In a dramatic twist of fate, a reclusive tribe deep within the Amazon rainforest has entered the digital age, only to find itself torn apart by the addictive allure of social media and pornography.
This seismic shift occurred when the Marubo tribe, a community of 2000 members nestled along the Ituí River, was connected to the internet thanks to Elon Musk’s Starlink service. The satellite internet system, lauded for bringing high-speed connectivity to the remotest corners of the globe, reached the Marubo nine months ago, changing their lives in ways they never imagined.
“When it arrived, everyone was happy,” recalls Tsainama Marubo, a 73-year-old elder. “But now, things have gotten worse. Young people have gotten lazy because of the internet, they’re learning the ways of the white people.”
The Marubo, known for their strict adherence to traditional customs and a chaste lifestyle that even discourages public kissing, are now grappling with the disruptive influence of the internet. Alfredo Marubo expressed deep concerns about the erosion of decorum within the tribe. “Many young men have been sharing porn videos in group chats, and we’ve already noticed more aggressive sexual behavior among them,” he lamented. “We’re worried young people are going to want to try it. Everyone is so connected that sometimes they don’t even talk to their own family.”
Starlink operates by connecting antennas to a network of 6000 low-orbiting satellites. These essential antennas were donated by American entrepreneur Allyson Reneau, initially heralded as a savior for the tribe. The internet connection allowed the Marubo to quickly contact authorities in emergencies, such as deadly snake bites, a development that has undoubtedly saved lives. “It’s already saved lives,” confirmed Enoque Marubo, 40.
The internet also enabled the tribe to share educational resources with other Amazonian tribes and reconnect with friends and family who have moved away. It has opened a new world of possibilities for the younger generation, sparking dreams of travel and higher education. One teen now dreams of exploring the world, while another aspires to become a dentist in São Paulo.
However, these benefits come with significant drawbacks. Enoque pointed out the drastic lifestyle changes brought about by the internet. “It changed the routine so much that it was detrimental. In the village, if you don’t hunt, fish, and plant, you don’t eat.”
TamaSay Marubo, 42, added, “Some young people maintain our traditions. Others just want to spend the whole afternoon on their phones.”
Concerned about the potential loss of their oral history and cultural heritage, Marubo leaders have imposed strict internet usage limits: two hours each morning, five hours each evening, and all day on Sundays. Despite these measures, parents fear the damage may already be irreversible.
Kâipa Marubo voiced his anxiety about his children’s exposure to violent first-person shooter games. “I’m worried that they’re suddenly going to want to mimic them,” he said.
Moreover, the lack of digital literacy has made the Marubo vulnerable to internet scams, and many youngsters are engaging in risky conversations with strangers on social media.
Flora Dutra, a Brazilian activist who played a key role in connecting the Marubo to the internet, believes the concerns are overblown. She asserts that most tribespeople “wanted and deserved” access to the wider world. However, some Brazilian officials have criticized the initiative, fearing it could lead to the loss of unique cultural identities.
“This is called ethnocentrism,” Dutra countered. “The white man thinking they know what’s best.”
As the Marubo navigate this new digital frontier, they face a delicate balancing act: embracing the opportunities the internet offers while safeguarding their rich cultural heritage from the encroaching tide of modernity.
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