The contradiction becomes particularly apparent on Indigenous lands. Projects such as the Lomiko Graphite mine and the Strange Lake Rare Earth project highlight how the province’s climate leadership narrative masks continued erosion of Indigenous sovereignty. Quebec’s public image of environmental progress conceals the reality of resource extraction that often proceeds without Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), as enshrined in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP).

Indigenous Sovereignty and a Just Transition

Across Quebec, Indigenous lands are being opened up to mineral projects in the name of the energy transition, often without proper consultation or consent. According to a MiningWatch Canada report, an  astounding 10% of Quebec is under mining claims, with 60% of the 338,000 claims overlapping with rivers, which magnifies the impacts. While Canada’s 2021 passage of Bill C-15 enshrined UNDRIP into federal law, FPIC remains more aspirational than real. Communities are consulted only after projects are already in motion or presented with conditions that make the right to say no almost impossible.

In Canada and beyond, the principle of Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) is rarely upheld in an appropriate way for extractive projects. To truly give a community the right to say no, consultation would begin before the project has even begun, with attention given to meeting with traditional elders, women and children, not just men or Tribal chairs. If a community says no, then the project is halted.  A true just transition to cleaner energy would require centering Indigenous Peoples’ sovereignty as a north star before starting the process. FPIC should not be an afterthought.

The contradiction between Quebec’s rhetoric around Indigenous Peoples’ rights and its supposed climate change commitments is made clear, however, through the situation around the Lomiko Graphite mine in the Laurentides and Outaouais regions and the Strange Lake Rare Earth project in located in Nunavik.

The contradiction between Quebec’s rhetoric around Indigenous Peoples’ rights and its supposed climate change commitments is made clear, however, through the situation around the Lomiko Graphite mine and the Strange Lake Rare Earth project.

In 2023, the R. c. Montour decision in Quebec gave UNDRIP “the same weight as a binding international instrument” when interpreting section 35(1) of the Constitution, marking an important precedent. While this was hailed as an historic step that further uplifted Indigenous Peoples’ rights in the province, implementation has been uneven. A Quebec Superior Court recently ruled in favor of the Mitchikanibikok Inik First Nation, which had taken the province to court for failing their constitutional duty to consult the Nation before granting mining claims on their territory. The ruling stated that the province must now consult and accommodate the Nation not only on existing but also new claims. It was a small victory in hindsight.

In April 2022, Quebec once again made a name for itself as a progressive leader by passing Bill 21, an act that prohibits new petroleum exploration and production, while also mandating site restoration. Bill 21 was celebrated widely as a step forward for Canada towards bold action to address climate change. The contradiction between Quebec’s rhetoric around Indigenous Peoples’ rights and its supposed climate change commitments is made clear, however, through the situation around the Lomiko Graphite mine in the Laurentides and Outaouais regions and the Strange Lake Rare Earth project in located in Nunavik. At these projects, promises of sustainability collide with the extractive reality of mining.

The US Military Industry and Indigenous Opposition

In the Outaouais region of Quebec, Lomiko Metals Inc’s La Loutre graphite project is a proposed open pit graphite mine that was touted as an “ecological transition” project. Recently,  a multi-million dollar grant from the United States Department of Defense became one of the funding forces behind the widely opposed mine. It is said to be described by Lomiko as having the potential to be the seventh largest graphite mine in the world.

The project received a $8.35 million grant from the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) through a technology investment agreement (TIA) under Title III of the Defense Production Act. This U.S. federal support is matched by a $4.9 million grant from Natural Resources Canada, which totals some $16.7 million in joint U.S.-Canadian funding for the mining project. The La Loutre mine marks one of the first instances in which the DoD has extended TIA support to a Canadian mineral project at such an early stage. Lomiko publicly positions the project as an energy transition initiative but the DoD’s involvement highlights its significance for military applications.

The KZA community has actually been active in working towards restoring their territorial lands that have been “degraded”. Part of this process includes working with local and provincial governments to protect the ecosystems, as was promised by Canada at COP15.

The case of DoD funding for Canadian mines like Lomiko is not unique. Robert P. Sanders, the U.S. Consul General in Montreal confirmed that there are others in process.

The project has provoked opposition from the local communities, including the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg (KZA) First Nation, whose land it impacts. As with many extractive efforts, there is little evidence of genuine FPIC being sought. The KZA community has actually been active in working towards restoring their territorial lands that have been “degraded”. Part of this process includes working with local and provincial governments to protect the ecosystems, as was promised by Canada at COP15. The work toward restoring balance in their territories goes against the expansion of mining. 

The Quebec government, despite backing mineral expansion, declined to provincially fund the Lomiko mine, citing a lack of “social acceptability”. This was celebrated as a rare, but not definitive, victory as Federal and U.S. funding are still in place. The case of DoD funding for Canadian mines like Lomiko is not unique. In an interview with Le Journal, Robert P. Sanders, the U.S. Consul General in Montreal confirmed that there are others in process.

Strange Lake Rare Earths Project and Inuit/Innu/Naskapi Concerns

One of those projects is the Strange Lake Rare Earth project by Torngat Metals company. While not funded directly by the DoD, the company will supply minerals to a US-based company under contract to manufacture rare earth magnets for US military purposes.

Torngat Metals’ (a Quebec based rare earths development company), Strange Lake rare earth project straddles northern Quebec and Labrador on Labrador Inuit territory. Much like graphite, rare earths are a sought-after mineral for both electric vehicle batteries and military equipment. The mine is only one part of the plan, with a separation plant planned to be built in Sept-Îles. The project is already revealing its true colors. Previous plans put an access road through Inuit lands, which would require the Nunatsiavut government to hold their own environmental assessment. Torngat Metals changed the road’s location.

Two other Nations, the Innu Nation and the Naskapi Nation of Kawawachikamach, have also expressed concerns about the Torngat mine and its impact. They cite concerns about the project’s proximity to George River caribou calving grounds. The Innu Nation affirmed their connection to the land and unease as to how the project would affect it and pointed to Section 35 of the Canadian Constitution Act, which recognizes aboriginal rights. Yet those rights, much like within Bill C-15, remain undefined and unevenly implemented when it comes to extractive projects.

U.S. Department of War and the Just Transition

The involvement of the U.S. Department of Defense in projects such as Lomiko and Strange Lake underscores how clean energy narratives can align with military objectives. Minerals like  graphite, lithium, rare earths and nickel are essential not only for electric vehicle batteries but also for military applications.

With the new name change from the Department of Defense to the Department of War, there are no longer any misconceptions as to the goals of this funding. The recent Big Beautiful Bill added another $13 billion in direct funding from the department, which will only continue to fund mining and processing facilities throughout not only the United States and Canada but around the world. Communities within the U.S., like People of Red Mountain in Nevada, continue to fight a DoD-backed lithium mine that bypassed consent.

This will only become exacerbated as more funding is distributed to mining companies. Quebec has a choice to make: uphold and honor their commitments towards UNDRIP and climate justice or quietly align with U.S. military priorities. Thus, an example of how the rhetoric of sustainability can function as a smokescreen for other objectives.

The Quebec Paradox

Quebec’s ban on fossil fuel exploration under Bill 21 has been celebrated as proof of bold climate leadership. Yet, when viewed alongside the province’s expansion of mining, the contradiction becomes impossible to ignore. Oil and gas are outlawed in the name of climate justice, while destructive mining projects advance under the banner of the “green transition”.

The La Loutre graphite mine and Strange Lake rare earth project illustrate how this dynamic plays out when Indigenous territories are targeted for mineral extraction, FPIC remains sidelined, and external funding steers projects less toward climate solutions and more toward securing military supply chains. Quebec’s leadership narrative reveals the nature of extractive projects where sovereignty, ecosystems, and long-term solutions are sacrificed for industrial goals.

The paradox of banning fossil fuels while accelerating mining reveals that Quebec’s “transition” is less about climate justice and more about replacing one extractive practice with another.

The paradox of banning fossil fuels while accelerating mining reveals that Quebec’s “transition” is less about climate justice and more about replacing one extractive practice with another.

If the province were serious about a just transition, Indigenous nations would hold decisive authority from before the projects are started. Free, Prior and Informed Consent would not be reduced to a mid-project checkbox but respected as a binding right that can change, reshape or halt projects entirely.

The paradox of banning fossil fuels while accelerating mining reveals that Quebec’s “transition” is less about climate justice and more about replacing one extractive practice with another. It is not being dismantled but rebranded. A truly just transition requires centering Indigenous sovereignty as the foundation of climate policy.

The post The Clean Energy Smokescreen: Quebec’s Fossil Fuel Ban and the Mining Boom on Indigenous Lands appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

These reports, published in May 2022 by the news agency N-TV, attracted attention because they came to light shortly before the entry into force of ILO Convention No. 169 in Germany. After years of civil society efforts, Germany decided in 2021 to ratify Convention No. 169, which protects Indigenous Peoples’ rights. The ratification aimed to express the solidarity of the Federal Republic of Germany with Indigenous Peoples worldwide, and it was expected that the European power would respect, protect and uphold their rights through its international economic policy.

However, Germany’s growing demand for Colombian coal gave new impetus to El Cerrejón, the largest coal mine in Latin America which, in 2021, had announced a gradual shutdown due to falling demand for the mineral. The reactivation of the mine has already had serious consequences for the Indigenous and Afro-descendant Peoples living in the area.

El Cerrejón and the Wayuu People

El Cerrejón is located in the department of La Guajira, in Colombia’s Caribbean region, on ancestral Wayuu territory. The Wayuu are the largest Indigenous People in Colombia, numbering over 300,000 in La Guajira, and they also inhabit the state of Zulia, across the border in Venezuela. The mining complex was established in 1976 following the signing of a partnership agreement between the Colombian State, through Carbocol, and the International Colombia Resources Corporation (Intercor), a subsidiary of Exxon.

Coal extraction began in 1983. For several decades, two multinational mining companies, Anglo American and BHP Billiton, each held equal shares in the enterprise. Between 2000 and 2002, the Colombian State sold its stake through Carbocol. Today, Carbones del Cerrejón, the company that operates the mine, is wholly owned by the Swiss transnational Glencore.

In one of the driest regions of tropical South America, several rivers —the main sources of water— have disappeared. Fine dust emissions from mining and the high levels of mercury have severely affected the health of local residents.

The company rerouted the Bruno north of its natural course in order to extract the coal beneath it.

Since its inception, the local communities within El Cerrejón’s area of influence have suffered severe environmental, social, and cultural impacts as a result of the mine. Around 35 Indigenous and Afro-descendant communities have been displaced from their ancestral territories. Mining activities have polluted the soil, air, and water. In one of the driest regions of tropical South America, several rivers —the main sources of water— have disappeared. Fine dust emissions from mining and the high levels of mercury have severely affected the health of local residents: almost all Wayuu people suffer from respiratory illnesses and skin rashes.

The Cerrejón company has, since 2013, sought to develop a new open-pit mine known as La Puente in order to expand coal extraction. To do so, it has diverted the Bruno Stream, a crucial tributary of the Ranchería River —the only major river in this arid region— which flows through the heart of El Cerrejón’s concession area. The company rerouted the Bruno north of its natural course in order to extract the coal beneath it. In response to this escalation, several local communities, both Wayuu and Afro-descendant, have denounced the project, stating that they were not consulted.

The Conflict over the Bruno Stream

In 2017, Colombia’s Constitutional Court ruled that the company Carbones del Cerrejón and state institutions had violated the Wayuu people’s rights to water, food sovereignty, and health by authorising and carrying out the diversion of the Bruno Stream’s natural course in order to expand the mine. The Court therefore ordered the suspension of the coal exploitation zone, which had been expanded by the El Cerrejón complex without consultation. Throughout the legal process, the claimants were subjected to threats.

Ruling SU-698/17 was regarded as a legal victory for the plaintiffs before the Constitutional Court. The Court justified its decision on the basis of the project’s impacts on the local climate and the health of residents, as well as on the cultural rights protected under Colombia’s constitutional framework. It also recognised the river’s spiritual significance. For the Wayuu, rivers are not only sources of life but also sacred entities. As lawyer Mateus Parra explained: “One of the supreme deities of the Wayuu lives in the rivers. When the river disappears, this goddess can no longer be invoked.”

The use of international arbitration mechanisms (ISDS) demonstrates how the defence of Indigenous rights clashes with the global investment protection regime, which grants corporations asymmetrical legal advantages over States.

The use of international arbitration mechanisms (ISDS) demonstrates how the defence of Indigenous rights clashes with the global investment protection regime.

In its ruling, the Court instructed the company, the authorities, and the affected communities to work together to find a solution to the most contentious issues. Instead of complying with the decision, however, Anglo American and Glencore launched international legal action against Colombia. The companies resorted to a mechanism of public international law that grants foreign investors the right to initiate arbitration proceedings against the host State. The basis of their claims was that the State had altered the conditions under which the investment was made, thereby undermining the investors’ legitimate expectations of profit. The companies argued that the Court’s decision amounted to a measure equivalent to indirect expropriation without compensation, even though it was grounded in national constitutional norms designed primarily to protect human rights and the environment.

The use of international arbitration mechanisms (ISDS) demonstrates how the defence of Indigenous rights clashes with the global investment protection regime, which grants corporations asymmetrical legal advantages over States. In their investor–State arbitration claims, Glencore and Anglo American described ruling SU-698/17 as “discriminatory and unreasonable”, invoking bilateral investment treaties to safeguard their economic interests over and above human rights.

Failure to Uphold the Spirit of the Court’s Ruling

In April 2022, a report by the Interinstitutional Technical Committee, chaired by the Ministry of Environment, revealed that the Bruno Stream would remain diverted into an artificial channel. The José Alvear Restrepo Lawyers’ Collective commented: “The Committee expects the ‘purpose of the Court’s ruling’ to be fulfilled. In turn, they note that the recommendations regarding ‘the Wayuu people’s world vision, spiritual and cultural aspects’ have already been incorporated into the study with contributions from the La Horqueta community. In exchange for the permanent destruction of the Bruno Stream’s natural ecosystem, the company offers, as ‘compensation’ measures, the construction of a ritual site and the expansion of nurseries.”

Organisations such as the José Alvear Restrepo Lawyers’ Collective interpreted this outcome as a failure to uphold the spirit of the Court’s ruling and as a precursor to the international arbitration claims previously initiated by Glencore and Anglo American against the Colombian State. However, the international arbitration proceedings brought by the companies against the Constitutional Court’s decision were closed in 2023. This occurred in the context of negotiations with President Gustavo Petro regarding the mine’s future, as part of a “planned energy transition” under the new government.

A report by Censat Agua Viva estimates that El Cerrejón consumes some 30 million litres of water per day —approximately 40% of the water available in the region— while thousands of families lack access to drinking water.

El Cerrejón consumes some 30 million litres of water per day —approximately 40% of the water available in the region— while thousands of families lack access to drinking water.

Backed by administrative decisions, the Swiss company Glencore thus continued to divert the course of the Bruno Stream. Human rights organisations have interpreted this institutional support as a form of “state capture”: the lobbying efforts of El Cerrejón executives are believed to have influenced public entities to skew the outcome of the Interinstitutional Working Group (established by order of the Court itself) and secure approval for the stream’s diversion, disregarding the opposition of local communities.

A report by Censat Agua Viva estimates that El Cerrejón consumes some 30 million litres of water per day —approximately 40% of the water available in the region— while thousands of families lack access to drinking water. Water deprivation has been so severe that, in 2023, President Gustavo Petro publicly accused the company of being partly responsible for the deaths of “thousands of Wayuu children” from hunger and thirst. Although his remarks sparked political debate, they illustrate the scale of the humanitarian crisis perceived nationwide. Furthermore, neither El Cerrejón nor the Interinstitutional Committee took into account the Wayuu people’s spiritual connection to the rivers.

The War in Ukraine and German Imports

Historically, El Cerrejón was operated by a consortium of three mining giants: Anglo American, BHP Billiton, and Glencore. In January 2022, when Glencore acquired full ownership of the mine, it assumed complete responsibility for its social and environmental impacts. Weeks later, the war in Ukraine triggered a surge in Colombian coal demand from Germany. This spike contrasts sharply with the company’s legal actions: while benefiting from the boom, it was simultaneously litigating against Colombia through the ISDS mechanism for “losses” arising from the constitutional protection of the Bruno Stream.

By 2023, production had increased by 12%, and Glencore announced its intention to operate the mine until 2034. As of August 2025, Glencore remains the sole owner, despite international lawsuits and political pressure. Current output stands at approximately 24 million tonnes per year (2024). Although this is below the historical peak of 32 million tonnes reached in 2015, it represents a significant revival compared with pre-Ukraine war levels, when the mine was on a path toward gradual closure. However, this development contrasts with the European trend of progressively reducing coal consumption in favour of renewable energy. Coal from El Cerrejón is a structurally declining resource, yet its extraction continues to leave irreversible impacts on the Guajira desert.

To date, the mine’s record reveals a pattern of forced displacements, pollution, unfulfilled compensation promises, and extensive use of corporate social responsibility rhetoric.

The mine’s record reveals a pattern of forced displacements, pollution, unfulfilled compensation promises, and extensive use of corporate social responsibility rhetoric.

With the entry into force in January 2023 of the Lieferkettensorgfaltspflichtengesetz (LKSG), the “German Supply Chain Due Diligence Act”, the El Cerrejón case acquired even greater significance. This legislation requires large German companies to ensure that their global supply chains are free from serious human rights violations and environmental damage. In practice, this means that companies that are importing coal from El Cerrejón, such as EnBW, Uniper, and STEAG, are now accountable for complaints raised by the Wayuu communities.

This framework also serves as a test of the effectiveness of international norms against the reality of abuses. To date, the mine’s record reveals a pattern of forced displacements, pollution, unfulfilled compensation promises, and extensive use of corporate social responsibility rhetoric. Glencore and its partners have implemented various “sustainability” initiatives, yet German and Colombian critics denounce these as greenwashing. The German Bundestag has questioned the fact that Glencore’s claims of compliance with the UN Guiding Principles contrast sharply with reports of disease, hunger, and displacement in La Guajira.

Governance and Social Struggles

The conflict surrounding El Cerrejón cannot be understood solely as an environmental dispute. It represents a relational space in which the development vision of the Colombian State, the interests of a multinational corporation, and the survival of an Indigenous People converge. Within this space actors exercise different forms of power—economic, legal, and symbolic—and continuously negotiate meanings, including the very concept of “development”.

These negotiations do not take place between monolithic blocks. Wayuu demands have evolved from an initial call for financial compensation to a sophisticated assertion of ethnic rights: autonomy, ancestral territory, and the right to define their own model of development. This “politics of identity-based claims” has enabled them to engage with the mining project without being entirely subordinated, strategically leveraging the multicultural framework of the 1991 Constitution to gain legitimacy.

German companies can no longer claim ignorance regarding the origin of their coal. The critical question is whether the law will serve as an effective instrument for the Wayuu or remain trapped in a web of bureaucracy and symbolic gestures.

German companies can no longer claim ignorance regarding the origin of their coal.

Despite these internal dynamics and the company’s divisive strategies, the Wayuu people have resisted by means of railway blockades, legal action, and international alliances. In 2015, they petitioned the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, which granted precautionary measures to protect Wayuu children from malnutrition and lack of water. In 2019, Colombia’s Constitutional Court recognised that pollution from El Cerrejón was violating fundamental rights: ruling T-614/2019 established that the mine infringed upon the rights to health, water, food, and a healthy environment. However, the enforcement of these rulings has been slow and selective.

In this context, Germany’s role is particularly significant. As both an importing country and now a regulator under the LKSG, its decisions directly affect local dynamics. German companies can no longer claim ignorance regarding the origin of their coal. The critical question is whether the law will serve as an effective instrument for the Wayuu or remain trapped in a web of bureaucracy and symbolic gestures.

The Double Standard of the Energy Transition

El Cerrejón epitomises the dilemmas of the global energy transition: as Europe seeks to reduce its dependence on Russian gas and shift towards “clean” energy sources, it is, in the short term, turning to Colombian coal, exacerbating the crisis in Indigenous communities. The impact on the Wayuu people is just one example among many across Latin America.

Recent events illustrate how local struggles over water, health, land, and spirituality intersect with global debates on corporate responsibility, climate justice, and sovereignty. The presidency of Gustavo Petro has once again placed the issue on the national agenda, linking the hunger and thirst of Wayuu children directly to mining exploitation. In Germany, the entry into force of the LKSG now provides an unprecedented opportunity to ensure that documented abuses do not go unaddressed.

The central question remains: can a transnational legal framework compel Glencore to respect Indigenous rights, or will the logic of global capital continue to prevail? Either way, the Wayuu struggle serves as a stark reminder that the energy transition cannot be a just one if those who pay the highest price are ignored.

The post El Cerrejón, the Wayuu struggle and coal for Germany: the double standards of the energy transition appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

It is for this reason that land acquisition for coal mining continues unabated. From 01 January to 18 December 2024, a total of 16,838.34 acres were acquired under the Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Act, 1957, for subsidiaries of the state-owned Coal India Limited. In that same year, another 17,371 acres were vested in the company. The amount of land acquired for private commercial coal mining over the same period is not known.

It was only in 2014 that India changed its policy on coal mining to introduce auction-based allotment and to allow private sector participation, albeit only for captive usage in its own end-use plants. In 2020, in the midst of COVID-19, the policy was further changed, and India opened the door to commercial coal mining by private players. In the first-ever auction of commercial mining on 18 June 2020, some 20 coal mines were allocated to private companies. As of December 2024, a total of 113 coal mines had been auctioned under the commercial mining regime. Further, the Ministry of Coal has now also launched an 11^th round of auctions, putting 27 coal mines up for grabs on 05 December 2024.

Impact on Indigenous Peoples and Forested Lands

Most of India’s coal lies beneath forested lands inhabited by Indigenous Peoples. These lands are being leased and acquired without proper respect for free, prior and informed consent, as mandated by the Forest Rights Act (FRA) 2006 and the Provisions of the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act (PESA) 1996. Section 4 of PESA and Section 3(2) of the FRA make it mandatory to seek the consent of affected communities through the Gram Sabha or Panchayat for extractive projects. In practice, however, consent is too often sought only once the auctions are complete, thus reducing it to a procedural step focused on compensation and resettlement — a fait accompli that has sparked protests and serious human rights violations across the country.

I. Hasdeo Arand Forest, Chhattisgarh

This forest, located in the state of Chhattisgarh in central India, spans an area of 170,000 hectares and is home to the Gond, Lohar, and Oraon communities. These Indigenous Peoples have been opposing coal mining due to the loss of their livelihoods, forced displacement, and environmental destruction. The area, which comprises 23 coal blocks, was designated a “no-go” zone for mining in 2009 due to its ecological significance. In 2015, 20 Gram Sabhas (village assemblies) passed resolutions against the auction of coal mines but they were ignored.

A year later, the state government cancelled the community forest rights granted to Ghatbarra village, alleging that the villagers were “obstructing” mining operations, something for which there is no provision within the law. Despite initial protections, operations began in the Parsa East and Kente Basan (PEKB) blocks. In 2020 and 2021, the Parsa block received forest clearance permits and, in 2022, the state government gave its final approval. The project is operated by the state-owned Rajasthan Rajya Vidyut Utpadan Nigam Limited (RVUNL), in partnership with the private company Adani Mining, owned by Gautam Adani, one of the richest men in India and the world.

On 26 July 2022, the Chhattisgarh state assembly passed a unanimous resolution against mining in Hasdeo. However, in 2023, tree felling resumed for the expansion of PEKB. The protests were suppressed: on 22 December 2023, several Indigenous activists were detained and, in October 2024, a new demonstration ended in violent clashes with more than 400 police personnel deployed.

II. Deocha-Pachami-Dewanganj-Harinsingha coal-mining project, West Bengal

Located in the state of West Bengal, on the border with Bangladesh, this project is poised to become India’s largest (and the world’s second-largest) coal deposit, with estimated reserves of 2,100 million tonnes spread over 12.3 square kilometres. In the Birbhum district, the project is expected to displace some 21,000 individuals, predominantly from the Santhal tribal community. In February 2022, over 1,000 people gathered to protest against the forced land acquisition. The government responded with a compensation and rehabilitation package. In March, women blocked work at the project site by placing a charka (a stick with hay, a traditional symbol of resistance) to denounce the lack of dialogue and compensation.

III. Bijahan Coal Mining Project, Odisha

In the state of Odisha, on the Bay of Bengal, the Bijahan project, promoted by Mahanadi Mines & Minerals Pvt. Ltd., an Adani Group subsidiary, plans to clear 608 hectares of forest in order to extract 327 million tonnes of coal. It will cost an estimated US$310 million and will affect around 450 families from four villages, most of whom are Indigenous. In the Bhograkachhar community, only four households have been granted forest rights titles and, in Jharpalam, applications for titles remain unanswered. The situation is particularly distressing for those who face a second displacement, having first been displaced in the 1950s due to the Hirakud Multipurpose Hydro Electric Project. In January 2025, the villagers boycotted the Gram Sabha meeting called to approve the project.

IV. Gondalpara Opencast Coal Mining Project, Jharkhand

In the Hazaribagh district, this opencast coal mining project, initiated by Adani Enterprises, has been opposed by the affected Indigenous Peoples. The project is expected to affect between 500 and 1,950 households, including many from Indigenous communities. In August 2024, local villagers expressed their opposition to the project and, indeed, any industrial development in the area, citing threats to their fertile land and forests. In response, the government decided to establish a new police station in the area to protect Adani’s interests from local protests.

Coal’s Injustice: Indigenous Rights and India’s Energy Future

The struggles in Hasdeo Arand, Deocha-Pachami, Bijahan, and Gondalpara are not isolated incidents but symptoms of a systemic disregard for Indigenous rights amidst rising energy demands. The cancellation of recognised forest rights, dismissal of Gram Sabha resolutions, and use of state machinery to suppress protests highlights the deep power imbalance and erosion of democratic processes.

This approach not only perpetuates human rights violations but also endangers irreplaceable ecological and cultural heritage, as vast forested areas vital to biodiversity and Indigenous identity are sacrificed. These cases illustrate how coal mining destroys homes, livelihoods, ancestral lands, forests, and ways of life. Compensation in no way restores what has been lost and the communities continue to bear the cost of the nation’s economic ambitions.

Indigenous Peoples have been fighting back but this has often historically been a losing battle. India must find alternative energy sources in order to protect the Indigenous Peoples’ rich diversity, ensuring that the pursuit of national progress does not continue to burden them and decimate their unique way of life disproportionately.

The post India’s Coal Energy Needs Target Indigenous Peoples appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

This area affects the territories of three Indigenous Peoples: the Achuar of the Pastaza and Corrientes rivers, the Inga of the Pastaza, and the Kichwa of the Tigre. Their approach to addressing these impacts is far from purely economic. Managing these processes presents a complex challenge in which politics, social movements, science, technology, investment, culture, and the economy intersect in often tense ways.

In response, some communities have chosen to fight for the remediation of oil-affected areas that have permanently altered their environments and ways of life. Their struggle has exposed, with scientific rigour and cultural clarity, the full scale and cost of hydrocarbon operations. The magnitude of this reality is unprecedented, challenging extractive promotion, environmental policies, and creating ongoing cycles of setbacks and progress in remediation efforts. Through this continuous struggle, Indigenous Peoples drive the advancement of public policies in scientific, social, and cultural terms, reshaping approaches historically marked by colonial and racist biases.

Ultimately, this highlights the challenge every community faces when coexisting with extractive activities, the intricate struggle for territorial restoration, and the conditions necessary for an energy transition that honours memory and justice.

The Struggle and the Law

Since 1971, communities in the territory of Lot 192 have been affected by various private operators and a regulatory framework whose permissiveness and extractive focus have resulted in heavily damaged lands. Between 2006 and 2007, confronted with inadequate environmental oversight and driven by social mobilisations and alliances with national and international civil society, local communities began organising independent monitoring efforts—without State support and entirely separate from the oil companies. Leaders in these areas started systematically documenting and reporting oil spills across their territories.

In response, Indigenous Peoples embraced new communication technologies, mastered formal protocols for sample collection, and obtained training in the relevant regulations and institutional reporting procedures. Through these territorial monitoring practices, they brought to light, using scientific evidence, the environmental disaster in which they had been living—previously concealed by the companies. By 2011, more than 100 affected sites had been documented, and this number grew exponentially, reaching 1,209 formal complaints by 2020.

The companies did not act responsibly; instead, they exploited regulatory gaps and legal loopholes to evade accountability, delay action, and avoid addressing the environmental disaster.

The companies did not act responsibly; instead, they exploited regulatory gaps and legal loopholes to evade accountability, delay action, and avoid addressing the environmental disaster.

The scale of the damage reported by Indigenous organisations, based on community-led monitoring, was so vast and hazardous that health and environmental emergency declarations were issued across several years. However, these complaints and emergency measures—intended to compel the oil companies to act—proved insufficient. The companies did not act responsibly; instead, they exploited regulatory gaps and legal loopholes to evade accountability, delay action, and avoid addressing the environmental disaster.

In this context, in 2015, as the oil contract for Lot 192 neared its end and a new operator prepared to take over, the communities mobilised. Using data collected by community monitors and validated by regulatory authorities, they demanded that the State establish minimum conditions before allowing operations to continue. One of these demands led to the enactment of Law 30,321, designed to ensure environmental remediation in the Lot’s river basins. Following PUINAMUDT’s sustained advocacy and the submission of a compliance record, the law was enacted in mid-2015 and formally regulated in 2016.

Law 30,321 and Its Implementation

Law 30,321 is a modern, progressive regulation with high standards of participation, developed with the active input of the Indigenous Peoples affected in Lots 192 and 8. The law established an Administrative Board in which Indigenous representatives, supported by specialist technical advisors, co-govern alongside public sector bodies, including the Ministry of Environment (MINAM), the Ministry of Energy and Mines (MINEM), and the Health, Sanitation, Housing, and Agricultural authorities. Within this framework, communities are involved at every stage: from designing the tender processes for the hire of remediation companies to drafting the terms of reference for environmental studies; from planning training programmes to implementing them for the remediation of the highest-risk sites and overseeing ongoing monitoring.

The law also created a dedicated remediation fund, held in a trust and jointly managed by all members of the Board. During implementation, community monitors and local enterprises actively participate, providing services to the private entities carrying out the studies and remediation works. Under the law, if companies fail to take responsibility for high-risk sites, the State must intervene to carry out remediation, ensuring accountability is maintained: once a responsible party is identified, the State has the right to recover the corresponding costs.

Unlike previous studies conducted by oil companies, the community-led technical studies provided the first rigorous assessment of the specific impacts in the area.

Unlike previous studies conducted by oil companies, the community-led technical studies provided the first rigorous assessment of the specific impacts in the area.

Following the enactment of Law 30,321, the first 32 affected sites were identified in 2017. These sites were made public so that the companies responsible could begin studies under higher quality standards. Some had already been cleaned and mitigated by the oil companies but the supervisory authority confirmed that contamination remained, posing serious environmental and health risks. Unfortunately, no company accepted responsibility so, under Law 30,321, the State and Indigenous Peoples proceeded to conduct rehabilitation studies. For the first time in Peru, 32 Rehabilitation Plans (PR) were jointly developed.

Unlike previous studies conducted by oil companies, the community-led technical studies provided the first rigorous assessment of the specific impacts in the area. The contamination volumes identified totalled 364,749 cubic metres, equivalent to 24,316 truckloads. The sites also present carcinogenic risks to children, adults, and hunting communities. Currently, more than 112 additional high-risk sites have been identified, awaiting the preparation of new studies. These sites cover 698 hectares—15 times larger than the entire area of the Vatican City (44 hectares). How could the State have allowed such damage to accumulate for so long on Indigenous territory?

A Wait that Frustrates: Blockages in the Implementation of Law 30,321

Science aimed at protecting health and the environment identifies, characterises, quantifies, and assesses risks. Although rooted in Western knowledge systems, it has compelled Indigenous Peoples to develop a new horizon of technical expertise. And yet producing these studies involves particular tensions and sets limits on this reconfiguration. While the State co-produced the Rehabilitation Plans (PR) using a multisectoral approach, the validation of these documents falls to the Ministry of Energy and Mines (MINEM), creating bottlenecks under pressure from the industry. When the PRs for the 32 priority sites were submitted in 2019, MINEM delayed their review, slowing the process for several years.

Moreover, the production of new Rehabilitation Plans has effectively stalled. Between 2019 and 2024, the State approved only 19 plans and has produced none since. This has led to ongoing academic, political, and cultural debates; delays in funding for continued action; shortages of technical and scientific resources within the State; and a lack of political will and modernisation in public administration regarding environmental issues. These delays have also fostered a mistrust towards the State and triggered attacks on the organisations driving the remediation agenda, as if they were responsible for delivering and approving the studies themselves.

The communities and their organisations have made it unequivocally clear that if the State fails to remediate the sites despite having the necessary funds, oil operations will not resume on their territories.

the communities and their organisations have made it unequivocally clear that if the State fails to remediate the sites despite having the necessary funds, oil operations will not resume on their territories.

By contrast, the experience of the Fund’s Administrative Board has proven far more effective than that of the oil companies, which continue to accumulate remediation plans that are repeatedly rejected, poorly executed, or approved under minimal standards. Although the Fund holds resources allocated by previous governments—over 400 million soles (just over 100 million USD)—two years after the approval of several Rehabilitation Plans (PR), remediation has begun at only a single site, while the tendering process for subsequent sites is still pending.

Despite these delays, the law’s slow implementation has not led to passivity. Communities have steadily expanded their participation on the Board by including additional organisations, promoted the use of funds for local training, and worked alongside PROFONANPE to exert pressure on MINEM. Furthermore, the communities and their organisations have made it unequivocally clear that if the State fails to remediate the sites despite having the necessary funds, oil operations will not resume on their territories.

Towards a Transition with Memory

The environmental science developed in collaboration with Indigenous communities has exposed the full scale of ecological damage, challenging the so-called “benefits” that oil extractivism often touts as a promise of development. According to the regulatory authority overseeing the Canon and Oil Royalties, oil operations in Lot 192 have generated just over 2 billion soles (571 million USD) for the Regional Government of Loreto. Yet only a tiny fraction of this has reached the communities, much of it lost along the way to officials’ pockets or spent on projects located in cities far from Indigenous territories.

At the same time, MINEM asserts that tackling the 144 sites identified under Law 30,321 will require more than 6 billion soles (1.7 billion USD). Alarmingly, this investment is projected to be deployed over a 42-year period, leaving future generations of Indigenous Peoples to shoulder the burden of contamination. The situation is even more dire considering that these 144 sites represent only a small fraction of the total number of sites affected in the lot. Economically, socially and environmentally, oil operations in Amazonian territories are wholly unsustainable.

Any energy transition that seeks to replace oil-based systems with more sustainable ones cannot proceed without memory.

Any energy transition that seeks to replace oil-based systems with more sustainable ones cannot proceed without memory.

Struggles in oil-producing regions such as Lot 192 teach us that Indigenous Peoples are fully capable of engaging with the modernity of science and the State. Carried out collectively—through mobilisation, public dialogue, and a blend of cultural, technical and scientific expertise—this struggle has achieved two key milestones. First, it has demonstrated the effectiveness of collaborative work between the State and Indigenous Peoples in scientifically analysing the damage caused by oil extraction. Second, it has exposed the colonial bias embedded within the energy sector, which remains resistant to change and incapable of reforming its processes to urgently address fundamental violations of rights.

Within this context, any energy transition that seeks to replace oil-based systems with more sustainable ones cannot proceed without memory. It must not ignore the environmental debt left by the oil “civilization” of Indigenous territories—a debt that continues to impose unbearable costs on communities whose future generations will keep fighting for recognition and reparations.

This article was revised by the Apus of PUINAMUDT and its technical team.
Special thanks to Angela Vilca, Andrea Cier, Fernando Torres, Renato Pita, and Frederica Barclay.

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“Capitalism has succeeded in convincing us that we’re not worth saving” Naomi Klein**

Guided by its just transition policy, the United Nations aims to phase out the fossil fuel economy (oil, gas, coal). To achieve this, the public and private sectors are building a renewable and “green” economy. However, this requires vast quantities of transition minerals, placing enormous pressure on land, forests and Indigenous communities, whose territories hold 54 percent of the minerals the world needs for the energy transition.

Moreover, the contradiction is that the extraction of minerals for “green technologies” relies on the same destructive practices that defined the fossil fuel economy. The experiences of and testimonies from communities in the “Lithium Triangle” (Chile, Argentina, and Bolivia) and Brazil (in the Jequitinhonha Valley and the Amazon) show that this approach does not end the creation of sacrifice zones: it merely shifts them, expands frontiers, and weakens legal protections.

The intensive use of water aquifers and subsoil sources, along with highly polluting mining processes, is thus resulting in devastating loss and damage in Indigenous territories. This reality exposes a fundamental hypocrisy of the “just transition”, because it is built on unjust foundations, replicating the same patterns of ecological and social violence that it seeks to overcome, and undermining the ethical principle that no one should be left behind in climate objectives.

The Mineral Rush and the Re-creation of Sacrifice Zones

These questions become even more urgent in the context of the extraction of transition minerals such as copper, cobalt, nickel, and lithium. In South America, particularly in Chile, Bolivia, Argentina, and Brazil, expanding lithium mining operations are posing serious threats to the health of Indigenous territories, disrupting fundamental biomes where biocultural balance is key to tackling climate change impacts, such as increasing heat.

These regions, which supply large amounts of lithium (a crucial metal for electric vehicle and computer batteries), are rapidly becoming new sacrifice zones, endangering vital water sources, unique forests, and the cultural fabric of Indigenous communities. This pattern of creating sacrifice zones is also evident in the fossil fuel economy, where extraction, refining, and waste from oil, gas, and coal have disproportionately contaminated Indigenous lands and waterways.

Sacrifice zones involve “an all-too-familiar pattern of disregard for the people that inhabit these desert areas, masking an exploitation of their land that goes back to the beginning of the so-called westward expansion”.

Sacrifice zones involve “a pattern of disregard for the people that inhabit desert areas, masking an exploitation of their land”.

The unresolved management of nuclear waste thus has its parallel in transition mineral mining and tailings management. All of this perpetuates the crisis and exposes the clash between state policies, corporate activities, and Indigenous sacred sites. Indeed, non-governmental organisations, academics, and Indigenous advocates have been denouncing the fact that most of these indirect impacts of mining waste are intentionally being ignored by governments and policymakers.

The negative impacts sometimes explicitly form part of state or corporate strategies to displace communities from their traditional territories. In the words of sociologists Robert D. Bullard and Valerie Kuletz, sacrifice zones involve “an all-too-familiar pattern of disregard for the people that inhabit these desert areas, masking an exploitation of their land that goes back to the beginning of the so-called westward expansion”.

Lithium Extraction and Indigenous Resistance in South America

Lithium is an essential component of renewable energy technologies, often found on or near Indigenous territories. In the Jequitinhonha River Valley in Minas Gerais (Brazil), companies are developing several lithium mines, with 17 pits planned. Activist Djama Arana, from the local community, describes how the government and corporations are turning the valley into a “sacrifice zone”, repeating patterns of environmental destruction driven by economic interests.

Similarly, in the “Lithium Triangle”, which covers parts of Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile, Indigenous communities are facing threats to their lands and livelihoods. Over 400 Indigenous Peoples inhabit this region, yet many do not hold the legal title to their ancestral lands. Nati Machaca, a protester in Purmamarca (Argentina), voices her concerns regarding the environmental impacts, highlighting the severe ecological damage caused by lithium extraction: “Our land is drying up, and our water is contaminated.”

Recycling and repurposing lithium from used batteries could reduce mining, although neither industry nor governments seem interested in investing in recycling, claiming it to be more expensive. Economic cost appears to be the only one they consider.

Recycling and repurposing lithium from used batteries could reduce mining, although neither industry nor governments seem interested in investing in recycling.

The lithium mining boom in the Jequitinhonha Valley in Minas Gerais is bringing serious challenges to Indigenous and traditional communities. The rapid expansion of mining threatens the environment: daily air pollution, high temperatures, destruction of the local ecosystem, and dead rivers where communities once fished, swam, and practised rituals. When I visited the area last July, I witnessed firsthand the impacts: cracked walls in homes, elderly residents with respiratory issues, and communities stripped of their cultural and spiritual connection to the land.

Lithium is extracted from hard rocks (Brazil) or from lithium-rich brines (Lithium Triangle). Global demand for lithium has soared due to the push toward electric vehicles, although the exact amount needed remains uncertain. This underlines the urgency of strengthening the legal protection of Indigenous land rights and promoting sustainable mining practices. Recycling and repurposing lithium from used batteries could reduce mining, although neither industry nor governments seem interested in investing in recycling, claiming it is more expensive. Economic cost appears to be the only one they consider.

Ecocide under the Guise of “Green Energy”

Despite international legal frameworks such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), Indigenous communities often find themselves excluded from decision-making processes, with governments failing to enforce the right to Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC). As with nuclear power, the exploitation of lithium for electric vehicles highlights the political, military and economic benefits of these resources, which overshadow the social and environmental harm they cause.

Ecocide and cultural genocide are replicated under the guise of “green energy”, as Indigenous lands are transformed into sacrifice zones. This exploitation is also evident in the Jequitinhonha Valley, where lithium mining is contaminating water sources vital to local communities, and in the Lithium Triangle, where water-intensive mining is endangering the sustainability of Indigenous ways of life. Both regions reflect a colonial pattern of resource plundering whereby economic gain elsewhere comes at the expense of Indigenous survival and environmental health.

A development model based on resource extraction for export is being reproduced, and on the biocultural and economic impoverishment of local communities, reflecting the colonial pattern of the fossil fuel economy.

A development model based on resource extraction for export and the biocultural and economic impoverishment of local communities is being reproduced.

The re-creation of sacrifice zones by the transition mineral industry is similar to those created by oil drilling and coal mining. Both lead to land grabs, water depletion, and pollution: from the draining of aquifers and water sources by lithium mining in the Atacama Desert and Jequitinhonha, to the human rights violations of cobalt mining in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

A development model based on resource extraction for export and on the biocultural and economic impoverishment of local communities is thus being reproduced, reflecting the colonial pattern of the fossil fuel economy. It is a schizophrenic climate solution whereby the environmental benefits of renewables are enjoyed in the so-called Global North (excluding Arctic Indigenous Peoples, who face the same issues as their relatives in the south), while the high environmental and social costs are borne by Indigenous communities and populations of the Global South.

The Indigenous Overarching Principles to Solve the Problem

To face up to this dire scenario, Indigenous Peoples have been advocating for the powerful overarching principle of an holistic approach. To describe this approach, I highlight three proposals from the Indigenous Peoples Dialogue (an event that happened in February 2025 and was coordinated by my team at Cultural Survival and SIRGE Coalition):

The non-negotiable governance standard of the Free Prior, and Informed Consent. FPIC is the legal-political tool with which to defend the rights of Indigenous Peoples. It has become the central pillar of Indigenous territorial advocacy and governance, enshrined in international laws such as UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169. FPIC is not a simple checklist or consultation protocol: it is based on the right to self-determination and governance, which means the power to say “no” to projects that harm their lands and livelihoods. The debate is not whether a project will happen, but whether it should happen at all. The right and decision-making power belongs to the community, not to the corporations.

The Indigenous stewardship model instead of a resource-driven model.  The extractivist model is fundamentally opposed to Indigenous worldviews, especially those of the Atacameño peoples and the communities of Jequitinhonha. They inhabit these territories not to manage resources but to develop and maintain relationships, responsibilities, and reciprocity (the three “R”s of development from an Indigenous perspective). This model shifts the goal from resource extraction to territorial integrity for life.

The legal and political imagination solution: a rights-based approach for humans and more-than-humans. This point has a deep ontological connection to the previous one. The problem with conventional legal frameworks (even FPIC) is that they ignore context and are based on concessions, not reciprocity and care. They are designed to regulate extraction, not to prevent it. They therefore set “acceptable” levels of harm, pollution, and violations, making destruction measurable and legalisable.

The Transition from a Rights-Based Approach

The Indigenous movement has been proposing strong advocacy and litigation, together with a creative and courageous interpretation of international laws and policies with which to transform the legal and political landscape. Communities in Chile, Bolivia, Argentina, and Brazil are fighting for the rights of their river ancestors and their forest relatives because, from our perspective, they sustain life: human life in healthy and safe conditions. Technology cannot do that.

The exploitation of Indigenous lands to satisfy global economic demands, without sufficient legal protections or respect for Indigenous rights, is a reality. A just transition cannot be hypocritically built upon the very violation it seeks to solve: that generated by the fossil fuel exploitation model. The sourcing of lithium for electric vehicles and other technologies, including military drones, poses this stark paradox and contradiction: its extraction is harming peoples and environments from South America to Africa and even Europe.

A truly just transition must therefore be rooted in a rights-based approach that recognises that the integrity of life in territories is non-negotiable. Humanity must demand circular economies, reduced consumption, and alternative technologies that do not simply shift the burden of extraction from one right to another.

The post The similarities between the Transition Minerals and Fossil Fuel Economies and their Impacts on Indigenous Peoples: the Case of Lithium appeared first on Debates Indígenas.

PINGO’s Forum conducted field research using a mixed-methods approach, including Key Informant Interviews with community leaders, Focus Group Discussions to gather collective perspectives, and Direct Community Engagement through open dialogues with affected individuals. Special emphasis was placed on inclusivity, ensuring the participation of women, youth, and marginalised groups in order to capture diverse voices and experiences.

The study captured responses from three principal regions: Manyara (35%), Dodoma (33%) and Tanga (31%), reflecting a broadly balanced participation across the surveyed areas. Variations in regional representation may reflect differing levels of access during data collection. In some communities, EACOP’s reportedly strong local engagement may have influenced cooperation with external researchers, while security constraints linked to the project limited our ability to reach certain zones. These dynamics highlight the challenges of ensuring fully inclusive participation in high-stakes development contexts.

Community Consultation and Participation in EACOP

The study recorded a notable gender disparity: 69% male and 27% female respondents. The remaining respondents either did not specify their gender or identified differently. This imbalance may reflect broader societal and cultural barriers to women’s participation in consultations, and occupational biases in project-affected roles (for example, land negotiations are often male-dominated).

Our fact-finding study found that only 23% of respondents were consulted during EACOP’s planning or implementation, while 30% explicitly stated that they were excluded. Engagement was largely limited to community meetings (18%), with minimal individual or household-level participation (household surveys 4%; interviews 1%). 

These findings reveal systemic flaws in the consultation process that fail to meet FPIC standards—especially for marginalised groups with low literacy and limited project awareness.

These findings reveal systemic flaws in the consultation process that fail to meet FPIC standards—especially for marginalised groups with low literacy and limited project awareness.

The quality of inclusion was rated poorly: 22% described consultations as “not inclusive at all” and only 1% rated them “very inclusive”. Critically, just 4% believed their feedback influenced project decisions, 25% said their views were ignored, and 30% remained uncertain. Major barriers to meaningful participation included language difficulties (25%), a lack of access to information (18%), and limited community representation (6%); some respondents described consultations as performative, characterising them as “collective gatherings that were not inclusive”. 

These findings reveal systemic flaws in the consultation process that fail to meet FPIC standards—especially for marginalised groups with low literacy (52% with no formal education) and limited project awareness (32% initially unaware of EACOP). Community members reported that they felt they had no power to decide whether the project should proceed.

Impact of EACOP on Livelihoods

Our study reveals that 43% of participants experienced negative livelihood impacts from EACOP, predominantly through loss of grazing land (34%) and displacement (13%). Exhumations of graves have caused profound cultural disruption: “We were shocked — this has never happened on Maasai land!” said Lukas Sonyo, whose father’s grave was dug up for the pipeline. Promised funds for proper reburial rituals were not forthcoming, leaving families to mourn with diminished, culturally inappropriate ceremonies. The severity of impact was notable: 29% described the effects as significant, 5% as moderate and 1% as severe — impacts that disproportionately affected pastoralist households.

Compensation systems have failed to match these impacts, with only 23% receiving any redress and 27% confirming they had received none. Among the few who were compensated, satisfaction was deeply divided: a mere 9% considered compensation adequate, whilst 5% deemed it inadequate and another 9% were uncertain — a division that underscores the confusion and dissatisfaction among even those who reported payments. High non-response rates likely conceal additional uncompensated cases thus weakening the transparency of redress processes.

When combined with the 38% non-responses, these figures paint a picture of systemic redress failures, particularly for land-dependent groups (69% of respondents) whose cultural-economic ties to territory defy conventional valuation methods. 43% of families lost grazing land, whilst only 9% feel they received fair compensation. Crucially, all surveyed communities reported that EACOP’s promised social programmes had not materialised.

Lack of Compensation and Poor Working Conditions

The study reveals significant shortcomings in EACOP’s local employment initiatives, with 34% of respondents confirming no job opportunities had been created for community members, whilst 36% stated that no one in their household had been employed by the project or its contractors. Accessibility remains a major concern, as 21% reported exclusionary hiring practices, and 12% were unsure if opportunities were equally available. Furthermore, 21% viewed local employment benefits as unfair, and 14% remained uncertain. The absence of capacity-building programmes (34% confirmed no training initiatives) only exacerbates these issues.

In Gorimba village, a youth representative involved in EACOP issues reported that overtime wages agreed in contracts were not being honoured. He stated: “Before starting work, we agreed on a specific amount of money for a set time, for example, from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM. However, at the end of the agreed time, if there is leftover work, they tell us to finish it and promise to compensate us for overtime. But they never pay us for the extra time.”

The study reveals significant shortcomings in EACOP’s local employment initiatives, with 34% of respondents confirming no job opportunities had been created for community members, whilst 36% stated that no one in their household had been employed by the project or its contractors.

The study reveals significant shortcomings in EACOP’s local employment initiatives, with 34% of respondents confirming no job opportunities had been created for community members.

Othman, a 25-year-old from Kitwai B village, discovered an online training opportunity advertised by EACOP. Due to poor network connectivity, he travelled approximately 20km to climb a baobab tree to access the courses, later travelling 75km to Orkesumet to continue his studies safely.

Despite completing all nine modules with an impressive 98% average and being announced as selected for a three-month course at VETA Moshi during an EACOP quarterly engagement workshop in Arusha, Othman was ultimately not selected for unknown and seemingly biased reasons. This decision contradicted EACOP’s signed plan, which prioritises employment opportunities for affected Indigenous communities.

Grave Injustice: Cultural Desecration in Sendeni Village

Lukas Sonyo, a 52-year-old man from Sendeni village in Handeni, experienced one of EACOP’s most profound cultural violations. When the pipeline route was planned in 2021, it was discovered that it would pass through the grave of his father, who had passed away in January 2013. The family, unwilling to accept the exhumation—a practice unheard of in Maasai culture—requested that the route be diverted. EACOP refused, insisting instead on traditional reburial rituals. Lukas expressed their shock: “We were shocked because we have never experienced, witnessed, or heard of anything like this on Maasai land.””

EACOP compensated the extended family with 1.8 million Tanzanian shillings—grossly inadequate for a household that included two surviving wives and four married sons with their families, totalling over 20 members. The company’s support has been limited to 10kg of rice, 10kg of maize, and 3 litres of cooking oil per month, ignoring the family’s size and cultural needs.

Although EACOP pledged to cover the costs of proper reburial ceremonies, involving slaughtering a bull and anointing the deceased with its oil, they defaulted, forcing the family to use a goat instead—a profound cultural compromise.

Unfulfilled Promises

Kitwai B was recognised as the only village affected in Simanjiro District and participated in the signing of an agreement on 28 October 2021. However, after the village chairperson filed a complaint on 25 June 2024 regarding compensation issues and the loss of 6km of grazing land, EACOP’s response on 11 November 2024 stated: “There is currently no verified basis for recognising Kitwai B as being affected by the project”, even whilst continuing to invite their representatives to engagement workshops. Another case involves a church in Tanga that was affected by EACOP’s activities. Compensation was provided but it was unfairly awarded to a single individual rather than the church community. Similarly, compensation for Aulo Oo Nkishu—a shared communal space (100m to 200m compound next to a boma, used as an animal holding area and shared among families within the boma)—also went to only one person. These actions highlight unclear and unfair compensation practices by EACOP.

The pipeline passes just 351 steps from Sandawe ancestral land—a site of profound cultural and historical significance near a sacred rock inscribed in 1914 with the Sandawe phrase “Mokolo wa nkwe” (“Greet them”). Despite this proximity to their heritage, the Sandawe people have been systematically excluded from project consultations. This exclusion underscores a broader pattern of neglect in which Indigenous voices and ancestral traditions are erased in the name of progress.

“We see all the project plans and activities happening but we are not aware of what is going on with the Social Investment Programme. Will they implement it after the project is done? How can we be sure they will follow through?”

“We are not aware of what is going on with the Social Investment Programme. Will they implement it after the project is done? How can we be sure they will follow through?”

In a signed plan dated 16 September 2023, EACOP outlined its commitment to implement a Social Investment Programme for vulnerable ethnic groups. And yet 100% of the communities that PINGO’s Forum engaged with have raised concerns about unfulfilled promises under this programme. The study found severely limited community awareness and benefit from EACOP’s social investment programmes, with only 12% of respondents aware of any initiatives and 36% confirming that no benefits had reached their communities. Critically, 34% stated that these programmes had failed to address their most pressing needs such as schools, healthcare, and water access. One community member from Gisambalang village in Hanang District stated: “We see all the project plans and activities happening but we are not aware of what is going on with the Social Investment Programme. Will they implement it after the project is done? How can we be sure they will follow through?”

Conclusions and Recommendations

This research demonstrates EACOP’s systematic failure to respect Indigenous rights, to implement meaningful consultation processes, and to deliver the promised benefits to affected communities. The project’s approach contravenes international standards for Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) and has caused—and continues to cause—irreparable harm to Indigenous cultures and livelihoods.

These findings call for an immediate suspension of pipeline operations until proper FPIC has been secured from all affected Indigenous communities, together with an independent compensation review conducted with full Indigenous participation that audits past payments and identifies equitable remedies. 

The voices of Tanzania’s Indigenous Peoples must be heard and their rights respected; continuing on the current trajectory risks not progress but the systematic erasure of cultures that have stewarded these lands for generations.

Continuing on the current trajectory risks not progress, but the systematic erasure of cultures that have stewarded these lands for generations.

All EACOP staff and contractors must undertake mandatory Indigenous rights training, and transparent government oversight mechanisms should be established with Indigenous representation to ensure accountability. Finally, the commitments set out in the Social Investment Programme must be honoured with clear, time-bound implementation plans and independent monitoring.

The voices of Tanzania’s Indigenous Peoples must be heard and their rights respected; continuing on the current trajectory risks not progress but the systematic erasure of cultures that have stewarded these lands for generations.

The post The Social, Economic and Cultural Impact of EACOP on Indigenous Peoples in Tanzania appeared first on Debates Indígenas.