“I come here through the gate of necessity,” says Haru Kuntanawa, as he steps onto the stage during the closing ceremony of the Climate Change and Consciousness conference, three years ago, in Scotland.

He is dressed in the ceremonial attire of his people, carrying the Amazon rainforest on his shoulders. He stands erect and dignified, and holds a long white feather. In his thirties, he has the gravitas of someone twice his age. As he speaks, urging us to help stop the destruction of the rainforest, I see neither anger nor reproach on his face; not even distress. Rather, in his smile, I see warmth, trust, love, and shades of a world-shattering grief. Perhaps the look of someone trying to show a beloved relative that she is harming herself and others, but that things don’t have to be this way.

His words, unexpectedly, break me open. Tears come bursting out, and I weep like I haven’t wept in years.

The Kuntanawa tribe lives in what is now known as the state of Acre, in West Brazil. Haru co-leads the tribe with his wife, Hayra.

When I heard Haru speak, president Jair Bolsonaro had only just been elected. Since then, deforestation in Brazil has accelerated to such a dramatic extent that the Amazon rainforest now appears incredibly, mind-bogglingly close to an irreversible tipping point. If it were to begin turning into dry savannah, the consequences for the entire planet are too scary to even contemplate – due to the domino effect of self-reinforcing feedback loops, this event may contribute to sending Earth systems careening towards a catastrophic “Hothouse Earth” state.

And I am writing as a privileged European, whose comfortable lifestyle, healthcare, education and travels have been engineered through the extraction of fossil fuels and other “natural resources” around the world – including from the continent that was named “South America,” after some Italian merchant. If even I, child of a distant land, sense a deep darkness and terror well up inside me when considering the possible extinction of the Amazon rainforest, what must it feel like to Haru and his people, whose entire existence, from the physical to the ancestral and spiritual planes, are entwined within it?

And what must it feel like, to live with the knowledge that they are increasingly likely to be murdered with impunity for their stubbornness in defending their rights and caring for this wondrous ecosystem? One third of the 358 human rights defenders who were killed in 2021 around the world were Indigenous. Study after study show that without them, rainforests worldwide would likely have already started collapsing by now – even while millions have been displaced under the pretext of Western “conservation” programs.

The main reason Indigenous peoples like the Kuntanawa are targetted is that they are among the last, and staunchest defenders of life on this planet. They stand in the way of the Machine whose vast jaws are on a self-destructive mission to devour the bodies and souls of humans and non-humans, and consume  every last thread in the vast, delicate, intricate web of life that covers our planet – and excrete everything under the form of tiny electric blips within the computers of banking systems controlled by a few distracted individuals. Indigenous resistance is likely to become even more critical in the coming decades: “Green New Deal” and “sustainable transition” policies in wealthy countries will lead to increased pressure on Indigenous lands, as the Machine attempts to extract from under their feet the rare minerals that some delusional humans believe will enable consumerist, modern-industrial lifestyles to keep going.

Another reason to silence Indigenous people is that, as they put their lives on the line and uphold different ways of being in the world, they inspire others to snap out of their petty worries and digital reveries, and join them in their struggles – be it in Standing Rock, on Wet’suwet’en land, in the Philippines, and elsewhere. They energise the global movement that Naomi Klein has referred to as “Blockadia,” which opposes extractivism and calls for climate justice. As they warn us, again and again, that the modern civilisation is killing life on earth, their voices sometimes reach us, cutting through the noise.

So it was that two weeks ago, the Kuntanawa inspired me to take part in the launch of their Global Ambassador Program. Although it happened in the digital realm – you can watch the replay here – I found it profoundly moving.

I learned that this program aims to form a network of supporters giving direct assistance to the Kuntanawa in their mission to regenerate the Amazon rainforest, while providing decent livelihoods to its inhabitants.

Their action is threefold:

1. To nurture a diversity of tree seedlings that they then replant in forest areas that have been degraded by industrial activities;
2. To pay other forest inhabitants a decent living wage to help plant trees and protect the ecosystems, thus discouraging them from working for big exploitative corporations that destroy human and non-human lives;
3. To develop biodynamic farming techniques and other sustainable ways of ensuring food security for the Kuntanawa and other peoples of the Amazon. This is increasingly a priority due to the degradation of the local ecosystems and the loss of wildlife – for example, two of the main rivers the Kuntanawa used to fish in are now running dry, as a direct consequence of deforestation.

Contrary to measures such as the carbon offsetting program decided during COP26 in Glasgow, and which is denounced by Indigenous peoples as a form of neo-colonialism that “perpetuates the theft of [their] land and territories,” the Kuntanawa’s initiative fully acknowledges their ancestral role as stewards of the forest. It is about honouring and strengthening this way of life, and making it less difficult for them to carry on, in the face of the Machine and its capitalistic logic.

I find it extremely relevant and worth supporting. As Haru reminded us during the opening call, “It is not possible to preserve the forest when the people inside live in poverty.”

Joining the Global Ambassador Program means signing up to a new social network set up by the Kuntanawa, and committing to making a monthly donation – which can be as low as $5. All funds are managed by their charity, Transform & Illuminate. As the charity is small and has very low overheads, the proceeds go straight to their front-line community projects.

Through the Kuntanawa Nation Guardian Network, members also receive invitations to gatherings with Haru and Hayra, can network among themselves, and form alliances with other initiatives.

This work feels vital to me. I want to support these people, financially and otherwise. To help them withstand the assaults of the Machine, even as it continues to wreak social and ecological collapse everywhere, and in recognition of their courage, I want to stand with them. If you’d like to join me, you can sign up here. You can also make a one-time donation to the Kuntanawa here.

I will give the last word to Haru:

“We came to this world to live, to transform, to illuminate. And for this, we need to let go of the past, the past of war. We need to focus on the future of light. We need to remember that each of us is an ancestor. One culture without the other makes no sense – each complements the other. Together, we will change this reality. We will make this difference.”

Feature image: Cat Jenkins; Map of potential tipping cascades: Steffen et al 2018.