- Less than 1% of global climate funding reaches Indigenous peoples and traditional groups, despite their leading roles in environmental conservation, particularly in the Amazon, according to reports.
- In addition to a lack of access to conventional financing options, many traditional initiatives remain isolated by bureaucratic hurdles and struggle to adapt typical funding requirements to their communal dynamics.
- In response to these challenges, several Indigenous and traditional-led funds are seeking solutions. Across Brazil, organizations are working to align financial procedures with the reality of local communities, aiming to ensure the autonomy of their representatives.
- As Brazil hosts the COP30 climate summit, leaders of these Indigenous funds see the event as a window of opportunity to draw the world’s attention and seek new routes for proper investment.
For many Brazilians, the country’s Indigenous peoples are considered the main protectors of nature. This is one of the key findings of a new Greenpeace survey published in October: according to the study, when it comes to caring for the forests, 80% of respondents trust Indigenous groups over any other national institution.
Yet the global flow of money on which environmental protection depends for survival still follows a different dynamic.
Globally, Indigenous peoples and traditional groups — such as quilombolas, Afro-Brazilian inhabitants of communities originally established by runaway enslaved people — receive less than 1% of the funds given to environmental preservation and climate change mitigation projects. The number, which points to a major socioenvironmental paradox, is included in a 2021 report by the Rainforest Foundation Norway (RFN).
According to the NGO, the inability to manage these financial transfers is one of the main reasons why the money doesn’t reach these groups. Without a proper management structure to handle the capital, it says, many Brazilian communities will remain tied to other organizations higher up the financing chain, such as international NGOs and state-led initiatives.
RFN’s analysis shows that this dispersed model has loose ends. One of the biggest issues is related to traditional projects’ dependence on intermediaries: due to high operational costs, the total amount actually reaching local groups ends up being reduced. At the same time, the conventional financing structure includes steps that don’t correspond to the realities of traditional life, such as stringent deadlines and bureaucratic procedures, which limit the autonomy of local representatives.
In response to these gaps, Brazil is witnessing the emergence of Indigenous community funds, which aim to simplify procedures and enable access to money that takes too long to reach historically marginalized groups. These initiatives — such as the Rio Negro Indigenous Fund (FIRN), the Rutî Indigenous Fund, the Timbira Fund, and Podáali — have institutional structures to manage the donated funds and are overseen by community members, especially in Amazonian regions.
Conceived by, and for, traditional groups, these initiatives seek to attract resources from foreign funders to invest in projects centered on socioenvironmental preservation. According to their leaders, the direct-funding model on which they depend is on the rise in Brazil and abroad. Most of the initiatives emerged as a legacy of the COVID-19 pandemic, while others were established more recently, such as the Jaguatá Fund, associated with the Articulation of Indigenous Peoples of Brazil (APIB).
With this year’s U.N. Climate Conference, or COP30, currently taking place in the city of Belém, the “gateway” to the Brazilian Amazon, organizations and authorities see a window of opportunity to seek out more support for the environmental actions managed by traditional peoples. Under a global spotlight for bringing together decision-makers from around the world, the event in Belém is also raising expectations around new projects drawing in large financial figures.
The headline act is the Tropical Forests Forever Facility (TFFF). Devised by the Brazilian government, it aims to reward countries and forest stewards for keeping tropical forests standing. It’s already garnered more than $5.5 billion in pledged funding, according to the Brazilian government.
The challenges, however, are numerous. Torbjørn Gjefsen, senior international forest finance adviser at RFN, said that while “important groundwork has been done,” the “big shift in more direct funding” has yet to come.
“It is important to recognize that it does take some time to develop these kinds of structures and to demonstrate that they work,” he told Mongabay. For now, the volume of funding going to Indigenous peoples and traditional communities remains low: updated data from RFN show that total resources have increased but remain below 1%.
On the frontline, Indigenous funds seek expansion
In light of this, several campaigns were launched in the months leading up to COP30. One of them is a network called “We Are The Answer,” and proposes a series of actions under Indigenous leadership to address environmental challenges. The network cites “direct access to climate finance” as one of its pillars.
“Resources to address the climate crisis should go directly to those on the frontline: peoples of the forest, of the waters, of rural areas, and in the cities,” says the project, created in 2024 by the Coordination of Indigenous Organizations of the Brazilian Amazon (COIAB). “We don’t want colonial bureaucracy or intermediaries who are unfamiliar with the territories. Climate transfers should go directly to the people’s territorial funds.”
FIRN manager Francineide Marinho told Mongabay that, through the funds’ activities, Indigenous groups also seek to be recognized for their knowledge and the tools they use to protect nature. Simultaneously, they aim to counter the negative label of “unproductivity” that often falls upon their role as territory protectors.
“The more these projects move forward, the more people get to know us — putting an end to that ‘inactive territory’ stigma [of Indigenous lands],” she said. “We have always worked and produced on this land, and now it will become even more evident.”
The network includes other initiatives such as the Timbira Fund, which involves the work of the Apinajé, Krahô, Krikati and Gavião Indigenous peoples. Instead of using money from international funders, as is usually the case, the Timbira project is based on long-term compensation: in 2012, Indigenous people were paid for damages caused by the construction of the Estreito Dam, whose direct area of influence includes parts of the municipalities of Estreito, in Maranhão state, and Aguiarnópolis, in Tocantins state. In both cases, the affected area included biodiverse regions.
According to Jonas Gavião, a member of the executive committee of the agency that implements the Timbira Fund, the arrival of new resources can expand the work already being done by the project. “We are at the forefront [of the process] and receive many requests and demands. If we have resources, we can serve our people and our community more frequently and with more attention,” he said.
Gavião cited local actions aimed at combating food insecurity, as well as efforts to promote their culture and protect their territories.
The quest to consolidate financial projects raises a crucial concern among Indigenous peoples: how to structure financial solutions that don’t disregard the special needs of each community. This is one of the priorities of Podáali, the Brazilian Amazon Indigenous Fund, which claims to be one of the first comprehensive Amazonian mechanisms for collecting and redistributing resources.
Rose Meire Apurinã, the fund’s vice director, told Mongabay that creating Indigenous funds means “challenging the logic” of conventional socioenvironmental financing models.
“How can we create procedures that take into account and acknowledge Indigenous peoples’ unique forms of social organization, which the [Brazilian] Constitution guarantees?” she said, adding that the funds’ work “must answer these questions.”
She also pointed to support for Indigenous organizations and collectives that “are not corporations.”
Josimara Baré, coordinator of the Rutî Indigenous Fund, an initiative of the Roraima state Indigenous council, or CIR, goes further: “I’d say that the funds are not just mechanisms or tools. They are a strategy of resistance.”
“[Historically] we only receive [orders], we only accept,” Baré said. “Others speak and act for us. This is changing. We know how to manage our own funds, and we are going to build our own financial mechanisms. We are not reinventing the wheel: we are changing the processes.”
A future of obstacles and expectations
Podáali’s Rose Meire said many Indigenous funds still suffer from a lack of trust on the part of donors — many of whom, she told Mongabay, are not yet used to the new funding models. As a solution, she advocates for more flexible deadlines as well as setting new schedules to improve the process.
“Just as a donor presents their rules, we present ours,” she said.
The list of obstacles is long. The sources Mongabay interviewed said many communities face the challenge of “transmitting knowledge” about the funds to their own communities, especially in isolated areas. Additionally, there are tax-related hurdles, since the operations of some funds challenge traditional accounting standards. Other projects suffer from a lack of experience and management expertise, they said.
Marinho from the FIRN fund said many territories are “far away from large cities,” so when the time comes to implement projects, in keeping with funders’ requirements, several days are wasted on traveling, often by boat, to the nearest urban area. Only then, they say, is it possible to purchase products or services with legal invoices, for example.
Dinaman Tuxá, executive coordinator at APIB, Brazil’s biggest Indigenous rights advocacy group, said he’s upbeat about the emerging new funds. While he acknowledged the obstacles that still lie ahead, he said many changes in the lives of Indigenous communities can already be seen as a result of the activities carried out by these local funds.
He cited progress in the land demarcation processes for some Indigenous territories, facilitated by partial funding from Indigenous initiatives in the absence of state resources. Dinaman also pointed to the rapid response of Indigenous funds to environmental emergencies, such as floods: “In the climate crisis, there are several extreme events. When a crisis arises, the funds provide an immediate response.”
Representatives of the various funds cited in this story said none of them have to date received any financial support from the government, whether at federal, state or municipal level. They added their only contact with government agencies has occurred through dialogues on public policy issues.
Mongabay contacted Brazil’s Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and the federal agency for Indigenous affairs, Funai, for comment. Both expressed support for the funds, and also confirmed that no government funds are being made to these entities.
The ministry said the relationship with Indigenous funds should be strengthened during COP30, starting with the launch of Vítuke, a new Indigenous financial mechanism. Created in partnership with the Brazilian Biodiversity Fund (FUNBIO), the platform aims to “channel resources continuously and appropriately to strengthen Indigenous funds and organizations institutionally,” the ministry told Mongabay.
At Funai, environmental and territorial management director Lúcia Alberta Baré told Mongabay that the government is “a partner of Indigenous peoples and that the initiatives [funds] complement state programs.”
An opportunity to establish new alliances
For many representatives of the Indigenous peoples of the Amazon, hosting the COP30 in the rainforest is an important gesture toward the future. “It’s something highly symbolic: bringing the world to the lungs of the world,” said Rose Meire from Podáali.
She added the event can change perspectives. “The world usually looks at the Amazon from above — they see ‘an immense green’ and think everything is fine. But they can’t see what is behind that green; there’s a lot of smoke, a lot of [land] invasion, a lot of contaminated rivers. And that there are also people who work and fight for their lives.”
Active participation by local communities is widely regarded as one of the main advantages behind the choice of venue for this year’s climate summit.
The so-called COP Village — a collaboration between the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples, COAIB, the government of Pará state, where Belém is located, and the Federal University of Pará (UFPA) — has the capacity to host up to 3,000 Indigenous representatives. Thousands of Indigenous leaders from the nine Amazonian countries are also attending the event.
Marinho from FRIN said she believes the event can “increase the visibility” of projects carried out in the Amazon.
“I hope they will look closely at us, we who are already working on the issue of direct resource allocation. And that they will see that they have a lot to learn from us,” she said. “I hope that, at the very least, they will see us and listen to us. The COP is highly focused on solutions. And we are the solution.”
Baré from the Rutî Indigenous Fund called for tempering expectations. She quoted a speech pointing out several inconsistencies in the climate rhetoric at the event, which is taking place even as Indigenous lands suffer from the advance of mining and the Amazon burns due to prolonged droughts and a fire epidemic.
“COPs are places to talk a lot — and do little,” she told Mongabay.
Representatives of other Indigenous Brazilian funds said the entire system would be strengthened as their projects converge. On the other side of the world, Gjefsen from RFN also pointed to a clearer future for the relationship between Brazilian initiatives and potential donors.
According to him, the new projects have “the potential to shift quite a lot of things.”
“It can shift the power between the donor, the funder, toward Indigenous peoples themselves, to make sure that they can take more decision-making over how and what to fund,” Gjefsen said.
Baré acknowledged that a “leap of faith” is necessary when discussing new ways of funding projects.
“We can only make big changes if we are open to big risks,” she said. “We must take risks. We can’t keep doing the same old thing.”
Banner image: A community garden managed by Indigenous people from the Rutî Indigenous Fund. Image courtesy of Rutî Indigenous Fund.
The story was first published here in Portuguese on Nov. 17, 2025.
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