The expansion of livestock farming in the Brazilian Amazon and the limits of growth

Written by Gabriel Cavalcante (MA Environment, Development and Policy)

The expansion of livestock farming in the Brazilian Amazon has transformed one of the world’s most crucial ecosystems into a global beef supplier. This economic growth has come with significant environmental and social costs, as livestock farming remains a principal driver of deforestation, biodiversity loss, and greenhouse gas emissions in the region. This article examines the political economy of livestock expansion in the Amazon through the lens of Degrowth theory.

Global demand and government incentives have driven the expansion of this sector, making Brazil one of the largest greenhouse gas emitters due to deforestation in the region. This growth model has far-reaching consequences: it not only accelerates environmental degradation but also threatens Indigenous land rights and displaces rural communities. By examining these dynamics, we can explore how Degrowth theory challenges the prioritisation of economic expansion at all costs, offering alternative models that centre on ecological conservation and social equity.

Cattle grazing on illegal livestock farm in conservation reserve land under forest fire smoke in deforestation area in the Amazon Rainforest, Brazil. Concept of environment, ecology, destruction. Available here

The Amazonian livestock industry is significantly shaped by the global neoliberal model, which promotes GDP growth as an ultimate benchmark of progress. Global demand for beef—primarily from Global North nations—drives large-scale cattle production in the Amazon, incentivizing extensive deforestation to create pastures for livestock. In 2023, Brazil exported a record 2.29 million tons of beef to 157 countries across all continents, reinforcing its position as a major global supplier (ABIEC, 2024). This demand is underpinned by a complex web of international trade agreements and corporate interests that prioritise low-cost production. The ongoing trend of resource extraction from developing regions, historically rooted in colonial exploitation, persists under globalisation. This dynamic enables wealth accumulation and consumption in developed nations while imposing ecological burdens on regions like the Amazon, which serves to supply commodities such as beef to the global market.

The resulting dynamic pressures Brazil to cater to these markets by scaling up livestock output, often at the expense of its environmental commitments. These policies and practices reflect a broader failure to recognize the ecological cost of this model, where the value of ecosystems is reduced to their immediate economic outputs rather than their role in sustaining life and climate stability. This paradigm supports the intensive exploitation of natural resources, often with little regard for the ecological degradation and social inequities it incurs. As Sullivan (2009) critiques, this capitalist approach treats environmental crises as opportunities for profit, where ecosystems are commodified for market gains, despite the long-term harm inflicted on both biodiversity and the communities that depend on these lands.

The expansion of livestock in the Amazon is evident, with states like Pará and Rondônia showing significant increases in herd size—Pará saw an 8.1% growth between 2013 and 2023, while Rondônia reached approximately 13.8 million heads in 2023  (ABIEC, 2024). This expansion shows that more areas are being converted into pastures, a process often associated with deforestation in the Amazon. According to Amazônia 2030, over 65% of deforested land in the Amazon is now dedicated to low-efficiency pastures, supporting fewer than one head of cattle per hectare. Moreover, in major livestock-producing states such as Mato Grosso, Pará, and Rondônia, around 30% of Brazil’s national cattle herd is concentrated within the Amazon biome (A Concertation for Amazon, 2020). The environmental impacts of this expansion are profound. Deforestation linked to livestock farming has positioned the Amazon as the largest emitter of greenhouse gases in Brazil. In 2022, deforestation accounted for 97% of Brazil’s total gross emissions, reaching 1.081 billion tons of CO2e. of these emissions from deforestation, 75% (837 million tons) originated from the Amazon (SEEG, 2023).

Figure 1: Annual Total Deforestation in the Amazon (1987–2023)

Source: Adapted from MapBiomas data (2025) – Available here.

Figure 2: Accumulated Deforestation in the Amazon (1986–2023)

Source: Adapted from MapBiomas, Version 9.0 (2025) – Available here.

The government of Brazil, historically incentives for agribusiness, with subsidies, tax breaks, and favourable land-use policies for large agricultural corporations create a growth-friendly environment that overlooks forest. While the concept of “green growth” is often promoted as a middle ground—suggesting that economic growth and environmental preservation can coexist—these policies reveal a fundamental contradiction. As Jacobs (2013) argues, the green growth model, while claiming to align economic expansion with environmental care, often serves as a rhetorical device to justify continued exploitation under the guise of “sustainability”​. Policies like REDD (Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation), promoted by the Brazilian government under the guise of sustainable development, aim to create financial incentives for forest conservation by monetizing carbon sequestration. However, these approaches often reduce forests merely to their carbon storage potential, overlooking broader ecological and social values while failing to address the root causes of deforestation (Humphreys, 2013). Humphreys argues that although REDD recognizes the public good nature of forests, it still prioritises economic metrics over the preservation of complex ecosystems. This lack of enforcement allows agribusinesses to operate with near impunity, thereby advancing growth in a way that prioritises economic gains over ecological limits.

This political economy is also marked by a disregard for the local and Indigenous populations affected by livestock expansion. Indigenous territories and protected lands are increasingly threatened by encroachment, as the push for cattle production reshapes land use across the Amazon. As Sullivan (2009) underscores, this “crisis capitalism” exploits not only the land but also the labour and livelihoods of local communities, leading to displacement and the disruption of cultural ties to the land​. The prioritisation of export-driven livestock production manifests in an inequitable distribution of benefits, where profits are funnelled to large agribusinesses while the environmental and social costs are borne by local communities. Moreover, this approach disregards the ecological value of the Amazon as a carbon sink, which is crucial for mitigating climate change globally.

Hickel and Kallis (2020) argue that the Degrowth framework underscores the incompatibility of continuous economic expansion with the ecological limits of our planet, advocating for a shift from growth-centred policies to ones prioritising ecological and social well-being. From this perspective, the Amazon’s role should transition from a production zone to a preserved ecosystem, where the forest’s value is derived not from its capacity for cattle grazing but from its ecological functions and cultural significance. Degrowth proponents call for reducing dependency on global markets that exploit natural resources, advocating instead for local economies that respect ecological boundaries and prioritise community well-being.

An analysis of livestock farming in the Amazon reveals that, although its expansion is promoted as an economic strategy, it has not yielded significant development gains for the region. Productivity remains low, characterised by suboptimal land use and limited employment and income generation. Data shows that less than one-third of the potential production capacity is utilised, making the current model unsustainable both environmentally and economically (Barreto, 2021).

Degraded pastures present a further challenge, the study notes that 59% of pastures in Brazil are degraded, affecting profitability. Restoring these areas requires investments that many rural landowners either cannot or choose not to make, given the abundance of land and economic incentives for deforestation. Rather than reinvesting in the land, owners often opt to clear new areas, perpetuating a cycle of degradation and expansion that fails to foster economic progress for local populations. This is reflected in low formalisation rates and lower-than-average earnings for sector workers—34% below regional averages, according to the Amazonia 2030 report.

Livestock expansion also does not significantly improve socioeconomic indicators, such as education, health, and sanitation, which remain precarious in the Amazon. The lack of investment in rural infrastructure, technical assistance, and education limits innovation and productivity improvements, leaving most Amazonian municipalities among the lowest-ranked in these indicators (Barreto, 2021). This reality reinforces that a development model based on pasture expansion fails to deliver the anticipated economic benefits.

The Amazonia 2030 report further highlights that deforestation is unnecessary for economic growth. From 2004 to 2012, as policies reduced deforestation by more than 80%, the Amazon’s agricultural GDP still increased by 45%. This shows that enhancing productivity in already deforested areas could support production without further expansion—a core Degrowth principle, which critiques growth pursued at the environment’s expense. Efforts should focus on improving efficiency and intensifying production within deforested areas, avoiding additional forest destruction.

To reduce deforestation in the Amazon, a multifaceted approach must prioritise sustainable land use, robust monitoring, and local community involvement, aligned with Degrowth principles that advocate for ecological and social prioritisation over relentless economic expansion. According to Barreto (2021), it is crucial to implement public policies that encourage the intensification of livestock practices, ensuring that current agricultural lands are used more efficiently to curb the need for further land clearing. Enforcing the Brazilian Forest Code (Law 12,651/2012), alongside securing land tenure, could help curb illegal expansion and deforestation— an issue due to unclear property rights across 30% of the Amazon. This law establishes protections for native vegetation through Permanent Preservation Areas (APPs) and Legal Reserves on rural lands, aiming to balance sustainable land use with environmental conservation while promoting land tenure regularisation and economic incentives for preservation.

It’s necessary developing comprehensive regional planning that involves traditional and Indigenous populations along with local governments is critical for sustainable management. This recommendation supports Degrowth’s call for decentralising economies and empowering local governance to uphold environmental protection. The promotion of sustainable land use, such as restoring degraded pastures and forest lands, provides a pathway to maintain ecological functions without expansion into untouched areas. Payments for Environmental Services (PES) to Indigenous communities and legal recognition of these territories can strengthen forest conservation, ensuring that these lands contribute to climate regulation and biodiversity conservation​. But, without immediate action, the continued exploitation of the Amazon Rainforest for short-term gains risks pushing this critical ecosystem beyond the point of recovery.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A Concertation for Amazon. (2020). Sectorial Overview of Livestock Farming in the Amazon. Available at: here (Accessed: 31st October, 2024).

Amazonia 2030. (2023). Zero Deforestation and Territorial Planning: Foundations for Sustainable Development in the Amazon. Available at: here Accessed: (Accessed: 30th October, 2024).

Barreto, P. (2021). Policies to develop livestock in the Amazon without deforestation. [e-book] Available at: here (Accessed: 30th October, 2024).

Barreto, P., et al. (2023). The Meat Production Chain Continues to Contribute to Deforestation in the Amazon [e-book]. Belém, PA: Amazon Institute of People and the Environment. Available at: here (Accessed: 30th October, 2024).

Brazil. Law No. 12,651, of May 25, 2012. Provides for the protection of native vegetation, Official Gazette of the Union, Brasília, DF, May 28, 2012. Available at: here (Accessed: 31th October, 2024).

Brazilian Beef Exporters Association (ABIEC). Beef Report 2024. Available at: here (Accessed: 31th October, 2024).

Clapp, J., & Dauvergne, P. (2005). Paths to a Green World: The Political Economy of the Global Environment. The MIT Press.

Hickel, J., & Kallis, G. (2020). Is Green Growth Possible? New Political Economy, 25(4), 469-486. doi: 10.1080/13563467.2019.1598964.

Humphreys, D. (2013). Forest Politics and the Global Climate Regime: Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation (REDD+). In The Handbook of Global Climate and Environment Policy.

Observatório do Clima. Analysis of Greenhouse Gas Emissions and Their Implications for Brazil’s Climate Goals. SEEG, 2023. Available at: here (Accessed: 31th October, 2024).

Sullivan, S. (2009). The Natural Capital Myth, and Other Tales of Conservation, Capital Accumulation, and Scarcity. Radical Anthropology.

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Finding careers that matter in an increasingly uncertain world

Written by Dr. Suda Perera

At the risk of sounding old, going to university isn’t what it used to be. When I applied to university I, like many of my peers, wasn’t fully sure what I would do with my degree. Going to university in the early 2000s was still regarded as a sort of “rite of passage” – the chance to meet new people, broaden your horizons, learn to think critically and work independently and generally grow into an adult away from home. I knew that university would give me plenty of employable skills, which could translate into a career, but there was no real need to articulate exactly what those skills were or what precise steps my career would follow. I (and my parents) trusted that over the three years of my undergraduate degree I would work it out. That is exactly what happened, and in the summer after I graduated, I started a job at Unicef.

Nowadays this relaxed attitude towards life after university is much rarer. As the undergraduate admission tutor for International Development, the question I am asked most frequently by students and parents alike is “what kind of job will I/my child get with this degree?” It’s an understandable question in the current economic climate: Going to university has come to be seen as an investment, and people want assurances that this investment will pay out with gainful employment. It’s certainly true that many of our graduates go on to have incredible and inspiring careers, but many of those careers did not follow a linear trajectory. 

Indeed my own career did not take a straightforward path: I left a cosy UN job because I wanted more hands on field experience, and moved to a far less stable (but much more rewarding) career working as a conflict analyst in Africa and the Middle East. When I decided to start a family, I realised I needed a job that required more stability and less travel and so I transitioned into becoming a university lecturer. The skills I acquired through my degree gave me the confidence and ability to move between industries and find jobs that suited my values and my lifestyle – both of which have changed over the years.

At Global Studies our students go on to do a wide range of jobs. Lots go to work in what we might think of as the traditional “development industry” – working for the United Nations, international NGOs, governments, donor agencies, and charities. However, many others take on less obvious, but nonetheless extremely rewarding roles. Some work in the private sector helping companies with ethical investing, corporate social responsibility and sustainability. Others go into media and communications, increasing knowledge and awareness of important global challenges. Others even start their own enterprises and non-profits. Some travel across the world to build international careers, while others stay here in Brighton or return to help their own communities. Whatever they do, we have a vibrant alumni network who are out there making positive differences in the world in multiple innovative and exciting ways.

Our former students often return to speak to our current students about their careers, and it’s often quite interesting that, although they certainly value the technical tools and skills training that they receive on the course, it’s the softer skills that have allowed them to navigate change and forge their careers. Being able to think independently and critically; to communicate complex ideas simply; to evaluate the past and think creatively about the future; to work in diverse teams; and present information in different ways.

These are skills which are often undersold in degrees like the ones we offer here, but which are invaluable in their daily lives. More importantly they help us to find careers that really matter to us and don’t leave us burnt out and disillusioned. As one of our former students who now works for Freedom from Torture told me recently, her career is fulfilling because she knows what her values are and her work has meaning. Her career makes a positive difference to other people’s lives and that’s what matters to her.

Thinking in terms of non-linear career paths rather than specific jobs is particularly useful in the current climate when no industry feels particularly safe amid rapidly changing technology and volatile jobs markets. The rise of AI is worsening the job market for software engineers who were so highly-sought after just a few years ago, and even doctors and lawyers are finding their jobs are at risk from new technologies.

I would argue that we need critical and creative thinkers in this changing world now more than ever. AI might be able to write the code, but only humans can ask what that code is doing. Is it making the world a better place or causing further environmental degradation and a looming energy crisis? Are economic models of growth actually enriching our societies or just increasing inequality? And what can we do to make the world a fairer, more sustainable and more peaceful place?

While I understand the desire to ask “what kind of job will I get from my degree?” I think the more important question we should be asking is “how will my degree enable me to have a meaningful and fulfilling life and career?”

At Sussex, we want to help students graduate ready for a rapidly changing world of work and confident to be agents of positive change, however they decide they want to apply that. If you are a prospective student, a parent or a teacher looking to offer careers advice, our first event will be an online Webinar on Global Careers in Sustainable Development and Social Justice on Tuesday 14th January 5pm-6pm GMT. To sign up for this event click here

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The Amazon is urban, too!

In Manaus, capital of the state of Amazonas

Written by Gabriel Cavalcante
MA Environment, Development and Policy
University of Sussex

The global view of the Amazon is often limited to its vast rainforest, seen as the ‘sanctuary of biodiversity’. This narrative ignores one fact: the Amazon is also urban. Data released by the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE) at the beginning of November shed light on this reality. According to the 2022 Demographic Census, the Legal Amazon is inhabited by 27.8 million people, representing 13.7 per cent of the Brazilian population.

To put this into context, the Legal Amazon covers all the states of the Northern Region – Acre, Amapá, Amazonas, Pará, Rondônia, Roraima and Tocantins – as well as parts of Maranhão and Mato Grosso. As the map below shows:

According to the latest Census, the North Region has 19 per cent of the Brazilian population living in slums, the highest proportion in the country. And its two largest capitals (population-wise) reflect this reality: Belém, which will host COP 30 next year, leads the way with 57.2 per cent of the population living in slums, followed by Manaus, with 55.8 per cent. These are the only Brazilian capitals where more than half the population lives in urban communities. The region is also home to 8 of the country’s 20 largest favelas – 7 of them in Manaus alone.

This is the portrait of a Brazil without an urbanisation plan, without universal water collection and sewage treatment and without protection of its biomes. The data above is the latest evidence that there is an urgent need for a territorial development plan for the north of the country, whose fragility exposes the population to crime, basic sanitation and urban mobility (the latter two non-existent) and the environment to degradation. Any effort to conserve the Amazon must necessarily consider its urban fabric. Neglecting this dimension is tantamount to jeopardising any cooperation for the conservation of the Amazon, which I’ll explain below.

The urbanisation of the Legal Amazon is a direct reflection of the historical strategies of territorial occupation and economic exploitation adopted in Brazil. This process can be divided into two historical milestones: 1) the Rubber Cycle and 2) the Age of Roads and ‘Greater Brazil’. Both were marked by policies that prioritised national integration and the exploitation of natural resources.

1st Historical Landmark: The Rubber Cycle

The rubber cycle was a historical period in Brazil, between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, marked by the intense exploitation of latex extracted from the rubber tree (Hevea brasiliensis), a tree native to the Amazon rainforest. This latex was transformed into rubber, a valuable product at the time and widely exported to meet the growing global demand of the Industrial Revolution, especially in the automobile and war sectors (Weinstein, B., 1983).

Cities like Manaus and Belém prospered economically, attracting immigrants, foreign investment and modern infrastructure. Manaus, for example, was the first Brazilian city to have public electricity and even imported materials from Europe to build the iconic Amazonas Theatre (Becker, 1990).

08/28/2013 – Manaus, Brazil: Sunset over the city of Manaus, showing the front view the Opera house of Manaus, the buildings, streets and the Rio Negro river in the background.

However, this urban expansion was elitist and deeply unequal. The wealth generated by rubber benefited the few, while the majority of the population lived in precarious conditions, without access to infrastructure or basic services. Furthermore, with the collapse of the rubber cycle at the beginning of the 20th century, these cities faced economic stagnation, creating a fragile urbanisation base dependent on external economic cycles (Chein, 2022).

2nd historical milestone: the era of motorways and ‘Brasil Grande’ (Big Brazil)

In the 1970s, during the military regime, the Amazon became the centrepiece of a national development project known as ‘Big Brazil’. This period was marked by major infrastructure projects, such as the opening of motorways (BR-364 and Transamazônica), tax incentives for agriculture and mining, and the construction of hydroelectric dams. These initiatives aimed to integrate the Amazon with the rest of the country and consolidate Brazilian sovereignty over the region (Fajardo et al., 2023).

Cities grew rapidly along these roads, often without proper planning. Small villages became improvised urban agglomerations to meet the demand of workers attracted by these projects. The occupation logic was predatory: the forest was seen as an obstacle to be overcome, and the urban settlements were conceived as support points for the exploitation of resources. As a result, cities like Altamira, Marabá and Porto Velho grew, but with insufficient infrastructure and high dependence on local economic activities, such as mining and cattle ranching (Chein, 2022).

A pickup truck drives near a of the Trans-Amazonian highway (BR230) under construction, near Ruropolis, Para state, Brazil, in the Amazon rainforest, on September 7, 2019. – The BR230 and BR163 are major transport routes in Brazil that have played a key role in the development and destruction of the world’s largest rainforest, now being ravaged by fires. (Photo by NELSON ALMEIDA / AFP) (Photo by NELSON ALMEIDA/AFP via Getty Images)

OK, but what were the results of these actions?

Both historical moments left a legacy of inequality and precariousness in Amazonian cities. Only half of the municipalities in the Legal Amazon have a Master Plan, the basic urban planning instrument, and many of these plans are out of date. Cities face problems such as lack of basic sanitation, limited access to public services and high socioeconomic vulnerability (Fajardo et al., 2023).

Furthermore, the integration of cities into the Amazon ecosystem has historically been neglected. By treating the forest as an obstacle to progress, urbanisation projects have ignored the importance of solutions adapted to the Amazonian context, such as valuing hydrography for transport and sustainable urban planning. The result is fragmented urbanisation, marked by deep inequalities and severe environmental challenges.

What’s next?

The structural problems faced by Amazonian cities require a profound change in public policies, with a focus on sustainable urban planning, environmental integration and social inclusion. Solutions that combine innovation and sensitivity to the local context are indispensable for overcoming decades of neglect and predatory exploitation. Below, I use three studies to highlight the five main points that must be prioritised in order to guarantee fair territorial development:

  1. Urban Planning

More than 50 per cent of the municipalities in the Legal Amazon still lack up-to-date Master Plans, which are essential for guiding urban growth in a balanced way (Fajardo et al., 2023). The implementation of plans that integrate housing, transport and environmental preservation is urgent to avoid the perpetuation of inequalities and environmental damage within Amazonian cities.

  1. Basic sanitation

The lack of basic sanitation is one of the biggest indicators of exclusion in the region. According to Cynamon et al. (2007), intersectoral policies that align infrastructure and health are crucial to promoting quality of life and reducing health and environmental risks.

  1. Amazon Hydrography as an Axis of Mobility and Planning

Chein (2022) argues that Amazonian rivers, essential for transport and local life, remain underutilised in urban planning. Incorporating them as axes of mobility and integration is a sustainable solution that respects the geographical dynamics of the region.

  1. Inclusive Housing

The concepts of habitability and ambience, as highlighted by Cynamon et al. (2007), are fundamental to rethinking housing development in the Amazon and in other contexts of vulnerability. These concepts transcend the idea of housing as a mere physical space, considering it as an element integrated with human well-being, public health and environmental balance.

  1. Social Participation

Fajardo et al. (2023) argue that the active inclusion of communities in urban planning is essential to ensure that the solutions implemented reflect the local and specific needs of the Amazonian population. By integrating local voices into the decision-making processes and construction of public policies for cities, it is possible to build a relationship of co-responsibility, where communities not only influence the guidelines, but also contribute to their implementation and monitoring.

Almost over…

On 24 November, COP-29 in Baku ended with results that fell short of expectations, especially with regard to financial commitments to tackle the climate emergency. This scenario imposes a huge challenge on Belém, which will host COP-30 in November next year, demanding significant efforts and Brazilian diplomacy to match the circumstances.

Holding the event in a capital city where 57.2 per cent of the population lives in slums highlights a glaring paradox. How can climate justice be debated in a city that symbolises the structural abandonment of the city, its population and the environment?

By imposing COP-30 in Belém, without a robust legacy plan for the city and its population, the Brazilian government risks turning the event into a spectacle disconnected from local reality. Without concrete actions to tackle inequalities and promote sustainable urban development, COP-30 risks being just another stage for empty promises, rather than catalysing real change.

As an Amazonian Brazilian, I’m sad to write this.

But we continue to resist. 

REFERENCES

  1. Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE). (2022). 2022 Demographic Census: Brazil had 16.4 million people living in favelas and urban communities. Available at: https://agenciadenoticias.ibge.gov.br/
  2. Cynamon, S. C., Bodstein, R., Kligerman, D. C., & Marcondes, W. B. (2007). Healthy housing and healthy environments as a strategy for health promotion. Ciência & Saúde Coletiva, 12(1), 191-198. Available at: https://www.scielo.br/j/csc/
  3. Fajardo, P. C., Santos, A. M., & Neves, M. C. (2023). Amazonian Cities: A Call to Action. Publication on urban planning and action for the Amazon Legal region.
  4. Chein, J. S. (2022). Cities in the Amazon Legal Region. Study on urbanization in the Amazon.
  5. Becker, B. K. (1990). Amazonia: Geopolitics at the Turn of the Third Millennium. Brazilian Journal of Geography.
  6. Weinstein, B. (1983). The Amazon Rubber Boom, 1850–1920. Stanford University Press.
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EXTRACTION OF FREEDOM: Sand mining in Shopian, Kashmir

Written by Oliwia Kaczmara

Spending a week in Indian-administered Kashmir is nowhere near enough time needed to fully appreciate the beauty of the breath-taking mountains and enchanting lakes. Having such little time there in August 2023, what became very apparent to me was the striking around-the-clock surveillance that hits you in the face straight upon arrival. The countless roadblocks and military checkpoints on the way into the Kashmir Valley, do not calm the fear from a 15-hour long drive on winding roads through the pitch-black night, where all you can see is hundred feet tall cliffs on your side, waiting for a deadly boulder to tumble down at you at any moment. The helplessness in the face of nature’s grandiosity, however, is nothing compared to the powerlessness of witnessing human-inflicted suffering that the Indian occupation has forced onto Kashmiris, ever since British India’s 1947 partition.

When the once princely state of Kashmir, which refers to the Kashmir Valley that is about 90-miles long, was divided up between India and Pakistan in 1949 after their 2-year war over the region, two-thirds of the territory landed in India’s hands, and one-third in Pakistan’s. The Line of Control (LoC)[1], drawn up by the UN, still remains in place today and it is the Indian two-thirds of the Kashmir region that this blog refers to.

The continuous assertion of land control over Kashmir by the Indian state has been historically characterised by a series of different mechanisms that have all aimed at compromising Kashmiri bodies’ ability of resisting the occupation, whether it be at a physical level, by excessive use of pellet guns (Zia, 2019), or at a psychological level by capitalising on the trauma and PTSD of Kashmiris (Duschinski et al., 2018). However, what I will discuss in this blog is what I consider the ‘new frontier’ of India’s land control – sand extraction – and ecocide as its consequence. Analysing this through the lens of ‘extractivism’ – “a regime based on the capture of value from nature in which production occurs without reproduction” (Ojeda et al., 2022: 2) – brings a new ecological dimension to understanding the conflict, alongside the physical and psychological. Here, the ‘killing’ of the natural environment merely becomes a tool for reproducing the vision of the occupation forces in the Himalayan foothill terrain. Viewing extractivism and ecocide as mechanisms of India’s settler colonialism, highlights the coming together of dreams of control and capitalism, which will continue to devalue Kashmiri lives and land, as long as the occupation lasts (Crook and Short, 2021).

Extractivism and Ecocide in Settler Colonialism

Sand mining is not a widely known form of extractivism such as oil or precious stones, yet it is the single most mined commodity and the most exploited substance after water (UNEP, 2022[2]). If, like me, you haven’t heard about sand mining before, then you may not know that sand is used in production of concrete, and so effectively in every one of our construction or manufacturing processes and is even used as an ingredient in our toothpastes. The amount of daily sand consumption equates to 20kg per person and currently “we are extracting sand more than three times faster than nature can replenish it” (Hall, 2020[3]).

Sand extraction in India has gained significant traction in the past decade due to the country’s construction boom, however it’s important to distinguish between ‘extraction’ and ‘extractivism’, as it is the latter that is destroying the riverbanks of Kashmir in irreversible ways. Junka-Aikio and Cortes-Severino differentiate the two by defining extractivism as “a paradigm of severe exploitation” (2017: 177). Extractivism as a product of capitalism prioritizes monetary gain and monopoly control, benefiting the resource exporters more than the resource rich countries (Ye et al., 2020). It is a relentless process that doesn’t respect natural rhythms of regenerations, leaving behind nothing except ‘negative externalities’ such as disadvantaged local populations and toxic pollution (Ye et al., 2020). It is a process of ecocide in the name of profit.

Environmental degradations caused by military presence is a big issue in conflict zones around the world, most recently for example, Palestinian soil becoming infertile and biohazardous thanks to countless Israeli bombardments. There have been many comparisons made between the situations of Kashmir and Palestine, most notably by Ather Zia (2020) who outlines the main similarities between the two states as following; both countries were under the control of the British Empire in 1947, they both have been portrayed as lawless Islamic terrorist states in the public eye, and the motif of ‘suffering’ is deeply ingrained within both national identities. In both cases, there is a lot to learn about ecocide not only as a byproduct of war, but also how it is used in extractivist regimes as a strategy of occupation.

As proposed by Jaber (2019), settler colonialist ideologies aim to erase traces of previous indigenous life which involves the people and their culture, but also their physical and ecological conditions. Jaber (2019) argues in their research that settler ‘spaces’ built upon Zionist ideologies are inherently ecocidal towards Palestinian land. This framework of thought can also be seen in the Hindutva and Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) homogenizing ideologies with regard to Kashmiri land. The creation of a settler exclusive space is simultaneous with ecocide because “the ability to dominate and manipulate an ecology for power benefits, contributes to the settler goal of native elimination” (Jaber, 2019: 142), which in the case of Kashmir is exemplified through the occupational forces deliberately disadvantaging locals from land access and bringing in outsider sand extraction businesses that fulfil the BJP’s goals of ‘development’ for the unified ‘Rising India’.

Excavators being used to dig sand from the banks of the Jhelum in Srinagar. Available at: https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/features/1-5-lakh-cubic-metres-of-silt-dredged-out-of-jhelum-299308 (Accessed on 11 May 2024)

The environmental impacts of sand mining

In India, the sand extracted in the peripheries doesn’t leave the nation’s borders and is mostly used for the development of the country’s core financial centres, like Delhi and Mumbai, with no trickle-down effect back to the original extraction locations. This is especially evident in the city of Shopian which is surrounded by two rivers – the Rimbiara and the Veshav – of which both have been exploited by heavy machinery since 2019 for their untouched, sandy riverbeds. The intense and endless digging that followed the abrogation of Article 370 which revoked the special autonomous status of Jammu and Kashmir, integrating it fully into India as two separate Union Territories; Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh, has had severe environmental and social implications that, in Kashmir, are as much to do with the conflict as the profit motive.

Sand mining has enormous and catastrophic effects on the ecosystem, affecting every living organism. From erosion of riverbanks, loss of biodiversity and a threat to livelihoods through disrupted water supplies, food production and fisheries. Most of all, the deep puncturing of the riverbeds from sand digging produces a very high risk of climate-related disasters because there is no longer enough sediment to protect the nearby areas against flooding. In the words of a Shopian local, Mukhtar Ahmed; “Tractor owners, who extracted sand with hands, did not damage the river as much in fifty years as machinery has done in six months[4].

As per local rules and agreements, extraction can only occur up to three to four feet in depth, however external mining businesses have illegally dug more than 50 feet, causing serious danger of floods for nearby residents. The deep punctures in the waterbed caused by the extraction from heavy machinery have made the damages irreversible and now it is impossible to bring back the original freshwater flow. Disturbing the riverbeds has also severely damaged water canals that supply fresh tap water. Locals have been reportedly receiving a Rs 1,000 water bill every month, despite the fact they have not had a supply of fresh water for months.

The Jammu & Kashmir district is also the primary source of apples in India, providing 80% of all apples in the country[5], and the apple crops destroyed by sand mining or the water-starved soil create financial losses for the local farmers that are disastrous for their livelihoods. A local apple orchard owner, Bashir Ahmad[6], notes that the freshwater quality is so bad that even the fungicide they spray on the trees has now become futile and the crops are beyond saving.

Where local farmers struggle, companies have stepped in to take advantage and many of the new landowners in Kashmir are corporate actors. As reported by Mukhtar Ahmed[7], these groups have been engaging in various acts of bribery in order to keep the locals away from the rivers. The firms, which earn remarkably more than locals, regularly bribe local administrations with Rs. 50,000 so that they receive mining priority. The local miners that do manage to still extract sand with their hands and tractors and earn around Rs. 1,000 daily, are often forced to pay a bribe ten times bigger to the local authorities to transport the manually dug out sand. Knowing how absurd the price difference becomes, many of the locals abandon their hard-earned sand as they simply cannot afford it. Around 10,000 manual sand mining labourers from 10 to 15 villages around Shopian have also been made unfairly redundant by the new big sand mining companies that, according to Abdul Ahmed Dar[8] – a local mining worker – use violence or bribing to kick local workers out of their sites.

The combination of dispossession and income loss, on top of already hard living conditions for all the rest of the residents – no fresh tap water, the possibility of your house being washed away and living in one of the most militarised areas of the world – are not conditions that should be imposed upon a person just because they were born one Himalayan valley away from peace. Not only has then the sand extractivism directly seized basic water supply but also indirectly removed people’s main sources of income and a stable life.

Kashmir in the public eye

The ecocide caused by the sand mining boom and the political factors behind the Indian occupation of Kashmir are not however isolated events, but are deeply intertwined. Since coming into power in 2014, the BJP party’s aims have been mainly pro-big business and winning their voters through propagating their idea of a ‘Rising India’, a reason for the major construction boom around that time. The country has been flooded with ‘development projects’ such as extremely long flyovers and expressways that relieve commuters from having to travel through slum neighbourhoods. As of today, India has 47 expressways that total 3,466 miles in length[9], which is exactly the distance between London and New York in a straight line. Of course, to build all those new development projects and all of these roads, sand is needed, and so more intense sand mining than ever is needed, making the abolition of Article 370 and within it, article 35(A) an ideal gateway into Kashmir’s riverbeds.

Modi’s justification for scrapping almost all of Article 370, was a pretext for integrating Kashmir with the rest of India and not giving it any special treatment so that it can resemble other Indian states. However, to Kashmiris, this decision was a step towards complete annexation of the territory (Zia, 2019: 778) which is precisely what followed. Article 35(A)[10], which is a section of Article 370, pointed out specific domicile laws regarding residency statuses in Kashmir. However, with its demolition and a new law in its place, Indian nationals living outside of Kashmir who meet specific requirements can be granted domicile status, giving them the right to apply for government employment and land in the area. This new law has led to up to 25,000[11] new people being granted residency certificates, explaining the sudden influx of external sand mining businesses.

The abrogation of Article 370 was thus a neoliberal economic policy that allowed for state territorialization to take place. Peluso and Lund (2011) explain ‘territorialization’ as various means of controlling territory and land for a bigger purpose of people and resource control. In short, simply “power relations written on land” (Peluso and Lund, 2011: 673). In the context of Kashmir, the government’s prioritization of access to the territory for mass sand extraction also served the bigger aim of developing a ‘united’ India.

To assert the claim over Kashmiri soil even further, the government chose to auction the first 200 mining areas online in February 2020. Ironically, 4G internet connection has been completely cut off in Kashmir since the abrogation of Article 370 and within the first year, any internet connection was also cut off from access 50 times in total (Zakaria and Baba, 2020). Therefore, Kashmiris became disadvantaged with regards to purchasing their own land whilst anyone outside of Kashmir had a strategic, better advantage. Assigning Kashmir’s territories to new owners through systems that disadvantaged Kashmiri locals from equal land access also simultaneously dispossessed them from the land that has sustained them for many centuries and has effectively turned them into ‘illegal’ ‘poachers’ in the eye of the state.

The framing of the Kashmiri people as dangerous and undeveloped citizens in the public eye, also legitimises sand mining’s exploitations. Prior to India’s security concern of the Kashmiri insurgency, Kashmir has been highly romanticized and portrayed as a place of escapism, and often a perfect location for the setting of many famous Bollywood movies[12]. This however changed from the 1990s onwards, when Kashmiris intensified their demands for independence and consequently their portrayal became ‘the other’, and potential terrorists.

As highlighted by Nitasha Kaul (2018), the exoticisation of the Kashmir territory also has a gendered aspect to it that drives the military goals of India’s possession of the territory. As Kaul explains, the feminisation of Kashmir is crucial for “the ‘strong’ hegemonically masculinist neoliberal state of India” (2018: 119), as it turns Kashmir’s ownership and governance into a vital component of Indian nationalism’s self-image.

These series of environmental, social, economic and political changes have all worked against Kashmiri people and in favour of big corporations and government control. Apple farmers and manual sand miners have lost their incomes, their families have lost a stable life, freshwater and internet access have become limited and the riverbeds irreversibly damaged, all in the name of ‘development’ fuelled by extractivism. These policies not only chip away at the viability of local lives, but also attempt to rob people of the hope of a peaceful future.

KL artwork by Yasir Malik, Available at: https://kashmirlife.net/sand-storm-issue-45-vol-11-223571/ (Accessed on 11 May 2024)

The paths to a solution

It is clear from the example of Kashmir that local sand extraction is not an issue itself, as people have been doing it harmlessly for decades. However, when enrolled in an extractivist regime, with the objective of capital accumulation and state control, irreversible damage is caused with no regard for the environment.

From a demand side, moving our societies and communities towards a circular economy for concrete, and creating a more rigorous recycling infrastructure would decrease the need for new sand extractivism. Studies have found that using recycled glass and plastic in concrete production instead of sand, would reduce CO2 emissions by 18% and we could save 820 million tonnes of sand per year (Hall, 2020[13]). To cut down on extractivism however, we must challenge the very logic of capitalism and colonialism.

As this blog has shown, in Kashmir, extractivism and ecocide are key mechanisms of settler colonialism that will continue to cheapen Kashmiri lives and land (Crook and Short, 2021). Therefore, extractivism in Kashmir will continue for as long as the occupation continues, and the root of the solution certainly needs to be about the liberation of Kashmiris at its forefront, and not just about better ways of mining.

Bibliography

Crook, M. and Short, D. (2021). Developmentalism and the genocide–ecocide nexus. Journal of Genocide Research23(2), pp.162-188.

Duschinski, H., Bhan, M., Zia, A. and Mahmood, C. (eds), (2018). Resisting occupation in Kashmir. University of Pennsylvania Press.

Falk, R.A. (1973). Environmental warfare and ecocide—facts, appraisal, and proposals. Bulletin of peace proposals, 4(1), pp.80-96.

Hall, M. (2020). 6 things you need to know about sand mining. Mining Technology. Available at: https://www.mining-technology.com/features/six-things-sand-mining/?cf-view [Accessed 11 May 2024].

Harvey, D. (2017). The ‘new’ imperialism: accumulation by dispossession. In Karl Marx (pp. 213-237). Routledge.

Higgins, P., Short, D. and South, N. (2013). Protecting the planet: a proposal for a law of ecocide. Crime, Law and Social Change, 59, pp.251-266.

Jaber, D.A. (2019). Settler colonialism and ecocide: case study of Al-Khader, Palestine. Settler Colonial Studies, 9(1), pp.135-154.

Junka-Aikio, L. and Cortes-Severino, C. (2017). Cultural studies of extraction. Cultural studies, 31(2-3), pp.175-184.

Kaul, N. (2017). Rise of the political right in India: Hindutva-development mix, Modi myth, and dualities. Journal of Labor and Society, 20(4), pp.523-548.

Mar, T.B. and Edmonds, P. (2010). Introduction: Making space in settler colonies. In Making settler colonial space: Perspectives on race, place and identity (pp. 1-24). London: Palgrave Macmillan UK.

Peluso, N.L. and Lund, C. (2011). New frontiers of land control: Introduction. Journal of peasant studies, 38(4), pp.667-681.

UNEP (2022). Sand and sustainability: 10 strategic recommendations to avert a crisis. GRID-Geneva,

United Nations Environment Programme, Geneva, Switzerland

Ye, J., Van Der Ploeg, J.D., Schneider, S. and Shanin, T. (2020). The incursions of extractivism: moving from dispersed places to global capitalism. The Journal of Peasant Studies, 47(1), pp.155-183.

Zakaria, A. and Baba, W. (2020). The false promise of normalcy and development in Kashmir. Al Jazeera. Available at: https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2020/8/5/the-false-promise-of-normalcy-and-development-in-kashmir [Accessed 11 May 2024].

Zia, A. (2019). Blinding Kashmiris: The right to maim and the Indian military occupation in Kashmir. Interventions, 21(6), pp.773-786.

Zia, A. (2020). “Their wounds are our wounds”: a case for affective solidarity between Palestine and Kashmir. Identities, 27(3), pp.357-375.


[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Line_of_Control

[2] https://www.unep.org/resources/report/sand-and-sustainability-10-strategic-recommendations-avert-crisis

[3] https://www.mining-technology.com/features/six-things-sand-mining/?cf-view

[4] https://youtu.be/FeFWBSu1PKM?si=JbXZggTAXvx4K6Jt&t=76

[5] https://kashmirobserver.net/2021/03/22/apple-economy-in-jammu-kashmir-changing-paradigm/

[6] https://youtu.be/FeFWBSu1PKM?si=A1Qm1MySTZVG8kWT&t=256

[7] https://youtu.be/FeFWBSu1PKM?si=PUOVx7PUsvJucW7-&t=99

[8] https://youtu.be/FeFWBSu1PKM?si=A680dYhDv0Uj0jLQ&t=124

[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expressways_of_India

[10] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Article_35A_of_the_Constitution_of_India

[11] https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/6/28/kashmir-muslims-fear-demographic-shift-as-thousands-get-residency

[12] https://thediplomat.com/2019/08/bollywood-and-indias-evolving-representation-of-kashmir/

[13] https://www.mining-technology.com/features/six-things-sand-mining/?cf-view

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Adam Lazar shares their dissertation fieldwork from last summer in Jordan

Written by Adam Lazar

Last summer, I was awarded the opportunity to travel to Jordan to research Queer Palestinians, a topic I cared deeply about as it related to my intersectional struggle for my identity and the identity of others in my community, whom I’d discovered at university.

So, in this manner, this fieldwork was the accumulation of 3 years of self-discovery and an intense but marvellous pursuit of unravelling the complex but necessary issue of queerness in a modern, de-colonial context.

It took many months in second year to prepare this difficult piece of research; I was plagued by anxiety around the genocide in Gaza, along with the general precarity of the unstable economic climate following the COVID-19 pandemic, along with increasingly violent and visible transphobia. This put me on edge, but I persevered.

I first applied for the dissertation module in late February, which I successfully enrolled into.

Then, after initially receiving mostly negative feedback due to the timing and theme of the research, I switched from applying to research in the West Bank to Jordan after consulting Melissa, my dissertation supervisor.

The next step was to apply for the Nicola Anderson bursary, after which I received an email inviting me to the lunch event in late May, at the height of the exam season. This is where I had the opportunity to sell my research proposal in a presentation that I had prepared.

At the end of the afternoon, the award winners were announced, and everyone, including me, received a chunk of the £2000 that year.

I then bought the flight tickets to Jordan and prepared the ethics application; quite the intense procedure given the many bureaucratic steps taken to fill it out, on top of having to reapply due to mistakes I had made repeatedly.

I then finally flew to Amman and landed in the beautiful city late at night, to the views of shimmering golden lights cast in the dark horizon.

I began my fieldwork there by visiting Books@Cafe. I spoke to the owner of the cafe, who directed me to his brother Madian, a well-known gay figure in Jordan, not before having to travel to the other Books@Cafe branch on the other side of town, though!

And that’s why fieldwork can be slow and tedious, especially when doing it alone.

Madian pointed me to others in the community to whom I reached out, but with limited success, every little helps! Eventually, I was led to a prominent queer activist in the UK, who I later interviewed.

Jordan is truly gorgeous and colourful. With the many pink flowers and random gardens you encounter with every step you take, you wonder how such a chaotic paradise can have so much homophobia.

Melissa also helped me connect with her colleague, whom I met up with in Amman in a spacious art centre in a hip neighbourhood called Jabal Lweibdeh. She connected me with one of her students, a gay man, whom I interviewed online!

Speaking of, one problem encountered was that all the queers I connected with in Amman were cis gay men, which led to a skewed account of the already subdued and difficult-to-reach subsect of people in Amman.

Regardless, I persevered, and on the last day of my stay, I met up with a friend of a friend in my hotel. I interviewed him and wrote down many of his points, including why all of my participants were cisgender men. He was an ally to the LGBT community, serving as the gateway into this secretive and sidelined group in this gorgeous city.

My fieldwork in Jordan was undoubtedly a rocky but successful endeavour to capture the essence of the queer community in Amman, a feat marked by intense networking, repetitive ethics applications and strong rapport in interviews.

Due to the themes raised by the research participants, I’ve learnt a lot about myself, Jordan, Palestine, and Israel, and intersectionality as a whole.

I’d love to do more fieldwork, especially ethnographically, due to the authenticity and high validity of the data produced. I look forward to piecing together all the clues and knowledge given to me into my dissertation in my final year at Sussex!

See you next time!

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