Branching Out
HANOI - In Vietnam there's more to reforestation than
just planting trees. A massive 10-year project aims to
increase the amount of forested land and to protect
watershed areas. At the same time, the government
wants to stimulate provincial economies by boosting the
growing of trees that bear fruit or nuts and plantation
species for pulp.
The Five Million Hectares Reforestation Programme is
supposed numerically to turn back the clock to 1943,
when trees covered 43% of the country--11% more
than at present--while lifting people out of poverty. Its
potential price tag of $2.9 billion makes it one of
Vietnam's most ambitious development schemes.
The theory is that the agricultural and plantation trees
will give villagers new sources of income. In practice,
however, some farmers may risk falling deeper into
debt as they have scant access to market information to
allow them to judge how much of what to plant.
Analysts have pointed to such pitfalls since a
preliminary phase of the programme began in 1999,
backed by 330 billion dong ($22 million) annually in
government funds.
At least 19 major donors and international organizations
are committed to working with the government in
refining the programme, and will discuss aid packages
in September. But they are well aware that corruption
and top-down management marred previous
reforestation projects.
In February, a team of international and national experts
concluded that political patronage, rather than objective
standards, had set funding priorities so far. "The lack of
concrete objectives, criteria and indicators has mostly
prevented transparent decision-making and monitoring,"
they said, adding that "protracted negotiation absorbs
precious project funds."
Donors are pressing the government to present a
detailed analysis to justify spending such copious
amounts of aid. Currently, few tree plantations are
economically viable.
Environmental activists also voice concerns, though they
welcome the high priority being given to reforestation.
"Overall, I would rate it quite positively, especially the
incentives for local communities to play a role," says
Frank Momberg, the Indochina director for Flora &
Fauna International, a wildlife preservation group. "But
it is not sufficiently addressing biodiversity conservation.
Why is the money being used for agricultural crops?
We are constantly losing more and more lowland forest
because it's being converted into agricultural land."
Thr tree of the poor
In the parched southern province of Ninh Thuan, it's
more a matter of converting nothing into something.
Cursed with sandy soil, fierce sunshine and a short rainy
season, the province is notable for its striking array of
blooming cactuses. Provincial officials want to turn vast
patches of sandy wasteland into fertile areas. They are
asking villagers to plant 9,000 hectares of high-yield
cashew trees, to supply a cashew-processing factory
now running under capacity and buying nuts from other
provinces. They maintain that cashew trees hold down
the sand and can survive in such hardy conditions. "We
call it 'the tree of the poor'," says Tran Phong, director
of Ninh Thuan's department of science, technology and
environment.
But there could be another side to that name. While
providing free trees, officials paid scant attention to the
30% drop in cashew prices on the world market over
the past year, and Vietnam's reputation for churning out
low-quality cashews. Some farmers may be happy with
the scheme, but others resent their growing burden of
debt.
Chamalen Thi Kinh has high hopes for the 42 cashew
trees she planted in her backyard recently. Her
husband, Tran Van Dao, is happy because the
government pays him 97,500 dong a month to patrol a
22-hectare stretch of badly degraded forest. The idea is
to discourage him from taking wood for his own
family's use, to allow natural regeneration and to ward
off illegal loggers. Dao can report them, but can do little
else. "If I caught them, they would kill me!" Dao says.
For farmer Nguyen, debt is the greater fear. He planted
4,000 cashew trees under a previous reforestation
programme and the current one. Now he owes 40
million dong to relatives and friends because harvests
are meagre and government funds didn't cover the extra
labour he has had to hire. "Many times I feel tired and
fed up," sighs the 38-year-old. Nonetheless, he says, "I
have to go on. My sweat and tears have already
poured into this land."
By Margot Cohen - The Far Eastern Economic Review - August 16, 2001.
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