Written by indigenous leader Uruba Pataxó and ”MC”, a Brazilian ethnologist who for security reasons has shosen to be anonymous.
The relationship between large-scale industrial operations and indigenous communities is often marked by profound ecological and cultural disruption.
Uruba Pataxó articulates the transformation of her homeland with deep emotional resonance: “The forest that once surrounded us, that embraced our rituals and safeguarded our food, now stands silent and depleted. The eucalyptus planted by Veracel/StoraEnso has sucked the life from our land, leaving behind a thirsty and damaged soil.” This observation is echoed by MC, who notes, “The trees are no longer guardians; they have been replaced by plantations that stretch endlessly, consuming and polluting the water that rivers and lagoons depend on.”
…our spirits suffer with the river’s decline, they are an extension of our bodies
Scientific studies corroborate these experiences, indicating that eucalyptus, known for its rapid growth and high water consumption, significantly disrupts local hydrological cycles. The resulting decrease in groundwater levels contributes to the drying and damage of rivers and wetlands, essential to the community’s agriculture and overall survival. The main river, once a vibrant source of sustenance, has been diminished to a fragile and sad trickle. Uruba’s voice captures the gravity of this change: “We cannot plant the same way or fish as we once did, and our spirits suffer with the river’s decline, they are an extension of our bodies.”
The testimonies also highlight the adverse health effects experienced by the Pataxó community. Uruba remarks, “What used to be pure and life-sustaining now poisons our bodies.” MC adds, “The health of elders and children is being affected, and they are constantly battling illnesses, especially skin problems, that were never this severe before. We know that the chemicals from the plantations seep into water and land.”
These observations align with scientific findings on the use of chemical agents in monoculture plantations. The application of pesticides and fertilizers can contaminate both surface and groundwater, leading to respiratory and dermatological conditions among nearby populations. The health crises faced by the Pataxó are thus not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern observed in communities exposed to industrial agriculture.
For the Pataxó, the land is integral to their body, cultural and spiritual identity. MC underscores this point, stating, “Their full moon still happens asking for help to nature and forest. Without the forest, how do they honor their ancestors? How do they show gratitude when the land is silent and barren?” Uruba echoes this sentiment: “We try to grow our cassava for beiju and cauim, but the earth is no longer generous, they grow but not as before.”
The cultural implications of environmental degradation extend beyond the loss of resources; they disrupt the practice of rituals and traditions that have sustained the community’s way of life for generations. Pataxó’s calendar is guided by the moon in sintony with nature. The inability to maintain these practices not only erodes cultural heritage but also undermines community cohesion and identity.
The expansion of Veracel/Stora Enso has also led to significant territorial and social conflicts. Testimonies speak to the promises made by the company that failed to materialize: “When we try to communicate with Veracel, they give us a notebook and colored pencils worth five bucks, trying to deceive us while exploiting our land. As if that could erase our pain or silence our demands. The trucks, the machinery—they rumble through our villages, ignoring our existence. Roads are built not for us but for their gain, cutting through our land.”
Testimonials further illustrate the betrayal felt by the community: “Negotiations happen in the shadows, where those who should protect us are complicit. Yet, we see through these attempts to deceive us. We are not a people who forget or who surrender.” This highlights the lack of meaningful engagement and respect for indigenous sovereignty, resulting in heightened tensions and threats to the community’s security.
The testimonies reflect a reality shared by many indigenous communities affected by industrial monocultures. Their voices emphasize that the environmental, health, and cultural impacts of Veracel/Stora Enso’s operations on the Barra Velha Indigenous Land are part of a broader systemic issue involving the disregard for indigenous rights and environmental sustainability.
We have reclaimed our land, and we’ll keep reclaiming it, walking our paths, taking back our territory
Addressing these issues requires a shift in how industrial development is approached, placing the rights and well-being of indigenous communities at the forefront. Policymakers, scholars, and activists must work together to ensure that economic progress does not come at the expense of cultural survival and ecological balance. The resilience demonstrated by the Pataxó serves as a powerful reminder that protecting indigenous lands and traditions is essential for a just and sustainable future.
Uruba concludes: “We have reclaimed our land, and we’ll keep reclaiming it, walking our paths, taking back our territory. It’s not easy. My suggestion for improvement is that Veracel must remove its eucalyptus plantations from our land and leave our territory, which traditionally belongs to the Pataxó people. To do this, they must sit with the Pataxó’ leaders council and pay for the damage caused over so many years—nearly 50 years—of operating on our land. They must compensate for the harm done to our lives, Mother Nature, and our sacred earth.”