Linked Literature: Land Use Conflicts, Risk Perception and Place Identity and the rural Queensland anti-CSG movement

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Source: Doug Beckers

Wester-Herber, M., 2004. Underlying concerns in land-use conflicts—the role of place-identity in risk perception. Environmental Science & Policy, 7(2), pp.109–116.

Discussions about land-use conflicts have a high capacity for becoming entrenched in polarising caricatures: with the landowners and community being portrayed as NIMBYists whose concerns are both illogical (not based in an appropriate understanding of the scientific risks) and selfish, as their opposition may prevent wider non-localised benefit (i.e. royalties, jobs). Misse Wester-Herber’s work on the role of place identity in risk perception provides a useful lens for considering the growth of the anti-coal seam gas (CSG) movement in rural farming communities in Queensland.

Context

Wester-Herber begins by noting that land-use conflicts often take place within the arena of risk communication,

“where…[the agent responsible for change] involves parts of the affected public or stakeholders and exchanges information about health, safety or environmental risks or information concerning decisions or policies aimed at controlling these risks” (Wester-Herber 2004, p.109).

These exchanges are built on the notion that “if only the public were given the right information, conflicts over risk could be resolved” (Wester-Herber 2004, p.109). However, this approach has not succeeded in reducing land-use conflicts; Wester-Herber argues that it is because risk perception, particularly around environmental change, is a far more complex process that involves more than perceived risks to health and safety (2004, p. 110).

Risk Perception – background

Theories around risk perception attempt to consider why risks are perceived differently by different groups. Wester-Herber focuses first on how the presence of ‘dread’ and the ‘unknown’ increase the perception of risk (2004, p. 110). At a basic level, these factors apply well to community fears around CSG:

  • Dread: the perceived possibility of contamination of the Great Artesian Basin, which would result in catastrophic (widespread and significant) consequences for water resources in Queensland
  • ‘The Unknown’: this dread is amplified by the:
    • Perceived lack of data that disproves the possibility of the above outcome
    • The refusal to disclose the formula of chemical formulas involved in CSG operations

On a deeper level, risk can be considered to be constructed of two parts: hazard and outrage. Hazard refers to the technical probabilities and magnitude of a risk, while outrage refers to non-technical factors, such as fairness, whether the risk is voluntary, or if the risk is seen to be unnatural (manufactured – man-made) (Wester-Herber 2004, p.110). Again, the debate around CSG, particularly for farmers, aligns well with the non-technical factors raised:

  • Fairness: farmers and the community are seen to bear a higher level of risk and impacts; the risk of water contamination risks their very livelihood and in the case of widespread contamination the region’s food security, while the installation of wells disrupts their livelihood.
  • Voluntariness: a considerable portion of the movement has focused on how CSG exploration and extraction on farmer’s land is ultimately an involuntary process.
  • Unnatural: CSG extraction is seen to be invasive and ultimately unnatural – it involves complex processes and chemicals (technologies) that are injected into a natural (literally and symbolically) environment.

Stigma and Risk Perception

According to Wester-Herber,

stigmatisation describes the process where “something is considered to be a risk or hazard turns into… ‘something to be shunned or avoided not just because it is hazardous, but because it overturns or destroys a position condition’ (Wester-Herber 2004, p.111).  Further stigma can be carried over to an individual, where ‘people can suffer damage to their identity just by being associated with a place (Wester-Herber 2004, p.111).

In this way, stigma acts similarly to Mary Douglas’ theory of purity and pollution, whereby contact with the polluted object in turn has the potential to pollute the contactee.  Wester-Herber goes on to note that places are symbolic and the product of individual experience and ongoing social interpretation – often facilitated through media and secondary information (Weter-Herber, p111).

Wester-Herber’s discussion of stigmatisation is of considerable relevance to understanding anti-CSG sentiment in rural areas. CSG extraction is a polluted activity through:

  • The risk of contamination of water resources
  • The crossing of boundaries – the injection urban industrialised symbols into the rural landscape.

Further, considering how people can become contaminated through contact with stigmatised sources has significance for establishing positive relationships with resource actors. Widespread community anti-CSG activity is likely to create social capital based on a joined resistance to this intrusion. This draws important questions of the social repercussions for people who chose to form beneficial relationships with resource actors, such as farmers. In these instances, do they then become ‘polluted’ through their non-adversarial contact with resource actors in the eyes of the broader (but often small) rural communities? Further, does the threat of social exclusion and personal revilement at becoming contaminated through contact present additional barriers to creating mutually beneficial relationships with resource actors? Finally, as Wester-Herber notes, stigmatisation has a continued impact on environments, even after the removal of the source of contamination. This raises the question of how to effectively compensate landowners for the use of surface land for CSG activities.

Place identity

The crux of Wester-Herber’s argument focuses on how place plays an important role for identity creation, and therefore how changes to the physical environment affect ‘place’. The following table aligns a high level view of rural farming identities with anti-CSG rhetoric (where applicable) against three of Wester-Herber’s place driven identity formation principles

Distinctiveness

“Being unique or distinguishing us from others. The importance of place for the distinctiveness of an individual provides…membership to a particular group that provides positive reinforcements” (Wester-Herber 2004, p.112).

A common heurism in anti-CSG rhetoric in Queensland centres around how the area is ‘prime agricultural land’ as opposed to other areas that are affected by mineral and energy resource development.

Further, farming identity is often strongly linked to anti-CSG rhetoric. For example, in my last post about the CSG rally, many speakers introduced themselves as farmers. Here, a farming identity can be seen as a motivation and qualifier for anti-CSG activity.

Continuity

Places can act as a link to the self-identity, and maintenance of this link can provide a sense of continuity to identity…this becomes important in communities where on lives and works on the same land that one’s parents or grandparents did (Wester-Herber 2004, p.112)..

Similarly, many farmers affected by CSG often refer to their continuity with the land. For example, one farmer reacted as follows when he was told there would CSG activity on his land “

I put my head in my hands and I cried. Thirty-five years of Lighthouse, 35 years that I’ve devoted every extra penny that I earn, and it was all coming tumbling down around my ears” (Courtney 2010).

Self-efficacy

The belief of having the ability to respond to different situations. The environment should not prevent but instead facilitate a person’s lifestyle.

That farmer’s identity is strongly related to the self-efficacy of land. For farmers, the land is the ultimate facilitator of their lifestyle – it is often both home and employer/ee – it provides and is ruled over. A common discussion in anti-CSG rhetoric centres on how CSG activity on farming land disrupts and threatens farming activity.

Given the above, anti-CSG activity in rural Queensland is hardly surprising. Further, that scientific discussions are viewed with suspicion or dismissed may not only be related to traditional risk concerns around the unknown and dread, but also be borne from the perceived risks and impacts on rural place based identity.

References

Courtney, P., 2010. Pipe Dreams. Landline. Available at: http://www.abc.net.au/landline/content/2010/s2888078.htm [Accessed September 2, 2012].

Wester-Herber, M., 2004. Underlying concerns in land-use conflicts—the role of place-identity in risk perception. Environmental Science & Policy, 7(2), pp.109–116.

What attending an anti-CSG rally taught me – communities now expect Generation 3 engagement processes

Organised by Lock the Gate alliance and GetUp and chaired by Alan Jones, the recent Food Security Forum contained rhetoric and attendance from both sides of the political sphere. While this movement’s blend of environmentalists and farmers appear to be strange bedfellows, many of the issues raised by the speakers should come with little shock to community engagement practitioners with experience in the resources industry.

While the four speakers, all women located throughout the State, spoke to localised concerns, there was an overwhelming thread that appeared in all speeches: the desire for a transparent, two-way engagement process. From Ruth Armstrong, who spoke about having to “take the responsibility to push DERM to take action” around dust and noise complaints to Heidi Ross who criticised a perceived lack of transparency and demanded proper consultation, the Forum demonstrated how communities have come to expect and now demand Generation 3 engagement practices.

Indeed, having attended the Forum and returned home to review the Generational framework, I was struck how the heurisms of various speakers reflected the framework so succinctly. People now want transparent and open access to information that assesses the risks and impacts to their community. The desire for transparency goes beyond the need for access to the often substantial (1000s of pages) EIAs replete with inaccessible and alienating language and diagrams. Rather, people want to be provided with an understanding of the possible impacts on their community and environment in a way that is direct and easily consumed. Similarly, speakers demanded ‘real’ consultation –  where they are listened to and their concerns acted upon.

Obviously, it is hard to assess the on-ground work of various resources companies through the narrative of protest speakers.  However, it appears that the present anti-CSG/mining activity is as much concerned with not just what companies are doing, but how they are going about it.

Land acquisition and resettlement

One of the well known and criticised impacts of mines is that of land acquisition and involuntary resettlement. Mines, like other large development projects (particularly dams) often involve the assumption of large tracts of land.

Resettlement (whether it is involuntary or not) is an issue that affects millions worldwide. For example, in India alone, more than twenty million people were displaced between 1950-1980, while between 40-45 million were resettled in China between 1950 and 2000 (Cernea 2003, 6). While the majority of these displacements were a result of hydro-power generation projects, extractive projects have certainly been a contributor. Further, some commentators suggest that resettlement as a result of mining will expand in the future, due to the growth in open-cast mining based on the exploitation of larger tonnage, lower grade deposits.

Resettlement – problematic outcomes

Based on past studies, it would be easy to assume that resettlement is inherently linked to further impoverishment. Evidence has found the resettlement is associated with the following fundamental and recurrent risks:

    • Landlessness
    • Joblessness
    • Homelessness
    • Marginalisation
    • Increased morbidity and mortality
    • Educational losses
    • Food insecurity
    • Loss of common property

(Cernea 1997, 2000, 2003 16).

Many commentators on these outcomes may argue that these outcomes are of governmental concern and responsibility. However, despite the truth in this, ensuring that appropriate resettlement practice is adhered to is increasingly becoming a concern and indeed a responsibility of the private sector.

The reasons for this are twofold:

  • The private sector is often in a position where the acting government has ineffective systems in place in relation to resettlement. This inadequacy ranges right from the beginning of the process, with ineffective (or non-existent) land titling and property ownership systems through to the ‘end game’ of resettlement.
  • As a result of governmental inadequacy, companies often assume a quasi-governmental role, in essence becoming the agent of land tenure change. Consequentially, the company then inherits the responsibilities associated with resettlement in the eyes of local and international stakeholders. Further, this responsibility in enhanced through the concept of CSR, whereby companies are considered responsible for the social outcomes of projects.

Indeed, issues surrounding land resettlement have at times assumed a key role in company-community conflict in the mining sector. The now (in)famous company-community conflict at Minera Yanacocha South America (MYSA) remains a case in point.

The Minera Yanacocha South America (MYSA) is the largest gold producer in South America and was the first foreign-owned mine in Peru (Newmont Mining Corporation 2011). MYSA has been the subject of an intense amount of conflict and criticism over the majority of the mine’s life, despite the vast amount of wealth it has generated for the region and the government.

Amongst other issues, resettlement and land acquisition have been a driving force of the conflict from the onset (Bebbington et al. 2008, 19). The early land acquisition process is widely acknowledged as flawed: MYSA virtually acted as the agent of land tenure change, rushing communities through the process and resorting to expropriation and evictions in instances of community resistance (Bury 2005, 231–232). These practices (which have since been changed)[1] resulted in several lawsuits and were responsible for a number of the early eruptions of violence (Bury 2002, 12–13). The complaints around resettlement also argue that land holders have not been able to replace their previous land, due to a reduction in land availability and the resultant inflation of land values in the region (Bury 2002, 12–13)[2].

The complaints noted above point to a recurring issue noted in the literature on resettlement: that cash based compensation at its best does not genuinely compensate land holders and at its worst results in increased impoverishment (Cernea 2003; Maldonado 2009). Indeed as Cernea notes:

Evidence demonstrates irrefutably that the purchasing power of cash compensation typically ends up being less than necessary to repurchase the assets lost (even if compensation is paid at replacement costs).

The transaction costs, production time wasted, start-up costs etc all eat at compensation value. Further, various cultural pressures and immediate needs often divert compensation proceeds away from asset replacement. Land markets are limited, prices go up, worth of compensation goes down.

At the end of the day, the need to resettle populations for infrastructure, hydro, and mining project is not going to diminish. However, ineffective and flawed resettlement practices and the resultant (and costly) company-community conflicts need not.

Got ideas on best practice for resettlement? Comment and share your thoughts.

Bebbington, Anthony, Denise Humphreys Bebbington, Jeffrey Bury, Jeannet Lingan, Juan Pablo Muñoz, and Martin Scurrah. 2008. ‘Mining and Social Movements: Struggles Over Livelihood and Rural Territorial Development in the Andes’. World Development 36 (12). World Development: 2888–2905.

Bury, Jeff. 2002. ‘Livelihoods, Mining and Peasant Protests in the Peruvian Andes’. Journal of Latin American Geography 1: 1–19.

Bury, Jeffrey. 2005. ‘Mining Mountains: Neoliberalism, Land Tenure, Livelihoods, and the New Peruvian Mining Industry in Cajamarca’. Environment and Planning A 37 (2): 221 – 239. doi:10.1068/a371.

Cernea, M M. 2003. ‘For a New Economics of Resettlement: a Sociological Critique of the Compensation Principle’. International Social Science Journal 55 (175): 1–2. doi:10.1111/1468-2451.5501019_3.

Downing, Theodore. 2002. Avoiding New Poverty: Mining-Induced Displacement and Resettlement. Mining, Minerals and Sustainable Development & The International Institute for Environment and Development.

Environmentally and Socially Sustainable Development Department – Latin America and Caribbean Region. 2006. Republic of Peru – Wealth and Sustainability: The Environmental and Social Dimensions of the Mining Sector in Peru. The World Bank.

Maldonado, Julie Koppel. 2009. ‘Putting a Price-Tag on Humanity: Development-Forced Displaced Communities’ Fight for More Than Just Compensation’. Hydro Nepal Journal of Water Energy and Environment 4 (4): 18–20. doi:10.3126/hn.v4i0.1817.

Newmont Mining Corporation. 2011. ‘The South America Region’. Newmont Mining.

Quiroz-Onate, Diego. 2008. ‘Newmont Mining Corporation: Embedding Human Rights Through the Five Star Management Program’. United Kingdom: The Robert Gordon University.

Whellams, Melissa. 2007. ‘The Role of CSR in Development: a Case Study Involving the Mining Industry in South America’. Masters, Nova Scotia: Saint Mary’s University.


[1] MYSA established an ‘Original Landowners Program’ in 2001 that was designed to assist resettled families (Whellams 2007, 57).

[2] It should also be noted that land acquisition in Peru is complicated by a complex and often poor legal framework; land is often owned communally in rural areas and despite the introduction of titling for these areas decades ago, many communities do not currently have the titles to their land (Environmentally and Socially Sustainable Development Department – Latin America and Caribbean Region 2006, 106)

Free, Prior and Informed Consent and the Extractive Industry

Protesting in the Highway, John Donaghy

Since becoming an international standard in non-binding law, free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC) has been increasingly recognised by major actors in the extractive industry, such as Rio Tinto, Anglo American Alcan, and Xstrata. Despite this, the industry as a whole has not endorsed FPIC and has publicly stated reservations in regards to the principle and its implementation. However, FPIC is arguably a necessary component of the CSR agenda for the extractive industry, as it acts as both a fundamental tool of good engagement practice and aides to mitigate the social risk imbedded in projects that neighbor Indigenous Peoples.

What is FPIC?

FPIC is the principle that Indigenous Peoples’ have the right grant or withhold their FPIC in relation to the development of extractive projects that will affect their lands and livelihood. Specifically:

  • ‘free’ = Indigenous Peoples’ are not coerced
  • ‘prior’ = consent is sought before the initiation of development activities.
  • ‘informed’ =  Indigenous Peoples’ are provided with full information in regards to the project, including negative impacts, in a manner that they comprehend and understand.

Importantly, the FPIC process differs from consultation, in that it places Indigenous Peoples’ in a position of authority over the project’s development. In contrast, consultation only requires that companies engage with communities, and address their concerns. Increasingly, the principle of FPIC is being implemented by companies as the risk of not implementing this process is seen to be too great.

Why do it?

Put simply, the FPIC process is becoming an integral principle in corporate social responsibility (CSR) programmes because previous consultative methods have failed to prevent costly community opposition. Indeed, despite the growth of the CSR agenda in the extractive industry in the last twenty years, it appears that community opposition has grown simultaneously.

Instances of mines either being temporarily or permanently shut-down because of community actions abound, which can be interpreted as physical manifestations on non-consent. For example, in 2006, Esquel was forced to abandon the Argentinean Esquel Gold Project, resulting in $378.9 million written off of Esquel’s balance sheet, in addition to a loss of $1.81 billion (est) in reserves (Herz, La Vina, and Sohn 2007).[1]

In the past, companies have attempted to respond to community opposition through engagement, consultation, and philanthropic programmes. However, communities’ responses have neither been systematic or desired. This is arguably a result of the fact that these programmes are not meeting the core or root causes of opposition. Indeed, surveying a range of studies on community opposition, Laplante and Spears found that the central issue of the majority of complaints from communities in regards to extractive industry projects concentrated on the lack of consultation and consent sought by the company (Laplante and Spears 2008).

In contrast, the process of gaining a communities’ FPIC arguably results in a stronger social license to operate, that in turn presents real financial benefits to companies. Indeed, Shell estimates that through engaging in a FPIC process for the Malampaya project cost approximately $6 million, while accruing $50 to $70 million in avoided expenditure and fast-tracked production.  

FPIC – Legal Status

The divergence in opinions on FPIC in regards to the extractive projects begins with issues around its legal status. The legal concept of FPIC is based on a number of international instruments, jurisprudence, and human rights standards. These include:

  • the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples’(2007) (Declaration)
  •  a binding judgment by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (Saramaka People (2007)(Weitzner 2009)),
  • the International Labor Office’s (ILO) Convention No. 169, Concerning the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries (1989).

Advocates point to these instruments and argue that the right of Indigenous Peoples’ to give FPIC is now universally recognised under international law. (Weitzner 2009; Herz, La Vina, and Sohn 2007). In contrast, opponents to the implementation of FPIC, such as the International Council on Mining and Metals’ (ICMM) John Mitchell argue that the FPIC is not a universal legal requirement: rather, it is, ‘a requirement in only a small number of jurisdictions’ (Mitchell 2004). In truth, the legal status of FPIC rights for Indigenous Peoples’ lies somewhere in between.

At present, the only binding instrument that recognises FPIC rights for Indigenous Peoples’ is the ILO Convention No. 169, which has only been ratified by 22 countries, as shown in Figure 1 (Chan 2008).

Figure 1: Global ratification of ILO Convention No. 169

Source: (Maziotis 2010)

Further to this, the Convention does not provide for FPIC in cases where the state owns mineral or sub-surface resources; however, in such instances, Indigenous Peoples’ are given the right to consultation, participation in benefits, and fair compensation (International Labour Office 1989). In contrast, the right to FPIC for Indigenous Peoples’ is provided for in the Declaration, although it is a non-binding legal instrument.

Despite its status as ‘soft law’, the Declaration, which has been endorsed by 147 countries, is reflective of social expectations globally, and very well may start to affect domestic legal frameworks in the future (Lehr and Smith 2010). Indeed, as Lehr and Smith note, there exists a risk that that the right to FPIC may be implemented and be applied retroactively, which would ‘affect existing company concessions’ considerably (2010). On this basis, it becomes clear that the current soft status of FPIC is largely irrelevant, as both the risk of future implementation and increasing awareness of the concept socially, demands that companies begin to implement FPIC processes in their dealings with Indigenous Peoples’.

Incompatibility with state sovereignty

In a related issue, opponents of FPIC argue that the principle of FPIC is inconsistent with a state’s sovereignty over natural resources (Buxton 2010; ICMM 2003; Perrault, Herbetson, and Lynch 2007). While states generally hold sovereignty over natural resources, it is important to note that a state’s authority to manage these is constrained by both the Declaration and other human rights conventions. Indeed, as Weitzner notes,

‘a company failing to ensure FPIC is implemented in such a context may be opening itself and the country’s government to a potential court challenge (2009).

Further, through not implementing a FPIC process, companies increase the risk that they will encounter various physical manifestations of non-consent, as addressed earlier in this essay.

Right to veto

Perhaps the key issue for opponents of FPIC is the matter of ongoing consent, or more bluntly, the right of Indigenous Peoples’ to say ‘no’ during the project cycle. Recognising FPIC as a right may result in companies having to abandon projects. In the initial instance, this may in fact result in better outcome for companies, wherein they do not invest in projects that they may have to abandon at significant loss in the future (Lehr and Smith 2010; Laplante and Spears 2008). More importantly, the issue of withdrawal of consent during the project life-cycle is arguably a greater cause of concern for companies. However, in this instance, one must first consider that consent acts as a formalised representation of a social license to operate, and ‘any license that is authorised can also be revoked if the rules are not followed’ (Weitzner 2009). Furthermore, current research demonstrates that rather than increasing instances of project shut-downs, FPIC processes tend to decrease such instances. Indeed, as noted earlier, there are a variety of ways for a community to demonstrate non-consent, many of which are incredibly costly for the companies involved.

Finally, opponents argue that FPIC is simply too difficult to operationalise. Indeed, by the very nature of FPIC, there will never be a clear cut process map that can be effectively implemented across all sites, because no two communities are exactly the same. Specifically, the greatest challenges to the process are identifying consent givers and the intricacy of ensuring that the consent is informed.

Practical implementation – an insurmountable task?

While guidelines are clear in that they state that consent should be derived consensually from a community in accordance with traditional customs, one of the greatest difficulties in obtaining consent in this instance is ensuring that minorities within the community and minoritised communities as a whole are given the capacity to grant or withhold their consent. In regards to gaining consent from minorities within a community, a major road-block to overcome in the FPIC process is ensuring that women, who often hold lower social status in traditional communities, or whose societal functions prevent them from participating in the FPIC process are included (Macintyre 2003)[2]. However, to argue that including minorities within a community is solely an issue for the FPIC, rather than CSR practices as whole is disingenuous. Identifying and engaging minorities is recognised as an issue within a wide variety of CSR practices and processes. Indeed, there are a range of tools and processes for ensuring companies adequately engage with minorities, such as women.[3]

Similarly, the issue in regards to engaging Indigenous communities as whole when they are often minoritised points to an ongoing reality for CSR practice, rather than an indictment on the validity of the FPIC process. The fact that companies may have to build the capacity of affected communities is becoming an operational reality in the extractive industry (IUCN-ICMM Dialogue on Mining and Biodiversity 2008). While ensuring capacity may lengthen the early stages of the project cycle, it is important to note that an investment in a community prior to exploration helps protect a company’s later and much larger investment during construction and production.

Ensuring that communities are able to provide informed consent is a hurdle, but it is not an insurmountable one. Macintyre rightly notes that communicating the environmental and social impacts of extractive projects to communities is highly problematic, particularly in instances where a community has had no prior exposure to the extractive industry (Macintyre 2003). However, as with engaging minority groups, the burden of adequately informing a community is not unique to the FPIC process, but is an issue for CSR practice as a whole. And again, companies are presented with a range of options for effectively communicating with the affected communities. As has been noted earlier, in this instance, there will never be an off-the-shelf solution for this process, and it will often need to be tailored according to the capacity and knowledge of the community in question. However, examples of effective communication abound. For example, for the Camisea oil project, Shell utilised bilingual written material, a website, participatory workshops, posters, videos, pictures, and scale models to inform the community of the project’s scope and impact (Environmental Law Institute 2003)

Evidently, the arguments against FPIC are neither unique to the principle itself, nor insurmountable. The process of FPIC offers companies a formalised manner in which to engage in communities. Indeed, through engaging in FPIC with affected Indigenous Peoples, companies can both solidify their social licence to operate and reduce the risks involved in operating in developing countries. The legal status of FPIC, while non-binding, is at the very least, an indication of things to come, and more presently, reflective of wider social expectations that are placed on actors when dealing with Indigenous Peoples. While it is possible to argue that companies are not legally obligated to implement FPIC, companies will increasingly find themselves judged on their implementation (or lack thereof) of the principle, by Indigenous Peoples and the wider international forum. Similarly, it is a given that implementing FPIC is complex, time consuming, and places an onus on companies to engage and build the capacity of Indigenous communities and minorities within them. However, without doing so,  companies invite the very real risk that communities will demonstrate their non-consent by engaging in action to prevent the company from operating.

Further, the issues that are identified in operationalising FPIC are inherent in engaging with Indigenous Peoples, and will not disappear if the right to FPIC does. On this basis, FPIC represents a growing necessity to the CSR and operating agendas of the extractive industry.

Bibliography

Buxton, Abbi. 2010. Democratic Pragmatism or Green Radicalism: A critical review of the relationship between Free, Prior and Informed Consent and Policymaking for Mining. Working Paper Series. London: Development Studies Institute.

Chan, Connie K. 2008. Lisa J. Laplante & (and) Suzanne A. Spears, Out of the Conflict Zone: The Case for Community Consent Processes in the Extractive Sector. Yale Human Rights & Development Law Journal 11: 117.

Environmental Law Institute. 2003. Prior informed consent and mining: promoting the sustainable development of local communities. Washington, D.C.

Herz, Steven, Antonio La Vina, and Jonathan Sohn. 2007. Development without Conflict: the Business Case for Community Consent. Washington, D.C.: World Resources Institute.

Hill, Christina, and Kelly Newell. 2009. Women, communities and mining: the gender impacts of mining and the role of gender impact assessment. Australia: Oxfam Australia.

ICMM Letter. 2003. ICMM PRELIMINARY COMMENTS ON THE
DRAFT FRAMEWORK FOR RESPONSIBLE MINING. June 16.

International Labour Office. 1989. C169 Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention, 1989.

IUCN-ICMM Dialogue on Mining and Biodiversity. 2008. Mining and Indigenous Peoples
Issues Roundtable: Continuing a Dialogue between Indigenous Peoples and
Mining Companies
. Roundtable discussions record. Sydney.

Laplante, Lisa J, and Suzanne A Spears. 2008. Out of the Conflict Zone: The Case for Community Consent Processes in the Extractive Sector. Yale Human Rights & Development Law Journal 11: 69.

Lehr, Amr, and Grace Smith. 2010. Implementing a Corporate Free, Prior, and Informed Consent Policy: Benefits and Challenges. Foley Hoag, July.

Macintyre, Martha. 2003. Informed Consent and Mining Projects : Some Problems and a Few Tentative Solutions. Mining Certification Evaluation Project. CSIRO.

Maziotis. 2010. File:ILO 169 countries.PNG – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Mitchell, PaulLetter. 2004. RE: 2004 Mining Ombudsman’s Report. December 6.

Perrault, Anne, Kirk Herbetson, and Owen Lynch. 2007. Partnerships for success in protected areas: the public interest and local community rights to prior informed consent (PIC). Georgetown International Environmental Law Review 19, no. 3: 475-542.

Rio Tinto, and Centre for Social Responsibility in Mining. 2009. Why gender matters: a resource guide for integrating gender considerations into communities work at Rio Tinto.

The ethical funds company. 2008. Winning the social license to operate: resource extraction with free, prior, and informed community consent. Sustainability Perspectives.

Weitzner, Viviane. 2009. Bucking the Wild West –
Making Free, Prior and Informed Consent Work. In Speaking Notes for Free, Prior and Informed Consent Panel. Canada.

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[1] For further examples of projects shut-down because of community opposition, see: (The ethical funds company 2008)

[2] Women are used here as an example of a minority group.

[3] For example, see: (Rio Tinto and Centre for Social Responsibility in Mining 2009; Hill and Newell 2009)