Author: Viktor

Russia’s Architecture of Captured Indigenous Representation and International Propaganda

Introduction

Russian Association of Indigenous Peoples of the North (RAIPON) was once regarded as the principal representative organization of Indigenous Peoples in the Russian North. Today it operates within an entirely different political logic.

Through leadership capture, financial dependency, close partnerships with extractive industries, and state-directed diplomatic programs, the organization has been transformed into an intermediary through which the Russian state projects carefully managed narratives into international institutions.

This transformation has profound implications that extend far beyond Russia. The capture of Indigenous representation demonstrates how authoritarian governments can preserve the appearance of participation while systematically eliminating independent voices. Rather than excluding Indigenous Peoples from international governance, the state has learned to speak through organizations that no longer represent them.

Today RAIPON stands accused of becoming a de facto arm of the Kremlin, more a mouthpiece for state interests than a champion of Indigenous communities. Moreover, it has evolved into one of the most strategic tools utilized by the Russian state to advance its geopolitical agenda under the banner of Indigenous representation.

This transformation is particularly visible on the global stage, where Russia leverages RAIPON to portray itself as a benevolent state actor defending Indigenous rights, while simultaneously co-opting Indigenous institutions to reinforce state narratives and economic interests. This report examines how a once-independent Indigenous platform was co-opted into a state apparatus, and the urgent implications of that shift.

from
the International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia (ICIPR)

10 July 2025

To: Chair and members of the Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

Cc: Albert Barume, UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Ambassador Jürg Lauber,

President of the UN Human Rights Council

UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues

We, the International Committee of Indigenous Peoples of Russia (ICIPR), submit this statement with urgency and alarm: the credibility of EMRIP and the integrity of Indigenous representation face a grave threat.

Global Indigenous representation mechanisms—EMRIP included—are now being systematically infiltrated by actors who no longer represent the will, rights, values of Indigenous Peoples. As you are aware, the Russian Association of Indigenous Peoples of the North (RAIPON), long co-opted by state and corporate interests, has dramatically increased its efforts to enter and influence Indigenous global governance mechanisms.

We, Indigenous representatives of Russia, write to you not only as critics—but as witnesses. We remember what RAIPON once was. We were RAIPON too. And because we lived through its capture—we know exactly how dangerous this is.

In our earlier lives, many of us helped build the Russian Association of Indigenous Peoples of the North. It was once an authentic, grassroots Indigenous platform— born in the 1990s during a period of hope and political openness. It shaped federal Indigenous legislation. It gave us voice in the Arctic Council and the United Nations. It connected our communities to the world.

We built RAIPON with the intention of forging a national Indigenous movement grounded in resistance, dignity, and self-determination. But over time, we watched RAIPON fall. In 2013, it was forcibly overtaken by state-aligned actors. Today, that organization is no longer ours. It has been captured, repurposed, and weaponized by the Russian state.

Paradoxically, while the domestic space for Indigenous expression and resistance continues to collapse, RAIPON is increasingly showcased abroad as a symbol of Russia’s supposed commitment to Indigenous rights. The movement we helped build has been turned into an instrument to suppress the very voices it was meant to uplift. And now, the mechanisms of the United Nations risk becoming its next stage.

RAIPON is gaining ground in UN forums, Arctic governance spaces, and global civil society venues. RAIPON-linked individuals not only speak at these forums, they help run them. They occupy prestigious seats – enjoying consultative status at the UN and a Permanent Participant seat at the Arctic Council. On the surface, their approach is careful, diplomatic, and seemingly aligned with Indigenous priorities. Their representatives speak the right language, engage with protocols, and present themselves as natural allies. But it is a calculated and effective campaign, backed by state propaganda diplomacy, vast extractive capital, and a growing apparatus of trained Indigenous spokespersons who echo government lines.

We urge EMRIP to critically assess the appointment of Antonina Gorbunova, whose inclusion on the Mechanism as an “independent expert” is deeply troubling. She is openly affiliated with RAIPON and receives funding and institutional support from Norilsk Nickel (Nornickel)— the world’s biggest polluter on Indigenous homelands. The mining company funnels funding into RAIPON and parallel groups (i.e.“ KMNS Soyuz”, a union for Indigenous Peoples of the North created with Nornickel’s backing). This is not independence—it is extractive complicity. How can an “independent” expert, elevated not by Indigenous communities, but by state-linked platforms and extractive capital be tasked with defending the rights of Indigenous Peoples to land and self-government?

We also raise concerns about Mr. Alexey Tsykarev, a former EMRIP member who now heads Russia’s School of Indigenous Diplomacy——a joint venture of state agencies, state-aligned businesses, and RAIPON. Tsykarev is not Indigenous himself, but a government-aligned staff member hired by the Russian state and its corporate partners to train and position so-called Indigenous diplomats.

Notably, he has been declared persona non grata in several Baltic and Nordic countries due to his assessed threat to national security—underscoring how closely his activities align with Kremlin soft power strategies. His continued role in Indigenousdiplomacyundermines both the credibility and the safety of international Indigenous platforms.

The school explicitly aims to train and place Indigenous diplomats into global forums. This manufactured class of Indigenous envoys is being inserted into international institutions – a strategic manipulation of identity and narrative. This school does not cultivate Indigenous agency—it manufactures compliance. It trains Indigenous delegates not to question power, but to perform loyalty. Funded by the Russian state and private business (Nornickel) endorsed by RAIPON, it is part of a wider strategy of Indigenous disempowerment disguised as inclusion. And while RAIPON has leveraged its influence to position its people in key roles, independent voices are denied travel, funding, or accreditation.

This is not Indigenous diplomacy. This is Indigenous-washing.

We name it for what it is: a sophisticated strategy by authoritarian regimes to decorate repression with the faces of those they silence at home. Indigenous- washing manipulates identity to hide harm. It is a brutal new chapter of colonialism—where the colonized are used to colonize further, weaponizing representation itself.

This is not a future threat—it is happening now.

Across the world, governments increasingly seek to instrumentalize Indigenous platforms to serve state agendas. States are learning that the best way to silence Indigenous Peoples is not through force—but through appointment. They manufacture loyalty, promote obedient leaders, and fund state-aligned NGOs, all while criminalizing or exiling true Indigenous independent leaders and institutions.

Indigenousmovementsmustremainaccountabletothepeoples,notto authoritarianagendas or corporate interests. It is a betrayal of our collective struggle when the voices of Indigenous resistance are replaced by performers of diplomacy, selected for their obedience rather than their truth.

Indigenous Rights Mechanisms were not built to stage state narratives. They were built to challenge them, to be a force for legislative change and a shield for vulnerable communities. If we do not act now, we risk losing not only credibility —but entire communities who will no longer see the UN as a place for justice.

We refer EMRIP to two key investigations:

• “RAIPON: From Nation-Based Change Agent to a Weapon of State- Controlled Propaganda” (ICIPR, 2024)
  https://indigenous-russia.com/ archives/38572

• “They work for the benefit of those at the top.” How the Association of Indigenous Peoples became an enrichment and lobbying tool” (Arctida, 2024)
  https://arctida.io/en/investigations/oni-rabotayut-na-blago-verhushki

These reports provide detailed evidence of how the Russian government and extractive companies like Nornickel strategically fund and influence so-called Indigenous organizations to serve their agenda – both domestically and internationally.

We must not allow this model to globalize. If the international Indigenous platform does not draw a line now, the machinery of manipulation will replace the movement entirely.

We call on EMRIP to ensure that those who betrayed Indigenous Peoples do not define Indigenous Future.

We ask you to act with clarity, independence, and moral courage that this moment demands.

In resistance and solidarity,

International Committe of Indigenous Peoples of Russia (ICIPR)

Website: https://icipr.international
E-mail: [email protected]

Dear COP28 Delegates, 

We, Indigenous leaders and allies from diverse cultures, traditions, and regions across the globe, are united in calling for COP28 to be a platform to discuss Indigenous Peoples’ rights in the context of the increasing demand for minerals mined for energy storage, electrified transportation batteries, and other green energy technologies. In our call, we urge for governments and corporations to respect, protect, and fulfill Indigenous Peoples’ rights, specifically the right to Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), as the minimum standards enumerated in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and the ILO Convention 169, to ensure equitable and responsible environmental and social practices on our lands. 

We acknowledge and emphasize that it is more important than ever to transition to clean energy and clean transportation solutions, and away from fossil fuels such as oil, coal, and gas. Indigenous leaders have been calling for climate action around the world for decades. We have ancestral, cultural, and spiritual ties to our lands that not only require our participation in climate advocacy but also call us to commit to the proper stewardship practices of nature that are deeply rooted in our ways of life. Many Indigenous leaders are pursuing and championing clean energy and transportation solutions on their territories that align with their self-determined needs and goals. These Indigenous-led solutions need to be acknowledged, recognised, promoted, and funded by States and private entities.

While we are at the forefront of the fight for climate action and clean energy, our profound connection to our ancestral lands also puts us on the frontlines to ensure that these lands will not be sacrifice zones for those companies and politicians who seek a quick fix in the name of climate solutions. Our commitment to a just transition doesn’t overshadow our firm stance against mining practices that occur without obtaining FPIC of Indigenous Peoples and can lead to displacement; migration; and livelihood, cultural, and language loss. We firmly assert that mining operations must adhere to responsible practices guided by the FPIC framework, which upholds the right to self-determination of Indigenous Peoples. We, Indigenous Peoples, hold an inherent and inalienable right to make decisions about the future of our lands, territories, and resources. 

The historic exploitation of our people and lands by oil, gas, and mining companies showcases a legacy of putting profits over our well-being, health, safety, cultures, traditions, and our sacred lands, waters, and air. With 54% of energy transition minerals globally located on or near our Indigenous Peoples’ lands, it is imperative that our communities participate meaningfully in decision-making and are able to exercise our right to give or withhold consent to these projects that will impact our lives, livelihoods, and cultures. 

Ignoring our voices will only perpetuate the fossil fuel and mining industry’s status quo. Instead, if and when new mines are proposed on our ancestral lands, Indigenous Peoples must be involved from the start. Our subsistence, cultural practices, and priorities must be at the center of negotiations for proposed mines on our lands. We need to be involved in policies and enhanced levels of engagement and transparency at every step of the process. These must be co-developed with our participation and according to our leadership and governance structures.

The most protective way to achieve this is for governments and businesses around the world to ensure the highest standards of FPIC occur for every proposed minerals mining project that impacts Indigenous Peoples. As articulated in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which was adopted by the United Nations in 2007 and endorsed by many countries throughout the world, FPIC expresses consent-based protocols defined by Indigenous leaders, secures decision-making authority and participatory rights in all decisions that affect Indigenous communities and territories, and helps understand the full impacts of projects affecting Indigenous Peoples lands, subsistence, and cultural practices, and ways of life.

FPIC encompasses Indigenous Peoples’ right to:

• Enter into conversations and negotiations without coercion or manipulation. 
• Engage in consultations and decision-making processes long before decisions are made concerning their land, resources, individuals, and communities.  
• Utilize their own traditional decision-making structures/governance, ensuring that these structures are respected and integrated into the process.
• Have full information that is easily accessible and readily available in a language they understand. 
• Say “yes” or “no” to a project.
• To be involved and heard throughout a project’s life cycle wherever it impacts people and resources.
• Retain the ability to withdraw consent at any stage of the project or activity if circumstances change or new information arises that affects their consent.
• Receive support and resources necessary for effective and meaningful participation in discussions and decision-making processes. 

We will not back down from our role as leaders in the fight for climate action and clean energy. COP28 must be the foundation for governments around the world to build on this momentum and take the urgent steps needed to secure Indigenous Peoples’ self-determination as reflected in UNDRIP and as defined by impacted Indigenous Peoples so that the world can get this transition right, take the required climate action, and avoid making the mistakes of the past that have put our people and ways of life at risk, and have pushed planetary boundaries to dangerous limits. In the spirit of this effort, we believe it is an opportunity to define a better and more inclusive world that serves all communities and all peoples – transcending the boundaries of concentrated political and economic power. In this collective vision, we are committed to protecting our shared cultural heritage and practices that bind us together and to continue being responsible stewards of the planet. 

Thank you for your time and consideration.

En español

Signed,

1. Securing Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in the Green Economy (SIRGE) Coalition
2. Cultural Survival
3. First Peoples Worldwide
4. Batani Foundation
5. Earthworks 6. Society for Threatened Peoples

SIgn

The Buryats, an ethnic group of Mongolic descent, originate from southeastern Siberia. They represent one of the two predominant indigenous populations in Siberia, along with Yakuts. Today, most Buryats reside in their titular homeland, the Republic of Buryatia. This federally administrated province of Russia extends along the southern shoreline and partially encompasses Lake Baikal. The region, along with many other remote poor regions of Russia, had been disproportionally targeted by the military draft in the Russian war on Ukraine.

Since the beginning of the conflict in Donbas, a meme has emerged about “boevoy Buryat” (“battle-ready Buryats”) prepared to sacrifice themselves for Putin. This meme gained widespread popularity after the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. This has exposed a disturbing undercurrent of racism in a country that swears to be ‘fighting against Nazis. The conflict has also disproportionately highlighted Asians as the face of the war, even though they represent an absolute minority in terms of percentage actively participating. Together with an anonymous volunteer from a charitable foundation and Purbe Dambiev, an activist from the Buryat Center in Mongolia, we are talking about some discriminating phrases against the Buryat community.

‘I thought you could only herd cattle’ or ‘Wow, you can do that?’

These derogatory expressions are based on stereotypes about the low intelligence or qualifications of Asians in Russia. While it may seem that such comments are no longer prevalent, real-life experiences prove otherwise.

A volunteer recalled an incident when she and her friend attended a networking event in Moscow. “When I introduced myself and mentioned that I work as a lawyer, one man was surprised and said, ‘Can you do that?’ In his opinion, all Asians living in cities either work as cleaners or couriers. Then he added, ‘I thought you could only herd cattle.’”

There was another example when a Buryat woman went to a restaurant with her colleagues during lunch. “As soon as I entered the restroom, a woman started questioning me: ‘Where are the paper towels?’ In her view, because I am Asian, I must be only a cleaner at that restaurant,” the volunteer recounted.

‘Buryats are superstitious’

In every nation exists a system of widely accepted norms and values, including myths and superstitions. Superstitions reflect the centuries-long history of peoples, but it is not accurate to speak of Buryats as having a unified collective consciousness. Activist Purbe Dambiev explains, “There are quite a number of Buryats: several hundred thousand in Buryatia, thousands of Mongolian and Chinese Buryats. They are all very diverse, and their local customs vary. Among us, there are people who hold traditions dear, and there are those for whom they are not so important.”

‘Battle-ready Buryats’

Buryats are regular people who, in their daily lives, are not fundamentally different from other nationalities. Describing an entire nation as quarrelsome and aggressive is a clear exaggeration and falsehood. Furthermore, as per Dambiev’s words, the phrase “battle-ready Buryats” is deeply offensive because it characterizes people as if they were some kind of particular breed of dogs.

‘For a Buryat person, you are quite…’ (beautiful, tall, muscular, and so on)

Such comments are common instances of racism that Buryats frequently face when they move to western regions of Russia for education or employment. Those who make such comments assume, for instance, that individuals of a specific nationality or ethnic group are typically not considered attractive, and, in this particular case, beauty is something unexpected and unusual.

A volunteer shares: “The sizes and heights of people depend on numerous factors and can vary even within a single ethnic group. However, such expressions are prevalent even among Buryats themselves.”

Sometimes, the speakers claim that they intended to give a compliment. Nevertheless, these statements should not be mistaken for compliments.

‘Before joining Russia, the Buryats didn’t even have a written language’

This statement is factually incorrect. The Buryats had their own methods of transmitting knowledge and cultural heritage prior to contact with the Russian Empire. The Buryats had a Mongolic vertical script. So such a statement is disrespectful towards Buryat culture and history.

‘Even though you are Buryat, you are still one of us’

This is a highly popular and completely racist statement that categorizes people into specific groups. Furthermore, such expressions are now extremely widespread and even find reflection in popular culture. For instance, in the verses of so-called Z-poets who propagate the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

‘Ni hao’

In western regions of Russia, people might use this Chinese greeting towards any Asian, considering it a funny joke. However, it’s a stereotypical and offensive expression that implies that all Asians are the same, sharing the same culture and language.

‘Did you buy a passport? Is Buryatia also part of Russia?’

It’s not a crime to have a limited knowledge of geography. However, while migrants in Russia are legally required to know the language and culture, not all Russians are aware of which regions are part of Russia. This phrase also symbolizes a division between the “real people” with the right documents and the rest with the wrong ones.

‘Slant-eyed’

There exist several offensive and discriminatory stereotypes associated with the shape of one’s eyes. These physical characteristics lead to derogatory characterizations: Buryats are often unfairly portrayed as less intelligent, more cunning, or having hidden motives.

“The belief that one’s eye shape can somehow reveal their character, behavior, or intelligence is absurd. Such oversimplified perceptions of appearance dismiss the rich history and cultural diversity,” notes a volunteer.

She adds that the complex of “slant eyes” did not emerge out of thin air. Some Asians attempt to address it by undergoing a “European eye fold” surgery.  “These operations are quite popular, not only in Russia’s national republics but also in Kazakhstan,” she further explains.

On one hand, stereotypes are a fairly common aspect of intercultural relations. People with a sense of humor may identify traits associated with specific groups. However, there is a downside to this process: hurtful stereotypes can narrow the boundaries of the world, create actual barriers between people, and fuel division and animosity. Stereotypes about Buryats are a vivid example of these negative social processes.

Source

Despite a raft of sanctions now in place against Moscow, the critical raw materials trade remains exempt and EU purchases persist. Investigate Europe analysis finds European companies continue to pour billions into mining firms linked to the Kremlin.

Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the 27 EU countries have adopted 11 sanction packages, targeting raw materials including oil, coal, steel and timber. But minerals that the EU considers as “critical” raw materials – 34 in total – still flow freely from Russia to Europe in vast quantities, providing crucial funds to state enterprises and oligarch-owned businesses.

While some of its western allies have targeted Russia’s mining sector – the UK recently banned Russian copper, aluminium and nickel – the EU has continued its imports. Airbus and other European companies are still buying titanium, nickel, and other commodities from firms close to the Kremlin more than a year after the invasion, Investigate Europe can reveal.

Between March 2022 and July this year, Europe imported €13.7 billion worth of critical raw materials from Russia, data from Eurostat and the EU’s Joint Research Centre shows. More than €3.7 billion arrived between January and July 2023, including €1.2 billion of nickel. The European Policy Centre estimates that up to 90 per cent of some types of nickel used in Europe comes from Russian suppliers.

“Why are critical raw materials not banned? Because they are critical, right. Let’s be honest,” the EU’s special envoy for sanctions, David O’Sullivan, pithily said at a September conference.

The Union is desperate for critical raw materials to achieve its aim of climate neutrality by 2050. These commodities are crucial for electronics, solar panels and electric cars, but also for traditional industries like aerospace and defence. Yet they are all too often in scarce supply, unevenly available across the globe, and in high demand.

“The war in Ukraine has clearly shown the willingness of Russia to weaponise the supply of key resources. As Europeans, we cannot tolerate that,” says Henrike Hahn, a German Green MEP working on the new Critical Raw Materials Act.

Europe’s imports not only fund Russia’s war economy, but also benefit Kremlin-backed oligarchs and state companies. Although the EU has targeted some shareholders, Russia’s mining businesses have faced no restrictions. The loophole is even more glaring that the US and the UK sanctioned several firms directly, further isolating the EU in its double standards.

Analysis of Russian customs data shows that Vsmpo-Avisma, the world’s largest titanium producer, sold at least $308 million of titanium into the EU via its German and UK branches between February 2022 and July 2023. It is part-owned by Russia’s national defence conglomerate, Rostec. The two companies share the same chairman: Sergei Chemezov, a close Putin ally. The pair were KGB officers in East Germany in the 1980s.

Both Chemezov and Rostec are under EU sanctions and helped supply tanks and weapons to the Russian army. Brussels has not sanctioned Vsmpo-Avisma directly, but the US did ban exports to the firm on 27 September, saying it was “directly involved in producing and manufacturing titanium and metal products for the Russian military and security services.”

Among Vsmpo-Avisma’s largest European customers is Airbus, the aerospace giant partly owned by the French, German and Spanish states. Between the start of the war and March 2023, Airbus imported at least $22.8 million worth of titanium from Russia; a fourfold increase in value and tonnes compared to the previous 13 months.

From 14 March 2023, Vsmpo-Avisma stopped identifying buyers in customs filings but nothing indicates a significant change in trends. Titanium imports to France only slightly decreased between then and July 2023, and Airbus still listed the company as a supplier in July. 

“We have no comment on the details and evolution of our titanium sourcing volumes,” an Airbus spokesperson said. “Generally speaking, Airbus is currently ramping up commercial aircraft production and this is having a mechanical impact on its overall procurement volumes.” Even though it will take time, the group is reducing its dependency on Russia, the spokesperson said, adding that a ban on Russian titanium for civil aviation would “encourage the Russian industry to focus on defence needs.”

Unlike Vsmpo-Avisma, other Russian companies have avoided naming their buyers in customs filings altogether. Yet the data still gives a scale of their fruitful relationship with the west. Nornickel, the world leader in palladium and high-grade nickel, exported $7.6 billion worth of nickel and copper into the EU via Finnish and Swiss subsidiaries between the start of the war and July 2023. It also sent over $3 billion of palladium, platinum and rhodium into Zurich airport. In 2022, almost 50 per cent of Nornickel’s sales went to Europe. Brussels has not sanctioned the group nor its chairman and largest shareholder, Vladimir Potanin, an oligarch and former deputy prime minister under US and UK sanctions.

Aluminium giant Rusal also uses tax havens to funnel minerals to Europe, where it owns the EU’s largest alumina refinery in Ireland and a smelter in Sweden. Its Jersey and Swiss-based trading houses brought at least $2.6 billion of aluminium into the bloc in the 16 months following the invasion of Ukraine. In August 2023, Rusal said Europe still accounted for a third of its revenues. Rusal’s main shareholder is oligarch Oleg Deripaska, sanctioned by the EU and its western partners.

Anti-corruption NGO Transparency International says it does not make sense that the sector has avoided sanctions given the known links. “They are part of the system and fueling Putin’s war,” says senior policy officer Roland Papp. “So it’s perfectly logical to ban those critical raw materials from Russia, as we did for other sectors and goods.”

Since the start of the war, other European buyers of Russian metals have included Germany’s GGP Metal Powder ($66 million of copper), French arms-maker Safran ($25 million of titanium) and Greece’s Elval Halcor ($13 million of aluminium). Dutch logistics firm C. Steinweg also handled at least $100 million of various critical metals on behalf of its customers.

Safran confirmed they are still buying titanium from Vsmpo-Avismo but are working to reduce their Russia purchases. GGP Metal Powder said “there is no real alternative to our supplier from Russia”. C. Steinweg said they follow all rules and sanctions. Elval Halcor, Vsmpo-Avisma, Rusal and Nornickel did not reply to requests for comment.

“We’ve increased our dependence on Russia. It was an absolute and serious mistake.”

— Roland Papp, Transparency International

At the start of the war, Europe was relying on Russian producers for 30 per cent of its nickel, 35 per cent of its alumina and 15 per cent of its aluminium, according to an internal memo by trade body Eurometaux seen by IE. Russia accounted for 41 per cent of the world’s palladium production, and up to 25 per cent of its vanadium output.

“Russia occupies a large part of Eurasia – it possesses a big part of the strategic reserves of critical raw materials, on par with China,” says Oleg Savytskyi from Razom We Stand, a Ukrainian NGO. Moreover, “the low density of the population, authoritarian control and practical absence of environmental and human rights protections made investments in the mining of Russia’s resources terribly attractive,” he adds.

The EU’s crippling dependency should have been curbed earlier, argues Transparency International’s Papp. “We’ve had enough time to react. The annexation of Crimea dates back to 2014, the invasion of Georgia even dates back to 2008 15 years ago! And what have we done? We’ve increased our dependence on Russia. It was an absolute and serious mistake.”

A Polish diplomat said Poland has pressed the EU to “decouple completely” from Russia in several areas, “but for the sake of unity and efficiency in adopting new sanctions packages we have agreed to postpone particular measures until further discussion.”

As EU sanctions require unanimity among all member states, divergent national economic interests can often water down packages. When the ninth set of sanctions banned fresh investments in Russia’s mining sector in December 2022, it included an exemption to invest in some mining activities for some critical raw materials. As a result, European companies can still pour cash into Russian mines to extract nickel, titanium and other key metals.

Nickel was the most imported critical raw material since the start of the invasion of Ukraine

The European Policy Centre estimates that up to 90 per cent of some types of nickel used in Europe comes from Russian suppliers.

EU imports of selected raw materials, March 2022 – July 2023, in billion euros.

Sources: Eurostat and EU’s Joint Research Centre

The European Commission won’t publicly comment on whether or not it has proposed a ban on critical raw materials. One reason could be that  “sanctions are carefully designed to hit their targets while preserving EU interests,“ an EU source told IE.

Weaning the EU off Russia’s critical and strategic materials will be difficult. Replacing suppliers and forging new international partnerships is an arduous process. Finding a raw material, such as titanium or copper, with a similar quality and price of those from Russia is also a challenge. 

Imposing tariffs or severing ties too quickly could lead to a global price surge which would harm European buyers while benefiting Moscow. A ban could also prompt India, Iran, and China to intensify purchases, further depleting critical raw material resources for EU industries.

Tymofiy Mylovanov, president of the Kyiv School of Economics, says a ban would be difficult to implement given global demand challenges and Europe’s reliance on Russia. “Overall, with these specific materials, the monetary value of what Russia would lose from the EU import ban, might be smaller than the effect on the EU production,” says Ukraine’s former trade and economic development minister.

UN trading data shows that while EU imports of Russian copper, nickel and aluminium imports have declined in the past two years, nickel and aluminium revenues remained stable. Russia’s nickel sales to the EU were worth $1 billion in the first half of 2021 and were $1.1 billion two years later.

The Union is now trying to reduce its dependency. In March, the European Commission presented its Critical Raw Materials Act (CRMA), a new legislation aimed at reducing EU dependency on third countries for critical raw materials.

“War in Europe is a risk which was not present in the last decades and Russia was known as a reliable supplier,” says German MEP Hildegard Bentele, shadow rapporteur on the CRMA at the European Parliament. “The EU should take immediate action to support European companies to decrease and replace their CRM deliveries from Russia as soon as possible.”

The High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy is expected to propose a 12th package of sanctions in the coming weeks, which will be then discussed by member states. Brussels hopes the package will renew pressure on the Russian economy and sap its fighting strength on the battlefields of Ukraine. Restrictions on critical raw materials does not seem to be on the table.

Editor: Chris Matthews
Graphics: Marta Portocarrero
This investigation is supported by Journalismfund Europe’s Investigation Grants for Environmental Journalism.

Source

By Dev Kumar Sunuwar (Koĩts-Sunuwar, CS Staff) 

I felt anxious and overwhelmed walking into the 13th Global Investigative Journalism Conference, which took place on September 19-22, 2023 in Gothenburg, Sweden, since, for the past 20 years, I have been working in a small, Indigenous-led media outlet focused on the tiny spheres of Indigenous Peoples’ lands and territories in Nepal, usually only equipped with a voice recorder or mini-camera along with a pen and diary to tell stories of Indigenous Peoples’ issues and rights violations.

This year’s Global Investigative Journalism Conference was attended by 2,138 investigative journalists, reporters, and editors from 132 countries, making it the largest gathering of investigative journalists in history. The conference focused on practical and advanced reporting training including the latest tools and techniques, extensive networking, and brainstorming sessions, with over 200 sessions. The Indigenous Journalists Association, together with the Global Investigative Journalism Network, brought Indigenous journalists to be part of the conference. Still, there were only 15 Indigenous journalists in attendance, from Taiwan, Nepal, Canada, the U.S., New Zealand, Finland, Guatemala, and Colombia.  

Despite the different geographies and cultures represented at the gatherings, the similarities in the impacts of racism, colonization, land grabbing, and forced displacement of Indigenous Peoples, among others, weaved together all of our stories. The coverage of such violations is extremely limited.  If Indigenous Peoples’ issues or rights violations are covered at all, they are not always properly or positively portrayed. The panel, “Investigating Indigenous Stories,” discussed the importance of Indigenous stories and the time needed to create them, which is not understood by many newsrooms.

Brittany Guyot (Northlands Dënesųłiné First Nation), an investigative reporter with APTN Investigates in Canada, said on the panel, “In Canada, Indigenous people are far more likely to go missing or be murdered compared to the non-Indigenous populations. In the last three months alone, there have been approximately three women whose remains have been found in local landfills.  The issue that we’re having now is recovering their remains and returning them to their families so that they can have proper ceremonies. If it were a non-Indigenous person whose remains were found in a dump or [the] garbage, the government would make every effort to recover those people.” 

Guyot, who has long been reporting on the deaths of Indigenous children at residential schools, as well as the overrepresentation of Indigenous people in the criminal justice system, reflected on the bitter reality of these stories being ignored by the mainstream media: “Such issues have not been in a national conversation nor covered well enough by the media. I think it’s incredibly important that we have Indigenous journalists at the decision-making level of the newsroom to be able to tell these stories. Sadly, we don’t have adequate [numbers of] Indigenous journalists in Canada, especially Indigenous women, who are in investigative journalism. We need more Indigenous investigative journalists who can tell such sensitive stories best,” she said.  

Panelists concurred that more Indigenous journalists in newsrooms would create better representation and serve the needs of society. Historically, the media coverage of Indigenous Peoples has tended to focus on the negative and is dominated by non-Indigenous voices. Therefore, strong voices are needed in favor of decolonizing and Indigenizing the media to better reflect Indigenous voices.

“In the U.S., there are several things that impact Indigenous Peoples—economy, land grabbing, health care—[that] receive little or no coverage in the media, primarily because reporters don’t find those stories particularly important. And there are no signs of such an attitude going away anytime soon. A few places have started Indigenous affairs desks to deal with this problem, but most of them are at small nonprofit outlets or public radio stations. We don’t see this at large organizations or mainstream organizations,” said Tristan Ahtone (Kiowa),  editor at large at Grist. “I believe the easiest thing to do is hire Indigenous journalists to work in your newsroom. But if you can’t hire an Indigenous journalist, you can collaborate and work with other Indigenous reporters at other news outlets. There are many, many ways that you can safeguard your work, safeguard your journalism, and make sure that you’re doing the best work possible,” Ahtone said.

Investigative journalism is not simply about making hidden facts or secrets public. It should also focus on social justice and accountability and aim to right the wrongs and protect the most vulnerable groups of society, making those in power accountable to them. But lately, investigations have been primarily focused on covering crime and corruption. Most media is controlled by the power, money, and stories of the dominant group of society. 

Even so, Indigenous journalism is on the rise. Indigenous journalists and Indigenous media outlets are leading the way in telling our stories and increasingly demonstrating to the non-Indigenous media how this coverage can and should be done in response to centuries of inadequate reporting, systemic misinformation about Indigenous communities, and a dearth of coverage that perpetuates Indigenous Peoples’ invisibility.

“We need more journalists and more media organizations who can listen to Mother Earth and storytellers who pay attention to the issues affecting Indigenous Peoples and consider Mother Earth a  character who feels what is happening and has something to tell,” said Vanessa Teteye Mendoza, (Bora-Uitoto) from La Chorrera, Amazonas, Colombia, from the Iñeje (Canangucho) clan. Mendoza works at the independent intercultural media agency Agenda Propia, where she has reported on and served as an editorial advisor for various stories, especially on the struggles and realities of Amazonian Peoples.

In Scandinavian countries, the mainstream media has given scant attention to covering the stories of reindeer herders, the Sami Peoples living in Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia. “The climate crisis has already resulted in consequences on our livelihoods, and our lives. The extractive industries, electrification, and industrialization have caused devastating impacts. Sami people are also struggling to keep up their language and culture. There has been an increasing threat to the safeguarding of lands. The mineral and mining industries are booming on lands that the Sami people have been inhabiting for generations without the free prior and informed consent of the Sami people but are hardly covered by the mainstream news,” said Maria Sayet (Sami), executive producer at Sameradion and SVT Sapmi in Kiruna, Sweden. 

“Coming from Sami society and knowing the problems that Sapmi, or the reindeer herders, have been facing, we should not be the only ones reporting on how Indigenous Peoples are struggling or fighting and surviving, in my opinion. It is also the mainstream media that has to take responsibility for covering Indigenous stories and their problems because Sami people are also part of the bigger communities, part of the countries, a part of the world population,” Sayet said.

In Japan, recognized Ainu Indigenous Peoples have not been able to hunt deer, fish for salmon, or practice their culture and rituals in the rivers or forests near where they live. In the Philippines, Kankanaey-Igorot Indigenous Peoples in the Cordillera Region have been struggling against the injustices of large-scale corporate gold mining for more than a century.  In Malaysia, India, and Nepal, Indigenous Peoples are facing constant threats and have been struggling as their customary land, territories, and forests are transformed into protected areas or the rivers that they have collectively stewarded for generations have become hubs for hydro dams. But these issues are rarely covered in the news.

Associate Director of IJA, Francine Compton (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), summarized the feeling of Indigenous journalists attending the conference: “The mainstream media does not report accurately on Indigenous issues. Therefore, the work of Indigenous investigative journalism in Indigenous issues is needed more than ever, as their freedom of information is getting worse than ever.”

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