TheEducation of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America 9781783090969

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
Contributors
Introduction
1. Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America: Widening Gaps between Policy and Practice
2. Partnerships to Promote the Education of Indigenous Citizens
3. Intercultural Bilingual Education in the Andes: Political Change, New Challenges and Future Directions
4. The Tension between Western and Indigenous Knowledge in Intercultural Bilingual Education in Ecuador
5. Indigenous Students as Graduates of Higher Education Institutions in Mexico
6. Beyond Cultural Recognition: Training Teachers for Intercultural Bilingual Education in Guatemala
7. Indigenous Leaders and the Challenges of Decolonization in Bolivia
8. Political Discourse and School Practice in Multilingual Peru
Author Index
Subject Index

Citation preview

The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

BILINGUAL EDUCATION & BILINGUALISM Series Editors: Nancy H. Hornberger, University of Pennsylvania, USA and Colin Baker, Bangor University, Wales, UK Bilingual Education and Bilingualism is an international, multidisciplinary series publishing research on the philosophy, politics, policy, provision and practice of language planning, global English, indigenous and minority language education, multilingualism, multiculturalism, biliteracy, bilingualism and bilingual education. The series aims to mirror current debates and discussions. Full details of all the books in this series and of all our other publications can be found on http://www.multilingual-matters.com, or by writing to Multilingual Matters, St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol BS1 2AW, UK.

The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America Edited by Regina Cortina

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Bristol • Buffalo • Toronto

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America/Edited by Regina Cortina. Bilingual Education and Bilingualism: 95 Includes bibliographical references and index. 1.  Indigenous peoples—Education—Latin America. 2.  Education, Bilingual—Latin America. I. Cortina, Regina, editor of compilation. II. Series: Bilingual education and bilingualism; 95. LC3715.E384 2014 371.829′9808–dc23 2013032427 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-78309-095-2 (hbk) ISBN-13: 978-1-78309-094-5 (pbk) Multilingual Matters UK: St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol BS1 2AW, UK. USA: UTP, 2250 Military Road, Tonawanda, NY 14150, USA. Canada: UTP, 5201 Dufferin Street, North York, Ontario M3H 5T8, Canada. Copyright © 2014 Regina Cortina and the authors of individual chapters. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The policy of Multilingual Matters/Channel View Publications is to use papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products, made from wood grown in sustainable forests. In the manufacturing process of our books, and to further support our policy, preference is given to printers that have FSC and PEFC Chain of Custody certification. The FSC and/or PEFC logos will appear on those books where full certification has been granted to the printer concerned. Typeset by Exeter Premedia Services Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe

Contents

Acknowledgmentsvii Contributorsix Introduction Regina Cortina

1

1

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America: Widening Gaps between Policy and Practice Luis Enrique López

2

Partnerships to Promote the Education of Indigenous Citizens Regina Cortina

3

Intercultural Bilingual Education in the Andes: Political Change, New Challenges and Future Directions Bret Gustafson

74

4

The Tension between Western and Indigenous Knowledge in Intercultural Bilingual Education in Ecuador Carmen Martínez Novo

98

5

Indigenous Students as Graduates of Higher Education Institutions in Mexico Sylvia Schmelkes

124

6

Beyond Cultural Recognition: Training Teachers for Intercultural Bilingual Education in Guatemala María José Aragón

148

v

19 50

vi Contents

7

Indigenous Leaders and the Challenges of Decolonization in Bolivia Luz Jiménez Quispe

8

Political Discourse and School Practice in Multilingual Peru Laura A. Valdiviezo

187



Author Index Subject Index

211 213

169

Acknowledgments

Several graduate students in the International and Comparative Education Program at Teachers College, Columbia University, participated as research and graduate assistants during the development of this book. I wish to thank María José Bermeo, Angélica Quintero, Gloria Calderón and Dina López, with a special thanks to Katy de la Garza and Victor Llanque for assisting during the final editing of the book. As editor of this book, I would like to acknowledge with great gratitude the financial support from the Institute of Latin American Studies at Columbia University for my research and preparation of the final manuscript. This final version of the book benefited from the skillful editing of Wendy Schwartz.

vii

Contributors

María José Aragón is a doctoral student in education at the University of California, Santa Barbara. She received a master’s degree in international educational development from Teachers College, Columbia University; a master’s degree in education from Universidad de San Andrés in Argentina; and a bachelor’s degree in human development from Cornell University. Her research in Argentina and Guatemala has examined the relationship between local teacher education programs and education policies related to cultural diversity. She has worked with nonprofit and international organizations in Latin America and the United States and has spent time in India, where she conducted research on a school-based health education initiative. Her areas of interest include comparative education, international education policy, bilingual education and immigration issues. Regina Cortina is associate professor of Education in the Department of International and Transcultural Studies at Teachers College, Columbia University. Her current work explores European aid to education in Latin America and its strategic importance for the field of comparative and international education. She also studies the role of education in international development, poverty reduction and the ways that greater opportunities can be created for marginalized groups. Her other areas of expertise are gender and education, the education and employment of teachers, public policy and education and the schooling of Latinos in the United States. Among her major publications are Women and Teaching: Global Perspectives on the Feminiza­ tion of a Profession (Palgrave, 2006), Immigrants and Schooling: Mexicans in New York (Center for Migration Studies, 2003) and Distant Alliances: Promoting

ix

x Contributors

Education for Girls and Women in Latin America (Routledge, 2000). She has a doctorate in education, a master’s degree in international and comparative education, and a master’s degree in political science, all from Stanford University; and a bachelor’s degree from the Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City. Bret Gustafson is associate professor of Anthropology at Washington University in St Louis, Missouri. His research on intercultural bilingual education began in Bolivia in 1992 and has primarily focused on the Guarani People of Bolivia; it culminated in the book, New Languages of the State: Indigenous Resurgence and the Politics of Knowledge in Bolivia (Duke University Press, 2009). He continues to write about Indigenous language, education and land issues in Latin America and is also working on a book about the politics of race and school reform in St Louis. Luz Jiménez Quispe, an Aymara woman from Bolivia, is a doctoral candidate at the University of Arizona. She is working with the Scholarship for Education and Economic Development (SEED), hosted by the program of Language, Reading and Culture in the University’s College of Education, whose purpose is to prepare Indigenous teachers and technical teaching assistants from rural areas of Latina America. Her work experience is in four areas: research, teaching, management and public policy. She was a member of the research team at Programa de Formación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos (PROEIB-Andes) and has worked in the Catholic University and the Cordillera University in Bolivia. She was also a coordinator of the project for Educational Councils of Native Peoples (CEPO). Finally, she was a member of the national commission for writing the new Bolivian educational law. Luis Enrique López, a Peruvian sociolinguist and educator, obtained his first degree in linguistics and literature at the Catholic University of Peru in Lima; he later pursued postgraduate studies in linguistics for language teaching and sociolinguistics at the University of Lancaster, England. He specializes in the design, development and evaluation of educational programs in Indigenous multilingual and multicultural contexts. Between 1996 and 2007 he worked in Cochabamba, Bolivia, as Principal Advisor, on behalf of the German Technical Agency (GTZ), at the PROEIB-Andes and promoted the development of a specialized information, documentation and training regional network with universities, Ministries of Education and Indigenous organizations of Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, Chile, Ecuador

Contributors xi

and Peru, for the development of intercultural bilingual education. He was also responsible for a new Indigenous tertiary education joint project which is setting up a network of Latin American universities belonging to nine different countries working with and for Indigenous university students in the areas of Indigenous rights, intercultural health and medicine and intercultural bilingual education. Since October 2007 he has lived in Guatemala where he is coordinator of the Programa de Apoyo a la Calidad de la Educación (PACE) of the German agency Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusam­ menarbeit (GIZ). The program gives special attention to the implementation of quality language education programs in multiethnic contexts. Carmen Martínez Novo is associate professor in the Department of Anthropology and the director of Latin American Studies at the University of Kentucky. Her research focuses on Indigenous peoples in the Andes and the Amazon. Specifically, she studies the idea of multiculturalism within the ‘new left’ in Latin America and its relationship with Liberation Theology in the Catholic Church. She previously worked as a faculty member and researcher for the Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (FLACSO) in Ecuador, and as a researcher examining the relationship between institutions and Indigenous migrants at the Mexico–United States border, which led to the publication of her book, Who Defines Indigenous? Identities, Develop­ ment, Intellectuals and the State in Northern Mexico (Rutgers University Press, 2006). She completed her doctorate in anthropology and her master’s degree in history and anthropology at the New School for Social Research. She completed her bachelor’s degree in geography and history at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. Sylvia Schmelkes is a sociologist at the Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City. She has 34 years of experience in educational research with diverse academic institutions and was the general coordinator of Intercultural and Bilingual Education of the Ministry for Public Education between 2001 and 2007. She currently directs the Institute for Research of Educational Development at the Universidad Iberoamericana. She has written over 150 articles and books on adult education, quality basic education, values education and intercultural education. In 2008, she received the Comenius Medal from UNESCO and the Education Ministry of the Czech Republic. Laura A. Valdiviezo is an assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Amherst. She obtained her doctorate in education from Teachers College, Columbia University; her master’s degree from Clark University;

xii Contributors

and her bachelor’s degree from Pontifica Universidad Católica del Perú. As an ethnographer she has analyzed teachers’ interpretations of educational and language policy and their contributions to multicultural education and diversity in schools that host culturally and linguistically diverse students. Her research has been conducted in international rural/urban contexts including Indigenous and Afro-Latin American communities and urban schools in the United States that serve recent immigrant and refugee families.

Introduction Regina Cortina This book explores the development of intercultural bilingual education throughout Latin America. As a set of educational practices, intercultural bilingual education, which recognizes and preserves the cultural and linguistic diversity of peoples in the Americas, aims to replace longstanding colonialism and the forced assimilation of Indigenous peoples. The implementation of these practices has not been without difficulty and setbacks, since they challenge prevailing assumptions about public education and citizenship in nations across the region. After independence, Latin American nations used the Spanish language as the basis of citizenship and nationhood and as a way to incorporate Indigenous peoples into a homogeneous and dominant culture. Against this background, the progress and the potential of a new educational paradigm are the chief concerns of this book. A central theme of the chapters, each written by a scholar with firsthand knowledge of the region, is the rising political voice of Indigenous movements. Indigenous peoples are demanding the right to quality education for their children and greater opportunities for themselves, equal to those of non-Indigenous citizens, to have a professional career and to participate in the new political and economic reality of Latin American countries. Supporting their efforts, and highlighted in this book, are the strategic alliances between regional Indigenous movements and the European countries that have provided carefully targeted resources to help Latin American countries expand access to quality education for Indigenous children and adolescents. The book also examines larger issues that have an impact on the education of Indigenous peoples, particularly the ways in which the transformative and democratic effects of education interact with forces of inertia and inequality that still pervade the education systems of Latin American countries. Since the last decade of the 20th century, there has been a growing democratization of social and political institutions in most countries in Latin America. That shift has led to the increased mobilization of Indigenous communities, asserting their rights to self-determination within their own territory and their cultural identity as an element of their citizenship. Concurrent with changes in national politics and policies across the region, there have been unprecedented changes in international law, leading to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007. 1

2  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Within this new global context, and as a result of a wider endorsement of the rights of Indigenous peoples, most national constitutions in Latin American countries have been changed to reflect the fact that the countries are multiethnic, multicultural and multilingual. As a consequence, Indigenous communities have increased pressure for recognition of their own heritage – their unique knowledge, culture and languages – and for greater participation in political decision making in their countries. It is within this global transformation that The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America focuses on the inclusion of cultural, ethnic and linguistic diversity and the development of intercultural bilingual education (known as EIB, using the acronym in Spanish for Educación Intercultural Bilingüe) in schools all over the region. Only in the last decade of the 20th century Indigenous students were able to enter higher education institutions not as assimilated students who spoke only Spanish, but as representatives of their own culture with their identity and language empowering them to advance in society. This introductory chapter traces the trajectories of education policies and practices over the last century to provide a context for understanding the development, implementation and transformation of intercultural bilingual education. It then provides an overview of the research, discussions and analysis presented in each of the chapters included in The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America.

Intercultural Bilingual Education This book addresses the nexus between globalization, national policies and the education of Indigenous citizens. From a global perspective, the expansion of intercultural bilingual education has had a notable impact as national social movements have worked together with international aid agencies to strengthen access to education for members of Indigenous communities in Latin America. Using countries as case studies, the authors of the chapters examine the national political discourse; the growing public dialogue on Indigenous rights, decolonization and autonomy; Indigenous social movements as political actors; and changes made by the State to ensure access to quality education for the most marginalized groups in present-day Latin America. A cross-cutting theme of the chapters is the recognition that education as a political issue grew from the initiatives of Indigenous movements in the region – that is, a bottom-up approach to cultural and educational policies, except in the case of Mexico where intercultural bilingual education has expanded through a top-down model supported by the State.

Introduction 3

The studies presented in the chapters contribute to the definition and conceptual exploration of interculturalidad, or interculturality, which refers to heightened communication between cultures. Interculturality is not the mere presence of diversity or pluralism, and it is not to be confused with multiculturalism. Rather, it is the teaching and understanding of two different cultures on an equal footing through the schooling process, and as such it is the foundation for intercultural bilingual education. Beyond the immediate educational goal of improving the schooling for Indigenous children, the ultimate goal of EIB is to create a more democratic political order that allows for the voice of Indigenous peoples in the social, political, cultural and economic process, as well as the full recognition of their citizenship, and the elimination of the ethnic and racial exclusion they have traditionally suffered.

The Nature of EIB As a pedagogical model, EIB has evolved as an alternative to transitional bilingual programs, which have been used all over the region since the beginning of the 20th century for teaching Spanish to Indigenous communities. One central aspect of the past programs was the forced assimilation of Indigenous communities. In contrast to bilingual education that is solely focused on the teaching of language, the aim of EIB is to create a level playing field for the teaching of two different cultures in order to eliminate the hierarchy that had been imposed since colonial times and that treated Spanish as superior and the language of schooling. For democratization to take place, it is necessary to emphasize the important role of schools in building an intercultural conception of the nation and its citizens based on an acknowledgment of cultural, linguistic and ethnic diversity. Intellectuals and social scientists in Latin America have contributed to an awareness of the persistence of racial hierarchies established during the colonial period in the structures, policies and education programs of countries in the region. In contrast to the neocolonial structures that maintain the racial and ethnic subordination of Indigenous communities, intercultural bilingual education emerged in the tradition of popular education in Latin America, using the relationship between the school and the local community to oppose the agenda of assimilation and racial hierarchy. Of the various lenses used to recognize the purposes behind intercultural bilingual education, the one that most emphasizes breaking with the colonial past is decolonization. As the authors of the chapters explain, through interculturality the hope is to move beyond the presumed dominance of

4  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Western knowledge and language over Indigenous knowledge and language, to reevaluate cultural differences and to build upon these differences in creating a new political understanding that recognizes the presence of Indigenous peoples and their cultures within the nation–State. As a learning pedagogy, EIB teaches students in their Indigenous language and in Spanish so that they develop literacy in both languages and are prepared to continue their education past elementary school. Most importantly, the goal is for children to learn to recognize the value of their own culture at the same time that they acquire knowledge about and respect for others.

The Background and Context of EIB Projects to develop EIB began to emerge in the 1970s throughout Latin America, supported by national and transnational actors. They focused on improving access to quality education to achieve the international goals of education for all. The main objectives were to improve the education of teachers, to create curricula and teaching materials and to launch in-service and preservice professional educational development – all with the aim of helping teachers to develop new pedagogical practices that incorporate the knowledge of the communities and their language into the schools. National ministries of education were slow to support this educational reform. The impact of educational policy on the education of Indigenous citizens varies among Latin American countries. In some, as will be reported in the case of Mexico, Indigenous students are not facing a significant amount of discrimination as they reaffirm their native identity. In other countries, the response to increased attention to Indigenous groups has been overt racism. Overall, historically, Indigenous groups have lagged behind other segments of the population in social and economic indicators across all countries of Latin America. They constitute a larger proportion of those in poverty, receive a lower quality education than other groups and complete fewer years of schooling. In the chapters that follow, the authors trace the trajectory of the policies, concepts and actions that shape EIB, paying special attention to how EIB was adapted and appropriated at local, national and transnational levels. The chapters address four central themes: the demand of Indigenous movements for EIB, the impact of international aid on knowledge creation and the development of the academic field of EIB, the opening of higher education institutions to Indigenous students, and social and political actors in the implementation and transformation of EIB.

Introduction 5

Intercultural Education for All At the core of the research presented in these pages is the dilemma confronting Indigenous peoples as they pursue their right to self-determination, while also insisting upon their right to be citizens equal with all other citizens within the democratic process taking place in Latin American countries. The dilemma involves preservation of their cultures alongside their willingness to be part of a larger national society. The development of a truly intercultural society will be the result of the collective work of policy makers, educators and community members. The hope is that all levels of education become sites where an intercultural dialogue can occur within and between groups. Higher education institutions are slowly becoming more inclusive in the region. However, as the chapters show, the results are uneven. Moreover, there is evidence that governments are sponsoring institutions almost exclusively for Indigenous students, which might create a separate enclave for these students and could, in the absence of sufficient funding, be perceived as second-class universities in contrast to the elite public system. Thus, important questions remain: how can universities respond to the shift toward interculturality? Can they become sites where Indigenous knowledge and visions grow and develop alongside other forms of knowledge? What role is higher education playing in reducing the homogenization previously imposed by the national policies of public education since the beginning of the 20th century? What roles can universities play in the future to help Latin American societies develop toward greater diversity and inclusion?

Community Engagement and Quality Education The implementation of EIB as an educational practice has encountered many roadblocks in the last 40 years. These difficulties often start with lack of political will and resources from the national ministries of education to invest in Indigenous schools, followed by all the technical difficulties of teaching students in basic education across all their native languages, a situation complicated by the lack of Indigenous teachers who are literate and knowledgeable of the native languages of the community. Even though the development of resources – curricula, textbooks and teaching guides – has benefited greatly from the support of international agencies, the most important element for the expansion of EIB is community engagement, the possibility that the community will participate actively in the education of their children. Intercultural bilingual education as a pedagogical model for education reforms can be placed in the context of popular education and participatory

6  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

pedagogies that emerged in the regions since the 1960s with the teachings and writings of Paulo Freire and his many followers. At the center of Freire’s model is the association between the community and the school as the social process that sustains teaching and learning. The collaboration of social and Indigenous movements with international aid agencies and the support and the presence of NGOs to advocate for the development of intercultural bilingual education notwithstanding, it is essential for the children’s parents to understand and support the EIB initiative. In many cases, however, because of their own socialization, parents believe their children are better off learning only Spanish. But it is at the community level where intercultural bilingual education can develop a new meaning for education and gain momentum in helping to construct a more inclusive democracy for all citizens.

The Contents of The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education Chapter 1 begins with a regional overview of basic information about Indigenous peoples and their languages in order to indicate the linguistic and cultural diversity present today in Latin American countries. It traces the long history of bilingual education in most countries and the slow movement toward the development of intercultural bilingual education (EIB). It also provides evidence that the educational needs of all Indigenous children and adolescents are far from being met because of the mostly monolingual and assimilationist education models used in the region since the beginning of the 20th century. Sociologist Luis Enrique López addresses the widening gaps between policy and practice in EIB as a framework for discussing the educational situation of the most marginalized children and adolescents in Latin America: those living in Indigenous homes and communities. Specifically, he describes the development and implementation of EIB in three countries: Bolivia, Guatemala and Mexico. Both Mexico and Guatemala have top-down policies, but in Mexico policies are State driven and in Guatemala policies are driven by international donors. By contrast, Bolivian policies reflect a bottom-up model initiated by Indigenous political demands and grassroots and community involvement. Interestingly, the chapters included in this volume present three contrasting perspectives on the development of EIB in Bolivia during the 1990s. While López in his chapter characterizes the implementation of EIB in Bolivia as a straightforward case of a ‘bottom-up’ approach, Jiménez in

Introduction 7

Chapter 7 characterizes the implementation in quite the opposite fashion, emphasizing the role of the State in the context of neoliberal restructuring. Between these two perspectives, Gustafson in Chapter 3 is unwilling to pose these developments in such stark terms. He lays out the fraught nature of negotiation and compromise between the state and Indigenous movements during this period. López’s chapter describes the present-day educational situation in each country and provides the historical background of EIB implementation within the wider context of State policies vis-à-vis the ethnic, cultural and linguistic diversity across Latin America. Intercultural bilingual education aims, objectives and strategies are discussed from a regional perspective. Differences are established between governmental EIB models and strategies and those implemented by NGOs and/or Indigenous organizations. This distinction is important, since government models generally focus on the technicalities of EIB and of school bilingualism, while grassroots emphasis is placed on the cultural and political aims of education, thus considerably expanding the underlying notion of educational quality. Grassroots perspectives regard education as a political resource that could help the Indigenous movement advance other Indigenous claims, thus contributing to the transformation of their political reality. López’s regional overview and comparison constitute a helpful introduction to the chapters that follow, which focus in-depth on educational policies and practices in Bolivia, Ecuador, Guatemala, Mexico and Peru. The Indigenous peoples of these five countries represent more than 80% of the total Indigenous population of the region. Further, López draws specific attention to the existing gaps between academic discourse and political rhetoric at times of increased Indigenous visibility and political participation as related to policy implementation at the community and school levels. He assesses models and strategies implemented in the three countries to present recommendations for improving policy and practice for both top-down and bottom-up approaches. The chapter concludes with a call for action to maintain the centrality of EIB for the improvement of quality education in Latin America, noting the urgent need to expand this pedagogy to secondary schools across the region.

International Aid, Knowledge Creation and the Development of an Academic Field Chapter 2 examines the collaboration between social movements and international European aid agencies in support of EIB. The context is the

8  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

relationship between the marginalization of Indigenous groups in Latin America and the efforts of European agencies to overcome past exclusion of those groups through quality education and leadership training. Building upon the academic literature on education and development, education researcher Regina Cortina asserts that bilateral aid attempts to establish a new multilateral agenda, collaborating with governments and creating new forms of engagement with civil society. To examine major support for research and implementation for quality education from the German technical assistance program (GIZ), the chapter focuses on two GIZ-funded projects in Peru and Bolivia. The chapter first examines PROEDUCA (known by its name in Spanish, Programa de Educación Básica) in Peru, which was committed to the professional development of teachers in four rural areas from 2002 to 2007. It reviews the national debate that forced GIZ to abandon PROEDUCA and its support of more than 30 years for the improvement of quality education for Indigenous peoples in Peru. The chapter next focuses on Bolivia’s Program for Professional Development in Intercultural and Bilingual Education for the Andean Countries (PROEIB-Andes). An internationally recognized center for EIB education, this program is now integrated into the public university and, after 12 years of sustained cooperation, no longer receives German support. As the chapter demonstrates, the impetus for German technical assistance was recognition of the ethnic, cultural and linguistic diversity of Latin America and the desire to support the professional development of teachers, principals and regional administrators who are all essential to the provision of meaningful basic education to the poor and marginalized Indigenous citizens of the continent. Cortina moves on to demonstrate that the alliance between Indigenous movements and European aid is not enough, since the partner of the donor’s aid project is the national government where the Indigenous peoples live, and often the aim of national educational policies is not to redress past inequality. She describes the national debates on educational policy, particularly the stark divisions over the commission of State resources to quality education for marginalized Indigenous citizens. She concludes by showing that one noticeable result of foreign aid agency participation is the evolution of EIB as an alternative education pedagogy and practice within a complex framework of interaction between Indigenous peoples’ initiatives, education initiatives from their respective national governments, bilateral agencies, multilateral agencies and what she calls transnational intellectual networks of social scientists and linguists working across borders to support the development of EIB. Beyond its projects in Peru and Bolivia and with an eye toward sustainability, GIZ invested substantially in the development of human resources

Introduction 9

and specialized educational materials at the same time that it was channeling funding and technical assistance to other areas, such as the development of master’s degrees for the network of the Latin American Universidad Indígena Intercultural and for the expansion of teacher professional development in Guatemala, discussed by María José Aragón in Chapter 6.

Political Change in the Andes Chapter 3 discusses national education reforms that for the past 30 years have opened space for new EIB educational practices in Indigenous languages and Spanish for Indigenous peoples across the Andes. Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia, the three Andean countries with the largest and most politically mobilized Indigenous organizations, have seen more and less forceful efforts to implement Indigenous language education initiatives for the several millions of native language speakers. Anthropologist Bret Gustafson describes the implementation of EIB as deeply political, given its many opponents. The possibility of EIB emerges through complex political and institutional relationships between foreign donors, bilateral and multi­lateral agencies, NGOs, state institutions, academic networks and Indigenous political organizations. While much evaluative work on Indigenous language education revolves around technical challenges and achievement outcomes, efforts to implement EIB are intensely political because they generally challenge dominant neocolonial models of schooling and nation building and because they emerge in and through complex fields of State education and politics. Gustafson traces the recent transformations in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia in order to examine changing state policies, Indigenous movement and donor relations and to identify the broader political and ideological implications of EIB initiatives. He considers the recent transformations and ongoing patterns through three interpretative approaches to what intercultural bilingual education might achieve: neoliberal multicultural reformism, state minoritization and decolonization. The neoliberal multicultural reforms suggest that the implementation of EIB is a way that neoliberal governments are attempting to defuse the challenge presented by Indigenous groups demanding cultural and territorial rights. The multicultural reformist approach suggests that intercultural and multilingual schooling responds to Indigenous demands but bears within it a minoritizing effect that works to prevent Indigenous peoples – territorially, socially and institutionally – from inclusion in the wider national policy. The third approach sees EIB, both in its possibilities

10  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

and its limitations, through the lens of decolonization, which is the progressive dismantling of racist, patriarchal and class inequalities and the pursuit of new modalities of pluralist democracy for all citizens. By tracing recent policy transformations and political dynamics in these three Andean countries, and considering the complex convergence of state, donor and movement agendas, the chapter draws some general conclusions about the institutional and ideological positions and potentials of education transformation in these countries. Gustafson suggests that the goals of Indigenous social movements are undermined by a lack of continuity in donor commitments, shifting governmental priorities, pressing issues of structural poverty and the intensification of struggles over natural resources and territory. Of the three interpretative approaches presented to describe EIB implementation, he argues that decolonization is the most ambitious and transformative mode of conceptualization. Many technical and financial challenges stand in the way of introducing new curricular practices, and they are reflected in tensions between global development paradigms, the new aims of the nation–State, and the wider dimensions of Indigenous peoples’ struggles. By considering variations within and across countries, the chapter offers a series of critical propositions for Indigenous and non-Indigenous education activists, policy makers and donor agencies. Gustafson seeks to encourage the imagining of EIB beyond the isolating tendencies of cultural preservation, moving toward broader possibilities of intercultural and bilingual schooling as crucial components of political and economic democratization and decolonization of the State and of public education in the Andes.

Indigenous Knowledge in Higher Education Chapter 4 reports on the status of Indigenous knowledge within higher education through an innovative and collaborative research project undertaken by the chapter’s author, historian Carmen Martínez Novo, and a team of Indigenous graduate students from the Latin American Faculty for the Social Sciences (FLACSO) in Ecuador. The chapter considers why Indigenous peoples in Ecuador created an intercultural bilingual system of education and how they implemented it. Essentially, they needed to overcome their historical exclusion from education in order to be able to fight the necessary legal battles to improve their plight; it was necessary to have an education system that would not discriminate against them. Martínez Novo explores the tensions between the desire for inclusion within the modern Ecuadorian society and the preservation of tradition in the intercultural

Introduction 11

bilingual education system in Ecuador. Whereas non-Indigenous supporters promoted the teaching of a particular version of tradition in inter­cultural schools and universities, Indigenous students sought access to modern knowledge, such as literacy in Indigenous languages and Spanish, basic math, English and computer technology. Martínez Novo argues that the explanation for these tensions can be found in historical precedents. To create their own education system, Indigenous peoples needed the help of advocates such as Catholic theologians, international aid agencies, anthropologists and ethnolinguists who typically sought to preserve what they understood as Indigenous culture and identity. Thus, while Indigenous communities saw formal education as a tool for achieving social mobility, their advocates visualized intercultural education as a way to preserve the traditional cultures. The findings of the ethnographic study reported in this chapter show that native forms of knowledge are almost absent from the intercultural bilingual school system. Indigenous languages are taught as the content area of particular classes instead of as a means of communication for all academic subjects. Furthermore, when Indigenous languages are used, the purpose is often to introduce Western concepts into the native culture, particularly nationalistic artifacts such as the national anthem, which is typically translated into different native languages. If native languages are barely used, native cultural elements are even rarer in intercultural schools. Meanwhile, these Indigenous cultural elements flourish in communitarian spaces outside the school system, particularly in the daily interactions between elders and youngsters. Elders elaborate oral traditions in ways that communicate Indigenous worldviews, such as the porous boundaries between human and animal worlds, and between culture and nature. Oral traditions also teach native understandings of history and modernity to youngsters: for example, the dangers and opportunities that come with migration to cities and the subtleties of paternalism in the era of the haciendas. The chapter also analyzes interculturalism in higher education. The few intercultural universities that exist in Ecuador are perceived by their Indigenous students as second-class institutions in relation to mainstream universities. According to the research of FLACSO graduates, most students would have liked to attend a mainstream university but chose an intercultural college instead because of its lower tuition and flexible schedule that allowed them to continue working. As in elementary schools, Indigenous languages are taught in these institutions as the content of particular classes, not as a means of advanced academic communication. Moreover, Indigenous professors typically teach Indigenous culture using the writings of non-Indigenous authors. The writings of non-Indigenous authors are sometimes racist, and

12  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

are then imposed on Indigenous students who are tested for compliance with the perspectives they have learned. Meanwhile, students in intercultural universities struggle to achieve mainstream competencies and secure a university diploma that will lead to a good job. The chapter concludes with a reflection about whether popular culture can be institutionalized within the school or the university system without losing its nature and complexity. While native populations deem Indigenous knowledge fundamental, they do not see the formal school system as the place to teach it. Martínez Novo recommends that advocates of intercultural education rethink their educational agendas to take into account grassroots Indigenous voices and points of view.

Indigenous Students as Graduates of Higher Education Moving away from the Andes and turning to Mexico, Chapter 5 highlights a study conducted at Mexican universities on Indigenous students who were able to graduate, following their labor market experiences once they graduated. Six universities in different regions of Mexico were the focus of the study: two public universities, two private universities and one intercultural university. Framed by a typology of existing higher education programs for Indigenous students, the chapter provides detailed information on the earlier decisions of Indigenous students that brought them to higher education, their adaptation process and experiences within the university and their subsequent labor market experiences. It describes the transformation of the students’ identity, their experiences of discrimination and their relationships with their community of origin. Specifically, education researcher Sylvia Schmelkes sought to determine whether racism played a role in the graduate students’ higher education trajectories and whether gender discrimination was an additional obstacle for the 43% of Indigenous women who comprised the sample of Indigenous and non-Indigenous graduates. Out of the many study findings highlighted by the chapter, three stand out: the absence of discrimination in the public higher education institutions, the exclusionary discrimination in the two private Jesuit universities and the empowerment of Indigenous languages and identity in the intercultural universities. Regarding gender discrimination, the chapter reports that many of the Indigenous women suffered discrimination in their families and precollege employment regarding their desire to become educated. The study

Introduction 13

also found, however, that a university education empowered the Indigenous women, strengthening their self-respect and contributing to increased respect from their families. Overall, Schmelkes concludes that having a university education provides unexpected opportunities for social mobility for Indigenous students; it also contributes to graduates’ strengthening and redefining their Indigenous cultural identity and helps ensure that Indigenous knowledge and languages will persist through the generations.

The Politics of EIB Implementation Teacher professional development for EIB is the crux of implementing quality EIB education. Chapter 6 makes this point through a case study of Guatemala that focuses on the Academic Program for Professional Teacher Development (Programa Académico de Desarrollo Profesional Docente [PADEP/D]), a public teacher education program at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala. The program was developed in a partnership between the Ministry of Education and the national teachers’ union, with technical support from GIZ. Some of the findings reported in the chapter corroborate what research in other countries has found regarding the difficulties in improving teacher development for EIB schools: teachers’ assumptions that the place of Indigenous languages is at home, not in schools; the use of Indigenous languages mostly as a transition to Spanish literacy, since most teachers do not speak the language of the community; and the requirement for teachers to receive basic classes on the Indigenous languages of the communities where they teach. In this chapter, education researcher María José Aragón explores the sustainability of EIB. Toward that end, one of the remarkable supporters in the case of Guatemala is the national teachers’ union – remarkable because in most countries such unions are not part of this reform model, although the support of teachers and their unions has been essential for the sustainability of the program. Through interviews conducted in Guatemala, Aragón was also able to identify the problems encountered in the implementation of the program, such as lack of support for adopting the new pedagogy within the classroom and the lack of materials and resources in the Indigenous languages of the community. Most importantly, the chapter points out that for a reform program focused on Indigenous knowledge and traditions, not enough attention has been given to how to bring into the classroom the cultural resources of the students and their communities in order to avoid presenting stereotyped images of culturally diverse Indigenous communities.

14  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

As is the case in other countries, EIB in Guatemala is part of current education policy, but greater attention needs to be given to teacher professional development for the implementation of the EIB curriculum. Most of the existing training programs are isolated and grow out of local initiatives, rather than drawing from a unified effort led by national authorities.

The Challenges of Decolonization Chapter 7 brings us to recent education reforms in Bolivia, where education reform is at the center of the decolonization process taking place in Bolivian politics. Aymara researcher Luz Jiménez explores the political, theoretical and pedagogical dimensions of decolonization and its effects on education policies, particularly with regard to the role of Indigenous teachers and Educational Councils of Native Peoples (Consejos Educativos de los Pueblos Originarios [CEPO]). Her analysis of the situation in Bolivia is informed by theories developed by social scientists in Latin America who considered ways that the social, economic and political structures established during colonialism based on racial identities are present today in the global system of power. She uses the concepts of coloniality of power (the social classification of the world population around the idea of race) and coloniality of knowl­ edge (the exclusion of the knowledge and practices of groups placed in an inferior social position) to explain both the exclusion of Indigenous knowledge and the present organization of the countries in the region. Based on these theories, Jiménez argues that, alternatively, decolonization refers to a post-Western perspective that inverts the power relations between Western and Indigenous knowledge and this is the purpose of the present education reform in Bolivia. The chapter further provides a historical background for understanding the educational system in Bolivia, the assimilationist nature of education policy, and the imposition of Spanish as the language of instruction in the 1950s. After his election as president, with support from his political party, Movement to Socialism (Movimiento al Socialismo (MAS)), Evo Morales made education reform one of the key components of his agenda. By 2010, the new Avelino Siñani-Elizardo Pérez Bolivian Education Law (ASEP Law) was approved by the Bolivian legislature. It was formulated from the bottom up through the participation of CEPOs, Indigenous social movements, teachers’ unions and academics. The chapter highlights the central role that teachers have played in the process of decolonization and, using interviews, discusses their reflections on the significance of the new law in their daily education practice. Despite wide support for the new educational reforms,

Introduction 15

there is uncertainty about what decolonization means and how it can be implemented in the educational system.

Teacher Agency and School Practice Reflecting on the question of why Indigenous peoples have not been able to attain full citizenship in Peru, Chapter 8 situates itself in past and present debates within the country about cultural and linguistic diversity, and considers whether such diversity is good or bad for economic development. Education researcher Laura A. Valdiviezo presents an ethnographic case study of one teacher’s pedagogic approach to interculturality in Peru. She juxtaposes it with an analysis of long existing practices of Indigenous exclusion in order to shed light on the complexities of policy design and implementation. The chapter describes prevalent colonial images of Indigenous peoples and knowledge in contemporary Peru, first as superstitious and backward, and second as a major impediment to economic progress. It shows that such characterizations have been widespread and deeply ingrained in social practice and uses political statements by successive Peruvian presidents to show that these characterizations, together with pervasive racism in Peruvian society, have contributed to the justification of violence against Indigenous peoples at many different moments over the history of Peru. Within this sociopolitical context, the incorporation of the concept of interculturality into education and government policy discourse in Peru since the mid-1990s has led to an important shift from discourses of exclusion to those of pluralism and democratic participation for all. The coexistence of exclusion and inclusion has permeated education pedagogies and practices in ways that continue to reproduce inequality and the social, economic and political marginalization of Indigenous peoples and other ethnolinguistic minorities in Peru. The chapter also examines an attempt to incorporate intercultural practices into school curricula and teachers’ understanding of interculturality in the context of an Indigenous Quechua-speaking school in the southern Peruvian Andes. This case is presented in the context of the implementation of intercultural bilingual education in a primary school located in an Indigenous community. Teachers in this school had years of experience in the EIB program, but they were not prepared to be bilingual teachers, nor did they receive professional development addressing intercultural pedagogy. As has been the tendency in many public schools implementing EIB, teachers received little or no support from national authorities and were left to finding their own means to implement intercultural education. It is within this

16  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

contradictory policy environment, which promotes intercultural education through written laws and demotes it through daily action, that the EIB teacher becomes a creative agent reinterpreting policy in practice.

Conclusion and Nascent Debates The chapters in this volume identify commonalities but also divergences in understanding the implementation of EIB in Latin America. In Bolivia, as mentioned above, the authors take three contrasting perspectives, one seeing the process as a straightforward case of a ‘bottom-up’ mobilization, a second taking the opposite view and emphasizing the role of the State in the context of neoliberal restructuring, while the third rejects that contrast and focuses on State and Indigenous movement negotiation and compromise. Another example of divergent perspectives can be found in the treatment of Western versus Indigenous knowledge in Chapter 4 and Chapter 7. The former emphasizes that Indigenous students seek Western knowledge as they go to the university, while the non-Indigenous allies promoting education for Indigenous peoples focus on the revitalization of Indigenous culture and languages. In contrast, Chapter 7 treats the Western–Indigenous dichotomy as the starting point for discussing decolonization. Within that perspective, the Western and Indigenous cultures both must be critically engaged in order to create a post-Western dynamic to change power relations in favor of Indigenous peoples who have been oppressed since colonial times. I wish to conclude this introduction by encouraging other researchers to continue studying the political and policy issues related to the implementation of intercultural bilingual education in Latin America. The book provides an in-depth discussion of interculturality and its role in reconstructing national identities, along with related themes such as the role of education in the creation of national identities, political representation of marginalized groups, and empowerment through education to eliminate ethnic and racial discrimination. Much more remains to be done, but the hope is that the present volume will provide a foundation for new work and deeper understanding of this critically important phenomenon in Latin America. The global mobilizations that led to the adoption of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007 and the widespread support for the rights of Indigenous communities were the impetus behind the expansion of EIB. The research in this book on the development of national policies in five countries across the region with the largest percentage of Indigenous citizens seeks to inform Indigenous peoples, international donor agencies, researchers, national education policy makers

Introduction 17

and practitioners in countries in the region about progress in the expansion and improvement of EIB. The contributions by the authors included in this volume make available an account of the collaboration between national social movements and transnational intellectual networks to describe and analyze how social change is taking place at the local and regional levels. Advances in many countries are closely related to transnational advocacy in support of quality education for Indigenous children and adolescents from the international donor community, bilateral and multilateral agencies, as well as social scientists and linguists across national borders. A prevalent theme is that the establishment of EIB as an educational pedagogy and practice in the region has not been without complications. The book shows that advances in international legal frameworks and reforms to the national constitutions protecting Indigenous peoples’ rights often are not visible at the local and regional levels. Several of the chapters point out the lack of coordination between national educational administrators in the enactment of reforms within communities and schools. The research presented on national policies on EIB aims to inform education policy makers and practitioners in countries across the region with the hope of eliminating poverty and reducing inequality in education. The efforts by the authors included in this volume to describe and analyze how social change is taking place at the local and regional levels acknowledge the transnational advocacy that is taking place in support of quality education for Indigenous children and adolescents. Moreover, one of the central topics in the chapters is how to prepare teachers for EIB, since it not only requires participatory and community action pedagogy, but also the professional development of teachers to be able to expand their own literacy to teach the Indigenous language of the region. The quality of teaching and learning and the financial resources available to support EIB remain legitimate concerns. The chapters presented in the book represent a call for action for researchers, teachers, policy makers and Indigenous leaders who wish to learn about the trajectory of the expansion of EIB in the five country case studies that this book explores in detail. The hope is that each and every culture will be able to represent itself in a respected way within society and in all forms of government and education.

Next Steps for Research It is important now that researchers continue studying the political and policy issues related to the implementation of EIB in Latin America. Among the areas in need of further research are the following.

18  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Most EIB schools are in rural areas, even though a significant percentage of Indigenous children and adolescents are in urban areas. Policies are needed to expand EIB to urban areas and provide professional development to teachers and administrators that will help to implement these policies in urban schools. We do not have enough research on how EIB is affecting the education of Indigenous girls and whether it is contributing to greater gender equality. We need to study the question of whether EIB pedagogical models help Indigenous girls to finish elementary school and move toward the completion of secondary school. Regarding higher education, the percentage of Indigenous students who have had access to this level of education is still very small across the region. Both public and private universities need to increase the scholarship support they are providing for Indigenous students to gain access to their institutions. One of the remarkable findings from the Mexico study is that the number of Indigenous students who speak an Indigenous language is larger than in their parents’ generation. We need to find out what is happening in terms of Indigenous language ability for the younger generation in other countries. Moving forward, the research agenda for EIB needs to focus on finding better quantitative indicators on how successful the EIB model of education has been for improving the quality of education that Indigenous children receive. Disparities in access to schooling and the quality of education for Indigenous children will influence the comparative analysis of academic achievement between rural and urban schools. The hope is that this book will succeed in focusing attention on a pressing educational issue in the region and that it will help to improve opportunities for Indigenous citizens.

1 Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America: Widening Gaps between Policy and Practice Luis Enrique López Introduction With 30–50 million Indigenous inhabitants, over 650 Indigenous peoples and more than 550 different languages spoken in 21 countries, Latin America is one of the most linguistically and culturally diverse areas of the world. Nearly one-fifth of these Indigenous languages are transnational or cross-border. In most of the areas that configure the region, cultural, linguistic and biological diversity go hand-in-hand; as there are endangered biological species, so are Indigenous languages at risk. It is estimated that at least 111 of the remaining 557 living Indigenous languages (20%) are on the verge of extinction (López, 2009). The size of the Indigenous populations varies considerably across countries. Most Indigenous peoples are concentrated in the Andean region and in Mesoamerica (approximately 90% of the total). In contrast, in the Amazonian basin and the tropical forests the population of a single Indigenous peoples averages no more than 250 (cf. Sichra, 2009). In countries like Bolivia and Guatemala, they constitute demographic majorities (66% and 40%, respectively); in others, like El Salvador and Brazil, they are small minorities (0.2% and 0.4%, respectively). Politically and socially, however, all Indigenous peoples ought to be considered as minorities and thus regarded as subaltern societies or communities (Spivak, 1988). Above all, structural racism, discrimination and exclusion, and the continuation of colonial policies and practices, hinder the exercise of Indigenous rights and of human rights in general. Indigenous populations are no longer found only in remote rural areas in the highlands or in the tropical forests. Indigenous communities and individuals have extended their influence into cities and towns. Furthermore, 19

30

36.260.160 232.111 8.090.732 169.872.856 15.116.435 41.468.384 3.810.179 12.156.608 5.744.113 201.996 11.237.196 751.223 6.076.885

Argentina (2001)

Belize (2000)

Bolivia (2001)

Brazil (2000)

Chile (2002)

Colombia (2005)

Costa Rica (2000)

Ecuador (2001)

El Salvador (2007)

French Guiana (1999)

Guatemala (2002)

Guyana (2001)

Honduras (2001) 7

9

24

6

3

12

8

83

9

241

36

4

Indigenous peoples

Total national population

Country and date of National Census

440.313

68.819

4.487.026

3.900

13.310

830.418

65.548

1.392.623

692.192

734.127

5.358.107

38.562

600.329

#

7.2

9.1

39.9

1.9

0.2

6.8

1.7

3.3

4.6

0.4

66.2

16.6

1.6

%

Indigenous population

Table 1.1  Indigenous peoples, populations and languages in Latin America

6

9

24

6

1

12

7

65

6

186

33

4

15

Indigenous languages

Languages of education

Languages of education

National languages

Languages of education

No recognition

Of official regional use

Languages to be preserved

Co-official with Spanish

Languages of education

Languages of education

Co-official with Spanish

No recognition

Languages of education

Political status of Indigenous languages

20  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

0 37

2.839.177 5.163.198 28.220.764 436.935 3.241.003 23.054.210 479.754.341

Panama (2000)

Paraguay (2002)

Peru (2008)

Surinam (2006)

Uruguay (2004)

Venezuela (2001)

Latin America

29.491.090

534.816

115.118

6.601

3.919.314

108.308

285.231

292.244

9.504.184

6.1%

2.3

3.5

1.5

13.9

2.0

10.0

5.7

9.4

557

37

0

5

43

20

8

6

64

Co-official with Spanish

No recognition

No recognition

Of official regional use

Guarani as co-official

Languages of education

Of official regional use

Co-official with Spanish

Sources: Adapted from Tables 3 and 6 in López (2009). Notes: Although official, this information must be considered with caution since many technical and sociological problems persist in census data collection. Due to the subaltern condition of Indigenous societies, and also as part of a resistance strategy, many Indigenous individuals deny their ethnic affiliation and even the language they speak in order to present themselves as mestizos or Spanish or Portuguese speaking. In other cases, data collectors themselves, on the basis of their own perceptions and prejudices, decide who is to be registered as Indigenous or even as an Indigenous language speaker. Other sources based on estimates and on nonofficial data refer to 40 or even 50 million Indigenous inhabitants in Latin America (10% of the total population) (see López, 2009).

661

5

43

20

8

9

5.142.098

Nicaragua (2005)

67

100.638.078

Mexico (2000)

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  21

22  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

there are instances where large sectors of a specific Indigenous group are urban, as is the case of most Nahuatls in Mexico, Kaqchikeles in Guatemala, Aymaras in Bolivia and also Quechuas in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. For instance, 44.4% of Peruvian Quechua speakers live in cities and towns, as do 43.6% of their Aymara peers. The Mapuches in Chile and Argentina are predominantly urban (75% of the total) (see Sichra, 2009). However, living in an urban area does not necessarily imply that Indigenous peoples enjoy the rights that national legislation prescribes for all citizens or receive education that respects their cultural and linguistic characteristics. In addition, exceptional situations are beginning to arise in the present context of Indigenous relocation in society and in national politics. Countries such as Uruguay, which until recently did not report any Indigenous population, registered in the 2004 National Census that 3.5% of the population redefined itself as of Indigenous origin or ancestry (López, 2009). It is highly probable that some of the people who acknowledged that they were Indigenous did so to signal to the hegemonic sectors of society that mainstream assimilation and uniformity efforts did not succeed. Indeed, identity politics is a new factor in contemporary politics that public education systems need to seriously consider. The general sociolinguistic configuration of Latin America and the linguistic structure and functioning of Indigenous societies also challenge common beliefs about linguistic diversity and monolingualism. Even after individuals acquire the hegemonic language, they may retain their Indigenous language for communication within the family and the local milieu. Most Indigenous communities are now bilingual, with Indigenous monolingualism being exceptional: only 9.8% in Mexico, 12.4% in Bolivia and 14.3% in Ecuador. The exception to this rule might be Guatemala where Indigenous monolingualism is much more prevalent; it characterizes 43.6% of the Maya population. In general, monolingualism persists among women and children under school age. Multilingualism within an extended and exogamous family structure can be the norm in certain Indigenous communities of Brazil and Colombia (Sorensen, 1967; Stenzel, 2005), although with sharp differences and more prevalence in the Vaupes River area of Colombia and Brazil (Stenzel, 2005). A school-age child might speak four or more different Indigenous languages, and, indeed, in many other parts of the Amerindian world, Indigenous individuals and families speak three or four languages. In Paraguay, for example, this is the case with many Indigenous individuals and communities who speak their own language, the neighboring community’s language, Paraguayan Guaraní (the lingua franca) and Spanish (the language favored by the elites) (Meliá, 2009).

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  23

Societal multilingualism was difficult for early missionaries and educators to understand. They found it easier and more convenient to transform this anomalous situation into normality, adopting a reductionist mono­lingual perspective. To this date, limited knowledge of societal multi­ lingualism and the sociolinguistic functioning of Indigenous communities, in general, hinder adequate and culturally sensitive language education programs. The effects of such ignorance and lack of cognitive flexibility are simply devastating and in many ways also ethnocidal. The fact is that nation–state building ideologies had an early impact on all Latin American countries. Hence, monolingualism–monoculturalism was adopted as the normal and desirable state. From very early on, language-­ planning policies were informed by the belief that diversity was an obstacle. Schooling and education were thus seen, in general, as the means to achieve the desired political goal of the elites in government and, thus, to continue and even strengthen a colonial perspective over language and communication in a multiethnic society. Although legislation prescribed equality for all, educational systems were constructed initially to exclude Indigenous children and adolescents, generally under pressure from landowners. Later, mainstream assimilatory strategies were adopted and education was provided in only the European language of power; thus, many Indigenous children reiteratively repeated or failed in schools and were early expelled from the system (Hamel, 2008; López & Sichra, 2008). Those who succeeded generally fled into the cities. Numerous and diverse strategies were implemented in order to keep Indigenous children in school and to secure more effective assimilation. The rural school’s higher order mission was that of incorporating Indigenous students and communities to a new way of life: civilized, Christian, industrious, in urbanlike lodging patterns and, in general, integrated into the modern social and economic world. Nonetheless, after almost 200 years of public education in Indigenous territories, hundreds of Indigenous cultures and languages survive, although severely weakened and under threat. The denial of the right to their native language and culture in schools has certainly had a negative impact on the educational achievement of Indigenous students. Depending on the specific country, Indigenous educational deficits range from generalized exclusion to limited access to the upper levels of primary and secondary education, with admittance to higher education being still exceptional. In this context, Indigenous adult illiteracy most generally remains high, particularly amongst Indigenous women. In the same vein, a study by the United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean identifies a divide in terms of Indigenous access to health and educational services, as a result of prevailing

24  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

discriminatory structures (Del Popolo & Oyarce, 2005). In 3 of 10 countries studied, infant mortality in Indigenous homes was two or three times higher than among the non-Indigenous. In education, inequalities were also systematic: over 20% of children ages 6–11 did not enjoy their rights to education. Paraguay was the most severe case of exclusion, with 38% of Indigenous children out of school and only 21% completing primary schooling. ‘Beyond the heterogeneities observed in the region…in most countries, the scope for achieving the proposed goals established in international agreements is significantly lower in the case of Indigenous pupils’ (Del Popolo & Oyarce, 2005: 14). This introductory discussion has presented a general description of Indigenous peoples in Latin America. It provides a context for the remainder of the chapter, which focuses on the extent and quality of intercultural bilingual education in Latin America. The next section presents the history of bilingual education, tracing its evolution from a limited and often disparaged teaching strategy to a cornerstone of the effort to effectively educate Indigenous students and a central issue in the struggle for autonomy of Indigenous peoples. The following section discusses the two processes, neither particularly effective nor widespread currently, by which intercultural bilingual education can be implemented. It uses the experience of three countries as examples: top-down, initiated by the government or international donors (Mexico and Guatemala), and bottom-up, initiated by Indigenous grassroots and ethno-political organizations (Bolivia). These case studies are followed by sections that, first, provide evidence of a widening gap between policies that ostensibly respect the incorporation of Indigenous culture and language into education but in practice do not and, second, provide some signs of hope for the expansion of bilingual education in Latin America. The concluding section presents recommendations for improving and increasing intercultural bilingual education across Latin America, focusing on the need to involve Indigenous people in its development and implementation.

Overview of Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education Indigenous bilingual education dates back to the first half of the 20th century, when rural teachers and Indigenous leaders took it upon themselves to introduce local Indigenous languages in youth and adult literacy programs. That was the case in Mexico, Peru and Ecuador, specifically. In Yucatán, an area where Maya is the major language, teachers spontaneously used the Indigenous language in schools and classrooms to make learning

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  25

easier for Indigenous students (Heath, 1972). In the Andes, two outstanding women taught Indigenous children, adolescents and adults to read and write bilingually, unlike what Spanish-only national policies prescribed. In the mid-1930s, in Puno, María Asunción Galindo, a mestizo speaker of Aymara and Quechua, became the pioneer of bilingual education in Peru (López, 1988) and in the mid-1940s, Dolores Cacuango, a communist Indigenous leader in Ecuador, played a comparable role (Rodas, 1989). From different social strata but with a common objective in mind – making the written word in Spanish available to Indigenous populations so they could defend their civil and political rights – they used Indigenous languages in their literacy activities. In so doing, these two women transformed the educational and linguistic premises of their times regarding the education of Indigenous populations and the use of Aymara and Quechua as languages that could be written. In Guatemala, the history was somewhat different since a United States protestant missionary taught Kaqchikel adults to read and write in their native language in the 1920s and 1930s while translating the New Testament. In Mexico, in the early 1940s, the option to learn in the students’ native language was institutional; bilingual education emerged as the State decided to overcome the problems encountered with Spanish-only instruction by implementing literacy in Maya, Otomí, Nahuatl and Purepecha (Schmelkes et al., 2009). The history of bilingual education in Latin America is heavily marked by the application of linguistics to education, and particularly of phonetics and phonology to the design of alphabets and to second-language teaching. Mexico and Peru were certainly fertile grounds for these processes since at the time there was a common growing concern regarding the Indigenous issue vis-à-vis the nation-making process. Academics and educational authorities were then in search of linguistic and cultural assimilation strategies, and hence, the use of modern linguistics in the implementation of bilingual education programs was seen as an adequate scientific solution. Due to disagreements with the Catholic Church after the Mexican Revolution, in 1936 the postrevolutionary government and the protestant Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) became allies in the development of Indigenous education. SIL helped implement educational programs in the most heavily populated Indigenous regions (Schmelkes et al., 2009). Alphabets were designed, teachers were trained and educational materials were prepared on the basis of a common grid in Spanish or in an Indigenous language from which translations to different languages were then made. These approaches were next transferred to other countries using the international platform of the congresses of Indigenism.

26  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

The first Pan American Seminal Congress took place in Pátzcuaro, Mexico, in 1940 (Marzal, 1993). Its aim was to introduce transitional bilingual education to contribute to the nation-making process through the generalization of the Spanish language and the written word. SIL provided technical support to a number of countries and took advantage of the strategic role of bilingual education in order to fulfill its ultimate objective: Bible translation and dissemination. Emphasis was placed on the native language but not on the Indigenous culture, as it was clear that education had to trigger a profound cultural change among the Indigenous population (Townsend, 1949): Once he can read, even if he initially does it only in his own language, he loses his inferiority complex. New things attract his interest. He becomes interested in buying manufactured goods – tools, mills or grinders, clothes, etc. To buy such things he needs to work more. Production increases and so does consumption. The entire society profits from it, except for the canteen-tender and the witchcraft doctor. Everyone discovers that an Indian is worth more as a cultivated person than as brutal force submersed in ignorance. (1949: 43, author’s translation from Spanish) These objectives were shared by the elites in government and SIL, perhaps with the only exception of the emphasis SIL placed on the evangelization of the Indigenous populations they worked with. Anthropologists and linguists generally agreed on the transitional orientation since Indigenism had cultural assimilation as a goal (Marzal, 1993). One of the areas where SIL missionaries worked the most was the Amazonian basin where they still operate in countries like Brazil and Peru.

The Shift toward Respect for Indigenous Languages and Cultures In general, submersion in the hegemonic language has been the most generally used education strategy, including an explicit prohibition against speaking the Indigenous language in school. When submersion makes room for the implementation of bilingual education, three basic theoretical models or orientations are implemented in Latin American schools: transitional bilingual education, maintenance and development bilingual education and enrichment bilingual education, with major emphasis on the first two.

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  27

The boundaries between theoretical models in intercultural bilingual education (known as EIB, using the acronym in Spanish for Educación Inter­ cultural Bilingüe) are not always clear-cut. A given program could strategically begin under a transitional orientation, but once the confidence of teachers and parents regarding Indigenous language use in schools and classrooms is gained, it could embrace the maintenance and development paradigm. Then, in times of increased Indigenous commitment and engagement, an enrichment orientation could come into play. The opposite can also be true. Maintenance and development bilingual education programs can end up as transitional and even early exit, when due to technical and political implementation problems they are only offered in early primary education. Nonetheless, this three-tier taxonomy helps explain policies with reference to the political aims underlying a specific educational proposal and allows us to break away from the supposed neutrality of education. Strictly speaking, submersion strategies share objectives with transitional bilingual education. They have a common higher order mission: cultural and socioeconomic change of populations seen as backward or even primitive and believed to threaten the nation’s capitalist economic development. Therefore, the strategies aim at a gradual substitution of the ancestral languages and cultures. Transitional bilingual education is still being implemented in most countries since the mainstream assimilationist political paradigm has not yet been abandoned, despite the undeniable political recognition – national and international – that Indigenous peoples now enjoy. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a change in aims and objectives took place as a result of the increasing demands and active participation of Indigenous leaders, intellectuals and teachers, particularly in South America (López & Sichra, 2008). State Indigenism as a national public policy – thought of by mestizo intellectuals and politicians to solve the ‘Indian problem’ – was partially abandoned and replaced by a critical version of it, with the adoption of cultural pluralism theory and practice. Indigenous leaders, some of them former transitional bilingual education students, demanded improved attention to their cultures and languages, and strategically regarded their culture as a political resource in order to gain visibility and participation. The assumption of Indigenous culture as a resource challenged the classical unitary and homogeneous conception of the nation–state (Amadio, 1989; Varese, 1987). The arrival and incursion of Indigenous voice and agency in Indigenist debates practically saved Indigenism from collapse. The adoption of the maintenance and development orientation toward Indigenous languages and of the intercultural desideratum resulted from this

28  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

ideological shift. Thus, the acronym IBE – or EIB in Spanish and Portuguese, and used here – became common grounds for collaborations in Indigenous areas. Governments, NGOs and Indigenous organizations committed themselves to educational programs and projects in Indigenous areas under this revitalized orientation. In so doing, people began to modify their views on Indigenous languages and cultures. Laws and regulations were passed recognizing the right of Indigenous peoples to education in their native language. By the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s, most national political constitutions had been reformed specifically to take account of Indigenous issues and rights. For example, the reformed or new constitutions of Mexico (1992), Peru (1993), Bolivia (1994) and Ecuador (1998) recognized their multicultural makeup and granted Indigenous populations certain cultural and linguistic rights. In Guatemala, the constitution of 1985 also recognized the multiethnic composition of the country. More recently, as of the mid 1990s, embracing interculturalism for all has led to a further change of emphasis – from a problem orientation to a rights focus – and from then on to consider Indigenous languages and cultures as a resource (see Ruiz, 1984). In Latin American political, cultural and educational debate, interculturalidad, or interculturalism, implies heightened communication, exchange of knowledge, values, practices and worldviews among cultures and members of a complex and multiethnic society, a radical reconfiguration of the nation–state model that values monoculturalism and monolingualism. Therefore, interculturalism is not the mere acknowledgment of diversity or pluralism and it is not to be confused with multiculturalism (UNESCO, 2006). Interculturalism in education refers to learning that is rooted in an individual’s own culture, language, values, world view and system of knowledge and, at the same time, is open to and appreciative of other knowledges, values, cultures and languages. In other words, interculturalism implies conceiving diversity as an educational resource and relating to the subaltern Indigenous cultures and the hegemonic Western culture equally through the schooling process. Within this general context, in some countries EIB is implemented as a national policy, while in others it is still the object of focalized compensatory projects. In this way, the region is slowly moving from Indigenous intercultural bilingual education to intercultural education for all. The final aim of intercultural education is learning to live together, since systems of knowledge, civilizatory patterns, cultures and languages are seen as complementary rather than through a lens of segregation or opposition. Although enrichment bilingual education is gaining momentum and moving forward, it is still the main characteristic of elite-bilingualism

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  29

associated with languages of international communication. Nonetheless, recent bilingual education innovations such as those implemented in the city of Cuzco, Peru, by Pukllasunchis, a private school where Quechua is taught as a second language alongside Spanish and English, from preschool through the secondary level,1 the Purepecha primary school project in two rural communities in Mexico under a participatory EIB scheme (Hamel, 2008), and the introduction of Maya as a second language in public Mexican schools (Lizama, 2008), constitute vivid evidence of the positive impact the notion that interculturalism can have on education. Indeed, interculturalism has helped move from transition to maintenance and from maintenance into enrichment. Enrichment bilingual education also promotes the transformation of non-Indigenous students: they become receptive to, and respectful and appreciative of, linguistic and cultural diversity. Hence, teaching an Indigenous language as a second language is embedded in an intercultural and decolonizing perspective of language teaching (Lin & Martin, 2005; Luke, 2005). With this type of orientation, the school situates itself in the context of multiethnicity, multiculturalism and multilingualism; it considers diversity as a value in itself, having the Indigenous languages as viable and valid resources for developing individual and collective capacities of semantic discovery and of improved mind openness toward different worldviews, systems of knowledge and languages. The curriculum has become a prolific place for interethnic and intercultural negotiation (López, 2005; Trapnell, 2008). Nonetheless, legal and educational rhetoric does not necessarily match what ministries design and implement. Although most often sound and appropriate, rhetoric most generally stands alone, while practice and implementation follow different and sometimes unexpected paths. Over a dozen governments have endorsed interculturalism for all (Moya, 1998). Peru did it back in 1989, Ecuador in 1992, Bolivia in 1994, Guatemala in 1996 and Mexico in 1997 and 2001. Nonetheless, little has been done in terms of application and the notion forms part of the extensive repertoire of political rhetoric. Unfortunately, the national adoption of interculturalism can often be considered an excuse for the lesser attention now paid to the Indigenous languages and to bilingual education in general (Hamel, 2008; López & Sichra, 2008). In Latin America, the boundaries between EIB theoretical models are not always clear-cut. A given program could strategically begin under a transitional orientation and once the confidence of teachers and parents is gained regarding Indigenous language use in schools and classrooms, it could embrace the maintenance and development paradigm. Then, in

30  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

times of increased Indigenous commitment and engagement, an enrichment orientation could come into play. As in other parts of the world, the politics of identity and ethnicity have gradually led to the application of postcolonial theory to Indigenous educational critique and intervention. The region has certainly benefited from the fact that popular education and EIB developed almost simultaneously (1960–1990) and that Indigenous youth and adult education became a place of common concern. Many EIB initiatives were either preceded by adult literacy campaigns or the campaigns were a byproduct of the implementation of EIB at primary school level. ‘Paulo Freire’s model of critical pedagogy [… applied to popular education initiatives] stands as a remarkable “point of decolonization” theorizing’ (Luke, 2005: xvi), and for the adoption of an intercultural perspective based on the interests of the oppressed. Indigenous intellectuals and leaders generally approach decolonization through a process of historical reconstruction: conscious recuperation of their historic memory in the context of Indigenous language and cultural rediscovery and revival. EIB is slowly returning to the political direction it began to follow at the end of the 1970s when Indigenous organizations repositioned or relocated Indigenous languages and cultures in national political debates in their struggle for social emancipation. In some countries, EIB has moved into the political arena. In so doing, the orientation and structure of the national curriculum are being questioned and new Indigenous curricular demands and educational proposals are put forward, even demanding government financing (Bolaños et al., 2004; López, 2008). Indigenous involvement in educational programs has also led to a change of orientation in educational and language decision making: from the usual top-down direction to a bottom-up one. In that process EIB is not the same when it is interpreted and implemented directly by the Indigenous organizations than when it is under the sole responsibility of a government directorate, whether national, regional or local. As would be expected, autonomous EIB models regard education mainly as political, while ministries of education consider them mostly as technical and as a compensatory practice (López & Sichra, 2008). This discrepancy has led Indigenous organizations to propose their own endogenous models, which, while intercultural and bilingual, use a different denomination precisely to mark the difference in approach. Such is the case of the Guatemalan Mayan schools, the Mexican Chiapas autonomous municipal schools or of what in Colombia is known as educación propia (their own education). EIB’s focus is not only on primary and basic education. Indigenous demands have taken it into the higher education domain, first incorporating

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  31

it into teacher-training colleges and later into universities. New intercultural universities have been opened in Mexico and Peru; and in Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, Ecuador and Guatemala Indigenous universities or units have been created (López et al., 2007; Mato, 2008). Similarly, innovative university programs, both pregraduate and graduate, have been set up to prepare Indigenous professionals in various academic fields, with EIB at the forefront. At present, one of the most renowned regional academic centers in this field is PROEIB Andes (Programa de Formación en Educación Inter­ cultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos), based at San Simón University in Cochabamba, Bolivia, where Indigenous professionals from eight different Latin American countries have been trained since 1996.2 Higher education, whether Indigenous or intercultural, provides an adequate setting for reinventing and redirecting EIB now that, nationally and internationally, Indigenous issues enjoy greater attention and concern than ever, and when in 2007 the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Declaration on Indigenous Peoples Rights. Indigenous students and graduates can formulate theories, objectives and strategies, leading to a reinvention of EIB, grounded in a politics of identity, ethnicity and power, after decades of almost only outside intervention. Freirian radical pedagogy might indeed be a strategy […] of choice in political economies that are characterized by point-of-decolonization binary political, racial/ethnic or ideological division [as is the case in most Latin American countries and even more so in Bolivia and Guatemala]. The deconstruction of master narratives and their hybrid theoretical reconstruction might be particularly significant in those national and regional contexts building Indigenous intelligentsia and reconnoitering the division and hierarchy of academic, scientific and theoretical knowledge. A focus on identity politics and ‘strategic essentialism’ could be the powerful educational move in a system where the historical silencing and suppression of difference has been enforced. (Luke, 2005: xvi–xvii)

Intercultural Bilingual Education Policy and Implementation Since the underlying motivation for EIB has always been political, governments in most of the countries have had a leading role in policy and curriculum design and implementation. Hence, EIB had first been approached from the top-down based on both political and academic criteria.

32  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Nonetheless, for the past three decades Indigenous agency has played a significant role in EIB redefinition, in order to gradually find more room in the curriculum for their worldviews, knowledges and values. In most of these cases, EIB has followed a different path and grew from the bottom-up. In order to determine EIB social and political impact, it is useful to compare both strategies. This section therefore considers the case of three countries. Two examples demonstrate a top-down approach, Mexico and Guatemala, while the third case, Bolivia, demonstrates the bottom-up strategy.

Top-down EIB: Initiated by the government or private entities Most generally, top-down approaches are typical of countries where EIB policies are formulated after the implementation of specific projects, mostly of an experimental nature. In such cases government and research centers, religious organizations or, in some cases, international donors and NGOs, engage in policy formulation which ministries of education gradually implement. In the course of implementation, reactions from some Indigenous stakeholders may arise and alternative strategies proposed. Nonetheless, the motivation and directionality of the effort do not change nor do ministries of education modify their action plans, in favor of a more consultative and participatory approach going beyond mere school-management issues and allowing for curriculum redefinition. Although with important differences between them, Mexico and Guatemala are two such countries.

State-driven EIB: The case of Mexico Government experiments in Mexico started in the late 1930s. They were meant to provide evidence that alternatives to Spanish-only strategies were possible and that using Indigenous languages in education was effective for achieving the goal of castellanización or the imposition of Spanish as the only national language. Academicians from Mexico and the United States, as well as the SIL missionaries, were involved in this process from early on (Hamel, 2008). Different alternatives were tried out to castellanizar and assimilate the Indigenous population: ‘cultural missions’, castellanización campaigns, boarding schools, community radios, cultural and linguistic brokers, native language literacy, appointing Indigenous-language-speaking youth and adults as rural teachers, and also bilingual education (see Lizama, 2008). In the 1970s, official transitional bilingual education adopted a bicultural bilingual approach (Schmelkes, 2006a) when a national association of Indigenous teachers became active and demanded to go beyond language

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  33

education in order to introduce Indigenous cultural content in the official school curriculum (Hernández, 2003). Through their advocacy, in 1978– 1979 the General Directorate of Indigenous Education (DGEI) was created as a subsystem of Mexican education (Schmelkes, 2006a). Although anthropologists working in Mexico took an active part in the South American debate on Indigenous interculturalism and intercultural education through the 1970s and 1980s (see Gigante et al., 1986; Varese, 1987), it was only at the turn of the century that Mexican national educational policy adopted the notions of interculturalism and EIB: first through regulations in 1997 (Schmelkes, 2006b) and then in 2001 through the creation of a specific national EIB coordination unit (Coordinación General de Educación Intercultural Bilingüe (CGEIB)). CGEIB’s mission was to formulate national strategies on interculturalism for all, to promote research, to design educational materials and methodologies and to make interculturalism a cross-cutting issue for the entire educational system (Schmelkes, 2006b). Through CGEIB the government planned to overcome the generally assumed notion that only Indigenous students needed to become inter­cultural. Four national units are currently responsible for bilingual education in Mexico: DGEI, CGEIB, INEA (Instituto Nacional de Educación de Adultos) and CONAFE, a special unit working with the poorest and smallest Indigenous communities where the number of school-age children lies under the nationally prescribed norm (100 for primary school and 500 for preschool). The Mexican Constitution, reformed in 1992, defines the country as multicultural; and the San Andrés accords of 1996, between government representatives and Zapatista insurgent leaders, set a new and challenging scenario for the development of EIB in conjunction with the official recognition of other Indigenous rights. In 2003, a new law on Indigenous language rights was passed and that same year the National Institute of Indigenous Languages was created. As in other Latin American countries, Indigenous political determination seemed to be pushing EIB from a transitional approach to an enrichment strategy. In general, in different parts of the country new action-research projects, sponsored by universities, NGOs and grassroots organizations, got underway. These innovations aimed at improved educational quality both in rural and urban areas (Hamel, 2008; Lizama, 2008; Rebolledo, 2008). An Indigenous language secondary school curriculum also got underway, teacher-­training colleges underwent EIB curriculum reform, ten new intercultural universities opened in places closer to Indigenous communities and educational material including video was prepared to promote inter­cultural education for all (Schmelkes, 2006b). Moreover, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México created a specialized academic unit to promote research

34  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

and lecturing to raise political awareness in the university community and in the country as a whole concerning Mexico’s multicultural and multilingual nature.3 Nonetheless, the notions of interculturalism and also EIB are observed with caution by researchers and grassroots leaders because of its top-down origin. In Chiapas members of the influential but unofficial Teachers’ Union for a New Mexican Education stated that the system imposed a centrally designed model of EIB and rejected communally inspired intercultural education alternatives (Cárdenas, personal communication, May 2012). In the Zapatista autonomous municipalities of Chiapas, community educators were in search of a new paradigm for EIB. These grassroots initiatives tried to move away from federal top-down policies. Their innovations could indeed contribute to the configuration of an autonomous Indigenous educational model. More than often, innovations such as these received academic backing. In a qualitative appraisal of the last decade, Schmelkes states that: ‘… achieving more equity in education necessarily entails improving the quality of the education offered to the Indigenous population and the great challenge still lies in preschool and primary education. But it is [also] essential to offer an intercultural education to all of the population’ in order to achieve the expected outcome of interculturalism for all (2006a: 4, author ’s translation). As she emphasizes elsewhere: ‘Our educational system has not led to knowledge of the cultural diversity of our pluricultural country. Students leaving their first level of education do not know how many Indigenous groups there are or where they are’ (Schmelkes, 2006b: 125). This acknowledgment and self-criticism applies to most Latin American countries. In Peru, the 2004 national standardized tests on citizenship education revealed that 64% of all students could not name a minimum of three Indigenous cultures (Zúñiga, 2008). Latin American university students are most generally not aware of the intricacies of their country’s multiethnicity and do not generally know how many languages are spoken in their country.

International donor-driven EIB: The case of Guatemala In Guatemala, EIB initiatives did not come from the government or the academic community. Rather, as stated above, United States missionaries conducted bilingual literacy experiments with adults who spoke Kaqchikel early in the 20th century. Cameron Townsend, founder of SIL in 1934, developed primers or other initial reading materials in this language. In fact it was Townsend’s work that inspired the Mexican under Secretary

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  35

of Education, Moisés Sáenz, to adopt Indigenous native language literacy (Schmelkes et al., 2009). Bilingual education did not develop earlier in Guatemala for several reasons: the 1944 national revolution’s mestizo ideology and its associated efforts placed on forced castellanización of the Indigenous population during the following decade; and the civil war between leftist and Indigenous guerrillas and the Guatemalan army that lasted 30 years (1966–1996). SIL, however, formally arrived in 1952 and stayed practically until the early 1980s, bringing with it its religious, linguistic and educational activities. During the civil war the simple mention or use of Indigenous languages was subversive and attracted military repression (Richards, 2008). Nonetheless, in 1980, before the Peace Accords of 1995–1996 that were signed by the government and the guerrilla groups, a pilot bilingual education project started with technical and financial support from USAID. It began with 40 schools, and four years later it was institutionalized as a national program (1984–1996), first reaching 400 schools, then 800 and finally 1200 (Dutcher, 2004). Illiteracy was then very high among Indigenous youth and adults (70%– 100%) and educational services in rural communities were scarce and inadequate (Richards, 2008). This first USAID project was influenced by the preceding Indigenous kindergarten castellanización initiative implemented in the 1960s and 1970s (Dutcher, 2004). It was focused on preschool and the first two grades under the early exit transitional strategy, designed to teach Indigenous students to speak only Spanish ultimately. Still, bilingual education reached children who spoke the four major Indigenous languages – Kaqchikel, K’ich’e, Q’eqchi’ and Mam – spoken by approximately 80% of the total Indigenous population in the country. Bilingual education also contributed to the preparation of a Mayan professional task force, active in the advocacy of Indigenous cultural and linguistic rights (Dutcher, 2004: 7). Other projects sponsored by the international community contributed to the significant increase of Indigenous visibility and participation. Increased Indigenous access to pregraduate and graduate university programs, in-service teacher-training programs, literacy campaigns in the Indigenous languages and production of academic literature on Indigenous issues, primers and educational materials are all initiatives that have played an important role in moving the Indigenous political agenda forward. The long period of Guatemalan military dictatorships ended in 1986 and soon after education reform incorporated instructional use of Indigenous native languages as one of its key issues. In 1996, PRONEBI (Programa Nacional de Educación Bilingüe Bicultural) became a Ministry directorate and

36  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

adopted a bicultural orientation. In 2003, a Vice Ministry of Bilingual Intercultural Education was created, and the government passed a national language law and decreed the generalization of EIB, although these last two measures have not yet been put into effect. For the past two decades, but more strongly since the 1995–1996 Peace Accords, the country has had neoliberal multiculturalism as government policy (Hale, 2004) in response to international pressure. New institutions have been created: the National Academy for Mayan Languages (1990), the Guatemalan Indigenous Development Fund (1994), a Vice Ministry for Bilingual Intercultural Education (2003) and the Presidential Commission on Racism and Discrimination (2003), among others. The national constitution of 1985 recognizes the right of Indigenous learners to education in their native language and although the legal and official rhetoric is sound and politically correct, vast gaps exist between policy and implementation (United Nations, 2008). Consequently, most of EIB implementation depends on international loans and grants, and on technical assistance from other donors (GIZ, OEI, UNICEF and USAID, among others). To date, official bilingual education is offered at most from preschool to the first three grades of primary education. There are 21 bilingual teacher-­ training normal schools.4 Four universities offer training in bilingual education, often with the support of international donors or in conjunction with Mayan NGOs. Many of these NGOs also support the implementation of different types of EIB at grassroots level. A Mayan education movement started in the early 1990s and has continued to expand. Mayan schools are the result of ‘generalized disaffection with the official bilingual education program to a growing language revitalization and ethnic affirmation sentiment’ (Richards & Richards, 1996: 217). In many respects, this is also a top-down effort since Maya education proposals have been formulated by Indigenous intellectuals and political leaders, but with little or no consultation with the grassroots. In other words, a nonparticipatory approach prevails and neither local traditional Indigenous authorities nor the children’s parents are ever consulted on their expectations and desires of the aims and goals of education. Dissatisfied with governmental efforts in this field, Mayan politicians and intellectuals set up their own version of EIB, but in the absence of a social movement to support it. Although EIB forms part of the political and pedagogical agenda of Mayan schools, the schools intentionally avoid using the official acronym to identify their specific contributions: (1) increased attention to Indigenous worldviews, culture, spirituality and knowledge; (2) concern for the different educational levels from primary to secondary education; (3) proposals for a Mayan university and (4) the development of secondary/school

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  37

students’ self-esteem and leadership capacities deep rooted in identity and ethnic politics. There is practically no coordination between these Mayan proposals and official EIB. It is also interesting to note that the Ministry of Education regards these initiatives as private and does not make any difference between Mayan initiatives and those of the private sector (religious institutions, private high school owners, amongst others). Nonetheless, as it occurs with other private education initiatives in Guatemala, some of these Mayan projects receive financial support from the Ministry of Education, and therefore, have to abide by official prescriptions regarding school content, which provides another example of how Guatemala has had a topdown EIB approach. Very little room is left for effective inclusion of Mayan worldviews in the curriculum. EIB has two new important allies in Guatemala: the National Teachers’ Assembly and San Carlos University, the only public university (see Chapter 6 in this volume). For the past five years, these two organizations have politically supported EIB and have jointly engaged in educational proposals and activities that strengthen the role of EIB nationwide. This new impetus has attracted attention from local and national Indigenous organizations at times when the recently established government administration’s (2012– 2016) attention and support to EIB seem to be diminishing.

Bottom-up EIB: Indigenous-initiated approaches As opposed to the top-down histories recounted above, Bolivia is a country where EIB has moved in the opposite direction. Bolivian EIB started as a social movement closely linked to the Indigenous struggle for civil and political rights. Indeed, the contemporary history of EIB in Bolivia illustrates the political impact the use of Indigenous languages and cultures can have, though initially Bolivian bilingual education followed similar top-down paths. In the 1980s and 1990s, the top-down orientation was reversed with the implementation of educational projects and of a nationwide literacy campaign inspired by Paulo Freire’s work and the notion of interculturalism. Two direct results of these initiatives radically changed the social history of Bolivia: Indigenous ethno-political organization and the introduction of EIB in schools. Indigenous and grassroots organizations and unions formulated EIB proposals, and in 1989 and 1990 two EIB projects marked the starting point of further popular claims and proposals, leading to comprehensive educational reform in 1994 (Albó & Anaya, 2003; López, 2005). In many ways the 1994–2002 Bolivian educational reform was an audacious endeavor (Albó & Anaya, 2003), aimed at a profound transformation

38  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

of society and the result of an accumulation of EIB projects, most of which followed bottom-up strategies. Through participating in project implementation and evaluation, Indigenous parents and leaders learned to share power cooperatively, particularly when they exercised control over schools and teachers (López, 2005; Noel, 2006). Parallel to the implementation of this reform, the government (1993–1997) launched a nationwide policy of popular participation strengthening collective decision making at the municipal level, vis-à-vis the administration and social auditing of public funds. EIB boomed in Bolivia in the late 1980s and through the 1990s, enjoying Indigenous acceptance and the political will of the Bolivian government over three different administrations (1989–1993, 1993–1997 and 1997–2001). A few years earlier (1985–1989) drastic structural adjustment measures had saved the country from economic collapse, but left a large social debt that mostly affected the poor and Indigenous homes and communities. In the late 1980s, Bolivian economic neoliberalism emerged and grew hand-in-hand with Indigenous political emergence and participation. These two processes formed part of the country’s renewed democracy. But, when this system collapsed in the early 2000s, and after the arrival of the Evo Morales regime in 2006, EIB was derailed from its trajectory of expansion. Bolivia officially adopted interculturalism for all and prioritized the education of the most underprivileged: rural Indigenous children and youth. Millions of pedagogically innovative and richly illustrated educational materials depicting the Indigenous way of life reached public school classrooms, both in Indigenous and mainstream communities and neighborhoods. Half of all Bolivian teacher-training colleges adopted an EIB curriculum with the participation of Indigenous leaders and after their staffs went through specialized seminars on language, culture and active pedagogy (Delany, 2009; Noel, 2006). Several cohorts of professional EIB teachers were trained. Renewed Indigenous self-esteem and initial nationwide positioning of Indigenous knowledge, culture and languages practically invaded the educational and social scenario of the country (Albó & Anaya, 2003; Noel, 2009), promoting a form of local Indigenous activism, which indeed paved the way for the Indigenous political impetus Bolivia is now undergoing. In Bolivia, Indigenous leaders negotiated with government authorities and, unlike other bottom-up experiences that remained as microlevel initiatives, they managed to have some bearing on educational policies and on national politics in general. Indigenous proposals became national policies, obtained official funding and enjoyed significant expansion. Indigenous leaders took advantage of these facts to push their political agenda even further. Indeed, Bolivian EIB cannot be seen as an isolated endeavor, since it is part of a more comprehensive agenda that includes other civil and political rights.

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  39

When Indigenous leaders demand EIB, they simultaneously claim territorial rights: the right over the free use of water provided by Mother Nature, the right to autonomy and self-rule according to their own social organization and institutions and the right to their own ways of living and of knowing and worldviews. As I stated elsewhere, the Indigenous strategy to make the State assume its responsibility over EIB has been one of gradual approximation, taking advantage of each and every fissure in State structure and operations (López, 2005). In so doing, Indigenous leaders have managed to convince or force the nation-state to honor their status as citizens and apply relevant existing laws governments previously ignored. There is no doubt that Bolivian Indigenous leaders made it clear that their demands for educational transformation were only the first threads of a more elaborate and complex political fabric. As in other countries, in Bolivia Indigenous educational demands go beyond basic education to place emphasis on the relevance and pertinence of higher education (López et al., 2007), which is considered a privileged space for negotiating knowledge and constructing a new type of citizenship. Moreover, Indigenous leaders expect universities to become intercultural, since many of the EIB graduates and more Indigenous students in general are now entering higher education. The students aim to overcome Indigenous identity fragility, since university students of rural and/or Indigenous origin are most generally subject to strong institutional and social pressure to give up their Indigenous identity and language affiliation. But still, by graduation many Indigenous students end up identifying with the hegemonic sector and consider being Indigenous not worthwhile, even when social rejection might well continue nevertheless. As some Indigenous leaders have asserted, universities do not only consolidate castellanización but also political and cultural assimilation (Alarcón, personal communication, 2005). Indigenous students who opt for a career in the armed forces face similar exclusion (Gill, 2000). Indeed, the negotiation of knowledge and citizenship has moved upwards in the system, from primary school and basic education in the 1970s and 1980s to higher education three decades later. Most Indigenous leaders view interculturalism and intercultural relationships within a framework of constant negotiation of power. Hence, the new notion of intra­culturalism – or Indigenous cultural self-reaffirmation – has been postulated in order to transform education and the social and political image and construct of the multination State. Since 2009 Bolivia has a new constitution that incorporates Indigenous principles and values claiming the validity of their civilizatory models and ways of living under the decolonial notion of Suma Qamaña (Aymara) or

40  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Sumaq Kawsay (Quechua): Living Well in Harmony and Equilibrium. This notion redefines the role of the individual as part of a community and also relocates consumption, wealth, happiness and the relationship between human beings and nature. In this context, a new educational law was passed that assumes the principles of decolonization, intraculturalism, interculturalism and multilingualism. In addition, the Indigenous peoples’ education councils develop new curriculum proposals which they negotiate with the government (see Chapter 7 of this volume). While this is now happening at the national level, at the local level EIB has stagnated and lost the impetus it gained when it began to enjoy nationwide expansion after 1994. Curricula, educational materials and methodologies are under general revision and no precise guidelines are yet available to schools, whether rural or urban. After the outburst of the antineoliberal popular struggle, resulting from the regrettable correlation that Bolivian politicians established between neoliberalism and EIB (López, 2005) and the fact that EIB reached only the rural areas but not the cities or the Spanish-speaking population (Patzi, 1999), the 1994 EIB approach was questioned and countermanded before a new proposal was designed. Most local educational authorities and teachers are now at a standstill (Juárez et al., personal communications, 2011), although some local projects and initiatives continue working independently (Jiménez, personal communication, 2009; Zavala et al., 2007). Having been part of a severely questioned economic neoliberal government scheme and having received international funding for its design and implementation, mainly from international development banks, the reform’s ill-fated association with neoliberalism first brought EIB developments to a standstill and later determined its derailment. Bolivia’s teachers’ unions were a large part of this process since they opposed reform measures and EIB from the beginning and particularly disliked that parents and local communities exercised social control over school functioning, particularly in relation to the number of days and hours worked. The government (1993–1997) failed badly by not having sufficiently negotiated reform strategies and implementation with teachers’ unions, NGOs and the Catholic Church, as it did with Indigenous organizations. Because of ideological reasons profoundly rooted in a highly politically minded society, Indigenous organizations also criticized and suspected the true will of governments concerning educational transformation. Nonetheless, from the beginning they openly and wholeheartedly supported the reform’s adoption of EIB as a key element of societal transformation. By incorporating Indigenous demands into the process, the reform proved to Indigenous leaders that their voice could be heard and taken seriously into account.

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  41

Now a very elaborate educational discourse rooted in postcolonial theory and decolonization ideology is being gradually constructed mostly by Indigenous intellectuals (Patzi, 1999; Saavedra, 2007), with a focus on higher education. The government has created three Indigenous universities as part of a strategy to force well-established autonomous public universities to adopt an intercultural perspective (Gutierrez, personal communication, 2009) and to respond to Indigenous knowledge and practices within the framework of decolonization (Mandepora, personal communication, 2012). The new decolonizing ideals radicalize the old principles of EIB, stressing the role of identity, ethnicity and politics in education. This new itinerary relies heavily on, and takes advantage of, the cumulative and historical process of national redefinition. The new proposals and strategies in-the-making evidence an epistemological shift and include intracultural and intercultural curricula and the teaching of three languages in all schools: the Indigenous language of the community or region, Spanish and English. Although it is not yet clear how these three languages will relate to each other in the classroom, Bolivian authorities would now speak of multilingual rather than of bilingual education. Interestingly enough, the Indigenous peoples’ educational councils – who were in the forefront of the construction and nationwide expansion of EIB – combine the use of these terms and dedicate time and effort to the two educational levels serving Indigenous students: basic and higher education. In so doing, they refer to lessons learned during the two decades of strong EIB activity (1983–2003) and explicitly refer to redesigning EIB within the current broader epistemological and political framework. While at the local level the process seems to be retaking momentum, at the national level all efforts seem to be placed on the transformation of the university system at the expense of basic education, the domain that is the focus of most Indigenous grassroots movements, communities and parents. It remains to be seen whether identity politics and Indigenous essentialism give way to a reevaluation of the strategic importance of basic education and of children and youth in primary and secondary schools. Once again, it is paradoxical that even in times of power shift and when government authorities are either Indigenous themselves or aligned with the current Indigenous power structure and political project, solutions in Bolivia seem to germinate and grow from the bottom-up. Though it might not be politically correct to explicitly state it, the seeds and roots of the ongoing political and educational processes of decolonization date back to the neoliberal era when the Indigenous movement flourished and EIB and the popular participation policies received governmental support. The fact

42  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

is that at the government level it is not yet clear whether EIB will flourish or perish in this era of decolonization and of strategic alliance of the present Bolivian government with the teachers’ unions that once rejected nationwide EIB.

Conflicting Visions of EIB The description of these three cases – two examples of a top-down approach (Mexico and Guatemala) and one example of a bottom-up strategy (Bolivia) – has made it clear that generally there are conflicting visions of EIB: ministries are most generally concerned with pedagogical issues, while grassroots organizations consider these issues as part of a larger political concern (López, 2005, 2008). When the political orientation of EIB is questioned, governments explicitly state the importance of national unity and identity, as in the Guatemalan case where educational authorities appeal to national Guatemalan pride (El orgullo de ser guatemalteco). From a counter-­hegemonic perspective, EIB and interculturalism are seen as a part of a more complex agenda that includes notions like territoriality, autonomy, self-rule, decolonization and even the proposal of multination States.

Evidence of the Widening Policy–Practice Gap The second Millennium Development Goal on universal access to primary education is about to be met in Latin America.5 Nonetheless, severe inequalities persist, particularly concerning the ethnic divide: over 20% of Indigenous boys and girls are out of school, Indigenous student completion of primary education will be almost impossible to reach by 2015 (Del Popolo & Oyarce, 2005), fewer Indigenous adolescents attend secondary education and a small minority graduates from high school. Further, Indigenous girls in particular face ethnic inequities; they are excluded from the levels of education above the first four or six grades of primary schooling. Whereas in Mexico most rural Indigenous students attend school at the preprimary and primary levels, in the other two countries discussed here, Guatemala and Bolivia, the availability of EIB is still insufficient to meet the educational needs of Indigenous students. In Guatemala (Rubio, 2006), only 42% at preprimary level (ages 5–6), and from 14% to 60% in primary education (ages 7–12), receive EIB. In his report on Guatemala released in May 2009, the UN Special Rapporteur for the Rights to Education states that 74% of children ages 7–12 receive classes only in Spanish, and 13% in

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  43

Spanish and in a Mayan language (United Nations, 2008). In Bolivia, even at the time of the EIB boom, bilingual schools represented only 22% of the total number of schools and 27% of all rural schools; these schools educated only 11% of all primary school children in a country where 66% of the population is Indigenous (Nucinkis, 2006). In Latin America, notable disparities exist. In some countries, EIB can be offered only in one grade or two, as in many Guatemalan schools (Rubio, 2006); in others, in three or four grades; and in some others, as in many of those in Yucatan, Mexico, EIB can cover all the six grades of primary schooling (Lizama, 2008). Indeed, another reason why EIB is not more widespread is that for some time Indigenous leaders and parents have questioned the quality of the education given to their children; hence, they have come to suspect EIB strategies and models. The emergence of autonomous, endogenous or simply Indigenous education or educación propia is a proof of it (López, 2008). It is therefore not surprising that the current Bolivian ongoing and determined claim for the decolonization of education has an appeal for many Indigenous organizations and leaders through the region. As drawn from the Bolivian experience, the truth is that: Partly due to the continuous experience of failure in the school system Indigenous, language minority status students still maintain high levels of grade repetition and early school dropout. By taking longer to move through grade levels and leaving school before acquiring higher levels of skills needed for higher paying jobs, language minority students have effectively been barred from moving on through the sequence of equal educational opportunity. Through the mechanisms described above, the social policies of monoculturalism and assimilation have translated into unequal schooling experiences that in turn have led to large socio-economic inequities in Bolivian society. This is the case throughout the Latin American region but more evident in countries like Bolivia [and Guatemala] where the percentage of the population is heavily Indigenous. (Noel, 2006: 232) To deal with community concerns, a better match between educational proposals and practices and the ethno-political expectations of Indigenous leaders and intellectuals is needed. Strategies are needed that are not only educationally meaningful but can also relate to collective sociopolitical practices, in which Indigenous children and adolescents are involved. Indeed, historically, Indigenous children and youth have always been included in community and organizational activities related to Indigenous collective

44  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

political struggle. Their participation, even only as observers, grants them access to varied dimensions of the Indigenous way of life and worldview and, above all, to the politics of identity and ethnicity. Moreover, when the events are intraethnic, children also learn how and when the Indigenous languages are used. And when they participate in interethnic demonstrations or assemblies, they have the opportunity to discover the social roles the language of power and the Indigenous languages play. Events such as these form part of a new extra-school dimension that generates intense and rich learning in everyday life situations, while subaltern societies struggle for increased social recognition and respect. Through these processes Indigenous students discover the meaning of full and active citizenship.

Some Signs of Hope As far as bilingual education models are concerned, most Latin American countries have adopted the maintenance and development discourse for EIB, though in Guatemala government efforts are still being placed in early-exit transitional model. Enrichment bilingual education is being implemented with the support of NGOs and politically committed linguists, anthropologists and educationalists in specific areas. In Chiapas, Mexico, a further shift is in place as a result of the increasing political participation of Indigenous leaders and intellectuals who question the political status quo and defy political exclusion, racism and discrimination. In this new setting, the concept of intraculturalism, as different from and complementary to interculturalism, has emerged within a wider framework of education for decolonization (Gustafson, 2009; López, 2005). Intraculturalism and decolonization go hand-in-hand and aim at restoring the Indigenous individual’s self-respect and ethnic pride, under strategic essentialism (López, 2008). Despite this promising development, there is still a need to bridge the gap between Indigenous educational ideology and rhetoric and effective bilingual or multilingual classroom practice. Indeed, EIB is neither a matter of simply adequate and culturally sensitive methodologies, nor of an active and more innovative pedagogy only; above all, it relates to Indigenous peoples’ rights to an alternative and ethnic view of citizenship. The use and development of Indigenous languages and of the cultivation and enjoyment of Indigenous cultures is a right in itself now internationally sanctioned. A rights approach to EIB includes effective, efficient, but also enjoyable, learning, and the development of Indigenous self-pride. A rights approach also implies taking EIB concerns beyond the

Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America  45

classroom and the school and into the domain of periodic political negotiation and permanent struggle.

Conclusions Regrettably, the findings presented in this chapter indicate that, despite the change in rhetoric, the turn of the century has brought back the Spanish-only national literacy campaigns and one-size-fits-all educational methods in some Indigenous communities and urban settings of Latin American countries. Policies of neglect of Indigenous peoples have inevitably had a negative impact on their self-esteem and have resulted in a negative image of Indigenous knowledge and ways. A regional Andean study concluded that in Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru, Spanish-only oppressive and discriminatory educational methods have contributed to a biased image of Indigenous pupils as shy, silent, introverted, apprehensive, fearful and marginalized (Howard, 2007). But, as we have seen through most EIB evaluation reports, these same children are described as active, participatory, outspoken, extroverted and friendly, since the use of Indigenous languages in schools seems to have a positive impact on children’s self-confidence and self-esteem (López, 1995). Nevertheless, differences of opinion exist between Indigenous leaders and politicians and grassroots community leaders and parents, since they have not had the chance to deconstruct a long history of induced social prejudice against their own culture, language and people, and to unlearn political, social and cultural knowledge and practice acquired through formal schooling. Resistance to EIB persists among groups of Indigenous parents and this resistance emphasizes the need to engage them in popular education processes through which they can raise critical political awareness regarding the place and role of multiethnicity, multiculturalism and multilingualism in contemporary society. Even more important, EIB must be central to the discussion of educational quality in Latin America, since it is not sufficient simply to ensure universal primary school access. The secondary school level needs urgent attention, since there is very little point in pushing the students through bilingual primary schooling if opportunities to go on to secondary education in their areas of residence are scarce. Further, the aim ought to be placed on the quality of the services rendered (Del Popolo & Oyarce, 2005). It is more essential than ever before to design and plan educational proposals and programs with the Indigenous leaders and representatives themselves, stemming from their own common understanding, expectations and life plans.

46  The Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America

Last but not least, action research also helps overcome the artificial separation between school and community that the imposition of ‘expert-knowledge’ helped shape. Research results stress the relevance of active social participation and engagement of local communities in school and education quality improvement (Jiménez, 2005; Zavala et al., 2007). As it was said elsewhere, community engagement is inseparable from improved quality EIB (López, 2005, 2008). The issue is no longer planning for the Indigenous populations, but rather planning with them and, moreover, creating proposals that stem from their own perspectives and viewpoints. By proceeding in this way, we will contribute to the full, active and intercultural understanding of citizenship that Indigenous individuals and collectivities are shaping through their struggle against racism and discrimination.

Notes (1) (2) (3) (4)

See www.pukllasunchis.org. See www.proeibandes.org. See www.mexiconacionmulticultural.org. Following the French tradition of the late 19th century, these institutions are still known as escuelas normales in several Latin American countries. In Guatemala, they are still part of secondary schooling, not of higher education, as it is now most common elsewhere. (5) Within the framework of the United Nations, eight Millennium Development Goals (MDG) were established in 2000 by 189 countries to free people from poverty and multiple deprivations.

References Albó, X. and Anaya, A. (2003) Niños alegres, libres y expresivos. La audacia de la educación intercultural bilingüe en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: UNICEF, CIPCA. Amadio, M. (1989) La cultura como recurso político: dinámicas y tendencias en América Latina. In L.E. López and R. Moya (eds) Pueblos indios, estados y educación (pp. 425–440). Lima, Peru, and Quito, Ecuador: PEEBP, ERA, PEBI. Bolaños, G., Ramos, A., Rappaport, J. and Miñana, C. (2004) ¿Qué pasaría si la escuela....? Treinta años de construcción educativa. Popayán, Colombia: Consejo Regional Indígena del Cauca. Delany, G. (2009) Bilingual intercultural teacher education: Nuevos maestros para Bolivia. Bilingual Research Journal (32) 3, 280–297. Del Popolo, F. and Oyarce A.M. (2005) América Latina, población indígena: perfil sociode­ mográfico en el marco de la Conferencia Internacional sobre la Población y el Desarrollo y de las Metas del Milenio. Santiago, Chile: CEPAL, CELADE. Dutcher, N. (2004) Language Policy and Education in Multilingual Societies: Lessons from Three Positive Models. Paper presented at Workshop A of the First Linguapax Congress, Barcelona, Spain.

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Gigante, E., Lewin, P. and Varese, S. (1986) Condiciones etno-lingüísticas y pedagógicas para una educación indígena culturalmente apropiada. Revista Paraguaya de Sociología (23) 66, 121–153. Gill, L. (2000) Teetering on the Rim. Global Restructuring, Daily Life, and the Armed Retreat of the Bolivian State. New York: Columbia University Press. Gustafson, B. (2009) New Languages of the State. Indigenous Resurgence and the Politics of Knowledge in Bolivia. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hale, C. (2004) Rethinking Indigenous Politics in the Era of the ‘Indio Permitido’. NACLA Report on the Americas 38/2 (September/October), 16–21. Hamel, R.E. (2008) Bilingual education for Indigenous communities in Mexico. In J. Cummins and N.H. Hornberger (eds) Bilingual Education. Volume 5 of the Encyclope­ dia of Language and Education (pp. 311–322). New York, NY: Springer. Heath, S.B. (1972) La política del lenguaje en México: de la colonia a la nación. México, D.F.: Secretaria de Educación Pública, Instituto Nacional Indigenista. Hernández, N. (2003) De la educación indígena a la educación intercultural: la experiencia de México. In SIT Ocasional Papers Series. No. 4. La educación indígena en las Américas. Indigenous Education in the Americas (pp.15–24). Brattleboro, VT: World Learning. Howard, R. (2007) Por los senderos de la lengua. Ideologías lingüísticas en los Andes. Lima, Peru: IFEA, IEP, PUCP. Jiménez, L. (2005) Proyectos educativos indígenas en la política educativa boliviana. La Paz, Bolivia: PINSEIB, PROEIB Andes, Plural Editores. Lin, A.M.Y. and Martin, P.W. (2005) From a critical deconstruction paradigm to a critical construction paradigm: An introduction to decolonisation, globalisation and language-­ in-education policy and practice. In A.M.Y. Lin and P.W. Martin (eds) Decolonisation, Globalisation. Language in Education Policy and Practice (pp. 1–19). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd. Lizama, J. (coord.) (2008) Escuela y proceso cultural. Ensayos sobre el sistema de educación formal dirigido a los mayas. Colección Peninsular Archipiélago. Mexico, D.F.: CIESAS. López, L.E. (1988) La escuela en Puno y el problema de la lengua: excurso histórico (1900– 1970). In L.E. López (ed.) Pesquisas en lingüística andina (pp. 265–332). Puno, Peru: Universidad Nacional del Altiplano. López, L.E. (1995) La eficacia y validez de lo obvio: lecciones aprendidas desde la evaluación de procesos educativos bilingües. Keynote address at I Congreso Latinoamericano de EIB, Antigua, Guatemala. Published in 1997 in Revista Paraguaya de Sociología 34 (99), 27–62. López, L.E. (2005) De resquicios a boquerones. La EIB en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: GTZ, UNICEF, Plural Editores. López, L.E. (2008) Top-down and bottom-up: Counterpoised visions of bilingual intercultural education in Latin America. In N.H. Hornberger (ed.) Can Schools Save Indige­ nous Languages? Policy and Practice on Four Continents (pp. 42–65). Houndmills, UK and New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan. López, L.E. (2009) Pueblos, lenguas y culturas indígenas en América Latina y el Caribe. In I. Sichra (coord.) Atlas sociolingüístico de pueblos indígenas en América Latina. (pp. 19–100). Quito, Ecuador: PROEIB Andes, UNICEF. AECID. López, L.E. and Sichra, I. (2008) Intercultural bilingual education for Indigenous peoples in Latin America. In J. Cummins and N. Hornberger (eds) Bilingual Education, Vol 5. Encyclopedia of Language and Education (2nd edn, pp. 295–309). New York, NY: Springer.

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López, L.E., Hamel, R.E. and Moya, R. (2007) Pueblos indígenas y educación superior en América Latina y el Caribe. Documento de trabajo. See http://www.nacionmulticultural.unam.mx/portal/izquierdo/ intercambio/interculturales/pdfs/DOCUMENTO. pdf (accessed 1 April 2012). Luke, A. (2005) Foreword: On the possibilities of a post-postcolonial language education. In A.M.Y. Lin and P.W. Martin (eds) Decolonisation, Globalisation. Language in Educa­ tion Policy and Practice (pp. xiv–xix). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd. Marzal, M. (1993) Historia de la antropología Indigenista. México y Perú. Lima, Peru: PUCP. Mato, D. (coord.) (2008) Diversidad cultural e interculturalidad en educación superior. Experi­ encias en América Latina. Caracas, Venezuela: UNESCO-IESAL. Meliá, B. (2009) Paraguay. In I. Sichra (coord.) Atlas sociolingüístico de pueblos indígenas en América Latina (pp. 173–195). Quito, Ecuador: PROEIB Andes, UNICEF, AECID. Moya, R. (1998) Reformas educativas e interculturalidad en América Latina. Revista Iber­ oamericana de Educación 17, 105–187. Noel, B. (2006) The Making of Cultural Orphans and Their Struggle for Self-Determination. PhD dissertation, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA. Nucinkis, N. (2006) La EIB en Bolivia. In L.E. López and C. Rojas (eds) La EIB en América Latina bajo examen (pp. 25–110). La Paz, Bolivia: Banco Mundial, GTZ, Plural Editores. Patzi, F. (1999) Etnofagia estatal. Modernas formas de violencia simbólica. Análisis de la Reforma Educativa en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: Instituto de Investigaciones Mauricio Lefebvre. Rebolledo, N. (2008) Learning with differences: strengthening Hñähnhö and bilingual teaching in an elementary school in Mexico City. In N.H. Hornberger (ed.) Can Schools Save Indigenous Languages? Policy and Practice on Four Continents (pp. 99–122). Houndmills, UK, and New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Richards, J.B. (2008) Educación bilingüe integral. En busca de la calidad educativa. Paper presented at the First Encuentro Nacional de Calidad Educativa, Guatemala, 27–29 August. Richards, J.B. and Richards, M. (1996) Maya education: A historical and contemporary analysis of Mayan Language education policy. In E. Fischer and F. Brown (eds) Maya Cultural Activism in Guatemala (pp. 208–221). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Rodas, R. (1989) Crónica de un sueño. Las escuelas indígenas de Dolores Cacuango. Una experi­ encia de educación bilingüe en Cayambe. Quito, Ecuador: PEBI, MEC, GTZ. Rubio, F. (2006) La educación bilingüe en Guatemala. In L.E. López and C. Rojas (eds) La EIB en América Latina bajo examen (pp. 185–252). La Paz, Mexico: Banco Mundial, GTZ, Plural Editores. Ruiz, R. (1984) Orientations to language planning. NABE Journal 8 (2), 15–34. Saavedra, J.L. (ed.) (2007) Educación superior, interculturalidad y descolonización. La Paz, Bolivia: PIEB, CEUB. Schmelkes, S. (2006a) La educación intercultural bilingüe en México. Paper presented at the VII Congreso Latinoamericano de Educación Intercultural Bilingüe, Cochabamba, Bolivia, 1–4 October. Schmelkes, S. (2006b) Interculturality and basic education. PRELAC Journal. Regional Edu­ cation Project for Latin America and the Caribbean. No. 3 (December), 120–128. Schmelkes, S., Águila, G. and Núñez, M.A. (2009) Alfabetización de jóvenes y adultos indígenas en México. In L.E. López and U. Hanemann (eds) Alfabetización y multi­ culturalidad. Miradas desde América Latina (pp. 237–290). Guatemala, Guatemala: UNESCO-­UIL, GTZ.

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Sichra, I. (coord.) (2009) Atlas sociolingüístico de pueblos indígenas en América Latina (Vols. I and II). Quito, Ecuador: AECID, FUNPROEIB Andes, UNICEF. Sorensen, A.P. (1967) Multilingualism in the Northwest Amazon. American Anthropologist 69, 670–684. Spivak, G.C. (1988) Can the Subaltern speak? In C. Nelson and L. Grossberg (eds) Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture (pp. 271–313). Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press. Stenzel, K. (2005) Multilingualism in the Northwest Amazon, Revisited. Paper presented at the Second Conference on Indigenous Languages of Latin America, The University of Texas, 27–29 October. CCILLA Papers on Latin American Indigenous Languages (digital). See http://lanic.utexas.edu/ project/etext/llillas/cilla/index.html. Townsend, G. (1949) El aspecto romántico de la investigación lingüística. Perú Indígena No. 2. (Lima), 39–43. Trapnell, L. (2008) Addressing knowledge and power issues in intercultural education. MA thesis, Department of Education, University of Bath, United Kingdom. UNESCO (2006) Multiculturalism and interculturalism. UNESCO Guidelines on Inter­ cultural Education (p. 17). Paris, France: Section of Education for Peace, Human Rights, Division for the Promotion of Quality Education. United Nations (2008) Press release of 28.07.08 on the visit of the UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Education. See http://www.unhchr.ch/huricane/huricane.nsf/0/9D3FD4D497161364C 125749600573EB2?opendocument (accessed 28 April 2011). Varese, S. (1987) La cultura como recurso: el desafío de la educación indígena en el marco del desarrollo nacional autónomo. In M. Zúñiga, J. Ansión y L. Cueva (eds) Educación en poblaciones indígenas. Políticas y estrategias en América Latina (pp. 169–192). Santiago, Chile: UNESCO, OREALC, III. Zavala, V., Robles, A., Trapnell, L., Zariquiey, R., Ventiades, N. and Ramírez, A. (2007) Avances y desafíos de la educación intercultural bilingüe en Bolivia, Ecuador y Perú. Estudio de casos. Lima, Peru: IBIS & CARE. Zúñiga, M. (2008) La educación intercultural bilingüe. El caso peruano. Lima, Peru: FLAPE & Foro Educativo.

2 Partnerships to Promote the Education of Indigenous Citizens Regina Cortina Introduction This chapter examines the alliance between Latin American social movements and European development aid in support of Intercultural Bilingual Education (known as EIB, using the acronym in Spanish for Educación Intercultural Bilingüe). The context for this alliance is the historical marginalization of Indigenous peoples within public education systems in Latin America and efforts of European technical assistance programs to overcome the past exclusion of Indigenous communities from quality education and leadership training. The research reported in this chapter is part of a larger research project I conducted on the partnerships between the European Union (EU) and Latin America countries in support of public education for Indigenous peoples, ethnic minorities and women, of a reduction in child labor and of other outcomes mutually agreed upon by each Latin American country and the EU. The research project’s goal was to recognize the multiple resources for education that various European countries have provided to Latin America. The research first sought to explain the commitment of European countries to Indigenous peoples and the way that aid agencies were able to convince the national governments of Latin American countries of the importance of prioritizing Indigenous education within their national policies. This project was undertaken at a timely moment, since some European agencies were ending their education programs. It was, thus, important to document their technical assistance and the financial support from Germany, Belgium, Denmark, Norway, Spain and Canada, among other countries, as well as from the United States and multilateral agencies, such as UNICEF and the World Bank. This chapter gives special attention to the key role of the German technical assistance program (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenar­ beit (GIZ))1 in research and implementation of new ways to provide quality 50

Partnerships to Promote the Education of Indigenous Citizens  51

education for Indigenous peoples, an issue that has had an increasing presence in the political discourse of Latin American countries since the 1990s. As reported in a previous article on German bilateral aid, Empowering Indig­ enous Language and Cultures (Cortina, 2010), the education project that GIZ had funded in Peru, known as Programa de Educación Básica or Program for Basic Education (PROEDUCA), terminated its operations before its planned completion in 2009. The question that naturally arose was why an educational program of such importance and a large commitment of resources (  3 million) had to be terminated before its planned completion in 2009. PROEDUCA, dedicated to the professional development of intercultural and EIB teachers in rural areas in Peru, ultimately operated from 2002 to 2007. One reason for GIZ’s abandonment of its project, after more than 30 years of support for the improvement of quality education for Indigenous peoples in Peru, is also discussed here: the national debate in the country over Indigenous education. The chapter next describes an educational project in Bolivia that was also supported by Germany but had a different focus: El Programa de For­ mación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos (Program for Professional Development in Intercultural and Bilingual Education for the Andean Countries (PROEIB-Andes)) in the Universidad Mayor de San Simón in Cochabamba. This project is now integrated into Bolivia’s public university and has stopped receiving German aid after 12 years of sustained technical and financial support. Another goal of the research discussed was to find out what happened with the education initiatives in both Peru and Bolivia once German technical assistance, of more than 30 years’ duration, ended. The concluding section of the chapter reviews both cases and points out that the alliance between the organized Indigenous movement and European governments was not enough to redress social and education inequality for Indigenous communities, since the partners of foreign aid projects were the national governments of the countries where the Indigenous peoples live and many times they themselves did not do their share to advance educational reform through public education. The commitment of public policies and State funding in those countries to fulfill their part in a bilateral contract was crucial to aid projects, since it had to rise above the country’s political tensions. The qualitative research presented in this chapter comprises 10 interviews in Peru (February 2011) and 11 in Bolivia (August 2011).2 Each interview lasted from a half hour to more than an hour, and all were recorded and translated from Spanish by the researcher. Among those interviewed were five former PROEDUCA professional staff (all of them Peruvian),

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the director and five faculty members at the PROEIB-Andes, representatives of the Universidad Indígena Intercultural (Indigenous Intercultural University, known by its acronym in Spanish (UII)) in Bolivia, academics from Peru and Bolivia, representatives of GIZ in both countries but not education professionals, former and current government officials and researchers at several NGOs. In preparation for the research trips, interviews were also conducted at GIZ headquarters in Frankfurt and with GIZ program directors in Bolivia and Guatemala. To complement the interviews, this chapter also draws from available policy documents and reports by the Peruvian and Bolivian governments and international development agencies.

The Evolution of Intercultural Bilingual Education EIB is evolving as an alternative education pedagogy and practice within a complex framework of interaction between Indigenous peoples’ initiatives, education initiatives from their respective governments, bilateral agencies, multilateral agencies and ‘transnational intellectual networks’ (Charle et al., 2004: 11). Transnational intellectual networks refer to the growing number of academic exchanges across national borders between scholars within or among disciplines ‘to borrow and utilize, or imitate foreign innovation and to prove one’s national excellence by opening one’s institutions to foreign scholars and students’ (Charle et al., 2004: 11). In this case, the definition refers both to the opening of the European universities to receive Indigenous students and to the international work of social scientists and linguists to develop new literacy strategies for Indigenous peoples. It is particularly useful to view the growing recognition of the academic field of EIB as a result of transnational intellectual networks that have helped to institute and spread the pedagogical model through the alliance between the Indigenous peoples and academics willing to confront the purpose of public education in their respective countries. The acknowledgment in Latin American countries of cultural diversity and multilinguism is an important historical event, overturning the original purpose for the expansion of public schools, which was national consolidation through the teaching of Spanish and the assimilation of Indigenous peoples. An important factor was also the technical assistance programs financed by GIZ working closely with Indigenous organizations and their leadership and other social movements (Dietz & Mateos Cortés, 2011). For this reason, as Luis Enrique López, one of the main advocates for EIB in Latin America, says, continuous expansion of EIB cannot depend on each country’s Ministry of Education, nor can it be understood outside the active participation of

Partnerships to Promote the Education of Indigenous Citizens  53

community and Indigenous organizations. ‘When political participation of Indigenous communities regarding educational decisions has been the highest, the acceptance of this type of education and its results, too, have been the strongest’ (López & Rojas, 2006: 370). The case studies of Peru and Bolivia explore the response of the State to Indigenous peoples’ demand to have voice and presence in decision making regarding public education and to include their own perspectives in schools that serve their communities.

The Basic Education Program in Peru The Basic Education Program (PROEDUCA) in Peru began in 2002 and was scheduled to end in 2009. However, it was terminated two years earlier in 2007, and its European partner, the German Technical Assistance Program (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ)), shut down its education program office in the country. The program had evolved from earlier German technical assistance efforts in teacher education and curriculum development in Peru whose goal was to improve the quality of education for elementary school teachers in the Institutos Superiores Pedagógicos in the Andean region of Peru, referred to as teacher-training institutions in this chapter. The objective of PROEDUCA was to train the faculty and directors of these public teacher-training institutions, located in rural communities, to improve the knowledge and teaching methods of teachers in intercultural education and EIB. The main group targeted was the professional staff of the institutes, or the teacher trainers, who were to design a new type of curriculum to improve the quality of education for Indigenous communities. Thus, by developing intercultural education and EIB conceptually and pedagogically, the aim was to improve learning outcomes both in the teacher-­ training institutes and in the schools located in the communities.

EIB in Peru PROEDUCA’s goals can only be understood in the context of educational access and quality of schooling for the approximately 1 million Indigenous children and young adults in Peru. The country’s 2003 General Education Law requires that EIB be available at all levels of the public education system. However, it is important to note that EIB is available only in rural elementary schools; thus, thousands of Indigenous children living in urban areas are excluded from the possibility of learning in their home language. In 2008, only 38% of Indigenous children had access to an EIB school; and

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EIB was only available for 34% of Quechua speakers, the largest Indigenous language group in Peru (Benavides et al., 2010: 69). The investment in teacher education in Peru was viewed as necessary because Indigenous students were receiving an education of the lowest quality. The performance of students in EIB schools was very poor, since only 2% of the teachers who worked in rural EIB schools had a professional certification in EIB and 46% of EIB school teachers were not trained in EIB at all (Benavides et al., 2010: 72). Non-Indigenous students who attended regular schools performed better in national evaluations than those who attended EIB schools. The 2008 Evaluation Census, conducted by the Ministry of Education, shows that intercultural bilingual education schools were underperforming; some 74% of the students who attended them, and for whom Spanish was a second language, scored below level 1 of the evaluation, meaning that they were not able to achieve expected learning outcomes in their own language. In contrast, students whose first language was Spanish achieved better results on the test: only 23.2% of them scored below level 1. Moreover, only 10.5% of students attending intercultural and bilingual institutions developed the reading skills expected in their native languages (Ministerio de Educación, 2012a). When the gap between rural and urban communities is taken into consideration, the Evaluation Census shows that 57% of scores below level 1 were for students living in rural areas, while only 14% of those living in urban areas scored below this level (Ministerio de Educación, 2012b). The assumptions behind PROEDUCA were that learning outcomes for students are closely associated with teachers’ education, which explains its motivation to create a coherent and effective pedagogy for teaching and learning in EIB schools. The investment in the professional development of teachers was at the center of their strategy to improve the quality of education, since there is neither a national curriculum nor a clear understanding of the basic principles that the universities or teacher-training institutions need to follow for teacher development in EIB. The exception is the bilingual teacher-training institute in Iquitos in the Amazonian region, where the regional Indigenous organizations and the state institution have developed a curriculum for more than 20 years (Trapnell, 2003). In addition, the goal of PROEDUCA was to increase the number of teacher-training institutions offering Intercultural Education and EIB in those regions where they were working, since there were very few such institutions and universities offering these studies, and no EIB education was available for secondary school teachers. Beyond the professional training for teachers, as one Peruvian academic interviewed pointed out, the low quality of schooling for Indigenous

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children resulted from a lack of public investment and minimal public services in schools of the Andes. An indicator of this lack of investment is that only 9% of schools for Quechua-speaking children had access to the three most basic services: water, electricity and connection to public sewage systems. In contrast, 71% of the schools for children whose home language was Spanish had access to these basic services (Benavides et al., 2010: 98). The lack of a State presence in the Andes and the lack of commitment in public policy to improve access to education by providing basic public services to the school are strong indicators of the marginalization of Indigenous children in the highlands. To address the critical need to educate teachers in EIB, the components of PROEDUCA emphasized teacher development, school management and self-reflection on attaining participatory and intercultural education practice. Furthermore, PROEDUCA provided textbooks, guides and manuals for improving the managerial and leadership capacities in the schools in the regions, since regional and local communities historically had not been empowered politically and economically to develop their own leadership for managing their schools. The program was designed to enhance the decentralization of education in Peru and provide technical support to the regions by developing community leadership and professional development for their EIB teachers. GIZ final program evaluation describes these objectives: At the center of the pedagogical concept was the active participation of children in the lessons, whose own learning processes and personality development were to be supported. This was implemented through the inclusion of students in the lesson activities, the facilitation of their independence through group work, the reduction of disciplining and fear as well as the reduction of lecture-style/teacher-centered teaching. The goal was a sustainable change in teaching and learning behavior. Particular importance was attached to the inclusion and participation of parents (and communities) in all school-related questions. (Baecker, 2008: 2–3)3 In a document prepared to explain the purpose of the program to teacher trainers in the institutes, the objectives were defined as follows: ‘develop the ability of interculturality and bilinguism in teachers so that they can contribute to equal learning outcomes for all children and a process of democratization and social equality’ (Zavala & Córdova, 2003: 15). The partners of GIZ in the development of the project were the Ministry of Education, the regional governments and the teacher-training institutions in four regions of Peru (Huancavelica, Lambayeque, Madre de Dios and

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Piura). Of these four regions only one, Huancavelica, is a Quechua-speaking area (Madre de Dios is in the Amazon basin and Indigenous Amazonian languages are spoken there, and the other two are mostly Spanish-speaking rural areas), since the focus of PROEDUCA was on the decentralization of education decision making and was not solely on EIB. The teacher-training institutions in these regions were considered a pilot project since the program envisioned scaling up to all the teacher-training institutions in the country.

Historical Background of the Partnership In 1975, during the presidency of Velasco Alvarado (1968–1975), Quechua became an official language in Peru along with Spanish, and at that time the German government was first invited to start its technical assistance project in education in Peru. In 1972, the first Política Nacional de Educación Bilingüe (National Policy of Bilingual Education) was enacted in Peru, and the first project financed by the German government started in Puno in 1977 (Programa Experimental de Educación Bilingüe en el Departamento de Puno, 1977–1991). Through the work in Puno, as one of the GIZ program officers explained during an interview, GIZ learned that in order to have an impact on education it needed to learn how to work with the community since its previous work had been exclusively with the schools. And in order to do work with the community it had to learn how to work directly with the Indigenous leadership. The participation of the Indigenous leadership has gone hand-in-hand with EIB expansion as demonstrated by their presence in all regional academic congresses of EIB and the increased presence of Indigenous organizations in local communities. Since the initial project in Puno, successive projects focused on preservice professional education for teachers, teacher education in EIB and the strengthening of the teacher-training institution. The sustained technical and financial contributions for improving teacher professional development led to EIB finally becoming a national policy with the establishment of the Dirección Nacional de Educación Bilingüe Intercultural (the National Office for Intercultural Bilingual Education) within the Ministry of Education in 2002. The launch of PROEDUCA was built then upon a sequence of successful projects developed in collaboration between GIZ technical assistance and the Ministry of Education. The document, Construyendo una Política de Formación Magisterial 1997–2006 (Building a Policy of Teacher Education), published in 2006, describes the achievements of the German technical assistance in teacher education. The public officials in the Ministry were grateful for all

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the support GIZ gave Peru over 30 years to improve teacher development and school management, as stated decisively in the interview by the former director of teacher education, ‘It would not have been possible to upgrade teacher education without the support of Germany’. The context for this comment was again the lack of investment by the government to improve the quality of schooling in the Andean highlands. The improvement of teacher-training institutions was part of a longterm goal of improving learning outcomes in EIB schools and was considered a building block for an intercultural national education policy. Historically, the practice in Peru, as in many other Latin American countries, was to use bilingual education only as a transition program for Indigenous children to learn Spanish. But during the 1980s, the concept of interculturalidad linked to the field of education became institutionalized. As indicated earlier, the concept was influenced by transnational intellectual networks that included Indigenous and social movements and the international development agencies. Interculturalidad, which implies heightened communication between cultures, is not the mere presence of diversity or pluralism and it is not to be confused with multiculturalism. Rather, it is the teaching about and understanding of two different cultures on an equal footing through the schooling process. In Peru, as in other countries, interculturalidad is seen as a concept needed to educate children in rural communities, and intercultural education was seen as a teaching and learning practice only for the Indigenous groups. Yet the challenge for the reform, then, was how to promote interculturalidad as education pedagogy for all the schools in the country, not only for those serving Indigenous teachers and students, a challenge that, in fact, the education system still faces to this day.

Toward a Regional Educational Policy During the administration of President Alejandro Toledo (2001–2006), GIZ launched two new initiatives in the field of education. The first focused on providing technical assistance to develop regional educational policies designed to create a cadre of policy makers at the regional level. The second was to develop, in the context of PROEDUCA, guidelines for the creation of a regionally decentralized education policy, Guía para una formulación concer­ tada del proyecto educativo regional (Guide for the Design of a Regional Education Project), in the format of an educational manual (Salazar & Andrade, 2006). The regional education project was imagined as a process of educational change that included the joint participation of civil society and local

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authorities. One key aim was to apprise local authorities of their need to prepare for the decentralization process that was envisioned. If enacted, the decentralization of education decision making would have affected the management of the schools. The idea was not to transfer education decision making to the communities and regions before giving them the possibility to develop local leaders for the schools and to continue to train their teachers. The need to develop human resources and leadership at the regional level had arisen in other countries in the region when preparing to launch an educational decentralization project. The regional education project was based on the assumption that, as one former PROEDUCA professional staff explained during an interview, in the regions there were no local resources to improve the managerial and leadership capacities in communities and schools. The Guía para una for­ mulación concertada del proyecto educativo regional (Salazar & Andrade, 2006), based on the pilot projects in the four regions of Peru cited above, was designed to enable other regions to understand the role that parents and communities could play in education policy. Its authors state that ‘education policy implies the participation of civil society in a process of public deliberation in its design and management’ (Salazar & Andrade, 2006: 113). During the year-and-a-half that GIZ developed the program, leadership in the regions was established and communities were mobilized to debate and reflect on the possible change; as one former PROEDUCA staff member put it: ‘people needed to learn how to participate’. The document describes education decentralization ‘as a political process and not only an administrative one which recognizes the interests and demands of national, regional and local actors in education development’ (Salazar & Andrade, 2006: 18). Hands-on design of education policy, strengthening the management of education services and improving teacher education were the three pillars upon which PROEDUCA expected to build the quality of education in EIB schools. In the view of the former director of teacher education in the Ministry, the outcome was that for many teachers the quality of their education and their knowledge about EIB improved. He explained that approximately ‘40% of those teachers trained have become leaders in their regions and now have positions in municipal governments and in the regional presidencies’. He added, ‘The work carried out in the teacher-training institutes helped to raise the cultural level and the commitment to social change in the communities’. From the perspective of Peruvian professional consultants who worked for GIZ, the aim of the program was ‘building national capacities to reflect on education’. The role of the professional staff was to provide technical

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assistance and to pursue the process of educational change, through acompañamiento, or accompanying teachers and parents in the process of learning to reflect about the purpose and strategies for education in their communities. The final evaluation by GIZ describes how the objectives were reached: The teacher-training institutions that the project worked with trained students and teaching staff in a better way. Particularly, in the area of participation of the teaching staff in the development and use of management instruments, the results exceeded the expectations by far. Moreover, for the first time, regional public institutions, together with civil society, created their own regional education policy. As a result, for the first time, curricula were designed and adjusted to regional needs, and the implementation was supervised by the civil society and regional institutions and authorities. Moreover, the report continues: The impacts at the school level can be traced back to the participatory mode of operation introduced by PROEDUCA, which was adopted by regional actors (teacher-training institutions, regional governments and regional comanagement committees) and passed on to the respective schools. The positive results indicate that the strategy used by PROEDUCA, which was to act independently of the Ministry of Education and the teacher union at the regional and local level, was successful. (Baecker, 2008: 6) The final evaluation for PROEDUCA, in terms of its effects on improving basic education for Indigenous children – approximately 385,000 Quechua speakers in elementary schools alone (Benavides et al., 2010) – reports that elementary school completion rates ‘increased in all program regions, most clearly in Huancavelica from 52.4% to 63% and in Lambayeque from 67.6% to 81%’ (Baecker, 2008: 6).

A reversal in national policy and priorities During Alan García’s presidency (2006–2011), rural education stopped being a priority. Several of the PROEDUCA professional staff stated during the interviews that no one ever thought that García would stop the process of decentralization. As was the case in many countries in the region, there

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was little continuity in social policy from one presidential administration to the next. Unlike the preceding Toledo (2001–2006) administration, investment in education during García’s terms was primarily in urban schools and it targeted the middle class. As one policy analyst said during an interview, ‘education policy is not redistributive and in the end there is nothing for Indigenous peoples’. As a way of describing the changing priorities and the neoliberal reforms that were taking place, one of the former professional staff of PROEDUCA commented during the interviews, ‘Lima mira hacia el mar y hacia Miami’ or ‘Lima looks toward the sea and to Miami’, emphasizing the García administration’s prioritizing of foreign trade and business over solving problems in the country’s Andean and Amazonian interior. Former Peruvian President Alejandro Toledo said in a newspaper interview, ‘I would like to tell you in all candor that President García committed a great error. Alan García burned all the bridges for dialogue between the municipal, regional and central governments. García burned all the bridges, tumbling the National Committee for Decentralization’ (Leiva Galvez, 2012: 2a). As GIZ was ending its project in 2007, the Ministry of Education enacted ‘Nota 14’ or Grade 14, establishing a minimum passing grade to enter the teacher-training institutions. This action increased the required average grade for entering the rural teacher-training institutions to 14 out of 20 on the grading scale. Many prospective students coming from rural areas and Indigenous communities did not reach the average grade needed to qualify for admission and without students the teacher-training institutions closed. Today, there are only five teacher-training institutions and four universities in Peru that offer studies in EIB at the preschool and elementary school levels, and no EIB professional development is provided for teachers at the secondary level. As a result of establishing a minimum passing grade during 2007–2010, there was a drastic decline in the number of teachers accepted to study EIB: where out of the 1928 persons that applied only 82 were accepted (Abanto, 2011). Indigenous peoples from the Amazon and Andes regions are determined to claim their right to EIB, and even though there is not a sustained organized Indigenous movement that keeps up the demand for EIB, there are collaborations between regional universities and Indigenous organizations in the preparation of teachers for EIB. In the case of the Peruvian Amazon Basin, the Indigenous confederation and the Loreto state teacher-training college developed a curriculum for teacher training in EIB that would include Indigenous peoples’ needs and demands (Trapnell, 2003). In contrast with the Amazon region, where EIB has received more support from the Indigenous leadership, in the highlands EIB matters greatly to Indigenous people but lacks the necessary support

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from Indigenous organizations and their leadership for implementing the educational reform in the communities (García, 2005a). ‘Nota 14’ was reversed by Ollanta Humala when he became president in 2011. The teacher-training institutions are now required to provide compensatory education. But the damage in terms of the teacher-training institutions was already done, and the German technical assistance program has ended. It is of interest to point out that a World Bank program to improve preschools and elementary schools in the rural areas, Rural Education Project, for $52.5 million (2004–2007) was also discontinued in 2007 during the first phase of a 10-year plan because of the Ministry of Education’s ‘unclear political commitment’ (World Bank, 2008: 11) to ‘strengthen technical and management skills in the regions’ (World Bank, 2008: 16) and decentralize education decision making at the regional level in order to provide support to the rural schools. GIZ’s project in Peru was intended to include teacher education in EIB within the larger project of decentralization of education decision making. The former director of teacher education said in the interview that it was GIZ’s idea to strengthen the training of teachers in EIB and that the government accepted the idea. Two main factors led to Germany’s decision to end the program and withdraw from education projects in Peru after 32 years of continuous assistance: the absence of a single nationally organized Indigenous movement in Peru, in contrast with Bolivia and Ecuador, that can support and help carry out the educational strategy, and the obstruction of the education reform program by the political decision to stop the decentralization process and reduce admission in the teacher-training institutes while they were working to strengthen EIB. As Narda Henriquez has pointed out, the Indigenous majorities of Quechuas and Aymaras in Peru have been reduced to minorities, ignored by the elites and the state. The populations of Quechuas and Aymaras were weakened and became identified as peasants, and only recently, with the growth of the mining industry in Indigenous territory, and the environmental conflict that arose, can we see the beginning of a growing Indigenous identity, even though in most of the Andean region, there is no self-identification as Indigenous peoples. This absence of a nationally organized Indigenous movement in Peru is reflected in the inequality of access and quality of public universities, which tend to be rundown and deficient (Henriquez, 2012: 3–4). The goal of PROEDUCA to improve the quality of education in EIB for Indigenous children through the professional development of teachers was admirable, but the needed State support to build the program’s long-term sustainability was lacking. Nevertheless, teacher education continues to be at the core of any reform to improve the quality of education. In a 2010

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article about the future of EIB in Bolivia, Guido Machaca, the executive director of the PROEIB-Andes Foundation, argued that ‘what is needed is to start, once and for all, in every part of education, in centers for teacher education and in the universities of the country, the education of teachers in EIB’ (Machaca, 2010: 115). The expansion of EIB beyond the elementary school level at which EIB is offered in most countries today will require intensive expansion of professional development for teachers in EIB all over the region. It can only be hoped that the reform efforts in Bolivia advance more smoothly than those in Peru. As is evident from the case of Peru, longterm political commitment is key to the establishment of education reforms.

Intercultural Bilingual Education in Bolivia EIB and the education of Indigenous people is highly relevant to Bolivia, given that it is the country in Latin America with the largest percentage of Indigenous peoples in its population. In a total population of close to 10 million, 66% are Indigenous. Approximately 6 million people in Bolivia speak a home language other than Spanish: Quechua (30%), Aymara (25%) and Guaraní and others (6%) (Bolivia Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas, 2010). One of the recurrent topics emerging from the interviews was the centrality of the participation of Indigenous movements and the inclusion of Indigenous knowledge as part of academic knowledge as the most salient contributions of the EIB development. There was great concern among the faculty that once the EIB master’s program – El Programa de Formación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos (Program for Professional Development in Intercultural Bilingual Education for the Andean Countries (PROEIB-Andes)) – was established within the public university in Cochabamba there might be a decline in the participation and presence of Indigenous leadership in it. From the perspective of one female Indigenous leader, ‘EIB is absolutely revolutionary, since it is not opportune for the government to stir up the demands of the people’. From her perspective, the ‘Indigenous leadership in Bolivia was consolidated through EIB, and the growth in self-esteem among Indigenous people is what defines Bolivia today’. She added that ‘Indigenous organizations had contributed significantly to education’. Moreover, this leader stressed that, from her perspective, one of the most important contributions of EIB was the presence of girls in the schools. She explained that ‘the social construction of gender takes place during childhood, and from then on the role of women in society is devalued. With greater participation

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of girls in schools, the Indigenous organizations have given greater thought to the role of education in the communities’. At the center of public debate over EIB in Bolivia is not how much or what types of additional support other European countries will provide, but what the government and the Ministry of Education in Bolivia will do to support Indigenous education and EIB across the country. Now that Bolivia has been declared a plurinational state – one that recognizes the rights of the Quechua and Aymara nations to self-determination and is committed to provide equal access and quality of schooling to all citizens, through the December 2010 enactment of the education law, Avelino Siñani-Elizardo Pérez – the country aspires to provide education for all that is described as intracultural, intercultural and plurilingual. ‘Intra’ refers to teaching the values of each and every culture in the nation, ‘inter’ implies that there will be heightened communication between cultures and plurilingual means adding the Indigenous languages to the education system in addition to Spanish and English. Since the education legislation was passed in 2010, there has been increasing public discussion in Bolivia about how to move forward with the education reform. One issue is whether there is a need to create a national curriculum. An alternative would be different community or regional curricula that integrate into the new education the wisdom, knowledge and languages of the Indigenous peoples, since one of the main goals of the law is social and community participation in education decision making. At the time of the interviews, it was not yet clear how the new curriculum was going to include the ‘decolonization’ aspect of education or the elimination of centuries-old ideological and educational practices through which Indigenous children have been excluded from learning in schools. Decolonization is one of the principles included in the new legislation, and it is one of the most discussed issues within the Consejos Educativos de los Pueblos Originarios (education committees at the community level among Indigenous peoples from the Amazon and the Andes regions), since it is through this process that the intercultural component of education will be achieved. Decolonization in this context refers to the inclusion of Indigenous peoples’ knowledge and languages in public education and the process of educating citizens in a way that is intercultural rather than monocultural (see Chapter 7, this volume).

The inclusion of indigenous peoples’ voices In Bolivia, the projects supported by German technical and financial assistance sought to promote the access of Indigenous peoples to universities

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across Latin America, starting in 1996 with the design and implementation of the first master’s degree in EIB in Latin America through PROEIB-­Andes4 housed in the Universidad Mayor de San Simón in Cochabamba. For 12 years, until 2007, with support from GIZ, the master’s program offered education to cadres of professionals who identified themselves as Indigenous, spoke Indigenous languages and could contribute to the design of EIB education policy. In its beginnings, the program emerged from the collaboration between the Ministries of Education, Indigenous movements and universities in five Andean countries (Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Chile and Colombia); later, Argentina joined as well. The PROEIB-Andes is widely recognized in Latin America for its contribution to the development of Indigenous academics and Indigenous leadership across the region. For example, Maria Elena García wrote in Making Indigenous Citizens (2005b), ‘Indigenous leaders leaving the PROEIB have all been trained in bilingual intercultural education methodology and are expected to disseminate this kind of education among the highland communities. For these leaders, speaking, reading and writing in Quechua has become a status symbol…. As such they form part of the increasing number of individuals throughout Latin America who are seen by states, international donor organizations and NGOs as representative of Indigenous peoples, and their social status is elevated accordingly’ (García, 2005b: 159–160). Nancy Hornberger has conducted extensive ethnographic research on professionalization and language revitalization among Indigenous graduate students in the PROEIB-Andes. A specialist in bilingual education and Quechua language maintenance in highland Peru, Hornberger, and her co-author have written that the experiences of students in the master’s program ‘offer real evidence on the ways these Indigenous educators reclaim and revitalize their languages and identities in the face of a larger societal and policy context of possible loss’ (Hornberger & Swinehart, 2012: 48). Furthermore, they conclude that ‘in global/local spaces like the PROEIB Maestría … these Indigenous professionals push back against language endangerment by expanding and reshaping Indigenous knowledge, identity, and linguistic and cultural practice’ (Hornberger & Swinehart, 2012: 48).

The master’s degree program The most significant accomplishment of the PROEIB-Andes was the development of the master’s program in EIB. This program has now completed its seventh cohort of graduates (approximately 150 students) and has become a source of knowledge, technical assistance and research for the development of EIB in the region. Germany contributed primarily to starting the program, giving it some of the characteristics that make it

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different from other programs, such as the fact that all the students are full time and the emphasis on developing the students’ academic skills and social science research methodologies. For Indigenous leaders, the contributions of the master’s program have been essential in strengthening their Indigenous identities and empowering them politically. In the same way, the social science research training that Indigenous students received provided them with the knowledge that enables them to participate actively in the design and promotion of public education policies in the region. In the words of one former student who is currently a faculty member: The PROEIB-Andes is a space that allows us to give voice to being Indigenous. If it were not for this space, no one would hear us…. The contribution of PROEIB-Andes is the strengthening of our Indigenous identities; our ability to reflect on oneself has an impact on our teaching. Before, we were taught that knowledge came from Europe and the North, but that is not our knowledge. Now we know that the PROEIB-Andes also can develop knowledge, and it is everywhere and emerges from the revitalization of our language. The present director of PROEIB-Andes, Vicente Limachi, stated that the contribution of GIZ went beyond all the offices, technology and library resources that made it possible to work within a public university. The most important contribution, as noted above, was the mobilization of transnational intellectual networks, as he pointed out: Professionals from different disciplines and countries had come here to allow us to reflect on our own understanding of interculturality and bilinguism, which contributed to our own intellectual development. And, I say, our own understanding because we are the result of these efforts to train Indigenous professionals. As a result, what is happening today, not only in Bolivia but also in the other countries from where our fellow students had come, is that Indigenous professionals have been able to reach high levels within the Ministries of Education, and we can participate in the decision making of education policy. In the Ministry of Education in Bolivia now, there are several of our own graduates. The Vice Ministers, not only in Bolivia but also in Guatemala, are our former colleagues. Our presence is not only at the decision-making level, but in the teacher-training institutes, in the universities, in Indigenous organizations. All of this international mobilization has permitted the institutionalization of the knowledge base of EIB as well as putting that knowledge base into practice.

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The termination of the German support in 2007 affected the PROEIB-­ Andes in significant ways. The end of funding caused a loss not only in financial resources but also in faculty status, even though the master’s in EIB continued to be housed in the Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias de la Educación (Humanities and Education Faculty) in the Universidad Mayor de San Simón in Cochabamba. That niche for the program was in itself a significant accomplishment, since students in Bolivia previously had limited access to higher education. In 2009, only 300,000 students were registered in higher education, which represents just 3% of the total population of the country (Bolivia Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas, 2010). With the end of the program, the faculty became part of the professoriate of a starkly under-funded public university in Bolivia. Faculty members now operate within a more regimented work environment. They are now required, for example, to ‘punch in’ time cards like administrative staff. In addition to this more bureaucratic institutional framework, faculty must also contend with scarcer resources. This situation is described by the present director of PROEIB-Andes: The master ’s program has international recognition, and today we have students from other countries in Latin America beyond the Andean region. As it is the case with any other project that starts with financial and technical support from an external funder, that funding stops at the end of the project period, but we accepted the challenge to continue, [but] this is particularly difficult within a public university due to the lack of financial resources for this program or any other program, especially because this is a graduate program. At present, the program is being self-financed through scholarships to students. Most importantly, he added, ‘The political moment has changed. When the master’s program started in 1996, we were working in partnership with the Ministries of Education of different countries. Today, there is much less opportunity to participate in teacher education. Specifically in the case of Bolivia, the union has taken control of education decision making and has restricted our access to the teacher-training institutions’. One of the faulty members present during the above interview added that when the ‘GIZ contribution stopped, the idea was to achieve local sustainability of the master’s program by transferring it to the public university. As a result, today we have fewer students in the program than we used to have, and most of them are Bolivian’. One of the explanations for this reduction in the number of students is that other countries and universities in the region have started their own master’s programs in EIB. The director of the PROEIB-Andes also referred to the end of the German aid:

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…even though we continue to have the library, we are not able to develop it the same way. We are only able to maintain the master’s program now. In the past, we were able to engage in research, but we have lost the possibility of doing research. We were able to do team-teaching with small groups of students, and we were able to help them reflect on their practice within traditional schooling. Addressing the political situation in Bolivia, the faculty member stressed that although Evo Morales, the current president, is the first Indigenous president of Bolivia ‘previous governments gave more support to EIB than the present government, paradoxically’. He continued, expressing hope that ‘…our experience can be used by the Ministry of Education to continue developing teachers in EIB…. Before, there was more support from the national governments for scholarships, but we are losing scholarships from other countries. In the case of Bolivia, the Indigenous government is not supporting Indigenous students with scholarships’. The two faculty members were referring to the fact that teacher education in EIB schools faced political opposition in Bolivia similar to that encountered in Peru. In both countries, there is a great need to improve the quality of education and the knowledge of teachers in EIB schools, but there is a divide between urban and rural teachers, since urban teachers and their unions have always been opposed to EIB. In addition, during the presidency of Evo Morales, anything that happened before him is being called a neoliberal reform, a pejorative label in the context of Latin American politics. Hence, during his administration, EIB is treated incongruously as a neoliberal education reform, and this administration has also been hostile to the presence of international aid agencies in Bolivia. Those agencies have led, in collaboration with the Ministry of Education in Bolivia, the expansion of EIB in the country. The end of German support affected the sustainability of the master’s program in another way. Germany’s departure was equally relevant for the Indigenous students as for their faculty. For the students, the loss of full scholarships was highly significant as it supported them throughout their studies. At the beginning, the funding for the scholarship was granted by the regional governments as part of their agreement to support the master’s program. Later on, the Ford Foundation and Belgian technical assistance also provided significant funding for students from Chile, Mexico and Peru. But without Germany’s presence as a partner, fewer resources were made available from national governments and other foundations. In 2006, before Germany’s support ended, the PROEIB-Andes Foundation5 was created to find additional funds for scholarships and other resources to continue supporting the EIB master’s program, its research

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programs and the development of Indigenous leadership. In addition to securing other sources of funding, the PROEIB-Andes Foundation has been able to partner with the Norwegian Students’ and Academics’ International Assistance Fund (SAIH).6 SAIH mostly supports access to higher education and non-formal education for Indigenous young adults. The resources from SAIH are used by the foundation to support scholarships for the master’s program as well as the training program for young Indigenous students, closely associated with the education reform in Bolivia.

The specialization program Germany began providing financial and technical resources for the PROEIB-Andes in 1996 and ended its contributions in 2007. With an eye toward sustainability and in order to continue to support its initial goal of expanding higher education opportunities for Indigenous peoples, GIZ continued channeling funding and expertise to the network of the Latin American UII (Universidad Indígena Intercultural). To carry on with the expansion of graduate training in EIB, a specialization program in EIB was developed jointly with UII that has now graduated its fourth cohort. In contrast with the master’s program, the specialization program is mostly online. In addition to the online sessions, an innovative component of the program is the funding of an itinerant professorship, or Cátedra Indígena, to offer participants week-long seminars twice during the sequence taught by knowledgeable Indigenous experts and leaders who are part of UII. UII is supported by the Fondo Indígena (Fund for the Development of the Indigenous Peoples of Latin America and the Caribbean),7 a multilateral organization committed to the development and sustainability of the rights of Indigenous peoples that is supported by 19 Latin American countries and three European countries (Cortina, 2010). Through its partnership with the fund, new resources have arrived to continue supporting the expansion of EIB. The Spanish agency, Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo (AECID), and Belgian government are contributing funds for UII for scholarships. In addition, Sweden and Norway are providing scholarships for graduate Indigenous students to continue their graduate education in their own national universities.

Conclusion: Lessons Learned The relationship between national governments and Indigenous peoples in Latin America has changed dramatically, since their collective rights were

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recognized in 1989 by the International Labour Organization Convention (no. 169) Concerning Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries and the adoption of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007. EIB grew out of that change and helped to reinforce greater respect for Indigenous peoples’ rights. The master’s degree in EIB has allowed many young people to become professionals, even though in the two countries discussed here – Peru and Bolivia – the national education policies played a less supportive role than demanded by Indigenous peoples and their leadership. Germany, through its technical assistance, has been committed to supporting Indigenous communities and peoples in Latin America. The impetus for its technical assistance is recognition of ethnic, cultural and linguistic diversity of Latin America and the desire to work with governments and Indigenous organizations to create spaces for dialogue about the rights of Indigenous peoples and their autonomy. As documented previously (Cortina, 2010: 53), ‘Respect and support for the rights of Indigenous peoples has been and remains the major objective of German economic and development cooperation’. With that statement, the German Ambassador began his address to the United Nations Eighth Session of the Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues on 8 May 2009. Within this larger framework of German commitment to support the rights of Indigenous peoples, it is possible to trace the country’s continuous efforts with respect to the development of teachers and administrators who are essential to the provision of meaningful basic education to the poor and marginalized Indigenous communities of the Americas. During all these years in Peru and Bolivia, German technical assistance programs contributed greatly to the creation of knowledge about Intercultural Bilingual Education. With an eye toward sustainability, GIZ invested substantially in the development of human resources and specialized educational materials in the Ministries of Education of both Peru and Bolivia. It did this while implementing new strategies, most notably channeling funding and expertise to other areas, such as specializations in the network of the Latin American Universidad Indígena Intercultural. In terms of the emphasis of the reform, it is clear that the goal of working within the teacher-training institutes proved quite difficult to achieve. The training of teachers within the institutes was closely connected to the building of nationhood at the beginning of the 20th century and the establishment of public education for Indigenous peoples. In most countries, teacher-training institutions are closely connected to State power through political parties and teacher unions. Moving away from supporting reform within the teacher-training institutions, which has been difficult to do, the

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financial and technical support to develop Indigenous leadership and EIB is shifting toward the universities. This shift will provide more room for implementing reform, since the role of the universities is more flexible and they are less subject to direct State control. Even though the national governments are committed through legislation and educational policy to continuing the expansion of quality education through EIB, the academics, Indigenous leaders and NGO leaders interviewed for this study made it clear that the end of the German aid has created ‘an unstable situation, since the State is enacting legislation but it needs the technical support to implement the reforms’, as one education specialist in one of the international NGOs said. In the case of Bolivia, the same education specialist added that ‘the Indigenous peoples are not familiar with what the government is doing in education decision making, and the academic community is not participating’. The former director of teacher education in the Ministry of Education in Peru reported that in spite of how many teachers were trained, ‘we Peruvians did not value [GIZ] technical assistance’. Finally, one Indigenous leader in Bolivia said, ‘GIZ has made available the greatest support for the development of EIB, but unfortunately we have not done enough to exploit the talents and possibilities that were provided’. German support for education ended at the same time in Peru and Bolivia. Both countries are redirecting their national development policies. Even though the changes that are taking place are going in opposite directions in Peru and Bolivia, German support helped to sustain progress in the implementation and further development of EIB in both countries. In the case of Peru, the political shift reflects aspirations to become a bigger player in the global economy. The resulting policies will negatively affect Indigenous education in the Amazon and the highlands, since the state’s neoliberal reforms have not resulted in greater investments in public universities, which will remain deficient and help perpetuate the lack of access to quality education for Indigenous peoples. Bolivia, by contrast, is moving away from neoliberal reforms that aim for greater integration into the global economy. The State, with the passing of new legislation, is increasing its presence in education policy making and the professional development of teachers. However, Bolivia is not increasing investment in education locally or in support of EIB. In the short term, these national policy changes might derail the progress that has been achieved through partnerships between Indigenous peoples and their European allies in support of quality education for Indigenous communities. In conclusion, this chapter has provided evidence about the role that transnational intellectual networks have played in support of the alliance between the organized Indigenous movements and their European partners

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to expand quality education for Indigenous peoples. These networks include academics from different disciplinary fields in Latin America, Europe and the United States, all working to develop the academic field of EIB. They also include the governments of European countries that are funneling resources through their diverse technical assistance agencies to support higher education opportunities for Indigenous peoples. From local and global perspectives alike, social movements and transnational intellectual networks have led to greater empowerment for Indigenous peoples. Collective action leads to expanded definitions of citizenship, and thus an education model that permits multiple national identities, encompassing a citizenship that is multilingual and multiethnic, even transnational in scope. As has occurred in other Latin American countries, such as Mexico (Cortina, 2011), the mobilization of Indigenous groups makes it possible to engage in a process of learning about democratic forms of participation and ways of establishing greater equality in social, economic and political life. The cases of Peru and Bolivia demonstrate the continuing efforts made by social movements and their transnational allies to obtain greater equality for Indigenous peoples. These cases also underscore the important role that education plays in incorporating the languages and cultural identities of Indigenous peoples into the quest to expand their citizenship.

Notes (1) During the research period, on January 1 2011, GTZ (Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit) merged with other German technical assistance agencies; the new agency is called GIZ (Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit). In order to avoid confusion, only GIZ is discussed in this chapter. (2) The author would like to acknowledge research and travel grants provided by the Institute of Latin American Studies at Columbia University in support of this project. (3) I am grateful to Constantin Schreiber, a graduate student at Penn State University, for helping me translate the final evaluation of PROEDUCA from German. (4) For additional information, see www.proeibandes.org. (5) For additional information, see http://fundacion.proeibandes.org. (6) For additional information, see www.saih.no/english. (7) For additional information, see http://www.fondo Indigena.org/.

References Abanto, A. (2011) Educación intercultural bilingüe en el Perú: Supervisión de la Defensoría del Pueblo. Tarea (February), 78, 17–20. See http://www.tarea.org.pe/. Baecker, R. (2008) Programm Grundbildung PROEDUCA. Frankfurt, Germany: Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit.

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Benavides, M., Mena, M. and Ponce, C. (2010) Estado de la niñez Indígena en el Perú. Lima, Peru: Instituto Nacional de Estadística e Informática (INEI) and Fondo de las Naciones Unidas para la Infancia (UNICEF). Bolivia Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas (2010) Estadísticas sociales y de educación. La Paz, Bolivia: Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas. See http://www.ine.gob.bo/. Charle, C., Schriewer, J. and Wagner, P. (eds) (2004) Transnational Intellectual Networks: Forms of Academic Knowledge and the Search for Cultural Identities. Frankfurt, Germany: Campus Verlag. Cortina, R. (2010) Empowering Indigenous languages and cultures: The impact of German bilateral assistance in Latin America. European Education: Issues and Studies 42 (3), 53–67. Cortina, R. (2011) Globalization, social movements, and education. Teachers College Record 113 (6), 1196–1213. Dietz, G. and Mateos Cortés, L.S. (2011) Interculturalidad y educación intercultural en México: Un análisis de los discursos nacionales e internacionales en su impacto en los mod­ elos educativos mexicanos. México D.F.: Secretaría de Educación Pública, Coordinacion General de Educación Intercultural y Bilingüe. García, M.E. (2005a) Rethinking bilingual education in Peru: Intercultural politics, state policy and indigenous rights. In A.M. de Mejía (ed.) Bilingual Education in South America (pp. 15–34). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters. García, M.E. (2005b) Making Indigenous Citizens: Identities Education and Multicultural Development in Peru. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Henriquez, N. (2012) Exclusión y etnicidad, temas y debates en torno a la educación superior. Paper presented in the Latinamerican Studies Association Congress in San Francisco, 2012. Unpublished manuscript. Hornberger, N.H. and Swinehart, K.F. (2012) Not just Situaciones de la vida: Professionalization and Indigenous languages revitalization in the Andes. International Multilin­ gual Research Journal 6 (1), 35–49. Leiva Galvez, M. (2012) Entrevista con Alejandro Toledo Manrique. El Comercio (June 17), p. 2a. López, L.E. and Rojas, C. (eds) (2006) La EIB en América Latina bajo exámen. La Paz, Bolivia: Banco Mundial-GIZ. Machaca, G. (2010) De la EIB hacia la EIIP. Logros, difícultades y desafíos de la educación intercultural y bilingüe en Bolivia en el marco del Estado plurinacional. Revista Guatemalteca de Educación 2, 71–118. Ministerio de Educación (2012a) Informe de resultados para autoridades y especialistas, Eval­ uación Censal de Estudiantes (ECE) 2011. Lima, Peru: Ministerio de Educación. See http://www2.minedu.gob.pe/umc/ece2011/Informes_ECE_2011/Informes_IGDs ECE2011/Para_el_Gobierno_Regional_(GR).pdf. Ministerio de Educación (2012b) Resúmen de resultados de la evaluación censal de estudiantes (ECE) 2011. Lima, Peru: Ministerio de Educación. See http://www2.minedu.gob.pe/ umc/ece2011/Informes_ECE_2011/Materiales_de_difusion/Encartes/27NacionalECE2011.pdf. Salazar, L. with Andrade, P. (2006) Guía para una formulación concertada del Proyecto Educa­ tivo Regional. Lima, Peru: PROEDUCA-GTZ.

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Sánchez Moreno, G. and Equipo de la Dirección Nacional de Formación y Capacitación Docente (2006) Construyendo una política de formación magisterial (1997–2006). Lima, Peru: GTZ-PROEDUCA. Trapnell, L.A. (2003) Some key issues in Intercultural Bilingual Education teacher training programmes – as seen from a teacher training programme in the Peruvian Amazon Basin. Comparative Education 39 (2), 165–183. World Bank (2008) Rural Education Project: In Support of the First Phase of the Rural Education Program (25 June). Washington, DC: Author. Zavala, V. and Córdova, G. (2003) Volver al desafío: Hacia una definición crítica de la educación intercultural biblingüe en Perú. Lima, Peru: Ministerio de Educación, PROEDUCA-GTZ.

3 Intercultural Bilingual Education in the Andes: Political Change, New Challenges and Future Directions Bret Gustafson Introduction Over the past 30 years, state education ministries in Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador have slowly been transformed to provide institutional space for the implementation of intercultural bilingual education or, in Spanish, Educación Intercultural Bilingüe (EIB). EIB is a pedagogical model used in public primary schools and teacher training programs in largely Indigenous schools across the Andean and Amazonian regions. Though actual practice varies widely, EIB proposes the incorporation of Indigenous languages and knowledge into schooling as content, as means of communication and conceptual core. EIB also proposes to provide quality education in Spanish while implementing national curricula. EIB advocates argue that improvements on existing approaches to Indigenous education are technical (pedagogy of quality, cultural relevance and efficacy), social (inclusion and opportunity of Indigenous peoples) and political (human rights and Indigenous rights). EIB is considered an alternative to the often violent, assimilationist curricular practice that has long characterized schooling in Latin America. It thus challenges the legacies of colonialism: systems of rule built on official racism, extractive economies and patriarchal logics of authoritarian rule. For this reason, deep and effective EIB implementation would entail more than new classroom practices; it would create dramatic changes in the ideology, form and practices of the state itself. For this reason, EIB is deeply political and has many opponents. Promotion of EIB relies on the combined efforts of Indigenous organizations, progressive civil society advocates and

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intellectual networks and the support of European foreign aid donors (see Chapter 2, this volume). The possibilities for EIB as a model of educational transformation – with its possible implications for deeper social and political change – are also conditioned by national political upheavals and shifting hegemonic visions of economic and social policy in the region. This chapter considers how recent regime changes – the election of Evo Morales in Bolivia (2006), Rafael Correa in Ecuador (2007 and 2012) and Ollanta Humala in Peru (2011) – set the stage for a new era of work and political mobilization in the arena of Indigenous education. These political shifts suggest a possible turn away from what has been called ‘neoliberal multiculturalism’ toward a reframing of state economic, social and cultural policies. Neoliberal multiculturalism refers to the paradoxical convergence of free-market extremism and the rise of ideas like interculturalidad (or interculturality), which entailed the official recognition of Indigenous peoples and calls for cultural dialogue, harmony and exchange. As compared with US and European discourses on multiculturalism, which focus on ideas like acceptance and tolerance, Latin American thinkers have argued that interculturality emphasizes recognition, exchange between cultures (hence the inter-) and aspirations for equality across cultural difference (Gustafson, 2009). However, in official usage, these distinctions are less clear, and scholars used the phrase ‘neoliberal multi­culturalism’ to refer to a more general convergence between free-market ideology and limited cultural recognition. Critics have argued that this culturalist turn, though seemingly progressive, was actually an elite attempt to legitimate free-market policies that spoke of cultural inclusion, even as they exacerbated poverty and inequality, exclusions structured on class, gender and race (Hale, 2002). Although I argue below that interculturality and EIB as put into practice by Indigenous organizations frequently challenged neoliberal ideology, for various reasons EIB advocates were able to maneuver through this opening to interculturality during the neoliberal era (roughly the 1980s–2000s). The new regimes – especially in Bolivia and Ecuador – have rejected the free-market orthodoxy in favor of reasserting national sovereignty, promoting state-led development and using the state, not just the market, to pursue more equitable redistribution of wealth. To more and less degree – and with many contradictions – they have extended or modified the ‘culturalist’ discourse on Indigenous rights with new ideas like plurinationalism, decolonization and intraculturalism – terms discussed further below. The following sections first describe the wider context of neoliberal multiculturalism in Latin America with particular attention to the politics of

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education. They then provide an overview of each country, briefly tracing historical paths, contemporary EIB advances and recent political transformations. Three observations are considered: (1) that EIB as a mechanism of social and political transformation is most successful when backed by robust Indigenous mobilization and external support; (2) that donor (mostly European) support has been crucial, but is now being resituated visà-vis new configurations of state education policy that depart, somewhat, from the neoliberal and technocratic school reforms of the past and (3) that politically EIB is neither merely a ‘technical’ intervention nor a ‘culturalist’ strategy of neoliberalism but, rather, a terrain of ongoing political struggle over the decolonization of the state. In the wake of the technocratic and business-oriented turn of neoliberal multiculturalism, the new regimes offer some new possibilities for EIB, but also reproduce old structures and discourses of exclusion. The chapter closes with observations on the need to reconnect EIB with deeper historical movements for change that push beyond the official culturalism of the recent past – whether labeled multiculturalism or interculturality – and confront new political challenges.

Neoliberalism, Education and EIB in the Andes Neoliberalism in the Andes – from the 1980s through the 2000s – was marked by attempts to restructure corporatist states into free-market economies, to privatize state industries, to undermine organized labor, to decentralize governance and to promote a broad cultural shift toward the language of individualism, marketization and competition. Paradoxically, this period also saw the official turn toward interculturality, an idea that called for more cultural dialogue between Indigenous and non-Indigenous citizens and that formally recognized – through the concept of pluriculturalism – that Andean nations were pluralist, rather than monocultural, societies (Van Cott, 2000). Interculturality thus echoed some components of Indigenous movement demands, in particular, that the state recognize Indigenous peoples (and their cultural and linguistic specificity) and their rights as both individual citizens and as Indigenous peoples – pueblos – collectivities with distinct histories, languages, territories and religions and the rights to maintain them. During the neoliberal period, interculturality also contributed to the opening of space for implementation of EIB. Yet the contradictions between free-market economic policies, which exacerbated poverty and inequality, and the inclusionary rhetoric of interculturality, were rife (Gustafson, 2009). For its part, interculturality in EIB – as voiced by Indigenous movements – spoke of significant transformations: dismantling racism, recovering

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Indigenous territory; opening space for Indigenous knowledge, jurisprudence and political organizations; rethinking regional and national economies; and addressing wider inequalities throughout society. Though sometimes tarred with the same brush as the unpopular neoliberal model, EIB was not merely a neoliberal tactic and, in fact, it significantly contradicted neoliberal ideologies. The clearest evidence for the difference was the deep resistance to EIB by the traditional political elite, especially when it became apparent that EIB held great democratizing potential. In addition, official approaches to interculturality – characterized by the spread of managerial, individualist business-oriented model of governance – were quite different from the grassroots visions and struggles that shaped EIB practices on the ground. Even so, EIB as a political field went beyond the relations between the state and Indigenous people to include other key protagonists, including national intellectuals (linguists, pedagogues, anthropologists and sociologists) who are EIB advocates and, since the 1980s, foreign donor agencies, most of them European. By the 1990s, EIB also found some support in the World Bank, and the Inter-American Development Bank sponsored education reform agendas in Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru. Here again, visions of EIB were strictly technical and economic. EIB came to be seen by these economists in a technical sense as a cost-effective measure that might impact Indigenous poverty and social exclusion while addressing the ‘problem’ of Indigenous multilingualism (Soares et al., 2005). This differed significantly from Indigenous organizations who viewed EIB as a tool for self-determination, decolonization and profound change of educational and political systems. The education reforms launched in all of these countries did allow some space to EIB. However, they were structural adjustments, not efforts at decolonization, and as such were more defined by the attempt to import American-style prescriptions: decentralization, testing, teacher evaluation, various forms of privatization and marketization of schooling, a focus on ‘human capital’ rather than on social transformation and an antiteacher, antiunion bias. Here again, EIB found new enemies and challenges – particularly among teachers unions. Teachers unions, not without reason, saw the opening to interculturality and EIB as a Trojan horse meant to weaken them by separating issues of cultural exclusion of Indigenous peoples from wider national issues of class inequality and the attacks on the welfare state, affecting the largely poor majority of all citizens. While Indigenous organizations and teachers unions in these three countries would periodically form strategic alliances, this tension marked a wider suspicion of EIB from the left, given its perceived proximity to the neoliberal onslaught. Despite these political paradoxes, during these years EIB played out as a strategy much more complex – but often much less dramatic – than either a

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neoliberal tactic, technocratic reform, or utopian vision of change. In some places, EIB led to significant shifts in policy and public discourse – revealing institutionalized racism, generating new curricular practices and advancing a longer historical agenda aimed at Indigenous linguistic, cultural and epistemic rights, that is, rights to self-determination. These changes cannot be read merely as cynical tactics of free-market elites (see Chapter 1, this volume) for, as is described further below, at regional and local levels, EIB also served as a platform for a multitude of Indigenous social and political struggles, all of which transcend the space of textbooks and classrooms and official views of interculturality. More broadly, EIB efforts over the past decades are now transcending the arena of Indigenous education to set the stage for a wider national rethinking of education and of the nation and state. It is in this space of potentiality and possibility that the current political upheavals in the Andes are unfolding. The curious paradox – between intercultural opening and draconian attacks on social welfare – provides the immediate point of contrast for considering EIB in the context of recent regime changes. Dramatic popular opposition of various sorts led to the erosion of traditional elite parties and the rise of new movements and leaders – Morales in Bolivia, Correa in Ecuador and Humala in Peru. Each of these presidents was elected on a platform that promised a turn away from neoliberalism toward new and inclusionary societies built with the active role of the state. With support from teachers unions and Indigenous organizations, all three leaders also expressed commitments to public education and to Indigenous rights and the ideas of interculturality, as well as to new ideas like decolonization (in Bolivia) and plurinationalism (Bolivia and Ecuador). Decolonization, for instance, goes beyond multiculturalism to weave together a critique of interlocking inequalities of race, gender and class, often also questioning the very western bases of knowledge at the heart of the liberal state. Plurinationalism also goes beyond multi- and interculturalism, suggesting that Indigenous peoples do not merely have rights to cultural recognition, but rights to self-determination within the nation – as collective ‘nationalities’ within a plurinational state (Gustafson & Fabricant, 2011). Yet deeply rooted structures and logics of rule are not as easily transformed as these shifts in official discourse might suggest. How has EIB fared in this new political scenario?

Bolivia The modern politics of Indigenous education in Bolivia can be traced back to early 20th century Indigenous-led movements aimed at securing

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access to literacy and schooling that emerged in the Andean region near La Paz. Indigenous Aymara struggles for land, literacy and legal rights led to the creation of the first Indigenous (primarily Aymara) teacher training school at Warisata in 1931 (Choque Canqui, 1992). Elsewhere across the country, other histories would unfold through the 20th century, as Indigenous peoples grappled with state policies that vacillated between active exclusion to violent assimilation in the classroom. As elsewhere, the State also delegated Indigenous schooling to non-State actors, especially Catholic religious orders and Protestant missionaries who experimented with various forms of bilingual education and proselytization. In this sense, and despite some exceptions, Bolivia shares much with other Latin American countries, where Indigenous peoples were seen as a problem and education its solution. With the rise of Indigenous movements and demands for linguistic and epistemic pluralism in the 1970s and 1980s, Bolivia also joined its neighbors as a key context for what Xavier Albó (1991) famously referred to as the ‘return of the Indian’. Indigenous movements and organizations themselves began to demand and take direct and protagonistic roles in debating the ‘why, how and what for’ of public education. At the same time, the region was hit with the neoliberal wave. It was in this context that in the 1990s Bolivia became a laboratory (as did Peru and Ecuador) for economic and policy reforms backed by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. Bolivia, again, following a trend of the era, was a standard bearer of official interculturality – in part responding to Indigenous demands, and in part reflecting a tactical opening on the part of neoliberal reformers. The rise of official interculturality created a space for a complex hybrid of EIB projects backed initially by UNICEF. From its roots as an Indigenous and UNICEF-backed experimental project in the late 1980s, EIB thus began to take shape as state policy in the 1990s, expanding into the Aymara, Quechua and Guarani regions with official support and increased donor aid. These projects subsequently transformed into state policy with the Education Reform Law of 1994 and had significant Indigenous support. With some cajoling and lobbying by EIB advocates, the World Bank and the Inter-American Development Bank also officially backed EIB within the context of the standardizing model of school reform they were helping to finance. With some reticence, leading political figures of the time also acquiesced to EIB, despite significant opposition and wariness. Thus, intercultural bilingual education merged in an unwieldy way with a school reform that opponents – especially the teachers unions – would associate with wider neoliberal projects (Gustafson, 2009; López, 2005). At the grassroots level, the significance of EIB has varied, even as its impact was limited by technical challenges (lack of trained teachers,

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textbooks, institutionalized curricular practices, parent skepticism and the deep colonial foundations of Bolivian schooling). In the case of the Bolivian Guarani, EIB introduced a series of critiques – of racism, colonial knowledge production, inequality and land dispossession – into the daily practice of schooling, public discourse and curricular design. EIB was also associated with the rise of Guarani women into leadership positions. It helped break the traditional grip on power held by feudal landowners and contributed to the democratization of the public sphere across the Bolivian southeast. Nationally, and despite criticism of the overall reform’s ‘neoliberal’ cast, a number of significant and progressive transformations were made to curriculum, educational governance and teacher training. These included, for example, a less authoritarian teaching and learning style, the introduction of constructivist pedagogical theory instead of rote memorization, the incorporation of Indigenous languages and Indigenous-written histories into schoolbooks and into the curriculum of teacher-training institutes and some limited openings to Indigenous organization in school governance, through entities called CEPOS (Consejos Educativos de los Pueblos Originarios, Educational Councils of the Originary Peoples).1 By the early 2000s, popular opposition to the neoliberal regimes had accelerated, as had elite attempts to restrict, blockade and dismantle intercultural bilingual education. EIB had come to be seen not as an intercultural panacea but as a democratizing threat, especially since it led to critiques of the racially exclusionary impacts of neoliberal reform. Popular opposition to the free-market regime eventually led to the Gas War of 2003, which demanded the nationalization of Bolivia’s natural gas industry, and the election of the Indigenous coca-growers’ leader Evo Morales in 2006. Morales and the Movement to Socialism (MAS) party relied on the support of Indigenous organizations and the teachers unions alongside a myriad other sectors of society. MAS came to power with proclamations for Indigenous rights, a new plurinationalist state and decolonization – all ideas that echoed with EIB. Nonetheless, and against expectations, MAS’ post-victory support for EIB has been tepid. New discourses of decolonization and plurinationalism did suggest something more radical than interculturality, as they promised to dismantle colonial racism, patriarchy and economies founded on inequality (Gustafson & Fabricant, 2011). The government also passed a new education law maintaining support for bilingual education, now reconceived as ‘intracultural, intercultural and plurilingual’ (educación intracultural, intercul­ tural y plurilingüe) rendering EIB into EIIP. Now conceived not as Indigenous education but as education for all citizens, EIIP proposes teaching in Spanish, Indigenous languages and English. The component of interculturality

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maintains its meanings of cross-cultural exchange, recognition and relationships. The new idea of intraculturalidad – promoted by Indigenous intellectuals – argues for a more explicit effort at using education to valorize one’s own culture, rather than focusing only on the ‘bridging’ of cultures implied by interculturality. As a program aimed at all Bolivians, EIIP also seeks to redress the critique that EIB continued to see Indigenous peoples as a problem to be remedied by special education, rather than attacking the wider relationship of colonialism rooted in the dominant society. The new laws – and these new ideas – are promising. However, EIB, now labeled EIIP, confronts older ideological and practical challenges to implementation on the ground and the new political priorities of the regime – expanding the state-led extractive economy – have overshadowed efforts in educational change. In practical terms, as with EIB during the neoliberal reform era, EIIP implementation is complex, ongoing, uneven and far from solidified. In the Guarani region, EIB/EIIP practice still relies heavily on NGO support for the production of materials, although teacher-training institutes, institutes of Indigenous language and culture and an Indigenous technical university exist in all major linguistic regions of the country. Resources for teacher support and the building of public participation in EIIP remain scarce. Ideologically, discourses like decolonization – and its implications for recognizing Indigenous epistemologies in dialogue with Western science and technology – are not universally accepted within the government. Many state functionaries still see EIB (or EIIP) as divisive, antimodernist romanticism. Other progressive activists are also trying to transcend the ‘culturalist’ focus on culture and language to highlight racism, and attendant issues of class and gender, as core categories of analysis. Decolonization and all of its possible meanings have nonetheless become a productive arena of public debate. In political terms, EIIP is most complicated by the underlying contradictions between decolonizing discourse and the intensification of economies built on natural resource extraction. Defying assumptions that Evo Morales would actively promote Indigenous rights, the MAS party, much like the neoliberal regimes that preceded it, has been ambiguous. Indigenous peoples are directly impacted by natural resource extraction and the ongoing and unsettled issue of territorial rights. Marches, blockades and protests tied to territory and natural resources often overshadow education questions for both the State and the Indigenous movements. And, as in the past, the divisions often created within Indigenous organizations are exacerbated by these resource conflicts, undermining efforts to generate broad-based support for EIB/EIIP initiatives. Finally, on the ground, the ongoing poverty of daily life often means that local communities are reticent to expend resources

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fighting for EIB/EIIP, a proposal whose lofty goals are often removed from their immediate struggle for land or other forms of stable subsistence. These are all challenges to EIB/EIIP that differ little from the immediate past. Yet, change is slowly unfolding. The new law, passed in 2010, maintains some positive changes from the 1994 Education Reform Law. For instance, there is a focus on constructivist teaching, a concern for the interweaving of issues of gender, democracy and environment into schooling and, more generally, the updating of the nation’s educational information systems and procedures, all transformations launched in 1994. By the same token, many progressive intellectuals, leaders and NGO activists are now working within the Education Ministry, which is adding its own novelties, including a focus on ‘socio-communitarian’ education. This idea, seen as a counter to the individualism and competition enshrined in neoliberal schooling discourse, argues that education should focus on values of solidarity, collective production and social reciprocity and well-being. In the new Indigenous universities, there is an attempt to combine technical training with issues of multilingualism, epistemic difference and local Indigenous particularities. As voiced in one of many descriptions of the new education, it is one that builds on a ‘new vision of revolutionary, productive, communitarian and decolonizing’ education (Ministerio de Educacíon (MINEDU), 2012). Compared with even the recent past of the 1980s, schooling of, by, and for Indigenous peoples in Bolivia has undergone a dramatic, if unfinished transformation, one now encouraged by these official openings to decolonization and the wider national struggle against racism and inequality. However, transformations, seen nationally, are still uneven and there is greater need than ever for reorganizing efforts to deepen and expand EIB. Paradoxically, even in the era of an Indigenous president, in many schools things appear much as they did before and Indigenous languages are still losing ground to Spanish.

Ecuador EIB in Ecuador has an equally storied history, with roots in early 20th century Indigenous struggles for land and citizenship rights. In Ecuador, the often memorialized socialist Indigenous leader Dolores Cacuango led the movement to create Indigenous schools in the 1940s. This struggle, offering lessons for today, allied movements tied to Indigenous labor and land rights with broader national organizations pursuing the transformation of an unequal society and economy (Becker, 2008: 95–97; Conejo Arellano, 2008; Yánez Cossío, 1996). As detailed by Marc Becker (2008), this early

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manifestation of Indigenous mobilization – and Indigenous-led education processes – was neither separatist nor culturalist in the sense that these words are used today. Though rooted in native languages and cultural forms, this early education agenda was also deeply articulated with national political processes and visions and, in particular, with urban progressive parties. Cacuango’s legacy of interculturality – was one of both intercultural dialogue and political–economic transformation aimed at national racial and economic equality. These early Indigenous efforts in the Ecuadoran Andes were truncated by the military dictatorships of the 1960s. As in other Indigenous regions of Latin America, this period saw a turn away from the progressive fusion of native education with broader social struggles, and a turn toward interventions like the politically conservative Westernizing and assimilationist efforts of the Summer Institute of Linguistics. Other localized interventions, as detailed by Conejo Arellano (2008), included more and less progressive efforts, most spearheaded by agents of Catholicism or university-based intellectuals – the Misión Andina in Chimborazo, the Shuar radio project in the Amazon and others (Yánez Cossío, 1996). Some of these projects, particularly that of the Shuar, would revive the tradition of education as political mobilization, and served as platforms for what would eventually become the roots of Ecuador’s contemporary Indigenous movements. By the 1980s, international donors, in particular the German GTZ, initiated work in Ecuador. As in Bolivia, European support for Indigenous cultural rights – backed by a strong Indigenous organization – was able to create space within the central government. In fact, Ecuador, as compared with Bolivia and Peru, was the first to institutionalize EIB as part of the official state structure, marked by the creation of the National Directorate of Bilingual Intercultural Education (Dirección Nacional de Educación Intercultural Bilingüe (DINEIB)) in 1988 (Abram, 2004; Zavala, 2007: 113).2 DINEIB was a particularly Ecuadoran approach that created a kind of parallel mini-ministry of education within the wider Ecuadoran state structure. Indigenous organizations had a direct say in the administration of the DINEIB nationally and locally, a remarkable, almost autonomous space for self-determination within the state. DINEIB created a space of relative power, leverage and access to public resources for Indigenous leaders. It was also a crucial space of knowledge production, creating a mass of materials over the years in all native languages. Yet DINEIB also threatened the creation of a kind of second-class school system for native peoples, distinct from that of those identified as Hispanos (Spanish speakers). Marginalized, underfunded, ignored and attacked, as such DINEIB could be seen as a minoritizing setback. This means that what ostensibly

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offered limited Indigenous self-determination could also have a minoritizing effect, containing Indigenous language, knowledge and schooling in a kind of territorial and institutional ghetto divorced from national society. It may also have served, as some observers suggest, to isolate educational issues from wider concerns such as land and natural resource politics (Garcés, 2006; Moya, 2005, cited in Zavala, 2007). Conejo Arellano (2008), an ex-director of DINEIB, described continuous attacks on DINEIB from other actors in the state and complained that influential non-Indigenous sectors of society had little or no understanding or knowledge about EIB. Furthermore, the organic relationship between the movements and DINEIB began to weaken, with the conversion of DINEIB into a kind of jobs program for Indigenous leaders (Conejo Arellano, 2008). Still, as Ricardo Ulcuango, the leader of the La Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas del Ecuador (Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador (CONAIE)) noted, DINEIB was a crucial space through which Indigenous leaders and organizations gained critical knowledge and experience in governance and a semblance of autonomy in shaping the education of Indigenous citizens (Harnecker, 2011). The election of left-leaning nationalist Rafael Correa in Ecuador (2007) brought major changes. Initially supportive of Correa’s agenda for plurinationalism, CONAIE soon became a thorn in the government’s side, resisting the expansion of extractive industries (mining and oil) and decrying legislation that threatened to privatize water. Mobilizations called into question Correa’s commitment to Indigenous peoples and the environment. This newly tendentious relationship between CONAIE and the Correa regime on issues of nature and land were further charged by shifts in the education sector. With echoes of neoliberal technocratism, Correa’s government moved to implement new evaluation procedures for teachers (seen as an attack on the power of the teachers union) and promoted a new law of intercultural education. To reconcentrate power in the executive – and away from CONAIE – the semi-autonomous DINEIB was slated for full absorption into the Ministry of Education. Correa positioned himself – as did his conservative predecessors – as confronted with recalcitrant, illegitimate Indigenous and teacher opposition. The government also moved to criminalize Indigenous protest with the rhetoric of ‘terrorism’. At the height of struggles over water privatization in late 2009, Indigenous organizations also denounced the dismantling of the DINEIB. They did so in alliance with the teachers union (Unión Nacional de Educadores (UNE)), then protesting the new evaluation measures. During a clash between protestors and police, Bosco Wizum, a Shuar bilingual teacher, was shot dead, a killing (culpability for which is disputed) finally forcing the government to open space for dialogue (Cornejo Luque, 2009; Hoy, 2009).

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The government would ultimately prevail with the passage of a new Law of Intercultural Education in 2011 (El Ciudadano, 2011). The law reads much like many modernizing policy reforms, calling for the improvement of quality, efficiency and science and technology education. Though the law invokes interculturality and guarantees rights to native language schooling, the erasure of bilingualism as a potential characteristic of all education is significant. Likewise, the embrace of interculturality appears to follow a folkloric turn, neither the managerial template mobilized by neoliberalism nor the more radical call for rethinking the dominant paradigm of Western civilization. It sounds more like old-style nationalism. For example, the cultural objectives of the new education system are to reinforce the ‘tangible and intangible cultural patrimony’ of the country in order to reinforce national identity (Ministerio de Educación-Ecuador, 2012). In other realms, Isch López (2012) notes that the neoliberal ideologies that penetrated educational discourse and administrative rhetoric in the 1990s continue to date. This is evidenced in the new law’s proposal for the deconcentration of educational governance, which echoes the neoliberal promotion of decentralization. Such a deconcentration effort relocalizes EIB processes with the creation of sub-district level administrative structures called circuits (circuitos), including provincial bilingual intercultural educational circuits, where Indigenous organizations would have some role in shaping educational process. While decentralization – or deconcentration – is said to be more efficient and more responsive to local realities, it also threatens to further segment inequalities, as it detaches school struggles from national struggles, weakens national teacher and Indigenous unity on education and delegates fiscal and administrative responsibilities to lower levels of the state. As will be noted below for Peru, decentralization also brings the risk that Indigenous education agendas will confront new regional opposition, if not backed by a centralized authority such as CONAIE, by way of DINEIB, working from the national level. As noted by DINEIB’s founding director, Luis Montaluisa (2011), the new Law of Intercultural Education might thus be read as a recolonization of Indigenous schooling that reverses many decades of struggle (see also CONAIE, 2010; Montaluisa, 2009, 2011). We thus see in Ecuador ’s current dynamic an institutional and policy dilemma confronted by Indigenous peoples in Latin America: between rights to equality as citizens and rights to difference and self-­determination as native peoples. Future research should explore the impacts of the new education law on Indigenous education processes and political articulations on the ground. Will this new configuration weaken the role of CONAIE as a national political actor? Does it further marginalize EIB – removing it from national consciousness and a wider national agenda

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for decolonizing change? Or, does the national embrace of interculturality suggest a turn away from neoliberal multiculturalism and toward an effective model of dialogic educational governance between the state and Indigenous peoples?

Peru Historically, Peru has been an intellectual anchor for EIB in Latin America, even though EIB as a national project has not made institutional or discursive advances such as those in Bolivia and Ecuador. In the Andes, Peru was the center of early 20th-century Indigenist thought that eventually gave rise to contemporary advocacy and scholarship on EIB. Populist governments as early as the 1920s (and later in the 1970s) moved to use Quechua for official functions, though initiatives such as this were reversed by conservative regimes that followed. In more localized cases, Peru has been the site of a number of vanguard experimental Indigenous education projects and a base for networks of intellectuals and advocates of EIB. Projects include early German-funded EIB projects and university-training programs in Puno, Peru, that later contributed – directly and indirectly – to the Project on Bilingual Intercultural Education in Bolivia (see Chapter 2, this volume). Likewise, the bilingual teacher-training institute in Iquitos, the Amazonian region of northern Peru, now called El Programa de Formación de Maestros Bilingües de la Amazonía Peruana (The Training Program for Bilingual Teachers of the Peruvian Amazon (FORMABIAP)), has been a reference point for Indigenous teacher training programs throughout the region. Nonetheless, as discussed by García (2005) and numerous other observers of Peru, EIB has had little success expanding across the Quechua- and Aymara-speaking Andes of central and southern Peru.3 Likewise, Indigenous movements in Peru have been weak – limited primarily to the Amazon region – and virtually nonexistent as national political actors across the Andes. Indigenist activism was – and to a great extent remains – dominated by urban intellectuals. State reforms during the post-World War II era that sparked Indigenous organizing elsewhere yielded only the institutionalization of a ruralizing, corporatist legal structure for Indigenous peoples in the Andes – as comunidades campesinas or peasant communities. Finally, the Shining Path insurgency and state counterinsurgency terror from the 1970s through the 1990s cast a shroud over rural and Indigenous movements. Both the guerrillas and the state targeted rural Indigenous peoples – whether as uncommitted revolutionaries or de facto subversives – generating widespread political violence that was rooted in, and intensified, anti-Indigenous

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racism. Among many ongoing legacies of the violence, out migration, community fragmentation and fear all work against new organizing efforts crucial to supporting initiatives like EIB. At the state level, an authoritarian anti-Indigenous racism remains central – both explicitly and implicitly – in the logics of governance and rule. Despite these challenges, in the 1980s and 1990s, Peru followed the wider regional turn toward interculturality. Peru also created a Directorate of EIB, formerly called DIGEBIL, then DINEBI, now DIGEIBIR, that dates to 1987 (Defensoría del Pueblo, 2011: 77–80). This alphabet soup of acronyms reveals the twists and turns of state policy approaches. DIGEBIL was the directorate of educación bilingüe during a more assimilationist period. The shift to DINEBI, which added an ‘I’ for intercultural, marked a move toward more recognition, dialogue, and exchange. Later, the order of ‘I’ and ‘B’ would shift, marking a debate between those who prefer to emphasize inter­cultural dialogue over linguistic difference (won by the former). Finally, and most recently, the ‘R’ reflects an institutional suture between EIB and ‘rural’ education. From a gradual move toward EIB, this latest turn suggests that some state elites continue to conceptualize Indigenous education from a rural perspective – a division (urban–rural) inherited from the colonial past that is now rooted in institutional organization of the state. A national policy of EIB was incorporated into a World Bank sponsored education reform launched in 1992, with renewed policy support for EIB in 2002. Yet, these national offices have had little will or ability to implement EIB in a profound way. Outside of FORMABIAP’s recognized successes in the Amazon, International organizations like the GTZ made some strides in expanding support for training bilingual teachers in the Andean region (Cortina, Chapter 2, this volume; Zavala & Córdova, 2003). Yet EIB relies on sustained grassroots efforts, social movements, and civil society support, something which is largely absent – and actively excluded – in Peru. Indigenous organizations are relatively weak. But there is an organization of bilingual teachers: Asociación Nacional de Maestros de Educación Bilingüe Intercultural (National Association of Teachers of Bilingual Intercultural Education (ANAMEBI)). Emergent Indigenous organizations are slowly articulating a new politics linking education, decolonization and the defense of nature and the rights of rural and Indigenous peoples, yet current conflicts are largely dominated by struggles over mining. From the State side, conservative elites alternate between tepidly supporting EIB or attacking it, depending on shifting political winds. As Sigfredo Chiroque and Alfredo Rodríguez have observed (2008: 19), EIB programs have been allowed to exist as long as they did not affect the ‘hard nucleus’ of labor relations and the appropriation of surplus by private interests. As

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discussed by Cortina (Chapter 2, this volume), regime shifts abruptly shut down innovative experiments supported by foreign donors. In another example, FORMABIAP, the exemplary teacher-training institute described above, was initially embraced under the neoliberal multiculturalism of the Fujimori regime, when it attracted donor support from the equally conservative Spanish government (under the then Prime Minister José María Aznar (1996–2004)). Yet when the training of Amazonian teachers helped strengthen the Indigenous organization, the Asociación Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva Peruana (The Interethnic Association for the Development of the Peruvian Rainforest (AIDESEP)), to become a nucleus of opposition to the recent government’s oil development policies in the region, EIB and Indigenous organizations came to be seen as obstacles to the State. Even as the State spoke at times of interculturality, these conflicts led to the bloody violence at Bagua in 2009 (Chiroque, 2010a, 2010b; Chiroque & Rodríguez, 2008; Gustafson, 2011). Confirming Chiroque’s thesis, EIB and Indigenous resurgence were now perceived as direct threats to the expansion of oil capital being unleashed on the Amazon region. A simplistic interpretation of EIB as a program rooted in neoliberal cultural strategy fails to understand these political articulations. The combination of racism, authoritarianism and brute political calculation yields what López (Chapter 1, this volume) refers to the ‘top-down’ form of EIB implementation in Peru, as compared with a more dialogic, if sometimes conflictive, relationship between the state and social movements in Ecuador and Bolivia. State support for implementation is thus limited and nonstate EIB projects are often top-down localized interventions backed by NGOs or missionary agents, with little organic linkage to grassroots movements and little support from the state apparatus (Abram, 2004; Chirinos Rivera & Zegarra Leyva, 2004; García, 2005; Trapnell, 2003). Rodrigo Montoya (2002, cited in Zavala & Cordova, 2003) highlights the obstacle as one of ‘structural hypocrisy’. That is, Peru’s rhetoric of interculturality rings hollow within a particular structure, language and logic of the Peruvian state that undermines any attempt – discursive or institutional – to actually support and implement EIB. As with Correa in Ecuador and Morales in Bolivia, Ollanta Humala’s election in Peru (2011) opened up expectations for a State turn toward more progressive pro-poor and pro-Indigenous policies. At this writing, DIGEIBIR is publishing new policy documents (DIGEIBIR, 2012). International organizations, primarily UNICEF, continue to collaborate with EIB advocacy. The Defensoría del Pueblo (Public Defender), a public nongovernmental oversight entity, has also published an exhaustive analysis of EIB’s crisis, with calls for

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the state to renew its commitment to EIB as a fundamental issue of human rights. These actions suggest that despite the limitations, there is still a solid network of EIB advocates who have been able to establish themselves in state and nonstate institutions (Defensoría del Pueblo, 2011). Whether and how these actors and institutions are able to transform the state and engage civil society and Indigenous social movement organizations remains to be seen. As in Ecuador, the technocratic elite does not change as rapidly as presidents. This means that EIB advocates, like current DIGEIBIR director Elena Burga, whose long-time work in support of EIB is well regarded, must grapple with ideas and proposals inherited from a more business-minded elite, often far removed from the visions of EIB. For example, Peru is now promoting a campaign for school quality that is called Escuelas Marca Peru (Peru Brand Schools) (Burga, 2012). Building on a national marketing campaign also referred to as Marca Peru (touting all that Peru has to offer for sale including surfing, cuisine, music, native culture and tropical sexuality) the slogan promotes a business-minded commodification of schooling as a product to be consumed, something only valid if it is of export quality. EIB schools can now aspire to become Peru Brand Schools. Such visions are troubling, in my view because of the ways that education is transformed into a product to be bought and sold, rather than a deeply social and political process of human transformation with an eye toward the constitution of a more equal society. These are also constraints because by extension, Indigenous languages and cultural motifs are merely folklorized and commodified, while being subjected to measurements of value that respond to the needs and logics of capital accumulation, rather than Indigenous self-determination. Can ideas like ‘Peru Brand Schools’ converge with a more socially progressive view of EIB as critical and transformative interculturality for all Peru, the expressed policy vision of the new DIGEIBIR (2012)? The structural hypocrisy of a state founded on colonial models of law, race and extractive industries persists. As with Correa and Morales, Humala’s government in a few short months has also frustrated many with the continued aggressive support for mining and oil activities, the denial of rights to consultation and the labeling of protest as criminal or conspiratorial. This means that, as in Ecuador, we see the state on the one hand exercising violent and coercive power to enforce economic policies, while, on the other, offering openings, however limited, to discussions on improving bilingual intercultural education. The resolution of this contradiction, or structural hypocrisy, remains on the agenda for Indigenous peoples, social movements and EIB advocates.

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Conclusions Across these three countries – Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru – we see key similarities and important differences in the relative positioning of three key nodes of EIB politics: Indigenous peoples, the State and foreign donors. As oft-repeated by long-time advocate and scholar Luís Enrique López (see Chapter 1, this volume), the key to EIB transformation is organized Indigenous participation, at the regional and national levels, in the development and subsequent success of EIB processes. State legislation and official recognition of linguistic and cultural pluralism are necessary steps, but they may be reduced to top-down managerialism or mere political expediency if not subject to the constant mobilization of Indigenous organizations to pursue meaningful implementation on the ground. Where such mobilization is national, as in Bolivia and Ecuador, there are clearer possibilities for Indigenous participation in education policy making. In Peru, where Indigenous organizations are strong only in the Amazonian region, with a deeply exclusionary logic characterizing the core of power around Lima, work for centralized State transformation is more difficult. Foreign donor support has been crucial at the level of the State, where it shapes official policy discourse and supports key intellectual actors and projects; and at the level of Indigenous regions, where it supports technical training, materials development and the mobilization of Indigenous intellectuals and leaders. Foreign donors have also helped create transregional and transnational networks connecting Indigenous and non-Indigenous EIB proponents who are able to move across countries and sites to share ideas and support. In hindsight, building these transregional networks – specifically, the human and intellectual foundation on which institutional changes at various levels might be realized – has likely been the clearest effect of much of the foreign donor aid spent in the Andes over the past decades (see Chapter 2, this volume, on the case of PROEIB-Andes). Yet foreign aid also had its limits. Donor interventions in the 1990s were characterized in part by the large-scale top-down approach that aimed to radically restructure entire educational systems, the ‘structural adjustment’ approach pushed by the World Bank. In some ways, EIB was a marginal beneficiary in this context, yet its survival was predicated on its depoliticization. This led to its reframing as a technical and cost-effective policy rather than an agenda for social transformation. Such tactical silences are understandable, but also lead to risks that EIB’s deeper affinities with social liberation and popular education would be erased. The return of nationalist, State-led development efforts, the ongoing significance of Indigenous movements in Bolivia and Ecuador and the slow rise of Indigenous and other

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social movements in Peru suggest that donors are also reconfiguring strategies. Some may return to more localized or regional modes of intervention while others may collaborate in the creation of policy agendas at the national level. Regional projects such as UNICEF’s support for Amazonian EIB in Bolivia and Ecuador are examples of the former, while UNICEF’s support for key analytical works, such as that published by the Defensoría del Pueblo (2011) in Peru, exemplify the latter strategy. Though politically sensitive, regional projects, especially in moments of conflict like the present, have more durable impacts to the extent that such outside assistance is not merely aimed at technical interventions, but works to strengthen Indigenous civil society organizations from below and to institutionalize change within State structures and practices. In terms of the State – and the myriad scales of political complexity that set the stage for EIB – we see in this chapter that EIB unfolds as a possibility, a terrain of struggle, in different forms and across multiple scales. For the moment, the emergence of new political regimes in the Andean countries appears to maintain openings for Indigenous education. However, in all three countries discussed above wider conflicts over resource extraction and Indigenous rights threaten to undermine possibilities for EIB, often seen as a lesser priority for both States and movements. Furthermore, although the neoliberal era of sweeping State intercultural reforms may have ended, dominant discourses on education remain characterized by an emphasis on standardizing (and Westernizing) models of testing, science and technology, global competition and the making of human capital. Though multiculturalism has given way to a more progressive notion of decolonization in Bolivia, its implementation remains restrictive in its official Ecuadoran usage and virtually nonexistent in Peru’s vision of the commodification and export of virtually anything and everything. A recent review of EIB in the three countries concluded that one challenge for EIB was to make itself more nationally ‘visible’ and thus more relevant to national policy discussions (Zavala, 2007). It might also be suggested that the challenges to EIB are, of course, deeply political and thus require more active and explicit articulation of the technical questions of pedagogy with the politics of race, class and patriarchy that multiculturalism sometimes glosses over. Where EIB has had significant political impacts outside of the classroom it has been largely because of local Indigenous efforts and the work of long-term, on-the-ground collaborators whose work on education is characterized by explicit articulations between schooling and political struggles against colonial legacies.4 This experience suggests that Indigenous education be understood not merely as a technical solution but as a democratizing vehicle for change itself, at all scales.

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It is often the case that State functionaries, technical experts and well-intentioned outsiders are unwilling to embrace (or tactically silence) the broader political implications of EIB. Political authorities, at least until recently, have approached EIB through calculations of political expediency rather than deeply held commitments of any kind. This strategy suggests that States, experts and Indigenous peoples operate on different temporal, political and conceptual scales. Such different views often lead to collisions between, say, a short-term externally-financed project; a regionally situated Indigenous struggle that combines education issues with land, resources and regional political power; and a temporal and calculated State regime that makes decisions based on one or another potential impact on regime strength. The dependence of EIB on donor support and capricious state regimes means that its advocates often limit their public scholarship to the technical or economic benefits of the proposal (in order to secure political support or funding or to speak only from a particular area of academic expertise), even though Indigenous organizations have long worked to explicitly articulate EIB with wider national and popular political struggles. Clarifying EIB as much more than an Indigenous education project but rather as part of a wider commitment to public education, in alliance with a broader opposition to the racializing and marginalizing effects of the neoliberal model, and in tune with Indigenous organizations’ critiques of the environmental and social impacts of unfettered extractivism, may be a necessary step as EIB moves into the new era. Another challenge and space for future research, advocacy and reflection on EIB involves reconsideration and perhaps a complementation of language and culture as key analytical categories. EIB emerged from a prior history of Indigenism and missionization, was reconfigured and reappropriated by intellectuals and Indigenous organizations as a political instrument for social change, was taken up with great reticence (and ultimately abandoned) by neoliberal regimes as a marginal component of multicultural management and is now being repositioned once again as a space of engagement between Indigenous organizations, national societies and the return of developmentalist and nationalist state regimes. EIB also emerged in a historical moment where indigeneity – and notions like culture and language – were seen as relatively straightforward realities. ‘Culture’ and ‘language’ were seen as tied to a given people in a given territory (much like the Western notion of the ‘nation’) and amenable to formal interventions through pedagogies that sought to operationalize these differences in schooling practice. In some ways these viewpoints, implicitly or not, relied on a ‘minoritizing’ model, perhaps the one most politically feasible in authoritarian, anti-Indigenous political contexts.5 This old minority model saw in Indigenous languages

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and cultures closed systems – and, for some, closed territories – wherein EIB would offer an assimilationist exit or a survivalist defense. However, against the antiquated, if still politically strategic use of the term culture, Indigenous epistemologies – and language practices – are today more accurately characterized as articulated knowledge networks that operate through social relations and practices at multiple scales (Gustafson, 2004). They are neither static, territorial, or closed. Indigenous knowledge networks are at once deeply national and dialogic as well as unique, local and epistemologically distinct. EIB is also now being rethought in the context of political and demographic change. Such changes include regional urbanization and widespread Indigenous migration from rural areas to the cities, environmental crises and conflicts over resources that impact rural territories and urban centers, intensification of racialized class inequalities in urban peripheries and the generalization of gendered racist discourses of exclusion. Indigeneity is now as urban as it is rural. Issues like resource extraction and the distribution of public goods impact all citizens – although Indigenous territories are often front and center in these conflicts. Indigenous peoples share with non-­Indigenous peoples’ lives shaped by the internet, hip-hop, informal labor, resource scarcity, informal economies, the politics of the urban street and rural–urban networks. Indigenous and other youth often live in intimate proximity and amid complex epistemic exchanges, as much defined by inter-racial alliance or tension as by assumptions of epistemic (or cultural, or linguistic) difference. This means that while EIB has traditionally relied on conventional notions of Indigenous language, culture and knowledge, these categories must be renovated in a way that critically engages – and decolonizes – the old language-culture-territory framework to articulate with transregional and national issues of patriarchy, racism, and inequality. Indigenous organizations often make these linkages in practice, EIB scholars and advocates sometimes follow, but constraints still remain (cf. Trapnell, 2003). This way of thinking explicitly about Indigenous education as necessarily articulated with broader questions of economic and environmental violences alongside of raced and gendered inequalities – rather than only concerns about language and culture – echoes recent statements by feminist thinkers working in the development arena. One might easily substitute Indigenous educational inequality for gender inequality in what follows: [G]ender inequality has to be situated within the context of other forms of inequality, and…efforts to promote gender equality should not be divorced from efforts to promote a more equal world for all. It is not enough to call for the participation of women in existing patterns of market-based

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production, or for the empowerment of women within existing paradigms of development, or for gender mainstreaming within existing configurations of institutional power. It is the forms of production, the paradigms, and the institutions themselves that need questioning and transforming, both through changes in the ideas that generate economic policies and through social mobilization. (Jain & Elson, 2012: xxxiv) As Zavala notes (2007: 294), EIB questions are not merely questions of indigeneity but of the entire public and, as such, are part of a wider need and demand for democratic politics and engagement, a need for new concepts of the state and explicit public dialogues on racism, patriarchy, inequality and cultural or linguistic particularities. In the context of a turn away from highly technocratic and standardizing neoliberal models imported from the North, however tentative, this struggle for such decolonizing visions for change in the State, society and school may now be deepened in the Andes.

Acknowledgments I would like to thank Professor Regina Cortina, and her colleagues María-José Bermeo, Angélica Quintero, Gloria Calderón and Dina López, with a special thanks to Katy de la Garza for editing assistance, and to an anonymous reviewer for useful suggestions. This chapter builds on longterm experience with bilingual education in Bolivia, and in particular, with the Assembly of Guaraní People in Bolivia. I do not claim to represent their perspectives, but I thank them for their support and leadership in the field of Indigenous education in Bolivia. I also thank Pamela Calla, Nicole Fabricant, Fernando Garcés, María Elena García, Charles Hale, Luís Enrique López and Andrew Orta for conversations that contributed to the ideas presented here.

Notes (1) For Bolivia, see also Albó and Anaya (2003); D’Emilio (1993); López (2005); Howard (2009). (2) For Ecuador, see also Yánez Cossío (1996); Garcés (2006); Useche Rodríguez (2003). (3) For Peru, see also Oliart (2011) and Zúñiga (2008). (4) ‘Collaborators’ is a term used by Rappaport (2005) to describe solidarity activists who live and work alongside Indigenous organizations, combining personal, professional, and political commitment to struggles for social transformation. (5) I have borrowed the concept of ‘minoritizing’ policies from Rivera Cusicanqui (2010).

References Abram, M. (2004) Estado del Arte de la Educación Bilingüe Intercultural en América Latina. Washington, DC: Inter-American Development Bank.

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Albó, X. (1991) El retorno del indio. Revista Andina 9 (2), 299–366. Albó, X. and Anaya, A. (2003) Niños alegres, libres, expresivos: la audacia de la educación intercultural bilingüe en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: CIPCA, UNICEF. Becker, M. (2008) Indians and Leftists in the Making of Ecuador’s Modern Indigenous Movements. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Burga, C.E. (2012) La escuela que queremos y soñamos tendrá la marca Perú. Revista de Educación y Cultura (79), 42–45. Chirinos Rivera, A. and Zegarra Leyva, M. (2004) Educación Indígena en el Perú. See http:// disde.minedu.gob.pe/xtras/Educ.indig.enPeru.pdf. Chiroque, S. (2010a) Educación: muestra de las raíces del Baguazo. Educación Esperanza, blog post. See http://schiroque.blogspot.com/2010/05/educacion-muestra-de-lasraices-del.html (accessed 16 May 2010). Chiroque, S. (2010b) Perú: ‘Baguazo’ y educación intercultural bilingüe. Educación Esperanza, blog post. See http://schiroque.blogspot.com/2010/05/baguazo-y-educacionintercultural.html (accessed 25 May 2010). Chiroque, S. and Rodríguez, A. (2008) El movimiento indígena amazónico construye su ‘derecho’ a la educación en la formación magisterial. In I. Sverdlick and P. Gentili (eds) Movimientos Sociales y Derecho a la Educación: Cuatro Estudios (pp. 13–76). Buenos Aires, Argentina: Fundación Laboratorio de Políticas Públicas. Choque Canqui, R. (1992) Educacion Indigenal: ¿Ciudadanía o Colonización? La Paz, Bolivia: THOA. La Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas del Ecuador (Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador [CONAIE]) (2010) El movimiento indígena exige autonomía para la Educación Intercultural Bilingüe. October 20. Quito, Ecuador: Boletín CONAIE. Conejo Arellano, A. (2008) Educación intercultural bilingüe en el Ecuador: la propuesta educativa y su proceso. Alteridad (November), 64–82. Cornejo Luque, R. (2009) Victorias y lecciones del paro nacional indefinido de la UNE. Red Voltaire, 16 November. See http://www.voltairenet.org/Victorias-y-leccionesdel-paro,162916. Defensoría del Pueblo (2011) Aportes para una política nacional de educación intercultural bilingüe a favor de los pueblos indígenas del Perú. Lima, Peru: Defensoría del Pueblo. D’Emilio, L. (1993) Voces y Procesos Desde la Pluralidad: La Educación Indígena en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: Plural. DIGEIBIR, Dirección General de Educación Intercultural Bilingüe y Rural (2012) Hacia una educación intercultural bilingüe de calidad: Propuesta pedagógica, May. See http:// www2.minedu.gob.pe/digeibir/articulos/PROPUESTA%20PEDAGOGICA%20 EIB%20-%20EN%20CONSULTA.pdf. El Ciudadano (2011) Asamblea aprueba Ley de Educación Intercultural; se dispone la homologación salarial de los maestros. 11 January. See http://www.elciudadano.gob.ec/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=20251:asamblea-aprueba-ley-de-educacion-­ intercultural-se-dispone-la-homologacion-salarial-de-los-maestros&catid=1:archivo. Garcés, F. (2006) Situación de la educación bilingüe en Ecuador. In L.E. López and C. Rojas (eds) La EIB en América Latina Bajo Examen (pp. 111–184). La Paz, Bolivia: Plural. García, M.E. (2005) Making Indigenous Citizens: Identity, Development, and Multicultural Activism in Peru. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Gustafson, B. (2004) El concepto de “red” y los conocimientos indígenas en la EIB. Revista de Educación Intercultural Bilingüe 2 (1), 7–22.

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Gustafson, B. (2009) Indigenous Resurgence and the Politics of Knowledge in Bolivia. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Gustafson, B. (2011) Pluralism, articulation, containment: Knowledge politics across the Americas. In M. Moraña and B. Gustafson (eds) Rethinking Intellectuals in Latin America (pp. 353–72). Frankfurt, Germany, and Madrid, Spain: Vervuert, Iberoaméricana. Gustafson, B. and Fabricant, N. (2011) Introduction: New cartographies of knowledge and struggle. In N. Fabricant and B. Gustafson (eds) Remapping Bolivia: Territory, Resources, and Indigeneity in a Plurinational State (pp. 1–33). Santa Fe, NM: School for Advanced Research Press. Hale, C. (2002) Does multiculturalism menace? Governance, cultural rights and the politics of identity in Guatemala. Journal of Latin American Studies 34 (3), 485–524. Harnecker, M. (2011) El movimiento indígena en la encrucijada: Entrevista de Marta Harnecker a Ricardo Ulcuango. Rebelión. 16 March. See http://servindi.org/pdf/movimiento _indigena_Ecuador.pdf. Howard, R. (2009) Education reform, indigenous politics, and decolonisation in the Bolivia of Evo Morales. International Journal of Educational Development 29 (6), 583–593. Hoy (2009) Dirigentes piden a Correa que deje de ser prepotente. Hoy.com (Ecuador). 9 October. See http://www.hoy.com.ec/noticias-ecuador/malestar-por-ofensas372758.html (accessed 31 May 2012). Isch López, E. (2012) Las actuales propuestas y desafíos en educación: el caso Ecuatoriano. Educação & Sociedade 32 (115), 373–391. Jain, D. & Elson, D. (eds) (2012) Harvesting Feminist Knowledge for Public Policy: Rebuilding Progress. New Delhi, India, and Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. López, L.E. (2005) De Resquicios a Boquerones: La Educación Intercultural Bilingüe en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: PROEIB-Andes, Plural. Ministerio de Educación-Ecuador (Ministry of Education [MINEDUC]) (2012) Funciones del SEE. See http://www.educarecuador.ec/sistema-educativo-ecuatoriano/ funciones.html (accessed 30 May 2012). Ministerio de Educacíon-Bolivia (Ministry of Education [MINEDU]) (2012) Objetivos estratégicos. See http://www.minedu.gob.bo/index.php?option=com_content&view =article&id=57&Itemid=68. Montaluisa, L. (2009) Ecuador: Derogatoria del decreto 1585 y supresión de la subsec­ retaría de Ariruma Kowi. 23 October. See http://old.kaosenlared.net/noticia/ ecuador-derogatoria-decreto-1585-supresion-subsecretaria-ariruma-kowi. Montaluisa, L. (2011) A los dos años de invasión colonialista al sistema de educación intercul­ tural bilingüe. Educación Intercultural Bilingüe, blog post, 18 February. See http:// eibecuador.blogspot.com/ (accessed 8 June 2012). Montoya, R. (2002) Limites y posibilidades de la educación bilingüe intercultural en el Perú. In M. Heise (ed.) Interculturalidad: Creación de un Concepto y Desarrollo de una Actitud (pp. 165–79). Lima, Peru: Ministry of Education, FORTE-PE. Oliart, P. (2011) Políticas educativas y la cultura del sistema escolar en el Perú. Lima, Peru: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Rappaport, J. (2005) Intercultural Utopias: Public Intellectuals, Cultural Experimentation, and Ethnic Dialogue in Colombia. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Rivera Cusicanqui, S. (2010) The notion of rights and the paradoxes of postcolonial modernity: Indigenous peoples and women in Bolivia. Qui Parle 18 (2), 29–54.

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Soares, S., Padrón, F., Velasco, A., Ravenstein, D., Antonio, M. and Paredes, B. (2005) Impact Evaluation of Intercultural Bilingual Education in Bolivia. Background paper for the Indigenous People, Poverty and Human Development in Latin America: 1994–2004 study. Unpublished manuscript, World Bank, Washington, DC. Trapnell, L. (2003) Some key issues in intercultural bilingual education teacher training programmes – as seen from a teacher training programme in the Peruvian Amazon Basin. Comparative Education Review 39 (2), 165–183. Useche Rodríguez, R. (2003) Educación Indígena y Proyecto Civilizatorio en Ecuador. Quito, Ecuador: Universidad Andina Simón Boliva, Abya-Yala. Van Cott, D.L. (2000) The Friendly Liquidation of the Past: The Politics of Diversity in Latin America. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press. Yánez Cossío, C. (1996) La Educación Indígena en el Ecuador. Quito, Ecuador: Universidad Andina Simón Boliva, Abya-Yala Zavala, V. (2007) Avances y Desafíos de la Educación Intercultural Bilingüe en Bolivia, Ecuador y Perú: Estudio de Casos. Lima, Peru, and La Paz, Bolivia: IBIS, CARE. Zavala, V. and Córdova, G. (2003) Volver al Desafío. Hacia una Definición Crítica de la Educación Bilingue Intercultural en el Perú. Lima, Peru: PROEDUCA-GTZ. Zúñiga, M. (2008) La Educación Intercultural Bilingüe: El Caso Peruano. Buenos Aires, Argentina: FLAPE.

4 The Tension between Western and Indigenous Knowledge in Intercultural Bilingual Education in Ecuador Carmen Martínez Novo Introduction The impulse to take into account Indigenous knowledge in educational institutions originates in the struggles of Indigenous movements and in their collaboration with non-Indigenous allies (e.g. religious groups, political activists, development workers and intellectuals). According to accounts of Indigenous movements in Latin America in general and more specifically in Ecuador, one of the most important demands of these movements has been the preservation of cultural distinctiveness and the promotion of alternative ways of knowing (Sieder, 2002; Warren & Jackson, 2003; Yashar, 2005). So far, the mechanism for achieving this goal has been elementary inter­cultural bilingual education (EIB). As Postero and Zamosc state, ‘a key demand from all groups is the recognition of cultural difference and its corollary, the need for protection of Indigenous culture…For most Indigenous groups the implementation of bilingual intercultural education policies is a keystone of the new citizenship’ (2004: 15). In another survey of the bibliography on Indigenous movements in Latin America in the last 15 years, Jackson and Warren (2005) agree that cultural and historical recovery is the first step toward reaching other goals, such as self-determination and autonomy. Because Indigenous movements are discussed as ‘new social movements’ based on cultural identity, the preservation and enrichment of such identity and culture should presumably be a central point in their agendas. However, a closer ethnographic look at Indigenous communities and their practical approach to education shows, as Arnold and Yapita (2006) and Canessa (2004) have argued for the case of Bolivia, García (2005) for Peru, Uzendoski (2009) for the Ecuadorian Amazon and Martínez Novo (2006) for Mexico, that there are ambiguities and tensions in how the cultural project 98

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of the Indigenous movement is understood and implemented in practice at the community level. For example, despite official statements by the leadership of Indigenous movements about linguistic and cultural preservation and reinforcement, Indigenous parents are demanding that their children be educated in Spanish and, specifically, be taught reading and writing in that language (García, 2005; Martínez Novo, 2006). Scholars have also observed that intercultural teachers spend most of their time teaching Spanish literacy and basic conventional mathematic operations (Canessa, 2004; Martínez Novo, 2006). Paradoxically, little importance is given in the daily practices of the intercultural school system to teaching academic subjects in native languages, the wisdom of elders and non-Western systems of recording and transmitting knowledge through oral means as well as through the use of textiles. As a result, Western approaches to knowledge, such as literacy and Western content, are typically taught to Indigenous children (Arnold, 2006; Canessa, 2004; Uzendoski, 2009). Official intercultural education discourse and Indigenous leaders claim Indigenous knowledge, but parents and children seem to demand ‘modern’ or Western content, and teachers struggle to provide this knowledge to their students while asserting publicly that they are preserving the group’s culture. This chapter explores the relationship between ‘Indigenous’ and ‘Western’ knowledge in the system of EIB in Ecuador. One of its goals is to examine the reasons for the contrast between the official discourses on cultural preservation and the actual practices employed in intercultural bilingual schools and intercultural universities in Ecuador. This analysis demonstrates that the struggle to infuse Indigenous or Western knowledge into intercultural education signals a fissure in the understanding of the role of education between the leaders and grassroots of the Indigenous movement, and also illuminates the different goals of non-Indigenous allies and Indigenous peoples. The chapter further discusses the location of Indigenous knowledge in the form of oral narrative and elder wisdom outside of educational institutions: in the family and community spheres. Finally, it compares intercultural elementary education with the status of Indigenous knowledge at the university. The methods for this study are the result of a fruitful experience in EIB since Indigenous and non-Indigenous researchers collaborated in the research. Interculturalism, which implies heightened communication between cultures, is not the mere presence of diversity, pluralism or multi­ culturalism. Rather, it is the teaching and understanding of two different cultures on an equal footing through the schooling process (see Chapter 2, this volume). Therefore, the research presented here is the product of collaboration between four Indigenous academics and activists, some of them

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involved in the Indigenous movement, and the author. Some of the data was gathered as part of a larger investigation, begun in 2007 on the educational system of Ecuador and carried out in 44 schools in the Highlands, the Coast and the Amazon of Ecuador (Martínez Novo & de la Torre, 2010). The data relevant to intercultural bilingual education, which was only one section of the larger study, were gathered by the author and three Indigenous researchers – Kar Atamaint, Juan Illicachi and Raul Cevallos – in the province of Morona Santiago, inhabited by the Shuar people who speak a language called Shuar Chicham, and in the Northern and Central Highlands of Ecuador, where native people speak Kichwa, a dialect of Quechua, the language of the Incas (2007). There are a total of 13 Indigenous languages spoken in Ecuador, but only Shuar and Kichwa, which are the languages with the largest number of speakers, are included in the analysis. In addition, this chapter also analyzes data from interviews carried out by Luis Alberto Tuaza on oral traditions in the province of Chimborazo (Tuaza, 2010). Given the contrast between discourses and practices, it was important to look beyond official documents and the recorded statements of leaders, nongovernmental organizations and teachers to assess the educational system. Thus, the research discussed here has emphasized fieldwork in schools and universities and observation of daily practices inside and outside the classroom. Researchers performed ethnographic descriptions and also carried out open-ended interviews with actors of the educational system such as administrators, teachers, parents and students. The researchers conducted and transcribed 138 unstructured open-ended interviews, which have been analyzed in previous studies (Martínez Novo & de la Torre, 2010). This chapter takes a new look at these data in an attempt to further elucidate the relationship between Indigenous and Western knowledge in EIB in the context of Ecuador.

The History of Indigenous Education in Ecuador It is important to understand why and how Indigenous education started in order to debunk these tensions between discourses and practices and between Indigenous and Western epistemes in EIB. Struggles for advancing socioeconomically and related political organizing have been linked to attempts to open educational opportunities for the Indigenous population. As Arnold and Yapita (2006) have shown for the case of Bolivia, the struggle of Indigenous communities for their rights to land made them aware of the importance of achieving literacy in order to be able to fight the necessary legal battles without the help of intermediaries. Similarly, a study on the origins

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of EIB in the Ecuadorian highlands (Martínez Novo, 2004) showed that peasants struggling for the implementation of agrarian reform laws found it necessary to open schools that would educate them so that they could litigate with the Ecuadorian state as well as apply to its development and credit programs. As Das and Poole (2004) have argued, the state is very much about the need to prepare and understand written documents, a domain from which Andean peoples have been historically excluded (Arnold & Yapita, 2006; Ramón, 1991). The following example illustrates the connections between literacy and the struggle for land. Rafael Pérez, an Indigenous activist from the Imbabura province, showed me the house on the hacienda1 that his organization had ‘seized’ after a decades-long struggle and that was later transformed into a communal house. I then asked him: ‘So what concrete actions did you carry out to take this hacienda’? I was thinking that he would respond by telling me about arriving at the hacienda house at night, taking the administrator hostage, occupying hacienda lands, and so on. However, he simply responded, ‘We went to Quito and started a lawsuit’. On that occasion, Rafael Pérez made me aware of a book that he had written, Tierra comuni­ taria de Tunibamba por fin eres nuestra (Communitarian Land of Tunibamba You Are Ours At Last) (Pérez, 2007) in which he narrates the long struggle of his community for the land of this hacienda. The following excerpt extracted from Pérez’s account shows that reading and writing play a central role in Indigenous activism:2 ‘Segundo Olmedo Flores, a member of the community, gives us his testimony of how the struggle for the recovery of community land started: “The struggle to recover community land started in 1978. A lawyer from the city of Latacunga gave me a book explaining the Agrarian Reform Law. And I started to read, and I found that the law favored the possibility of legally taking a hacienda located contiguous to an Indigenous community” (2007: 76)’ ‘The alternative that we took was to struggle through the law for the recovery of Tunibamba’s community land (2007: 78)’. ‘Besides, we analyzed that by law and history these lands belonged to us, and thus, it is legitimate for us to struggle for them through the law (2007: 79)’. ‘How did we find out that long ago these community lands belonged to our ancestors? Because there are documents, and between so many arguments this is a very truthful one (2007: 80)’. ‘My dream [Perez’s] of making the compromise to struggle for the poor became a reality in that assembly, because when I was a child, I read the word of God in Kichwa, and I thought that one day I will be an adult and then, I would help my community to overcome the situation

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of injustice (2007: 102–103)’. ‘To carry out this struggle, I did not have any formal education or adequate knowledge, and, on top of that, I was scared to talk with the authorities in Quito (2007: 104)’. ‘One night I had a dream. I was close to hacienda Tunibamba, exactly over the road, and a voice could be heard, and that voice asked me to write in the walls of the hacienda these words: “We must struggle for the liberation of the poor.” And I did, I wrote just this’. (Pérez, 2007: 106) Reading and writing were both the means to reach awareness about injustice as well as the privileged tools to end it. Beyond the obvious practical uses of literacy to litigate with the state, this account also assigns strong spiritual powers to reading and writing, and connects these activities to the domains of religion and the supernatural. Reading and writing must have had a very powerful character for those excluded from achieving these skills. The connection between literacy and religion may as well originate in the reliance of Liberation Theology3 on literacy and the Bible to teach religion to the grassroots (see Lyons, 2006). Liberation Theology was an important influence in the struggle of the community of Tunibamba narrated by Pérez (2007: 118–121). Historically, Indigenous peoples who did not know how to read and write used local lawyers called tinterillos to help them in their legal struggles with the state and landowners (Becker, 2012). But learning how to read and write would certainly give peasants a greater awareness of the political context and an enhanced ability to fight back. In the case discussed here, some members of the community were able to read and write (others signed the petition for the hacienda land with their fingerprints, a practice required from those who did not know how to write (Pérez, 2007: 83)), but the community also used a socialist lawyer and a woman who worked for the progressive Catholic Church as intermediaries in their legal struggles. Pérez’s narrative describes the struggle of his community as an almost two decades-long circulation of paperwork that came and went from the community to different offices of the state and back. The distance between what I expected when I first spoke with Pérez, an extra-legal direct action of occupation of the hacienda, and what had taken place, a tortuous legal intervention, teaches us about the importance of documents, literacy and writing for social movement’s struggles. We are also able to grasp how the state, understood as a continuous circulation of paperwork (Das & Poole, 2004) can be certainly threatening to those who have been excluded from access to formal education in the dominant language. A review of the historical records indicating how bilingual education started in some regions of Ecuador elucidates another reason for the need for EIB: to create opportunities of schooling where there were previously

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none (Martínez Novo, 2004). Despite the existence of republican laws, created after the formation of the Ecuadorian Republic in 1830, which required the education of Indians, the majority of Indigenous peoples were excluded from even basic literacy until the 1960s and 1970s. In 1833, a presidential decree established that there should be a school for Indians in each parroquia (‘parish’). The same decree assigned a few scholarships for Indigenous students to attend a prestigious seminary in Quito. However, the Indigenous communities themselves, instead of the Ecuadorian state, were expected to provide the funds required for Indigenous education (Yánez Cossío, 1996). Meanwhile, the education of Indigenous peoples of the Amazon was delegated to the Catholic missions. The first Ecuadorian president, Juan José Flores, divided the Amazon into four provinces and requested that the Pope create missionary vicariates that would be in charge of the administration, provision of infrastructure, education and health in the Amazonian provinces of Ecuador. In 1895, the liberal government of President Eloy Alfaro established that ‘There should be special schools for Indians, so that they can exercise their rights and duties as citizens’ (Yánez Cossío, 1996: 75, author’s translation). Similarly, this law stated ‘in all agrarian estates with more than 20 Indians registered, the master should send Indian children to the nearest school until they are 14 years old. If there were no schools nearby, the master should provide one for free on his own land’ (Yánez Cossío, 1996: 75, author’s translation). Despite these noble intentions, the law was barely implemented. Moreover, as Andres Guerrero (2000) has shown, the Ecuadorian state delegated its duties to third parties such as landowners who, with some illustrious exceptions, were not interested in their peons learning how to read and write. As noted above, in the early Republican period, the education of Indigenous peoples was also delegated to the Indigenous communities that were responsible for funding it, or to the Catholic Church. In this way, the state could have progressive educational laws without expending the corresponding economic resources and administrative efforts. As stated in the 1895 Decree, lack of educational opportunities for Indigenous peoples in Ecuador has also meant exclusion from citizenship, because those who could not read and write in Spanish were not able to vote or be elected until 1979, with the expansion of suffrage following the return to democratic rule. Before that date and during periods of democratic rule, there was a literacy requirement to vote. To the present day, the vote of illiterates is optional in Ecuador, reflecting past literacy requirements for citizenship, whereas the vote of the literate population is mandatory. The Law of Education of 1938, strongly influenced by Mexican Indi­ genismo, emphasized the incorporation of diverse human groups into the

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national culture. During this period, the government of Ecuador created schools for the education of Indigenous teachers, but according to Yánez Cossío (1996) non-Indigenous students took advantage of this educational opportunity instead. In the 1960s and 1970s, Indigenous education was still associated with adult education and the teaching of literacy, with an emphasis on the assimilation of Indigenous peoples. This tendency changed in the 1980s with the return of the country to democracy and during the Roldós-Hurtado progressive government (1979–1983). During this period there was an emphasis on the revalorization of native cultures, literacy in native languages, and Indigenous rights. Bilingual and bicultural education became official in 1981 in the regions where the Indigenous peoples constituted a majority and new schools for Indigenous teachers were created. In 1984, the Ecuadorian government made an agreement with the German government to further enhance EIB. However, very often progressive educational laws and policies have only been imperfectly implemented in Ecuador. Most Indigenous peoples remained illiterate until well into the 20th century due to state negligence and the opposition of the land-owning class, as illustrated by the fact that pioneer educational experiences for Indigenous peasants started as clandestine schools sponsored by the Communist Party and its Ecuadorian Federation of Indians branch in the 1940s. Despite these early efforts, by the late 1960s, approximately 70% of Indigenous men and 95% of Indigenous women remained illiterate in some regions (Martínez Novo, 2004). Additional reasons for creating an intercultural bilingual system were the struggle against the discrimination of Indigenous children in mainstream schools. The few Indigenous activists and intellectuals who went through the mainstream educational system in the 1960s and 1970s had traumatic experiences (Burgos, 1977; de la Torre, 1996, 2000). For this reason, they later sought to create alternative spaces free from White and mes­ tizo discrimination and violence. Before that was possible, as Carlos de la Torre (1996) described, racial hierarchies were brutally inscribed in the bodies and minds of young Indigenous men and women. For example, Indigenous students were physically punished, made to sit in the back and taught that Indigenous people were suitable for agricultural work but not for intellectual endeavors. During the second half of the 20th century, the political left, the progressive Catholic Church, Protestant missionaries as well as development agencies and some intellectuals, particularly ethnolinguists, sponsored regional educational institutions and regional school systems for Indigenous peoples (Yánez Cossío, 1996). All these regional experiences were consolidated by the state under the management of DINEIB (Dirección Nacional de Educación

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Intercultural Bilingüe (National Directorate of Intercultural Bilingual Education)) after its creation in 1988. Also, all rural schools in areas with an Indigenous population majority were transferred to the intercultural bilingual system and all the teachers in them were relocated regardless of whether they were Indigenous or mestizo, and whether or not they were bilingual in Spanish and the Indigenous language. In Ecuador, once the intercultural system of education was created, the previous mainstream system was renamed Hispanic, meaning not Indigenous. The Ecuadorian state agreed to allow Indigenous organizations to manage the intercultural bilingual education system autonomously. This history created some tension between pre-existing systems managed by religious or other institutions and the new management by Indigenous organizations. There are still legal loopholes producing a lack of clarity about who is in charge of what. Another tension that remains relates to the mestizo teachers who were transferred into the intercultural system. Although more research on the mestizo teachers of EIB is needed, Indigenous professionals of EIB argue that some, but not all, of these teachers are hostile to EIB (Cevallos, 2007; Illicachi, 2007). One reason for this hostility is that some mestizo teachers who have to respond to Indigenous administrators as their bosses resent the reversal of historical racial hierarchies that have placed mestizos above Indians. Another reason for hostility is that being involved in the education of Indians is considered of lower status than educating non-Indigenous children. A third reason is that transferred mestizo teachers tend to live in provincial cities, and being assigned to intercultural education means waking up earlier in the morning and transporting themselves to an Indigenous community to teach (Illicachi, 2007). An additional problem is that many of them are not fluent in the native language of the children that they teach. Finally, the diversity of regional experiences makes the system a heterogeneous one, reflective of different influences. For example, SEIC (Sistema de Escuelas Indígenas de Cotopaxi, System of Indigenous Schools of the Cotopaxi Province) led by Father José Manangón, a radical Indigenous priest inspired by Liberation Theology and Paulo Freire’s (2000 [1968]) Pedagogy of the Oppressed, is characterized by a participatory pedagogy adapted to the social and environmental surroundings of the students. Unfortunately, in other regions of Ecuador the pedagogy used in intercultural education remains teacher centered and based on rote learning because the early agents of schooling were less progressive. It is thus important not to homogenize the educational system and take into account these different origins and histories. As documented previously (Martínez Novo, 2004), there were tensions between the understandings of religious and other educational activists

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about what it meant to create an Indigenous education, and the demands of the rural population that benefited from these educational opportunities. Educational activists emphasized training in agricultural techniques, intercultural pedagogy and classes in Indigenous language and culture. Aware of the limits of small-holder agriculture based on tiny, eroded and unproductive plots located at high altitude in the case of the highlands, and of the restrictions of low-pay employment in rural teaching, Indigenous peasants demanded an education that would be useful in the ‘modern’ urban world, and that would ideally include training in subjects such as English, technology, tourism, accounting, mechanics and other urban professions. The main motivation for the creation of EIB for its beneficiaries was the ability to achieve socioeconomic mobility and inclusion through the waging of legal battles in the language of the state and the acquisition of skills that would allow them to become full citizens; and access to education, the main tool for social mobility for the unprivileged. The school was perceived as a mechanism for acquiring the modern or Western knowledge that would make socioeconomic inclusion feasible for rural Indigenous populations. However, the only way to achieve these goals was with the help of activists, religious leaders, nongovernmental organizations or intellectuals who valued these populations and their traditions and wanted to preserve and reinforce Indigenous knowledge and languages. This relationship between activists and the more practical goals of deprived populations explains some of the tension in the implementation of the intercultural bilingual school.

The Current Situation Different from experiences in other Latin American countries such as Mexico, Peru or Bolivia, the Ecuadorian intercultural bilingual system has not been controlled solely by the state; its management has been delegated to Indigenous organizations. While the Ecuadorian state retained the rights to legislate over and finance the intercultural system, Indigenous organizations had the responsibility for managing it. They were in charge of producing pedagogical materials and curriculum guides, and making decisions on administrative and teaching staff. In 1988, the Ministry of Education signed an agreement with CONAIE (Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas del Ecuador, Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador) delegating the management of intercultural bilingual education to this organization. Later, FEINE (Federación de Indígenas Evangélicos, Federation of Evangelical Protestant Indigenous People) and FENOCIN (Federación Nacional de Organ­ izaciones Campesinas, Indígenas y Negras, National Federation of Peasant,

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Indigenous and Black Organizations), the smaller Indigenous organizations, gained access to a share of staff positions and decision-making spaces. However, in February 2009, through Executive Decree 1585, the government of President Rafael Correa (2007–present) abolished the autonomy of Indigenous organizations to elect the authorities of DINEIB or decide over educational policies. This decree established that the Minister of Education, so far a mestizo, would manage the intercultural bilingual system in accordance with national public policies. All authorities including the National Director of Intercultural Bilingual Education and the Provincial Directors would be freely nominated and removed by the Minister of Education. Several reasons were given for this change that conflicts with the idea of autonomy that the declaration of a plurinational state in the 2008 Ecuadorian Constitution implies. According to the Ministry of Education, EIB had been delegated to Indigenous organizations in the context of the neoliberal retrenchment of the state. For this reason, bilingual education had become prey to a handful of corrupt leaders who had used the system for their own profit, who had politicized it and who were the cause of the deep problems of quality in the system. The ministry also accused CONAIE of being ‘racist’, because they had monopolized intercultural education for the sake of Indigenous organizations, had taught children about Indigenous struggles and had not included mestizos. Correa’s government also characterized Indigenous movements as ‘corporatist organizations’ meaning groups that support particular interests and not the common good, and accused them of all the problems of EIB. The context of neoliberal budget cuts in which Indigenous organizations had to operate is not mentioned as a reason for some of the deficiencies in EIB (Ministerio de Educación del Ecuador, 2009). Although Correa’s government claims that interculturalism and Indigenous knowledge should be expanded to the whole educational system, public and private, few steps have been taken so far to implement these goals in mainstream educational institutions. The study discussed in the next section was carried out before these changes took place. It would be important to assess what has happened to the system since the executive function of government assumed its control from the Indigenous organizations. One visible change has been that Indigenous individuals and some of the mestizo teachers embedded in EIB who are loyal to the Correa government have replaced the historic leaders of CONAIE in the high positions of educational institutions, but the impact of these changes in everyday practices at the classroom level are not yet well known. What seems to be at stake is who controls a great number of jobs for Indigenous peoples. This is important because teaching in intercultural schools is basically the only job available to Indigenous professionals in an extremely discriminatory labor

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market. Whoever controls the jobs controls the political loyalties, so the abolition of autonomy of the intercultural education system is one way for the government to weaken CONAIE as an independent social movement and to create a parallel social movement loyal to the government. In 31 March 2011, a new Organic Law of Intercultural Education (Ley Orgánica de Educación Intercultural, LOEI) was issued. This law is not only for the education of Indigenous people, but refers to the whole educational system that now becomes intercultural in its totality. For example, the law establishes that the state is obliged to ‘progressively include in the curriculum the study of at least one ancestral language as well as the systematic study of nonofficial national realities, histories, and local knowledge’ (LOEI, Title I, Article 5, letter l). A separate System of Intercultural Bilingual Education persists, but it becomes part of the Ministry of Education and the Minister remains its main authority. In LOEI, the government defines interculturalism in the following terms: ‘Interculturalidad is understood as coexistence and interaction in equality that promotes unity in diversity and mutual appreciation between individuals, nationalities and peoples in the national and international contexts’. I see several tensions in this law: first, a centralization of decision making in the executive that assumes the responsibility for the implementation of interculturalism throughout society. In addition, I worry about the appropriation of interculturalism by the nation–state and a watering down of the meaning of the term at the expense of interculturalidad as a historical political project of Indigenous peoples. The status of EIB in Ecuador is uncertain and in flux at this moment and new studies will be necessary to assess the changes.

Ethnographic Findings in Elementary Intercultural Bilingual Education Despite their discourses on the importance of cultural preservation and intercultural education, even the leadership of the Indigenous movement does not seem to be convinced by what it advocates. One of the most shocking findings from the study conducted in collaboration with Indigenous intellectuals is that bilingual education continues to be perceived as second class. Few leaders or teachers send their children to bilingual schools and most favor white/mestizo Hispanic institutions in provincial capitals (see also Cevallos, 2007; Illicachi, 2007). Sometimes, having enough money to pay for the bus to the nearest city, better uniforms, and more school

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supplies and books, makes the difference between going to a rural intercultural school or to an urban Hispanic school. Pedro de la Cruz, President of FENOCIN (Federación Nacional de Organizaciones Campesinas, Indígenas y Negras, National Federation of Peasant, Indigenous and Black Organizations) and National Assembly Deputy from Cotacachi, argues: I have a very critical position regarding DINEIB. Bilingual education has become education for poor Indigenous people. Ask bilingual teachers what percentage of them [have] their children in bilingual education. If we defend bilingual education we should defend it with our actions, not with discourses. If I defend bilingual education, I should have my children in bilingual education. But, if I don’t, then, I am only defending my job. I am criticizing bilingual education because it is an education of lower quality. The teachers, the authorities, even the government, are responsible, because the government has not provided enough resources. What I propose is that it should be an intercultural education for everybody. Because today only we, Indigenous people, practice interculturalism. Interculturalism, however, is a relationship. Then, intercultural education should be for everybody. Of course, I would like my children to learn Kichwa. They should learn to read and write Kichwa professionally. But they should also learn to read and write Spanish and English. I suggest that you go to visit our communities. Indigenous children who leave intercultural bilingual schools are not well received elsewhere. It is not because of racism, but because of low quality. When they join Hispanic schools, these kids are sent to lower grades than the ones they already completed. What I defend is an intercultural education with quality, one that fulfills today’s needs, one that allows our children not to be excluded because they did not get a good education. (interview by author, 11 April 2008) Here, de la Cruz is arguing that Indigenous knowledge such as native languages is important and should be taken into account in schooling. However, Western knowledge is also central for Indigenous children to participate in today’s economy and society. It is important to note that Indigenous and Western knowledge are not perceived here as oppositional but as complementary, as necessary parts of an integrated education for Indigenous as well as mestizo children. This interview, taken well before the implementation of LOEI in 2011, resonates with the path that the Correa government is taking by making the whole system of education inter­cultural. In fact, Pedro de la Cruz and his organization FENOCIN have been key allies of Correa within the Indigenous population. However, the danger of de la Cruz’s

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project, to make all education intercultural, is the watering down of the concept of interculturalism transforming it into an empty signifier. Another danger that de la Cruz did not foresee at the moment of this interview is that education could return to the control of mestizos and the autonomy of Indigenous organizations to manage the system be eliminated. As de la Cruz argues, we found that the great majority of Indigenous teachers and leaders place their own children in Hispanic schools. If the leadership of the Indigenous movement shies away from bilingual education, it is not surprising that many Indigenous people do not want their children to be a part of that type of education. Indigenous communities claim that they do not want an education in Kichwa because they already know the language. Instead, they want their children to learn foreign languages that are seen as more useful in a globalized economy, as well as computer science, which is correctly perceived as the necessary preparation for functioning in the modern world. Many Indigenous merchants from Otavalo who travel to Europe and the United States to sell their crafts or interact with tourists at home perceive the acquisition of a foreign language as a necessity, not as a luxury. Different from resource-deprived rural bilingual schools, urban schools have more resources and offer classes in English, computers, music, physical education and art. The Ministry of Education did not cover the salaries of English and computer teachers at the time of this investigation, but in urban Hispanic schools parents agreed to pay a little extra to get training in these areas which were deemed fundamental by parents, but were not yet a part of the official curriculum. In many of the interviews with Indigenous parents and children in the Northern and Central Highlands as well as the Southern Amazon (Cevallos, 2007; Illicachi, 2007; Martínez Novo & de la Torre, 2010), the lack of training in English and computers was highlighted by Indigenous parents as reasons to rate Hispanic education higher than EIB. Not surprisingly the number of students in bilingual schools in the Imbabura province has decreased. Whereas 11,500 children were enrolled in 1989, 10,795 were enrolled in 2006. According to Indigenous education administrator Raúl Cevallos (2007), ‘70% of rural Indigenous children in the Cotacachi area attend urban Hispanic schools’. Kichwa and other Indigenous languages have not experienced the revival and prestige promised by the promoters of EIB. In the Otavalo and Cotacachi areas where an Indigenous middle class and Indigenous entrepreneurs are ruling cities together with Indigenous mayors, an Indigenous language revival would be expected. However, as Haboud (2004) and Maldonado (2004) have shown, many young Indigenous peoples no longer speak Kichwa, the native language. The decline in the use of Indigenous languages, even in areas politically and economically dominated by Indigenous peoples,

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is not only due to the population’s preference for Hispanic schools but also to the fact that education in the intercultural bilingual system does not take place in native languages, as it should according to the Intercultural Bilingual Education Official Guidelines (MOSEIB, Modelo del Sistema de Educación Intercultural Bilingue, Guidelines of the System of Intercultural and Bilingual Education) approved by the Ministry of Education in 1993 (Ministerio de Educación y Cultura, 1993). On the contrary, the ethnographic findings from the study discussed here show that all education takes place in Spanish and native language is only a special class that typically happens for an hour once or twice a week. In some native language lessons, words in the native language are taught but Spanish is the language of the class, particularly in the Shuar region of the southern Amazon. As is well known, mixing languages is less effective than immersion in the language to be taught and it may create confusion between languages for children. Furthermore, native languages are often used to introduce Western concepts such as the national anthem, Western tales or Western divisions of time such as the months of the year or the days of the week. This strategy mimics earlier missionary practices of using native languages for purposes of evangelization and teaching the Bible. The intercultural component is even less developed than the bilingual component of EIB. As Michael Uzendoski (2009) has pointed out about the case of the Napo-Kichwa of the northern Amazon, the knowledge of elders is not given enough importance and it is rarely used in intercultural bilingual classrooms. Uzendoski and Arnold and Yapita (2006) have also argued that non-Western methods of recording and transmitting knowledge, such as rock engraving and textiles, are not taken into account in intercultural bilingual systems, which remain exclusively focused on literacy. There are differences among regional systems, however. Intercultural schools in Imbabura occasionally invite elder yachaks (wise men) to talk to students, particularly in periods of holiday celebrations. However, similar practices have not been documented in Shuar schools in the Amazon, or in schools in the central highlands. Paradoxically, the teaching of language and culture is the stated central reason for the need of an intercultural bilingual system, and something not perceived as important by most teachers, parents and students. See, for example, this quote from an interview with a Shuar woman of the southern Ecuadorian Amazon who is proud to be part of a successful Indigenous movement: Of course, I identify as Shuar. Wherever I go I say: ‘I am Shuar, I am from the Amazon, I am Ecuadorian’. And people look at me with

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surprise. However, it is also unfair that today’s schools teach only Shuar. How can children learn if they don’t teach them good Spanish? When we went to school we had well prepared teachers from Quito and Guayaquil. At least thanks to those teachers we learned to speak good Spanish. We want to get education for our children. Because we do not have good education, we get delinquency. They [the Salesians] taught us well. They taught us how to do things, how to cook, how to greet people, how to eat properly, how to use the broom… But, today schools don’t teach children good manners. That is why I say that there is a lot of corruption. There is corruption in our own race…(Interview by author, 19 February 2006) Here, the interviewee is criticizing the transfer of the school system controlled by the missionaries and directed toward cultural assimilation into a system where the Indigenous organizations had greater control and were the official discourse of the leadership and teachers has been about linguistic survival. The quote might be very well interpreted as internalized prejudice, as the interviewee rejects her children being taught in the Indigenous language and by Indigenous teachers (as opposed to well educated teachers from the main cities of Ecuador), but it is also reflective of how communities perceive the role of schools: their role is that of empowering children to deal with the dominant national society. The request that the school teaches Western knowledge (Spanish and ‘good manners’) is not perceived by this woman as contradictory with her pride in her Shuar identity. Paradoxically, the interviewee complains that all instruction is provided in Shuar, while all of our observations in the schools of the Shuar region where she lives contradict this fact. We observed a good number of Shuar schools teaching all subjects in Spanish, while Shuar language was the content of a class that was taught only sporadically and often in Spanish with a few words in Shuar. We did not find a single school where Shuar was the regular language of instruction. The woman quoted may be taking the discourse of leaders and teachers at face value, or her comment may be interpreted as normative: students should be taught Spanish, not Shuar. Another reason for the lack of emphasis on language and culture relates to the insufficient number of teachers trained in those areas. Bilingual education is understaffed because different national governments have not created new positions in the intercultural system. In addition, Kichwa language teachers continue to receive less recognition than Spanish language teachers in Hispanic schools and, according to some teachers, they also receive less pedagogical training (Cevallos, 2007; Illicachi, 2007; interviews with teachers by the author, 2007). For example, Juan Illicachi (2007: 9)

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notes: 4 ‘It is understood that to teach Kichwa it is not necessary to study. It is enough to be an Indian. The Kichwa language is understood as being only of and for the Indians […] To teach the Spanish language you need to study a minimum of four years. To teach Kichwa [educational authorities] do not expect teachers to study’. Raul Cevallos (2007: 3) interviews a teacher who adds: 5 ‘We are failing in EIB because the majority of us are Hispanic [non-­ Indigenous] and we have not received enough training on how to use bilingual [Kichwa-Spanish] texts’. Many mestizo rural teachers were reassigned to Indigenous bilingual schools without receiving enough guidance on Indigenous languages and culture. In Imbabura’s bilingual educational institutions, for example, out of 511 teachers only 20% speak the Indigenous language (Cevallos, 2007). Some mestizo teachers complain that they have to teach intercultural education under the supervision of Indigenous authorities. The pedagogy of some mestizo teachers within the intercultural system seems to reproduce deeply entrenched prejudices against Indigenous peoples, which puts into question whether the bilingual system has been able to create a prejudice-free environment as Canessa (2004) has also questioned for the case of Bolivia.

Indigenous Knowledge Outside of the School While Indigenous knowledge, languages and cultural traditions are not sufficiently taught in Ecuadorian intercultural bilingual schools, the example of Kichwa community pedagogy that I will discuss below demonstrates that Indigenous language and Indigenous knowledge in the form of oral tradition still play an important role in the education of Indigenous children and continues to be reproduced. However, this native knowledge in its more complex form is still located in the community and has not yet been successfully articulated to EIB in the Ecuadorian case, which helps explain the aforementioned Shuar woman’s negative perception of EIB. Greater awareness about Indigenous knowledge and its characteristics will help inform our debate of ‘Indigenous’ versus ‘Western’ epistemes in EIB. This section is based on collaboration with Luis Alberto Tuaza, an Indigenous researcher with a doctorate, in recovering Kichwa oral traditions in the province of Chimborazo in Ecuador (Tuaza, 2010). Tuaza interviewed Petrona Pilamunga Duchi, better known as Mama Pitu, who is a wise woman and well-respected elder from the province of Chimborazo. Our interest was to recover the many folk tales that she remembers and uses to educate the youth in her community. She lived in Cicalpito, an Indigenous community of Cantón Colta. Until recently, Mama Pitu was a peasant who owned small

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plots near her community, cultivated the land, and raised domestic animals. However, her experience is also deeply linked to the hacienda system and to migration, as family members had been migrating to the coast of Ecuador since the times of the hacienda. Within the hacienda system, Indigenous peons and their families worked for a nominal salary and for the usufruct, or holder’s right of enjoyment of benefits or profits of a plot of land, they were transferred to a new master when the property was sold, did not have complete freedom of movement, and could be physically punished (for a more complete description of the hacienda system in Chimborazo, Ecuador, see Lyons, 2006). The hacienda system declined in Ecuador in 1964 with the first law of agrarian reform that abolished precarious labor relationships, such as the requirement that the whole Indigenous family worked in exchange for the usufruct of a plot of land without vacation time or benefits. Mama Pitu’s relatives migrated periodically to Guayaquil where they worked as informal vendors to complement their meager income as peons and, after the agrarian reform, as subsistence peasants. Her children currently live in Quito and that is why she migrated to the capital city when she became too old to live on her own. Mama Pitu was highly respected by community children and youth who often came to her house to hear her tales. These stories did not present a pristine pre-Hispanic, Indigenous peasant community: characters in Mama Pitu’s tales lived in haciendas and migrated to the Coast to sell their wares. Hacienda owners and their wives were often benign characters in her tales, whereas hacienda overseers (mayordomos) were evil. Overseers physically punished peasants and, according to Mama Pitu, lied to their bosses. Hacienda owners, however, fostered paternalistic relationships with their peons. Characters in her tales also migrated to find unimaginable riches in their travels. In their way to the coast they found God in the shape of a white, tall man whom they called tayta amito (Father the Little Master literally), a common idiom to refer to God in this region. God would punish peasants for their greed when they migrated and left their own lands uncared for. An interesting characteristic of Mama Pitu’s tales is the role of humans and animals. When humans did something that Pitu considered morally wrong, they became animals, and evil animals such as the condor disguised themselves as wealthy humans to deceive peasant women into marrying them. For example, a man who according to his wife did not have enough sex, became a bull who escaped to the lake to have sexual relations with cows. A land-owning lady who did not want to have relations with her husband left the house and had sexual relations with a horse, and so on. The tales were moral stories intended to teach that it is good to care for one’s partner within the family in order to not become animal-like.

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It is interesting that the boundaries between human and animal were blurred, and characters were able to move easily from one state to the other, resonating with Viveiros de Castro’s (2000) discussion of Amerindian perspectivism, a world view in which humans, animals and spirits share a common human condition but take different natural shapes while perceiving the world from a human perspective. However, different from Viveiros de Castro’s description of perspectivism, where changes in nature and point of view do not seem to be related to morality or they indicate a superior form of spirituality as when the shaman becomes a jaguar, Pitu’s tales describe a change of status from human to animal or from animal to human seemingly as a result of a moral failure. Mama Pitu seemed to be teaching children and youngsters what it takes to become fully human, for example, to take care of their partner or their land and to avoid leaving the land abandoned when traveling in search of the perceived amazing riches of migration, all this in order to avoid falling into animalism. Children and youngsters enjoyed these tales and laughed a lot, as they had many humorous elements. The kind of knowledge produced and preserved by Pitu resists an essentialist characterization and cannot be understood in opposition to ‘Western’ knowledge or to modernity. Pitu did not discuss her ‘Indigenous’ wisdom in opposition to modern life, and neither did she intend to contrast the two types of learning. Her teachings included historical lessons about the hacienda system and more contemporary warnings about the opportunities and dangers of migration and the fate of subsistence agriculture in such a situation. They were therefore very modern. The tales were not only stories of resistance and decolonization, but also included teachings about paternalism, the goodness of some masters, and the evils of others (see Scheper-­ Hugues, 1992, for a discussion of paternalism, good bosses and bad bosses). They are more like a complex expression of popular culture, full of contradictions, that includes the historical experiences of the group, their view about what it means to be human, the relation of villagers to surrounding nature as well as their forms of accommodation and resistance to different systems of oppression. We are dealing here with very complex manifestations of Indigenous worldviews that cannot be explored in depth here. Unfortunately, this important source of knowledge has not found a successful and complete articulation in the EIB school system yet. Although EIB aims to incorporate precisely this kind of knowledge into the formal education system, our observations in schools in three regions of Ecuador show that elders are neither invited often nor taken seriously by the EIB school system, and do not have a permanent or steady role in school pedagogies. One reason for this knowledge not to be fully incorporated is that elders lack formal education titles, and there are bureaucratic difficulties

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in including them in regular pedagogical activities. In addition, on the few occasions when we observed elders being invited to school activities, for example in a school in Cotachachi, Imbabura, the kind of knowledge that they were asked to convey was folkloric, focused on Indigenous festivities like Inti Raymy, or the traditional Andean celebration of the sun. Complex accounts like the one produced by Mama Pitu, that insert Indigenous experiences within modernity, and that include both strategies of resistance and accommodation, may challenge the essentialist sensitivities of some activists, teachers, as well as their non-Indigenous allies.

The Role of Indigenous Knowledge in the Intercultural University Although I have not done research in intercultural universities in Ecuador, I am going to discuss the pioneer work of Luis Cuji Llugna (2011) on higher education and interculturalism for the purpose of comparing the use of Indigenous and Western knowledge in EIB and in higher education. In his work Educación Superior e Interculturalidad, Cuji Llugna found some of the same tensions that I encountered in elementary education for the implementation and furthering of Indigenous knowledge, including language. Cuji Llugna studied two universities that defined themselves as intercultural, the Programa Académico Cotopaxi (Cotopaxi Academic Program), founded by Catholic Salesian missionaries to provide higher education to Indigenous peasants in the central highlands of Ecuador; and the Universidad Intercultural de las Nacionalidades y Pueblos Indígenas (UINPI, Intercultural University of Indigenous Nationalities and Peoples), designed and sponsored by CONAIE. Cuji Llugna argues that interculturalism has become an empty signifier that different actors understand and use in diverse ways within these institutions. He asserts that because many actors in these universities, particularly the students, are not aware of the academic discussions on interculturalism, they tend to use earlier understandings of diversity based on ideas of race, mestizaje (racial and cultural mixture) and Catholicism, among other currents of thought. For example, both professors and students tend to understand interculturalism as interaction between people of different phenotypes, as a mixture of race and culture that gives way to mestizaje, and as loving your brothers as you love yourself. Because academic discussions on interculturalism do not typically occur among teachers and students in these institutions, they tend to draw on everyday understandings of difference that come from earlier discourses diffused by the state or other agents. The problem with this, according to Cuji Llugna, is that everyday

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prejudices and stereotypes continue to be passed on even within these intercultural settings. Another important point that Cuji Llugna makes is that the more an intercultural university becomes institutionalized, the less intercultural it becomes. He found that comunidades de aprendizaje (learning communities) practised by UINPI, produced the most interesting experiences of inter­ culturalism in these universities. In learning communities, everyone in the community participated in teaching and learning regardless of whether they had an academic title. Indigenous knowledge had a prominent role within this experience. However, because of their characteristics, learning communities were not able to provide academic degrees and only gave certificates, diminishing their usefulness for students who wished to obtain a degree in order to find a job. The more that intercultural universities became institutionalized and responded to the requirements of national higher education boards in order to be allowed by the state to operate, the more they became like the other universities though they remained poorer in terms of resources and infrastructure. The professors needed to have academic degrees, and many of them were mestizos despite the fact that Indigenous professionals with degrees were available. This raises the question of whether intercultural institutions prefer mestizo professionals. Also, as the universities became institutionalized, the knowledge and curriculum became more conventional, more similar to those of other universities, but they still had fewer resources, and their professors worked in more precarious labor contract situations. An important feature of these universities is that they provide access to education for Indigenous and other rural people. They are cheaper than conventional universities and, more importantly, they only require the presence of students during weekends or vacations. According to Cuji Llugna, who conducted a survey with a number of students in these two universities, the majority of respondents had tried to enroll in a conventional university but lacked money and time, and had to work, and thus found the intercultural institutions more compatible with their lives. Cuji Llugna wrote that the students of these intercultural universities, Indigenous or not, demanded that they become more like a conventional university that teaches practical knowledge, with more infrastructure and a better quality of education. What they like about these intercultural institutions is that they protect the students from discrimination, they are cheaper and students can work while they study. With regard to culture and language, Cuji Llugna indicated that what was taught as Indigenous knowledge in these institutions was often elitist, not practical enough for their students and sometimes discriminatory. For example, some teachers of Indigenous knowledge in UINPI were urban mestizos,

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trained in conventional universities and disciplines. When they taught Indigenous knowledge, they assumed previous conventional knowledge that the students of these universities often did not have, making Indigenous teachings incomprehensible to them. In other instances, students did not see the practical use of some of the so-called Andean knowledge and technologies. For example, they speculated about how they could use Andean mathematics to measure a plot of land or build a house. This is another way that these teachings were elitist in Cuji Llugna’s view. Finally, some urban mestizo professors used the writings of other non-Indians (for example, Josef Easterman’s Filosofía Andina (Andean Philosophy) that Cuji Llugna found to be very influential in intercultural universities in Ecuador) to teach Indigenous students about Andean issues. They imposed on the students what it means to be Indigenous. In private, students disagreed with their professor’s teachings on Andeanness, but classroom power relations forced them to accept the outside definitions of what it means to be Indigenous that exoticized them and relegated their culture to the past. Similar to what happens in elementary intercultural education, in higher intercultural education native languages are not the medium of instruction, but are instead the content of specific language classes that often take place in Spanish. Furthermore, Cuji Llugna found that mestizo professors and mestizo students continued to be the leaders in intercultural institutions reproducing everyday racism. However, the author argued, the institutions have not thought about this or discussed this topic enough. When the issue of racism was raised, administrators made references to so-called ‘reverse racism’, or to the discrimination of mestizos by Indians. Therefore, similar to the elementary intercultural education system, Ecuador has intercultural higher education institutions where students demand ‘modern’ practical knowledge without racism, at a lower cost and adapted to the availability of time of those who work. The administrators of these systems are committed to providing Indigenous knowledge, but they do so using constructions of indigeneity by urban mestizos, which are not free of prejudices and stereotypes and which are then imposed on Indigenous students. According to Cuji Llugna, this is a worrisome form of symbolic violence because stereotypes are imposed on students while pretending to recognize their traditions and experiences.

Conclusion This chapter has sought to elucidate the historical fissures in the understanding of the role of Indigenous and Western forms of knowledge in EIB

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between the leaders and grassroots of Indigenous movements. The findings of this study suggest that the role and goals of the intercultural education system from the perspective of Indigenous leaders and their non-Indigenous allies differs from those of Indigenous parents and students. Since the 1960s and 1970s, non-Indigenous allies have promoted an education based on cultural preservation and Indigenous languages as a form of respect for Indigenous populations and as a well-meaning desire to preserve their cultural heritage. The implementation of these ideas has been uneven, though. In some cases, this is because those in charge of implementing them, grassroots Indigenous peoples and community teachers, have not been convinced about them. The grassroots of the Indigenous movement have demanded inclusion into the mainstream and the nation through literacy in the languages of power and the state such as Spanish, Math and, later, English and computers. They have also demanded access to education, and freedom from discrimination, as well as an education adapted to their particular circumstances. However, the leaders of Indigenous social movements have been located painfully in the middle: they have adopted the discourses of allies in order to get support and funding, but as people originating from marginalized and excluded sectors, they have also been aware of the importance of inclusion, access and respect. This would explain the contradictions between Indigenous leaders’ public discourses and their private statements and practices. In the case of intercultural higher education, when the institutions teach ‘Indigenous’ knowledge, it is a knowledge that is inaccessible to Indigenous people, of little practical use to them and mostly produced by outsiders. A folkloric understanding of indigeneity is also present in intercultural elementary schools. Some of the impulse for a reified recovery of indigeneity comes from outsiders, whereas insiders request access to outside knowledge. As Arnold and Hastorf (2008) have shown, Indigenous groups in the Andes have believed since pre-conquest times in the pertinence of the appropriation of the power, wisdom, and traditions of alien groups. This assimilation of alien energies and ideas has been an important component of their own Andean tradition. However, this does not mean that Indigenous knowledge and languages do not have a role in the school system, or in society, both Indigenous and mainstream branches. It is mostly Westerners who perceive Western ideas and indigeneity as oppositional concepts, particularly because Western thought tends to assign indigeneity to the past. The thought of Indigenous peoples tends to be holistic, and common Indigenous people perceive Western and Indigenous as complementary and not mutually exclusive. Both domains are appreciated as important sources of wisdom that can be used to live an individual’s life more fully. Furthermore, complex renditions

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of Indigenous knowledge such as Mama Pitu’s clearly show Indigenous peoples’ experiences inserted in modernity. Mama Pitu’s tales, however, may not be popular among activists and their non-Indigenous allies because they are not necessarily heroic tales of resistance to colonization, but also accounts of accommodation, survival and acceptance of paternalism. A combination of factors such as her tales not being always heroic and her credentials not having bureaucratic validation to work within the formal education system could conspire to preclude this interesting compendium of wisdom from being successfully articulated into the school system. In addition, the historical understanding of the school in Indigenous communities as the door that provides access to the state and socioeconomic mobility does not help either for this knowledge to be appropriated in institutional ways. Some of the difficulties in imprinting an Indigenous character in intercultural bilingual education seem to be connected to the difficulties of transforming something that is subaltern into something that is institutional, and thus, mainstream and to a certain degree dominant. Even those whom these intercultural systems are supposed to serve perceive both EIB and intercultural higher education as second-class, poor educational options. There are examples of mestizos being preferred over Indigenous teachers. In both cases, the most interesting experiences cannot be institutionalized because the producers of ideas do not have the appropriate titles and cannot be granted the appropriate diplomas. Bureaucracy, a creation of the state, seems not to be intercultural enough yet. It has been produced by a particular culture, the dominant one, and it creates procedural difficulties for the subaltern culture to empower itself. A great deal of this discussion relates to who controls the inter­ cultural educational system. Historically, well-intentioned non-Indigenous allies controlled the first experiences of intercultural bilingual education, although they intended to provide Indigenous people ample agency in them. They imprinted the emerging systems with goals of cultural and linguistic preservation. However, from their origins these systems showed tensions between these goals and the more practical aspirations of impoverished peasants. Later, Indigenous organizations gained autonomy to manage the system; an autonomy that was unique to Ecuador and that has not been achieved to the same degree in other Latin American countries. However, this autonomy was gained in a neoliberal context in which recognition was not accompanied by an adequate redistribution of funding for these projects. This poverty of funding contributed to the perception of EIB as a second-class option. In addition, greater control by the organizations may have intensified the contradictions between what was stated, cultural and linguistic preservation and what was taught in schools. In any case, in a situation of restricted budgets, organizations needed more than ever the

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funds of nongovernmental organizations and international cooperation and thus had to give lip service to the goals of these external agents like language and cultural preservation. More recently, Indigenous organizations have lost their relative autonomy, and a technocratic state designs and implements ‘interculturalism’ for Indigenous people. The consequences of this last change for intercultural education are not yet well studied and understood. Based on these reflections, a number of lessons can be drawn in an effort to improve intercultural, bilingual education in Ecuador. First, education policy makers must listen to the demands of grassroots Indigenous peoples for access to mainstream, practical knowledge that is useful for them in the modern world. Second, educational experiences have to keep working on systems that are free from discrimination and flexible enough to adapt to the demanding and changing living conditions of Indigenous populations. Third, complex Indigenous knowledge should be more efficiently integrated into formal education by removing the bureaucratic barriers and the essentialist understandings that may preclude its appropriation. Finally, Indigenous knowledge has to be characterized as a different rendition of modernity. These are not novel ideas; on the contrary, past experiences of intercultural education in Ecuador have already tried to implement many of these principles. However, work still needs to be done to bring down some barriers in order to create a more egalitarian and intercultural society.

Acknowledgments I thank FLACSO, Ecuador, the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research (2008 Post-PhD grant), and a project of the Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad of Spain titled ‘Hegemonia, dominación y administración de poblaciones en América Latina’ (CSO2011-23521) led by Víctor Bretón, for the funding of different stages of this research. I am also grateful to Regina Cortina and the anonymous reviewer of Multilingual Matters for their suggestions to improve the chapter.

Notes (1) This is a socioeconomic system based on large land holdings in which Indigenous peasants were subjected to servitude. (2) The sentences were translated into English by Martínez Novo. (3) A current within the Catholic Church that originates in Council Vatican II (1963– 1965). Liberation Theology takes a preferential option for the poor and emphasizes their liberation in this world, as well as the need to struggle against the structures of oppression. (4) Translation by Martínez Novo. (5) Translation by Martínez Novo.

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References Arnold, D. and Hastorf, C. (2008) Heads of State. Icons, Power, and Politics in the Ancient and Modern Andes. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Arnold, D. and Yapita, J. (2006) The Metamorphosis of Heads: Textual Struggles, Education, and Land in the Andes. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press. Atamaint, K. (2007) ¿Educación intercultural bilingüe para los indígenas? Unpublished manuscript prepared for the project, Racism and Citizenship in the Ecuadorian Edu­ cational System, directed by Carmen Martínez Novo and Carlos de la Torre. Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-Ecuador. Becker, M. (2012) In Search of Tinterillos. Latin American Research Review 47 (1), 95–114. Burgos, H. (1977) Relaciones interétnicas en Riobamba. Quito, Ecuador: Corporación Editora Nacional. Canessa, A. (2004) Reproducing racism: Schooling and race in Highland Bolivia. Race, Ethnicity and Education 7 (2), 185–204. Cevallos, R. (2007) Informe de la investigación Racismo y Ciudadanía en el sistema de educación básica ecuatoriano. Unpublished manuscript prepared for the project Rac­ ism and Citizenship in the Ecuadorian Educational System directed by Carmen Martínez Novo and Carlos de la Torre. Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-Ecuador. Correa, R. (18 February 2009) Executive Decree 1585 (On the transfer of the Intercultural Bilingual Education System to the Ministry of Education). See www. sigob.gob.ec/ decretos/ (accessed March 2009). Cuji Llugna, L.F. (2011) Educación superior e interculturalidad. Master’s thesis, FLACSO-­ Ecuador, Quito, Ecuador. Das, V. and Poole D. (2004) Anthropology in the Margins of the State. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press. de la Torre, C. (1996) El racismo en el Ecuador. Experiencias de los indios de clase media. Quito, Ecuador: CAAP. de la Torre, C. (2000) Racism in education and the construction of citizenship in Ecuador. Race and Class 42 (2), 33–45. Freire, P. (2000 [1968]) Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Thirtieth Anniversary Edition). New York: Continuum Press. García, M.E. (2005) Making Indigenous Citizens: Identities, Education, and Multicultural Development in Peru. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Guerrero, A. (2000) El proceso de identificación: Sentido común ciudadano, ventriloquía y transescritura. In A. Guerrero (ed.) Etnicidades (pp. 9–61). Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-­ Ecuador. Haboud, M. (2004) Quichua language vitality: An Ecuadorian perspective. International Journal of Sociology of Language 167, 69–81. Illicachi, J. (2007) Discriminación discursiva y dominación étnica en la educación. Unpublished manuscript prepared for the project Racism and Citizenship in the Ecuadorian Educational System directed by Carmen Martínez Novo and Carlos de la Torre. Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-Ecuador. Jackson, J. and Warren, K. (2005) Indigenous movements in Latin America, 1992–2004: Controversies, ironies, new directions. Annual Review of Anthropology 34, 549–573. Ley Orgánica de Educación Intercultural (LOEI). Ministerio de Educación del Ecuador. See www.educacion.gob.ec.

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Lyons, B.J. (2006) Remembering the Hacienda. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Maldonado, G. (2004) Comerciantes y viajeros. Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-Ecuador. Martínez Novo, C. (2004) Los misioneros salesianos y el movimiento indígena de Cotopaxi, 1970–2004. Ecuador Debate 63, 235–268. Martínez Novo, C. (2006) Who defines Indigenous? New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Martínez Novo, C. (2007) ¿Es el multiculturalismo estatal un factor de profundización de la democracia en América Latina?: Una reflexión desde la etnografía de los casos de México y Ecuador. I.V. Bretón, F. García, A. Jové, M.J. Villalta (eds) Ciudadanía y exclusión: Ecuador y España frente al espejo (pp. 182–203). Madrid, Spain: Catarata. Martínez Novo, C. and de la Torre, C. (2010) Racial discrimination and citizenship in Ecuador’s educational system. Latin American and Caribbean Ethnic Studies 5 (1), 1–26. Ministerio de Educación y Cultura (1993) Modelo de educación intercultural bilingüe. Quito, Ecuador: Ministerio de Educación. Ministerio de Educación del Ecuador (March 2009) El gobierno de la Revolución Ciudadana fortalece la educación intercultural bilingüe. See www-educacion.gob.ec (accessed March 2009). Pérez Anrango, R. (2007) Tierra comunitaria de Tunibamba por fin eres nuestra. Quito: Fundación Pueblo Indio del Ecuador. Postero, N. and Zamosc, L. (2004) The Struggle for Indigenous Rights in Latin America. Brighton, UK: Sussex Academic Press. Ramón, G. (1991) Ese secreto poder de la escritura. In D. Cornejo (ed.) Indios. Quito, Ecuador: ILDIS. Scheper-Hugues, N. (1992) Death Without Weeping: The Violence of Everyday Life in Brazil. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Sieder, R. (2002) Multiculturalism in Latin America: Indigenous Rights, Diversity, and Democ­ racy. Hampshire, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Tuaza, L.A. (2010) Interviews with Petrona Pilamunga, Cicalpito, Chimborazo. Unpublished data. Uzendoski, M. (2009) La textualidad oral napo kichwa y las paradojas de la educación bilingüe intercultural en la Amazonía. In C. Martínez Novo (ed.) Repensando los movimientos indígenas (pp. 147–172). Quito, Ecuador: FLACSO-Ecuador. Viveiros de Castro, E. (2000) Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism. Journal of Royal Anthropological Institute 4, 469–488. Warren, K. and Jackson, J. (2003) Indigenous Movements, Self Representation, and the State in Latin America. Austin: University of Texas Press. Yánez Cossío, C. (1996) La educación indígena en Ecuador. Quito, Ecuador: Abya Yala. Yashar, D.J. (2005) Contesting Citizenship in Latin America: The Rise of Indigenous Movements and the Postliberal Challenge. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

5 Indigenous Students as Graduates of Higher Education Institutions in Mexico Sylvia Schmelkes Introduction In spite of the massive expansion of higher education in Mexico during the last 50 years, the number of citizens who attend college remains low compared with other Latin American countries. According to recent figures, roughly 30% of the population in the 19–23 age group is enrolled in higher education institutions (Tuirán & Avila, 2012).1 Moreover, higher education is very selective and excludes large sectors of the population. Indigenous peoples represent between 10% and 15% of the national population, depending on how Indigenous is defined, and only 1%–3% of them are represented in higher education institutions. Furthermore, Indigenous peoples are also excluded from the higher levels of secondary education (Ahuja & Schmelkes, 2004), though their enrollment is slowly increasing and will probably continue to do so now that higher secondary education has been decreed compulsory and should be universal by 2022. Steps have been taken in recent years to increase the higher education opportunities for Indigenous peoples as a result of pressures on decision makers from Indigenous organizations, international bodies and national intellectuals to increase higher education equality. For example, the Ford Foundation fostered a program for the academic support of Indigenous students in participating universities and it has now been taken over by the National Association of Universities and Higher Education Institutions (Asociación de Universidades e Instituciones de Educación Superior) (ANUIES, 2012). More importantly, between 2004 and 2007, nine intercultural universities were established in Indigenous regions and targeted primarily toward Indigenous students (SEP, 2005). As a consequence of these measures and of the natural increase of Indigenous students in conventional institutions, 124

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and there is a growing number of Indigenous graduates from higher education institutions. Moreover, studies about Indigenous students in higher education institutions are increasing, particularly since intercultural universities, which primarily serve Indigenous students, were established. Nevertheless, very little is still known about Indigenous students attending higher education institutions in Mexico and in Latin America, and less still about their post-graduation lives (Mato, 2008; Schmelkes, 2009a). The study presented in this chapter attempts to fill this research gap by exploring the paths followed by Indigenous people as university students and as graduates entering the labor market.

Programs for Increasing Indigenous Participation in Higher Education The study presented here identified three different programs for promoting Indigenous enrollment: Pathways to Higher Education, private Jesuit universities and intercultural universities. They are described below.

Pathways to Higher Education/program for supporting Indigenous students in higher education Pathways to Higher Education was financed during its initial stage by the Ford Foundation and was taken over by the National Association of Universities and Higher Education Institutions (Asociación Nacional de Universidades e Institutos de Educación Superior (ANUIES)), with the title, Program for Supporting Indigenous Students in Higher Education (Programa de Apoyo a Estudiantes Indígenas en Instituciones de Educación Superior (PAEIIES)) (ANUIES, 2012). Pathways to Higher Education was launched by Ford in 2001 in several countries and reached 125 higher education institutions across the world (The Ford Foundation, 2012), with the goal of supporting both the enrollment and retention of minority students in higher education institutions. The program offered a vast array of support for minority students, such as the lowering and/or modifying of the admissions requirements of the institutions, precollege training, tutoring, special academic support for courses or areas in which students had difficulty, easy access to computers and possibly to courses requiring computer access and, in general, social and affective support and a peer group composed of other minority students with whom they could engage in social activities. In Mexico, Pathways to Higher Education was focused on Indigenous students and public universities

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that competed for, and were accepted by, the Ford Foundation to receive funding. The program, which did not include financial support for the students, operated in Mexico until 2008 and has now reached its conclusion at the Ford Foundation at the global level. ANUIES’ replacement, PAEIIES, operates in 24 (out of over 800) public universities throughout Mexico, also offering academic, but not financial, support to Indigenous students. ANUIES offers some economic support to universities, although the program is mostly financed by the universities themselves. The study discussed here focuses on 3 of the 24 universities: the Universidad Autónoma de Nayarit, the Universidad Veracruzana and the Centro de Estudios Universitarios de Sonora (CESUES)-Navojoa campus.

Private Jesuit universities: Universidad Solidaria and Pedro Arrupe Another type of special program for supporting Indigenous students both financially (e.g. scholarships and housing) and academically is hosted by two Jesuit universities in Mexico. One such program, Universidad Solidaria, is hosted by the Technological Institute of Higher Education of the West (Insti­ tuto Tecnológico de Estudios Superiores de Occidente (ITESO)), in Guadalajara, Jalisco. A second is Pedro Arrupe,2 hosted by the Universidad Iberoamericana in Puebla. They are different but operate according to the same philosophy: the objective is for the Indigenous students who finish their academic training to return to work in their communities of origin. In the case of the ITESO, an agreement is signed with the Indigenous communities: the communities select the students to be sent to study and ITESO provides them with academic support throughout their education. The community decides what type of professionals they need to be educated and what the graduates will do upon their return to the Indigenous community. In the case of Puebla, the situation is similar: the community is also involved, but the agreement to return to the community is signed by the student.

Intercultural universities The third program comprises intercultural universities that were promoted during the Vicente Fox administration (2000–2006). Currently, there are ten public intercultural universities and they operate in regions where the proportion of Indigenous population is large; thus they service, mainly though not exclusively, the Indigenous population. The programs that the universities offer are supposed to respond to the needs and the potential of the regions where they are situated. Some of them offer courses such as Sustainable Development, Intercultural Communications, Language and Culture, Cultural Tourism and Intercultural Medicine. The objective of the universities

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is for students to remain or return to their region of origin to work for the cultural, educational and economic development of their communities. In these universities, Indigenous languages are taught and their use is fostered, and Indigenous cultures constitute an area for research and are very highly valued. The universities are publicly financed with both Federal and State resources. The first university created, the Universidad Intercultural del Estado de México (the Intercultural University of the State of Mexico), began operating in 2004. Since it is the only intercultural university that had graduates during the time of this study, it is the only university included in the sample.

Higher Education Programs for Indigenous Students The issue of higher education for Indigenous students is quickly growing in importance in Latin America, and Mexico is no exception. In 2003, 43 projects aimed at increasing the opportunities of Indigenous peoples within higher education institutions in Latin America were presented at a seminar organized in Mexico (Secretaría de Educación Pública-Coordinación General de Educación Intercultural y Bilingüe (SEP-CGEIB), 2004). Only a few of these projects were actually operating; the rest were still at the development stage. By 2009, the number of projects had more than doubled: Daniel Mato (2009) identified more than one hundred in operation, and developed the following typology of existing programs: (1) Programs that include Indigenous students in conventional higher education institutions and are generally restricted to admitting Indigenous students. (2) Programs within conventional higher education institutions for the education of Indigenous students and communities that respond to specific needs and demands. They imply important adaptations of the conventional institutions to Indigenous students and their needs or to the requests of Indigenous communities in their geographical area of influence. Adaptations include waiving admission requirements, introducing special academic support and establishing special academic programs for Indigenous students. (3) Programs developed by conventional higher education institutions for Indigenous peoples and their communities on their languages and cultures. Sometimes initiated by the universities themselves and sometimes responding to Indigenous peoples’ initiatives, they aim to increase students’ knowledge of Indigenous languages and cultures and at the same time increase the value that both Indigenous communities and the larger society place on them.

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(4) Alliances formed between universities or between a university and an Indigenous community or group to respond to specific needs and demands, for the education of Indigenous students or communities. They usually take the form of specific development projects that include the professional preparation of members of the community. Sometimes these studies are certified but in many instances they are not because the students have not completed the necessary previous academic levels. (5) Conventional higher education institutions that, due to their geographic location, do in fact offer Indigenous students higher education opportunities, although they do not offer programs specifically designed for such students. (6) Intercultural higher education institutions, such as those in Mexico that were described above. There are intercultural universities in Peru, Columbia, Bolivia and Ecuador. All these program types exist in Mexico. Programs that are restricted to Indigenous students and programs that make adaptations to cater to Indigenous students are perhaps the most representative (types 1 and 2). Institutions that makes adaptations to Indigenous students (type 2) are best represented by the universities that have incorporated the Pathways to Higher Education program, now operated by ANUIES, as indicated above. The program offers academic support to Indigenous students and in some cases also make entry requirements more flexible. This academic affirmative action program has already been evaluated (Didou & Remedi, 2006) and findings show that it does increase opportunities for Indigenous students in higher education institutions and also decreases the probability of their dropping out. Findings also indicate that in some cases the program forces Indigenous self-identification – the students must acknowledge being Indigenous – which some Indigenous students view as stereotyping, particularly when other students with similar needs in the same university feel unjustly excluded from the benefits of the program. Other cases show, however, that the program has led students, who no longer speak an Indigenous language but who belong to an Indigenous people, to rediscover their Indigenous identity. With the expansion of higher education institutions, conventional institutions that de facto include Indigenous students (type 5) are growing in importance: a national NGO recently identified 100 universities located in highly Indigenous regions that offer a bachelor’s degree in law. Less frequently, there are programs in conventional universities designed for, or developed with, Indigenous peoples or communities. As noted above, the

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first Intercultural University in Mexico (type 6) was created in 2003 and began operating in 2004. There are now 10 public and two private universities of this kind, with an enrollment of almost 10,000 students, of which approximately 80% are Indigenous. In Mexico, it is still unknown if these initiatives have increased the number and proportion of Indigenous students in higher education institutions since, with the exception of type 2 and type 6 institutions, students are never asked if they are Indigenous. Many Indigenous students attend institutions that are restricted to Indigenous students (type 2) and conventional universities that de facto include Indigenous students (type 5), but neither their numbers nor their proportion of the student body is now known, since the institutions involved do not collect this information and the State does not require it. During many years, there were no Indigenous students in the university, so ethnic origin was not considered important data. When Indigenous students began attending conventional universities, many considered it offensive to be asked about their ethnicity. For the universities themselves, recruiting Indigenous students was not a matter of pride, so ethnic or linguistic origin was a question still not posed to students upon enrollment, and it is the reason why information on the true percentage of Indigenous students enrolled in higher education is not available. Never­theless, it seems clear that the participation of Indigenous students in higher education is becoming more important and more visible.

An Investigation: The University and Career Pathways of Indigenous Peoples The remainder of this chapter describes and discusses a study that explores the paths followed by Indigenous people as university students and as labor market participants.

Frame of reference: The inequality of Indigenous peoples’ education The study’s main frame of reference is the educational inequality of Indigenous peoples. This inequality explains why even the very select Indigenous students who have access to higher education had already been victims of an unequal educational system that is reflected in the quality of previous learning and of competencies needed for success in higher education. Indigenous peoples in Mexico lag behind in every single indicator of social and economic development vis-à-vis other sectors of the population.

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The Human Development Index, which is a composite measure for health, education and income expressed as a value between 0 and 1,3 for the Indigenous population is 0.7057, while for the non-Indigenous population it is 0.8304, a difference of 15%. This gap is present for all components of the index, for example, health and income.4 Highly marginal regions are predominantly Indigenous and living conditions with respect to health, education, employment and income, among other quality of life matters, are clearly inadequate (Programa de Naciones Unidas para el Desarrollo (PNUD), 2010). With respect to educational inequality, the following data are eloquent: two out of every three children between ages 6 and 14 who are not in school are Indigenous. The illiteracy rate of the population speaking an Indigenous language (27%) is five times greater than that of the Spanish-speaking population (5.4%) (Instituto Nacional de Geografía y Estadística (INEGI), 2011). Of the population speaking an Indigenous language and age 15 or older, 28% did not finish their primary education, while the rate of noncompletion for Spanish-speakers is 6% (INEGI, 2006). However, progress has been made in recent years: the Indigenous population between ages 6 and 14 that is not attending school has been reduced to 8.3% (compared with 4.9% of the Spanish-speaking population) (INEGI, 2006). But the gap still persists, and it implies that in the years to come, contrary to the future of the individuals who are non-Indigenous, a lower percentage of Indigenous students will be in a position to gain access to higher education. It also means that Indigenous peoples will continue to live in poorer social and economic conditions than the non-Indigenous population. Qualitatively, Indigenous peoples are learning less in school. In all recent assessments of educational achievement, children who attend Indigenous primary schools always perform more poorly than students at other types of primary schools. The achievement gap between students attending Indigenous schools and students attending private schools is almost 50% (Instituto Nacional para la Evaluación de la Educación, 2006, 2007). Students who speak an Indigenous language also score lower on PISA than those who do not. In part, these lower results are explained by the higher poverty rates of the Indigenous population, but this is not the whole picture. The Mexican educational system also plays an important role in three ways: (1) it invests less in Indigenous schools: they have the worst infrastructure, teachers lack teaching degrees and they are supplied with scarce pedagogical resources (Instituto Nacional para la Evaluación de la Educación, 2007). (2) Spanish is used instead of other languages – castellanización – in the school curriculum; schools either teach directly in Spanish or use the Indigenous language only instrumentally and only until students can understand enough Spanish to follow a monolingual class in this language. Finally, (3) it is expected that

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Indigenous schools will follow a homogeneous national curriculum that is quite foreign to Indigenous students’ daily lives and is not relevant to them, thereby compromising their interest and perseverance in school (Schmelkes, 2009b). With regard to castellanización, when the Ministry of Education was first created in 1921, after the first social revolution of the 20th century, teachers were sent to the rural areas, which were then mainly Indigenous, with the explicit instruction to teach Spanish and in Spanish, not in the students’ native languages. Vasconcelos, the first Secretary of Education, considered that being Indigenous was an obstacle for participation in the country’s development. For him, the mestizo – the mixed heritage of Indigenous and the Spanish – was the ideal Mexican type. Schools were the instrument for creating ‘cultural mestizos’, that is, individuals who decided to abandon their native culture and language and to embrace the national culture and Spanish as their language. While this philosophy has changed in discourse, in practice it is still operative in Mexican schools that operate in Indigenous regions. These factors partly explain the present inequalities in higher education opportunities for Indigenous students described above. In the year 2000, only 3.5% of the Indigenous population had a university degree, in contrast with 10.5% of the non-Indigenous population (Casillas & Santini, 2006). Although no recent comparable information exists, and the situation has probably improved in the last 10–12 years, the university graduates sampled in this study are survivors of severe obstacles in their efforts to obtain a higher education degree. Both cause and consequence of a homogenizing basic education curriculum, are racism (Schmelkes, 2009c) and stigmatization (Goffman, 1998), and the unwillingness of some Indigenous peoples to identify themselves as such when in contact with members of the dominant culture. Also, many studies report on the acculturating nature of education in general, and of higher education in particular; and of its mestizizing impulse. Such a change in identity, and also of the development of multiple identities, was framed as a consequence of higher education. Hybridization (Dietz, 2004), and the development of ‘cultural interpreters’, were also considered in this study’s framework as possible developments in Indigenous students at higher education institutions. The conception of ‘self ’ and of ‘others’ was explored among both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. Thus, this study also delved into the issue of identity (García Canclini, 2004; Gimenez, 2007). Specifically, the study researched whether and how prejudice, discrimination and racism played a role in the graduates’ trajectories throughout their studies in higher education institutions and in their experiences within the

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labor market. Further, it explored prejudice and discrimination with respect to gender. Regarding experiences of racism and discrimination, most Indigenous students were chastised for speaking their mother tongue in school. In a recent course that I gave at an intercultural university in the low Mixe region of Oaxaca, seven out of the eight Indigenous students in the class reported experiencing punishment in school for speaking in their native language. The eighth student, who had studied in a city, had been a victim of discrimination for ethnic, rather than linguistic, reasons. In Chiapas, there are still signs on the corridor walls in middle schools that read: Prohibido hablar dialecto: It is forbidden to speak in dialect. Telesecundarias, a distance education alternative for middle schools with a core curriculum taught through television that mostly caters to Indigenous communities, instructs their teachers not to allow the use of Indigenous languages in the schools. Those who attended a school that also had Spanish-speaking students were often discriminated against by them and also by their teachers. Prejudice is prevalent in Mexican society; therefore, Indigenous peoples also experience numerous instances of discrimination in government offices, in the labor market, in the market where they sell their products or buy their basic staples, in the market for agricultural credit, and in all means of public transportation – such as being laughed at publicly. In many cases, such treatment has driven Indigenous peoples to hide their identity. Mastery of Spanish plays a key role in enabling this, since in Mexico, due to a very intense process of mestizaje – the mix of Indigenous and Spanish – over the years, it is impossible to distinguish an Indigenous person from a mestizo through physical attributes. In Mexico, in contrast with other Latin American Indigenous peoples, very few Indigenous groups have an Indigenous last name, so they cannot be identified by their name, as occurs with the Quechuas and Aymaras in the Central Andes, with the Mapuches in Chile, and in Guatemala with the Mayans, what Howard (2007) calls onomasiological positioning. So in Mexico, becoming a mestizo can be a cultural decision, so much so that society expects it and schools are seen as the avenue toward achieving that identity. Those who decide not to become mestizos after learning Spanish and going to school are considered stupid, and blame is placed on them for being poor. Schooling has been a key factor in this process of identity mutation, so this study sought to find out how earlier negative school experiences affected the Indigenous university students and graduates who had them. Also, the research sought to discover whether prejudice, discrimination and racism were experienced by the students during their university studies and afterward, when entering the labor market and holding a job.

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Ideally, higher education should act as an equalizing mechanism for enabling all students to have similar learning outcomes and equipping them with similar competencies for living a full and dignified economic, political, social and cultural life in the place of their choosing. Also ideally, higher education should be able to achieve these outcomes without eradicating cultural identities; on the contrary, it should become an important avenue for strengthening personal identities and for instilling pride of belonging. Higher education should act as an enriching intercultural experience – not only for Indigenous students, but for all members of the university community – through the possibility of knowing, interacting with, and learning from culturally different community members. The study explores the distance of the present situation in Mexican universities that include Indigenous students from this ‘ideal type’.

The nature of the study The study was exploratory and mainly qualitative. In-depth interviews were conducted with the graduates and basic frequencies of general data were computed. The limitation of this part of the investigation was the fact that only the students who succeeded in finishing their higher education were interviewed. A second part of the study is now being carried out that includes interviews with students who dropped out, but results are not yet ready and are only partially reported in this chapter.

The background and demographics of the study’s students The sample of students interviewed for this study was not probabilistic. In most of the universities, with the exception of the intercultural university, there are very few Indigenous graduates. Students were interviewed based on their availability and through a snowball procedure, which is a nonprobability method used when the desired sample characteristic is rare. Snowball sampling relies on referrals from initial subjects to generate additional subjects (StatPac, 2012).  In five of the six universities selected for this study (with the exception of the Veracruzana University), both Indigenous and non-Indigenous graduates were interviewed, for a total of 75 graduates, 52 Indigenous and 6 non-Indigenous, in the six institutions. Women comprised 43% of the Indigenous interviewees. While 82% of the students understood an indigenous language, 63% also spoke one. These percentages are very similar to those of the graduates’ parents, indicating that knowledge of the

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Indigenous language has not decreased between generations. However, regarding the intercultural university graduates, the number of students who understood and spoke an Indigenous language was higher than that of their parents. This is a consequence of the language teaching and valuing activities of this type of university. The graduates in the sample, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, varied widely in the level of their family’s education. In the case of Indigenous students, 71% of their fathers and 62% of their mothers had only a primary education or less. For non-Indigenous students, the educational attainment difference was very significant: parents with a primary education or less represented only 17% and 22%, respectively. Fully half of the parents of Indigenous students were dedicated to economic activities in the primary sector (mainly agriculture and cattle rearing), indicating their rural origins. Their main monthly family income was around $500, while the family income of non-Indigenous students was three times as much.

Findings about the pathways of Indigenous peoples The study’s findings cover the three areas of investigation: students’ experiences while attending a university, their later experiences in the workforce and in their community of origin and their sense of identity and how their higher education experience might have changed it.

Students’ university experiences

The study found important differences among Indigenous graduates of the three types of higher education institutions. More Indigenous graduates who were born in urban areas attended public universities than Jesuit universities or the intercultural university. Most of the graduates who were born in rural areas attended the latter two types of universities. Also, the array of courses offered by the university seemed to influence the students’ choice of program. In the universities located in rural areas, the choice of program was always their second or only option. Instead, in the larger universities, Indigenous students chose what they wanted to study. For example, in Puebla, the students chose their program because they wanted to earn ‘good money’. The Wixaritari5 students at ITESO were the exception: they followed the course that the community selected, since it was the community that sent them to the university for the purpose of receiving an education useful for the community. The Wixaritari are considered one of the ‘purer’ Mexican peoples in the country, among other things because they conserve their original religion practically intact, because everyone in their

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communities speaks the Indigenous language, including all the children, and because their traditions (pilgrimages and festivities as well as many others) are vividly and extensively practiced. A second finding confirms the hypothesis regarding the poor quality of the previous training of Indigenous students. Graduates reported having had academic difficulties, particularly in Mathematics and English, and they attributed them to their poor educational background. English courses in universities assumed previous training in English, which was something Indigenous students, especially those from rural areas, did not have. The lack of mastery of the English language was a clear disadvantage in the labor market. However, though the study considered only successful students, the aforementioned academic difficulties rarely were the cause of interrupted careers. In these cases at least, the issue was the academic resilience of Indigenous students in higher education. A third finding concerns the economic situation of Indigenous interviewees while they were students. With the exception of graduates from the Iberoamericana University in Puebla, who received tuition, free food and housing, all had to work while they studied. Economic difficulties caused disruptions in student careers. In some cases, successful students had to interrupt their studies for more than a year in order to work. This is true in spite of the fact that all the graduates from public universities had a National Program of Scholarships for Higher Education (Programa Nacional de Becas para la Educación Superior (PRONABES)) scholarship granted by the Federal government in an amount of approximately $60 a month, which was clearly insufficient. There was some interaction between economic and academic difficulties due to the tension of maintaining a high academic average in order to retain the scholarship, but the impact of the students’ financial hardships was not as great as expected. A fourth finding is related to discrimination. A difference was found between the type of university and the prevalence of discrimination based on students’ ethnic characteristics. In the public universities, contrary to my initial hypothesis, practically no discrimination was reported. This result is confirmed by other recent studies of Indigenous students in public higher education institutions. Gómez Gallegos (2012) studied Indigenous students at a technological university in Mexico and, in spite of the fact that the object of the study was originally interethnic relations in the university, the main conclusion was that relationships among students and with the teachers were generally not explained by ethnicity. The author found that, although students considered themselves Indigenous and were proud of their origins, they mingled with non-Indigenous students on an equal basis. This certainly is important information since it indicates that the present

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situation in public universities had characteristics close to those identified in the ‘ideal type’. In the Jesuit universities, however, discrimination was silent, excluding and subtle. Indigenous students find it difficult to be accepted in student teams that were established for research or other academic purposes; if they were included, they were given most of the workload. Other acts of discrimination included students greeting other non-Indigenous students with a kiss on the cheek but avoiding such contact with Indigenous students. Indigenous students felt they were not welcome in groups of non-­ Indigenous students. Non-Indigenous students did not understand Indigenous students’ characteristic shyness or their lack of participation in class. Indigenous students therefore reacted by self-segregating or isolating themselves to avoid feeling uncomfortable. Although this observation requires further study, in the intercultural university, non-Indigenous students mentioned feeling left out of University life because they did not speak an Indigenous language. Graduates who attended the intercultural university felt strong discrimination from the wider community. This university was considered poor, inadequate and of low quality because its instructors taught ‘dialects’, which is the derogatory way of referring to Indigenous languages because the implication is that they are not languages. Graduates mentioned that they had quarreled with some of their friends because of this approach. Discrimination added to the normal difficulties all graduates from rural areas faced in adapting to university life. In public universities, graduates reported that they found it hard to get used to the city and the food. In private universities, where most Indigenous students came from rural areas, graduates also spoke of the adaptation process as a long and painful one, lasting from one to two years, which was on average what it took to establish relationships with the rest of the students. Graduates reported going through a culture shock in the initial process of adaptation. They found it difficult to understand the liberal behavior and the relaxed religious practices of their fellow students. It took them time to get used to using cutlery to eat and to the way of dressing.6 In the end, however, adaptation was achieved by all the successful students, and graduates established lasting relationships with other students, Indigenous and non-Indigenous. For the fifth finding, the study investigated gender discrimination and did not find it in university life or the labor market. Interviewees revealed, however, that they had experienced gender discrimination before entering the university. It was the women’s parents, particularly their fathers, who did not want their daughters to study. Women had to overcome immense obstacles in order to be able to go to the university. Women also faced opposition

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from others. For example, one female graduate was a domestic servant before she entered the university and her employer asserted that it was not her place to continue her studies and that she should stay where she was. As a consequence of the struggle women faced when deciding to attend a university, once they achieved their goal they were strongly empowered and the university experience strengthened them even more. Gaining autonomy and freedom to express themselves, they became critical of their culture and consciously made changes in the way they reared their children, in the style of their homes, in their dress and in their daily life. They were very proud of having finished their studies and their self-esteem was high. Also, they were aware of the fact that they were opening the path to other girls in a similar situation who wanted to study and they consciously took on the responsibility of not failing them. For Indigenous students the university experience was difficult for reasons related to their academic studies, which they eventually overcame; for economic reasons, which on occasions caused the temporary interruption of studies; for issues about adapting to city life, mostly in the case of rural students; for the culture shock caused by intense contact with a different way of life; and, finally, for reasons of discrimination, particularly in private universities. However, the successful students seemed to overcome these difficulties. In spite of these challenges, the university experience was highly valued by all graduates, but at the same time they maintained a critical view of what they had gone through, as well as of the university itself. Though they valued the experience, they were not totally satisfied with the education they received. Students commented on the excessive theoretical emphasis of university studies. The graduates of the intercultural university were very proud of being in its first graduating class, but they were acutely aware of the problems implied in being the first (e.g. lack of good teachers, improvised buildings and insufficient equipment).

Graduates’ workforce experiences

A sixth and very important result of the study is the fact that for the Indigenous graduates who remained in the cities, university studies fulfilled an equalizing function. Job opportunities for Indigenous graduates depended on the geographical location of the university. In large cities, the opportunities for getting a job were more or less equal among Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. No large differences were observed in the ease or difficulty with which they found work, in the match between their job and their university training, or even in income, though the income of the Indigenous interviewees who remained in urban areas was somewhat below that of non-Indigenous graduates.

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In small cities such as Navojoa, middle-sized cities such as Tepic, and in rural communities such as San Felipe del Progreso, the location of the intercultural university, getting a job was hard for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. The smaller the city, the less stable and more poorly remunerated the jobs. For graduates from these universities, migration was necessary for getting a job but was not always accepted as an option by graduates. Discrimination in the labor market was not found in the states of Nayarit, Veracruz, Puebla or Sonora. In Jalisco, however, all non-Indigenous graduates found better jobs than Indigenous graduates. This seems to be a consequence of an explicit choice by Indigenous graduates, who preferred to work in more poorly paid but culturally or socially relevant jobs. Returning to their communities was not the choice of the majority but was considered and used as an option. This was not the case of graduates of universities located in rural areas. For rural university graduates, finding a job was very difficult and their salaries were extremely low. What made a difference to employment, income and further social mobility opportunities, however, seems to be the geographical location of the university, not the ethnicity of the graduates. This finding raises a serious question about the strategy of intercultural universities, practically all of which are located in rural and densely Indigenous-­ populated areas, and the geographic diversification policy of higher education in Mexico. It would seem that an important balance in regional development is required if university graduates from small cities and rural areas are to be productive and/or find jobs in their regions of origin. As of now, the alternatives for graduates are to take a poor-paying job or initiate a small personal enterprise with little or no support from private or public institutions, or to migrate to a larger city. These employment problems constitute no minor challenge to higher education institutions in these regions, since the failure to ensure employment for their graduates will eventually undermine their standing and prestige. The question seems to merit reflection and the development of policies that incorporate other sectors beyond education. In job-creating enterprises and opportunities, the design of social development programs that respond to regional needs, all of which are recommended in order to achieve a more balanced regional development in the country, should be articulated with the mid-term planning of university programs. Also, universities should contribute to the placing of students in career-­related opportunities. Indigenous students who returned to their communities of origin after graduation also faced numerous problems. Generally, they began their own business there or tried to return to till the land with new techniques. They

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found no economic or technical support for their endeavors and their income was significantly lower than that of graduates who remained in the city. A most interesting and surprising result regarding those who returned to their community was that by the time they returned they were culturally transformed. The community noticed these changes and often reacted negatively to the returnees or openly rejected them. A graduate couple from the Jesuit university in Puebla returned to their community in the Nahua region in the north of Puebla and opened a stationery store and photo­copying business, but they built their house differently from existing houses, with a linoleum floor and a bathroom inside. Their house became an object of criticism from the members of the community: ‘If he is an Indian the same as I am, why should he be rich’? a community member was heard to say. Another example concerns the couple’s son, who was in preschool. The community organized a big party for children who finished their preschool education and charged each family approximately $1,000 to cover the costs. The couple refused to pay this amount, considering it excessive for a preschool ‘graduation’. As a consequence, the community rejected them. The other case is that of a graduate from the intercultural university in the State of Mexico who returned to his community in Ocuilan and wanted to work his parent’s plot. The community severely questioned his decision, arguing that his having finished higher education was not compatible with performing hard labor ‘because he didn’t study to work the same as we do, who did not study’. The graduate had to abandon his plans. These two examples seem to indicate that it is difficult for communities to integrate higher education graduates, given the transformations they experience and the changes they bring back with them to their community of origin. It is easier for these communities to accept them if they remain in the city and return only as a visitor. Another purpose of the study was to analyze the prior work histories of the graduates, which are long since all Indigenous graduates started working in their childhood. An exception was the students from the Iberoamerican University in Puebla who did not continue working while they pursued their university studies. The majority of them – graduates from ITESO are an exception – worked in unstable and low-paying jobs that held no relationship with their studies.

The graduates’ sense of identity

As stated earlier, the study investigated the question of identity and its transformation as a consequence of higher education. Given what we know about the role of schooling in shaping identity, it was unexpected that in practically all cases university studies strengthened the Indigenous identity

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of students and graduates. And, in fact, almost all students interviewed considered themselves Indigenous and expressed pride in belonging to their ethnic group. This identity was strongest among graduates from the inter­ cultural university and weakest among graduates of the Center of University studies of Sonora (CESUES)-Navojoa campus in northern Mexico. Pride of belonging was also felt by graduates who remained in the city: ‘I am the same guy, with the same convictions’, said one of them. Another was worried because he was not 100% Indigenous. A third student was in the process of defining his identity: ‘I don’t know whether I am Indigenous or not’. A graduate from the intercultural university was shocked when he went into the outside world, ‘because you realize that the real world is not like that [where identities are respected]’. Yet, multiple identities also appeared; some mentioned that it was possible to be Indigenous and a scholar, or to be Indigenous while also belonging to urban youth subcultures, like darkies.7 They had been through the process of choosing an identity and were aware of it. These results called into question the contention that schooling acculturates or assimilates students into the dominant culture. In higher education, in Mexico at least, this did not seem to be the case. This discovery would also seem to be in line with what seems to be a growing awareness of ethnic identity in the country in general. The 2010 population census included an extended questionnaire for a representative sample. One question was whether the respondent considered him/herself Indigenous; 14.86% of the population replied in the affirmative. In 2000, only 6.12% of the respondents so replied. It is useful to note that in 2010 only 5.9% of the population age 3 and over spoke an Indigenous language, implying that Indigenous identity is being strengthened even among those who no longer speak an Indigenous language. However, what is interesting in this finding is that universities are not only not acting against this trend – as they used to do in past decades – but seem to be favoring ethnic awareness and strengthening cultural identity of Indigenous students. The interviewees also confirmed personal identity as a consequence of attending a university. Sometimes interviews show that the strengthening of personal identity became even stronger than ethnic identity. The pride in having obtained a university degree, of having surmounted many difficulties, and of being the first from the community to have completed higher education, allowed the interviewees to define themselves as hard workers, persistent, determined and even ambitious. The recognition and valuing of the ‘other’ and of other cultures was also a result of university studies. Indigenous students valued studying another culture and recognizing that there are many cultures and becoming

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acquainted with them, each different and valuable. They were proud of their ability to perform without difficulties in two cultures and, in one case (a Wixarika), to interpret between two cultures. This graduate, sent by his community to study education in ITESO because he was meant to establish a high school when he finished and returned, is now developing a culturally relevant curriculum for establishing such a school with the participation of the community and, at the same time, negotiating with the educational authorities in the state capital for support for the school. The interviews also revealed the present relationship of the graduates with their communities of origin. This relationship was found to depend on their place of origin, the university where they studied and their residence after leaving the university. In Nayarit, very few graduates were born in a rural area and those who were had practically no contact with their community of origin. In Veracruz, on the contrary, graduates maintained a very strong relationship with their communities and some of them returned to live there once they obtained their degree. In Sonora, graduates lived in the community, which is close to the city, and commuted to the university. In ITESO, among the Wixarika, the students were aware of the mandate to work for their community during their studies; they returned, transformed, to serve the community and in no cases was this mandate questioned. Similarly, in Puebla, the Jesuit university tried to reach an agreement with their students’ community ensuring that the students would receive support during their studies and would return to the community. However, in this case graduates resisted the university’s pressure to return to their community. Of the six Pueblan Indigenous graduates interviewed, only three returned, also transformed, to start their own business in their community of origin. In the intercultural university, the relationship with the community was fostered throughout the students’ studies.

Preliminary findings of the second stage of the study As noted earlier, this study has a second stage that includes dropouts from the different programs, institutional actors involved in the programs (coordinators and professors), employers and members of the community of origin of the students. Also, the graduates who were interviewed during the first stage were interviewed again. The data from this second stage are currently being processed and final results are not yet available. However, some preliminary findings are worth mentioning: Similar differences between urban and rural Indigenous students were found. Urban Indigenous students mostly attended public universities. Intercultural universities were becoming more diverse in that they were

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opening their doors to an increasing number of non-Indigenous students. Economic difficulties still were the main reason for interrupting studies. Again, no evidence of the presence of discrimination against Indigenous students in public universities was found. Nevertheless, in Jesuit universities discrimination remained in a subtle but intense form. Whereas the first stage of the study found that women faced gender discrimination before entering the university, in the second stage more information pointed to gender discrimination at the university level. Specifically, Indigenous women had the responsibility for maintaining high scores in order to retain their scholarship and had to work hard. They were integrated into mixed studying teams, in which they were given larger workloads by the non-Indigenous students. This happened in the case of both male and female Indigenous students, but it was particularly evident with the latter. Nevertheless, the impact of university studies on the self-esteem of women was noticeable; the university education made it possible for them to gain independence from their family, as well as their family’s trust and respect. Indigenous identity again was shown to be strengthened by the university experience. However, this second stage of the study, as opposed to the first stage, found that Indigenous students were very critical of the exclusion that had victimized Indigenous peoples and they had developed a growing consciousness of inequality and injustice regarding ethnicity. The second stage also indicates that non-Indigenous students learned from having Indigenous students as their classmates, affirming their cultural difference but valuing the experience of sharing with Indigenous students. They openly criticized attitudes of discrimination. The second stage found further that the programs offered by the universities were changing. Specifically, there was a tendency to include nonIndigenous students and intercultural universities were increasing the number of mestizo students. The Jesuit universities extended their program in Puebla to rural students and at ITESO to low-income students. The PAEIIES in the CESUES-Navojoa campus began to admit non-Indigenous students. This was an interesting trend because it confirms the fact that universities see these programs as an opportunity of including low-income students, not as the possibility of increasing the cultural diversity of the university.

Conclusions and Recommendations For Indigenous peoples, attending a university represents an experience of both educational and social and occupational mobility. This is true in all

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cases, but particularly so in large cities. Social and educational mobility is much stronger for Indigenous than the non-Indigenous individuals. Occupational mobility, as a consequence of attending a university, occurs mainly in the large cities. The study described in this chapter considered three mechanisms for increasing the higher education opportunities of Indigenous students: an academic support project designed by the Ford Foundation, Pathways to Higher Education; the special programs for Indigenous students in Jesuit universities; and the intercultural universities whose student body overall is primarily Indigenous. All three are valid cases with interesting results from which much can be learned. Adaptation to life in a city, and to the university itself, is a long and painful process, but ultimately the experience of going through higher education is highly valued. Part of the difficulty of adapting is dealing with subtle discrimination, found only in private universities. In public universities, there seems to be little or no discrimination against Indigenous students. Ethnic characteristics do not define the relationships among students or between students and teachers. Also, this study found little evidence of discrimination in the labor market in large cities. Job and income differentials were due mainly to the size of the town or city where the student’s university is located, indicating that universities located in small cities or rural areas have little influence on the economic development of those regions. The higher education experience helps build an Indigenous identity and even stronger self-esteem in students. In previous decades, Indigenous students became primary school teachers since teaching was their main avenue for occupational mobility. Currently, there seems to be a shift, at least in higher education institutions, from acculturation to the fostering of cultural identity and of ethnic diversity. In fact, the higher education experience for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous individuals leads to valuing diversity, recognizing the different other, mastering two cultures and developing the ability to serve as cultural interpreters. Most universities seem to be achieving an equalizing function in their capacity to provide both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students with the competencies needed for succeeding in the labor market and in society in general. Some universities located in large cities also seem to be achieving an equalizing function in job attainment. Public universities are fostering relationships among all types of students without stripping the cultural identity of Indigenous students; on the contrary, cross-cultural relationships

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strengthen their identity. Universities, however, are not successful at regional development. Graduates in rural areas, middle-sized cities and underdeveloped regions are being forced to engage in low-paid economic activities or to migrate. All this seems to occur spontaneously. With the exception of the two Jesuit universities and the intercultural university considered in this study, local development was not an explicit objective of the higher education institutions. Nevertheless, much more could be achieved if higher education institutions had the explicit purpose of promoting interculturalidad8 for all and of transforming diversity into an advantage, and if more academic support was offered to the students. Also, Indigenous students would fare better economically if an emergency fund were developed to aid those who face financial emergencies that lead to dropping out, temporarily at least. Furthermore, perhaps their opportunities as graduates would improve if higher education institutions played a more active role in promoting employment opportunities for their graduates, particularly in small cities. This study confirmed several initial assumptions: first, universities seem to not be concerned with becoming intercultural, which means making use and exploiting the fact that different cultures are represented in the universities and that these different cultures are a potential source of new knowledge and epistemological dialogue. In universities, being Indigenous is synonymous with being poor and having a poor educational background. They saw their role with respect to Indigenous students as ‘helping them out’ to surmount these difficulties. Indigenous students are culturally rich, though they may be and generally are economically poor. Universities see their economic poverty, not their cultural wealth. In spite of this lapse, the intercultural experience had interesting effects on both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. Indigenous students were in fact the victims of a very unequal educational system. Nonetheless, they proved their resilience through their ability to adapt to very different and sometimes hostile cultural environments and to their complete higher education studies and enter the labor market. The study also surprisingly revealed unexpected results, such as the phenomena that social mobility is occurring among Indigenous students who attended universities much more so than for non-Indigenous students; there was scarce ethnic discrimination in public universities or in the labor market indeed, much less than expected. Moreover, university studies strengthened Indigenous identities and critical consciousness. Much more research is needed to fully understand this relatively new phenomenon of Indigenous students in universities and Indigenous professionals in the labor market. This exploratory study points out the avenues that need to be further investigated.

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Notes (1) Manuel Gil and other scholars contest this enrollment statistic. Gil (2011) in particular has criticized this official number presented as net enrollment rate saying that, in fact, it represents the gross enrollment rate which is the ratio of the number of students enrolled, regardless of their age, to the number of people in the population between 19 and 23 years of age, in which case coverage would be much lower, under 25%. (2) Pedro Arrupe was Superior General of the Society of Jesus from 1965 to 1983. He took on the task to guide the community through the changes following Vatican II. He was most concerned that the Jesuits make a commitment to addressing the needs of the poor (Ignatian Spirituality, 2012). (3) The Human Development Index is based on four indicators: life expectancy at birth, mean years of schooling, expected years of schooling and gross income per capita. The first indicator is a proxy for health, the next two for education and the third for income (United Nations Development Program, 2012). (4) The health index for Indigenous peoples is 0.7310, while for the non-Indigenous population it is 0.8841. Further, the income index for Indigenous peoples is 0.6471; for non-Indigenous population it is 0.7579. (5) Also known as Huicholes, the Wixaritari are an Indigenous ethnic group that inhabits the mountains of Jalisco, Durango and Nayarit. They are known for not having been conquered by the Spaniards during the conquest of Mexico. Practically, all Wixaritari speak their own language and are active participants of the cultural manifestations of their group. (6) In rural areas in Mexico, food is eaten with a tortilla instead of with knives and forks. (7) ‘Darkies’ is one of the several juvenile ‘subcultures’ that coexist in the large cities of the world, together with the ‘punks’ and the ‘emos’, among others. They are characterized by wearing only black. Girls paint their fingernails and their lips black. They go around in groups and are in general harmless. (8) Interculturalidad, which implies heightened communication between cultures, is not the mere presence of diversity or pluralism and it is not to be confused with multiculturalism. Rather, it is the teaching and understanding of two different cultures on an equal footing through the schooling process.

References Ahuja, R. and Schmelkes, S. (2004) Los aspirantes indígenas a la educación media superior. In Centro Nacional de Evaluación para la Educación Superior (CENEVAL) (ed.) Evaluación de la educación en México. Indicadores del EXANI-I (pp. 281–314). México, D.F., México: CENEVAL. Asociación Nacional de Universidades e Institutos de Educación Superior (ANUIES). (2012) Programa de apoyo a estudiantes Indígenas en instituciones de educación superior. See http://paeiies.anuies.mx/index.php?pagina=directorio.html (accessed 13 April 2012). Casillas, L. and Santini, L. (2006) Universidad Intercultural: Modelo educativo. México, D.F., México: Secretaría de Educación Pública, Coordinación General de Educación Intercultural y Bilingüe.

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Didou, S. and Remedi, E. (2006) Pathways to Higher Education: Una oportunidad de educación superior para jóvenes Indígenas en México. México, D.F., México: Asociación Nacional de Universidades e Instituciones de Educación Superior. Dietz, G. (2004) Multiculturalismo, interculturalidad y educación: Aproximación antropológica. Granada: Editorial Universidad de Granada, CIESAS. García Canclini, N. (2004) Culturas híbridas. México, D.F., México: Grijalbo. Gimenez, G. (2007) Estudios sobre la cultura y las identidades sociales. México, D.F., México: ITESO, CONACULTA. Goffman, E. (1998) Estigma. La identidad deteriorada. Buenos Aires, Argentina: Amorrortu. Gómez Gallegos, M.A. (2012) Nuevas dimensiones de las categorías étnicas convencionales: Buscando estudiantes Indígenas en una universidad tecnológica de Hidalgo, México. Doctoral dissertation, Departamento de Investigaciones Educativas, Centro de Investigación y Estudios Avanzados. Howard, R. (2007) Por los Linderos de la Lengua: Ideologías Lingüísticas en Los Andes. Lima: Universidad Católica del Perú. Ignatian Spirituality (2012) Pedro Arrupe, S.J. (1907–1991) Ignatian Spirituality. See http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-voices/20th-century-ignatian-voices/ pedro-arrupe-sj/ (accessed 30 July 2012). Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Geografía (INEGI) (2006) Conteo Nacional de Población y Vivienda 2005. See http://www.inegi.org.mx/est/contenidos/proyectos/ccpv/ cpv2005/Default.aspx (accessed 10 October 2011). Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Geografía (INEGI) (2011) Censo nacional de población y vivienda 2010. México, D.F., México: Author. See http://webcache.googleusercontent. com/search?q=cache:http://www.censo2010.org.mx (accessed 10 October 2011). Instituto Nacional para la Evaluación de la Educación (INEE) (2006) La Educación para poblaciones vulnerables. México, D.F., México: Author. Instituto Nacional para la Evaluación de la Educación (INEE) (2007) La calidad de la edu­ cación básica en México 2006. México, D.F., México: Author. Mato, D. (ed.) (2008) Diversidad cultural e interculturalidad en educación superior. Caracas, Venezuela: Instituto de Educación Superior para América Latina y el Caribe − United Nations Education, Science and Culture Organization. Mato, D. (2009) Instituciones interculturales de educación superior en América Latina: Panorama regional, procesos interculturales de construcción institucional, logros, dificultades, innovaciones y desafíos. In D. Mato (ed.) Instituciones interculturales de educación superior en América Latina: Procesos de construcción, logros, innovaciones y desafíos. Caracas, Venezuela: IESALC UNESCO. Programa de Naciones Unidas para el Desarrollo (United Nations Development Program, PNUD) (2010) Informe sobre el desarrollo humano de los pueblos indígenas de México. See http://planipolis.iiep.unesco.org/upload/Mexico/Mexico_HDR_2010.pdf (accessed 02 February 2012). Schmelkes, S. (2009a) Intercultural Universities in Mexico: Problems and Difficulties, Intercultural Education (formerly European Journal of Intercultural Studies) 20 (1), 5–18. Schmelkes, S. (2009b) El problema de la educación para la diversidad. In R.G. Mendoza Zuany (ed.) Gestión de la Diversidad: Diálogos Interdisciplinarios (pp. 17–34). Xalapa, México: Universidad Veracruzana.

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Schmelkes, S. (2009c) Educación y diversidad cultural. In A. de Alba and R. Glazman (coords). ¿Qué dice la investigación educativa? (pp. 437–470). México, D.F., México: Consejo Mexicano de Investigación Educativa. Secretaría de Educación Pública (2005) Equidad, calidad e innovación en el desarrollo educativo nacional. México, D.F., México: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Secretaría de Educación Pública-Coordinación General de Educación Intercultural y Bilingüe [SEP-CGEIB] (2004) Educación superior para los pueblos indígenas en América Latina. Memorias del segundo encuentro regional. Ciudad de México. StatPac (2012) Survey Sampling Methods. See http://www.statpac.com/surveys/sampling. htm (accessed 30 July 2012). The Ford Foundation (2012) Pathways to Higher Education: A Ford Foundation Global Ini­ tiative for Promoting Inclusiveness in Higher Education. New York, NY: Author. See http://www.fordfoundation.org/pdfs/library/pathways_to_higher_education.pdf (accessed 30 July 2012).Tuirán, R. and Avila, J.L. (2012) La educación superior: Escenarios y desafíos, Este País. See http://estepais.com/site/?p=32598 (accessed 13 April 2012). United Nations Development Program (2012) Human Development Index. In Human Development Reports. See http://hdr.undp.org/en/statistics/hdi/ (accessed 30 July 2012).

6 Beyond Cultural Recognition: Training Teachers for Intercultural Bilingual Education in Guatemala María José Aragón Introduction Across Latin America, the tensions surrounding the position of Indigenous communities in society continue to be a major challenge in the design and implementation of education policies that attempt to tackle complex relationships. Questions of identity, recognition and self-determination have become particularly visible in the field of education, where schools are contested spaces in which many of these struggles and negotiations take place. Although there appears to be a growing consensus that Intercultural Bilingual Education (Educación Intercultural Bilingüe (EIB)) is an appropriate way to address some of the issues associated with providing an equal and democratic education to students of all cultures, little is known about how this approach is defined and translated into education practices in different social and cultural contexts. Examining the role of teachers and teacher-­ training programs in the implementation of EIB is therefore critical to acquiring a deeper understanding of how EIB is being conceptualized at the local level. The introduction of EIB in Latin America has occurred alongside the proliferation of a global discourse on cultural diversity by international organizations such as UNESCO and the World Bank. In recent years, international conferences and agreements, including the International Decade of the World’s Indigenous Peoples (1994–2004) and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007, have placed Indigenous issues on the global agenda. These declarations and organizations have emphasized the importance of recognizing cultural diversity through education and have urged countries to be more responsive to the needs of marginalized ethnic and linguistic groups. The adoption of new linguistic 148

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and cultural rights throughout the region has also shifted the focus from individual rights to the collective rights of Indigenous peoples. As part of their efforts in the region, international organizations and European international cooperation agencies, such as the German agency for international cooperation (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ)), have been instrumental in supporting Indigenous movements and funding the development of EIB programs (see Chapter 2, this volume). The expansion of EIB programs has been accompanied by the creation of teacher-training institutions and programs. In order to provide EIB training, some countries have converted existing teacher-training institutions, while others have created independent training institutes. Teacher education in the area of EIB is highly diverse and ranges from secondary schoollevel training programs in countries such as Guatemala to programs leading to a bachelor’s or master’s degree at recognized universities in Mexico and Peru (López, 2001). One of the regional centers specializing in EIB teacher education is PROEIB-Andes (Program for Professional Development in Inter­cultural and Bilingual Education for the Andean Region (Programa de Formación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos)), which is located at the university of San Simón in Cochabamba, Bolivia. PROEIB-­ Andes collaborates with universities and Indigenous organizations in the Andean region and has been offering graduate programs for teachers from eight countries since 1996 (Hornberger, 2000). Given this scenario, the experiences of teachers within these different training models vary widely and are permeated by the idiosyncrasies of their local contexts. Since teachers function as intermediaries between education policies and practices, their understanding of concepts and ideas related to EIB is essential for its successful implementation. Ricento and Hornberger (1996) conceive language policy and planning as a field made up of a series of interrelated ‘layers’ that are influenced by the actions of various stakeholders: from institutions to administrators and teacher trainers. At the heart of this schema are the teachers because they do not simply reproduce or deliver policy prescriptions but, rather, have the ability to transform them and actively participate in the policy-making process. Consequently, policies requiring teachers to promote interculturalism or teach children science or history in their native language, could translate into a wide range of educational experiences. The way that key concepts such as bilingualism and interculturalism are interpreted and defined by teachers can, therefore, have significant implications for the decisions they make in their classrooms. Hornberger (2002: 30) further argues that multilingual language policies can either open or restrict ‘ideological and implementational spaces’ that allow for the incorporation of multiple identities, languages and cultures

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in the classroom. However, while policies have the ability to constrain or expand the options available to teachers in terms of language use and pedagogical practices, institutions and practitioners have the power to reinterpret and negotiate policies at the local level (Hornberger & Johnson, 2007). In the case of EIB it remains to be seen to what extent the ideological spaces surrounding Indigenous education have been broadened and what kinds of opportunities and obstacles this presents for teachers in the implementation of EIB. This chapter addresses some of the potential challenges associated with training teachers for EIB by examining the case of Guatemala. Because of its history of ethnic conflicts and its large and diverse Indigenous population, Guatemala presents a complex setting in which to observe how the EIB approach has been translated and adapted at the local level. Further, Guatemala’s dire economic situation, which has disproportionately affected Indigenous people in rural areas, has made the implementation of education reforms particularly challenging (Patrinos & Vélez, 2009). The ways that EIB policies are understood and contextualized by teachers are consequently inextricably tied to the country’s social, political and economic past and present. In my discussion of teacher training for EIB, I draw on my experience collaborating with the Academic Program for Professional Teacher Development (Programa Académico de Desarrollo Profesional Docente (PADEP/D)) at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala and situate the program in the broader Guatemalan education context. By focusing on a concrete EIB teacher-training experience, I attempt to expose the multilayered and complex interactions between EIB policies and practices and illuminate some of the issues this raises for the design of teacher-training programs.

Bringing EIB into the Classroom: The Academic Program for Professional Teacher Development The following section provides an overview of the PADEP/D, a public teacher education program at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala (USAC), and makes some observations based on my experience working with the program during July and August of 2011.1 During my time with PADEP/D, I assisted in reviewing the teacher-training curriculum and materials for its bilingual intercultural concentration for preschool and primary teachers. As part of my work, I examined the manuals for teacher trainers developed for each course and the student guidebooks, which were in the process of being edited and revised by a number of education experts for each subject area. I also visited four teacher-training centers, two in the province

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of Sololá and two in Baja Verapaz where students were being trained, and I was able to observe program graduates teaching in bilingual classrooms. In addition to my observations at teacher-training centers and in classrooms, I conducted interviews with both students enrolled in the program and program graduates, and had conversations with a school director and pedagogical advisers from several regional departments. Questions during my interviews with program graduates and teachers enrolled in the program focused on their perceptions of the training they were receiving or had received through the PADEP/D program, issues related to the implementation of the EIB approach in the classroom, and student and community attitudes toward EIB.

Program origins and administration The PADEP/D was initiated in 2009 through an agreement between the teacher-training institute (Escuela de Profesores de Enseñanza Media) at USAC, the national teachers union, and the national Ministry of Education, and was developed with technical support from the German Agency for International Cooperation (GIZ). The creation of the program was the result of a series of political negotiations with strong participation from members of Indigenous groups who played an active role in the planning and design processes. The involvement of these various actors and the collaboration among them make this a unique and encouraging effort for Guatemala. Particularly, the national teachers union’s support for the EIB model is unprecedented in the region and has been vital to the sustainability of the program. GIZ in Guatemala has been instrumental to the development of PADEP/D through its Program for Education Quality (PACE), which aims to strengthen the implementation of EIB and the national curriculum guidelines as well as in-service teacher training in the country’s poorest regions. GIZ has also provided a number of technical trainings, including workshops for the PADEP/D’s pedagogical advisers and for the authors of course content and pedagogical materials (GIZ, 2012). The Escuela de Profesores de Enseñanza Media (EFMEP), the institute that administers the PADEP/D program, was created in 1968 as an academic unit within the USAC’s humanities department. The institute was established by the Ministry of Education and the National University of San Carlos with support from UNESCO, in order to provide specialized training to secondary school teachers, which was not previously being offered in Guatemala. Since 1998, the institute has become an independent academic entity within the university and has expanded its programs to provide training for all levels of schooling in a variety of different formats.

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Since PADEP/D’s implementation, approximately 2500 teachers in nine provinces have graduated from the program with degrees as ‘Intercultural’ or ‘Bilingual Intercultural’ teachers for the preprimary and primary levels. About 5000 teachers are currently enrolled in the second cohort, and a third cohort was recently established with 10,700 new participants (GIZ, 2012). It is important to note that since I was in Guatemala [in 2011], the program has undergone a large-scale evaluation conducted by the Ministry of Education and key aspects of PADEP/D’s content and structure have been modified. I will go into greater depth about these changes later on this section.

The student body The PADEP/D program was created in order to provide university-level professional training to public school teachers in 45 municipalities with the highest poverty levels in the country. In order to enroll, students must hold a secondary school-level teaching degree for preprimary or primary education. Further, since this is an in-service program, prospective students also have to demonstrate that they are currently teaching at a school. About 70% of the participants in the first cohort identified as belonging to a Mayan Indigenous group, while 28% identified as non-Indigenous. The majority of Indigenous teachers reported their native language as one of four Mayan languages: Mam, K’iche’, Q’eqchi’ or Achi. Other Mayan languages were represented by smaller minorities of teachers and a number of Indigenous languages were not represented at all, including: Garifuna, Itza’, Mopán and Xinka (DIGEDUCA, 2012).

Program organization, content and degrees The program curriculum is based on a constructivist pedagogical approach that aims to break with traditional teaching methods by ‘guiding’ teachers in their learning and promoting reflection and critical thinking. In addition, the program has a strong social component that emphasizes the importance of collaborative problem solving and presents education as a holistic and social process. Curriculum objectives include the promotion of ‘an education based on critical thinking, democracy, dialogue and gender equality’, as well as support for ‘systematic and continuous teacher training that provides the theoretical and methodological tools necessary for the practice of teaching’ (EFPEM, 2009: 123). Another fundamental aspect of the program is that it is competency based and seeks to strengthen teachers’ skills in four main areas: personal, social, methodological and content related.

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The ultimate goal of this approach is to improve the quality of education in some of the country’s most under-served communities (EFPEM, 2009). EFPEM offers secondary teaching degrees in a number of subject areas, including Mathematics and Physics, Language and Literature, Bilingual Intercultural Education with an Emphasis in Mayan Culture and Basic Sciences for Multicultural Contexts. The school also offers several university-­ level degrees including Education for Multicultural Contexts with an emphasis in the Teaching of Mayan Languages and Education Innovations with an emphasis in Learning Processes, as well as master’s degrees in Education with concentrations in Environment or Alternative Education Models, among others (EFPEM, 2009). In 2012, EFPEM will also begin offering a new master’s program in EIB for teachers and Ministry of Education staff. The program is being launched with technical support from GIZ and in collaboration with the established regional PROEIB-Andes (Program for Professional Development in Intercultural and Bilingual Education for the Andean Region (Programa de Formación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos)) master’s program based at Universidad de San Simón in Cochabamba, Bolivia. The program is completed over a two-year period and is organized in bi-monthly terms. Students teach their regular classes during the week and attend teacher-training courses on weekends. In order to fulfill degree requirements, program participants take a total of 20 courses: 10 common courses for both bilingual intercultural and intercultural teachers and 10 specialized courses for each concentration. At the end of the program, students present a portfolio of educational activities and experiences that demonstrate their learning over the course of the training (EFPEM, 2009). In the revised curriculum plan for the third cohort, based on the Ministry of Education’s program evaluation, the courses have been reorganized to focus more heavily on the design and implementation of EIB pedagogical practices and on teachers’ development of a strong understanding of the national and local sociocultural contexts. The new plan has also redefined some of competencies that teachers are expected to master and has aligned course content more closely with the objectives of the national curriculum guidelines (EFPEM, 2012). Within PADEP/D, the bilingual intercultural concentration for primary teachers is designed for teachers already teaching in bilingual classrooms. For the first two cohorts, the concentration was comprised of 10 courses associated specifically with EIB. They covered various subject areas from Social Sciences, Citizenship Education, Productivity and Development from the Worldview of the Peoples to Mother Tongue Language Learning

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(L1 language: Garifuna, Maya or Xinca). To determine the content of the courses within and outside of the concentration, I reviewed the teacher trainer manuals (which provide detailed information on topics and lessons to be covered by trainers), and the student modules, mainly comprised of supplementary readings and activities for each course. However, while trainers are provided with these manuals, they are also in the position to choose from the materials, complement them and adapt them in their classrooms. The content that is included in the manuals is expected to serve as a guide rather than as a prescribed curriculum.

Analysis of the program’s initial phase In the program, teachers are introduced to the concepts associated with EIB through a common course for all PADEP/D participants, Multicultural and Intercultural Education. While the course materials (for trainers and teachers) provide some definitions of key concepts, they also apply a number of related concepts interchangeably, as is the case with multiculturalism and interculturalism. There is little background provided on the origins of these concepts and how they can be distinguished from each other. Consequently, the lack of conceptual clarity and consistency in course materials is problematic for teachers trying to make sense of these new ideas. Further, as most of the course materials have been designed and produced by local experts from different academic disciplines, there appeared to be a lack of uniformity across courses in the way these terms are applied and understood. As previously mentioned, content revision and curriculum redesign processes were initiated in 2011 to help unify concepts and improve the coordination between subject areas. In my conversations with program graduates, the teachers appeared to have trouble defining the concept of interculturalism and describing how their training in this area had influenced their teaching practices and philosophy. However, when asked about how they had made their classrooms more intercultural after completing the program, they were able to identify certain practices and materials they had incorporated into their teaching. One of the teachers pointed out visual materials in her classroom that displayed Mayan letters and numbers, and vocabulary words. However, the majority of the visual displays and materials in the classroom, particularly students’ work, were in Spanish. Another teacher talked about a special cultural day she organized in her class where students gave presentations and wore traditional clothing to school as a way to share and recognize their backgrounds. She also mentioned that teaching values related to culture was part of her weekly civics

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lesson in which students were provided with opportunities to compare the different ethnic groups. While teachers seemed to have developed isolated pedagogical strategies, in their reflections about the goals of EIB, they did not raise issues related to discrimination or the relationship between interculturalism and broader social issues in their communities and beyond. Although the PADEP/D’s bilingual intercultural concentration is designed for bilingual teachers, the only course that exclusively focuses on language is Mother Tongue Language Learning. However, as it is a general course for bilingual teachers who teach students in a large number of Indigenous languages, the course content is general and primarily centered on reading and writing skills and less on the relationship between first- and second-language learning. Further, the materials do not appear to provide teachers with techniques on how to transition from bilingual classrooms in which Spanish was the main language of instruction to teaching in students’ native languages. Content is also lacking on the various cognitive benefits of bilingualism and on how to deal with possible resistance from parents or other community members who are opposed to children being taught through this model. When asked about how much time they spent teaching in students’ native languages and the contexts in which they were using the languages, most of the teachers reported spending a few hours a week teaching students’ native language as a subject area. They also reported that they frequently used the local language more informally to communicate with children throughout the day and to clarify ideas or instructions for them. The general perception appeared to be that using students’ home language was also a way of making them feel comfortable in the school environment and that this was particularly important for younger students beginning their formal education. These comments suggest that teachers associated the native language more with the notion of care than with the language of schooling. Despite the training they received and the new curriculum guidelines for EIB, the ‘ideological and implementational spaces’ appeared to be restricted by long-standing assumptions and social perceptions about the place of Indigenous languages in society (Hornberger, 2002; Hornberger & Johnson, 2007). The evaluation of the first program cohort, conducted by the Ministry of Education’s Directorate of Education Evaluation and Research (DIGEDUCA), revealed that teachers were mainly using Indigenous languages to translate content from Spanish into students’ native languages in the classroom and that they often lacked the necessary language skills to create content in Indigenous languages. The evaluation also found that while classes were mainly being taught in Spanish, students were primarily interacting in

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their native language in the classroom. The result was that students did not appear to have strong oral and written skills in either language (DIGEDUCA, 2012). During my conversation with the school director she talked about how she felt EIB was important because many children needed the language support when they entered school and having teachers who spoke their own language helped them with the transition and increased their self-esteem. She also noted that many of her teachers did not speak the local language and that she felt that all of her teachers should be provided with some basic language training. The director herself was not from the community and did not speak the local language. When asked about whether she saw differences between the teachers in her school who had participated in PADEP/D and the other teachers at her school, she spoke about how the PADEP/D teachers had made their classes more participatory and activity based. However, she did not discuss specific EIB practices or changes in the use of Indigenous languages in the classroom. One of the concepts that appears in the majority of PADEP/D concentration courses is the idea of an ‘Indigenous world view’ (cosmovisión). Many of the course titles include the word cosmovisión to specify that content will be taught based on Indigenous knowledge and understanding of certain subject areas. For example: Natural Sciences and Technology from the Worldview of the Peoples, Communications and Language from the Worldview of the Peoples and Artistic Expression from the Worldview of the Peoples. The materials for these courses tend to focus on historical views of Indigenous cultures rather than on more recent developments and cultural experiences. Since the term cosmovisión is associated with Indigenous knowledge systems, there is a tendency to present Indigenous cultures in a somewhat mythological light without addressing issues related to current social phenomena such as discrimination or how Indigenous groups live today. In the case of the natural sciences, content emphasizes how Mayans historically defined their relationship with nature and incorporates related myths and beliefs, but looks less at how the relationship with nature continues to influence their current practices and worldview. Limited guidance is provided on how to help incorporate cultural content contributed by students and their communities in the classroom without falling into presenting stereotyped or essentialist visions of rich and diverse Indigenous cultures. The insufficient support bilingual teachers received for the implementation of EIB was another recurring theme in interviews conducted with program graduates and participants. Teachers had access to few materials and resources in students’ native languages and often had to develop their own. However, the materials created by teachers were often focused on specific

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activities or on learning vocabulary rather than on teaching subject content such as math or science in the native language. In terms of PADEP/D’s effects on their perceptions about educational practices and EIB, teachers spoke about being introduced to a more constructivist and participatory approach to teaching, which they felt was helping give students more voice in the classroom. One teacher described how her classroom had become more lively since she had changed the seating arrangement from rows to group tables in order to encourage greater interaction among her students. Teachers seemed to be interested in learning more about how to manage their classrooms in new ways and how to engage students in their learning. Some of the teachers interviewed mentioned having faced some form of resistance in the community regarding the implementation of EIB. One teacher had received repeated complaints from parents when she first began to teach her students in Achi. Even though she was only teaching two hours of Achi a week parents were concerned that this was taking away time from their children learning Spanish and did not feel that it should be taught in school. The same teacher also stated that the program had helped her deal with these community tensions by being able to provide evidence about the benefits and long-term effects of bilingual education and talk to parents directly about the importance of preserving their Indigenous language. Another teacher mentioned that many parents in her community were no longer teaching their children their native language because they viewed it as an obstacle. Parents in the DIGEDUCA evaluation also voiced some concern about students’ limited language skills in Spanish, as well as the prevalence of Indigenous language use in the classroom (DIGEDUCA, 2012). This type of resistance has been found in other multilingual contexts, such as Bolivia and South Africa, where the dominant language often continues to be perceived as the only legitimate medium of instruction (Hornberger, 2002). The four pedagogical advisers interviewed echoed some of the concerns mentioned by the teachers, including resistance in the community and the limited use of the native language in the classroom. One of them stressed that in his observations of teacher practices in the classroom he had found that many bilingual teachers were not proficient in their own languages and particularly struggled to teach children how to write. He claimed that this was relatively common since many people of his parents’ generation had opted not to teach their children their native language. A different pedagogical adviser also indicated that the majority of teachers tended to use students’ native languages more informally instead of as the language of instruction in subject areas such as history or science class.

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Another issue raised by the pedagogical advisers was the poor initial training received by teachers and the challenges that it presented for the PADEP/D program. Since Guatemalan teachers continue to be trained at the secondary school level, rather than at the university level, PADEP/D teacher trainers had to focus on reviewing and strengthening basic competencies instead of being able to build on teachers’ existing knowledge of certain methodologies or ideas. Given these challenges, the pedagogical advisers themselves seemed to focus less in their observations on providing guidance for the implementation of EIB and more on other aspects of teacher practices. As will be discussed further, poor initial teacher training is a generalized issue in the Guatemalan education system and is one of the primary motivations behind the creation of programs such as PADEP/D that seek to remedy this situation.

Education Policy in Guatemala Having identified some of the issues raised by the PADEP/D program the following section will situate the experience in relation to the broader Guatemalan context. In addition to discussing the development of EIB in Guatemala, national curriculum documents for primary education and teacher education will be examined. Guatemala has one of the highest poverty rates and lowest levels of educational achievement in Latin America. More than half the population lives in poverty and about 15% lives in extreme poverty (United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 2009). This situation disproportionately affects Indigenous people, who make up approximately 75% of all poor people (UNDP, 2009). Around 20% of the population owns approximately 64% of national income, a fact that also makes Guatemala one of the most unequal countries in Latin America (UNDP, 2009). In terms of linguistic diversity, 22 Mayan languages are spoken, in addition to two non-Mayan Indigenous languages (Xinca and Garifuna) and Spanish, which is the country’s official language (Verdugo & Raymundo, 2009). When compared to other Latin American countries, Guatemala has one of the lowest levels of student achievement and its students consistently score in the bottom percentiles for math and reading. Sixty percent of Indigenous people are illiterate, with higher illiteracy rates in rural areas (Patrinos & Vélez, 2009). Only approximately 50% of Indigenous children are enrolled in school and they are more likely to drop out and repeat grades than their non-Indigenous schoolmates (Patrinos & Vélez, 2009). In recent years, the government has made efforts to expand student enrollment at all levels.

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In 2006, nine out of every ten children overall were enrolled in primary school, compared with eight out of ten in 2000 (The Partnership for Educational Revitalization in the Americas (PREAL), 2008). However, enrollment rates at the secondary level continue to be extremely low, with only four of ten students in school. Lack of access to education and low student retention remain major challenges among Indigenous communities in rural areas (PREAL, 2008). Public bilingual education programs in Guatemala date back to the 1960s when one of the first pilot projects was launched in the four largest Mayan communities: Kaqchikel, K’iche’, Mam and Q’eqchi’ (López, 2007). However, the onset of a three-decade long civil war (1960–1996) and its devastating effects on the education system and Indigenous populations as a whole hampered the expansion of these isolated experiences. In 1979, the Guatemalan government and the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) began collaborating on the development of a national bilingual intercultural education program, Programa Nacional de Educación Bilingüe Intercultural (PRONEBI). The national curriculum for preprimary and grades one through three was adapted and translated into four Mayan languages for the program. In addition, various educational materials, including text and storybooks, were created for use in Indigenous communities. However, this model was implemented in select regions and reached only a small proportion of Indigenous children in the country (Patrinos & Vélez, 2009). In 1994, PRONEBI concluded its activities and was absorbed by the new General Directorate of Bilingual Intercultural Education (DIGEBI) within the National Ministry of Education the following year, though it maintained much of its original format as a transitional strategy for the first years of primary schooling (López, 2007). During the 1990s, Indigenous movements began to play an instrumental role in demanding legal rights and challenging the Guatemalan government. In 1996, Acuerdos de Paz (Peace Accords) were reached between the government and the guerrilla opposition, putting an end to the civil war. Previously, both the national constitution of 1985 and the National Education Law of 1991 recognized the linguistic rights of Indigenous groups to practice their native language. However, a series of additional cultural and linguistic rights proposed through the Peace Accords were vetoed in a national referendum in 1999. In response to international pressures, an educational reform committee was created shortly thereafter that included Indigenous leaders and members of Indigenous organizations (López, 2007). A Mayan education movement emerged concurrent with these political actions and resulted in the creation of locally administered schools with partial support from the ministry of education and international organizations.

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The movement, a reflection of the widespread dissatisfaction with the EIB programs being offered by the government, emphasized culturally relevant content, leadership skills and an Indigenous worldview. Mayan education also aimed to provide education at different levels, particularly secondary school, which is not included in PRONEBI and, more recently, higher education (see Chapter 1, this volume). In an effort to revisit some of the Indigenous concerns that failed to be addressed by the Peace Accords, the Law of National Languages was passed in 2003 and a Vice Ministry for Bilingual Intercultural Education was created. Despite this legal measure, however, the new national curriculum guidelines, which were created in 2005, do not reflect support for a more universal approach to EIB. Indeed, the primary curriculum largely focuses on Western knowledge and is based on the official versions of Guatemalan history and culture and the vision of Guatemala as a multilingual and culturally diverse nation occupies a marginal place in the new education guidelines (López, 2007). Further, the EIB model is generally only being implemented in the early grades of primary school until students become sufficiently proficient in Spanish to be able to transition into monolingual classrooms (see Chapter 1, this volume). Teacher education has also been developing in the area of EIB with the instrumental support of international cooperation agencies, including GIZ, the European Union and USAID, among others. Starting in the 1980s, the Guatemalan government began creating bilingual normal schools throughout the country. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the government made more substantial efforts to rapidly increase the number of Bilingual Intercultural Normal Schools (ENBIS) and Intercultural Normal Schools at the primary and preprimary levels. Along with the expansion of teacher education offered through the normal schools, higher education institutions, such as Universidad Rafael Landívar and Universidad de San Carlos de Gua­ temala, began to offer undergraduate- and graduate-level degrees in EIB (Rubio, 2007). It is important to note that teachers in Guatemala are not required to hold a higher education degree and the vast majority of them continue to receive their training exclusively at the secondary school level. After having completed the first three years of secondary schooling students may enroll in normal schools for the following three years to receive their primary teacher certification. Nationally, there are approximately 80 public and 250 private normal schools granting degrees to an estimated 14,000–15,000 new teachers a year. The professionalization of teachers, particularly in Indigenous communities, has become a growing source of concern resulting in various government and internationally funded initiatives that have aimed

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to provide specialized in-service training in areas such as teaching reading and writing, as well as courses related to components of EIB (Rubio, 2007).

EIB and the National Curriculum Guidelines The National Curriculum Guidelines (CNB), introduced by the Ministry of Education in 2005, are the product of a long process of education reform initiated after the Peace Accords in 1996, which has aimed, among other goals, to make the Guatemalan education system more representative of and responsive to its linguistic and cultural diversity. The guidelines are organized around the development of specific competencies and promote core democratic values, such as equality and participation. In addition, the CNB proposes a pedagogical shift to a more student-centered and inquirybased approach and is intended to give greater agency to local communities and teachers in the design of educational content and experiences. The Ministry of Education first created the CNB for the preprimary and primary levels in 2005 and has since gone on to develop guidelines for the first years of secondary schooling. The CNB guidelines for primary education state that one of the main objectives of the education reform process is to: ‘reflect and respond to the characteristics, needs and aspirations of a multicultural, multilingual and multiethnic country, by strengthening personal identities, as well as those of the [Indigenous] peoples, and promoting unity in diversity’2 (Ministerio de Educación, 2005: 5). The curriculum guidelines also require that all children learn second and third languages based on their knowledge and skills in their native language (denoted as L-1): ‘The subject area Language and Communications (L-1) refers to the language in which students learn to speak, think, express their feelings and needs and internalize family and community values, as well as to raise and solve problems’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2005: 30). This statement suggests a shift away from bilingual education based on the learning of Spanish as the primary language of instruction. With respect to the bilingual component of EIB, the new proposed model in which the student’s native language is to be the main language of instruction is described in the curriculum guidelines. However, there is no concrete plan provided outlining how teachers would transition from the existing bilingual education approach and acquire the additional skills they may require to teach various subject areas in Indigenous languages. Since students do not generally have access to bilingual programs beyond their first few years of schooling, this lapse undermines the idea that one of the primary objectives of EIB is for students to use both languages throughout their entire education.

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The national curriculum guidelines for teacher education in EIB establish five main competencies for future primary teachers related to interculturalism. The first competency requires teachers to apply pedagogical strategies to ‘interpret social, economic and geographic events’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2006: 89). Indicators for this competency include using dialogue in the classroom and drawing on key concepts related to interculturalism. The suggested content areas listed for this competency address a number of EIB concepts, such as otherness, diversity, interculturalism, multiculturalism and ethnic identity (Ministerio de Educación, 2006). The second competency is described as: ‘respecting and promoting interculturalism and multiculturalism by exercising political, economic and cultural rights’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2006: 89). Here, the concepts of multiculturalism and interculturalism appear to be viewed as compatible and complementary goals. The third competency, related to the second, addresses the need for teachers to have a critical understanding of historical experiences represented by different Indigenous peoples in order to contribute to the construction of identity. The need to help build and strengthen identities is recurring and central to the vision of EIB presented in these curriculum documents (Ministerio de Educación, 2006). The fourth competency focuses on teaching students about different modes of social participation. Subjects to be covered include ‘origins and development of ethnic movements’ and ‘explanation of the crisis of participatory culture’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2006: 90). Teaching students about social participation appears to be closely tied to the new vision of education as student-centered process in which students are representatives of their languages and cultures. Aligned with this vision, the final competency states that teachers should employ a pedagogical approach based on the Indigenous worldview in order to teach students about the universe and themselves. Topics listed under this competency are: promoting learning by using resources from daily life and teaching the Mayan creation story, the ‘Popol Wuj’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2006). Definitions of the concepts of multiculturalism and interculturalism are also provided in the teacher education guidelines. Interculturalism is described as a process that ‘constitutes the search for social relationships that eliminates discrimination in all the dimensions of human life: social, economic, political and cultural’ (Ministerio de Educación, 2006: 25). While this definition focuses on the broader context in which human relationships are embedded, the definition of multiculturalism is defined more abstractly in terms of ‘recognizing the coexistence of different cultures’ and promoting acceptance of cultural differences. The distinct focuses of these two definitions appear to reflect the theoretical origins of these concepts that share

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common characteristics, but, ultimately advocate for different approaches to dealing with cultural diversity. Consistent with the national curricular guidelines, the DIGEBI, which is in charge of promoting and supporting the implementation of the EIB model nationally, stresses the need for teachers at the preprimary and primary levels to develop the competencies required to transform their practices and provide opportunities for students to acquire knowledge about their culture and experience their language and culture fully in the classroom. In terms of language learning, there is also an emphasis on promoting ‘additive’ bilingualism, through which students practice two languages throughout their education, as opposed to ‘subtractive’ bilingualism, where the second language comes to replace students’ native language (DIGEBI, 2009). Training for bilingual intercultural teachers is described as having two major components: general training related to how to teach content in the areas of science and humanities; and specialized training focused on teaching culture, values, language and knowledge of the sciences and technology specific to different ethnic groups, from an intercultural and multicultural perspective (DIGEBI, 2009). The new curriculum guidelines and documents discussed represent a substantial ideological shift away from the traditional bilingual education model in place, to a more inclusive pedagogical approach that draws on numerous EIB principles. The emphasis on constructing identity and drawing on students’ cultural origins and linguistic backgrounds, as well as introducing dialogue and critical thinking in the classroom has significant implications for teacher preparation in this area. Further, the role of the native language as the foundation for learning creates new responsibilities for bilingual teachers who are now required to have written and oral fluency in Indigenous languages in order to implement this model effectively. While the curriculum guidelines establish specific competencies and content areas for teachers of EIB, given the shortcomings of their initial training it is unclear how this transition can be made without addressing some of the more elementary challenges they are facing in their classrooms.

Conclusions about the PADEP/D Experience Teachers’ initial training appears to be one of the major obstacles to the successful implementation of EIB. The fact that most teachers continue to be trained at the secondary school level and are not required to have a university education means that they often lack a strong foundation in pedagogy and educational theory. Teacher-training programs such as PADEP/D

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are therefore forced to review and concentrate on strengthening teachers’ basic skills in order to improve the quality of instruction in core curriculum areas such as reading and math, instead of being able to focus on developing competencies specific to the EIB approach. Bilingual teachers in particular also appear to have limited opportunities to study Indigenous languages formally and receive little training on how to teach Indigenous languages in education settings. This is particularly problematic in cases where teachers have weak native language skills and are expected to teach their students content in various subject areas. In terms of the teachers’ understanding of Intercultural Bilingual Education (EIB) concepts, the observations on the PADEP/D and interviews conducted with participants indicate that a lack of consistency in the way that key concepts are defined in national curriculum guidelines, program materials and course content. The strong focus on the Indigenous worldview in courses within the bilingual intercultural concentration seems to suggest that content is being adapted to incorporate certain aspects of Indigenous culture, but that content is mainly reduced to the provision of a historical perspective, focused on Indigenous knowledge and traditions; less attention is paid to current Indigenous languages and cultures and how they relate to the broader society. Community opposition to EIB and lack of awareness about the benefits of the new bilingual approach also make it difficult for teachers to dedicate substantial amounts of time to teaching in the Indigenous language. Using students’ native language as a support strategy and a transitional aid seems to be more widely accepted within and outside of schools. Further, teachers’ own cultural and linguistic backgrounds, and their experiences as students within education systems in which their cultures and languages were the basis for discrimination and exclusion, often create an additional challenge for them. Language use in the classroom, therefore, heavily relies on teachers’ willingness to deal with potential opposition and to ensure that equal amounts of time are assigned to instruction in each language. Without greater support from school and regional education authorities, teachers occupy a crucial and a highly fragile position in the implementation of EIB programs. With respect to the contexts in which EIB is being implemented, the overlap between poverty and the various forms of political and social exclusion experienced by Indigenous peoples in Guatemala poses a significant challenge. Considering that a large proportion of Indigenous children remain out of school and the majority of children in school drop out early on, the expansion and development of EIB programs are clearly limited by the barriers to school attendance that children face. This situation also affects teachers’ access to education resources and training that could facilitate the

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implementation of EIB and improve the quality and relevance of the education received by Indigenous children. Teacher-training programs such as PADEP/D appear to be implemented through isolated and often local initiatives, rather than as part of universal efforts led by the national government. In part, the marginalized position of EIB within the field of education may be a result of the absence of a unified Indigenous movement representing the interests of Indigenous peoples and actively participating in the design of education plans and reforms. This is related to Guatemala’s history of internal conflict as well as to the country’s wide linguistic and cultural diversity, which may limit the contact and collaboration between Indigenous groups. The idea of struggle and protest inherent to the concept of interculturalism as conceived in other countries throughout Latin America appears to be less characteristic of the Guatemalan experience.

The Future of EIB Teacher Training in Latin America As the Guatemalan case suggests, the implementation of Intercultural Bilingual Education is not a linear or unidirectional process and is influenced by actors at various levels. Although EIB is being incorporated into official education policies and curriculum guidelines in numerous countries, the training and support teachers receive for the implementation of this approach deserves utmost attention. The lack of clarity surrounding how teachers should go about translating the vision of EIB into concrete teaching practices and educational experiences is a major challenge for the design of effective teacher-training programs. Underlying some of the issues that appear in the Guatemalan experience is a question being asked in countries across the region: how should education respond to cultural difference? While in many countries education systems have traditionally been in charge of instilling national values in children and reinforcing a common identity, the circulation of various local and global discourses about democracy and the rights of marginalized groups have placed unprecedented pressure on governments to redefine the roles of culture and language in society. When taken advantage of, these internal and external pressures can present unique opportunities and spaces for reflection and debate that can broaden the scope of ideas and possibilities available to key actors, such as teachers. Another issue, particularly pronounced in Guatemala due to the large number of Indigenous languages spoken, is the role of students’ native language in education. In certain cases offering some instruction in their

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native language has served as a means to recognize linguistic diversity without having to undergo major education reforms. In Guatemala, the bilingual model proposed as part of the national curriculum guidelines, in which students’ native language is no longer a transitional support, but the primary language of learning, undermines the place historically occupied by Spanish. For teachers, the tensions surrounding language and identity pose a significant challenge in the classroom. In addition to receiving training on how to design and implement intercultural curricula and teach various subject areas in students’ native languages, teachers appear to also require preparation on how to deal with potential resistance from parents and community members. Obtaining local approval of education reforms such as EIB policies requires changing deeply rooted attitudes and positions about the goals of education and the value of preserving Indigenous languages and cultures. Teachers are in the unique position to influence the perceptions of their students and the broader community; however, if they are to take on the role of advocates for EIB, this should be reflected in the design and content of teacher education programs. In order to assume this responsibility, teachers not only require the skills but the support of school administrators and the education system as a whole to legitimate the EIB model and oversee the implementation process. Although the EIB approach was introduced as way to address the rights and educational needs of Indigenous populations, originally the intercultural component also aimed at making it a universal model of education. If the goal of EIB is in fact to transform society in fundamental ways and to redefine the relationships between different ethnic groups, education should not only become intercultural and bilingual for Indigenous children, but for all children. This would imply that all teachers would have to be trained in core aspects of EIB and that students of non-Indigenous backgrounds also learn about other cultures and forms of knowledge in their classes. Simply targeting Indigenous children through EIB may result in the proliferation of isolated efforts, such as PADEP/D, which have commendable goals and represent welcome manifestations of change, but are eventually confronted with the barriers posed by rigid social structures and longstanding histories of discrimination. Questions remain surrounding the ultimate goals of EIB and how teachers can go beyond merely recognizing cultural differences to introducing more critical perspectives on the role of Indigenous languages and cultures in their classrooms. In addition to clearly defined concepts and objectives, teachers of EIB require mastery of a comprehensive set of knowledge and skills that combines pedagogy, theory and local knowledge and can enable them to adequately meet the needs of the communities they serve, while opening up new spaces for reflection and dialogue.

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Notes (1) I would like to thank the members of GIZ, particularly, Luis Enrique López, Héctor Mejía and Edín López for their support and invaluable contributions during my time in Guatemala. My thanks also go to the dedicated team at the PADEP/D program who generously offered me the opportunity to learn from their work and experience. (2) All citations from Spanish language texts and interviews were translated by the author.

References Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ) (2012) Programa de Apoyo a la Calidad Educativa (PACE): Informe de la gestión 2011. Guatemala City, Guatemala: GIZ. Directorate of Education Evaluation and Research (DIGEDUCA) (2012) La formación continua y el Programa Académico de Desarrollo Profesional Docente: evaluación de la pri­ mera cohorte de estudiantes 2009–2011. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Ministerio de Educación, DIGEDUCA. Escuela de Profesores de Enseñanza Media (EFPEM) (2009) Programa Académico de Desarrollo Profesional Docente PADEP/D. See http://www.mineduc.edu.gt/recursoseducativos/ descarga/padep/PADEP_D_curriculo_USAC-EFPEM.pdf. Escuela de Profesores de Enseñanza Media (EFPEM) (2012) Programa de Estudios 2012. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Universidad de San Carlos de Guateamal, EFPEM. General Directorate of Bilingual Intercultural Education (DIGEBI) (2009) Modelo edu­ cativo bilingüe e intercultural. See http://www.mineduc.gob.gt/DIGEBI/documents/ modeloEBI.pdf. Hornberger, N. (2000) Bilingual education policy and practice in the Andes: Ideological paradox and intercultural possibility. Anthropology & Education Quarterly 31 (2), 173–20. Hornberger, N.H. (2002) Multilingual language policies and the continua of biliteracy: An ecological approach. Language Policy 1 (1), 27–51. Hornberger, N.H. and Johnson, D.C. (2007) Slicing the onion ethnographically: Layers and spaces in multilingual language education policy and practice. TESOL Quarterly 41 (3), 509–532. López, L.E. (2001) La cuestión de la interculturalidad y la educación latinoamer­ icana. Seminario sobre prospectivas de la educación en la región de América Latina y el Caribe. Santiago, Chile: Oficina Regional de Educación de la UNESCO. López, L.E. (2007) Diversidad cultural, multilinguismo, y reinvención de la educación multicultural bilingüe en América Latina. Universitas. Revista de la universidad politéc­ nica salesiana de Ecuador 5 (7), 103–143. Ministerio de Educación (2005) Curriculum nacional base. Primer ciclo del nivel primario. Guatemala City, Guatemala: MINEDUC. Ministerio de Educación (2006) Curriculo nacional base de formación docente bilingüe intercultural. Guatemala City, Guatemala: MINEDUC. Partnership for Educational Revitalization in the Americas (PREAL) (2008) Educación un desafío de urgencia nacional. Informe de progreso educativo de Guatemala. Guatemala City, Guatemala: Byrsa Ltda. See http://www.oei.es/pdf2/informe-progreso-­ ­educativo-guatemala-2008.pdf.

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Patrinos, H.A. and Vélez E. (2009) Costs and benefits of bilingual education in Guatemala: A partial analysis. International Journal of Educational Development 29 594–598. Ricento, T.K. and Hornberger, N.H. (1996) Unpeeling the onion: Language planning and policy and the ELT professional. TESOL Quarterly 30, 401–428. Rubio, F.E. (2007) Educación bilingüe en Guatemala: situación y desafíos. In V. Álvarez Aragón (comp.) Laberintos: Educación bilingüe e interculturalidad (pp. 39–64). Guatemala City, Guatemala: FLACSO. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2009) Assessment of development results: Evaluation of UNDP contribution. See http://web.undp.org/evaluation/adr/guatemala. html. http://www.undp.org/execbrd/pdf/ADR-Guatemala.pdf Verdugo, L. and Raymundo, J. (2009) Alfabetización de jóvenes y adultos indígenas en Guatemala. In L.E. López and U. Hanemann (eds) Alfabetización y multiculturalidad: Miradas desde América Latina (pp. 181–235). Guatemala City, Guatemala: UNESCO and PACE-GTZ.

7 Indigenous Leaders and the Challenges of Decolonization in Bolivia Luz Jiménez Quispe We are in the process of decolonization, now the thoughts, knowledge, world­ view; oral and written stories come from Indigenous communities. —Aymara leader Walter Gutiérrez Ex CEPO representative

Introduction Decolonization is the key concept for understanding the political process of change in Bolivia. It is a mandatory component of the government’s agenda for structural changes and it appears in most official documents and speeches. The country’s new Constitution states that its main purpose and function is to create a ‘just and harmonious society, founded on decolonization, without discrimination or exploitation, with full social justice, to consolidate the plurinational identities’ (2009, Art. 9.1; emphasis added). Similarly, the new educational law ‘Elizardo Perez and Avelino Siñani’, named after the founders of the first Indigenous school in 1931 (2010, Art. 1), states that Bolivian education should be, ‘Unitarian, public, universal, democratic, participatory, communitarian, decolonizing and with quality’ (emphasis added). Furthermore, in 2009 the government created the Vice Ministry of Decolonization under the Ministry of Culture with a mandate to develop policies for preventing and eradicating all forms of discrimination, racism, xenophobia and cultural intolerance. Then, in 2011 Bolivia’s President Evo Morales declared 12th October as the ‘Day of Decolonization’, instead of the previously recognized ‘Día de la Raza’ (Columbus Day) in a symbolic gesture, reflecting the way in which decolonization is currently framing Bolivia’s cultural, social and economic restructuring, with profound implications for the country’s education reform. Located in the heart of South America, Bolivia has a population of approximately 10 million people that includes 37 different Indigenous 169

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groups including Afro-Bolivian people and 33 languages1 (Instituto Nacional de Estadística de Bolivia (INE), 2001). Forty-eight percent of the population is bilingual or trilingual, speaking various combinations of Spanish and Indigenous languages ​​(López, 2005). Spanish was the only official language since the nation was founded in 1825, but the new Constitution (2009) made all Indigenous languages official as well, requiring that they be used in educational instruction, legal proceedings, public media and all official functions. The country is rich in natural resources: minerals in the Andes and natural gas, gold, precious stones and forest products in the Amazon. Bolivia overall has the largest known concentration of lithium of any country, 5.4 million tons, which can be used to make batteries for hybrid and electric cars (Romero, 2009). Bolivia – together with Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua – is still one of the countries with the highest rates of multidimensional poverty (Comisión Económica para America Latina y el Caribe (CEPAL), 2010). Indigenous populations specifically have been marginalized through forced labor and inadequate education, health care deprivation and other discriminatory practices (Canessa, 2004; Córdova, 2005; McEwan & Jiménez, 2002; Luykx, 1999). All of the practices have negatively affected Indigenous populations and often resulted in extended periods of migration from rural areas to urban areas or to other countries such as Brazil, Chile and Spain. In recent decades, supported by Indigenous peoples’ movements, Bolivia has taken on a new political direction, a shift in national aims and strategies that can be understood in part as a process of decolonization. This chapter considers the theoretical, political and pedagogical dimensions of decolonization within the context of Bolivian society, exploring how the concept is influencing education policies, particularly with regard to the role of Educational Councils of Native Peoples (Consejos Educativos de los Pueblos Originarios (CEPO)) and Indigenous teachers. The chapter demonstrates that education reform is an integral part of decolonization and that reform will take time and result from continuous and at times contentious dialogue among a variety of stakeholders. Never before has an administration in Bolivia made decolonization the centerpiece of its national education program. Bolivia’s new education policies are, without doubt, revolutionary. Teachers, in general, and Indigenous teachers, in particular, will be at the center of the education reform process, and it is thus critical to understand how they perceive the role of decolonization within the education system and in their daily pedagogical practices. The personal reflections I present are based on my experience as an Aymara urban woman and academic from Bolivia who participated in the creation of the country’s new education law, as well as in the design of local,

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regional and national curricula. In recent years, I focused my work on studying and helping teachers design local curriculum materials, a process that occurred in the context of Indigenous communities. This work allowed me to observe the interaction between policy, pedagogical theories and classroom practices.

Globalization, Coloniality and Decolonization Globalization is typically considered a contemporary phenomenon, but for Indigenous people it is not too different from the colonialism and imperialism of the past (Blommaert, 2010). Globalization is simply the contemporary re-creation of these earlier forces and it has similar consequences: racial and cultural discrimination, linguistic subordination and economic exploitation (Anaya, 2004; Bello & Aylwin, 2008). Moreover, the legacy of colonialism and imperialism continues to hurt Indigenous peoples, as their communities have been destroyed, they have lost their land and natural resources, and their knowledge and culture have been commoditized. Colonialism, imperialism and globalization may occupy different historical moments, but they vary only in intensity, scale and speed. As a result, they are all intertwined in current Indigenous discourses at the local and the international levels. Indigenous peoples locate their self-identification within the context of colonial, imperial and globalized power relations among countries and continents (Blommaert, 2010; Melià, 1999). Bolivia’s decolonization efforts can thus be understood as a resistance to the new colonial and imperial power relations in the globalization era. In other words, to make sense of the decolonizing work that Indigenous teachers and CEPOs are attempting to do, we must first consider the nature of ‘colonialiality’ and its multifaceted manifestations in the context of Bolivian society. Coloniality is the present representation of the policies of the colonial past. It refers to the expansion of colonial domination and the perpetuation of its effects in contemporary societies. According to Anibal Quijano (2008a), globalization is the new pattern of global power, the culmination of a process that began with the establishment of colonial/modern Eurocentric capitalism. One of the fundamental axes of this system, which he refers to as coloniality of power, is the social classification of the world population around the idea of race, which he treats as a social construction that expresses the basic experiences of colonial domination. Racial classification saturates the more important dimensions of global power. Quijano asserts that the racial axis, which has a colonial origin and character, is more durable and stable than the colonialism on whose matrix it was established.

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Therefore, the model of power that is globally hegemonic today presupposes the legacy of coloniality (2008b: 181). Coloniality of power thus reflects the way in which colonialism created a social hierarchy based on racial identities, which provided the foundation for the division of labor in the global capitalist system. In addition, coloniality also manifests itself as coloniality of knowledge, which reflects the exclusion of the knowledge and practices of groups placed in an inferior social position. As Quijano (2008b: 209) describes: ‘As a part of the global pattern of power, Europe concentrated under its hegemony the control of all forms of subjectivity, culture, knowledge and its production’. Lastly, Quijano (2008b) associates coloniality to the construction of the nation-state in Latin America. He argues that the dominant groups in Latin America adopted the Eurocentric perspective as their own, using the imposition of race as an instrument of domination. However, the degree of this construction oscillated from one country to another depending on the proportion of colonized races within the total population and the reach of their social institutions. In the case of Bolivia, where the majority of the population is Indigenous, coloniality has been a defining element in the establishment of the nation–state. Consequently, decolonization would not only require new power relations between racial groups but a transformation of the hierarchic relationship between scholars and social groups regarding the contexts and methods of creating knowledge, and the perspectives informing them (Castro-Klaren, 2008; Mendieta, 2007). In other words, decolonization involves changing the idea that Western knowledge is always superior to Indigenous knowledge. Along the same lines, Mignolo (2000, 2008) conceives of coloniality as a world system that constitutes the underside of modernity. His analysis contributes the concept of colonial difference, which he defines as the space where coloniality of power is enacted and the confrontation of local histories is displayed. Mignolo aims to make coloniality visible not simply as a consequence of modernity but as constitutive of it. Coloniality and the colonial difference are the locus of enunciation, an epistemic location that provides a cultural, ideological and political position for the interpretation of power structures and cultural paradigms. Like Quijano, Mignolo (2000: 17) contends that coloniality of power is formed through the classification and reclassification of the planet’s population, operations in which the concept of culture (primitive, stages of development, Europe as the norm) plays a key role. Institutions, such as universities, churches and courts, are created to articulate and manage these classifications. In addition, an epistemological perspective is created to articulate the meaning and the profile of the new matrix of power from which knowledge is produced and channeled. From

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Mignolo’s perspective, decolonization would be based on the notions of border thinking, border epistemology and plurotopic hermeneutics, that is, a post-Western perspective that changes the terms of the dialogue between Western and Indigenous knowledge. The theories identified above can help elucidate the process of decolonization in Bolivia. Education reform can contribute to decolonization by altering the power relations that exist under the coloniality of power and the coloniality of knowledge. By making education available to all without discrimination, and by elevating Indigenous knowledge, the new education system aims to reverse some of the effects of colonialism and imperialism in Bolivian society. However, the current push for decolonization is not entirely new; its origins can be traced back to a history of key achievements from various Indigenous movements during the 20th century. Neither is decolonization a fait accompli. As the discussion below of the educational reform shows, the role of education in decolonization continues to be a matter of debate among educators and many challenges still lie ahead.

Historical Milestones in Bolivia’s Education Policy Bolivian history goes beyond its official history; it has a multilocal network of histories. Some of them are from the Andes, others from the Amazon; still others are clandestine, urban or rural. However, the country’s official history tends to include only milestones related to the formation of the nation–state (De Mesa et al., 1997; Contreras, 1994). Moreover, scholars committed to presenting Indigenous histories in Bolivia have given more attention to the Andean region, to the detriment of the Amazon, thereby promoting and strengthening a linear and predominantly Andean identity for Bolivia (Albó & Barnadas, 1990). The academic work concerning Indigenous peoples of the Amazon has not been a part of the national discourse or the collective imagination of Bolivian identity. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss in detail Bolivia’s historical development, but I will identify and briefly discuss the most significant historical milestones in education during the 20th and early 21st centuries. This analysis pays particular attention to the role of Indigenous movements in the transformation of the education system. The adoption of education by Indigenous peoples as a means of resistance can be traced back to the secret schools that began in the Aymara territory in the early 20th century. When large states started to expand into the highlands, Indigenous leaders, or caciques, realized that it was important to learn how to read and write in Spanish to defend their land in the courts and

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against white lawyers and local authorities (Calderón, 1994; Claure, 1989). These leaders organized schools without giving notice to landowners, as a form of community resistance against the expansion of large estates. Teaching was provided secretly in private homes once a week or once a month. The teachers were Indigenous leaders who had the opportunity to learn to read and write during their military service or when they lived for short periods of time in the cities. The secret schools inspired the school Ayllu Warisata [Communitarian School] (1931–1940), which provided the most significant educational experience for Indigenous peoples at the time. The Warisata school was created to promote the development of Indigenous communities through a bottom-up process that later became the basis for ongoing Indigenous organizing. The Aymara cacique, Avelino Siñani, and the mestizo teacher, Elizardo Pérez, led the Warisata school according to their shared values and visions about education and the Bolivian state. Siñani had been fighting since the beginning of the 19th century to protect Indigenous land and promote Indigenous education, while Elizardo Pérez opposed the theft of Indigenous land and feudal oppression (Pérez, 1962). The Warisata school model had a curriculum with content and activities from the Aymara social organization and covered matters related to agricultural production, livestock and handicrafts (Pérez, 1962). Indigenous education allowed students to avoid having to move to nearby urban areas because the schools were located in Indigenous communities. The daily schedule was divided between productive work and community service, with time devoted to classroom study. Another characteristic of the school model was the organization of a council of Amawt’as (Aymara wise people) who were responsible for decisions about the school. Warisata was a systematic educational experience that tried to break the coloniality of power and coloniality of knowledge. The local Indigenous organization played a main role in education and incorporating Indigenous knowledge into the curriculum. This was a step toward decolonization. The school model was quickly replicated in other Indigenous communities of the Bolivian Altiplano and the lowlands and, later, Warisata was visited by educators from other countries, particularly from Mexico (Velasco, 1940). During the early 1950s, Bolivia experienced a revolution that promised greater inclusion of Indigenous peoples in the national arena. It proclaimed land distribution to Indigenous people as campesinos (farmers), nationalization of natural resources, citizenship for everybody including the Indigenous peoples and education for all people in the country. However, the establishment of the new political model of ‘nationalism’ only consolidated the coloniality of power and coloniality of knowledge. The new education

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system was organized to assimilate and standardize Bolivia’s Indigenous population, transforming schools into instruments for the consolidation of the nation–state. Spanish was the official language of instruction and Indigenous languages were restricted to the early years of schooling. As the Education Code of 1955 states, literacy programs were mandated to ‘use Indigenous languages as a vehicle for the immediate learning of Spanish’. In addition, the new education law aimed to assimilate Indigenous peoples into the dominant culture through education. Some Indigenous traditions became folklore; others were treated as superstitions to be left behind. As Article 115 of this law stated, the aim for basic rural education was to ‘cultivate love for traditions, national folklore and popular applied art, developing their aesthetic sense’. Education was also meant to ‘prevent and eradicate the practices of alcoholism, the use of coca, superstitions and prejudices prevailing in agriculture, through scientific education’. In short, the National Revolution did not deliver on its promises; even as it expanded educational opportunities, it only sought to assimilate Indigenous peoples by imposing Spanish as the language of instruction and pushing Indigenous students and teachers to negate their cultural traditions. Subsequently, in the period between the 1960s and 1990s a number of alternative educational plans were developed with an accelerated expansion of Indigenous organizations. For example, the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) worked for 30 years with at least 17 Indigenous peoples of the lowlands. The SIL developed alphabets, vocabulary, grammar rules and texts written in different languages (López, 2005). In the highlands Martha Hardman, a linguistic anthropologist from the University of Florida, began developing human resources by training Indigenous community members to become the first Aymara linguists. For a year, 75 Bolivian Indigenous professionals studied in the Experimental Bilingual Education Project in Puno, Peru, and learned about Andean linguistics and bilingual education. While some Indigenous peoples were being trained as linguists or bilingual teachers during the 1980s, a variety of bilingual literacy campaigns and other experimental projects with international organizations were being promoted and developed by institutions such as UNICEF, the Episcopal Commission for Education, the Ministry of Education and other institutions (Carrarini et al., 2009). This rich pedagogical period prepared Indigenous teachers to promote an educational model based on Indigenous languages and knowledge. Some Indigenous peoples became teachers and started to introduce Indigenous language and knowledge in their classrooms. Teachers were not only teaching in the schools but they also became leaders engaged in politics related to Indigenous issues. They linked class projects with ethnic demands, creating

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a more complex way to see the political structure. Then, during the 1960s Indigenous peoples enrolled in universities and teacher training institutions for the first time. They were beginning to be what Gramsci (1971) called ‘organic intellectuals’, a thinking group that emerged out of Indigenous communities that would articulate a critique of the ideas and policies that oppressed the masses. They focused their demands on land and territory, intercultural bilingual education, Indigenous self-government and transformation of the nation–state to a ‘multinational’ state. The Tiwanaku Man­ ifesto, a famous document of the Andean Indigenous movement in 1973, provides a clear example of the critical consciousness that emerged among Indigenous peoples during this period: We, Quechua and Aymara farmers, just like those of other native cultures of the country, feel economically exploited and culturally and politically oppressed. In Bolivia there has not been an integration of cultures only a superposition and domination, maintaining us in the lowest and most exploited stratum in the social pyramid. Education doesn’t only seek to convert the Indian into a species of mixed person without definition or personality, but it attempts to assimilate the Indian into the western and capitalist culture. Neither our virtues nor our own vision of the world has been respected […] our culture and our mentality have not been respected. (Tiwanaku Manifesto, 1973) Indigenous leaders thus questioned the goal of assimilation of the education policies introduced in 1950s. However, two more decades would have to pass before the government would change its education policies to accommodate rising pressures from Indigenous groups. The political contribution of the peoples from the Amazon was vital in pushing for significant reforms. In 1990, Indigenous Amazonian peoples launched the first ‘March for Territory and Dignity’. Entire families walked 404 miles (650 km) from the lowlands to the capital city of La Paz, located in the Cordillera de Los Andes (Contreras, 1991). For the first time Indigenous peoples from both the Andean and the Amazonian regions joined forces to make political demands in relation to territory and human and cultural dignity. They also pushed for Constitutional reform, calling for a ‘Plurinational Unitary State’ that recognized the ‘pre-existence of nations and Indigenous peoples with their participation at all levels of government’. In part as a reaction to these pressures, during the 1990s multiple major laws were changed, including the Law on Education Reform, the National Constitution, the Law of Popular Participation and the Decentralization Act. This was the first time that

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Indigenous peoples were recognized legally in the Constitution: ‘Bolivia, free, independent, sovereign, multiethnic and multicultural, constituted in a unitary Republic, adopts the representative democratic form for their government, founded in the union and the solidarity of all Bolivians’ (Art. 1). The Constitution also defined education as the main responsibility of the government, made elementary education compulsory and free and recognized Bolivia as a multicultural country. The education reform proposal was conceived by a taskforce outside the Ministry of Education. The Ministry of Planning established the Technical Support Team of the Law on Education Reform (ETARE). Evaluating Bolivian education and educational innovations developed in recent decades, ETARE reviewed the following bilingual educational projects: Bilingual Intercultural Education Project (PIEB), Multigrade Schools Program (PEM), Warisata, Yachaywasi, Educational Multi services Center (CEMSE) and Fe y Alegria (López, 2005, Nucinkis, 2005). Educational reform focused on intercultural and social participation and sought full coverage of the school-age population through various levels and modalities. Quality of education aimed at having social relevance, both cultural and linguistic, and an up-to-date curriculum. Equity was expressed in equal opportunities for access, progress and retention in the education system for children in rural and urban areas, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, as well as quality of service (Albó & Anaya, 2003; López, 2005; Nucinkis, 2005). Also, the reform included development of human resources with initiatives such as the training of educational advisers and classroom teachers (Hanemann et al., 2005). Finally, the reform promoted the efficient use of human, material and financial resources (Nucinkis, 2005). Thus the reform strengthened public education by increasing educational expenditures, modernizing the Ministry of Education, developing and distributing books and school supplies and increasing parent involvement. However, this education reform process did not play out in the way that its designers envisioned. Because the reform was implemented from the topdown, many teachers did not apply the mandates of the reform because they lacked professional development opportunities. More importantly, the political intentions of reformists were called into question, as interculturalism appeared to cover up the deep inequities among the various cultures of Bolivian society. The democratic system itself lacked legitimacy at the turn of the 21st century, as large segments of the Bolivian population continued to experience poverty and exclusion in spite of democratic reforms. After the election of President Evo Morales with his political party, Movement to Socialism (Movimiento al Socialismo (MAS)), education reform became one of the key components of his agenda. By 2010, the new Avelino Siñani–Elizardo

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Pérez Bolivian Education Law (ASEP law) was approved by Congress. The aim of the new law is to radically change the historically racist, hierarchical order of Bolivian society. Unlike the reform proposed by the government’s technical support team ETARE, the ASEP educational law was formulated in a bottom-up process that included the participation of Indigenous peoples through Educational Councils of Indigenous Peoples (CEPOs), social organizations, teachers’ unions, and academics.

The Educational Councils of Indigenous Peoples (CEPOs) CEPO were created in 1994 to monitor and participate in the formulation of educational, linguistic and cultural policies, particularly those that promote quality education for Indigenous peoples. Many CEPO leaders were members of Indigenous groups who were trained as teachers in bilingual programs. The 1994 Education Reform Act #1565 and the 1995 Supreme Decree #23949 provided the legal basis for the CEPOs. However, the CEPOs attribute their origin not to the law but to the council of Amawt’as (Aymara ‘wise people’) that oversaw the Warisata Indigenous school model. The new educational councils identified three main responsibilities: (a) to defend Indigenous land and territory; (b) to protect Indigenous languages and cultures, particularly through the promotion of bilingual education; and (c) to support Indigenous political and social organizations (personal communication, Apala, 2012). In addition, the CEPOs had the power to impact public policies and teacher training and thus played an important role in the project Institu­ tos Normales Superiores en Educacion Intercultural Bilingue (Higher Normal Institutes in Intercultural Bilingual Education (PINS-EIB)) (Hanemann et al., 2005). The objective of PINS-EIB was to incorporate a subsystem of education and teacher training in Intercultural Bilingual Education (EIB, using the acronym in Spanish for Educación Intercultural Bilingüe) into the framework of Bolivian educational reform for Quechua and Aymara Indigenous peoples. To achieve this goal, three possible outcomes were proposed that focused on the curriculum for EIB education: improvement of EIB knowledge for all actors, inclusion of a gender focus and the strengthening of teacher training institutes (Hanemann et al., 2004). The CEPOs participated in selecting new students based on cultural and linguistic criteria, choosing professors for the teacher training institutes and connecting the institutes with the social and Indigenous organizations at the local and national levels (Hanemann et al., 2005). These experiences have contributed

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to decolonizing the management of the teacher training programs and giving power to the Indigenous peoples. A technical staff member from the Ministry of Education valued this educational experience for teacher training, when he said: Without the PINS-EIB we would not have started the teacher training in EIB in the Normal Institutes, we could not have done anything in relation to the EIB. The PINS-EIB provided us with materials, ideas and approaches to take off with what would be the focus of teacher education with EIB. (Hanemann et al., 2005: 62) The CEPOs participated in teacher trainings and began to have a significant influence on new national policies. Members were able to connect the Indigenous peoples from the Andean and Amazon regions and promote reflection and action on Indigenous education. Also, they proposed implementation of EIB for everyone in Bolivia, including urban and rural areas, and both Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. Between 2001 and 2006, CEPO leaders progressed from controlling Indigenous education in their communities to pushing for and accomplishing national educational reform. They started to formulate educational, linguistic and cultural legislative proposals that eventually became the foundation for the ASEP educational law. In the following example, two CEPO leaders from the Amazon show how their roles changed from controlling the schools to participating in national policy making. This process pushed them to break through the coloniality of power and coloniality of knowledge and take steps toward the decolonizing process. … due to the understanding of popular participation as synonymous with social control, regulation, as we say, we have been struggling with teachers because we have not noticed innovative pedagogical methods concerning how to implement new content into the classroom. (Moye, 2009: 52) … Social participation is state policy; our participation has become state policy. We had to shout, hold demonstrations, movements from our own communities to the government office… As CEPOs, we value that now people are talking about EIB, even though it was rejected at the beginning [...]. The importance of EIB had not matured, but now we see that the EIB is being accepted at national level. Therefore, we say the EIB is already established, it has been accepted. We have EIB as a policy and it has to be implemented. (TL, interview in Machaca, 2009: 149)

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In this way, the Indigenous peoples who were historically marginalized pushed the decolonization of the country forward through their contribution to education reform. When the opportunity to propose and design a new national education policy arose, the CEPOs played a vital role as they were the organizations that were best positioned to make reform a reality.

Development of the Avelino Siñani–Elizardo Pérez (ASEP) Bolivian Education Law Between 2003 and 2004, CEPO representatives from the Amazon and the Andes created and led a large organization and movement to create a new education law: the Indigenous peoples’ block. After consulting with Indigenous communities in the country, the Indigenous block wrote a book, A Native Indigenous Education: Towards Ideological, Political, Territorial and Cultural Self-Determination (2005). Known as the ‘Green Book’, it is the foundation for the design of the ASEP Bolivian Education Law, named in memory of the pioneers of the Ayllu Warisata school. The committee that wrote the law in March 2006 included 21 social, educational and Indigenous organizations and gathered educational proposals and experiences from a variety of educational institutions. The more elaborate proposals came from Indigenous peoples, the rural teachers and the Catholic Church: EIB for all, the inclusion of decolonization in the curriculum, and participation by the local community. Some participants in the design of the law were also members of the Constituent Assembly that reformed the Constitution, so they incorporated education in the New Plurinational Constitution of 2009. When the ASEP law was approved in 2010, it ratified the CEPOs as well as their functions in educational policy and management: The Indian Nations and the peasants, original inhabitants and Indigenous peoples within its organizational structure through their parent organizations, Councils of Education of Native Peoples (CEPOs) with representation at national, regional and trans-territorial levels, participate in the formulation of educational policy and management, ensuring the proper implementation and application of them in the management of the plurinational education to develop an intracultural, intercultural, multilingual, community, critical and supportive education from planning to evaluation at the national and in each of the autonomous territorial entities. (Law ASEP, Art. 92,c.) Without doubt, the CEPOs had managed to influence education policy at the highest levels. It was a reflection of the way in which Indigenous

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social and political movements played an important role in changing the structural organization of the Bolivian State. This was the first time that the Indigenous peoples participated democratically in the development of national policies and got official political positions within the government. The National Constitution, the Education Law and other laws were written through a bottom-up process based on the Indigenous vision and participation, thereby institutionalizing the decolonization that had started decades ago. The CEPOs brought together Indigenous peoples from the Andes and Amazon, who shared the vision of an education system that would respect diversity and promote the Indigenous peoples’ knowledge, languages and self-determination. The ASEP law is based on three pillars: decolonization, community participation and productivity. It supports intracultural, intercultural, and multilingual education. This orientation implies that the Ministry of Education is currently promoting a new education management structure, a new curriculum and teacher training. So far, the Ministry is promoting the improvement of school administration, particularly with regard to the registration of students who want to be teachers and the establishment of better administration of educational system. In addition, in the span of a year, a new curriculum was designed under the Ministry of Education at the request of Indigenous and social sectors; it is to be implemented in 2012. Workshops for collecting Indigenous peoples’ knowledge have been held with adults and the elderly of various Indigenous groups but their specific outcomes are not well known. Teachers will have to implement the new curriculum without any preparation. This situation makes the words of Paulo Freire resonate: ‘no one, however, in a democratic manner, can change the school curriculum from Monday to Tuesday’ (1993: 32). It takes time to change colonial ideologies. Bolivia has a new Constitution, a new education law and an Indigenous president, but some people have not embraced the new education law. Some teachers still support the Educational Code of 1955 and others think that the new education law is the same as the neoliberal 1994 Education Reform Act #1565. It is important to understand and be aware of the various perceptions that teachers have of decolonization through education, especially given the fact that teachers are the actors that will eventually implement the new educational policies.

Teaching in a Changing Society In the last three years, I have been advising the design of regional curricula in two Aymara Indigenous municipalities. During that process, I interviewed Aymara teachers from the Andean region, asking them their views

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of the ASEP educational law and decolonization. For many of them, one of the most positive aspects of the new education law is the significant participation of Indigenous peoples in the reform process. As a leader of the rural teachers put it, ‘The teachers did not approve of the early educational reform bill [1994 Education Reform Act #1565] because it was imposed directly by the government. The law ASEP comes from below, was designed with wide participation’. Indigenous teachers appreciated that their ideas were informing policy, unlike in previous reforms in which policy was based on the beliefs and ideologies of the elite. One rural teacher put it best when he said, ‘If one looks at what Indigenous peoples have done, the policies have always been from below. The dominant groups and the oligarchy have been thinking about Indians for a long time’. Echoing the same sentiment, a school principal in La Paz stated, ‘The role of teachers and educators in Education Reform #1565 was something fixed; however, it [the ASEP Education Law] now caused a revolution in education. This is a change in the structure of thought. Educational liberation is the aim of this reform [the ASEP educational law]’. The legitimacy of the ASEP law is thus attributed to the wide participation of various stakeholders: unions, Indigenous people, academics and students. Nevertheless, while wide support for the reform exists, teachers and educational ministry officials have different interpretations about what decolonization implies for Bolivian educational change. When I asked teachers what they understood about decolonization, their answers were generally vague or they related decolonization only to economic or political sovereignty, without articulating a clear connection to education and curriculum. Similarly, different ideas surface in interviews with Aymara Indigenous officials of the Ministry of Education: ‘When I say “decolonization”, I mean recovering what is good from what we have now, in this reality, and creating a society with more justice, more critical of neoliberalism’. By contrast, another official made a clearer link between decolonization and education when he said, ‘We are in the process of decolonization; now the thoughts, knowledge, worldview, oral and written stories come from Indigenous communities, and the values of Indigenous cultures are in the curriculum of the educational system’. Both opinions are complementary. While one respondent is focusing on decolonizing power, the other is focusing on decolonizing knowledge itself. But the fact remains that the definition of decolonization is still a function of political discourse. It will take time to fully incorporate the ideal of decolonization into the new pedagogical model. In the coming years, teachers will continue to play a critical role in implementation of this reform. One of the main challenges in the reform will be maintaining the integrity of the basic principles behind it, particularly in relation to Indigenous groups in the Amazon region. Despite the inclusion of Indigenous peoples of

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the Amazon in the reform, the national discourse about Indigenous peoples has focused on the Andes. Indigenous people of the Andes have contributed to the election of the first Indigenous president, Evo Morales, who is Aymara and has been able to capitalize on the support of Indigenous movement to gain legitimacy. Morales’ ideology was based on the category of class and on the coca leaf farmers’ unions and his positions were related to class notions. He changed his views, however, after seeing the power the Indigenous movement as shown in the educational reform process, and began to base them on the Indigenous Andean trajectory. This shift has led to the weakening of the Amazon. The Indigenous movement pushed for the recognition of cultural diversity that encompasses both Andean and Amazon Indigenous peoples, but the Indigenous movement is now being co-opted by policies that are based only on Andean nationalism. Furthermore, decolonization is being institutionalized, ‘domesticated’ in the structure of executive power. As a result, many questions arise: Is Bolivia experiencing Andean or Indigenous nationalism? What role does the notion of race play in the reconfiguration of Bolivian politics? Is race a distinction of the past or a construct that is reshaping the relations among the Bolivian people based on skin color, the origin of last names (Indigenous or Western) or birthplace location (rural or urban)? And finally, how does this process affect Indigenous education and the Indigenous teachers’ training?

Final Reflections Decolonization is still a challenge in Bolivian politics and education. Colonialism and coloniality are intrinsically connected, although coloniality is not equivalent to colonialism. Coloniality is a philosophy that permeates the vision of the Bolivian state organization, as well as the vision of its population with respect to the form of citizenship. We could say that coloniality and modernity are two sides of one coin. For Bolivians, the rights, laws and institutions of modernity (status, citizenship and democracy) are still formed in a process of colonial interaction among people from diverse cultural and linguistic origins. Under the coloniality of power based on the idea of race, the justification of domination and exploitation of Indigenous people, peasants, Blacks and women became legitimized. However, since Bolivia developed new policies based on decolonization, and government offices gained a large Indigenous presence, a substantial change in powers and racist practices was expected. The reality today does not reflect that hope, however, because Andean hegemony has been consolidating, keeping people from other cultures at a disadvantage, particularly Indigenous peoples from

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the Amazon region. Therefore, decolonization cannot be reduced to one dimension of social life in the current Bolivian process of change. Such processes decolonize the matrices of power, economy and visions of territory, knowledge, geography and culture. The civilizing matrix changes are not produced only by decolonizing discourses, or by reducing the cultural manifestation in souvenirs for tourists. Rather, decolonization entails broader epistemic transformations with regard to hierarchies in economy, politics, race, spirituality and gender in a system based on the dichotomy between the modern and the colonial. Decolonization demands a social transformation that is not reductionist. In this context, teachers are involved in multiple Indigenous discourses about what a new type of education means. The Bolivian case demonstrates that the process of decolonization is a long and painful one. As noted above, and again paraphrasing Freire (1993), education and the colonial vision cannot be changed from Monday to Tuesday. The education revolution is a collective construction and a dialectic process.

Note (1) The difference between the number of Indigenous peoples and languages is due to the fact that several communities with different cultures share the same language.

References Albó, X. and Anaya, A. (2003) Niños Alegres, Libres, Expresivos: La Audacia de la Educación Intercultural Bilingüe en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: Centro de Investigación y Promoción del Campesinado (Cuadernos de investigación, 58). Albó, X. and Barnadas, J. (1990) La Cara India y Campesina de Nuestra Historia. La Paz, Bolivia:UNITAS/CIPCA. Anaya, J. (2004) Pueblos Indígenas, Comunidad Internacional y Derechos Humanos en la Era de la Globalización. Madrid: Spain: Dykinson. Bello, A. and Aylwin, J. (eds) (2008) Globalización, Derechos Humanos y Globalización. Temuco, Chile: Observatorio de Derechos de los Pueblos Indígenas. Blommaert, J. (2010) The Sociolinguistics of Globalization. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Calderón, R. (1994) “La deuda social” de los liberales de principios de siglo: una aproximación a la educación elemental entre 1900 y 1910. In Data, pp. 53–83. Canessa, A. (2004) Reproducing racism: Schooling and race in highland Bolivia. Race, Ethnicity and Education 7 (2), 185–204. Carrarini, G., Guillermo, F. and Jiménez, L. (2009) Alfabetización de Jóvenes y Adultos indígenas en Bolivia (pp. 35–99). In L.E. López, and U. Hanemann (eds) Alfabetización y Multiculturalidad: Miradas desde América Latina. Hamburg, Germany: UNESCO. See  http://www.unesco.org/uil/en/publs/Alfabetizacion_multi.htm (accessed 10 June 2012) .

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Castro-Klaren, S. (2008) Posting letters: Writing in the Andes and the Paradoxes of the postcolonial debate. In M. Moraña, E. Dussel and C. Jáuregui (eds) Coloniality at Large. Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate (pp. 130–157). Durham, NC and London, UK: Duke University Press. Claure, K. (1989) Las Escuelas Indigenales: Otra Forma de Resistencia Comunitaria. La Paz, Bolivia: HISBOL. Comisión Económica para America Latina y el Caribe (CEPAL) (2010) Panorama Social de America Latina, 2010. See http://www.eclac.cl/cgi-bin/getProd.asp?xml=/publicaciones/xml/9/41799/P41799.xml&xsl=/dds/tpl/p9f.xsl&base=/tpl/top-bottom.xsl (accessed 25 May 2012). Contreras, A. (1991) Etapa de una Larga Marcha. La Paz, Bolivia: Asociación Aquí Avance. Contreras, M. (1994) Reformas y Desafíos de la Educación. In F. Campero (direc) Bolivia en el Siglo XX. La Formación Boliviana Contemporánea (pp. 483–507). La Paz, Bolivia: Harvard Club de Bolivia. Córdova, F. (2005) From marginal to vital: The rise of Indigenous people and the consolidation of democratic stability in Bolivia. Journal of Development and Social Transforma­ tion 2, 61–68. De Mesa, J., Gisbert, T. and De Mesa Gisbert, C. (1997) Historia de Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: Gisbert. Freire, P. (1993) Pedagogy of the City. New York, NY: Continuum International Publishing Group. Gramsci, A. (1971) Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York, NY: International Publishers. Hanemann, U., von Gleich, U., Rodríguez, L., Arispe, V., Casanovas, M., Choque, M., et al. (2005) Nuevos maestros para Bolivia: Informe de evaluación del Proyecto de Institutos Normales Superiores en Educación Bilingüe. La Paz, Bolivia: UNESCO, GTZ. Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas de Bolivia (INE) (2001) Censo Nacional de Población y Vivienda. La Paz, Bolivia: Estado Plurinacional de Bolivia. López, L.E. (2005) De Resquicios a Boquerones. La Educación Intercultural y Bilingüe en Bolivia. La Paz, Bolivia: PLURAL, PROEIB Andes. Luykx, A. (1999) The Citizen Factory: Schooling and Cultural Production in Bolivia. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Machaca, G. (2009) Los Consejos Educativos de los Pueblos Originarios de Bolivia. Proceso de Constitución, Acciones que desplegaron y fortalezas. In Participación Social, Dere­ chos Indígenas y Educación Intercultural Bilingüe. Cochabamba, Bolivia: CEPOS. McEwan, P.J. and Jiménez, W. (2002) Indigenous Students in Bolivian Pri­mary Schools: Pat­ terns and Determinants of Inequities. Washington, DC: World Bank. Melià, B. (1999) Palabra Vista, Dicho que no se Oye. In L.E. López, and I. Jung (eds) Sobre las Huellas de la Voz.Madrid, Spain: Morata. Mendieta, E. (2007) Global Fragments. Globalizations, Latinoamericanism, and Critical Theory. Albany, New York: State University of New York. Mignolo, W.D. (2000) Local Histories/Global Designs: Coloniality, Subalten Knowledge, and Border Thinking. Princeton: Princeton, NJ: University Press. Mignolo, W.D. (2008) The geopolitics of knowledge and the colonial difference. In M. Moraña, E. Dussel and C. Jáuregui (eds) Coloniality at Large. Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate (pp. 225–258). Durham, NC and London, UK: Duke University Press.

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Moye, P. (2009) Procesos de Participación Social en la Educación Boliviana. In Participación Social, Derechos Indígenas y Educación Intercultural Bilingüe. Cochabamba, Bolivia: CEPOS. Nucinkis, N. (2005) Situación de la Educación Intercultural Bilingüe en Bolivia. In La IEB en América Latina Bajo Examen. La Paz, Bolivia: PLURAL, PROEIB Andes. Pérez, E. (1962) Warisata. La Escuela Ayllu. La Paz, Bolivia: Editorial Burillo. Quijano, A. (2000) Colonialidad del Poder, Eurocentrismo y América Latina. In E. Lander (ed.) La Colonialidad del Saber: Eurocentrismo y Ciencias Sociales: Perspectivas Latino­ americanas (pp. 201–246). Buenos Aires, Argentina: CLACSO. Quijano, A. (2008a) The colonial nature of power in Latin America. In R. Briceño-Leon, H. Rudolf and M.L. Morán (eds) Sociology in Latin America (pp. 27–38). Proceeding of the ISA Regional Conference for Latin America, Colonia Tovar, Venezuela, 7–8 July 1997. Montreal, Canada: Service de l’information et des relations publiques de l’UQAN, Service de graphisme. Quijano, A. (2008b) Coloniality of power, eurocentrism, and social classification. In M. Moraña, E. Dussel and C. Jáuregui (eds) Coloniality at Large: Latin America and the Postcolonial Debate (pp. 181–224). Durham, NC and London, UK: Duke University Press. Romero, S. (2009) Bolivia: The Saudi Arabia of Lithium? Seattle Times 3, February. Tiwanaku Manifesto (1973) See http://www.nativeweb.org/papers/statements/identity/ tiwanaku.php Velasco, A. (1940) La Escuela Indígena de Warisata, Bolivia, Vista por los Maestros Mexicanos. Primer Congreso Indigenista Interamericano. CREFAL. See http://peuma.unblog.fr/ files/2008/04/escuelaindigenaldewarisataadolfovelasco.pdf (accessed 23 June 2012).

8 Political Discourse and School Practice in Multilingual Peru Laura A. Valdiviezo Introduction This chapter presents a case study and analysis of political discourse and school practice to explain how intercultural policy with respect to the exclusion of Indigenous peoples is appropriated across political and education institutions in the Peruvian Andes. In particular, the analysis shows that definitions of education and Indigenous peoples reflect a colonial legacy of deficit toward Indigenous worldviews, cultures and languages despite two decades of de jure intercultural policy. Most importantly, the chapter argues for the importance of focusing attention on local teachers as agents of change and on schools as spaces that can foster Indigenous citizenship and challenge socioeconomic inequalities and the overall status quo. The study presents a political discourse analysis of ideology in official presidential statements where education, Indigenous people and their citizenship are defined; and these definitions are contrasted with a case study of local school practices in public education programs serving Indigenous communities. For the purpose of this chapter, ideology is defined as a set of ‘ideas, discourse or signifying practices in the service of the struggle to acquire or maintain power’ (Woolard, 1998: 7). The ideology discussed here refers to beliefs that Indigenous knowledge, language and cultural practices are deficient, and therefore, Western worldviews and language should be dominant. Based on Woolard’s examination of multiple theoretical strands in the conceptualization of ideology, the argument in this chapter pays particular attention to ideology as a meaning mediator for social and political purposes as well as a system of representation that legitimates a social order (Bloch, 1985; Woolard, 1998). Specifically, the ideology of Indigenous deficiency shapes inequities that negatively impact Indigenous communities not only within the school setting – where Indigenous peoples remain underserved – but also in the overall society, where a legacy of colonial structures continues to limit Indigenous peoples’ access to economic resources and prevent them

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from assuming their rightful citizenship. As Chuecas (2007: 143) acknowledges, ‘the degree of the actual exercise of citizenship rights is not the same for all Peruvians’. Chuecas further asserts that the exercise of citizenship status depends on class, gender and the ethnic group of the citizens. The conceptualization of knowledge generation (epistemologies or ways of knowing), legitimization (Mignolo, 2000) and the understanding that ideologies can shape certain epistemologies as legitimate and as the only way of knowing about and acting upon the world, is related to the conceptualization of ideology. As such, this conceptualization of knowledge generation is twofold. First, it informs the analysis of political discourse and formal education to promote practices that construct the dominance of Western worldviews and language at the expense of Indigenous peoples. Second, knowledge generation places a reflexive lens on the nature of the contributions of social science and education research to our knowledge of schools and communities. Of central relevance in this understanding of knowledge generation and legitimization are McCarty’s (2012) insights about the role that social science, and particularly the anthropology of education, has had on the construction of dominant deficit theories – or what she calls the ‘crisis narrative’ – concerning the state of schools, and ethnolinguistic and minority groups (see also responses to this argument by Villenas [2012] and Mehan [2012]). As conceptualizations of ideology and knowledge generation and legitimization prove useful in the analysis of political discourse and school practice overall, they also aid in delineating the assumptions of this chapter: (1) Education’s colonial legacy of Indigenous exclusion is pervasive in contemporary narratives defining education for Indigenous peoples even in the context of official intercultural policy and programs. This colonial legacy shapes inequality in the overall society – within and outside schools. (2) Knowledge about the responses to conditions of inequality that impact the lives of Indigenous peoples has been generated mainly through research focusing on social movements and organizations outside formal education and the schools where such education takes place. (3) In the past, social science and education research has helped generalize the idea that school is solely a space to implement reform, not a space to generate reform; but to reproduce language, ethnic, racial, class, sexual orientation and gender exclusion; and to help maintain hegemonic power. (4) In this ideological context, ethnographic research that concentrates on the implementation of education policy generates an understanding

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that not only expands knowledge about the complexity of education policy but that also counters prevailing knowledge and deficit views about schools and teachers. Based on these assumptions, the argument developed here also intends to respond to current escalating tensions between the Peruvian State and Indigenous peoples. While not attempting to be all encompassing, this chapter suggests that the State’s contradictory discourse on cultural diversity and Indigenous citizenship undermines the democratizing ideals of intercultural education and of the intercultural pluralistic State. Moreover, the political and economic structures of power in the country constitute the continuation of a colonial legacy that, influenced by present international economic systems, reinforces the tensions between the State and Indigenous communities.

Perspectives on Research on the Influence of Politics on Schooling The case study of political discourse and school practice discussed here juxtaposes long-existing ideologies of Indigenous exclusion with a teacher’s pedagogic approach to interculturalidad in the context of intercultural bilingual education (known as EIB, using the acronym in Spanish for Educación Intercultural Bilingüe) programs in the Sacred Valley of Urubamba in the southern Peruvian Andes. Interculturality in education refers to the teaching and understanding of two different cultures on an equal footing through the schooling process (see Chapter 2, this volume). Politically, it is understood as a principle that embraces the pluralistic nature of the nation in order to reaffirm its democratic life. The analysis in this chapter is informed by both ethnographic data gathered through teacher interview transcripts and classroom observations aimed at capturing a teacher’s beliefs and practices in an EIB program, and by qualitative data in the form of interview and presidential speech transcripts where Indigenous issues and education were discussed. Based on an analytical approach that uses multilayered macroand microanalysis of ethnographic data, this study sheds light on the complexities of policy conception and implementation (Hornberger & Johnson, 2007; Ricento, 2006; Valdiviezo, 2013) and on the relevance of the role of teachers as local agents of policy (Menken & García, 2010) particularly in schools serving nondominant students. The findings of the study stress the importance of focusing education and social science research on local teachers in Indigenous programs

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to understand how schools – as institutions where inequalities are often reproduced – can also be a space to challenge the status quo. Certainly, not enough research exists on teachers’ agency in policy making (Menken & García, 2010) and research on activism for social and structural changes continues to overlook the potential of schools as a space for bottom-up reform. In addition, there is a wealth of research literature on teaching, curriculum and teacher education that has not been emphasized in language or education policy for Latin American countries like Peru. This literature underscores the centrality of transformative pedagogies and of critical educators to challenge inequalities and societal disparities (Freire, 1998; Giroux, 1990; Giroux & Purpel, 1983; Kincheloe, 2003; Kincheloe & Steinberg, 1997; McLaren, 2003; Moss, 2001). While in countries like the United States such perspectives have been traditionally reflected in the conceptualization of formal education and its purpose in the development of society, in Latin America, links to education that is transformative or critical of the status quo are not predominant for formal education, in general, or for the EIB program offered to Indigenous peoples, in particular. In fact, it is more common to conceive Freirean critical pedagogy and popular education for nontraditional, nongovernmental or nonformal education settings (see related discussion on the constructions of intercultural education’s neutrality in de jure policy discourse in Valdiviezo, 2010a). The following section of this chapter discusses how contradictions in the intercultural discourse operate at the State level and shape the State’s relationship to Indigenous peoples, particularly through definitions of education and the characterization of Indigenous peoples. It presents excerpts from interviews and speeches from Peruvian presidents Alan García (1985– 1990/2006–2011) and Ollanta Humala (2011–present) in order to analyze their views about education and Indigenous peoples. This analysis identifies some of the most prevailing ideologies in public and political discourse concerning Indigenous peoples and their knowledge, culture and language. The next section discusses the education of Indigenous peoples by EIB, as reported by Wilfredo, a teacher in a rural Quechua school in the Sacred Valley that has been implementing the program since 1996. The ethnographic exploration of Wilfredo’s beliefs and practices, including teaching methods and theoretical approach to intercultural education, leads to the argument that Wilfredo’s progressive praxis holds the potential to transform Peruvian intercultural education. Wilfredo is one of the teachers who conceive EIB schooling as a space for Indigenous recognition, inclusion and social justice. As earlier fieldwork (Valdiviezo, 2006) in rural Indigenous schools reveals, conceptualizations of intercultural education generated by rural teachers can involve processes that foster the deconstruction of values,

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narratives and images that have reinforced colonial hierarchies and politics of marginalization in the Peruvian society. An important part of this process of ideological decolonization is Wilfredo’s critique of the Catholic doctrine and the imposition of the Catholic religion as a component of mandatory curriculum in EIB schools. Wilfredo’s critique stands in stark contrast to political discourse shown through presidential statements.

Interculturalidad and Exclusion in Political Discourse: Citizenship for Indigenous Peoples What we need is to defeat those pantheistic and absurd ideologies that believe that the walls are gods and the air is god…[sic] going back to primitive formulas of religiosity where someone says ‘don’t touch that mountain because it is an Apu and it is filled with a millenary spirit and filled with I don’t know what else’, right? Well if we reach that point then we’d better do nothing. Don’t do mining. ‘Don’t touch the fish because they are God’s creatures and they are the expression of Poseidon’. We are going back to primitive animism, aren’t we? What we need is more education. (Televised interview with Peruvian President Alan García, 28 January 2011; transcribed and translated by the author) Throughout his many media covered interviews, President García has unequivocally defined Indigenous peoples and their values as barriers to the economic development of Peru. His message ridicules Indigenous beliefs, labeling them as primitive and alludes to the absurdity of some (non-Catholic) beliefs. Using a range of adjectives characterizing, the supposed deficits of Indigenous beliefs – which endanger the economic advancement of Peru – García simultaneously promotes education as the means to defeat those beliefs. The corollary of such an ideologically charged message brings Indigenous peoples and education together in an unfortunate encounter whose goal is to colonize the former with the latter. This conception of education is not new, nor are these statements characteristic of President García only. They are representative of the views of generations within elites who have maintained positions of political and economic power in the Peruvian society. What continues to fuel these ideologies, to the point of criminalizing Indigenous peoples, are the stereotypes attached to Indigenous bodies, beliefs, lifestyles and languages. Indigenous peoples have been and continue to be characterized as less than citizens, perceived as dangerous if they speak up and questioned about their own rights and citizenship when

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they attempt to claim them. One example of this type of criminalization is the government’s accusation of terrorism and the subsequent political prosecution of Alberto Pisango Chota, the Indigenous leader of AIDESEP (Asociación Interétnica de Desarrollo de la Selva, the Interethnic Association for the Development of the Rain Forest), a central human rights organization in Peru. The accusation against Pisango occurred in the context of the declarations of Alan García examined above. AIDESEP had questioned the selling of oil concessions to foreign companies on land legally titled to Indigenous communities in the Amazon. Pisango was forced to seek asylum in Nicaragua for almost a year and was only able to return to Peru through the support of other international organizations, though without an immediate resolution of his case and accusation of terrorism. The pervasiveness of ideologies of Indigenous exclusion is of great relevance in the context of contemporary Peru where for the past 20 years those ideologies have coexisted with legislation and, particularly, with education laws about interculturality. Public statements like President García’s – and the legal and coercive actions his government imposed against Indigenous peoples – blatantly contradict the principle of interculturality that calls for the recognition of Indigenous peoples and their languages and cultures, and promotes pluralism for the development of democracy in the country. On 5 June 2009, during the midst of bloody encounters between police and Indigenous people who were protesting the violation of their rights in the Amazon region, President García spoke to the press in Lima justifying violence against Indigenous protesters: Estas personas no tienen corona...Estas personas no son ciudadanos de primera clase… [These people do not wear a crown…These people are not first-class citizens…] (5 June 2009) That day, police and Indigenous clashes ended in the Massacre of Bagua. Citizenship for Indigenous peoples in Peru has been an issue discussed at length, ever since the development of Spanish colonial legislation for the colonized territories in the Americas. The rationale for government legislation has been based on a variety of sometimes contradictory characterizations of Indigenous peoples, ranging from a deficiency of their moral character to their virtues as hardworking and loyal subjects (Zarza Rondón, 2010). In contemporary Peru, as established in the country’s Constitution, Indigenous peoples have citizenship by virtue of birth place (Peruvian Constitution, 1993). However, an analysis of the elements of Indigenous citizenship must consider the extent of Indigenous peoples’ practice of

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autonomy, self-representation and democratic participation in Peruvian society. Further pointing at the complexity of Indigenous citizenship in this context, Chuecas asserts: Citizenship is directly connected to the character of democracy. Often, it is believed that the manifestation of citizenship takes place exclusively through the exercise of individual rights, of legal citizenship. Clearly these are fundamental elements; however we ought to broaden the notion of citizenship and to incorporate intercultural citizenship that recognizes the different Indigenous cultural traditions that are part of a society; a society which is capable of valuing them and fostering spaces for these traditions to be expressed and represented in the country’s governance. (Chuecas, 2007: 143) Indeed, for those involved in social science research and those engaged in human rights activism, the issue of Indigenous citizenship presents a concern, particularly in the context of recent pressures to increase foreign economic investment in the country. It is in this context that President García indicated the lower status of the rights and voice of Indigenous peoples compared with those of other citizens in the country. In fact, after García stated that Indigenous peoples do not have special rights, he went on to define them as inferior because they are ‘not first-class citizens’. García’s statements offer a clear example of the ideologies informing in the characterization of Indigenous peoples that pervades in public and political discourse. The most salient characterizations of Indigenous peoples within these ideologies are: (1) Indigenous peoples’ beliefs are absurd and backward. Often, such assertions are extended to Indigenous knowledge, language and cultural practices. As it has been frequently stated in the Spanish language: Indigenous peoples (and any person without formal schooling from sectors with low socioeconomic status) ‘lack’ culture. (2) Indigenous peoples are an obstacle to economic development. This view reflects historical references to Indigenous peoples as obstacles to civilization, progress and the unification or development of the nation state. (3) Indigenous peoples are less than citizens. Despite policy that establishes that Indigenous peoples are citizens (Peruvian Constitution of 1993), political discourse and social practice – as de facto policy – contradict the law. Within this contradiction, the enactment of citizenship through civic and political participation in the Peruvian society

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is not a right but a privilege attached to socioeconomic status or social class, and ethnicity or race. (4) The purpose of (formal, mainstream and public) education is to defeat or ‘fix’ Indigenous peoples. This construction conceives education as a tool to ‘civilize’ Indigenous peoples by purging them of their ‘absurd’ beliefs and cultural practices, including their language. Education, conceived as formal education only, will bestow (mainstream, Eurocentric and non-Indigenous) culture upon Indigenous peoples. Therefore, rather than attributing these negative characterizations of Indigenous peoples solely to President García, it is clear that such characterizations have been widespread in political discourse and historically ingrained in social practice. This characterization, together with pervasive racism in the Peruvian society, has arguably contributed to shape and justify violence against Indigenous peoples throughout different periods of history. These periods include the critical two decades of political violence between 1980 and 2000 when 70% of the almost the 70,000 victims of terrorism were Indigenous; and the most recent clash between members of Indigenous communities in the Amazon and the police that ended in the Massacre of Bagua in 2009, with the number of Indigenous civilian deaths remaining uncertain until today. Although not always publicized, violent clashes continue between the military or police and Indigenous peoples who dare to protest for their rights over their land and livelihood. Arguably, ideologies of Indigenous exclusion pervade in social practice even as we witness how discourses of inclusion and recognition of historically excluded peoples may be gaining momentum under a new political administration. At the time this chapter was written, recently elected President Ollanta Humala (2011–2016) is appearing to separate himself from the blatantly discriminatory discourse of former President García. Having inherited a broken relationship between the government and Indigenous peoples, Humala’s government faces both social conflict through popular protests across the nation and external pressures, particularly from politically influential mining and energy corporations that aim to establish their operations in rural regions of the country that are rich in valuable resources. These are also the regions where most Indigenous populations live.

Recent Changes in the Status of Indigenous Peoples In a context of tensions that are becoming increasingly explosive, Indigenous issues continue to be addressed with deficit approaches, even though present political discourse is attempting to reach for consensus that includes

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Indigenous voices. In September 2011, for example, President Humala’s administration passed the Consultation Law with Indigenous communities that is aimed at protecting Indigenous communities from the incursion of extractive businesses on their land without their consent. The following is an excerpt from President Humala’s speech to Indigenous communities from the northern Amazon in which he introduces legislation mandating consultation with Indigenous communities by companies intending to initiate extractive activities on Indigenous land: We need to improve education not only here but in the whole region up to the country’s border…We need to bring health to the most impoverished communities of the region… and we need to bring drinking water. We have to [do] this in an orderly fashion, but in order to do that I need your participation. I hope that this law constitutes a step forward for you to become citizens. But I hope this law is not abused. The purpose of this law is the development of Indigenous peoples from the Amazonian communities of the whole region. That is the spirit of the law which we will preserve and monitor so that no one will disrespect any community…Development is my commitment to all of you and this is not a favor I am doing to you, it is my obligation to all of you. (6 September 2011; transcribed and translated by author) The State’s mission as provider of education for Indigenous development continues to constitute a central element of the political discourse that defines the role of education in the lives of Indigenous peoples. From the point of view of the State, education is what Indigenous peoples lack but need, and it is what the government is supposedly committed to provide. Development, in the words of the President, should reach ‘the whole region up to the country’s border’ – regions that historically have remained ‘undeveloped’ or impoverished and isolated from government presence. The objective of the law of consultation is to bring development through education and health care for Indigenous communities. The idea of development is somewhat related to the consultation law in the President’s speech as ‘the purpose of this law is the development of Indigenous peoples from the Amazonian communities of the whole region’; however, it is unclear if the intent would be to consult with Indigenous peoples about, for example, bringing education and health care to their communities as promised by the President, or would encompass whatever activities the companies conduct in the region. What is clear, however, is that the President’s assertions are positioning Indigenous peoples as receivers of the benefits that the government provides through law.

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In a less antagonistic message than García’s, Humala has expressed his commitment to Indigenous peoples, clarifying that inclusion of them in government policies and practices is not a favor but an obligation of the President. Still, Humala defines citizenship as a not-yet-attained status for Indigenous peoples, but something that the implementation of this law may help them attain as it ‘constitutes a step forward for you [Indigenous peoples] to become citizens’. Moreover, according to Humala’s statement, Indigenous citizenship can be granted through the implementation of legislation that allows Indigenous peoples to voice their concerns and be involved in decisions about their land. Thus, while calling for Indigenous participation as a first step in the exercise of citizenship, Humala’s statements also define citizenship as did García, not as a right, but as an unattained goal for Indigenous peoples. Contradicting de jure policy, political discourse defines citizenship as a conditional status to be conferred on the Indigenous peoples by either the President or the government. References to ownership, rights and obligations shared or not by the State, companies and Indigenous communities under the consultation law are somewhat blurry in President Humala’s speech as he states that his commitment to bring education, health care and development to Indigenous peoples depends on their participation in a law that is ‘not to be abused’. His speech leaves uncertain whom the President is asking not to abuse the law: the Indigenous audience or the companies. On one hand, communities of Indigenous peoples could abuse the law if they decide to deny up-front any access to companies to Indigenous land, in which case, as common development discourse professes, opportunities for progress in the region may be blocked. On the other hand, ‘abuse of the law’ may mean for President Humala that companies would take advantage of the communities and make decisions without consulting with them even though they have an important stake in such decisions. These are the types of decisions that in many cases have proven costly to Indigenous communities, impacting them negatively for generations. Humala’s speech seems to distribute the responsibility for not abusing the law between Indigenous peoples and companies, though not necessarily the government, and to blame both for abuse. In statements that put distance between himself and President García’s openly conflictive relation with Indigenous peoples during his earlier administration, President Humala asserts his commitment to the development of Indigenous communities not as a special favor to them. At the same time, he requests Indigenous participation in the implementation of the law in a way that may not compromise development opportunities. This message reveals important tensions in political discourse that aim at increasing Indigenous

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inclusion while promoting development under strict and top-down terms as defined by those in power. Development, as defined by President Humala, is access by Indigenous communities to formal education and health care as offered by the State. The President may also offer development as the opportunity for companies to invest in and perform extractive activities on Indigenous land. Based on a deficit perspective, President Humala’s speech continues to emphasize education as something that the State brings to impoverished peoples and that they lack. What continues to be absent within these statements is the actual recognition and inclusion of Indigenous knowledge, language and culture, even as intercultural legislation has been in place for two decades and EIB programs have been serving an important sector of Indigenous populations across the nation.

New Shifts in Discourse about Education for the Indigenous Such ideological and contradictory encounters are of particular importance as they can provide spaces to challenge education as a colonizing means by reconceptualizing it in the realm of diversity and pluralism. Beyond pedagogical reform in the classroom, the reconceptualization of education requires a sober analysis of societal conflicts and substantial ideological transformation impacting society at large. To aid in this transformation, social science research needs turn its attention to the central role of teachers and to the importance of teaching and learning in the classroom in informing theory and policy. For example, the principle of interculturality has seldom been measured against actual teaching practices in the Indigenous classroom in Peru. While important contributions continue to be made to further an understanding of the role and challenges of interculturality, Indigenous rights, identity and the promotion of Indigenous citizenship (De la Cadena, 1991, 2000, 2006; De la Cadena & Starn, 2009; García, 2003, 2005a, 2005b; García & Lucero, 2008), there is a scarcity of research about the local (intercultural) pedagogies used in Indigenous classrooms that could inform such investigations. Research needs to acknowledge formal education when searching for human agency for social change, instead of assuming that it occurs outside classrooms and schools. By focusing on teachers’ beliefs and practices in EIB, the research described here calls attention to the connection between what teachers do in the classroom and the exclusion or inclusion of Indigenous peoples in the larger Peruvian society. Similarly, counter to the all-encompassing

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assumption that schools constitute just a space to promote assimilation aimed at defeating Indigenous peoples, this research calls attention to the possibilities for social transformation that are in the hands of teachers.

An Analysis of Beliefs and School Practice in Educación Intercultural Bilingüe The incorporation of the concept of interculturality into education and government policy discourse in Peru has meant an important shift from discourses of exclusion to those of pluralism and democratic participation for all. However, the coexistence of de facto exclusion, discussed above, and de jure inclusion discourses permeate social practice and education pedagogies in ways that continue to reproduce inequality and the social, economic and political marginalization of Indigenous peoples and other ethnic minorities in Peru (Valdiviezo & Valdiviezo-Arista, 2008). In this ideological context, it is important to ascertain what intercultural education looks like in the public schools of Indigenous communities. Thus, this section focuses on an ethnographic investigation of teachers and language policy in EIB programs in the southern Peruvian Andes (Valdiviezo, 2006). The analysis here focuses on a teacher in an Indigenous classroom as the site of the ultimate enactment of interculturality. The underlying assumption of this approach is that classrooms represent a microcosm of society – with its own tensions, conflicts and inequalities, as well as possibilities for resistance and transformation of the status quo. Moreover, the importance of paying attention to schools is based on understanding their historical role; the colonization of the Americas, along with the Catholic Church, offered Indigenous pupils their first exposure to a homogenization effort that explicitly suppressed Indigenous knowledge, values and cultural practices while justifying and maintaining Indigenous subordination through a classist social structure. Education and schools served the purpose of cate­ quización (instruction in the Catholic doctrine with the purpose of religious induction or conversion) and subsequent castellanización (linguistic and cultural homogenization through the imposition of Spanish as national language) (Valdiviezo, 2013). At the same time, observation of local practices in schools and their relation to education in general has enabled the envisioning of counter-hegemonic possibilities (Zavala, 2002) as an alternative to homogenization efforts. In that vein, this chapter argues that teachers’ beliefs and actions in Indigenous settings can engender alternatives to the pervasive conceptualization of education as means to colonize and defeat Indigenous peoples in schools and society.

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Wilfredo: His Teaching Philosophy and Methods Wilfredo is a first-grade teacher in his early 30s who was raised in a Quechua-speaking home but received his formal education in Spanish only. He is a reflective practitioner who constantly engages in critical conversations (Valdiviezo, 2010b). In these conversations, he and his colleagues talk about EIB, how policy affects practice and how EIB may affect the present and future of Indigenous children and their communities. Wilfredo critiques EIB for what he identifies as its tendency to focus on language education and its disregard for intercultural education. Teachers like Wilfredo believe that EIB educators need to learn about Indigenous culture and, in order to do so, they need to learn research skills and go into the community to learn from its members (Valdiviezo, 2009). However, for Wilfredo there is no sense in waiting to be trained in how to conduct research because opportunities for professional development are scarce and even when they are available professional development is mostly devoted to ways to develop students’ ability to read and write in Quechua and Spanish. In addition, most of Wilfredo’s school colleagues are experienced teachers and have worked in the EIB program since its implementation in 1996. However, none of them were prepared to be a bilingual teacher nor did they receive professional development addressing intercultural pedagogy (Valdiviezo, 2010a). As it has tended to happen in many public schools implementing EIB, teachers are left to find their own means to provide intercultural education. Guided by his interest in learning about the local culture and language use, Wilfredo visits the community surrounding the Indigenous school, communicates with parents and engages on his own in a study of the language and cultural practices of the community. Later, he brings what he learns about these practices to the school and talks with his colleagues about them as he strives to incorporate Indigenous culture in the EIB curriculum. Early in the morning Wilfredo’s students, who are the youngest in the school, line up on the school patio along with students from other grades to sing the Peruvian national anthem, solve riddles and math problems, and sing songs and recite poetry in Quechua. As mandated for EIB schools in the region, instruction takes place in Quechua on Monday, Wednesday and Friday; and in Spanish on Tuesday and Thursday. Teachers use this language schedule as a guide but they make decisions about language use in the classroom based on what they believe is possible according to their students’ language development. Wilfredo’s first-grade students are monolingual Quechua speakers. Thus, he teaches in Quechua with the exception of some activities that require the use of phrases in Spanish. After bringing his students into the classroom, Wilfredo sings in Quechua and dances with

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them. He has decorated the classroom walls with print: posters with songs, poetry and activities. He has also designed mobiles with the children’s names that hang over each classroom table. During the classroom activities, students decorate the letters of the Quechuan word huk, which means one, by tracing and gluing each letter on a little piece of paper. Children also sing a song whose lyrics are written on a poster and they take turns coming to the front of the class to look at the lyrics, identify and point at the word t’ika, flower in Quechua. Wilfredo closely follows what the children do. He goes from table to table and sits next to each child, explaining to them what to do and rewarding them verbally in Quechua. If children get into a fight, Wilfredo gently makes them apologize to one another. He uses games and songs to introduce Spanish to the children. Children practice Spanish by using the language to ask and answer the question ‘what’s your name?’ when playing a game where they line up and walk together imitating a train. Wilfredo patiently models each activity until he is sure his students understand what they are expected to do. He knows that his first graders are able to participate and learn only when he uses Quechua for communication; however, Wilfredo’s understanding of indigeneity is not limited to the choice of language used. In many conversations with colleagues and researchers, he states that it is important to take into account Indigenous knowledge and cultural practices in his classroom.

A Teacher’s Beliefs as an Alternative Pedagogical Narrative If I teach the content area of Catholic religion as dictated by the Ministry of Education, I come to class and see that the children don’t know about God, but their spirituality is rooted in the Apus [Mountain Spirit] and the Pachamama [Mother Earth]. Then why couldn’t we begin teaching from there? Why does the Ministry prescribe teaching the Catholic religion, which is an area children in my classroom don’t know? We are going against the children’s own spirituality when we teach from a Western viewpoint. We are not teaching through a cultural approach that comes from the own community. (Interview of Wilfredo; translated from Spanish into English by the author) As a teacher, Wilfredo knows that Indigenous students in the community where he teaches bring their own spiritual beliefs to the classroom. Students’ beliefs about Apus and Pachamama contrast with the Ministry of

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Education’s prescribed curriculum on the Catholic religion as well as with Alan García’s comments. While Roman-Catholicism is the official religion of Peru – a particular situation in Latin America where other States are secular – Wilfredo believes that teaching the Catholic religion to Indigenous children violates their native spirituality. He asserts that his students’ own beliefs are ignored within a top-down national curriculum that portrays a dominant culture to the detriment of cultural diversity. Interestingly, within Eurocentric or Westernized views of teaching and learning, the introduction of new topics is most often considered desirable as a way to spark students’ curiosity about learning and increase their knowledge. However, educators who are critical of Eurocentric education views assert that such views of teaching and learning ignore issues of power inequality that inform curricular conceptualization and implementation (Apple & King, 1983; Giroux & Purpel, 1983). Wilfredo’s evaluation of the Ministry’s curricular prescription for EIB uses a similar framework to that employed by critical pedagogues and educators who criticized the hegemonic purposes of Eurocentric models of education (Apple & King, 1983; Giroux & Purpel, 1983; Grande 2004; McLaren 2003). In that light, teaching the official religion in the Indigenous classroom does not constitute an effort to expose children to new content for their benefit as learners; instead, as Wilfredo states, it is a matter of imposing Eurocentric, Westernized, non-Indigenous worldviews on Indigenous children. In contrast with García’s, and even Humala’s, statements, Wilfredo acknowledges that Indigenous children already have their own beliefs and they bring their own knowledge to school, which is to be valued and used as a departure point for further learning. Thus Wilfredo opposes the deficiency views about Indigenous knowledge, culture and language that are commonly expressed in public and political discourse and that inform the education policies and practices for Indigenous students. He believes that teachers like himself can counter such views through their beliefs and classroom teaching. As examined elsewhere, education legislation acknowledges and mandates respect for Indigenous knowledge, culture and language through EIB programs (Valdiviezo, 2010a, 2010b); however, education for Indigenous peoples in EIB programs, as Wilfredo asserts above, still can be used as the means to colonize and defeat Indigenous peoples’ beliefs. An overview of the history of schooling for Indigenous populations in Peru substantiates Wilfredo’s views: the legacy of colonial education for Indigenous peoples is enacted through a process of systemic imposition of Western knowledge as a replacement for Indigenous students’ worldview, culture and language. In fact, schools have even employed the Western tradition of using violence

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as a way to make students learn and behave as mandated: corporal punishment in rural schools, an example of this appropriation, was a mode of punishment used until recently, particularly when Indigenous students tried to communicate in their own language or were unable to regurgitate what they were expected to memorize in Spanish, a language that Indigenous students could not speak or understand. Throughout history, education for the Indigenous has been seen as a civilizing tool, a means of enculturation and assimilation. As shown in Wilfredo’s critique of the Ministry’s curriculum for teaching the Catholic religion in the Indigenous classroom, education may continue to bear its colonizing mission in spite of President Humala’s attempt to address Indigenous peoples in seemingly more democratic ways than did President García. Beyond the analysis of Wilfredo’s beliefs about interculturality, and Indigenous knowledge and spiritual beliefs, it is important to understand that the construction and exclusion of Indigenous citizenship in EIB programs occurs through pedagogies and practices in the schools that serve Indigenous peoples; thus, it is relevant to examine both Wilfredo’s beliefs and actions in the intercultural bilingual program.

Intercultural Teaching Practice Prior to sitting at their tables every day, Quechua children in the first grade stand to pray to Jesus in Quechua. They repeat each line of the prayer that Wilfredo reads. The prayer is hand written on a chart posted on one of the classroom corners. Above the chart there is a large poster of the face of Jesus Christ. Catholic praying is not an uncommon practice in all EIB programs as public schools follow a national curriculum that mandates the teaching of the official religion of the country. (Author’s field notes) As an EIB school teacher, Wilfredo follows a curriculum prescribed by the Ministry of Education. However, as he has gained experience in the EIB program and has learned more about his students, he has also begun to make decisions about how and what to teach from the prescribed national curriculum. Reflecting on his students’ learning and responding to the new insights he gained from working with the children, he developed new teaching materials and activities. While daily Catholic praying is prescribed in school curriculum, Wilfredo questions such practice as he also strives to teach what is meaningful for his students.

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Three months after my observation of praying in the first-grade classroom took place, Wilfredo decided to actively explore religious or spiritual local practices to include them in his teaching. Intuitively, he followed his interest in learning from the actual practices of the Indigenous community surrounding the school. A school colleague, the third-grade teacher, joined Wilfredo in this exploration. The two teachers collaborated to design and teach a unit on Mother Earth that involved Indigenous parents and actual cultural practices from the Quechua community; the school principal allowed this unit but an official from the Ministry of Education later delegitimized it and called it absurd (Valdiviezo, 2009). The unit included a complex set of activities to discuss the significance of Mother Earth. Wilfredo and his colleague garnered parental support and invited parents to conduct a thanksgiving ceremony to Mother Earth on the school grounds. They designed lessons and follow-up activities for first and third graders to enhance their learning about Mother Earth through different modalities, including writing, drawing, and labeling symbols that were used in the thanksgiving ceremony; and to acknowledge and discuss other community cultural practices. Contrary to the way that traditional education has denied Indigenous peoples the validation of their own knowledge, cultural practices and language within the classroom, the unit that Wilfredo and his colleague designed openly acknowledged an Indigenous cultural practice in the school space. The unit also welcomed parents as members of an Indigenous community who provide a valuable contribution to formal learning inside the school. Through actual teaching, Wilfredo and his teacher colleague fostered possibilities to counter schools’ colonial legacy of Indigenous exclusion.

Critical Conversations about Language Other practices that Wilfredo engages in as an EIB teacher are also important to note as they help shape his teaching. As a teacher who engages in critical conversations, Wilfredo finds time outside the classroom to discuss teaching dilemmas with his school colleagues. He analyzes the significance of teaching vocabulary words in Quechua by using different versions of the language. The version of Quechua spoken in the community uses three vowels (a, i and u) whereas the version of Quechua pentavocálico, shown in academic and literary publications, utilizes the five vowels also represented in the Spanish language (a, e, i, o and u). Wilfredo defines the academic version of Quechua as a product of colonization. Based on this view, he

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reflects upon the impact of teaching such content on his students’ language awareness and use: ‘Is this adding or subtracting to the Indigenous students’ home language?’ ‘How will teaching about Quechua pentavocálico impact on my students’ use of language now and in the future?’ ‘Will Quechua disappear from their lives?’ Interestingly, without the support of the Ministry’s officials and those who oversee the administration of EIB, Wilfredo and teachers like him, have the autonomy to engage in innovative practices inside and outside the classroom that infuse interculturality and Indigenous knowledge into education activities. As a critical practitioner, Wilfredo also embraces changes in his own teaching. Therefore, after acknowledging that the religious (Catholic) education content prescribed in the Ministry’s curriculum constitutes an imposition on Indigenous beliefs, he takes initiative and engages in research and teaching that brings Indigenous knowledge and cultural practices into the EIB classroom. At the same time, such beliefs and practices are usually not taken into account in schools other than Wilfredo’s, and thus use of intercultural pedagogy is not widespread. When the valuable knowledge that teachers can impart in the service of intercultural education is dismissed, ideologically charged notions about education and Indigenous peoples are left unchallenged not only within schools but also in society at large. It is in this environment, which promotes intercultural education through laws but demotes it through institutional practice, where the EIB teacher becomes an autonomous (re)interpreter of policy in practice and a creative agent who is able to counter pervading narratives of exclusion.

Rethinking Education and Indigenous Peoples As described above, Wilfredo’s teaching practices validate Indigenous beliefs and cultural (spiritual) practices in the school curriculum by teaching about them and also by inviting parents to conduct a ceremony on school grounds that pays tribute to Mother Earth. Both his and his colleagues’ use of local practice explicitly acknowledges its value to school and counters traditional education’s imposition of Western, Eurocentric, non-Indigenous culture and language as the only legitimate forms of knowledge. His method of teaching reflects the theory of critical pedagogy that Grande (2004: 21), citing McLaren (2003), defines as ‘an approach to schooling – teaching, policy making, curriculum production – that emphasizes the political nature of education’. While this chapter does not provide an extensive analysis of teaching from a critical pedagogical perspective, it is important to point at the

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potential for bringing this lens to discussions concerning schools and teachers serving Indigenous communities in Peru. Often considered a strategy for only nonformal school spaces, the tenets of critical pedagogy situate Wilfredo as a transformative intellectual, researcher and agent of personal and social change who is able to transform his own teaching in ways that counter dominant exclusionary discourse and allow a vision of social justice (Freire, 1998; Giroux, 1990; Giroux & Purpel, 1983; Kincheloe, 2003; Kincheloe & Steinberg, 1997; McLaren, 2003; Moss, 2001).

EIB Schools as a Space for Indigenous Citizenship The above analysis of the Peruvian Presidents’ statements show that a closer look at the seemingly different tones used by Presidents García and Humala when addressing Indigenous peoples are nevertheless similarly informed by underlying deficit and exclusionary ideologies concerning Indigenous peoples’ beliefs, their role in Peru’s economic development and their rights to citizenship and education as offered by the State. Whether the message used to address Indigenous peoples is despotic or more democratic, political discourse in multilingual Peru openly contradicts de jure intercultural State and EIB policy since it denies the recognition of citizenship status for Indigenous peoples. Thus, even in the context of intercultural policy and EIB programs, the ideologies represented in political discourse continue to shape the relationship between the State and Indigenous peoples: the current increasing tensions between them in general and type of public education offered to these communities in particular. In this context, knowledge about the local enactment of education policy for Indigenous peoples in EIB proves crucial. An ethnographic approach to teachers’ ideas and actions in EIB elucidates the complexity of teaching in EIB, where teachers may be both reproducing inequality and challenging the status quo (Valdiviezo, 2006). This approach allows us to look at the specific enactment of means to challenge inequality and at possible ways that teachers can acknowledge and foster Indigenous citizenship. Certainly, Wilfredo’s ideas and practices do not explicitly refer to issues of citizenship, nonetheless they acknowledge the identities of his students and their families in ways that concretely embrace Indigenous spirituality within the institution of the public school. The ethnographic evidence of Wilfredo’s teaching offers a vision of what teachers can accomplish in the context of education programs serving historically underserved populations. Wilfredo’s beliefs and practices in the EIB program serving Indigenous Quechua children offer an example of the contradictions present in the construction of Indigenous citizenship through a pedagogy of inclusion of Indigenous

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language, knowledge and participation. From a curriculum that mandates the teaching of the Catholic religion while ignoring students’ own spiritual practices, to the lack of institutional support and recognition of teachers who take initiative to incorporate and validate Indigenous knowledge and culture in school, EIB largely embodies the deficit ideologies that are present in political discourse. Thus it is possible to understand how by offering an education that denies their identity even as EIB may be claiming to acknowledge the value of the Indigenous language, schools serving Indigenous children may be reproducing the idea that Indigenous peoples are not Peruvian citizens, that they do not have a voice or a right to participate in the larger society. The denial of the rights and citizenship of Indigenous peoples may a be common theme in political discourse narratives; however, as the analysis of Wilfredo’s beliefs and practices reveal, teachers’ critical conversations and reflections about their students and their own teaching do not signal doubts about the citizenship status of Indigenous peoples: above all, Wilfredo’s teaching reflects the fundamental recognition of Indigenous students not only as active learners but also as contributors to education who, with their communities, bring fundamental knowledge and cultural practices to school. In this light, it is important not to lose sight of the role of schools in the construction of citizenship that, in fact, involves democratic participation, voice and engagement with the larger society.

Conclusion This chapter offers a critical account of the impact of colonial legacy on public education policy and programs in Peru. Cultural, religious and language conversion to Spanish Catholicism were strategic for the political– economic colonization of Indigenous peoples. The presidential statements cited in this chapter reveal that current Peruvian dominant culture is still reproducing colonial images about Indigenous cultures and peoples. They fuel the State’s treatment of Indigenous peoples as subjects whose beliefs ought to be defeated through education because they constitute an obstacle to economic and national development. While a colonial legacy continues to shape tensions between the State and Indigenous communities, an additional important factor influencing these tensions is the presence and interest of national and international corporations in the exploitation of natural resources on Indigenous lands. In this context, it has been easy to lose sight of possibilities to counter the colonial legacy and the grave inequalities it engenders, not only for Indigenous communities but for the Peruvian society at large.

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The role of research in constructing a new discourse and promoting schools’ and teachers’ efforts to challenge inequality and lead social change should be noted in order to rethink ways to more effectively disseminate knowledge concerning schools as formal institutions. It is important to take into account of the following: (1) A shift in research focus is needed to illuminate local teachers’ ideas and actions and their significance beyond schools, since teachers may have the potential to generate reform, challenge the status quo and improve intercultural theory and policy in order to promote social change within schools. (2) Ethnographic research and interdisciplinary perspectives – such as critical pedagogy and the conception of teachers as transformative intellectuals – that concentrate on education policy and practice can help increase knowledge about their complexity and also counter prevailing deficit views about schools and teachers in Latin America, specifically in Peru. The discussion here aims to shed light on teachers as central actors in order to underscore their expertise in intercultural education. Teachers ought to be heard, acknowledged and supported not only so that that they can inform education policy and theory, but also so that there can be a fundamental shift in the process of intercultural policy design and implementation. The ethnographic account of Wilfredo’s approach to the education process demonstrates the use of intercultural teaching to counter the common ideologies of Indigenous exclusion permeating EIB. It serves as platform for further discussion of the obstacles and affordances of intercultural policy and practice in contemporary Peruvian society where new government initiatives may begin to emerge but where Indigenous exclusion has historically prevailed and Indigenous peoples continue to be considered an obstacle to societal progress and a problem to be overcome. As Wilfredo’s case shows, intercultural critical practices in rural schools serving Indigenous communities are crucial resources to improve Peruvian public education and the rightful education of Indigenous citizens.

Acknowledgments I would like to thank Luis Martín Valdiviezo Arista, Martha Arista and J. Lee O’Donnell for their valuable insights and contributions during the different writing stages of this chapter. Wilfredo, along with all the EIB teachers who participated in the larger ethnographic study on which this chapter is based, deserve always my deepest respect and admiration.

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Author Index Albó, X., 46, 79, 94–5, 184 Albó, X. & Anaya, A., 37–8, 177 Anaya, A., 46, 94–5, 171, 184 Arista, M., 207 Arnold, D. & Yapita, J., 98–100, 111, 119, 122 Baecker, R., 55, 59, 71 Becker, M., 82, 95, 102, 122 Benavides, M., 54–5, 59, 72 Cacuango, D., 25, 48 Calderón, G. vii, 94, 174, 184 Calla, P., 94 Canessa, A., 98, 99, 113, 170 Cevallos, R., 100, 105, 108, 110, 112–13, 122 Chiroque, S., 88, 95 Chuecas, A., 188, 193, 208 Conejo Arellano, A., 82–4, 95 Contreras, A., 176 Contreras, M., 173, 185 Cortina, R., 1, 8, 50, 51, 68–9, 71–2, 87–8, 94, 121 Cuji Llugna, L.F., 116–18, 122 De la Cadena, M., 197, 208 De la Torre, C., 100, 104, 110, 122–3 Del Popolo, F., 24, 42, 45–6 Dussel, E., 185–6 Dutcher, N., 35, 46 Fabricant, N., 94, 96 Garcés, F., 84, 94–5 García, M.E., 61, 86, 88, 98–99

Gil, M., 145 Giroux, H., 190, 205, 208 Guerrero, A., 103, 122 Gustafson, B., 7, 10, 44, 47, 74–6, 79, 88, 93, 95–6 Hale, C., 36, 47, 75, 94, 96 Hamel, R.E., 23, 29, 32–3, 47–8 Hanemann, U., 48, 168, 177–9, 184–5 Harnecker, M., 84, 96 Hornberger, N., 47–8, 64, 72, 149, 155, 157, 167–8, 208 Hornberger, N. & Swinehart, K.F., 64 Howard, R., 45, 47, 94, 96, 132, 146 Illicachi, J., 100, 105, 108, 110, 112, 122 Jáuregui, C., 185–6 Jiménez, L., 6, 14, 40, 46–7, 184–5 Limachi, V., 65 López, L.E., 6–7, 19, 21–2, 25, 29–31, 37–40, 42–8, 88, 94–6, 159–60, 167–8, 170, 175, 177, 184–5 López, L.E. & Sichra, I., 23, 27, 29–30 Luke, A., 29–31, 48 Machaca, G., 62, 72, 179, 194 Martin, P. W., 47–8 Martínez Novo, C., 10–12, 98–101, 103–5, 110, 121–3 Mato, D., 31, 48, 125, 127, 146 Menken, K. & Garcia, O., 189–190 Mignolo, W., 172, 185,188, 209 Montaluisa, L., 85, 96 Montoya, R., 88, 96

211

212  Author Index

Moraña, M., 96, 185–6 Moya, R., 29, 46, 48, 84 Noel, B., 38, 43, 48 Nucinkis, N., 43, 48, 177, 186 O’Donnell, L., 207 Orta, A., 94 Oyarce, A.M., 24, 42, 45–6

Rubio, F., 42–3, 48, 160–1, 168 Salazar, L. & Andrade, P., 57–8 Schmelkes, S., 13, 25, 32–5, 48, 124–5, 131, 145–7 Sichra, I., 19, 22, 47–9 Townsend, C., 26, 34, 49 Trapnell, L., 29, 49, 54,60, 73, 88, 93, 97

Patrinos, H. & Vélez, E 150, 158–9 Pérez, R., 101–2, 174, 186

Ulcuango, R., 84, 96 Uzendoski, M., 98–9, 111, 123

Quijano, A., 171–2, 186

Valdiviezo, L. A., 15, 187, 189–90, 198–9, 201, 203, 205, 209

Richards, J.B., 35, 48 Rodríguez, A., 95, 87, 185

Yánez Cossío, C., 82–3, 94, 97, 103–4, 123

Subject Index

Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo (AECID), 47–9, 68 Andes, 9–10, 12, 55, 72, 74–9, 81, 83, 85–7, 89–91, 93–5, 97, 119, 180–1, 183, 185 Aymaras, 22, 25, 39, 61–2, 79, 132, 170, 174, 178, 183 Bolivia, 6–7, 14, 31–2, 37–9, 41–3, 45–9, 51–2, 62–8, 70, 72, 77–80, 94–8, 169–70, 172–4, 183–6 ASEP (Avelino Siñani-Elizardo Pérez) Education Law, 14, 178, 180–2 CEPOs (Educational Council of Native Peoples), 14, 80, 170, 178–81, 185–6 Challenges of Decolonization, 169, 171, 173, 175, 177, 179, 181, 183, 185 PROEIB Andes (Programa de Formación en Educación Intercultural Bilingüe para los Países Andinos), 8, 31, 47–8, 51–2, 62, 64–6, 68, 90, 96, 149, 185–6 PROEIB-Andes Foundation, 62, 67–8 Bolivian State, 47, 174, 181 Citizenship, 1, 3, 15, 39, 44, 46, 71, 103, 122–3, 174, 183, 187–8, 191–3, 196, 205–6 Colonialism, 1, 14, 74, 81, 171–3, 183 Coloniality, 171–2, 183, 185–6, 209 of knowledge, 14, 172–4, 179 of power, 14, 171–4, 179, 183 Decolonization, 2–3, 9–10, 14–16, 40–4, 63, 75–8, 80–2, 87, 91, 115, 169–75, 177, 179–85

Discrimination, 12, 44, 46, 117, 119, 121, 131–2, 135–8, 142–3, 155–6, 162, 164, 166, 169, 173 Ecuador, 7, 9–11, 22, 24–5, 28–9, 45–9, 74–5, 77–9, 82–5, 88–90, 94–100, 103–8, 112–16, 118, 120–3 intercultural bilingual system, 10, 104–5, 107, 111 Education of Indigenous Citizens in Latin America, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 26, 28, 30 EIB (Educación Intercultural Bilingüe), 2–4, 6–10, 17–18, 27–34, 36–56, 60–71, 74–84, 86–93, 95–9, 104–8, 113, 148–51, 153–8, 160–6, 178–80 implementation of, 5–7, 9–10, 13, 16–17, 30, 36, 76, 88, 148, 150–1, 156–8, 163, 165, 179 programs, 15, 87, 149, 164, 189–90, 197–9, 201–2, 205 schools, 13, 54, 57–8, 67, 89, 191, 199, 205 Ford Foundation, Pathways to Higher Education, 146–7 Germany, 50–1, 57, 64, 67–9, 71–2, 96, 184 GIZ (Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit), 8, 13, 36, 50–3, 55–61, 64–5, 68–71, 149, 151–3, 160, 167 GTZ (Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit), 47–8, 71, 87, 185

213

214  Subject Index

Guatemala, 6–7, 9, 13–14, 19–20, 22, 24–5, 28–9, 31–2, 34–5, 37, 42–3, 46–8, 148–53, 157–61, 165–8 PADEP (Programa Académico de Desarrollo Profesional Docente), 13, 150–8, 163–7 Higher education, 10–12, 39, 41, 46, 66, 68, 116, 119–20, 124–7, 129–31, 133, 135, 138–40, 143, 146–7 intercultural universities, 11–12, 99, 116–18, 124–8, 132–4, 136–44 Identity, 11–12, 37, 41–2, 64, 95, 98, 131–2, 134, 139–40, 144, 148, 162, 166, 205–6, 208 ethnic, 140, 162 politics of, 22, 30–1, 41, 44, 96 Indigenous citizens, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 50–73, 84, 94–6, 122, 206–8 citizenship, 187, 189, 192–3, 196–7, 202, 205 cultures, 11, 16, 23–4, 26–7, 34, 44, 98, 127, 156, 164, 182, 199, 206 groups, 4, 8–9, 22, 34, 57, 71, 119, 132, 151, 156, 159, 165, 176, 178, 182 identity, 39, 65, 128, 139–40, 142–3 intellectuals, 30, 36, 41, 81, 90, 108 languages, 11–13, 17–19, 22, 24–30, 32–3, 35, 44–5, 80–2, 112–13, 127–8, 130, 132–6, 155–7, 163–6, 175 knowledge, 4–5, 12–14, 38, 41, 45, 98–9, 106–7, 109, 113, 116–19, 121, 187, 200–2, 204, 206 leaders, 17, 24, 27, 38–40, 43–5, 64–5, 83–4, 119, 169, 171, 173–7, 179, 181, 183, 185 Indigenous education, 43, 47, 51, 70, 74, 78, 80, 91, 93, 100, 103–4, 106, 174, 179, 183 Indigenous movements, 1–2, 6–7, 9, 62, 64, 76, 79, 81, 86, 98–100, 108, 111, 119, 123, 183

Indigenous organizations, 30, 40, 52–3, 60–3, 65, 74–5, 77–8, 80–1, 83–5, 87–8, 90, 92–4, 105–7, 120–1, 178 autonomy of, 107, 110 regional, 54 Indigenous people, 60, 62, 104, 109–10, 119–21, 125, 128–9, 150, 158, 171, 174, 182–3, 185, 187, 192 Indigenous populations, 19, 22, 25–6, 32, 34–5, 100, 105, 109, 119, 121, 126, 130–1, 159, 166, 170 Indigenous professionals, 31, 65, 107, 117, 144 Indigenous rights, 2, 19, 33, 72, 74–5, 78, 80–1, 91, 104, 123, 197, 208 Indigenous schools 5, 74, 82, 105, 130–1, 199 students, 4–5, 11–13, 16, 18, 23–5, 31, 33, 39, 52, 54, 65, 67, 103–4, 124–45, 200–2 teachers, 5, 32, 104, 110, 112, 120, 152, 170, 182–3 Indigenous territories, 23, 61, 77, 93 Indigenous women, 12–13, 23, 104, 142 Inequality, 1, 8, 15, 24, 42, 75–6, 80, 82, 93–4, 129, 188, 190, 198, 205, 207 Intellectual networks, 8, 17, 52, 57, 65, 70–1, 75, 86 Intercultural bilingual education, 1–3, 5–7, 9, 15–16, 24, 50, 52, 73–5, 77, 79, 81, 105–8, 148–9, 163–5, 178 Interculturalidad, 3, 28, 48, 57, 72, 75, 96, 108, 116, 122, 144–6, 167–8, 189, 191, 209 interculturalism, 28–9, 33–4, 37, 39–40, 42, 44, 49, 99, 107–9, 116, 121, 149, 154, 162, 165 interculturality, 3, 5, 15–16, 48, 55, 75–8, 80–1, 83, 85–8, 189, 192, 197–8, 202, 209 Intraculturalism, 39–40, 44, 75 Language policy, 149, 167, 198, 209

Subject Index   215

Mexico, 2, 4, 6–7, 12, 21–2, 24–6, 28–9, 31–3, 42–4, 47–8, 124–9, 132, 135, 138–40, 145–6 ANUIES (Asociación Nacional de Universidades e Institutos de Educación Superior), 124–6,128, 145 graduates of Higher Education Institutions, 124–5, 127, 129, 131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 141, 143, 145, 147 Instituto Nacional para la Evaluación de la Educación (INEE), 130, 146 Partnerships, 50–1, 53, 55, 57, 59, 61, 63, 65, 67, 69–71, 73 Peru, 15, 24–6, 28–9, 45–9, 51, 53–7, 60–2, 67, 72–4, 85–7, 89–91, 94–8, 190–2, 198, 205–9 PROEDUCA ( Programa de Educación Básica), 8, 51, 53–60, 71 Puno, 25, 47, 56, 86

Quechua, 22, 25, 29, 40, 56, 61–2, 64, 86, 100, 132, 199–200, 202–4 Race, 14, 75, 78, 89, 112, 116, 122, 171–2, 183–4, 194, 208 Racism, 12, 36, 44, 46, 80, 82, 87–8, 93–4, 109, 118, 122, 131–2, 169 Rights of Indigenous Peoples, 1–2, 16, 31, 68–9, 148 Shuar, 83, 100, 111–12 Social movements, 2, 7, 10, 14, 36–7, 50, 52, 57, 71–2, 87–9, 91, 119, 188, 209 UNESCO 28, 49, 148, 151, 167–8, 184–5 UNICEF 36, 46–50, 72, 79, 88, 95, 175 Warisata school, 174 Western knowledge, 4, 16, 99, 106, 109, 112, 115, 160, 172, 201