Abstract
Biofuels development has assumed an important role in integrating Indigenous peoples and other marginalized populations in the production of biofuels for global consumption. By combining the theories of commoditization and the environmental sociology of networks and flows, the author analyzed emerging trends and possible changes in institutions and behaviors brought about by the introduction of biofuels as a development option on ancestral lands. Using the Indonesian oil palm and the Philippine Jatropha experiences, the author argues that although there are efforts to integrate smallholder systems to the global integrated biofuels network, the effects of commoditization continue to undermine the more sustainable, less commoditized agricultural practices of Indigenous peoples. Indigenous peoples and their traditional agricultural practices are at risk of being either phased out from or eventually transformed by the global integrated biofuels network to accommodate large-scale, consolidated biofuel plantation systems. However, there are also indications that persistent criticisms of and enduring reforms in the global integrated biofuels network challenge the future of highly commoditized biofuels. This suggests that the coevolutionary trajectory of both highly commoditized biofuels and noncommoditized Indigenous agricultural practices remains uncertain.
Keywords
Introduction
At the turn of the century, biofuels 1 became one of the most discussed and debated proposed solutions to global climate change and the unsustainable production and use of nonrenewable energy sources. Although there are a plethora of potential alternative energy sources proposed, biofuels have been surmised as an ideal transitional alternative energy primarily because of their strategic role in displacing fossil fuels without drastically changing the present transport-fueling infrastructure for internal combustion engines (International Energy Agency, 2004, 2011; Pahl, 2005, p. 5). Moreover, the technologies entailed in the production of first-generation biofuels are well established (Naik, Goud, Rout, & Dalai, 2010). Indeed, the confluence of politically salient problems (i.e., global climate change and the volatile oil supply and prices) and readily implementable highly commoditized solutions (i.e., biofuel technologies) swiftly propelled biofuels onto the global development agenda.
On the other hand, biofuels have been criticized for compromising food security (Boddiger, 2007; Hurtado, 2009; Rathman, Szklo, & Schaeffer, 2010; Rosegrant, Msangi, Sulser, & Valmonte-Santos, 2006; Tenenbaum, 2008), emitting more greenhouse gases than fossil fuels and generating “carbon debt” (Fargione, Hill, Tilman, Polasky, & Hawthorne, 2008; Searchinger et al., 2008), having low net energy production (Farrell et al., 2006), undermining biodiverse landscapes (Danielsen et al., 2008; Koh & Ghazoul, 2008), displacing local populations through massive land acquisitions (Cotula, Vermeulen, Leonard, & Keeley, 2009; Mendonça, 2009; Vermeulen & Cotula, 2010), and violating workers’ rights (Renner & McKeown, 2010).
One of the emerging concerns is the effect of biofuels development on the well-being of Indigenous peoples. In a report to the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues in 2007, Tauli-Corpuz and Tamang (p. 7) warned that “[e]xpanding plantations for biofuels or energy crops . . . are recreating and worsening the same problems faced by Indigenous peoples with large-scale monocropping, agricultural and tree plantations.” These problems, to name a few, include denial of Indigenous rights to lands and resources, destruction of Indigenous livelihoods and cultures, increased conflict in ancestral domains, and destruction of sustainable resource management systems (pp. 9-10). Already there are reports of connections between biofuels development and negative impacts on Indigenous peoples, as echoed in the recently published report on the State of the World’s Indigenous Peoples (United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 2009). “Indigenous peoples also point to an increase in human rights violations, evictions and conflicts due to expropriation of ancestral lands and forests for . . . biofuel plantations,” as highlighted in the report (p. 117).
According to Smith (2010), the numerous critiques of biofuels have not substantially decelerated biofuels development “as a policy idea or as an investment opportunity.” New private equity investments on biofuels have grown by a factor of 15 between 2004 and 2009, and the sector continues to benefit from private and government research and development funding (United Nations Environment Programme & New Energy Finance, 2010). Meanwhile, at the national level, governments around the world develop and adopt biofuel policies by mandating fuel blend targets, tax exemptions, and subsidies. Recent policies are the European Union’s new mandate for a minimum of 10% in biofuels blending (EU Directive 2009/28/EC in 2009), Columbia’s target for ethanol flexi-fuel technology (Decree 1135 in 2009), and India’s National Policy on Biofuels in 2008 (Sorda, Banse, & Kemfert, 2010). At a global level, biofuels development forms a complex assemblage that Mol (2007) refers to as the global integrated biofuels network (GIBN). The GIBN is characterized by increased transboundary flows of biofuels, homogenization of standards, and predictable patterns of biofuel exchange, wherein production, trade, consumption, and governance of biofuels lie beyond the nation-state. Both levels of biofuels development result in the marginalization of local populations and the strengthening of the role of large companies and conglomerates (pp. 303-306).
There have been recent efforts to promote smallholder biofuels systems in order to ensure that biofuels development does not marginalize local populations. Ejigu (2008), for instance, asserts that small-scale biofuel projects can provide enormous benefits to local populations, while ensuring sustainable management of natural resources and the reduction of impacts on food production. However, in recognition that smallholder biofuel systems need investments coming from the private sector, it is proposed that smallholder farmers, including Indigenous peoples, should be integrated with the GIBN through partnerships and cooperative management regimes (Dubois, 2008). In order to achieve this, there is a need to strike a balance between “large-scale industry development with small-scale local production and use” (United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 2007, p. 35). Many scholars remain skeptical of the promise of integrating smallholder biofuels systems into the GIBN, as evidenced by the growing alliances involving powerful entities from the oil and agricultural sectors (e.g., Monsanto, Cargill, and the Royal Dutch Shell) that have been associated with operations undermining marginalized populations (Borras, McMichael, & Scoones, 2010; Daugvergne & Neville, 2010; McMichael, 2010; White & Dasgupta, 2010).
In this article, I analyze the evolution of biofuels development, particularly in relation to Indigenous peoples, using the theoretical lens of commoditization and the environmental sociology of networks and flows. I argue that the development model preferred by the GIBN will continue to assert selection pressures on Indigenous agricultural practices. However, persistent criticisms of the effects of commoditizing biofuels and the emerging efforts at institutional reforms will also affect biofuels development. This tension between the pressure to commoditize and the pressure to protect Indigenous culture and livelihoods adds complexity to our understanding of how commoditization processes affect both biofuels development and Indigenous communities.
In the next section, I will discuss my theoretical approach by summarizing the literature on commoditization and the environmental sociology of networks and flows. I will also synthesize how these two areas of literature converge. This will be followed by a discussion of the traits of the highly commoditized biofuels and the less commoditized agricultural practices of Indigenous peoples. In the section preceding the conclusion, I will present two case studies of biofuels development in ancestral domains in Indonesia and the Philippines to illustrate how the development model promoted by the GIBN and consistent with its interests threatens to undermine Indigenous agricultural practices in precisely the way predicted by commoditization theory. Moreover, I will also discuss the emerging trends in the coevolution of biofuels development in the tropics using a combined framework of the theory of commoditization and the environmental sociology of networks and flows. I conclude that the processes of commoditization in biofuels development and the efforts to reform the GIBN underscore the uncertainties in the future of both highly commoditized biofuels and noncommoditized Indigenous agricultural practices. This underscores the need to further the research on coevolutionary trends in biofuels development.
Commoditization and Environmental Flows
A number of new analytical approaches, such as ecological and biophysical economics, resilience theory, some forms of political ecology, and others, encourage the analysis of complex human and ecological systems, particularly in terms of how society and environment coevolve, each in the context of the other. Holling (1986), for example, describes how social and economic conditions, management institutions, and biophysical environments coevolve with each other, particularly in the context of human transformation of ecosystems. 2 Norgaard (1994) proposes a framework to understanding coevolutionary processes involving the subsystems of values, organizations, technologies, environments, and knowledge. He argues that instead of linear processes having exogenous inputs, subsystems are “symmetrically related to everything else” and that the nature and relationships of subsystems can change over time (p. 35). Building on this conceptual framework, Manno (2000) introduces an analysis of commoditization that endeavors to explain how coevolutionary processes have taken modern societies to unsustainable levels of production and consumption of goods and services.
Manno (2000) defines commoditization as
the continuous pressure to transform as much of the necessities and pleasures of life as possible into commercial commodities. Those things that are difficult to commercialize are systematically denied the kind of research and development attention that goes into commodities. (p. 13)
Commoditization is a phenomenon through which the relations of commercial exchange that aggregate into the economy of goods and services are overdeveloped in comparison with the relations of community and ecosystem that are undermined (Manno, 2010). In an evolutionary perspective, commoditization becomes a form of selection pressure that “winnows out” goods and services that are difficult to commoditize from a world increasingly dominated by market values and logic (Manno, 2010, p. 165). This then creates a condition in which development exacerbates the negative social outcomes experienced by the already oppressed and marginalized populations, such as women, workers, and Indigenous peoples. Central to the analysis of commoditization are the attributes and traits of what Manno (2000) refers to as high and low commodity potential (i.e., the potential of goods and services to function as a commodity in a system of exchange). Goods and services with high commodity potential (HCP) have traits such as excludability, high mobility and transferability, universality, energy intensity, and high efficiency. On the other hand, those with low commodity potential (LCP) are, among others, openly accessible, context dependent, more complex and unpredictable, and systems oriented. Evolution occurs when the dominant market logic selects for and develops goods and services that have HCP traits over those with LCP traits.
Commoditization is particularly linked to the processes of economic globalization, as HCP traits are exaggerated by the burgeoning extensity, intensity, velocity, and impacts of investments, capital, financial services, and trade of raw materials and manufactured goods. While globalization has the propensity to accelerate the processes of commoditization, the governance of socioecological systems has also become even more complex with the emergence of new actors that challenge dominant centers of power. The dynamics of environmental governance vis-à-vis economic globalization closely relate to the processes of commoditization. For instance, the market logic can be compelled to recognize and accommodate LCP goods and services in order to satisfy the new demands of consumers and civil society for more sustainable alternatives. There is then an opportunity to link the theory of commoditization with the emerging scholarship on globalization and environmental governance—the environmental sociology of networks and flows.
In Governing Environmental Flows, Spaargaren, Mol, and Buttel (2006) call for the greater understanding of the interplay between environmental issues, environmental governance, and globalization. These authors have developed a conceptual framework that deals with issues of global environmental governance in the context of hybrid arrangements and hybrid treatment of social and material entities (i.e., human–material flows relationships). The concept of hybridization in environmental governance is central to the authors’ analytical framework, which posits that the lines between the traditional roles and responsibilities played by various actors (i.e., the state, the market, and civil society) are becoming indistinct (Spaargaren, Mol, & Bruyninckx, 2006). Nonstate actors begin to behave like state actors and vice versa, and the interdependence between these actors is becoming ever more pronounced. For example, civil society actors increasingly work within government systems to fill the gaps left open by the latter. Many nongovernment organizations (NGOs; e.g., the World Wildlife Fund) too are now acting like multinational companies and creating arrangements that facilitate “direct negotiations between NGOs and market actors” (p. 12). In this conceptual framework, these hybrid governance systems are also influenced by the dynamics of human–material flows relations.
The environmental sociology of networks and flows draws on some of the well-established theories of globalization, particularly Castells’s (2000) “network society” and Urry’s (2003) “global complexity.” Castells’s concept of the network society illustrates the tensions formed between the space of flows (the domain of networks, capital, information, and business alliances) and the space of places (e.g., domain of local communities), where the latter can become a domain of resistance against the flows-dominated economy. These tensions are formed when the power elites of the space of flows advance their interests at the expense of the vast majority of marginalized populations living in the spaces of places. Moreover, Castells maintains that the network society tends to (a) ignore groups (particularly those at the space of places) that are increasingly irrelevant to the network’s objectives of concentrating flows toward increasing productivity and (b) phase out groups that gradually cease to perform relevant functions toward achieving network goals. Building on Castells’ theories, Urry (2003) frames the network society as a complex system having emergent properties (e.g., intricacy and diversity of organizational arrangements and processes at multiple levels) brought about by globalization. Using the concept of “attractors” (or feedback loops in systems theory), Urry develops the concept of the glocalization attractor to refer to “parallel, irreversible and mutually interdependent processes by which globalization-deepens-localization-deepens-globalization” (p. 84). These feedback loops cause large flows of resources to create symbiotic relationships between the global and the local, in which new forms of identities, institutions and social practices evolve.
It is apparent how the “winnowing out” of LCP goods and services by commoditization pressures relates closely to Castells’s (2000) notion of the phasing out (or ignoring) of place-defined groups. Both theories describe a preferential allocation of resources that concentrates energy and material flows into dominant transnational and global pathways. By definition, those goods and services with a high potential to function as commodities can perform as proper nodes in Castells’s networks. Those goods and services with LCP are invariably “phased out” in Castells’s conceptualization because they are systematically starved of the resources for their development, to use Manno’s (2000, 2010) concept. If the purpose of a group of people and their livelihood practices is to produce LCP goods and services, then Castells’s network society will eventually phase out this group. Urry’s (2003) glocalization attractor, on the other hand, frames the evolution of HCP goods and services in the context of changes in identities, institutions, and social behaviors that support these commodities. Those groups that persist in producing and maintaining LCP goods and services may be winnowed out through the closure of livelihood and development opportunities, or on the other hand, they can glocalize by commoditizing their local identity and making it available as a cultural or market product available to anyone anywhere. Through these institutional and behavioral changes, communities associated with LCP lifeways, most significantly Indigenous communities, are pressured by the need for survival to adopt a market logic toward their own culture, way of life, and self-determination. However, glocalized interdependencies may also generate changes not just in the space of places but also in the space of flows. As we will see in the Indonesian case study below, NGOs represented by local populations that are affected by oil palm production become important players in the development of global standards for sustainable palm oil. The institutional changes that accompany changes in the space of flows may then pave the way for the hybrid governance systems described by Spaargaren, Mol, and Bruyninckx (2006).
In this analysis of the coevolutionary processes of biofuels development, the integration of theories of commoditization and the environmental sociology of networks and flows will help us explore whether the efforts to integrate Indigenous communities to the GIBN will necessarily undermine Indigenous and other place-based approaches to biofuels or whether transformations in institutions and practices in both the GIBN and the Indigenous communities can coevolve toward mutually beneficial and sustainable forms of biofuels production.
Commoditized Product, Noncommoditized Production
The relations between the GIBN (space of flows) and ancestral domains (space of places) underscore interactions between the highly commoditized biofuels production and the less commoditized agricultural practices of Indigenous peoples. In Table 1, I compare the traits of biofuels produced for the globalized market with traditional smallholder agriculture using Manno’s (2000) concept of commodity potential.
Summary of Traits of Globalized Biofuels and Indigenous Agriculture
High Commodity Potential of Globalized Biofuels
Biofuels as produced in the GIBN demonstrate many, if not all, of the traits of HCP goods discussed by Manno (2000). Here I will discuss six attributes. First, biofuel products, just like their fossil fuel counterparts, are appropriable due to the relative ease of assigning ownership and prices over these goods. Ownership of production, particularly pertaining to large-scale plantations and conversion facilities, is often concentrated in new industrial alliances and public-private partnerships between oil, automotive, food, and biotechnology private companies and state agencies. As Daugverne and Neville (2010) posit, these powerful actors that have present control over their own respective industries are poised to become the dominant owners of the means of biofuels production.
Second, while production is controlled by powerful entities, particularly private firms and investors, consumption is directed to individuals that create the growing consumer demand for sustainable alternatives to fossil fuels. The complexity and the distance involved in the biofuels production chain trigger a breakdown in the relationship between individual consumers and the place of production or between consumers and producers. This relates to Marx’s concept of metabolic rift, which describes the separation of urban life (source of individual consumer demand for agricultural produce) from rural life (place of production subjected to soil nutrient erosion) in the process of industrialization of agriculture (Foster, 1999; Moore, 2000).
Third, the degree of mobility and transportability of biofuels is high, given the burgeoning trade that is currently occurring in the GIBN. The mobility of products intensifies as governments of biofuel-producing countries advocate the eradication of protective barriers in the biofuels trade (Mol, 2010, p. 71). Bioethanol exported from Brazil, for instance, increased dramatically from no more than 500 million liters in 2000 to greater than 3,000 million liters in 2006, in response to biofuel demand. In 2006, the United States and the European Union imported as much as 50% and 15% of the Brazilian bioethanol exports, respectively (Heinimö & Junginger, 2009). Closely related is the increased mobility of capital that drives biofuels development, primarily in developing countries. Global investments in sustainable energy has more than doubled from 2004 to 2006, with biofuels attracting at least a quarter of the investments, and are expected to grow further in the future (United Nations Environment Programme & New Energy Finance, 2007).
Fourth, the intensification of trade of biofuels necessitates the creation of standards and specifications related to biofuel quality. Universality is of particular importance in the GIBN, as manufactured biofuels need to meet stringent standards for these goods to be acceptable to end users. Standardization of biofuel is needed as a guarantee of safety and predictability of not just the fuel itself but also the vehicles and engines that are dependent on its use. The main concern is the proliferation of substandard biofuels entering the market, which may affect the performance and durability of engines (Fernando, Karra, Hernandez, & Jha, 2007). Moreover, standardization takes place in the management and production processes in order to keep a stable flow of biofuels, feedstock, and revenues in the system. This process of standard setting leads to a significant decline in the diversity of biofuel products and producers, and the processes of commoditization “drives economic development to a single or few huge markets” (Manno, 2000, p. 40), as described above. More recently, a plethora of certification and standard-setting schemes (e.g., the Roundtable on Sustainable Biofuels) are also being developed to ensure the social and environmental sustainability of biofuels (Scarlat & Dallemand, 2008). However, some experts believe that the growing number of schemes creates complexity and confusion, which limit the participation of various stakeholders. It is then proposed that a “global generic standard” be established to circumvent the problems posed by diverse standards (Kaphengst, Ma, & Schlegel, 2009, p. S100).
Fifth, biofuels production is energy intensive because of its close association with industrial agriculture. Many inputs and processes employed in the production of biofuels feedstock, particularly fertilization and mechanization, are dependent on the highly commoditized petroleum. In many cases, energy is increasingly invested in the land to compensate for the eroding natural fertility of the soil brought about by intensified agricultural production. Moreover, there is also substantial energy needed in the processing of feedstock into the final biofuel product and its distribution to end users. Thus, when analyzed in a net energy perspective, the energy used to bring the biofuel to the individual end consumers may actually be more than the actual energy content of the biofuel itself. For example, Farrell et al. (2006) have illustrated that the fossil fuels required in tilling, fertilization, and other mechanized operations make corn ethanol in the United States a severely energy-inefficient source of energy. While there are other studies that illustrate a more positive net energy assessment for biofuels (e.g., Hill, Nelson, Tilman, Polasky, & Tiffany, 2006; Pradhan, Shrestha, Van Gerpen, & Duffield, 2008), the complexity of the processes involved in bringing biofuel products to the GIBN underscores the energy-intensiveness of biofuels development.
Low Commodity Potential of Indigenous Agriculture
The Indigenous practices of food production and acquisition, through hunting and gathering, fishing, home gardening, and shifting cultivation, 3 tend to have LCP. Shifting cultivation (or swidden agriculture), in particular, has coevolved with local ecosystems over hundreds or even thousands of years. It is a resource management strategy in which small agricultural fields are shifted in order to take advantage of the energy and nutrient capital of future sites (McGrath, 1987). The production of perennial and short-lived crops is carried out in short periods (1-3 years) and alternated with longer fallow periods (4-60 years) to allow for nutrient regeneration of the soil. Moreover, there is an almost exclusive use of human energy in the management of land and vegetation (Watters, 1971, as cited in Finegan & Nasi, 2004). Hence, production of crops relies less on fossil fuels, due to the absence of mechanization and fossil fuel–based inputs, particularly fertilizers. Consequently, the reliance on human labor and Indigenous inputs circumvents the need for capital.
Shifting cultivation has been practiced since as early as 10,000 bc, and it continues to prevail in the tropics of Africa, Asia, and Latin America (Thrupp et al., 1997, pp. 1-2). Rapid deforestation in these tropical regions, however, has been blamed on shifting cultivation (Cleaver & Scheiber, 1993; Myers, 1992), ultimately resulting in antagonistic policies and programs that caused the displacement of many local populations (Thrupp et al., 1997). The work of Conklin (1954) in the Philippines began a series of studies (e.g., De Foresta & Michon, 1997; Ickowitz, 2006) that challenged the perception that the practices of shifting cultivation are primitive, unproductive, and destructive. Many scholars now argue that shifting cultivation, particularly those practices associated with Indigenous peoples, reflects an “intricate balance between product harvest and ecological resilience” (Cairns & Garrity, 1999). Moreover, it is now believed that shifting cultivation plays a significant role in preserving biological diversity, especially when compared to modern intensive agricultural systems (Finegan & Nasi, 2004).
The practices involved in Indigenous shifting cultivation are not standardized, as production methods are based on contextualized individual and community knowledge that has been formed out of inventive self-reliance and experience (Klee, 1980). In fact, as Brookfield and Padoch (1994) posit, “[s]hifting cultivation is not one system but hundreds or thousands of systems” (p. 7). Diversity in shifting cultivation applies to both the crops planted and the practices employed. Studies have shown that swidden fields can have as much as 100 species of crops and wild plants per hectare (Descola, 1993). In Kalimantan, Indonesia, for example, the Kantu people were observed to grow at least 44 varieties of rice, averaging 17 per household (Dove, 1993). This high crop diversity allows traditional cultivators to maximize harvest security, given their limited resources and space and the absence of modern technology (Clawson, 1985). Even in similar microclimatic regions where the types of crops planted are the same, practices regarding crop sequence, crop associations, rotation lengths, fallow management, and burn timing and intensity, among others, can differ as well. In Cameroon, for instance, Ickowitz (2004, cited in Ickowitz, 2006, p. 603) demonstrates the large variability in fallow lengths practiced among the different swidden fields of the same household. This demonstrates the importance of particular micro ecologies and the complexities involved in traditional shifting cultivation practices (Ickowitz, 2006, p. 604).
Traditional Indigenous agriculture often occurs on communally owned land even when use rights may be accorded to certain families of clans based on particular cultural practices. Moreover, the produce generated from Indigenous food production and gathering is not only consumed within individual households but also occasionally shared with immediate community members through reciprocity systems. One notable example is the Batak people in the Philippines, who practice customary interhousehold food sharing in a form of a reciprocity system in order to cope with problems of cyclical or seasonal food scarcity. Households exchange foodstuff (e.g., meat from the forest and produce from the swidden fields) when requested in advance by others in the community who are experiencing caloric deficiency. There are also indirect modes of food sharing, which come in the form of sharing tools, rice fields, rights to collect resin from tapped trees, labor, and information (Cadeliña, 1996). Although produce and collected forest products are also traded with non-Indigenous lowlanders, the extent of the transaction is only within proximate regions.
Biofuels Development in Tropical Ancestral Domains
In understanding the commoditization processes and the evolution of institutions involved in the production of biofuels in ancestral domains, I will discuss two case studies from Southeast Asia. Oil palm production in Indonesia is the most significant boom crop in Southeast Asia that has resulted in massive agrarian transformations (Hall, 2009). It is also one of the most documented cases of biofuels development in the tropics. This particular case provides examples of palpable impacts of first-generation biofuels on the well-being of marginalized populations, particularly Indigenous peoples. Jatropha production in the Philippines, on the other hand, is an emerging program that attempts to take advantage of the renewed images of biofuels as an environmentally and socially sustainable renewable energy source. In contrast to the oil palm development in Indonesia, the Philippine case provides an example of how biofuels development induces subtle impacts on local populations and facilitates incremental commoditization of Indigenous practices.
The Indonesian Oil Palm Experience
The initial reports that sounded the alarm bells regarding the possible impacts of biofuels development on Indigenous peoples (particularly Tauli-Corpuz & Tamang’s report to the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues in 2007) were primarily based on the recurring encroachment of oil palm plantations in ancestral domains in Indonesia and Malaysia. Oil palm (sawit in Bahasa Indonesia 4 ) production in Indonesia continues to expand with the upsurge in the global demand for edible oils and biofuels. Land for oil palm production in the country grew rapidly from a mere 120,000 hectares in 1968 to over 5 million hectares in 2004 (Wakker, 2006), with 20 million hectares more earmarked by local governments for future development (Rist, Feintrenie, & Levan, 2010). In addition, the Indonesian national government has planned to expand its palm oil–based biodiesel production capacity from 750 million to 3 billion liters by 2017 (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development & Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 2008). Oil palm is considered to be the most efficient feedstock for biodiesel production in terms of yield per hectare (Worldwatch Institute, 2007), thus further increasing interest from investors in expanding oil palm production in Indonesia. Currently, the country is the world’s largest producer of oil palm (Santosa, 2008) and is also poised to become the largest producer of biodiesel in the world (McCarthy, 2010).
Ownership of oil palm plantations has also drastically transformed from predominantly state-run schemes in the 1970s and 1980s to mostly private sector holdings at present, through the financial assistance of the European Community and the Asian Development Bank (“Banking on Disaster,” 1986). Many of the previous state-owned enterprises have been privatized and new private firms established. New private entities are mostly funded by international investments or are functioning as subsidiaries of foreign corporations. For instance, in 2002, there were already 50 oil palm–related Malaysian companies operating in Indonesia (Colchester et al., 2006).
In addition to private sector ownership, oil palm development has predominantly adopted a large-scale, monoculture type of production model. Colchester (2011) argues that the characteristics of oil palm itself impel the adoption of this production model. Oil palm is a water-demanding crop that draws nutrients from as far as 15 meters away, which suggests that other plants intercropped would face intense competition. In spite of the possibility to intercrop some shade-tolerant and low-nutrient-requiring plants, especially if the distances between the oil palm crops are widened, companies would still find monoculture production of oil palm to be more economically attractive (Corley & Tinker, 2003). The fresh oil palm fruits need to be transported to mills within 48 hours of harvest in order to maintain the product’s highest quality. Hence, access to transportation and roads is paramount in the economic viability of the palm oil production (Koh, Levang, & Ghazoul, 2009). Moreover, mills require large investments and at least 4,000 hectares of oil palm to maintain a steady production of oil (Colchester, 2011).
According to McCarthy (2010), the past expansion of oil palm markets in Indonesia was associated with “patterns of inclusion/exclusion and adverse incorporation, with the commodification and sale of village common . . . resulting in an irreversible shift in the ownership of agricultural assets away from the poor” (p. 845). These patterns have been evident among the Indigenous populations of Indonesia, particularly the Dayak people in Kalimantan. In the process of developing oil palm in Kalimantan, Indigenous households were compelled (or coerced) to transfer lands to oil palm companies. In exchange, these households will receive payments and/or smaller parcels of land for oil palm plantation, agriculture, and settlement. There have been numerous cases in which households did not receive in full (and at times not even a portion of) the agreed parcel of land from the companies. There were also reports of deliberate deception in convincing Indigenous peoples to partake in the oil palm program, by overemphasizing opportunities to become “rich” in the process, thus resulting in the participation of almost all members of Indigenous communities (Colchester et al., 2006). For example, as asserted by one of the company representatives:
You could earn enough money from one oil palm tree to buy a cow, by owning two oil palm trees you could send your children to university, so why don’t you transfer the ownership of your land to the company for oil palm plantation project! (Colchester et al., p. 108)
Even if some companies do not deliberately deceive the Dayak people, conflicts over land transfers and claims are also precipitated because of misunderstandings of the concept of land rights and ownership. There is a fundamental difference in terms of how the Dayak people and the oil palm companies understand the nature of land transactions. In the perspective of the companies, land relinquishment by the Indigenous peoples is a conventional land transfer based on the market logic, in which payments represent transfer of rights to own the land. However, the Dayak people perceive the transaction not as selling the land. They consider the payments they received as derasah, which is payment for their ancestor’s efforts in opening the forest to create new agricultural fields. According to customary rights, the money given to peoples was only to transfer use rights over the lands but not necessarily a transfer of ownership rights to the company (Colchester et al., 2006). The customary rights practiced by the Dayak people are not based on individual titling but instead on communal ownership accompanied by a traditional form of land rights allocation. Rights to use the land are based on evidence of clearance and cultivation of land or from the memories of village elders and other respected members of the community. Moreover, regulations on the transfer and allocation of land rights are passed down orally from one generation to another (Colchester et al., 2006).
The erosion of cultural traditions has also accompanied the patterns of displacement and dispossession experienced by the Dayak people. In the process of massive oil palm development in the region, extensive areas of forests have been cleared, bringing about loss of biodiversity and disruption of forest ecosystem functions. This has severely affected the quality and diversity of the Dayak people’s livelihoods. Subsistence economies were then replaced by cash-based household economies due to the loss of forestlands (Colchester et al., 2006). This has resulted in a shift from swidden and forest-harvesting practices to livelihood systems in which Indigenous peoples focus on supplying the market with commoditized goods, while at the same time purchasing commodities and services to meet their daily needs (Cramb et al., 2009). The Dayak people have become overly dependent on the oil palm plantations, which eventually has weakened their ability to maintain control of their own lives. At times they are incapable of meeting their minimum daily needs because of the volatile prices of oil palm and the collapse of subsistence economies. Meanwhile, new social inequalities have been created, as traditions of sharing and collective benefit through reciprocity have been lost (Colchester et al., 2006).
In response to the urgent need to address the social and environmental impacts of oil palm production, the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil (RSPO) was established in 2004 to develop and implement global standards for sustainable palm oil production and use, as well as to reform unsustainable oil palm industries. The organization currently has more than 400 members, comprising private industries, investors, and environmental and social NGOs. It requires members to act in accordance with the agreed-on principles and criteria for sustainable palm oil production, specifically through its certification system (RSPO, 2011). In 2009, RSPO prepared a final draft of its Generic Guidance for Scheme Smallholders, which stipulates stringent guidelines on how partner companies should work with smallholders to ensure environmental sustainability and the well-being of local communities (RSPO, 2009).
The Philippine Jatropha Experience
The Jatropha experience in the Philippines is a good case study to demonstrate how biofuels as a commodity is continually transformed to address ongoing issues pertaining to the persistent social and environmental impacts of biofuels. Moreover, Jatropha development has been adopted in the Philippines and in many other countries as an effort to integrate smallholder systems, particularly those of Indigenous communities. This case study is based on a preliminary qualitative field research I conducted in the Philippines from June to July 2010. The field research included in-depth semistructured interviews and observations of six plantation sites on ancestral lands in three provinces. 5
The Philippines has recently embarked on the global biofuels project, with the passing of the Biofuels Act (Republic Act No. 9367) in January 2007. This legislation sets mandates for development and use of biodiesel and bioethanol in the ground transport sector of the country, with a focus on sugarcane and coconuts as primary feedstock. However, a few months after the passing of this legislation, criticisms and debates erupted regarding the propensity of the country’s biofuels program to undermine food security (Montefrio & Sonnenfeld, 2011). One of the solutions to address this problem was the nationwide campaign for Jatropha, a small tree (often referred to as a “wonder crop”) that produces nonedible oilseeds suitable for biodiesel production. Although the country’s Jatropha program was officially launched in mid 2006, before the fuel versus food debate erupted, the government propelled this “wonder crop” in the national biofuels discourse to rehabilitate the deteriorating image of first-generation biofuels. Jatropha is believed to be a resilient crop that can be grown on marginal lands not suitable for food production. Hence, government officials and private companies project and campaign for Jatropha as a sustainable form of biofuels.
With the growing global discourse on smallholder biofuels, many countries viewed Jatropha as an opportunity to share the benefits of the global biofuels circuit with marginalized populations (see Ariza-Montobbio, Lele, Kallis, & Martinez-Alier, 2010, for India; and Hunsberger, 2010, for Kenya). In the Philippines, the Jatropha program targeted both peasant farmers and Indigenous communities, with particular focus on the latter. Philippine government officials claim that bringing Jatropha production to ancestral lands will enhance the well-being of Indigenous peoples and offer opportunities to “reforest denuded” tribal lands. As stated by one senator in a Congressional session, “I think [Jatropha] is a wonderful way to reforest the denuded mountain areas. At the same time, aside from reforestation, we also have a way of being able to [provide] livelihood” (Philippine Senate, 2007). Some of the company managers I interviewed were proud to report the positive impacts they claim Jatropha production has brought to Indigenous peoples, even in the early stages of the program. When asked about examples of positive impacts, one manager of a state-owned company said,
In Malungon, a community 5 kilometers from the road, they do not have electricity and water. Their land is huge, but they do not plant much. They are already lucky if they could eat once a day. They do not have soft income. When we started planting there, the people were already happy. They are now able to eat 3 meals a day. That’s the impact! (Interview, June 21, 2010)
While certain ancestral domains have grasslands that were forested in the past, many existing forested upland regions are still inhabited by Indigenous peoples who continue to practice traditional shifting cultivation. The current Jatropha program in the Philippines has formed an intricate network of national and local government units, state-owned corporation, and local and foreign private investors that partner with some of these Indigenous communities practicing shifting cultivation. Indeed, this approach is notable, given that participating Indigenous communities are allowed to grow Jatropha on their swidden fields together with their subsistence food crops (e.g., cassava, pulses, fruits, and vegetables). These partnerships also allow Indigenous peoples to keep their own land. Provisions that allow for intercropping of Jatropha on swidden fields and the upholding of Indigenous land rights are indications that commoditized goods can potentially be integrated with noncommoditized forms of production. However, there are also indications of potential evolutionary trajectories that suggest a rift between highly commoditized biofuels and the Indigenous agricultural practices that produce LCP subsistence goods.
First, while the partnerships have allowed intercropping and production on swidden fields, there are technical specifications required by the partner companies that may in the long run alter Indigenous shifting cultivation practices. Indigenous communities are required to use standardized hybrid Jatropha seedlings and commercial fertilizers distributed by the partner companies. Commercial fertilizers have been required to ensure good growth and production yields of the Jatropha crops on the swidden fields. Contrary to the vision of growing Jatropha on marginal lands, recent studies are beginning to recognize that favorable economic returns may not be feasible if Jatropha is planted without significant investment on fertilizers and pesticides (Brittaine & Lutaladio, 2010; Luoma, 2009). In the Philippines, input requirements are enforced through contracts, staggered payment schemes, and periodic company evaluations and assessments. For example, the state company I studied did not disburse payments to the Indigenous communities if fertilizers have not been applied as per the agreed work plan.
Dressler and Pulhin (2009) have noted that many Indigenous farmers in Palawan (one of the sites I investigated) are moving away from shifting cultivation to adopt permanent and intensive cash cropping. Some have completely stopped swidden agriculture and have instead planted and grown cash crops (e.g., cacao) on lands once in rotation with diverse vegetative cover. Although it can be argued that permanent agriculture can be managed in a sustainable manner (e.g., in agroforestry systems), a move to intensive agriculture has the propensity to adopt monocropping production that is more reliant on commercial inputs (e.g., fertilizers and pesticides). Notwithstanding the seemingly declining practice of swidden agriculture in Palawan, data from 2001 to 2004 reveal that Indigenous peoples’ reliance on this practice persists. For those able to do so, swidden fields are maintained in order to buffer uncertainties associated with intensive agriculture and other socioeconomic challenges (Dressler & Pulhin, 2009).
Although intercropping is encouraged in the Jatropha partnerships, some Indigenous peoples are beginning to accord more attention to Jatropha relative to other subsistence and livelihood crops on the swidden fields. When asked about plans to intercrop, one Indigenous elder shared, “my wife and I have plans to plant cassava, but we are worried that it will affect the Jatropha. I thought about it . . . do you think it will affect the growth of the Jatropha?” (Interview, June 17, 2010). Although it is too early to know how this will affect practices in the future, there is the risk that the special treatment accorded to Jatropha, through fertilization and suppression of potential competition (i.e., reluctance to intercrop), will further undermine the importance of subsistence crops and natural soil nutrient cycles on ancestral lands.
Second, the perceived negative social constructions of Indigenous values and behavior, and the associated interventions by state and private firm partners, may affect Indigenous practices in the future. Many private and state actors I interviewed have in one way or another referred to Indigenous peoples as indolent, uneducated, stubborn, and incapable of handling independently the demands of the Jatropha program. Both state and private firm actors then conduct trainings and ensure close supervision of their Indigenous partners. For instance, one private firm liaison officer said, “It is really challenging to handle the natives, especially those who do not have . . . [he points to his head]. It is really important to have close supervision.” One of the main challenges, he continued, is the relatively weak capability of Indigenous peoples to handle their household finances. “The natives would spend money quickly . . . if you give them the payment in full, they will use it immediately to buy food,” as shared by the same liaison officer (Interview, July 2, 2010). The interventions employed by the partner companies not only focus on financial management but also on other general concerns surmised to be important for the “human development” of Indigenous peoples. In many cases, partner companies construe these interventions as a form of service to the Indigenous populations they work with. Another private firm manager said,
It’s hard because they do not know how to do budgeting. But we have a project management office where we give seminars. Now, the Indigenous peoples who have undergone training know already. We also have seminars on human development. We teach sanitation, basic education, and how to socialize with other [non-Indigenous] people. That’s what they need. (Interview, June 25, 2010)
These interventions are designed to change the behavior of Indigenous peoples to better fit the requirements of the Jatropha program. Traditionally, Indigenous peoples are inept in matters pertaining to the market logic of product–money exchange. It is still uncertain how these interventions will affect the current behavior of Indigenous peoples, but some scholars suspect that the entrenchment and further dependence on the market economy will erode remaining food-based reciprocity systems and consequently the subsistence base (Cadeliña, 1996; Conelly, 1996).
Third, realizations regarding economic viability are raising questions about the sustainability of partnerships involving traditional shifting cultivation. There are signs that the support from state companies to these partnerships are waning, with delayed payments to smallholder Indigenous communities but increased attention to partnerships able to accommodate large-scale, consolidated plantations. Partner companies are now beginning to question whether the smaller, diffused, and fragmented shifting Jatropha cultivation lands can be financially viable in the long run. However, proponents of the smallholder model in the Philippines continue to argue for the promise that Jatropha can bring to traditional shifting cultivators.
Coevolution of Biofuels in a Globalizing World
The two case studies above illustrate how commoditization theory and the environmental sociology of networks and flows potentially explain the processes of how Indigenous peoples and their traditional agricultural practices are undermined by the GIBN. This is summarized in Table 2 and explained in more detail in this section. The two theories can be combined to a single framework in analyzing selection pressures for goods, services, institutions, and social behaviors in the context of ever-increasing economic globalization. Figure 1 is a modified version of Manno’s (2000) process of commoditization to include the concepts of Castells’s (2000) network society and Urry’s (2003) glocalization attractor.
Summary of Case Studies and Relation to Commoditization and the Environmental Sociology of Networks and Flows

Combined conceptual framework of commoditization and environmental sociology of networks and flows
Based on the two case studies discussed in the previous section, it is apparent that the increasing flows of biofuel raw materials, feedstock, products, inputs, capital, technologies, knowledge, and discourse between the space of flows and space of places facilitate changes in institutions and governance structures. New alliances among states, private industrial entities (oil, automotive, agriculture, and biotechnology), and NGOs in the GIBN have been forged, while sustainability discourses continue to promote the engagement of marginalized populations in the space of places. Civil society groups, particularly environmental NGOs, are increasingly being involved in a myriad ways. For example, Friends of the Earth International (2010) remains skeptical and continues to campaign against Jatropha development, while the World Wildlife Fund (2008) maintains its involvement in the market-based mechanism, RSPO, as an affiliate member. At the local level, NGOs either act to dissuade biofuels development (e.g., Sawit Watch in Indonesia) or become central drivers in its promotion and implementation in local communities (e.g., NGOs in Kenya; see Hunsberger, 2010). What is apparent is that hybridized forms of governance and partnerships (e.g., RSPO and the Jatropha cooperative management schemes in the Philippines) and the clamant censure by skeptics are constantly remaking the image of biofuels in order to justify its role as a transitional alternative energy.
The flows in the GIBN and the associated changes in institutions and governance structures may also be effective in moderating the negative effects of commoditization. The “propoor” and “prowasteland” discourses regarding Jatropha development initiated massive mobilization of Jatropha production in many countries in the tropics, with particular emphasis on the integration of marginalized populations (Ariza-Montobbio et al., 2010). In the case of Jatropha production in the Philippines, the observed effects on the LCP production practices of Indigenous peoples are still subtle; however, early warning signs are emerging. Participating Indigenous peoples are beginning to place more care and attention on the energy crop, potentially undermining opportunities for intercropping. Moreover, negative social constructions of Indigenous peoples and the desire to change their behaviors through training, contract provisions, and direct supervision may eventually erode subsistence economies. This may possibly lead to a glocalization attractor, where the erosion of subsistence economies will heighten the dependence of Indigenous peoples on market transactions in the space of flows, which in turn will further erode subsistence practices. This has become evident in the case study of oil palm production in Indonesia, where the processes of displacement and dispossession of Indigenous peoples were much more aggressive. Although I have not encountered similar cases of blatant land grabs in the Jatropha development in the Philippines, there are now emerging cases in India and sub-Saharan Africa, as reported by international NGOs. Friends of the Earth Europe (2009), for example, reports at least 355 families (comprising the Indigenous Adivasis and the lower caste Dalits) already displaced in just 2 of the 16 districts of the state of Chhattisgarh in India. Hundreds of acres of land cultivated by the Indigenous peoples for generations have been forcibly taken away by the Indian government and private companies for planting Jatropha.
Commoditization acts as a selection pressure effectively phasing out less productive and efficient groups from participating in the GIBN. Based on the Jatropha experience in the Philippines, there are already signs of companies intending to withdraw their support of smallholder Indigenous production systems in favor of large-scale, consolidated plantations. Wilkinson and Herrera (2010) also observed this phenomenon in Brazil. Initially there were two programs with two very distinct models in Brazil: the ethanol program being driven by agribusiness expansion and the biodiesel program supported by a regional development strategy for inclusion of family farms and smallholders. Over time, however, the structural weaknesses in terms of commodity production of smallholder systems became apparent, and eventually, the biodiesel program came to include predominantly large-scale agribusinesses that grow soybean. Castells (2000) interprets this as a form of inequality in which individuals and groups in the space of places are deprived of opportunities from the space of flows. While this may be true in the context of biofuels development, an even greater concern is the systematic disregard for the LCP cultural and sustainability benefits produced by Indigenous forms of agriculture. Coupled with the forces of glocalization, the further expansion of the GIBN will result in the contraction of LCP production systems at the space of places.
The evolution of the sustainable biofuels discourse and the associated institutional changes are very dynamic. In a span of less than a decade, the image of biofuels has been recreated many times to fit the global sustainability discourse, from the direct use of “surplus” food crops (e.g., oil palm) to the development of inedible feedstock (e.g., Jatropha) and more recently the efforts to surmount the technological barriers of next generation biofuels (lignocellulosic ethanol and algae biodiesel). This evolution has been rapid due to globalization, as information, knowledge, and discourse on sustainability diffuse more readily throughout the world. In the interim, institutions and governance structures are intensifying the commoditization pressures on first-generation biofuels through global standard setting and certification systems. As discussed above, biofuels development continues to pose risks of undermining Indigenous peoples. Indeed, an HCP biofuel product will always certainly collide with LCP Indigenous production systems, unless the latter undergo glocalization or are phased out from the GIBN. However, it would also be good to appreciate how institutional reforms add complexity to the commoditization process. Many critics still persistently challenge the capacity of biofuels to address social and environmental problems, and proponents respond by constantly revitalizing the image of biofuels. This, in a way, acts as a selection pressure to phase out biofuels from the development agenda. Would biofuels persevere in the face of burgeoning criticisms? If in the long run biofuels prove to be unsustainable, what new transport energy agenda will a globalized society advocate? What commoditization pressures will this new agenda impose on the space of places? These questions, I believe, can only be answered as the evolution of biofuels development unfolds.
Conclusion
The coevolutionary processes of commoditization are particularly evident in biofuels development on the ancestral lands of the tropics. Although biofuels were introduced in the global development agenda only at the turn of the century, their constantly evolving image has resulted in a complex network of supranational, national, and local actors. Seen through the lens of the environmental sociology of networks and flows, the GIBN has operated as a selection pressure in the institutions and behaviors involved in the space of flows (biofuel trade and consumption) and space of places (biofuels crop production). In these two spaces, there is a stark difference between highly commoditized biofuel products dispersed in the global network and the noncommoditized agricultural practices of Indigenous peoples. As institutions, identities, and behaviors evolve in the space of places, the noncommoditized Indigenous practices contract while the reach of commoditized biofuels expands. However, the environmental sociology of networks and flows underscores the complexity of the commoditization process, as institutions at the space of flows also face selection pressures. While the case studies discussed in this article underscore the commoditization pressures affecting Indigenous populations, potential reform and ongoing criticisms of exploitative and oppressive institutions suggest uncertainties in the evolutionary trajectory of both the highly commoditized biofuels and the noncommoditized Indigenous agricultural practices. It is recommended that further research on the coevolutionary trends in biofuels development be carried out, particularly regarding the possibility of achieving coevolution in institutions and practices in both the GIBN and the Indigenous populations that may lead to mutually beneficial and sustainable forms of biofuel production.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Field research pertaining to the section on Jatropha development in the Philippines was financially supported by the Randolph G. Pack Environmental Institute.
