Water, Cultural Diversity, and Global Environmental Change

Truisms about the relation between water and culture abound: Water shapes culture and culture shapes water. Water is crucial for the flourishing of cultures, and viceversa. A cultural stewardship relation towards water is crucial for the health and viability of the world’s water resources. Simple truisms often emerge from immensely complicated and multifaceted human experiences that are in turn, influenced and shaped by conceptual, sociopolitical, and practical realities. In this complex constellation cultural diversity emerges as an indispensable concept, making visible the ways in which human-water relationships reflect natural processes, sociocultural understandings, relationships and norms, and, political and economic interests and institutions. Part I sets out to explore these relations with a sampling of cases and essays that suggest some of the key linkages between cultural diversity and water.

Water has seeped into unexpected domains. Water-related advertisements abound, and not only in the bottled water industry or in describing waterfront property. There are fashionable lines of clothing and cosmetic products with ‘water,’ ‘aqua,’ or ‘H

2

O’ in their names. In high-end shopping districts of the world’s capitals, one can find skin-care stores called

H

2

O

, built of sleek aquamarine-coloured glass. Water keeps re-entering the cultural imagination in new shapes and forms, subliminally exerting its aesthetic appeal.

The beliefs and practices of Hinduism are directly tied to many public uses of rivers across India and have been central to the reverence for rivers appearing in religious worship for centuries and nationalist movements and rallies over the last 50 years. There are also a multitude of public uses of rivers apart from widespread worship rituals: washing persons, clothes, and animals; general household consumption; fishing; transportation; and small-scale industry. These combined with small- and large-scale Hindu ritual bathing practices constitute public uses of rivers in India and are distinct from industrial or urban uses in that they are unpriced and sometimes essential to subsistence. Citizens are usually not prevented from using river waters, but the times when and places where they can attain access are sometimes regulated. With the development of private water and hydroelectric projects and the supporting state controls, one might expect that these public uses will be threatened or restricted over time.

During the first decade of the twenty-first century, water availability and distribution have become increasingly important for sustainable development and biodiversity conservation. Issues of water scarcity, quality, and accessibility affect the livelihood of many communities across the globe, as well the sustainability of water systems and associated biodiversity. Although not the only cause, human activities are a major factor in triggering problems of water scarcity and quality. Acknowledging the intrinsic relationship between water and human culture and behaviour has led to a re-evaluation of water resource management (Whiteley et al. 2008; Blatter and Ingram 2001) and the development of new approaches, such as integrated water resource management (IWRM) and adaptive management (Gunderson et al. 1995; Lee 1999; Pahl-Wostl2007a; Walters 1986). These new models try to integrate social and environmental interests and to facilitate participatory and inclusive practices (Feldman 2007), recognizing that water issues involve multiple equally valid ways of understanding. The underlying rationale is to provide effective solutions through collective actions, accommodating diverse perspectives on water management (Ingram and Lejano 2010; Lejano and Ingram 2009).

Water management, rights, and distribution practices manifest themselves ­simultaneously in water infrastructure and technology, normative arrangements, and organizational frameworks for operating and maintaining water control systems, each embedded in diverse political-economic and cultural-symbolic contexts. This situation implies that technology, organizations, culture, political economy, and ecology fundamentally influence and structure possibilities of water captured in contexts of cultural diversity and environmental change. Water rights analysis requires an interdisciplinary focus – one that allows for analyzing the politically contested nature of water resources and water rights as well as the interacting domains that constitute water control systems. I use the concept of ‘domains’ of water rights and control not in the sense of ‘arenas’ or social fields of interaction with territorial and political boundaries, but as (distinct but interlinked) thematic fields producing knowledge on water control. Irrigation water control studies in the Andean region, like investigations and narratives from other parts in the world, have shown the need for conceptualizations that dynamically interrelate the organizational, technical, and normative as interdependent ‘subsystems’ of water control that interact with cultural and political-economic forces and structures of their societal context.

In arid North Africa, control over water has long been and continues to be central to political and economic power for a wide variety of actors. The recent history of Tunisia, and particularly that of the oasis gardens of the Jerid region, demonstrates the social and environmental consequences of the transfer of control over water from local to colonial and then national elites. The oasis is the scene of conflicts over fresh water resources; local people are constantly adapting to new situations, learning to diversify their practices and discourses.

There are many diverse cultural engagements with water: different spiritual and secular beliefs and understandings; multiple views about how resources should be owned, used and managed; varied interactions with water in all its forms; and a wide spectrum of ideas about how to achieve sustainability and engage with environmental change.

This section delves further into the concept of biocultural diversity and the key sustaining role that water plays with examples from across the globe of the way human communities interact with water and of how these complex interactions maintain life in diverse environments. Collectively these contributions emphasise the role that local/traditional/Indigenous peoples and knowledges have in the sustainable management of water and they describe some of the challenges that such peoples face in having their knowledge recognised and acted upon by others.

Among the Tlingit, Haida, and neighbouring peoples of the northern Northwest Coast of North America, key watersheds not only define regional dwelling spaces but were owned and managed by lineages (matrilineal clans and house groups), which controlled access and enhanced their productivity in a variety of ways to ensure sustainability. These indigenous peoples also derived critical aspects of their identity and livelihoods from the unique features of these waterways, the differences of which were celebrated in a variety of contexts, including naming, visual art, dance, and rituals such as the potlatch ceremony. Among the Tlingit especially, the relationship between watersheds and marinescape explains critical biological and cultural diversity within the region. For example, sockeye or red salmon (

Oncorhynchus nerka

) streams were highly valued, as were fall dog (chum) salmon (

Oncorhynchus keta

) and coho (silver) salmon (

Oncorhynchus kisutch

) runs because of their temporal ‘stretching’ of the salmon harvest season. Similarly, marinescapes invisible from the surface, such as Pacific halibut (

Hippoglossus stenolepis

) banks might be defined by a set of relational characteristics between observable surface features, as in the name of one fishing bank, Geesh K’ishuwanyee (‘Just on the Edge of the Base of the Kelp’). Such unique and diverse water features, though often not dominant in the physiography, were celebrated as markers of regional identity and culture. The implications of this intracultural diversity are evaluated against current water policy and fisheries management that typically ignores indigenous hydrological units in favour of commercial zoning.

Maasai cattle herders of East Africa have adapted to and lived in water-scarce environments for centuries. Prior to the arrival of European ­settlers in Kenya in the early 1900s, the Maasai occupied large tracts of land in the expansive Rift Valley highlands and the savannah grasslands extending from Lake Rudolf (now Lake Turkana) to Lorochi Plateau in northern Tanzania. However, after more than a century of colonisation and loss of land, they currently live in the savannah grasslands of the Loita plains of southern Kenya and areas adjacent to the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro in northern Tanzania. Water scarcity in the region has been worsened by the ever-increasing human population coupled with environmental degradation.

Groundwater management is among the most important challenges facing the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region (World Bank 2000). It is the world’s most arid, with 1% of the global renewable fresh water available to its population. By the 1990s, eight countries in the Middle East (Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Jordan, Yemen, and Israel) had crossed the red line of ‘absolute water scarcity’ (Engelman and LeRoy 1993; Swain 1998). The population of nearly 300 million has doubled in the last three decades and is expected to double again by 2025 (Blanche 2001). This increase will mean a massive pressure on the already scarce water resources, yet newer technologies – especially groundwater pumping devices – cannot for long keep pace with rising water demand, as they are already operating at unsustainable rates. Instead, these technologies may further deplete currently viable aquifers and preclude their use even for lower-impact sustainable traditional ­irrigation systems, such as qanats (Lightfoot 1996).

The Panama Canal is far more than a simple channel between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. It is a network of hydroecological systems and engineering technologies that circulate billions of litres of fresh water through rivers, reservoirs, and locks. This network depends upon people and their labour as well as on water, for without the engineers, ship captains, and mechanics – to name just a few – ships and cargoes making up a substantial part of world trade would be unable to pass from sea to sea. Yet despite its obvious importance, the canal does not provide subsistence for everyone living near it. These lands and waters have historically supported diverse rural livelihoods, including farming, ranching, fishing, rubber tapping, and gold panning.

It is May 3, 2009. The mist is receding into the blue-green mountains of San Cristóbal de las Casas, ushered away by the morning sun, as the people of the

barrio

(neighbourhood) of Cuxtitali gather around a sacred water spring. Fresh water from ancient underground aquifers rushes past the flowers, candles, and crosses adorning the spring and, infused with symbolic and cultural meanings, flows into the metal pipes of modern urban infrastructure. Gravity compels the water through 8 km of semi-urban developments and into the homes of 1,100 Cuxtitali residents in a communally agreed rotation.

Water culture traditions reflect the lived experiences of local communities as well as their sense of place. Such traditions evolve over time through ongoing interactions with local environments and enable people to use and manage their water resources effectively. Environmental changes, however, can disrupt previously harmonious relations, requiring additional adaptations from local peoples. The Tibetan villages along the Mekong River, known in China as the Lancangjiang River, have a long history of managing their own water resources, but in recent decades they have experienced more frequent natural disasters such as flooding and mudslides. In order for water resources development and water governance modifications to be successful, they must be designed to meet these new challenges and must be built on foundations of local knowledge and local participation. Participatory development projects ­undertaken in the villages of Hongpo and Jiabi, Deqin County, Diqing Province, are examples of such successful collaborations.

Climatic warming poses a threat to much of the freshwater reserves trapped in glaciers worldwide. In the glacier-capped regions of the Himalayas, the shift in water resource availability could be dramatic. Known as the ‘abode of snow’, the Himalayas are home to thousands of glaciers that form the largest freshwater reserve after the polar ice caps. The runoff generated by these glaciers feeds seven of Asia’s greatest rivers, providing water and supporting the production of food for over 1.5 billion people. Waters from the Himalayan glaciers also feed a ‘hotspot’ region of biodiversity with some 10,000 plant species, an estimated 300 mammals, and almost 1,000 types of birds (Conservation International 2008). Disturbingly in an area of such importance, the Himalayan glaciers are receding. While the timeline for glacial melt here is a subject of debate and even some controversy, a wealth of scientific data indicates that we can expect extensive climatic transformations within generations (IPCC 2007; UNEP 2009). Global temperature increases, shifts in precipitation patterns, and increased deposits of dust and black carbon that reduce light deflection from glaciers will drive the anticipated changes (UNEP 2009). If the glaciers deteriorate, on the one hand, and monsoon trends shift, on the other, many Asian countries will likely face a diminished capacity for surface water recharge and a significant shift in freshwater availability. These changes will wreak havoc on agriculture, industries, and domestic livelihoods downstream. If glaciers continue to decline, a United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) report warns that the water and food security of developing nations in Asia will be ­threatened by the middle of the twenty-first century, signaling the ‘reversal of hard won development gains’ (Khoday 2007: 8).

How do human societies decide who gets water? Since all people (and, of course, all plants and animals) must have water to live, it seems cruel to calculate who should have it. Yet all social groups in past and present have had principles and rules – mostly unwritten – guiding access to, and use of, water. Underlying these principles, rules, and practices are culturally specific ideas about people’s relationships to one another and to the world that they inhabit.

Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast of the United States, including the city of New Orleans, on August 29, 2005. Although New Orleans is famous for its French Quarter, Mardi Gras celebrations, riverboats, music, and Creole culture and cuisine, few people are aware of its vibrant Vietnamese community. This paper describes how the Vietnamese community of New Orleans East, an area locally known as Versailles, was affected by Hurricane Katrina and why the task of rebuilding community in Versailles was distinct from rebuilding other areas of the city. In Vietnamese, the word for water,

nuoc

, also means ‘country’; this linguistic metaphor indicates the great symbolic importance of ‘water’ and ‘home’, especially for a group of displaced people. Environmental changes after the storm, particularly in access to clean water, affected key cultural components of the Versailles Vietnamese community.

In most of rural Bangladesh, the proliferation of tubewells that pump up groundwater has increased people’s access to drinking water over the last couple of decades. Most of the tubewells found in households, markets, schools, mosques, and other locations are privately owned, although the government has also installed some public tubewells. The government and development agencies heavily promoted these devices as ‘safe’ water sources compared to surface water (e.g., ponds and rivers), which is often chemically and pathogenically contaminated (and frequently led to high morbidity and mortality rates from water-borne diseases). However, the tubewell water that was deemed a public health success story only a few years ago is now poisoning millions of people, as naturally occurring, tasteless, odourless, colourless, carcinogenic arsenic is showing up in drinking water drawn from these wells.

Zimbabwe instituted a series of water reforms in the 1990s on the basis of the four Dublin Principles for Integrated Water Resource Management. A new parastatal institution, the Zimbabwe National Water Authority (ZINWA), was formed to co-manage Zimbabwe’s waters with more participatory institutions. The president of Zimbabwe remained the owner of the national waters; ZINWA became their manager. The longstanding distinction between primary or free water (water used by rural household use and in small-scale irrigation) and commercial water (water used for commercial purposes whose use was subject to fees) remained. In urban areas, ZINWA was to supply raw water that would then be purified and delivered for human use, and treated before being returned to rivers.

Water scarcity in popular terms suggests a state of immediate or impending crisis resulting from supply of water inadequate to meet the varied demands of humans and their environment. Scarcity is relative.

In this section we examine how large-scale hydrodevelopment involves synergistic processes and produce cumulative effects that result in the degradation of rivers and the complex human environmental systems they support. This critical focus is not an outright rejection of hydrodevelopment. On the contrary, contributing authors argue that sustainability is achievable when river basins are developed and managed in ways that sustain diverse human and ecological needs. This coupled bio/social systems approach forces consideration of complex concerns: WHOSE livelihoods are sustained? WHO defines sustainability? On WHAT terms? Towards WHAT ­prioritized goals?

Dams have been built for thousands of years, capturing water for crop production in the dry season, reducing the risks of flooding by controlling the water level in the rainy season, and storing water that can be transported to irrigate distant crops and sustain large urban populations. Dams can provide a barrier between the land and the sea. And dams allow the generation of power, amplifying the force of water to allow the generation of electrical energy.

Southern Africa is facing tremendous challenges when it comes to water. In 2009, half of the 15 states of the Southern African Development Community were considered to be facing serious water-related constraints, and some have been classified as water-scarce.

In the continent of Africa, the word

development

attracts a lot attention. Why? Because the African nations are in a hurry to develop, looking to be where other developed nations are now. On the road to development are a lot of choices – whether to engage in land reform, privatization, globalization, and regional cooperation, among others. However, one element that has been defined as crucial is energy infrastructure, often achieved through hydroelectric development. Generating reliable and large sources of power often provides the means to secure other goals.

The Mekong River is an iconic river, the twelfth longest in the world, stretching over 4,300 km and draining an area just under 800,000 km². From its headwaters in the plateaus of Tibet, the river travels through China, Myanmar, Thailand, Lao PDR, Cambodia, and the southeast coast of Vietnam, where it spills into the South China Sea. The Mekong is a flood pulse river affected strongly by seasonal flows; during the flood season a journey through its system takes approximately 3 weeks, whereas that same trip during the dry season could take 3 months (Hori 2000). The region surrounding the river is the breadbasket of Southeast Asia, providing rice and other agricultural products for the inhabitants and the rest of the world. Through agriculture, fisheries, and forestry, the Mekong sustains the livelihoods of millions of people and supports a wealth of biodiversity, including many endemic species of flora and fauna. To the economies of Southeast Asia the Mekong is a source of wealth and power that provides hydropower, transport, and irrigation. The region is also home to hundreds of ethnic groups, making it one of the most ­culturally diverse regions in the world.

Of the 50,000 large dams that exist in the world today, nearly half of them are in China. They provide flood protection, supply water for irrigation, and produce hydroelectric power in a nation with a seemingly insatiable appetite for energy. The southwest region, on the edge of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, is home to the major share of China’s vast hydropower potential. Currently, a 13-dam hydropower development plan is underway on the region’s Nu River, in a remote corner of Yunnan Province that is renowned for its cultural and biological diversity. The dam project has a total hydropower potential of 21,000 megawatts (MW), which is slightly more than the mammoth Three Gorges Dam. Should all 13 dams in the cascade be built, it is estimated that more than 50,000 people will be displaced.

The Elwha River system on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state (USA) is a storied land. For the Klallam (Coast Salish) people who claim it as their homeland, it is a place filled with narratives about culture, place, and the past. Even so, they have not been able to access many of their sacred sites for several generations because of the development of two hydroelectric dams on the Elwha River. In 1992 the U.S. Congress passed the Elwha River Ecosystem and Fisheries Restoration Act. This legislation brings together tribal, federal, and regional partners in an effort to restore the Elwha River through dam removal, which will allow the river’s salmon and steelhead populations to access pristine spawning ground in the upper reaches of the river, rehabilitate salmon habitat, and replenish beaches starved by the loss of the sediment now trapped behind the dams. For the last two decades, the Elwha Klallam and the U.S. National Park Service have been intergovernmental partners in the effort to implement this act.

This section brings together various contributions that, each in its own unique way, contribute to a larger mosaic – an assemblage of our collective endeavour to provide ideas for alternatives to water management and use in ways that sustain the diversity of cultures, ecosystems, and people. In so doing, this section elucidates that there are numerous ways towards a sustainable future. Ranging from traditional water harvesting in India to community-based water governance structures in the Americas, further to Indigenous involvement in water allocation assessments to environmental non-governmental organizations (NGO)s in Israel/Palestine, local people all around the world are forging solutions towards not only sustainable management of water, but also towards maintenance and celebration of diversity. Descriptions of efforts at the global level by international organizations, scientists, and development workers conclude the section. The contributions in this section together demonstrate that diverse social and natural environments, cultures, and people necessarily mean that there need to be diverse solutions as well.

Uttarakhand became the 27th state of the Indian Union in 2000. Carved out of Himalayan and adjoining Uttar Pradesh districts, the new state borders Tibet on the north, Nepal on the east, the Indian states of Uttar Pradesh to the south, Haryana on the west, and Himachal Pradesh on the northwest.

Intag, Ecuador, is a unique area for its biodiversity, international attempts to extract resources, and the local mobilization against mining. Its inhabitants, known as Inteños, live in scattered communities, hamlets, and farms, and have indigenous, African, and mixed – mestizo – origins. For the most part, Inteños depend upon the natural world for their livelihoods and have developed a unique culture that stresses values of mutual interdependence that complement collective and individual rights. The northwestern subtropical Andes Mountains are steep, rugged, and interspersed with abundant rivers and streams. The sound of flowing water is always near. When local interests clashed with attempts to extract mineral by powerful transnational mining companies, a culture of political ecology emerged. ‘We can’t sell our children’s future by letting a ­mining company come in and contaminate our beautiful river’, Carmen Proaño, community president of Río Verde, proclaimed on August 14, 2009.

The Murray-Darling rivers together form Australia’s largest river system, covering over one million km

2

(400,000 mile

2

). My people know the Murray as Dhungulla. These rivers have sustained the lives and cultures of Indigenous peoples for millennia. Today, through irrigated agriculture, it has become an important food ­production area for the nation. The paths that the Murray and Darling rivers take are now known as the Murray-Darling Basin.

Maori, the indigenous people of New Zealand, have longstanding ties to lakes, wetlands, streams, lagoons and coastal waters (Anderson 1998). In many parts of New Zealand, where water is a scarce resource (Lincoln Environmental 2002), waters have been dammed, stored and diverted to ensure the provision of water where and when it is needed. These developments, as well as directly impacting the lands and waters previously utilised by Maori, have prevented their exercise of customary and treaty rights (Waitangi Tribunal 1992, 1995, 1998). Nevertheless, securing recognition and provision for the rights of Maori may be problematic, as Poff et al. (2002) contend that achieving a more effective and sustainable balance between human and ecological demands for fresh water is one of the greatest challenges confronting societies today. Widening the range of social values to include the beliefs, practices and rights of indigenous communities could further complicate this balancing ­exercise.

The current state of impasse in the peace process between Israelis and Palestinians, with the Israelis’ refusal to stop building additional settlements and the factional split between Hamas and Fatah, has left most Palestinians disillusioned with their current leadership. Both the state of the environmental problems facing Israelis and Palestinians and the current political conditions do not hold out many droplets of hope. This situation bodes ill for any kind of settlement between the two peoples in the near future, let alone a long-term agreement on water sharing between Israel, its Arab neighbours, and the Palestinians.

Water is one of the most pressing development challenges of our time. It has been recognised as indispensable for sustainable development, for the preservation of the environment, and for the alleviation of poverty and hunger (UN-Water 2005). It is in fact water that cuts through and connects the eight Millennium Development Goals set by the United Nations (UN) (WWAP n.d. a). In recognition of water resources as ‘our lifeline…for sustainable development in the twenty-first century’ (Annan 2005), the years 2005–2015 have been designated by the UN as the International Decade for Action ‘Water for Life’. The primary goal of this decade is to promote efforts to fulfil international commitments made on water issues, most notably the UN Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) to halve the proportion of the population without sustainable access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation, as well as commitments made at the World Summit on Sustainable Development (WSSD) to stop the unsustainable exploitation of water resources and to develop integrated water resources management and water efficiency plans (UN-Water 2005).