In Peru, the challenging coexistence between a peasant community and a huge copper mine

2023

This story is part of a long-term project documenting the way industrial, mining and energy companies often endanger Indigenous communities’ health, rights and traditional lifestyles, and how those communities are fighting back. After a first chapter about the struggle of an Indigenous village in French Guiana against the building of an electric power plant in the Amazon, the second chapter tackles the impact of the mining sector in Peru.

On this sunny November morning, the inhabitants of Chuicuni, a Quechua village perched at 3800 meters altitude in the Peruvian Andes, are gathered for the annual siembra ceremony. Clad in their traditional attire and colorful hats, villagers are planting potatoes, one of the staple foods of Andean populations.

First, it’s a way to meet their food needs. Indigenous communities in Peru, accounting for 25% of the total population according to the 2017 census[1], as well as those in neighboring countries like Bolivia and Ecuador, mostly live in rural areas and rely on agriculture and livestock as their main livelihood activities.

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It’s also a way to strengthen the bonds within the community. Andean cosmovision is based on ideas such as Ayni, a principle of reciprocity and solidarity that encourages community members to help one another and work together to ensure the well-being and survival of all[2]. During the siembra, division of labor is gendered and laden with symbolism regarding fertility. Men plow the land with a traditional tool, the chakitacclla, while women carefully put one potato in each hole thus dug.

Finally, it’s a way to reassert their connection to the land during a spiritually charged ceremony. A woman pours chicha, a fermented maize-based beverage, over the potatoes. This same slightly alcoholic brew that villagers sip from a cow horn throughout the day. A small group of women sing traditional songs. These practices are part of a demonstration of respect for Pachamama, the Andean deity of Mother Earth, known as Madre Tierra in Spanish, and are believed to increase the chances of a good harvest.

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The inhabitants of Chuicuni also hope to demonstrate that they are the rightful users of this land. And for good reason. They are in dispute with the hacendados, the former landowners, a Peruvian family named Cruz Mendoza now residing in the United States but who have been claiming ownership rights over this piece of land[3]. A court decision sided with this family in 2011, ruling that the villagers were illegally occupying the land and should be evicted. On August 25, 2023, the judge in charge of the case visited the village and reversed the decision, noting that the land use has nothing temporary[4]. In addition to the houses, there is also a primary school recognized by the Peruvian Ministry of Education[5]. Both the school and this part of the village are named after “Juan Velasco Alvarado”, the former military officer and politician who led the 1968 coup d’état and the 1969 agrarian reform. The latter aimed to end the latifundia system inherited from colonization, which concentrated agricultural land ownership in the hands of a few affluent families[6]. According to an agricultural census conducted in 1961, 75.9% of the land belonged to 0.4% of the owners[7]. Such a land concentration inevitably led to immense poverty among rural populations.

But why does a somewhat fertile plot of land at 3800 meters above sea level attract so much attention? The answer lies a few hundred meters from the village. Since 2016, one of the world’s largest copper mines, Las Bambas, has been operating at full capacity. It was initiated by the Swiss multinational company Xstrata and is now operated by the Australian-Chinese multinational company MMG[8]. An open-pit mine that employs 9,000 workers daily and produces 400,000 tons of copper every year, accounting for 2% of global production[9]. Peru ranks second among copper-producing countries[10], behind Chile, with this increasingly coveted mineral, due to its electrical conductivity in the context of energy transition[11].

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In the foreground, the city of Challhuahuacho, which has grown exponentially since the arrival of the mine. In the middle ground, the Juan Velasco Alvarado sector of Chuicuni village threatened by the expulsion decision. In the background behind the mountains, the mine of Las Bambas. Aerial shot, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

Jose Luis Yucra Gutiérrez, 28-year-old leader of the Chuicuni community, is convinced that the Cruz Mendoza family is only interested in these lands because of the presence of the mine. “They want to sell the land to Las Bambas, money is all they care about! Shouldn’t the land belong to those who use it? After all, we’re the ones who cultivate it and raise our animals here.” The decision was only suspended and the threat of eviction still looms over the inhabitants[12].

Peru’s subsoil is full of a multitude of natural resources whose extraction has consequences for ecosystems and the climate[13]: air, water, and soil pollution, loss of biodiversity, increased water stress, direct or indirect greenhouse gas emissions, etc. At the same time, it represents a significant financial windfall for the Andean country. In Peru, the mining sector alone accounts for 11% of GDP and 57% of exports[14]. While the rich get richer, it’s rare for the benefits to trickle down to neighboring villages of extractive projects. The environmental cost goes hand in hand with significant social repercussions. About 95% of the lands subject to concession for extractive projects are inhabited by peasant communities[15]. These communities, like the village of Chuicuni, are mainly made up of Indigenous peoples, with the main group being the Quechuas, descendants of the Inca civilization[16].

In the 1990s, neoliberal policies of former President Alberto Fujimori, following in the footsteps of Augusto Pinochet’s economic reforms in Chile, paved the way for large-scale transfer of resource-rich territories for exploitation by foreign companies[17]. Thus began a new dynamic of land ownership concentration that had been curbed by the agrarian reform of 1969[18]. This concentration proves problematic as it leads to another one, that of the power of multinational corporations. Faced with the emergence of these new actors with disproportionate economic and political power, the state loses influence in these areas and neglects rural populations[19]. Companies benefit from an advantageous tax system. It also becomes legal to “relocate” a community that would hinder the development of a mining project[20]. In 2014, over 40% of Peruvian territory was subject to concessions for the exploitation of its natural resources by private actors: 20% for mining operations, 16% for oil extraction (mainly in the Amazon region), and 6% for logging projects[21].

Map of mining concessions in Peru. After peaking in 2014, they decreased but still represented 14,78% of Peruvian territory in 2022. © CooperAcción

Often, lands are transferred to companies without genuine consultations with local communities. This is due to a legal framework largely unfavorable to peasant communities. While the territorial rights of Indigenous populations are guaranteed by the 1993 Constitution, Article 89 stating that ownership of their ancestral lands is “inalienable”, Article 66 determines that natural resources are the sole property of the State[22]. In other words, even if a community owns land on the surface, the State remains sovereign over the use of resources in the subsoil. Environmental Impact Assessments (EIAs) only involve consultation with communities affected by a mining project in the final stages, when most decisions have already been made[23]. Any opposition from a community to a project would not be legally binding anyway[24].

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Las Bambas mine in southern Peru, where 400,000 tons of copper are extracted every year, accounting for 2% of global production. Aerial shot, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

Furthermore, these exploitations are part of a traditional international division of labor, common throughout Latin America[25]. Peru, a country with little industrialization, primarily serves as a supplier of raw materials. While this provides huge short-term profits for national elites, it offers little prospect for lasting development and locks the country into a form of dependency on foreign partners and global raw material prices. The extreme case of Venezuela, with its specialization in exporting crude oil, has already demonstrated how such an economic orientation can prove disastrous[26].

David Huillca Puma, former president of the Chuicuni community, performs a ritual with coca leaves, a sacred plant for Andean populations, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

Unsurprisingly, a society so heavily influenced by extractivism is not spared from tensions. The Peruvian Mining Conflicts Observatory records around 170 “social-environmental conflicts” in the country, with at least 70% directly related to the mining sector[27]. These conflicts arise against a backdrop of record inequalities and enduring political crisis[28]. Since 2016, the country has seen six presidents come and go. Corruption scandals abound[29], feeding growing distrust in national institutions. The recent years have been marked by numerous protests. Marginalized communities have taken to the streets and have been met with bloody repression by authorities, as documented in a recent report by Human Rights Watch[30].

Social conflicts sparked by extractive projects can have different claims at their root[31]. During the highly publicized conflict of Conga in the department of Cajamarca, local communities chose to engage in direct opposition to a massive gold and copper mine project. Concerned about the impact on water resources, they mobilized extensively, organized protests all the way to Lima, and eventually succeeded in pushing the State to suspend the implementation of the project in 2011[32]. On the contrary, the promoters of Las Bambas, who obtained land concessions from the Peruvian government in 2004, initially managed to convince several neighboring communities with promises of employment, compensation, and development. The mine did not generate massive mobilization during the initial phases of its implementation. It was only later in the process that doubts, frustrations, initiatives of resistance emerged.

Aerial video of Las Bambas copper mine in Peru, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

A decisive came in 2014 when the multinational company Xstrata, behind the mining project, was acquired by MMG. Xstrata initially planned the construction of a 206-kilometer underground pipeline to transport the extracted copper[33]. Through a modification of the environmental impact study carried out without consulting the residents, MMG abandoned the pipeline project and decided to transport the ore by road instead[34]. Local populations started fearing pollution, as well as the noise and dust that would be caused by the never-ending truck traffic. Tensions peaked in 2015 when peasant associations organized a strike and clashes between police and protesters resulted in several deaths and dozens of injuries[35]. Since its launch in 2016, the exports of Las Bambas were blocked during a total of 400 days by communities residing along the mining corridor[36]. This situation has generated up to $9.5 million in losses per day of blockade according to an association representing the interests of extractive companies in Peru[37].

In the village of Chuicuni where I spent a week in November 2023, the residents bear the brunt of a challenging coexistence with such a large-scale mining operation.

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The river that used to run through the village of Chuicuni is nearly dry. Aerial shot, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

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The villagers are installing an irrigation system to address the drought caused by the mine, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

Labriana Lima Huachaca recounts that agricultural yields have greatly decreased and that livestock often fall ill since the mine started operating, indicating apparent soil and water pollution. In local markets, products from Chuicuni no longer sell due to widespread fears of contamination. Olga Huillca Lima, Labriana’s daughter, adds that food prices have skyrocketed, resulting in villagers struggling to afford staple products.

The pollution is accompanied by water stress, a situation increasingly prevalent in the context of climate change and often a focal point in social conflicts[38]. Copper mining requires large volumes of water, often leaving the mine surroundings dry. A river once flowed through the village and teemed with trout according to Raul Pinares Aysa, another resident. There is nothing left of it today. During my visit, several villagers were busy installing an irrigation system from the village’s heights to meet their basic water needs, as well as for agriculture and livestock.

Alcira Huamani Huachaca, who lives a few hundred meters from the mine, laments the appearance of cracks in one of the walls of her house. Ore extraction requires the use of explosives that generate significant dust clouds and small earthquakes capable of damaging nearby homes.

Alcira Huamani Huachaca in front of the cracked wall of her house in Chuicuni village, November 2023. *© Yann Lenzen*

Beyond environmental degradation, the presence of the mine also brings about several social disruptions. David Huillca Puma, former leader of the community, recounts that the nearby town of Challhuahuacho experienced uncontrolled growth with the arrival of mine workers. Once a tiny village, Challhuahuacho now houses nearly 20,000 inhabitants and has some sort of Wild West atmosphere. All businesses (hotels, restaurants, shops, etc.) are directly or indirectly linked to the mine and its workers, which also attract delinquency and prostitution.

Challhuahuacho’s main street, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

The decline of Quechua, the main traditional language of Andean populations, also appears to be accelerating in the region since the arrival of the mine. Yesica Mamani Vargas, a schoolteacher in Chuicuni, has observed a transformation since the arrival of workers from other regions of Peru and their families, who may not necessarily speak Quechua. Lessons are now taught in Spanish to accommodate the new majority.

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The establishment of Las Bambas has generated significant tensions and local divisions. First, among neighboring communities of the mine, as some have received more financial compensation than others. To build the mine, it was necessary to completely demolish the village of Fuerabamba, which was located exactly where the main copper deposit was found. This community, consisting of 500 families, accepted at the time in exchange for financial compensation and the construction of a new village a few kilometers away, “Nueva Fuerabamba”. This community came to be seen as the winners of the arrival of the mine and sometimes aroused jealousy. And yet, many villagers of Nueva Fuerabamba feel aggrieved, like Onarato, a man I met while hitchhiking in the region. Deprived of access to their ancestral land and several aspects of their traditional way of life, they have been involuntarily integrated into a capitalist economy. Previously self-sufficient, they are now forced to sell their labor to buy food and pay bills.

Tensions also arise within communities. In Fuerabamba, they stem from unequal financial compensation among villagers depending on their residency status[39]. In Chuicuni, in the absence of direct financial compensation, tensions arise due to the limited number of inhabitants working for the mine or a subcontracting company. These families live comfortably while those who continue to engage in agriculture have actually become poorer and only experience negative effects.

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The promises of employment for local communities were fulfilled in the years leading up to the launch in 2016 when a lot of unskilled workers were required to prepare the facilities[40]. Subsequently, the needs shifted towards skilled workers and engineers from all over Peru. Villagers from neighboring communities usually have low levels of education and are therefore less frequently employed. The lucky few who manage to temporarily improve their economic situation experience a growing dependency on the mine, finding themselves in a precarious situation if they fail to secure their employment in a region where professional opportunities are scarce[41].

A profound transformation of social structures and the local economy is taking place. Money, previously rarely used due to the prevalence of bartering, becomes central in exchanges, exacerbating inequalities and marginalizing those who prefer to keep engaging in agriculture or livestock farming.

Corsinu Adrian Huillca, a villager from Chuicuni, is pointing at the mine of Las Bambas, located a few hundred meters from his home, November 2023. © Yann Lenzen

So, what are villagers in Chuicuni hoping for? They are realistic, they do not have the power to challenge an industrial operation of this scale. Action should have been taken much earlier, as in the case of the Conga project. Now, they mainly hope that pollution will be limited and that the benefits will be better distributed. “We are not asking the mine to give us money directly. We want job opportunities to escape poverty”, explains Olga Huillca Lima. David Huillca Puma advocates for greater state intervention to protect the environment and Quechua culture, and to ensure better redistribution of the benefits generated by mining activity. The only way to guarantee everyone a decent life and better educational opportunities for younger generations.

Our society’s appetite for energy and natural resources will continue to grow as long as the increase in material comfort remains the main criterion to gauge “progress” and “development”. Inhabitants of Chuicuni remind us of the other side of the coin… The extraction of valuable raw materials, however invisible it may be to the average consumer, often has significant consequences for ecosystems and human communities alike. Indigenous peoples, in Peru and elsewhere, have cultivated for centuries ways of life characterized by a strong integration with their environment. The opposition between nature and culture inherent in Western philosophy, causing endless greed for resources, unprecedented climate change, and massive biodiversity loss, is generally absent from Indigenous cultures and languages. Many of them do not recognize such a division, indicating that their speakers form an integral part of the environment they inhabit and must preserve for future generations. A worldview we should draw inspiration from without delay.

Yann Lenzen

Independent photographer and journalist