The Zapatista “Mother Seeds in Resistance” project counters this neoliberal impetus toward biological and informational monocultures, staking out a constellation of material and cultural spaces that embrace entropic self-organization in its biological, knowledge-sharing, and socio-historical dimensions. In so doing, the “Mother Seeds in Resistance” project not only illuminates the nexus between archive theory, ecocriti-cism, and postcolonial theory but also makes it possible for us to envision an archival space beyond the counter-entropic paradigm of the imperial archive.

Non-governmental organisations (NGOs) are campaigning against the destruction of the Gran Chaco. According to ENDEPA, a national organisation of indigenous people, deforestation is not even mainly about timber: “The Indios in Argentina are facing multinational corporations which are massively buying real estate, in Patagonia as well as in the Chaco. Many of these companies are bogus firms with addresses in tax havens. As far as we understand the motives of these companies, they are interested in the natural resources of this country. We are seriously concerned, because great water reserves – above and below the surface – are coming under the control of these corporations.” Under the dry, thorny forest, there is a huge subterranean water reservoir: a part of the Gran Chaco belongs to the Guaraní aquifer, which also passes below Brasil, Paraguay and Bolivia. It is assumed that this aquifer is the second biggest freshwater reserve of the world.

Al reescribir la historia, estas élites han impedido con éxito cualquier redistribución de poder a los descendientes de los habitantes originarios del continente. Al reescribir la historia, los europeos han logrado evitar cualquier discusión sobre reparaciones por los siglos de pillaje con los que se expropió la riqueza de dos continentes para financiar el ascenso del capitalismo y el imperialismo del Viejo Mundo.

Mining and oil companies generally earn a bad reputation for their Amazon activities, but projects devised in the name of “sustainability” can have a negative impact too. Think in particular of the programme of hydroelectric dams being rolled out across Brazil. Belo Monte, the world’s fourth largest hydroelectric dam, is being built across a southern tributary of the Amazon, for instance. It has already caused the influx of tens of thousands of workers, with severe strain on local social relations. Its impact on a vast ecosystem – a major hydrological basin – will be monumental.

They did not. According to the best estimates, there are some 45m indigenous people in Latin America today. Who are they? Those who define themselves thus, say social scientists. That self-definition does not turn on language and dress, nor still less on living in a rural community (though all those elements may be important to Indian cultural identities). The rise of the new Indian movements has several causes. First and foremost, most indigenous Latin Americans still live in poverty, and many in extreme poverty. Compared with the rest of the population, they have fewer years of schooling and are less likely to enjoy basic services, according to the World Bank. While access to primary schooling is now nearly universal, that is not true of higher education. Whereas 18% of Ecuadoreans aged between 18 and 25 are in full-time education, the figure for indigenous Ecuadoreans is only 1%, reckons Fernando García, an anthropologist at FLACSO, a postgraduate school in Quito.

The protection of seed is thus of the utmost importance for the indigenous peoples of Guatemala and across Mesoamerica. “We cannot live without our corn,” said Acetún of the indigenous municipality. “It makes up all of our lives. We consume it for our food, we sell it, it is us.”

The message isn't just honest, it's also pertinent. Indigenous peoples are as aware as the rest of us about the prospect of environmental catastrophe.