From soil to tierrita: Contrasts between Mexican soil regulation and the perspectives, values, and practices of indigenous communities

Soils are the basis of agroecosystems. They host an enormous biodiversity and are central to ecosystem processes such as nutrient cycling and water retention (Wagg et al., 2014; Food and Agriculture Organization [FAO], 2015). Their capacity to sequester carbon (up to 10% of human emissions) and their contribution to mitigating the climate crisis have recently become visible (FAO, 2023). Mexico has a complex topography, very different types of climates, and an enormous variety of landscapes, so that in the country we can find 25 of the 30 soil types registered worldwide (Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Geografía, 2004). However, this diversity of soils is the product not only of slow geological processes but also of ecological, social, cultural, and political processes. It is the product of the work, knowledge, and relationships established by the diverse indigenous and peasant communities of the country. Despite their centrality in the reproduction systems of the communities and in general, soils in the world and in Mexico face a growing and worrisome deterioration (Cotler et al., 2007; Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2019).

Given their complexity and dynamism, it has been proposed to understand soils comprehensively in terms of the multiple socioecological relationships that define them (Barrera-Bassols et al., 2006; Allen et al., 2018; Himes and Muraca, 2018; Jax et al., 2018). However, these types of relational approaches of understanding hardly germinate in the productivist and utilitarian logic associated with the modern-Western cultural matrix, which has prevailed in our scientific, agronomic, political, cultural, and economic understanding of fundamental components of the environment (Pennock and McKenzie, 2016; Merçon and Vázquez-Quesada, 2020). In contrast, in Mexico and other countries, other ways of understanding and living in the world coexist, ways associated with worldviews, practices, and relationships with nature such as those of many indigenous peoples (Boege, 2008; Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2008; Merçon and Vázquez-Quesada, 2020). In fact, the knowledge and practices of indigenous peoples have given rise to extraordinary agroecosystems, agroecological practices, and biocultural landscapes (Boege, 2008). These forms of interrelation with different elements of the territories, associated with specific dynamics and contexts, are often based on a wide diversity of knowledge, perceptions, and values in relation to nature (Muradian and Pascual, 2018; Arroyo-Lambaer et al., 2021).

The ways of perceiving nature, understanding its processes, and relating to it play a key role in our decisions, actions, and forms of social organization (Muradian and Pascual, 2018; Ellis et al., 2019; Zafra-Calvo et al., 2020). However, in countries with a great historical diversity of indigenous communities, like Mexico, indigenous ways of conceiving nature are commonly not made visible or taken into account when generating public policies and building a regulatory framework (López Bárcenas, 2005; Dendoncker et al., 2018). On the contrary, the modern-Western vision that favors utilitarian and compartmentalized approaches has prevailed; in turn, such approaches have maintained their dominance through different forms of violence, public programs, and policies in Mexico and possibly worldwide (Millennium Ecosystem Assessment, 2003; Centro Mexicano de Derecho Ambiental [CEMDA], 2016; Ellis et al., 2019; CEMDA, 2020).

The content of norms as regulatory instruments is defined largely by the dominant political and ideological elements of a given time and place. Therefore, it is very likely that the dominant modern-Western vision has leaked into many aspects of rural and urban life in Mexico, particularly in the legislation regulating land relations, which contributes to its degradation and to the systemic violence to which indigenous peoples in the country have been subjected. Recognition and respect for the worldviews and practices of peoples is a human right; they have the right to maintain and determine their priorities in political, economic, social, and cultural matters based on their worldviews, as stated in article XXIX of the United Nations (UN) Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN, 2007). Moreover, biocultural diversity and the possibility of moving toward more just, sustainable and food-sovereignty-oriented agroecological paradigms in Mexico are largely sustained by peasant and indigenous agriculture (International Labour Organization [ILO], 2017; Bellon et al., 2018; Sánchez and Morales, 2021). For all these reasons, it is necessary to analyze the values and visions that underlie Mexican regulations related to soils and to identify contrasts with other ways of being and being in the world, as well as possible omissions and injustices. This will allow us to visualize possible ways to remedy these injustices at different scales and in different areas of work, including agroecological transition initiatives by both communities and the government.

This research is in itself a commitment to pluricultural, interdisciplinary, and transdisciplinary dialogue about soils. As part of the collaborative process “Territorios Diversos para la Vida”¹ (English: Diverse Territories for Life), we developed a research project with a shared intention of contributing to the recognition of indigenous and equivalent communities’ autonomy in a pluricultural Mexico where diversity is respected and cared for. The result of the extensive research experience was published as an illustrated book in Spanish (CEMDA, 2022). From the beginning of this research, we collaborated, both in the design and in the execution and analysis, as a team wherein the participation of students from intercultural universities in Masewal, Nahua, and Zapotec communities stands out. This in itself constitutes an essay toward decolonial methodologies given that the coauthors who belong to these communities are active subjects in this research (Santos, 2010; Ludwig et al., 2023; Moreno Cely et al., 2023; Renck et al., 2023). From our diverse experiences and our backgrounds in Biology, Agronomy, Rural Development, Sustainability Sciences and Law, among others, we had the goal of contributing to the understanding of the relationship systems of some indigenous peoples with soils, and we analyzed if the current regulatory frameworks and instruments that contemplate them are bioculturally appropriate to the Mexican context. In this article, we address the following questions: How do different indigenous peoples name, work, value, and care for the soil? How are soils conceptualized and regulated in the current normative framework in Mexico? And what contrasts emerge from the comparison between the worldview of indigenous peoples and the normative framework around soil? Based on our results, we discuss to what extent and in which ways the current regulatory framework in Mexico lacks biocultural relevance and reproduces forms of violence against indigenous peoples. Finally, we discuss various experiences of biocultural and agroecological soil management in Mexico and Latin America, as well as possible paths toward the construction of regulatory frameworks and ways to develop agroecology from a multicultural vision of soils.

Generating a dialogue between 2 very different approaches to soils requires intercultural, interdisciplinary, and transdisciplinary work. This work was carried out by a multidisciplinary and intercultural group of 17 people: 7 indigenous women students from the communities on which we focused; members and collaborators of the civil society organizations Territorios Diversos para la Vida, A.C. and the Centro Mexicano de Derecho Ambiental, A.C. (CEMDA); and researchers from the Universidad Veracruzana, the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, and the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla. It was a transdisciplinary research process in which we cocreated the methods, research questions, categories, and proposals (Stokols et al., 2013). This joint learning process sought to establish an intercultural dialogue and contribute to the path of critical reflection on our own culture in the mirror of other cultures (Walsh, 2008).

We defined an analysis matrix aimed at making visible and comparing different ways of understanding and relating to soil inductively. Thus, the concept of soil that we use here is broader and encompasses knowledge and values that break with the dualism of modern-Western science that separates nature and culture, the living from the nonliving (Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2008), to enter into ways of understanding the soil from non-dualistic conceptions of the world that confront instrumental and productivist rationality between nature and culture–society (Escobar, 2015). The main dimensions and transversal axes that we covered in this research and with the communities are represented in Figure 1.²

The worldview dimension refers to the shared perception of a social group, which forms the heart of a culture and constitutes the frame of reference regarding how reality is perceived and defines behaviors (Kraft, 1999) in relation to the soil or the tierrita, as the native communities affectionately call it. The worldview includes a social group’s own ways of naming, genesis, characteristics, and ritual and spiritual relationship. The dimension of care and use refers to the group’s own forms of land use and conservation, the socio-environmental criteria for its management, and the conception of its relationship with water, biodiversity, climate, and food. The governance dimension encompasses coordination and deliberation in the communities’ own systems for decision-making, appropriation, the system of ownership and possession, and other institutions linked to soil management (Vargas, 2003; Montoya-Domínguez and Rojas-Robles, 2016; Ramos Pedrueza Ceballos et al., 2020), in addition to tensions generated with the legal framework, government programs, and companies. We pay special attention to the communities’ own normative and organizational systems. We identified that these dimensions are crossed by transversal axes such as the autonomy of the communities, their own identities and values; biodiversity and the climate crisis; threats and tensions between worldviews and management schemes; and gender and intergenerational perspectives. We also seek to cover the different scales of the present, the past, and (visions for) the future, as well as the family, community, and regional levels.

To analyze worldviews, practices, and governance from the perspective of indigenous communities, we conducted 23 semi-structured, in-depth interviews with key practitioners in Nahua communities in the Sierra de Zongolica, Masewal in the Sierra Norte de Puebla, and Zapotec in the Sierra Norte de Oaxaca (Table 1). In identifying key actors in the communities, we sought as diverse a range of perspectives as possible. The interviews were carried out in people’s workplaces (kitchens, homes, and sometimes in the field), conducted by women members of the communities, mostly in their native language, and recorded with their consent. The profile of the interviewees is described in Section 3.1. Of the 23 people interviewed, 11 were women and 12 were men, with diverse occupations, where peasant women and students predominated. The interviewees ranged in age from 21 to 77 years old.

Following a qualitative and transdisciplinary approach guided by data-driven theory (Strauss and Corbin, 1994; Suddaby, 2006), we created the research questions and categories of analysis abductively, that is, we conducted a constant dialogue between the codes and categories of the experience, the interviews, and the theory (Strauss and Corbin, 1994; Suddaby, 2006). A synthesized guide of the questions asked in each community according to the dimensions of the analysis matrix is shown in Table 2. We conducted a qualitative and inductive analysis of the interviewees’ perceptions in the 3 categories. We sought to create new fields of reflection around the worldviews, relationships, and practices linked to the tierrita, for which the participation of women in the communities was the starting point.

Although land regulation is an issue that concerns all 3 levels of government, we decided to limit our analysis to current federal and general laws in Mexico, based on the influence they have on land management at lower scales. Currently, there are 314 legal instruments at the federal and general levels (Cámara de Diputados, 2022), including the Political Constitution of the United Mexican States (1917). We reviewed this set of laws and decided to select a subset, based on the following criteria: current environmental laws of high relevance, current laws related to territorial and urban development, and other current laws related to land use (agriculture, mining, hydrocarbons, energy generation, tourism, among others).

In each of these laws, we searched for the terms “soil,” “subsoil,” “substrate,” “carbon sink,” “terrain,” “land,” and “territory.” Based on the relevance of the sections identified, we obtained a final set of 17 legal instruments represented in Figure 2. We conducted an analysis of the different conceptions of soil present in each of these instruments, in particular how soil is conceived and what functions are assigned to it (worldview); how it is proposed to care for or take advantage of it (care and use); and how property, use, and exploitation rights over it are established (governance). We also inquired into the implications of these conceptions in the fight against climate change, the construction of fair and sustainable food systems, and the exercise of the human rights of indigenous peoples.

The enforcement of the laws in the Mexican legal framework presumes the existence of a legislative process in accordance with the corresponding regulations, which may not have been consensual, participatory, informed, or collaborative in terms of the standards established in international normative instruments or those of indigenous peoples. This analysis of the current legal framework on land does not cover the legislative process as such but focuses on the content of each instrument.

In Table 3, we synthesize the 3 indigenous cultures’ communities’ worldviews around tierrita. Something common to all 3, from the perception of the people interviewed, is that tierrita is conceived as a living being. From this perspective, the earth is not separated from the mountains or the waters that flow through it and fertilize it. On the contrary, these elements are integrated and form a matrix that can create and give life, like a mother. Thus, in the 3 cultures, they refer to it with respect as Mother Earth or with affection, as tierrita. The relationship that these communities establish with the earth is cyclical, she gives life, and we return to her when we die. This bond allows us to understand tierrita in different ways according to the activities that are carried out on her, but also as a unit to which we belong.

The relationships established between communities and nature are the basis for explaining and understanding their worlds. This form of relationship has created its own value systems based on respect, care, and reciprocity. The care and responsibility of protection toward the land manifested in the interviews corresponds to an approach of reciprocity and devotion according to Muradian and Pascual’s (2018) categorization of relational valuation. In everyday life, these values are expressed in songs, prayers, ceremonies, petitions, forms of work, ways of organizing life, and in the people’s own identity. The relationship with the land and the territory is a reflection of who they are as individuals, as communities, and as peoples (see photographic representation of this relationship in Figure 3).

Based on the analysis of perceptions in the interviews, it is clear that the 3 communities share many elements of worldview and even rituals, although there are subtle differences in the ways in which they relate, which are influenced by the language and biocultural practices of each place. For example, there are different ways of speaking to the land in each culture’s language and rituals (Table 3). This shows that the relationship that these 3 communities (and the other 65 indigenous peoples of Mexico) have with the land cannot be homogenized and how important it is to know and respect the diversity of relationships of each one in particular, which are expressed through self-determination and identity.

The care and use of the land is based on reciprocal management, according to the interviewees from the 3 communities. The sustenance of life begins working the land, since it is from there that everything necessary for a good life is obtained. Therefore, knowing how to work the land with respect becomes fundamental. Work is carried out not only in the physical labors of the field, but it is also closely related to ritual and spiritual practices that, in turn, give rise to particular ways of naming, understanding, and relating to the land, as well as to geographically localized landscapes, crops, and gastronomies. This shows the close relationship that indigenous peoples maintain with the territories they inhabit and that, to this day, continue to create and reproduce the biocultural diversity concentrated in these ways of life. Although these general principles of use and management are shared, each community has its own integral systems of cultivation and management of the land, which are illustrated in Table 4.

However, according to the interviews, these traditional practices have changed in recent years in some of the communities. Most people perceive an increase in practices that are harmful to biodiversity and the soil, such as the use of agrochemicals. This occurs due to the industrialization of food production by introducing monocultures and crops, which is linked to the need for pesticides and fertilizers with the ensuing erosion and loss of fertile soils and its consequences. The communities state that the change in food cultivation practices has been generated by technological packages and federal government programs, promoted by the global market and Western worldviews in relation to soils, which began with the so-called Green Revolution. These have promoted not only the change in practices but also the displacement of indigenous and rural communities from their lands, as pointed out in the interviews.

The main threats against the land that the people interviewed refer to are the use of toxic agrochemicals, migration to work in the cities or abroad, the lack of interest of young people, and megaprojects of extraction or infrastructure that threaten their traditional ways of managing the territory, and their knowledge that has been generated for years from praxis and their languages. The changes in the relationship with the land are linked to the affective bond and sense of belonging to the soil as our mother. This analysis shows that when children and youth no longer participate in practices and rituals linked to the soil, when traditional food production practices are transformed from polyculture to monoculture, and when these productive activities are oriented to the market and not to self-supply, this affective bond with the land is eroded (detailed analysis in CEMDA, 2022). The absence of children and young people in the practices can be attributed to the implementation of the school as a learning space that makes it difficult for them to participate in family activities and where they acquire knowledge distant from their own, according to the interviews. Some people mentioned that the changes in the way of relating to the soil are closely linked to the loss of language due to schooling and, with it, the indigenous worldview that implies a respectful relationship with the soil.

According to the interviews, the forms of organization and decision-making and actions around soils vary in the 3 cultures and depend on the history of the communities. While some maintain a communal organization scheme with collective ownership of the land (Atlanca, Veracruz, and San Juan Jaltepec, Oaxaca), others have transitioned to a scheme of individualized decision-making within their family, and state regulation with private land ownership (Tequila, Veracruz). There are also hybrid forms where some institutions of collective organization are maintained, such as committees, assemblies, and councils that allow a certain degree of collective decision-making, but land ownership is private (Cuetzalan region). The different forms of organization and the corresponding decision-making schemes are presented in Table 5.

In the interviews, participants highlight a web of obstacles to the organization for the care of the land in the indigenous communities, which is framed in the socioeconomic and political tendencies of individualization and fragmentation of their territories, as well as in the systematic denial of their differentiated rights as indigenous communities. In communities with communal organization, there are no major changes in the form of organization, only attempts at land invasion when young people migrate. In the private property schemes, the organization at the community level and around the care of the land has been lost. In these communities, older people have witnessed changes in how work is seen, promoted by the private property and individualization scheme. The young people we interviewed did not perceive these changes to have happened.

The reasons for these changes lie in the tensions generated by the values promoted through government programs and the normative system that sustains them. Most of the people interviewed point out that there is a lack of consideration in the elaboration of these programs by experts who do not know the reality, practices, and values of the communities. For example, they point out that in Reyeshogpan, federal programs have promoted the adoption of other forms of farming, in which the land is no longer worked carefully because they have encouraged felling large trees and sowing monocultures, which leads to the loss of biodiversity. The people of Tequila pointed out a tension with the legal framework and government decisions that tend to favor the dynamics of the companies more than the interests of the communities (e.g., mining), in addition to the fact that they are carried out without the community’s consent, and regulations to prevent socio-environmental impacts are insufficient. In San Juan Jaltepec, a Zapotec community, federal government programs do not usually reach the community due to the size of their landholdings, so the organization focuses on the community and collective action (see examples of detailed research in CEMDA, 2022).

A tension related to the ownership of the land arises when private property systems are established. In the interviews conducted, there is a predominant view that the land does not belong to anyone, as exemplified by the statements in the interviews “we only walk on the land and the land stays” and “we belong to the land.” What we can do is “own it by taking care of it,” like a loan, a living space that takes care of us and whom we take care of. According to this perspective, “the earth belongs to all beings that inhabit it and possess life” and not only to people. However, when a private property regime is inserted into the communities, as is the case of the Nahua communities of the Sierra de Zongolica (Table 5), the land, which does not belong to us, suddenly has an owner and it seems that we can possess it with papers and make decisions about it without consultation. The qualitative analysis of the interviews shows that when the soil is also a commodity that can be bought, it becomes a property and a good within an unjust economic model, thus imposing utilitarian values on the land.

On the other hand, in the 3 communities the interviewees pointed out that women have historically not been sufficiently considered in decision-making, a situation that still persists to this day with varying degrees of intensity depending on the community and its particular conditions. According to the interviewees’ perception, in the communities of the Cuetzalan region and in Atlanca, women used to be assigned to the kitchen, but now they also work the land. It is perceived that activities are now more equitable between men and women and that women are more taken into account. Concerning the Nahua communities, the perception is different: In Tequila, with a private property scheme, it is notorious how the property registry has reinforced gender injustices, since the deeds are commonly in the name of men, so they are the ones who have the right to make decisions. Several people pointed out that sexism persists, and many women do not have a voice or the capacity to make decisions. In San Juan Jaltepec, women participate in the assemblies, although decisions about what to sow are usually left to men (between fathers and sons), and only men’s work in the fields is visible.

Mrs Blandina Velasco gave us a very interesting analogy comparing the mistreatment of the land and women, which proposes a special link with the “bodies” on which the patriarchal exploitation system is exercised: “The people who fumigate their lands do it because they do not respect them, they do not know how to be grateful, it is a poison that kills everything. Mother Earth cries when this happens, but she puts up with it, just as we mothers put up with everything that happens to us. If we get sick, we put up with it, we carry heavy loads and do everything around the house. For women there is no rest. The earth receives us and we rest in it. For the earth, we are still alive; for those who live here, we are no longer present” (Interviewed woman, 77 years old, San Juan Jaltepec).

Concerning how soil is seen, the laws reviewed have different definitions of soil, ranging from considering it as a mere surface for construction, to an element of the ecosystem, to a reservoir of resources or an agricultural substrate. There is no unified and integrative definition of soil in Mexican federal legislation; each law conceives soil in a different way, considering different dimensions of soil and assigning it different functions, depending on the objective of the legal instrument (Table 6 and Figure 4).

This analysis showed that the conceptions present in Mexican legislation are based on a hegemonic vision of nature that conceives it as an object at people’s service. There is no explicit mention of the worldviews of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities in Mexico in the way land is conceived in the legislation. Despite the fact that these communities have maintained their territories for centuries, neither their knowledge nor their management and governance institutions are reflected in the current regulations. Regarding land use and management (Table 7), the review of the laws showed that the value of land in the regulations seems to be in its capacity to satisfy human needs, particularly of an economic nature (industrial agriculture, mineral extraction, infrastructure development, etc.). Other values, such as ecosystem value, are marginal, or not mentioned, such as the spiritual or identity value that the soil has for many indigenous peoples.

The analysis shows that the legislation lacks the necessary regulations to achieve objectives such as respect for the rights of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities or food sovereignty and security, which are established in instruments such as the Constitution or the General Law on Climate Change. Our review also shows that there is no harmony among the different federal laws that regulate soil. As at the time of our review, there is no general soil regulatory framework (e.g., a Soil Law), it is confusing to determine which regulation prevails in specific cases, that is, whether conservation, agricultural production, urbanization, or resource extraction should be prioritized. Although economic laws (such as the Mining Law or the Hydrocarbons Law) mention respect for nature and people, the exploitation of resources prevails. Sustainability is a concept that runs through the legislation, however, its 3 dimensions are not considered equally: the environmental is subordinated to the economic, while the social is almost absent.

With respect to governance (Table 7), the legislative analysis shows that a private conception of ownership of natural assets is maintained, which excludes other ways of understanding and relating to the territory, for example, communal, which many of the peoples and communities maintain. The links between peoples and their territories must be recognized and understood “as the fundamental basis of their cultures, their spiritual life, their integrity and their economic system” (Comisión Interamericana de Derechos Humanos, 2006). However, our analysis shows that, although at a constitutional level the right of indigenous peoples and communities to territory is recognized, this is not reflected in federal laws.

Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution establishes that the original ownership of the country’s lands corresponds to the Nation. Although Article 2 recognizes that Mexico is a pluricultural country and that indigenous peoples and equivalent communities enjoy a certain degree of self-determination, it also establishes that the Nation is unique and indivisible. In other words, it declares that, although these communities enjoy preferential access to the resources present in their territories, they are ultimately subordinate to the Nation and it is the Nation that has the last word, particularly when it comes to “strategic areas.”

In this way, the state can grant permits to third parties for the occupation and exploitation of the territories of the indigenous peoples and equivalent communities, sometimes on the grounds that activities such as mining are considered by the Constitution to be in the “public’s interest.” Although this concept (updated as “public order” and “social interest”) is indeterminate and its meaning must be specified and assessed depending on each specific case (Suprema Corte de Justicia de la Nación, 2022), on many occasions it has been used to argue that this type of extractive activities are aligned with the collective interest and, therefore, can be imposed over the particular rights of the indigenous peoples and equivalent communities. Although there are some mechanisms that seek to enforce preferential access, such as the right to consultation, the legislation establishes conditions such that it is very complicated for communities to prevent the use of their territories by third parties or by the state itself.

The visions about land of the indigenous communities we interviewed and those expressed in Mexican legislation are contrasting and even opposing. On the one hand, the interview results highlight that the indigenous communities consider the soil or land as a living being capable of giving life and maintaining the necessary conditions for its permanence. From the way it is named, we note that the relationship that these communities have with the tierrita is commonly one of care, respect, and reciprocity. It is from working with the land that these communities relate to it and obtain their livelihoods. With this, they acquire the responsibility to protect and care for it to ensure the flourishing of all forms of life and beings that inhabit it, while at the same time creating a bond that gives them identity. These results are in line with previous ethno-edaphology studies in Mexico, which also highlight the precision with which different peoples and communities recognize and classify different types of soil based on their texture, moisture retention, and color, among other attributes, and develop appropriate techniques and practices for each of them (Barrera-Bassols et al., 2006; Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2011).

Although each of the communities in which we worked had particular elements, in many there were comments that referred to the exploitation of Mother Earth in analogy with the exploitation of women. Likewise, when in the interviews we projected the future to which the communities aspired, reference was frequently made to a community organization in which women would have a more important role caring for the soil.

On the other hand, as the results of the analysis of current regulations show, Mexican legislation considers the soil as an inert medium that serves as a support or as a reservoir of resources for the development of human activities. In the most extreme cases, as an element to destroy and remove in order to obtain commodified goods. In this way, the soil and nature itself are a means for economic development. Nature is conceived as a source of resources that becomes valuable to the extent that it can be exploited and commercialized. Instead of conceiving it as a common good that we must take care of because our life depends on it, Mexican legislation establishes that the soil and what it contains is the original property of the Nation and its use is subject to what each ruler considers public order and social interest. This has allowed and favored the imposition of an economic and mercantilist logic around the soil or land and its value in utilitarian and instrumental terms, while limiting, hindering, and making invisible all other ways of valuing and relating to the land, particularly those of indigenous peoples. It has also facilitated the maintenance of a patriarchal system in decision-making on land use and management (CEMDA, 2022).

While all forms of valuation imply a relationship with the land, when this relationship is irreplaceable, when the land itself matters and gives identity to the cultural groups that maintain it, and that relationship is based on reciprocity and respect, it contrasts strongly with the purely utilitarian sense found in the law (Pascual et al., 2017; Chan et al., 2018). By hindering and rendering invisible other forms of relationship and valuation that are not utilitarian, the state violates the principle of pluriculturalism on which it is supposedly founded, according to article 2 of the Constitution. The ambiguity in the definitions of land present in different laws generates vulnerability and legal insecurity when several laws are applicable to a specific case. In this sense, the law does not define clear criteria and standards on soil management, and this lack of definition eases mismanagement and the use of the law according to particular interests. In addition, by establishing principles such as the preponderance of strategic activities of public interest and national security over any other use of the territory, the state exercises structural violence by subordinating the autonomy of indigenous peoples to these legal figures and, thus, hinders the exercise of their differentiated rights. Finally, the law recognizes the state as the lead for decision-making and land management, which makes it difficult to legitimize the normative systems of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities (CEMDA, 2016, 2020).

The fact that the worldview and ways of managing the land of indigenous and equivalent communities are not reflected in the regulations is related to the Mexican legislative process. In order to create laws, modify them and even modify the Federal Constitution, a series of acts and procedures that establish different norms must be complied with.³ The main problem with this model lies in who are the actors empowered to present initiatives: only the President, the legislatures of the states, members of the Congress of the Union (Chamber of Deputies and Chamber of Senators), and the citizenry in a number equivalent to at least 0.13% of the nominal list of voters. In other words, the creation of laws in Mexico is concentrated in a very small group. Even when citizens have the power to present initiatives, reaching the number of people required has been very complicated. For example, from 2012 to 2018, only 11 citizen initiatives were presented, of which only 1 was successfully enacted (Vázquez Correa, 2018). In addition, partisanship, political agendas aligned to economic interests and lack of diversity of profiles in terms of gender, culture, disciplines, professional training, or other knowledge, hinders the inclusion of the diversity of visions and values of a multicultural country in its regulation.

In this sense, the Mexican regulatory framework around soil is not relevant for a pluricultural country, violates rights such as the right to identity and territory of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities (Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos, 2016; ILO Convention No. 169), and endangers traditional worldviews and practices of soil and land care, and, along with them, soil conservation and food sovereignty.

The contrasts that we identified between the visions of the communities and Mexican regulations should be amended in order to guarantee the rights of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities but also to build more sustainable forms of land management and regulation. In Mexico, there are multiple examples of more sustainable land management, promoted precisely by members of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities, and based on their worldviews and traditional practices.

The San Juan Parangaricutiro forestry project (Equator Initiative, 2012), the Centro de Desarrollo Integral Campesino de la Mixteca (Maguire Fund, 2013), and the Ordenamiento Territorial de Cuetzalan (Unión de Cooperativas Tosepan Titataniske et al., 2021) stand out, to mention just a few. These experiences highlight the possibility of creating territorial management schemes based on values of reciprocity and respect for the land, thus being important references of a possible pluricultural land management generated from the roots.

At a regional level, some Latin American countries have opted for a change in legislation to recognize their plurinational and pluricultural composition, and with it, the recognition of the rights of the indigenous nations and peoples who inhabit them. Unlike the Mexican Constitution, which is pluricultural but recognizes a single nation, the Bolivian Constitution declares that Bolivia is plurinational, that is, “the basis of the State is the union of different indigenous peoples and nations under the same Constitution and government, with broad recognition of their rights.” The Bolivian Constitution incorporates principles of the Aymara people, such as the suma qamaña in its eighth article, which means “living well.” In addition, it proposes a community democracy that recognizes indigenous’ particular normative systems and establishes mechanisms that guarantee indigenous peoples’ autonomy and participation in the structures of the state. It also recognizes their right to the protection of their sacred places, to autonomous indigenous territorial management, and to the exclusive use of resources, among others. One law that stands out is the 2010 Law on the Rights of Mother Earth in Bolivia, which in article 2 states that “life systems cannot be commercialized, and that the exercise of the rights of Mother Earth (understood as a collective subject of public interest) requires the dialogue of the diversity of feelings, values, knowledge and practices of all the cultures of the world that seek to live in harmony with nature” (own translation).

For its part, the Ecuadorian Constitution, which also declares plurinationality, integrates the Quechua principle sumak kawsay, understood as “good living,” which is an obligation of the state to guarantee. This implies, among other things, that the Ecuadorian government will ensure compliance with the right to food sovereignty, the imprescriptible conservation of communal lands for indigenous peoples, and their ways of life and traditional environmental management practices. The Ecuadorian Constitution also recognizes that nature is a subject of rights that must be respected by the state and citizens.

Unlike the Mexican Constitution, the Bolivian and Ecuadorian constitutions incorporate the demands of historical indigenous struggles and consider as guiding principles elements of their worldviews. These principles move away from the capitalist logic of the Mexican State to give greater relevance to the care of nature and people, based on the recognition of the existence of interdependent relationships between society and nature (relational logics). By declaring themselves plurinational states, recognizing the institutions of indigenous peoples, and establishing mechanisms for participation in government, these countries strengthen the political and territorial autonomy to which peoples are entitled in accordance with international standards. Nevertheless, the continuity of the extractivist and neoliberal economic model that prevails in both makes us think about the practical and normative limitations of these recognitions and the need to develop the content of these principles (Merçon and Vázquez-Quesada, 2020).

An example of the application of a pluricultural framework is the recognition of nature as a subject of law with legal personality and, in particular, of rivers, as is the case of the Atrato River in Colombia and the Te Awa Tupua River (“the supernatural river”) in New Zealand. This recognition is based on the perception and relational way of life that indigenous peoples maintain with these natural entities, which legitimizes them as their stewards, thus strengthening the exercise of their autonomy. In this sense, this recognition could enhance their capacity to manage and guard their territories (Bavikatte and Bennett, 2015). The recognition of the rights of nature and its guardians marks a different trajectory toward a form of valuation where nature itself matters.

These experiences in Latin America and the rest of the world have served to vindicate visions and forms of organization that strengthen the exercise of the rights of autonomy and territory of indigenous communities and are important references in the generation of conditions for a fair and integral management of the land. The Mexican State must undertake the task of constructing a culturally adequate legal framework that explicitly, comprehensively, and strategically considers land for indigenous peoples and equivalent communities and that contributes to reverse the dominant homogeneous and imposing model.

What should a legal framework that responds to these needs look like? And can a General Land Law—understood not only as an outcome but as a democratic process—contribute to broadening and strengthening the self-management spaces of indigenous communities? Although it is not possible to formulate answers to these questions in depth, this article provides the following keys to their development: As a process, it is essential to ground ourselves on a critical intercultural dialogue that accommodates all voices, worldviews, and different ways of understanding and relating to the soil; and as an outcome, it should aim to correct the conditions of inequality and structural discrimination in which indigenous communities find themselves, through the recognition of their institutions, regulatory systems, and practices around soil. Likewise, it must recognize structural violence against women and include a critical gender vision in the normative framework around land. In an institutional space in which one vision has historically predominated, it is important to redefine soil as an essential being for life and as the basis of the biocultural heritage of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities. Only through the recognition of such visions, values, and practices, it is possible to move toward a sustainable, democratic, and respectful management of human rights, soil, and land.

Agroecology has been widely recognized as a science, a practice, and a social movement (Wezel et al., 2009; Rosset and Altieri, 2017), for which epistemic plurality and dialogue of knowledge play a central role. As mentioned earlier, this research was conducted by an intercultural team and from there it can also contribute with reflections not only on the relevance of making visible and incorporating the diversity of ways of relating to and caring for the land or soils as a basis for creating normative frameworks and bioculturally fair agroecological practices but also on the need to implement forms of intercultural and transdisciplinary research. Below we dedicate a few lines to share our reflections on this research process.

The diverse values and visions around soil and nature are so deep and subtle that they have not been made sufficiently visible (Dendoncker et al., 2018). In fact, they have even been intentionally made invisible, so it is necessary to profoundly listen to these communities, recognizing the difficulties involved in sustaining one’s own worldviews in the context of a deeply racist and homogenizing culture. For this, in our research process, the participation of indigenous women was fundamental from the formulation of the objective and the research questions, as well as the constant reflection and self-criticism so as not to impose our worldview and limit the possibility of listening. For example, we learned that the question was not what is the soil but who is the soil or tierrita, nor how the soil is used, but how it is cared for in a reciprocal relationship. In fact, the questions we ask are unconsciously based on our values and imaginaries about nature and are perhaps the most permeated element of ideology and our own visions in the research (Hernández, 2010). It was also essential to have the time, the willingness, and the tools for dialogue that allowed us, sometimes with greater and sometimes with less success, to create a common conceptual ground that would allow us to communicate fluently among the whole team.

A central element to inquire about the worldview was the interviews in indigenous languages, given the close link between language and worldview (Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2008) and the limits presented by language to make explicit different worldviews. Maintaining the same axes of analysis but allowing enough flexibility to adapt to each cultural context and language was a challenge. Likewise, translating responses into Spanish and English represented a challenge. To facilitate an understanding that goes beyond language, for the book Entre el suelo y la tierrita, illustrations were made by a Nahua designer who has lived this relationship with the land (Figure 5), which demonstrates the potential of art to make diverse values visible (Hensler et al., 2021). To meet these challenges, the collaborative nature of the research and the local support networks in the communities were important; families and other community members helped with the translation and interpretation of the responses.

Our team’s intercultural and interdisciplinary way of working made possible an important process of learning and mutual understanding among the different values, as well as the recognition and appreciation of what is characteristic of the communities. The fact that young indigenous women can recognize these tendencies and contribute to change them in local realities, as well as influence the normative system by collaborating with organizations and universities, gives the research a transformative potential. The dialogue between cultures allowed us to identify similarities and differences between the communities; similarities in the problems generated by the current socioeconomic, political, and legal structure, as well as in the reciprocal form of relationship with the land that generates fraternity and mutual commitment to care for diversity within a dominant cultural context that seeks to homogenize and impose dominant values.

The context of the pandemic in which the research was carried out limited the work in the communities. Not all members of the research team were able to carry out fieldwork and it was impossible to organize an intercultural dialogue meeting between the communities (beyond the virtual meetings between the researchers of the communities) that would have helped to deepen the similarities and contrasts around the relationship with the soil/land of the indigenous communities. In addition, group work through virtual means was particularly complicated for the colleagues from the communities in Puebla, Veracruz, and Oaxaca, due to the fact that internet access there is more expensive and unstable, which highlights some of the difficulties of conducting pluricultural research. For future work, it would be important to consider the visions of more indigenous peoples or communities in Mexico and to analyze federal public programs and state and municipal laws and programs. Likewise, we recommend conducting an analysis of international normative instruments in order to evaluate the extent to which the national legal framework complies with the country’s commitments at an international level.

Considering their genesis and their role within ecosystems and biocultural landscapes, soils are and are becoming from the interaction of diverse processes and factors that are related in sometimes nonintuitive ways and occur at different spatial and temporal scales. As with seeds or gastronomic diversity, soil diversity cannot be preserved only in museums or repositories, but its conservation requires ensuring that the multiple processes that have shaped or conserved them can continue to operate in situ, in plots, forests, cities, and peripheries.

Soil degradation and erosion can be battled if it is recognized in theory and practice that people and soils exist in an intricate relationship of interdependence. Indigenous peoples and equivalent communities can enrich the understanding of this relationship through different ways of naming, valuing, working, and caring for soils as the basis for a dignified and sustainable life. The values of reciprocity and respect that the Masewal, Nahua, and Zapotec communities with whom we held a dialogue maintain in their loving relationship with the land have made possible forms of regulation and sustainable management of the soil as important biocultural elements to face the food and climate crisis. These values are threatened by the current economic model, as well as by the regulatory framework that promotes techno-scientific values that contrast sharply with the communities’ own worldviews and systems. The law is dominated by an economic vision that homogenizes the soil as an inert element subject to exploitation by the state and individuals, favoring property in the hands of men.

The forms sustained by the communities occupy only marginal places in the legislation, thus weakening their rights to autonomy and territory, making diverse community management of soils difficult. This has favored the loss of traditional sustainable agricultural practices (such as crop association, organic or green manures, and multiple cropping). It is essential to build bioculturally fair frameworks with a gender perspective that explicitly recognize the worldview, values, and practices of indigenous peoples and equivalent communities, so that we can move toward a sustainable, fair, and respectful management of the land.

The participants of this study did not give written consent for their data to be shared publicly, so due to the sensitive nature of the research supporting data are not available.

The supplemental files for this article can be found as follows:

Spanish version.PDF

We are deeply grateful to the people of the communities who have allowed us to get to know their ways of relating to the land. Their reflections, practices, worldviews, and resistance to soil destruction have been a deep inspiration for us. We extend special thanks to Juliana Merçon, Raquel Zepeda, Luis Enrique Fernández, Gisselle García Manning, and Anaid Velazco for their contributions in the first stage of the research design; as well as to Blanca Hernández Hernández for her help with the revision of the format. We would like to thank Carlos Beas (Unión de Comunidades Indígenas de la Zona Norte del Istmo A.C.), Helena Cotler (Centro de Investigación en Ciencias de Información Geoespacial), Herminio García (Consejo Maseual Altepetajpianij), Lucía Madrid (Consejo Civil Mexicano para la Silvicultura Sostenible A.C.), Luis Enrique Fernández (Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla), Narciso Barrera Bassols (Universidad Autónoma de Querétaro and Grupo de Trabajo Agroecología Política CLACSO, Buenos Aires), and Pánfilo Hernández (Proyecto de Desarrollo Rural Integral Vicente Guerrero, A.C.). We also thank the Universidad Veracruzana Intercultural (UVI) and Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla (BUAP) for their generosity in collaborating and supporting the process, as well as liaising with the students. Special thanks to the coordinators Amanda Ramos García (UVI) and Luis Enrique Fernández (BUAP).

This work was made possible thanks to the financial support of the Ford Foundation.

We did not identify any conflicts of interest among all coauthors.

Research conception and design: LH, XME.

Overall coordination of the collaborative research process: LH.

Design of research questions and objective: BVQ, LBN, LH, YPH, CAM, XME, MB, MGLV, KCGA, MCCI, MDF, DMJD, ASA, MIQP.

Conduction of interviews: MGLV, KCGA, MCCI, MDF, DMJD, ASA, MIQP.

Conduction of interviews support: LH, BVQ, MB.

Interview analysis: BVQ, LH, MGLV, KCGA, MCCI, MDF, DMJD, ASA, MIQP.

Analysis of laws: CAM, LBN, YPH.

Interpretation and comparison: CAM, BVQ, LBN, LH, YPH, XME, MB, MGLV, KCGA, MCCI, MDF, DMJD, ASA, MIQP.

Article writing and revision: LH, MB, LBN, BVQ, YPH.

Final approval of the version to be published: BVQ, LBN, LH, YPH, CAM, XME, MB, MGLV, KCGA, MCCI, MDF, DMJD, ASA, MIQP.

How to cite this article: Hensler, L, Benítez, M, Bracamontes Nájera, L, Vázquez Quesada, B, Popoca Hernández, Y, Sebastián Ángeles, A, Asúnsolo Morales, C, Colohua Ixmatlahua, MDC, Juárez Desion, DM, González Ayohua, KC, Díaz Francisco, M, León Velasco, MG, Quiahua Panzo, MI, Martínez Esponda, X. 2024. From soil to tierrita: Contrasts between Mexican soil regulation and the perspectives, values, and practices of indigenous communities. Elementa: Science of the Anthropocene 12(1). DOI: https://doi.org/10.1525/elementa.2023.00081

Domain Editor-in-Chief: Alastair Iles, University of California Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA

Guest Editor: Francisco J. Rosado May, Universidad Intercultural Maya de Quintana Roo, Mexico

Knowledge Domain: Sustainability Transitions

Part of an Elementa Special Feature: Ways of Knowing and Being for Agroecology Transitions