Amalia Leguizamón: A mass consent for socio-ecological injustice (ep349)
“Why is it important to focus on regular people, people in the in-between, people who bear some cost but also reap some profit? Because it gives us an insight into most people’s lives. As long as we don’t understand how we become acquiescent, not much will change.”
In this episode, we welcome Amalia Leguizamón, Associate Professor of Sociology and core faculty at the Stone Center for Latin American Studies at Tulane University. Her research examines the political economy of the environment in Latin America, particularly Argentina’s swift agrarian transformation based on the early adoption and intensive implementation of genetically modified soybeans. She is also the author of Seeds of Power: Environmental Injustice and Genetically Modified Soybeans in Argentina (Duke University Press, 2020).
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Transcript:
Note: *Our episodes are minimally edited. Please view them as open invitations to dive deeper into each resource and topic explored. This transcript has been edited for clarity.
Amalia Leguizamón (on the similarities between Amalia and Kregg Hetherington''s books on the soybean industry in Argentina and Paraguay): They are about the same topic in a way, about soybean production and the socioecological consequences. But in these two different, neighboring countries, Argentina and Paraguay, we share similar themes. We have a different approach in the sense that, first of all, it's a matter of policy. I am a sociologist. So, reading Kregg's book—and I 100 percent recommend everyone to read his ethnographic [work]—we have a different approach, because I take a more macro-political economy view, with some ethnographic vignettes.
Something that shocked me in the comparison of the books is that Kregg begins his book saying, "Soy kills." He begins by establishing that soybean production, particularly genetically modified soy, is harmful. And people are okay with that—I mean, they're not okay with that... They agree on the idea that soybeans kill. They harm people because of the violence against campesinos, against small peasants, and fumigation [which affects] the health and soil and water environment.
In Argentina, that is not the case. There is no agreement around that much—on the contrary (and this is what I explore in my book), there is strong support for soybean production, for the technology of genetically modified crops, for the technological package. The entire package of growing genetically modified soy and of the development project is based on agro-exporting. So actually, the negative socio-environmental consequences in Argentina, which in many ways (not all) are similar to Paraguay.
There isn't a consensus around harm. There are a lot of silences, people are worried, concerned, [or] thinking particularly [about] the health impacts that come from agrochemicals culture, and yet they don't know how to navigate that because at the same time, soybean exports bring so much money into the country and they also bring modernity. It isn't just that people are interested purely for economic purposes or interests. There is a strong cultural attachment in this agrarian transformation based on technological innovation that producers support a lot.
It was interesting to have this conversation with Kregg and to read this book back to back to see how we are exploring different, or in a way, similar power dynamics that we saw in different ways.
Kamea Chayne: Yeah, and it's definitely interesting to note the different lenses that you've used. So with you, it's more the macro-level, with your background in sociology, and then with Kregg, it's more of the anthropological lens. I'm sure that brings unique perspectives to both of your works on different countries’ histories and this expands on what you just talked about.
But Argentina is the third-largest grower and exporter of GMO crops in the world after the U.S. and Brazil. To further help us understand the relative lack of a resistance movement within Argentina, there is the historical context of how GMO crops have been framed as being good for the ecosystem and even supportive of people who are struggling with economic poverty.
I would love you to expand more on the promises and dominant narratives that have become really pervasive within Argentinean communities that have been influential in shaping public perception of the role that GMO crops can play in the name of advancement and addressing poverty and improving people's quality of life.
Amalia Leguizamón: The interesting thing about how this narrative is being employed in Argentina is that it is a broader narrative that is being used at a global level to support or to promote technological innovation, agrarian technologies, and GMOs in particular.
It is part of a broader narrative brought forward by the biotech industry, but also many think tanks and sustainable development scholars in general: this idea that cutting-edge agrarian technologies such as GMO crops are tools for sustainable development and the idea that we are able to address global hunger, poverty, and environmental degradation by adopting these new technologies that promise to grow more food using fewer resources.
For example, addressing the problem of soil exhaustion or drought with GMO crops that are drought-resistant, or the idea that we can continue to grow our food and do everything that we do in the same way, [while only] changing the method or the technology. Eventually, the goal—and this is the main frame in which these technologies advance—is [continuing to grow] our economy, [continuing to have] constant economic growth while minimizing ecological impacts.
This is the promise of sustainable development in general, that we can continue to live the same and consume the same but do it in a way that is more environmentally friendly. At the core of this technological transition and of GMOs in particular, the idea is that what we need, mostly, is knowledge. The knowledge to innovate and to transition to green technology. So this is the dominant narrative of GMOs in general.
This is a discourse that has been adapted to climate change, but it comes from the time of the Green Revolution.
It's this idea that we can grow more food for more people, to address hunger and poverty all at the same time, through technological innovation, without changing anything in the social dynamics.
Kamea Chayne: A lot of times, as you've noted, when we're looking at any sort of a crisis or tension, we tend to focus on this binary of those who are “for” and those who are “against,” those who are at the top and those who are at the bottom, and we tend to not shine a light on those who are in between.
I know this was a specific focus that you were curious to highlight, looking at those who were at once facing some of the detrimental impacts of the GMO crops in Argentina, yet at the same time, who were also reaping some of the benefits.
As you share, and this is a quote, “I want to emphasize the often neglected, yet fundamental, legitimation and discursive processes that underpin injustice. Because, as Steven Lukes argues, the ‘most invasive and insidious form of power is exercised when subjects come to comply with their situation of domination and thus remain acquiescent in the face of injustice.’”
I wonder why you think it is that we tend to overlook these people who are in between? And if you could elaborate more on this idea of oppressive power being legitimized by those who are in many ways harmed by that same existing power dynamic.
Amalia Leguizamón: Yes—why do we tend to overlook those who are in between? We, and [by this] I mean, sociologists and social scientists in general (and particularly the anthropologists, sociologists, and political scientists) tend to focus on the people with whom we share political [beliefs].
We put a lot of emphasis on studying movements. If you look at books or published articles, then the emphasis is mostly on the people who protest, the people who bear the cost and have done something about it. That is the bulk of books and stories about environmental justice. Those are the people who inspire us, who we want to know more about. Those are the people who we're hoping that more people will be like.
[Then you have] some people who are starting to investigate, learn about, and do more research on the powerful, the affluent, the wealthy: the people who make decisions. That's extremely important too. It's hard to access. Sometimes it's hard to understand them. I'm thinking here of not only the powerful but also people who have different politics. I'm thinking of articles and the book Strangers in Their Own Land (Hochschild). How do you enter the field to speak with people [with whom] you don't agree on politics?
[For me, I asked] how do I enter the field? What kind of questions do I need to ask to engage with people that are everyday, regular people who are doing things that are not really visible or testable? How do you test acquiescence? How do you show consensus? How can you tell when people are overtly telling you that things are working well for them, that there's something that actually isn’t? It is a challenge to the researcher.
In my case, at some point, it became extremely evident that a problem was going on because of the outcome. I had scientific data that showed that extensive and constant exposure to chemicals, and chemical fumigation harms health. There was and there is a growing protest around that. I knew that was both a reason for potential contention, [yet] in many cases, it wasn't.
But [to go] back to your question on why it’s important to focus on regular people—people in the in-between, people who bear some cost but also reap some profit…
It gives us an insight into most people’s lives. I have these conversations with my students, [who] read the book and ask, “If this is happening, why are they not activating or protesting?” [I then say,] think about your own life.
We are in a way, many of those people all the time. We're faced with all kinds of injustices, environmental hazards, and risks, and yet most of the time, we don't activate, mobilize, engage, organize, right?
Most of the time, we just find ways to make life normal and to be okay, even with risks, even when exposed to toxins. It is extremely important for us as social scientists to try to understand those dynamics because the reason the world continues to be like it is that the majority of people do agree and continue to operate without conflict. For as long as we don’t understand how those processes work, how we become acquiescent, not much will change.
Kamea Chayne: Yeah. As we dive deeper and break this binary of those who are “for or against” something, I'm starting to think that it's not been very helpful nor instructive for people to stay at the surface and to make judgments about people based on their stances on particular issues and drawing clean lines and ostracizing particular people for being for something that we're against or being anti-something that we're for.
Because we've all, at the end of the day, been conditioned by different narratives and our experiences and how they've been justified. So, while most people, I believe, share similar values at the heart of wanting good health for ourselves and our families, wanting to feel safe and secure, and wanting to do good by our greater communities however we define that, we still often end up on vastly different sides of different issues because of the stories and circumstances and social circles that we've been exposed to.
Those who are in between, I think, illustrate this point really well and challenge the dichotomy of pro and anti, top and bottom, because they prove that it's not a simple binary and that there are spillovers that if we're really interested in seeing the full picture, we should have the curiosity and humility to learn about, rather than straight-up dismissing or ostracizing people completely for what is really a nuanced stance that we may just not fully understand.
But in light of this, what other insights or questions have you been thinking about as you have focused on those who are in between? And what value can complicating this discourse offer us?
Amalia Leguizamón: The entire discourse, particularly in the media, is dominated by the binary. You're either for or against GMOs. Even National Geographic put out this story when I was writing the book, [saying] “people who are against GMOs are against science and thus more and more this and that.” Many times, this is corporate-paid, and not always right.
For me, my testing ground is always my students. Every semester I get 50 different people that I get to test [some] questions on and I get their feedback. What happens is that most people who are environmentally conscious or environmentally inclined are against GMOs. They don't want it, not in their food, not in their bodies. They don't want to feed their children with them. Yet when I asked, “Okay, when do you eat GMO crops?” My students will say, “Oh, strawberries, tomatoes, peaches,” and they would come up with all kinds of foods that are not GMO.
Our knowledge and our education of what GMO crops are, how are they grown, how they transform and impact the environment and societies is actually quite limited.
Most of our experience—and I'm saying “our” as in people who live in the United States—we experience GMO crops through consumption. (In the United States, that becomes more complicated by the fact that there are no labeling laws. There was a new labeling law that is even more confusing, so we really do not know when we're eating these GMO crops, ever.)
The whole setup is always presented [as] the for and against. If you are against, as I said, most people really have no clear idea of why they are against them, or what the particular consequences or transformations are, or how or why GMO crops work. [Then] the people who are for are mostly corporate types.
So my take with the book, and my take as a sociologist, is to go beyond that dichotomy, to go beyond the binary, and to try to investigate these nuances.
Technologies are not good or bad. When we look at it like that, then it means that the technology per se is somehow neutral and objective, and it isn’t. Technology is used by people for different purposes. The way in which technologies are deployed and adopted in different contexts is going to have many different consequences.
Planting one acre of genetically modified soybeans every three years is not the same as planting 20 million hectares twice a year over twenty-five years, with people living nearby. The consequences of the chemical drift are different, even though it is the same technology.
I always move away from, “Is this good?” to “Who is employing this technology and for which purposes, and what's happening in the middle, in between?”
Kamea Chayne: Yeah, that broader context is always really important to situate any conversation or stance within.
Something that intrigued me is when you talked about how the promotion of the national identity of being Argentinean shifted people's ways of relating to the land or their values. This is a quote that you share: "When we follow these structural and historic threads of these core values and beliefs about national identity, we can see the long-lasting impact on Argentines' perceptions of nature, rural life, agricultural production, and the nation's role in the global economy."
This invites me to think about how nationalism to me sometimes feels like a fabricated story of identity because I think it plays off our very real and innate desires and yearnings to belong. Yet, in many cases, the establishment of nation-states as political institutions came about as the result of the severance of place-based relationships and displacing those who have the deepest ties and knowledge of the landscapes that they belong to.
I'd be curious to hear you talk more about how the nationalization of one's identity and how people define their sense of self has affected Argentines’ ways of relating to the land and to community, as well as whether you think this is a pattern that we might be able to recognize elsewhere.
Amalia Leguizamón: I am always curious to understand the present in the light of the past. I don't think that it is possible to understand what's happening if you don't go back and try to figure out how people made it here. For that, we need to look at changes in the political economy, but we also need to look at cultural values and how those shape the press.
So in Argentina, to understand the presence of soybean extractivism, I found it necessary to explain that it is also a story of immigration, of the creation of the state, independent from the colonial powers.
You ask, how does this translate, or can we see this in other countries? The history of Argentina becoming a nation-state is parallel to what was happening in other Latin American countries that were becoming independent of Spain in the 1800s. Groups of men who had been educated in Europe with European values were sitting down and writing, and putting together what type of nation-state we needed. In a way, [it must have been] a very inspiring time, I can imagine. People were inspired by what happened in the United States with independence. There was a new sense of freedom.
So in Argentina, this newly-established government decides to, as I say, establish a nation-state that requires, first of all, to populate. Argentina was a massive expanse of land, that was not as populated as other newly independent countries such as Mexico or Peru, where the Indigenous empires number in the millions. So, there was the need to conquer the territory, and there were military campaigns that forced the dispossession of Indigenous peoples off their land.
Sometimes, some people [who don’t have knowledge of the United States have a misconception] of how populated the entirety of Central and South America was, [versus] Argentina. It doesn't mean that there weren’t Indigenous groups [in Argentina]—there were—but because they were more dispersed and less populated, they were conquered violently [and] quite quickly. They couldn't fight back as much as other groups, [who had] more people.
There was a military campaign that was trying to conquer the desert. One of the guiding myths established here was the idea that civilization needs to conquer barbarism. [There was] this new way, this hybrid modernity that was being established in all of these newly independent Latin American countries, [which were] trying to copy European modernity, or the processes of bringing progress through technological innovation. The adoption of Western values shaped the realities of the newly-independent, post-colonial countries.
What does “civilization” look like in the fight against “barbarism?” [These men harbored] this idea that Indigenous people, natural landscapes—everything that was non-Western—was barbaric and needed to be controlled, and tamed, and made productive through technology… and also through immigration rights.
A big process of immigration began to try to bring European people into Argentina—this is the same time period when there was massive immigration into the United States, too: the 1870s to 1920s. Massive troves of migrants arrived in Argentina, promised in the same way that those were promised in the United States: that they were going to be given land, and given tools to conquer the territory.
Here in the United States, it was called the westward expansion, this manifest destiny—so these are similar guiding myths that were taking place at the time.
The idea was that it was “right” for the European descendants to bring modernity, progress, and growth through the adoption of Western values and Western technologies (in order to make the land productive). This process for Argentina [took place] in the late 1800s to early 1900s.
[Alongside] massive migration came [this] new guiding myth of Argentina [becoming] the granary of the world, the breadbasket of the world; that of Argentina becoming a capitalist agrarian space, a capitalist agrarian country that was going to grow food to feed the world.
A particular rural producer became established, which was different from the campesino peasant, smallholder type of farmer from the rest of the Latin American region. Here, we are talking about people of immigrant descent. They were white, and they were Europeans. These were the men who were employing all kinds of agrarian technologies that were growing on a very large scale to produce crops that were mostly destined for export. The women were not involved in agriculture at all, or [if they were,] very little.
Most of it was through renting land, which is the pattern that continues now with soybean production. Using rented technologies to minimize costs and maximize profits was in accordance with the idea that the children in the family would be able to move to the city. Because another important guiding mission was the idea that Argentina was to become an urban nation—a European, modern urban nation. Many people outside Argentina know that Argentina and Uruguay had one of the earliest urban transitions in the world. So how do you put that together to grow soybeans? It makes sense, because to grow soybeans now you can do that from a distance using technology and living in the city.
It was very striking for me talking with soybean producers, [seeing] how fascinated they are by this idea of dominating nature.
They were now able to control nature, and make it predictable and profitable. [This was a pattern that carried on from how they thought of] themselves [to how they thought] of the environment.
Now, through the adoption of this technological package and through soybeans being so profitable, Argentina could grow economically. The myth of the granary of the world is reminiscent and nostalgic [in that way] for Argentines. There was a lot of promise in the early 20th century that Argentina was somehow different from the rest of Latin America, [that it] was rich—and it was, at that time, [as compared to its] current economic crisis, high poverty, high inequality. Soybeans now represent a return to that great time when Argentina was written.
All those things come together to explain support for soybean production of the modern model of development for the country.
Kamea Chayne: It certainly feels like a reflection of the colonial history extending into the present with this sort of new frontier mindset of extraction and way of relating to the land persisting to this day.
With Kregg, we had discussed the irony of improving social welfare by way of destroying ecosystems with monocultures for export and for the currency of money to be able to support the expansion of social programs. We talked about how this challenges the dominant ideas of wealth that are based on the representational currency of capital.
I want to bring a parallel question to you but focus on the idea of progress and the universalization of what advancement even means, which you had talked about throughout this conversation. But as an example, you've talked about this widely accepted humanitarian goal of feeding the world and ending global hunger through technological innovation, such as through GMO crops. Of course, I think many of our listeners will be familiar with that sort of narrative.
But how have things like this become so pervasive in discourses on social justice and sustainability where a lot of people are interested in these topics really share similar values in wanting to see the betterment of the world? Also, what underlying assumptions should be challenged from the idea of sustainable development and how it's led to these seemingly universalized goals like the United Nations SDGs that a lot of people use as the framework to base our path forward on?
Amalia Leguizamón: Well, the first thing that you were mentioning was about...
The parallels that are happening in Argentina, Uruguay, and all the other Latin American countries that are basing their economies on natural resource extraction for exportation is this extremely difficult situation which they're in.
What does progress or development mean? Now the focus around sustainable development [is] in the sense that, how can we address social needs with classical development, but do it in a way that is environmentally sustainable so that we can continue doing the same? Or tapping our natural resources in a way that future generations can still do it? That's the definition of sustainable development.
Latin American countries are in a huge dilemma because they have many poor people. The needs of the poor are extremely pressing. How do you pay for welfare programs? Infrastructure? Schools? Hospitals? What Latin American governments have [realized] for centuries now is that they are wealthy in resources that the rest of the world needs. [Which resources. in particular change—]before it was gold and silver, then it was sugar, then bananas. Now we are at a point where what brings wealth are soybeans, fresh flour, lithium for batteries. [These are] different natural resources, [but all of which] the world needs, [and thus] bring foreign income.
Many Latin American governments (and this was the case of Argentina with the Kirchners, which is the time that I'm studying) decided to tap into the natural wealth that was being exported, [through] taxes, or in some cases, [they] nationalized them, like the case of Bolivia with gas, with oil, with minerals, and Venezuela with oil. Governments decided to tap into some of this natural wealth, and redistribute that to help the poor.
How is that related to the Sustainable Development Goals that the United Nations has put forward? I find, personally, that there are some needs that are more pressing than others. Access to water, having access to food, having access to education, having access to a hospital. Those things take precedence in everyday life for people compared to protecting the environment. They do.
In all my interviews, protecting the environment often becomes something that is way too abstract to even grapple with, [to] people who are concerned about their health, and the health of their children. But if your option is between protecting the health of the children and feeding your children, feeding them often becomes more pressing.
[So] if you work in a toxic factory, the need to keep that job often takes precedence over bringing down the factory because it's polluting the entire community, if there are no other economic options. [And] I find that it is an extremely challenging situation.
It is sometimes quite easy to [say from] the outside, from the comfort of our offices, "Oh, why shouldn't we be doing all these things?" [But] in everyday life, there are all these competing needs and demands…
…. for people in their everyday life and governments as well. How do you break out from all those cycles? Particularly in a global economy! It is extremely hard for any poor country to say, “we're not going to pay our debt to the IMF, to the World Bank, and we're going to use our money to help our poor, so we can start protecting our forests.”
It's literally impossible. Unless there is some global coming together, which is what the youth movement and the climate movement were trying to bring to COP26… Until there is some global arrangement in which the Global North pays for and helps the Global South, the whole thing is extremely constrained.
Kamea Chayne: It definitely sounds like a reflection of the historical theft and the debt from colonial history never having been addressed, which leads to [the formation of] the idea, especially in “developing” or “post-colonial” communities, that in order to address their immediate, economic poverty that is tied to and often the result of the history of colonization, they may need to resort to more forms of extraction in order to make money for their immediate and more urgent needs, just to feed their families.
Without having the historical traumas being addressed, then of course, this economic system, that is full of contradictions, puts people in very difficult positions, where people often have to make these hard choices, [and] needing to prioritize their more immediate needs. [And then] through this system, a lot of those more immediate needs can only be met in ways that perpetuate other crises.
There are no easy answers and there are many contradictions, but I think it really speaks to our need for a deep, systemic overhaul.
Amalia Leguizamón: Definitely. For me, I like how you said it, addressing past wounds. Some people are now calling for debt for nature swaps, or forgiving external debts.
We can [think about how to] have these conversations with friends and colleagues, about how to hold the colonial powers responsible for this. I don't know how, but I think it is important to figure it out, or [to] keep thinking about it, because [this] needs to be considered in any multilateral agreement, or plan for climate change. It needs to be considered in international relationships and the world system.
Kamea Chayne: It's hard for me to imagine how it will happen also, but now I do feel that it is important for us to actually reverse this trend of global and self-destruction and to work towards collective healing, to really address the traumas that have not yet been addressed from the past.
In spite of there not being a unified and large movement against GMO crops in Argentina, as there might be in other countries, I'm aware that there still have been some small peasant and Indigenous groups who are leading the resistance against those top-down and corporate-backed forces.
What has some of this effort of land defense looked like, and what is it that inspires you most about some of the cracks that you're seeing being created?
Amalia Leguizamón: Fortunately, much has changed in Argentina since I did my fieldwork, and now since the book has come out. There is much more awareness and much more contestation against soybean production.
As you mentioned, some of that is being led by Indigenous movements, particularly in the North of the country and some in the South—not all related to soybeans. But there has been a lot of Indigenous activism around controlling land.
The interesting thing that the Indigenous movements bring forward is their critique and contestation against GMOs. It’s not just about GMOs, but it’s also around how agriculture and agricultural development is put forward and what type of development model Argentina is putting forward. Land is at the core of their struggle for control over the territory, for the resources. It's a demand for sovereignty.
At the same time, another type of momentum that has been growing in Argentina is from groups of people organizing against chemical fumigation. The awareness around the toxicity that comes from soybean production is much more on people's minds now. These are movements mostly led by women that have been organizing around protecting their children's health. There have been many kinds of alliances. Now there is [even] a movement of rural teachers protesting against spraying near their schools or near the hospitals. I find that to be a beautiful example of a potential alliance, that can help the movement expand.
*** CLOSING ***
Kamea Chayne: What's an impactful publication you follow or a book that's been really profound for you?
Amalia Leguizamón: The book that I have read on my desk at this moment is A Field Guide to Climate Anxiety: How to Keep Your Cool on a Warming Planet by Sarah Jaquette Ray. I teach environmental sociology every semester, and I find that more and more of my students are eager, but they're also growing more anxious, more depressed, more overwhelmed. In every class, there's a lot to discuss about theory and about how systems work, but I'm more and more paying attention to the emotions that my students bring into the classroom, particularly dealing with climate change.
I find that this book has been helping me a lot to talk to them. How do you deal with the emotions of being empowered or feeling overwhelmed? Or how do you keep showing up to something that seems so, so big or so distant, that makes you feel so small? Or particularly now with COVID that we're all so disconnected?
I thoroughly recommend this book. It is very, very well written, extremely engaging, and it gives you tips on how to deal with these emotions. But also, how you can exercise your writing and imagination, which is something that, again, because of COVID, has been crushed more and more.
Our world has become so small, it's key that we are able to think, about what type of world we want to see.
Kamea Chayne: Those are very relatable emotions that I'm sure a lot of us experience as well, so I appreciate that resource recommendation. What is a personal motto, mantra, or practice you engage with to stay grounded?
Amalia Leguizamón: I take care of myself. I take care of others and I keep showing up. That's why I keep telling my students. Take care of yourself. Take care of others. Keep showing up.
Kamea Chayne: And what is your biggest source of inspiration right now?
Amalia Leguizamón: My students. They are the ones who bring all the difficult questions and force me to be a better storyteller, to explain things differently. They care. They have an urgency. That has been changing through the 30 years that I have been teaching. They have an urgency to do something about climate change that I didn't; it wasn't there before. The youth movement for environmental and climate justice: they are part of that, and that inspires me.
Kamea Chayne: Amalia, thank you so much for joining me today. It's been a pleasure and honor to be in conversation with you. What final words of wisdom do you have for us as green dreamers?
Amalia Leguizamón: What I tell my students all the time is, “If you're not doing something yourself to change the world, someone is making the decision for you, so you better act.”
