There is an urgent need for more Indigenous individuals to collaborate before the few individual leaders burn out Originally published on Global Voices Deforestation in the Maranhão state of Brazil. Deforestation and land theft remain a persistent threat to Indigenous communities, including those who live near the Amazon basin. Image from Wikimedia Commons ( CC BY 2.0) . This post is part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” This series offers insight into the lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples to build connections across regions, center Indigenous experiences, and share the stories of leaders, activists, community members, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here . There are 476 million Indigenous people in the world, about 6.2 percent of the global population. Though only 25 percent of the Earth’s landmass is left to be stewarded by these original inhabitants, they have long protected global biodiversity — often better than any official government programs and efforts . For hundreds of years, Indigenous groups have weathered colonization, violent settler occupation, oppression, and forced assimilation. Yet despite this dark past — which continues today in the 21st century — Indigenous people continue to fight for their fundamental rights and their own lands and resources. As I read through the pieces Global Voices’ authors contributed to the August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights ,” one common question stands out for me: Who gets to decide? We are past the question of whether Indigenous peoples deserve recognition, land, cultural, and political representation. The key is to ask who holds the power to grant or withhold, and who gets to decide on Indigenous identity, land, culture, safety, and profit. Not all Indigenous peoples can claim their Indigenous identities because the state sometimes denies this right. A genocide by the Ottoman Empire wiped out nearly 75 percent of the Assyrian people, and the Iraqi army led another genocide in 1933. Yet, not a single constitution of the region recognizes the Assyrians as an Indigenous people . It took 30 years for Taiwan’s Siraya people to be officially recognized as Indigenous, but Japan’s Ryūkyūan people have only seen denials by the state. The Ryūkyūan were once removed from their own lands by the U.S. military during World War II. Decades later, the U.S. military continues to hoard Okinawan land through its military bases and destroy natural resources through unchecked pollution. In Europe, “autochthonous,” perceived descendants of the original inhabitants, has become a discursive tool to promote nationalism and build hate against the “guests,” the immigrants. Ironically, depictions of Native American “heroes” in European popular culture have fuelled this. While recognition as an Indigenous people is a critical first step for any Indigenous community, it does not always translate to decision-making. When Indigenous leaders in Nueva Vizcaya, the Philippines, organized an anti-mining rally, they were arrested and charged, with over 30 criminal cases filed against them. Brazil’s case was even scarier — 258 Indigenous people were murdered in 2025 for defending their land rights, according to Cimi (the Missionary Indigenist Council). In Thailand, mining activities are polluting the Kok River. Hundreds of villagers, Indigenous leaders, monks, and civil and environmental rights activists carried out a “ peace walk ” to defend their Indigenous cultural identity and a vital source of drinking water, irrigation, fisheries, and transportation. Almost always, when the state goes against its Indigenous peoples, it is to extract the latter’s lands, waters, other natural resources, or community products. Lack of Indigenous recognition also translates to significant state control over lands and land-related decisions. China’s new cotton law mechanized cotton production, making the cotton supply chain state-traceable, state-inspectable, and state-governable through data. Concurrently, this policy coerced over seven million Uyghur, Tibetan, and other Indigenous farmers to use their own lands under significant government supervision. In northern Tanzania, the Indigenous Maasai lands are taken by the state in the name of environmental protection only to use them for tourism, hunting, and private investments. All of these stories raise the original question — who gets to decide. When Indigenous communities control decisions, they are able to protect and nurture their lands, resources, languages, and cultures. For example, 14 members of the Kam community in Nigeria created 307 audiovisual recordings in the Kam language , which has 8,000–11,000 speakers, after receiving training from a linguist, buffering against the threat of language endangerment. In India, Kshetrabasi Juanga , an Indigenous educator, goes from village to village, documenting the endangered Juang language . Far away in Russia, the Buryat fashion designer Oksana Alkhunsaeva has created an occupation for herself that both employs and supports her whole family, and keeps the Buryat textile heritage alive. The question of who gets to decide also shapes the impact of modernization on Indigenous communities. As Nepal’s Rana Tharu language is threatened due to the prioritization of English and Nepali, women often become the last line of defense, preventing the loss of local languages. Dambe, a martial art form of Nigeria’s Hausa tribe, sees the new safety measures, regulations, and modernization through organized tournaments as a welcome step. But YouTube contests that attract external participation and viewership are erasing the Hausa cultural heritage long associated with it. There is a strong case for the protection of Indigenous knowledge, and even state support, when its economic value flows into the community. Ghana’s traditional medicine sector serves 60 to 70 percent of the population, as the profit-driven Western medicine market fails to make medicines affordable. The cassava, millet, and sorghum market is expanding across Africa, as these Indigenous crops are a better alternative to imported wheat- economical and gluten-free- opening potential for leading an international market. Indigenous knowledge and data are a core part of AI policies. As Chadian environmental activist Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim rightly puts it, “Indigenous peoples must be recognized as rights holders and decision-makers — especially when newfangled technology has implications for their lands or intellectual heritage.” The state’s control over Indigenous bodies goes hand-in-hand with state surveillance. In Australia, Indigenous children are 23 times more likely to be under supervision and 28 times more likely to be in detention . What really stands out for me is what Genner Llanes-Ortiz , a Mexican Mayan researcher, argues — most modern state structures have categorically failed to understand the Indigenous communities. These societies once lived on the lands that provide homes to the descendants of settler-colonists as well as those who arrived in other ways. One important human aspect we may forget when discussing these issues is that the onus of protecting and preserving Indigenous cultures falls on individuals like Kshetrabasi Juang or Oksana Alkhunsaeva. There is an urgent need for resources — for more Indigenous individuals to collaborate before the few individual leaders burn out. Written by Subhashish Panigrahi