I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until my grandmother left this world. Now she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom.

Some interesting stories I came across during documentation of Tharu Indigenous folklore Originally published on Global Voices A Tharu woman from Kailali District of Western Nepal with tattoos on her legs. Photo by Indu Tharu, used with permission. 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 . As a child, I used to sit with my grandmother near a borais ( a small earthen pot used to make fire) during the harsh winter days. I would listen to her stories of benevolent and malevolent characters — djinns, spirits, ghosts, witches and wizards, trees, birds and animals that had special significance in the Tharu culture and tradition. She used to sing folk songs and then explain their meaning. I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until she left this world. Now that she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to join hands with Amrit Sufi and Subhasish Panigrahi , who have not only been documenting oral culture in India but have also inspired and helped many culture and tradition lovers document their own cultures. Documenting Indigenous folklore is time-consuming work. One needs to spend time with the communities before they are comfortable enough to open up and share their folktales, songs, phrases and idioms, not to mention their personal experiences. While documenting Tharu oral culture in eastern Nepal, I came across many interesting facts that would reveal untold facets of Indigenous stories if researched further. A tattoo has many stories to tell. A fish tattoo on the hand of Bhuti Devi from Nepal's Sunsari District. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. Morangsair: A song of seasonal migration When I recorded a folk song called “Morangsair” or “Morangesari,” which is still sung in the eastern part of Nepal’s southern plains, I learned about the seasonal migration of young men from the Saptari District , in the easternmost part of Madhesh Province to Morang District of Koshi Province in eastern Nepal where it was more fertile and provided work for men wanting to earn some extra money. Sunsari District , named after the Sursair River (nowadays called “Sunsari River”), was part of the Morang District before 1962. Now, we have to cross two rivers, the Koshi River and Sunsari River, to get to Sunsari (earlier Morang) from Saptari. The journey used to be much more difficult in those times, before bridges were built. The folk song is the lament of a young woman who is pleading with her husband not to go to Morang. She talks about the dense forest, the hot climate and the Sursair River, which he would need to cross to get to Morang. However, the song doesn’t mention the Koshi River, which is the biggest river in Nepal and lies ahead of the Sunsari River on the way to Morang. In the video below, Chandrakala Chaudhary from Itahari, Sunsari District, sings “Morangsair”, also called “Morangesari”: Researching further, I learned that the current Koshi River had been flowing many kilometres east of where it is now. In the Indian part, the river has shifted almost 100 kilometres west. Also, the Ganges River is called “Sursuri” or “Sursari” in the Guru Granth Sahib , a sacred Hindu scripture. The Sursair and Koshi Rivers eventually terminate in the Ganges. Biyahi: When a river is named after a married woman Talking with a Tharu elder, Mahabir Chaudhary, in Nepal’s Saptari District, I came across an interesting fact: A river and its tributary have been named after the Tharu words for a married woman. The river has been renamed “Behai” by the Nepali-speaking administrators. However, according to Tharu elders, the river’s original name is “Biyahi,” meaning the “first wife” in Kochila Tharu or Eastern Tharu language. A tributary called “Samdahi” feeds the river. Samdahi is the word for “second wife” in Eastern Tharu. The Samdahi River and Biyahi River, after the confluence, continue flowing as the Biyahi River. Sabudana ke gachhi: The tattoo motif that tells the story of sago pearls Kashia Chaudhary from Nepal's Sunsari District with a sago palm and marigold tattoos on her lower arms. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. These days, sabudana or sago found in the markets is made mainly from cassava root starch. However, traditionally sago pearls were also made from the pith of sago palms. I came to find out about this process of making sago pearls during an interview with elderly Eastern Tharu-speaking women. One of them showed a tattoo that looked like a palm tree and said that it was sabudana ke gachhi . “Gachhi” is a Tharu word for a tree. She also told me that sabudana used to be made from a palm tree. I then researched further and found that in the past they used to cut down the palm trees, scrape the starchy core from the trunk and process it further to make sago pearls. The tradition is still prevalent in some southeastern countries. There are many more stories I have heard while documenting Tharu oral culture that need to be told to a wider audience. But I still yearn to recall the stories told to me by my grandmother while sitting together by the fireside on chilly winter days. Written by Sanjib Chaudhary

About 60 to 70 percent of the Ghanaian population depends on the traditional medicine market for their medical care, according to a 2023 study in Frontiers in Pharmacology.

People in rural Ghana rely on traditional plant knowledge for three reasons: Accessibility, cost, and familiarity Originally published on Global Voices Vendor Yaa Akpe sells a branch of African Rosewood (Latin name Dalbergia Saxatilis) at her stall in Accra, Ghana. Photo by Jeslyn Lemke. Used with permission. 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 . T he traditional medicine market in Ghana, West Africa, is thriving, offering countless cures passed down by generations of Indigenous Ga and Twi tribes. As prices for Western pharmaceuticals and Western medical care rise, Ghanaians are relying on the medical remedies they have always turned to: plants. Dr. Kofi Donkor , deputy director of the Center for Plant Medicine Research, and an expert on the medical benefits of many traditional Ghanaian plants, noted: The traditional medicine practitioners themselves, for them, it is a profession. It is something that has been passed down from generation to generation to them. So they know how to use plants properly. Indeed, let me admit that for us in research, our primary source of knowledge, and in botanical research is from the traditional medicine practitioners. It is the knowledge from the practitioners that we try to validate using scientific methods. What we are doing in research is basically trying to validate the traditional knowledge that we get. Plant-based medicine is a big business in Ghana In rural Ghana, women start picking medicinal herbs from both the bush and cultivated plots early in the morning to sell fresh in the capital city of Accra. By mid-morning, they’ve set up their booths piled high with fresh vines, leaves, stems, and bark to sell to customers. Plant-based medicine is a big business in Ghana. The Center for Plant Medicine Research , created by the Ghanaian government in 1976, works with raw plant material to create natural products and treat patients. Their outpatient clinic sees roughly 16,000 patients a month. About 60 to 70 percent of the Ghanaian population depends on traditional medicine markets for their medical care, according to a 2023 study in Frontiers in Pharmacology . Donkor says many people in rural Ghana rely on traditional plant knowledge for three reasons: Accessibility, cost, and familiarity. In an interview with Global Voices, he explained: Indeed the data shows that in most developing countries, in rural communities, traditional medicine forms 80 percent of primary health care… It actually contributes largely to us trying to meet the goals of universal health care. The deep green forests and meadows of rural Ghana have been home to rural villagers for many years, so many villagers are already familiar with the various plants that can heal a disease. Living near these forests makes plant-based medicine an easy, cheaper option for treating disease in rural Ghana, when Western pharmacies are too expensive or far away. Donkor said many rural Ghanaians already know the right plants to treat a problem, and may only visit an herbal practitioner when a more complicated disease is present. He said: So sometimes when you are sick you don’t necessarily have to go to the traditional medicine practitioner in the community to get medication. You just go to your backyard and you know this herb is for malaria, this herb is for typhoid, this herb improves your hemoglobin levels, and you just pluck some, you boil, and you drink. Ongoing research on West African plants Botanical researchers at the Center for Plant Medicine Research are currently studying a full panel of West African plants for their ability to cure diseases, including a green shrub that has shown promising treatment against prostate cancer ( croton membranaceous ). When asked whether consumers can trust the plants sold in Accra’s open-air markets, Donkor cautioned that though vendors are probably selling the right plants, the dosage is really important. If a practitioner knows what they are doing and prescribes the right amount of a plant, it can be a powerful cure for the client. Featured in the above video is Patience, a plant healer who lives in Accra and regularly treats friends and family with traditional plants for many illnesses, including malaria, yeast infections, and colds. Patience shows how the common mother-in-law tongue plant ( Dracaena trifasciata ) can be prepared as a cold bath. She advises users to make a tea bath from the plant’s leaves, and then let it soak into the skin without drying oneself. She says the botanical brew calms anxiety and helps with good sleep. Spiritually, Patience says this plant can keep bad people away from one’s home if you keep it by the door. The scientific research at the Center for Plant Medicine Research, which draws on traditional medicine knowledge, adds legitimacy and international attention to the deep Indigenous knowledge of these plants. As Western drug costs and gas prices continue to rise in Ghana and across West Africa, the traditional medicine market can provide a sustainable source of natural healing for the population. Written by Jeslyn Lemke

If Dambe becomes increasingly commercialised, who establishes the policies governing it? Originally published on Global Voices Dambe fighters at the National Open of the Traditional Sports Tournament in Nigeria. Photo by Nshua Cali-Dibang, used with permission. By Nshua Cali-Dibang 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 . As Dambe fighters gather for a contest, the scene can look like a simple fight. Two opponents face one another, surrounded by drums, chants and spectators waiting for the first strike. Yet behind the spectacle is a tradition deeply associated with the Hausa people of Nigeria and West Africa . Dambe is a traditional combat sport historically practised by Hausa communities, particularly among butchers and tradesmen. According to BBC Sport , the sport was associated with festivals and harvest periods and was regarded as a test of bravery. Its history has also been connected to preparing men for warfare and, in some communities, rites of passage. Dambe is going global For generations, therefore, Dambe has existed within particular communities and social relationships. But today, the sport is moving beyond those traditional settings. Its appearance on social media has introduced it to audiences far beyond Nigeria. Dambe Warriors , for example, used YouTube to transform local competitions into content for a global audience, with millions of views coming from outside Nigeria. This visibility presents an important opportunity. Greater exposure can create new audiences, income and recognition for fighters. BBC Sport reported that Dambe's online popularity had grown dramatically, while promoters hoped the sport could move beyond its local origins and become internationally recognised . But visibility also raises a question about who gets to define Dambe as it enters the mainstream. Connected beliefs and traditions One of the clearest examples is the spiritual dimension surrounding some Dambe fighters. Reporting by Al Jazeera documented fighters wearing amulets, undertaking fortification rituals and using herbal preparations before competitions. These practices demonstrate that, for some practitioners, Dambe is connected to beliefs and traditions that extend beyond the physical contest. This raises an important question about how Indigenous cultural practices are interpreted. An object that may appear to an outside observer as decoration can carry a completely different meaning for the person who wears it. Rather than deciding what these practices mean from outside, their meaning should be understood through the voices of the people and communities who practise them. Influence of professional sporting structures Dambe is also changing structurally. Modern organisers are introducing rules intended to make competitions safer and easier to follow. According to BBC Sport , African Warriors introduced three three-minute rounds, a points system, and clearer definitions of knockdowns as part of efforts to make the sport safer and fairer. These changes are not necessarily a threat to tradition. Professionalisation can bring better opportunities, safety measures, sponsorship and income for fighters. The same BBC report documented fighters earning prize money and organisers attracting international interest. Yet modernisation raises another question: what should be preserved, and who decides? The question of preservation If Dambe becomes increasingly commercialised, who establishes the policies governing it? Should decisions come primarily from government and sports administrators, private promoters, cultural institutions, traditional authorities, or the communities that have historically practised the sport? There may not be a simple answer. Regulation can provide structure and safety, while professionalisation can create opportunities that traditional competitions may not have been able to offer. But if decisions about the future of Dambe are made without meaningful participation from its communities, there is a risk that the sport's cultural context becomes secondary to its commercial value. This is where Dambe becomes relevant to Indigenous rights. Dambe’s future Cultural heritage is not simply something to be displayed during festivals or packaged for outside audiences. It can be living knowledge, practised by communities and adapted by each generation. The question is therefore not whether Dambe should remain exactly as it was in the past. Communities themselves may want the sport to change. The more important question is whether they have a meaningful voice in deciding how it changes. As Dambe moves from community arenas to YouTube channels, organised championships and professional sporting structures, its future should involve the people who have carried the tradition forward. Fighters, elders, organisers, cultural practitioners and community members should be part of conversations about its regulation, representation, commercialisation and preservation. The future of Dambe does not have to be a choice between tradition and modernity. The sport can grow while remaining connected to its cultural roots. But growth should not mean that the communities that gave Dambe its meaning become spectators in the story of its future. The question is no longer simply how far Dambe can go. It is who gets to decide where it goes. Written by Guest Contributor

As health-conscious consumers increasingly look beyond wheat, Africa’s Indigenous crops are finding new commercial value. Originally published on Global Voices Packaged Cassava and Potato flour. Photo by Bonface Orucho. Used with permission. This story was written by Bonface Orucho and originally published by Bird Story Agency on July 28, 2026. This revised version is republished below as part of a content-sharing agreement. It is also part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” You can support this coverage by donating here . Wheat has long dominated Africa’s bakeries. But inside Nairobi’s Kirsten Bakery, shelves increasingly feature breads, cakes, and pastries made from naturally gluten-free ingredients such as cassava , millet , and sorghum . The bakery is one example of a broader shift unfolding across Africa, where changing consumer preferences are creating new commercial opportunities for entrepreneurs, food scientists, and manufacturers to transform Indigenous crops into premium food products. The growing appetite for gluten-free foods is not driven solely by medical necessity, such as celiac disease, which makes people intolerant to gluten, explained Judith Moraa, a Nairobi-based nutritionist: Nowadays, people are choosing gluten-free foods not only because they have celiac disease but also because they are sensitive to gluten and experience allergic reactions after consuming products that contain it. She noted that eliminating gluten is not, by itself, a weight-loss strategy, explaining that many consumers mistakenly associate wheat with weight gain when the other contributors, such as excess calories from fats and sugars added during food preparation, are to blame. For consumers who can tolerate gluten, Moraa argues there is no medical reason to eliminate it entirely. However, she added that naturally gluten-free Indigenous crops such as cassava, millet and sorghum offer valuable nutritional benefits because they are rich in dietary fiber that supports digestion. Those changing dietary preferences are increasingly translating into commercial opportunity. The global gluten-free baked goods market was valued at approximately USD 2.6 billion in 2025 and is projected to reach USD 7.38 billion by 2034, according to Fortune Business Insights , reflecting growing demand for specialized bakery products. Although Europe and North America continue to dominate much of the market, African businesses are increasingly positioning Indigenous crops as locally sourced alternatives capable of supplying both domestic consumers and international markets. For many African food manufacturers, Indigenous crops offer advantages beyond nutrition. Cassava , millet and sorghum can often be sourced locally, reducing dependence on imported wheat while strengthening domestic agricultural value chains. Many of these crops are also more resilient to drought and changing climatic conditions, making them increasingly attractive as governments pursue food security alongside industrial development. Making African gluten-free ingredients competitive Researchers are already developing technologies that could make African gluten-free ingredients more competitive in the international market. At the University of Pretoria , Food Science researcher Daddy Kgonothi has developed a patent-pending modified marama bean protein concentrate designed to improve the quality and affordability of gluten-free baked products. Marama beans , drought-resistant and nutrient-rich legumes native to Southern Africa, are being used to tackle one of the biggest technical and commercial challenges facing gluten-free baking: Replicating the structure, elasticity and soft texture that gluten naturally provides in bread. Kgonothi noted: A growing number of consumers with celiac disease are unable to consume gluten-containing foods such as bread and therefore rely on alternative gluten-free products. However, many commercially available gluten-free products are expensive due to the large number of ingredients required to achieve desirable product quality. The invention, which emerged from Kgonothi’s doctoral research and is currently at the prototype stage with a patent application filed, is aimed at food manufacturers producing gluten-free bakery products. He added: I hope that this invention will ultimately reach the right stakeholders, particularly those actively involved in the FMCG (Fast-Moving Consumer Goods) industry. Transforming potatoes into gluten-free foods South African researchers are also exploring ways to transform cosmetically rejected potatoes into premium gluten-free foods, creating new markets for produce that would otherwise go to waste. According to Potatoes South Africa, around 140,000 tons of potatoes worth roughly 759 million South African Rand (USD 46.92 million) are rejected from the formal market each year because they fail to meet retailers’ aesthetic standards, despite being suitable for consumption. Researchers are now investigating how those potatoes can be converted into gluten-free flour and other value-added products. At Stellenbosch University , food science researcher Tanja du Toit has developed gluten-free breads, muffins and pancakes using reformulated potato flour, overcoming one of the biggest technical barriers in gluten-free baking. She explained: Potato flour is naturally gluten-free, which presents an enormous opportunity for product development, especially using lower-grade potatoes, since the defects in potatoes are masked when they’re made into flour. At the University of Pretoria, researchers have also developed gluten-free ready meals, including beef and potato lasagne, using lower-grade potatoes. Consumer trials found that willingness to buy the products increased significantly once shoppers learned they helped reduce food waste, suggesting sustainability is becoming an important driver of purchasing decisions alongside growing demand for convenient gluten-free foods. Researchers believe such innovations could create new value chains for potatoes previously treated as waste, improving farmers’ returns while supplying the expanding market for gluten-free food products. The commercial opportunities Governments are also beginning to build the institutional foundations for the sector. Nigeria recently secured approval through the Codex Alimentarius Commission to lead the development of an international standard for root and tuber flours, including cassava, yam, and sweet potato flour. Similar developments are emerging across the continent. Cassava is increasingly being processed into gluten-free flour across West and Central Africa, while sorghum and millet are finding new applications in specialty foods in Eastern and Southern Africa. Ethiopia’s teff is also moving beyond its traditional regional market. In February, British International Investment committed USD 5 million to Lovegrass Ethiopia to expand production of teff-based foods for domestic and export markets, highlighting growing investor confidence in Indigenous grains. The crop is also beginning to spread beyond Ethiopia, with Kenya’s Agricultural and Livestock Research Organization (KALRO) piloting drought-tolerant teff varieties in Marsabit as part of efforts to strengthen climate resilience while positioning farmers to serve the expanding global market for gluten-free foods. Fonio , cultivated across parts of West Africa, is similarly attracting commercial interest as demand grows for nutrient-rich alternative grains. The commercial opportunity is also extending to finished consumer products. South African producer Colleen’s Handmade Sauces recently expanded into the United Arab Emirates through premium online grocery retailer Kibsons, illustrating how African manufacturers are increasingly exporting gluten-free and clean-label foods alongside ingredients. That commercial momentum is becoming increasingly visible at industry exhibitions such as the AFMASS Food Expo in Nairobi, where millers, ingredient suppliers, equipment manufacturers, and food processors are dedicating growing attention to specialized flours and value-added African ingredients. New product development is also accelerating. Companies such as Mugala Naturals are formulating snack bars using Indigenous ingredients, including teff and amaranth, to meet growing demand for clean-label foods made without artificial additives. These developments in food production and research put the continent in a prime position to lead the artisanal ingredient industry in the future. Written by Bird

African governments can lead by requiring environmental and social impact assessments for AI infrastructure Originally published on Global Voices Ibrahim says AI has the potential to support, rather than replace, Indigenous peoples’ knowledge. She gives a positive example in Chad, where participatory mapping, satellite data and predictive AI tools have helped anticipate drought and protect herders’ migration routes. Image: Chadpix / Alamy via Dialogue Earth. Used with permission. This article by Brian Obara was originally published by Dialogue Earth on August 13, 2026 . It is republished on Global Voices as part of a content partnership agreement. It is also part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” You can support this coverage by donating here . Dialogue Earth speaks with the Chadian environmental activist Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim about Indigenous perspectives on AI. As African governments develop national artificial intelligence strategies, questions of safety, economic competition and employment have dominated the policy debate. Less attention has been paid to how AI expansion may affect environments, water and biodiversity, or the rights of communities whose territories and knowledge are being encroached upon. These concerns arise at several points in the AI value chain. The associated data centres require energy, water and land, while their hardware depends on mineral supply chains. AI systems may collect and reproduce cultural, linguistic and environmental knowledge without recognising that such information is often held collectively by a community, rather than by an individual. This is important because conventional data protection frameworks tend to focus on individual data privacy and ownership, making them poorly equipped to protect collectively held information. In July, the UN held its first-ever Global Dialogue on AI Governance , in Geneva, Switzerland. Among those in attendance was Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim. She is president of the Association for Indigenous Women and Peoples of Chad , and a former chair of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. While there, she took part in discussions on advancing environmentally sustainable AI governance that also respects the rights of Indigenous peoples. Here, Ibrahim tells Dialogue Earth about the importance of bringing Indigenous perspectives to Africa’s AI governance debate. She explains why African governments should incorporate biodiversity, land rights and collectively owned data considerations into their AI policies. She says Indigenous peoples must be recognised as rights holders and decision-makers – especially when newfangled technology has implications for their lands or intellectual heritage. The interview has been edited for length and clarity. Dialogue Earth: As African countries develop national AI strategies, what opportunities do governments have to reflect the continent’s environmental realities and cultural diversity? Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, 2023. Image by Boris Baldinger / World Economic Forum , CC BY-NC . Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim : Africa is home to extraordinary biological and cultural diversity, but it also faces significant pressures from climate change, mineral extraction, land degradation and infrastructure expansion. National AI strategies should therefore connect technological development with biodiversity protection, climate resilience, land rights and the responsible management of natural resources. African governments can lead by requiring environmental and social impact assessments for AI infrastructure. This would help protect water and land from unsustainable data centre development, and ensure that mineral demand does not drive ecosystem destruction or dispossession. They can also make Indigenous peoples formal participants in AI governance and protect collective rights over our rich and diverse cultural, linguistic and environmental data. There is also an opportunity to invest in African and community-controlled AI capacity: local research institutions, Indigenous peoples’ innovation centres, African language and culture models, and technologies designed for African and community needs, rather than external markets. What are current AI governance debates missing by leaving biodiversity and Indigenous rights at the margins? AI governance has largely been built around a western, human-centred understanding of risk. Policymakers are rightly concerned about issues such as misinformation, employment, discrimination and security. But they have paid far less attention to the natural systems that make economies and societies possible. As a result, biodiversity loss, ecosystem damage and Indigenous peoples’ rights are rarely treated as core AI governance issues. There is also a wider risk. Without ecological guardrails, AI could accelerate extraction, consumption and infrastructure development in ways that place even greater pressure on ecosystems and Indigenous peoples. Many of the lands under pressure from the mineral, energy and infrastructure sectors are Indigenous peoples’ territories and biodiversity-rich areas. AI governance cannot be described as responsible if it does not protect the ecosystems and cultures on which communities depend. What should meaningful Indigenous participation in AI governance involve? Indigenous peoples should help shape the safeguards that protect their rights, knowledge and territories. They should participate in decisions about how systems affecting them are deployed. This must be done with respect for free, prior and informed consent. Participation is not only about consultation. Indigenous peoples must be recognised as decision-makers and rights holders, particularly when AI policies, infrastructure projects or data practices affect their land, knowledge or cultural heritage. How are existing data protection systems failing to protect knowledge and data held collectively by communities, rather than individuals? Conventional data protection systems tend to focus on individual privacy. They do not adequately protect a community’s collective rights over its language, cultural heritage, traditional knowledge or territorial information. Indigenous peoples must retain control over whether and how their knowledge and data are used. Governments and companies should recognise that Indigenous peoples’ data is often collective and develop consultation frameworks that reflect this. AI companies should also audit their models for linguistic and cultural bias, include Indigenous leaders and experts throughout the process, and create mechanisms that allow communities to challenge or remove inaccurate or harmful representations. Can AI support Indigenous knowledge and conservation without replacing community expertise? There are encouraging examples in which AI is supporting, rather than replacing, Indigenous peoples’ knowledge. Some examples are outlined in a recent report to the UN Economic and Social Council on Indigenous peoples and AI. In the Amazon, Indigenous communities have worked with NGOs and researchers to use AI-supported satellite monitoring to detect illegal deforestation and mining. In Chad, participatory mapping and predictive analysis have been combined with pastoral knowledge to anticipate drought and protect herder’s migration routes. In the Arctic, Sámi and Inuit communities have integrated traditional knowledge with predictive models to monitor changes in sea ice, wildlife movements and the impacts of extractive industries. The important point is that the technology should strengthen existing knowledge rather than replace it. Indigenous peoples bring detailed, place-based understanding accumulated over generations. AI can help analyse information and identify patterns, but it cannot substitute for the cultural context, relationships and judgement that make that knowledge meaningful. AI can also help communities and conservation organisations process large volumes of information more quickly. It can support the detection of deforestation and illegal extraction, identify changes in ecosystems, analyse satellite or acoustic data, predict environmental threats and improve monitoring in places that have historically lacked resources. The strongest opportunities are those in which AI supports priorities defined by communities themselves and strengthens the capacity of people already protecting nature. But these benefits are not automatic. Technology can reinforce inequality when tools are designed without community participation, when data is extracted without consent, or when communities lack the infrastructure and funding needed to use the systems themselves. Using AI to monitor forest loss does not compensate for an AI growth model that drives greater energy use, mineral extraction, water consumption or habitat destruction. What is one AI governance recommendation you would make to world leaders? Leaders must ensure that no AI system, policy or infrastructure project affecting Indigenous peoples, their data or their territories proceeds without their free, prior and informed consent. That principle should apply across the entire AI value chain: from the extraction of minerals and construction of data centres to the collection of Indigenous peoples’ knowledge, and the deployment of AI tools in communities. This is not only about preventing harm. It is about recognising Indigenous peoples as decision-makers and rights holders. World leaders should embed Indigenous peoples’ participation and data sovereignty directly into national and international AI governance frameworks, rather than treating them as optional social safeguards. Written by Dialogue Earth