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COP31: The urgency of key discussions and conditions for accelerating global transformation
By Florencia Ortúzar Greene and Karla Maass* Against a backdrop of growing political fragmentation, geopolitical conflicts, and weakening international cooperation, the 31st UN Climate Change Conference (COP31)—to be held November 9–20, 2026, in Antalya, Turkey—represents an opportunity to strengthen multilateralism and collectively advance toward structural transformations based on justice, human rights, and the protection of ecosystems.In Latin America and the Caribbean, the context surrounding COP31 is characterized by the expansion of extractivism, the weakening of environmental institutions, and growing risks related to control over natural resources. Socio-environmental conflicts and threats to environmental defenders add to this. At the same time, dependence on fossil fuels continues to expose countries to geopolitical tensions, energy-market volatility, and risks to their economies and the security of their populations.Given this situation, COP31 must help rebuild trust in multilateralism through decisions that can accelerate climate action, overcome barriers to its implementation, and address the needs of countries in the Global South.At AIDA, we have identified four key processes for moving in this direction. Check Out Our Proposals. 1. Implementing a just transition mechanismOne of the main challenges at COP31 will be defining how to implement the Belém Action Mechanism (BAM), agreed upon at COP30. Its transformative potential will depend on whether it moves beyond dialogue forums and, therefore, establishes inclusive multi-stakeholder governance focused on overcoming the structural inequalities that shape the transition, especially in the Global South.AIDA proposes:Governance: Ensuring the effective representation of rights holders in the mechanism’s governance bodies and technical forums. This should be achieved through a system modeled on the public representation provisions of the Escazú Agreement, ensuring the formal and ongoing participation of representatives from each stakeholder group recognized in the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC).Working methods: Establishing an ongoing process for collecting, organizing, and analyzing information that allows for the incorporation of the best available scientific evidence and the results of other international processes to guide the mechanism’s priorities and actions. We also propose coordinating with the Standing Committee on Finance to include a specific analysis of the resources allocated to a just transition in the first biennial monitoring report on the new quantified collective goal (NCQG) for climate finance, scheduled for 2028.Functions: Promoting a just energy transition that accelerates the phase-out of fossil fuels through exploitation-free zones—conceived as territories for life—and strengthening renewable and community-based energy alternatives. We also propose establishing socio-environmental safeguards for the extraction of “critical” minerals, based on human rights, ecosystem integrity, and strict criteria of necessity, traceability, and responsible use, to prevent the energy transition from reproducing new forms of extractivism. 2. Moving from funding promises to concrete actionsClimate finance remains a major point of contention in international negotiations. COP31 must make progress on implementing the Work Program on Climate Finance, placing developed countries' obligations to provide resources to developing countries at the center, in accordance with Article 9.1 of the Paris Agreement.AIDA proposes:Scope: Ensure the program contributes to implementing the NCQG, particularly the target of at least $300 billion annually by 2035, through a roadmap that strengthens public financing by developed countries. Furthermore, we consider it essential to establish a specific mandate to assess the projected public financing needed to meet this target, drawing on the communications and processes established under Article 9.5 of the Paris Agreement, and to formulate recommendations and concrete measures for COP32.Working methods: Promoting innovative spaces for technical and political exchange that go beyond traditional dialogues and help identify solutions to structural barriers such as indebtedness, the high cost of capital, and difficulties in direct access to financing for indigenous peoples and local communities. We also propose strengthening coordination with the Diálogo de Veredas to build on its findings on reorienting international financial flows, without replacing developed countries' funding obligations. 3. A Global Stocktake to identify necessary changesCOP31 will mark the start of the second Global Stocktake (GST2) under the Paris Agreement. This process will assess collective progress on climate action and help guide international decisions in the coming years.AIDA proposes:Establishing specific measures to facilitate the collection and systematization of information from traditionally underrepresented stakeholders, particularly indigenous peoples and local communities, and providing the support needed to ensure their knowledge, experiences, and territorial solutions contribute to a more representative assessment.Establishing an open and inclusive feedback mechanism for the summary reports resulting from the information-gathering phase. This mechanism should allow for the submission of comments, the identification of information gaps, and an understanding of how the contributions received are incorporated.Ensuring that GST2 is grounded in the best available science, including the timely incorporation of the findings of the IPCC’s Seventh Assessment Report (AR7), and uses the commitments from the first Global Stocktake as a starting point for assessing their implementation, ensuring that climate justice, human rights, and ecosystem integrity are cross-cutting themes. 4. Accelerating the transition away from fossil fuelsNearly three years after the commitment made at COP28 in Dubai, its implementation continues to face significant obstacles, while plans to expand fossil fuel production persist. COP31 represents an opportunity to break this deadlock and build on international initiatives aimed at accelerating a just, orderly, and equitable transition.To this end, explicit political support from the COP31 presidencies for the roadmap promoted by the Brazilian presidency of COP30 and for the process launched at the First International Conference on the Transition Beyond Fossil Fuels (Santa Marta) will be key, thereby strengthening their recognition and relevance on the international climate agenda.AIDA proposes:Formalizing and ensuring the institutional continuity of the Brazilian roadmap by incorporating it into the Antalya Political Package, and incorporating the results of both processes into the second Global Stocktake (GST2) to assess progress and gaps in implementing the commitment to phase out fossil fuels.We emphasize the need for the 35x35 electrification commitment to contribute effectively to reducing dependence on fossil fuels by promoting renewable energy, decentralized systems, and democratic, community-based governance models, with socio-environmental safeguards and an equitable distribution of benefits. Check Out Our Proposals.A COP31 focused on climate justiceThe climate crisis demands much more than new commitments. It requires transforming development models, international economic relations, and the cooperation and financing mechanisms that determine the actual scope for action by countries and their territories.COP31 offers an opportunity to move in that direction. Its significance will depend on governments' ability to make concrete decisions, strengthen international cooperation, and ensure that the necessary transformations are carried out with the effective participation of those who inhabit, defend, and protect these territories.In our proposals for COP31, we make specific recommendations for the four negotiation processes to contribute to climate action that is more ambitious, equitable, and centered on human rights and ecosystem integrity. Check Out Our Proposals. *Florencia Ortúzar Greene is the director of AIDA's Climate Program, and Karla Maass is an external consultant for the organization.
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A journey through Chilean Patagonia: Living on and caring for the edge of the world
In Chilean Patagonia, at the southwestern tip of the American continent, the land breaks up into peninsulas, isthmuses, and islands surrounded by fjords and channels, forming hundreds of labyrinths.It bridges the sea and the land, a fragile yet vital network of ecosystems, with areas that remain pristine and life flourishing in every corner.To experience Patagonia is to inhabit a "maritorio," a worldview that sees "territory" from and within the sea. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. It is to be surrounded by mountains that fade into the water, by glaciers that release small, silvery streams you can glimpse in the distance through the mist.It means exploring one of the planet's most pristine areas, a refuge for rich marine biodiversity. It means sharing the environment with a variety of cetaceans, including the great blue whale, fin whale, and sei whale; Chilean, common, and bottlenose dolphins; sea lions and elephant seals; and colonies of Magellanic, Humboldt, and other penguins.You walk through southern forests filled with lenga trees—native trees with deep roots and slender trunks—up to 400 or 500 years old and reaching over 30 meters. You feel the wind's constant presence on your face as it whistles through the waterways, shapes the foliage, and steers the ships. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. A "maritorio" as identityThe first Spanish settlers arrived in this region around 1520. Beginning in the late 18th century, European and North American sealers and whalers traveled through the Strait of Magellan but did not settle there permanently.In 1843, Chile took control of the region by founding Fort Bulnes. However, indigenous peoples, including the Kawésqar, already lived there. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. The Kawésqar sailed Chilean Patagonia's waters for thousands of years. They lived off the sea and traveled in canoes that served as their daily homes. As they sailed, they hunted for food (fish, shellfish, or sea lions), cooked over open fires, and attended births. They could read the wind and the tides as if they were their own language. The sea was not merely a resource; it was an extension of themselves, their memory, and their identity.But their relationship with the sea was violently disrupted. Seal hunters, whalers, traders, and settlers decimated the Kawésqar population by spreading diseases such as measles, tuberculosis, and smallpox. Their way of life was also disrupted: staple foods began to run short because of the indiscriminate hunting of sea lions and otters.The Kawésqar were forced to give up their nomadic lifestyle, change their clothing, and speak Spanish. Some families were relocated to missions, where they were exposed to disease and forced to live in closed communities and change their customs.The descendants of that population lost touch with their roots to escape the consequences of systematic persecution. The genocide of "the elders" is not a distant story: the older descendants heard about it directly from their grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, and fathers, who endured that violence and managed to survive. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. Returning to the sea: A way to resist current threatsThe ecosystems of Chilean Patagonia and the indigenous communities that live there have been facing a new threat for years: the expansion of industrial salmon farming. Research shows that between 2009 and 2023, the number of salmon farming concessions granted rose from 1,108 to 1,380—nearly 25%—in the Los Lagos, Aysén, and Magallanes regions. Another 157 applications for new concessions are currently pending.Fattening pens are scattered throughout the marine area, extending into remote parts of the Southern Ocean, even within protected areas. Accumulated waste (including feces and uneaten feed) creates oxygen-depleted zones. In addition, cetaceans have been killed or injured by collisions with vessels, most of which serve the salmon farming industry.Salmon farms are restricting the Kawésqar people’s freedom of movement: They can’t even travel through their own waters!The waterways were their home and their main source of food. Today, few Kawésqar families make their living from fishing. According to community members, they must spend more and more hours on the water to catch as much fish as before. Under these conditions, many people see salmon farming as one of their few job options. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. The Kawésqar people’s connection to the sea—the foundation of their lives and culture—has suffered from a history of dispossession that has not ended, but has merely taken on a different form. The violence of colonization has now become the violence of boundless industrial growth.In light of this situation, the Kawésqar community "Grupos Familiares Nómades del Mar" is leading a project focused on diving and reconnecting with the sea. It seeks to restore the direct bond with the waters their ancestors navigated—a bond that salmon farming is putting at risk.The initiative primarily targets children. But as the diving classes progressed, moms, dads, and older community members were encouraged to enter the water. Some of them had been afraid of those waters, but now they dive into them as naturally as their ancestors would have.It is an act of memory and resistance: to look once more beneath the sea's surface where they were born and to restore to the new generations of Kawésqar a living connection to their maritime heritage—one that is not merely recounted, but felt. Photo: Fernanda Núñez Espinosa. Chilean Patagonia is not just a breathtaking landscape.It is a living space where Kawésqar communities—with support from AIDA, Greenpeace, and FIMA—continue to fight to halt the expansion of salmon farming and the damage it causes, so the sea remains theirs.
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Groundwater: The importance of what we can’t see
Did you know that beneath the ground we walk on lies the planet’s most abundant source of fresh water?These are aquifers, underground geological formations that store 99% of the world’s liquid fresh water.That groundwater provides nearly half of the world’s drinking water; it is the sole source of drinking water for one-third of the world’s population (about 2.5 billion people); and it accounts for 43% of the water used for irrigation.Therefore, keeping this resource accessible and high-quality is essential to the lives, health, and food security of millions of people.Despite their importance, aquifers face risks from extractive activities. One such activity is exploiting unconventional oil and gas deposits through fracking, or hydraulic fracturing, a technique that can lead to groundwater contamination. Key aquifers at risk: The case of BrazilSome of the world’s most important aquifers are located in Latin America, primarily within Brazil. They include:The Guaraní Aquifer System, a transboundary aquifer shared by Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay. It supplies water to about 90 million people, meeting domestic, agricultural, industrial, and tourism needs across more than 1 million km².The Greater Amazon Aquifer System, which spans several Brazilian states and adjacent areas of the Amazon basin in neighboring countries, is one of the world's largest underground water reservoirs and accounts for more than 80% of the water circulating in the Amazon cycle. These strategic water reserves are currently at risk because fracking activities in Brazil could overlap with both aquifers, according to maps. The future of fracking in Brazil—and waterBrazil’s Superior Court of Justice is currently deciding whether to authorize fracking in the country to extract unconventional oil and gas.The technique involves drilling a straight well deep into the ground and then turning the drill to create an L-shaped well. Workers inject a mixture of water, sand, and chemical additives (some of which are toxic) into the well at very high pressure to fracture underground rocks and extract the hydrocarbons they contain.Fracking could contaminate the Guaraní and Greater Amazon aquifers if the toxic chemicals used to fracture the rocks seep through well leaks or surface spills. For this reason, and because of its high water consumption, the technique may jeopardize the water security of populations that rely on these groundwater sources, including indigenous communities and peoples in voluntary isolation.Because water from aquifers isn't just for drinking. It also irrigates crops, keeps rivers flowing, and sustains unique ecosystems.Even though we can't see them, aquifers hold a treasure that is vital to humanity.Protecting them means protecting life.
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A victory for climate justice: Colombia includes climate obligations in environmental impact studies
In Colombia, a case that began as a requirement for the coal sector ultimately became a regulation applicable to all projects requiring an environmental permit.This refers to the publication of the General Methodology for the Preparation and Submission of Environmental Studies, a regulatory "master key" that requires quantifying greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and including climate mitigation and adaptation measures in mining, hydrocarbon, energy, and infrastructure projects, among others.Colombia's Ministry of Environment and Sustainable Development published this methodology in late July 2026, in compliance with a 2023 ruling by the Council of State.This important resolution was the result of a compliance action filed by a coalition led by AIDA and also comprising the "José Alvear Restrepo" Lawyers’ Collective (CAJAR), Censat Agua Viva, the Center for Research and Popular Education (CINEP), POLEN Transiciones Justas, the University of Magdalena, and researchers.The new methodology for environmental studies represents a major step forward in protecting the right to a healthy environment and ensuring the right to a healthy climate through preventive measures.It also marks a victory for climate litigation in the region, demonstrating that the Colombian government failed to fulfill specific climate commitments and securing a ruling ordering one of the competent authorities to take concrete actions for proper climate management.Other countries in the region may replicate the strategy employed and the precedent set. A three-year path toward climate justiceIn May 2023, AIDA led a coalition of civil society organizations, think tanks, researchers, and a university that filed a compliance action with the Administrative Court of Cundinamarca. The goal was to demand compliance with laws related to addressing the climate crisis in the coal sector.In Colombia, neither environmental regulations nor climate change management regulations address GHG mitigation or the climate impacts generated by the coal sector, despite the significance of coal projects in the country and their role in exacerbating the climate crisis.Colombia is by a wide margin the largest coal producer and exporter in Latin America. In 2024, it accounted for 87.67% of regional production and 99.84% of exports, playing a significant role in its trade balance and its rail and port infrastructure. Furthermore, it ranks third in the region in terms of final consumption (24.52%), and in the last 12 months, nearly 5% of the country’s electricity was generated from coal.But without specific regulations, environmental authorities lack the tools to establish effective measures to prevent, mitigate, and manage the climate impacts of coal industry activity.The Administrative Court of Cundinamarca ruled in the coalition's favor in the first instance. The Council of State—the country’s highest authority on administrative matters—upheld the ruling on second instance. Consequently, it ordered the Ministry of Environment and Sustainable Development to comply with the obligations outlined in Law 1931 of 2018, which establishes the minimum actions the country must take to honor its international climate commitments.And this is where the case went beyond its initial objective: the ruling established a specific obligation for the ministry to regulate the consideration of climate impacts not only in coal sector projects but in all projects requiring an environmental permit. In other words, it includes the mining, hydrocarbons, energy, and infrastructure sectors, among others.This entails, among other things, quantifying GHG emissions from these projects and assessing how environmental offset measures can help Colombia meet its climate commitments under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change.The ruling also ordered the government agency to issue a resolution adopting the Mandatory Emissions Report, which would require major greenhouse gas emitters to report their total emissions annually on a disaggregated basis. Similarly, it ordered the agency to issue the environmental sector’s climate change management plan and coordinate actions with territorial climate change plans. A significant and reproducible rulingThe Ministry of the Environment’s publication of the methodology for environmental studies marks a milestone in environmental permitting by incorporating specific procedures to ensure environmental impact studies account for the climate impacts generated by projects seeking permits.It also focuses on environmental permitting and human rights, considers indirect emissions, and introduces new guidelines for assessing projects' environmental impacts.In addition, it sets a regulatory precedent that demonstrates, in practice, the climate unfeasibility of new coal mining and burning projects.In short, it is a regulatory instrument that seeks to close gaps in environmental permitting processes and strengthen the assessment of shortcomings associated with the climate impacts of certain projects, particularly in the coal sector. It incorporates a human rights perspective—a first within an environmental permitting process.Its scope is ambitious: stricter technical and climate management requirements would raise the compliance costs of coal-fired projects—making them more expensive than cleaner alternatives—and could support strategies to phase out coal as part of the country’s efforts to meet its climate obligations.The orders contained in the Council of State’s ruling do not end with the publication of the methodology. Other orders also seek to incorporate specific guidelines for climate change management.Among these is the Mandatory Emissions Report, a key tool for establishing processes to monitor, verify, and control the mitigation actions implemented by major greenhouse gas emitters. However, the ministry has published only a draft resolution adopting this instrument, which, if confirmed, would represent a unique regulatory advancement in the region with strong potential for replication.In other words, the Council of State’s ruling sets a very important precedent for the region for two reasons: it demonstrates that strategic litigation can lead to concrete regulatory actions to address the climate crisis, and it highlights the need to update regulatory frameworks to incorporate specific measures for climate change mitigation and adaptation in specific sectors and procedures.Therefore, it will be important to design strategies that allow both the litigation approach and the results achieved during implementation to be replicated in other countries in the region.
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Tailings dams: Insights from science to address their risks
Mining begins by removing vegetation and topsoil. Next, miners excavate to extract metals and minerals from the subsoil. This process generates a large amount of waste or tailings: 200 kilograms of waste for every kilogram of economically valuable material in a high-efficiency mine.This waste is a mixture of rock debris, water, and chemical compounds used in mining operations. But where does this waste end up?They end up in tailings dams, permanent storage sites for mining waste located in the same areas where mining operations take place.Despite being critical infrastructure—since their failure or collapse can seriously harm the environment and people—prior, transparent discussion regarding tailings dams and their risks is rare among authorities, mining companies, and affected communities.To address this gap, on July 22 and 23, AIDA—in partnership with the Universidad Técnica Particular de Loja (UTPL) and the Find an Expert in Mining (FAIME) project—organized an inclusive event in the city of Loja, Ecuador, featuring academic dialogue and scientific outreach on the management of risks associated with tailings dams.The event brought together people from different regions and technical experts from Latin America for a diverse dialogue on managing mining waste.This initiative is part of our efforts to promote science—including traditional knowledge—as a fundamental and accessible tool for defending territories and everyone’s right to a healthy environment.Below, we share key information and insights from the event on tailings dams and the risks associated with them. Concerns and uncertainties surrounding tailings damsAll crushed, chemically processed rock—from which valuable metals and minerals have been extracted, as well as rock with no economic value to the industry—remains in the area in tailings dams.During mine operations, after mine closure, and in perpetuity, mining companies must ensure that these infrastructure systems completely isolate waste from the environment. Exposure to this mixture of mining waste has significant socio-environmental impacts. This raises concerns and questions that are rarely discussed, including:The dam's dimensions: How many metric tons of waste will be stored? Location: Where will this waste be allowed to be stored indefinitely?Isolation: How can we ensure that rocks containing toxic substances and heavy metals do not affect the soil, water sources, biodiversity, and people?Safety: How can we ensure infrastructure does not endanger people's lives or the environment they depend on? The event highlighted that science, as a tool for territorial protection, makes it possible to identify the threats posed by tailings dams, describe them, and delve deeper into the specific risks that must be managed in each territory.This is because those who have—or may potentially have—these so-called environmental "liabilities" in perpetuity where there was once a road, a forest, or a river face many unanswered questions that must be addressed.Even for experts in related technical fields, tailings dams are challenging structures. Those who work closely with this issue can confirm that complete or freely available data is not always available to monitor these structures throughout their entire life cycle. Several factors help us understand, for each specific project, aspects related to the design, construction, operation, monitoring, closure, and post-closure of tailings dams, as well as the effects of climate change and their resilience.In most projects, this information is confidential and may be reviewed only by mining companies and government regulatory agencies. Challenging the usual narrativesGovernments and companies often claim that they apply the highest standards at every stage of mining operations, but say little or nothing about the risks that mining waste poses to the environment and people.Unfortunately, many generations have suffered disasters caused by the collapse of these dams:2019: Brumadinho, Minas Gerais, Brazil.2014: Mount Polley, British Columbia, Canada.2010: Las Palmas, Maule, Chile.2010: Huachocolpa, Huancavelica, Peru.1965: El Cobre, Valparaíso, Chile. These disasters were not foreseen despite monitoring efforts, nor were they prevented. While they may seem distant, the surrounding communities bear the brunt of the human losses and environmental damage. In addition to these well-known catastrophes, these structures collapse every year around the world. A chronology of major tailings dam failures dating back to 1960 is available on the Wise Uranium website. A diverse and fruitful academic dialogueDiscussing the risks associated with tailings dams was key to understanding the concerns of those who already live near these structures. It was also important to recognize that with every new metal mining project, new communities will be forced to coexist with these tailings ponds. Regardless of where they are or may be located, understanding and managing these risks is essential.The event in Ecuador showed us that dams exist in many forms, both on and off the continent (in Canada, Chile, Brazil, Ecuador, and Peru). It helped us learn more about standards, community-based monitoring systems, restoration efforts, and demands around the risks involved.In working groups made up of experts—both technical specialists and members of the public—we shared knowledge, experiences, questions, and a few answers. We built alliances to continue spreading information and building a community that we hope will grow.One of the most striking discussions centered on tolerable risk. Even when we know the risks and manage them, they remain. How much risk can we tolerate, and are we willing to? The answers vary depending on whether they come from industry or certain governments. But if we focus on the populations at risk, the answer is NONE. Of course. Who among us, in the name of development and the energy transition, would leave their home right now to live next to a tailings dam? Using science to renew hope and bridge gapsWe heard stories from communities where water quality has been affected by metal mining projects. In these cases, for example, using science as a tool for territorial defense means maintaining a timeline of water quality parameters—monitored by the community—to show companies and authorities that water quality has changed and to demand immediate action. It is also reflected in directly affected communities that propose specific studies and monitoring initiatives for their territories, carry them out, and use the results to strengthen decision-making and legal action.However, for many communities, developing scientific studies tailored to their realities remains a pipe dream. Funding gaps and a lack of technical tools limit communities’ ability to use the best available science to defend their territories and livelihoods. That is why AIDA and FAIME seek to connect consultants and technical teams with communities and the organizations that support them, to help ensure that the best available science is no longer a privilege. Thank youWe at AIDA would like to thank the experts and representatives from various communities in the region for their participation in this academic dialogue. We will continue to foster these opportunities and find ways to ensure that communities affected by mining can use science as a useful and effective tool to defend their rights.
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Páramos = water = life
Páramos are high-mountain ecosystems that capture water from fog and supply it to the lowlands. They lie between the upper limit of the Andean forest (about 3,000 meters above sea level) and the glaciers or permanent snowfields of the mountains (about 4,500 meters above sea level).Typically, páramos can be found in tropical regions near the equator, especially along the Andes mountain range.In Latin America, páramos cover more than 30,000 km2. South America is home to more than 80% of the world’s páramos, and Colombia accounts for 50% of them.The páramos are not isolated; rather, they form a high-mountain system that maintains ecological connections with other biomes and ecosystems, extending beyond national borders. In the Andean region, they form a corridor known as the "string of pearls," stretching from the Cordillera de Mérida in Venezuela, across Colombia and Ecuador, to the Huancabamba Depression in northern Peru.There, the water retained by low-altitude wetlands gradually flows downward, forming streams and rivers that flow down to the coast or the Amazon basin.Because of their interconnectedness, the páramos also serve as natural bridges or "springboards" for the migration and dispersal of species. Their conservation, therefore, cannot be limited to specific areas; it must extend to protecting the ecological, biological, and cultural relationships they share with other ecosystems. The importance of protecting the páramosWe must protect the páramos because they are essential to sustaining life. Among other reasons, this is because:They feed key watersheds, which in turn support agricultural and livestock systems that contribute to the population's food supply. They are the primary source of water for more than 85 million people. In Colombia, these ecosystems supply 70% of the freshwater consumed in major cities.They are home to a unique biodiversity: more than 3,370 plant species and 250 animal species. Among the endemic species found there are the frailejón (a plant with hairy leaves that trap moisture from the fog and regulate water), the Andean condor, the mountain tapir (or Andean tapir), and the spectacled bear.They serve as living spaces and homes for rural and indigenous communities. According to the 2018 páramo census, more than 76,000 people in Colombia live in the country’s páramo ecosystems. Furthermore, their stunning natural beauty drives nature tourism, thereby sustaining local ways of life.They are extraordinary natural carbon sinks and are indispensable allies in mitigating the climate crisis. They can sequester up to ten times more carbon dioxide per square meter than a tropical forest. In specific areas of a páramo, such as peat bogs, carbon sequestration can reach 2,000 metric tons. Photo: Aztlec Flickr (Creative Commons).What threats must we protect the páramos from?Despite their great importance, the páramos currently face several threats. One is the climate crisis, which is raising ambient temperatures; because these ecosystems are located high in the mountains, they have no cooler thermal zones to migrate to.On the other hand, extensive livestock ranching and agriculture—particularly potato farming—affect considerable areas of páramos. Deforestation or reforestation with non-native species also endangers them, as does a lack of knowledge about their importance and characteristics.And mining is undoubtedly one of the greatest threats to these ecosystems. Due to their geological formation, these ecosystems contain large quantities of minerals and metals, such as gold and silver. The mining industry poses serious risks to the páramos because:It extracts large volumes of water and builds infrastructure on wetlands, reducing their ability to regulate water flows, and can cause pollution from mercury and other toxic substances, leading to species loss and affecting water quality and availability in low-lying areas.Underground mining can alter groundwater flow dynamics through dewatering processes designed to prevent tunnel collapse. This can lower the water table, cause land subsidence, and dry up water sources, among other impacts.It removes vegetation cover and organic soil, degrading fragile ecosystems such as the páramos, weakening their role as natural carbon sinks, and releasing stored carbon.Its impacts can last in perpetuity—for centuries or millennia—timeframes that cannot be predicted with certainty. Tailings dams and other infrastructure (tailings piles or dumps) where mining waste ends up, for example, have effects that persist indefinitely because they were not designed to be dismantled. Learn more about the true cost of mining in the páramos. The iconic case of the Santurbán páramo in ColombiaThe Santurbán case reflects the socio-environmental conflicts that arise from corporate efforts to establish mining operations in páramos, as well as from citizens’ efforts to protect these ecosystems and the life they sustain. Photo: Alberto Peña Kay. Located in the heart of the Eastern Cordillera of the Colombian Andes, in the departments of Santander and Norte de Santander, the Santurbán páramo covers 129,743 hectares and is home to 57 lagoons, 457 plant species, and 293 vertebrate species.Santurbán is home to mineral deposits—primarily gold, but also silver and copper—that have attracted foreign mining conglomerates for decades, which have sought to establish large-scale projects in the ecosystem, threatening to degrade it.This has raised concerns among the population that relies on the Santurbán water sources—more than two million people—who have mobilized to defend water, their land, and life.The Committee for the Defense of Water and the Santurbán Páramo has led these efforts. This coalition of environmental advocates, supported by AIDA and other civil society organizations, has thwarted the mining industry’s ongoing attempts. The defense of Santurbán has included litigation and national and international advocacy. Learn more about the effort to protect the Santurbán páramo. Protecting Latin America's páramosAs with Santurbán in Colombia, indigenous peoples, rural communities, and citizens in other countries in the region are using legal strategies to protect the Andean páramos.Also in Colombia, rural communities in Cajamarca, in the department of Tolima, succeeded in rejecting the La Colosa mining project—which would have involved gold mining in the Los Nevados páramo region—through a public referendum. They are currently defending the referendum's validity and the páramo demarcation in court.In Ecuador, the Kichwa Saraguro indigenous people are pursuing legal action to protect more than 27,000 hectares of the Fierro Urku páramo, which were granted as mining concessions for gold, silver, and copper without prior consultation. At the same time, they are demanding compliance with a protective order that suspended the Loma Larga mining project in the Quimsacocha páramo until prior consultation is guaranteed and environmental impact studies are conducted.In partnership with communities and allied organizations, AIDA works to protect the páramos and other ecosystems that sustain life in Latin America.
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Self-generation: How to democratize access to energy
In the traditional and dominant model, electricity is generated by large power plants and distributed through extensive grids that make up an electric power system. These activities are the exclusive domain of large electric companies, whether privately or government-owned.Therefore, the current energy system, based on fossil fuels—coal, natural gas, and oil—is not only one of the main causes of the global climate crisis, but it is also inequitable because it is concentrated in the hands of a few, in addition to limiting access to resources and public participation in decision-making.This requires that the energy transition involves not only a shift in the energy mix but also the creation of a new energy system that—among other things—enables democratized access to energy from clean, renewable sources.Energy self-generation, as a decentralized production model, is an opportunity to move in that direction. What does democratic access to energy mean?Energy is necessary for people to have access to better food, clean water, job opportunities, education, and other rights. Therefore, energy is also a right and a prerequisite for ensuring the enjoyment of other human rights.Energy democracy is both a principle and a movement that seeks to ensure that energy decisions—how it is generated, who generates it, and who benefits from it—are in the hands of the people rather than concentrated in the hands of large corporations or elites, prioritizing the use of clean and renewable energy sources as well as decentralized systems, with a focus on social justice.Therefore, democratic access to energy entails:Community control of energy resources.Citizen participation in energy planning.Equitable distribution of benefits. This contrasts with traditional centralized systems—often monopolistic—that have led to inequities, such as communities paying high electricity rates or suffering the impacts of large-scale electricity generation, yet having no say in the decisions that affect them.In Latin America, the active involvement of indigenous, rural, and traditional communities in energy projects is seen as a cornerstone for achieving a socially and environmentally just transition, closing energy access gaps, and strengthening energy democracy.In this regard, energy self-generation embodies energy democracy, as it allows entire communities to make their own energy decisions and reclaim control over key links in the electricity value chain, such as generation and management. What is energy self-generation?Self-generation is a decentralized model of electricity production that relies on locally available clean and renewable energy sources (such as solar, hydropower, or wind). This approach is used in projects that are often small-scale and can be used individually or collectively to meet energy needs in urban or rural areas, including those far from distribution grids.It is a model that enables progress, at the local level, toward reducing greenhouse gas emissions—which exacerbate the climate crisis—without repeating the extractivist model. It recognizes the right of communities to generate their own energy to meet their needs and, at the same time, helps reduce energy poverty and dependence on centralized power grids.Energy self-generation can take two forms:Distributed generation: A small-scale self-generation system connected to nearby distribution grids to feed surplus energy into the grid.Off-grid systems: A closed-loop self-generation system disconnected from distribution grids. In this model, users are no longer passive participants but instead play an active role in generating and managing energy wherever they are. A self-generating individual or community both produces and consumes energy. Examples of energy self-generation in Latin AmericaAcross the continent, success stories in implementing the self-generation model are strengthening the regional movement for energy democratization. Here are a few examples:Mexico - "Energy for the Yeknemilis (Good Living)." A community initiative implemented in the Northeastern Highlands of Puebla to promote local energy sovereignty through the installation of photovoltaic systems in community spaces.Colombia - Community solar project on Isla Fuerte. Installation of a solar microgrid with batteries (150 kW peak and 348 kWh of storage), not connected to the National Interconnected System, capable of providing continuous electricity to the 250 households on the Caribbean island.Brazil - Percília e Lúcio Renewable Energy Cooperative. A community initiative founded by the NGO Revolusolar and developed by residents of the Morro da Babilônia and Chapéu Mangueira favelas in Rio de Janeiro. Solar panels were installed there, reducing electricity rates by more than 50%.Chile - Curicó Electric Power Supply Cooperative. A community-based initiative operating in the Maule Region that installs solar panels to supply electricity to rural grids and community facilities. Challenges for energy self-generationDespite the progress made, the widespread and effective implementation of this model faces significant challenges on the continent. The main ones are:Inadequate regulation (complex or insufficient). Often, a country’s domestic regulations make it difficult or impossible to implement such schemes. This is due to limitations on the number of megawatts (MW) that can be generated, complex contractual requirements, or a lack of appropriate legal structures.Limited financing. Many low-income households cannot afford the upfront cost of solar panels or other technologies. Government support or loans for these projects are scarce. The risk is that self-generation will be concentrated among those with the financial means to implement it, thereby excluding the segments of the population most affected by energy poverty.Inefficient electrical infrastructure. Local grids often lack the capacity or technical capabilities to integrate energy generated by decentralized sources, limiting the ability to take advantage of surplus energy feed-in. Furthermore, the need for storage systems to address the variability of renewable energy sources, as well as the lack of grid backup, increases project costs. Energy self-generation: A solid path toward a just transitionThe pursuit of equitable access to energy through tools such as energy self-generation is consistent with the need to ensure that the energy transition puts people at the center and prioritizes improving their living conditions as its ultimate goal.Electricity generation models designed by and for communities are an important means of ensuring access to affordable, reliable, sustainable, and modern energy for everyone.Because discussing a just energy transition means reclaiming energy as a tool to meet human needs in the context of inequities and finite resources. Learn more about a just energy transition in Latin America.
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Voices for the Motagua River: Olga Vázquez, hands that shape hope
Stories of courage, dignity, and resistance for life in the face of pollution in Guatemala’s longest river.For generations, clay was the heart of Santa Cruz Chinautla. It emerged from the earth as a daily gift, was shaped by patient hands, and transformed into pots, jugs, whistles, and comales that were taken to the markets in the capital.There, between the river and the wood-fired kilns, doña Olga Noemí Vázquez grew up. From childhood, she learned the art of pottery from her mother. Today, at nearly sixty years old, she continues to work with clay, but the craft is no longer the same. Clay is scarce, the river smells like sewage, and her hands crack from the chemicals carried by the polluted water.Doña Olga fondly recalls how she first got into pottery. "I learned it when I was ten years old. My mom taught me. I wanted to make different shapes and styles, because sometimes tourists would bring different figurines, and here we’d try to imitate them," she says from the small workshop she’s set up in her home. Every piece she creates is an act of remembrance, a way to resist oblivion and the loss of the landscape and her livelihood.He also recalls that in the past, the town's inhabitants didn't go to the capital to work. "We made our living right here. We grew vegetables, güisquiles, and corn. Everything was produced right here. And we made a living from clay. Today, it’s not like that anymore." Photo: Mayela Sánchez García. From drainage to destruction The change was slow, like a tide that rises without you noticing. First came the drainage systems. Then, the trucks. The city’s trash found its final destination in Chinautla. "There was nowhere else to dump it, so they dumped it on us," she says. That’s how the tragedy began: the rivers turned into channels of waste, the banks became covered in gray crusts, and the odors became unbearable, especially during the rainy season. "The river carries all the trash from Zone 3. It smells awful. There’s no clean clay anymore; we can’t dig it up as we used to."The 1976 earthquake left a mark on the town’s memory, but it was systematic neglect that ultimately disfigured the landscape. The municipal government, she says, moved from Santa Cruz to Zone 6, and since then the town has been left without any real representation. "There’s no mayor here. They come here to put up their campaign posters, they hold office, but they’re never here. They’ve never taken us into account," she laments. Women who resist In the face of institutional silence, associations, collectives, and struggles emerged. Among them was the Chinautla Women’s Association. "We organized because if we didn’t, we would have been left with nothing. The clay was running out, the sand miners were advancing, and the river was washing everything away. The women here don’t go to the capital to work. They make pottery at home and take care of their children. If we ran out of clay, we’d have no life left."In 2010, disaster struck with full force. Two rivers, Las Vacas and Chinautla, overflowed due to the accumulation of sand that had been extracted without any controls. The water swept away a bridge. The community banded together and built another one with their own hands. The municipality did not cooperate. "That bridge is in ruins, but we, the neighbors, built it. Otherwise, we’d still be cut off."Sand mining has become their most persistent enemy. "The sand miners are wearing us down. They take out tons and tons of sand every day. Our clay is gone with them. We’re left with almost nothing. And what little remains is contaminated," he says. The damage isn’t limited to the landscape—people’s health is suffering as well. Photo: Mayela Sánchez García. The value of words and justice The expansion of businesses, the passivity of the authorities, and social erosion have caused divisions within the town. "Politics has planted ideas in people’s minds. There are thousands of residents, but only 500 support us. The rest don’t cooperate. They don’t understand that this isn’t about a political party—it’s about our town," she explains.In recent years, the women’s association has joined forces with the town’s ancestral authorities. Together, they have succeeded in opening channels of dialogue with government ministries, halting the renewal of extractive licenses, and bringing the conflict to the government's attention. The 2025 ruling, handed down after years of legal battles, was a ray of hope amid the neglect. A court ordered the municipality to assume its environmental responsibility. For the first time, someone listened. "Thanks to that ruling, a businessman was stopped. His license hasn’t been renewed. It wasn’t like that before: you’d go to talk to them, and the ministers only thought about making a profit. Now, at least, they listen to us."The future is uncertain. Drinking water is delivered only once every eight days. Mining permits can be renewed at any time. The river continues to carry trash. But there’s one thing doña Olga is not willing to lose: her dignity. "I advise women to get involved, to stay informed. We can’t just stay at home without knowing what politicians, businesspeople, and ministers are doing. If you get involved, you’ll find out. And once you know, you’ll fight."When asked what Chinautla was like 50 years ago, her eyes fill with lost images: girls playing in the street, clean water flowing over stones, women shaping clay at sunset. "It was peaceful," she says. “It was ours.” Today, amid pollution and plundering, Chinautla endures thanks to women like her, who continue to shape its history with clay, memory, and courage.
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Voices for the Motagua River: Nazario Pascual, an artery of the Poqomam people
Stories of courage, dignity, and resistance for life in the face of pollution in Guatemala’s longest river.Nazario Pascual needs no embellishments to define himself: "I am a Poqomam warrior who uses music and sung poetry to plant a little seed in people’s minds. I am an artery of the Poqomam people."A musician, cultural promoter, and independent producer, Nazario lives in Santa Cruz Chinautla, a community affected by pollution in the Motagua River. From there, he sings in Poqomam so that his language will not disappear, and so that the children who listen to him will grow up knowing that the river, too, has a memory.His journey began in the church pews, watching his father play. But it was an intimate moment that ignited the spark: one night, he heard his dad praying in Poqomam. "I thought, ‘Wow, God hears us in Poqomam. It’s your heritage.’ That’s where I started." The landscape that took away his childhood When Nazario talks about his childhood, he describes fruit trees, springs, and a communal washhouse where mothers washed clothes while the children played. Today, all of that is gone.The uncontrolled expansion of the capital and the diversion of stormwater to the Zone 3 landfill have turned the river into an open wound. Added to this are the sand pits that extract material without any oversight: "They’ve eaten away at a large part of the Poqomam territory. Here we call it ‘black gold.'"His family has lost their land dozens of times. When it rains in the city, the smells reach Chinautla even if not a single drop falls there. Houses are sinking, the ground is cracking, and residents are being displaced."The river is a monster coming from the city," he says. Photo: Mayela Sánchez García. A legacy of struggle, but also of weariness Nazario inherited his father’s conviction to protest. He took part in demonstrations, organized meetings, and, together with others, built a retaining wall under the red bridge with community support. But he also bears the weight of so many years: "At first there were 17 of us at the protests, then 12, then 7, and now barely 4."An aunt told him straight out: "Don’t try to be a folk hero." The remark made him reflect on the limits of commitment… and on the need for new forms of resistance. Seeds that sing Nazario found that new path in music. He formed a band with his cousins and later began working with children. Together, they write lyrics about the river, compose melodies, and sing in Poqomam. That’s how "Mamut" was born—one of the songs sung in the community today."Getting children and young people involved is the small contribution I’m trying to make,” he explains. “They’re the ones who will remain here." Photo: Mayela Sánchez García. A message that endures Nazario knows the problem is bigger than he is. The Motagua River carries trash that ends up in the Caribbean, affecting entire communities. But he also believes that local struggles have power."It’s understandable to go to work—because we have to—but we shouldn’t be indifferent to what’s happening in the town."He fears that the real plan of the polluting and extractive industries is to wipe the Poqomam people off the map. But he dreams of a different story:"I imagine Chinautla with the river stabilized, children growing up in a dignified environment, knowing their rights and fighting for them." The pulse of a community His voice is a blend of pain and hope. He speaks of losses—of his father, of the land, of the river—but also of music, of living languages, and of children singing along to his songs."I am an artery of the Poqomam people," he repeats.And like any artery, he beats to keep his community alive.
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5 keys to collective action: Lessons from the meeting of environmental defenders from the Southern Cone
Can an energy transition be just if it repeats the harms of traditional extractivism?That was one of the central questions of “Articulando Territorios: Meeting of Defenders from the Southern Cone”, an event held on June 9 and 10 in Santiago, Chile, that brought together environmental defenders from Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile.For years, AIDA has stood alongside those defending their territories against extractive and energy projects in Latin America. This meeting was part of that commitment: a space to share experiences, strengthen protection capacities, and collectively reflect on the impacts of the pressures of the global energy transition, including the rise of extractivism.Here are the five key lessons we took away: 1. Communities are at the heart of the resistance for a just and sustainable energy transitionMany of the activities promoted under the global paradigm of the energy transition—such as lithium, copper, and other “strategic” metal mining, as well as port megaprojects—aimed at decarbonizing the energy mix continue to reproduce the historical dynamics of intensive resource extraction. The experiences and lessons shared in regions such as San Antonio in Chile, Salinas Grandes and Vaca Muerta in Argentina, and the salt flats of Bolivia point the way toward environmental justice. Against this new backdrop—and amid a wave of extractive expansion—local communities are shifting from being areas affected by these projects to becoming strategic allies in the resistance movements of the Southern Cone. 2. Defending the territory is a project that encompasses all aspects of life and shapes one's identityBeing an environmental defender is not a temporary job or activity, but a true life’s work. From this perspective, territorial defense goes beyond the protection of a physical or economic space. It involves cultural identity, collective memory, spirituality, and the intrinsic “body-territory” relationship. This framework explains why the impacts on ecosystems cannot be measured solely in economic terms: they directly damage the social fabric through community fragmentation, the forced migration of young people, and the painful loss of ancestral practices. 3. Protection must be comprehensive, collective, and proactiveThe protection of those who defend the territory cannot depend on individual reactions or improvised measures when the risk is imminent. Protecting ourselves means identifying threats and strengths, and increasing our capacity to respond to risks. Building support networks, ensuring protection protocols are in place, and prioritizing collective care are the foundation for establishing robust processes for territorial and environmental defense. 4. Communication is about challenging narratives without revictimizingCommunication is a fundamental tool for political protection and strategic advocacy to counteract power imbalances. Communities must position themselves as primary sources of territorial knowledge and as the authors of their own narratives. Effective communication means bringing their knowledge, their proposals, and their capacity for organized resistance to the forefront, without reducing them to suffering or revictimizing them. 5. Recognize the right to defend the environment and use international tools as a means of protectionRecognizing that defending the environment is a holistic life project means recognizing and legitimizing the right to defend it. Territory and environmental defenders safeguard common goods that benefit society as a whole. It is necessary to explicitly recognize the legitimacy and dignity of this work by eliminating stigmas and criminalization, and by ensuring safe spaces for the exercise of this right.In this context, the tools of international law are part of the range of protective measures, including:Strategic litigation. The success and transformative value of strategic environmental litigation go far beyond simply obtaining a favorable court ruling. Its true potential lies in bringing silenced conflicts to light, generating independent technical evidence, and opening up political spaces—all of which occur when it is well coordinated with community-based organizational processes.Escazú Agreement. The Escazú Agreement is a fundamental regional framework thanks to the three procedural rights—access to information, participation, and justice in environmental matters—that it guarantees and upon which it is built. It is key to the active protection of environmental human rights defenders. This framework must be transformed into a tool for defense in the hands of communities, particularly through well-founded legal action and the activation of the mechanisms provided for in the agreement. The recent gathering of environmental defenders from the Southern Cone confirms something that AIDA has observed across the entire continent: the defense of the environment and human rights is built through networking.We will continue to stand with communities and environmental defenders in Latin America to ensure that the energy transition does not come at the expense of their territories and their lives.
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