Mexico in Focus: Political, Environmental and Social Issues.

Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy LATIN AMERICAN POLITICAL, ECONOMIC, AND SECURITY ISSUES MEXICO IN FOCUS POLITICAL, ENVIRONMENTAL AND SOCIAL ISSUES No part of this digital document may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means. The publisher has taken reasonable care in the preparation of this digital document, but makes no expressed or implied warranty of any kind and assumes no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for incidental or consequential damages in connection with or arising out of information contained herein. This digital document is sold with the clear understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering legal, medical or any other professional services. Complimentary Contributor Copy LATIN AMERICAN POLITICAL, ECONOMIC, AND SECURITY ISSUES Additional books in this series can be found on Nova‘s website under the Series tab. Additional e-books in this series can be found on Nova‘s website under the e-book tab. Complimentary Contributor Copy LATIN AMERICAN POLITICAL, ECONOMIC, AND SECURITY ISSUES MEXICO IN FOCUS POLITICAL, ENVIRONMENTAL AND SOCIAL ISSUES JOSÉ GALINDO EDITOR New York Complimentary Contributor Copy Copyright © 2015 by Nova Science Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, electrostatic, magnetic, tape, mechanical photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the Publisher. For permission to use material from this book please contact us: [email protected] NOTICE TO THE READER The Publisher has taken reasonable care in the preparation of this book, but makes no expressed or implied warranty of any kind and assumes no responsibility for any errors or omissions. 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It is sold with the clear understanding that the Publisher is not engaged in rendering legal or any other professional services. If legal or any other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent person should be sought. FROM A DECLARATION OF PARTICIPANTS JOINTLY ADOPTED BY A COMMITTEE OF THE AMERICAN BAR ASSOCIATION AND A COMMITTEE OF PUBLISHERS. Additional color graphics may be available in the e-book version of this book. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Mexico in focus : political, environmental and social issues / editor, José Galindo. pages cm. -- (Latin American political, economic, and security issues) ISBN:  (eBook) 1. Environmental policy--Mexico. 2. Mexico--Environmental conditions 3. Mexico--Social policy. 4. Mexico--Social conditions. Galindo, José, editor of compilation. GE190.M6M494 2014 320.60972--dc23 2014037734 Published by Nova Science Publishers, Inc. † New York Complimentary Contributor Copy CONTENTS Preface vii Environment Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 1 Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico until the Nineteenth Century Germán Vergara A Tale of Two Valleys: An Examination of the Hydrological Union of the Mezquital Valley and the Basin of Mexico Jonathan Graham Conservation Challenges in Mexico: Developing a Protection Strategy for the Threatened Sand Dunes of Coauhila‘s La Laguna Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden, Mark Fisher, Gamaliel Castañeda and Ulises Romero-Méndez Chapter 4 An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez Chapter 5 Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula: Diversity and Ecology Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. 3 31 81 99 119 Chapter 6 Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona 141 Chapter 7 Land, Forest, and Pueblos in the Meseta Purépecha, 1869-1911 Fernando Pérez Montesinos 177 Complimentary Contributor Copy vi Contents Social Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 197 The Impact of Labor Regulation and Movements on the Mexican Industry: The Case of a Textile Mill in Central Mexico in the Twentieth Century José Galindo ―Clubismo‖ in Post-Revolutionary Mexico: An overview of the emergence of service and social clubs in Puebla and Tijuana, 1920-1960 David Tamayo A Universal Social Protection System: An Instrument of Public Policy to Reach Greater Social Mobility in Mexico Roberto Vélez-Grajales and Juan Enrique Huerta Wong Chapter 11 Old-Age Income Protection in Mexico F. Alejandro Villagómez Chapter 12 The Origin of the National Human Rights Commission in 1990 within the Latin American democratization process: Institution of the Mexican Society or of the Mexican State? José Galindo Chapter 13 El Agua de la Revolución: The Historical Evolution and Devolution of a Socio-Environmental Right in Mexico Mikael Wolfe Political The Return of the PRI and the Future of Democracy in Mexico Alberto J. Olvera Chapter 15 The Evolution of the Legislative Output of Mexican Presidents under Divided Government: The Case of Felipe Calderón (2006-2012) Germán Stuht Chapter 17 217 237 255 267 289 307 Chapter 14 Chapter 16 199 309 337 The Legacies of Authoritarianism: Opposition Parties and Their Electoral Strategies in Mexico José Antonio Hernández Company 369 Mexican Democracy‘s Awkward Partner: Televisa as a de facto Power Andrew Paxman 393 Index 409 Complimentary Contributor Copy PREFACE The analyzed topics in this book include different social, political, environmental and economic aspects of contemporary Mexico. To fulfill this purpose more than twenty recognized authors, from diverse national and international institutions, participate. These authors, who are experts in their respective topics, are looking to find specific particularities of present-day Mexico, and to provide valuable insights into the profound changes this country has experimented over recent decades. In this sense, it is no coincidence that the subjects studied in these chapters cover multiple areas within different academic disciplines. The ongoing affairs in Mexico leave no room for a volume focused just on one aspect. In addition, the structure followed in this book makes the reader aware that each one of the topics complements the others in some way. The environment is one of the areas of most concern in recent times. The rapid and seemingly never-ending urbanization of the Basin of Mexico represents one of the deepest transformations of a natural region in the world. Germán Vergara takes us into a journey of several centuries to understand the very diverse sources and uses of energy that have shaped the new face of this Basin, and that have been given by the different population groups, who have settled there through the times. In turn, Jonathan Graham covers the hydrological question and explains the great interdependence between the Basin and the adjacent Valle del Mezquital, which maintains its agrarian status thanks to the sewage wastes of the city. He guides us through a broadly documented research that shows the many connections between both regions and the ecological problems that have arisen, in particular because of the management of sewage waters. Taking into account the great diversity of natural regions in Mexico, some different environmental questions in other zones are considered as well in this book. We have an interesting chapter, coordinated by Cristina García-De La Peña, covering the topic of the sand dunes in Coahuila. Not only do the authors explain the difficulties of preserving sand dunes in this region, but also they develop an extensive research about the risks that an endangered species, the Fringe-toed lizard, is experiencing. According to the authors, there are not enough strict policies in the Mexican territory that protect this region in danger; much less on adopting ecosystem-based protection. In another chapter, VegaCendejas and Hernández analyze the Yucatán Peninsula and its incredible estuarine and coastal biodiversity, and they conclude that the increase in urbanization, fishery and tourist activities need to be regulated urgently. Fernando Pérez, discussing the reparto and its effects on the Meseta Purépecha, makes a complete recount of the agrarian reforms in the state of Michoacán. Serrano-Arellano, Chávez-Servín and Dávila-Núñez speak of the way the Complimentary Contributor Copy viii José Galindo Mexican policies come up short when it comes to a cleaner environment in the whole country. They stress the need for awareness on the many pollution issues that Mexico suffers, and they provide an explanation based on a historical and cultural interpretation of the different ways in which people in Mexico have related themselves with the environment. Lastly, GuevaraGarcía and Montiel-Corona participate with a solid chapter on the conditions of recycling as an alternative and more ecologically-conscious way for dealing with the enormous waste management problem that is faced in large metropolitan territories in Mexico. Mikael Wolfe‘s research serves as a bridge between the environmental aspects and the analysis of some very relevant socioeconomic topics. He takes the readers back to the water issue, which has been a big social problem in this country, and he makes a succinct but thorough historical analysis of the way the social need for clean water has been handled by different administrations. From a historical perspective, José Galindo explains the way in which labor regulation and movements shaped the Mexican industry of twentieth-century Mexico, through the case of a textile mill established in Mexico City: La Magdalena. In another chapter, this same author provides an insight on the evolution of the protection of human rights in Mexico and its benefits to Mexican citizens. In this chapter, among other topics, he also exposes the problems that arise from the excessive federal funds granted each year to the National Human Rights Commission, which reveals the main weaknesses of this institution in its internal structure. David Tamayo, in turn, addresses a totally different aspect of the social life of the country. His article deals with Clubismo, which can be roughly translated as a tendency of social association within private clubs and organizations, taking place mainly between the early 1920s and the 1960s in Mexico. The Clubismo subject is not separated from the religious aspect of the two cities that Tamayo analyses: Puebla and Tijuana. Tamayo shows the overall picture where these two cities got to be prominent in the Clubismo trend. Finally, this book includes two different perspectives on sensitive social issues: Vélez-Grajales and Huerta make a compelling case proposing that a universal social protection system could be an instrument to achieve greater social mobility in Mexico; and Alejandro Villagómez states that one great problem striking the elderly population in Mexico is the limitations of old age income protection in the country. He shows the changes that have been taking place in the last decades and the legal terms regarding this topic, which have been in constant modification. On the political subject we have four important contributions. In two different chapters, José Antonio Hernández-Company and Alberto J. Olvera speak of the PRI regime. Hernández-Company exposes the electoral strategies that opposition parties developed in the 1990s while trying to finally overturn the PRI regime. He also analyzes with precise data the way in which these strategies began to converge and became more pragmatic as the conquest of power for all political parties seemed more feasible. Olvera, in turn, makes a recount of the main political events that have occurred in Mexico throughout its transition to democracy since the 1990s. In his chapter, Olvera seeks to establish the implications that the return of the PRI regime has had over the incipient Mexican democracy. Germán Stuht on the other hand analyzes the Felipe Calderón administration, a government from the PAN, to address another significant change that came with democracy: the decline in the capacity of Mexican presidents to promote legislation. Andrew Paxman states the importance of the telecommunications giant Televisa. He recounts the great influence that this company has had over recent Mexican governmental administrations, and the conditions that have led to the passing of favorable legislation for it. Complimentary Contributor Copy Preface ix The importance of this book is to capture and portray some aspects of contemporary Mexico in its whole; giving every reader a chance to understand and participate in the conflicts that englobe the Mexican society on a daily basis. It is a smooth read for a book with so much information, coming from distinct authors and disciplines. On behalf of the authors, who have dedicated hours of research into these chapters, we hope you enjoy reading each of them. Finally, we also wish to acknowledge the valuable assistance provided by Ángeles Magaña, Jessica Arroyo and Germán Stuht in preparing the final manuscripts for publication. José Galindo (General Editor) Research Scholar University of California, Berkeley, CA, US Department of History Universidad Veracruzana, México Instituto de Investigaciones Histórico-Sociales Tel: 00 5255 228 108 3070 00 5255 5585 1277 E-mail: [email protected] Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy ENVIRONMENT Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 1 ENERGY, ENVIRONMENT, AND SOCIETY IN THE BASIN OF MEXICO UNTIL THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Germán Vergara* University of California, Berkeley, CA, US ABSTRACT The transition from an energy regime based on biomass and animal muscle to another based on fossil fuels is an epochal transformation whose importance is arguably on a par with the Neolithic transition from hunter and gathering to agriculture as the basis of human existence. Like societies elsewhere, inhabitants of central Mexico relied throughout their history on the sun‘s energy locked up in plants and animals for their livelihood. This fundamental socioenvironmental arrangement, what historian Fernand Braudel called the ―biological ancien régime,‖ persisted in Mexico until the late nineteenth century, when the limits of the old energy regime began to be overcome through the simultaneous expansion in the use of organic energy sources such as wood, charcoal, and hydropower; the adoption of the steam engine, and the increasing use of fossil fuels. This chapter traces the basic patterns of the old energy regime in the basin of Mexico since the arrival of human beings to the nineteenth century and establishes a biophysical baseline for the region in the middle of the nineteenth century, exploring the limits and possibilities inherent to an economy based on biomass as well as human and animal muscle. Keywords: Environment, energy source, energy regime, agriculture, industry, water, wood * [email protected]. Complimentary Contributor Copy 4 Germán Vergara INTRODUCTION In the 1850s, the basin of Mexico was an agrarian society. By the turn of the twentieth century, the region, where Mexico City is located, had undergone a momentous transformation, embarking on a transition to an industrial society that continues to this day. The reasons for such change, in some ways similar to changes happening all over the world at roughly the same time, are complex, and different explanations have been offered over the years. But novel forms of appropriating nature and the use of new sources of energy played an important role. For millennia, the human occupants of the basin, like humans elsewhere, only had access to the energy locked up in plants and animals. Local societies lived within the constraints imposed by the amount of solar energy stored as biomass or as animal tissue (Smil, 1994; McNeill, 2001; Sieferle, 2001; Christian, 2004; Crosby, 2006; Burke & Pomeranz, 2009; Smil, 2010). This changed by the late nineteenth century, when the limits of the old energy regime were first expanded and then overcome through a combination of increased use of hydropower, biomass, and limited amounts of fossil fuels, coal in particular. In this sense, the basin‘s entire history from the arrival of humans to the late nineteenth century can be conceptualized as a series of attempts to expand the region‘s energy limits. These attempts were never fully successful or permanent, which led to fluctuations and periods of social and environmental rearrangements. I view this process as a kind of historical palimpsest, with every configuration leaving an environmental imprint upon which the next one developed.1 How did this happen? The transition in Western Europe and the U.S. from an agrarian to an industrialized society has been described as a succession of phases, each characterized by a predominant energy source (Cipolla, 1970; Sieferle, 2001; Wrigley, 2010; Kander, Malanima, & Warde, 2013; Fischer-Kowalski & Haberl, 2007; Nye, 1999; Melosi, 1985; Klein, 2007). The first encompassed roughly the period from the late eighteenth century to the middle of the nineteenth century (in the case of the U.S., from the early nineteenth to the 1880s), during which certain forms of economic activity such as transportation, industry, and commercial agriculture gradually moved from biomass to coal as their primary source of energy. The second phase lasted from the mid-nineteenth until the early twentieth century. Throughout this period, the use of coal consolidated and spread to most human activities in the region. The third phase is one of almost complete predominance of fossil fuels in all aspects of life, with oil replacing coal as the unquestionable basis of human society. It consolidated around the 1920s in the United States and in the 1950s in Western Europe and Japan. It is important to underline that there was substantial overlap between these phases, with the above periodization indicating only general trends. Biomass, for example, continues to coexist with fossil fuels to this day, although it stopped being the most important source of fuel a long time ago (Kander et al., 2013). The three-stage model described above helps to understand the process of energy transition in central Mexico, although there are some differences. Unlike the so-called core industrialized nations, central Mexico and other Latin American regions seem to have gone through somewhat different phases. Some areas transitioned in a short time from biomass 1 Biomass may be defined ―as any energy source based on biological materials produced by photosynthesis – for example wood, sugar beets, rapeseed oil, crop wastes, dung, urban organic wastes, processed sewage, etc.‖ (Avery, 2007, p. 130). Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 5 directly to oil without going through a phase of coal predominance (Rubio, 2010). Other regions relied for a relatively extended period of time on a combination of energy sources before finally moving to oil as the main source of energy, with hydropower and biomass playing a key role in the early stages of industrialization (Brannstrom, 2005; Dean, 1997, 1997). The basin of Mexico seems to have followed such a path. (Table 1) Table 1. Alternative Paths for Energy Transitions English Midlands Early and long transition from biomass to coal (17th-19th centuries) Long period of reliance on coal (mid-18th century-post WWII) Late transition from coal to oil (post-WWII) U.S. Northeast Later and shorter transition from biomass to coal (1820s1880s) Shorter period of reliance on coal (1880s-post-WWII) Late transition from coal to oil (post-WWII) Central Mexico Later and limited transition from biomass to coal (1870s-1910) No reliance on coal Quick transition to oil (1900s-1920s) Before turning to the environmental history of the basin, however, a word on some concepts used throughout this chapter is necessary. Throughout most of their history (around 150,000 years), humans lived under one basic energy regime. Some authors refer to it as the solar energy regime (Sieferle, 2001), others as the biological ancién regime (Braudel, 1972), the somatic energy regime (McNeill, 2001), or the organic energy regime (Wrigley, 2010). All four terms are useful, but they emphasize different aspects. The terms ―biological‖ and ―organic‖ underline the importance of organic components such as plants and animals for the societies that depended on them, but have the disadvantage of suggesting that the energy regime based on fossil fuels under which we live is less organic. This is misleading because both coal and oil contain organic materials as they are derived from fossilized vegetable matter. ―Somatic‖ has the advantage of bringing attention to the importance of human and animal muscle to deliver work, but overlooks the relevance of hydraulic and eolic (wind) power for some societies living under this regime. Although ultimately the source of energy for any system (including the one based on fossil fuels) is always the sun, the term ―solar‖ avoids the problems of the other two, and has the benefit of reminding the reader of the nonfossil-fuel basis of these societies. Thus I will use the concept of ―solar energy regime‖ throughout this chapter. But what is energy? It is a particularly difficult concept to define. Perhaps the best way to think about it is as a flow. Through thermonuclear reactions, the sun radiates thermal energy to the earth, where plants (autotrophs or primary converters) transform it into chemical energy, building the basis of almost all life processes on our planet. Other organisms such as animals (heterotrophs or secondary converters) consume plants (or other animals) and transform chemical energy into heat necessary to sustain life (Christian, 2004; Odum & Odum, 1976). They also convert a small percentage of this energy into mechanical energy, that is, work. It is important to underline that until the advent of the steam engine in the eighteenth century, the only way to transform the solar energy stored in plants into work was by turning it first into biological converters such as draft animals or humans (Smil, 1994). The use of fossil fuels in combination with inanimate converters like the steam engine and later on the internal combustion engine has thus dramatically increased the amount of Complimentary Contributor Copy 6 Germán Vergara mechanical energy available to humans. These new technologies unlocked the accumulated solar energy stored for millions of years underground in the form of coal, oil, and, more recently, natural gas (McNeill, 2001). The purpose of this chapter is to outline the environmental history of the basin of Mexico from the arrival of humans around 10,000 years ago to the 1850s. In order to understand the ways in which the energy transition shaped the relationship between humans and the environment in the basin of Mexico it is necessary to describe the main traits that characterized the old energy regime based on biomass. I pay particular attention to forms of resource use while trying to keep an eye on general population trends and transportation systems. From 10,000 BCE to 1519 Humans arrived when the ice began to retreat. The massive ice sheets that covered much of North America during extended periods of the Pleistocene started to recede around 18,000 years ago. Periods of ice expansion and contraction occurred erratically over the next millennia. At some point, waves of hunter-gatherer bands began crossing Beringia, the Alaskan-Siberian passage that was formed when the sea levels dropped some 100 meters during the last glaciation. During one of the periods of contraction, the warming was substantial enough to allow for a huge corridor to form in what is now western Canada between the Laurentide Ice Sheet on the east and the Cordilleran Ice Sheet on the west. Humans used the corridor in their southbound migration. Probably following the megafauna they were used to hunting, especially mammoth and mastodon, humans trekked down into the tundra, the grasslands, and the woodlands of North America. Nobody knows with certainty the date, but a majority of experts believe that the presence of humans in the Americas dates to around twelve to thirteen thousand years ago. Although it has been posited that human groups may have lived in some parts of the western hemisphere for tens of thousands of years, the evidence for this is fragmentary and controversial (Mithen, 2004). The Americas were in a real sense not only a New World, but also the Last World.2 Within a few hundred years and covering approximately 100 km per year, huntergathering human groups expanded throughout the Americas, eventually reaching Tierra del Fuego around 11,000 years ago (Mithen, 2004). It is likely that these groups followed routes along the west coast of present-day United States and then continued southward along the Pacific coast of Mexico, with other groups perhaps descending along the Gulf coast (Acosta Ochoa, Guillermo, 2012). From there they climbed into the central highlands of Mexico, with solid evidence of human presence in what is now the basin of Mexico dating back to 9,000 2 Humans settled Europe, the last region in the Old World to have a permanent human presence, around 40,000 years ago. A heated debate still surrounds the dating of the first artifacts (Mithen, 2004, pp. 210-300). The ice sheets and Beringia finally succumbed with the onset of Holocene around 12,000 years ago. The Holocene is simply the last one in a series of warming cycles that seem to have recurred every 100,000 years or so for the past 2 million years. As many scholars have pointed out, the entirety of human history since the transition to agriculture has taken place within the remarkably stable climatic conditions that have marked the Holocene. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 7 BCE. The basin of Mexico shows uninterrupted human occupation ever since (Niederberger C, 1979).3 The basin of Mexico is an enclosed region of around 7,000 square kilometers with no natural outlet for its lakes and rivers (Ezcurra, 1999). It is located at the heart of a belt of volcanic ranges that contain a series of fertile valleys stretching from the Pacific coastline to what are today the uplands of Veracruz. The antiquity of its first human settlements and their permanence suggests that human beings considered the area a particularly prized territory. Perhaps the search for obsidian, an extremely valuable commodity since prehistoric times and present in the basin around Otumba, initially attracted people interested in supplying the trade network that existed between the central highlands and the Veracruz lowlands (Wolf, 1976). The basin had a dense human population since at least the third millennium BCE. Those first inhabitants took advantage of the diverse ecology of the region, engaging in such activities as fishing, hunting, and collecting wild foods. Over time, and perhaps due to population growth and increased scarcity of resources, these hunter-gatherers embarked on a prolonged transition to producing their own food. Pollen samples suggest that around 1,000 BCE, most local inhabitants were cultivating maize, squash, and beans, the dietary trinity of so many Native Americans (Murphy, 2007; Almeida-Lenero, Hooghiemstra, Cleef, & van Geel, 2005). For decades, scholars viewed the transition from hunter-gathering lifestyles to agriculturalism and pastoralism as a relatively quick process whose incalculable benefits were so obvious that it had to be the result of human genius, of an ―invention‖ (Childe, 1964). Archaeologists also believed that the production of their food with its concomitant need to take care of their crops led human populations to sedentism. More recent research has changed this picture dramatically. The so-called transition seems to have been an extremely long process, sometimes lasting thousands of years, during which human populations went from collecting wild plants and seeds to increasingly tending to them (Smil, 2008; Kennett, 2012). After millennia of repeatedly selecting individual plants with certain characteristics (such as larger seeds and the tendency to keep their seeds, instead of shedding them, like most wild varieties do), humans inadvertently ―domesticated‖ some of these plants, which became incapable of seeding themselves, instead relying on the harvester to do so (Murphy, 2007; Christian, 2004). The ―domestication‖ of maize and beans seems to have followed such a path (Lentz, 2000; Piperno & Smith, 2012). The notion that agricultural production went hand in hand with sedentism has also been challenged. Sedentism apparently occurred in many parts before the ―transition‖ to agriculture had taken place, with hunter-gatherer groups settling permanent bases in particularly rich areas that provided abundant supplies of food all year round, like coastal areas and lakes. As Denis Murphy explains, ―[f]ar from a sudden ‗agricultural revolution‘… it appears that there was a developmental continuum over tens of millennia during which some human groups and certain plants coevolved into a series of mutually beneficial associations‖ (Murphy, 2007, p. 8). The ―transition‖ to agriculture in the basin of Mexico befits such description. Agriculture became dominant in the region late compared to the Middle East, China, or northwestern India, but relatively early in relation to other regions in the Americas. In fact, for millennia, 3 Still unexplained is the presence of humans in the Southern Cone at a very early date, for example in Monte Verde, whose remains have been dated by radiocarbon to 13,000 BC. This suggests the possibility of seafaring Neolithic populations (Mithen, 2004, pp. 221-285). Complimentary Contributor Copy 8 Germán Vergara and throughout the pre-Columbian period, hunting and gathering coexisted with agricultural production in the region. Nonetheless, agricultural production seems to have been the sine qua non of urbanization and the emergence of the first city-states. The development of highly productive agricultural techniques represented the basis on which urban civilization flourished in the basin of Mexico for the next millennium and a half. These techniques included a famous form of wetland agriculture (chinampas) and terracing. Archaeological evidence suggests that the key traits that made chinampa agriculture so productive were already in place in the first centuries of our era (E. McLung de Tapia, 2000). Chinampas consisted of a shrewd adaptation to riverine and lakeshore conditions. The system involved building rectangular plots of land about 100m in length by 10m in width on marshy terrain or along lakeshores. Farmers would weave a cane or wooden structure inside of which layers of aquatic vegetation and lake mud were piled on top of each other. The result was a moist and rich soil where the ―three sisters‖ of maize, beans, and squash favored by indigenous peoples across the Americas were planted (Lentz, 2000; Rojas Rabiela, 1991; Whitmore & Turner, 2001). The system was labor intensive and required a sophisticated organization of large populations, but if well managed its rewards were worth the effort: an average of two harvests per year without the need to fallow the land at any time. The fertility of the soil was maintained by replenishing it with lake silt and with night soil (human excrement). The inhabitants of the botttomlands of the basin of Mexico erected their civilizations on top of the deposited silt in the lakes washed away every year from the surrounding mountains, much in the same way that the eroded soils of the Ethiopian highlands were carried thousands of kilometers downriver to the Nile delta year after year, thus ―subsidizing‖ Egyptian agriculture and civilization for thousands of years (McNeill & Winiwarter, 2006). The major threat to soil fertility was salinization, but if kept in check, the system was perhaps indefinitely sustainable. Although much less famous than its wetland counterpart, terraced agriculture played an important role in the emergence of dense urban settlements in the basin, in particular that of Teotihuacan. Teotihuacan was big. At its height around the sixth century it had a population of about 125,000, only surpassed globally by T‘ang Pekin with a million inhabitants, and Byzantium with 400,000 (Wolf, 1976). The city was at the center of a vast trade network that extended across Mesoamerica reaching towards the south to Tikal (in present-day Guatemala) and other important city-states in the Maya lowlands, the Veracruz lowlands to the east, and coastal populations along the Pacific to the west. Located on the northeastern fringe of the basin of Mexico, Teotihuacan was built on a semiarid area with no lakes and only a few seasonal rivers. Their solution to the resulting water deficiencies consisted of creating an impressive infrastructure of terraces on the hillslopes where maize, beans, and squash were cultivated. Terraced agriculture prevented soil erosion and allowed for irrigation, thus increasing productivity. Teotihuacan was completely abandoned around the eighth century CE. There has been much speculation about the causes behind its demise, prompting some authors to suggest that the city‘s inhabitants may have overexploited their environment (Parsons & Sugiura, 2012; Sugiyama, 2012). Although it is likely that other factors such as changing weather patterns played a role in the downfall of Teotihuacán, there is no doubt that the city‘s history represents a high water mark in terms of environmental change in the basin of Mexico. Another occurred in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In few other time periods did humans do so much to modify Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 9 and shape local environments. At the heart of this transformation was the construction of Mexico-Tenochtitlan on a marshy island on the western section of Lake Texcoco and its rise as the foremost political and military power in the region (Smith, 2012). Perhaps more than the wooden pillars and artificial foundations that allowed the Mexica to expand the territory of their small island in the lake, it was maize that was the real foundation of the imperial citystate. Maize agriculture profoundly shaped the history of Tenochtitlan and the Mexica city in turn may have been the most important actor in shaping the basin‘s environments at the time (Whitmore & Turner, 2001a; J. R. Sanders, 1991). Under the command of Tenochtitlan, dikes were built that crisscrossed the lakes; huge causeways (that served as dikes themselves) connected the lake city with the mainland; chinampa agriculture reached its maximum extension of 10,000-12,000 hectares, covering a substantial part of the shores of lakes Xochimilco and Chalco as well as the outskirts of the great city itself (W. Sanders, 1976); forests on the nearby mountains and hills were cut down to serve as foundations for urban expansion; rivers were diverted to meet human needs; large numbers of fish, game, and all sorts of animals were hunted, and, so it seems to the modern observer, every single ecological niche was fully exploited. Never before did humans have such a profound effect on local ecology, and it would take four centuries before human intervention in the basin‘s environments reached the same scale.4 By the time the Triple Alliance of Tenochtlitlan, Texcoco, and Tlacopan imposed their dominance in the fourteenth century over the peoples of the valley, over two thirds of human diet in the area came from domesticated plants. The high productivity of local agriculture was able to sustain a large population, with every food producer being capable of feeding ten other people (W. Sanders, 1976). Although food scarcity remained an all too real possibility for local people (illustrated by the great famine of One Rabbit in 1454, the most severe in Mexica history), it was relatively infrequent, at least by the European standards of the time (Stahle et al., 2011). On the eve of the Conquest, some 1.5 million people were living in an area roughly the size of Delaware, one of the highest populations densities in the world at the time. But was Mexica resource use sustainable? There is a long tradition that established a stark opposition between forms of land use before and after the Conquest, emphasizing the ecological virtues of indigenous agriculture and resource use and the rapaciousness of Europeans‘ relationship with nature. Another line of research, perhaps as old as the first one, criticized this perspective as naïve, decrying the portrayal of indigenous peoples as ecologically noble savages and the pre-Columbian Americas as a pristine Eden. Indigenous cultures were seen as being perfectly capable of depleting their own resource base and degrading their own environments (Cook, 1949; Denevan, 1992). More recently even some European forms of land use have been portrayed as a complex of practices that developed over millennia in a sustainable fashion. Such is the case with the so-called ―Mediterranean system‖ of land use, with its complex of cereals and livestock and its practice of land rotation and transhumance. This system is relevant to this study because it was eventually to be transplanted into central Mexico (Butzer, 1992). Rather than blaming the introduction of European livestock and agricultural practices for local environmental degradation, there is 4 On the eve of the Spanish conquest chinampa agriculture in the basin of Mexico covered between half and two thirds of the food requirements of the local population, the rest being met with food imported into the area from tributary regions. At the turn of the sixteenth century only 20 percent of the Mexica population was involved in food production, a percentage that would not be reached again until the nineteenth century in Britain (Murphy, 2007). Complimentary Contributor Copy 10 Germán Vergara growing evidence that a period of increased aridity related to global climate change (the Little Ice Age) combined with the massive native demographic collapse caused by Eurasian diseases possibly had a much larger impact on the environment (Endfield, 2008). Depopulation through disease, exacerbated by brutal treatment of indigenous people by the Spaniards, may have wreaked havoc in sophisticated native systems of land use such as terracing and wetland agriculture that required constant labor inputs and the coordinated activity of thousands of people. Once they fell into disrepair, these systems led to soil erosion. Smallpox, rather than cows or sheep, may have been a more important actor shaping the colonial landscape (Miller, 2007). From 1519 to the Mid-Nineteenth Century In the early sixteenth century, when Hernán Cortés and his soldiers descended the volcanoes Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl, they encountered in the basin of Mexico what can be described as a ―sculptured landscape‖ (Whitmore & Turner, 2001). From their perspective, the Spaniards could capture a vast region at a single glance. To their right, they saw in the foreground the forested foothills of Iztaccíhuatl, dotted with villages from which long columns of smoke rose into the air. Further in the same direction, they saw the contours of larger population centers, included the whitewashed walls of the large city of Texcoco. The surrounding landscape was heavily cultivated with maize fields (milpas), some of them flanked by rows of maguey plants to protect them from wind and soil erosion. In a straight line, some sixty kilometers from where they were standing, Cortés and his followers were confronted with what must have seemed to them as one large lake with a north-to-south orientation, although this body of water was actually a series of five interconnected lakes. The two lakes furthest north (Zumpango and Xaltocan) and the two in the south (Chalco and Xochimilco) were freshwater lakes that, being located at a slightly higher elevation, drained into the saline waters of Lake Texcoco. Crisscrossing the lakes, the newcomers saw a series of structures that functioned simultaneously to connect and divide. There were dikes whose purpose was to regulate the water level of the lakes and prevent flooding as well as to keep Lake Texcoco‘s more saline waters to the east from mixing with its less brackish waters in the west, known as the lake of Mexico. There were also long, wide causeways that linked all the main centers of population to the largest urban conglomeration within the valley, Tenochtitlan. Located on an artificially-expanded island on the western fringe of Lake Texcoco, and with a population of about 200,000 inhabitants, Tenochtitlan was in 1519 one of the largest cities in the world. Further west and south, the Spaniards would have been able to discern the blue contours of a massive mountain range that provided the imperial city with some of its supply of softwoods (Gibson, 1964). What the Spaniards encountered that April day of 1519 was one of the most humanized landscapes in the Americas. And it had been so for centuries, if not millennia (D. L. McLung de Tapia, 2012). The story of the Conquest has been told many times, so here the focus will be on the environmental impact of the event as well as its aftermath (Thomas, 1993). The conquest of Mexico signaled the beginning in the mainland of a process of incalculable consequences for the whole of the Western Hemisphere: the Columbian Exchange (Crosby, 1972). A separation that had lasted since Beringia was covered by the waters of the north Pacific sometime in the tenth millennium BCE abruptly ended on October 12, 1492. This momentous event brought Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 11 into sudden contact not only humans but also a vast array of other organisms, including mammals, plants, and, more ominously, pathogens. The exchange was anything but an equal affair. The influx of organisms from east to west was overwhelmingly larger than that from west to east, with Europeans bringing domesticated animals (horses, cattle, goats, pigs, and sheep), plants (wheat, rye, barley, oranges, sugarcane, coffee, among others), and pathogens (smallpox, influenza, chickenpox, measles, whooping cough). The flow from west to east included maize, potatoes, tomatoes, beans, squash, tobacco, peanuts, cassava, pineapple, peppers, and cotton. American plants would change the world but among the animals domesticated in the Americas, only the turkey became important in other parts of the world. The introduction of Eurasian animal domesticates meant the transfer of herbivores that had no equivalent in the Americas. Although key species for the trajectory of human history such as horses and camels originally evolved in the Americas, they became extinct by the end of the last Ice Age, around 11,000 BC, along with some 70 percent of all large mammals such as the wooly mammoth, the mastodon, the sabre-tooth lion, the giant beaver, two species of giant sloth, the American lion, and a giant armadillo-like animal known as glytpodon (Martin, Wright, 1967). Known as the Pleistocene extinction, the debate over its causes is still hotly contested with some scholars arguing humans played a key role in it and others pointing to climate change as the main culprit (Mithen, 2004). A third possibility is that the combination of a sudden climate change that disrupted the environments upon which these animals depended and the appearance of dangerous human predators brought the so-called megafauna to extinction. Whatever the reason, with the disappearance of some of these large animals, the indigenous population lost a number of potential domesticates, with important long-term consequences for different aspects of their civilizations such as food production and warfare (Diamond, 1998).5 Christopher Columbus brought domesticated animals and plants to Española on his second voyage in 1494. They numbered no more than a few horses, cattle, pigs, sheep, and goats as well as some seeds of wheat, cabbage, and onion, among others. Within a few decades, the population of animal domesticates exploded, becoming thousands of semi-feral animals that roamed the forest (Acosta & O‘Gorman, 1962). Environmental historians have referred to this phenomenon as ―ungulate irruption,‖ a term borrowed from rangeland ecology (Melville, 1994). The concept of ―ungulate irruption‖ describes the population dynamic of an herbivore species when first introduced into a new habitat. The animal population increases dramatically, or ―overshoots,‖ usually by reducing the time between births, taking advantage of the abundance of vegetation that has never been grazed before. The herbivore population, however, soon overgrazes the new territory with the highly nutritious grasses increasingly replaced by degraded and unpalatable varieties, many of which become ―armed‖ with thorns against their browsing enemies. The ungulate population soon crashes, with vast numbers of animals starving to death and reducing the species to a population below the carrying capacity of the local environment. In ecology, ―carrying capacity‖ simply refers to the maximum population that an ecosystem can sustain without its resources being depleted. It has been argued that Spaniards prevented the animal population, sheep in particular, from reestablishing a sustainable population in parts of central Mexico after its numbers 5 An important exception regarding the extinction of megafauna across the Americas is, of course, the camelids of South America, two species of which, the llama and the alpaca, became important domesticates in preColumbian Andean civilizations. Complimentary Contributor Copy 12 Germán Vergara crashed by artificially overstocking the region. This led to the permanent degradation of landscapes, like those of the Valle del Mezquital, which was transformed within a century from a rich agricultural land into an impoverished and arid region covered with scrub vegetation (Melville, 1994). Other scholars have questioned this analysis, criticizing it for using a single factor (overgrazing) to explain a highly complex process such as land degradation. There is evidence, too, that suggests Spaniards were aware of the danger of overgrazing and took steps to mitigate it, particularly through the establishment of transhumance in particular (Butzer & Butzer, 1997). Terrace abandonment due to the native demographic collapse has also been pointed out as an important cause behind massive soil erosion in places like the Valle del Mezquital (Hunter, 2009). Finally, climate change, specifically the relatively cool and dry period known as the Little Ice Age (roughly from 1400 to 1700), may have played an important role in the environmental changes that were attributed to the ―plague‖ of sheep. In any case, there is little doubt that the introduction of livestock into the Americas and into central Mexico deeply shaped the colonial landscape. If the prehistoric extinction of the megafauna and the sixteenth-century introduction of Eurasian domesticates had a great environmental impact on the Americas, the arrival in the Americas of Europeans and their zoonotic (animal-borne) diseases caused perhaps the largest demographic collapse in recorded history. Wave after wave of epidemic outbreaks of smallpox, measles, mumps, influenza, and other diseases decimated the native population, whose almost complete isolation from the Old World for millennia had rendered them highly vulnerable to diseases for which they lacked any immunity (Cook & Borah, 1960). The defenselessness of Native Americans against Old World diseases also originated from the fact that most human diseases are of zoonotic origin (passed to humans by animals), derived from the close contact between humans and animals, as in populations with domesticated animals. But Native Americans arrived in the Americas before any large animal was domesticated, with the exception of the dog. A third reason for the relative lack of contagious diseases among the indigenous population of the Americas is that their ancestors crossed Beringia when climatic conditions were very cold, which killed off most pathogens (Storey, 2012). In all, between 1492 and 1650 perhaps as much as 90 percent of the indigenous population in the New World succumbed to disease. The figures for the basin of Mexico suggest a similar decline. In 1650, for example, only about 150,000 people lived in the region. Four centuries would have to pass before local human population reached again the one-million watermark.6 The conquest brought to central Mexico not only a ―portmanteau biota‖ of animals, plants, and pathogens but also new approaches to old environmental problems. An example of this is the reworking of the local hydrography starting in the early seventeenth century. Since its formation due to volcanic activity some two million years ago, when the rise of the Ajusco and the Chichinautzin mountain range in the south of the valley blocked water from draining into the Balsas river and the Pacific ocean, the region had been an enclosed basin without a natural outlet (W. T. Sanders & Parsons, 1979). Around sixty percent of the valley floor was covered by a lake system that stretched from north to south. A number of rivers fed the lakes in the bottom of the basin. The rivers descended from the mountain ranges on the southwest as well as from the snowcapped peaks of the two volcanoes on the east of the basin, the 6 By comparison, one of the other great demographic cataclysms in human history, the Black Plague that devastated Europe in the middle of the fourteenth century after rats carrying the disease were inadvertently introduced to European ports coming from the Levant, ―only‖ killed around one third of the population. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 13 Popocatéptl and Iztaccíhuatl. The rivers carrying the largest volume of water were the Cuautitlán River in the northwest, which drained into Lake Zumpango, the Magdalena and the Churubusco rivers in the southwest, which drained into lake Mexico, and the Ameca River in the southeast, which descended from the volcanoes and made its way into lake Chalco. During Mexica times, the local population carried out massive engineering projects on the lake system that served three main purposes: to connect Mexico-Tenochtitlan with the mainland through the building of several causeways, to control the water level and thus prevent flooding by erecting dikes, and to keep the brackish waters in the east from mixing up with those of the west, which surrounded Tenochtitlan. The scale was gargantuan. The dike of Nezahualcóyotl, for instance, which divided Lake Texcoco from the Lake of Mexico, was a twenty-kilometer long barrier that ran from north to south (Palerm, 1973). How did the Spanish conquest of Mexico change indigenous water infrastructure? It has been argued that, whereas the pre-Columbian inhabitants of the basin of Mexico built their own civilization by incorporating water, Spaniards erected their colonial society in the region by expelling it. According to this argument, Indians saw the lakes in the basin as a source of food and as the basis for agricultural prosperity. Spaniards, to the contrary, saw them as a source of miasmatic vapors and thus of disease. This would explain the Spanish relentless attack on these water bodies, the paramount example being the drainage project initiated in the early seventeenth century (Musset, 1996). This is a questionable assertion. First of all, the Spaniards (or rather Cortés) decided to build their capital city on top of the devastated city of Tenochtitlan, which does not suggest a visceral disgust for and fear of living close to stagnant water. It is true that there was opposition to the idea among the Spaniards, and that the main reason for choosing the island of Mexico as the site to erect the viceregal capital was political legitimacy. Raison d‘état trumped raison hygiénique. Rather than any entrenched cultural Spanish aversion to water, flooding triggered their battle with local hydrology. Flooding had always occurred in the basin of Mexico, with one devastating flood taking place in 1452. The severity and frequency of floods changed with the establishment of the colonial regime. This change had little to do with ideas about water and a lot to do with the deforestation inflicted on local forests to set up the foundations of the new Spanish city and with the disrepair into which the indigenous water infrastructure fell throughout the sixteenth century. The colonial city demanded vast amounts of materials for its construction, including stone and an extraordinary number of wooden pillars for its foundations, which were extracted mostly from the forested mountains surrounding the basin. The massive deforestation caused increased siltation of the lakes, lake Texcoco in particular, which reduced its water-holding capacity, making it more prone to flooding. The abandonment of local water infrastructure was related to the demographic collapse of the indigenous population and the consequent labor shortages. Spaniards were more interested in appropriating Indian labor for their own private benefit through the encomienda and later on the repartimiento system than for public works. By the early seventeenth century, the damage had been done and the catastrophic floods of 1605 and 1629 set the local authorities along a path that over time and with every subsequent investment became increasingly hard to change, leaving later generations with almost no choice but to continue their work (Candiani, 2004). What is the environmental balance sheet of the colonial period for the basin of Mexico? Shawn Miller has written that in spite of ―the intense transformations of mining and planting, it is still more accurate to see the colonial era as one of nature‘s recovery and regeneration Complimentary Contributor Copy 14 Germán Vergara rather than its grand despoliation. The catastrophic decline of human numbers associated with the conquest remained a central factor in nature‘s trajectory at least until the nineteenth century‖ (Miller, 2007, p. 91). In other words, on balance demographic decline reduced pressure on the environment more than colonial economic activities or the abandonment of agricultural infrastructure such as terraces taxed it. This period of relative low environmental pressure came to a close in some areas of Latin America by the end of the eighteenth century (Ouweneel, 1996; Van Young, 1981). At the center of this trend lay the demographic recovery of the indigenous population, as it slowly acquired immunities to European diseases. Although it is a mistake to simply equate population growth with environmental degradation, it is not so to assume that larger human numbers usually have more capacity to transform nature. If the energy system of a given society remains unchanged, a surge in the human population will mean fewer resources available per individual. In some parts of central and western New Spain, since land was subdivided equally among descendants, subsequent generations found themselves inheriting increasingly smaller plots on which to sustain their families and grow crops for the market. In fact, resource scarcity and overpopulation, although not by itself a sufficient ―cause‖ of social unrest and revolution in the late colonial period, is surely one factor that helps to explain these phenomena (Tutino, 1986). The Basin of Mexico in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century7 If late colonial ―compression‖ played a role in producing political and social unrest that led eventually to independence, there is some logic in supposing that the wars for independence and independence itself, which brought decentralized and ineffective governments to power and made the economy come to a virtual standstill, might have reduced that compression. But the data and historical studies to test this hypothesis do not exist until the middle of the century, which is where this study begins. Although there remain large lacunae in the sources for this period as well, we can at least begin to answer important questions such as: what were the socioenvironmental conditions in the basin of Mexico in the mid-nineteenth century? What were the main traits of the local energy regime at the time? The evidence suggests that the local society of the basin still operated within the boundaries of the solar energy regime around the middle of the nineteenth century. As in most agrarian societies, population growth was slow and vulnerable to famines and other catastrophic events. In most areas within the basin, agriculture continued to be largely carried out with hand tools and depended on human or animal muscle for all operations, including planting, weeding, and harvesting. Animal manure (and, sometimes, insects) was the main fertilizer. Factory production (largely textiles) relied mostly on manual labor and on the use of hydraulic power or steam engines that consumed vast amounts of wood. Movement of people and goods depended on water transportation in the bottomlands, where large canoes crisscrossed the lakes linking Mexico City with its hinterland. In Mexico City and in the 7 There are two reasons for choosing the mid-nineteenth century as a benchmark in this narrative, one local and one global. The local reason has to do with the passing of the Constitution of 1857, which, with its provision for the privatization of communal landholdings, had important environmental consequences for the basin of Mexico. The global reason is that 1850 indicates the upper limit of C02 concentration (285 ppm) during the Holocene, thus marking the beginning of the Anthropocene. According to its proponents (Steffen W, 2011), the Anthropocene is a new geological era characterized by the role of humans as a force of global scope in shaping the Earth‘s environment. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 15 higher areas of the basin, people used animal traction or paid for the services of human porters to transport people and goods. For longer trips, people used coaches. The general picture that can be built from the scant and fragmentary information is of a society that tapped the solar energy stored in human beings, plants, and animals for most daily activities, relying on water mills and wood-powered steam engines for any type of work that needed a larger input of energy. In spite of all the social, economic, and environmental changes brought about by the drama of Spanish colonization and the independent period, from the point of view of its energy system, mid-nineteenth century society in the basin of Mexico had perhaps more in common with its pre-Columbian and colonial predecessors than with society half a century later.8 The region‘s demographics, agricultural production, industrial output, transportation systems, and forms of resource use were embedded in local landscapes. Thus it useful to conceptualize of space into distinctive environmental units. The larger unit, the whole basin, can be seen as a high oval plateau some 20 kilometers wide (east to west) and 70 kilometers long (north to south), delimited in the south by a massive mountain range with some elevations reaching more than 5,000 m, and a low-lying area with rolling hills in the north. Using ecological criteria, this large area can be further subdivided into four major altitudinal belts: 1) the lacustrine system, including the lake shores (2,235), 2) the alluvial plain (2,2402300 meters), 3) the piedmont (2,300-2700 meters), and 4) the sierras (2,700-5,000 meters). This division will provide us with an appropriate framework with which to examine the socioenvironmental conditions in the region by mid-century (W. Sanders, 1976; W. T. Sanders et al., 1979).9 The Lakes After two and a half centuries of attempts to drain them, the lakes were still there, although vastly changed. In the early sixteenth century, the Mexica recognized a lake system composed of six interconnected bodies of water: Texcoco and Mexico in the center (divided by the Nezahualcóyotl dike), Zumpango and Xaltocan in the north, and Chalco and Xochimilco in the south. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the lake system had 8 Between 1846 and 1878 the population of Mexico grew at an average of 0.8 percent annually, a ―normal‖ rate for agrarian societies but an extremely low one if compared to the 3.1 percent growth rate between 1950 and 1970. Between 1842 and 1878, the population of Mexico City remained stable at around 200,000 people (Instituto Nacional de Estadística, 1999). 9 In the 1850s, the basin of Mexico was under the administration of two political entities, the Federal District and the State of Mexico. The former controlled about twenty percent of the central and southern parts of the basin, while the latter administered the rest. The Federal District was created in 1824 and its composition changed several times over the following years. For some time, for example, Xochimilco, which had become a municipality, was part of the State of Mexico, then becoming part of the Federal District. The District of Mexico consisted of the municipality of Mexico, and the prefectures of Tlalpan (comprising the municipalities of Tlalpan, Coyoacán, San Ángel, Xochimilco, San Pedro Actopam, Tulyehualco, Tláhuac, Santa María Hastahuacán, Iztapalapa, Iztacalco, Milpa Alta), Tacubaya (Tacubaya, Popotla, Atzcapotzalco, Tacuba, Mixcoac, Santa Fé, Naucalpan) and Tlalnepantla (San Cristóbal Ecatepec, Guadalupe Hidalgo, Monte-Bajo, Monte Alto) (Alamán, 1855, vol. 2, pp. 224–228). Sanders divides the region into nine altitudinal belts, including 1) the lacustrine system, 2) the lake shores, 3) the deep alluvial plains, 4) the shallow alluvial plains, 5) the alluvial slopes, 6) the lower piedmont, 7) the mid piedmont, 8) the upper piedmont, and 9) the sierras. For other examples of subdividing a region based on environmental criteria, see Funes Monzote, 2008 and Melville, 1994. Complimentary Contributor Copy 16 Germán Vergara become fragmented into separate parts, adding a sixth lake, or rather, a dam, San Cristóbal, between Xaltocan and Texcoco (Orozco y Berra & Sociedad Mexicana de Geografía y Estadística, 1864, pp. 77,118–119). Figure 1. Map of the Federal District in the middle of the nineteenth century. Notice the emphasis on agricultural landscapes. ―Plano Topográfico del Distrito de México levantado en 1857 por la Comisión del Valle.‖ Biblioteca Manuel Orozco y Berra. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 17 The lake system had lost part of its former extension due to the diversion of the Cuatitlán River, which since the seventeenth century had stopped draining into lake Zumpango and now drained into the canal of Huehuetoca and the Tula River basin. The two lakes in the south, Chalco and Xochimilco, had fared better given that they still received most of the water from their tributaries, which descended from the mountains that rose in the southern end of the basin. Although the surface area of Texcoco and the three northern lakes varied substantially between the dry season (September to April) and the rainy season (May to August), the lakes covered by the middle of the nineteenth century an area of approximately 430 square kilometers or around seven percent of the basin (Orozco y Berra & Sociedad Mexicana de Geografía y Estadística, 1864, p. 115). That would mean approximately a seventy percent decrease from the lakes‘ maximum extension at AD 1000, when they covered some 1,500 square kilometers (Ezcurra, 1999).10 Although the lakes‘ economic importance had lost ground quite literally, they continued to represent an important resource for many communities in the basin through fishing, hunting, and chinampa agriculture, and they still provided a key element in the transportation of goods across the region, as canoes continued to reach most major human settlements in the basin. Peasants and indigenous communities around the lakes still derived a large part of their diet from the rich variety of plants, animals, and insects they collected from them (Orozco y Berra & Sociedad Mexicana de Geografía y Estadística, 1864, pp. 146–172). The annual harvest of waterfowl such as ducks and cranes illustrates the intense level of exploitation of lake resources by lacustrine communities. Perhaps half a million of these animals were hunted every year using, among others, a method called ―armada,‖ which consisted of lining up on top of each other two rows of shotguns (usually numbering around 100) loaded with pellets, with one row aiming at the water surface and the one on top higher up. Only one person was needed to fire the guns. Over night, a horse or an ox was made to walk in the shallow lake waters towards the birds, gently chasing them away in the direction of the ―armada.‖ Shortly before dawn, the lower-aiming row of guns was fired, causing the waterfowl to fly off, at which moment the second row of guns was fired. The harvest was usually bountiful, oscillating between 1600 and 2400 birds per hunt.11 10 The lakes ranged from 1 to 3 meters in depth. Lake Texcoco was located at the lowest elevation (2235 m), 1.9 meters below Mexico City, while lakes Chalco and Xochimilco were 3.0 and 3.1 meters higher than Texcoco, respectively. North of Lake Texcoco, lakes Xaltocan and Zumpango were 3.4 and 6.0 meters higher than Lake Texcoco. The San Cristóbal dam was formed in a depression in 1604 when a dike was built to keep the waters from the rivers Tepotzotlán, Cuautitlán, and San Miguel from flowing into lake Zumpango.. In 1868, the Secretaría de Fomento offered the following figures: Lake Texcoco, 210 square kilometers; Chalco and Xochimilco, 149 square kilometers, and Xaltocan and San Cristóbal, 88 square kilometers, or 447 square kilometers for all of them together (Memoria de la Secretaría de Estado y del Despacho de Fomento, Colonización, Industria y Comercio, 1870, p. 324). 11 Sources disagree on the total number of waterfowl being hunted annually in the basin of Mexico by mid-century. Orozco y Berra estimated the yearly harvest in 1 million birds for the whole basin, half of which were ducks. Manuel Arróniz (Arróniz, 1966, p. 39) suggested a much lower figure at 125,000 ducks per year, although he based his estimate only on consumption in Mexico City. According to Charles Gibson (Gibson, 1964, p. 342), during the colonial period the most popular form of hunting ducks ―required the setting of large nets on poles at intervals in the water, the arousing the ducks at dusk with shouts and sticks, and retrieving those that became entangled.‖ Another one involved hunters swimming in the lakes with their heads concealed in pumpkins, which allowed them to get close enough to floating ducks to capture them. Exequiel Ezcurra (Ezcurra, 1999, p. 26) lists a large number of waterfowl species, mostly migratory, that could be found historically in the basin‘s lakes, including ―22 species of ducks, geese, and swans, 3 species of pelicans and cormorants, 10 species of egrets, bitterns, and herons, 4 species of grebes, 19 species of shorebirds (plovers and snipes), and 9 species of cranes, rails, and coots.‖ It is unclear how many of these species were still Complimentary Contributor Copy 18 Germán Vergara The progressive desiccation of the lakes, however disastrous for the fish, insect, and bird species that depended on them for habitat as well as for the communities that relied on them for food or transport, may have temporarily benefited a particular trade: salt making. A strip of land stretching along the east of lake Texcoco, Zumpango, and Xaltocan had since preColumbian times been the locus of a thriving salt-extracting industry (Gibson, 1964; Parsons, 2001). But by the mid-nineteenth century this industry had in fact extended its area of operation as the lake waters continued to retreat. Although the water level had always varied considerably throughout the year, the basin‘s drainage left exposed an increasingly larger area of the saline lakebed, composed mostly of tequixquitl (sodium carbonate) and common salt (sodium chloride). During the rainy season, these vast plains were covered in salt-resistant halophytic vegetation locally known as tequixquicacatl, which included edible species such as verdolaga (portulaca oleracea). During the dry season, some of this vegetation disappeared and the abrasive heat evaporated surface water, exposing soils with high concentrations of salts. Lakeshore dwellers collected these mineral-rich earths, which were given the generic name of tequezquite. Four types were distinguished, ―espumilla,‖ ―confitillo,‖ ―cascarilla,‖ and ―polvillo.‖ Harvesting of the first two involved the formation of small earthen evaporation ponds where sunlight evaporated the brine contained in them, leaving behind a crystallized crust. The end product was reputed to be the most pure salt and was probably commercialized in Mexico City. The other two were collected by simply loosening the soil with a plow and spraying them with water (meant to bring out the ―efflorescence‖ or white deposits in the soil) and were considered of lesser quality. The soils collected from these ―criaderos‖ were then molded into hollow mounds (―montículos huecos‖), under which a frame made of twigs covered in grass or by a woven mat was placed. The mounds were then washed with fresh water, with the soil being collected on the grass-covered frame and the brine in a container located next to it. This concentrated solution was then heated in tin cauldrons to evaporate the water using cow dung and maize cobs as fuel. As in preColumbian and colonial times, the resulting salt loaves were traded extensively throughout the basin. Tequezquite was also used to bleach fabrics, to fabricate soap, and as flux (used in metallurgy as a cleaning agent). Production levels varied substantially, with a minimum of 3,000 cargas (414,000 kilograms) and a maximum of 26,000 cargas (3,588,000 kilograms) per year, with an average of 11,000 cargas (1,518,000 kilograms) (Orozco y Berra & Sociedad Mexicana de Geografica y Estadistica, 1864, pp. 154–155).12 Although the lakes provided nearby communities with important food sources through hunting, fishing, and salt extraction, their key value lay in their use for agricultural production. Although diminished from its heyday in the early sixteenth century when it covered over a hundred square kilometers, chinampa agriculture remained important in the mid-nineteenth century (Santamaría, 1912). Originally present in the entire lake system, chinampa agriculture continued to be practiced in the salt lakes (including Texcoco) during colonial times (Alzate Ramirez, 1831). By the nineteenth century, however, chinampas were largely confined to the shores of lakes Chalco and Xochimilco, and the towns of Santa Anita, 12 present by the second half of the nineteenth century. Friedrich (Friedrich, 1986), offering a different view of the social consequences of lake drainage, argues that the drainage of the Zacapu marsh in the 1880s and 1890s at first made fishing and hunting easier for local inhabitants because the animals, birds, and fish were more concentrated. Basing his observation on Humboldt, Charles Gibson noted that copper containers had replaced earthenware containers by the late colonial period; by the nineteenth century tin containers were being used instead. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 19 Ixtacalco, and Mexicalzingo (García Cubas, 1894). Contrary to what occurred to their total surface area, which had decreased dramatically by the nineteenth century, chinampa construction and agricultural techniques seem to have changed little over time. Like their colonial predecessors, chinamperos first located an underwater mound (―cimiento‖) by sounding out the bottom of the canal with an oar. Once they found one, peasants fenced the mound with reeds (the word ―chinampa‖ comes from the Nahuatl ―chinamitl,‖ meaning ―cane enclosure‖). They then piled up alternated layers of lake mud and aquatic vegetation, particularly lirio (hitckornia coerulea), until the mound was some 20-25 centimeters above water level. Willow trees or ―huejote‖ were then planted along the edges of the chinampa in order to stabilize the soil. The size of chinampa plots varied widely, from a few meters in length to up to 900 meters in length and 6 meters in width, with most measuring about 100 in length and 5-6 meters in width. Chinampas produced several crops per year and were never left fallow. With the exception of a few vegetables such as radish, turnip, and carrot, most plants were first grown in nursery beds (―almácigos‖) in a small garden plot, and then transplanted to the main chinampa. As in previous centuries, maize continued to be the most important crop cultivated in chinampas, both for local consumption and for the market in Mexico City and other large population centers in the basin. Tomatoes, chili pepper, cabbage, cauliflower, lettuce, green tomatoes, Brussels sprouts, onion, spinach, and celery were also important. Yields were sustained over time by adding aquatic vegetation and lake mud before every planting (Santamaría, 1912). It has been estimated that at the eve of the Conquest, chinampa agriculture could support over 170,000 people with a per capita consumption of about 160 kilograms (W. Sanders, 1976). Assuming a population of 200,000 for Tenochtitlan in 1519, chinampas provided 85 percent of the food requirements of the Mexica capital. There is evidence that chinampa productivity had not decreased by the end of the nineteenth century. One source indicates an unlikely average yield of 5-6 tons per hectare for earlytwentieth century chinampas, almost twice as much as the 3 tons per hectare proposed for preColumbian chinampa agriculture. Even if the former amount is inaccurate, it suggests that chinampa productivity did not decline over time.13 Maize surplus from chinampa agriculture found in Mexico City its most important market. Lakes and canals made access to the city‘s consumers relatively easy and cheap. The lake system represented the essential means of transport up until the late nineteenth century when most of it was finally drained. Forms of transportation and energy use are closely connected. In agrarian societies, transport of bulky goods by land becomes prohibitively expensive after a short distance. It has been estimated that in preindustrial central Europe it was not worthwhile to transport wood over a distance of 15-30 km, with the price of wood increasing by 40% for each kilometer. In comparison, if the good was transported over water, the increase in price was only 10% for each kilometer (Sieferle, 2001). In mid-nineteenth century Mexico, bulk transport over land was similarly expensive (Pérez y Hernández, 1862). Within the basin, many goods were transported on the backs of porters (―cargadores‖). In Mexico City alone there were over 1700 cargadores in the 1850s (Hermosa, 1859). Human 13 Although Santamaría‘s book was published in the early twentieth century, Santamaría based his description on interviews with old peasants (―cultivadores ancianos‖). Thus it is not unreasonable to assume that the information these peasants gave to him can be applied as well to the late nineteenth century. Using Santamaría‘s account, Teresa Rojas Rabiela (Rojas Rabiela, 1991) converted the 80 hectoliters given by Santamaría into eight tons. If one assumes 70 kilograms per hectoliter, then the total amount is 5,689 kilograms or 5.6 tons. Complimentary Contributor Copy 20 Germán Vergara muscle was an essential component of the transport system in the region. For longer distances, a pack of mules and ox-drawn wagons were commonly used. A pack of mules covered between 20 and 30 kilometers a day, and it cost from 12 to 14 cents to transport one load (―carga‖) of 138 kilograms (12 arrobas) 4.1 kilometers (1 legua), or 3 cents per 1 kilometer. Thus the cost of transporting daily necessities such as firewood (which cost 38 cents per carga at the time) became higher than the item‘s price after only 10-15 kilometers. It would only be with the arrival of railroads later in the century that water stopped being the cheapest option for the transport of goods in the basin. Perhaps not coincidentally, it was then that the drainage of the lakes was finally accomplished, a connection that the literature studying the drainage of the basin has overlooked. Studying the completion of the drainage project in the basin from the perspective of the transition from one energy regime to another may shed some new light on it.14 For the rest of the nineteenth century water transport remained essential for supplying Mexico City. Although located several kilometers away from the lakeshore by the 1850s, Mexico City had been originally part of the lake system. Canals still crossed the city, reaching into its commercial and political center, the Zócalo. The city depended on these canals for most of its food and fuel supplies, which were loaded into large canoes and brought every day from every corner of the basin. With a population of over 200,000 or around 85 percent of the Federal District‘s total population, the city was by far the largest market in the region. By today‘s standards, in the 1850s Mexico City was small, having an area of about 10-11 square kilometers. The city‘s effect on its hinterland, however, was already enormous. According to one source, Mexico City needed per year 17,000 head of cattle, 280,000 sheep (―carneros‖), 60,000 pigs, 1,260,000 chickens, 125,000 ducks, 250,000 wild turkeys, 65,000 pigeons (―pichones‖), 140,000 quails and partridges (―codornices y perdices‖), 118,000 three-fanega maize cargas (18,998,000 kilograms, assuming 161 kilograms per carga), 130,000 wheat flour cargas (20,930,000 kilograms), 300,000 pulque cargas, 12,000 aguardiente barrels, and over 68,000 kilograms of oil (Arróniz, 1966). These figures give us not only an idea of the agricultural productivity of the basin, but also of Mexico City‘s local ―environmental footprint.‖ It is possible to calculate the percentage of irrigated land devoted to feed Mexico City‘s residents based on these figures. Assuming an average yield of 1,400 kg per hectare of alluvial irrigated land (W. Sanders, 1976), Mexico City residents needed 13,570 hectares of land to supply them with maize throughout year. Interestingly enough, 18,998,000 kilograms per year meant about 95 kilograms of maize per person in the 1850s, a bit over half of what has been estimated as per capita consumption for the pre-Columbian basin of Mexico. In short, Mexico City in the 1850s needed an area of irrigated land 13 times larger than its own area to feed itself. And that was only for maize.15 14 According to Pérez Hernández, there was a railroad (hauled by mules) from Mexico City to the villa de Guadalupe (a distance of 4 kilometers) already in the early 1860s. There was a second one linking Mexico City and Tacubaya (6 kilometers). The railroad from Mexico City to Veracruz was 26.4 km, although only 1/3 of the tracks were actually in use. Within Mexico City, there were 640 carretas and 366 carretones for freight transport. Horses could also be rented in Mexico City. There were 419 of them in the early 1860s. It cost 5 pesos per day to rent one. 15 Interestingly enough, with a population of around 130,000 in 1791, Mexico City‘s residents‘ consumption was either similar or slightly higher for some items: 16,300 bulls; 278,000 sheep (―carneros‖); 50,600 pigs; 24,600 goats (―cabritos‖) and rabbits; 4,255,000 chickens; 125,000 ducks; 130,000 wheat flour cargas; 117,200 maize cargas; 294,700 pulque cargas; 12,000 aguardiente barrels; 4,507 wine barrels; 5,600 oil arrobas; 40,200 cebada cargas (Boletín del Instituto Nacional de Geografía y Estadística de la República Mexicana, ―Noticias de Nueva España en 1805. Publicadas por el tribunal del Consulado,‖ 1861). Mexican measures and their Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 21 The Alluvial Plains For contemporaries, the most important maize-producing regions in Mexico were located in Puebla, the Bajío (a historical region comprising most of today‘s Guanajuato and Querétaro, and portions of Michoacán and Zacatecas), the valley of Poañas, in Durango, and the basin of Mexico (Mühlenpfordt, 1969). Within the basin, the alluvial plains played an important role in maize production, perhaps only second to chinampas. This area was historically one of rain-fed maize agriculture, although some parts of this region were irrigated, especially in hacienda lands that produced both maize and wheat. The preferred maize variety in the haciendas of the region was called ―maíz tardío‖ or irrigated maize (―maíz de riego‖). It was regarded as the most productive of all maize varieties, took six months to mature, and yielded around fifty grains for every grain planted. Yields are another area that is really hard to pin down! Blue corn (―maíz pinto)‖ and white corn (―maíz cianuro‖) were also common, especially the latter due to its whiteness, which made it ideal in the production of certain kinds of dough. In non-irrigated land (by far the most common in the basin), the preferred maize variety was the ―maiz tremés,‖ which (as its name indicates) needed only three months to reach maturity (Hermosa, 1859; Mayer, 1852). It has been estimated that rain-fed agriculture on the alluvial plains yielded around 500 kilograms per hectare (W. Sanders, 1976). Without a general tariff system and a national market, maize prices oscillated with every harvest and locality, with one source indicating a value of two pesos per fanega (90.8 liters) in central Mexico during the early 1850s (Mayer, 1852). Grain production in the area was labor intensive, and even large-scale agricultural operations used most of their workforce directly in the fields. The hacienda Los Morales, for example, had a total population of 116: the hacendado, his wife, and their child, and 113 workers. There were 29 house employees, that is, people not directly employed in agricultural work, including the administrator, bookkeepers, butler, housekeeper, gardener, cooks, and maids. The hacienda employed 84 people directly in agricultural production, from overseers and craftsmen to field hands (AHDF, Gob. del Distrito Federal, Estadísticas, Caja 1, Exp. 3, Marzo 17 de 1856, 1856). In other words, 75% of the hacienda‘s population were engaged in making the land produce in an agricultural unit, a hacienda, that had normally access to at least some credit and expensive agricultural machinery. Haciendas in the region also engaged in raising maguey plants for the production of pulque, an activity that was far less labor intensive than other crops and usually offered good returns for a relatively small investment. In fact, maguey plants were perhaps the most important crop raised in the alluvial plains and slopes after maize. The maguey plant grew well in the arid plains of the basin. As a hardy plant that needs little care, maguey was sown in rows, making up large plantation-like fields (Payno, 1864; Mühlenpfordt, 1969). Maguey plantations could achieve high densities, with 350-400 plants per hectare being a common figure (Hermosa, 1859). After six years, the plant began producing agave juice, the key ingredient in pulque. One source indicates an average yield of 4-5 liters per plant every 4-6 metric equivalents can be found in Robelo, 1908. Mexico City‘s total area in the early twenty first century Mexico City and its metropolitan area covered some 1,500 square kilometers, or an area 150 times larger than its nineteenth-century predecessor. Diego López Rosado (López Rosado, 1988) estimated (without referring to specific sources) that in 1858, Mexico City had an area of 8.5 square kilometers, and increased to 40.5 square kilometers by 1910. That would mean that the city grew 4.7 times in half a century. He also gives a population figure of 200,000 in 1858 and 471,000 in 1910. Complimentary Contributor Copy 22 Germán Vergara months. Pulque being by far the most popular beverage among peasants and Indians, maguey plants were profitable, each securing their owners a yearly return of 20 to 30 pesos at a time when the average annual income of a peon was 100 pesos. Maguey plants represented an important economic activity for areas where precipitation was more scarce or irregular. In the municipality of Guadalupe Hidalgo, north of Mexico City, where there were 33,000 maguey plants in the middle of the nineteenth century, the extraction, processing, and commercialization of pulque were the most important economic activities after raising cattle (Torre, 1887).16 The Piedmont and the Sierras Traditionally a fruit-producing area, the foothills had become by the middle of the nineteenth century the locus of an incipient industrial corridor. Although they could be found in various points within the basin of Mexico, such as the northwest, most manufacturing establishments were located in the south, particularly along the course of rivers. Heavy rainfall during the rainy season, in some parts three times as much as in the drier areas in the north of the basin, meant that the area had an abundant supply of water, an essential resource for industrial production at the time. In fact, the use of water to power machinery had recently become widespread in the region. Out of 17 textile mills established in the area in the early 1840s, 8 were powered by human muscle, 5 by water, 2 by mules, and 1 by steam. A decade later, most of these factories shifted to water. The adoption of waterpower led to an increase in factory size and productivity over time. For example, in 1843 La Magdalena, one of the biggest textile factories in the region, had 8,400 spindles and 90 water-powered mechanical looms (―telares de poder‖), producing under 9,000 pieces of cotton cloth a year (Labastida, 1977). A decade later, La Magdalena had increased its number of spindles only to 8,472, but now it had 326 mechanical looms. As a result, production skyrocketed to over half a million pieces of cotton cloth every year (Anales del Ministerio de Fomento, Industria Agrícola, Minera, Fabril, Manufacturera y Comercial y Estadística General de la Rep. Mex. tomo primero, 1854). However, production capacity using waterpower had limits. The clear division between a rainy and a dry season in the basin of Mexico meant that the volume of water that rivers and streams carried downhill varied enormously throughout the year. It was not uncommon for mills to stop working altogether for extended periods of time. Some factory owners tried to solve this problem by building reservoirs but they had limited success. Industries also had to share their supply with other, more traditional uses. Water was used first by the factories and then by the local inhabitants to irrigate their orchards and for domestic consumption (Camarena Ocampo, 1996; Trujillo Bolio, 1996). Along with water, factories sought abundant supplies of timber in the foothills of the ranges that surrounded the basin of Mexico. While in the north of the basin drought-resistant species were common, a forest of oaks, cedars, pines, and firs predominated in the south, the preferred species for wood and charcoal production. Basically every phase in industrial manufacturing of the time necessitated wood, from beams for the buildings to, increasingly, fuel for steam-powered machines. But how much wood did factories consume in the middle 16 De la Torre estimated the worth of the maguey plants in 7,800 pesos annually. In comparison, the 4,555 head of cattle in the same municipality had a total value of 62,445 pesos. Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 23 of the nineteenth century? The answer is that consumption varied greatly depending on the type of industry. Glassworks and ironworks were among those that devoured particularly high quantities of wood, while textile mills and paper mills were less demanding, provided they did not use steam-powered machinery. In the case of paper mills, their impact on forests increased dramatically by the end of the nineteenth century once cellulose replaced cotton rags (―trapo‖) as the main raw material for paper products. Ironworks, by contrast, had for centuries had a profound effect on forests. It has been estimated that one hectare of temperate woodland may yield on a sustainable basis 2-4 tons of dry wood per year. As a general rule, a unit of wood produces about half the heat of a unit of coal. In early modern England the production of one ton of bar iron required the burning of 30 tons of dry wood (Wrigley, 2010). Assuming that an average ironworks with two Catalan forges in mid-nineteenth century Mexico had the capacity to produce 115-140 tons of iron per year (Labastida et al., 1977; Tomás, 1999), it would mean the annual consumption of a minimum 3,450 tons of dry wood or the sustainable harvest of 1,725 hectares of woodland. In the late twentieth century, there were a total of 390 square kilometers of pine forest cover in the Federal District (Palacio & et. al., 2000). Although it is reasonable to assume that present forest cover is more extensive than it was in the nineteenth century for the simple reason that wood represents today a marginal source of energy in the area, let us suppose a similar figure for vegetation cover in the nineteenth century. Such an area of forest yielded some 78,000 tons of dry wood per year. Thus if the entire annual forest yield in the southern ranges of the basin of Mexico was harvested to fuel ironworks (which obviously never happened), around 2,600 tons of bar iron could be produced on a sustainable basis, a paltry amount compared to present-day outputs. As an essential component of industrialization, the estimates for iron production illustrate the clear limits for large-scale production in an agrarian society (Wrigley, 1988).17 CONCLUSION For thousands of years, societies that inhabited the basin of Mexico lived under one basic energy regime. These societies depended ultimately on the amount of solar energy that reached Earth and was transformed by plants into usable energy for humans. This presented limits not only to the number of people the basin of Mexico could sustain but also to the human capacity to transform the environment. Of course, history in the region from the arrival of humans until the middle of the nineteenth century was anything but uneventful from an environmental point of view. There were phases of intense modification followed by periods of recovery, and periods of acute exploitation and irreparable damage followed by more or less permanent abandonment. For example, the basin went through a period of high environmental pressure and change in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, followed by a phase of relative low pressure and environmental recovery, mostly due to the 17 Wrigley argues that ―[i]f half the land surface of Britain had been covered with woodland, it would only have sufficed to produce perhaps 1 ¼ million tons of bar iron on a sustained-yield basis‖ (Wrigley, 2010, p. 16). At the turn of the twenty-first century, there were 90 square kilometers of fir-oak forest (―oyamel-cedro‖), covering 8 percent of the territory of the Federal District. There were 248 square kilometers of pine forest or 17 percent of the territory. The pine-oak forest covered 29 square kilometers or 2 percent. Oak forest covered 23 square kilometers or 1.5 percent. The great nineteenth-century Mexican intellectual Lucas Alamán noted that ―[e]l gran consumo de combustible que hacen las ferrerías exige absolutamente el cuidado de los montes, pues sin esto pronto se quedarán sin el carbón que necesitan‖ (Labastida, 1977, p. 34). Complimentary Contributor Copy 24 Germán Vergara demographic collapse of the indigenous population. A new phase of increasing environmental pressure, which began in the late colonial period with population recovery, may have faded with the outbreak of the wars for independence, only to begin to build again by mid-century, reaching a peak during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This process may be conceptualized as a palimpsest (rather than a series of cycles) with every phase leaving an imprint on which the next one took place. There were also changes in the amount of energy at the disposal of human beings in the region. Humans were the prime energy converters of the chemical energy stored in plants into mechanical energy until the arrival of the Spaniards and the introduction of livestock. Livestock expanded the limits of the solar energy regime, replacing humans in the performance of many tasks that required a high expenditure of energy. Then came the use of waterpower in the first decades of the nineteenth century. The adoption of hydraulic energy by many textile mills that were in operation in the basin had a similar effect to that of livestock, increasing the amount of energy at the disposal of people. The cumulative effect of such changes allowed for an incipient process of industrialization in the basin starting in the 1830s. However, neither the adoption of livestock nor the use of waterpower fundamentally altered the constraints within which people lived. Even the early adoption of steam engines in some industries by the middle of the nineteenth century did not translate into accelerated industrialization because they relied mostly on charcoal and wood to produce steam. Only the gradual adoption of steam engines that burned fossil fuel by the end of the nineteenth century (and particularly the quick adoption of oil in the early twentieth century) allowed for rapid environmental, economic, and social change. These new technologies and sources of energy finally overcame the limits of the old regime by tapping into the accumulated energy ―capital‖ stored as fossil fuels. But unlike other industrializing regions around the world, coal did not end up replacing hydropower and biomass in the basin of Mexico. Instead, coal became part of the local energy mix. But even this limited transformation had profound implications, and by the turn of the twentieth century an energy regime that had existed and evolved for millennia gradually gave way to the one in which we live today, based on fossil fuels. In fact, by the late twentieth century, the basin of Mexico derived virtually all of its energy from fossil fuels (Campbell, 1982). In this sense, the profound energy and environmental transformation that started unfolding decades before the social revolution of 1910 erupted created the foundation of the society that exists today in the region.18 REFERENCES Acosta, J. de, & O‘Gorman, E. (1962). Historia natural y moral de las Indias, en que se tratan de las cosas notables del cielo, y elementos, metales, plantas y animales dellas: y los ritos, y ceremonias, leyes y gobierno, y guerras de los Indios, compuesto por el padre Joseph de Acosta ... 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Complimentary Contributor Copy Energy, Environment, and Society in the Basin of Mexico … 29 Rubio, M. d. M.; Yáñez, César; Folchi, Mauricio; Carreras, Albert. (2010). Energy as an Indicator of Modernization in Latin America, 1890–1925. Economic History Review, 63(3). Sanders, J. R. (1991). Political Implications of Prehispanic Chinampa Agriculture in the Valley of Mexico. In Land and politics in the Valley of Mexico: A Two Thousand-Year perspective. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Sanders, W. (1976). Agricultural History. In The Valley of Mexico: Studies in Pre-Hispanic Ecology and Society. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Sanders, W. T., Parsons, J. R., & Santley. (1979). The Basin of Mexico: Ecological Processes in the Evolution of a Civilization. New York: Academic Press. Santamaría, M. (1912). Las chinampas del Distrito Federal: informe rendido al señor Director General de Agricultura. Mexico: Impr. y Fototipia de la Secretaría de Fomento. Sieferle, R. P. 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In Tierra, agua y bosques: historia y medio ambiente en el México central. Ciudad de México; Guadalajara, Jalisco, México: Centre français d‘études mexicaines et centraméricaines: Instituto de Investigaciones Dr. José María Luis Mora: Potrerillos Editores; Universidad de Guadalajara. Tutino, J. (1986). From Insurrection to Revolution in Mexico: Social Bases of Agrarian Violence, 1750-1940. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Complimentary Contributor Copy 30 Germán Vergara Van Young, E. (1981). Hacienda and Market in Eighteenth-Century Mexico: The Rural Economy of the Guadalajara Region, 1675-1820. Berkeley: University of California Press. Whitmore, T. M., & Turner, B. L. (2001). Cultivated Landscapes of Middle America on the Eve of Conquest. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press. Wolf, E. R. (Ed.). (1976). Summary and Conclusions. In The Valley of Mexico: Studies in Pre-Hispanic Ecology and Society. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Wrigley, E. A. (1988). Continuity, Chance and Change: the Character of the Industrial Revolution in England. Cambridge [England]; New York: Cambridge University Press. Wrigley, E. A. (2010). Energy and the English Industrial Revolution. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press. Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 2 A TALE OF TWO VALLEYS: AN EXAMINATION OF THE HYDROLOGICAL UNION OF THE MEZQUITAL VALLEY AND THE BASIN OF MEXICO 1 Jonathan Graham* Yale University, CT, US ABSTRACT This chapter will highlight the consequences of the hydrological union of Mexico City and the Mezquital Valley begun in earnest in 1900 after the opening of the Gran Canal del Desagüe. Though the history of the desagüe of Mexico City is well known, what happens to the aguas negras once they leave the valley, and their impact on the people and environment of the Mezquital where the waters are drained is less so. This chapter will place emphasis on the results of connecting the hydrological regime of what has been the largest city in the Western Hemisphere for much of the last five centuries and the Mezquital, the heartland of the Otomí indigenous group. The relationship between Mexico City and the Mezquital took on unique importance as the rapidlygrowing city expanded onto the former lakebeds. Today, around half of the city‘s residents—between 8 and 10 million people—live on the sinking soils that once supported the lakes and are utterly dependent on the hydrological union to keep them and their property above water. In the Mezquital, agriculturalists have adapted to the hydrological union with mixed results. The Mezquital today is home to the world‘s largest wastewater irrigation districts, 1 All translations are mine unless otherwise noted. This chapter is an initial report on dissertation research currently underway. A more detailed account of the hydrological union, with a focus on Ixmiquilpan, will be included in the dissertation‘s last chapter. This chapter presents a general picture of the two valleys‘ interdependence since 1900, the motivations behind its construction, and its consequences. I would like to thank the MacMillan Center, the Mellon Fund, the Fox Foundation, and Yale‘s Agrarian Studies and Center for Latin American and Iberian Studies (CLAIS) for generously funding my pre-dissertation and dissertation research. Thanks are due as well to Gil Joseph, Stuart Schwartz, J. R. McNeill and John Tutino for reading and providing comments for various drafts of this chapter. * [email protected]. Complimentary Contributor Copy 32 Jonathan Graham providing aguas negras to more than 100,000 ha of land. The aguas negras not only carry prodigious amounts of human waste—which to the present are untreated—and the infectious diseases associated with it, but also industrial waste, heavy metals and pharmaceutical compounds. Yet the pros and cons of the hydrological union cannot be summarily compared, for the introduction of massive amounts of new water has changed the economic potential of one of the poorest regions in Mexico. Presently, the hydrological union is about to become even more complex. The latest in a long line of desagüe projects will make the hydrological union bi-directional. As CONAGUA‘s actions and the response of the Otomí farmers during the droughts has shown, making the hydrological union bi-directional has the potential of creating a paradoxical and lopsided struggle between millions of city residents who depend on the Mezquital for drainage and food on the one hand and around 100,000 agriculturalists who depend on the aguas negras to make a living by supplying the city with meat (through alfalfa production) and produce on the other. As much of the developing world faces the challenges of rapid urbanization, lagging sanitation infrastructure, and aridity, NGOs and other groups have looked to the Mezquital as a template, which could, when applied to other regions, simultaneously jump-start rural development and improve urban sanitation. Keywords: Valley of Mexico, Hydrological Union, Mezquital Valley, water deficit, irrigation, and national politics, wastewater/aguas negras, and desagüe INTRODUCTION In the Mexican highlands more than 7,000 feet above sea level, one of the world‘s most complex water utilization schemes connects a valley and a basin. Inside the basin stands Mexico City, covering an area twice the size of Rhode Island and home to approximately seventeen percent of the nation‘s populace (Birkle, Rodríguez & Partida, 1998, pp. 502). To the north lies the Valle del Mezquital, the most arid region of Central Mexico, and heartland of the Otomí (hñahñu) indigenous group. Using the wastewater flowing from Mexico City, agriculturalist in the Mezquital have gradually converted the region‘s bottomlands into what scholars and NGOs have called the largest and oldest wastewater irrigation district in existence (cf. Foster & Chilton, 2004). Since 1607, massive public works projects had tried to drain the lakes of the Basin of Mexico into the Mezquital, but effective drainage had to wait until the Gran Canal del Desagüe (Great Drainage Canal) opened in 1900 (Peña, 2000, 2011, pp. 148). The Gran Canal, followed by other drainage works, created a hydrological union which has had negative and positive effects in both regions. Satellite images reveal how ―green‖ wastewater irrigation in the Mezquital has proven to be. The verdant fields within the irrigation districts stand in sharp contrast to the semi-desert scrub that predominates outside the canals‘ reaches. Not only do such images clearly delineate the boundaries of the districts, they underline how profoundly wastewater irrigation has changed the region‘s ecology (Jiménez, 2005, pp. 347). Recycling wastewater for agriculture also makes the union ―green‖ in a figurative sense, as it reduces demand on the Mezquital‘s own hydrological regime. From another perspective, however, draining Mexico City‘s untreated sewage into the Mezquital represents a case of NIMBY (not in my backyard) politics: a megacity exporting its problems to its less politically-powerful hinterlands (Ezcurra, 1999, pp. xiv). Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 33 For their part, Mezquital farmers, many of whom are Otomí, have made the best of the situation which, despite the drawbacks, has been hailed as their salvation. The region today provides much of the grains and vegetables, as well as meat and milk (through alfalfa production) sold in Mexico City, Toluca, Pachuca, and parts of the states of Mexico, Puebla, and Tlaxcala (Pérez Acosta, 2002). After a century of adaptation, agriculture in the Mezquital, if not life itself, is now built on a bed of sewage. On the other side of the drainage network, the urban population of the Valley of Mexico has increased from approximately 500,000 in 1900 to 22 million today, while the greater metropolitan area has expanded from 27km2 to 7,854km2 in the same period (Oswald Spring, 2011, pp. 499). Rapid urbanization from the 1960s to 1980s saw neighborhoods built on the basin‘s mountain slopes, inhibiting the recharge of the Mexico City Aquifer, the main source of water for the megalopolis. In addition, about half of the city today, including its poorest neighborhoods, stands on the former lakebeds; as a consequence, the twin issues of inadequate drainage and subsidence combine during the rainy season (June to October) to put millions of residents at risk of property damage and even death by drowning. Lock-in and interdependence define the hydrological union. The Mezquital depends on the Basin of Mexico to provide wastewater and the human fertilizer it contains to raise crops, while the concrete megalopolis relies on the Mezquital to act as a drain and a supplier of food. Any major change in this wastewater system would have serious consequences for these two regions united by rivers of aguas negras (wastewater). Projects currently underway, however, are designed to do just that. This chapter is divided into four parts. Part one provides the background to the hydrological union. The ecological disparities between the Basin of Mexico and the Mezquital presented in this section highlight how profound the effect of the hydrological union has been, as well as the promise it held for both regions. Part two integrates the social, economic, political, and ecological developments in the Mezquital and Mexico City after 1900, and examines how they placed new importance on the union. Simply put, without linking the Basin of Mexico‘s water regime to the Mezquital, Mexico City today would be a far different place, and the Mezquital would not have the world‘s largest wastewater irrigation network. Part three looks at the hydrological union today. Using scientific literature on the Mezquital produced over the last two decades, this section examines the water infrastructure connecting the valleys, the wastewater economy of the Mezquital, and the ecological effects of a century of wastewater irrigation. Finally, part four looks toward the future of the hydrological union and the projects currently underway that could profoundly change the Mezquital‘s agricultural regime. Farmers use large amounts of wastewater in Mexico (the second largest user of aguas residuales in terms of percent)2, China (the greatest user overall), Israel (having the greatest percent of harvests produced with wastewater), Vietnam, Tunisia, and elsewhere. The Mezquital case has shown that artificially linking a megalopolis‘s water regime to its arid hinterlands can be understood as sustainable or unsustainable, depending on the question asked. 2 CONAGUA (2012a, p. 75), estimates that 5,051 million m3, equivalent to 106m3/s of wastewater is used for agriculture in Mexico. The quote about the second-largest user of aguas negras is from ―Es México segundo lugar en uso de aguas negras para riego,‖ El Universal, August 10, 2006. Complimentary Contributor Copy 34 Jonathan Graham PART I: THE BACKGROUND AND CREATION OF THE HYDROLOGICAL UNION Formation of the Basin of Mexico The relationship between mountains and water—the component pieces of the word altépetl, the term in Nahuátl for a sovereign state (Lockhart, 1992, pp. 14, 607)—strongly influenced the ecological regimes of the Basin of Mexico and the Mezquital Valley, as well as the location of Mexico City. To a large extent, both regions owe their differences and similarities to volcanism and mountain formation. The Basin of Mexico sits at an average elevation of 2,240m, with its lowest elevation at 2,235m (Ezcurra, 1999, pp. 30, 144). Its valleys cover 9,600 km2, and it is surrounded by the Sierra de las Cruces to the west, the Sierra Nevada to the east, and the Sierra Chichinautzin to the south. To the north lie lower mountains and hills, leaving the division between parts of the southern Mezquital and the northern Basin of Mexico ill-defined. The basin originally had two paths to drain its waters, one to the south, toward Morelos, and another to the west, into the Lerma River basin. Lava flows, however, sealed off the western drainage in the Pleistocene era—the southern drainage having been blocked more than 500,000 years before—turning the future home of Tenochtitlán into an endorheic basin (having no outlet to the sea). Tectonic and volcanic activity during the Holocene continued to elevate the surrounding mountains, especially the Sierra de las Cruces, the western mountains which capture the precipitation blowing in from the Caribbean during the rainy season (Espinosa, 1902, p. 12; Evans & Webster, 2013, p. 297-8; Mooser, 1975). Over centuries, the sequestered waters filled mountain springs, aquifers, and most notably, lakes on the basin floor, creating the rich ecosystem that human inhabitants would later make great use of (Lugo Hubp, Pastrana, Flores & Zamorano, 2001). By the time of Tenochtitlán‘s foundation in 1325, the basin‘s inhabitants had a well-developed system of lacustrine utilization. The most famous aspect of that system, dredged-earth plots known as chinampas in Lakes Chalco and Xochimilco—and, as recent studies suggest, the brackish waters of Zumpango and Xaltocan as well—produced multiple harvests a year by utilizing large amounts of lake water and human waste, much of it from Tenochtitlán (e.g., Armillas, 1971; Morehart, 2012). Agriculture, however, represented only one aspect of the alimentary system on and around the lakes; abundant sources of fish, amphibians, waterfowl, and insects also helped support the largest conurbation in the hemisphere (Memoria…Drenaje Profundo, Vol. 1, pp. 41). Together, the natural abundance of the lacustrine system and the chinampas provided an unrivaled alimentary base that allowed for the diversification of labor (Berres, 2000; Rojas Rabiela, 1998). This included a warrior class which the Triple Alliance, as the Aztec state was known, used to subjugate areas outside the basin by the late fourteenth century. Although lake levels fluctuated greatly over the centuries, putting cities and towns at risk of inundation, the lakes also protected against drought and crop failure. It is therefore unsurprising that the two Mesoamerican empires the Spanish conquistadors encountered—the Aztec empire and the Tarascan empire in Michoacán—were at heart lacustrine societies (e.g., Pollard, 2008). Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 35 Formation of the Mezquital Valley and Its Consequences The Mezquital did not enjoy the same ecological advantages as its southern neighbor. Today, the Valle del Mezquital makes up the western third of the State of Hidalgo, as well as small regions in the State of Mexico and Querétaro. Though the region‘s exact limits are debated, at least 25 municipios in Hidalgo fall within the Mezquital. Most scholars include all of the diamond-shaped area in Hidalgo stretching from Tepeji del Río de Ocampo in the south to Zimapan and the Sierra Alta to the north, and from the Sierra de Metztitlán in the east to the Río San Juan and the Sierra Gorda to the west, and designate Ixmiquilpan as the region‘s center (Fabre Platas, 2004, pp. 33). Despite significant variations in rainfall and elevation, aridity and the predominance of semi-desert vegetation give the Mezquital a regional identity. The Mezquital also has two distinct sub-regions—the ―green‖ Mezquital and the ―dry‖ or ―high‖ Mezquital. The ―green‖ Mezquital encompasses the Tula Valley, site of the modern Irrigation District 003 (López Aguilar, 2005, pp. 39). In the ―High Mezquital,‖ the site of Irrigation District 100 Alfajayucan, the region becomes significantly drier. Whereas annual rainfall in the southern Mezquital averages 700 mm, Actopan, Ixmiquilpan, Alfajayucan, and Tasquillo receive closer to 400 mm, less than half of the state average (CONAGUA, 2012a, 153). The presence of karstic limestone formations and alluvial deposits confirms that a series of lakes like those in the Basin of Mexico once covered the Mezquital‘s bottomlands. However, the Mezquital lost its lakes after the prehistoric waters found a path to the sea through the Sierra Alta, depriving its future residents of a lacustrine system. This gives the Mezquital another defining characteristic: its rivers drain into the Moctezuma River, a tributary of the Pánuco. The Pánuco, in turn, deposits its waters into the Gulf of Mexico at Tampico over 500km away (Cervantes-Medel & Armienta, 2004, 479). The region‘s aridity derives in large part from the surrounding mountains‘ location and their elevation relative to the valley floor. In contrast to the Basin of Mexico, where the western rim (orilla) catches rainfall, the Mezquital lies in the rain shadow of the Sierra Gorda to the northwest, the Sierra Alta to the north, and the Sierra Huasteca to the east, in addition to having a lower altitude. The Huastecas cast the most consequential rain shadow, as they block the rain-bearing winds and clouds from which Central Mexico gains the majority of its precipitation. Other times, storms, and especially hurricanes, succeed in crossing the Huastecas, bringing heavy rains and floods. These two variables—mountains capturing or blocking rain and an outlet to the sea—led to quite different outcomes in the human settlement patterns of the Basin of Mexico and the Mezquital (Diehl, 1989; López Aguilar & Fournier García, 2009, pp. 122). The Mezquital has a semi-arid climate with cool winters and summer rains, corresponding to BS1kw (w) on the Köppen Climate Scale (Granados-Sánchez, López-Ríos, & Hernández-Hernández, 2004, pp. 119). General aridity, paired with significant variations in the timing and amount of rainfall have made the Mezquital among the hardest places to practice rain-fed (temporal) agriculture in Mexico. Though the southern and northern Mezquital experience the same rainfall variation patterns, it affects the northern Mezquital, the area deepest in the overlapping rain shadows, most. Since measurements have been taken in the northern Mezquital, rainfall has not only varied widely, but the yearly average has more than doubled. The National Irrigation Commission (CNI) reported in 1930 that its meteorological station at Ixmiquilpan received an average of 191.6 mm of precipitation per Complimentary Contributor Copy 36 Jonathan Graham year, compared to 494.5mm for Tula. During the driest year recorded, only 29.6mm of rain had fallen; in its wettest year, however, the town received 704.0mm (―Los climas en los Sistemas Nacionales de Riego,‖ pp. 30). From 1951 to 2003, Ixmiquilpan registered average rainfalls of 362.0mm, which increased to 413.3mm from 2002 to 2009 (www.inegi.gob. mx/est/contenidos/.../c13030_ 01.xls). In addition to aridity and the variability in the timing of rainfall, droughts lasting five years or more have been frequently reported in the Mezquital since the 18th century (Swan, 1982). To make matters worse, both sub-regions are also susceptible to frost in the winter and hail in the summer, despite being located south of the Tropic of Cancer and having elevations as low as 1700m. The Mezquital before the Hydrological Union During the colonial period, the Mezquital continued in its role from the Aztec era as a hinterland sending raw materials, taxes, and tributes to the capital. Additionally, the region provided wool, goat meat, and mutton to urban markets, as well as gold, silver, and lead to viceregal coffers. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, haciendas in the Mezquital and the similarly-arid Llanos de Apan also supplied Mexico City with vast amounts of a liquid: pulque, an intoxicant made from the maguey (agave) (Guerrero y Guerrero, 1985; Hernández Palomo, 1979; Tutino, 2002). The incorporation of pastoralism into the Mesoamerican agricultural complex reconfigured the human geography of the Mezquital. Like other Mesoamerican groups, Otomís made pulque from several species of maguey, a hardy succulent that flourishes in arid environments. Apart from the process of extracting aguamiel from the heart of the plant, magueys required minimal labor after being planted and castrated. A mature maguey could produce aguamiel in quantities exceeding an individual‘s daily water requirements, as well as cloth, fiber, cooking apparatuses, and building material (Fournier García, 2007, pp. 139-173). The relatively low labor demands of pulque production and the ability to leave the plants unattended for extended periods allowed pulqueros to tend to flocks, and, if needed, relocate them to better pastures outside the region—the practice of transhumance. As sheep, unlike corn, could be moved when rains failed to come, transhumance provided a hedge against drought. Though far from ideal, sheep and pulque production, when pursued jointly, enabled settlers to move away from the rivers and utilize lands that had previously been unable to support permanent human settlement (Fabre Platas, 2004, pp. 24; Tutino, 2002, 2007). The sheep-pulque regime, however, created different outcomes in the northern and southern Mezquital. Before the conquest, most Otomí pueblos (andehé), with the exception of the mining centers of El Cardonal and Zimapan, were located in the bottomlands next to rivers or springs. In the region where Irrigation District 03 would later be formed, inhabitants were clustered around Tula, Atitalaquia, Tlahuelilpan, Mixquiahuala, and Chilcuautla, where small-scale irrigation watered corn, chile, and other crops (Doolittle, 1990; López Águilar, 2005, chap. 1). The Spanish settlers who began to move to the region in the 1530s received land grants (mercedes) to raise livestock; a handful of them were also granted ―trusteeship‖ (encomienda) over indigenous towns, which provided them a cheap and local source of labor (Melville, 1994, pp. 21-22). Viceregal authorities made room for the incoming settlers and their livestock by consolidating indigenous populations in rounds of congregaciones and Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 37 relocating other communities from prime tracts of riverine territory through reducciones (Hunter, 2009, pp. 47, 123-4). By the end of the century, large swaths of the southern Mezquital‘s valleys had been converted into haciendas at the expense of the pueblos, many of whom were eventually surrounded by the estates (e.g., Mixquiahuala) or completely absorbed by them (e.g., Tlahuelilpan) (Melville, 1994, p. 89-96). Over the course of the next two centuries, the haciendas of the southern Mezquital would evolve into some of the largest haciendas in Central Mexico, which gained the attention of two eighteenth-century peninsular migrants: Servando Gómez de la Cortina and Pedro Romero de Terreros. At the behest of his uncle, José Gómez de la Cortina, Gómez had migrated from Cantabria and purchased a number of properties in the jurisdictions of Tula, Actopan, and Ixmiquilpan, including the Hacienda de Tlahuelilpan, a large pulque hacienda (Villanueva, 2003, pp. 265). By the mid-1700s, two Jesuit haciendas, Santa Lucía and Xalpa, stretched from the northern shores of Lake Zumpango in the Basin of Mexico to Actopan in the northern Mezquital, with annexes further north (Konrad, 1980). After their expulsion from New Spain in 1767, Romero de Terreros paid 1.2 million pesos for Santa Lucía, Xalpa, and several smaller haciendas—the largest land transaction of the colonial period (Gibson, 1964, pp. 290). In recognition of their wealth and status, the Crown gave both men noble titles: Romero de Terreros became the first Conde de Regla, and Gómez, the first Conde de la Cortina. Ultimately, much of the haciendas‘ profits that the condes used to acquire more land, build irrigation networks, and in the case of the Conde de Regla, invest in mining, came from sheep and pulque production. In A Plague of Sheep, a seminal book in Latin American environmental history, Elinor Melville argued that the introduction of livestock after 1530 produced an ecological disaster in the Mezquital. Throughout the remainder of the sixteenth century, in a phenomenon known as an ungulate irruption, sheep reproduced exponentially in the region‘s ―virgin soils‖ until they exceeded carrying capacity; shortly after stripping the land bare, flock sizes fell by as much as ninety percent. This biological process, along with Spaniards‘ ignorance of the landscape and the intentional overstocking of sheep estancias provoked erosion, deforestation, desiccation, and the invasion of desert scrub in the bottomlands. In the wake of the ungulate irruption, the region transformed into a semi-arid scrubland deserving of the title it would later receive: the Mezquital, ―the place of the mesquites‖ (Melville, 1994). Melville‘s thesis has been challenged by historical geographers K. W. and E. K. Butzer, who used the same archival resources as Melville, yet came to the opposite conclusion: not only had the die-off of the indigenous population during the epidemics offset the ecological impacts of the introduction of livestock, pastoralism introduced a new form of wealth for indigenous and non-indigenous inhabitants (Butzer & Butzer, 1995, 1997). More recently, however, archaeologists have reported that evidence in the Mezquital points to desertification beginning not in the fifteenth century, as some had suggested, but the sixteenth century, during the ―plague of sheep‖ (López Ágular & Fournier García, 2009, pp. 118-19). Despite the seemingly-incompatible conclusions of the Butzers and Melville, the effects of livestock introduction in the sixteenth century likely had a high level of variation from region to region, even pueblo to pueblo, leaving room for both interpretations on the local level. It is clear, however, that by the seventeenth century, sheep and pulque enabled a new way of life. In the Dry Mezquital, pre-Columbian pueblos in the valleys—Actopan, Ixmiquilpan, and Huichapan—became the centers of colonial administration (cabeceras), while its haciendas, though smaller and less profitable than those of the south, eventually Complimentary Contributor Copy 38 Jonathan Graham grew into large estates (CARSO, DLXII.2.1.0, 104-109; Melville, 1994, pp. 111). More importantly, much of the indigenous population in the north, in contrast to the southern Mezquital, resided in the sierras (Miranda, 1966, pp. 5). Orizabita, situated in the arid sierra north of Ixmiquilpan, exemplified the indigenous republics across the region after the conquest. A group of Otomís founded the republic in 1610 after receiving a land grant for their services in the Chichimec War.3 More of a ranchería than a nucleated pueblo, Orizabita stood on a marginal piece of land more than two miles away from the nearest source of water (AGN, Operaciones de Guerra, Vol. 96, p. 263v). Though its location forced inhabitants to haul water from, and drive their livestock to, small reservoirs (jagüeyes and ojos de agua) and seasonal arroyo streams, it also gave them access to ample pasturage and forests. In such circumstances, pulque often replaced drinking water. An example of the substitution comes from another sierra republic to the southeast of Ixmiquilpan. The vecinos of El Alberto and its subject towns petitioned the viceroy for an exemption to the tax on pulque producers in 1815, after a prolonged drought had substantially reduced the output of their magueys. In a letter accompanying the petition, Ixmiquilpan‘s Administrador de Rentas made the viceroy aware that: In the barrio named Maguey Blanco, in the jurisdiction [of El Alberto], water is so scarce that when its use is absolutely necessary for the Indians, they have to take it from the river [Tula], which is more than two leguas [5 miles] from the said barrio; as such, they use pulque instead, whether for drinking water (agua del tiempo) or for grinding and preparing chile, their usual diet (AGN, Oficio de Soria, Vol. 4, Exp. 3, p. 55). Despite the difficult ecological and political circumstances, the sierra republics grew rapidly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. As a result, the jurisdicción of Ixmiquilpan experienced one of the greatest demographic recoveries in New Spain; from 1650 to 1800, the indigenous population increased by almost 500%, compared to the colonial average of 200% (Miranda, 1966, pp. 5-6). Riverine communities as well as the sierra republics regularly went without sufficient amounts of water by the late colonial period. Though valley pueblos such as Ixmiquilpan, Tula, and Tetepango had irrigation systems in their municipal lands (fundos legales) by 1800, haciendas had also begun to divert entire streams to their fields during the workweek, affecting communities with long-established water rights (Fournier-García & Mondragón, 2003; Ramírez Calva, 2013). Thus many Otomís—75% of the valley‘s overall population (Tutino, 2002, pp. 300)—continued to go without water for irrigation or even personal consumption. Instead, they lived by the vagaries of pastoralism, pulque production and rainfed (temporal) agriculture in a region which has been called ―a land without clemency,‖ ―the Valley of Tears,‖ and even ―The Valley of Death‖ because of its aridity (Rodríguez, 1951; Schmetzer, 1968). In general, by the end of the colonial period, most of the indigenous population in the southern Mezquital lived on, or in the vicinity of, the haciendas and worked as labradores on the estates, while the majority of their counterparts in the arid sierra worked as day laborers (jornaleros), artisans, traders, and livestock raisers (Miranda, 1966, pp. 5). The tremendous 3 INAH Chapultepec, Microfilm Room, ―Serie Hidalgo,‖ Roll 25, ―Yndice de los títulos ê Ynstrumentos pertenecientes á las tierras del Comun y Naturales del Pueblo de Orizava de la Provincia de Yzmiquilpan.‖ Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 39 demographic growth in the sierras, however, produced a concomitant rise in disputes over water. By the 1780s, subject towns, villages, and even barrios in the northern Mezquital were declaring themselves independent from their cabeceras, a process which Fernando López Aguilar (2005) has called ―bifurcation.‖ In most cases, the motivation for second- and thirdtier settlements to seek jurisdictional independence came from a desire to secure primary resources, and water above all, for their growing populations. As a result, multi-lateral disputes over the sierra‘s few arroyos and jagüeyes played out simultaneously in court and in skirmishes at boundary markers (mojoneras). These disputes carried over into the War of Independence, and played a critical role in whether individual communities supported the insurgency.4 Otomís across the Dry Mezquital declared in favor of the insurgency during the War of Independence. Except for Ixmiquilpan, a cabecera with a militia and royalist garrison, insurgents dominated the region from 1810 to 1813. Groups at times numbering in the thousands allied with wartime caudillos such as Julián and ―Chito‖ Villagrán, attacking towns, haciendas, churches, and priests; other times insurgents pursued local objectives, such as repositioning boundary markers or stealing livestock.5 Once again, the southern Mezquital‘s experience during the War of Independence contrasted with the north. Though by no means free of insurgent activity or support, the Mezquital south of Actopan remained firmly in royalist hands due to the efforts of the hacendados. After insurgents began to operate in the northern Mezquital in late 1810, the second Conde de la Cortina ordered the administrator of the Hacienda Tlahuelilpan to protect his estates by organizing eight volunteer companies pulled from the ranks of hacienda laborers—a force of more than a thousand men. In order to defeat the insurgents, the conde spent 1.7 million pesos from 1810 to 1815 launching counterattacks, provisioning the volunteers, protecting convoys, giving stipends to the widows and orphans of deceased soldiers, and providing horses for the royalist cavalry (CARSO, Fondo CCLXXXVII, Leg. 8, Carpeta 682, Doc. 1). While the War of Independence fundamentally changed landholding patterns in regions such as the Bajío (Tutino, 1998, pp. 368), haciendas continued to dominate the bottomlands and water of the Mezquital after 1821. In 1827, legislators imposed the contribución directa, a capitation tax, to provide the fledgling State of Mexico with desperately-needed revenue. Moreover, haciendas encroached on pueblos‘ commons after the passage of the Liberal land reforms. Far from resigning themselves to these circumstances, Mezquital Otomís fought in each of the national conflicts of the 19th century, and fomented several major rebellions. The First Mezquital Revolt (1849-51), began as a protest over the seizure of half of Mixquiahuala‘s common lands by the Cortina family, and expanded into a general revolt against the contribución directa (BENSON, Mariano Riva Palacios Collection, 3837, 3905, 3917, 4054, and 4772). Anger over the contribución contributed to the outbreak of another so-called caste war in 1861, when Sostenes Montejano, a Conservative officer and Otomí speaker, gathered a force of approximately 10,000 from the arid sierra and attacked a number of haciendas and towns (AHSDN, 0/481-4/8442). In the Second Mezquital Revolt from 1869 to 1872, groups of ―bandits‖ with various motivations created a state of lawlessness in the 4 5 e.g., Bancroft Library, MSS 2003/183m, Hidalgo State Legal Documents, Box 2:3, Cases, ―Criminal, En averiguacion de quien hurió á Manuel Fran.co Yndio de Orizava.‖ AGEH, Fondo Ixmiquilpan, Serie Administración de Justicia, C8, E35, 1r-3v. For overviews of the insurgency, see Ballesteros García (2005, p. 11-41) and Van Young (2001, p. 168-189). Complimentary Contributor Copy 40 Jonathan Graham newly-formed State of Hidalgo and the northern and eastern Basin of Mexico (AHSDN, XI/481.4/10760, XI/481.4/10761). The Porfiriato (1876-1910), however, ushered in a new era. Some scholars have attributed the decline in agrarian movements to the repressive policies of the Cravioto clan, old allies of Porfirio Díaz who ruled Hidalgo until 1897 (Herrera Cabañas, 1995; Hernández Mogica, Rivas Paniagua, & Luvián Torres, 2000, pp. 36-7). However, such policies alone cannot be credited with the marked reduction in conflict in the Mezquital during the second half of the Porfiriato, especially after the Craviotos lost control of the governorship. The hope that water coming into the Mezquital from the Basin of Mexico would liberate the region from what had been its chief limitation—aridity—also played a decisive role. By accident of geography, the only real candidate to receive the waters of the Basin of Mexico, the Mezquital, was also the region that could use them most. Mexico City, Desagüe, and the Gran Canal Mexico City‘s attempts to achieve equilibrium with the lakes and prevent flooding produced one of the most famous chapters in Latin American environmental history, as well as one of the most recognizable changes in landscape: the desiccation of the lacustrine system (Miller, 2007, pp. 70). Moreover, the desagüe del valle (drainage of the valley) into the Mezquital represents the largest and costliest public works project undertaken in the Spanish Empire, which raises the question of why it was necessary in the first place. Changes in the relationship between the capital city and Lake Texcoco developed soon after the conquest. The cultural and economic shifts in the transition from MéxicoTenochtitlán to Spanish Mexico City began to turn initial environmental advantage into disadvantage. The introduction of Spanish agricultural practices and livestock, as well as the preference for wheat over corn, rapidly changed the ecology of the Basin of Mexico. Fallow wheat fields encouraged erosion, which made the lakes shallowerd and quickened the flow of water to the basin floor. Bernal Díaz, for one, praised the changes. In a passage describing Itzapalapan, Díaz related that when the Conquistadors had arrived in 1519, the town was of considerable magnitude, built half in the water and half on dry land. The spot where it stood is at present all dry land; and where vessels once sailed up and down, seeds are sown and harvests gathered. In fact, the whole face of the country is so completely changed that he who had not seen these parts previously, would scarcely believe that waves had ever rolled over the spot where now fertile maize plantations extend themselves on all sides; so wonderfully has everything changed here in a short space of time! (Díaz del Castillo, 1844, pp. 220) Within the capital, the preference for horses, carriages, and carts for transport over canoes led to many of the canals (acequias) being filled in, seriously impairing the city‘s drainage capacity. A sign of things to come came in 1555, when the outskirts of the city, no longer protected by the dikes (albarradones) built in the Aztec period, were inundated after heavy rainfall (Perló Cohen & González Reynoso, 2006). (Table 1) Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 41 Table 1. Floods in Mexico City over the last seven centuries6 15th Century 1449 1465 1490 16th century 1550 1553* 1555 1580 17th century 18th century 19th century 20th century 21st Century 1604 1707 1819 1907 2000 1607 1714 1851 1939 2007*** 1617 1716 1856 1941 (2x) 2011 1620 1724 1865 1942 2013 1626 1732 1894 1944 1629-1634** 1747-8 1950 1645 1763 1951 1648 1770 1952 1674 1792 1981 1691 1795 3 4 11 10 5 10 4 The most serious floods are italicized. * Sources referring to the flood of 1553 may actually be referring to the flood of 1555, because of a transcription error. (Memoria histórica, 1902, pp. 59). **in 1630, rains were sufficient to cause flooding, but the floodwaters from the previous year had not yet subsided. ***over a million people were forced to evacuate lower areas of Mexico City. Rather than moving the capital, the city council and the viceroys preferred another solution: desagüe, or drainage of the city, and, if necessary, the basin itself. The first works to prevent flooding by connecting the hydrological regimes of the Mezquital and the Basin began in 1607. In the space of eighteen months, and employing thousands of indigenous workers (473,178 men and women, according to a contemporary report), Enrico Martínez created a canal and tunnel which redirected the Cuautitlán River, the basin‘s largest, from Lake Zumpango to the Río Tula and the Mezquital (Cepeda, 1637, pp. 18). The project did not, however, reach Lake Texcoco; the city council, constantly bereft of funds, could not afford to extend the canal 50km to the south (Candiani, 2012, pp. 12). As Martínez predicted, this half-measure did not eliminate flooding in Mexico City; it could not directly prevent the rising of Lake Texcoco, the lowest lake which threatened the capital (Mathes, 1970). The project executed in haste by Martínez, moreover, soon developed problems. The canal walls gave way and the tunnel collapsed a few years later. Desagüe officials repeatedly carried out repair works, but the tunnel remained blocked in 1629, the year of the gran inundación, or Great Flood. Though the works Martínez had created could not have prevented the flood, he was nonetheless held responsible and jailed (Mathes, 1970). More than any other point during the colonial period, the Great Flood of 1629 gave authorities and city residents pause to seriously rethink the capital‘s location on the swamps of Lake Mexico. In September of that year, an unrelenting downpour blanketed the city in more than a meter of water, which would remain until 1634, when an earthquake fractured the hardpan of the basin floor and allowed the water to drain into the subsoil. After receiving word of the flood, Philip IV ordered the viceregal capital be moved to higher ground. 6 Agostoni, (2003, p. 119); Butler, (1898, p. 2); Cohen and González, (2006, p. 49-50); García Acosta, Zevallos, del Villar, (2003, p. 1638, 1654); Mathes, (1970); Memoria…Drenaje Profundo, Vol. I, (1976, p.33); Memoria histórica, técnica y administrativa, (1902, p. 59, 187) ; Orozco y Berra, (1875, p. 2); Schell Hoberman, (1980, p. 406). Complimentary Contributor Copy 42 Jonathan Graham Although only 400 out of 20,000 Spanish families had stayed in Mexico City during the flood, the propertied classes disobeyed the royal decree and refused to allow the city to be relocated (Ramírez Rodríguez, 2008). The refusal to abandon Mexico City underscores how locked-in to the capital‘s location the colonial administration had become. The location had many advantages. Cortés had been aware of them, which had led him to go against the advice of his men and build the viceregal seat on the rubble of the Aztec capital. Alimentary advantage had been central to the expansion of the Triple Alliance. The Aztecs had created a positive-feedback cycle in which a large, well-provisioned military force had subjected tribute states, which in turn sent more food and items for trade to the basin. The natural beauty of the landscape and ease of aquatic transportation also had to be taken into consideration. To keep these advantages, as well as to assure the uninterrupted flow of tributes, Cortés had decided to rebuild rather than relocate (Ramírez Rodríguez, 2008, et. al.). The denizens of Mexico City during the Great Flood were paying for that decision. For the propertied classes, too much had been invested in real estate and too much would be lost by relocating. Therefore, the costly and largely-ineffective drainage works—as well as floods—would continue off and on throughout the colonial period (Musset, 1993, pp. 53). The second change in the desagüe of the basin into the Mezquital came during the late18th century, when plans for more effective drainage focused on replacing Martínez‘s tunnel at Huehuetoca. Bourbon administrators argued, as many had a century before, that if the tunnel had been problematic, it should be turned into an open ―cut.‖ Thus began the ―Tajo‖ de Nochistongo, one of the largest earthmoving projects before the use of the steam engine. Once completed in 1789, the Tajo conducted the first regular stream into the Mezquital, but still only drained the Cuautitlán River and the excess waters of Lake Zumpango (cf.. Abedrop, 2012, pp. 24-32). The desire for desagüe carried over into the independence period, but substantial works had to wait until the 1880s, when political will, economic stability, and the ability to gain international credit came together, allowing the Díaz regime to construct the Gran Canal del Desagüe. To solve this most ―Mexican‖ (referring to the city and the basin) of problems— flooding—required international participation. The plan put into action was designed by a US Army engineer during the Mexican-American War, adapted by capitalino engineer Francisco de Garay, approved by Maximillian during the French Intervention, financed with loans from Europe, and completed by two English firms (Read & Campbell and Pearson & Son) (Garay, 1878, pp. 5-8; Memoria del Ministerio de Fomento, 1866, pp. 5-9). Only by creating a permanent drainage of the entire basin into the Mezquital, it was thought, would the relentless threat of flooding end and public health in the city improve (cf. Raigosa, 1881). To drain Lake Texcoco and Mexico City‘s sewage into the Río Tula, the plan called for a canal between San Lázaro, now a neighborhood in Mexico City, and Tequixquiac, at the northern end of the basin, where a tunnel would conduct the water to the Río Tula. The construction of the Gran Canal and the Tunnel of Tequixquiac represented the largest project undertaken by the Díaz government and one of the earliest reclamation projects in the Western Hemisphere (Wakild, 2006, pp. 7). As Emily Wakild has stated: Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 43 Taking fifteen years to complete and using up one-third of the national treasury, it was the culminating effort of the Díaz regime to control nature around the capital city, legitimize the rule of Díaz, and reinforce the need for a powerful governmental apparatus rooted in scientific management. (Díaz, 2006, p.7) The Gran Canal‘s construction fulfilled more than the prosaic need for drainage in the capital. While other world capitals were erecting monuments that glorified their national past, Mexico City and the Díaz regime created ―monuments of progress‖ in the form of canals, trenches, pumps, hydroelectric plants, and tunnels (Agostoni, 2003). The work‘s keystone— the Tunnel of Tequixquiac—was named in honor of Don Porfirio, and a plaque bearing his name was placed on the tunnel‘s facade, watching over the new river of filth (―Valley Drainage‖). In the presence of notables and the archbishop of Mexico on site at Tequixquiac, Don Porfirio presided over the Gran Canal‘s inauguration on March 17, 1900. (―El desagüe del Valle de México,‖ 1900, March 17; ―Inauguración de las obras del desagüe del Valle de México,‖ 1900, March 18). That moment fitfully represents the beginning of the hydrological union. The Gran Canal did what no previous project had before: provide a possible exit for all of the waters of the Basin of Mexico to the sea. As such, the Gran Canal‘s inauguration also represented the birth of a valley which would become completely dependent on its neighbor to keep the city within it above water. PART II. POOR MEZQUITAL, SO FAR FROM GOD, SO CLOSE TO MEXICO CITY? THE CREATION AND PROMISE OF THE HYDROLOGICAL UNION Wastewater Irrigation in the Mezquital from the Opening of the Gran Canal to the 1990s In the first two decades after the Gran Canal‘s opening, the hydrological union appeared to work as designed. Within the former basin, the Gran Canal quickly eliminated large portions of lakes Zumpango, Xaltocan, San Cristóbal, and Texcoco, freeing reclaimed lands for urban and agricultural use. At the other end of the tunnel of Tequixquiac, prodigious volumes of aguas negras—approximately sixty million cubic meters a year—were flowing into the Mezquital, while clean water (agua blanca) continued to flow through the Tajo de Nochistongo and into the Río Salado (Pérez, Jiménez, & Chávez, 2000, pp. 2). The negative impacts of the drainage, however, became apparent by the early 1920s (Jiménez, 2005, p. 345). Wind blowing over the exposed lakebeds brought dust storms to the city, which continued well into the 1970s. While reforestation projects, as Miguel Ángel de Quevedo argued, could reduce dust storms, another issue—land subsidence—could not be remedied so easily (―La invasión de polvo en la Metropoli,‖ 1922, May 10; ―Peligros del famoso lago de Texcoco,‖ 1922, April 16). Areas of the city had begun to sink at noticeable rates: at an average of 5cm per year between 1900 and 1936, increasing to 18cm between 1938 and 1948 (Breña Puyol, 2003). Complimentary Contributor Copy 44 Jonathan Graham Since the signing of the contracts for the Gran Canal‘s construction in 1889, elites in the Mezquital, particularly mine owners and hacendados, had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the lake- and sewage water.7 Supporters of the desagüe in the Tula Valley, as well as in Actopan and Ixmiquilpan, had grand plans for the new water. One particularly vocal supporter, Anselmo Gómez, the jefe político of Actopan, had written to several newspapers in Mexico City in the 1880s stating that if the waters of the Basin of Mexico were drained into the Mezquital, eighty square leagues (2,470km2) of land that was otherwise unusable could be used to raise wheat and provide 150,000 residents a good living (Gómez, 1880, December 23; 1883, March 29). The first wastewater system began in 1896 in the Tlaxcoapan-Tlahuelilpan-Mixquiahuala region of the Tula Valley (Medel & Armienta, 2008). However, since the Río Tula served as the main distributor of the waters coming from Tequixquiac, the hacendados there did not hold a monopoly over aguas negras use. Farmers all along the river began using the Valley of Mexico‘s waters shortly after it began flowing. Moreover, by reducing the Río Tula to a sewage canal, the desagüe also fouled the region‘s main water supply. The Gran Canal had been undertaken for public benefit in Mexico City, but in the Mezquital, irrigation firms carried out canal projects for private use and profit. In the Tula region, for example, José Luis Requena, owner of the El Mexe hacienda, constructed the first dam, later named in his honor, to store the waters coming from the basin. Leading from the dam, Requena excavated a 70-kilometer canal that supplied the Jaso, Tlahuelilpan, Ulapa, and San Antonio haciendas before terminating in El Mexe (Peña, 2000, pp. 65). In the region between Ixmiquilpan and Actopan, Alejandro Athié, a Lebanese immigrant and owner of the Ocotzhá hacienda, had built a 26-kilometer canal in 1917 to transport aguas negras to newlyplanted mulberry trees for sericulture (AHA, Aprovechamientos Superficiales [AS], C 252, E 6072, 2). From the moment water began to flow from Tequixquiac and into the Tula River, it was earmarked for modernizing the region which many believed was among the most undeveloped in the nation. The irrigation companies provided services to those who could pay for it: mining companies, factory owners, cities, and hacendados.8 The largest of the firms, the Compañía Eléctrica en el Estado de Hidalgo—later renamed the Compañía de Luz y Fuerza y Ferrocarriles de Pachuca to reflect their ambitions—dug canals to provide wastewater for agriculture and hydroelectricity. D. Thomas Braniff, the company president, announced in 1898 that work would soon commence to bring irrigation to ―considerable parts of the rich district of Actopan, whose land has been up to now almost non-productive due to the constant lack of rain ….‖9 The new irrigation project would complement the excavation work they had begun the year before: a canal leading to the Juandhó waterfall, where the company was also installing a hydroelectric plant to provide electricity to the Compañía de Regla (―Una gran empresa,‖ 1898, December 8). While upstart, locally-funded companies carried out the canal-building projects, President Díaz also planned for indigenous farmers to benefit from the water leaving Tequixquiac. 7 See the notice in El Universal, December 31, 1889, p.1 for the contract with Pearson & Son to excavate the Gran Canal in three years‘ time. 8 Another multi-purpose irrigation company in the region was the Compañía Irrigadora de Ixmiquilpan, S. A, created in 1916. AHA, Aprovechamientos Superficiales, C 107, E 219. 9 ―Una gran empresa. Irrigación y energia eléctrica. Obras Soberbias,‖ (1898, December 8); also see AHA, Aprovechamientos Superficiales, C 599, E 8719, 1 Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 45 Through a decree issued in 1898, Díaz proclaimed that Otomí farmers would have rights to the water flowing through the Tunnel of Tequixquiac for agricultural use in perpetuity. Additionally, in 1905, the president gave indigenous users the right to use aguas negras in the municipal lands of Tasquillo and Ixmiquilpan, and made the right inalienable by an additional decree in 1908 (AHA, AS, C 109, E 2288, pp. 65-67v). Díaz had first-hand knowledge of the living conditions of the Mezquital Otomí from his days as commander of the Cuartel General del Oriente in the 1860s, which likely influenced his decisions to grant the concessions (cf. AGEM, Gobernación, Vol. 67, Exp. 41, pp. 51-2). The fact that the Mezquital Otomí largely ―sat out‖ the violent phase of the revolution after a century of revolt owes in part to the Porfirian reforms as well as to the promise of prosperity which wastewater irrigation could bring (Graham, 2013). The drawbacks and benefits of having large quantities of raw sewage flowing directly from Mexico City into the Río Tula became evident almost immediately. An early example of the love-hate relationship Mezquital residents would have with aguas negras comes from Mixquiahuala in the 1910s. The farmers of Mixquiahuala had been receiving water from Tequixquiac since 1896, and in 1911 requested a greater allotment (AHA, AS, C4484, E59323). In the following year, they complained that the companies responsible for their own irrigation networks, as well as the hacendados of the Zumpango region, were using more water than their rights stipulated, and demanded that the Ministry of Development (Secretaría de Fomento) stop the overdraw (AHA, AS, C4467, E59001). Two years later, in 1914, the community petitioned Fomento again, except this time they complained that the levels of salts in the water from Lake Texcoco and the sewage from Mexico City had damaged their fields and rendered them unusable (AHA, AS, C4481, E59267). Nonetheless, Mixquiahuala farmers asked Fomento to formalize their wastewater irrigation rights in 1916 because of the privations they had suffered at the hands of the Compañía Hidroeléctrica e Irrigadora (AHA, AS, C4481, E59265). A report from Ixmiquilpan in 1904 revealed that the northern Mezquital was also feeling the negative consequences of the hydrological union. In a letter dated November 7, Marín Yañez, one of the region‘s largest landholders and the town‘s jefe político, informed Fomento It is not possible for this office to make an analysis of the water and speak with exactitude about its contents, but it can note the damages it inflicts on agriculture, fish and public health, and propose methods that it deems appropriate [to remedy them]. Since the common lands were divided, as I had the honor of carrying out, the smallhold farmers leave their lands fallow only long enough to prepare their lands for the following sowing […. B]ecause of this, they need irrigation[. I]f the water that comes when the plant sprouts is of bad quality, it kills the shoot, leaving the lands barren[. E]ven worse, the substances that the water contains harden the land, which when plowed brings up clods that turn into dust and leave all of the salts the soil has absorbed, rendering it infertile. […] The only water available for general drinking supply and for animals is that of the river. Among individuals it causes stomach illnesses that sometimes develop into malaria [sic, lit. paludismo] because of the corruption of the water from the canal, or its decomposition by the death of fish, causing illnesses such as stomach pain, diarrhea, dysentery, and some other [ailments] in the intestines. On the river banks, the bad odor from water contamination is intolerable, as it also is in the irrigation canals where the Complimentary Contributor Copy 46 Jonathan Graham same waters run; this has to be the cause of the malarial illnesses occurring in all of the riverine communities beginning at Chilcuautla. When it is absolutely necessary to irrigate and the proprietor risks taking the water as it comes, risking all to win all, the water bends the plants at their base to the point of breaking, which mends only with difficulty; this happens because people for this work [of properly irrigating the fields] cannot be found at any price. Regarding livestock, when sheep and goats, beset by thirst, drink the water, they get sick in the intestines and die, and there have even been cases among cattle; the same happens with poultry, with the difference that in most cases it kills them instantly (AHA, AS, C4481, E59260, p. 4, 7-8). All this only four years after the Gran Canal‘s inauguration, and eight years after the first water began to flow. Ixmiquilpan would have to wait until 1914 to have potable water again (AHA, AS, C634, E9157). Work continued throughout the Mexican Revolution on expanding the irrigation networks in the Mezquital. By 1920, wastewater regularly irrigated 10,000ha of land in the Tula region, thanks to the creation of the Taximay and Requena dams. The Compañía de Luz y Fuerza completed work on Taximay in 1912. Since 1933, when the National Irrigation Commission (CNI) had the cordon raised to 34m, Taximay has had a capacity of 42.7 million m3 (Cervantes-Medel & Armienta, 2004, pp. 477). Work commenced on the Requena dam in 1912 and was completed in 1919. After the cordon was raised in 1930, the dam had a capacity of 70.67 million m3. Smaller reservoirs built for irrigation purposes during the period include Tlamaco, El Tablón, Las Cadenas, El Nopal, and Debodhé, while the Juandhó, La Cañada, and Elba dams were built to supply hydroelectric plants (Cervantes-Medel & Armienta, 2004, p. 8; Peña, 2000, 71).10 The Endhó dam, however, would prove to be the most important reservoir for the future of wastewater irrigation in the Mezquital. The Sercretaría de Recursos Hidráulicos (SRH) built the dam between 1947 and 1949 to hold the majority of the aguas negras coming from Mexico City (Anzaldo Lara, 1995, pp. 8). With a capacity of 144 million m3 and a cordon 45m high, the Endhó is the largest dam in the Mezquital as well the State of Hidalgo. The Endhó Dam, which today receives 80% of Mexico City‘s wastewater, also holds the ignoble title of ―la cloaca mas grande del mundo,‖ or the world‘s biggest sewage reservoir.11 The Requena, Taximay, and Endhó dams served three crucial functions for the maintenance and expansion of the wastewater networks. First, they allowed for more land to be brought under irrigation. Second, the dams regularized the flow of water so that fields could be irrigated year-round. Third is perhaps most important of all: though only dimly understood at the time, holding aguas negras in a reservoir for a period of time has the dual benefit of allowing solar radiation to break down many harmful substances while letting others settle out. In essence, the dams serve the same role as settlement or oxidation ponds do in modern sewage treatment plants (cf. Instituto Mexicano del Petróleo, p. 8). Change in the irrigation system loomed on the horizon in the mid-1920s as municipalities, riparian landholders, and indigenous communities began to challenge the companies‘ and hacendados‘ wastewater rights. Additionally, the federal government 10 11 ibid, 8; Peña, op. cit., 71. ibid. ―Detectan en la presa Endhó cianuros y metales pesados,‖ La Jornada, June 28, 2008; ―Endhó, la ‗cloaca más grande del mundo‘,‖ El Universal, April 28, 2009. Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 47 declared the Río Tula as national property in 1919, as it did to the water flowing within the canals in 1922. In response, many of the proprietors, with the exception of the energy producers of the Juandhó system, began to relinquish their rights and sell their canal systems to the federal government. Requena sold his rights and network in 1927 for 750,000 pesos, which became the core of the Distrito de riego 03 Tula, organized by presidential decree on January 20, 1955 (Anzaldo Lara, 1995, p. 6.; Peña, 2000, p. 69). The idea of using irrigation to bring about the Social Revolution came to the Mezquital not during the Calles period, as had occurred in northern Mexico, but during the sexenio of Lázaro Cárdenas. Indigenista scholars in the capital and Cárdenas himself shifted the objectives of wastewater irrigation in the Mezquital from a modernizing scheme carried out by private interests to a wide-ranging, government-directed reform initiative aimed at ―redeeming‖ the Otomí indigenous population. Cárdenas showed his support of the Otomís— members of the ―raza de bronce‖—by delivering the inaugural address of the Primer Congreso Regional Otomí, held in Ixmiquilpan in 1936 (Memoria del Primer Congreso Regional Indígena, 1938). Two years later, Cárdenas enacted land reforms in the region by creating ejidos and dissolving the haciendas. Scholars including Alfonso Caso, director of the Instituto Nacional Indigenista (INI), Juan Comas, and Miguel de Mendizábal y Othón sought to first understand and then correct what had by then become a pervasive idea—the ―Mezquital problem.‖ According to the theory, the ―problem‖ had begun with the conquest and the encomienda. The imposition of the colonial system had ―frozen‖ Otomí cultural progress, relegating them to a sub-human status. Therefore, while Otomís had preserved the racial and cultural ―purity‖ of the preColumbian past, which deserved praise, they had emerged from the colonial period as living fossils in need of rescue. The prescribed antidote to their misery involved ending their linguistic and economic ―isolation‖ by incorporating them into the revolutionary state—in other words, by making them ―Mexicans.‖ (cf. Madrid Guzmán, 1952). Manuel Gamio, perhaps the most famous of the indigenista scholars, led the efforts to find a solution to the general ―Indian question‖ and the specific ―Mezquital Problem.‖ Gamio headed the Escuela Regional Campesina, founded in the ex-hacienda of El Mexe in 1936, and persuaded UNAM to begin its Summer Institute to investigate the economic, social, political, and ecological bases of the Mezquital problem. Subsequently, from the 1930s to the 1980s, scholars from Mexico and abroad used the Mezquital as a field school for economic, sociological, anthropological, and public health research.12 The overall goal of the social program—improve the living standards of the Otomí—was to be achieved through an expansion of their economic activity, which, in turn, would end their isolation. Gamio encouraged several economic activities including the production of artisanal textiles and pottery, yet he shared the conviction with other indigenistas that, in the case of the Mezquital, progress could only take place through the proliferation of the wastewater irrigation network to areas that could not support crops otherwise (CDI, ―Don Manuel Gamio, Proyecto Valle del Mezquital (1932-1956),‖ 2 vols.). As Gamio suggested in a 1960 article, to bring about social reforms in the region, geography itself had to be overcome (Gamio, 1960). By 1938 and the land reforms, virtually all of the bottomlands between Mixquiahuala and Tula, including the hacienda lands distributed to ejidatarios, had been incorporated into Irrigation District 03 (Jiménez, Siebe, & Sifuentes, 2005, pp. 47-50). In the northern 12 Scholars from the US were part of this wave of research in the Mezquital. See Kenny &Bernard (1973). Complimentary Contributor Copy 48 Jonathan Graham Mezquital, however, expansion occurred much more slowly. As the Río Tula passes through a series of canyons and narrow valleys north of Chilcuautla, the geography of the region offered limited tracts of irrigable land. Consequently, few ejidos received ready-to-irrigate plots; the plots that were given out, moreover, averaged only a few hectares. For the remaining communities, water would have to be brought to them in canals yet to be built. The indigenista program reached new heights in 1951 with the creation of the Patrimonio Indígena del Valle del Mezquital (Indigenous Patrimony of the Mezquital Valley), which institutionalized the search for an answer to the ―Mezquital Problem.‖ An article appearing the year before summarized the motives behind the creation of the PIVM. In ―The Tragedy of the Mezquital,‖ appearing in Excelsior, April 2, 1950, Carlos A. Echanove Trujillo, an academic who had spent time in the region, wrote: In the case of the Mezquital, the indigenous population has neither known how, nor has been able to, use the environment as people with a more advanced culture certainly would have by now. From this perspective, transforming, above all, the mentality of human groups like the Otomí of the Mezquital Valley, whose own mind is their worst enemy [and prevents] their spiritual and material betterment, is of critical importance. If culture is ultimately a psychic phenomenon, derived from others who make up a complete culture, obviously, in the case of social planning for the benefit of a ―primitive‖ community, it has to begin with the mentality of that community (Trujillo, 1950, April 2). Trujillo‘s understanding of the Mezquital problem, echoed by other scholars and politicians, minimized the effects of persistent ecological limitations, colonial subjugation and present marginalization, and instead emphasized cultural inferiority and lack of education. The PIVM‘s structure reflected this high-handed approach toward ―nuestro indio‖ (―our Indian‖) (e. g. Ramírez Beltrán, 1957, pp. 74). Below the honorary president—the President of the Republic—and the executive director (vocal ejecutivo), the PIVM‘s directory board consisted of one representative from each of the federal ministries, a number of anthropologists, and, if requested, representatives of UNESCO, which had played a role in the patrimony‘s creation. The agency‘s large hierarchy, however, left little if any room for Otomí leaders. Though the federal executive branch had created the autonomous organization with a mandate to facilitate ―the study and resolution of the problems that affect the populace of the geographic zone denominated the Mezquital Valley,‖ non-indigenous actors would be in charge of the studies and reform programs (―Acuerdo que crea el Patrimonio Indígena del Valle del Mezquital,‖ 1951, September 1; ―Decreto que crea el Organismo denominado Patrimonio Indígena del Valle del Valle del Mezquital,‖ 1952, December 31). In a conference held December 26, 1951, Quintín Rueda Villagrán, the recently-elected governor of Hidalgo who had been one the central protagonists in the PIVM‘s creation, announced the agency‘s opening. In his speech, the governor stated that: We have the conviction that it is not necessary for the Otomí to leave this region— which, until now, has been unproductive and repellent wherever there is a lack of irrigation—to save themselves from misery. Surely, we cannot strip the Otomí from the land where for centuries they have awaited their economic redemption. No. We want this land to produce. We will plant in it what is appropriate for its climate, and we will teach Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 49 the Indian what it is to be the victor in the struggle against nature (Rueda Villagrán, 1951, p. 11, emphasis added). Despite the racialized rhetoric and the top-down nature of the reforms, the PIVM did effect change by expanding wastewater irrigation and other works. The agency‘s jurisdiction covered the entire Mezquital, but it focused mostly on areas where irrigation had not yet expanded. In partnership with the SRH, the PIVM first set a goal to expand the irrigation networks, using aguas negras and aguas blancas, by 25,000 ha (Sills, 1992, pp. 416-17). In areas that could not utilize wastewater, the PIVM drilled wells and installed pumps for groundwater irrigation, while in the sierras, the agency planted olive trees (in partnership with the National Olive Commission), fruit trees (peach, apricot, and others), and grapevines for viticulture in new collective orchards. By 1970, the PIVM and SRH had installed sewers, community fountains and faucets, as well as concrete canals across the Mezquital, and had surpassed their original goal by irrigating 40,000 ha. (ibid; SRH, 1969, pp. 47-70). Through expanding irrigation, the PIVM generated new wealth in more ways than one. By the late 1960s, irrigation had dramatically increased yields as well as land value; the price of former temporal plots, for example, rose from 3-500 pesos to 20,000 pesos per hectare (CDI, Fondo Documental, D02861, PIVM, ―Actividades del Patrimonio Indigena de Valle del Mezquital, Ixmiquilpan, Hgo., 5 de Abril de 1968,‖ pp. 2). The PIVM‘s successes encouraged the federal government in the 1970s to expand its charter to include the mountainous regions to the north and east. Yet by the time of the PIVM‘s reformation into the Patrimonio Indígena del Valle del Mezquital y la Huasteca Hidalguense (―Decreto por el que se reforma los artículos lo., 2o., 4o., 5o., 6o., 8o., 9o. y 11o…,‖ 1982, December 30), the agency‘s scope of operations had declined from its highwater mark in 1969, and had lost most of its reformist zeal. Developments within the agency including caciquismo—the practice of elites using informal economic and political power to control the indigenous population—one of the ―backward‖ aspects that reformers had wanted to eliminate, threatened to undermine the agency‘s effectiveness and even existence. Sociologist Roger Bartra and his acolytes, whose investigations the PIVM funded, focused on analyzing the roots of cacicazgo in the Mezquital—the region of Mexico, Bartra claimed, where the practice was most entrenched (Bartra, 1978). The agency designed to circumvent the power of the caciques, however, was ultimately overcome by it. The most powerful cacique the Mezquital and the PIVM produced during this time, Alfonso Corona del Rosal, rose to the highest ranks of the PRI, serving as party president and the regent of Mexico City before becoming a serious contender for the presidency. Rosal‘s use of the PIVM‘s directorate for personal empowerment illustrates how the agency had been woven into the clientelist network that connected local caciques to the PRI state by the early 1970s (Villavicencio, 1990, pp. 223-24). During his tenure as director, he cultivated another cacique, known as Don Anselmo, who, with Corona‘s backing, controlled the all-important Junta de Aguas of Ixmiquilpan. By controlling the irrigation canals‘ sluicegates, the junta wielded the power of life or death over crops. With such power, the Junta de Aguas had considerable clout among agriculturalists that made up the majority of the region‘s populace as well as its voting bloc (Calvo, 1972, pp. 725). One researcher noted in 1972 that in the Ixmiquilpan region, Complimentary Contributor Copy 50 Jonathan Graham A strong cacicazgo has controlled the population for years and presently the ideological fight on the national level is reflected strongly here for a simple reason: this cacicazgo is of such magnitude that it has sent [Corona] to the highest realms of national politics as one of their representatives (ibid, p. 724). When internal politics in the PRI turned against Rosal in 1975, President Luis Echeverría undermined Rosal‘s political base by invoking his power as president of the PIVM and removing the cacique from office (Corrales, 1982, pp. 129). From Rosal‘s time as director onward, detractors of the PIVM/PIVMHH accused the agency not only of failing to living up to the promises of bettering the living conditions of the Otomí, but also of rampant corruption, nepotism, and clientelism—in short, of being yet another organism maintaining the dominance of the PRI in Hidalgo. Therefore, few campesinos mourned when President Salinas de Gotari dissolved the defunct organization in 1990 (―De decreto que deroga el decreto publicado en el Diario Oficial…,‖ 1990, December 6). Caciques had informally ruled the Mezquital before the PIVM, and their power and influence stretched far beyond its mandate. In fact, they had played a role in deepening the hydrological union after the Mexican Revolution. In return for their services to the official party, ―the federal executive branch looked for ways to increase the irrigated area, beginning in the 1930s‖ (Oswald Spring, 2011, pp. 148). In addition, the expansion of the wastewater irrigation networks fortified their positions and power locally. Apart from their control of water boards, caciques‘ influence with state and federal bureaucracies often determined when, or if, irrigation canals reached a community. Ejidatarios and others, seeking the security and profits that irrigation might bring, became caciques‘ clients and voted for their selected political candidates, thus perpetuating cacicazgo. In other situations, caciques prevented the transfer of ejido lands. In one notorious case, caciques had colluded with commissioners of the ejido of Mixquiahuala since 1928 to hold 2,000 ha of its land for private use. To keep control of the land, the co-conspirators used violence against the ejidatarios including house burnings and crop seizures. Only in 1974, after forming the Unión de Campesinos Despojados del Ejido de Mixquiahuala, were the ejidatarios able to invade the properties and take back what legally belonged to them (Robles, 1992, p. 201). Over the course of his research in the late 1960s, Fernando Benítez discovered that caciquismo had flourished in the irrigation zones of the Tula valley, which he labeled ―Paradise,‖ as well as in the northern Mezquital, which he named ―Hell.‖ In the fourth volume of his landmark Los indios de México, Benítez titled his section on the Mezquital Otomí ―The book of infamy‖ to call attention to the fact that ―ubiquitous caciquismo, the deterioration of the political system and the agrarian reform have created new latifundia as powerful and degenerative as those of the epoch of Porfirio Díaz‖ (Benítez, 1972, p. 9). Despite the positive ecological changes that had made ―Paradise,‖ ejidatarios still faced a grim socio-political reality. As Benitez put it: Of course the thousands of Otomís who occupy the Tula region, now turned into the paradise that is Irrigation district 03, have benefitted substantially by becoming farmers, but this Eden has its snake, and this snake is named cacicazgo, an infuriating curse from which the inhabitants of the [northern] Mezquital also suffer (ibid, pp. 46-7) Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 51 While caciquismo thrived in the irrigated Eden of the Tula Valley, depriving many ejidatarios of land and a living wage, the snake‘s bite had claimed lives in the north. In one case, ten ejidatarios from Pueblo Nuevo, near Ixmiquilpan, were murdered in April of 1968 at the behest of caciques holding the campesinos‘ lands as private property (ibid, pp. 176-77). The new latifundia Ditto Benítez described differed from the legally-recognized entities of the Porfiriato he compared them to; they had been cobbled together from a patchwork of lands rented, leased, and bought outright from smallholders and ejidos. Razor-thin margins on corn, wheat, and alfalfa put ejidatarios, who relied on the muscle power of their families, at a serious disadvantage to medium- and large-scale farmers who had mechanized their planting and harvesting. Moreover, lack of credit and the decreasing size of their plots left many ejidatarios no choice but to lease their lands to more affluent farmers (ibid, Chapter 1). Changes in the federal law regarding irrigation districts in the early 1970s gave smaller farmers a reason to hope that their situation would improve. The Federal Water Law of 1971 brought the management of all districts practicing grande irrigación directly under the control of the federal government. Throughout the decade, the SRH subsidized the operation and expansion of irrigation districts, including 03 Tula and 100 Alfajayucan. Using the investments, the SRH extended irrigation canals to lands, much of it in ejidos, which previously had been fit only for pasturage (Palacios, 1997, pp. 2). By the end of the 1980s, federal subsidies amounted to three-quarters of irrigation districts‘ budgets. Despite this, most districts had neglected infrastructural maintenance. The Mezquital fit the national pattern: in the 1970s and 1980s, the irrigation districts expanded at the fastest rate in their history, yet the pre-existing infrastructure was beginning to show its age (Palacios, 1997). The financial crisis of the 1980s, however, made continuing the subsidies program impracticable. In order to reduce the federal government‘s financial burden, Congress passed a law in 1992 which replaced the 1971 act and ordered the transfer of irrigation districts‘ operation, maintenance, and management to water user associations. Congress gave the task of overseeing the transfers to the National Water Commission, known as the CNA or CONAGUA, a new bureaucratic body that had replaced the SRH. Part four addresses Mezquital farmers‘ resistance to the transfer (Palacios, 1997, pp. 2-3). As the PIVM‘s influence waned, a new social phenomenon began to take shape across the Mezquital in the 1970s and 1980s: autogestión, or self-management, in which Otomís created organizations to promote literacy, education, and bilingualism in their communities. Villages and farmers also created the Consejo Supremo Hñahñu and the Asociación Civil Comunidades del Valle with the goal of representing themselves before municipal, state, and federal governments. Such organizations continue to represent communities, particularly in the fight over the future of aguas negras use (Robles, 1992, pp. 204-17). Rapid Growth in Tandem: The Mezquital and Mexico City, 1950-1990 Irrigation expansion projects in the Mezquital since 1950 would not have been possible without a simultaneous increase in the volume of water flowing from the capital. Mexico City‘s population boom from 1950 to 1990 required vast new amounts of water for the city‘s residents and industries, as well as a place to drain them afterward. As Mexico City evolved into a sprawling megalopolis, the Mezquital irrigation districts expanded apace (Foster, Gale, & Hespanhol, 1994, p. 12). Complimentary Contributor Copy 52 Jonathan Graham The 1950s represented a turning point in the hydrological union. The first year of the decade witnessed Mexico City‘s worst flood of the 20th century; three-quarters of the city, including downtown and the historic districts, were inundated. The flood served as a reminder that the desagüe was proving inadequate for a city much larger in area and population than it had been in 1900. The Gran Canal, moreover, had begun to lose its slope from subsidence— the process it had begun—greatly reducing its drainage capacity. In addition, the central parts of the city were sinking at accelerated rates. One sign of this came in 1950, when pumps had to be installed at San Lázaro to get the city‘s sewage into the Gran Canal (Tortajada, 2003, pp. 128). In 1954, the second Tequixquiac tunnel opened, bringing some relief to the overstrained system, but administrators realized it would be insufficient as the city continued to grow—and sink. Subsidence had also reversed the positions of the capital and Lake Texcoco. In 1910, the lakebed of Texcoco had stood 1.9m below Mexico City; by 1970, however, downtown Mexico City had sunk 5.5 meters below it (Breña Puyol, 2003). President Díaz Ordaz commissioned the next major drainage project, the Drenaje Profundo (Deep Drainage), in 1967 to: fundamentally relieve the Gran Canal, avoiding an overflow which might cause a catastrophe by flooding the central and most valued part of the city with more than two meters of water (Memoria…Drenaje Profundo, Vol 1., 1975, pp. 58). The Drenaje Profundo, a 6.5m-diameter tube conducting water from Mexico City to the Río Salado, rivaled the Gran Canal in scale—3.5 million m3 of material excavated, 1.4 million m3 of concrete poured, and 21,000 tons of rebar used for reinforcement (ibid, xxxiii). Its completion in 1975 marked the last major drainage project in Mexico City for more than 25 years (―Programa de Sustentabilidad Hídrica,‖ 2007, November 8). Fortunately, the Drenaje Profundo had come online just in time: five years later, the Gran Canal registered a negative slope, requiring another set of pumps to push the water over the ―hump‖ that had formed at canal kilometer 18+500 (López Pérez, 2011, pp. 4). Meanwhile, Mexico City‘s population continued expanding rapidly. In 1930, the city had had a population of 1,229,600. Over the next decade, the number of inhabitants increased by 73.6%, and then 60% and 41.1% in the following twenty and ten years, respectively. The population had quintupled in the space of four decades, bringing the figure to 6,874,100 in 1970. In addition, Mexico City‘s urban zone had expanded beyond the Federal District in the 1950s; a decade later, 17.6% of the urban population lived in the State of Mexico. Two of the four fastest-growing neighborhoods from 1960 to 1970, Nezahualcóyotl and Ecatepec, stood on the former lakebeds of Texcoco and San Cristobál, respectively, putting them at the highest risk of flooding (Memoria…Drenaje Profundo, Vol. 1, 1975, p. 75). The expansion of Mexico City over state and district lines complicated the alreadydifficult task of city administration, planning, and infrastructural development, which led to a water crisis in the 1980s. Most of the immigrants flocking to Mexico City since the 1960s could not afford to live in the city itself. ―Irregular settlements,‖ the term the city government used to refer to the squatter shantytowns (Stanley, 2003, pp. 25-26; Tortajada, 2006, pp. 387), sprouted up outside the city proper in environmentally sensitive regions: the piedmont, where the city‘s aquifers recharge, and the lakebeds. Water and sewer lines extended to these Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 53 unofficially-occupied areas slowly, creating insalubrious conditions for the entire city. By 1980, six million inhabitants in the Zona Metropolitana del Valle de México (ZMVM) lacked indoor plumbing; most of their excrement was thrown out and exposed to the sun. Not only did this effect water quality in the aquifer underlying the city, their excrement, along with that of two million dogs, turned to dust, which winds dispersed over the city. On average, 20 tons/km2 of the dust descended on the capital every month, reaching its highest levels during the dry season (Castro, 2006, pp. 90-1; Sonnenfeld, 1992, pp. 44). Events in the global economy also contributed to the worsening conditions of sanitation and drainage in Mexico City. Stagflation in the early 1980s left Mexico unable to service its foreign debt. Decades of deficit-financed projects ground to a halt, causing much of the water infrastructure to go without proper maintenance. The Drenaje Profundo—often referred to as the most important pipe in Mexico (e.g., Ellingwood, 2008)—pumped water out of the Valley of Mexico continuously for fifteen years (1976-1991) without being serviced. When the water was finally diverted so the pipe could be inspected, the team of engineers conducting the inspection discovered that the constant flow of water and suspended solid waste had scoured a groove averaging six inches deep along the bottom of the solid steel pipe (Castro, 2006, pp. 113-18; National Academy of Sciences, 1995, p. 6). By the early 1990s, the municipal government had mostly lost the battle to keep water infrastructure intact while the city continued to sink. The amount of potable water lost to leakage equaled or slightly exceeded all of the water provided by the Cutzamala system (discussed below). As potable water generally flows from the west to the east—where, not accidentally, some of the poorest neighborhoods in the ZMVM are located—the volume of available water decreases substantially. Even today, five percent of houses with indoor plumbing in Nezahualcóyotl rely on water trucks to fill rooftop supply tanks because they either receive no water, or what comes out of the tap is undrinkable. As several studies have shown, by the time water reaches the city‘s easternmost reaches, it contains very high levels of fecal matter and coliforms which infiltrate the system through the leaks and breaks in the piping. In these conditions, drainage, water treatment, and water access became central planks of political campaigns in the eastern half of the city, as they continue to be today (Tortajada, 2006, p. 15-16). The demographic explosion of the city and its expansion onto the former lakebeds in the 1960s and 70s has locked Mexico City into a vicious cycle of sinking, flooding, and lack of potable water. Rapid urbanization placed a high demand on new drainage works to prevent flash flooding in low-lying areas. Simultaneously, hundreds of wells were drilled into the Mexico City Aquifer to provide potable water for millions of internal migrants. The overexploitation of the aquifers led to drawdown, which in turn exacerbated subsidence, and created yet more need for efficient drainage. Though the hydrological union had always been tilted in favor of the capital, the rapid expansion of Mexico City‘s metropolitan area made the basin even more dependent on the Mezquital. (Table 2) Complimentary Contributor Copy 54 Jonathan Graham Table 2. The rapid expansion of Mexico City’s metropolitan area/ Dependent on the Mezquital Expansion of the irrigation networks, 1896-201013 Wastewater received in the Mezquital, 18962004.14 Year Irrigation Area Year (Mm3) Year Mexico City ZMVM 1896 TlaxcoapanTlahuelilpan 1896 60 1895 476,400 -- 1920 10,000ha 1931 238 1900 541,500 -- 1926 14,000ha 1952 513 1910 720,800 -- 1931 25,000ha 1960 700 1921 906,100 -- 1950 28,000ha 1965 500 1930 1,229,600 -- 1960 38,000ha 1968 881 1940 3,050,400 -- 1972 39,500ha 1970 975 1960 4,870,900 5,125,000 1970s 70,000ha 1975 925 1970 6,874,100 8,816,000 1980s 74,200ha 1980 1,225 1980 8,831,079 12,333,833 1990s 99,400ha 1985 1,125 1990 8,235,744 15,563,795 2010 120,000ha 1990 1,150 2000 8,605,239 18,396,677 1995 1,160 2010 8,851,080 20,116,842 2004 1,500 Population increase in the Mexico City metropolitan area, 1895-201015 PART III. THE HYDROLOGICAL UNION AT PRESENT The Water Infrastructure of the Union: Supply and Distribution in Mexico City Currently, Mexico City‘s municipal water system receives 35m3/s of the liquid, which is distributed through 690km of water mains and 10,000km of secondary pipes. The secondary system also contains 243 storage tanks with a capacity of 1.5 million m3 of water and 227 pumping stations. The network supplying water to the distribution mains includes 910km of 13 Adapted and compiled from Cisneros Estrada, (Date unknown, pp. 7). Compiled from Memoria...Drenaje Profundo, Vol. I, (1975, p. 59); Cervantes-Medel & Armienta, (2004, p. 491); Foster & Chilton, (2004, p. 116). Pérez, Jiménez, & Chávez, (2000, p. 2). 15 Memoria…Drenaje Profundo, Vol. I, (1975, p. 71); GDF, GEM, and SSA SEMARNAT, (2003, p. 2-10, 2-12). SEDESOL, CONAPO, INEGI, (2007, p. 34). 14 Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 55 primary network pipes, 524km of aqueducts and conduction lines, and 11,900km of distribution pipes. Twenty-seven stations treat approximately 60% of the water supply (Ruíz & Ruíz, 2013, p. 368). The Mexico City Aquifer provides 73% of the city‘s potable water (CONAGUA, 2010, p. 105). The extraction rate of the valley‘s aquifers ranges between 25m3/s and 45m3/s, 173% greater, on average, than its recharge rate. The overexploitation of the aquifer, in turn, causes a general subsidence rate of 10cm/year. Areas of the city on the former lakebeds sink at the fastest rates: neighborhoods surrounding the Mexico City airport sink between 15 and 25 cm each year, while soil compaction in Xochimilco, Tláhuac, Ecatepec, Netzahuacoyótl and Chalco cause areas to subside at rates as high as 40cm/year (Ruíz & Ruíz, 2013, p. 368). The Lerma (6%) and Cutzamala systems (18%), which bring water from outside of the basin, and the rivers and springs within it (3%) supply the remainder of the city‘s water. The Cutzamala System takes water from the basin of the same name, located more than 100km west of Mexico City, and transports it across the Lerma Basin to the western base of the Sierra de las Cruces. Then, a series of pumps hauls the water up more than a vertical kilometer (1,100m) over the mountains and then down to the basin floor, thereby adding 485 million m3 a year to the city‘s supply network. In delivering the water to Mexico City, the Cutzamala System consumes 0.6% of all energy produced in the country, at a cost of US$ 141,850,000 per year (US$ 388,619 per day) (CONAGUA, 2010, p. 105). After the Cutzamala system began to deliver water to the basin of Mexico in 1991, it united four drainage areas: the Valley of Mexico, the Mezquital, the Lerma Basin, and the Cutzamala Basin. To put this in perspective: water which would otherwise flow to the Pacific Ocean in the Cutzamala Basin is pumped into a former endorheic basin 2,400m above sea level, and then drained into the Mezquital, where, if the water does not deposit in aquifers, it continues on to the Pánuco and deposits in the Gulf of Mexico. Even this massive water engineering system has not corrected Mexico City‘s water deficit. The Cutzamala and Lerma Systems contribute 20m3/s to the water supply; however, broken pipes, mostly in the eastern half of the city, leak 25m3/s into the soils (Robles, 2011, June 5; also see Part 4). CONAGUA and other governmental agencies have thus continued to search for other exploitable sources of water, including in the Mezquital. The Wastewater Economy of the Mezquital Officially, Irrigation Districts 03 and 100 cover 85,000ha; however, between 100,000 and 120,000ha receive wastewater from the 3,000km of canals crisscrossing the Mezquital.16 The Tula Valley alone possesses 22% of all land irrigated with wastewater in Mexico, and receives 30% of the volume (Chavez, Rodas, Prado, Thompson, & Jiménez, 2012, pp. 77). The districts have more than 50,000 registered users, divided almost equally between private concessionaries and ejidatarios (―Operarios, obligación histórica de la Federación…,‖ 2004, June 12). Though many ejidatarios possess only a fraction of a hectare of cultivable land, the 16 ―Rechazan campesinos de Hidalgo asumir control de distritos de riego,‖ (2004, June 12) gives the total irrigated area at 120,000 in districts 03 and 100, while a more recent article (―La region más contaminada, Presa Endhó,‖ 2014, January 21) states that the irrigated zone covers 100,000ha. Both articles, however, cite CONAGUA officials. Complimentary Contributor Copy 56 Jonathan Graham average plot size within the irrigation districts rises to 1.5ha when private concessionaries‘ fields are included (World Health Organization, 1997, p.5). Considered jointly, the Mezquital irrigation districts represent one of the most important agricultural regions in the country, ranking third in overall production by 2002 (IMP, pp. 111). In the early 1990s, districts 03 Tula and 100 Alfajayucan were already producing onequarter of the national chile and alfalfa harvests (Robles, 1992, pp. 195). The USDA reported in 2003 that thanks to the Mezquital‘s high yields, Hidalgo produced twice the amount of alfalfa of any other state save Guanajuato (USDA 2003). Presently, districts 03 and 100 produce 73.4% of all green alfalfa grown in the nation‘s irrigation districts (3,170,171 tons/year, CONAGUA, 2011a, pp. 98) and 60% of the crops grown in the state (Cruz Sánchez, 2011, March 12). Mezquital agriculturalists dedicate 30% of irrigable land to alfalfa, while secondary crops include forage oats, corn, beans, marrow, and tomatoes. In smaller plots, farmers also grow spinach, lettuce, chiles and cilantro and sell them in markets in Toluca, Mexico City, and Pachuca. Dairy conglomerates Nestlé, Santa Clara, and Lala use alfalfa produced in the Mezquital to feed their cows in neighboring regions, while transnational corporations including Pilgrim‘s Pride purchase Mezquital‘s corn for poultry production (Cuenca, 2008, June 9). In total, CONAGUA estimates that the fodder and foodstuffs grown in the irrigation districts have a yearly market value of $2.25 billion pesos (~US$ 173 million) (CONAGUA, 2011a, pp. 219; Lucho-Constantino, Álvarez-Suárez, Beltrán-Hernández, Prieto-García, & Poggi-Varaldo, 2005, pp. 58). 250,000 people directly participate in wastewater agriculture, while 500,000 people—one-quarter of the state‘s population—benefit from the larger wastewater economy.17 Regional agricultural statistics, however, disguise the inequalities between large and smallholders. With ninety percent of its population falling at or below the poverty line, Hidalgo has become an ―emerging region‖ of immigration to the US (―Hidalgo, entre las 10 entidades más pobres de México,‖ 2010, April 11). From 2002 to 2012, the state jumped from ninth to fifth place in the percentage of its workforce that had migrated (―Hidalgo, entre los 5 estados con más migración,‖ 2012, March 6). Within Hidalgo, the Mezquital presents the highest rates of outmigration. Although much of the Mezquital has become an irrigated vergel (orchard), the economic miracle planners envisioned has not materialized for many campesinos; as a consequence, the Mezquital, and specifically the northern Mezquital, exhibits high outmigration rates. International migration began with the Bracero program in the 1940s, accelerated in the 1970s, and boomed in the 1990s. The municipio of Ixmiquilpan in 2000, with 10% of its populace living in the US, claimed the state‘s highest migration rate, as well as its highest remittance rate (Serrano Avilés, 2006, pp. 54-9, 65, 77-8). Mezquital Otomí migration forms a distinct subset within Mexican migration to the United States; Las Vegas, Nevada and Clearwater, Florida, for example, today have sizeable hñahñu communities. Males seeking temporary work as field hands in US farms and orchards make up a disproportionate number of the migrants. In a phenomenon the state government has termed ―swallow migration‖ (movimiento golondrino), an estimated 150,000 Mezquital inhabitants migrate to and from the US with the seasons (Camacho, 2006, September 17; Fabre Platas, 2004, pp. 56-7). Other migrants, however, do not return. As a consequence, by 17 According to the letter of José Antonio Cabrera Quintanar, state director of CONAGUA, included in ―Correo Ilustrado‖, op. cit. Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 57 2030, the population of the municipio of Ixmiquilpan is predicted to decrease 17% from its 2000 level (Serrano Avilés, 2006, p. 61; Quezada Ramírez, 2008, p. 54). Ecological Consequences of a Century of Wastewater Use Although hundreds of dams and storage tanks in the Cutzamala System, the Valley of Mexico, and the Mezquital make the hydrological union possible, human bodies represent the key reservoirs for wastewater agriculturalists. Recent studies in Irrigation District 03 reveal how much the hydrological union has altered natural rhythms and processes. According to a 2012 report, the beginning of the dry season can now be dated precisely to Semana Santa (the week before Easter), which is ―due to inhabitants leaving Mexico City on vacation [which] causes a decrease in the flow of water coming from the City‖ (Venado & Viquiera, 2012, pp. 6-7). A direct relationship exists, in other words, between the number of humans in the city, their use of utilities, and the amount of irrigation water available in the Mezquital. Moreover, the constant flow of wastewater has shifted the agricultural season by months. The natural dry season runs from October to April; the new, ―irrigated‖ dry season beginning with Semana Santa lasts into the summer, the traditional rainy season. During the new dry season, when the volume of irrigation water decreases, conflict over the liquid increases substantially. In a sense, then, an inverse relationship also exists between the number of bodies in Mexico City and conflicts in the Mezquital. The human excrement that makes wastewater irrigation so productive forms only one part of the desagüe. Of the average 52m3/s of water flowing from the Valley of Mexico in 1995, 12m3/s consisted of stormwater and 40m3/s wastewater (Jiménez, Siebe, & Cifuentes, 2005, p. 36). Storm runoff currently amounts to 20% of the yearly outflow, while sewage contributes the remaining 80%. Two distinct sewage ―streams‖ merge before leaving the Valley of Mexico: a stream of domestic waste (57%) and another of industrial waste (43%). At present, only 6% of the wastewater entering the Mezquital receives any form of treatment; therefore, the fecal-borne parasites from the domestic stream and toxic waste from the industrial remain in the mix of 180,000 tons of suspended solids carried into the Mezquital every year (CONAGUA, 2009). The Domestic Stream With the water and the free fertilizer in the domestic stream, irrigation in the Mezquital produces much higher yields—150% for corn and 100% for barley, for example—than areas irrigated with clean water (Jiménez, 2005, pp. 348). Irrigated plots receive ―2,400kg of organic matter, 195 kg of nitrogen, and 81 kg of phosphorous per hectare per year‖ from wastewater (Qadir, 2013, p. 438). Nitrogen use efficiency as a consequence exceeds 85%, making additional fertilizer inputs largely unnecessary (Siebe, date unknown). Farmers in the Tula Valley irrigate their fields, on average, fifteen times a year with amounts ranging from 170mm to 240mm per unit of land. Otherwise put, fields annually receive 2.55 to 3.6 meters of wastewater—more than five times the highest annual precipitation rate in the Mezquital— Complimentary Contributor Copy 58 Jonathan Graham allowing alfalfa raisers to have up to ten harvests a year (Chavez, Rodas, Prado, Thompson, & Jiménez, 2012, p. 77). Illnesses linked to wastewater use have been present in the Mezquital since the beginning of the hydrological union (e.g., Echanove Trujillo, 1952, p. 126). Inhabitants across the Mezquital suffer from various intestinal diseases and infections, the most common being gastritis. Raw wastewater introduces bacteria and parasites found in human digestive systems—fecal coliforms, helminths, and giant roundworm (Ascaris lumbricoides) chief among them—into the region‘s water regime. Other ailments common to wastewater districts have appeared in the Mezquital, including cysticercosis, an infection of the pig tapeworm in humans. In 1990, doctors treated 161 cases of the infection over eighteen months, giving the region the unwelcome distinction of having the highest rate of infection in the world (Valle del Mezquital, primer lugar mundial en cisticercosis, 1990, May 29). The dams of the wastewater system, however, greatly reduce concentrations of waterborne parasites. Moreover, transport of aguas negras to the Mezquital in open, unlined canals also improves water quality as it travels. As mentioned above, the dams receiving aguas negras act as a settlement pond, allowing many harmful elements to precipitate out of the water and leaving the water flowing out of the dams significantly cleaner (Siemens, Huschek, Siebe, & Kaupenjohann, 2008, p. 2126). Settlement in dam catchments, however, reduces concentrations of only some parasites and bacteria. Those with smaller size and mass, including fecal coliforms (2-3 µm), do not precipitate out of the water as efficiently and require extended periods of storage for solar radiation to break them down (Jiménez, Siebe, & Cifuentes, 2005, p. 40). In general, however, a number of investigators have concluded that the ―natural‖ filtration process in the Mezquital wastewater system is equal or superior to primary treatment in a plant (World Health Organization, 1997, pp. 4-11). Another consequence of using Mexico City‘s untreated waste—the accumulation of pharmaceutical compounds in Mezquital soils—has begun to receive attention only recently. Three studies published in the last five years have compared sales records of common drugs in Mexico City with known human excretion rates to estimate the speed of accumulation in irrigated soils. Researchers discovered that while wastewater flowing into the Mezquital contained five drugs that exceeded the US FDA‘s concentration limit, the time it spent in the Endhó reservoir decreased concentrations of most drugs significantly (Siemens, Huschek, Siebe, & Kaupenjohann, 2008, pp. 2126). Acidic compounds had accumulated at very low rates (0-7%), while basic compounds had accumulated at slightly higher rates (0-25%). Only one medication, Carbamazepine, showed high rates of accumulation (55-107%) (Siemens, Huscheck, Siebe & Kaupenjohann, 2008; Dalkmann, 2012; Gibson, Durán-Álvarez, Estrada, Chávez, & Jiménez Cisneros, 2010). The Industrial Stream In contrast to the domestic stream which provides both water and fertilizer, the main benefit of the industrial stream in wastewater irrigation is the increase in volume. The additional water, however, comes at a high price. Untreated industrial wastewater, as the Mezquital presently has no choice but to accept, changes how soils react to pollutants over the long term. Numerous studies have demonstrated that although industrial waste has flowed into the Mezquital for a century, the soils of the irrigation zones (vertisols, leptosols, and Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 59 phaeozems) have retained a remarkable ability to minimize heavy metal sorption (LuchoConstantino, Álvarez-Suárez, Beltrán-Hernández, Prieto-García, & Poggi-Varaldo, 2005; Reyes-Solís, Solís, Isaac-Olive, García, & Andrade, 2009). Throughout the irrigation zones, soils contain higher-than-normal amounts of copper, zinc, nickel and manganese, yet fall below maximum acceptable levels set by the Mexican government, the US EPA and the EU. Fields irrigated with wastewater for several decades show higher levels of several metals, while the oldest fields display even higher levels of lead, cadmium, and copper. In each of these cases, however, concentrations are ―not at hazardous conditions‖ (Ramírez-Fuentes, Lucho-Constantino, Escamilla-Silva, & Dendooven, 2002, p. 187) Near-limit levels of boron and chromium represent exceptions to the rule.18 On the other hand, long-term industrial wastewater use has affected the soils‘ microbial communities, and thus the process of mineralization that makes nutrients available to plants. The concentrations of one fungus crucial to agricultural soils (arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi) have decreased significantly in Mezquital plots irrigated for more than ninety years. As fungi give crops ―greater tolerance to toxic metals and other adverse conditions in the soil,‖ their reduction presents a double threat to crops (Ortega-Larrocea, Siebe, Becard, Mendez, & Webster, 2001, pp. 155). Lower numbers of bacteria and fungi and elevated levels of heavy metals in the soils also impede the process of nitrogen fixation, despite the buildup of organic matter (sewage). As a result, while ―characteristics of the soils appear not to have deteriorated after years of application of wastewater,‖ (Ramírez-Fuentes, Lucho-Constantino, EscamillaSilva, & Dendooven, 2002, pp. 187) the lack of nitrogen mineralization leaves today‘s farmers in the Mezquital as dependent on the wastewater to provide fertilizer as they were a century ago (Lucho-Constantino, Álvarez-Suárez, Beltrán-Hernández, Prieto-García, & Poggi-Varaldo, 2005, p. 171; Friedel, Langer, Siebe, & Stahr, 2000). A few rare disorders and illnesses with direct relations to heavy metal pollution such as Itai-Itai and methemoglobinemia have appeared in the region since the 1990s (CONCYTEQ, 1998, pp. 29). While inhabitants, journalists, and health officials suspect that wastewater pollution causes a number of ailments from dermatitis to cancer, those directly attributable to heavy metal contamination have occurred in limited frequency and are often isolated to a small region, such as the areas surrounding the Endhó and Zimapan dams at opposite ends of the Mezquital (―Aguas negras contaminan salud y tierras,‖ 2008, June 10; ―¿De qué se enferman los hidalguenses?‖, 2011, August, 11; Ryan, 1989, p. 420). Effects on Crops and Consumers Apart from the health impacts of wastewater use on producers, the most important question for scientists and policy makers has been whether the vegetables and grains grown in the Mezquital, as well as the milk produced with the region‘s alfalfa, are safe for human consumption. A recent study found that although the soils in Mixquiahuala display relatively high concentrations of heavy metals, the alfalfa grown there only absorbs zinc in high amounts; the rest ―are not transferred efficiently to the cultivated plants‖ (Cajuste, Carrillo, Cota, & Laird, 1991, pp. 763; Solís, 2005, p. 353). Some metals found in lesser quantities 18 (Lucho-Constantino, Álvarez-Suárez, Beltrán-Hernández, Prieto-García, & Poggi-Varaldo, 2005). If maximum boron levels are exceeded, it will lead to crop phytotoxicity. Complimentary Contributor Copy 60 Jonathan Graham such as lead, however, can be efficiently transferred to alfalfa at rates that exceed legal limits. While these metals accumulate in soils over time, at present they still remain ―well below the ‗normal‘ ones reported in the literature‖ (Siebe, 1995, pp. 29-34). Once again, the Mezquital‘s soils, which ―all present high buffer qualities due to their neutral or slightly alkaline reaction‖ prevent the efficient transfer of pollutants (Siebe, 1995, p. 34). In addition, research on milk produced with Mezquital alfalfa has shown that despite the relatively high presence of heavy metals in the soils and lead in the alfalfa, the milk is safe to drink and well below maximum acceptable levels (Solís, Isaac-Olive, Mireles, & Vidal-Hernandez, 2009, p. 12). Though the soils of the Mezquital act as a buffer by inhibiting the efficient transfer of heavy metals to crops, and dairy cows filter out the lead in alfalfa, making their milk safe for human consumption, the same cannot be said for vegetables. In a 1987 report, the US EPA tested vegetables from the region and found that they contained twice the maximum allowable amount of lead (―‗Black Water‘ Makes Valley Bloom,‖ 1990, October 19). Three years after the report (1990), Asiatic Cholera spread north from Peru throughout South and Central America. After hundreds of farmers in the Mezquital exhibited cholera-like symptoms, President Salinas de Gotari officially banned the planting and harvesting of vegetables consumed raw (Pescod, 1992, pp. 29; Simon, 1992, January 11). As CONAGUA agents began to seize banned crops, farmers in the Ixmiquilpan region formed the Crop Defense Committee (Comité en Defensa de las Hortalizas) to protest the prohibition and prevent the agency from destroying their crops (Jiménez, 2005, p. 151). Though many leafy vegetables are still banned, farmers grow spinach, lettuce, squash, zucchini, and other vegetables because of the higher returns relative to alfalfa and forage oats. As most of the vegetables sold in Pachuca, just east of the Mezquital, come from the irrigation districts, researchers have analyzed food from the city‘s restaurants and markets for evidence of the transference of harmful substances from the wastewater. Their findings, published in 2012 and 2013, were alarming. In a test on fresh carrot juice, ―[a]ll samples had poor microbiological quality‖ (Torres‐Vitela, Gómez Aldapa, Cerna‐Cortes, Villarruel‐López, Rangel‐Vargas, & Castro‐Rosas, 2013, pp. 180). Of the 280 samples, 96.8% contained fecal coliforms, over half contained E. coli, and all contained coliform bacteria (ibid). Ready-to-eat salads displayed similar levels of fecal coliforms and had an even higher incidence (85%) of E. coli (Castro-Rosas, Cerna-Cortés, Méndez-Reyes, Lopez-Hernandez, Gómez-Aldapa, & Estrada-Garcia, 2012). In a third study on raw jalapeño and serrano peppers sold in Pachuca‘s markets, once again 100% of the samples tested positive for coliform bacteria, leading the research team to conclude that the peppers ―could be an important factor contributing to the endemicity of … gastroenteritis in Mexico‖ (Cerna-Cortes, Gómez-Aldapa, Rangel-Vargas, Torres-Vitela, Villarruel-López, & Castro-Rosas, 2012, p. 444). Though they did not test Mezquital-grown vegetables in Mexico City, there is little reason to believe the findings would be different. Effects on Groundwater It must be mentioned that the hydrological union has also had positive, if unintended, effects on the Mezquital‘s ecology. The water table has risen since the 1960s and ‗70s, and several springs with flows between 400 and 600 liters per second have appeared. Presently, half a million people rely on these springs for drinking water. Irrigation runoff, Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 61 percolation in fields, and absorption in unlined canals have also created a new system of shallow aquifers covering 87,000 ha with inflows of 25m3/s—the greatest rate of unintentional aquifer recharge in the world (Jiménez, Siebe, & Cifuentes, 2005). These aquifers will determine the future of the hydrological union. CONAGUA and water management specialists in the capital, looking for new sources of water for Mexico City, have carried out a number of tests since 2000 to see whether these new aquifers could help reverse the increasing water deficit in the capital. They estimate that 15 million m3/year of exploitable water remains in the aquifers after local use. (Jiménez, 2005, p. 356; López Álvarez, 2004, pp. 157; Oswald Spring, 2011, pp. 192-3). Once several reports confirmed the feasibility of the project, government officials stated in March, 2006 that tapping the ―mega aquifers‖ could ―solve the water problem as well as stop the overexploitation of the Valley of Mexico‘s groundwater‖ (―Detectan un mega acuífero en zona de Tula,‖ 2006, March 13). CONAGUA thus announced in 2012 that work would commence on the Sistema Mezquital, a network of wells, pumps, and pipes to tap the aquifers and provide more potable water for Mexico City. The quality of the water is considered to be good, thanks to the soils, which act as a ―slow sand filter‖ and remove much of the water‘s impurities before it reaches the aquifers (Muñoz & Mólgora, 2011, pp. 192). Once completed, the Sistema Mezquital will make the hydrological union bidirectional: water flowing from the Basin of Mexico will irrigate crops, eventually deposit into the aquifers, and be pumped back to the city, starting the cycle again (CONAGUA, 2014; Gobierno del Distrito Federal, 2007, iv, 15, 44). PART IV. HACIA EL FUTURO: A DEEPENING OF THE HYDROLOGICAL UNION An illustrated pamphlet published in 1997 tells the story of a father educating his young son on the benefits and dangers of wastewater irrigation in the Mezquital. In one scene, the son asks, ―Papá, why do you say this water has always helped to sustain us if it is so dirty and smelly?‖ The father replies, Son, before [wastewater], we had no water except for what fell from the sky and thus no hay for our animals, but now we have our house made of brick, shoes to wear, you have a full belly and also, if you didn‘t know, this wastewater enriches our lands with the excrement it carries (Grupo Ecologista del Valle del Mezquital, 1997, p. 7). The pamphlet, printed by the Grupo Ecologista del Valle del Mezquital, goes on to argue for the avoidance of overwatering, the introduction of municipal water treatment plants and the improvement of hygienic practices across the region. The ecological group, however, did not call for the end of raw wastewater irrigation. The father‘s reply summarizes the argument of many Mezquital farmers: despite all of the drawbacks to using Mexico City‘s sewage, things are better than they had been before because of it (ibid, 7-24). And as the network grew incrementally, some of them remember the days before the arrival of ―black gold‖ better than others (Cuenca, 2008, June 9; ―El ‗alto costo‘ de las aguas negras,‖ 2008, June 10). Two changes on the horizon threaten to decrease the benefits of the hydrological union in the Mezquital. The first, the transfer of Irrigation Districts 03 and 100, has been underway Complimentary Contributor Copy 62 Jonathan Graham only in the last few years. The other, the Planta de Tratamiento de Aguas Residuales (PTAR) Atotonilco, has not yet been completed. If the fears of many agriculturalists are realized, these changes will have a crippling effect on the Mezquital‘s wastewater agricultural regime. Since the passage of the 1992 water law, the federal government has transferred the responsibility of irrigation districts‘ administration and maintenance to water user boards. Before a transfer can take place, however, user boards must create plans to maintain financial solvency. Most districts have achieved this by increasing water tariffs more than 400%. In an effort to expedite the transfers, CONAGUA pledged to help the irrigation districts modernize their irrigation infrastructure and acquire new equipment. Although 87% of the area of medium- and large-scale irrigation districts had been transferred by 1996, the promises of government assistance after the transfers, however, ―were only partially kept‖ (Palacios, 1997, p.1). At present, 98% of irrigation district modules have been transferred (CONAGUA, 2011b, p. 4) For two decades, CONAGUA has pushed to transfer the Mezquital districts, but some users have staunchly refused. As a result, Irrigation Districts 03 and 100 are the only districts in the nation that have not been fully transferred (ibid, 1, 14-15, 18). The campesinos who continue to resist the transfer fear that politics and higher tariffs will jeopardize the flow of the liquid to their fields. Previous experiences have shown that their concerns are justified. Transfers in other irrigation districts have seen local elites politicize water boards and use them as springboards for careers in state and national government. The creation of a centralized water user board in the Mezquital, where the local juntas de aguas already possess a high level of influence, might leave the door open to a new form of cacicazgo. Farmers would have little choice but to accept the terms dictated by the new water user associations for a simple reason: agricultural productivity in the Mezquital depends on a cheap and uninterrupted supply of wastewater. As a representative for the irrigators in the Actopan region stated in 2006, ―If it weren‘t for these waters, we would die of hunger‖ (Camacho, 2006, October 23). Disturbing as this eventuality may be, other issues require immediate attention. Although the irrigation networks have continued to expand, older infrastructure has fallen into disrepair. Sluice gates, on average, have not been replaced in sixty years, while 1,400 km of canals remain unlined and filled with trash (―Exigen usuarios mejorar canales de riego en Hidalgo,‖ 2002, June 20; ―Productores de la región se niegan a la transferencia …,‖ 2006, October 23). Opponents of district transfer, moreover, relate that unlined canals lose as much as 60% of their water to the soil (Cuenca, 2008, June 9). According to CONAGUA, to clean and modernize the system would require between $1.5 and $3 billion pesos and take up to fifteen years to complete (Camacho, 2006, October 23; Montoya, 2011, August 22). Therefore, the stalemate continues: agriculturalists demand that CONAGUA modernize the system before the transfer, while the agency continues to push for full transfer before maintenance works are complete. Even if CONAGUA does not service the canals before transfer, the price of irrigation will rise (Camacho, 2004, June 12). Privatization would have the greatest impact on the Otomís‘ rights to wastewater. As part of the transfer, CONAGUA will abrogate the 1898 decree giving Otomí farmers the right to use Mexico City‘s aguas negras in perpetuity. To facilitate the transition to a fee-based system that makes no distinction between indigenous and non-indigenous users, CONAGUA will give Otomí farmers a twenty-year concession before they lose all rights to wastewater. The announcement of this provision in the early 2000s provoked violence and the kidnapping Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 63 of state, municipal, and CONAGUA officials (―Secuestran a líder campesino en Ixmiquilpan, Hidalgo,‖ 2001, June 6; ―Retienen indígenas a seis funcionarios en Hidalgo,‖ 2006, June 12). While farmers may be able to adjust to the higher prices in irrigation, the opening of the PTAR Atotonilco will make the transfer even more onerous. The PTAR Atotonilco, scheduled for completion in 2015, will treat raw aguas negras, thereby turning them into aguas grises (gray water). Work on the project began in 2010 after Carlos Slim signed a 9.5billion-peso contract with the federal government for his conglomerate, the CARSO group, to build the treatment plant under the direction of CONAGUA. Despite being the largest treatment plant in Latin America, and the fifth largest in the world, the PTAR Atotonilco at maximum capacity will only treat sixty percent of wastewater flowing into the Mezquital (Norandi, 2010, January 8; CONAGUA, 2013, p. 18). The construction of the PTAR Atotonilco, the first treatment plant in Hidalgo for Mexico City‘s aguas negras, has put Mezquital agriculturalists in a paradoxical situation. While the PTAR will improve health conditions by reducing water-borne diseases, it will also remove organic material from wastewater—the key to the region‘s agricultural success. Academics have debated how much the treatment process will reduce human fertilizer, but there is little disagreement that nitrogen and phosphorous levels will decrease. As far back as 2002, researchers found that due to the soils‘ low nitrogen fixation rate, ―the treatment of the wastewater will dramatically increase the need for inorganic fertilizer to replace the nutrients normally applied with it‖ (Ramírez-Fuentes, Lucho-Constantino, Escamilla-Silva, & Dendooven, 2002, p. 185). At the same time, however, using treated wastewater will allow agriculturalists to legally grow vegetables in such quantities that the irrigation districts ―could produce an amount … equal to the demand from the Metropolitan Valley of Mexico City (MVMC)‖ (Oswald Spring, 2014, p. 5). Mezquital farmers are thus caught between two arguably well-meaning reforms whose implementation could deliver a one-two punch to the wastewater economy. Not only will transfer cause an immediate price hike in wastewater, it could create a new cacicazgo. In addition, water treatment will require farmers to use additional fertilizer to maintain their yields, increasing their outlay. Larger landholders may be able to accommodate the new costs and have the credit to acquire fertilizers, but many ejidatarios will be unable to without outside assistance. A further development threatening the status quo of wastewater irrigation comes not from developments in the capital or sewage treatment, but from other wastewater users. Though Mexico City‘s growth rate has declined from the years of rapid expansion, and the basin‘s drainage capacity has decreased since the opening of the Drenaje Profundo, CONAGUA has worked with the state government of Hidalgo to expand aguas negras irrigation and bring the Mezquital‘s agricultural ―miracle‖ to new regions. In the southeastern Mezquital, Irrigation District 112 Ajacuba, covering more than 4,600 ha was organized in 1998. Two new districts, Tunititlán and Xothó, use wastewater for drip irrigation (CONAGUA 2012b; Cardón, 2013). By giving inhabitants a new source of income, the state government has wagered that the new irrigation districts will reduce the Mezquital‘s high rates of international migration (e.g., ―Inauguración presa de almacenamiento ―El Yathé‖). The State of Mexico‘s adoption of wastewater irrigation, however, has been blamed for the decrease of aguas negras in districts 03 and 100. Four districts presently irrigate 35,000ha with wastewater that would otherwise flow into the Mezquital (CONAGUA, 2012a, p. 140; López, 2013, April 23). Consequently, Complimentary Contributor Copy 64 Jonathan Graham the combined demand for aguas negras over the last decade has outstripped supply on several occasions, redoubling the effects of drought in the Mezquital. The users of the new irrigation districts have become as dependent upon the regular flow of aguas negras as those in the Mezquital, which has introduced an aspect of legal lock-in to the hydrological union. Though conflicts flare and users in one district blame irrigators in another for the lack of water during times of dearth, the presidential decrees that created the districts give each of them inalienable rights to use wastewater. Therefore, the districts furthest ―down-canal‖ that are at the highest risk of losing wastewater—03 Tula and 100 Alfajayucan—have little recourse to challenge the rights of the other districts when alleged overdraw ―up-canal‖ threatens their harvests. In a cruel irony, by showing that using Mexico City‘s aguas negras can produce bumper crops in otherwise unproductive lands, the Mezquital districts have become victims of their own success. To combat district transfer, declining per-farmer volumes of wastewater, and the threat of losing precious fertilizer, campesinos have banded together to form the Movement in Defense of the Wastewater of the Mezquital Valley (MDANVM). Pablo Balleza Estrada, its leader, has not only defended untreated aguas negras use, but also has sharply criticized CONAGUA for not repairing the canals. Balleza‘s criticisms raise an interesting point: if the canals are lined to stop the absorption of wastewater into the soil, as farmers want, the unintentional aquifer recharge will likely decline and make the Sistema Mezquital a less-attractive proposition for Mexico City (―Abandonó Conagua canales de riego en el Valle del Mezquital: campesinos,‖ 2013, March 26; ―CONAGUA condiciona reparación de canaletas de distrito de riego,‖ 2013, April 26). However, another ongoing project, the Túnel Emisor Oriente (TEO)—the first new drainage tunnel into the Mezquital since the second tunnel of Tequixquiac opened in 1954—will help reverse the decrease in water when completed. (―Abandera Calderón Programa de Sustentabilidad Hídrica,‖ 2007, November 8; CONAGUA, 2009, p.4, 2013, p. 23). While the TEO and PTAR Atotonilco may change the volume and quality of the wastewater arriving in the Mezquital, the Sistema Mezquital will change the character of the hydrological union itself. Whereas draining the capital‘s aguas negras into the Mezquital has been portrayed as mutually beneficial, at least in part, pumping water from Mezquital aquifers puts both regions in competition over the same water for the same purpose. If the Sistema Mezquital extracts 6m3/s from the aquifers, as CONAGUA has promised, then the impact on the Mezquital will be slight under normal conditions. However, during years of drought, Mexico City‘s reliance on the Tula aquifers might bring urban and agricultural interests head to head. There have already been signs of things to come. The Mezquital has historically been prone to droughts, but they have been more frequent, and the summers hotter, over the last decade. In June, 2005, temperatures in the Mezquital reached 100 degrees or more, killing cattle and depriving 25 of the state‘s 84 municipalities of sufficient potable water. In the Mezquital, as many as 51,000 ha suffered crop losses. By mid-summer, even the desagüe had been affected: the Endhó and Taxhimay dams held half the wastewater they did the year before (―Podrían declarar desastre agrícola,‖ 2005, June 14). Three years later, in the winter of 2008, Central Mexico suffered its worst drought in forty years. In Irrigation District 03, 10,600 users went without irrigation. Both districts‘ users showed their anger over the 30% decrease in water, but the farmers of Irrigation District 100 were particularly incensed. They accused users ―up-canal‖ in DR03 of overdrawing Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 65 wastewater, leaving nothing for them, and looked to CONAGUA to prevent the users to the south from ―stealing‖ water. In February, hundreds of campesinos traveled to Pachuca, where they held protests and erected roadblocks to draw attention to their situation. When change failed to materialize and the drought continued, campesinos from the northern Mezquital reunited on April 8 in front of the CONAGUA offices in Pachuca, invaded the agency building, and took the regional director, and 170 agency employees hostage (―Exigen Conagua explicación …,‖ 2008, April 9). Then, in September, when campesinos learned that Mendoza Gutiérrez had ―arbitrarily‖ reduced the funds destined for the rehabilitation of existing canals and the creation of new ones, more than 1,000 farmers rode buses to Pachuca, where, once again, they took over CONAGUA offices (―Campesinos del Valle del Mezquital toman oficinas de Conagua,‖ 2008, Sept. 12). During yet another drought in the summer of 2011, average reservoir levels in the Mezquital had dropped to thirty percent capacity. The Endhó Dam, at 32.9%, registered its lowest level since construction. The two dams downstream from Endhó supplying DR 100 Alfajayucan held only 9.2 and 3.4% of their capacity, respectively. Tensions mounted between up-canal and down-canal users at the sluicegates as the lack of wastewater threatened the harvests of 21,000ha in Tula, Alfajayucan, and Ajacuba (―Conagua Hidalgo encamina acciones para reducir afectaciones al campo,‖ 2011, June 8; ―Crítico, el nivel de presas en Hidalgo,‖ 2011, June 3). Several police agencies and the army were called in to prevent further bloodshed and see to a fair division of the remaining wastewater. In an article appearing the day after the supervised division of the waters (―El Ejército y policías vigilan canales,‖ 2011, June 14), El Sol de Hidalgo announced, ―[i]f the army had not intervened, there would have been a civil war over wastewater in the Mezquital.‖ One interviewee added, ―If the Federal Police, the Army, the Task Force, and the Hydraulic Police had not been sent to oversee the equitable distribution of water, today we would be experiencing a tragedy. We would be fighting amongst ourselves, campesino against campesino, man to man‖ (―El Ejército y policías vigilan canales,‖ 2011, June 14). An announcement three days before had added a new sense of urgency to the campesinos‘ demands for aguas negras, as a new claimant to the water had come forward. On June 11, CONAGUA announced that if rains did not come, the Río Tula would be redirected to the capital to supply drinking water. Farmers protested, stating that taking away the last of the water to provision the capital would ruin them financially. Fortunately, the agency never put the plan into action; a hurricane dumped nearly one meter of water on Mexico City shortly thereafter, leaving parts of Ecatepec and the eastern neighborhoods under water (―Conagua exprime presas por sequía,‖ 2011, June 21). Once the Sistema Mezquital begins hauling water back to Mexico City, requisitioning additional amounts of the Mezquital‘s waters will be easier, and the water taken far cleaner. Another severe drought, which global climate change will almost certainly bring to the region, will pit the water rights of Mezquital farmers and towns against that of the megalopolis (cf. de Oca & Pantoja, 2009; López Pérez, 2011). And if the historical precedent of the hydrological union stands, the demands of the city will prevail. Complimentary Contributor Copy 66 Jonathan Graham CONCLUSION The hydrological union of the Basin of Mexico to the Mezquital Valley in 1900 represented the culmination of three centuries of work to provide effective drainage and prevent floods in Mexico City. Having a lower elevation, an outlet to the sea, and the least opposing mountains separating it from the basin made the Mezquital the only serious candidate to receive the basin‘s excess waters. Engineers in the colonial period chose the Mezquital for these reasons; giving the driest region in Central Mexico new water for agriculture would be a side effect rather than a goal. In contrast, irrigation entrepreneurs and the federal government labored jointly during the construction of the Gran Canal to turn the Mezquital into a breadbasket producing for Mexico City. The Porfirian reform idea involved allowing private irrigation companies to develop a canal network benefitting the haciendas, while indigenous farmers in riparian irrigation systems gained the right to use river water in perpetuity. The revolutionary irrigation system that followed it reconceptualized who the irrigation network was supposed to benefit: campesinos, and specifically Otomí campesinos. The Mezquital‘s wastewater regime today bares resemblance to the futures envisioned in both periods. Over the last century, the Mezquital has been a microcosm of national politics and revolutionary reforms in the countryside. From the Cárdenas period to the end of the 1970s, changes in the regional ecology allowed irrigation to expand, making possible a social reform program carried out by academics, bureaucrats, and eventually caciques to ―rescue‖ the Otomí from poverty and marginalization. However, the days of rapid, state-subsidized irrigation expansion ended with the economic crisis of the 1980s. As some farmers have refused irrigation district transfer, the Mezquital‘s irrigation districts, and its ageing infrastructure, have become the last remnant of that age. In most respects, the era of seemingly-limitless amounts of water flowing from Mexico City has ended as well. Districts 03 and 100 now have to share the wastewater with several other districts, and will soon share their aquifers with Mexico City as well. As a consequence, the irrigation practices adopted by farmers in the 1960s and ‗70s that make wastewater irrigation so productive today may soon be impracticable. Scientific research in the Mezquital has shown that the region‘s soils are key protagonists in the hydrological union, as they prevent wastewater irrigation from turning into an ecological disaster. Wastewater irrigation, moreover, has given the region vast new amounts of water for agriculture use as well as drinking water for half a million people. Far from the days before 1900, the region‘s agricultural regime ranks among the most productive in the country. In fact, the wastewater districts in the Mezquital amount to a high-tech recreation of the chinampa system. Just as Tenochtitlán once provided ―night soils‖ to chinamperos, who in turn used them to raise crops for sale in the city‘s markets, Mexico City drains its untreated sewage into the Mezquital, the city‘s orchard and garden. The Mezquital‘s inhabitants have paid a price to benefit from the hydrological union. The soils have accumulated metals that are toxic in large amounts. Infection and morbidity rates from illnesses directly associated with wastewater have affected a sizeable portion of the regional population for over a century. Moreover, the tradeoff between sanitary conditions and economic benefit has fallen unevenly across the region, contributing to the region‘s high levels of migration. Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 67 The paradoxical outcomes of the hydrological union also apply to the crops the region produces. While the Mezquital continues to have the nation‘s highest alfalfa yields, and fodder crops have been declared safe to feed to animals, vegetables grown in the irrigation districts contain dangerous levels of heavy metals and bacteria. Yet the creation of the PTAR Atotonilco, which will decrease contamination in vegetables, make their production legal, and provide a new source of income, will also deprive farmers of the organic materials that have been the lynchpin of high productivity. The water treatment plant will reduce the amount of pollutants and parasites, improving the health of the region‘s inhabitants, but it has presented yet another paradox: farmers fighting against water treatment (Malkin, 2010, May 4). In general, the hydrological union represents a major departure in the environmental histories of both regions that provoked rapid political, economic, and social change. Once the passage of time ―naturalized‖ these changes, dependence on the union grew. The effects of the hydrological union have been dynamic, rather than static: the Gran Canal and subsequent drainage projects unleashed secondary and tertiary consequences that continue to alter the natural and human landscapes. Though the union may have proven mutually beneficial, its political aspects have been unequal from the beginning. President Díaz and the Junta del Desagüe del Valle de México who oversaw the creation of the Gran Canal did not ask the Mezquital‘s inhabitants whether they wanted the basin‘s waters. Similarly, water management specialists in the capital did not question whether the Tula aquifers should be used to provide water for the capital, but rather if building the Sistema Mezquital would provide enough water to justify the expenditure. If the hydrological union turns from benefit to threat, as Mexico City's relationship to the lakes once did, the waves of protest in recent years over the declining amount of wastewater will continue to escalate. 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Hidalgo, entre los 5 estados con más migración: Al año, 20 mil hidalguenses salen de la entidad para buscar oportunidades laborales en Estados Unidos. (2012, March 6). El Universal. Retrieved from http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/notas/834308.html. Inauguración de las obras del desagüe del Valle de México. (1900, March 18). El Mundo Ilustrado, 1. El desagüe del Valle de México. (1900, March 17). El País, 1-2. Ellingwood, Ken. (2008, April 28). This giant basin's plumbing is getting a major overhaul. L.A. Times. Retrieved from http://articles.latimes.com/2008/apr/28/world/fg-drain28. La invasión de polvo en la Metropoli. (1922, May 10). Excelsior, 1. La region más contaminada, Presa Endhó. (2014, January 21). La Jornada. Retrieved from http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2014/01/21/politica/002n1pol. Los climas en los Sistemas Nacionales de Riego. (1930). Irrigación en México, 2(1), 26-34. Malkin, E. (2010, May 4). ―MIXQUIAHUALA JOURNAL: Fears That a Lush Land May Lose a Foul Fertilizer.‖ New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/ 2010/05/05/world/americas/05mexico.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0. Montoya, J. R. (2011, August 22). Sin mantenimiento en 100 años, entregarán distrito de riego 003,‖ El Independiente de Hidalgo. Retrieved from http://www.elindependien tedehidalgo.com.mx/2011/08/32313. Complimentary Contributor Copy A Tale of Two Valleys 79 Mota López, D. (2013, April 23). Afectadas 50 mil hectáreas en Hidalgo por recorte de agua. El Universal. Retrieved from http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/notas/918618.html/. Norandi, M. (2010, Jan 8). Slim firma contrato para construir en Hidalgo planta de tratamiento de aguas,‖ La Jornada, 5. Retrieved from http://www.jornada.unam.mx/ 2010/01/08/politica/005n2pol. Operarios, obligación histórica de la Federación: labriegos. Comienza lucha en valle de Mezquital contra transferencia de aguas negras. (2004, June 12). La Jornada. 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Productores de la región se niegan a la transferencia de los distritos de riego Canales del valle del Mezquital, abandonados. (2006, October 23). La Jornada. Retrieved from http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2006/10/23/index.php?section=estados&article=038n2est. Retienen indígenas a seis funcionarios en Hidalgo. (2006, June 12). El Universal, 19: 11. Retrieved from http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/notas/355118.html. Robles, J. (2011, June 5). Debe parar irracional extracción del agua. El Universal. Retrieved from http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/notas/770510.html. Rodríguez, A. (1951, January 30). Con los Otomíes, en una Tierra sin Clemencia. El Nacional. Page unknown. Manuel Gamio Collection titled, ―Don Manuel Gamio: Proyecto Valle del Mezquital (1932-1956)‖ CD 2, Exp. 36, Doc. 1, at the CDI‘s Biblioteca Juan Rulfo, Mexico City. Schmetzer, U. (1968, July 22). Mexico Reviving ‗Valley of Death‘. The Washington Post, Times Herald, A8. Secuestran a líder campesino en Ixmiquilpan, Hidalgo. (2001, June 6). El Universal. Retrieved from http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/notas/2123.html. Simon, J. (1992, January 11). Mexico—The Black Waters rise in the Valley of Tears. Farmers are glad to water their crops with untreated, cholera-laden waste from neighbouring Mexico City. Fleeing the disease would not help support a family. The Globe and Mail, D2. Una gran empresa. Irrigación y energia eléctrica. Obras Soberbias. (1898, December 8). Periódico Oficial del Estado de Hidalgo, 2. Valle del Mezquital, primer lugar mundial en cisticercosis. (1990, May 29). La Jornada, 10-A. Valley Drainage; Inaugurated formally by the President; A Banquet Given and a Speech Made by Gen. Díaz. (1900, March 18). The Mexican Herald, 16. Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 3 CONSERVATION CHALLENGES IN MEXICO: DEVELOPING A PROTECTION STRATEGY FOR THE THREATENED SAND DUNES OF COAUHILA’S LA LAGUNA Cristina García-De La Peña 1, Cameron Barrows 2, Héctor Gadsden 3, Mark Fisher 2, Gamaliel Castañeda 1 and Ulises Romero-Méndez 1 1 Universidad Juárez del Estado de Durango, Mexico 2 University of California, CA, US 3 Instituto de Ecología A. C., Mexico ABSTRACT In situ ecosystem-based conservation is one of the biggest challenges for the protection of biodiversity in Mexico. Several different strategies have been established to engage landowners in maintaining ecologically important areas. The sand dune ecosystem of Coahuila´s La Laguna, is an example of an area rich in biodiversity although not yet protected from the threats of burgeoning human populations, exotic species invasions, climate change, and the loss of critical ecosystem processes that maintain the sand dune habitat quality. This area includes a rich saurian fauna where seven species of endemic lizards live in the mountains around the sand dunes and one endemic species lives within the sand dune habitat, the Coahuila fringe-toed lizard, Uma exsul, is an endangered species. In this chapter we describe the processes that maintain sand dunes dynamics, the stressors to that habitat, and the importance in adopting an ecosystem-based conservation for the protection of regional biodiversity wide range. We also describe the current national policies and social implications in developing a protection strategy for this ecosystem. One approach necessitates that inhabitants of these ecologically important areas become proponents of the management needed to both promote the maintenance of biodiversity and provide them with economic and quality of life benefits. Under this scheme the protected areas in Mexico would likely expand, benefiting all. Complimentary Contributor Copy 82 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Keywords: Biodiversity, ecosystem, conservation strategies, sand dunes, and In situ protection INTRODUCTION In Mexico, an understanding of the serious implications of the loss of biodiversity has yet to transcend all sectors of society (CONABIO-PNUD, 2009). The available scientific information, awareness-raising campaigns and formal and informal environmental education have not generated a similar collective concern for biodiversity as have other environmental concerns that have more immediate effects on human welfare, such as air pollution or water shortages. Yet protecting biodiversity is clearly linked to ecosystem services such as watershed and aquifer maintenance, and air quality (Mace, Norris & Fitter, 2012). In situ ecosystem-based conservation is now one of the biggest challenges for the protection of biodiversity in Mexico (CONABIO-PNUD, 2009). Here we define ecosystem processes as abiotic and biotic processes that maintain and influence the characteristics, distribution, and abundance of natural communities and species at multiple, temporal and spatial scales. Those characteristics, distributions, or abundances are not static; they change in response to the inherent dynamics of ecosystem processes such as fire, drought, flooding, and erosion. The dynamics of intact ecosystem processes can support genetic and phenotypic diversity by maintaining the spatial and temporal variability of ecological conditions across landscapes and communities. Conservation benefits of that spatial and temporal variation can include buffering against extinctions (Koelle & Vandermeer, 2005), promoting species richness and diversity (Christensen, 1997), and facilitating an on-going evolutionary potential to cope with a changing environment (Antonovics 1968, Christensen 1997). Conservation efforts may ultimately fail unless factors affecting environmental variability and species‘ persistence (i.e. ecosystem processes) are also incorporated in reserve designs (Salomon et al., 2006). In Mexico there are several different strategies for implementing in situ conservation for species protection, each of which involves great challenges. The most popular strategies include protecting areas, designating units for conservation and management of wildlife, and payment schemes for ecosystem services, each of which covers a specific field of conservation that can be supplemented with others to promote comprehensive protection. Interactions underlying ecosystem processes that maintain ecological services (benefits arising from the ecological functions of healthy ecosystems like maintenance of biodiversity, decomposition of wastes, soil and vegetation generation and renewal, pollination of crops and natural vegetation, seed dispersal, greenhouse gas mitigation, and aesthetically pleasing landscapes) are key considerations in whichever conservation strategy is adopted. SAND DUNES IN THE SPOTLIGHT Desert sand dunes are often centers of endemism (species occurring within a unique and well-defined geographic area), especially for arthropods (Barrows 2000, 2012), plants, and lizards (Robinson & Barrows, 2013). Protecting these habitats is complicated due to their dynamic character (Barrows, 1996). Ecosystem processes such as fluvial and aeolian sand Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico 83 transport that contribute to desert sand dune dynamics are well understood (Lancaster 1995). Those dynamics occur at temporal and spatial scales that facilitate conceptual and predictive modeling, leading to an understanding of how variation in ecosystem processes affects the character of the dunes and thus the number and type of species that will find a suitable habitat there (Barrows & Allen 2007, 2010). The challenge lies in creating conservation designs that will capture and encompass that variation. Here we present an example in the terminal basin of the Aguanaval and Nazas Rivers (hereafter referred to as La Laguna) located in the Chihuahuan Desert in the states of Coahuila and Durango, Mexico (Figure 1). This area includes a species-rich saurian fauna (Chart 1; Barrows et al., 2013), and has at its core sand dune habitat occupied by an endemic and endangered species of fringe-toed lizard, Uma exsul Schmidt & Bogert (1947) (Figure 2; Gadsden, López-Corrujedo, Estrada-Rodríguez & Romero-Méndez, 2001, Vazquez-Díaz et al. 2007, Lemos-Espinal & Smith, 2007; SEMARNAT, 2010). La Laguna sand dune habitat (Figure 3) is threatened by burgeoning human populations, exotic species invasions, climate change, and the loss of critical ecosystem processes that maintain sand dune habitat quality. Herein we describe ecosystem conservation using the steps that distinguish this approach from species and habitat-based efforts. These steps include identifying the ecosystem processes and threats to the maintenance of those processes (the science), defining the legal and policy framework for initiating conservation effort (the institutional context), and identifying key participants in the process (stakeholders) (Meffe, Nielsen, Knight & Schenborn, 2002). Adopting an ecosystem-based conservation approach, in which conservation more often addresses broader spatial extents than do species or habitat-based conservation approaches do, can create an umbrella of protection over a greater range of regional biodiversity. For example, using species richness in lizards (number of lizard species in a geographic area) we can describe how these ecosystem-based solutions not only secure protection for sand dune species, but also they encompass a broad range of species that are not otherwise protected under endangered species legislation. While our example is specific to the conservation of sand dune systems, the conceptual approach of identifying ecosystem processes and threats to those processes as a framework for effective conservation design has universal applications. DEFINING THE ECOSYSTEM Ecosystem-based conservation for the protection of sand dunes requires an understanding of the processes that drive the spatial and temporal dynamics within aeolian sand systems (wind-blown sand habitats). Those processes often encompass all or part of entire watersheds; a sand source, a sand transport system, and a deposition sink (Lancaster, 1995). Sand originates through fluvial erosion in upland areas. Complimentary Contributor Copy 84 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Figure 1. Location of the La Laguna desert sand dune area. Figure 2. Individual of the Coahuila Fringe-toed lizard, Uma exsul. Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico 85 Figure 3. La Laguna desert sand dune habitat. The sand transport system consists of both fluvial transport of sediment during flood events, and aeolian transport that further sorts finally moving the sand to the deposition sink. The erosion and transport of sand may be an active process, or may have occurred as long ago as the late Pleistocene-early Holocene (Wintle et al., 1994; Murphy et al., 2006). In the case of those older sand transport events, the current dune system may constitute an on-going redistribution of those sands within the deposition sink. Obstructing either the fluvial or the aeolian component of the transport system will halt the arrival of new sand or redistribution of older sands, and hence degrade the habitat in the deposition area (Turner et al., 1984). Blocking wind in the deposition sink will prohibit the remixing of existing sand particles and further retard aeolian transport by allowing dust-sized particles to remain, leading to stabilization. Thus protecting sand dunes requires protecting not only the dunes but also the source and transport processes, which can extend some distance from the dunes (Figure 4). SITE-SPECIFIC ECOSYSTEM PROCESSES The aeolian sands at La Laguna were formed from lakebed deposits in the closed Aguanaval and Nazas River basins, which lies in the southeastern margin of the Basin and Range Physiographic Province. Most fluvial sand transport by both rivers probably occurred during wetter portions of the Pliocene and the Pleistocene (1 to 5 million years ago). Complimentary Contributor Copy 86 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Figure 4. Conceptual model of the ecosystem processes at La Laguna. The Viesca and Mayran dry lakes are at the terminal ends of the Nazas River near San Pedro de las Colonias, and of the Aguanaval River near Villa Bilbao (Tourist Dunes) Figure 1. (Arbingast, Blair & Buchanan, 1975). Near Villa Bilbao there is an extensive active dune area. The orientation of those dunes indicates that the predominant wind comes from the east, forming dune crests that rise to a height more than five meters (Norris 1958, Commins & Savitzky, 1973). However within the Bilbao dunes there are star dune formations which result from multidirectional winds, each of these ecological processes (water-borne sand transport and wind sorting and sculpting of the dune sands) were essential for the creation of La Laguna‘s varied dune habitats. To the extent that if any of these processes are blocked or otherwise compromised there is a real danger for the habitats to become stabilized and to cease to provide suitable habitat for the rich biodiversity that currently can be found there. Stressors to Ecosystem Processes Habitat destruction, fragmentation, degradation and contamination by aerial and landbased crop dusting with pesticides will need to be addressed to achieve effective conservation in La Laguna (Gadsden et al. 2001; Gadsden, Estrada-Rodríguez & Leyva-Pacheco, 2006). Agricultural activities have irrigated and thus stabilized low dune ramps, and have obstructed Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico 87 aeolian and fluvial transport corridors. The aeolian sand ecosystem is also degraded by the removal of sand for construction, dumping refuse, cattle grazing, intensive felling of mesquite for firewood and charcoal, and driving off-road vehicles. Upstream dams that divert the natural flow of the Nazas and Aguanaval rivers to meet agricultural water demands also block the input of new fluvial-borne sediment from the mountain sand source areas (Castañeda, García-De la Peña & Lazcano, 2004). However, considerable sand volume remains in the usually dry river beds and can still be transported to the depositional sink, but only during rare flood events. All these negative impacts are detrimental to the native flora and fauna and reduce the quality of the scenic landscape of this ecosystem. For example, the decrease in fluvial sand deposition has fragmented dune lizard (U. exsul) populations within the basin (López-Corrujedo, 2004). This fragmented distribution, along with dune philopatry (dune habitat specialization) and other anthropogenic impacts such as off-road recreational vehicles, invasive species, and trash dumping increases the susceptibility of U. exsul populations to local extinctions. Also, climate change is a potential threat to the persistence of the Coahuila fringe-toed lizard. Sinervo et al. (2010) developed models that project significant extinctions of lizards worldwide by 2080. Specifically, Ballesteros-Barrera, Martínez-Meyer and Gadsden et al. (2007) used spatially explicit niche modeling to evaluate the impact of climate change on U. exsul, and indicated a poor prognosis. Despite extensive research on the biology of the Coahuila Fringetoed Lizard (Gadsden et al. 2001, López-Corrujedo 2004, García-De la Peña et al. 2007a, 2007b, Castañeda 2007), research on sand community dynamics is sorely needed. Without a more complete understanding of the spatial and temporal dynamics of the local processes that create and maintain these dunes, the risk of losing critical components necessary for the sustainability of the system increases. In addition, understanding the genetic structure across the range of U. exsul will serve as an important baseline from which to evaluate the effects of future land use changes. CONSERVATION STRATEGIES FOR LA LAGUNA SAND DUNES According to the Mexican Program for the Conservation of Species at Risk (PROCER 2007-2012 at SEMARNAT & CONANP, 2013) the extent of conservation actions that are taken depend not only on the degree of threat or risk a species faces, but also on the resources that companies are willing to invest to conserve the species, even if that provision is not associated with the vulnerability and relative importance of that species in a system. Social decisions may be based on other values, and it is in this sense that public policy should incorporate the standards, guidelines, and mechanisms to process social demands; the available scientific information; and financial and human resources in order to optimize (not only in economic terms) the managing of endangered species conservation. This leads to the need to establish a strict hierarchy in which the species‘ so-called "umbrella" offers an opportunity to influence the conservation of other species and their habitats. During the past decade the responsibility of caring for the natural heritage—not only of a country, but also of the world natural heritage— has led Mexico to conduct a participatory policy on wildlife conservation, which requires collaboration and commitment of all stakeholders, aligning national policies, and conducting coordinated and organized efforts. Complimentary Contributor Copy 88 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Thus federal programs have emerged to incorporate sustainability criteria promoting the upgrading of resources and providing restitution to the rightful owners and holders of the direct benefits of the exploitation of the flora and fauna by generating alternatives to traditional agricultural and employment opportunities. Thus, conservation becomes profitable not only in monetary terms but also in social terms. The inhabitants of the villages located in the area of La Laguna suffer poverty and marginalization. It is clear that their economic activities are not well planned and they are not sustainable. Land in this area is communally owned and organized in ejidos (communal lands used for agriculture, which have legal personality). Ejidos discuss how they will use their natural resources and what kind of economic activities they will carry on. Under this situation, a conservation strategy should develop institutional programs dedicated to working with landowners to conserve and manage biologically important lands. It should offer alternative use and conservation of natural resources that allow working with homeowners and seeking to enhance productive uses, while preserving in perpetuity the natural, scenic, cultural, recreational or ecosystem value of their properties. At the same time it should encourage each person‘s commitment to preserve and protect these resources to benefit themselves and future generations. Benefits could include watershed protection and clean water, maintaining a rural and less congested living environment, and access to enhanced education through the participation of local scientists. The basis for success of any conservation efforts on private and social lands depends on the degree of involvement of the resources‘ owners and how they react to external stimuli that threaten natural resources. So it is essential to create a comfort level with the conservation organization through clear processes of negotiation. Ensuring the long-term conservation of private and communally owned and managed lands requires creating legal agreements that link the parties and that can be defended legally against actions of others that could try to harm the natural attributes of the land. There are several legal conservation modalities in Mexico that can be used for small properties, ejidos, and communities. Each is unique and aims to suit the circumstances, needs and interests of each of the owners, with a range of options to build unique conservation and management programs for wildlife in Mexico. They include easements, restrictions on use, private reserves and conservation farming, land trusts, civil and commercial associations, bailment, grants, leases, natural resource concessions, and legacies. Once the legal agreement for conservation is achieved, it is then necessary to develop a management program and a monitoring plan that permit owners to establish actions for conservation, protection, and restoration of ecosystems, and to integrate viable productive activities and a friendly environment. The management program is the guiding instrument for planning and regulation that defines the activities, actions, and basic guidelines for conservation, protection and management subject to instruments developed in the program. Clearly all these activities must be strictly integrated into the guidelines and conditions established in the maintenance contract. It is important that all associated with a land parcel‘s ownership, whether members of an ejido or of a single family, be directly involved in preparing the document, as well as those resource users. On the other hand, the physicalbiological monitoring of each site is essential to ensure that conservation goals are met and that the limitations of use are being respected by the owners. An alternative could be using the ecosystem service payments disbursed by the federal governmental compensation for the benefits that ecosystems provide to humans. Ecosystem Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico 89 services are comprised of provisioning, regulating, support, and cultural services. Provisioning services include consumer goods such as food, water, timber and fiber; regulation services include regulating climatic and hydrological conditions; support services such as soil formation, photosynthesis and nutrient cycling; and cultural services that provide educational, recreational, spiritual, and aesthetic benefits (Millennium Ecosystem Assessment, 2005). Although these services have the trend to have a high value to human welfare it also trend to have a high value to human welfare they also tend to decrease in quantity and quality with increasing ecosystem degradation. Under this situation of loss of services, the government has increased the economic evaluations of ecosystems to encourage the maintenance. The idea behind ecosystem service payments is that those who benefit from the ecosystem services should compensate the land holders whom conserve and restore the lands that supply those services (Wunder, 2005). The federal program for ecosystem service payments started in Mexico in 2003. The legal framework under the program is part of the Mexican National Development Plan (20132018), which states the need to increase social awareness about the importance of natural ecosystems, and protect the ecosystem services. A proposed conservation site must have a plan specifying the best management practices and the actions needed to conserve biodiversity that hosts the site. Priority is given to projects in the core zones of protected areas, Ramsar sites, areas for bird conservation in any priority hydrologic region, and the presence of species in a risk category according to Official Mexican Standard NOM-059 (SEMARNAT, 2010). THE LIZARD COMMUNITY AS A CONSERVATION UMBRELLA La Laguna is entirely contained within the Mapimian subdivision of the Chihuahuan Desert Ecoregion (Morafka, 1977; Morafka et al., 1992), (Figure 1) so ecoregional complexity fails to account for the lizard species richness found there. The La Laguna depositional sink and adjacent playas contain several inselbergs composed of Cretaceous limestone protruding through a ―sea‖ of aeolian sands and lake-bottom sediments (Lehmann, Osleger & Montanez, 1999). The isolation of these mountains has apparently fostered speciation in saxicolous lizards as evidenced by the seven endemic rocky-habitat lizards (Crotaphytus antiquus, Sceloporus cyanostictus, S. lineolateralis, S. maculosus, S. ornatus, Xantusia bolsone, and Uta sp. nov; Barrows et al., 2013). The saxicolous lizards of this area are restricted to ―islands‖ of suitable habitat. Despite the richness of La Laguna‘s lizard fauna, only the psammophilous U. exsul has received protection under federal endangered species legislation in Mexico and by the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. To ensure that biodiversity is conserved is challenging, especially given that the majority of these species lack the legal nexus to catalyze protection efforts. However, by using ecosystem conservation focus that addresses protection of sand dune lizards that do have legal protection, a conservation umbrella can extend to cover species occurring within the watersheds that define the extent of the ecosystem processes that created and support those dune systems. Some basic measures regarding the protection of La Laguna sand dunes, despite the conservation modality, should consider the following aspects: conservation of native flora and fauna, appropriate regulation (and compliance monitoring) for sand mining, prohibition of Complimentary Contributor Copy 90 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. discharge of trash or debris, and control vehicle access to the dunes with the creation of a parking in the recreational area. Promotion of rational organization of recreational activities and camping in the dunes, public information campaigns, and information for tourists will benefit landowners. Also, it is desirable that the biological value of La Laguna dunes be communicated to visitors through public education by using panels and explanatory leaflets that explain the fragility of this ecosystem, the need to protect it, and the harmful effects of certain practices to these environments. AN EXAMPLE OF ONGOING CONSERVATION IN A SIMILAR ECOSYSTEM: THE COACHELLA VALLEY, USA The Coachella Valley of California, USA, is located in the northwestern Sonoran Desert (Figure 5; 6). This area also includes a species-rich saurian fauna (Barrows et al., 2013), with a core sand dune habitat occupied by the endemic and endangered fringe-toed lizard Uma inornata Cope (1895), (Figure 7). While similar to La Laguna with high biodiversity and with an endangered sand dune lizard on which to focus ecosystem-based conservation efforts (Barrows, 2013), the legal framework within the U.S. provided for conservation strategies were unavailable at La Laguna. The U.S. conservation planning is often catalyzed by strong federal and state laws, and then (sometimes reluctantly) these laws are implemented by local governments in order to find a balance between resource protection and economic development. Conservation planning in the Coachella Valley occurred in two phases: an initial conservation effort that focused only on the Coachella Valley Fringe-toed Lizard, (U. inornata) was implemented in 1986, and was among the first Habitat Conservation Plans authorized under the U.S. Endangered Species Act. Subsequently a multiple species habitat conservation plan that was more inclusive of ecosystem processes was completed in 2008 (Barrows, 2013). In both cases the conservation boundaries spanned nine cities and unincorporated county lands. In the USA the primary negotiation is between federal and state wildlife protection agencies and local governments. The benefit to the local governments and business interests was that once a conservation plan was approved, as long as designated areas were protected, the bureaucracy associated with new economic development would be streamlined; the protection of ecosystem services, while of huge economic value, rarely entered the conversation. Nevertheless, the process did include the creation of a stakeholder group, made up of local governments, landowners, and those promoting species and ecosystem conservation. Within these stakeholder meetings the question of whether or not to proceed with a conservation plan was rarely suggested, rather it was a forum to answer questions and, when possible, resolve conflicts. This is in contrast to the conservation process in Mexico; in the U.S. once the conservation pact is signed there is no requirement for an on-going involvement with stakeholders. In Mexico the on-going dialogue with stakeholders is a key to the success of the conservation strategy. While typical conservation designs in the USA often strive to include as much of the habitat occupied by target species as practical, the Coachella Valley conservation design focused on protecting ecosystem processes, identifying those sites where aeolian and fluvial Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico 91 processes that replenish the aeolian sands were still intact, and then protecting both the habitat and the process corridors. Figure 5. Individual of the Coachella Valley Fringe-toed Lizard Uma inornata. Figure 6. Coachella Valley desert sand dune habitat. Complimentary Contributor Copy 92 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Figure 7. Map of the historic sand dune ecosystem of the Coachella Valley, USA. Today over 95% of the sand area has been developed for urban and agricultural uses, yet four core habitats remain and are now protected. The initial Habitat Conservation Plan implemented in 1986 depended on regional zoning to retain the function of the sand movement corridors, which proved ineffective when landuse zoning was changed to accommodate higher density housing and golf courses. To better protect aeolian-sand dependent species, the Coachella Valley Multiple Species Habitat Conservation Plan protected sand transport corridors as well as additional aeolian habitat in the western valley. These corridors were recognized as being essential for the long-term persistence of aeolian sand habitat and fringe-toed lizard populations and so their protection was crucial even though fringe-toed lizards or other conservation target species do not occupied them. In total, four core habitat areas along with their sand sources and transport corridors were identified for protection, distributed along the west-east gradient of wind velocity, temperature and precipitation along the Coachella Valley floor. The multiple sites capture the range of biotic and abiotic processes that would have typified the historic extent of the sand dune habitat. The heterogeneity of the biotic and abiotic processes among sites fosters asynchronous population dynamics. This, when coupled with the protection of discrete sand sources and different climatic regimes, may make the overall conservation of the species resilient to episodic stressors such as drought or flooding that might impact a single site. By embracing rather than trying to control ecosystem processes such as flooding, the protected areas not only protect habitat, but also serve as areas to recharge aquifers. Allowing flood waters to spread onto protected habitats rather than transporting those waters elsewhere via artificial channels saved local taxpayers tens of millions of dollars (Barrows, 2013). Complimentary Contributor Copy Conservation Challenges in Mexico Table 1. Lizard species richness of La Laguna and Coachella Valley water sheds. Species denoted with a superscript “D” are found in the sand dune habitats of each region. Species in bold are endemic to that region. Species list was compiled from Lemos-Espinal & Smith (2007) and Jones & Lovich (2009) La Laguna Crotophytidae Crotaphytus antiquus Crotaphyus collaris Gambelia wislizeniiD Iguanidae Coachella Valley Crotaphytus bicinctores Crotaphytus vestigium Gambelia wislizeniiD Dipsosaurus dorsalisD Sauromalus ater Phrynosomatidae Cophosaurus texanus Hoolbrokia maculata Phrynosoma cornutum Phrynosoma modestumD Sceloporus caeruleus Sceloporus cyanostictus Sceloporus edbelli Sceloporus grammicus Sceloporus jarrovii lineolateralis Sceloporus maculosus Sceloporus poinsettii Sceloporus undulatus Uma exsulD Uta stansburianaD Eublepharidae and Geckkonidae Coleonyx brevisD Teiidae Aspidoscelis gularis Aspidoscelis inornata Aspidoscelis septemvittata Aspidoscelis tigrisD Xantusiidae Xantusia bolsonae Xantusia extorris Scincidae Callisaurus draconoidesD Petrosaurus mearnsi Phrynosoma blainvillii Phrynosoma mcalliiD Phrynosoma platyrhinos Sceloporus magister Sceloporus occidentalis Sceloporus orcutti Uma inornataD Urosaurus graciosus Urosaurus nigricaudus Uta stansburianaD Coleonyx variegatusD Phyllodactylus nocticolis Aspidocelis tigrisD Xantusia henshawi Xantusia vigilis Plestiodon gilbert Plestiodon skiltonianus Anguidae and Anniellidae Gerrhonotus infernalis Anniella pulchra Elgaria multicarinata Complimentary Contributor Copy 93 94 Cristina García-De La Peña, Cameron Barrows, Héctor Gadsden et al. Today these protected lands are valued as outdoor classrooms for the local community college for teaching lessons regarding the science and process of conservation. They are also valued by sightseers and photographers as one of the most beautiful, albeit stark, landscapes in the region. Non-conservation lands surrounding the preserved areas are often purchased at a premium as they offer guaranteed adjacent open space in perpetuity. CONCLUSION The Coachella Valley conservation effort provides an example of how ecosystem conservation approaches can be applied to complex natural landscapes within a matrix of human land uses. An ecosystem approach identified desired system states in terms of habitat and community diversity and dynamics that guided conservation design criteria. Sand dune communities require this approach; however it should be a consideration in conservation efforts regardless of the community type. In Mexico, several factors are involved in achieving a biologically important conservation area within a framework that ensures the proper management of resources by landowners. The legal framework recognizes the importance of establishing agreements to ensure the maintenance of biodiversity and provides various forms. However, the practice is still bureaucratic, delaying negotiations and discouraging the villagers involved. The big problem is that while carrying out the sensitive negotiations, the ecosystem continues to deteriorate. Without organization and monitoring by the owners of the land, flora, fauna and soil continue to be exploited without restriction, and contamination persists. There are no economic benefits to encourage people to care about the conservation of their lands. It is necessary for the educational sector to participate in these processes to teach society the importance of maintaining long-term ecosystems. If the inhabitants of these areas become the protagonists for management needed to establish legal mechanisms that benefit them economically and at the same time promote the maintenance of biodiversity, protected areas in Mexico would likely expand, benefiting the quality of life for all. REFERENCES Antonovics, J. (1968). Evolution in closely related plant populations. Heredity 23, 219-238. Arbingast, S. A., Blair, C. P, & Buchanan, J. (1975). Atlas of México. University of Texas at Austin bureau of business research. VIII, 165 pp. Ballesteros-Barrera C., Martínez-Meyer, E. & Gadsden, H. (2007). Effects of land-cover transformation and climate change on the distribution of two microendemic lizards, genus Uma, of northern Mexico. Journal of herpetology 41, 732-739. Barrows, C.W. (1996). ―An ecological model for the protection of a dune ecosystem.‖ Conservation Biology 10(3), 888-891. Barrows, C.W. (2012). Temporal abundance of arthropods on desert sand dunes. 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Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 4 AN ANALYTICAL RETROSPECTIVE OF MEXICO FOR A SUSTAINABLE FUTURE J. Serrano-Arellano1, J. L. Chávez-Servín2 and M. Dávila-Núñez3 1 Universidad de Guanajuato, Mexico Universidad Autónoma de Querétaro, Mexico 3 Universidad Superior Bajío, Mexico 2 ABSTRACT In the next chapter, we will attempt to analyze the situation of the Mexican population based on the consequences brought on by the visible and current deterioration of the environment, from pre-Hispanic times to the present day. As we know, the environment, and more specifically, the degree of pollution, changes the mindset of every individual. Because of our remarkable ability to adapt, we get used to an unhealthy environment, excessive noise, and homes that are in frankly deplorable conditions. However, few diseases are directly caused by the local climate, but many —and serious ones at that— do result from the lack of environmental health and sanitary conditions and everything that flows from this. Given this panorama, we propose studying how and in what way this mindset —and thus the behavior of the population— is changed due to the environmental pollution and contamination that people experience. We aspire to contribute to raising readers‘ awareness of this reality and, by the same token, promote valuable ideas that would help improve our planet, which is otherwise productive and abundantly endowed with all kinds of natural resources. Today‘s México looks to the future with the hope of tackling its major challenges. Specifically, this means meeting the ecosystem´s protection and adaptation needs with the aim of improving their preservation for generations to come, and taking on technology, not as novel curiosity that we must obtain in order to improve our status, but to effectively bring it to places where it is desperately needed for practical implementation purposes. Since its discovery and subsequent birth as a nation, Mexico has been an inexhaustible source of exceptional natural resources that have aroused the greed and ambition of its discoverers, who have looted the country to unsustainable lengths. And despite this, even today, its territory is indiscriminately exploited for industrial use, as a space available for dumping all kinds of toxic, radioactive, and medical waste. Complimentary Contributor Copy 100 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez Keywords: Pollution, society, environment, global warming, sustainability, environmental protection, and deforestation ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES At the present time, numerous scientific research studies can be found on different ecological and environmental problems currently existing in Mexico. A few of them are mentioned below to introduce the reader to this thought-provoking and, at the same time, decisive environmental analysis. To better understand the relationship between the society and the environment, it is necessary to define the environmental health indicators (EHIs). With this in mind, Bell et al. (2011) conducted a study of environmental health indicators using the air pollution levels of some Latin American cities as a case study. In this context, it is very important to understand the significance of environmental pollution, which is a complex phenomenon that influences governmental policies and the corresponding legislation of any country and therefore tends to be misunderstood. Thus, it is worthwhile to have the correct indicators available. A study undertaken by Smith, Blake, and Rowland (2002), focused on Mexico City, considered to be the largest and most polluted city in the country, required an examination of the distribution of methane and other hydrocarbons as indicators of environmental pollution. The researchers analyzed 75 air samples in the metropolitan area, with multi-variable statistics, since the changes in methane levels are considerable in space and time. This study reported that the canals and open wastewater disposal sites are major emitters of methane. The Kyoto Protocol and other conventions have not included methane as a greenhouse gas. This study showed the need to consider methane and other hydrocarbons as pollution indicators in urbanization processes for future protocols. The study presented by Crawford-Brown, Barker, Anger and Dessens (2012) showed the results after preventing a reduction in the ozone layer thanks to policies aimed at cutting greenhouse gases in Mexico. This analysis includes the study of the decrease in estimated premature deaths and risks of non-fatal diseases and illnesses resulting from exposure to both ozone and suspended particles. The results show that a policy aimed at achieving a 77% reduction in greenhouse gasses in the Mexican economy, relative to a baseline growth scenario, translates into a decrease in mortality rates to the tune of almost 3,000 lives per year. The benefit in terms of non-fatal diseases involves 417,000 fewer cases per year, a savings of $0.6 billion dollars annually in the corresponding health care costs. These reductions in human health risks, stemming from the accompanying benefits of climate change policies, are significant in light of risk reduction targets typically used in environmental regulatory decisions, and would be considered important drivers of policy choices if climate policy were harmonized with other areas of risk-based environmental policies. The depletion of the ozone layer makes our planet susceptible to solar activity. With this in mind, Maravilla, Jáuregui, & Lara (2004) presented a study on solar activity in which they analyzed three series of data from different weather stations in northern México. The analysis was spectral in order to identify solar activity. Other data gathered can be related to solar Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 101 phenomena such as cosmic ray flows, sudden storms, solar flares, the occurrence of magnetic flows and geomagnetic activity, or weather phenomena. In relation to water pollution, researcher Ursula Oswald Springe (2011) conducted a study of the impact of water security in Mexico City, considered a "mega city". This analysis explored complex interrelated processes such as population growth, changes in land use, agricultural practices, deforestation, and the destruction of ecosystems, among others. The study showed that the relationship between the aquatic system and water security is very complex and dynamic, not only due to natural or man-made changes, but also as a result of institutional deficiencies and the lack of involvement on the part of the stakeholders. An interesting work regarding this, was presented by Edward P. Glenn, Flessa and Pitt (2013), which describes the recent Mexico-United States binational efforts aimed at improving the environmental resources provided by the Colorado River. Its water flow is of extreme importance for the habitats that depend on the Colorado. One of the most serious disasters with the greatest consequence in Mexican history was the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico; in this study, the editorial from Ecological Engineering presented data and information on the magnitude of this catastrophe. A series of data on soil respiration was examined by Campos (2014) in order to determine the importance of environmental factors related to the seasonal variation in surface soil and CO2 flows on the eastern slope of the Cofre de Perote volcano (Mexico). He observed that both the temperature and the water in the soil co-regulate its respiration. Thus, it is suggested that global warming could have a negative effect on the availability of soil water and in the reduction in soil respiration. At the same time, part of the environmental pollution may result from naturally occurring elements, for example, the sediment cores of some metals (such as, for example, Ag, As, Cd, Cr, Cu, Hg, Ni, Pb, V, and Zn). In a study presented by J. F. Ontiveros-Cuadras (2014) and other researchers, these sediments were found to be present in the central Mexican plateau. Residues were analyzed to explain the origin of these trace metals. It was found that some elements were above the benchmark levels, suggesting a certain degree of pollution. Some studies have pointed to an adverse effect of exposure to arsenic, which mainly affects the cognitive abilities of children. This study, undertaken by Aditi Roy et al. (2011) with a group of children in the Torreón, Mexico region, found that greater exposure to this pollutant occurs through drinking water and that its health implications are felt throughout the affected individual‘s life. Prenatal exposure to metabolites 1,1 - dichloro - 2, 2 - bis (p- chlorophenyl) ethylene (DDE) reduces growth and increases body mass in childhood, which becomes a potential problem during adulthood. Lea A. Cupul-Uicab et al. (2010) evaluated prenatal exposure to DDE in relation to growth in 788 children in Chiapas, Mexico, where DDE was recently used. In the measurements from 2002-2003, the average level of DDE in the serum of the mothers immediately after childbirth was 2.7mg/g. The predictions showed that children exposed to DDE at >9.00mg/g, compared with exposure to DDE at <3.01mg/g, experienced similar growth. Manganese (Mn) is considered an essential metal. However, as excessive exposure to this element affects the nervous system, it is considered a toxic agent. Sergio Montes et al. (2008) presented a study on some short- and medium-term effects of this pollutant that have drawn attention. The study analyzes the relationship between the amount of Mn in the blood and prolactin as a marker of the effects of such exposure. Participating in the study were 230 Complimentary Contributor Copy 102 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez volunteers who gave blood samples. The results suggested that the phenomenon of exposure and biomarkers in the general population is complex due to the variability of the metal‘s characteristics. However, a specific population group may be subject to Mn accumulation in their blood and, therefore, be exposed to these effects. Ernesto Pastén-Zapata et al. (2014) presented a study on the quality of groundwater in a rural region in northeastern Mexico. It was found that animal manure and wastewater from septic tanks were the main causes of nitrate pollution. Dairy activities also contribute to nitrate pollution in a specific radius. Lake Chapala is the largest source of water for irrigation in the region and provides a livelihood through fishing to a population of 300,000 people in central Mexico. But recent economic activities have increased pollution in the area. High concentrations of contaminants have been found in fish. For example, it has been found that 27% of women of childbearing age have high levels of mercury due to their frequent consumption of carp (Cifuentes et al. 2011). In a study, Rivera-Guzmán et al. (2014) reported an increase in population during the past 50 years along the central coast of Veracruz, on the Gulf of Mexico. This has led to an intensification of agriculture, urbanization, and other economic activities. The impact of all this has resulted in changes in land use and an increase in the surface area devoted to agriculture and livestock. As a result, vegetation has been greatly reduced and the systems of coastal lagoons have been altered due to the excessive agricultural and economic activities. McGroddy et al. (2013) conducted a study on the effects of hurricanes on the ecological environment, noting that they resulted in soil erosion through alterations to its composition and structure. These were the effects of hurricane Dean in the Yucatan Peninsula in 2007. In this study, a detailed assessment of the damages and consequences of the hurricane was provided. Harris et al. (2012) researched the levels of mercury (Hg) in some marine species from the Gulf of Mexico. The Gulf of Mexico accounts for 41% of deep-sea recreational fishing and 16% of commercial fishing in the United States. Therefore, fish consumption in this region is high. Hg levels are believed to be higher than those found in the waters of the Atlantic for some species. In their study, Senko et al. (2014) presented an evaluation of the mortality rates for rare species of marine megafauna, data that is crucial for conservation planning. The ecological disaster encompasses endangered species, as shown in this study from 2006 to 2008, that assessed the mortality of endangered green sea turtles. It was found that many green sea turtles are being killed as a consequence of by-catch and conducted capture despite more than two decades of federal protection. The study highlighted the need to mitigate these threats to the natural fauna. A RETROSPECTIVE VIEW OF MEXICO AND ITS ENVIRONMENT In Mexico, a country rich in natural resources that include woods, tropical rain forests, deserts, plains, beaches, extremely fertile plains, oilfields, precious metals, natural gas, exotic flora and fauna, the immediate and indiscriminate use of such an abundance of wealth came as no surprise. The indigenous people had already made use of such riches, but this natural Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 103 wealth was viewed differently. Land ownership was neither communal nor private; its exploitation was assigned as payment for work performed at the three top levels of the indigenous hierarchy. The native Mexicans viewed their environment as a source of wealth that must be cared for in order to obtain its benefits. In contrast, the conquistadors saw forests, for example, as land that provided no economic advantage and was a simple source of wood. The unbridled ambitions of the Spanish crown led it to take control of the use and purpose of every Mexican asset, radically changing their exploitation and use. Historians report the complaints aired by the indigenous communities in the current state of Guerrero, who in 1543 witnessed the damage inflicted on the forests by Spanish mining. At around 1880, there were already reports of damage caused to Mexico's forests and the resulting environmental impact, evident in climate changes, air pollution, the drying up of natural springs, erosion, and the loss of arable land, as well as numerous floods in the country. By 1911, the environmental situation was already considered a public health issue. During the administration of President Lázaro Cárdenas, 40 national parks were officially established and recognized, and in 1946 outgoing President Manuel Avila Camacho enacted the first Mexican law for the management and preservation of the country‘s natural resources. By the late 1950s, the company Cromatos de México had, during its 20 years of operations, spewed tons of hexavalent chromium into the atmosphere and accumulated about 75,000 tons of industrial waste in its facilities, very seriously and irreversibly affecting aquifers and the surrounding land [La Jornada Ecológica]. By the beginning of the 1960s, concern had already been expressed by Mexican scientists over what would subsequently become one of the country‘s biggest problems: air pollution in Mexico City. We can list the many institutions that have been established for the purpose of environmental protection, which have adopted measures to safeguard the ecosystem. Nevertheless, the political elite has made huge profits through the misuse of the natural resources. We can see that environmental, political and social issues are inextricably linked, intertwined because of the necessary human involvement. Third-party interests have taken their toll on the ecosystem throughout history, and the Lacandona rainforest is a clear example of this. There are records indicating that in the 1970s, some 10,000 trees were cut. It is somewhat ironic that industrial progress and the destruction of biodiversity have gone hand in hand in our time, now much more than in previous years, when the lack of knowledge could have been the perfect excuse. In fact, the Mexican Constitution of 1917 already showed concern over the preservation of national forests and water sources with the results that can be seen today. In the 1970s, Mexico already faced an urgent need to properly dispose of solid waste and toxic substances, to prohibit the dumping of wastewater, to adopt atmospheric emission standards, and to address problems of dust, fumes, gases, vapors, radioactive materials, waste processing, and recycling. In the large urban metropolises such as Mexico City, Guadalajara, and Monterrey, industry and urbanization had already inflicted great damage on the environment. This is without mentioning the damage caused by the Iztoc I oil well explosion, which spilled 560 million gallons of oil into the Bay of Campeche. This event was characterized as one of the worst in the history of damage caused to the environment [La Jornada Ecológica]. By the 1980s, the Regulations for Environmental Protection against Noise Pollution were enacted. As an aside, it should be noted that the legendary supersonic airliner AerospatialeBAC Concorde, which made its maiden demonstration flight on October 20, 1974 to Mexico Complimentary Contributor Copy 104 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez City, had more landings in the 1980s, precisely when the law against noise pollution was enacted. Even though Petróleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) deserves special mention, we cannot fail to note the damage to the environment that the 16 explosions at the company‘s San Juan Ixhuatepec installations caused in 1984, with gas emissions reaching a height of 500 meters in addition to 503 deaths and property damage [Proceso, 2002]. In the 1990s, when globalization was in full swing, several events occurred at an environmental level in Mexico. To begin with, the Environment and Natural Resources Ministry (SEMARNAT), established toward the end of 1994 as the regulatory body in charge of overseeing the changes that resulted from the adoption of the North American Free Trade Agreement, set forth the principles of self-regulation, voluntary environmental audits, and pollutant release and transfer registries. The Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) presented Mexico with a list of recommendations on environmental policy, including the key "polluter pays principle". This was a somewhat utopian slogan. Although the General Law on Ecological Balance and Environmental Protection (LGEEPS) establishes the right to receive information on the situation and measures in defense of the Mexican environment, as well as the inspection, monitoring, and system of sanctions to ensure better control of the environment, there are innumerable examples indicating that, contrary to what would be expected with better regulatory measures, the sources of pollution were constantly on the rise. Then there are the cases of the improper disposal of used batteries, which oxidize over time and release their components into the environment, such as the nearby soil and groundwater. We can only imagine the amount of pollutants dispersed in this fashion, such as manganese dioxide, mercury, nickel, cadmium, and lithium, among other substances. The explosions in the city of Guadalajara, Jalisco, in 1992, caused the spilling of millions of gallons of fuel, killing 206 people and injuring more than 1,400, with the resulting and inevitable environmental damage [Crónica]. The generation of hazardous waste by 12,514 companies in this decade was coupled with what was generated in Mexico City alone: a daily average of 12,500 tons, which accounted for 14% of the national total. All of this is without taking into consideration the amount of the most common pollutants generated in a country with a low educational level, a pressing need for industrialization, and little concern over foreign involvement in the use and misuse of national resources. According to the Mexican Official Standard NOM-052-ECOL-93, a hazardous waste is waste that is generated by human activity and production processes that in any physical state, due to their corrosive, reactive, explosive, toxic, flammable, poisonous or infectious biological characteristics, poses a threat to the ecological balance. According to the SEMARNAT, each year in Mexico 8 million tons of hazardous waste are generated, and only part of the total receives proper management and disposal. Even worse, Mexico‘s use of energy shows a close-to-90% dependence on hydrocarbons. The results from the analysis of various health care institutions show that pollutants emitted by petroleum derivatives can cause respiratory ailments, gastrointestinal diseases, premature births, blood diseases and, in addition, illnesses that occur gradually and silently, such as mental disorders. Furthermore, many of the disasters due to poor or non-existent handling of the elemental norms for the protection of hydrocarbons have caused innumerable deaths, millions of pesos in losses, and of course, irreparable damage to the environment. Numerous reports of damage to the environment in the states of Oaxaca, Tabasco, Veracruz, and Hidalgo, to name a few, leave no room for classifying such events as acts of Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 105 God. In the past few years, ecological tragedies have occurred, such as in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010, where the damages have been five times higher than the initial estimate. The open oil wells spilled 4 million liters per day, resulting in levels of damage similar to those seen in the United States due to hurricane Katrina. With all these developments, we can see that globalization and its model for sustainable development are somewhat inoperable in states such as Tabasco and Oaxaca, given their diversity of cultures, needs, and priorities. Therefore, the regulations require changes so that the protection and sustainability of hydrocarbon extraction projects do not lead to many more problems than solutions. Another major problem of the State-owned oil company is obsolete facilities, managed by a tightly knit and closed group that inherits job positions and obviously PEMEX‘s problems, even though thus far they have been ignored. Thus, the lack of awareness and environmental education has caused major damages to Mexico‘s ecosystems. And even though their catastrophic dimensions have caused concern and action from some local organizations, the adverse results are plain to see, given that the majority, just like on a political level, is waiting for "the government to do something" and stays put with a fierce yet passive criticism of the problem. We can make use of increasingly fewer resources. The often mentioned sustainability cannot be a reality when there is no way to access the resources which can only be obtained by those in a more financially advantageous position. In general, the middle and lower class will choose more affordable products with little nutritional value and greater potential for pollution. All we have to do is look at recreational areas, where we are likely to find contaminated objects in areas that should be protected. To this vast panorama of urgent problems that get little attention, we can add the situation of landfills, garbage dumps, and incinerators that hide the problem instead of resolving it. According to data gathered by Greenpeace, more than 100,000 tons of household garbage is produced in Mexico, equivalent to 37 million tons of urban solid waste. The acidification caused by the biological degradation of such waste transfers highly toxic substances to the subsoil, groundwater, and the air. Burning garbage is not a viable solution due to the high emission of dioxins and furans into the atmosphere, which in the end reach the food chains, causing serious problems to the environment. Most of the official data corresponds to controlled landfills, but there are illegal dumps that, presumably, lack strict controls in waste management. The above suggests a not very optimistic picture. According to Greenpeace, Mexico ranks fifth worldwide in deforestation with 600,000 hectares of forestland and tropical rain forests, being lost annually, equivalent to four times the size of the nation's capital. The truth is that industrialization in Mexico has taken priority over the environment, which has frankly and visibly deteriorated. We can cite the case of foreign automobile companies that have acquired hundreds of hectares of land that have traditionally been used for cultivation, with all of the corresponding implications for agriculture and agro-ecological practices. This has a negative impact on food production and food security, given the growing demand of the primary activities to meet the needs of the country‘s population. Large areas of farmland are being used for industrial parks, a phenomenon that is cause for concern especially because these sources of jobs are mostly foreign maquiladoras that contribute to Mexico‘s environmental pollution. If Mexicans remain indifferent, it is absurd to expect that others will treat the land in which they were not born with respect. In relation to the country‘s seas and oceans, the Complimentary Contributor Copy 106 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez coastal cities are obviously growing at the same rate as the rest of the country‘s urban areas, and therefore, the problems there are on the rise as well. In addition to the disastrous urban planning of most of these cities, they are also plagued by problems such as deficiencies in sewage systems, insufficient wastewater treatment plants, refilling of flooded areas, the use of mangroves as areas for expansion available to the highest bidder, the destruction of huge extensions of coral reefs, and all types of corruption involving the flora and fauna, which has been generated by the tourism industry with the resulting destruction and privatization of formerly public places. Now, the fact that such land is privately owned, as in the case of the most popular beaches in the country, Acapulco and Cancun, among the main ones, has not resolved the problem of the poor management of natural resources. In fact, the situation has worsened. Resource-rich Mexico is viewed and taken advantage of by foreign investors. UNESCO has named Mexico a World Heritage Site due to its culinary diversity: 600 corn-based dishes and 300 types of tamales. And yet, even though this represents an incentive to protect these products and the lands where their inputs are grown, various agricultural regions in Mexico are at risk of genetic pollution, although several studies have shown the incompatibility of native and transgenic varieties. These genetic modifications affect several Mexican products such as honey with genetically modified soy. Permission was granted in 2011 for planting 30,000 hectares of GM soy brand, known as Solución Faena, which poses a serious risk of pollution for honey production. And then there‘s Dragon Mart, a Chinese project in Quintana Roo, which will have a huge environmental impact by damaging aquifers and areas with high plant, and animal diversity. This project joins another of the country‘s major problems in terms of environmental pollution generated by PEMEX, whose oil spills recorded and quantified by Green Peace since October 30, 2011, led the environmental organization to call its investigations ―The oil spill of the day." From that date until February 5, 2013, Green Peace has not lost track of oil spills that occur on a daily basis by the Mexican State-run oil company. Throughout the length and breadth of the country, there are constant signs of ecological devastation and damage to the population. THE EFFECT OF POLLUTION ON MENTAL AND PHYSICAL HEALTH At this point, it is worth commenting on the serious damage that all this pollution inflicts on the population in terms of its mental and physical health. There is no desire here to oppose or belittle attempts at progress, but if such progress were to be coupled with reasonable security measures, with ecological awareness, and appreciation for the nation‘s land, things might be different. The importance of the interaction between the environment and humanity is vital when the time comes to measure a person‘s health, and mental health problems are inevitably linked to this. Indeed, the survival of the species depends on its environment and the adaptation to this environment. Human beings‘ capacity to adapt to their surrounding environment is a well-known fact, and people can tolerate an unhealthy environment, poor diet, excessive noise, unhealthy water, polluted air, and all sorts of adverse health conditions. Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 107 Mental health is part of an individual‘s overall health; few diseases are caused directly by climate, but many and very serious illnesses are driven by the lack of environmental hygiene. When common mental disorders are discussed, alcoholism and drug addiction immediately come to mind. However, some other mental health conditions that are not so obvious, such as persistent anxiety, a propensity for violence, depression, hopelessness and other not well defined forms of somatization, have increased in recent years, mainly in urban areas. Not everyone reacts the same way to stress; harmful environmental stimuli have a stronger impact on individuals with low levels of emotional stability as opposed to those more stable. When a person with a character that is susceptible to being negatively affected by these external factors is immersed in a heavily contaminant-laden environment, pollutants act as would any toxic substance with the resulting damage to the individual‘s mental health and therefore to his or her quality of life at work, at home, and everywhere where social aspects of life come into play. The increasingly thicker layer of environmental pollution is growing dramatically given the very few and deficient safety measures in place. Toxic substances, pesticides, the use of food and water in questionable hygienic conditions, the dumping of human waste, humans and animals defecating in the open air, industrial pollutants, noise pollution, and unpleasant odors which, taken together, undercut individuals‘ quality of life and directly affect their mood and mental abilities. In addition, they can cause respiratory and enteric diseases, and stunt physical growth as, for example, in prenatal and postnatal states due to exposure to lead in the body of a pregnant mother. According to Ramón de la Fuente in his book Salud Mental en México (1997), the nervous system of human beings is experiencing a kind of continuous "excessive vigilance", which is the result of humans‘ biological and psychological reaction when confronted by threats. And pollution is certainly perceived as a threat. High levels of lead damage the glial cells responsible for, among many other functions, cleansing the brain of undesirable substances. In turn, high levels of manganese reduce the brain's ability to assimilate serotonin and dopamine, neurotransmitters that are associated with the regulation of behavioral impulses. When the human body absorbs pollutants or contaminants, a synergy occurs that hinders the brain‘s capability to block violent responses. According to the "neurotoxicity hypothesis of violent crime‖, postulated by researcher Roger Masters (1997), U.S. counties with higher lead and manganese pollution levels registered crime rates that were 300% above the national average. The most violent criminals were more contaminated with these metals than those who were not violent. Thus, Masters concluded that the level of pollutants is as good a forecaster of crime as poverty. When the hippocampal inhibitory and excitatory synaptic transmission is affected, it causes cognitive impairment in learning and memory. Therefore, problems arise in learning, potentially in children, and if this is coupled with the very common poor diet due to excessive consumption of "junk food", high levels of simple carbohydrates (sugars), and very reduced physical activity, the result is unfavorable for self-improvement and, on the contrary, leads to very low levels of educational achievement for youth in a state of mental vulnerability and for adults saturated with adverse factors that will surely worsen. Headaches, insomnia, nervousness, irritability, depression, and anxiety make those who are exposed to all kinds of pollutants easy prey. But as we have already mentioned, depending on the stage of life of the subject, the consequences will be seen to a greater or lesser extent. To begin with, the effects of pollution on human beings are greater than might be expected, as it affects people in many and varied ways. During the period of gestation, Complimentary Contributor Copy 108 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez pollution can cause underweight at birth, brain damage, and infant deaths. A recent study prepared by the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP) revealed that between 5% and 10% of all birth defects are caused by seepage of pollutants through drugs, chemical products, viruses, and radiation. The pesticides, the toxic derivatives of chemical products and the carbon dioxide emitted by automobiles can pass through the placenta. During childhood, pollution-related problems are not any less serious; in fact, as children breathe faster than adults, proportionately consume more air and pollutants. An adult absorbs 10% percent of air pollutants while the corresponding figure for a child is 50%. Children are potentially more vulnerable to the use of some insecticides because their brains and central nervous systems are not fully developed. Furthermore, childhood autism and pollution are closely linked. In terms of the effects of noise pollution and its psychological effects, children who have become accustomed to a noisy environment pay less attention to acoustic signals, their ability to listen and read are reduced, and their verbal communication is hindered, which affects the ability to socialize. Their respiratory systems are also affected, their metabolism speeds up, and they experience disorders in their rest and sleep cycles, with resulting irritability. With all the elements we mentioned above, we can expect that such serious and grave problems during childhood will lead to serious deficiencies in the quality of life and development, and to a precarious foundation for mental health compared with other healthier environments. Our wonderful body has the ability to react to the environment differently; some individuals regardless of age react structurally, as if it were something alien to them, and thus this already bad adaptation to an adverse environment turns out to be difficult. On the other extreme, however, others respond experimentally, that is, identifying with the environment and feeling like they are a part of it. This partially explains why some people are intolerant or tolerant to environmental circumstances, whatever the latter might be. This situation carries along with it an ambivalent panorama, because it involves the advantage of adaptation and resulting survival if necessary. But in the present case, human beings can adapt almost imperceptibly to hazardous environments in which their overall health will gradually weaken. Along the way, however, the consequences of this poor adaptation will appear disastrous and unfortunate for the individual. A cognitive map is our representation of the physical environment; human action responds to various types of stimuli in which physical and psychomotor activities, and several that are only mental, come into play. Behavior within the environment is combined with and interacts with psychological processes such as perception and awareness of the environment. Therefore, it is not possible for an individual to live independently with respect to his or her environment and this will have a powerful influence in essential facets of life such as the person‘s physical and mental health. And thanks to our human constitution, the characteristics acquired from the environment in regard to a decline in mental health can be passed on when they affect gonadal cells. At the same time, we know that the so-called "stress hormones" in adolescents have been altered by environmental changes, which can affect the physiology of the brain and cause severe mental illness. This was the result of research conducted by psychiatrist Akira Sawa, director of schizophrenia at the Johns Hopkins Center, who led the research in young adults with a predisposition to such afflictions. Adding noise pollution into the equation, it is also worth taking into account changes in behavior, memory, and attention, and the growing stress of the affected individuals. As we know, global pollution has spurred drastic climate changes, which are increasingly more pronounced in many parts of world as can be noted in the Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 109 unusual storms, out-of-season heat waves, early snowfalls, and prolonged droughts, and not only in places where they have tended to be frequent. It is cause for serious concern that this panorama adds to the already common behavioral disorders in adolescence, since teenagers, when going through this vulnerable period in their still-unconsolidated personality development, face the possibility of a serious mental illness in which the environmental factor has considerable weight. These two factors, stage of life vs. pollution, as can be seen, result in major adverse consequences in terms of maintaining humankind with a better quality of life. One of the theories of British psychoanalyst and pediatrician Donald Winnicottera is that in order for children to develop healthily, it is imperative that they are in a suitable environment. Parents cannot guarantee the health of their child, but can ensure a proper environment for his or her development, and in this case it may be assumed that he was only referring to psychological factors. It is of course true that the psychological factor is an important part of this theory, but so is the environment that surrounds the child in his or her development. This is because some psychological disorders are not the result of internal conflicts, but of shortcomings of all types, including those derived from an adverse environment. According to recent data from a specialized journal in the field (UNEP), in our industrialized world, the body of an adult has up to 50,000 more chemical substances than was the case with his or her grandparents. With this gloomy panorama of what the environment has led to in children and young people's mental health, substantiated reasons can be advanced for what is currently occurring in households, schools and public spaces in general in Mexico. Even though Mexican children and youngsters have the fortune of living in an era marked by considerably greater progress and conveniences compared to a decade ago, problems at home have increased due to the prevailing family situation, the minimum attention they receive from their parents or guardian, the economic situation, insecurity, lack of strong family ties, and the physical and mental illnesses caused by pollution. On a social level, a tremendous disdain for rules can be perceived and the number of students suffering depression is steadily growing as new generations emerge. According to the American psychologist Daniel Goleman in his book Emotional Intelligence (1995), since the beginning of the century, generations have increased their risk of experiencing paralyzing disinterest, discouragement, self-pity, and overwhelming hopelessness. Early emotional pressures can affect neural development, which can lead to depression when an individual is subject to great pressure, even several decades later. Thus, when adding the increased pollution to this distressing scenario, we cannot guarantee an improvement in the mental health of future generations. For adults in their productive years, the consequences are no less devastating than in previous phases of their lives, given their exposure to pollution: environmental, acoustic, visual, luminous, radioactive, etc. On top of this, a large percentage of the population in Mexico go to work in places that, to one or another degree, are exposed to high levels of pollution, in one or multiple forms that affect the body. For example, there is excessive noise, an annoying sound that is inarticulate, chaotic, strong, and unwanted. The human ear can hear sounds ranging from 20 to 20,000Hz, with 0 decibels being the threshold for minimum hearing and 140 decibels the threshold of auditory pain. The intensity and frequency of the noise and the time of exposure to it are taken into account in considering the degree to which a worker is affected by noise pollution. Unfortunately, the adaptability of human beings to the environment plays a bad trick here when the individual has become so accustomed to the noise, which is now considered to be natural and inevitable. A sign that some or much of the Complimentary Contributor Copy 110 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez individual‘s natural hearing has been lost is when the noise "doesn‘t bother" anymore. In 2009, the Mexican Social Security Institute (IMSS) reported that hearing disorders and traumatic deafness ranked first in the list of work-related afflictions recognized by the health care institution. The jobs or sectors in which workers are more exposed to experiencing noiserelated problems include the metal-mechanical industry, mining, mechanics, maintenance, welding, construction, textile industry, trucking, taxi drivers, etc. Unfortunately, much of the damage caused to a person‘s hearing is irreversible. Among the consequences of noise on mental health are stress, anxiety, emotional instability, irritability, sleep disorders, reduced attention span, depression, poor performance, aggressiveness, and lack of coordination. Frequently, visual pollution also affects workers. The human brain has a certain capacity to assimilate data, and information overload, trash, and everything that the human eye registers outside the aesthetic order of the environment also leads to psychological afflictions such as stress, anxiety, distress, nervousness, headaches, and confusion, among others. The central nervous system is significantly compromised when an individual is immersed in a venue that is saturated with artificial stimuli in disarray. The average adult in his or her productive years faces all this and much more in terms of mental disorders due to environmental pollution. Organic stress is the nonspecific response of the body to environmental requirements, noise, air pollution, and extreme temperatures, and the older we gets, the more likely we are to experience their effects, according to Charles J. Holahan (2010), Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology. That said, it can be expected that the elderly, whose bodies are saturated with contaminants throughout their working lives, and knowing that some pollutants —such as lead, mercury, and polychlorinated biphenyls— are capable of remaining in the human body for a long time, will be exposed to a wide variety of serious lung diseases. These include chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), which appears either as emphysema or chronic bronchitis. The elderly are also more likely to develop lung cancer than other individuals, and this is exacerbated by environmental pollution. This is a factor that should be considered: given population growth rates and current trends, soon throughout the world — and Mexico is no exception in this regard— there will be many more older than younger people. At present, the number of people over the age of 60 is twice the 1980 figure, according to a report by Javier González de la Torre, specialist in the life sciences industry and health care. The report also indicates that, in 2020, physicians will attend to more afflictions resulting from environmental pollution, which will be increasing to limits that are currently not predictable. In addition, traditional psychiatric disorders will be on the rise and new clinical symptoms will appear. It is anticipated that all forms of addictions and depression will be the most prevalent illnesses. According to the report for World Health Day 2012, by 2050, the world will be inhabited by almost 395 million people above the age of 80, that is, four times the current figure. A STRONG CALL FOR NEW THINKING The sustainability that has been proposed to achieve economic development has not proven to be viable. Mexico finds itself in a not very honorable number six ranking of the most polluted countries in the world, and so it can be said that it is now dangerous to breathe Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 111 there. The pace of environmental destruction that is caused and will be caused by many companies established in the country is less important than their economic profits. Such profits are more attractive than doing something about deforestation, rainwater pollution, soil erosion, and extremely dangerous greenhouse gas emissions into the air. Mexico has one of the most comprehensive laws on environmental protection, but what does this mean? The people‘s indifference is as devastating as the indifference from the growing economic interests. What is taught by parents and teachers can be very interesting, but children and young people do not learn from words, they learn from facts. What is the origin of this attitude of Mexicans toward what should be a priority in their lives? We are well aware of the feeling of indifference harbored by Mexicans, but this feeling has been promoted by the lack of value for a personal as an individual in the country; what counts here is the family. In other countries, it is common to see single individuals rise up to demand their rights; in Mexico, however, if this is done, it is in favor of the rights of the family. This is because Mexicans exalt the family or the relation of friendship more than the common good. Of course this has two sides, one positive and one negative; the positive is that children consider obedience to parents and elders to be natural they do not loudly demand independence as their peers do elsewhere in the world. The negative aspect, as has already been mentioned, is that the value of the single individual does not carry much weight. Mexicans do not know how to work in a team; this is also an important factor when the time arrives to move forward, let‘s not say as a nation, but as groups, with so important a project as the preservation of our environment. In Mexico, individual projects function better and are more common, perhaps this is why handicrafts flourished. But far from finding a justification for national indifference and apathy, we should try to uncover the reasons, and retreating once again back to our origins, we find that when our ancestors were enjoying the sweetness of the flowering of their own culture, the conquerors arrived to mercilessly destroy all that was sacred. The pre-Hispanic cultures had a different perception of their environment than we have today. Proof of this was the beautiful gardens and artificial ponds that contained a great diversity of animal and plant species. When the Europeans arrived, they found there was an important ecological worldview in the gardens of Iztapalapa, Texcoco, and Chapultepec. In 1977, Carmen Viqueira conducted one of the first studies on how the environment was perceived by the Mexican indigenous peoples, finding that for the Totonacs of Veracruz and Puebla, being able to distinguish colors was key to differentiate rainforest plants and animals. This knowledge has been passed down for generations with the aim of finding the best use for the various species of plants. Lazos and Paré conducted similar studies in 2000 among the Nahuas of the Sierra de Santa Marta in southern Veracruz, which is part of the Los Tuxtlas Biosphere Reserve. Their research indicated that many of the local peasant farmers were unaware that their farmland was considered conservation areas. They were also unaware of the property limits of their ejidos (semi-communal farmland). This underscores the contradiction of Mexican environmental policy that emphasizes the importance of considering each and every social actor in decision-making for environmental improvement. To achieve a better understanding of what we have lost in regard to our ancestral beliefs, we must enter this world that seems so far away and unknown to current-day Mexicans. Our ancestors, pure indigenous people, considered nature and all its manifestations in a very different fashion than their descendants currently view and treat it. Many living eyewitness accounts and some others left as part of a valuable and unsurpassed legacy by our ancestors Complimentary Contributor Copy 112 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez tell us the way in which many, if not all, ethnic groups of the Mesoamerican cultures considered Mother Nature, plants, and animals as ―living‖ beings, capable of speaking, with their own feelings, endowed with consciousness, and able to transmit what is sacred and hidden from our eyes. The use that they bestowed on the enormous variety of plant life that our generous soil produces brought them countless benefits in terms of improving their health and quality of life. The plants were used both for preparing their food as well as in their medicine, for cosmetic purposes, and as inspiration in their graphical representations in pottery and clothing. Plants and animals were used to understand and represent the cosmos. And through contemporary biological studies we seek to understand how these elements were employed and incorporated to the knowledge of the cosmos, such an important field for our ancestors. According to various studies by Dr. Manuel A. Morales Damian (2000 to 2010), specialist in history and anthropology from the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), plants were abodes of deities for pre-Hispanic men and women. In addition, not only were the plant and animal kingdoms considered an important and intrinsic part of human life, but the mountains, rivers, lakes, and atmospheric phenomena such as wind and rain and the celestial bodies possessed their own divine identity. We can therefore imagine what life was like for the indigenous peoples in relation to the natural elements around them. They tried to become at one with them by a sacred symbiosis; the leaders of their communities were interested in preserving their natural wealth, and the poet king Nezahualcoyotl wrote very beautiful poems about caring for the sacred environment. However, even though we want to make it clear that the pre-Hispanic indigenous peoples had great respect for biodiversity and lived and coexisted with it as a living being with rights and consciousness, this does not mean they lacked an entire complex material infrastructure. The indigenous peoples had come to an understanding on how to take advantage of and to use their resources without overexploiting them. Thus, after the arrival of the Spaniards, one of the main problems was their view on how to use natural resources. The colonizers had permanent crops and farmland, while the indigenous peoples relied on nonpermanent or rotational cultivation. The indigenous communities, in being dispossessed of their land, had no choice but to migrate to smaller areas and poorer soils. This led to the continuous exploitation of their land that did not ―rest" between one planting season and the next one. In the opinion of Professor Luisa Fernanda Herrera, of UNAM‘s Department of Anthropology, the indigenous peoples treated their land with respect; their agricultural practices did not degrade the environment, but rather maintained the fertility of its soil and prevented erosion. A national and global issue of great concern today is the misuse and abuse of what nature offers us, a situation that sooner or later will come to an end not because of human influence, but because nature itself will find a remedy by treating humankind as a problem that has to be eliminated. According to several specialists in the field, one of the main risks that Mexico currently faces involves the granting of large tracts of land for mining, since this activity is carried out on in the open air using methods that are very harmful to the subsoil. At the same time, high-value land is purchased from farmers and ejido owners —a figure that currently represents 40% of the country‘s territory, according to reports by Claudia Sheinbaum (2006), Ph.D. in Energy Engineering from the UNAM. Meanwhile, Professor of Environmental and Ecological Economics at the UNAM, Enrique Provencio, argues that "we do not have a long-term environmental and sustainability Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 113 outlook. There is the perception that we are faced with an enormous challenge, not only in terms of supplying resources for development but, above all, of affecting human lives." (Interview; La Jornada, 07 march 2012, p. 16.) In Mexico, about 14,000 people die each year due to air pollution related diseases, according to the report from the Clean Air Institute, in its April 2013 study on air quality in Latin America. Unfortunately, the economic interests involved ensure that in the end analysis, environmental standards are negotiable. While it is true that ecological measures have been taken to somewhat curb environmental devastation and there are several programs sponsored by national institutions in favor of the environment, we must not forget and lose sight of the fact that this is not solely a matter of interest in human survival. Even though it is said that global warming is not just a matter of dollars and cents, but also human lives, the problem remains precisely that: humankind is the result of the environment, part of a complex form of existence that is not merely human. We cannot continue to view everything in function of an interest in human existence; our species emerged thanks to the favorable conditions that existed at the time on earth. We are part of nature, but we its primary objective; nature does not exist to serve for us, rather, we exist because nature caused our existence. Perhaps if we could go back and see all the wonders that surround us, as our ancestors wisely did, without erecting ourselves as masters of the environment, but, as part of it, educating our younger generations to respect what has given us life and sustenance, what has generously provided us with a suitable home, possibly we could still salvage something from the lost magnificence, but we must insist, not as owners of the environment, but as its children. CONCLUSION It has been determined that there are individuals who are far more vulnerable than others to what takes place in their environment; and in saying this we are not only referring to biological age, but also to the internal state of each person, which enables him or her to have greater or fewer internal resources to cope with the external situation. And perhaps herein lies the explanation for the fact that today Mexicans are much more concerned about their economic situation than the costs of damaging the country‘s environment. Mexicans are accustomed to visiting our fields and seeing their intense greenness, to going to the lakes and finding a variety of fish, to still breathing fresh air in many regions of the country —in short-, to taking from Mother Earth everything we need without really being very much aware that natural resources are not everlasting. We view our varied and generous environment as an inexhaustible supplier of resources; we believe we are in the age in which Mexico generously supplied the indigenous peoples, still saving unexpected treasures for the inhabitants of those days. We have not wanted to wake up to the reality in which the country has undergone considerable transformation and, unfortunately, not all of which was for the better. This denial has led to the pitiful situation that we are now in. Our internal resources as Mexicans are as depleted as the external resources; the country is being consumed and we along with it. There is nothing left for us to do but to place our hope in the awakening of consciousness to perceive and act. This is a call to the children of our nation, but also a global call to protect our planet. This is our land, our world, so devastated that we must awaken to the precarious situation of our Complimentary Contributor Copy 114 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez environment today. It‘s not enough for well-intentioned people to come together, and leave it at that —good intentions. Measures taken by governments have proven fruitless, and even international environmental protection organizations been unable to make any relevant change to the pressing situation in which we find ourselves. As always, the best path to radical change is education, but we‘re not talking about the kind of education that only a few institutions might include as an environmental awareness option among their course requirements. This is a grave problem for the people of the world and it should be treated as such. To begin finding the causes, we have, for example, the media, which could be an excellent tool for awareness. But broadcast television channels are crammed with all types of advertising, for all manner of consumer products for the viewer, convincing them that these products are essential for living well, for being in fashion. Marketing will undoubtedly always win out. At the same time, the entire planet is perishing because of a lack of attention to its true problems. Radio behaves a lot like television, except on a few occasions when it broadcasts debates or news of interest. Worse still, most of the time even important news is treated with political sensationalism, where —as is common in this country— there‘s a lot of talk and little action. And most of the information found in newspapers has been reduced to social notes, tabloid reporting, mediocre politics, or simply advertising. Finally, there are the digital media, to which the vast majority of the population, at least in urban areas, has access through increasingly attractive offers and prices. What Web pages are the most popular? Certainly not those devoted to environmental protection. Here we have no one to blame but society itself. Because we lack environmental education, and what we have is insufficient. We have insisted repeatedly that actions speak louder the words. We must devote ourselves to reforestation, water conservation, respect for plants and animals, proper handling of waste, appropriate and energetic sanctions for the many industries which pollute egregiously, reduce the use of cars by promoting and equipping roads for cyclists, defending environmental spaces such as green areas and natural preserves. It is also paramount to motivate public and private investment in research, encouraging scientist to work on eco-technologies that use less natural resources. Their indiscriminate exploitation has caused an unfathomable climate change, even geological damage, in the reckless extraction of oil deposits, which has weakened the matter that helps to sustain the tectonic plates and resulted in increasing seismic activity. We must not wait for this catastrophic damage to become irremediably permanent, for the land of this generous planet to continue being wasted, today by ourselves and later by our children. In Mexico, this is a fundamental problem for all Mexicans, and every one of us must help if we want to leave better living conditions to our descendants. But finally, we all share this home called planet Earth, so the problem of the environment is one shared by every citizen of the globe. REFERENCES Aditi Roy, Katarzyna Kordas, Patricia Lopez, Jorge L. Rosado, Mariano E. Cebrian, Gonzalo Garcia Vargas, Dolores Ronquillo, Rebecca J. Stoltzfus. (2011). Association between arsenic exposure and behavior among first-graders from Torreón, Mexico, Environmental Research 111, pp.670–676. Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 115 Angulo, L. (2010), “El derrame del pozo Ixtoc, en México‖, La Jornada ecológica. Bell, M.L., Cifuentes, L.A., Davis, D.L., Cushing, E., Gusman, A.T., Gouveia, N. (2011) Environmental health indicators and a case study of air pollution in Latin American cities, Environmental Research 111, pp. 57–66. Campos A.C. (2014), Trends in soil respiration on the eastern slope of the Cofre de Perote Volcano (Mexico): Environmental contributions, Catena 114 pp.59–66. Castro, J.D. (2009) “Cromatos de México”, La Jornada ecológica. Cifuentes, E., Lozano, F.K., Trasande, L., Goldman, R.H., (2011) Resetting our príorities in environmental health: An example from the south–north partnership in Lake Chapala, Mexico, Environmental Research 111, pp.877–880. Crónica, ―Hace 18 años, la explosión en Guadalajara‖. by Julio Brito A. (February 11, 2013). http://www.cronica.com.mx/notas/2010/499931.html Crawford-Brown, D., Barker, T., Anger, A., Dessens, O. (2012), Ozone and PM related health co-benefits of climate change policies in Mexico, Environmental Science & Policy 17, pp. 33–40. Cupul-Uicab, L.A., Hernández-Ávila, M., Terrazas-Medina, E.A., Pennell, M.L., Longnecker, M.P., (2010). Prenatal exposure to the major DDT metabolite 1,1-dichloro-2,2-bis(pchlorophenyl)ethylene(DDE)and growth in boys from Mexico, Environmental Research 110, pp. 595–603. Glenn, E.P., Flessa, K.W., Pitt, J. (2013) Restoration potential of the aquatic ecosystems of the Colorado River Delta, Mexico: Introduction to special issue on ―Wetlands of the Colorado River Delta", Ecological Engineering 59, pp.1–6. Editorial, The 2010 oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico: What would Mother Nature do? Ecological Engineering 36 (2010) 1607–1610. Harris, R., Pollman, C., Landing, W.L., Evans, D., Axelrad, D., Hutchinson, D., Morey, S.L., Rumbold, D., Dukhovskoy, D., Adams, D.H., Vijayaraghavan, K., Holmes, C., R. Dwight Atkinson, Myers, T., Sunderland, E., (2012) Mercury in the Gulf of Mexico: Sources to receptors, Environmental Research 119, pp. 42–52. Maravilla,D., Mendoza, B., Jáuregui, E. Lara, A., (2014), The main períodicities in the minimum extreme temperature in northern Mexico and their relation with solar variability, Advances in Space Research 34 A.365–369. McGroddy, M. Lawrence, D., Schneider, L., Rogan, J., Zager, I., Schmook, B. (2013) Damage patterns after Hurricane Dean in the southern Yucatán: Has human activity resulted in more resilient forests?, Forest Ecology and Management 310, pp. 812–820. Montes, S., Riojas-Rodríguez, H., Sabido-Pedraza, E., Ríos, C. (2008). Biomarkers of manganese exposure in a population living close to a mine and mineral processing plant in Mexico, Environmental Research 106, pp. 89–95. Ontiveros-Cuadras, J.F., Ruiz-Fernández, A.C., Sanchez-Cabeza, J.A., Pérez-Bernal, L.H., Sericano, J.L., Preda, M., Wee Kwong, L.L., Páez-Osuna, F. (2014). Trace element fluxes and natural potential risks from 210Pb-dated sediment cores in lacustrine environments at the Central Mexican Plateau, Science of the Total Environment 468–469, 677–687. Pastén-Zapata, E., Ledesma-Ruiz, R., Harter, T., Ramírez, A.I., Mahlknecht, J. (2014) Assessment of sources and fate of nitrate in shallow groundwater of an agricultural area by using a multi-tracer approach, Science of the Total Environment 470–471, pp. 855– 864. Complimentary Contributor Copy 116 J. Serrano-Arellano, J. L. Chávez-Servín and M. Dávila-Núñez Proceso. ―La tragedia de San Juanico‖. La Redacción. (january 18, 2002). http://www.proceso.com.mx/?p=239391 Reuters México, ―CRONOLOGIA-Derrame de petróleo en Golfo de México‖ Erwin Seba, Ros Krasny (2010). Roger D. Masters, Brian Hone, Anil Doshi, ―Environmental Pollution, Neurotoxicity, and Criminal Violence,‖ in J. Rose, ed., Aspects of Environmental Toxicity (London: Gordon & Breach), pp. 13-45. Rivera-Guzmán, N.E., Moreno-Casasola, P., Ibarra-Obando, S.E., Sosa, V.J., HerreraSilveira, J. (2014) Long term state of coastal lagoons in Veracruz, Mexico: Effects of land use changes in watersheds on seagrasses habitats, Ocean & Coastal Management 87, pp. 30-39. Senko, J., Mancini, A., Seminoff, J.A., Koch, V. (2014). By catch and directed harvest drive high green turtle mortality at Baja California Sur, Mexico, Biological Conservation 169, pp. 24–30. Smith, F.A., Elliott, S., Blake, D.R., Rowland, S. (2002) Spatiotemporal variation of methane and other trace hydrocarbon concentrations in the Valley of Mexico, Environmental Science & Policy 5, 449–461. Úrsula Oswald Spring, Aquatic systems and water security in the Metropolitan Valley of Mexico City, Current Opinion in Environmental Sustainability 2011, 3:497–505. Other References Ordorica M. & Prud´homme J.F., ―Los Grandes Problemas de México” IV. Política, 2012. El Colegio de México, A.C. ISBN 978-607-462-293-5 http://www.colmex.mx/gpm/ images/PDF/IV_POLITICA.pdf Cuanalo Zepeda, L., “La Década de los cuarenta en México”. http://hicu1.dosmildiez.net /marcov/LorenaCuanalo.pdf Domínguez Chávez, H.C. & Aguilar, R.A., ―La modernización económica y consolidación del sistema político, 1940-1970.‖. http://portalacademico.cch.unam.mx/materiales/ Modernizacion.pdf Munguía, A.N., Experiencia de México en la aplicación de la Ley Ambiental en el Marco del Acuerdo de Cooperación Ambiental del TLC. http://www.ecologiaradical.com.mx/Ley% 20Ambiental%20en%20el.pdf. Diversidad Ambiental., Graves, las consecuencias ambientales y de salud que provoca el uso de las pilas. February 9, 2007. http://www.diversidadambiental.org/medios/nota066.html. Norma Oficial Mexicana NOM-52-ECOL- 1993. http://www.inb.unam.mx/stecnica/ nom052_semarnat.pdf SEMARNAT. Compendio de Estadísticas Ambientales 2008: Estimación e integración de la información sobre residuos industriales peligrosos en México. http://app1.semarnat. gob.mx/dgeia/informe_2008/compendio_2008/compendio2008/10.100.8.236_8080/ibi_a pps/WFServletb420.html CNN México., ―Licencia de Dragón Mart, definitiva e inatacable: director del proyecto‖. By Muñoz M. (August 29, 2013). http://mexico.cnn.com/nacional/2013/08/29/licencia-dedragon-mart-definitiva-e-inatacable-director-del-proyecto. Complimentary Contributor Copy An Analytical Retrospective of Mexico for a Sustainable Future 117 De la Fuente R., Medina Mora M.E., Caraveo J., Salud Mental en México, Toxicología y Sociedad: La Hipótesis de Masters. Garza Almanza Victoriano. (April 27, 1998). Editorial Fondo de Cultura Económica. http://www2.uacj.mx/publicaciones/sf/num11-12/gestion.html. Salud Mental y los defectos congénitos. Accessed 30 May 2014. http://www2.uacj.mx/ publicaciones/sf/num11-12/gestion.html. Salud y Niños Divulgación en Avances de Salud y Bienestar Infantil, pesticidas y niños. (December 11, 2012) Accessed 30 May 2014.http://salud-ninos.euroresidentes.com/ 2012/12/pesticidas-y-ninos.html. Holahan.C.J., (2007) Psicología Ambiental, Editorial Limusa. Goleman D., (2010, June) Inteligencia Emocional, Editorial Zeta. Jiménez, M.M., Daños a la salud causados por ruido, M.en C. Leñero. http://www.facmed. unam.mx/deptos/salud/censenanza/spivst/spiv/indexspiv_files/ruido.pdf Academia Mexicana de Ciencias, Los efectos de la contaminación ambiental sobre nuestra salud.http://www.revistaciencia.amc.edu.mx/index.php?option=com_content&task=view &id=73. Calvo Benedi M., P Mcgraw-revención de riesgos laborales. Plan de Cualificación Inicial (PCPI): Unidad 3 Factores de riesgo derivados de las condiciones de trabajo Mc.GrawHill Interamericana de España, SL. (May, 2010) ISBN 8448171586..http://www.mcgrawhill.es/bcv/guide/capitulo/8448171586.pdf. Morales, D.A., El hombre y el medio en el pensamiento prehispánico. http://www.uaeh. edu.mx/investigacion/icshu/LI_HistAntro/Alber_Mora/hombre.pdf La Jornada, Trágica: la situación ambiental en el país por sobrexplotación de recursos. (March 7, 2012) http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2012/03/07/politica/016n1pol. El País, La contaminación atmosférica en México, “una situación de riesgo”. (may 28, 2013) http://sociedad.elpais.com/sociedad/2013/05/28/actualidad/1369776372_369117.html Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 5 ESTUARINE AND COASTAL FISHES FROM YUCATAN PENINSULA: DIVERSITY AND ECOLOGY Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S.* Instituto Politécnico Nacional, Unidad Mérida, Mexico ABSTRACT The karstic nature of the Yucatan Peninsula increases substantially the biodiversity of this tropical region. Freshwater inputs that reach the coast result in heterogeneous and highly hydrologic variable ecosystems, where native fauna and high species richness are observed. An extensive (350 km) and wide temporal research (1985-2012) was realized in the Yucatan coast, with the objective to evaluate and contrast fish diversity and species distribution in Biosphere Reserves (Celestun, Ria Lagartos), Protected Areas (Palmar, Bocas de Dzilam), and the unprotected zone (Progreso, Chelem and Rosada lagoons), where urban activities are developed. A total of 202 fish species were recorded and sites with better health conditions (high species richness and diversity) were indicated (Celestun, Ria Lagartos lagoons). Highest fish density and biomass values were found in Palmar and Rosada Lagoon because of a clear dominance of few species (3 to 5) conforming 50% from total abundance, with some of them categorized as endemic and threatened. Protected and unprotected areas didn‘t show significant differences among them, so we considered that the Yucatan coast is in good health condition. Biosphere Reserves have an important function to maintain the biodiversity conservation and the sustainable use of fishery resources in Yucatan coast. However, the increase of urbanization, fishery and tourist activities need to be regulated. It is concluded that the coastal corridor connecting the ecological reserves, gives away to the biotic flow and maintains the stability and biodiversity of the ecosystems not subject to any kind of protection. Keywords: Biodiversity, coastal lagoons, biosphere, ecosystem, fishery industry, and aquatic species * [email protected], [email protected]. Complimentary Contributor Copy 120 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. INTRODUCTION All along the coast with 350 km of littoral (3.1% from the national total), Yucatan Sate is considered of great economic value because of its biodiversity, the abundance of fishery resources and tourist heritage. In fact, this is one of the leading Sates in regard to fisheries‘ capture like groupers, snappers, lobsters and shrimps, among others (Arreguin-Sánchez et al., 1993; Mexicano-Cíntora et al., 2007). The presence of an extensive (10 km) and large surface area (100,000 km2) of continental shelf characterized by high environmental heterogeneity, are determinants. Also the particular karst topography that prevails in the Yucatan Peninsula promotes special hydrological properties, and a characteristic native fauna. The karstic nature is shaped by the dissolution of layer(s) of limestone bedrock where cracks, fractures, and other solution channel irregularities are present. These hydrological conditions result in rapid infiltration of rainfall with no surface drainage (Back & Hanshaw, 1970; Southworth, 1984). The coastal upwelling through the mixing of freshwater with the sea, provide nutrients (silicates, nitrates) and a salinity gradient to the coastline, developing unique physiographic and geographical conditions, which favor the presence of a typical flora and fauna, some of them of endemic nature. In these environments, spatio-temporal hydrological variations in function of the freshwater discharge from the springs are developed, leading to complex ecological processes in coastal lagoon systems and wetlands. In these environments, depending on the spatial and temporal fresh water discharge from springs, hydrological variations are developed, which are determinants for ecological processes developed in coastal lagoons and wetlands. Among the principal ecological functions of these coastal environments, we can mention the littoral protection, high primary productivity, critical and essential habitats for diverse species that use them as foraging and nursery areas at different life stages in a permanent, seasonal or occasional basis (Day et al., 2012). In these ecosystems, fish represent the largest biological component, and where species composition, richness and spatial and temporal distribution varies depending on the hydrological and climate variability (salinity, temperature, turbidity, dissolved oxygen, etc.), habitat structure (mangrove, aquatic vegetation like seagrass), and the presence of other organisms in function of feeding preferences and energy requirements, or reproductive strategies (Blaber 1997, Whitfield 1999). With the objective of evaluating fish species richness, species distribution and its abundance along this coastal area from the Yucatan Peninsula, an extensive (350 km) and wide temporal (1985-2012) research was realized in this Mexican coast. It was also considered to evaluate and contrast fish diversity and species distribution in Biosphere Reserves (Celestun, Ria Lagartos), Protected Areas (Palmar, Bocas de Dzilam), and the unprotected zone (Progreso, Chelem and Rosada Lagoons), where urban activities are developed. Complimentary Contributor Copy Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 121 MATERIAL AND METHODS Study Area The survey was carried out along the coast of Yucatan Sate (SE, Mexico), bordered in the west by El Palmar and Ria Celestun Reserves, in the eastern part by Ria Lagartos Biosphere and on the northwest side by the Gulf of Mexico (Figure 1). This area extends 350 km along the coast (13% of Yucatan Peninsula coast) and is recognized as part of the Mesoamerican Biological Coastal Corridor (MBCC). Due to karstic conditions of the region, all the coastal area is influenced by freshwater seeps and discharges, which occur mostly in the form of springs in the continental and marine zone, which is estimated to be around 9,905 x 106 m3 km-1 year-1 (Villasuso & Méndez, 2000). The groundwater follows different flows, which are controlled by the characteristics of the deep karst. Figure 1. Location of the surveyed area in the southern Gulf of Mexico showing the sampling sites in Yucatan, Mexico. Complimentary Contributor Copy 122 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. The underground water of the Peninsula circulates from the highest precipitation zones toward the coast, where the discharge of the natural aquifer takes place through a series of springs along the coastal zone, supplying water to marshes, lagoons, and the sea. In the eastern part of the Peninsula, discharge from the aquifer takes place offshore and through submarine springs and fractures in coastal lagoons. Along the Peninsula‘s western and northern coasts, discharge takes place through springs and underwater seepage. The morphology of the coast is dynamic and is determined naturally by the action of waves, currents and transport of materials that allow the sediment accumulation and coastal erosion. Climate in the region is semiarid and dry, with a more marked dry spell in the middle of the summer rainy season. The climatic regime is represented by three seasons: dry (March to June), rainy (July to October) and northerlies (November to February) (Herrera-Silveira & Ramírez, 1997). The tide is mixed and semidiurnal with a range of approximately 0.6 m (Capurro, 2002). Biosphere Reserves Celestun Lagoon This lagoon ecosystem is located in the northwest of the Yucatan Peninsula (20°45′N 90°25′W) in the Gulf of Mexico. It is a typical karstic lagoon (21.1 km long) characterized by its shallow nature (0.5-3.0 m). Hydrology is determined by the influence of the Gulf of Mexico through a permanent inlet (400 m wide), and considerable freshwater inputs from underground seeps and secondarily from rain. The lagoon system showed a salinity gradient from 33-37 in the inlet to 4-17, depending on the season of the year (Vega-Cendejas, 2004). Celestun was defined in 1988 as a Biosphere Reserve (CBR), with an extension of 59,430 ha. Its importance derives from a feeding and resting area for a large number of migratory birds, as well as being one of two nesting and feeding sites in Mexico of the pink flamingo (Phoenicopterus rubber rubber). It is also a critical habitat for some sea turtles and crocodile and in addition to the vegetation protects numerous endemic animal species. The biological importance of this lagoon is due to the great diversity of environments in a reduced space (28.14 km2), with mangroves bordering (Rizophora mangle, Laguncularia racemosa, Avicennia germinans and Conocarpus erectus) (Herrera-Silveira, 2006), and diverse aquatic vegetation with macrophytas (Chara fibrosa, Batophora oesterdi, Chaetomorpha linum, Ruppia sp) and seagrasses (Halodule wrightii, Thalassia testudinum) (Figure 2) Ria Lagartos Lagoon Ria Lagartos was designated as a National Wildlife Refuge and protected by the Mexican Federal Government since 1979 for having high biodiversity with the presence of undisturbed ecosystems, and for being flamingo‘s nursery and feeding areas. Likewise, it is in the list of Wetlands of International importance and is a protected Special Biosphere Reserve where limited human activities are allowed (Frazier, 1999). This ecosystem is a long (80 km) and shallow (1 -3 m) coastal embayment (area: 9,467 ha), bordered by mangroves and seagrass bed zones (Halodule wrightii and Ruppia sp.), located along the northeastern coast of the Yucatan Peninsula (21º26‘N - 87º30‘W) (Contreras, 1993). Complimentary Contributor Copy Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 123 Figure 2. Mangrove ecosystem in Celestun Biosphere Reserve. It is naturally connected to the sea via the mouth of San Felipe (1 km wide) and artificially by a canal that remains open all year round in front of the town of Ria Lagartos (0.2 km wide) (INE, 1994). It is characterized by the hyperhaline conditions recorded throughout much of its extension, which are the result of the geomorphology of the system, low precipitation, lack of rivers and high evaporation rate. Mean salinity is 55 with a horizontal gradient from the inlet (salinities 35) to the inner zone (93) (Vega-Cendejas & Hernández de S. 2004). The system is divided into three natural basins creating a complex circulation pattern that minimizes tidal influence and considering salinity, transparency and substrate, five types of habitat have been identified: hyperhaline, rocky, seagrass, channel and marine (Peralta & Vega-Cendejas, 2011). Protected Areas Bocas de Dzilam It is located in the central coast of Yucatan Sate (21º 26' N, 88º 42' W), with a surface of 9.4 km2, depth 1 to 2.5m, 12.9 km long, a maximum width of 1.65 km and with a permanent connection with the sea (375 m wide). Salinity levels are generally estuarine, although Complimentary Contributor Copy 124 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. euhaline and hyperhaline conditions have been recorded occasionally (Herrera, 2006). It was declared a protected natural area since 1989 by the presence of the tributaries and springs that provide critical habitats and a high-biodiversity ecotones regulated by fresh and salty water (Arceo & Vega-Cendejas, 2009). It is bordered by mangroves, with 80% of the bottom covered by macrophytes, dominated mainly by Halodule wrightii and Ruppia maritima (Herrera-Silveira et al. 1998; Medina-Gómez & Herrera-Silveira 2003). El Palmar This area of 36 km of coastline is located at the northeast of the Yucatan coast (21°15‘N 89°39‘W), which is part of the MBCC. It has been declared as a RAMSAR wetland site to ensure ecosystems conservation (forest, mangrove), and for being nursery and feeding area for larval and juvenile stages of the fishery resource and migratory birds (aquatic and terrestrial), including flamingo in their way to the Gulf of Mexico (Figure 3). Figure 3. El Palmar, Ecological natural Reserve located in the Easter part of Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico. Unprotected Zone Coastal Zone It extends along the entire coastal zone of the Yucatan Sate from Celestun in the southwest to El Cuyo in the east. Considering only the central part and excluding the four nature reserves, coastal Yucatan corridor covering about 124 km of 342.5 km, is characterized by its diversity of habitats including wetlands, coastal dunes and the artisanal fishery zone extending off the coast to a depth of 20 m. It includes a wide diversity of highly productive ecosystems, which are closely related, so that makes it kind of vulnerable to environmental changes by either natural or human-induced activities. The habitat heterogeneity of this area favors biodiversity, so altering their habitats generally results in a loss of the same. In this Complimentary Contributor Copy Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 125 unprotected area, different economical activities such as fishing, aquaculture, tourism, recreation and port commerce are realized. In this area, Progreso port, Laguna Chelem and Chixchulub sites are recognized to be resting places for local (summer) and international tourism (winter). Chelem Lagoon It is elongated, parallel to the coast and separated from the sea by a barrier island where the population of Chelem is located, near Progreso Port at 30 km north of Merida city (21º15‘N -89º39‘W). It has a surface area of 15 km2, 14.7 km long and width of 1.8 km, with an artificial inlet (225 m wide) and depth between 0.5 and 1.5 m, except in the area of the basin that is radically dredged (Valdés & Real, 1998). It is all bordered by mangroves (Avicennia germinans, Rhizophora mangle), and bottom covered by Laurencia microcladia, Ruppia maritima and Thalassia testudinum (Herrera-Silveira et al., 1998). Rosada Lagoon Very near from Telchac is located Rosada Lagoon; one of the most beautiful tourist complexes from Yucatan. This particular ecosystem is a place of migratory birds and a flamingo feeding and refuge area. Its name came from its particular color; however dredged and opening of the inlet because of tourist development, has changed this lagoon particularity SAMPLING AND LABORATORY PROCEDURES This chapter integrates results of ichthyologic studies from 1985 to 2012. Over these 27 years, continuous monitoring along the coast has been realized, whose intensity has varied from bimonthly to seasonal depending on research projects and complementary support. At each sampling station and prior to fish collections, water temperature (ºC), salinity and dissolved oxygen (mg l-1) were recorded mid-water with three replicas using a YSI-85 multiparameter (Yellow Spring Instrument). Fish collections were conducted in different habitats (continental shelf, coastal zone, seagrasses and mangroves) using a beach seine of two different sizes (15 x 1.5 m, 25 mm mesh, 3.5 x 1.0, 0.33 mm), and a shrimp trawl (inlet 3.0 m x 25 mm). The number of stations for each system varied depending on habitat heterogeneity and size. All the fish caught were placed in labeled bags and preserved in 15% formalin. In the laboratory, samples were transferred to 70% ethanol and identified to species level using specialized references (Fischer, 1978; Dickson & Moore, 1998; McEachran & Fechhelm, 2005). The systematic list of the fish species recorded in the study sites of Yucatan coast, were ordered according to the classification of Nelson (2006) and the nomenclature follows Eschmeyer & Fong (2013). Individual fish was measured (standard length to the nearest 0.01 cm), and weighed (to the nearest 0.1 g) to allow biomass (%B), numerical (%N) and frequency of occurrence (%FO) analyses. Voucher specimens of all fish species were deposited in the scientific collection of Centro de Investigacion y de Estudios Avanzados del Instituto Politecnico Nacional (Key No.: YUC. PEC 084 0999). Complimentary Contributor Copy 126 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. Data Analysis For this chapter, the total fish species recorded provided the taxonomic information, and for those species for which there were records of abundance (density and biomass), the ecological parameters such as species richness (S), diversity by Shannon-Wiener index (H') and evenness index (J') were determined. The density and biomass data were standardized to 100 m2. Dominance was estimated using the Importance Value Index (IVI), which takes into account the relative density (RD), biomass (RB), and frequency (RF) of each species (IVI = RD+ RB + RF) (Brower & Zar, 1977). This value ranges from 0 to 300; when divided by 3 this is referred to as the percentage of importance. The species that together formed at least 70% were considered as dominant. Fish species were grouped as euryhaline, stenohaline, estuarine, and freshwater based or their origin and salinity tolerance using the criteria proposed by Castro-Aguirre et al. (1999). The study sites were evaluated on the base of level of anthropogenic impact developed along the coast of Yucatan, and they were classified as: Protected or Unprotected, if they have or not an Ecological Importance or are Biosphere Reserves. Fish assemblage composition and species distribution across the coastal zone of Yucatan, were evaluated using multivariate analysis. Non-metric multidimensional scaling (MDS) with 1000 iterations, derived from a Bray-Curtis similarity matrix constructed from the fish density data was conducted. The effect of extreme values was minimized by transforming the species abundance data by its fourth root. Non-metric multidimensional scaling is a distance based procedure that ordinates study units based on rank dissimilarities. Because it avoids assumptions of linearity and accurately maps sample units in ordination space in proportion to ecological distance, MDS is considered well suited for analyzing patterns in assemblage structure. Values < 0.15 indicate a good fit (Clarke & Warwick, 2001). Likewise, an analysis of similarity (ANOSIM) was performed to evaluate differences in species richness and diversity among the study sites and between protected and unprotected systems. This procedure consists of a statistical test (R), which is analogous to an ANOVA. The null hypothesis tested was that no differences existed between the fish assemblages in different zones (Quinn & Keough, 2002). Species contribution by study site was evaluated with a similarity percentage (SIMPER) test, which determines the percentage contribution of each species in order to classify a group (similarity) and discriminate species among sample groups (dissimilarity). These analyses were performed with the statistics program PRIMER v. 6 (Clarke & Gorley, 2006). RESULTS Environmental Parameters Temperature showed a range of values typical for the tropical water bodies studied (22.0 - 32.0 ºC) with small variation among them. On contrast, dissolved oxygen, conductivity and salinity varied strongly across localities (Table 1). In Palmar, is evident the lowest dissolved oxygen and salinity values recorded, while the high conductivity showed significant records indicating that this site receives significant groundwater discharges. Moreover, it is Complimentary Contributor Copy 127 Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula remarkable the hiperhaline conditions of Lagartos Lagoon, which showed a spatial negative salinity gradient along the length of the lagoon: average salinity was 51.0. On the other, Celestun lagoon showed estuarine behavior with a salinity gradient from the inlet (marine) to the inner zone (freshwater seeps), while the Coastal Zone, Dzilam, Chelem and Rosada Lagoons showed marine characteristic with salinity average values among 34 to 36. Table 1. Mean environmental parameters (T: temperature, DO: dissolved oxygen, Cond.: Conductivity and Salinity) obtained for each study site. Standard deviation is provided in parenthesis Study sites T ºC DO mg-1 Cond. µS cm-1 Salinity Lagartos Lagoon 27.5 (3.4) 4.7 (2.20) 74.6 (26.6) 51.0 (21.6) Chelem Lagoon 28.6 (2.5) 5.7 (3.7) 57.0 (8.6) 35.7 (5.6) El Palmar 26.6 (2.1) 3.6 (3.9) 1436.7 (1515.7) 7.5 (10.6) Rosada Lagoon 30.3 (1.2) 8.5 (3.2) 62.2 (5.3) 36.7 (1.4) Boca de Dzilam 27.9 (2.6) 6.6 (3.6) 54.8 (7.6) 34.3 (3.5) Celestun Lagoon 28.3 (9.0) 5.1 (4.5 ) 39.1 (10.2) 22.9 (8.4) Coastal Zone 26.8 (2.3) 8.8 (3.4) 56.7 (4.0) 36.2 (1.7) Fish Composition From the 563 fish species recorded in Mexican estuarine lagoons (Castro-Aguirre et al., 1999), a total of 202 species included in 64 families have been found in Yucatan coast, Mexico. This area incorporates Biosphere Reserves (Celestun, Ria Lagartos), Protected Areas (Palmar, Bocas de Dzilam), and the unprotected zone corresponding to the Mesoamerican Corridor including Progreso, Sinanche, Yobain, Chelem and Rosada Lagoons. Among these, seven fish species correspond to the group of rays (Chondrichthyes), and 195 are bony fishes (Actinopterygii) Overall, 49% of the species caught were stenohaline, 42% were associated with brackish waters, lagoons, and oceanic waters (eurihaline), 5% correspond to the freshwater component and 4% complete all their life cycle in estuarine waters (estuarine) (Table 2). A total of 27 families are the best representative of Yucatan coast, conforming 78 % of all the species (Figure 4). The family with the highest number of species was Sciaenidae (grunts) with 16 species. Follow in importance Sygnathidae (seahorses and pipefish), Carangidae (jack fish) and Haemulidae (grunts). Biosphere Reserves (Celestun and Ria Lagartos lagoons) are the most diverse in terms of habitat heterogeneity and species richness with 151 and 116 species each. Celestun lagoon showed the highest diversity values (3.9 bits). By contrast, in Rosada Lagoon and El Palmar, the fewer species and lower diversity was recorded, which is related to the dominance and Complimentary Contributor Copy 128 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. high abundance of few species. The average density and biomass of both sites is significantly higher compared with the other systems (Table 3). Figure 4. Representative families considering fish species from Yucatan coast, Mexico. Table 2. Fish families recorded in the study areas of Yucatan coast (CL: Celestun lagoon, LL: Lagartos Lagoon, P: El Palmar, DZ: Bocas Dzilam , ChL: Chelem lagoon, CZ: Coastal Zone, RL: Rosada Lagoon) with their ecological category code (EC): SH= Stenohaline; EH= Eurihaline; E= Estuarine; F= Freshwater Biosphere Reserves Family Narcinidae CL Protected Areas LL P Unprotected Zone DZ ChL X CZ EC RL X Rhinobatidae X Urotrygonidae X X Dasyatidae X X Gymnuridae X X X Myliobatidae X X Elopidae X X X X X Albulidae X X X X X Muraenidae X SH X SH X X SH X X SH X SH X SH X X Complimentary Contributor Copy EH SH SH 129 Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula Ophichthidae Biosphere Reserves X Protected Areas Unprotected Zone EC EH Dussumieriidae X Clupeidae X X X X X SH Engraulidae X X X X X X EH EH, SH Characidae X D Heptapteridae X D Ariidae X X X Synodontidae X X X X X X X X X Ogcocephalidae X X Mugilidae X X Atherinopsidae X X Bythitidae Batrachoididae Antennariidae Atherinidae X EH X EH X EH X SH SH X X X X X X X X EH X EH, E X SH Hemiramphidae X X X X X Belonidae X X X X X Fundulidae X X X X X X Cyprinodontidae X X X X X X Poeciliidae X X X X Syngnathidae X X X Fistulariidae X Scorpaenidae EH X X EH X EH, SH E X E D X EH, SH SH X X Triglidae X X X X X SH Centropomidae X X X X X EH Serranidae X X X EH, SH Echeneidae X SH Pomatomidae X Rachycentridae X Carangidae X X Lutjanidae X X Lobotidae Gerreidae SH SH X X X X X X EH, SH X X X EH, SH X X X X Haemulidae X X X X X Sparidae X X X X X Polynemidae X X Sciaenidae X X Kyphosidae Pomacanthidae SH X X X EH EH, SH EH, SH X EH, SH X SH X EU, SH X SH X Complimentary Contributor Copy SH 130 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. Table 2. (Continued) Biosphere Reserves Protected Areas X E, D X X Uranoscopidae X X SH X SH Labrisomidae X EC Cichlidae Labridae X Unprotected Zone X X EH Scaridae X X Gobiidae X X X Ephippidae X X X Sphyraenidae X X X X X Scombridae X X Paralichthyidae X X X X X SH, EH Achiridae X X X X X EH Cynoglossidae X X X X X EH Monacanthidae X X X X X SH Ostraciidae X X X X EH Tetraodontidae X X X X X X X X X Diodontidae X SH X SH, EH X EH X SH SH X EH, SH EH, SH Table 3. Ecological parameters obtained for each sampling site of Yucatan coast, Mexico. Species richness (S), average density (D: No.100m-2), biomass (g.100 m-2), diversity (H') and evenness (J'). Dominant species, considering Importance Value Index (>50%) are indicated and he number of exclusive species CELESTUN EL PALMAR CHELEM LAGOON LAGUNA ROSADA BOCAS DZILAM LAGARTOS LAGOON COASTAL ZONE S 151 20 71 16 89 116 97 Density 1.0 28.7 3.6 41.8 4.3 4.5 2.3 Biomass 35.7 90.8 17.9 37.1 41.7 18.1 36.0 H'(loge) 3.9 1.5 2.4 1.2 2.9 2.7 3.0 J' 0.9 0.5 0.6 0.4 Dominant L. A. aeneux (41.4) F. polyommus E. argenteus species (%) rhomboides A. altior (19.6) (22.2) (31.8) (19.7) S. testudineus F. polyommus A. (15.3) (12.2) rhomboidalis A. stipes (16.7) M. cephalus (9.4) (13.2) E. gula (8.0) S. felis (7.0 Exclusive species 16 6 4 0 0.7 0.6 S. testudineus S. testudineus (20.5) (20.1) E. gula (10.0) Menidia colei A. mitchilli (18.5) (6.2) F. polyommus F. (13.0) polyommus (4.9) F. persimilis (5.4) L. rhomboides (4.7) 7 12 Complimentary Contributor Copy 0.7 S. felis (7.8) H. jaguana (17.8) L. rhomboides (7.3) A. hepsetus 10.3 T. falcatus (3.9) S. testudineus (5.4) 14 Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 131 In general terms, tropical lagoon systems are characterized by the dominance of few species identified on the basis of its abundance, biomass and high frequency (Figure 5). At Celestun there were nine dominant species (77% from total) and at Ria Lagartos 10 species contributes with 75% from total. In Chelem, Laguna Rosada, and Bocas Dzilam, three to five species contribute more than 50 % to the total abundance. Only one of the dominant species occurred in all sites (Floridichthys polyommus), but with a notable abundance in Ria Lagartos, an hyperhaline ecosystem. The other dominant species with a wide distribution in the coastal area of Yucatan were checkered puffer (Sphoeroides testudineus), gerrids (Eucinostomus gula, E. argenteus), needlefish (Strongylura notata), and mullet (Mugil trichodon). All of these species correspond to the marine eurihaline component with a wide tolerance to salinity variations. Figure 5. Dominant fish species by site of study, considering the Importance Value Index (IVI) expressed as percentage. Considering SIMPER analysis, several species are representative from Celestun and Coastal Zone, with abundance values showing an equal distribution among fish species (Table 4). On contrast, in Palmar an ecological reserve, a clear dominance of the freshwater component is evident. Among the representative fishes, we found endemic and protected species (Gambusia yucatana, Poecilia velifera), and estuarine fish species (F. polyommus, Cyprinodon artifrons) with great abundances. In Lagartos Lagoon the estuarine species component is representative with Menidia colei (endemic and threatened species), and Atherinomorus stipes as representative. Also in Bocas of Dzilam, where freshwater is discharged through tributaries in the coastal zone, the estuarine fish species have a greater contribution to their abundance and the presence of native and endemic species in this area is Complimentary Contributor Copy 132 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. apparent with Fundulus representatives. In Rosada lagoon, eurihaline fish species were recorded (mugilids, gerrids) with great abundances. Table 4. Representative species considering SIMPER analysis for each site of study from Yucatan, Mexico. Celestun: Ce, Palmar: P, Chelem: Ch, Rosada Lagon: RL, Largartos lagoon: LL, Yucatan Coast: YC Species Ce P Ch RL DZ LL YC Astyanax aeneus 0.00 4.29 0.00 0.0 0.00 0.00 0.00 Astyanax altior 0.00 2.99 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 Poecilia velifera 0.00 2.14 1.98 0.00 1.34 1.17 0.00 Poecilia mexicana 0.00 1.71 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 Gambusia yucatana 0.43 2.72 0.86 0.00 1.18 0.00 0.00 Belonesoz belizanus 0.00 1.17 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 Anchoa mitchilli 1.23 0.00 1.04 0.00 2.70 2.50 1.73 Anchoa hepsetus 0.83 0.00 0.80 0.00 2.72 0.78 2.72 Anchoa lyolepis 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.96 0.00 1.77 Anchoa lamprotaenia 0.84 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.19 1.29 1.46 Anchoviella cubana 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.46 0.00 2.61 Rocio octofasciata 0.00 2.05 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 Lagodon rhomboides 1.50 0.00 0.00 1.28 1.57 1.31 0.00 Fundulus grandissimus 0.00 1.27 0.84 0.00 0.00 1.29 0.79 Fundulus persimilis 0.00 0.99 0.89 0.00 3.12 1.17 1.07 Rhamdia quelen 0.00 1.40 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 Cyprindon artifrons 0.86 2.24 1.53 0.00 2.56 2.02 0.00 Floridichthys polyommus 1.41 0.99 2.08 2.23 1.46 2.00 0.90 Jordanella pulchra 0.00 1.21 1.31 0.00 0.71 2.14 0.00 Lucania parva 1.08 0.00 1.39 0.00 1.17 2.05 0.00 Bagre marinus 1.47 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.89 Sciades felis 1.40 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.42 1.20 1.55 Eucinostomus gula 1.25 0.00 0.00 1.46 1.45 1.77 1.25 Eucinostomus argenteus 1.16 1.69 1.29 4.13 1.49 1.69 1.20 Gerres cinereus 1.44 0.92 0.79 0.00 0.94 0.97 0.00 Eucinostomus harengulus 1.00 0.00 1.18 0.00 1.21 1.74 1.02 Anchoviella cubana 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.46 0.00 2.61 Lagodon rhomboides 0.00 0.00 1.71 1.28 1.57 1.31 1.43 Atherinomorus stipes 0.00 0.00 3.37 0.00 0.00 3.87 0.00 Menidia colei 0.68 0.00 1.57 1.30 0.96 3.44 0.00 Cichlasoma urophthalmus 1.36 1.08 0.92 0.00 0.99 1.05 0.00 Mugil trichodon 1.10 0.00 1.50 1.07 1.37 1.06 1.10 Mugil cephalus 0.80 0.00 0.00 4.16 1.31 0.83 0.68 Mugil curema 0.75 0.00 1.03 2.15 1.50 2.03 2.03 Complimentary Contributor Copy 133 Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula Species Ce P Ch RL DZ LL YC Sphyraena barracuda 0.43 0.00 0.88 1.07 0.83 0.86 0.92 Harengula jaguana 0.98 0.00 1.28 1.58 1.88 1.78 1.99 Harengula clupeola 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 2.17 0.00 Sphoeroides testudineus 0.98 0.00 0.98 0.00 1.42 1.28 0.90 Total contribution 22.98 28.86 29.22 21.71 41.94 44.77 29.42 Fish Structure and Assemblages By performing the MDS analysis considering fish composition and abundance, three assemblages were formed at 50% similarity with significant differences among them (ANOSIM, R: 1.00, p: 0.05) (Figure 6). The first one with a low similarity (18%) in comparison with the rest of the sites is represented by El Palmar, where freshwater fish species are representative. In group II the Rosada lagoon, also with a low similarity with the others (30%), differentiates because of the great abundances of mullets and gerrids, most of them on juvenile stage. Finally Group III conforms a big assemblage including Celestun, Chelem, Yucatan Coast, Bocas Dzilam and Ria Lagartos. All these study sites share most of the fish species and without any significant difference among them. Figure 6. Analysis of non-metric multi-dimensional scaling ordination (MDS) of fish assemblage structure in coastal sites of Yucatan Sate categorized by level of protection. The same pattern, occurs when the analysis is based on presence/absence with differences among sites, but without dissimilarity among protected and unprotected sites (ANOSIM: R = -0.03, p = 0.62). However species richness and diversity showed variations between both categories (Protected: 153 species, 3.3 bits; Unprotected: 119 species, 2.6 bits, respectively) (Table 5). An endemic and threatened species (Gambusia yucatana, Poecilia velifera, Fundulus sp.), were registered exclusively and with high abundances in protected pools. On Complimentary Contributor Copy 134 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. contrast, in unprotected sites, mullets and anchovies are the most representative, with F. polyommus as a common species among the study sites. Table 5. Comparative average ecological parameters of the fish species obtained for each category of protection in Yucatan coast. Representative species are expressed considering their relative abundance (%A) Density (No.100 m2) Biomass (g.100 M2) Species richness Diversity Evenness Representative species %A Protected 4.90 (24.3) 34.43 (97.7) 153 3.28 0.65 Astyanax aeneus Atherinomorus stipes Fundulus persimilis Anchoa mitchilli Cyprindon artifrons Astyanax altior Gambusia yucatana 21.49 14.22 6.19 6.01 5.50 5.09 3.62 Unprotected 6.24 (32.40) 29.13 (64.21) 119 2.6 0.54 Mugil cephalus 33.24 Atherinomorus stipes 14.40 Anchoa hepsetus 6.16 Anchoviella cubana 5.14 Floridichthys polyommus4.92 Harengula jaguana 2.74 Eucinostomus argenteus 2.74 Figure 7. Species number per family and percentage from the total recorded in Celestun, El Palmar, Chelem Lagoon and Rosada Lagoon. The representative families for each study area differ among them (Figures 7 and 8). However, the representative families for the group III (Celestun, Chelem, Yucatan Coast, Bocas Dzilam and Ria Lagartos) are Scianidae, Sparidae, Carangidae and Gerreidae. Only in Chelem and Lagartos lagoon, the sygnathids (pipefishes and seahorses) are an important group. In El Palmar was evident the freshwater component (Poeciliidae, Cichlidae, Complimentary Contributor Copy Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 135 Cyprinodontidae), while in Rosada Lagoon pelagic fishes were representative (Mugilidae and Belonidae). Figure 8. Species number per family and percentage from the total recorded in Chelem Lagoon, Rosada Lagon and Yucatan Coast. DISCUSSION Environmental Parameters Celestun lagoon showed a salinity gradient from marine conditions to almost freshwater, because of the freshwater seeps located in the inner zone. On contrast, Lagartos Lagoon has a negative salinity gradient with values near 100 in the inner zone (Vega-Cendejas & Hernández de S., 2004; Peralta & Vega-Cendejas, 2011). Low salinity values recorded in Palmar indicate the great influence of groundwater discharges (via freshwater springs) for this area; fish species composition confirmed this statement. Electrical conductivity was significant different in this site with the others, which is related to decomposed organic matter (and low DO), suggesting the presence of large amounts of total dissolved salts (TDS), which come by freshwater seeps (Moore et al., 2008). Complimentary Contributor Copy 136 Ma. Eugenia Vega-Cendejas and Mirella Hernandez de S. Fish Structure and Assemblages Many commercial importance species in the area (Haemulon plumierii, Orthopristis chrysoptera, Cynoscion nebulosus, C. arenarius, Lutjanus spp., Calamus spp., E. gula, E. argenteus, among others) used the coastal area of Yucatan Sate for feeding, raising and shelter. Tough salinity gradients create physiological barriers for most species; it has been found that seasonally, the marine euryhaline component, like S. notata enter to these coastal systems taking advantage of the diverse food resources (Arceo & Vega-Cendejas, 2009). Many others use this environment as nursery such as mullets and gerrids (Rosada Lagoon), snappers, jacks and pompanos (Celestun, Bocas Dzilam). The small size recorded for most of the individuals indicates the importance of the seagrass meadows, prop root mangroves, and mudflat to grow and shelter against predators. Siemer et al. (2004) has mention that the high diversity registered in coastal systems, can be caused by the permanent communication of these areas with the sea, and the increase of habitat heterogeneity, favoring the colonization by different fish species. In this chapter we confirm this Statement because the particular karst attributes, increase the space of ecological niches, so the freshwater, estuarine and marine (euryhaline-stenohaline) components were found. Dominant species were related with hydrological and physiographical characteristics of each particular study site (Table 3). However all of them share most of the species, with the exception of El Palmar, which is a particular freshwater ecosystem where Characids (Astyanax spp.) were a dominant group and Rosada Lagoon for being a nursery site of gerrids and mullets. Characids and Rhambdia quelen (Heptapteridae) are primary freshwater species, i.e., those which have evolved in freshwater and cannot cross saltwater boundaries (LoweMcConnell, 1987). In Yucatan coast, Floridichthys polyommus, an endemic species was present and shared in all the study sites, but with great abundances in Rosada Lagoon (12.2%), Bocas Dzilam (5.0%), and Lagartos Lagoon. This topminnow has been reported as very tolerant to a wide salinity range (23 to 110), that gives it an adaptative advantage which is reflected by their high occurrence frequency throughout this hiperhaline system (VegaCendejas & Hernandez, 2004). Conservation Statements Due to the abundance of its fishery resources, tourism heritage and its value for biodiversity, Yucatan Peninsula is recognized for its great ecological and coastal potential (Capurro 2003). Its karstic nature and location in the Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean Sea are the principal factors that cause this biological richness. Its unique ecological and physiographic conditions favor the presence of a characteristic flora and fauna, some of them endemic and threatened (Gambusia yucatana yucatana, Poecilia velifera, Fundulus spp.), that uses coastal wetlands as critical habitats. The actual problem that exists in these coastal systems is related to the increase of productive activities, such as mangrove cutting, filling areas and fishing shrimp during the ―North‖ season with shrimp triangle. The use of this gear, extracts not only shrimp but also juvenile fish species of commercial value and small size with importance in the function of coastal ecosystems (Burgos-León et al., 2012). These impacts have as a consequence a decrease in the abundance of the populations of commercially important aquatic species. Complimentary Contributor Copy Estuarine and Coastal Fishes from Yucatan Peninsula 137 These effects of declining wealth and abundance of species, reflects a level of waterfall in a decrease of the trophic levels of food webs (Pauly et al., 1998). In this regard, it is necessary to regulate the mesh size of fishing gear used within the lagoons and coastal systems, as well as conducting multidisciplinary studies with management implications to assess ecological changes, and to evaluate the human and natural impact on ecosystem function. Other problem faced by these coastal systems is eutrophication, the quality of groundwater and wastewater inputs, which are discharged directly into coastal waters, including also other exogenous nutrient sources such as bird feces. This is a problematic that appears to be worsening due to hydrological modifications, land use changes and increasing human activities, including tourism. However, the status of Biosphere and Protected areas, acts as a buffer to maintain this biodiversity through species connectivity among protected and unprotected sites. The status of conservation on these areas is fundamental for biodiversity maintenance and for the understanding of function of each habitat, specially their effects on abundance, movement and growth of the associated fish fauna. Results in this chapter did not show significant differences of fish assemblages among Protected and Unprotected sites, so we consider that Yucatan coast is in good health condition. The information provided in this chapter constitutes a contribution to the knowledge of tropical biodiversity and to fish databases by habitat, which is fundamental as a management tool in fishery industry and ecotourism. Success of restoration and management strategies changes should be reflected in coastal fish communities in terms of the species composition, the size/age structure of fishes, and in fisheries. Finally it is considered that biodiversity integrated richness, composition and species evenness and provides a buffer against natural and human disturbances. The degree of buffering depends on the differential response of species to disturbance (Thebault & Loreau, 2006). ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We thank all the students and laboratory staff of Fish taxonomy and Ecology Laboratory of CINVESTAV-IPN. This work would not have been done without the enthusiasm and dedication of each of them for the study of fish communities. Many persons have contributed to fish acknowledgement of Yucatan coast; among them we thank Daniel Arceo, Miguel Peralta, Aretha Burgos, Sonia Palacios, Alicia Poot, Alex Acosta, Domingo, Karla Vargas, Walter Canto and Blanqueto for their passion and effort in the study of this biotic component. REFERENCES Arceo-Carranza, D. & M. E. Vega-Cendejas. (2009). 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Spatial and temporal structure of fish assemblages in an ―inverse estuary‖, the Sine Saloum system (Senegal). Estuarine Coastal and Shelf Science. 59: 69-86. Southworth, C. S. (1984). Structural and hydrogeologic applications of remote sensing data, eastern Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico. Pp. 59-64. In: Beck, N. (Ed). Sinkholes: Their Geology, Engineering and Environmental Impact. Proceedings 1st. Multi-disciplinary Conference on Sinkholes, Orlando, Fl. Theabult, E. & M. Loreau. (2006). The relationship between biodiversity and ecosystem functioning in food webs. Ecological Research 21: 17-25. Valdés D. & E. Real. (1998). Variations and relationships of salinity, nutrients and suspended solids in Chelem coastal lagoon at Yucatan, México. Indian Journal of Marine Sciences. 27: 149-156. Vega-Cendejas, M. E. (2004). Ictiofauna de la Reserva de la Biosfera Celestun, Yucatán: Una contribución al conocimiento de su biodiversidad. Serie Zoología de los Anales del Instituto de Biología de la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. 75 (1): 193-206. Vega-Cendejas, M. E. y Hernández de S. M. (2004). Fish community structure and dynamics in a coastal hypersaline lagoon: Ria Lagartos, Yucatan, México. Estuarine, Coastal and Shelf Science. 60, 285-299. Villasuso, M. J. & Méndez R. R. (2000). A Conceptual Model of the Aquifer of the Yucatan Peninsula. In: Socioecological Regions of the Yucatan Peninsula. Population, Development, and Environment on the Yucatan Peninsula: From Ancient Maya to 2030. Whitfield, A. K. 1999. Ichthyofaunal assemblages in estuaries: A South African case study. Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries 9, 151-186. Complimentary Contributor Copy Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 6 PUSHING MEXICO TO A RECYCLING CULTURE José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona Universidad Autónoma de Tlaxcala and Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, Mexico ABSTRACT This paper attempts to answer the question: How to encourage a recycle culture in Mexico? Compulsive consumption and the type of industrial production that predominates on today's society are the root of the problem of waste. The lack of adequate laws and standards, and corruption practices make this problem especially stubborn. Mexican society is immersed in the global phenomenon of excessive consumption and an anthropocentric belief system. The lack of investment and incentives from the Federal Government prevent the integration of appropriate actions and discourage the creation of companies dedicated to waste management; these companies also have to deal with factors such as labor unions, taxes and unfair competition. In the social sector, there have been several unsuccessful attempts to induce the separation of waste at homes. Nevertheless, the willingness of many people to take actions individually or communally inside organizations, cooperatives, NGOs, and companies can be observed; but it is necessary to integrate the isolated efforts involving major social, health, technological, environmental, and economic aspects. Thus, municipalities must form inter-municipal societies; entrepreneurs should incorporate recyclers in environmental utility companies; integrated social groups should monitor the government to issue laws that take care of the environment and not be subject to economic interests; and, highprofile professionals and scientists could be incorporated into community enterprises, inter-municipal projects, strategic R&D in renewable energy, and education. Furthermore, Mexico requires a change in paradigm to grow ecocentric-educated individuals with pro-environmental habits and customs. Keywords: Mexico, recycling culture, consumption, environmental legislation, waste management, sustainability  [email protected], [email protected]. Complimentary Contributor Copy 142 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona INTRODUCTION Mexico has an area of 1,964,375 km2 (INEGI, 2010), and due its prolific nature and diverse ecosystems, is the fourth most bio-diverse country in the world, being home to more species of mammals than any country in Central America (Mexico, 2012). The Mexican population in 2012 was 117,053,750, of which 48.8% were male and 51.2% were female (CTESIODM, 2013). In Mexico there are high levels of poverty and inequality with high growth in certain sectors (multinational banks, television, and tourism) and intensive exploitation of raw materials (oil, minerals and gas). In addition, there are chaotic urbanization and privatization processes associated with corrupt practices and unsustainable tourism and mining development. These have produced one of the most unequal societies, where economic growth is highly concentrated. The World Bank analyzed this with a Gini index (a Gini index of 0 represents perfect equality, while an index of 100 represents perfect inequality) Chile (52) and Mexico (47) (World Bank, 2013) have the highest rates of income inequality and lower school performance among countries belonging to the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), and this has increased tensions between groups and social classes. In Mexico, 77.8% of the population lives in urban areas and 53.8% lives in metropolitan areas, where water is consumed with very low levels of supply and treatment (Oswald Spring, 2014). In Mexico, the problem of solid waste increases in rural areas and medium-sized cities, but has become a real threat to safety, health and environment in large cities and metropolitan zones due to industrial growth, high consumption pattern of the population, and lack of adequate services, among other causes. Thirty years ago, municipal waste was mainly organic and readily biodegradable, now the waste stream becomes increasingly dominated by substances that are not easily degradable (glass, plastic and other packaging). According to the report "Sustainable Innovation and Technology Transfer", prepared by the United Nations Program for Environment, most of the country's 2,443 municipalities lack legal, financial or human resources for treatment of municipal solid waste (UNEP, 2009). One of the best options for residues management is recycling. Recycling is a process of recovery of raw materials that is economically more attractive than mining and exploitation of natural resources, recycling is labor-intensive, providing a high employment rate, is environmentally friendlier than the containment of waste underground, and it reduces emissions of greenhouse gases 25 times more than incineration. The cost of reducing CO2 emissions through recycling is 30% less than doing so through increased energy efficiency, and 90% less than by using wind power (WIEGO, 2013). However, Mexico has a very low recycling rate. Clearly, it is important to focus on the future of waste management in Mexico with interdisciplinary strategies that include socioeconomic, environmental, and technological aspects in order to find alternatives that avoid environmental problems associated with these materials buried in landfills. This chapter discusses the Mexican situation in recycling from a general point of view and in particular on the environmental, economic, political and social aspects. The content of this chapter is detailed as follows. In the first section the problem of solid waste in Mexico is addressed from the aspects of generation amounts, sources, disposal forms, types and forms of recycling, environmental Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 143 problems involved and, finally, laws and regulations governing the management of solid waste in Mexico. In the second section, the efforts currently being made to increase the rate of recycling of solid waste and to solve problems arising from the management of these are discussed. The three involved sectors of Mexican society (government, private sector and society) are taken into account. In every case success stories are discussed. An additional section about research and development provides a vision of the future. In the third section, the anthropological and social attitude of Mexican people with respect to recycling is addressed. The analysis begins by reviewing the common practices of the population in themes such as water conservation and waste separation. Subsequently, some attempts to introduce recycling practices and their results are discussed in light of the influence of the consumer society and the anthropocentric view of the average Mexican. The fourth section is devoted to the garbage scavengers‘ or pepenadores due to their abundance and importance in the search of every possible solution. This section analyzes how this group arose as a result of social and economic pitfalls in the solid waste management system; how they are affected by harmful practices such as corporatism and political interests and what is the impact of their activities in the environment. Finally, the sixth section reviews possible solutions to improve the management of solid waste and boost the recycling culture in Mexico under the theme of sustainable development. This section begins with a review of the most urgent change proposal in legislation these authors and others have made to introduce sustainable practices. Subsequently, the necessary inclusion of garbage scavengers and other groups like women and high-level professionals at different levels of residues stream is described. At the end of this section, a new paradigm in education and the promotion of research and technological development are emphasized to complete a new Mexican model for sustainable management of solid waste. MUNICIPAL SOLID WASTE AND RECYCLING IN MEXICO Municipal Solid Waste (MSW) is defined by the Secretary of Environment and Natural Resources (SEMARNAT) as residues generated from the disposal of materials used in domestic activities, the products consumed and their containers, wrapping or packaging; residues from any other activity within establishments or in the street generating waste with household characteristics, and residues resulting from the cleaning of the streets and public places, provided that they are not considered by the law to be another category of waste (SEMARNAT, 2010). In Mexico, regulations concerning the handling and final disposal of solid waste are in the hands of the states and municipalities. The federal government, through the National Institute of Ecology and Climate Change (INACC), can promote coordination and agreement with these levels of government to develop and improve collection, recycling, and final treatment of MSW. A review of the regulatory framework of residues in Mexico, immediately leads one to realize how weak and outdated it is, with the large regulatory gaps. The waste management has focused on one aspect: elimination through dumps, landfills and incinerators, hiding the problem without solving it, causing serious environmental impacts and damage to the health of people. This includes marked landscape impacts. Once deposited Complimentary Contributor Copy 144 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona in landfills, waste decomposition leads to the emission of thousands of chemical compounds; the acidification process resulting from biological degradation causes the migration of hazardous substances, and frequently these methods of disposal cause environmental pollution in air, soil and water (Greenpeace, 2014). The OECD Pollution Prevention Group promoted a study indicating that the large volume of municipal solid waste generated is composed mainly of goods and packing discarded by consumers, which are produced by industrial processing activities that transform raw materials into goods and packaging; and these raw materials are obtained by extraction processes (mining, oil, timber, etc.) that generates additional pollution (OCDE, 2000). The same study indicated that recycling has considerably increased in most industrialized OECD countries (due to rigorous laws that promote waste minimization), but the volume of municipal waste is growing in all of them. Among the causes are: population growth; increased purchasing power (expressed as generation of Gross Domestic Product, GDP, per capita); emerging technologies (expressed as levels of industrial investment and advanced technology incorporated in the industry); and failure to internalize the real costs caused by the handling of waste by generators (expressed by the absence or inadequacy of payment for the services of waste management). Some estimates suggest that only about 30 to 70% of the waste generated in the cities of developing countries is collected for confinement. As a result, the non-collected waste is mostly disposed in open dumps, on the streets or in bodies of water (Ezeah, Fazakerley, & Roberts, 2013). Due to the facts mentioned above and given that the information comes from heterogeneous non-validated sources, it is also virtually impossible to establish reliable accurate values of the amount of MSW generated in Mexico. There are large differences between the official data from the Mexican government and that reported by nongovernmental sources (Buenrostro & Bocco, 2003). In Table 1, data from different sources that estimated total MSW generated in Mexico in the year 2010 are presented. These data are based on the population census of INEGI (National Institute of Statistics, Geography and Informatics), the Municipal and National Census, also conducted in 2010, and data published by the Ministry of Social Development (SEDESOL) as established by the Mexican standard NMX-AA-61-1985 about Determination of Solid Waste Generation. The average value of 37.06 million tons obtained with this exercise is higher than the INEGI population census of MSW in 2010, and the standard deviation of 3.55 million tons, is fairly representative of the differences usually found in MSW generation. With respect to MSW per capita, the average value of 866.01 g per day, with a deviation of 111.18 g, has much more variation throughout the country. The composition of the waste originating from households is not uniform; it changes according to consumer, social position and region. It has been estimated that MSW generation ranges from 400 g in rural areas, up to about 1.5 kg in metropolitan areas (OECD, 2013). In terms of composition, MSW has changed significantly in recent decades in the country. In general, the composition depends, among other factors, on the consumption patterns of the population: low income countries produce less waste, within which the organic nature dominates. In higher income countries, the residues are mostly inorganic from manufactured goods and with a higher percentage of products and wastes. Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 145 Table 1. Municipal Solid Waste generated in Mexico in 2010, reported by different sources Total MSW Millions of tons Daily MSW MSW per capita tons g/day Bernache Pérez, 2011 38.80 107849.80 INEGI, 2011 31.50 86343.00 770.00 2014 Gutierrez Avedoy, et al., 2012 37.60 102984.96 852.00 2012 SEMARNAT, 2013 41.10 112500.00 990.00 2013 Based on 2010 INEGI population census Based on Municipal and Delegational National Census 2010 Based on diagnostic made by State and Municipal Programs for Prevention and Integral Management of Residues (PEyMPGIR), using 1144 municipalities‘ data (46.56% of the total). Based on SEDESOL data as established by Mexican standard NMX-AA-61-1985 Greenpeace, 2014 37.00 100000.00 2014 Own resources average 37.06 101530.04 866.01 std. deviation 3.55 9931.78 111.18 Reference Year published 2011 Comments The case of Mexico illustrates the transformation between the two types of economies: in the 1950s, the percentage of organic waste in the trash ranged between 65 and 70% by volume, by 2012 this figure dropped to 52.4% (SEMARNAT, 2013). Figure 1, shows the composition of MSW based on SEMARNAT data (2013). SEMARNAT officially recognizes two types of disposal sites: landfills and landcontrolled dumps. Landfills are better solution for the disposal of municipal solid waste; this type of infrastructure involving specific methods and engineering basically controls the leakage of leachate and biogas generation. In contrast, land controlled dumps, while sharing specifications of landfills in terms of infrastructure and operation, do not meet the specifications for waterproofing leachate (SEMARNAT, 2013). (Figure 1) It is interesting to observe the historical behavior of MSW generation in the country compares with GDP, because waste is generally considered as an inherent externality of economic growth. Also, it is representative of the evolution of environmental policies since there is a difference between the MSW generated and collected. Due to the short-range services waste collection and the costs of proper disposal, there are a large number of illegal dumps in ravines and vacant lots across the country (Ojeda Benítez & Beraud-Lozano, 2003). Therefore, the total amount of municipal solid waste is not confined in landfills and land controlled dumps. Figure 2 shows in a single graph all of these data. From this plot, the difference between MSW generated and recollected is apparent; although the gap is narrowing, especially from GDP growth in 2009. In 2011 it was estimated that 72% of the volume of MSW generated in the country was placed in landfills and controlled sites, 23% was deposited in not controlled sites and the remaining 5% was recycled (SEMARNAT, 2013). (Figure 2) Complimentary Contributor Copy 146 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona Figure 1. Composition of MSW in Mexico in 2012. Source: SEMARNAT (2013). Figure 2. Historical trend of MSW generation in Mexico, its management, its final destination, and GDP as a measure of economic growth. Key: ■ Total MSW generated; ● Recollected; ▲ Recycled; ▼ Confined; ♦ Controlled Landfills; ◄ Uncontrolled Landfills. Source: data of General Directorate of Equipment and Infrastructure in Marginalized-Urban Areas, SEDESOL. Mexico. (2012). Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 147 Figure 2 also shows how, since 2009, the amount of MSW confined increases and the amount of MSW in uncontrolled landfills decreases. Although the volume of MSW that is recycled in the country has increased in recent years, it is still low. According to figures from the disposal sites in 2011, 4.8% of the total generated was recycled; however, this figure may reach 10% given that a considerable amount of recyclable material from MSW is collected before reaching disposal sites, both in containers and collection vehicles (Buenrostro & Bocco, 2003). Moreover, this percentage may reach 12% if we consider other forms of collection that are part of the scavenging activity, which contributes to informal self-employment, but not to the economic benefit of municipalities (CONAPO, 2009). Recycling in Mexico has had a breakthrough thanks to the increase in the recovery of some types of recyclable material, especially PET (polyethylene terephthalate), aluminum, and copper; and other materials for which recycling technologies are now available. For example, multilayer packaging (tetrapacks) recycling grew from 0 to 11% in recent years. Other materials (such as hard plastic) with a high demand for manufacturing plastimadera show a recycling rate of 2%; while the soft plastic used in grocery bags is reused in the same rate (Hernández, 2014). Figure 3. Tracking historical quantities (tons) of some recyclable products in Mexico. Logarithmic scale. Key: ■ Total MSW recycled; ● Paper & cardboard; ▲ Textiles; ▼ Plastics; ♦ Foods & garden residues; ◄ Glass; ► Metals (ferrous & non-ferrous); □ others (diapers, etc.). Source: National Plastic Industries Association (ANIPAC). In Figure 3, the sudden increase in the amounts of recycled plastics in 2003 and 2009 is evident; while metals show a sustained increase in recycling rates from 2003. In the current Complimentary Contributor Copy 148 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona context, those residues having a stable market linked to the recycling chain are: paper, cardboard, PET, glass and metals. Tetrapacks and wood are emerging recyclable residues, but the market for these is not yet consolidated (Avilez Flores, Melendez Gonzalez, Rivas Ramirez, & Rivera Franco, 2012). The Mexican market for bottled water and soft drinks has grown significantly; over 6,000 million gallons of drinks sold each year. A few decades ago, glass bottles were used; currently, PET is the most common material used for this purpose (Romero-Hernández et al., 2009). This, along with the increased commodity market resale have made the recycling of PET in Mexico highly lucrative. Price for used PET bottles increased from 0.70 Mexican pesos (MXN) per Kg in 2004 up to 4.50/Kg MXN in 2010. However, the price paid to the PET waste pickers‘ is 2.50/Kg MXN on average (Schwanse, 2011). Aluminum cans recycling rates is also driven by industrial demand for the material rather than for environmental concern, given that these residues are scavenged from streets mostly by pickers that respond to economic necessity. Therefore even in the absence of recycling programs and environmental regulations, a high recycling rate would occur if the price paid for the material is compelling enough for people to gather it (Martin Medina, 1998). Paper and cardboard are recoverable residues with an attractive economic value. The domestic paper industry has invested over a billion dollars to develop a market for secondary fibers, recovering from 355,000 tons in 1970 to 3.2 million tons in 2010 (CNICP, 2012). RECYCLING EFFORTS IN MEXICO This section describes the actions that are implemented from the different sectors of Mexican society to increase recycling rates, either for economic reasons or concern about environmental impact and climate change. Efforts from Government Sector The Mexican government´s main challenge in the coming years is to maintain economic growth to improve the standard of living of the population, while ensuring sustainable use of natural resources and environmental services (CTESIODM, 2013). To achieve these goals, the Mexican government has to implement public policies and laws, make constitutional reforms and legislation, and attend international treaties. Public policies and laws. The legal basis for the management of MSW in Mexico is Article 115 of the Political Constitution of the Mexican United States, which states that it is the right of municipal authorities to provide urban cleaning services. However, it is a purely sanitation approach, since what is sought to prevent are the problems caused by poor hygiene practices, which involve the risk of epidemics by proliferation of vermin in landfills or the places where garbage is thrown (Cortinas de Nava, 2001). Therefore, in January 1988 the General Law of Ecological Equilibrium and Environmental Protection (LGEEPA) was enacted, which established the concurrence of the levels of government in environmental matters, leaving to the states and municipalities the attention of those matters that were not expressly reserved to the federal order. This Law Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 149 reserved for the Federation regulating activities related to hazardous waste and thus drew a distinction between hazardous and non-hazardous waste, attributing jurisdiction over the latter to local authorities. In 1999, amendments to the Ecology law were made, which empowered the States to regulate collection systems, transportation, storage, handling, treatment and final disposal of solid and industrial wastes that were not considered dangerous and the municipalities to apply those provisions. Latter, in 2003, the General Law for the Prevention and Management of Waste (LGPGIR) was approved. This law assumes some of the provisions previously established in the LGEEPA Law and expressly noted the Federal, States and municipalities jurisdiction. In accordance with the provisions of LGPGIR law, there are three types of waste: municipal solid waste (MSW), defined above in section 1; Hazardous Residues (RP), and Special Management Residues (RME). Municipal, States and Federal Government have to deal with the integrated management of approximately 37 million tons/year of MSW; 84 million tons/year of 14 Special Management Residues (RME) waste streams; 805,000 vehicles/year at the end of useful life; and, 1.9 million tons/year of Hazardous Residues (RP) generated in Mexico amongst others types of residues (Gutiérrez Avedoy, Ramírez Hernández, Encarnación Aguilar, & Medina Arévalo, 2012). Under this legislation, all major generators (defined by stream generation greater than 10 tons/year) are required to present their own waste management plan. This general law also defines the ―Shared Responsibility‖ (RC) (LGPGIR: Article 5, XXXIV) between producers, exporters, importers, distributors and sellers who need to develop a waste management master plan defining how the waste will be reduced, separated and collected. Unlike the ―Extended Producer Responsibility‖ (EPR), the RC does not assign responsibilities and tasks for each individual participant in the life cycle of a product. To the regulation on the prevention and management of residues mentioned above, other regulatory dispositions and the issuance of instruments like environmental standards (known as Mexican Official Standards, NOM) are added. Furthermore, between 1993 and 2006 more than 20 NOM‘s involved in the classification, management and final disposition of residues have been published (González Rodríguez, 2012). Law reforms and legislative work. LGPGIR have serious legal inconsistencies regarding the regulation of residues in the federal states, where more emphasis has been put on the regulation and administration of sanitary services than in the overall safe and environmentally sound management of residues (González Rodríguez, 2012). For this reason, reforms to the existing laws and additional regulations have been developed. In 2003, the NOM-083-SEMARNAT-2003 standard was enacted to regulate the conditions of construction, operation, monitoring and closure of landfills. It is a legal requirement for the 2435 Mexican municipalities, which are the legal owners of MSW collected or confined and responsible for its management. Due to the high cost of landfills and their operation, some municipal authorities seek to reduce MSW generation and disposal through separation programs (Schwanse, 2011). The National Program for the Prevention and Integral Management of Residues 2009-2012 (PNPGIR) was presented in 2007 as a strategy to achieve integrated waste management and to develop a general program for management in Mexico. The program aims to promote integrated management involving administrative and operational modernization of collection systems and final disposal, supported by modern technologies based on application of the 3R Complimentary Contributor Copy 150 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona philosophy (Reduce, Reuse and Recycle) with regional participation of society. This philosophy implies the establishment of an environmental residues policy based on the promotion of changes in patterns of consumption and production, including minimization of generation, residues separation at source, reuse and recycling, economical valorization and energy recovery; with final disposal of waste as a last option. The above processes are through integrated management systems and schemes of shared responsibilities (RC) common for all, but differentiated for different sectors of the society, with environmentally sound actions that are technically feasible, economically viable and socially acceptable (Gutiérrez Avedoy et al., 2012). Of course, there are still many issues that require the adaptation and creation of standards (NOMs) to regulate and control residues hitherto considered safe, such as used battery and compact fluorescent lamps (CFL), or becoming present in the waste streams due to technological innovation, such as cell phones and electronic waste in general. Environmental pollution caused by the disposal of used cells should be of major concern in Mexico due to rapid growth in demand for portable electronic equipment using these as a source of energy and, in the absence of recycling, yields thousands of tons of hazardous waste per year. According to the National Institute of Ecology and Climate Change (INECC) in Mexico cells and batteries provide 93% of total Hg content in the trash, 47% zinc, 48% of cadmium and 22% nickel. In absolute terms, between 1960 and 2003, 189.382 tons of the following metals generated by used cells and batteries are calculated: 1,232 tons of Hg; 20,168.8 tons of cadmium; 22,063 tons of nickel; 14.5918 tons of manganese oxide (MnO2); and, 77.3 tons of lithium (Castro Díaz & Díaz Arias, 2004). This situation has not improved since cell phones and battery consumption is increasing; in 1996 the estimated annual a per capita consumption was 5.2 cells, which grew to 7.0 cells/capita in 2002, and with a strong increase to 12.6 cells/capita in 2007 (Gavilán García, Rojas Bracho, & Barrera Cordero, 2009). This results in a burden of metals for the inner soil layers in most of the landfills where they have been deposited, which in turn could contaminate aquifers and presenting a risk for human health (Montiel Corona, Guevara García, Reyes López, & Landry, 2012). In 2006, the environment legislative of the Federal Chamber of Deputies released the proposed Mexican standard NMX-AA-104-SCFI-2006 for cells. However, the analysis of this standard had serious shortcomings compared to the European standard: this NOM allowed a content 20, 7.5 and 5 times higher in mercury, cadmium and lead, respectively, for legally marketed batteries than the ones sold in the European Union. Virtually all cells trademarks could meet the NOM with no restriction for discarding legally marketed cells in landfills, although there appears to be no significant difference between formal and informal marked cells in the composition of toxic metals (Guevara-García & Montiel-Corona, 2012). In early 2013, the NMX-AA-104-SCFI-2006 project was completely discarded and only an addition was made to the LGPGIR Law, changing the classification of such residues from MSW to RME (Comisión de Medio Ambiente y Recursos Naturales, 2013). The Mexican government is conducting a program to replace incandescent lamps (LI) with CFL in the residential sector, seeking to supply between 20 and 45 million CFL in a period of three years. In Mexico the CFL that have completed their useful life, are classified as RP, therefore handling and disposal requires the establishment of specific and safe procedures. However Mexico in the country there is no market for recycling these residues and there is only one company registered in SEMARNAT. A strategy is necessary to promote Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 151 the creation of the recycling market for the waste stream of these residues (Andrade Salaverría, 2010). In addition, the massive introduction of CFL has not been accompanied by corresponding regulatory actions and recommendations for safe use. Although the energy saving characteristics of CFL is very important, greater attention should be given to potential mercury contamination. Use of CFL without consumer education and established recycling procedures, as well as waste electric and electronic equipment (WEEE) raises issues about the flow of mercury and other materials into uncontrolled landfills and at homes (GuevaraGarcía, Montiel-Corona, & Landry, 2012). Mexico is the second largest electronics market in Latin America. It is projected that by 2014, Mexico will produce 687,765 tons of electronic waste counting only personal computers, TV sets, mobile phones, sound sets, video equipment, and cordless home phones (Gavilán-García, Cedillo-Becerril, Roman-Moguel, & Santos-Santos, 2010). LGPGIR defines in Article 19 that WEEE are classified into the RME residues, therefore these require only a "management plan". The situation in Mexico with respect to mercury is contradictory because although regulatory provisions limit mercury emissions to air and water and control the disposal of waste containing mercury, the element has not been regulated as a marketable product and the government has done little to inform people about mercury exposure and reducing risks. During the period from 2001 to 2007, Mexico produced 81.25 tons, imported 193.46 tons and exported 58.25 tons of mercury. These balance accounts for an apparent input of 216.46 tons during this period, or 30.86 tons per year on average. There are also primary production, albeit on a small scale and not officially recognized, so this has not yet been quantified (Castro-Díaz, 2011). With respect to used tires, European countries such as Germany, France, and Austria recycle up to 60% percent, while in Mexico there is virtually no such recycling due to poor environmental awareness with an almost nonexistent control system nor mechanisms necessary for the proper treatment/recovery of tires out of use (NFU). An estimated 91% of the 28.5 million NFU that are discarded annually in Mexico, are discarded in rivers, vacant lots, and roads. This careless practice has ruined landscapes and becomes a fire risk factor. In 2003, a total of 280 million NFU were generated in USA, 80% of them were recycled and the remaining 56 million were deposited in USA and Mexico. Worn tires and NFU are piled in large batches distributed in northern Mexico, while others are collected by the so-called ―tire jockeys‖ and illegally deposited in dumps of border cities like Ciudad Juarez, Reynosa and Laredo piles with millions of scrap tires have been reported (Álvarez Medina, 2004). Only from June 6, 2014, used tires have been considered as RME, and their manufacturers, importers, and distributors are now obliged to take over the management of used tires and ensure collection as determined by the official Mexican standard and appropriate management plans. Thus, it was established by law that NFU disposal is prohibited in vacant lots, ravines, gullies, drainage and sewerage pipelines in water bodies and underground cavities (DOF, 2014). International agreements. Mexico is party to agreements on Biodiversity, Climate Change, Climate Change-Kyoto Protocol, Desertification, Endangered Species, Hazardous Wastes, Law of the Sea, Marine Dumping, Marine Life Conservation, Ozone Layer Protection, Ship Pollution, Wetlands, and Whaling (Mexico 2012). Mexico's trade regime is built upon 13 trade agreements with 44 countries, including the United States, Canada, and Complimentary Contributor Copy 152 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona the European Union. Trade matters are generally settled through direct negotiations between two countries or addressed via World Trade Organization (WTO) or North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) formal dispute settlement procedures. Mexico is an active and constructive member of the World Trade Organization, the G-20, and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development. Mexico's government is committed to continue emphasizing the use of indicators and quantified targets in the development of international environmental strategies oriented to evaluate progress in the implementation of multilateral environmental agreements. Mexico has also generated reports with respect to the Millennium Development Goals (CTESIODM, 2013). Goal 7 of the Millennium Development Goals in Mexico is to: ensure environmental sustainability, Goal 7.A is to integrate the principles of sustainable development into country policies and programs and reverse the loss of environmental resources. According to estimates made by INEGI, the economic cost associated with the depletion of natural resources and environmental degradation -which is a measure of wear of the natural capitalreached an annual average of 7% of the GDP in 2008; in 2011 it accounted for more than $983 billion dollars, i.e., 6.86% of GDP. This amount markedly contrasts with the spending on environmental protection for the same year only 0.9% of GDP (CTESIODM, 2013). The NAFTA has sometimes brought higher standards of environmental performance due to the influence of multinational firms operating under their own rules. The Mexican environmental market has significantly increased its activity since 1995, but imports have shifted the development of Mexican industry. In general terms, NAFTA has not caused proportionally more pollution in Mexico (Ferrier, 2010). However, there are inherent risks in this treaty; for example NAFTA permits the importation of vehicles from the U.S. and Canada. In 2009, vehicles ten years or older could be imported, but the restrictions are lifted gradually, until 2019, all kinds of vehicles may be imported. This will represent a dramatic increase in the number of vehicles in Mexico and resulting serious recycling problem of end of life vehicles (ELV). Therefore, the coordination and cooperation between the car registration system and ELV recycling system should be established to promote sound recycling of ELV under the concept of the three R‘s (Sakai et al., 2014). Another NAFTA topic of risk is electronic waste. The electronics sector, particularly the computer industry, has become a growing concern due to the environmental impact of its products throughout their life cycle. Due to rapid obsolescence and difficult confinement, with waste often containing dangerous substances, special efforts and technical innovation are required. The industry of electronics/electrical equipment industry in Mexico has grown considerably in the last decade. Between 1992 and 2001, exports of electronic products to the USA quintupled in value. The boom was due to a flow of investment from Japan and the Korea Republic intended to evade import tariffs on Asian products imposed by the USA (Guevara-García et al., 2012). The NOM-052-ECOL-1993 standard states that hazardous waste generated during the production process within the maquiladora (assembly plant) production regime must be returned to the country of origin. In 1996, the maquiladora industry in Mexico produced approximately 60,000 tons of RME waste, of which 60% returned to the USA, which was the country of origin. Only 12% was placed in controlled landfills in Mexico; for the remaining 28%, the method of disposal was not known. In recent years, the trend has been to reduce Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 153 plant inspectors. Thus, while in 1995 inspectors‘ coverage reached 46%; in 2001 coverage fell to 21% and in 2010, it was only 15% (Guevara-García et al., 2012). Schatan and Castilleja (2007) conducted a study of 200 maquiladoras in the Mexico-USA border, and found that almost half of them (in Tijuana, Juarez and Mexicali) had not implemented an environmental policy, and there was a limited requirement for compliance. It was concluded that environmental protection is not a priority of some of the subsidiaries of transnational corporations present in Mexico. However, this cannot be generalized, in the case of auto parts, some studies suggested that an increase in environmental policy is visible in Mexico as a result of rising consciousness of pollution problems and Mexico's higher international profile (Muller & Kolk, 2009). A very dynamic trade of used products is observed between USA and Mexico. Unfortunately, data on this is scarce, mainly due to the special characteristics of this activity (import, reconstructed, resale), informality, and the small size and the large number of companies involved. Only recently, Estrada-Ayub and Kahhat (2014), conducted a survey about the commerce of electronic residues in the northern part of Mexico. They found that in cities like Juarez and Nogales, formal collectors experienced in handling the electronic waste coming from international companies provide the service of WEEE collection to the public. Between them, 0.15 million cathode ray tubes (CRT) are recycled domestically, and 0.190.72 million CRT are exported. Other materials such as plastic, glass and lead are difficult to trade. This was confirmed by interviews in Monterrey, which indicated that the plastic from computers must be stored to transport for recycling. This is also a common feature of valuable metals. Most systems are moved by the profit; therefore, any material that has no market value will be sent to the landfill. On February 1, 2013, enforcement began of the Mexican Standard NOM161-SEMARNAT-2011. This rule states that the special handling of these wastes requires a management plan. The purpose of these plans is to ensure proper environmental handling as well as to provide economic benefits from recycling through the recovery of valuable components. Most of the respondents believed that fees would increase the possibility that the equipment would be illegally discarded to avoid paying fees (EstradaAyub & Kahhat, 2014). Estrada-Ayub and Kahhat (2014) also affirm that the NOM alone does not solve the problem of waste generated before regulation and also promotes illegal confinement Most OECD countries and a number of developing countries have faced pressure from pollution by putting in practice environmental quality standards and effluent limits/emissions. There are a number of conventions that legally consolidate these standards at regional and international levels. Mexico is committed to increase recycling rates for end of life ferrous, nonferrous and precious metals, to near 100% and special metals to about 25%, minimizing the use of energy and environmental impacts through the recycling (UNEP, 2014). Some other international agreements concerning persistent organic pollutants, used lead acid batteries (ULAB) and cathode ray tubes (CRT) are discussed elsewhere (Guevara-García et al., 2012). There is also a major agreement about Environmental legislation between Canada, USA and Mexico within the framework of the Environmental Cooperation of North America (CCA) that can be consulted elsewhere (CEC, 2011). Legislative advances in D.F. and the states. Of the 32 federal states, MSW selective collection activities are made in only 13, the remaining still use mixed collection, representing 9.11% and 74.82%, respectively of the MSW generated in the country. It is also known that 4.24% of the collected MSW comes from industrial activities. The remaining Complimentary Contributor Copy 154 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona 12.03% is not collected, which means 12,172 tons per day. According to results of the National Census of INEGI (2012), the states with the highest percentage of separate collection of MSW are: Querétaro with 57%, Jalisco with 40% (which has a standard for the separation of waste at source) and Nuevo León with 30% (Gutiérrez Avedoy et al., 2012). Regarding the number of projects, INEGI reported 117 supported projects in the year 2009, 252 for the year 2010, 342 in 2011, and 231 in 2012, giving a total of 942 projects supported during the period 2009-2012. The cost of these projects was 1,995 million MXN. 46% was allocated to collection system and equipment for landfill, 15% for landfill construction, 14% for the preparation of studies and 11% for the remediation and closure of disposal sites (including open-air dumpsites) (Gutiérrez Avedoy et al., 2012). In February 2012 four landfills were opened in the state of Mexico, located in Ixtapaluca, Cuautitlan, Xonacatlán and Tecamac. Before reaching landfills, transfer stations separate trash into organic and inorganic material. Organic material is composted for material regenerate green areas such as parks and gardens. In addition, producing biogas with compost is an objective. Among the inorganic solid wastes are materials with value, such as paper, cardboard, aluminum, iron, copper, glass, cloth, polyethylene containers, tires, cotton, rubber, leather, wood, ceramic and electronic products. Used tires are used as fuel in blast furnaces (Mondragón, 2012). The Government of the D.F. created the Recycling Center and Integral Energy (CIRE) to separate trash and industrialize, but was insufficient for the 12,000 tons generated daily. Tlalnepantla, Coacalco, Tecámac, and Nezahualcoyotl, all from the State of Mexico, are municipalities that have developed a good solid waste management with broad participation of recyclers. These councils have made recycling programs in schools that promote waste separation. Regional initiatives such as the kilometer plastic, paper, or glass, had good results (Hernández, 2014). The state of Yucatán has one of the most advanced environmental legislation frameworks. In 2005 a new regulation required all houses and citizens of the City of Merida to separate their trash, imposing fines on those who throw trash in the street or in nondesignated sites. To avoid saturation of landfills and costs associated with its operation, the municipal department of ecology has designed a strategy based on reducing the volume of waste confined through recovery and recycling. For this purpose, regulation is established containing the following main points (Maldonado, 2006): 1. Separation of waste into three categories is obligatory: sanitary waste, organic, inorganic. 2. Collection services providers have defined responsibilities, and the City is required to hire the service of collection. PRIVATE RECYCLING INITIATIVES Companies with activities related or concerned with recycling are incorporated to National Recyclers Institute (INARE). Among these, Coca-Cola investments in the field of recycling of PET are notable. Recycled PET (R-PET) material is now used for a variety of applications: bottles, packaging food, fibers for toiletries, raw material to manufacture textiles Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 155 used in sportswear, among other uses. Plastic used on the wrappers of sweets or snacks, is also recycled to make boxes or packages that have contact with food, among other uses. Another INARE member, the company Vitro, has been recognized by Mexican authorities as a role model for glass recycling. The Environmental Vitro System will be taken as a model of environmental stewardship for industry in Mexico by PROFEPA. Vitro has four plants which processed in 2001 around 134,000 tons, 24% of the recycled glass called ―cullet‖ that is processed in Mexico each year (Salomón, 2003). A condensed survey of other companies associated with Unare is as follow:     Biodiesel Moreco, a company dedicated to the collection of plant and animal fats used for conversion to biodiesel. Cadena de Valor Sustentable, a company that creates initiatives of separation, collection and recycling of MSW in educational centers, business and commercial institutions. Ecofrigo, a company where the collection, recovery, recycling and destruction of household refrigerators and air conditioners, commercial and industrial is performed. HEATmx, company that manufactures machines for processing any virgin or recycled thermoplastic, which are converted to solid boards. Another national private association for recycling activities is ECOCE. It is a private nonprofit organization founded in 2002 whose objectives are environmental and administers a fund created by the associated companies. They support the first National Volunteer Management Plan (ACOPIO) for PET packaging waste coming from packaging companies that represents 61% of PET users. ECOCE is formed by 30 groups that include more than 60 brands of soda, carbonated water, purified water, spices and food. A complete catalog of the recycling companies can be consulted in the Directory of Hailing Waste Materials in Mexico, made by SEMARNAT, through the Secretariat for Development and Environmental Regulation based on the objectives set in the PNPGIR (SEMARNAT, 2010). Some other smaller companies with innovative recycling process include:    Dart, an unicel recycling company (Rodríguez, 2011), Plastimadera, a Gysapol group company that combines recycled plastic and wood for construction applications, Ecoladrillos, a company that invented and produces garbage waste bricks for construction (www.ecoladrillos.com). A medium- sized company, which has taken the leadership in WEEE recycling in Mexico is Recycle Electronics Mexico (Recicla Electrónicos México) (REMSA). A 100% Mexican company with trained personnel, patented processes and infrastructure to capture, collect, separate and recycle all materials generated from WEEE as are the monitor glass, plastic, electronic cards and metals (ferrous and nonferrous). It is also an example of green jobs in Mexico for trash workers, given that the staff has law benefits, proper safety equipment and good working conditions. Furthermore REMSA, incorporates innovative processes from R&D made in research centers like Centro de Complimentary Contributor Copy 156 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona Investigaciones de Materiales Avanzados (CIMAV), the Centro de Tecnología Avanzada (CIATEQ), and the Instituto de Estudios Superiores de Monterrey (ITESM). In 2012, The Federal Government distinguished REMSA with the national award for entrepreneurs in the subcategory of Green Company. Another enterprise that has introduced trash pickers into a formal company is ―El Paraíso‖ private landfill, in the suburbs of Queretaro City. This medium-sized landfill is also one of the rare cases in Mexico where the entry is permitted for researchers and students interested in the study of MSW management. The total composition of the input MSW that is processed in ―El Paraíso‖ is shown in Figure 4. Figure 4. Detailed composition of the MSW input in the landfill ―El Paraíso‖. Elaborated with data provided by management of the ―El Paraiso‖. This landfill offers a viable economic model of landfills in Mexico: small landfills operated by private initiative, with collection plant for recyclables, a relation factor workers/MSW of nearly one worker:1 MSW ton, those who work in residues separation are workers that formerly were street scavengers or pepenadores. Another positive aspect of this landfill is the high rate of separation, almost all recyclable material is scavenged in the bands, and part of the resulting waste stream that come out of the separation bands is utilized for composting. There are plans for the production of biogas. Additionally the processing plant has the capacity to introduce other recycle processes and products that could allow the use of almost all the MSW components in the future, drastically reducing the waste to be buried in the controlled fields inside the industrial plant (Figure 5). Few landfills in Mexico have yet to be used for biogas generation. The most successful is the one in municipality of Salinas Victoria, Nuevo Leon. A methane recovery project developed under the Millennium Development Goals. It is a 7 MW plant that captures and converts the biogas into electricity, generating enough electricity to power the light transportation system ―metro‖ and city lighting energy. Bioenergy Nuevo Leon, SA de CV is the first project renewable energy in Mexico and Latin America to use biogas as fuel formed in a landfill (BENLESA, 2014). Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 157 Figure 5. Two aspects of the MSW treatment at the landfill ―El Paraiso‖, Querétaro. Below: container bags coming from the separation bands. Above: Compressed PET bottles. Source: JAGG. CIVIL ORGANIZATIONS A number of pro-environment civil organizations have risen in Mexico. Many of them have been involved in collection campaigns for used cells, PET, and WEEE. Few of them participate in educational programs for separation of residues and recycling at home, and even a more reduced number have documented their experience, mostly part of a research project. In this section some well-documented examples are discussed with the aim to analyze the factors that drive people to participate. Complimentary Contributor Copy 158 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona Guerrero Abarca, Maas, and Hogland (2013) suggest that citizens who are informed about the benefits of recycling, waste and treatment, and who participate in the program design, are more involved in recycling campaigns. But the participation of municipal leaders and more efficient collection systems are also important. Therefore, success of recycling depends not only on the levels of participation but also the efficiency of the equipment and infrastructure. Bernache Pérez (2011) states that waste management involves many stakeholders with different interests, and that a detailed understanding of who the stakeholders are and the responsibilities in the structure are important steps in order to establish an efficient and effective system. In any case, citizen participation is a key element in the problem of MSW and its solution. In the metropolitan area of Guadalajara (ZMG) civil organizations performed domestic harvest of MSW and separation projects. Some of them have organized a collection service for weekdays; others have collection centers for separation and transfer to recycling or service concessionaires. Residents and staff are trained on issues of separation and disposal. The response of the residents was very high, about 90% (Bernache Pérez, 2011). Among these organizations, ODECO (Organization for Community Development) attempted a domestic separation project that delivered to each house a collection of colorful bags for the separation process. Even though this project was very well regarded and worked well at first, the growing demand, made it impossible to economically sustain the free supply of bags and the project collapsed. It was not possible to get adequate financial support. The Urban Colonies Civic Organization of Jalisco developed a cooperative whose purpose was to collect separated MSW by the members and give preliminary treatment to be sold to recycling companies. However, the cooperative growth exceeded the administrative capacity of the organization and the project broke down (Bernache Pérez, 2011). From 2010 in the state of Jalisco, there have been four collecting campaigns of WEEE (Figure 6). In the first one, organized by project Ecovía and the Guadalajara municipality, a total of 51.3 tons was collected. From 2011, the campaigns have involved multiple municipalities. In 2011, 23 municipalities collected 100.2 tons of WEEE; in 2012, 30 municipalities collected 104.4 tons; and, in 2013, 46 municipalities collected 104.6 tons of WEEE and 6.3 tons of used cells and batteries (Bernache Pérez, Guevara García, Olivia Peña Ortíz, & Chávez Arce, 2013). These collection campaigns have been a success based on the impact on environmental awareness and public participation. Collaboration among social organizations, state and municipal governments was the key factor. Even though the 365.9 tons of WEEE collected in the four years is only a small fraction of the estimated WEEE flow of 87,932 tons in the State of Jalisco, the campaigns were the starting point to motivate changes in patterns of consumption and disposal of electrical and electronic equipment in the Jalisco population. Campaigns affect the environmental culture and leave the way open for new initiatives to come for larger scale long-term programs, in which the participation of society and the government reaches a higher level of commitment to environmental stewardship and with responsibility for overall management of WEEE (Peña Ortiz, Chávez Arce, Bernache Pérez, & Guevara García, 2013). Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 159 Figure 6. Different aspects of 2013 inter-municipality collection campaign of WEEE and used cells in Guadalajara, Jalisco. Source: JAGG. Many others recollection campaigns have been organized in Mexico, practically all over the national territory, some of them have become well established and long-term. For example, the program ―Responsible Management of cells and batteries in the Federal District‖ was established in Mexico City by the Ministry of Environment (SMA) in collaboration with the company Images Modern Furniture (IMU). It began in February 2007, with 280 posters in bus stops. During several years, this program has collected 245 tons of used cells and batteries, which were sent for proper treatment in a specialized facility. REMSA Company has also organized public campaigns through their civil organization ―Punto Verde‖ with the collaboration of different local social organizations in every State. However, the analysis of the collection campaigns shows that these have a tendency to reach a point of maximum recovery and, therefore, have limited potential for recovering most of the WEEE generated in a given city or state. In the case of the state of Jalisco, for example, the WEEE collected represents about 0.6% of the total of WEEE generated. Likewise, the program for collection of used batteries in Mexico City only recovers 3% of the 2200 ton of used batteries disposed each year. RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT In Mexico there is not an institute or research center dedicated to recycling R&D and, in comparison with other areas of applied science, it can be considered an area of low priority or interest. However, Mexico has recognized the need to increase productivity and Complimentary Contributor Copy 160 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona competitiveness of the economy through innovation in renewable energies, recycling and environment technologies, though the general framework for innovation has not been effective, and Mexico has fallen short of its objectives. Mexico has the smallest expenditure in R&D among OECD members and private sector direct investment on R&D, is the lowest. Results of innovation have been weak, although there has been a somewhat higher patenting activity in some environmental technologies and renewable energy levels. The widespread preference for imported technology has hindered the diffusion and transfer of technology to Mexican companies, especially small and medium enterprises (OECD, 2013). The Mexican Government applies less than 1% of the DGP to education and R&D; this is clearly insufficient, especially if it is contrasted to the European Union (EU) investment, which reached around 200 million euros to finance eco-innovation projects in the period 2008-2013. Recycling has been one of the main areas that received E.U. funding (EEA, 2011). In the following paragraphs some representative research themes in the area of recycling are briefly presented. The Centre for Research in Applied Chemistry (CIQA, www.ciqa.mx) performs R&D on PET-compatibilized polyolefin blends systems, continuous improvement process of the mechanical recycling of PET containers, and physical-mechanical behavior studies of the biodegradation of PET containers. The CIQA also advises the industry in the implementation of recycling processes in engineering plastics such as polycarbonate, ABS (AcrylonitrileButadiene-Styrene) and Nylon used in both electronic and automotive parts, as well as in the reuse of waste plastics for agricultural applications such as mulch greenhouses, etc. In the Autonomous University of Baja California (UABC), different inorganic residues such as waste activated sludge with ashes rich in SiO2 are used to prepare glass-ceramic coating (Alcántar Vázquez, Haro Vázquez, Chávez Carvayar, & Díaz Trujillo, 2012). The Institute of Biotechnology of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) is working on a project to develop bacterium capable of degrading plastic containers, a technology that is in the earliest stage of research, but is the next step for the recycling industry. In the Biomaterials Research Center of the University of Guadalajara (U de G) and in UAM-Iztapalapa, research is conducted to obtain chitin from shrimp shells. At the Autonomous University of Tlaxcala (UATx), projects include: implementation of processes using residual energy of used cells for the production of hydrogen (Guevara García, Morales Chamorro, González Contreras, & Munive Rojas, 2013); hydrometallurgical processes for the recovery of metals and electrolytic manganese oxide with high commercial value; synthesis of high-tech materials from the recovered components; microwave application in electronic tablets for the recovery of precious metals; scaling to industrial plant; environmental impact studies and management for collection and recycling of used batteries and electronic waste. Additional themes are recycling of used tires at the Autonomous University of Queretaro, recycling of construction concrete residuals at the National Polytechnic Institute (IPN), and recycling of used comestible oil at the ITESM. Santibañez-Aguilar et al. (2013) have developed a distributed system for MSW processing companies in the Bajio region in Mexico. The methodology is based on the mathematical formulation of the optimal routes for the reuse of MSW to maximize the economic benefits and to take into account the social and environmental aspects. The optimized model is able to select processing technologies, products and location of companies. Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 161 MEXICANS AGAINST RECYCLING With an annual consumption of 160 L per person, Mexicans have the first place in drinking sodas in the world -and linked to this, first place in obesity (Sánchez, 2013). This generates, on average, one PET bottle waste (600 mL, 1.5 L or 3 L) per Mexican per day. The fate of most of these bottles is not a recycling process: millions of these are discarded in public spaces, roads and transport systems, beaches and rivers. During the rainy season, these residues contribute to clogged drains, causing flooding with traffic chaos and accidents of urban centers (Schwanse, 2011). This fact exemplifies the attitude of the Mexican on the theme of recycling, and explains why in our country most solid waste has its end in the ground, either in landfills, dumps or streets. To Bernache Pérez (2011), the root of the garbage problem is consumption in its current form; consumption patterns formed by voracious acquisition of objects, goods and merchandise, that, as soon as they reach the hands of consumers, are devoured, used and rapidly transformed into waste. Furthermore, Bernache affirms that compulsive consumption is a problem that arises from the current economic model and the type of industry production that dominates today's society. The problem also has anthropological, cultural and even geographic components, as well as being heavily influenced by a globally imposed network of practices (Alexander & Reno, 2012). Therefore, it is necessary to determine the cultural, idiosyncratic, and anthropological components of the Mexican attitude against recycling as individuals and collectively. HOW WILLING ARE MEXICANS TO RECYCLE? Different kinds of studies that address the generally negative Mexican attitude towards recycling are described below, as a guide to find solutions. Corral-Verdugo (2003) analyzes the waste management practices of 200 Mexicans in the north of the country, directly observing what they do with the used objects (aluminum, clothing, steel, paper, cardboard and newspapers). They were asked to separate for reuse and recycling. Participants were adults and youth in with low, medium and high socioeconomic status. Other factors such as religious beliefs, environmental knowledge, and conservation reasons were analyzed. Few correlations between instances of re-use and recycling practices were found, implying that the latter are determined by various personal and situational factors. It was also noted that although most of the factors are situational, psychological variables, particularly the reasons for conservation practices significantly influence the re-use and recycling. Commercial TV is another important factor for the extent of its use and influence in Mexican people; since this is an important source of incitement to consumerism and thus a recycling inhibitor. Individuals reported to like watching TV for hours correlated with reduced effort for re-use. Instead, reading publications with scientific content or books influence the development of conservation practices and motivated concern for the environment. This author concluded that reuse and recycling in Mexico are promoted by other factors than ecological concern, pro-environmental beliefs or variables related to Complimentary Contributor Copy 162 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona environmentalism. In the absence of situational enablers or reasons to reuse and recycle, people do not get involved in waste management practices (Corral-Verdugo, 2003). An early study suggested that religious beliefs negatively influence the recycling of paper, which is consistent with other studies in which religious beliefs, especially fundamentalist and ultra-conservative, are correlated with anti-environmentalism (Schultz, Zelezny, & Dalrymple, 2000). There seems to be a system of anthropocentric beliefs blocking awareness of the environmental situation, promoting disinterest in issues of environmental conservation and resulting in an absence of recycling habits. However, Corral-Verdugo et al. (2008) drew attention to this apparent dichotomy between two seemingly contradictory belief systems: the "Human Exceptionalism Paradigm" (HEP) - an anthropocentric belief system-and the "New Environmental Paradigm" (NEP) of ecocentric nature. The dichotomy may be resolved by a new integrative and not contradictory paradigm, the "New Human Interdependence Paradigm" (NHIP). It is supposed that people with NHIP beliefs are not totally anthropocentric because they are aware of the dependent relationship on natural services, thus they develop environment concern, especially in regard to water conservation practices. Muñoz-Cadena et al. (2009) noted the need to develop 'smart', attractive and convenient schemes for people to engage in recycling on the basis of the needs of current homes. Schemes of source separation are usually created by experts in waste management and efficiency of these systems from the user's perspective is often ignored. In addition, there is a strong correlation between moral standards and recycling behavior, thus a strategy based on the creation of a social image of recycling as a useful, enjoyable and important activity is needed. Two other variables were also important predictors of tendency of households to recycle: Information and environmental awareness. From these results it can be concluded that the implementation of recycling schemes should be accompanied by sufficient publicity and promotion in order to educate participants, and there is a need to reinforce the recycling message regularly. However, the cost is almost certainly the factor, which dictates the methods and systems that can be used. Arroyo et al. (2012) conducted a study with a sample of residents of the state of Mexico, in the central part of the country, in order to identify segments of individuals with similar demographic and psychographic profiles who could be attracted to appropriate social marketing programs. A hierarchical cluster analysis resulted in seven segments of individuals with different levels of knowledge and attitudes towards recycling and environmental issues and with distinctive socio-demographic profiles. These segments were related to recycling behavior using an event of recovery of e-waste in the community. Two of the seven segments are identified as "active recyclers", three of them as "non-recyclers", one as "indifferent" and the latter as "negligent". In 2012, the Centre for Social Studies and Public Opinion (CESOP) conducted a national telephone survey entitled "Survey on the situation of the country and the waste management", analyzing 672 cases. Indicators used for this survey showed a citizen concerned about the problem of litter and the environment, willing to change their consumption habits, responsive to actions to promote proper waste management, and in favor of the government being responsible for providing the waste service (not a private company), and unreceptive to the idea of making a payment in order to have a better separation of garbage. The indicators also showed that persons were adverse to enforcement actions, such as creating fines for not separating garbage (Meixueiro Nájera & Arellano Trejo, 2012). Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 163 Cruz-Sotelo et al. (2013) investigated recycling practices with regard to cell phones in Mexico and Spain and found that the young population is the largest consumer segment. In Spain, 68% of young people, and in Mexico, 17.2% have a low level of environmental awareness; which means that this population does not know the impact to the environment that this equipment produces as wastes. They also did not know about companies responsible for the management of these residues, or did not perform any environmentally positive practice with used cell phones. The authors found that the common management practice for used cell phones is storing or giving it away. ATTEMPTS FOR INTRODUCING RECYCLING PRACTICES The following describes campaigns in Mexico with the goal to induce a change to separation and recycling behavior within the respective communities. In March 2002 the company Caabsa and the municipality of Guadalajara launched a waste separation program in various routes within the municipality. The program featured a team of social workers at the University of Guadalajara and environmental advocates who conducted a campaign of environmental awareness instruction targeted to families, including public and private religious schools, and neighborhood organizations. For 2003, the municipality of Guadalajara was divided into 183 collection routes where 1543 tons/day of MSW were collected. The 16 routes of the Selective Collection Program generated about 109 tons, i.e., covered 7% of the MSW generated by the municipality (Bernache Pérez, 2011). Although the program had many positive aspects, the need to strengthen the motivation with further environmental education campaigns was evident, plus it was observed that the trucks do not always make their collection regularly, and operators frequently mix residues. Most importantly, the final separation in the waste processing plant failed to meet the expectations of the program and therefore separated residues were not fully recycled (Bernache Pérez, 2011). In 2006, a program to reduce MSW in the Mérida subsidiary of Research and Advanced Studies of the National Polytechnic Institute (CINVESTAV-Merida) was implemented. This program aimed to serve as a waste management model for the municipality and other educational centers of the region. Results showed that it was possible to reduce the amount of waste to the sanitary landfill by 70%. The program also generated revenue and showed that it can be profitable, once the initial investment has been recovered. Savings could be achieved by the operation of the system; mainly by reducing the costs of transporting the waste to the disposal site. After 3 years of operation of this system in CINVESTAV-Merida, a net profit of 5,240 USD was obtained. Profit varied during the 3-year period; in the times of the year where a recess is given, then there was no student participation (Maldonado, 2006). In 2003, the Metropolitan Autonomous University (UAM) Azcapotzalco campus began a Solid Waste Management program called ―Separación para un mejor UAMbiente‖ (Separation for a better UAM environment). Accounts carried out in 2013 showed that the program had sent to recycle 77,447 kg of recoverable recycling waste: 7,099 kg of PET bottles; 12,829 kg of multilayer containers; 171 kg of aluminum cans; 10,487 kg of glass; 26,361 kg of paper; and 20,500 kg of cardboard (Espinosa Valdemar et al., 2013). Like other Complimentary Contributor Copy 164 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona cases of promoting recycling campaigns in schools, a significant decline was observed in collection when there are no activities for students. Armijo de Vega et al. (2014) reported a novel approach in implementing a waste management program in the UABC. In this campaign, work did not depend on the support of the authorities but was supported using an inverted scheme where the basal components –the student community- dictated the activities. To facilitate the initial steps, "hooks" were used in the same way as a commercial product is promoted. Though the change obtained was positive, the authors emphasized that it is imperative to also look for other strategies that increase the responsibility of the community on the issue of waste management to acquire a serious commitment in recycling not because it is fashionable, but it is right to do it. PICKERS CASE As in many Latin American and developing countries, marginalized social groups living in extreme poverty have proliferated in Mexico. In these groups, people collect "recoverable" materials on the street, getting scarce economic resources for this activity. People who engage in this activity have been called pepenadores, pickers, scavengers or recyclers (term adopted at the First World Conference of Recyclers in 2008) (Gutberlet, 2012). There are two types of recyclers: itinerants, who roam the streets picking up objects (e.g., aluminum cans, plastic and cardboard) or go from house to house buying residues (e.g. pieces of iron, bottles, old furniture); and landfill scavengers, who make collection and sorting of recyclable materials in some local dump and sell these materials at the collection centers. Based on the activity of recyclers, entire supply chains have appeared, involving collection and storage centers, transportation and facilities where recycling takes place. These activities are carried out without strict safety and environmental practices (Schwanse, 2011). An estimated 24 million people around the world participate in recycling activities: collection, retrieval, sorting, grading, cleaning, packing, and compaction and processing the residues into new products. The vast majority -about 80 %- of them is in the informal economy. Their job reduces the amount of waste in municipal landfills, as waste materials are recovered and reintroduced into value chains. Recyclers‘ activities benefit the environment and public health, and are often the only form of solid waste management at no cost to the municipal budget (WIEGO, 2014). The scavenging is an adaptive response to the shortage, and is more pronounced in periods of high unemployment and poverty, economic crisis and during wars. Individuals become recyclers due to lack of education, few professional skills, advanced age, drug or mental problems (Medina, 2001). Recyclers are in serious health risk and the activity often involves sacrificing the education of their children. This in turn strengthens the intergenerational transfer of poverty (Nurul Amin, 2005). Children often engage in waste collection, to contribute to the family income or to survive on their own. Garbage collection, especially in open dumps, is one of the worst forms of child labor. It can damage the health of children and stunt their development. Of most concern is that recyclers build their homes within landfills or on their periphery. Without adequate selection of landfill site location, there is a risk to use vulnerable areas of aquifer recharge or near forests or surface water, with the consequent flooding or fire. In the Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 165 latter case, experience shows that fires can last weeks due to the amount of litter, not only causing pollution of soil and air, but respiratory and health problems. The environmental impacts of improper dumps are mostly related to the migration of contaminants either in the form of gas and/or leachate. Among these sites, especially dangerous are those in which openair burning is a common practice. Released pollutants (in the ash, soil and air) may include: heavy metals, petroleum hydrocarbons, furans and semi-volatile organic compounds (SVOC), polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and dioxins. Soil is the medium that receives the pollutants contained in the ash. Thus, human receptors in or near these sites may be exposed to these contaminants through direct contact or by the spread in the air (Atencio Pérez, Reyes-López, & Guevara-García, 2013). Brazil has been relatively successful in reducing this form of child labor, through a national campaign. Parents receive a monthly stipend, provided they send their children to school, are vaccinated, and obtain prenatal care. The stipend compensates families for the loss of child labor income. This program, with support of World Bank loans, allows more than 40,000 children to leave scavenging and go to school (Medina, 2008). From the social point of view, what has been seen in Latin America is that as the informal recyclers are formalized, social conditions are improved. There are experiences of integration and formalization resulting in entrepreneurship and cooperatives (Durán Salinas, 1993). In Mexico a large percentage of the initial recovery of valuable recyclable material is in the hands of the informal sector recyclers. The lack of efficient waste management induces management practices such as burning and burial of waste, but the participation of recyclers mitigates the environmental impact of these practices. However, informal sector recyclers are still undervalued and abused. In Baja California, Favela Avila et al. (2013) reported three disposal sites of small size where recyclers can only sell the materials recovered to the administrator of the place at the price set in advance, which is a lot lower than commercial one. The manager often sets fires in the dump. On larger landfills, the social figure of leader appears among the recyclers. The leader controls the landfill: access, work areas, marketing and distribution, and profits, retaining a significant portion of the economic benefits. They do this by intimidation and political influence. Castillo Berthier (2003) states that the garbage problem in Mexico is a true reflection of the political system traditionally based on corporatism, through which leaders or caciques (a person who holds absolute power within a group) control the charro unions. The leaders are at the service of bourgeoisie and authorities, but not the workers. This control has been central in preventing the formation and organization of genuine trade unions (Roman & Velasco Arregui, 2006), and in the establishment of the political system of Mexico, after the revolution. Despite strong national control of unions and their leaders, in some cases some autonomous organizations appears and recyclers can then improve their living conditions. In the landfill ―Peñasco‖ in San Luis Potosi, the scavenging activity goes beyond the limits of mere subsistence and provides recyclers with a good amount of extra income apart from food, clothing and material resources for building their homes. Scavenging activity is productive and more efficient for them than farm work or crafts: it is a privileged place in terms of employment, hence they try to sustain the activity (Guzmán Chávez & Macías Manzanares, 2012). Breeders Society of Materials (SOCOSEMA) operating in Juarez on the US-Mexico border of El Paso, Texas, is one of the most successful recyclers‘ cooperatives in Mexico. Complimentary Contributor Copy 166 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona Currently, members recover 150 tons/day of paper, cardboard, glass, plastic, rubber, animal bones, organic matter, and metals. This represents about 5% of the total MSW arriving at the city dump. Until 1975, before the cooperative was created, one person had the grant to recover recyclable material and paid recyclers low prices for the material recovered by them. Consequently the workers had a very low income. In 1975, this intermediary announced that he would buy only paper and at a lower price, so that the recyclers protested. With the help of a university professor, the financial support of a local businessman and sympathy of the City Mayor, recyclers founded the SOCOSEMA cooperative. The impact has been impressive: a few months after its founding, the income of members increased 10 times. The cooperative also receives donation of recyclable materials, paper and metal scrap, from nearby maquiladoras. SOCOSEMA members provide clean service for these companies for a fee (Medina, 2000). The cooperative members now have better income, training courses and formal education programs granted by the cooperative, access to health services and legal protection. Moreover, SOCOSEMA has developed good relationships with industry, although initially there was some reluctance (Medina, 2000). In a few years, the development of cooperatives in the region has gained importance, and many of them have been created in Venezuela, Peru, Ecuador, Guatemala, and Costa Rica. RECYCLING AND SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT IN MEXICO Sustainable waste management must not only involve local authorities with waste management responsibilities, but also authorities at all levels of government with responsibility for economic and social development, environmental protection and health, education and scientific and technological development, and energy. In addition, those sectors of society, especially waste generators, must be responsible for reducing waste and the generation, managing residues in an environmentally sound manner and assuming the costs and consequences of the damage they cause. An effective waste management system reflects good governance. Projects such as "zero waste" require new approaches and infrastructure management and also a combination of physical infrastructure (facilities for collection, storage, sorting and recycling, treatment and disposal) and an effective social framework (education, regulations and financial systems) to ensure optimum service to society. Additional facilities such as a centralized data logging system for analysis, assessment and projecting waste management systems are priority areas for governance and infrastructure (Zaman, 2014). Although good waste practices can help, a change in the paradigm of sustainable waste management is needed; this paradigm should be based on a material‘s life cycle. The current situation is a linear based system of production-consumption-disposition where goods and services are produced in massive proportions, offered to society for unrestricted consumption and then converted to residues, most of them disposed and only a fraction of them recovered and reintroduced to production chains. The life cycle of materials, in contrast, is one with inherent sustainable use of resources, materials, and energy; learning from nature, where biological processes do not generate waste, but are organized in cycles. Waste generation is only a part of the cycle, which depends on the success of the entire paradigm. This must guide Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 167 the markets, encourage the minimum use of materials to become waste and prevent considerable efforts and economic resources to be spent on the continuous cleaning of the places, and also allow improvements to their wellbeing (education, health care and others) (Lehmann, 2010). CHANGE PROPOSAL IN LEGISLATION The commitment of government to waste management should be the implementation of appropriate national and regional standards, as well as their effective implementation and regulation. Government should also define shared responsibilities for all levels of authority (federal, state and municipal) and producers (industry, traders, retailers), in accordance with the objectives of a National Plan. The Basic Diagnostics for Integrated Waste Management elaborated by INECC (Avedoy Gutiérrez et al., 2012) examined, among other things, the legal framework for waste in Mexico and noted several proposals about adequacy. In the same direction, the aforementioned text concludes by posing three key proposals on regulations on integrated waste management: 1. Introduce a Constitutional definition of waste management to clarify the jurisdiction of the three levels of government and establish that residues generators are responsible for the effects they cause in the environment and its treatment. 2. In state-level environmental legislation, define the rights and obligations of recipients of services linked to the item; define the procedures necessary for the provision of such services, and the possibility for particulars to provide such services with or without concession. 3. Modifying the Federal Penal Code to simplify the types of criminal offense in the matter of hazardous waste. Additional regulatory elements are necessary to ensure the commitment of public and private sector. Some of them could be:    Agreements with industry to dramatically reduce the packaging residues. On the way to a "zero waste" economy, manufacturers will be increasingly responsible for the entire lifecycle of its products, including recycling, by introducing an "extended producer responsibility" (EPR) policy (Lehmann, 2010). Appropriate economic incentives, tax exemptions and cooperation schemes for economic activities and actors at all levels (micro, small and medium enterprises) for the activities of collection, recovery, regeneration, recycling, and R&D. Formalization of the public-private cooperation for separation programs and local recovery community campaigns and pilot projects, as well as advertising. Incorporate an integral recycling tracking system such as the Green Dot System in Europe, where all players are reporting their data to be verified, processed and published (Schwanse, 2011). Complimentary Contributor Copy 168 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona INCLUDING RECYCLERS IN SOCIETY Incorporating recyclers into management and recycling programs may be socially desirable, economically viable and environmentally sound. Decision makers must recognize that recyclers can be an asset, and municipalities have to engage with them as potential partners. Recyclers have already begun to organize themselves using different business models. In some countries, governments have launched programs to support this business. Similarly, international donors are increasingly integrating recyclers in programs to promote urban development, cleaner environment, and increasing recycling activities (Medina, 2008). Instead of being stigmatized, the recycler sector should be recognized as an important element for achieving sustainable waste management in developing countries. To ensure their integration into the formal waste management system, Ezeah et al. (2013) proposed six crucial aspects: social acceptance, political will, mobilizing cooperatives, partnership with private companies, management and techniques skills as well as legal protection schemes. A mutually beneficial and economically viable proposition is to conduct joint activities of formal and informal sectors in order to achieve an optimal solution for recycling practices without compromising the environment, health and safety (Raghupathy & Chaturvedi, 2013). A sustainable model was proposed by the Tellus study (2011) in USA. This study provided strong evidence that national strategies for recycling and composting in the US can significantly and sustainably address critical national priorities such as climate change, job creation, and improving health. A 75% goal for MSW and construction waste reutilization was planned by 2030, creating a total of 2.3 million jobs. Likewise a significant number of indirect jobs associated with related businesses for this sector was expected, as well as others induced by the emergence of these new workers. Women in Informal Employment: Globalizing and Organizing (WIEGO) believes that governments should recognize the existence of the significant environmental, social, technical and economic role recyclers‘ play. Governments should also invest in policies to ensure stability in employment and decent life for recyclers in the bottom of the recycling chain (WIEGO, 2013). EDUCATION There is no freedom without responsibility and education. As citizens, it is through education that people learn how to make decisions in our daily lives. Education is one of the most powerful decision-making tools. Education can reconcile consumption with freedom and responsibility. Education for Sustainable Consumption (ESC) is essential to empower individuals and social groups with adequate information about the impact of their daily decisions as consumers, as well as viable alternatives (UNEP, 2010). The integration of ESC in formal education, from primary school to higher education programs is essential. Children and young people are the most vulnerable and influential consumers. One of the earliest actions in this sense in Mexico was undertaken by the National Association of Universities and Institutions of Higher Education (ANUIES). In 1999, ANUIES proposed integrating sustainable development on the agenda of the Higher Education Institutions (IES), and in 2000, together with SEMARNAT, published the "Plan of Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 169 Action for the Sustainable Development of the IES". Several institutions developed their institutional environmental plans with different levels of consolidation and at different times. Some of the participants‘ institutions were UNAM, with the University Environment Program (PUMA); IPN, with the Environmental Program; UAM, with the Institutional Program towards Sustainability (PIHASU). Also some private universities have such programs, including the Iberoamerican University (UIA) and ITESM, campus Estado de México. Among the actions undertaken in relation to the recommendations of the environmental performance evaluation study: Mexico, 2003 (OECD, 2013), there is one about education: further strengthening of environmental education and awareness, especially among young people. A Strategy for Environmental Education for Sustainability was approved in 2006. Between the actions taken since then include the introduction of issues of environmental education in the national curriculum (in 2010, 54% of all basic education programs incorporate an environmental dimension) and the development of the program ―Escuela Verde‖ (Green School). Recently, SEMARNAT, through its Training Centre for Sustainable Development (CECADESU) has coordinated its efforts with ANUIES for the formulation of environmental plans in the Institutions of Higher Education (PAIS). This program aims is to promote environmental education in order to meet the challenge presented by environmental issues in Mexico, and in particular the issue of sustainable waste management (Bravo-Mercado & Sánchez-Soler, 2002). CONCLUSION Recycling rates in Mexico are low because there is not adequate infrastructure, established technological procedures, adequate legislation, pro-environmental education, program continuity, political will, and sufficient budget, among other factors. But there is willingness on the part of many people to take action individually or communally inside organizations, cooperatives, NGOs, and companies. New enterprises came out with increasing frequency with novel approaches such as the observed in landfill ―El Paraiso‖, REMSA, Unare, SOCOSEMA, and others. Isolated efforts from civil organizations give discrete outcomes compared to the amount of MSW generated in municipalities, but when associated with enterprises or/and local governments‘, the result is remarkable. Furthermore, when multiple success stories occur in a single state, the result can be outstanding; Queretaro, for example, is first place (57%) in separate collection of MSW. At the municipal level it is also necessary to form inter-municipal associations. In the state of Jalisco, for example, projects can transcend time service of municipal governments (3 years) because they sign long-term agreements, with the additional benefit of a bigger funding. The model of waste separation within domiciles has generally failed. Recycling has not permeated into the habits of young people as a culture. In addition, the pernicious influence of TV and a culture of consumption is an obstacle to a consciousness of the importance of sustainability. It is common for people to demonstrate environmental awareness by answering Complimentary Contributor Copy 170 José Antonio Guevara-García and Virginia Montiel-Corona a questionnaire, and even carry out pro-environment individual practices, but the impact is diluted because of the lack of social collective organization. Mexicans are anthropocentric, but have potential for environmental awareness. Continuous reinforce of ecological values is necessary, but a change of belief system is the definitive solution. In looking for possible solutions, it is worth recalling Bernache's words: "Social participation for integrated waste management is much more than moderate consumption and waste separation for recycling, social participation should grow up in a context of democracy and begins with the critical reflection of our own consumption. The social economic system requires a transformation to achieve a repositioning against consumption, reach social equality and respect for nature. In the transition from mechanical processes to integral waste management systems the key element, certainly, is citizen participation, given that it is unthinkable a sustainable development in this area without the component of social management in the logic of a commitment with nature and the regional ecosystem." (Bernache Perez, 2011, p. 25 and 29). According to the observation of cases of success and failure in all areas through the sections of this chapter, it is possible to make the following recommendations that could promote a recycle culture in Mexico: I. From society, it is imperative that collecting campaigns will continue, making them permanent and not sporadic. In order that campaigns do not simply depend on the good will of some people, appropriate laws and standards should be enacted and civil society must form citizen observatories, to review environmental laws compliance of government and companies. It is also necessary that society will press the Federal Government to make a real education reform that includes contents that will generate future environmental mindset citizens and non-anthropocentric consumer beings. In this scheme, every consumer product must be associated with an end-of-life treatment and should be made for reuse and/or recycling, and every consumer should be aware of what is this end-of-life treatment in order to properly classify the residue and, consequently, start its recycling route. II. From the Federal Government, not only legal bases for the environment protection are necessary, it is also essential to promote social organizations, R&D, and municipality programs. It is necessary to develop partnerships with inter-municipal governments, ONG‘s and enterprises for compliance with environmental regulations, waste management, and power generation with alternative energies: biogas, eolic, solar, etc. The National Council for Science and Technology (CONACYT) should boost R&D that will be required for a new sustainable society, funding those professionals with strong capacity for innovation, not necessarily recognized researchers, to implement projects in areas such as alternative energy, waste management, water treatment, soil improvement and rehabilitation, and recycling technologies, among others. III. From recyclers sector, work in the informal sector should be turned into decent work, which requires job stability and security, increased productivity and incomes, and improving working conditions. Three models have been used to organize waste recyclers: microenterprises, cooperatives and public-private partnerships. This can lead to more efficient recycling and more effective poverty reduction. Is it possible to create jobs, reduce poverty, save money for municipalities, improve industrial competitiveness, conserve natural resources and protect the environment, but only with the integration of recyclers into the formal economy. Furthermore, to addresses some of the Millennium Development Goal for Complimentary Contributor Copy Pushing Mexico to a Recycling Culture 171 reducing poverty, it is necessary to implement cooperation between municipal collectors and recyclers, promote partnership processes through courses specially designed for recyclers in order to turn them into a cooperative and provide opportunities to improve their management skills and work (Gutberlet, 2012). IV. For the educational sector, the absence of a pro-environmental and recycling culture is a profound problem. It is very important to grow new generations of children with new habits, customs and ways of being ecocentric in nature; responsible in the use of water, to separate residues, to not open fires on used tires ― as part of their character, honest and incorruptible. But Mexico cannot wait until a totally new generation arrives to make a new start. Political, economic, social, infrastructure and, above all, educational conditions must begin now. Mexican society needs a new framework with new ecological-oriented laws free from undue pressures of economically powerful groups. It needs new green businesses and enterprises committed to sustainability and under the regulatory scheme of extended producer responsibility; NGOs must effectively monitor the environmental performance of governments and companies, actively participating in the discussion of environmental laws. A pro-active really democratic Federal Government is needed which promotes sustainable economic growth based on sound science. Finally, to break the cycle of corruption and apathy, the fundamental paradigm of education must change so that we do not train consumer individuals but rather people who are deeply aware of their natural environment and the importance of sustainability. REFERENCES Alcántar Vázquez, B. C., Haro Vázquez, M. d. P., Chávez Carvayar, A., & Díaz Trujillo, G. C. (2012). Elaboración de recubrimientos vitrocerámicos a partir de residuos inorgánicos. In G. C. Díaz Trujillo & J. F. Gallardo Lancho (Eds.), Residuos Sólidos en Iberoamérica (pp. 26-49). Salamanca, ES: Red Iberoamericana de Física y Química. Alexander, C., & Reno, J. (2012). Economies of Recycling: The Global Transformation of Materials, Values and Social Relations (1st. Ed.). Oxford, UK: Zed Books. Álvarez Medina, M. d. L. (2004). 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Rerieved from http://data.worldbank.org/ indicator/SI.POV.GINI Zaman, A. U. (2014). Roadmap towards Zero Waste Cities. International Journal of Waste Resources, 4(2), 1000e1106. doi: 10.4172/2252-5211.1000e106 Complimentary Contributor Copy In: Mexico in Focus Editor: José Galindo ISBN: 978-1-63321-885-7 © 2015 Nova Science Publishers, Inc. Chapter 7 LAND, FOREST, AND PUEBLOS IN THE MESETA PURÉPECHA, 1869-1911 Fernando Pérez Montesinos* Georgetown University, Washington, D.C., US ABSTRACT This chapter studies a number of land and social changes occurring during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in the meseta purépecha, a highland region of the state of Michoacán, Mexico. It examines, in particular, the land regime of a group of local indigenous communities. It pays special attention to how environmental conditions—a peculiar combination of forested mountains and flat terrains, annual patterns of rain, volcanic soils, and an imbalanced distribution of water sources— contributed to shape the material life of these communities. It analyzes the events and compelling influences behind the reformation of old agrarian practices and land tenure systems. It argues that an unprecedented combination of political changes, land and fiscal policies, population growth, and commercial expansion resulted in one of the major transformations in the history of the region and its communities. Keywords: meseta purépecha, land, forest, Michoacán, and indigenous communities INTRODUCTION From roughly 1869 to 1911, the pueblos of the central-west plateau of Michoacán went through momentous changes. The driving force behind these changes was something called reparto. The term reparto is bound to liberalism and the supporters of liberalism during the nineteenth century. It was used at the time to describe a series of land reforms attempting to turn communal land rights into individual property rights. This chapter, however, conceives reparto in a more comprehensive manner. It sees it as a peculiar combination of * E-mail: [email protected] Complimentary Contributor Copy 178 Fernando Pérez Montesinos circumstances and forces leading up to significant alterations in how pueblos possessed, used, and benefited from their lands. These forces acted differently at different times. The first wave of changes (c. 18691885), in addition to legal reforms, involved a major political shift, an upward demographic trend, and a new fiscal policy upon landed properties. The second wave (c. 1885-1911) involved all the previous, plus new legal measures and, more importantly, the development of railway networks and the rise of commercial forestry. The reparto is commonly described as a disruptive process. Overwhelmed by land reforms, political elites, and landowners, indigenous communities fell apart and gave way to massive appropriations of communal lands (Powell, 1974; Knight, 1986). The evidence presented in this chapter, however, advises a different assessment. The reparto was, indeed, disruptive, perhaps even more disruptive than conventional explanations have suggested. Yet it was not as linear and straightforward a process as it has been implied. It had many twists and turns. Land appropriations by big landowners were just one aspect of the overall process and they were not always and not necessarily its more characteristic feature. In fact landowners, for the most part, played but a minor role. The reparto entailed both the rejection and collaboration of pueblos. It brought about adversity, but it also offered advantages to the people of the plateau. Land policies were patchy and had contradictory results. Compromise, as much as confrontation, characterized the whole process. The social consequences of the reparto have also been depicted in rather inflexible terms. The traditional picture of landlessness and desolation is not entirely inadequate, but it only describes one set of problems caused by the reparto process. The social costs of the reparto require a more detailed assessment that also takes into account the many contrasts, nuances, and puzzles engendered by this process. The impact of the reparto was experienced differently inside communities and from one pueblo to another. Some benefited more, while grievances were greater for others. Overall, the reparto caused divisions and broadened the social stratification of pueblos. The actual possession of land was often not the main issue at stake. Many community members kept their lands. Yet problems began when lands, especially family parcels, increasingly turned inadequate to support larger families. Pueblos also maintained possession of their commons (their forested areas, in particular), but conflicts surfaced over who would control them and how they were to be used and managed. Communities did not fall apart, divisions notwithstanding, but communal land tenure faced significant challenges and was at times almost entirely dismantled. The first section of this chapter describes the support system of local pueblos and how it was related to long-standing environmental conditions. Land tenure, land uses, and auxiliary activities all depended on the peculiar distribution of natural resources and physical features of the plateau. The second section treats the first wave of reparto. It keeps track of the forces behind this initial period of changes and examines how pueblos dealt with the unfolding transformation. The third and last section considers the second wave of reparto. It discusses how railways and commercial forestry introduced further changes in the land regime of pueblos and completely refashioned the relationship between communities, the government, and the economy. Complimentary Contributor Copy Land, Forest, and Pueblos in the Meseta Purépecha, 1869-1911 179 THE MESETA AND ITS PUEBLOS DURING NINETEENTH CENTURY Planes, lotes, and montes. Such were the three basic material supports of thousands of indigenous people living in the central-west highlands of Michoacán. It had been that way since at least the sixteenth century when Spanish colonization policies and the demographic collapse of local populations gave settlements in the region their enduring and characteristic make-up. Planes, lotes, and montes divided up a landscape of mountains, forests, and stretches of flat lands resting between slopes and irregular terrains. It was a land known by nineteenth-century writers and officials as meseta tarasca or Tarascan plateau. The term tarascos, however, was not one that people would use before contact. It was the way the Spanish came to know the Purépecha-speaking people of the region, once part of a 1 Mesoamerican polity whose power rivaled that of the Triple Alliance (Márquez, 2007). The meseta, at any rate, was known by its considerable elevation above the sea level which was significantly higher compared to other surrounding regions—namely, the valleys to the north and the lower lands to the south known as tierra caliente or hot-country (Fefer, 1989 pp.734). Plan or planes were the local terms employed to designate an area within pueblos wherein most arable lands were situated. Roughly speaking, planes were the equivalent of tierras de común repartimiento, a term more commonly used by government officials in other parts of Mexico during the nineteenth century. Both tierras de común repartimiento and planes referred to lands that were collectively held by pueblos, but were nonetheless allocated to and worked by individual families in separate parcels. In other words, families had the right to use and derive benefits from these parcels, but could not (in principle) buy them or sell them. Land rights remained a prerogative of the pueblo as a whole. Families, as a rule, planted corn in these parcels, the basic staple of Michoacán and the rest of central Mexico. Planes, in that sense, provided essential sustenance and constituted a fundamental part of the household economy. Lotes, for their part, were located within the confines of what was usually known as fundo legal, the built-up area wherein local dwellers had their houses, churches, markets, and public squares. Lotes, however, were more than leisure and residential spaces. They were also spaces of production. In general, lotes had three main sections: trojes, kitchens, and solares. Trojes comprised the main structure of lotes; they served as both granaries and sleeping quarters and their characteristic porches were sometimes utilized for woodworking and manufacturing tools and handicrafts. Kitchens, always an independent structure within lotes, also had several different uses; two were the most important: cooking during the daytime and sleeping quarters during the nighttime. Finally, solares constituted open spaces that were regularly fit for small-scale cultivation and were used by families to plant and harvest a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, and even some additional corn, all of which were either employed for self-consumption or sold in local markets. Montes, the third main component of the support system of indigenous people in the meseta, encompassed both forested areas and additional agricultural lands. For the most part, 1 It remains unclear how local populations called themselves before contact and even later under the Spanish rule. Although still problematic, scholars prefer nowadays the use of term purépecha. I will adopt such use in this chapter. I will also employ the term meseta to refer to the region because, unlike the word plateau, it conveys both an environmental and historical meaning. Complimentary Contributor Copy 180 Fernando Pérez Montesinos forested areas (mainly composed of several species of pine and oak trees) were not farmed and tended to be situated in the many hills and mountains of the region. As a result, the term montes was sometimes exclusively used as an equivalent of woodlands while the term ejido was employed to describe additional agricultural lands. What characterized both sets of lands was the fact that, unlike planes and lotes, they were neither distributed nor parceled out among the families of the pueblos. These lands constituted, strictly speaking, common areas whose uses and benefits, at least in principle, belonged to the whole community. Some pueblos utilized their additional agricultural areas as grazing lands or rented them out to outsiders and some community members. Ideally, the proceeds became part of common funds employed in collective undertakings (from paying taxes to maintaining public buildings to celebrating religious ceremonies and festivities). Forested areas, in contrast, were almost exclusively reserved for the use of community members and only marginally perceived as a source of major revenues (Castro, 2004; Purnell, 1999 pp.31-32; Azevedo, 2008; Lumholtz, 1902 p.365). This three-part land structure was, to an important degree, a product of the peculiar environmental conditions of the meseta. Pueblos were strategically situated so that people could take advantage of the peculiar physical features of the terrain. As a rule, settlements were located in the lower parts or next to the mountains and hills. Their location thus offered three main advantages. First, the erection and gradual expansion of the urban core (the fundo legal) could be done with relative easiness in the flat grounds, avoiding the inconveniences of occupying the steep and rugged lands where forested areas, as pointed out, were normally situated. Second, flat lands also facilitated planting and grazing. Only exceptionally did slopes were cultivated. Hence the use of the term planes (probably a derivation of the Spanish word plano or planos) which was used to refer to lands more suitable for agricultural purposes. Finally, the location of pueblos (erected on flat terrains, but next to the mountains) guaranteed steady access to local woodlands. Hills and mountains served as a sort of forest reserve from which local dwellers could obtain the wood they needed to build their houses, manufacture many kinds of wooden products, cook their food, and produce the charcoal that they sometimes sold in nearby markets. The water regime of the meseta played an equally important role in shaping the productive activities of local pueblos. The rainy season lasted from June to November. Precipitation was constant and heavy during these months. It was enough to recharge the bodies of water of the region. The distribution of these bodies was, however, fairly uneven. The same environmental conditions that made the coming of rains possible every year prevented water from being evenly distributed across the meseta. Local forests contributed to generate much of the precipitation. Forests retained humidity and facilitated water evaporation and transpiration. Yet they also consumed much of the water they helped to bring to the meseta. Trees blocked a good deal of the rainfall and used the water to produce their own food (water being a key element of photosynthesis), thus limiting the formation of large bodies of water, especially in the upper lands. The relatively high degree of porosity and drainage of the soils of the meseta (composed to a great extent of volcanic materials) further impeded the accumulation of surface water in loftier areas. These soils retained plenty of nutrients (and thus were suitable for cultivation), but they also accelerated water infiltration. The water that forest trees did not block or consume permeated the forest ground. The elevation and inclination of the terrain then caused water to run down. As a result, much of this water was either lost or ended up recharging the Complimentary Contributor Copy Land, Forest, and Pueblos in the Meseta Purépecha, 1869-1911 181 bodies of water of lower lands. Indeed, all the most important rivers and streams of the meseta were located in its less elevated areas. By contrast, its loftier areas had but a number of minor springs. Furthermore, spread across mountains and hills, many of these springs were gradually emptied after the end of the wet season (Fefer, 2007 pp.3-10; Ávila, 1996; Pérez, 1872 pp.28-35). Water distribution thus divided the meseta into two distinct areas. On the one hand, there were the upper lands where the lack of water forced people to depend on seasonal rains and where there was generally only one harvest a year. As a result, economic activities were to an important degree oriented to self-subsistence and trade conducted on a small scale. Corn was the main crop, but cultivation of fruits and vegetables provided essential additional earnings. Wheat, however, was also of great importance and some pueblos engaged in its trade beyond local markets. The manufacture of wooden products was equally significant and in some cases, as in the pueblo of Paracho, probably as significant as agricultural activities. Overall, places such as Cherán, Nahuatzen, and Charapan were representatives of the pueblos of the upper meseta. On the other hand, there was the lower meseta where there were plenty rivers and streams and where irrigation was thus possible. In fact, people either combined irrigation and nonirrigation agriculture or, as in the upper meseta, exclusively relied on seasonal rains to plant their crops. When practiced, irrigation allowed more than one harvest a year. Corn was the main crop, but wheat was a close second and the scale of production tended to be larger. Cultivation of fruits and vegetables was also widely extended, but unlike in the upper meseta coffee was also extensively grown. Furthermore, in the lowermost areas to the south, bordering the tierra caliente, crops such as indigo and sugarcane were commonly planted. Trade connections were wide, although long-distance trade was for the most part limited to other regions within or in the surroundings of Michoacán. Places such as Tancítaro, Los Reyes, and the city of Uruapan (the main settlement of the region) were characteristic of the lower meseta (Velasco, 1895 pp.163-176; Romero, 1862; Rodríguez, 1873). The water imbalance of the meseta resulted in an equally uneven distribution of landed properties across the region. As a rule, ranchos and haciendas had been conveniently positioned next or close to rivers and streams. Not surprisingly, most of them were located in the lower meseta. Water scarcity inhibited the formation of large landed properties in the upper meseta where there were virtually no major estates. Ranchos were also less numerous there. As a result, competition over land and water between pueblos, haciendas, and ranchos was substantially greater in the lower meseta. By comparison, antagonisms between neighboring pueblos over land boundaries tended to be more important in the upper meseta. Things, however, were commonly more complicated. Pueblos, both in the upper and the lower meseta, also owned ranchos, some of which of significant value. Likewise, there were antagonisms between neighboring pueblos in the lower meseta and disputes between local landowners, smallholders, and pueblos in the upper meseta. Haciendas and ranchos predominated in the lower meseta, but most of them were mid-size properties sustaining midscale productions; they were, at any rate, modest businesses compared to the highly profitable southern haciendas of tierra caliente. What is more, ranchos and not haciendas were in fact and by far the main and more numerous agricultural unit of the meseta—a pattern that actually mirrored that of the state of Michoacán, nation-wide one of the three states with more ranchos during the nineteenth century and early twentieth century (Martinez de Lejarza, 1974; Meyer, 1986 pp.477-509). Complimentary Contributor Copy 182 Fernando Pérez Montesinos Similarly, the relationship between landed properties and pueblos was not simply one of confrontation. Ranchos and haciendas also provided seasonal labor to many Purépecha families. As pointed out, many pueblos depended on only one harvest of corn a year, resorting to other auxiliary activities was crucial; hence the importance of woodworking, handcrafting, planting additional crops such as wheat or coffee, and keeping domestic fruit and vegetable gardens. Seasonal migration to nearby cities and centers of production represented yet another way to procure the annual sustenance of families. The haciendas of tierra caliente were a common destination for many rural laborers of the meseta. Due to its characteristic low population, the tierra caliente chronically lacked the manpower required by its highly commercial sugar and rice producing haciendas. People were drawn to these haciendas because they offered comparatively higher wages and because the harvest season in tierra caliente (precisely the time when more hands were needed) coincided with the months of less activity in the meseta—that is, when the corn cycle was over. The wheat- and corn-producing haciendas of the meseta also required additional workers, but they offered something else too: land. Indeed, cash tenancy and sharecropping were common practice among many landowners in the meseta. It was an inexpensive way of putting to work lands that would otherwise remain uncultivated and it offered tenants and sharecroppers certain security and control over the production (Chowning, 1999; Sánchez, 2008; Pureco, 2010; Tutino, 1986). The combination of primary and auxiliary activities covered the basic necessities of most Purépecha families. In fact, it did more than that. It also contributed to create certain social stratification within pueblos in the meseta. Social differences were less visible in small localities such as Anagahuan where resources were distributed more or less evenly. In larger pueblos, however, such as Nahuatzen or Parangaricutiro disparities became more noticeable. As a rule, each pueblo had a group of families and notables whose lands and additional resources (for instance, livestock) were comparatively sounder. The members of these families frequently occupied the highest ranks within the civic-religious hierarchy of pueblos. They also had wider political and economic connections and some occupied local government posts. Overall, their influence was decisive to resolve local problems and decide over public affairs. Competition between two or more of such families, as well, regularly resulted in internal divisions and tensions (Purnell, 1999 pp.85-121; Roseberry, 2004 pp.43-84). Differences among pueblos were also important. While all pueblos relied on a similar tripartite land base, some had greater resources than others. The uneven distribution of water sources, for instance, gave pueblos in the lower meseta certain advantages, competition on the part of haciendas and ranchos notwithstanding. Access to water potentially meant access to irrigation and thus better annual yields. Pueblos in the lower meseta also tended to have larger forested areas and additional lands. The Purépecha community of Tancítaro, one of the southernmost settlements of the meseta bordering tierra caliente, was known for its relative sound resources, including many ranchos. The indigenous barrios or quarters of the city of Uruapan collectively held important stretches of forests and arable lands. In contrast, communities such as Ziracuaretiro in Taretan struggled to keep their land base together against local haciendas. Overall, a handful of pueblos enjoyed a securer and more solid position and presided over dozens of other lesser localities. The ascendancy of these pueblos was officially sanctioned by local administrative categories which divided pueblos into head towns or cabeceras, on one hand, and dependent settlements known as tenancies or tenencias, Complimentary Contributor Copy Land, Forest, and Pueblos in the Meseta Purépecha, 1869-1911 183 on the other—a division that echoed a similar one under the Spanish rule (Cortés, 2012; Sánchez, 2010; Miranda, 1979; González and Ortiz, 1980). Contrasts and differences between and within pueblos were not, in sum, strange to the meseta. These differences, however, must not be exaggerated. They were, indeed, structural and a product of centuries of land politics and environmental conditions. Gaps between pueblos and among community members mattered and were often decisive in determining local power asymmetries. Yet they were small when compared to the gaps between pueblos and the economic and political elites of Michoacán and Mexico. Local disparities and conflicts, at any rate, were not deep enough so as to turn everyday disagreements into fullscale disputes. That is precisely what the reparto contributed to change. THE FIRST REPARTO AND ITS CONSEQUENCES The process of reparto, as pointed out earlier, took place in two distinct phases in the meseta. The first one started in 1869, just after the end of the French intervention in Mexico (1864-1868) and it continued until the mid-1880s, when the construction of the railway network in Michoacán began. The second phase started in the early 1890s and continued until the beginning of the Mexican Revolution. Each of these two phases had its own characteristics and responded to different, although related, causes. Both, at any rate, were products of an unprecedented combination of events and forces. Conventional explanations of the process of reparto commonly ascribe a somewhat disproportionate role to liberal ideas and laws. Ideologies and legal changes alone, however, cannot grasp the full scope of this process. One must also tie liberal principles and policies to other equally important factors. Three of them are of particular interest to explain the first phase of reparto in the meseta. First, the political consolidation of liberals after decades of struggles and conflicts; second, the impact of population growth upon pueblos and families; finally, a set of fiscal policies which accompanied the reparto policy. The legal and ideological bases of liberal land policies had been established during the second half of the eighteenth century and the early nineteenth century, under the Bourbon rule and during the Cádiz Cortes period. After decades of debates, a group of officials and reformers both in Spain and Spanish America concluded that the best way to reactivate the economy and agriculture of the empire was by means of turning public and corporate lands into private hands (dominio particular). The goal was to increase productivity and discourage land concentration. Individual landholders, it was argued, naturally showed greater responsibility for and had greater interest in making the most of their lands. This would promote competition and spur productivity. More productivity meant larger profits and larger profits ultimately meant more income for the Crown in the form of taxes. Land policies, thus, should remove any obstacle to favor the personal interest of cultivators. The ideal was to leave no land idle and no man without land. It was, indeed, a major ideological departure from the long-standing canon which ascribed corporate land rights a central role in keeping both the economy and the social order together (Del Campillo y Cosío, 1779; Rodríguez, 1765; De Jovellanos, 1795). Such a shift, however, would entail neglecting the right of municipalities to possess and manage landed properties, including indigenous municipalities—known in Spanish America Complimentary Contributor Copy 184 Fernando Pérez Montesinos as repúblicas de indios. In part because it feared this would cause social discontent in a time when international wars loomed, the Crown only adopted part of the reforming program. The land rights of indigenous municipalities would remain in place, but the Crown would exert greater control over municipal finances and the way repúblicas utilized their lands. Pueblos were forced to rent their common lands, reduce expenses, and transfer their earnings to fiscal officials who would decide when and how common funds would be used. It was a compromise between the Crown‘s urgent need for more revenues and the equally pressing need of keeping indigenous people peaceful. The great imperial crisis of 1808 provided reformers with the opportunity to push for a more radical land policy. In 1813, a decree of the Cadiz Cortes (a legislative body governing in the name of the king, who had been forcibly held by Napoleon) granted all vacant and common lands to individual proprietors. The decree, however, had little or no practical impact. The ongoing state of war on both sides of the Atlantic and the subsequent downfall of the Cortes annulled all the legal changes that had been done during the absence of the king (Tanck, 1999 pp.185-195, 213-232). Right after independence, having collapsed an attempt to constitute a Mexican empire, many of the states of the recently founded federal republic (1824) took up again the reforming ideal of the Bourbons and the Cadiz Cortes. Local congresses all across the land enacted la