In other words, governments will face an exam to answer a simple but decisive question for the health of the Earth: are they really doing what they promised to halt the destruction of nature and restore lost biodiversity? Bolivia is one of the countries expected to show what it has done. Before facing that exam, at COP17 of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), to be held in Yerevan, Armenia, from October 19 to 30, 2026, countries first had to account for their progress. They did so through their Seventh National Reports (7NR), in which each government details the measures it has taken and the results it has achieved.

The deadline was February 28, 2026. These reports will provide input for the first global review of collective progress. Bolivia also submitted its report, a document that makes it possible to reconstruct—from the State’s official account—the progress it claims to have made and the difficulties it acknowledges.

The Great Challenge

In 2022, during COP15 of the Convention on Biological Diversity, countries adopted the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework and laid out a roadmap toward a world living in harmony with nature by 2050. To meet that challenge, they established 23 targets for 2030 that not only commit governments to halting biodiversity loss, but also place Indigenous Peoples and local communities at the center—as rights holders and essential actors in the conservation of their territories and ways of life.

This relationship between conservation and Indigenous rights runs throughout the Framework. It is particularly evident in Targets 1 and 3. The first calls for spatial planning that reduces the loss of areas of importance for biodiversity while respecting the rights of Indigenous Peoples and local communities. Target 3, known as the 30×30 target, establishes that conservation of at least 30% of the planet’s lands and waters must respect these peoples’ rights over their traditional territories. The message is clear: biodiversity conservation cannot be separated from Indigenous Peoples. So, what has Bolivia done over the past four years to fulfill the commitments it made?

If Indigenous territories are part of Bolivia’s strategy to conserve biodiversity, what is actually happening to their forests in the face of deforestation, land encroachment, and the other pressures the State itself acknowledges?

If Indigenous territories are part of Bolivia’s strategy to conserve biodiversity, what is actually happening to their forests?

In its Seventh National Report, prepared by the General Directorate of Biodiversity and Protected Areas, the Bolivian State maintains that Indigenous territories form part of its conservation strategy. Without providing any figures, the document reports progress in the titling of new Tierras Comunitarias de Origen (TCOs) / Territorios Indígena Originario Campesinos (TIOCs), the development of life plans, and the strengthening of Indigenous forms of governance. It also highlights the creation of conservation areas under Indigenous management, as well as initiatives in forest management, sustainable use, restoration, and territorial monitoring.

But the same report points to a more complex picture. Bolivia acknowledges land encroachment, conflicts over land use and overlapping rights, as well as pressures stemming from extractive activities, agricultural expansion, and illegal settlements. It also admits difficulties in updating and harmonizing life plans and, above all, a lack of information to measure land-use change and land tenure in ancestral territories and local communities. The Document states: “No Data Available”.

The paradox is significant. Bolivia presents Indigenous territories as key to conservation and to the international target of protecting at least 30% of the planet’s lands and waters. Yet when it comes to showing what is actually happening within those territories, the State itself acknowledges that it still lacks the data needed to report on one of the indicators established by the Global Biodiversity Framework. If Indigenous territories are part of Bolivia’s strategy to conserve biodiversity, what is actually happening to their forests in the face of deforestation, land encroachment, and the other pressures the State itself acknowledges?

Forests Under Pressure

An investigation by Amazonía Traficada—a journalism project supported by the Pulitzer Center, Mongabay Latam, RAI Bolivia, and Asuntos Centrales—used satellite data to examine a key region for conservation: Bolivia’s Indigenous Amazon. The investigation analyzed deforestation within 48 titled Indigenous territories in Bolivia’s Amazon basin and found that, between 1986 and 2024, these ancestral territories suffered a cumulative loss of 257,000 hectares of forest. That figure represents 3.4% of the 7.6 million hectares deforested in Bolivia during the same period.

To determine how much of that deforestation was legally authorized, the investigation cross-referenced the data with forest-clearing permits issued by the Authority for the Social Oversight and Control of Forests and Land (ABT) between 2003 and 2023. Records show that, over those two decades, the institution authorized the clearing of nearly 80,000 hectares of forest in 41 Indigenous territories. Yet only 17,900 hectares within those authorized areas actually lost their forest cover. Most of the forest loss occurred outside areas where clearing had been authorized.

In other words, between 2003 and 2023, 168,670 hectares were deforested in areas without authorization. The ratio gives a sense of the scale of the problem: for every hectare cleared within an authorized area, more than nine were cleared outside authorized areas. In other words, nearly 90% of the forest loss recorded in Amazonian Indigenous territories during that period occurred outside State authorization mechanisms. The pressure on these territories is part of a nationwide trend. A World Resources Institute (WRI) report shows that in 2025 Bolivia once again ranked second in the world for primary forest loss, behind only Brazil.

A Territorial Struggle with No End in Sight

The pressure on Indigenous territories is not limited to forests. It also extends to land tenure and the legal security of these territories. In its Seventh National Report, Bolivia states that it has expanded the area covered by TCOs/TIOCs through new land titles, although it does not specify how many hectares were incorporated.

However, cross-referencing data from research conducted by the Centro de Estudios Jurídicos e Investigación Social (CEJIS) and the Centro de Investigación y Promoción del Campesinado (CIPCA) shows that the struggle of Lowland Indigenous Peoples for the recognition, titling, and defense of their ancestral territories is far from over.

While much of this territorial demand remains unresolved, the State has continued allocating land to third parties in areas bordering Indigenous territories.

While much of this territorial demand remains unresolved, the State has continued allocating land to third parties in areas bordering Indigenous territories.

From the 1990s through the first decades of the twenty-first century, the 48 Indigenous territories in the Amazon basin collectively requested legal recognition of around 22.7 million hectares. Yet the National Institute for Agrarian Reform (INRA) titled only 11.7 million hectares—just 52% of the area claimed. In other words, more than 11 million hectares were left outside the titling process.

While much of this territorial demand remains unresolved, the State has continued allocating land to third parties in areas bordering Indigenous territories. Between 2009 and 2019, INRA allocated approximately 318,500 hectares for the establishment of 236 intercultural and campesino communities, whose social organizations were aligned with the political party that governed Bolivia between 2006 and 2025.

When Protection Is Not Enough

The gap between the protection the State says it provides and what actually happens within Indigenous territories also appears in the Seventh National Report itself. Bolivia acknowledges that it lacks information to measure, amongst other things, land tenure in the ancestral territories of Indigenous Peoples and local communities. It also acknowledges problems of land grabbing and illegal tenure.

These ancestral peoples face pressure from third-party communities settled around their titled territories with authorization from the National Institute for Agrarian Reform. But they also face land grabbing within areas legally recognized by the State—that is, territories for which they hold collective title.

While Indigenous communities denounce land grabbing and State institutions take months—even years—to act, the trees keep falling and Indigenous territories keep being trafficked.

While Indigenous communities denounce land grabbing and State institutions take months—even years—to act, the trees keep falling and Indigenous territories keep being trafficked.

An analysis of interviews with leaders from 30 of the 48 titled Indigenous territories in the Amazon basin concludes that 28 of these ancestral territories have experienced land grabbing over the past two decades and that, in 22 cases, the conflicts remain unresolved. According to the leaders interviewed, behind these occupations are networks seeking to fuel an illicit land market in the Bolivian Amazon, primarily to open up land for large-scale agricultural activities.

While Indigenous communities denounce land grabbing and State institutions take months—even years—to act, the trees keep falling and Indigenous territories keep being trafficked. But this is not the only pressure. The 30 Indigenous leaders also identified conflicts and threats linked to carbon markets, illegal mining, timber trafficking, and drug trafficking.

Conserving Beyond the Map

In Yerevan, Bolivia will have to show how much progress it has made toward 30×30. It will be able to talk about titled territories, Indigenous governance, and conservation under Indigenous management. Yet behind those figures are territories where trees continue to fall, where disputes over land persist, and where Indigenous communities wait years for the State to respond to land grabbing and the trafficking of their lands.

30×30 may look achievable when viewed on a map. But conservation does not happen on a map. It happens in real territories, where Indigenous Peoples defend their forests, their rights, and their ways of life. The unresolved issue Bolivia will take to COP17 is not simply how many hectares it can declare conserved, but how much of what it says it protects is actually safe—and how effectively it can halt or control the pressures it acknowledges in its own Seventh National Report: the expansion of the agricultural frontier, extractive activities, and human settlements as major drivers of biodiversity loss and deforestation.

In other words, beyond the exam it must sit in October, the Bolivian State—regardless of who happens to be the current occupant of power in La Paz—must be capable of enforcing the rules it has created and guaranteeing the protection of the forests and of those who inhabit these ancestral lands. This is not only an obligation to Bolivians. It is also a responsibility to a planet that no longer has time to wait for promises to become action.

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The territorial boundaries of Taung Pat Lal are demarcated by natural geographical landmarks, including the Tho Doe The Loe creek, Chein Loe Yo (Tiger Creek), El Bra Loe Chee, Chein Loe Htit (Tiger Rock), Thaw Kha Loe Chee, and the ridges of Yae Ka Hday and Kyar Mwe mountains. Within these boundary markers, the community manages a sophisticated zoning system that seamlessly integrates food production, biodiversity conservation, and spiritual protection such as rotational agricultural lands (Shwe Pyaung Taung Ya), family-managed perennial agroforestry orchards, and communal and sacred lands including protected watershed areas and sacred sites including the Prayer Mountain (Su Taung Taung), a Marian Grotto (Mae Taw Gu), and community cemetery grounds.

Customary land tenure is governed equitably. Inheritance of family orchards and land is granted equally between daughters and sons without gender discrimination. Land boundaries are respected through customary oral agreements and natural landmarks. To safeguard ancestral territories from external land-grabbing, customary rules prohibit selling inherited lands to outsiders from distant areas. If a family must transfer land, it must remain with relatives or community members. Dispute resolution is overseen by village elders, local leaders, and religious figures, terminating in traditional reconciliation practices, such as symbolic handshakes and collective prayers.

Indigenous Knowledge and Ecosystem Conservation

The conservation value of Indigenous lands comes directly from deep-rooted Indigenous ecological knowledge passed down across generations. In Taung Pat Lal, customary resource management contains mechanisms that regulate extraction and protect forest fauna and flora.

1. Agro-biodiversity and biological pest control

In rotational rice plots, Gheba Karen farmers practice agro-farming by planting Phor Li Phor Par (cockscomb flowers) along rice field margins. Under customary knowledge, these vibrant flowers attract insects away from the rice, providing natural biological control that minimizes crop damage without chemical pesticides. Furthermore, rotational plots host a diverse mix of food crops, preserving a genetic bank of resilient local plants and species.

2. Seed-keeping and leadership of Indigenous women

Women (Maetaw Thami) play a crucial role in maintaining agro-biodiversity. Following harvest, women carefully select, sun-dry, and smoke inherited seeds over kitchen households to protect them from insects, storing them safely for the next planting season. Customary rituals reinforce seed purity. When transferring harvested grain to the family granary, a handful of rice and a bouquet of flowers are tied to the main house post throughout the year, ensuring that the spirit of the crops (Saba Leik Pyar) remains tied to the land and is replanted in the spring.

3. Sustainable harvesting rules

The community enforces strict seasonal and biological guidelines for harvesting Non-Timber Forest Products. Bamboo shoots (Myit) are vital for living and livelihoods, with families harvesting bamboo shoots seasonally while maintaining root stock integrity. Medicinal plants such as Bhon Ma Ra Za roots and wild orchids are extracted selectively to prevent depletion.

4. Indigenous herbal heritage and practice

The Gheba Karen Affairs Committee and local youth documented a comprehensive collection of medicinal plants. Local healers rely on species like Dwi Yin Kaung (a wild forest fern), which is crushed into a poultice with sesame oil, turmeric, and local binders to treat severe bone fractures and tissue injuries. Other wild forest species, such as Yae Yin Pyar leaves, wild jackfruit leaves, and ginger roots, are used for post-natal care and treating physical trauma.

Increasing Threats: Conflict, Destruction, and Climate Vulnerability

Despite these sustainable practices, Indigenous Peoples in tropical forest regions face escalating structural threats that endanger both their rights and their ecosystems.

1. Escalating conflict and human rights violations

The operational environment in Kayin (Karen) State is defined by intense military conflict and displacement. Across Thantaunggyi Township and neighboring Leiktho, civilian populations endure frequent airstrikes, heavy artillery shelling, and village burnings by military regime resulting in thousands displaced across the Thantaunggyi / Leiktho regional corridor. Reports document severe casualties, including regime airstrikes on April 29, 2026 in Thantaunggyi that killed 20 civilians, alongside widespread destruction of homes. Thousands of residents remain internally displaced in forest zones, unable to return to burned villages. These conditions prevent regular agricultural cycles and threaten human security. Moreover, Indigenous Gheba Karen communities are also bearing the burden of sheltering and accommodating other internally displaced people from Bago Region, further straining their resources and resilience. The ongoing violence not only devastates lives and property but also hinders long-term development and stability in the region. Urgent international attention and support are needed to address these crises, protect civilian lives, and promote sustainable peace and recovery efforts.

2. Loss of biodiversity and Indigenous knowledge

Deforestation and habitat destruction intensified by historical commercial exploitation which have caused severe decline in biodiversity, including a rising threat against rare medicinal plant species. As elder medicinal plant experts die without proper record-keeping, generations of Indigenous healthcare knowledge risk permanent extinction. Documenting these practices is critical to prevent the loss of Indigenous knowledge and ensure that future benefit-sharing mechanisms respect community ownership.

3. Climate shocks and rodent crises

Tropical forest communities are on the frontlines of climate change. In 2024, extreme monsoon rains triggered severe landslides across Taung Pat Lal, destroying upland hill rice fields, turmeric crops, and valuable customary cardamom agroforest systems. This vulnerability is intensified by cyclical ecological crises. In 1975 and 2016, mass bamboo flowering (Mautam cycles) caused rodent population explosions that destroyed upland rice fields, forcing communities into prolonged economic recovery.

4. Top-down conservation and policy exclusion

Historically, state-driven conservation frameworks and top-down initiatives have ignored customary tenure, treating Indigenous Peoples as threats to forests rather than their primary guardians. Modern market-driven conservation mechanisms such as carbon  and biodiversity credits and offsets risk replicating “fortress conservation” models if implemented without Indigenous Peoples right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), threatening to displace communities from their ancestral lands.

The Need to Align Global Biodiversity Goals with Local Realities

The evidence from Taung Pat Lal (Khlo Do) demonstrates that global biodiversity goals cannot be achieved through top-down mandates or corporate offsetting strategies. As CBD Parties negotiate the operationalization of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) at COP17 in Armenia, the experience of Myanmar’s Indigenous communities’ points to fundamental policy priorities:

1.  Implementing Safeguards and Free, Prior and Informed Consent

All conservation, climate mitigation, and offset projects must enforce Section C of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) safeguards. Protected area expansion, green infrastructure projects, or carbon and biodiversity credit schemes should only proceed after obtaining the Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) of Indigenous Peoples over their ancestral lands and resources. Furthermore, conservation and carbon- and biodiversity credit schemes that drive dispossession of Indigenous Peoples should be eliminated.

2. Direct Recognition of Indigenous Territories

Target 3 (30×30) must not be interpreted purely as the expansion of state-managed protected areas or exclusive national parks. CBD Parties must formally recognize and legally protect Indigenous Territories as distinct, self-governed conservation designations. Systems like Taung Pat Lal’s customary fallow management and communal forest protection are effective conservation models that directly maintain tropical forest territories and biodiversity. For example, customary zoning (sacred areas, orchards, watersheds) successfully conserves intact forest canopy without state enforcement.

3. Protection of Environmental Human Rights Defenders

Ensure the full, equitable and meaningful participation of Indigenous Peoples in decision-making and uphold complete land tenure rights. Robust, direct legal protection and funding mechanisms for Indigenous environmental human rights defenders operating in conflict zones should be ensured. In conflict-affected tropical forest zones, Indigenous land stewards act as the final defense against illegal logging, extraction, and ecosystem collapse. Implementing Target 22 requires operational mechanisms to protect environmental human rights defenders operating in high-risk conflict environments, shields local guardians facing violent conflict, airstrikes, and land grabbing.

4. Direct Climate and Biodiversity Financing

Despite safeguarding crucial carbon sinks and biodiversity hotspots, Indigenous Peoples organizations face systemic barriers to direct funding. International financial mechanisms must establish direct, accessible funding streams for grassroots Indigenous Peoples organizations, bypassing centralized state channels to support community-led mapping, traditional knowledge preservation, and climate resilience interventions.

Resilient Stewardship in the Tropical Forests

Myanmar’s tropical forests endure because of the Indigenous Peoples who steward and safeguard them. The customary land governance, agro-biodiversity practices, and Indigenous herbal heritage and practice of Gheba Karen community in Taung Pat Lal (Khlo Do) offer convincing proof that biodiversity conservation and human rights are fundamentally linked. As international leaders gather at COP17 in Armenia to evaluate progress under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF), international policy must be grounded in these local realities. Fully realizing the goals of the KMGBF demands formal recognition of Indigenous territories, legal protection for customary tenure, investment in Indigenous-led monitoring, and robust safeguards for frontline environmental defenders.

Due to the sensitive nature of the issues addressed in this article, Indigenous Debates prefers to keep the author or authors anonymous.

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REDD+ (Reducing emissions from deforestation and forest degradation and the role of conservation, sustainable management of forests and enhancement of forest carbon stocks in developing countries), an approach originally developed within the UN climate negotiations as a mechanism to reduce emissions from deforestation and forest degradation, has gradually evolved into a complex system involving private developers, conservation NGOs, certification bodies, financial intermediaries and state agencies.

This expansion is unfolding within a profoundly unequal global political economy. While international institutions warn of a massive “climate finance gap”, fossil fuel subsidies still amount to trillions of dollars annually, and wealthy countries continue to fall short of their historical responsibility and climate finance commitments. Within this context, carbon markets are promoted as a way to “mobilise private finance” without challenging the economic structures driving the climate crisis in the first place.

For Indigenous Peoples, the implications are enormous. Indigenous Peoples collectively steward vast areas of the world’s remaining biodiversity and carbon-rich ecosystems. Research consistently shows that forests under Indigenous governance tend to experience lower rates of deforestation and better ecological outcomes than state-managed protected areas. However, in many countries, Indigenous land rights, including customary land rights, remain weak, incomplete or entirely unrecognised. This creates the conditions for governments and private actors to claim authority over “forest carbon” while bypassing Indigenous Peoples’ governance and rights over their land and territories.

Article 6 of the Paris Agreement risks exacerbating this harm by allowing governments and private actors to generate jurisdictional carbon credits across vast territories without first guaranteeing the land rights of Indigenous Peoples, recognizing their customary institutions and authorities, or ensuring meaningful consent..

From Safeguards to Dispossession

While international safeguards are supposed to protect Indigenous Peoples’ rights in the context of carbon projects, in practice, these protections are frequently weak, non-binding or easily circumvented. In multiple regions, Indigenous Peoples’ organisations report recurring patterns: incomprehensible contracts, rushed consultation processes, unequal access to information, uninformed decisions, and growing restrictions over customary land tenure.

Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) is often reduced to a procedural formality or a simple verification requirement. Communities are approached through isolated meetings, technical presentations, or consultations conducted in foreign languages and under significant pressure. Contracts frequently involve highly complex legal and financial arrangements spanning decades, yet communities receive little independent legal or technical support to assess the long-term implications. This information gap leaves room for intermediaries — sometimes described as carbon pirates or cowboys — to secure exploitative contracts.

In many cases, the asymmetry of knowledge and power is profound. Carbon project developers, intermediaries, and certification bodies operate with specialised expertise, legal teams, and access to international finance. Communities, by contrast, are often compelled to make decisions about abstract financial instruments and future territorial-use obligations with limited information about pricing structures, contractual risks, or revenue distribution. The result is an environment in which Indigenous Peoples’ territories become incorporated into volatile global carbon markets without the rights-holders exercising informed and meaningful engagement over the process.

REDD+ pilot projects in sub-Saharan Africa have imposed strict controls on shifting cultivation and forest grazing, while communities report that conservation benefits fail to offset lost livelihoods, leading many to disengage.

REDD+ pilot projects in sub-Saharan Africa have imposed strict controls on shifting cultivation and forest grazing.

Restrictions imposed in the name of carbon conservation impact practices such as shifting cultivation, grazing, hunting, gathering or small-scale forest use. In some contexts, carbon projects replicate old models of “fortress conservation,” in which Indigenous people’s presence is viewed as a threat to environmental protection. For instance, REDD+ pilot projects in sub-Saharan Africa have imposed strict controls on shifting cultivation and forest grazing, while communities report that conservation benefits fail to offset lost livelihoods, leading many to withdraw from these programs. Research into a failed REDD+ initiative in Tanzania found that “wilderness” narratives were used to justify coercive enforcement, forced evictions, and the treatment of Indigenous residents as intruders in their own territories. In the Colombian Amazon, carbon offsetting has similarly been described as a “subtle green grab” that creates “de facto enclosures” on Indigenous lands and disciplines forest communities.

Furthermore, carbon projects reshape local governance systems, exacerbate internal inequalities and generate conflicts regarding representation, benefit-sharing and territorial authority. Benefit-sharing is often unclear, delayed, and minimal, with communities receiving only a small fraction of total revenues. Women, youth and traditional authorities are frequently excluded from negotiations — despite bearing much of the social and environmental burden — while project revenues, when they do materialize, may be captured by local elites or external intermediaries. As the “carbon rights” or the benefit share is often defined together with the land ownership, the carbon market has become another weapon for eliminating customary land rights of Indigenous Peoples due to the non-recognition of customary land rights by many governments. Recurring demands have included access to culturally appropriate and translated information, as well as independent facilitation of FPIC processes.

Phantom Credits and the Logic of Offsetting

Investigations into voluntary carbon markets have found that large numbers of forest-based credits — particularly within REDD+ schemes — are effectively “phantom credits”: credits issued for emissions reductions that either did not occur or cannot be reliably verified. Inflated baselines, weak additionality rules and the displacement of deforestation from one area to another undermine claims that these projects generate meaningful climate mitigation. Yet, these same credits are routinely used by major corporations to support “net zero” claims while they continue fossil fuel extraction and high-emission business models. Therefore, carbon offsetting does not function not as a pathway beyond fossil fuels, but rather as a mechanism that allows emissions to continue elsewhere.

This contradiction highlights one of the central problems of carbon markets. There is simply not enough land on Earth to offset current levels of fossil fuel consumption while maintaining existing patterns of extraction and economic growth. The idea that ongoing emissions in the Global North can be balanced indefinitely through conservation projects in the Global South rests on increasingly unsustainable ecological assumptions.

The problem is also epistemic. Carbon markets benefit systems of measurement, verification and monitoring rooted in technocratic and financial logics: satellite imagery, biomass calculations, carbon accounting methodologies and digital registries.

The problem is also epistemic. Carbon markets benefit systems of measurement, verification and monitoring rooted in technocratic and financial logics.

For many Indigenous Peoples, this is not merely a technical failure but a continuation of colonial relations. Territories in the Global South become spaces tasked with absorbing the environmental costs of industrial economies – i.e., greenhouse gas emissions – generated elsewhere. Forests are reduced to carbon stocks registered in distant databases, while Indigenous Peoples are expected to shoulder the burden of climate mitigation for economies that remain dependent on oil, gas and mining.

The problem is also epistemological. Carbon markets benefit and prioritize systems of measurement, verification and monitoring rooted in technocratic and financial logics: satellite imagery, biomass calculations, carbon accounting methodologies and digital registries. These frameworks often marginalise Indigenous conceptions of territory grounded in reciprocity, relationality and responsibilities between human and non-human life.

Between Rejection and Strategic Engagement

Indigenous Peoples’ responses to carbon markets are neither uniform nor static. In various regions, numerous organisations and territorial movements reject carbon markets outright, arguing that they are false solutions that commodify nature while allowing major polluters to avoid meaningful emissions reductions at source.

At the same time, the reality on the ground is often more complex. Carbon markets are already expanding rapidly across Indigenous Peoples’ territories, frequently in contexts marked by simultaneous pressures from mining, agribusiness, logging, infrastructure expansion, and organised crime such as drug trafficking. For some communities, participation in carbon projects emerges not from endorsement, but rather from the need to navigate an increasingly restrictive political and economic environment.

Indigenous Peoples’ organisations are demanding stronger territorial protections, transparent contracts, independent legal support, community-controlled benefit-sharing mechanisms and prior consultation processes designed according to Indigenous Peoples’ governance systems.

Indigenous Peoples’ organisations are demanding stronger territorial protections, transparent contracts, independent legal support, community-controlled benefit-sharing mechanisms and prior consultation processes.

In certain cases, communities view carbon initiatives as a lesser threat compared to other forms of extractive development. Others seek to engage strategically in order to secure territorial recognition, strengthen collective governance or gain leverage within negotiations that are likely to proceed regardless of Indigenous Peoples’ opposition. In this sense, participation may function less as acceptance than as a strategy of defence and political survival.

This has given rise to forms of cautious, rights-based engagement focused on strengthening Indigenous Peoples’ decision-making power rather than legitimising carbon markets themselves. Across various regions, Indigenous Peoples’ organisations are demanding stronger territorial protections, transparent contracts, independent legal support, community-controlled benefit-sharing mechanisms and consultation processes designed according to Indigenous Peoples’ governance systems rather than project timelines.

Beyond Carbon Markets

Despite the diversity of Indigenous Peoples’ positions on carbon markets, one demand remains constant across contexts: self-determination. Whether communities choose rejection, negotiation, or selective engagement, the central issue is the right of Indigenous Peoples to determine what happens within their territories according to their own institutions, knowledge systems and political priorities. Secure collective land tenure must be a precondition for any legitimate form of engagement.

Increasingly,Indigenous Peoples’ organisations are advancing alternative approaches centred on territorial rights, direct access to climate finance and non-market forms of climate action. These proposals emphasise Indigenous governance and protocols, collective land rights, food sovereignty, ecological restoration and the defence of living territories.

The expansion of carbon markets suggests that the global economy is still searching for ways to manage the climate crisis without confronting the structures that produced it in the first place. Indigenous critiques expose the limits of that approach.

The expansion of carbon markets suggests that the global economy is still searching for ways to manage the climate crisis without confronting the structures that produced it in the first place.

These approaches also challenge the broader political economy underpinning carbon markets. Addressing climate change requires far more than new financial instruments. It demands a radical structural transformation of society and the economy, facilitating a rapid fossil fuel phase-out, strict regulation of extractive industries and supply chains linked to deforestation, cancellation of illegitimate debts, and large-scale public investment in Indigenous and community-led initiatives.

The expansion of carbon markets suggests that the global economy continues to seek ways to manage the climate crisis without confronting the structures that created it in the first place. Indigenous critiques expose the limits of that approach. They remind us that forests are not simply carbon reservoirs, and that climate justice cannot be reduced to accounting exercises conducted in distant financial centres.

The post Carbon Markets and Indigenous Peoples: Between False Solutions and Forced Choices appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

On the why, we are often told these days that the main obstacle to addressing the biodiversity crisis is a lack of funding for nature, that this funding gap is too great for governments alone to be able to close, that we consequently need to reorient private capital, and that the best way to do this would be via the creation of a financial market that trades in biodiversity credits. I find this narrative to be debatable and politically biased.

The False Funding Gap Narrative

First, the alleged US$700bn annual funding gap could easily be closed by redirecting a fraction of the existing US$1,700bn annual subsidies to harmful activities. This means that the funding gap could be entirely closed with public funding, without the need to raise taxes or increase deficits, meaning there is no need for private capital at all.

If a political choice is made to rely instead on private capital for conservation, then the most effective and fastest way to reorient private capital would be via environmental regulations that curb destruction. This is because any regulation will have an impact on the future expected profits of the sectors involved, and private capital flows will adjust automatically to the new profit expectations.

Creating a market for biodiversity credits is, therefore, arguably, the last and least effective option if the goal is to address biodiversity loss.

Creating a market for biodiversity credits is, therefore, arguably, the last and least effective option if the goal is to address biodiversity loss.

But even if we were to deem environmental regulations aligned to planetary boundaries too “coercive” and we chose instead to use only the carrot and no stick, it would still be far faster, more efficient and more cost-effective to do this via favourable tax or regulatory treatment rather than by creating a whole new financial market infrastructure based on a pseudo-commodity.

Creating a market for biodiversity credits is, therefore, arguably, the last and least effective option if the goal is to address biodiversity loss. Recent precedents such as the 2008 banking crisis, the Covid recovery plan, or the recent increase in EU defence spending also show that governments can find the money when they want to.

A Lack of Environmental Integrity

In terms of concerns over the creation of a market for nature credits, such a privatization and financialization of conservation policies would fundamentally change these latter by introducing a requirement for profitability. This would, in turn, result in weaker policies than if they were based on regulation. And we have already seen the deleterious consequences of financialization in other areas such as healthcare, education, and housing. Nature credits would also mean a transfer of sovereignty from the State to the financial markets, the priorities of which are unlikely to match ecological priorities, thereby threatening our future and survival.

There is also a fundamental contradiction between the need for a large number of credit types to reflect the large number of species, and the need to transform millions of species into a handful of types of credit in order to have a liquid financial market in which buyers and sellers can easily find trading counterparts. Such a level of simplification is not compatible with environmental integrity.

This makes biodiversity offsetting not “better than nothing”, as is sometimes said, but worse than nothing, as it helps maintain a social licence to destroy, and reduces public pressure for real solutions by giving the illusion that the issue is being addressed.

This is why biodiversity offsetting has had such a poor track record in past decades.

Crucially, I fear that biodiversity credits will also be used largely for offsetting purposes as there is no other business case on this scale. The European Union’s roadmap already places nature credits beyond the mitigation hierarchy —the framework that prioritises avoiding environmental harm first, then minimising, restoring, and only as a last resort offsetting residual impacts. This culminates in offsetting, thereby reinforcing and legitimizing it, particularly as the current balance of political forces is likely to push the EU to align with the International Advisory Panel on Biodiversity Credits framework, which explicitly accommodates offsetting.

And yet there is a scientific consensus on the fact that biodiversity offsetting is not possible in most cases, as our scientific knowledge is incomplete, the science of restoration is in its infancy, and it is simply not possible to transform millions of species into a handful of liquid tradable assets. This is why biodiversity offsetting has had such a poor track record in past decades. This makes biodiversity offsetting not “better than nothing”, as is sometimes said, but worse than nothing, as it helps maintain a social licence to destroy, and reduces public pressure for real solutions by giving the illusion that the issue is being addressed.

The First Scandals Are Already Emerging

I fear that biodiversity credits and offsets will primarily take place in the Global South, under the argument that this is where you find the most intact biodiversity. In reality, however, it will also be because land is far cheaper, as a consequence of colonialism. This will lead to the same land-grabbing, tensions, and human rights abuses that have been documented with carbon offsets.

This is in addition to the fact that getting paid to protect nature somewhere in order to enable its destruction elsewhere could well stand in contradiction to the values and worldview of many Indigenous Peoples and communities. Many Indigenous Peoples understand land, waters, animals and plants as kin, or as part of a living territory, not as external “natural capital” or a bundle of “ecosystem services”. Moreover, market‑based schemes risk subordinating Indigenous territorial governance to distant financial actors and State agencies, effectively recentralizing control over territories that Indigenous Peoples have struggled for generations to defend.

The revenues can be very useful for some Indigenous communities. However, as always, the devil is in the detail: what proportion of the governance body is made up of Indigenous representatives, and do they receive at least 50% of the revenue, for example?

The revenues can be very useful for some Indigenous communities. However, as always, the devil is in the detail.

While there is currently a big push to involve Indigenous Peoples and other forest-dependent communities in the various international biodiversity credit initiatives, I understand this to be more for communication purposes than a desire for real co-design and fair sharing of decision-making power and revenues. Getting a few Indigenous leaders on board is a great and cheap way to avoid accusations of green neocolonialism, and to divert attention from the lack of environmental integrity in these schemes. This is because the conversation now becomes one of “look at these poor farmers that we’re helping with our good hearts, how dare you criticize biodiversity credits and take these revenues from them”.

To be clear, I appreciate that the revenues can be very useful for some Indigenous communities. However, as always, the devil lies in the detail: what proportion of the governance body is made up of Indigenous representatives, and do they receive at least 50% of the revenue, for example? Furthermore, biodiversity credit and offset projects are often promoted in situations where communities are under strong economic and political pressure to accept them, and this can effectively undermine the right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), turning “consent” into coercion.

The Impact on Indigenous Self-Governance

I would like to emphasize two points: firstly, I understand the current emphasis on Indigenous participation as indicating that a vast proportion of biodiversity credit/offset projects will take place on Indigenous Peoples’ territories rather than in the countries of the Global North. Secondly, I want to caution against the promises of revenues from the sale of these credits. These are hypothetical revenues that will likely be extremely volatile, as they are based on financial market prices, and could easily disappear once political leaders in the Global North no longer see a need to pretend to address the biodiversity crisis. In fact, the UK provides a textbook example of such a risk. After starting a mandatory biodiversity offset market in 2024, leading many to start restoration projects, and farmers and landowners to expect revenues, in 2025 the government introduced an alternative: real estate developers will now have an alternative to offsetting 110% of their residual destruction of nature, by paying a one-off fee into a conservation fund.

If markets collapse, communities may be left without a stable income and unable to return to their traditional livelihoods – pressured instead towards dispossession or further commodification of their lands just to survive.

If markets collapse, communities may be left without a stable income and unable to return to their traditional livelihoods.

The consequences could be especially severe for Indigenous Peoples: long-term contracts may restrict land use and governance while promised revenues are often short-lived and uncertain. If markets collapse, communities may be left without a stable income and unable to return to their traditional livelihoods – pressured instead towards dispossession or further commodification of their lands just to survive.

There are already a growing number of scandals linked to biodiversity credits and these point to deeper structural problems. They include TotalEnergies destroying a national park in Uganda to drill oil and claiming to offset, and Eiffage building a dam in the Ivory Coast and destroying the forest and protected species while falsely promising no net loss. Similar patterns are emerging elsewhere: in Mozambique, TotalEnergies’ megaproject has been associated with misleading environmental claims while, in Guinea,mining projects backed by international financial actors have been linked to large-scale ecological damage framed through compensatory mechanisms.

Who Is Promoting These Markets and Why?

Why then are these markets being promoted, knowing that they will likely be an environmental failure, just like carbon offsetting before them? I understand the primary political goal as one of protecting the status quo for a few more years. These markets give the illusion of action while avoiding any confrontation with the private interests that are currently benefiting from destruction, including mining, agribusiness, infrastructure, and real estate, and avoiding any questioning of outdated and unsustainable economic paradigms.

Put another way, I understand that the European Commission does want to address the biodiversity crisis but only to the extent that it does not get in the way of short-term economic growth and competitiveness, which remain its overarching priorities. I also fear that this market could be instrumentalized to dismantle EU environmental regulations even further, by claiming they are no longer needed as they have been replaced by this market. In a way, this is very similar to climate politics, and carbon offsetting in particular, which are both an environmental failure and a political success, as they have successfully delayed meaningful climate action for many years.

Moreover, these new markets are also not without risk for potential private investors, who will be exposed to massive levels of regulatory and reputational risk surrounding this pseudo-commodity. Recent events in the UK have also highlighted the risks of expecting to earn a stable income from the sale of biodiversity credits.

The primary objective of promoting these markets is to maintain the status quo. Image: Frédéric Hache

The Solutions Are Well-Known

What is needed instead is a shift in existing harmful subsidies and a tightening of environmental regulations in order to address the root causes of biodiversity loss and align with planetary boundaries. We know, for example, that the global food system is the primary driver of biodiversity loss through deforestation to raise livestock. The solution, according to the EAT-The Lancet Commission, is to cut food waste and change diets, incentivizing this by a shift in agricultural subsidies, a tax on unhealthy foods and regulated advertising. This would massively reduce deforestation, cut greenhouse gas emissions, and reduce water pollution from overuse of pesticides.

Another central pillar of an effective biodiversity strategy is the recognition and reinforcement of Indigenous stewardship. Securing collective land titles, recognizing Indigenous legal and governance systems, and providing stable, unconditional public support for Indigenous‑led conservation and territorial defence are among the most effective measures a government can take. The other root causes of biodiversity loss, such as overexploitation of natural resources, climate change and pollution, should likewise be addressed by gradually changing the way we consume, eat and travel, and by putting in place regulations, including to cut plastic production. This would, of course, require confronting private lobby groups such as industrial food and farming, and the current political momentum for this is not great.

I take comfort, however, in the fact that the history of social and environmental progress shows several examples of how transformative change has occurred despite unfavourable political contexts — from the trade union movement to the suffragettes, from the US civil rights movement to the environmental movement, as well as the longstanding struggles of Indigenous Peoples to defend their territories. I also take comfort in the fact that several recent surveys show that a majority of citizens worldwide are already on board, willing to change the way they work and live in order to address the climate crisis. Given enough awareness, they would likely show the same support for addressing the biodiversity crisis. The future has not yet been written; once grassroots organizing reaches a critical mass, we will eventually win.

The post Biodiversity Credits: an Outdated and Misguided Solution to the Crisis appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

One biodiversity credit represents a quantified, measurable and tradable “unit” of a positive biodiversity outcome ,such as the restoration or protection of particular ecosystems or species. Leading initiatives insist that, unlike traditional offsets, these credits should serve solely as additional investments in biodiversity rather than as mechanisms to compensate for damage caused elsewhere. In this context, they are presented as a voluntary tool for companies and investors seeking to demonstrate “nature-positive” contributions; however, the distinction between credits and offsets remains unclear in practice.

Various structures driven by States and private actors have explored “dual use,” whereby biodiversity units contribute to both mandatory regulatory offset requirements and voluntary “nature credit” markets. However, this possibility remains controversial due to concerns regarding double counting and system integrity concerns. National approaches vary: For example, England’s Environment Act 2021 established a mandatory, regulated market for biodiversity units, whereas New Zealand currently supports a voluntary, privately managed market that could eventually interact with regulatory offset mechanisms.

The Promotion of Private Financing

Major carbon certification bodies and consultancies are also entering into this space. Organisations such as Verra, South Pole, Plan Vivo, rePLANET, Terrasos and ValueNature have developed methodologies to certify biodiversity outcomes and create tradable units. The appeal is clear: a new product for investors and corporations, and a new revenue stream for intermediaries who already control a large share of the carbon market.

A growing network of initiatives – including the Biodiversity Credit Alliance, the World Economic Forum’s Financing for Nature platform, the Taskforce on Nature-related Financial Disclosures (TNFD), and new multilateral funding mechanisms such as the Global Biodiversity Framework Fund under the Global Environment Facility – is shaping the architecture of nature finance and promoting “high-integrity” biodiversity markets. In parallel, initiatives such as the International Advisory Panel on Biodiversity Credits are advancing a Global Biodiversity Credits Roadmap through voluntary,  multi-stakeholder processes.

At COP16 of the Convention on Biological Diversity, governments prioritised mobilising private finance for the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KMGBF) and operationalising the Global Biodiversity Framework Fund, yet they stopped short of formally endorsing biodiversity credit markets. Although the fund recognises Indigenous Peoples’ rights and social safeguards, serious doubts remain regarding how compliance with these commitments will be upheld in practice as biodiversity financing increases.

The Roadmap towards Nature Credits does not adequately address the rights of Indigenous Peoples, including their rights to lands, territories, and resources.

The Roadmap towards Nature Credits does not adequately address the rights of Indigenous Peoples.

In July 2025, the European Commission published its Roadmap towards Nature Credits, a market-based framework aimed at mobilising private sector investment for biodiversity conservation, based on the premise that public funding alone is insufficient. The Roadmap does not adequately address the rights of Indigenous Peoples including their rights to lands, territories, and resources. Nor does it sufficiently address the structural drivers of biodiversity loss, such as biodiversity-harmful subsidies, financial flows and production systems.

Can biodiversity be standardised and sold?

Proponents of this argument note that biodiversity credits can unlock conservation funding, reward sound environmental management, and incentivize better business practices. However, the “financing gap” approach adopted in the KMGBF obscures the fact that current proposals rely heavily on private capital from the very entities most responsible for biodiversity loss. This reinforces patterns in which wealthy states and corporations retain control over “nature finance” flows.

Biodiversity credits thus risk replicating colonial dynamics by concentrating decision-making power and value extraction in the Global North, while positioning Global South territories and peoples as sites of environmental “reparation.” The technical language of “market integrity” ultimately upholds a political project that preserves extractive economic patterns while shifting responsibility for ecological damage onto the lands of Indigenous Peoples and racialised communities.

Current strategies disproportionately benefit market-based tools, avoiding the strengthening of territorial rights, the halting of destructive projects, or subsidy reform.

Current strategies disproportionately benefit market-based tools, avoiding the strengthening of territorial rights, the halting of destructive projects, or subsidy reform.

However, core challenges are often presented as technical problems: defining a biodiversity unit that is scientifically robust, measurable and scalable. In practice, these efforts face deeper ecological and ethical problems. Biodiversity is radically place-based — ecosystems are not interchangeable, and their relationships complex and often only partially understood. Attempts to define “ecological equivalence” have already failed in biodiversity offset systems. A global review found that most of these structures failed to deliver on their promise of “no net loss” due to poor monitoring, weak enforcement, and unrealistic restoration timelines.

Although biodiversity credits claim to focus on positive outcomes rather than compensating losses, they inherit the same logic of converting complex ecological relationships into standardised, tradable units. The push for global fungibility reflects investors’ need for liquidity rather than ecological realities. As a result, this  carries the risk of fragmenting ecosystems into “assets” and “service units” — undermining the holistic approaches to territory that underpin many Indigenous legal orders.

There is also a broader issue regarding reliance on markets to resolve a crisis largely driven by accumulation of wealth. Economic tools, such as credits, should complement — not replace — regulation, public funding and collective forms of governance. Yet, current strategies disproportionately prioritize market-based instruments, while failing to strengthen land rights, halt destructive projects, or reform subsidies.

Indigenous territories at the frontline of biodiversity finance

Many biodiversity credit pilot projects are being developed in the Global South, particularly in forest territories governed by Indigenous Peoples —the same lands that have hosted carbon offset projects over the past two decades, frequently accompanied by rights violations and social conflicts. Protected areas have repeatedly been established without recognising customary tenure, without ensuring Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC), and with severe restrictions on traditional livelihoods. Biodiversity credits are likely to intensify these dynamics in various ways:

Land pressure. Assigning a financial value to biodiversity conservation outcomes makes Indigenous territories more attractive to conservation investors, particularly where land rights remain unresolved, creating a risk of long-term management arrangements that marginalize customary institutions.

Control and surveillance. Verification systems such as remote sensing, standardised indicators, digital tokens displace Indigenous knowledge and governance, benefitting external experts whilst potentially monitoring how communities use their own territories.

Unfair contracts. As with carbon projects, communities often lack independent legal advice; contracts may be signed by narrow leadership without collective consent, with small and poorly documented revenue shares vulnerable to elite capture.

Division and criminalisation. Where significant sums of money are at stake, intermediaries can exploit internal differences to secure consent. Those who question projects risk being labelled anti-development or threats to conservation — a serious concern given the growing criminalisation and killing of environmental defenders.

Beneath these concrete risks lies a deeper clash of values. Biodiversity credit methodologies reduce nature to what can be counted, economically valued and traded, whereas many Indigenous knowledge systems are grounded in responsibility, reciprocity and the sacred nature of the natural world — where territory cannot be partitioned into commodities. When that relational worldview is treated as an obstacle rather than a foundation for public policy, biodiversity credits become yet another tool of colonisation.

Whose integrity?

In response to mounting criticism, biodiversity credit initiatives emphasize “high-integrity” principles such as robust governance, FPIC, equitable benefit-sharing, and grievance mechanisms. Some multilateral funds publicly recognise Indigenous Peoples as custodians of biodiversity. However, there is a marked gap between rhetoric and practice. Core principles and methodologies are being designed by coalitions of financial institutions, conservation NGOs and standard-setting bodies, with limited or late-stage Indigenous involvement.

Since the adoption of the KMGBF, numerous Indigenous organisations — including the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues — have repeatedly warned, including at CBD COP16, that biodiversity markets risk replicating the dispossession, inequality, and territorial control observed in carbon offset projects. These organizations emphasise that biodiversity financing must address historical injustices, strengthen direct funding for Indigenous Peoples, and avoid commodifying nature while undermining collective territorial governance. Any emerging biodiversity credit framework must critically incorporate these positions.

Governance must reflect genuine Indigenous leadership. Indigenous organizations must occupy real decision-making spaces in the design and oversight of biodiversity financing mechanisms.

Governance must reflect genuine Indigenous leadership. Indigenous organizations must occupy real decision-making spaces in the design and oversight of biodiversity financing mechanisms.

Three fundamental shifts are required to prevent biodiversity credits from replicating the harms associated with carbon markets. First, rights must precede markets: recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ land, territory and collective tenure rights should be a prerequisite for any credit scheme, rather than an aspiration. This entails the full implementation of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples — particularly regarding FPIC and self-determination — in both law and practice.

Second, governance must reflect genuine Indigenous leadership. Indigenous organisations should hold real decision-making roles — not merely advisory ones — in the design and oversight of biodiversity finance mechanisms, supported by dedicated funding and respect for diverse knowledge systems. Third, the role of credits must remain limited. They should neither license destructive activities through offsetting nor replace regulation and public financing. Binding rules are needed to prevent double-counting, greenwashing and the use of credits to justify mining, fossil fuel extraction or large infrastructure projects elsewhere.

Choosing a different path

The drive for biodiversity credits addresses a real problem:  chronic underfunding of biodiversity, particularly where Indigenous Peoples are its primary custodians despite historic marginalisation. Yet, direct funding for Indigenous-led conservation, coupled with legal reforms to secure land and governance rights, would likely deliver far more enduring outcomes than speculative credit schemes.

Whether or not Indigenous Peoples engage with these markets is a matter of self-determination, but any decision must be based on FPIC with transparent information regarding the risks and alternatives. Governments and private actors must not treat credit schemes as a shortcut around the harder decisions of ending destructive industries and confronting unequal power relations.

The fundamental question is which visions of nature, development and justice will shape the future. If biodiversity credits simply reinforce the extractive logic that created the biodiversity crisis, they will represent another round of sacrifices imposed on Indigenous Peoples.

The post Biodiversity Credits: ‘Innovative’ Structures, Old Risks for Indigenous Peoples appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

Throughout the workshop, one message resonated strongly: carbon markets cannot be understood in isolation, but rather as part of a longer history of interventions in Indigenous territories. Participants drew a line connecting different historical periods, from colonization, to the rubber boom, and the expansion of oil extraction and mining, with contemporary climate initiatives. In each of these processes, Indigenous territories have become the focus of external interests, while the Peoples who inhabit them have had little decision-making power.

The New Face of Extractivism

From this perspective, carbon has become a new element within a familiar pattern. The issue is not simply about conserving forests or reducing emissions, but about who has the power to determine how territories are used and under what conditions. For many participants, these mechanisms serve global interests by helping to sustain prevailing economic models, allowing companies and corporations to continue polluting while claiming to offset their environmental impacts. In doing so, responsibility is increasingly shifted onto Indigenous Peoples, who have long protected and cared for their ancestral territories.

The experiences shared during the workshop reinforced this conclusion. Participants cited examples of conservation projects that have restricted the customary use of Indigenous territories. These restrictions include limiting traditional practices such as hunting, fishing and gathering. In other cases, protected areas or carbon projects were implemented in Indigenous territories without adequate consultation processes, giving rise to conflicts that continue to this day. These experiences also highlighted how conservation agendas can operate as mechanisms of control.

The problem is not only carbon markets. The language changes, but relationships of power remain intact. For this reason, beyond the technical discussion, this issue was highlighted as a political struggle over territory, autonomy, and rights.

The problem is not only carbon markets. Language changes, but relationships of power remain intact.

These processes do not occur in isolation. They are accompanied by narratives that promise economic benefits, local development and so-called “improvements in quality of life”, often reduced to health and education. These arebasic rights that states should already be fully guaranteeing. Several participants recalled that similar promises have long been part of the story, particularly in the context of oil extraction, where the outcomes failed to match the expectations that had been created. This collective memory provides an important historical lens through which current carbon-related proposals are understood.

In this sense, the problem is not only the carbon market as an instrument, but also the way it is being introduced into territories marked by histories of dispossession. The language has changed, but the underlying power relations remain. For this reason, the issue was framed not simply as a technical debate, but as a political struggle over territory, autonomy, and rights. Through such disputes, Indigenous Peoples seek to avoid repeating the experiences of the past.

Unequal Decision-Making and Internal Conflicts

Another key theme was how decisions are made within these processes, given the profound power imbalances between the actors involved. While companies, NGOs and governments possess technical expertise, financial resources and institutional backing, local communities often engage with in these processes with limited access to information and under starklyunequal conditions. In many cases, external actors arrive with pre-designed proposals and seek to secure rapid agreements that do not align with community timelines or decision-making processes. Negotiations are frequently conducted without going through collective mechanisms such as community assemblies, generating tensions and divisions within communities.

One of the issues most frequently highlighted was the lack of clear and accessible information. Communities do not always have access to complete information about the benefits, obligations and long-term implications of carbon projects. This problem increases the risk of decisions being made under pressure or on the basis of incomplete information, undermining the ability of Indigenous Peoples to fully exercise their right to self-determination.

The importance of free, prior, and informed consent was highlighted with the recognition that there exists a necessity to go beyond its formal application. For this, there was an emphasis on the need to strengthen community-owned decision-making mechanisms.

Decisions are made outside of territories and then they are taken to local communities to receive approval, many times, under fraudulent pretenses.

The role of the State was also called into question. Cases documented in countries such as Colombia and Bolivia showed that state laws and regulations do not necessarily guarantee transparent or equitable processes. In some instances, governments themselves have promoted the aforementioned mechanisms without ensuring the effective participation of Indigenous Peoples. This suggests that decisions are often shaped outside Indigenous territories and only later brought to communities for approval, in many cases under fraudulent pretenses.

In light of this information, participants highlighted the importance of free, prior and informed consent (FPIC), while stressing the need to move beyond a merely procedural application of this right. Particular emphasis was placed on strengthening Indigenous decision-making institutions. Such institutions include community assemblies, local statutes, and territorial governments, fortifying each as essential spaces for the assurance of collective decision-making processes and the prevention of imposed or even fragmented decision-making.

Autonomy, Memory and Indigenous-Led Alternatives

The discussions converged on a key point: decisions concerning Indigenous territories cannot be subordinated to external agendas. Autonomy and self-determination are not abstract principles but concrete conditions that enable Indigenous Peoples to decide what under what terms they accept and reject decisions. Historical memory is central to this position. Experiences with oil extraction, mining and “conservation and development” policies have left enduring scars such as broken promises, damaged territories and casualties. Consequently, carbon markets are not viewed as isolated opportunities but as part of a broader continuum of external interventions imposed on Indigenous lands and peoples.

Rather than adopting a purely reactive stance, Indigenous leaders emphasized that viable alternatives are already being implemented. These include community forest management, Indigenous production systems, traditional medicine, community-based tourism and Indigenous knowledge systems. Far from being mere aspirations, these are living practices that sustain life in Indigenous territories. Strengthening these alternatives points towards a future that differs fundamentally from the offsetting schemes promoted by external actors.

In this regard, the workshop ended not only with critical reflections but also with a clear direction: strengthening Indigenous-led agendas. The emphasis is on consolidating territorial processes—including organization, economic initiatives, communication and political coordination—that can sustain autonomous decision-making over time. Rather than adapting to carbon markets, the goal is to advance an Indigenous path in which territory is not treated as a tradable asset but recognized as the foundation of collective life.

Communication, Coordination and the Struggle over Narratives

The discussions held during the workshop highlighted the need to contest not only what happens in Indigenous territories, but also the narratives through which these processes are understood and represented. Carbon markets do not advance solely through economic agreements or legal frameworks; they are also promoted through narratives that portray them as the only solution to the climate crisis. In this context, communication becomes  a field of strategy, as there is a significant gap between how these projects are presented in international forums and how they are experienced in Indigenous territories. At the global level, they are described as mechanisms for sustainable conservation, yet within communities they are often experienced as processes that generate uncertainty, restrictions, conflict and violations of rights.

This disconnect reinforces the need for Indigenous Peoples to develop and disseminate their own narratives. Participants stressed the importance of strengthening Indigenous communication networks that can facilitate the sharing of information, the visibility of experiences and the production of analyses rooted in territorial realities. The aim is not merely to inform, but to build an autonomous voice capable of responding to narratives imposed from outside. In this way, communication becomes a key tool for territorial defense and political advocacy.

All in all, the debate regarding carbon markets is not only material, but also symbolic and political. It deals with who defines the problem, who proposes the solutions, and under whose terms such decisions are made.

The debate regarding carbon markets is both symbolic and political: who defines the problem, who proposes solutions, and under whose terms such decisions are made.

Coordination among Indigenous Peoples was another key theme. Although national contexts differ, many of the challenges they face are shared across the region. Exchanging experiences, lessons learned, and strategies helps strengthen collective positions and prevents these conversations from unfolding in isolation. Such coordination extends beyond local and national spaces to international arenas, where decision-making directly affects Indigenous territories.

Participants also highlighted the importance of identifying allies and mapping the actors involved in this landscape, recognizing that not all share the same interests. Such mapping enables more informed decision-making and helps Indigenous Peoples identify efforts to draw them into agendas that have not been shaped by their own realities. Taken together, the struggle surrounding carbon markets is not only material but, above all, political and symbolic. At stake are questions of who defines the problem, who proposes the solutions and on whose terms such decisions are made. In this context, communication and coordination are essential tools for sustaining processes of resistance and for building alternatives emerging from Indigenous territories.

A Contested Horizon: The Future of Indigenous Territories

The workshop did not result in a definitive conclusion; rather, it confirmed that a new arena of debate is emerging around Indigenous territories. Carbon markets have become one component within a broader global dynamic in which forms of control over nature, access to nature and decision-making power are being reconfigured. This is no longer solely a matter of direct extraction, but of more complex mechanisms that operate through regulations, certification schemes, financial instruments and climate-related discourses.

In this context, Indigenous Peoples face not only technical or economic challenges, but profoundly political ones. At stake are their territories, rights and autonomy. The discussions made clear that these processes are not being passively accepted. Instead, they reflect a critical reading that identifies in carbon markets a reconfiguration of earlier forms of dispossession, albeit expressed through new languages and justifications. At the same time, the debate went beyond outright rejection, opening space for reflection on what it means to care for and defend territories, how the climate crisis should be addressed, and what kind of future Indigenous Peoples seek to build.

What is at play is not simply a mechanism, but also the sense and feeling over the territory. Here, the message is clear: life, self-determination, and sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples cannot be negotiated.

The climate crisis cannot be resolved simply by placing responsibility in the hands of those  who have historically stewarded and cared for the forests.

Against a global narrative that turns forests into market assets, it is necessary to adopt a different perspective in which territory is not a resource, but a space of life, relations and community. This contrast defines the current moment. For those who took part in the meeting, carbon markets do not represent a solution, but rather a new form of intervention in Indigenous territories that, under the language of conservation and climate action, reconfigure long-standing logics of control and seek to determine the use of spaces that do not belong to them.

In this context, the position is clear: territories are not for sale, nor can they be turned into compensation instruments to sustain economies that continue to pollute. The climate crisis will not be solved by shifting responsibility onto those who have historically cared for forests. What is at stake is not only a mechanism, but the very meaning of territory itself. At this point, the message is clear: life, self-determination and the sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples cannot be negotiated nor debated.

The post The Amazon at a Crossroads: Indigenous Peoples Confront the Expansion of Carbon Markets appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

Bulari Lolki from Sesia in Northern Kenya

One community leader’s sentiments in Northern Kenya echo questions we have heard from hundreds of Indigenous and grassroots communities around the world. Carbon markets are intensifying pressure on land, particularly in places where collective tenure rights are weak or not formally recognized. This raises widespread concerns that carbon credit projects will lead to land grabs or will sideline communities in decision-making about what happens on their land. 

At the same time, many of the communities we work with welcome the revenue carbon projects can generate to support local livelihoods and conservation efforts — if they can set the terms under which projects move forward.

In practice, this remains difficult. Common challenges include:

• Highly technical language: Carbon projects often involve complex legal, financial, and scientific concepts (e.g., carbon accounting, the process of measuring and tracking how much carbon is stored or reduced by a project, and legal rights to emissions removals and reductions from project activities). This makes it difficult for communities to fully understand project terms, risks, and benefits and limits their ability to make informed decisions.

• Lack of transparency: Communities frequently have limited access to clear, timely, and complete information about project agreements, revenue flows, and safeguards. The lack of full disclosure during the project design and implementation creates uncertainty and can lead to mistrust or uninformed consent.

• Power imbalances in negotiations: Project developers and investors often have significantly greater resources, technical expertise, and legal support than the communities they engage with. Many of these communities are located in remote, underserved areas and have historically been marginalized by governments, with limited access to basic services. This makes it extremely difficult for communities to engage with developers on equal footing.  

As a result, communities find themselves at a crossroads: they seek the financial benefits that carbon projects promise to improve their livelihoods, while also striving to retain autonomy over their land and resources. In the context of uneven legal protections for their rights, communities struggle to negotiate fair agreements and often face pressure to accept unfavorable terms.

Organizing Collectively to Overcome Power Asymmetries

In the Northern Kenya Rangelands Carbon Project — the world’s largest soil carbon project encompassing Sesia, a Samburu pastoralist community in Northern Kenya — communities initially struggled to engage with the project proponent as equal partners. The first decade of the project brought many benefits, including improvements to grazing lands and more than 14 million USD in revenue for participating communities. But community members had concerns about how the project operated day to day. For example, they wanted full transparency about how much revenue the project generated. They also wanted greater autonomy to decide how the community share is used.  

In 2023, Maasai, Samburu, Turkana, Rendile, and Borana pastoralist communities began organizing collectively across the entire 2 million hectare project area. For the first time, community land management committees gained access to the project implementation agreement that defined grazing management, structures for project governance, and arrangements for revenue sharing. Together, they drafted a set of shared demands for a new agreement with the project proponent. 

Their demands included access to financial records and contracts with marketers of carbon credits; a dedicated project bank account with communities as signatories into which all revenue from carbon credit sales would be deposited; and a new revenue-sharing arrangement that gives communities the majority of the revenue from the project. They also proposed a new governance structure that would include representatives from all of the community land management committees and community conservancies involved in the project. 

Communities putting forward their demands catalyzed a renegotiation of the project implementation agreement. It also kick-started a process for renewing free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) with wide participation among all residents in deciding whether to approve the terms of the new agreement. Sesia and its neighboring communities believe carbon projects present an opportunity, but only if their rights are fully protected and the project is aligned with their vision for the future.

Practical Strategies for Protecting Community Rights

The strategies that pastoralist communities in northern Kenya used to overcome common challenges reflect key lessons we’ve learned alongside frontline communities across dozens of countries: 

1- Demystify the law. Before communities engage with a project developer, they should learn about their rights under national land laws. Conservation policies and legal frameworks for carbon trading may also include protections for community rights. If the community’s land rights are not formally recognized, carbon projects can pose significant risks and it may be harder to negotiate a fair agreement. 

In addition to national laws, there are also safeguards required by carbon certification standards that communities can use to protect themselves. These often include rights to access information, to give or refuse consent for the project to operate on community land, and the right to benefit from outside investment on the community’s land.

2- Conduct fact finding. There are several key pieces of information that communities need to consider when determining if they want to engage in carbon credit projects. They include the type of project proposed; the track record of the project proponent; the impacts on land use, local ecosystems, and communities’ livelihoods and locations with cultural or spiritual significance; and the potential revenue from credit sales.

The project proponent is obligated to share much of this information with communities as part of FPIC. Still, communities often struggle to access the information they need to make decisions. To get the information communities need, they can:

• Request information, in as specific terms as possible, directly from the proponent in writing.
• Check national and global registries, like this one from Verra — one of the global standards that sets rules for carbon projects and issues carbon credits. Two particularly important documents to look for are (a) the project design document (PDD) and (b) monitoring and verification reports. 
• File right to information requests with the government agency responsible for approving and monitoring carbon projects. 

3- Use collective bargaining. Most carbon projects affect multiple communities. This creates an opportunity to build collective power. Communities are in a stronger position if they negotiate together as a united front. We have found two practices to be particularly powerful for collective bargaining:

• Form a negotiating team to represent the community’s (or communities’) collective interests. A negotiating team can maintain collective action across the community (or communities) and push for better terms that represent the interests of the community as a whole. The negotiating team can also be tasked with regularly updating the wider community, gathering input, and ensuring collective agreement on key decisions. 
• Identify the communities’ most important demands and use them to propose the terms for an agreement. Communities often wait for project developers to make an offer, but whoever makes the first offer tends to have an advantage because the initial proposal acts as a point of reference or “anchor” that shapes how both sides approach the negotiations. When communities put forward a proposal proactively, they have more power to shape the negotiations. 

4- Get legal support. Communities can successfully negotiate on their own, but it can be helpful to get support from community paralegals or lawyers at key steps, particularly during fact finding, when evaluating an offer, and for a final review of the draft contract to ensure it is enforceable and aligns with existing laws. Community paralegals or grassroots justice defenders can also walk with the community through the full process, from understanding the community’s rights to fact finding to negotiations to monitoring and enforcing any agreement that is reached.  

Together, these strategies can help communities engage from a position of power while reinforcing broader ongoing struggles for self-determination, land rights, and climate justice.

Building a Global Movement for Carbon Justice

Drawing on experience supporting communities to respond to carbon projects in more than 20 countries, members of the Grassroots Justice Network have launched a global campaign to put community rights and leadership at the center of carbon markets. Together, we identified six principles necessary to make carbon projects fair. 

The first principle is that carbon credits cannot be a substitute for companies reducing their own greenhouse gas emissions. The other five principles focus on the people who live where projects take place: respecting land and water rights; ensuring the right to FPIC, including the right to say no to proposed projects; advocating for the majority of revenue from carbon sales to go to communities for any projects on community land; recognizing and honoring communities’ leadership as land stewards; and ensuring that safeguards are effectively enforced.

We are actively working to bring the Carbon Justice Principles to life at the community, national, and global levels through peer learning and collective action.  First, we are creating practical tools and resources that Indigenous Peoples and frontline communities can use to overcome power imbalances with project developers. Members of our network distilled lessons from negotiations with carbon project developers through a nine-month series of learning circles. We recently compiled those insights in “How to Negotiate with Carbon Project Developers”, a practical toolkit that offers strategies communities can use to find key information about a project, negotiate from a place of power, and monitor and enforce the terms if an agreement is reached. It also includes case studies from Kenya, Liberia, Zambia, Brazil, Colombia, and the Philippines. 

We also developed Carbon Justice 101, an online course that provides a practical orientation to how carbon markets work and the risks and opportunities for communities. The course will be offered on a regular basis, with updates on how to enroll posted on the course webpage.

Second, we are advocating collectively to shape the rules that govern carbon markets. National laws on carbon trading can set crucial norms securing communities’ land rights, right to FPIC, and revenue sharing. We distilled practical guidance for civil society groups engaged in shaping national policy in a second toolkit: “How National Legislation Can Advance Carbon Justice”.

Global frameworks define standards for the wider carbon market. Guided by the carbon justice principles, Network members have advocated collectively for stricter rules under Verra and Article 6.4 of the Paris Agreement, the UN mechanism that will govern how countries and companies can trade international carbon credits while meeting their climate commitments. 

Join us in calling for stronger recognition of community leadership and protections for community rights. You can get involved in the carbon justice campaign by joining our WhatsApp community, signing up for our newsletter, or letting us know if you are planning to participate in key policy forums this year.

For more information on Carbon Justice 101.

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The post Putting the Leadership of Indigenous Peoples at the Center of Carbon Markets appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

Although much of the Ayoreo people have already been settled in missions and confined to small territorial enclaves, various groups have maintained their independence and autonomy from the colonising world thanks to the vastness of the forests. The silvícolas (“forest dwellers”), the “uncontacted”, the “isolated”, the “naked”, the pyta jovái, or simply the “wild Moros”, had not yet been affected by the transformations that would intensify in the decades to come. However, the conditions that enabled these groups to remain outside the dominant global system have been steadily eroded over the past twenty-five years.

Beyond protected wilderness areas, the Chaco has undergone rapid transformation under pressure from agribusiness, the hydrocarbon industry, mining and, more recently, the expansion of modern transport infrastructure. In 2000, the northern Chaco still retained 87 per cent of its native forests, savannahs and grasslands. Today, only 52 per cent remains: 42 per cent in the form of highly fragmented forests, much of which have largely lost their ecological function, and just 10 per cent within protected wilderness areas as more extensive forest remnants. It is no exaggeration to say that the northern Paraguayan Chaco is now little more than a scattered mosaic of what, only twenty-five years ago, constituted an invaluable natural heritage.

The Ayoreo People and the Last Transformation

Like other peoples of the Chaco, the Ayoreo understand the passage of time through profound transformations that are preserved in oral histories, ancestral memory and collective memory. What is taking place today may well be understood as “the last transformation”: a process through which the known world collapses and a new one emerges, becoming the point of departure from which the stories of the present begin to be told. Each transformation has entailed both the collapse of an existing world and the emergence of a new way of life. The memory of these catastrophic events strengthens the Ayoreo people’s capacity to adapt to new realities, overcome the trauma of upheaval and continue to exist as a people, transcending the pain and terror experienced by individuals during each transformation.

By tracking the movements of groups living in voluntary isolation, we can observe an ongoing process of adaptation to the changes affecting the forest and its conversion into vast cattle pastures. This does not necessarily imply acceptance of the new reality. Rather, it reflects forms of resistance and adjustment in the ways life and territory are lived and understood, while the territory itself has not yet lost its meaning as a being with whom humans interact. This latest transformation is still unfolding and the risk that it may become a final and irreversible stage is increasingly imminent.

Pressure from neighbouring landowners and new occupants is constant, forcing communities to sell their natural assets—converted into economic resources—or lease portions of their territories in order to survive.

Pressure from neighbouring landowners and new occupants is constant, forcing communities to sell their natural assets or lease portions of their territories in order to survive.

What’s more, a sequential analysis of the Land Use Plans submitted by landowners and companies to obtain environmental licences for their projects indicates that, if implemented, they will trigger an accelerated process of fragmentation over the next five years, far more severe than anything witnessed to date. The outlook towards 2030 is therefore deeply concerning for the individuals and groups of the Ayoreo people who continue to live apart from modern society. Nor does it offer much hope for those communities confined to small tracts of land owned either by themselves or by the Paraguayan Indigenous Institute (INDI).

Pressure from neighbouring landowners and new occupants is constant, forcing communities to sell their natural assets—converted into economic resources—or lease portions of their territories in order to survive. Far from providing a solution, this strategy often becomes a catalyst for internal conflict, social fragmentation and violence. The process of adapting to the world that has confined them has not yet fundamentally transformed their internal political organisation, which remains rooted in the family as the basic unit of survival and in forms of leadership shaped by the ability to engage with and navigate the Western world.

The Deepening of Extractivism

Over the past eight years, these transformations have intensified markedly as national extractivist policies have deepened and efforts have increased to identify new resources for export, attract investment and reposition Paraguay within the global economy. Successive governments—and particularly the administration of President Santiago Peña—have promoted an ambiguous agenda: while reinforcing international commitments to environmental protection and the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions, they have simultaneously expanded the exploration of mineral and hydrocarbon resources and sought to establish Paraguay among the world’s leading exporters of grain and beef.

These developments have profound consequences for the daily lives of both settled Ayoreo communities and groups living in voluntary isolation. As extractive activities continue to advance, they are left with ever fewer opportunities to shape their own future and define their own path in the face of this latest transformation.

Yet even today, vast areas of the Paraguayan Chaco remain under concession, sustained by the enduring promise of hydrocarbons in a world that is increasingly seeking to move beyond fossil fuels and transform its energy systems.

Yet even today, vast areas of the Paraguayan Chaco remain under concession, sustained by the enduring promise of hydrocarbons in a world that is increasingly seeking to move beyond fossil fuels and transform its energy systems.

A dozen rare earth and lithium exploration projects have spread across the Chaco, with little regard for the territorial rights of Indigenous Peoples and even less for the groups that continue to live in voluntary isolation. Approved by regulatory authorities, these projects are being carried out by four major companies belonging to the same corporate group, which dominates the exploration and extraction of rare minerals across the lowlands of the Americas. This wave of extractive activity also threatens the integrity of one of the region’s most fragile protected areas: Médanos del Chaco National Park.

Hydrocarbons have long served as a powerful driving development myth in the Paraguayan Chaco. Following Paraguay’s victory in the Chaco War in the 1930s—a conflict that claimed more than 90,000 lives—successive concessions were granted to foreign companies for exploration projects that ultimately proved unsuccessful. At best, these efforts led to the discovery of oil and gas reserves in quantities too small to justify the investments required for their extraction and transport. Yet even today, vast areas of the Paraguayan Chaco remain under concession, sustained by the enduring promise of hydrocarbons in a world that is increasingly seeking to move beyond fossil fuels and transform its energy systems.

The Road-Building Boom

The coup de grâce for the world of the Ayoreo groups living in voluntary isolation—and for the collapse of a millennia-old cultural landscape shaped by the many Indigenous Peoples of the Chaco, of whom these Ayoreo groups are the last to remain free and in resistance—is the current boom in road construction and transport infrastructure. The Capricorn Bioceanic Corridor is now being rapidly developed across the Paraguayan Chaco from east to west, with the aim of linking the major production centres of Mato Grosso do Sul and São Paulo to ports on the Pacific coast of Chile, facilitating trade with Asian markets.

This corridor directly affects the southern portion of Ayoreo territory and indirectly impacts the territory as a whole. From this main transport axis, a network of transversal roads has already been planned to connect agricultural and livestock production areas throughout the northern Chaco to the Pacific route. At the same time, road projects planned in Bolivia and western Brazil seek to connect the Brazilian state of Rondônia to the Pacific coast. These routes would run from north to south through some of the last remaining intangible territories set aside by the Charagua Indigenous Government of the Guaraní People in the Bolivian Chaco for Ayoreo groups living in voluntary isolation, beyond the boundaries of protected areas.

After more than three decades of advances in the recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ rights, Paraguay still has not formally recognised the presence of groups living in voluntary isolation within its territory who must be protected

After more than three decades of advances in the recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ rights, Paraguay still has not formally recognised the presence of groups living in voluntary isolation.

This road-building boom is not merely about more paved roads and increased vehicle traffic; it is also transforming the production model, with a strong trend in the northern Chaco towards a shift from extensive cattle ranching to intensive agriculture. For groups living in voluntary isolation, the consequences are drastic: water sources contaminated by agrochemicals, a decline in wildlife populations (a fundamental source of protein for the Ayoreo people), and air pollution in the remaining forest areas (the fragments that remain as refuges for life).

At the same time, these transformations are also reflected in the sphere of rights. After more than three decades of advances in the recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ rights, Paraguay still has not formally recognised the presence of groups living in voluntary isolation within its territory who must be protected and for whom conditions must be guaranteed so that they can continue living in accordance with their own self-determination. Nor has there been any improvement in the implementation of legislation relating to the rights of Indigenous Peoples who have already been colonised. The right to land and to access the territories necessary for sustaining their lives remains subordinated to the property rights of settlers and, increasingly, of agro-export companies that shape political priorities and decision-making in the northern Paraguayan Chaco.

The Ayoreo Worldview and the Ideologisation of Progress

Finally, it is worth noting that this great transformation, which is set to intensify in the coming years, is driven by the discourse of economic growth and so-called “progress”, which questions and ridicules the belief systems of the peoples of the Chaco and, especially, of the groups that continue to live in voluntary isolation. According to this belief system, everything in the world—living and non-living alike—is a person and must be treated with respect. For this reason, relationships and dialogue must be established in order to access the benefits that these beings may provide to human beings and to make use of them within a framework of respect, harmony and moderation.

In contrast to the accumulation that underpins an individualistic and self-interested liberal logic, this worldview promotes the principle of sharing in order to maintain a just and balanced social order. This ideologisation of “progress” fuels the voracious drive of the West to consume without restraint everything that exists on Earth and mocks Indigenous beliefs through the discourse of economic growth and the (false) needs created by the market. On the contrary, this belief system may offer humanity a way to avoid the destruction of the world—that is, the final stage of this last transformation.

Meanwhile, a quarter of a century into the third millennium, small groups of the Ayoreo people continue to resist and avoid contact with the agents of change that are pushing their world towards collapse and ruin. This steadfast resistance, shared by all groups living in voluntary isolation, emerges as the only hope to which they cling so that the forest does not close in and fall silent, and so that this transformation does not become definitive and final.

The post The Ayoreo People Confront Extractivism in the Paraguayan Chaco appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

In Sør-Varanger, the youngest national border is now 200 years old. The Sámi presence is much older. The history of the Skolt Sámi shows the human cost of power politics in the North. This explains why trust, rights and real participation matter when new decisions are made. The Sámi Climate Report from the Saami Council shows that ecosystems and livelihoods in Sápmi are already changing, seasonal patterns are less predictable, grazing conditions are shifting and the land is harder to read.

For those who depend on these systems, this is not a future scenario: it is a present condition. At the same time, measures to address climate change such as energy production, infrastructure and resource extraction are adding pressure to the same areas. Conflicts start when communities are forced to carry both the impact of climate change and the burden of the transition.

The best-preserved ecosystems in the world

The impact of extractivism on Sápmi territory has direct implications for biodiversity. In the Arctic, this is closely linked to land use over time. In Sámi areas, livelihoods such as reindeer herding depend on large, connected landscapes and the ability to adapt. When land is fragmented, both ecosystems and practices are affected.

International research reflects this. The Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) shows that ecosystems managed by Indigenous Peoples are often among the best preserved globally. As one assessment notes, “Nature managed by Indigenous Peoples is degrading less rapidly than in other lands.”

In this regard, IPBES also recognizes Indigenous concepts as part of its knowledge framework. In a Sámi context, this includes birgejupmi—the ability to manage, adapt and live well within the limits of available resources over time. This is not a separate environmental measure. It is a way of relating to land and responsibility, developed over time. Protecting biodiversity therefore requires protecting the conditions that make this stewardship possible.

Extractive projects without prior consultation

Faced with this context, the question is how decisions under these circumstances are made. Across the Arctic, major projects are moving forward in or near Indigenous areas. The issue is not whether development should happen but how it happens and when participation takes place: too often, consultation comes late. By then, the decision is already made. There is still a process albeit with limited influence.

This is visible in Sápmi, in Northern Norway. The mining project at Nussir involves plans for copper extraction in a Sámi area, including disposal of mining waste in a fjord used for fisheries. The project is following formal procedures but concerns are being raised as to the long-term impacts on marine ecosystems and local livelihoods. In addition, the electrification of Melkøya involves replacing gas-based energy at a major Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) plant with electricity from the mainland grid. While framed as a climate measure, it requires large amounts of power and has triggered further development and infrastructure.

When the direction changes, trust changes. Projects can be formally correct and still lack legitimacy among those affected. This is where consultation becomes critical.

When the direction changes, trust changes. Projects can be formally correct and still lack legitimacy among those affected. This is where consultation becomes critical.

In both the Nussir mining and the Melkøya electrification projects, decisions follow formal procedures but remain contested in practice. The conflict is not only about the projects themselves but about how decisions are made and when influence occurs. In the Melkøya case, the project was first presented as a broader effort: climate measures, power development and regional stability. These elements later became treated as separate processes.

Formally, this is consistent but, in practice, it is not experienced that way. People do not experience governance in steps. They experience the total impact of direction and processes that are designed to reach a specific goal in advance. When the direction changes, trust changes. Projects can be formally correct and still lack legitimacy among those affected. This is where consultation becomes critical. However, consultation is often placed late in the process, when key decisions have already been made. What remains is adjustment, not influence.

Trust, legitimacy and security

When decisions are settled before participation is real, consultation cannot build legitimacy subsequently. This is not only a legal issue; it is a question of stability. The Arctic is increasingly being framed as a security region but stability is not created by presence alone. It depends on trust. And when developments are experienced as externally driven, distance grows between institutions and communities. Over time, this weakens stability. Legitimacy is therefore a condition for security.

For Indigenous communities, security is broader. It includes access to land, food systems, language and livelihoods. These are a part of biodiversity, not separate from it. Resilience is lived in our communities. Sápmi is also cross-border. Sámi communities in Russia are already affected by war and violations of international law. This makes security an immediate and concrete question. Decisions taken in one place can have direct effects elsewhere. In this situation, participation cannot be formal alone, it has to be effective.

For those shaping Arctic policy, the direction needs to be clear: participation must come early, alternatives must be real, and knowledge must be shared. Disagreement must be addressed before decisions are final.

For those shaping Arctic policy, the direction needs to be clear: participation must come early, alternatives must be real, and knowledge must be shared. Disagreement must be addressed before decisions are final.

If Indigenous rights are to function in practice, participation must come earlier, before key choices are made. It must include real influence, especially where land use, livelihoods and ecosystems are affected. This does not replace State authority. It makes Indigenous rights workable in practice. Participation also requires capacity. Indigenous institutions need access to independent knowledge in order to assess impacts on equal terms. Without this, participation becomes formal rather than real.

As can be seen, clear expectations will improve outcomes. And good processes will reduce conflict, strengthen decisions, and build trust. For those shaping Arctic policy, the direction needs to be clear: participation must come early, alternatives must be real, and knowledge must be shared. Disagreement must be addressed before decisions are final. Decisions must be recognized by the people they affect. That is where acceptance comes from. Not from information alone but from real participation and influence.

The post Climate, Land and Legitimacy in the Arctic: Governance and Biodiversity in a Time of Pressure appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

There, 24 countries reacted to the fact that the main decision – the Mutirão decision – omitted any direct reference to fossil fuels, reflecting opposition from several producer countries and persistent divisions among negotiating blocs. In response, these countries issued the Belém Declaration on the Just Transition Away from Fossil Fuels, calling for coordinated and collective action among states to expedite the phase-out of fossil fuels and to anchor climate action in science-based and rights-based approaches.

Meeting the objectives of the Paris Agreement and fulfilling States’ obligations to protect the environment – including through measures addressing fossil fuel production, licensing and subsidies – will require unprecedented international cooperation to ensure that no country or community is left behind. According the organisers, the conference was guided by a set of principles centred on action, scientific evidence and inclusive participation. It was conceived as a space for governments and stakeholders already committed to advancing a just, orderly and equitable transition away from fossil fuels, prioritising implementation and practical solutions rather than further diagnosis or persuasion.

A Climate Conference Focused on Fossil Fuels

The conference was also structured around three thematic pillars: overcoming economic dependence on fossil fuels, including fiscal dependence, energy security and economic diversification; transforming both supply and demand, through measures such as phasing out key demand drivers, managing exploration and extraction licensing, planning for the closure of fossil fuel infrastructure and redirecting subsidies towards clean energy investment; and advancing international cooperation and multilateralism to close governance and implementation gaps and address barriers in international law and finance that constrain the transition.

Unlike many previous climate summits, which often address multiple agenda items across mitigation, adaptation and finance, this event was singularly focused on fossil fuels. It aimed to convene governments, civil society, Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant communities, workers, youth, academia and private actors to co-design viable policies and roadmaps for moving beyond fossil energy.

This focus is critical because fossil fuels remain the single largest driver of global greenhouse gas emissions. Without targeted strategies to reduce both their production and use, limiting warming to 1.5°C is increasingly out of reach. Government projections indicate that planned fossil fuel production would exceed levels consistent with the Paris Agreement by more than 120% by 2030, and by 2050 output could be around 4.5 times higher than what is compatible with a 1.5°C pathway. These projections highlight the urgency of coordinated global action to phase out coal, oil and gas.

Implications for Indigenous Peoples’ Rights

One of the central aims of the conference was to convene a multi-stakeholder space bringing together governments, experts, civil society, and Indigenous and Afro-descendant peoples to exchange perspectives on pathways for a just transition. The conference was explicitly designed as a forum for dialogue and agenda-setting, where proposals—including the possible creation of a global expert panel to accelerate the transition away from fossil fuels—were put forward, though not formally adopted.. While this inclusive framing acknowledged Indigenous Peoples’ role and created some opportunities for their participation and visibility, it did not in itself establish concrete safeguards, decision-making authority, or accountability mechanisms to ensure that Indigenous rights are upheld in the transition process.

For example, Indigenous Peoples were recognised in the conference’s opening ceremony. Before the president, members of the Arhuaco Indigenous community from the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta—who have a long history of protecting their ancestral territories from external development—opened the event with a traditional harmonisation ritual, a spiritual ceremony conducted in their language and accompanied by ancestral instruments.

A number of themes relevant to Indigenous Peoples were raised, including the need for meaningful participation in shaping transition strategies, recognition of Indigenous knowledge, and concerns about the socioeconomic impacts.

A number of themes relevant to Indigenous Peoples were raised, including the need for meaningful participation in shaping transition strategies, recognition of Indigenous knowledge, and concerns about the socioeconomic impacts.

In parallel, Indigenous delegations from the Amazon and other regions arrived at the conference explicitly to press for stronger action, reflecting long-standing frustration with the lack of meaningful commitments under global climate processes and calling for a rights-based transition that addresses the root causes of the crisis. However, these elements remained at the level of advocacy and political pressure, rather than commitments endorsed by states.

Rather than adopting negotiated outcomes, the Conference functioned primarily as a political and agenda-setting space that “will not yield binding agreements”. Within this context, a number of themes relevant to Indigenous Peoples were raised—particularly through Indigenous interventions—including the need for meaningful participation in shaping transition strategies, the importance of grounding energy transitions in human rights and justice frameworks, recognition of Indigenous knowledge and leadership, and concerns about the socioeconomic impacts of fossil fuel phase-out in affected territories. Indigenous representatives also stressed the importance of being included in any future efforts to define global pathways for ending fossil fuel extraction.

Conference Opportunities and Expectations

Indigenous representatives called on the Conference to explicitly reject the reproduction of extractive violence through “green” mining and to address the structural barriers to justice.Indigenous Peoples from the seven socio-cultural regions presented a consolidated position structured around the conference’s three pillars. Their proposals emphasise full respect for the right to self-determination and FPIC; legal protection of their territories, lands and waters; an end to both old and emerging forms of extractivism, including “green” mining and geoengineering; direct, accessible and sustained climate finance for Indigenous-led just transition strategies; and recognition of Indigenous knowledge systems and governance as foundational to climate action.

They further called for these standards and proposals to be explicitly reflected in the Conference’s final report, including minimum safeguards to ensure meaningful participation with decision-making power, protection for Indigenous defenders, traceability of transition-related investments, and guarantees for Indigenous energy security and sovereignty.

Participating countries agreed to develop national “roadmaps” to guide the transition away from oil, gas and coal, signalling a move from broad commitments to more operational planning.

Participating countries agreed to develop national “roadmaps” to guide the transition away from oil, gas and coal, signalling a move from broad commitments to more operational planning.

The conference signalled a partial shift in framing, with Indigenous Peoples acknowledged in the co-host “takeaways” document as participants in the process and, in some instances, as relevant actors in areas such as access to finance and community-level energy solutions. However, this recognition remains limited and largely instrumental: Indigenous Peoples are referenced alongside a broad range of stakeholders, with only cursory attention to their specific rights and roles. Notably, the document stops short of embedding core principles such as self-determination, FPIC, or the protection of Indigenous territories and governance systems as foundational to the transition. As a result, while the language gestures toward inclusion, it does not yet reflect a rights-based approach that positions Indigenous Peoples as central decision-makers in shaping equitable transition pathways.

Participating countries agreed to develop national “roadmaps” to guide the transition away from oil, gas and coal, signalling a move from broad commitments to more operational planning. Key outcomes included the establishment of three dedicated workstreams—on roadmaps, macroeconomic and financial dependencies, and producer–consumer alignment—alongside the launch of an international scientific panel to support evidence-based policymaking. The conference placed particular emphasis on the need to address the structural drivers of fossil fuel dependence, including fiscal constraints, debt burdens and asymmetries in the global financial architecture, underscoring that the transition requires far-reaching economic transformation rather than sectoral change alone.

Looking Ahead

While no binding agreements were adopted, the First International Conference on the Transition Away from Fossil Fuels convened more than 50 countries in a shared effort and helped reframe the global conversation towards concrete next steps, including subsidy reform, financial restructuring and strengthened international cooperation. Crucially, it underscored that the central challenge is no longer whether to phase out fossil fuels, but how to do so in ways that are coordinated, economically viable and grounded in justice — particularly for Indigenous Peoples and other frontline communities whose lands and livelihoods are most directly at stake.

The conference opened a potential new political space in global climate governance, placing fossil fuel phase-out at the centre of international discussion and foregrounding questions of justice, debt and development. Yet, as the cases presented make clear, political momentum alone is insufficient without structural accountability.

Indigenous Peoples were influential in shaping the tone and framing of the event, helping shift the discourse toward territorial justice, the limits of carbon markets, and the risks of “green extractivism”. Nevertheless, their influence remains uneven: they were not structurally embedded in decision-making processes, and no binding commitments emerged to safeguard their rights.

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