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Yahoo
an hour ago
- Politics
- Yahoo
To Protect Amazon from Drug Traffickers, Title Indigenous Lands, Report Says
Drug traffickers are violently seizing Indigenous lands in the Peruvian Amazon to clear rainforest and grow coca. To combat the drug trade, a new report calls for titling Indigenous territories along major trafficking routes. Since 2020, 27 Indigenous leaders in Peru have been assassinated, it is believed, for defending their land, including more than a dozen who were murdered in connection to drug trafficking, according to a new report published by Amazon Watch. 'We, the Indigenous defenders, face threats from drug traffickers when we speak out,' said Marcelo Odicio, an Indigenous Kakataibo leader. 'We are calling for real change in how this crisis is addressed.' Drug traffickers are able to seize land through organized invasions and cement their holdings with fraudulent contracts. More than 270 Indigenous communities in the Peruvian Amazon are at risk of being attacked and uprooted by drug traffickers, the report said. To protect native lands and stem the loss of forest, it called for titling Indigenous territories. Until recently, the U.S. Agency for International Development had been supporting Indigenous groups in Peru in combating deforestation related to the production of cocaine. But the recent dismantling of the agency, under President Donald Trump, has threatened to reinvigorate the drug trade, the Associated Press reports. U.S. Aid Cuts Are Hitting Global Conservation Projects Hard
Associated Press
19-05-2025
- Politics
- Associated Press
Ecuador to host Indigenous summit seeking enforcement of court's human rights rulings
Indigenous leaders from across Latin America will meet this week for talks on how to enforce legal rulings designed to enforce their rights to justice and territorial protection. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights, a regional tribunal that holds governments accountable for upholding human rights, has made decisions backing Indigenous peoples' rights — including to their ancestral lands, which they consider essential to preserve their culture and way of life — which are not being implemented by Latin America governments. There is growing concern that without stronger legal protections, government enforcement and adequate resources, the Costa Rica-based court's rulings will remain largely symbolic. Leaders from across the region will gather for a summit from May 21-25 in Quito, Ecuador, to discuss the obstacles to enforcing Inter-American Court rulings. The main aim will be to issue a collective statement calling on governments and institutions to ensure justice and territorial protection. 'This is very important for us because there are constitutional guarantees that favor Indigenous peoples. Even so, there has not been full compliance with the rulings,' Tulio Renato Viteri Gualinga, head of international relations for the Sarayaku Indigenous community, told The Associated Press. Nataly Yepes, a legal advisor for Amazon Watch, an organization that works to protect the rainforest, said the summit, which will be hosted by the Kichwa community of Sarayaku, marks a rare and valuable moment where Indigenous knowledge will inform discussions on strengthening justice systems across Latin America. 'What we hope is that this won't just be a one-off event, but rather the first step toward building an alternative and critical approach to traditional justice systems,' Yepes said, adding that that in times of democratic, institutional, and climate crises, Indigenous wisdom offers essential perspectives for more inclusive and resilient legal systems. Indigenous peoples, who in many cases have successfully managed and protected lands for millennia, have long argued that ensuring territorial rights is a climate solution. That argument has gained traction in international climate circles in recent years, though respective governments are sometimes slow or simply opposed to granting more territorial rights. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights rules on human rights violations across Latin America and the Caribbean. Its decisions are legally binding for member states of the Organization of American States, but enforcement often depends on political will at national level. Last month, the court condemned Ecuador for failing to protect the Tagaeri and Taromenane peoples in Yasuní National Park. In 2017, it ruled against Colombia for allowing oil exploration on U'wa ancestral lands without proper consultation. Other countries — including Nicaragua, Paraguay, Suriname, Argentina and Honduras — have also faced similar rulings, though enforcement across the region has often been slow or incomplete due to lack of political will, bureaucratic delays, and weak institutions. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
The Independent
19-05-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Ecuador to host Indigenous summit seeking enforcement of court's human rights rulings
Indigenous leaders from across Latin America will meet this week for talks on how to enforce legal rulings designed to enforce their rights to justice and territorial protection. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights, a regional tribunal that holds governments accountable for upholding human rights, has made decisions backing Indigenous peoples' rights — including to their ancestral lands, which they consider essential to preserve their culture and way of life — which are not being implemented by Latin America governments. There is growing concern that without stronger legal protections, government enforcement and adequate resources, the Costa Rica-based court's rulings will remain largely symbolic. Leaders from across the region will gather for a summit from May 21-25 in Quito, Ecuador, to discuss the obstacles to enforcing Inter-American Court rulings. The main aim will be to issue a collective statement calling on governments and institutions to ensure justice and territorial protection. 'This is very important for us because there are constitutional guarantees that favor Indigenous peoples. Even so, there has not been full compliance with the rulings,' Tulio Renato Viteri Gualinga, head of international relations for the Sarayaku Indigenous community, told The Associated Press. Nataly Yepes, a legal advisor for Amazon Watch, an organization that works to protect the rainforest, said the summit, which will be hosted by the Kichwa community of Sarayaku, marks a rare and valuable moment where Indigenous knowledge will inform discussions on strengthening justice systems across Latin America. 'What we hope is that this won't just be a one-off event, but rather the first step toward building an alternative and critical approach to traditional justice systems," Yepes said, adding that that in times of democratic, institutional, and climate crises, Indigenous wisdom offers essential perspectives for more inclusive and resilient legal systems. Indigenous peoples, who in many cases have successfully managed and protected lands for millennia, have long argued that ensuring territorial rights is a climate solution. That argument has gained traction in international climate circles in recent years, though respective governments are sometimes slow or simply opposed to granting more territorial rights. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights rules on human rights violations across Latin America and the Caribbean. Its decisions are legally binding for member states of the Organization of American States, but enforcement often depends on political will at national level. Last month, the court condemned Ecuador for failing to protect the Tagaeri and Taromenane peoples in Yasuní National Park. In 2017, it ruled against Colombia for allowing oil exploration on U'wa ancestral lands without proper consultation. Other countries — including Nicaragua, Paraguay, Suriname, Argentina and Honduras — have also faced similar rulings, though enforcement across the region has often been slow or incomplete due to lack of political will, bureaucratic delays, and weak institutions. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
The Guardian
24-03-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
Stop-and-search, fire ants and stinging nettles: doling out justice to illegal miners in Peru's Amazon
*** TheRené Amuan Santiago Tí remembers how, armed only with wooden spears, he and his companions disarmed a group of policemen as they drew their pistols, after they caught the officers escorting a barge full of illegal mining machinery. The guns went in the river. Disarming the police officers was a risky move, but the members of the Charip, as the Indigenous guards of the Wampis Nation people are known, were confident that something was amiss. Charip means lightning, and for the territorial defenders it symbolises the way they strike against invaders of their land along the Santiago River, in the far north of Peru on its Amazonian frontier with Ecuador. The three police officers, who were detained alongside Ecuadorian and Peruvian nationals in the incident in April 2024, were moonlighting as hired guns for illegal goldminers and were hundreds of miles from where they were based in Piura, a coastal region of Peru. The Wampis refused to release them until the government sent a high-level commission to address the problem of wildcat goldminers plundering and polluting their land. A few days later, a military helicopter carrying the deputy interior minister and the high commissioner against illegal mining touched down in Villa Gonzalo. Thousands of Wampis people had assembled in the village, its Charip warriors adorned in war paint. They demanded respect for their territory and action to expel the invaders. Nearly a year later, the Charip guardians – rather than the state – have exerted control. They use stop-and-search at a checkpoint to thin out the number of mining dredgers upriver, says Santiago Tí, leader of the band of less than a dozen men who work day and night. 'We welcome visitors but will not allow people who come to do us harm,' he says. 'If they come to extract gold or destroy our forest, then we are fierce. We are very protective of our forest.' The Wampis people face a conundrum. They are the only Indigenous people in Peru to have created their own territorial government – an act of self-determination and a response to the state's absence in the northern reaches of Condorcanqui province in the Amazonas region. But while they have shown resilience and organisation in confronting illegal miners, they do not have the firepower to take on the criminal gangs behind the gold rush that is reaching ever deeper into Amazon border regions, as the international gold price surpasses $3,000 (£2,300) an ounce this month, a record high. 'We are seeing how different criminal economies are expanding their presence, territorial control and political influence in the Amazon,' says Raphael Hoetmer, western Amazon programme director at the environmental group Amazon Watch. 'Organised crime is becoming a major threat to the global climate.' The autonomous territorial government of the Wampis Nation was formed in 2017, a 13,000 sq km (5,000 sq mile) stretch of mountain and lowland rainforest across the Santiago and Morona river basins, with a population of about 15,000 people in 22 titled communities. The nation was created under international laws that recognise the self-determination of Indigenous people, such as the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention, which was enshrined in the Peruvian constitution. River dredging for gold is prohibited in the territory, and the autonomous government has made clear its intention to seize and destroy any equipment found. What the Charip members lack in resources, they make up for in spirit. From a wooden shed that resembles a birdwatching hide perched on the brow of a riverbank, they look out across the river. All vessels that pass – from canoes powered by puttering peque-peque motors to larger chalupas that carry passengers and goods – must stop to be inspected. Each wears a donated bulletproof vest and carries a blackened nanki, a spear carved from tough chonta palm. One of them, Edgar Tí, is cordial as he inspects a boat that pulls up on the riverbank, registers the details on a clipboard, questions the driver and passengers, and checks for mining supplies such as plastic tubing, motor pumps or jerrycans of diesel. Miners caught for the first time get off with a warning, but the Charip mete out Indigenous justice to reoffenders. They lash them with an ishanga, a type of Amazon nettle, or tie them for five minutes to a tangarana tree. This tree has a symbiotic relationship with aggressive fire ants, which attack any perceived threat to their home. Santiago Tí says the nettles and ant bites, despite being painful, are used in traditional medicine to treat aches and pains, including arthritis. But chastised miners do not appreciate the punishment and several of the young men say they have received threats on instant messaging apps. Older leaders, such as Alfonso Awananch Flores, the nation's director of environment and territorial control, have been threatened, too. He says he avoids travelling to the larger towns since he was briefly abducted and interrogated. 'Without territory, we are not Wampis people,' says Flores, 45. That is why, he argues, they have strict management of their territorial autonomy and 'cannot allow an activity that destroys our land, pollutes our river and poisons our fish'. 'We don't need the state's permission to declare our self-autonomy; we have been here for 7,000 years,' he says. 'We don't need their recognition either. We have the right to become a territorial government.' But they do need the armed forces to crack down on the dredgers, Flores admits, as the division between those opposed to mining and those who favour the illegal activity has split communities. 'We don't want to create conflicts between families. That's why we want the state to enforce the law,' he says. Teófilo Kukush, the pamuk, or leader of the Wampis Nation, says miners are using children as 'human shields' on dredgers to prevent the police and navy destroying the craft. 'They pay the parents in communities to use their children,' says Kukush, who wears a red and yellow macaw feather crown signalling his status. He is calling on the government to declare a state of emergency in the Santiago River and expel the miners. 'They make us fight among ourselves, and the mining groups have hired assassins who threaten us,' he says. Downriver from the Charip checkpoint, some Wampis communities allow miners to work their riverbanks or creeks. The Guardian saw several dredgers and tracas, a raft-based mining platform with a directional tube that sucks up the silt containing gold grains from the river bottom, churning up the Amazon tributary into a coffee colour. In Fortaleza, villagers do not welcome uninvited guests. An initial meeting with the village's deputy leader, Joel Antich, is invaded by several drunk men. As an alarm sounds and the rest of the village gathers, the Guardian is accused of spying and asked to explain the motive of the visit. After an initially stormy reception, calm prevails. The villagers claim the lack of state assistance leaves them with no option but to depend on dividends from miners. Some earn a day rate of 100 soles (£21) working on the barges. 'We know it's illegal,' says Antich. 'But we do it out of necessity.' Juan Carlos Tuchia, a vocal advocate for miners, says the community has a fund that splits gold profits 50/50 with the miners. The income is being used to build a health clinic, build water-filtration plants and support needy families. 'We are not exploited by the miners,' he says. 'We have no choice but to work with them because the state has abandoned us.' He angrily accuses the Wampis Nation, without providing evidence, of filling its pockets with funds from the international community. The health post has an aluminium roof, but the concrete walls are still under construction. Villagers say that a viewing stand for their football pitch has been built nearby using the proceeds from gold dredging. The Charip territorial vigilance and Fortaleza's reliance on miners are both responses to the state's absence. Many villages lack electricity and clean drinking water, and crops such as cacao, peanut and cassava cannot compete with the income from a dredger that, they say, can process 100g a day, worth about $8,000. 'Indigenous organisations are fundamental in containing the expansion of illegal mining. But at the same time, this work is increasingly dangerous, as seen in the rise of assassinations of Amazonian Indigenous leaders,' says Hoetmer, calling for more support from the state and the international community. 'We want to live harmoniously within our territory without the greed of outsiders,' says Flores. 'We are rich in nature. The poor are those who cannot survive without money.'
Yahoo
08-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
The fight for the Amazon continues despite USAID freeze
Daniel Herrera CarbajalICT Amidst the Trump administration's decision to freeze funding for the U.S. Agency for International Development, those who work with Indigenous people in the Amazon say they will continue their efforts to protect the land and its tens of millions of dollars of funding suddenly frozen, Indigenous people's stewardship and land rights are in the limelight. Trump's order paused funding for nearly all programs and grants using foreign assistance in nine countries, the Amazon is home to more than 380 distinct Indigenous communities, all with unique cultural Miller is the advocacy director for Amazon Watch, a nonprofit organization that primarily partners with Amazonian Indigenous people in their own grassroots efforts to protect their ancestral told ICT that the freezing of USAID funds has had immediate impacts on Indigenous communities.'The efforts to essentially destroy U.S. aid as an entity have had immediate impacts on local communities in different ways,' Miller said. 'USAID was supporting different kinds of protection mechanisms for local activists, Indigenous leaders and human rights defenders that were receiving threats, from different actors, including transnational organized criminal groups. In Peru, for example, we've seen, there was an Indigenous justice initiative that was going to receive funding over the course of the next three years that was frozen.'USAID funds many grassroot organizations that help conserve the rainforest and help improve the livelihoods of Indigenous of those groups is 'Saude e Alegria' (Health and Joy), which works in the Brazilian Amazon. Project Coordinator Caetano Scanavino told the Associated Press that the funding freeze will not only affect the people of the Amazon, but of the world.'Cutting international cooperation, especially in relation to projects associated with the Amazon, is something that also affects American society," Scanavino said, 'because the Amazon generates global benefits."The Amazon is paramount to helping stabilize the climate, with around 150-200 billion tons of carbon being stored in the rainforest, according to the World Wildlife said halting foreign aid that is essential to protecting the rainforest will open the door to those who hope to use the Amazon for illegal activities or to extract lucrative natural resources from it.'Unfortunately I think this is going to open the space for other actors. That's going to kind of be an additional wind in the sails, as it were, of transnational organized groups of drug traffickers. of other organizations that are major threats to Amazon,' he said. 'Additionally, we can anticipate that the Trump administration is going to be backing multinational companies, extractive industries, oil companies, mining companies, to, you know, crack open those markets into and continue to expand further into the Amazon rainforest.'Extractive industries like illegal gold mining and logging have profound effects on the Amazon.'You only have to look at some satellite data in the Amazon region, especially in Brazil, and you'll see really wide swaths of deforestation from agribusiness and colonization that often follows development roads for agribusiness or mining or logging,' said Daniel Lavelle, director of the U.S. office for Survival International, a nonprofit organization that works to advocate for Indigenous people's rights and land rights.'And then amidst all this deforestation, you'll see these intact primary forest areas that often have somewhat odd shapes, kind of, trapezoidal polygons there,' he told ICT. The fight for the conservation of the Amazon rainforest has been going on for thousands of years. And the key to it? Indigenous people.'We know that over thousands of years, if not longer, that Indigenous peoples have shaped and, and stewarded these environments,' Lavelle said. 'What we've seen is more and more scientific evidence and anecdotal evidence as well, that Indigenous peoples in the Amazon are really the best defenders and stewards of the rainforest. There's plenty of data now that shows lower deforestation rates in Indigenous territories than you do even in the kind of traditional conservation areas.'Without Indigenous peoples, there's really not going to be an Amazon.'Indigenous people see the fight for the Amazon as lifelong and one that will continue, even without USAID funding.'Even when it gets dire, resistance is always continuing, to go forward. and really, because a lot of people have no choice but to resist and protect their lands because it's their lives and livelihoods that are on the line,' Lavelle said. 'So, I think in any challenging policy moment, it is a moment to double down on work on the ground.' Our stories are worth telling. Our stories are worth sharing. Our stories are worth your support. Contribute today to help ICT carry out its critical mission. Sign up for ICT's free newsletter.
