Loss and Damage at COP30: Indigenous Leaders Challenge Top-Down Finance Models

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Indigenous Rights

Indigenous activists continue to fight for a seat at the table in solving climate change, asking for self-determination and financial agency.

Activists demand loss and damage reparations outside the hall where the COP29 negotiators were concluding their negotiations. Credit: UN Climate Change/Kiara Worth

Activists demand loss and damage reparations outside the hall where the COP29 negotiators were concluding their negotiations. Credit: UN Climate Change/Kiara Worth

UNITED NATIONS, Sep 17 2025 (IPS) – As climate-induced disasters continue to devastate the Global South, nations are steadily mounting pressure at the United Nations for wealthier countries to deliver on long-promised climate reparations through the Loss and Damage Fund. For Indigenous peoples, whose territories are often the most ecologically intact yet most damaged by climate change, these negotiations define survival, sovereignty and recognition as rights-holders in global climate governance.

After the fund’s operationalization at the 29th Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (COP29) in Baku last fall, developing countries say that the pledges so far—approximately USD 741 million—fall drastically short of the trillions needed to recover from climate devastation.

This low number is acutely felt in Indigenous communities, whose local economies rely on thriving ecosystems.

“A lot of rich biodiversity, carbon sinks and the most preserved parts of the world are within indigenous territories,” said Paul Belisario, Global Coordinator for the Secretariat of the International Indigenous Peoples Movement for Self-Determination and Liberation (IPMSDL), in an interview with IPS. “Without recognizing Indigenous people’s right to take care of it, to govern it and to live in it so that their traditional knowledge will flourish, we cannot fully address the climate crisis.”

UN Secretary-General António Guterres echoed this sentiment in Baku, saying, “The creation of the Loss and Damage Fund is a victory for developing countries, for multilateralism and for justice.  But its initial capitalization of USD 700 million doesn’t come close to righting the wrong inflicted on the vulnerable.”

These “wrongs,” Indigenous leaders argue, must include the exclusion of traditional and tribal knowledge in decision-making. In light of pushback to make climate action a legal responsibility rather than a political agreement, many are hopeful that COP30 will yield a more successful negotiation for adequate compensation.

The call for action is led by coalition blocs including the Alliance of Small Island States (AOSIS) and G77, an alliance of developing countries with China as its primary political and financial supporter. Both alliances represent the countries most vulnerable to climate-related natural disasters. G77 was particularly vocal during COP29, where their rejection of the deal was backed by a number of climate and civil society organizations who criticized the negotiating text for giving developed countries too much leeway to shirk their climate finance obligations.

For Indigenous groups, this criticism stems from concerns that funding will not successfully reach their communities due to bureaucracy or geographical and political isolation.

Secretary-General António Guterres meets with André Aranha Corrêa do Lago, President-designate of COP 30, the 2025 UN Climate Change Conference, which will be held in Belém, Brazil. Credit: UN Photo

Secretary-General António Guterres meets with André Aranha Corrêa do Lago, President-designate of COP 30, the 2025 UN Climate Change Conference, which will be held in Belém, Brazil. Credit: UN Photo

Janene Yazzie, director of policy and advocacy at the NDN Collective, spoke about the importance of Indigenous involvement in funding distributions, saying, “What we’re advocating for is to ensure that these mechanisms… are accessible to Indigenous Peoples, uphold the rights of Indigenous Peoples, and can be utilized towards solutions and responses that are designed and prioritized by Indigenous Peoples.”

Last year, countries eventually settled on mobilizing USD 300 billion annually by 2035 to developing countries for climate finance—far below the USD 1 trillion experts say is the minimum for effective mitigation and adaptation. The financial commitment is voluntary, meaning that countries can withdraw without consequence and no protections exist to ensure the money is distributed with regard for Indigenous governance systems.

The Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) Indigenous Foundation noted that groups without formal land titles could be excluded entirely, despite their role in stewarding biodiverse landscapes.

However, a recent International Court of Justice (ICJ) report has created new legal pathways. The court placed stringent obligations on states to prevent significant climate harm and tackle climate change, stating that failure to do so triggers legal responsibility. Scientific evidence can link emissions to specific countries, allowing those affected by climate change to seek legal action, which could include getting money back, restoring land, improving infrastructure, or receiving compensation for financial losses.

Indigenous activists at COP29. Credit: UN Climate Change/ Kiara Worth

Indigenous activists at COP29. Credit: UN Climate Change/Kiara Worth

This legal opinion opens new pathways for seeking restitution—not only in money but also in land recovery, infrastructure for adaptation, and guarantees of political participation.

This legal shift comes at a crucial time. In April 2025, thousands of Indigenous Brazilians marched in the capital ahead of COP30 in Belém, demanding land rights and decision-making influence. Meanwhile, the National Organization of the Indigenous Peoples of the Colombian Amazon (OPIAC) also issued a statement about the summit for Deforestation of the Amazon. They outline an action plan to end deforestation, strengthen land rights and phase out oil and gas exploration.

After indigenous groups were denied a co-presidency for COP30, Conference President André Corrêa do Lago pledged to establish a “Circle of Indigenous Leadership” within the conference. Many leaders found the arrangement insufficient—the FSC Indigenous Foundation called instead for “co-governance models where Indigenous Peoples are not just consulted but are leading and shaping climate action.”

Indigenous people make their message clear during COP29. Credit: Photo- UN Climate Change/Lara Murillo

Indigenous people make their message clear during COP29. Credit: UN Climate Change/Lara Murillo

Other groups were more explicitly critical. The Indigenous Climate Action co-authored a statement at the end of COP29 saying, “There is nothing to celebrate here today… While we urgently need direct and equitable access to climate finance for adaptation, mitigation and loss and damage across all seven socio-cultural regions… we reject the financial colonization that comes from loans and any other financial mechanisms that perpetuate indebtedness of nations that have contributed the least to climate change yet bear the brunt of its tragedies.”

Belisario frames the funding question as a matter of justice rather than charity.

“This funding is not just corporate social responsibility or compensation,” he told IPS. “This is historical justice.”

However, without Indigenous influence in the distribution of money from the Loss and Damage Fund, it remains unclear how effective this aid will be in combating climate change based on Indigenous knowledge and science. Many activists advocate for more localized approaches to climate action.

Belisario acknowledges the limitations of international negotiations.

“It’s been a running joke that we will negotiate until COP100, and we might not have that long. What we would really like to get out of COP30 is to meet many communities to discuss the common problems and make them realize that this COP is just a part of how we would like to solve our climate crisis,” he said. “We really believe that more radical ways to enact accountability and responsibility will start with movements in people’s own countries, in their own localities.”

As the FSC Indigenous Foundation concluded, “Indigenous Peoples must lead the design, management, and oversight of financial mechanisms that affect their lands, lives, and futures. Climate justice will only be possible when Indigenous Peoples are recognized as rights-holders and partners in decision-making.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

 

How Mongolia Can Expedite It’s Just Transition Plans to Include Its Nomads

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Youth

Gereltuya Bayanmukh speaks about her motivations to become involved in climate activism. Credit: Leo Galduh/IPS

Gereltuya Bayanmukh speaks about her motivations to become involved in climate activism. Credit: Leo Galduh/IPS

ULAANBAATAR, Jul 9 2025 (IPS) – Youth activist Gereltuya Bayanmukh still reflects on the events in her formative years that inspired her to become a climate activist. When she was a child, she would visit her grandparents in a village 20 km to the south of the border between Russia and Mongolia.

She was happy to see each of the nomadic people in their traditional gers power up their settlements using solar power.

“I remember seeing my neighbors own a solar panel and a battery to accumulate power. They were turning on lights and watching TV using solar power. Nowadays, they even have fridges,” she says.

She thought the herders made a conscious choice about their lifestyles and understood the need of the hour in the face of the looming climate crisis. That is to say, switch to renewable energy and power a safer future.

“This was the reason I became a climate activist,” she says.

No matter how unwitting her notion about her community achieving self-sufficiency with renewable energy was, the findings about what entailed this system revealed something else.

“I later learned that the solar panels were partially subsidized by the government as a part of the nationwide government to equip 100,000 nomadic households with solar energy,” she says.

What she perceived turned out to be a nationwide renewable energy scheme by the Mongolian government for the nomadic herders.

The scheme, called the National 100,000 Solar Ger [Yurt] Electricity Program, introduced in 2000, provided herders with portable photovoltaic solar home systems that complement their traditional nomadic lifestyle.

At least 30 percent of Mongolia’s population comprises nomadic herders. Before 2000, when the scheme came into effect, herders had limited or no access to modern electricity. By 2005, the government managed to equip over 30,000 herder families through funds from several donor nations.

However, the full-scale electrification effort for herders was beginning to stagnate. The 2006 midterm custom audit performance report by the Standing Committee on Environment, Food and Agriculture of the Parliament carried sobering revelations.

The scheme in its initial phase was poorly managed: there was no control over the distribution process, with some units delivered to local areas landing in the hands of non-residents violating the contract, failure to deliver the targeted number of generators, misappropriation of the program funds, and inability to repay the loans within the contractual period.

However, in the third phase–2006-2012–the program was able to expand its implementation with the support of several international donors, including the World Bank.

“At first, I thought how great that we started out with the renewable energy transition, giving access to renewable energy at a lower price. And it was even in 1999. That was when I was just four years old. I believe we were on our way to building a future like this. Like we visualized here. The future of green nomadism. However, my optimism faded when I read the midterm audit report and discovered that the program had been (just as) poorly managed as the first part. It was only with the assistance of the international partners that the program finished well,” says Gereltuya.

Gereltuya is the co-founder and board director of her NGO, Green Dot Climate, which focuses on empowering youth as climate activists and raising awareness and practical skills for climate action.

One of the mottoes of her NGO is to change the youth’s and Mongolian people’s attitudes and practices around climate change issues as well as solutions.

In the past year, the NGO has been successful in reaching over half a million Mongolians, including nomads, helping them become more environmentally conscious and empowering the youth to be climate activists—makers and doers themselves.

“In the past year, we have reached over half a million Mongolians. Our Green Dot youth community has logged more than 100,000 individual climate actions, saving over 700,000 kg of CO₂, 25 liters of water, and 80,000 kilowatt-hours of energy. Next, we will aim for a million collective actions, a stronger community and a minimum of 50 collaborative climate projects in Mongolia,” Gereltuya said during her delegate speech at the One Young World Summit, a global event that brings in young leaders from around the world to discuss global issues, in 2023.

The state of Mongolia’s nomads in the current energy system

Mongolia as a country heavily relies on coal for energy production, which contributes to 90 percent of its energy production. Coming to just transition, the government aims for a 30 percent renewable energy share by 2030 of its installed capacity, as enshrined in the State Policy on Energy 2015-2030. Mongolia is also committed to reducing its greenhouse gas emissions by 22.7 percent by 2030 while the energy sector accounts for 44.78 percent of the total emissions as of 2020 according to Mongolia’s Second Biennial Update Report.

Gereltuya’s NGO, Green Dot Climate, has been mapping Mongolia’s energy systems for the past few years now. As of 2024, Mongolia’s electricity sector relies on CHP [combined heat and power] plants and imports from Russia and China to meet its electricity demands.

Only 7 percent of its total installed energy comes from renewable sources, with the Central Energy System accounting for over 80 percent of the total electricity demand. “We found that about 200,000 households remain unaccounted for in the centralized energy grid calculations. These are likely the same nomadic families or their later generations who likely adopted their first solar systems at least two decades ago,” she explains.

Gereltuya says that her organisation meticulously compared the recent household data cited by the Energy Regulatory Commission of Mongolia to that of the total  number of households as per the Mongolian Statistical Information Service to find the numbers that went missing

Mongolia’s backslide into fossil-fuel economy

Although Mongolia has promised to increase its renewable energy share to 30 percent by 2030, it is still far behind in the race to achieve its target.

In the 2020 Nationally Determined Contribution [NDC] submission to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change [UNFCCC], Mongolia set its mitigation target to “a 22.7% reduction in total national greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions by 2030,” which can increase to a 27.2 percent reduction if conditional mitigation measures such as the carbon capture and storage and waste-to-energy technology are implemented. Further, if “actions and measures to remove GHG emissions by forest are determined”, the total mitigation target would rise to 44.9 percent by 2030.

“Instead of focusing on decarbonizing its coal-based economy, Mongolia shifted to focus on carbon-sink and sequestration processes to reduce its emissions. This suggests that despite our many promises, policies and past efforts to mainstream renewables, we may still end up with business as usual. A case of bad governance, stagnation and vicious cycles,” she says.

Recommendations for Mongolia’s energy sector

Gereltuya’s NGO has been actively engaged in the survey ‘Earth Month 2025’ that is aimed at collecting specific recommendations from the youth voices in the country for the NDC 3.0 that the government is expected to submit in COP30. She shares a few recommendations that she believes can help improve the country’s energy systems.

On the demand side, households not connected to the grid should update and improve their solar home systems, especially now that the solutions are much cheaper and more efficient.

According to the 2024 World Bank ‘Mongolia Country Climate and Development Report,’ the average residential tariff for electricity in Mongolia was estimated to be 40 percent below cost recovery, and subsidies were worth 3.5 percent of GDP in 2022. The lack of cost recovery created hurdles in efforts to enhance energy efficiency and investment in renewable energy. In the context, those connected to the grid should pay more for their energy use to reflect the real cost of energy production and support renewable energy feed-in tariffs. There should be responsible voting of citizens demanding better policies and implementations and not trading in policies for short-term gains.

On the supply side, there is a need to stop new fossil fuel projects immediately: there are at least six such projects, including one international project under Mongolia’s current Energy Revival Policy, underway.

Secondly, Mongolia’s electricity infrastructure needs significant improvement. As the UNDP recently highlighted, Mongolia’s infrastructure is aging, inefficient and heavily subsidized.

Thirdly, fully utilize installed energy capacity, which is at only 30 percent, largely owing to the infrastructure inefficiency.

Fourth is to increase the overall renewable energy capacity five times to meet demand, which means 15 times the energy made in full demand. And phase out coal-based power, replacing it with fully renewable energy.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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The Cost of Conservation—How Tanzania Is Erasing the Maasai Identity

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Opinion

The removal of tens of thousands of Maasai from Ngorongoro to Msomera is part of a disturbing global trend known as “fortress conservation,” where Indigenous people are cast as threats to biodiversity rather than its protectors.

Ngorongoro residents register to "voluntarily" relocate to Msomera village in Tanzania's northern Tanga region. Credit: Kizito Makoye

Ngorongoro residents register to “voluntarily” relocate to Msomera village in Tanzania’s northern Tanga region. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

DAR ES SALAAM , Jun 19 2025 (IPS) – On the vast plains of Tanzania’s Ngorongoro Conservation Area (NCA), the sight of young Maasai men in bright shawls, wielding sticks as they herd cattle, has long symbolized peaceful coexistence with nature. These herders, moving in harmony with zebras and wildebeests, are inseparable from the landscape. But today, that very identity—nurtured for generations—is under siege.

What is happening in Ngorongoro, a UNESCO World Heritage Site renowned for its ecological and cultural value, is nothing short of a systematic purge of a people who have lived in harmony with nature for centuries.

Since 2022, the Tanzanian government has pushed to relocate tens of thousands of Maasai from Ngorongoro to Msomera, a remote, arid village some 600 kilometers away. Though officials label this as a “voluntary relocation” to protect fragile ecosystems, the reality is far more troubling. This is not conservation—it is dispossession.

As someone who has spent years reporting on Indigenous communities across East Africa, I know that the Maasai are not intruders—they are stewards. Their bomas (thorn-fenced homesteads), rituals, and grazing practices form a sustainable way of life attuned to the rhythms of nature. What’s happening now is an assault not just on their homes, but on their identity.

I’ve watched with growing anguish as this distinctive ethnic group is being driven to the margins—not by war or famine, but by state policies cloaked in the language of “development” and “protection.”

Ask anyone who has visited Ngorongoro: humans and wildlife coexist here in a delicate, thriving balance. The region supports more than 25,000 large animals—including lions, elephants, and the critically endangered black rhinoceros.

Ngorongoro also houses archaeological treasures like Olduvai Gorge, dubbed the “Cradle of Humankind.” It is a place where conservation, archaeology, tourism, and Indigenous rights once coexisted through a multiple land-use model. That balance is now collapsing.

The government’s plan to relocate over 100,000 Maasai is riddled with failures. A recent fact-finding mission revealed the dark side of this relocation effort. Families were lured with promises of fertile, uninhabited land and better services. What awaited them instead was dry land with no pastures, contested plots already claimed by locals, and salty, insufficient water.

Cattle—the backbone of Maasai livelihood—have died in large numbers. Health clinics barely function. Schools are overcrowded. Families are squeezed into identical three-room concrete houses, stripped of the communal structure that defines Maasai society.

Community consultation was shallow or entirely absent. Traditional leaders were sidelined. Compensation procedures lacked transparency. Ultimately, people were presented with a false choice: remain in Ngorongoro and face a withdrawal of services, or leave and risk cultural extinction.

This is part of a disturbing global trend known as “fortress conservation,” where Indigenous people are cast as threats to biodiversity rather than its protectors. But for whose benefit? Tourism revenue? International praise?

In my years of reporting, I’ve met Maasai elders who speak with reverence about their sacred lands. These pastures are not mere grazing grounds—they are the lifeblood of ceremonies, rites of passage, and spiritual rituals. To strip the Maasai of their land is to erase their very essence.

I fear the disappearance—even death—of the Maasai culture. Msomera cannot sustain their way of life. There is no room for their bomas, no pastures for cattle, and no sacred spaces for rituals. The village is too arid, its soils unable to support pastoralism. Many cows have already perished.

I’ve learned from credible sources that social services in Ngorongoro were deliberately withdrawn to coerce the Maasai into relocating. Schools, clinics, and even water services were dismantled. Development funds meant for Ngorongoro were diverted elsewhere. Flying Medical Services, once a lifeline in this remote region, was abruptly halted. Building permits for toilets and classrooms were revoked. This is not conservation. It is institutionalized punishment.

The government’s claim that overpopulation threatens the conservation area collapses under scrutiny. While Maasai homes are being dismantled, tourist lodges are multiplying. Roads to investor compounds are paved and maintained. Roads to villages? Neglected. If ecological preservation is truly the goal, why accommodate investors while evicting Indigenous residents?

The people of Ngorongoro were denied participation in decisions that affect their lives. Their leaders were ignored. Their legal rights to consultation—enshrined in both Tanzanian and international law—were trampled.

The situation in Msomera paints a bleak picture. More than 48 families remain without housing. Those who have homes are packed into identical structures, regardless of family size. Health facilities are almost nonexistent. Schools are overwhelmed. Tensions are rising as original residents challenge the allocation of land.

Let’s be honest: this is not a voluntary relocation. It is a politically calculated operation—one that wears the mask of sustainable development while bulldozing human dignity.

As the world finally acknowledges the critical role of Indigenous knowledge in combating climate change, Tanzania appears to be turning its back on one of its most knowledgeable communities. The Maasai’s way of life—marked by mobility, traditional water harvesting, and sustainable grazing—is precisely what we need more of, not less.

As journalists, we must continue to expose these contradictions. We must challenge the narratives crafted by bureaucrats and investors. We must amplify the voices of the marginalized.

To policymakers, I say this: you cannot conserve nature by destroying its oldest custodians. You cannot build sustainability on the ruins of a culture. And you cannot earn credibility while ignoring the cries of your own citizens.

What is urgently needed is a moratorium on all evictions. Relocation must be paused. Compensation must be fair, participatory, and transparent. Above all, Indigenous land rights must be upheld—not overridden by state power.

True conservation is rooted in partnership, not punishment. In dialogue, not displacement.

As climate threats grow, the world is realizing what the Maasai have known for centuries: that living with nature, not against it, is the only path forward. Tanzania must not squander this wisdom.

There is still time to change course. Until then, the Maasai will resist—and I will continue to write. Because in the face of such injustice, silence is complicity.

Notes: Makoye is a Tanzanian journalist and environmental advocate with extensive experience covering Indigenous rights, conservation, and climate justice issues across East Africa.

This opinion piece is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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‘We Are Witnessing Ecocide in West Papua, One of the World’s Richest Biodiversity Centres’

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May 29 2025 (IPS) – CIVICUS discusses the devastating impact of palm oil extraction in West Papua with Tigor Hutapea, legal representative of Pusaka Bentala Rakyat, an organisation campaigning for Indigenous Papuan people’s rights to manage their customary lands and forests.

Tigor Hutapea

In West Papua, Indigenous communities are boycotting palm oil products, accusing major corporations of profiting from environmental devastation and human rights abuses. Beyond environmental damage, Indigenous leaders are fighting what they describe as an existential threat to their cultural survival. Large-scale deforestation has destroyed ancestral lands and livelihoods, with Indonesian authorities enabling this destruction by issuing permits on contested Indigenous territories. Local activists characterise this situation as ecocide and are building international coalitions to hold companies and government officials accountable.

What are the problems with palm oil?

In West Papua, one of the world’s richest biodiversity centres, oil palm plantation expansion is causing what we call ecocide. By 2019, the government had issued permits for plantations covering 1.57 million hectares of Indigenous forest land to 58 major companies, all without the free, prior and informed consent of affected communities.

The environmental damage is already devastating, despite only 15 per cent of the permitted area having been developed so far. Palm oil plantations have fundamentally altered water systems in regions such as Merauke, causing the Bian, Kumbe and Maro rivers to overflow during rainy seasons because plantations cannot absorb heavy rainfall. Indigenous communities have lost access to forests that provided food and medicine and sustained cultural practices, while monoculture crops have replaced biodiverse ecosystems, leading to the disappearance of endemic animal species.

How are authorities circumventing legal protections?

There’s unmistakable collusion between government officials and palm oil companies. In 2023, we supported the Awyu Indigenous people in a landmark legal case against a Malaysian-owned company. The court found the government had issued permits without community consent, directly violating West Papua’s special autonomy laws that require Indigenous approval for land use changes.

These actions contravene national regulations and international law, including the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which guarantees the right to free, prior and informed consent. Yet despite clear legal violations, authorities continue defending these projects by citing tax revenue and economic growth. They are clearly prioritising corporate profits over Indigenous rights and environmental protection.

The government’s response to opposition is particularly troubling. There is a systematic pattern of human rights violations against people defending their lands. When communities protest against developments, they face arbitrary arrests, police intimidation and violence. Police frequently disperse demonstrations by force, and community leaders are threatened with imprisonment or falsely accused of disrupting development. In some cases, they are labelled as separatists or anti-government to delegitimise their activism and justify repression.

What tactics are proving effective for civil society?

Indigenous communities are employing both traditional and modern resistance approaches. Many communities have performed customary rituals to symbolically reject plantations, imposing cultural sanctions that carry significant spiritual weight in their societies. Simultaneously, they’re engaging with legal systems to challenge permit violations.

Civil society organisations like ours support these efforts through environmental impact assessments, legal advocacy and public awareness campaigns. This multi-pronged approach has gained significant traction: in 2023, our Change.org petition gathered 258,178 signatures, while the #AllEyesOnPapua social media campaign went viral, demonstrating growing international concern.

Despite these successes, we face an uphill battle. The government continues pushing ahead with new agribusiness plans, including sugarcane and rice plantations covering over two million additional hectares of forest. This threatens further environmental destruction and Indigenous rights violations. Supporters of our movement are increasingly highlighting the global climate implications of continued deforestation in this critical carbon sink region.

What specific international actions would help protect West Papua?

Consumer power represents one of our strongest allies. International consumers can pressure their governments to enforce laws that prevent the import of products linked to human rights abuses and deforestation. They should also demand companies divest from harmful plantation projects that violate Indigenous rights.

At the diplomatic level, we need consistent international pressure on Indonesia to halt large-scale agribusiness expansion in West Papua and uphold Indigenous rights as defined in national and international laws. Foreign governments with trade relationships must make human rights and environmental protection central to their engagement with Indonesia, not peripheral concerns.
Without concerted international action, West Papua’s irreplaceable forests and the Indigenous communities who have sustainably managed them for generations face an existential threat. This isn’t just a local issue: the destruction of one of the world’s most biodiverse regions affects us all.

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Indonesia: ‘The transmigration plan threatens Papua’s autonomy and indigenous ways of life’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Budi Hernawan 03.Feb.2025
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New Forms of Power-Sharing are Needed to Uphold Rights of Indigenous Peoples

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Opinion

KATHMANDU, Nepal, May 7 2025 (IPS) – A UN groundbreaking report published in 1982 laid the legal ground for defining the inalienable rights of Indigenous Peoples.

The document, written by José Martínez Cobo, a United Nations Special Rapporteur, analyzed the complex discrimination patterns faced by Indigenous Peoples.

If the international community is serious about protecting and safeguarding their rights, then it is indispensable to go back to one of the central questions raised in that report: the identity of indigenous people has always been intrinsically interconnected to their lands.

This tenant, now a legal concept mainstreamed in the international human rights jurisprudence, is with few exceptions, unheeded.

Disregarding and violating the rights of Indigenous Peoples to their own lands had led to disenfranchisement, alienation and countless suffering.

The relationship of Indigenous Peoples with their lands with all the measures needed to be enforced to protect it, are the foundations of United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), adopted by the General Assembly on 13 September 2007.

Upholding the Declaration’s principles and ensuring its implementation remains one of the key challenges faced by Indigenous Peoples worldwide. It was also the theme of this year’s United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, (UNPFII) the most important UN sanctioned gathering of Indigenous Peoples.

In its 24th session, hosted at the UN HQ in New York from 21 April to 2 May 2025, discussions were focused on how power sharing should underpin any quests of implementing the UNDRIP.

Because, essentially and let’s not forget it, the UNDRIP, is about recognizing Indigenous Peoples’ power. Ensuring Indigenous Peoples’ rights to their lands is paramount if we really want to ensure an inclusive form of governance that respects them.

Discussions over more inclusive forms of governance for Indigenous Peoples should yield to venues for them to have a much stronger saying over their own affairs. After many years of advocacy and legal battles, there have been some victories.

New Zealand, before the rise to power of its current conservative government, and Canada made major strides to respect and uphold the sovereign rights of their Indigenous Peoples.

There have also been strides also on other fronts, more locally.

A research presented at last year’s session of the Forum, showed some encouraging practices. For example, the Sami Parliament in Norway, the concept of Indigenous Autonomies in Mexico City and some traditions from the Tharu and Newar Peoples of Nepal, do offer some models of self-governance.

But, overall, the picture is grim.

Despite the legal framework that has been established and despite many declarations, still, the right to self-determination of Indigenous Peoples, paramount to their quest towards autonomous decision making, is contested and fought back.

And the only way to ensure its realization is when states will accept that in case of governance, whenever the rights of Indigenous Peoples are implied, it should be shared.

To be clear, this process should not be seen as a devolution of power. Rather it should be understood as a legitimate reclamation of power. The just concluded UNPFII tried to underscore this concept.

One of the conclusions of this year’s session underscored that “there has been growing recognition of the need for formal UN mechanisms that ensure Indigenous Peoples’ meaningful participation in global governance”.

The Secretary General of the United Nations, Antonio Guterres, acknowledged, in his opening remarks at the Forum, the violations and abuses faced by Indigenous Peoples.

“The difficulties facing Indigenous Peoples around the world are an affront to dignity and justice. And a source of deep sorrow for me personally”.

The daunting challenges posed by climate warming and the imperative to transition to a net zero economy are going to further challenge the compliance of the UNDRIP.

At the 24th Session, a central focus was the role of Indigenous Peoples in the context of the extraction of critical minerals that are indispensable to ensure a just transition.

On this aspect, a major study, submitted by Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim and Hannah McGlad, two members of the Forum, highlighted that there is no quest for critical minerals nor any just transition unless Indigenous Peoples are put at the front of this epochal shift.

One of the key questions is to think how governments, already pressed by geopolitical imperatives and in many cases already not compliant with the UNDRIP, can really involve, engage and consult with Indigenous Peoples.

The principle of Free, Prior, Informed Consent (FPIC) a foundational pillar of the UNDRIP, is normally only paid lip service to. But without respecting the FPIC, there won’t be a “Just Transition”.

In this regard, the worst performers in upholding this right are often multilateral and bilateral banks. Some difficult questions must be solved.

What could be done to ensure that Indigenous Peoples are at the center of the decision making whenever their lives and lands are concerned?

How to shift from a legal landscape in which the few positive exceptions become the norm? How can Indigenous Peoples better channel their grievances and come forward with their own solutions?

The UNPFII remains the only major platform that Indigenous Peoples can leverage. Yet, no matter its relevance, we are still dealing with a tool driven by symbolism that holds no binding powers.

Certainly, we cannot forget the existence of the Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and the Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous Peoples.

If the former can offer valuable insights, the latter, as all the special procedures within the United Nations Human Rights Council, lacks teeth and enforceable powers.

One of the major requests at UNPFII, since several years, has been the appointment of a Special Representative or Advisor on Indigenous Issues to the Secretary General. Yet, even if this demand were to be fulfilled, such a new role would not lead to any substantial impact.

Even within the UNFCCC process, Indigenous issues do struggle to get attention. The recently approved Baku Work Plan could be seen just as unambitious document and the existing

The UNFCCC Local Communities and Indigenous Peoples Platform (LCIPP) is not only designed to dilute the voice of Indigenous Peoples but it is made ineffective by purpose.

More promising it is the upcoming debate to create an Indigenous Voice, the so called on Article 8(j), within the framework of the UN Convention on Biodiversity but the negotiations are going to be contentious.

The real crux is how to engage the many governments that, even now, do not recognize the unique identities of Indigenous Peoples. But here is still a lot that the United Nations system could do on its own.

This was a major point of discussion at UNPFII because UN agencies and programs must do a much better job at involving and engaging Indigenous Peoples beyond tokenism.

The probable restructuring process that the UN might be forced to undertake following the cuts in official aid by the new American Administration, should simplify its governance. But such redesign should lead to imagining new spaces that, at minimum, would enable Indigenous Peoples to have their voice heard.

The call for a “Second World Conference on Indigenous Peoples” to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of the UNDRIP in September 2027, offers an important opportunity for Indigenous Peoples.

But the advocacy work needed to hold such a historic event would only be justified if the focus in 2027 will be on measures to return the decision making to Indigenous Peoples. Essentially, any new World Conference on Indigenous Peoples should be centered on new forms of governance and power sharing.

These are the two key but inconvenient concepts that must be analyzed and discussed and ultimately internalized with the overarching goal of finally giving back Indigenous Peoples what is due.

Simone Galimberti writes about the SDGs, youth-centered policy-making and a stronger and better United Nations.

IPS UN Bureau

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Mexico Bans GM Corn Cultivation in Constitutional Reform: Action Follows Trade Ruling That Ignored Evidence of Genetic Contamination

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Biodiversity, Civil Society, Economy & Trade, Food and Agriculture, Food Systems, Headlines, Health, Indigenous Rights, Latin America & the Caribbean, TerraViva United Nations

Opinion

Credit: Michael Farrelly, AFSA

CAMBRIDGE, MA., Apr 30 2025 (IPS) – On March 17, Mexican President Claudia Scheinbaum signed into law a constitutional reform banning the cultivation of genetically modified (GM) corn. The action followed a December ruling by a trade tribunal, under the U.S.-Mexico-Canada (USMCA) trade agreement, in favor of a U.S. complaint that Mexico’s 2023 presidential decree, with broader restrictions on the consumption of GM corn, constituted an unfair trade practice by prohibiting the use of GM corn in tortillas.

The Mexican government publicly disagreed with the ruling, claiming that the three arbitrators had failed to consider the scientific evidence Mexico presented in the yearlong case. But the government chose to comply, rescinding the three specific parts of the decree deemed to limit future GM corn imports. Still, the government left intact the decree’s measures phasing out the use of the herbicide glyphosate, establishing a protocol for tracking GM corn imports into the country, and banning the cultivation of GM corn in the country.

The constitutional amendment enshrines that last measure in a more permanent manner. While GM corn has faced planting restrictions for more than a decade, the constitutional ban represents an important act of resistance and sovereignty, particularly in light of the flawed decision by the tribunal.

Trade panel fails to consider evidence

Corn is central to Mexico’s agriculture, cuisine, nutrition, and culture. Mexico is the center of origin for corn, where the crop was domesticated thousands of years ago. It remains at the core of the country’s farming, diet, and culture. As President Sheinbaum acknowledged in approving the constitutional ban on GM corn cultivation, “Sin maiz no hay pais” – without corn there is no country.

In defense of Mexico’s 2023 decree, the panel acknowledged that the government presented scientific evidence from qualified and reputable sources of “risks to human health arising from the direct consumption of GM corn grain in Mexico, and risks to native corn of transgenic contamination arising from the unintentional, unauthorized, and uncontrolled spread of GM corn in Mexico.” (That evidence is summarized in an extensive publication from Mexico’s national science agency.)

The trade tribunal dismissed concerns about such risks in its ruling, essentially giving itself a pass on reviewing the scientific evidence of human-health risks by arguing that Mexico had not conducted an approved risk assessment “based on relevant scientific principles,” a reference to prevailing international codes for such processes.

The panel also failed to evaluate the risks to native corn. Mexico presented strong evidence that GM corn has cross-pollinated native corn varieties, gene flow that threatens to undermine the genetic integrity of the country’s 64 “landraces” and more than 22,000 varieties adapted by farmers over millennia to different soils, altitudes, climates, foods, and customs.

The tribunal argued that no special protection from GM corn was needed because gene flow already takes place from non-GM hybrid varieties of corn, and GM contamination is no different from non-GM gene flow. “Mexico has not demonstrated how the threat to the traditions and livelihoods of indigenous and farming communities from GM corn is greater than the threat posed by non-native, non-GM corn,” the panel wrote. Cross-pollination from hybrid corn “could equally threaten the genetic integrity of native corn.”

Equating contamination from GM corn with that of hybrid corn is a serious misreading of the science and of Mexico’s culture. GMOs by definition – and by explicit definitions in the constitutional amendment – involve crossing species boundaries, introducing, for example, a gene from a bacterium into a corn plant to repel insects. In contrast, hybrid corn is produced by cross-breeding different corn varieties, the resulting offspring remaining pure corn, with no non-corn genes in its DNA.

Mexican farmers have a long history of developing some of their own cross-pollinated varieties, intentionally combining a native variety with a hybrid that has properties the farmer desires. Such cross-pollination has nothing in common with unwanted contamination from GM corn, imposed on farmers without their informed consent. They call it “genetic pollution.”

It can pose a long-term risk to native varieties. Transgenic traits do not always reveal themselves after contamination. That means farmers can unknowingly spread such contamination from their pollen year after year to other corn plants. Mexican researchers discovered such contamination in their 2013 survey of native corn varieties. Biotechnologist Antonio Serratos reported that some of the native varieties he found even within Mexico City had transgenic traits in their DNA.

“In Mexican fields, transgenic native maize is being created,” he told me at the time. ”If [GM] maize seeds are sold or exchanged, the contamination will grow exponentially. That is the point of no return.”

Seed-sharing under threat

The tribunal’s alternative recommendation for controlling unwanted gene flow suggested that “the informal seed exchange practices of indigenous and farming communities” was one of the “underlying issues” Mexico should address to prevent contamination instead of restricting imports.

Limiting seed-sharing is entirely at odds with the science of seed diversity and evolution, says researcher Erica Hagman, who helped prepare Mexico’s defense in the USMCA dispute. Mexico’s rich corn diversity is the direct result of millennia of adaptive practices by farmers in their fields. The tribunal’s suggestion that Mexico should limit such seed-sharing to prevent GM corn contamination runs counter to the practices of in situ conservation of agricultural biodiversity.

Mexico’s constitutional ban on GM corn cultivation ensures that such misguided reasoning will not guide public policy. The amendment was strengthened by proposals from civil society that extended the ban to new genetically engineered seeds by banning any crops “produced with techniques that overcome the natural barriers of reproduction or recombination, such as transgenics.” This limits some of the new generations of genetically engineered crops.

While the constitutional reform does not include some of the original language restricting GM corn consumption, no doubt in deference to the trade ruling, the final version shows a clear preference for non-GM crops, leaving the door open to tighter regulation.

Tania Monserrat Téllez from the Sin Maíz No Hay País coalition called the reform “a major step forward for the defense of native corn varieties, the health of the Mexican population, and the protection of Mexico’s biocultural heritage associated with corn.”

Timothy A. Wise is the author of Eating Tomorrow: Agribusiness, Family Farmers, and the Battle for the Future of Food (New Press 2019) and a researcher at Tufts University’s Global Development and Environment Institute.

IPS UN Bureau

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