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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
World
Kimberley Brown in Quito

‘Biologists were not part of the crime food chain’: why Ecuador’s scientists are facing violence, threats and kidnapping

A person with a rucksack and sunhat seen from behind on a very green mountain ridge with a range of hills in the background
The Mirador trail in Podocarpus national park, where research has become impossible since illegal mining began. Photograph: Dave Stamboulis/Alamy

Raul*, a biologist from Quito, has been leading conservation projects in the Chocó rainforest in north-east Ecuador for more than 20 years. It has not been easy, he says, recalling the threats he has received over the years for reporting illegal hunters and loggers in reserves, but he never considered giving up.

Last year, however, tensions in the area escalated after violence soared on the country’s coast. Accounts of almost daily killings in the cities of Esmeraldas and Guayaquil emerged as gangs appeared to fight over territory, while forced recruitment in rural areas increased, as did extortions, known locally as vacunas, or vaccines.

Last August, while attending meetings in Quito, the capital, Raul received a phone call from colleagues in the Chocó. They had heard that a local gang planned to kidnap him the next time he went to the territory, hoping to get money and information – or else.

“They simply said: ‘They’re going to kidnap you tomorrow. Don’t come in,’” says Raul, who asked for his real name not to be used as he still fears for his safety. “When you get news like that, it makes my blood run cold.”

Raul did not return to the Chocó for months, but when he finally went back, he did not share his travel plans with anyone and tried to be as discreet as possible. “I don’t think we’re prepared to deal with this kind of thing,” he says. “At least, I’m not.”

Raul’s story highlights the struggles of many scientists in Ecuador who are conducting fieldwork with diverse populations and critical ecosystems in a country facing a growing security crisis.

Amid a presidential campaign where the incumbent, Daniel Noboa, is up for re-election, security remains a pressing issue in Ecuador. Like El Salvador’s President Nayib Bukele, the Ecuadorian leader has launched a crackdown on crime – a move that has drawn criticism for human rights abuses. However, his initiative has not yet effectively addressed the country’s crime problem.

In the past four years, Ecuador’s murder rate has risen nearly sixfold, and it is now considered one of the most violent countries in the region.

As fieldwork in remote rural areas gets more dangerous, scientists fear they may be forced to abandon projects, leaving vulnerable ecosystems at risk and communities isolated.

Javier Robayo, director of the local conservation foundation EcoMinga, has worked in the Chocó rainforest for 12 years since they created the Dracula reserve along Ecuador’s northern border with Colombia. He says the border region has always been controlled by armed groups, notably Colombia’s Farc guerrillas, before they laid down their arms after the 2016 peace accords, followed by precarious talks with the ELN guerrilla group (which have since broken down). Yet that has never affected their work until now.

Today, these armed groups have become fragmented, while other gangs have emerged, all vying for control of illegal goldmining in the region. Robayo has reported some of this mining to the authorities, but local officials told him they were unable to stop it. “If we do anything, they come and kill us,” he was told.

Forced recruitment of young people and farmers locally has also increased, making it unclear who works for whom and who one can trust, says Robayo.

Last year, EcoMinga had to cancel research trips by visiting academics aiming to study the region’s various endemic species and a bird-monitoring project with students, as their safety in the area could not be assured. He also had to halt a new water-monitoring project they had just received funding for and were about to implement with local communities.

Robayo fears that any money coming in would put EcoMinga and those communities at increased risk of extortion and kidnappings.

“Until a few years ago, biologists were not part of the crime food chain,” says Robayo. “Today, the effects of illegal mining can quickly be associated with environmental damage, contamination, loss of species and loss of livelihoods.

“And there we play an important role where we can show what’s going on,” he adds. “That’s where we start to make it uncomfortable.”

Renato Rivera, director of the Ecuadorian Organised Crime Observatory (OECO), a non-profit organisation, says armed groups have acted as de facto governing bodies in the border region for more than 40 years. They enforce social norms and bring order to the territories under their control, as state institutions in the area have been weak or nonexistent, allowing gangs to achieve a high level of legitimacy with local populations, he says.

The lack of a strong state presence and institutions means the state has been incapable of dealing with these new threats in the area, such as fragmented gangs, recruitment of local populations and increased illegal mining, says Rivera.

Over the past four years, armed groups have also sought to control goldmining in the Amazon rainforest, putting scientists working in conservation or with Indigenous populations in danger as they stand to expose these activities, says Rivera. Three of Ecuador’s six Amazon provinces saw a significant rise in homicides in the past year, according to OECO research.

Saúl Uribe, an anthropologist working with Indigenous communities in the Colombian and Ecuadorian Amazon for more than 15 years, has been researching how the extractive sector has affected their communities.

Though previously he never had problems doing fieldwork in Ecuador, he says tensions are now high, as community members confide in him stories of disappearances, threats and extortions, particularly in the border area and mining regions.

Though it has not stopped him from working in these areas, Uribe says it has prevented studying specific topics, particularly mining, as it puts communities and researchers in danger.

Research in some reserves is also off-limits, as mining has become a source of income in these areas, he says, such as the Podocarpus national park, the Cofán Bermejo ecological reserve, and El Zarza wildlife refuge, all in the Amazon.

Juan Yépez, director of Big Mammals Conservation, says wildlife and environmental assessment projects have been cancelled on the coast, in provinces such as Manabí, Guayas and El Oro, and in forests and reserves where organised crime operates. He says some biologists have already received death threats, warning them to leave areas they are studying, such as in El Oro.

Given the local and global threats faced by the climate and biodiversity crises, any impediments to forest conservation are a big setback, Yépez says. “We are definitely exceeding the planetary limit. So, preventing the development of conservation and training programmes is a terrible detriment to everyone,” he adds.

As many scientists also work with local communities, they too will be left isolated in violent territories if researchers are forced to pull out.

Giannina Zamora, a specialist in geography and health with the Aldea Foundation, an education charity, says funders have already withdrawn money from projects in areas seen as high-risk, such as Esmeraldas province, where she has worked for more than 20 years.

That has made it harder to access these territories, making it more challenging to involve local communities in conservation initiatives, which is a pre-requisite for them to succeed.

But more isolated communities then find it harder to confront illegal acts in their territories, says Zamora. In some cases, outside researchers or partnerships with universities are the only ways these communities can access healthcare, education and jobs, she says.

Rivera says that for the state to gain control of these territories it needs to intervene, not just with police and military force but also with healthcare, education and social programmes.

In the Chocó, Raul says local organisations have allied to confront the violence collectively and adjust to these new realities, as he does not expect the situation to change soon. They plan to get special training but also expand local networks to alert them to dangers in the region.

“The uncertainty that is going on at the moment is huge,” says Raul. “We don’t know what will happen as a country.”

* Name has been changed to protect his identity

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