- Despite the regional Escazú Agreement coming into force in 2021 to ensure the protection of the environment and its defenders in Latin America, it is not being enacted and has still not been ratified by countries such as Peru, Brazil and Guatemala.
- Real action for environmental justice is rather coming from self-governed media and activism alliances forged between communities in different regions of Latin America, like the Black and Indigenous Liberation Movement (BILM), an Americas-wide network of grassroots groups working together to fight extractivism.
- “While we wait for states to act on environmental protection and to implement existing mechanisms like the Escazú Agreement and UNPFII goals, regional autonomous alliances like BILM are crucial for pushing this agenda forward and ensuring that strategies come from the grassroots,” a new op-ed argues.
- This post is a commentary, the views expressed are those of the authors, not necessarily Mongabay.
The Escazú Agreement was seen as a real breakthrough when it came into force in April 2021, and is the only binding treaty to have emerged from the Earth Summit held in Rio de Janeiro in 2012. Negotiated between nations in Latin America and the Caribbean, it was the first agreement in the world designed to protect environmental defenders and to promote public participation and access to information and justice in environmental matters. Such an initiative is much needed: Latin America and the Caribbean have seen intense environmental degradation in recent decades and those who defend its natural riches are at extreme risk, with the region considered the deadliest in the world for environmental defenders.
But the agreement has not lived up to its promises. Although it was initially signed by 25 nations, it was only ratified by 16 and among those who have still not ratified it are some of the most dangerous for environmental defenders, notably: Brazil, Peru and Guatemala.
Even supportive nations are failing to deliver. After ratifying the agreement in 2020, Ecuador restructured its Ministry of Environment, Water and Ecological Transition to include units dedicated to public participation and the protection of environmental defenders. However, calls from local groups in Napo, a province in the Ecuadorian rainforest, for the authorities to protect the rivers from mercury – a poisonous heavy metal miners use to extract gold – are falling on deaf ears.
Communities are stepping into this breach. “We are fighting mega-corporations who function on a transnational level, so why not create resistance strategies on a trans-territorial level?” Lucia Ixchiu, the Indigenous coordinator of the Americas-wide Black and Indigenous Liberation Movement (BILM) asked at the network’s second annual congress, held in the community of Serena in the Ecuadorian Amazon, which we attended last October.
Surrounded by blue morpho butterflies dancing at the confluence of the Piatura and increasingly polluted Jatunyaku rivers, activists, media creators, and leaders of Afro-descendent and Indigenous communities from across the continent gathered for a week of discussions on how to combat one of the most prominent threats of this moment: mining.
Community campaigning collectives spoke movingly about their struggles and their resistance activities. Napo Resiste described its work monitoring and denouncing illegal mining and Yuturi Warmi, the women-led Indigenous Guard, said that it is empowering locals to find alternatives to working for mining companies or illegally extracting gold.
In a new film by Eliana Lafone and Rebecca Wilson for Latin America Bureau, environmental defenders discuss their territorial work and the Americas-wide alliance for racial and climate justice:
We were among 100 international guests that Yuturi Warmi, set up by women from the Kichwa Indigenous people, hosted in their community during the BILM Congress. These women shared local customs with us, like drinking stimulating wayusa (Ilex guayusa) tea each morning and energizing the body with stinging nettles. It was clear through their popular handicrafts, signature call-and-response warrior chant (“Fuerza fuerza! Guardia Guardia!”) and their growing numbers, that they are succeeding in reviving pride in their ancestral customs, weaving ever tighter unity within the community, and generating income.
On the second day of the congress everyone piled onto rafts for a trip down the Jatunyaku River, and members of the Napo Resiste group pointed out where gold mining is destroying the riverbanks and even redirecting the river’s course. Through their photographs and drone footage, they have repeatedly informed police of illegal mining camps, leading to various raids in Napo. This puts an economic and emotional strain on locals who are not paid for this time-consuming and dangerous work.
Not only have communities not been consulted about mining concessions in their river basin, but according to local organizations, there is a lack of regulation, management and control by the government, with raids a rarity and mining companies often tipped off in advance. What’s more, much of the ‘artisanal’ mining in Napo and neighboring Orellana province seems to be run by organized crime groups. Local defenders therefore put their lives at risk to protect their territories, but they themselves are left unprotected by the state.
Stepping in to fill this gap, the autonomous BILM network – with no state backing – ensures that violence against environmental defenders is denounced and documented and that human and environmental rights are upheld. For example, media collective (and BILM alliance member) Mullu TV has been covering the story of the Amazonian girls at threat for campaigning against gas flares in their territory in Yasuní National Park. Highlighting their work and monitoring threats against them through multimedia content raises their international profile, helping to develop solidarity and vigilance.
In line with the Escazú Agreement, through BILM network communications, information is shared across territories and wide participation in environmental matters is encouraged. For example, BILM informs their international audience on social media about environmental racism in Haiti, the numbers of environmental activists killed on the continent, and key points from environmental reports like that of the Federal University of Santa Catarina, Brazil, warning of an impending tipping point in the Amazon by 2050.
BILM member Mídia Ninja in Brazil, whose work was indispensable during Bolsonaro’s reign of misinformation and climate destruction, is still struggling to counter climate denial mainly attributed to the ex-President’s supporters. The collective has been sharing reports and fact-checking initiatives to disprove conspiracy theories in the context of catastrophic climate-related flooding in the south of the country this month. Although the Brazilian government has created a campaign against fake news (Brasil Contra Fake), it is reliant on outlets like Mídia Ninja – which has 4.5 million followers on Instagram alone – sharing this information via the same social media channels where fake news circulates.
Independent media alliances have also been integral to ensuring defenders’ own words and demands are heard, without distortion by mainstream media, states or political parties. Having narrative control and a wide following proved to be particularly effective during the recent United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, where accounts of Indigenous peoples’ collective demands could be heard live by BILM’s and allied media’s hundreds of thousands of followers on social media, and the most important takeaways were shared widely following the event. International visibility for these demands puts added pressure on states to listen and act.
While the Ecuadorian government failed to include marginalized Indigenous groups living in Yasuní National Park in decision-making around extraction projects within their territories –ignoring legislation around community consultation in the development and implementation of environmental policies and projects – the BILM alliance has proven to be a key tool for supporting their campaigns. Mullu TV’s alliance with Waorani women during their demonstrations across the country were crucial to the historic Yasuní referendum win last year.
On a more practical level, through international alliances, community work can inspire others further afield, and information sharing can be facilitated between communities. For example, the Pacific coastal community of Santa Elena is adopting a new model for strengthening culture and tourism, inspired by Yuturi Warmi in the Amazon. Just as Yuturi Warmi rescues traditional weaving and pottery techniques to reinforce local unity and generate income, the community of Santa Elena has launched a restoration project with the ambition of encouraging pride and protection of local traditions and attracting eco-tourism to their territory as an alternative source of income to extraction.
The need for these alliances and networks is more important now than ever. Given Latin America boasts extraordinary ecological diversity, the region is exceptionally vulnerable to climate change and environmental degradation. Climate-related impacts here converge with and exacerbate existing social disparities and political instability. Natural resource extraction is becoming increasingly intertwined with violent organized crime, and this violence is targeting marginalized communities and perpetuating existing inequalities in the region.
As BILM members state on Instagram: ‘These networks allow us to spread information, share our experiences and create strategies to help us defend our collective rights. It not only strengthens solidarity between communities, but also helps us mobilize and construct joint responses and demands in the face of the threats and injustices we face.’
While we wait for states to act on environmental protection and to implement existing mechanisms like the Escazú Agreement and UNPFII goals, regional autonomous alliances like BILM are crucial for pushing this agenda forward and ensuring that strategies come from the grassroots. But without dedicated state protection, these actors’ lives and livelihoods are on the line.
Rebecca Wilson is a journalist and translator interested in culture and the environment who’s based in Colombia and whose work has been published by NACLA, The Times, LSE Blogs, Asymptote Journal, Ellipse Magazine, The Line of Best Fit and Sounds and Colours, among others. She is Managing Editor at Latin America Bureau.
Eliana Lafone is a documentary filmmaker and journalist based in Colombia focused on human rights and the environment who has produced features for national channels in the U.K. like BBC, Channel 4 and ITV, and a range of NGOs including WWF, Red Muqui Peru, Latin America Bureau, NACLA, and more.
Banner image: Rainforest in Panama. Photo by Rhett A. Butler for Mongabay.
See related coverage:
Citizen participation: a key achievement at the first COP to the Escazú Agreement
Ecuador’s first Indigenous guard led by Kichwa women: Interview with María José Andrade Cerda