The Amazon rainforest, often described as the planet’s lungs, is at a crossroads. In 2025, the region is enduring one of the most severe droughts in recorded history, a crisis fueled by the convergence of the El Niño phenomenon, accelerating climate change, and relentless deforestation for agriculture and mining. The stakes could not be higher: the Amazon’s biodiversity, the livelihoods of Indigenous communities, and the global climate balance hang in the balance.
According to reporting from Palm Oil Detectives and The Good Men Project, the drought’s impact has been catastrophic. Rivers that once teemed with life are now reduced to trickles, with the Madeira River—one of the Amazon’s great waterways—at its lowest level in nearly six decades. In the state of Amazonas, 42 out of 62 municipalities have declared a state of emergency, while 18 are on alert. Only two remain in normal condition. The crisis has already claimed the lives of more than 140 dolphins, including the iconic pink dolphins and tucuxis, and fish mortality is soaring. For countless villages, even those perched on riverbanks, the shortage of drinking water and food is acute.
What’s driving this disaster? The El Niño weather pattern, marked by the abnormal warming of Pacific Ocean waters, has disrupted rainfall patterns, reducing humidity and drying out vast stretches of forest. But as experts and local leaders point out, El Niño is only part of the story. Human-driven climate change and deforestation have magnified the region’s vulnerability. The Amazon’s ability to regulate climate and retain moisture is being eroded by the clearing of land for palm oil, soy, and cattle ranching. Gold mining, too, has left scars—creating land banks that make navigation treacherous and contribute to further ecological disruption.
Hydroelectric dams, once heralded as engines of progress, are now recognized as contributors to the crisis. The Jirau and Santo Antônio dams on the Madeira River have altered the river’s natural flow, forming reservoirs that release methane—a potent greenhouse gas—while also reducing the volume of water downstream. The construction of these dams has required the clearing of large tracts of forest, further diminishing the region’s capacity for evapotranspiration, a process vital for maintaining the Amazon’s water cycle. As Palm Oil Detectives notes, the result is a feedback loop: less forest means less water vapor, which means less rain, which leads to even more drought.
Deforestation is particularly rampant along Highway BR-319 in southern Amazonas. Land grabbing and the influx of cattle ranchers have driven up the number of fires, which in turn exacerbate the climate crisis. When these fires occur near riverbanks, they intensify erosion and the phenomenon of “fallen land,” making river navigation even more difficult and threatening the survival of remote communities.
The consequences for wildlife are dire. Species like the Amazon River dolphin, Baird’s tapir, harlequin poison frog, Orinoco crocodile, and Hoge’s Side-necked Turtle are all under threat. The loss of these animals is not just a tragedy for biodiversity—it signals a broader unraveling of the ecosystem’s fabric.
Yet amid the gloom, there is a groundswell of action and hope, especially from the Amazon’s Indigenous peoples. On June 2, 2025, leaders representing more than 511 Indigenous groups from across the Amazon Basin gathered in Brasília to discuss solutions they are implementing to address the global climate crisis. As reported by Mongabay, these leaders reaffirmed seven commitments they believe can change the course of the crisis. Their message is clear: “The Amazon is close to the point of no return. Avoiding this is a shared and urgent responsibility. Strong and respectful alliances with Indigenous peoples are the best strategy for protecting life.”
Central to their vision is the protection and legal security of Indigenous territories. These lands, they argue, are not untouched wilderness but carefully managed forests. In Colombia alone, more than 27 million hectares of land titled as Indigenous reserves are among the country’s best-preserved ecosystems. Indigenous leaders insist that governments must guarantee the demarcation, titling, and protection of these territories—only then can the relentless advance of deforestation, land grabbing, and illegal activities be halted.
Another key demand is direct access to climate finance. Too often, climate funds get bogged down in bureaucracy or siphoned off by intermediaries with little understanding of Amazonian realities. Indigenous peoples have created their own financial instruments, such as the INDII Fund in Colombia and the Podáali in Brazil, but face barriers to accessing resources. “We demand direct access to financing. Direct. Without intermediaries. With autonomy. Because it is our priorities that have proven to be real solutions for caring for life in a comprehensive and lasting way,” Indigenous authors told Mongabay.
Indigenous leaders also call for full and effective participation in decision-making. They reject being treated as mere stakeholders or “nongovernmental organizations,” emphasizing their status as governments with internationally recognized rights to self-determination and territorial management. “Participation is not about occupying a seat at the end of the room; it is about being present and engaged. It is decision-making power,” they declared during their Pre-COP 30 gathering.
Integral to their approach is the recognition of Indigenous knowledge systems. These are not antiquated traditions but sophisticated, place-based sciences developed over millennia. “Our knowledge is specialized systems of the territory, built over thousands of years. We do not observe the territory from outside: we are part of it, together with the other beings that inhabit it,” said an Indigenous elder. They urge that global climate action must be guided not just by scientific expertise, but by the holistic wisdom embedded in Indigenous languages, songs, and governance.
The Indigenous coalition also insists that the energy transition in the Amazon must be just. This means excluding mining for so-called “green” minerals, oil extraction, and biofuel monocultures from Indigenous lands unless free, prior, and informed consent is given. “If the energy transition does not defend life, it will not be a transition,” they warn.
Protection of land defenders is another urgent priority. As global leaders debate climate policy, those who protect the Amazon are being threatened, murdered, or poisoned—especially women and children. The creation of human rights observatories, Indigenous protection protocols, and accountability mechanisms within climate agreements is seen as essential.
Finally, the Indigenous leaders propose that their contributions be fully incorporated into national climate policies and Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) under the Paris Agreement. They argue that their ongoing efforts to restore, protect, and resist in their territories must be recognized, supported, and financed as part of the global fight against climate change.
As the world looks ahead to COP30 in Brazil, the message from the Amazon is unmistakable: time is running out. The drought of 2025 is not just another headline—it is a warning. Whether the Amazon tips past the point of no return will depend on the actions taken now, by local and global leaders, and by the international community at large. The solutions, as Indigenous leaders remind us, are already at hand—if only the world is willing to listen.
