BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — A week before what indigenous people now call the Crenac “Death of the River” they say they felt it coming. The birds stopped singing, the air became heavy and an unusual silence fell over their village in Minas Gerais, a southeastern Brazilian state where wooded hills give way to the winding Doce River.
Then, on November 5, 2015, the dirt came.
A mining dam owned by Samarco – a joint venture between Brazilian company Vale and Anglo-Australian giant BHP Billiton – burst upstream near the town of Mariana, releasing a stream of toxic iron ore waste. It buried the nearby community of Bento Rodriguez and swept through the Doce River valley. murder of 19 people and pollute waterways for nearly 600 kilometers (370 miles) before reaching the Atlantic Ocean.
For the Krenak people, who once relied on the river for food, ritual and daily life, the damage was not only environmental but also spiritual.
“This was the saddest day for my people,” said Shirley Jukurnah Krenak, an indigenous leader whose community has lived along the Doce River for generations. “We felt the death of the river before it came.”
The Marianas disaster released some 40 million tons of mining waste into the Doce Basin, destroying one of Brazil's most ancient river systems, whose valley had shaped the landscape of Minas Gerais for millions of years.
Ten years later, reconstruction and damage compensation have been delayed by legal disputes, and the river remains polluted with heavy metals. Local communities say little has changed, even as Brazil seeks to establish itself as a leader in global climate policy by hosting the UN COP30 climate summit – an event that some are skeptical of change.
“For us, the fight is not about performing at COP,” Krenak said. “It's about survival.”
Testing the credibility of Brazil's climate policy
Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva now hopes to cement his reputation as a global leader on the environment at COP30 in Belém, in the heart of the Amazon. Still, according to Mauricio Guetta, director of legal policy at the advocacy group Avaaz, Mariana's unresolved legacy and other recent policy moves show the difference between Brazil's climate discourse and reality.
“It's counterintuitive for a country that wants to be a climate leader to continue to pass laws that reduce protections for nature and the rights of indigenous peoples,” he said, adding that indigenous territories are among the world's most effective barriers against deforestation.
Indigenous congresswoman Celia Xacriaba, who represents the state of Minas Gerais, said the tragedy remains “a crime that is still ongoing.”
“The Doce River is still sick. The fish are contaminated, people are sick and children are still asking when the river will get better,” she said. “You can’t bring back 19 lives and you can’t bring back a healthy river.”
Xacriaba said the lack of justice for Mariana's victims was undermining Brazil's credibility ahead of the summit.
“It’s hard to talk about climate leadership when the state where this crime happened hasn’t even recovered,” she said. “True environmental policy begins with justice for those who suffer its consequences.”
Following the 2015 crash, the state of Minas Gerais relaxed its environmental licensing laws. According to Guetta, this move directly contributed to Brumadinho caused the disaster in 2019as a result of which 270 people died.
In October 2024, the Brazilian government and the states of Minas Gerais and Espirito Santo signed an agreement. Settlement with Samarco worth R$132 billion ($23 billion)the mine operator and its owners, Vale and BHP, to fund social and environmental repairs. The record deal, which will total payouts of 170 billion reais ($30 billion), includes aid to affected communities, but critics say deeper shortcomings remain in Brazil's environmental governance.
“The Mariana Island disaster showed how fragile Brazil's environmental control system really is,” Guetta said. “Instead of learning from this, we have seen a process of deregulation.”
In 2023, the Brazilian Congress approved legislation limiting indigenous claims to land. passed this year what campaigners are calling a “devastatement bill” that would weaken environmental licensing across the country. Environmentalists warn that both threaten to undermine the country's own climate goals under the Paris Agreement, a 2015 global pact to cut greenhouse gas emissions and limit global warming.
Now Brazil's Congress is also considering a national bill that would further weaken oversight of mining and industrial projects and “virtually destroy Brazil's environmental licensing system,” Guetta said.
He added that Brazil's environmental agencies remain underfunded and understaffed, even as mining and agribusiness move deeper into fragile ecosystems.
Brazil's Environment Ministry did not respond to requests for comment.
Skepticism about the “Native Cop”
Krenak told The Associated Press that her community will not attend COP30. She sees the climate summit as being far removed from the realities facing indigenous peoples and full of greenwashing and false promises.
“If all the previous police officers had worked, we would still not be talking about crimes like this,” she said.
Instead, she says real climate action starts with protecting rivers and forests and recognizing indigenous territories.
Anthropologist Ana Magdalena Hurtado, who has worked with indigenous peoples in South America for decades, said she shares those concerns.
“My concern is that it all looks very nice, but the people who will walk away feeling great are urban scientists and policymakers, not those who live in remote areas,” said Hurtado, a professor of anthropology and global health at Arizona State University.
She said making space for indigenous voices at COP30 was a welcome step, but warned that inclusion without follow-up could do more harm than good.
As COP30 begins, many indigenous leaders share this skepticism but remain hopeful.
“I still believe change is possible,” Krenak said. “One day our children will be able to drink a glass of water without fear of dying.”
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Associated Press writer Melina Walling contributed to this report from Chicago.
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