It is late September 2023 in Tena, Ecuador. 20 Amazonian Indigenous women are gathered in the city to protest against gold mining in their ancestral lands. However, across from them stands a much larger group, touting the economic benefits of extraction and holding signs that read “Sí a la minería!” (Yes to mining!). The situation escalates when pro-mining demonstrators start insulting and issuing death threats at the women while breaking their placards. A fight between the two camps is barely averted.

The 20 women all come from the Kichwa community of Serena. To protect their ancestral territory from the advances of the mining sector, they have formed Yuturi Warmi, the first women-led Indigenous guard of the Napo province in the Ecuadorian Amazon. They aim to preserve the integrity of the rainforest and the wellbeing of its inhabitants, but as the episode in Tena shows, they often lack external support in tense situations, including from environmental organisations.

Yuturi Warmi’s work entails considerable perils: Latin America has been designated as the most dangerous place to be a climate activist. Death threats and murder are common strategies used to deter endeavours against destructive and polluting activities. Indigenous peoples are especially vulnerable to this violence because they often firmly oppose unsustainable resource extraction taking place on their territories.

The Amazon rainforest harbours about 10 per cent of the world’s known species as well as hundreds of culturally rich ethnic groups. Moreover, it plays a vital role in regulating our global climate. Acting as an enormous carbon sink, the Amazon absorbs around 5 per cent of the world’s total emissions, earning it the nickname of “the lungs of the Earth”. Additionally, the rainforest is also called “the world’s largest medicine cabinet” since 25 per cent of modern Western medicines originate from its flora.

A Resource Curse

Despite its incredible natural capital, the Amazon’s biodiversity and the communities it hosts are facing serious threats from extractivism, i.e., the large-scale and violent extraction of raw materials. At its core, extractivism is defined by the non-reciprocity of a global organisation system in which Western capitalist superpowers accumulate wealth from resources in the Global South.

Since its discovery by European colonisers, the Amazon has been scarred by destructive activities such as mining, oil exploitation, and the agro-industrial sector. Aside from contaminating the land with toxic chemicals, these industries drive deforestation, resulting in a loss of forest cover bigger than the size of France in the past 20 years.

Ecuador entered the global market following its colonisation by the Spanish Empire in the 16^th century. Shortly afterwards, its European conquerors started extracting minerals, including copper, silver, gold, lead, and zinc. Mines were opened in every region, and large swathes of forest were turned into agricultural fields.

However, in the 1970s, the discovery of oil in the Northern Amazon took extractivism in the area to an unprecedented level. Both state-owned and international oil companies invaded the region to profit from Ecuador’s black gold. These actors peddled a narrative of salvation to justify the dispossession of Indigenous land and the destruction of natural habitats. Such propaganda is still being used to this day, and it was especially pronounced during the presidency of Rafael Correa from 2007 to 2017. Correa’s so-called neoliberal social policies promised to fund social projects aimed at elevating the seemingly “backward” and “underdeveloped” Indigenous communities.

Still, despite the dramatic increase in the scale of these extractive projects over the past ten years, local communities continue to face systemic poverty. Correa’s neoliberal policies fuelled growing inequalities and enhanced Ecuador’s dependence on the export of a few commodities. Maintained in this unequal global system of exploitation, the country needs to continuously export more resources to keep up with the international market’s demand. Like many other regions in the Global South, the Amazon suffers from a resource curse: abundant in non-renewable resources but unable to benefit from them, it is condemned to remain in a state of economic precarity.

Like many other regions in the Global South, the Amazon suffers from a resource curse: abundant in non-renewable resources but unable to benefit from them, it is condemned to remain in a state of economic precarity.

To maintain its position as an important exporter of minerals, the Ecuadorian government has entered into agreements with large foreign mining companies. The mining sites of Fruta Del Norte for gold (owned by Lundin Gold, a Canadian US-funded company), and Mirador for copper (owned by Chinese CRCC-Tongguan) have now permanently scarred the country’s landscape. More recently, President Daniel Noboa secretly negotiated and concluded a free trade agreement with Canada. Local Indigenous organisations have condemned this deal as solely benefiting transnational mining and private interests. Furthermore, the Ecuadorian government failed to conduct adequate prior consultation with the local population to obtain their informed consent.

Since 2019, Napo province – where the Serena community is located – has witnessed a boom in gold mining. The state has sold dozens of mining concessions to large enterprises, such as TerraEarth Resources S.A. In 2020, the Chinese-owned company acquired exclusive mining rights in most of the area, including the Serena community’s territory. But shortly afterwards, the Provincial Court of Justice in Tena ordered TerraEarth to halt its activities due to inappropriate environmental management.

This provided an opportunity for illegal small-scale miners to enter the vacant mining areas and start digging. Without proper law enforcement, and due to an unemployment crisis exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, the quick source of income that gold mining offered was attractive to both locals and foreigners. But the precious metal also attracted criminal groups involved in narcotrafficking since it offers an ideal solution for laundering the gains from drugs.

So far, more than 7000 hectares of land in Napo has been permanently damaged by illegal gold mining activities. However, it is important to note that Indigenous groups such as Yuturi Warmi consider all mining to be illegal, as no actors seek to obtain their prior and informed consent before starting excavations. In the same vein, local environmental organisations complain that it has become difficult to separate illegal and legal mining in the region because state authorities and official companies alike knowingly benefit from illegal mining.

Laying waste to land and culture

Industrial gold mining has numerous negative consequences for local communities and their natural surroundings. Trees are uprooted to make space for the excavators, which then cause erosion by digging into the land. The rivers and soil get contaminated by mercury used for separating the gold from the ore, along with other toxic wastes dumped directly into the water and pollution from the process of leaching piles of rock. In some areas, this has led to the complete disappearance of aquatic life, which is unable to adapt to these conditions.

For humans, exposure to the heavy metals used in the mining process causes lung diseases, skin rashes, stomach issues, and cancers. Often, the polluted river is the only source of water available to local communities. Moreover, the contamination of the soil also renders any kind of agriculture impossible, depriving families of an important source of livelihood. “The land does not bear fruits anymore, it’s worthless”, states Rosaura Alvarado, one of the members of Yuturi Warmi.

Amazonian Kichwa communities depend on their chakras ― a system of sustainable agriculture that uses ancestral and ecological knowledge to conserve the forest, water, soil, and wildlife. This regenerative model is an integral part of their traditional way of life, providing them with edible, medicinal, and other kinds of useful plants. In addition, the Kichwa culture and spirituality are intimately linked to nature’s integrity, and every rite is related to products obtained from the land. Like in a variety of Latin American Indigenous cultures, the women of Yuturi Warmi consider their bodies to be connected to the territory, and harm to one results in harm to the other. Gold mining thus represents a threat to the survival of the Kichwa culture.

Another threat to the communities living near mining sites is the increasing prevalence of narcotraffickers in their region, coupled with the deterioration of socio-economic conditions.  These criminal groups sometimes carry out shootings and other deadly acts of violence in Indigenous areas, as well as human rights abuses such as the forced labour of children or other vulnerable individuals in the mines. “There is prostitution, drug addiction, alcoholism that come to the communities. (…) It is the result of mining,” says Elsa Cerda, another Yuturi. But she also remains determined: “In this community we don’t have it. And we are not going to allow it. Ever.”

Often, women suffer a disproportionate share of these problems. Traditionally considered as the primary caretakers of the household and chakra, their responsibilities are rendered more difficult to manage. The need to use water for chores exposes them to the toxic chemicals, and the struggles to farm on contaminated land intensify. Even when they are sick, women still need to tend to their families. Gender based violence linked to alcoholism and forced prostitution is also a symptom of gold mining. Indeed, most of the women who are members of Yuturi Warmi said they had suffered domestic violence at the hands of their partners, who initially opposed their wish to protest against extractivism. The women would leave the household and their responsibilities to protest on the streets, and their husbands would be angry at them for coming home empty-handed after a full day of absence.

Resistance strategies

So far, the inhabitants of Serena are the only ones in the region who have successfully prevented miners from entering their territory. This success is due to their self-organisation as the Indigenous guard of Yuturi Warmi. Back in 2020, faced with the growing threat posed by the advances of the gold  mines, a group of 14 women from Serena decided to take action and unite against extractivism. Their name translates to “bullet ant (yuturi) women (warmi)”, referring to the infamous insects whose bite causes excruciating pain and which collectively attack intruders.

Today, the association has grown to encompass almost all of Serena’s inhabitants, including some individuals living in other communities. Yuturi Warmi joined the politically powerful Indigenous Ecuadorian movement, which has won numerous environmental victories in recent years. One of its most important successes is the 2023 Yes to Yasuní referendum, in which Ecuador’s citizens democratically voted against oil exploitation activities in the precious Yasuní National Park. However, the referendum has yet to be enforced, as governmental plans to increase national oil exploitation continue.

Yuturi Warmi’s resistance strategies are manifold. The group takes part in street protests, marches, and sit-ins outside of judicial hearings. Moreover, the Yuturis have travelled to other areas to take part in anti-mining action organised by local collectives both in the nearby city of Tena, and in further locations such as Puyo, or even the capital, Quito. “We make signs, write that we want clean water, that we want our nature, no more mining,” explains Rosaura. They often go to protests wearing their traditional Kichwa apparel such as artesanías (beaded jewelry) and maquicotona (typical women’s shirt). Some members of the group have even been invited to speak about climate justice and Indigenous rights at both governmental and international conferences, such as COPs. Yuturi Warmi also takes part in protests unrelated to mining but opposing development projects threatening their own or other Kichwa communities’ right to self-determination. For example, in December last year, they went to the small town of Archidona to oppose the construction of a large prison, which would endanger the locals’ security and economic activities.

Besides public demonstrations, the Yuturis organise at the community level to ensure no miners enter Serena’s territory. They have a group chat and an alarm system to communicate, scout their land both in teams and with a drone, and, more recently, started guarding the entrance of the community around the clock in response to intensifying efforts from miners to intrude.

To defend themselves, the members of Yuturi Warmi have expressed their readiness to use what they call justicia indígena (Indigenous justice). In the Kichwa culture, this entails brandishing spears and threatening assailants with chilli peppers, nettles, and liquid tobacco: “Do you know what chilli pepper is like? If it gets on your face or in your eyes, it stings and makes you cry. You won’t be able to open your eyes. That’s our first weapon that we must throw. And we put tobacco wherever we can get our hands on; in the nose, in the eyes… That’s our weapon. And to intimidate them, we have the spear,” said another member of the group, Piedad Alvarado.

Finally, Yuturi Warmi takes part in activities providing alternative sources of income to industrial mining. Through communal classes, all the women, as well as some of their husbands, have learned how to craft objects such as jewellery and ceramics. They sell their creations to visitors or at events outside the community. However, the group’s dream is to develop a community tourism project, in which they could welcome foreigners and share their culture with them, while also selling their products. More precisely, they would like to build a tourist lodge including a small shop and a botanical garden of medicinal plants. This resilience strategy is already used in other communities, notably to resist oil exploitation in the Amazon.

Most of the inhabitants of Serena do not have the resources to pursue higher studies, nor opportunities to find salaried positions. The families all tend to their chakras,which provide them with edible products such as plantain and cassava, as well as products they can sell, like cocoa and vanilla. Moreover, they also engage in alluvial gold panning, a non-destructive and traditional way of collecting gold from the river. Nevertheless, the revenues from these activities alone are low, and families need additional income to support their children’s education.

For the women of Yuturi Warmi, their association is not only successful in safeguarding their community but has also helped them feel empowered in their personal lives. Protecting their future as a group has made many of them more comfortable with public speaking and talking to journalists about the threats of extractivism. As confident and driven activists, the Yuturis are changing the perception of Indigenous women living in an extractive zone as unassertive, silent victims.

Community support has also helped those suffering domestic violence to stand up to their husbands. The men in the Serena community initially did not understand why the women were “losing time” crafting jewellery or going to protests instead of doing house chores. But the verbal and physical abuse gradually disappeared once the men understood the benefits of their wives’ resistance. Now, many husbands and sons are actively part of the group and have become important supporters of the cause. 

Can mining be stopped?

Within Ecuador’s government, support for mining remains high.

In April, right-wing president Daniel Noboa won a second term after defeating Luisa González, from the leftist Revolución Ciudadana party. The third candidate in line, Leonidas Iza – who represented the Indigenous party Pachakutik – was eliminated from the presidential race on the first round of the election. Despite its influence, the Ecuadorian Indigenous movement was not able to face the rising conservative political tendencies of the country.

Although a divisive matter, Noboa has gained support through his iron fist approach in dealing with alleged narcotraffickers, deploying more military troops and police in the streets. Organised crime linked to illegal mining and drug trafficking has plagued Ecuador since 2021, making it the most violent country in the region. Noboa’s tough crackdown has therefore been welcomed by a large part of the electorate. However, the first five months of 2025 were registered as the most violent start of the year in Ecuador’s history, with 2361 murders recorded in the first trimester alone, a 65-per cent increase compared to the previous year.

During his mandate, Noboa also promised to boost the country’s weak economy. As he considers the mining and oil sectors crucial to its development, he has already implemented measures to increase the extraction of raw materials. Notably, he has eliminated the Ministry of the Environment, Water, and Ecological Transition (MAATE) and transferred its functions to the Ministry of Energy and Mines. The parliament also recently approved a new law allowing private entities and foreign companies to participate in managing conservation zones. These measures are heavily criticised by Indigenous organisations, which fear that they will lead to unchecked environmental and land rights abuses.

Notably, the low political appetite in Ecuador for curbing mining activities has parallels elsewhere in Latin America, where neoliberal and socialist leaders alike tend to support unrestrained resource extraction. The other Amazonian economies are also heavily dependent on the export of commodities that rely on mining, oil drilling, and intensive agriculture. For instance, Lithium extraction drives Bolivia’s development policy agenda, while in Venezuela, the government has opened large “special economic zones” in Indigenous territories to extract as many resources as possible. This is also the case in Peru, where Dina Boluarte’s authoritarian presidency has enabled a murderous crackdown on Indigenous protesters. Even the progressive administrations of president  Luiz Inácio “Lula” da Silva in Brazil and Gustavo Petro in Colombia have been unable to give up extractivism. These countries’ dependence on commodity exports means abandoning them would lead to grave losses in jobs and revenues while the troublesome process of economic diversification is undertaken, which could in turn lead to popular anger and frustration.

Now, following the conclusion of the trade deal between the EU and Mercosur (of which Ecuador is an associated member), the situation is unlikely to improve for Indigenous communities in the Amazon. The deal will see an increase in EU imports of beef, poultry, sugar and other products from South America, in exchange for European plastics, cars, and pesticides. With reduced tariffs and looser regulations on South American products coming from intensive agriculture, local small-scale farmers from both continents are likely to be disadvantaged. Besides, it can also lead to destructive environmental consequences, notably with more deforestation in the Amazon, to allow for more commodity production.

A ray of hope

In light of these developments, amplifying the voices of affected communities and supporting the fight of Indigenous groups is crucial. Associations such as Yuturi Warmi can inspire a fairer, post-extractive society. The inhabitants of the Serena community are adapting their traditional ways of life to preserve their culture and livelihood in the face of extractivism. And their resilience has allowed them to stay true to their values of reciprocity and community, effectively challenging the endless neoliberal expansion that has taken over much of the Amazon.  

Corina Andi, one of Yuturi Warmi’s elders, asserts: “I will go into history, I tell you, that Mama Curi died like this for herself, for her community. […] That’s why I want to fight for my children who are going to be left here, for my grandchildren.” Her determination is shared by other members of the group, who place the integrity of their land above all else.

Indigenous peoples are the primary guardians of the Earth’s most vital ecosystems. Supporting their struggles is not just an act of solidarity – it is a commitment to protecting life itself. The women of Yuturi Warmi, through their defence of land, culture, and community, offer a living example of what a just and sustainable future can look like. Their resistance reclaims dignity and reminds us that extraction is not the only path.

This article is based on a master’s thesis field research conducted in collaboration with Filippo de Rossi, Margot Tjolle, and the inhabitants of the Serena community in 2024.