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Trouble in Paradise: Indigenous Populations, Anthropological Policies, andBiodiversity Conservation in Manu National Park, PeruGlenn H. Shepard Jr.a; Klaus Rummenhoellerb; Julia Ohl-Schachererc; Douglas W. Yuda Museu Paraense Emilio Goeldi, Belm do Par, Brazil b Asociacin Peruana para la Conservacin dela Naturaleza (APECO), Lima, Peru c Center for Ecology, Evolution and Conservation (CEEC), Schoolof Biological Sciences, University of East Anglia, Norwich, UK d Ecology, Conservation, and

Environment Center (ECEC), Kunming Institute of Zoology, Kunming, Yunnan, China

Online publication date: 14 June 2010

To cite this Article Shepard Jr., Glenn H. , Rummenhoeller, Klaus , Ohl-Schacherer, Julia and Yu, Douglas W.(2010)'Trouble in Paradise: Indigenous Populations, Anthropological Policies, and Biodiversity Conservation in Manu NationalPark, Peru', Journal of Sustainable Forestry, 29: 2, 252 301

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Journal of Sustainable Forestry, 29:252301, 2010Copyright Taylor & Francis Group, LLCISSN: 1054-9811 print/1540-756X onlineDOI: 10.1080/10549810903548153

WJSF1054-98111540-756XJournal of Sustainable Forestry, Vol. 29, No. 2, Jan 2010: pp. 00Journal of Sustainable Forestry

Trouble in Paradise: Indigenous Populations,Anthropological Policies, and BiodiversityConservation in Manu National Park, Peru

Trouble in ParadiseG. H. Shepard, Jr. et al.

GLENN H. SHEPARD, Jr.1, KLAUS RUMMENHOELLER2,JULIA OHL-SCHACHERER3, and DOUGLAS W. YU4

1Museu Paraense Emilio Goeldi, Belm do Par, Brazil2Asociacin Peruana para la Conservacin de la Naturaleza (APECO), Lima, Peru

3

Center for Ecology, Evolution and Conservation (CEEC), School of Biological Sciences,University of East Anglia, Norwich, UK

4Ecology, Conservation, and Environment Center (ECEC), Kunming Institute of Zoology,

Kunming, Yunnan, China

Manu National Park was founded in 1973 on a profound contradic-

tion: The untouchable core area is, in fact, the homeland of a largeindigenous population, including the Matsigenka (Machiguenga).Some view the Westernization of native communities living in pro-

tected areas as a threat to biodiversity conservation and suggest thatsuch populations should be enticed to resettle outside parks. Here, wepresent an overview of the indigenous populations of Manu, outline

the history of the park and its anthropological policies, and discussevolving park-Matsigenka conflicts as well as areas of common

interest. Analysis reveals that resettlement has no political, legal, orpractical viability. Thus, given the options available, we propose thatlong-term biodiversity conservation can best be achieved through a

A preliminary draft of this article was presented by Shepard and Rummenhoeller (2000) atthe meeting of Associao Braslieira de Antropologia in Brasilia in a session organized by HenyoBarreto Filho. A much revised draft was presented by Shepard and Yu at the International Societyfor Tropical Foresters conference at Yale, 2004. We give special thanks to the conference organiz-ers, Iona Hawken and Ilmi Granoff, and acknowledge major funding support by the LeverhulmeTrust. We also thank Instituto Nacional de Recursos Naturales (INRENA), Asociacin Peruanapara la Conservacin de la Naturaleza (APECO), John Terborgh and Cocha Cashu BiologicalStation, and the people of the native communities of Tayakome and Yomybato.

Address correspondence to Glenn H. Shepard, Jr., PhD, Curator of EthnologicalCollections in the Curt Nimuendaj Reserve Department of Anthropology Museu ParaenseEmilio Goeldi Av. Perimetral, 1901-Terra Firme Belm do Para, PA, 66077830 Brazil.

E-mail: [email protected]


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Trouble in Paradise 253

tenure for defense trade: indigenous communities receive explicitbenefits (e.g., infrastructure and service investments, employmentopportunities, or economic alternatives such as ecotourism) in

exchange for helping to defend the park against incursion and

managing vulnerable resources such as game animals.

KEYWORDS biodiversity conservation, ecotourism, human-inhabited protected areas, indigenous rights, Manu National Park,

park management, Peru, subsistence hunting

INTRODUCTION

The presence of native human populations in nature reserves, particularly in

the Amazon region, has spawned debate between those who view indige-nous people as conservationists, and those who see them as a threat tobiodiversity conservation (Alcorn, 1993; Peres, 1993; Redford & Stearman,1993; Schwartzman, Moreira, & Nepstad, 2000; Terborgh, 2000; Zimmerman,Peres, Malcolm, & Turner, 2001; Terborgh & Peres, 2002). In part, thispolemic involves different notions of what constitutes nature, and what rolehuman culture plays in the natural world. Romantically minded conserva-tionists in the American tradition since the time of John Muir have viewedprimeval nature as a kind of spiritual cathedral, requiring protection so as toremain unspoiled by the hand of Man. During the creation of the worlds

first national park system in the United States, indigenous inhabitants wereforcibly removed from important parks such as Yosemite Valley, Yellowstone,and others (Spence, 1999). Under this conception, the concepts of Natureand Culture are seen as diametrically opposed categories.

In contrast, indigenous Amazonian ecologies, economies, and cosmolo-gies are characterized by tremendous fluidity between the categories ofNature and Culture (Lvi-Strauss, 1970; Viveiros de Castro, 1992; Descola,1994; Johnson, 2002). Furthermore, research by ethnobotanists and culturalecologists has highlighted aspects of indigenous ideologies, knowledge, andpractice that appear to contribute to biodiversity conservation (Posey, 1985;Bale, 1989; Shepard, 1999b, 2002a; Carlson & Maffi, 2004). Emerging fromalliances forged in the 1980s between environmentalists, rubber-tapper unionsand indigenous federations, the new perspective of socioenvironmentalism(see Ricardo & Campanili, 2005) has emerged in Brazil and other South

American countries as an alternative to the North American preservationist-conservationist model. Socioenvironmentalism affirms the multiple associa-tions between cultural and biological diversity (Declaration of Belm, 1988;Harmon, 1998; Maffi, 2004), and takes a politically active stance on biodiversityconservation as inseparable from issues of social justice and cultural and terri-

torial rights for indigenous and forest peoples. Nonetheless, state conservation


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254 G. H. Shepard, Jr. et al.

agencies in Peru, Brazil, and elsewhere remain uncomfortable with, if notopenly hostile to the (albeit frequent) overlap between nature preserves andindigenous territories (Ricardo, 2004). In this article, we examine the people/parks polemic in the light of a specific and celebrated case: Manu National

Park, one of the worlds largest and most biologically diverse natural pro-tected areas. Manu, the crown gem in Perus national park system, has almostlegendary status among tropical scientists, ecotourists, and wildlife film pro-ducers. However, Manu Park was created upon a fundamental contradiction:The core area, considered untouchable and closed to human interference, ishome to a substantial indigenous population. Until 1990, the parks anthropo-logical policies were idealistic, paternalistic, and negligent, leading to serioushealth, social, and political crises in settled and isolated populations andcreating an atmosphere of mutual resentment and mistrust (Shepard &Rummenhoeller, 2000). The ecotourism industry flourished in the mid-1990s,

initially with minimal benefits for indigenous populations. Since 1990, how-ever, new park administrations and several non-governmental organizations(NGOs) have sought to attend to the needs of indigenous communities, espe-cially in the areas of health, education, and social and political organization.Members of the two settled Matsigenka native communities in Manu Parkhave also recently benefited from an indigenous-owned ecotourism enter-prise. As the Matsigenka have improved their living standards and begun tomake ever more frequent trips outside the park to participate in elections,political meetings and acquire Western goods, they have become more visibleto park personnel and scientists working in Manu Park.

Some conservation biologists have argued that indigenous populationsin parks constitute a threat to the future integrity of tropical conservation(Redford & Stearman, 1993; Robinson, 1993). In particular, Terborgh (1999,2000) has argued that the Westernizing and growing Matsigenka communi-ties in Manu Park, with increasing access to modern health services andtechnologies, will degrade the wildlife and ecosystem integrity of the park;he proposes that the only effective solution is resettlement to titled landsoutside the park. We believe that such ideas are based on a narrow view ofconservation goals and human adaptability (Shepard & Yu, 2003).

In this work, we present a history and critical assessment of the anthro-pological and conservation policies of Manu Park. We discuss the history ofthe region prior to the parks establishment, and describe evolving conflictsbetween the park and its indigenous inhabitants over the past threedecades. We also summarize and point out contradictions in legislation inPeru concerning indigenous populations in natural protected areas. Thediscussion makes it clear that resettlement of indigenous park inhabitants,

voluntary or otherwise, has no political or practical viability. Furthermore,the demographic and political void left by a park emptied of indigenousinhabitants would likely attract commercial resource extractors (especially

loggers), who currently are active at the park borders.


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We conclude by arguing that despite a history of conflict and misun-derstanding, the park and its inhabitants have common interests, the mostimportant of which is the desire to prevent incursion by outsiders. Thisshared interest can form the basis of a tenure-for-defense trade, as long as

the local biodiversity costs of indigenous subsistence are outweighed, in thelong run, by the benefits of territorial defense. Given the conservationimportance of large vertebrates and their vulnerability to local extinctionfrom subsistence hunting, we argue that ensuring the persistence of gamepopulations is a key requirement in the development of a tenure-for-defense conservation model in Manu Park. We briefly summarize findingsfrom a participatory study of game animal harvest in the Matsigenkacommunities of the park (see also da Silva, Shepard, & Yu, 2005; Ohl et al.,2007; Ohl-Schacherer et al., 2007), and outline how the findings could beused in a long-term management plan.

Any concessions by the Matsigenka inhabitants will have to be metwith some acceptable package of direct as well as indirect compensationfrom the park or the international conservation community. In this light, thefledgling Matsigenka-owned ecotourism lodge project in Manus tourismzone has become an important site for the negotiation of conservation-for-development trade-offs between the park and its native inhabitants.

WHOSE PARADISE? A BRIEF HISTORY OF MANUAND ITS NATIVE POPULATIONS

In films, popular books, websites, and tourist pamphlets, Manu NationalPark is often portrayed as a remote paradise without human interferenceor a Living Eden where nature flourishes in all its primordial splendor(MacQuarrie, 1992). Though remarkably rich in wildlife, Manu is anythingbut free from human interference. The human history of Manu, in the Madrede Dios basin and the adjacent Urubamba-Ucayali region, spans at leastthree millennia (Huertas & Garcia, 2003). Archeological studies of ceramics,textile technology, stone axes, rock art, and other ancient remains suggest a

continuous though dynamic occupation by four predominant cultural linguisticgroupsArawakan, Panoan, Harakmbut, and Tacanafrom pre-Colombiantimes through the present. Lowland Amazonian groups of the regionengaged in long-distance trade with Andean populations since at least Incatimes (Lathrap, 1973; Myers, 1981) with copper tools, precious metals, jewelry,and other goods of Andean manufacture being exchanged for lowlandproducts such as tobacco, resins, smoked meat, animal skins, and birdfeathers (Camino, 1977). Inca roads extended into the Cosipata region(Madre de Dios headwaters), where the Inca and later, the Spanish main-tained coca plantations, gold mines, and trading posts. Pre-Colombian trade

routes in Madre de Dios may have reached as far east as the Tambopata


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River (Lyon, 1981). Nonetheless, the Inca were unsuccessful in conqueringthe Amazonian lowlands, and direct Inca rule never extended far beyondthe Andean foothills.

Spanish explorers and Catholic missionaries engaged in trade and

attempted to subjugate Amazonian peoples starting in the late 16th century(Camino, 1977). By the middle of the 17th century, indigenous populationsthroughout Amazonia had suffered demographic and political collapse dueto the rapid spread of smallpox and other European diseases (Myers, 1988;Denevan, 1992). The capture of women and child slaves was already anelement of Amazonian inter-group warfare prior to the Conquest. In thepost-Conquest reconfiguration, surviving riverine groups raided weaker groupsfrom the hinterlands, capturing children to be sold at distant market townsas agricultural laborers, domestic servants, or Christian converts. Nonetheless,the Spanish encountered great difficulties in conquering, occupying, and

subjugating remote montaa (upland rainforest) regions, with their impene-trable forests, fast-flowing rivers of difficult navigation, and resistant localpopulations. In 1742, the messianic leader Juan Santos Atahuallpa gainedthe support of Arawakan populations and led an uprising that expelled theSpanish from the Ucayali-Urubamba basin for over a century (Santos-Granero,2002). Spanish explorers had even less success in the Madre de Dios basin,

where repeated expeditions starting in the late 17th century were destroyedby Indian attacks, treachery among rival Spanish leaders, and calamities inthe fierce rapids (MacQuarrie, 1992). Manu and Madre de Dios basinsremained isolated and devoid of a definitive European presence through thelate 19th century.

For its indigenous inhabitants, the enchantments of the remote, isolatedforests of the Manu region were finally and brutally dispelled by the RubberBoom or fever of rubber from 1895 to 1917. Charles Goodyears discoveryin 1839 of vulcanization and Dunlops subsequent invention of the pneumatictire fueled a drastic increase in demand for Amazonian rubber. Peruslowland rain forests were suddenly teeming with entrepreneurs (rubberbarons) and their local guides in search of rubber trees and cheap labor.Existing patterns of slave trading and inter-ethnic violence rose to a feverish

pitch. Dominant tribes of the Ucayali region such as the Piro, Shipibo, andAshaninkaalready engaged in tradeserved as guides in locating rubber-rich forests and enslaving local indigenous labor. In 1896, the infamousKing of Rubber, Carlos Fermn Fitzcarrald (Reyna, 1941), employed 200rubber tappers and a thousand native guides of the Ucayali River basin toportage a small steamship across the narrow land passage, now known asthe Isthmus of Fitzcarrald, separating the upper Mishagua River (a tributaryof the Urubamba) from the upper Manu River (tributary of the Madre deDios River), thus opening up a vast region that had hitherto been inac-cessible to rubber exploitation and European colonization more generally.

Accompanied by a flotilla of native guides in canoes, Fitzcarralds force was


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attacked by fiercely resistant native inhabitants known as the Maschos.Fitzcarrald lost 50 men, and in retaliation mounted a vicious counter-attack,killing some 300 Mashcos, burning their houses and gardens, and destroy-ing their canoes. A witness of the fierce battle described the carnage: You

could no longer drink the water from the river because it was so full of thecorpses of Mashcos and rubber tappers, because the fight was to the death(Reyna, 1941, cited in MacQuarrie, 1992, p. 59).

Punitive and slave-capturing raids known as correras (Camino, 1977)brought dislocation and devastation to indigenous populations who soughtto flee the rubber camps or resist intruders. In addition to the violence theyperpetrated, rubber tappers also brought new epidemics of exotic illnessessuch as malaria, measles, and influenza. Native populations who werepressed into labor in the rubber camps were subjected to poor health and

working conditions. Von Hassel (1904, p. 244) estimates that 60% of the native

workers in the Manu River rubber camps died of disease or malnutrition.Despite international protests about the atrocities, and denunciations

that were considered before British courts and the U.S. Congress (Hardenburg,1912; U.S. House of Representatives, 1913), it was not until after the collapseof international rubber pricesdue to the rise of Malaysian plantation rubberthat slave trading and genocide practiced against native Amazonians finallystarted to diminish. After 1917, Manu was abandoned even by the Catholicpriests who had established a mission at San Luis del Manu. However, thesame routes and techniques used during the rubber boom continued toprovide indigenous slaves for the hacienda plantation economy, loggingenterprises, and domestic service in Peruvian cities at least until the 1950s(Zarzar & Roman, 1983; Alvarez-Lobo, 1996). Many native populations onlymanaged to survive these grim times by isolating themselves from allcontact with peoples outside their group, cutting themselves off from centuries-old networks of inter-ethnic trade. Some groups even abandoned agricultureand adopted a nomadic, hunting-and-gathering lifestyle to avoid being detectedand captured. Several indigenous groups of the Manu and adjacent regionsremain isolated and hostile to outsiders today. Far from the popular notionof isolated indigenous peoples as being innocent savages, unspoiled by

contact with civilization, the isolated indigenous groups of Manu and Madrede Dios regions today are anything but uncontacted; instead, they arethemselves refugees from the violence of a global economy.

In the 1960s, the rich resources of the Manu basin once again attractedthe attention of traders in timber and animal pelts, as well as human souls.Sawmills were established on the lower Manu to exploit the rich reserves offine hardwoods such as cedro (Cedrela odorata L.) and mahogany (Swieteniamacrophylla King). Hunters also plied the lakes and forests of the Manubasin seeking jaguars, giant river otters, caiman, and other animals with valu-able pelts or hides. Meanwhile, missionaries of the Summer Institute of

Linguistics (SIL) employed acculturated indigenous guides to contact isolated


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Matsigenka populations who had retreated to the headwater regions in theaftermath of the Rubber Boom.

Celestino Malinowski, a taxidermist and naturalist of Polish descentwho had explored the Madre de Dios region since childhood, became

alarmed by the indiscriminate logging and hunting. He began sendingletters to Peruvian authorities about the situation, and through a series offortunate coincidences (see MacQuarrie, 1992, pp. 6366), his advice wasfinally heeded, and Manu was declared a Reserve Zone in 1968, and finallya National Park in 1973. Loggers, hunters, and missionaries were expelledfrom the newly created park (see MacQuarrie, 1992; Terborgh, 1999). Firearmsand extractive economic activities were also prohibited, though indigenouspeoples were permitted to remain as long as they engaged in traditionalsubsistence activities. A group of Piro-speaking people of mixed descent,

who had lived on the Manu and worked in various extractive economies

(rubber, logging, pelt hunting) since the Rubber Boom, moved downstreamand established new communities outside the park near the mouth of theManu River to avoid the new restrictions.

THE INDIGENOUS INHABITANTS OF MANU, THEN AND NOW

The linguistic, cultural, and territorial integrity of indigenous peoplesthroughout the Madre de Dios region was disrupted during the RubberBoom, as some groups migrated from adjacent regions, others were displacedor exterminated, and survivors were forced to intermarry or assimilate withother groups (Lyon, 1975). Furthermore, the nomenclature applied to indig-enous groups in historical sources has always been problematic. In somecases, a single term is applied to speakers of multiple languages or evenmembers of different language families (Lyon, 1975). Thus, our understandingof the human history of Manu Park is fragmentary and somewhat speculative.

Mashco and Mashco-Piro

The historical sources mention Mashcos on the upper Manu River, whomFitzcarralds men came into conflict with and ultimately massacred. Theterm Mashco appears to have been originally a Conibo (Panoan) word,used as long ago as the late 17th century to refer to an indigenous nation(possibly Piro) found on an eastern tributary of the Ucayali River (Alvarez-Lobo,1996, cited in Gow, 2006). Lyon (1975) locates the Mashco in the late 19thcentury in the Manu-Camisea-Mishagua watershed (i.e., the Isthmus ofFitzcarrald), describing them as a band of Arawakan-speaking Piro, known

variably as Mashco, Piro-Mashco, and Mashco-Piro (cited in Gow). The termMashco was originally used in Madre de Dios to refer to any isolated or

warlike groups (Lyon, 1975). However, Dominican priests working in the


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Madre de Dios region came to use Mashco as an ethnic denomination forthe Harakmbut-speaking Arasaeri and Amarakaeri (Califano, 1982), peoplesoriginally of the Colorado River (a Madre de Dios tributary) who are whollyunrelated to the Piro. To add to the confusion, a short word list of dubi-

ous origin for the Mashco language collected by Farabee (1922) in theManu-Mishagua watershed in 1907 contains a few words of apparentlyHarakmbut and a few of Piro origin (Lyon, 1975), contributing to the unlikelytheory that Mashco-Piro was a hybrid language mixing Mashco (Harakmbutlanguage family) and Piro (Arawakan language family; see Gow). Becauseof such confusion, the Harakmbut (or Hat) languages (e.g., Amarakaeri,

Arasaeri, Huachipaeri, Toyeri) were once erroneously assigned to theArawakan language family (Lyon, 1975).

Who were the Mashco massacred by Fitzcarrald, who essentially disap-peared from the ethnographic record for Manu? Gow (2006), drawing on

these historical sources and an interpretation of the enigmatic data concern-ing the isolated indigenous peoples of Manu and adjacent areas, comes tothe conclusion that the Mashco were, in fact, the very same Mashco-Piro orPiro-Mashco, that is to say Arawakan speakers of a Piro dialect. They weremassacred by Fitzcarralds men, and a few survivors fled to the forest, aban-doning agriculture and taking up a nomadic lifestyle. Their descendents arealmost certainly the enigmatic Mashco-Piro (see Kaplan & Hill, 1984), hunter-gatherer nomads who shun all contact with outsiders. One Mashco-Pirogroup been known from the Pinquen River on the south bank of the ManuRiver for decades. Three Mashco-Piro women emerged from isolation at thePark guard station of Pakitza along the Manu River in the 1970s, apparentlyfleeing from internal conflict within the group. These women, dubbed bylocal people as the Three Marias, later went to live in Matsigenka and Pirocommunities on the Madre de Dios River along the park borders. The Piro ofthe community of Diamante have confirmed that they speak a language ordialect that is close to Piro, but marked by numerous linguistic differences.Moreover, the Piro, in their tireless efforts to contact the remaining, isolatedMashco-Piro, have communicated with and even temporarily capturedMashco-Piro individuals (see MacQuarrie, 1992; Gow). However the main

group of the Mashco-Piro insist on maintaining their isolation. Since the mid-1990s, a second group assumed to be Mashco-Piro has appeared on thenorth bank of the Manu, apparently fleeing from incursions by petrochemi-cal companies and loggers on Rio de las Piedras (see Box 1).

The Mashco-Piro nomads today are almost certainly descendents ofthese original occupants of the upper Manu, decimated by Fitzcarralds attacksand forced to abandon agriculture and enter isolation. Yet were they theonly indigenous inhabitants of the upper Manu at the time of the RubberBoom? Historical sources are ambiguous (see Gow, 2006), but an examina-tion of oral history suggests that at least one other group was present. The

Matsigenka people living today at Tayakome and Yomybato mention a time,


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Box 1 Isolated Indigenous Groups Today

Anthropological studies carried out during the parks creation indicated thepresence of numerous isolated indigenous groups within the parks bound-

aries (dAns, 1972). The warlike Yora were contacted in the late 1980s,decimated by disease, and left park territories seeking better humanitarianassistance. The remote Matsigenka of the upper Sotileja and Cumerjali haveincreasingly emerged from isolation since 1990, also suffering from numer-ous respiratory epidemics. In 2004, a Polish film crew led by JacekPalkiewicz entered park territories along the Pii-Pii River, seeking thelegendary lost Inca city of Paititi, and in the process infected isolatedMatsigenka populations of the Pii-Pii and Mameria with severe respira-tory epidemics; a British film crew sconting for the Mark & Olly series waslikewise blamed for an outbreak of colds among isolated Matsigenka of the

Cumerjali (Shepard, 2008). Throughout the parks history, no effectiveaction has been taken to prepare for the immediate health emergencies orlong-term consequences of such contact situations with isolated groups.

There are still considerable numbers of isolated indigenous peoples inManu Park. The Mashco-Piro nomads of the Rio Pinquen migrate through-out the south bank of the lower Manu in close proximity to tour operationsand Westernized native communities along the Upper Madre de Dios River.Supported discreetly by SIL missionaries, indigenous Protestant convertsamong the Piro of the Ucayali and Madre de Dios regions have aggressively

sought to contact the Mashco-Piro for at least 15 yr. The Dominican missionof Shintuya has also made sporadic efforts to contact this group. Since 1996,clear evidence of hitherto unknown, isolated indigenous groups began toappear on the northern bank of the Manu river. The arrival of these peopleseems to have coincided with large-scale seismic exploration initiated byMobil Oil in the Rio de las Piedras, northeast of Manu Park. Though loggersand missionaries had made exploratory trips to the Piedras basin since atleast 1990, their incursions increased greatly after Mobil relinquished theconcession in 1998. On one occasion, in the late 1990s, isolated natives shotarrows at tourist boats. In late 1999, carrying out an ethnobotanical survey

close to Tayakome, Shepard and Yu and their Matsigenka guides weregiven warning calls by a party of isolated natives passing nearby (Shepard &Yu, 1999, cited in Huertas, 2002). More recently, with the explosion of ille-gal logging in the Madre de Dios province fueled by Brazils banning ofmahogany exports, isolated indigenous groups have attacked, and beenattacked by loggers working in the Piedras and adjacent areas, including theterritory of isolated indigenous groups near the border with Brazil (Huertas).

Since 2002, isolated groups have encroached with increasing frequencyand boldness on the territory of settled Matsigenka communities on theupper Manu. They have taken metal implements and food from Matsigenkahouses, burned one Matsigenka house located far up a north-bank tributarystream (perhaps as a warning not to return to that region),


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and fired arrows as warning shots at groups of Matsigenka who inadvert-ently approached them. Clearly, this group or groups are fleeing from tur-moil in the Piedras area and seeking new territories within Manu Park.

The Matsigenka claim that encounters have occurred with two distinc-

tive cultural groups, presenting different kinds of arrows and differentforms of bodily adornment. One group is assumed to be Mashco-Piro ofthe Piedras, surely constituting a distinctive population from the Mashco-Piro of the Pinquen (Gow, 2006). The Matsigenka doubt the second groupis Panoan (i.e., relatives of the Yora) due to the forms of body ornamenta-tion and arrow-making styles. Some suggest that this second group mayrepresent a final remnant of the Harakmbut-speaking Toyeri (Aogyeri),thought to have been wiped out in the 1950s (see Mashco and Mashco-Piro). One Matsigenka man says he encountered a group of four men atthe edge of his garden in the dry season of 2004, and exchanged, at a con-siderable distance, a few words of greeting in the Harakmbut tongue astaught to him by his deceased Kogapakori-speaking elderly relative.

During the dry season in June 2005, a large group (perhaps as many as100) of isolated people made a dramatic appearance at the biologicalresearch station of Cocha Cashu, leading to the evacuation of the station.The group migrated over a period of a few days towards Tayakome, wherethey repelled all attempts at approach or contact by Matsigenka communitymembers with a hail of arrows. There, the group forded the Manu River atthe mouth of Yomybato (Quebrada Fierro stream) and moved further into

the interior of the park towards the Sotileja River. The Matsigenka considerthis group to be Mashco-Piro. Never before had such a large and visiblemigration taken place, and the Matsigenka interpreted it as an indicationthat the Mashco-Piro group hoped to migrate on a more permanent basisto uninhabited territories in Manu Park, fleeing conflict with loggers in thePiedras basin. However, in August, a party of shotgun-wielding Yora whohad entered the park from the Mishagua headwaters (undetected by thepark of course, since no guard post exists there) encountered this groupnear the mouth of the Sotileja River. In the ensuing conflict, the Yora firedgunshots and wounded or perhaps killed at least one Mashco.

This worrisome scenario summons a profound sensation of dja-vu,considering the Yora tragedy of the mid-1980s, likewise provoked by pet-rochemical, logging, and missionary penetration. Despite this experience,and despite a tremendous growth in the parks funding and personnel inthe 1990s, little has changed in terms of the parks capacity to respond tohealth emergencies and conflict situations associated with the contact ofisolated indigenous populations. The park badly needs to establish con-trol posts along the Isthmus of Fitzcarrald, negotiate with the Matsigenkaand Yora populations to establish norms of conduct to avoid such con-

flicts, and set aside no-go zones for isolated populations to transit, espe-cially during the dry season when migrations are most common.


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probably before the beginning of the 20th century, when the Matsigenkamaintained friendly relations with a group they refer to as Kogapakori, ageneric Matsigenka term for all hostile groups, but whom the modernMatsigenka equate with the Harakmbut-speaking Toyeri. The Kogapakori

were considered the dominant group, and so Matsigenka families sometimesallowed a son to be raised by the them to learn the language. The large num-ber of Harakmbut loan words (especially animal, plant, and craft names) in thedialect of Matisgenka spoken in Manu Park bear testimony to this history ofcultural contact. The last such Kogapakori-raised, Kogapakori-speaking Matsi-genka, essentially the patriarch of the Tayakome-dwelling Matsigenka, died asa very old man in Tayakome in the 1980s. Fragments of Kogapakori vocabu-lary passed on to younger relatives are clearly Harakmbut in origin. Accordingto stories passed on by this man, the whites massacred the Kogapakori on theManu River at the tributary Kapiroshampiato (up-river from modern

Tayakome), and the survivors fled to the middle and upper Cumerjali River,the next major down-river tributary, where they were joined by other mem-bers of the same group fleeing warfare and epidemic diseases elsewhere in theMadre de Dios basin (P. Lyon, personal communication, January 27, 2007, alsomentions Huachipaeri oral histories of a small Toyeri group that crossed fromthe east bank of the Madre de Dios into the Manu watershed in the mid-20thcentury). However, the Kogapakori population at Cumerjali was massacredonce again by whites several years later. According to another piece of oralhistory, the whites were aided in this second massacre by vengeful Matsigenkaguides whose family members had been attacked and killed by the Kogapa-kori on the upper Sotileja. These Kogapakori are certainly among the so-called Mashcos massacred by Fitzcarrald, yet they would appear to bear nolinguistic relation to the Arawakan-speaking Mashco-Piro. Indeed, Gow (2006)tentatively identifies two separate Mashco groups: those along the Manu-Mishagua watershed, likely Arawakan-speaking Mashco-Piro, and a secondgroup of uncertain linguistic affiliation (possibly Harakmbut, though Gow isskeptical) along the Cumerjali. In light of Matsigenka oral histories, these latter

were almost certainly the Harakmbut-speaking Kogapakori or Toyeri, a noto-riously warlike Harakmbut sub-group, formerly dominant along the upper

Madre de Dios, assumed to have been driven to extinction.The last surviving Kogapakori (Toyeri) group in the Manu watershedconsisted of one man, his wife, and three sons, and they resided on a tributaryof the Yomybato (Quebrada Fierro). To rebuild his group, this man beganraiding the Matsigenka of the upper Sotileja to capture young girls to raise andlater marry. He captured two girls, and killed many Matsigenka during theraids. He had a reputation for fearlessness, bravery, and great skill at dodgingarrows in mid-flight. Finally, probably around 1950, the Matsigenka organizeda raid to eliminate the Kogapakori threat and recapture the Matsigenka girls.The Kogapakori man and his three sons were killed in an early dawn raid,

and his wife escaped into the forest where she subsisted, entirely alone, for


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many years before perishing: She could hunt with bow-and-arrow, and theMatsigenka found occasional traces (for example, finely made ceramic pots)of her solitary existence until as late as perhaps the 1970s. The Matsigenkagirls who were rescued had learned the Kogapakori language, and the older

one bore a male child nicknamed Mashco, the fierce Kogapakori chiefs lastheir. These women remarried Matsigenka men, and the younger one, whodied in 1987 in Yomybato, taught a few words of the Kogapakori language toher children. Words such as apanefor jaguar are clearly of Harakmbut origin.Her Matsigenka husband, still alive, says the proper name for this group wasAogyeri, perhaps a deformation of Eorieri, which would appear to be theHarakmbut word for people of the Madre de Dios (Eori) river (P. Lyon,personal communication by telephone, 2004). He considers these Aogyeri tobe identical with the near-extinct Toyeri.

Together, this evidence strongly suggests the presence of two culturally

and linguistically distinctive indigenous groups in the upper Manu at theoutset of the 20th century, both probably referred to as Maschos by contem-porary observers, and both of which were reduced almost to extinction byFitzcarralds attacks. The Arawakan Mashco-Piro have certainly survivedthrough the present, abandoning agriculture and isolating themselves fromall outside contact. The Harakmbut-speaking Aogyeri (Toyeri) surviveduntil the 1950s, though recent events suggest the possible survival of an iso-lated Harakmbut-speaking group through the present (see Box 1).

PiroThe Arawakan-speaking Piro were known as excellent navigators and shrewdmiddlemen, and through the 19th century carried out raids of local popula-tions (especially the Matsigenka) along the Urubamba to obtain slaves andlowland goods, which they traded with highland Quechua peoples and Span-ish missionaries for metal tools, fishhooks, glass beads, ceramics, and manu-factured cloth (Camino, 1977). In the closing years of the 19th century, thePiro were Fitzcarralds principal guides in discovering the Isthmus across theupper Camisea and Mishagua into the Manu headwaters. Names of most

major tributary rivers and some place names of the middle and upper Manu(e.g., Sotileja, Cumerjali, Cashpajali, Serjali, Tayakome, etc.) have a Piro deri-vation. These may be names applied by the original Mashco (i.e., Mashco-Piro) inhabitants, but more likely represent names given by the Piro explorersand guides who accompanied Fitzcarrald. Descendents of Fitzcarralds nativeguides, representing a mix of indigenous groups (Ashaninka, Matsigenka,Piro) but speaking the language of the culturally dominant Piro, occupied thelower Manu River after the collapse of the Rubber Boom until the early 1960s.

At that time, the Piro left and established new communities near the mouth ofthe Manu River, seeking to take advantage of new economic opportunities

especially employment by oil companies involved in exploration along Madre


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de Dios. Most of their descendents now live in the native community of Dia-mante on the upper Madre de Dios upriver from the mouth of the ManuRiver, with a population in 2004 of about 360. Some have married with mes-tizo families in the jungle town of Boca Manu, at the mouth of the Manu

River, while others have moved to the Urubamba River to mingle with ances-tral Piro populations there. A Piro man from the Urubamba, affiliated with SILmissionaries, has often used Diamante as his base for contacting the isolatedMashco-Piro bands in Manu and Rio de las Piedras regions (see Gow, 2006).

Yora (Nahua)

The Panoan-speaking Yora or Nahua (see Hill & Kaplan, 1990; Feather, 2001;Shepard, 2003) migrated to the Manu-Mishagua watershed soon after the col-lapse of the Rubber Boom. They apparently fled from similar disruptions in

their home region in the Purus basin to the northeast. They came to occupythe demographic and territorial void left by the retreating rubber tappers, andthe Mashcos they had massacred and displaced. In the early years of theiroccupation, the Yora obtained metal tools and other trade goods by searchingand excavating around the abandoned rubber camps, and ate from the rubbertappers abandoned banana plantations (MacQuarrie, 1991).

Later, the Yora came to satisfy their desire for trade goods by attacking andraiding the Matsigenka of the Manu headwaters (MacQuarrie, 1991; Shepard,1999a). Yora attacks also impeded the progress of loggers and later Shell seis-mic teams in their penetration of the upper Mishagua river (Zarzar, 1987). The

Yora made national headlines in 1982 when they attacked and repelled anexpedition of the Peruvian marines to the Manu River headwaters, intending toinaugurate construction of the Peruvian leg of the Trans-Amazon highway.Peruvian President Belaunde himself was flown in by helicopter. The group

was attacked with bow-and-arrow by the Yora, and returned fire, killing orwounding an unknown number (Moore, 1984). President Belaunde appearedon the cover of the national newspaper cradling a Marine with a Yora arrowthrough the neck (MacQuarrie, 1992, p. 284), and the trans-Manu highway plan

was shelved and remains inactive, though it is still visible on some maps.

A group of four Yora men were captured by loggers in 1984, and taken tothe Catholic mission town of Sepahua on the Urubamba River, where they weregreeted warmly and showered in gifts. A larger group came to Sepahua weekslater, and was given a similar treatment (Zarzar, 1987; MacQuarrie, 1991;Shepard, 2003). Notoriously, however, the Yora made one final attack on theMatisgenka of Yomybato at Herinkapanko in 1985 (Shepard, 1999a), 1 yr afterthey had initiated peaceful contact on the Urubamba River. By 1986, the contactprocess resulted in a devastating epidemic of respiratory diseases, reducing the

Yora population by one half or more (Shepard, 1999a; Shepard, 2003; see Box1). Seeking medical help, food, and material assistance, the Yora periodically

traveled down the Manu River in large numbers from 1986 to 1988, causing


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serious disruptions in indigenous communities of the Manu and Madre de Diosregions as well as at Cocha Cashu research station and the guard posts. Sensing alack of assistance, the Yora left the Manu watershed to receive medical and otherassistance from Protestant and Catholic missionaries operating out of Sepahua.

The Yora currently occupy the village of Serjali on the upper Mishaguawith a population of about 250. Small groups of Yora return occasionally tothe Manu River to hunt, fish, and gather turtle eggs on their way down theManu River to visit or seek work on the upper Madre de Dios or merely topasear (visit, wander). The Yora are currently struggling to take control oftheir territory and remove illegal loggers who have overrun the region sincethe Yora were first contacted (Feather, 2001). The creation of the Kugapakori-Nahua Indigenous Reserve in 1991 (Figure 2) has done nothing to stem thetide of illegal logging. Once feared warriors who inadvertently defendedManu Park from loggers, oil companies, and road-building crews for decades,

the Yora now need support from non-governmental organizations (NGOs)and the Peruvian government to defend their territory.

Matsigenka

The Matsigenka, currently the main indigenous population of Manu Park,did not occupy the main course of the Manu River until the 1960s. Oral histo-ries suggest that the Matsigenka of Manu immigrated from the southfromthe headwaters of the Madre de Dios and Urubamba. The Matsigenka ofManu speak a different dialect than that spoken in the Urubamba water-shed, and their dialect is characterized by a number of Harakmbut loan

words, apparently resulting from extensive Matsigenka-Harakmbut inter-ethnicrelations in Madre de Dios dating from before the Rubber Boom. TheMatsigenka came to occupy the upper Sotileja, Cumerjali, and other south-bank headwater tributaries of the Manu River by the middle of the 20th century,occupying the demographic void left by the Rubber Boom (Shepard 1999a).In the late 1950s, Protestant SIL missionaries employed native guides fromthe Urubamba to contact remote Matsigenka settlements in the Manu andupper Madre de Dios headwater regions. In the early 1960s, the SIL established

a settled village at Tayakome on the Manu River and built a schoolhouse, amedical post, and a small air strip (dAns, 1981; Shepard & Izquierdo, 2003).At its height, Tayakome had more than 200 Matsigenka from dispersedsettlements throughout the Manu and Madre de Dios (dAns, 1975).

Although SILs main goal was evangelical, their work also included healthcare, community organization, bilingual education, and linguistic and ethno-graphic study (Snell, 1964, 1973, 1978, 1998; Snell & Davis, 1976). SIL mis-sionaries also brought shotguns and ammunition, and the Matsigenkasupplied the missionaries with animal pelts to help finance the operations(Jungius, 1976). Partly because of this, soon after Manu Park was established,

the park administration expelled the missionaries.


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Starting in 1973, many Matsigenka evangelical converts exited fromTayakome. Enticed by missionary promises of trade goods and eternal salva-tion, approximately half the population of Tayakome abandoned Manu,crossed the Isthmus of Fitzcarrald to the Camisea River, and established a new

community at Segakiato. Other families, also from the original Tayakome mis-sion, established themselves along the upper Madre de Dios outside ManuPark, joining or creating new communities at Palotoa, Shipetiaari, andDiamante. Due to internal tensions, lack of missionary support, and fear of Yoraattacks in the late 1970s, several families from the remnant Tayakome commu-nity created new settlements on the upper Quebrada Fierro or Yomuivaatostream, later establishing the native community of Yomybato. Yomybato grewin the 1980s as survivors of Yora attacks in the upper Cumerjali and Sotileja fledthere. The Matsigenka communities of Tayakome and Yomybato have sincebecome the foci of the parks indigenous policies, especially since the 1990s,

when they became better organized and began making concrete demands forhealth care, educational facilities, and economic opportunities.

There are also a number of poorly known, isolated Matsigenka and relatedKogapakori or Nanti settlements in the Manu, Camisea, and Timpia headwa-ters (see Box 1). Since the mid-1990s, people from some of these isolatedsettlements, especially from the upper Cumerjali and Sotileja, have initiatedweeks- to months-long visits to Tayakome and Yomybato in order to socialize,trade for steel tools and other goods, and find spouses. A few families havemoved permanently to the Yomybato community. Likewise, a few men fromthe Nanti settlement of Montetoni (upper Camisea) have come to Tayakomeseeking spouses. Finally, starting in the 1990s, a few Matsigenka from the SIL

village of Segakiato on the Camisea rivermostly children of those who leftManu Park in the 1970shave returned to Manu Park seeking spouses, betterhunting grounds, and respite from the turmoil caused by the Camisea GasProject. The long-term residents of Tayakome and Yomybato view these returnmigrations, and the potential for more in the future, with ambivalence. Thoughthey have close familial ties with the migrants, the migrants are viewed as out-siders. Some bring with them an attitude of superiority over the more tradi-tional, less well-schooled people of Manu Park. The people of Tayakome and

Yomybato also fear illnesses and especially techniques of witchcraft, sorcery,and love magic that the migrants could have learned in the Urubamba basin.

Quechua

Many highland Quechua peasant settlements are found along the parkssouthern boundary. Also, numerous Quechua-speaking migrants came tothe Madre de Dios lowlands through government-sponsored colonizationprojects since the 1960s. However, the only Quechua-speaking populationto be found within the boundaries of the park is Callanga, a settlement of

about 200 at the southern tip of Manu Park (see Box 2).


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Box 2 Callanga: The Forgotten Indians

The highland township of Callanga near the southern tip of Manu haslong been an annoyance to Manu Parks administration, its inhabitants

viewed by some former park directors as illegal squatters and possibly

drug traffickers (Terborgh, 1999, p. 40). These squatters are in factindigenous Quechua who have inhabited the valley at the confluenceof the Pitama and Sihuas rivers for centuries. With an altitude of 1,200 m,Callanga has about 40 families with a total population of some 200.Complex kin relations with high Andean communities outside the parkmake it difficult to establish exactly who are permanent Callanga resi-dents. Most of the population is monolingual in Quechua. They culti-

vate cassava, tropical fruits, coffee, and coca in a subsistence economyinvolving exchange and trade with high Andean communities that pro-duce cold-weather crops such as potatoes and onions and are locatedsome 2 d by mule from Callanga at higher elevations outside the parkboundaries. Callanga families travel there to sell or trade the productsfor Sunday markets. The consumption and trade of coca leaves hasdeep cultural and historical roots and greatly precedes the contempo-rary drug trafficking trade. Callanga has some of the worst healthconditions yet documented anywhere in Peru and perhaps all of Latin

America, with an infant mortality rate of 124.2 per 1000; chronic infantmalnutrition of more than 70%; only 21% coverage for tetanus,measles, diphtheria, polio, and whooping cough vaccinations; high

rates of tuberculosis; and a maternal mortality rate of 38% (Cueva,1990; Rummenhoeller, 1997).Vegetation-covered stone ruins, walls, and roads in the vicinity

attest to the fact that Callanga was an ancient Incan trade enclave inthe Amazon region, and has probably been inhabited continuouslysince before the Spanish conquest. Francisco Toledo in his VisitaGeneral del Peru (15701575), mentions Callanga as an Indian landdivision in Paucartambo Province. In the 18th century, Callangaappears as a large hacienda on land documents from Paucartambo(Corregimento de Causas Ordinrias de la Provncia de Paucartambo,

Archivo Departamental de Cusco, Legajo 76, 17801784). By the end ofthe 19th century, the hacienda of Callanga was an important center ofrum and coca production, spanning an altitudinal zones from 1200 to3200 m. Through the early 1960s, when many isolated Matsigenkapopulations of Manu were contacted by Protestant missionaries, someMatsigenka families made an arduous 15-d or more journey on pathsthrough rugged Andean foothills to trade at Callanga, the only regionalsource of metal tools, beads, and other trade goods (Shepard &Izquierdo, 2003). When the last hacienda owner died in 1965,the Quechua peasants and sharecroppers took over the hacienda and


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MANU NATIONAL PARK: CURRENT STATUS

Manu National Park or Parque Nacional del Manu (PNM) is a UNESCOWorld Heritage site, considered one of the most important regions for biodi-versity conservation in the tropics. It includes the entire watershed of theManu River, from its headwaters in the Andes mountains over 4,000 m

above sea level, to the lowland tropical forests of the Manu floodplain.Manu was first set aside as a National Forest Reserve in 1968, and thendeclared a National Park on May 29, 1973, with a total area of 1,536,806 ha.Since its creation, PNM has officially been considered in its totality anuntouchable area, where the ecological integrity of the environment ispreserved, and only non-intrusive activities such as basic research arepermitted. Nonetheless, as we relate above, both settled indigenous com-munities and numerous isolated populations are found within this core. InMarch 1977, PNM was incorporated as the core region of a larger conserva-

tion unit, Manu Biosphere Reserve or Reserva de Biosfera del Manu (RBM),

divided the land up among themselves. One group remained in the lowlands currently within the boundaries of Manu Park, and the other grouptook the high Andean lands currently outside the Park. As such, Callangaremained unaffected by Perus massive Agrarian Reform of 1969 that

broke up former haciendas and titled the lands to peasants.Thus, Manu Park was superimposed partially onto this ancientAndean community with a complex though officially unresolved historyof land tenure. Peasant families of Callanga maintain traditions of ances-tral land rights that go back for centuries, and are passed on throughthe generations according to strict, clearly defined traditional norms.The people of Callanga are not easily willing to recognize the rights ofManu Park, a newcomer to their ancient territory, over land that theyhave used and inhabited for centuries. Nonetheless, the people ofCallanga were stigmatized, subjected to strict controls and treated as

invaders for many years by the park administration and park guards.Only since 1995 has the park directorship taken up a dialogue with theresidents of Callanga, enabling, for example, the peaceful transfer ofcattle from lowlands areas within the park to pastures in the high

Andean segment of Callanga outside the official park boundaries. In therecent re-zoning of PNM, the impasse was resolved and Callanga wasset aside under the category of special use zone (see Figure 1), excis-ing (or at least forming a cyst around) the troublesome township andrecognizing the de facto historical land tenure of this highland peasantcommunity within the borders of a strictly protected nature reserve.


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established through United Nations Educational, Scientific and CulturalOrganizations (UNESCO) Man and the Biosphere program. EncompassingPNM plus buffer zones, RBM has a total area of 1,881,200 ha; see Figure 1).In 1980, part of the buffer zone along the lower Manu River was designated

Manu Reserve Zone or Zona Reservada del Manu (ZRM), a category withprovisional protection status within Perus system of natural protected areas.Initially, sustainable-use practices in addition to tourism were contemplatedfor the ZRM, including selective logging, experimental forestry, and evenagriculture. In the long run, however, tourism has won out as the majoreconomic strategy for this zone; and in 2002, much of the ZRM was incor-porated into PNM, giving the park a total area of 1,716,500 ha.

FIGURE 1 Manu National Park, Madre de Dios, Peru. Locations of uncontacted indigenousgroups are approximate. The Matsigenka settlements of Sarigemini (1b) and Maizal (2b) arerecent and smaller satellite communities derived from Yomybato and Tayakome, respec-tively. The former Reserve Zone has been incorporated into the park proper. The Special UseZone, which borders the Yomybato river and the Manu river between 2a and 2b, indicates

the area set aside for subsistence activities by the settled Matsigenka communities.


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Manu Biosphere Reserve also includes the Cultural Zone, sometimesreferred to as the cooperation zone or the Andean/Amazonian multipleuse zone. The Cultural Zone, located at the parks eastern boundary alongthe fairly populous upper Madre de Dios River, contains a diversity of human

populations including legally titled native communities, Andean peasantcommunities and colonist settlements, semi-urban settlements, logging con-cessions, and private land holdings, including private nature reserves associ-ated with tourism ventures. The Cultural Zone has no legal protection status,but serves as a buffer zone of mostly stable, titled lands where sustainabledevelopment can be promoted among local populations, thereby avoidingmore destructive development or colonization projects. Especially since thelate 1990s, government agencies and NGOs have carried out projects in envi-ronmental education, forest management, agricultural outreach, health care,community-based ecotourism, and other activities in this zone.

More recently, the Manu Biosphere Reserve has been bolstered by thecreation of neighboring reserves of varying protection status, creating anextended buffer zone in surrounding areas (see Figure 2).

KUGAPAKORI-NAHUAINDIGENOUSRESERVE

The Kugapakori-Nahua Indigenous Reserve, with an area of 443,887 ha,was set aside in 1991 to protect a region inhabited by indigenous popula-tions with little contact with national society: the recently contacted Yora(Nahua) of the upper Mishagua River, and isolated Matsigenka-related pop-ulations (Nanti or Kogapakori, where Kugapakori is the official name ofthe reserve but is a misspelling) of the upper Camisea and Timpia. In theory,this reserve protects the back door to Manu via the Isthmus of Fitzcarrald.In fact, the Kugapakori-Nahua reserve is not included in Perus system ofprotected areas and has no state support. The upper Mishagua is thoroughlyinvaded by loggers from the Ucayali, while the Camisea is the site of a massivenatural gas extraction and pipeline project originally studied and developedby Shell, and currently operated by Plus Petrol. It is only through the effortsof individual indigenous communities and NGOs that any control or protec-

tion is afforded. Nonetheless, this reserve would appear to be critical forPNMs long-term integrity, and deserves serious study and support by Peruvianand international conservation organizations.

AMARAKAERICOMMUNALRESERVE

The Amarakaeri Communal Reserve was designated in 2002 as a communal-usearea for the main surviving Harakmbut-speaking group of Madre de Dios,encompassing their traditional territory throughout the headwaters of the RioColorado (or Karene) and other south-bank tributaries of the Madre de Dios

(Blanco, Chilihue, Inambari). Its area of 402,336 ha is separated from the Alto


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Madre de Dios and the Madre de Dios courses by a swath of lands titled orgranted as use concessions to various colonist and native communities. Goldmining throughout the Rio Colorado basin since the 1950s has caused extensiveenvironmental degradation and cultural change. Again, the reserve is notgoverned by strict conservation rules. However, by guaranteeing land rightsand promoting sustainable use by native communities, it is hoped that coloniza-tion and exploitation by outside resource extractors may be controlled.

ALTOPURUSNATIONALPARK

The Alto Purus National Park was created in 2004 with more than 2,500,000 ha,divided between the departments of Ucayali and Madre de Dios. The Madrede Dios portion of the reserve (depicted in Figure 1) is contiguous with

Manu National Parks northern boundary. The Ucayali portion (Purus River

FIGURE 2 Protected areas and indigenous reserves surrounding Manu National Park. NotIndicated are titled lands and concessions for resource extraction along the Madre de DiosRiver (here, white).


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proper) contains a large number of settled, Westernized indigenous com-munities, mostly of the Panoan language family, as well as several isolatedpopulations. Within Madre de Dios, the Purus Park embraces the headwaters ofthe Piedras River, and a territory of two or more isolated indigenous groups

about which not even the most basic informationlinguistic affiliation,population, territory, prior history of contactis known (Huertas, 2002).Prior to being incorporated into the national park, the upper Piedras wasincluded within Mobil Oils exploration block number 77, an enterprise crit-icized both for its disturbance of pristine forest and its likelihood of contact

with isolated Indians (Shepard, 2002b). Mobil registered numerous signs ofisolated indigenous groups, but no direct or hostile encounters werereported. Soon after Mobil began its exploration activities in 1996, hithertounknown, isolated indigenous groups suddenly appeared in Manu Parkalong the north bank of the Manu River, due south of the area impacted by

Mobils seismic operations (Shepard, 1998b, cited in Huertas). It seems likelythat these groups had fled to Manu seeking safer territories after the massiveinflux of outsiders, helicopters, and heavy equipment. Mobil relinquished itscontract in 1999 without pursuing petroleum extraction. However, the region

was then overrun by loggers from the city of Puerto Maldonado. Illegalmahogany loggers remain in the region today, despite the establishment of thenational park. Reports of conflicts between illegal loggers and isolated indige-nous groups in the Piedras River basin have become increasingly frequent; andgroups of the latter, apparently fleeing conflict in the Piedras, now migrate on a

yearly basis into Manu Park, provoking ever more frequent and aggressiveencounters with the settled Matsigenka populations (see Box 1).

LOSAMIGOSCONSERVATIONCONCESSION

The Los Amigos Conservation Concession on the Rio de los Amigos is situatedbetween Manu River and Rio de las Piedras, along the parks eastern border.Like the adjacent Piedras, the Amigos basin was completely overtaken by log-gers in the years following Mobils retreat from Block 77. In 2002, the non-profit

Amazon Conservation Association (http://www.amazonconservation.org) was

granted management authority over 1.6 million ha of the Amigos basin. Loggerswere removed, and the reserve is currently being used to promote research andtourism. The Amigos watershed includes territory used by isolated indigenousgroups from the Piedras and Manu basins, and areas have been set aside withinthe concession to accommodate these groups annual migrations.

MEGANTONINATIONALSANCTUARY

Megantoni National Sanctuary, with 216,003 ha, was set aside as both a wildlife

sanctuary and a cultural reserve for the Matsigenka people. It stretches from


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the Pongo de Maiique canyon on the Urubamba River to the headwatersof the Timpia River along Manu Parks back door northern boundary, territoryof the so-called Kogapakori: isolated, feared, apparently hostile groups closelyrelated to the Matsigenka. The reserve includes the fantastic rock formations

along the Pongo de Maiique known as Tonkiniku (place of bones) inMatsigenka, considered both sacred and fearsome as the final resting place ofdead souls. Though government conservation agencies have little involvementhere, the Matsigenka communities in the region are well organized and politi-cally active, intent on defending the sanctuary from various destructive devel-opment options including roads, colonization projects, petrochemical drilling,and a long-proposed hydroelectric dam (Rivera, 1991). A Matsigenka ecotour-ism enterprise has operated on the Timpia River with marginal success.

THE LEGAL LANDSCAPE

Today in Peru, it would be impossible to design a national park without consid-ering the rights and participation of local indigenous people (see Table 1).But when PNM was created in 1973, Peruvian law did not yet recognizeindigenous territories, which were considered to be empty. Under thedevelopment-minded government of President Fernando Belaundes firstterm of office in the mid 1960s, the Amazon interior was viewed as a vastand under-exploited emptiness: a no-mans land about which the state

reserved the right to make land-use decisions, and a demographic void tobe filled with colonists seeking untapped riches. Belaundes mission state-ment appears in a book entitled, appropriately, The Conquest of Peru byPeruvians (Belaunde, 1959). The state gave preference to colonizationprojects, hoping to harness, inhabit, and civilize the empty Amazon inte-rior; and to logging, mining, cattle ranching, and oil prospecting projects(Moore, 1984). Indigenous people were often expelled from their own tradi-tional territories, or subjected to exploitative economic relations at the hands ofhacienda owners and labor bosses. The Belaunde government likewisestimulated colonization and development projects in the department of

Madre de Dios, including logging concessions throughout the Cultural Zoneand petroleum exploration blocks immediately surrounding and even cross-ing Manu Park boundaries. Most egregiously, Belaunde initiated planning ofan interfluvial canal and highway that would have cut through the middle ofPNM and connected the Peruvian coast with the trans-Amazon highway inBrazil, a project which he attempted to inaugurate in 1982 during his sec-ond term of office, with disastrous results (see Yora [Nahua], above).

In 1974, the socialist military government of General Velasco Alvaradodecreed the Law of Native Communities (D.L. 20653), granting indigenous

people certain collective rights over land. However, the law was formulated


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in such a way as to recognize indigenous territorial rights only at the locallevel, the so-called native community, and not at the level of larger cul-tural-linguistic groups or geographic regions. In this way, large traditionalterritories were fragmented into small, autonomous communities, eachrecognized legally and organized according to democratic principles. This

formulation was intended to put to rest the specter, raised during the

TABLE 1 Peruvian Laws Pertaining to the Status of Indigenous Peoples in Parks

Year Law name Law numberSummary and relevanceto native populations

1974 Ley de Comunidades

Nativas

Decreto Legislativo

N 20653

Law of Native Communities:

establishes basis of legal landtitle for indigenous communitiesthroughout Peruvian Amazon.

1975 Ley Forestal y de FaunaSilvestre

Decreto LegislativoN 21147

Forestry and Wildlife Law: generalpolicy for conservationand protected areas; nativeinhabitants of protected areasare not mentioned.

1978 Ley de ComunidadesNativas y de Desarrollo

Agrario en lasRegiones de Selva y

Ceja de Selva


Revised Law of NativeCommunities: caveats andrestrictions to 1974 legislation;notably, legal land title in parks

is not allowed, though nativecommunities can remain inparks if they do not interfere

with conservation objectives.1990 Cdigo del Medio

Ambiente y losRecursos Naturales


Code for the Environment andNatural Resources: nativecommunities can receive legalland title in parks, as long asthey do not interfere with theconservation objectives (incontradiction to above).

1994 International LaborOrganization

Convention 169 onIndigenous Peoples

Ratified as R.L.26253

ILO Convention 169: requiresparticipation by indigenous

peoples in administration, use,and protection of naturalresources; forced resettlement ofnative people is illegal.

1997 Ley de reas NaturalesProtegidas

Ley N 26834 Law of Natural Protected Areas:special use zones permitted innational parks where inhabitants

who predate the park canpractice land use; but legal landtitle notpermitted.

1999 Estrategia Nacional paralas reas NaturalesProtegidas PlanDirector (INRENA 1999)

Decreto SupremoN 010-99-AG

Strategy for the implementationof the 1997 Protected Areas Law(above)

2001 Reglamento de la Ley dereas NaturalesProtegidas

Decreto SupremoN 038-2001-AG

Implementation of the 1997Protected Areas Law (above)


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nascent indigenous movement of the early 1970s, of independent indige-nous nations within the Peruvian state. Nonetheless, the Native Commu-nity Law provided a crucial legal framework of land tenure for indigenouspeoples, and has ultimately led to the titling of tens of millions of hectares

of land to native communities throughout the Peruvian Amazon.The revised 1978 Law of Native Communities (D.L. 22175) further weak-ened indigenous rights to land tenure by stipulating that only agricultural landscould be held in communal title. Forested lands (the vast majority of land in anative community) are treated as government property ceded for communaluse, with the government maintaining the right to withdraw or condition thatuse. These stipulations were clearly intended to ensure that indigenous territo-ries would not present an obstacle to colonization, road construction, petro-chemical and mineral exploration, and other development projects.Furthermore, the 1978 law also states that native communities in national parks

are not allowed to receive land title, though they are permitted to remain aslong as their activities do not interfere with the parks conservation objectives.Nonetheless, three Andean peasant communities and one lowland native com-munity were titled in the 1980s with territories partially overlapping PNM.

In direct contradiction to the 1978 Law of Native Communities, the morecomprehensive 1990 Environmental and Natural Resource Code (D.L. 613)recognizes land tenure and the resource-use rights of indigenous communi-ties within natural protected areas. As such, this legislation conforms with thelanguage of Convention 169 of the International Labor Organization (ratifiedin Peru in 1994 by R.L. 26253), guaranteeing the rights of indigenous andtribal peoples to participate in the use, economic benefits, administration, andconservation of natural resources. During a 1993 meeting betweenMatsigenka inhabitants, indigenous NGOs, and park officials (see Shepard,2002a), the park officials were shown the paragraphs in the 1990 NaturalResource Code that specifically permitted the titling of native communities

within national parks; they had not been aware of this aspect of the legislation,and were surprised by the revelation. More recently, the 1997 Law of ProtectedNatural Areas (L. 26834) attempted to resolve the contradictory legal situationby permitting the creation of Special Use Zones (see Figure 1) for ancestral

communities in national parks. Such special zones provide official recognitionfor native communities without granting them actual land title. However, it isstill possible that politically ambitious native communities in parks could takeadvantage of the contradictory legislation and push for land titles.

In addition to the contradictory laws governing land title in parks, thelegislation that ostensibly limits indigenous activities in parks is open to differ-ent interpretations. For instance, several important laws (see Table 1) grantancestral indigenous populations the right to remain in parks as long astheir traditional activities do not interfere with a parks conservation goals.However, a more restrictive interpretation could argue that even traditional

subsistence activities have sufficient environmental impact to be deleterious to


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a national parks objectives, given a large enough population size. Thus, it isnot clear whether legal weight rests more on the total environmental impactof indigenous activities, or on the fact that those activities are traditional. Thesituation becomes even more murky when one tries to define traditional

subsistence activities. One reading might include only the activities of isolatedor so-called uncontacted populations. However, the historical record indi-cates that the isolated, nomadic populations of Manu are not traditional atall, but rather refugees from Rubber Boom violence. On the other hand, thecurrent settled populations of Tayakome and Yomybato (and increasingly, themore isolated Matsigenka populations with whom they trade) are utterlydependent on steel tools, Western medicines, other imported technologies,and, increasingly, formal school education. These are distinctly non-traditionalinnovations, and yet were introduced by missionariespriorto the founding ofthe park. In any event, restricting access to trade goods, medicines, and for-

mal education would drastically lower their quality of life and probably con-travene their broad legal rights as Peruvian citizens, as well as thoseguaranteed by the Environmental and Natural Resource Code.

THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL POLICIES OF PNM

It is clear that the core, untouchable area of Manu National Park (PNM)was created on the ancestral territory of indigenous Amazonian and Andeanpeoples and that those populations have legal rights to the use of that landfor the foreseeable future. Even today, the total indigenous population ofPNM is not known, due to significant numbers of isolated groups in variousparts of the park. The focus of the rest of this article is therefore on theMatsigenka population of about 420, settled in two legally recognizedMatsigenka communities, Tayakome and Yomybato.

For now, the status of human populations and the control of humanimpacts remain a subject of debate and polemic among state institutions,NGOs, biologists, anthropologists, and indigenous organizations. Despite theobvious need and many attempts over the years, PNM has never developed

effective, long-term policies concerning local indigenous and non-indigenouspopulations. During most of the parks history, no anthropologist or other pro-fessional with social science training has been on the staff. The longest tenure

was between 1985 and 1988. Since that time, a number of park anthropolo-gists have been hired on a temporary basis using momentary funding oppor-tunities, but have been let go once full funding responsibility falls back onINRENA, and the impact on native community relations has been negligible,becoming a standing joke among the Matsigenka: That one came one time,and never came back. Then there was that other one we didnt even meet!I wonder how long this latest one will last? It would appear that INRENA and

PNM do not place a high priority on maintaining a full-time anthropological


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professional. Thus, since PNMs inauguration, its anthropological policies havetended to be vague, even unwritten, sometimes contradictory, and frequentlychanged, paralleling the legal history related above. To the inhabitants, therationale and regulations of PNM remained mysterious through the first two

decades of the parks existence, until the early 1990s, when these inhabitantsbegan demanding information, attention, and assistance.

TABLE 2 Timeline of PNMs Anthropological Policies

Year Author/institution Name/descriptionImplications for

communities Status

1968 La Molina ForestrySchool

Habitat zoning Recommends variousresource-use zonesfor nativecommunities

Neverimplemented

1970s PNM Informal rulesconcerning nativepeoples

Native inhabitantsallowed to movefreely in park andmaintaintraditional subsistenceactivities

Largely followedthrough thepresent

1985 Rios et al. 1st Master Planfor PNM

Very littleanthropologicalinformation orplanning; nativecommunitiesmaintain traditionallifestyle or else

leave the park

Overall planimplemented,though aspectsreferring to nativecommunitiesnevercommunicated to

them1989 Helberg 1st Anthropological

Plan for PNMGuidelines for

anthropologicalpolicy anddialogue withcommunities

Neverimplemented

1997 Rummenhoeller 2nd AnthropologicalPlan for PNM

Preliminarydocument tocoordinate actions,improve quality oflife, and promoteparticipation in

park management

Never officiallyimplemented,but some of itsrecommendations eventuallyadopted

2002 INRENA andPro-Manu

2nd Master Plan Harmonize the culturaldevelopment ofindigenous peoples

with objectives ofNational Park

Implemented

2002 INRENA and ProManu

Revision of the 2ndAnthropologicalPlan

Assurance oftraditionalindigenous rightsin park territories,better educationand health access,participation in

park management

Not yetimplemented,thoughimplementationrequired per the2nd Master Plan


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The history of PNMs anthropological policies can be divided into threemain phases: (a) an early phase, from the inception of the park through themid-1980s, guided by unrealistic and idealistic notions and with little directcontact or communication with native communities; (b) a phase of crisis,

from the mid-1980s through the late 1990s, when the native communitiesbegan to react to the parks negligence during the prior decade; and (c) thecurrent phase of rapprochement and negotiation, marked especially by theinauguration in 19971998 of the Matsigenka ecotourism lodge with directINRENA support.

The First Decade of Official Policy: 19731985

The Belgian anthropologist Andr-Marcel dAns (1972, 1975), who partici-pated in early anthropological surveys, saw the creation of PNM as a chance

to protect native peoples from outside influences that would change theirway of life or subject them to undignified or inhumane conditions; for exam-ple, forced labor or debt peonage. But the main impetus for creating PNMcame from biological conservationists, which meant that the parks location,rationale, and boundaries were determined according to ecological anddefensibility criteria: high wildlife abundances and the opportunity to con-serve an entire watershed and an unbroken altitudinal gradient. There was noconsideration of the existing territories, resource- use patterns, or ancestralrights of lowland or Andean indigenous populations, nor were local popula-tions consulted about the creation of the park. In 1968, soon after the declara-tion of a national forest reserve in Manu, a team from the Forestry ResearchInstitute at La Molina University proposed a habitat zoning system for theMatsigenka communities, including areas for hunting, forest product collec-tion, and agriculture (Ros, Vasquez, Ponce, Tovar, & Dourojeanni, 1985).Curiously, the work was carried out without any study of actual Matsigenkaland or resource-use practices, and not surprisingly, this first attempt atanthropological policy making had no practical consequences. As the firstintervention aimed at native populations, this anecdote appropriately sets thestage for a long history of top-down policy making that has shown little

respect for or interest in indigenous cultures, and often verged on the absurd.The early administrators of PNM established a set of guidelines govern-ing the activities of native peoples in the park. For the most part, these rules

were not written down or communicated explicitly to the native inhabitants.However, because of the isolation and cultural conservatism of the Matsigenkacommunities, the rules have proven to be somewhat self-enforcing.

1. Indigenous residents of PNM are free to carry out traditional subsistenceactivities such as hunting, fishing, gathering, and agriculture throughoutthe park. Firearms are prohibited, yet other non-traditional technologies

such as fishhooks, line, and nets are permitted.


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2. Commercial logging and the traffic and sale of animal skins and hides, aswell as wild animals are prohibited. Raising cattle or swine, even for sub-sistence reasons, is not allowed.

3. Indigenous residents of PNM are allowed to circulate freely in the park.

Although they need no authorization to enter or leave the park, they aresubject to search and confiscation of non-authorized items, especiallyfirearms and munitions. However, since there are no explicit rules,depending upon the historical moment and the disposition of the parkguard, traditional food, craft, and extractive items (e.g., smoked fish ormeat, turtle eggs, palm thatch, arrows, medicinal saps, or bark) assumedto be destined for commercialization outside the park have been confis-cated, usually to the great consternation of the person carrying them.

4. Persons or groups entering PNM whose activities could affect the indige-nous way of life are subject to search and are usually required to obtain

prior authorization from the Peruvian government.

The main idea behind these norms is to prevent indigenous communi-ties having access to technologies (such as firearms) or extractive economicopportunities that could harm the ecology of the park.

In 1985, a document known as the Master Plan (Plan Director) wasapproved for PNM (Ros et al., 1985). The plan lacks any detailed anthropo-logical, ethnohistorical, or human-ecological analysis. It considers only twoacceptable options for native populations: conserve their traditional life-styles and remain in the park, or opt for Westernization and leave the park;however, no provisions were made to enforce the second option. Effec-tively, the Master Plan provided the justification behind the unwritten rulesput in place by previous PNM administrations, as described above. The tacithope of preservationist-minded conservationists was that the park wouldgradually become depopulated as native inhabitants were drawn towardtrade centers and economic opportunities outside the park (Helberg, 1989).Those who subscribed to such ideas underestimated the strong ties of nativepeople to their lands, resources, and traditions. In fact, as surrounding areassuccumb to colonization and resource pressure, PNM may become increas-

ingly attractive to both Westernized and isolated indigenous peoples as asafe haven, a crucial point to which we return below (see Common Interests,below).

The Growing Crisis: Matsigenka-Park Conflicts, 19731985

The expulsion of Protestant missionaries from the Summer Institute ofLinguistics (SIL) in 1973 marked the first important conflict between PNMand the Matsigenka, and arose out of the protectionist-idealist vision of thepark: by removing outside influences, the indigenous population would

return to an idealized, but historically inaccurate, natural state. The flaw in


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that plan was that economic, education, and especially health-care necessitieshad already been generated by the missionaries 10-yr presence in theregion. In the early years of the parks existence, a guard post was estab-lished at Tayakome. Due to insufficient material support, lack of appropriate

training, and nonexistent park rules, the park guards stationed there pro-voked a series of conflicts with the inhabitants of Tayakome that areremembered bitterly to the present day: sexual relations with native women,a heavy dependence on the community for food, abuse of authority, alcohol-ism, and other transgressions. After many complaints, and also for logisticalreasons, the guard post at Tayakome was finally relocated downstream.

The removal of the SIL left a tremendous political, economic, educa-tional, and medical vacuum in Tayakome that the park did little, or nothing,to fill. One Matsigenka schoolteacher who had been trained by the mission-aries continued teaching for a few years in Tayakome after the SILs official

departure, but he eventually gave up due to a lack of support both withinthe community and from the outside. A group of families moved downstreamfrom Tayakome and began sporadic trade relations with the scientists at theCocha Cashu Biological Station, bartering fish and agricultural products for

Western goods. Another group of families, hoping to escape cold epidemics,attacks by the hostile Yora tribe, and social conflicts within the community,left Tayakome beginning in 1978 to establish new settlements on the upperQuebrada Fierro tributary, constituting the community known today as

Yomybato.The most critical conflicts between PNM and the communities were

precipitated by the precarious health situation during the decade followingthe parks inauguration in 1973. After having lived in a settled community

with missionary health care for a decade, suddenly the Matsigenka were leftwith no Western medical assistance. Their health status during the decadeof isolation that followed was abysmal. Epidemics of respiratory infections

were frequent and fatal, and outbreaks of unusual new illnesses resulted inaccusations of sorcery, death threats, and the exile of some communitymembers. Analysis of demographic data from the village of Tayakome,

where the SIL school and health post had been, shows a 50% decline in the

rate of population growth during the decade of 19751984, after the mis-sionary exodus, when compared with the prior decade of missionary presence.Between 1974 and 1980, 15 of the 25 children born in Tayakome diedduring that period, a grim 60% rate of infant and child mortality (Shepardet al., 2009).

During 1986, anthropologists Magdalena Hurtado and Kim Hill spentmuch of their fieldwork time and all of their personal medical resources(plus several thousand penicillin tablets donated by the parents of G. Shepard)treating a particularly virulent outbreak of respiratory infections amongMatsigenka and Yora populations (Hurtado, Hill, & Kaplan, 1987; Hill &

Kaplan, 1990). The researchers made arrangements with SILs air fleet, Alas


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de Esperanza (Wings of Hope), for an airdrop of additional medicines andpossible removal of an acutely ill patient. Though unable themselves toaddress the dire health-care needs of the indigenous communities, PNMofficials denied SIL access to Manus airspace, apparently in fear that medical

assistance might represent a foot in

Documents

2010 Shepard Et Al. Manu Trouble in Paradise J Sust Forestry