Socio-ecological changes in the Southern Andes: Transformations in Pewenche seasonality

Abstract

Climate change has a direct impact on the seasons. These changes can significantly impact communities living in close interdependence with their territories, such as Indigenous Peoples. Furthermore, these impacts are often entangled and reinforced by other ecological and social processes that affect how communities organise themselves. Drawing from ethnographic research complemented by the life story of a Pewenche woman, this article analyses the intertwined effects of climate change and state policy on the knowledge and seasonality of the Pewenche People in the Southern Andes, Chile. As a result of extensive exploitation of the territory, the implementation of development programmes and the current impacts of climate change, the Pewenche are facing numerous changes that directly affect the rhythms and frequencies that have historically shaped the seasons while impacting their activities, livelihoods and traditions. Their transhumance cycles have been affected, and their economies and calendars must adjust to the new rhythms imposed by state policy. The multiple seasonalities that come into play affect how the Pewenche identify themselves, construct meanings about social life, and position themselves vis-à-vis the state. A reflection on what it means to be Pewenche today has been opened. The bewilderment calls for action and policies that recognise the value of traditional ecological knowledge in fostering resilience and maintaining cultural identity, can respond to the changes and, at the same time, maintain the balance.

Introduction

What most characterises the walügtuwe season – beyond that it represents our responsibility towards our relatives – is that it strengthens and heals us. There, we fill ourselves with energy, and that energy is enjoyed first thing in the morning with our prayers.

Jessica Rupayan.

Many Indigenous Peoples worldwide have a deep relationship with the seasons (Chambers et al., 2021: 159). For the Pewenche People – a subgroup of the Mapuche People living south of the Andes in Chile – this relationship is established through the energies in the territory, which provide the spiritual force that resides in all living and inert things. These energies and forces, which in the Mapuche language are known as newen, organise the Pewenche seasonality and landscape, giving life to the practice of transhumance, ¹ a type of pastoralism in mountainous regions based on the vertical movements of livestock. Of vital importance to this seasonal cycle is the walügtuwe (summer season and place), the season that allows access to the highest altitudes in the mountains and, in addition to providing food for the animals, is the source of spiritual and physical energy.

The seasonal cycles are fundamental to Indigenous knowledge systems and their transmission, offering important insights into Indigenous environmental philosophies (Simpson, 2014). Indigenous seasonal knowledge, involving knowledge of the weather, cycles of plants and animals, and their links with Indigenous culture and land uses, has allowed Indigenous Peoples to develop complex knowledge systems and intricate calendars and ceremonies that guide many of their tasks, including hunting, fishing and gathering activities (Berkes, 1999; Toledo, 2003; Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2008). These practices contribute directly to sustainable relationships with the natural world, enabling Indigenous societies to build resilience and adapt to climatic changes for centuries (Chambers et al., 2021; Green et al., 2010; Nelson and Shilling, 2018).

However, Indigenous knowledge can also be susceptible to co-occurring changes in seasonality because of its relational character (Chisholm Hatfield et al., 2018). Currently, the speed of climatic changes has a significant impact on practices closely tied to seasonal and predictable cycles (Fernández-Llamazares et al., 2015), such as the Pewenche transhumance system. Furthermore, shifts in seasonal weather patterns also have an impact on the mental health and well-being of Indigenous Peoples (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2015) and alter the narratives and stories passed down through generations (Herman-Mercer et al., 2016). For the Pewenche, climate change is eroding their cultural practices and restricting their spiritual connection to the territory, weakening the transmission of knowledge (Carmona and Rupayan, 2024).

In addition to the impacts of climate change, Indigenous seasonal knowledge also faces historical pressures that hinder their transmission and enactment (Lazrus, 2015). Among these pressures are the ongoing legacy of colonialism and the imposition of a Eurocentric system of thought that establishes hierarchies between humans and non-humans and places as inferior all knowledge systems that are not useful for the expansion of capitalism (Lander, 2000; Quijano, 2000), including the temporalities in which such knowledges are produced (Nanni, 2011; Valkenburg, 2022). Because of this, the effects of climate change on Indigenous Peoples’ seasonality cannot be discussed without considering their entanglement with colonial practices and policies that impose a hegemonic relation with nature and time (Valkenburg, 2022; Whyte, 2017).

For the Pewenche specifically, it is crucial to consider how their seasonal relationship with mountain range areas interacts with climate change effects and state policies, shaping new dynamics between the Pewenche, their territory, and the seasons. This discussion is critical for the development of adaptation local responses and national policies. This article aims to answer the question of how Pewenche seasonality is affected by socio-ecological processes. Our goal is to understand and analyse the intertwined effects of climate change and state policy through the case of Lonquimay, a commune in the Southern Andes, Chile.

The information presented in this article comes from ethnographic research conducted between 2017 and 2022 in Lonquimay and the personal experiences of one of the authors, who is Pewenche (JR). The research involved semi-structured interviews with Pewenche people (n = 20) and state officials (n = 7). The interviews inquired about the traditional relationship of the Pewenche with the seasons and the main effects that state policy of rural development has had on the territory and social relations. Participants were also asked about the main effects of climate change in Lonquimay. Simultaneously, we conducted participant observation of the implementation of state policy in the homes of Pewenche families to assess its implications on adaptation capacity. Participants provided informed consent before taking part in the study, which was approved by Academia de Humanismo Cristiano University's ethics committee (Chile).

Interviews were documented, transcribed, and categorised. The acquired data underwent content analysis (both inductive and deductive) using the Atlas.ti 8.0 software, carried out in a three-part process: coding; classification according to temporalities, statal policies and local knowledge dimensions; and assessment and analysis of emerging categories. Finally, the content analysis was consolidated and cross-referenced with the field notes.

The fieldwork data were complemented by conversations between the authors and the life story of one of them (JR) – the quotes in this article are hers, and her opinions were included in and strengthened the analysis. By writing with a Pewenche person from Lonquimay, we intend to give space to the knowledge forged from a close relationship with the territory and its temporalities. Including this knowledge is a central element for epistemic justice and the decolonisation of climate policy (Valkenburg, 2022). Both processes acknowledge the value of Indigenous knowledge and recognise Indigenous Peoples as subjects capable of sharing such knowledge and contributing to solutions.

The structure of the article is as follows. After this section, we briefly introduce the commune of Lonquimay, including its main geographical and social characteristics. Then, we focus on the transhumance cycles of the Pewenche. This cycle comprises two levels that shape the Pewenche's seasonality and guide their relationship with their territory and culture. Fourthly, we delve into the social processes that have resulted from the internal colonisation that has taken place in Lonquimay. State action – through policies aimed at economic growth – has significantly impacted the ecology of the territory and how the Pewenche relate to nature and the seasons. We then focus on analysing the effects of climate change in Lonquimay and its repercussions on Pewenche seasonality. Sixth, we describe the main impacts of all these changes on the Pewenche calendar and discuss their implications on Pewenche's knowledge and seasonality and, therefore, their adaptative capacity. We also introduce recent policies tailored to address these challenges. Finally, we reflect on how climate change and state policies disrupt Pewenche seasonal practices and knowledge, highlighting the urgent need to consider Indigenous wisdom in climate adaptation strategies. This process requires decolonising policies, respecting Indigenous self-determination, and recognising the value of Indigenous seasonal knowledge in fostering resilience and maintaining cultural identity.

Lonquimay

Lonquimay is situated within a high intra-Andean valley in Southern Chile, with an average elevation of 925 m above sea level. The territory experiences a cold steppe climate characterised by frigid and wet winters, where snow accumulation can reach up to 3 m, and temperatures may plummet to −20°C. Conversely, summers are warm, with temperatures reaching as high as 25°C. The area receives an average annual precipitation of 1990 mm, fluctuating between 2000 and 3000 mm during winter.

Projections suggest that Lonquimay is highly vulnerable to climate change ((CR)2 and MMA, 2020). The 0°C isotherm is expected to rise by approximately 300 to 500 m (MMA, 2013). This shift will amplify runoff within the basins and increase winter river flooding, reducing mountain water storage and diminishing summer flow rates. Drought is already felt in the territory (Cayul and Quilaqueo, 2019).

Environmental vulnerability is correlated with social vulnerability (Marchant, 2011). Lonquimay is the largest and second-poorest commune in Chile's poorest region, La Araucanía. Its per capita autonomous family income scarcely exceeds 104 USD per month (MIDESO, 2017). The commune is inhabited by a population of 10,251 residents, with 63.1% residing in rural areas (Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas, 2017). Notably, 56% of the population identifies as Indigenous, primarily belonging to the Pewenche People. The Pewenche are distributed across 50 legally recognised rural communities, with populations ranging from 50 to 700 families.

The Pewenche historically traversed between the two sides of the Southern Andes. Towards the close of the nineteenth century, amidst the internal colonisation processes undertaken by the Chilean and Argentinian states, the Pewenche welcomed Mapuche families escaping the valleys on both flanks of the Andes. Together, these families found refuge in valleys with extreme geographic and climatic conditions and took shelter under the eaves of the age-old pewen tree (Araucaria araucana). This species served as a source of shelter and sustenance for the Pewenche, particularly during the harsh winter months (Ibarra et al., 2024). The pinenut of the pewen, known as piñon, possesses significant nutritional value, while its resin holds medicinal properties. Consequently, the pewen is revered as a sacred tree, a mother to many, or a cherished sibling inhabited by ancestral spirits. Pewenche translates to ‘People of the pewen’ in the Mapuche language.

Pewenche transhumance cycle: Pukemtuwe and walügtuwe

Seasonal rhythms give Indigenous Peoples a sense of belonging and stability (Chambers et al., 2021). In common with other Indigenous Peoples (Green et al., 2010; Orlove et al., 2023), the Pewenche People have developed a sophisticated appreciation of their local ecosystems and the weather patterns, rhythms and changes. For the Pewenche, all environmental elements are alive and connected to the supernatural and the human. This living web of relationships shape the landscape and with it, the role of humans in the territory (Ingold, 1993). As Jessica Rupayan explains, ‘many Indigenous Peoples still have that same worldview, where all things are interrelated… it is the whole fabric of life.’ The perception of such interdependence promotes relationships of respect and reciprocity (Melin et al., 2019) and allows a collective creation of a temporal understanding that brings together various human and non-human realities (Yip, 2022), including the past and future generations. This worldview has shaped an intricate ecological knowledge that has allowed the Pewenche to face and adapt to extreme conditions (Marchant, 2019; Martínez, 2015). The transmission of this knowledge across generations has been facilitated by the dynamism of Pewenche life, characterised by a multifaceted engagement that intricately shapes seasonal rhythms and landscapes.

The Pewenche economy and culture are anchored in a two-tiered transhumance cycle, marked by pukemtuwe (winter season and place) and walügtuwe (summer season and place). The descriptions and analyses of the pukemtuwe and walügtuwe presented here are based on interviewees’ stories on how this cycle used to be and the authors’ interpretations. As these accounts are primarily memories and longings, ‘then’ and ‘now’ intermingle in an apparent timelessness.

The Mapuche have a spatial and kinesic conception of time, in which time, space and movement are interconnected and reciprocally condition one another (Grebe, 1987: 71). This conception of time configures the landscape as a continuous process of interaction and mutual transformation between the communities and their environment (Ingold, 1993). Accordingly, while pukemtuwe and walügtuwe exhibit distinct characteristics, their boundaries remain flexible, contingent upon the territory, the weather, and individual community needs. For instance, each community and family ascends to the walügtuwe – and enters the walügtuwe the season – at specific times, influenced by altitude-related factors, which also determine how long they can stay there – typically between 4 to 6 months.

The shift between pukemtuwe and walügtuwe is a source of food and identity (Huiliñir, 2010; Marchant, 2019). This cycle is part of a complex ancestral biocultural system that intricately weaves the Pewenche economy into the rhythms and temporalities of the natural world. Accordingly, it manifests as a temporal framework, a social practice and a mechanism for spatial production with territorial, economic, cultural and environmental significance (Martínez, 2015). It also serves as a conduit for sustaining the Pewenche's historical connection to the territories and ancestors that have long underpinned their cultural identity. From an environmental perspective, the coordinated use of the territory, considering its natural cycles, reflects deep-rooted traditional ecological knowledge, which allows for sustainable and communal management of seasonal resources (Marchant, 2019). From the interviewees’ perspective, beyond being merely a productive season, the walügtuwe embodies a space and period of profound connection that nurtures the spirit, offering respite to the body and mind within the cadence of life.

In bygone times, entire families embarked on journeys to the walügtuwe; that is to say, they moved from their communities in the valleys to the high grasslands in the mountain range. These routes could be long and difficult, crossing steep terrain and rivers, and the transfers could even last a few days. The traditional way of making these journeys was on horseback, and numerous belongings had to be transported for an extended stay there. Within the walügtuwe, families found shelter in small wooden structures known as rukos, located according to climatic criteria and next to animal pens. These rukos are still built with wood and branches from the collection of dead firewood in the vicinity, as a record of the passage of the ancestors but also ready for contemporary use.

The different tasks of the Pewenche shape the walügtuwe. The families spent the warmer months tending to livestock, gathering piñones and sharing traditional stories. These stories carried the essence of their ancestors, whose newen resonates through the land, facilitating the transmission of knowledge and social codes across generations. The elders shared crucial seasonal knowledge and biocultural wisdom (Toledo and Barrera-Bassols, 2008) with the youth, including the care of the pewen and the art of piñon harvesting – which varies depending on the years and months. Most significantly, they conveyed invaluable insights on how to be che, that is, how to be a person, encompassing the principles of reciprocity and communal living. As Jessica Rupayan describes, ‘We always went with our grandparents; they told us stories. Through the stories, they explained to us what this is for, what the other is for, and how we should take care of it’. This included the rhythm of the days and the temporalities of the territory.

As children drifted to sleep, the haunting calls of owls filled the air, and the first footsteps of animals heralded the dawn. Jessica Rupayan recalls:

My grandmother used to say, ‘Listen, here comes the [cow called] Kurichi’. Through that sound, one learned to discern silence from noise, identifying individuals by their footsteps. The sound conveyed information about an animal's movements – whether it ascended or descended, when it last traversed the area, or the potential presence of a puma [Puma concolor].

The rising sun was consistently greeted with a prayer that marked the beginning of each day. The sun is revered as the great creator, the protector, the ruler of weather and time. He is the great benefactor of living beings, the one who with a breath of warmth saved humankind from drowning in a mythical deluge. As a key part of the landscape, sunlight is also associated with ancestor spirits. Therefore, the first ray of sunlight evokes fertility, germination and beneficent divinities; it is the defeat of the darkness of the night associated with evil (Grebe, 1987). The doors of the rukos face east, and that is why the first thing Pewenche saw each morning was the sun, which gave a new day, leaving behind all other blessings, such as the trees, the water, the piñones. After praying, families gathered to share mate tea and engage in unhurried conversations, free from the constraints of schedules and clocks, allowing dreams and ideas to flow freely, as Jessica reminisces with nostalgia:

I remember how one lived in the walügtuwe, the tranquillity and peace. There, we had no concept of time. You did not know what time it was. You could calculate that it was five in the afternoon by looking at where the sun and shadow were, but it was unnecessary to be precise.

Subsequently, the adults ventured out to tend to the animals, distinguishing their own from those of their neighbours, under the mutual trust of reciprocity.

Upon their return, families congregated to consume piñones, a practice deeply rooted in their cultural identity. Piñones are an important source of nutrition for the Pewenche People and are often incorporated into stews and soups or eaten roasted or cooked. They are also a considerable source of income for many families who sell them in local markets. Furthermore, they are more than a mere food source and economic support; they are also an integral part of their worldview and existence because of their deep spiritual significance in the Pewenche way of life. Piñones are a divine gift, symbolising the spiritual and material bond between humans and nature. This interpretation underlines how the Pewenche see the piñon not only as a cultural identity, but also as a tangible representation of their spiritual beliefs and commitment to care for the territory (Ibarra et al., 2024).

The collective harvesting of piñon fosters intergenerational cooperation and contributes to community cohesion and ecological knowledge transmission. Nevertheless, today, it also perpetuates certain gender inequalities. Women play a central role in collecting and processing them, and this task is often seen as an extension of their traditional domestic roles. This link between harvesting work and household responsibilities tends to limit women's opportunities to participate in other areas of community life and take leadership roles. Besides, men, when handling responsibilities such as logistics and transportation, take on roles that are socially valued as ‘harder’ and ‘more important’, reinforcing gender power dynamics. This division may perpetuate the idea that women's activities are less valuable or crucial (Treulen, 2008).

Through the months spent in the walügtuwe, the Pewenche rejuvenate the newen, which encompasses both the vital energy that sustains life and the spiritual force that animates and connects human beings, nature, and the gnen (spirits). Thanks to this, the Pewenche regain the vitality and vigour required for the cold months ahead.

The walügtuwe bestows upon us sustenance, spiritual enrichment, and a profound connection with both family and animals. It provides a sanctuary for rest and reflection. Upon arrival, one perceives a distinct energy imbued within the surroundings, emanating from the pewen, the quillay [Quillaja saponaria], the ñirre [Notofagus antartica], and myriad other trees. This energy is further augmented by the presence of birds, including the revered condor [Vultur gryphus]. All elements within this environment become infused with the essential vitality needed to sustain us throughout the year, nurturing our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.

During the pukemtuwe, the household is conditioned to withstand the cold and humidity and a considerable amount of time is spent indoors. Firewood collected during the summer and autumn was the primary fuel used in stoves and braziers to heat homes. Therefore, everyday life was characterised by the tradition of gathering around the fire, leveraging its light and heat surrounding intimate moments of deep conversation. Thanks to the Pewenche families saving piñones for pukemtuwe, this season was also characterised by the preparation of various traditional dishes such as mültrün (a dough made from cooked and ground piñon that is consumed directly or as a base for other dishes), katuto (a type of bread that can be made with a mixture of piñon and wheat), and muday (a fermented drink).

We Tripantü, the winter solstice celebration, now known as the ‘Mapuche New Year’, is celebrated during the pukemtuwe. This ceremonial festivity marks the beginning of a new cycle of life, the renewal of nature, and the community spirit. It is a time of purification and rebalancing of the newen. Preparations for We Tripantü are as important as the celebration, involving cleansing and purifying homes and sacred spaces. The ceremonies, which include ritual baths in rivers or streams, lighting bonfires, and making offerings, are expressions of respect and gratitude to nature, which provides the vital resources.

Some practices and traditions presented here endure, but others have experienced heterogeneous changes over time. At present, the Pewenche temporalities have become entwined with the productive and economic dynamics shaped by state policies, which promoted the exploitation of forests and livestock over the twentieth century.

The influence of state and development policies

The traditional seasonality and rhythms of the Pewenche have gradually succumbed to the impact of state colonisation. State interventions have turned refused to listen to local dynamics and priorities and imposed spatio-temporal fixes that facilitate the construction of a national identity (Espinoza Rivera et al., 2023) and allow for the cohesion and reproduction of capitalism (Hope, 2009).

The systematic dispossession of Indigenous lands by the Chilean state began with the internal colonisation process known as ‘Pacification of La Araucanía’, a military occupation of Mapuche territories during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. At first, the Mapuche and Pewenche tried to evade state repression and sought refuge in remote valleys. In the early twentieth century, the state eventually distributed land titles to the families (Bengoa, 1992). However, this process excluded many communities, altering their temporal relations and depriving them of access to the land on which they had traditionally depended.

Colonial powers based on the hierarchisation of the human and the non-human imposed their concept of time on Mapuche territory to serve settler-colonial economic interests (Nanni, 2011). Unlike other zones of the Mapuche territory, the unique Lonquimay soil characteristics – volcanic and susceptible to erosion – precluded the development of intensive agriculture. Consequently, since 1881, the territory has primarily served as a domain for extractive industries led by the state, including gold mining and timber logging, alongside livestock farming (Paillacheo, 2009). The exploitation of native forests was facilitated through slash-and-burn techniques, with its expansion expedited following the railway's inauguration in 1965. The clearing of land allowed the introduction of livestock and new crops, a condition that favoured national and European colonisation, promoted from the state political centre (Klubock, 2014).

The current livestock comprises cattle and goats and operates under an extensive fattening system. Pewenche communities also rear sheep and some pigs, primarily for subsistence purposes. However, the absence of comprehensive planning has led to overgrazing. This situation, compounded by population growth, has exacerbated soil degradation and deforestation. These challenges reinforce the water restrictions shaped by the National Water Code that privatised water resources, placing them under the control of entrepreneurs residing outside the territory. Those lacking water rights cannot access the rivers that flow near their dwellings.

Nonetheless, livestock and control of associated resources, such as land and water, are important power sources for the Pewenche People. It is a crucial income stream and plays a vital role in social relationships, used as gifts in ceremonies, marriages, and family agreements. Moreover, its derived products, such as meat, wool and milk, provide essential foods and functional products for daily life, strengthening the self-sufficiency of families and contributing significantly to the family and community economy through the sale of surpluses. Therefore, livestock is a status symbol – families with large herds tend to have more influence and power. Power is more remarkable if combined with privileged access to pastures that allow them to maintain and expand their herds. For this reason, the use and management of grasslands can be a source of conflict, both within the community and with external actors.

In addition to livestock farming, Pewenche families derive their livelihoods from selling piñones and other non-timber forest products. They fondly refer to piñones as the ‘Pewenche gold’. However, this practice has declined due to constraints imposed by the state – such as Forest Law 20.283, which prevents intervention in the habitat of the protected species – compounded by the vulnerable conservation status of the pewen and changing climatic conditions.

Livestock and gathering are insufficient to prevent most communities from falling below the poverty line (MIDESO, 2017). The state's approach to alleviating this situation has centred around providing subsidies and vouchers, accounting for approximately 30% of family income, and implementing development policies. Given that the preponderance of the Indigenous populace resides in rural settings, the Indigenous Territorial Development Programme (PDTI), crafted by the National Institute for Agricultural Development (INDAP) – a decentralised entity with the mission to bolster the economic advancement of agricultural producers and peasants – assumes a pivotal role.

The PDTI is devised to stimulate productive growth in rural Indigenous communities. ² Through technical advice and training programmes, INDAP promotes the transformation of Indigenous farmers into innovative and efficient entrepreneurs (Landini, 2016). These initiatives reflect a temporal logic of profit maximisation (Hope, 2009) and have been associated with the reproduction of the neoliberal system (de la Maza and Bolomey, 2020). They include adopting advanced technologies and training in financial management, marketing, and business development. Also, farmers are encouraged to obtain certifications that allow them to access more demanding markets, increasing the added value of their products. However, this approach can lead to the loss of traditional agricultural practices that have been proven to be sustainable.

A primary constraint in implementing the PDTI is its hegemonic and non-participatory nature. Most activities are conceived in the country's capital (Santiago) and replicate the temporalities established by INDAP in non-Indigenous areas. Consequently, the PDTI's objectives often diverge significantly from the specific requirements of the communities and lack adaptability to their unique territories and times (Valdivieso, 2021). Its activities predominantly encourage technified livestock management and pasture cultivation, promoting uniform agricultural and livestock systems. Jessica Rupayan reflects on this contradiction:

The policy applies the same care to every being and it does not work that way. Every animal has its timing, every tree has its time, and to know it, you have to observe it. When all animals are treated equally, you stop observing and Pewenche knowledge weakens.

Social ties have also weakened as PDTI dynamics spur the pursuit of individual projects while diminishing collective responsibilities. By focusing on technified livestock management and creating new boards, the PDTI favours certain knowledges and actors over others, altering traditional temporalities and influencing power dynamics (Hope, 2009). Furthermore, INDAP's loan-based policy structure leaves many families struggling to repay, resulting in their exclusion from other programmes and consequently increasing local inequality. In summary, state interventions have led to new relationships with the mapu (land/territory) and new forms of social differentiation among the Pewenche, eroding traditional modes of spatial and temporal organisation and undermining customary political structures crucial for risk prevention and adaptation to environmental change (Lazrus, 2015).

PDTI technicians recognise that implementing this programme is challenging due to these shortcomings. Serving as the visible face of the state (Espinoza Rivera et al., 2023), these officials must initially overcome deep-rooted mistrust among Mapuche families and users towards state policies. Although trust may be established over time, the lack of clarity regarding their roles fosters multiple expectations that technicians struggle to manage. They perceive that people have become accustomed to expecting supplies as gifts. When these expectations remain unfulfilled, disillusionment gradually sets in. While many technicians scrutinise this context critically, they concede that they lack the intercultural competencies to coordinate diverse temporalities and navigate conflicts. For instance, PDTI officials often label those who do not conform to the programme's timeframes and activities as lazy.

Due to these challenges, the PDTI faces local disapproval and has undergone several revisions. An assessment by the state underscores that this programme ‘lacks a comprehensive problem diagnosis, does not delineate its potential beneficiary demographic, lacks measurability, and omits detailed component delineation or formulation of requisite linkages’ (Aninat and Hernando, 2019: 45). All these barriers undermine the implementation of critical livelihood activities and tasks, which are currently affected by climate change.

Changing times

In Lonquimay, the socio-ecological changes that have taken place in recent decades are causing a breakdown in the cycles that influence Pewenche's identity and shape their relationships with their territory and temporalities (Cayul and Quilaqueo, 2019). The violation of their rights during colonisation and much of the twentieth century (Bengoa, 1992), together with the underestimation of their knowledge by development-focused measures, have eroded the relationship with the landscape and the seasons and weakened local response capacity, building a context of climate vulnerability (Carmona, 2022; Marchant et al., 2020). Furthermore, the seasonal knowledge that has guided the Pewenche for centuries faces significant challenges in new climate realities, especially in catastrophic scenarios caused by extreme events. This knowledge loses certainty and effectiveness due to altering previously predictable climate patterns and the consequent transformations of the environmental and temporal conditions on which it is based. Such transformations threaten material practices and the rich web of cultural and spiritual meanings that accompany them. However, Indigenous knowledge also represents a valuable source of adaptation, offering proven strategies to confront climate variability (Schlingmann et al., 2021).

The Pewenche reported many local impacts related to climate change and their cascading effects. The most prevalent are temperature changes and the decrease in all water sources. Jessica Rupayan notes that ‘the stinging cold of yesterday is no longer felt on the face, and the snow has adopted a soft disposition, quick to transform into water’. Product of the close interconnection between the territory and the body, the Pewenche identify with the cold weather, so its decline has cultural repercussions. ‘Before we walked with the maullo [snowshoes], those shoes to avoid getting buried in the snow. In my family, everyone has one, but in the past years, we no longer used them because the snow was not packed’.

Years ago, snow began to fall around May, and now it begins in July. Decreasing snow impacts water storage while desiccating natural springs and wells. During the warm months, many springs – the primary water source for households – dry up, which did not happen before. River flows have also decreased; some estuaries even dry entirely for several months. Jessica describes: ‘The snow used to last much longer. Now, the same amount may fall, but it melts very quickly. You can notice how the water reserves above are diminishing’.

Nowadays, the overarching drought exacerbates the already precarious water scarcity scenario mentioned above, reshaping the Pewenche's relationship with their ancestral land. For example, in the zone called ‘Mallin del Treile’ – that means Swamp of the Treile (Vanellus chilensis) – there are no swamps or many treile birds anymore. Additionally, those interviewed indicated that it rains less in summer.

Persistent drought has diminished grasslands and thus pasture for livestock. In response, Pewenche families have transitioned from cultivating crops for human consumption, such as wheat and quinoa, to crops designated for animal fodder, including alfalfa and oats – thereby abandoning traditional practices like threshing with horses. These new crops are favoured by state policies that also promote pesticide use, which regrettably diminishes soil productivity, amplifying the effects of degradation and climate fluctuations. The evolving climate no longer permits the level of planning previously feasible, particularly given the surge in spring frosts that damage crops. Feed shortages further aggravate the situation, affecting livestock welfare already impacted by climate change. Environmental changes have led to increased mortality, premature calving and reduced animal milk production.

Furthermore, in recent years, extreme weather events have been reported that can be linked to climate change and that, accentuated by the rugged mountain geography, seriously affect the Pewenche and their livelihoods. In 2017, a landslide collapsed the cell phone antenna of the Pedregoso community, leaving them without communication for weeks. During the 2023 winter season, the region suffered heavy rains that resulted in rivers such as the Tralilhue, Cayunco, and El Naranjo overflowing, causing the isolation of communities and significant damage to infrastructure in Lonquimay. ³ These extreme hydrometeorological events, together with heavy snowfalls known as the ‘white earthquake’, reinforce the territory's climatic vulnerability.

The seasonality to which the Pewenche were accustomed is altered, and with it, all their production cycles and tasks. Most perceive winter as longer, drier, and colder than before. Accordingly, summer is taking more weeks to stabilise. Furthermore, the transitions between seasons have exhibited a trend towards homogenisation. In the past, the seasons were distinctly discernible. They featured the autumnal shedding of leaves and the springtime blossoming of trees. In September, budding could be observed, and by November, everything was resplendent in bloom. Nowadays, blossoming occurs as early as August. Historically, the first rains would grace the region in April, signifying the onset of autumn. However, contemporary times have disrupted this sequence; April still bears the summer mantle, with rains descending in May or even June.

I remember that in November, we were already bathing in a well we had, and now, in November, it is still cold. And I do not know what climate change is like, for example, it may be cloudy, but the sun is burning.

Climate change is also impacting the native flora and fauna. The lawen (medicinal herbs) have dwindled, impeding the lawentuchefe (healers) practices and elevating reliance on the – precarious – state healthcare system. Native trees have grown more fragile, with many succumbing to the weight of winter snow, exacerbating degradation and deforestation. Feeling the strain of the territory, the Pewenche regard this phenomenon as an ill omen. Among the species most severely impacted is the pewen, afflicted by an unidentified ailment. Its deterioration has spurred a national debate on its conservation status, potentially transitioning from vulnerable to endangered.

The transformations in the pewen have far-reaching consequences, impacting not only livelihoods but also the Pewenche's seasonal knowledge and identity systems. The Pewenche once observed seedings to predict weather patterns, but this practice has become untenable; the relationship between piñones and winter intensity no longer holds, as Jessica reflects: ‘You could tell whether the year was good or bad by the piñon, that is how grandparents used to explain it, but those things are no longer there’.

Distrustful, the youth has grown sceptical of traditional knowledge. Furthermore, piñones have grown elusive in the mountains, starting to drop in March, weeks later than their usual schedule, just when the children have to go back to school. This timing creates a dilemma for the Pewenche, who typically rely on piñones sales to buy school supplies for their children. The quantity and quality of piñones have also undergone alterations, manifesting changes in taste and texture. To prevent the loss, Pewenche must sell or process the piñones promptly. In many households, piñones on the plate have become a rarity. Jessica laments, ‘we used to roast piñones until November, but not anymore. They do not even last till June’. The participants harbour concerns about additional restrictions and question whether they can retain their Pewenche identity if they cease collecting and eating piñones.

As a result of these transformations, the indicators signalling the timing for ascending to the walügtuwe are delaying, ushering in weeks of uncertainty where the only recourse is purchasing additional fodder. It is not just timing slipping away; the physical locations have shifted as well. The walügtuwe have moved to higher altitudes, taking the newen and grasslands along with them. Consequently, families and their livestock now embark on journeys to more remote and inaccessible areas, such as ravines or even leased private lands. However, the newen they experience at the walügtuwe is not the same as it was with the abundance of vegetation and higher humidity. The transformation is palpable, rendering everything decidedly dissimilar. The Pewenche wonder when this drastic change took place.

Emergence of new calendars

Indigenous knowledge systems are dynamic (Green et al., 2010; Orlove et al., 2023). Nevertheless, the alterations to Pewenche knowledge and seasonality caused by the interrelated effects of state intervention and the impacts of climate change (Cayul and Quilaqueo, 2019) illustrate how rapid socio-ecological changes present many barriers to the adaptation and resilience of Indigenous Peoples (Fernández-Llamazares et al., 2015).

With the new production systems promoted by the PDTI, families must adapt their daily routines and tasks and, consequently, the production of the landscape and seasonal rhythms. Many of the traditional activities are now carried out with the support and coordination of policy, which has also encouraged the emergence of new initiatives based in the state's linear conception of time. Therefore, pukemtuwe and walügtuwe seasons and places are changing.

Spatio-temporal distances have also changed due to modernisation. Although walügtuwe pastures are receding, new paved roads have shortened the time distance to reach them. Thus, journeys that used to take days can now take a few hours. Consequently, for some Pewenche who have access to adequate means of transport, it is no longer essential to spend the night with their cattle, and they can leave them on the mountain, return to their homes in the pukemtuwe and go up to see them only once or twice a week. This change allows the Pewenche to spend the time previously devoted to walügtuwe work on other activities that supplement the family income. Guided by the PDTI calendar, numerous Pewenche reap alfalfa and oat crops, stockpiling them for the winter.

The PDTI also promotes cultural fairs during the walügtuwe season. These events have experienced heightened visibility due to policies encouraging tourism (de la Maza and Calfucura, 2021). The surge in tourism has kindled ambitions among numerous families to establish their enterprises, adapting the lands to the demands of travellers and thereby influencing community dynamics during the walügtuwe season. Although for many families, the income generated by tourism is significant, the expansion of individualised practices has strengthened competition between families, weakening the customary institutions and solidarity networks that are crucial for climate change adaptation (Lazrus, 2015).

The disconnection with the land, the gnen and the newen, coupled with the immense economic pressures that Pewenche face today, facilitate the abandonment of the fields. Many opt for seasonal migration to partake in temporary work, predominantly in fruit harvesting in the north. Increased migration impacts community cohesion (Lazrus, 2015), ages the population, and decreases the interest of youth in accessing traditional ecological knowledge. In urban contexts, Pewenche rhythms and rituals are replaced by duties. Phone notifications supplant birdsong, and the morning mate is shared with a screen. The Pewenche lament these transformations; many feel that the pewen calls them, but not everyone recognises its language anymore. The nostalgia that emerges in this scenario evidences the deep spiritual interconnection with nature and a feeling of loss in the face of its transformation. Nostalgia reflects a longing for the times, places and rituals that once set the pace of community life, a testament to the importance of continuity and coherence in traditional practices (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2015).

Throughout the colder months, daily life continues within the pukemtuwe. Beginning in April, the Pewenche shift their attention towards animal healthcare. As per state regulations, this period sees the administration of vaccinations, deworming, and vitamin supplements to livestock, along with preparations for the mating season. In August, the Pewenche begin preparations to welcome their cows’ offspring. Although these activities demand significant efforts due to shifting climatic conditions, youth have begun to question INDAP support – they believe these incentives are no longer sustainable. Aside from placing substantial stress on the soil (Salgado-Luarte et al., 2019), cattle sales barely cover production costs. With no slaughterhouse in Lonquimay, animals are sold at modest prices in regional markets. As a result, tensions have emerged between different generations of the Pewenche during policy planning.

Pewenche youth are also concerned about how the neoliberal logic of state policy has strengthened the individual character of the communities. Additionally, subsidies reinforce dependency on the state, weakening local capacities, while trainings aimed at strengthening these capacities prove ineffective. For instance, during the pukemtuwe, many families engage in training sessions to craft handmade goods for sale at summer fairs. While these spaces provide new forms of socialisation, traditional conversations around the fire are becoming less frequent. Moreover, new products often struggle to find success in regional markets.

To boost resilience, the Pewenche see strengthening rituals as necessary. We Tripantü is still celebrated in the communities, but many celebrations are now carried out in partnership with the state, which has integrated this festivity into its policy. INDAP, for example, finances the purchase of traditional clothing, while the local government offers a public celebration. However, many perceive such celebrations as reducing the practices to folklore because do not emerge from a resonance between humans and landscape, and Pewenche knowledge and protocols are not taken seriously.

Disconnection with traditional rhythms and practices also directly affects the diminished transmission of Pewenche values and knowledge. In turn, the loss of seasonal knowledge undermines Pewenche People's ability to understand environmental changes and, therefore, influences their decision-making capacities about how to adapt to climate change at the local level, increasing communities’ climatic vulnerability (Lazrus, 2015).

Climate change impacts require the coordination of multiple knowledge systems and actors with diverse worldviews, priorities, and temporalities, as well as increased national and international support (Fernández-Llamazares et al., 2015; Lazrus, 2015). The different social times that emerge in this process can be a source of conflict between various actors (Bastian, 2014). Although the PDTI aims to articulate the scientific-technical knowledge of the state with Indigenous knowledge, it has not yet generated coherent actions around adaptation and resilience to climate change. Specifically, the PDTI has implemented programmes to improve water use efficiency, including installing technical irrigation systems and rainwater collection and storage to address climate change effects (Marchant et al., 2021). However, planning for extreme events is based on scientific projections and often does not take Indigenous knowledge into account.

Due to its increasing climatic vulnerability, Lonquimay has been the recipient of the first climate change policies implemented in Indigenous territory with international funding, such as the National Strategy for Climate Change and Vegetation Resources funded by UN-REDD and the Green Climate Fund, the EcoAdapt programme funded by the Tropical Agricultural Research and Higher Education Center, and the project ‘Sustainable Mediterranean Communities’ funded by the Global Environment Facility (Carmona, 2023). The two first initiatives promoted the construction of fences around springs to restrict the passage of livestock and thus allow reforestation, while the third facilitated the re-organisation of the fields for the construction of home gardens. While reforestation of native forests is a fundamental requirement for the recovery of water sources and gardens enhance community cohesion, food sovereignty and biodiversity – thus strengthening the adaptive capacity of the Pewenche – these measures faced multiple resistances due to the restriction of areas previously used for grazing. Furthermore, these initiatives could not effectively engage Indigenous knowledge as, in principle, they aimed to meet the state's mitigation objectives (Carmona, 2023). Jessica regrets this shortcoming: ‘I believe that governments still do not value Indigenous knowledge, because it is not seen as a science. Therefore, they do not take the time to dialogue with us’.

Despite these challenges, evidence of Indigenous Peoples’ contributions to climate change adaptation through seasonal observations is growing (IPCC, 2022; Leonard et al., 2013). This knowledge contributes to more effective responses by predicting environmental changes and assisting in disaster management and enables the design and implementation of more just and equitable responses (IPCC, 2022; Orlove et al., 2023). Accordingly, Indigenous knowledge systems are increasingly recognised internationally, with their presence in international discussions expanding and calls for partnerships between Indigenous knowledge holders and scientists rising (Chisholm Hatfield et al., 2018; Orlove et al., 2023; Reyes-García et al., 2024). However, the effective participation of Indigenous Peoples remains a debt at the international (Carmona et al., 2024) and national (Carmona, 2024) levels. The contradictions of this recognition are reflected in Jessica's words, ‘Everywhere today, people talk about Indigenous Peoples being the stewards of the earth. However, they do not let the Indigenous Peoples into decision-making. So it seems very far away that we can make a real contribution’.

In Lonquimay, this incipient recognition is reflected in Chile's Nationally Important Heritage Systems (NIAHS) ⁴ initiative considering the walügtuwe and its vulnerability. This recognition has allowed state agencies and regional organisations to focus resources on conserving the Pewenche transhumance system. Consequently, the NIAHS has begun incorporating Indigenous seasonal knowledge to deploy initiatives acknowledging biocultural heritage and addressing environmental change threats. These actions aim to mitigate drought impacts and forage scarcity to support seasonal practices. Activities include management plans for animal transhumance, sustainable harvesting of non-timber forest products, and biodiverse family gardens. For example, seed orchards and pilot gardens transitioning to agroecology have been established. Local entrepreneurship has been promoted, and incentives have been created for associative enterprises that align with the NIAHS profile. While projects are at the family level, they seek to strengthen collective value systems, emphasising community work and trafkin (exchange) of goods and Pewenche kimün (knowledge).

These efforts have influenced national and local policies. Nationally, they promoted the Dynamic Conservation Action Plan 2025–2029, which aims to safeguard biocultural heritage sustained by Pewenche knowledge. It will do so through intersectoral articulation and diversification of the productive system along with the creation of jobs, enterprises and funds that promote the conservation of biocultural practices (MINAGRI, 2024). Locally, the NIAHS has encouraged the PDTI to consider seasonal changes and knowledge in planning extension programmes. It is hoped that this engagement will significantly include Pewenche knowledge, as Jessica stresses:

This has to be experience-based. If we want to transmit the care of water, you have to go to the territory, it cannot be from the writing. You have to live with the Pewenche and enact that knowledge. You cannot transmit how the wind feels, the seasons, because you must just feel them. The government should make these kind of actions, experiences.

All these policies promote a dialogue between customary practices and state policies that fosters the emergence of multiple social times (Bastian, 2014: 151) around the walügtuwe. In this scenario, the seasonal practices developed by the Pewenche are experiencing adjustments that allow for their continuity while giving them new meaning. Traditional and new seasonalities overlap, leading to reconfigurations of the landscape and making transhumance cycles compatible with the rhythms of modern life, the restrictions imposed by these policies, and the effects of climate change.

Conclusion

Environmental and social changes, particularly climate change, significantly impact the seasonal rhythms and temporalities of the Pewenche and their territory. This affects the transmission of traditional knowledge while promoting continuous processes of adaptation, transformation, and learning (Caviedes et al., 2023; Ibarra et al., 2023). The case of Lonquimay illustrates how power dynamics mediate the coordination of multiple temporalities, potentially reinforcing colonial legacies if top-down practices persist (Valkenburg, 2022).

Climate change creates systemic instability in Pewenche communities, affecting traditional knowledge systems, the economy, and cultural practices. Rising temperatures and deforestation have caused the walügtuwe to recede, disrupting seasonal structures and weakening knowledge transmission. Economic pressures exacerbate this loss, leading to greater acceptance of state-regulated development policies, which, in addition, also face the challenges imposed by climate change on health, the economy and education in Mapuche territory, areas addressed by the PDTI through its programmes (Treulen, 2008).

State policies for Indigenous Peoples are crucial in addressing climate vulnerability (Rogge and Dütschke, 2018). Effective environmental policymaking requires a thorough understanding of the intricate temporal and spatial relationships and interdependencies between social and biophysical systems (Wood, 2008). However, current policies omit these relationships, failing to create conditions for successful climate change adaptation (Carmona, 2023). In Lonquimay, the technical approach disregards the complex interactions between humans and non-humans that shape seasonality (Yip, 2022) and landscape (Ingold, 1993). The PDTI legitimises techno-scientific knowledge and imposes a new relationship with the seasons by defining the appropriate time and actors for each activity, promoting ideological and material changes. This imposition of external control over the temporal and spatial organisation of the Pewenche's lifeworld parallels the impacts of historical colonial projects (Nanni, 2011: 7). The homogenisation of livestock practices, training programmes unrelated to Pewenche culture, and the creation of new boards undermine the temporal rhythms of collective deliberation and political association in communities (Hope, 2009). Furthermore, Pewenche's lives render more predictable and disconnected from the rhythms of nature. Observation of nature, the foundation of Mapuche knowledge (Melin et al., 2019), is becoming less and less meaningful.

These shortcomings stem from the state's perception of Indigenous Peoples’ social vulnerability as a purely technical issue, reversible through the transfer of resources or skill development without cultural relevance (de la Maza and Bolomey, 2020). Nevertheless, the Pewenche use of these new temporalities and the emergence of new calendars reflect their resilience and adaptability to climatic and political challenges (Nanni, 2011). By leveraging their biocultural wisdom, they reinterpret and revalue nomadic practices in a changing landscape. This process encompasses the affective dimension of seasonal change, transcending mere economic survival to embrace cultural identity and connection to the land (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2015).

Continuing current policy implementation without considering seasonal rhythms may further erode traditional knowledge, increasing vulnerability and hindering climate change adaptation efforts (Lazrus, 2015). Furthermore, Indigenous Peoples’ involvement in climate governance remains marginal, with a lack of recognition in national policies (Carmona, 2024).

In addition to reinforcing the climate vulnerability of Indigenous communities, the state is missing the opportunity to understand climate change through seasonal local knowledge. To avoid repeating past mistakes, the state must cease implementing measures that violate Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determination. Policies in Indigenous territories should be modified to enable effective participation in decision-making, allowing communities to choose their own development projects and revitalise traditional practices. This approach necessitates shifting from vertical, centralised methods to equitable partnerships that incorporate Indigenous worldviews in adaptation planning and address community concerns.

To make this happen, there is an urgent need to decolonise policy by recognising and valuing Indigenous knowledge and temporalities marginalised by colonialism and global capitalism (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010). Indigenous knowledge systems, such as the Mapuche cosmology where humans and non-humans co-constitute each other (Melin et al., 2019), cannot be understood through a Western dualistic perspective that separates nature and culture (Ingold, 1993; de Castro 2013). In addition, this knowledge must be considered alongside the temporalities that shape it, as well as land rights and environmental and epistemic justice (Chisholm Hatfield et al., 2018; Valkenburg, 2022). These efforts can strengthen community resilience and bridge the gap between local, national and international levels.

In Lonquimay, policies should support activities that are aligned with Pewenche seasonal knowledge. NIAHS's recognition of the walügtuwe demonstrates an effort on the part of the state to consider Pewenche knowledge about seasons, landscape and temporality in policy and has the potential to strengthen effective engagement. However, being an incipient contribution, it is not yet possible to determine its ability to keep the multiplicity of temporalities open and its impacts on environmental governance, including the necessary reflection on the state's conception of nature.

Pewenche seasonality reminds us that nature has rhythms and that allowing ourselves to flow with this order allows us to perceive the close interrelationship between all life forms. The happiness that the Pewenche find with the walügtuwe is not due to the resources this season provides – although these are fundamental. The relevance of the walügtuwe lies in the fact that it inscribes Pewenche life within a larger system. This order is not perceived as superior, untouchable, or immutable but is in constant resonance with their daily rhythms. In these spaces and times, now elusive, the Pewenche remember who they are, a che in service of the fabric of life.