Peaceful Societies

“A few chickens have been killed and the dogs chased some cattle, which were grazing in the village,” Conrad Glass reports, describing a typical day in his job as the policeman of Tristan da Cunha. Investigating a complaint relayed by the village vet, the officer wrote that he was able to identify the persons who owned the dogs that were chasing the cows, and he gave them a verbal warning.

Glass also suspected who owned the dogs that were chasing the chickens, but he couldn’t prove it. He expressed a bit of annoyance that, on a small island where everyone is related to everyone else, details about such mischief and minor problems are withheld from him for fear of upsetting family and community relationships. Glass does what he can: he posts a public notice about the incidents.

The rest of his day is busy, but equally mundane. Acting in one of his additional roles—as customs officer for the island community—he goes out on a small boat to board a visiting ship, where he retrieves a diplomatic mail pouch and the passports of visitors who will shortly be coming ashore.

After lunch, he drives around on patrol in his police car. He watches for reckless drivers, whom he has sometimes had to stop and warn about their driving. He then drops in at the village school to talk to the students about the need for careful driving, and the importance of having functioning lights on their bicycles. He then goes to the supermarket to order some front bicycle lights to give to the offending, and embarrassed, kids. He concludes his day at his office, writing reports and sending emails to English colleagues.

He’s finished work at 4:30, but his day is far from ended. Along with a colleague, he takes a youth group on an evening outing, a barbecue (called a “brai” on Tristan) out on the beach. He and his adult colleague organize games for the kids and start the barbecue. As it gets dark, he finishes the evening by telling them some ghost stories.

Readers who might be hoping to find true tales of crime-busting adventures will be disappointed by Rockhopper Copper, published first in 2005 and revised five years later for a 2011 second edition. The peaceful island community obviously has its stresses, but Glass frequently emphasizes the good-natured badinage that everyone uses to overcome their tensions. An article in The Guardian about Glass in January 2010 indicated that the only incident of violence in recent memory was a fight that occurred on a visiting fishing vessel—back in the 1970s. His job as policeman is more one of helping people resolve conflicts than of solving crimes.

His narrative covers many aspects of not only his own work, but also of other aspects of life on Tristan. One of the hats he wears is as conservation officer. He makes it clear that the Tristanians are proud of the avian biodiversity on their group of islands. Inaccessible Island, about 25 miles southwest of The Settlement on Tristan, and Gough Island, about 220 miles south, are critically important seabird sanctuaries. Glass describes his work counting rockhopper penguins (hence the book’s title) and their successes on their nests.

Many details about Tristanian social life come out in the course of his descriptions of activities that he participates in. During a day spent up on the mountain getting sheep into pens, he notes that the branding is necessary so people can distinguish their own property from that of the other islanders. He doesn’t wax on about private versus public property, but the glimpses of social conditions are useful, and quite interesting.

In the same vein, he participates, along with other island men, in a trip with numerous boats to Nightingale Island. The purpose of the trip is to check on the shacks that they maintain on the other island, to find wood, and to gather guano to fertilize their gardens. As a side benefit, the reader learns about the good-natured competition that exists among the various boat crews to see who can get to Nightingale first—a distance of 24 miles to the south. Tristan is the only inhabited island in the group, other than a weather station on Gough Island.

Glass treats us to some tales of search and rescue ventures—one of his duties is taking charge of those operations. He tells the stories in a matter of fact fashion, but the lack of any kind of support by aircraft means that anyone who has a serious problem on land or sea is dependent for help on the efforts and manpower of the islanders themselves. He also relates a number of charming folk tales.

The details in the book suggest a rich tapestry of life, even if the island is incredibly isolated. He describes a hurricane that swept over Tristan in May 2001. As the winds grew stronger and stronger and were starting to rip roofs off of buildings, Glass and others worked feverishly trying to save people’s property from the raging storm.

But the best part of the story is the way everyone pitched in to help family and neighbors protect their properties and make sure they were safe and secure during the stormy night. It is instructive to read about the spirit of cooperation that prevails in Tristan, but even better to read an eye-witness, participant account such as this, where the howl of the wind and the fright of the people is tempered by the strong community that helps protect them.

Glass, in the conclusion to his volume, is concerned about the future. The island, particularly its harbor, costs a lot to maintain. The catch of the crayfish and the work at the fish factory are essential to the economy of the island. The author is nervous about the continuing viability of the fishery.

He also worries about the introduction of alcohol and what it is doing to the isolated society. But he still takes pride in the safety, security, and freedom from fear on the island. No one locks their doors. “Children can play without fear of being molested,” he writes. It’s nice to know that peaceful spots like Tristan da Cunha still exist.

Glass, Conrad J. 2011. Rockhopper Copper: Life and Police Work on the World’s Most Remote Inhabited Island, Tristan da Cunha, 2nd edition. Clifton-upon-Teme, UK: Polperro Heritage Press

It may seem trite to say that no peaceful society is perfect, but developments last week relating to the aggressive Amish cult in Bergholz, Ohio, and its strange rampage of hair and beard cutting attacks last fall, certainly support such a truism.

Sam Mullet, Sr., the Bishop of the Bergholz Amish Church district and the alleged ring leader of the assaults that occurred in the bucolic Amish settlement of eastern Ohio, has been caught taking free legal assistance, despite the fact that he is, in fact, a rich man. In March, Mr. Mullet sold oil and gas leases on 800 acres he owns near Bergholz for more than two million dollars and the courts, which had been providing him with free public legal assistance, got provoked.

The story of the beard and hair cutting incidents captured international attention back in October 2011. Groups of Amish thugs, transported by hired vans, arrived at the homes of Amish people who appeared to be resisting the will of the bishop, the lay leader of the church district near Bergohlz. Numerous incidents were reported to the police by Amish people who would not normally bother civil authorities with their complaints. They prefer to handle disputes within their own community.

But these attacks scared them. Groups of Amish men would invade a home in the evening, grab the men they were targeting, hold them down, and forcibly cut their hair and beards with scissors and battery powered clippers. Minor injuries were reported in the scuffles, and some women also had their hair cut. Long hair and beards are essential to the self-images of many Amish people.

The huge Amish settlement in eastern Ohio was, to put it mildly, terrorized. The Federal Bureau of Investigation soon became involved because the incidents appeared to violate federal laws. The FBI ultimately charged Sam Mullet and 15 of his followers, 9 men and 6 women, with violations of the Hate Crimes Prevention Act, with destroying evidence, and with lying to agents. Mr. Mullet and his son Lester Mullet have been deemed dangers to the community and have not been released on bail.

Reports last week about the continuing saga in Ohio Amish country have covered the legal wrangling related to two issues. The government wants to keep Mullet and key members of his group behind bars until the upcoming trial. Mullet and his son, through their attorneys, are arguing that they should be free on bail. The other issue has been whether or not Mr. Mullet, Sr., should have to pay for his legal assistance.

At first, when the news came out that Sam Mullet had raised a small fortune, the government moved in court to revoke his free public defender, claiming that he had been less than honest about his financial status when he applied for the public assistance. Court documents show that Mullet had used the funds from the gas and oil lease to pay off outstanding debts and mortgages.

Federal district judge Dan Polster in Cleveland ruled on Monday last week that Mullet must, from now on, pay the standard rate of $250 per hour if he chooses to continue to use the assistance of the same attorney. Furthermore, the judge ruled that he has to pay $125 per hour for all the work the public defender has done so far for him.

Judge Polster also agreed with the FBI contention that Sam and Lester Mullet need to remain behind bars until the trial, scheduled for August 27. While they are accused of destroying evidence and lying to investigators, the primary reason for the denial of bail is the alleged danger that they pose to the community.

Sam Mullet’s public defender, Ed Bryan, has appealed the detention order, claiming that the bishop poses no threat to anyone, he is not at risk of fleeing, and he has strong ties within the Amish community. Lester Mullet’s attorney, Damon Billak, said that his client is the sole provider for his family, he is desperately needed for spring farm work, and his incarceration is posing difficulties for his family due to his wife’s pregnancy.

The prosecutors strongly disagree. They said that Lester Mullet eagerly participated in the attacks last fall and has indicated he would do so again. A transcript of a phone call he made from the jail indicated he and the other participants had laughed about cutting off only half a victim’s beard. “Given what we know about Lester Mullet’s role in these attacks and his willingness to obstruct the government’s investigation, there is simply no condition or set of conditions that will reasonably assure his attendance at court proceedings or the safety of a community that has been terrorized by this violence,” the prosecutors wrote.

They had similar words about his father, the bishop of the community. “The evidence has demonstrated that this defendant and his followers have not embraced the traditional Amish principles on nonviolence and forgiveness,” the prosecutors wrote. “The possibility of a violent encounter, this time with law enforcement, should not be readily dismissed.” Strong words about members of the Amish society, whose fanatical commitment to peacefulness is quite well known.

The 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Cincinnati agreed with the district judge. A three-judge panel of the Court of Appeals noted that, by his own admission to the media, Sam Mullet had prior knowledge about the intended assaults and “he could have stopped the attacks but he did not.” The judges noted that he had violated other court orders, threatened the life of the sheriff of Jefferson County, and controlled the members of his community so closely that no one would speak with the FBI without his explicit permission.

The three judges wrote that Mullet “further admitted that the attacks were in retaliation for other community members’ failure to adhere to his decisions, and he claimed he should be permitted to punish these people. And while Mullet may interpret the evidence differently, there is evidence that he orchestrated or participated in the offenses.”

A group dedicated to assisting devotees of Lord Ayyappa announced last week plans for a major pilgrim assistance center near Sabarimala, India, that will be combined with a facility for supporting tribal peoples, primarily the Malapandaram. The new facility will be built at Koonamkara, located on highway 67, the Perinad-Pampa main trunk road, just 22 air kilometers from the pilgrimage center.

Sabarimala and the temples in the surrounding communities host approximately 45 to 50 million devotees of the Hindu deity Lord Ayyappa every year, the largest pilgrimage in the world. The group, Sabarimala Ayyappa Seva Samajom (SASS), according to its website, is a volunteer charitable trust that works to support the welfare of pilgrims who journey to visit the temples dedicated to their deity.

Volunteers from the group provide drinking water, food, information, accommodations, and medical assistance at camping places, bus stands, railroad stations, and other places where pilgrims may need help. SASS already opened a facility for pilgrims at Koonamkara in 2009, but the new buildings will allow the group to greatly expand the scope of its services.

According to Kummanam Rajashekharan, the general secretary of SASS, the group has a number of ambitious goals for helping tribal children at Koonamkara. He said that nearly 350 families, 3,650 people, live in the nearby hamlets of Sayippinkudi, Chalakkayam, Siffan, Attathode, Perumbanmoozhi, Vimmaram and Gavi. Other sources have indicated that many of those tribal families are Malapandaram.

The SASS project will provide food for the children as well as schooling and healthcare. The group hopes to make the children aware of the social mainstream of modern India and improve their social status. Mr. Rajashekharan indicated to the press that the center, to be located on an 18 acre hill, will cost an estimated 30 crore rupees (US$5.7 million).

He said that helping improve the welfare of the tribal peoples “is the duty of every Ayyappa devotee and hence SASS has given top priority to the … project.” The proposed school facility would provide accommodations for the children and food, as well as an education.

The facility will focus at first on primary age children. The SASS plans for the curriculum are that the school should emphasize the local natural environment, including such subjects as science, hydrology, wildlife, forest protection, and conservation. Initially it will include a play school and only primary education, but SASS plans to expand it to include instruction for older people on subjects such as empowerment of women, childcare, and the indigenous cultural heritage of the local people.

The government of Montana took an anti-Hutterite law to the state Supreme court last Wednesday, arguing that its 2009 statute, which forces colony businesses to provide workers compensation, is necessary in order to be fair to non-Hutterite construction firms.

A state judge had already decided that the law forcing the Hutterites to pay for workers compensation insurance violates their free exercise of religion. The state is appealing that decision, reasoning that the law was intended to affect only commercial operations of the Hutterite colonies and not their religious practices.

The Big Sky Colony, located in the northwestern part of the state near Cut Bank, had filed a suit against the 2009 law. The colony claims that, through the Hutterite Medical Trust, it already provides insurance for its members. Big Sky attorney Ron Nelson refers to the law as “window dressing” which serves to ease political pressures on the legislature from the construction industry. Their real competitive edge, the colony argues, comes from the fact that they do not pay wages to their workers as the other construction firms must do.

The fact is, the colonies do not need to protect workers from lost wages if they have accidents. They don’t get wages. They don’t need to be protected from liability claims—their workers don’t file such claims. A Hutterite worker has never made a hostile claim against a colony business. The Hutterites also don’t vote and don’t serve in the military. They make their own clothes, produce their own food, and erect their buildings themselves. In short, they lead very different lifestyles from other citizens of Montana.

Mr. Nelson told the Supreme Court that “their core belief is that they have no property. All the property and labor they have, they contribute to the colony.” But they are easy to persecute, since their clothing makes them look different from other Montana people, he said. He added, “the colonies have suffered persecution and [they have] migrated and immigrated and moved for the past 500 years. They’re very protective of their religious beliefs, and they just can’t let that go. They have to assert their religious rights.”

Stuart Segrest, an assistant Attorney General, argued on behalf of the discriminatory law on Wednesday that the Hutterite claim for religious protection cannot apply when they engage in commercial activities. “They’re not allowed to become a law unto themselves,” he maintained.

Chuck Hunter, the state representative who introduced the controversial law in 2009, admitted that his act did, in fact, specifically target the Hutterite colonies. He said that the law would create “a fair playing field” for businesses that wanted to compete against Hutterite firms.

Another proponent of the law, Cary Hegreberg, the executive director of the Montana Contractors’ Association, echoed the same industry plaint. He said, “it’s just frustrating for a private business that has to pay various taxes and workers’ comp insurance to find themselves undercut competitively by an entity that is not subject to those same requirements.”

However, an attorney for the Big Sky Colony, Michael Talia, described the Hutterite way of life for the Supreme Court by saying, “as an act of faith and worship, each individual is committed to the group. They have no television, vacations, home improvement loans or college tuition to pay for.”

That attorney added, “members voluntarily provide all of their labor and support to the colony as an exercise of their religious faith and without expectation of or entitlement to pay, wages, salary or other compensation.”

The attorney general’s lawyers responded that the Hutterite way of life should not exempt them from the workers’ compensation law and regulations. Those requirements would not infringe on the internal affairs or religious beliefs of the colonies, they maintained. Referring to the lower court decision, Attorney Segrest argued, “taken to its logical conclusion, this decision would empower (the Hutterites) to avoid any burdensome regulation, because that regulation would necessarily affect some aspect of their religious lifestyle.”

In November 2010, Canadian news media covered similar complaints by businesses in their country. The Canadian companies argued that they, too, could not compete against the Hutterite colony firms, which did not have to pay for wages or insurance. On the U.S. side of the border, there was a lot of negative public opinion about the Hutterites in the Cut Bank area in 2005 when a large ranch was sold to them, though some people in that community expressed positive opinions about their neighbors, in part because they recognized that the colonies contributed a lot to the local economy.

Janzen and Stanton (2010), in their thorough survey of the Hutterites in North America, describe colony relationships with outsiders in Canadian and American communities as either staying the same or even deteriorating in recent years. Neighbors of the colonies continue to hold false and malicious beliefs about them, the authors write. A 1998 report by the Montana Rights Network indicates that, in that state, in the words of the report, “resentment toward Hutterites appears to be growing [p.281].”

Janzen and Stanton argue that the antagonisms are based not only on false stereotypes but also on jealousies about the economic successes of the colonies. Opponents in Montana incorrectly claim that the Hutterites don’t pay taxes and collect welfare, when in fact they pay corporate taxes and generate a net income for their communities and the state. They rarely collect government benefits, don’t take food stamps, or participate in other assistance programs to which they are entitled , the two scholars write.

According to some entries posted last week on a blog by the skipper of the yacht “Jennifer,” which has been sailing through the Outer Islands of Yap State in Micronesia, the culture of Ifaluk Island appears to be resisting changes and modernization.

But Lars Hässler, the captain of the yacht and author of the blog entries, clearly does not romanticize the Ifaluk people. He wrote that after he and the crew piloted the 50 foot yacht into the lagoon, he visited the island chief, who wanted US$20 for a permit to anchor in the lagoon, which he was OK with. He resisted paying the additional US$20 per person aboard and made it clear that he would leave instead. The chief agreed to his terms, and accepted the anchorage fee only.

The Swedish yacht was visiting various Outer Islands, having just come from Lamotrek atoll. The skipper enjoyed the traditional culture of that island as well as of Ifaluk, the next atoll to the west of Lamotrek. He was told that the high chiefs on Yap, the largest island in that part of the Pacific and the headquarters of Yap State, had dictated that the Ifaluk and Lamotrek islanders should retain their old lifestyles, such as the men continuing to wear their traditional loincloths and the women their lava lavas.

Hässler said that Ifaluk is somewhat larger than the other Outer Islands they had just visited, with a population of about 500 people. He wrote that the place was spotlessly clean, while the paths were wide and neatly lined with palm trees. Fiberglass boats and outboard engines were not permitted, in an effort to retain traditional ways of fishing. He added that the island did have two fiberglass boats, but they were reserved for emergencies. The only visible signs of the modern world were a few solar panels.

One of the mornings, the author and a couple of his crew members noticed 15 canoes gathered together, so they set off in their dingy to investigate. They found the men of the island preparing to put up a new roof on a canoe house. Ten men threw pandamus or banana leaves up to about 25 men gathered on the roof of the building. The men managed to finish the new roof by lunch time and soon left in their canoes for their own homes.

Another day, the government supply ship arrived outside the lagoon for its semi-annual visit. It was too large to come in, so the islanders ferried in supplies with small boats. Hässler and the crew of his vessel all agreed that Ifaluk was the nicest island they had visited so far on their journey around the Pacific.

The author of the blog, a Swede, has written a number of books about sailing. He was born in Stockholm, obtained law degrees and worked in various legal and corporate positions, then mostly gave it all up for a life of sailing. He takes paying crew members to help defray the costs of his cruises. His website has links to pages about his various trips stretching back more than ten years.

Captain Hässler decided to continue on to Woleai, the next atoll to the west of Ifaluk in the Outer Islands chain. They didn’t like it. They found it to be not as nice, not as clean as Ifaluk. It is interesting to read their impressions of Woleai, since one of the major Ifaluk myths focuses on an epic fight with the people of that island, whom, according to the story, they all slaughtered in a battle. Of course over the centuries, they have evolved friendly relations with their nearest neighbors.

In any case, the Jennifer soon left Woleai to head for Yap itself, a much larger, mountainous island with many of the amenities of modern civilization—restaurants, Internet access, fresh food. Besides, Hässler writes, “everyone was by now a bit ‘outatolled’.”

A leader of the Mangyan protests against a destructive nickel mining project in the mountains of Mindoro Island in the Philippines was awarded a Goldman Prize last week at a ceremony in San Francisco. For years, the Mangyan societies, which include the highly peaceful Buid (also spelled Buhid) on southern Mindoro Island, protested the dangers from a mine located along the mountainous spine of the island.

The prize winner, Fr. Edwin Gariguez, 49, is a Catholic priest who served as a pastor at the Mangyan Mission church on the island. He then became the executive secretary of the National Secretariat for Social Action, Justice and Peace. Gariguez was awarded the prize for his firm commitment to supporting the Mangyan societies in their efforts to protect the health of their environment and the sanctity of their traditions. “Mangyan” is a term used for the seven (some sources say eight) different indigenous peoples living on Mindoro.

Affectionately known as “Father Edu,” Gariguez helped found the Alliance Against Mining (ALAMIN), a coalition of the Mangyan peoples plus some administrators and other Mindoro residents who feared that the mining would destroy their water supplies. The proposed open-pit nickel mine, to be operated by the Norwegian mining company Intex, was being developed at the headwaters of four major river systems on Mindoro.

The mine used a potentially hazardous process known as acid leaching on the nickel ore. In addition to concerns about pollution of their water supplies, the Buid, and the other indigenous groups, were upset at the desecration of their burial grounds during the preparatory phases of the work. Despite the extensive opposition on Mindoro, the national government supported the development of the mine, since mining represents a lucrative source of revenue.

Father Gariguez was undeterred by harassment from mining company officials and military people—and by the murder of another anti-mining leader. As the grassroots movement against the mine grew stronger, local governments began supporting the anti-mine protesters. Father Gariguez traveled to Norway to address Intex shareholders and the Norwegian parliament. He also put pressure on his own national government to get officials to abide by the environmental laws that were already in place. He then filed a complaint with the OECD.

In 2009, he helped lead a lengthy hunger strike, which prompted the national Department of Environment and Natural Resources to finally investigate the environmental abuses of the mine and to suspend its operating permit. The setback for the company prompted it to attempt to sell the entire project in 2010. Father Edu has promised he will maintain pressure on the national government to make sure that any mining that is done will not harm water resources and will respect the wishes of the Mangyan peoples.

News reports in the Philippines showed pride and pleasure in his having been awarded the prize. A bishop in his church, Broderick Pabillo from Manila, said, “we are very happy that he got that significant international prize.” Pabillo went on to say that the award recognizes “what we are doing in Mindoro, protecting the indigenous people and protecting the environment especially against large-scale mining.”

Another person who is an activist along with Gariguez, Judy Pasimio, gave credit to the Catholic Church for its leadership in “ending the Mangyan’s struggle with Intex. This struggle is not just about protecting the environment, but is really about the survival of the Mangyans, which Father Edu and the church fought for,” she said. She added that he epitomizes the role of the activist, barefoot priest.

She said that he ignored advice to take rest breaks, and he insisted on taking public transportation to radio stations to do interviews during the hunger strike. She said the other leaders of the hunger strike urged him to rest since he was weak from the fasting, but he continued his commitments. He would not leave tasks for other people to do. She concluded that “seeing the Mangyans seemed to boost his energy.”

Father Gariguez, in his acceptance message, said he was giving the money, a prize of US$150,000, to the Mangyan people. “It’s not only money that counts for them,” he told the press, “but also the spirit ties with the land, which mining companies do not understand.”

Gariguez and the five other prize winners traveled from San Francisco to Washington, D.C., where they participated in comparable ceremonies a few days later at the Smithsonian Institution’s Museum of Natural History.

The Wall Street Journal’s “India Real Time” blog is publishing a series of six investigative reports on starvation in India, one of which, last week, described the terrible mass deaths of October 2008 in a Birhor village. That tragic episode prompted a flood of attention for the formerly obscure tribal group, and the news media in India have been covering the Birhor very attentively ever since.

Last November, Ashwin Parulkar and a colleague from the Centre for Equity Studies, a New Delhi think tank, visited the small Birhor village of Hindiyankalan, in the Chatra district of Jharkhand state, to interview the residents and find out what had really happened three and a half years ago. Is there starvation in the village? What are government agencies doing to alleviate their problems? His report, the third in the “Starving in India” series, seeks to address those questions.

The tragedy broke in early October that year. Eight Birhor had died of mysterious causes the same night, apparently from food poisoning. The name of the village was spelled “Hindiyakala” in the news stories of 2008. Some sources blamed the Birhor themselves for eating poisonous roots, while others blamed government agencies for their failures to provide proper rations to starving people. The report last week finally clears up the circumstances of the tragedy.

The reporters spoke with a 65-year old widow, Sahria Devi, about what had happened. She explained that the story goes back long before the events of three and a half years ago. Despite meeting the legal requirements for extreme poverty under Indian law, the villagers had been unable to get ration cards that would have allowed them to have access to supplemental foods.

An independent investigation found that only four cards had been issued to the villagers since 2000. Furthermore, the grain shop dealer who was supposed to be distributing the food grains was selling them instead and falsifying records. “My family was starving,” Ms. Devi explained to the visitors, a crowd of curious villagers gathering around.

While they used to subsist on fabricating products such as ropes to sell from materials gathered in the nearby forests, that source of income is not nearly enough now. Ms. Devi, and other villagers, carve bamboo sticks into strips, out of which they make rice winnowing baskets called “soops.” She and her family could make two or three per day, which they could sell, in 2008, for seven rupees (US$0.14) each, not enough to feed the family of eight people. The villagers also collect and sell honey and other forest products as often as they can.

The family was entitled by law to a ration card but as often as Ms. Devi pleaded, she couldn’t get one. Other government food supplement programs were also not working. A Child Development Services center was supposed to be overseeing and guaranteeing that children under age six, adolescent girls, and pregnant women in the village would receive adequate nutrition. The village lacked such a center. A service providing supplemental foods to children—supposedly a mid-day meal daily—only operated when the school was open, two or three days per month.

Ms. Devi and the rest of her village survived as best they could on a bit of rice each day plus some chakora, a spinach-like vegetable, and the roots of a plant known as gethi. (A 2006 article on rural poverty in Jharkhand translated “gethi” as simply meaning “root,” and not the name of a particular plant.[1]) The problem is that gethi is poisonous. It needs to be soaked in water for 24 to 48 hours to leach out the toxins and become safe to eat. The villagers, that night on October 1, 2008, were too hungry to wait. About 20 people ate the raw roots and became desperately ill, suffering from severe diarrhea and vomiting.

The others tried to get help but couldn’t. The nearest hospital is only 13 km away, but they had no way to get the sick people there. Ms. Devi lost two of her grandchildren and a daughter in law. The news report last week describes the controversy that quickly developed about the case—the charges and counter charges, with different agencies blaming one another, and of course the Birhor themselves. The story last week settled the matter. The Birhor did die of poisoning, which was caused by their starvation. Both sides to the argument in 2008 were correct.

The update to the events of October 2008 is not as positive as one might hope. Officials claim to be concerned about starvation in the poor Birhor communities, but they seem to be unable, or unwilling, to do much about it. The reporters spoke with Ravinder Lal, a doctor at the nearest medical facility to the village. “There’s a lot of malnutrition here,” he told them, “but we’re from the medical side. We can only treat health problems.”

Dr. Lal was a member of a medical team that had visited Hindiyankalan and concluded that food poisoning had caused the deaths. One of the visitors told Dr. Lal that he too had visited the village shortly after the tragedy and he felt that severe malnutrition was the cause of the deaths. The reporters told the doctor that the people appeared to be starving, which would explain why they would eat poisonous roots.

They asked Dr. Lal if he would agree that the Birhor were receiving inadequate rations which might have caused them to poison themselves by eating the roots. “Perhaps,” Dr. Lal replied. “I am not willing to say. That is [the people’s] problem.” At least, he did not say it was the root of their problem.

The authors write that the tribal communities in India have less food than the other poor people in their country. While 45 percent of children under 5 years of age nationwide are under weight, the figure is 54 percent for tribal children. So-called “Primitive Tribal Groups,” such as the Birhor, are worse off than that.

As they sat chatting with a group of villagers in Hindiyankalan, the reporters reflected on what appears to be continuing confusion in government agencies as to what to do, and, even more troubling for them, “a general reluctance to acknowledge starvation deaths and address their primary causes.”

[1] Bhatia, Bela and Jean Drèze. 2006. “Employment Guarantee in Jharkhand: Ground Realities.” Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 41, No. 29 (Jul. 22-28, 2006): 3198-3202

Persecuting the peaceful Amish has not been good for the image of Kentucky, but fortunately, last Wednesday, the state finally resolved the contentious safety triangle issue. Governor Steve Beshear signed a bill that allows the Schwartzentruber Amish to use strips of reflective white or silver tape on their buggies rather than the florescent safety triangles that so deeply offend them.

The Governor said, “I think we were able to fashion a solution that helped folks with their religious issues but at the same time still maintained the standard of safety that we have to have on our highways.”

While most Amish groups have no problems with displaying the orange safety triangles on the backs of their buggies, the ultra-conservative Schwartzentrubers do. They feel that the triangles represent the holy trinity, which their beliefs forbid them from displaying. Furthermore, they are religiously opposed to any show of loud colors, and the point of the florescent orange triangles is to be highly visible, especially at night.

Several Schwartzentrubers had been sentenced to brief jail terms for their refusals to mount the safety triangles on the backs of their buggies. They claimed it was a religious issue for them.

As of mid-February, the focus of the news was on a compromise working its way through the legislature. The Kentucky senate passed a bill authorizing the Amish to use strips of reflective tape instead of the triangles. It awaited action in the state house of representatives.

Before the house could take action, a court case challenging the existing law finally made it to the state Supreme court, which held a hearing in the middle of March. As with the debates in the legislature, the court heard arguments about religious freedom versus the safety of motorists and Amish on the public roads. Some Amish decry the notion that the law requires them to entrust their safety to a human symbol—the triangle—rather than to God.

On Tuesday March 27th, the House and Senate reconciled their different versions when the House passed the Senate bill, sending it to the governor. His signature hopefully brings an end to the issue—at least in that state.

The residents of San José Progreso, once a peaceful Zapotec community, are divided into opposing factions, some supportive of a local gold and silver mine and the jobs it provides, while others oppose it because it threatens their water supply. The tense situation in the small community in Mexico’s Oaxaca State has fostered increasing violence.

Last month, on March 15th, an activist who has protested against the Trinidad/Cuzcatlán mine that threatens the water supply was gunned down. Two months earlier, on January 23rd, another Zapotec activist was murdered during a community protest. The company, Fortuna Silver Mines, Inc., a Canadian firm based in Vancouver that owns the mine, denies any involvement in the violence.

Bernardo Vásquez Sánchez, murdered the evening of March 15th, was killed in a car in which two other persons were seriously injured. Bernardo was clearly the person the hit men were after. He was a Zapotec leader who dared to oppose the mining project. Last week a feature article exposed the details of the violence and its background.

The January killing took place while the Zapotec activists were protesting the construction of a water pipeline to the mine. Many local people believe that the water being diverted to the mine will deplete their own supply. An argument broke out between the activists and the construction crew building the pipeline.

Police arrived and the mayor of the town, Alberto Mauro Sánchez, ordered them to open fire on the crowd. Men who were photographed in the act of doing the shooting were arrested but subsequently released, and the mayor has not been charged. Bernardo Méndez, one of the men targeted in the crowd, subsequently died of his gunshot wounds, and Abigail Vászuez was seriously injured in the fusillade. Two months later, her brother was gunned down in his car.

Sr. Vásquez had called a press conference on January 23rd to denounce the shooting violence and the Canadian mining operation. As a leader of a local group called the Coalition of People United in the Ocotlán Valley (COPOVU), he claimed that Fortuna Silver, as well as its local subsidiary, were responsible for the crime. The group called for the cancellation of the mining operations. Less than two months later, he was rubbed out.

Needless to say, the company denied having any involvement with the violence. It also denied that the new pipeline would divert any water supplies away from the community, which is located in an arid region of southern Mexico. The CEO of the company, Jorge Ganoza, referred to the allegations of the activists as “misinformation,” and ascribed the violence to a long standing local political power struggle. Several officials in Oaxaca State agreed with his explanations.

The activists say that the history of violence around the mine supports their claims. A 2009 protest against the opening of the mine was broken when 700 police officers brutally broke through a blockade with attack dogs and automatic weapons. In 2010, a couple officials were killed and others brutally beaten during protests.

One activist in San José said that the atmosphere in town was very tense, with two killings in two months. Most of the town residents were opposed to the mine at first, but now the ongoing corporate violence and repression has had its effect. Fewer people are willing to oppose the mine any longer. Bribes to prominent local people have also helped the efforts of the mining company. The anonymous activist maintains that about half the community is still opposed to the mining. There are good reasons for the opposition, most based on the fact that the area is arid. Everyone is aware that water is a scare, precious resource.

Another valley in Oaxaca has had a similar, but even more disastrous, experience with a different gold and silver mine. Due to the work of Canadian company Continuum Resources, operating at Calpulálpam, that town’s water supply was completely ruined. Local residents near that mine reported that 13 streams were destroyed and aquifers were disrupted by the mining. Springs in the area were so polluted that, ultimately, a federal government office, the Mexican Federal Environmental Protection Agency, intervened and shut it down. The folks in San José—at least half of them—are aware of this precedent.

The day after Sr. Vásquez was murdered, a coordinating group, the Oaxacan Collective in Defense of Territories, denounced his murder and the ongoing violence and intimidation. The slain activist had repeatedly warned appropriate federal agencies of the likelihood of violence due to the hostile feelings in the community toward the Canadian mine. COPOVU, the organization that he helped lead, repeatedly complained to officials that the mining company was funding armed gangs to intimidate protesters, with the support of the town’s mayor.

The stakes in the struggle are high. Fortuna Silver has invested $55 million in the mine, which began operations last September. Projections indicate that it will produce 1.7 million ounces of silver this year and 15,000 ounces of gold. The company appears determined to carry on. The website of Fortuna Silver Mines, San José, focuses on the growth opportunities of the mine and the technical details of the mineral resources.

The Zapotec activists in San José seem to be just as determined, in spite of the atmosphere of intimidation and fear that has built up, to continue their opposition. According to Jonathan Treat, the author of last week’s analysis of the situation, everyone was tense during the funeral of Sr. Vászuez on March 23rd. “Indignation and defiance hung in the air. Just before his coffin was lowered into the ground, a friend of Vásquez said to the crowd: “They can cut a flower, but they cannot stop the Spring.’”

One of the seven people killed in the mass shooting at Oikos University in Oakland, California, early last week was a young man from Sikkim named Tshering Rinzing Bhutia. While the Bhutia and the Lepcha people have separate origins in Sikkim, they have similar customs and are often united in trying to preserve their traditions in the face of modernizing forces in the small north Indian state. The alleged gunman, One Goh, stole Bhutia’s car and shot him in the process, along with six other people.

Bhutia, 38, was studying nursing at the college and he had a night job as a janitor at the San Francisco airport. A friend of his, Sandy Close, said Bhutia “was highly intelligent.” She told the press the murdered man had also worked at restaurants in the area. The two had become friends when they were both waiters, and Close had invited Bhutia for meals at times, though they mostly kept up their friendship through emails.

Close said that she “will remember him, … not because he was the victim of this crime, but because he was a gentle person.” She said that her friend lived pretty much to himself, since there is no Sikkim community in the city. Bhutia lived in North Beach, a San Francisco neighborhood.

His landlord in North Beach, Prem Singh, liked him. He said he had always been a good tenant, and was “a very nice guy.” He said they had just had a long conversation a few days before the shooting. Bhutia’s Facebook account showed that he had friends around the world, but he was mostly a solitary person.

Punam Devi, the manager of the North Beach residential hotel where he had lived earlier, said he was a “very hard worker.” Bhutia was a Buddhist, but it was not clear if he belonged to any particular temple. Ms. Devi said he spent time sitting and talking with her in her office from time to time.

The Bhutia/Lepcha community in Sikkim was distressed to learn the news. A meeting of the Sikkim Bhutia Lepcha Apex Committee (SIBLAC) , an organization formed to help protect the rights of the two indigenous communities in the small state, held a scheduled meeting on Wednesday last week to commemorate the birthday of the late king of Sikkim, but they curtailed the meeting because of the sad news from California.

The committee decided to write a letter to President Obama asking his help in expediting the shipment of Mr. Bhutia’s body back to Sikkim. SIBLAC asked for the president’s assistance in order to “enable the bereaved family members [to] perform necessary Buddhist rites, ceremonies and prayers for his ultimate enlightenment.” There is no word yet as to whether his body has been shipped back to Sikkim.

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