UNDRIP

The Qalipu First Nation Band Act, Bill C-25 (2012), and associated legislation has displaced Indigenous Peoples responsible for Mi'kmaq rights movement in Newfoundland by centralizing community membership away from the traditional communities. Displacement has occurred by neglecting traditional kinship connections in favour of a corporate "point system" that does not accurately reflect community composition.

~Open to collaborative efforts from community members & other Indigenous peoples to add new information or criticism~

UNDRIP is non-binding, and Canadian governments - provincial and federal - understand this, and actively exploit Indigenous peoples, their communities and their rights through their extractivist activities. The hypocritical adoption of UNDRIP by British Columbia, while simultaneously criminalizing and oppressing Wet'suwet'en (and allied) land/water defenders is an example which demonstrates how UNDRIP is a guise to Western settler colonial, imperialist states.

Historically, Indigenous women have been the target of violence at an alarming rate compared to the non-Indigenous population. This work explores how Indigenous women have used the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) to call for the end of this abuse. The United States and Canada are two North American Federal governments with a strong presence of Indigenous Peoples. Even though Canada and the United States have signed UNDRIP, in North America as many as four in five Indigenous women experience violence in their lifetime. This work looks at how and why there is still such a significant rate of violence against Indigenous women in the U.S. and Canada. In addition, this article surveys the current extent of Indigenous women's participation in the policymaking process. It then explores what changes in law and policy should flow from Indigenous women's activism and in what ways Indigenous women can and should become more involved in the decision-making process. This work also aims to reflect on how the law and policies in the U.S., in Canada and at an international level could more efficiently address the issue. Indigenous women have historically been absent from the decision-making process and even when they are given a voice and their rights are emphasized , for instance with UNDRIP, countries are not complying with their responsibilities on the matter. Consequently, Indigenous women are de facto denied the possibility to participate in the debate, and their claims are left unheard. This article concludes that they should be empowered to advocate for enhanced accountability of the individual countries and the international community alike. In fact, increased participation of Indigenous women in the decision-making process increases the opportunity for Indigenous voices to be heard, in a quest to fight the widespread issue 93 93

This study seeks to understand what aspects of Crown consultation with indigenous groups influence the meaningfulness of the British Columbia (BC) Environmental Assessment (EA) process through the perspectives of indigenous groups, and whether the BC EA Office (BCEAO) has adapted and made improvements regarding the issues raised by indigenous groups. Ten issue types are analyzed using content analysis on 250 submissions (e.g. emails, reports, and tracking tables) to determine whether there has been improvement through reforms in the Environmental Assessment Act, 2018. Additionally, statistical analyses (e.g. multiple linear and logit regression) are employed to determine whether (a) the level of involvement of the Crown (via the BCEAO) in EA and (b) expanding the scope of EA to include cumulative effects (i.e. of multiple projects over time and space) increases the meaningfulness of consultation. Findings show that there has been no institutional adaptation to address any of the issue types in the content analysis, beyond semantics and empty provisions. Thus, this study asserts that the Crown is not responsive to the issues decreasing meaningfulness. The statistical analyses find that increasing the assessment scope to include cumulative effects increases the overall meaningfulness of consultation by making the process more holistic, reflecting certain aspects of indigenous worldviews. No relationship is found between the level of Crown involvement in EA and the overall meaningfulness of consultation; however, increased Crown involvement is associated with a decrease in the use of overly technical language in decision-making materials and documents.

While it is increasingly recognised as a core element of the emerging international Indigenous rights regime, the implementation of the principle of free, prior and informed consent (fpic) remains contested. As the comparative literature shows, if and how fpic is implemented depend both on the institutional context and on the agency of actors involved. Faced with deep power asymmetries and strong institutional resistance to their understanding of fpic as a decision-making right, a number of Indigenous
groups in Canada have taken advantage of the uncertain legal context
to unilaterally operationalise fpic through the development of their own decision-making mechanisms. Building on two case studies, a mining policy adopted by the Cree Nation of James Bay and a community-driven impact assessment process established by the Squamish Nation, this article argues Indigenous-driven mechanisms can be powerful instruments to shape how fpic is defined and translated in practice.

Starting in April 2016, thousands of people, led by Standing Rock Sioux Tribal members, gathered at camps to stop the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL)—creating the #NoDAPL movement. I am concerned with how critics of #NoDAPL often focus on defending the pipeline’s safety precautions or the many attempts the Army Corps of Engineers made at consulting the Tribe. Yet critics rarely engage what LaDonna Brave Bull Allard calls “the larger story.” To me, as an Indigenous supporter of #NoDAPL, one thread of the larger story concerns how DAPL is an injustice against the Tribe. The type of injustice is one that many other Indigenous peoples can identify with—U.S. settler colonialism. I seek to show how there are many layers to the settler colonial injustice behind DAPL that will take me, by the end of this essay, from U.S. disrespect of treaty promises in the 19th century to environmental sustainability and climate change in the 21st century.  Updated and republished (2019) in Nature of Hope: Grassroots Organizing, Environmental Justice, and Social Change. Edited by C. Miller and J. Crane. University of Colorado Press, pgs. 320-337. Originally published in Whyte, K.P. 2017. The Dakota Access Pipeline, Environmental Injustice, and U.S. Colonialism. RED INK: An International Journal of Indigenous Literature, Arts, & Humanities: 19 (1): 154-169.

While international instruments and a few state governments endorse the "free, prior and informed consent" of Indigenous peoples in decision-making about the water in their traditional territories, most state water governance regimes do not recognize Indigenous water rights and responsibilities. Applying a political ecology lens to the settler colonialism of water governance exposes the continued depoliticizing personality of natural resources decision-making and reveals water as an abstract, static resource in law and governance processes. Most plainly, these decision-making processes inadequately consider environmental flows or cumulative effects and are at odds with both Indigenous governance and social-ecological approaches to watershed management. Using the example of groundwater licensing in British Columbia, Canada as reinforcing colonialism in water governance, this article examines how First Nations are asserting Indigenous rights in response to natural resource decision-making. Both within and outside of colonial governance processes they are establishing administrative and governance structures that express their water laws and jurisdiction. These structures include the Syilx, Nadleh Wut'en and Stellat'en creating standards for water, the Tsleil-Waututh and Stk'emlúpsemc te Secwépemc community assessments of proposed pipeline and mining facilities, and the First Nations of the Nicola Valley planning process based on their own legal traditions. Where provincial and federal environmental governance has failed, Indigenous communities are repoliticizing colonial decision-making processes to shift jurisdiction towards Indigenous processes that institutionalize responsibilities for and relationships with water.

Since its emergence in the 17th Century, and up until and beyond World War II, international law defined a “people” as the aggregate of the population of a state. Further, the simultaneously evolving human rights system came to focus on the rights of the individual, vis-à-vis the state. This state-individual dichotomy remained essentially unchallenged into the 1970s, resulting in international law having little room for Indigenous Peoples and their collective rights. But the last 25 years or so have seen a paradigm shift in international law, predominantly occurring within the Indigenous Peoples‟ rights discourse. When the UN started to seriously address indigenous issues in the late 1970s, international law‟s traditional definition of a “people” in terms of citizenship was quickly contested. The UN and its member states soon acknowledged that Indigenous Peoples should be allowed to maintain, reinforce and develop the distinct societal structures they had managed to preserve despite colonisation. International law on Indigenous Peoples hence came to hold that the people as such could be bearer of rights, thereby legally and conceptually distinguishing Indigenous Peoples from minorities. The World Community has since then, gradually clarified what these rights encompass in more detail, and in the process also specifying where on the world‟s political and legal map, Indigenous Peoples belong. In particular, the adoption of United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (DECRIPS) by the UN General Assembly in 2007, has helped to clarify the content and scope of several Indigenous rights relevant to the International Regime on Access and Benefit Sharing. The DECRIPS confirmed that Indigenous Peoples –do constitute “peoples” – and thus as “peoples” have the right to self-determination. Importantly, the right to self-determination that Indigenous Peoples enjoy is not a sui generis right but the general right to self-determination, applicable to all peoples. The right to self-determination encompasses a right of Indigenous Peoples to autonomy in their internal affairs, which in turn envelopes the right to determine over their genetic resources (GR) and traditional knowledge, innovations and practices (TK). The International Regime (IR) must be mindful of Indigenous Peoples‟ status as legal subjects under international law, but need not define who constitute an Indigenous People. The IR must rely on a general understanding until the relevant UN human rights forum has agreed on a formal definition.
Indigenous Peoples‟ status as legal subjects under international law has not only resulted in them enjoying the overarching right to self-determination. Recent developments in international law have also affirmed that Indigenous Peoples have rights specifically to GR and TK. The right to benefit from one‟s creativity has evolved from being merely an individual right to embrace also the rights of Indigenous Peoples as collectives, pursuant to which Indigenous Peoples have the right to own and control TK they have created. They also have right to redress for TK already taken without their free, prior and informed consent (FPIC). In the same vein, both the general right to property, understood in the light of the right to non-discrimination, and international legal sources particularly addressing Indigenous rights, confirm that Indigenous Peoples have the right to own and control natural resources on their territory. Nothing in international law indicates that the general right to natural resources should not include GR. Notably, also in such instances when the state retains ownership rights to GR, the Indigenous People must still be regarded as having rights to the GR, inasmuch as the Indigenous People has traditionally used the GR. However, when a GR originates from an Indigenous People‟s territory, but the people have not actively used the GR, the Indigenous People might only have a right to share in the profits from the utilization of the GR. Recognition of Indigenous Peoples‟ rights to TK and GR must also lead to acknowledgement of Indigenous Peoples‟ customary laws pertaining to GR and TK. This follows from international law, but also from the very nature of TK. TK protection must recognize TK‟s constantly evolving character within a defined collective, a people. Hence, TK protection cannot be confined to a particular moment in time and must not regulate in detail regarding who within a particular group may hold what rights to what aspects of TK. That would freeze the TK in time and result in the TK being absorbed into domestic legislation rather than being governed by the cultural and legal context from which it springs. In conclusion, Indigenous Peoples‟ rights to GR, TK and customary laws do not conflict with the principle of states‟ sovereign rights over natural resources. Indigenous Peoples‟ rights can, and should, be recognized side-by-side with states‟ sovereign rights.

Tanzania is estimated to have a total of 125-130 ethnic groups, falling mainly into the four categories of Bantu, Cushite, Ni- lo-Hamite and San. While there may be more ethnic groups that identify themselves as Indigenous Peoples, four groups have been organising themselves and their struggles around the concept and movement of Indigenous Peoples. The four groups are the hunter-gatherer Akie and Hadzabe, and the pastoralist Barabaig and Maasai. Although accurate figures are hard to determine, since ethnic groups are not included in the population census, population estimates put the Maasai in Tanzania at 430,000, the Datoga group to which the Barabaig belongs at 87,978, the Hadzabe at 1,0002 and the Akie at 5,268. While the livelihoods of these groups are diverse, they all share a strong attachment to the land, distinct identities, vulnerability and marginalisation. They also experience similar problems in relation to land tenure insecurity, poverty and inadequate political representation.
Tanzania voted in favour of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007 but does not recognise the existence of any Indigenous Peoples in the country and there is no specific national policy or legislation on Indigenous Peoples per se. On the contrary, a number of policies, strategies and programmes that do not reflect the interests of the Indigenous Peoples in terms of access to land and natural resources, basic social services and justice are continuously being developed, resulting in a deteriorating and increasingly hostile political environment for both pastoralists and hunter-gatherers.

The course examines the concept of Indigenous water justice whereby students explore the development and implementation of water policies in relation to major themes and debates associated with Indigenous water crises. Through facilitated discussions, problem based learning, readings, film, and guest presentations students gain a deeper understanding of water injustices facing Indigenous Peoples. The course places special attention on international water law, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, traditional knowledge, and cultural values of water.

This paper considers the UNDRIP and the project of implementation in light of the ideas of legal and political constitutionalism. Its aims are to link criticisms of the UNDRIP with these broader strands of theoretical reflection on constitutional politics so as to achieve a clearer understanding about what precisely these objections are reaching at; and to support the alternative offered by political constitutionalism for thinking about Indigenous self-determination. I argue that criticisms of the UNDRIP make the most sense when the UNDRIP and the project of implementation are associated with a legal constitutionalist discourse, which holds essential to promulgate certain legal rights that structure, limit and direct the conduct of political affairs. The central issue with this constitutional discourse is that it reduces political agency to its legal form, thus undermining Indigenous self-determination. In contrast, I argue that the political constitutionalist discourse allows us, as the name of the discourse suggests, to politicize our understanding of Indigenous self-determination and thus to keep in mind the centrality of political conduct to its enactment and safeguarding.

The principle of Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) has become increasingly important in Indigenous peoples’ rights discourse. But continuing debates over the meaning of consent show the need for further clarification. In the article’s first section, I give a brief description of consent’s ‘standard grammar’ as developed in other areas of Western legal and ethical discourse to clarify what those who use the language of consent within that tradition commit themselves to, if they are to do so correctly. I also highlight the features that explain why consent has the potential to diminish coercion in relations of deep asymmetry. I argue that this potential is not related to the existence of an ‘absolute’ veto, but to the specific way in which consent structures the interactions between the parties. In the second section, I turn to the Canadian context and the duty to consult developed by the Supreme Court. I make two main arguments: firstly, I show that that language is importantly different from consent. Secondly, I argue that though the Court in Tsilqoth’in Nation breaks new ground in using consent in a way that is closer to the standard grammar, the significance of this move remains limited. In the third section, I turn towards the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples to assess whether it presents a better framework for the fulfillment of consent’s promise. I argue that not only is it possible to interpret the Declaration as formulating a conception of consent that follows broadly the standard grammar, but that this reading best fits the Declaration’s basic purposes. However, to develop a functional conception of FPIC, we need to face a challenge for which the grammar of consent has little answer: the often contested character of Indigenous rights. I conclude by sketching three possible responses to that challenge.

Talk delivered to British Columbia Legislative Interns, on June 22, 2017. Broad overview of the history of the Canadian state's relationship with Indigenous people of Turtle Island, highlighting the question of settler responsibility to working towards decolonization.

This paper examines the relationship between Australia's international and domestic legal obligations to Indigenous peoples with respect to the 2007 Northern Territory 'Intervention', and subsequent 2012 'Stronger Futures' legislation.

Policies enacted under both sets of legislation are in place until 2022. As such, Indigenous communities are directly affected by Australia’s relationship with international law, in particular the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

'Stronger  Futures, Special Measures and Special Rapporteurs' explores these relationships, their subsequent effects on Indigenous communities in the Northern Territory, and ultimately, their right to self-determination.

The Ontario government currently is considering the repeal of the Far North Act, 2010 (the “FNA”).  The FNA currently provides a legal basis, at least in theory, to institute meaningful, broad-scale land-use planning for Ontario’s Northern Boreal Forest before any new major development, including ensuring full participation by Indigenous communities. 
Land use planning must protect the ecological integrity of Ontario’s Northern Boreal Forest and help to provide a sustainable future for Indigenous and northern communities.

In 1997, the Ontario government undertook work with dozens of affected communities and stakeholders, including Indigenous peoples, on its Ontario’s Living Legacy (OLL) strategy for the Area of the Undertaking (AOU) in the southern portion of the boreal forest. Released in 1999 the OLL strategy was an incomplete attempt to reconcile the interests of environmental protection, industry and other land uses and highlighted the limitations of the Public Lands Act.

After the repeal of the FNA, it seems plausible there will be no systematic legal framework for comprehensive land use planning process for northern Ontario.  This part of the province is a unique and fragile environment.  This brief examines the need for a higher level of planning to protect this special environment from several viewpoints, including forest management, Indigenous rights and community land use planning for the north.  Ontario’s approach to mining in the province, including the mineral development strategies and policies and the Mining Act, are also reviewed. 

Based on the findings of this review, our position is that a new planning approach is needed for the north to address the realities of the 21st century. Unlike southern Ontario, where detailed legislation, such as the Planning Act, provides clear planning guidance for the organized municipalities and privately owned lands of the south, there is no equivalent land use planning system for the mostly Crown-owned lands and unorganized territories of the north

In 2007, the United Nations General Assembly approved the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP).    As a declaration, it is not binding in the manner of a conventional treaty or convention. In any case, in Canada treaties require implementation by legislation to be brought into force as domestic law.  However, some UN declarations – the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, for example – have become a persuasive and pervasive standard. As scholars on international law often observe, “soft law” often has a tendency to become “hard law” over time. 

A key feature of the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples is the concept of free, prior and informed consent.  For example, Article 32 provides:
"States shall consult and cooperate in good faith with the Indigenous peoples concerned through their own representative institutions in order to obtain their free and informed consent prior to the approval of any project affecting their lands or territories and other resources, particularly in connection with the development, utilization or exploitation of mineral, water or other resources."
 
Free, prior and informed consent is not a formally defined term in the Declaration. However, it can reasonably be understood – and certainly is understood by First Nations and Métis (collectively, “Indigenous”) leaders – to include the following elements: consent that is given by fully informed Indigenous peoples affected; without coercion, intimidation or manipulation; before activities affecting them begin; and based on their own decision making processes.

The complex interplay between aboriginal interests to resource development in Ontario will continue to be affected by statutory and regulatory change, case law developments and evolving international standards even if the Far North Act is repealed. We urge that key UNDRIP principles be addressed and incorporated into the initial design of the revised FNA land use planning and resource disposition (LUPARD) program. If not, experience suggests that these issues will very likely be raised on a project-by-project basis by affected Indigenous peoples, resulting in delay and uncertainty. In addition, if these key principles are not ultimately addressed sufficiently, litigation may result, reducing (not creating) business certainty.

While the Crown is ultimately responsible for the adequacy of the aboriginal consultation in respect of any project, it is the project proponent that usually bears the practical consequences of any allegations of inadequate consultation.  The consequences, of course, are project delay and uncertainty created by an aboriginal group contesting the issuance of a specific approval on the basis of inadequate consultation.

We thank you for considering this submission and the important matters it identifies. We reiterate that it is essential that the decision-making with respect to Ontario’s Far North occurs in an efficient and effective manner and appropriately furthers all the relevant interests.

Using a “Fourth World perspective,” the chapter also analyses how the FPIC
norm as adopted and implemented in the Philippines has been framed within the legal regime of state sovereignty over natural resources. Finally, it argues that there is a legal basis to allow for the substantial participation of indigenous peoples in international law-making and that allowing for such participation would provide valuable parallel mechanisms to correct the distinct disadvantage that characterizes the status of indigenous peoples not only in the domestic sphere, but in the international
legal system as well. The chapter begins in Sect. 2 by laying down its theoretical framework—a Fourth World perspective of international law. Section 3 explores the privileged status of states in international law, as illustrated by the concepts of permanent sovereignty over international law, the Regalian Doctrine, and FPIC itself as an international legal norm. Section 4 explores how FPIC, as conceptualized and operationalized in the Philippines, seems to merely perpetuate the unequal power relations between states and indigenous peoples in international law and ends with a Fourth World critique of FPIC. Section 5 explores indigenous sovereignty
as a basis for participation in international law-making and the potential for
such participation as an alternative means of rights-representation for indigenous
peoples.

The Indigenous Peoples of Ethiopia make up a significant proportion
of the country’s estimated population of 110 million.
Around 15% are pastoralists and sedentary farmers who live
across the country but particularly in the Ethiopian lowlands,
which constitute some 61% of the country’s total landmass.
There are also several hunter-gatherer communities, including
the forest-dwelling Majang (Majengir) and Anuak peoples, who
live in the Gambella region.
Ethiopia is believed to have the largest livestock population
in Africa, a significant number of which are in the hands
of pastoralist communities living on land that, in recent years,
has been under high demand from foreign investors. Such
“land grabbing” has only emphasized the already tenuous political
and economic situation of Indigenous Peoples in Ethiopia.
Indigenous Peoples’ access to healthcare provision and to
primary and secondary education remains highly inadequate.
According to the 1995 Ethiopian Constitution, land is
owned by the State and the peoples of Ethiopia and cannot be
sold and exchanged. The Constitution guarantees the rights
of pastoralists to free land for grazing and cultivation as well
as the right not to be displaced from their own lands. The implementation
of these constitutional provisions is to be determined
by law. There is no national legislation protecting Indigenous
Peoples, and Ethiopia has neither ratified ILO Convention
169 nor was it present during the voting on the UN Declaration
on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). Political uncertainty
and natural calamities in Ethiopia in recent years have
compounded the problems that Indigenous Peoples face there.

Indigenous Peoples in Uganda include former hunter-gatherer
communities, such as the Benet and the Batwa. They also include
minority groups such as the Ik and the Karamojong and
Basongora pastoralists who are not recognized specifically as
Indigenous Peoples by the government.
The Benet, who number slightly over 8,500, live in the
north-eastern part of Uganda. The 6,700 or so Batwa live primarily
in the south-western region and were dispossessed of
their ancestral land when Bwindi and Mgahinga forests were
gazetted as national parks in 1991.1 The Ik number some 13,939
and live on the edge of the Karamoja/Turkana region along the
Uganda/Kenya border. The Karamojong people – whose economy
is traditionally based on livestock – live in the north-east of
the country (mainly drylands) and had an estimated population
of 1,094,1002 according to a mid-2018 estimate by the Uganda
Bureau of Statistics. The Basongora number 15,897 and are a
cattle-herding community living in the lowlands adjacent to Mt.
Rwenzori in Western Uganda.
All these communities have a common experience of
state-induced landlessness and historical injustices caused
by the creation of conservation areas in Uganda. They have experienced
various human rights violations, including continued
forced evictions and/or exclusions from ancestral lands without
community consultation, consent or adequate (or any) compensation.
Other violations include violence and destruction of
homes and property, including livestock; denial of their means
of subsistence and of their cultural and religious life through
their exclusion from ancestral lands and natural resources. All
these violations have resulted in their continued impoverishment,
social and political exploitation and marginalization.
The 1995 Constitution offers no express protection for Indigenous
Peoples but Article 32 places a mandatory duty on
the state to take affirmative action in favour of groups that have
been historically disadvantaged and discriminated against. This
provision, which was initially designed and envisaged to deal
with the historical disadvantages of children, people with disabilities and women, is the basic legal source of affirmative action
in favour of Indigenous Peoples in Uganda.3 The Land Act of 1998
and the National Environment Statute of 1995 protect customary
interests in land and traditional uses of forests. However, these
laws also authorize the government to exclude human activities
in any forest area by declaring it a protected area, thus nullifying
the customary land rights of Indigenous Peoples.4
Uganda has never ratified ILO Convention No. 169, which
guarantees the rights of Indigenous and tribal peoples in independent
states and it was absent in the voting on the UN Declaration
on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007.

The Amazigh form the Indigenous population of Libya. They are
estimated to number some one million people, or more than
16% of the country’s total population.
They live in various areas of Libya in the north, east and
south of the country albeit without any geographical continuity.
To the west of Tripoli, on the Mediterranean coast, they live
in the town of At-Wilul (Zwara) and in the Adrar Infussen (Nefoussa)
mountains, on the border with Tunisia; in the southeast,
on the border with Egypt, they live in the oases of Awjla,
Jalu and Jakhra; in the south, the Fezzan region is traditionally
Kel-Tamasheq (Tuareg) territory, including the areas of Murzuq,
Sebha, Ubari, Ghat and Ghadamès. Libya’s Kel-Tamasheq are
naturally linked to other Kel-Tamasheq communities living
across the borders with Niger and Algeria. Tripoli is also home
to a significant Amazigh community.
In addition to Arab and Amazigh communities, there is
an ethnic minority in Libya known as the “Toubou”, comprising
some 50,000 individuals. They are originally from the Tibesti
plateau in Chad and they live along the Libya/Chad border. They
live a nomadic way of life and practise pastoralism across an
area that extends from northern Niger to the Sudan.
During the time of Gaddafi (1969-2011), Libya was declared
an exclusively “Arab and Muslim” country. The 1969 Constitutional
Proclamation states in its first article that “Libya is an
Arab republic (…), the Libyan people are a part of the Arab nation
and its aim is total Arab unity. The country’s name is the Arab
Republic of Libya”. Article Two adds that “Islam is the state religion
and Arabic its official language”. Government policy since
then has always relentlessly persecuted anyone who does not
recognise Libya’s “Arab-Islamic identity”.
Following the 2011 “revolution”, a “Provisional Constitutional
Council” submitted a draft new Constitution in 2017 that
in no way changed the country’s identitary foundations. Article
Two still provides that “Libya forms part of the Arab nation” and
that “Arabic is the state language”. Article Six notes that “Islam
is the state religion and Sharia the source of its law”. Other discriminatory articles then follow prohibiting a non-Muslim Libyan
from standing for election to the Chamber of Representatives
(Article 69) or as President of the Republic (Article 101) and
stating that justice shall be passed down “in the name of Allah”
(Article 189). These articles are clearly aimed at imposing an Islamic
republic, to the detriment of the diversity of cultures and
beliefs in Libya. Due to Amazigh and Toubou opposition, however,
and also because of the war, this draft constitution has not
yet been adopted.
Libya voted in favour of the UN Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples.

Women’s participation in the Zapatista Revolutionary Movement improved women’s potential for gender justice as outlined in the 1994 Declaration of Women’s Rights; however, Zapatismo has struggled to implement and sustain a clear indigenous feminist agenda. In this essay, I argue that because The Indigenous Congress of Mexico does not recognize repressive indigenous patriarchal structures and solely blames capitalism and neoliberalism for persistent gendered inequity, women continue to suffer systematic gendered violence and oppression at the hands of their indigenous fathers.

This article examines the extent to which a recent law reform initiative in New South Wales (NSW), Australia-the draft Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Bill 2018 (NSW)-advances the general principles outlined in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). The examination reveals some improvements on the current legal framework and some concerning proposals that distance the NSW government from the UNDRIP principles. Key concerns include a proposed transfer of administrative responsibility to Aboriginal bodies with no corresponding guarantee of funding; the continued vesting of key decision-making powers in government; inept provisions for the protection of secret knowledge; and lower penalties for harming cultural heritage than for related offences in existing environmental and planning legislation. Given the bill's weaknesses, the article explores pragmatic alternatives to better advance the UNDRIP principles.

As of 2017, the Indigenous Peoples of Malaysia were estimated
to account for around 13.8% of the 31,660,700 million national
population. They are collectively known as Orang Asal. The
Orang Asli are the Indigenous Peoples of Peninsular Malaysia.
The 18 Orang Asli subgroups within the Negrito (Semang), Senoi
and Aboriginal-Malay groups account for 0.7% of the population
of Peninsular Malaysia (31,950,000). In Sarawak, the
Indigenous Peoples are collectively known as natives (Dayak
and/or Orang Ulu). They include the Iban, Bidayuh, Kenyah,
Kayan, Kedayan, Lunbawang, Punan, Bisayah, Kelabit, Berawan,
Kejaman, Ukit, Sekapan, Melanau and Penan. They constitute
around 1,932,600 or 70.5% of Sarawak’s population of 2,707,600
people. In Sabah, the 39 different Indigenous ethnic groups are
known as natives or Anak Negeri and make up some 2,233,100
or 58.6% of Sabah’s population of 3,813,200. The main groups
are the Dusun, Murut, Paitan and Bajau groups. While the Malays
are also Indigenous to Malaysia, they are not categorised
as Indigenous Peoples because they constitute the majority
and are politically, economically and socially dominant.
In Sarawak and Sabah, laws introduced by the British during
their colonial rule recognising the customary land rights and
customary law of the Indigenous Peoples are still in place. However,
they are not properly implemented, and are even outright
ignored by the government, which gives priority to large-scale
resource extraction and the plantations of private companies
and state agencies over the rights and interests of the Indigenous
communities. In Peninsular Malaysia, while there is a clear
lack of reference to Orang Asli customary land rights in the National
Land Code, Orang Asli customary tenure is recognised
under common law. The principal act that governs Orang Asli
administration, including occupation of the land, is the Aboriginal
Peoples Act 1954.
Malaysia has adopted the United Nations Declaration on
the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and endorsed the
Outcome Document of the World Conference on Indigenous
Peoples but has not ratified ILO Convention 169.

Indonesia has a population of approximately 260 million. According
to the Central Bureau of Statistics, the government
recognizes 1,331 ethnic groups.1 The Ministry of Social Affairs
identifies some Indigenous communities as komunitas adat
terkecil (KAT), or geographically-isolated Indigenous communities.
However, many more peoples self-identify as or are considered
by others to be Indigenous. Recent government acts
and decrees use the term: Masyarakat Adat to refer to Indigenous
Peoples. The national Indigenous Peoples’ organization,
Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Nusantara (AMAN), estimates that the
total population of Indigenous Peoples in Indonesia is between
50 and 70 million.
The third amendment to the Indonesian Constitution recognizes
Indigenous Peoples’ rights in articles 18 B-2 and 28 I-3.
In more recent legislation, there is implicit recognition of some
rights of Indigenous Peoples, where they are referred to as:
Masyarakat Adat or Masyarakat Hukum Adat, including Act No.
5/1960 on Basic Agrarian Regulation, Act No. 39/1999 on Human
Rights, and MPR Decree No. X/2001 on Agrarian Reform.
Act No. 27/2007 on the Management of Coastal Areas and
Small Islands and Act No. 32/2010 on the Environment clearly
use the term: Masyarakat Adat and use the working definition
of AMAN. The Constitutional Court affirmed the constitutional
rights of Indigenous Peoples to their land and territories in May
2013, including their collective rights to customary forests.
While Indonesia is a signatory to the United Nations Declaration
on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), government
officials argue that the concept of Indigenous Peoples is
not applicable as almost all Indonesians (with the exception
of the ethnic Chinese) are Indigenous and thus entitled to the
same rights. The government has consequently rejected calls
for specific needs from groups self-identifying as Indigenous.
West Papua covers the western part of the island of New
Guinea and comprises the two Indonesian provinces of Papua
and West Papua (Papua Barat). It has a population of 4.378 million
people split across two provinces, with 3.5 million in Papua province and 878,000 in West Papua province. More than 50%
of the population in both provinces are migrants who came
from other parts of Indonesia through the government-sponsored
transmigration program between the 1970s and early
2000s.
West Papua has the most diverse cultures and languages
in Indonesia. While Bahasa Indonesia is the official language
spoken now, there are more than 250 tribal languages spoken
by Indigenous Papuans today. West Papua is divided into seven
distinct customary territories: Mamberamo Tabi (Mamta),
Saireri, Domberai and Bomberai, Mee Pago, La Pago and Ha
Anim.
Since Indonesia took control over the region from the
Netherlands in 1969, West Papuans have continued to seek
independence from Indonesia. In 2001, the Indonesian government
issued a Special Autonomy Law for Papua formerly called
Irian Jaya, after which the government forcibly divided the Indonesia-
controlled part of the island into Papua and West Papua
provinces.

The Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) is a specialized
agency of the United Nations that leads international efforts to
defeat hunger and malnutrition. FAO was founded in 1945, and
its primary goal is to achieve food security for all making sure
that people have regular access to enough high-quality food to
lead active and healthy lives. With over 194 Members, FAO has
offices in over 130 countries worldwide.
FAO recognizes Indigenous Peoples as key allies, not only
as technical assistance recipients but primarily as equal partners,
and as fundamental stakeholders to achieve the Sustainable
Development Goals (SDGs).
Over time, FAO’s work with Indigenous Peoples has evolved
to become more progressive and inclusive. For instance, in
2004, the Voluntary Right to Food Guidelines endorsed by the
World Committee on Food Security emphasized the importance
for Indigenous Peoples to have access to their lands and
resources to guarantee their right to food.
In 2009, FAO released its first publication dedicated to
analyzing Indigenous Peoples’ food systems, focused on the
many dimensions of culture, diversity and environment for nutrition
and health. One year later, in aligning the organization’s
work with the 2007 UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples, FAO called a caucus of Indigenous leaders from the
seven socio-cultural regions of the world to draft the FAO Policy
on Indigenous and Tribal Peoples. Today, this policy continues
to guide FAO’s work with Indigenous Peoples.

Ahead of the adoption of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples this article highlights its significance related to the recognition of the traditional knowledge of Indigenous Peoples and advocacy toward the mitigation of Climate Change.

In this time of unprecedented ecosystem collapse and species loss, the relevance of Indigenous environmental knowledge has gained increasing recognition. Over at least the last two decades, there have been increasing efforts from international agencies such as the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, the United Nations Environment Programme, the World Economic Forum, the World Bank, and others to integrate Indigenous traditional ecological knowledge in mitigating and adapting to, the effects of climate change on ecosystems and biodiversity.What is remarkable about this is the degree to which traditional environmental knowledge has survived the 500-year onslaught on its relevance and veracity by the adherents of developmentalist ideologies and market capitalism. Ironically, however, this apparent good-news story is countered by a legacy of dispossession of land, language, and cultural heritage that in the 21st century remains a critical site of struggle. At the heart of this struggle is the apparatus of settler colonialism on one hand, and Indigenous sovereignty, including recognised rights to cul- tural heritage, traditional lands, languages, and customs, on the other. Straddling these two positions is the politico/economics of market capitalism and the commodification of the lifeworld in the name of ever-expanding growth, innovation, and development.
Alongside calls for transition from fossil fuel energy sources, renewed acts of resistance from Indigenous communities may be read as a response to the increase in damaging fossil fuel and hydro development, the last gasps, perhaps, of an industry in crisis.Although often seen as quite distinct, notions of resistance and deep resilience are connected (Brown, 2015). As Penehira et al. (2014), citing Cohen (2001: 147), remark, ‘the term resilience, when applied to indigenous peoples has a long history that draws on multiple cultural strands’.
The Indigenous reality is one of resilience, refusal to disappear; it is a reflection of the strength and beauty of peoples who have lived here since humans existed on this land, and will continue to do so, and that, furthermore, is a testimony to the refusal of indigenous peoples to accept assimilation or integration as an acceptable strategy for their ongoing survival.
In this contribution, tensions between Indigenous sovereignty and settler colonialism contextualise Indigenous resilience in the face of systems collapse and colonialism’s constantly evolving strategies of capture and incorporation.The chapter begins with a discussion of two modes of colonialisation: imperialist and settler colonialism, twinning development and market capitalism with the ratification of states and the re-casting of sovereign Indigenous nations as populations in the international world order. Of par- ticular importance is the relationship between ideologies of development and the
violence of settler colonialism.This section is followed by an overview of Indigenous modes and strategies of resistance and resilience and the demands for recognition of Indigenous rights within international law. Here the focus is on the struggle for recogni- tion of Indigenous rights, including the right to full, free, prior, and informed consent to any form of development on their traditional lands, and the evolving responses of settler states.As a strategy of extinguishment, settler colonialism’s impact is not only historical; its servitude to the imperatives of market capitalism and the engulfing of the lifeworld marks the present moment with a long footprint into the future. Indigenous peoples’ resilience in the face of shape-shifting strategies by states (and industry) may be seen as a bulwark against a dimming future.The final section points towards possibilities for hope in the reframing of governance centred on the well-being of human and non-human species and interrelationships.

Como en otras partes del norte de África, los Amazigh son la población
indígena de Túnez. No existen estadísticas oficiales que
precisen su número exacto en el país, pero asociaciones Amazigh
estiman que hay alrededor de 1 millón de hablantes de tamazight
(el idioma amazigh). Esta cifra supone aproximadamente el 10% de
la población total. Túnez es el país donde los Amazigh han sufrido
en mayor medida una arabización forzada, lo que explica la baja
proporción de hablantes de tamazight en el país. No obstante, aunque
muchos tunecinos ya no hablan tamazight se consideran más
Amazigh que árabes.
Los Amazigh de Túnez se encuentran diseminados por todas
las regiones que componen el país, desde Azemour y Sejnane en
el norte a Tittawin (Tataouine) en el sur, pasando por El-Kef, Thala,
Siliana, Gafsa, Gabès, Djerba y Tozeur. Como sucede en el resto del
Norte de África, muchos de los Amazigh de Túnez han abandonado
sus montañas y desiertos para buscar trabajo en las ciudades y en
el extranjero. Por consiguiente, un gran número de Amazigh vive en
los diferentes barrios de la capital, especialmente en la parte antigua
(Medina), trabajando principalmente en oficios cualificados y
pequeños comercios. La población indígena Amazigh se distingue
no solo por su idioma (tamazight) sino también por su cultura (indumentaria
tradicional, música, gastronomía, religión ibadí practicada
por los Amazigh de Djerba).
Desde la “revolución” de 2011, numerosas asociaciones culturales
Amazigh han emergido con el objetivo de lograr el reconocimiento
y uso del idioma y la cultura amazigh. Sin embargo, el Estado
tunecino no reconoce la existencia de la población Amazigh
del país. El Parlamento adoptó una nueva Constitución en 2014 que
ensombrece totalmente las dimensiones Amazigh (históricas, culturales
y lingüísticas) del país. En sus considerandos, el texto hace
referencia a las fuentes de “identidad árabe y musulmana” de los
tunecinos y explícitamente proclama la pertenencia del país a la
“cultura y civilización de la nación árabe y musulmana”, expresando
el compromiso del Estado para trabajar en aras de reforzar “la
unión del Magreb como paso para alcanzar la unidad árabe (…)”. En
esta línea, el artículo 1 reafirma que “Túnez es un Estado libre, (…), el
islam es su religión, el árabe su idioma”, mientras que el artículo 5 confirma que “la República de Túnez forma parte del Magreb árabe”.
Por tanto, para el Estado de Túnez los Amazigh no existen en el país.
A nivel internacional, Túnez ha ratificado los principales estándares
internacionales y en 2007 votó a favor de la Declaración de las
Naciones Unidas sobre los Derechos de los Pueblos Indígenas. Sin
embargo, estos textos internacionales siguen siendo desconocidos
para la amplia mayoría de ciudadanos y profesionales del ámbito jurídico
y no se aplican en los tribunales nacionales.

The Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous (EMRIP) is
a subsidiary body of the Human Rights Council composed of
seven independent members, one from each of the seven Indigenous
sociocultural regions: Africa; Asia; the Arctic; Central
and Eastern Europe, the Russian Federation, Central Asia and
Transcaucasia; Central and South America and the Caribbean;
North America; and the Pacific. Resolution 33/25, adopted by
the Human Rights Council in 2016, amended EMRIP’s mandate
to provide the Human Rights Council with expertise and advice
on the rights of Indigenous Peoples as set out in the UN Declaration
on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and to
assist Member States, upon request, in achieving the ends of
the UNDRIP through the promotion, protection and fulfilment
of the rights of Indigenous Peoples, including through country
engagement as mentioned above.

The two Indigenous Peoples of Japan, the Ainu and the Okinawans, live on the northernmost and southernmost islands of the country’s archipelago. The Ainu territory stretches from Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands (now both Russian territories) to the northern part of present-day Japan, including the entire island of Hokkaido. Hokkaido was unilaterally incorporated into the Japanese state in 1869. Although most Ainu still live in Hokkaido, over the second half of the 20th century, tens of thousands migrated to Japan’s urban centres for work and to escape the more prevalent discrimination on Hokkaido. Since June 2008, the Ainu have been officially recognised as Indigenous people of Japan. The most recent government surveys put the Ainu population in Hokkaido at 13,118 (2017) and in the rest of Japan at 210 (2011), though experts estimate the actual population to be much higher. Okinawans, or Ryūkyūans, live in the Ryūkyū Islands, which make up Japan’s present-day Okinawa prefecture. They comprise several Indigenous language groups with distinct cultural traits. Japan colonised the Ryūkyūs in 1879 but later relinquished the islands to the United States in exchange for independence after World War II. In 1972, the islands were re- incorporated into the Japanese state and Okinawans became Japanese. The island of Okinawa is home to 1.1 million of the 1.4 million Okinawans living throughout the Ryūkyūs. The Japanese government does not recognise Okinawans as Indigenous people.
Japan has adopted the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) – although it does not recognise the unconditional right to self-determination. It has not ratified ILO Convention 169.

Nation-states around the world tend to view Indigenous nations' claims for sovereignty and self-determination in zero-sum terms, fearing that any advancement in Indigenous peoples' self-determination means a loss of sovereignty or territorial integrity for nation-states. This article aims to shed light on how Indigenous political actors in several countries are advancing self-determination in practice with, within, and across the borders of individual states, while navigating the international system, in assertive, maximal, innovative, and peaceful ways that do not result in a loss of nation-state sovereignty or territorial integrity. Some Indigenous peoples are entering into treaty or partnership agreements with other Indigenous groups, in conjunction with state institutions, or completely outside state purview. We examine several cases of such treaty relations and draw some conclusions about how these types of Indigenous-to-Indigenous treaty relations are enhancing and advancing Indigenous self-determination.

This paper takes the ratification of the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as its departure point. Reactions to the Declaration have thus far been mixed. According to advocates, these events signal ‘a new consensus’ that brings ‘to an end the nation states’ history of oppression of indigenous peoples’. According to critics, however, we have uncritically assumed an alliance between human rights and Aboriginal rights initiatives. This paper draws on these conflicting accounts, the theories of Rancière, and a discussion of a current Canadian court case to offer an assessment of the political possibilities of the UN declaration. Overall we argue that the value of the Declaration rests on our interpretation of the political process by which these rights are enacted. The possibilities of rights-based politics are always contextually dependent. In some instances a human rights frame can represent radical repositionings and rearticulations while at the same time always risking the possibility of co-optation. The acts of politics, in particular acts of dissensus, are the key factors that will impact whether the Rights of Indigenous Peoples lead to transformation or to the reinforcement of the status quo.

The declaration of 1992 as the International Year of the Indigenous People by the UN came after a long struggle. But there is now the danger that with the revival of colonial ambitions under the US leadership in the UN, the real issues of the submerged will be exploited by imperialist forces to subvert their genuine attempts at social transformation.

Los pueblos indígenas de Tailandia viven principalmente en tres regiones
geográficas del país: las comunidades de pescadores indígenas
(los Chao Ley) y las pequeñas poblaciones de cazadores-recolectores
del sur (los Mani); los pequeños grupos de la meseta de
Korat del noreste y el este; y los numerosos pueblos de las tierras
altas del norte y noroeste (conocidos con el término despectivo
de Chao-Khao). Se reconocen oficialmente nueve de las llamadas
“tribus de las colinas”: los Hmong, los Karen, los Lisu, los Mien, los
Akha, los Lahu, los Lua, los Thin y los Khamu.1
Se calcula que la población indígena de Tailandia es de unos
cinco millones de personas, lo que supone el 7.2% de la población
total.2 Según el Departamento de Desarrollo Social y Bienestar
(2002), la población total de “tribus de las colinas” reconocida oficialmente
es de 925.825 personas y se distribuye en 20 provincias
del norte y el oeste del país. Todavía no hay cifras disponibles para
los grupos indígenas del sur y el noreste. Cuando se trazaron las
fronteras nacionales en el sudeste asiático durante la época colonial
y como consecuencia de la descolonización, muchos pueblos
indígenas que vivían en tierras altas y bosques remotos fueron divididos.
Por ejemplo, podemos encontrar pueblos Lua y Karen tanto
en Tailandia como en Myanmar, y pueblos Akha en Laos, Myanmar,
el suroeste de China y Tailandia.
Tailandia es una monarquía constitucional y ha ratificado o
es signataria del Convenio sobre la Diversidad Biológica (CDB), la
Convención Marco de las Naciones Unidas sobre el Cambio Climático
(CMNUCC), la Convención sobre los Derechos del Niño (CDN),
el Pacto Internacional de Derechos Civiles y Políticos (PIDCP), la
Convención sobre la Eliminación de todas las Formas de Discriminación
Racial (CEDR) y la Declaración Universal de Derechos
Humanos. Votó a favor de la Declaración de las Naciones Unidas
sobre los Derechos de los Pueblos Indígenas, pero no reconoce oficialmente la existencia de pueblos indígenas en el país.
En 2010, el gobierno tailandés aprobó dos resoluciones del
gabinete para restablecer los medios de vida tradicionales de los
Chao Ley y los Karen, el 2 de junio y el 3 de agosto respectivamente.

The Amazigh (Berber) peoples are the Indigenous Peoples
of North Africa. The last census in Morocco (2016) estimated
the number of Tamazight speakers at 28% of the population.
However, Amazigh associations strongly contest it and instead
claim a rate of 65 to 70%. This means that the Amazigh-speaking
population could well number around 20 million in Morocco
and around 30 million throughout North Africa and the Sahel
as a whole.
The Amazigh people founded an organization called
“Amazigh Cultural Movement” (MCA) to defend their rights. It is
a civil society movement based on the universal values of human
rights. Today there are more than 800 Amazigh associations
established throughout Morocco.
The administrative and legal system of Morocco has
been strongly Arabized, and the Amazigh culture and way of
life are under constant pressure to assimilate. Morocco has for
many years been a unitary state with centralized authority, a
single religion, a single language and a systematic marginalization
of all aspects of the Amazigh identity. The 2011 Constitution
officially recognizes the Amazigh identity and language.
This could be a very positive and encouraging step for the
Amazigh people of Morocco. The parliament finally adopted in
2019 the organic law for the implementation of article 5 of the
constitution, after several years of waiting. Work to harmonize
the legal arsenal with the new Constitution should begin.
Morocco has not ratified ILO Convention 169 and has not
voted against the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples.

Tanzania is estimated to have a total of 125-130 ethnic groups,
falling mainly into the four categories of Bantu, Cushite, Nilo-
Hamite and San. While there may be more ethnic groups
that identify themselves as Indigenous Peoples, four groups
have been organising themselves and their struggles around
the concept and movement of Indigenous Peoples. The four
groups are the hunter-gatherer Akie and Hadzabe, and the
pastoralist Barabaig and Maasai. Although accurate figures
are hard to determine, since ethnic groups are not included in
the population census, population estimates1 put the Maasai in
Tanzania at 430,000, the Datoga group to which the Barabaig
belongs at 87,978, the Hadzabe at 1,0002 and the Akie at 5,268.
While the livelihoods of these groups are diverse, they all share
a strong attachment to the land, distinct identities, vulnerability
and marginalisation. They also experience similar problems
in relation to land tenure insecurity, poverty and inadequate political
representation.
Tanzania voted in favour of the UN Declaration on the
Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007 but does not
recognise the existence of any Indigenous Peoples in the country
and there is no specific national policy or legislation on Indigenous
Peoples per se. On the contrary, a number of policies,
strategies and programmes that do not reflect the interests of
the Indigenous Peoples in terms of access to land and natural
resources, basic social services and justice are continuously
being developed, resulting in a deteriorating and increasingly
hostile political environment for both pastoralists and hunter-
gatherers.

Three of Nicaragua’s seven Indigenous Peoples live in the Pacific,
central and northern regions: the Chorotega (221,000),
the Cacaopera or Matagalpa (97,500), the Ocanxiu or Sutiaba
(49,000) and the Nahoa or Nahuatl (20,000). In addition,
the Caribbean (or Atlantic) coast is inhabited by the Miskitu
(150,000), the Sumu or Mayangna (27,000) and the Rama
(2,000). Other peoples who also enjoy collective rights, according
to the Political Constitution of Nicaragua (1987), are
the Afro-descendants, also known as “ethnic communities” in
national legislation. These include the Creole or Kriol (43,000)
and the Garífuna (2,500).
The Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) came to
power in Nicaragua in 1979, subsequently having to confront
the U.S.-funded “Contra” rebel groups. Peasant farmers from
the Pacific and the Indigenous Peoples of the Caribbean Coast
participated in the Contra. In 1987, following a friendly settlement
of the conflict through the Inter-American Commission
on Human Rights (IACHR), and in order to put an end to this
Indigenous resistance, the FSLN created the Autonomous Regions
of the Northern Caribbean Coast (RACCN) and Southern
Caribbean Coast (RACCS), based on a Statute of Autonomy
(Law No. 28). Following the judgment of the Inter-American
Court of Human Rights (IA Court) in the case of the Mayangna
(Sumo) community of Awas Tingni v Nicaragua in 2001, Law
No. 445 on the Communal Property Regime of the Indigenous
Peoples and Ethnic Communities of the Autonomous Regions
of the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua and of the Bocay, Coco, Indio
and Maíz rivers was issued, recognising these communities’
right to self-government and creating a procedure for the titling
of their territories. The state began the titling process in 2005
for the 23 Indigenous and Afro-descendant territories in the
RACCN and RACCS, culminating in the issuing of property titles.
In 2007, Nicaragua voted in favour of the UN Declaration on
the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and in 2010 ratified ILO Convention
169. The Alliance of Indigenous and Afro-descendant
Peoples of Nicaragua (APIAN) was formed in 2015.

Indigenous Peoples – or Amerindians as they are identified
both collectively and in legislation – number some 78,500 in
the Co-operative Republic of Guyana, or approximately 10.5%
of the total population of 746,955 (2012 census).1 They are the
fourth largest ethnic group, East Indians being the largest
(40%), followed by African Guyanese (29%) and self-identified
“Mixed” (20%). The Chinese, Portuguese and Whites constitute
tiny minorities. Amerindians refer to these non-Indigenous
people as “coastlanders” since most of them are settled on the
coast.
The Amerindians are grouped into nine Indigenous Nations,
based on language. The Warao, the Arawak and the Carib
(Karinya) live on the coast. The Wapichan, the Arekuna, the Makushi,
the Wai Wai, the Patamona and the Akawaio live in villages
scattered throughout the interior. Amerindians constitute
the majority of the population of the interior, in some regions
constituting as much as 86% of the population. The forest resources/
timber on government-titled Indigenous lands (Amerindian
Village Lands) are fully under the managerial authority
of the Amerindian title holders, while minerals under the same
lands remain under ultimate national government authority.
The poorly regulated exploitation of these resources by multinationals,
illegal miners and loggers is one of the challenges
faced by Indigenous Peoples. Their primary concern is therefore
to achieve full recognition of Indigenous land rights so they
can defend their ancestral territories from this exploitation.
The Independence Agreement from the United Kingdom
(1965) included a land titling process. Recommendations regarding
this process from the Amerindian Lands Commission
(1967-1969) have never been fully taken up by successive
governments. Requests made for collective district titles have
been dismissed, resulting in the fragmentation of traditional
territories into small areas under individual village titles. The
Constitution of Guyana in its Preamble recognises “the special
place in our nation of the indigenous peoples” and recognises
“their right as citizens to land and security and to their promulgation of policies for their communities”. Guyana endorsed
the UNDRIP in 2007. The Ministry of Indigenous Peoples’ Affairs
reverted to its previous name of “Amerindian Affairs” (MOAA)
following the change in ruling party in August 2020.

El Navegador Indígena es un portal en línea que proporciona acceso
a un conjunto de herramientas desarrolladas por y para los pueblos
indígenas. A través del marco del Navegador Indígena se reúnen
datos que pueden ser utilizados por los pueblos indígenas para defender
sus derechos y para supervisar sistemáticamente el nivel de
reconocimiento y aplicación de esos derechos. El marco del Navegador
Indígena abarca más de 150 indicadores de estructura, proceso
e impacto para supervisar los aspectos centrales de los derechos
civiles, políticos, sociales, económicos y culturales y las libertades
fundamentales de los pueblos indígenas consagrados en la Declaración
de las Naciones Unidas sobre los Derechos de los Pueblos
Indígenas (UNDRIP) y el Convenio N.º 169 de la Organización Internacional
del Trabajo (OIT). Además, el marco permite el seguimiento del
documento final de la Conferencia Mundial sobre Pueblos Indígenas
(CMPI) y los Objetivos de Desarrollo Sostenible (ODS).
Mediante el uso del Navegador Indígena, las organizaciones y
comunidades indígenas, los responsables, las ONG y los periodistas
pueden acceder a herramientas y recursos gratuitos basados en datos
actualizados generados por la comunidad. Al documentar e informar
sobre sus propias situaciones, los pueblos indígenas pueden
mejorar su acceso a la justicia y al desarrollo y ayudar a documentar
la situación de los pueblos indígenas en todo el mundo.
El consorcio formado por el Pacto de los Pueblos Indígenas
de Asia (AIPP), la organización Forest People Programme (FPP), el
Grupo Internacional de Trabajo sobre Asuntos Indígenas (IWGIA),
la Fundación Tebtebba, Centro Internacional de los Pueblos Indígenas
para la Investigación de Políticas y Educación (TEBTEBBA),
el Instituto Danés de Derechos Humanos (DIHR) y la Organización
Internacional del Trabajo (OIT) es quien ha desarrollado e impulsado
la Iniciativa del Navegador Indígena (INI), iniciada en 2014. Este
consorcio trabaja en colaboración con la Comisión Europea.

The Indigenous Peoples of Thailand live mainly in three geo- graphical regions of the country: indigenous fisher communities (the Chao Ley) and small populations of hunter-gatherers in the south (Mani people); small groups on the Korat plateau of the north-east and east; and the many different highland peoples in the north and north-west of the country (known by the derogatory term Chao-Khao). Nine so-called “hill tribes” are officially recognised: the Hmong, Karen, Lisu, Mien, Akha, Lahu, Lua, Thin and Khamu.
The estimated Indigenous population in Thailand is around five million people, which accounts for 7.2% of the total population.
According to the Department of Social Development and Welfare (2002), the total officially recognised “hill-tribe” population numbers 925,825 and they are distributed across 20 provinces in the north and west of the country. There are still no figures available for the Indigenous groups in the south and north-east. When national boundaries in South-East Asia were drawn during the colonial era, and as a result in the wake of decolonisation, many Indigenous Peoples living in remote highlands and forests were divided. For example, you can find Lua and Karen people in both Thailand and Myanmar, and Akha people in Laos, Myanmar, south-west China and Thailand.
Thailand is a constitutional monarchy and has ratified or is a signatory to the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimi- nation (CERD) and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It voted in support of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) but does not officially recognise the existence of Indigenous Peoples in the country.
In 2010, the Thai government passed two cabinet resolutions to restore the traditional livelihoods of the Chao Ley and Karen, on 2 June and 3 August respectively.

The Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples’ (EMRIP)is a subsidiary body of the Human Rights Council composed of seven independent members, one from each of the seven indigenous sociocultural regions: Africa; Asia; the Arctic; Central and Eastern Europe, the Russian Federation, Central Asia and Transcaucasia; Central and South America and the Caribbean; North America; and the Pacific. Resolution 33/25, adopted by the Human Rights Council in 2016, amended EMRIP’s mandate to provide the Human Right s Council with expertise and advice on the rights of Indigenous Peoples as set out in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), and assist Member States, upon request, in achieving the ends of the UNDRIP through the promotion, protection and fulfilment of the rights of Indigenous Peoples. This includes, offering technical assistance and dialogue facilitation upon request. To that end, and with a view to focusing on the UNDRIP’s implementation, EMRIP undertakes regular thematic studies on specific rights enshrined in the UNDRIP, carries out country engagement missions, and brings expertise to relevant national initiatives on Indigenous Peoples’ rights.