Indigenous Rights

Un camino seco fue lo que dejó el desvío del arroyo Bruno en la Guajira, Colombia
Indigenous Rights, Mining, Freshwater Sources

Coal or life: Walking where a stream once ran

The appointment was on a hot Sunday in July. Together with Wayuu indigenous and Afro-descendant communities displaced by coal mining, members of social and human rights organizations, employees of Cerrejón, and government officials, I walked for more than five hours over the barren land where the Bruno Stream once ran. What I saw in my path were the remains of snails that died of thirst, stuck to the mud, and the lifeless body of a tigrillo that showed us so clearly what mustn’t happen again. The Bruno is a vein of water that once irrigated the department of La Guajira, located in Colombia’s far north, a region hit years ago by extreme drought. It is a major tributary of the Ranchería River, one of the department’s most important water sources, and forms part of the underground water systems that have long given life to the region’s communities. It was painful to walk where the Bruno once flowed free, and to think—while doing so—that what is now a dry riverbed was once abundant with life. That Sunday, we also toured the area intended to be the artificial channel of the stream. In 2014, the National Environmental Licensing Authority authorized Cerrejón to divert 3.6 kilometers of Bruno’s flow to favor ongoing coal exploitation in La Guajira. Several things made on impact on me that day. One of them was that, although the rivers belong to us all and natural water sources are public, we were accompanied the entire time by employees of the company. While walking the stream, we entered the land “owned” by the coal-mining concessionaire. Communities that used to travel freely along the banks of the stream can no longer do so today. Although the Bruno is one of few streams in Colombia’s driest department and one of the scarce sources of fresh water for communities living there, its channel was clogged and diverted to facilitate mining. An engineering project has altered one of the most important streams for a thirsty region and created an artificial path through which not a single drop of water flows. “If they carry water, they’re rivers; if not, they’re roads,” a verse from Guatemalan indigenous poet Humberto Ak’abal teaches us. The new “channel” of the Bruno is not a river, but “a barren road” attesting to the deterioration of a sensitive ecosystem. The “road” does not recover or mitigate the damages from the stream’s diversion. On the contrary, it produces new ones. The world is facing a climate crisis, and coal mining is one of its primary causes. While many countries are replacing the use of coal in their energy matrices with cleaner options, Colombia has decided to dry up a river to exploit more and more coal. Walking paths of justice The day after the walk, the frustration of the absurd did not prevent me from embracing a glimmer of hope. On Monday, I joined representatives of indigenous communities and local organizations at a public hearing convened by several Congressmen to discuss what happened with the Bruno. The strength and dignity of their words, in which decades of resistance were encrypted, fed my soul. “This territory is ours, our rivers are our life and we care for life—for our children, for our present, for our future and that of the world.” As it has done many times before, La Guajira spoke to the country and the world. They told the Congressmen that it’s not possible to prioritize the use of water for mining over human consumption. They warned that the country must transition to an energy production that doesn’t cause the damages that coal mining has to the climate, human rights, and the species and ecosystems that sustain us. The stream must return to its channel, the snails must drink again from its waters, and no tigrillo should die due to the intentional destruction of its natural habitat. In a 2017 ruling, the Constitutional Court demonstrated that uncertainties exist as to the environmental and social impacts of the Bruno Stream riverbed modification project. The Court ordered the creation of an Inter-Institutional working group to resolve the complaints of the affected people. Communities will continue to demand compliance with that ruling and demonstrate that the uncertainties are, in fact, certain damages that will continue to undermine their lives. AIDA, along with our partner organizations, will continue to accompany this struggle to demonstrate the harms of coal mining and promote clean alternatives that respect both people and the environment.  

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Climate Change, Indigenous Rights, Freshwater Sources

Infographic: Lakes Poopó and Uru Uru, at-risk Bolivian wetlands

Located in the central-eastern Bolivian highlands, lakes Poopó and Uru Uru are important sources of water for indigenous and rural communities and the area's planet and animal life.  Both ecosystems, considered Wetlands of International Importance under the Ramsar Convention, are at serious risk due to mining activity, river diversion and the climate crisis.  

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Indigenous Rights, Mining, Freshwater Sources

Communities request international support to save Bolivia’s Poopó and Uru Uru lakes

Local communities and organizations call on the Ramsar Convention to visit the lakes and issue recommendations for their preservation. The lakes are at grave risk from mining, river diversion and the climate crisis, threatening the subsistence of indigenous communities and the region’s unique plant and animal species. La Paz, Bolivia.  Local communities along with a coalition of organizations request that the Ramsar Convention, an intergovernmental treaty for the protection of wetlands, send an expert mission to evaluate the health of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru, and issue recommendations to the Bolivian government for the urgent recovery of these key ecosystems. “The Ramsar Convention’s specialized knowledge on wetlands can be of great use to save lakes Poopó and Uru Uru,” said Carlos Lozano Acosta, senior attorney with the Interamerican Association for Environmental Defense (AIDA). These lakes are an important source of water for the plants and animals of the Central-Eastern Bolivian highlands, particularly for several endemic and migratory bird species. Lake Poopó is the second largest lake in Bolivia, after the iconic Lake Titicaca. Together, the lakes host the largest number of flamingos in the Bolivian highlands and, quite possibly, in the entire high Andean region of South America. These highland ecosystems are also home to unique species such as the Titicaca grebe (Rollandia microptera), an endangered species of flightless bird. The lives and livelihoods of peasant and indigenous populations—including Quechua, Aymara, and Uru Murato communities—depend on the preservation of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru. The Uru Murato are known as the “people of water” due to their dependence on the lakes, and are among the oldest native indigenous communities in Bolivia. “It was precisely to preserve the lakes that, in 2002, the government registered Poopó and Uru Uru as wetlands of international importance under the Ramsar Convention,” explained Sergio Vásquez, director of the Andean Communication and Development Center (CENDA). “As such, we ask that Ramsar support the Bolivian government in the protection of these and other high Andean wetlands.” In December 2015, the water levels of Lake Poopó were reduced to such a degree that the body of water actually disappeared, in what is now considered one of the largest environmental catastrophes in the country. The causes were various: sedimentation produced by mining activity; the diversion of the lake’s tributary rivers; and natural phenomenon aggravated by the climate crisis. Although the lake’s levels have since increased in times of rain, the situation remains critical during the dry season. “We’re requesting that Ramsar experts identify measures to strengthen the surveillance and monitoring of these ecosystems,” said Angela Cuenca, of the Coordinated Collective for Socio-Environmental Actions (CASA Collective). “We’d also like them to recommend mitigation and restoration actions for the damages caused by mining activities.” The degradation of lakes Poopó and Uru Uru directly affects the wellbeing of the people who depend on them, causing harms to public health, particularly among women, girls and boys. The grave situation of the lakes forced the Uru Murato people, previously dedicated to fishing, to migrate for work in the mines, placing them among the region’s first climate refugees. “We indigenous and rural women live and feel the effects of pollution and the lake’s disappearance, because we are responsible for feeding and sustaining our families,” explained Margarita Aquino, from the National Network of Women Defenders of Mother Earth (RENAMAT). “These water sources are vital for our communities and for Mother Earth Press contact: Victor Quintanilla (Mexico), AIDA, [email protected], +5215570522107  

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Indigenous Rights, Human Rights

International tribunal supports indigenous struggle for the Amazon

“The most beautiful jungle in the world,” wrote Alcides D’orbigny, a French biologist, of the Isiboro Sécure Indigenous Territory and National Park (known locally as Tipnis, for its Spanish initials) in the 1830s. Located between the departments of Beni and Cochabamba, Tipnis is a natural protected area that extends over 12,363 square kilometers of Bolivian Amazon. It’s one of the world’s most biodiverse sites and home to many indigenous cultures—among them the Mojeño Trinitarios, the Tsiman and the Turacaré.  Despite its recognition as a National Park and Indigenous Territory, the area has for decades been threatened by a proposed highway that would effectively divide it in two. The construction would cause grave social and environmental damages, some of which have already occurred—two of three proposed stretches of road have already been built.  As long as the highway has been proposed, the indigenous people of Tipnis have stood strong in their resistence, calling to protect the rainforest and the life it holds. Their efforts paid off last month in a precedent-setting legal victory for the protection of human rights and the environment.  The International Rights of Nature Tribunal ruled that the Bolivian State had “violated” the rights of nature and of the indigenous people that inhabit Tipnis by encouraging the highway’s construction.  The Tribunal was created in April 2010 at the People’s Conference on Climate Change and the Rights of Mother Earth, when the Universal Declaration of Rights of Mother Earth was also signed.  Its role is to establish and investigate any violation of the rights outlined in the Declaration and found in the internal laws of each country. The Tribunal determines whether there was a violation and, if so, who was responsible. It emits recommendations, advisory opinions, and can determine provisional measures.  Indigenous defense of the Bolivian Amazon The proposed highway through Tipnis has spurred strong indigenous resistance, and has also caused great suffering. The most painful incident happened in 2011 when more than 100 indigenous people marching on La Paz, headquarters of the Bolivian government, were brutally repressed by police. Despite the conflict, that demonstration achieved the enactment of a law that bestowed the national park the status of “intangible zone” or absolute reserve. Unfortunately, six years later, that law was null and void when the government enacted a new law through more expeditious process.  Tipnis indigenous representatives denounced this and other acts before the International Rights of Nature Tribunal, which agreed to consider the case in January 2018, and then sent an international commission of observers to visit the zone and interview stakeholders.  Indigenous representatives denounced that, despite being a single roadway, the project was actually presented separately, in three separate phases. Currently, only the final section remains unconstructed.  Other irregularities included the awarding of the project to a Brazilian company without first completing an environmental impact assessment, and the lack of adequate consultation with affected indigenous communities.  The Tribunal's sentence, issued May 15, finds the Bolivian government responsible for rights violations and calls for immediate compliance with measures including: Definitively stopping of any progress on construction; Recognizing the faculties of indigenous peoples to guarantee their control in Tipnis, including territorial autonomy and the right to prior consultation; Annuling a law that removed the status of intangible zone from Tipnis; Stopping the advance of colonization toward the central zone of the national park; Canceling plans for oil expansion on the site; Effectively applying the law to guarantee the protection of the rights of Mother Earth; and Guaranteeing indigenous peoples their fundamental role as defenders of Mother Earth.  What’s next for Tipnis?  Although the Tribunal’s judgment is not binding, it is a precedent established by a recognized and ethical court. For this reason, the Coordinator of Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon River Basin—an international indigenous organization—announced it would use the ruling as an instrument of proof to bring the case before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.  The situation in Tipnis is complex.  While construction of the missing section was suspended after losing credit for its execution, some actors continue to defend the road as fundamental to connecting the center and the north of the country, facilitating access to basic services and other development opportunities for the communities of Tipnis.  The other side of that argument is the extensive environmental degradation to an area rich in biodiversity—acknowleding that the road would be just the beginning of activities within the protected area.  I don’t believe anyone has the absolute answer. And so my analysis isn’t about making a value judgment, but about complying with the law, which resides in reason and justice.  Although part of the road is constructed, there is much more to go, and so the resistance continues. The Tribunal’s decision can and should be used as an added impulse toward protecting the land.  In the end, every effort is worthwhile knowing that the destruction of such a valuable natural ecosystem represents a point of no return.   

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Indigenous Rights, Accountability and Transparency, Human Rights

Inter-American Commission to examine rollback of indigenous rights in Brazil

In a hearing before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, civil society organizations will demonstrate how measures adopted by the administration of Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro are undoing decades of human rights protections in the country. Rio De Janiero, Brazil. On May 9, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) will hear how measures adopted by the government of President Jair Bolsonaro have rolled back protections for human rights in the country, creating a dangerous situation for indigenous communities and violating Brazil’s international obligations to protect human rights. The hearing was requested by the Interamerican Association for Environmental Defense, International Rivers, Conectas, Teles Pires Forum, Operation Native Amazon and Brazil Indigenous People Articulation (APIB) in an effort to halt further rollbacks, and to demand a reversal of the government’s actions that are currently threatening indigenous communities. The hearing will form part of the Commission’s 172 Period of Sessions, which is taking place in Kingston, Jamaica from May 3 to 10, 2019. During the hearing, organizations will detail how reforms made by the Bolsonaro government in matters of law, public policy, foreign policy, and other areas, violate the preservation of indigenous communities’ way of life in the country. The case will also show how those reforms violate communities’ rights to life, culture, food, a healthy environment, clean water, and the delimitation of their ancestral homelands, among others. The government has diminished legal and administrative protections for indigenous communities through the following actions: The transfer of key functions from the Ministry of Environment to the Ministry of Agriculture. Increased precarity for employees at the Brazilian Institute for the Environment and Renewable Natural Resources. Weakening of the Chico Mendes Institute for the Conservation of Biodiversity and of the process for granting environmental permits. The threat of exposing indigenous lands to the dangers of mining. Measures adopted by the Ministry of Environment that fragment the legal order that guarantees minimum conditions for the protection of the environment and indigenous rights. The transfer of authority for the demarcation of indigenous lands from the National Indian Foundation to the Ministry of Agriculture. The threat of withdrawing Brazil from international treaties like the Paris Agreement and others valuable agreements to protect the environment and human rights. In addition to these rollbacks, the above organizations assert that the situation has been aggravated by increased deforestation, encroachment on indigenous lands, and violence against environmental and human rights defenders.  press contacts Victor Quintanilla (Mexico), AIDA, [email protected], +521 5570522107 Eloy Terena (Brazil), Brazil Indigenous People Articulation (APIB), [email protected], +55 61 9695-1377  

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Indigenous Rights, Public Participation, Human Rights

Listening to indigenous peoples to save the planet

More than 400 indigenous groups live throughout Latin America, many at home in the region’s protected areas, according to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization. Their ancestral knowledge of and connection to the natural world has been recognized as a way to guarantee a healthy environment and cope with climate change.  Yet society seldom listens to them to learn how to best protect our natural resources. Pu’amé is a Cora expression that means “you first.” It’s used to give way to someone, but also as an expression of respect when someone is talking; it’s a way of saying, “Continue, I’m listening.” Julián López, a Náyeri indigenous leader who speaks Cora, explains this to me in a meeting with members of rural communities in Nayarit, México. I’ve come to listen. During the meeting, pu’amé becomes a way of helping us pay attention and understand. To listen to representatives of indigenous communities is to confront a different worldview, particularly for those of us who exist in the urban, western world. While our way of life is focused on consumption and dependent on exploitation, indigenous communities see the Earth as a source of bounty that requires care and gratitude; it provides them with food and health. These conflicting visions have resulted in the incessant violation of indigenous rights, putting at risk not only their cultural integrity, but also their very lives. To achieve real dialogue with indigenous peoples, you must understand them, Julián tells me, while teaching me a few words in Cora. Opposing visions of development Representatives of rural Mexicanero and Cora communities from the upper and lower regions of the San Pedro Mezquital river basin have come to this meeting to discuss the Las Cruces hydroelectric project. Their concerns are many: if the dam, or any other sacred site, is constructed, what will be the fate of their children and their sacred sites? What will happen to the life of the river, the quality of the fish, and the natural balance? Odilión de Jesús López, also Náyeri, expresses his concern that authorities “don’t value that caring for nature is for the good of all.” He questions the pushback he has received for defending the river and his community’s sacred sites. “How do we use sacred sites? We bring offerings, and give thanks for the good in life.” Julián raises his hand and questions the conflicting ways of seeing development. “Development at what cost? We can’t compete with the way they see development, because what they see is money. We need to ask, what do we want in our villages?” Julián reminds us all that real wealth can be found in clean air, in a river full of fish. But he also speaks of something else: poverty. While it’s true that indigenous people want to protect their land and culture, Julián admits that inaction is not an option. There are families that can’t even fulfill their children’s basic needs: health, education and a balanced diet. But he also knows that won’t be achieved by destroying the world around them. “What if we were trained to use forests sustainably?” he suggests. The representatives of the lower basin, almost all Mexicaneros, agree with him. They want to learn how to use the resources available downstream to ensure steady work. Julián mentions something else that concerns us all: instability. He himself has been the victim of threats and harassment since he began opposing the dam. During a visit to Mexico, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders pointed out that indigenous activists and environmentalists are the most criminalized defenders. Their work is often related to large-scale mining, energy and infrastructure projects. Julián understands the situation of defenders throughout the region. He says that he doesn’t feel alone in the fight to protect the rivers, and he understands that risks are everywhere. “If they kill a defender in Colombia,” he says, “it harms us too.” Women and Mother Earth If the situation is complicated for indigenous men who seek to make their voices heard, it’s even more so for women who speak out in defense of their territory. Marcelina López, a Náyeri leader, speaks softly, glances down at her hands, and shares how difficult it’s been to fight for her community. Then, with a clear and strong voice, she explains, “The authorities treat me badly because I am indigenous and a woman. Of course, we are poor and indigenous; but we are rich because of Mother Earth.” Marcelina speaks of the little they have been consulted for development projects, of the purchase of consent through municipal services, and of the constant discourse that indigenous people don’t know how to see “beyond,” to see progress. “What they don’t understand is that we choose not to exploit some things because we are afraid of contaminating, and the river always comes first,” she explains. Gila de la Cruz, also Náyeri, timidly agrees with Marcelina. She tells us that, as a woman, she’s only been consulted on issues related to children. She says she has an opinion about the river, the services in her community, and the production of food; she mentions a drainage project that she and a large portion of her community disapprove of. She asks us not to misunderstand her, but she believes things shouldn’t happen just because they’ve always been done that way. She’s worried that they haven’t explained everything. “What happens after they put the tubes in? Where does the water go, to the river? Why can’t we reuse the water?” Gila’s complaint makes sense: the river could be at risk, the authorities don’t explain what they're doing, and then they scold her for questioning them. “There are other options, I've seen them,” she says. “There are ways to be more sustainable and not contaminate the water. " Angry now, she says that her opinions have not been heard because she is a woman. Why we must listen to indigenous voices All the representatives agree on one thing: they do not want to be seen as a closed opposition, without the desire to have a better life. They’re merely asking for dialogue. Among their activities as peasants, artisans and fishermen, they’ve made time to organize themselves, to learn about their rights, to master a language that is not their own, and take their concerns to the relevant institutions. They all agree that there are sustainable ways to better their quality of life without affecting the environment. Julián hopes that, ultimately, indigenous groups and authorities can reach a mutual understanding. “Can we all work together—organizations, governments and indigenous peoples? I think so,” he says. Julián asks for training; he wants to learn about infrastructure, and about a socially responsible economy. Gila and Marcelina have dedicated themselves to seeking more sustainable options to produce their food, to build something, to be healthy. "We just need to be taught," Gila says. Humanity is going through a period in which it's become necessary to question all our schemes: our ways of consumption, of using resources, of seeking comfort. Indigenous peoples have lived for centuries in a much more sustainable way than societies constructed under the ethos of the industrial revolution. They offer us, in many ways, examples and opportunities to learn again, to change and to improve. "One day there will be a public space where there is no fear, where I can say anything," Gila says. She speaks about progress made in recent years, noting that they’ve been slowly gaining space.  "They should start listening to women,” she says. “They think we should be at home, but we’re here, organizing." Marcelina adds, with satisfaction, "This is how you feel when you’re fighting for your life.”  

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Indigenous Rights, Mining, Human Rights

How Brazil is threatening indigenous and environmental rights

With the new presidency, Brazil has entered an unfortunate period of changes—to legislation, governmental structure, and foreign and public policy—that will set the nation back decades on the issues of climate, the environment and human rights. The new administration has made a host of extremely questionable decisions that signal the weakening of guarantees for indigenous peoples in Brazil, the Amazon, and the environment as a whole. Some of the reforms that most stand out include: The transfer of the Ministry of the Environment’s most important functions to the Ministry of Agriculture. The weakening of governmental entities responsible for monitoring cases of environmental crimes. The transfer of responsibility for demarcating indigenous lands from the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI) to the Ministry of Agriculture. The suspension of contracts signed between state entities and civil society organizations. The weakening of the process for granting environmental permits. Continuous threats to withdraw Brazil from international agreements on the protection of the environment and indigenous peoples, including the recent threat to leave ILO Convention 169. These changes seem to be just the beginning, and the outlook could worsen at any moment. The latest move to undermine environmental protection in Brazil is the apparent opening of indigenous lands to large-scale mining projects. In March, Brazil’s Minister of Mines and Energy announced to attendees of one of the largest global mining events (the annual convention of the Prospectors & Developers Association of Canada) that he would seek authorization for mining activities in indigenous and border areas. He stated that indigenous peoples would not have the autonomy to prevent the installation of mines in their territory. The State’s priority, this move implies, will be to promote irresponsible development over the protection of human rights. How mining threatens indigenous lands Last year, a government decree (Decree 9406) established drastic changes and new flexibility for mining activities, including successive extensions for permits in the event of lack of access, lack of consent or permission of the environmental agency, and the consideration that mining's foundations are the national interest and public utility. But mining itself is not in the national interest, since it implies great environmental damage and throws ecosystems out of balance. It must instead be recognized as a high-risk activity that causes destruction and contamination. Brazil has been incapable of safely regulating mining activities. We need only think of the rupture of two dams of mining waste in less than four years in the state of Minas Gerais. The first case in Mariana is considered the greatest environmental tragedy in Brazil’s history, and the second, earlier this year in Brumadinho, resulted in 197 deaths and 111 missing persons. If the government’s need for mining is undeniable, so is the need for stricter controls, the use of safer techniques, and a serious national assessment of the viability of each and every mine. Given the serious environmental damage associated with mining, its implementation on indigenous lands implies transferring those damages to a minority and vulnerable population that depends directly on the health of the environment for its physical and cultural survival. Indigenous communities have the constitutional right to be heard on projects that may affect them; some communities have even created protocols on how they want to be consulted. To build a mine against the will of a community is to violate their rights to life, to self-determination, to autonomy, to culture, to not being forcibly displaced, to benefit from their native territories, and to a healthy environment, among many others. The statements of the Minister of Mines and Energy represent a complete lack of commitment to the fundamental rights established in the Brazilian Constitution, as well as to internationally recognized human rights. They reveal a singular intention to appease investors, particularly the Canadian company behind the Belo Sun mining project, which seeks to mine indigenous lands already impacted by the construction of the Belo Monte Dam. In defense of indigenous peoples Mining on indigenous lands is not yet adequately regulated in Brazil. What the country needs is for Congress to approve a law that respects the fundamental rights of indigenous communities and protects their lands, while including communities in the process. The setbacks posed by the current administration have only strengthened the resistance of indigenous communities, and those of us who support them. Civil society organizations like AIDA are committed to defending human rights, safeguarding indigenous territory, and holding governments and corporations accountable whenever they pose a threat.  

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Large Dams, Indigenous Rights, Human Rights

Statement on the Assassination of Dilma Ferreira Silva, leader of Brazil’s Movement of Dam-Affected Peoples

In the face of the brutal crime committed on March 22nd against a coordinator of the Movement of Dam-Affected Peoples in Brazil, the undersigned human rights and environmental organizations call on Brazilian authorities and multilateral organizations to ensure that the country’s obligations regarding the protection of human rights and environmental defenders are enforced. With deep sadness and indignation, we received the news that Dilma Ferreira Silva, a regional coordinator of Brazil’s Movement of Dam-Affected Peoples (MAB), together with her husband Claudionor Costa da Silva and Hilton Lopes, a friend of the family, were assassinated on Friday, March 22nd in the Amazonian state of Pará. The bodies of the three victims were found in her residence with signs of torture. Dilma Ferreira Silva was a prominent activist and recognized leader who, for more than three decades, fought for the rights of the people affected by the Tucuruí mega-hydroelectric dam project on the Tocantins River of the Brazilian Amazon, built during the country’s military dictatorship 1964-1985), provoking the displacement of an estimated 32,000 people, along with serious environmental damage. This is not the first case of a brutal murder perpetrated against a human rights defender in the region of the Tucurui dam.  In April 2009, Raimundo Nonato do Carmo, a union leader who fought on behalf of those whose lives were ruined by the Tucuruí dam was shot seven times by two men on a motorcycle as he walked out of a supermarket on the street in which he lived in the town of Tucuruí. Dilma dedicated her life to promoting national policies that would effectively take into account the rights of dam-affected peoples, with due attention to gender issues that particularly affect the rights of women. Dilma Ferreira lived in the rural settlement of Salvador Allende, where land titles were issued for family farmers by the federal government in 2012, as a result of a popular mobilization of the Movement of the Landless Workers (MST), with support from MAB.  However, the area continued to be coveted by land grabbers (grileiros) that invade and seize control of public and community lands.  One such example is Fernando Ferreira Rosa Filho (aka ‘Fernandinho’) arrested by the civil police force of the state of Pará as the principal suspect in the triple homicide of Dilma Ferreira, Claudionor Costa da Silva and Hilton Lopes. The assassination of Dilma Ferreira Silva is evidence of the grave situation faced by human rights and environmental defenders in Brazil, a country that tops the global ranking in violence practiced against defenders, with one person murdered every six days in 2017. The incoming administration of President Jair Bolsonaro has intensified recent attempts to undermine Brazil’s progressive legislation on environmental protection and human rights - especially those of indigenous peoples, quilombolas (descendants of African slaves), family farmers and other traditional populations.  Such attempts have often clashed with Brazil’s progressive Federal Constitution, approved in 1988 during a period of redemocratization that followed military rule. Backsliding on public policies, together with public statements that incite violence in conflictive areas, are seriously increasing the risks faced by human rights and environmental defenders such as Dilma Ferreira Silva. The undersigned human rights and environmental organizations express our solidarity with the family of Dilma and the Movement of Dam-Affected Peoples (MAB). Without a doubt, her assassination is a huge loss for the defense of the environment and human rights in the Amazon. We stand with the UN High Commissioner on Human Rights in demanding a complete, independent and imparcial investigation of the assassination of Dilma Ferreira Silva, as well as the exemplary punishment of those that carried out and ordered this horrendous crime. Moreover, we call on Brazilian authorities to ensure that the country’s domestic legislation and international obligations regarding the protection of human rights and environmental defenders are fully implemented, including preventative action to avoid further acts of violence. Signed,   1. 350.org 2. Aborigen-Forum 3. AMAR - Associação de Defesa do Meio Ambiente de Araucária 4. Amazon Watch 5. APREC Ecossistemas Costeiros 6. Arctic Consult 7. Articulação Antinuclear Brasileira 8. Asociación Interamericana para la Defensa del Ambiente - AIDA 9. Associação Mineira de Defesa do Ambiente – Amda 10. Association green alternative Georgia 11. Association of Journalists-Environmentalists of the Russian Union of Journalists 12. BAI Indigenous Women's Network in the Philippines 13. Bank Information Center (BIC) USA 14. Biodiversity Conservation Center 15. Both ENDS 16. Bretton Woods Project 17. Buryat Regional Association for Baikal 18. Business & Human Rights Center 19. Center for International Environmental Law - CIEL 20. CIDSE - International family of Catholic social justice organizations 21. Coalition for Human Rights in Development 22. Colegiado Mar RBMA/Reserva da Biosfera da Mata Atlântica - Grupo Conexão Abrolhos -Trindade 23. Coletivo de Mulheres do Xingu 24. Coletivo de Mulheres Negras de Altamira 25. Comisión Ecumenica de Derechos Humanos 26. Comité Ambiental en Defensa de la Vida 27. Conectas Direitos Humanos 28. Conseil Régional des Organisations Non Gouvernementales de Développement en RDC 29. Conselho Indigenista Missionário - CIMI 30. Corporación SOS Ambiental 31. Crescente Fértil 32. Derecho Ambiente y Recursos Naturales - DAR 33. Derechos Humanos y Medio Ambiente - DHUMA 34. Derechos Humanos y Medio Ambiente de Puno - Perú 35. DKA Austria 36. ECOA - Ecologia e Ação 37. Ecological Center DRONT 38. Ecolur Information NGO 39. Environmental Investigation Agency 40. Fastenopfer Switzerland 41. Focsiv - Federation of Italian Christian NGOs 42. Fórum em Defesa de Altamira 43. Foundation Sami Heritage and Development 44. Frente por uma Nova Política Energética para o Brasil 45. Front Line Defenders 46. Fundação Avina 47. Fundação Grupo ESQUEL 48. Future for Everyone 49. Global Witness 50. Green Dubna 51. Green Peace Brasil 52. ONG Guajiru 53. In Difesa Di - per i Diritti Umani e chi li difende 54. Indigenous Peoples Movement for Self-determination and Liberation (IPMSDL) 55. Instituto Igarapé 56. Instituto Terramar 57. Institutos Ethos 58. International Indigenous Fund for Development and Solidarity "Batani" dos EUA 59. International Land Coalition Secretariat 60. International Rivers 61. Katribu Kalipunan ng Katutubong Mamamayan ng Pilipinas (Katribu national alliance of indigenous peoples in the Philippines) 62. Kazan Federal University 63. Latin America Working Group 64. London Mining Network 65. Lumiere Synergie pour le Developpement 66. MAB - Movimento dos Atingidos por Barragens 67. Maryknoll Office for Global Concerns 68. MISEREOR 69. Movimento Nacional de Luta pela Moradia (MNLM) 70. Movimento Negro 71. Movimento Paulo Jackson - Ética, Justiça, Cidadania 72. Movimento Tapajós Vivo 73. Movimento Xingu Vivo para Sempre 74. Movimiento de Afectados por Represas de America Latina - MAR 75. O Movimento Nacional das Cidadãs Posithivas (MNCP) 76. Oyu Tolgoi Watch 77. Pax Christi - Comisión Solidaridad Un Mundo Alemania 78. Pax Christi Internacional 79. Pax Christi Toronto 80. Projeto Saúde e Alegria 81. Protection International 82. Public Interest law Center (PILC/CHAD) 83. Red de Comités Ambientales del Tolima 84. Red de Género y Medio Ambiente de México 85. REDE GTA 86. Resource Rights Africa da Uganda 87. Rivers without Boundaries International Coalition 88. Rivers without Boundaries - Mongolia 89. SAPÊ - Sociedade Agrense de Proteção Ecológica 90. SCIAF - Scottish Catholic International Aid Fund 91. Serpaj Chile 92. Siberian Environmental Organization 93. Socio-ecological Union International 94. Tatarstan Organization of the All-Russian Society for the Conservation of Nature 95. Terra 1530 96. The Canadian Catholic Organization for Development and Peace/Caritas 97. The Society for Threatened Peoples International STPI - Gesellschaft für bedrohte Völker-International, GfbV-International 98. The Volunteer Movement Save Utrish 99. Toxisphera - Associação de Saúde Ambiental 100. Tutela Legal Maria Julia Hernández 101. Uma Gota no Oceano 102. Uniafro Brasil 103. Washington Office on Latin America - Wola 104. WoMin African Alliance 105. World Wide Fund for Nature – WWF/Brasil  

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Capacity Building, Indigenous Rights, Human Rights

How supporting women is linked to environmental justice

Although women lead struggles for the conservation of nature around the world, they are often excluded from decisions about the use of land, water and other natural resources. They’re disproportionately affected when inadequately implemented projects pollute air and water, or cause forced displacements and other damages. And they’re often more seriously impacted by climate change. In all of these cases, women—particularly indigenous women—are highly vulnerable to losing their way of life, their income, and their homes. At AIDA, we incorporate a gender perspective into our defense of the environment and human rights, recognizing that combating inequalities and differentiated harms is fundamental to achieving environmental justice in Latin America. “The gender approach allows us to defend the rights of women in an integral way, understanding that the risks and harms, as well as the policies needed to confront them, are different for men and women,” explained Senior Attorney Liliana Ávila. “Making this visible helps break through discrimination scenarios and effectively guarantee the right to equality.” Uplifting women’s voices Working with a gender focus, Liliana explained, has been a fascinating professional experience that has allowed her to understand how environmental damage affects men and women differently. She has listened to women explain how they view their territory, and what happens to it, distinctly from the men in their communities.   In Northwest Guatemala, in the micro-region of Ixquisis, the construction of the Pojom II and San Andrés dams has damaged water sources. It has spread diseases and harmed fishing and agriculture, subsistence activities for local communities, largely made up of indigenous Mayan women. “It’s necessary to promote methodologies and spaces that make women’s voices heard, that enable and strengthen their participation, that demonstrate the differentiated harms they face, and that promote change to guarantee their rights,” Liliana said. AIDA legally supports the resistance of the women of Ixquisis to the dam projects, both in national courts and before the Inter-American Development Bank, which finances the projects despite obvious conflict with its operating policies. Our work in Guatemala is possible thanks to the Global Alliance for Green and Gender Action (GAGGA), which supports collaboration between movements and grassroots organizations to strengthen their role in the defense and promotion of women's rights and environmental justice. Since 2016, GAGGA has provided funds to women's movements and environmental organizations at the national, regional and global levels in more than 30 countries across Latin America, Africa, Asia and Europe. Women’s role in environmental defense By working hand in hand with communities across Latin America, AIDA attorneys have a close knowledge of the fundamental role that women play in protecting the environment and building equitable societies. “In Nayarit, Mexico indigenous women are playing a key role in defense of their land, water and the San Pedro Mezquital River,” said Camilo Thompson, AIDA attorney in Mexico. “And in the Gulf of California, women are leading efforts toward proper fisheries management.” Claudia Velarde, an AIDA attorney in Bolivia, says that her country has recognized that peasant women produce more food, so their experiences, visions, and knowledge must be incorporated into public food policies. “Personally, it has been very enriching for me to work both with and from the perspective of women,” she explained. “I’ve have had the opportunity to meet incredible women fighting to defend their territories from extractive activities like fracking. It’s helped me understand that the impacts of a single activity are experienced quite differently according to socially assigned gender roles.”   

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Indigenous Rights, Mining, Toxic Pollution

Mining Arc threatens majestic lands of Southern Venezuela

For decades, one of the greatest socio-ecological tragedies in Latin America has been developing in Venezuela. Small-scale gold mining is inflicting irreversible damage to one of the continent’s most biodiverse natural areas. It’s happening South of the Orinoco River, amidst majestic waterfalls, impressive mesas, and long-established indigenous communities. Despite its major impacts on the states of Amazonas and Bolívar, mining there has advanced rather silently. Up until a few years ago, not many researchers were even paying attention. The situation changed in 2011, when then-President Hugo Chavez announced the creation of the Orinoco Mining Arc National Strategic Development Zone, a project finalized five years later through a presidential decree. Photo: Bram Ebus / Infoamazonía.   Mining’s large-scale damages The Orinoco Mining Arc involves permitting undefined mining activities in 111,843 square kilometers of territory—an area larger than Guatemala and almost twice the size of the Orinoco Oil Belt. Its implementation has legitimized and exacerbated the damages of small-scale mining, chief among them water pollution, deforestation and the destruction of fertile soils. The project also aims to develop large-scale mining in this mega-diverse region. Now, independent researchers like Carlos Eduardo Pacheco and others, hailing from organizations such as the Venezuelan Society of Ecology and Provita, warn of the huge damages that may occur due to the nation’s lack of environmental regulation. Thanks to their studies, additional research, and an analysis of satellite images, we know that: in the area around the Mining Arc there exist at least five or six large pockets of deforestation, and hundreds of smaller ones; the Caroní and Ikabarú river basins are being destroyed; and damages have reached Caura and Canaima National Parks, as well as the territories of the Pemón, Yekuana, Akawayo and Yanomami indigenous people, among others. The consequences, the researchers warn, are not only ecological; they are social as well. There has been a mass exodus from major cities, people fleeing poverty and heading to the Mining Arc to seek economic opportunity. Photo: Bram Ebus / Infoamazonía.   In addition, mining activity has lead to multiple reports of human trafficking, prostitution, drug trafficking, extortion, murder, and the presence of both paramilitary groups and guerillas from Colombia. Many of the mining projects in the zone are under the control of a mafia known as “Pranato Minero,” whose leaders are relatively unknown. Increased mining has also caused serious harms to the health of informal miners and their families due to the use of mercury. Statistics from the Ministry of People’s Power for Health demonstrate a strong increase in mortality—at least 500 percent between 2002 and 2013 in municipalities close to the Arc, including Sifontes, El Callao, Cedeño and Roscio. And large-scale transnational mining hasn’t been left out of the picture. Even Canadian companies that recently sued Venezuela for controversies related to their investments have returned as partners in the mining exploitation of Orinoco. Raising awareness of Orinoco In all this development, where is the social and environmental responsibility? There seems to be no place for accountability in Venezuela, a nation with non-existent institutions and inapplicable laws. We must to ask what we can do, as members of civil society, in the face of this latest chronicle of deforestation, mercury contamination, and outright destruction of the natural world of Southern Venezuela. At AIDA, we’re doing what we can by providing technical and scientific support to the Venezuelan organizations studying the Mining Arc’s development. By supporting them, we’re working to raise awareness of the issue and put one of the most serious social and environmental attacks in the region in the public eye.    

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