Why aren’t we listening to Indigenous people about the climate crisis?

Story by Grace Murray | TBIJ London 2025

Indigenous people are on the frontlines of the climate fight, battling floods, fires and droughts. But those who live in the world’s tropical forests often get scant protection from the threats they face. As world leaders descend on Belém, the ‘gateway to the Amazon’, for the Cop30 climate summit, we asked 100 Indigenous people: What is life really like for them today?

We put the same ten questions to Indigenous people – mostly from Brazil, Colombia, Indonesia, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Peru and Venezuela – to assess their quality of life and the threats to their livelihoods and lands. Alongside journalists from El País, Mídia Ninja, Tempo and La Región, we heard how governments are trampling on their rights and their wellbeing is suffering. They told us that they have solutions to the climate crisis, and that their connection to the forest is profound and spiritual – its fate is inseparable from their own.

What is the forest?

Climate journalists in Europe and North America often write about the forest as merely a resource or something that can be quantified; how much carbon it absorbs or biodiversity it contains, or how much of it has been destroyed, measured in football pitches. But what if the forest is your home or a part of you?

“For us, the forest is a family, it is a mother, a brother, a father,” said Alessandra Korap Munduruku, leader of the Munduruku people in Brazil and winner of the Goldman Environmental prize for grassroots activism.

Her sentiment is echoed over 17,000 km away in Indonesia by Simon Petrus Balagaize: “The forest is like a mother, father and child.” From the 100 people interviewed we heard that the forest is variously a supermarket, temple, pharmacy, cathedral, hardware store, spiritual home and the foundation of collective identity. Richard Bokatola from the DRC called it “first and foremost my cradle”. Almost a third of people interviewed said the forest is life. For several, it wasn’t possible to describe the ‘forest’ as something separate from themselves.

Basic needs

A deteriorating forest deeply impacts Indigenous life. The majority of people we spoke to said that deforestation had increased and their living standards had declined. They had less access to water and food, and worse health. The biggest decline reported was in the ability to hunt, fish and grow crops, with 68% saying this had got worse in the past ten years. Across the world, tropical forests are still being lost year by year.

Leo Morales from Venezuela said: “It’s getting worse because the forests are further away. The animals are further away. They’re moving further inland. The rivers have dried up, there are no more fish.”

Those we spoke to frequently called out their lack of access to healthcare facilities and medicines. Rocío Picaneray Chiqueno, from Bolivia, said there was no health centre near her community, which suffered from health problems including tuberculosis, HIV and high blood pressure.

All 11 people we spoke to in Venezuela said their health situation was worse than it had been ten years ago, with many saying the lack of medical supplies was the reason why. Two said they need to bring their own supplies when visiting a hospital. But changing Indigenous diets, caused in part by difficulties in growing and hunting food, was also brought up by many people. Some stressed that the forest itself gives medicine.

Threats to life

People from across the globe told us that they’re experiencing climate change firsthand. They spoke of floods, droughts, wildfires, changes to the seasons and extreme temperatures. More than half of our interviewees had seen the climate crisis changing their land and lives. “There are times when there are floods in the community and other times when droughts are also quite severe,” said Patricia Suárez Torres from Colombia.

The causes of climate change can be as damaging as its consequences. Illegal logging and the expansion of agribusiness, as well as drug trafficking, mining and pollution were all cited as serious threats by Indigenous people, from the Congo Basin to the Amazon. Almost 60% said such threats had worsened in the past ten years.

Almost one fifth of people – all from countries on the Amazon rainforest – mentioned mercury poisoning their rivers and fish. Mercury is often used in small-scale gold mining, but has devastating effects on human health, especially for women. People told us about birth defects and pregnancy losses. The Yanomami people in northern Brazil have been gravely affected over several decades, facing tens of thousands of invading miners and a spike in water contamination, diseases and deaths. “We are now in a phase of bringing mourning to an end, because so many children died,” Waihiri Hekurari Yanomami told TBIJ.

Some Indigenous women told us that gender played a key role in the threats against them. Land invaders engaged in sexual violence, one said, while another spoke of gender-based violence within the community. Teenage pregnancy came up, and another woman talked about facing “macho” leadership from Indigenous men. When Indigenous women lead their communities and the fight for recognition and demarcation of their lands, many receive death threats. Sara Omi from the Embera people in Panama wept as she described female leaders being arrested and chained up: “It hurts us deeply as women”.

Rights and protections

Indigenous people told us time and time again that they need specific laws and recognition of their territories to tackle the threats against them. Then, they said, those laws must be enforced. Finally, projects that affect Indigenous groups should require their consent.

However, more than 60% of the people we spoke to said their country was failing to uphold their rights. The reasons varied. Several felt that governments prioritised multinational companies over Indigenous people. Others pointed angrily to the number of frontline environmental defenders – many of whom are Indigenous – that are killed or disappeared around the world. There were 146 such deaths last year, according to Global Witness, a campaign group.

At least one person from every country was unhappy with their government, but the problem was most acute in Peru and Indonesia. In Peru, there was palpable anger from most people interviewed over the recent rollback of Indigenous rights and environmental laws. In Indonesia, people said that recognition of land rights in the constitution didn’t translate into protection on the ground, and one said that lands are often taken without their consent.

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, a 2022 Indigenous peoples’ law was seen as a step forward, but implementation had been patchy. It was a similar situation in Colombia, where Indigenous groups are recognised in the constitution, but their rights aren’t always enforced. Despite the promising actions of the government, Zully Nayibe Rivera – from the Nasa people – said there was still a long way to go in terms of recognising her territory.

Perspectives were mixed in Brazil, which is hosting the Cop30 climate conference in November. Several highlighted what they called “anti-Indigenous” forces in Brazil’s Congress. But many recognised the efforts of President Lula and the historic appointment of Sônia Guajajara as minister of Indigenous peoples – this gave them a sense of hope and empowerment.

“We have the solution”

It’s often said that Indigenous people are “the best guardians of the forest”, a phrase popularised by a 2021 UN report. Research certainly shows that deforestation rates are lower in areas they inhabit. Many of those we interviewed spoke powerfully about how they hold important knowledge and solutions to the climate crisis.

But the “guardians” phrase angered some. Wilfredo Tsamash Cabrera, in Peru, called it an insult. “Look, I’m not anyone’s pet,” he said. “I don't agree with that term.” And Jamner Manihuari, also in Peru, said “We are not anyone’s pawns to act as ‘guardians’. We are the owners of our territory.”

Some even laughed when asked if this idea translates into meaningful support. Onel Masardule from the Guna people in Panama said treating Indigenous people as guardians is no good without giving them the necessary tools.

So what does meaningful support look like? For many, it’s formally recognising their territorial rights so that they can continue to sustain the forest through traditional knowledge, thus regulating the climate. Several raised the need for direct funding to keep protecting and preserving forests.

Some raised the need to curb polluting and destructive industries and rein in overconsumption by non-Indigenous people. Beyond this, humanity must shift its collective mindset when it comes to development, Lizardo Cauper Pezo in Peru said, rethinking it as something that doesn’t exploit natural resources.

Indigenous people alone cannot solve the climate crisis. Responsibility to act, they told us, must lie with those most responsible for causing it. Nardy Velasco Vargas, from the Chiquitano people in Bolivia, said: “It seems that we, as indigenous peoples, are being left with the entire burden of saving the planet.”

However, many saw Cop30 being held on the edge of the Amazon as an opportunity. “This time it’s in the Amazon, in this sacred territory, in the forest that has enormous importance for the world, for Brazil and for Indigenous peoples,” said Maickson Pavulagem. “I believe that if Cop30 learns from the traditional peoples of the Amazon, we will take a very important step toward a climate solution.”