“We have so many dreams of being able to do so many different things — of not just fighting to exist,” Vanda Witoto, a nurse and Indigenous activist, said in an interview with the United Nations Foundation.
Witoto hails from Parque das Tribos in Manaus, Brazil. This Indigenous region, while home to 35 Amazonian communities that have existed alongside this land for millennia and maintained a symbiotic relationship with the rainforest, has been historically neglected. Now, these people’s livelihoods depend on the preservation of an ecosystem that is being ravaged for its land and resources. As of today, more than 30% of the Amazon rainforest is in ruin. For many of us, especially those privileged enough to pursue our dreams in college, the threat of losing our homes to climate change feels remote — a crisis that we can watch from afar. Yet, for people like Witoto, whose education and aspirations are constantly overshadowed by the urgent need to fight for the survival of her community, this fight is not a choice but a daily struggle to protect the land that sustains us all. Witoto and those like her experience constant reminders that this planet is our home, and we should all be fighting to preserve it.
This year’s Conference of the Parties will convene in Brazil from Nov. 10–21, marking the debut of this crucial climate summit on Brazilian land. Yet, its symbolic importance transcends far beyond a typical political dialogue; it lies in the soil, air and water of the forest as the conference will unfold in Belém, the heart of the Amazon rainforest. This ancient and sacred biome is one of our planet’s final frontiers, standing at the precipice of the relentless destruction that is human-induced climate change. Undeniably, it will be a critical moment in the global fight against climate change — a summit in which Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is expected to discuss policies needed to limit warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius and his target of achieving zero deforestation in the Amazon by 2030, among other pressing matters. As politicians, representatives from private corporations and researchers from universities all gather in Belém to discuss solutions, they must also confront the uncomfortable fact that the people who are most affected by this climate crisis, who have remained stewards of the land, have continued to be disregarded in these very discussions.
This conference must not repeat the colonial history that has ravaged the Amazon for years. The war of exploitation that has been waged in this region, underpinned by colonial ambitions and modern corporate greed, has, as with any war, disproportionately affected the innocent. The flora, the fauna and the Indigenous communities of the land now find themselves at the front lines of its destruction. This year’s climate conference must center Indigenous voices because they are custodians of knowledge and wisdom that has been passed down through generations, holding the key to living sustainably in harmony with nature. Excluding them from the decision-making process would continue the colonial narrative that sought to erase their voices, their rights and their existence.
We must move beyond the irony of holding a climate conference in the heart of the rainforest without including the very people whose futures are most intimately tied to its survival. Indigenous communities cannot simply be passive subjects of environmental policy. If the purpose of hosting the conference within the Amazon is to amplify a message, let that message be conveyed by its inhabitants, not just by guests who arrive in private jets and expensive suits, detached from the very culture of the land they claim to care for.
Let this conference be a pivotal moment where we listen to voices like Witoto’s — those who have fought tirelessly to protect the Amazon — so that the future of our planet is shaped by those who have always known how to safeguard it.
