Exactly why the government bundled two essentially different exercises like Amerindian and African land issues together under the umbrella of one Commission of Inquiry is not altogether clear, more especially as it seems to have recognised that even within that framework they would have to be treated separately. There would be no mix-up between Amerindian land-titling and African ancestral land claims, Minister of State Joseph Harmon assured the media last Thursday, going on to explain that titling requirements are addressed in the CoI terms of reference.
That being so, one can only wonder why it was – African land questions aside – the government thought a CoI was necessary at all to address titling issues in indigenous communities, when these can be dealt with quite satisfactorily under current legislation. One suspects that they may have been misled by a well-publicised myth that African land matters and those of Amerindians can be equated, and that they relate to considerations of reparatory justice. That, however, is not the case.
This position rests on a flawed historical understanding. In Guyana when the Dutch settled, the indigenous population far outnumbered the combined European, African and, later, Mixed peoples, and in fact the new settlers were dependent on the Amerindians for their survival. There was no large-scale movement away from plantation areas, therefore, and trade formed the foundation of the relationship between the newcomers and the indigenous inhabitants for well over a century. Until the early 18th century, for example, it was the latter who produced and processed this country’s second most important export, namely anatto, which was used to colour Dutch cheeses.
The plantation custodial function with which the Amerindian name has become so associated, was for the most part a development after 1763 and in any case only involved one or two nations, not them all. It was a reflection of the demographic shift in the Guyana colonies, where African numbers increased dramatically, particularly between 1796 and 1806, and came to far outnumber the Amerindians.
Since the Dutch authorities, at least (although not always the planters), understood the importance to their future of not antagonising the indigenous nations, they did not interfere with their way of life, and recognised their right of usufruct in relation to the natural flora and fauna. At one point, for example, the authorities in Berbice prohibited the white inhabitants from cutting wood, but made an exception of the Amerindians provided it was to sustain their lifestyle, and not for commercial purposes.
This approach persisted in the British colonial era, with various pieces of legislation such as the State Lands Act, the Forest Act and the Mining Act containing conservation clauses relating to Amerindian usufructuary rights which survived into modern times. As coastlanders penetrated the hinterland more and more, the British became concerned about the pressure on the indigenous lifestyle and culture, and the possible decline in Amerindian numbers. In 1902, therefore, they brought in legislation creating reservations for a number of indigenous groups, from which outsiders were excluded without special permission. It was a very paternalistic, and to modern eyes, a backward statute, but at least it was drafted with the intention of protecting some nations from the depredations of a very different society, and with the objective of affording them some cultural protection. A more comprehensive ordinance along the same lines followed in 1910, with further reservations being scheduled.
Some limited progress was made with the 1951 ordinance, whereby the word ‘reservation’ was dispensed with, and the terms Areas, Districts and Villages were substituted. In addition, there were the first tentative steps towards self-government within the villages, in the form of village councils, etc. The general idea going back through the colonial era was that the communal lifestyle, the attitude to property – in fact, the entire economic basis of the indigenous style of living – was not compatible in a total sense with the coastlander economy, founded as it was on individual property rights.
The understanding was that if Amerindian communities were not given space to follow their style of living, the coastland economy and its mores would destroy their culture and along with it their language and unique way of life. In more recent times, of course, the indigenous people’s approach to maintaining themselves has been emphasised as having played a major role in the preservation of the hinterland environment, and the forest in particular.
When Stephen Campbell, associated with the United Force party, put the position for Amerindian land rights in the constitutional conferences in 1962 and ’63, the question of reparatory justice simply did not arise; he feared that since the Amerindians did not have title to the land previously designated ‘reservations’, it would be expropriated after independence, and their culture and way of life would be exposed to possible extinction. His efforts both in London and Georgetown were not in vain, and indigenous rights were recognised in the constitution of 1966. As a consequence, the Amerindian Lands Commission was set up to recommend what land should be granted, taking into account among various other factors, what would likely be needed for population expansion. That report was completed in 1969, and seven years later, the 1951 Act was amended to include the scheduling of villages which would be given title to land.
Further villages obtained title under the PPP/C government, but the process of titling slowed down dramatically, because surveys had to be undertaken first, in addition to which the Amerindian Lands Commission seriously underestimated the increase in the indigenous population, which has caused some villages to apply for extensions. There are other difficulties and conflicts arising from mining and logging, but as mentioned above, all of them can be addressed through mechanisms in the current legislation, more especially the 2006 Amerindian Act.
Contrary to what has been claimed in some quarters, therefore, it does not matter to the land titling question when a particular nation arrived within what are now our borders, although it must be said as an aside that nations have come and gone throughout the colonial period. The most recent to go were the Tarumas who came here first from the Rio Negro in the 1720s, and were virtually wiped out by an epidemic, which it has been suggested was the last outbreak of the ’flu pandemic at the end of the First World War. The last few survivors were absorbed by the Wapishanas.
What can be said is that all nine nations domiciled in Guyana now, were here before Emancipation, even the Wai Wais, the last comers who arrived in the early 19th century, and whom Robert Schomburgk encountered in an established village in 1837. As for the Wapishanas themselves, along with the Macushis, contrary to some misinformation in circulation, they arrived here in the 1770s, refugees from the Portuguese missions of the Rio Branco. However, it seems likely that they may have periodically crossed the Takutu even before this into what is now our Guyana.
Assuming it was the government’s intention all along – misleading historical information notwithstanding – for the CoI to proceed separately on the Amerindian land question as opposed to the African ancestral rights matter, how did they arrive at only one Indigenous representative to sit on the Commission? And those who inhabit the Presidential Secretariat should hardly be surprised that the National Toshaos Council has issued a stinging rebuke about lack of consultation with the NTC, which after all, is the highest representative council of the indigenous people. While this was clearly not their intention, the authorities have conveyed the most unfortunate impression by their actions of a more paternalistic approach than a democratic one.
Exactly what can be retrieved from this fiasco is not immediately apparent, since it is unlikely the government would entertain withdrawing Amerindian land issues from the Commission’s purview, although that would certainly be the preferred way to proceed. Barring that, perhaps there could be some juggling of the composition of that section of the Commission which will address indigenous land questions. In any event, the powers that be need as a priority to consult with the NTC about the compromises which might be possible, and if the addition of new members might ease concerns, then they could discuss the identities of possible appointees. What is not helpful are high decibel exchanges, particularly from the Ministry of Indigenous Affairs, since that will make negotiation more problematic.
In the end, the exercise should be broadly acceptable to indigenous people, and if the government digs its heels in, that is not likely to happen, and the issues – and the dissatisfaction – will drag on and on.
