COP30: 'We must get to the negotiating tables'
Community journalist Juliana Albuquerque is actually most comfortable behind the microphone. In the small Amazonian town of São Gabriel da Cachoeira on the Rio Negro, her voice is familiar and valued – as a neighbor, an Indigenous person and as a woman. Yet unusual topics call for unusual measures.
When Albuquerque complained once again a few months ago about the garbage littering the city beach, a colleague gave her a crazy idea.
"Environmental issues have always been important to me, so I finally grabbed my camera, took a photo of the trash in the river and captioned it ‘Come and discover the beauty of São Gabriel da Cachoeira’ – the slogan used by the local tourism office," Albuquerque recalls. Her friends posted the picture online and the fake ad went viral.
The mayor was furious and launched an investigation for defamation, but the public reaction went in a different direction. Albuquerque received an outpouring of praise for her action. Soon after, residents collected eight tons of trash over two clean-up events.
Journalism for public good
The story illustrates Albuquerque’s overall approach to her work. The means vary, but the goal is always the same, namely the welfare of her community and the protection of the 23 Indigenous groups in her district.
It is this commitment that led the 39-year-old to journalism in a roundabout way. After school, Albuquerque initially worked as a dental technician in a public clinic. There, she witnessed how people were denied treatment because they were not correctly registered as residents.
In the spur of the moment, she switched jobs to become a secretary “at the last notary's office before the Venezuelan border, the only place in the area that could issue such formal documents.” Albuquerque explained that she helped dozens of people obtain the necessary documents, until a new boss started charging high fees for processing them.
Despite being promoted, Albuquerque resigned. "For me, the work there no longer made sense," she said.
In the meantime, the regional office of women’s affairs had become aware of her and hired her to manage a monthly printed newsletter. "I was supposed to tell stories about women and their work in the communities, which often goes unrecognized there," Albuquerque recalls. The job was a completely new territory for her.
To get to know the women and accompany them in their everyday lives, she traveled to remote villages, often three days away by boat. "It was an incredible experience, I was on the road almost the entire time," she recalls. She spent her time researching and distributing the printed newsletter in places where information is usually passed on orally, where access to the Internet is infrequent at best.
A media network against disinformation and hate speech
Albuquerque witnessed how the lack of reliable news had become a serious problem for communities. Politicians and companies deliberately spread rumors, while people return from their visits to São Gabriel da Cachoeira with more than just oil and sugar. They also bring back plenty of fake news in the WhatsApp groups on their cell phones.
It is not uncommon for disinformation to be used to discredit inconvenient Indigenous community representatives or environmental activists in order to make it easier to push through controversial mining or cattle ranching projects. When animosities became overwhelming in 2017, citizens and journalists founded the media network Rede Wayuri.
Rede Wayuri's media strategy is based on oral Indigenous culture. To counter the mostly anonymous and vague accusations with facts and integrity, she started a weekly radio show – instead of heading to social media. They quickly found a private local radio station that gave them airtime in exchange for payment. Yet no one had any experience with this kind of format, not even Albuquerque.
But when Albuquerque was asked, she agreed after some hesitation. "I thought about it for many nights. Should I do it? Do I have the courage? But it was an opportunity to defend our rights, our land, our forest. I wanted to raise my children where I used to swim in the river as a child."
Her audience grew rapidly. Recordings of the broadcasts circulated on USB sticks. Then, COVID-19 arrived and the information provided by Rede Wayuri became literally vital.
"Some volunteers drove through the streets with loudspeaker trucks," Albuquerque reflected. "Others translated short news programs into Indigenous languages and passed on practical tips via radio. They were on the front lines. They weren't part of the healthcare system, but they were there every day, giving people guidance."
Rede Wayuri has long had the capacity for more than one live broadcast and a few news clips per week. But setting up their own station would have been too expensive and obtaining a license would have been a lengthy process. So, in 2022, they resorted to an uncertain alternative: internet radio. Would their audience follow them there? Would they lose their hard-won influence in the vastness of the web?
Three years later, Albuquerque reflects positively on their choice. Various programs are offered live or as podcasts and are also shared on social media. "The fact that access to the Internet has improved has worked in our favor. In some places, people are also setting up so-called community networks to provide sustainable internet connectivity together. And sometimes people just connect their cell phones to a speaker and everyone listens together."
Cast off
Reporting on the climate conference in an understandable way
The reason for Rede Wayuri’s success was demonstrated once again in the run-up to the COP30 World Climate Conference, taking place this year in the Amazon metropolis of Belém.
"We report on complex topics such as CO2 certificates in our language, not in technical jargon. We translate the context of COP30 into the everyday world of Indigenous communities so that they can understand what is being negotiated there and how it affects them," Albuquerque explains.
This is a challenge, she says, but at the same time very satisfying. "We also relay reports of environmental crimes via the radio. Illegal gold mining is a problem throughout the Amazon and local politicians quickly become accomplices. We use the voice of radio to make this public."
This work is not without danger. There have been repeated threats, but fortunately no attacks so far, which has not been the case for other Indigenous media workers on their way to COP30.
For months, community media, indigenous activists, environmentalists and their allies have been mobilizing to ensure that the World Climate Conference does not just use the Brazilian rainforest as a green backdrop. Many delegations travel on small boats, using the time on board to exchange ideas and plan coordinated reporting.
Albuquerque has a special task on board the Karolina do Norte, the ship belonging to the Brazilian NGO and DW Akademie partner organization Projeto Saúde e Alegria. She advises an emerging transregional media project that curates programs from various community media outlets with the aim of promoting their exchange of news, knowledge and music.
"People should recognize themselves in others, realize that they are not alone," Albuquerque says. She is certain that this is the only way to bring about lasting change in environmental protection and other issues. "We know that we have a difficult position at COP30. But we must at least try to get to the negotiating tables. It won't have an immediate effect. But we will make the demands of those most affected by climate collapse heard. They must resonate and be at the top of the agenda at the next climate conference."
