Conservation in Colombia Leaves Locals Behind

As the government moves to establish a coast guard station in Gorgona Island, local communities claim they have been left out of the process.
A view of Bazán, a small fishing community on the Colombian Pacific Coast near Gorgona Island. (Antonio Cascio)

Many call Gorgona Island “the witch” as it often vanishes from the sight of Afro-descendant communities living 35 kilometres away, in the town of Bazán, on the Colombian Pacific Coast. Although no local communities reside on the island, it serves as a refuge, a compass, and a reference point for weather forecasting in a region where all transportation is conducted by boat and fishing is essential to the economy. 

“Our community sustains itself thanks to fish and ark clams,” said Espaciano Aguirre, a veteran, who, unable to fish due to health issues, rents out his boat to earn a living. “This is the base of the beach’s economy, even for those who don’t work on this directly.” 

The history of Gorgona Island is complex. It was once an Alcatraz-like prison where multiple human rights violations took place, and its existence on the island caused immense adverse effects on the ecosystem. Approximately 70 percent of the island was deforested, and corals were destroyed and used to pave paths. All of this changed in 1984, when the island and its surrounding waters were declared a protected area. Since then, the island and its marine ecosystem have seen an astonishing recovery, visible in the prison quarters that have been taken over by nature. 

Despite the benefits for the ecosystem, the change also meant limitations for communities that benefited economically from fishing in the area, as well as working or trading with the prison’s administration. 

Today, Gorgona is recognized as a successful example of conservation by organizations such as the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and the Marine Conservation Institute. Its 60,305 hectares serve as a sanctuary for terrestrial and marine species and contribute to the sustainability of fisheries and the food security of coastal communities. This achievement was made possible by years of dialogue, which contributed to community members recognising the importance of protecting the ecosystem.  

In fact, bringing fishers on board with conservation was not easy. The government and local communities in Bazán negotiated for years until they reached an agreement in 2010. Locals agreed to a fishing ban within the Marine Protected Area (MPA) around Gorgona island, and in return, they are allowed access to the island to rest during their fishing trips. Additionally, the agreement created participation mechanisms to ensure the communities would be considered in decisions regarding the island.

Espaciano Aguirre, the former fishers’ representative from the Bazán community, poses in the tiny street of Bazán. (Antonio Cascio)

However, despite the close links communities in places like Bazán have with the island, the Colombian government continues to exclude them from benefit sharing and participating in decision-making regarding the island and its surrounding waters—a situation worsened by the ongoing U.S.-backed project to build a coast guard station in Gorgona with military capabilities.

Aguirre warned that the advances in the relationship between the National Parks Service (Parques Nacionales) and the fishers are at risk. “There was a time that a war almost began between the park and the fishers, but after the agreement, the relationship has improved. We don’t want this military base in Gorgona because the relationship could break.” 

The Role of Communities Within the 30×30 Target

Marine Protected Areas like Gorgona Island contribute to the 30×30 target, a benchmark established as part of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework. The outcome of negotiations at the UN’s Biodiversity Conference in 2022, the worldwide commitment seeks to tackle climate change and biodiversity loss by conserving 30 percent of land, water and oceans by 2030.

Beyond protecting the ecosystem, the Convention on Biological Diversity highlights equitable governance as a key element to achieving the 30×30 target. It points out the importance of “ensuring that relevant actors are involved and able to fully participate in their establishment, management and governance and that the costs and benefits of establishing and managing such areas are shared fairly.”

In the case of Gorgona, equitable governance is falling behind. Despite the advances achieved through the 2010 agreement, community members argue that authorities have left them out of planning and decision-making. “Right now, we are neglected by the administration of the park,” said Erito Cevallos, a Bazán fisherman who has spent over 20 years working close to the island. 

In Gorgona, this lack of involvement is evident in the suspension of participation mechanisms, such as the “Guapi fishing node”—a meeting space between the government and fishers that enables dialogue and joint decision-making. This mechanism, based on principles of “co-management” of resources, however, has been inactive since the pandemic, according to community members. 

Sarah Hammed, Blue Parks Director and Senior Scientist at the Marine Conservation Institute, an organisation that granted the Blue Park award to Gorgona last year, recognizes that the inadequate inclusion of communities within Marine Protected Areas is a challenge globally. This is especially true in MPAs with a long history that did not include the communities from the beginning. “In the marine conservation community, we have become much more aware of the key role of local engagement and leadership in marine protection in the last ten years or so.”

A young boy jumps into the sea from one of the piers on Bazán. The community has a close and profound bond with the sea from an early age. (Antonio Cascio)

The exclusion of the communities extends to tourism activities as well. There are almost no boats or boat operators within these communities that comply with the requirement to take tourists to the island, and no training has been given to integrate community members into the region’s tourism industry, according to Domingo Cuero, legal representative of the Guapi Abajo Afro-Descendant Community Council.  

“Employability is very low, and there aren’t projects [linked to the protected area] that include the communities,” he said. 

Locals see the exclusion in the participation of the Park’s administration as part of the historic exclusion to which they have been subjected. “We have presented a set of petitions [to the government], but we haven’t been heard. These include that the tourism operation contract be awarded to a local company, and for community members to be considered for working positions other than cleaners or motorboat operators,” said Cuero. 

Additionally, locals believe that the lack of efforts to generate economic alternatives facilitates pressure on the ecosystem. 

“We don’t have the support to do other activities, and for this reason, some might infringe on the park’s limit when a fishing trip goes badly. At the end of the day, you have to bring something home,” explained Olaya.

Uber Olaya, a fish merchant from Bazán, poses in the hammock in the pier where he loads and downloads the fish to sell in markets. (Antonio Cascio)

Cevallos complains about the poor conditions of the fishers’ shelter on the island, one of the few concessions resulting from the 2010 agreement. “We arrive there to rest because it is the only option we have, but the house is very rundown,” says Cevallos, adding that they get wet inside the shelter when it rains. 

The sense of exclusion is exacerbated by the government’s decision to establish a coast guard station on the island without consulting local communities. Initially proposed in 2017 by former president Juan Manuel Santos, the project includes the construction of a pier, the installation of a radar, and the deployment of military personnel.

The project was also promoted during Ivan Duque’s administration (2018-2022) and defended by the current left-wing government of Gustavo Petro. In an interview, Susana Muhamad, former minister of environment, framed the project as essential to combat drug trafficking and illegal fishing in the Pacific.

Critics of the project have denounced contradictions within the current government, which promised to protect the environment and end the “irrational war on drugs.” Legal battles led by marine experts and community members have delayed the project. Activists, scientists, and community members highlight possible impacts on the ecosystems and a lack of prior consultation.

A humpback whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) breaches off the coast of Gorgona Island. (Antonio Cascio)

“This base would mean the death of fishers,” said Aguirre, who was a fisherman representative at the time of the 2010 accord. They worry that the navy will restrict transit at night, or even bar them from the island itself.

In addition to the fishermen of Bazán, other communities also argue they have been denied participation despite having cultural ties with the island. 

Cuero, who is part of the Guapi Abajo Afro-Descendant Community, sees the island as part of his family history. In the 1980s, his father and five other people were lost at sea for days while fishing. “We held a memorial service and thought he had died before they found him on the backside of the island,” he recalled.  

In 2024, the Community Council of Guapi Abajo won a legal action denouncing a lack of prior consultation regarding the coast guard station. But a few months later, the Constitutional Court overruled the decision, arguing a lack of evidence of the possible negative effects on the communities and giving a green light to the project. 

Armando Palau, a lawyer involved in the legal action to defend the community’s right to prior consultation, said that the court had reversed the burden of proof. This means that the responsibility to demonstrate that there are no adverse effects on the communities incorrectly fell to them, explained Palau. The communities of Guapi and Bazán, along with Palau, are considering taking the case to the Inter-American Commission of Human Rights.

At the same time, they are working on further legal action to revoke the coast guard project’s environmental license, arguing that the government has not met the requirements regarding the environmental impact assessment. 

An armed plainclothes soldier walks around the restricted area of Gorgona Island. (Antonio Cascio)

“The government did not consult with any of the municipalities before making the decision to set up a military base—because that’s what everyone calls it around here—nor the Indigenous territories, nor the [Afro-descendant] community councils,” said Mercedes Colorado, Government Secretary of the municipality of El Charco, where Bazán is located. He says that a total of eight municipalities could be affected by the project in Gorgona. 

Despite the Constitutional Court ruling rejecting the right to prior consultation, the project has not shown recent advances. So far, only the tower for the radar has been installed. Meanwhile, local communities await further developments and decisions by the next government, amid upcoming elections. 

Fears over the security and environmental consequences of having a coast guard station aimed at countering drug trafficking in the island have also intensified amidst the string of U.S. military attacks on alleged drug boats in the Pacific and Caribbean. 

Although the current government has been outspoken against military attacks at sea and has denied U.S. involvement in the project, documents show otherwise. The design of the pier, for instance, was presented by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and the cost of storing the materials, given the delays, was also covered by the United States. 

Opponents, meanwhile, continue to see recent military developments as a threat to Colombia’s biodiversity. “The vision of war brought by the Trump administration corroborates the U.S.’s interest in having this coast guard station in Gorgona. It is part of their national security strategy,” said Palau. “We cannot be talking about conservation, about hotspots of biodiversity, as is the case of Gorgona, to justify war, because war and biodiversity are not compatible.”


Natalia Torres Garzón graduated with an M.Sc. in Globalization and Development at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, United Kingdom. She is a freelance journalist who focuses on social and political issues in Latin America, especially in connection to Indigenous communities, women, and the environment. Her work has been published in The Guardian, Al Jazeera, Mongabay, El País, and others.

Antonio Cascio is an Italian freelance photojournalist and a Reuters photographer stringer, based in Colombia. He focuses his work on social movements, environmental justice, discriminated groups and Indigenous communities. His photographs have been awarded at the Paris Photo Prize 2024-23, IPA, BIFA, and EPA. His pictures have been published by The Guardian, Al Jazeera, El País, Mongabay News, Bloomberg, Le Monde, CNN, BBC, DW, Earth Island, NACLA, Amnesty International, and others.

This story was produced with support from Internews’ Earth Journalism Network.