Symposium on Advisory Opinion AO-32/25 on the Climate Emergency and Human Rights: Indigenous Peoples, Consultation, and Climate Governance

[Milagros Mutsios Ramsay is a J.S.D. Candidate at Yale Law School. She currently serves as the Legal Advisor to the Presidency of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights]

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights’ Advisory Opinion OC-32/25 on Climate Emergency and Human Rights constitutes one of the most ambitious legal articulations of State’s obligations in the era of climate crisis. This contribution examines whether this Opinion provides adequate procedural protections for Indigenous Peoples, particularly in relation to participatory rights and land tenure.

The request by Chile and Colombia was not a neutral exercise in abstract legal clarification. By explicitly asking the Court to determine “the scope of the relevant obligations […] to address the situations arising from the climate emergency, including its causes and consequences” (para. 16), the requesting States recognized that climate change already generates differentiated and disproportionate harms. In particular, they acknowledged that the most acute impacts fall on communities whose vulnerability is structurally determined by geography, socioeconomic inequality, climate exposure, and infrastructural deficits (para. 2). In doing so, they invited the Court to go beyond general mitigation duties and articulate specific standards of protection for vulnerable groups (para. 27), including Indigenous Peoples.

In this context, the Advisory Opinion marks a turning point in the recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ rights within international human rights law. It does so by rejecting a one-dimensional framing: Indigenous Peoples are not only portrayed as vulnerable to the destructive effects of climate change but also as active stewards of ecosystems and contributors to climate governance through their traditional knowledge. This dual recognition, of vulnerability and agency, anchors the Court’s reasoning and signals a departure from earlier approaches that tended to emphasize protection without fully acknowledging Indigenous Peoples’ role as rights-holders and decision-makers.

Although formally grounded in the American Convention on Human Rights (ACHR), the Opinion’s findings carry broader resonance. The Court treats participatory mechanisms, land tenure, and procedural guarantees not as ancillary safeguards but as integral to the architecture of climate governance. In doing so, it effectively elevates Indigenous rights from the margins of environmental law to the core of legal strategies for addressing the climate emergency. Moreover, by clarifying that the standards articulated in the Opinion bind all Organization of American States (OAS) Member States (para. 41), the Court affirms their systemic character and enhances their potential to influence legal and policy debates well beyond the Inter-American system.

Considering the above, I examine four key aspects of the Advisory Opinion’s treatment of Indigenous Peoples: (i) its dual approach, which recognizes them simultaneously as disproportionately affected by climate change and as unique knowledge holders; (ii) the challenge of reconciling the urgency of the climate emergency with procedural guarantees; (iii) the interpretive innovation of integrating Indigenous knowledge into the right to science; and (iv) substantive rights, particularly land rights, in contexts of displacement and cultural survival.

Vulnerability and Knowledge Holders

As mentioned, the Court situates Indigenous Peoples with a dual framework: on the one hand, as disproportionately affected by the climate emergency due to their geographic location, socioeconomic marginalization, and insecure land tenure (para. 605). And, on the other hand, as essential stewards whose traditional knowledge and practices are crucial for effective climate mitigation and adaptation (para. 339). This framing departs from a vulnerability – only narrative by affirming Indigenous agency and embedding their role as co-designers of climate policy. Internationally, this approach aligns with provisions in the Paris Agreement (Article 7.5), the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), and the Convention on Biological Diversity. Yet, the Court goes further by placing these principles within a binding human rights framework, thereby transforming international references into enforceable standards. Through this dual recognition – protection against disproportionate risks and valorization of knowledge systems – the Court situates Indigenous rights not at the margins but at the very core of lawful climate governance.

Regarding the first approach, the Court underscores that rural and coastal communities dependent on agriculture or fishing face disproportionately high risk from global warming (para. 605), activities on which these groups often rely. Such dependence makes them acutely sensitive to variations in rainfall, temperature shifts, and the degradation of marine and terrestrial ecosystems. The risk is further heightened when land tenure is insecure (para. 605). In the absence of formal property rights or effective titling procedures, Indigenous Peoples are exposed not only to the possibility of dispossession by third parties but also to legal uncertainty that restricts their ability to claim protection, invest in sustainable practices, or access public programs, for example. Thus, it could be argued that what begins as a climatic vulnerability is compounded by institutional fragility, generating a cycle in which environmental risks and legal insecurity reinforce one another to the detriment of Indigenous Peoples’ resilience. 

In parallel, however, the Court moves beyond a merely vulnerability-based account by recognizing Indigenous Peoples as holders of essential knowledge that is often decisive for climate mitigation and adaptation (para. 339). The Court has further emphasized that, alongside scientific knowledge, there exist traditional, local, and Indigenous knowledge systems (para. 476), which encompass skills, practices, and philosophies developed over generations through close interaction with the natural environment, forming part of the collective intellectual heritage of these communities and serving as the basis for decision-making in both daily life and long-term strategies. For example, Indigenous peoples of the Pacific developed sophisticated knowledge of the ocean and navigation through the observation of stars, winds, waves, and animal behavior. The Inuit use stone markers known as inukshuk to indicate routes and places, which they regard as part of their collective intellectual property; and in Canada, Inuit languages include over one hundred terms to describe sea ice and related phenomena, illustrating the depth of their interaction with the glacial environment. In doing so, it clearly calls on States to listen to Indigenous Peoples “and facilitate their continuing participation in decision-making” (para. 339). 

Indeed, the Court sets a new standard when imposing the duty on States “to explicitly justify how they have taken [Indigenous People’s] contributions into consideration in their final decision” (para. 339). And, if public authorities diverge from Indigenous proposals, States must provide reasoned justifications (para. 339). This duty is distinct from the obligation to guarantee the right to free, prior, informed consultation (FPIC). While FPIC remains central where any impact could be made to Indigenous Peoples in general terms with or without their territory (see U’Wa Indigneous People and its Members vs. Colombia on prior consultation processes), the Court now requires participatory processes and reasoned justifications in broader climate mitigation and adaptation measures (para. 339). It is important to bear in mind that participation and consultation are distinct processes. Participatory mechanisms do not necessarily involve establishing a dialogue aimed at reaching consent, whereas consultation processes are specifically directed toward that objective. Reinforcing the abovementioned duty, the Courts direct States to “integrate the knowledge of Indigenous Peoples into their plans and strategies for conservation of Nature and its components” (para. 340), embedding traditional knowledge as a legally protected input for climate policy design.

Finding the Right Balance: Climate Emergency and Procedural Rights of Indigenous Peoples

One of the most consequential moves in OC-32/25 is the Court’s explicit recognition of a climate emergency, defined as “the confluence and interrelation of three factors: the urgency of effective action, the severity of the impacts, and the complexity of the required responses” (para. 184). While this framing captures the scale of the crisis, it also introduces a tension: urgency can easily become a justification for eroding procedural guarantees. The risk, though not directly acknowledged by the Court, is that environmental impact assessments and the right to FPIC could be sidelined in the name of speed. 

The Opinion resists that logic by reaffirming procedural protections as integral to lawful climate action. It emphasizes the continuing relevance of environmental impact assessments (EIAs)- being this a different tool than FPIC, building on OC-23/17 (para. 160) and U’wa Indigenous People v. Colombia (paras. 296, 300 – 301), but now requiring them to include an assessment of climate impacts (para. 361). Crucially, these assessments must also “respect the traditions and culture of Indigenous Peoples” (para. 362), thereby integrating cultural survival into the technical methodology of environmental review. 

In parallel, the Court echoed Saramaka People v. Suriname (paras 133-135).  reiterates the obligation to guarantee FPIC. The Court makes clear that FPIC requires States to provide full information not only on environmental impacts but also on the climate, social, and cultural consequences of any law, policy, regulation, or project that may affect territorial rights or other rights essential to Indigenous survival (para. 610). This formulation broadens the scope of FPIC, anchoring it in the context of both climate mitigation and adaptation measures. 

Even where FPIC is not explicitly triggered according to international regulation, the Court underscores the importance of participatory rights in broader climate governance. Paragraph 538 makes clear that urgency cannot justify bypassing participation: when climate measures or their consequences may affect specific groups, those groups must be given “an effective opportunity to be heard and to participate in decision-making”. By requiring States to ensure not just consultation but the ability to influence outcomes, the Court elevates participatory rights into a safeguard against the instrumentalization of urgency. 

Still, the Opinion implicitly acknowledges the practical challenge: adaptation measures often demand rapid implementation, while meaningful participation requires time for deliberation. Ensuring “the opportunity to effectively influence the design of environmental projects and policies” (para. 538) is, by definition, time-consuming. National authorities will therefore face the difficult task of operationalizing this balance- avoiding tokenism on the one hand, and paralysis on the other. The jurisprudential message, however, is clear: urgency cannot dilute procedural justice; rather, it must be reconciled with it through institutional creativity and robust safeguards. The broader implication would be that States cannot invoke the climate emergency to justify truncated or symbolic participation; rather, they are called upon to innovate procedurally, so that participation is preserved without frustrating urgent action. 

Climate Change and Indigenous Knowledge

A distinctive innovation of the OC-32/25 lies in its expansive interpretation of the right to science. Drawing on Article XIII of the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, Article 14(2) of the Protocol of San Salvador, and Articles 38, 47 and 51 of the OAS Charter, the Court held that this right encompasses not only access to scientific knowledge but also recognition of local, traditional, and Indigenous systems of knowledge (para. 477). Thus, it explicitly rejects the notion of science as a self-contained Western epistemology, affirming instead that scientific knowledge “coexists” with other valid and essential ways of knowing (para. 476). 

The Court provides a clear definition of traditional or ancestral knowledge: it includes “the concepts, skills, innovations, practices, and philosophies that indigenous, local or other communities have developed over generations as a result of their intellectual activity, experiences and spiritual beliefs, in – or from a traditional context, thanks to their interaction with their natural environment.” (para. 476). By anchoring this definition in the human rights framework, the Court strengthens the claim that traditional knowledge is not merely cultural heritage, but a protected intellectual contribution with binding implications for States. 

This innovation has two key consequences: it broadens the scope of the right to science to include traditional knowledge (para. 477) and consolidates international references, such as Article 7.5 of the Paris Agreement and FAO reports, while elevating them into binding human rights standards. 

From these findings, the Court identifies three specific obligations for States: (i) adopt mechanism to protect local, traditional, and Indigenous knowledge; (ii) respect and safeguard the rights of Indigenous Peoples, particularly their land, identity, and the moral and material interests associated with their knowledge’; and (iii) support the compilation of traditional knowledge relevant to climate change, the environment, and human rights (para. 484). The Opinion also incorporates a gender-sensitive perspective by recognizing Indigenous women as key transmitters of knowledge across generations (para. 482), and acknowledges that both affirms their role in climate governance and helps counteract gendered forms of invisibility. 

In sum, the Court’s interpretation of the right to science represents a breakthrough. It expands the very meaning of science in international human rights law, opening space for Indigenous epistemologies to inform not only local adaptation strategies but also global climate policy. By embedding these principles in binding obligations, the Court moves beyond rhetorical recognition and places States under a duty to treat Indigenous knowledge as indispensable to lawful and effective climate action.

Indigenous Peoples’ Substantive Rights (Property Rights)

Beyond procedural guarantees, the Advisory Opinion also addresses the substantive dimension of Indigenous rights in the context of the climate emergency, specifically considering property rights. Central to this is the recognition of land rights. The Court underscores that when Indigenous Peoples are displaced—or when they face permanent impossibility of returning to their ancestral territories—due to climate-related disasters, environmental degradation, or slow-onset phenomena such as desertification or sea-level rise, States must guarantee access to land of comparable quality and legal status (para. 427). This obligation is not limited to restitution of territory, which may be unfeasible in the face of irreversible climate damage, but extends to ensuring functional equivalence: land that enables affected communities to sustain their livelihoods, preserve their cultural identity, and secure their future development.

If communities opt instead for compensation, the Court insists that this must be provided with safeguards that respect collective decision-making and protect against coercion or undervaluation. In doing so, OC-32/25 bridges earlier jurisprudence—such as Yakye Axa and Sawhoyamaxa, which focused on restitution of ancestral lands—with the realities of climate displacement, where return may no longer be possible. This is a jurisprudential innovation: it equips States with a normative framework to address displacement not as an exceptional humanitarian problem but as a foreseeable and rights-based obligation under human rights law.

By integrating land rights into the climate context, the Court makes clear that territorial integrity is not only a cultural entitlement but also a condition of resilience. Without secure and suitable land, Indigenous Peoples cannot adapt to climate change, nor can they exercise other interdependent rights such as food, health, and cultural identity. In this sense, substantive land guarantees function both as reparative measures and as preconditions for adaptation.

Conclusion

Indigenous Peoples are among the most vulnerable to climate change, but the Advisory Opinion insists that their role cannot be reduced to that of victims. Their participation, consent, and knowledge are indispensable for any legitimate and effective response to the climate emergency. Through the embedding of procedural guarantees such as FPIC, mandating integration of Indigenous knowledge into climate governance, and extending substantive protections over land in contexts of climate displacement, the Court reconfigures the normative landscape of human rights law.

The significance of OC-32/25 lies not only in its reaffirmation of established standards but in its innovations: the extension of FPIC obligations to climate measures, the interpretation of the right to science as inclusive of traditional knowledge, and the obligation to guarantee land of comparable quality when ancestral territories are lost to climate change. Together, these elements mark a decisive step forward in situating Indigenous rights at the heart of climate governance.

Beyond the Inter-American system, the Opinion offers a template with potential global resonance, demonstrating how human rights law can confront the climate emergency without sacrificing procedural justice or cultural survival.