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The Socio-Ecological Ramifications of Boom Crops: Examining the Impacts of Oil Palm Expansion upon Food System Vulnerability in the Lachuá Ecoregion, Guatemala
by
Anastasia Hervas
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
Geography & Planning and School of Environment University of Toronto
© Copyright by Anastasia Hervas 2019
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The Socio-Ecological Ramifications of Boom Crops: Examining the
Implications of Oil Palm Expansion upon Food System Vulnerability
in the Lachuá Ecoregion, Guatemala
Anastasia Hervas
Doctor of Philosophy
Geography & Planning and School of Environment University of Toronto
2018
Abstract
Integration of contract farmers into oil palm production schemes has been
advocated as a strategy for spurring rural development and improving food
security in the global South. In Guatemala, oil palm contract farming has been
promoted through a contentions government program, which has led to rapid
expansion of the crop in the country’s northern lowlands, including the Lachuá
Ecoregion where this study is set. In this thesis, the socio-ecological food
systems framework is used to demonstrate ways in which oil palm expansion
has altered food system vulnerability and adaptation capacity in an oil-palm
dominated community in the Lachuá Ecoregion, as compared to a neighbouring
community with minimal oil palm presence and prevalent staple maize farming.
Effects of oil palm on local land transactions, employment, and household
income are examined in relation to cross-scalar dynamics of self-provisioning
and market-provisioning of food. Ecological variables including the conditions
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of forests, water, and soil nutrient cycling are also considered as they lead to
changes in local food access and consumption patterns, notably the reduced
consumption of fresh vegetables, fruits, and herbs. This study challenges the
official narrative that smallholder oil palm cultivation catalyses rural
development, improves food security, and deters peasant land sales. Results
indicate that oil palm expansion has accelerated land sales and put pressure on
subsistence farming, while providing limited benefits to the host community –
namely non-inclusive and precarious jobs. At the same time, it exacerbated
many existing food system vulnerabilities, such as degraded soils and shrinking
forest resources, and introduced new ones, including increased exposure to
global commodity shocks. The study concludes that, in the absence of profound
efforts to address the underlying causes of food system vulnerability, the
promotion of cash crops like oil palm will exacerbate inequalities in food access
and weaken the food system overall.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents .......................................................................................................................... iv
List of Tables ............................................................................................................................... viii
List of Figures ............................................................................................................................... ix
List of Appendices ........................................................................................................................ xi
Preface: Limitations, Disclaimers, and Acknowledgements .......................................................1
Chapter 1 .......................................................................................................................................11
1. Introduction ..............................................................................................................................11
1.1 Introduction ......................................................................................................................11
1.2 The Study ..........................................................................................................................13
1.3 Thesis Outline ....................................................................................................................16
Chapter 2 .......................................................................................................................................19
Frameworks and Methods ......................................................................................................19
2.1 Origins and transformations of ‘food security’ ..............................................................19
2.2 Cash crops and food security...........................................................................................23
2.3 Targeting smallholders and contract farmers ...............................................................25
2.4 Oil palm contract farmers and development .................................................................28
2.5 The food security link ......................................................................................................35
2.6 Socio-ecological systems: a parallel narrative ...............................................................38
2.7 Methods: situated SEFS ....................................................................................................41
2.7.1 Food security in SEFS ...........................................................................................44
2.7.2 Defining vulnerability and adaptation ................................................................45
2.7.3 Study region ..........................................................................................................48
2.7.4 Participant communities .....................................................................................50
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2.7.5 Data collection methods ......................................................................................51
2.7.6 Data Analysis and Limitations .............................................................................55
2.7.7 Contribution to SEFS ............................................................................................57
2.8 Synthesis ...........................................................................................................................57
Chapter 3 .......................................................................................................................................59
Literature Review: Cash Crops in Guatemala ........................................................................59
3.1 From conquest to export capitalism ...............................................................................59
3.2 Democratic reforms .........................................................................................................63
3.3 Government-led developmentalism ...............................................................................64
3.4 Neoliberal restructuring ..................................................................................................66
3.5 New agrarian extractivism? .............................................................................................68
3.6 The Guatemalan oil palm boom ......................................................................................72
3.7 ProRural/ProPalma – emergence of oil palm contract farmers ...................................74
3.8 Oil palm, development, and food security in Guatemala ..............................................78
Chapter 4 .......................................................................................................................................84
Land, Labour, and Development in the Oil Palm Host Community .....................................84
4.1 Introduction ......................................................................................................................84
4.2 Formation of Palm and Maize Villages ...........................................................................85
4.3 Agriculture in the Lachuá Ecoregion ..............................................................................86
4.4 Oil Palm Growers in Palm Village ...................................................................................88
4.5 Land distribution in Palm and Maize Villages................................................................89
4.6 Land history in Palm and Maize Villages ........................................................................91
4.7 Oil palm and outcomes for employment ........................................................................98
4.8 Recruitment and labour relations on oil palm operations ...........................................99
4.9 Oil palm and outcomes for household income ............................................................108
4.10 Oil palm and outcomes for wages .....................................................................109
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4.11 Oil palm contract farming and future prospects for development ................110
4.12 Discussion ...........................................................................................................114
Chapter 5 .....................................................................................................................................119
Oil Palm Expansion and Staple Food Access .......................................................................119
5.1 Introduction ....................................................................................................................119
5.2 Results .............................................................................................................................121
5.2.1 Food access, maize cultivation and harvest size ..............................................121
5.2.2 Land holding size ................................................................................................124
5.2.3 Land tenure .........................................................................................................125
5.2.4 Employment ........................................................................................................126
5.2.5 Ten-year changes in food access .......................................................................127
5.2.6 Oil palm expansion and staple crop displacement ..........................................130
5.2.7 Cost of maize production ...................................................................................131
5.3 Discussion .......................................................................................................................135
5.3.1 Oil palm and self-provisioning of maize ...........................................................135
5.3.2 Oil palm and market provisioning of food .......................................................138
5.3.3 Role of self-provisioning and market provisioning in food access ................140
Chapter 6 .....................................................................................................................................144
Oil Palm and Food System Vulnerability .............................................................................144
6.1 Introduction ....................................................................................................................144
6.2 Food system characteristics ..........................................................................................146
6.3 Food system vulnerabilities ..........................................................................................148
6.4 Oil palm and staple maize access ..................................................................................153
6.5 Oil palm access to firewood ...........................................................................................154
6.6 Oil palm and food consumption diversity ....................................................................155
6.7 Market provisioning and food consumption diversity ................................................158
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6.8 Oil palm and environmental threats .............................................................................163
6.9 Water resources .............................................................................................................165
6.10 Soil nutrient cycling ...........................................................................................168
6.11 Discussion ...........................................................................................................171
Chapter 7 .....................................................................................................................................175
Conclusion ..............................................................................................................................175
7.1 New agrarian extractivism and food system vulnerability .........................................177
7.2 Pathways forward ..........................................................................................................181
Bibliography ...............................................................................................................................187
Appendix A – Field Interviews ..................................................................................................222
Appendix B – Community Workshops ......................................................................................223
Appendix C – Store Owner Survey Guide .................................................................................224
Appendix D – OPG Interview Guide ..........................................................................................227
Appendix E – COCODE Interview Guide ...................................................................................228
Appendix F – GREPALMA Interview Guide ..............................................................................229
Appendix G – Household Survey Guide (English) ....................................................................230
Copyright Acknowledgements ..................................................................................................254
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List of Tables
Table 1: Oil palm producer categories* as referred to in this thesis. ...................................... 30
Table 2: Terms used in this thesis. ............................................................................................. 47
Table 3: Maize cultivation tasks per manzana of land (Source: interviews with three maize
farmers)........................................................................................................................................ 87
Table 4: Characteristics of oil palm growers in Palm Village (from 2015 survey). ............... 88
Table 5: Community and sample* land tenure characteristics. .................................................... 90
Table 6: Land sales in Palm Village out of 42 sampled households*. ......................................... 93
Table 7: Land sales in Maize Village out of 40 sampled households. .......................................... 93
Table 8: Oil palm employment in Palm Village*. ...................................................................... 103
Table 9: Average annual maize harvest and food access*. ......................................................... 123
Table 10: Change in food access over 10 years*/ ....................................................................... 127
Table 11: Correlation analysis of per unit maize production costa. ............................................ 133
Table 12: Households (HH's) engaging in regular or occasional self-provisioning of different
foods in Palm and Maize Villages. ............................................................................................. 147
Table 13: Food system characteristics, their associated stresses/shocks/threats, existing
adaptation strategies and limiting factors in Palm and Maize Villages (not an exhaustive
list). ............................................................................................................................................. 149
Table 14: Summary of observed effects of oil palm expansion on food system vulnerabilities
(increased exposure to shocks, increased magnitude of stress, and/or decreased capacity to
cope/adapt). .............................................................................................................................. 172
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List of Figures
Figure 1: Map of Guatemala (base map from d-maps.com) ..................................................... 14
Figure 2: Socio-ecological food system. Modified from Ericksen et al. 2010, originally in
GECAFS 2009. .............................................................................................................................. 45
Figure 3: Guatemalan crude palm oil production and exports 1993 – 2016. ........................ 74
Figure 4: Size of landholdings in Palm and Maize Villages owned by the surveyed
households. .................................................................................................................................. 90
Figure 5: Size of landholdings in Palm and Maize Villages rented by the surveyed
households ................................................................................................................................... 91
Figure 6: Land Use Change in Palm and Maize Villages 2006-2017........................................... 94
Figure 7: Main reasons cited for not considering oil palm employment to be viable in the
long term .................................................................................................................................... 104
Figure 8: Main reasons given for leaving previous oil palm employment. ........................... 105
Figure 9: International Prices of Crude Oil and Palm Oil (1990-2018) ................................ 112
Figure 10: Confidence in food access by community. ............................................................ 122
Figure 11: Confidence in food access by size of productive land holding (rented or owned)
in Palm Village and Maize Village. ............................................................................................ 124
Figure 12: Land tenure and food access .................................................................................. 125
Figure 13: Food access and employment type (permanent or temporary) of the main
employment-based income source in the household ............................................................ 126
Figure 14: Main reasons for increased difficulty in growing staple crops over the last 10
years. .......................................................................................................................................... 131
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Figure 15: Farmer from Palm Village comparing maize crop grown with (right) and without
(left) fertilizer. (November 2014) ............................................................................................ 137
Figure 16: Changes in diet between 2007-2015 (approx.) in Palm and Maize Villages. ..... 156
Figure 17: Reasons for reducing consumption or switching to purchasing different types of
food ............................................................................................................................................. 158
Figure 18: Guatemalan consumer price index country average and Alta and Baja Verapaz
provinces average (2011-2016) .............................................................................................. 161
Figure 19: Ten-year changes in the frequency of water shortages according to household
survey ......................................................................................................................................... 166
Figure 20: Coping strategies for water shortages in Palm Village. ....................................... 167
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List of Appendices
Appendix A – Field Interviews
Appendix B – Community Workshops
Appendix C – Store Owner Survey Guide
Appendix D – OPG (Oil Palm Grower) Interview Guide
Appendix E – COCODE Interview Guide
Appendix F – GREPALMA Interview Guide
Appendix G – Household Survey Guide
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Preface: Limitations, Disclaimers, and Acknowledgements
Over a decade ago, ago I was on a trip in Guatemala. At the time, I was in the middle of the
third year of my undergraduate program and I had just switched my major from Statistics
and Economics to Geography, much to the disappointment of my parents, who were upset
about both – my program change, and the fact that I went to a strange and dangerous
country. Nonetheless, after five semesters of my eyes glazing over supply and demand
curves, calculus proofs and probability distributions, my inner idealist took the reins and
sent me on a journey to discover how the world was outside of my elite backyard.
Growing up in a Western society, I have inevitably accrued many biases, which the reader
may see come out throughout this dissertation. In the end, I am only capable of perceiving
my own version of reality, and I apologize for my misunderstandings, which will never
cease to be aplenty. My understanding, and perhaps the root of my criticism towards the
western way of life that I am currently living, is also shaped by my childhood memories
that I still have a hard time putting into context. My family immigrated to Canada when I
was a grade schooler, in the mid ‘90s, from the ruins of the Soviet Union. I remember living
in a terribly dirty city, where there was no such thing as a pothole-free road or an intact
payphone. The playgrounds were broken, the stores frequently ran out of food, and
nobody ever had money. It was a scary time for people who already had very little, to live
on a rollercoaster of hyperinflation, mass privatization and corruption, listening to
reporters on one of the two available (state-owned) TV channels in the city tell the country
to brace itself for a meagre future. Once there was a radio interview of a government
official who told people something along the lines of ‘we have to prepare to sacrifice a
generation’. This would have been my generation, which I am very grateful that my parents
were not willing to sacrifice.
My childhood stories sometimes invoke a feeling of sympathy, or even sadness, in my
compassionate Canadian listeners. ‘It must have been so hard being so poor’, they say. In
truth, I do not remember myself ever being poor. The Soviet Union was not a poor country,
it was a world power. Even as it crumbled, the people were called to remember the wealth
of discoveries and accomplishments that came from the mighty Soviet science and
2
engineering, the unmatched depth of philosophical thought from the great Soviet theorists
and writers, the world-renowned arts, the profound history, the coveted knowledge about
life that, according to the Soviet leaders, no one else had. Whatever was happening in the
‘90s did not change that Grandpa Lenin1 gave us so many things - so many wonderful
opportunities. I understood that we were not living in luxury because luxury was not for
us. We were not supposed to be rich show-offs living frivolously, but to be smart, decent,
and good citizens. This is what I was taught to aspire to – the top grades, the piano recitals,
the math competitions. It is a strange world, where a grade schooler looks the other way
from malnutrition, bad water, and dangerous streets. I had the capabilities and the real
opportunity to attain the accomplishments that were of top value in my society2, so there is
no way that I could have been poor.
To a child, strange and inexplicable things can very quickly become the norm. Experience
suggests that it is not so different for an adult. For instance, in the still-intact Soviet Union,
it was normal for a family of four to be assigned a two-bedroom apartment that already had
a family of three living in it3. This would be a rather shocking prospect in the modern
Western society. For me, in the ‘90s, it quickly became normal that the price for a loaf of
bread should rise from a few rubles to a few hundred rubles, within months. After the
union collapsed, the countries of the former Soviet bloc were forced on a ‘shock therapy’
course towards yet another norm, one that was well established in the west. Shock
therapy, endorsed by the IMF (International Monetary Fund) and by Western governments,
consisted of a series of radical top-down reforms aimed at causing fundamental and
irreversible social, economic, and political change of the society (Murrell 1993). This rapid
and fundamental change entailed an absolute rejection of existing socio-political structures,
1 Children were encouraged to affectionately refer to the late Lenin as ‘grandpa’.
2 Echoing the Capability Approach to human development, stemming from the work of Amartya Sen (1999).
3 One could not purchase a home since real-estate was not privately owned. Dwellings were therefore
assigned by authorities according to the tenants’ work location and other factors. Shared apartments were not uncommon.
3
coupled with a complete reconstruction (in Russian: ‘perestroika’4) of the economy with all
of its consequences, including hyperinflation in 1991-1992 (Murrell 1993). Thus, Russia
underwent a period of massive and swift privatization, decentralization, and other neo-
liberal reforms – a rough transition that, combined with a rise in corruption and crime,
yielded chaos, devastation, and dispossession of many. As my father once said, ‘the one
good thing that Yeltsin did for us, is that he allowed us to leave5’. After surviving more than a
decade of social, economic, and political collapse, it is not surprising perhaps that many
Russians raised during the Soviet time, continue to remember it fondly, even questioning
why the union needed to be broken, despite its numerous problems.
I may have lived through the tail end of the Soviet dissolution, but I am by no means a
Russian scholar. My memories cannot explain or make adequate judgments on what had
actually happened or why. What I am suggesting here is simply that the lens through which
I write this dissertation is shaped by my experience, which is both heavily sceptical of and
profoundly attached to the Western way of life, ideas, and approaches to development.
Perhaps I have an ingrained distaste for outsider-led market-based development
interventions because they remind me too much of shock therapy. Of course, I am also a
hypocrite for believing that Russia is better off now than during the time when I played in
the mud.
I am also suggesting that sometimes it is tempting for an outsider academic to judge and
prescribe solutions to problems for a society with which he/she is out of touch.
Incidentally, this very thing happened in ‘90s Russia, where a group of scholars – both
national and foreign – came up with the shock therapy strategy without any meaningful
public engagement, which led to many unprecedented consequences for the Russian people
(Murrell 1993). Thus, through the course of this project, I have made an effort to engage
with the people in the setting of my study, to promote a two-sided dialogue and co-creation
4 The ‘perestroika’ reforms introduced by Mikhail Gorbachev in the 1980s are thought by many to have
precipitated the dissolution of the Soviet Union.
5 Speaking of Boris Yeltsin, the president of the Russian Federation from 1991 to 1999, opening up borders
for emigration.
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of knowledge. I acknowledge, however, that though my efforts were sincere, they were
also limited by a number of factors - from language barriers to lack of time and resources.
My hope is that these efforts were at least enough to maintain the integrity of the project
and to benefit the participants in some way.
The last point that I want to make through my personal accounts, is that in traveling from
place to place and living in one country and another, I have realized how challenging it is to
see, and even more – to understand change, even if you are right within its epicentre. The
Soviet Union was rightfully infamous for its extensive censorship in the media, in
education, at work, and in nearly all other aspects of social life. The average Soviet citizen
had little to no access to foreign information, and as a result had very limited insight of
what was happening in the world outside of the Soviet Union, or the ability to discern what
was happening right in front of them.
In the case of present-day rural Guatemala, access to quality information is a real problem.
Although censorship is not a suitable term to use here, my fieldwork has led me to conclude
that the information that is made available to an average Guatemalan campesino (or
‘peasant farmer’) is minimal and extremely biased and/or conflicting depending on the
source, while reliable information tends to be systematically withheld. For instance, an oil
palm business will offer a starkly different description of the environmental impacts of oil
palm, than a guard from the national park. At the same time, any documents from an
official environmental impact assessment, if such exist, are nearly impossible to obtain for a
well-connected academic, much less a villager without an internet connection (who may
also not be able to read, or speak Spanish). And thus, in the rapidly (and I would say,
radically) changing landscape of Lachuá, I managed to find many villagers who had very
little or no idea about what oil palm even was, much less the speed and the degree to which
it had been spreading around the country over the recent years. Some villagers had no idea
that there were oil palm plantations just a couple of miles down the road; some knew, but
had no concern about this. Even in the village that is hosting the plantations described in
this study, many survey participants expressed a neutral or mildly positive opinion about
the presence of the plantations, even after they had complained about the ecological
deterioration and other negative consequences that they themselves had attributed to oil
5
palm establishment. The common thread was that nobody could really be sure of what the
oil palm was doing to their region, or what future prospects it would bring or take away. I
therefore hope that my work could bring an outsider perspective that, despite its flaws,
might still be useful in providing context-specific knowledge that is not always accessible.
Sadly, there is a lot missing from the story compiled in this dissertation. One prominent
theme in the literature concerning cash crops, including oil palm, in Guatemala is the
prevalence of violent conflicts stemming from land grabbing (Alonso-Fradejas 2012). I do
not examine the dynamics of conflict in this dissertation, but it should be acknowledged
that much like the rest of the country, the Lachuá Ecoregion had seen its share of protests
and land conflicts. However, one observation from my fieldwork was the tacit support for
oil palm from the majority of the host community members (or, at least, a lack of a loud
opposition force). One possible explanation is that in this case study, the oil palm growers
are contract farmers, most of whom continue to reside in the community. In the
documented cases of mass protests and evictions, the culprits were large corporations that
took over vast swaths of land, effectively destroying communities within a short period of
time (Alonso-Fradejas 2012). Therefore the dynamics of land control grabbing are
different in this case study, and the changes associated with oil palm encroachment are
more gradual and sometimes difficult to spot. Even now, many villagers are not aware that
some of their neighbours’ plots have already been surrounded by oil palm and will soon
likely be sold and diverted to oil palm cultivation.
It can be also be tempting to explain the lack of vocal opposition to oil palm by suggesting
that perhaps the benefits of oil palm (through employment opportunities, for example)
indeed outweigh the purported costs. In the eyes of many villagers, the palm cultivation
has added to the scarce pool of jobs available in the Ecoregion, while others hold out hope
that more jobs will become available with more expansion. Incidentally, job creation, along
with lucrative profit opportunities for smallholder oil palm farmers were among the basic
premises of the ProRural government program that promoted the crop in 2007-2008
(Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). Emphases on much needed rural
jobs along with the (so far, largely unfulfilled) promises of other benefits of oil palm-based
development still pervade the discourses presented by local oil palm growers and
6
proponents. At the same time, for many community members, not much has palpably
changed since the arrival of palm around 10 years ago, as most (about 80%) still grow
maize for household consumption on their own or rented land, and deal with the everyday
struggle to provide for their families. In this poverty-laden region, few can afford to shift
their attention away from the day-to-day, and to devote the time and resources to
understand and to challenge the emerging big picture. Many villagers continue to operate
as if they will continue to be able to farm staple crops in the foreseeable future, and are
only now beginning to recognize that there is less and less land available in the community,
and fewer and fewer non-oil palm jobs. Needless to say, the implications of the global
commodity price fluctuations, geopolitics, financial and food crises, and the growing biofuel
economy seldom enter the dinner table conversations in Lachuá in the context of how oil
palm could throw a tiny community into a macroeconomic whirlwind. When trying to
survive day-to-day, it is not always easy to see the high-level processes of dispossession
taking place.
In truth, the discussion on boom crop conflicts and geopolitics merits its own dissertation.
However, the preoccupation with global-scale changes and policy decisions affecting
unsuspecting poor communities in the global South is one of the main concerns that
motivated me to do this study and to take on a broad multi-faceted and multi-scalar
framework like the socio-ecological food system (Ericksen 2008b). The intent of this
approach is, among other things, to demonstrate the fragility and resilience of the socio-
economic situation of the participant communities, and the ways in which the spread of a
global commodity like oil palm is making them even more vulnerable, as it in many ways
compromises the long-term sustainability of local food and water provisioning. The
consequences of this, as the study will demonstrate, are already becoming apparent
especially for the households that are excluded from oil palm employment and thus do not
draw any benefits from it.
I want to acknowledge another issue that I did not address in my fieldwork or in my
subsequent research to a full extent, but I believe it to be a crucial element in the ongoing
material dispossession of the rural Maya (especially with regard to land), and a potentially
important factor for improving food security, health, and livelihood stability. To illustrate, I
7
want to turn back to the very beginning of this preface, and I hope the reader will excuse
another personal anecdote.
Some years ago I was on a trip in Guatemala. Among other activities, I took part in a
traditional Mayan ceremony, to which at the time I did not attribute much significance
other than it being a ‘neat experience’. A Catholic friend’s family invited a Mayan priest to
perform the service in their backyard in Guatemala City, which involved a ritual fire with
incense, flowers, cigars, and other sacred elements. I do not remember much from the
ceremony other than there being a lot of smoke, and at one point the priest looking directly
at me and telling me that I should come back to Guatemala, to which I assuredly answered
‘yes, I will come back’. I believe that somehow with that statement, through some mystical
forces I bound myself to returning, but that is a separate story.
What I feel is relevant to this dissertation from the experience is what I learned later – that
is, how uncommon these ceremonies are in Guatemala. At the time, I was oblivious to the
oddity of the event: that this Mayan ceremony was, of all places, held in the capital city and
for an open-minded Catholic family and a foreigner. All the while, in the Mayan villages
where I did my fieldwork years later, not once had I witnessed or heard of such a ceremony
taking place, nor heard of any Mayan priests. Scarcely, I heard references to Tsul-tak’a
(Mother Earth) in conversation, and some other broad understandings (like the sacredness
of maize, for instance), but it seemed to me that the details have been lost. I realized that
during the lengthy period of civil conflict in Guatemala, complete with systematic killings of
knowledge-bearing Mayan elders, the people have been dispossessed of their cultural
heritage which kept them alive and thriving for hundreds of years before colonization
(Ybarra 2010).
This devastating reality became all the more clear during one of the community workshops
that I, along with my colleagues from San Carlos University, had run. After I presented my
project plan to a group of community leaders and asked for feedback about my plan and
about oil palm in general, a very elderly toothless man stood up and delivered a long
speech in a calm but directed manner. The speech was in Q’eqchi, so I managed to gather
only a portion of it through a translator. Among other things, the old man talked about how
a long time ago, the villagers would perform a ceremony lasting several weeks just to cut
8
down a single tree. The tree – a living being and gift from Mother Earth – had to be given
the proper respect. It was inconceivable to thoughtlessly chop the tree down, much less an
entire forest. The old man also spoke about sacred caves that exist in the region and called
for an effort to revive some of the old spiritual traditions and practices, particularly to
teach the younger generations. Though the old man seemingly said almost nothing about
oil palm, his overall message, as I understood it, was that it was necessary to strengthen the
people so as to avoid further dispossession (whether it be through oil palm encroachment
or anything else).
Evidently, as I found out later through my interactions with locals, NGOs, and other
researchers, very few villagers still possess substantial knowledge about medicinal plants,
or even traditional foods and cooking methods. Some NGOs (e.g. Ixcape Cobán) have
recently begun to address these issues by providing workshops on traditional Mayan
cooking in hopes of improving nutrition and food security in Mayan populations. Other
organizations (e.g. El Pilar Forest Garden Network) have launched efforts to recover the
ancient knowledge of forest garden cultivation. Mayan forest gardens have been
traditionally used to produce a multitude of nutritious foods, and were an integral part of a
sustainable and resilient food system. Indeed, there is archaeological evidence supporting
the idea that Mayan forest gardens existed in the Lachuá Ecoregion hundreds of years ago
(Avendaño 2012).
The analysis that I provide in this work acknowledges the role of traditional knowledge in
socio-ecological food system resilience. However, I personally feel that its role is
understated in the framework that I use here. For what it is worth, I stand with the
toothless elder on his point about fostering inner strength and spiritual identity as an
integral basis of resistance, inclusively in maintaining a sustainable food system that
provides enough for everyone.
To that note, I also do not wish to completely denounce cash crops or to ignore their
inevitable role in feeding seven billion people on our planet. I see this as a moment to
reflect on the methods used to introduce and support cash crop production in this study
region, the details missed, and the power relations involved in producing the outcomes
discussed herein. I hope that this study brings the world at least tiny step closer to equity
9
and justice in the global food system, so as to make participation in cash crop production a
true opportunity for the rural poor upon whom the system rests.
I wish to acknowledge the multitude of people and organizations without whom this
project and this dissertation would not have been possible. The funding for this project
was provided by the International Development Research Council (IDRC) – Latin America
and the Carribbean Research Exchange Grant (LACREG), as well as the University of
Toronto Department of Geography, and the School of Environment through the generous
support of the Arthur and Sonia Labatt Fellowship and the Eric Krause Fellowship.
Profound thanks are owed to the people of Lachuá who graciously opened up their homes
and shared their stories. My deep gratitude goes to the leaders of the two villages in this
study, who not only welcomed me and my associates, but also generously offered countless
hours to facilitate workshops, surveys, and interviews in their communities6. A special
thanks is owed to the oil palm growers who participated in this study, for their openness,
integrity and good will. Much is owed to Oscar Rojas and Tania Montenegro – the keenest
research assistants that one could ask for, who have been outstanding colleagues and
friends in the field. The local Q’eqchi’ translators who worked with us were indispensable
in helping us to bridge the difficult communication and cultural barrier with the villagers.
Thank you also to Julio Morales for his insight and support. It has been a true privilege to
get to know and work with all of the colleagues and participants of this project.
I am not sure how to properly acknowledge Carlos Avendaño, to whom I feel I owe a lot of
this work. Carlos was a friend and a mentor throughout the course of this project, and his
love and passion for Guatemala and its people were the source of much of my inspiration
for this undertaking. In short – thank you for changing my life. Also, a warm thank you to
the Avendaño family for their incredible kindness and support during my fieldwork.
6 At the cost of not giving proper acknowledgement, names and affiliations of research participants and
communities are omitted in this dissertation so as to preserve confidentiality and ensure safety of the participants.
10
Immeasurable thanks to my family, especially my husband Mauricio, whom I credit with
my physical, mental, and emotional survival during my work on this project. His love,
patience, and wisdom have been my happiness in the good times and my light in the dark
times. Thank you for being with me. Thank you to my son, Michael, for being such a good
sport while mommy was away, and for always being a ray of sunshine. Thank you to my
parents, who are the reasons why I got the many opportunities that I have had in my life,
including this project. Thank you to the rest of my family, and my good friends, for always
being there for me.
Thank you to all of my mentors at the University of Toronto, especially Ryan Isakson who is
incredibly insightful and has taught me a great deal about research, and about life. His
guidance has kept me on the good path. Thank you to Danny Harvey for being so
supportive of my work all these years, and to Christian Abizaid and Scott Prudham for their
indispensable advice. Thank you to my peers in the Geography department and the School
of Environment, to all of the professors and administrators who have made my time in the
University of Toronto unforgettable in all the best ways.
A special dedication to my friend Marius Gangan, whom I dearly miss. May you rest in
peace, surrounded by love and light.
11
Chapter 1
1. Introduction
1.1 Introduction
In recent decades, the thriving global demand for agricultural commodities, coupled with
market speculation, has spurred rapid expansions in oil palm cultivation all over the world
(Clapp and Isakson 2018; Borras et al. 2015). Being one of the most versatile and cheapest
oil seed crops to produce, oil palm gained momentum as cultivation spread into new
regions, including Guatemala. Until the mid-2000s, Guatemala remained a negligible palm
oil producer on the world stage with a total annual production volume of about 100 000
MT7. The situation took a drastic turn in the late 2000s. Guatemalan palm oil production
began to climb exponentially, reaching 740 000 MT in 2016 - constituting a six-fold
increase in a mere decade. By 2017, Guatemala was a top producer of the crop in Latin
America – second only to Colombia, which has more than 10 times that amount of land
(USDA 2018).
The push for oil palm in Guatemala was largely driven by a handful of private interests
seeking to take advantage of soaring global prices for palm oil and its derivatives and
explore new opportunities in the biofuel sector. Ever a servant to domestic and foreign
elites, the Guatemalan government quickly followed suit, and began to actively promote oil
palm to smallholder farmers in the northern lowlands of the country through the 2007-08
ProRural program (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Alonso-Fradejas 2012). At the time,
ProRural was one of many examples of smallholder-focused cash crop promotion
initiatives, which came into fashion in international development in the 2000s (UNCTAD
2015; HLPE 2013; Miller and Jones 2010). In Guatemala, oil palm was touted as a rural
development opportunity, capable of bringing urgently needed jobs to remote and poverty-
plagued corners of the country (ProRural 2010, 2009; Banco Mundial 2009). Rooted in the
7 The major global producers of palm oil – Indonesia and Malaysia – each produced around 15 million MT in
the same years (USDA 2018).
12
rationale of generating employment and raising local incomes, the National Food Security
Strategy (PESAN 2009) included oil palm as a key component, along with other cash crops
and staple maize.
Guatemalan oil palm expansion inevitably came at the expense of other land uses. In the
northern lowlands, where much of the oil palm expansion took place, the crop spread over
grasslands, grazing lands, wetlands, as well as sizeable stretches of rainforest and lands
previously used for growing traditional food crops such as maize and beans (Alonso-
Fradejas et al. 2011). Activists soon began to sound the alarm as word got out about
violent evictions of (primarily indigenous) peasants by wealthy farmers, corporations, and
land brokers (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). Some scholars have
pegged the government as complicit in the land grabs through its tacit support of large
agribusinesses, minimal oversight of the rapid crop expansion, and facilitation of risky
contract-farming schemes of the ProRural program (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011).
Nevertheless, the focus of the government’s official narrative remained on the socio-
economic benefits of cash crops, development of otherwise ‘idle’ land, and interestingly –
on the need to curb peasant land sales, which was among the purported goals of ProRural.
The sudden slump in palm oil price in 2008 followed by the withdrawal of U.S. investment
from the Guatemalan oil palm sector temporarily quelled the spread of oil palm in the
country (Guereña and Zepeda 2013). ProRural was also dismantled during government
restructuring after just one year of operation. Several programs under ProRural were
transferred to the Ministry of Agriculture (MAGA), while ProPalma (the subsidiary
responsible for promoting oil palm) was effectively discontinued, with its funding
transferred over to a farmers’ association in the northern lowlands. The subsequent
corruption and questionable management of ProPalma funds left many of its smallholder
participants in financial trouble (Solis et al. 2013). Despite the setbacks in the latter 2000s,
oil palm production continued to rise, led by large oil palm corporations such as Palmas del
Ixcán, Naturaceites, and Reforestadora de Palmas del Petén (REPSA), along with contract
farmers who persisted after the restructuring of ProRural.
As poverty and food insecurity continued to beleaguer the regions of the country hosting
oil palm plantations, questions were raised about the actual benefits of introducing the
13
crop as a rural development strategy. In particular, concerns surfaced over the livelihood
losses of dispossessed indigenous farmers (Alonso-Fradejas 2012), the instability and
precariousness of oil palm employment (Hurtado and Sanchez 2012), losses of other
agricultural jobs (Dürr 2016), and overall limited benefits for local incomes (Mingorría et
al. 2014). To make matters more serious, in the summer of 2015 an alleged spill from a
palm oil refinery in the northern province of Petén resulted in severe pollution of over one
hundred kilometres of La Pasión river, resulting in widespread death of fish, tainted
drinking water, and compromised livelihoods for dozens of communities along the river.
The incident was widely termed an ‘ecocide’, sparking waves of local protests and igniting
new debates about the ecological harm of unchecked palm oil production as it directly
affects local access to safe food and water (Sánchez and Obando 2016).
To date the actual development outcomes of oil palm expansion in Guatemala have not
been extensively studied. Previous oil palm-related research in Guatemala had focused on
the socio-economic outcomes (Dürr 2016; Mingorría et al. 2014; Hurtado and Sanchez
2012) and land grabbing (Alonso-Fradejas 2012) in areas dominated by large oil palm
agribusinesses, with a very limited look at contract farmers (Alonso-Fradejas 2011).
Furthermore, despite the growing public concern over the environmental impacts of
ongoing and poorly-monitored oil palm expansion, academic work on the subject remains
sparse, particularly in relation to food insecurity.
1.2 The Study
The study in this thesis looks at oil palm contract farmers and the socio-ecological impacts
of oil palm in the host communities, particularly on the local food system. The research
was conducted in two indigenous villages in the Lachuá Ecoregion (Figure 1) in the
northern lowlands of the Alta Verapaz province, where one of the villages – henceforth
referred to as Palm Village – has been the setting of rapid oil palm expansion since 2006.
The second village – henceforth known as Maize Village – is a neighbouring community
with, so far, minimal oil palm presence, where the cultivation of staple maize and remnants
of secondary forest constitute the main land use types.
14
Figure 1: Map of Guatemala (base map from d-maps.com)
The central research question of this work is how has the expansion of oil palm – an
ostensibly lucrative global commodity crop and the centrepiece of former rural development
and food security programs – altered the socio-ecological food system in the hosting
15
community, and with it the dynamics of food provisioning, access, diet, and development
prospects of the community. To address this question, this research was driven by three
overlapping research objectives. The first goal was to investigate how oil palm has
reshaped the dynamics of land sales and labour in the host community – including access to
employment, changes in wages, and implications for household income. The second
objective was to determine the role of oil palm in altering household access to staple foods.
The third objective was to understand the ways in which the introduction and expansion of
oil palm has transformed the regional food system, particularly its impacts on food access
and consumption and the social, economic, and environmental aspects of food production.
Specifically, the study aimed to examine if and how the introduction of oil palm has
reconfigured vulnerability in the system and the associated dimensions of food insecurity.
The analysis is carried out through the socio-ecological food system framework (Ericksen
2008b), which incorporates social, economic, and environmental aspects of the food
production, distribution, and consumption across scales. This framework situates food-
related activities within human and biogeophysical processes that lead to outcomes for
food security, social and environmental welfare (Allen and Prosperi 2016; Ericksen 2008b).
Food security within this framework is the outcome of a sustainable and resilient socio-
ecological food system, and is comprised of three main pillars: food utilization, access, and
availability, which are (re)produced through a set of food system activities pertaining to
the production, processing, distribution, and consumption of food (Allen and Prosperi
2016; Ingram 2011; Ericksen 2008b). As further discussed in Chapter 2, this framework
captures ecological processes and reflexive relationships between different food system
elements that can be obscured in the absence of a system-type view. It was therefore
chosen for its strengths in cross-scalar interdisciplinary analysis. The analysis carries
insight into how landscape change leads to different food security outcomes for social sub-
groups and creates/intensifies vulnerabilities in the local food system as a whole.
The main conclusions of this study dispute the mainstream narrative that the promotion
of smallholder oil palm cultivation results in significant positive outcomes for development
and food security in the host communities (USAID 2014; Deininger et al. 2011; World Bank
2011, 2007; FAO 2011). Instead, it is shown here that oil palm expansion has done little to
16
boost the local food system by ways of spurring economic development, while at the same
time, it exacerbated many existing food system vulnerabilities and introduced new ones. It
has done so by:
Accelerating land sales and putting pressure on local land resources;
Creating limited, non-inclusive and precarious job opportunities while
eliminating other types of agricultural employment;
Escalating pressure on subsistence farming by driving up farming costs,
thereby compromising long-standing food access ‘safety nets’; and
Compromising local sources of nutritious perishable foods, leading to a
decrease in access to and consumption of these foods.
Furthermore, oil palm expansion has come with many ecological costs including the
depletion of soil, water, and forest resources. Interview results also hint at additional
social costs (requiring further investigation) including road damage, upsurge in pests and
pest-related diseases, and heightened inter and intra-community conflicts. All of these
effects have contributed to rising inequality in staple food access, decreasing variety and
nutrition of consumed foods, and increased sensitivity of the host community to volatility
in global commodity markets. At the same time, the observed benefits from oil palm
employment and increased wages have been limited, short-lived, and only accessible to a
portion of households in the host community.
1.3 Thesis Outline
This thesis is broken down in the following way.
Chapter 2 introduces the key concepts and analytical paradigms that frame the analysis. It
describes the evolution of ‘food security’ as a concept and situates the role of oil palm
contract farmers in the broader development and food security discourse. The socio-
ecological food system (SEFS) framework is discussed as a basis for analyzing food system
vulnerability in the Lachuá case study. The data collection and analysis methods of the
project are explained within the parameters of the situated SEFS framework. A closer look
at the history, as well as the social, economic, and environmental characteristics of the two
17
study villages is provided. The ethical considerations and limitations in data collection,
analysis, and interpretation are explained.
Chapter 3 situates the current oil palm boom in Guatemala within the broader history of
cash crops in the country. Reviewing cash crop development from the Spanish conquest in
the 1500s, through neoliberal restructuring in the 1980s, to recent booms of global
commodity crops (i.e. oil palm and sugarcane), the chapter suggests that the contemporary
oil palm boom is part of an emerging ‘new extractivist’ regime. The chapter concludes with
a review of scholarship on oil palm’s impacts on rural development and food security in
Guatemala.
Chapter 4 hones in on the issues surrounding land and labour in the two communities.
The primary questions considered in this chapter are: What effects did the introduction
and expansion of oil palm have on land control, employment opportunities, and incomes
for household in the host community? Which households had benefitted from these
changes and how? The entitlements approach (Drèze and Sen 1989; Sen 1981) is used
here to understand how oil palm shapes rural livelihoods, endowments, and food
entitlements. Principal findings include that oil palm has produced limited and short-lived
benefits for a portion of the host community, while extinguishing other types of agricultural
employment, accelerating land sales, and putting pressure on subsistence farming. In other
words, oil palm has helped improved food entitlements for some at the expense of others,
while endowments have been compromised for most members of the community.
Chapter 5 goes further to examine how the socio-economic and ecological changes in the
communities have impacted staple food access. The key research questions of this chapter
are: how has the increasing presence of oil palm altered staple food
production/provisioning in the host community? How has this translated into staple food
access for different households? The main conclusion is that oil palm expansion has
undermined the production of staple maize, exacerbated inequality in food access, and
eroded ‘safety nets’ for food access in a region fraught with precarious employment. At the
same time, income benefits derived from oil palm employment have been insufficient to
boost food access for most households.
18
Chapter 6 contextualizes the results in the socio-ecological systems framework. In
addition to staple foods, the chapter looks at how the variety, quality, and prices of
different types of food have changed alongside oil palm expansion on a household and
community scale. The chapter also considers the environmental implications of oil palm
expansion on the local food system, especially with regard to deforestation and possible
effects on water availability and quality. Finally, it discusses how the resultant social,
economic, and environmental changes translate into food system vulnerability. The key
findings include that oil palm has contributed to the disappearance of certain nutritious
food in the study communities, compromised ecological resources, and heightened the host
community’s exposure to external shocks such as global oil palm price fluctuations.
Furthermore, food insecurity is exacerbated by the scalar differences between (beyond-
community) food system shocks and stresses and (within-household) adaptation
strategies.
The concluding Chapter 7 illustrates how food system vulnerability is exacerbated in the
emerging new agrarian extractivist regime in Guatemala. Overall, this case study
problematizes the vision of market-based poverty-alleviation strategies that are centered
on cash-crop promotion to smallholders, and suggests that cash crops such as oil palm can
only bring real benefits to agricultural regions as part of an otherwise diverse, equitable
and sustainable food system. The key message that emerges here is that inequalities and
vulnerabilities in food systems have to be taken seriously when devising development
approaches. In the context of the Lachuá Ecoregion, which suffers from a number of
serious food system vulnerabilities, oil palm promotion on its own is not an adequate – and
is in many ways a detrimental – rural development intervention. Efforts to address the
core causes of vulnerability and strengthen and diversify the food system – including
supporting staple crop farmers, fostering education and diversification of livelihood
activities, and protecting ecological resources – must be kept at the core of rural
development and food security strategies.
19
Chapter 2
Frameworks and Methods
2.1 Origins and transformations of ‘food security’
Guatemala’s ProRural was but one example of state programs promoting cash crops to
smallholders around the world with the purpose of stimulating rural economies and
enhancing food security (FAO 2011; Rist et al. 2010). In the 2000s, the integration of
smallholder agriculture into global production chains – inclusively for oil palm – became
the centerfold of international development and food security forums (c.f. USAID 2014;
Deininger et al. 2011; World Bank 2007, 2011). Despite the highly variable outcomes from
cash crop adoption by smallholders around the world (Nkongho et al. 2014; Ofosu-Budu
and Sarpong 2013; McCarthy 2010), the pervading food security discourse continues to
serve as the theoretical backbone for programs advocating for cash crops.
To conceptualize the role of cash crop production in the mainstream food security and
development discourse, it is useful to begin with the evolution of food security as a concept.
Emerging out of the 1972-75 world food crisis, the food security discourse is seen by some
scholars as a response to the failing postwar food regime and development project
(Fairbairn 2010; Friedmann 2005). The regime, which advocated for the injection of
capital and agricultural technology together with (primarily US- originated) food aid as a
means of accomplishing global ‘freedom from hunger’, culminated with a doubling-to-
tripling of grain prices that caused widespread famines responsible for killing millions
around the world (Gerlach 2015; Fairbairn 2010). The causes of the price spike were
complex, encompassing a variety of factors including the effects of El Niño-induced
droughts and poor harvests, the emergence of an energy crisis in 1973, rising global
demand for food, as well as politically mandated food export restrictions in the US, Canada,
and Australia (Gerlach 2015). The masses of poor consumers who were unable to cope
with augmented prices were left in the dust.
20
The terrible consequences of the events in the early 1970s pushed global authorities to re-
think their approach to food and hunger. The United Nations World Food Conference of
1974 invoked the new frame of food security in calling for:
‘…the establishment of a world food security system which would ensure adequate
availability of, and reasonable prices for, food at all times, irrespective of periodic fluctuations
and vagaries of weather and free of political and economic pressures’ (UN 1974).
This framing effectively put onus on nation states to ensure the availability of food, also
implying that cooperation at the international level to maintain food stocks and level prices
was imperative. State action, including government intervention in markets (e.g. in an
effort to fix ‘reasonable prices’ for food), was central to the early food security frame as
governments were tasked with reinforcing national-level food supplies (Fairbairn 2010).
While food aid continued to figure into the food security model, priorities began to move
towards national agricultural development so as to increase production and solidify control
over national food supplies.
In the 1980s, the food security discourse – influenced significantly by the work of Amartya
Sen (1981) – saw a shift away from the macro-scale, partly in recognition of existing
within-nation inequalities that left certain sub-populations in hunger despite ample supply
at the national level. Sen attributed hunger to failures in food entitlements, where
entitlement of a person is defined as ‘the set of alternative commodity bundles that can be
acquired through the use of the various legal channels of acquirement open to that person’
(Drèze and Sen 1989). Simply put, food entitlement implies the ability to access food
through various means that can include self-provisioning or participation in income
generating activities such as wage labour and commercial agriculture (FAO 2003).
Entitlements are not only economic (e.g. having the means to purchase food), but also
political (e.g. politics can enable or suppress food access). If a set of individuals were to
lose their entitlements, they would suffer from deprivation regardless of the amount of
food available in the country (Sen 1981).
Much of Sen’s work endeavoured to advance the entitlements approach, inclusively, to
understand how and why entitlements change. He posited that entitlement depends on
21
initial endowment (assemblage of resources legally owned by a person) and the exchange
entitlement mapping or e-mapping, which defines how endowments are translated into
entitlements (Drèze and Sen 1989; Sen 1981). Therefore, an entitlement failure could
occur in the event of endowment loss, or as a result of failure in exchange or transfer
(Rubin 2007). Among other events, falling wages, falling cash crop prices, and rising food
prices can provoke changes in endowments and/or exchange relations, which can
adversely impact individuals within the context of their legal, political, social, and economic
position in society (Sen 1981). At the same time, however, entitlements cannot only be
seen as individualistic. Rather, they are socially constituted, and command over food
entitlements is continually negotiated and fought over, including during times of crisis
(Watts 1991).
Sen’s entitlement approach garnered much praise as well as criticism. From a theoretical
perspective, Sen’s contributions had fundamentally reoriented the food security discourse
towards the examination of access rather than availability as a central tenet of food
security. Secondly, Sen’s influence instituted a scalar shift in food security analysis towards
the individual8 rather than the state (Fairbairn 2010), although Sen recognized the state as
having a role in creating and guaranteeing entitlements. Thus, in steering away from the
Malthusian conceptualization of famines as a rather simplistic geographic problem of food
production and consumption, Sen’s work urged deeper consideration of poverty and
disenfranchisement. Individual purchasing power was recognized as one of the key factors
in determining who had economic access to food (Rubin 2007). Also important was the
individual’s access to productive resources, that Sen termed endowments, which poor
populations often lack (Sen 1981).
In practice, Sen’s framework offered several pathways for intervention to alleviate hunger.
Improved productive technologies, social security programmes or other types of relief
provided by the state were among the suggested ways to guarantee minimal entitlements,
8 It is worth noting that much of the recent work on food security had been conducted using the household as
the principal analytical unit. The household was also the central unit in Sen’s (1981) work, although he recognized its insufficiency in capturing the differential food allocation between household members.
22
particularly in dire circumstances (Sen 1981). Furthermore, the entitlement approach
called for the state to mediate certain aspects of exchange conditions – notably the legal
relations of ownership, contracts, and labour (Sen 1981). However, most analyses and
practices ignored Sen’s more progressive proposals, and instead focused exclusively upon
his concerns with exchange conditions. Many interpretations of Sen’s work, rather
paradoxically, deflected obligation away from state governments, particularly in turning
the analysis towards individual purchasing power. In the mainstream development
discourse, food security had become about individuals operating in a free market, and their
food entitlements were therefore more a product of their individual choices than their
systemic context (Fairbairn 2010; FAO 1997). Consequently, policy emphasis shifted
towards economic development of poor regions and public investment in food production
where food was categorically treated as a commodity (FAO 1997; World Bank 1993).
In departure from Sen’s framework, which continued to advocate for state action albeit
without an explicit challenge to the dominant neoliberal ideology and its innate power
structures, the World Bank (1986; 1996) led the food security discourse towards market
orientation and liberalization of trade. The move was entrenched in the broader trends
within mainstream economics at the time. A number of policy makers and scholars alike
were advocating for export-led agricultural development as a means of generating
employment and achieving growth (Timmer 1992; Lundahl 1991; Adelman 1984; Singer
1979). Following suit, the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) also confined the role
of governments to keeping political stability, providing infrastructure, and maintaining
effective legal frameworks and favourable trade policies to allow for smooth functioning of
markets and encourage foreign investment (Fairbairn 2010; FAO 1997). The duty to
provide safety nets for the poorest populations, though still recognized as a role of national
governments, conspicuously took a back seat to the liberalization of agricultural trade,
which was deemed necessary to generate profit and raise purchasing power in order to
ensure food security (Fairbairn 2010; FAO 1997).
The currently prevalent definition of food security is the one that had been established
during the 1996 World Food Summit:
23
‘Food security exists when all people, at all times, have physical and economic access to
sufficient safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an
active and healthy life.’ (FAO 2008, 2003)
This definition encompasses four main dimensions of food security: physical availability of
food, economic and physical access to food, utilization of food (including cultural
appropriateness and nutrition), and the stability of these dimensions over time (FAO
2008). Further work had been done to distinguish different causes and types of food
insecurity – such as chronic versus transitory food insecurity – and the ways in which they
can be overcome (FAO 2008). This food security definition, its components, and its implied
interventions can be criticized for their many inadequacies, particularly in their failure to
address larger systemic processes causing poverty. This definition also says nothing about
how and where the food was produced or consumed. For instance, in accordance with this
definition, it is possible to be food secure in prison or under a dictatorship, and regardless
of whether the food was produced using slave labour and at the cost of environmental
destruction (Patel 2009b). Nevertheless, despite its shortcomings, the methodological
salience and practicality of the 1996 food security definition has kept it as the grounding
frame for much of the work investigating food access and nutrition to date (FAO 2011).
2.2 Cash crops and food security
With the rise of neoliberal logics in agricultural policies during the 1980s, global food
security came to be associated with efficiency gains from regional specialization in food
production, coupled with liberalized international trade (Clapp 2015). The theory of
comparative advantage was frequently invoked to support structural adjustment policies
calling for the deregulation of capital, finance, labour, and trade, and devaluation of
currency in favour of unrestricted foreign direct investment and stimulation of export
markets (Llambi 1994). The key argument underpinning the comparative advantage
rationale was that countries should embrace their specific endowments – including land,
climate, labour costs, and technology – and specialize in the production of goods that entail
the least opportunity cost and yield maximum efficiency gains (Clapp 2015). In pursuit of
competitiveness, non-traditional export crops, such as fresh fruits and vegetables, were
adopted in many Latin American countries throughout the 1970s-90s (Llambi 1994).
24
Meanwhile, the global North (i.e. the U.S., Canada, and European countries) dominated
global grain production given a favourable temperate climate and prevalence of
mechanized farming (albeit, usually with state support) (Clapp 2016). At the same time,
countries of the global South moved away from staple grain production and became
increasingly reliant on grain imports. Such was the case in Guatemala, which had become a
net-importer of staple maize in the 1980s as the cultivation of non-traditional crops took
hold (Isakson 2014).
The proponents of the comparative advantage approach saw specialization and trade
liberalization as essential to the enhancement of food security, claiming that the resultant
production efficiency and greater competition had done their job in lowering food prices
and increased consumer purchasing power (Lamy 2011; Sun et al.1999; Fan et al. 1994;
Greenaway et al 1994; World Bank 2007; FAO 2003). Thus, the promotion of cash crops as
a means of improving food security in poverty-stricken rural regions fit smoothly into the
market-centered development paradigm that emerged in the 1990s. Within this paradigm,
food security was conceived as a consequence of other development goals, particularly the
generation of new income sources and employment in regions that otherwise had little
else. In introducing much-needed jobs and spurring economic activity, cash crop
production could purportedly raise incomes and purchasing power of local residents, thus
boosting their entitlements and access to food (c.f. Sen 1981).
This neoliberal vision of development and food security took shape in the active promotion
of high-demand export crops and non-traditional crops in developing countries. High-
value labour-intensive fresh fruits and vegetables were extensively promoted throughout
the 1970s and ‘80s by states in the global South, following the policies – and pressures –
from the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank, and USAID (Conroy et al.
1996). The production of coffee was encouraged throughout Africa, Latin America, and
Vietnam under a similar umbrella of development policies in the 1990s and 2000s,
culminating in the ‘coffee crisis’ of the early 2000s when a global oversupply led to
plummeting prices (Chauvin et al. 2012; Hallam 2004).
Despite the variable results of cash crop promotion initiatives, this development approach
continued to be deployed in recent decades, particularly with respect to the rising global
25
commodity crops or flex crops. Flex crops are crops with many possible uses including
food, animal feed, fuel, fiber, and industrial materials. With growing interest in biofuels as
fossil fuel alternatives, flex crops have landed at the center of discourses on emerging
bioeconomies. In having multiple and presumably interchangeable demand centers, flex
crops are particularly attractive to investors seeking to mitigate risk while taking
advantage of price spikes in booming markets. As such, flex crops such as sugarcane, soy,
corn, and oil palm, have recently become the subject of large investments and
unprecedented expansion, thus playing a profound role in shaping contemporary agrarian
transformations and reconfiguring agricultural economies in the global South (Borras et al.
2015).
It is pertinent to note that the rising interest in flex crops is distinctly tied to the increasing
presence of financial actors in the food sector (i.e. ‘financialization’ discussed in the
following chapter), which has marshalled a shift of power towards investors and financial
institutions in agriculture (Borras et al. 2015; Clapp and Isakson 2018). The push for oil
palm development in Guatemala and other parts of the world, was incentivized not only by
the insatiable global demand for palm oil and its derivatives (i.e. the physical products of
the crop), but also by the interests of domestic and foreign investors to partake in lucrative
markets, including financial markets (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2016). On the surface, oil palm
was integrated into rural development strategies as a high-demand crop, with the
expectation of generating employment and raising rural incomes. Other benefits, including
building of infrastructure and improving food security, were often implicitly lumped
together with plantation establishment and job creation (FAO 2011; Guereña and Zepeda
2013). However, little consideration was afforded to the systemic causes of poverty and
food insecurity, or the implications of altering the local power dynamics via the
introduction of a global commodity crop.
2.3 Targeting smallholders and contract farmers
In the 2000s, food security and rural development saw another discourse shift.
International agendas for sustainable development, poverty reduction, and food security
had turned their focus to smallholder farmers. The shift had inevitably been in part due to
the recognition of the proportional role of smallholder farmers in the global production of
26
crops. Even amid the increasing dominance of multinational agribusinesses in the global
food regime (McMichael 2005), small scale farming is hard to ignore as it continues to be
the globally predominant form of agriculture. Smallholder farms of less than 5 hectares
collectively account for more than 80% of global rice production, as well as a sizeable
portion of global cotton, sugarcane and oil palm (estimated to be around 40%) (Samberg et
al. 2016). In their 2016 paper, Lowder et al. (2016) estimated that 72% of farms around
the world are smaller than 1ha. Furthermore, amalgamated at the global scale, smallholder
farms produce around half of the human-consumed food calories, making them extremely
important for global food security. Small or family farms are particularly vital in
supporting the poorest regions of the world, where they often supply the vast majority of
locally-consumed calories and are an important source of rural employment (Samberg et al
2016; HLPE 2013; FAO 2011).
One of the key tenets behind the push to support small scale farmers had been the idea that
small scale family operated farms use land more efficiently than large scale farms, while
being generally more responsive to new markets and technologies (Deininger and Feder
1998; World Bank 1994). Since small farms employ primarily family labourers, they have a
greater incentive to increase productivity and less need to spend resources on supervision
(Deininger and Feder 1998). The idea of an inverse relationship between farm size and
productivity has since been challenged, but not necessarily disproven (Ali and Deininger
2015). Nevertheless, it has been instrumental in shaping land and agricultural policies in
the 1990s and 2000s, and continues to emerge in development research (c.f. Paul and
Githinji 2018).
A range of policies in support of smallholder farmers were put forward – all conforming to
the food security framing and in step with the previous goals leading to continued
liberalization and internationalization of agriculture. Enhancing smallholder productivity
and integrating smallholders into value chains were the key preoccupations. Improvement
of rural infrastructure, support of innovation in rural governance, technological transfer,
facilitation of investment and access to finance were declared as the most urgent needs of
struggling smallholders (UNCTAD 2015; HLPE 2013). Advancement of contract farming, a
general strengthening of public-private partnerships, and effective assimilation of
27
smallholders into national and regional markets were among the chief recommendations of
the FAO, specifically aimed at alleviating chronic smallholder food insecurity (HLPE 2013;
McMichael 2013; Miller and Jones 2010). Citing the 2008-2009 food crisis as a special
concern, the IMF echoed a similar imperative of improving smallholder productivity and
boosting domestic agricultural production and exports as a targeted remedy for food
insecurity caused by rising food and fuel prices in the global South. The IMF went further
to recommend the full liberalization of agricultural commodity markets, elimination of
subsidies and price controls, and removal of trade barriers (IMF 2017).
In line with the recommendations from international organizations, promotion of contract
farming emerged as a popular ‘win-win’ development tactic that would bring together the
large players in agricultural markets with small farmers so as to open up new
opportunities for both. However, the tactic has been heavily interrogated in literature,
particularly for its propensity to severely limit the farmers’ agency while saddling them
with a disproportionately high risk burden. Contract farming terms tend to lock
purportedly ‘free’ farmers into exploitative relations with more powerful actors in the
supply chain (Watts 1990). As per Little and Watts (1994), contract farmers are vertically
coordinated in a way that their production decisions are shaped by the buyer-processor’s
contractually specified obligations regarding product quality, quantity, price, and farming
inputs and/or management. In many cases, agribusinesses form regional monopsonies for
purchasing independently-grown crops. Thus, they hold unprecedented power in the
production relations without necessarily having to own, and take on risks for, the entire
production process (Oya 2012; Clapp 1988). The transfer of risk from agribusiness to
farmer via contract is a substantial factor in the marginalization and exacerbated
vulnerability of the contract farmer. Dealing with contract farmers means that the
agribusiness does not directly bear the risks associated with soil productivity, climate, crop
disease, pests, or even problems with farm labour (Clapp 1988).
It also cannot be ignored that the largest share of the value in agricultural value chains is
increasingly concentrated in processing, distribution, and retailing, thus dis-incentivizing
investment in crop cultivation (Lawrence and Dixon 2015; Burch and Lawrence 2007;
Gibbon and Ponte 2005). Some scholars have suggested that contracting outgrowers is in
28
fact an effective mechanism of labour exploitation and cost reduction for agribusinesses.
Specifically, contracting with farmers allows the agribusinesses to reduce supervision
costs, exploit non-waged household labour, avoid responsibility for upholding good
working conditions, and bypassing labour laws (Oya 2012; Herath and Weersink 2009;
Carney 1988; Clapp 1988; De Schutter 2011b; Glover and Kusterer 1990).
Despite the concerns about the significant drawbacks for farmers, contract farming
continued to be entrenched in food security objectives and asserted as the prescription of
choice for the development of many struggling rural regions in the global South. Farmers
in developing countries were (and continue to be) routinely encouraged to harness their
comparative advantage and adopt cash crops (Isakson 2014; World Bank 2007; Conroy et
al. 1996) in order to generate higher returns and take advantage of rising food prices
rather than fall victim to them (IMF 2017; World Bank 2007; Balat and Porto 2006). This
logic was a prime basis for the ascent of non-traditional export crops in Guatemala,
including and winter vegetables, and later- oil palm (further elaborated in Chapter 3).
2.4 Oil palm contract farmers and development
Over the last two decades, oil palm cultivation had been extensively promoted as a pro-
poor rural development strategy by multilateral organizations and by national
governments including those of Indonesia, Malaysia, Ghana, and more recently – Guatemala
(Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Obidzinski et al. 2012; World Bank 2011, 2007; FAO 2010;
McCarthy 2010; PESAN 2009). One of the main objectives, as stated in the 2007 World
Bank report, has been to integrate contract farmers into agricultural value chains, and thus
‘bring [smallholder] agriculture to the market’. As was previously the case for other cash
crops, the push for oil palm development followed the rationale of generating employment
opportunities and raising incomes thereby improving food security in rural areas
otherwise plagued by unemployment and poverty (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; FAO 2010).
Among the challenges of disentangling the socio-economic consequences of oil palm
expansion in producer regions is the variety of production models and contracting
arrangements that exist (see Table 1 for disambiguation of terms used in this thesis), and
the power relations that exist between different producers and other actors in the value
29
chain. Oil palm producers can be multinational agribusiness conglomerates such as Wilmar
and Cargill, which own and operate numerous large oil palm plantations, processing plants,
and other facilities in one or several countries (Salerno 2016; Obidzinski et al. 2012). In
such instances, large agribusinesses acquire vast tracts of land and subsequently cover
them with oil palm, amounting to swift and drastic changes to the landscape and to the
livelihoods of local residents (Salerno 2016; Obidzinski et al. 2012). In Indonesia -
currently the largest oil palm producer in the world – the oil palm sector is dominated by a
cluster of these multinational groups, including Cargill, Lyman, Sinar Mas and Wilmar.
Together, they control several million hectares of oil palm plantations in the country
(Obidzinski et al. 2012).
On the other side of the spectrum, there are individual farmers who are sometimes
successful agro-entrepreneurs with substantial land holdings, and other times smallholders
operating a few hectares of land. Smaller farmers nearly always work under contract with
large agribusiness, though contracting terms can vary substantially. For instance, the
agribusinesses in Southeast Asia have established partnerships with thousands of contract
farmers, many of them smallholders, through a variety of out-grower and contract schemes
(Obidzinski et al. 2012; Hall et al. 2011; Rist et al. 2010). In 2009, smallholders accounted
for approximately 40% of the 7.1 million ha land area dedicated to oil palm production in
Southeast Asia (Fischer 2010). Smallholders also make up a substantial portion of oil palm
producers in West Africa, although the expansion of oil palm in Africa continues to be
driven by large agribusinesses with well-established links to regional and global markets
(Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013).
In Southeast Asia, versions of hybrid smallholder-large plantation models have also been
implemented, though contracting terms and support provisions have changed substantially
over time (see Hall et al. 2011; McCarthy 2010). In Indonesia, some well-established
smallholders had recently begun to grow oil palm without contracts. However, they are
usually from villages with previous ties to oil palm agribusinesses (Gatto et al. 2018; Euler
et al. 2016).
30
Table 1: Oil palm producer categories* as referred to in this thesis.
Term Definition
Agribusiness Large, often multinational, private or public corporations
controlling vast estates typically ranging from 1000ha to over
20000ha (Sheil et al. 2009 in Comte et al. 2012)
Contract
farmers/growers/
producers
Refers to oil palm growers that are not directly owned or operated
by a large agribusiness. They can be family-based or other private
farms, typically working under contract with a large agribusiness.
Contract farmer landholdings can vary in size from less than 2ha to
several hundred hectares. Those operating on less than 50ha of
land9 are regarded as smallholders (c.f. Vermeulen and Goad 2006
in Comte et al. 2012). Some contract farmers employ wage
labourers.
*These are contestable definitions, which do not reflect the full spectrum of producer types and characteristics. Oil
palm contract farmers in Guatemala range substantially in terms of land holding size.
The relationship between contract growers and their buyer-processors is complex one –
embodying both dependency and subjugation. Contract oil palm growers are essentially
never independent from large agribusinesses, as they typically rely on their processing
facilities and market connections to sell their product. The quickly-decomposable oil palm
fruit requires a reliable and efficient production, transportation, and processing system
that must be readily accessible to the growers. Failure to process the fruit within 48 hours
results in complete harvest loss. Therefore, to stay viable, palm growers must have access
to a processing facility that is located within a feasible distance and has adequate capacity
to process the required volume of fruit (Hall et al. 2011). With exception of some micro-
enterprises in Africa, where farmers (or gatherers of native wild oil palm fruit) hand-
process their harvest in small volumes (Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013), contract
9 Though 50ha of land may not seem small in absolute terms, the oil palm farmers who operate in this
category are relatively small-scale producers in the Guatemalan context. In 2003, 83% of oil palm production in the country occurred on landholdings of over 453 ha in size; 59% of oil palm was produced on landholdings between 906 and 2264 ha (Isakson 2014; INE 2004).
31
producers generally depend on contract arrangements with the nearest extraction plant to
process, and typically buy, their fruit (Hall et al. 2011). Extraction plants are usually owned
and operated by large agribusinesses for processing harvests from their own plantations,
as is the case in Guatemala (Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013). In Honduras, the oil palm
industry is likewise dominated by large agro-firms, which own and operate high-capacity
extraction plants and refineries, and play a defining role in controlling and monitoring the
value chain at the local level (Fromm 2007). As in many other places, small-scale
Honduran contract producers are constrained by deficient infrastructure, farming
technology, and access to credit, with some farmers coming to rely on their contracting
agribusinesses for extension services. In turn, agribusinesses provide very limited
assistance while imposing product standards on their suppliers, which small-scale farmers
may or may not be able to cope with in the long run (Fromm 2007).
Despite criticism from (largely) academics, governments and multilateral development
institutions have been eager to promote smallholder oil palm cultivation as a pro-poor
development strategy, particularly in Africa and Latin America (USAID 2014; Deininger et
al. 2011; World Bank 2011, 2007; FAO 2010). The limited empirical research to validate
the approach has shown that the development impacts of oil palm cultivation can be highly
variable and contingent upon a large set of factors, including pre-existing social relations,
geographical location (e.g. proximity of growers to markets), and terms of incorporation
into the oil palm business sector (Obidzinski et al. 2012; McCarthy 2010; Gasparatos et al.
2010). Still, some scholars found that contract farming in general has negligible impact on
the growers’ poverty, due to the monopsonistic relationship between the growers and the
buyer (Sivramkrishna and Jyotishi 2008). Others have argued that the specific contracting
terms have been key in determining which oil palm farmers (and their host communities)
prospered and which came to be comparatively worse off (Gatto et al. 2018; McCarthy
2010). In some instances, positive income and employment trends have been observed
(Mingorría et al. 2014; Koczberski 2012). Under favourable contract conditions
accompanied by sufficient government support with input provision, technical assistance,
loan subsidies, and public investments in infrastructure, some Indonesian oil palm farmers
32
have flourished, with observable spillover effects10 in their home villages (Gatto et al.
2018). In Malaysia, oil palm has been credited with substantially reducing poverty in the
agricultural sector (Arif and Tengku 2001). However, not everyone had benefitted equally
from oil palm expansion with the already well-off and well-connected farmers tending to
benefit the most (Euler et al. 2017; McCarthy 2010). On the other hand, farmers in poorer,
more remote villages, typically had a hard time obtaining benefits, especially if they lacked
the skills and experience in oil palm cultivation (Obidzinski et al. 2012). Some of the
Indonesian producers, particularly smallholders entering into the business under
unfavorable contract terms, have remained trapped in or slid deeper into poverty
(McCarthy 2010). Studies from Africa and Southeast Asia have also raised concerns about
the ability of small-medium contract producers to compete with larger enterprises without
government support. Lower crop yields (which can be 3 times less per land area than
yields in a large plantation within the same region), limited bargaining power, and higher
vulnerability to economic and environmental shocks are some of the major issues that the
capital-limited producers have faced (Nkongho et al. 2014; Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013;
Li 2011).
In general, oil palm cultivation comes with formidable risks related to uncertainties in the
production chain (e.g. fluctuation of farming input prices) and associated commodity
markets (Norwana et al. 2011; Gasparatos et al. 2010). Taking up oil palm cultivation can
be particularly treacherous for smallholders as the crop entails high initial investment and
input costs that smaller producers are often unable to advance without aid programs or
taking on significant debt (Alonso-Fradejas 2011; Gasparatos et al. 2010; McCarthy 2010).
Smaller and asset-poor farmers are also less able to cope with risks, while wealthier
farmers can use their assets to get them through adverse price movements, environmental
events, and other shocks. Further to the their initial economic standing, the contract
farmers’ opportunities and risks can differ substantially between policy and institutional
10 In Gatto et al. (2018), spillovers included public and private infrastructure investments that came along
with contract schemes, which all village residents benefitted from regardless of their relationship/participation with oil palm.
33
environments and access to support schemes (i.e. credit, skills training, access to farming
inputs) (Obidzinski et al. 2012; McCarthy 2010).
Researchers have argued that the engagement of the state in actively assisting and
providing resources to contract farmers is critical for ensuring their inclusion into the oil
palm sector under favourable terms and achieving rural poverty reduction (McCarthy
2010; Hickey and du Tout 2007). It has also been suggested, however, that while oil palm
may provide a way to prosperity for some smallholders, it may also reconfigure social
relations in a manner that eventually works against the poor11 (McCarthy 2010). It follows
that even the best pro-smallholder policy on its own, is not likely to be enough to generate
inclusive and sustainable development.
Overall, the socio-economic impact of contract oil palm growers on the communities where
they operate has not been well understood. Some researchers have claimed that farmer
contract schemes can be more effective in reducing rural poverty than the establishment of
large agribusiness-operated plantations, as the out-grower approach results in more even
income distribution and is more inclusive of unskilled labour (USAID 2014b; Nkongho et al.
2014; Arndt et al. 2010). Some instances of successful oil palm contract farms have been
documented, where the farmers generated wealth that trickled down and created
secondary economies in their host communities (Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013; Li 2011;
Rist et al. 2010; McCarthy 2010). Contract producers have been credited with generating
employment, including opportunities for women, thereby contributing to poverty
alleviation due to increased household income (Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013; Norwana et
al. 2011; Warner and Bauer 2002). Remarkably, some prosperous oil palm smallholders in
Malaysia have even been able to offer higher wages than their neighbouring plantations
belonging to large agribusinesses (Li 2011). At the same time, the overall volume and
quality of employment opportunities generated by oil palm cultivation has been questioned
11 For instance, when the terms of incorporation into the oil palm sector involve high cost barriers, the
poorer farmers may be included under the conditions that do not allow them to prosper (McCarthy 2010). Setting the farmers up for struggle carries implications for the farmers themselves, as well as their labourers and host communities.
34
in development literature. A sizeable portion of the documented oil palm work has been
temporary and/or seasonal with wages that are not enough to escape poverty (Gasparatos
et al. 2010). Those lacking skill in oil palm cultivation have often not able to obtain oil palm
employment at all (Obidzinski et al. 2012).
The employment opportunities and overall development value that the oil palm farmers
bring to their communities are contingent upon the farmers’ own success, and are
therefore diminished under unfavourable conditions or highly exploitive and/or restrictive
contracting terms (Ofosu-Budu and Sarpong 2013; Obidzinski et al. 2012; Li 2011;
McCarthy 2010). In dire cases where contract farmers are unable to maintain adequate
production and/or cover the debt they accrued when acquiring inputs, they themselves can
be forced to become wage labourers to supplement their farm income, or even to sell their
land (Li 2011; McCarthy 2010). In such scenarios, particularly where oil palm expansion
extinguishes other livelihood options, host communities risk landing themselves in a bleak
position of dependence on the oil palm economy (including the associated input sector)
within which they are increasingly marginalized, and as a result face even deeper poverty
(McCarthy 2010; Hickey and du Toit 2007).
The case study presented in this thesis challenges the mainstream narrative that the
promotion of oil palm to contract farmers necessarily yields positive rural development
outcomes. Echoing earlier concerns (Norwana et al. 2011; McCarthy 2010; Hickey and du
Toit 2007), it is shown here that small-medium contract oil palm producers can be highly
vulnerable to global commodity market fluctuations, which severely limits their capacity to
offer stable and equitable employment or to contribute to local development in other ways
such as building infrastructure or driving secondary economies, contrary to what has been
suggested in international development forums (FAO 2011). In step with earlier literature,
the results from this study suggest that contracts for oil palm production often compel the
exploitation of household labour on contract farms and contribute to the development of
precarious labour terms and poor working conditions (c.f. De Schutter 2011; Glover and
Kusterer 1990; Carney 1988). Furthermore, the continued expansion of oil palm extends
the vulnerability of the households in the host community by extinguishing other types of
35
agricultural jobs and livelihood options, thereby reinforcing simultaneous dependence and
marginalization of the host communities within the oil palm sector (c.f. McCarthy 2010).
One of the key issues that is unpacked in the context of the case study is the link between
the adoption of oil palm and the effects on rural incomes – for the smallholder growers of
oil palm, their employees and employee households, and the remaining households that are
not employed by oil palm growers. Similar to earlier studies in Southeast Asia (Obidzinski
et al. 2012; Gasparatos et al. 2010), it is shown here that the bulk of the employment
offered by contract oil palm growers is precarious and non-inclusive – in some ways even
more so than in large oil palm agribusinesses operating in neighbouring regions. Unlike
some cases in Southeast Asia (c.f. Gatto et al. 2018), no significant positive spillovers were
observed. Households that were not directly benefitting from oil palm in their village were
only burdened with negative social, economic, and environmental consequences of the
crop, leading to greater inter-village inequality.
Overall, this case study problematizes the widely purported positive relationship between
high-demand cash crop establishment and rural development, as the producers are shown
to be highly vulnerable to global commodity market conditions, while the remaining
households in the host communities reap limited and temporary benefits and endure
potentially high social, economic, and environmental costs from oil palm in their
communities.
2.5 The food security link
The relationship between cash crop cultivation and food security remains a highly debated
topic in academia and in policy forums. The debate takes form in many dichotomies, each
riddled with its own questions and controversies. Disputes in relation to specialization
versus diversification in farming systems, production for local consumption versus
international crop buyers, smallholders versus large agribusinesses, and even food versus
fuel (or both?) have been deliberated in one or another way in the context of food security
goals (Michler and Josephson 2017; Anderman et al. 2014; Godfray et al. 2010; Tanenbaum
2008).
36
Case studies of food security impacts from cash crop expansion are few and widely spread
out geographically, with an even smaller subset examining oil palm. The main conclusion
that can be drawn from the available literature on the topic is that the relationship between
cash crop expansion and food security in producer regions is far more complicated than
has been insinuated in the mainstream development discourses, where enhanced food
security is assumed to be an automatic consequence of rising incomes (IMF 2017; UNCTAD
2015; HLPE 2013).
Yet, empirical studies have shown that even in instances where increases in household
income and other benefits were observed, the outcome for food security has not always
been clear. For instance, if rising household income from cash crop adoption is
accompanied by a rising food prices, the net result may be a net loss in purchasing power,
especially if the producers continue to buy a sizeable share of their consumed food
(Anderman et al. 2014, De Janvry and Sadoulet 2010). Furthermore, in cases where the
expansion of cash crops causes environmental degradation, food products obtained from
the local forests and water bodies can also become scarce (Obidzinski et al. 2012).
Therefore, the variety and nutrition of the locally available food may decline as well
(Anderman et al. 2014). Even more complex is the relationship between cash crop
expansion and the food security of neighbours [or community members] who do not
cultivate the cash crop, some of whom may be benefitting from cash crop employment and
income, while others not. To date, this relationship had not been well studied.
One of the central concerns surrounding cash crops, which are often set for export, is their
tendency to displace the production of locally-consumed staple crops. Contrary to the
comparative advantage logic that has dominated in development approaches (Lamy 2011;
FAO 2003; World Bank 2007), some studies have emphasized the importance of continued
staple crop cultivation amid cash crop expansion, especially for households living in severe
poverty (Anderman et al 2014; Kamoyo et al. 2015; Negash and Swinnen 2013; Komarek
2010; Isakson 2009). For instance, a study of oil palm and cacao producers in Ghana
revealed that the intensity of household cash crop production was associated with a decline
in food availability, access, and utilization. Blame was placed primarily on the parallel rise
in the prices of food staples and increased competition for land caused by the cash crop
37
boom (Anderman et al. 2014). A reduction in subsistence crops had rendered many
households more prone to food gaps since the main staple crops in this region (cassava,
maize, and plantains) provide a more continuous flow of income and consumable food
compared to the irregular lump sum payments generated by cash crops (Anderman et al.
2014). Food gap periods can also coincide with seasonal food price variations, which
further compromise food access for the poorest people in the region. Indeed, smallholder
staple crop production has previously been lauded for its importance in cushioning
households from food price shocks (De Janvry and Sadoulet 2011; Baiphethi and Jacobs
2009; Isakson 2009).
Furthering the challenge against the imperative of harnessing comparative advantage, this
thesis re-emphasises the importance of continued support for local staple crop cultivation
for sustaining inclusive agricultural jobs, maintaining equity in the local food system, and
reducing the risk of hunger. The presented analysis reveals a complex relationship
between the local staple crop (in this case, maize) production and the implication of oil
palm presence in the community with respect to farm size, input requirements and costs,
labour costs, and other factors. In placing oil-palm-related income gains in the context of
the concurrent strains on local food production and rising food costs, limited improvement
and rising inequality in food access are revealed. Moreover, oil palm expansion has
compromised local access to specific kinds of foods – namely fresh perishable fruits,
vegetables, and herbs. Therefore in expanding the food security question to include local
diet and nutrition, oil palm expansion has so far tended to create problems that are not
easily addressed by market dynamics and require specific consideration. The socio-
ecological food systems framework was chosen as the methodological approach to better
encompasses the socio-economic and environmental factors leading to changes in diet and
nutrition.
In short, the results presented in this thesis raise questions about the efficacy of the
strategy to promote cash crops to smallholders as a means to improve local food security,
especially when equity, risk, nutrition, and implications for the environment are taken into
account. Put within Amartya Sen’s entitlement framing (Drèze and Sen 1989; Sen 1981), it
can be said that the ongoing expansion of oil palm is eroding the communities’
38
endowments, including farmland, forest, soil, and water resources, thereby limiting their
current food entitlements and future development prospects. At the same time,
employment and income benefits from oil palm do not adequately translate into increased
purchasing power and food entitlements for the majority of residents.
2.6 Socio-ecological systems: a parallel narrative
One of the goals of this thesis is to incorporate environmental variables into food security
analysis, and move towards a more interdisciplinary understanding of food security within
a dynamic socio-ecological system. To achieve this, the situated socio-ecological food
systems (SEFS) framework is used as the basis of analysis. The purpose is to unpack not
only the immediate observable ecological and socio-economic impacts of oil palm on local
food entitlements, but also to track the broader changes in food system dynamics that will
likely impact the communities’ endowments and long-term development prospects. At the
same time, the situated SEFS approach allows for the incorporation of historical, social and
political relations into the analysis of the causes of vulnerability.
The SEFS framework emerged out of socio-ecological systems (SES) studies linking earth
science and ecosystem management with human activities. As defined by the Stockholm
Resilience Centre (2018) – a think tank that promotes resilience theory in environmental
and development organizations – the socio-ecological system is a dynamic, complex, and
adaptive system where human and non-human entities interact. The genealogy of
contemporary resilience thinking can be traced back to the influential work of the ecologist
C.S. Holling, who sought to re-orient the field away from the equilibrium-centered
approach to ecosystem understanding, towards recognizing ecosystem complexity,
heterogeneity, and inherent instability (Walker and Cooper 2011). Holling’s earlier
research (Holling 1973) challenged the preceding conceptualization of resilience, which
was tied to the time that an ecological system would take to restore itself back to the
(presumably long-term) stable equilibrium state after a perturbation (Lewontin 1969;
Odum 1969). Holling suggested instead that the concept of ecological resilience should
incorporate the system’s ability to absorb (at times, extreme) changes in its variables and
parameters and still persist (Holling 1973). In their later work, Holling and his colleagues
went further to theorize that all ecosystems and socio-ecological systems undergo non-
39
linear ‘adaptive cycles’ comprised of four phases: rapid successional growth, stable
equilibrium, collapse, and spontaneous reorganization leading to a new growth phase
(Holling 2001; Gunderson and Holling 2002). Spreading beyond ecology, this research of
socio-ecological resilience proposed that resilience, and indeed crisis and collapse are
integral to the co-evolution of societies and the biosphere (Walker and Cooper 2011).
Walker and Cooper (2011) argue that Holling’s later work garnered influence in the policy
arena partly due to its close alignment with Friedrich Hayek’s theory of free market
dynamics and social evolution. Presenting the failures of centrally-planned economies as
counter-example, Hayek advocated for decentralized and floating price signalling systems
and criticized the Keynesian welfare state and neoclassical equilibrium models (Hayek
1945; 1967). Though he did not formally cite Holling’s work, Hayek invoked concepts of
resilience, complex adaptive systems, and self-organization to support his theories of
spontaneous market order of capitalism, and back his stance against counter-evolutionary
state control, inclusively, denouncing the 1972 Limits to Growth report commissioned by
the Club of Rome (Walker and Cooper 2011).
Early socio-ecological systems (SES) research aimed to visualize human-environment
interactions in their complexity and to understand the long-term environmental
consequences of human activities (Allen and Prosperi 2016). Similarly, works on
adaptation, vulnerability, and resilience examined communities’ social interactions and
social-environmental interactions, in terms of the communities’ capacity to adapt to and/or
absorb change. The analytical core of these studies typically held concepts including self-
organization, social networks, knowledge building, adaptive management, insurance, and
other constituents of ‘adaptive governance’ (Adger 2006, 2009; Agrawal and Perrin 2009;
Folke 2006; Nelson et al. 2007; Olsson et al. 2006). In the last two decades, these aspects of
the SES framework have gained considerable ground in international institutions aspiring
to ‘build resilience’ in the face of looming large-scale threats such as climate change,
financial crises, pandemics, and terrorism (World Bank 2008; World Economic Forum
2008; Walker and Cooper 2011). SES and the resilience framework are now widely
deployed analytical lenses for evaluating the dynamics of social-economic-environmental
40
systems and have become highly influential on policy making for sustainability (Leach
2008).
Despite the growing appeal of SES for vulnerability/resilience analysis and environmental
governance applications, a number of scholars have critiqued the framework for giving
insufficient attention to context, history, and the causal factors of vulnerability and its
under-theorization of social structures and power(Watts 2015, Cote and Nightingale 2011;
Walker et al. 2006). The framework’s over-emphasis on physical shocks, system structure
and institutional function (trying to ‘get the rules right’), they argued, gave inadequate
consideration to cultural values and power relations that govern social transformation and
impact environmental change (Cote and Nightingale 2011). Furthermore, the focus on
feedbacks between the social and ecological processes and, more generally, placing social
and ecological spheres within the same epistemology, could result in obscured
understandings of social action and overlooked roles of place-specific historical, cultural,
and political conditions (Cote and Nightingale 2011; Walker et al. 2006). Walker et al.
(2006), for instance, cautioned against homogenizing the perspective of society, where in
fact some changes that are seen as ‘positive’ by one social segment can be heavily opposed
by another (c.f. Taylor 2015; Harrison and Chiroro 2017).
Going further, Watts reprehends SES for its altogether problematic amalgamation of society
and nature (Watts 2015). He rejects the idea of a transcendent adaptive socio-ecological
order, and argued for the need to recognize that the ecological system is construed in
different ways by different communities and classes (c.f. Blaikie 1985), and is commodified
and monetized by capital (c.f. Harvey 2014). Furthermore, Watts questioned the capability
of SES to address key sources of social vulnerability that lie in structures of domination,
contestation of power, and accumulation of capital (Watts 2015). Particularly problematic
is Holling’s theorization of capital, where it is reduced to ‘the inherent potential of a system
that is available for change, since that potential determines the range of future options
possible’ (Holling 2001). In other words, for Holling, capital is understood as an ahistorical
category where power and class relations are effectively ignored, and the crisis tendencies
of capitalism are perceived as inherent to complex adaptive systems. Opposing this view,
Watts argues that adaptation, resilience, and other SES concepts must themselves be
41
recognized as hegemonic forms that are un-challenging to capital, which he sees as the
dominant ecological system (Watts 2015).
The emergence of resilience as a preeminent development goal has occluded inquiry into
the causes of vulnerability, which has troubling implications for the treatment of poor
people in development policy and practice. Walker and Cooper (2011) highlight this in
their critical analysis of the UNDP’s 2008 report, Roots of Resilience, in which poor
communities are tasked with becoming more socially and economically resilient by scaling
up localized and decentralized ecosystem-based enterprises. Walker and Cooper argue
that, in this vision, the development objective for the poor is no longer improved living
conditions and the affluence of the First World, but mere survival (i.e. just getting by,
coping). This leads to broader questions concerning resilience as a measure of meaningful
development and the dangers of over-emphasizing of the poor’s ability to survive as
opposed to regulating the social processes that produce their marginalization and
vulnerability (Walker and Cooper 2011; Watts 2015).
2.7 Methods: situated SEFS
While some of the deeper questions concerning the implications of SES thinking in
development still stand, much of the recent SES work has given considerable attention to
the socio-economic aspects and power dynamics that shape vulnerability and resilience
(Leach et al. 2018; Hall et al. 2015; Ribot 2014; Allen 2010; Liverman 1990). As has
especially been the case in socio-ecological food systems (SEFS) research, empirical studies
have sought to understand the sources of vulnerability and poverty leading to food
insecurity in particular places (c.f. Ericksen 2008b; Eakin and Luers 2006; Luers et al.
2003). By integrating context-specific political ecology-type analysis with SES, many
researchers have taken strides to address the weaknesses of SES while taking advantage of
its strengths.
One of the key contributions of SES/SEFS research to the food security discourse has been
the comprehensive integration of environmental processes and the increased recognition
of their importance to food security, especially in the context of global environmental
change (Allen and Prosperi 2016; Ericksen et al. 2009). Though not unproblematic in its
42
treatment of vulnerability (e.g. sometimes missing out on a thorough examination of
power-laden dynamics of agency), SEFS work has drawn due attention to the multi-scale
challenges of increasingly globalized food systems amid significant environmental
constraints and large-scale threats including climate change, biodiversity loss, and other
aspects of ecological degradation (Ericksen et al. 2009; Leichenko and O’Brien 2008).
Environmental implications become especially relevant in oil palm research given the
large-scale land use changes attributed to oil palm expansion, which have the potential to
severely disrupt food systems at local and global scales (Borras et al. 2015; Gregory and
Ingram 2008). Since the cultivation of oil palm continues to be championed as a strategy to
enhance food security, it is important to consider the linkages and feedbacks between
environmental changes related to the development of oil palm and the various social,
ecological, and economic aspects of food systems.
The SEFS framework has also been instrumental in directing attention to the so-called
ecological slow variables, which are crucial for long-term stability and food security, yet
often tend to be overlooked (Walker et al. 2014). Slow variables are aspects of the
ecological system that remain relatively constant over time due to the system’s self-
regulation. These include water cycling, forest regeneration, soil fertility, and other
landscape functions. Because slow variables form the basis of ecosystem resilience,
pushing them beyond their critical thresholds can trigger a transition of the system to an
irreversible new state (Garmestani and Allen 2014). Though large-scale ecological
changes, including those associated with flex crops, can trigger significant shifts in slow
variables, this topic remains a significant gap in food security research.
Another contribution of SEFS to food studies is its potential to capture cross-scalar
reflexive relationships between different food system elements, which can be obscured in
the absence of a system-type view (Ostrom 2009). The critical importance of cross-scalar
analysis for understanding food security has become particularly evident as food
production and distribution arrangements are becoming increasingly globalized and
intertwined in ways that carry hard-to-predict consequences for food producers and
consumers (Foran et al. 2014; McMichael 2005). More generally, SES has been lauded for
its analytical potential in drawing out connections between distant places and sectors,
43
interaction of drivers at nested scales (e.g. global, national, local), and temporal variations –
which are especially relevant for predicting future vulnerabilities and constructing
forward-looking policies (Eakin et al. 2009). While caution must be exercised to avoid
more apolitical applications, a SEFS approach to research on agrifood provisioning is
increasingly pertinent in light of the rising prevalence of globally-linked inter-sectoral
policies (e.g. climate change mitigation policies mandating the expansion of biofuel use),
mounting speculative investment in food and agriculture (Clapp and Isakson 2018), and
the need to link ‘siloed’ research streams (e.g. water and energy security) given their strong
relation to food security (Loring et al. 2013; Ericksen et al. 2009). SEFS thus remains
important in analyzing human-environmental food systems in both the academic and
policy-making arenas (Ingram 2014; Ericksen et al. 2010).
The framework adopted in this thesis resembles what Cote and Nightingale (2011) refer to
as the ‘situated resilience approach’, applied to the SEFS framework in Ericksen et al.
(2010). The situated approach, as used here, integrates the analysis of food system
structures and properties with the local historical, social and political relations. Thus, the
approach expands less contextualized applications of the SEFS framework, enabling
engagement with issues of power, exclusion, privilege, and in/equity as socio-political
drivers of vulnerability. In addressing one of the key weaknesses of the earlier
conceptualizations of SES, the approach taken in this thesis does not homogenize the
participant population, but explicitly disaggregates different social groups to draw out the
dynamics of power, exclusion, and exploitation that contribute to vulnerabilities in food
systems. Furthermore, to understand the underpinnings of poverty and food insecurity in
the study site, the current oil palm boom in Guatemala is examined within the broader
history of cash crops in the country (Chapter 3). The implications of the expansion of this
global commodity crop in and around the Lachuá Ecoregion are explained in relation to the
history of rural development policies that have been instrumental in marginalizing
indigenous populations and the rural poor in general. The current characteristics and
configurations of the local food system are thereby positioned as products of political
mandates, social change, and the globalization of agricultural value chains. Therefore, the
ways in which power operates within the socio-ecological food system at different scales,
the distinction of social groups that are dis/advantaged by the expansion of oil palm (i.e. a
44
change in the system), and the roots of the existing social vulnerabilities are brought to the
centre of the system analysis (Cote and Nightingale 2011).
Lastly, in addressing the problematic implications of SES-based development for the poor
(Watts 2015; Walker and Cooper 2011), resilience in this thesis is not treated as the ‘end
goal’ of development, but rather as a necessary aspect of development. Rather than
overlooking issues of power and the processes producing social vulnerability, the analysis
in the following chapters incorporates, among other factors, the struggles with land tenure
security, labour rights and conditions, socio-economic marginalization of certain groups,
and the subordinate position of local growers within the global oil palm industry. The
results thereby advocate for development approaches that address the sources of
vulnerability and create resilient and equitable pathways forward.
2.7.1 Food security in SEFS
Within the SEFS framework (Figure 2), food security, along with social and environmental
welfare, are described as outcomes of a sustainable and resilient socio-ecological food
system. Borrowing from the FAO formulation, food security in SEFS is comprised of three
main pillars: food utilization, access, and availability, and the stability of these variables
over time (FAO 2008; Ericksen et al. 2010). These pillars are (re)produced through a set of
food system activities pertaining to the production, processing, distribution, and
consumption of food (Allen and Prosperi 2016; Ingram 2011; Ericksen 2008b). The food
system is situated within a larger socio-ecological system and is acted upon by
environmental drivers (e.g. change in land cover, water availability and quality, climate)
and socio-economic drivers (e.g. demographics, socio-political context, economic change),
while generating environmental and socio-economic feedbacks (Ericksen et al 2010).
45
Figure 2: Socio-ecological food system. Modified from Ericksen et al. 2010, originally
in GECAFS 2009.
Following the SEFS schema (Figure 2), the following chapters examine the food system
activities in the study site – that is, how, where, and by whom food is produced, processed,
distributed, and consumed. The changes to the land and labour conditions (Chapter 4),
provisioning of staple foods (Chapter 5), and environmental consequences of land use
change (Chapter 6), brought about by the expanding oil palm are discussed in association
with the pillars of local food security: food availability, access, and utilization. The
introduction and spread of oil palm is linked to processes, conditions, and forces from
within and beyond the study communities, which have altered the ways in which food is
obtained and consumed. Existing and emerging food system vulnerabilities and limitations
to adaptation are then drawn out along with the ways in which they differentially impact
different segments of the local population.
2.7.2 Defining vulnerability and adaptation
The conceptualization of vulnerability in SES studies has remained a widely contested
topic. In earlier SES research, the definition of vulnerability closely followed that of the
preceding risk-hazard research and human ecology, where it was understood in close
46
relation to a particular natural hazard12 for human populations within a geographical
region (Burton et al. 1993). In parallel social research, the definition of vulnerability was
largely derived from Amartya Sen’s entitlement theory. In Sen’s work, vulnerability was
understood as deprivation from entitlements, or loss of command over food through
economic, legal, and/or political means (Sen 1990). Watts and Bohle (1993) expanded the
definition of vulnerability to encompass class relations, situated institutions, and power
relations that shape the uneven ability to hold and exercise entitlements. They
conceptualized vulnerability as a space where deprivation could be driven by economic
relations (especially market relations), powerlessness of certain individuals or groups to
claim and enforce entitlements, or processes of exploitation (Watts and Bohle 1993).
Some scholars maintained that vulnerability studies overemphasized social dimensions
while giving little if any attention to the ecological (Adger 2006; Walker 2005). In later SES
studies that endeavored to better integrate natural and social systems, the vulnerability
concept was refined to encompass the exposure to hazards or shocks/stressors (i.e. contact
with the stressor), sensitivity13 to stress, and coping or adaptive14 capacity (Ericksen
2008b; McCarthy et al. 2001). Stressors, sensitivity, and adaptive capacity, in turn, are
produced through both social and natural conditions and are situated in cultural and
political relations of power that mediate decision making15 (Cote and Nightingale 2011).
12 The hazard is understood as what people are potentially vulnerable to. Vulnerability is therefore closely
tied to the characterization of the hazard or stressor and its expected consequences (Eakin and Luers 2006).
13 As per Adger (2006), sensitivity refers the degree to which social actors or a system is affected by
perturbations.
14 Coping and adaptation are similar concepts, although coping typically refers to the reactive, short-term
management of a stress. Adaptation usually refers to long-term, proactive measures to ensure food security in the foreseeable future. Both coping and adaptation imply more than just access to resources, but also the existence of effective resource management strategies and the ability to organize and deploy these strategies (Ericksen 2008b; Eakin 2005; Barrett and Carter 2000).
15 It is worth noting that even though the conceptualization of vulnerability has been fairly well developed in
academic literature, anti-poverty programmes on the ground have tended to obscure and over-simplify its meaning, often using ‘vulnerability’ synonymously with ‘poverty’ (Chambers 2006).
47
Following Ericksen (2008b), Adger (2006), and Chambers (2006), vulnerability in this
thesis refers to susceptibility to harm (e.g. food gaps) and encompasses two dimensions: (1)
heightened exposure to risks, shocks, or stresses; and (2) difficulty in dealing with shocks
and stresses (see Table 2). In this conceptualization, powerlessness to shield from shocks
and manage stresses emerges as a key aspect of vulnerability (Chambers 2006),
particularly in producing inequity in food access (Dreze and Sen 1989; Cote and
Nightingale 2011). Following Watts and Bohle (1993), the vulnerability of particular
individuals or groups can also be traced back to their social standing with respect to
market relations, political and institutional relations of power, and the structural-historical
configuration of class relations.
Table 2: Terms used in this thesis.
Term Definition Vulnerability In food systems, vulnerability is the state or characteristic of the
system that results in failure to deliver food security for all members of the population (Ericksen 2008a). Specifically, it is the state/characteristic that renders at least some food system actors susceptible to harm due to 1) heightened exposure to risks, shocks, or stresses; and 2) difficulty in dealing with shocks and stresses (Ericksen 2008b; Adger 2006; Chambers 2006).
Sensitivity to shock/stress/perturbation
The degree to which a system and the actors in it are affected by a perturbation (Adger 2006).
Adaptation Implementation of proactive measures to ensure long-term food security (Ericksen 2008b; Barrett and Carter 2008; Eakin 2005).
Coping Short-term management of a shock/stress (Ericksen 2008b; Barrett and Carter 2008; Eakin 2005).
Resilience Good outcomes despite high risks, sustained competence under conditions of threat and recovery from shocks and stresses (Boyden and Cooper 2007).
The sensitivity and adaptive capacity depend heavily upon the inherent characteristics of
the food system, and not only on the type or intensity of the shock (Eakin et al. 2007; Ford
et al. 2006). Endowments (i.e. physical, social, or other assets) and entitlements to use
them tend to be the key factors determining the capability to cope and/or adapt to
stressors, particularly on a household scale. However, no less important are the social,
political, and class dynamics as they not only enable or disable action (Eakin et al. 2007;
48
Bohle 2001), but also determine (a) how endowments and entitlements are distributed and
(b) how and by whom the management practices are shaped (Cote and Nightingale 2011).
Giving close attention to the uneven distribution of entitlements, the thesis culminates with
an analysis of food system vulnerability and adaptation options, as they have been and
continue to be molded by oil palm expansion. The analysis highlights the limitations of
existing coping/adaptation strategies and vulnerabilities that have deep historical roots
and are subject to mounting environmental and market pressures at different scales.
Resource and knowledge constraints, along with institutional weaknesses and limited
decision-making power are shown to exacerbate local inequalities and impediments to
food access.
2.7.3 Study region
The Lachuá Ecoregion is situated in the north of the Alta Verapaz province in Guatemala,
also forming a part of the Franja Transversal del Norte (Northern Transversal Strip). The
Franja is a resource-rich region containing much of the country’s reserves of petroleum,
minerals, wood, and lands fit for lowland crops such as melons, rubber, and oil palm
(SEGEPLAN 2011). In the 1960s-70s it was targeted as a key frontier territory for the
development of agro-exports and other extractivist activities (Grandia 2012). In the 1970s,
a highway was built along the Franja next to a 235 kilometre-long oil pipeline to increase
access and solidify control over the region (Grandia 2006).
The Franja was fraught with conflict during the civil war, and was the setting of many
government-sponsored massacres of indigenous Mayan communities through the 1970s-
80s (Ybarra 2010). Military officers staked claims to vast expanses of land, so much so that
the Franja became known as the ‘General’s strip’. In Lachuá, military officers claimed
thousands of hectares of land, particularly near petroleum wells and along the highway
(Grandia 2012; Solano 2000). Land conflicts did not cease after the signing of the peace
accords in 1996, as demand for land continued to grow with increasing population,
encroachment of cattle ranch pastures and monoculture plantations, and expanded
petroleum exploration. Oil palm cultivation was initiated in the region in the late 1990s by
large agribusinesses, including Olmeca and Palmas del Ixcán, and later, promoted to
49
farmers through ProRural/ProPalma. Much of the land in the Franja remains contested
with many civil war survivors residing on land without, or with legally insecure, land titles
(Granovsky-Larsen 2013; Ybarra 2010).
The Lachuá Ecoregion consists of the Laguna Lachuá National Park and its buffer zone,
together encompassing 51,608 ha. The national park was initially founded in 1976, and
officially recognized as a protected area and biodiversity refuge in 1996 (Avendaño et al.
2005). In 2006, the park and part of its buffer zone were also designated as a protected
wetland of international significance under the Ramsar Convention, being an important
habitat and biodiversity centre (Ramsar 2014). Despite the protection efforts and treaties,
the Lachuá Ecoregion lost about 4,895ha of forest between 2000 and 2010 to land clearing
for subsistence agriculture, cattle pastures, and commercial agriculture (REDD desk 2018).
The warm climate (annual temperature ranging between 25°C and 28°C) and plentiful rain
(~3000mm/yr) makes the region ideal for oil palm cultivation (Granados-Dieseldorff et al.
2012), which has been an important driver of land use change in recent years.
The buffer zone is home to approximately 50 villages populated almost entirely by
indigenous Q’eqchi’ Maya. Many households are engaged in subsistence farming, often in
combination with wage labour on neighbouring agricultural fields and other enterprises.
Some also engage in subsistence hunting and fishing in the region’s remnant forests and
waterways (Quezada et al. 2014).
The Alta Verapaz province, where Lachuá is located, has the highest proportion of
indigenous Maya residents of all other provinces in the country. Over 80% of the
province’s population is indigenous, 79% being Q’eqchi’, with only 10% non-indigenous
residents (INE 2014). Alta Verapaz also has the highest rate of extreme poverty in the
country (37.7%) and the lowest literacy rate (60.2%) (INE 2014). Similarly, the Lachuá
region is characterized by a very low standard of living, low education and literacy rates,
and lack of access to basic services, including sanitation and healthcare facilities for many
households.
50
2.7.4 Participant communities
Research was mainly conducted in two neighbouring communities – hereafter referred to
as Palm Village and Maize Village. At the time of the survey, Palm Village had
approximately 95 households while Maize Village had about 140. The village centres are
located approximately 5km apart, however, some agricultural parcels belonging to
members of Maize and Palm Villages directly border each other. Both villages also border
the Laguna Lachuá National Park and are close to a major road. Land use in Palm Village is
dominated by oil palm cultivation by farmers working under contract with Palmas del
Ixcán – a large agribusiness that owns thousands of hectares of oil palm plantations in and
around the Lachuá Ecoregion. Farming on owned or rented plots, most households
cultivate staple maize for consumption, selling any surpluses that they may produce.
Remaining land is occupied by other cash crops (mainly rubber), and forest remnants –
although considerable deforestation has taken place over the last 10 years. Agriculture in
the region and land use changes are further discussed in Chapter 4.
Both communities were set up as ‘model villages’ during the civil war, which allowed for
easier surveillance and control over the rural population (Taylor 2007). In the ‘model
villages’, houses are conglomerated in the village centres, along with local stores, churches,
and other amenities, while crop fields are dispersed on the outskirts of the villages. In
some cases, farmers have to walk more than a kilometre from their house to reach their
crop field, sometimes having to cross fields that belong to other villagers. Model villages
have a dark history in Guatemala. Some villages were re-constructed in this fashion
following previous destruction of villages by the military. Army officers would then
demand that all houses be built in close proximity to one another. Villagers would be
closely watched through conscripted civil patrols, paid informants or ‘spies’, and periodic
visits from military officials. The end goal was to exert a high level of social control, by
means of surveillance, peasant ‘re-education’ campaigns16, intimidation, detention, and
forms of violence ranging to the most extreme (Manz 2004).
16 Some accounts state that the military used torture and other techniques to rid the people of ‘communist’
ideas (Manz 2004).
51
The initial establishment of Palm and Maize villages in the 1980s inevitably played a
formative role in setting up dynamics of power, distributing endowments among the
founding community members, rousing social tensions, and defining the characteristics of
the current food system. The extent to which the villages’ specific histories defined their
subsequent development is unclear due to a lack of formal records and the unwillingness of
residents to speak about this sensitive subject. For many participants, the prospect of
being ‘watched’ by outside researchers may have been met with apprehension, even if it
was not expressed. It is therefore important to recognize that the researcher’s
observations are also influenced by the participants’ reactions to the research process,
which are inevitably coloured by the region’s history and individual experiences. It is also
important to recognize that violence and militarization of the region during the 1980s is
likely an important (if insufficiently explored) factor contributing to food system
vulnerability.
2.7.5 Data collection methods
The research design and data collection was intended to capture a large set of variables
relevant to understanding food system characteristics, functions, and outcomes for
different groups in the villages. However, the main sample is limited to two communities
situated in a particular location. In principle, this study follows an intensive research
approach, where the aim is to understand place-specific processes, changes, and
participant behaviour, while context plays an important explanatory role (Sayer 2010). In
keeping with the situated SEFS framework, research participants were observed concretely
within their specific environment and socio-political circumstances (as opposed to using
statistical indicators). However, the study is not ethnographic. While the data collection
methods – consisting of a household survey in Palm and Maize Villages, a series of formal
(in-depth) and informal (shorter) interviews, three community workshops, and a short
survey of four local store owners (two in each community) – allowed for considerable
depth in engagement with participants, it was not an immersive experience as is typical of
ethnographic studies (Fine 1993).
The chosen approach (i.e. survey instead of ethnography) entails that results are limited in
detail and familiarity with social and cultural nuances, for instance, understanding how
52
participants ascribe meaning to certain occurrences, circumstances, or particular aspects of
their lives, including intra-community dynamics. Nevertheless, the survey was strategic in
capturing a large number of socio-economic and ecological variables that the SEFS
framework calls into consideration. The complementary use of semi-structured interviews,
community workshops, and secondary sources allowed for a deeper engagement with the
historical and political dimensions of vulnerability.
Researcher bias as well as positionality and social status (i.e. power and privilege) of the
research team are other important limitations of the study, as they may have influenced
participant responses, translation, and interpretation of the responses. It is important to
recognize the history of violence and military surveillance in the region (see section 2.7.4
above), which has likely shaped the respondents’ attitudes towards outside researchers
and influenced responses. Some participants may have been wary of engaging with
researchers and/or strategic in the portrayal of their experiences and relationships with
their neighbours (for instance, participants generally refrained from openly talking about
conflicts with their neighbours in the village). Furthermore, the cultural and experiential
disconnect between the researcher and the participants has likely produced gaps of
understanding and introduced bias into the analysis.
While members of the research team were trained in the ethical procedures (including but
not limited to free and informed consent and withdrawal, anonymity, protection of data,
and sensitivity to the respondents), the existing relationship between interviewees and
local translators as well as the perception of the participants regarding foreign researchers
may have shaped responses. Gender relations, class, age, race, indigenousness/non-
indigenousness, and education are some of the factors that may have played a role in
forming certain perceptions, creating pressure, and inducing trust/distrust, despite the
researchers’17 efforts to foster inclusivity and receptiveness. Despite the constraints that it
entailed, working with locals proved necessary for procuring access to the communities,
17 For instance, both male and female research assistants and translators participated in the in-person survey
distribution.
53
and overall advantageous in building a positive relationship with the respondents, who are
not always open to foreigners and researchers.
The strength of the methodology lies in the possibility of incorporating a large array of
social, economic, and environmental variables, as well as including a variety of perspectives
including those of very poor and disadvantaged households and relatively well-off oil palm
growers. The data collection strategy therefore reflects the aims of the SEFS framework,
which seeks to capture a broad set of social and ecological processes leading to differential
outcomes of food security for different participant subgroups, including a desire to situate
these dynamics in the local political, economic, and social contexts. To these ends, I
deployed a mix-methods data collection strategy that entailed, semi-structured interviews,
a household survey, community workshops, a store owner survey, and land use data from
Google Earth and aerial photographs.
Semi-structured interviews18 were conducted throughout 2014 and 2015. I conducted
interviews with a variety of relevant actors, including local leaders (multiple interviews on
different occasions with four male leaders from Maize Village and two from Palm Village),
three oil palm growers (male) in Palm Village, day labourers from oil palm farms (4
informal interviews with male workers in Palm Village), male and female residents and
leaders from other communities in Lachuá, two male national park employees, two officials
(male and female) from the Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources (MARN-
Ministerio de Ambiente y Recursos Naturales), four representatives of local NGOs (male
and female), and one (female) representative of the Guatemalan Union of Oil Palm Growers
(GREPALMA – Gremial de Palmicultores de Guatemala). (See Appendix A for a list of
interviews conducted).
Household survey: the household survey was carried out in October-November 2015, with
help from two student research assistants from University of San Carlos in Guatemala City
(one male, one female) and three local translators (two male and one female). The survey
18 Prior to the survey, consultations were carried out with local authorities of Community Development
Councils known as COCODEs (Consejos Communitarios de Desarrollo)
54
was administered in person, and covered topics including household demographics and
characteristics including work, income, crop cultivation, land transactions, sources of food
and household necessities, changes in food access and consumption, environmental
changes, water access, and impacts of oil palm on the community. Many survey questions
were open-ended, inviting the interviewee to elaborate on and explain their experiences.
See Appendix G for the household survey guide.
A sample of 42 households was selected in Palm Village, and 40 households in Maize
Village. Sampling was stratified by geographic location, where a random set of 4-5
households was picked in different parts of the community. In 19 households, the survey
respondents were male heads of the households, while in the majority of cases (n=46)
respondents were female. In 17 cases, both male and female heads of the households, and
sometimes other household members, were present at various parts of the survey. Some
households had more than one member working as wage labourers on an oil palm farm, or
having had previously worked on an oil palm farm. In these cases, where possible, a part of
the survey was disaggregated to include different opinions from different oil palm workers.
Community workshops: Three community workshops were conducted throughout 2014
and 2015, in partnership with students and professors from the University of San Carlos.
All of the workshops were conducted in Maize Village, although participants from other
communities in Lachuá, including Palm Village, were also invited. The format of the
workshops was fluid and semi-formal, with some participants joining late and/or leaving
early. Workshop topics were variable, and not exclusively oil palm related. The objectives
of the workshops were to establish a positive relationship with local communities, to
conduct exploratory research (e.g. to understand the main issues and pressing concerns of
communities in the region), to solicit feedback and suggestions on proposed research
projects, and to answer questions and share preliminary results. Two of the workshops
had attendance of 15-30 people (evenly mixed male and female) at a given point of the
workshop. One of the workshops had predominantly female attendance, with many small
children. All of the participants were invited to share their thoughts, although males
tended to be more forward with their opinions, while females generally observed. A
separate workshop on food and nutrition was conducted by researchers from San Carlos
55
University in 2015, with some of the results of this workshop shared in this thesis (Chapter
7). See Appendix B for a description of the community workshops.
Store owner survey: Conducted in December 2015. Two storeowners in each community
(Maize Village and Palm Village) were asked a series of questions about food and product
procurement and sales. See Appendix C for the store owner survey guide. Data from store
owner interviews were utilized in chapters 5 and 7 to analyze the trends in food
availability and diet.
Supplementary land use data was obtained from Google Earth and aerial photographs, not
shown in this thesis to preserve anonymity of the participant communities.
2.7.6 Data Analysis and Limitations
Both qualitative and quantitative analyses were conducted. Survey data was analysed
using Microsoft Excel and R statistical software (R Core Team, 2016), to explore and
compare the food system attributes and outcomes for the two communities and sub-
populations within them (for instance, households that depend on oil palm plantation
employment and those who do not). Following exploratory analysis and diagnostic tests
and correlation analysis, comparisons of means were performed using the Student’s t-test,
and the Kruskal-Wallis non-parametric test where it was not possible to assume normality
of the variable distribution – for instance, household employment income (Pohlert 2014).
Both, Student’s t and Kruskal-Wallis tests, assume independence of observations, which is
difficult to ascertain in this study due to the close geographic proximity and of the
participant households and study communities. Therefore, statistical test results presented
here should be interpreted with caution. Correlation analysis was used to investigate the
relationships between different farming cost factors and per-unit maze production cost to
understand the relationship between oil palm expansion and maize farming.
Representation and generalizability are among the key limitations of the study methods.
The household survey sample is considered to be statistically representative of the
population in the two individual communities at a 95% confidence level and a 13% margin
of error (Mendenhall et al. 2006). Overall, the collected data is constrained by its context,
sample size and diversity. Intra-household diversity or the social complexities of the
56
studied communities are not adequately reflected in the data. The survey statistics are also
not intended for extrapolation to the region as a whole, but rather to explore the
community-specific processes leading to the observed outcomes of the oil palm expansion.
Furthermore, the study villages have a different social, economic, and environmental
histories than even other villages within the same ecoregion, implying limitations as to how
the study results can be applied beyond the communities studied (Sayer 2010). Some
elements of the food system are nonetheless common and/or apply to the regional scale
and beyond, thus warranting consideration in other Guatemalan contexts. Examples
include processes of exclusion from employment, precarization of labour (Chapter 4), and
environmental degradation (Chapter 6), which have already been observed as outcomes of
oil palm expansion in other parts of Guatemala.
As discussed above, some of the earlier applications of SES failed to adequately
conceptualize agency, and to capture social dynamics and politics of power and inequality –
concerns that are of central importance in political ecology and other social sciences (Foran
et al. 2014). With the situated SEFS approach, qualitative analysis of interviews and
workshops was instrumental not only for contextualizing survey results, but also for
understanding inter and intra community dynamics and power relations, and for
identifying causal processes of vulnerability (c.f. Sayer 2010). However, further research,
including the use of more ethnographic methods, would be needed to expand the depth,
detail, and explanatory power of the results. For instance, more intensive qualitative
research would help to explore questions regarding the individual experience of oil palm
workers, household dynamics, social conflicts, and gendered differences within the food
system (Sayer 2010).
At the same time, expanding the analytical scope to include more scientific methods (e.g.
climate, soil and water quality analysis, biodiversity studies, etc.) would strengthen the
analysis of ecological piece of the socio-ecological food system, including the implications
of the neighbouring protected area. This thesis is intended as a stepping stone for further
ecological research, as it identifies some of the key environmental concerns that are
currently impacting the food system.
57
2.7.7 Contribution to SEFS
Among the main criticisms of the SES framework – or SEFS in food system studies - have
been its difficulty in application due to the volume and diversity of data required to
conduct a full system analysis, as well as the complexity of the analysis itself (Stojanovic et
al. 2016). More active case study application of the framework has been identified as a
critical part of moving SEFS research forward (Ericksen 2008b). Case study application is
particularly important for developing ways to address the causes of social vulnerability and
steer the framework’s development away from flat and apolitical conceptualizations of
food systems, towards a more socially, politically, and historically grounded research.
By demonstrating its practical application to multi-variable food system analysis, this study
is aims to move the SEFS framework beyond conceptualization towards the active
development of policy prescriptions. To date, policy application of SES/SEFS has been
limited and/or problematic (c.f. Walker and Cooper 2011). The adaptive co-management
governance model is one of the few notable example of SES thinking in resource
management (Armitage et al. 2008). This decentralized model, which emphasizes power-
sharing, knowledge co-creation, and learning, among other features, has found its way into
policy forums, though examples of on-the-ground implementation have been few, small-
scale, and with various rates of success (Plummer et al. 2017, 2012; Foran et al. 2014).
Case studies have been instrumental in identifying problems with adaptive co-
management, including insufficient consideration for underlying power relations and social
conflicts that problematize the prospect of ‘collaboration’ prescribed by the model (c.f.
Gondo 2011). This study advocates for the development of a situated SES/SEFS approach
that integrates the aspects of social vulnerability, particularly when confronting issues
entailing significant ecological and/or other livelihood repercussions (Allen and Prosperi
2016; Foran et al. 2014).
2.8 Synthesis
This chapter outlined the historical origins of the food security concept as it appeared in
and shaped the mainstream development discourse. The above overview illustrated the
changing role of cash crops within international agendas for rural development and food
58
security, culminating with the recent push for the integration of smallholder cash crop
producers into global production chains through programs like Guatemala’s ProRural.
Along with problematizing market-based (particularly cash-crop-based) approaches to
strengthening food security, the purpose of the above account was to demonstrate some of
the limitations of food security as a framework, with the socio-ecological food systems
(SEFS) framework proposed as an alternative. Though it has its own limitations, it was
argued here that situated SEFS is better suited for incorporating ecological aspects and
scalar dynamics of food provisioning into food security analysis, which are particularly
important in the case of the global commodity crop (oil palm) expansion in the socially,
economically, and ecologically vulnerable setting of Lachuá. The following chapter lays out
the historical context of oil palm cultivation in Guatemala, linking it to the broader
development and food security discourse, and revealing the roots of vulnerability in the
study region.
59
Chapter 3
Literature Review: Cash Crops in Guatemala
Guatemala has historically been a targeted site for export crop development. From the
time of the Spanish conquest in the 1500s, the political economy of export agriculture in
Guatemala has taken many forms, culminating in what Alonso-Fradejas (2015) calls
financialized and flexible agrarian extractivism. This chapter outlines the history of cash
crop production in Guatemala from early ‘traditional’ exports to the emerging
contemporary agrarian extractivist regime. Unlike previous eras of agrarian development,
the new regime is exceedingly driven by financial actors taking advantage of ‘flexible’
narratives19 and reconfiguring labour relations to further de-value rural labour. The
chapter concludes with an overview of contemporary oil palm boom in Guatemala and its
influence on rural development and food security.
3.1 From conquest to export capitalism
Guatemala has long been recognized as a birthplace of agriculture. Some 8,000 years ago,
the Mayans that inhabited the Mesoamerican region domesticated endemic plant species to
develop an array of crops of modern significance, most notably cotton and maize (Vavilov
1992). While the many questions and debates remain about the nature of the social
relations and agricultural practices of the pre-Columbian Maya, researchers have shown
the pre-conquest agriculture was rich in diversity and complexity. For instance, Teran and
Rasmussen (1994) described a highly productive and genetically diverse milpa system in
pre-Columbian Yucatan, which was upheld by communal land ownership and support from
the ruling class. Other accounts spoke of gardens across the Mayan Mesoamerica, where
cultivation of maize, beans, chillies, spices, and squash was common in extensive orchards
and in household gardens. The overarching consensus is that the Mayan civilization had
19 As further explained in section 3.5, discursive flexibility is particular to flex crops such as oil palm.
Hunsberger and Alonso-Fradejas (2016) argue that flex crops can be woven into multiple legitimizing discourses, which gives their proponents leverage to maneuver through regulatory constraints, and stifle social opposition.
60
well-developed agricultural technologies and management practices well before
colonization (Whitmore and Turner II 1992; Gutierrez and Fust 2011). While milpa
agriculture is still widely prevalent in Mesoamerica and continues to serve as a cornerstone
of rural livelihoods in the country, its contemporary relevance was undoubtedly shaped by
the forced insertion of Mayans into the global food economy by colonial powers.
The Spanish conquest of (what is now) Guatemala began in the 1520s, with two decades of
plunder, turmoil, and disease brought by the conquistadors in search of elusive – and, in
some cases, not so elusive – riches (Grandin 2000). By the 1530s, the Spanish had
established control over many territories from Chiapas to Belize, though their success with
subduing the Q’eqchi’20 Mayans had been initially limited (Grandia 2012). In the 1540s, the
Spaniards began using religious conversion of the Q’eqchi’s by Dominican priests as an
alternative means of conquest (Todorov 1984). Although this method was deemed
‘peaceful’ by its proponents, it incorporated forceful resettlement of native peoples and
transformation of the Q’eqchi’ economy to fund the church coffers (Grandia 2012).
Through the decades that followed, religious conversion continued to play a central role in
breaking indigenous identity and shaping agrarian change in Guatemala. Reconfiguration
of Mayan settlements by the Dominicans and the introduction of coffee to the region by the
Jesuits in the 1700s, are examples of the earlier influences of Christian sects in Guatemala
(Grandia 2012). Christian religions maintained a powerful social and political presence in
the country, and to this day remain a strong yet divisive aspect of Guatemalans’ ethnic
identities (Althoff 2017).
During the colonial period (the 1520s to independence from Spain in 1821), the Spaniards
expropriated large swathes of land from the indigenous population, and coerced the
natives into working on large privately owned estates (haciendas) (McCreery 1994).
Haciendas were owned by the Spanish elite, producing export crops such as cacao, sugar,
20 There were many Mayan ethnic groups in Guatemala including Q’eqchi’ (which remain prominent in the
northern lowlands), Itzá, Pocomchi’, Kaqchikel, K’iche’, Mam, Ixil, and others.
61
cotton, and indigo and cochineal dyes21 (Wagner et al. 2001; Jonas 1991). Cheap labour
was essential for the colonial extractivist economy, which was already strained by trade
restrictions and high transport costs to Europe. In the 1601, a repartimiento system was
formally established to address the issue of hacienda labour shortages, whereby indigenous
towns were forced to provide a determined number of workers during certain parts of the
year (Gudmundson and Lindo-Fuentes 1995). Black slaves were also used on haciendas
and in other occupations up until shortly after independence. However, their use was
limited due to high costs of bringing them from abroad as well as fears of revolt (McCreery
1994). The drafted repartimiento workers therefore remained the single most important
source of agricultural labour in the colonial period.
Following Guatemala’s independence from Spain in 1821, the liberal elite sought to
restructure the economy, giving rise to export-based capitalism. Their liberal elite saw
building of transport infrastructure – particularly railways and ports, as a key to progress
(Colby 2006). Furthermore, they began promoting the cultivation of a globally traded
commodity – coffee. While efforts to diversify commercial agriculture also took place –
such as a 1932 decree to exempt previously uncultivated fruits, indigo, cotton, and
achiote22 from taxes – coffee quickly seized the focus of agricultural elites (Wagner et al.
2001). In the latter half of the 19th century, the Guatemalan agricultural sector was
characterized by massive foreign investment into coffee plantations, solicited by the
government through large land grants to foreigners, elimination of export taxes on coffee,
and enforcement of exploitative labour laws – which were key to the success of these
labour-intensive enterprises (Campbell 2003). The system favoured the influx of European
farmers by giving them access to prime farmland, while sidelining the native population to
forced labour and marginal-quality farmland (if any). Thousands of hectares of land that
were earmarked for private investors were confiscated lands from indigenous
communities that did not have secure land titles (Grandia 2012; Comisión de Apoyo 2002).
21 Cochineal and indigo were the principal export products up until the early 1800s, followed by cacao and
cotton (Wagner et al. 2001)
22 A shrub grown for its orange-red seeds used to make food colouring.
62
During this time, part of the indigenous population was forced to move to less fertile land
to continue subsistence farming (von Braun et al. 1989). The rest was effectively converted
into a feudal labour force, with over 40% of the population living on coffee plantations
(King 1974). The predominant labour regime was that of debt peonage, where the
plantation owners paid wages that were so low that the workers were kept in permanent
debt (Grandia 2012). The regime was enforced by government mandates such as a law
requiring an employer to ask for all potential employees to present a note stating that they
had no outstanding debts (Cambranes 1985). The fact that plantations were reliant on
cheap labour was well-understood, and as such, the extreme exploitation of labour was
accepted as a keystone of export-based capitalism (Grandia 2012).
The liberal government’s ambitious and costly railway projects that were intended to
connect major coffee producing regions with ports and urban centers culminated at the
end of the 19th century, with the collapse of world coffee prices (Colby 2006). In order to
complete the Northern Railroad connecting Guatemala City to the western coffee lands and
Puerto Barrios on the Carribean coast, the liberal dictator Estrada Cabrera solicited
investment from the United Fruit Company in exchange for a 99-year lease on 168,000
acres of land along the rail route (Colby 2006). United Fruit, which already held vast land
holdings throughout Central America and the Caribbean, established banana plantations on
the concession lands, adding Guatemala to its growing list of ‘banana republics’ (Bucheli
2008).
Cabrera was succeeded by a series of short-term leaders, until the infamous dictatorship of
Jorge Ubico took hold in 1931. Ubico was a strong supporter of US elites, including the
United Fruit Company, as well as a staunch anti-communist. His labour policies were thus
aimed at maintaining a steady supply of workers for labour-intensive plantations, and
suppressing any kind of actions concerning labour rights (Bucheli 2008). His initiatives
included a 1934 vagrancy law that required those who owned less than 2.8 hectares of land
to work 100-150 days as wage labourers (Lovell 1988). He also legalized the physical
punishment and even murder of ‘rebellious Indians’ by landowners (Bucheli 2008).
Alongside indigenous Mayan workers, migrant labour from the West Indies, Jamaica, and
Barbados became prevalent in the banana plantations of the labour-scarce north coast
63
(Colby 2006). The division of roles (e.g. managerial vs. heavy labour), payment systems,
and even medical care on United Fruit plantations was extremely racialized. Plantation
managers, who were predominantly white and ladino23, were paid monthly salaries and
enjoyed easy access to hospital care. Indigenous Mayan, West Indian, and black migrant
workers performed heavy manual labour for which they were paid per task, and often
endured severe violence from their employers and managers (Colby 2006). Racial
discrimination and violence was deeply engrained in social institutions, and was readily
taken advantage of by United Fruit and other agri-businesses as a means of controlling
their labour force.
3.2 Democratic reforms
In the 1940s, the paradigm shifted with the first democratically elected presidents: Arévalo
(1945-1951) and Árbenz (1951-1954). The fall of the Ubico dictatorship was followed by
radical constitutional reforms, which, among other things, criminalized racial
discrimination, legalized labour unions, established a 40-hour work week, and banned
private monopolies (Bucheli 2008). For the most part, however, these provisions did not
have enough reach to improve peasant rights in the countryside.
After succeeding Arévalo, Jacobo Árbenz instituted the Agrarian Reform Law, which
effectively abolished debt slavery and gave the government the power to expropriate idle
land from large plantations and other foreign estate lands. The government distributed the
land to the landless families, many of whom were former plantation employees (Brockett
1998). Árbenz’ reforms also included a large expropriation of land from the United Fruit
Company, which at the time was the biggest employer, landowner and exporter in
Guatemala thanks partly to a 1924 government grant of 188,399 hectares of fertile land
(Wittman and Saldívar 2006; Thiesenhusen 1995). This sparked a conflict between the
government and United Fruit, which at the time had strong ties with the political elite in the
United States. In particular, United Fruit was connected to John and Allen Dulles, who
were, respectively, the US Secretary of State and Director of the Central Intelligence Agency
23 Mixed race between the Mayan natives and the Spanish
64
under President Dwight Eisenhower and had previously conducted legal work for the
United Fruit Company. The U.S. undersecretary of State, Walter Bedell Smith, would later
become the CEO of the Company (Schlesinger and Kinzer 1999). In consequence, Árbenz
was quickly overthrown in a CIA-orchestrated coup, under the justification of protecting
U.S. corporate interests and warding off ‘communist threat’ (Wittman and Saldívar 2006).
Following the coup, many of Árbenz’ reforms were nullified (Bucheli 2008). About 80% of
the beneficiaries of Árbenz’ land reform either fled or were turned back into plantation
workers by the newly instated military regime (Grandia 2012). Some 8,000 peasants were
murdered in the process of returning the land (Jonas 1991).
3.3 Government-led developmentalism
The ever-widening social inequalities following the coup provoked a long and bloody civil
war, with one military dictatorship getting replaced by the next – all intent on quelling
indigenous insurgencies, or even the threat of them, by any means necessary. The three
decades of military dictatorships that followed the 1954 coup were marked by violence and
repression, including hundreds of government-sponsored massacres of Mayan villages and
forced resettlements until the 1980s (Ybarra 2010). During this time, the military
dictators pursued government-led developmentalist policies for agrarian development and
continued rural colonization (Wittman and Saldívar 2006).
In 1956, under the guidance of U.S. advisors, the military government established a new
land policy that reversed some of the distributive efforts of the preceding Árbenz
administration. The new policy, which came to be known as the Rural Development
Program, aimed to boost the export economy via cattle, timber, and cash-crop expansion24,
emphasizing comparative advantage – the basis of the prevalent developmentalist logic of
that time (Grandia 2012). The program included a resettlement plan of thousands of poor
24 U.S. advisors recommended increasing coffee and cotton production, as well as diversifying to other export
crops – mainly rubber and cacao (Streeter 1999).
65
farmers to ‘agricultural development zones’25, creation of technical aid programs, and
building of infrastructure including roads, irrigation, housing, health facilities, and schools
(Pearson 1963). Despite being labeled a great success by the U.S. and International
Development Services26 in tackling the peasant landlessness problem, the Rural
Development Program benefitted only 5,265 families in seven years, most of whom were
relatively well-off ladinos27. The newly-established technical aid agency – Servicio
Cooperative Interamericano de Agricultura (SCIDA) – was also directed primarily towards
ladino farmers to assist with seed, fertilizer, pesticide and farm machinery (Streeter 1999).
Likewise, government loans funnelled through credit agencies such as Banco del Agro were
mostly reserved for well-off cash crop farmers, with total loans granted to maize and bean
farmers amounting to a meagre 2% (Streeter 1999). In all, the post-coup developmentalist
project endeavoured to turn indigenous peasants away from subsistence farming, which
was deemed ‘primitive’ by the U.S. advisors, and retain them as a cheap agrarian labour
force.
Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the government continued to maintain the interests of
the agro-export elite and pursued economic development in targeted frontier territories,
including the Pacific coast and the Franja Transversal del Norte (Northern Transversal
Strip), both as a means to expand extractivist activities and to solidify control over these
regions (Grandia 2012). The National Institute of Agrarian Transformation (INTA) was one
of the bureaucratic instruments of this new wave of colonization. Throughout the late
1950s and 1960s, INTA sold over 600,000 hectares of government-owned land to private
owners. Although landless rural families were eligible to obtain land through the program,
25 ‘Agricultural development zones’ were established on lands donated by the United Fruit Company, on
state-owned farms, or privately-purchased lands. This initiative was largely motivated by the U.S. officials’ fear of more social strife and communist uprising (Streeter 1999).
26 International Development Services (IDS) was a non-profit consulting firm that was hired by the U.S. state
department to lead agrarian development in Guatemala. IDS activities were funded mainly by the International Cooperation Administration (ICA) – a U.S. government agency responsible for distributing foreign aid between 1955 and 1961 (Streeter 1999).
27 By comparison, Arbenz’ agrarian reform benefitted more than 500,000 people in less than two years
(Berger 1992).
66
the main beneficiaries had been a handful of large landowners who acquired large
extensions of prime agricultural land (Hough et al. 1982). INTA also facilitated many land
claims for military officers, particularly in the resource-rich Franja region (Brockett 1998).
The rural poor mainly received small plots of land for subsistence purposes, and at that,
with many restrictions such having to pay off their land debt in 10 years, not being able to
sell the land for 10 years or more, and not being issued a definitive title to the land (only a
provisional title) until the debt was completely paid off (Lastarria-Cornhiel 2003). In some
cases INTA issued land to Q’eqchi communities under a common title. However, the
bureaucratic process, particularly with respect to Q’eqchi individual and community
claims, was highly inconsistent, confusing, slow, and constantly changing. Q’eqchi’
claimants were highly vulnerable to (perhaps purposeful) record discrepancies and
corruption of INTA agents (Grandia 2012). As a result, many small landholders were
discouraged by the lengthy and burdensome titling process and eventually sold their land
via the informal economy, sometimes for a fraction of its value (Grandia 2012; Solano
2000).
3.4 Neoliberal restructuring
The transition towards neoliberalism and corporate capitalism in the agrarian sector in
Guatemala was part of the longer trajectory that began in the 1950s. By the 1980s, the
Guatemalan government had run up considerable foreign debt, which it was unable to
resolve on its own (Conroy et al. 1996). It then turned to international financial
institutions and foreign aid to rectify its growing deficit. In exchange for loans, the World
Bank and the Inter-American Development Bank imposed a set of structural adjustment
policies to open up land markets, liberalize trade, and promote corporate investment
(Wittman and Saldívar 2006; Hansen-Kuhn 1993). Together with USAID, international
lenders pushed for the cultivation and export of non-traditional crops (NTX) including
winter vegetables (e.g. snow peas and broccoli), melons, tropical fruits, and spices (e.g.
cardamom, mace, and nutmeg) (Isakson 2014).
NTX crops in the Guatemalan case refer to crops that were not previously produced in the
country for export (e.g. tropical fruits, vegetables, etc.). One distinction between NTX and
traditional exports is that many NTX crops were explicitly promoted to smallholder
67
farmers (von Braun et al. 1989). Secondly, NTX went hand-in-hand with the promotion of
modern farming technologies including synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, and
high-yielding seed varieties. These technologies came to pervade not only NTX farming,
but also farming of subsistence crops, leading to the growing dependence of subsistence
farmers on expensive inputs (Carey 2009). Thirdly, NTX were a part of a wider bundle of
structural adjustment policies aimed at liberalizing agricultural investment and trade and
invoking the comparative advantage logic, which suggests that Guatemala should leverage
its natural endowments and low labour costs to produce high value exports28 (Isakson
2014, Barham et al. 1992).
Efforts to maintain the purported comparative advantage included suppressing efforts to
organize worker unions and promoting privatization of communal lands, as part of a
broader program to subdue any political mobilization by the peasants (Wittman and
Saldívar 2006; Hansen-Kuhn 1993). By the early 1980s, Guatemala had an enormous
landless and sub-subsistence population and no political will to pursue land reforms
(Brockett 1998). Instead, expanding NTX production was conceived as a way to absorb the
surplus low-skilled labour while generating foreign exchange dollars to repay foreign
lenders (Isakson 2014a). The World Bank, along with other international proponents of
NTX, further touted the approach as capable of generating positive socio-economic
spillover effects such as poverty alleviation, improved access to food, and creation of new
opportunities in input industries and processing (World Bank 2007; Thrupp et al. 1995).
This rhetoric mimicked a broader global discourse promoting market-based strategies and
trade liberalization as the path towards pro-poor development (Fairbairn 2010).
Government cut-backs on agricultural technical assistance and credit combined with a
parallel emergence of USAID-funded NTX assistance led many peasant farmers to abandon
(at least partly) their staple crop cultivation and switch to NTX in the 1980s-1990s (Conroy
28 Notably, Green Revolution technologies and NTX cultivation in Guatemala were also presented by proponents as an antithesis to communist ambitions. Thus, the adoption of NTX by peasants was sometimes motivated by the desire not to be perceived as ‘backward’ or ‘communist’ (Carey 2009).
68
et al. 1996). However, not all adopters of NTX fared out well. The farmers’ success was
contingent on a number of factors including their initial economic standing, access to
support, and the timing of their market entry (Carletto et al. 2011). Some of the earlier
adopters of NTX, including the smaller farmers, were able to derive substantial income
gains from NTX, at least in the short term (von Braun and Immink 1994; Immink and
Alarcón 1992). However, with the progressive deterioration of support services and
growing global competition in the 1990s, many NTX producers, particularly those that
were more resource-poor, were driven to abandon NTX and in some cases go back to staple
crop cultivation (Isakson 2009, 2014; Carletto et al. 2011). A panel study found that early
adopters of NTX who took advantage of the NTX boom in the 1980s and subsequently
withdrew from production fared out better in the long run than those who adopted NTX
later and/or stayed in NTX production for an extended time despite the unfavourable
market conditions (Carletto et al. 2011). On a larger scale, the widespread displacement of
staple crops by NTX, has contributed to a growing national dependence on imported
agrochemicals and maize over the last three decades, which had largely negative
consequences for the food security of the rural poor (Isakson 2014).
3.5 New agrarian extractivism?
The 1996 Peace Accords formally ended the civil war in Guatemala. The agreement had a
number of ambitious (official) objectives including implementing programs to facilitate
more equal distribution of land, protect community-owned lands, and recover and
redistribute land previously obtained through corrupt means (Palma Murga 1997). Many
of these proposals were abandoned, with a notable exception of the continued land titling
and cadastal registry efforts (Ybarra 2010). Ultimately, securing land tenure did not do
much to address the underlying causes of peasant vulnerability and instead, formalized the
existing inequalities and uneven power relations29 (Gauster and Isakson 2007). However,
the official government position saw tenure security as a step towards resolving land
29 It has been suggested that land titling can be used as a method of avoiding agrarian reform, and in
Guatemala’s case – institutionalizing the military-led land distribution during the civil war, which was common particularly in the Franja region (Ybarra 2010).
69
conflicts, creating opportunities for farmers through creating loan collateral, and
facilitating more fair, ‘free’, and peaceful land transactions (Deininger 2003; World Bank
1998; c.f. de Soto 2000).
The re-conceptualization of land as a ‘commodity’ and ‘collateral’ was largely a reflection of
the emerging development narrative of the time, which trended further away from state
developmentalism and more towards the development of institutions to facilitate the
efficient functioning of markets. In this vision of rural development, a primary role of the
government is to facilitate the financial inclusion for farmers, mainly through enabling
their access to credit. Farmers, on the other hand, are expected to effectively harness
credit by transforming risks into opportunities and selecting the best inputs and growing
practices given their unique set of goals and endowments (Taylor 2012; Soederberg 2013).
This development model lay in the broader context of the ‘financialization’ of the global
food economy, where agricultural production and food provisioning are increasingly
mediated through financial instruments and logics and oriented towards the generation of
financial profits. (Isakson 2014b; Clapp 2016; c.f. Epstein 2001; Krippner 2011).
The globalization and financialization of agriculture has been distinctly correlated with the
rise of so-called ‘flex crops’. Flex crops are crops with many possible uses including food,
animal feed, fuel, fiber, industrial materials, and others. In having multiple and assertedly
interchangeable demand centers, flex crops are particularly attractive to investors seeking
to mitigate risk while taking advantage of price spikes in booming markets (Borras et al.
2016). Thus, fueled by massive international investments, the land area dedicated to the
cultivation of flex crops has expanded at an unprecedented rate in different parts of the
world. Guatemala, among other developing countries, took up flex crop cultivation –
mainly of sugarcane and oil palm – as part of its rural development strategy (Dürr 2016;
Alonso-Fradejas 2012).
Alonso-Fradejas (2015) suggests that the rise of oil palm and sugarcane in Guatemala
during the 2000s has been a constituent of a new wave of agrarian transformation, which
he terms the flexible and financialized type of agrarian extractivism. Flexibility in this
extractive regime refers to two key aspects: flexibility of the labour regime in flex crop
cultivation, and discursive flexibility of flex crops in global narratives. As I discuss in the
70
following paragraphs, both have been instrumental in de-valuing rural labour, and re-
configuring labour relations towards repression and precarization. At the same time,
financialization of agriculture has worked to disadvantage smallholder flex crop producers
and undermine subsistence farming (c.f. Isakson 2014b). Specifically, the rise of
speculative activity in the agricultural sector and related markets, which is particularly
relevant to investor-driven flex crop booms, has introduced new uncertainties in
agricultural production and exposed farmers, particularly marginalized producers in the
global South, to intensifying processes of dispossession and exploitation (Isakson 2014b;
Spratt 2013). Financialization has also strengthened the position of food retailers in agro-
food supply chains and pushed food produces – particularly small-scale farmers – into a
weaker and more vulnerable position in the global food system and in relation to their
larger competitors (Isakson 2014b).
A key feature of labour flexibility in this regime is ‘functional dualism’, or the coexistence
and complementarity of the subsistence agricultural economy with the commodity-
producing sector. Most peasant households in Guatemala tend to engage in multiple
livelihood activities – often a combination of subsistence farming and wage labour (Isakson
2014; de Janvry and Sadoulet 2011). Following Ellis (1993) peasant households are defined
here as those that derive their livelihoods mainly from agriculture using family labour in
farm production, and constitute units of both production and consumption. Peasants are
only partially integrated into markets, which also tend to be incomplete. This distinguishes
peasants from capitalist family farmers that operate within developed product and input
markets.
Peasant farmers in Lachuá typically lack enough land to be entirely self-sufficient and
thereby become dependent on other sources of income. While some peasants earn income
by selling crafts or running small stores, the vast majority rely on wage labour. At the same
time, because returns from wage labour are so low and uncertain, the peasants/labourers
continue to rely on subsistence farming to fulfill a portion of their consumption needs.
Consequently, like their counterparts throughout the global South, peasant farmers in
Lachuá include both capitalist and non-capitalist activities into their broader livelihood
strategies (c.f. Bryceson et al. 2000; Ellis 2008; Isakson 2009).
71
On a broader scale, this ‘semi-proletarianization’ of peasant livelihoods (Kay 2000) has the
systemic effect of lowering subsistence wages for agricultural labour by factoring out the
value of the worker’s family production on the subsistence plot, thereby reducing the cost
of social reproduction to employers (de Janvry and Garramón 1977; de Janvry 1981). In
this way, the peasant sector remains dependent on the existence of a capitalist sector, while
the capitalist sector, given the co-existence of subsistence farming, underpays its labourers
and generates a higher profit than its competitors that must pay their workers a living
wage. As theorized by de Janvry (1981), this articulation of capitalist and non-capitalist
relations of production can be ‘functional’ for certain trajectories of capitalist development.
The flexibility of the labour regime on Guatemalan oil palm and sugarcane plantations also
draws on the progressive erosion of rural employment opportunities as flex crop
cultivation takes over land that has previously been used for staple crop production. Oil
palm and sugarcane require less labour than traditional staple crops on the same size of
land parcel (Dürr 2017; Alonso-Fradejas 2015). Furthermore, small-scale staple
agriculture has linkages to local small and medium trading and processing sectors, thus
adding more local jobs and keeping a larger share of profits within the region (Dürr 2017).
By eroding rural employment options, flex crop expansion sets up the conditions for
heightened worker exploitation and higher employment uncertainty.
The discursive flexibility specific to flex crops results from the entanglement of these multi-
use crops in global discourses on food security, renewable energy, climate change
mitigation, energy security, and democratization – each encompassing narratives appealing
to common societal interests, while serving corporate objectives (Borras et al 2015;
Levidow et al 2013). Discursive flexibility gives the proponents of flex crops the strategic
ability to choose or switch between multiple legitimizing discourses favouring flex crop
development, allowing them to maneuver through regulatory constraints and social
opposition (Hunsberger and Alonso-Fradejas 2016). This way, flex crops are uniquely
positioned to obfuscate labour issues and stymie resistance, while governments are given
an ethical platform to reduce government intervention in agriculture and favour self-
regulation of flex crops and related markets (O’Laughlin 2008).
72
While functional dualism in itself is not a new phenomenon, in combination with discursive
flexibility, loss of rural employment options, and undermined small-scale and subsistence
farming through financialization, it has facilitated downward pressure on agricultural
wages. The dramatic expansion of flex crops in Guatemala and the entrenchment of these
crops in multiple discourses and complex global commodity supply chains is producing
repressive and hyper-commodified rural labour relations never seen before, with few
alternative livelihood options and little recourse for resistance (Alonso Fradejas 2015).
3.6 The Guatemalan oil palm boom
Oil palm is one of the two major flex crops that have seen unprecedented growth in
Guatemala over the last three decades. Globally, palm oil production has climbed
exponentially since the 1960s. Indonesia and Malaysia have been the leaders in palm oil
production, together accounting for nearly 85% of total global output as of 2018 (USDA
2018). Colombia, Ecuador, and Honduras remained relatively minor producers (less than
100,000 MT) until the 1980s. However their production increased steadily, with Colombia
now producing over 1.5 million MT of palm oil per year, and Ecuador and Honduras
producing 610,000 MT and 580,000 MT respectively. Guatemala – a latecomer to the oil
palm market – production of the flex crop was relatively insignificant until the 1990s, with
its production isolated a small number of farms on the southern coast and piedmont. The
expansion of oil palm in Guatemala over the past three decades has been remarkable. In
less than 25 years it surpassed both Ecuador and Honduras in production volume. Between
2000 and 2016, palm oil production in Guatemala climbed six-fold (USDA 2018). Currently,
Guatemala produces about 740,000 MT of crude palm oil, making it the second-largest
(after Colombia) oil palm producer in Latin America (USDA 2018, see Figure 3).
Considerable debate remains regarding the drivers of the enormous demand growth for
palm oil, especially in recent years. A number of researchers have connected the surge in
demand to growing biofuel markets driven, among other things, by concerns about climate
change, energy security, and rising petroleum prices (Hameed and Arshad 2008; Carter et
al. 2007). The relative contribution of the biofuel sector to palm oil demand has been
73
challenged, especially since palm oil continues to be primarily used for food consumption30
(Sanders et al. 2013). However, biofuel mandates in developed countries – notably the
European Union31, and increasingly in developing countries, have undoubtedly fueled
speculation and catalyzed the rising global investments in palm oil (Nupueng et al. 2018;
Castiblanco et al. 2015; Borras et al. 2010; Dauvergne and Neville 2010). At its onset, the
development of the Guatemalan oil palm sector was likewise propelled in part by
international biofuel investors, where speculation that international oil prices would
continue to rise attracted large sums of financial capital that funded the acquisition of
farmland throughout the country’s northern lowlands (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; c.f.
Borras et al. 2016).
Nearly all of the crude palm oil produced in Guatemala is exported, mostly to Mexico, the
Netherlands, Germany, and El Salvador32 (UN Comtrade 2018). The total land area
dedicated to oil palm cultivation in the country is uncertain as different sources indicate
vastly different figures. Banco de Guatemala estimated that oil palm covered about 23,800
ha in 2001, which increased to about 60,000 ha in 2010 and 82,600 ha in 2014 – amounting
to nearly a 250% increase over 13 years (Banco de Guatemala 2014). Another source
suggests that over 100,000 ha were already planted with oil palm by 2010 and that the
area expansion had been far greater and more rapid than reported by official sources
(Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). Much of the recent oil palm expansion occurred in the
northern lowlands of the country, including the Lachuá Ecoregion, where this case study is
based.
30 It has been suggested that lower production costs of palm oil, relative price between palm and soy bean oil,
and consumer preferences may have played a significant role in pushing up palm oil demand (Priyati 2018; Sanders et al. 2013)
31 Recognizing that the expansion of oil palm is a primary driver of deforestation in Malaysia and Indonesia
due, the European Union recently voted to ban palm oil in biofuels as of January 2021 (Friends of the Earth Netherlands, 2018).
32 It is difficult to ascertain the final use of the product after it had been exported.
74
Figure 3: Guatemalan crude palm oil production and exports 1993 – 2016*.
*Data source: USDA 2018; UN Comtrade 2018.
3.7 ProRural/ProPalma – emergence of oil palm contract farmers
The Guatemalan oil palm boom was spearheaded by large agribusinesses including Olmeca
and Palmas del Ixcán, with contract farmers coming into play in the late 2000s. Alongside
the oil palm expansion efforts by large firms, the Guatemalan government (through the
Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock) began to formally promote contract oil palm
cultivation around 200833 through the ProPalma program, which was a subsidiary the
ProRural program aimed at supporting rural development (Guereña and Zepeda 2013). Oil
33 The program was financed through FONADES (National Development Fund) created in 2006. However, the exact start date of ProRural and ProPalma activities are unclear. Guereña and Zepeda (2013) assert that ProPalma was implemented in 2008 and effectively ended a year later when a number of ProRural programs were directed to the Ministry of Agriculture (MAGA) and the ProPalma trust fund was transferred to ADINC for administration. Other sources suggest that ProRural was still active, in partnership with ADINC, until 2012 (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011).
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palm cultivation was explicitly included as part of the national food security strategy in
2009 (PESAN 2009), with the rationale that the generation of rural employment and
income would improve food security34 (Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
It should be noted when ProRural was initiated in the mid 2000s, global prices for oil palm
were at record highs. The rising demand for palm oil in the food industry and the newly
created demand in the energy sector sent the oil palm prices soaring (World Bank Data,
2015). Many expected oil palm to become a sought-after biodiesel feedstock, since it was
among the cheapest and least resource-intensive oil crops to produce. As more countries
around the globe implemented biofuel blending mandates as part of their climate change
mitigation and energy security strategies, massive global investments into the crop began
to pour in (Borras et al. 2015; Hall 2011). For instance, Palmas del Ixcán in 2007 was
initially established for the purpose of producing oil palm for biodiesel, as a subsidiary of a
U.S. based company Green Earth Fuels (Solis et al. 2013). Driven in part by foreign biofuel
finance (at least in the beginning), Palmas del Ixcán began to purchase thousands of
hectares of land in the Guatemalan northern lowlands – mainly in the Chisec and Ixcán
regions of Alta Verapaz and El Quiché. At the same time, the government initiated
ProRural/ProPalma to promote oil palm cultivation to farmers in the same regions and to
arrange buyer contracts with Palmas del Ixcán (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). Oil palm
expansion in the area thereby occurred via two fronts: (1) direct purchasing of land by
Palmas del Ixcán agribusiness, and (2) government-sponsored efforts to incorporate
farmers into the oil palm supply as contract producers for the same enterprise.
To encourage contract farmers start their oil palm farms, ProRural/ProPalma offered seed
capital, seedlings, fertilizers (enough for at least the first year) to small-scale producers35
(<24.5 ha), several months of training workshops, and a 25-year contract with a buyer –
Palmas del Ixcán. At its conception ProRural intended to invest over 42,000 quetzales
34 PESAN’s vision of oil palm in food security had been rather contradictory, as expanding monocultures were also identified as a threat to food security via displacement of basic grains (PESAN 2009).
35 Oil palm contract farmers in Guatemala range substantially in terms of land holding size: can be less than a hectare to over 100 hectares or anything in between.
76
(approx. 5500 USD) per producer annually36 over a period of three years while the oil palm
trees matured. When the producers begin to sell the fruit, they would start to pay back the
amount by selling the fruit at a discount (Guereña and Zepeda 2013). In other words,
growers were given an advance on the costs of inputs, which were later deducted from the
cost of the fruit.
After a short time in operation (~one year) ProRural was restructured and most of its
subsidiary programs were passed onto the Ministry of Agriculture (MAGA). The
administration of the remaining ProPalma funding, however, was transferred to the
Association of Farmers for the Comprehensive Development of the Northern Basin and the
Chixoy River (ADINC)37. From the start, ADINC was plagued with controversy over
allegedly incorrect debt and payment records, contract discrepancies, and other issues that
put many oil palm growers at an increased disadvantage. Some farmers claimed that
ADINC did not deliver all of the promised farming inputs and financial support, rendering
them unable to pay their debt because of insufficient harvest, and in some cases having no
choice but to sell their land. Some growers left the association and initiated lawsuits
(Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Solis et al. 2013). Despite the controversy, ADINC continues to
administer contracts with Palmas del Ixcán for over 300 smallholder oil palm producers
covering over 2100 ha of land, including the debt repayments from ProRural/ProPalma
through ADINC (interviews; Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
The oil palm boom in the Guatemalan northern lowlands experienced temporary setbacks
in 2008-2009, when the palm oil prices hit a sudden slump, and in 2011, when Palmas del
Ixcán temporarily slowed its acquisition plans following the withdrawal of U.S.
36 The investment was considered an advance on future production without interest or collateral. However, some beneficiaries claim to have received less than a quarter of that amount in the first year of the program (Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
37 ADINC is the Association of Farmers for the Comprehensive Development of the Northern Basin and the Chixoy River, supported by government and international aid. Initially the main objective of ADINC was to promote agriculture of staple crops, maize and beans, to sell in local markets. In the late 2000s, it expanded its scope to include cash-crop promotion, particularly oil palm (Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
77
investments38 (Guereña and Zepeda 2013). Palmas del Ixcán initially intended to expand
its own plantations to 25,000 hectares by 2013, in addition to working with 800 producers
under contract (covering approximately 4000 ha of land). However, by 2013 it purchased
only about 5000 ha of land, which was substantially less than originally planned (Guereña
and Zepeda 2013), and contracted with less than half of the initially proposed 800 farmers.
Even with the slowdown, oil palm production in Guatemala continued to rise. By 2016, the
country produced over 500,000 MT of palm oil per year, signifying a five-fold increase in
less than ten years (USDA 2018). However, aside from the members of ADINC, the
contribution of contract farmers to the country’s total palm oil output is not well
documented. There are several possible causes of the lack of clarity regarding the role of
contract farmers. Beyond the administrative challenges and transaction costs associated
with keeping track of their contract farmers, large agribusinesses may not want to make
too much information available. One issue that has been observed but not widely studied is
the difference in working conditions between agribusiness-owned plantations and their
contracted suppliers. According to some interviewees, contract farmers who hire wage
laborers also tend to pay less and be more open to hiring children than large
agribusinesses. Therefore, documenting information about their vendors may provoke
undesired scrutiny for the oil palm agribusinesses. Another issue is that disclosing vendor
information may complicate the agribusiness’ prospects of obtaining sustainability
certifications. For example, the Roundtable for Sustainable Oil Palm has only recently
started a certification program for smallholder oil palm producers. However, this program
is aimed at smallholder groups or cooperatives, and is therefore not suitable for certifying
individual producers who may be selling fruit to a large agribusiness (RSPO 2016).
Despite the lack of records, it is known that oil palm contract farming is not unique to the
Chisec and Ixcán regions or to Palmas del Ixcán. Naturaceites – another large oil palm
38 Green Earth Fuels cited economic losses during the 2008 financial crisis as their reason for pulling out of the Guatemalan venture. However, it has been speculated that the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s decision to strip palm oil-based biodiesel of its ‘renewable’ fuel designation due to concerns over deforestation, may have also been a factor in the company’s decision to withdraw from oil palm (Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
78
agribusiness that operates in various parts of Guatemala – also works with contract
farmers (Naturaceites 2016). Further differences between contract farmers and large
agribusinesses are discussed in Chapter 4 in the context of their development implications
in the host communities.
3.8 Oil palm, development, and food security in Guatemala
Much like the earlier NTX initiatives, ProRural/ProPalma promoted oil palm through a pro-
poor rhetoric. By offering peasant producers an opportunity to enter into what was, at the
time, a booming commodity sector, ProPalma proponents claimed that the program would
generate development in some of the poorest parts of Guatemala, and curb the problem of
land sales (interviews; Solis et al. 2013; Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). However,
reminiscent of the NTX programs, ProPalma’s actual development outcomes have been
mixed as they sometimes worked against the poor, especially if participants had entered
the market late, under adverse terms, or with inadequate support (Isakson 2014; Solis et al.
2013; Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Carletto et al. 2007).
In the emerging agrarian extractivist regime, the small-scale oil palm contract farmers are
subordinated into the vertically integrated supply chains under highly restrictive
conditions, with consequences for their workforce and host communities. As some of the
poorer and most vulnerable members of the oil palm production complex, contract farmers
are subsumed in such a way that they no longer collect the surplus value and land rent, and
are rendered progressively weaker with respect to other actors in the supply chain, and
susceptible to market volatility (Alonso-Fradejas 2015; c.f. Watts 1994). The exploitative
relationship between contract growers and large agribusiness was set up with the initial
contract arrangement through ProPalma, which included a 25-year purchasing agreement
between the farmers and Palmas del Ixcán. This agreement was one of the key determining
factors for the producers in deciding to cultivate oil palm as it guaranteed them a buyer for
their product, which was not the case with a number of previous cash-crop promotion
79
schemes headed by NGOs and government agencies39. However, the contract provided no
other guarantees and left the landowners solely responsible for all aspects of production,
transportation of the fruit to the buyer’s processing facility, and managing risks of crop
failure. Furthermore, the contract pegged the purchase price of oil palm fruit to the
international price of petroleum40 (from interviews with oil palm growers), thereby forcing
the farmers to share the risk of commodity price fluctuation, including if prices fall below
production costs.
In the contract arrangement, the buyer is also free to apply its own quality standards in its
management of suppliers (c.f. Watts 1994). If the quality of the fruit is below average (i.e. if
the fruit has low juice/oil content), the weight of the harvest is lower, and thus the grower
bears the cost of the poor harvest. The producer also assumes all risks, from
environmental (e.g. droughts, crop disease), to economic (e.g. rise in fertilizer costs), to
social and political (e.g. employee management, community relations, land conflicts, etc.).
This way, the contract arrangement formalized the dependency of the producers on their
sole purchaser while assigning nearly all of the risk burden to the contract farmers and
linking their fate directly to global commodity price fluctuations. Furthermore, the heavily
constrained farmers are forced to contend with growing competition for their farmland,
and to compete with large enterprises deploying modern farming techniques and
biotechnologies (Alonso-Fradejas 2015).
The subordinate position of Lachuán contract farmers in the oil palm sector and its
implications for development and food security in the host community are discussed in
Chapter 4. The results in this study largely confirm the earlier suggestions that small flex-
crop (oil palm) producers are particularly vulnerable to global commodity price
39 From interviews with oil palm growers and community leaders. One community leader recalled instances of agents coming to the region to promote cash crops such as cardamom and never returning to purchase the harvest as initially promised.
40 Another sources suggests that the purchase price is calculated as a fraction of international oil palm price (Alonso-Fradejas, personal communication). The reason for the discrepancy is unclear, but may be due to variations in contract terms with Palmas del Ixcan and/or ADINC, or misunderstanding and/or misrepresentation of the pricing scheme. For instance, some oil palm producers have accused ADINC of debt miscalculations and contract irregularities (Guereña and Zepeda 2013).
80
fluctuations, which carries negative consequences for employment, wages, and food
security in their host communities.
To date, not much research exists documenting the effects of ProPalma and the subsequent
oil palm expansion on rural development and food security outcomes. Most existing
studies of oil palm in Guatemala have focused on agrarian conflict and land grabbing
(Granovsky-Larsen 2013; Alonso-Fradejas 2012; Grandia 2012; Ybarra 2010), with others
looking at regional economic impacts of oil palm (Dürr 2016), labour issues on oil palm
plantations (Hurtado and Sanchez 2012), and some aspects of socio-economic impacts on
households such as income, maize self-sufficiency, and time spent on social activities,
family, personal care, and rest (Mingorría et al. 2014). However, these works have pointed
to significant problems caused by large agribusiness expansion, with little mention of
contract farmers and their impacts on host communities. A few studies have touched on
implications of oil palm on food security, though not extensively (Gómez 2016; Mingorría
et al. 2014). None of the existing studies have examined socio-ecological resilience or food
system vulnerability, which is a gap that is addressed in this thesis.
Overall, the existing literature on oil palm cultivation has questioned the benefits of the
crop for rural development, particularly for the poor. Dürr (2016) found that replacing
maize cultivation with oil palm decreases regional employment by about 30%, mostly due
to the loss of forward-linked jobs in petty trading and local processing. Furthermore,
because most of the generated wealth tends to leave the region (heading directly towards
national and transnational firms), substitution of maize with oil palm decreases regional
income by about 40%. Dürr (2016) concluded that maize generates a far more inclusive
and pro-poor development than oil palm. The study presented in this thesis further
examines the problem of uneven development by differentiating the impacts of oil palm on
different types of households and outlining the processes leading to the disadvantage of
vulnerable households in the host community.
Other studies (Mingorría et al. 2014; Hurtado and Sanchez 2012) also scrutinized
employment generation by oil palm companies, mainly with respect to a lack of job
security, poor working conditions, unfair pay, and highly oppressive and exploitative
employment dynamics. Mingorría et al (2014) noted that oil palm employment is
81
associated with increased household income, although the significance of the increase is
reduced when taking into account other aspects of household productivity (e.g. income
over time spent on work; less time on other productive activities). This thesis extends the
existing research of oil palm employment to farmers working under contract with an
agribusiness, including the implications for household income.
Studies looking explicitly at food security outcomes of oil palm in Guatemala have been
largely absent. Among those that have, Mingorría et al. (2014) suggested that the rising
prevalence of oil palm wage labour in household livelihood strategies can compromise
maize self-provisioning, potentially leading to lower food security. Specifically, they found
that households whose member are wage workers on oil palm plantations have generally
lower maize productivity as a result of having less time for maize cultivation. Their study
also concluded that women whose husbands or sons worked on oil palm plantations have
less time to rest and participate in community activities as they need to spend more time
on household chores and tending to maize fields (c.f. Agarwal 2000). Though the study
hints at declining food security and general wellbeing in the oil palm producing
communities, these impacts were not treated in depth. More research is necessary to
understand how and why the development of oil palm shapes the various dimensions of
food provisioning, including procurement and consumption, and whether its impacts are
similar in contexts beyond Mingorría et al.’s (2014) case study.
A confounding aspect of understanding rural food (in)security in Guatemala is that many
households partake in a combination of subsistence farming and wage labour, which can be
impacted in different ways by external shocks such as spikes in food prices (De Janvry and
Sadoulet 2011; Isakson 2009). The implications of oil palm expansion on wage labourers’
household incomes and staple food cultivation and access are discussed in Chapters 4 and
5. Chapter 5 further unpacks the interactions between wages and staple crop cultivation
outcomes, which are particularly reflected in the cost analysis of maize cultivation, as well
as the increasing importance of cost minimization strategies such as non-waged exchanges.
A scarcely explored aspect of development and food security in Guatemalan oil palm
literature is the environmental impact of the spreading monoculture. Negative impacts of
oil palm plantations on biodiversity, soils, and water resources have been documented in
82
other parts of the world (Carlson et al. 2014; Lee et al. 2013; Obidzinski et al. 2012; Comte
et al. 2012), though not explicitly in correspondence with food system dynamics.
Environmental concern has recently peaked in light of the 2015 ecological disaster in La
Pasión River when an alleged toxic spill from an oil palm processing facility belonging to
REPSA (Reforestadora de Palma de Petén SA) caused massive die-off of fish and
contamination of water used by dozens of downstream communities (an allegation that the
company continues to deny) (Zepeda 2017). While the incident garnered international
attention for the widespread ecological damage and serious livelihood impacts on the local
(predominantly poor) population, systematic socio-ecological studies concerning oil palm
are lacking, particularly in regard to regular oil palm farming operations that do not
immediately result in a striking ‘ecocide’ event like the La Pasión spill41 (Water Grabbing
2016). One undergraduate thesis study of a community in Chisec hinted at compromised
food security from encroaching oil palm plantations, citing deforestation, increased
prevalence of disease-carrying pests, and declining water resources among the main issues
(Gómez 2016). Similar issues have been documented in the oil palm dominated
community in this study, and incorporated into a comprehensive analysis of the local food
system and socio-ecological resilience of the host community.
Nearly all of the oil palm studies in Guatemala point to the rising pressure on land as a key
issue compromising the development prospects of host communities, aggravating conflicts,
and heightening local food insecurity (c.f. Gómez 2016; Mingorría et al. 2014; Alonso-
Fradejas 2012; Grandia 2012). Oil palm has been notoriously problematic in permanently
(and sometimes forcibly) displacing indigenous Maya subsistence farmers in favour of
large-scale monocrop plantation establishment, typically owned by large agribusinesses
(Alonso-Fradejas 2012). Interestingly, the ProRural-led smallholder integration into the oil
41 Several study participants mentioned that oil palm and other plantations in different parts of the country have been known to alter river flows and possibly contaminate water bodies, which has been condemned as ‘water grabbing’. Affected communities are often frustrated at their lack of recourse for such occurrences as allegations are difficult to prove without complex, lengthy and expensive scientific studies.
83
palm business was marketed explicitly as a way to curb land grabs42 (interviews; Alonso-
Fradejas et al. 2011). The logic behind this claim was that land acquisitions were a matter
of choice and that, if presented with a viable and profitable livelihood practice, peasants
would continue to farm their land rather than sell it. It has been suggested, however, that
ProPalma was little more than an instrument of the government’s tacit support for large-
scale oil palm expansion, since it ultimately brought more hectares of land under the
(indirect) control of agribusinesses (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). Watts (1994) has noted
that contract farming is a form of the ‘vertical coordination’ of production by capitalist
enterprises, which he argues can be a more secure source of profit than the vertical
integration of all production stages. As described in Chapter 4, there are evident differences
in land acquisition dynamics between large agribusinesses and the oil palm producers in
this study. However, supporting earlier observations (Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011), it is
found here that the contract farming of oil palm under ProRural still increases the oil palm
sector’s control over farmland, which is reflective of a similar land-grabbing pattern by
smallholders in the Southeast Asian oil palm boom (Hall 2011; Hall et al. 2011).
42 While curbing land sales was not an official objective of ProRural/ProPalma, government officials were known to present the program in this way to potential participants in order to garner support (interviews; Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011)
84
Chapter 4
Land, Labour, and Development in the Oil Palm Host Community
4.1 Introduction
The establishment of oil palm contract farms, working under contract with Palmas del
Ixcán, in Lachuá was spearheaded by the state program ProRural/ProPalma around 2007.
Boosting rural incomes, creating employment, and stimulating rural development were
among the purported main goals of the program, along with discouraging peasant land
sales. While curbing land transactions was not explicitly stated as an official objective in
the program documents, participants – including the oil palm growers in this study – had
recalled the program being presented to them as a means of dissuading peasants from
selling land by providing them with the lucrative alternative of producing a high-demand
crop (c.f. Alonso-Fradejas et al. 2011). An underpinning assumption, of course, was that
land sales to oil palm growers and their brokers is a choice.
This chapter examines the role of oil palm farms in the dynamics of land sales, the changing
labour conditions, and the socio-economic development in the participant communities.
The presented results challenge the official pro-oil palm narrative, suggesting that oil palm
has contributed to the precarization43 of labour and increased the vulnerability of the host
communities to global commodity price fluctuations. Furthermore, contrary to the claims
of ProRural officials, the program appears to have done little to preclude land sales, and
instead put additional pressure on local land resources and spurred land sales geared
towards oil palm production. At the same time, the benefits from oil palm have been
limited to short-term gains in employment and income for a minority of the community
43 Precarization refers to the tendency of the labour market towards more insecure and less predictable
employment conditions such as short contracts, subcontracts, lack of benefits, and general lack of protection for the employee from bad employer practices and poor or dangerous working conditions (see Standing 2011).
85
members, while the social, ecological, and economic costs of oil palm have mounted for the
majority of community members.
4.2 Formation of Palm and Maize Villages
Both, Palm Village and Maize Village were formed in the 1980s, at the tail-end of the
Guatemalan 36-year civil war, which officially ended with the signing of the UN-sponsored
Peace Accords in December 1996. As was the case for many communities in Lachuá, they
were designed as ‘model villages’ (see Section 2.8.4) and their settlement was initiated
partly by families of military and former-military officers organizing with other families
into peasant associations. As they migrated to the area, the founding families obtained
substantial parcels of land, typically ~17ha per family. In some cases, notably in Maize
Village, the association members were eventually able to secure a title, authorized at the
time by Guatemala’s national land institute, INTA44, and later by its land bank
FONTIERRAS45 (interviews, see also Ybarra 2010 and Granovsky-Larsen 2013).
In the years following the civil war, the Lachuá Ecoregion had been the subject of rapid
change. Much of the change stemmed from the various post-war development initiatives
sponsored by the World Bank, the Inter-American Development Bank, and USAID
(Lastarria-Cornhiel 2003). Development projects included the construction of a major
highway spanning the Franja region, construction of hydroelectric dams46, and the re-
opening of several petroleum wells (Solano 2012). At the same time many villages,
including Palm and Maize Village, had experienced considerable population growth, which
added to the pressure on local resources and demand for land.
Much like other communities in Lachuá and further along the Franja, Palm and Maize
villages have seen little development beyond the introduction of various cash crops over
44 National Institute of Agrarian Transformation, created by the law 1551 in 1962.
45 ‘Fundo de Tierras’ or the Land Fund, created after the 1996 peace accords to eventually replace INTA in 1999.
46 At least two major, and highly contentious, hydroelectric projects are underway on the neighbouring Chixoy and Icbolay Rivers.
86
the years (including cardamom, rubber, pineapple, and oil palm), pasture, and small-scale
tourism to the nearby national park. To date, government investment into local
infrastructure, health, and education has been minimal, with most initiatives organized and
funded by community members themselves, private outside donors, and through
partnerships with universities and other organizations. For instance, some schools in the
region have been wholly funded by NGOs. In another example, doctors were invited to the
communities as part of a research project, and they provided medical check-ups and other
services during their stay (interview data). Although such initiatives have been fruitful,
they have generally been short-term and limited in scope due to a lack of funding
continuity. For instance, doctors continue to visit the region, but only on an intermittent
basis, schools persistently suffer from inadequate access to educational materials and
shortage of qualified staff, and at least one school has closed down in recent years when its
supporting NGO could no longer provide funding. Both villages continue to struggle with a
lack of sanitation infrastructure – i.e. no running water or any type of water treatment
facilities, limited access to medical care and other services, and overall poor quality of life.
4.3 Agriculture in the Lachua Ecoregion
Maize and beans are the main staple crops cultivated in the region. In Palm and Maize
Village, most households cultivate maize on their own or rented plots of land (further
discussed in Chapter 5). Most households cultivate two maize harvests per year. Maize is
typically planted in October to be harvested in March. The second harvest is grown from
May to September. Beans take about three months to mature and can be harvested three
times per year. Table 3 summarizes the tasks involved in a typical maize growing cycle and
the approximate number of people and time required to perform them per manzana of
land47. In some cases, if fewer people (and/or slower workers) are available to perform the
task it may take a longer time to complete, or vice versa. The time and difficulty level of the
tasks also depends on the location of the parcel, terrain, weather, overall condition of the
47 A manzana is a common measure of land area in Guatemala that is equivalent to 0.7ha
87
field, and other factors. Some farmers apply fertilizer three times per growing cycle, while
others only once or not at all depending on soil fertility and access to fertilizer.
Bean cultivation involves similar tasks except for fertilizer application. However, weeding
and harvesting require more people and/or time per land area. Most seed varieties are
hybrids and few households practice intercropping of maize and beans. Men perform most
farm tasks, however, women also help when needed, especially at harvest time. Women
also dry and manually shell the maize, as well as clean and sort beans.
Table 3: Maize cultivation tasks per manzana of land (Source: interviews with three
maize farmers)
Maize cultivation task Approximate
number of
people needed
to perform the
task
Approximate number of days
needed to perform task
Clearing land for cultivation
(including controlled burning)
16 1-2
Sowing seeds 8 1
First fertilizer application 5 1 (or one person can do it in three
days)
Herbicide application 8 1
Second fertilizer application 5 1
Manually weeding the field 8 1 (or one person can do it in eight
days)
Harvesting 15 1 (more days depending on the
number and abilities of the
workers)
Other crops grown in the Lachuá Ecoregion include cardamom, rubber, pineapple
(previously a major crop grown in Palm Village), melons, and peanuts. Some villagers have
fruit trees (orange, banana, papaya) on their properties that they occasionally harvest and
in some cases sell – though this is not a significant income source in the two study villages.
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4.4 Oil Palm Growers in Palm Village
All except one of the oil palm growers in Palm Village got their start through the ProPalma
program in 2007 and live in the community (see Table 4). The remaining oil palm grower
(OPG6 in Table 4), also a contract producer, is an absentee landowner possessing the
largest oil palm plantation in Palm Village, along with other landholdings in a number of
communities in the region. All of the oil palm growers, including OPG6, are part of the
ADINC association that manages contracts with Palmas del Ixcán. However, OPG6 is the
only grower who has substantially expanded his plantation over the last few years, and is
continuing to buy land to convert to oil palm. The second community – Maize Village –
currently has minimal oil palm presence (two relatively small plantations of 28.5ha and
5ha). Most of the land is dedicated to the cultivation of maize, remnants of tropical forest,
and secondary forest.
Table 4: Characteristics of oil palm growers in Palm Village (from 2015 survey).
Oil Palm
Grower
(OPG)
Oil Palm
Area
Owned
Total
Landholdings in
Palm Village
Notes
OPG1 7 ha 7 ha Has 7 ha of forest-covered land in
another Lachuá community
OPG2 7 ha 17.5 ha Has forest on remaining 10.5 ha
OPG3 7 ha 16.8 ha Forest on 7.7 ha, maize on 1.4 ha, and
beans on 0.7 ha
OPG4 28 ha 28 ha Has land in another part of Guatemala
dedicated to other crops
OPG5 70 ha 99 ha Has forest, corn, and other crops on his
land parcel, in addition to oil palm
OPG6 336 ha 675+ ha Absentee landowner; also has a rubber
plantation in Palm Village, as well as
other businesses, including export of
forest products
Resembling other examples from Honduras (Fromm 2007) and Southeast Asia (McCarthy
2010), the contract relationship between the oil palm growers in Palm Village with Palmas
del Ixcán is highly restrictive and exploitative. The agribusiness (Palmas del Ixcán) sets the
89
quality standards and purchase price for oil palm fruit, while providing insufficient
assistance to the farmers in terms of inputs and extension services. The contract farmers
are therefore put in the position of having to maintain the necessary quality and quantity of
production while contending with risks such as price fluctuations with minimal to no
support. The situation is complicated by frequently changing government regulations and
ADINC’s problem-plagued management (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Solis et al. 2013).
These issues notwithstanding, the oil palm growers, especially ones with larger land
holdings, are substantially better off than the vast majority of households in Palm and
Maize Villages. However, as in other cases around the world (c.f. McCarthy 2010; Clapp
1988), Palm Village oil palm growers were relatively well off to begin with – enough as to
allow them to make the initial investment in their farms, wait three to four years for their
first harvest, and weather the problems with ProRural. For instance, prior to cultivating oil
palm, OPG5 sold a cattle ranch. Other oil palm growers likewise had savings from previous
ventures.
4.5 Land distribution in Palm and Maize Villages
At the time of the survey (2015), over 450 hectares of land in Palm Village was covered in
oil palm (see Table 4) compared to about 33.5 ha of oil palm in Maize Village. Aside from
the striking difference in the number and size of oil palm plantations, the distribution of
land among peasants is similar in the two villages. Table 5 shows the characteristics of
land tenure type (rent versus owned) in the surveyed households. The largest portion of
the surveyed households rent agricultural land parcels (48% in Palm Village and 58% in
Maize Village), followed by households that own land (38% in Palm Village and 33% in
Maize Village)48.
48 There are eight cases in total where a household own land while also renting land. In three of these cases, households own land that is in a different village (far away), so they rent land close by. In two cases, households own land in the community where they live, but rent land in a different village with more fertile soil. In three cases, households own and rent a parcel in the village where they live because they are in the process of transitioning ownership (e.g. inherited land a year ago).
90
Land ‘ownership’ here is used in a problematic sense, referring to the occupation of land,
without necessarily having legal documentation in accordance with the current laws. Many
land owners in both villages remain ‘in the process’ of finalizing paperwork due to the
challenges posed by the country’s problematic land tenure procedures and recourses,
rooted in the historical marginalization of peasants, bureaucratic inconsistencies, law-
changes, and other issues described in Chapter 3.
Table 5: Community and sample* land tenure characteristics.
Household Land Tenure Number of Households in Sample
Palm Village Maize Village
Own land 16 (38%) 13 (33%)
Rent land (do not own) 20 (48%) 23 (58%)
Neither own nor rent land (landless) 6 (14%) 4 (10%)
*Palm Village has 92 total households, sample n=42. Maize Village has 135 total households, sample n=40.
Figure 4: Size of landholdings in Palm and Maize Villages owned by the surveyed
households*.
*Oil palm growers and cases where a household owns land in a different community are excluded. Twenty
seven of the surveyed households in each village do not own land.
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
<0.7 0.8-1.4 1.5-2 2.1-3.4 3.5-6.9 7-19.9 20-50
Nu
mb
er o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Size of agricultural land parcel (ha)
Owned Landholdings by Size
Palm Village Maize Village
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Figure 5: Size of landholdings in Palm and Maize Villages rented by the surveyed
households*.
*Cases where a household also owns land in these communities are excluded.
The distribution of the land parcel size is also similar in the two villages. Owned land
holdings ranged in size in the two communities (Figure 4). However, the vast majority of
the rented holdings in both communities are ~0.7 ha (1 manzana49) in size, with the
remainder of rented holdings being less than 1.5ha (with one exception in Palm Village, see
Figure 5). All of the renters in both communities used land for subsistence agriculture,
with a few cases where households also sold a portion of the cultivated staples from their
harvest for income. Cultivation on owned or rented plots is further discussed in Chapter 5,
in connection to food security.
4.6 Land history in Palm and Maize Villages
The recent land transactions in Palm and Maize Villages are rooted in the social and
economic conditions during and following the initial establishment of the communities.
The population of the Franja region, inclusively Lachuá, has been predominantly poor and
49 Manzana is the commonly used land unit in the region, equivalent to approximately 0.7 hectares.
0
2
4
6
8
10
12
14
16
18
20
<0.7 0.8-1.4 1.5-2 2.1-3.4
Nu
mb
er o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Size of agricultural land parcel (ha)
Rented Landholdings by Size
Palm Village Maize Village
92
socially marginalized. Some communities have experienced massacres and other violent
events in the 1980s, which have left lasting scars (Ybarra 2010). The region remained
fraught with social and political tensions even after the civil war officially ended. The
multitude of institutional inadequacies of land titling in the country created further
complications for local land users, disadvantaging first and foremost the poorest and
otherwise marginalized sub-populations in the region.
The prominent military presence amid the high socio-economic inequality along the Franja
had significantly influenced the processes of land acquisition. Military influence was
particularly evident in Palm Village, which had been a site of ongoing conflict between
peasants and military officials in the 1980s. Interviews with Palm Village residents and
community leaders revealed a number of instances in which military officers bought land
in the community from very poor families or families in crisis (e.g. health emergencies) for
prices significantly below market value, sometimes with the use of threats and/or violence.
Table 6 summarizes the number and size of land parcels sold and reasons for sale in Palm
Village. Prior to 2006, all of the land buyers had been military officers or intermediaries
purchasing land with the intention of either establishing cattle ranches themselves, re-
selling to cattle ranchers, or holding land in hopes of opportunity in ecotourism
(interviews, c.f. Ybarra 2010). All, except two of the sales were ‘crisis sales’ by households
dealing with illness or other family emergencies, or struggling with poor harvests due to
low soil quality. Two households also received pressure from the buyer, but did not wish
to elaborate.
The prospect of starting cattle businesses was among the military officers’ chief interests in
the land in the 1980s-90s. The official recognition of the Laguna Lachuá National Park as a
protected area of archeological and cultural importance in 1996 brought additional interest
for local land and its ecotourism potential. For the peasants in Palm Village the process of
asserting land claims became even more difficult. In addition to the pressures from
military officers and land speculators who were buying up land along the Franja, peasants
now had to contend with competing land claims by the Ministry of Culture. Some peasants
have even blamed ministry officials for stifling peasant land registration through corrupt
and underhanded means (c.f. Ybarra 2010).
93
Table 6: Land sales in Palm Village out of 42 sampled households*.
* Some quoted multiple reasons for the land sale. In 4 cases, the participants did not wish to disclose their
reasons for sale.
Table 7: Land sales in Maize Village out of 40 sampled households.
Sale Date Number of Transaction
s
Total hectares sold
Currently occupied by oil palm (ha)
Reasons for Sale
Before 2006
0 0 0 Illness (1), debt (1), need for money (1),
other (1) 2006-2010 1 17.5 0 2011-2015 5 40.5 0 Total Sales: 6 58 0
Contrary to their high hopes, the earlier land buyers had limited success with their planned
ventures. Ecotourism in the region did not take off as expected and the local cattle ranches
suffered from insufficient productivity. The generally poor forest-type soil (Monzon 1999)
was deemed a culprit for failing cattle businesses. Two former ranchers in Palm Village
claimed that their cattle failed to thrive because the pasture soils were too low in minerals,
causing the cows to fall ill. The ranchers did not anticipate this problem when they initially
moved into the region.
Sale date Number of trans-actions
Total hectares
sold
Currently occupied by oil palm (ha)
Sold directly to
oil palm producers
Sold to inter-
mediary
Reasons for sale
Before 2006 5 105 88 0 5 Family crisis (2), illness (3), poor soil (2), buyer pressure (2)
2006-2010 5 103 103 2 3 Poor soil (2), debt (2), need for
money (2), parcel surrounded (1)
2011-2015 4 50.5 50.5 4 0 Poor soil(1), parcel surrounded (1)
Total Sales: 14 258.5 241.5 6 8 Likely to sell
in near future
3 36 Parcel surrounded by palm
94
Figure 6: Land Use Change in Palm and Maize Villages 2006-2017. Source: Google Earth;
own land area calculations. Location, scale, complete village boundaries, and other identifiable
landmarks are not shown. Total land area of each village is ~1000ha.
95
The promulgation of ProRural and its integrated supports for oil palm cultivation around
2007 brought a change in course for land investment in the area. Lured by the promise of a
high-value crop with a 25-year buyer guarantee, at least one of the cattle ranchers
converted his pasture to an oil palm farm. Following suit, all of the intermediary buyers in
Palm Village, whether cattle ranchers or land speculators, eventually re-sold their land to
oil palm growers (c.f. Grandia 2012).
The history of land transactions in Maize Village is markedly different from Palm Village
despite their proximity and ecological similarities (Tables 6 and 7). Figure 6 illustrates the
land use changes in the two communities. Palm Village is distinguished by the remarkable
spread of oil palm between 2006 (just before the onset of oil palm) and 2017, by which
time the oil palm overtook about 50% of the total land area of the village. As growers of oil
palm mentioned in interviews, the first oil palm farms (labeled as ‘mature’ in the figure)
were planted on what appears to be pasture land. However, the subsequent spread (‘young
oil palm’ in the figure), largely occurred over previously forested land (~60%) and land
used for other crops (~40%), including staple maize. At the time of the interviews in 2015,
seven out of the original 21 founding families in Maize Village still had their land. The other
families sold land for various reasons, with some parcels changing hands several times in a
few years. Some sold their land to cattle ranchers and subsequently obtained work on the
ranches, others sold to land speculators or to other peasants. Similar to Palm Village,
ranching did not expand much in Maize Village.
Although this study does not fully explain the historical divergences in land acquisitions
and uses between Palm and Maize Villages, it does indicate that the introduction of oil palm
changed the dynamics of land sales50. After the government began to promote oil palm
cultivation under the premise of discouraging land sales, the land sales continued in both
villages for the same reasons as before: mainly debt, illness, and general need for money.
However, starting around 2006, with the purported benefits of ProRural/ProPalma on the
horizon, all of land purchases in Palm Village were explicitly earmarked for oil palm
50 Though it does not appear that oil palm has (yet) accelerated land sales, it certainly did not preclude them.
96
cultivation. Furthermore, as the oil palm expanded, some land parcels became surrounded
by oil palm, forcing their owners to sell, especially when oil palm growers would not grant
them passage to their parcel. As of 2015, out of the remaining 12 households (non-palm
growers) in the survey that still owned land in Palm Village, seven were recently
approached by an oil palm grower to sell their land. In three of these cases, the parcels
were entirely or almost entirely surrounded by oil palm, and will likely have no choice but
to sell in the near future. It should be noted that so far only one of the oil palm growers
(OPG6) in Palm Village has engaged in aggressive land acquisition, although this is by no
means a unique case among contract farmers in the northern lowlands. Such kind of
pressure had not been a factor in the land transactions in Maize Village, except in one case
where a relatively small section of a parcel was sold because it was surrounded by a rubber
plantation. Up until 2017, only two relatively small oil palm farms (28.5 ha and 5 ha, the
latter not shown in Figure 6)51 have been established in Maize Village. In both instances,
the transition to oil palm took place around 2010, when an absentee landowner adopted
the cash crop. Otherwise, forest and the subsistence farming of maize remained the
dominant land uses in the community.
While deforestation in Maize Village should not be overlooked, it has been notably less than
in Palm Village. Between 2006 and 2017, the area of forested land decreased by ~90ha in
Maize Village compared to double that in Palm Village. Furthermore, in Maize Village most
of the forest has stayed as a large (~200ha) parcel, while the forest remnants in Palm
Village have become very fragmented and separated by extensive tracts of oil palm
monoculture. The large forest area in Maize Village is attributable to the fact that it is a
community forest. It does not have a single owner, and any decisions concerning its use
are made by the community council (COCODE). In an interview, one of the COCODE
members in Maize Village explained that most of the council members have so far been
adamant on keeping the forest. However, he had also mentioned that some other
51 Land sales to oil palm growers in Maize Village were not in the random household sample and are therefore not reflected in Table 7.
97
community members who have been trying to get on the council, had proposed selling the
forested land to oil palm farmers or other monocrop producers.
It appears that community leadership has, so far, played a pivotal role in maintaining forest
cover in Maize Village, as well as keeping oil palm development at bay. For example,
COCODE members in Maize Village had publicly conveyed a negative attitude towards oil
palm plantations during community workshops, and in interviews. The view of Palm
Village residents as ‘poor people who have lost their land’ and ‘now they can’t do anything’
was routinely expressed, and the suffering of the people in Palm Village and elsewhere was
often held up as an example of what could happen when villagers sell their land to oil palm.
Those who sold their land were either characterized as exceedingly poor and without
options, or vilified for their reprehensible choices. For instance, in an interview, one of the
Maize Village community leaders referred to the neighbour who sold his parcel to an oil
palm grower (one of the two in Maize Village) as ‘a man without a head’. ‘He sold his land
and bought a fancy car with the money’ the leader recounted. ‘But then the car broke and he
didn’t have anything. So stupid, the man. He had to move away.’
Education and keeping land for future generations were presented as an ideal. As one of
the community leaders said, ‘Thank God, I’m giving my children a chance to study. If they do
not want to work the plot, they can look for work… but what happens when the children are
not studying [] and the parents sell their plots? What are they going to do? Are they going to
steal, or what?’
In addition to the pervading attitudes and community leadership, the causes of oil palm
establishment or lack thereof require further investigation. However, survey results and
interview data suggest that the heated social conditions (e.g. military pressure, violent
events) in Palm Village that facilitated the dispossession of marginalized peasants in the
1980s-90s, also played a role in precipitating the establishment of oil palm. However, for
reasons not immediately clear, Maize Village did not experience conflicts of the same
severity and were relatively more successful with staple crop cultivation and keeping their
plots. Environmental conditions such as depleted soils and limited water, in conjunction
with other social and historical circumstances, may have also been a factor in land sales.
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Although the general soil characteristics are similar between the two communities, parts of
Maize Village appear to have maintained fertility more so than in Palm Village (further
discussed in Chapter 6), possibly due to differences in temporal patterns of land use and
overuse (survey results; Monzon 1999).
4.7 Oil palm and outcomes for employment
Boosting much-needed employment in rural areas is among the main rationales for
supporting boom crops, including oil palm. Small-medium contract farmers are often
portrayed as innovative entrepreneurs and equitable employers in mainstream narratives
(Deininger et al. 2011, World Bank 2011, 2007), although evidence to support these claims
has so far been limited. Studies from Southeast Asia found cases of smallholder plantations
hiring more workers per hectare on average compared to a large and more capital
intensive operations, thus having an overall positive impact on local employment (Li 2011;
Deininger et al. 2011; Friends of the Earth et al. 2008). By contrast, the consequences of
large-scale land acquisition by oil palm agribusinesses have often been negative, and
sometimes devastating, for the host communities (Li 2011; McCarthy 2010).
Much like in Southeast Asia, cases have been observed in Guatemala where large
agribusinesses generated fewer jobs than anticipated. Many of the jobs were then given to
migrant workers, leaving the host communities in deeper poverty and with fewer
livelihood options (Dürr 2016; Mingorría et al. 2014; Grandia 2013; Hurtado and Sanchez
2012). Furthermore, a disturbing trend had been observed in Guatemala, where an
agribusiness would purchase the entire land area of a community, and immediately
proceed to indiscriminately convert all land use into a monocrop plantation. This type of
radical change was witnessed in two communities in the region during fieldwork in 201552.
Following the purchase, a large portion of the residents – typically those who were unable
or unwilling to obtain work on the plantation or were otherwise perturbed by the
52 One of the communities was a remote village in the Lachuá Ecoregion. The second community was in the Ixcán region adjacent to Lachuá.
99
transformation of the village – were forced to leave in search of other livelihood
opportunities (c.f. Grandia 2013).
The results presented in this thesis indicate that oil palm production by contract farmers
can indeed carry more advantages for the host community than large agribusinesses – or,
more accurately, fewer losses. Contrary to the drastic outcomes for communities whose
entire land area had been bought by an oil palm agribusiness, Palm Village has, so far, been
able to maintain a degree of diversity in land use and other livelihood options remain
besides wage labour on oil palm plantations. However, while oil palm production in Maize
Village has indeed generated some employment, it was found that the purported
development benefits from oil palm in the village had not lived up to the expectations
roused by mainstream development narratives. In the case of Maize Village, oil palm
employment on contract farms has been just as, if not more, precarious as similar work on
large agribusinesses in terms of job security, safety, and equity. Furthermore, the
recruitment practices on the plantations are highly exclusive and trending more and more
towards hiring of migrants.
4.8 Recruitment and labour relations on oil palm operations
Some 100 kilometres north of Lachuá, in the municipality of Sayaxché, El Petén, Hurtado
and Sanchez (2012) documented the hiring and workforce management practices of oil
palm agribusinesses. They found that recruitment is typically conducted on a semi-
informal basis, where potential candidates are contracted by cell-phone and subsequently
picked up and transported to their work site by truck53, with little assurance other than
verbal agreement (see also Guereña and Zepeda 2013). Migrant workers are usually hired
on short-term contracts (2-3 weeks) without guarantee for future re-hire, which is a
common exploitative practice for minimizing cost and risk to the employer (Hurtado and
Sanchez 2012).
53 Trucks are not designed for transporting passengers and do not have standard safety features such as
seats or seatbelts for the workers. Transportation therefore carries its own substantial safety risks.
100
Oil palm agribusinesses in Sayaxché typically conduct all of the hiring, management, and
compensation of the plantation’s labour force through contratistas, or contractors.
Contratistas are put in charge of most worker-related issues – from labour disputes to
health emergencies such as snake bites or injuries on the plantation – which they are often
neither trained for nor have the necessary resources to handle effectively and fairly. The
people chosen for this job are always community leaders who are specifically sought out
for their social status in order to maintain a hierarchical power structure that discourages
worker complaints (Hurtado and Sanchez 2012). However, contratistas themselves are
also vulnerable in serious dispute situations, as the agribusiness may well claim ignorance
and leave the contratista to answer for the consequences for an escalated issue. In this
way, the agribusiness removes itself from responsibility for worker safety and fair
compensation while taking advantage of already existing power relations in the
communities to maintain control over its workforce (Hurtado and Sanchez 2012).
Furthermore, the agribusiness’ semi-informal recruitment process, high employee turn-
over, and poor record keeping leaves many workers out of the line of sight of monitoring,
paving way to precarious employment where the business is able to dissociate itself with
the worker in the event of a problem arising54 (Guereña and Zepeda 2013). Agribusinesses
have also been known to declare only a small portion of their workforce to the Ministrio de
Trabajo y Prevision Social (MTPS)55 and Instituto Guatemalteco de Seguridad Social
(IGSS)56 to further cut costs and evade responsibility for their labour force (Hurtado and
Sanchez 2012).
The oil palm agribusiness management practices, as described by Hurtado and Sanchez
(2012), are highly problematic in their tendency to propagate precarization of labour.
Precarization refers to the tendency of the labour market towards more insecure and less
predictable employment conditions such as short contracts, subcontracts, lack of benefits,
54 No interviews with Palmas del Ixcán representatives were carried out to confirm these findings in the context of this study.
55 MTPS looks after official employment statistics.
56 IGSS provides social insurance and health benefits to workers.
101
and general lack of protection for the employee from bad employer practices and poor or
dangerous working conditions (see Standing 2011). The agribusinesses’ deliberate
strategies of distancing themselves from labour management and compensation are
particularly problematic.
The oil palm labour regime on the contract farms in Palm Village bears a few important
differences from the agribusinesses in Sayaxché. One major difference is that all of the oil
palm farm owners, with exception of one (OPG6), live in the village and are thus
inextricably part of the community. Secondly, the owners of the plantations, especially the
smaller ones (7 ha), perform some of the manual labour themselves alongside their hired
workers, and also actively participate in employee management. Having no opportunity to
dissociate themselves from their employees or from the community, maintaining positive
relationships is a high priority. For instance, in the past, oil palm growers relied on the
community for help to resolve conflicts with other villages and so called ‘invaders’57. In
January 2015, oil palm growers dealt with ‘invaders’ from another village who set fire to
the oil palm, and reportedly stole over 100 tonnes of fertilizer. Though the specifics (and
exact intentions) of the incident were not immediately clear, following the incident, the
community gained interest in preventing more altercations in their village and mediating
oil-palm-related disputes with other villages.
Another crucial difference is that contract farmers tend to hire local people that they know
instead of migrant teams, at least initially. This allows members of the host community to
benefit from oil palm employment opportunities more so than in communities hosting
large agribusinesses (interviews). Among all of the surveyed households in Palm Village,
only one instance was recorded where a household member was unable to get oil palm
work because the work teams were full, and this had occurred on one of the smaller
plantations. Nevertheless, inequity in the hiring process and in the work itself, is a serious
issue. Plantation owners and/or hiring managers routinely exclude applicants based on
57 ‘Invaders’ was the term used by the oil palm growers and a few other residents in Palm Village. However, it is a highly problematic term since the purported ‘invaders’ may not see themselves as ‘invaders’ in this long-standing and highly complex conflict space.
102
personal bias and exclusive criteria. In all instances (seven total) in the survey where
candidates were not able to obtain work on an oil palm plantation, the applicants were
rejected because of a negative - or lack of - relationship with the team leaders, gender, and
in one incident a physical disability. That is, on the surface, oil palm work was seemingly
available to all of the locals who sought it. However, the applicants had to be deemed ‘able’
and ‘qualified’ by the employers, often on subjective terms.
The perceptions of ‘ability’ and ‘qualification’ for oil palm employment strongly permeate
the community, preventing some residents from even considering applying. In three cases,
respondents stated that they feel that they cannot apply for oil palm work because they are
too old. Similarly, women often do not think of oil palm plantations as an employment
option, assuming oil palm work to be ‘men’s work’. For example, a female head of an
impoverished all-female household explained why nobody in the household had tried to
obtain oil palm employment: ‘We are just women. We cannot do this kind of work’.
Therefore, while there may not be a great deal of conspicuous discrimination from the side
of the employers, there is an expectation among the community members that oil palm jobs
are only for a certain type of worker – namely a young healthy and strong male. This
expectation alone acts to marginalize many members of the community.
Women in particular find themselves in a difficult position within the oil palm labour
market in Palm Village. Only 6 out of 50 oil palm labourers within the survey in Palm
Village were female. None of them held a permanent position, and were instead
sporadically recruited for one to several days for a specific task such as preparing seedlings
in the plant nursery or collect oil palm seeds that fall on the ground during harvest. The
seed collectors are paid per sack collected, which prompts the women to bring their
children or other family members to help collect more seeds. Since harvest happens only
once every two weeks, seed collectors work just 2-4 days per month.
Child labour is a delicate subject for oil palm growers in Palm Village. Large agribusinesses
generally do not hire minors. However, refusal to hire minors is not regarded favorably by
the people in the region as many families count on their children for help with the
household income. Child labour is highly prevalent in the region, with most youth
(especially boys) beginning to work around the age of 10, with those continuing to attend
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school doing so on the weekends. One of the oil palm growers adamantly stated, ‘No, no, no.
On the farm, it is forbidden to have those who are under-aged. [They can be hurt with]
machetes, or get bitten by a snake.’ However, he then reluctantly admitted that ‘we put them
all to collect seeds. Because people want to earn money, [including] women [and children]…
but informally, voluntarily’. The dangers of the oil palm work are intensely problematic for
minors and women, however, their informal or so called ‘voluntary’ participation on the
farms leaves them with even less protection than the formal employees.
The majority of the work on oil palm farms is reserved for healthy and strong males who
are able to cope with its physical demands, while working quickly and efficiently. However,
even for male workers, permanent positions are rare. Similar to large plantations, most of
the manual labourers on the farms in Palm Village work on temporary contracts, typically
15 days at a time, trimming and taking care of the oil palm trees, fertilizing, and harvesting
the oil palm fruit. Many workers are not able to perform the tough physical labour for a
long time. Those who manage to obtain permanent jobs are usually in supervisory roles or
have less physically demanding positions such as security guards.
Table 8: Oil palm employment in Palm Village*.
Oil Palm Employment Types Viable Long Term (opinion)
Employment Type Frequency Yes No Unsure Permanent 14 35% 57% 7% Temporary 27 0% 63% 37%
Sporadic 9 0% 89% 11%
*Sample includes individuals with experience of working on oil palm in Palm Village (n=50). ‘Permanent’
employment refers to full-time (40+ hours/week) non-seasonal employment that is expected to continue;
‘Temporary’ employment constitutes short contracts (typically 15 days) usually with a chance to return;
‘Sporadic’ refers to occasional employment for one or several days without assuming that the employee will
return. Table modified from Hervas 2019.
Table 8 shows that none of the temporary or sporadic labourers felt confident in the long
term potential of their employment. Nearly everyone cited extreme physical demands of
the work and unjust pay (or a combination of the two) as their reasons. Even the workers
with permanent oil palm employment had little confidence in the long-term viability of
their jobs, with only 35% believing that they can maintain their oil palm employment in the
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foreseeable future. These were security guards and labourers in supervisory roles with
correspondingly higher wages. Payment discrepancies were prevalent, especially among
the temporary and sporadic labourers. Some workers complained that sometimes they
would not be paid for a full day of work if they did not complete their assigned task, or if
they were caught taking a break. In a few cases, the labourers experienced instances where
they were forced to work extremely long hours but were never paid for the extra hours
(Figure 7).
Figure 7: Main reasons cited for not considering oil palm employment to be viable in
the long term*.
*Sample includes responses from individuals (n=36) in Palm and Maize Villages currently working on an oil palm plantation in Palm Village.
Due to the extreme physical strain and poor working conditions, oil palm employment is
generally not desired in Palm Village if other employment options are available. Far more
common than the surveyed workers being denied employment were instances of workers
leaving their positions at the oil palm plantations, either voluntarily58 or because they were
dismissed, and not returning (see Figure 8). Only three of the 19 surveyed former oil palm
58 ‘Voluntarily’ is a contestable term here considering that many workers quit because they were faced with unfeasible demands of their employer, such as 12+ hour days of hard physical labour.
0 10 20 30 40 50 60
Work too physically taxing
Unjust pay
Excessively long hours
% of responses
105
workers were let go because there was no more work available. The most commonly cited
reasons for quitting oil palm jobs were the extreme physical demand of oil palm labour,
unjust pay, and unreasonable expectations of the employer. Many former employees
expressed that they would prefer almost any other job to oil palm work, and were not
planning to return. It should be noted, however, that in 15 out of these 19 cases, the
respondents’ households either rented or owned land, and as such were not completely
dependent on wage labour for sustenance. However, out of the remaining four landless
cases, three respondents emphasized that they would return to oil palm employment if
given the opportunity and if no other work was available. In another landless household
where an older male head currently holds oil palm employment, the female head expressed
concern that he may not be able to endure the work much longer and that the family is
worried about their future livelihood because other types of employment are scarce. The
dependency on grueling oil palm work among landless households is an alarming tendency,
particularly as the oil palm continues to expand over other agricultural land, meaning that
it is the becoming the only opportunity for wage labour in the village.
Figure 8: Main reasons given for leaving previous oil palm employment*.
*Sample includes responses from individuals (n=19) in Palm and Maize Villages who have previously worked on an oil palm plantation in Palm Village and left (modified from Hervas 2019).
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
No more work available
Work too physically taxing/unreasonable expectations
Unjust pay for extremely hard work
Pay dispute
Other (found better work, too far)
Number of responses
106
The lack of benefits or health insurance are another source of precariousness on the oil
palm farms in Palm Village. Although similar issues have been documented on large
agribusiness-owned plantations (Mingorría et al. 2014; Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Hurtado
and Sanchez 2012), some agribusiness employees have been able to obtain basic health
insurance and other benefits, particularly as agribusinesses have faced greater pressure
from government enforcement and sustainability certification bodies such as the
Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil - RSPO 59 (interviews). To date, small-medium contract
farmers have generally been unable to offer such benefits to their workers due to greater
market pressures discussed later in this chapter.
In addition to the existing sources of precariousness in oil palm jobs, the tendency of oil
palm farms in Palm Village to hire locals may be altogether short-lived. As the largest
plantation owned by OPG6 continues to expand, it has been increasingly hiring migrant
workers, with plans to employ more in the future. The migrants have been accused of
causing many problems in Palm Village and the prospect of hiring more migrants has
angered community members. In addition to taking jobs from locals, migrants have been
blamed for incidents of theft, violence, and sexual assault. Compromised public safety is an
increasing concern in Palm Village as more unfamiliar male individuals routinely linger in
the community on a temporary basis.
Overall, survey results suggest that the oil palm sector has generated local employment
opportunities in Palm Village. However, these jobs have been mostly temporary, non-
inclusive, undesirable in the long term, and otherwise precarious. Oil palm provides scant
opportunities for women, older people, or people with physical disabilities, leaving them
excluded from the oil palm economy. Furthermore, survey respondents expressed that as
the oil palm took over land in the community, some of the other agricultural employment,
including pineapple and cardamom cultivation, had disappeared. Although employment
trade-offs are difficult to confirm due to a lack of historical employment statistics in Palm
Village, the spreading oil palm inevitably limits other possibilities for land use, leaving local
59 Roundtable on Sustainable Oil Palm is a global organization that issues sustainability certificates to oil palm producers (RSPO 2016).
107
residents with fewer alternative agricultural employment options. This may come to be
particularly devastating to landless households if they become excluded from oil palm
employment. By contrast, in Maize Village, even some of the most disadvantaged
households – including all-female households and elderly households – have been able to
procure work in their neighbours’ maize fields, and have expressed greater income security
than those in Palm Village.
A commonly cited objective of cash crop proponents is the creation of linkages to other
economic sectors leading to the generation employment up-stream and down-stream in the
cash crop value chain, and stimulating secondary (i.e. processing) and tertiary (i.e. services,
sales, etc.) economies (World Bank 2007). This claim has been previously challenged in
relation to the regional economic effects of boom crop agribusinesses – namely oil palm
and sugarcane – in Guatemala, which have been observed to generate fewer agricultural
and non-agricultural up/down-stream jobs in the producer regions than traditional food
crops and their supply chains (Dürr 2016; 2017). Like Dürr ‘s (2016, 2017) studies in the
South Coast and the Verapaces, the study of Palm Village has not revealed evidence of any
significant secondary or tertiary economies in the community linked to the contract
farmers. The value chains are similar to those associated with the agribusinesses observed
by Dürr (2016). With the agricultural inputs for oil palm being produced and brought in
from elsewhere, and all of the raw fruit being transported out and sold to a processing
plant, oil palm brings little opportunity for local entrepreneurship. Much of the profit from
oil palm in Palm Village is also transferred out of the community, with the agribusiness that
purchases, processes, and redistributes the oil palm products appropriating much of the
added value (Dürr 2016). Evidently, two variety stores in Palm Village have seen very little
or no increase in sales since the arrival of oil palm, and no new businesses with linkages to
the oil palm sector have established in the community in the last few years aside from the
oil palm growers themselves. On the other hand, staple maize production is not only more
labour intensive, but also gives way for micro-enterprises (e.g. to mill and sell maize
products to the local market), providing more local jobs (Dürr 2016; 2017).
It has been shown here that oil palm has so far come with few benefits to the host
community; namely a handful of precarious, non-inclusive, underpaid, and short-lived jobs.
108
At the same time, it has pushed out other types of agriculture, and continues to threaten
maize production with growing pressure on land. The development implications of these
trends are worrisome, amounting to increasing dependence of the host community on oil
palm, marginalization of those excluded from oil palm labour, and the looming decline of
the agricultural job pool available to locals as more work is distributed to migrants.
4.9 Oil palm and outcomes for household income
The introduction of oil palm into Palm Village has had a largely positive impact on income
and wages at the household level60 (for those participating in oil palm employment), as
well as the community as a whole. Households in Palm Village whose primary source of
monetary income61 is oil palm work had a slightly higher income than those who relied on
other agricultural wage labour, which mainly consists of work on other crops in the region.
No significant difference in income between these two groups was found in Maize Village.
However, 73% of the households with a family member currently working on an oil palm
plantation in Palm Village experienced an increase in their annual household income as a
result of the oil palm employment62. Some of the oil palm workers received a substantially
higher day wage than they had in their previous job (up to 50% increase). These results
are consistent with another study from the Polochic Valley of eastern Guatemala, where oil
palm employment was found to increase household income (Mingorría et al. 2014).
60 Calculating and comparing household income can be problematic in this study for several reasons. First, the job market in the study region is highly dynamic due to the recent establishment of new industries (e.g. petroleum wells) and the temporary nature of many jobs. It is common for a household member to work one type of job for a period of time (e.g. a few weeks or months) before moving to another, or even work two or three jobs simultaneously depending on the immediate circumstances and the needs of the household and job availability. Secondly, total household income also depends on other factors, including the composition of the household. For example, if the household has a child who has become old enough to work, their income will increase. Given these labour market characteristics, the impact of oil palm on income in this study is discussed in terms of changes in day wages and current income patterns with the assumption that these can quickly change.
61 Here, income or monetary income excludes any non-monetary earnings types such as crops grown for household consumption.
62 Oil palm farm owners who work on their own plantations were not counted as employees of their operation in the survey.
109
Though the increase in household income due to oil palm labour seems a positive outcome,
only about 30% of the households in Palm Village depend primarily on oil palm labour (for
>50% of total monetary household income) with the remaining two-thirds relying more
heavily on other income sources. Furthermore, of the households participating in oil palm
employment to some degree, only about a third rely completely or almost completely (for
>80% of total monetary household income) on oil palm wages, while other households
supplement a significant portion of their income with wages from other agricultural and
non-agricultural jobs and sale of crops from their owned or rented plots. Also, about 85%
of the households participating in oil palm labour in Palm Village continue to produce
maize for their own consumption and have expressed the intention to continue growing
maize.
These results illustrate that even though oil palm is an important source of employment in
Palm Village, with nearly 75% of households currently participating or having recently
participated in oil palm employment, other sources of income remain key in sustaining the
majority of the households in the community, including most of the households
participating in oil palm employment. The results also highlight the continued importance
of subsistence agriculture in the oil palm-dominated community as a means of
supplementing income and improving household food security, especially given the
precarious and non-inclusive nature of oil palm work. The implications of oil palm and
maize cultivation on food security are discussed in Chapter 5.
4.10 Oil palm and outcomes for wages
Wages on agribusiness-owned oil palm plantations have been a contentious issue in
Guatemala, as they have largely lagged behind the country’s minimum wage legislation
(Hurtado and Sanchez 2012). The case of contract farmers in Palm Village is not much
different. The average oil palm day wage on the contract farms in the village was 59 Q63
(standard deviation = 14) at the time of the survey in 2014-15, with manual labourers
earning between 40 and 60 Q/day (mean 52+-5.9 Q/day). This was substantially lower
63 About 7.8 USD, based on 1 USD = 7.6 Q exchange rate in December 2015.
110
than the country’s legal agricultural minimum of 74.9 Q/day (in 2014). Wage data from
large oil palm agribusinesses in nearby Sayaxché from Hurtado and Sanchez (2012), show
similar day wages in 2010: 50 Q/day for manual labourer and 60-80 Q/day for a worker in
a supervisory role. Interview responses from Palm and Maize Villages suggest that wages
on large plantations, at least in some parts of Guatemala, may have gone up since 2010 and
are generally higher than those on smallholder palm farms, although more definitive data is
needed to confirm this.
Perhaps a more striking outcome is that the introduction of oil palm in Palm Village had
caused an overall increase in agricultural day wages in the community. Survey participants
and community leaders in Palm Village indicated that before oil palm cultivation began in
the community around 2007, the average agricultural day wage was about 30-40 Q/day.
Upon establishment, the oil palm growers began to offer higher wages to attract workers.
As a result, other employers had to match these day wages to continue operations.
Interestingly, this effect did not occur in the nearby Maize Village, where the average
agricultural day wage continues to be around 45 Q/day, which is about 15% lower than
agricultural wages in Palm Village.
The increase in average day wages in Palm Village has been beneficial for households that
are dependent on wage work and able to obtain jobs, but problematic for farmers who rely
on day labourers to produce maize for household consumption. Dependence on hired
labourers is particularly common among households with labour constraints, such as
female-headed households or the elderly. A rise in average wages has increased economic
pressure on these vulnerable households by adding to the already high labour costs of
subsistence farming. This issue is further discussed in Chapter 5 in challenging the
common claim made by cash crop proponents that higher wages translate to higher food
security in rural regions (Deininger et al. 2011, World Bank 2007).
4.11 Oil palm contract farming and future prospects for development
A prevalent concern with regard to smaller-scale oil palm production – such as that seen
with the contract farmers in Palm Village – is the eventual inability to compete with large
111
agribusinesses that have access to more efficient technology, access to credit, and other
facilities (De Schutter 2011). While contract farmers in this thesis are not in direct
competition with their contracting agribusiness, they are forced to contend with rising
production costs and fluctuating prices on their product. The prices of oil palm are, in turn,
partly determined by the potentially lower costs of large-scale, capital intensive producers.
Thus, it was the smaller producers in particular, who struggled to stay in business when oil
palm and petroleum prices collapsed from their peak in 2008. Survey and interview
results show that the smaller oil palm producers have been ill positioned to weather the
global fluctuations in petroleum prices, which determine the sale price of their oil palm
fruit according to their contract with Palmas del Ixcán 64. Between 2006 and 2016, the
average annual variation in petroleum prices has been about 35%, with 5 of the 10 years
seeing price drops of over 40% within a single year (Figure 9). Similarly, the international
price of crude palm oil varied between 555 USD and 995 USD per metric tonne between
2006 and 2009, peaking at 1290 USD/MT before sliding to 575 USD by 2015. Both oil palm
and petroleum prices had fallen from their peak in 2008 when ProPalma went into effect.
Massive price fluctuations create uncertainty for farmers, making it difficult to budget and
plan for the appropriate use of inputs and to hire permanent labourers.
64 As discussed in Chapter 3, discrepancies exist with respect to the calculation of oil palm sale price. According to Alonso-Fradejas (personal communication), growers receive 14% of the CIF Rotterdam price for their fruit (Palm Oil Analytics 2018). However, two oil palm growers in Palm Village claimed that the fruit price is calculated based on petroleum price. The reason for the discrepancy is unclear, but may be due to variations in contract terms with Palmas del Ixcan and/or ADINC, or misunderstanding and/or misrepresentation of the pricing scheme.
112
Figure 9: International Prices of Crude Oil and Palm Oil (1990-2018). Source: World
Bank Commodity Price Data
A 7 hectare oil palm farm in Palm Village profits between $8,500 and $13,000 USD
annually, assuming a good harvest and a relatively high price for oil palm fruit (approx. 500
Q/tonne of fruit). Although $8000+ USD is considered a sizable family income in the
region, for an oil palm producer it is not guaranteed since it is contingent upon a broad
range of factors, from commodity prices, to the cost of fertilizer and transport, to
environmental variables such as rainfall and crop disease. Small oil palm producers (7 ha)
in Palm Village are particularly sensitive to falls in the fruit price, where even a 5% drop in
revenue can result in a profit drop of up to 14%65. Furthermore, the cost of hiring workers
for these small produces makes up 30-40% of the total operating expenses, with fertilizer
constituting much of the remaining cost. Because oil palm harvest size and quality is
extremely dependent on fertilizer, this expense remains more or less constant, while
65 Calculated from survey data for OPG1, OPG2, and OPG3.
0.00
20.00
40.00
60.00
80.00
100.00
120.00
140.00
0.00
200.00
400.00
600.00
800.00
1000.00
1200.00
1400.00
199
0
199
1
199
2
199
3
199
4
199
5
199
6
199
7
199
8
199
9
200
0
200
1
200
2
200
3
200
4
200
5
200
6
200
7
200
8
200
9
201
0
201
1
201
2
201
3
201
4
201
5
201
6
201
7
201
8
Cru
de
Oil
Pri
ce (
US
D/b
bl)
Pal
m O
il P
rice
(U
SD
/mt)
Palm Oil Price (USD/mt) Crude Oil Price (USD/bbl)
113
producers only cut back on labour costs when necessary (e.g. if palm oil prices drop
significantly). It is not surprising then that for small oil palm producers, not only is it cost-
prohibitive to offer permanent full-time jobs (much less benefits), but in hard times they
tend to cut even the temporary jobs, turning instead to family labour. Furthermore, given
the current input and fruit price volatility, an introduction of a 25% wage increase (which would
take the current oil palm wages in Palm Village up to the legal agricultural minimum) would
render the small producers unviable. Unless fruit prices rise substantially, small producers
would simply not be able to afford to pay their labourers more or to offer more job security.
The larger contract producer in Palm Village – OPG6 – takes a similar cost-reduction
strategy of saving on labour. As he expanded his operations, he began to hire more and
more migrants on short contracts. While this is upsetting to the residents of Palm Village,
from the perspective of OPG6, hiring migrants may well be necessary given the extremely
physical nature of the required work (which many are not able to do for a long time), and
the increasing risks from market volatility66. OPG6 is arguably more shielded from
insolvency than the smaller producers in Palm Village, due to the sheer volume of his
production (and possibly other sources of wealth). The smaller producers, having fewer
assets to insulate themselves, find themselves vulnerable to adverse changes in oil palm
and input markets, and may well face dispossession in the near future. One of the 7-ha oil
palm growers had already considered cutting down and replacing oil palm with another
crop. He has not yet done so because this endeavour would require a substantial
investment and carry its own risks. Of particular concern is that the network of roots left
by oil palm trees are said to make it extremely difficult to cultivate crops on the land once
the palm trees are gone.
These results are in support of earlier studies examining labour relations in contract
farming. The oil palm farmers’ subordinate position with regard to the other actors in the
value chain not only limits their income, but also their production choices. Following
Glover and Kusterer (1990), the lack of ‘exit’ alternatives for struggling contract farmers
66 Further research is needed to evaluate other poorly understood risks such as climate change.
114
further exacerbates their vulnerability and exploitation. The viability of the oil palm
contract farmers is thereby reflective of the broader dynamic of functional dualism,
wherein the viability of capitalist development is dependent on the ability to pay semi-
proletarianized peasants low wages. Relatedly, the contracts integrate oil palm farmers
into market dynamics that compel them to exploit their employees and household labour
(e.g. children helping with seed collection). In other words, the vulnerability of the oil palm
contract farmers spills over onto their workforce, which is forced to contend with low
wages, precarious working conditions, and minimal recourse for resolving problems with
their employers (Oya 2012; De Schutter 2011b; Glover and Kusterer 1990).
These findings suggest that there is likely no ‘quick fix’ for improving the labour conditions
on oil palm contract farms, because worker exploitation and low pay seem to be the
consequences of the broader oil palm market conditions, within which the contract farmers
are heavily constrained by the unfavourable terms of their incorporation into the
globalized oil palm value chain. For the host community, this spells a very risky future,
since the more the oil palm expands, the more it eliminates other types of agricultural
work, the more Palm Village as a whole becomes reliant on oil palm and correspondingly
vulnerable to global market volatility. This is particularly detrimental to the individuals
and households that are already excluded from oil palm labour, or may become excluded in
the future. These results put under serious question whether there is, in fact, any future
development potential from oil palm, beyond the precarious jobs that it currently provides,
some of which are already slated for migrants.
4.12 Discussion
The results discussed in this chapter challenge the official narrative that the promotion of
oil palm contract farming in northern Guatemala had meaningful development impacts in
the host communities. The benefits from employment and increased wages have been
limited and short-lived for most of the households participating in oil palm labour, and
non-existent for excluded households. Pushing up day wages has also put additional
pressure on subsistence farmers, especially the vulnerable households with labour
constraints. Furthermore, the initial establishment of smallholder oil palm cultivation
through ProRural has not stopped peasant land sales in Palm Village, and, paradoxically,
115
the current oil palm expansion is accelerating land sales as more plots become surrounded
by oil palm. At the same time, the relatively smaller oil palm producers are particularly
vulnerable to global commodity price fluctuations, and their vulnerability directly affects
their employees and their employees’ households. Furthermore, the future development
possibilities in the host community are put at risk as other livelihood options are
extinguished by the expanding oil palm.
Surrounding peasant land parcels by oil palm plantations is a known tactic frequently
deployed by oil palm agribusinesses to force peasants to sell land (Mingorría et al. 2014;
Guereña and Zepeda 2013). Earlier studies have shown that this strategy was facilitated by
the land titling process that was mandated in the 1996 Peace Accords (Gauster and Isakson
2007). The regularization of the land market facilitated the commodification of land and
rendered many already vulnerable peasants to pressure from agribusinesses and other
extractive industries, particularly in resource-rich regions of Guatemala. The same had
evidently occurred in Palm Village. As a representative of a local NGO put it:
‘The issue is that the collective agrarian heritage has been lost… now individual or private
owners are no longer a group or collective… now everyone cares for their own skin… although
they do community activities [and they have] COCODEs, they do not have the community
figure anymore. Each one is an individual owner.’
At the same time: ‘here, we are illiterate – eighty something percent, how would it not affect
the territory? […] they live day by day. They are not like the ones who still have one hundred
quetzals and know that tomorrow they are still going to eat. They do not even have those
hundred quetzals for the next day’.
In doing nothing to address the causes of poverty and social marginalization of the largely
indigenous peasant population, land regularization merely expedited land transfer to the
well-off class. In some cases, the titling process itself was used as a means of transferring
land to a new owner (Gauster and Isakson 2007). In other cases, a lack of secure land title
had been a factor in mass evictions of peasants in favour of agribusiness-owned plantations
(Alonso-Fradejas 2015). While it is not a crippling issue for a wealthy and well-connected
land owner, the lengthy, expensive, and logistically and bureaucratically difficult titling
116
process has been a major impediment for vulnerable indigenous peasants to securing land
rights, putting them at further risk of losing their land to more powerful players.
It is also shown in this thesis that pressuring peasants to sell land via surrounding is a
tactic that is not unique to large agribusinesses, and can just as well occur in an area with
small-medium-scale contract producers. Land-grabbing by smallholders has been
witnessed in the Southeast Asian oil palm boom, especially in ‘frontier’ regions, where the
boom provided an impetus for various actors to bid for the control of newly valuable land67
(Hall 2011; Hall et al. 2011). Many Southeast Asian oil palm smallholders were aided by
neo-liberal joint government/private corporation schemes through the mid-1990s, similar
to Guatemala’s ProRural. In their work on Southeast Asian crop booms, Hall, Hirsch, and Li
(2011) describe uncannily similar rural development narratives deployed by the
proponents of these boom crop promotion programs, where the pro-poor claims
essentially provided a basis to legitimize the boom-induced exclusion of natives from the
land. While more research is needed to further understand the complexities of land
transfer processes in Lachuá, it is clear that oil palm promotion favoured the better-off
farmers who were capable of footing the costs and managing the risks of initiating an oil
palm plantation, and even more so upon the cancellation of ProRural. The poorer farmers
were either barred by the high start-up costs of oil palm cultivation, or suffered
tremendous losses when ProRural funds were transferred to and were mismanaged by the
ADINC association (interviews; Solis et al 2013).
The tensions caused by the politics of land registration had further complicated the issue.
Up until recently, most of the land transactions (listed in Tables 6 and 7) that took place in
Palm and Maize Villages involved unregistered land or land in the long process of
registration. In an interview, a community leader who was among the founders of Maize
Village explained that the burdensome land legalization process took 30 years to complete.
During those three decades, other families had arrived in the community who were not
part of the initial land titling application. Some ended up purchasing land (illegally, in
67 The land acquisition pattern by wealthier smallholders is also a part of the classic model of socio-economic differentiation in the countryside (c.f. Kautsky 1988; Lenin 1920)
117
technical terms) from the founding families, renting, or remaining landless. Furthermore,
as is the common case in Guatemala, some of the smaller parcels that are deemed too
expensive to legally register can remain in legal limbo indefinitely (Lastarria-Cornhiel,
2003). Evidently, not all of the oil palm growers in this study operate on fully registered
land. In this context, ProRural program may have served as an important ally for oil palm
agribusinesses in a region fraught with land tenure disputes, as it helped to convert large
tracts of land to oil palm while off-loading any legal risks from the agribusinesses. In other
words, agribusinesses such as Palmas del Ixcán managed to solidify their presence on the
land via contract farms, thus avoiding having to purchase the land and expose themselves
to possible land disputes. Thus, in addition to the exploitative relationship with the
agribusiness (c.f. Watts 1990; Little and Watts 1994), the oil palm farmers in Palm Village
are also vulnerable to legal risks involving land.
The results of this study show that the anti-land-sale pretence of ProRural is not
substantiated. Instead, the vulnerable peasants were made more vulnerable through the
increased pressure on land in this frontier region, on top of the long-standing issues of
poverty, social and political marginalization, and insecure tenure. Thus, ProRural and the
oil palm production that it triggered, appears to have set off a new cycle of peasant
dispossession in Palm Village, this time geared specifically towards the oil palm sector.
This case study problematizes the broader debate on market-based poverty-alleviation
strategies that are centered on cash-crop promotion to contract farmers. Similar to Li’s
(2011) findings in Southeast Asia, the prospects are limited with respect to the protection
of labour interests in smallholder oil palm cultivation in Guatemala, in the face of the
volatile and competitive global markets. From this perspective, ProRural, among other
market-based development strategies, can be criticized for their lack of attention to labour
as well as their narrow, short-sighted, and non-inclusive vision of rural development.
Supporting earlier critiques (Li 2011; McCarthy 2010), it is suggested here that any
government intervention to promote a cash crop, especially oil palm with its physiological
and geo-political peculiarities, must at the absolute minimum be mindful of the smallholder
contracting terms with bigger players and the long-term implications for labour and
livelihoods in the host communities. Furthermore, in the case of the Guatemalan northern
118
lowlands, this study highlights the need to support subsistence farming and the production
of staple crops, as these continue to be key for sustaining impoverished households and
providing employment, especially for those excluded from oil palm work (c.f. Dürr 2016).
The instability of global markets warrants a special emphasis on the diversification of
production in order to buffer the community from severe price and/or demand shocks in a
particular sector (c.f. Ellis 1993). However, as will be elaborated in Chapter 7,
diversification is not a simple proposition, and must be approached with care.
A comprehensive rural development strategy needs to address the core reasons for land
sales, which include pressures from predatory buyers and general poverty. Moreover, cash
crops alone do not address other important aspects of development such as access to
education and healthcare, and the maintenance of ecological resources. In any scenario,
the introduction of a cash crop cannot ‘solve’ the long-standing socio-economic problems
emanating from a history of indigenous oppression, dispossession, and conflict. Indeed,
their introduction to an uneven socio-economic context has the potential to exacerbate
underlying inequalities.
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Chapter 5
Oil Palm Expansion and Staple Food Access
5.1 Introduction
The expansion and intensification of cash crops has long been the prescription of choice for
the enhancing food security in the global South (World Bank 2007, 2011; Conroy et al.
1996). The food security objective is often folded into cash crop promotion programs,
usually as an implicit consequence of employment and income generation leading to
improved food entitlements (c.f. Sen 1981). The National Food Security Strategy (PESAN
2009) in Guatemala deployed a similar rationale for promoting oil palm, as well as other
crops, through programs such as ProRural.
To date, the empirical evidence for the effectiveness of such programs and policies remains
thin, especially with regard to the connections between income, employment, and food
access in crop producing regions. The relationship between the presence of cash crops in a
community and food access for beneficiaries and non-beneficiaries of production and/or
employment is a particularly under-researched topic. A key source of complexity is that
cash crop expansion tends to be coupled with the displacement of existing small-scale
production of staple crops, which can raise food insecurity for some portions of the local
population (Anderman et al. 2014; Kamoyo et al. 2015; Negash and Swinnen 2013;
Komarek 2010).
In the previous chapter it was shown that oil palm expansion in Palm Village has displaced
staple maize farming to some degree, with more displacement likely in the future.
However, similar to findings of previous studies (Mingorría et al. 2014; Ofosu-Budu and
Sarpong 2013; Li 2011; Rist et al. 2010), oil palm did improve incomes for the producers
and their waged employees to some degree, although employment has been generally
precarious and not accessible for many members of the community. Moreover, it has been
observed that the establishment of oil palm pushed up agricultural wages in Palm Village,
including wages for day labourers on subsistence maize plots.
120
This chapter goes further to examine how the socio-economic changes brought by the oil
palm have impacted local food access, particularly to staple maize. Maize was chosen as
the analytical focus due to its high prevalence in local diets as well its cultural and spiritual
importance for the indigenous Maya. Rural Guatemalans consume an average of 454 grams
(or 1 lb.) of maize per day; the grain accounts for 72% of calories and 82% of protein
consumed (Fuentes et al. 2005; Immink and Alarcon 1992).68 Other studies have observed
that Guatemalan peasants tend to persist in their efforts to grow maize for household
consumption (Isakson 2009), and that maize consumption tends to remain relatively
constant regardless of households’ changes in employment and income (Mingorría et al.
2014). The relationship between oil palm in the community and maize provisioning
dynamics are unpacked in this chapter. Distinctions are made between the impacts on
market provisioning (purchasing) and self-provisioning (growing some or all) of the
consumed staple maize with implications for access in different types of households -
namely, those depending on oil palm employment and those that do not (and/or are
excluded from it).
Drawing upon survey data, this chapter is focused on household access to food and how it
may be impacted by employment (both on and off oil palm), income, and various aspects of
maize cultivation, including cost factors. Participants were asked whether, and how often,
they experience uncertainty regarding food access – i.e. times when they do not know that
they will have food to eat during a given week or possibly go without food. Households
whose responds reported that they do not generally experience food uncertainty are
classified as having ‘regular food access’ in this analysis, while households who responded
that they experience food uncertainty one or more weeks per year are classified as having
‘irregular food access’. While food access is considered in general, special attention is
allotted to access to maize, since it is a key component of the local diet and is the main
staple food grown in the region. The emphasis in the analysis is on the regularity and
continuity of food access throughout different circumstances and different times of the
68 When urban areas are considered, maize is the source of 65% of the carbohydrates and 71% of the protein
in Guatemalan diets.
121
year, as the bare minimum to avoid hunger. However, some households categorized as
having ‘regular food access’ may be constricted in the variety and nutritional quality of
foods that they are able to regularly obtain, even if they may not perceive this to be the
case. The variety, nutrition, and cultural significance of food are examined in the following
chapter.
The results in this chapter demonstrate that food access benefits are limited even for the
households that have experienced an increase in income due to oil palm employment, while
the cultivation of maize continues to be an important pillar for household food access. At
the same time, oil palm expansion is increasingly undermining maize production, which
has long served as the foundation of local food security, especially as a ‘safety net’ for food
access in a region fraught with precarious employment.
5.2 Results
5.2.1 Food access, maize cultivation and harvest size
Survey results indicate that the households in Maize Village are overall significantly more
confident in their food access than in Palm Village (Figure 10). Nearly 70% of the surveyed
households in Maize Village claim that they do not typically experience a lack of food in the
household or uncertainty with regard to having food access at different times of the year.
In contrast, about half of the surveyed households in Palm Village experience regular food
gaps (compared to 23% in Maize Village), ranging between twice a year (e.g. during
between-harvest periods) to multiple times a month primarily due to irregular or uncertain
job prospects.
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Figure 10: Confidence in food access by community*.
*Maize Village has higher rates of regular food access than Palm Village.
Food access in both communities was significantly associated with growing maize (Table
9). Out of those who do not grow maize, 70% were not confident in the regularity of their
food access, compared to 45% of those who do grow maize for household consumption.
The difference in access is more pronounced in Palm Village, where nearly 90% of non-
maize-producing households expressed uncertainty about regular food access, though
many maize growers (63%) were also faced with periodic food gaps, suggesting that there
are other important variables that shape access to food in the village.
As one might expect, food access is associated with a larger average harvest size (Table 9),
though the difference in food access is only statistically significant between small and
medium harvests in Maize Village. Small harvests in both communities are usually
consumed in the households, while a portion of the medium and large harvests is typically
sold on the market, generating monetary income. The difference in food access between
small and medium harvest in Maize Village likely reflects the additional access to income
0%
10%
20%
30%
40%
50%
60%
70%
80%
Regular uncertainty ofhaving food access
Occasional uncertainty ofhaving food access
Confident of having foodaccess
% o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Palm Village Maize Village
123
from a medium (as opposed to small) harvest69. No significant relationship was found
between food access and per-unit maize production cost, as further discussed below.
Table 9: Average annual maize harvest and food access*.
*Category of average maize harvest size (grains stripped from cob, i.e. ‘shelled’): small= 700kg or less; medium = 700kg - 1800kg; large = 1800kg or more. Exact harvest size may fluctuate from year to year depending on various factors. a Note that the sample of non-producers of maize is small, especially in Maize Village (n=8), so the aggregated (both villages) sample comparison is a better indicator in this case.
69 Some of the revenue from maize sales may be used to purchase other food items, which would explain the positive correlation between harvest size and food security.
Total Maize and Palm Village Palm Village Maize Village Food Access Food Access Food Access
Irregular Regular Irregular Regular Irregular Regular Grows maize for
consumption (n=65) 45% 55% 63% 42% 31% 69%
Does not grow maize for consumption
(n=17)
70% 30% 89% 11% 50% 50%
Small harvest (n=21) 62% 38% 75% 25% 54% 46%
Medium harvest (n=27) 41% 59% 60% 40% 17% 83% Large harvest (n=12) 33% 67% 50% 50% 17% 83%
Kruskal-Wallis rank sum tests for differences in food access between populations (low p-values, in bold, correspond to significant differences in food access between the given groups)
Both Villages p-value
Palm Village p-value
Maize Village p-value
Grows vs. does not grow maize for consumption a
0.0581 0.0859 0.3261
Small, Medium, and Large Harvests 0.2076 0.6271 0.0992 Small and Medium Harvests 0.1500 0.4817 0.0580
Small and Large Harvests 0.1198 0.3519 0.1375 Medium and Large Harvests 0.6649 0.6831 1
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5.2.2 Land holding size
Figure 11: Confidence in food access by size of productive land holding (rented or
owned) in Palm Village and Maize Village*.
*Number values inside the bars correspond to the number of households who earn income from oil palm wage labour within each category. Marginal farmers are households with 0.7ha in cultivation or less; small farmers cultivate on between 0.7ha and 2.8ha; medium farmers between 2.8ha and 5.6ha; and large farmers cultivate on more than 5.6ha of land (c.f. ENCOVI 2006; De Janvry and Sadoulet 2010). Maize is the most commonly cultivated crop (others include beans, peanuts, cardamom, and fruits); three oil palm growers are included in the ‘large producers’ category.
Figure 11 illustrates how access to food varies according to farm size across the two
villages. The most prominent trend is that irregularity of food access is more prevalent in
Palm Village than in Maize Village in all categories of landholding size. A significant
difference is notable in the small and marginal producer categories – the most common
farm sizes in rural Guatemala (De Janvry and Sadoulet 2010) - where far smaller portion of
3
1
1
2 5
2
1
2
0
5
10
15
20
25
30
Large Producers Medium Producers Small Producers Marginal Producers Landless
Res
po
nd
ent
Ho
use
ho
lds
Palm Village - Food Secure Palm Village - Food Insecure
Maize Village - Food Secure Maize Village - Food Insecure
125
small and marginal producers suffer from irregular food access in Maize Village (29% and
30% respectively) than in Palm Village (57% and 81% respectively). All but one of the
households that rely on oil palm wage labour for the majority of their income are small,
marginal, or landless households. The majority of the households that are dependent on oil
palm wages in Palm Village have irregular food access, while the three oil palm reliant
households in Maize Village do not typically experience irregular food access.
5.2.3 Land tenure
Figure 12: Land tenure and food access*.
*Total (p=0.0634); Palm Village (p=0.04678); Maize Village (p=0.3332) K-W tests.
Land tenure is also associated with regularity of food access. As illustrated in Figure 12,
households that own their land are generally more confident about their ability to access
food than renters. In Palm Village, over two-thirds of land renters have irregular food
access compared to about 43% of landowners. In Maize Village, nearly 80% of landowners
felt confident in having regular food access compared to 60% of renters, however the
difference in Maize Village is not statistically significant given the respective variations. As
discussed later, the strong association between food access and land tenure in Palm Village
is attributable to the growing threat of displacement by the expanding oil palm sector.
0%
20%
40%
60%
80%
100%
Owned Rented
Total Both Villages
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
0%
20%
40%
60%
80%
100%
Owned Rented
Palm Village
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
0%
20%
40%
60%
80%
100%
Owned Rented
Maize Village
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
126
5.2.4 Employment
Similar to land, the security of employment is also associated with access to food. Figure 13
shows that households whose members hold what they consider to be permanent jobs
have more regular access to food than those with temporary employment. In Palm Village
over 78% of households with temporary employment suffered from irregular food access
compared to 58% of households with permanent employment. In Maize Village, the
difference in food access between households with temporary employment (61% regular
access) and permanent employment (80% regular access) was not as large.
Figure 13: Food access and employment type (permanent or temporary) of the main
employment-based income source in the household*.
*Households without significant employment income are excluded (e.g. those whose income comes from crop sales, savings, or remittances).
Other household characteristics were tested for their significance to regularity of food
access. Somewhat surprisingly, the household demographics including the number of
working age males (10 – 65 years old70) in the household and the ratios of dependents to
70 Males typically begin to work at age 10 in the study region.
0
10
20
30
40
50
PermanentJob
TemporaryJob
Nu
mb
er o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Total Both Villages
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
0
5
10
15
20
PermanentJob
TemporaryJob
Nu
mb
er o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Palm Village
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
0
5
10
15
20
25
PermanentJob
TemporaryJob
Nu
mb
er o
f re
spo
nd
ent
ho
use
ho
lds
Maize Village
Irregular Food Access
Regular Food Access
127
work age males and work age adults, were not significant determinants of household food
access overall. However, instances were observed where household food access improved
as male children grew up and started working, and decreased in older households that
were having trouble finding and/or maintaining work because of age.
5.2.5 Ten-year changes in food access
Survey respondents were asked to compare their current household food access to ten
years ago (i.e. better, worse, or the same) and describe the reasons for the changes. The
ten-year time frame corresponds to when the oil palm was first established in the region,
including Palm Village, and had begun to spread.
Table 10: Change in food access over 10 years*/
Palm Village Maize Village HH relies on oil palm wage
labour for most (>50%) of HH income
Total (39 HH)
Total (40 HH)
Change in food access
perception over the last 10
years
no (25 HH) yes (14 HH) Better food access now
20% 50% 31% 8%
Worse food access now
32% 29% 29% 15%
No change 48% 21% 40% 77% p < 0.05 Kruskal-Wallis changes in food uncertainty in
Palm Village by reliance on oil palm wage labour
p < 0.01 Kruskal-Wallis differences in food uncertainty by community
*Better food access refers to fewer incidences of food access uncertainty periods now compared to ten years
ago. Oil palm growers are excluded.
Table 10 shows that the emergence of oil palm in Palm Village is associated with a dramatic
split in community members’ ability access food. While nearly a third of the households
reported improved food access, about the same number of households complained of
declining access. This stands in stark contrast with Maize Village, where the vast majority
(77%) of the surveyed households in Maize Village have not experienced any changes in
food access.
128
Whether a Palm Village household’s access to food has changed over the past decade is
strongly associated with the households’ reliance on oil palm wages. Households deriving
most (>50%) of their income from wage labour on oil palm farms fared differently
depending on the conditions of their current oil palm employment, their previous
employment situation, and other household characteristics. Most of the households in
Palm Village that experienced an increase in food access were those relying on oil palm
employment. Meanwhile, most of their neighbours for whom access had worsened relied
upon non-oil palm income sources, including households that were excluded from oil palm
employment. While this might imply that the development of oil palm has positively
contributed to food access in the village, it is important to recognize that the good-fortune
of some has also been the misfortune of others. Furthermore, as discussed below,
‘improved’ food access does not mean that a household is now ‘food secure’.
Among the households in Palm Village whose access to food access has remained the same
over the past 10 years, regardless of whether or not they were dependent upon income
from oil palm, most were food-secure to begin with and they had other sources of income
that insure their continued access to food. These households either (i) had members with
permanent and relatively well-paying jobs, including caporales71 on oil palm plantations,
school teachers and workers at the electrical company or other businesses; (ii) received
remittances from family members in large cities or abroad; or (iii) had fall-back savings
from previous work, family, or land sales.
Of the oil palm-reliant households whose food access has improved in the last ten years,
almost all had a member with a permanent oil palm job. In two cases, family member(s)
had temporary job(s), but with some assurance of continued employment72. However,
even though these households had seen an improvement in their food access, all except one
household still remained food insecure, with most households experiencing regular food
71 A caporal typically manages the work process and is in charge of worker recruitment on the plantation.
72 In one of the cases, the worker has a good relationship with the plantation owner who provides regular employment. In the second case the household has three work age males with oil palm employment with the assumption that at least one will have work at a given time.
129
gaps (twice a year or more). All, except two landless households, grew maize for
consumption on either owned or rented land.
Of the non-palm-reliant households, those whose food access had improved attribute the
improvement to finding better jobs (e.g. teacher) or kids growing up and helping with
household income. Despite the improvements, almost all still had irregular access to food.
In the oil palm-reliant households whose food access had worsened in the last ten years,
two had temporary and two had permanent oil palm jobs, including an older household
where the male oil palm employee was finding the work more and more difficult to endure
physically. All of them attributed their decreased food security on either increased food
prices, or on deteriorating fall-back options for lack of employment including: poor harvest,
less land available for maize in the community as a result of oil palm expansion, and the
loss of forests (due to expanding oil palm) where they had previously sourced food.
The non-palm-reliant households reporting worsened food access in the last ten years
attributed their hardship to three causes, all of which were at least partially related to the
introduction of oil palm. They included (i) increased difficulty in finding work, (ii) higher
food prices, and (iii) having to purchase more goods (e.g. food, firewood) instead of getting
them from forests, which have since been displaced. In three cases, the households were
excluded from oil palm work due to old age or illness/injury and had fewer options for
employment because the oil palm displaced other types of agricultural activities with less
physically demanding labour (e.g. maize, cardamom). All of these households had insecure
food access and relied on temporary or sporadic jobs.
Overall, food access remains a pervasive problem in Palm Village, even in instances where
access has improved over the last ten years. Improvement has been primarily contingent
upon obtaining reliable permanent employment, whether on oil palm farms or elsewhere.
However, oil palm provides mostly temporary and precarious employment, and at the
expense of other types of agricultural employment (as it displaces other crops),
deforestation, and the associated loss of forest-based livelihood activities.
130
5.2.6 Oil palm expansion and staple crop displacement
The previous chapter (Chapter 4) showed that that oil palm in the oil-palm dominated
community has displaced and continues to displace staple maize cultivation. While land
transactions occurred for various reasons prior to the adoption of oil palm around 2007,
there has since been a significant increase in land sales, nearly all of which have been
geared towards oil palm. Furthermore, as some oil palm growers expanded their farms,
they occasionally surrounded the parcels of their neighbours, hindering their passage, and
ultimately exerting tremendous pressure on the peasant owners to sell their parcels. While
surrounding parcels is a well-known tactic used by large agribusinesses to pressure
peasants into selling their land, this and other recent studies found that small-medium
contract farmers can also deploy a similar strategy as they seek to capture land in frontier
conditions (Guereña and Zepeda 2013; Hall et al. 2011).
In Palm Village, the rapid acquisition of land by palm growers has reduced the amount of
land devoted to maize while increasing pressure on the remaining land.. The encroaching
oil palm farms have also occupied land that was once used to cultivate other cash crops like
pineapple and cardamom, and displaced tropical rainforests that had traditionally been an
important source of firewood and foods such as herbs, mushrooms, fruits, and game meat.
For many community members, though, the loss of maize-land poses the greatest challenge
to their food security. Nearly three-quarters (72%) of the households in Palm Village
expressed greater difficulty in cultivating maize since the onset of the oil palm boom, citing
the declining availability of land as the main reason. As a result, some community
members have been forced to stay on less-productive land, over-exploit land, travel longer
distances to their parcels, and simply have fewer options for improving or altering their
maize cultivation (Figure 14).
In the neighbouring Maize Village, nearly a third of respondents maintained that the
cultivation of maize had not become more difficult over the past decade, compared to only
15% in Palm Village. While 57% of Maize Village households have indeed also faced
increasing difficulty in growing maize and beans over the past decade, they did not cite the
decreasing availability of land that was such a prominent concern in Palm Village. Instead,
131
they were preoccupied with the challenges associated with the availability and cost of
fertilizer, the drying of land, crop disease, and difficulty in acquiring seeds.
Figure 14: Main reasons for increased difficulty in growing staple crops over the last
10 years*.
*34 respondent households in Palm Village and 30 in Maize Village (some respondents mentioned more than one reason).
5.2.7 Cost of maize production
The connections between household food access, waged employment and self-provisioning
are complex since both employment and maize cultivation are important for sustained food
access. Self-provisioned maize continues to be an important household food source in both
communities, and is an important fall-back resource in times of inadequate employment.
Furthermore, many of the surveyed households that did not participate in oil palm
employment relied on wage labour on neighbouring maize fields. Correspondingly, many
subsistence maize farmers depended on hired day labourers especially during key points in
the growing cycle, such as harvest time.
In the previous section, it was shown that increased pressure on land is a clear
consequence of oil palm expansion and is a mounting issue for local maize cultivation.
0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80
Less Land
Fertilizer
Soil Moisture
Crop Disease
Seed Availability
No change in difficulty
% of respondents
Maize Village Palm Village
132
While land availability is an essential prerequisite, maize cultivation also depends upon
access to land (e.g. affordability of rent), as well as access to labour and inputs such as
fertilizer. A correlation analysis between the maize production cost per unit (46kg) of
shelled maize and the different cost components, was conducted to determine the relative
importance of each component, and thus to better understand the possible trade-offs
between oil palm-generated employment and self-provisioning of maize, as they pertain to
food access (Table 11).
The correlation analysis, summarized in Table 11, shows that fertilizer was a significant
factor in maize production cost in both villages. The cost of hiring labourers was a
significant factor in Maize Village, but not in Palm Village. The cost of land rent was an
important variable in Palm Village, but not in Maize Village. A larger harvest in Palm Village
tended to significantly decrease per-unit production costs, which was not the case in Maize
Village, where some smaller farmers were also able to keep production costs low. Land
tenure was not in itself a significant factor in production cost, but rather not having to pay
rent reduced harvest costs for land owners in both communities.
Importantly, in the sample, less than half (29/54)73 of the maize producing households
were able to keep their per-quintal maize production cost below 100 Quetzales, which is
the average market price for purchasing a quintal of maize74 in this region. Most of the
maize producers (16/29) with per-quintal cost of higher than 100 Quetzales are from Palm
Village, while the majority of farmers (17/25) with lower than 100 Quetzales per-quintal
costs are from Maize Village.
73 Excludes farmers who grow maize in other communities (i.e. neither Palm nor Maize Village)
74 The market price can fluctuate seasonally by approximately 20%.
133
Table 11: Correlation analysis of per unit maize production costa.
Maize Production Per-Unit Cost: Correlation Analysis Combined
Palm Village and Maize
Village
Palm Village only
Maize Village only
Notes
Variables Pearson R
Sig. Pearson R Sig. Pearson R Sig.
Fertilizer Use (yes)
0.2804 ** 0.0050 ns 0.3278 * Only two households in Palm Village do not use fertilizer
Fertilizer Cost (Q/quintal)
0.7578 *** 0.7658 *** 0.4250 **
Hire Day Labourers (yes)
0.3865 *** 0.0448 ns 0.6265 *** Some households may hire day labourers regardless of the size of their harvest. Day Labourers
Cost (Q/quintal) 0.1689 ns 0.1556 ns 0.6295 **
Rent Cost (Q) 0.4369 *** 0.4542 ** -0.2734 ns Rent cost and harvest size are less important in Maize Village where work-for-rent schemes are common
Harvest Size -0.3043 ** -0.3843 ** -0.2843 ns
Work Age Males 0.0397 ns 0.0260 ns -0.0331 ns Working age males in household and transport cost are not significant factors in per unit maize cost
Transport Cost (Q)
0.1015 ns -0.0296 ns 0.1812 ns
Significance Codes: p < 0.01*** ; p < 0.05** ; p < 0.1* ; ns= no significance
Maize Production Cost
Cost (Quetzals) to produce 1 quintal (46kg) of maize (grains stripped from the cob)
Fertilizer Use: (no=0, yes=1) the household regularly uses fertilizer to grow maize Fertilizer Cost: Cost (Quetzals) of fertilizer to produce 1 quintal (46kg) of maize (grains stripped from
the cob) Hire Day Labourers: (yes/no) the household regularly hires paid day labourers for the maize field Day Labourers Cost: Cost (Quetzals) to hire day labourers to produce 1 quintal (46kg) of maize (grains
stripped from the cob) Rent Cost: Total cost (Quetzals) of renting land ; zero if work for rent Land Tenure Household owns land (0); household rents land (1) Harvest Size: Category of average maize harvest size (grains stripped from cob): small= 700kg or less;
medium = 700kg - 1800kg; large = 1800kg or more. Exact harvest size may fluctuate from year to year depending on various factors.
Work Age Males Number of work-age males in household Transport Cost (Q) Total annual transportation cost (quetzals) associated with harvesting maize
a. The monetary value of the time spent on working the field and the opportunity cost are not taken into consideration in this analysis.
Several reasons were found for the striking differences in maize production costs and cost
factors between the two communities. First, the farmers in Palm Village tended to adhere
134
to the norm of monetary payment for day labour regardless of harvest size or other factors.
Therefore, the monetary costs for labour tended to be similar between maize producers.
Similarly, Palm Village farmers paid cash for land rent based on local market prices, with
higher rent prices translating to higher maize production costs. In Maize Village, however,
no-market exchanges for these key inputs were more common. Farmers that managed to
keep their per-quintal production costs lower than market purchase price deployed at least
one (in most cases many) cost reduction strategies such as:
- paying for land rent with labour (e.g. working on 0.35ha of the landlord’s land in
exchange for renting 0.7ha for personal use)
- renting land for free from family member or friend
- paying for labour with labour (e.g. helping a neighbour with harvest in exchange for
help with own harvest)
- receiving free labour from immediate and/or extended family or friends
- not using fertilizer (mostly in Maize Village)
- using fertilizer to obtain a larger harvest, even on a marginal-size plot of land (0.7ha
or less)
Furthermore, because the agricultural day wages in Palm Village were about 15% higher
than in Maize Village as a result of oil palm establishment, it was more costly to hire day
labourers in Palm Village, making maize production more expensive for many producers75.
At the same time, the norm of monetary payment for labour leaves little room for reducing
production costs by engaging in labour-for-labour exchanges.
No significant association was found between maize production cost and employment on
oil palm plantations, although there may be a relationship between oil palm employment
75 There was no significant difference in average per-unit production cost between communities. This is due to the large within-community variation in production costs. However, many more Maize Village producers managed to keep costs below the market purchase price of maize.
135
and maize farm productivity, as had been suggested by Mingorría et al. (2014). However,
further investigation is required to determine this.
5.3 Discussion
5.3.1 Oil palm and self-provisioning of maize
The maize production unit cost analysis has several implications. First, fertilizer is a
significant and often unavoidable expense for maize farmers in both villages. In Maize
Village, however, using more fertilizer appears to be a strategy for marginal farmers to be
able to intensify production on their land plots, giving them an opportunity to earn
monetary income from a portion of their harvest, or to save it for future consumption.
However, in Palm Village, where decreasing harvest size is correlated with increasing cost,
it is the farmers with the smallest harvests that tend to incur higher per-unit production
costs. Second, because paying day labourers adds significant cost for the maize producers,
keeping wages low and/or saving on labour costs by using family labour or participating in
labour exchange schemes is vital for maintaining the viability of maize cultivation.
Similarly, lowering the rent expenses either through land ownership or by participating in
work-for-rent schemes can be crucial for keeping the production costs below the market
price threshold.
The prevalence of labour exchange schemes in Maize Village gives maize farmers more
flexibility to adapt to their given economic situation. For example, if at a certain point a
farmer has limited cash funds s/he may choose to partake in labour exchange and use the
saved funds to obtain fertilizer and ensure a better harvest. Whereas in Palm Village, a
similar farmer would have to distribute the funds between the cost factors, thus potentially
risking a lower harvest resulting in even higher per-unit production cost. Therefore, non-
monetary exchanges function not only as a means to lower the ongoing labour and rent
expenditures, but also as a sort of insurance to prevent maize productivity decline during
difficult economic times.
While the origins of the differences in non-market exchange practices between the two
communities are unclear, familial and neighbourly relations of trust and reciprocity play a
key role in preserving the culture of non-monetary exchanges. There is some evidence to
136
suggest that oil palm expansion may be contributing to the deterioration of social relations
in Palm Village by introducing a source of conflict and causing social divides. In the
interviews, some community members mentioned an increased prevalence of theft since
the arrival of oil palm, where some villagers have resorted to stealing firewood from their
neighbours’ land parcels because much of the common forest had been cut down and is
now covered in oil palm. Another interviewee complained of plantation guards stopping
bypassing villagers, asking questions, and issuing threats. ‘I used to be able to walk freely in
my village,’ one respondent noted. ‘Now I feel like it’s not my village any more’.
Furthermore, Palm Village had experienced problems with theft and assault involving
migrant labourers, as well as conflicts with other villages because of broken roads
(destroyed by heavy oil palm trucks) and protests against oil palm. Overall, there is
palpable tension in the community around oil palm, with some residents regarding it as
essential to their livelihoods, and others expressing resentment towards oil palm
supporters and community members who sold land to oil palm growers. In addition to
other problems, further breakdown of social relations in Palm Village could further
undermine the economic sustainability of maize production and the adaptive capacity of
maize farmers.
Oil palm expansion can compromise the affordability of maize production in several other
ways. One of the consequences of oil palm establishment in Palm Village was the effect of
pushing up agricultural day wages in Palm Village. Though this may be beneficial for some
wage labourers, it is detrimental to households reliant upon their labour, especially those
lacking the fall-back of a widespread labour exchange culture. Households with labour
constraints such as female-headed and elderly households stand to be the most affected by
regressing maize production and affordability. Incidentally, these households are also the
most likely to be excluded from the physically intense oil palm employment, thus
compounding their vulnerability within an oil palm dominated community.
The escalating pressure on land in Palm Village also makes it more difficult to obtain
productive and accessible land by leaving less and less land available for expanding maize
137
production and driving up land prices76. While the effect on rent price is currently unclear,
the declining availability of land is alarming many renters in Palm Village, with some
lamenting of the prospect of not having land for growing maize in the near future. It is not
surprising then that land ownership (as opposed to renting) is significantly associated with
Palm Villagers’ confidence in their ability to access food, but not in Maize Village, where
renters feel more confident about having future access to rented land.
Figure 15: Farmer from Palm Village comparing maize crop grown with (right) and
without (left) fertilizer. (November 2014)
Overexploitation of land is another concern associated with heightened land pressure, as it
would necessitate higher fertilizer costs and make maize agriculture less sustainable over
time. The traditional Mayan milpa system, which involves intercropping, especially with
nitrogen-fixing legumes, and land rotation, is already impossible for most maize growers in
more land-scarce Palm Village. Some farmers there have reported losing entire crops over
the last few years due to insufficient fertilizer (see Figure 15 for comparison). In addition
to augmented fertilizer dependence, residents are becoming concerned about the declining
availability and quality of local water resources affecting their maize crops and everyday
lives. The broader ecological impacts of large-scale monocrop expansion, including the
76 Many elements affect land prices in the study region including land tenure status, ecological attributes, and circumstantial factors (e.g. if the seller is desperate for a quick sale and/or is taken advantage of by the buyer). However, interviews and surveys indicate a steep upward trend in land prices, with a couple of land owners even strategically holding uncultivated land with the expectation of eventually selling to an oil palm grower at a higher price.
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long-term impacts on soil and water cycling are discussed in the following chapter
(Chapter 6).
5.3.2 Oil palm and market provisioning of food
Wage employment remains the key source of household income for both Maize and Palm
Villages, of which a portion is allotted to purchasing food. Evidently, most survey
participants correlated their food gap periods with gaps in employment, and improvement
in food security with improvement in employment (e.g. finding a stable job) with an oil
palm farm or another employer.
Oil palm plantations are an important source of temporary and permanent employment in
Palm Village. However, as described in Chapter 4, the vast majority of the jobs are offered
on a temporary basis, mostly in the form of 15-day contracts. The nature of oil palm
employment on the smallholder plantations in Palm Village is very precarious and non-
inclusive, as the work does not come with health benefits, employment security, or assured
safety standards. The results in the previous chapter showed that none of the surveyed
temporary employees felt confident about the long-term feasibility of their employment,
due primarily to the extreme physical demand of the work. Even out of the permanent
employees, only 35% had confidence in the long-term viability of their jobs, all of them
being in supervisory or less physically demanding roles. The inequitable hiring practices
on oil palm farms, which provide no guarantee for re-hiring or recourse for discrimination,
compound the struggle of community members excluded from oil palm work or vulnerable
to future exclusion due to age, injury, or other reasons.
The results presented in this chapter suggest that oil palm employment increased food
access in Palm Village only for the households whose members were able to procure a
permanent job on an oil palm farm, or have some other assurance for continued
employment. Improvement in food access, however, did not mean that the households
necessarily became food secure. Most of the households relying on oil palm employment,
both temporary and permanent, remained unconfident of regular food access, even if they
had better food access now compared to ten years ago.
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On the other hand, many households (32%) in Palm Village that did not rely on oil palm
employment as their primary source of income had experienced a deterioration in food
access over the last ten years. Increased difficulty in finding work due to fewer options for
employment was the main cited reason, especially for households that are excluded from
oil palm labour. For many households, the inequity and precariousness of oil palm jobs
combined with the disappearance of other agricultural employment opportunities were a
cause of worry regarding the future of work prospects and food access in the community.
Curiously, in Maize Village with the overall better food access, residents with permanent
jobs were less common and there was no significant difference in food access between
households with temporary and permanent jobs. Most temporarily-employed residents in
Maize Village worked on neighbouring maize fields, with some occasionally going to other
communities to look for day jobs, including on oil palm farms in Palm Village. Temporary
maize workers in Maize Village were generally more confident in their ability to find
regular work than those in Palm Village. Furthermore, work on maize fields is generally
not as physically intense as oil palm work, and is customarily performed by family
members with varying abilities. It was found that some of the most vulnerable households
in Maize Village (e.g. very poor, elderly, all-female households) have been able to obtain
work on their neighbours’ maize fields or earn money for cleaning, shelling, and sorting
maize, obtaining at least enough to feed the household.
Because maize work is more inclusive by physical nature and by custom than oil palm
work, it contributes to better food access for a diversity of household types, thus avoiding a
polarization effect seen in Palm Village where maize employment is rapidly disappearing.
This result complements an earlier study by Dürr (2016), where traditional maize
cultivation (compared to oil palm) was found to generate more local forward-linked jobs,
leading to a greater proportion of wealth staying in the region. Further to Dürr (2016), the
maize economy in this study site tends to generate more inclusive and pro-poor
development than oil palm, with direct implications for the food security of vulnerable
households. The vast majority of households in Maize Village (nearly 70%) feel confident in
their food access regardless of the terms of their employment (temporary or permanent),
and over three quarters of the households feel that their food access had remained stable
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over the last ten years. In Palm Village, however, oil palm employment is causing a divide
in food access outcomes between those who are employed and not employed by oil palm,
and between those who are employed on varying terms. As the oil palm continues to
expand over other agricultural lands, thus eliminating other agricultural employment
options, food access may become further hampered for those who are not able to benefit
from oil palm employment.
5.3.3 Role of self-provisioning and market provisioning in food access
Since food access is tied to both employment and maize self-provisioning, it becomes
necessary to understand the relative importance of each, and the role of each in the average
rural household’s livelihood strategy. In the mainstream development discourse, the
creation of rural jobs via the promotion of smallholder (and large-scale) cash crop
cultivation has been long advocated as an avenue for rural development, even if it comes at
the expense of reducing purportedly inefficient subsistence farming (World Bank 2007,
2011; Conroy et al. 1996). Some studies have challenged this vision, stressing instead the
importance of staple crop cultivation for food security, especially during periods of low
employment and food price shocks (Anderman et al. 2014; De Janvry and Sadoulet 2011;
Baiphethi and Jacobs 2009; Isakson 2009).
In this study, maize cultivation appears to be an important risk77 mitigation strategy for
households, the majority of which lack other ‘safety nets’ for accessing food during difficult
times. In the absence of sufficient government assistance or other social support systems,
households are left vulnerable to hunger when they experience a drop in income (e.g. when
employment is not available or inaccessible) or when crops fail, etc.). This sentiment is
often reflected in the way villagers talk about maize, suggesting that it is not an easily
replaceable livelihood component even if more wage work happened to be available. For
instance, an older respondent acknowledged the benefit of added employment from oil
palm in the community, at the same time adding ‘but if I cannot work, who will take care of
my family? If we have maize at least we can eat’.
77 Risk here refers to the probability of an event occurring, in this case an event of a food gap (Ellis 1993).
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Respondents frequently referred to maize cultivation as part of their identity, and treated it
almost synonymously with food in a broader sense. For example, one respondent
expressed her anxiety about oil palm encroachment: ‘If there is no more land to grow maize,
what will we eat? We will have to leave’. The concern came up repeatedly, even among
families who had members working on oil palm plantations and were benefitting from the
income. ‘Maize is something we can eat. We cannot eat the oil palm’. Similarly, most of the
landless households, particularly younger families or families that have recently moved
into this frontier region, take up work in hopes of saving money to purchase their own plot
of land and grow maize in the future. For them, maize is an inextricable part of their Mayan
culture, but also a means of attaining stability and ensuring continuity for the future
generations.
A glaring problem, however, is the high average per-unit cost of maize production in the
two communities, where more than half of the respondent farmers self-provision maize for
more than what it would cost to purchase the same amount on the market, not including
the value of their own labour and opportunity cost. While this can be conceptualized as
growth-stifling productive inefficiency, it can be argued that it is simply an investment that
is precisely motivated by the food access objective. In a region where the fleeting labour
market often leaves households without an income source for uncertain periods of time,
the added per-unit maize production cost is a sort of premium to reduce the risk of food
gaps when market-provisioning of food may not be possible. Furthermore, the household
has much more control over its subsistence maize cultivation than over its monetary
income, especially in the common situation of reliance on temporary work. In dire times, it
is much more likely that a household can find ways to reduce maize cultivation
expenditures (e.g. cutting down on fertilizer or asking family and friends for help with
farming tasks) than to increase its income to meet its immediate needs. Incidentally, it was
found that food access was not associated with lower maize production cost, but only with
whether a household cultivated its own maize. The food gap risk is further reduced in the
presence of non-monetary exchange options, prominent in Maize Village, giving residents
additional flexibility to maximize their productive resources to adapt in times of financial
constraint.
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The negative effect of the oil palm expansion on maize production a significant issue given
the importance of cultivating maize for regular and continuous household food access. In
Palm Village, many oil palm-reliant and non-oil palm reliant respondents who have
experienced declining food access blamed deteriorating fall-back options for obtaining food
when there is no available work. Declining access to land was a primary cause for worry as
a matter that is making maize cultivation more difficult, and as a direct problem for food
access. Waning fall-back options also included disappearing forest resources, which have
historically been a source of certain food types (e.g. game meat, forest fruits, herbs, and
mushrooms).
The results shown here are illustrative of the ‘safety-first’ principle previously observed in
peasant economies. Adhering to the principle, peasants living close to the subsistence
margin seek first to avoid potentially catastrophic failure, rather than seek potentially
higher but riskier returns (Scott 1976). In doing so, the risk-averse peasants often sacrifice
productive and/or economic efficiency, as well as refrain from adopting innovations or
practices that carry a substantial level of uncertainty (Ellis 1993). From this perspective,
the threat of further oil palm expansion may, in fact, be contributing to the unwillingness of
peasants in Palm Village to abandon maize farming despite the high per-unit costs.
Because the spread of oil palm is exacerbating several types of uncertainty78 in the village,
particularly uncertainty regarding continued access to land and uncertainty over market
fluctuations, it is reinforcing risk-averse behaviour, especially for poorer households (Ellis
1993).
Overall, the above findings suggest that while oil palm establishment has resulted in
improved food access for certain households in Palm Village, namely the minority that
were able to secure permanent or otherwise reliable employment, it has done little for rest
of the community by ways of improvement. The results also echo an issue raised in
previous studies, that an increase in monetary income may not necessarily yield an
78 Uncertainty refers to events for which it is not possible for the decision-maker to attach probability to.
(Ellis 1993).
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increase a household’s purchasing power (Anderman et al. 2014; De Janvry and Sadoulet
2010). About a third of the surveyed households in Palm Village, both with and without oil
palm employment, have experienced a decline in their food access over the last ten years,
with many pointing to rising food prices as a main reason79. In addition to having to pay
more for food, some households indicated that they must also now pay for firewood and for
forest herbs, which used to be freely available before local forests were cut down. This
once again puts into question the security benefits of shifting away from self-provisioning
towards market-provisioning of food.
Given the marked importance of maize self-provisioning and the restricted benefits of oil
palm for household food access in the host community, this thesis advocates for programs
and policies that support staple crop cultivation, as well as efforts to improve access to
more equitable and stable employment. Social assistance which includes employment
insurance, health benefits, education and training programs, and community building, can
play a central role in reducing food gaps and allow rural households the opportunity to
more efficiently allocate their productive resources and catalyze development. Better
oversight is urged for the environmental impacts of cash crop expansion as well as
abatement and/or compensation mandates for the loss of ecological resources.
79 The prices of food and other basic necessities in Guatemala have risen steadily over the last decade, inclusively for key staples such as maize, beans, rice, and wheat (INE 2017; c.f. De Janvry and Sadoulet 2010).
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Chapter 6
Oil Palm and Food System Vulnerability
6.1 Introduction
Claims of improved food security from flex crop establishment have been problematized in
literature, citing issues with unequal access to employment, real wages, working
conditions, and other socio-economic factors that could impact food security within a given
context (Anderman et al. 2014; Isakson 2014; McCarthy 2010). In the previous chapter
(Chapter 5) it was shown that oil palm expansion has undermined staple food access and
exacerbated inequality for Palm Village residents as it has not generated sufficient
employment or income benefits to improve food security for the vast majority of
households. At the same time, ongoing encroachment of oil palm onto the remaining staple
crop fields and forested lands is threatening long-term food access with shrinking
employment options and possibly the deterioration of social relations and the elimination
of fall-back strategies for obtaining food.
In this chapter, the results from Chapter 4 and 5 are re-contextualized within the situated
socio-ecological food system (SEFS) framework described in Chapter 2 (see also Ericksen
2008a; Allen and Prosperi 2016; Cote and Nightingale 2011) to demonstrate ways in
which oil palm expansion has led to considerable changes in the food system of the
producer region. Other dimensions of the food system, including food
consumption/utilization, variety and nutrition are examined in relation to food system
vulnerability and adaptation capacity. Furthermore, the potential environmental
consequences of oil-palm-altered landscapes are explained, as they lead to changes in local
food access and consumption patterns. Special attention is given to ecological slow
variables80, namely water and soil nutrient cycling, and their role in long-term food system
resilience.
80 From Chapter 2: ecological slow variables are aspects of the ecological system that remain relatively constant over time due to the system’s self-regulation. These include water cycling, forest regeneration, soil fertility, and other landscape functions. Because slow variables form the basis of ecosystem resilience,
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The results suggest that oil palm expansion has exacerbated many existing food system
vulnerabilities and introduced new ones. While oil palm has done little to boost the local
food access by ways of spurring economic development, it has contributed to the
disappearance of certain nutritious foods in the study communities, compromised
ecological resources (e.g. water, forest, and soils), and heightened the region’s exposure to
external shocks (e.g. oil palm price fluctuations). Furthermore, food insecurity is
exacerbated by the scalar incongruence between (beyond-community) food system threats,
shocks and stresses, and (primarily within-household) adaptation strategies in relation to
self- and market- provisioning of food. The analysis highlights the importance of
supporting traditional agricultural systems, strengthening environmental protection, and
instating stricter regulation of the spread of cash crops in land-scarce, food insecure, and
otherwise vulnerable regions. Institutional capacity building at community and beyond-
community scales is needed to help households cope with shocks and foster equity and
resilience in the food system.
The layout of this chapter is as follows. The chapter begins with a descriptive analysis of
the principal food system characteristics, including the key processes and limitations
involved in self-provisioning and market-provisioning of food. Then, the primary links to
shocks and adaptation/coping strategies are identified with respect to the main food
system characteristics and activities. The impacts of the introduction and expansion of oil
palm are then explained in relation to the food system characteristics and vulnerabilities.
Specifically, the land, labour, and staple food access dynamics discussed in the previous
chapters are placed within the socio-ecological food system framework, along with
provisioning and consumption patterns of other foods. Finally, the ways in which oil palm
has altered food system vulnerabilities are explained, along with suggestions to improve
the resilience of the local food system.
pushing them beyond their critical thresholds can trigger a transition of the system to an irreversible new state (Garmestani and Allen 2014)
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6.2 Food system characteristics
Both self-provisioning and market-provisioning play an important role in obtaining food in
Palm and Maize Villages. Over 80% of the households in the two villages access food
through a combination of self-provisioning (primarily of maize, in a few cases beans, and
forest products) and market provisioning of these and other foods.
Table 12 lists the categories of foods that are often, but not exclusively, self-provisioned in
the study villages. Maize is the most common self-provisioned type of food. Most
households in both villages obtain all, or part of, their consumed maize from their owned or
rented farm plots. A few households also cultivate beans. Staple crop agriculture in the
communities is entirely rain-fed. Farming tasks including planting, cleaning and weeding
the fields, applying agrochemicals, and harvesting, are usually performed by hand, with
minimal machinery use (e.g. portable pumps for herbicide application). Most maize
farmers in both villages use chemical and/or organic fertilizers due to declining soil
fertility over the last decade. A few farmers with sufficient land and other productive
resources observe fallow periods and/or plant nitrogen-fixing bean varieties for a period of
time or in conjunction with maize.
Some villagers keep poultry for eggs and meat, although typically not enough for household
self-sufficiency in these products. A few households have fruit trees (e.g. orange, banana,
papaya) and certain vegetables (e.g. chayote) on their farm parcels or near their houses.
However, as discussed further in this chapter, the consumption of fruits and vegetables is
generally very low in both communities.
A number of villagers participate in hunting, fishing, and gathering of foods and firewood
that are still available in local forests and waterways. Maize Village has some remnants of
tropical forest on privately-owned lands and on common village property. Palm Village has
few and smaller remaining forest plots. The disappearance of forest is more pronounced in
Palm Village, where much of the forest had been cut down over time to make room for
crops and pasture. Whether cut by oil palm producers or by previous landowners, most of
the previously forested land is now covered by oil palm, with more expansion on the
horizon (see Chapter 4). Oil palm growers, in particular, have been responsible for clearing
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forest remnants in riparian zones. Palm Village residents reported that shrinking forest
plots combined with population growth have led to mounting scarcity of forest-based foods
and resources (e.g. firewood), with possible impacts on local water resources – discussed
later in this chapter.
Table 12: Households (HH's) engaging in regular or occasional self-provisioning of
different foods in Palm and Maize Villages.
Types of Food Common self-provisioning method
% of surveyed HH’s in Palm Village
% of surveyed HH’s in Maize Village
Maize Farm cultivation 83% 88% Beans Farm cultivation 5% 5%
Fruits (e.g. orange, banana, papaya,
pineapple)
Cultivation on farm parcels and/or house gardens
No data – however, self-provisioning of fruits
and vegetables was observed in both communities.
Vegetables (e.g.
chayote, carrots, onions)
Cultivation on farm parcels and/or house gardens
Poultry (chickens, turkeys) and eggs
Keeping poultry near the house
26%* 13%*
Game meat Hunting in forests 0% 5% Herbs and
Mushrooms Gathering in forests and farm
parcels 14% 20%
Fish Fishing in local streams 14% (half of these fish in rivers far outside of
the community)
25% (all except one respondent fish in
local rivers) Firewood Gathering from farm
own/rented parcels, forests, from family/neighbours, and in a few cases from oil palm
farms
65% (4 cases of gathering fallen fronds
from oil palm farms)
80%
*Numbers are likely higher than the percentages indicated in the survey. Chicken deaths were reported in the previous year due to disease. Some households gave up chicken-rearing because of this, though they mentioned that they may re-consider in the future.
Market-provisioning (purchasing) is the prevalent sourcing method for many types of food.
Households purchase foods from a handful of small local stores, and occasionally from the
nearest towns. The closest town, however, is located about 10km away and is not easily
accessible for most villagers who do not own a vehicle and/or live far from the main road.
The owners of the local stores are also villagers with various financial and transportation
constraints. They obtain some of their marketed products from neighbours within their
communities (e.g. fruits from villagers with fruit trees on their plots), from trucks that pass
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by the villages (e.g. beans are often purchased from trucks), or from the nearest towns.
Choice of products and their respective sources are dictated in part by local availability and
by the individual means of the storeowners to be able to purchase, transport, and store
goods.
A critical and ongoing issue in both villages is the availability and quality of water, both for
supporting farm production and for everyday household use. For their household water
supply, villagers in both communities depend on shallow wells and small streams. Some
wells and streams become dry during the summer season – an issue which had notably
intensified in Palm Village over the last decade. Both villages suffer from a lack of
sanitation infrastructure, leading to a general lack of water management capacity and
prevalence of water-borne diseases.
Villagers use basic firewood stoves for cooking, rendering them highly dependent on
firewood. Firewood has become tougher to self-provision over the years, making it more
difficult and expensive to acquire.
6.3 Food system vulnerabilities
The characteristics of the similar food systems in Maize and Palm Villages are associated
with significant vulnerabilities due to their susceptibility to shocks of environmental (e.g.
drought) and socio-economic (e.g. surges in food prices, drop in employment, etc.) origin,
and limited adaptive capacity (Ericksen 2008a,b; Adger 2006; Chambers 2006). Table 13
outlines some of the main characteristics of the food systems with their corresponding
vulnerabilities, threats/stresses/shocks, and existing adaptive strategies, and limiting
factors. It is not, however, an exhaustive list. ‘Adaptation’ and ‘adaptive capacity’ as
referred to in this chapter includes the coping mechanisms to short-term stressors (e.g.
seasonal water shortages) as well as the potential to adapt to future change in a more
proactive way (c.f. Ericksen 2008a, further explained in Chapter 2).
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Table 13: Food system characteristics, their associated stresses/shocks/threats,
existing adaptation strategies and limiting factors in Palm and Maize Villages (not an
exhaustive list).
Food System Characteristics
or Activities
Common Stresses, Shocks, and Threats
Existing Coping/Adaptive
Strategies
Factors Limiting Adaptation*
* In addition to general lack of financial/other resources, little/no access to credit or outside assistance, which are common factors
Production
Rain-fed agriculture
Droughts; higher temperatures and
drying of soils
Minimal Lack of infrastructure (e.g. irrigation systems)
Dependence on fertilizer
Decreased availability and affordability of
fertilizer
Minimal; plant nitrogen-fixers; observe fallow
periods
Little possibility to observe fallow periods due to land scarcity; soil degradation; regenerating soil typically
reduces yields in the short-medium term (Carey 2009)
Land scarcity Soil degradation, biodiversity loss;
deforestation
Intensify production Limited farmer mobility due to land constraints
Labour intensiveness
Expensive farm labour Shift to – or intensify – family labour; participate
in labour exchange
Limited options for labour-constrained households (e.g. elderly, all-female) relying on
hired labourers
Large areas dedicated to oil
palm
Pests; biodiversity loss; income diversity loss; oil palm price shocks;
conflicts over land
Increase pesticide use; look for oil palm
employment; look for other employment further
away
Limited community control over land use change decisions; Limited land and other types of
employment in surrounding regions
Shrinking forest remnants
Biodiversity loss; lower availability and
regeneration of some plant species; small
forest remnants more vulnerable to
disturbance; changes in water cycling
Minimal; preserve remaining forest if possible; minimize
hunting/gathering from forest
Limited community control over forest on private lands;
insufficient resources for forest protection and enforcement of
protected forest
Insecure land tenure
Pressure to sell land Efforts to secure land titles; develop intra-
community relationships; sell land and relocate
Limited control/participation in land use change decisions in the
community; institutional difficulties involved in titling
land
Low diversity of produced food
Greater probability of far-reaching
ramifications from a single shock; low
nutritional diversity
Minimal Land scarcity; time, resource, and knowledge constraints; dependence of commercial
fertilizers that are not conducive to intercropping
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Inequity in access to and
limited ability to increase
productive resources
Environmental disturbances,
environmental and resource degradation, market shocks, income loss; ‘land grabbing’ by
powerful actors
Efforts to develop intra-community relationships;
collaborate with NGOs, researchers, and other
communities
Poor and inequitable management of resources;
current land reform initiative is ineffective and often facilitates
the concentration of landholdings; little opportunity
for innovation due to time/resource/knowledge constraints; institutional
weakness (e.g. little capacity for oversight and taking action)
Processing
Dependence on firewood
Shrinking forest resources; price
increases
Gather firewood further away; purchase and/or
transport firewood from elsewhere; gather on oil
palm farms
Limited access to oil palm farms; transportation logistics
and costs
Dependence on local streams and
wells for water (drinking and
food processing)
Droughts; water shortages; land use change; pollution
Use neighbours’ wells; get water from further away
Limited open water sources; neighbours wells and streams
can dry up; difficulty in transporting water
Lack of water or sewage
treatment
Water-borne diseases, pollution
Purchase water filter; boil water; purchase chemical
water purifiers
Availability and affordability of water treatment tools
Distribution
Self-provisioning Harvest loss; low food/nutrition
diversity; environmental shocks; prices of agricultural
inputs
Eat more purchased food if possible; decrease consumption and/or
diversity of consumption; rely on family/community
help
Limited family/community resources; physical ability to grow/obtain food (e.g. health
problems and disabilities); distance from towns; inequity in employment and wage pay
Purchasing Limited local availability of
purchasable food; food price shocks; income loss; affected physical
ability to work
Eat more self-provisioned food if possible; decrease
consumption and/or diversity of consumption, rely on family/community
help
Poor infrastructure
Lacking and/or broken roads diminish food
access
Locally-led efforts to improve roads
Institutional capacity; community resource limitations
Low economic activity
Intermittent/stopped supply of certain foods
Minimal Limited diversity of locally-available food
General poverty, low standard of
living
Any type of shocks or
intra-households issues (e.g. illness)
Minimal; strengthen intra-community relationships
Time/resource/knowledge constraints
Inequity in distribution;
dependent on own income or
self-provisioning
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Consumption
High proportion of staple (maize)
consumption
Maize harvest and/or market prices;
low nutrition diversity; diseases related to
nutrition (e.g. diabetes)
Minimal; some educational efforts
Some evidence of false beliefs about foods and loss of cultural knowledge and connection to
food; time/resource/knowledge constraints
Low variety in consumed food
Limited knowledge about nutrition and/or preparation of different foods
Table 13 shows that many aspects of local food production, processing, distribution, and
consumption, are associated with a number of shocks and stressors. Land scarcity,
growing dependence on fertilizer, and the labour-intensive nature of staple maize farming,
as discussed in Chapter 5, renders maize farmers vulnerable to events affecting labour
dynamics (e.g. rising costs of farm labour), affordability of farming inputs, and heightening
pressure on land. Distributional aspects of the food system, including purchasing and
transportation are similarly affected by the overall poverty of the region producing
barriers to food access, particularly for the poorer or otherwise constrained households
(e.g. via physical disability). At the same time, the already few coping/adaptation options
are further limited by various factors such as time, resource, and knowledge constraints,
limited control over decision making, institutional weaknesses and other constraints.
A notable common thread in types of threats and stresses for a large portion of the food
system characteristics is the susceptibility to environmental disturbance and change.
Environmental factors such as depletion of water resources and drought, biodiversity loss,
forest loss, and pollution, not only have the potential to impact maize farming, but also the
diversity of locally-produced food, as well as the cost and safety of food processing and
consumption. It is worth noting that food security and development prescribed by
international aid organizations and governments, particularly initiatives promoting flex
crops, seldom consider the full ecological repercussions of their proposed interventions
(Allen and Prosperi 2016; Foran et al. 2014). The analysis presented here calls for more
systematic consideration of the environmental sphere of the food system.
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Another common theme within the summary Table 13 is the incongruence in scales
between threats and adaptive strategies. Some of the most severe system threats, stresses,
or shocks stretch beyond the reach of the community. These include environmental
changes, market shocks, deficient infrastructure linking local food markets to distant
suppliers, and pressures on land stemming largely from beyond-community land market
dynamics81. At the same time, the coping/adaptation options that are accessible to the
local population are minimal and highly constrained by the limited resources and
capabilities of individual households. The lack of government and other beyond-
community assistance means that struggling households can, at most, rely on help from
their neighbours within the community (e.g. use neighbours’ wells in times of drought, pool
community resources to improve local roads), and build collaborations with other
communities and local NGOs82. In other words, household and community-level
institutions may help to mitigate adverse events that strike individual households (i.e.
‘idiosyncratic shocks’), but there are few protections against events that simultaneously
impact a large portion of a community (i.e. ‘covariate shocks’).
When possible, households often adapt to shocks by altering within-household behaviours,
which are usually intended to remedy the symptoms of a system shock rather than address
its cause. For example, when the ability to self-provision food is compromised by harvest
loss, households will typically adapt by purchasing food, decreasing household
consumption, or turning to family or friends for help. Such options, however, are not
universally available; poorer households generally have lower adaptive abilities.
Moreover, such adaptive strategies do not address the root causes of uneven vulnerabilities
81 For example, it was shown in Chapter 5 that government-led promotion of oil palm had contributed to land sales in Lachuá and other parts of the country. Stemming from the historical marginalization of rural indigenous populations, land tenure insecurity coupled with inadequate social supports has contributed to the pressure to sell land.
82 The limited number of projects that had gotten off the ground, typically in collaboration with NGOs, researchers from public universities, or with other communities, tended to be small in scope, intermittent, and largely constrained by funding and lack of local expertise. In one example, a locally-run NGO ran a series of health and nutrition workshops for women with the help of foreign volunteers. However, volunteers were notoriously difficult to recruit due to limited outside funding and tough local living conditions (interview data). Plans were repeatedly put on hiatus due to a lack of volunteers and financial constraints.
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nor do they resolve any of causal factors that generate risks or produce adverse outcomes
like harvest loss. Therefore, prolonged inability to grow enough food may lead to sale of
land or other assets due to a lack of other recourse. Household-level coping/adaptation
capacity of the vast majority of households is severely hampered by the deep poverty in the
region. Poverty also limits the degree to which households are able to assist other
households in times of need. For the same reasons, most households lack resources to
contribute to community-level capacity-building initiatives.
An important outcome from the lack of outside support is that households have greater
capacity for adaptation in their self-provisioning activities than in market-provisioning.
For instance, during a period of low monetary resources, a household may have options for
decreasing expenditures in maize production such as decreasing fertilizer use or asking for
family help with farming to avoid paying day labourers. However, little can be done when a
household relies on purchasing food, since it is difficult or impossible to generate more
income on demand. That is, households that grow their own food have more options for
coping with income loss than those that acquire their food in markets. From this
perspective, vulnerability analysis confirms the results discussed in Chapter 5, explaining
why maize self-provisioning continues to be an important pillar of food access, despite its
perceived inefficiencies and potentially high costs. On the other hand, households that
acquire food on the market may be less susceptible to localized environmental events such
as crop disease, which emphasizes the importance of diversity in agricultural systems.
Overall, the food system observed in the study region is highly vulnerable to various types
of shocks and disturbances, and with limited capacity for adaptation and improving food
security. The following sections analyze the changes in the food system that have been
induced by the emergence and spread of oil palm in the affected communities.
6.4 Oil palm and staple maize access
The oil palm-centered development vision first and foremost aims to deepen reliance upon
market-based entitlements by emphasizing employment and income generation as means
for acquiring food (World Bank 2011, 2007; PESAN 2009; c.f. Sen 1981). Self-provisioning
in this vision tends to be sidelined as cash crop expansion often comes with the
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displacement of small-scale staple crop cultivation (Anderman et al. 2014; Kamoyo et al.
2015), which was observed in Lachuá.
As detailed in the previous chapters, the introduction and expansion of oil palm in an
already vulnerable food system has resulted in several changes in local provisioning and
the distribution of staple maize. First, oil palm has indeed generated wage and increased
the incomes of some households. However, higher income did not always translate to
improved staple food access due to the precariousness of oil palm jobs and other shocks
and stresses in the food system such as rising food prices. Those households that were
excluded from oil palm jobs and relied on other agricultural employment eroded by the
spread of oil palm suffered overwhelmingly negative effects on their to access food through
market channels.
The effect of oil palm expansion on the self-provisioning of staple maize has been largely
negative. Shrinking land resources, increasing labour costs, and heightening social
tensions caused by oil palm contributed to increased difficulty and costs of growing staple
maize. No significant positive impacts of oil palm on local maize production were
observed. It follows that the introduction and spread of oil palm had the overall effect of
compromising maize self-provisioning at least to some degree, while market provisioning
improved only for a portion of the village residents and declined for others. As elaborated
on later in this chapter, these oil palm-induced changes in the food system have translated
to higher susceptibility to shocks and reduced adaptive capacity in the affected community.
6.5 Oil palm access to firewood
Households in Palm and Maize Villages rely on firewood for cooking. The majority of
households (65% in Palm Village and 80% in Maize Village) continue to self-provision
firewood (Table 12). However, out of the households who generally self-provision
firewood in Palm Village, nearly all expressed increased difficulty in doing so over the last
ten years, and 35% reported having to occasionally purchase wood when they cannot find
it for free and/or have to pay more to transport it from forests or land parcels that are
further away (compared to ten years ago, when free wood was locally abundant). Nearly
two-thirds (63%) of Palm Village respondents specifically blamed deforestation for their
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increased difficulty in self-provisioning (or having to switch to purchasing) of firewood in
the last 10 years. Of these, 36% pointed to oil palm as the culprit of deforestation.
Furthermore, two respondents mentioned that there have been incidents of firewood theft
from parcels in Palm Village, causing problems in the community. Four more respondents
expressed that their neighbours no longer allow other people to gather wood on their land
parcels, whereas a few years ago this was not a problem. Four respondents reported that
they gather wood from local oil palm farms. However, access to oil palm farms is not open
to everyone, and is becoming increasingly restricted.
In Maize Village, many respondents also mentioned that it has become more difficult to
gather wood locally over the last ten years, forcing them to have to go further to find wood.
However, for the vast majority this has not translated to increased financial costs (although
time-cost may be significant in some cases). Maize Village residents did not mention
deforestation in their community and no theft or problems with restricted access were
reported.
6.6 Oil palm and food consumption diversity
Apart from access to basic staples, the food system framework also considers the diversity
of locally accessible and consumed foods, along with their nutritional and cultural
attributes (Ericksen 2008b). In the portion of the household survey discussed here,
respondents were asked to elaborate on any changes in their diets over the last ten years.
The ten-year time frame corresponds to the period of arrival and expansion of oil palm in
the region with corresponding land use changes, including deforestation, as well as the
emergence and growth of local stores that sell food.
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Figure 16: Changes in diet between 2007-2015 (approx.) in Palm and Maize Villages.
(Source: household survey)
Figure 16 illustrates the changes in diet in the two communities (combined), where many
households reported eating fewer nutritious foods, including vegetables, herbs,
mushrooms, fish, fruits, and game meat. At the same time, processed foods and low-
nutrition/high-sugar foods such as sweet drinks, candy, chips, instant soup, and noodles,
and pasta, have seen the greatest increases in consumption. Interviews with store owners
confirmed that ‘junk foods’ and processed foods were now indeed among the most
commonly purchased products, while ten years ago they were not easily available.
Consumption of the most common staple foods including maize, beans and eggs has
remained largely unchanged as the population continues to rely on these foods for the bulk
0
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of their caloric intake83. All of these foods, except fish, have been traditionally sourced
from forests and agricultural land parcels, which have been progressively shrinking in the
last ten years. The primary cited reason for the decrease in the consumption of vegetables,
fruits, herbs, fish, and game meat was that all of these foods had become less available in
the communities for one or another reason (Figure 17).
It is important to note that no substantial differences were found between the two
communities with regard to diet changes. That is, both communities have seen similar
decreases in the consumption of nutritious perishable foods and growing consumption of
processed foods, suggesting that oil palm expansion in Palm Village does not by itself
explain these changes. However, the notable difference between the two communities is
the nature of the stress that contributed to the diet changes. Much like with firewood,
Palm Village respondents explicitly blamed deforestation (complete and permanent
disappearance of forest) for decreased access to forest-sourced foods. The respondents in
Maize Village explained that they can no longer find certain foods in the forest, presumably
because they have been over-harvested.
Fragmentation of forest is known to accelerate biodiversity loss by stifling seed dispersal
and regeneration of certain plant species (Benítez-Malvido and Martínez-Ramos 2003; Hill
and Curran 2003), which can be exacerbated by over-harvesting. While regeneration of
some species can potentially be fostered through better forest management in Maize
Village (Hill and Curran 2003), the forest loss in Palm Village leaves little possibility of
return for forest-sourced products in the near future, especially where the previously
forested land is now occupied by oil palm plantations. Therefore, the adaptive responses to
the loss in self-provisioned food consumption diversity are more limited in Palm Village as
a result of a permanent food system shift. However, it is also important to recognize that
Palm and Maize villages are neighboring each other and their forested plots are not
83 Processed sugar (beyond the sugar content of other foods) is also a major source of calories as it is frequently added to dishes and drinks. High sugar consumption was notable in both communities. With only four exceptions, surveyed households consumed at least 2 pounds of sugar per week. Many households consumed between 6 and 10 pounds of sugar per week, with some cases consuming over 15 pounds per week.
158
independent from an ecological perspective. Fragmentation in Palm Village may be
contributing to biodiversity loss in the forest remnants in Maize Village. Further research
is required to investigate this issue.
Figure 17: Reasons for reducing consumption or switching to purchasing different
types of food (Source: household survey)
6.7 Market provisioning and food consumption diversity
According to proponents of market development, market provisioning should be able to
replace the missing foods – or provide substitutes – by bringing them from other places to
0 2 4 6 8 10 12 14 16 18 20
Deforestation
Cannot find in forest
No longer available in community
Unproductive soil
River disappeared/low water
Cannot find in rivers
Deforestation
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Hunting prohibited
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Cannot find in forest
Her
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Number of household responses
Palm Village Maize Village
159
fulfill demand (FAO 2017; Biswas and Pinstrup-Anderson 1985). However, this logic does
not hold in this case study for several reasons. First, the two small (less than 200
households each) and largely poor communities in this study do not generate sufficient
demand to attract products. Some of the smaller and more remote communities in the
region do not have any stores, or have very small stores with an even more limited variety
of products (observed during field work).
Second, the local storeowners catering to the local demand are themselves are faced with a
multitude of constraints. Storeowners in the two communities are capital-limited local
entrepreneurs who use the store for supplemental income, not the main income
(storeowner interviews). Because the storeowners sell to an impoverished customer base,
they have low sales volume and slim profit margins. Similar to their neighbours, they
obtain the majority of their sold products from the nearby towns or from trucks that pass
by on the main road. Foods that are the most readily available and in regular supply in
stores are beans, eggs, sugar, and processed foods, all of which have a long shelf life, and
are fairly easy to transport and store.
Transportation and storage represent significant access and cost barriers for carrying
highly perishable foods such as vegetables, herbs, mushrooms, and fish, which have seen
the most notable decline in consumption. As a result of the disappearance of their local
sources, herbs, mushrooms, and fish have become rare and almost never available in local
stores. Fruits are available occasionally in Maize Village, but almost never in Palm Village
due to lack of local growers84. Vegetables including cabbage, onion, chayote squash, potato,
and carrot, tend to be available in low and intermittent supply, depending mostly on local
production in small quantities. Local sourcing of perishables is thereby essential not only
for self-provisioning, but also for market-provisioning to households in these villages. At
the same time, the provisioning capacity of store owners, as well as their adaptive capacity
84 Interestingly, pineapple was a commonly sold fruit in Palm Village when it hosted a pineapple plantation. However, after the pineapple plantation was replaced with oil palm, pineapples have entirely disappeared from Palm Village stores.
160
to shocks at local and larger market scale, is similar and strongly connected to the rest of
the households in the community.
The prospects of market provisioning are further compromised by trends in food prices.
Figure 18 shows the price trends of the increasingly consumed store-bought processed
foods in the two communities (instant soups, various sweets, and soft drinks) as compared
to price trends in staples (maize and beans), vegetables (including chayote squash, carrot,
onion, and radish), fruits (tomato, orange, and banana), and commonly used herbs
(spearmint and coriander).
Consistent with survey results indicating increasing food prices, the national data (INE
2017) show a rise in average maize and bean prices in Alta Verapaz (inclusively in Lachuá)
and Baja Verapaz provinces. Much more dramatic, however, had been the rise in prices for
the perishable fruits, vegetables and herbs. Prices for basic cooking vegetables/fruits
including onions, carrots and tomatoes, have more than tripled in the Verapaces in just five
years. Prices of oranges, radish, and chayote squash (a common vegetable in Lachuá) have
climbed ten-fold in the Verapaces, while the price for herbs surged upwards 25 times
between 2011 and 2016 (INE 2017). While the prices averaged across the country had also
gone up, in some cases substantially (e.g. five times for oranges and chayote and seven
times for spearmint), the corresponding price increases for fruits, vegetables, and herbs in
the Verapaces have been far more pronounced – in many cases more than double the
country-wide averages. The only foods that have maintained a relatively constant price (or
seen minor increases) have been the processed foods. In fact, the prices of all of the
processed foods listed in Figure 18 have increased less than 20% between 2011 and 2016
in the Verapaz provinces, and at lower rates than the country average.
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Figure 18: Guatemalan consumer price index country average and Alta and Baja
Verapaz provinces average (2011-2016)*
*for (a) local staple foods – maize and beans, (b) processed foods - instant soup, soft drinks and sweets (candy, chocolates and chewing gum), (c) herbs – spearmint and coriander, (d) common vegetables – chayote squash, onion, radish, carrot, (e) fruits – tomato, orange and banana. Base Year: 2010. Source: INE 2017
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Though the causal dynamics involved in consumer price changes are complex, the trends
clearly indicate that some of the previously common nutritious foods are not only
becoming unavailable through self-provisioning, but are also rapidly becoming unavailable
and unaffordable on the market. It follows that the local availability and accessibility of
these foods remains contingent upon local sourcing to avoid transportation and storage
constraints. It also follows that, as it currently stands, incremental income gains are likely
insufficient to allow for more market-provisioning of these foods. Incidentally, numerous
households that have experienced a gain in income because of oil palm employment (or
other means) have also reported eating fewer fresh nutritious perishables that were no
longer locally found/produced.
The dietary shift illustrated in this study is not unique. Other studies of remote rural
communities in Mesoamerica have associated the transition away from traditional self-
provision-based food systems towards market dependency with declining nutrition and
health (Ibarra et al. 2011; Soto-Méndez et al. 2011; Chávez et al. 2003; Uauy et al. 2001).
Insufficient understanding of traditional food systems along with development
interventions that favour large-scale land use conversions and/or the establishment of
protected areas have been instrumental in reducing the consumption of traditional foods
and introducing calorie-rich nutrient-deficient processed foods (Ibarra et al. 2011; Correal
et al. 2009; Mertz et al. 2009). Studies from other parts of the global South have found
similar food market trends, in that that markets for fruits, vegetables, and other nutritious
but perishable foods tend to develop more slowly than staple grain markets. This, in turn,
is accompanied by widening price differentials between the two commodity groups, which
is seen in this case study (c.f. Naylor 2016; Nesheim and Nestle 2015; Pingali 2015;
Anderman et al. 2014), high levels of malnutrition, stunted growth, and micro-nutrient
deficiencies, notably in rural populations (Soto-Méndez et al. 2011).
In addition to supporting previous findings (Naylor 2016; Anderman et al 2014; Ibarra et
al. 2011), it is proposed here that the negative impact on food and nutritional variety is a
consequence of the tension between scales of the (larger-scale) food system shocks and
stressors (including market fluctuations) and in the local adaptation capacity (at
household-community scale). Consumer food access in the study villages is closely tied to
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household- and community-scale production, especially for nutritious perishables.
Meanwhile, the local food markets are too small to attract an influx of affordable outside
goods. When oil palm was introduced into the food system, it failed to generate sufficient
purchasing power in the local market to spur the introduction of diverse foods from
outside the communities. At the same time, it compromised (at least to some degree)
within-community production of these foods (e.g. fish, herbs, other nutritious perishables).
Another study has shown that on a regional scale, oil palm business is also inferior to
traditional staple crop production in terms of generating employment and secondary
economies, thereby fostering inequality and other negative distributional effects that
create food system vulnerabilities (Dürr 2016).
In addition to issues pertaining to the production and distribution of nutritious foods, field
observations point to social/cultural knowledge and norms having an important role in
food consumption patterns. Interviews with community members and researchers
working in the region have indicated that much of the local population has a generally low
level of knowledge about the cultivation, consumption, and nutrition value of foods that are
not locally common. For example, some villagers have said that they do not eat certain
vegetables because they do not know how to cook them. Moreover, misconceptions about
nutrition are prevalent. During a 2015 workshop conducted by researchers from the
University of San Carlos Guatemala, residents from one of the study villages showed highly
inconsistent beliefs about food. For instance, some villagers believed certain vegetables
(e.g. cabbage, carrots, potatoes) to be ‘unhealthy’, while processed sugar was sometimes
perceived as ‘healthy’. Oddly, some participants also regarded rice and staple beans as
‘unhealthy’. While further research is needed to better understand social perceptions and
sources of misconception with regard to food, there is an evident need for education in
preparing and incorporating different foods into the diet.
6.8 Oil palm and environmental threats
The ecological costs of oil palm are frequently overlooked in studies of the crop,
particularly as they apply to the host communities’ future development prospects and
implications for the food system. In Palm Village, oil palm cultivation has resulted in
significant deforestation. At least 55% of the oil palm expansion, recorded through the
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land transactions in the survey, has occurred over land that was tropical rainforest before
200685. Survey respondents also complained that since the arrival of oil palm, Palm Village
has experienced a depletion of water resources, that is, lower levels of water in wells and
the drying of streams. Many villagers attribute this increase in water scarcity to
deforestation by oil palm growers, particularly in riparian zones. Furthermore, oil palm
growers in Palm Village have been blamed for altering the flow of a small river that serves
as an important water source for a downstream community. Uncontrolled oil palm
expansion along with inadequate water resource management is particularly troubling
given a lack of water infrastructure in the region. Furthermore, this area has been
designated as a protected wetland of international importance under the Ramsar
Convention in 2006 (CONAP, n.d.), yet oil palm expansion in the region has so far gone
largely unchecked.
Oil Palm expansion in Palm Village has been associated with other costs to the community,
including higher incidence of disease transmitted by oil palm pests86, and destruction of
roads by heavy oil palm trucks (interviews). Road damage has become a significant issue
in the ecoregion, so much so that in September 2015, a neighbouring community issued a
written complaint to oil palm growers in Palm Village asking them to stop using their
roads. Residents of the same village had also orchestrated road blockades to restrict the
movement of oil palm trucks.
Negative environmental impacts of oil palm plantations have been recorded in studies from
Southeast Asia (Carlson et al. 2014; Lee et al. 2013; Obidzinski et al. 2012; Comte et al.
2012). Conversion of forested landscapes to oil palm plantations has been linked to soil
erosion, soil nutrient leaching, reduced water quality, and reduced aquatic ecosystem
85 Calculated from aerial photographs and Google Maps, supported by survey data on firewood provisioning (Section 7.5). Raw data is not presented in this thesis to preserve the anonymity of the participating communities.
86 Oil palm is associated with a number of pests, such as the whitefly, which can be vectors for human-affecting illnesses (GREPALMA 2016; Morales et al. 2005). Palm Village residents have become concerned about an increase in flies (‘moscas’), mosquitos and diseases, especially in children, since the arrival of oil palm. Public health studies on the subject are lacking.
165
health (Carlson et al. 2014; Comte et al. 2012; Ng et al 2003; Goh et al 2003). Forest clear-
cutting has been long known to increase nutrient losses to streams, thereby contributing to
soil degradation while compromising water quality (Bruijnzeel 1994). The forest quality in
riparian zones was found to be particularly important for maintaining healthy freshwater
ecosystems, particularly in oil palm dominated landscapes (Luke et al. 2016).
The food system in Palm and Maize villages is intricately connected to the local
environment and is thus highly vulnerable to environmental change. Degraded soils and
water resources are the most prevalent environmental vulnerabilities, which have been
exacerbated by oil palm expansion. Insufficient environmental impact assessment and
oversight of oil palm expansion, as well as the absence of effective impact monitoring and
mitigation practices is putting local ecosystems at immediate risk and compromising long-
term resilience of the food system.
6.9 Water resources
Nearly 60% of the surveyed households in Palm Village expressed that they have
experienced an increase in water shortages over the last ten years (Figure 19). During
shortage periods, many wells in the community dry up for a period of time, forcing
residents to seek water elsewhere. Overall, the residents of Palm Village reported an
increase in the frequency and severity of shortages since the arrival of oil palm in the
community. For instance, some wells have noticeably lower water levels during the dry
season (December to April) and some wells that did not previously get dry now have a
tendency to become completely dry in certain times. Furthermore, many residents
reported lower water levels in the local streams, and that some streams have altogether
disappeared from the village.
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Figure 19: Ten-year changes in the frequency of water shortages according to
household survey*.
*n=39 in Palm Village and n=39 in Maize Village.
A number of respondents blamed deforestation and oil palm expansion for the increase in
water shortages. Survey and interview results provide evidence that some of the streams,
including those that used to run through now oil palm-covered land, have indeed
disappeared from Palm Village. Furthermore, a downstream community had issued
complaints of lower water levels in a small river since the establishment of oil palm on the
river’s shores. A focused scientific investigation is required to confirm the causal dynamics
of changing water levels, including possible changes in climate, groundwater flows, and
water usage patterns. However, ample literature exists which supports the connection
between altered water cycling and deforestation, especially in riparian zones (Luke et al.
2017; Sweeney et al. 2004). Almost all of the riparian vegetation had been cut down
alongside the streams within oil palm farms in Palm Village (field observations), which has
very likely affected stream flow and water quality, as observed in other studies (Luke et al.
2017; Carlson et al. 2014).
Adaptation strategies to water shortages are constrained by the limited open water sources
in the community and the lack of water-carrying infrastructure. During shortages, villagers
typically turn to their neighbours for water if their neighbours’ wells have not also dried up
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(Figure 20), or to nearby rivers, streams, or springs, if they are accessible and not dry.
Some villagers resolve to purchasing water, mostly for drinking, while relying on
neighbours’ wells and other sources for water for other household uses. Furthermore, the
nearby national park (a protected area) is an important source of water for Palm Village
residents during times of shortage. Over 30% of residents reported going to the park for
water when their wells are dry. However, this figure is likely to be larger because many
villagers are aware of the restrictions associated with protected areas and therefore may
not want to admit taking water from the park. The ecological ramifications of using water
from the protected area are an important avenue for further research, especially since
some water uses may be polluting (e.g. washing clothes in a stream) and not well
monitored.
Figure 20: Coping strategies for water shortages in Palm Village*.
* n=29 households. Several households reported more than one coping strategy.
While the qualitative findings in this study do not provide a conclusive account of the water
cycling dynamics in the area, they do warrant further study of oil palm impacts on local
water resources, particularly since water level changes have distinctly coincided with
changes in land use. Concerns are compounded by the limited household adaptation
0% 5% 10% 15% 20% 25% 30% 35%
Neighbours' wells
Nearby river
Nearby spring
Park
Purchase water
Respondent households
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options which not only compromise the continuous availability and safety of consumed
water, but may also be putting further pressure on the remaining water resources
including those within protected areas. These trends are particularly alarming given that
the region is a protected wetland of international importance under the Ramsar
Convention (Ramsar 2014). If water cycling is indeed threatened by the expanding
plantations, long-term negative consequences for biodiversity and productivity of the
region are implied. Sufficient and healthy water resources are essential for resilient socio-
ecological food systems, and thus need to be adequately managed to ensure long-term food
system sustainability (Ericksen 2008b).
6.10 Soil nutrient cycling
Along with water cycling, soil changes are examples of slow variables that require further
investigation as they may be amplifying the vulnerability of the local food system. Soils in
the ecoregion are generally poorly-drained, low in fertility, and are best suited to support
forests and some types of silviculture, with limited agricultural potential (Monzon 1999).
Despite the growing distress over the progressive depletion of soils in both communities,
no coordinated soil monitoring practices are currently in place. Much of the concern has
emerged from the augmented need for - and the higher cost of - fertilizer, which has
become essential for many staple crop farmers in the area. Similarly, oil palm growers rely
on ample fertilizer to maintain production (as discussed in Chapter 5). Aside from the
associated costs, the surveyed farmers did not generally mention other concerns with
respect to fertilizer use, and spoke about fertilizer application as an established routine
that for many had no alternative. Only a few staple crop farmers, all of whom owned
sufficiently sized land parcels, spoke of other soil management practices such as fallowing
and planting nitrogen fixing bean varieties (see Chapter 5). The scarcity of land leaves less
and less opportunity for periodically resting the land, which is practically impossible for
small-parcel owners and renters.
The increasing pressure on land is most palpable in Palm Village, where land parcels
continue to be rapidly bought up for oil palm, which is already directly impacting access to
staple foods for many households (Chapter 4). In addition to altering immediate food
access, land pressure – together with insufficient soil monitoring and systematic
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management - is also threatening long-term ecosystem resilience, with inevitable
consequences for long-term food security. For instance, fertilizer application alone does
not ensure a sustained nutrient balance in the soil, especially in the absence of regular
monitoring. Fertilizer can provide certain nutrients including nitrogen, phosphorus,
calcium, magnesium, and potassium87, in specified quantities. However, it does not
replenish organic soil matter, which is an important aspect of soil structure and fertility
(van der Pol and Traore 1993). In some cases, fertilizers have been shown to negatively
impact microbial communities in the soil (Winings et al. 2016), or deliver minimal benefit
as well as harm water resources through leaching (Dubos et al. 2017; Comte et al. 2015;
Duwig et al. 1998). Furthermore, because of their financial constraints, the farmers in this
study, including oil palm growers, are not always consistent in the timing, quality, and
methods of fertilizer application with unknown long-term risks to soil fertility and water
quality88 (Woittiez et al. 2017).
Uncontrolled oil palm expansion carries its own specific risks for local soils and nutrient
cycling. Oil palm is a highly fertilizer-dependent perennial crop that requires vigilant
management, including carefully tailored timing and rotation of fertilizers and organic
matter, to maintain soil quality (Pauli et al. 2014). Cultivation under conditions of
insufficient/ineffective management and land scarcity can lead to intensive soil
degradation and water pollution (Guillaume et al. 2016; Comte et al. 2012). While more
research is needed to document the land management practices of individual plantations in
this study region, the removal of ground vegetation and deforestation of riparian zones are
key issues that have already been observed, considering that ground vegetation is
important for reducing nutrient leaching and soil erosion, and protecting waterways
(Comte et al. 2012). Furthermore, previous studies have linked deforestation to the decline
of microbial biomass and diversity in tropical soils (Borneman and Triplett 1997; Bossio et
87 Effects are highly variable and depending, among other things, on the type and quality of the fertilizer used. Fertilizer choice is most often constrained by financial resources for the surveyed households.
88 A similar pattern was observed on some Honduran oil palm plantations, where resource-constrained
plantation managers applied fertilizer without knowing if it was needed or not as they never took soil samples (Fromm 2007).
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al. 2005), and even more so when forest is converted to oil palm (Lee-Cruz et al. 2013).
Bacterial soil communities are a crucial component of nutrient cycling, as they perform
many functions including regulating soil pH, soil carbon, and the content and availability of
phosphorus, calcium, and other nutrients (Yang and Insam 1991). Thus, they need to be
studied further in the context of the Lachuá Ecoregion.
Another poorly-understood issue is the practicability of shifting land use away from oil
palm after the establishment and maturation of the trees. Oil palms have extensive and
dense root systems that can stretch for several meters away from the tree base, and are
concentrated in the top 60cm of soil (Jourdan and Rey 1997). Although the Lachuá
Ecoregion typically receives ample rain (>2000mm/year) (INSIVUMEH 2003), several local
farmers as well as former oil palm plantation workers relayed concerns regarding the
permanent drying of soils on oil palm plantations, as well as the density of oil palm roots
not allowing for the cultivation of other crops after the trees are cut down. This issue,
along with the considerable economic barriers involved in altering crops, may significantly
obstruct response to oil palm-specific shocks to the food system (e.g. a drop in global oil
palm prices making local oil palm cultivation unviable).
Due to the absence of comprehensive studies, little is known about the effects of oil palm
and other land uses on the soils and nutrient cycling in this land-scarce region. A number
of surveyed staple crop farmers have expressed desire to improve soil management but
also frustration with their incapacity to do so due to lack of training and government
support. While the oil palm growers in Palm Village have received some training and
support from the ProPalma program, most cannot afford to invest in regular updated
training and do not have access to supports aimed at large agribusinesses through
organizations like GREPALMA (Gremial de Palmicultores de Guatemala, GREPALMA 2017).
Better access to training, along with other efforts to support different kinds of farming, are
urgently needed to improve land management practices and to boost the resilience of local
agricultural production.
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6.11 Discussion
Chapters 4 and 5 illustrated that the residents of Palm Village were unevenly impacted by
the expansions of the cash crop in their community, where about a third of the surveyed
households experienced an improvement and another third experienced deterioration in
food access since the establishment of oil palm. The differential impacts are expressed in
the food system vulnerability analysis, where the positive effects from oil palm expansion
mostly apply to a subset of the population. The limited group of oil palm beneficiaries,
including growers and their employees, obtain additional flexibility to switch between self-
provisioning (at least for those who have that option) and market-provisioning of food,
thereby increasing their capacity to adapt to some, but not all, food system shocks.
However, as in the case of community-wide increases of agricultural wages – what could be
a benefit to agricultural wage workers could serve as a disadvantage to labour-constrained
households, and even those same wage workers.
What vulnerability-focused analysis (summarized in Table 14) brings to the forefront is
that oil palm has intensified exposure to threats, stresses, and shocks in the already fragile
food system, and the vast majority of them apply to the entire village. In other words, even
the households that may have benefitted from oil palm in one way or another way will have
also suffered the negative consequences of oil palm along with the rest of the community.
The most telling examples include the reduction in access (or decreased affordability) to
firewood and the availability and access to fresh nutritious foods.
Another result of the analysis is that while many stresses and risks of shocks are
exacerbated, the capacity to adapt/cope to them is also diminished. For instance, as the
diversity of locally available employment is eroded, so are opportunities for obtaining new
job skills and experience that could increase household coping capacity to shocks in a
particular sector. The mounting consequences of ecological degradation, including
depleted soil and water resources, are threatening the long-term ability to grow food,
provision food from waterways, and to safely process and consume food. If oil palm
continues to expand (a likely trajectory based on results in Chapter 4), it will inevitably
further restrict access to remaining land, thereby compromising resources for the
production of staple foods and the much-needed diversification in food production.
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Further shrinkage of forested patches will also render them more vulnerable to
disturbance (Craven et al. 2016), with precipitating effects on water cycling and food and
firewood provisioning from forests (such as those that have already been witnessed).
Therefore, oil palm has weakened (and continues to weaken) the local food system as a
whole, despite the benefits felt by some.
Table 14: Summary of observed effects of oil palm expansion on food system
vulnerabilities (increased exposure to shocks, increased magnitude of stress, and/or
decreased capacity to cope/adapt).
Positive effects of oil palm expansion on food system vulnerability (decreasing vulnerability): Beneficiaries Disadvantaged
Community-wide increase in agricultural wages brought by
oil palm
Agricultural wage workers Staple grain producers that rely on wage labour; especially labour constrained HHs; oil
palm growers; wage workers (if fewer jobs available because
employers cannot afford hired labour)
Increased household income for oil palm employees
Households of oil palm workers (mostly young able-bodied males); some workers who are also staple
grain farmers (can afford more fertilizer)
More available oil palm employment
Oil palm workers (mostly young able-bodied males); migrant workers
Everyone (indirectly) from prevalence of precarious labour
Negative effects of oil palm expansion on food system vulnerability (increased vulnerability): Affected subpopulations Notes
Higher pressure on staple farmland
Staple farmers Limited mobility; more intensive farmland use and greater need for
fertilizer Staple grain wage labourers Less overall work available
Workers excluded from oil palm Less non-oil palm work available Everyone Lower nutritional diversity
(decreased availability nutritious perishables); compromised back-up
plans for food shortage periods
Higher pressure on forested land; fewer forest resources
Everyone Lower nutritional diversity; compromised back-up plans for food
shortage periods; decreased availability and increased costs of firewood; smaller forest patches more vulnerable to disturbance
Lower diversity in employment opportunities
Those excluded from oil palm employment; everyone
Less opportunity for learning and innovation
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Rising inequality in staple food access
At least one third of the Palm Village households
Already experiencing diminished access
Deterioration of inter- and intra-community relations
Everyone Obstructing cooperation to manage existing resources; impeding
institutional development Increased pressure on water
resources Everyone Lower access to water; higher risk of
water-borne diseases; long-term water cycle effects
Possible soil degradation Everyone Inhibiting long-term food production Damage to roads by oil palm
trucks Everyone Inhibiting food access and mobility;
increasing social tensions Higher exposure of Palm Village
to global commodity shocks Oil palm growers; oil palm
employees and their households
Local economy more tied to volatile global oil palm markets
Even more prominent is the introduction of a substantial vulnerability to global oil palm
market shocks, over which neither the oil palm contract farmers nor their host
communities have any effective leverage. It appears, in fact, that oil palm has broken down
some of the community-level adaptive capacity, which is crucial in dealing with large-scale
shocks such as a downturn in the oil palm market. The growing powerlessness to shield
the community from shocks is a key aspect of the emerging vulnerability (c.f. Chambers
2006), particularly in producing inequity in food access in the region (Dreze and Sen 1989;
Cote and Nightingale 2011).
Other concerning trends include precarization of labour, rising inequality in food access,
and deteriorating inter- and intra-community relations as a result of damaged
infrastructure, firewood scarcity, impeded transit, and problems with migrant labourers.
These trends are likely to form long-term roadblocks to institutional development,
cooperation, and capacity-building efforts at the community and beyond-community scales.
In other words, the spread of oil palm is deepening the social vulnerability (c.f. Watts and
Bohle 1993) of the host community by deepening its dependence on commodity markets
within which it is severely marginalized, while weakening local institutions that could help
counteract the negative effects of oil palm and build resilience. Given these trends, it is not
surprising that most of the current adaptation strategies to food system shocks remain at
level of the household, and have little impact beyond the household. For instance, in
response to shrinking land resources or employment prospects in their community/region,
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households can tweak their work strategies (e.g. redistribute family labour roles on their
farm; look for employment closer or further away), food provisioning approaches (e.g. shift
toward/away from purchasing food) and consumption (e.g. eat more of or refrain from
eating certain foods). Meanwhile, very little can be done at the household level to address
beyond-community disruptions or to counteract further changes in the food system (e.g. to
limit the spread of oil palm).
Evidence presented here suggests that oil palm has brought some development benefits,
including employment opportunities and increased incomes for some households in the
host community. Higher household income can give some households additional flexibility
to switch between self-provisioning and market-provisioning of food. However, oil palm
has exacerbated many food system vulnerabilities by heightening the magnitude and risk
of exposure to shocks, threats, and stresses and reducing the adaptive capacity of the
system as a whole. As oil palm continues to spread, consuming additional land and other
ecological resources and overtaking other employment opportunities, the food system will
likely continue to see rising inequality in food access and other social and ecological
vulnerabilities.
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Chapter 7
Conclusion
The two communities in this case study have struggled with chronic poverty and food
insecurity long before the introduction of oil palm into the region. Even now, the food
production, access, and consumption patterns in Maize Village and the oil palm-dominated
Palm Village continue to share many similarities. However, the ongoing expansion of oil
palm in Palm Village is altering a number of food system elements in food production,
distribution, and consumption, in a way that exacerbates existing vulnerabilities, reduces
adaptative capacity, and threatens food security now and in the future.
The analysis using the socio-ecological food system framework has highlighted the
importance of preserving ecological health – an often overlooked aspect of food security –
in maintaining food system resilience. In Palm and Maize villages, many attributes of the
food system are tied to ecological variables that have a high impact on local food
production, access, and consumption. The spread of oil palm has occurred without
consideration of the impacts on the limited local water resources, soil quality, and forests.
The apparent but insufficiently investigated or monitored effects on water, in an area that
lacks water infrastructure and management, are highly worrisome as residents continue to
depend on shallow wells and streams for their basic needs. An equally troubling issue is
that Palm Village residents have so far been unable to deal with many of the consequences
of environmental degradation, including declining water availability (and likely, quality)
and the increasing risk of vector- and water-borne diseases. The residents’ current
adaptation strategies, such as drawing water from shallow, typically dirty, streams when
wells are empty, and using park water for drinking and other activities such as laundry, are
likely heightening residents’ health risks and further polluting the remaining water.
Ecological resources are also critical for all members of the two communities for continuing
production of staple crops and retaining access to nutritious foods that are not easily
attainable on the market. As shown in Chapter 6, strictly improving individual purchasing
power does not do much to improve nutrition or counteract ecological and socio-economic
problems faced by households. When accompanied with rising food prices, income gains
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are reduced – if not completely erased – with respect to the market-provisioning of food,
particularly for nutritious foods with higher transportation and storage costs.
Food system analysis has shown that pressure on land is linked to an array of elements in
food production and access, all of which have been negatively impacted by oil palm
expansion. Land-based livelihood and food provisioning activities remain essential for the
local population, regardless of whether they own/work on oil palm farms. The seizure of
control over local land resources by oil palm growers is leading to heightened pressure on
staple farmland and forested land, which is exacerbating the vulnerability of the food
system to any type of shock. As demonstrated in Chapters 5 and 6, local production of
staples and local sourcing of fruits, vegetables, herbs, other types of food and firewood
remains important for the majority of households in the region that struggle with
intermittent and precarious employment. It is particularly critical for marginalized
households such as those that are excluded from oil palm employment for one or another
reason (as detailed in Chapter 4). Diminishing land resources for staple crops and forests
therefore not only compromise food security at the village level, but also deepen intra-
village inequality and significantly reduce adaptation/response options, especially for the
most resource-poor.
Oil palm employment and the associated income generation have been the focal points of
the rationale underpinning oil palm promotions initiatives like ProPalma, and permeating
the broader discourse of cash crops as catalysts of rural development and food security.
The results of this study illustrate that these benefits are not sufficient to strengthen food
entitlements and reduce food system vulnerability as in the Lachuá case. This is
particularly evident in the sample of households of oil palm employees in Palm Village, only
half of which saw their oil palm wages translate into better staple access. Yet, despite the
improvement, all except one of these households remained food insecure, suggesting that
the improvements are marginal and insufficient. By contrast, in Maize Village, staple food
access remained the same for most (77%) of households, with nearly 70% of the surveyed
households being confident in regular food access at all times of the year. The much higher
confidence in regular food access persists despite significantly lower average agricultural
wages in Maize Village (Chapter 4) and similar prevalence of temporary jobs. While Maize
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Village is by no means without deep socio-economic problems, the stark contrast in the
regularity of staple food access – a bare-minimum life necessity – suggests a less vulnerable
and more equitable food system in Maize Village.
The role of oil palm in fueling inter- and intra-village conflicts is an issue that warrants
further investigation. As outlined in Chapter 5, cooperation between households
contributes to lowering maize cultivation costs and maintaining safety nets for times of
hardship. Breaking down relationships can thus immediately compromise food access, as
well as impede institutional development and coordinated action for dealing with system
stressors. While more research is required to explore this issue, the presented results
suggest that given the limitations of the current food systems in the two villages,
community development may be more important for retaining food access than job
creation strictly speaking.
7.1 New agrarian extractivism and food system vulnerability
The contemporary agrarian transformation in the Guatemalan countryside, termed by
Alonso-Fradejas (2015) as ‘new agrarian extractivism’ of surplus value, is evident in this
case study. As the oil palm expanded at the expense of staple maize, forests, and other
types of agriculture, it devalued labour by eroding other-than-palm employment options
(c.f. Dürr 2016; Alonso-Fradejas 2012), propagating precarization, and threatening
subsistence agriculture – thereby deepening dependence on oil palm jobs. While the
observed rise in agricultural wages in Palm Village (discussed in Chapter 4) seems to
counter the proposition that the emerging regime devalues labour, this is arguably a minor
– and perhaps a temporary – boon for the local wage labourers that is overshadowed by the
larger trends of labour precarization (c.f. Hurtado and Sanchez 2012), undermining of
subsistence agriculture (c.f. Mingorría et al. 2014), and rising food prices (i.e. reduction of
real wages). The exclusivity of oil palm employment, the overwhelming lack of confidence
in the long-term viability of oil palm work (Chapter 3), as well as the staunch unwillingness
to abandon subsistence agriculture despite its high and rising costs (Chapter 4), all speak of
uncertainty in the local labour market and the risks of relying on market provisioning for
food. Thus, the ‘functional dualism’ – that is the co-dependence of the subsistence economy
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and commodity production – is not only maintained, but is further entrenched with
continued oil palm expansion.
Furthermore, unlike previous forms of agrarian extractivism, the push for oil palm and its
associated seizure of land control, has been driven heavily by financial actors and investors
far removed from oil palm cultivation, and controlled through the (flex) global commodity
value chains (Alonso-Fradejas 2015). This trend is illustrative of financialization in
agriculture described in Isakson (2014b) and Clapp and Isakson (2018), which has
exacerbated uncertainty in agricultural production and disproportionately affected
smallholders and subsistence farmers (Spratt 2013). This case study also exemplifies the
shift of power that a global commodity crop like oil palm brings into the impoverished host
community. In his 2016 paper, Gillon analyzed the dynamics of value and control in the
flex crop agri-industrial systems, asking ‘flexible for whom?’. In reality, the ‘flexibleness’ of
flex crops is harnessed at the top end of the value chain, that is, by the corporate actors and
investors with the power and resources to ‘flex’ products between demand centres and
‘flex’ the corresponding narratives between legitimizing discourses (Hunsberger and
Alonso-Fradejas 2016; Borras et al. 2015). At the same time, power and capital are
removed from the land, the farmers, and the agricultural labourers (Gillon 2016).
Much like the case of U.S. corn farmers described in Gillon (2016), oil palm farmers and
wage labourers in Lachuá have been sidelined from the negotiation of value distribution
within the oil palm complex. Instead, their agency was effectively limited by the initial
contracting terms devised by government officials and Palmas del Ixcán under ProPalma in
2007-08, and the historical socio-economic inequalities in land ownership/control and
labour relations in the Guatemalan agrarian sector. In the case of Palm Village, although
the oil palm contract farmers are in many ways more connected to their host communities
and their workforce than large agribusiness-owned plantations, they are subsumed in the
larger oil palm sector in a way that they themselves are marginalized. The contract
farmers’ resource constraints, and their dependence on, and lack of control over, the global
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oil palm prices, renders them vulnerable to adverse market events89. Thus, in re-orienting
local agriculture away from locally processed and consumed products towards far-
removed global markets, power is consolidated at the level of investors and large market
players, and taken away from the local small-scale producers, their employees, and the
impoverished consumers in their host communities. This shift is manifested as
vulnerability in the local food system, where the communities are becoming increasingly
dependent on the global oil palm market within which they are severely marginalized.
An aspect of the new agrarian extractivism (as per Alonso-Fradejas 2015) that had not yet
been thoroughly explored in literature is the role and value of nature. The case study in
this thesis framed natural elements and processes as constituents of the local food system,
where the research participants were illustrated as placing value on the environment for
its functions related to food provisioning90 (in other words, the natural endowments
translatable into food entitlements). However, the environmental functions are valued by
local residents (including oil palm farmers) insofar as their tangible utility in their
livelihoods can be perceived, mostly through the experience of loss (e.g. water shortages,
loss of forest-food stocks). In the absence of comprehensive monitoring or, for that matter,
the absence and/or inadequacy of environmental assessments for oil palm projects, leaves
the local population without a basis for measuring and understanding the functions of
environmental variables in their food system and other aspects of their livelihoods.
Without monitoring, it is particularly difficult to recognize changes in ecological slow
variables, which are critical for long-term ecosystem resilience (Garmestani and Allen
2014). It can be seen in this case study that in the oil-palm-based agrarian extractivism, the
value of ecosystem function is largely ignored (and thereby discounted), while the local
actors with interests to protect it are disempowered.
89 These could range from commodity market dips to surges in input price surges, changes in international
policies (e.g. biodiesel mandates), and divestures (e.g. divestment of Green Earth Fuels from Palmas del Ixcán in 2011).
90 This is not to say that the participants’ views on the natural environment are limited to this conceptualization.
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The in-flexibility of flex crop (i.e. oil palm) growers and their host community is also
expressed in the socio-ecological food system as the reduced capacity to adapt to system
stressors or shocks, especially on the ecological side. As value-appropriation and flexibility
increases at the level of beyond-community corporate finance, the local ecosystems suffer
from reduced flexibility/adaptability as they are overburdened by the crops’ ecological
requirements. As a result, all aspects of the food system that are linked to ecological health
are made more vulnerable and less capable of adaptation to further change. For example,
as sections of forest become more fragmented and disconnected because of oil palm
encroachment, the resilience of the forest ecosystem will decline, making it less tolerant to
natural and human-induced disturbances (Craven et al. 2016). Changes in forest cover,
particularly in riparian zones, alter stream conditions and water cycling, potentially leading
to unrecoverable losses in ecosystem function and resilience (Luke et al. 2017; de Souza et
al. 2013). These ecological changes have already weakened the food system in Palm
Village, leading to lower nutritional diversity (due to diminished availability and access to
nutritious perishable foods), compromised back-up plans for periods of low employment
or food shortage, and consistent problems with water access. So far, any economic benefits
from oil palm have not been anywhere enough to counter these losses – for instance to
invest in forest conservation, water infrastructure and monitoring, alternative food
provisioning strategies, and education and training required to carry out such projects.
The burgeoning agrarian extractivist regime driven by the rapid and unchecked oil palm
expansion in the study region is seen as exacerbating existing food system vulnerabilities,
and fostering new ones. An important issue that was not sufficiently explored in this thesis
is that resilience in food systems is becoming critical with the onset of climate change.
Central America is projected to experience potentially severe climate change effects that
would deeply threaten food security in the entire region, and beyond (UNFCCC 2016).
Changes in rainfall are of particular concern, as they will adversely affect crop yields and
available water. A drastic reduction (15-20%) in Central American maize and bean
production is expected by 2025 (Eitzinger et al. 2012), as well as sharply declining yields in
economically important cash crops such as coffee (Laderach et al. 2017). Having a high
water requirement, oil palm productivity is also likely to suffer under dryer conditions
(Carr 2011). Studies have called for urgent efforts to help farmers adapt to climate change.
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Some key recommendations for improving adaptation have included: supporting and
empowering smallholder farmers through extension services and training, building
networks, fostering knowledge-exchange and cooperation, investing in infrastructure (e.g.
irrigation), and securing land tenure (Harvey et al. 2018; Kumasi et al. 2017). It pertains to
note that the new agrarian extractivist regime in the Lachuá case is not supporting these
pathways to adaptation, but is observably breaking them down. As it stands, climate
change may very soon become the single most potent threat to food provisioning in the
study region, which, along with much of Central America is projected to be
disproportionately affected by droughts in the near future (IPCC 2014). Oil palm business
does not hold the ability to counteract these changes in climate and will very likely also
suffer from them. Therefore, the resilience and adaptive capacity of the socio-ecological
food system must be taken seriously in an already highly vulnerable region like Lachuá,
and thus must be thoroughly considered in any rural development strategy.
7.2 Pathways forward
The results shown here advocate stopping, or at the very least slowing down and carefully
monitoring the expansion of oil palm in the Lachuá Ecoregion as oil palm does not suffice
as a development strategy, and even less so as a food security strategy. Instead, other
pathways to reduce vulnerability and increase adaptation capacity are suggested,
including:
- Addressing long-standing vulnerabilities (land rights, poverty), investing in
infrastructure (water, roads), education, and social services
- Supporting traditional agriculture, building safety-nets, ensuring a fair distribution
of risk
- Building institutional capacity and networks; funding research and environmental
monitoring
- Diversifying local food production
Lachuá is a product of a history rife with dispossession and systemic oppression of the
indigenous peasants. The vulnerabilities of the socio-ecological food system can be
understood as symptoms or realizations of the social conditions that have been moulded
over time. Oil palm was therefore inserted into a space of deeply ingrained poverty, socio-
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economic inequality, insecure land rights, already-progressing land scarcity, and ecological
fragility. Perhaps the biggest folly of this approach to development was that it did not seek
to address these long-standing vulnerabilities, and as such, it exacerbated many of them
(why should it not have?). Without a conscious effort – and funding – to support education,
health, social services, and infrastructure, it seems unavailing to hope that a cash crop will
manifest improvements in these areas. A fruitful development strategy cannot shy away
from acknowledging the historical injustices that have caused existing vulnerabilities, and
addressing them in a conscientious way. The socio-ecological food system analysis
suggests that beyond-community assistance (e.g. from government) is needed due to the
social and economic limitations of individual households and communities, and the
growing prevalence of beyond-community stressors/shocks (e.g. ties to global markets;
climate change). At the same time, efforts to empower the communities, households, and
individuals are also important for reducing their vulnerability and increasing their capacity
to adapt.
Furthermore, development strategies must be more mindful of risk for the different socio-
economic groups (particularly the very poor), that is entailed in the proposed activities or
changes to the food system. In the case of contract farmers of oil palm (or other crops), a
fairer distribution of risk between the parties of the contract must be established – that is,
to allocate more risk to the contracting agribusiness which is better positioned to weather
price and production shocks (c.f. Cahyadi and Waibel 2015; Gatto et al. 2018). Provisions
must also be made in consideration of the evolving risks associated with climate change.
Many scholars have argued that effective development strategies must support subsistence
farmers through subsidizing farming inputs, technologies, training, and not least – helping
peasants secure land rights and curb land grabbing (Copeland 2018; Dürr 2016; Alonso-
Fradejas et al. 2011; de Janvry and Sadoulet 2010). Promoting agro-ecological practices
using farmer-to-farmer networks is a potential pathway to diversifying agriculture,
improving soil quality, reducing dependence on agrichemicals, and increasing resilience to
environmental stressors. The approach has seen some success in Central America in
helping to decrease agrichemical use while significantly increasing crop yields (Altieri and
Toledo 2011; Holt-Gimenez 2002). Farmer-to-farmer extension networks have also proven
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effective, cost-efficient, and successful in building local capacity (Bunch 1990; Holt-
Giménez 2006). Like other approaches, however, transformation towards agro-ecology
requires time and overcoming of barriers, and thus cannot be seen as an immediate
workable alternative to subsistence farming under current socio-economic conditions and
knowledge constraints (c.f. Carey 2009). The vital role of subsistence agriculture in local
food provisioning should not be understated, as well as its role in generating relatively
equitable (though still precarious) employment91. Following Copeland (2018), ‘meeting
peasants where they are’ – that is, supporting them in their pursuit of better conditions
within their current choice of livelihood (i.e. traditional farming) – would create a
practicable basis for deeper social transformations needed to remedy the historical roots of
vulnerability and build a resilient and sustainable food system, whether it be through agro-
ecology or another pathway.
As demonstrated in Chapter 5, maintaining inter-community cooperation and support
networks has been integral to keeping subsistence farming affordable in Maize Village (e.g.
via work-for-rent and work-for-work schemes). Similarly, building relationships and
networks can go a long way in bringing in and co-creating knowledge, fostering innovation,
and strengthening adaptation capacity in the communities. Access to reliable information
is a pervading challenge in the ecoregion, which is largely devoid of computing/internet
services, libraries, and other data/learning facilities. Oil palm is a befitting example, as
much of the locally available information about the crop had come from the oil palm
growers themselves and from the earlier oil palm promotional campaigns92. Connecting
the communities with researchers and other credible sources of information can support
informed decision-making and empower community members. Therefore, fostering peer
networks (c.f. Altieri and Toledo 2011; Holt-Giménez 2006) can be complemented with
91 A number of research participants have themselves expressed the need for support for maize cultivation,
especially in light of the rising costs of fertilizer and other inputs.
92 That notwithstanding, in one of the community workshops in Maize Village it was apparent that most participants did not know much about oil palm beyond hearsay from neighbours. Even a couple of participants who had some familiarity with the crop did not know where it had come from, what it was used for, or how widespread it had become in the country.
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strengthening partnerships with universities, international researchers, and NGOs. To
date, some initiatives led by San Carlos University professors and students have been
effective in providing advice, leading studies relevant to the community93, and even
conducting classes at the local schools. University-led workshops have also served as
forums for dialogue with leaders from other villages in the ecoregion, and a means of
engaging the local youth to start their own initiatives94. Linking academic services to the
needs of rural communities (e.g. extension services) is one way to bring the necessary tools
and expertise to tackle the critical water issues in the communities via ecological research,
water research and monitoring, and community training/engagement. So far, however,
most community-based, academic, and networking initiatives, have been heavily
constrained by funding and unsustainable in the long-run. While community projects and
network-building can be productive and cost-effective in stimulating development, they
require consistent funding. Such initiatives should also not be construed as a substitute for
long-term funding needed to establish basic healthcare, sanitation, education, and other
essential infrastructure and services.
Last, but no less important, is the necessity to diversify local food production (via adoption
of agro-ecological or other practices), specifically in an effort to increase ongoing access to
nutritious foods, reduce food purchasing expenditures, and reinforce fall-back food
provisioning options for times of shortage. Diversification of food production is an
important means of mitigating risks within the peasant economy, including those of pests
and crop disease, soil degradation, and adverse weather/environmental events (Ellis 1993)
While it may appear a fairly simple and intuitive proposition, experience in the field
suggests that the dynamics of provisioning and consumption choice are far from straight
forward. Many questions remain not only about the potential constraints in fruit,
93 Examples are numerous. During field work for this project, I have seen San Carlos students do projects on
micro-basin mapping (to better understand water flows for recommending toilet facility placement and other planning uses), garbage disposal methods, food nutrition and safety, crafts and woodworking. In the past, researchers also helped to bring in doctors to one of the communities to conduct a health assessment, brought educational materials, and trained locals in various skills.
94 For example: begin taking well measurements to track changes in water levels; forming a music group.
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vegetable, and herb cultivation (i.e. is it possible and affordable?), but also with respect to
the cultural relationship with food (i.e. what governs food choices and motivates changes in
food production and consumption?). A telling example is a large citrus tree in Palm Village
whose fruits are more often used as soccer balls than eaten. The perceptions of
‘healthiness’ or ‘unhealthiness’ of foods, as well as the limited knowledge on nutrition and
food preparation are important research avenues to consider.
At least two initiatives to diversify food production and diet in indigenous Mayan
communities have recently taken hold. A small NGO based in the town of Cobán, some
three hours away by car, had begun conducting cooking workshops in Mayan communities,
including one in Maize Village in 2015. The workshop was very well received in the
community, particularly because it focused on traditional Mayan recipes using foods that
are available and/or can be grown locally. Another initiative began around 2007 in Belize
to build a network of Mayan farmers (currently in Belize and Guatemala) and train
communities in cultivating Mayan forest gardens. This collaborative effort incorporates
many principles of agroecology (Altieri and Toledo 2011), and works to teach and share
knowledge about cultivation and use of plants, soils, gardening techniques, and forest
conservation (El Pilar Forest Garden Network 2011). One of the key goals of the network is
to preserve (and revive) the cultural heritage of the Maya, including traditional knowledge
about plants, and sustainable agricultural practices of the Maya forest95.
The two examples of Maya-focused initiatives represent important steps forward in
empowering Mayan communities through culturally relevant community development.
However, their scope of reach has been very limited and contingent upon (small, irregular)
funding and circumstantial factors. A much more concerted effort and on-going funding is
required to up-scale projects like this. As it currently stands, significant support is needed
in the two study villages to achieve food system diversification – including assistance in
95 There is archeological evidence that Mayan Forest gardens existed in the Lachuá Ecoregion before colonization (Avendaño 2012) – a fact that has inspired interest in some community members to learn more about traditional forest gardening.
186
obtaining seeds and other inputs, (re)learning specific cultivation techniques, and training
in nutrition and food preparation.
The key recommendations from this case study include promoting culturally-appropriate
agricultural diversification and healthier food consumption, along with community-based
training and network-building. However, supporting staple crop agriculture and investing
in health, education, infrastructure, and other social services remain the top priorities for
maintaining the residents’ access to basic life necessities. Oil palm or no oil palm, future
development strategies must focus on food system resilience and equity. For any cash crop
to yield benefits, existing vulnerabilities must be remedied, and adaptative capacity must
be built not only at the household scale, but also at community, regional, and national
scales so as to be able to successfully respond to systemic change.
187
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222
Appendix A – Field Interviews
Field interviews conducted for this project.
1. Maize Village community leader 1, male April 10, 2014.
2. Maize Village community leader 2, male April 10, 2014.
3. Two employees of local NGO1, female April 10, 2014.
4. Maize Village community leader 2, male April 11, 2014.
5. Two MARN (Ministry of Natural Resources) employees, male and female
April 12, 2015.
6. Maize Village community leader 2, male January 13, 2015.
7. Maize Village community leader 3, male January 13, 2015.
8. Maize Village community leader 4, male January 14, 2015.
9. Maize Village store owner 1, male January 14, 2015.
10. Maize Village resident couple (oil palm wage labourers), male and female
January 14, 2015.
11. Maize Village community leader 2, male April 12, 2015.
12. Two Palm Village residents, female April 13, 2015.
13. Palm Village oil palm grower (OPG4), male April 14, 2015.
14. Palm Village community leader 1, male April 14, 2015.
15. Palm Village community leader 2, male April 14, 2015.
16. Employee of local NGO2, male April 14, 2015.
17. Leader of another community in Lachuá, male April 16, 2015.
18. Residents of a remote community in Lachuá, male and female April 16, 2015.
19. Leader of another community in Lachuá, male April 16, 2015.
20. Palm Village community leaders (COCODE) 2 and 3, male, Appendix E
April 15, 2015.
21. Two oil palm day labourers from Palm Village, male April 20, 2015.
22. Oil palm grower in Palm Village (OPG4), male April 25, 2015.
23. Two national park employees, male April 26, 2015.
24. GREPALMA representative, female, Appendix F April 28, 2015.
25. Oil palm grower (OPG4) in Palm Village, male October 20, 2015.
26. Oil palm grower (OPG1) in Palm Village, male October 20, 2015.
27. Oil palm grower (OPG5) in Palm Village, male, Appendix D October 20, 2015.
28. Employee of a local NGO3, male October 23, 2015.
29. Two Oil Palm day labourers from Palm Village, male October 24, 2015.
30. Palm Village, oil palm employee, male October 24, 2015.
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Appendix B – Community Workshops
1. Workshop 1, April 12, 2014.
Introduction of project to community members in Maize Village
Members and/or leaders from other communities in the Lachuá Ecoregion
were also present
~25 total attendees, mostly adult males.
Solicited feedback on proposed oil palm project.
Participants had many questions about oil palm, including:
What is oil palm for? How is it consumed?
Where does oil palm come from? Does it grow in Canada?
Do other places where oil palm grows have similar problems?
What can we (researchers) do to help?
Is it possible to give more workshops in other villages?
2. Workshop 2, January 10, 2015.
Mapping workshop about land use in Maize Village
~40 attendees, mostly women and children.
Participants created maps of land use in their village – current versus 10
years ago.
3. Workshop 3, April 11, 2015.
Presented project proposal to leaders from Palm Village, Maize Village, with
leaders from at least three other villages in Lachuá also in attendance.
~12 total attendees, mostly adult males.
Participants brought up many issues they believe to be relevant in the
ecoregion, such as fungus and moscas (flies) from oil palm affecting
residents’ health, possible contamination of rivers by oil palm growers,
young people leaving villages to look for jobs elsewhere, lack of access to
credit for subsistence farmers, need for training for subsistence farmers, and
poverty.
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Appendix C – Store Owner Survey Guide
Maize
1. Do you sell maize? Yes__ No__
Sells maize:
2. Where do you get the maize (e.g. from people in community, camioneros, canabal,
etc.)?
3. Is this a reliable/consistent source of maize?
a. If no, why not?
4. Do you purchase the maize from them (and re-sell)?
5. What is the price that you pay for the maize when you buy it?
6. Is the price different at different times of the year?
a. What are the maize prices at different months?
7. Has the price of maize changed in the last 10 years?
a. How has it changed (price 10 years ago, 5 years ago, now)?
8. Are there times in the year when there is no maize available to sell?
a. When?
b. Why?
9. How much corn do you sell per month?
Jan Feb March April May June July Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec
10. What is the price of maize that you sell it at?
a. Is the price different at different months? If yes, what are the prices at diff
months?
Beans
1. Do you sell beans? Yes__ No__
Sells beans:
2. Where do you get the beans (e.g. from people in community, camioneros, canabal,
etc.)?
3. Is this a reliable/consistent source of beans?
a. If no, why not?
4. Do you purchase the beans from them (and re-sell)?
5. What is the price that you pay for the beans when you buy it?
6. Is the price different at different times of the year?
a. What are the bean prices at different months?
7. Has the price of beans changed in the last 10 years?
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a. How has it changed (price 10 years ago, 5 years ago, now)?
8. Are there times in the year when there is no beans available to sell?
a. When?
b. Why?
9. How much beans do you sell per month?
Jan Feb March April May June July Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec
10. What is the price of beans that you sell it at?
a. Is the price different at different months? If yes, what are the prices at diff
months?
Vegetables and Fruits
1. Do you sell vegetables? Yes__ No__
2. Which vegetables do you usually sell?
3. Where do you get the vegetables that you sell?
4. How much vegetables do you normally sell in a week (all together)?
5. Are there specific months when you sell fewer vegetables?
a. Which months?
b. Why?
6. Do you sell fruits? Yes__ No__
7. Which fruits do you usually sell?
8. Where do you get the fruits that you sell?
9. How much fruits do you normally sell in a week (all together)?
10. Are there specific months when you sell fewer fruits?
a. Which months?
b. Why?
Eggs
1. Do you sell eggs? Yes__ No__
2. Where do you get your eggs?
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“Junk Food” (Candy, chips, soft drinks, etc)
1. Where do you get the junk food that you sell (e.g. buy from cantabal, etc.)?
2. How much junk food (chips, candy, soft drinks, etc.) do you sell in a week (~total in
Quetzales)?
3. Has the amount increased or decreased in the last 10 years?
a. Why?
4. Has the price of junk food changed in the last 10 years?
a. How/how much?
General
1. What are the most common food items that people buy from your store (the most
important income source for the store)?
2. Are there any food types that you sold before (10 years ago), that you don’t sell any
more?
a. What are they?
b. Why don’t you sell them any more?
3. Are there any food types that you didn’t sell 10 years ago, but you sell now?
a. What are they?
b. Why didn’t you sell them before?
4. Where are your customers from? (e.g. this community, other communities?)
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Appendix D – OPG Interview Guide
Sample interview guide for OPG4 and OPG5. There were three total interviews with OPG4,
who provided information beyond the question listed here.
1. How did you start growing oil palm?
2. How did you finance your start?
3. Did you buy land in order to start your oil palm farm?
4. Do you work under contract with Palmas del Ixcán or another company?
5. What is the size of your farm?
6. How many workers do you employ?
7. How do you hire your workers?
8. For how long do you generally hire your workers?
9. How are your workers paid?
10. Where are your workers from? Are they from this community or other
communities?
11. Do you hire from other communities? Why/why not?
12. Who do you sell your fruit to?
13. Who transports the fruit? Where? How?
14. Are there any rules for establishing an oil palm farm in Guatemala?
15. Are there any environmental rules?
16. Are there any rules about consultations with the community?
17. Do you think oil palm is a good business? Why/why not?
18. Are you planning to expand production in the future? Where?
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Appendix E – COCODE Interview Guide
Interview with two COCODE representatives (community leaders) from Palm Village.
1. Can you tell us about the history of the community?
2. What are the main income/work opportunities in the community?
3. What are the main reasons, that you know of, for people to sell land in the
community?
4. What are the main economic problems in the community?
5. Are there conflicts within the community, that you know of?
6. Are there conflicts between residents of this community and other communities,
that you know of?
7. Do land owners in the community generally have titles to their lands?
8. What are the main benefits of oil palm in the community?
9. Are there any problems associated with oil palm in the community? What kind of
problems?
10. We want to conduct an in-depth study about oil palm in the community, and in the
rest of the ecoregion. Do you have any questions that you would like to have
answered from this study?
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Appendix F – GREPALMA Interview Guide
Interview guide for GREPALMA representative. This was the preliminary guide, however,
the interview turned out quite different. The representative also had a presentation and
video that she shared.
1. How did GREPALMA start?
2. Why did it start?
3. There was a government initiative in 2007-2008 to promote oil palm. Do you know
about it?
4. Who are the members of your organization?
5. What are there any requirements to obtain membership?
6. How do you unite the oil palm producers?
7. What are the benefits of being a member of GREPALMA?
8. (Referencing the ‘Law Enforcement’ pillar from the GREPALMA website)
a. What do you enforce?
b. How do you enforce it?
c. If one of your members has a problem with people breaking the law, how do
you help them?
9. Do you engage the communities in which the oil palm businesses work? How?
10. (Referencing the ‘Social and Environmental Commitment’ pillar from the
GREPALMA website) How do you promote awareness?
11. Do your members have any environmental certifications?
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Appendix G – Household Survey Guide (English)
A. CHARACTERISTICS
Respondent
1. Respondent gender: male __ female __
2. Respondent age group: 15-20 20-30 30-40 40-50 50-60 60+
3. Level of education of respondent:
None___ grade 5 or less___ some high school__ some university__
4. (interviewer observation) Respondent’s level of Spanish: Zero__ Basic__
Medium__ Strong__
5. How long have you lived in this community? _______________
6. Current Household (People living in the same house for at least 6 months)
Household member Age For kids: does he/she go to school?
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7. Former household members (last ~7 years)? E.g. kids that moved away
Household member Age Where is he/she now?
Does they continue to contribute to the household (e.g. send money)?
Does your household help support him/her (e.g. send him/her money)?
8. Household assets
Asset type How many does household own?
Store
Car/pickup truck
Motorcycle
Molina
Cattle
Chickens
Large tools (e.g. chainsaw)
Interviewer Observations: - jot down before/after interview
9. Observations regarding quality of housing:
i. Building material (wood/brick/concrete/other)
ii. Size of house (2-floor/large/small)
iii. Floor type (mud/other)
iv. Furnishings – overall quality
v. Decorations
vi. Overall impression
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B. LAND PARCEL(S)
10. Does household have land parcel(s)? Yes __ No __
YES, HOUSEHOLD HAS LAND PARCEL(S)
11. How many parcels does the household currently have? ___
12. Total size of parcel 1 (manzanas): ___________________
13. PARCEL 1 LAND USES *** NOT including land that the household rents out to other
people
PARCEL 1 - Land Uses (past and present)
Time 1 use Area (mz) Time 2 use Area (mz) Time 3 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
Present Present ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
Parcel 1 – Land Uses (continued)
Time 4 use Area (mz) Time 5 use Area (mz) Time 6 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
? ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
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IF HOUSEHOLD HAS A SECOND PARCEL:
14. Total size of parcel 2 (manzanas): ___________________
15. PARCEL 2 LAND USES
16. PARCEL 2 (if relevant) - Land Uses (past and present) *** NOT including land that
the household rents out to other people
Time 1 use Area (mz) Time 2 use Area (mz) Time 3 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
Present Present ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
Parcel 2 – Land Uses (continued)
Time 4 use Area (mz) Time 5 use Area (mz) Time 6 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
? ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
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IF HOUSEHOLD HAS A THIRD PARCEL:
17. Total size of parcel 3 (manzanas): ___________________
18. PARCEL 3 LAND USES *** NOT including land that the household rents out to other
people
PARCEL 3 (if relevant) - Land Uses (past and present)
Time 1 use Area (mz) Time 2 use Area (mz) Time 3 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
Present Present ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
Parcel 3 – Land Uses (continued)
Time 4 use Area (mz) Time 5 use Area (mz) Time 6 use Area (mz)
When? (e.g. 2 yrs ago) ->
? ? ?
Corn/milpa
Beans
Forest
Cattle
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LAND TENURE
19. Does your household rent your land parcel(s)?
All rented__ partly rented__ not rented__
If the parcel (or part of parcel) is rented:
20. Who is the parcel rented from? __________________
21. What is the price of the rent? _______________
22. Does your household own your land parcel(s)?
All owned__ partly owned__ not owned__
If the parcel is (or part of parcel) is owned:
23. Does your household hold a formal title (ownership) or possession of the parcel? Yes__
No__
24. Do you rent out part of your owned land to other households? Yes__ No__
If Yes, owns land and rents to other households:
25. How much do you charge for rent?
If the parcel is neither rented nor owned:
26. Describe the possession terms of the parcel.
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LAND USE
If household grows crops on parcel(s)
27. Do you sell a part of what you grow? Yes__ No__
If Yes (sell part of crops):
28. Annual crop sales
Crop How much is sold per year? (e.g. 10 kg)
Selling Price (Q/unit)
29. Who do you sell to? (neighbours, town?)
30. Do you use agrochemicals on your plot? (fertilizer, pesticide, herbicide)
Yes_ No__
If Yes (use agrochemicals):
31. How much do you spend on agrochemicals per year?
If No (no agrochemicals):
32. Why do you not use agrochemicals?
33. From your household, who works on the parcel?
Family member (male head of family, son/daughter, etc)
Main tasks Only works during key periods (e.g. planting, harvest)
237
Do you hire laborers to work on your parcel? Yes__ No__
If yes (hire laborers for parcel):
34. What type of work are they hired for, how many laborers, and what are the costs?
Type of work (e.g. planting, cleaning, harvesting, etc.)
Crop How many hired laborers?
For how long are the laborers hired for?
Cost of laborer (Q/day or another measure)
35. Which community (communities) are the laborers from?
238
36. What are the other significant expenditures for crop production on your parcel?
Expenditure type Cost (Q)
________________________ _____________
________________________ _______________
________________________ _______________
________________________ _______________
CHANGES IN LAND HOLDINGS
37. At any point in the last 10 years, has your household had less land than it has now (less
parcels, or smaller parcel)? Yes__ No (same amount or more)__
If Yes (household had less land before):
38. How much land did you have before?
39. Why did you decide to acquire more land?
If No (household did not have less land before):
40. In the last 10 years, has your household had any more land than it has now (more parcels,
or larger parcel)? Yes__ No__
If Yes (household used to have more land)
41. Which community was the additional land in?
42. What was the size of the additional land?
43. Until when did your household have the additional land?
44. What were last the land uses of additional land, while your household had it?
Land Use Type Area
Forest
Crops
Cattle
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45. Did your household own the parcel or was it rented?
Owned__ Rented __ Combination__ Neither__ (Owned or
combination to 69; Rented to 76; Neither to 78)
If additional land was owned or combination:
46. Was it sold? Yes__ No__
If Yes (additional land was sold):
47. Who was it sold to? _____________
48. If you know, what did the buyer intend to use the land for? _______________
49. What was the selling price? ___________
50. Why did your household sell the land? ________________
If No (additional land was not sold):
51. What happened to the additional land? _____________
If additional land was rented:
52. Who was the additional land rented from? ____________
53. Why is your household no longer renting the parcel? ________________
If additional land was neither owned nor rented:
54. What happened to the land?
55. Do you feel that your household is better off without the additional land? Why/Why not?
240
--
NO, HOUSEHOLD DOES NOT HAVE LAND PARCEL
56. In the last 10 years, has your household had any land parcel?
Yes__ No__
If Yes (household had land parcel in the past):
57. Which community was the parcel in? ____________
58. What was the size of the parcel? ____________
59. Until when did your household have the parcel? ____________
60. What were the main land uses of the parcel?
Land Use Type Area
Forest
Crops
Cattle
If crops were grown on parcel:
61. Did your household own the parcel or was it rented?
Owned__ Rented __ Combination__ Neither__ (Owned or
combination to 91; Rented to 97; Neither to 99)
If land was owned or combination:
62. Did your household have a formal title to the land, or possession?
63. Was the land sold? Yes__ No__
If Yes (land was sold):
64. Who was it sold to? _____________
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65. What was the selling price? ___________
66. If you know, what did the buyer intend to use the land for? _______________
67. Why did your household sell the land? ________________
If No (land was not sold):
68. What happened to the additional land? _____________
If land was rented:
69. Who was the additional land rented from? ____________
70. Why is your household no longer renting the parcel? ________________
If land was neither owned nor rented:
71. What happened to the land?
72. Do you feel that your household is better off without the additional land? Why/Why not?
C. HOUSEHOLD INCOME SOURCES
73. Does anyone from your household currently work on a palm farm / plantation? Yes__
No__
If someone from household works on palm:
74.
Household Member working on palm farm
Name of farm
Farm location (community)
How long have they worked on palm farm?
Temporary? (1 year or less)
Compensation (Q/day)
1.
2.
3.
4.
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Palm worker 1:
75. Did you/household member need any special qualifications or experience to get the job at
the palm farm/plantation? If so, what kind?
If palm job is temporary:
76. How long is the working period?
77. Is there an opportunity to return for another working period in the future?
If palm job is not temporary:
78. How long do you/household member expect to continue to work there?
79. Do you consider the job at the palm farm/plantation to be a reliable long-term job (e.g.
for 5 years)? If not, why not?
Palm worker 2:
80. Did you/household member need any special qualifications or experience to get the job at
the palm farm/plantation? If so, what kind?
If palm job is temporary:
81. How long is the working period?
82. Is there an opportunity to return for another working period in the future?
If palm job is not temporary:
83. How long do you/household member expect to continue to work there?
84. Do you consider the job at the palm farm/plantation to be a reliable long-term job (e.g.
for 5 years)? If not, why not?
Palm worker 3:
85. Did you/household member need any special qualifications or experience to get the job at
the palm farm/plantation? If so, what kind?
If palm job is temporary:
86. How long is the working period?
87. Is there an opportunity to return for another working period in the future?
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If palm job is not temporary:
88. How long do you/household member expect to continue to work there?
89. Do you consider the job at the palm farm/plantation to be a reliable long-term job (e.g.
for 5 years)? If not, why not?
Palm worker 4:
90. Did you/household member need any special qualifications or experience to get the job at
the palm farm/plantation? If so, what kind?
If palm job is temporary:
91. How long is the working period?
92. Is there an opportunity to return for another working period in the future?
If palm job is not temporary:
93. How long do you/household member expect to continue to work there?
94. Do you consider the job at the palm farm/plantation to be a reliable long-term job (e.g.
for 5 years)? If not, why not?
---
95. What are the main benefits of having a household member work on an oil palm
farm/plantation?
96. Are there any negative aspects to having a household member work on a palm
farm/plantation? Yes__ No__
97. What are the negative aspects?
98. Has your household income increased, as a result of the household member(s) working
on a palm farm/plantation? Increased__ Decreased__ the same__
If income increased:
99. By how much, approximately has it increased?
If income decreased:
100. By how much approximately has it decreased?
101. Why has it decreased?
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102. A result of the household member(s) working on a palm farm/plantation, has your
household income become more reliable and consistent throughout the year?
More reliable__ Less reliable__ the same__
103. Has the oil palm work enabled your household to make large purchases that you
couldn’t make before, for example work tools, electronics, vehicles, etc.? What kind of
purchases?
104. Have the children (under 10 yrs) in your household (if applicable) benefitted from
a household member working on oil palm? If yes, how have they benefitted?
105. In your opinion, do palm farms/plantations offer good employment opportunities?
Why/why not?
106. Other main sources of household income (for both cases: if household members
work on plantation and not)
Family member (male head of family, son/daughter, etc)
Type of work (e.g. labor on other farms/construction/other)
Number of months in a year they engage in this activity
Amount earned (Q) on monthly basis
Monetary cost (Q) of conducting the activity (e.g. materials, transportation)
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If NO household members work on a palm farm/plantation
107. Has anyone from your household ever worked on a palm farm / plantation in the
past (in this or another community)? Yes__ No__
Yes, a household member worked on palm in the past:
108. Was it a temporary or permanent job?
If temporary:
109. How long was the working period?
110. Was it owned by a large agribusiness (e.g. Palmas del Ixcan), or by a private
owner (finquero)?
111. Where was this palm farm/plantation located?
112. When did you/he/she work on a palm farm/plantation?
113. What were the main benefits of having a household member work on a palm
farm/plantation?
114. If there were any negative aspects to having a household member work on a palm
farm/plantation, what were they?
115. Why did the household member stop working at the palm farm/plantation?
116. Given the opportunity, would you/he/she work on a palm farm/plantation again?
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117. Did anyone else from your household try to get work at a palm farm/plantation
and could not get it? Yes__ No__
If NO household member has ever worked on palm in the past:
118. Did anyone from your household ever try to get work on a palm farm/plantation?
Yes__ No__
If yes, household member unsuccessfully tried to get work on palm
farm/plantation:
119. Was it owned by a large agribusiness (e.g. Palmas del Ixcan), or by a private
owner (finquero)?
120. Why did you/he/she not get the job?
__
D. HOUSEHOLD CONSUMPTION
Food
121. Which types of food does your household usually EAT (and BUY)?
Food Type How much is consumed per week (unit) in household
Usually Buy
Cost of food (if BOUGHT): Q/unit
Corn
Beans
Rice
Pasta
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Eggs
Chicken
Sugar
Cooking Oil
122. Does your household obtain any food (i.e. fish) or other products (not food) from
rivers and lakes?
Food/product type Amount used (per week**)
123. If household obtains food/products from rivers and lakes: which rivers/lakes do
you usually obtain them from?
124. Does your household obtain any food or other products from the forest (e.g.
plants, animals)?
Food/product type Amount used (per week**)
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125. If household obtains products from forest: which forest(s) do you usually get
these products from?
126. Are the river/lake products more or less difficult to get now than before (5-7
years)? Why?
127. Are forest products more or less difficult to get than before (5-7 years)? Why?
128. Is firewood used in your household? Yes__ No__
No, firewood is not used in household:
129. What is used instead of firewood?
130. Where does your household obtain this fuel?
Yes, firewood is used in household:
131. Where do you usually get the firewood?
132. Who, from your household, collects the firewood?
133. How long does it take to collect the firewood?
134. Is it more or less difficult to collect it now, compared to before (5-7 years)?
Water
135. Where do your household obtain water for household use?
136. Where does your household obtain its water for drinking?
137. How is your drinking water usually treated (boiling, filtering, other)?
138. Are there ever times when your household has a shortage of water?
Yes__ No__
Yes, household experiences water shortages:
139. How often do water shortages happen?
140. Are there any specific times or seasons when water shortages happen more often?
If so, what are they?
141. What does your household do when there is a shortage of water?
142. Are shortages more or less frequent than they were before (5-7 years ago)? Why?
143. Out of the foods you currently eat, in the last 5-7 years, have there been changes
in where you obtain the food (e.g. used to grow, but now buy or buy somewhere else)?
Yes__ No__
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If Yes, changes in sources of household food:
144. Describe the changes in food sources
Food Type Where did you get it before?
Reason for change (e.g. price difference, difference in availability, etc)
Corn
Beans
145. Are there any foods that you and people in your household used to eat 5-7 years
ago that you no longer eat? If so, which foods?
Food no longer consumed Reason why no longer consumed
146. Are there any foods that you and the people in your household eat LESS now than
5-7 years ago? If so, which foods?
Foods eaten less Reason why eaten less
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147. Are there any foods that you and the people in your household eat recently that
you never used to eat 5-7 years ago? If so, which foods?
New foods consumed Reason why they were not consumed before
148. Are there any foods that you and the people in your household eat MORE now
than 5-7 years ago? If so, which foods?
New foods consumed Reason why they were not consumed before
149. In your household, is there ever uncertainty about whether or not you will have
enough food to eat in that week? Yes__ No__
If Yes, there is uncertainty about food in household:
150. Why does this happen?
151. How often is there uncertainty in your household about having food to eat?
152. Are there certain months of the year when there is more uncertainty? If so, what
are they, and why?
153. In the last 5-7 years, has your certainty about having food to eat improved, gotten
worse, or the same?
Improved__ Worse__ The same__
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If worse or the same:
154. What do you believe caused the changes?
Oil Palm in the Community
Livelihood Activities
155. In your opinion, since the establishment of oil palm, has it become easier or
harder to obtain employment (in general, not necessarily on oil palm) for people in your
community?
Easier__ Harder__ The same__
156. If Easier/Harder, why?
157. In your opinion, since the establishment of oil palm, have some jobs disappeared
in your community? If so, what kinds of jobs disappeared?
158. In your opinion, since the establishment of oil palm, has it become easier or
harder to farm staple crops (corn, beans) for people in your community?
Easier__ Harder__ The same__
159. If easier/harder, why?
Water
160. Since the establishment of oil palm (in the last 5-7 yrs) have has your household
experienced any more difficulty accessing water, compared to before the palm came (e.g.
less water in general, blocked rivers)?
Yes__ No__
Yes, noticed changes in availability of water:
161. What kind of changes?
162. What, in your opinion, are the causes of these changes?
163. Since the establishment of oil palm (in the last 5-7 yrs) have you noticed any
difference in quality of water that you use in your household?
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Yes__ No__
Yes, noticed changes in quality of water:
164. What kind of changes?
E. OIL PALM: GENERAL OPINION
165. In your opinion, what kind of benefits have the oil palm farms brought to your
community?
166. In your opinion, have the oil palm farms in your community brought problems to
your community? If so, what kinds of problems?
--
F. PALM LAND TRANSACTIONS
ONLY If household OWNED land and SOLD it to a palm grower OR SOLD PART
OF their owned land to a PALM GROWER
167. When your household sold your land to the palm grower, can you describe how
did the palm grower approach you (e.g. friendly/ open to negotiation/was there pressure)
168. What were the main reasons for selling the land?
169. When your household sold the land, did the buyer offer anything in return in
addition to the purchase money for the land? Yes__ No__
If yes, palm grower offered additional benefits:
170. What did they offer (job on plantation, improved roads, etc)?
171. Did they provide the benefits that they promised? Yes__ No__
If no, palm grower did not provide promised benefits:
172. Which benefits did they fail to provide?
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173. Overall, do you feel that your household was compensated fairly for the land that
you sold? Yes__ No__
If no, feels that compensation was not fair:
174. Why do you feel that it was not fair?
175. What would you consider to be fair compensation?
If household OWNS land and DID NOT sell to a palm grower
176. Has your household ever been approached by an oil palm grower to purchase your
land? Yes__ No__
If Yes, household was approached by oil palm grower:
177. Did they try to pressure your household to sell? Yes__ No__
If Yes, tried to pressure:
178. How did they try to pressure your household?
179. How did your household respond to the pressure?
180. What compensation did the palm grower offer for your land?
181. Did you consider this to be fair compensation? Yes__ No__
182. What were the main reasons for your household refusing to sell the land?
If no, household was never approached by oil palm grower
183. If your household was approached by an oil palm grower, do you think you would
you consider selling your land? Yes__ No__
If yes, would consider selling land:
184. What are your main reasons for considering selling the land?
185. What would you consider to be a good compensation offer for your land?
186. What do you think your household will do after selling the land?
If no, would not consider selling land:
187. What are your main reasons for not considering selling the land?
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Copyright Acknowledgements
Much of the content of Chapter 4: Land, Labour, and Development in the Oil Palm Host
Community was published in 2019 in The Journal of Peasant Studies (Hervas, A. 2019.
Land, development and contract farming on the Guatemalan oil palm frontier. The Journal
of Peasant Studies 46(1): 115-141. 10.1080/03066150.2017.1351435).