Environmental Justice | Gardening a Bombed Island
Moderator’s
note: Speaking of the American
Empire, the prison complex at Guantanamo Bay on occupied Cuban soil is not the
only case of an unwanted and damaging U.S. military presence in Latin America and
the Caribbean. The U.S. naval bombing range at Vieques in Puero Rico is often
overlooked. From 1999 to 2003, it remained at the heart of one of the
preeminent anti-militarism struggles by environmental justice activists in the
Western Hemisphere.
I first became aware of the struggle against the bombing
range at Vieques through the work of Professor Deborah
Berman Santana, a renowned environmental justice scholar, who penned an
influential paper on environmental justice at Vieques in the journal, Social Justice (2002).
In that paper, Santana makes the case that military installations and
activities are among the worst sources of pollution. Deborah’s work presciently
connected connected militarism to environmental racism and eloquently
documented the long campaign to evict the Navy and reclaim the island for the
people of Puerto Rico.
So, how is Vieques today, some 15 years after the
bombing ended and the Navy went home? It is too easy to forget such a place,
even one that captured our imagination and thirst for justice, once the
struggle has ended and life has moved on.
It is a pleasure to present this portrait of Vieques as
it is today from the vantage point of Carmelo Ruíz-Marrero. There is growing
crime and the looming threat of gentrification but Carmelo also found
close-knit people working hard to restore the land and re-establish its role in
maintaining a healthy community. The new island is a work-in-progress – and at
its heart, local people are working to produce a sustainable heritage landscape
that includes conventional growers and more innovative organic farmers. As I
understand it, some of the island’s beekeepers are learning
how to produce honey from Africanized bees.
If you can get rid of the Navy’s bombers, you can
certainly handle some angry bees while learning to make peace with the local
landscape. The island is a crossroads of economic deprivation and creativity,
as is so often the case when marginality is an inventive force.
There is another part to this story and not all is
happy local food times for all! While the people are creatively obtaining right
livelihoods on the island they are also trying to produce food and other
materials on a landscape that still has very serious pollution problems from
the decades of environmental abuse by the American military. As Carmelo notes:
Vieques was
mercilessly bombed for sixty years from both sea and air. And the explosions
lifted up deadly clouds of dust polluted with heavy metals and toxic chemicals
used in ordnance and even particulate from uranium ammunition. These clouds of
death moved downwind to the west, blanketing the civilian zone. The cancer rate
among Vieques residents is 26.9% above Puerto Rico’s average…
So, the Navy may be long gone but it
left a toxic legacy behind; one that is still affecting the health and wellbeing
of the people of Vieques.
This essay originally appeared in Counterpunch
Magazine, Vol. 21, No. 4. May 2014.
 |
Map of Vieques used by EPA to manage Superfund sites. |
Return to Vieques
ORGANIC GARDENS AMIDST TOXIC LEGACY?
Carmelo Ruíz-Marrero | Vieques, P.R.
| January 2014
The ferry from the town of Fajardo to
Vieques island leaves at 4:30 pm. I arrive at 4:25 and there is a line at the
ticket counter, made up of Viequenses and tourists who seem to have been
waiting for quite a while. The line does not move and the ferry takes off
without us. Next ferry comes at 8. Some respond with resignation and others
with fury, which they vent at the port employees, the poor saps.
This is not unusual. Getting in and out
of Vieques can be a real hassle sometimes due to the ferry’s frequent delays
and breakdowns. You could fly there from Fajardo airport or from the
international airport in the San Juan metro area, but most Viequenses could
never even dream of affording plane travel- certainly not on a regular basis-,
and many tourists that go to the island are backpackers on a shoestring budget.
Whenever the ferry breaks down, all of Vieques might as well be under house
arrest.
Twice the size of Manhattan and located
to the east of the main island of Puerto Rico, Vieques had most of its land
occupied by the US Navy at the start of World War Two for use in war games and
target practice, and as munitions depot (1). An unprecedented mass civil
disobedience campaign from 1999 to 2003 forced the Navy to close down its
firing range in the island’s eastern half. I had visited Vieques several times
as a journalist since the 1990’s, when local residents expressed to me their
feelings of frustration and hopelessness after decades of efforts to get the
Navy to leave and let them be (2), and witnessed in April 1999 how a small
group of protesters started a wildcat sit-in inside the firing range. The
protest snowballed into a massive non-violent movement of defiance that turned
all of Puerto Rican society upside down and got noticed all over the world (3).
Now the Navy target practice and war
games are a thing of the past. The island now has a generation of teens too
young to have heard bombs falling a few miles away from them, or to have seen
the desobedientes stepping off the
ferry, coming by the hundreds, from Puerto Rico’s Isla Grande and even from the
USA, trespassing by sea and land into the territory occupied by the Navy, many
of them getting arrested and sent to federal prison.
After victory in 2003 the international
peace movement pretty much forgot about Vieques, faced with more urgent issues,
like the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Most of the Puerto Rican activistas returned to their normal
lives, as those four years of relentless and exhausting anti-Navy activities
strained the family lives and professional careers of many of them almost to
the breaking point. So, what ever happened to Vieques? How is life after the
Navy? I was about to find out. I had not set foot there in six years.
Stuck in Fajardo, I look around for
ways to kill 3½ hours. The ferry terminal is only a stone’s throw away from
posh mega-resorts and luxury marinas to the north, but there is nothing to
suggest tourism in this scruffy, working class part of town. I remember this
place being much more lively. The Delicias Hotel, right across the street from
the pier and once used so much by travelers who had to take the early morning
ferry, is now closed; an abandoned decaying eyesore. There is only one business
within walking distance: a lackluster bar on the ground level of what used to
be the Delicias. Actually, there is a cafeteria on the pier, but going there is
hitting rock bottom. If empanadilla de
pizza washed down with cola does it for you, then you are welcome to eat
there.
The ferry starts to board its aghast
and tired passengers at 8pm and departs just over half an hour later. We arrive
in the pier at the Isabel Segunda village in Vieques’ north coast at about ten.
There is no reasonable expectation of public transport this late in the
evening. If getting to this island can be problematic, moving around in it is a
bigger issue. The roads in Vieques are not pedestrian-friendly or
bike-friendly. And if you have a car, gas is extremely expensive here. In
Vieques, moving from point A to point B is almost always an issue, especially
if you are on a tight budget.
 |
Vieques Superfund site. Credit: repeatingislands |
My friend Elisa, a lifelong tireless
activist from the San Juan area, picks me up in a borrowed car. Driving us to
Esperanza, on the island’s southern half, she tells me things: Crime is
skyrocketing. Last year there were over a dozen murders, and the police made
not one arrest. There is around one murder a week this year so far. The last
murder victim was grotesquely mutilated and displayed on Facebook.
Interestingly enough, no tourist has
ever been touched by this violence, except for an occasional robbery here and
there. There is a consensus among the population, even among the lowliest cacos and hoodlums, that any violent
crime committed against a tourist would amount to a collective economic suicide
for Vieques.
We pass by herds of horses as we drive
to Esperanza. Elisa informs me that the murder before the last one had been
caused by a dispute over these. You can see horses all over Vieques, grazing
and lazily hanging out in twos or in groups. Uninformed tourists call them wild
horses, but they all have owners, and the owners always know where they are.
For tourists it is simply delightful to see them lounging about on the beach
and in town. But for many residents they are a real bother: They eat harvests;
defecate in public places; and block traffic, causing car accidents especially
at night.
I leave my things in the house where I’m
staying, and then we’re off to dinner. We drive by the boardwalk at Esperanza,
lively and full of tourists consuming and spending. She advises we go someplace
else: “the food here is expensive and bad”. The “boom” of Navy bombs, which
ended for good 15 years ago, has given way to another boom, that of real
estate, speculation and gentrification (4). Well off white Americans come here
to start businesses and employ friends they bring along, leaving the most
humiliating and menial jobs to the locals. That is, whenever they hire any
locals at all.
We are back in Isabel Segunda. We stop
in a street corner where a Viequense called Geigel cooks hamburgers under a
tent. Geigel works at the Vieques-Fajardo ferry and also runs a farm in the
island’s south. And on weekend nights he makes a little extra cash with his
hamburgers, which are popular among those looking for homemade fare at
proletarian prices. I’m told he also runs a photography studio, but I will
believe it when I see it; I mean, how does he find the time? Geigel puts cheese
on my burger, and more, more, more meat. It’s enormous, it’s the size of a zip
code, its a hamburger that could kill Burger King. It’s simply delicious, but
eating it makes me fear I have just exceeded my cholesterol quota for the whole
week.
The following day we hop from one farm
to another. We start at Geigel’s farm, on the north side of the road between
Esperanza and Lujan. Although he incorporates some ecological elements in his
farming, it’s a conventional non-organic operation. Geigel plants guava,
passion fruit, basil, mamey, salad greens including four varieties of spinach,
mustard, okra, tomato, lilac pepper, pumpkin, and other crops. His main
customers are local supermarkets and hotels. He used to provide Wal-Mart with
5,000 pounds of eggplant per week, but right now production is scaled down
somewhat as Geigel is busy reorganizing the farm, and applying for Agriculture
Department for help putting an additional 25 acres into production and hiring
full time staff.
Next door to Geigel’s farm, on the west
side, is the Hydro Organics farm (5). Vanessa Valedon, the co-owner, shows us
around. The 30-acre lot has squash, green beans, papaya, moringa, avocado,
coconut, eggplant, pineapple, guava, romaine lettuce, and lemongrass, as well
as a tilapia pond. The labor force consists mostly of woofers, internationalist
backpackers that work in sustainable farms all over the world in exchange for
no more than food and lodging. The farm is run according to the principles of
permaculture, a discipline that combines agriculture, ecology, architecture and
design.
We finish our tour in Monte Carmelo, a
squatter community with an extraordinary history of struggle, hardship and
solidarity. Founded by the charismatic grassroots organizer Carmelo
Felix-Matta, this community was built on high ground seized from the Navy. I
first went to Vieques in 1989 as part of a contingent of University of Puerto
Rico students that participated in what is now remembered as the Battle of
Monte Carmelo, the decisive confrontation with the US Navy in which the
community earned its permanence.
I had not been to Monte Carmelo since
then. Things have changed quite a bit in these last 25 years. Gentrification
has set in; rich Americans have moved into the neighborhood, and in general the
place has been overrun by people, both rich and poor, who would rather not be
found. But this hillside still has the crazy look of a totally unplanned
community, a planner’s textbook case of how not to do things.
 |
Carracas/Red Beach. This is what drives gentrification. Credit: repeatingislands |
We drive uphill through an unpaved road
that is impassable when it rains, up to the farm of Jorge Cora. The farm is on
a hill summit with a majestic view of the island’s south coast, including the
gorgeous Sun Bay public beach and Mosquito Bay, the latter famous for the
nighttime glow of its waters, caused by bioluminescent microorganisms. Cora
lives in this hilltop in a modest wooden structure with no electricity. He
plants vegetables, lettuce, peppers, neem, beets, basil, tobacco, and other
crops. He uses no pesticides and no industrial agricultural inputs, and gets no
government help of any kind. Proud of his independence, Cora lives fully
according to his beliefs, in the tradition of Thoureau and Puerto Rico’s rural
jíbaros of yesteryear and today.
But, is all this produce safe to eat?
After all, Vieques was mercilessly bombed for sixty years from both sea and
air. And the explosions lifted up deadly clouds of dust polluted with heavy
metals and toxic chemicals used in ordnance (6), and even particulate from
uranium ammunition (7). These clouds of death moved downwind to the west, blanketing
the civilian zone. The cancer rate among Vieques residents is 26.9% above
Puerto Rico’s average, according to PR Health Department statistics compiled in
the 1990’s. Peer reviewed in situ studies carried out by the non-governmental
organization Casa Pueblo determined that there are toxic military residues in
the civilian zone, and that these are traveling up the food chain (8). These
toxics accumulate in the fatty tissues of herbivores like cattle and chickens
and eventually end up in the bodies of humans that eat them.
Professor Arturo Massol, Casa Pueblo’s
in house biologist, told me further studies are needed in order to reach a
conclusive verdict regarding the safety of produce grown in Vieques. Casa
Pueblo’s credibility and standing are beyond question. For its crucial role in
preventing strip mining in Puerto Rico’s central mountain range, its
participation in the anti-Navy struggle in Vieques, and many other
contributions in the fields of ecology and culture, the organization won the
prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize in 2002 (9).
It is quite probable that some crops
accumulate more environmental toxins than others, and that the various soil
types and erosion patterns in Vieques mean that some locations may be cleaner
than others. But studies to determine this have yet to be done. In the
meantime, the Viequenses wait for answers.
ENDNOTES (Not available in the print
version)
(1) I pretty much summarize the case
against the Navy in this op-ed column published by the Progressive Media
Project in the Spring of 2000. http://carmeloruiz.blogspot.com/2014/01/a-vieques-op-ed-i-wrote-in-early-2000.html
(2) Carmelo Ruiz-Marrero. "US Navy
not wanted here" IPS News, April 7 1998. http://www.ipsnews.net/1998/04/environment-puerto-rico-us-navy-not-wanted-here/
(3) Carmelo
Ruiz-Marrero. "Puerto Ricans Battle US Navy in
Vieques" Synthesis/Regeneration, Summer 2001. http://www.greens.org/s-r/25/25-09.html
(4) Carmelo Ruiz-Marrero. "The
Second Invasion of Vieques" Fellowship of Reconciliation, August 30
2003. http://forusa.org/blogs/for/second-invasion-vieques/7984
(6) Carmelo Ruiz-Marrero "Bombs
Away, Vieques Unearths Toxic Navy Trash" IPS News, December 31 2003 http://www.commondreams.org/headlines03/1231-03.htm
(7) "Vieques Residents Alarmed
by Depleted Uranium Reports" IPS News, January 30 2001. http://www.commondreams.org/headlines.shtml?/headlines01/0130-03.htm
(8) Arturo Massol & Elba Díaz de
Osborne "Vieques en crisis ambiental" http://casapueblo.org/index.php/vieques/
(9) Carmelo Ruiz-Marrero "CASA
PUEBLO: An environmental success story" https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/carmeloruiz/conversations/messages/899, http://www.goldmanprize.org/2002/islands
Ruiz-Marrero is a Puerto
Rican author, investigative journalist and environmental educator. He is a
senior fellow of the Environmental Leadership Program and a research associate
of the Institute for Social Ecology. He is editor of the Latin America Energy
and Environment Monitor, a bilingual online observatory of conflicts over
natural resources in the Latin American region; go to: http://energyandenvironmentmonitor.blogspot.com/.
His 10 year-old personal
blog is at: http://carmeloruiz.blogspot.com/)
and offers a hodgepodge of items of progressive and activist interests. His
Twitter ID is @carmeloruiz.
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