Colorado and New Mexico are experiencing one of the driest winters on record, with snowpack at only half its normal level. While drought has long been a challenge for this region, this dry winter—and the dry spring that will inevitably follow—may mark the start of a new chapter of scarcity, requiring adaptation across Colorado and New Mexico. Urban areas will likely be insulated from the effects of this imminent drought, since these areas have the ability to pipe water to their residents from other parts of the state and country. Those living in rural areas, however, typically rely on spring runoff carried by local rivers to meet their water needs and must follow the doctrine of prior appropriation (“first in time, first in right”): the first person to divert water for a beneficial use has a superior right to that water, and later users are entitled to water only after the senior user’s needs have been met. For members of rural communities who are not “first in right,” today’s snowless mountains are a sign of challenges ahead.
In his timely article, Irrigation and Society in the Upper Río Grande Basin, U.S.A.: A Heritage of Mutualism, José A. Rivera explains that in the face of challenge, the culture and traditions of acequia communities may hold the key to adaptation and survival. He posits that the cohesion offered by the Spanish language,1 as well as the longstanding tradition of mutualismo—reciprocal mutual aid—among acequia communities, will allow them to adapt to the challenges ahead. Acequias are centuries-old gravity-fed irrigation ditches that are characterized by being maintained and managed entirely by their users in a unique form of local government. Acequia communities are spread throughout the arid and isolated areas of southern Colorado and New Mexico. While the rigid doctrine of prior appropriation shows no signs of changing anytime soon, Rivera’s article presents acequia communities’ compelling extra-legal approach to dealing with the challenge of drought: mutualismo.
Rivera begins by discussing the long history of acequia communities, which have speckled Colorado and New Mexico since the first caravans of Spanish-Mexican settlers arrived in the late 1500s. During this Spanish-colonial period, acequia water was managed by pobladores, communities of landowners, and parciantes, individual members. This local management structure remains today. Each community elects a cequier to administer the ordenazas, rules governing the ditches, and to resolve any conflicts or disputes arising from the repartimiento, allotment of water. In times of abundancia—abundance—every parciante is free to take the water they need from the acequias. In dry years, the parciantes decide for themselves who will receive water and who will not. Those who must go without are supported by ayuda mutua—mutual aid—in the form of food and financial resources from their community. As Rivera puts it, “this self-organized enterprise wed[s] the irrigators into a shared institution for water management that bond[s] them as a hydraulic society, a living culture of water based on cooperation and mutualism.” Each parciante helps to prepare the ditch and manage its use, and in turn each parciante has access to both water and a network of supportive vecinos, neighbors. This collaborative tradition is a hallmark of acequia communities, emblematic of the concept of mutualismo.
Although acequia communities may sound like idyllic enclaves, Rivera is careful to remind readers of the many challenges acequia communities have navigated. The arrival of the railroad in the 1800s signaled the start of the American territorial period, which brought with it new institutions that competed with acequias for water and land. Importantly, many of these institutions finagled their way into being deemed “first in time” for water allocations, pushing acequia communities down the priority list. Facing threats from land speculators, cattle companies, mining interests, and capitalist investors, acequia communities formed mutualista organizations to protect their land and water rights en benefício común, for their common benefit. Rivera highlights that in the San Luis Valley of Colorado, these mutualistas worked to combat wage and racial discrimination, and to support members in times of unemployment. They offered cash subsidy benefits to members unable to work due to illness, short-term loans in times of emergencies, and funeral benefits to widows and orphans.
Through his illustration of the mutualistas and his description of how acequia communities functioned historically and at present, Rivera adeptly blends the history of these communities with the wisdom they presently hold. Both past and present iterations are characterized by a collective effort to maximize the availability of community resources, regardless of whether that resource is water, land, money, or resilience. While the world around them continually changes, acequia communities have endured because they have prioritized mutualismo.
Rivera’s message is particularly poignant today. As Colorado and New Mexico grapple with the prospect of unprecedented drought, the question must be asked: how will rural water users who are not “first in right” make it through the tribulations ahead? Rivera provides one answer. Acequia communities have survived for centuries—through abundance and through drought—not because their acequias import water when there is none, and not because they are “first in right,” but because their vecinos provide support when it is needed. Through mutualismo, acequia communities have worked around the unyielding doctrine of prior appropriation and have managed to survive. This heritage, and Rivera’s article, provide one compelling example of how to navigate the unchanging law amid the ever-changing world we live in.
- In recognition of the importance of the Spanish terms both to Rivera’s article and to the resilience of acequia communities, I will also use these terms, providing English translations when necessary.
