• Opinion by Claudia Ignacio Álvarez (michoacÁn, mexico)
• Thursday, December 18, 2025
• Inter Press Service

MICHOACÁN, Mexico , December 18 (IPS) - My niece Roxana Valentín Cárdenas was 21 years old when she was killed. She was a Purépecha Indigenous woman from San Andrés Tziróndaro, a community on the shores of Lake Pátzcuaro in the Mexican state of Michoacán.

Roxana was killed during a peaceful march organised by another Indigenous community commemorating the recovery of their lands. Forty-six years earlier, three people had been murdered during that same land struggle. This time, the commemoration was once again met with gunfire.

Roxana was not armed and was not participating in the march. She encountered the demonstration and was struck by gunfire. Her death was deeply personal, but it took place within a broader context of long-standing violence linked to land and territory.

That violence has intensified in Michoacán recently, where the assassination of a mayor in November this year underscored how deeply insecurity has penetrated public life and how little protection exists for civilians, community leaders and local authorities alike.

Across Mexico, Indigenous people are being killed for defending land, water and forests. What governments and corporations often describe as “development” is experienced by our communities as dispossession enforced by violence – through land grabbing, water theft and the silencing of those who resist.

A way of life under threat
I come from San Andrés Tziróndaro, a farming, fishing and musical community. For generations, we have cared for the lake and the surrounding forests as collective responsibilities essential to life. That way of life is now under threat.

In Michoacán, extractive pressure takes different forms. In some Indigenous territories, it is mining. In our region, it is agro-industrial production, particularly avocados and berries grown for export. Communal land intended for subsistence is leased for commercial agriculture. Water is extracted from Lake Pátzcuaro through irregularly installed pipes to irrigate agricultural fields, depriving local farmers of access.

Agrochemicals contaminate soil and water, forests are deliberately burned to enable land-use change, and ecosystems are transformed into monocultures that consume vast amounts of water. This is not development. It is extraction.

Violence as a method of enforcement
When Indigenous communities resist these processes, violence follows.

Two cases illustrate this reality and remain unresolved.

José Gabriel Pelayo, a human rights defender and member of our organisation, has been forcibly disappeared for more than a year. Despite an urgent action issued by the United Nations Committee on Enforced Disappearances, progress has been blocked. Authorities have delayed access to the investigation file, and meaningful search efforts have yet to begin. His family continues to wait for answers.

Eustacio Alcalá Díaz, a defender from the Nahua community of San Juan Huitzontla, was murdered after opposing mining operations imposed on his territory without consultation. After his killing, the community was paralysed by fear, and it was no longer possible to continue human rights work safely.

Together, these cases show how violence and impunity are used to suppress community resistance.

Militarisation is not protection
It is against this backdrop of escalating violence and impunity that the Mexican state has once again turned to militarisation. Thousands of soldiers are being deployed to Michoacán, and authorities point to arrests and security operations as indicators of stability.

In practice, militarisation often coincides with areas of high extractive interest. Security forces are deployed in regions targeted for mining, agro-industrial expansion or large infrastructure projects, creating conditions that allow these activities to proceed while community resistance is contained.

Indigenous people experience this not as protection, but as surveillance, intimidation and criminalisation. While companies may claim neutrality, they benefit from these security arrangements and rarely challenge the violence or displacement that accompanies them, raising serious questions about corporate complicity.

A global governance failure
Indigenous territories are opened to extractive industries operating across borders, while accountability remains fragmented. Corporations divide their operations across jurisdictions, making responsibility for environmental harm and human rights abuses difficult to establish.

Voluntary corporate commitments have not prevented violence or environmental degradation. National regulations remain uneven and weakly enforced, particularly in regions affected by corruption and organised crime. This is not only a national failure. It is a failure of global governance.

International responsibility, now
In this context, I have recently spent ten days in the United Kingdom with the support of Peace Brigades International (PBI), meeting with parliamentarians, officials from the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office, and civil society organisations.

These discussions are part of a broader international effort to ensure that governments whose companies, financial systems or diplomatic relationships are linked to extractive activities take responsibility for preventing harm and protecting those at risk.

While the UK is only one actor, its policies on corporate accountability and support for human rights defenders have consequences far beyond its borders.

Why binding international rules are necessary
For years, Indigenous peoples and civil society organisations have called for a binding United Nations treaty on business and human rights. The urgency of this demand is reflected in the lives lost defending land and water and in the defenders who remain disappeared.

A binding treaty could require mandatory human rights and environmental due diligence across global supply chains, guarantee access to justice beyond national borders, and recognise the protection of human rights defenders as a legal obligation. It could make Free, Prior and Informed Consent enforceable rather than optional.

Such a treaty would not prevent development. It would ensure that development does not depend on violence, dispossession and impunity.

Defending life for everyone
Indigenous peoples are not obstacles to progress. We are defending ecosystems that sustain life far beyond our territories. Indigenous women are often at the forefront of this defence, even as we face extraordinary risks.

When defenders disappear, when others are murdered, and when young women like my niece lose their lives, it is not only our communities that suffer. The world loses those protecting land, water and biodiversity during a deep ecological crisis.

Defending life and land should not come at the cost of human lives.

Claudia Ignacio Álvarez is an Indigenous Purépecha feminist, lesbian, and environmental human rights defender from San Andrés Tziróndaro, Michoacán. Through the Red Solidaria de Derechos Humanos, she supports Indigenous and rural communities defending their territories from extractive industries and organised crime. Her work has been supported by Peace Brigades International (PBI) since 2023.

IPS UN Bureau

© Inter Press Service (20251218064543) — All Rights Reserved. Original source: Inter Press Service

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