An interesting article discussing what Cerrejon thinks and plans for addressing the allegation of their human right violations. Is it enough to just inform their personnel about Human Rights Law? or to impose ways to deal with situations that are incommensurable, such as the use of territory in indigenous ancestral lands?
La Guajira only has a handful of formal petrol stations. Instead, drivers in this remote corner of north-east Colombia fill up at temporary kerbside stops, where a vendor stands with a plastic drum of contraband fuel and a shorn-off hosepipe.
Over the years, the state has earned a reputation as Colombia's Wild West. As well as pimpineros (petrol smugglers), its porous border with nearby Venezuela is a popular route for narcotic gangs and leftwing guerrilla groups. The region also bears the scars of Colombia's decades-long civil during which millions were displaced and an estimated 200,000 killed.
In short, not the ideal place to set up a multi-million dollar business – or not a legitimate one, at any rate.
Yet that's precisely what Exxon opted to do. Why? Because the sub-soil in La Guajira runs rich in coal. Very rich. With a 69,000-hectare concession in its pocket, the US energy company entered a joint venture in 1983 with state-owned mining company Carbocol to extract La Guajira's mineral wealth. They called the company Cerrejón, a reference to a nearby mountain held sacred by the indigenous Wayúu people, who comprise 44% of La Guajira's population.
Between 1999 and 2002, a consortium of multinational mining companies comprising Glencore (now owned by Xstrata), Anglo American and BHP Billiton took over ownership of the concession. It was an astute buy. As South America's largest open-pit coal mine, Cerrejón boasts a production capacity of 32m tonnes per year – most of which (about 60%) goes to fuel Europe's coal-fired power stations.
Along with the company's mineral reserves, the mine's new owners were landed with an ugly track record too. The company stood accused of environmental destruction, political collusion and human rights abuses, especially against the Wayúu.
Cerrejón's new owners aren't immune to fresh accusations either, as a highly critical report by Danish NGO DanWatch makes plain. Expansion of the mine led to the forced expropriation of Tabaco in 2001, for example. The move led to violent clashes and a subsequent court order to rehouse the settlement's Afro-Caribbean population. Long-running arguments between the company and the local municipality mean that a new settlement still awaits construction.
Erasing the human stain
So is it possible to operate in a poorly governed, militarised corner of the world without becoming embroiled in human rights abuses?
The evidence from Colombia's rapidly expanding mining sector seems doubtful. A recent report by ABColombia, a UK-based NGO coalition including CAFOD and Christian Aid, cites more than 50 anti-mining protests in Colombia in 2011 alone.
"Some 80% of human rights and international humanitarian law violations in the last 10 years have been carried out in mining and energy regions in Colombia," the report maintains.
Cerrejón is doing its best to build a counter case. To prove its point, the owner of one of the world's largest open-pit coal mines points to the work of its human rights office, which it established back in 2005.
"When Cerrejón first started, there were no international standards, no norms for business with respect to human rights", says Carlos Franco, director of the firm's social standards' division. "Our basic position was always to obey the law… At a time when there were 3,000 kidnappings per year, to respect the law was no small thing."
He adds: "Our new owners came in with the goal of making this [human rights management] in a more systematic, organised way", noting Cerrejón's adoption of the Social and Environmental Standards of the International Finance Corporation (IFC) in 2007 and the United Nation's Guiding Principles on Human Rights and Business in 2011.
First and foremost comes the right to life. Under international norms, companies are obliged to ensure that their security personnel act with due restraint. Abuses carried out in Colombia by private security staff contracted by the UK oil companyBP during the 1990s are well documented, for instance.
In 2005, Cerrejón put its name to the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights in an attempt to mitigate such abuses. As a signatory to the non-mandatory accord, the company commits to regularly train its 1,200 or so security staff – the vast majority of whom are contractors – in human rights norms. Contractors are also required to provide evidence of background checks on their staff.
Franco admits that the company's leverage on the police and army is more restricted. As a national strategic asset (Cerrejón's tax and royalty bill between 2001 and 2011 amounted to more than $3.9bn), the company has about 800 state security forces patrolling its operations. "That said, the Colombian army is also trying to improve its image," he states. All have participated in human rights training as well.
Addressing human rights
One major human rights issue surrounds forced eviction. Prior to 2001, five communities were removed by Cerrejón from their traditional territories. All received financial compensation, but none were resettled. As a result, the social fabric of these rural communities was broken and many individuals drifted to precarious lives in nearby cities.
"Colombia has no laws covering the involuntary resettlement of people by [industrial] projects… so what we do is to comply with what it says in principle 5 of the IFC's standards", says Franco, referring to "compensation packages" that include a new house, long-term education support, financial remediation and other benefits.
The strategy is having mixed results. Dolis Carrillo, the 43-year-old leader of the resettled Patilla community, insists her new life in a purpose-built residential facility near the town of Barrancas marks a substantial improvement.
"Unlike before, here we have electricity and running water, and a school with five classrooms. And the health centre is just five minutes away… I couldn't condemn my own children to the reality we used to live," she argues.
Similar deals have been struck with the neighbouring villages of Chancleta and Las Casitas, although not all the residents were satisfied with the terms and some have moved elsewhere. In the case of Tamaquito, a community with indigenous roots, the resettlement agreement takes account of their traditional housing styles and need for communal grazing areas.
Not all are happy, however. Eight families in Roche have refused to move, accusing the company of failing to listen to its demands and of outright aggression. "I've received threatening phone calls and they have set out to rubbish my name in public", Yoe Arregoces, spokesperson for the remaining families, tells the Guardian.
The case touches on the contentious point of free, prior and informed consent. Colombian law only requires companies to consult with affected communities, not to obtain their consent. The only exception is indigenous groups (Tamaquito is not officially recognised as indigenous by the Colombian authorities).
Cerrejón's recent failed attempt to expand its operations gives a degree of credibility to the process. As part of an ambitious project to nearly double its production capacity, Cerrejón was looking to divert 26km of the Ranchería River. A dozen of the 115 affected communities raised objections, several of which were indigenous and from which full consent was therefore required. Cerrejón has shelved the project for now – a decision partly sparked by falling international coal prices.
A third controversial area is the right to health and wellbeing. Communities around the mine complain of air and water pollution caused by coal dust. Another frequent grievance is the death of goats and other animals, which wander on to the company's 150km railway and are killed by its trains.
In line with the UN's protect, respect and remedy formula, Cerrejón introduced a complaints office in 2010. Run by a seven-person team that includes indigenous intermediaries, the division logs community grievances and pays compensation (usually in-kind) where appropriate. In its first two years, the office registered 312 complaints, half of which related to incidents involving indigenous people.
Opening up, letting go
Cerrejón's approach has not freed it from community conflict or controversy (it experienced a month-long strike by workers earlier this year). Unable to agree terms with the remaining families in Roche, for example, it has now filed for their mandatory eviction. Due process or not, such actions look very much like bullyboy tactics.
The only real defence against such accusations are transparency and external monitoring: two concepts that ring alarm bells in most mining companies.
Cerrejón has been gingerly experimenting with opening its doors to outside scrutiny. Back in 2007, for instance, it invited a panel of NGO and academic experts to examine its human rights performance. The resultant report identified 24 issues on which the company needed to improve. To date, Cerrejón has met 19 of these.
Given the power imbalances inherent in corporate-community engagement, the requirement here for third-party oversight is particularly acute. Cerrejón requests that relevant government monitors accompany the formal consultation process. Since 2009, it has also invited the Colombia-based rights group Indepaz to document its resettlement negotiations.
"It's hard to tell how sincere the company's social responsibility people are sometimes", says Aviva Chomsky, co-ordinator of Latin American Studies at Salem State University and an independent facilitator in the combative negotiations with the remaining Roche families. "But they operate within their own set of beliefs and processes."
Therein lies the issue. Culturally, the world of multinational mining is a million miles away from that of rural subsistence living. When these two worlds collide – as they currently do in La Guajira – a clash of beliefs is almost inevitable. It's in that context that the risk of human rights' violations escalates. Without robust processes to promote fair play and hold companies to account, then the Wild West will always win out.
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