Indigenous cultures the world over, separated by thousands of miles, share deeply intrinsic attachments to the land. Holistic ways of living, which are centred on an ethos of reciprocity with the natural world, are ubiquitous in these cultures; passed down, from one generation to the next, from elder to child, for centuries.

On the 13th of August, 2019, over a thousand indigenous women from across the Amazon took to the streets of the Brazilian capital in the "Marcha das Margaridas." This march was one of many, demonstrating overwhelming solidarity for the widespread indigenous movement opposing the climate-denying Brazilian president, Jair Bolsonaro. The Amazon rainforest is burning, with mass deforestation accelerating to rates not seen for over a decade, directly as a result of Bolsorano’s weakening of environmental laws. Protesting side by side, women from over 110 different indigenous tribes marched together, in full ceremonial dress, their banners crying, “Our Territory: our body, our spirit”.

Indigenous cultures the world over, separated by thousands of miles, share deeply intrinsic attachments to the land. Holistic ways of living, which are centred on an ethos of reciprocity with the natural world, are ubiquitous in these cultures; passed down, from one generation to the next, from elder to child, for centuries. As well as a harmonious relationship to the Earth, indigenous communities have something else in common: land dispossession. To these communities, deforestation, climate change and mass species loss are spiritual and social issues as much as they are environmental. In recent years, indigenous protesting has seen surprising success and garnered widespread international support.

In 2018, the Ecuadorian government announced intentions to auction huge swathes of indigenous land in the Amazon for oil concessions, threatening seven different indigenous national territories in an area of over 7 million acres of primary rainforest. Nemonte Nenquimo, co-founder of the indigenous-led non-profit organisation Alianza Ceibo and the first female president of the Waorani organisation of Pastaza province, spearheaded activism on the ground. To maintain financial independence and stave off the temptation of oil handouts, the alliance supported a woman-led organic cacao and chocolate production business, as well as organising initiatives to harvest rainwater and install solar panels. Nenquimo led a media campaign petitioning the government and took over courtrooms in protest to the tune of tribal song. Ceibo united the indigenous tribes to stand up together and protect the forest. In 2019, the courts ruled to protect the Waorani indigenous territory from oil extraction, setting a monumental precedent and protecting over 500,000 acres of the Ecuadorian Amazon.

The auction was a direct violation of indigenous rights, and yet the indigenous communities of the area have already lost so much. Today, 80% of the Waorani population live in a territory one-tenth the size of their original ancestral lands. Development is a major threat to remote areas like the Amazon rainforest. As oil prospectors explore new areas, plantations pop up in their wake, clearing forest by fire and developing infrastructure to the detriment of the forest and its people. Of course, not all development is done by outsiders and not all indigenous people are opposed to development, but unsustainable development is a threat to everyone.

In her heartfelt plea to world leaders, Nenquimo describes how the word for outsider in WaoTededo, ‘Cowori’, has come to mean: “the white man that knows too little for the power that he wields, and the damage that he causes.” The economic model that the modern world runs on, one of exponential growth at all costs, is costing us the planet we all rely on. This is summed up perfectly by environmentalist Aldo Leopold, who noted that, “We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.” Leopold wrote those words in 1948, but even then he could see that “widespread spiritual poverty,” as Nenquimo calls it, was a driver of destruction.

Nenquimo continues the fight for indigenous cultural and territorial preservation, and she joined her fellow Margaridas in the Marcha the following year. She is now a recipient of the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize, and one of Time’s 100 most influential people in the world. However, environmental activism is, for the most part, a dangerous job. In a recent study, it was found that ‘environmental defenders’ face extremely high rates of criminalisation, physical violence and murder. Yet the murder rate for indigenous activists is more than double that of the non-indigenous.

In the 2019 Guardian article 'Record 212 land and environment activists killed last year,' Patrick Greenfield and Jonathan Watts covered the year’s shocking death toll. The article is accompanied by a chilling photograph of indigenous leader Célia Xakriabá of the Brazilian Xakriabá, adjourned in a headdress of vibrant feathers, defiantly holding a portrait of slain activist Paulo Paulino Guajajara. Every week since the signing of the Paris agreement in 2015, four defenders have been killed. The Marcha das Margaridas means ‘march of the daisies,’ and is named after Margarida Maria Alves, a union leader who was murdered for her struggle for the rights of rural workers in 1983. As the Marcha say, “they tried to silence Margarida, but she became a seed.”

Indigenous lands are some of the most biodiverse and ecologically healthy in the world. A map published in 2018 shows that a quarter of the planet is in indigenous hands, and over 80% of the planet’s flora and fauna can be found there. The critical role of indigenous people have in the health of the planet is discussed in a National Geographic article by Stephen Garnett and James Watson, stating that, “Indigenous peoples’ lands include more than 40% of existing protected areas and 37% of lands with high natural values.” This is a testament to the conscientious ways of life they follow, as well as their resilience in defending it. There are signs that the world is waking up to the power of indigenous communities and wisdom, with the U.N.’s IPCC arguing for the very first time, in 2019, that protecting indigenous lands is “an essential element in the fight to save the planet.”

In New Zealand, the Whanganui river, which is the lifeblood of the Whanganui iwi tribe, has now been granted legal rights as a person. This followed years of indigenous activism and proves that developed countries can respect the natural world and the indigenous spiritual attachment to it. India followed suit, giving similar rights to the Ganges and Yamui rivers of India. These rivers are sacred to more than 1 billion people. Perhaps if all natural entities held our spiritual attachment, then the protection of the natural world would simply be automatic. An article on the World Economic Forum discusses the idea of this kind of legal protection, arguing that the biggest hurdle would be in giving the natural world a voice—something that indigenous communities the world-over are already doing.

Scientists tell us that we are already in the midst of the sixth mass extinction event, one of human doing. Over a million species are on track to be wiped out, many within the next few decades. In Brazil, deforestation continues whilst the indigenous suffer disproportionately in the Covid-19 Pandemic. It is the natural world’s voice that we must hear now, and that voice is one and the same as the voice of these communities. Archaeological sites like The Tomb of the Eagles in the Orkney Isles show that the indigenous ancestors of Western societies once revered nature, too. Is it such a stretch to imagine that we might one day rediscover our connections, to find ways to live in harmony with the natural world once more? As Célia Xakriabá puts it: “The challenge is to reforest our hearts.”

Craig Dibb

A seafarer, passionate ornithologist and environmentalist, Craig aspires to reconnect people with nature through photography and writing. He draws inspiration from his explorations of the south coast of England by sea and watching Red Kites soaring above his childhood home in the North Wessex Downs. Craig is an Engineer in the Marine Renewable industry during the day, with plans to relocate to the Orkney Isles.

You can follow Craig’s adventures on his Instagram account @craigography.

The Role of Indigenous Communities in Environmental Protests

Craig Dibb