{
"$type": "site.standard.document",
"bskyPostRef": {
"cid": "bafyreiftxj2jtkbeexjoxsgr2wjkfwlecxvzecmzcw3slgbcirk5udli74",
"uri": "at://did:plc:vsctb4wfj3vrjth7evwvyzcv/app.bsky.feed.post/3mjledauv2rj2"
},
"coverImage": {
"$type": "blob",
"ref": {
"$link": "bafkreib37xnurz6ikgfa44fgz2nypuru3ecp5imq4djyal5p2iyqy7yjh4"
},
"mimeType": "image/jpg",
"size": 103013
},
"path": "/opiniao/colunas-e-blogs/o-mundo-que-queremos/post/2026/04/engaging-rather-than-developing-the-amazon-why-listening-to-indigenous-peoples-matters.ghtml",
"publishedAt": "2026-04-15T10:01:05.000Z",
"site": "https://umsoplaneta.globo.com",
"tags": [
"umsoplaneta"
],
"textContent": "\nSince the colonial invasion of our territory, the idea and practice of exploiting Indigenous lands, bodies, and spirits have been justified in the name of modern progress. This is part of an ongoing project aimed at erasing our identities in order to facilitate the appropriation of Indigenous territories. It is no coincidence that development models for the Amazon Rainforest are grounded in the notion of an “empty” region and imposed from the top down. Amazonian peoples and communities are disregarded and, alongside the environment as a whole, continue to face violations of their rights. It is important to emphasize that colonization, and the theft of land and memory, also violated bodies, and these practices persist to this day. There are well-known cases, such as the Yanomami people, who suffer from invasions by illegal miners, and the Kaiowá, who are attacked and killed as they attempt to reclaim their territories. There are many other cases that rarely reach the media or receive government attention, such as the Mura people of Itaparanã, in southern Amazonas, who have been fighting for more than two decades for the recognition of their land. These communities face persecution, restrictions on movement, and are prevented from accessing their traditional Brazil nut groves, now occupied by invaders. They endure the degradation of their territory caused by deforestation and fires. For more than 520 years, we have faced projects of death carried out in the name of a nation imposed upon us. We have endured colonial doctrines that labeled Indigenous peoples as “uncivilized” and even as legitimate targets for enslavement or death if they resisted. We have faced both extermination policies and assimilation policies designed to absorb Indigenous peoples into the national society. Since the Cabanagem uprising in the 19th century, invaders of our lands have believed they had defeated us, yet we remain in resistance. A recent example is the mobilization of Indigenous peoples and traditional communities in Pará in defense of the Tapajós, Madeira, and Tocantins rivers, which contributed to overturning Decree 12,600, aimed at privatizing these waterways. Although the decree was revoked, policies that threaten our existence persist. We are often accused of opposing development, but what we seek is engagement. For Indigenous peoples, everything is interconnected. Without standing forests, living rivers, and legally recognized territories, the entire world is at risk. In The Falling Sky (2010), Davi Kopenawa warned that without the forest, the sky itself will collapse upon us. In my book, Weaving Mura Memories and Those of Other Relatives (2022), I recount a narrative about a spiritual being known as Uruá Peara, a snail that lives at the bottom of a lake. It must not be harmed, or the very source of life would disappear. Both accounts reflect an ancient Indigenous understanding: all life is interconnected. In Ideas to Postpone the End of the World (2019), Ailton Krenak does not offer a ready-made solution but points to lessons that can be learned from Indigenous peoples about engagement rather than development. The more we “develop,” the more we disconnect from Mother Earth. The more we engage with her, the more we respect all forms of life and space. Under a development-centered view, a river becomes merely a route for transporting agribusiness commodities, a territory becomes a site for exploitation, and a forest becomes a stock of timber to be sold. In contrast, Indigenous knowledge preserves the memory of the origins of rivers, places, and peoples, all interconnected with trees and animals in a circular relationship. Within this development logic, cutting down trees to build telegraph lines, highways, and railways across Indigenous lands is seen as progress; damming rivers for hydroelectric plants and extracting minerals is labeled development. For Indigenous peoples, however, these actions represent death. What we call for are public policies that engage with our cultural, social, and political specificities. It is essential to understand the diverse realities and contexts of each Indigenous people: those living in demarcated territories under threat; those in the process of reclaiming their lands, often even more vulnerable to violence; and those living in urban, riverine, and extractive contexts. Many of us are in these situations because policies aimed at integrating Indigenous peoples into national society have severed us from our territories and our memory. Even when the state denies our existence, we continue to weave our threads of memory, to root ourselves, and to defend our lives and our sacred places. * Márcia Mura/Tanãmak is Coordinator of the Mura Collective of Porto Velho, active in the Madeira River region. She is part of the network of Mura Indigenous women across different contexts in Rondônia and Amazonas. She holds a PhD in Social History from the University of São Paulo (USP). Mais Lidas",
"title": "Engaging rather than developing the Amazon: why listening to Indigenous Peoples matters"
}