288 Reia Anquet and Fabien Girard
the community El Piro, this is referred to as the “traditional management of
knowledge and the main species of fauna and plants” (p. 10).
The same general patterns are discernible across a large number of BCPs:
traditional practices and TK of biodiversity conservation have been translated
into traditional institutions (e.g. “traditional chief ” in Ampangalatsary (p. 3) and
El Piro (p. 9), “traditional authority” in the community of Degbe Aguinninnou (p. 16)), customs (also referred to as “traditions” – BCP of Ampangalatsary
(p. 16)) and taboos and prohibitions (e.g. the prohibition to kill the boa, the taro,
the turtledove, and the bat within the community of the Degbe Aguinninnou
(p. 9), or to kill the jaguar and the tepezcuincle – paca – in Ek Balam (p. 35)).
These institutions are meant to regulate the use of the resources and ensure their
long-term survival.
This diversity of semantic beacons tends to be subsumed under the umbrella
term (or genetic signifier) of a “traditional way of life”. The “traditional” lifestyles, at times tied to specific worldviews (“cosmovisión indígena”/“indigenous
worldview” in El Piro (p. 14), “comunalidad” in Capulálpam de Méndez)
42 or to
distinctive cultural practices (“traditional dances” and “traditional dress” again
in El Piro (p. 9)), constitute the ethical foundation in which conservation practices are rooted and from which they are projected onto real-life experiences and
thus into the present. Traditional ways of life, however deeply they are embedded in specific relationships between humans and n on-humans, are barely called
upon in their own right, but for their instrumental ability to ethically sustain
conservation practices that are deemed relevant to the present time.
This is unquestionably an effect of the “politics of difference” – which is also
a “politics of the subjects” (Agrawal, 2005a, p. 164) – whereby “[…] the constitution of oneself as an ‘authentic’[…]” self is “[…] conflated with specific ahistorical
assumptions concerning the nature of indigeneity […]” or of a local community
(Barcham, 2000, p. 138). It goes through a process wherein practices are progressively segregated, roles redistributed, and competencies rearranged (Agrawal,
1995, 2002). Unsurprisingly, the pivot of the process is the polarity between
“tradition” and “modernity”, allowing the shift of certain practices from the
first category to the second. This process is often almost invisible: alleged unsustainable practices that need to be abandoned are simply passed off as “modern”
agricultural practices.
The first step generally involves pitting “modernity” against “tradition”,
the former acting as the malign force driving the dissolution of the latter. In
this respect, the siren voices of modern life (“Western academic training” or
urban migration) are usually blamed for the youth’s disinterest in TK and practices related to biodiversity (BCP, Comunidad El Piro, p. 10). For example, the
increasing use of Western medicine is denounced as the reason for the decline in
“traditional medicine” in El Piro (Ibid.). Some BCPs also state that “landraces”
and “traditional knowledge” are put at risk by cash crops (pineapple, teak wood
farming, firewood production, orchards) (BCP Tori-Bossito, p. 9), a hallmark of
modern agriculture.
the community El Piro, this is referred to as the “traditional management of
knowledge and the main species of fauna and plants” (p. 10).
The same general patterns are discernible across a large number of BCPs:
traditional practices and TK of biodiversity conservation have been translated
into traditional institutions (e.g. “traditional chief ” in Ampangalatsary (p. 3) and
El Piro (p. 9), “traditional authority” in the community of Degbe Aguinninnou (p. 16)), customs (also referred to as “traditions” – BCP of Ampangalatsary
(p. 16)) and taboos and prohibitions (e.g. the prohibition to kill the boa, the taro,
the turtledove, and the bat within the community of the Degbe Aguinninnou
(p. 9), or to kill the jaguar and the tepezcuincle – paca – in Ek Balam (p. 35)).
These institutions are meant to regulate the use of the resources and ensure their
long-term survival.
This diversity of semantic beacons tends to be subsumed under the umbrella
term (or genetic signifier) of a “traditional way of life”. The “traditional” lifestyles, at times tied to specific worldviews (“cosmovisión indígena”/“indigenous
worldview” in El Piro (p. 14), “comunalidad” in Capulálpam de Méndez)
42 or to
distinctive cultural practices (“traditional dances” and “traditional dress” again
in El Piro (p. 9)), constitute the ethical foundation in which conservation practices are rooted and from which they are projected onto real-life experiences and
thus into the present. Traditional ways of life, however deeply they are embedded in specific relationships between humans and n on-humans, are barely called
upon in their own right, but for their instrumental ability to ethically sustain
conservation practices that are deemed relevant to the present time.
This is unquestionably an effect of the “politics of difference” – which is also
a “politics of the subjects” (Agrawal, 2005a, p. 164) – whereby “[…] the constitution of oneself as an ‘authentic’[…]” self is “[…] conflated with specific ahistorical
assumptions concerning the nature of indigeneity […]” or of a local community
(Barcham, 2000, p. 138). It goes through a process wherein practices are progressively segregated, roles redistributed, and competencies rearranged (Agrawal,
1995, 2002). Unsurprisingly, the pivot of the process is the polarity between
“tradition” and “modernity”, allowing the shift of certain practices from the
first category to the second. This process is often almost invisible: alleged unsustainable practices that need to be abandoned are simply passed off as “modern”
agricultural practices.
The first step generally involves pitting “modernity” against “tradition”,
the former acting as the malign force driving the dissolution of the latter. In
this respect, the siren voices of modern life (“Western academic training” or
urban migration) are usually blamed for the youth’s disinterest in TK and practices related to biodiversity (BCP, Comunidad El Piro, p. 10). For example, the
increasing use of Western medicine is denounced as the reason for the decline in
“traditional medicine” in El Piro (Ibid.). Some BCPs also state that “landraces”
and “traditional knowledge” are put at risk by cash crops (pineapple, teak wood
farming, firewood production, orchards) (BCP Tori-Bossito, p. 9), a hallmark of
modern agriculture.