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    Teenage Rapper, Rooted in Mapuche Identity, Roars for Indigenous Rights

    MC Millaray, 16, an emerging music star in Chile, uses her fierce lyrics to convey five centuries of struggles by the country’s largest Indigenous group against European colonizers.SANTIAGO, Chile — Just before taking the stage, the teenage Indigenous rapper took a deep breath and composed herself, eyes closed.Her father reached over to pick a sequin from his daughter’s eyelid, but the 16-year-old recoiled with an embarrassed shrug. Then Millaray Jara Collio, or MC Millaray as the young rapper calls herself, spun away and exploded onto the stage with an animated rap about the presence of Chile’s military in the territory of the Mapuche, the country’s largest Indigenous group.MC Millaray’s impassioned performance was delivered at a campaign event in Santiago, Chile’s capital, a few months ago, and just one week before the country would vote on a new constitution. If approved, the constitution would have guaranteed some of the most far-reaching rights for Indigenous people anywhere in the world.Although she was too young to vote in the referendum, MC Millaray was one of hundreds of artists who campaigned in favor of the new charter.“I’m two people in one,” she said after her performance. “Sometimes I feel like a little girl — I play, I have fun and I laugh. Onstage, I say everything through rap. It liberates me: When I get a microphone, I’m a different person.”The new constitution — which would have empowered Chile’s more than two million Indigenous people, 80 percent of whom are Mapuche, to govern their own territories, have more judicial autonomy and be recognized as distinct nations within Chile — was soundly defeated in September.But in the wake of that loss, MC Millaray, an emerging star with more than 25,000 followers on Instagram, is more determined than ever to convey five centuries of Mapuche struggles against European colonizers.“This is not the end,” she said defiantly in the vote’s aftermath. “It’s the beginning of something new that we can build together.”MC Millaray performing with her father, Alexis Jara, during a political rally in August in support of a new constitution.MC Millaray greeting a Mapuche elder after her performance at the rally.Slipping between Spanish and Mapudungun, the Indigenous language she would speak with her maternal great-grandmother, MC Millaray articulates that story with fast-paced, lyrical fury.Her songs decry environmental injustices, yearn for the protection of childhood innocence and honor fallen Mapuche. Above all, she calls for the return of Mapuche ancestral lands, known as Wallmapu, which stretch from Chile’s Pacific seaboard and over the Andes to Argentina’s Atlantic coast.​​Her single “Mi Ser Mapuche,” or “My Mapuche Self,” which came out this year, combines trumpets with the “afafan” — a Mapuche war cry. She sings:“More than 500 years without giving up the fight; there are lands we’ve recovered, but they’re ours, our home; we keep on resisting, they won’t defeat us.”Since the arrival of Spanish conquistadors in the 1500s, the land once controlled by the Mapuche has been substantially whittled down across centuries of invasion, forced removals and purchases. The loss of traditional land accelerated in the 19th century when Chile enticed European migrants to settle its south, promising to give them lands it claimed were unoccupied, but often were populated by the Mapuche.For some, it is Chile’s greatest unsettled debt. To others, it’s a centuries-old impasse without a clear solution.“For me it would be a dream to recover the territory,” MC Millaray said. “I want to give my life to the ‘weichán,’” she said, referring to the fight to regain Wallmapu and traditional Mapuche values. “I want to defend what’s ours.”Millaray, which means “flower of gold” in Mapudungun, grew up with her younger brother and sister in La Pincoya, a hardscrabble barrio on the northern fringes of Santiago, where the walls are splashed with colorful graffiti, and hip-hop and reggaeton blare from the ramshackle homes sprawling up the hillsides.The performance of a traditional Mapuche dance, the “purrun,” at a political rally in August.Carrying a flag with the Mapuche star in Santiago. The area has a strong rap tradition. In the 1980s the Panteras Negras, one of Chile’s first hip-hop groups, formed in nearby Renca, and Andi Millanao, better known as Portavoz, one of Chile’s best-known hip-hop stars, first penned his firebrand political rap in neighboring Conchalí.As a child, Millaray said she would look forward more than anything to traveling south each summer to the Carilao community in the municipality of Perquenco to visit her maternal great-grandmother, spending afternoons splashing in a nearby river or collecting maqui berries in a jar.“When I get to Wallmapu, I feel free and at peace,” she said. “I would learn about what I was and what I represent, what runs through my veins,” she added, referring to the time she spent with her great-grandmother. “I realized how little I knew my fight.”At home in her barrio in Santiago, it was music that most captured her attention, and she would attend the hip-hop workshops that her parents — two rappers who met at a throwdown in La Pincoya — would run for local children. “I grew up in a rap family,” said Millaray. “They were my inspiration.”One afternoon when she was 5, her father, Alexis Jara, now 40, was rehearsing for a show, with his daughter beside him on the bed mouthing along. When he performed that evening, Mr. Jara spotted his daughter sobbing in the crowd, feeling left out.He pulled her up onstage and, sniffling and puffy-eyed, “She transformed — pah! pah! — and started rapping with such force that she stole the limelight,” her father remembered. As her tears vanished, the 5-year-old addressed the crowd: “I represent La Pincoya, I want hands in the air!”“From that day on we never got her down from the stage,” her father said. “Now everything has turned on its head — it’s me asking to join her!”Awaiting the results of the constitutional referendum in September. The new constitution was rejected by 62 percent of voters.A protest in Santiago after the results were announced. By the time she was 7, Millaray had written and recorded her first album, “Pequeña Femenina,” or “Little Feminine,” which she burned onto CDs to sell on public buses while out busking with her father.When they had earned enough money, the two would jump down the back steps of the bus and take the money to play arcade games or buy candy.They still perform together — Mr. Jara an energetic whirl of braids and baggy clothing, his daughter calmer and more precise with her words. “Tic Tac,” the first song they wrote in tandem, remains in their repertoire.It was while she was still in elementary school that she was given the jolt that would strengthen her resolve to take up her ancestors’ fight in her music, and life.In November 2018, her history teacher told the class that Camilo Catrillanca — an unarmed Mapuche man who was shot and killed that month by police in the Temucuicui community in the south of the country — had deserved his fate.“I couldn’t stay quiet,” she remembered. “I stood up, burning with rage, and said: ‘No, nobody deserves to die, and certainly not for defending their territory.’ In that moment I defended what I thought, and it changed me.”At the end of 2021 and in the first half of 2022, the conflict in the Mapuche territories, where a state of emergency has been regularly renewed by governments on both the right and left, was at one of its most tense periods in decades.In addition to peaceful sit-ins by Mapuche activists on privately owned land and at regional government buildings, there were dozens of cases of arson, responsibility for which was claimed by Mapuche resistance groups, as well as attacks on forestry companies.At least seven killings were recorded in the conflict area in 2022, with the victims including both Mapuche activists, like a man on his way to a land occupation, and forestry workers.In March, when Chile’s interior minister visited the community where Mr. Catrillanca was from, she was greeted with the crackle of gunfire and quickly bundled away in a van.When she is not performing, MC Millaray is known as Millaray Jara Collio.MC Millaray, in traditional Mapuche dress, talking to her mother, Claudia Collio, before going onstage at a political rally.In sometimes violent protests against economic inequality that exploded across Chile in October of 2019 — set off by a 4-cent increase in subway fares — Mapuche symbols and slogans were ubiquitous.In Santiago’s main square, demonstrators were greeted by a wooden “chemamüll” statue, traditionally carved by the Mapuche to represent the dead. At the protests, Millaray would rap or stroll among protesters with her hand-painted blue flag bearing the “Wünelfe,” an eight-point star sacred in Mapuche iconography.“We’re more visible now than we have been in my lifetime,” said Daniela Millaleo, 37, a singer-songwriter from Santiago whom MC Millaray counts among her greatest inspirations. “Before it would just be the Mapuche who marched for our rights, but now so many people feel our pain.”After her grueling schedule of performing at campaign events on behalf of the failed constitutional effort — as well as a trip to New York to sing in Times Square as part of Climate Week NYC— MC Millaray is now focusing on recording new material.“I want to reach more people, but I want every verse to contain a message — I don’t want to make music for the sake of it,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter what the style is, I’m always asking myself what more I can say.”“I want to reach more people, but I want every verse to contain a message — I don’t want to make music for the sake of it,” said MC Millaray. 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    Indigenous Voters Mobilize in Midterm Elections

    ANCHORAGE — Tesla Cox’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about watching her state elect its first Alaska Native to Congress this year, and what it could mean for the future.“If we can mobilize our people, we can really shift the way that our world is working for us,” said Ms. Cox, 31, who is Tlingit and gathered late last month with other Alaska Natives for a three-day convention, where their influence as a voting bloc was a major topic of discussion.“Our next steps are not just getting our people to go and vote, but getting our people to be the people that people vote for,” she said.Indigenous voters have become a major power center across the country in recent years, including in 2020, when the Navajo Nation and other Indigenous voters helped flip Arizona for President Biden. This Congress saw the first Native Hawaiian and Alaska Native elected and seated alongside enrolled members of tribes from Oklahoma and Kansas. The Senate confirmed Deb Haaland, a member of the Pueblo of Laguna, as the first Native American to serve as interior secretary.It is a trend that is expected to continue on Tuesday, when races that will determine control of both the House and Senate may come down to razor-thin margins in states with sizable Indigenous populations. There are nearly 90 Indigenous candidates on state and national ballots, according to a database maintained by Indian Country Today, a nonprofit news organization. Those candidates include Markwayne Mullin, an Oklahoma Republican who is likely to become the first Cherokee senator since 1925.“We’ve made a lot of progress in the country and we’ve made progress in the judiciary and in Congress and across the federal administrations,” said Chuck Hoskin Jr., the principal chief of the Cherokee Nation. “For us not to turn out during the midterms would send an unfortunate message to policymakers that our numbers aren’t there.”Alaska Native corporations have offered key endorsements that could help Representative Mary Peltola of Alaska, a Democrat who is Yup’ik, and Senator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska, a Republican who was formally adopted by a clan of the Tlingit tribe, keep their seats in Congress and overcome conservative challengers.Representative Mary Peltola, Democrat of Alaska, is the first Alaska Native in Congress.Ash Adams for The New York TimesSenator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska is the top Republican on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.Brian Adams for The New York TimesThe five major tribal nations in Oklahoma have offered a rare joint endorsement of the Democratic candidate for governor, jolting the race into a tossup, while the Cherokee Nation has reignited its campaign for the United States to fulfill a nearly 200-year-old treaty and seat Kimberly Teehee as their congressional delegate.“We’ve been in a process of people awakening to the power of our collective voice,” said Judith LeBlanc, of the Caddo Nation in Oklahoma, and the executive director of Native Organizers Alliance. “That collective voice can manifest itself as political power on Election Day and in between election days on the issues that we’re advocating for.”The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsElection Day is Tuesday, Nov. 8.House Democrats: Several moderates elected in 2018 in conservative-leaning districts are at risk of being swept out. That could cost the Democrats their House majority.A Key Constituency: A caricature of the suburban female voter looms large in American politics. But in battleground regions, many voters don’t fit the stereotype.Crime: In the final stretch of the campaigns, politicians are vowing to crack down on crime. But the offices they are running for generally have little power to make a difference.Abortion: The fall of Roe v. Wade seemed to offer Democrats a way of energizing voters and holding ground. Now, many worry that focusing on abortion won’t be enough to carry them to victory.The assertion of political power and sovereignty comes as the Supreme Court seems poised to challenge some tribal authorities and protections and Indigenous voters face steep barriers to the ballot box. They could not vote in every state until 1957 and now face increasingly restrictive voting laws passed by state legislatures. Distances to polling stations still could require round trips of 100 or more miles for some voters.In May, a federal judge ruled that South Dakota violated portions of the National Voter Registration Act, which requires state officials to provide voter registration renewal guidance at several state-run agencies.“The majority of voting access laws that were passed since 2020 have all been passed in states where the Native vote is politically significant and it therefore targets Native voters,” Ms. LeBlanc said. “And it has a big impact, especially when it comes to early voting, access to voting, voting locations and transportation to voting locations.”Beyond representation in the highest seats of government, there has been an increased acknowledgment of needs of tribal communities across the country, though lawmakers say far more needs to be done to fulfill their obligations.A document circulated by Democrats on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee noted that lawmakers had approved the largest direct investment in tribal governments in American history in 2021 with passage of the $1.9 trillion stimulus law, and set aside billions of dollars for tribal health care, housing, broadband and transportation. Tribal nations and villages will receive funds through a new program created under the Biden administration to help them relocate and avoid the toll of climate change.People attending the Alaska Native Federation candidates forum in Anchorage last month. All of the top candidates in congressional elections made appearances.Brian Adams for The New York Times“It’s a long game and change doesn’t happen overnight,” said Allie Redhorse Young, of the Navajo Nation and founder of Protect the Sacred, who led voters on horseback to polling stations in 2020 and will lead a similar ride this year. “But as we continue to show up and as we continue to make our voices heard and ensure that our votes are counted, the more we will invest in this change.”In 1955, only one Alaska Native was elected to serve among the 55 delegates at the state’s constitutional convention. Sixty-six years later, Ms. Peltola made history in September as the first Alaska Native elected to Congress, when she was sworn in to finish the remainder of Representative Don Young’s term following his death. She is running for her first full term representing a state where Alaska Natives account for about 15 percent of the population.“It’s a remarkable evolution, really,” said William L. Iggiagruk Hensley, 81, a Democrat who is Inupiaq and served as a state senator. He was among those who were instrumental in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, which set aside about 44 million acres for a dozen regional native corporations in 1971 and elevated Alaska Natives into a pivotal role for the new state’s economy.“Our people have seen the importance of participating in the political process and have done so extensively,” he added.Mr. Hensley, like others who gathered for three days in Anchorage at the Alaska Federation of Natives convention, pointed to the role of Alaska Natives in helping Ms. Murkowski mount a successful write-in campaign in 2010 as another moment that underscored their political might. Ms. Murkowski has worked closely with Senator Brian Schatz, Democrat of Hawaii, to direct millions of dollars to the Indigenous communities in their states as the top lawmakers on the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.William L. Iggiagruk Hensley, Faye Ewan and Tesla Cox.Brian Adams for The New York TimesRyen Aavurauq Richards, who is Inupiaq, said she has seen that change in recent years, in part because Indigenous voters have come together more frequently advocating issues that impact their way of life, from commercial fishing to taking care of their lands. She once felt disconnected from the political process because to her the outcome of races in Alaska appeared predetermined.“The more that all of us tribes come together and discuss these big issues and work on them together — I feel like it has shifted my perspective and I can see a difference,” said Ms. Richards, 34, a peer support specialist based in Palmer.Beyond national representation, Indigenous organizations are urging participation in state elections as they fight to maintain gaming rights as a crucial part of their economy. Communities are also working to keep salmon from going extinct in the Columbia River Basin in the Pacific Northwest.Preservation of natural resources has been particularly acute in Alaska, where attendees at the convention cheered for Ms. Peltola’s emphasis on a “pro-fish” platform and others spoke about how they had become more involved in the push for better subsistence fishing in their regions.“We’re fighting for our salmon, we’re fighting for our food — that’s our way of life,” said Faye Ewan, 68, who lives in the Native Village of Kluti-Kaah and is a longtime champion for Indigenous sovereignty over fishing. “It’s sacred.”But like other elders, she said she had seen a change in the organizing and impact of Indigenous voters.“The younger generation is more educated and more aware of the policies,” Ms. Ewan said. More

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    Qué significa la victoria de Lula en Brasil para el clima

    Durante sus mandatos anteriores, el presidente electo ayudó a reducir las tasas de deforestación en la selva amazónica. Ahora dice que quiere volver a hacerlo.RÍO DE JANEIRO — En las elecciones más reñidas desde que el país regresó a la democracia en 1985, los electores decidieron traer de regreso al expresidente Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, quien hizo del medioambiente una piedra angular de su campaña, y rechazaron al mandatario en funciones, Jair Bolsonaro, cuya presidencia vio un fuerte aumento de la deforestación.“Brasil está listo para reanudar su liderazgo en la lucha contra la crisis climática”, dijo el domingo Da Silva en su discurso a sus seguidores tras la victoria. “Probaremos una vez más que es posible generar riqueza sin destruir el medioambiente”.El compromiso es importante porque Brasil contiene gran parte de la selva del Amazonas. En este momento, el bosque absorbe el dióxido de carbono de la atmósfera que calienta el planeta y lo almacena en las raíces de los árboles, las ramas y el suelo. Según un cálculo, hay de 150.000 a 200.000 millones de toneladas métricas de carbono encerradas en el bosque. Pero eso podría cambiar. Si la deforestación continúa, la selva pronto puede convertirse en un emisor neto de gases de efecto invernadero.La región es también uno de los lugares con mayor biodiversidad en la Tierra, y protegerla es clave para defendernos de una crisis mundial de biodiversidad.De vuelta a una lucha conocida: contra la deforestaciónCuando Lula da Silva asumió el cargo por primera vez en 2003, las tasas de deforestación eran más del doble de lo que son hoy. Él promulgó políticas que las redujeron un 80 por ciento. El ritmo más bajo de deforestación se registró dos años después de su renuncia en 2010.p y alentó a sus partidarios a continuar con la minería ilegal. Las tasas de deforestación comenzaron a dispararse nuevamente. Brasil perdió más de 3 millones de hectáreas de la selva amazónica entre 2019 y 2021.Quemando para limpiar la tierra en el estado de Amazonas en septiembre.Michael Dantas/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesAhora, Da Silva dice que planea reanudar las políticas que redujeron la pérdida de bosques.“Ahora lucharemos por el fin de la deforestación en el Amazonas”, dijo. “Brasil y el planeta necesitan una Amazonía viva”.Pero la resistencia a las políticas para proteger el bosque probablemente será fuerte entre los partidarios de Bolsonaro, tanto en el Congreso como en la Amazonía. Bolsonaro ganó en más de la mitad de los estados que componen la selva.El presidente ha defendido durante mucho tiempo las industrias maderera, minera y ganadera. Si bien son destructivas para el bosque, estas industrias, que a menudo operan de manera ilegal, también brindan algunas de las pocas oportunidades económicas en la región.Fuera de Brasil: el centro de atención está en el sur globalLos dos mandatos de Da Silva como presidente, de 2003 a 2010, estuvieron marcados por iniciativas para reformar los órganos de gobierno mundial, como el Consejo de Seguridad de las Naciones Unidas, y para elevar el perfil de los países en desarrollo en los asuntos mundiales.Hay señales de que podría volver a hacer de esos esfuerzos una prioridad, esta vez con un énfasis especial en los problemas climáticos.Él puede “movilizar a otros países en el sur global para insistir que cualquier reforma que se haga a la gobernanza global asuma el tema del clima con seriedad, pero que esto también tiene aportes de los países en desarrollo”, dijo Adriana Abdenur, quien dirige Plataforma Cipó, una organización de investigación en Brasil que se enfoca en la política climática.Meses antes de las elecciones, los asesores de Da Silva se estaban coordinando con Indonesia y la República Democrática del Congo a fin de presionar a las naciones ricas para que amplíen su financiamiento para proteger a los bosques. Marina Silva, su exministra de Medioambiente, dijo a Reuters el lunes que Da Silva enviaría a un representante a la COP27, la cumbre climática mundial que comienza el domingo en Egipto. Un portavoz de Da Silva dijo que el asunto aún se estaba decidiendo.El principal asesor de asuntos exteriores de Da Silva, Celso Amorim, dijo que el presidente electo también planeaba invitar a los líderes regionales a una cumbre sobre la selva amazónica en 2023. Es una señal de que planea fortalecer la Organización del Tratado de Cooperación Amazónica, lo cual podría facilitar a los países de la región unirse para diseñar estrategias que protejan el bosque y atraigan inversión extranjera para proyectos de desarrollo sostenible.Cuando Da Silva era presidente, Brasil creó uno de los mecanismos más importantes para la cooperación climática en la gestión forestal, el Fondo Amazonía. De 2009 a 2019, Noruega y Alemania donaron más de 1200 millones de dólares al fondo, que se convirtió en uno de los mecanismos de financiación más importantes para las agencias de protección ambiental en Brasil.Bolsonaro disolvió el órgano rector del fondo, que congeló todas sus operaciones, pese a que su gobierno luchaba por combatir los delitos ambientales. El domingo, el ministro de Clima y Medioambiente de Noruega dijo a los periodistas que se pondría en contacto con Da Silva para reanudar la cooperación entre los dos países.Está previsto que Da Silva asuma la presidencia el 1 de enero.Manuela Andreoni, actualmente radicada en Brasil, escribe en el boletín Climate Forward. Anteriormente fue becaria en Rainforest Investigations Network, donde examinó las fuerzas que impulsan la deforestación en la Amazonía. @manuelaandreoni More

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    Brazil’s Presidential Election Will Determine the Planet’s Future

    .fallbackimg:before { content: “”; position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: url(”); opacity: 0.5; background-size: cover; background-position: center; } #bgvideo{ opacity: 0.5; } .mobile-only{ display:block; } .desktop-only{ display:none; } h1.headline.mobile-only{ margin-bottom: 10px; } @media screen and (min-width: 740px){ .fallbackimg:before{ background-image: url(”); opacity: 0.5; } #bgvideo{ opacity: 0.5; } .mobile-only{ display:none; } […] More

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    Brazil’s climate politics are shifting. That matters for the whole planet.

    The Amazon is emerging as a central issue in this year’s presidential campaign. Leaders have taken note.A message from your Climate Forward host: I’d like you to meet Manuela. She’s my partner on Climate Forward, and you’ll hear from her regularly when I’m out on reporting trips and unavailable to write the newsletter. Today, she takes you inside the climate politics of her home country, Brazil. — Somini SenguptaIn Brazil, beef isn’t just food. It’s political. It’s a symbol of dignity and equality, and the price of beef is a kind of barometer of well-being in the country.“Beef is not a privilege for people with money,” former President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said in an interview last year.But now, with elections just months away, da Silva, who is better known as Lula, seems to be taking a more environmentally conscious position. He’s suddenly talking about vegetable barbecues and organic salads.“I broadened my perspective,” he said on Twitter in February. He was not just concerned about whether the average Brazilian could afford a barbecue, Lula said, “but also vegetarian people, who don’t eat meat, being able to eat a good organic salad, us encouraging healthier agriculture in our country.”At 76, and with more than five decades of politics under his belt, Lula is adapting. And his willingness to do so makes it clear that, for the first time, climate and the environment will be at the center of the debates before Brazilians vote for president and the national legislature on Oct. 2.Lula, who led Brazil from 2003 to 2010, is one of the best-known politicians in the developing world. Under his administration, millions rose out of poverty, helped by China’s growing hunger for Brazilian commodities like soybeans and steel.Beef was, in some ways, a thread that ran though his presidency. It became a more frequent part of daily meals and one of the country’s major exports. Lula’s administration poured millions from Brazil’s development bank into meatpacking companies, and those operations, in turn, eventually grew to become major drivers of deforestation in the Amazon.This time around, though, Lula is talking about supporting that “healthier agriculture” he mentioned on Twitter.Izabella Teixeira, who served as one of Lula’s environment ministers, told me the former president always treated climate issues seriously. But she said she saw something new in the way climate and environment issues seem to be gaining prominence in his speeches and debates.“He is looking at it with a modern mind set,” she said. “It is one thing to correct the past, to undo mistakes. It is another thing to affirm new paths.”President Biden similarly made climate a pillar of his campaign, as did Gabriel Boric, who became president of Chile in March. Just a few weeks ago, Colombia’s leftist presidential candidate Gustavo Petro chose an environmental activist as his running mate. The first round of that election is May 29.The choice Brazilians make matters for global climate targets. Brazil is, by some measures, the world’s sixth-biggest emitter of greenhouse gases. More important, though, is why: It is currently slashing its part of the Amazon, the world’s largest rainforest, at a pace not seen in over a decade.Lula’s environmental record is mixed. Back in the day, his administration pushed for new policies that sharply curbed Amazon deforestation, even as agribusiness, including beef, grew. But he seemed to disregard the need for an energy transition, instead refusing to support legislation that would have required Brazil to phase out fossil fuels.Under the current president, Jair Bolsonaro, climate action has been all but abandoned. The recent explosion in deforestation rates, which have angered the world, will unquestionably be one of the main legacies of his presidency.Brazil’s current policies have intensified its climate challenge. And it’s not just because of beef. Soy, the country’s top commodity, is increasing pressure on the Cerrado, the country’s vast tropical savanna. There’s also Brazil’s heavy dependence on oil and steel exports.Bolsonaro’s rise to power is widely seen as a response to a multibillion dollar corruption scandal that upended Brazilian politics years ago. Prosecutors said Lula was implicated at the top of the scandal. He spent 580 days in prison in connection with a conviction that was ultimately overturned.As Lula has clawed his way back into public life, he has refused to acknowledge mistakes in the corruption scandal. When it comes to climate policy, though, he has signaled a willingness to reform his legacy.Earlier this week, speaking to thousands of Indigenous people gathered in a demonstration in Brasília, the capital, he promised to appoint an Indigenous cabinet minister. It would be a first for Brazil, a country where Indigenous people are at the forefront of the environmental movement.Past governments of his Workers’ Party, Lula said, “didn’t do all they should have done” for Indigenous people.So far, Lula has the lead over Bolsonaro, who is seeking re-election, in all the main opinion polls, though the race has been tightening. Hunger, unemployment, inflation and the Covid pandemic will also be major issues during the campaign.But the two candidates’ radically different views on the environment could be crucial. According to a poll in September, 80 percent of voters believe protecting the Amazon rainforest should be a priority for presidential candidates.A majority also said a specific plan to defend the Amazon would increase their willingness to vote for a candidate.California’s plan to eliminate gas cars, if adopted, would very likely set the bar for the broader auto industry.Justin Sullivan/Getty ImagesEssential news from The TimesPhasing out gas cars: Officials in California made public plans to prohibit the sale of new gasoline-powered cars by 2035.White House departure: People close to Gina McCarthy, President Biden’s top climate adviser, say she plans to quit because she is unhappy with the slow pace of progress.Even cactuses aren’t safe: More than half of species could face greater extinction risk by midcentury, a new study found, as rising heat and dryness test the plants’ limits.Antarctic puzzle solved: Researchers say the collapse of the two ice shelves was most likely triggered by vast plumes of warm air from the Pacific.‘Silent victim’ of war: Research on past conflicts suggests that, in addition to the human toll, the Russian invasion of Ukraine could have a profound environmental impact.From the Opinion sectionDitch the gas-powered leaf blower: Get an electric one or just use a rake, Jessica Stolzberg writes.Other stuff we’re followingThe latest issue of National Geographic is all about saving forests.A new analysis showed that many big utilities in America are actively pushing back against climate policies, according to The Washington Post.Banks around the world are abandoning coal projects, except in China, according to Bloomberg.A new podcast from the Food & Environment Reporting Network talks to farmers about what they are doing to adapt to climate change.Parts of the Sacramento Valley in California have received their earliest-ever “red flag” warning for fire danger, Capital Public Radio reported.One TikToker found the transportation of the future.Adélie penguins on an iceberg near Paulet Island at the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula. Tomás MunitaBefore you go: For these birds, location mattersAdélie penguins are having a rough time on the western side of the Antarctic Peninsula, where warming linked to climate change has occurred faster than almost anywhere else on the planet. One researcher called the situation a “train wreck” for the birds. On the eastern side of the peninsula, however, it’s a very different story. Adélie populations there seem to be doing just fine. You can find out why, and see some impressive photos from a recent survey expedition in our article.Thanks for reading. We’ll be back on Tuesday.Claire O’Neill and Douglas Alteen contributed to Climate Forward. Reach us at climateforward@nytimes.com. We read every message, and reply to many! More

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    Elecciones en Ecuador: el ganador no aparece en la boleta

    Su candidato no llegó a la segunda vuelta del domingo, pero el avance del partido indígena Pachakutik en la primera ronda de votación ha transformado la agenda política nacional.TARQUI, Ecuador — Aunque su candidato no está en la boleta electoral, el gran ganador de la segunda vuelta presidencial del domingo en Ecuador estaba claro antes de que se emitiera el primer voto: el movimiento indígena del país que ha sido marginado durante mucho tiempo.El partido indígena y sus aliados sacudieron la nación en la primera ronda electoral en febrero, al ganar la mitad de todos los estados, con lo que se convirtieron en la segunda presencia más grande en el Congreso y transformaron la agenda de los finalistas de la contienda presidencial del domingo: el izquierdista Andrés Arauz y el conservador Guillermo Lasso.“La política ecuatoriana nunca será la misma”, aseveró Farith Simon, profesor de Derecho y columnista ecuatoriano. “Todavía hay racismo, pero también hay una reivindicación del valor de la cultura indígena, del orgullo en su papel nacional”.Ansiosos por atraer a los votantes indígenas y conscientes de la necesidad de trabajar con el nuevo y poderoso bloque indígena en el Congreso, Arauz y Lasso renovaron sus mensajes y desplazaron la contienda de la discusión polarizadora centrada en el socialismo versus el conservadurismo que ha definido la política nacional durante años. En vez de eso, los debates giran en torno a la desigualdad tan arraigada en Ecuador y a un modelo económico que depende de la exportación de petróleo y la extracción minera en las tierras indígenas.Ambos candidatos han prometido promulgar mayores protecciones medioambientales y conceder a las comunidades indígenas más poder de decisión sobre la extracción de recursos. Lasso, un banquero de 66 años, se comprometió a mejorar las oportunidades económicas de los indígenas que, a pesar de décadas de progreso, están muy por debajo del promedio nacional en el acceso a la educación, la atención sanitaria y el empleo.Ambos candidatos han prometido más salvaguardas ambientales y otorgar a las comunidades indígenas participación en las decisiones de extracción de recursos.Johanna Alarcón para The New York TimesArauz, de 36 años, un economista que lideró la contienda durante la primera ronda electoral, prometió gobernar Ecuador como un verdadero país “plurinacional” en reconocimiento de sus 15 naciones indígenas. La designación, aunque más bien simbólica, había sido solicitada durante décadas por Pachakutik, el partido indígena del país, como un poderoso reconocimiento del lugar central que ocupa su pueblo en Ecuador.El ascenso de Pachakutik en la escena nacional no solo llamó la atención de la minoría indígena del país, sino que también planteó cuestiones de identidad más profundas para todo el electorado. Aunque solo el ocho por ciento de los ecuatorianos se identificó como indígena en el último censo, gran parte de la población es mestiza.“Esta es una conversación difícil para nosotros como nación, pero no hay vuelta atrás”, afirmó Simon.El principal responsable del cambio político es el activista medioambiental Yaku Pérez, el candidato presidencial de Pachakutik en la primera ronda electoral de febrero.Pérez, de 52 años, se quedó fuera de la segunda ronda por muy poco, pero amplió en gran medida el atractivo histórico de Pachakutik con su apoyo a los derechos de la mujer, la igualdad de las personas que pertenecen a la comunidad LGBTQ y los esfuerzos para luchar contra el cambio climático. Pérez también apoyó el derecho al aborto y el matrimonio entre personas del mismo sexo, lo que creó tensiones dentro de su electorado indígena, socialmente conservador.Partidarios de Pachakutik en febrero. Yaku Pérez, el candidato a la presidencia de Pachakutik, por poco se perdió la segunda vuelta, pero amplió enormemente el atractivo de su partido.Rodrigo Buendia/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images“Yaku Pérez tuvo una enorme capacidad para abrir sus horizontes, su discurso, para incorporar otros temas que no habían estado ahí” en la política ecuatoriana, comentó Alberto Acosta, excandidato presidencial de Pachakutik.El ascenso de Pérez forma parte de un cambio generacional más extenso en los movimientos de izquierda de Latinoamérica. Impulsados en parte por las redes sociales y las protestas políticas en Estados Unidos, donde la mayoría de los países latinoamericanos cuentan con grandes diásporas, los políticos más jóvenes de la izquierda están dando prioridad a los temas relacionados con el medioambiente, el género y las minorías frente a la doctrina marxista de sus mentores.En el vecino Perú, Verónika Mendoza, de 40 años, figura entre los principales contendientes a la presidencia en las elecciones del domingo, y como parte de su plataforma promete conceder títulos de propiedad a las comunidades indígenas y proteger el medioambiente. En Bolivia, la lideresa indígena Eva Copa, de 34 años, ganó hace poco la alcaldía de El Alto, una ciudad que es un crisol de culturas y que se considera un referente.Esta nueva generación de líderes va más allá de la tradicional división izquierda-derecha y desafía la dependencia histórica que tienen sus países en los grandes proyectos mineros, petroleros y agroindustriales para el crecimiento económico, afirmó Carwil Bjork-James, antropólogo de la Universidad de Vanderbilt en Tennessee.“Se trata de grandes cuestiones continentales que los movimientos indígenas han planteado desde hace mucho tiempo”, señaló Bjork-James. “Ver que estas preguntas se plantean en la esfera política es un nuevo nivel”.Sus rivales afirman que este marco de referencia es corto de miras. Las naciones sudamericanas no tienen otra alternativa que depender de los ingresos procedentes de las materias primas para recuperarse de la pandemia. Y solo a través del desarrollo económico, dicen, se pueden abordar plenamente las desigualdades.En Ecuador, Pérez consiguió casi el veinte por ciento de los votos en febrero, pero su partido, Pachakutik, y sus aliados pasaron de nueve a 43 escaños en el Congreso, con lo que se convirtieron en los líderes de la fracturada legislatura de 137 escaños.En un principio, la campaña se centró en el legado de Rafael Correa, el presidente democrático que más tiempo ocupó el cargo en Ecuador. Durante el auge de las materias primas en la década de 2000 sacó a millones de personas de la pobreza, pero su estilo autoritario y las acusaciones de corrupción en su contra dejaron a la nación sumida en una amarga división.Andrés Arauz, candidato de izquierda, en un acto de campaña en Quito la semana pasada. Presentó un mensaje especial para los votantes indígenas. Cristina Vega Rhor/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesCorrea, quien dejó el cargo en 2017, eligió a Arauz para que representara su movimiento de izquierda este año, lo cual catapultó a este hombre de 36 años a la cima de las encuestas a pesar de su limitada experiencia y reconocimiento nacional. Lasso centró su mensaje de campaña inicial en el temor de que Correa siguiera ejerciendo su influencia.Sin embargo, los resultados de la primera vuelta demostraron “que gran parte de la población no se deja encasillar en aquel enfrentamiento de correístas y anticorreístas, que es muy simple y limita los problemas ecuatorianos a una visión binaria”, comentó Acosta, el excandidato.El éxito electoral de Pachakutik se deriva de una ola de protestas nacionales en octubre de 2019, cuando el movimiento indígena marchó en Quito, la capital, para exigir la derogación de un muy impopular recorte del subsidio a la gasolina. Las protestas se tornaron violentas y en ellas murieron al menos ocho personas, pero el gobierno retiró el recorte del subsidio tras doce días de disturbios.“Eso ha demostrado que los pueblos indígenas estamos buscando la transformación de este sistema dominante, capitalista que busca solamente atender a los sectores más pudientes”, declaró Diocelinda Iza, lideresa de la nación quichua en la provincia central de Cotopaxi.La vida de Pérez, candidato a la presidencia, refleja las penurias del movimiento indígena. Nació en un valle alto de los Andes, en el sur de Ecuador, en una familia de campesinos empobrecidos. Su padre era quichua y su madre cañari.Guillermo Lasso, el candidato conservador, en campaña en Guayaquil. También ha ampliado su plataforma.Rodrigo Buendia/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesSus padres trabajaban en la finca de un terrateniente local sin remuneración, a cambio de vivir en su propiedad, un acuerdo rural que ha cambiado poco desde la época colonial.De su infancia, Pérez dice que recuerda el trabajo aparentemente interminable en el campo, las punzadas de hambre y la humillación que sentía en la escuela cuando su madre acudía a las reuniones de padres vestida con faldas tradicionales.“Yo sentía mucha vergüenza de ser indígena, de venir del campo, de ser campesino, de mi padre ser chacarero”, declaró Pérez en una entrevista en marzo. Para tener éxito en la escuela, “uno terminaba blanqueándose, colonizándose, renegando de nuestra identidad”.Pérez acabó estudiando en una universidad local, ejerciendo el derecho e involucrándose en la política a través de asociaciones locales que defienden los derechos comunales del agua. Ascendió hasta convertirse en gobernador de la región ecuatoriana de Azuay, la quinta más poblada del país, antes de renunciar para presentarse a la presidencia.Su historia resuena en otros indígenas, muchos de los cuales ven los esfuerzos políticos actuales en el contexto de los cinco siglos transcurridos desde la conquista colonial de Ecuador.“No lo hacemos por una persona”, dijo la dirigente indígena, Luz Namicela Contento, “sino por un proyecto político”.José María León Cabrera More

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    Indigenous Party, Not on the Ballot, Is Still a Big Winner in Ecuador Election

    Its candidate didn’t reach Sunday’s presidential runoff, but the party’s powerful showing in the first round of voting has transformed the national agenda.TARQUI, Ecuador — Though its candidate is not on the ballot, one big winner in Sunday’s presidential runoff in Ecuador was clear before the first vote was cast: the nation’s long-marginalized Indigenous movement.The Indigenous party and its allies jolted the nation in the first round of voting in February, winning half of all states, becoming the second-largest presence in Congress and transforming the agenda of the finalists in Sunday’s presidential race, the leftist Andrés Arauz and the conservative Guillermo Lasso.“The politics of Ecuador will never be the same,” said Farith Simon, an Ecuadorean law professor and columnist. “There’s still racism, but there’s also a re-vindication of the value of Indigenous culture, of pride in their national role.”Eager to court Indigenous voters and mindful of the need to work with the newly powerful Indigenous bloc in Congress, Mr. Arauz and Mr. Lasso have revamped their messages and shifted the contest from the polarizing socialist-versus-conservative ground that has defined national politics for years. Debates are emerging instead on Ecuador’s deep-seated inequality and on an economic model reliant on the export of oil and metals extracted from Indigenous lands.Both candidates have promised to enact greater environmental safeguards and to grant Indigenous communities more say over the extraction of resources. Mr. Lasso, 66, a banker, has vowed to improve economic opportunities for Indigenous people, who, despite decades of progress, lag far behind national averages in access to education, health care and jobs.Both candidates have promised to enact greater environmental safeguards and to grant Indigenous communities more say over the extraction of resources. Johanna Alarcon for The New York TimesMr. Arauz, 36, an economist who led in the first round of voting, has promised to lead Ecuador as a true “plurinational” country in recognition of its 15 Indigenous nations. Though largely symbolic, the designation had been sought for decades by the country’s Indigenous party, Pachakutik, as a powerful acknowledgment of its people’s central place in Ecuador.The rise of Pachakutik on the national stage has not only brought attention to the country’s Indigenous minority, it has posed deeper questions of identity for the entire electorate. Though just 8 percent of Ecuadoreans identified themselves as Indigenous in the last census, much of the population is ethnically mixed.“This is a difficult conversation for us as a nation, but there’s no turning back,” Mr. Simon said.The man most responsible for the political sea change has been the environmental activist Yaku Pérez, the Pachakutik presidential candidate in February’s first round of voting.Mr. Pérez, 52, narrowly missed the runoff, but he greatly broadened Pachakutik’s historic single-digit appeal with his support for women’s rights, equality for L.G.B.T.Q. people and efforts to fight climate change. Mr. Pérez also backed abortion rights and same-sex marriage, creating tensions inside his socially conservative Indigenous constituency.Pachakutik supporters in February. Yaku Pérez, the Pachakutik presidential candidate, narrowly missed the runoff, but he greatly broadened the party’s appeal.Rodrigo Buendia/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images“Pérez had an enormous capacity to open his horizons, his discourse, to incorporate themes that weren’t there” in Ecuadorean politics, said Alberto Acosta, a former Pachakutik presidential candidate.Mr. Pérez’s rise is part of a larger generational shift in Latin America’s leftist movements. Partly driven by social media and political protests in the United States, where most Latin American nations have large diasporas, younger left-leaning politicians are prioritizing environment, gender and minority issues over the Marxist doctrine of their mentors.In neighboring Peru, Verónika Mendoza, 40, is among the top contenders in Sunday’s presidential election, promising to grant land titles to Indigenous communities and protect the environment. In Bolivia, the 34-year-old Indigenous leader Eva Copa recently won a mayor’s race in El Alto, a melting-pot city considered a bellwether.This new generation of leaders is going beyond the traditional left-right divide, challenging their countries’ historic reliance on large mining, oil and agribusiness projects for economic growth, said Carwil Bjork-James, an anthropologist at Vanderbilt University in Tennessee.“These are big continental questions that the Indigenous movements have been asking for a long time,” Mr. Bjork-James said. “To see these questions being asked politically is a new level.”Such a framework is shortsighted, their rivals say. South American nations have no alternative but to rely on revenue from raw materials to recover from the pandemic. And only through economic development, they say, can inequalities be fully addressed.In Ecuador, Mr. Pérez managed to win nearly 20 percent of February’s vote, but his party and its allies soared from nine to 43 congressional seats in the election, becoming kingmakers in the country’s fractured 137-seat legislature.The campaign had initially focused on the legacy of Rafael Correa, Ecuador’s longest-serving democratic president. He had lifted millions from poverty during a commodities boom in the 2000s, but his authoritarian style and the corruption allegations that trailed him had left the nation bitterly divided.Andrés Arauz, a leftist candidate for president, campaigning in Quito last week. He has tailored a message for Indigenous voters.Cristina Vega Rhor/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesMr. Correa, who left office in 2017, picked Mr. Arauz to represent his leftist movement this year, catapulting the 36-year-old to the top of the polls despite his limited experience and national recognition. Mr. Lasso centered his early campaign message on fears that Mr. Correa would continue to exert influence.But the first-round results “showed that a great part of the population doesn’t want to be boxed into this conflict between Correa’s supporters and opponents, which reduces Ecuadoreans’ problems to a binary vision,” said Mr. Acosta, the former candidate.Pachakutik’s electoral success this year traces to a wave of national protests in October 2019, when the Indigenous movement marched on the capital, Quito, to demand the repeal of a deeply unpopular cut in gasoline subsidies. The protests turned violent, claiming at least eight lives, but the government withdrew the subsidy cut after 12 days of unrest.“We showed the country that the Indigenous people are looking for a transformation of this dominant system that only serves the most affluent,” said Diocelinda Iza, a leader of the Kichwa nation in the central province of Cotopaxi.The life of Mr. Pérez, the presidential candidate, embodies the travails of the Indigenous movement. He was born in a high Andean valley in southern Ecuador to a family of impoverished farmers. His father was Kichwa, his mother Kañari.Guillermo Lasso, the conservative, campaigning in Guayaquil. He, too, is broadening his platform.Rodrigo Buendia/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesHis parents worked on the estate of a local landowner without pay in return for living on his property, a rural arrangement that has changed little since colonial times.From his childhood, Mr. Pérez said he remembers the seemingly endless toil in the fields, the pangs of hunger, and the humiliation he felt at school when his mother came to parent meetings dressed in traditional skirts.“I felt a lot of shame to be Indigenous, to come from the field, to be a farmer, to have a sharecropper father,” Mr. Pérez said in an interview in March. To succeed at school, he said, “I ended up whitening myself, colonizing myself, rejecting our identity.”Mr. Pérez ended up studying at a local university, practicing law and becoming involved in politics through local associations defending communal water rights. He rose to become the governor of Ecuador’s Azuay region, the country’s fifth-most populous, before quitting to run for president.His story has resonated with other Indigenous people, many of whom see the political efforts of today in the context of the five centuries since Ecuador’s colonial conquest.“We’re not campaigning for a person,” said one Indigenous leader, Luz Namicela Contento, “but for a political project.”Jose María León Cabrera reported from Tarqui, Ecuador, and Anatoly Kurmanaev from Moscow. Mitra Taj contributed reporting from Lima, Peru. More