Indigenous Rights

Fact Sheet: Mayan women in defense of their rivers

   Download the fact sheet 

Why are women so important to the pursuit of environmental justice?

Women have long played a fundamental role in the conservation and defense of the planet. Past and present struggles for environmental justice and the defense of animals have been, to a large extent, led by women. Yet the close relationship between women and the environment has not escaped the inequalities that characterize today’s societies.  Poverty, exclusion, and inequality are intertwined with environmental degradation and the climate crisis. Women, in general, suffer these plagues in a differential and aggravated manner. In natural disasters, for example, women often experience higher mortality rates than men.  Due to the role women play in their communities, they are often less equipped with mechanisms to help them respond to emergencies that result from disasters. They are less likely to know how to swim or climb trees. They are more likely to be responsible for young children or older members of the family. They are more likely to wear clothing that makes it difficult to quickly react to a crisis situation. Furthermore, for historical and cultural reasons, women are less likely to have access to information or be able to participate in situations that affect their right to a healthy environment. They also are less likely to have access to the mechanisms for addressing injustices or repairing damages from catastrophes. Women who do take on roles in the public sphere, participating in public issues, are more likely to take on additional responsibilities that, generally, a man in the same situation would not have to assume.  And, at the same time, they confront more intense risks and greater obstacles to the development of their leadership.  In this context, the gender focus—defined as the mechanism developed to guarantee holistically valuing the impact any action has on men, women, and those who identify between those categories—is fundamental to making asymmetries visible, overcoming barriers of discrimination, and removing scenarios of exclusion that impede women’s ability to enjoy their right to equality.  The gender focus seeks to ensure that those challenges are included in the design, implementation, monitoring, and evaluation of each intervention on a political, economic, and social level. The gender perspective is indispensable to empowering the leadership of women, which is proving increasingly vital in the struggle for environmental justice. In effect, the development of ecofeminist theories offers the world new and transformative alternatives to the ways of thinking that are bringing about the destruction of our environment and negatively affecting the lives of men, women, and other living things.  Women are more than simply the most affected by the climate crisis. They also are active participants with a vital role to play in preserving nature and seeking solutions for the health of our planet.  

Preserving the legacy of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Heart of the World

AIDA Statement on the Situation in Ecuador

The Interamerican Association for Environmental Defense (AIDA) recognizes the positive steps made in Ecuador through the United Nations-mediated dialogue between the government and the indigenous movement.  The mediation follows weeks of conflict stemming from the government’s elimination of diesel and gas subsidies through decree 883. In a context of global climate emergency, it is necessary to eliminate subsidies for fossil fuels and any other market distortion that promotes their continued exploitation and use. However, no measure will be successful if it is not done with full awareness of the impacts it implies for the most vulnerable segments of the population, directly affected by increased prices of transportation and consumer goods. The energy transition must be progressive and respectful of human rights. Only in this way will we be able to move towards true climate justice. Measures such as those adopted in Ecuador must also be framed within proper planning, aimed at moving towards a low-carbon economy, as well as reducing dependence on oil, large-scale mining and other sectors that contribute to the climate crisis. AIDA commends the commitment of the government and the indigenous movement to developing a new decree in a joint and participatory manner. The recent conflict demonstrates the need to strengthen a plurinational and multicultural State, where decisions are discussed and agreed upon with indigenous peoples and all national actors. Ecuador now has the opportunity to set a key precedent at the global level by designing comprehensive policies that support the fulfillment of its climate commitments and at the same time respect and protect its people, especially vulnerable groups. We hope that the dialogue will be successful and will serve as an example of the collective construction of climate solutions to ensure participation, respect for human rights, gender equity and, in short, the well-being of present and future generations. press contact: Victor Quintanilla (Mexico), [email protected], +5215570522107  

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.  

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.  

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  

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.   

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  

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.”