This
article was submited by a
reader as a contrasting point of view to last issue's "The
Internationlization of Amazonia".
___________
Put reason aside, for a
moment, and imagine this: American students are taught that the
Amazon should be taken away from Brazil and made into an "international
reserve" under United Nations administration. United States
Army special forces are training in Florida to seize control of
that zone once it is established. And, to accelerate the process,
Harvard University advocates the immediate dismemberment
of Brazil.
All
of this, of course, is pure imagination. The Brazilian imagination.
From
birth, Brazilians are taught that "the Amazon is ours."
But their government has never been able to exercise effective
sovereignty over the region, which in any case remains an exotic
mystery to most Brazilians. The result is a national paranoia:
a conviction that outsiders — especially the United States,
with its checkered history in Latin America — envy Brazil's
ownership of the world's largest tropical forest and want it for
themselves.
Since
late last year, suspicions have been running unusually high because
of a spurious map that appeared on Internet sites here and was
quickly accepted as real by newspapers and radio talk show hosts.
Taken from what was said to be a junior high school textbook used
in the United States, the map claims that Americans have a "special
mission" to wrest the Amazon from the eight "unintelligent
and primitive" South American nations that control it.
Though
the text is clearly a forgery (it is riddled with grammatical
and spelling errors that no native English speaker would make),
the controversy continues. Some Brazilians say the C.I.A. fabricated
the map to discredit those who would defend the Amazon from foreign
interlopers. Others don't care whether the map is authentic.
"The
map may be a falsification, but that the United States covets
the Amazon and wants to eliminate Brazil's sovereignty is beyond
dispute," said Rubim Aquino, a high school
history teacher here. He said he emphasizes that message to his
students "whenever the opportunity arises."
The
area the Brazilian government defines as "Amazonia Legal"
occupies 60 percent of the country's territory. But it is home
to fewer than 10 percent of its 175 million people. And most of
the population lives south of the river, along the coast, and
has never visited the region.
"The
southerner doesn't know the Amazon and disdains the region and
its people," said Lucio Flavio Pinto, a
native of the Amazon state of Pará who is editor of "Amazon
Agenda," the leading newsletter about the region. "There
is a tendency to transfer responsibility for problems to foreigners,
so as to placate a guilty conscience and shift blame away from
a national state" that has long treated the area as a stepchild.
Seen
from the south, the Amazon seems a cornucopia of easily extracted
oil, minerals, timber, medicinal plants and other riches. The
harsh reality, though, is that the few projects foreigners have
undertaken in the region, from the Ford Company's
Fordlandia rubber plantation to Volkswagen's
cattle ranch, have all failed because operating costs in the Amazon
are so high and infrastructure so weak.
ONE
of the great villains of Brazilian history is Henry Wickham,
a British naturalist who is accused of having stolen rubber seeds
a century ago and spirited them off to Malaysia. That led to the
collapse of an Amazon rubber boom that had financed the building
of an opera house in Manaus and allowed a few Brazilian tycoons
to send their laundry to be cleaned in Europe, but had also enslaved
thousands of rubber tappers.
What
Brazilians still cannot bring themselves to admit is that Wickham
had obtained legal permits to export the seeds. As Roberto
Santos's "Economic History of the Amazon" and
other books acknowledge, British and American companies sought
to shift rubber production elsewhere because the Brazilian system
of production was inefficient and had roused the ire of antislavery
campaigners.
Today,
the focus of Brazilian suspicions has shifted from rubber to biotechnology.
To cite just one example, the country is rife with rumors that
the National Cancer Institute in Washington has
clandestinely sent bio-prospectors to steal medicinal plants.
(The institute dismisses such tales.)
Such
mythmaking helps explain the widespread acceptance given to the
notorious map. It appears to have originated on a Web site operated
by a right-wing nationalist military group, but Brazil's left
has also shown a penchant for Amazonian fantasy.
At
the moment, one favorite theory has to do with "Plan Colombia,"
the American effort to bolster Colombia's fight against drug traffickers
and Marxist guerrillas. Leftist groups here say the real objective
is to give the United States a foothold that would allow it to
seize the Brazilian Amazon and thus command the southern flank
of Venezuela's leftist president, Hugo Chávez.
Then
there is Sivam, a $1.5 billion Amazon radar system
being installed by an American company. Though the project will
enhance Brazil's sovereignty over the region by allowing it to
track and intercept planes smuggling drugs, arms and gold, many
here are certain that its actual purpose is to allow the United
States to gather information by satellite about oil and mineral
resources it wants to exploit.
Some
of these accusations are undoubtedly spreading because Brazil
is in the throes of a presidential election campaigns, in which
calls to defend the Amazon always please the crowds.
Unfortunately
for Americans, there is probably little that can be done to convince
Brazilians that such accounts are simply not true. As Mr.
Pinto noted, the Amazon has the name it does because
of a delusion: the first Europeans to visit thought they saw one-breasted
woman warriors, like those in Greek mythology, on horseback along
the bank of the river. "The Amazon has always been fertile
ground for fables, which gives it a prominent place in the collective
unconscious of this country," he said. "People create
phantoms, and it does no good to refute them."