Tvind Alert
What is UFF hiding on its plantation in Brazil?
Profit seems to have replaced humanity as the aid organisation's driving force.
From Dagens Nyheter, Sweden, 10th June 2000
by Bengt Lindström
AFTER 400 miles in a small single-engine airplane, 200 miles in a scruffy taxi and eight hours in a night-black clay hole, we are standing by the checkpoint outside Fazenda Floresta Jatobà in south west Bahia. The deep red road continues out in the bush, full of tracks from lorries, and we hear a suffering, strained diesel engine from far inside the 88,000-hectare forest area. It is Saturday morning, but for the Danes who run the million-project Floryl, there is no five-day week. The profit-making machines mustn't stop.
We park up by the road block. The trees are softly rattling in the autumn heat and we hear the guard repeating his message on the radio: "I've got two Swedes here, shall I let them in?"
Five minutes later Lars Jensen and his assistants arrive in a pick-up. He is pale but well-dressed, gives us a friendly greeting and asks for identification documents. We show him press cards and hand him our business cards. We explain that we want to see this gigantic Danish ranch in the middle of nowhere and we also want some information about the aid project.
Lars Jensen gives a chilly look: "I'm sorry that you had to travel so far just in vain. In principle, I do not talk to journalists and I must ask you to leave the area."
And that is his final word. He no longer responds when spoken to. Every question is answered with a look which says: "You heard me!".
We continue in the taxi. Lars Jensen stays by the checkpoint until he is convinced we are gone.
His reaction doesn't really surprise us. The Danish Tvind movement and its network of companies and associated aid organisations, with UFF, Humana and Planet Aid as front names, do not want any investigation. Journalists are branded enemies of the movement and a line of skilful lawyers are ready to deny articles, public investigations and statements from former supporters and associates who have left the projects.
The approximately 200 project leaders and businesspeople who are in the so-called Teachers Group are as informative as one of UFF's yellow collection boxes, and disclose nothing about Tvind's now-worldwide activities. They obey, and keep on working, often without talking to each other, loyal to the leader, the legendary Mogens Amdi Petersen, who has hardly been seen by anybody for the last 20 years.
Of course, our taxi driver from Posse is unaware of this. He doesn't understand why we were stopped and he is even less aware of anything when we tell him that the Danes run the project to be able to help poor people in the Third World.
"Help?" he says, and laughs. "No-one gets any help here. On the contrary. At Floryl they cut down trees. Most of it is sold as timber. Some is sawn to boards, some is sold as charcoal. There are no areas for cultivation and regrowth. Only underpaid workers."
We travel to Posse, which is the nearest town with a population of approximately 25,000. It is a typical place with a mixture of better areas with detached houses, and slums. Just about everyone has a connection to the bigger industry in the area. Everyone also knows Floryl. They remember when the land was owned by the Shell group of companies, and they talk about the destruction and exploitation that started when the Danes took over.
The young reverend father Moacir is conducting a service for the children in the packed church by the square in Posse. He is upset and shocked by the poverty in his parish. Father Moacir comes from the university city of Presidente Prudentè in Sao Paolo state, where society is completely different.
He takes us to some of his parishioners: 35-year olds with aged faces and worn-out bodies, children with torn clothes and youngsters without a future. Some have sought comfort in a beer, others are just sitting around. Some have been made redundant, others show scars and hands with missing fingers after chain saw accidents at Floryl, as the Fazenda is still called.
Father Moacir smiles when we tell him about the yellow boxes which are used in Sweden to collect money, and he nods happily when he hears about the shops selling second hand clothes and other used items. "Solidarity across borders" he says. But the smile changes when we tell him that large amounts from the sales have been invested in Floryl, not to help the poor in Brazil, but to use them. Floryl is a commercial enterprise which is supposed to give Humana more money for the projects in Africa and in India. The leaders of Humana do not even mention the poor farm workers in Floryl and the other 20 farms in Latin America. Solidarity - brotherhood - and the idea of creating a better world where everybody helps everybody else, and where you take care of the environment, is no concern of the commercial enterprise.
"There is not a trace of humanity at Floryl," he says, and laughs so loud that people at nearby tables look up in surprise and astonishment. "The Danes at Floryl suck their workers dry. They are a disgrace as employers. They don't deal in humanity, but in the worst kind of capitalism."
The Tvind movement bought Floryl from Shell about seven years ago. The price was $9.3m, and for that they got a land area of 88,000 hectares. 38,000 hectares was Eucalyptus, planted by Shell during its 12 years as owners. There was also a well-equipped laboratory and a horticultural research school, offices and staff accommodation. A field for landing small planes and luxurious housing for managers came too.
At the price it was seen as a bargain. The senior Tvind leader, Anne Nielsen, who has taken care of the movement's finances since the 1980s and who still lives at the farm, signed the purchase agreement and paid some 30m Danish krone as a down-payment.
It might seem strange that the Floryl Fazenda is not mentioned when Tvind and its sister-organisations UFF, Humana and IICD try to find sponsors and supporters. Humana describes food cooperatives, aid to small farmers, nursery schools and investments in schools and the importance of creating a better world for the poor, but they 'forget' Floryl and all the farms, industry and companies.
"Tvind is a poor organisation, but in spite of that it is fighting to help the poor in the Third World." That is the image they want to have officially, as well as internally. What it means only the leader Amdi Petersen and a few of those closest to him, and the most loyal in the financial governing body, the Teachers Group, know.
"We only know that Tvind owns a forestry plantation in Brazil, but that is all," says one of them, who has left the Teachers Group, and spoke to us after the visit to Jatobà. Though he was in Tvind's inner ircle, he was never informed about what was going on at Floryl or who works there.
"Amdi Petersen has hand-picked the group of leaders. From the names you mention, I realise the project must be very important for Amdi, and very big. Lars Jensen was Amdi's security guard during the 1980s and the 90s. He is an architect and has been in the Teachers Group since 1971. He is incredibly loyal and is in the top of Tvind," says the person who has left the project, and wants to remain anonymous.
"Anne Nielsen has dealt with the finances since the mid-1980s, Birgitte Krohn calls herself managing director of Floryl. She was living with Amdi in the villa in Grindsted and has also spent a lot of time in Miami where Tvind has a secret head office for its companies.
"It is possible that one person or a few people know how much money the business generates, but it is only Amdi who knows where the profits are going."
The purchase of Shell's Floryl plantation six years ago was finalised after long negotiations, and according to the contract the main product was to be wood cellulose. The Tvind spokesman Michael Norling, now leader of the American-Canadian sister organisation Planet Aid, had inspected the forest several times and when the sales contract was written it was mainly in the name of Floresta Atlantica (Brazil) Ltd. The owner was Tropical Farming, based in the tax haven Cayman Islands. Florestica Atlantica then became Fazenda Floresta Jatobà, which has now become Floryl Florestadora Ype S/A. That's the same name it had when owned by Shell. But today's owners are Tvind and UFF's shadow company in the British tax haven of Jersey, Bahia Farming Ltd and Lyle Enterprise. Executives are Thomas Vaeth and Elly Jensen. Vaeth has also been involved in land deals in Belize and Ecuador via Cayman Island-based Tvind companies.
"Are you with me? Well, you're not supposed to be," says Marcelo da Silva, who takes care of taxation issues in Bahia. "The companies change names to avoid taxation and investigation in Brazil."
Marcelo looks at the activities at Floryl as money laundering. The company makes millions by supplying support poles for vineyards in Argentina, Chile and Portugal. Timber is also sold to Denmark, Malaysia and Japan, and Brazilian steel-companies get supplies of charcoal.
"The profits are in millions, but where the money goes, we do not know," he says.
José Valdonio Soares de Morais was a clerk at Floryl until the autumn of 1997, and he does not know where the profits are going. "The book keeping was organised by the Danes. I only dealt with small accounts and got no information or the full picture. But I know the company made an official profit of 9million krone a year and more was earned and not accounted for.
"The purchase of Floryl was made in Danish krone, the people at Tvind received monthly payments of 1.5 million krone for wages for the 650 staff, machinery and other costs. The money was transferred via the Central Bank of Brazil to the bank of Bamerindus and then to accounts at the Bradescobank.
"The payments were made in Denmark and they were made even though the company in Brazil was doing well," says José Valdonio, who was fired two years ago. He made the mistake of protesting against the treatment of the employees and he had also allowed himself to be interviewed by a Danish journalist. But none of that was mentioned in managing director Brigitte Nielsen's letter to José Valdonio. She said he was late with his rent, not mentioning that Floryl had not paid his salary.
The same day the interview was published in Denmark, a fax arrived from Denmark. Tvind's leaders were worried that the Brazilians would find out about the connections with the aid organisation. That would eventually cause a lot of damage.
"Tvind has been lucky. Nobody here, not even me who has dealt with the accounts , knew that the company was owned by an aid organisation. People would be furious if they knew. To them Floryl is a profit machine without a heart. There is no help whatsoever from UFF or Humana or whatever organisation,. It is the poor who help the Danes to mint money."
Joaquin Gomes da Silva, who is a local union leader, agrees with him.
"The Danes are plundering, with regard both to the environment and the workers, they do not obey the laws and they don't recognise any unions. Most of the workers today come from poor areas in regions outside Bahia. They are promised good wages and they are given a bus ticket.
"But they are cheated. Floryl doesn't stick to agreements and the workers have to work for ten to 12 hours a day for less than a minimum wage which is 136 reals a month (about £50). They work for 15 days, and are supposed to have two days off, but most of the time they have to work then as well. They have no chance to leave the area and are afraid of losing the job, should they complain.
"This is mainly about poor people who can't read or write," he says. "They would stand for any abuse, just as long as they can keep their jobs. Their work permits and other documents are taken away from them when they arrive at Floryl and anyone who wants to complain has nowhere to turn. He can't afford or has no chance to travel the 160 miles to the authorities in Barreiras, or the 120 miles to the union in Correntina to make a complaint."
Manuel, one of the foremen, has nothing to complain about, he is an important man in Floryl's business activity and earns good money. He works close to Lars Jensen, and considers him a fanatic.
"I don't understand him, or the others in the leader group. They work 20 hours a day, they never shower or wash their clothes. The Danes have sold the remains of the furniture left by Shell. They have no hot water and the houses are falling apart. Most of them don't talk to each other, Lars Jensen thinks the Brazilians don't know anything or understand anything. I have seen him spitting in people's faces when they don't obey him, or disagree with him."
Manuel is just as surpised as the rest when we mention brotherhood, solidarity, help from people to people, a new and better world - the slogans on UFF and Humana yellow boxes which are almost everywhere in the world.
"How can you say you work for a better world when you keep plundering the jungle? Floryl hasn't planted one single tree on the enormous expanse they are plundering. Nor have they planted one single seed of soya or corn, although the climate is the best in Brazil."
He is not lying - Floryl was easy to spot when we traveled from Barreiras. We flew for mile after mile over blooming fields and enormous pastures. Harvesters and tractors could be seen on the perfect squares and circles with fields of grain and forest. All of a sudden, everything changed. Everything became naked, cut down. Along a swathe 20 miles wide and 30 miles long, we couldn't see a single soya plant and not a single cornfield.
"Floryl is well known here," says another local government official. "There is nothing good to say about it. They cut down trees without replanting anything. No insurance premium is paid, although it is compulsory, and they cheat the workers of money meant for the so-called employment fund, money that is deducted from the wages but never paid out. There are no ambulances or medical staff in case of accidents. Not one real has been spent on aid to the pooror on fields where they can grow food.
"The Danes hide behind their security guards. They're never seen in town - they don't go to restaurants or belong to local clubs."
The police in Posse know the UFF farm. But they only have good experience. There are no criminal reports of violence or that people have been held against their will, and they refuse to comment on reports that people have been arrested at the request of Floryl, that someone has been arrested for talking about the terrible situation at the Fazenda and for filming there with a camcorder.
Joaquin shakes his head in disappointment. A video film would be worth its weight in gold to the union
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