing in this classification is the fact that sacredness in second category II forest types can also be thought of as a sign or warrant that the area must be conserved for a certain purpose other than their sacredness. In Category I the purpose of the preservation is sacredness itself (more in Ylhäisi 2006).

Case study village of Mkata The highway from Dar es Salaam that leads to Tanga, – Moshi and Nairobi cuts through the centre of Mkata. The road is in very good condition by any international standards. Mkata is also intersected by the Handeni – Mkata unpaved road to the coast. In the village centre there are two schools with classes from grades 1 to 7. Also in the centre are seven bars, grocers, kiosks, a sugarcane pressing plant, a guesthouse, a flour mill with an aggregate, different handicraftsmen, a mosque and a church. There is no electricity. There is a water hydrant in the village centre but, for example in 18.2.2001 three people died of cholera and 40 people were infected with the disease. In 2003 the mobile telephone network GSM was working in the centre, and the village chairman had a GSM phone. During the villagisation programme altogether 11 sub-villages were relocated to this centre (see Fig. 1), but many people have also moved to the centre from other areas. The Soloni clan people are today a minority in their village.


Figure 2. The land use in Mkata village, showing sacred forests, traditionally protected forests and other land use. Detailed information of the TPFs are given in Table 2, by ID number. Sources: URT (1987); URT and MGD (1979).

The population has increased. According to the latest census, taken in 2002, Mkata has 1051


households, each with an average of 6 people. The total population is about 6255. With this population the open cultivated area is less than 0.5 ha per person, but many people are conducting business other than farming, such as charcoal making, etc. The centre of Mkata is surrounded by cultivated lands, but in the eastern part of the village, there is a large forest. The total size of the existing sacred forests in Mkata is about 0.54 km2, and with the vague border forests without ritual sites amount to about 2.65 km2. The total area of the sacred forests that have disappeared is about 1.8 km2. The total area of the TPFs marked on the map is 4.44 km2. The total area of the Soloni clan is about 173 km2. This means that on the map about 2.6% of the clan area was protected at least during pre-colonial times. The map shows that in the Soloni clan area there is still about 40 km2 of closed woodland (mainly miombo), and a little less open woodland (see Fig. 2). The cultivated lands cover 30 km2 and woodlands with scattered croplands cover some 36 km2 along the highway. These cultivated lands are also the same fields that were left unused during the villagisation period (notice the old settlements on the map of Mkata). The size of the cultivated bushlands with scattered crop areas is about 18 km2. This area is directly around the cultivated areas that were traditionally used for shifting cultivation. The following four hiding forests which have been destroyed are not listed in Table 2 (Appendix 2): Kwamchelo, Kwamngubili, Kwamsingwa or Mkwasumahudi and Kwedijenje. Kisole is a still existent hiding forest. Tuliyani and Kwemkawazu are unlisted tongos with graves. Tongo seems to be the central element in the methodology of the shifting cultivation and the ownership rights of the families. It is a physical sign of former settlements and fields of


certain groups and families who were surrounded by the tongo forest (more in Ylhäisi 2006). Mkata is the village where the condition of the TPFs was the worst, according to the pilot study in 23 villages. This situation was also affecting the attitudes of the people concerning the TPFs (attitudes, values of the forests, sacred sites and rituals are discussed in detail in Ylhäisi 2000). In the Soloni clan area, at least 2.6% of the land was protected during pre-colonial times. These sites are strategic sites for biodiversity in the clan’s ancestral lands. It is interesting to compare areas protected by the traditionalists in Zigua with the forests protected by modern governments. A good example for the latter is Finland which has three times been awarded for being the most environmentally sustainable country in the world. Finland is also known as a country of forests (Environmental Sustainability Index 2005: 4 and MAF [2001]). In southern Finland where most of the population lives, 0.6% - 1.6% of the forest lands are officially protected (MAF 2001: 50). The percentage of protected forests of the Soloni clan is of all lands, not just of forest lands. (The population densities of southern Finland and in Mkata are equal). The condition of institutions related to the TPFs in the village of Mkata Ritual societies are unofficial societies of elders and consist of invited clan members only. The age to start participating in ritual societies has been between 40 and 60 and sometimes has been as high as 70. The leader of the committee and the ritual performances is the eldest in the clan. There is only one person who is the leader of the ritual performances. He has an assistant who works with him and who will succeed


him when he dies. Leaders’ duties are to protect the forest, to prepare the soil, “to cool down” (neutralise) the supernatural power what the ritual rain contains and to perform fertilizing rituals (more in Swantz 1986: 175, 176), as well as to organize tree cutting for the purpose of making protective fire borders around the forest. Elders also take care of the ancestral spirits, although today the main task is to ask forgiveness for the wrongdoers and the caretakers. In the area of the Soloni clan, the most recent community ritual was in 1975. When the ritual leader died he had not transmitted his knowledge to any living villager. As a result, there is no future for the rain rituals. The impression is that either the leader did not want to transfer the knowledge to a follower or there were no successor wanting to accept it. In general, more and more clans and rain-making forests are without a ritual maker. Every clan has its own ways for preparing their rituals. Thus the restoration of rituals is difficult, if not impossible. Nevertheless, in Mkata, the Soloni clan has started to educate a new ritual leader for the Maseyo forest, but this project is not very promising (Field notes 1997, 2000, 2003). In clan ritual societies there are usually 6 to 9 members, depending on the number of elder men in the clan at any given time. The elders in Mkata seemed to be unorganised during our first visit on 7 March 1997, but soon after the visit the village elders of Soloni unified in a modern way under the village council of Mkata as a traditional committee. Both the committee’s name and its tasks are modern. The chairman of the committee told us, “It is our purpose to protect traditional forests; promote and discuss all issues related to traditions and history. The committee wants to end all destruction in the TPFs, such as farming and housing, and organise people who have utilized these areas against tradition, to expiate their injury.” The


challenge is huge, because many of the traditions have been forgotten. In the beginning there were nine members, but now there are seven. According to the chairman, “Two members have lost their belief that they would profit anything from the committee. The Soloni clan elders in general are supporting the committee.” People respect their elders, but sometimes it has happened that a tree has been cut in a ritual place, which is an offence against the community. In fact, this has happened in every clan studied in Zigua. As compensation, elders believe that the cutters either will die or fall ill. It is believed that the penalty may be a death that looks like an accident, e.g. a tree falling on the tree cutter, or it may be something similar to what happened to a teacher in Magamba village who tried to shoot the sacred python. The teacher went mad and committed suicide about a year after the event. Such examples can be found in every village. In 1994 Mkata elders attempted to appease the ancestors after someone cut a tree in the sacred forest. These rituals were conducted on the most respected sites by local elders (Field Notes 1997). Most of the abusers of the traditions refuse to accept penalties given to them by elders. Some wrongdoers have also questioned the right of the elders to impose penalties when trees have been cut or land cleared in a TPF. In these kinds of situations the village by-laws are invaluable. Sacrifice is a complicated issue, especially for Christians, because they see such activity as paganism. If a person who has cut a tree or even expanded farmland into a sacred site wants to normalise his/her situation with the community, the elders are needed. The abuser and the ritual leader of the forest enter the place of the abuse wearing black clothes. After praying, they will verify from a hen whether the spirits have accepted the sacrifice. A


problem for the “traditionalists” is that if there is no accepted sacrifice for the disturbed ancestors, ancestor spirits can, according to beliefs, harm their relatives or the community. Clan elders told us that there are people who come and cut trees for their own use, although cutting is forbidden without permission. During the villagisation period, it was mainly the newcomers who took TPFs into the farmlands, but nowadays the TPFs are perhaps suffering more owing to relatives of caretakers establishing new farmlands in these forests. A very typical kind of destruction happens when a farmer whose lands are beside the forest extends his farm into the forest. The rain ritual is organised mainly by males. Male and female elders who participate in the ritual must have children of their own. Both women and men can participate in the land purification and fertilisation rituals. In the earlier times all people participated in the first harvest ritual, tying maize into bundles so that animals could eat as well. Men and women use different paths to reach the place of ritual. There are also particular rituals only for women and organised by women, mainly related to problems of childlessness and family issues. In many clans people have neglected the rain ritual, cooling down and the first harvest when drought or similar problems have occurred. Instead when there are problems related to family and personal issues, such as childlessness, people seek out diviners for advice on what to do (for similar findings, see e.g. Swantz 1986, Hinkkanen 1999). If advised to perform a ritual, people will organise it. In Mkata there are no by-laws to protect the TPFs. According to the chairman of the traditional committee of Mkata, all ritual and burial places, including


koluhombwa, should be protected, but it is unrealistic to rehabilitate the tongo forests, hiding forests and border forests (Field notes 1999). Today responsibility for the care of this forest has been given to the village government because, according to the ritual committee, “it has more power than one person alone”. This attitude indicates that the ritual committee members are still functioning more or less separately from each other, individually on their own in their particular forests. When the knowledge of ritual making disappears, the role and traditional duties of the elders diminish. The duties of the old leaders have also changed in character with the transformation of beliefs. Training for adulthood has been a central issue for the cohesion of the community. It is the central means of transmitting knowledge related to reproduction and maintaining the unity of the community. The last initiation rite to be performed, namely the training of boys for adulthood, was almost thirty years ago. The men who had participated told us that the training had been organised by the elders. According to one of them, Mr. Lukuwa, “We were educated in hunting, building and how to live with our wives after marriage. We also visited different traditionally protected forests. We were also taught the meaning and importance of tambiko, tongo, grave forests, and important trees, which were forbidden to be cut, such as mgude. Nowadays, there is no training like this and it is very sad.” Mr. Lukuwa said that he would teach his own children about traditional issues by himself, because he knows that the elders are no longer taking on this responsibility. There are villages in the Handeni District where the training still exists during school holidays, and according to school teachers in Kangata, over half the children participate. Christians and very religious Muslim families do not send their children to the


training because during training girls dance topless and bad language is used. The position of the traditionalists is also changing because of new influences from outside the community. The new institutions are further changing by adapting to local needs. These processes are clearly evident in the new religions. For example, the right timing of rain is vital to these subsistence farming communities. Churches and mosques have adapted to the area’s conditions by sharing the responsibility with the people who are waiting for a good harvesting after good rains. For instance, in 1996–1997 during a long drought in Kwamagome, which lasted for eight months, churches organised rain rituals. (After the long drought, the heaviest rain in at least 250 years fell in northern Tanzania, the El Niño of 1997 [Hagberg 2004]). It took six days before the rain came. People agreed that the rain ritual is very important (see Ylhäisi 2000 for further discussion). For the Islamic people the traditional rainmaking is not so difficult to participate in because, according to Islam (or at least the local interpretation of Islam), “The rainmaking ritual is allowed to be a part of the traditions according to the Prophet Mohammed, and one has to respect the ancestors”. According to elder Mnonwa, from the community perspective, the differences in rainmaking can be described in a simplified manner: “Christians and Muslims are asking for rain on different days, on Friday and on Sunday, but for traditionalists there is no special day for the rain ritual. The tambiko (organised after every seeding period) is not a regular happening any more because the young people do not know anything about the ritual as they did in the past.”


Different local views of traditionally protected forests In this section opinions of the people of Mkata about the TPFs are cited. The citations give an idea of the situation in a village in which most of the inhabitants are newcomers, ritual rainmaking has not been transferred to the next generation, all TPFs are endangered and there is a great pressure to use every forest in the area. The meeting in which these views were expressed was held in the village office of Mkata, and there were 33 people present in the small room. The retired former CCM chairman of Mkata, Mr. Bakari Marunda, who was the political leader of the village during the destruction of the TPFs in the area stated: “According to the traditional committee, which is organised by the assignment of the village government and political leaders, there are traditionally protected forests in the area and I accept this. But now the sacred forests are being cut. This has happened when there were no leaders to control them. Have you seen these destroyed forests? They are Kwamsingwa, Kwamngubili, Kwamchelo, Kwedihalawa*, Kwangwihilili*, Mamboya*, Mwanamchele hill*, Kwampawa*, Mazingira forest, and Kwedijenje.” (Later the names of the forests were checked and it was found that those marked with an asterisk do not belong to the Soloni clan area. They are all hiding places outside the Soloni clan area.) “I made my own shamba, farm, into a ritual forest. Those which I mentioned, they are something other than ritual forests. Hassan Marunda, my brother, was the village leader when I made a decision to allow the cultivation of these areas. About the destruction of Kwamgunga, the newcomers went there and they started cultivation. I told this to the village leaders, but nobody said anything and after that I decided to take


for my own use some small areas which were not yet used, for cultivation. In addition, the former long-time leader in the same sub-village saw the destruction of the TPFs, but he did not mention or interfere in the issue.” “The first traditionally protected forests that were destroyed were Koluhombwa, Kwamnguni and thirdly Kwamgunga. Kwamgunga we destroyed about 1992. [According to an air photo taken on 15 July 1982, it was destroyed already before the year 1982. Air photo 15th July of 1982, 057, TNB 6553 m A.M.S.L. Contract No. 197. Department of Map and Geodetical Survey, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.] Nobody ever mentioned to me about traditional penalties concerning and related to the destruction of TPFs. I accept the decision of the meeting that clearance should not continue any more. And I have made my own decision to leave the land.” As one elder put it, “You leave because you did not have time to sow before the rains”. Actually the atmosphere was relatively tense, although at the same time there was an unfaltering consensus on the critical situation in the TPFs. Then the former CCM leader continued, addressing the issue of deaths of the abusers discussed earlier: “I want to say about the deaths of the abusers – this is not true, they have not died because of that. Also I want to say that earlier the leader of the government did not believe in spirits, but now a foreigner comes to study traditional forests and he is co-operating with the government – maybe it is a time to sacrifice a goat and pray to simu, spirits.” The former CCM leader’s last comment was sarcastic and meant for the traditionalists as well as for the officers (foresters, village officers and the ward leader). Partly for this reason, the village secretary asked him: “Do you really also mean what you have


said, and if someone has destroyed some TPFs, what should that man do?” The former CCM leader replied: “In my mind, in that kind of a situation a goat should be taken and sacrificed and the spirits should be prayed to”. People were quiet, which culturally means dissatisfaction with the answer, and the former CCM leader continued: “I think all people should sit down and discuss these things and everybody should have a possibility to reach an agreement”. The forester of the Mkata Ward, Mr. Walles, said: “I blame the elders because they have not managed the forests seriously and they have not educated the younger generations in the significance of the forests. Also people who have destroyed traditionally protected forests have not been penalised as was the custom during the time of the forefathers. Now that the forests have disappeared, whom should we blame? It is now time to adjust rules that will help to protect the rest of the forests, and where possible, to stop agriculture in the areas that were forests before. The people of Mkata should make their by-laws. They should then be approved by the Ward and even by the District Council. And I am sure that these kinds of rules will be approved. I believe that traditionally protected forests are still respected. For me it is a good and easy way to use traditions for protection compared to the government system, because according to the laws of the government, people are taken to court and sometimes they must stay in prison for many years.” Forester Mr. Kileo from the Handeni District said: “The new forestry policy of the government is based on communities that are capable of maintaining forests. All the government catchment forests near villages will be managed by villagers. In the future the government will send only skilled staff and information about the


management of the forests. So it is even wrong to say that the government would come and stay to protect these traditional forests.” (This was the first time I heard a Tanzanian forester talk about the New Forestry Policy of 1998. Later in July 2002, the new Forest Act was published. The forest law is in line with the Forest Policy. The Policy and the Act give communities the responsibility for taking care of the forests in their area. In January 2003, the law was still unknown to foresters at the TAFORI Research station in Lushoto.) Mr. Said, a participant in the meeting stated: “The government is not capable of protecting forests. To solve the problems of TPFs it is more essential to find work and livelihoods for young people. If someone has earnings, he cannot go and cut trees for charcoal production.” Youth leader Marunda stated: “There are also people who are sending workers to cut trees and making charcoal to have an income. Also, it is a problem that the elders have not informed us about the traditional forests.” The youth leader is the leader of the youth association, which has a co-operative in charcoal making. He is also the son of a newcomer and therefore could speak “against” elders, which is quite unusual in the villages of Tanzania. Young man Said Obila said: “To educate young people it is better to use books or institutions, because it is not easy for elders to teach their children about the forests and their use.” Among younger men suspicion arose about the elders’ knowledge of tambiko, ritual making. Elder Juma Ally (the secretary of the traditional committee) commented on this suspicion: “Elders showed me the ritual making when I was young.” Then someone asked him: “Why is the new generation not shown what the tambiko is?” The reply reflects the differences in the


ways of life between different generations: “These days, young people are interested in different issues and they are busy. It is difficult to sit down with them and teach.” The youth leader continued: “Elders are those who do not have time to teach young people. In addition, young people are not opposed to following them. But the main point is that the forests are disappearing. And every clan which has traditional forests should invite its members and educate them. Elders are in a position similar to teachers: Every year they must teach a new age group. These issues need to be taught the same way as it is being taught if one has intercourse with a woman from the same clan, one has to pay a penalty of one goat and leave the girl.” Mzee, elder Athuman Sangali stated: “It is true that the youth do not know about tambiko because the latest was in 1975 – so the young people cannot know about it. And after some time elders will be gone and nobody here will have any knowledge about the issue.” Mr. Omar Bakari Bwanga said: “In my opinion if nobody knows anything about tambiko forests then these TPFs will also not have any protection. I suggest that the youth and elders unify to protect ritual forests.” Views on the future of the TPFs According to the elders of Magamba, a village 40 km away from Mkata (6.5.1998), “The young people do not respect the TPFs and this problem exists in every clan today. The young people make their farms in the TPFs where the land is fertile.” In Kangata, another village 40 km away from Mkata, clan elder Ngola believes that the youth are


interested in tambiko when they reach the right age. Men are normally invited to it after their marriage and when their own children are grown-up. Then things will go smoothly. The youth like also to participate in traditional ukala dances. A young man in Kangata said: “Young people are in such a hurry and there are so many other things to do. I am not interested in my father’s beliefs, but forests will bring rain. The lack of forests will be a big problem in the future. If the forests disappear, then there will be no rain – that is a common attitude. Rain is, even now, the main problem in the area.” The followers of the new religions (Islam and Christianity) in the area get along well and accept one another. There is no conflict between these two religions and hopefully there is also greater understanding for the traditionalists in the future. People in the villages are very tolerant of newcomers. Sometimes newcomers are allowed to do things that the villagers could not do themselves. For example, in one village there is a small tambiko forest very near the village centre. The newcomers cleared most of the forest and a Koran teacher made his farm on the site. The same thing has happened in Mkata where the most respected forests have been lost to cultivation by newcomers with the exception of the certain specific ritual sites (although Oppen [1992] discusses “communal lands” in general and he does not discuss ritual sites; he has a different view of the newcomers’ chances to affect traditional customs related to land ownership). Some Zigua traditionalists seem to be confused about the changes in their environment. Unfortunately, similar confusion seems to exist elsewhere as well. Sinha (1995: 284) mentions that in India, Muslims are cutting sacred trees from sacred forests that have been protected by the Hindus for thousands of years. In


many cases it seems that the Hindus are hiring Muslims to do the work, to “avoid” their own moral problems. Mr. Hajee Abdalah (Mkata Ward Secretary) said in the village meeting that traditional rules are not being respected for two reasons: 1) Young people do not want to have a traditional lifestyle; 2) In Mkata there are newcomers who do not observe the rules or do not care about them. The first reason will be especially important in the future because it will have effects even in the “peripheral” locations. Both reasons are related to each other, especially in places where even the elders have disengaged from the traditional lifestyle and values. This situation combined with the number of newcomers may lead to fierce competition in the utilisation of indigenous forests. In various meetings it was understood that in general it is necessary to find a solution for the future of the TPFs. The national government needs to establish guidelines and the village councils need to formulate rules for protecting these forests. For example, in the women’s meeting in Mkata on 29 May 1998, at the end the women pointed out very forcefully that forest logging is an extremely acute problem. “The cutting should be stopped immediately. If someone is logging trees, it is better to take this person to court”, said one. The village secretary and the secretary of the traditional committee, elder Juma Ally, told that elders have already decided to protect ritual forests. Women were glad to hear the message and commented: “It is also the women’s will, but we were afraid to express it because we did not know the attitude of the men”. Unfortunately, the destruction has continued in the research period. By contrast, in the North Pare


Mountains, in villages of Vuchama-Ngofi and Simbomu, the condition of the TPFs became visibly better during the same observation period. In the North Pare Mountains the people made by-laws, which allowed elders to protect their forests. The village councils support the caretakers if they need help. (For more about these by-laws see in Ylhäisi 2004) There is a need to emphasise the special nature of these forests, and also at the same time to point out that the cutting of trees from these forests will soon end because they are such small areas. The profits from these activities will only benefit few individuals, not the common good. Even some clan elders are destroying these forests. Such elders are doing doubly wrong. Traditionally, they are the guardians of these forests and of their ancestors’ graves as well as the clan’s secrets and history. If they are utilising the sacred sites for their material needs, they have betrayed their task and people. Secondly, their traditional rights do not allow them to utilise their clan’s sacred sites. In such situation the elders should lose their duties as caretakers of these sites to the village councils. For example, in Mkata two tongos were not listed as TPFs in this study because their caretaker did not want them to be listed, even though he was actively participating in and promoting the protection of TPFs elsewhere. Obviously, he considered these tongos with graves to be his private lands and wanted to feel free to do with them whatever he pleased. It is obvious that for the government, tongos are too complex, too numerous and territorially large an issue to legitimate and include in a general law related to land use. Ownership rights must follow the existing use rights and customary rights as was done formerly. It is the opinion of the Chairman of the Mkata Traditional Committee, who is also the eldest of the first comer clan, that only ritual sites, sacred sites and graves should be protected by


law. It is a wise way to avoid complicated land rights issues and problems.

Acknowledgements The study is based on field work carried out during 1997-2000 in co-operation with the Tanzania Forest Research Institute (TAFORI) in the research project on “Popular Participation in the Management of Local Natural Resources: The role of endogenous institutions in Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Mozambique” and in 2003 as part of the research project on “Community-based Natural Resource Management Systems in Tanzania: Conditions and Impediments” in the Institute of Development Studies in co-operation with the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki. I am grateful to these projects, as well as for the cooperation of villagers in Kangata, Kwamagome and Mkata, the Handeni District Officers, and the Handeni Integrated Agriculture Program, HIAP. I am also grateful to the Academy of Finland, the Finnish Cultural Foundation, the Huhtamäki Foundation and the Tanzanian Forestry Research Institute for the financial support and facilities; and for the comments of Professors John Westerholm, Juhani Koponen, Dr. Gill Shepherd, and my assistants in the field Mr. M. Mbazi and Ms. M. Magarage, as well as language corrections made by MA (Cantab) James Murray and the Language Services of the University of Helsinki.


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Gadgil, M. 1996. Managing Biodiversity. In: Gaston K. (ed.) Biodiversity. A Biology of Numbers and Difference. pp. 345-366. Giblin, J. 1992. The politics of environmental control in Northeastern Tanzania, 1840-1940. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia. Shepherd, G. 1992. Managing Africa’s Tropical Dry Forests: A Review of Indigenous Methods. Overseas Development Institute, London. Hagberg, E. 2004. The effects of the 1997-1998 El Niño event on the fossil land use system in Engaruka, Tanzania. Swedish Univ. Agricultural Sciences, Minor Field Studies 275, Uppsala. Hinkkanen, R. 1999. Esi-isät ja tiedonhankinta. Ennustus sukuma-nyamwezi-yhteisössä LuoteisTansaniassa. M.A. thesis. Dept. Cultural anthropology. Univ. Helsinki, Helsinki. Jerman, H. 1997. Between Five Lines: The Development of Ethnicity in Tanzania with Special Reference to Western Bagamoyo District. Nordic Africa Institute, Uppsala. Koponen, J. 1988. People and Production in Late Precolonial Tanzania, History and Structures. Scandinavian Institute of African Studies. Uppsala, Sweden. Maundu P., Berger, D.J., ole Saitabau, C., Nasieku, J., Kipelian, M., Mathenge, S.G., Morimoto, Y. & Höft, R. 2001. Ethnobotany of the Loita Maasai: Towards Community Management of the Forest of the Lost Child Experiences from the Loita Ethnobotany Project. People and plants working paper 8. UNESCO, Paris.


Mwihomeke, S., Msangi, T. & Ylhäisi, J. 1997. Quantity, distribution and current status of sacred forests in the Zigua ethnic group, Handeni District. The Arc Journal 6. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Mwihomeke, S., Msangi, T., Mabula, C., Ylhäisi, J. & Mndeme, K. 1998. Traditionally protected forests and nature conservation in the Northern Pare mountains and Handeni District, Tanzania. Journal of Eastern African Natural History 87: 279-290. Nairobi, Kenya. Mwihomeke S., Mabula, C. & Nummelin, M. (2000). Plant species richness in the traditionally protected forests of the Zigua, Handeni District, Tanzania. Silva Carelica 34: 178-193. Joensuu, Finland. Niamir, M. 1990. Traditional woodland management techniques of African pastoralists. Unasylva 160: 4958. Oppen, A. 1992. Land Rights and Their Impact on Individual and Communal Forms of Land Use in the Project Area of the Handeni Integrated Agroforestry Project. Berlin. Sinha, R.K. 1995. Biodiversity Conservation through Faith and Tradition in India: some case studies. Int. J. Sustain. Dev. World Ecol. 2: 278-284. Sluyther, A. 2002. Colonialism and Landscape, Postcolonial Theory and Applications. Rowman & Littlefield publisher, Oxford, UK. Swantz, M-L. 1986. Ritual and symbol in transitional Zaramo society. Scandinavian Institute of African Studies, Uppsala.


URT. 1987. East Africa 1:50 000 (United Republic of Tanzania) Sheet 73/3, sheet SB-37-6. Ministry of Natural Resources and Tourism, Tanzania. URT and MGD. 1979. Tanga Region Handeni black and white aerial photographs July 1979, 1:30 000. The Department of Map and Geodetical Survey, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Ylhäisi, J. 2000. The Significance of the traditional forests and rituals in Tanzania, a case study of Zigua, Gweno and Nyamwezi ethnic groups. In Virtanen, P. and Nummelin, M. (eds.) Forests, chiefs and peasants in Africa: Local management of natural resources in Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Mozambique. Silva Carelica 34: 194-219. Ylhäisi, J. 2003. Forest privatisation and the role of community in forest and nature protection in Tanzania. Environmental Science & Policy 6: 279-290. Ylhäisi, J. 2004. Indigenous forests fragmentation and the significance of ethnic forests for conservation in the North Pare, the Eastern Arc Mountains, Tanzania. Fennia 182: 109-132. Ylhäisi, J. 2006. The Change of Traditionally Protected Forests and Leadership in Zigua Ethnic Group, Tanzania. In: Ylhäisi, J. 2006. Traditionally Protected Forests and Sacred Forests of Zigua and Gweno Ethnic Groups in Tanzania. Publicationes Instituti Geographici Universitas Helsingensis A 139.

JOINT FOREST MANAGEMENT - 62

Empowerment or imposed participation? Different expectations from and practices of Joint Forest Management in the Usambara Mountains, Tanzania

Karin Reuterswärd & Heini Vihemäki Changing ideas and practices in forest conservation Community involvement in protected area management has gradually become a commonly-used strategy in conservation initiatives and programs around the globe since the World Congress on Parks and Protected Areas in Bali in 1982 (Wilshusen et al 2003). Different participatory protection models, such as conservation with development, Joint Forest Management and community conservation gained popularity in the 1980s and 1990s (Campbell 2005) when pilot projects were launched, often within quite limited areas. More recently, there has been a separate, but geographically broader trend towards decentralisation within natural resource management policies. “Institutionalising popular participation” (Ribot 2003) has become common policy strategy for many developing countries. But in many countries there are also historical predecessors to decentralisation efforts. Decentralisation has different forms and practices, but it can refer to any act in which a central government formally gives powers to actors and institutions at the lower levels of a political-administrative and territorial hierarchy (Ribot 2003). The justification for the diverse, people-oriented or “participatory” protected area management strategies as well as the wider decentralisation trends rely on diverse grounds, such as the “failure” of state control and the intent to increase economic efficiency as well as


“social justice” (e.g., Jeanrenaud 1999; Ribot 2003; Campbell 2005). In addition, the ecological outcomes of the previous centralised and authoritarian strategies have been criticised, especially in protected areas. It is also assumed that if local people are involved in the management and conservation of natural resources, they will become more positive towards authorities and state-initiated management structures. Furthermore, there will ideally be increased economic benefits for the local population (as well as for the government) through participatory management. The actual role of the local population, however, may range from one or two representatives of the “community” in a management committee to cases where the local people not only initiate the management, but also develop strategies and rules and hold the juridical and economic control of the resource or area. Nevertheless, debates on the optimal role of the “community” or “local people” in management and protection of forests, other ecosystems or wildlife have not been settled (e.g., Brechin et al 2002; Berkes 2004). Experiences from various locations show that community involvement in conservation and management of natural resources faces several challenges (e.g., Schroeder 1999; Ribot 1999; Enters & Anderson 2001). For instance, publications that champion the role of communities as agents of decentralisation, participation and collective action tend to pay little attention to the heterogeneity of actors within the communities (Nygren 2005). Brechin et al (2002) note that the failure of many participatory conservation projects in achieving conservation objectives has led to the resurgence of the so-called “protection paradigm”, or the authoritarian conservation approach. However, there are also scholars who call for more community involvement in the management and protection of forests and other


natural resources. For instance, Wily and Dewees (2001: 24-25) suggest that the forest-adjacent communities in Tanzania hold enough “custodial interests” to manage forests in a sustainable way; they recommend sharing authority and decision-making powers in forest control. At the same time most data and experiences supporting this argumentation stem from cases where the values of biodiversity or water catchment functions are considered to be relatively low (e.g., in Wily 1999; Wily & Dewees 2001). This makes introducing participatory systems into total protection areas of high conservation status even more complex. However, what is also debatable is whether total protection of such valuable forests is necessary (Reuterswärd, in preparation; see also the end of this section). One of the management models with presently fashionable emphasis on power and cost-benefitsharing between the state and the “local people” or other “stakeholders” is Joint Forest Management (JFM). JFM can be understood not only as a management strategy, with the goal of improving the efficiency of management in order to sustain or preserve the forest, but also as a development policy with the goal of devolving part of the control over forest resources to the communities or to their representatives. However, it is important to keep in mind that the concept was first introduced in forestry, which traditionally emphasises production goals. JFM has thereafter been gradually extended to new areas. It is now increasingly used as a management strategy in conservation and development initiatives as well. In this paper, we will focus on the experiences and prospects of JFM as a way of developing the management of protected forests. The central question is whether the JFM approach has changed (and/or is likely to change) the social and power relations in forest


conservation in terms of distribution of costs and benefits as well as the practices of decision-making. We admit that cost-benefit sharing is a rather limited way to explore these issues. Yet it often dominates these analyses. Our goal is to try and widen this discussion by looking at the potential and actual “benefits” and “costs” of participation from the perspectives of different actors based on a qualitative approach. Thus, we do not approach these questions through conventional economic analysis and production of numerical values, but rather through the ways different parties conceive benefits and costs. We also consider different parties’ experiences and expectations of benefits and costs related to participation in forest management. Furthermore, we examine whether the “empowerment” assumption of JFM, discussed more in the next section, seems to be borne out in practice by analysing how different actors participate, or seek to participate, in forest control. We also use historical contextualisation. Our case study area is the Usambara Mountains in Tanzania, which include areas where JFM has been introduced and other areas where it is planned. We first review the origin of JFM as a concept and briefly examine the history of forest control in the study area. Then we analyse the expectations of local actors, including forest authorities and people living adjacent to the forests in the West Usambaras, and we consider the practices of JFM, mostly in the eastern part of the mountains. The questions addressed include the following: Is JFM accepted as an approach to forest management by different parties and why? How is JFM implemented or planned to be implemented? What are the roles of the different actors (forest staff, village governments, local farmers, national and international “external actors”) in the decision-making over forests and forest-based resources? What are the reasons for


slow progress in JFM processes, and which challenges exist for more equal cost-benefit sharing between the different parties? On the basis of our findings, we argue that JFM as a concept and as a way of developing forest management is still much contested among state actors (e.g., forest authorities), and the procedures have moved forward only slowly. The complex history of relationships among the forest authorities, the villagers and their leaders as well as international actors’ interests all affect the expectations of local actors as well as their levels of interest in participating in conservation initiatives. The expectations and goals of different parties vis-à-vis JFM seem to be incompatible in some respects, even though the goal of conservation is approved by most. It appears that the introduction of JFM in the East Usambaras has not managed to remove totally the characteristics inherent in more “traditional” forms of forest governance, such as uneven distribution of costs and benefits, even though there are many changes in the discourse and practices of forest management. In addition, the processes have depended to a large degree on the existence of external projects and funding. Yet the problem remains of whether it is possible to protect biodiversity (which is one of the official policy goals for the forests at stake) while simultaneously “empowering the people” to participate fully in management and set their own goals for the management. The sensitivity of moist tropical forests to any use at all has been offered as an argument against JFM in these areas. However, it has also been suggested that tropical forests may not be such sensitive eco-systems as was once thought (Lugo 1995). For instance, in the Usambaras, long-term human use of the forests during the last 2000 years is likely to have played a role for present species composition and other biological factors now valued


(Rodgers 1993, Conte 2004, Reuterswärd in preparation). We do not intend, however, to address this complex question in the scope of the present paper.

Joint Forest Management: Background and aspects of power The origin of Joint Forest Management JFM as a concept has its historical roots in Asia and in “social forestry”. Thus, it can be considered originally a non-Western model. In India, social forestry was introduced in the 1970s in the wake of conflicts between states that were responsible for forest management at the time and activists who accused the state forestry agencies of working against the needs of the poor and socially disadvantaged in Indian society (Rangan & Lane 2001). The term “social forestry” was first used in the 1970s to denote forestry on village land, in contrast to land controlled by the Forest Departments (Hobley 1996, Khare et al 2000). In the 1980s “social forestry” developed into an “umbrella term for individual farm forestry, for communal village planting and in some places for forest management by villagers” (Hobley 1996: 16). In 1988 the National Forest Policy of India emphasised the participation of local people in the management and protection of forests (Hobley 1996: 59); a few years later the Indian Central government made all state governments responsible for implementing “joint forest management” systems to regenerate forests and also reduce rural poverty (GoI 1990, ref. in Kumar 2002: 765). The Joint Forest Management approach was


initially developed with support from the Ford Foundation in India (Hobley 1996: 217-219). It was taken up by a variety of bilateral agencies in India and later adopted by other international development agencies and NGOs in many other areas. Subsequently, it has been introduced into regions as disparate as western Canada, northern California, Sri Lanka, Thailand, and parts of western and southern Africa (Rangan & Lane 2001) – as well as to eastern Africa, e.g., it appears in Tanzania’s new forest policy (National Forest Policy 1998), which is discussed in more detail below. Joint Forest Management as a tool for increasing state control? Or “empowering” the communities? JFM has been defined in several ways depending on the context. Kumar (2002: 764) claims that in India, “JFM is meant to reduce forest degradation while at the same time offering benefits of forest regeneration to households that belong to a Village Forest Committee (VFC) in order to reduce rural poverty”. This definition derives from a context in which forest utilisation is an option. Pattnaik and Dutta (1997: 3225, cited in Woodcock 2002: 11) suggest that in JFM the owner (the government) and the user (the communities) manage the forests jointly and share the costs and benefits. In this paper, JFM is understood in a wide sense to refer to those management options in which the management responsibility and powers are, to some extent, shared between the government and other actors such as communities or their representatives. We discuss JFM in the context of biodiversity and forest conservation, where the scope of utilisation is usually very limited. Such limited scope of utilisation is also the case in the Usambara Mountains, where conservation


of biodiversity and of water catchment capabilities is the main policy goal in government forest reserves. However, we realise that JFM has also become part of the broader decentralisation policy in Tanzania. But does JFM “work” in terms of improving the efficiency of management through more equal distribution of costs and benefits of forest management or conservation as well as in including local actors in the decision-making processes? It is important to note that the assumption underlying such a question is that by enabling people to participate in forest control and sharing more equally the costs and the benefits, the management system can potentially enhance the acceptance of conservation goals and related institutional forms of control among the community members. In that sense, participation is conceived more as a tool than as an end. Thus, while JFM processes may promote participation, the more or less “hidden agenda” is often to gain acceptance for conservation. However, in the discussion about participation in the field of participatory development and conservation, there are also less instrumental views in which participation is ideally seen as leading to the improved capacity of individuals to affect their lives, and thus is an “empowering process” (Jeanrenaud 1999; Cleaver 2001: 37). Yet the definitions of “participation” and “empowerment” and their relationship are not necessarily outlined clearly in different projects, sector policies or literature. In this sense, both have become buzzwords of development, with different meanings to different people. In this section, we understand “empowerment” as a process through which local people, and especially marginalised groups, are enabled to take more control over their own lives and secure a better livelihood through ownership of productive assets (Brown & Rosando 2000). The concept also entails the idea that


access to the political structures and decision-making procedures is needed to enable people to gain control over natural resources. Economic empowerment is often assumed to take place through political empowerment (Brown & Rosando 2000). This can be achieved through allowing “local people” or their representatives to increase their role in decisionmaking over the resources at stake, e.g., through village-level management committees or regional boards. In this way the people are supposed to gain more control over the local resources, and hence also enhance their opportunities for gaining income from their surroundings through developed or new uses of the resources at stake, be it through agriculture, production, tourism or in other ways. Cost-benefit sharing is partly related to the idea of empowerment, especially to its livelihood aspects, through improved access to income and other assets from natural resources such as forests. Costs and benefits and their relative proportions can be used as a framework to measure or discuss advantages and disadvantages for different actors involved in the management. Conventionally, benefits are divided into tangible benefits (for example, directly quantifiable products) and intangible ones (e.g., values of biodiversity conservation as well as aesthetic and cultural values) (Kumar 2002). Benefits might also include less direct advantages, for example, new job opportunities or other income generating activities for the “local people”. According to Kumar (2002), costs include direct costs (such as establishment costs) and indirect ones (e.g., forest product removal foregone). For example, costs can be expenses to cover guards and equipment for the management area (for authorities and/or villagers). They can also mean prohibited use of resources within it (e.g., for the villagers). However, we do not expect these effects, such as more efficient


management, “empowerment” of locals or more equal benefit-cost sharing to be non-contradictory or even conceptually and politically agreed upon by all actors. We therefore suggest that these processes and their outcomes need to be studied in different contexts and situations. There are cases in which decentralisation of forest management has created more space for social mobilisation and made the conflicts over resources more visible by enabling the previously “invisible” actors to voice their resource claims more openly, especially in Latin America (e.g., Klooster 2000; Nygren 2005). Thus, it is possible that decentralisation and participatory initiatives, such as JFM processes, can enhance the position of “communities” (or their representatives or sub-groups) in decision-making over forest management and make the controlling mechanisms more legitimate for them. This could be interpreted as an example of real “empowerment”. However, these examples tend to be from areas where utilisation is acceptable, whereas in the case of management of protected areas, conservationists often do not regard utilisation as a management option. Kumar (2002) points out that through assuming that each village or group of villages is a homogenous community without distinctions among gender, wealth or status, the distribution of benefits will often strengthen the (village) elite while the poorest will be excluded. By using a modelling approach, he suggests that the JFM regime reflects the social preference of the rural non-poor (village elites), and that the poor are net losers over a 40-year time horizon (ibid.). The problems with representation of different sub-groups within the communities and unequal distribution of benefits are also emphasised by other studies (Campbell et al 1999; Agrawal & Gibson 1999; Conroy et al 2002). The assumption of consensus (within state organisations


and “local communities” respectively) often inherent in different forms of community conservation thinking is thereby problematic as well (e.g., Agrawal & Gibson 1999). In addition, it has been suggested that in JFM, the actual result may not be power sharing, but rather a strengthening of state control over natural resources due to, e.g., the domination of (co)-management committees by government officials (Ylhäisi 2003: 284). Olson (2001: 400) argues that both centralised and decentralised forms of control over natural resources have historically functioned as a means of promoting state interests. Moreover, advocates of indigenous people’s rights claim that national states use different forms of participatory management as a compromise stand, which enables the state to continue controlling the lands that were appropriated from indigenous people (cf. Dzingirai 2003; Borrini-Feyerabend & Tarnowski 2005). Official forest governance structure and JFM in Tanzania All land in Tanzania officially falls into one of three categories; village land that is under the control of the village governments (under which private individuals can “own” pieces of land); general land (under the Commissioner of Land), which in practise is under the District administration, and land in reserves. The state forest policy differentiates among forests of different tenure status. The two main categories of forest consist of reserved (45% of all forests, if village land reserves are excluded) and unreserved forests (Wily & Dewees 2001). Reserved forests are divided into central government forest reserves (National Forest Reserves) and local authority forest reserves under the district governments (Local Government Forest Reserves).


The structure of forest administration in Tanzania is two-fold. The Forest and Beekeeping Department (FBD) under the Ministry of Natural Resources and Tourism (MNRT) provides overall guidance for the forestry sector as well as some technical oversight and supervision. Local governments (under the Ministry of Regional Administration and Local Governance) officially play an important role in forest management as most of the management and protection of forest reserves have been decentralised. In principle, District Forest Officers are now primarily responsible for most forest reserves, except a number of catchment forest reserves that are still mostly under the direct management of FBD – as the majority of forests in the Usambaras. These mountain forests are considered important, e.g., through their functioning as water catchment areas and biodiversity “pools”. Regional bodies (Regional Catchment Forest Offices) and the District Catchment Forest Officers have control over these catchment reserves. However, in some of these government reserves JFM has been introduced in recent years as a part of the Participatory Forest Management policy of Tanzania, although at a slow rate. In 2000, it was estimated that less than 0, 2% of the entire national forest estate was under JFM. The major conceptual change in forest policy took place with the new National Forest Policy (NFP), which was introduced in 1998 to replace the previous policy from 1953. A new forest law was also introduced in 2002. Among its objectives is to promote and facilitate the active participation of people in the planning, management, use and conservation of forests as well as to “...delegate responsibility for management of forest resources to the lowest possible level consistent with the furtherance of national policies” (The Forest Act 2002).


In Tanzania, JFM is defined as a collaborative management approach in which management responsibility and returns are divided between the forest owner (usually the central or local government) and the communities living next to the reserved forest (Blomley 2006). JFM can take place in National Forest Reserves, Local Government Forest Reserves or Private Forest Reserves (National Forestry Policy 1998). The joint management agreements define such things as the rules governing the reserve and “the powers and duties of the persons from a local community appointed to act as guardians of the reserve” (The Forest Act 2002).

Study area and methodology The Usambara Mountains are part of what are called the Eastern Arc Mountains, spread in isolated blocks along East Africa, from southern Kenya to southern Tanzania (figure 1). These mountains are famous, especially among conservationists, for their biodiversity. The Usambaras are located within the Tanga region, and they range from about 400 metres above sea level (m a.s.l.) to more than 2,000 m a.s.l. in the West Usambaras while the East Usambaras reach at most 1,500 m a.s.l. (Iversen 1991). The two blocks are separated by the Lwengera Valley. The vast majority of the inhabitants depend on agriculture for food and cash income. Opportunities for employment are rare in the area, limited mainly to the tea estates and factories in the East Usambaras and administration or service-related employment in places such as Lushoto and Bumbuli in the West Usambaras.


Figure 1. The location of the East and West Usambara Mountains among other Eastern Arc Mountains in Tanzania. (Modified after Hamilton and Bensted-Smith 1989.)

The majority of the inhabitants are Shambaa people, who traditionally populate the slopes of the mountains.


The West Usambara Mountains (WUM, covering about 250,000 ha) are to a large extent covered by agricultural land (Iversen 1991) whereas the East Usambara Mountains (EUM) cover an area of about 130,000 ha, of which about 50% is forested. Nowadays, the forests are considered to be very fragmented in both areas. In both parts of the mountains, most forests are gazetted in central government reserves. The majority of the reserves are under the management authority of the Tanga Catchment Forest Office (TCFO, which is under the FBD) and its sub-offices. Many of the products formerly obtained from the forests (or the substitutes of these products) are now produced on farms (especially in the West Usambaras, but increasingly, in the eastern part as well). The deficit seems to be predominantly in wood products, such as fuel wood and construction materials. The villagers in the study areas often claim that it has become increasingly difficult to obtain permission for cutting trees also on farmland, village forests and other kinds of general land, even for communal uses such as school desks and construction material for school buildings. Methods and study sites The researchers of this study have academic backgrounds in different disciplines: Reuterswärd in geography and biology and Vihemäki in forestry and development studies. Yet this article focuses on social and political aspects of forest conservation and draws on social scientific methodology. Data from the West Usambaras was collected by Reuterswärd during two fieldwork periods using semistructured interviews, participatory rural appraisal (PRA) methods, group discussions, general observations and interviews with key persons as foresters and village


government members. Furthermore, biological inventories were completed both in the forests and on farmlands as well as inventories of human use/impacts. The results shown in this paper mainly originate from the interviews. In 2004, a total of 80 individual interviews were was completed in the two studied villages, and two days of PRA work (one with men and one with women) were held in each village. In 2005, 27 individual interviews were completed, and two days of group discussions were held in each village (this time with a mixture of older men and women one day and younger men and women the next day). Assistants and interpreters have been from the two respective villages as well as from elsewhere. The approach used by Vihemäki in the EUM was based on qualitative social science methods and case studies. Most of the material presented here derives from the first fieldwork period of three months in 2003 when interviews with groups of local women and men living in six villages in the study area were conducted. In addition, individual interviews with villagers, mainly in one village close to the nature reserve, and with village authorities from different villages as well as participatory observation, thematic interviews of forest officials and other experts in various organisations were carried out. Forest walks were conducted in the reserved areas nearby the study villages to observe forest use. The work was carried out with local tour guides as assistants, who often gave detailed information on issues of forest conservation. The second period of fieldwork took place during five months in 2004-2005 and was focused on individual interviews. Material from the second phase is used here mainly to complement some points in the analysis. During the second phase, a case study approach was applied with emphasis on identifying and exploring cases where different interests


towards and ideas about the forest and related natural resources clashed. The study area in the WUM consisted of two villages (Mayo and Sagara) encompassing farmland, forest patches, and settlements and two forest reserves (Mazumbai and Baga II South) bordering each other and the villages (figure 2). Formerly, large parts of the study area were under the governance of a Swiss farmer who donated part of the land (both agricultural land and forest) to a group of former estate workers in Sagara village, and part (the Mazumbai Forest Reserve) to Sokoine University of Agriculture (at the time a faculty under University of Dar es Salaam) in 1969. As for the land given to Sagara, part of it is managed in village forests, although it remains unclear what status these village forests actually have. So far they do not seem to have any official status as village reserves. They consist of village land that has been set aside but can be put into production whenever the village (the group) so decides (except in ways that are regulated by general laws and rules governing logging, etc.). Baga was first gazetted by the German administration in 1913 and then again in 1961. The study areas in the EUM are located around two separate forest areas (figure 2). Five out of six of the study villages are around or within the enclaves of the Amani Nature Reserve (ANR), which has the strictest conservation status of all the reserved forests. The ANR (8,300 ha) consists of old forest reserves enlarged with former agricultural land and unreserved forest. There are specific zones in the reserve with different conservation status: the Biodiversity Preservation Zone (77% of the area), the Nature Restoration Zone (13% of the area), the Local Use Zone (6% of the area) and the Amani Botanical Garden (4% of the area).


Figure 2. The map illustrates the approximate location of the Mazumbai, Baga II South and Sagara Forest Reserves in the West Usambaras (1.) and Amani Nature Reserve (2.) and Manga Forest Reserve (3.) in the East Usambaras. (Modified after Hamilton and Bensted-Smith 1989: 2.)

A Buffer Zone has been established outside the reserved area “…to decrease the dependency of the local communities on the natural resources of the ANR and to contribute to the social and economic development of the communities by involving them in the management of the ANR” (ANR general management plan 1998). The last study village, Kwatango, borders one of the JFM areas, the Manga Forest Reserve, located in the lowlands.


It is important to note that the data originate from two separate research projects; thus, the results cannot be directly compared. Rather our approach is to integrate the results in such a way that the data from each shed light on different stages of the JFM processes. The major limitation of the methodology in both cases arises from the fact that the researchers are “outsiders” to the cultural context and have limited knowledge of the local languages. Reuterswärd has a connection to Sokoine University of Agriculture, which owns one of the reserves in the WUM. In addition, some of the people met in the EUM would suppose that Vihemäki was working for, or otherwise representing, the Finnish Government’s donor agency, which has funded development and conservation projects in the EUM. Furthermore, local people as well as forest officials and other interviewees always have their own agendas when answering questions, and thus the responses needed to be “contextualised” and interpreted critically. In addition, the mixing of people from different social categories in some of the group interviews might have constrained participants from presenting their views openly. Finally, each researcher worked with different assistants and interpreters, increasing the risk of losing information and insights, even though the recording of most of the interviews in the case of the EUM partly helped to overcome this problem. On the other hand, the local assistants aided through providing first-hand information about the area and facilitating the contacts. To summarise, although there are weaknesses in the methods, the results presented here are drawn from a rather extensive material and can be assumed to reflect the situation well enough in demonstrating different actors’ perceptions. We complete our analysis with the findings of other studies


from the Usambara Mountains as well as with our own observations. Historical changes in forest policies and practices in the Usambara Mountains This section briefly examines forest history in the Usambaras since the beginning of colonial rule, although the focus is on more recent changes in the people-state relations in forest control. The purpose is to put the present reforms in their historical context in order to assess whether and how the management practices are changing. During the second half of the nineteenth century, the people and the environment of the Usambaras experienced drastic changes due to political events and economic practises such as the slave trade. The Kilindi dynasty of Shambaa people that had ruled the area for centuries deteriorated along with these changes and internal conflicts (Conte 2004). Germany increased its influence in the area during the 1880s and 1890s, first through commercial agents and later on by establishing a German colony (Koponen 1994; Conte 2004). The forest policy of German East Africa (of which presentday mainland Tanzania was once a part) was a mixture of conservation and exploitation goals (Schabel 1990). It was admitted that environmental deterioration had been caused by colonial projects, but the Africans were seen as the main culprits for forest degradation, thanks to their destructive methods of exploiting nature (Koponen 1994: 528). One of the earliest forest regulations was the “Usambara Forest Ordinance” (1895), which required protection of environmentally sensitive areas for climatic and erosion control (Schabel 1990). The Ordinance illustrates the long history of scientifically-oriented conservation interests in the


study area as well as the process of bringing the environment (and the people) under increased state regulation, although in practice, resources to implement the rules were often scarce. In line with the policy goals, scientific ideas and the colonial imperative of “progress” started to play an important role in shaping the natural environments (Conte 2004: 43). In the Usambara Mountains, the government developed export-oriented agriculture and established plantations for different crops (Hamilton & Bensted-Smith 1989; Iversen 1991). Forest reserves were established by the state forest administration from 1904 onwards, but they were not completely outside commercial exploitation (Koponen 1994: 532). Under German rule, all African settlement, cultivation, grazing and burning were outlawed in designated forest reserves (Neumann 1997). The restrictions on forest use and traditional rights led to frustration and resistance among the African population and, occasionally, in behaviour described as “deplorable indolence” or “passive resistance” by foresters (Schabel 1990: 131). During the British rule of Tanganyika, which corresponds to the mainland of present-day Tanzania, government policies and rulings regarding African rights on land-based resources turned out to be ambiguous and even contradictory (Neumann 1997). There were two major features that directly changed land use and access to forest resources for the local population, namely, the creation and partly reestablishment of state forest reserves and the regulations governing the exploitation of commercially valuable tree species. In the case of the state forest reserves, restrictive rules were again set up to limit access by the local population, although minor uses were allowed on certain conditions (ibid.). Furthermore, native authority


forest reserves (later labelled local authority forest reserves) were established from the early 1930s onwards as a part of the policy of indirect rule (Neumann 1997). The idea was to delegate the responsibility for actual protection of part of the forests to the local people and create a separate system of reserves that would provide for people’s needs; at the same time the state forest reserves would remain under the government’s control (ibid.). This measure can be seen as an early effort to decentralise part of the forest management. In the WUM, several local authority reserves were established, whereas in the EUM all the reserves were probably under the central government (Iversen 1991). According to Conte (2004: 154), the post-colonial forestry policy meant “continued and dramatic biological simplification of natural forests and the increasing exploitation of both natural and plantation forests...” in the Usambara Mountains. In the 1960s, there was a change in land policies as the recently independent nation bestowed upon local authorities the power to distribute forest land to farmers (Conte 2004). Indeed, many of the farmers interviewed in each research project explained that they or their relatives had received their agricultural land from the village authorities in the 1960s or 1970s. In 1972 there was again a decentralisation reform in the government affecting forestry. The effect was to concentrate power in the hands of Regional and District Development Directors who were supervised under the Prime Minister’s Office (Hamilton & Bensted-Smith 1989: 52). Subsequently, the forest department lost control of almost all central government forests (Ahlback 1986 cited in Hamilton & Bensted-Smith 1989). Yet already in 1976, most of the forest reserves in the EUM were categorised as Catchment Forest Reserves, again under the central government, with the


purpose of safeguarding the water catchment value of forests. Hamilton and Bensted-Smith (1989: 52), citing Lundgren (1985), point out that previous decentralisation of forest management had resulted in a “serious loss of forests” in Tanzania, as district officials sought to make quick money by selling tree-felling licenses, which led to this “re-centralisation” effort. From the 1970s, forest-related development initiatives were increasingly conducted with donor support, and the goals were in line with the dominant development ideology of industrialisation and modernisation. For instance, from the end of the 1970s, Finland supported forest inventories and the environmentally destructive activities of Sikh Saw Mills Ltd., which acquired wood from the EUM. Uncontrolled pit-sawing of timber after industrial logging also took place in the forest reserves starting from the early 1980s (Finnida 1985: 3). Later on, international concern for the destruction of natural forests caused a shift in the focus of co-operation towards conservation in the EUM. The IUCN (World Conservation Union, previously the International Union for Conservation of Nature) introduced a so-called “conservation-based rural development” project in the EUM. Their project, called EUCADEP (East Usambara Conservation and Agricultural Development Project) was launched to test a new, more participatory management approach. In the West Usambaras, development and aid programmes such as SECAP (Soil Erosion Control and Agroforestry Project, financed by the German development agency) concentrated mainly on agroforestry and other agricultural practices, including water management and terraces for soil conservation. There were also increasing efforts to halt both legal and illegal logging activities. Formally, industrial logging was stopped in 1987 in the EUM (Roe et al 2002). A temporary moratorium on pit-sawing was


imposed in 1989 in Amani (Stocking & Perkin 1992; Roe et al 2002). However, some foresters claimed during fieldwork in 2005 that the moratorium was never official. Furthermore, no moratorium document could be found, either in the district or in the regional forest offices. Nevertheless, illegal pit-sawing was said to flourish in the following years (Stocking & Perkin 1992; Roe et al 2002). It involved a web of actors, including forest staff at different administrative levels and village authorities (interview with a former project advisor of EUCADEP, 3.6. 2004). The East Usambara Conservation Area Management Programme (EUCAMP, which was previously named East Usambara Catchment Forest Project, EUCFP) worked in the eastern part of the mountains from 1990 until 2002. The project was initially funded by the government of Finland and Tanzania (1990-1997), while in the last phase it was funded also by the EU. The EUCAMP increased the area of reserved forest considerably, and part of the area was “bought” from the local farmers. The approach to conservation of the EUCFP was first rather traditional or “top-down” (Mikkola & Tengnäs 1993) with focus on boundary demarcation and rule enforcement. At a later stage community participation was promoted by various means, such as the initiation of the JFM approach in two forest reserves and the nature reserve. Yet the participatory ideas were not instantly agreed upon by all key actors in forestry administration. For instance, the director of the FBD was critical of participatory forest management in the mid-1990s. Later on, he was suddenly replaced later on, among other reasons, due to donor pressure (interview with a former project advisor of EUCADEP, 3.6. 2004). Furthermore, the new National Forest Policy (NFP, 1998) still viewed the people to some degree as a


threat to the government forest reserves, although it also called for more community involvement: “Government forest reserves, i.e. gazetted forests, are constantly threatened by encroachment and shifting cultivation resulting from a high population pressure” (NFP 1998: 1). Such statements illustrate that there have been (and still are) conflicting conceptions even at the policy level about the role of communities in forest management, and previous views about the relationship between the local people and the forests continue to have some effect. The history of forest control shows that the goals and means of management have varied at different times from conservation to utilisation, and there have been diverse and sometimes conflicting interests between the different actors in the area for a long time. Often “externally” originating ideas about peopleenvironmental relationships as well as social development have tended to play an important role in shaping the official policies and management strategies. Much Usambara forest has officially been under the central government control for a long time, yet in practice, the enforcement of rules and policies has varied. In addition, the involvement of officials and village leaders in illegal activities has possibly weakened the trust in state organisations and their initiatives among some of the local people. The fact that the change in national policies as well as conservation strategies in the EUM during the last two decades has been especially pushed by “outsiders”, and partly dependent on their funding, is one of the likely challenges of sharing the benefits and powers.


Joint management progress and processes in the Usambara Moutains This section discusses the perceptions and expectations of the villagers and foresters (at different levels of the management system) of joint forest management as well as the more general goals of management/conservation. The goal is to illustrate the tensions, but also the shared conceptions of the goals and means of forest management. Furthermore, processes during the introduction of JFM will be reviewed. The section ends with two cases illustrating problems connected to these processes. Due to the shift in forest policies, forest authorities in the West Usambara Mountains (WUM) now say that all reserves should be subject to joint management agreements between responsible authorities and local communities who create by-laws applicable to the distinctive settings for each reserve and community (interview with forest officer 2005). However, this idea of joint management has not yet been fulfilled all over the West Usambaras, since there is not enough money to support the process of developing rules and systems for co-management with the villages. In March 2005, only 2 out of 15 national reserves were under JFM in the WUM, while all 7 district reserves and 12 of 17 village reserves were said to have been included in the new kind of management (the figures are from a District Forest Officer). In the East Usambara Mountains (EUM), two central government reserves (Manga and Mtai) were in the process of becoming JFM areas. In addition, a management model that can be considered JFM was introduced in the Amani Nature Reserve (ANR), the first nature reserve in Tanzania. Its establishment was initiated in the 1980s when the focus of management in the area was


gradually shifting from use towards conservation. However, the reserve was not gazetted until in 1997, under the Catchment Forest Project. The characteristics of the ANR’ s management give reason to include it under the label of JFM, as the 18 villages surrounding the reserve are supposed to participate in the control of forests in the Buffer Zone as well as in the Local Use Zone and to obtain benefits from conservation. Goals of management and use of the forests In the interviews with villagers in the WUM, the dominant view, perhaps surprisingly, was the need to protect the forests from the (local) people. The majority of the respondents believed that the forests needed to be in reserves, since otherwise they would be cut down, either for their wood or in order to transform the forest into farmland. Some believed that a limited use of the forests would be possible, for example, collecting dead wood from the ground, while others claimed that any people entering the forest would harm it. There seemed to be an overall consensus that there should be no logging whatsoever in the forest reserves. However, the consistent result may partly have to do with the researcher’s connection to SUA (managing one of the reserves), or that SUA and other organisations have over a long time, spread the idea of the necessity of protecting forests in reserves. On the other hand, the foresters interviewed in the WUM (from foresters specifically attached to the reserves to people at the district level) differed in their views on forest management. The dominant view was that the forests should be protected from any human impact, a view also reflected to a great extent in the opinions of the local people. However, some of the


foresters showed an ambivalence, saying that if it were possible to control the extent, then limited logging in the (reserved) forests would be a reasonable way to earn income for the administration and possibly also for the villages. The big problem is how to control the use, since foresters mistrust both local people and companies with logging rights to keep to the allowed number of trees when harvesting. The foresters also saw the local people as the main threat to the forests. Participation and involvement of the “local people” The views expressed on participation also differed among the foresters in the WUM. The district and division foresters expressed a desire to include the local people in the forests’ management in accordance with the national forest policy that emphasises joint management as the way forward in forest management and conservation. For instance, one District Forest Officer said that one reason to promote joint management is to decrease the costs, not only of guarding the forests but also of handling any offenders. A former forester from one of the reserves, Mazumbai, on the other hand doubted the people’s interest in taking part in the forest management, claiming that the people struggle merely to survive and do not have time for managing forests. Instead, he advocated giving the people alternative wood sources (such as free seedlings to plant on farmland for their own production of fuel wood and timber). He also suspected that any interest on the villagers’ side in taking part in forest management is a sign of wanting to get something out of the forests. However, the board of Mazumbai includes village representatives, unlike the governmental reserve, Baga. The former forester is also the only management representative that the villagers


mentioned as providing alternative wood sources (through seedlings to plant on farmlands). The relationship between the local people and the Mazumbai Forest is overall a personal one reflecting the physical presence of the forester in the vicinity. According to Kajembe et al (2004: 87), the implementation of JFM is much more advanced in the Amani Nature Reserve in the East Usambaras as compared to other JFM areas in Tanzania, and the achievements so far are encouraging. During the establishment of the reserve, local people were involved through participatory rural appraisal (PRA) conducted in the buffer zone villages. Villagers had the opportunity to express their concerns about the use of the forest; meanwhile, efforts to raise awareness of the environmental values of the forest were carried out by the conservation project. Furthermore, the villagers were also involved in the demarcation of the boundaries of different forest zones as paid labourers, and thus they benefited through temporary employment. However, some of the farmers reported that the compensation for the loss of access and property due to the enlargement of the reserved area was inadequate (Jambiya & Sosovele 2001; author’s fieldwork 2003 and 2005). Moreover, one of the key informants also stated that some of the farmers who had handed over their fields to the nature reserve in the 1990s had later purposefully set them on fire in protest against unfair compensation for the land. These acts can be seen as evidence of hidden resistance typical of conservation initiatives (cf. Neumann 1998). The ANR has a separate management agency responsible for managing the nature reserve, which is directly under the Forestry and Beekeeping Division (FBD). In addition, an advisory board has been created to ensure participation of different “stakeholders” in the reserve’s management. The board consists of


representatives of different organisations and groups, including two representatives of the local communities, representatives of the tea industries, and regional and district administrations. Obviously, the advisory board functioned actively in the beginning, although the former representative of the communities complained about his very limited ability to affect the decisions in practice. However, during the field work it was learned that the board had not met since the election of new members in 2003. According to the reserve authorities, this was due to lack of funds. It was also questionable whether the new representatives of the “local community” represented the diverse social groups of the society well (Vihemäki 2005). In the villages surrounding the ANR, environmental committees (ECs) have been established at the initiative of the conservation projects. These committees are administratively under the village governments and thus the lowest level of the local government. Their duty is to ensure that the buffer zone villages fulfil their role in protecting the forests in the reserve and the buffer zone (ANR General Management Plan 1998). In addition, the representatives of the ECs of the 18 villages have a joint meeting with each other and the ANR staff, where they share experiences and discuss “the way forward” in forest management. This body continued to be active in 2004, when part of its management function was to promote participation of the villagers in controlling illegal mining (see below). However, it was found that the Environmental Committees often faced challenges in taking part in control of the reserved forests in everyday life, e.g., due to lack of material resources. In addition, there were sometimes tensions between the other villagers and the committee members (for instance, in the control of illegal mining in the reserve).


Among the villagers, there were conflicting views on the role of villagers, environmental committees and the forest authorities in protecting the forest reserve. Even though many local people suggested that they were responsible for sustaining the forests, either by themselves or in co-operation with forest authorities, many also said that they did not really see the forests as being their responsibility. The results suggest that not all villagers rely on their village leaders in conservation (or other) issues. In the early years of the project, there were occasions in the East Usambaras when village authorities co-operated with district foresters in the illegal logging of forests (e.g. Mikkola & Tengnäs 1993). Some of the conservation project staff were also accused of having been involved in this type of activity. Overall, participation of villagers in the ANR management seemed in many respects rather superficial, e.g., people were called to meetings to hear about the importance of conservation or to discuss the days for fuel wood collection. In addition, the social differences within the village (or society) affect who participates and how and shape the access to knowledge. Villagers in higher social positions, such as village leaders and village council members, usually knew more about the changes in forest control rules and had participated in workshops related to conservation. Benefit-Cost practices

sharing:

expectations,

principles

and

In the WUM study area, villagers repeatedly mentioned that they hope JFM enterprises would bring job opportunities. These were expected to be either direct, through employment guarding the forests, or indirect,


through such tourist-related services as guided tours. Another standard answer was increased availability of tree seeds/seedlings for planting on individual farmlands. Villagers also hoped for better communications and roads, and some suggested that there could be agreements on rights to collect dead wood or trap animals in the forests. Furthermore, there was mention of income-generating projects, such as creating fishponds. However, these kinds of projects were also anticipated to generate conflict, with some people expected to be jealous of what others obtained in aid and income. As for the cost-sharing part, not much was said, but almost no one was prepared to accept increased costs for the villages. The only exception was in relation to the enhanced village control expected to follow from guard employment with the introduction of JFM. Hence, the increased costs were accepted only in direct relation to improved benefits and then only to a small degree. Among the foresters in the WUM, the view was quite different. They too had expectations for additional employment of guards, but the hope was that the villagers would fill these needs. Tourism was seen as a possible source of income for both villages and forest authorities. The foresters, although they addressed income-generating projects, seemed to be more focused on assigning responsibility and costs for guard duty as well as the juridical handling of illegal activities to the communities. The idea was that when communities entered into joint forest management with, e.g., the district, by-laws would be created in each village – and if anyone broke the law, then the case would be handled in the village court instead of taken to the district level. The cost is thus shifted to the village. This is an understandable hope, due to the financial constraints faced by the administration, but may nevertheless lead to problems for the villages (e.g.,


through increased work loads). Also, the investment funds necessary for establishing tourism as well as for income-generating projects are to a great extent lacking in the forest administration as well as in the villages; hence, even if desired these ideas would be more difficult to put into practice. Lastly, some of the foresters mentioned the possibility of harvesting timber from the reserves on a sustainable basis as a way to create benefits both for the communities and the authorities. However, none of them saw this as a realistic option for the near future due to difficulties in controlling logging. What are the people’s experiences of the benefits of forest conservation? And how much do the expected or actual benefits contribute to improved management efficiency? The assumption that benefits of conservation serve as an “incentive” for people to stop using the forests (or to take part in controlling them) seems to be persistent in the conservation and policy discourse, even though the links between the benefits (such as income-generating activities) and the behavioural change needed to reduce forest use and promote conservation are not well established (e.g., Enters & Anderson 2001). For instance, Kajembe et al (2004) conclude in their study of JFM and communitybased forest management in Tanzania that there is still need for more incentives “…to persuade local communities from degrading or destroying their forest reserves”. In the EUM, the forests have had many kinds of value for the local population for a long time. Some of the things valued by the people are in line with conservation goals. Yet, some of these values are linked to the utilisation of forests (cf. Roe et al 2002). Some of these forest uses are not normally openly admitted, because they are illegal in government forest reserves, e.g., cutting building poles and ropes, hunting, and


trapping animals for wildlife trade (ibid.). Observations in the Local Use Zone and interviews revealed that cutting trees for building poles as well as pit-sawing timber still take place inside the reserve, but the extent of these activities is not known. This implies that the tree-planting programmes have so far not managed to achieve the intended goal of making people totally stop using wood from the reserve, although the programmes have certainly had some effects. People are, however, generally well aware of the local restrictions on forest use, such as the fuel wood collection dates. In some of the interviews and more informal discussions, people referred to their neighbours or other villagers who did not follow the restrictions on forest use as “thieves”. Such villagers were viewed as not understanding the “importance of forests” or not having access to enough resources outside the reserve. One of the reasons for the complaints is the restricted access to trees on village and general lands. The historical ban on logging in Amani (including unreserved land) since the end of the 1980s also affects the situation, although the ban’s status is unclear (see the section on history). For instance, a village chairman in the Amani Division believed the long and complicated process of applying for a timber-harvesting permit caused illegal harvesting. Tourism is officially one of the main means of compensating for the loss of access to forest products for the local people. The 18 villages surrounding the ANR are supposed to get 20% of the reserve’s entry fees and research fees. During the management year 20012002, a total of 1,738,000 Tanzanian shillings (or 99 USD per village) was remitted to 18 villages buffering the ANR. The money from tourism has been very limited so far, and some villagers complained that it did not suffice to compensate for their work. In addition,


some of the local people, especially among elders and women, were not aware of this money at all. During the visit in 2004-2005, several village leaders claimed that they had not been paid for the previous financial year (2003-2004). This “gap” in payments was explained by forest officials as resulting from increased expenses to combat illegal mining. Other income-generating activities that have been promoted around ANR with the EUCAMP support include beekeeping and handicrafts. However, the economic returns from handicrafts for the villagers have so far been low, and it seems that this activity has stopped. In one of the villages the women stated that they had not received any income for their handicrafts. In another case, the beekeeping group was working well in economic terms and producing honey, but there were problems related to village politics. Some villagers were discontent because they thought that the benefits were being accrued by a small group of villagers. The timing of the first fieldwork, about one and a half years after the end of the EUCAMP support, also likely contributed considerably to the results, because the funds for many activities had suddenly decreased. However, despite the problems in implementing projects and the benefit sharing of income-generating activities, many of the people who were members of the environmental committees or the village governments or who were otherwise knowledgeable about forest conservation projects, stated that economic returns from the ANR were important incentives for looking after the forests. Thus, attitudes towards conservation were in many cases positive, although often linked to expectations of benefits in terms of funding or job opportunities. At the same time, among many village leaders there were still suspicions of reserve authorities, especially during the second period of fieldwork (2004-2005). In addition, positive attitudes


towards management goals do not guarantee that the actions regarding forest use and control will be in line with conservation goals if the modes of control are not seen as legitimate. Controlling resources on local and national bases Initially, it sounds encouraging that government officials at different levels talk about promoting the participation of “communities” in forest control, but what are their arguments for it? The district and division forest officers emphasised the need for and possibility of decreasing the costs for the forestry administration by involving the local communities. The idea was to “befriend” the people by involving them in the processes. However, this involvement as planned was to be quite superficial insofar as the direct influence on management practices is concerned. Instead, it was focused more on passing on some costs to the communities while keeping or even strengthening the government control over the forests. The importance of holding on to control of forest resources can be seen in a comparison between the two villages studied in the WUM, where there is a difference between the two regarding the tasks they are interested in performing within the management of government reserves. Mayo (which has very little village-controlled forest) is dominated by people who want to take an active part both in the decision-making process and in specific tasks (which are mainly expected to be guarding against illegal use and guiding tourists) related to the governmental forest reserves. In Sagara (which has more village forest) a larger percentage of villagers said that they preferred to leave the management decisions to experts, but would like job opportunities as guards and tourist guides. Regardless


of the village, those who want to be active in the management of the governmental reserves saw the role as a way to grasp control of their local resources and to earn income (either for the village or for individuals working with the management). In addition, experienced or anticipated corruption at all levels makes the villagers want to have some influence on the control of forests (see the section on the Sagara village forest below). Presently, the villagers in the WUM cannot legally use any resources from the reserves (except for water coming out of the reserves, and in some cases being furrowed from inside the reserve to the farmland). Furthermore, the use of “natural” (indigenous) trees on farmland is limited. It is forbidden to cut natural trees or parts of them without permission from the forest authorities. Hence, even if most villagers insist that they do not want to change the rules or the management practices of the reserves, they still want to be part of the decision-making processes – especially for forest-related resources on their own land, but also to some extent in the reserves. As part of the management strategy, the village governments are also supposed to have their own bylaws. This would make the offences more “fair” to the villagers or any other people who illegally use forest areas under the management responsibility of the villages, because the village governments can adjust the sanctions to fit the income level of the people better. Such a strategy could also be perceived as a mean to “empower” the village governments to control the use of resources more directly. Nevertheless, the district authorities had not officially approved the by-laws of several villages connected to the ANR (Amani Nature Reserve) in the EUM at the time the first fieldwork was undertaken. It appeared that different villages had different practices for dealing with illegal activities. For


instance, in one study village, the EC secretary stated that he was “leading the decision-making over how the rule-breaker would be charged or punished” (Interview with an EC secretary in the Amani Division, October 2003). Yet in many cases, the village leaders argued that they had not yet used the by-laws. On the other hand, the Conservator (November 2003, Amani) suggested that the village governments use the “customary laws” to punish rule-breakers, and thus the lack of official by-laws would not be such a big problem in forest control. Furthermore, during the last visit (2004-2005), there had been recent instances when illegally-cut timber on the general or village land was confiscated by the reserve staff. Yet these areas are supposed to be under the control of village governments and the districts. Thus, at the same time as the decentralisation processes have taken place, there has apparently been an effort to centralise the control of forests and people by actors representing the central government. Changes in the wider socio-economic and political environment also play a role in the way joint management is put into practice, as shown by the case of mining in the Usambaras. Gold mining of alluvial deposits started in the East Usambaras at the end of 2003 after gold had been found in the village of Sakale. Later on, mining also started in the West Usambaras. Many locals as well as outsiders started to prospect for gold on village lands, especially in valley bottoms and along the streams (Newmark et al 2003; Doggart et al 2004; field data from the EUM). In the course of time, people also started to mine inside the ANR and in some of the other reserves, leading to disturbances in forest eco-systems (ibid.). It is evident that the institutional control through existing laws, the ANR rules, patrolling by the ANR staff and the villagers was not strong enough to protect the forest from severe disturbances.


Based on interviews and observations in the study area in 2005, the control of mining had not been very effective, especially in the beginning, even though some of the district and regional officials claimed that the situation was “under control”. For instance, in one of the study villages, the chairman of the environmental committee started mining gold on his own land at the beginning of the “gold rush” in October 2003. The mining was still going on in the unreserved land as well as in the reserve during the visit in 2004-2005, although at a much lower intensity than in 2003. Part of this is explained by the conflicting interests in mining among the different groups of local people as well as by government authorities (Vihemäki 2005). In the longer view, it is worth noting that none of the foresters interviewed in the WUM expressed any interest in involving local people in discussing local knowledge of the forests and its implications for management, although one of the foresters did acknowledge local people’s systematic knowledge, e.g., in identifying species. There is thus a risk of losing potential local knowledge of management. With most of the forests in reserves for decades, managed by professionals, and with a no-entry policy for local people, the forest system and its processes will be more or less “invisible” to the villagers. Although the forest is there, the understanding of it will decrease and the local people risk becoming even more marginalised in managing the forest. The Sagara village forest and resistance to powersharing The Sagara village is situated in the interior of the WUM, south of the larger village of Mgwashi. A group of former estate workers at a tea estate (Mazumbai)


received the land, both forest and farmland, from a Swiss owner. Forming the Sagara Group Ltd., they distributed the farmland among themselves. The village forests of Sagara (80 ha) are managed by the group through a committee. Some villagers are occasionally paid by the village council to supervise the forest, but not on any regular or full-time basis. The rules for the village forests are similar to those for the reserves. An NGO, the Tanzania Forest Conservation Group (TFCG), has assisted the Sagara Group members (at their request) in developing a strategy for the management of the forest. The leaders of the Sagara group forest are not willing to give any control over the forests to the district authorities in a joint management enterprise. It is clear that the villagers are proud of their forests, and although there is some illegal use and formerly there was organised logging, the present plan is to mimic the rules of the governmental reserves, while keeping the control at the village level. This plan was probably also influenced by the TFCG, which has played an active role as advisor and facilitator in the development of the regulations for Sagara’s community forest. Claims of corruption (or other “non-transparent” practices) among the foresters is one reason the villagers wish to keep the responsibility for management. An assistant to the Division Forest Officer, for instance, logged parts of one of the Sagara Group forests to obtain more farmland for his family. The village leaders brought the case to the district court, but they are pessimistic about whether it will be dealt with in a transparent way. At the time of the fieldwork in 2005, the assistant forester had been released on bail, and the trial had been delayed several times. Villagers also expressed suspicions of government foresters being corrupt. Despite the fact that corrupt practices are hard to verify, the interviews


and informal discussions with different actors involved in forest control (by both researchers) gave reason to assume that such practices are real. The District court case also illustrates how decentralisation of forest management is potentially able to “empower” some groups or individuals among the villagers, as it had led to social mobilisation. Yet the more structural problems in the forest administration and the legal system, such as the slow pace of legal processes and corrupt practices, are obviously a challenge for this kind of “democratisation” processes. As Robbins (2000) has shown in an Indian context, corruption is often deeply rooted in existing institutions, and the poorer members of society also normally participate in it in some way. JFM process in the Manga Forest The Manga Forest (1,635 ha) is one of the few reserves where Joint Forest Management has been introduced in the EUM. The reserve was originally established in 1955. The EUCAMP introduced JFM by organising planning workshops and facilitating the process. The process included the demarcation of village forest management areas that defined the patches managed by the three villages adjacent to the forest as well as agreeing on the rules of management with the three villages (Veltheim & Kijazi 2002). In the study village bordering Manga, the villagers were generally aware of the rules and restrictions regarding the forests, although they were not necessarily familiar with the details of JFM as a concept. The three villages’ representatives had agreed that they would receive 40% of the benefits from the forests, such as the money from confiscated timber. However, the JFM process had not proceeded after cessation of the project support at the time of the first


fieldwork, and it had not officially been put into practice by the end of 2003. There had been some cases of illegal use on both forest reserve and public land in 2003, thus implying that the control was not yet exercised as planned and the rules were not respected by all. According to a village leader, many villagers were suspicious of the motives of the central government, because it had not approved and implemented the plans. A field forest officer working in the area suggested that people used to participate in the process of planning the management system because they benefited from it (through small tips they got from the project). After the phase-out, these “incentives” also ended, and people became less active. In addition, some forest officials (both at the district and the regional levels) claimed, during the 2005 visit, that certain people living in the area were involved in illegal logging and/or transporting of illegal timber from another forest reserve nearby. Thus, the introduction of the concept of JFM (and related awareness-raising) has not managed to change the fact that the natural forests still provide a source of income for some groups, and logging is obviously taking place illegally in some of the forest reserves. Some forest officials even suspected that members of the forest or natural resource committees were involved in illegal logging. The regional forest authorities stated that the reason for slow progress in implementing JFM is in the central government or the fact that the regulations of the new forest law were not yet approved. The representative of the central government claimed that the regional forest authorities have not been active enough in putting pressure on the higher level of the FBD to finalise the process, because similar initiatives had been completed in other parts of Tanzania. It appeared that the agreement was returned to the


regional catchment forest office from the national level authorities at the end of 2003, unsigned but without indication of what changes would be required to make the plans acceptable (personal communication with a Finnish researcher working in the area, October 2005). It is clear that the forest authorities will lose some power over the resource control and the central government will lose some returns from the forests when or if the plans are approved, and this might be one reason for the slow proceedings. Furthermore, Blomley (2006) states that no standardised JFM costbenefit sharing ratios have been agreed upon or promulgated nationally so far. The resistance within the central Tanzanian government to revenue sharing can be partly explained by the plans to turn FBD into a self-financing semi-autonomous agency (ibid.). In addition to possible economic reasons, some of the forestry staff was suspicious about the participatory concept, and thus there appears to be resistance to the dominant discourse within the state agencies. As an FBD official at the regional forest office stated (24.9.2003, Tanga): “From the analytical point of view, I am saying that this is a western driven idea and it will not work… I am sceptical, very clearly, because it is as if people are looking at it [participation] as a magic wand to mitigate all conservation challenges, which is a nightmare.” In 2005, however, the JFM process had started again, after additional donor funding had been allocated for participatory activities started by the EUCAMP. This case also indicates that there is often substantial dependency on donor support in implementing the policies of participatory forest management, including JFM. It appears that JFM is often on the “agenda” of representatives of donor agencies and conservation or other NGOs, while it is


not necessarily always in the interest of the actors within the state agencies. Concluding discussion In short, expectations about the costs and benefits and objectives of decision-making and control for joint management seem to differ between the representatives of the communities and the forest authorities at different levels, even sometimes to the point of being directly contradictory. This increases the risk for conflicts when/if the implementation of JFM is started in new areas. However, it is also important to note that local ideas about JFM and willingness to take control over forests vary among different villages even within a geographically rather small area as well as within villages themselves. The risk of conflict between authorities on the one hand and communities on the other is greatest when it comes to cost-benefit sharing and control of resources. The complex history of relationships among the forest authorities, the “communities” (and different groups within them) and the representatives of donor and conservation interests also seems to pose challenges to the implementation of the JFM approach, such as past injustices related to forest governance and the “alienation” of the people from the decision-making over and management of the forests. We view cost-benefit sharing as one of the key factors affecting the outcomes of the JFM processes, but we also argue that focus on costs and benefits especially in strictly economic terms can mask more fundamental problems in forest conservation. Naturally, people in the communities close to the forests are more interested in sharing the benefits of conservation activities, while the authorities tend to


focus on how to share the costs. Villagers are often more interested in getting jobs or other “tangible” benefits than in increasing their role in decisionmaking over management, although there are differences among the villages. Yet there seems to be little scope for fulfilling the communities’ expectations of substantially increasing income through joint management of strictly protected forests, at least in the near future. Given the limited income from tourism, handicrafts, beekeeping and employments as guides or guards, income generation is still of minor importance for the population as a whole, although it might make a difference to some individuals. In addition, cost-benefit sharing is often discussed in a narrow sense, e.g., how the government should compensate villagers for their involvement in management activities. However, it is also important to keep in mind that the objective of biodiversity conservation often originates at the international level and has been advocated by representatives of so-called Northern countries. This attitude is increasingly regarded as a new form of colonialism – for example, through continued nature/biodiversity conservation with its roots in colonial empires and with aims and objectives set at the international level, often by former colonial powers (Adams 2003; Langton 2003). The rhetoric revolves around saving the environment (e.g., the biodiversity and sensitive eco-systems) through “Western” control of the tropics justified by “our” greater knowledge and for global humanitarian interests (Agrawal 1997). Thus, the cost-sharing between international actors (global conservation organisations and the governments of the richer countries) and the “poor countries” and their societies is another focal issue. Furthermore, there are other reasons that make it difficult to devolve the powers of forest control onto the


people living close to the forests and the village governments, which may be even more important to be addressed if joint management is to “work” and be made more inclusive of the needs of different social groups, including the poor. In the implementation of JFM, authoritarian leadership at all levels of government may lead to difficulties when representatives at lower hierarchical levels are supposed to influence forest management. Or the representatives may stand for very limited interests. Despite the spreading rhetoric of sharing power over natural resource management and conservation, in many cases the central authorities continue to retain key aspects of management authority, which often means controlling profitable opportunities (cf. Shackleton et al 2002). Moreover, corruption and other ways of obtaining advantages from a non-transparent system, where, e.g., knowledge about available revenues is better among village leaders than among “common villagers”, present potential (and real) obstacles that may endanger the success of the approach. The distrust of village leaders or forest authorities among the local people is a related problem. It was also found that at least some of the villagers still saw forest control mainly as the job of the foresters (or village authorities); and the villagers themselves were not actively participating in the control of protected areas, although there were exceptions and the situation was gradually beginning to change. The different results of the present study regarding the “success of JFM” as a management option in comparison to Kajembe et al (2004) can be explained at least partly by the fact that the fieldwork for their study was made in 2001, when project support and funding were in place and more activities could be carried out (and more benefits shared). It also appears that costbenefit sharing (and thus also forest control) become


problematic when production is not seen as an option, as is the case with forests of high biodiversity value. Initially, utilisation of some of the forest products is part of the ideological reasoning of the JFM concept, and this perhaps partly explains the “failures” of its use as well as the difficulties in its introduction in the study areas where the forests are, to a large extent, protected areas with very limited use options. We conclude that, in the case study areas, JFM is presently either not implemented or is not evolving in line with the ideals expressed in much of the literature. In policy documents JFM is presented as a way of sharing decision-making power over forests as well as sharing the benefits and costs of management more equally among the stakeholders. Whereas the rhetoric of participation has spread widely, present management practices do not exclude characteristics of the former authoritarian conservation approach, which often meets with different forms of resistance; the practices tend to change slowly. Different objectives regarding participation between the parties involved are also evident. It appears that participation is promoted on the government’s side for reasons other than real “empowerment” of communities to manage the resources in a sustainable way. It is practised more to reduce costs and to justify conservation objectives, as well as to fulfil the demands of donor countries and institutions. We also suggest that there is a need to build relationships of trust among the actors in order to facilitate acceptance of forest control among the local population, and at the same time address the more structural problems in forest administration (e.g., authoritarian leadership, poor salaries) and in the distribution of benefits and costs. This process is likely to require a long time span and adequate resources,


not easy to achieve in the scope of relatively short and spatially limited projects.

Acknowledgements We would like to thank all those whom we interviewed as well as research assistants and translators for their valuable contribution to our projects. We are very grateful for comments and insights from Prof. George Kajembe and other SUA staff as well as from our supervisors and colleagues at the IDS (University of Helsinki) and the Department of Human Geography (Stockholm University). Special thanks to the original editor of the book, Jussi Raumolin, and the reviewer of this paper for their comments. The funding for the research projects has been provided by the Nordic Africa Institute, the Finnish Graduate School in Development Studies, the Swedish Research Council, the Swedish International Development Agency, and by grants from scholarship funds at Stockholm University and the Swedish House of Nobility.

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APICULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT - 119

The Possibilities and Constraints of Improving Livelihoods through Apicultural Development in Ranomafana National Park in Madagascar

Joni Valkila Poverty, Environment, Protected Areas and Apiculture Several protected areas were established in Madagascar during the 1980s and 1990s to protect the country’s unique natural life. These conservation efforts have been driven and financed to a large degree by international institutions such as the World Bank, WWF, USAID, UNESCO and UNDP. The protected areas are often inhabited by people whose livelihoods depend to a great extent on natural resources within these parks. This has created conflicts between people and nature conservation (Ghimire 1991; Harper 2002; Neumann 1997; Wright & Andriamihaja 2002). When conservation limits people’s possibilities to use forest products, the legitimacy of conservation is questioned and the issue of alternative sources of livelihood is raised. In the context of contested land rights and access to natural resources, beekeeping is a source of livelihood that is worth studying, because practically no land and very little natural resources are needed in beekeeping. The purpose of this article is to understand the possibilities and constraints of apicultural development in alleviating poverty and in protecting the environment in Ranomafana National Park in Madagascar (figure 1).


Figure 1. Protected areas and major towns in Madagascar (map by Anu Lappalainen and Joona Lehtomäki).


Nature evolved in Madagascar in isolation from continents for millions of years. As a result, according to some estimates up to 90 percent of the island’s flora and fauna is endemic (Mobot 2003; Pullin 2002:209). Despite Madagascar’s proximity to Africa, where humans originated, the island was one of the last places on earth to be inhabited by people 1500–2000 years ago. As elsewhere in the world and especially on islands, human inhabitation led to extinction of several species, notably among the larger mammals and birds (Brown 2000). The ongoing loss of species in Madagascar is closely connected with the loss of habitats, mostly forests. Because of deforestation Madagascar has been classified by biologists as one of the world’s biodiversity "hot spots", where biodiversity is at the greatest risk (Hannah et al 1998). Reasons for past deforestation include the extensive nature of traditional slash-andburn agriculture and French colonial advocacy of forest conversion for plantation agriculture and cash-crops. Colonial policies also increased pressures on forests as people fled to forests to avoid taxes in the form of forced labour (Jarosz 1993; Kull 2002; Oxby 1985).

Needs of People vs. Needs of Conservation? In the late 1980s, Madagascar was in debt crisis and in desperate need of external aid. At the same time, there was a growing concern for global environmental problems such as destruction of rainforests, global warming, and loss of biodiversity. Environmental protection became one of the most important funding priorities for global donors and international financial institutions. As biologically extremely diverse and one


of the poorest countries Madagascar drew the attention of international financial institutions and donors, which saw a need for international intervention in protecting the island’s unique nature. Madagascar also became a location where these organizations could demonstrate their commitment to environmental protection. Because of its serious debt crisis, the government of Madagascar was more than willing to participate in debt for nature swaps. As a result, donors and international NGOs have been involved in creating and running state-owned national parks in Madagascar in an unusually high involvement in the state sector (Duffy 2006; Ghimire 1991). During the 1980s and 1990s several Integrated Conservation and Development Programs (ICDPs) were started with the aim of compensating to local residents the economical losses caused by conservation (Brechin et al 2002; Colchester 2003; Peters 1998). According to several social scientists working on the field of protected area management, governments and conservation organizations around the world have undertaken interventions in the name of nature protection that have had significant negative social impacts (e.g. Brechin et al 2002; Colchester 2003; Ghimire 1991; Neumann 1997; Wilshusen et al 2002). On the other hand, several conservation biologists have recently called for more extreme measures to ensure biodiversity conservation in the name of its dire urgency (e.g. Terborgh 1999). In Madagascar, Wright and Andriamihaja have suggested increasing patrolling along Ranomafana National Park’s boundaries as a solution to the problem of local residents using resources inside the protected area (Wright & Andriamihaja 2002). According to the proponents of the resurgent “protection paradigm”, the question of biodiversity conservation ultimately boils down to the question of


habitat: how much for humans and how much for nature? The proponents of the protection paradigm point to the failures of ICDPs and argue that the resources of nature conservation should not be spent on social programs, economic incentives to protect environment and compensation of opportunity costs, because there is little evidence that they advance the goals of conservation (Terborgh 1999:17–20). The critics of the protection paradigm (Brechin et al 2002; Neumann 1997; Wilshusen et al 2002) have stressed the importance of conservation’s moral justification, social and political feasibility and legitimacy to ensure that long term goals of conservation are reached. If conservation is not considered legitimate, law enforcement will create resentment toward conservation and protected resources may be used when the first opportunity arises. As far as the failures of ICDPs are concerned, it has been suggested that the problem has been the implementation rather than the concept. It seems that many ICDPs were not designed to bring development, but to “buy” conservation from local people. The ICDP in Ranomafana National Park has been criticized as expensive and offering poor local people very little (Korhonen 2005; Peters 1998). At the fifth World Parks Congress in Durban in September 2003 “the international conservation community” acknowledged that local people play a vital role in conservation and urged for conservation measures that do not impoverish them. The congress was attended by the president of Madagascar, Marc Ravalomanana, who committed to increasing the area of protected areas in Madagascar from 1.7 million to six million hectares over the next five years. Approximately 10% of Madagascar’s territory would be protected by the year 2008. At the same time the United Nations has set as its goal reducing to half the proportion of people


living on less than a dollar a day by the year 2015. Madagascar is facing the challenge of reducing poverty and increasing nature conservation in a context where poor rural people depend directly on resources from nature. (IUCN 2003; One World 2003). In a situation where forests should be both protected and utilized to provide income, attention is turned to activities where these can be combined. In developing world two major possibilities are forest products and tourism. Cash crops such as cocoa, coffee and vanilla can be produced in forests or agro-forestry systems that closely resemble forests. A problem with these crops from the point of view of producers is that their prices are extremely volatile in world markets and high volumes and good quality are required before international markets can be reached (Bright & Sarin 2003; Charveriat 2001; FAO 2003). “Ecotourism” is often suggested as a means of bringing economical benefits of conservation to people living in or near protected areas. Tourism can be part of the solution, but it is a volatile industry that is susceptible to changes in world economy and political upheavals as was indicated by the political crisis in Madagascar in 2002, which brought tourism to a standstill. Large scale tourism has adverse environmental impacts both globally and locally. Until now tourism has brought benefits to relatively few residents in the buffer zone of Ranomafana National Park (Korhonen 2005).


Theoretical Framework: Sustainable Livelihoods Approach Sustainable livelihoods approach (SLA) is a framework for understanding the livelihoods of people, particularly poor people living in the rural areas of developing countries. Sustainable livelihoods approach has its roots in the works of Robert Chambers during the mid1980s. It was further developed by Chambers and Conway in the early 1990s and it has since gained popularity among development researchers and practitioners. United Kingdom’s Department for International Development (DFID) is a proponent of its application in development interventions (Chambers 1983; Chambers & Conway 1991; DFID 2003; Scoones 1998). Sustainable livelihoods approach is related to the concept of sustainable development. Its roots are in the 1970s when it was called “ecodevelopment”, in 1972 UN Conference on the Human Environment in Stockholm, World Conservation Strategy 1980, and the work of World Commission on Environment and Development or so called Brundtland’s commission in the 1980s (World Commission on Environment and Development 1987). The idea of sustainable development is that development must be achieved without undermining the possibilities of future generations to have a similar access to natural resources as the present generation does. Sustainable development is a compromise that suggests that environmental sustainability and human economic development are compatible, attainable and inseparable. It suggests that it is possible to have a “win-win” situation where both development and environmental protection are achievable. According to more radical views sustainable development should be more “ecocentric” i.e. preservation of nature should be above other goals such as economic growth (Overton &


Scheyvens 1999; World Commission on Environment and Development 1987). Sustainable development has been criticized to mean a de facto recognition that rural poverty in developing countries is not going to go away. All people will not be brought to the comfortable levels of affluent classes. Therefore “they” must adapt to their circumstances in ways that are not ecologically, economically or politically disruptive. The rural poor must learn to use solar cookers instead of nuclear or fossil fuel energy and organic compost instead of chemical fertilizers. “They” must do this in rural areas so that “they” do not overcrowd cities. This has to be done, because the world’s natural resources are not believed to be sufficient for the populations of both developed and developing countries to lead affluent lifestyles. According to some views also the wealthy must reduce their standard of living in order to achieve sustainable level of resource use (Kearney 1996). The concept of sustainable development can be criticized for vagueness. There is no clear definition of what sustainable development is or how it can be put into action or measured. Because no criteria exist to what constitutes sustainable development, almost anything can be called sustainable development. Despite the vagueness of the concept, most researchers agree that poverty is a serious problem in large areas of the developing world and that environmental damage is both a consequence and a cause of poverty in many areas. Instead of undertaking the impossible task of defining what exactly sustainable development is, it may be more beneficial to study ways of reducing poverty and weighing the short and long term costs and benefits of various activities to environment (Overton & Scheyvens 1999). The following definition of a sustainable livelihood has been adapted from Chambers and Conway (1992):


A livelihood comprises the capabilities, assets (including both material and social resources) and activities required for a means of living. A livelihood is sustainable when it can cope with and recover from stresses and shocks and maintain or enhance its capabilities and assets both now and in the future, while not undermining the natural resource base. By taking advantage of small opportunities, such as beekeeping, poor people may be able to accumulate assets that move them out or keep them out of poverty. On the other hand activities such as beekeeping can also be poverty traps, if they are unprofitable and keep people from more profitable activities (FAO 2002). Sustainable livelihoods approach provides a framework for development interventions in analyzing the local strengths and opportunities that could be supported to improve livelihoods and the associated weaknesses, which may hinder reaching development goals. Sustainable livelihoods framework is presented in Appendix 3. It does not attempt to provide an exact or rigid representation of reality, but a framework which can help to understand the circumstances of the rural poor people in developing countries and the various factors that play a role in their livelihoods. Starting from the left, the framework has a context of vulnerability. This refers to trends, shocks and seasonality that people generally have little or no control over and that often have adverse effects on their livelihoods and whose outcome can make a difference between survival and starvation. It is common for people living in poor conditions to be vulnerable to shocks, which can push them to (or keep them in) a vicious circle of poverty. As an example, because of an illness, people may have a reduced ability to work, which may lead to lack of food, leading to poor health (DFID 2003).


Trends, shocks and seasonality that affect poor people in rural areas of developing countries include natural hazards, market fluctuations, conflicts and state actions. Shocks caused by climate such as draught or cyclones are often greater in their impact in tropical and sub-tropical than temperate areas of the world. Additionally, developing countries are less capable of helping victims of extreme weather. Other “natural hazards” that are often exacerbated by human activity include declining yields on poor soils, human or animal illness, such as the arrival of a new bee disease, and pests. Markets provide both opportunities and pressures for poor people that are engaged in agricultural production in a developing country. Engagement in markets can lead to higher standard of living, but at the same time producers are exposed to possibilities of adverse price trends and unequal market power. Markets for agricultural products are typically heavily regulated in industrial countries. This has impact on markets of agricultural products in developing countries which often do not have similar power to regulate markets of agricultural products. These markets are complicated by the fact that there is a lengthy lag between a decision to produce and the point of sales. Prices at the time of sales are not known when decisions to produce are made. Many tropical crops such as coffee and cocoa require several years between planting and first harvest. Beekeeping in a developing country typically requires a minimum of two to three years of work between acquiring first bee colonies and expanding production to 10 or more colonies. The effects of market fluctuations are exacerbated when markets do not work well and information on markets is limited (Ellis 1993).


Markets for poor households have characteristics that are very different from markets in industrial countries. A manifestation of this is the importance of non-market or reciprocal transactions between rural households. This refers to exchanges that are culturally defined and are not valued by market prices. This reciprocity may involve social norms of sharing and redistribution, which ensures that all members of the community survive irrespective of year to year productive performance of individual households (Ellis 1993). Beekeepers are affected by seasonality: honey yields typically vary greatly from one year to another depending on weather conditions, which either enable or prevent bees from collecting nectar efficiently during important flowering seasons (Moritz & Southwick 1992). Livelihood assets are the heart of the framework. Assets are various capitals that people take advantage of to secure their livelihoods. These include the following capitals that are represented in the asset pentagon: human, social, natural, physical and financial capitals. As an example, beekeeping requires human capital such as skills, knowledge, health, strength and marketing expertise. Social capital needed in beekeeping includes help from families, friends and networks of people in learning beekeeping, practicing it and marketing bee products. Natural capital needed in beekeeping includes bees, plants and water (Bradbear et al 2002). Physical capital needed in beekeeping includes tools, beekeeping equipment, transportation, roads, clean water, energy and buildings where bee products can be processed and stored. Financial capital includes savings and access to credit or grants to invest in beekeeping. Poor people rarely have a great deal of financial capital to invest in beekeeping, but that is not always necessary, because it is possible to practice


beekeeping with small investments. Beekeeping not only requires the above mentioned capitals, but ideally builds them: it creates human capital by increasing knowledge and skills of beekeeping, it can create financial capital by providing income, it can create social capital when beekeepers work together to improve their livelihood, and it can create natural capital by increasing yields of both cultivated and wild plants through improved pollination (Bradbear et al 2002). Transforming structures and processes within the livelihoods framework refer to institutions, organisations, policies and legislation that shape livelihoods. These structures and processes can help people to improve their livelihoods by controlling the context of vulnerability or by helping people to accumulate assets. They can also make people more vulnerable by creating shocks through policies or legislation that affect adversely the livelihoods of the rural poor. Examples of transforming structures and processes include international trade negotiations, development organisations that carry out beekeeping development interventions, organisations that promote ethical trade, protected area authorities that control beekeepers’ and honey hunters’ access to bees in a national park and legislation on exportation and importation of bee products in both the exporting and the importing country. The context of vulnerability, livelihood assets and transforming structures and processes affect the choice of people’s livelihood strategies which create livelihood outcomes. These in turn, affect people’s livelihood assets by either enhancing them or taking away from them. As examples, negative feedback could result from a failed business, a failed crop or a failed development intervention. An example of positive feedback from livelihood outcomes to assets is when increased income


from beekeeping enables a member of the beekeeper’s family to start a small business. Several authors have pointed out that poor rural people often rely on a number of different types of economic activities for their livelihoods and it is the combined effect of these activities that matter for the household economy. People often practice different occupations during different times of the year because of their seasonality. When possibilities of diversification are not available people must migrate, use savings and/or consume less during the season when sources of livelihood are not available (Chambers & Conway 1991; Ellis 2000; Hussein & Nelson 1998). Entire rural populations in developing countries are living in constant state of transition. Agroindustry and globalising markets are reducing the importance of “traditional” forms of agriculture as sources of livelihood in many parts of the developing world. At the same time transnational migration and tourism are increasing. Many “traditional” rural communities are maintained in great measure by remittances from relatives working in towns or abroad and income from tourism (Ellis 1993; Kearney 1996). Livelihood outcomes include income, food and material goods, but they also include non-material outcomes such as increased contentment, well-being and reduced vulnerability. People are not entirely dedicated to maximising their income. In addition to income, people value numerous other factors that may include free time, self-esteem, respect, sense of control, physical security, health, and education as well as access to services, entertainment, religion and cultural heritage. In addition to financial value honey has cultural values in many societies. Beekeepers are often respected for their occupation, which requires knowledge and skills and gives a product that is highly regarded (Bradbear et al 2002; Crane 1999; DFID 2003).


Context and Methods Although few or no people live in the strictly protected parts of Ranomafana national park, approximately 32,000 people live in its buffer zone. In this research they are referred to as the people who live in Ranomafana national park. They live in approximately 100 small communities that have 10 to 600 people. The buffer zone is defined as a three-kilometre belt around the park including those fokotany (groups of two to five villages) and firaisana (municipality) centres that have villages within this belt (modified from Grenfell 1995). Madagascar is relatively sparsely populated, the population density is 26 people per square kilometre, but the population is growing fast. The growth rate is estimated to be 3%, which means that at current rate the population would double in just 22 years (CIA 2003). Poverty is a serious problem in all rural areas of Madagascar. In the province of Fianarantsoa, where Ranomafana National Park is located, 81% of rural population lived below the poverty line in 1999 according to national statistics (Tableau de bord 2002). Most people in the buffer zone of Ranomafana National Park have little or no access to governmental or other basic services such as health and education. In 1995 it was estimated that literacy rate was 40% among adults and less than that for adolescents (Grenfell 1995). In this research 25 beekeepers were interviewed individually using semi-structured interviews, participant observation of beekeeping and PRA methods. Additionally beekeepers were interviewed in groups. The interviewed beekeepers came from nine villages in the buffer zone of Ranomafana National Park. Observing bees and beekeeping during different


seasons of the year was important for understanding the activities of bees and beekeepers during different seasons. Beekeepers were interviewed and observed during three field visits, which took place in November 2002, in April-May 2003 and in September 2003 and lasted one month, three weeks and two weeks respectively. Three Malagasy agronomists with beekeeping experience worked as interpreters in the interviews. The interviewed beekeepers were selected by visiting villages and looking for people that identified themselves as beekeepers. Information on beekeeping in developing countries is based on beekeeping handbooks such as Zambian Beekeeping Handbook (Clauss 1991) and publications by FAO such as Tropical and Sub-Tropical Apiculture (1986), Value-Added Products from Beekeeping (Krell 1996) and the journal Bees for Development, published by a British NGO that promotes beekeeping in developing countries. Written materials in English and French regarding Ranomafana National Park were reviewed. These include publications, plans, evaluations and reports concerning the establishment and running of the national park.

Beekeeping and Honey Hunting in Ranomafana National Park In Ranomafana National Park people typically rely on a wide variety of activities to make a living. There are some indications that beekeeping and honey hunting are considered very important activities. The prohibition on honey hunting is one of the most frequently mentioned concerns of local residents when asked about the negative impacts of the national park


(Korhonen 2003; Lappalainen 2002:48). Beekeeping and honey hunting are practiced by several people in all the villages that were studied. Approximately 95% of persons that identified themselves as beekeepers were men. Figure 3 indicates how beekeepers in Sahavondronana, one of the studied villages, described the importance of various sources of income in a PRA exercise. Seven beekeepers, three women and four men, participated in the exercise. Since there are approximately 40 households in Sahavondronana, seven beekeepers represent a large proportion of the village. Informal discussions with other residents of the village indicated that practically all men in the village practiced some form of beekeeping or honey hunting.

other agriculture 16 %

crayfish 15 %

animal husbandry 9%

eels 15 %

rice 14 %

beekeeping 11 % crafts 14 %

Figure 3. Sources Sahavondronana.

honey hunting 6%

of

livelihood

for

beekeepers

in


Madagascar’s honeybee Apis mellifera unicolor is endemic to the island (Ruttner 1988: 226-227). In Ranomafana National Park, bees are very docile and it is quite possible to manage most colonies without protective clothing when smoke is used. Beehives are sometimes placed very close to homes, even few metres from doorsteps, indicating that bees are not considered to be a threat to people. Honey production in Ranomafana National Park can be divided to three forms: 1) Honey hunting refers to taking honey and beeswax from wild bees. 2) “Traditional” beekeeping refers to apiculture with traditional beehives, which are mostly hollowed-out logs. They are used as fixed-comb hives, where bees are allowed to build the combs in the hive as they please. 3) “Modern” beekeeping refers to apiculture using frame or topbar hives, where bees are guided to build combs in a certain way so that the combs are easy to remove from the hive for inspection or harvesting. All three forms of honey production are practiced in all the studied villages, often by the same people. Honey processing is similar in all three forms of honey production. Honey and wax are separated by squeezing them with hands. Honey is strained to remove wax particles and bees from it. The average price of honey per litre is one euro, which is roughly equal to an agricultural labourers one day’s salary. Beeswax is sold especially from the higher elevations of Ranomafana National Park to the high plateau, where it is used to make polishes and other products. A “hat” is a commonly used measure when selling beeswax. A hat of unprocessed wax can be sold for 0.36 euros. In lower elevations of the park beeswax is usually discarded. Most bee colonies are small. Hives that measure only 50 cm x 50 cm x 30 cm seem to be spacious for most


colonies. This is probably because unicolor colonies are naturally small and because beekeepers take a lot of the colony’s resources by removing honey, wax and brood from the hive slowing down the colony’s growth. Honey hunting is practiced as casual and planned activity. To find bee nests skilled honey hunters look for bees’ droppings and look at the way bees fly. Honey hunters know that bees fly in a straight line when returning to their nest. Some honey hunters manage a network of known nest sites, which are checked regularly. Some nest sites have been known longer than 20 years by two generations of honey hunters. Earlier some honey hunters could consider certain areas their own territories for honey hunting, but nowadays these territories no longer exist. This change in social relations is possibly a result of increased number of people in the area. Sometimes improvements are made to nests. Hollow trees containing bee nests may be cut to pieces forming several log hives (Hockley 2003). Honey hunting can be profitable. The only investment required is the time used in hunting honey and processing it. Hockley & Jones (2002) report that a honey hunter gets an average of 3.15 litres of honey on one collect. This can be sold for approximately three euros, which equals three days’ salary for an agricultural labourer. Additionally the beeswax can be sold for approximately 0.7 euros. The honey hunters could also take the bees and potentially sell them to a beekeeper, but until now this has not been widely practiced. It is difficult to practice honey hunting without causing much harm to bee colonies. It is usually not possible to reach the honeycombs without also taking the brood combs, which are situated near the entrance. Most honey hunters remove all the honey and brood from the nest. This takes so much of the colony’s resources that its ability to survive is seriously reduced.


“Traditional” beekeeping is practiced in fixed comb hives i.e. hives where bees are allowed to build their nests freely without an effort to achieve a certain structure in the nest. These hives are mostly hollowedout logs. The log is usually about one metre long with an inside diameter of 20–40 centimetres. The logs are not split, but they may have openings that facilitate harvesting. Sometimes one of the sides is open and the open side is placed on the ground. The hives are usually made from big trees growing in the rainforest and felled for this purpose. One or two log hives can be made in a day (Hockley 2003). The price of a log hive is approximately 1.4 euros. A log hive lasts for up to 1015 years, even when it is placed on the ground in the wet rainforest. Other types of traditional beehives that are in use include a pottery hive and rock cavities or (natural) holes in the ground with some improvements made to them. Beekeepers attract bees to empty hives by beeswax and citronella (Cymbopogon nardus). Beehives are usually placed on the ground (not on trees) either in the forest or on one’s own land near the fields. Hives are often located far from the beekeepers home, up to one hour’s walk through fields and forest. Time and money invested in this type of beekeeping is small when beekeeping is done alongside other activities. The only time and energy consuming activities are making the hive, removing the honey and processing it once or twice a year. It is possible to practice beekeeping in log hives without disturbing the colony very much. Honey combs can be removed from one end of the hive without disturbing brood combs. However, many beekeepers remove all the combs from the hive causing similar damage to the colony as honey hunters do. According to the experiences of the interviewed beekeepers, bees usually abandon their hive after honey is collected. Moving wild colonies from


the forest to a beehive, actively catching swarms and dividing colonies have not been widely practiced until now. Because of destructive methods used in harvesting honey and limited ways of obtaining new colonies of bees, a very high proportion of beekeepers’ hives are empty. Honey yields from one log hive vary greatly, between 0-10 litres per year depending on weather conditions and the strength of the colony. “Modern” beekeeping refers to beekeeping in frame and top-bar hives, which have been introduced to Ranomafana National Park during recent years by development projects and NGOs. A frame hive is a beehive where honeycombs are hanging inside a wooden frame. Top-bar hives function in a similar way as frame-hives, but they are simpler. Instead of a frame they only have top-bars lined as a roof for the hive. Bees build their combs so that they hang from the bars. Some beeswax is melted on the bars to guide the bees so that they build the combs along the bars. In both frame hives and top-bar hives combs can be easily removed from the hive so that bees are not disturbed very much and no damage is done to bees or the combs they have built. This enables beekeepers to use beekeeping techniques, which are impossible or difficult in a traditional beehive, such as checking when honey is ready for harvesting, removing honeycombs without disturbing the colony, dividing colonies and inspecting the brood. This type of beekeeping makes sense only, if beekeepers have both knowledge on how to use these improved techniques and time to practice them. Bees can produce more honey in frame hives, because beeswax is recycled in them. The production of wax takes a lot of the bees’ resources. It has been estimated that bees use eight kilos of honey to produce one kilo of wax. Since honey is more valuable for beekeepers than wax, in highly developed forms of


beekeeping the efforts of bees are guided toward honey production by returning wax combs to hives after removing honey from them. This requires the use of a honey extractor and wax foundation sheets. Since this equipment is not available in Ranomafana National Park, this type of beekeeping is not practiced. The frame hives that have been introduced by development projects are being used as top-bar hives or as fixed-comb hives. Top-bar hives are cheaper than frame hives and easier to make with limited tools. However, only the wealthier villagers can afford to buy planks and metal roofing for a beehive. Top-bar hives can be made from various materials that are locally available such as clay, mud, cow dung and bamboo with a traveller’s tree roof. Honey and wax production in a top-bar hive is not necessarily greater than it is in a well managed log hive, but a top-bar hive enables beekeeping techniques such as dividing colonies, which is impossible in a log hive. Dividing colonies would enable beekeepers to control swarming and increase the number of bee colonies they have. The national park authorities have considered honey hunting one of the biggest threats to conservation (Grenfell 1995). Honey hunting is considered a problem, because bees often build their nests in old trees with large cavities and honey hunters sometimes cut these big trees down to reach the nest. However, often wild bee nests are located at the root of trees and rock cavities where honey hunting does not require cutting trees down. It is in the interest of a honey hunter not to harm the nest site, which may be occupied by bees again. According to the park authorities, honey hunting in the park has decreased during recent years. The park authorities have also discouraged the use of log hives in beekeeping, because the logs come


from the national park. However, log hives can also be made from trees that are not from the national park, such as eucalyptus trees. Beekeepers know that bees depend on flowering trees and it is quite possible that beekeeping can advance conservation goals in the sense that it gives a reason for people to protect and plant trees.

Possibilities of Apicultural Development Livelihood assets that people have in Ranomafana National Park present both opportunities and limitations from the point of view of beekeeping. Abundant natural capital, such as bees, plants and water, makes large scale beekeeping possible. As an island Madagascar has been spared from the spread of many serious bee diseases and parasites, which is an obvious advantage for beekeepers. An indication of the existence of human capital for beekeeping is that there are people in all the villages that have knowledge of bees and experience in working with bees in honey hunting, beekeeping or honey processing. Limited literacy limits people’s possibilities to learn beekeeping from books. Because beekeeping is a very common activity it is possible for those who would like to start beekeeping to learn beekeeping from people they know. As a protected area, Ranomafana National park is an area of interest for many NGOs, which have been instrumental in arranging beekeeping education in the area. Physical capital, such as transportation, roads, tools and buildings for storing and processing bee products, is extremely limited presenting a great challenge for larger scale beekeeping in Ranomafana


National Park. Although beehives can be made using simple tools, these tools are not available to all beekeepers. A national road passes through the area which is an opportunity for beekeepers that live close to the road as the road is a market place where prices for bee products are higher than they are in the villages. Roads can also be used in transporting bee products to towns, although beekeepers themselves do not own vehicles. Transportation is an especially challenging issue for those beekeepers that live far away from roads. They can transport their bee products only by carrying them on trails that are on the steep slopes of the rainforest terrain. Beeswax is relatively light to carry, but honey weighs 1.4 times as much as water and it is thus very heavy to carry in mountainous terrain. On the other hand, carrying honey to markets can be easier compared with other agricultural products. It is common for people to carry bundles of bananas over long distances on the trails in the buffer zone of Ranomafana National Park. Two large bundles of bananas are heavy and the price paid for them (0.7 euros for two bundles) on the market is less than the price of one litre of honey. An interviewed beekeeper who lives approximately one hour’s walk from a road said that he would try to produce more honey instead of bananas, because honey is easier to transport to the market through the trail. Financial capital available to beekeepers to invest in beekeeping is very limited. The amount of financial capital needed in improving beekeeping depends on the goals for increasing honey production. A lot of financial capital is not needed, if the goals are modest: if beehives are made from materials that are locally available and inexpensive, if little is invested in transportation or honey processing facilities.


Beekeeping and honey hunting have traditionally been considered to be men’s jobs, but there are no cultural reasons why women could not be beekeepers. Women have less experience in working with bees, but there are women that have participated in beekeeping activities, such as honey harvesting and processing. Top-bar beekeeping requires less lifting of heavy objects than beekeeping in frame hives, because in top-bar beekeeping honey combs are lifted from the hive one at a time. Probably the greatest constraint for women to start beekeeping is the need to take care of time consuming household activities. People in Ranomafana National Park live in a context of vulnerability that affects their ability to practice beekeeping. Illnesses such as malaria are very common and they reduce beekeepers’ ability to work (Harper 2002). The busiest beekeeping season in October to December is a time of the year when people have a great amount of agricultural work, but less food is available, because stocks of rice and other agricultural products are low and prices are high (Ferraro & Rakotondranjaona 1991). The area of Ranomafana National Park is susceptible to cyclones which are potentially devastating to people’s livelihoods and considered by people themselves as one of the greatest threats to their livelihoods (Madhavan 1997). Measures on a large scale to improve health care, education and other living conditions would be needed to help people to move out of desperate poverty. Transforming structures and processes are changing the way beekeeping and honey hunting are carried out in Ranomafana National Park. The park authorities have prohibited honey hunting in the strictly protected parts of the national park and at the same time they encourage beekeeping in “modern” beehives and discourage beekeeping in log hives. Beekeepers and honey hunters could influence these


changes, if they were able to make their voices heard. This could be achieved through an organisation that would represent beekeepers. However, associations of any kind are extremely rare and political pressure groups are practically unheard of. An association or cooperative of beekeepers could serve several functions. It could advance local beekeeping knowledge by sharing information, purchase beekeeping equipment, sell bee products, apply funding and improve marketing of bee products. The prevalent attitude in Madagascar among government officials, development organisations and protected area management is that environmental protection and development in rural areas can be achieved by “educating” (in French “sensibilisation”) the poor people whose actions cause environmental degradation and problems of poverty. This education is understood to mean giving alternatives to traditional methods of agriculture especially tavy (slash-and-burn agriculture). In case of beekeeping and honey hunting “sensibilisation” for park authorities means giving up “traditional” methods of beekeeping and stopping honey hunting in the strictly protected parts of the national park and learning beekeeping in “modern” beehives. However, this change has not been very effective until now as beekeeping in modern beehives has often resulted in traditional beekeeping in a modern hive so that only the hive has changed, but management techniques have not. Both local and international markets for bee products are part of the transforming structures and processes that affect beekeeping in Ranomafana National Park. During recent years, Madagascar has imported a couple of hundred to a couple of thousand kilos of honey annually (INSTAT 2003). The importation of honey poses a risk of bringing bee diseases into Madagascar. Legislation concerning bee diseases was


created in 1999. This legislation makes possible banning importation of bees, honey and beeswax (L’Apiculture à Madagascar, p.152). Enforcing this legislation would prevent the spread of bee diseases and parasites to Madagascar. The average world market price of honey has been around 1.5 to 1.7 euros per kilogrammes during recent years. Honey can be sold in local markets in Madagascar for a similar price. At the moment it does not make sense for honey producers in Ranomafana National Park to export their honey abroad when a similar price for honey can be obtained locally. Since Madagascar’s honey production is predominantly nonindustrial and most producers have not organised themselves in associations or cooperatives, sufficient quantities of honey with reliable delivery schedules for exportation are not available. Infrastructure such as roads for transportation of honey, and facilities for processing honey are poor. Most honey produced in Madagascar does not meet international standards for honey quality or it simply could not be exported, because of risk of fermentation. Improving the quality of honey so that it would meet requirements for exportation seems a remote possibility with current infrastructure. Small scale ethical trade is a possibility as honey from Ranomafana National Park can be marketed as special honey from rainforest and a conservation area. At the moment Fair Trade Labeling organisation does not certify producers in Madagascar (Fair Trade Organization 2003). Rainforest honey tastes quite different from honey that European and North American consumers are used to, which can be both a problem and an opportunity: mainstream markets are hard to reach, but a different taste adds to its specialty.


Conclusion The world’s national parks often follow the concept of a strictly protected national park. According to this concept pristine nature should be protected from people. This thought has its origins in the 19th century when the first national parks were established in the United States (Colchester 2003). Conventional ideas about strictly protected national parks often do not fit well in developing countries, where strict protection affects negatively people’s sources of livelihood. Forests are commonly used as grazing grounds for livestock in Madagascar (Duffy 2006). The products that forests provide for the poorest people include a wide range of goods such as building materials, game, fruit, nuts, roots, medicinal herbs and honey (FAO 2003). Beekeeping and honey hunting are common activities in Ranomafana National Park. Traditional beekeeping threatens some of the larger trees in the national park, but the harm caused by building log hives seems minimal compared to other threats to forests, such as clearing forest to farmland. Beekeepers can use alternative materials to build beehives to protect larger trees in the forest. Beekeeping and honey hunting techniques can be modified so that less harm is caused to bees. Because beekeeping provides work and income only in certain seasons of the year, it can not become the only source of income and work for anyone. However, a large number of people can derive some income from it. As most people in Ranomafana National Park area only earn around one euro per day, even less productive forms of beekeeping are profitable in the sense that they enable beekeepers to exceed the common wage level per one day. New beekeeping techniques, such as catching swarms, moving colonies, dividing colonies, feeding


bees and the use of protective clothing, would allow beekeepers to have more bees and a greater honey and beeswax production. It is not known, if the production per colony in a top-bar hive would be higher than in a log hive, but in top-bar beekeeping the number of colonies could be increased, increasing the total production. The old and new way of beekeeping will probably co-exist in the area in the future. For example, beekeepers can have top-bar hives that require more attention near their homes and continue to have log hives farther away from their homes, where it is not possible for beekeepers to work on their beehives as frequently. The natural conditions for larger scale honey production exist, but the major obstacles for expanding beekeeping are lack of physical and financial assets and limited local markets. Cooperation and coordination between honey producers in national level could be increased to improve learning from one another and combining efforts to develop beekeeping and markets for bee products in Madagascar.

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LIFE ASSET ANALYSIS - 153

A Life Asset Analysis – Conservation and the Life Security of Local People in Ranomafana National Park, Madagascar

Kaisa Korhonen Introduction Methods of biodiversity conservation vary, but during the past decades one of the most common approaches in the developing world is to integrate conservation with development activities. Integrating people into conservation management started slowly in the 1970s and expanded in the late 1980s. The first declaration of human rights in relation to the environment was announced in Stockholm in 1972, by the United Nations Environment program (UNEP). However, as recently as 1980, IUCN published the World Conservation Strategy, which recognized the need to reconsider conservation practices and address human needs in relation to them (Fortwangler 2003). Since then, various types of participatory and people-oriented conservation models have been developed, stemming from the failure of top-down conservation projects. Integrated conservation and development projects (ICDPs) belong to these current “participatory” and bottom-up approaches to conservation. However, the record of ICDPs is one of mixed success; in particular, development efforts have been used to buy the local people’s acceptance of conservation efforts (Brechin et al 2002; Huges & Flintan 2001). ICDPs, although designed to be more pro-people, still resembles old colonial practices, although the ultimate goal is conservation. According to


various studies, conservation efforts have had negative social impacts (e.g. Brechin et al 2002; Colchester 2003; Ghimire 1991; Neumann 2000; Wilshusen et al 2002) and conservation literature is filled with studies of the failures of these people-oriented approaches (Adams Hulme, 2001; Brandon et al 1998; Wilshusen et al 2002; Hughes Flintan 2001; etc.). At present, there is a growing consensus that nature conservation should contribute towards a more holistic understanding of the co-existence of people and nature (see e.g. IUCN 2003), and conservation programs place more emphasis on their social goals (Brechin et al 2003). The World Parks Conference of 2003 concluded that “biodiversity should be conserved both for its value as a local livelihoods resource and as a national and global public good”. However, despite the growing awareness of the necessity of taking into account the social aspect of conservation and considering conservation as a social process (Brechin et al 2002; Nygren 2000), these ideas have yet to be seen in practice in the developing world. ICDPs have thus far mainly concentrated on people’s opinions about the park, evaluating the success of conservation objectives, or measuring social impacts by household surveys. However, a growing body of literature has also emphasised the discursive plurality of biodiversity conservation and politicised geographies that are part of the contestation of protected areas (Peet Watts 1996; Blaikie Jeanrenaud 1997; etc.). This paper will rely on experience gained from these previous studies, but also attempts to analyse the impacts of conservation through life asset analysis. The study is part of my doctoral dissertation, carried out as part of the larger ECOMADA-project funded by the Finnish Academy, hosted by the University of Helsinki. ECOMADA


assessed ecological and social changes in threatened rainforests in Eastern Madagascar. In this chapter, I present a livelihood framework to consider the development and natural resources dilemma in a developing world context. I examine social and human assets from the perspective of “life security”, as well as consider the ways in which integrated biodiversity conservation shapes the changes in social and human assets. Biodiversity conservation is commonly based on western ideologies of the intrinsic value of nature as well as scientific knowledge of biodiversity. These values rarely include local people’s livelihood activities and their role in shaping biodiversity. The question of how biodiversity conservation has affected people’s lives, life security, and assets is also a question of conflicting ideologies of conservation and livelihoods, which affect the implementation of conservation and its related development activities. This study attempts to answer the following questions: How do people around the park define the assets of a secure life for themselves? How have these assets, particularly social and human assets, changed? Why? What is the role of the park in asset changes? What are the ways in which people pursue a secure life, how do they use their assets in this pursuit, and what is the role of the park in this process? First, I will briefly discuss the basic concepts used in the study. Second, I will describe the Ranomafana National Park as an ICDP. Third, I will present the methodological solutions of the study. Fourth, I will describe the secure-life assets defined by the people themselves as well as consider the changes and factors that limit and shape their access to them. Finally, I will consider the people’s means and opportunities to improve or maintain their life security, and examine the role of the RNP in this.


Concepts: Life Assets, Community and Life Security Attempts have been made to conceptualise rural life and natural resource use e.g. in terms of access to resource assets, sustainable livelihoods, and entitlements (e.g. Leach et al 1999; Bebbington 1999, Ribot Peluso 2003). Sustainable livelihoods are derived from people’s capacity to make a living by surviving shocks and stress, as well as improve their material condition without jeopardising other people’s livelihood options, either now or in the future (UNDP 2002). Sustainable livelihoods are achieved through access to a range of livelihood resources (natural, economic, human and social capital), which are combined in the pursuit of different strategies. Central to this framework is a range of formal and informal institutional factors influencing livelihoods. Bebbington (1999) has formulated a framework of rural livelihoods without automatically linking the analysis solely to agriculture and natural resources. He constructs his analysis based on five types of capital (assets): human, natural, economic, social and cultural. Bebbington further argues that these assets are not merely the means through which people make a living; they also give meaning to a person’s world and give them the capability to be and to act. However, I use a concept of “life security” - instead of livelihood security - as a focal concept for asset types. In contrast to livelihood security, the concept of life security is more focused on people’s own perceptions of their lives and survival than on quantitatively defining the whole system of livelihoods. I attempt to use “the asset base” defined by the people themselves in order to clarify how the park has affected the development of the central issues perceived as important by the people


themselves. Life security consists of aspects of life similar to well being or “a good life” - it describes the complexity of everyday life changes. Security, however, is a concept that is difficult to define without considering its conceptual opposites: insecurity, crisis, and vulnerability. Vulnerability and safety nets have crucial roles in “sustainable livelihood”. My interpretation of vulnerability emphasises the everyday insecurity of living, and vulnerability can be best understood as the lack of a key set of assets. Life security is defined through the abilities, means, possibilities and obstacles to securing essential assets for a satisfactory living. In addition, despite the concentration on people’s perceptions of these assets and their change, some aspects of the surrounding society as it affects assets and life security are also taken into consideration. Within the overall goal of the paper to draw insights from studying people’s life security, the aim is to concentrate on human and social assets. These asset are, however, intertwined with the other assets, thus all the assets are considered briefly, particularly with regards to their social implications. Bebbington (1997) argues that social capital is a crucial asset, both by itself and as a multiplier for other assets, and Pretty (2002: 72) suggests that social and human capital are also prerequisites for improving biodiversity and its conservation. Sayer and Cambell (2004: 11) argue that social capital enables people to deal with difficult times and allows them to cooperate and share scarce resources. Here, social capital is defined as features of social organisation, such as networks, shared norms, and social trust, that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit (Woolcock 2001: 37), as well as social relationships and networks which are seen as resources for power and access (Bebbington 1999; Bebbington et al 2004). Social capital is thus


seen as a compounding aspect between the members of a society (Putnam 2000). Social capital as such can also be seen as one of the characteristics of a community. This kind of assumption often assumes shared norms and a homogenous social structure within communities. However, community heterogeneity is now widely recognised in natural resource management (Agrawal Gibson 1999). Communities encompass various social positions such as gender, age, lineage, social caste, ethnicity etc., which is why a community as such cannot be considered as a single voice actor. Social differentiation, however, does not necessarily exclude social capital.

“Integrating” Conservation and Development in Ranomafana During the first Malagasy environmental program (1989-1997), USAID, together with other international donors, funded several ICDPs in Madagascar, including the Ranomafana National Park Project (RNPP). The RNPP was initiated by a group of primate researchers after the discovery of a new lemur species in Ranomafana in 1986 (Wright 1997). RNPP consisted of six integrated components: park management, biodiversity research, ecotourism, conservation education, rural development and health. The aim was to conserve biodiversity while increasing the quality of life of the local people. After 1997 the scope of the national environmental programme shifted from ICDPs to a “landscape approach”. However, the strong commitment to and belief that development and conservation go hand in hand continued. ANGAP (Association Nationale pour la


Gestion des Aires Protégées), the body that manages protected areas in Madagascar and receives funds mainly from World Bank, but has no legal authority, took care of park management, conservation education, rural development, and promotion of ecotourism in Ranomafana, while MICET (Madagascar Institute pour la Conservation des Ecosystemes Tropicaux) started to facilitate biodiversity research and health projects in 1998. Presently, the park’s development projects get funding from distributing 50% of the entrance fees to local people’s projects, in addition to some other funding sources. However, the development component decreased and projects diminished over time: health activities ended in 2001 and conservation objectives dictated the implementation of other development projects (Korhonen et al 2004; Korhonen 2005). Nevertheless, the research component of the former ICDP has remained strong, and the new research centre, ValBio, was constructed near the park entrance in 2001-02. ValBio was partly funded by the University of Helsinki and concentrates on biological research into biodiversity (see more in Korhonen forthcoming 2007).

The People around the RNP The people around RNP live in approximately 100 small communities, of between 10-600 people each, with a total population of about 32,000. The park overlaps seven municipalities that have villages in the peripheral zone. The core area of the park consists of 43,500 ha of strictly protected area, where access is controlled by the park management, surrounded by a peripheral zone where partial resources use is allowed. Development


projects at the park are carried out in this peripheral zone, which is defined to be a three-kilometre belt around the park (Grenfell 1995). People in the park area have been classified as belonging to two ethnic groups: Tanala and Betsileo. However, ethnicity is a complex concept and cannot be considered as a fixed characteristic. Especially in Madagascar, the division into certain “ethnic” groups has been defined by the economic activities that the people practice, rather than their “ethnic characteristics” (Kottak 1971). Conservation has brought many new people to Ranomafana, who together with various local groups have various interests in conservation and related activities. Scientists, international and national conservation NGOs, nonlocal merchants and tourist business owners have moved to Ranomafana after the establishment of the park. Workers at the RNP are from the highlands, and generally tend to look down on the slash-and burn cultivators (Tanala) and see themselves superior to them (see e.g. Harper 2002, Hanson 1997 for the misuse of ethnicity in RNP). However, being a Tanala or Betsileo is more a “way of life” and a result of livelihood activities determined by ecological conditions. People in the forested and mountainous lowlands have adapted the farming technique known as shifting cultivation (tavy), which is suitable for local ecological conditions, but they also practice paddy rice and cash crop cultivation. People living in the western and higher elevations mainly cultivate paddy rice. Tavy, practiced mainly in the lowlands of the park, is considered to be the most serious threat to both the primary forests and the park (ANGAP, 1998) and it has been forbidden in the peripheral zone since the founding of the park. However, the new national government recently announced a ban on all types of burning, which has caused many conflicts. The newly elected president


declared on September 2002 that all types of land burning are the equivalent to homicide, and thus renewed an older law (see e.g. Hanson 1997 for the history of tavy regulations in the area). The law that prohibits burning is actually from the colonial period, but the presidential declaration effectively transferred the old law into active use. The maximum punishment for burning forest (or land) is five years imprisonment. Farmers in Ranomafana associate this ban with the park, as its existence has stopped the practice of tavy during last ten years. However, although the law is the same within and without the park area, it gives legal tools to ANGAP (which works together with Ministry and police forces) to punish people for burning. It could be said that the effect of the law is stronger in the park area because of the presence of the park’s patrolling agents, who control the activities of the people in the park area. However, this is not the first time that fire regulations have been implemented, e.g. the French during the colonial period also restricted the use of tavy (see e.g. Jarosz 1993; Hanson 1997; Kull 2002). RNP is thus not the first outside regulator of the lives and livelihoods of people living in the Eastern forests; before the French colonial regulations, the powerful Merina (the dominant ethnic group in highland areas) autocracy imposed forced labour, high taxes, and the sale of slaves during the 18th century. Apart from tavy, other factors have also contributed to forest destruction: the exploitation of hardwood and cash crop cultivation (mainly coffee), introduced by the French in the beginning of the last century, converted the forestland to other land use purposes, and affected the substitute agriculture (Jarosz 1993; Hanson 1996).


Methods Traditionally, ethnography has relied on extensive participant observation. However, the rapid application of “ethnography” (see e.g. Scrimshaw Hurtado 1988 for rapid ethnography and Bentley et al 1988 for rapid ethnographic assessment) has also been popular among development researchers due its ability to generate information in a short period of time. This also applies to various participatory approaches such as PAR and PRA etc. (see e.g. Chambers for PAR). This study can be described as “ethnographically informed” qualitative impact research. I have used diverse field methods, most of which are more characteristic of Rapid Rural Assessment (RRA) than traditional ethnography as such. However, the researched phenomenon has been studied from many different perspectives, and the observation of various actors dealing with conservation in Ranomafana has been an important part of the research. Fieldwork was conducted in the three phases (2001, 2002, 2004), and in total six months was spent in the field. Field practices included various methods of data collection. This study’s data are mostly based on focus group and individual interviews, complemented by observation, in the five key study villages. Participant observation is one of the primary methods in ethnographic research, and rapid appraisals also rely on information gained from observation, despite the differences in their intensity and level of participation. Living in villages, as well as living among the conservationists and NGO workers, helped me to understand the multiplicity of views, positions, and opinions about conservation and its related activities. I lived nearby one of the key families when in the village, and observed - and to some extend participated in -


meals and everyday activities (cooking, fieldwork, water fetching, bathing etc.). I interviewed the key persons in each of the study villages, using semi-structured interviews. Two types of key persons were identified. First, “the expert type” key persons included the “specialised” villagers, or other professionals who were relevant to the research themes. Second, the opinions and views of various conservationrelated actors were included in the study, and NGO and park workers were interviewed not only as “professional key persons” but also as actors with their opinions. Ordinary villagers who were willing to talk with me several times were also included, and had much information relevant to the research issues. Most of these individual key persons (n=20) were identified by the focus group interviews. I conducted focus group interviews (n=20) in the four villages selected for closer study, as well as in the Ranomafana centre. I conducted focus groups among women and men (in different groups) of different ages. I intended to have representatives from all “wealth classes” in a village. A suggestive wealth ranking was constructed before the interviews took place, with the aid of contact persons from the villages. There are other differentiations than economic status among the villagers (e.g. social caste), however I decided to organise the groups by age and gender. I recognise that unequal power relations between participants may have influenced the discussion, but organising groups directly through social caste would have been practically impossible. However, the “poorer” also spoke out in group situations. The most desirable group size for these practices is around 6-10, depending on the situation (see e.g. Khan Manderson 1992), and my group sizes varied from 7 to 12. Before the interview, each participant’s basic information was written down (age, origin, land owning


status, as well as some other relevant matters such as relation to royal lineage). Using this information, it was later possible to distinguish the characteristics of a speaker. The central theme of this analysis has been the identification of the role of the park in the issues being studied, particularly those of change. Impact attribution is one of the key challenges of the study. Utilising a comparative research setting relative in time and place was useful, and it also revealed the difficulty of ascribing impact attribution. This study uses a critical realist approach to evaluate the impact of conservation and development on people’s lives. The realist evaluation draws from the concept of critical realism developed e.g. by Sayers (2000). Critical realists argue that it is more important to clarify the circumstances that made the change possible than to identify the causes of the change. Contextualisation is one of the key aspects of realistic evaluation. Bebbington (2004) also emphasises the contextualisation of the effects of NGO interventions. Realist impact evaluation begins with the in-deep investigation of the studied subjects. When an understanding of their essence and their functions (e.g. land tenure and distribution) had been achieved, the ways in which the park may have affected them became easier to realise. In addition to fieldwork, previous studies from Ranomafana, such as the preliminary socio-economic studies from early 1990s (e.g. Ferraro Rakotondranjaona 1991) as well as other project and park documents, were used as study sources. Other doctoral studies (e.g. Harper 2002; Hanson 1997; Marcus 2000) provided important information used in the study. National newspapers (Midi Madagasikara, L’Express and Tribune Madagascar) were also used to some extent in order to locate articles related to rural development and conservation. My research assistant


investigated the archives of the newspapers in the National library in Anatananarivo for the years 20022004, focusing on the issues around the date of the renewal of the burning law. Approximately 85 articles were collected.

Asset Base – Life Security People around the park defined a secure life in their own terms. In this paper, the focus is on the assets of a good, secure life - but they can be seen as similar to assets used in sustainable livelihoods. These assets pertain to achieving “a good life”, which implies different ways of satisfying fundamental human needs. Fundamental human needs can be considered very broadly. The analysis of universal human needs by Doyal Gough (1991) concludes that individual needs can be considered to be based on physical health and the individual’s autonomy, which are preconditioned by intermediate needs such as water, nutrition, housing, security, education and reproduction. The assets of life security describe living in more general terms, but touch upon the essence of what people perceive as the most important in that specific time and place. This is not, however, a fixed categorisation, but a “summary” of the assets. Some of the assets could be classified as belonging to several asset categories at the same time. Furthermore, this summary does not imply that “life security” is the same for all people; it is different for the diverse groups found among the local people (gender, age, social caste etc.), however this summary groups them together.


“Material assets” (economic and natural)

Human and social assets

Resources (land, cows etc.)

Freedom, faith, kindness, youth, security, health

Means (tavy, to have workers etc. equipment)

Good relations within a family and village

Products (rice, food)

To have children

Money (job, food)

Education

Table 1. Assets defining a secure life to people in study villages near the national park, as well as just outside of the peripheral zone of the park.

Life is never stable, and seasonality of living is a very characteristic element of village life. Life is organised by the agricultural calendar and climatic conditions. In addition to the “normal” changes of living and life assets, villagers (both in the peripheral zone and out of it) perceived increasing insecurity and negative changes in their main assets. The lack of any of these assets makes people more vulnerable, unable to resist shocks or the more severe effects of “normal” seasonality. In the context of severe poverty, economic assets were strongly emphasised. Despite the intention to concentrate on human and social assets, various economic and natural assets are briefly reviewed here, particularly because they were closely connected to human and social assets.


Rice - A Fundamental Asset -They [social relationships in a village] have worsened because of the food problem. It happens all the time that people don’t share food with other people, even close relatives. You laugh because you know that what I say is true. Before, there wasn’t such a problem. Now, it’s hard to find food. Everything is very expensive: potatoes, beans, fertilizers, anything. … -It could be better if there was enough food. As it is not the case, it’s normal that people don’t get on well with their neighbours. You just don’t have time to care for other people. If your neighbour has food and you don’t, expect no mercy. He won’t give you anything. That’s how bad it is. People are afraid of their own relatives when these last are poor. – Men in a highland village in the park area It is very obvious that in a context of malnutrition and constant lack of food, where the great majority of villagers are living on the edge of everyday survival, the main aspect of providing a secure life is food. Lack of food makes human life “barbaric” and leads to many social problems. Overall relationships inside a village have become increasingly worse, and because of the increased poverty people steal food from each other. Having enough food mainly meant having enough rice. Rice is a staple food for all the Malagasy, and also has a strong cultural meaning. Rice constitutes Malagasy life security materially, socially and culturally. A family having food other than rice is considered very poor, and having enough rice at every meal was considered a very essential part of a good life. Although rice has a strong cultural element as a staple food, considering peasants


solely as rice farmers provides a simplistic view of their agricultural activities and livelihoods. However, the price of rice was perceived as increasing every year (this is also a reality, see e.g. Midi Madagasikara 2004), while at the same time fields were perceived as producing an insufficient amount of rice for the families’ consumption. In a lowland village near the park border, only the three households who own most of the paddy rice fields can produce enough rice for the year’s consumption. Most of the villagers have to buy more than half of the rice they need, and a lone mother without paddy fields can produce only two months of the year’s consumption quota. This creates a serious context of vulnerability. The starving period (soudure), the time between harvests when there is no food in storage, is generally perceived as becoming longer. People suggested various reasons for the food shortage. The main reason was the shortage of cultivable land. This was particularly the case in the lowlands, where regulations outlawing tavy cultivation prevent the usage of the majority of land situated on steep slopes. This was why the park and the state were blamed for the food shortage. However, outside of the peripheral zone most of the available land has been taken under cultivation, and there is a constant lack of cultivable land near villages. The park is thus not the only cause for the shortage of land, however the presence of its agents, who patrol and monitor the villagers’ activities in a way which underlines their superior position and power, together with the presence of the artificial “border” of the park - where abundant resources are seen on the other side - affects people’s perception that the park is the most important and powerful actor limiting their access to land. In highland areas, lack of fertilizers and the poverty of the soil were seen as obstacles to the


production of sufficient food (the soil in Ranomafana region is extremely unfertile, see Johnson 2000 for the soil characteristics in Ranomafana). The high price of rice in the markets as compared to income was also seen as an important factor. This was particularly true for the landless, who have to buy most of the year’s rice, although some get their salary in rice. One of the main reasons for food shortages mentioned was an increased number of people living in a village. There was simply not enough food for everyone. However, land shortage and lack of food was also an issue in the villages farther away from the park. The park’s development component has responded to seasonal food availability changes by creating rice granaries. However, conservation objectives have had an affect on the optimal function of the granaries, as the associations through which they function are not created according to village organisation, but rather for “conservation monitoring purposes”. At present, many of the granaries have stopped functioning, because of the misuse of money and disagreements between villagers (see Korhonen 2005 for more details on rice granaries). However, conservation agents believe that the reason for the associations’ failure is the peasants’ way of life: life was so easy in the forest, which is the reason why people do not care about each other and can’t work together. Nevertheless, the new park associations (used for development projects and conservation education) have been fashioned so that they are most consonant with conservation objectives. In addition, due to the misuse of money (by the leading villagers as well as NGO workers), these associations have created arguments between villagers, and the majority do not want to participate in them anymore.


Social Capital and Community Co-operation amongst people is, however, one of the key issues in life security. Co-operation can also be conceptualised as social capital, the importance of which to livelihood security has recently been strongly emphasised (see e.g. Bebbington 1999; Scoones 1998). People living in a village form a fokolona, a “community” or “the people of a village”. Fokolona are those who share their daily life together. Fokolona regulates the whole way of living: “It is a fokolona which makes a human being a human being. Without a structure like the fokolona there would be a chaos”. (An old man in Ranomafana). When the rule of the fokolona is broken, the village elders and ampamjaka (king) bestow the punishment. The nature of the punishment characterises the importance of the fokolona: depending on the degree of the crime, the punishment is a certain degree of isolation from the fokolona. For example, a mild punishment is the denial of the right to ask for fire from neighbours, or denial of the right to visit a sick person. The strictest penalty is a ban on participating in funerals of the members of the punished family. It could be said that community life in villages represents “social capital” as such. Fokolona represents the greatest source of life security for the people. However, economic activities are generally kept inside a family (fianakaviana), rather than the fokolona. Fianakaviana means family in general. It can have various meanings, but here it was considered mostly as people having the same ancestor. Fianakaviana usually incorporates the extended family (cousin, aunts, etc.). As economic issues are kept inside the family, trust and loyalty between fianakaviana members is high. These family relations can also be considered to represent


strong social capital. However, such strong family relations are not always seen positively from the conservationist point of view, because people do not report illegal activities affecting the forest to the park authorities if it involves their relatives (see also Korhonen 2005). Fianakaviana was not viewed as an “association” by the park’s developers for use in the development projects, and new associations were introduced even though it was known that people prefer to keep economic activities within the fianakaviana. Despite the importance of the fokolona, communities are not homogenous, as many of the conservation projects tend to assume (Neumann 2000). There are different social positions inside a fokolona. Generally, land ownership defines one’s position in a village. Access to land is traditionally defined through one’s ancestry, and particularly in lowland villages where paddy fields are scarce, individuals in a village who own paddy rice fields belong to the upper social class, while “new immigrants” in particular own little land. However, despite the fact that the old powerful lineages maintain their positions, due to the increasing role of money in access to land, rich newcomers can also buy the villagers’ lands. The deepened social division into landless and landowners has strengthened recently because of the forbidding and heavy punishment of tavy cultivation, and the amount of landless has also increased because many have had to sell their lands. The park increases the land shortage, and thus fortifies social differentiation through the existing social structures, as well as through new social groups (see also Pffeffer et al 2001 for the parks and resource shortages). The family of the apmanjaka, the royal lineage, usually represents the founders of a village, and the family members have several privileges. However, a village society, particularly in the lowlands, offers few


opportunities to the landless and the lower social castes, although all the villagers (including women) can express their views in village meetings. In some villages, and particularly in the Ranomafana centre, the park has created powerful new social groups who benefit from conservation related funds and can circumvent the traditional authorities. Furthermore, the power of the apamjaka and village elders has been reduced due to the land shortage and the park’s regulations on land use; in previous times they were empowered to distribute lands to the young and newcomers, but nowadays there are no lands to be given. Having children was perceived as one of the central elements of one’s life. Despite some opinions that an increasing amount of children creates problems in food availability, children as such were seen as an important social asset that defines one’s position in a society. This is closely linked to the concept of the continuity of life, where children are part of future security (for more about the importance of having children Korhonen et al [2004]). However, the park’s initiative to limit the amount of children through family planning activities, in order to reduce the amount of people who harm the forest, was never understood by the local people as such (Korhonen et al 2004), although some people have started to want less children than before due the hard economic situation. A meaningful life should also possess freedom, faith, friendship, kindness, respect and wisdom. In particular, freedom has been the “power” of life for the people in the lowlands of the park. The park has not been the first regulator of “freedom”, but men living near the protected area feel the loss of freedom and increasing amount of restrictions most keenly. The remote situation of some of the villages is partly determined by the desire to escape external powers and achieve more freedom. The location of many of the


villages was moved from the roadways to remote places during the French colonial period. In 1948, Madagascar experienced one of the most violent rebellions in French colonial history. People from the Ranomafana area actively participated in these rebellions. People also moved to escape taxation, became cattle thieves etc. (Ferraro Rakotondranjaona 1991.) In addition, the forbidding of the simple right to go into the forest affects the identity of the people and the way in which they perceive their world, particularly in the lowlands where people identify themselves as Tanala - “people of the forest”.

Social Fragmentation and Change Despite the respect for fokolona, community life is fragmenting. People always tend to complain about the present and exaggerate the “good old times”. I do not suggest that people lived in entirely harmonious communities in previous times. However, it certainly seems that economic and other structural changes have accelerated the occurrence of social problems and community fragmentation. On a family level, girls get pregnant earlier and without marriage, and families have more children than before (the decrease in the age of having first sexual intercourse and the first child are discussed more detailed by Korhonen et al [2004]). In order to be able to feed a family, parents have to work on Sundays and there is less time for social activities. In the Ranomafana centre in particular, men drink more alcohol, and relationships between spouses have worsened because of the difficult economic situation. Hard economic times have increased difficulties inside


the households, and women fear that men will leave when they feel that supporting a household with numerous children is impossible. On a community level, not as many festivals are celebrated as before, because of the increased poverty: people do not have the time and money to offer food as required (particularly in highland villages). Young people have difficulties finding jobs, because they do not have enough land to become farmers. The cooperation between families has worsened. Before it was common that children of one village were also taken care by the families from another village (Peters 1992); this is not common anymore. Due to the worsening economic situation, the parents’ workload has increased to the degree that they are less able to look after their children. In addition, in some villages, particularly in the highlands, co-operation in agricultural work has decreased. Before it was more common to help somebody in return for their help at a later time, but nowadays it is more common to ask for money for work. Increased economic difficulties that partly fragment the village society, however, also partly strengthen the sense of common roots, as the outside world is perceived through its opposing “restrictions” and “regulations”. However, trust between people is decreasing, and it was generally cited that “you can trust only yourself”. People tend to lock their doors, and robbery of food is common. The park represents additional problems, as it is perceived as an extension of state regulations. This is particularly true in the lowlands, because park agents are mostly from the highlands and not trusted. The park is seen as a part of the livelihood problem. The importance of having money has also increased, because fewer families can produce the rice they need for nutrition and most of the rice has to be bought. This is linked to wider social changes occurring


in the area, where market reliance on purchased rice is increasing. A survey made in 1997 indicated that the majority of villages near the park were not able to produce enough rice to meet annual consumption (Marcus 2000: 160), and this trend seems to have continued: 77% of the farmers in 2000 were net buyers of rice in the Ranomafana region (Moser Barret 2003). The shift from subsistence agriculture to cash crops makes villagers more dependent on markets, as well as on middle men who buy their products in markets. The forbiddance of tavy practices has accelerated this trend, because old rice fields cannot be cultivated in a productive way and people are changing them into cash crop fields. In addition, money is now becoming the most important factor in obtaining more land, and as a result richer villagers can buy the lands of the poorer. It has to be noted that there are great differences between villages in the ability to obtain money, and these differences strengthen already existing social differentiation. Obtaining money is dependent on the cash crop season, the locality of a village (remote/accessible, highlands/lowlands), gender, availability of agricultural daily labour etc. Only a few people have any savings; when money is needed, for example in the case of sickness to buy medicines, rice has to be sold, particularly during the “winter” when few crops produce any yield. The park has created a few jobs with monthly salaries, but those have benefited a marginal number of people, mainly educated men originating from outside the park area (Korhonen 2005). Furthermore, particularly in the Ranomafana centre, new social divisions have been created between those having a monthly salary and those not having one. It could be argued that the park has brought the whole area closer to a market economy primarily by promoting ecotourism. However, the benefits of ecotourism hardly reach remote villagers; instead, ordinary people see


product price increases (the local benefits of ecotourism have been discussed in more detail by Korhonen 2005). The lack of social capital is a loss of an important asset for a secured life, but it also limits the ability to improve one’s living situation. Lack of social assets leads to vulnerability, particularly in a society where fokolona is a form of life security. In many cases the lack of social capital is a consequence of a lack of economic and natural assets, or vice versa. Increasing social fragmentation was already noticed before the advent of the park (Ferraro 2002), and as seen in this study, social problems were also common in villages outside of the peripheral zone. However, new park associations (used for development projects and conservation education) have been formed in a way that are most consonant with conservation objectives. This has strengthened the old social divisions (the village upper class has benefited most from the projects) but also created new conflict between association members and non-members. In addition, the effect of the law forbidding tavy is stronger in the park area because of the park’s patrolling agents. This heightens the economic difficulties, leading to social fragmentation. Thus, it can be said that the park (through conservation and development) has contributed to the social and economic problems in the villages, rather than cushioning the adverse economic effect of the conservation as aimed at in ICDPs.


Means, Knowledge and Education Health in general, and particularly the ability to work, is one of the most important human assets, particularly for the poorest and landless. The park added a health project to its development component, but its effects have been poor (see Harper 2002; Korhonen et al 2004). Harper (2002) even suggested that the park has had a negative effect on people’s health status due to its contribution to the weakened economic situation. The importance of education, and its role in the future of the children, was generally recognized - in fact it was almost the only aspect of life that was thought to be generally improved. This was because of the recent primary schooling policy changes implemented by the new government, not because of the park’s efforts, although the park has built and repaired a couple of schools and supported teachers (see Korhonen et al 2004 for the effect of the park on schooling). In those villages where the park had built or rebuilt schools with the money from entrance fees, the park was seen as a contributor to the betterment of education. To have the means and strategies to be able to derive benefits from resources was also perceived to form an important part of a secure life. This implies “abilities” to benefit from assets rather an asset itself (Ribot Peluso 2003). Those include e.g. having enough equipment to be able to work in the fields (spades, hoes etc.), having the ability to use a suitable technique (such as tavy), and being able to hire workers. In lowland villages people could no longer afford to hire highlanders to work in their fields, which had been the tradition in past decades. Trips to search for wild food take longer than before. This was particularly the case in villages outside of the peripheral zone, as people living near the park still extracted wild resources from


the forest inside the park (illegal access is discussed by Ribot Peluso 2003). As mentioned previously, the slash-and burn technique (tavy) is forbidden, which makes it difficult to cultivate the steep slopes. As a result, many villagers may own land other than paddy rice fields but not be able to derive any benefits from it because of a lack of means (no capital to start cash crop cultivation, sickness preventing work on the land, lack of knowledge of a profitable technique while tavy is forbidden etc). However, people’s knowledge and means, as represented by traditional techniques such as tavy, are seen as “uncivilised” ways to cultivate by the park and the state. Park agents believe that “these people do not know how to master the land” and government policies encourage the public to consider peasants who burn as “criminals who should be punished” (Midi 2002). This represents direct “ideological” control (Peluso 1992) (see Korhonen forthcoming 2007 for more on ideological control in Ranomafana). This is also related to historical reasons affecting the general attitudes towards tavy (see Jarosz 1993 and Hanson 1996 for the history of forest “burning” in Madagascar). However, tavy is not only a rice cultivation technique, and is also used for other crops that are produced and intercropped with the rice. Rather than being merely a livelihood strategy, tavy also represents freedom, and respect for the will of the ancestors. Tavy is also a form of peasant resistance (Hanson 1996: 83; Kull 2002). However, despite the negative ecological consequences of tavy relative to the present population size, people do not burn the forest for the sake of destroying it, and the maintenance of the forest is also in their interest. Despite their determination to continue the practise of tavy, particularly in lands where it was already used, villagers perceived that a lack of “sensitisation” is preventing them from achieving a


secure and good life. This term is used in development projects in Madagascar, with the meaning that people are “made” more sensible and will thus abandon their old habits and adapt new ideas. People in villages are accustomed to NGO workers telling them that they need sensitisation in order to be able to improve their situation and behave in a “proper” way, which would in turn lead to a better life. This is not to imply that education and the introduction of new techniques would be a negative development. However, it assumes the type of knowledge that is shaping the access to resources and through it to a secure life – in this view, only by using modern techniques and obeying the orders of the park will the people survive. Park agents view technical expertise as superior to traditional local practises, which are seen only as methods that destroy the natural resources.

Possibilities and Means to Pursue Life Security From the point of view of a villager, the possible means to achieve life security include e.g. diversification of livelihoods: animal breeding, working for other persons, borrowing, selling or buying land, attempting to increase fertilizer use, going to other places to find food, gathering, hillside cropping and diversifying the crops. Now forbidden practises such as tavy and the hunting of animals are also included in survival strategies. The park’s patrolling rangers have noticed an increase in the use of tavy, particularly in 2002 when both political and economic crises affected Ranomafana. Despite the harsh penalties for burning, tavy is used even in villages in the highlands as a survival strategy when paddy rice fields do not produce enough food. One of the last survival options is to sell land, which is


however against the will of the ancestors. This option strengthens the position of the richest, because they are the only ones who are able to buy the land. Migration is also a possibility, particularly in highland areas, where many people have already moved to other places (such as the lowlands) to look for job opportunities. However, migration is still one of the last options, because it is against the will of the ancestors, and also is used mainly by men. For the women, men’s migration can cause extra problems, especially if men leave the family permanently. In addition, wide scale migration will fragment social assets. More “abstract” reactions can also be seen as coping mechanisms. The co-operation between families and the power of the fokolona, as well as the creation of new associations, were seen as solutions to problems and the means to pursue a better future, although these have been deteriorating during recent years. Some consider these to have had the opposite effect, as the worsened social situation made them think that they cannot trust anyone other than themselves. Women in particular believed that the power resides in the household and co-operation between the spouses. One very common view was to view aid from the outside as a solution. Despite the failure of the majority of the development projects, which have all been “technical” in nature (Korhonen 2005), in general villagers wanted more projects and more technicians. In addition, villagers have been very disappointed in the park’s promises: in the beginning many improvements were promised, but no benefits have been seen. Schmidt – Soltau (2003: 540) has analysed resettlement projects caused by conservation in Central Africa, and believes that disappointment in these promises can create an attitude where people are waiting for assistance from the outside to manage their daily lives. However, many villagers in the Ranomafana lowlands


wanted help but had already lost their belief in development through the “associations”, which are the means by which the projects are carried out nowadays, and doubted that any project would make a difference (see Korhonen, forthcoming 2007 for the associations in Ranomafana). Many were of the belief that life is in the hands of God and the ancestors, and that difficulties in life are the consequence of divine punishment. Harper (2002) suggested that economic difficulties (contributed to by the park) should have increased faith in the ancestors’ ability to solve social problems. However, young people strongly doubt the power of the ancestors, and instead increasingly believe in the power of money. The power is in the hands of the rich, NGO workers, or the state. However, although passive attitudes of waiting for help are seen, it is more common to adopt an active perspective. The power of an individual and the role of a person’s ability “to work hard” are seen as key issues in achieving a better and secure life. Contrary to the parks agents’ beliefs, people do not wait for help to get “modernised”. They are capable and knowledgeable enough to live meaningful lives, but their lives are facing severe changes that are increasingly caused by factors external to village societies. This does not mean that people have lived in “closed” societies before, but rather that external influence has increased. According to the founders of the park, conservation has been successful in Ranomafana, and the tradition of obeying authoritarian rule without resistance is listed as a contributing factor to this success. (Wright Andrimihaja 2002:130). Furthermore, conservationists’ ideas about peasants’ lives leave them little dignity: the park’s founders also listed people’s poverty as a factor that makes conservation successful: “The people living near the park are relatively poor, making it easier for an ICDP to make important contributions to their basic


needs and thus to have more influence on their decision making” (Wright Andrimihaja 2002: 130). However, people are not totally powerless, and although there are no open forms of protest or peasants’ movements, everyday resistance is common (see Korhonen (forthcoming 2007) about farmers’ resistance to conservation). Bebbington (1999: 2031) argues that “where rural people have not been able to improve their livelihoods the principal reason seems to derive from failure or inability to defend their existing assets”. It could be argued that the natural resources now under protection formed an important part of people’s asset base (land, freedom), and that they lost part of that asset base to a more powerful player: global conservationism. In particular, land being an important asset, the powerful actors bearing directly on land availability greatly affect people’s life security. This leads to the very central question about the uneven distribution of power between the actors in this case, and concerning natural resources and the prevailing ideologies shaping one’s access to assets. The park’s compensative development projects were aimed at improving the livelihood situation in the villages, but in many cases these projects have been affected by the dominant conservation ideology, which overlooks the needs of the people and views biodiversity conservation as the only goal. In addition, the attitude of the elite class who are implementing the projects is that they do not really care about the results of the projects, but rather their salary at the end of a month, which reflects their disinterest in the survival of the local people. Conservationist discourse is used for their own purposes to secure funding from international donors. Park agents conduct their work in a manner that best reflects their self-interests and strengthens the existing authoritarian power structures, which in turn enables


them to control access to benefits from the development projects. Furthermore, the current government policies that favour harsh punishment for burning (which is used as an agricultural tool) strengthen the “effect” of conservation. As a village leader said, “Now people are trying to obey the rules of the park’s associations because otherwise they are afraid of going to jail”.

Conclusions Life security consists of various elements to which access is shaped by a complex set of aspects and interests. The fragmentation of social and human assets leads to wider social and economic changes. Despite the people’s overall negative view of their asset changes, the improvement in education was generally recognised. In the villages, the park was seen as a part of the livelihood problem, not as a contributor to development or to a better future. However, in the Ranomafana centre many people have benefited from the presence of the park, although few of them are originally from the area. Social capital existed in villages previously, and despite the fact that the particular importance of social capital for legitimate participatory biodiversity conservation has been realised elsewhere (see e.g. Pretty [2002]), it was not properly understood by the conservation agents in Ranomafana. The life security of people living in the park’s peripheral zone is affected by the “forces” within their own society as well as, increasingly, forces external to it. External control through “legal” mechanisms of conservation is complemented by ideological influence and other structural and relational mechanisms. Vulnerability was defined as everyday insecurity of


living, as well as the lack of a key set of assets. Bryant (1998: 84) suggests that the poorest in a society are the biggest victims of long-term “disasters” such as land degradation, leading to marginalisation, and short-term catastrophes, leading to vulnerability. Long term “lack of assets” (vulnerability) can thus lead to marginalisation. The concept of life security was used in order to focus on the most important issues defined by the people themselves (e.g. the role of children could have been missed in a purely livelihood-focused analysis), however the concept could be developed further in order to make it more applicable to future cases. Life security was used to describe the complexity of everyday life changes, however, together with new factors, “normal” seasonal changes have become more burdensome. Conservation NGOs, initiated on behalf of the interests of US conservationists, together with current government policies (all the reforms of the new government have been targeted at “middle class” or wealthier peasants), accelerate the unjust social and livelihood changes among the villagers. In particular, the change from a subsistence economy to cash crop cultivation, together with authoritarian park administration, enhances social change, which in turn has unequal and unjust consequences. The increasing importance of money also affects the greatest security of the people: the “fokolona”, of which money as such has not been a part. This study strengthens the evidence and conclusions discussed in other similar cases: socalled social conservation programs still cannot meet the real needs of the people living near the protected areas, and on the contrary they may even have a negative impact on people’s lives. The future development of the Ranomafana National Park greatly depends on the attitudes of the persons working in conservation management, government policies, and the decisions of the local


people, such as whether to stay in ancestral lands or to move to other places to look for better living. It is difficult to estimate what will happen, however if no major changes are implemented in conservation policies in Ranomafana, conservation will continue to be quite isolated from the reality of local people’s lives. Social change, being both a cause for and an effect of ecological degradation, would have been inevitable with or without a conservation project. It could be argued that now at least the forest is “saved”. If nonintervention is not considered an option, the question then becomes how to minimise the unjust social consequences of intervention. With all the effort and funds expended for conservation and its related activities in Ranomafana, the change could have been culturally softer and socially and economically more just.

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PARTICIPATORY FOREST MANAGEMENT - 193

Participatory Forestry at the Crossroads in Laos and Vietnam: Two Participatory Forest Management Case Studies

Irmeli Mustalahti Introduction Participatory Forest Management (PFM) is a general term used to describe different participatory management models irrespective of their tenure. PFM includes different forms of forest management, such as (a) village forest management, (b) joint forest management carried out by government forest authorities and local people and (c, d, e) individual farmers’ participation in farm forestry, forest management, and natural and planted forest areas. In this paper I will concentrate on two different local cases, based on my own field research in Vietnam and in Laos. The analysis incorporates the differences in overall cultural and historical context between the two localities, and features two types of PFM models: forest management in Laos as an example of participatory forestry at the village or village-group level, and in Vietnam as an example of household level forestry. PFM seems to offer a means of promoting sustainable rural livelihoods and wider development goals, such as the prevention of environmental threats, poverty reduction, improved equity, and the encouragement of democracy and human rights, as referred to in the Millennium Development Goals incorporated in the UN Millennium Declaration (Edmunds & Wollenberg 2003; Oksanen et al 2003; Mustalahti 2006). Several researchers have


documented how participatory forestry provides numerous opportunities for local people, not only through legal access to natural resources but also by strengthening their governance skills (Hobley 1996; Ribot 1999b; Wily 2000; Miagostovich 2001; Dupar & Badenoch 2002; Colfer & Capistrano 2005). Conversely, it has also been recognised that it is overly optimistic to expect that forest dependent communities can automatically become skilful resource managers after the decentralisation of existing power structures and the recognition of local peoples’ legal rights over the forest resources (Mustalahti 2006). Long-term facilitation and capacity building, as well as external funding, are often needed to make PFM initiatives sustainable. Unfortunately, many local institutions suffer from low capacity and a lack of the extension staff needed to assist communities in building natural resources management skills and ensuring the accountability of different actors (Ribot 1999a; Sayer & Campbell 2004; White & Mustalahti 2005). It is important to recognise that holding the title to a parcel of land does not automatically mean that a community or a household is its ‘owner’ in the sense that they have decision-making power over the land or, for example, over assets such as valuable timber from forests on the land. According to Schlager and Ostrom (1992), owners hold rights of access, withdrawal, management, exclusion and alienation. In Laos and Vietnam this type of ownership of forestland is not possible. In Vietnam, households can hold the tenure of forestland for fifty years but they cannot, for example, sell the forestland or convert the use of forestland into agriculture. In both Vietnam and Laos, forestland is by law owned by the national community, and the state represents the national community in the management of timber resources.


In Laos and Vietnam, non-timber forest products (NTFP) can be used for customary purposes, whereas timber utilisation is more strictly regulated. Timber resources are far more problematic to allocate under PFM because of the economic interests of different stakeholders. It is often the case that customary rights recognised under modern legal systems do not include the utilisation of valuable timber tree species, which may be explicitly excluded from ‘customary rights’ through legal regulation. Given this situation, the terms ‘management right’ and ‘manager’ are used in this article to mean that local people participate in forest management or are allowed to manage and utilise the timber resources based on management agreements with the central government. This article focuses on participatory management of production forest areas, although there are also participatory forestry activities going on in protected and plantation forests in both Laos and Vietnam. Through interviews with local villagers, local and central government officers, local foresters and international consultants, and through an analysis of policy documentation, laws, project documents and consultancy reports, this article will approach the problem of the institutionalisation of PFM and also analyse the contingent social and economic processes accompanying the implementation of individual PFM projects. My research is influenced mainly by ethnographic observations of forest management and utilisation based on interviews; however, in Vietnam I also tested a household diary method: during one year eight case-study households collected various information related to forest management and their income generating activities. This data added to the understanding of forest management by local households and also contributed valuable information about household economies. Although my methodology


has been mainly based on interviews, I have also carried out participant observations while I was part of consulting teams or participating in meetings and discussions with aid practitioners. Anthropology has used similar ethnographic research approaches, for example to understand aid dynamic and analyse aid organisation (e.g. Mosse 2003; Sampson 2003; Stubbs 2004). In my current study I aim to look into the relationship between the local communities, national and local governments, and external funding agencies. PFM is a textbook example of forestry policies not always fitting the overall culture-political circumstances: the decentralised PFM approach has been integrated into the forestry sector of most developing countries for many years, but it still struggles with implementation and up-scaling. It is clear that decentralisation does not materialise automatically. Andersson (2003) argues that many individual local governments, especially in developing countries, lack the human and physical resources to be effective governors by themselves. My hypothesis is that local governments and local people can become effective forest mangers if central governments are committed to institutionalise a decentralised natural resources management model, and to build up the necessary human and physical resources in districts and individual villages within an enabling policy environment. The international donor community has recognised the failures of the past ‘one-size-fits-all’ policy prescriptions, and now claims that the old model has been replaced with country-tailored, locally owned, and participatory approaches that customise policies to fit local circumstances (Gould & Ojanen 2003; Gould 2004). In the forestry sector, this tendency has generated more projects related to the decentralisation


of natural resources, more integrated rural development programmes, and a gradual shift towards sector support programmes (Shepherd et al 1999; Mustalahti et al 2006). My current research has shown that sustainability of the donor-supported participatory forestry initiatives is a critical factor in Asia as well as in Africa. Currently the Institute of Development Studies at the University of Helsinki in Finland is undertaking a research programme, entitled ‘Does Finnish Aid Matter,’ assessing the impact of Finnish Aid. Under this umbrella research project, my study examines the practices and impact of participation in PFM through the local-level investigation of four participatory forestry cases: in Mozambique, Tanzania, Vietnam and Laos.

Case study in Laos Participatory Forest Management in Laos The involvement and specific roles of villagers in sustainable forest management are well defined in the existing laws and regulations of the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (LPDR), such as the Forest Law (1996), Forestry Strategy (2005), PM Decree No.59 (2002), MAF Regulation No. 0204 (2003), as well as in the National Growth and Poverty Eradication Strategy (2004). Villagers have been involved in PFM projects in Laos since the 1990’s. The first of these projects was the Joint Forest Management (JFM) approach introduced by the Lao Swedish Forestry Programme (LSFP). The basic concept of the JFM approach was that forest could be best managed in a sustainable manner if the government foresters and villagers who


live inside or close to the government-owned production forest areas jointly manage the forest. In this approach, the government forest department retains the management control of the forest and villagers are hired for various management operations (Makarabhirom & Raintree 1999). According to the Forest Law (1996), long-term rights for the use of natural forest can be allocated to individuals and organisations (Art. 5: 48-54). This law made it possible to develop another participatory forestry model featuring deeper involvement with the villagers. The Forest Management and Conservation Programme (FOMACOP) paid special attention to villager organisation-building and entrepreneurial development as well as the technical aspects associated with forest management carried out by villagers (Samountry et al 2001). FOMACOP was later praised as one of the most innovative village forestry programmes worldwide (Williams & Heinonen 1998; Phadanouvong 2002). This model of participatory forestry in Laos is a relatively unique example of the commercial utilisation of natural tropical forest. In 2006, the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certified two production forest areas. Currently, these are the only FSC-certified natural tropical forest areas in Southeast Asia. The FAO and RECOFTC included these two participatory production forest areas in Laos (Dong Phou Xoy and Dong Sithouane) in an assessment of models of excellent forest management areas in Asia. This assessment did recognise, however, that continued government support for village forestry in Laos is uncertain, especially given the possible revision of profit-sharing arrangements and inadequate legislation to specify and guarantee villagers’ legal rights to benefit from production forests (Durst et al 2005). LSFP and FOMACOP operated as pilot projects, and their participatory forestry models were thus not


immediately institutionalised as general operating procedures for the entire country. Nonetheless, it should be noted that the current Forest Sector Strategy (2005) has adopted an objective to bring wood production from production forest areas under sustainable management in cooperation with local communities. Furthermore, the best practices of LSFP and FOMACOP were incorporated into the current PFM project, Sustainable Forestry for Rural Development Project (SUFORD 2003-2008), which is now attempting to continue the institutionalisation process of participatory forestry. Also, village development is an important and integral part of the project design aimed at demonstrating that forestry could truly be a vehicle for rural development (Durst et al 2005). The SUFORD is financed by a World Bank loan, with grant cofinancing for the technical advisory component from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Finland. The FOMACOP participatory forestry model was based on 50-year contracts with villager organizations, village forest associations, and the provincial governments, which authorised villagers to manage state production forests in accordance with government-approved forest management plans. In exchange for these management services, villagers were authorised to retain net profits from timber sales, after paying government royalties, taxes, and other fees, as well as the labour costs incurred during village forest management activities. The village profits were then used to finance village development projects, for the benefit of all village residents (Samountry et al 2001). During FOMACOP the allocation of land for village forestry purposes was authorised under the Prime Ministerial Order titled “Instruction on the Continuation of Implementation Land Management and Forestland Allocation No.93/PM 1996” - which states that provinces, districts and special zones must develop


a system of forestland allocation in their own locality (Makarabhirom & Raintree 1999). Obviously, in 1996, it was considered that forests are not only national assets, but that the state can also contract forest management to villages or other juridical entities, such as state enterprises, joint ventures, collectives and individual citizens. Forests have been important sources of revenue for the Lao government, and in recent years have generated 35 to 45 per cent of export earnings, mainly from timber export (Poffenberg 1999). The Lao government, and especially the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, depends heavily on these forest revenues, which allow the national treasury to pay civil servant salaries and other expenses. Through the implementation of the FOMACOP model, villagers had access to valuable forest resources that helped them to develop their villages through the utilization of forest funds. When the funds were utilized directly at the village and district level, this had the political effect of partially decentralising the decisionmaking power over forestry income. Towards the end of FOMACOP, the concept of practising forestry in production forests through village organisations lost political support. It is interesting that the pilot model, which was praised as the best example of PFM, came to face resistance by some Lao decision-makers even though it was supposed to be developed into a national programme (Williams & Heinonen 1998; Makarabhirom & Raintree 1999; Samountry et al 2001). It is clear that there are different reasons behind the growing resistance to this approach, some hidden and others more openly discussed. During my interviews, both Lao nationals and foreign advisers pointed out that there are powerful vested interests in forestry and that the implications of the FOMACOP model were clearly realised by them; it is evident that the sawmills, owned by powerful businessmen, are


trying to stop the implementation of a new participatory model, which introduces auction prices and a new regulation that does not allow logging quotas to be directly allocated to sawmills. The expansion of participatory forestry practices and the implementation of the auction system for timber could increase competition among log buyers, most likely resulting in increased log prices. Existing processing capacity of the sawmilling industry in Laos is more than twice the sustainable level of wood supply from production forests (Phanthanousy & Sayakoummane 2005). Also, the military is involved in logging and has a major influence on national polices, wielding both economic and political power. For example, eight out of eleven members of the Politburo elected in 2001 were former or serving military officers (Stuart-Fox 2004). Ample evidence demonstrates that conventional forest management in Laos is unsustainable and that there is no likelihood that it can become sustainable under the system of allocating sawmills, army felling quotas, and logging areas without any law enforcement (Tropical Rainforest Programme 2000; Tsechalicha & Gilmour 2000). The 2004 Forest Strategy, page 18, identifies three major challenges to introducing improved and sustainable forest management: (a) limited capacity to produce forest management plans and ensure the quality of forest management plans; (b) limited enforcement of forest management plans, and; (c) limited monitoring and control of forest management activities. All of these challenges must be dealt with before the Lao PDR national community can benefit from forest management.


PFM as a vehicle for rural development in Laos? The main achievement of the FOMACOP pilot programme was the creation of a comprehensive village forestry model, encouraging the development of organisational capacity and commercial forestry in villages, which in turn stimulated economic and social development in the participating villages (Williams & Heinonen 1998). For example, the village of Som in the Dong Phou Xoy Production Forest Area in Khammouane Province, earned US$ 14 000 from competitive bidding for timber from their forest management area during the three years 1997-1999. The village managed to conduct several village development activities such as constructing a school, an electricity line, and a road in co-operation with the district council. In 2004, the village forest committee at Som used its funds to carry out a pre-harvest inventory together with provincial forestry authorities. In the financial year 2004-2005, Som village sold 228 m³ through the bidding process and received US$ 2038, which was 25% of the total bidding price. The village decided to use this money to establish a revolving fund able to offer financial support for families that are not independently rice-sufficient. These families can apply for paddy field expansion funding from the village development committee. The village also has other revolving funds from the SUFORD project that are mainly used by medium-income level families for livestock activities. During my interviews, some criticised the FOMACOP model due to fact that it offered benefits only to the villages situated close to the productive forests, where the logging was authorised. Other villages in less productive forest areas could not benefit from forest management and logging activities, or were left without involvement in participatory forestry


activities. This is a politically difficult situation in the country, where all villages are poor and the Lao PDR national community actually owns the land. The main task of the current participatory forestry project, SUFORD, is to facilitate and expand the participatory sustainable forest management system for the eight production forest areas. The state allows organised villages to manage production forests on its behalf, but with the assistance and control of government agencies. The justification made by the Lao authorities was that the government is concerned about the inequity among villages in the distribution of quality forestland, and wants to involve a wider group of people both in the management of commercial forest resources and in the sharing of the benefits from forestry activities. This will mean that several villages will share the income from the bidding process, and the ensuing benefits will thus be less tangible than those in the earlier example from Som village. According to current guidelines, management of production forest areas must be implemented jointly by several villages, their village forest committees or organisations (VFCs/VFOs), and district forest management units (FMUs). The improved control over forest resources by districts and villages could definitely increase revenue collection for the Treasury. Such an outcome, however, is only possible if villagers participate actively in forest management planning and decision-making on forest use and operations. This approach could be a way to ensure monitoring between the ‘manager’ (here district FMU) and the ‘partner’ (here VFC/VFO/group of VFOs). This model could increase transparency and accountability in the forestry sector. Nonetheless, the empowerment of FMUs as managers has its own risks in relation to the political cultures in districts. According to Stuart-Fox (2004), the political culture of districts first and foremost depends on


personal and family relationships – and much less on professional skills or election-based local government representation. Accordingly, such a political culture can lead to situations wherein villagers are used simply as labourers, and not as genuine partners whose priorities can influence decision-making. According to the MAF 0204/2003, the log royalty from the competitive sale of timber from production forest areas will be transferred to the Treasury. If the price of timber is higher than the level of government royalty, the additional revenue will be divided into two portions: (1) 30% of the total additional revenue shall be transferred to the national budget as additional national revenue and; (2) 70% of the total additional revenue shall be directed to the following funds: 20% to the forest development fund under Forestry Law Art. 47; 25% to cover the operational costs for the implementation of the annual work plan, and; 25% to local development funds utilised by villages located in production forest areas, the so-called sub-management areas. Other benefits for local people come from NTFPs, or from salaries if they are paid while they participate in forest management activities - for example, forest inventories organised by FMUs. Alternatively, they benefit through the national budget if some funds are allocated, for example, to local development activities. However, it could also be argued that current benefit-sharing regulations do not allow districts and villagers who participate in the forest management to obtain tangible benefits through timber sales. If we use the current government royalty rates, we can recognise that after the royalties and other central and local government portions are transferred, there is very little which could be shared with the several participating villages in the sub-management area. For example, in the 2004-2005 financial year 25% of the total log sales from the sub-management area called Som was US$


5536. The area includes six villages and, according to the current guidelines from MAF, benefits should be shared between these villages. This would mean that the villages would receive only US$ 923 each. However, this policy has not yet been implemented, and in 2006 only those villages where logging was actually authorised and carried out received log sale benefits. It seems that the bidding process and seasonal conditions constitute bottlenecks in the system: the sale price was very low in remote villages were the bidding process was carried out just before the rainy season, due to increased transportation costs and bad road conditions. In 2005, for example, in a village called Kok Tong, authorised logging of 391 m³ resulted in the village receiving only US$ 312, while in another village called Tha Hat authorised logging of only 333 m³ yielded US$ 2 628 for the village. According to local villagers the quality of timber was quite similar, but in the case of Kok Tong the bidding was organised later in the year. Who controls the front line management of Lao forests? During the FOMACOP pilot project the level of village control was improved and the village forest association members were trained to act as forest managers. The pilot project demonstrated how forests could be managed in a sustainable manner if allocated and demarcated to specified managers who were allowed to benefit from the forest resources - but who were also held accountable for their management performance. The FOMACOP model of participatory forestry has also shown that the implementation of forest management by villages can support the strengthening of village institutions, particularly village administration (Phathanousy & Sayakoummane 2005).


Compared with the FOMACOP model of participatory forestry, the current SUFORD model is quite different. Currently, the forest management units (FMUs) operating under the district administration have the responsibility to carry out production forest management on behalf of the central government. MAF Regulation no. 0204 states that the FMU will be the recognized state organisation under the district’s forestry office, and it will be responsible for sustainable management of the production forest areas of the district, with the participation of local villages. In article no. 9 the regulation also states that Provincial Agriculture and Forest Office (PAFO) shall coordinate with the District Agriculture and Forestry Extension Office (DAFEO) and with village level organisations referring to VFC, VFO and group of VFOs. Together these different governmental levels will prepare longterm (10-year), medium-term (5-year) and annual operational plans for each forest production area. Through a carefully structured participatory process, VFCs could be established as viable grass-root level institutions with knowledge, skills and incentives to implement technically sound forest management practices together with the district level FMUs, if senior government authorities were ready to release both sufficient funds and decision-making power to the district and village level. In this case the national government and its centralized forestry authorities could retain their function as policy-makers and the highest-level law enforcement authority. At the same time, it could be expected that the government budget would improve, because there would be reduced need for the expenditure of public finances in the villages for general development or forest management. The new SUFORD model aims to show political decision-makers that participatory forestry can benefit not only the few villages close to the forests but also other villages, by


means of benefit sharing agreements and the increased revenues made available to the national government budget. In future, the aim is that logging will be done according to approved forest management plans based on the participation of multi-stakeholders in forest management planning and consultation. However, the main question at the moment is who has the decisionmaking power in front line forest management? Or, more specifically, who has power over logging activities in any particular district? In the current system there is a risk that a ‘specified manager’ is not empowered. It is not yet very clear who is finally responsible for ensuring the sustainable management of production forests. For example, can districts decide to carry out less intensive logging if the provincial administration has decided to carry out more intensive logging of production forests? And if villages prioritise NTFPs, can VFC or VFO stop timber harvesting and concentrate the collection of NTFPs in production forests? It seems that participatory forestry is at the crossroads in Laos. It is still not clear whether the decentralisation of management will allow districts and local people to be more active participants in the decision-making process. If the FMU is the ‘specified manager’ of the forest, then the districts should have both the funds and the decision-making authority to carry out the forest management, and also be held accountable for their performance. Under the Forest Law (1996), forest management has transitioned from a relatively ‘top-down’ state-driven approach to a participatory approach, which is consistent with the government policy of decentralisation. The future will show how this decentralisation will actually be implemented.


Case study in Vietnam The Forestry Sector in Vietnam The Vietnam Forestry Development Strategy (20012010) states the following environmental, economic and social objectives: (a) to protect the environment, including biodiversity conservation and water supply functions, and reaching 43 per cent forest coverage by 2010; (b) to contribute to the national economy and achieve US$ 2.5 billion from exported products by 2010; and (c) to have 6-8 million people employed in the forestry sector. The government has adopted a number of key policies to promote this strategy, including a more sustainable natural resource management. In July 1998, the Tenth National Assembly of Vietnam approved the Five Million Hectare Reforestation Programme (5MHFP), which was supposed to facilitate the reforestation and rehabilitation of five million hectares of forestland, so that by 2010 the total forested area of the country could reach 14.3 million hectares (equivalent to 43 per cent forest cover). The five million hectares would restore forest cover to the level of 1943, and in line with this ambitious target the government and donors agreed to develop a partnership to support the 5MHFP. The 5MHRP has not served as an overall forestry sector policy but rather as a national investment programme that provides financing for forestry activities. Subsequently, this partnership was broadened in 2001 to become the Forest Sector Support Program and Partnership (FSSP&P). On-going efforts to develop the FSSP&P aim to improve donor coordination and to make more effective use of national and international resources for forestry sector development (MARD 2001). Between 2004 and 2006,


efforts have been ongoing to prepare a new National Forest Strategy (NSF) to cover the period 2006-2020, as well as to propose changes in the implementation of the 5MHRP for the final five-year period. In Vietnam, changes at the policy and field level have supported the involvement of local people in forest management. For example, the 1993 Land Law gave local people extensive use-rights over agricultural and forested land. If the rights of access, withdrawal, management, exclusion and alienation (Schlager & Ostrom 1992) are used to analyse the degree of community forestry, however, Vietnam is still far from the degree of community participation in forest management that would make the local people the decision-makers over valuable forest resources. Fritzen (2002) concludes that incentives for bureaucratic actors and local leaders to transfer meaningful control downwards are weak or non-existent within the current governance structure, with its centralised political power and emphasised hierarchical and sectoral controls over decision-making and resources. However, Vietnam offers good possibilities to research the implementation of PFM at the household level, as well as the wider aspects of livelihood resource management. In general, household level forestry is highly relevant to Vietnam’s forestry strategies in terms of its potential contribution to both environmental protection and poverty reduction. To the extent that activities are truly participatory, they contribute to the goals of enhancing democracy and good governance. Insofar as forestry activities lead to the harvesting, processing and marketing of forest products, they also contribute to the objectives of enhancing economic interaction and trade.


Household level forestry in Vietnam The overall developmental objective of the VietnamFinland Forestry Sector Co-operation Programme (VinFinFor) was to contribute to sustainable rural development in Vietnam’s mountainous regions through the integration of forestry activities in rural land-use and economic development. The introduction of secure land tenure has encouraged households to manage forestlands in a more sustainable manner (Williams et al 2001). It has been argued by other forestry projects in Vietnam that the impact of forestry activities could be economically more significant if households worked to a greater degree through collective actions. Some participatory forestry projects in Vietnam have implemented PFM models, which imply that several households carry out forest management together in order to improve forest protection, management, and marketing, which are all more difficult to address for individual households (Sikor & Apel 1998). Even in these cases, the prices of forest products have remained low because of the price norms set by the forest enterprises. In most cases forest products are sold to local factories or sawmills, which are run by forest enterprises owned by the central government. Often the villagers lack marketing skills and information, and they are dependent on local customers or ad hoc markets. The VinFinFor programme (1999-2003) was very active in assisting local authorities in the land and forestland allocation process, which was considered a precondition for the success of the programme, particularly in the areas of environmental protection, forest management and poverty reduction. The programme was not only concerned with the management of allocated forestlands, but also with broader rural development and farm forestry issues in


two districts in Bac Kan Province. Given the forest sector’s long-term horizon, investment in forestry requires security of land tenure. Since 1993, when the Land Law and the Decree 02/CP regarding the allocation of forestland was ratified, Bac Kan Province has been generally considered to have been successful in its allocation of forests and land to family households for the long-term and sustainable use of forestry practices (Vu 2001). Furthermore, the participatory land use planning method (LUP) used in Bac Kan has been tested in various Vietnam-based international projects and is considered to be one of the best practices nation-wide (Nguyen et al 2005). The aim of the LUP method is to emphasise the balance between agriculture and forestland in order to ensure that local people not only have a sufficient area of land for food crops but also maintain the necessary forest cover for supplying water to rivers, streams and lakes. The plans could also provide information for the development of local production and income generating agriculture and forestry activities. The impact of land allocation and the issuance of tenure certificates, Red Books, are likely to have a major impact on changes in the prevailing attitudes in the villages. Before 1993, forestlands had been allocated to households without sufficient legal security, and forested areas were under so-called Green Book registration. The current land allocation policy allows the distribution of forestland to individual households with certificates lasting up to 50 years. With the Red Book certificates, farmers have more secure land tenure rights, which encourage investments in forestry. In the Ngoc Phai commune a household head, from the Dao ethnic group, presented the issue as follows: “I have experienced that our forest area is improving. The forest used to be upland cultivation areas cleared by my parents. Now there is a


lot of bamboo available and we are carefully looking after our forest since we got the land allocation”. Historically, the Dao, ‘the people of the forest’, were primary producers of upland rice, but they also cultivated maize and cassava (Castella & Dang Dinh, 2002). This ethnic minority is still called “the people of the forest” for the reason that they have always lived close to forests and had a good knowledge of forest products such as medicinal plants. It is important to recognise that the transition of the Dao from being shifting cultivators towards being forest managers has been a long process, regulated by the forest protection laws. However, based on my interviews I must still argue that more secure land tenure has also encouraged households to manage forestlands in a more sustainable way, which certainly contributes to overall environmental protection. The households in the VinFinFor Programme areas have also been the target of an extensive training and extension campaign. The agro-forestry trials established by the Programme in collaboration with the Mountain Agrarian Systems Programme (SAM), which has been working in Bac Kan since 1998, focused on finding alternatives and economic solutions to slash-and-burn cultivation through rapid soil restoration using appropriate crops or intercropping. It should be noted that production forest areas can be used for agro-forestry, but cannot be converted into up-land rice cultivation or other type of mono cropping. In protected forest areas, however, all types of agricultural production and timber harvesting are forbidden. According to inventories carried out by Provincial authorities, the forest cover in the Cho Don District increased by four per cent between 1997 and 2003 (from 63% to 67%). In 2001, it was realised that shifting cultivation practices had been reduced and that households previously engaged in slash-and-burn


techniques have established permanent farms (VinFinFor 2001). Castella and Dang Dinh (2002) estimated that farming landscapes in Táy villages had reached a sustainable balance, while the environmental degradation around the Dao villages had been aggravated by a large-scale return to slash-and-burn systems. It is important to recognise that growing population pressure makes the number of lowland paddy fields insufficient to current needs, and that farmers need to have more alternative fields.

No forestry without poverty reduction in Vietnam According to the project advisers and implementers, it was already recognised at the beginning of the first phase of VinFinFor that villagers can only participate in the sustainable management of forest resources when there are adequate alternatives for income generation, and poverty reduction has been established. During the second phase, VinFinFor aimed to address the core problems of rural poverty, which contributes to the unsustainable management of forestlands and forest resources. The Programme aimed to reduce poverty through contribution to the long-term improvement of rural livelihoods and sustainable forest management. In the second phase, activities were broadened even further to put increased emphasis on improving agricultural production (Williams et al 2001). During project implementation several strategic changes were made, and instead of using one large credit programme for forestry activities, the project decided to implement a credit scheme through the Women Union (WU), thereby defining poor women as target clients. The mid-term review revealed that by


expanding the initial credit programme for long-term investments in reforestation and forest management with large loan amounts, the programme resulted in unintended consequences (VinFinFor 2001). A poor farmer, who does not have other sources of income to pay back the loan, may run into debt. With the resulting bad credit history, he is then unable to access other credit schemes for production and income generation purposes. The WU, a mass organisation promoting women’s rights, health and business opportunities, is structured to implement the micro credit scheme (Bui Mihn 2003). WU’s performance is better, especially in reaching the poorest of the poor (Mekong Economics 2003), than the other operator, the Bank for the Poor (VBP), which tends to serve big investors and better-off households. Loans granted through the WU channel are generally only for small-scale investments, such as goats and agricultural tools and the establishment of new paddy fields. When interviewed, Ngoc Phai commune households reported that these loans were the most important reason why their economic situation had improved during the previous five years. The WU loans had given them opportunities to acquire new income generating activities. In Bac Kan Province, household level forestry is also expected to contribute to the development of an effective approach to rural poverty reduction. Especially in the case of the Dao, allocation of forestland has secured their property right and improved their household economy. For example, they can use the land tenure certificates to acquire loans, and this has given them the chance to purchase permanent properties and buy lowland paddy fields from the Táy ethnic group. Unfortunately, in some cases the land certificates, so-called Green Books, have been taken back from


households by the government forest protection authorities, which are now converting these areas to serve as protected forest areas. The VinFinFor supported the implementation of the protected forest classification, but unfortunately it did not complete the process, and the forest protection department in the district has not had funds to finish the fieldwork related to protection classifications. The land use planning was carried out before the classification of critical forest protection areas by the forest protection department. Because of this, some forestland areas have been occupied and planted by farmers who now cannot harvest their agro-forestry crop and forest products because the areas are designated as protected, rather than production forests, according to the protection department. Legally, in the case of land loss to protected forest areas the household should get the so-called protection agreement contract, which identified the compensation to be paid to them. The 5MHFP with its predecessor programme (Programme 327) was supposed to allocate the funds to compensate the farmers’ conservation efforts. Thus far only a few households in Ngoc Phai have protection agreement contracts and have received compensation funds, amounting to 3 US$ per hectare. In Ngoc Phai my case study households hold one to ten hectares of protected forest, which means that the annual compensation should be 3 to 30 US$ per household. According to the households, their main motivation for protection is production of NTFPs, which can be collected from the protected forest areas. For example, in 2005 all case study households received additional income and supplementary food security from forest products. They primarily sold bamboo to a chopstick company and a paper factory owned by the forest enterprises, and used other NTFPs for their own home-use or sold them in local markets. In 2005, one


of the case study households managed to earn 160 US$ by selling bamboo from their 4.7 hectares of protected forest. This was a relatively good income opportunity for the household, considering that in the Ngoc Phai commune the average yearly income per household is 830 US$. According to my observations in the Ngo Phai commune, it seems that forests are well protected when forest products provide some additional income for households in comparison to agriculture production. In Cho Don District the households have planted an additional 500 hectares of bamboo in their forestlands to be used by a paper factory. Villagers have a real expectation that in the future forestland can generate a reasonable income for the households. Unfortunately, the price of bamboo, for example, is still very low and individual households do not have options to negotiate prices, which are regulated by forest enterprises owned by the central government.

Discussion It cannot be denied that pilot projects for participatory forestry are experiencing difficulties with up-scaling from externally funded donor schemes. In most cases, where development co-operation projects are under pressure to fulfil the political objective of power devolution and show demonstrable success, dealing with institutionalisation beyond the geographical area under immediate project influence becomes a serious strain. It is easier to achieve concrete results in specified actions during a limited time period than to actually build up capacity in local institutions and to ensure a general institutionalisation of the PFM model.


A study of experiences from the Social Forestry Development Project in Song Da in Vietnam concluded that while community-based forestry requires specific approaches, this does not mean that forestry has to be reinvented by the projects (Apel 1998). Conventional forest management practices and already existing local institutions should serve as a basis for implementation, but a shift is required away from focusing on the forest resources and their production potential towards stressing the needs and capacity of the local communities (Persson 2003; White & Mustalahti 2005). This is a demanding task in Laos and Vietnam, not only because of the lack of technical forest management capacity, but also because of the lack of an enabling policy environment. Working through the existing institutions in order to increase local capacity is often difficult, because many of the basic concepts of grass roots democracy as commonly defined in Western societies, such as good governance, participation, and the development of civil society, are still extremely sensitive issues in Laos and Vietnam. One lesson learnt all over the world is that the establishment of PFM areas is generally a long and slow process, which depends on the political-economic context in each country (Apel 1998; Ribot 1999a; Ribot 2004), and perhaps fifteen to twenty years will be required to effectively address local concerns and priorities (White & Mustalahti 2005). A senior government authority in Laos expressed how difficult it is to change the political, socio-economic, and cultural settings during the limited time-span of a typical project: “We can only lift 100 kg but have been "asked" to lift 500 kg...We need the time to build our muscles before we can be asked to flex them...” It is obvious, that participatory processes are timeconsuming, and that they need piloting as well as external funding. An additional reason for the slow up-


scaling of PFM may be the inefficiency of individual donor-supported projects. The fragmented donor support in forestry, often resulting in projects financed by only one donor, is recognised to be less engaged in policy dialogue in the forestry sector (Ministry for Foreign Affairs of Finland 2003). Project support, which has been the main way of delivering aid in the past, was often based on a situation where bilateral negotiations ruled the process of aid-delivery and donor co-ordination between the different donors in the sector often did not exist (Mustalahti et al 2006). In Vietnam, now moving towards a sector approach in forestry, the partners – donors and recipient governments – have started sharing information on their activities and hopefully will better understand their socio-economic and culture-political differences. This process may eventually lead to more complete information on the sector. More adequate information in turn enables unified programming in the forestry sector, where the development partners allocate resources based upon a single policy and expenditure framework (European Commission 2003). There is also a need in Laos for this type of coordinated assistance in the forestry sector, to allow the long-term development of existing institutions through the government’s own channels. Nonetheless, it should not be forgotten that such sector support entails the risk of focusing effort on the principles of donor coordination and designing new financial systems and other ‘macro issues’, rather than getting things done at the local level where the forest and people are situated (Mustalahti et al 2006). My study in the Cho Don District in Vietnam and Khammouane Province in Laos showed that villagers need long-term forestry extension services in order to generate income from forestry. In 2001, the Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs (MFA) reviewed the


performance of Finnish development assistance to Vietnam. That evaluation team already recognised the concern over the long term-term financial viability of the existing village extension agent system in Bac Kan Province (Williams et al 2001). The Finnish-supported project established an extension network at the village level. Agro-forestry models were introduced to the farmers, and a number of farmers were supported by the project so that they could carry out activities on their own land. The village extension network was created and trained by the project, and these people worked very efficiently during the project’s existence. However, the extension workers considered themselves as project staff members: they were paid by the project and they worked for the project, so when the project ended they did not carry on with their work. Since then, the district and commune authorities have not had the time or funds to take over the extension work. This example shows that a project with a limited life-cycle period and external funding can be very effective, but in the end may turn out to be unsustainable. Unfortunately, because of the short funding period of Finnish support for VinFinFor, the project life-cycle in Vietnam was too short to result in the institutionalisation of demand-driven extension services. The result is that extension services in Vietnam are still mainly based on the priorities of the central and local governments, and are not demanddriven, based on the farmers’ needs. Since 1986, many State laws and policies in Vietnam have directly impacted how democratic practices are implemented in that society, including the Decree 29/ND-CP of 11 May, 1998 promulgating the regulation of the exercise of democracy in communes, and the Prime Ministerial Instruction 24/CT in 1998 on the elaboration and implementation of village and hamlet conventions. Nonetheless, only government-


legalised official mass organisations such as the Women’s Union, Youth Union and Farmers Association are allowed to function in rural areas. This is the primary reason why the project in Bac Kan Province did not encourage the households to establish so-called Forest Owners’ Associations, although the idea was to address the clear need for organising households in order to negotiate prices and to jointly harvest and market forest products. Kerkvliet et al (2003) have also recognised that if farmers want to form an association among themselves, totally separate from the official Farmers’ Association, in order to voice their concerns and criticisms about government policies, they are unlikely to succeed in the present environment. For example, due to government direct involvement in forest enterprises there are still practically no possibilities for farmers to set the price for their own forest products, or to claim payments for protection activities that should be compensated by government. The Vietnamese government has adopted a number of key policies over the past two decades to promote more participatory and sustainable natural resource management. According to the new Land Law 2003, a village community is an entity to which the state can allocate land. The revised Forest Protection and Development Law (2004) makes it legally possible for forestland to be allocated to village communities, with specific rights and responsibilities (Nuyen et al 2005). The allocation of forestland with Red Book certificates has likewise improved the security of legal tenure user rights to forest resources for local people. Now that this legal issue has been addressed, the next challenge is to guarantee the best possible implementation of sustainable forest management. Vietnam is facing a serious problem of deforestation and degradation of forests. The underlying causes of this situation include increased population pressure,


especially in rural areas, rural poverty, and also the lack of an appropriate legal framework of law enforcement, as well as the capacity to ensure forest protection. These issues are being addressed through current work to develop guidelines and a legal decree to guide implementation of community forestry, as well as the development of a new National Forest Strategy (NFS 2006-2020), which is placing particular emphasis on sustainable forest management. During my interviews in Laos, I recognised that the political and vested interests are not the only forces behind resistance to participatory forestry. It was argued that indigenous knowledge is not sufficient to ensure proper forest management in the production forest areas where the logging is economically important for the country. In the participatory forest management pilot areas, donor-supported projects managed to develop forest management plans and make sure that villagers had solid know-how to carry out the management and sustainable utilisation of resources. Laos is currently in the process of up-scaling participatory commercial forestry to 6.2 million hectares of production forest management area. This effort will require substantial investment in extension and training on all levels of forest governance and management. Furthermore, it must be remembered that some of the main causes of forest loss and degradation in Laos are shifting cultivation, encroachment by farmers into forested areas, and uncontrolled fires, i.e. not only commercial logging by sawmill owners and the army (Fröberg et al 1990; Poffenberg 1999). From an ethical point of view, I could provocatively ask whether it is rational to carry out the decentralisation of natural resources management by donor funds, when the government is not ready to commit to the decentralisation of decision-making


power and national ownership of land and valuable resources for local people. The implementation of PFM as pilot projects can lead to the situation where the local people are left with many expectations, but real long-term improvements in their livelihoods are not forthcoming. It could be said that local communities in participatory forestry pilot areas are acting as the guinea pigs of donor-supported decentralisation experiments. Raising a critical point, one of the Lao nationals interviewed for this study posed the question: “How many armies of consultants and how much foreign taxpayers’ money is needed before the local people are trained and brain washed to be economically oriented forest managers?” In Laos the terminology of ‘participatory sustainable forest management’ has a different meaning depending on whom you talk to. The key question is who should have the decision-making power in front line forest management? The tension between the donors and the recipient government comes when donors aim to ensure the decentralisation of decisionmaking power and to empower the local people, while the recipients are not ready for it because of the political environment. It can be easily argued that the government can help a wider group of villagers through the Treasury if forest management is effectively organised by the government itself, with the villagers contributing their labour. However, it may be questioned whether villagers have a legitimate right to be more than hired forestry labourers, and receive something more than wages alone in return for their input. A lesson learnt from Laos and Vietnam is that the first important step towards participatory forestry is to agree on the level of participation that the different stakeholders aim for: who should be the decisionmakers over the forest resources and decide on the


extent of logging activities? Should the government retain decision-making power, with the villagers remaining beneficiaries through financial transfers from the government or as labourers for the government forest service or timber companies? Or should it be the villagers living next to the forest areas who are the decision-makers, those who are often highly dependent on forest resources and harmed by heavy logging activities? Unfortunately, the current situation in Vietnam and Laos is that it seems to be the powerful business people who have power over the timber resources, because they can easily pay their way through the weak forest governance (Lague 2003; Lang 2003; McElwee 2004; Barney 2005). Under the current circumstances of weak forest governance, it is unrealistic to expect that the Lao and Vietnam national community should trust that law enforcement officials follow the rules and are immune to bribery and rent seeking. Participatory forestry is at the crossroads in Laos and Vietnam. The future will show how these countries will implement their new participatory and decentralised forestry management models. Quaghebeur et al (2004) have argued that real participation can generate contestations, discussion, struggle and negotiation about the framework offered by participatory approach: “In this sense we are able to re-consider the success and failure of participatory approaches, not so much in terms of the effectiveness of their application, but rather in terms of the possibility to refuse their government”. A key question related to the participatory initiatives in Laos and Vietnam is whether the government and party leaders are ready to allow this type of critical political statement to be articulated by local people. More importantly, are the political leaders ready to establish a formal system according to which local communities


can effectively hold their governments accountable to agreements on rights and responsibilities to forest resources and forest products? If this is possible, then ‘country tailored’ PFM models could contribute to the country’s overall socio-economic and political development.

Conclusions In order to support participatory forestry, the first step is to decide on who is the ‘specified manager’ of forest areas. Hereafter the manager needs to be empowered with three essential tools: (1) decision-making power; (2) financial independence and; (3) access to forest extension services. The institutionalisation of decentralised forest management may be completed if there is a sustainable extension system to support ‘new forest managers’ to carry out PFM activities. In Laos, the government has decided in favour of the decentralised model of management of production forest areas, but has not yet fully implemented it. The government itself, not only the donor agencies, must be committed to this decision. The future will show how FMUs, the new managers of production forests, will be empowered, and how much power over the forest resources the local people can actually exercise. In Vietnam, the ‘specified managers of forest’ clearly includes the local communities and households, but the problem is that these managers lack the abovementioned three essential tools. If the local people do not possess these tools they cannot obtain tangible benefits from the forest. My interviews in Bac Kan Province found that people are very much marketoriented, and their livelihood strategies depend on


several income generating activities in their farms. They will not be able to use their time for forestry activities unless the benefits are equal to, or greater than, their opportunity costs. In other words, poor people simply cannot afford to spend their time on forestry activities if their net output is negative. Through my studies in Laos and Vietnam, as well as others in Tanzania and Mozambique, I have learnt that farmers focus their attention on primary economic activities and agronomic processes, whereas nature and particularly forest conservation is prioritised only if these activities provide concrete livelihood services. To avoid ‘the blueprint development solutions’, communication and close cooperation between partner countries, different donor agencies, researchers and policy-makers are necessary when the main intention is to achieve the best possible final outcome in the development process. Participatory forestry does not always fit the overall culture-political circumstances: it might not be necessary to target the latest handbook techniques of participation and decentralisation, but rather to emphasise a common understanding of local politics and recipient government interests, so as to take a more committed approach to participation. The donor-supported projects can aim to build up the capacity of central and local governments to implement a participatory forest policy, and to ensure that villagers would be expected to play a more significant role than that of hired forestry labourers, and to receive more than wages alone in relation to their physical input. The donors cannot drive the activities if there is no political commitment from recipient governments and their leaders. In principle, the recipient government and their political decision-makers should politically and financially support the ideology of decentralised natural resources management, and be ready to ensure the


long-term financial sustainability of extension services focused on facilitating ‘new forest managers’ to carry out the related activities. If this political commitment is not there at the early stage of a donor-supported project, there is a risk that the initiatives introduced in pilot projects will not be continued after external funding has been exhausted. Accordingly, it is important to make clear political analyses before the donor funding is released. The political environment and government structures need time to develop. If donors are serious in their desire to be development partners with countries like Vietnam and Laos, and to assist them in creating a model of decentralised natural resources management that fits local conditions, they must be ready to enter into longterm partnerships.

Acknowledgements I would like to acknowledge the Academy of Finland and NorFA, which financed this study. Thanks are due to Prof. Juhani Koponen at the Institute of Development Studies and Prof. Finn Helles, Associate Prof. Thorsten Treue, and fellow PhD students at the Danish Center for Forest, Landscape and Planning for supervision and comments during the research and writing process, and to Savcor-Indufor Consulting as well as project staff and government authorities in Laos and Vietnam for facilitation during the collection of information. Especially, I would like to thank Dr. Paula Williams and Dr. Marko Katila. I am also grateful to the villagers and case study households in Vietnam and Laos. In particular, I would like to thank my research assistants in Laos and Vietnam.


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236

237

LIST OF APPENDICE

Appendix 1: Traditionally protected forest types of the Zigua ethnic group divided into two categories. Appendix 2: Traditionally protected forests of the Soloni clan in Mkata village, Tanzania. Appendix 3: Framework for Sustainable Livelihoods Approach.

Category I) Forests with supernatural, ritual, spiritual and sacred elements

traverse

felling

farming

gathering grazing

lodging

1) Rainmaking forest

No

no

No

no

No

No

1a) Figure forest for timing of the rainmaking ritual

No

no

No

no

No

No

No

No

1b) Sacred sacrifice

hunting

forest

hunting/

for No

no

No

only ritual

2) Training forest of boys

No

no

No

no

No

No

2a) Bath forest for boy trainees

collecting

no

No

collecting

No

No

3) Bath forest for girl trainees

collecting

no

No

collecting

No

No

4) Koluhombwa

No

no

No

no

No

No

5a) The firstcomer site

No

no

No

no

No

No

6a) Boundary forests with ritual sites with neighbouring clan or clans No

no

No

no

No

No

Category II) Functional forests protected for the needs of the community

traverse

felling

farming

gathering grazing

lodging

5) Tongo

Yes

selective

Yes

yes

Yes

yes

5b) Tongo without a burial site

Yes

selective

Yes

yes

Yes

yes

7) Hiding forest

Yes

no

No

yes

Yes

yes

8) Forests for councils or courts

Yes

no

No

yes

Yes

no

6) Boundary forests

Yes

selective

No

yes

No

no

9) Herbarium

selective

selective

No

yes

No

no

10) Springs, water sources

Yes

selective

No

yes

Selective

no

11) Compensation forest

Yes

owner clan

No

yes

Selective

owner clan

12) Forest causing rains

Yes

no

No

yes

Yes

No

selective

elders' rule

Yes

elders' rule

hunting/

13) Forest reserves for future farming Yes

yes

Table 1. Traditionally protected forest types of the Zigua ethnic group divided into two categories: I) Forests with supernatural, ritual, spiritual and sacred elements. II) Functional forests protected for the needs of the community. The columns show the activities that can or cannot take place in the different types of forests.

ID Name

Traditional Condition use

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest

The forest Border is cleared forest for Soloni, Bamila, & Mnenga and meeting place with ritual

-

Mbuyu tree

-

1

Komnamba

2

Kwediguba

Border and hiding forest and observation place, bath for girls after training. Ritual making on the Bamila side.

Forests in the Bamila side are more significant than on the Soloni side. The valley forest is traditionally protected.

Size (and Special former size) (It was about 40 ha.)

Surrounded by cultivation; the border between two clans is beside the cliff.

Two seven metre deep giant’s kettles side by side, called Purambili; it is also a border between the Soloni and Bamila clans

The climate in the valley is favourable for tall evergreen trees between the three hills.

(It was 20 ha) Now 19.5 ha In the map only the Soloni side is seen. The Bamila side is three times bigger than the Soloni side.

Three branches of the mbuyu tree show the direction of the borders of the three clans. Three hills one on the Soloni side and two in Bamila. The forest and the site with hills are attractive and have eco-tourism potential. Total area

Caretaker

Clans are taking care of the remaining border tree.

Village of Mkata on the Soloni side and village of Mazingara on the Bamila side.

of the border forests is 77 ha.

Mazasa 3

Tongo graves

Narrow forest still exists around the former fields. Since 1999 the forests have diminished.

Cultivated lands all around

Graves

Secondary forests

1 ha still forest (It was about 15 ha.)

The people whose grandfathers and fathers are buried there are complaining to the cultivators who are clearing the forest. About 8 families lived there until 1975.

The descendants of the buried have started recultivation to protect the existing forests and graves.

ID Name

4

Koluhombwa

Tradition al use

Condition

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest

Destroyed, taken recently to maize On the other side cultivation. of the clan Deep narrow border ridge with there is valleys. also Koluhombwa of the neighbouring clan. It is also a deep valley.

Not clear

Deep valleys and ridges.

There were still some very tall trees beside the fields.

Koluhom bwa

Size and Special (former size) In 1992, the CCM (It was chairman about 10 gave ha) permission for cultivator, newcomer from the neighbourin g clan. The farmer did not remember if there was discussion about the Koluhombwa that time.

Caretaker

The leader of the traditional committee said that all existing graves and ritual sites should be protected also in Koluhombwa.

5

Kwedifume

Tongo, graveyard for 25 people, allowed for all people in isi..

Three new houses built on the border. One traditional two-storey circular house on the west side of the forest. Such a building it is very rare nowadays.

Cultivated all around also traditionally. People moved into the village centre during the villagisation although very near the centre.

Graves with Small thick pieces of forest. clay pots on the surface.

0.5 ha (It was about 2 ha)

The caretaker was taken to court about disturbance of the new house construction. One house was recently abandoned because the builder realised it was built on human bones.

Eearlier elders protected a bigger forest, but officials wanted to cultivate the land. The caretaker took the case to court but was told that all land belongs to the state.

ID Name

Tradition al use

Condition

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest

Komkunga (lost area)

Tambiko, Rainmaking, a female impala was needed from the Nkanta forest for ritual.

Valleys are cultivated and trees are cut for timber. Only the four ritual sites are still forested. These sites are marked with an X on the map.

Lost. Only the ritual site is still intact.

Thick, surrounded by cultivation.

A big rock in the ritual site.

6 x

ritual site (on map)

Size and (former size)

(It was about 85 ha)

Special

Care-taker

One woman had appropriated the ritual site for cultivation. There were lots of snakes and after she left no one has cultivated there.

Elders decided that after the harvest, the fields must be left alone. (Nothing had changed in 2003.)

x

Nkanta ritual site

Tambiko Female impala was hunted in this forest and sacrificed on the Komgunga ritual site.

Still forested on the ritual site.

Small forest Thick, around the surrounded ritual site. by cultivated areas.

Big rock in the ritual site.

1.8 ha (was 30 ha)

The ritual site was earlier part of the big Komkunga forest.

The clan Last ritual of forgiveness in 1994.

ID Name

x

Tradition al use

Condition

Borders

Cave/rock

Forest

Kwafuta

Ritual site

or

Meeting place

Around the rock there is still tall and thick forest.

A school is beside the forest and a house beside the ritual site.

Big rock, and there have been also snakes. Water pool and spring in front of the cave and the rock.

Around the 0.6 ha rock there is still tall and thick forest. (The ritual site was earlier part of the big Komkunga forest.)

Kwampungi or simply Mpungi

There were three about 1.5 feet- high clay figures called Nkanta, Kwakumbulu and Soloni. They advised the rainmakers to know when it was the

One side borders the road. The edge was very thick still in 1999, but in 2003 the ritual site became visible.

Size and former (size)

Special

Caretaker

Figures’ heads were covered with rivets. The heads were oiled and if they were wet after one hour it was possible to get rain even the same day. The rain ritual was done in Komkunga or in Nkata.

Clan? The village council of Mkata east? Neighbours ?

right time for the rain ritual.

x

Chogawali or Mwaliko

Part of the High plant species boys’ initiation diversity. training. Bathing place for boys coming from Kwabutu forest on the way to Kwedijeleza for exams. Herbarium.

Herbalist lives beside the forest, which is also his herbarium. He is using over 100 herbs in his practice and over 80 of them he finds in this forest.

A pool, 5 metres long and one metre wide in the rock.

Only a small forest around the rock pool, but high species diversity.

0.4 ha (The ritual site was earlier part of the big Komkunga forest.)

The herbalist also treats his patients in this forest. The patients spend variable periods of time there. Patients come from all around the country.

Herbalist lives beside the forest.

ID Name

7

Kwedigeleza

Tradition al use

Condition

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest

tambiko la mwaliko, ritual and training for men.

The hill is now open and cleared of all trees.

There is a house near the hill. The areas around the hill are cultivated.

On the top of the hill there are big stones that form a cave. The cave was a place for drums and for ritual of the mwaliko spirit.

Earlier there were mpingo trees, now all have been cut.

Cultivated areas

-

-

Also called a university for men.

8

(Maseyo) Part of the Cultivated, forest ID fertile (lost 9. valley land area) Traditionally not allowed to cut trees.


(It was about 20 ha.)

Lost area about 10 ha

Special

Caretaker

There were educational objects, such as an airplane which were used in exams. The airplane pre-dates the arrival of the Portuguese and Arabs.

-

Elders wanted to reforest the area, but nothing has happened.

-

9 x

Ritual forest Sekulunyondo with a big ritual site python snake (now dead). The ritual maker died with out transferring his knowledge. Last communal ritual was 1975. Maseyo

Cultivated Even a areas and a charcoal road. kiln near the road. Very poor looking cuttings on the cliff. The ritual site is full of sale plant around the hill.

High and long rock with a precipice surrounded by tall forest. Cave where the python lived.

The remaining forests are tall, stratified and important for colobus monkeys.

30 ha

The committee of elders has started to educate the descendant of the former ritualmaker. One of the most important TPFs for biodiversity .

Village. Elders committee? In 2003 more trees were cut. Black and white colobus monkeys were not found any more.

ID Name

10

Tradition al use

Kwabutu Boys’ training forest. Tongo with graves

Condition

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest


In 1997, the mkomba tree was cut for timber, it fell on the sacred mkwaju tree. Thus, it was necessary to cut the sacred tree to get the mkomba. The girth was about 3 meters.

There were some clearings on the border near the house outside the forest. The circular shaped forest is surrounded by cultivated lands.

Graves were under the cut trees.

Thick border edge; tall trees cut.

0.1 ha

Special

A long time ago the (Formerly, about 1.5 ha forest was related to the boys’ initiation.

Caretaker

Clan

11

(Kwamg o) Kwambuzi

Sacred, a small pond, which changes colour from red to green.

The forest around the pond has been cut by newcomers, but also by the secretary of the traditional committee.

Not seen any more.

Pond about There are 25 metres in farms in the diameter. forest.

(Formerly about 50 ha.)

A long time ago someone cut a tree beside the pond. They heard a voice, which came from nowhere: “Leave something for me”.

The traditional committee’s secretary wants to replant these forests with fastgrowing trees to provide shade for the soil and for the pond.

ID Name

12

Tradition al use

Border forest and a hiding forest Inside between Kwamum Mkata and e is Kwedihuo Magam- villages. bazi Given to the On the Magamba side of clan (30 Kwamume is km away Kwadu- from Mkata) as howa a compenKwamume

sation. Given to the man who killed a maneating

Condition

Borders

Cave/ rock

Forest

Intact, more miombo than evergreen forest.

Borders are not clear. The forests are part of the large evergreen forests.

-

About 70 ha There have Climber lianas, been houses mfungang´o for hiding. mbe

Gentle slope, some stumps

Forest hill


Special

Elders gave this hill to a respected man who killed the man-eating lion. “It is not TPF.”

Caretaker

Village (gov.) Selective tree cutting is allowed.

lion.

Kwakala 13

14

Border forest between three clans

Masuwin For or Kwa- clouds and rain kimeleformation meta

Intact

Borders are not clear. The forests are part of the large evergreen forests.

-

Intact

Borders are vague

-

Intact, closed forests

About 45 ha Clans: Village Soloni, Bamila, and Dugwa

About 45 ha Valley

Village

(5 ha)

Table 2. Traditionally protected forests of the Soloni clan in Mkata village: their names, use, condition, borders, size and caretakers. The numbers refer to the type of forest presented on the map in Figure 2 (p. 41). A= mkwazu and B= mkuyu are traditionally protected border trees marked on the map of Mkata.

Livelihood Assets H Context of Vulnerability

Transforming structures and processes

S N Influence & access

trends shocks seasonality P

F

H S F N

= = = =

public and private organisations institutions legislation policies

Livelihood Strategies

Livelihood outcomes

Human capital P = Physical capital Social capital Financial capital Natural capital

Figure 1. Framework for Sustainable Livelihoods Approach (Based on DFID 2003).

Changes in Traditionally Protected Forests and

Changes in Traditionally Protected Forests and

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