In a world increasingly interconnected, it’s easy to forget that some communities still choose to remain hidden from view—by necessity, not nostalgia. A new report by Survival International, published on October 27, 2025, shines a stark light on the plight of 196 uncontacted Indigenous groups spread across 10 countries, with the vast majority living in the dense, life-sustaining forests of South America’s Amazon basin. The findings, drawn from a five-year investigation, warn that half of these groups—tens of thousands of people—could vanish within a decade if current trends continue.
The threats facing these communities are manifold and relentless. According to Survival International, nearly 65% of all uncontacted groups are threatened by logging, about 40% by mining, and roughly 20% by agribusiness. These figures paint a picture of an existential crisis unfolding out of sight, as roads, miners, and criminal gangs push deeper into remote territories. The report brands these unfolding tragedies as “silent genocides”—there are no TV crews or journalists chronicling these disappearances, but the loss is no less real. Fiona Watson, Survival’s research and advocacy director, told the Associated Press, “These are what I would call silent genocides — there are no TV crews, no journalists. But they are happening, and they’re happening now.”
Most of the world’s uncontacted peoples—more than 95%, according to Survival International—live in the Amazon rainforest, especially in Brazil and Peru. These aren’t “lost tribes” frozen in a bygone era, as Watson is quick to clarify. Instead, they’re contemporary societies who have chosen isolation after generations of violence, slavery, and disease. “They don’t need anything from us,” Watson explained. “They’re happy in the forest. They have incredible knowledge and they help keep these very valuable forests standing — essential to all humanity in the fight against climate change.”
It’s a point echoed by Indigenous leaders. Julio Cusurichi Palacios, who directs the program for the defense of isolated Indigenous peoples for the Interethnic Association for the Development of the Peruvian Rainforest (AIDESEP), and Beto Marubo, the Brasília representative for the Union of Indigenous Peoples of the Javari Valley, have both called on their governments to fulfill their “constitutional, legal and moral obligations” to protect these communities. For them, the forests are not just a resource—they are life itself.
The dangers of contact are not just theoretical. Dr. Subhra Bhattacharjee, director general of the Forest Stewardship Council and an Indigenous rights expert, explained to the Associated Press that even a simple cold could prove deadly. “A simple cold that you and I recover from in a week … they could die of that cold.” This vulnerability is compounded by the fact that international law requires free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC) before any activity on Indigenous lands. But as Bhattacharjee points out, “when you have groups living in voluntary isolation, who you cannot get close to without risking their lives, you cannot get FPIC. No FPIC means no consent.” Her organization’s policy is clear: “No contact, no-go zones.”
The history of these threats is long and tangled. During Brazil’s military dictatorship from 1964 to 1985, highways were bulldozed through the rainforest, attracting settlers, loggers, and cattle ranchers. Diseases and violence followed, wiping out entire communities. Today, the threats have evolved. Organized crime—drug traffickers and illegal gold miners—now pose some of the gravest dangers across Peru, Brazil, Colombia, Venezuela, and Ecuador. Any encounter risks transmitting deadly diseases, and bows and arrows are no match for guns. “Any chance encounter runs the risk of transmitting the flu, which can easily wipe out an uncontacted people within a year of contact,” Watson warned.
Evangelical missionary incursions have also proven dangerous. Under former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro, an evangelical pastor was placed in charge of the government’s unit for uncontacted peoples, gaining access to their coordinates. “Their mission was to force contact — to ‘save souls,’” Watson said. “That is incredibly dangerous.”
Despite these dangers, government protection has often been inconsistent or actively undermined. Brazil’s 1987 policy to protect isolated peoples by demarcating their territories and avoiding contact led to an increase in their numbers and allowed populations to grow. However, the National Foundation for Indigenous Peoples (Funai), the agency tasked with their protection, has been deliberately weakened in recent decades. Its patrolling authority was never formalized, and although President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva issued a decree in 2024 to address this, Congress has partially succeeded in challenging these efforts. The controversial “marco temporal” law, passed in 2023, recognizes only Indigenous territories occupied as of October 5, 1988, effectively blocking demarcation of some lands, such as the Pardo River Kawahiva territory, even though the presence of isolated peoples there was confirmed only later.
Of Brazil’s 114 reported isolated groups, only 28 have been officially confirmed, and many live in undemarcated or vulnerable areas that could be lost if the marco temporal standard prevails. Meanwhile, environmental laws are under attack, with moves to open protected areas and Indigenous lands to loggers, miners, and agribusiness. These incursions, Survival International warns, “represent a death sentence for many forest cultures.”
Peru faces its own challenges. Disinformation campaigns—often funded by groups with economic interests in the rainforest—deny the existence of isolated peoples. The government officially recognizes 25 such groups, but Indigenous organizations suggest there may be at least 10 more. Congressional bills threaten to eliminate protections: Bill 12215/2025-CR would give Congress and a special review committee oversight of Indigenous reserves, potentially eliminating existing lands and making new ones nearly impossible to create. Bill 11822/2024-CR would allow oil and gas extraction in all of Peru’s protected areas, including national parks inhabited by isolated peoples. On September 4, 2025, a multisectoral committee rejected the proposal for the 1.2 million hectare Yavari Mirim Indigenous reserve, even though its existence was officially recognized in 2018 and evidence for its establishment has been collected for over two decades.
Internationally, treaties like the International Labor Organization’s Convention 169 and the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples affirm the right to self-determination and to remain uncontacted. But enforcement is uneven. In Ecuador, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights ruled this year that the government failed to protect the Tagaeri and Taromenane peoples in Yasuni National Park.
Advocates say the way forward is clear but challenging. Governments must formally recognize and enforce Indigenous territories, making them off-limits to extractive industries. Corporations and consumers should ensure their supply chains don’t drive destruction of Indigenous lands. Public opinion and media pressure are crucial, as Watson noted: “It’s largely through citizens and the media that so much has already been achieved to recognize uncontacted peoples and their rights.”
Ultimately, the fate of these uncontacted peoples is entwined with global efforts to combat climate change. Their forests are among the planet’s most intact and biodiverse, providing a vital buffer against the climate crisis. As Dr. Bhattacharjee put it, “With the world under pressure from climate change, we will sink or swim together.” The urgency is clear, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—for the world’s most vulnerable cultures, and for the planet as a whole.
