In pursuit of multidimensional justice: Lessons from a charcoal ‘greening’ project in Tanzania

Abstract

Over the last 30 years, Tanzania has adopted different policy approaches to conserve forests. However, the idea that providing livelihood benefits is a key strategy for achieving conservation effectiveness has persisted throughout the shift from earlier integrated conservation and development approach to the ‘newer’ green economy. This one-dimensional conception of what ‘local people’ value and why precludes a clear understanding of substantive social justice considerations – what is being contested, why, and by whom – when conflicts arise in policy implementation settings. Using a green economy project that addresses charcoal-driven forest loss in Kilosa, the paper examines a conflict between forest conservation and farming and studies the variegated notions of justice that farmers express in relation to the conflict. The paper builds upon a developing strand in the political ecology literature, namely of empirical analyses of rural people’s justice conceptions in environmental conservation, to demonstrate analytic and practical values of a multidimensional justice framework. It illustrates how the framework can help to assess and reframe environmental interventions, going beyond one-dimensional conceptions, to focus attention on the diverse ways in which justice can be recognised or denied at different levels and in different ways for different groups of people. Particularly, it highlights that context matters, as despite the distributional ‘success’ of the project, disregarded concerns over procedural and recognition justice dimensions led to farmers’ loss of land, covert resistance, and continued struggles over compensations. This paper therefore argues that being attentive to a range of justice dimensions can expose locally valued and contested conservation aspects, as well as guide more just environmental conservation.

Keywords

Multidimensional justice framework green transformations forests social justice rural Kilosa

Introduction

There are ongoing struggles over social justice under a ‘green transformation agenda’ in the Global South (Buseth, 2017). In Tanzania, green transformation policy framing draws heavily on the green economy framework, namely that technical and market-driven interventions provide the best policy solutions for addressing economic and environmental challenges, including those related to achieving sustainable development by re-orienting agriculture, energy, and environmental conservation towards the so-called ‘green modernisation’ (Bergius and Buseth, 2019). In terms of conservation, this approach often targets common-pool resources (CPRs) such as forests in rural areas for formal management for use in sustainable production (i.e. charcoal, crops) or for marketised conservation for use in payments for ecosystem services (PES) schemes (Brockington and Ponte, 2015; Buseth, 2017). Thus, its execution is framed as enhanced environmental protection along with ‘modernised’ and changed access to and control over natural resources (Bergius and Buseth, 2019). Despite an increased emphasis on foreign investment, finance and private-sector actors in bringing about green transformations, the role of local actors in green economy-aligned conservation tends to follow the older logics of the integrated conservation and development policy(ICDP) approach, ‘that providing livelihood benefits is a key strategy for achieving conservation effectiveness’ (Martin, 2017: 130).

However, the notion of aggregate ‘livelihood benefits’ has a ‘flattening’ effect, glossing over power differentials amongst stakeholder groups and masking tensions that can arise between different actors and organisations pursuing particular conservation and development agendas and those concerned with livelihoods. Besides, it instrumentalises and homogenises ‘the community’. Thus, at the core of the tensions are concerns over one-dimensional conceptions of ‘local people’, often formulated by non-local actors, of what they value and why. This precludes a clear understanding of substantive justice considerations – what is being contested, why, and by whom – when conflicts arise in implementation settings.

In response, critical analysts have called for a multidimensional conception of social justice to be placed at the centre of environmental conservation (Martin, 2017; Schlosberg, 2007; Walker, 2010). A multidimensional social justice framework directs attention not only to unequal outcomes of environmental interventions along important axes of social difference, including gender, ethnicity, and social class, but also understands them through these intertwined justice dimensions: distributional justice, procedural justice, contextual and recognitional justice (Dawson et al., 2018; Law et al., 2017; McDermott et al., 2013; Martin, 2017; Zafra-Calvo et al., 2017). The framework can help to assess and reframe interventions, going beyond technical and economic indicators, to focus attention on the diverse ways in which justice can be recognised or denied, at different levels and in different ways for different groups of people, and thus can guide more equitable governance (Zafra-Calvo et al., 2017).

In this paper, I demonstrate the framework’s analytic and practical value by using it to analyse a CPR governance regime that implements a charcoal ‘greening’ initiative called Sustainable Charcoal Project (SCP) in Kilosa district, east central Tanzania. The Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC) funds the SCP and the Tanzania Forest Conservation Group (TFCG) implements it. I describe a conflict between its forest conservation goals and farmers’ justice interests, resulting from resource governance changes that it has brought into Ulaya Mbuyuni, one of the SCP implementing villages.

Earlier discussions on the ICDP approaches utilised utilitarian justice theories that prioritise aggregate conservation outcomes over marginalised individual’s interests (Martin, 2017; Sikor et al., 2014). A key part of these discussions is the livelihood benefits concept, dominated by simplistic economic conceptions of local claims to conservation impacts. They only conceive justice in distributional terms, i.e. who gets what under what principles (Schlosberg, 2007; Walker, 2010). An emerging trend in political ecology has recently applied the multidimensional framework to study justice using empirical approaches (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018; He and Sikor, 2015; Sikor et al., 2014). Yet many of these accounts use it to demonstrate how pluralistic justice logics inform conservation practices within the dynamics of PES initiatives, rather than initiatives that target sustainable production. The PES initiatives constitute marketised conservation that follows neoliberal logics of privatisation, marketisation, and commodification (Fletcher and Büscher, 2017). These differ from the ongoing green modernisation initiatives in the Global South, which target CPRs in rural areas to institute formal management for use in sustainable production (Bergius and Buseth, 2019; Buseth, 2017).

Thus, the literature contains relatively few analyses that apply the framework to explore conservation struggles within green economy interventions that target environmental resources for efficient use in sustainable production. In an effort to fill the literature gap, I have examined the SCP’s implementation in Ulaya Mbuyuni. Using it as an empirical case, this paper therefore aims to fill the gap by answering these questions: (i) what conceptions of justice do rural individuals express, and why? and (ii) how do the expressed conceptions shape individuals’ responses to conservation interventions? My analysis of the SCP’s conservation–farming conflict illuminates how its utilitarian distributive justice conceptions contradict some local contexts and ideas about justice, leading to the farmers’ loss of land, covert resistance, and struggles over compensation. Hence, despite social justice being a central feature of the green economy framework (UNEP, 2011), in practice, its aligned interventions repeat tendencies of reproducing social injustices for the greater good, like the older ICDP approaches. Adding to the political ecology literature, I suggest that the multidimensional justice framework provides a fruitful way of considering rural people’s multiple justice expressions, in relation to the inequitable past and present socio-cultural and political conditions, exposing locally valued and contested conservation impacts. This allows richer understandings of their responses to the green economy-aligned conservation interventions and outcomes. In practice, the understandings can guide more equitable conservation, especially as the interventions increasingly target environmental resources critical for rural livelihoods.

In the next section, the paper details the multidimensional justice framework. I then explain my methodology, followed by a description of the study site and context, outlining how green transformation is pursued. The paper’s results in the ‘Notions and claims of justice in the SCP implementation’ section apply the framework to discuss how claims about justice are made at the local level, revealing site-specific struggles and tensions over justice. Finally, the paper reflects on this analysis’s contribution to the political ecology literature, discussing the analytic and practical value of the framework within ongoing green economy-aligned conservation interventions, in pursuit of more just conservation.

Applying a multidimensional justice framework to a charcoal ‘greening’ initiative in Kilosa

The multidimensional justice framework applied here builds upon that of Martin (2017) and borrows insights and examples from Dawson et al. (2018), Law et al. (2017), McDermott et al. (2013), Sikor et al. (2014), and Zafra-Calvo et al. (2017). The framework accepts a case-based contextual approach to demonstrate how embracing multiple conceptions of justice could be key to developing and implementing socially just environmental conservation interventions. The case-based contextual approach focuses on individuals’ claims, situations, and positionalities (as opposed to communities only) as subjects of inquiry (Martin, 2017). Its emphasis is on understanding justice conceptions that are important to individuals and analysing how the conceptions shape individuals’ claims to their rights, and their responses to conservation interventions. Its contrasting approach, the normative approach, identifies generalised principles of what is just and unjust in any given context (Martin, 2017). It adopts a utilitarian conception of justice that prioritises ‘societal outcomes over individual ones’ (Martin, 2017: 11). Sikor et al. (2014) note, the conception is inappropriate in contexts of environmental conservation in the Global South, due to pronounced inter- and intra-community socio-economic, cultural, and political inequities. Under such settings, when applied, it brushes aside pre-existing distributional, recognitional, and procedural inequities, leading to displacement and exclusion of disadvantaged people from accessing resources (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018).

The concept of livelihood benefits follows utilitarian distributive conceptions that assume conservation actions to be right in principle, as long as the majority are happy and their welfares are improving even when rights of some individuals are disregarded (Martin, 2017; Sikor et al., 2014). It dominates environmental justice discussions, particularly those applying the normative approach. In this concept, justice is exclusively defined as a question of equity in the distribution of social goods (Schlosberg, 2007; Walker, 2010). It often carries promises of substantial future economic and livelihood benefits, i.e. ‘economy of expectations’ (Fletcher et al., 2016). He and Sikor (2015) show that in the concept, conservation actors from local to national scales usually share a primary concern for the fairness of how conservation costs and benefits are distributed, despite prevailing differences in their understandings of justice. It defines fairness as just distribution of goods and bads (Schlosberg, 2007). This narrow conception precludes the multifaceted relations within societies and between environmental resources and people, hiding forms of inequities that are not defined in distributional terms (Walker, 2010). These critical analysts do not disregard distributive justice. Rather, they emphasise that livelihood benefits alone cannot determine conservation effectiveness, as the benefits and their distributive patterns should be thoroughly understood in relation to other locally valued interests of fair capability, procedure, and recognition.

The multidimensional framework therefore introduces a multifaceted approach to justice based on a thorough understanding of distributive, procedural, and recognitional dimensions. The distributive dimension is concerned with the sharing of conservation impacts and responsibilities between different individuals and groups. Procedural deals with inclusions and exclusion in environmental decision-making. Finally, recognitional concerns the respect and disrespect for differences and the avoidance of domination. I draw on Martin’s (2017) framework to make sense of these dimensions. The framework’s pluralistic conception assumes that context matters and therefore no universal justice principles could generate an ethical consensus to resolve questions about just distribution, procedure, and recognition (Martin, 2017). This necessitates an understanding of a contextual justice dimension. However, in the literature, it is often disregarded or taken as part of recognition. Following Law et al. (2017) and Dawson et al. (2017), I consider it independently by incorporating McDermott et al.’s (2013) explanation. For them, it concerns past and present socio-cultural conditions (beliefs, institutions, power dynamics, ethnicity) that define what is right or wrong. Schlosberg (2007) categorises it as capability, focused on individual agency and functioning in the context of a given society. It considers uneven playing fields that the conditions create, when examining differences in people’s abilities to be recognised, to participate in decision-making, and to lobby for just distribution (Law et al., 2017; McDermott et al., 2013; Schlosberg, 2007). Such conditions often define what is required or not required to enable or constrain the pursuit for socially just conservation (Zafra-Calvo et al., 2017). Table 1 summarises these dimensions and their characteristics.

Table 1.

Elements of multidimensional justice framework.

Justice dimension	Characteristics
Recognition	Recognises and respects diverse actors, their identities, interests, aspirations, and values Recognises and respects marginalised groups
Procedural	Chances to participate and influence decision-making Fulfilment of commitments made by resources institutions Fairness in rule-making and enforcement Fairness in political processes that allocate resources and resolve disputes Clearly defined and agreed responsibilities of actors
Distributive	Fair sharing of conservation burdens and benefits Equitable distribution of rights and responsibilities Mitigates any costs to marginalised groups through compensation or alternative resources
Contextual	Considers broad social, governance, economic and cultural contexts, past and present Considers power imbalances amongst the actors Recognises variegated capabilities of individuals to participate, influence decisions, and capture benefits

Source: Own representation, based on Dawson et al. (2018), Law et al. (2017), Martin (2017), McDermott et al. (2013), and Zafra-Calvo et al. (2017).

Hence, the framework elucidates that justice struggles are profoundly contextual. In contrast to the normative approach, it seeks to be contextually grounded in identifying local justice claims based on claimants’ positionalities, and past and present socio-cultural and political situations. McDermott et al. (2013) note that claimants’ positionalities and the underlying situations can (re)produce inequities in the other dimensions, as they may create unfair grounds in: (i) the distribution of conservation benefits, rights, and responsibilities (distributive); (ii) being heard, i.e. actively participating and influencing decision-making (procedural); and (iii) demanding recognition of their aspirations, interests, and values in the political process (recognitional). Claims and their associated justice framings are usually unevenly persuasive; due to existing differences in power and social identities, some become more noticeable while others are concealed. In conservation interventions, it is common to find some claims getting support as being morally right, and others encountering substantial disapproval (Fisher et al., 2018; He and Sikor, 2015). However, what is morally right or wrong within the interventions is defined by universal conceptions on what constitute justice and injustice (Martin, 2017). In reality, local people’s justice claims are endogenous, as they are shaped by past and present socio-cultural and political situations (He and Sikor, 2015). Accordingly, the framework calls for empirically grounded observations of how justice logics are conceived and applied in practice, when dealing with real-world conservation problems, such as the conflict between forest conservation and farming in rural Kilosa.

Recent literature advances raise concerns about social justice in greening¹ interventions in the Global South (Barkin and Fuente, 2013; Fisher et al., 2018; He and Sikor, 2015; Scoones et al., 2015). Scoones et al. (2015) boldly argue, ‘[I]n many, perhaps especially developing country contexts, there is unlikely to be any green transformations if questions of social justice are not part of the debate’ (3). Barkin and Fuente (2013) analyse contrasting justice logics between local people and advocates of greening of the forestry sector in Mexico, Fisher et al. (2018) examine notions of justice that local people express in two contrasting PES initiatives in Uganda, while He and Sikor (2015) study justice notions embedded in state policy and those held by villagers and local state officials, and how villagers’ notions shape their reactions to a state forest greening programme in China. They note on how a primary concern for distributive, rather than procedural and recognitional justice, produce villagers’ positive responses to livelihood benefits that the programme provides. Fisher et al.’s (2018) empirically derived justice notions in two carbon forestry projects produce a fuller understanding of people’s reactions to the projects and their outcomes. So, it is associations between rural people’s variegated ideas of justice, how the ideas influence their justice claims and responses to greening interventions – targeting environmental resources for efficient use in sustainable production – which I explore in later sections.

The case: SCP in Ulaya Mbuyuni, Kilosa

In Tanzania, forested villages with no ‘formal’ land use plans have unreserved forests on village lands. These ‘open area forests’ (Sungusia and Lund, 2016) are commonly used as spare lands for future communal or individual uses. The National Land Act of 1999 categorises lands where open area forests fall as ‘general land’, defined as ‘all public land, which is not reserved land or village land, and includes unoccupied or unused village land’ (URT, 1999a: 24). Ulaya Mbuyuni village had open area forests. Its leadership governed all land uses (excluding timber harvesting) on open area forests. In the forests, few villagers got residential and farming lands legally (via a village committee and known to the village assembly), while many others obtained them illegally (via a powerful village chairperson and unknown to the assembly).

Ulaya Mbuyuni has six sub-villages, with a total of 3473 people. SCP’s field officers and technical adviser told me that it is one of the earliest and successful SCP implementing villages in the miombo woodlands.² It is composed of mixed ethnicities: Sagara, Kaguru, Bena, Yao, Ngindo, Pogoro, Gogo, Hehe, Sukuma, Ha, and Ndendeule. Over 81.2% of the residents are farmers (UVC, 2012). They produce charcoal as a by-product when clearing new farmlands and as an income-generating activity in off-farm season. This makes ‘traditional’ charcoal making a secondary livelihood strategy and land-use practice that is often cited as an unsustainable and a driver of deforestation in Kilosa (Forrester-Kibuga and Samweli, 2010; Mugasha and Katani, 2016). This narrative is dominant within Tanzanian forest policies. However, as charcoal production tends to consist of temporary clearing of all standing forest biomass, rather than long-term loss of forest cover, charcoal making is linked to degradation more than deforestation (Mwampamba et al., 2013). Nonetheless, the TFCG kept the narrative when they made a proposal for greening charcoal in the miombo to the SDC (TFCG, 2011). It undertook a forest change study to depict the village’s deforestation history (Table 2). The study shows that most of the deforestation took place in open area forests. This is where most farmers practiced cultivation and charcoal making, an area where struggles over access and justice manifest.

Table 2.

A short forest change history in Ulaya Mbuyuni village.

Forest change	2007–2010 (hectares)	2010–2014 (hectares)	2014–2015 (hectares)
Forest loss in the village forest	228.69	375.84	21.78
Forest loss in the village forest reserve	143.28	244.53	13.5

Source: TFCG’s forest change data.

Deforestation contributes around 6–17% of global anthropogenic CO₂ emissions (Baccini et al., 2012). As tropical forests are increasingly becoming CO₂ sources (Baccini et al., 2017), tackling deforestation ‘is seen as one of the low-hanging fruit that can be targeted rapidly to reduce carbon emissions’ (Brockington and Ponte, 2015: 2198). Along these lines, since late 2012, the TFCG (2011) implements the SCP with the goal of discontinuing traditional charcoal production practices. The TFCG implements the SCP with a green modernisation vision. The vision is to increase wood utilisation efficiency and minimise wood loss through improved basic earth-mound kilns, installed in designated charcoal forest management units (FMUs). The vision is paired with a 24-year coppicing rotation system, practices of selective cutting, and cutting trees at knee height (∼50 centimetres) to leave behind a stump and the roots, all designed to enhance tree regeneration. The vision aligns with Tanzania’s green transformation agenda, which puts forests at the heart of a green economy (UNEP, 2015). This is seen in policy practices that aim to have cleaner and more stable forests. In its focus on reducing forest and wood loss, the SCP epitomises such practices. Local natural resource committees established in each of the eight implementing villages (Figure 1), supervise this process, within the old community-based forest management (CBFM) framework.³

Figure 1.

Map showing SCP project villages in Kilosa district. Credit: The TFCG produced this map for the SCP.

The SCP brought three changes in the village’s resource governance. The first change was the development of its village land use plan (VLUP), which is central to land governance system in Tanzanian villages (Huggins, 2018). This involved identification of land uses and creation of bylaws (UVC, 2012). Village land has three categories: communal for public utilities; individual for a person, family, or group of persons (URT, 1999b); and spare for future communal or individual use (Locher, 2016). Majority villagers endorsed the plan at the village assembly (UVC, 2012). Second, there was designation of a village land forest reserve (VLFR) and its FMUs, occupying 3540 hectares out of the 5789 hectares – over 60% of the total village land. The third change was the crafting of new institutions that brought modernised mechanisms for managing people–forests interactions, such as locally elected resource committees, a forest users group, and ‘sustainable’ tree harvesting practices. The Village Natural Resources Committee (VNRC) and Village Land Use Management Committee (VLUMC) were mandated to create and oversee rules to govern the interactions. The committees’ members are elected amongst resident adult villagers at the assembly. As the public space for adult villagers (18+ years old) to ‘discuss the conduct and the decisions of the village leadership’ (Greco, 2016: 24), the assembly is the supreme authority over village affairs (URT, 1982). Ideally, the committees thus act on villagers’ behalf for land affairs in the forests.

In relation to the ongoing greening agenda for ‘natural forests’, the SCP adopts a utilitarian logic that prioritises aggregate outcomes to justify conservation actions that serve the greater societal good, particularly in terms of great future economic and livelihood benefits. Over the last 30 years of forest policy formulation and implementation in Tanzania, promises of livelihood benefits have been a key discursive commodity that decision makers and practitioners use to validate their next ‘silver bullet’ in addressing socio-ecological problems (Lund et al., 2017). As a recent community-based resource management scheme, the SCP in Ulaya Mbuyuni presents an opportunity to examine how the newer green economy-aligned conservation tends to follow older logics of the ICDP approach, and what such continuity implies for justice. Particularly, the notion of aggregate livelihood benefits precludes a clear understanding of substantive social justice considerations, when conservation collides with people’s livelihoods. Importantly, this situation illustrates why and how the multidimensional justice framework can be analytically and practically valuable in the pursuit of socially just environmental conservation.

Methodology

Information for this analysis comes from a range of ethnographic methods carried out during seven months of fieldwork from April to September 2016, and January 2017, when I lived in the village from June to early September 2016. Primary methods of data generation were semi-structured interviews in the form of expert and key informant interviews, focus group discussions (FGDs), and participant observation. I conducted expert interviews with the Kilosa district’s forest manager, SCP’s field officers, SCP’s technical adviser, and SDC’s programme officer. I conducted 32 informant interviews with farmers, charcoal makers, and selected members of the village council, natural resources, and land management committees. I undertook four FGDs with charcoal producers, and members of the village council, natural resources, and land management committees to understand on-the-ground background contexts and insights, explore how local resource users talk about SCP and the VNRC’s functioning, and compare experts’ insights with the locals’.

I participated as an observer in two closed meetings: a special farmers’ meeting that discussed ongoing conservation–farming conflict; and charcoal producers’ workshop with SCP’s officials, discussing strategies to meet SDC’s conditions for continued financial support to the project. I also shadowed two events in the village: following the VNRC when it was allocating charcoal plots to registered producers; and shadowing the village executive officer, sub-village chairpersons, and the VNRC and VLUMC members when they summoned farmers to explain their cultivation in the forest reserve. As a participant observer, I viewed ‘each moment as an opportunity for both data gathering and reflection, not knowing what will ultimately be important’ (Corson et al., 2014: 24). I occasionally employed reflexive analysis (Burawoy, 2003) by positioning gathered data against theories, and by developing further questions to explore.

Notions and claims of justice in the SCP implementation

‘Livelihood benefits’ and project acceptance

Like other green economy-aligned conservation interventions in the Global South (e.g. Buseth, 2017; Fisher et al., 2018; Lund et al., 2017), the SCP in Ulaya Mbuyuni carries promises of livelihood benefits alongside environmental protection. One informant said that during its introductory meetings, the majority of villagers accepted it, the VLUP and its land use categories, due to two promises that were given. First, farmers with lands inside the designated VLFR would receive land compensation, and those with makazi mashamba (pieces of land that combine both farmlands and settlements on the same plot) could remain in the VLFR as long as they would not clear new farmlands. ‘We were told that we can remain in the forest to be the village’s informants and guards against illegal forest access’, a farmer noted (Participant observation, 15 August 2016). They were promised that intended forest conservation could take place amidst their farming activities. The SCP field officers told them that it was possible to have forest patches that would cumulatively make the VLFR, an informant noted (Interview, 28 August 2016). Second, as an aggregate societal benefit, the village would retain 100% of charcoal revenues for community development initiatives and forest management (FGD, 10 August 2016). One charcoal producer said, ‘[T]he goal of producing charcoal is for me to get profits, and the village too’ (Interview, 26 August 2018). Charcoal producers were incentivised to accept the project to promote forest conservation through sustainable use, earn sustainable livelihoods, and generate village revenue (FGD, 10 August 2016).

Neighbouring villages’ experiences about livelihood benefits were also key to the acceptance. Villagers had confused the SCP with REDD+⁴ initiatives. In those villages, the TFCG was piloting REDD+ as part of Tanzania’s trial engagement (Lund et al., 2017). The villagers heard that the TFCG gave trial REDD+ payments in the form of individual dividends to all registered residents in those villages. The TFCG used same vehicles in its project villages, which had logos and sticker with words, ‘Making REDD Work for Communities and Forest Conservation in Tanzania’. This caused Ulaya Mbuyuni villagers to visualise ‘REDD+ benefits’ in their lives and village, as several informants reported. In its 13 REDD+ villages in Kilosa, the TFCG promised income-generating projects such as improved agricultural practices, beekeeping, chicken rearing, and sustainable charcoal making (Vatn et al., 2017). Plus, it had other SCP villages in Kilosa (Figure 1), where Ulaya Mbuyuni villagers heard about generated charcoal revenues and reduced villagers’ burdens for cash contribution to development initiatives. One informant said that the village has an history of coercive monetary collections for its development initiatives (Interview, 24 August 2016). This occurs in most Tanzanian villages (see Fjeldstad and Semboja, 2001). One informant noted that such experiences and promises of future livelihood benefits pushed most villagers into project acceptance (Interview, 26 August 2016).

In those moments, the VNRC was an agent of the aggregate livelihood benefits idea. TFCG officials taught the VNRC about the project’s goals of producing charcoal sustainably, forest conservation, generating village revenues, and collective sharing of conservation benefits (Interview, 31 May 2016). As the knowledge broker, at village gatherings, the VNRC spoke about benefits that the village would obtain. Several informants spoke about how communal conservation benefits were emphasised, while risks and costs associated with project implementation to individuals were not openly discussed. In some sessions, discussants noted that the promises of collective benefits made most villagers nonchalant towards those who had lands inside the VLFR. During participant observation at various VNRC’s activities, I heard members employing the utilitarian thinking that for the good of the current and future community, the forest must be protected from degradation that encroachers supposedly cause. They justified the labelling of the settlers and farmers as encroachers, and the intent to remove them, based on the idea that the SCP would bring greater societal good, namely in the form of charcoal revenues that could fund communal development initiatives. This is typical where the utilitarian thinking dominates, as ‘moral status of an action is determined by its outcome, measured by the net impact on happiness … even where it involves disregarding the rights of some individuals’ (Martin, 2017: 11–12). They believed that through the communal initiatives, equitable sharing of conservation benefits would be realised. Thus, for the VNRC, it was morally right to evict the encroachers for the good of the society. Initially, this received villagers’ approval as it was linked to substantial future benefits from expected charcoal revenues, making it difficult for the encroachers’ claims to get villagers’ support (cf. Fisher et al., 2018; He and Sikor, 2015).

As of June 2018, USD 70,345⁵ had been generated as tariffs from charcoal sales. In productive CBFM schemes, VNRCs usually get 40% and village development initiatives receive 60% of the total forest revenues (e.g. Sungusia and Lund, 2016). In Ulaya Mbuyuni, the VNRC oversees revenues administration and distribution, and gets 60% of the revenues, while the remaining 40% goes to communal development projects. Table 3 summarises the funded projects.

Table 3.

Village development initiatives funded by charcoal revenues.

Initiative	Received funds in USD	Completion stage
Constructing two primary school classrooms and a teachers’ office	14,448	Ongoing
Contributing to costs of laboratory construction for the secondary school	1886	Completed
Covering one-year health insurance for every resident	1886	Completed
Constructing a water well	8554	Completed
Budgeting for construction of a dispensary	4437	Ongoing

Source: Fieldwork data.

However, the settlers and farmers mobilised several villagers and questioned the practicality of utilitarian distributive justice. Three aspects were raised. First, they clarified that REDD+ is unrelated to the SCP. In a neighbouring village of Chabima, REDD+ trial payment per household was about USD 46, and in other REDD+ villages, the payment was around USD 40 (Vatn et al., 2017). Several informants stated disappointments over the SCP due to the realisation that there were no individual dividends. Disappointments are common in green economy-aligned interventions that carry the promises of livelihood benefits alongside environmental protection (Fletcher et al., 2016). Second, there was discontentment with the health insurance programme, one of the charcoal-funded communal initiatives. Due to deficient medical services at a private dispensary, villagers perceived the insurance cover as wasteful. Several informants noted difficulties in using their medical insurances at the dispensary. They recounted that many common diagnoses, treatments, and medicines were not covered in the insurance at the dispensary. They were asked to pay in cash. Villagers then agreed to set a budget to construct their own dispensary, costing USD 16,859. So far, USD 4437 has been allocated.

Third, there were growing feelings that only charcoal producers and VNRC members benefit from the SCP as individuals. In closed meetings or seminars that the TFCG or VNRC organises, each participant receives an allowance of USD 2.3. In addition, the VNRC’s secretary and treasurer each get a monthly allowance of USD 31. Every member also receives USD 4.5 as an allowance for forest patrols, done twice a month; and USD 2.3 for a monthly VNRC meeting (Interview, 23 August 2016). Producers also receive USD 2.3 whenever the TFCG organises learning workshops for charcoal production (Participant observation, 16 August 2016). There were 80 registered producers, 45 of whom were active, based on the yearly allocation of production plots inside the VLFR (Interview, 27 August 2016). In 2016–2017, 54 plots were provided. On average, a producer makes 50 charcoal sacks – 50 kilograms each – from a 50×50 square metres plot. With an average price sack of USD 5.5, a producer can generate USD 275 during off-farm season – July–October, the active production period (FGD, 10 August 2016). If there are open plots, any producer is eligible to receive more than one plot per year, and thus generate more revenue (Interview, 28 August 2016). Dokken and Angelsen (2015) show that mean annual total household income is about USD 371 in rural Kilosa. These few individuals are thus fairly well off compared to the majority of the villagers. However, without being attentive to pluralistic justice conceptions, the notion of aggregate livelihood benefits tends to hide other inequities that cannot be defined in economic terms (Walker, 2010), rendering economic challenges and processes that are inherently socio-cultural and political, as I discuss below.

Contextual dimension to the forest conservation–farming conflict

… recently, some villagers received eviction notices, demanding them to get out of their lands where they used to live and farm. The notices claim that they have invaded lands that are part of the village forest. This is something that is not right, to call your own villagers invaders, while they have been there before the project. We fail to understand this; has the project come to harass villagers or to help them? (A passage from a letter dated 17 January 2016 that Ulaya Mbuyuni farmers wrote to their Village Executive Officer)

Discussions with members of the village council (a political board of a maximum of 25 locally elected representatives) and villagers painted the VNRC as the powerful committee in the village. Table 4 summarises its powers and roles in the SCP. I then discuss how they manifest in the conflict.

Table 4.

The VNRC’s roles and powers in the SCP.

Site of manifestation	Roles and powers
In the village’s office	Receiving and evaluating applications for charcoal production Registering accepted producers Granting forest entrance permits Issuing certificates of admission to infraction and penalty Rewarding any villager who reports on forest infractions Resolving disputes in relation to forest management
At the village assembly	Providing quarterly reports on forest revenues and expenditures Delivering promises of aggregate livelihood benefits Educating villagers on sustainable forest use practices
Inside the village forest reserve	Allocating charcoal making plots to registered producers Doing forest patrols, twice a month

SCP: Sustainable Charcoal Project; VNRC: Village Natural Resources Committee.

Source: Fieldwork data.

On 3 December 2015, the VNRC wrote a letter to each of the 48 farmers, referred to as invaders (refer to the above quoted passage). In total, there were 64 farmers cultivating inside the designated VLFR: 29 with makazi mashamba, and 35 farmers farming in the reserve, but living in the village (Interview, 28 August 2016). The letter’s heading was ‘Ban notice on farming and settlement inside the Ulaya Mbuyuni village land forest reserve’. Below is its content:

Refer to the heading above.

From today, the Ulaya Mbuyuni village natural resources committee is giving a ban notice that from 30 August 2016 it is prohibited for anyone to have settlements, or farming activities inside the area of Ulaya Mbuyuni’s village land forest reserve.

In case anyone will not adhere to this notice, strict legal measures will be taken against that person, including being sent to court for further legal sanctions.

When it opened a court case against those who rejected verbal notices, a local Magistrates’ Court advised it to write the letters, one VNRC member said (Interview, 23 August 2016). Signing the letter meant accepting removal from the land. The VNRC’s chairperson and secretary, the village chairperson, and the village executive officer were the supervisory authority, witnesses, and signees. At the Court, the VNRC labelled settlements and farmlands inside the reserve as encroachments. It referred to the Forest Act of 2002. Section 26 (a–s) of the Act lists activities prohibited within forest reserves without permission from an existing right holder (here, the VNRC on behalf of the village). Erecting residential buildings or other structures, clearing land for cultivation, sowing any crops, and livestock grazing are amongst the prohibited activities (URT, 2002). Citing the Act, the VNRC identified the farmers as invaders. It told the local Magistrate that it first gave verbal ban and removal notices to the farmers. Sixteen farmers, mostly from those with makazi mashamba, departed, and 48 farmers rejected the notices. For the farmers, the VNRC’s moral base for the label ‘encroachers’ and subsequent eviction notices were defined against their ideas of right and wrong. They considered to have rightly obtained their lands, and it was wrong to be evicted without compensation and even being heard about making the former chairperson’s land allocations locally legal. Their claims were thus endogenous (He and Sikor, 2015), i.e. based on pre-existing chairperson’s power abuse, as I discuss below.

One contextual aspect that was overlooked (intentionally or not), and caused the conflict to emerge, is the preceding land allocation system. Ulaya Mbuyuni had about 3540 hectares of open area forests on its land (see Table 5). The country’s forestry policy community often labels open area forests as ‘open access’, in the sense that they are under heavy pressure for conversion to other land uses such as farming, livestock grazing settlements, and ‘unsustainable’ wood utilisation. However, villagers see open area forests as spare lands for future communal or individual land uses such as investments, farmlands expansion, and settlements. The 64 farmers used the open area forest for settlements and cultivation. The Village Land Act of 1999 (hereafter VLA) grants the village council authority over village land, on behalf of the village assembly (URT, 1999b). Section 8(4) of the VLA allows the council to establish a committee to advise it on land management. Section 8(5) instructs that the council cannot allocate land or grant right of occupancy without a prior approval of the assembly (URT, 1999b).

However, prior to the SCP and the developed VLUP, the village had an illegal land allocation system, which was based on powers of one former village chairperson. Historically, the Sagara, the first ethnic groups to settle this land, occupied a higher social stratum in Kilosa (Beidelman, 1978). The first-comers classified all ethnic groups that came later as outsiders. They had an authority to accept or reject the outsiders and their land uses, establishing themselves as more entitled to village resources (Beidelman, 1978). Discussions with some elders revealed that the Sagara claimed political authority over land resources, and latecomers had to accept Sagara’s ritual authority over land. The former village chairperson affiliates with the Sagara. His ethnic affiliation also ties him to sorcery powers. In Tanzanian societies, sorcery beliefs are very profound and pervasive (Mesaki, 1993). In Kilosa, it is always assumed that pioneer settlers possess the strongest sorcery powers from ancestral ghosts and mystical connection with the land (Beidelman, 1971). In addition, his wife is mganga wa kienyeji [a local healer]. Local healers are feared and believed to possess sorcery powers as well, as they can cleanse witchcraft (Mesaki, 1993).

Following this history, the chairperson created his own land allocation system in the open area forest. The system was illegal as it did not go through a village land committee and receive villagers’ endorsement at the assembly, as per the VLA. Also, it did not fall under the statutory/customary hybrid law (Locher, 2016). The 48 farmers, all latecomers, obtained their lands⁶ through the system. One informant reported that an allocation was between the chairperson and a land seeker, and that the chairperson used a village’s seal to stamp an allocation agreement on a piece of paper (Interview, 18 August 2016). Several informants said that he used his ethnic affiliation and the attached powers to allocate land illegally, and unchallenged. For the villagers and council members who attempted to challenge him, he used ‘threatening’ words such as ‘I will deal with you’ and ‘You cannot do anything to me’. The informants said that these words constituted threats of inflicting harm through sorcery. Believing that witchcraft is inherently harmful (Mesaki, 1993), they all remained submissive to him and his system, as one informant noted (Interview, 28 August 2016). His perceived powers adversely affected farmers’ capabilities in being respected and recognised in their claims for compensation (cf. Schlosberg, 2007), as nobody held him accountable. Below, I expound on this.

Farmers’ rationalities over the conflict

Several farmers signed the ban and removal letters, and others refused. On 15 August 2016, a special village inquiry was organised for those who had refused. During the inquiry, under pressure from the supervisory authority, one farmer signed (Participant observation, 15 August 2016). However, still others did not. In this section, I explain their logic in addition to the earlier noted concerns over the utilitarian distributive justice.

The farmers questioned the removal procedures. ‘The VNRC has no authority to remove a villager from a land’, one farmer argued (Interview, 23 August 2016). They questioned the VNRC’s authority over a villager’s land occupancy. At the inquiry, when asked why they had not signed the notice, two farmers responded:

Farmer 1: I have not signed the notice because it has been prepared and written by the committee [the VNRC], which has no authority for removing a villager from anywhere. If the village council had written the notice, then I would have signed. (Participant observation, 15 August 2016)

Farmer 2: The committee has written the eviction notice, even using its letterhead. But, I got my land from the village government through the [former] village chairperson. So, if I sign this eviction notice, where will I go to claim my right? (Participant observation, 15 August 2016)

When I asked one farmer why he did not sign the notice, he answered: ‘I told them [the VNRC], you do not have authority to remove me. The village [former] chairperson has such authority, as he allocated the land to me’ (Interview, 23 August 2016).

The farmers did not accept the VNRC’s authority over their land occupancy. In fact, the Forest Act, the national CBFM guidelines, and the 1982 Local Government (District Authorities) Act, and even the VLUP vest all executive powers over village affairs and land ownership to the village council on villagers’ behalf (MNRT, 2007; URT, 1982, 2002; UVC, 2012). Regarding forest management, the Forest Act notes that the VNRC works on the council’s behalf (URT, 2002). The farmers queried the VNRC’s legal justification for the removal from village land, an aspect that falls under the council’s authority. One farmer went further, even doubting the VNRC’s legality in writing the notice, stating that its tenure was already over: ‘Even the eviction notices that they [the VNRC] have provided are not valid’ (Interview, 23 August 2016). The tenure is three years, after which new members are elected. When asked about this, one VNRC leader noted that at that time there was no village leadership, as the village chairperson had been suspended because of a corruption allegation over the water well project. Hence, the village could not hold an election, as there was no leadership to officially call for the assembly – the only platform to elect the members. So, the VNRC had truly exceeded its tenure limit.

Moreover, the farmers questioned the fairness of the enforcement of forest management rules. At the special farmers’ meeting, the farmers doubted the VNRC’s impartiality, citing how it fails to deal with Maasai’s livestock raids in the reserve (Participant observation, 16 January 2017). Benjaminsen et al. (2009) note, as Maasai pastoralists are a minority in Kilosa, they compensate by bribing local officials. ‘Put simply, herders have the wealth to bribe officials’, Brockington (2005: 108) notes. However, it is difficult to find evidence for bribing activities (Brockington, 2005). Yet, local narratives suggest that pastoralists sell their livestock for cash to bribe officials (Participant observation, 16 January 2017). This creates what the farmers call an ‘unequal playing field’, as they do not have quick access to cash like pastoralists, proving that fairness is not just about distribution of economic goods and bads (Schlosberg, 2007). But, it is also about people’s abilities to be heard re issues that affect their interests.

The farmers also reminded the VNRC and the SCP about two earlier commitments: (a) remaining inside the VLFR as long as they do not clear new land and (b) receiving land compensations. They thus questioned the fulfilment of the commitments. As noted earlier in the ‘“Livelihood benefits” and project acceptance’ section, they were promised that it was possible to remain inside the reserve, as the SCP can take forest patches that would cumulatively make the reserve, as one informant noted (Interview, 28 August 2016). Another informant said that they (the farmers) even raised this concern at the Magistrates’ Court (Interview, 23 August 2016). The commitment for compensation was frequently expressed during interviews and discussions. A total of 3629 hectares of cultivation land were lost to the VLFR (see Table 5). Section 8(2) of the VLA states that no village land shall be transferred until ‘the type, amount, method, and timing of the payment of compensation has been agreed upon …’ (URT, 1999b: 30). There are three contextual aspects of interest here, which the farmers expressed. First, it concerns ‘legality’ of their land ownership in the open area forest, transparency of the allocation process, and its implication for the eligibility for compensation. Section 6(a) of the VLA states that whenever there is a transfer and allocation of village land (<250 hectares) to a villager or a group of villagers, the village council shall inform the village assembly for approval or refusal (URT, 1999b).

Table 5.

Land use categories before and after SCP.

Land use category	Size before SCP (hectares)	Size after SCP (hectares)	Change (hectares)
Housing and settlement	67	86	+19
Agriculture	4084.5	2065	−2019.5
Makazi mashamba	1642.1	32	−1610.1
Grazing	0	18	+18
Forest reserve	0	3540	+3540

SCP: Sustainable Charcoal Project.

Source: Ulaya Mbuyuni’s 2012–2032 VLUP.

However, as I noted in the ‘Contextual dimension to the forest conservation–farming conflict’ section, there was an illegal allocation system, in which the former village chairperson used his perceived higher social status to run the system. He took advantage of an influx of migrants into the village in the early-to-mid-2000s, as a rent seeking opportunity, allocating lands inside the now VLFR without following allocation procedures, an informant narrated (Interview, 25 August 2016). He provided no acceptable ‘legal’ documentation to prove occupancies of his victims, the evicted farmers. Another informant recounted that the allocation process was not transparent, as the chairperson never disclosed allocations to the land committee, council, or the assembly (Interview, 28 August 2016).

Greco (2016) claims that this tendency is common with individuals from village governments in rural Tanzania. She links the tendency with practices of petty corruption. However, in this case, there was a lack of free deliberation over land governance. This resulted from the chairperson’s perceived powers over land governance. Most villagers were afraid to speak out against his power abuses and petty corruption to avoid his repression. Several informants said that the fear prevented villagers from raising their concerns in decision-making arenas. This illustrates a loss of capability to enable a functioning existence (Schlosberg, 2007), as the fear masked the farmers’ victimhood. When the VNRC told the farmers that only those who obtained land legally would be eligible for compensation, the farmers knew they would not get compensated, as nobody had received land statutorily or customarily (Interview, 28 August 2016). His perceived powers affected the farmers’ abilities to express their concerns and thus disrupted the farmers’ opportunities to enjoy their livings.

Second, the farmers were unhappy with procedures for land compensation that the VNRC had proposed. One VNRC leader noted that, out of sympathy (knowing that the farmers had no legal documentations), the VNRC and the village leadership agreed to compensate 1 hectare of land to each evicted farmer (Interview, 28 August 2016). However, at the special farmers’ meeting, I learned that the village proposed the 1 hectare plan for all villagers (not specifically to the evicted farmers) as a way to ensure younger villagers get lands for settlement and cultivation (Participant observation, 16 January 2017). At the meeting, some farmers complained that even if the VNRC’s plan was for them, it was unfair, as many had occupied lands of more than 1 hectare – some had more than 20 hectares. Fair and full compensation is one of the fundamental principles of the national land policy (URT, 1999a). Land compensation takes place through the Land Acquisition Act of 1967, regulated by the Land (Assessment of the Value of Land for Compensation) Regulations of 2001. Section 14 of the Act requires land assessment before compensation is granted: compensation shall be granted for land of equal market value with the consent of the person entitled to compensation (URT, 1967, 2001). Also, only a qualified land valuer shall conduct the assessment (URT, 2001). The farmers said these procedures did not take place.

Third, the farmers distrusted the VNRC over the physical availability of compensatory land. An evicted farmer, who used to be in one village committee, knew that the commitment would not materialise (Interview, 27 August 2016). The farmer said that he knew during the village land use planning that no spare land was reserved. At the FGD with members of the VLUMC, I learned that there was an oversight regarding the spare land. ‘There is no spare land. Therefore, for the next generation there would be hardships in the availability of farm fields’, a discussant noted (FGD, 11 August 2016). In attempt to resolve this and compensate the farmers, the VLUMC proposed to set aside a forest area that was allocated for firewood collection. The farmers and other villagers saw the proposal as problematic as firewood is ‘the single most valuable forest product’ in rural Kilosa (Dokken and Angelsen, 2015: 205). Removal of the firewood collection unit to create space for land compensation would result in other unjust episodes. The farmers’ three contextual concerns demonstrate the analytical value of the multidimensional justice framework in its focus on individuals’ claims and situations, as opposed to communities only (Martin, 2017). Villagers’ heterogeneity makes the focus vital for understanding justice conceptions that are important to individuals and not the whole community and recognising individual outcomes of the project.

Finally, the farmers expressed their concerns over the conflict resolution procedures. After they had rejected the written notices, the VNRC went back to the Court several times. Some farmers were called and voiced their grievances over compensation and how initial promises and commitments have not materialised. The Magistrate then gave a preliminary order that the eviction and its measures should be deliberated at the village assembly, and the Court would use the assembly’s decision to make a ruling, an informant noted (Interview, 23 August 2016). As the supreme authority on all matters of village general policy-making and affairs, the farmers saw the assembly as a space for quality deliberation on the conflict. As one of the VNRC’s witnesses, the current village chairperson was ordered to convene an extraordinary village assembly. Section 103(3) of the Local Government Act allows an extraordinary assembly to be convened to ‘discuss and decide upon any matter of extraordinary public importance’ (URT, 1982: 44). However, the chairperson never convened the assembly. ‘The [current] village chairperson was also present [at the Court] and he rejected to convene the assembly for an issue that villagers had already agreed since 2012/13’, one VNRC member said (Interview, 28 August 2016). Instead, the VNRC with village leadership summoned the farmers who rejected the notices. At the inquiry, one farmer when asked why he has not signed the notice, he responded: ‘I cannot sign because our case is still in the Court. So, I am waiting for the Court ruling’ (Participant observation, 15 August 2016). Another farmer said,

I remember being at the Court four times. And what I know is that the Court has not made a ruling. So, why do you summon me at the village office for the matter that is still to be decided at the Court? (Participant observation, 15 August 2016)

‘We [the farmers] want the committee [the VNRC] and village to adhere to the Court’s order’, one farmer said (Interview, 23 August 2016). The farmers wanted a fresh deliberation over the project implementation, believing that issues such as initial promises, the previous land occupancy system, the VNRC’s authority, land compensation, and benefits distribution require villagers’ review. They wanted their concerns and needs to be recognised in the project implementation. For instance, as the VLUP did not set aside spare land, they demanded their land claims be legitimised in hopes of changing the VLUP to provide land for them (Interview, 23 August 2016). At the special farmers’ meeting, there was a belief that, as the supreme political authority, the assembly would overrule the eviction notices or at least change the VLUP to create space for land compensation, as some villagers were upset with initial expectations and perceived benefits distribution to be unfair (Participant observation, 16 January 2017). The unfair and undemocratic nature of the eviction and subsequent procedural processes, is typical of interventions that focus narrowly on singular dimension of green transformation, where people’s needs that are not expressed in distributional terms are ignored (Leach, 2015).

Discussion and conclusions: In pursuit of multidimensional justice

In response to this charcoal greening project, people expressed different notions and claims about justice. The project thus highlights a complex mix of interconnected justice dimensions. There is a primacy of the distributive dimension amongst charcoal producers, and members of the VNRC and village council. The dimension’s centrality amongst local officials is well-documented in justice research that uses empirical approaches (e.g. He and Sikor, 2015). Often, this group receives greening education from the TFCG officials, emphasising the goals of producing charcoal sustainably, conserving forest resources, generating revenues for the village, and collective sharing of benefits. The education promotes the notion of societal greater good, and disregards risks and costs associated with project implementation to individuals. This group’s justice concern is entrenched in how the SCP galvanises village development, a common distributive justice notion amongst officials in conservation interventions (He and Sikor, 2015). Influenced by the initial expectations and promises, villagers with no land occupancies in the open area forests also expressed similar distributive concerns. Their goal of avoiding coercive development levies, overcoming poverty, and improving their living standards directed their focus to distributive matters. This is common in conservation projects that prioritise utilitarian distributive justice conception, where initial overriding concern for distributive justice expedites villagers’ project support (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018; He and Sikor, 2015).

On the other hand, villagers who had farmlands in the open area forest, frequently raised matters of contextual, procedural, and recognitional justices. Examples of this are seen in the farmers demand for consideration of the preceding land allocation system that provided them with occupancies in the forest, respect for their land compensation needs, and a fresh deliberation over the project implementation. Unlike the above group, this group associates their distributive justice with concerns over the other dimensions. I argue that overpromotion of economic dimensions should not occur at the expense of the other dimensions, as I discuss below.

The farmers want their needs be recognised in the SCP implementation. Recognition is often demanded when some people feel inferior, excluded, and invisible (Zafra-Calvo et al., 2017). It is associated with acknowledgement and respect for differences in values and interests (Dawson et al., 2018). The farmers assumed that recognition of their needs would facilitate their distributive justice, considering that the adopted utilitarian distributive logic was not materialising as most villagers anticipated. They were not happy with how the logic unfolded, as they perceived that only charcoal producers and the VNRC members get bigger shares. They demanded equity in the distribution of costs and benefits, a common claim wherever there is primacy of distributive dimension (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018). They were also troubled with how the VNRC failed to deal with other forms of forest encroachments, such as livestock grazing. Zafra-Calvo et al. (2017) note that perception over how conservation impacts are shared amongst social groups is a qualitative indicator for understanding recognition. Here the farmers’ concern is over how their socio-economic statuses (making them incapable of having quick cash access like pastoralists) denied them equitable resource access, a typical concern in distributive dimension (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018). Thus, they wanted the system through which they acquired land in the now VLFR to be recognised and legitimised, hoping that such a process would form a path for changes in the VLUP that would provide them tenure security.

Their appeal for compensation conveys concerns over prior unequal power relations and mitigation to a conservation cost – the loss of land. They were distressed that the VNRC and village leadership brushed aside pre-existing land governance that was centred on powers of a former village chairperson and that the VNRC used utilitarian distributive justice to dismiss their demands. Their compensation demand exposed unfair sharing of conservation burdens that the SCP had brought to individuals, as the project supposedly embraced collective benefits. Compensation was thus their mechanism to claim equity in both resource access and distribution of the costs of greening charcoal. In empirical approaches to environmental justice, compensation is documented as an effort to mitigate costs and losses that conservation initiatives bring (He and Sikor, 2015). However, as an agent of the utilitarian distributive logic, the VNRC disregarded prior power dynamics that shaped individuals’ capabilities to contest poor land governance. The former chairperson’s perceived ‘higher’ social status as a first-comer and husband to a local healer deterred farmers’ efforts to hold him accountable.

Furthermore, the farmers raised matters of procedural justice in the project. They held the VNRC accountable for the eviction, the poor conflict resolution process, and failure to fulfil initial commitments. These are some of the elements that define procedural justice (see Table 1). The farmers exhibited strong concerns over the initial promise that they could remain in the forest, and how the VNRC and the project failed to fulfil it. Failure to fulfil institutional commitments is a qualitative indicator of a lack of procedural justice (Dawson et al., 2017). The farmers assumed that if the SCP officials talked about having accumulated forest patches to make the VLFR, then it was possible to have cultivated land amidst miombo conservation. Chidumayo (2017) shows that miombo are products of successive cycles of cutting, clearing, and burning for cultivation and livestock grazing over thousands of years. Recent research confirms their assumption, as Wintle et al. (2019) show that even small patches of natural habitat play a vital role in conservation. In addition, the farmers were concerned with the rejection of their request to convene an extraordinary village assembly as the Court instructed. In Tanzanian village land politics, the assembly is a political platform for full and effective participation and deliberation of all relevant actors in decision-making (Greco, 2016). Their dissatisfaction with how the VNRC and village leadership ignored the Court’s decision to grant the assembly authority to deliberate over the conflict insinuated discontent over how decision-making unfolded, an indicator for inequitable procedural justice (Zafra-Calvo et al., 2017).

Therefore, this analysis goes further than discussing overlapping notions of justice (e.g. He and Sikor, 2015) or interrelations of the notions (e.g. Fisher et al., 2018) to highlight that social justice in rural areas is a complex mix of poor governance and variegated responses to conservation projects due to locally changing justice claims and notions. The disregard of the preceding land allocation system and the former chairperson’s power abuse highlight that context matters. Its illegality presents a situation where victims of his abuse cannot claim legal land occupation on either statutory or customary bases. Recent reviews of PES literature show that contextual factors such as prior governance compliance, property rights regime, inequalities, and resource struggles matter in determining outcomes of PES interventions (Börner et al., 2017). For the green economy interventions that target environmental resources for efficient use in sustainable production, attention to past and present social, governance, and cultural contexts; power imbalances; and variegated capabilities of individuals to participate and influence decisions are therefore fundamental.

These findings are in agreement with Martin (2017), namely that achieving equitable conservation interventions requires more than just considering livelihood benefits and the greater societal good. This narrow utilitarian conception produces only a partial understanding of conservation impacts that are locally valued or contested. It precludes a clear understanding of a substantive justice consideration and the multifaceted relations within societies and between people and natural resources, and thus conceals forms of injustices that are not expressed in economic terms (Schlosberg, 2007; Walker, 2010). Like other critical analysts, I do not disregard livelihood benefits and related distributive concerns. I rather emphasise that livelihood benefits alone cannot determine socially just conservation, as the benefits and their distributive patterns should be thoroughly understood in relation to other locally valued interests of fair capability, procedure, and recognition (cf. Martin, 2017). My analysis of the SCP’s conservation–farming conflict illustrates how the project’s utilitarian distributive justice concerns contradict with some local contexts and justice claims, leading to farmers’ loss of land and their covert resistance to the project. Despite social justice and consideration of critical livelihoods being key features of the ‘green economy’ agenda (UNEP, 2011), in practice, its aligned interventions repeat tendencies of reproducing social injustices for the greater good, like the older ICDP approaches. By sticking with the one-dimensional utilitarian distributive conception, the agenda thus offers little insight into the way in which concerns for locally valued interests and aspirations for fair procedure and recognition would produce socially just conservation.

Broadly, I demonstrate the analytical value of the multidimensional justice framework in understanding evolutions of resource use conflicts and how to resolve them by paying particular attention to pluralistic conceptions of what does and does not matter to rural individuals. I argue that conflicts arising in implementation of conservation interventions result from differences in justice notions. I highlight the social injustices that may prevail in Tanzanian villages containing open area forests, as many villages still lack planned land uses (Huggins, 2018). These areas offer spare lands for future communal and individual uses, bringing them in conflict with the green economy agenda that prioritises forest protection. This makes it essential to fully understand people’s justice claims and notions, and prior socio-cultural and political contexts to resource use and governance. I thus argue that considering individuals’ multiple justice expressions, in relation to past and present uneven socio-cultural and political conditions, exposes locally valued and contested conservation impacts. I show how different individuals and groups experience justice and argue their own justice claims as individuals or collectively. This allows richer understandings of their responses to the green economy-aligned conservation interventions and their outcomes. In practice, the understandings can guide more equitable conservation, especially as the interventions increasingly target environmental resources critical for rural livelihoods.

Highlights

Case illustrating how older one-dimensional conservation logics facilitate socially unjust ‘newer’ green economy-aligned conservation is presented

Analytical value of a multidimensional justice framework in understanding evolutions of resource use conflicts is highlighted

Demonstration that the framework can help to assess and reframe environmental conservation interventions is provided

Contribution to political ecology literature on empirical analyses of rural people’s justice conceptions in conservation is made

Argument that being attentive to multiple contextually claimed justice notions for socially just conservation is raised

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I am thankful to Samantha Cunningham for succinct feedback and editing support as I am to Amber Huff, Martina Locher, and Yolanda Ariadne Collins for constructive comments that improved the final version. I am also grateful to three anonymous reviewers for their valuable criticisms and suggestions. Finally, I am appreciative to the journal’s editorial process. The remaining errors and inaccuracies are, of course, my own.

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: Funding for this research came from the Swiss Government Excellence PhD Scholarship, the Human Geography Unit at the Department of Geography, University of Zurich, the ESRC funded project (ES/I021620/1) ‘Governing the Land-Water-Environment Nexus in Southern Africa’, and the Research Council of Norway funded project (Number 250975) ‘Greenmentality: A Political ecology of the Green economy in the Global South’.

Notes

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