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The deep-sea mining industry got tired of waiting for international approval. Enter Trump.

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Friday, April 4, 2025

When Solomon Kahoʻohalahala arrived in Jamaica in mid-March to attend a meeting of the International Seabed Authority, he felt the weight of the moment on his shoulders.  The United Nations agency is in the midst of crafting regulations to govern a new industry for deep-sea mining that involves scraping mineral deposits from the ocean floor, often referred to as nodules. But after three years of advocating on behalf of Indigenous peoples, none of Kahoʻohalahala’s or his colleagues’ recommendations had been incorporated into the latest draft proposal. “It was disheartening and discouraging for us to be absolutely dismissed,” said Kahoʻohalahala, who is Native Hawaiian from the island of Lanaʻi in Hawaiʻi. “There was no option for us except to make our best case.”  On the first day of the two-week gathering, Kahoʻohalahala urged the nation-state representatives gathered at the International Seabed Authority headquarters to consider Indigenous peoples’ perspectives. And to his surprise, many representatives agreed with him. By the time he flew from the Caribbean back to the Pacific the following week, Kahoʻohalahala felt relieved and hopeful. The ISA had agreed to give him and other Indigenous advocates up until 2026 to come up with further recommendations. Moreover, the International Seabed Authority declined a request from the Pacific island country of Nauru in Micronesia to set up a process to evaluate their application to mine the high seas, and reiterated the authority’s previous commitment to finalizing the mining regulations before allowing seabed mining to proceed. “That was very, very uplifting,” Kahoʻohalahala said.  But no sooner had Kahoʻohalahala departed Jamaica than he’d heard the news: The Metals Company, a Canadian seabed mining company, announced it is working with the Trump administration to circumvent the international regulatory process and pursue mining in the high seas under a 1980 United States law.  Read Next Humans know very little about the deep sea. That may not stop us from mining it. Gautama Mehta Gerard Barron, CEO of The Metals Company, said that the company believes they have enough knowledge to manage environmental risks. They plan to submit applications to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to mine the deep seas within the next three months. “We’re encouraged by the growing recognition in Washington that nodules represent a strategic opportunity for America — and we’re moving forward with urgency,” he said. The move unleashed harsh criticism from more than 40 nation-states, from the United Kingdom to China. Leticia Carvalho, the secretary-general of the International Seabed Authority, said that international law of the sea that gives the agency authority over mining in the high seas “remains the only universally recognized legitimate framework.” In other words, the U.S. doesn’t have the right to permit seabed mining beyond its national boundaries.  “Any unilateral action would constitute a violation of international law and directly undermine the fundamental principles of multilateralism, the peaceful use of the oceans and the collective governance framework established under UNCLOS,” she said, referring to the United Nations Convention the Law of the Seas. The U.S. Congress approved the Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resources Act of 1980 as an interim measure to govern seabed mining on the high seas “until an international regime was in place,” according to an analysis last year by the Congressional Research Service. Two years later, the United Nations Convention the Law of the Seas was adopted, establishing the International Seabed Authority. But the U.S. has never signed onto UNCLOS and while no companies have commenced mining under the 1980 Act, it remains U.S. law. Barron at The Metals Company replied to Carvalho and other critics that the reality is  “commercial industry is not welcome at the ISA.”  Gerard Barron, CEO of The Metals Company, stands before his company’s research ship in San Diego in June 2021. Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images “The Authority is being influenced by a faction of States allied with environmental NGOs who see the deep-sea mining industry as their ‘last green trophy,’” he said, “with the explicit intent of killing commercial industry and leaving the aspirations and rights of developing states that took the initiative to sponsor private companies as roadkill.” Proponents of deep-sea mining like Barron emphasize that seabed mining would supply cobalt, manganese and other critical minerals to make batteries for electric vehicles and could accelerate the global transition from gas-powered, carbon dioxide-polluting cars to cleaner battery-powered vehicles. But many scientists and environmentalists have raised strong objections to the industry that would irrevocably strip large swaths of the ocean floor, killing rare sea creatures and removing irreplaceable nodules that took millions of years to form. The environmental opposition that Barron describes comes from an array of groups including Greenpeace, which granted Kahoʻohalahala its official observer status to enable him to participate.  The same players are expected to get involved in the U.S. permitting process, which will require public input and environmental reviews. During the Obama administration, the Center for Biological Diversity sued the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration for giving a subsidiary of Lockheed Martin exploratory permits for deep-sea mining within the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, a nodule-rich region south of Hawai’i. The first Trump administration reached a confidential settlement with the environmental nonprofit that required the federal government to conduct an environmental impact statement before any of the Lockheed licenses could proceed. Miyoko Sakashita, an attorney at the Center for Biological Diversity, said the settlement additionally requires NOAA to publish any proposed seabed mining licenses on regulations.gov and give the public the opportunity to weigh in.  Maureen O’Leary, a spokeswoman for NOAA, declined to make anyone at the agency available for an interview or address how recent staffing cuts might affect the permitting process, but confirmed mining applications will undergo a vetting process.  “The process ensures a thorough environmental impact review, interagency consultations and opportunity for public comment,” she said.  Read Next Digging for minerals in the Pacific’s graveyard: The $20 trillion fight over who controls the seabed Anita Hofschneider Kahoʻohalahala is still grappling with what this new path toward seabed mining will entail, but said he’s worried that it’ll enable mining in close proximity to his home of Hawaiʻi where the industry has been preemptively banned under state law.  The Metals Company’s shift in strategy reflects the success of Kahoʻohalahala and other Indigenous and environmental advocates at the ISA, but it also underscores the commitment by industry players to seek the most expedient path to commercialization. Already, The Metals Company has spent over half a billion dollars on research, and the New York Times reported the company is both low on cash and has a limited ability to borrow. The companyʻs CEO Barron said in his initial public statement that he believes the U.S. would give the company a “fair hearing.”  But opponents of deep-sea mining fear that the company will have outsized sway with the Trump administration, which is reportedly weighing an executive order to fast-track the seabed mining industry and has a longstanding pattern of fast-tracking pipelines and other extractive projects despite environmental concerns.  Thereʻs also the question of what it means for the U.S. to assert control over international waters in defiance of decades-old international law. “This attempt to bypass international law treads into murky waters,” Sakashita said. “Mining in the sea beyond national boundaries without authorization from the International Seabed Authority should be illegal. Even though the U.S. deep sea mining law purports to have licenses available, it cannot be used as a runaround international law that applies in the high seas.”  While it’s yet unclear what will happen next with NOAA’s deep-sea mining permitting process, Kahoʻohalahala hasn’t paused his advocacy since leaving Jamaica. He flew straight to French Polynesia where he helped urge the president to sign onto a letter opposing deep-sea mining. Now Kahoʻohalahala is preparing to fly to France in June for a U.N. oceans conference to continue to ensure his community’s concerns continue to be taken seriously.  “The timing of this meeting puts it at a really critical time for the ocean,” he said. “We cannot miss this opportunity.”  This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The deep-sea mining industry got tired of waiting for international approval. Enter Trump. on Apr 4, 2025.

Inside the little-understood fight between deep sea miners and Indigenous advocates for the ocean.

When Solomon Kahoʻohalahala arrived in Jamaica in mid-March to attend a meeting of the International Seabed Authority, he felt the weight of the moment on his shoulders. 

The United Nations agency is in the midst of crafting regulations to govern a new industry for deep-sea mining that involves scraping mineral deposits from the ocean floor, often referred to as nodules. But after three years of advocating on behalf of Indigenous peoples, none of Kahoʻohalahala’s or his colleagues’ recommendations had been incorporated into the latest draft proposal.

“It was disheartening and discouraging for us to be absolutely dismissed,” said Kahoʻohalahala, who is Native Hawaiian from the island of Lanaʻi in Hawaiʻi. “There was no option for us except to make our best case.” 

On the first day of the two-week gathering, Kahoʻohalahala urged the nation-state representatives gathered at the International Seabed Authority headquarters to consider Indigenous peoples’ perspectives. And to his surprise, many representatives agreed with him.

By the time he flew from the Caribbean back to the Pacific the following week, Kahoʻohalahala felt relieved and hopeful. The ISA had agreed to give him and other Indigenous advocates up until 2026 to come up with further recommendations. Moreover, the International Seabed Authority declined a request from the Pacific island country of Nauru in Micronesia to set up a process to evaluate their application to mine the high seas, and reiterated the authority’s previous commitment to finalizing the mining regulations before allowing seabed mining to proceed.

“That was very, very uplifting,” Kahoʻohalahala said. 

But no sooner had Kahoʻohalahala departed Jamaica than he’d heard the news: The Metals Company, a Canadian seabed mining company, announced it is working with the Trump administration to circumvent the international regulatory process and pursue mining in the high seas under a 1980 United States law. 

Gerard Barron, CEO of The Metals Company, said that the company believes they have enough knowledge to manage environmental risks. They plan to submit applications to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to mine the deep seas within the next three months.

“We’re encouraged by the growing recognition in Washington that nodules represent a strategic opportunity for America — and we’re moving forward with urgency,” he said.

The move unleashed harsh criticism from more than 40 nation-states, from the United Kingdom to China. Leticia Carvalho, the secretary-general of the International Seabed Authority, said that international law of the sea that gives the agency authority over mining in the high seas “remains the only universally recognized legitimate framework.” In other words, the U.S. doesn’t have the right to permit seabed mining beyond its national boundaries. 

“Any unilateral action would constitute a violation of international law and directly undermine the fundamental principles of multilateralism, the peaceful use of the oceans and the collective governance framework established under UNCLOS,” she said, referring to the United Nations Convention the Law of the Seas.

The U.S. Congress approved the Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resources Act of 1980 as an interim measure to govern seabed mining on the high seas “until an international regime was in place,” according to an analysis last year by the Congressional Research Service. Two years later, the United Nations Convention the Law of the Seas was adopted, establishing the International Seabed Authority. But the U.S. has never signed onto UNCLOS and while no companies have commenced mining under the 1980 Act, it remains U.S. law.

Barron at The Metals Company replied to Carvalho and other critics that the reality is  “commercial industry is not welcome at the ISA.” 

Gerard Barron, CEO of The Metals Company, stands before his company's research ship in San Diego in June 2021.
Gerard Barron, CEO of The Metals Company, stands before his company’s research ship in San Diego in June 2021. Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

“The Authority is being influenced by a faction of States allied with environmental NGOs who see the deep-sea mining industry as their ‘last green trophy,’” he said, “with the explicit intent of killing commercial industry and leaving the aspirations and rights of developing states that took the initiative to sponsor private companies as roadkill.”

Proponents of deep-sea mining like Barron emphasize that seabed mining would supply cobalt, manganese and other critical minerals to make batteries for electric vehicles and could accelerate the global transition from gas-powered, carbon dioxide-polluting cars to cleaner battery-powered vehicles.

But many scientists and environmentalists have raised strong objections to the industry that would irrevocably strip large swaths of the ocean floor, killing rare sea creatures and removing irreplaceable nodules that took millions of years to form. The environmental opposition that Barron describes comes from an array of groups including Greenpeace, which granted Kahoʻohalahala its official observer status to enable him to participate

The same players are expected to get involved in the U.S. permitting process, which will require public input and environmental reviews. During the Obama administration, the Center for Biological Diversity sued the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration for giving a subsidiary of Lockheed Martin exploratory permits for deep-sea mining within the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, a nodule-rich region south of Hawai’i. The first Trump administration reached a confidential settlement with the environmental nonprofit that required the federal government to conduct an environmental impact statement before any of the Lockheed licenses could proceed.

Miyoko Sakashita, an attorney at the Center for Biological Diversity, said the settlement additionally requires NOAA to publish any proposed seabed mining licenses on regulations.gov and give the public the opportunity to weigh in. 

Maureen O’Leary, a spokeswoman for NOAA, declined to make anyone at the agency available for an interview or address how recent staffing cuts might affect the permitting process, but confirmed mining applications will undergo a vetting process. 

“The process ensures a thorough environmental impact review, interagency consultations and opportunity for public comment,” she said. 

Kahoʻohalahala is still grappling with what this new path toward seabed mining will entail, but said he’s worried that it’ll enable mining in close proximity to his home of Hawaiʻi where the industry has been preemptively banned under state law. 

The Metals Company’s shift in strategy reflects the success of Kahoʻohalahala and other Indigenous and environmental advocates at the ISA, but it also underscores the commitment by industry players to seek the most expedient path to commercialization. Already, The Metals Company has spent over half a billion dollars on research, and the New York Times reported the company is both low on cash and has a limited ability to borrow. The companyʻs CEO Barron said in his initial public statement that he believes the U.S. would give the company a “fair hearing.” 

But opponents of deep-sea mining fear that the company will have outsized sway with the Trump administration, which is reportedly weighing an executive order to fast-track the seabed mining industry and has a longstanding pattern of fast-tracking pipelines and other extractive projects despite environmental concerns. 

Thereʻs also the question of what it means for the U.S. to assert control over international waters in defiance of decades-old international law.

“This attempt to bypass international law treads into murky waters,” Sakashita said. “Mining in the sea beyond national boundaries without authorization from the International Seabed Authority should be illegal. Even though the U.S. deep sea mining law purports to have licenses available, it cannot be used as a runaround international law that applies in the high seas.” 

While it’s yet unclear what will happen next with NOAA’s deep-sea mining permitting process, Kahoʻohalahala hasn’t paused his advocacy since leaving Jamaica. He flew straight to French Polynesia where he helped urge the president to sign onto a letter opposing deep-sea mining. Now Kahoʻohalahala is preparing to fly to France in June for a U.N. oceans conference to continue to ensure his community’s concerns continue to be taken seriously. 

“The timing of this meeting puts it at a really critical time for the ocean,” he said. “We cannot miss this opportunity.” 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The deep-sea mining industry got tired of waiting for international approval. Enter Trump. on Apr 4, 2025.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

‘We’re still in the dark’: a missing land defender and the deadly toll of land conflict on Indigenous people

Julia Chuñil is one of 146 land defenders who were killed or went missing last year, a third of them from Indigenous communitiesOne day last November, Julia Chuñil called for her dog, Cholito, and they set off into the woods around her home to search for lost livestock. The animals returned but Chuñil, who was 72 at the time, and Cholito did not.More than 100 people joined her family in a search lasting weeks in the steep, wet and densely overgrown terrain of Chile’s ancient Valdivian forest. After a month, they even kept an eye on vultures for any grim signs. But they found no trace of Chuñil. Continue reading...

One day last November, Julia Chuñil called for her dog, Cholito, and they set off into the woods around her home to search for lost livestock. The animals returned but Chuñil, who was 72 at the time, and Cholito did not.More than 100 people joined her family in a search lasting weeks in the steep, wet and densely overgrown terrain of Chile’s ancient Valdivian forest. After a month, they even kept an eye on vultures for any grim signs. But they found no trace of Chuñil.Chuñil is one of 146 land and environmental defenders who were killed or disappeared around the world last year, according to a report by the campaign group Global Witness. About a third of those, like Chuñil, were from Indigenous communities – a heavy toll for groups who collectively make up just 6% of the global population.Chuñil, a leader of Chile’s indigenous Mapuche, was living on disputed land. Ten years ago she had moved on to Reserva Cora, a 900-hectare (2,200-acre) portion of the ancient Valdivian forest 500 miles south of Santiago, which her people claimed as an ancestral territory.She spent years campaigning to secure land rights over the site for her community. But the site’s nominal owner, the descendant of settlers, refused to relinquish control. He wanted the site for logging – Chile is a major supplier of wood to the US – and he wanted rid of Chuñil. Before she vanished, Chuñil told supporters: “If anything happens to me, you already know who did it.”Global Witness started documenting cases of killings and disappearances of land and environmental defenders in 2012. Since then it has collated a total of 2,253 cases. For the past decade, the most dangerous place has been Latin America. In 2024 it accounted for 82% of cases, including 45 Indigenous people.“Land conflict is at the heart of violence against defenders, and Indigenous peoples are paying the highest price,” said Javier Garate, a senior policy adviser at Global Witness. “Communities with ancestral connections to land often form the frontline of resistance when their territories come under threat from exploitation and encroachment. But despite their critical role, they are frequently denied recognition and justice, and subjected to serious danger for defending their rightful lands.”Chuñil’s was the only case recorded in her country last year, although it fitted a pattern of the targeting of Mapuche activists in Chile. Colombia recorded 48 cases, making it the deadliest country overall for environmental defenders, followed by Guatemala with 20, the deadliest country per capita. Mexico had 19 cases, putting it in third place overall.Under-reporting remains an issue, particularly in Asia and Africa, which registered 16 and nine cases respectively, Global Witness said. Overall, last year the fewest cases of killings and disappearances of environmental defenders were registered for a decade.Laura Furones, who led the research for Global Witness, said: “I would also like to be able to tell you that this implies a decrease in violence and an improvement in the conditions for defenders, but unfortunately that’s not the case. Human rights defenders face realities of violence that go far beyond murder. What violence often does is evolve, become more sophisticated, change its face.”skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. If you do not have an account, we will create a guest account for you on theguardian.com to send you this newsletter. You can complete full registration at any time. For more information about how we use your data see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionChuñil’s family have continued to pursue justice but their advocacy has made them a target of threats and intimidation, too. In April, two animals from Chuñil’s home that they had planned to auction to fund legal costs were found killed, one shot and one poisoned. “It is, above all, a deliberate attempt to prevent us from fighting this case,” her son Pablo San Martín told Global Witness.The group’s report calls on governments to act to end the impunity of the killers of environmental defenders by addressing the lack of rights defenders have over land and territory, strengthening weak national legal systems, and ensuring defenders at risk are given adequate state protection.“All we are asking for is a full, fair investigation to take place,” San Martín said of his mother’s case. “It’s been almost a year since she disappeared and we’re still in the dark about what happened. We want those behind this to be identified and charged.”

Oregon Indigenous farm navigating uncertainty over federal grants

One federal grant awarded to the farm was recently restored but two others are still on hold.

A few miles south of Salem, the Elderberry Wisdom Farm uses generations of traditional knowledge to grow native plants, restore habitats and train Indigenous adults and other underrepresented students for careers in agriculture. The six-year-old farm has received much of its funding through state and federal grants — but a farm founded on principles of equity and sustainability is a target for cuts under the Trump administration. As she led U.S. Rep. Andrea Salinas, D-Oregon, on a tour of the farm Wednesday, founder Rose High Bear half-jokingly asked if she could still use the words “equity” and “climate,” both terms Trump and his team have disparaged and used as keywords to find disfavored programs and policies. One $750,000 grant, awarded to the farm and community partners to expand tree canopies, was temporarily frozen but restored as of last week, following a letter from Salinas. Two other federal grants meant for workforce development are still on hold. “We need to restore the planet, and this is one way to do it,” Salinas said. “I keep saying, let’s bring all solutions to the table. This is just one, but if I can write a letter and unfreeze funds, I’m going to do it.” High Bear, an Alaska Native of Deg Hitʼan and Inupiat descent, founded the farm in 2019 after retiring as executive director of Wisdom of the Elders, a Portland-based nonprofit dedicated to preserving and sharing Indigenous history. She said the work is spiritual, and that she trusts ancestors will help guide the farm’s workers to accomplish their task of restoring the earth and raising awareness of traditional ecological knowledge. “We have no doubt in our mind that what we’re doing is right,” High Bear said. “If a government doesn’t necessarily believe in it, that doesn’t mean they’re going to stop us from doing our work — no matter what, we’re going to accomplish it.”Right now, much of the work consists of developing a native tree nursery, with Willamette Valley ponderosa pines, as well as firs and other pines native to the region. About 1,000 of those trees, as well as companion shrubs and pollinator ground cover plants, will be planted in areas of Salem that lack tree canopies. The farm will work with local high school students, as well as its adult interns, on the project. Natural shade from tree canopies helps cool the air and reduce air pollution. Nearby trees also increase home values and help prevent stormwater runoff. The farm will also feature a garden planted with the “three sisters” — maize, beans and squash — growing together. Hopi corn will provide a natural trellis for the Cherokee Trail of Tears beans, which convert nitrogen in the air to soil nitrates. Leaves of the summer and winter squash that make up the lower level provide shade, suppress weeds and retain soil moisture. The farm doesn’t use pesticides. Instead, workers manually remove most pests — and are resigned to some others, including deer who wander through nibbling on plants. “This is our oldest grandmother here, Mother Earth, and we’re not going to put poison on her just to get rid of our new neighbors,” High Bear said. Dawn Lowe, an Indigenous traditional ecological knowledge instructor of Hawaiian, Apache, Cherokee, and Mohawk descent, told Salinas the farm could always use more grant money to expand its work. “There’s a lot that we want to be able to achieve in the crisis we’re living through,” Lowe said. Each day at the farm includes some classtime, with videos or reading, and a discussion about a different topic. On Wednesday, that topic was seeds — saving, germinating and choosing them. Then interns spend time working with plants, including transplanting native pines and planting an elderberry forest heading up the hill.For Joaquin Ocaña, interning at the Elderberry Wisdom Farm is part of connecting with his heritage. On his father’s side, Ocaña is descended from the Kaqchikel people, an Indigenous Maya group from the highlands of Guatemala. Trying to connect to that side of his identity over the past few years led Ocaña to farming and spirituality, but feeling that connection is still a work in progress, Ocaña said. “I’ve never actually been to the place where my people are from, so I think that part is kind of lacking for now,” he said. “I’m still very young and figuring it out, but there are some things that as an individual that you can pay attention to and feel. Those can be my family guiding me and helping me along the way.”Intern Amanda Puitiza, an Oregon State University graduate student completing her Ph.D. in animal sciences, said she learned more about ecology and traditional practices at the farm than she did through her classes or prior work. She grew up in New York, and on the East Coast she said there wasn’t as much discussion about traditional practices outside of specific communities. “I’m really happy to get another perspective on how we’re protecting the environment or the ecosystem, trying to make it healthier,” Puitiza said. “I think it makes me a better learner and teacher in general, just to have more perspectives.” C.J. Senn, an enrolled member of the Umatilla Tribe, pivoted from 13 years working as a pastry chef to finishing her double major in environmental studies and science at Portland State University. After graduation, she’ll join her tribe working on huckleberry genealogy. The most valuable thing Senn has learned through interning at the Elderberry Wisdom Farm, and that she hopes to continue working on, is how to relate to plants and animals. “It’s really just about being a part of it, rather than trying to manipulate it,” Senn said. -- Julia Shumway, Oregon Capital ChronicleThe Oregon Capital Chronicle, founded in 2021, is a nonprofit news organization that focuses on Oregon state government, politics and policy.

Indigenous river campaigner from Peru wins prestigious Goldman prize

Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari led a successful legal battle to protect the Marañon River in the Peruvian AmazonPrize recognises seven activists fighting corporate powerAn Indigenous campaigner and women’s leader from the Peruvian Amazon has been awarded the prestigious Goldman prize for environmental activists, after leading a successful legal campaign that led to the river where her people, the Kukama, live being granted legal personhood.Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari, 57, from the village of Shapajila on the Marañon River, led the Huaynakana Kamatahuara Kana (HKK) women’s association, supported by lawyers from Peru’s Legal Defence Institute, in a campaign to protect the river. After three years, judges in Loreto, Peru’s largest Amazon region, ruled in March 2024 that the Marañon had the right to be free-flowing and free of contamination, respecting an Indigenous worldview that regards a river as a living entity. Continue reading...

An Indigenous campaigner and women’s leader from the Peruvian Amazon has been awarded the prestigious Goldman prize for environmental activists, after leading a successful legal campaign that led to the river where her people, the Kukama, live being granted legal personhood.Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari, 57, from the village of Shapajila on the Marañon River, led the Huaynakana Kamatahuara Kana (HKK) women’s association, supported by lawyers from Peru’s Legal Defence Institute, in a campaign to protect the river. After three years, judges in Loreto, Peru’s largest Amazon region, ruled in March 2024 that the Marañon had the right to be free-flowing and free of contamination, respecting an Indigenous worldview that regards a river as a living entity.It was a landmark ruling in Peru. The court in Iquitos, Loreto’s capital city, found the Peruvian government had violated the river’s inherent rights, and ordered it to take immediate action to prevent future oil spills into the waterway. The court also ruled that the government must mandate the creation of a protection plan for the entire river basin and recognise the Kukama community as its stewards. The government appealed against the decision, but the court upheld the ruling in October 2024.“She is the ‘mother of rivers’, the Marañon is born in the Andes and flows downstream to become the Amazon River,” Canaquiri said. The Kukama believe the river is sacred and that their ancestors’ spirits reside in its bed. for four decades, however, the Kukama have endured scores of oil spills which destroy fish stocks, damage the ecosystem and contaminate the water with heavy metals.The village of Shapajila on the Marañon River. Photograph: Goldman Environmental PrizeThe Peruvian state oil company Petroperú began building the the Northern Peruvian pipeline in 1970s, and the region around the Marañon River has accounted for 40% of the county’s oil production since 2014 – with devastating effects. There have been more than 60 oil spills along the river since 1997, some of them catastrophic.“My grandparents taught me that there is a giant boa that lives in the river, Puragua, the ‘mother of the river’,”said Canaquiri. The spirit represents the health of the river and its personhood, according to the Kukama’s cosmovision.In practical terms, the Kukama depend on the river for transport, agriculture, water and fish, which is their main protein source. As a result of the the oil drilling, however, they have become highly vulnerable to water contamination.Local people have suffered from fevers, diarrhoea, skin rashes and miscarriages after oil spills, and elevated levels of lead, mercury, arsenic and cadmium were found in the blood of river community members in a 2021 study.Canaquiri, a mother of four with six grandchildren, remembers a blissful childhood with abundant fish and animals before the oil drilling began. “There was plenty of food. We shared everything, worked on each other’s farms and celebrated the festivals together,” she said.Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari out on the river with members of her community. Photograph: Goldman Environmental PrizeDespite the ruling, the river is not out of danger and Canaquiri and the HKK are asking the Peruvian government to implement the court’s ruling. The fight continues.skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionPeru’s congress passed an anti-NGO law last month, which the country’s president, Dina Boluarte, approved last week. The law prevents civil society organisations from taking legal action or even giving legal counsel in cases against the state over human rights abuses.Canaquiri says the law could cripple their legal battle. “It is worrying because it means lawyers cannot take our cases to enforce our fundamental rights,” she said.“It is not just for us, it is also for the country and the world. Who can live without breathing? If it wasn’t for the Amazon, the forest, the rivers, we wouldn’t have clean air to breathe. How would we get food to eat every day, our fruits, our vegetables, our animals, our fish?”She says she and the HKK are motivated by the future of their children and grandchildren,: “The government needs to understand that it should not kill nature but protect it. Otherwise, what hope will our children, the next generation, have?

Brazil's Indigenous Leader Raoni Says He Is Against Drilling for Oil in Amazon Region

By Lais MoraisBRASILIA (Reuters) -Brazil should not explore oil reserves in the Amazon region, because of the dangerous impact on local communities...

BRASILIA (Reuters) -Brazil should not explore oil reserves in the Amazon region, because of the dangerous impact on local communities, Indigenous leader Raoni Metuktire, of the Kayapo people, told Reuters during the country's largest Indigenous gathering last week.Raoni's comments at the gathering, called Acampamento Terra Livre, come as debate heats up around Brazil's state-run oil firm Petrobras' bid to drill for oil off the coast of the Amazonian state of Amapa, in the sensitive Foz do Amazonas basin."I'm against this oil project," said Raoni, days after he met with Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva. "I personally told President Lula that I am against it, I do not accept this oil in the Amazon."Though Lula has sought to be recognized as a champion of the world's tropical forests and Brazil's Indigenous peoples, he has also said that the country should be able to drill in the environmentally sensitive Foz do Amazonas basin. He has criticized the country's environmental agency Ibama for its delay in giving Petrobras a license to do so.Raoni, who has been an internationally recognized environmental campaigner for decades, was one of the few people invited by Lula to stand by him when he was sworn in for his third term as president in January 2023. In May 2023, Ibama denied Petrobras' request for an offshore drilling license for Foz do Amazonas, citing environmental concerns. It later also highlighted concerns over the effects the drilling could have on Amapa's Indigenous communities. The oil company appealed, but a final Ibama decision is pending.The Foz do Amazonas basin is in Brazil's Equatorial Margin, considered the country's most promising oil frontier, sharing geology with nearby Guyana, where Exxon Mobil is developing huge oil fields. (Reporting by Lais Morais in Brasilia, writing by Fabio Teixeira, editing by Manuela Andreoni and Aurora Ellis)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.

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