Ecological Legacies and Ethnotourism: Bridging Science and Community in Ecuador’s Amazonia

Abstract

This paper offers paradigmatic insights from an international workshop on Ecological Legacies: Bridge Between Science and Community, in Ecuador, in the summer of 2023. The conference brought together foreign and local scholars, tour operators, village community, and Indigenous leaders in the upper Amazonia region of Ecuador with the goal of developing a vision for a sustainable and regenerative future of the upper Amazon. The conference offered three epistemological contributions to the existing literature in the emergent field of Montology, including addressing issues of (a) understanding the existing linguistic hegemony in describing tropical environments, (b) the redress of mistaken notions on pristine jungle environments, and (c) the inclusion of traditional knowledge and transdisciplinary approaches to understand the junglescape from different perspectives and scientific traditions. Methodologically, the conference bridged the fields of palaeoecological and ethnobotanical knowledge (as part of a wider conversation between science and local communities). Results show that local knowledge should be incorporated into the study of the junglescape and its conservation, with decolonial approaches for tourism, sharing language, methodology, tradition, and dissemination of the forest’s attributes. Our research helped co-create and formulate the “Coca Declaration” calling for a philosophical turn in research, bridging science and ethnotourism in ways that are local, emancipatory, and transdisciplinary. We conclude that facilitating new vocabulary by decolonial heightening of Indigenous perspectives of the junglescape helps to incorporate the notion of different Amazons, including the mountainscape of the Andean–Amazonian flanks. We also conclude that we can no consider Ecuador the country of “pure nature” since we helped demystify pristine nature for foreign tourists and highlighted local views with ancestral practices. Finally, we conclude that ethnotourism is a viable alternative to manage heritagization of the junglescape as a hybrid territory with the ecological legacies of the past and present inhabitants of upper Amazonia.

1. Introduction

Tourism in Ecuadorian Amazonia has become a de facto economic activity along settlements associated with riparian environments, including oxbow lakes and meandering riverfronts. Tourism operations, often served by either national or international firms exploiting the scenic beauty and the rich biodiversity of the tropical forest, cater to tourists from the Global North who are mesmerized by the lush greenery of the apparently pristine nature. One of the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic was to foster a desire to find new outdoor experiences. The urge to travel, stymied for two years, has led to a surge of ecotourists wanting to explore and experience novel (to them) settings [1]. Such destinations include isolated areas of the tropical rain forest of upper Amazonia, typically translated for tourists by local guides. It is in this space of translation and re-engagement (after the pandemic) that this paper is located.

We are a team of ecologists and social scientists seeking to theorize and create appropriate frames of narrativizing ecological experience that move away from outdated tropes such as the virgin forest (c.f., natura naturata) and replace them with accessible, but scientifically accurate narratives. An important goal in this regard is to incorporate cultural and historical accounts into the content of tourism offerings (c.f., natura naturans). There is a clear research gap to distinguish the characteristics of mature forests that have never been altered by people with those that may bear legacy effects of past human activities, such as enrichment with species valued for their fruits or depletion of timber species. It is important to remember that territorial occupations by indigenous communities is often dynamic through space and time, and that the current occupiers were not necessarily directly descended from those who altered the forest. Thus, there is a role for scientists to help inform local people of the history and timelines of a site that reach beyond folk memory. In turn, tourists are often eager to understand these foreign and potentially complex histories [2]. Our hope is that tourists, once exposed to these ideas, will welcome the inclusion of an Indigenous human element as opposed to the previous tourist-centered discourse that only emphasized physical and biological factors [3] or those who exoticized the Indigenous [4]. An added benefit is that these newer narratives ring truer to domestic, as opposed to foreign, ecotourists. The purpose of this study is to explore the “ethnotourism turn” [5] through community efforts. The objectives include (1) to promote acquisition of a new vocabulary that introduces the idea of “working” production landscapes of the UNU’s “Satoyama Initiative” and the ‘jungle-garden’ or the ‘jungle-park’, (2) to compare traditional notions of “the pristine jungle” [6] or “pristine island” [7] that pervades the tourism offerings of Ecuador, touted as “country of pure nature” [8], and (3) to help tourists to appreciate that the current landscape configuration is a manifestation of a blend of natural and altered habitats that often coexist in a predictable mosaic [3,9,10]. The jungle is a grown fusion landscape, rather than the extant of a mature, untouched forest community, where humans have not made significant impact in the composition, structure, or function of the forest [3,11].

We argue for switching the nature emphasis of ecotourism or culture-emphasis of sociotourism towards a much-needed action of ‘co-creation’ with sustainable options for local tourism operators and domestic tourists [12]. We advocate the biocultural emphasis inherent to ethnotourism as the decolonial tool to bridge science and community stewardship, embraced by the “Kuk’a Umawa declaration” (see Appendix A below). In doing so, we build on earlier works dealing with place attachment and identity of tropandean mountains with the field notes [13] and with the “three ecologies” by Guattari [14]—of physical frameworks—nature, mental constructs—social, and spiritual dimensions—culture—of the junglescape. Here, we seek the application of montology [15] as the transdisciplinary approach of Western, Eastern and Global South science) for knowing of, and caring for, the tropandean mountainscape, and posit a call for revisiting the biocultural narrative that tourists receive when visiting upper Amazonia.

2. Materials and Methods

2.1. Methods of Bridging Science and Community Stewardship

As part of a multimethod research dealing with the ecological legacies of the Amazon, we conducted interpretative constructivism research on the riverine communities along the rivers of upper Amazonia in Ecuador to complement research performed on the paleoecology and biogeography of the Napo communities. We developed open-ended interviews, a survey questionnaire comprising, interviews with experts, site visits for walked registers, direct observations, and a focus workshop. The research included local and foreign scientists, college students from local universities (ESPOCH, UNA, IKIAM, USFQ, UTE), tourist operators along the Napo, Cuyabeno, Aguarico and Pastaza rivers, bilingual (English-Spanish) and local (Kichwa-Spanish) nature guides of riverfront destinations, a representative sample of women from Shwar, Waorani and Kichwa communities, and privilege witnesses from the central government and Amazonian GADEs, as well as local administrators. Overall, there were 45% female and 55% male participants, with most of them adults from 18 to 60 years old. Just a few elders were available for interviews.

To share the information generated by a research project on the ecological legacies of the Upper Amazon, we convened an international workshop on these topics in May 2023. Scientists, students, tourism operators, nature guides and community members of riverfront destinations attended the workshop (Figure 1). Keynote presentations and guest speeches were offered in the mornings, while workshop communal work took place in the afternoons, with survey questionnaires and open-ended questions leading to a Declaration that was drafted as the co-creation of the stakeholders and scientists (

Table 1. Structure of the survey questionnaires distributed in four main areas of concern with thirteen questions each to be classified in penta-Likert scales for importance and for ease. See Appendix B for visualization of the data and explanation of results.

#	Research Priorities and Community Development	Ancestral Wisdom	Memory of Discovery	Ethnotourism Management
1	Field coordination	Learning tools	Who discovered	Increase visitor numbers
2	Major players	Community access	Motives of discovery	Type of tourist experience
3	Community immersion	Access in elderly	Prior rubber booms	Class of tourist experience
4	Original language	Storytelling at home	Keeping chroniclers	Culture as experience
5	Publications in vernacular	Legends from father	Spanish version	Jungle as explanatory
6	Scientist whereabouts	Legends from mother	Ecuador is Amazonia	Difficult of translation
7	Knowledge of scientists	Schooling tradition	Richest exploitation	Assuming landscape fabric
8	Commoners’ whereabouts	Lost wisdom	Historical limits	Access to local knowledge
9	Knowledge of commoners	Using shamans	Catholic influence	Jungle lifescapes
10	Applying findings	Traditional medicine	Protestant influence	Culture management
11	Sharing knowledges	Keeping tradition	Lost cities tales	Harmonic study practice
12	Time length in relation	Applying wisdom	Jungle settlements	Children and youngsters
13	Transmission of wisdom	Loosing wisdom	Orellana’s example	Governmental support

).

We decided to tally 52 responses to four main areas of concern that correlate with acceptance of bridging science and community: (1) on the research proprieties and community development; (2) on the ancestral wisdom about the forest and its implications; (3) on the recovery of the memory of the Amazon “discovery”; and (4) on the perceived priorities for the management of the jungle’s ethnotourism. Appendix B shows the summaries of the survey results of 260 possible options. Each of the four sections of enquiry included thirteen open-ended questions related with their themes, with two interspersed control questions to calibrate the certainty of registered answers. Work with Indigenous communities is often exploratory and inductive. Hence, the study design being deductive and confirmatory helps to create the appropriate approach for the community survey. For tallying and expressing the importance given to several entries during the questionnaire, we used a Likert scale that incorporated five choices, namely: does not matter; a little important; somewhat important; important, and very important. Similarly for those questions related to the likelihood of implementing changes in the behavior towards science and community, the Likert scale was maintained with five choices, namely: (1) very difficult; (2) difficult; (3) somewhat difficult, (4) easy; and (5) very easy. See Appendix B (below) for a visualization of the data.

During the workshop, survey instruments and personal interviews took place to highlight the need to incorporate regeneration within the current discourse of sustainability. Indeed, most young researchers agreed with the imperative poised by [16] about restoring the tropical forests as a way forward. One important angle in the restoration effort that must be accomplished is the adoption of a unified Amazonian identity of the Indigenous people. It must be realized that these nations clashed in fierce competition—even lethal encounters in the recent past—but now share an ongoing political unification (i.e., CONAIE Confederation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador), active inter-Indigenous identity markers, and place-making of pan-Amazonian collective homogenization vis à vis the influence of globalization [17]. Recently, for the first time in history, five different Indigenous nations found in and around Cuyabeno Faunal Reserve (i.e., Siona, Secoya, Kofan, Kichwa, and Waorani) gathered in a single intercultural celebration at the Eno Pluricultural Center (Jaime Rodríguez, GADE Cuyabeno, personal communication).

2.2. Ecological Legacies of the Amazon and Ecotourism

Steep ecological and cultural gradients created by the uplift of the Andes created abundant, distinct, microclimates and isolation of plants, animal, and human populations that fostered biodiversity [18,19]. Overlying these patterns, the relatively constant climate of much of Amazonia contrasted with glacially induced migrations of species and together produced the biodiversity hotspot of the Andean flank and western Amazonian lowlands [20]. Recently, there has been considerable discussion as to the role that humans, both Pre- and Post-Columbian, have played in influencing species abundances and diversity in apparently natural forest settings; what used to be radical suggestions of heavy human presence in the Amazon are increasingly now being confirmed through archeological, soil, and aerial/LIDAR, and other scientific surveys [21,22,23,24,25,26] (Figure 2). Mountain geography consistently used landscape characterization of climatic envelopes and biotic distributions to define the “first nature” in which physical components, which considered tropical rain forests as pristine or untouched [27]. With the realization of human transformations due to resource management and exploitation by agriculture and mining, the “second nature” of the rain forests emphasized the past utilitarian use of timber, rubber, gold, and oil [28]. This realization is fundamental to modern historical geoecology. Recently, and mostly fueled by Indigenous revival and decolonial scholarship, the “third nature” of the jungle is gaining traction as evidence mounts for nature–culture hybridity [29,30].

At the same time, ecologists have recognized the hyperdominance of just 227 out of an estimated 16,000 tree species, which account for 50% of Amazonian stems [31]. A disproportionate number of these hyperdominant species have fruit edible to humans or are palm trees [10]. It is speculated that for at least some of these trees, they owe their abundance to past use and the creation of the ‘jungle-garden’ or ‘jungle-park’, particularly in riparian zones with riverine human occupations (‘cowode’ in Waorani or ‘ribereños’ in Spanish) from ancient ‘Omagua’ and recent ‘Kichwa’ river migrants [32,33]. Several ‘lost cities’ found throughout the Andean crescent are now considered ‘urban gardens’ of substantially dense and architecturally sophisticated ancient cities in the upper Amazon, such as in the Serranía de La Lindosa in Colombia, the São Gabriel da Cachoeira site in Brazil, the Montegrande site in Jaén, Perú, the Wapula site in the Upano valley, Ecuador, or the Umawa sites along the Napo River in Ecuador [26,34,35,36].

Figure 2. Infographic depicting the relationship of processes and factors that determine the socioecological production landscape as a complex, adaptive, and coupled system between nature and culture, highlighting the important contribution of resilience, vulnerability and adaptation to understand the jungle as redundant ecological legacies acted from ancestral interactions [37].

Figure 2. Infographic depicting the relationship of processes and factors that determine the socioecological production landscape as a complex, adaptive, and coupled system between nature and culture, highlighting the important contribution of resilience, vulnerability and adaptation to understand the jungle as redundant ecological legacies acted from ancestral interactions [37].

Palaeoecological findings of the lower Amazon provide evidence of a human-dominated landscape in the seasonally flooded Varzea forests with rich alluvial deposits. Yet, this evidence diminishes towards the inner sites of Terra Firme with red clay and sandy soils [38]. Amazonian black Earths or ‘Terra Preta do Indio’ are soils modified by human activity mostly between 2000 and 1000 years ago. Additions of organic waste, ash, fishmeal, and pot sherds, created small islands of soil rich in nutrients and organic content amid unfertile lateritic soils and sandy red clays of lower Amazonia [21]. Records from the upper Amazon are still being studied but show the same preponderance of human impacts along rivers with fertile alluvial terraces with soils showing continuity of occupation and trade in the lowlands and in the montane sites, stretching from Venezuela to Northern Argentina. In the case of Ecuador, for instance, the Quijos River basin has shown ancient agriculture and settlement in areas now covered with mature montane forests [39]. Orellana’s famous first expedition traversing Amazonia in 1542 chronicled a transition from a scarcely populated landscape and few resources to steal in what is today Ecuador and Peru, to the presence of extensive settlements and cities in what would now be Brazil, when Europeans arrived in this territory. With the discovery of a major settlement in the shadows of Sangay volcano in the Upper Amazon, Ref. [26] trusted Orellana’s chronicle and further emphasized notions of the “lost city” in the Upano valley, which had laid covered with jungle for centuries before the LIDAR technology allowed researchers to grasp the magnitude of the settlement and the extent of the human imprint in the upper Amazon; unfortunately, they mistakenly equated it as the ‘tropical Pompeii’ seemingly with same ash-laden fate of the Joya de Cerén in Zapotitlán, El Salvador, where Mt. Loma Caldera might have wiped out that Maya site. Conversely, geomorphic, sedimentology, and eruptive studies have demonstrated that no catastrophic accumulation of tephra or other volcanic deposition affected the Upano valley [40] in Ecuador.

Paleoecology, the study of past ecosystems, has provided some important insights into the human history of western Amazonia. Perhaps the most important of all, is that fire was almost unknown in Amazonia until the arrival of humans [41]. Consequently, we can detect the arrival of people in any setting. Although there are some records of people in Amazonia as early as 13,000 years ago, the first occupations of western Amazonia begin approximately 7000 years ago, with cultivation of maize being practiced soon after. What has become apparent is that while some settings have a long overall history of occupation, people moved in and out of landscapes, with few sites showing continuous long-term occupation [42,43]. Ancient people, same as today’s Indigenous and ‘colonos’, used rivers to travel and communicate (Figure 3). They fished, collected turtle eggs, and could hunt animals along the forest edge. So, rivers became the epicenter of occupation of resilient societies and riverine landscapes [44]. Riverbanks were far more likely to be inhabited, burned, and cultivated, than interior terra firme forests [45,46,47]. Even a single low-intensity fire can have long-term consequences changing which plants and animals can survive in both terra firme and varzea forests. Over hundreds, even thousands of years, human forays and settled occupations introduced edible plants, depleted timber plants, altered soils, and hence modified the plant composition and community structure. What is unclear is how long those effects would last after abandonment [48] before the cultural imprint is lost and the jungle-garden erasure is complete, if succession ecology is to drive tropical forest regeneration in centennial cycles. Here, paleoecology can help develop the narrative.

First records of occupation and abandonment are evident in the charcoal (caused by forest fires) with data recovered from the soils and sediments of ancient lakes [49]. Fossilized pollen can tell us what plants grew around the lake when it was first occupied and how those plant communities changed when the site was abandoned [38,43]. If the changes caused by human activity persist long after they have gone, it is known as an ecological legacy. A topic of very active debate is to what extent, and over what areas, are modern Amazonian forests a legacy of past land use [50,51]. Research is ongoing, but for now it is important for ecotourists to recognize the potential role of Indigenous people in shaping the forest, while not telling them that all forests are the product of past land use. Balancing the narrative is as important as updating it. Nevertheless, there are huge opportunities for improved educational value of ecotourism in these regions, greater cultural heritage preservation, and diversification of the overall interpretive portfolio available for tour guides, business models, governmentality, community-based conservation, and sustainability; something that can translate into greater ’length of stay’ related earning potential and profitability for Indigenous tourism companies.

2.3. Eco-Ethnotourism in Amazonia

Early forms of tourism in Amazonian contexts can be traced to trophy hunting expeditions organized for European and North American travelers. By the 1970s, these rustic jungle lodges developed to cater to this clientele opened up to broader nature-based tourists [52,53]. With many of these sites also housing biological research projects providing empirical support for the role of tourism for biodiversity conservation, it has been argued that the “standard model of ecotourism” was realized early in Amazonian contexts [54]. Ecotourism in the Amazonian context was heavily promoted as an alternative to other extractive livelihoods and earners of foreign exchange, like gold, timber, Brazil nuts, and latex [32,54,55,56,57,58]. Examples abound of tourism-related enterprises established in partnership with the Cofan [59,60], Shuar, Achuar, Kichwa [32,58,61,62], and Waorani peoples [60] in Ecuador, the Matsiguenka and Ese Eja peoples in Perú [57,61,63,64,65], and Quechua-Tacana in Bolivia [61], and other Indigenous community across the Amazon basin. As a result, the percentage of the Amazonian population working in tourism is growing in recent years [66].

While scholars have raised important concerns about the potential for exploitation when Indigenous peoples and other rural residents of the Amazon are integrated into international, neoliberal, and market-based tourism [32,62,67], much of the literature remains hopeful about tourism’s value, particularly in relation to other threats facing biological and cultural diversity in the Amazon [68]. Scholars have acknowledged ecotourism economic contributions to Indigenous community well-being [57,69,70,71], ways that tourism reinforces and revitalizes cultural identities [61], its direct support for conservation [12,60], and the alternative it provides to engagement in more environmentally extractive activities [58,60,70]. Fruitful efforts were made to share best practices and lessons learned between Indigenous tourism ventures [61].

Yet perhaps most pertinent to the present discussion is the inherent educational value of ecotourism in these settings. Scholars have highlighted opportunities for “learning both ways” between hosts and guests in Indigenous ecotourism settings in the Amazon [64,72,73]. In addition to the obvious potential of ecotourism to provide education about cultural heritage of ethnic Amazonian communities [64,74,75], the diversification of the overall interpretive portfolio available for tour guides and businesses can translate into greater “length of stay” and thus earning potential of Indigenous tourism ventures. While not always fully realized [66,67,76], a valuable educational interface nevertheless exists between hosts and guests that permits challenges to “the pristine myth” and prospects countering it with alternate narratives about the critical role of Indigenous practices in shaping Amazonian ecology.

Recent trends of adventure tourism, extreme sports tourism, and social tourism have incorporated eco-ethnotourism angles with popular destinations for culture-based experiential learning, such as the Ayawashka tours in the Colombian, Ecuadorian or Peruvian jungle communities [77,78,79]. Unfortunately, the emphasis placed on ‘vision quests’ experienced by the paying curious tourists is based on the multichromatic, psychedelic challenge of novel bodily hallucinogenic experiences [80], trivializing the long-lasting core tradition of ancestral shamanic practice of respect, ritual, and divination, separating the true essence of wisdom seeking from the most mundane chemical effects [5,79,81].

2.4. Upper Amazonia and Tourism of Cultural Mountainscapes

Despite current devastating influences of oil exploration and mining exploitation, pockets of Amazonian rain forest continue to preserve the most biodiverse terrestrial ecosystem of the planet in what is considered a cultural landscape [24]. With the integration of data from permanent botanical plots from over 1400 Amazonian sites, within protected areas or Indigenous territories, new insights contribute to our understanding of the huge plant and animal diversity within the tropical rain forest ecosystem. There is a continuum of slope overlap from the Andes in the headwaters to the flatland Amazonian plain, covered with a thick layer of greenery, so that a detailed tapestry of forest canopy cover appears to a casual observer as uniformly verdant [19,82]; but in reality there is no one monolithic Amazon, there are several Amazons [83], including the ones in the Andean flanks.

The Orellana expedition’s chronicle pointed out the existence of large cities, such as Aparia 1, Aparia 2, and Aparia-the-greater, along the lower Napo and Marañon rivers. Because other aspects of these accounts were laced with fantasy, the central themes of sophisticated settlement and large populations have long been doubted. New visualizations of known archaeological settings using LIDAR help to identify human-made structures such as mounds, pyramids, roads, and canals in what is described as impressive ‘urban gardens’ along a huge extent of the Upano valley [26]. While these structures, which lie on the Amazonian flanks of the Sangay volcano at ca. 800 m–1200 m elevation, do not speak directly to occupation of lowland Amazonia, they refute ideas that Indigenous peoples did not work collaboratively to achieve an organized outcome. The Upano city was abandoned about 550 AD, but subsequent occupations re-used that site.

Even in the heart of the Yasuni National Park, apparently ‘pristine forests’ have a history of disturbance. During the rubber boom exploitation, camps were established along the Curaray River in the first half of the 20th century. These camps where scenes of deforestation and emptying of the forest of huntable species. Yet, today, the forest has returned and there is scant evidence of those human impacts in seemingly pristine Waorani jungles [84]. Similar footprints of colonial use marked exploitation further north along the Cuyabeno and Aguarico rivers in the seemingly pristine Kofan, Siona and Secoya jungles [85].

3. Results

We tabulated responses (N = 260) showing answers with a total of 52 possible values from questions (Q₁–Q₁₄) for each of the 4 main areas of concern (A₁–A₄), namely: (1) research priorities and community development; (2) ancestral wisdom; (3) memory of discovery; and (4) ethnotourism management. While descriptive statistics are presented below, full visualization of tabulated data and interpretation of results are shown in extenso in Appendix B, Figure A1, Figure A2, Figure A3 and Figure A4.

In Area A₁ (research priorities and community development), the coordination of research activities shares χ = 29.3 ± 4.1 responses of either neutrality, importance, or very importance, but 10% shows that it matters little or no matter at all (Q₁). The largest contrast in agreement was found between Q₂ and Q₃, since while 54% of responses identified it as very important to know who is doing research in biodiversity, only 10% identified it as very important to know who is doing research in the community. Only a fraction (14%) showed indifference to Q₄, but a large majority (73%) emphasized agreement with Q₅. Respondents were more interested in Q₆ (73%) to know what researchers were doing on biodiversity than in Q₇ on community matters (70%). There is a median 50 percent agreement that Q₈, Q₉, and Q₁₀ are very important to know the whereabouts of scientists and community members in the jungle. Almost everyone (93%) agreed on the importance of using a community registry in Q₁₁, while maintaining similar response (91%) to Q₁₂. Finally, linkages between community and scientists for knowledge sharing were also high, with 84% and 89% for Q₁₃ and Q₁₄.

In Area A₂ (ancestral wisdom), the consolidated figures show χ = 44.6 ± 3. Nine responses are neutral to considerations of access to ancestral wisdom. For Q₁, 44% showed easy or very easy learning from traditional knowledge holders, mainly elders of their communities. Q₂–Q₅ offers a glimpse of the easy access of traditional information from the elderly and family members (μ = 38.75), but clearly more from mothers (86%) than fathers (74%). Q₆ and Q₇ show that it is harder to learn this from colleges or universities (31%) than from their parents (44%). Because of the jungle environment (Q₈), most respondents found it difficult to access shamanic or traditional medicine (76%), and Q₉ and Q₁₀ show that 55% and 27%, respectively, could find them in communities where ancestral knowledge is maintained. The translation from scientists to traditional knowledge holders is lacking, as reflected by 27% of responses to Q₁₁. However, most of the perceived risk of easily losing the ancestral wisdom is shown in Q₁₂ as 39% and in Q₁₃ as 53%.

In Area A₃ (memory of discovery), the average on recovering the imaginaries of the discovery (χ = 48.58 ± 9.2) reflects Q₁, where the need to know who really discovered the Amazon is very important (79%). Other similar responses were found in Q₆, Q₈, Q₁₁, and Q₁₂, namely: 60%, 63%, 47%, and 39%. Also of note, Q₁₃ is found to be significant, with 47% identifying it as very important. One-third of respondents to Q₇ found agreement on the motives of the discovery, while indicating less importance to Q₉ and Q₁₀ with 66% and 61% affirming the influence of religion. In addition, 67% of respondents considered important to Q₁₂.

Finally, in Area A₄ (ethnotourism management), there is a division of ease associated with the practice of ethnotourism and its management, since five questions (µ = 45) were identified as very easy or easy (Q₁, Q₅, Q₆, Q₉, Q₁₁), and five questions (µ = 32.8) were identified as hard or very hard (Q₄, Q₇, Q₁₀, Q₁₂, Q₁₃) with 40%, 31% and 12%, respectively. However, they showed a preponderance of neutral responses (µ = 39.67) ranging from 33% to 48% in the consolidated responses.

4. Discussion

Existing assessments of biodiversity have been displayed to foreign audiences to inform the biotic potential of one small oxbow lake (i.e., Limoncocha) in only one hectare of forest, by the Napo river, more bird species than in the whole of continental US [86]. These data and the use of iconic flagship species to highlight conservation priorities of the ‘pristine forest’ became staples for conservation campaigns and research efforts [87] with inventories and massive museum and herbarium collections (à-la Erwin, fogging insecticide to an entire column of emergent trees to capture fallen insects). New remote sensing and genomic techniques have helped with less intrusive field collecting methodologies, and those have changed our traditional taxonomic classification as well as notions of functional ecology and their ecological legacies to justify current biodiversity content and spatial distribution models [88]. The biological-science-driven momentum of Amazonian research has provided much of the data about upper Amazonia. Conversely, social-science-driven research has lacked behind in grasping with these socioecological systems. Hence, tourism policy as well as practice has favored the idea of nature-based tourism, with the many facets available what in sum is referred to as “sustainable tourism” for complying with some, if not all, of the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) proposed for global transitions to sustainability. The priorities of conserving nature were easily distinguished within ecotourism [56,64] with an emphasis of incorporating the Indigenous groups as a focal point for a redefined “tropicality” of Amazonian nations [58,59,74,89]. However, funding tourism operations has taken a key role in generating GDP indicators for many tropical countries, including Costa Rica, Peru, and Ecuador, especially after COVID-19 [90], where existing assessments of biodiversity have consistently ignored biocultural heritage and socioecological co-creation.

Our survey responses were useful in clarifying and situating the nexus between science and community, highlighting opposition to Gourou’s eurocentric ruling of “tropicality”. There was agreement that foreign scientists should work with members of the community, speaking their language, and training their youngsters in the research areas investigated, to bring about a newer, better understanding of tropical landscapes. As one member poised:

“Hay que entrar a las comunidades con la actitud de pares, reconociendo el conocimiento ancestral y el conocimiento científico. Hay que depositar la información y no sólo extraerla” [We must enter the communities with the attitude of peers, recognizing ancestral knowledge and scientific knowledge. Information must be deposited and not just extracted]

Not only does this help to reinvigorate indigeneity at large, but it also affirms the positive influence of ancestral practices in the maintenance of forests for millennia, claiming to recuperate the local traditional ecological knowledge [91]. All agreed that recuperating vernacular literacy is imperative and that current efforts of research in the tropical rain forest should integrate the dialogue of different ways of knowledge (c.f., diálogo de saberes) to reclaim and sustain Amazonian identity. Another comment for debate was on

“Las atrocidades de los conquistadores deben concientizarse, ¡pero hay que mirar hacia adelante! Nosotros somos una descendencia originaria y la mayoría; se debe respetar la cultura, nuestra música, nuestra gastronomía y ponderarla para que a nivel internacional llegue el mensaje de nuestras bellezas” [Conquerors’ atrocities must be acknowledged, but we must look forward! We are original descendants and the majority; We must respect the culture, our music, our gastronomy and praise it so that the message of our beauties reaches the international level].

In the same token, bridging the past with the present, the respondents claimed the need to emphasize respect for Amazonian identity, including the symbols, legends and oral histories given as ontological and epistemological generational equity:

“Habrá que confabular la innovación con lo de antaño. Para ponderar al mundo la belleza de la Amazonía. El secreto es el respeto de las etnias y los conocimientos ancestrales. Hay que reclamar y sostener la identidad amazónica” [Innovation will have to be combined with the old. To show the world the beauty of the Amazon. The secret is respect for ethnic groups and ancestral knowledge. We must reclaim and sustain the Amazonian identity].

There was also an important case to empower community members themselves and have public policy to subsidize and promote environmentally friendly investment, avoiding mitigation of the destruction of the forest by oil and mining companies, with tourism as a white elephant.

“Debería ser que la objetivación de los miembros de la comunidad termine. Somos sujetos, no objetos. Se tiene que cuidar del concepto de etnoturismo, que debería tener una ordenanza de política pública desde el gobierno, y las unidades de desarrollo deben beneficiarse de la. inversión turística. No hay que hacer elefantes blancos para compensar el daño ambiental de las petroleras y mineras en la selva” [It should be that the objectification of community members ends. We are subjects, not objects. The concept of ethnotourism must be taken care of, which should have a public policy ordinance from the government, and the development units must benefit from it. tourism investment. There is no need to create white elephants to compensate for the environmental damage of oil and mining companies in the jungle].

Throughout the workshop and the survey instrument, the ideas now proposed by the regenerative tourism were amply supported; however, ethnotourism was highlighted as the likely bridge between science and community, with the insistent emphasis on three main discussion components: (1) to give priorities to training and capacity building to operate Indigenous-conceived and Indigenous-led tourism operations; (2) to aim for a pan-Amazonian identity that will bring into uniform practice of respect and valuation of ecological legacies to help maintain the forest cover against the pressures of development; and (3) to care for the forest by caring for the people who have traditionally lived in the territories now menaced by extractivism.

Whether the pristine myth is debunked di novo in the Upper Amazon, the transdisciplinary basis of the montological turn to understand mountainscapes allows for the inclusion of the new “third nature” that has been co-created by tropical climate and biogeography and by the habitat generated by the co-inhabitation of people with their habits and ritualized practices of ancient adaptations [92].

The nexus of these “3 Hs” [93] explains the intricate relations that have “manufactured” the junglescape of the present ‘hybrid’ forests (Figure 1). Linkages between forest composition, climate stability, and Indigenous land use are relevant to a broad portion of the scientific community. Similarly, working to save biodiversity in western Amazonia has both global and local significance. At the global level, Amazonia is a climate engine and the center of global biodiversity. At the local level, Indigenous, community-owned, ecotourist operations manage large areas for wildlife, but this protection is threatened economically by post-COVID-19 impacts.

International and national tourists alike visit the upper Amazon motivated by a desire to explore its impressive regional biota, which is sorely in need of protection. Very few of those visitors, however, could reach isolated sites and learn about the jungle people and their communities. As tourism resumes after COVID-19, we hope to be able to strengthen their flow of customers by improving their ecotourism experience, providing new scientific findings and bilingual interpretative information linked to QR codes to be deployed in these conservation lands and at lodges, as well as a website (wayusada.com) to mass communicate the nature–culture linkages. In consultation with the Indigenous communities, we provide information on site ecology, site land-use histories, the histories of useful species in their forests, and narratives for the guides that reflect modern scientific understandings of ecological legacies. We have found that the community guides welcome this information. Through more engaging narratives, we hope to boost positive referrals and visitation rates in favor of ethnotourism in lieu of ecotourism, or adventure tourism, solely focused on tropical fauna and flora. Closer to the objectives of regenerative tourism [94], we propose a decolonial approach for the important tool of ethnotourism for the conservation and development of upper Amazonia.

5. Conclusions

The contribution of recent scholarship in the paleoecology of the upper Amazon, relying on the concept of nature–culture hybrids and the co-creation of the jungle’s socioecological system, allows for the transformation of tourism, the syncing of Indigenous revival movements, and the local community’s participation in their continual manufacturing of the intricate landscape fabric of the Andean Amazonian flanks [95]. To this end, our paper sought to achieve three objectives: (1) to promote acquisition of a new vocabulary that introduces the idea of working landscapes and the ‘jungle-garden’ or the ‘jungle-park’, (2) to compare traditional notions of “the pristine jungle” or “pristine island” that pervades the tourism offerings of Ecuador, touted as “country of pure nature”, and (3) to help tourists to appreciate that the current landscape configuration is a manifestation of a blend of natural and altered habitats that often coexist in a predictable mosaic.

Our first objective of developing new vocabulary found echoes with the decolonial trend of heightening Indigenous perspectives of the junglescape as well as to incorporate the different Amazons, including the mountainscape of the Andean–Amazonian flanks. For our second objective, we conclude also that we can no longer consider Ecuador the country of “pure nature” since we helped demystify pristine nature for foreign tourists and highlighted local views with ancestral practices. Finally, for our third objective, it was clear that the current landscape configuration blends natural and altered habitats coexisting in a predictable mosaic of the jungle’s socioecological system.

Our multimethod analysis assessed the likelihood of sustainable and regenerative tourism in the upper Amazon [96]. The resulting information collected both at the workshop and with the survey instrument, is described in Appendix A. Results from the survey helped to elucidate the difficulties faced by ethnotourism with the importance of knowledge sharing and coordination between scientists and local communities in the Upper Amazon. No matter the age, sex, or the educational level of the informants, there is a perceived need to find the truth about the discovery of the Amazon and the urgency of disseminating these findings by rewriting history with vernacular descriptors and use of local language, as well as to retell oral histories as a way of infusing transdisciplinary approaches for learning about the jungle as an ecological legacy instead of a mere concentration of flora and fauna.

First, we conclude that Research Priorities and Community Development options need to be revisited in future research interventions, by incorporating the ethnobiology’s Code of Ethics as well as considerations of IRB’s Human Subjects when dealing with socioecological research of the upper Amazon. Most responses highlight that a modern cross-cutting of Western and Indigenous approaches to the co-creation of the nature–culture hybrid forest ecosystem is warranted and longed for. Second, in relation to ancestral wisdom, the subsample of majority Kichwa and Waorani members interviewed at the workshop had clear and definitive pride of the ancestral lineage connecting them with ancient practices and continual occupation of the jungle territory, whether be the riparian/alluvial terraces or the terra firme forests. Other groups represented also indicated that pan-Amazonian identity will help them in cementing their communal land rights helping conservation of biocultural diversity. Third, appertaining to the memory of the discovery of the Amazon, we conclude that producing updated sources of information about the contribution of Indigenous people to the co-creation of the upper Amazon ecoregion. It has been indicated that an excess of emphasis has been given to the figures of Spaniard explorers and a dearth of information on the role of the native Amazonians in the co-creation of the junglescape. Last, the ethnotourism management priorities point to empowerment of local tourism operation and Indigenous planning and communal ownership, via cooperative structures or out-right business ventures, will facilitate increasing the about-face from nature-only to the nature–culture manufacture landscape touristic experience. A significant attempt to stimulate this trend is the appearance of both scientific and layman literature in reference to the “lost cities” of the Amazon, as well as social media and websites (e.g., www.wayusada.com) with information supporting decolonial scholarship.

The perception of local community members is that scientists have been disconnected from local realities where traditional knowledge is still prevalent, as the tenets of decolonial scholarship have not yet permeated to international funding schemes. There is consensus on working together with scientists, local governments, and communities to incorporate the socioecological dimensions of ethnotourism into future biocultural heritage conservation planning, with a shared outlook of pan-Amazonian ethnic futures.

6. Patents

No patents resulted from the work reported here.