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

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

The Promotion of Private Financing

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can biodiversity be standardised and sold?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Indigenous territories at the frontline of biodiversity finance

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whose integrity?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choosing a different path

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

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

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

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

A pungent smell fills the air. Slowly, the sun fades into an orange drape and ashes swirl in the sky. East of Atopo W+p+, an Indigenous Kali’na village located some fifteen kilometres from Saint-Laurent-du-Maroni, in the north-west of “French” Guiana, the cicada concert is no more. The screaming pihas have stopped screaming. Like other animals, the birds have fled the construction of the Western French Guiana Power Plant (Centrale Électrique de l'Ouest Guyanais, CEOG), the world’s future largest hydrogen storage facility.

Over 20 hectares have already been ripped from the Kali’na’s land, whose village is a 20- minute walk away. The verdant forest that existed a few weeks prior has now been transformed into a barren wasteland, with the earth dotted by the corpses of birds and lizards. A barricade of dead trees, resembling a beaver dam, encloses the area. It was erected by construction machinery piling up the last remnants of the forest to make way for the future power station. In the sky, the smoke thickens and the ash swirls more vigorously, carried by the wind that has risen.

Young Kali’na “warriors”, as they call themselves, some under the age of 18, intentionally set fire to the few logs littering the ground to prevent any attempt to profit from their sale. They are taking advantage of a temporary halt in the work to inspect the site and witness, helplessly, the clearing of their land. “It’s painful”, observes a Kali’na warrior sadly, “because this land is like our second mother”.

Kali’na warriors collect dead trees littering the site and burn them to prevent timber from their forest from being sold. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

Kali’na warriors collect dead trees littering the site and burn them to prevent timber from their forest from being sold. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

France refuses to recognise Indigenous rights

Atopo W+p+ (“village of the hills” in Kali’na) is an Indigenous village that was established by a few Kali’na fleeing the civil war in Surinam some forty years ago. The village was founded on lands that historically belonged to Kali’na and other Indigenous Peoples before being seized and devastated by European invasions in the early 16th century. Today, 230 people live in this village, also known as Prospérité in French, situated north of the N1 road, linking Cayenne to Saint-Laurent-du-Maroni along the coastline. Among the Kali’na, one of Guiana’s Indigenous Peoples, Atopo W+p+ stands out as the only village — according to inhabitants and outsiders — that has managed to resist concreting and where Kali’na continues to be the language of communication, even among young people.

For years, via the village association, members of the community have been working on a projet d’auto-suffisance, aiming to achieve full self-sustainability: a water tower drawing from a nearby spring and a bilingual primary school teaching in both Kali’na and French have been built; housing and food resources are mainly obtained from the land; and a chicken coop and manioc plantations further support the community. A bread oven was also in the pipeline, but the path towards self-sustainability has been severely hampered by the CEOG project, and residents now spend most of their time defending their lands.

The 140-hectare site where HDF Energy, a hydrogen power company, intends to construct CEOG was originally allocated by the Office National des Forêts (ONF), the government agency responsible for state-owned forests. Despite France’s support for the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007, the state persists in rejecting the recognition of their distinct rights, citing constitutional grounds. Based on the French Constitution (1958), France is an “indivisible” Republic which ensures “equality of all citizens before the law, without distinction of origin, race or religion” (Article 1).

When the 140-hectare plot, part of Atopo W+p+’s territory, was allocated to HDF Energy, the residents’ right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) was ignored since the company was not legally required to consider areas beyond the one-kilometre radius surrounding the future CEOG project. Like 95% of Guianese land, Atopo W+p+’s territory is legally owned by the state, a reminder that Guiana was never decolonised, but rather departmentalised. That is, in 1946, it was assimilated into French territory and has since become a French overseas department-region (département-région d’outre-mer, DROM), now fully part of France and the European Union.

Atopo W+p+’s territory is located in a vast forest, once haunted, and rich in diverse flora and fauna. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

Atopo W+p+’s territory is located in a vast forest, once haunted, and rich in diverse flora and fauna. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

Deployment of gendarmerie

The residents of Atopo W+p+ repeatedly stress that they are not opposed to the future hydrogen power plant as such. They acknowledge that Guiana has a crying need to increase and diversify its electricity production, currently based on a polluting and ageing fleet. Indeed, the 290,000 residents of the DROM frequently experience power outages, hence the necessity for projects such as CEOG, which will eventually provide electricity to 10,000 households. While stressing the need for investment, the residents of Atopo W+p+ point out that they should have been consulted because CEOG is situated less than two kilometres from the village and encroaches on important hunting, fishing and bathing sites. Additionally, the area is home to earth beings important to the Kali’na, and clearing the site involves felling multiple trees that they consider “sacred”.

Of the 140 hectares allocated by the ONF, 75 hectares must be cleared for HDF Energy’s project. A first section of 16 hectares was already swallowed up by excavators during the winter of 2022-2023. One by one, trees were felled like twigs, despite the fierce resistance of Atopo W+p+’s Kali’na warriors who tried to physically obstruct the excavators. Their resolute opposition necessitated the intervention of law enforcement to break through. Gendarmerie units were deployed by the French state, resulting in clashes.

Along with other residents, Roland Sjabere, Yopoto (Kali’na chief) of Atopo W+p+, was taken into custody at dawn on 24 October 2022 in his home in the village, deeply affecting the community. The confrontations persisted until early March 2023, at which point the confrontation escalated to the extent that work was ceased.

Left: The forest floor is littered with the many tear gas grenades fired by the gendarmes. They are then collected by Kali’na to prevent them from polluting their lands. Right: The construction of CEOG generates a lot of pollution, affecting the land and water that Atopo W+p+’s residents rely on. Fotos: Pierre Auzerau

Left: The forest floor is littered with the many tear gas grenades fired by the gendarmes. They are then collected by Kali’na to prevent them from polluting their lands. Right: The construction of CEOG generates a lot of pollution, affecting the land and water that Atopo W+p+’s residents rely on. Fotos: Pierre Auzerau

The Kali’na warriors’ resistance

Despite a brief respite, operations resumed in earnest on 16 August 2023, resulting in a disastrous situation. Since then, the number of machines and gendarmes has been multiplied. Villagers report seeing up to eight excavators and bulldozers at the CEOG site daily, accompanied by more than 50 gendarmes and private security guards. On the other side, the Kali’na resistance comprises 10 to 20 warriors, a dwindling number.

Since work began in 2022, 20 people have been arrested and detained, including both warriors and non-locals providing support, with the latest being a minor on 23 September 2023. A 20-year-old Kali’na warrior from Atopo W+p+ recounts: “I feel stressed and persecuted: drones fly over the village at night to keep an eye on us. We found hidden cameras on the site. We were chased by gendarmes with dogs. Some of them camouflage themselves in the forest to catch us; some gendarmes even pointed their weapons at us”.

The French government is allocating significant resources to ensure the successful completion of CEOG. “They have tear-gas grenades, stun grenades, dismantling grenades, but also LBDs (blast ball riot guns)”, enumerates Melissa, Yopoto Sjabere’s niece. She remembers the words of CEOG’s site manager: “Even if some of you have to die, CEOG will go ahead”. To protect themselves, Atopo W+p+’s warriors retaliate using stones, sticks and slingshots. More recently, they have started making Molotov cocktails in response to police brutality.

“Is the plant reason enough to threaten young people with pump-action shotguns or to persecute and traumatise an entire village, including children?”, Melissa inquires with anger. At least three minors became ill and required hospitalisation due to the tear gas fired by gendarmes, resulting in prolonged headaches and respiratory issues. “The doctor advised them to file a complaint, but we know it wouldn’t succeed because the state would support the gendarmes”, comments the 20-year-old Kali’na warrior.

Trees are marked with paint, indicating that they will soon be cut down. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

Trees are marked with paint, indicating that they will soon be cut down. Photo: Pierre Auzerau

Project relocation request rejected

In early September, Yopoto Sjabere sought to protect his village from further violence by proposing a deal to Antoine Poussier, Guiana’s préfet (state’s representative). Knowing that the village’s right to FPIC had been breached and that the state had disregarded several of the inhabitants’ land rights (UNDRIP, Article 2 b, Article 26, among others), Roland Sjabere proposed to the state that the rest of the project be moved eastwards instead of northwards, as originally planned. This step forward was taken to protect the heart of Atopo W+p+’s territory. The southern section of CEOG, which has already been devoured by excavators, is bounded to the north by a stream that crosses Atopo W+p+’s lands. Protecting this natural boundary had a dual purpose and explains the Yopoto’s resignation: not only is this creek an ekupi dipo, a place for bathing, but to the north of it are gathering and hunting areas crucial for Atopo W+p+’s inhabitants to maintain their traditional way of life.

The request was refused on the evening of 17 September, causing dismay among Atopo W+p+’s residents. After a brief hiatus, during which work was temporarily halted as the préfet was reviewing the Yopoto’s request, CEOG’s clearing operations recommenced with greater intensity near the village. Workers are now on site seven days a week, under heavy guard, determined to make up for more than a year’s delay caused by the Kali’na.

“We are very sad. We’re already seeing a lot of pollution in the creek, which we swim in and drink from when we’re out in the forest”, observes Melissa. The young woman completing her civic service with the village association is also worried about the decline in animal and plant life: “Many animals have already disappeared from our land. They have fled north to escape the construction work and the tear gas. The jaguar that used to live on these lands is already gone. Birds, lizards, agoutis, armadillos and coatis have died because of the work. Plants we use for medicinal purposes are also disappearing”.

Atopo W+p+’s young Kali’na warriors are worried about their future. While the French state should ensure that they are “free from any kind of discrimination” (UNDRIP, Article 2), several have had their applications for professional training submitted to the Saint-Laurent- du-Maroni town hall rejected because they “come from Prospérité”. The village association faced a similar situation when trying to secure state funding. It is in situations like this that the forest becomes even more important, as it is “what feeds and heals the people of Atopo W+p+”, explains Melissa. This is what has kept her going over the years and will continue to do so until the end: “I can only thank this forest. It gave me strength. When I’m in the forest, I talk to it, I tell it that I’m not going to hurt it and that I’m there to protect it”.

Pierre Auzerau is a doctoral researcher in the Departments of Anthropology and Indigenous Studies at the University of Helsinki, Finland. Through inclusive research, his current project examines and documents Indigenous Peoples’ quest for legal recognition in “French” Guiana, focusing on their experience and use of the law(s). Inspired by Indigenous perspectives and theories, his work endeavours to adopt practices and methods that challenge colonial and racial power relations in research.

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