Sun. Jun 8th, 2025
Colombia’s Wind Power: A Blessing or a Curse for Indigenous Communities?

In La Guajira, Colombia, the Wayuu indigenous community finds itself at the heart of the nation’s renewable energy transition. Towering wind turbines now dot the landscape, a stark contrast to the traditional goat herding, farming, and fishing that has defined their existence for centuries.

La Guajira’s powerful winds have made it a focal point for Colombia’s shift away from fossil fuels. However, this green ambition presents a complex challenge, forcing a reckoning between economic progress and the preservation of cultural heritage and deep-rooted traditions.

José Luis Iguarán, a Wayuu resident, describes the profound change: “You wake up, and the trees are gone, replaced by turbines.” The Guajira 1 wind farm, along with fifteen more under construction and dozens planned, profoundly alters the familiar landscape and soundscape.

The nightly turbine noise disrupts the Wayuu people’s dream-life, a crucial element of their spiritual world where ancestral communication occurs. This cultural disruption contrasts with the tangible benefits—improved infrastructure, housing, and clean water—brought by Isagen, the Colombian firm operating Guajira 1, a subsidiary of Canada’s Brookfield.

Isagen’s financial contributions include annual fees, revenue-sharing, and a portion of carbon credit sales, a system that Mr. Iguarán sees as potentially beneficial to this impoverished region. Yet, this perspective isn’t universally shared.

Aaron Laguna, a Wayuu fisherman, points to the divisive nature of these projects. He highlights instances of opaque negotiations, inadequate compensation, cultural disrespect, and allegations of corruption. “Bad negotiations lead to poorly managed resources,” he states.

Joanna Barney of Indepaz, a Colombian think tank, emphasizes the flawed assumption that “green” automatically equates to “good.” She highlights the absence of a robust legal framework to assess social and environmental impacts, deeming the latter “immeasurable.”

The challenges are evident in the withdrawal of major international players. EDP Renováveis and Enel both abandoned projects citing economic infeasibility, partially due to increased demands from affected communities and persistent protests. Guajira 1 itself faced disruptions from roadblocks, a common form of protest in La Guajira.

Indepaz has documented violence, including attacks against energy company employees and inter-community conflict over wind farm locations, a phenomenon Ms. Barney refers to as “wind wars.” Anthropologist Wieldler Guerra highlights a fundamental disconnect in perspectives.

“Two worlds are speaking without understanding each other,” he observes, pointing to the contrasting views of wind itself. For the Wayuu, winds are not a singular entity but eight distinct ancestral beings demanding respect, while energy companies view it solely as a resource.

While Colombia’s electricity matrix is relatively clean, its vulnerability to hydro-power fluctuations necessitates diversification. Wind currently provides just 0.1% of the national energy mix. AES Colombia, building the nation’s largest wind cluster in La Guajira, acknowledges the risks of community conflict, emphasizing open dialogue and fair compensation.

Federico Echavarría, general manager of AES Colombia, stresses the need for government intervention in conflict resolution. Mr. Laguna highlights the enduring paradox of a community potentially generating clean energy yet lacking access to it, reliant on generators while the wind farm’s output is destined elsewhere.

The pursuit of clean energy in La Guajira thus presents a complex ethical and logistical challenge, leaving many Wayuu apprehensive about the future despite the promise of environmental progress. The question remains: can economic development and cultural preservation coexist?