Decolonizing nature conservation according to natural law: learning from the Kogui

Abstract

With rising concerns over the failed outcomes of global conservation strategies and the militarization of environmental monitoring and enforcement, there is an urgent need for decolonizing nature conservation. This article examines the position of Indigenous peoples as rights-and-knowledge-holders in this discourse and the vital role they play in biodiversity conservation globally. I present a 2018 case study of the Kogui Indigenous peoples of Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia, one of the last remaining examples of a sustainable biocultural system. My results demonstrate that the success of the Kogui is largely defined by their: (a) nature-based cosmovision, (b) strong cultural identity related to that cosmovision, and (c) functioning governance system ordered by Natural Law. These findings stand as beacons to reframe the nature conservation paradigm and help humanity re-find and re-connect with our place in, and relationship with, both the material and non-material worlds.

Introduction

The global nature conservation agenda has over the past century or more been driven by a Western philosophy of wilderness preservation, the main purpose being to preserve natural areas of scenic beauty and biodiversity free from human exploitation. This model of people-free parks has spread throughout the world, creating a dichotomy of people versus nature, with devastating effects on not only local populations—whose relations with nature are very different from the ideologies of many Western conservationists—but on the relationship between humanity and our natural world in general.

This neoliberal conservation model is receiving ever more criticism for a number of reasons (Büscher et al., 2012). First, although protected areas remain among the most effective tools for conserving biodiversity (Geldmann et al., 2013), they are not as effective in meeting their conservation objectives by, for example halting deforestation, encroachment, and poaching, as they may appear to be (Mora & Sale, 2011). Indeed, there is a massive discrepancy between the amount of ecological knowledge and funding directed for conservation purposes, on the one hand, and actual conservation success, on the other hand (Saterson et al., 2004). In other words, while massive amounts of money and resources have been allocated to conservation projects worldwide, there is little empirical evidence of tangible conservation achievements on a global scale. On the contrary, studies indicate that poaching persists widely and large mammal populations, in particular, are declining at alarming rates, in spite of strong restrictions on access and use, and high investments and efforts in security patrols and eco-guards in and around protected areas (Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services [IPBES], 2019).

The current global conservation doctrine has also been severely accused of breaching human rights, with rising concerns over the militarization of environmental monitoring and enforcement. There are alarming accounts from around the world of intolerant and coercive approaches of park managers towards Indigenous residents in parks (Mukpo, 2020). Such conservation approaches have for decades characterized the work of many of the world’s largest conservation organizations and resulted in hundreds of thousands of people being displaced from their homelands (Dowie, 2009). Ironically, displaced local peoples and communities are the very custodians who had for generations been protecting and sustaining that same resource base from which they are forcefully evicted. Not surprisingly then, there are also numerous examples in the scientific literature of negative outcomes from the imposition of typical enforcement resulting in resistance and rejection on the part of local and Indigenous communities vis-à-vis conservation initiatives (Haalboom & Campbell, 2012). This inhumane phenomenon is particularly prevalent in Africa, Asia, and Latin America, where many Indigenous peoples and local communities still largely and directly depend on immediate natural resources for their livelihoods, and where conservation areas often serve more as ecotourism parks for elite foreign tourists (Paksi & Pyhälä, 2018).

In addition to human rights abuses in situ, several large conservation non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have also been found to be partnering with institutions responsible for destructive and unsustainable practices that outright contradict conservation efforts (Latham, 2012), rendering the integrity, credibility, and ethics of such conservation organizations and their mission highly questionable. Meanwhile, a growing powerful movement of conservation biologists proposes to halt biodiversity loss by setting aside half of Earth’s land for conservation, referred to as the Nature Needs Half initiative (Wilson, 2016). What these conservationists fail to account for is that nature does not have boundaries the way our politically drawn maps do, meaning that whatever we undertake on the other non-protected half of the Earth would inevitably impact on the protected half (Büscher et al., 2016). Another major concern is that of equity: who would have the right to decide on access to these last protected remnants of nature, and based on what criteria? Judging by the current model of protected areas, presumably access would be prioritized for the rich elite. These are all questions that, from the systemic perspective, render the entire Half-Earth conservation proposal highly unconvincing (Dudley et al., 2018).

In response to global pressure, Indigenous peoples’ rights have for the past two decades been a central element in debates about the political ecology of conservation (Chatty & Colchester, 2002), and international conservation policy, at least on paper, has been calling for increased participation of local communities and Indigenous peoples in conservation efforts (Reyes-Garcia et al., 2022). Having stood the test of time, Indigenous governance of conservation territories is demonstrated to be highly effective from the human rights, environmental justice, and biodiversity enhancement perspectives (Borrini-Feyerabend & Campese, 2017; Rodríguez & Inturias, 2018). There is evidence that Indigenous peoples’ and local communities’ conservation investments are far more effective than top-down strategies (Ding et al., 2016), the former spending less than, and achieving at least as much per hectare as, investments by governmental and other ex situ actors (Tauli-Corpuz et al., 2020). Yet, despite local realities, conservation planning continues to be dominated by natural scientists, partly or completely disregarding local histories, knowledge, livelihoods, culture, and land rights.

Given the above evidence and arguments, there is an urgent need for decolonizing nature conservation, given the enormous gap between international human rights obligations, principles and commitments by national governments, donors and NGOs on the one hand, and what takes place on the ground (Domínguez & Luoma, 2020). This article first takes a closer look at the position of Indigenous peoples as rights-and-knowledge-holders in this discourse (Dhillon, 2018), as well as the vital role they play in biodiversity conservation globally (Garnett et al., 2018). The study is based on a case study of the Kogui Indigenous peoples of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta (SNSM), Colombia, elaborating on how their nature-based cosmovision underpins their interaction in, with, and for both the material and non-material world. Drawing from this, the article reflects on what we all, including conservation actors and decision-makers, can learn from the Kogui in order to reconsider our place in and with nature. Before concluding, some recommendations are provided on how nature conservation ought to be re-thought and reframed—and indeed decolonized—in order for it to be more ethical, inclusive, and effective.

Materials and methods

This article draws from a case study with the Kogui that numbers approximately 23,000 people across 49 communities in SNSM, Colombia. The Kogui live in what is officially administered as the Resguardo Kogui-Malayo-Arhuaco (Kogui-Malayo-Archuaco Reservation) (Resguado). That said, the ancestral territory of the Kogui is much larger, and marked by the Seshizha (the Black Line), also known as the Linea Negra, demarcating the “ancestral jurisdiction” (Organisación Gonawindúa Tayrona [OGT], 2017, p. 6).

This article draws on data from two field visits: the first comprising 1-month of fieldwork (March–April 2018), during which the author carried out interviews (n = 18) and one focus group (n = 8) with Kogui and other Indigenous representatives in the city of Santa Marta as well as in various parts of the Sierra Nevada and Tayrona National Parks. The author had the opportunity to stay in two Kogui communities, La Ciudad Perdida and Tungueka, both in which in-depth interviews were carried out with Kogui youth, elders, and leaders. All interviews and the focus group were carried out in person, by the author, in Spanish, unless the informant(s) did not speak Spanish, in which case a translator provided simultaneous translation between Spanish and Kogui. The focus group was carried out with elders, leaders, and mamos (the highest ranked spiritual leaders and the principal knowledge holders among the Kogui) of the community Tungueka. Interviews with relevant Indigenous NGO representatives in Bogota and Santa Marta were also administered.

The second visit took place in November 2018, when the author spent a week with the then cabildo governador (political leader) of the Kogui, and met again with representatives at the OGT, the principal political body officially representing the four Indigenous peoples of SNSM. On this second visit, the author also interviewed authorities of the Sierra Nevada National Park. Names of all interviewees are withheld for anonymity. Free, prior, and informed consent was verbally obtained from all interviewees.

The author acknowledges her positionality as a middle-aged White woman with a background in both social and environmental sciences. She brings the experience of both her multi-cultural heritage and multi-disciplinary professional development to this work, acknowledging the privilege she has in being able to access certain resources, and striving to be aware of own biases and recognizing how these may shape the research.

Results

Although the Kogui have to a large extent managed to maintain their culture and environment intact, they are increasingly facing a number of challenges and pressures threatening their land, livelihood, and well-being. These threats range from deforestation by outside settlers clearing land for agriculture and extensive livestock raising, to mining and flooding from dams, as well as reclining wetlands along the coast due to built-up infrastructure and overdevelopment. Nowadays, access to many sacred sites has been cut off by highways and other intrusive, destructive large-scale development projects and infrastructure. Much of Kogui ancestral land has been taken over by the state and sold to outside settlers, including foreigners, who are now flocking to these lush, productive lands to set up tourism ventures or agricultural, largely cacao and coffee, plantations. The Kogui see that humanity—the children, are weakening the Earth’s ecology due to modern-day resource exploitation by non-Kogui societies, whom they refer to as the younger brother.

Till now, the Kogui have remained largely in refuge from the worst effects of colonization and globalization, allowing them to preserve much of their traditional way of life. Indeed, the Kogui are well known precisely for having strongly resisted the Western model of so-called development (Pyhälä, 2020), and for choosing instead to continue to strongly guard their own culture and identity, with very limited interaction with the outside world. Moreover, their territory stands out in the wider region as an island of intact, extremely well-preserved forests and waterways—acknowledged even by the national administration responsible for protected areas.

The question arises: what has enabled the Kogui to maintain—amid numerous external pressures—such a harmonious relationship in and with their natural environment, thereby keeping it intact, healthy, and balanced? Below are outlined what the author considers to be some key explanatory factors underpinning the exceptionally sustainable and resilient lifeway of the Kogui, namely their (a) nature-based cosmovision, (b) strong cultural identity, and (c) intricately intertwined spiritual-political governance model over both social and natural systems.

Natural law: overarching nature-based cosmovision

The Kogui believe that the function or task given to them by Jaba Sé (the Mother of Origin) is to care for, feed, and heal all that remains in nature. The ancestral territory is what, according to the Kogui, the Jaba Sé left to them and the three other Indigenous peoples of the SNSM in order for them to carry out their mission of caring for nature (OGT, 2017). This belief system is guided by Aluna, the Great Mother and the force behind nature. This holistic belief and knowledge system held by the Kogui is based on intricate interconnectivity among and between human and non-human elements, including water, mountains, earth, air, rivers, forests, plants, and animals. The natural environment is seen as representing Sé Nenulang, the Entire Universe, in which all components have an order: connections, relations, and functions both in the spiritual and material worlds, as established since the origin. The cultural use and management of each element of the ancestral territory is guided by this natural order.

The Kogui view their ancestral territory as a living document of codes that can be read in order to understand the woven order of life. In contrast to our Western notions of land use planning, natural resource management, and biodiversity conservation, the Kogui know and understand every element in nature according to its origin, history, order, and function, and based on this knowledge, they know how to use these wisely, respectfully, and sustainably. They see their territory as being ordered much like the human body, each part with its specific place and function, all inter-related, in order to maintain a healthy overall state. In the Kogui perspective, just as we need to take care of our own bodies (cleansing, feeding, protecting, maintaining healthy thoughts and relations, as well as healing and curing when hurt), we also need to take care of our territory in the same way.

Similarly, this cosmovision explains the importance of sacred sites, some of which are considered vital for the life of the entire (eco)system. The Kogui believe that everything that exists in nature originated first in sé (spirit). Similarly, all that which we see today existed first as a person: the trees were people; the water was a woman; the mountains were men. In becoming material, we see them as they are today, organized; but in the world of sé (spirits), they continue being people. All the elements in nature are beings with whom one must maintain communication in order for there to be balance and harmony in this world that we co-inhabit.

Sacred sites

Given that everything exists also in the spirit world, the Kogui believe it is their duty to make offerings to the spiritual beings of every resource and service provided to them, be it a tree for firewood or plant for medicine. Similarly, offerings are made to the stones, the water, the sun, the harvests, the food, the animals, the wind, and more. These offerings are given in sacred sites, which are fed by the offerings and by all the thoughts directed to the respective spiritual entities.

The Kogui care for the Earth according to principles and norms codified in sacred sites through gaka, codes that the Kogui can read and interpret in and across their ancestral territory. The recognition and care given to sacred sites is fundamental to the Kogui. Indeed, the Kogui ancestral territory is scattered with sacred sites, all the way from the coast up to the highest peaks, including mangroves, estuaries, and even sites in the sea. The majority of these remain secretly kept and well protected, with only a few being known to the outside world and visited by tourists, the most famous being La Ciudad Perdida (the Lost City). Large boulders with carvings represent what we would call maps, marking the walking routes along the mountain, indicating the sites of waterfalls, sacred sites, and other valued natural areas. Traditionally, the Kogui would make pilgrimages to these sacred sites to leave offerings, each with specific purposes. There are sacred sites to prevent, cure, and pay for illnesses; others where confessions are made; others where problems are solved; and others for governance and decision-making. Despite their importance, and as one mamo (singular of mamos) shared in his interview: “there are sacred sites that are being colonized and bought up by outsiders, including foreigners, meaning that the Indigenous Peoples can no longer do their sacred offerings there” (Elder, male, 77 years old).

The Kogui believe that sacred sites are the interrelations producing life and the sacred materials that allow the Kogui to do their traditional work, including their offerings to and healing of nature. If the sacred sites are destroyed, the balance between spiritual and material as well as the connections between the different components of the territory are altered, as is the possibility to continue their cultural work. The sacred sites are thus considered key to safeguarding traditional knowledge and teachings, and for people and nature to be able to continue to co-exist.

Strong-held culture and identity

Another significant contributor to the resilience of the Kogui peoples is their strong-held culture and identity. The Kogui live according to the principles of kualama (healthy living). Everything is carried out according to the laws and principles of kualama. For instance, maize is planted strictly in accordance with kinship, in that seeds are passed on to younger generations along a defined kinship lineage, and when there is a marriage, care is taken that seeds are given according to the correct lineage.

All knowledge, too, is structured according to traditional principles. For instance, geisha (when children learn how to speak) is carefully coordinated and aligned according to thought, spirit, eyes, and mouth—never overlooking any of these. Similarly, health is governed according to leyuma, and education and knowledge transmission is carried out according to the principles of shivulami. With these governing laws, the Kogui have managed to maintain their traditional knowledge systems and practices intact, including their language.

All the work carried out by each and every Kogui man, woman, and child has in common the sense of maintaining the order, integrity, and complementarity between humans and nature, to guarantee the well-being of people and the balance and harmony in the territory. Women in the Kogui culture are seen as representing Jaba Sé and are therefore considered the centre of force and power and thus even more sacred than men. Women also represent water, which is why it is equally important to care for women as it is to care for Mother Earth and its waters. Causing harm to one will harm the other. All the work has both a physical and a spiritual dimension, which is why these cultural practices are also referred to as spiritual work. The traditional work of the Kogui is seen primarily to regenerate, heal, offer, feed, secure, and register aspects and situations of the physical world in the spiritual world. The resilience of the Kogui is thus largely explained by this strong-held culture, identity, spirituality, and their sustained and healthy pride of these.

Spiritual leadership, social organization, and governance of natural resources

The Law of Origin, with its order and interconnectedness, is what constitutes the Kogui worldview, or cosmovision. It is the basis for their knowledge on how to govern the order and functioning of the universe, of their territory and natural systems. As such, it is reproduced in their social, political, economic, and cultural organization in order to guarantee the permanence of harmony. The combination of norms, principles, codes, and procedures is what constitutes the Kogui deep-rooted philosophy regarding the roles and responsibilities of humans in relation to the natural environment.

The traditional governance system of the Kogui is structured according to four ezwamas (principles representing the four primary river basins of the Resguardo). This highly logical ordering of governance according to river basins and access is largely what has enabled the Kogui to sustainably manage their watersheds and natural resources in a highly effective way for generations. Each ezwama has a hierarchy, its jurisdiction and competence, and from that is defined the territorial, social, political, and cultural order of the Kogui.

The Kogui practice their own form of self-governance based on the Law of Origin, which tells them how they should educate their children and organize themselves as a community, what they should and should not do, how to resolve problems and disorder, how to give offerings, and how to heal nature when they have not complied with the norms. The Law of Origin dictates to the Kogui where to live, how to live, where to hunt, where to build a house, where and how to cultivate, and how to use and care for their natural resources and for the elements, including the water, earth, trees, seeds, wind, animals, and plants. For instance, the Kogui hold on to strict hunting practices, prohibiting hunting of certain species like the jaguar.

The knowledge of, and compliance with, the Law of Origin is overseen by the mamos. They are in charge of overseeing all knowledge creation and transmission and safeguarding the balance and harmony of all beings. As one mamo shared,

The mamos are aware of and in charge of everything that we see—the water, the animals . . . It is the Mamos who know how to make the offering, the payment, how to take care. . . . For every tree cut, for every animal hunted, the person has to ask permission from the mamo, and also ask how (and where and what) to give the offering/payment back to nature, in return. (Elder, male, 65 years old)

As such, the mamo has oversight of the entire territory and its natural resources, thus being able to manage its harmony and balance, the taking and the giving back. Their knowledge and understanding, in turn, is learned in a long and arduous apprenticeship, maintained through Aluna.

The spiritual consulting of Jaba Sé is undertaken using zhátukwa and sewá, the mediums or tools that the mamos and responsible authorities use as a bridge to listen to the laws dictated by the spiritual world. Each consultation is accompanied by a clear and complete report of what is wanted and why. Based on this, the mamo knows which material works can be carried out, such as which trees can be cut and where or which animal can be hunted, and which spiritual works need to be done in order to maintain balance with the earth and not generate illness or conflicts that could manifest in the natural or human world.

The knowledge acquired by the mamo is sacred, constituting a cultural secret that allows them to interpret the universe and act according to it. The mamo acquire the skills to communicate with Jaba Sé, consulting her in any situation that requires decisions or actions, be they individual or communal. It is the mamo who gives instructions on the steps that need to be followed in order to carry out the traditional work, both physical and spiritual. The mamo also give reports to Jaba Sé of what is thought, done, dreamed, imagined, and felt. These are referred to as confessions, a process of releasing or emptying a person or a community of all that has been accumulated—positive or negative—so that Jaba Sé can indicate what needs to be done in order to maintain harmony and balance. As such, the knowledge and function of the mamo is the fundamental support system of the Kogui culture.

Today, much of this traditional knowledge held by the mamos is being lost, as children are increasingly attending school outside the village—schools designed according a Western, not Kogui, curriculum. One informant was particularly preoccupied about the loss of traditional knowledge on medicinal plants:

Only a few mamos and “mujeres sabias” [wise women] still hold this knowledge, and they are higher up in the Sierra, and this knowledge is not being passed on. This knowledge and practice is being lost as the villages further down the mountain are increasingly being brought health centres, so when people have an ailment, they go directly to these. There should be a separate/additional specific apprenticeship project to support the apprenticeships for mamos that are specialized only in medicinal plants. (Youth, male, 22 years old)

Similarly, while new initiatives in SNSM are increasingly involving youth representatives from the different Indigenous peoples in the Sierra, when asked what they thought of these projects, one mamo responded: “and who do they [the youth] represent? What are they going to do? How are they going to know what the mamos know?” (Elder, male, 72 years old).

The nikuma in turn is the political, social, and cultural organization of the villages. At this level, leadership lies in the hands of the mamos, the comisarios (political leaders responsible for civil matters), and the cabos (assistants, both senior and junior). The comisarios are in charge of the daily life and practical matters in the village. These traditional authorities are in charge of vigilance, control, and sanctions and for all members of the community to comply with the Law of Origin and to administer justice based on the norms dictated by the territory and interpreted by the mamos. Each village has one comisario (singular of comisarios), along with previous comisarios and elders who are consulted—all of whom consult with the mamos and implement the vision and order seen by the mamo. The cabos and comisarios, under the vision of the mamos, are responsible for overseeing the fair share and distribution of livelihood activities, including natural resource management. Each village has both household and communal fincas (agricultural plots), with tenientes de tierra (landowners) and basajos (helpers), forming a feudal-like system for managing land and natural resources. Each child that is born into the village is assigned an ayudante (mentor) to help them learn how to sustainably sow seeds and care for their cultivations and for the environment, enabling for knowledge transmission according to an egalitarian social and economic structure.

Externally, the Kogui are represented by the cabildo gobernador, who is based at the OGT. The OGT is the most prominent organization representing and working on Kogui rights to self-determination and territory, focusing its work on regenerating and recovering the ancestral territory in line with the biocultural rights of the Indigenous peoples of SNSM:

The priority is to buy these lands—so that the Resguardo is the owner. The Linea Negra is all ancestral territory. No one has the right to take this away, not even if the national government changes. (OGT representative, male, 45 years old)

To date, only a part of the original ancestral territory has been recuperated (López Rozo, 2020), and the Kogui and their representatives are desperately trying to get help in purchasing back the entirety of their original land so that they can better care for it and continue with their spiritual and livelihood practices.

Discussion

While the results presented above must not be assumed to represent and homogenize the Kogui experience and way of being and thinking, many points arise that are of relevance not only to conservation practitioners, but to any agents working on Indigenous territories. As such, the following text is not intended solely at the conservation community, misguided though it often is, but more generally to the whole colonial enterprise, that has had, and continues to have, such a profound effect on Indigenous peoples both generally and in Colombia.

The predominant Western conservation paradigm continues to make the mistaken assumption that humans inherently impact negatively on nature. While this may be the case in much of the world, and certainly in societies following the unsustainable capitalist-driven development model, this is clearly not the case for the Kogui and many other Indigenous and traditional communities who continue to safeguard and manage their environment and natural resources in a sustainable way. As demonstrated above, the Kogui continue to demonstrate detailed ecological knowledge and traditional conservation practices, a strong spiritual and physical link to their natural environment, as well as sophisticated ideas of what sustainable use of territory means for them and for future generations.

The fact that SNSM remains ecologically intact despite generations of inhabitance by the Kogui demonstrates that the locally defined Indigenous management of natural resources has stood the test of time and is apparently sustainable. This is glaringly obvious when comparing SNSM to the rest of what once was Kogui territory, to which they have largely lost access. The same can be said for many Indigenous territories elsewhere in terms of their conservation value (Fernández-Llamazares et al., 2020). Globally, and in the context of many countries, a large share of the world’s biodiversity is concentrated in Indigenous territories, where cultural and linguistic diversity are also richest (Gorenflo et al., 2012). In fact, Indigenous peoples exercise management and tenure rights on a quarter of the world’s land, but account for some 40% of terrestrial protected areas and intact habitat (Garnett et al., 2018). In these areas, Indigenous communities have over many generations based their livelihood, culture, and identity on these landscapes and ecosystems, and their often nomadic or semi-nomadic lifestyles depend directly on the non-intensive use of often extensive areas.

Another common mistake and assumption underlying mainstream conservation initiatives is that there exists a dichotomy between people and nature (Morrison, 2015). The very notion of a nature as something separate from humans and needing to be conserved is foreign to many Indigenous cultures who embody a non-dual, holistic, and already harmonious relationship with and in nature.

Yet, as seen in the case of the Kogui, it becomes quite obvious that ecology and society cannot and should not be understood or managed independently. In fact, as demonstrated in this study, it is the very relationship between people and nature that is key in defining whether sustainable management of natural resources will succeed or fail.

The Kogui represent a rare example of a culture that still maintains a harmonious, largely self-sufficient relationship with the natural environment. What, then, can we learn from the Kogui when it comes to relating in and with our natural environment and governing our use and management of natural resources? First, the Kogui point us to the fundamental importance of embracing a nature-based cosmovision, one that reminds us that our place in this world is not to consume nature as if it were a limitless commodity, as the current capitalist system dictates, but rather, to care for nature. A nature-based worldview embraces the environment holistically, recognizing that all elements are interconnected in a highly functional manner and hence not to be managed separately as done in the current mainstream approach to conservation and natural resource management.

Another often overlooked principle in the conservation discourse that the Kogui remind us of is the importance of maintaining a strong cultural identity, one that is place-specific, co-evolved with the immediate natural environment, and respectively fine-tuned over generations. In such a society, traditional knowledge is valued, safeguarded, and passed on from one generation to another. Third, the Kogui case presented above underscores the value of having a governance system that interweaves and embraces the spiritual, political, legislative, and natural—all in one—guided by a common sense that is not human-defined, but rather, defined by a source from which we all originate: the Law of Origin, or the Natural Law. In so doing, no single one individual can impose or corrupt the system with their particular personal preferences; rather, the entire system is ordered by something larger. For this to take place, the role of the mamos is crucial, as it is via their skills, wisdom, and overview that order and balance is maintained as dictated by the spiritual world. Such a governance system also ensures that it is logically and effectively adjusted to the appropriate scale, according to naturally occurring phenomena. Such a system is also inherently egalitarian, a characteristic considered fundamental for a biocultural system to thrive over generations (Armitage et al., 2020).

Perhaps the greatest challenge currently facing the Kogui is that they have virtually no tenure security over their traditional lands, meaning that allocations for other uses—notably logging, mining and oil concessions, agro-industrial plantations, and also protected areas—are effectively pushing their communities to ever smaller areas of land where they toil to meet their subsistence needs (López Rozo, 2020). Increasingly, many binding and non-binding instruments offer protection of local and Indigenous communities’ rights to lands and livelihoods, as well as fundamental rights and freedoms, including in the context of conservation (Reyes-Garcia et al., 2022). However, while these principles are enshrined in several legal instruments, their implementation falls short, and the Kogui, like many Indigenous peoples worldwide, appear to bear the highest cost. This is related to their continued discrimination and marginalization, and the challenges they face in getting their rightful say in political negotiations. Moreover, the limited consultation and participation mechanisms that are in place are particularly ill suited to Kogui socio-cultural realities.

Yet, while the Kogui, like many Indigenous peoples, may disagree with the imposed colonial model that has dispossessed them of their rights, or with the agents that have implemented it, it is worth noting that Indigenous peoples and conservationists often share the core ultimate objective of protecting the integrity of the natural environment, even though their particular motivations may vary (Girard et al., 2022). Some scholars argue that—especially in the face of competing demands on resources, for example, from logging, mining, and oil companies—there is often substantial common interest between Indigenous people wishing to retain their rights to land, and conservationists who wish to preserve ecological habitats for biodiversity (Youdelis et al., 2021). Strategic alliances between conservationists supporting Indigenous peoples in securing land rights, and the latter helping to conserve biodiversity, and thus, in many cases, their cultures and livelihoods, are therefore not only possible, but recommendable.

Indeed, several scholars call for a paradigm shift towards a more “inclusive conservation” (Tallis & Lubchenko, 2014, p. 27), in order to “respect and incorporate different worldviews and knowledge systems into conservation planning” (Gavin et al., 2015, p. 2). Studies suggest that strong community-based surveillance and conservation management are associated with the protection and recovery of species, high biodiversity, and lower carbon emissions (Campos-Silva et al., 2018). Moreover, community forest management can be as effective as depopulated parks (and often more so) at delivering long-term forest protection as well as local benefits, and global studies demonstrate that forests managed by local communities show lower deforestation rates than strictly protected forests (Porter-Bolland et al., 2012). Similarly, protected areas that explicitly integrate local people as stakeholders tend to be more effective at achieving joint biological conservation and socioeconomic development outcomes (Oldekop et al., 2015), and a real commitment to partnership with local communities offers conservation outcomes that are not only more ethical, but also more practicable than current models (Vermeulen & Sheil, 2007). Where appropriate, joint management regimes to coordinate with institutions of state and international governance can also be useful (Borrini-Feyerabend et al., 2014), and funding should be diverted from big NGOs to smaller grassroots initiatives or community-based organizations.

Putting in place legal resources, tools, and processes for the defence of self-governed territories of life and their defenders is ever more urgent (Zanjani et al., 2023). There are a growing number of global movements advocating for the defence of so-called Territories of Life, also known as Indigenous and Community Conserved Territories and Areas (ICCAs) (Kothari et al., 2013; Zanjani et al., 2023). Such movements are advocating for fundamental changes in international and national legal systems in order to accommodate for local, traditional, and customary law that ensures the biocultural rights of the custodians of such territories and to fully recognize ICCAs and other effective conservation measures (Dudley et al., 2018). In this process, for Indigenous peoples like the Kogui to better be able to claim and communicate their rights in the global conservation discourse and policy setting, it is essential that community-based capacity building takes place via self-strengthening processes (Borrini-Feyerabend & Campese, 2017), replacing previous models of so-called development cooperation, and building local capacity for fund-raising should be part of any collaboration. Conservation actors and policy-makers are thus called to support Kogui communities in their own capacity for territorial mapping and documentation, including remote sensing and GIS (Geographic Information Systems) techniques, to take stock of cultural and biological values to be protected and promoted (Sheil et al., 2015).

Similarly, locally led knowledge and resource mapping processes such as biocultural protocols (Girard et al., 2022) are extremely valuable and could involve connecting local Kogui communities with expert partners for conducting ecological and economic self-assessments and design of sustainable land-based livelihood strategies specifically adapted to their culture and territory of life, joining traditional knowledge and modern technologies. At all stages, Kogui-led codes of ethical conduct, inspired by processes such as the Akwe: Kon [all of us] Guidelines of the Convention on Biodiversity and tools for dialogue with the help of, for example, the Whakatane Mechanism, are essential for guiding such collaborations, in order to create an ethical space, enabling partnerships where one knowledge system and worldview does not subsume the other (Nikolakis & Hotte, 2022). Ultimately, what the Kogui case and the supporting literature point to is the need for decolonial models of environmental management and conservation (Artelle et al., 2021).

Conclusion

Decades of protecting biodiversity based on mistaken assumptions and dualistic worldviews has not only led to an outright failure of meeting global conservation objectives, as the ever-escalating loss of biodiversity demonstrates, but also resulted in people becoming ever more detached from so-called nature. In fact, the very need for conservation indicates our lost relationship with nature, and the exclusionary conservation model is just another facet of unsustainable development processes that continue to churn the earth. In removing local custodians from their ancestral territories, such conservation models dissolve intricate precious biocultural associations, resulting in the loss of traditional knowledge, culture, identity, and ultimately also biodiversity. Meanwhile, nature conservation initiatives that are externally driven continue to disregard the lives, knowledge, economy, and culture of local and Indigenous peoples, instead imposing unethical, ineffective, and often neo-colonial strategies onto people and places around the world.

As laid out in the introduction, there are many glaring indications that the predominant conservation model that nation states and large conservation organizations continue to pursue worldwide is failing, and that protecting nature for its own sake alone is not enough. For too long, we have been fooled by, and blind to, the human rights abuses that accompany the neoliberal conservation enterprise deeply rooted in colonialism and oppression. What no one seems to be asking is why large international conservation organizations are uninvitedly taking over the management role that local communities have traditionally held—and in many cases even mastered—while potentially much more damaging interests, in the form of large-scale extractive industries, continue to be widely tolerated and even incentivized by national governments? Might this be due to the inherent mistaken people versus nature divide that continues to govern the global economy?

All this points to an urgent need to support Indigenous peoples and local communities to secure and self-strengthen their own collective systems of tenure, governance and sustainable ways of life is vital in order to achieve not only global biodiversity conservation commitments but also global climate goals, on which the future of humanity as a whole depends (IPBES, 2019). Moreover, the current conservation crisis desperately needs to look to the few remaining positive, working examples of a functioning people–nature relationship in order to re-take a more successful course.

The case of the Kogui highlights at least three key issues that merit attention in this discourse, namely the importance of (a) a nature-based cosmovision, (b) a strong cultural identity related to that cosmovision, and (c) a functioning governance system that is ordered by Natural Law. These stand as beacons to help enlighten our current planetary doomsday and guide humanity back from our strayed and self-destructive path. The Kogui demonstrate that it is possible to live in harmony with the natural environment and to live an egalitarian and respectful life of dignity, care, and nurture. The challenge, then, is not only about how to reframe conservation, but how to re-find and re-connect with our place in, and relationship with, both the material and non-material worlds.

The Kogui remind us that the spiritual world is just as important as the physical world when it comes to knowledge, governance, and our relationship with the natural world. Indeed, all domains—including territory, spirituality, culture, and knowledge—are for the Kogui intricately interwoven and interconnected, and it is futile to consider one as more important than the other. On the contrary, this very interconnectedness—as imbibed in the Law of Nature—is what characterizes the Kogui way, and society and nature—both in the material and immaterial—cannot and should not be treated separately.