Insight and inspiration in turbulent times.
Rights of Nature is a movement that has been fortifying itself around the world as an antithesis to the dominant paradigm of limitless growth and extractivism. Firmly grounded in holistic Indigenous worldviews, this ecocentric paradigm could be a global game changer if a coordinated and adaptable effort — based on shared knowledge systems and accountability — is established.
Protecting and restoring Indigenous Peoples’ lands is the fastest and most readily available way to sequester carbon and mitigate the impacts of climate change, a result of the optimally efficient relationships between fungi, plants, animals, and people in a given bioregion, which Indigenous cultures have coded into their knowledge systems over millennia of human-environmental interactions.
This century’s pandemic, COVID-19, is history repeating itself and part of a process that has never ended. If mentioning colonialism as an unfinished process bothers those who claim all the technological advances of our space-time, for indigenous peoples it is a concrete reality.
So I think that this is a reminder that we really are children of the planet. That is what I would say: So that everyone works together truly with heart, and with faith, we can make a change.
This movement based on the intricate relationship between humanity and nature, forged through friendships with rural farmers and artisans, has tangibly changed cotton agriculture and khadi organizations throughout the country.
The awareness of life is based on language, a huge puzzle of meanings that are entangled, and that form a lens through which we perceive the past, the present, the future and the invisible. Here, at the heart of the Amazon Rainforest, along the Xingu River and its main tributary, the Iriri, traces of a missing population are found.
A cohort of actors including philanthrocapitalists, aid agencies, governments, academic institutions, and embassies are all working to make this narrative a reality. They talk about transforming African agriculture but what they are doing is creating a market for themselves cleverly couched in a nice sounding language.
The reason that Wells and his troupe have gathered here is to organize a full day of events called ‘Milpa Mexico: Tradicion, Ciencia y Futuro’ (Mexican Cornfield: Tradition, Science and Future). The purpose of it all is to promote the defence of traditional corn farming threatened by agriculture industrialization, a topic of great importance and urgency to the farmers in Oaxaca.
When we are able to quiet all the worries, the media, and public frenzy, we can see a bigger picture: This moment is an opportunity to come together in community, in care, and in preparation. Grave threats like climate change and pandemics are real—we know this as crisis scenarios become more frequent and more extreme.
Lyla June, musician, anthropologist and activist, introduces us to the Seven Generations New Deal and how applying this has the potential to create “what could possibly go right”.
Appeals to self-interest will not, of themselves, stem the Amazon’s hemorrhage. We must also invoke our love of life and the purpose of service that it points to.
The wilful jeopardising of indigenous peoples’ lives is particularly grave when you consider that the death of each elder represents the “burning of a library“.
