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 is 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.

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.

By upholding North American Indigenous Peoples as the benchmark, it welcomes the idea that Western imperialism is an acceptable model towards the progress of Indigenous rights. It is not. At Indigenous Climate Action (ICA), we stand in opposition to the narrative that Indigenous Peoples can and should be absorbed into these colonial systems, as opposed to recognizing Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination through the revitalization of their own governance systems. Rather than absorbing Indigenous Peoples into these colonial frameworks, it is critical to uplift Indigenous solutions and governance models.

The Decolonizing Climate Policy research project responds to this need by investigating the shortcomings and problems associated with Canadian climate policy while supporting and developing Indigenous-led climate strategies – governance approaches created by and for Indigenous Peoples that will raise up and empower Indigenous-led solutions.

Barriers to participation

Colonialism has severed many Indigenous Peoples from their traditional territories and knowledge systems, making it harder for communities to practice sustainable land stewardship. The report from Phase One of Decolonizing Climate Policy investigated Canada’s climate policy and planning frameworks. Our analysis focused on two previous federal climate plans: the Pan Canadian Framework on Clean Growth and Climate Change (PCF), and A Healthy Environment and Healthy Economy (HEHE). It aimed to determine whether these plans, and climate policy and planning in Canada more broadly, meaningfully include Indigenous rights, knowledge and approaches in addressing the root causes of the climate crisis.

What we found is that both the process by which the plans were developed and the proposed policies and actions contained within them are flawed in their efficacy for driving real action, the ability to drive a just transition, and the relationships between Canada and Indigenous Peoples. While both the PCF and the HEHE plans frequently reference the role of Indigenous Peoples in addressing the climate crisis, there was no indication of meaningful inclusion in the development of these plans. Our findings indicate that Indigenous Peoples were structurally excluded from the process of developing them, violating their rights to self-determination and FPIC, as recognized and affirmed within Canadian and international law.

“Indigenous Peoples were kept off the working group tables deliberately so they would not impact the politics of keeping fossil fuels coming out of the ground by implementing carbon pricing,” observes Tamra Gilbertson.

“Indigenous Peoples were kept off the working group tables deliberately so they would not impact the politics of keeping fossil fuels,” observes Tamra Gilbertson.

Furthermore, some of the solutions promoted in these plans ignore the realities faced by Indigenous Peoples and overlook the structural inequalities continuously reproduced through colonial relations and oppressive structures in Canada. The report outlines the barriers to Indigenous-led climate policy, such as forced disconnection from the land, the devaluation of Indigenous knowledge, and systemic exclusion from policy-making processes. To make matters worse, some of the proposed actions and initiatives in these plans risk negative impacts on Indigenous Peoples and violations of Indigenous rights.

This is observed by the Indigenous activist and scholar Tamra Gilbertson in Decolonizing Climate Policy in Canada (2021): “Indigenous Peoples were kept off the working group tables deliberately so they would not impact the politics of keeping fossil fuels coming out of the ground by implementing carbon pricing…Keeping Indigenous Peoples off the working group tables and treating Indigenous Peoples as stakeholders is a violation of national and international law. This gross violation impacts Indigenous sovereignty and blatantly clarifies the intent to reduce Indigenous Peoples to stakeholders in an attempt to coerce and strong-arm participation in order to push through carbon pricing systems and other mechanisms that can violate land rights and sovereignty.”

The reproduction of colonialism by climate policy

By highlighting the ways in which settler-led climate policy upholds colonial structures and excludes Indigenous governance systems, we established the importance of including Indigenous perspectives in climate policy-making – it must prioritize reciprocal relationships with the land and all living beings. These elements of Indigenous relationality are often ignored or overridden by settler policies that prioritize economic gain over environmental and cultural sustainability.

From the report, it becomes clear that colonial policies restrict access to traditional lands, impede cultural practices, and limit the ability to pass down knowledge to future generations. There is a call for decolonizing these systems and reasserting Indigenous governance and protocols as the foundation for climate policy.

The colonization process, in which Indigenous lands were stolen and ecosystems altered, laid the groundwork for the climate crisis we face today. However, Indigenous Peoples are the ones offering solutions to combat climate change.

The colonization process, in which Indigenous lands were stolen and ecosystems altered, laid the foundation for the climate crisis we face today.

It is worth noting that this sentiment of structural exclusion of Indigenous Peoples from the development and advancement of laws, policies and legislation in the Canadian context is mirrored globally. This was stated by the International Indigenous Peoples Forum on Climate Change (IIPFCC) in a statement at COP26, Glasgow: “Indigenous Peoples are affected first and worst by climate change and colonial climate action, yet we drive critical climate solutions rooted in our relationships with the living world. In exercising our protection on the frontlines, we face criminalization, human rights violations, and assassination. And in the COPs, we are excluded from decision making on issues that affect us the most.”

The call for colonial bodies to uplift and uphold the rights of Indigenous Peoples and the naming of colonialism as a root cause of climate change and Indigenous subjugation are repeated by various groups, among them the IIPFCC: “COP26 and future COPs must ensure the participation of Indigenous Peoples, including those of us with multiple intersections of identity. Colonialism caused climate change. Our Rights and Traditional Knowledge are the solution.”

As the recognition of Indigenous Peoples continues to grow and expand, there is a concerted effort to contextualize what this means beyond words and empty promises and to drive forward a decolonial framework for Indigenous Peoples across the world.

Indigenous rights are the solution

For many Indigenous Peoples, the impacts of climate change began at first contact. The process of colonization, in which Indigenous lands were stolen and ecosystems disrupted, laid the groundwork for the climate crisis we are seeing today. Yet, it is the inherent rights and ways of life of Indigenous Peoples that offer critical solutions to combating climate change. Despite this, there still remains a heavy reliance on colonial science and governance to drive the strategies for achieving climate stabilization.

In the report Decolonizing Climate Policy in Canada, ICA Executive Director, Dënesųłine, from the Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation | Boreal Forest Biome, Eriel Tchekwie Deranger, explains it as follows: “A lot of the colonial policies are very human-centric and about upholding universal human rights and freedoms to the individual. Ultimately, if we don’t have species, and relationships on the land to support thriving communities, and cultures and nations, then those policies are just simply words on paper.”

This truth highlights the necessity of reinvigorating, practicing and sharing the long-held traditions of land stewardship that Indigenous Peoples have maintained since time immemorial. Phase Two of Decolonizing Climate Policy was launched to better understand the priorities, needs and visions for the future towards addressing the climate crisis. The responses underscored a key message: Indigenous knowledge and governance must be at the heart of climate action. This sentiment is echoed globally, where Indigenous Peoples have repeatedly called for inclusion to be created in the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) processes.

Impacts on Indigenous communities

Temperature measurements across Canada show that we are experiencing warming at twice the global rate. Between 1948 and 2016, mean temperatures increased by 1.7°C for all of Canada and 2.3°C in the North, with the number of very hot days tripling over this period. During our conversations, many Indigenous Peoples shared how they are experiencing the impacts of climate change first-hand. Twenty-five percent of the people we spoke to reported observing extreme weather events, such as storms and droughts. Others noted that the weather is becoming warmer and drier, and with noticeable shifts in the seasons.

Water quality emerged as a big concern, with one-third of participants expressing worries about reduced snowpack, decreased availability of freshwater, and water contamination (for example, by hydro dams). These disruptions to water systems affect wildlife, generate loss of vegetation, and reduce water life populations, impacting entire ecosystems and food security for communities (especially access to traditional hunting and gathering practices).

Climate change impacts on water, housing, health and access to food are exacerbating Indigenous communities’ pre-existing challenges, including food insecurity and access to health services.

Climate change impacts on water, housing, health and access to food are exacerbating Indigenous communities’ pre-existing challenges.

As Hanna Paul of the Métis Nation of Alberta (Boreal Forest Biome) shared: “Flooding and fires have devastated my community and climate change has a massive hand in that. It’s impacted trap lines, hunting, and harvesting.” These events not only disrupt day-to-day life but they also make it harder for people to get out onto the land and hunt, pick berries, and harvest medicines. Climate change is also threatening the health and safety of Indigenous communities in several ways. Changes in water levels are making it harder to travel in and out of island communities, and severe weather is causing the erosion of roadings, posing major safety concerns.

The impacts of climate change on our water, housing, health, and access to food are compounding pre-existing challenges in our communities, including food insecurity, access to healthcare services, and beyond. Overall, this is affecting the mental, physical and spiritual health of many communities.

Looking forward: an Indigenous-led climate policy

Every day, Indigenous youth embody what it means to decolonize climate policy, exercising their rights and asserting themselves as leaders in climate action. They are hopeful for the future, emphasizing the need to center their voices in climate conversations and the potential they have to challenge current systems. They want to restore their connection to land and water as inherent in climate policy.

Indigenous youth stories contain teachings about our connections to plants, waters and animals. These instructions and responsibilities are not merely cultural customs or views: they are our laws and have never been extinguished. The youth also share what climate policy could look like if it were led by Indigenous Peoples and rooted in our worldviews, laws, governance systems and relationships with the land and its transformative potential for all.

Decolonizing climate policy means creating policies by and for Indigenous Peoples that work towards advancing and strengthening their rights, knowledge and perspectives.

Decolonizing climate policy means creating policies by and for Indigenous Peoples that work towards advancing and strengthening their rights, knowledge and perspectives.

Phase Two concludes with concrete ways to shift political and economic systems in order to weaken the grasp of colonial control and make space for Indigenous land-based solutions to emerge, take hold and flourish, and build new economic and political systems. A decolonized approach to climate policy must empower communities to draw from their ancestral knowledge to develop laws that support their cultural survival and thrivance. This approach counters the notion of a blanketed “Indigenous policy”, instead recognizing the need for policies that respect the diverse governance systems, knowledge, and contributions of each Nation.

Decolonizing Climate Policy means policy created by and for Indigenous Peoples that works towards the advancement and uplifting of our rights, knowledge and perspectives. It means demanding the inclusion of Indigenous voices in aspects, and all levels, of climate policy-making and suggests that current policies must be reimagined to respect Indigenous sovereignty and prioritize relationships with the land. It is critical to ensuring that just climate solutions are brought forward to address the legacy of harm caused by colonization and the climate crisis. Decolonization is not a responsibility meant to be held just by Indigenous Peoples, it is an effort that requires joint collaboration.

The post The Decolonizing Climate Policy Project appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

The Ujamaa Community Resource Team (UCRT) addresses these challenges by supporting communities to secure Certificates of Village Land (CVLs) and communal Certificates of Customary Right of Occupancy (CCROs), which are crucial steps in land tenure security. CVLs are obtained once neighbouring villages have reached agreement on their respective outer boundaries and sometimes require the resolution of existing conflicts. After completing a land-use plan, areas for common use, such as grazing, hunting, and gathering, are titled with a CCRO.

These legal tools provide Indigenous communities with the means to control and manage their lands sustainably. By promoting connectivity and traditional land-use practices, such as rotational grazing, the Ujamaa Community Resource Team helps communities adapt to climate change impacts such as severe droughts, which are increasingly common in northern Tanzania’s arid regions.

Strengthening governance for sustainable resource management

Securing land rights is just the beginning. Effective resource management requires accountable governance institutions that integrate customary practices with formal legal frameworks. The Ujamaa Community Resource Team advocates for transparent and equitable governance structures that empower communities to make collective decisions about their land and resources. This approach not only ensures sustainable management of natural resources but also supports the preservation of cultural practices and traditional knowledge.

UCRT’s efforts include facilitating Participatory Village Land-Use Plans (PVLUPs) and Joint Village Land-Use Plans (JVLUPs) in order to promote coordinated management of shared resources. These plans enhance the connectivity of rangelands, enabling both livestock and wildlife to move freely across the landscape. This is crucial for maintaining ecological balance and resilience against climate impacts.

The capacity-building approach not only improves climate resilience but also increases food security and reduces poverty by diversifying income sources through entrepreneurship.

The capacity-building approach not only improves climate resilience but also increases food security and reduces poverty.

Furthermore, one of the Ujamaa Community Resource Team’s core objectives is to build community capacity for responsible environmental stewardship. By promoting practices such as sustainable rangeland management and integrating scientific knowledge with traditional approaches, UCRT helps communities create healthier ecosystems that are more resilient to climate change. For instance, in the Longido district, they are working with communities to improve the management of over 400,000 hectares of rangelands, benefiting both the environment and local livelihoods.

Through these initiatives, UCRT empowers communities to take proactive steps in adapting to climate variability, such as developing strategies for water conservation and soil erosion control. This capacity-building approach not only enhances climate resilience but also improves food security and reduces poverty by diversifying income sources through nature-based enterprises such as eco-tourism and carbon projects, which are developed in alliance with external actors.

Promoting Inclusive Governance and Social Equity

Equitable resource management is crucial for sustainable development. Accordingly, UCRT places a strong emphasis on empowering marginalized groups, women, and youth. Through the Women’s Rights and Leadership Forums (WRLFs), UCRT’s inclusive approach fosters social influence, economic empowerment, skills development opportunities, strengthened community institutions and fair governance of resources.

By ensuring that all community members have a voice in decision-making processes, UCRT aims to create governance systems that are not only effective but also just. This inclusive model supports the broader goal of achieving equitable land rights and resource management, which are essential for building resilient communities capable of withstanding the impacts of climate change.

By collaborating with national networks such as PINGOs Forum and Tanzania Land Alliance, UCRT amplifies the voices of Indigenous communities and lobbies for policy changes that reflect their needs and priorities.

By collaborating with national networks such as PINGOs Forum and Tanzania Land Alliance, UCRT amplifies the voices of Indigenous communities and lobbies for policy changes that reflect their needs and priorities.

UCRT’s work in securing land rights and promoting sustainable resource management is vital for the resilience of Indigenous communities in Tanzania. By linking land tenure security with climate resilience, UCRT provides a model of how Indigenous-led conservation can support both human and environmental well-being. As the challenges of climate change and land alienation intensify, the need for such community-driven approaches becomes ever more critical.

UCRT’s advocacy efforts are amplified at the national level through its collaboration with national organizations such as PINGOs Forum and Tanzania Land Alliance. They also extend beyond Tanzania’s borders: its members are engaged in international platforms such as the Local Communities and Indigenous Peoples Platform of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). These engagements aim to share best practices on community-based Indigenous climate resilience strategies, influence policy at multiple levels and ensure that Indigenous perspectives are included in global climate governance discussions.

The post A Pathway to Climate Resilience for Indigenous Communities in Tanzania appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

Focusing on a national and regional context, Indigenous communities play an essential role in the efforts to combat the climate crisis. Well-known for their intrinsic relationship with the environment and their territories, Indigenous ancient knowledge systems and science have contributed to keeping the natural cycles and the climate balanced. In the Amazon, Indigenous Lands have low deforestation rates (>2%), making these areas fundamental to halting forest loss and keeping carbon in the soil. The average temperature of the Indigenous territories of the Brazilian Amazon is also two degrees lower, and evapotranspiration can be three times higher than that of pastures and monocultures in the surrounding areas.

Although Indigenous Peoples are crucial to mitigating the climate crisis, they are more exposed to its impacts because of their interdependence on natural resources. With the change in rain pattern, the risk of losing their crops increases, resulting in food insecurity. In previous years, whole communities were isolated due to the severe drought in the Amazon, which limited their access to essential goods and resources. Additionally, structural racism adds another barrier that excludes Indigenous communities from the decision-making processes where climate solutions are defined, such as the drafting of the National Adaptation Plans (NAP).

Brazilian National Adaptation Plan

In 2016, Brazil launched its first version of the NAPe. At the time, the recently constituted Indigenous Committee on Climate Change (Comitê Indígena de Mudanças Climáticas – CIMC) participated in several meetings to present its input to this new public policy. Nonetheless, the format of the Brazilian NAP allocated Indigenous Peoples to the “Vulnerable Population and Peoples” sector. CIMC, the National Indigenous Foundation (FUNAI), and other civil society organizations such as the Amazon Environmental Research Institute (IPAM) contributed to the design of the “Vulnerable Population and Peoples” sub-chapter, following the limitations imposed at the time.

The current political momentum has shown more eagerness to embrace Indigenous Peoples at the same level as other sectors in reviewing the Brazilian NAP. The Ministry of Indigenous Peoples (MPI) is among the 25 ministries redesigning the NAP process. Under the leadership of the minister, Sonia Guajajara, an internationally-renowned Indigenous leader, MPI brought together Indigenous organizations and representatives to shape the Indigenous Peoples sector.

Under the leadership of Minister Sonia Guajajara, an internationally-renowned Indigenous leader, the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples brought together Indigenous organizations and representatives to shape the Indigenous Peoples sector.

Under the leadership of Minister Sonia Guajajara, the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples brought together Indigenous Peoples’ organizations to shape the Indigenous Peoples sector.

However, even with the Articulation of Indigenous Peoples of Brazil (APIB) involved in the process, some Indigenous representatives found it challenging to contribute because the NAP had a rigid schedule and its methodology restricted the participation of many.

Expected to be released by the end of 2024, the new Brazilian NAP has advanced considerably in content and engagement. And yet the Indigenous organizations’ expectations may not be met due to the participation format afforded them. Fewer than 30 Indigenous representatives were able to attend the workshop aimed at aggregating their perspectives on this climate policy. While those who could not be present had a chance to deliver their contribution through an open platform, most communities lack connectivity, restricting their participation in the process.

Indigenous Peoples’ autonomous strategies

Long before the Brazilian government or the international bodies had established the need to build national adaptation strategies, Indigenous Peoples were organizing themselves in various ways to fight the impacts of climate change. The Indigenous Council of Roraima (CIR) is a model of how Indigenous Peoples excel at combining their ancestral knowledge with non-Indigenous science.

Located in the north-east part of the Brazilian Amazon, the ethnic region of Serra da Lua covers three Indigenous territories and has served as a case study for climate change actions. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, three extreme weather events hit these communities hard. First, a severe drought, followed by wildfires, devastated a significant proportion of the native vegetation within the Indigenous villages. Then, in 2011, the most important river of Roraima overflowed, breaking historical records.

The Indigenous Council of Roraima (CIR) is a model of how Indigenous Peoples excel at combining their ancestral knowledge with non-Indigenous science.

The Indigenous Council of Roraima (CIR) is a model of how Indigenous Peoples excel at combining their ancestral knowledge with non-Indigenous science.

Faced with these situations, CIR developed a case study on how Indigenous Peoples perceive climate change and what mechanisms they have to fight it. After three years of intensive work, the publication “Amazad Pana’Adinhan” presents the socio-environmental context of these territories and their calendar according to the natural cycles. The study closes with a chapter dedicated to presenting their plans to fight the consequences of climate change. It maps the most frequent impacts, how and when they will promote specific climate actions, and, finally, shares the responsibilities out among the community and its partners.

Because of its importance, this experience was mentioned in the first Brazilian NAP as an example of how Indigenous Peoples can promote adaptation actions. In 2023, during the 58^th session of the Subsidiary Body for Scientific and Technological Advice of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, this study re-emerged as a key model.

Closing remarks

The current Brazilian NAP shows significant advancement compared to its previous version. It includes Indigenous Peoples at the same level as other sectors and invites Indigenous representative organizations to be a part of the process. Its lifespan, foreseen to be active until 2035, also demonstrates the political will to incorporate its goals as a pivotal State policy.

Nevertheless, it still carries old vices on how to build a public policy, which limits full engagement. Climate issues are complex themes that few are acquainted with. In this sense, if there is to be effective public participation from civil society, it is fundamental to create a robust baseline with which to harvest fruitful collaboration. Although the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples legitimately led the process, Indigenous grassroots organizations had little room to contribute directly with their on-the-ground initiatives like the one presented by the Indigenous Council of Roraima.

The current political cycle is proving supportive of a progressive agenda; however, actual changes in public policies are a long journey. It took more than 500 years for Indigenous Peoples in Brazil to have their own Ministry. The question is: how many more will be needed to decolonize climate policies?

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Our region’s experience nevertheless also offers responses that have arisen outside the frame of action of the States. The history of peoples and communities confronting environmental transformations is a long one and, since the 1990s, political organization has become especially relevant with the intensification of extractivism in the region. A number of translocalized organizations have stood up for environmental justice by demanding self-determination, a struggle that has today also taken on the name of climate justice.

In this scenario, Indigenous women of different territorial origins have been the protagonists in promoting grassroots organizations. Through their collective organization and deep knowledge of their environments, they have managed to preserve ways of life that are interdependent with nature and threatened by the climate crisis. In addition, their contributions and careers transcend their territories: they are notable professionals in the environmental, legal and social sciences, and occupy roles as academics, public officials and community leaders. This plurality of experiences has allowed them to coordinate politically and to weave collaborative networks with other actors.

Capacity building for advocacy

One of Indigenous women’s main strategies for advocacy has been training. Long-standing organizations such as the Organization of Indigenous and Amazonian Women of Peru (ONAMIAP) the Indigenous Women’s Network on Biodiversity and the National Coordinating Committee of Indigenous Women in Chile have established initiatives by which to strengthen their leadership and actions, and build their capacities.

Through their own experiences in different local, national and global decision-making spaces, Indigenous women are exchanging knowledge and tools and publicizing the barriers they face. Based on the collective history of their peoples, they have thus improved their participation at the territorial, community and public policy levels, and have succeeded in establishing discussions in legislative debates, Indigenous consultations, international meetings and in the communities themselves.

Capacity building from their own worldview generates a recognition of their knowledge as valid, both in its heterogeneity and in its dynamism.

Capacity building from their own worldview generates a recognition of their knowledge as valid, both in its heterogeneity and in its dynamism.

Capacity building from their own worldview generates a recognition of their knowledge as valid, both in its heterogeneity and in its dynamism. This process allows for a collective and dialogical construction based on an exchange between different epistemes, with emphasis on those they consider their own (such as traditional and Indigenous knowledge). This dialogue is possible because of the collaboration between actors, and it enables the forging of networks between Indigenous women and communities, institutions, multilateral agencies, research centres and different organizations.

This collaboration has nurtured their advocacy strategies and allowed them to position their thematic priorities and ways of working in order to address climate justice. At the same time, it provides them with tools that make it possible to reduce the gender gaps in their dialogue with institutions (as well as in the territories), and which strengthen actions at the community level.

A climate change training and advocacy school with Indigenous women

In Chile, responses to the climate crisis have followed the broad outlines of international negotiations. However, the inclusion of Indigenous Peoples in climate governance, as recommended by the COP, still encounters a number of barriers: a detailed analysis of national climate change policy reveals only marginal participation on the part of Indigenous Peoples. Firstly, they are presented as a homogeneous group and the gender dimension is therefore ignored. Secondly, the participatory State bodies relevant to them have been hurriedly improvised, without providing their members with the necessary skills for effective participation.

The scenario is consequently an alarming one given that climate policies in Chile are reproducing Indigenous women’s situation of exclusion. As if this were not enough, they ignore the role that, through their local knowledge, these women could play in managing climate change. Failing to take concrete measures for their inclusion runs the risk of increasing their climate vulnerability.

The objective of the School is to promote a dialogue on situated knowledge, emphasizing the experiences of Indigenous women, the effects of the climate crisis on their territories and the lessons learned from this.

The objective of the School is for Indigenous women to influence climate governance from an understanding that this is not the exclusive task of State institutions.

The School for Training and Advocacy with Indigenous Women on Climate Change seeks to respond to this context of unequal participation. It is an initiative created collaboratively by the National Coordinating Committee of Indigenous Women and the Inter-thematic Working Group on Climate Change, Public Policies and Indigenous Peoples of the Center for Intercultural and Indigenous Research (CIIR). Its origin dates back to 2021 in the context of advocacy work on the draft Framework Law on Climate Change in Chile, a law that completed its legislative process without Indigenous consultation or differentiated participation for Indigenous Peoples.

The objective of the School is for Indigenous women to influence climate governance from an understanding that this is not the exclusive task of State institutions. It is also to promote the construction of and dialogue on situated knowledge, emphasizing the experiences of Indigenous women, the effects of the climate crisis on their territories and the lessons learned from this. Ultimately, the School hopes to contribute to the political coordination and networking of different actors committed to climate and social justice.

Overcoming gaps from their own experiences

In its four virtual and in-person versions, this training space has connected almost 100 individuals, organizations and institutions. Among the topics addressed have been climate and ecological justice, impacts on bodies and territories, intercultural dialogue of knowledge, institutional climate governance at national and global levels, and territorial leadership actions as concrete contributions to climate change adaptation.

The School’s outcomes have been key to building a more realistic concept of climate justice. Through workshops featuring critical and participatory methodologies, the historical circumstances of the climate crisis have been reconstructed, giving name to the systems of patriarchal, colonialist and global capitalist oppression that gave rise to it. From this situated perspective, it has been possible to look at and analyse the present, and to put forward shared notions of justice (how to live with the world) and of the future.

The knowledge shared and constructed at the School provides women with tools to participate in dialogues from which they are often excluded.

The knowledge shared at the School provides women with tools to participate in dialogues from which they are often excluded.

The training has had a significant impact on the formation of translocalized and multidisciplinary networks. The Schools have connected people from different territorialities and socio-cultural realities. Through listening and dialogue, Indigenous women share and learn from other experiences. Space has thus been given to a diverse range of knowledge from a logic of horizontality, providing meaning and the possibility of action with which to face the crisis as a complex problem, challenging the vulnerable position in which climate policy has pigeonholed Indigenous women.

In addition, the knowledge shared and constructed at the School provides women with tools to participate in dialogues from which they are often excluded. Understanding climate policy and environmental institutions at different levels has been one of the most interesting and challenging topics. The women are seeking to reduce the information gap and overcome the high technical complexity of the subject. In addition, the women leaders aspire to receive training in all areas necessary to be able to dialogue effectively with the State and thus position their demands.

Training as a political strategy

The training spaces promoted by Indigenous women are providing concrete possibilities through which to build knowledge and put it into practise collaboratively. They are also contributing to positioning their working methods and methodologies, and to taking on different roles in training. This learning also enables Indigenous women to locate their own boundaries and timeframe given that these do not always coincide with the institutional framework or with external agents.

The contributions of women in these spaces are concrete: they have generated situated diagnoses of vulnerability based on an analysis of the life paths of both themselves and their communities. In addition, they have identified actions that contribute to addressing the crisis, together with the knowledge necessary for this work. Furthermore, from a strategic viewpoint, Indigenous women have analysed their possibilities for advocacy at the institutional level and with different actors, increasing their collaborative networks in this area.

Capacity building in these terms promotes personal experiences from a community perspective, deeply connected to the territories and expressed collectively. Through the meeting and exchange of these experiences, specific tools and strategies are generated with which to create influence in the territories, giving value to the feelings and actions of Indigenous women from their bodies-territories. At the same time, capacity building collaborates with institutional relations and promotes multilevel public policy advocacy, generating new alliances and collaborations with the different actors involved in environmental and climate issues.

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This recognition is the result of the struggles and efforts of young people who, from the countryside, the city, the forest and the mountains, have transcended their borders and their daily constraints to raise their voices against injustice. Their deteriorating livelihoods, the threats posed by extractive projects and the impacts of climate change on their territories are just some of the many reasons that are pushing a new generation of Indigenous individuals to take a stand and emerge from their communities. Many of them are thus arriving at negotiating spaces in which issues fundamental to the future of life and humanity are being decided, and they are reminding the world of the urgency of much needed change.

Heirs to a major historical struggle

As the bearers of their ancestors’ legacy, increasing numbers of Indigenous youth are arriving at the UNFCCC Conferences of the Parties (COP), overcoming many difficulties along the way. The structural deficiencies they experience in their relations with States are reproduced in these multilateral negotiations and their full and effective participation is hindered by their observer status in the process. It is therefore urgent that States reverse the unequal conditions to which they have relegated Indigenous Peoples, despite being rights holders, and that they recognize their agency as political actors.

In this context, Indigenous youth are reclaiming the legacy of their elders’ leaders to get their rights respected, both in their own countries and in the United Nations and, specifically, the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. In this space, young people find an opportunity to meet with leaders from around the world, joining in current processes that will define the struggles of the future. A future in which the leadership of the new generations is already critical.

The voice of youth is a call to humanity to recover an integral and transgenerational vision of life focused on the regeneration of society and its links with nature, one that envisages a future life on earth.

The voice of youth is a call to humanity to recover an integral and transgenerational vision of life focused on the regeneration of society.

At its 23^rd session, the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues emphasized the barriers they face: “Indigenous youth face significant barriers, including discrimination and marginalization, which severely undermine their ability to practise and maintain their culture, traditions, language and identity.” The body recommended that Member States and the United Nations system develop educational and leadership programmes tailored to the needs of Indigenous Peoples. The Forum believes it is essential that young Indigenous women are enabled to realize their potential as leaders and guardians of their culture and territory.

In a scenario rife with colonial overtones, the voices of youth should not go unheard. Their message is a call to humanity to recover an integral and transgenerational vision of life: one focused on the regeneration of society, its human and natural bonds, one that envisages a future life on earth and the right of the next generations to exist. Regeneration for action, in the context of the climate crisis, is the example set by Indigenous youth in demanding to be heard and included in decision-making. This is also an opportunity to rebuild a damaged fabric in need of repair, and in which the values and wisdom of our ancestors are necessary now more than ever.

A future for Indigenous youth

One year on from the founding of the International Indigenous Youth Forum on Climate Change (IIYFCC), formally recognized under the International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Climate Change (IIPFCC), Indigenous youth from the seven socio-cultural regions are now putting forward their proposals to move from symbolic to substantive recognition of their rights and agency. They are calling for the inclusion of a trans- and intergenerational perspective in the search for solutions, allowing for regeneration of the fabric. They are also calling for a transformation of the colonial logic of the current development model, thus ensuring that age-old wisdom of incalculable value to climate action is passed down.

With their proposals, Indigenous youth are seeking to remove the barriers to participation in climate negotiations and thus ensure a future in which their realities are present and their voices represented in both formal and informal negotiating spaces. In the last consultation with the Youth Champion for COP 29, Leyla Hasanova, representatives of the International Indigenous Youth Forum on Climate Change expressed their concern at the colonial logic being perpetuated in the UNFCCC, including a lack of recognition of cultural and linguistic diversity, worldviews and spirituality. They requested culturally safe spaces for Indigenous youth who participate in the meetings to perform their ceremonies.

Indigenous youth cannot participate meaningfully if we are fighting for basic human rights, including the right to self-determination and free, prior and informed consent.

Indigenous youth cannot participate meaningfully if we are fighting for basic human rights.

The young people also demanded the provision of effective interpreting as this is a crucial aspect that limits the involvement of Indigenous leaders who do not speak the official UN languages, particularly English. In addition, they requested that Indigenous communities and organizations be provided with direct, simplified and equitable access to climate funds. They thus added their voice to the complaints made by Indigenous Peoples’ organizations regarding the diversion and mismanagement of funds, which is preventing resources from reaching the communities. It is hoped that this discussion will be further developed in future meetings.

The IIYFCC stated as follows: “Reaffirming a commitment to the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples is crucial and necessary in the development of all national policies and the UNFCCC. Indigenous youth cannot participate meaningfully if we are fighting for basic human rights, including the right to self-determination and free, prior and informed consent.”

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Indigenous ancestral knowledge gives humanity valuable insights into how to deal with climate change. However, despite their deep understanding, their knowledge is often overlooked in climate change reports and policies, even when other information is limited or adaptation strategies are needed in their territories. As key knowledge holders on the climate and its effects, Indigenous Peoples should have a bigger role in shaping how we address climate change, both locally and globally.In response to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change’s (UNFCCC) call to governments for more inclusive and rights-based climate strategies, a network of Indigenous and non-Indigenous researchers teamed up in a global project focusing on Indigenous knowledge of climate change: Local Indicators of Climate Change Impacts (LICCI). Below, we present LICCI’s key findings and policy recommendations.

Climate change impacts on Indigenous territories

Research from many parts of the world clearly shows that Indigenous Peoples are noticing ongoing, real changes in the environments they have lived in and managed for generations. For example, the Gurung People in Laprak (Nepal) report that frequent extreme rainfall events, flash floods, landslides, and cold waves are disrupting traditional agricultural calendars and livestock productivity, impacting food security and the local economy. For the Collagua People in the Colca Valley (Peru), or Maya in Timucuy (Mexico), unpredictable weather is making farming more difficult and stressful, while for the Inuit on Baffin Island (Canada), hunting on sea ice is becoming much more dangerous due to changing ice conditions.

Indigenous Peoples’ reports on climate change do not always match up with scientific instrumental records, thus offering fresh insights for humanity. Their knowledge can reveal climate change impacts in areas that global weather stations often miss, such as parts of the Arctic, mountains, deserts, or rainforests. For instance, Twa farmers in the Democratic Republic of the Congo have noticed changes in fog patterns, a detail not captured by weather stations, thus helping to better understand the climate impacts in that region.

Indigenous Peoples’ reports on climate change do not always match the instrumental records of science, offering new insights to humanity.

Indigenous Peoples often interpret environmental changes in cosmological or spiritual terms.

In many Indigenous communities, the impacts of climate change are not seen in isolation but as part of a bigger picture of environmental and social transformations. Indigenous Peoples often recognize climate change as just one factor contributing to environmental damage, alongside things like overuse of natural resources (such as logging or overfishing), poorly planned development projects, new infrastructure, and government policies. These other factors are often seen as more immediate and serious threats than climate change. The Daasanach People in Northern Kenya say that water infrastructure projects and conservation policies have been major causes of environmental changes in their area.

In Argentina’s Dry Puna region, Kolla-Atacameño pastoral communities have noticed less rainfall. Nevertheless, they also point to the degradation of wetlands—important for water and grazing—due to road construction and lithium mining. In many places, climate change increases the vulnerability of Indigenous Peoples. Koryak reindeer herders in Siberia say that climate change is intensifying the problems left behind by the social and economic upheavals of the Soviet and post-Soviet eras.

Moreover, Indigenous Peoples often interpret environmental changes in cosmological and/or spiritual terms. The Tsimane’ People in the Bolivian Amazon believe that the use of inappropriate, abusive, or culturally disrespectful hunting, fishing, and gathering techniques awakens the anger of the guardian spirits of nature, who punish the Tsimane’ with resource scarcity. Tsimane’ cosmovision and spiritual beliefs play a prominent role in their understanding of how and why the world changes, and should thus be acknowledged in any attempt to bridge knowledge systems.

Indigenous climate change adaptation strategies

Indigenous Peoples deal with the impacts of climate change in different ways, depending on their situation. Many of their responses involve local solutions, such as iTaukei communities in Fiji sharing food to support each other or making small changes to their farming practices. The Bassari People (Senegal) and the Betsileo People (Madagascar) use a variety of crops and landscapes to endure droughts and unpredictable weather.

Climate change also pushes Indigenous Peoples to make significant changes, such as relocating or shifting to activities that rely less on nature. For example, the Inughuit (Greenland), a community traditionally involved in fishing and hunting, have transitioned to wage labour occupations. However, while allowing them to cope with climate change impacts in the short-term, these responses can have drawbacks, such as decreased traditional activities, lower food production, and a greater need to rely on markets, becoming maladaptive in the long-term. For example, by adopting a more market-oriented agriculture, Collagua farming communities in Peru’s Colca Valley have become less food resilient as they produce fewer traditional crops such as quinoa and fava beans.

Indigenous knowledge offers valuable adaptation solutions that are specific to their local context. Because of their long connection with the land, Indigenous Peoples’ responses to climate change often reflect their unique way of life and cultural values. Their strategies can inspire more sustainable, diverse, and locally-driven action plans. For example, the resources shared by iTaukei communities (Fiji) ensure food security after climate disasters, prioritizing the community over individual gain—an approach not often seen in national plans.

Barriers to adaptation and cooperation with science

Indigenous Peoples face social, political, and cultural obstacles that hinder their adaptation capacity. Factors such as limited political influence, poverty, unequal access to resources, and other challenges tied to colonialism and racism continue to hold them back. The Mapuche-Pehuenche People in Southern Chile say their vulnerability comes from the ongoing damage to their land caused by logging and their long-standing exclusion from important decision-making processes.

Within every Indigenous People, certain groups may face additional challenges. One case that is repeated across most regions is that of Indigenous women in patriarchal cultures, who may not benefit equally from adaptation strategies. In the Bassari community (Senegal), the shift to growing cash crops such as cotton has reduced women’s control over household money and could negatively affect family nutrition as farming becomes less diverse.Combining Indigenous knowledge with new opportunities can help to overcome these barriers, lead to new solutions for adapting, and reduce the effects of climate change, both locally and globally. For example, Inuit fishers in Arctic Canada are working with scientists, using technology to manage the risks of changing sea ice. Together, they are co-managing the fisheries, which helps to improve food security, encourages learning, and creates shared knowledge. Tibetans from Shangri-La County have adjusted to the widespread lack of water caused by climate change by blending their traditional livelihoods with the new opportunities brought about by tourism.

Towards a better inclusion of Indigenous Peoples

The current crisis demands that climate change decision-makers, both locally and globally, recognize Indigenous Peoples as legitimate custodians of knowledge on climate change and its impacts and honour their rights to participate in climate change decision-making in a just, equitable, and effective manner. Based on the findings from the LICCI project, the team has developed specific recommendations for decision-makers and research institutions working with Indigenous communities and climate change.

Recommendations for decision-makers:

1. Enhance decision-makers’ ability to engage with Indigenous knowledge: strengthen the skills and capacity of both individuals and institutions to understand, appreciate, and integrate Indigenous Peoples’ knowledge and insights, ensuring fair treatment in climate-related discussions.
2. Adopt a rights-based approach to climate policy: uphold the rights of Indigenous Peoples as outlined in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. This includes thorough and ongoing consultation, as well as ensuring Free, Prior, and Informed Consent before any climate policies—whether for mitigation, adaptation, or reparation—are implemented in their territories.
3. Ensure Indigenous representation at all decision-making levels: Indigenous Peoples must be included in every stage of climate decision-making, from assessing needs and distributing funding to planning, monitoring, and evaluating adaptation programs. Their participation in national and global processes should be permanent, meaningful, and effective, including having voting rights.
4. Guarantee fair climate finance: governments must cover the costs Indigenous Peoples face as they adapt to climate changes they did not cause. Indigenous communities should have a lead role in deciding where funds for climate mitigation and adaptation are directed and should be part of climate accountability bodies, such as those overseeing loss, damage, and redress (e.g., UN-REDD or the Green Climate Fund).
5. Promote locally-led, inclusive solutions: governments and climate adaptation programs should move away from technology-focused solutions that exclude Indigenous Peoples and may create dependence. Instead, the focus should be on locally-driven, integrated solutions that address the root causes of environmental change and the needs of vulnerable groups.
6. Foster coherence across climate adaptation policies: ensure that policies are coordinated across sectors and scales to comprehensively tackle the diverse and simultaneous challenges Indigenous Peoples face in adapting to climate change.

Recommendations for research institutions and funding agencies

1. Promote local leadership: ensure Indigenous Peoples are represented in scientific, advisory, and decision-making bodies that shape climate and environmental research. Encourage Indigenous lead authorship in key publications to elevate their voices in global discussions.
2. Support collaborative research: create opportunities to co-develop inclusive, context-specific, and fully participatory research proposals with Indigenous partners.
3. Adopt a rights-based research approach: research involving Indigenous Peoples should follow strict protocols that respect Indigenous data sovereignty and governance. This includes Indigenous representation on research ethics boards, in data regulation bodies, and throughout the research process.
4. Build communities of practice: establish national and international networks that enable Indigenous communities to share experiences and knowledge of climate change impacts.
5. Broaden research evaluation criteria: shift the focus away from traditional academic metrics. Evaluate research based on the time and resources needed for collaborative projects, the relationships established with communities, and the tangible benefits the research brings to those communities.
6. Reduce the environmental impacts of research: climate research should minimize its carbon footprint by reconsidering travel and reducing the digital footprint of projects. Promote a transparent discussion on reducing environmental impacts while balancing researcher well-being and research quality.

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Within anthropology, we often refer to this latter approach as “cosmopolitics”, making politics more cosmopolitan by opening it up to other worldviews. One of the leading theorists of this view is Marisol de la Cadena, who carried out ground-breaking ethnographic work with activists in Cusco, Peru, contesting a mine that would “decapitate” a mountain deity, arguing that there would be horrific consequences for such a violation. She explored how we could open up the sphere of politics to include non-human actors like mountains, and to take seriously the worldviews of those who saw them as such.

Towards a cosmopolitics of climate change

In June of this year, I was lucky enough to convene a conference of Indigenous and non-Indigenous anthropologists on collaborations across Indigenous and scientific worldviews on climate change: Creating a Cosmopolitics of Climate Change. The idea was to work with people creating emerging experimental “cosmopolitical” fields in climate negotiation, action, and engagement, opening up terms like politics and climate change to non-Western interpretations. We hope that cosmopolitics can widen communication among worlds, sparking a wider re-conceptualization of the relations between humans and their environments.

One of the first people invited was Olga Ulturgasheva from the University of Manchester, an Indigenous anthropologist whose work I really admire. I had read her book on child rearing practices in Siberia and knew she was now working on climate change. To my delight, she was enthusiastic about the conference and immediately proposed several colleagues of hers as contributors. Firstly, Mark Brightman, who coincidentally used to be a director of the Centre for the Anthropology of Sustainability, where I work. They had published together, comparing Indigenous ideas of animals as social persons in Siberia and the Amazon.

The Asháninka community members reclaimed the rights to part of their territory and recovered it from grazing and logging. In this way, they rebuilt an autonomous Indigenous community and their own lifestyles, together with the environment they traditionally inhabited.

The Asháninka community members rebuilt an autonomous community and their own lifestyles, along with the environment they traditionally inhabited.

Olga secondly proposed Barbara Bodenhorn, who was my main teacher and supervisor as an undergraduate, shaping my ideas of Indigenous activism. I had not seen her for 20 years but was keen to meet again. Olga and Barbara were working together on experiences and perceptions of climate change in the Arctic and its global implications. Lastly, Olga suggested an Indigenous climate researcher from the field of media studies, Candis Callison, whose work I was not familiar with but was swiftly moved by when I started to read it. Working within the field of journalism, Candis explores how climate change as scientific facts, shaped by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), is translated by the media, understood at a local level, and moves collectives to act. This wide-ranging account, which moves across Inuit and USA Evangelical communities, is lively and very readable.

Motivated by Olga’s support, all these people enthusiastically agreed to participate. I next approached Hildegard Diemberger, studying attitudes to climate change in the Himalayas. We agreed to contrast the cosmological approaches of our two very different mountain field sites, the Andes and the Himalayas, where climate change is similarly seen with overtones of mythic discourses of world endings. She is looking at how Buddhist concepts of ecology are wedded to scientific approaches in collaborations that consider communities in landscape management and create space for them to contribute their own experiences of climate change through Citizen Science.

Citizen Science is employed by Jerome Lewis, director of the Centre for the Anthropology of Sustainability (CAoS) at UCL, who had previously put me in contact with two members of the Asháninka people from Apitxwa community: Moisés and Benki. Following a vision of their grandfather’s, the community reclaimed the rights to some of their jungle territory from cattle ranching and logging. They restored an autonomous Indigenous community and lifestyles, along with the jungle environment itself.

The consideration of Indigenous knowledge

Prior to this, I was already working with Renzo Taddei, who had given a paper months previously for the UCL Anthropocene scholars on whether Indigenous Peoples have a voice in the IPCC. He agreed to convene the conference with me, suggesting Rosario Carmona as a contributor. Rosario is an anthropologist and painter who works on perceptions of climate change among the Pehuenche in southern Chile, and has analysed the uptake of Indigenous ideas by the IPCC in an IWGIA policy briefing. She and Renzo generously contributed their time and ideas to refining the conference call. To complete the ensemble, Ben Campbell was invited. He argues for the importance of social as well as physical science on climate change in the Himalayas to inform us about peoples’ relationships with their environments.

On the day itself, we were joined by Hannah Knox, who focuses on the implementation of climate change and renewable energy among UK councils and community groups. She had agreed to give a keynote speech introducing the day. Olga set the tone with a challenging first paper that conceptualized Indigenous responses to climate change in her native Siberia in terms of vulnerability. While moving along the landscape drastically affected by permafrost thaw, herders rely on their reindeer to read the stability of the ground on which they are standing more adeptly than humans, and thus choose safe routes. This approach challenged the perspective taken by myself and contributors in the book “Indigenous Perspectives on the End of the World: Creating a Cosmopolitics of Change”, where we all emphasized Indigenous approaches to climate change as a source of resilience and knowledge that others could learn from.

In Bolivia, climate change is affecting local agriculture and disrupting the rains that people depend on for irrigation. Farmers are adapting their crops to these new conditions, changing the seasons and altitudes at which they grow.

In Bolivia, climate change is affecting local agriculture, disrupting the seasons and the rains that people depend on for irrigation.

I was presenting with my co-author Feliciano, a Quechua-speaking Originary farmer from a highland Andean village in the Callawaya region of north Bolivia. My partner Mahesh and I, together with our Bolivian research assistants, worked with him on making a short documentary in which he explains some of the effects of climate change on local farming, disrupting the seasons and rainfall on which the village depends for irrigation. Farmers are rapidly adapting their crops to these new conditions, changing the seasons and altitudes at which they grow. Feliciano’s cheery attitude, determined that somehow the community would continue despite the multiple threats to its existence, had led me to conceptualize his response in terms of resilience. His strength continually impressed me.

In the documentary, he shows us how he still sows the fields using a foot plough, assisted by his wife and an adult daughter, growing most of what the family consumes despite his 60 years. He is an avid experimenter, trying out new crops and growing seasons to suit the changing conditions. This knowledge and expertise, as well as community spirit, as people share news of innovations in farming between villages and with their neighbours, shows us some of the strengths Indigenous community management can offer under climate change.

Resilience and vulnerability in Indigenous climate attitudes

Provocatively, in a later discussion session, discussant Alessandro Questa made a strong argument in favour of conceptualizing Indigenous actions in terms of resilience. In his own field site in southern Mexico, people are returning from cities to remake and repopulate their communities, to re-find their stories and connections to the world around them. How autonomous communities and Indigenous movements are conducting such experiments, designing sustainable futures with aspects of the past in contexts characterized by disruption, is a fascinating subject of anthropological reflection. This emerges as the major theme of debate linking the papers, and will be the main bone of contention in a subsequent publication which we hope to have ready next year.

As our conference shows, Indigenous responses to climate change are as diverse and varied as could be expected from peoples distributed across the globe. Some elements that emerged in common are how they are able to participate in a global conversation and the extent to which we must adopt scientific rationality and norms of communication to be taken seriously in such mediums. Too often, Indigenous inputs are reduced to “traditional knowledge”, which is inserted into a scientific set of worldviews and understandings; it is considered a useful observation on the environment that can be of service to science. Our perspective seeks to re-situate such knowledge within the cosmologies and everyday understandings through which it has emerged and emphasize where these are crucial to articulating sustainable lifestyles.

One element that emerged strongly from the book “Indigenous Perspectives on the End of the World: Creating a Cosmopolitics of Change” was the importance of rituals of respect. All the peoples we spoke to about how to avert the “end of the world” emphasized the importance of restoring, especially among the younger generation, practices that articulate thanks to the “non-human others” – gods, spirits, mountains. Benki emphasised that it is through considering the landscape in a respectful way that we realise human limitations and acknowledge that we are at the hands of the mighty and creative forces who preceded us. We are vulnerable, if you like, and from this more humble standpoint, might articulate sustainable relations with and within the world.

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However, the relocation of Gardi Sugdub residents to the mainland is primarily due to the increasing population on the island. In addition to natural population growth, the overpopulation is also attributed to the migration of Panamanians who had been living in the country’s main cities and moved to the island in search of permanent or temporary residence. This has led to homes reaching their maximum capacity.

This overpopulation has caused a range of social problems, which are exacerbated by the island’s geographical limitations. Families live in overcrowded conditions, conflicts over land inheritance are on the rise, gender-based violence is increasing, access to healthy food is limited, malnutrition and drug addiction are prevalent, and tourism is being overexploited.

From the island to the mainland neighborhood

In the Guna Yala Indigenous territory, climate change is evident. In recent years, sea levels have risen, island shores have eroded, and entire homes have been swept away by the tides. This phenomenon has been exacerbated by marine deforestation and the overexploitation of coral, which is used to fill in and expand houses near the shoreline.

In response to these events, the population of Gardi Sugdub decided to relocate 300 families to the mainland, while the rest will remain on the island. This idea originated within the community in 2010, and was finally realized in June 2024 with the support of the National Government, the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB), the World Bank, and NGOs. The community provided the land, and the homes were built with international funds.

A key question is who will lead the new neighborhood: whether it will be the authority that governs the island or if a new local government will be established within the community.

With the new neighborhood Isberyala (Nuevo Cartí) now established on the mainland, a series of new challenges has emerged. The first challenge is governance. A key question is who will lead the new neighborhood: whether it will be the authority that governs the island or if a new local government will be established within the community. Currently, the taxes from the transportation of cars arriving and departing for the capital city are paid at the onmaggednega (traditional house) in the new neighborhood and then transferred to the main community on the island.

It is still too early to tell, but in the future, this new neighborhood may likely become independent from the Gardi Sugdub community on the island and form a new Guna settlement.

The educational model and the style of the homes

To ensure the education of the children, a model school was built, equipped with all the necessary facilities for learning. A student dormitory was also built to accommodate students from various communities. However, what type of education will be provided? Will it be intercultural, bilingual education or state education?

When we talk about a model school, it’s important to introduce new educational approaches or, at the very least, to strengthen the Guna people’s own educational system. Additionally, new university programs should be proposed at the Gardi Sugdub University Annex of the University of Panama, as currently, only an education degree is offered. For instance, the Guna people also need training in agricultural management and sustainable tourism.

Prefabricated houses were built, which disrupting the daily way of life of the Guna communities and their cultural and environmental surroundings. For instance, the Guna people traditionally sleep in hammocks.

Prefabricated houses were built, which disrupting the daily way of life of the Guna communities and their cultural and environmental surroundings.

A third challenge is that the construction of the homes did not consider Guna culture; the residents wanted them to reflect their traditional style. The design of the houses was based on a program from the Panamanian government called “Techos de Esperanza.” As a result, prefabricated houses were built, which disrupting the daily way of life of the Guna communities and their cultural and environmental surroundings. For instance, the Guna people traditionally sleep in hammocks.

The government allocated each family a lot of 300 square meters and also constructed a community center, a chicha house, a sports court, and a Catholic church. While electricity is being installed in the homes, the water pressure for drinking water remains insufficient. Another significant issue is that the neighborhood lacks its own health center, as the health post is still located on the island (which, by the way, is not functioning well).

Environmental impact, tourism, and fieldwork

One of the major challenges in the region is the solid waste that is either discarded in the mangroves or offshore, only returns to the island shortly after. Learning from this situation, the new neighborhood must organize proper waste management, including storage and recycling of non-organic waste such as paper, glass, and metal.

The new neighborhood was constructed in a mangrove area, leading to the deforestation of hundreds of trees. The area is also prone to flooding, making reforestation around its perimeter essential to prevent land subsidence in the future. Additionally, promoting agricultural work is crucial to achieving food sovereignty and reducing reliance on imported food. This agricultural activity would also generate income for families and boost local tourism.

Like most Caribbean islands, the community of Gardi Sugdub primarily relies on tourism. The Guna people offer boat tours, rent out their cabins, and work as tour guides. With the new neighborhood in place, reorganizing the port will be necessary to better accommodate the boats of both island residents and those living in the new neighborhood.

Much work ahead

The Gunadule people in the new neighborhood believe that their traditional practices must not be forgotten. Both the House of Congress and the Innanega (House of Strong Chicha) are integral to their identity. The community has also decided to allocate land to the Catholic Church, a religion that may influence Guna spirituality.

There is still a need for a comprehensive land use plan. President Laurentino Cortizo inaugurated the new village with intense political propaganda to mark the end of his term. However, he overlooked several unresolved issues such as the provision of drinking water, waste management, the construction of a perimeter wall to protect against wild animals, environmental concerns, and access to healthcare.

Climate change in the Guna Yala region is evident. Communities are threatened by river flooding, some islands are inundated between November and February, and changes in wind patterns have made the sea rougher, affecting transportation between islands.

Given the likelihood that global warming will intensify in the coming years, much work remains to safeguard the Guna communities.

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