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“We don’t feel the state is on the Indigenous peoples’ side”
What Indigenous representatives are demanding
One of the notable events of last week’s COP30 in Belém was the protest by Indigenous peoples from across South America.
On November 12, representatives of Amazonian communities tried to enter the grounds of the major UN-organized climate summit but security guards refused to let them in. The confrontation escalated into a scuffle. “We’re not terrorists, we’re not fascists — we’re on the same side. But we don’t feel confident that the state is on the side of Indigenous peoples,” said a representative of the Arapiuns, one of Brazil’s 300 Indigenous groups. This year’s conference is being held in Belém, Brazil.
This text was prepared in collaboration with Baikal people.
Security and the military “protecting” the conference
Indigenous representatives are demanding a voice in decision-making, a halt to industrial development on their lands, the rejection of carbon markets, and an end to the subordination of climate policy to financial logic. At the moment, most Indigenous participants can’t even access the negotiation zone — they aren’t registered. Still, they continue to defend their positions outside the venue.
On Friday, November 14, activists managed to block entry to one of the conference zones several times. To prevent violence from security forces, supporters came outside and formed a human shield around the protesters, standing between them and security guards.
In response to the protests, security was tightened at every approach to the conference. By Saturday morning, COP30 participants had to walk past several rows of armed soldiers.
Heavy-handed security in response to protests at COP gatherings has become routine: as in previous years, guards and military personnel “protect” the conference from people who have every right to be involved in decision-making.
On Saturday morning, Belém hosted a global climate march. Through 95-degree heat, at least 70,000 people took to the streets — activists, local residents, Indigenous peoples from different countries, and civil society groups. They demanded stronger action against the climate crisis, limits on corporate influence, protection of Indigenous lands, and equal participation for Indigenous peoples in decision-making.
“This march is central to our demands as it brings together peoples, voices, and languages from all over the world. This huge cultural diversity shows our strength on the streets and to the world. We’re at the center of all discussions at COP30 here in Belém, defending the people who live in the Amazon and who pay for the climate consequences for which they are not responsible,” said Marciel Albuquerque, a march participant and member of the Munduruku people.

Indigenous peoples of South America are especially visible this year — as a rule, the host country of a COP helps draw attention to the challenges faced by local communities. These include the ongoing industrial expansion into Indigenous lands and the destruction of ecosystems. In fact, Indigenous peoples encounter similar problems almost everywhere. That’s why Indigenous communities from other regions are also speaking up these days — Arctic communities are no exception.
Five Demands of the Inuit Circumpolar Council
At the conference, the Inuit Circumpolar Council, a permanent participant in the Arctic Council, delivered a statement. The document stresses that climate change threatens the very existence of the Inuit because it directly affects the land, water, and ice that make up their environment. To address the impacts of climate change, the Council laid out five demands rooted in Indigenous peoples’ right to self-determination.
- The Inuit call for direct and full participation in governing climate finance so they can help set financial priorities. This requires expanding existing funding mechanisms and ensuring equal access to financial resources for all Indigenous peoples recognized by the UN as distinct sociocultural regions.
- The second demand is to include the Inuit in substantive discussions on all decisions that may affect their lives. This means strengthening their political agency, recognizing their voice, and involving institutions that represent Inuit interests in climate mitigation and adaptation efforts.
- According to the third demand, the Inuit’s position in the cryosphere must be acknowledged as unique and exceptional, and their participation must be grounded in the principles of human rights and Indigenous rights. The Council emphasizes that Inuit communities should not be viewed as a single bloc alongside other local groups, and that dividing countries into “developed” and “developing” leaves the Inuit out of the category of the most vulnerable.
- The fourth demand calls for solutions based on principles of justice and Indigenous knowledge. It underscores that climate action should be built around the knowledge and lived experience accumulated by Inuit communities. This requires engaging Inuit experts.
- The fifth demand concerns a just transition and the implementation of the Paris Agreement. The Council insists on continuing efforts to meet global temperature goals, but without shifting the costs of the energy transition onto Inuit communities.
From Russia to Belém
The Arctida project has written about the impact of the climate crisis on Indigenous life in the Russian Arctic. The work of Russian organizations that officially represent Indigenous peoples internationally can hardly be called systemic: RAIPON — the key umbrella group uniting Indigenous communities of the North and Siberia — is not taking part in COP30 and has not issued any statement comparable to the Inuit one.
Indigenous peoples in Russia, who lack independence, have long and unsuccessfully sought to have their views considered when plans for developing their lands are drawn up. In Russia, the mechanisms for consultation exist only on paper.
Indigenous territories — Sakha, Chukotka, Yamal, Khanty-Mansi, Taimyr — face the same problems as the protesters in Belém: industrial pressure packaged as “strategic projects.” Oil, gas, coal, niobium, and gold are extracted without the consent of local residents and without bringing them meaningful benefits.
With the start of the war, the pressure intensified: any protest against resource extraction on Indigenous lands is increasingly labeled “extremism.”
In 2023–2024, Bashkortostan became one of the centers of resistance to environmental projects that locals considered destructive. The largest example is the Baymak district, where massive protests erupted around the case of environmentalist Vladimir Kozlov, who criticized gold mining. Thousands of people joined demonstrations — an unusually large scale for contemporary Russia.
The authorities responded with force: riot police, batons, tear gas, dozens of detentions. Even a local environmental protest was instantly cast as a threat. A wave of administrative and criminal cases followed: participants were accused of “extremism,” and public discussion of the harms of gold mining became nearly impossible. Residents continued to report polluted water, destroyed pastures, and a lack of oversight at mining sites — but mechanisms for dialogue had disappeared.
In Tuva, pressure on anyone criticizing mining projects also increased. One of the sharpest conflicts involves coal pits in the Chaa-Khol, Barun-Khemchik, and Ulug-Khem districts, where heavy machinery is destroying pastures. Local herders tried to speak out about land degradation, worsening water quality, and dust from the mines, but any attempt to organize a meeting or protest was recorded as “unauthorized activity.”
Activists were summoned for questioning and warned about “undermining trust in development projects.” In several villages, clan communities complained about land seizures without consent and without adequate compensation. Formally, consultations take place; in reality, decisions are imposed from above.
In Buryatia, residents of the village of Oshurkovo opposed the development of an apatite deposit near their community. In the summer, residents hung black flags with “SOS” on fences along the federal highway to draw attention to the issue. By night, someone had taken the flags down, and police went door-to-door questioning residents. The next day, villagers rehung the flags — this time in white.
Later, they held a village assembly, which unanimously decided: the residents are against apatite mining. But now activists and organizers are facing pressure, with authorities bringing administrative cases for allegedly organizing an illegal mass gathering. The head of the republic claimed the protests were being “directed from abroad.”


