Just a few decades ago, Ethiopia was a country defined by its
famines, particularly between 1983-1985 when in excess of half a million
people starved to death as a consequence of drought, crop failure and a
brutal civil war
Against this backdrop, it is impressive that in recent years,
Ethiopia has been experiencing stellar economic growth.
The headline
statistics are certainly remarkable: the country is creating
millionaires faster than any other in Africa; output from farming,
Ethiopia’s dominant industry, has tripled in a decade; the capital Addis
Ababa is experiencing a massive construction boom; and the last six
years have seen the nation’s GDP grow by a staggering 108 percent.
But it is not all positive news, because for all the good figures there are still plenty of bad ones.
Around 90 percent of the population of 87 million still suffers from
numerous deprivations, ranging from insufficient access to education to
inadequate health care; average incomes are still well below $1500 a
year; and more than 30 million people still face chronic food shortages.
And while there are a number of positive and genuine reasons for the
growth spurt – business and legislative reforms, more professional
governance, the achievements of a thriving service sector – many critics
say that the growth seen in agriculture, which accounts for almost half
of Ethiopia’s economic activity and a great deal of its recent success,
is actually being driven by an out of control ‘land grab’, as
multinational companies and private speculators vie to lease millions
of acres of the country’s most fertile territory from the government at
bargain basement prices.
At the ministry of agriculture in Addis Ababa, this land-lease
programme is often described as a “win-win” because it brings in new
technologies and employment and, supposedly, makes it easier to improve
health care, education and other services in rural areas.
“Ethiopia needs to develop to fight poverty, increase food supplies
and improve livelihoods and is doing so in a sustainable way,” said one
official.
But according to a host of NGO’s and policy advocates, including
Oxfam, Human Rights Watch and the Oakland Institute, the true
consequences of the land grabs are almost all negative. They say that in
order to make such huge areas available for foreign investors to grow
foodstuffs and bio-fuels for export – and in direct contravention of
Ethiopia’s obligations under international law – the authorities are
displacing hundreds of thousands of indigenous peoples, abusing their
human rights, destroying their traditions, trashing the environment, and
making them more dependent on food aid than ever before.
“The benefits for the local populations are very little,” said
renowned Ethiopian sociologist Dessalegn Rahmato. “They’ve taken away
their land. They’ve taken away their natural resource, because these
investors are clearing the land, destroying the forest, cutting down the
trees. The government claims that one of the aims of this investment
was to enable local areas to benefit by investing in infrastructure,
social services … but these benefits are not included in the contract.
It’s only left up to the magnanimity of the investor.”
And those investors, he continued, are simply not interested in
anything other than serving their own needs: “They can grow any crop
they want, when they want it, they can sell in any market they want,
whether it’s a global market or a local market. In fact most of them are
not interested in the local markets.”
He cited as an example a massive Saudi-owned plantation in the
fertile Gambella region of south west Ethiopia, a prime target area for
investors: “They have 10,000 hectares and they are producing rice. This
rice is going to be exported to the Middle East, to Saudi Arabia and
other places. The local people in that area don’t eat rice.”
But the most controversial element of the government’s programme is
known as ‘villagisation’ – the displacement of people from land they
have occupied for generations and their subsequent resettlement in
artificial communities.
In Gambella, where two ethnic groups, the Anuaks and the Nuers,
predominate, it has meant tens of thousands of people have been forced
to abandon a traditional way of life. One such is Moot, an Anuak farmer
who now lives in a government village far from his home.
“When investors showed up, we were told to pack up our things and to
go to the village. If we had decided not to go, they would have
destroyed our crops, our houses and our belongings. We couldn’t even
claim compensation because the government decided that those lands
belonged to the investors. We were scared … if you get upset and say
that someone stole your land, you are put in prison. If you complain
about being arrested, they will kill you. It’s not our land anymore; we
have been deprived of our rights.”
Despite growing internal opposition and international criticism, the
Ethiopian government shows no sign of scaling the programme back.
According to the Oakland Institute, since 2008, an area the size of
France has already been handed over to foreign corporations. Over the
next few years an area twice that size is thought to be earmarked for
leasing to investors.
So what does all this mean for the people on the ground? In Ethiopia – Land for Sale, filmmakers Veronique Mauduy and Romain Pelleray try and find out.
Source-www.ethiomedia.com
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