Extractivist Geographies: Mining and Development in Late-Nineteenth and Early-Twentieth-Century Peru

Abstract

In Peru, development dreams have not infrequently been hitched to the expansion of mining and other extractive activities. While the Peruvian state pursued strategies to stimulate mining expansion during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the geography of capitalist mining that emerged mapped poorly onto the national development imaginaries of the country’s elites. State-led efforts to mobilize subsurface resources in the service of national-level development conflicted with the tendency for extractive economies to exhibit uneven and discontinuous spatialities. Attention to the long-run unevenness of extractive investment in global resource frontiers such as Peru promises to deepen understandings of both world environmental history and the contemporary politics of resource extractivism.

En el Perú, los sueños de desarrollo han sido enganchados con frecuencia a la expansión de la minería y otras actividades extractivas. Mientras que el estado peruano siguió estrategias para estimular la expansión minera a fines del siglo XIX y principios del XX, la geografía de la minería capitalista que surgió no se proyectó bien en los imaginarios de desarrollo nacional de las élites del país. Los esfuerzos dirigidos por el estado para movilizar los recursos del subsuelo al servicio del desarrollo a nivel nacional contradijeron la tendencia de las economías extractivas a mostrar espacialidades desparejas y discontinuas. La atención al carácter desparejo a largo plazo de la inversión extractiva en las fronteras de recursos globales, como Perú, promete profundizar el entendimiento tanto de la historia ambiental mundial como de la política contemporánea del extractivismo de recursos.

Keywords

Mining Development Extractivism Peru World environmental history

The department of Ancachs offers rich and varied products in the three kingdoms, mineral, vegetable, and animal; yet it is in minerals that nature has shown itself to be most generous. From the perspective of mineral products, the department of Ancachs has no rivals in Peru other than the department of Junín; and yet…Mineralized hills are more common than in Junín, given that along the full longitude of the two high cordilleras that run the length of the department, there is virtually no point where some mineral is not found.

—Antonio Raimondi, El departamento de Ancachs y sus riquezas minerales, 1873

In 1873, the Italian-born naturalist Antonio Raimondi published El departamento de Ancachs y sus riquezas minerales. Based on his travels in Peru in the 1850s and 1860s, the book is a wide-ranging examination of Ancash’s social and physical characteristics, addressing matters as diverse as political boundaries, fluvial systems, transportation networks, agricultural production, geological history, architectural features, and local beliefs and customs. Its title, however, divulges Raimondi’s main interest: Ancash’s “mineral riches,” which, he contended, “despite being very abundant are almost completely unknown” (Raimondi, 2006: 99). As a means of rectifying this situation, he provided both general observations on Ancash’s mineral resources (specifically gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, zinc, mercury, and coal) and a detailed catalog of the physical and chemical properties of 545 mineral samples collected from sites— principally mines—across the department. To accompany the book he made what the Raimondi scholar Luis Felipe Villacorta Ostolaza (2006: 61–62) calls “the best map published up to that time for any area within national territory.” Along with topographical features and population centers, the map identifies the locations of numerous mining operations and the route of a planned railway from the port of Chimbote to the highland town of Recuay. Henry Meiggs, the North American railroad builder, had recently secured a contract from the Peruvian state to construct this railway; he had also financed the publication of Raimondi’s book.

The book and map can be viewed as a complex mixture of science and promotion— what might be called “scientific boosterism.” The naturalist’s detailed examination of the department’s territorial features was intimately tied to a normative vision of how the region— and the nation as a whole—should be developed. In particular, Raimondi believed that it was through the expanded exploitation of minerals and other natural resources that regions like Ancash would progress and that this economic dynamism would contribute to wider goals of national development and integration (Bonfiglio, 2004; Villacorta Ostolaza, 2006). He was not alone in this. Indeed, such thinking underpinned a “scientific nationalism” that emerged in Peru in the late nineteenth century (Contreras and Cueto, 2008). Meanwhile, the support of Meiggs signaled that Ancash was being positioned not just for national integration but also for international integration as a mining frontier for the late-nineteenth-century global economy.

However, while ensuing decades saw an influx of foreign capital into Peru’s mining sector, the bulk of this investment was “selectively territorialized” (Ferguson, 2005: 378) to the south of Ancash in the hills of Cerro de Pasco (department of Junín). The dramatic socio-environmental changes that followed from the expansion of foreign mining capital into this region of Peru’s central highlands have been chronicled (e.g., DeWind, 1987; Long and Roberts, 1984). In Ancash, the railroad was never completed, and the department’s mineral deposits were left to small- and medium-scale operators. In 1970 a historian bemoaned the department’s lack of economic dynamism, declaring, “The department continues on a path of economic languor” (Alvarez-Brun, 1970: 236). Only in the late twentieth century did major mining investment arrive in Ancash. After the neoliberalization of Peru’s mining sector in the early 1990s (Bury, 2005), the department became a prime target for transnational mining capital and came to host two large-scale mines: the US$265 million Pierina gold mine and the US$2.3 billion Antamina copper-zinc mine (Gil, 2009; Himley, 2016).¹

The history of mining in Ancash thus highlights the fact that while Andean Peru has long been a global extractive frontier (Becker, 1983; Dore, 2000; Galeano, 1971), the spatial and temporal patterns of mineral resource development in this region have been uneven. It also suggests that while Raimondi and other late-nineteenth-century Peruvian elites considered the expansion of mining and other resource industries mechanisms for achieving national development and integration, geographies of mineral investment in the early twentieth century did not coincide with these national development imaginaries. Rather than invigorating economies and spurring progress across various subnational regions as Raimondi and others had hoped, mining investment was spatially concentrated, especially in the central-highland department of Junín. The result was an uneven geography of mineral resource development and the selective incorporation of Andean peoples, places, and environments into the financial and material circuits of the early-twentieth-century global economy.

This paper examines these historical geographies of mining promotion and development. Engaging with recent scholarship on the spatiality of mineral and hydrocarbon economies (e.g., Bridge, 2010; 2011; Ferguson, 2005; 2006), I draw attention to long-standing antagonisms between government-led efforts to mobilize subsurface resources in the service of national-level development projects and the tendency for extractive economies to exhibit a “punctuated and discontinuous geographical expression” (Bridge, 2011: 318). My analysis of this history suggests that attention to the long-run spatial and temporal unevenness of resource-industry investment and development within global resource frontiers such as Peru can bring a greater degree of geographical nuance to understandings of world environmental history.

Such a focus also promises insights into contemporary struggles over extractivist development policies and their socio-environmental implications. In Peru, where proponents have long cast mining as a basic feature of national identity, attention to the spatially and temporally uneven development of the country’s mining industry makes clear that people’s historical experiences with the mining economy vary markedly among and within subnational regions. The polluted landscapes, memories of mineworker struggles, and other legacies of earlier rounds of mineral-resource development remain present in material and symbolic terms; they continue to animate mining politics (Himley, 2014a). These legacies, however, like the investments that produced them, are spatially uneven. Therefore conflicts over present-day mining activities play out across highly variegated landscapes of “historically sedimented resource struggles” (D. S. Moore, 1998: 378). In this context, attention to past geographies of mineral investment and development like those examined in this paper holds the potential to enhance explanations of the diverse ways in which people across Peru’s new and old mining regions confront and shape the trajectory of industry growth and change today.

Development and the Spatiality of Extraction

The growth in recent years of extractivist policies among governments of varied political ideologies has rekindled debates over whether and how subsurface resource mobilization leads to socioeconomic development (Bebbington and Humphreys Bebbington, 2010; Bebbington et al., 2008; Gudynas, 2009). The argument for development-through-extraction policies is buttressed by historical and contemporary “success stories” in which mineral and hydrocarbon resources are considered to have been effectively converted into national or regional development gains— Botswana, California, Canada, and Norway being among the regularly cited examples (see, inter alia, Schoenberger, 2015; Walker, 2001). In Latin America, these debates take place in the context of a long history of political leaders’ hitching their development dreams to the expansion of the extractive sectors (Coronil, 1997; Hecht and Cockburn, 2010; Sawyer, 2004). From the oil fields of Ecuador, Mexico, and Venezuela to the mining regions of Bolivia, Chile, and Peru, the prospect of transforming nature’s wealth into socioeconomic progress and even modernity itself (see Coronil, 1997) has been highly seductive. Achieving this, however, has been neither simple nor painless. As Eduardo Galeano chronicled decades ago, Latin America’s history is rife with cases of extractive industry being associated not with inclusive and broad-based development but with economic underdevelopment, social marginalization, and environmental degradation (Galeano, 1971; see also Bunker, 1985; Dore, 2000).

Recent social-science literature has been attuned to the contentious and ambiguous (see Bebbington et al., 2008) relationship of resource extraction to development. Research on this topic can be categorized into three broad areas, each tending to prioritize a particular scale of analysis. One area of research centers on the resource-curse hypothesis. The term “resource curse” is meant to convey the paradoxical idea that countries “rich” in resources (particularly nonrenewable resources such as minerals and hydrocarbons) tend to “underperform” in economic terms and be vulnerable to various social and political problems (e.g., transparency deficits, corruption, civil conflict) that limit the capacity of extraction to deliver development gains (Bebbington et al., 2008). Work on the resource curse thus turns the development-through-extraction argument on its head, and the concept has made significant inroads into public and policy discourses (see, e.g., The Economist, 2005) despite criticism of the hypothesis on both empirical and analytical grounds (Bridge, 2008; Havranek, Horvath, and Zeynalov, 2016). In contrast to this literature, in which the nation-state tends to be the privileged scale of analysis (Bridge, 2008), a second strand of research employs a world-historical perspective to analyze how and to what effect societies and ecologies have across centuries become integrated into the global capitalist economy as sites of resource extraction (e.g., Bunker and Ciccantell, 2005; J. W. Moore, 2003). In many ways rooted in work from historical anthropology on the interconnections that have resulted from the expansion of global commodity markets (e.g., Mintz, 1985; Wolf, 1982), this scholarship has deployed concepts such as unequal ecological exchange and metabolic rift to understand how and why resource frontiers in global “peripheries” become subject to the dictates of “core” economies, the result typically being a highly uneven distribution of the costs and benefits of resource extraction at the global scale (Bunker, 1985; Hornborg, McNeill, and Martinez-Alier, 2007; J. W. Moore, 2003). Finally, a third branch of scholarship adopts a more spatially focused perspective to analyze, often in great detail, the political-ecological dynamics of extractive industries (Bebbington and Bury, 2013). In this work the focus tends to be on the complex and diverse impacts of extractive operations at local or regional scales and on how social groups in extractive regions respond to and mobilize in the context of industry expansion (Budds and Hinojosa, 2012; Bury, 2005; Himley, 2013; Horowitz, 2015; Perreault, 2013).

Despite marked differences in analytical approach, research in these three areas calls attention to a wide array of challenges, risks, and contradictions associated with efforts to spur socioeconomic development through subsurface resource extraction. In the context of this broad tapestry of scholarship, I highlight here a growing recognition of the need for more explicit consideration of the spatiality of extractive economies. While attention to the spatial characteristics of extractive industry has a long history (e.g., in the literature on extractive enclaves [see Phelps, Atienza, and Arias, 2015]), recent research has focused on the uneven, variegated, and discontinuous spatial manifestations of resource extraction activities and has drawn out the implications of extraction’s “peculiar spatialities” (Bridge, 2010: 46) for socioeconomic development.

Illustrative in this respect is work by James Ferguson (2005; 2006) on the territorialization of oil and mining investment in contemporary neoliberal Africa. This investment, according to Ferguson (2005: 379), may be thought of as “global” in the sense that it travels from one part of the globe to another, but “it does not encompass or cover contiguous geographic space.” Rather, extractive investment “jump[s] from point to point . . . neatly skipping over most of what lies in between.” The result, says Ferguson, is an extractive landscape made up of irregularly placed, privately secured territorial enclaves that are linked to transnational networks but disarticulated from both local populations and national development projects.

Gavin Bridge (2010; 2011) makes a similar set of arguments in his analyses of the landscapes of energy extraction. According to Bridge (2010: 46), the extraction of fossil fuels (oil, gas, coal) takes the form of a “geograph[y] of holes,” with “an oil well or mine shaft represent[ing] a discrete, molecular point of access rather than a contiguous territorial claim.”² In contrast to the “expansive geographies of forestry or agriculture,” the extraction of fossil fuels takes place in and through particular points of space. As a result, landscapes of fossil-fuel extraction are constituted by “discrete spatial monopolies—patchworks of mining claims and oil concessions” in which power derives from “the ability to control specific patches of ground.” One implication of the “piecemeal and discontinuous spatiality of extractive landscapes” is that the geography of extraction typically “does not coincide well with notions of national territory or development.”

Analyses like these highlight the need for close attention to the spatiality of extractive economies when assessing the forms and patterns of socioeconomic development that subsurface resource extraction generates (as well as those that it fails to generate). In particular, these analyses indicate the need for studies of the extraction-development nexus to consider the geographically uneven development of extractive activities across multiple scales rather than centering assessments on a particular one (e.g., global, national, or local/regional). As both Ferguson and Bridge underscore, analyses of the complex spatialities of subsurface resource exploitation are especially useful for understanding the often-troubled relationship between extraction and projects of national development. In this paper I draw on these insights to examine the historical relationship between mining and development in Peru, focusing on the decades spanning the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This period witnessed both significant efforts by the Peruvian state to encourage the expansion of mining activities and an influx of foreign mining investment, principally from the United States, that established technological, organizational, and spatial patterns of mining-industry development with far-reaching and long-lasting socioeconomic and environmental consequences.

Mining and the Promise of Development in Peru

The decades spanning the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were a period of major changes for the global mining industry. Demand for industrial metals (e.g., copper, iron, lead, zinc) rose steeply because of industrial development in North America and Europe (David and Wright, 1997; Dore, 2000). Conceptual and methodological advances in the scientific assessment and representation of the subsoil led to new ways of identifying, characterizing, and valuing minerals and other subsurface resources (Braun, 2000; Frehner, 2011; Oldroyd, 2003). In many countries, new forms of government support led to an expansion of geoscientific knowledge production, including through the creation of state geological surveys and through state sponsorship of mining-engineering and metallurgy schools (David and Wright, 1997; Wengenroth, 2003). Technological innovations allowed for the scaling up of mineral production and the exploitation of increasingly lower-grade ores, with major socioeconomic and environmental implications (Dore, 2000; LeCain, 2009). On top of all this, these decades saw important transformations in spatial patterns of mining investment and development globally, in particular a surge of investment from capital-rich economies in overseas mining ventures. For extractive economies in Latin America, this global-scale spatial restructuring of mining activities entailed the increasing dominance of foreign capital and the progressive denationalization of mining industries (Dore, 2000). In Peru, Mexico, and Chile, for instance, small-scale copper-lead-zinc mines that had been developed by domestic capitalists in the late nineteenth century in response to increasing demand for industrial metals in Europe and the United States were purchased and subsequently expanded and modernized by foreign firms with greater access to capital (DeWind, 1987; Dore, 2000; Thorp and Bertram, 1978).

In the case of Peru, the historical-geographical evolution of mining during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries both reflected and was shaped by these broad transformations. As in many parts of Latin America, mineral extraction has long been central to Peru’s economy (Contreras, 1998; Dore, 2000). During the era of Spanish colonialism, the mining of precious metals (in particular silver) was the colonial state’s overriding objective, and throughout the Central Andes (today’s Peru and Bolivia), mining drove extensive social and environmental changes (Dore, 2000; Galeano, 1971; Mann, 2011). The importance of mining continues today: in 2016 mineral exports accounted for roughly 65 percent of Peru’s total exports, and the country ranked second in the world in copper, silver, and zinc production, fourth in lead and molybdenum production, and sixth in gold and tin production (MINEM, 2017).³

However, during the second half of the nineteenth century, the future of Peruvian mining was uncertain. In the decades following Peruvian independence in the 1820s, the economic importance of mining had been reduced, in large measure because of the rapid growth of guano production (Gootenberg, 1989). By the later decades of the nineteenth century, mining was commonly considered to have fallen into a state of decline due to factors including technological stagnation and state neglect (Contreras, 1998). In 1861 Raimondi wrote, “Seeing the almost completely abandoned mining sites, it is impossible to believe that they were all exhausted at one time; and reflecting on this, we must believe that the governments that followed after [independence] much neglected the field of mining” (quoted in Contreras, 1998: 108). In recent years scholars have called into question the extent of mining stagnation during the nineteenth century, noting that representations like Raimondi’s of an economy in decline overlooked both mining activities undertaken by indigenous miners in places like Huancavelica (Díaz and Contreras, 2008) and significant regional economic impacts of mining activity organized and controlled by nonindigenous miners in places like Cerro de Pasco (Deustua, 2000). Nevertheless, by the late nineteenth century, modernizing Peruvian elites commonly considered mining an underdeveloped industry, one that with proper state support, infrastructural development, and capital investment could be catalyzed to stimulate economic development, increase government revenues, and support state efforts to integrate the country’s diverse peoples and regions into the Peruvian nation (Contreras and Cueto, 2008; Cueto, 1989).

Among the subsequent efforts by state actors to encourage mining and other resource development in Peru’s Andean region was the direct and indirect sponsorship of mining-related technoscientific development, including expedition-based scientific inquiry directed at identifying and cataloging the country’s mineral and other resource endowments (Contreras and Cueto, 2008). According to Marcos Cueto (1989), during the late nineteenth century Peruvian elites, influenced by the positivism emanating from Europe, thought that developing the country’s economy and unifying the nation required systematic knowledge of Peruvian territory and its resources, which, until then, had been largely unknown from an empirical and scientific perspective. The Peruvian state thus fostered an expansion of “resource science” by funding individual scientists—for instance, Raimondi, who was given the title “Geólogo Consultor del Estado” (Consultant Geologist to the State)—and by supporting the creation of scientific institutions. These included the Escuela Especial de Construcciones Civiles y de Minas (Special School for Civil Construction and Mining), founded in 1876, and the Sociedad Geográfica de Lima (Lima Geographical Society), established in 1891 as a unit of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Contreras and Cueto, 2008; López-Ocón Cabrera, 1995; López Soria, 2012). These institutions sponsored expeditions into Peru’s interior that were aimed at generating knowledge of its territorial features, including its minerals. Their published accounts of these scientific activities contributed to efforts to make these resources known to broader audiences (including potential investors) within and outside of Peru.

A second aspect of the Peruvian state’s efforts to stimulate the country’s resource industries was the expansion of the country’s rail transportation network. As Carlos Contreras (2010) notes, commentators in the late nineteenth century often drew attention to the difficulty and cost of moving people and goods across Peruvian territory, especially in the Andean region, where the terrain is extremely rugged and uneven. Moreover, existing transportation networks in the Andean region were primarily caminos de herradura (bridleways) that were “suitable only for mules, llamas, and men” (Contreras, 2010: 63). From an economic perspective, this situation encouraged localized markets for most products, the major exceptions being products that had a high value in relation to their weight such as refined silver (Contreras, 2010). In this context, Peru’s modernizing elites began to put great faith in the railroad as a catalyst for social and economic development. Manuel Pardo, future president and a strong proponent of railroad construction, wrote, “The first miracle that the locomotive brings about, and it brings this about everywhere, is to create values where none exists, discover real importance in what previously had none, utilize things that before were useless” (1860, quoted in McEvoy, 2004: 103).

Pardo was one of several leaders who during the 1860s promoted using the wealth that had been accruing to the Peruvian state from the export of guano for railroad construction (Contreras, 2010; Stewart, 2000). These efforts began to bear fruit in the late 1860s. In 1868 construction began on a railway that would link the port of Mollendo to the cities of Arequipa and Puno in the southern Peruvian Andes. In subsequent years, several more major railway projects were initiated; all aimed to link coastal ports to highland areas and, it was hoped, eventually to the navigable rivers of Peru’s Amazon region (Contreras and Cueto, 2008). Railroad construction was a monumental enterprise. Planning and building lines that would rise thousands of vertical meters up steep-walled valleys and across rugged Andean terrain required not only technical expertise but also the massive mobilization of supplies (bridgeworks, engines, rails, ties, etc.) and labor (Costa y Laurent, 1908; Stewart, 2000). According to one estimate, as many as 10,000 laborers were employed at a given time on construction of the line that would run from the port of Callao to the central-highland town of La Oroya; many of these were of Chinese or Chilean origin, while others were recruited from Andean villages (Stewart, 2000). Working conditions were harsh: deaths due to disease and accidents were frighteningly common, as were desertions and confrontations with management (Stewart, 2000).

By 1876 nearly 2,000 kilometers of railway track had been laid (Contreras, 2010). At that point, fiscal crises and the War of the Pacific (1879–1883) resulted in the suspension of railroad building, with the war also leading to the destruction of some already completed portions as well as the loss of lines located in territory captured by Chile (Contreras, 2010; Stewart, 2000). It was only in the first decade of the twentieth century—after the rights to Peru’s railways had been ceded for a period of 66 years to an English firm, the Peruvian Corporation, as part of the infamous Grace Contract—that significant railroad building resumed (Kemp Heiland, 2002). By 1920 more than 3,100 kilometers of railways had been built (Contreras, 2010).

In addition to funding scientific exploration and railroad construction, the state sought to spur the expansion of the mining economy through legal reforms aimed at rationalizing and making more investor-friendly the institutional framework for mining activities. Significant in this respect was a law passed in 1877 that fostered the centralized administration of mining activities through the creation of an official padrón de minas (mining registry), while also establishing a tax to be paid by mine owners on a biannual basis, the revenues from which were to be used, in part, to fund the newly created mining school (Belaunde Moreyra, 2009; Contreras, 1998; López Soria, 2012). The major change to mining legislation that occurred during this period, however, came with the 1901 Mining Code. Based on a project prepared by the Sociedad Nacional de Minería (National Society for Mining), the primary industry group of the period, the code was notable for the expanded rights it granted to private mine owners and concession holders (Belaunde Moreyra, 2009; Contreras, 1998).

In short, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the Peruvian state sought to stimulate mining and other resource development activities through a variety of technoscientific, infrastructural, and institutional measures. As is perhaps most plainly exemplified in the cases of planned railroads not completed (one example being the Chimbote-to-Recuay line in Ancash), these efforts were in many ways incomplete and uneven (Stewart, 2000).⁴ Further, the extent to which the War of the Pacific, which destroyed infrastructure and threw the country into chaos, derailed the Peruvian state’s efforts to catalyze mining and other resource economies cannot be overlooked. Nonetheless, evidence suggests that the state’s efforts did, in fact, contribute to a period of growth in Peruvian mining that began roughly in the last decade of the nineteenth century. Significantly, however, the geographies of mining investment and industry growth that would subsequently emerge in the early twentieth century mapped poorly onto the visions of extraction-led national development held by many late-nineteenth-century leaders.

Mining Promotion and Development: Mismatched Geographies

Examining the geographies of resource science and railway building that occurred in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries suggests that promoters of these activities envisioned their leading to expanded resource development activities across a variety of regions within Peru. For the first of these activities, state-sponsored scientific investigation into Peru’s resource endowments, a review of the publications of leading scientific institutions indicates that a broad range of actual and potential mineral-producing locales received attention (Figure 1). For instance, the first 6 volumes of the Escuela Especial de Construcciones Civiles y de Minas’s Anales de Construcciones Civiles y de Minas (Annals of Civil Construction and Mining), published between 1880 and 1887, contained articles on mineral resources and/or mining operations in five Peruvian departments (Ancash, Apurímac, Junín, La Libertad, and Puno). The first 10 volumes of the Boletín de la Sociedad Geográfica de Lima (Bulletin of the Lima Geographical Society), published between 1891 and 1900, include articles on mineral resources located in at least six departments (Arequipa, Ayacucho, Junín, Moquegua, Puno, and Tacna). And in the first 29 issues of the Boletín del Cuerpo de Ingenieros de Minas del Perú (Bulletin of the Corps of Mining Engineers of Peru), published between 1902 and 1905, articles reported on mineral resources and/or mining operations in 13 departments (Ancash, Ayacucho, Cajamarca, Huancavelica, Huánuco, Ica, Junín, La Libertad, Lima, Moquegua, Piura, Puno, and Tacna).

Figure 1.

Historical geographies of mineral resource science in Peru.

The geography of railway planning and construction also suggests that a diversity of resource-producing subnational regions were considered apt for incorporation into the modern transportation network being envisioned by late-nineteenth-century railroad promoters. Along with the Mollendo-Arequipa-Puno and Chimbote-Recuay lines, especially important was the railway, begun in 1870, that would link Lima and the port of Callao to the town of La Oroya and, eventually, to the long-established mining region of Cerro de Pasco in the central highlands (Stewart, 2000). In addition, prior to 1876, when Peru’s early wave of railroad building was suspended, lines were initiated from coastal ports including Paita, Pacasmayo, Salaverry, and Pisco, all of which had routes directed toward different regions in Peru’s highlands (Contreras, 2010; Stewart, 2000). As Contreras (2010) notes, the routes of these planned railways (Figure 2) suggest that they were designed not necessarily to link largely disarticulated locales within the national territory but to connect regions of agricultural and mineral production with ports through which these products could be exported (see also Contreras and Cueto, 2008). This initial groundswell of railway planning and construction in the late 1860s and early 1870s can thus be understood as an effort to plug resource-producing hinterland areas, including existing or future mineral-producing areas in the Andes, into an expanding late-nineteenth-century global economy. Nonetheless, plans were also made for two longitudinal lines, one along the Peruvian coast and the other along the eastern edge of the Andes, that were more clearly envisioned as facilitating national integration, in contrast to the international integration promoted by the “extractivist” lines linking ports with Andean regions (Contreras, 2010).

Figure 2.

Rail lines and mining areas in early-twentieth-century Peru (compiled from Costa y Laurent, 1908; Kemp Heiland, 2002; Ministerio de Fomento, 1907).

If late-nineteenth-century promoters of resource science and railroad construction thus envisioned these activities as spurring the expansion of mining and other forms of resource development across various subnational regions, to what extent was this objective achieved? To begin to answer this question, data from a number of sources indeed indicate that Peruvian mining experienced a period of growth beginning in the later 1800s. This expansion is demonstrated by the increase in number of pertenencias mineras (mining properties) occurring during the decades spanning the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.⁵ Following the passage of the 1877 mining reform law, the Peruvian state began to keep records of mining properties as part of its mining registry (Contreras, 1998). According to these records, the number of properties rose from 1,704 to 15,395—a ninefold increase—between the second semester of 1887 and the second semester of 1907.⁶ Though official statistics on mine production were not kept until the early twentieth century, scholars have drawn on alternative sources to reconstruct production figures for prior periods. Contreras (1998) provides annual production data, averaged over five- or ten-year periods, for silver, the primary mining product in nineteenth-century Peru, showing that after a decline from an average of 70 tons a year in 1871–1875 to 58 tons in 1876–1880, production rose steadily to 290 tons in 1910–1914. As Rosemary Thorp and Geoffrey Bertram (1978: 74) document, the expansion of silver production in the late nineteenth century coincided with a geographical expansion of mining activities: while the central-highland region of Cerro de Pasco had been Peru’s primary source of silver throughout much of the nineteenth century, an increase in silver mining occurred in various other subnational regions after 1870:

Although Peruvian silver production did not rise above the level of the mid-nineteenth century until the 1890s, the total concealed a steady shift after 1870, away from the declining mines of Cerro de Pasco towards the expanding silver-mining centres, both in the central Sierra (Casapalca, Morococha, Yauli) and elsewhere (Quiruvilca, Hualgayoc, Ancash, Castrovirreyna, Cailloma). By the mid-1890s production was booming, with most of the expansion coming from this latter group of mining centres.

This geographical diversification suggests that the goals of late-nineteenth-century Peruvian elites were being achieved.

Significantly, however, while overall silver output grew during the first decade of the twentieth century, production from dedicated silver mines declined. As market conditions for silver deteriorated (reflected in a downward trend in silver prices that had begun in the early 1890s), profits from silver mining dropped and silver increasingly became a by-product of copper production (Thorp and Bertram, 1978). Indeed, the last years of the nineteenth century saw a broad transition in Peruvian mining toward copper (Deustua, 2000; Thorp and Bertram, 1978). The importance of copper was consolidated with the entrance in 1901 of the New York–based Cerro de Pasco Mining Company (later, the Cerro de Pasco Corporation—CPC), which soon monopolized mining properties in the Cerro de Pasco region. In subsequent decades, the CPC established Peru’s first fully industrial mining complex and in general came to dominate lifeworlds in the central highlands. To service its network of copper-lead-zinc mines, the company built infrastructure (hydroelectric plants, mining camps, railways, roads, smelters) and purchased agricultural lands and livestock operations (DeWind, 1987; Dore, 2000). In the early 1920s the CPC became one Peru’s largest landowners when it bought more than 1,000 square miles of hacienda and community-owned lands that had been affected by toxic emissions from the company’s smelter at La Oroya (DeWind, 1987; Li, 2015).

The entrance of the CPC and other foreign companies such as Northern Peru Mining constituted a denationalization of Peruvian mining as national capital was displaced and foreign firms became increasingly responsible for mineral production and exports (Contreras and Cueto, 2008; Thorp and Bertram, 1978). Crucially, as Thorp and Bertram (1978) point out, following the geographical diversification of mining that had occurred in the late 1800s, this denationalization coincided with a (re)concentration of mining activities in the central highlands (Table 1). As evidence of this, while a number of departments saw increases in registered mining properties across these years, in absolute terms the growth of properties in Junín far outstripped that of other departments.

Table 1

Growth of Registered Mining Properties by Department, 1887–1907

	1887	1899	1905	1907	Absolute Growth
Piura	47	153	468	1,728	1,681
Lambayeque	0	0	10	0	0
Libertad	63	197	180	258	195
Cajamarca	133	225	171	242	109
Ancash	376	513	1,141	1,512	1,136
Huánuco	21	43	233	235	214
Junín	641	1,497	4,152	5,955	5,314
Lima	137	227	745	1,115	978
Ica	10	16	84	373	363
Huancavelica	74	102	154	334	260
Ayacucho	0	27	113	46	46
Apurímac	20	41	84	113	93
Arequipa	127	317	347	795	668
Cuzco	0	90	172	733	733
Puno	55	618	767	1,783	1,728
Moquegua	0	0	19	143	143
Tacna	0	2	0	30	30
Total	1,704	4,068	8,840	15,395

Sources: Ministerio de Hacienda, 1887; Ministerio de Fomento, 1899, 1905, 1907. Data for second semester of each year.

A closer look at Junín’s two closest competitor-departments in 1907, Piura and Puno, highlights the importance of the central highlands to Peru’s early-twentieth-century mining economy. Piura, on the northern coast, was at this time a site of expanding oil (rather than mineral) development (see Thorp and Bertram, 1978). In Puno, in the Southeast, the previous half-century had seen growing interest in the department’s gold fields, especially those of the remote provinces of Sandia and Carabaya (see, e.g., Raimondi, 2004). In 1907 about 55 percent of Puno’s 1,783 registered mining properties were located in these two provinces. This area, however, remained relatively peripheral to Peru’s overall mining economy and never saw the levels of capital investment or techno-organizational development witnessed in Cerro de Pasco and the central highlands during the twentieth century.

In sum, the geography of capitalist mining that emerged in Peru during the first decades of the twentieth century did not neatly coincide with the nationalist development imaginaries of late-nineteenth-century Peruvian political and scientific elites. While state-sponsored resource science during the late-nineteenth century aimed to identify, characterize, and circulate knowledge regarding resource endowments across an array of subnational regions, and railroads were planned to integrate various Andean hinterland areas, the large-scale mineral development that occurred during the first decades of the twentieth century was (drawing again on Ferguson’s language) “selectively territorialized” in the central highlands of Junín. The result of these investment dynamics was an uneven, spatially concentrated pattern of mineral development and the selective linking of particular subnational regions to the early-twentieth-century global economy.

Conclusion

This overview of mining promotion and development in Peru during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries suggests that tensions identified by writers such as Bridge and Ferguson—tensions between efforts to mobilize subsurface resource endowments in the service of national development and the tendency for extractive economies to exhibit an uneven and discontinuous spatiality—have a long history. For the case of Peru, more research and analysis are required to understand the factors (economic, environmental, infrastructural, political, social, technological) that have historically interacted to generate these uneven spatial patterns of mineral investment and development, as well as to assess the long-term socioeconomic and environmental implications of these patterns. It is, nonetheless, possible to conclude from the evidence presented here that efforts to comprehend and assess the historical relations between extraction and development—especially national development as it has traditionally been imagined and promoted—would do well to maintain an analytical focus on the “peculiar spatialities” (Bridge, 2010: 46) of subsurface resource exploitation.

Such a focus is also important for our understanding of world environmental history and the role of global resource frontiers therein. As noted above, an important branch of social-science research has in recent decades adopted a world-historical perspective to analyze the integration of far-flung societies and ecologies into an expanding global economy as sites of natural resource extraction (Bunker, 1985; Bunker and Ciccantell, 2005; Hornborg, McNeill, and Martinez-Alier, 2007; J. W. Moore, 2003). This work has drawn needed attention to the uneven global-scale distribution of the social and ecological costs and benefits of international resource economies. What the historical geography of Peruvian mining points to, however, is the importance of incorporating an analysis of the spatial and temporal unevenness of extractive activities within global commodity frontiers. It was not Peru as a whole that became increasingly integrated into the global economy in the early twentieth century but particular peoples, places, and ecologies within the country.

These selective patterns of global integration have had significant implications for Peru’s social and environmental history. The industrial mining complex that was established in Peru’s central highlands during the first half of the twentieth century had a complex and dramatic set of socio-ecological implications for that region (see, e.g., Long and Roberts, 1984). La Oroya, which emerged as a major metallurgy center in the 1920s, provides evidence of the ongoing legacies of these mineral production activities. After nearly a century of processing minerals extracted throughout the central highlands, La Oroya was named by the Blacksmith Institute (2007) as one of the 10 most polluted places in the world. The extent of this pollution was evidenced by a study that found that 99 percent of children in La Oroya had blood lead levels exceeding the World Health Organization’s recommended limits (Li, 2015).

In contrast, other subnational regions were spared the costs of large-scale early industrial mining. This is the case of Ancash. Despite efforts in the late nineteenth century by people like Antonio Raimondi to promote the department as a ready-to-be-exploited mining frontier, major foreign investment largely bypassed Ancash’s mineralized hills until the late twentieth century. While by no means environmentally benign, the small- and medium-scale mining that was found in Ancash during most of the twentieth century involved forms of socioeconomic and environmental transformation distinct from those found in the central highlands. By the 1990s, when major foreign investment arrived in Ancash, the global mining industry had shifted to a new set of techno-organizational strategies, such as open-pit and heap-leaching technologies. These have entailed a distinct form of “metabolizing” nature with such socio-environmental ramifications as an increase in the spatial footprint of operations and a shift to a more skilled labor force (Gil, 2009; Himley, 2013; 2014b). Area populations often experience these characteristics of “modern” large-scale mining as negative (e.g., due to impacts on agro-pastoral activities) and exclusionary (e.g., as a result of limited employment opportunities). At the same time, recent decades have seen the expansion of corporate social responsibility programs and the rise of the sustainability paradigm in industry discourse and practice. There is much to critique in this shift to corporate-centered governance mechanisms, among other things their tendency to prioritize profit over social need (Himley, 2013). Nonetheless, there is no doubt that initiatives such as firm-led rural development programs and industry-funded participatory environmental monitoring have led mining corporations to become entangled with people and ecologies in their areas of operation in ways that were unheard of a century ago (Gil, 2009; Himley, 2016; Li, 2015).

Attention to the long-run spatial and temporal unevenness of mineral investment and development in Andean Peru thus serves to shed light on the complex and geographically variegated social and environmental history of this resource-producing region. For scholarship in world environmental history, an approach that traces the selective territorialization of resource investment and development over time within such global commodity frontiers promises to bring geographical nuance to research into the political-ecological dimensions of capitalist development and underdevelopment.

Consideration of the uneven character of extraction’s historical geography also promises insights into contemporary resource politics in Peru. For one, it raises qualifiers to the popular claim among mining advocates that Peru is, at root, a mining country. There is no doubt that, as is the case for much of Latin America, the social and economic history of Peru “could be read as a long engagement with extraction” (Bebbington, 2009: 14). Nonetheless, among Peruvians, historical experiences with mining have differed markedly not only across lines of social difference (class, ethnicity, gender, etc.) but also across national space. One result of the territorially selective nature of prior rounds of mineral investment and development is that their social and environmental legacies are experienced unevenly in the present. And it is this variegated landscape of mining legacies that today’s mining firms and their backers in the Peruvian state encounter in their ongoing efforts to unearth wealth from the country’s subsoil. In this context, further attention to the way the spatial differentiation of mining’s historical legacies shapes the diverse actions, perceptions, and expectations of people affected by present-day mineral development activities holds the potential to deepen understandings of contemporary Peruvian resource politics.

Footnotes

Notes

Matthew Himley is an associate professor of geography in the Department of Geography, Geology, and the Environment at Illinois State University. Niki Fabricant and two reviewers provided helpful commentary on earlier drafts of this paper, as did Dave Malone, Tom Perreault, R. J. Rowley, and Mike Sublett.

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