The context for Marx's examination of the agrarian question was the
general crisis of soil fertility in the period from 1830 to 1870. The
depletion of soil nutrients was being felt everywhere, as capitalist
agriculture broke down the old organic interaction that took place on
small, family farms. When a peasant plowed a field with ox or
horse-drawn plows, used an outhouse, accumulated compost piles, etc.,
the soil's nutrients were replenished naturally. As capitalist
agriculture turned the peasant into an urban proletariat, segregated
livestock production from grain and food production, the organic cycle
was broken and the soil gradually lost its fertility.
The need to artificially replenish the soil's nutrients led to
scientific research into the problem. Justin Von Liebeg was one of the
most important thinkers of the day and he was the first to posit the
problem in terms of the separation between the city and the countryside.
While the research proceeded, the various capitalist powers sought to
gain control over new sources of fertilizers. This explains "guano
imperialism," which I referred to in my post on Peru the other day.
England brought Peru into its neocolonial orbit because it was the most
naturally endowed supplier of bird dung in the world. In 1847, 227
thousand tons of guano were imported from Peru into England. This
commodity was as important to England's economy as silver and gold were
in previous centuries.
full: http://www.columbia.edu/~lnp3/mydocs/ecology/foster_liebeg.htm
----
NY Times, May 30, 2008
Peru Guards Its Guano as Demand Soars Again
By SIMON ROMERO
ISLA DE ASIA, Peru — The worldwide boom in commodities has come to this:
Even guano, the bird dung that was the focus of an imperialist scramble
on the high seas in the 19th century, is in strong demand once again.
Surging prices for synthetic fertilizers and organic foods are shifting
attention to guano, an organic fertilizer once found in abundance on
this island and more than 20 others off the coast of Peru, where an
exceptionally dry climate preserves the droppings of seabirds like the
guanay cormorant and the Peruvian booby.
On the same islands where thousands of convicts, army deserters and
Chinese indentured servants died collecting guano a century and a half
ago, teams of Quechua-speaking laborers from the highlands now scrape
the dung off the hard soil and place it on barges destined for the mainland.
“We are recovering some of the last guano remaining in Peru,” said
Victor Ropón, 66, a supervisor from Ancash Province whose leathery skin
reflects his years working on the guano islands since he was 17.
“There might be 10 years of supplies left, or perhaps 20, and then it
will be completely exhausted,” said Mr. Ropón, referring to fears that
the seabird population could be poised to fall sharply in the years
ahead. It is a minor miracle that any guano at all is available here
today, reflecting a century-old effort hailed by biologists as a rare
example of sustainable exploitation of a resource once so coveted that
the United States authorized its citizens to take possession of islands
or keys where guano was found.
As a debate rages over whether global oil output has peaked, a parable
may exist in the story of guano, with its seafaring treachery, the
development of synthetic alternatives in Europe and a desperate effort
here to prevent the deposits from being depleted.
“Before there was oil, there was guano, so of course we fought wars over
it,” said Pablo Arriola, director of Proabonos, the state company that
controls guano production, referring to conflicts like the Chincha
Islands War, in which Peru prevented Spain from reasserting control over
the guano islands. “Guano is a highly desirous enterprise.”
Guano is also an undeniably strenuous enterprise from the perspective of
the laborers who migrate to the islands to collect the dung each year.
In scenes reminiscent of open-pit gold mines on the mainland, the
laborers rise before dawn to scrape the hardened guano with shovels and
small pickaxes.
Many go barefoot, their feet and lower legs coated with guano by the
time their shifts end in the early afternoon. Some wear handkerchiefs
over their mouths and nostrils to avoid breathing in guano dust, which,
fortunately, is almost odorless aside from a faint smell of ammonia.
“This is not an easy life, but it’s the one I chose,” said Bruno Sulca,
62, who oversees the loading of guano bags on barges at Isla Guañape,
off the coast of northern Peru. Mr. Sulca and other workers earn about
$600 a month, more than three times what manual laborers earn in the
impoverished highlands.
Peru’s guano trade quixotically soldiers on after almost being wiped out
by overexploitation. The dung will probably never be the focus of a boom
as intense as the one in the 19th century, when deposits were 150 feet
high, with export proceeds accounting for most of the national budget.
The guano on most islands, including Isla de Asia, south of the capital,
Lima, now reaches less than a foot or so. But the guano that remains
here is coveted when viewed in the context of the frenzy in Peru and
abroad around synthetic fertilizers like urea, which has doubled in
price to more than $600 a ton in the last year.
Guano in Peru sells for about $250 a ton while fetching $500 a ton when
exported to France, Israel and the United States. While guano is less
efficient than urea at releasing nitrates into the soil, its status as
an organic fertilizer has increased demand, transforming it into a niche
fertilizer sought around the world.
“Guano has the advantage of being chemical-free,” said Enrique
Balmaceda, who cultivates organic mangoes in Piura, a province in
northern Peru. “The problem is, there isn’t enough of it to meet demand
with new crops like organic bananas competing for what’s available.”
That explains why Peru is so vigilant about preserving the remaining
guano, an effort dating back a century to the creation of the Guano
Administration Company, when Peru nationalized the islands, some of
which were British-controlled, to stave off the industry’s extinction.
Since then, Peru’s government has restricted guano collection to about
two islands a year, enabling the droppings to accumulate. Workers smooth
slopes and build walls that retain the guano. Scientists even introduced
lizards to hunt down ticks that infested the seabirds.
The guano administrators station armed guards at each of the islands to
ward off threats to birds, which produce 12,000 to 15,000 tons of guano
a year.
“The fishermen instigate the most mischief here,” said Rómulo Ybarra,
40, one of two guards stationed at Isla de Asia, which otherwise has no
regular inhabitants. (The island has a tiny cabin called Casa del Chino,
a reference to the Asian ancestry of former President Alberto K.
Fujimori, who used to come here to unwind in solitude.)
“When the fishermen approach the island, their engines scare away the
guanay,” Mr. Ybarra said, referring to the prized guanay cormorant. “And
further out at sea, the fishing boats pursue the anchoveta, something we
cannot control.”
The anchoveta, a six-inch fish in the anchovy family, is the main food
of the seabirds who leave their droppings on these rainless islands. The
biggest fear of Peru’s guano collectors is that commercial fishing
fleets will deplete their stocks, which are increasingly wanted as fish
meal for poultry and other animals as demand for meat products rises in
Asia.
While the bird population has climbed to 4 million from 3.2 million in
the past two years, that figure still pales in comparison with the 60
million birds at the height of the first guano rush. Faced with a
dwindling anchoveta population, officials at Proabonos are considering
halting exports of guano to ensure its supply to the domestic market.
Uriel de la Torre, a biologist who specializes in conserving the guanay
cormorant and other seabirds, said that unless some measure emerged to
prevent overfishing, both the anchovetas and the seabirds here could die
off by 2030.
“It would be an inglorious conclusion to something that has survived
wars and man’s other follies,” Mr. de la Torre said. “But that is the
scenario we are facing: the end of guano.”
Andrea Zarate contributed reporting from Lima, Peru.
_______________________________________________
pen-l mailing list
[email protected]
https://lists.csuchico.edu/mailman/listinfo/pen-l
