Something struck me as being strangely out of place during a recent morning walk through the neighborhood. A plot of newly seeded lawn now entombs what was once a thriving vegetable garden tended to every farming season by the elders in a multi-generational Chinese American family.
The garden was the epitome of elegance and efficiency, a testament to the farming wisdom passed down for millennia, an intimate bond between human endeavor and earthly providence.
The loss of that annual ritual — that summoned the farmers back for another season of planting and harvest, that displayed ingenuity orchestrating abundance, that transcended time and preserved culture — eerily echoes the dramatic changes occurring across our planet on many fronts, especially those affecting indigenous people.
Unique languages spoken worldwide are disappearing at the rate of nine per year, or one every 40 days. Crucial elements of indigenous culture are becoming extinct. Resource exploitation, deforestation, extreme poverty, disease, forced removal and relocation are just some of the threats disproportionately affecting indigenous people all over the globe.
Now, a new potential hazard has landed among hundreds of the remotest tribes in the Amazon: high-speed internet thanks to Starlink, the satellite-internet service from Elon Musk’s private space company SpaceX. Since Starlink gained entry into Brazil in 2022, it has hurtled across the world’s largest rainforest, importing the web to one of the last offline places on Earth.
The Marubo people of the Javari Valley Indigenous Territory are on the frontline of the debate of what happens when isolated indigenous people confront the internet’s potentials and perils all at once and what it will mean for their culture and identity.
“They are already grappling with the same challenges that have racked American households for years: teenagers glued to phones; group chats full of gossip; addictive social networks; online strangers; violent video games; scams; misinformation; and minors watching pornography,” Jack Nicas wrote in The New York Times.
The Marubo, like 19 other tribes living in the Javari Valley, were once uncontacted, having lived in total isolation until rubber tappers arrived near the end of the 19th century. Since then, these tribes have adopted some new customs and technologies such as firearms, chainsaws, and the boat motor. All have provided benefits without grave detriment to the people’s customs, rituals, and routines.
A story appearing on the “Today Show” and the efforts of a generous benefactor ultimately set the stage for the arrival of the internet for the Marubo people. But this new window to the outside world has left many in the tribe feeling torn.
“Leaders realized they needed limits. The internet would be switched on for only two hours in the morning, five hours in the evening, and all-day Sunday. During those windows, many Marubo are crouched over or reclined in their hammocks on their phones,” Nicas observed.
Among the potentials of the internet that many in the tribe deem favorable is the ability to coordinate between villages and alert the authorities to health issues and environmental destruction. Marubo teachers share lessons with students in different hamlets and everyone is in much closer contact with faraway family and friends. The internet has opened new education and job opportunities providing more autonomy for those who live deep in the Amazon.
However, the Marubo and other indigenous tribes are also facing perils from high-speed internet. Illegal loggers and miners now possess a new tool to communicate and evade authorities. Tribal leaders are concerned about how the internet will affect their tradition of passing down their history and culture orally, setting them on an irreversible course of losing knowledge. Exposure to graphic sex videos is activating more aggressive sexual behavior from young men – this in a culture that frowns on public kissing.
The relentless march of technology has brought it to the remotest corners of the world, sometimes more quickly than people’s ability to handle the implications and aftershocks. It is dramatically reshaping our world and redefining the human experience. It can also blur the lines between human and machine, leaving people trapped in a nightmarish existence where their very identities are at risk of being assimilated into the digital abyss.
Only time will tell how the Marubo people navigate the uncharted currents now tugging at their culture and way of life. Decades ago, the most respected Marubo shaman had visions of a handheld device that could connect with the entire world.
“It would be for the good of the people,” he predicted. “But in the end, it wouldn’t be.”
Dr. William Kolbe, an Andover resident, is a retired high school and college teacher and former Peace Corps volunteer in Tonga and El Salvador. He can be reached at bila.kolbe9@gmail.com.