Managing Deforestation in Madagascar: Ending Colonial Power Dynamics

Abstract

Madagascar, with its biodiversity and rich natural resources, has been a conservation priority hotspot for almost a century. Even so, the island ecosystem is threatened by deforestation and land degradation from economic activities. Deforestation is an especially poignant issue, as it threatens wildlife species and erodes the natural landscapes. In fact, deforestation has been a concern in Madagascar since its colonization by the French in 1896. The road to ending deforestation is more complex than it would first appear, requiring an understanding of the various social, economical and political tensions of the island. The French used the country, exploiting its natural resources and cutting down large swaths of Indigenous forests to plant cash crops like vanilla, rubber, and coffee. Furthermore, they set up laws prohibiting local Malagasy people from using the land for traditional “slash-and-burn”, or “tavy” farming. In their eyes, the Malagasy were wasting precious natural resources. Modern political crises have further exacerbated this model of foreign intrusion in the Madagascan landscape and on its people; the country has been obliged to open its doors to traders, prospectors, and land buyers to pay back loans from the IMF and the World Bank. Conservation efforts in Madagascar, while at odds with the IMF and World Bank initiatives, follow the same basic model of neo-colonialism, which depends on western leadership and funding. Even though a recent tide of research and policy change has tried to increase involvement of Malagasy leaders in equitable forest management, conservationists are still accused of preferring forests over humans. The criticism these programs have received largely stems from a conflict of worldviews between the Malagasy, who value traditional ancestral land rights, and foreign interest groups, who hold western free-market values. These findings suggest that more community research, policy advocacy, and mediation is needed to bring local Malagasy leaders to the international table. There must be a real willingness to listen to these leaders and to compromise current conservation objectives for the locals’ benefit.

Introduction

The Island of Madagascar is home to one of the greatest biodiversity hotspots on earth. Because of its long separation from mainland Africa, evolutionary processes over time have created a biodiversity paradise in which eighty percent of species are endemic; they are not found anywhere else on earth. Among these endemic species are lemurs, fossas, and no less than 59 different chameleon species (Kotler). Because Madagascar comprises such a rare collection of biodiversity, it has become a perfect microcosm for studying modern conservation policy. A wave of recent research into the politics of environmental management and conservation in Madagascar centers on land use issues – in particular, the problem of extensive deforestation, both legal and illegal, which escalated throughout the French colonial period (1896-1960) and continues into the present. Projected effects of continued forest degradation are discouraging; many species have already become extinct, and studies show an increase in grassland biomes replacing the once ubiquitous forest.

                The rapid changes taking place across the island make it easy to understand why many conservationists want to simply ban all further deforestation, creating protected areas in which no deforestation is allowed. These preservationists are often accused of prioritizing conservation over people. Many policies do not properly account for the damages done to local populations who rely on the land for sustenance and who value the land as part of their traditional inheritance. In essence, many aspects of the fight for conservation in Madagascar have become a good guy versus good guy conflict between the interests of humanitarian development and conservation policy. The struggle is also inherently unbalanced, as conservationists are often backed by rich donors and international government interest groups; the locals struggle to find representation. To a large extent, this unequal partnership has remained constant for the last several hundred years, dating back to French colonial government (1896 - 1960). During the colonial period, the French disenfranchised many local tribes and demonized their practice of slash-and-burn, or “tavy” farming: the practice of creating farmland by cutting down, burning, and planting on previously forested areas (Scales 111). The government model that emerged in colonial Madagascar created sharp distinctions between locals, political powers, and foreign investors; that model continues to be reflected in contemporary environmental politics.

Traditional efforts to curb the effects of deforestation in Madagascar have perpetuated the complex political and economic challenges of the island. They often employ similar power dynamics which privilege foreign donors to the disadvantage of native populations. A new wave of research focuses on creating conservation solutions that benefit both parties. These solutions have included incentivized conservation programs, and improved partnership resource management between the locals and their government. While many of these recent changes have produced real benefits, there is a continuing general trend of distrust and miscommunication between the government and the Malagasy tribes.

Part of the problem is the government’s obligation to repay the country’s IMF and World Bank loans, which make the government leaders more answerable to outside organizations than to their own people. The artificial gap created between the government and the Malagasy is further exacerbated by the Malagasy’s incompatibility with western-market values. Many Malagasy choose not to integrate into Western markets, even when given the opportunity, preferring instead to maintain their traditional lifestyle. Therefore, effectively preserving the forests through improved partnership resource management requires restoring the ties of responsibility between the government and the Malagasy.

Thus, the future of Madagascar’s forests is threatened by a complex history of social, political, and economic tensions. These findings suggest that more community research, policy advocacy, and mediation is needed to bring local Malagasy leaders to the international discussion table concerning conservation and forest management. Furthermore, there must be a real willingness to listen to these leaders and to compromise current objectives for ones that would better suit the needs of the locals, while still conserving natural forest landscapes.

Past Deforestation Patterns and Future Projections

Before examining the socio-political and economic factors surrounding deforestation, it is important to highlight the impact that deforestation could have on the island if left unchecked. Satellite imagery has emerged as a particularly useful way of looking at rates of deforestation in the past in order to build prediction models for the future. One study of a 10,000 km2 area in the spiny forests of Eastern Madagascar  found that 45% of “initial closed forest area” has been lost since 1973. The study also found deforestation rates to be comparatively higher in rural areas, where locals and immigrant farmers continue to practice tavy farming because of weak government enforcement of the tavy ban (Brinkman). While it is important to recognize that this study only examined a relatively small area of the island, other investigations report similar concerns. As early as 1990, researchers were using aerial photography to determine the extent of deforestation before, during, and after the colonial period (Fig. 1) (Sussman). Although the figures in this study estimate near total forest cover of the island before the arrival of man, contemporary researchers like Christian Kull question the idea that the island was ever completely forested before the arrival of man, as Figure 1 would suggest (Kull 162). However, the figures estimating forest cover from 1960 onwards are actually based on observable data from aerial photography, as mentioned above, and are therefore more credible. As one can see, there was a dramatic increase in deforestation between the 1950s and 1984. This period coincides with Madagascar’s trade liberalization programs, which will be discussed later in this paper. When it comes to actual deforestation projections, a study of five major forested areas in Madagascar, which predicted deforestation patterns and CO2 releases up until 2030 concluded, “the current rapid population growth in Madagascar (+3.39% per year) will significantly increase the intensity of deforestation by 2030 (up to +1.17% per year in densely populated areas).” Their projections for two of the five areas studied seem small compared to the drastic deforestation which occurred in the 20th century; however, consider that an increase in the deforestation rate the the predicted +1% per year would mean the total disappearance of these forests in less than one hundred years. (Fig. 2-3) (Vieilledent).

Fig. 1-3: Fig. 1 (top), shows the deforestation history of the island based on data taken from aerial photos up until 1984. Fig. 2 (left), shows the locations of the five areas studied by Vieilledent’s team. Fig. 3 (right), shows deforestation and released CO2 projections for areas 1, Andapa, (top of figure) and 5, Fort-Dauphin II, (bottom of figure). 

Effects of French Colonialism

After years of resistance, 1896 saw the official transfer of political power in Madagascar from tribal chieftains to French colonial governance.  Upon colonization, the French promptly began the noble task of making the land profitable, sustainable, and civilized. As was typical of many colonial governments, the French used their colonies primarily for resources and exotic exports. Also typical was their penchant for justifying such practices in the name of civilizing the savages. Their efforts led to the deforestation of many native trees to enable cash crop plantations and displaced the Malagasy from their ancestral lands.

Despite these facts, it would be unfair to say that no one in France during the colonial period cared about the long-term environmental effects of their colonial activities in Madagascar. Certain contemporaries were quite conscious of the importance of forest preservation and conservation: “Il est nécessaire de veiller jalousement à la préservation de la forêt” (it is necessary to watch/guard jealously the preservation of the forest) (Bergeret 29). In January 1887, the French government passed a bill of regulations entitled “l’exploitation rationnelle de nos colonies” [the rational exploitation of our colonies], which put limits on, among other things, how much land could be deforested (31). However, many contemporary conservationists felt the government had not gone far enough. In 1931, French Zoologist Louis Lavauden published Le problem forestier colonial. In it, he dispels the limitless forest myth, claiming that colonial exploitation is “un danger sérieux pour la forêt” [a serious danger for the forest]. The study’s objective was, therefore, to suggest solutions for conserving the forests “en vue d’une utilisation économique rationnelle et indéfinie” [for rational and indefinite economic utilization]. Even as a zoologist, the economic aspect of forest resources was vitally important, as he affirms, “ on ne s'est occupé des forêts colonials que pour leur exploitation.” [we are only interested in colonial forests in order to exploit them]. (Lavauden 17, 6, 14). From these actions, it becomes clear that France had a vested interest in natural resource management, if only for the economic rewards that could be gained from over-exploiting the land.

The prevailing view toward conservation and deforestation remained the same, namely, the idea that the locals were, and had always been, the worst offenders. On a visit to Madagascar, Lévy, the assistant administrator of the Colonies, says that to grow rice, a low-value crop, the locals had rolled back the limits of the precious forests with their tavy farming practices. He believed the grassland areas he observed at the time must have once been a completely forested and pristine forest island paradise (28). Today, more and more evidence suggests Madagascar was never completely forested. In fact, the low population density at the time would have given tavy-farmed land enough time to completely reforest before it was used again, making it an intelligent and highly developed system for the time (Scales 107).

Solutions for dealing with the problem of locals ‘destroying’, or more accurately, ‘wasting’ the land centered on re-education programs and land use bans. Another contemporary French writer laments, “Pendant longtemps encore ces indigènes auront de la difficulté à comprendre que la seule source de profits dont on puisse tirer vanité est le travail. Il y a là une affaire de patient ‘education…” (Bergeret 29). Translated, the author says the indigenous people will  have difficulty understanding that the only way to make good profits is work, implying that they are lazy, and continues to say there is a great need for patient education of these ignorant people. In addition to their work ethic re-education programs, the French introduced “a system of private land tenure and land registration to replace local customary land tenure, and the awarding of large concessions to large (mostly French) individuals and companies so that they could develop large plantations of cash crops.” (Scales 108). Furthermore, in order to enforce these new and “improved” colonial land usage regulations, and to assert dominance over the local population, tavy farming was restricted and/or prohibited in 1913 (Brinkman). Ironically, one study found that “logging and other activities based on the extraction of natural resources contributed significantly more to deforestation in Madagascar during the early 1900’s” than tavy farming ever did (Desbureaux). In fact, a single concession awarded in the 1950s to the owner of a sisal plantation (a cash crop) razed 9,000 hectares and 9.4% of all forest growth in the central Menabe region between the granting of the concession and 2005. (Scales 109). A further example of the systematic transfer of land rights away from the native population is found in the Code of 1874, which gave forestry agents the right to “sensibly restrain” (translated) indigenous land rights, which degraded the traditional agro-pastoral way of life: “poverty increased - even misery” (translation) (Bergeret 33). All this evidence suggests that concern for the environment was largely a ruse to maintain moral high ground while bringing greater and greater swaths of land under government management.

Therefore, the French writers’ concern for the environment actually played into the hands of wealthy French investors who made the case that in planting the island with large cash crop plantations, they would also be doing the biosphere an indirect favor as well. At least they wouldn’t be burning the plants and scorching the earth. Additionally, they wouldn’t be wastefully burning nature's treasures for a “low value” crop; the same writer from the previous paragraph goes on to suggest the land be replaced with rubber trees and vanilla, both of which would have made a lot of money on the contemporary markets of Europe (28). To this day, one can find Madagascan vanilla at the local Walmart. The creation of non-native cash crop plantations as a viable environmental solution was praised by none other than the zoologist, Lavauden, “ il faut donc améliorer, transformer ces forêts primitives; les faire passer...de l'état sauvage à l'état domestique.”  [it is necessary to improve, transform these primitive forests; to move them from a savage state to a domestic state]. He was particularly in favor of creating massive Eucalyptus plantations for this purpose (Lavauden 17-19). The audacity of a zoologist to suggest literally replacing an entire biome of endemic flora and fauna is almost incomprehensible to the modern reader. Yet, at the time, it was seen as a sensible compromise between economic and environmental concerns, two areas that struggle to find mutually beneficial solutions to this day.

When the colonist’s treatment of the Malagasy people is added to their less-than-successful handling of environmental and economic concerns, it is clear the Malagasy have every right to be wary of Western initiatives to “improve” the island. This wariness is seen in the Malagasy’s refusal to give up tavy. Tavy’s strong ties to the local culture and identity have made it a “means of resistance to state authority” (Desbureaux). Though it continues to be banned, it remains a part of life for those living in remote areas, where laws are hard to enforce (Brinkman). Thus, the modern conservationist’s failure to stop tavy farming in the name of forest preservation, can largely be attributed to their blundering colonial predecessors.

Effects of Modern and Ongoing Political Crises

Despite having reclaimed their independence on June 26, 1960, the Malagasy have experienced a continued atmosphere of political unrest, which has left Madagascar heavily dependant on foreign powers for its survival. The 1970s saw an increase in the country’s assertion of sovereignty when Lieutenant-Commander Didier Ratsiraka was named head of state following a coup. The country was renamed  “Democratic Republic of Madagascar” and Didier’s party, the Arema party, began to nationalize much of the economy. In 1986, however, he began to promote a market economy and trade liberalization (Madagascar Profile). These changes would likely never have taken place under the socialist Ratsiraka regime if it had not been for the country’s economic downfall at the time, requiring the president to seek multiple loans from the IMF and the World Bank; “The granting of these standby and related agreements was linked to a coordinated set of structural adjustment requirements designed to foster the liberal, export-oriented economy favored by the IMF and the World Bank.” (Structural Adjustments). Thus, although the loans were taken out in an effort to help the country survive, they were also a step backwards toward colonial times, as the country continues to face the reality of economic colonialism to foreign loan masters.

Nevertheless, economic and political conditions seemed to be stabilizing until a series of political campaigns and demonstrations reached a boiling point in January 2009. Dozens of citizens were killed during violent protests over the closure of opposition media outlets. As a result, the President was forced to resign and Andry Rajoelina, with the backing of the military and the high court, came into power. (Madagascar Profile). As a result, the EU voted to cancel all foreign aid until fair and legitimate elections were held. This was disastrous for the country’s economy, which depended largely on EU aid (Kotler). Elections were eventually called, however, political stability did not last long. In May 2015, the opposition party claimed a majority vote to impeach President Hery Rajaonarimampianina. The President countered, claiming a majority of parliamentarians had not even been present at the meeting in order to have a majority vote. On June 13, the High Constitutional Court sided with the president, however the opposition rejected the ruling. (Ackbarally). Following the attempted coup, the US attempted to mediate the situation, calling the country to “respect the rule of law and to open national dialogue”. However, The Indian Ocean Commission’s General Secretary, Jean Claude de L’Estrac, claimed a foreign power should not be given the leading role in mediating another country’s national crisis (Ackbarally). This again raises the longstanding issues of sovereignty in name, but not in practice in Madagascar.

What is certain, however, is the environmental disaster that has sprung up in the wake of the continued political turmoil. Primatologist Patricia Wright laments that, prior to the 2009 political coup, ecological health in the island’s forests had fast been becoming a “conservation success story”, “now”, she says, “everyone assumes they can literally take whatever they want” (Kotler). The ‘take-whatever-you-want attitude’ is perhaps most aptly represented by the resurgence of illegal rosewood logging. An article by journalist Jeremy Hance claims the resurgence of the illegal “logging crisis began in March 2009 when destabilization following a government coup allowed loggers to enter several of Madagascar’s world-renowned parks and illegally log rosewood” (Hance), One of Rajoelina’s first acts when he took office in 2009 was to lift a ban on the harvesting of precious hardwoods, such as rosewood and ebony.” (Kotler). In fact, unbelievable as it may seem, an article from the Telegraph claims illegal logging is now the “most severe threat to Madagascar’s dwindling northeastern rain forests.” As if that were not bad enough the illegal rosewood trade is also “depriving the government of millions of dollars of taxable revenue”, as rosewood is sold for about US$5,000 per cubic metre. (Braun). Furthermore, the illegal trade is not entirely a homegrown epidemic. International companies, willing to turn a blind eye to the harvester’s obtainment methods, transport the precious woods all over the world. In one particularly incident, the then French president, Nicolas Sarkozy, was lobbying in Paris for funding to end harmful deforestation practices while the French shipping company, Delmas, was simultaneously preparing to ship between 4,000-5,000 tons of rosewood out of Madagascar (the company had technically filled out all the paperwork before the deadline for the rosewood ban was enacted in November of 2009). While the French president cannot be held responsible for the actions of every French company, conservationist Derek Schuurman feels the French government’s support of Andry Rajoelina showed “an obvious willingness to help the current Malagasy government export the rosewood.” (Hance) This observation further makes the case for policy reform and stable government as primary solutions for bridging the gap between environmental political rhetoric, like Sarkozy’s, and market dealings. The French company would never have had an opening to ship rosewood if it had not been for the political turmoil earlier that year during which Rajoelina lifted the rosewood ban. Thus, any foreign involvement in Madagascar’s politics should be centered around creating political stability and policy reform if there is to be real improvement in forest conservation practices.

Trading Agreements and Globalization

As previously discussed during the discourse on modern political turmoil, Madagascar has been called upon by the IMF and the World Bank to increase its trading agreements and international participation in their market economy,  In return the country is granted large amounts of loan money. A recent example is Foreign Direct Investment: “The World Bank has repeatedly encouraged Madagascar to do more to attract Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) in order to promote economic growth and reduce debt.”  As a result, there has been a large-scale increase in land acquisitions by foreign investors, who are attracted by Madagascar's cheap land and labor force. (Scales 352). As pointed out above, this is precisely the same sort of agenda that was promoted by the French Colonial private “land tenures”, which gave money to large interest groups and disenfranchised local farmers. And these modern “land tenures” have certainly been noteworthy.

In 2008, nearly half of Madagscar’s arable land, and 3.2 million acres of farmland, were leased to South Korea’s Daewoo Logistics upon the negotiation of a 99-year contract. Daewoo was charged about $12 an acre. A spokesperson for Daewoo said the crops would be used to “ensure our food security” by growing large amounts of corn. About one third of the land was set to produce palm oil and other biofuel ingredients, a renewable energy source that has more to do with energy self-sufficiency than with food security.  The company also assured they would use “totally undeveloped land which had been left untouched.” (Walt). The implication is that this land was being wasted beforehand. This is nothing but a reflection of old colonial attitudes in a modern trading economy. Fortunately in this case, president Rajoelina cancelled the lease upon taking office after the 2009 political coup. Daewoo had planned to “invest about $6 billion over the next 20 years to built the port facilities, roads, power-plants, and irrigation systems necessary to support its agrobusiness”, creating jobs for the locals (Walt). In short, the lease would have been exactly the kind of deal promoted by the IMF and World Bank structural agreements because it would have improved the country’s infrastructure and economy at both a governmental and local level. In spite of these benefits, Rajoelina pointed out the the sale and lease of Madagascar’s land to foreign entities was anti-constitutional and “accused Mr. Ravalomanana of running the Indian Ocean island as a private company.” (Berger). As a country, the government must also be concerned with what is best in the long run, not just with profits. While the country’s economy and job rocket may have skyrocketed as a result of this land deal, it would also solidify the country’s dependence on a foreign government. Furthermore, the government’s willingness to lease such a large land area for agricultural purposes while continuing to ban tavy casts doubt on their professed commitment to forest conservation.

While, this particularly large-scale project was cancelled, the demand for land in order to cultivate crops and biofuel ingredients is only growing in Asian nations like China and India. Nations such as these seek to increase their hold on biofuels for reasons of “energy security” and “climate change mitigation” (Scales 120). Thus a terrible irony is created as large areas of forest, a key absorber of CO2 and other greenhouse gases, are cut down in order to produce biofuels for countries seeking to mitigate climate change.

Even with all these negative environmental effects, it is hard for a conservationist to criticize the current economics-based conservation system. The current system, which holds the country accountable to its donors interests, has also benefitted them: “At present, more dollars are pouring into conservation efforts in Madagascar than any other part of Africa.” (Conservation in Madagascar) Additionally, conservationist Patricia Wright praises foreign aid, stating, “Because of big inputs from conservation agencies - U.S. AID [Agency for International Development], the European Union - the infrastructure of the country improved. The protected areas were being protected.” (Kotler). Just as with the IMF loans, this money is used to hold the government responsible to donor’s interests, only now, those interests are centered on the creation of more national parks and better forest management practices. Even though this money has the potential to promote laudable environmental and humanitarian goals, it is still an extension of outside donors stepping in to fill the monetary gap that the current government cannot fill. It would be naive to suggest all foreign donations to the country suddenly stop with beneficial effects; however, it is possible to remain aware of the influence that money holds. With that awareness comes the ethical responsibility to work towards goals that the country itself considers most important.

A Brief Overview of Incentivized Conservation Policies

Conservation policymakers over the last several decades have been striving to create new regulations on forest land use that incorporate the locals in the planning and execution of natural resource management. These modern efforts focus primarily on incentivized conservation. Incentivized conservation includes the sale of carbon credits, community forest management, and government grants to locals who agree to certain farming regulations. However, despite being undertaken with the best of intentions, many of these projects continue to reflect old colonial power dynamics because those with money and power are still disproportionately represented in decision making and execution. Therefore, the discussion over conservation policy has evolved away from whether or not natural resources should be cooperatively managed and toward addressing how this can be accomplished.

Incentivised resource management became the pet project of Madagascar’s conservation circles after the Durban World Parks Congress of 2003. The outcome of the conference encouraged the country to take a green economy approach to its conservation policies “tripling the island’s protected area network.” A World Bank report justified the creation of more national parks by “assigning economic value to natural resources and ecosystem functions. (Brimont 306). This shows that the goals of economists and conservationists in Madagascar are actually more aligned than it would first appear. Finally, the congress established that governance of protected areas should be conducted so that “decisions are taken in a legitimate, fair, and inclusive way” (Virah-Sawmy et al. 245). This undoubtedly signals an improvement over past policies that relied more heavily on outside management.

Problematically, however, research done on the methods used to bring more Malagasy on board with the parks program showed “the consultations [with the local Malagasy tribes] were processes of persuasive education...regional consultation leaders conflated ‘consultation’ with sensibilisation” (Corson 208). In other words, the consultation leaders persuaded the Malagasy to accept policies that they had had no say in creating. The new park territories were already mapped out. The management strategies had already been decided beforehand. Political ecologist Catherine Corson goes on to assert that “an effective future consultation process would begin, rather than end, with funding and resources devoted to long-term discussions with villagers and the development of maps that recognize village resource needs, current use patterns, and community protected zones.” (Corson 210). Incentivized forest management has the potential to work if conservationists are willing to be receptive to putting some of the local needs over biodiversity priorities. For the moment, these incentivized programs represent a positive step forward despite certain persisting failures in governance structure.

The flagship incentivized forest conservation program that emerged from the Durban talks is the UN’s Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation project (REDD+). In essence, this program encourages “industrialized high-income nations that produce large quantities of greenhouse emissions [to] pay tropical low-income nations to maintain forest cover, therefore reducing emissions from forest loss and degradation.” (Brimont 302). Locals who had previously depended on tavy farming, for example, would be repaid from income generated from carbon credits. REDD+ has been hailed as a win-win solution because it reduces deforestation and does not require industrialised nations to actually reduce their own emissions. While it ingenious in theory, REDD+ has had difficulties succeeding in Madagascar. The Makira REDD+ project in north-eastern Madagascar, despite having received licensing to sell carbon credits “has not made significant headway” nor has it even “concluded a sale agreement”. These failures may be due in part to the “drying out of voluntary carbon markets due to the stagnation of international negotiations on mitigating against climate change.” (308). For these carbon credit schemes to work, industrialised countries must be committed to reducing greenhouse gases. In an idealised world, the REDD+ program would certainly be feasible. At present, however, “the cost of saving Madagascar’s forests while reducing poverty is higher than the money that can be generated through carbon markets”(Scales 350), meaning that locals would have to find an alternative means of income to continue abstaining from subsistence tavy farming. There is, however, no guarantee that REDD+ can provide sufficient money to create genuine livelihood alternatives for the Malagasy. Furthermore, “community-based resource management in Madagascar has been undermined by corruption as well as elite capture benefits.”(Brimont 310). No amount of wealth distribution or community management funds can guarantee long-term economic stability for local tribes. Perhaps more problematic is the realization that carbon credits once again make the locals directly dependent on industrialised nations for their own income and survival. What at first appears a savvy way to protect the environment while simultaneously putting money into the pockets of poor farmers is actually another manifestation of economic colonialism.  

        Most promising among the various conservation efforts taking place in the wake of Durban Vision are the Community Forest Management (CFM) programs. The basic idea of CFM is to transfer most of or all of a forest’s conservation management positions over to local leaders. All the work would be done by the locals, with limited supervision from outside interest groups. One cost-benefit study of CMF’s found, “the estimated impact is positive, but small and not statistically different from zero.” (Rasolofoson 1) This suggests more time and research will have to be done to determine the end results of the project, but at present, there seem to be more pros than cons. Local communities stand to benefit greatly from such a partnership, as there is a lot of international money invested in protected areas, which in theory, would be handed over to the managing community; “Madagascar's new protected areas, which include most CFM sites, received up to US$ 10.5 million of external support in 2011 alone.” However, questions arise over who among the Malagasy will actually reap the benefits of CFMs. It is possible that such programs will create greater inequality and jealousy between tribes and leaders of different social rankings. Furthermore, “While the average effect [of CFM’s] may be close to zero, some households may benefit and others may suffer.” (Rasolofoson 2, 6). These inequalities would likely develop quickly, as forest management contracts “require the services of environmental mediators to manage negotiations over resource use between the state and communities” and “access to such resources is often not possible for small communities and illiterate rural households.” (Scales 350). Therefore, well-to-do Malagasy communities might outcompete poorer ones, creating unnecessary social tension. On the other hand, such an outcome may be inevitable in a country where capitalist, free-market values continue to be imposed on its people through the country’s economic dependence on the World Bank and the IMF.

The Malagasy Mindset

Despite all the hype surrounding incentivised conservation programs, they have not yet achieved widespread success. This is due in large part to the Malagasy tribes’ resistance to abandon cultural land use values, especially those relating to tavy. They may struggle to find representation in government, but when it comes to policy enforcement, the Malagasy are the vox populi.  It is they who will ultimately decide which projects succeed or fail, thus it is important to understand their perceptions of nature and tradition, which govern all aspects of their land-use policy. These perceptions should mould and inform future policy approaches.

The Malagasy have a culture of ancestor worship. An anthropological study conducted in Androy, a rural region located in southern Madagascar, studied some of the effects ancestor worship has on notions of the land and land use. Each new birth within the clan is a contract with the ancestors: “The contract grants the living the right to a life within the clan and to the land it defines the moral and practical relationship between the living and the land and it’s non-human inhabitants”.  As a result of these deeply ingrained contracts with the ancestors, the study found that while locals “had only a vague understanding of the state and its rules, they were well aware of the local custodianship and the ancestral laws of traditional land owners.” They believe that wherever one’s ancestors are buried, “one has the rights of ‘master of the land’ or ‘tempon-tany’, which are to be followed and respected by guests, migrants, and strangers.” (Von Heland). Therefore, the government can make any number of new agreements and land use treaties, but as far as the locals are concerned, the land is still divided up between the tribes. As these rules are part of a sacred contract with the ancestors, attempting to force them into new land arrangements by creating national parks and redrawing farm territory tears at the fabric of their spirituality and social structure. In order to ensure the success of cooperative forest management under the current system, local values and institutions would have to be dismantled. Modern policy, which invests decision-making power in the state and its donors, is essentially asking the Malagasy to renounce their title as “masters of the land.”

Apart from the ancestral contracts with the ancestors, local ideas about farming promotes tavy: “Farmers see [tavy] as a way of making the land productive, feeding their families, and maybe even, in good years, making a profit.” (Scales 349). Malagasy people do not consider tavy farming to be harming the environment. Certain tribes, notably the Betsimisaraka farmers, believe that heat is necessary for seed germination, therefore, burning the above ground vegetation ensures the ground will be ready to accept seeds (115). Ritual prayers are said for tavy planting and harvesting, which honor the ancestors, affirming “the existence of the past in the present.” (Desbureaux).  

An economic approach to the environmental concern surrounding tavy farming might require giving locals access to investment markets and business opportunities. In fact, one might suggest that increased access to global markets might even be able to convince locals to assimilate into the western conservationist mentality. Experiential evidence from one study, however, suggests the contrary: there is “a cultural norm ensuring subsistence security that is impeding them [the natives] from full-market immersion.” Even though efforts to encourage farmers to grow environmentally sustainable cash crops have been successful, the increase in vanilla and coffee plantations have not decreased incidents of tavy farming (Laney).  The farmers simply cultivated both cash crops and tavy plots. Community research found that “socio-cultural barriers” were preventing local farmers from fully participating in commercial markets, even when offered significant incentives. Although 60% of locals in the study area would agree to stop tavy farming practices in exchange for investment incentives such as irrigated rice fields and small scale dams, a startling 29% would refuse to abandon their traditional lifestyles at any cost (Desbureaux). Clearly, incentivized programs are not having their desired success.  

All of these revelations about the Malagasy worldview raise ethical questions about how emerging policies in the future should be enforced. Tavy farming may have had a minimal impact on the forests of the past, but as has already been shown, population growth and increased globalization has accelerated the rate of forest degradation caused by tavy. It is therefore difficult to find an appropriate trade-off between conservation groups concerned about preserving biodiversity and locals concerned about their cultural and traditional legacy.

Conclusion

When confronted with the complex web of history and politics surrounding the continued problem of unsustainable deforestation in Madagascar, it is clear that efforts will not succeed until the native Malagasy people are treated as equal partners in conservation efforts and natural resource management. For years they have been systematically marginalized, disenfranchised from their ancestral lands, and prohibited from practicing traditional farming practices. Modern political turmoil and repeated government upheavals following political coups have further undermined the rule of law in some of the most vulnerable conservation hotspots. The Malagasy are therefore understandably resistant to government and NGO-funded projects.

While more recent conservation initiatives like the ones coming out of the Durban Vision talks have begun to bring local leaders to the negotiating tables, they have not gone far enough, often retaining the old power dynamics reticent of colonialism. The mindset and spiritual practices enmeshed in the local mentalities about the environment are ignored, when they could be used to promote nature conservation because of the respect for nature already contingent in the culture. All of this suggests the responsibility of policymakers to foster  increased accountability attached on the part of government officials to their own people, while simultaneously decreasing their accountability to international entities such as the IMF and the World Bank.

The future is hopeful, as Community Forest Management programs are already making an effort to bring Malagasy leaders to the discussion table. However, mediators and policy advocators are needed to ensure that all Malagasy tribes are equally represented, so as not to create power inequalities between within local communities over who receives government grants. Furthermore, instead of contracting locals to enforce management policies that have already been decided, they should be given an opportunity to influence those policies. In this way, they would be given a degree of control over whether and not to continue integrating into a market economy.

Of course, there will never be a perfect solution for everyone.  Because of the globalized world of today, it would be foolish to think everything could revert to the way it was before colonialism. The Malagasy will never be able to retreat into the forests and resume a romanticized agropastoral way of life. However, they should not be getting the short end of the stick every time. In order to prevent this from happening, however, means asking those in power to give up a measure control which they have enjoyed, even felt entitled to, for centuries. This may seem impossible, but in a world in which new policies are constantly being created, all that is required is that current states of government do not remain static. There must be a continuous effort towards improvement.

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