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Colombia's unarmed Indigenous Guards risk lives to defend Amazon rainforest
In 2013, after nine nights of sacred ceremonies along the remote Caquetá River, hundreds of Indigenous leaders from Colombia's Amazon made a pivotal decision: they would form an unarmed patrol to protect their ancestral lands from loggers, poachers, and armed groups vying for control of illegal mining and coca cultivation. A decade later, their Indigenous Guard for the Amazon-now over 50,000 strong nationwide-faces escalating violence as criminal networks expand their grip on the region, while the guards remain committed to peaceful resistance.
The birth of a movement
Faced with state inaction and mounting threats, leaders from more than 60 Indigenous communities united to create a force modeled after Colombia's existing Indigenous Guards, which originated in the 1970s with the Nasa people of Cauca. The Amazonian iteration would patrol with wooden staffs and rainbow-colored banners-symbols chosen after a double rainbow appeared at dawn during their founding gathering, convincing even skeptics of its divine endorsement.
"For the first time, our people-especially the youth-saw that ancestral wisdom still guides us," recalled Luis Jansasoy, an Inga leader and guard coordinator in Putumayo. "It was a sign we must not lose hope."
Spiritual defense meets on-the-ground patrols
The guards' work blends practical action with spiritual tradition. Before patrols, elders lead ceremonies with yagé (ayahuasca), invoking protection for those venturing into the forest. "Our spiritual guards clear the path," Jansasoy explained. "When we patrol, elders watch over us with prayers."
Patrols, conducted in groups of up to 30, prioritize dialogue over confrontation. If loggers, miners, or poachers-whose mercury-laden gold dredging contaminates rivers-refuse to leave, guards escalate reports to community leaders, then to Colombian courts or NGOs. Their efforts extend to safeguarding uncontacted groups like the Yuri and Passé, whose isolation leaves them vulnerable to mercury poisoning from upstream mining.
"We suspect uncontacted communities may be eating contaminated fish," said Patricia Suárez, a Murui leader and advisor to Colombia's government. "This could devastate them."
Patricia Suárez, Organization of Indigenous Peoples of the Colombian Amazon (Opiac)
Violence and resilience
Since 2024, seven Indigenous Guards have been murdered-most in Cauca and Putumayo-amid a surge in threats against Indigenous leaders, according to NGO Somos Defensores. The guards' unarmed stance clashes with armed groups' expanding control over coca production (which has doubled in Putumayo since 2015) and illegal mining.
"There are people you can't reason with," Suárez admitted. Yet guards persist, even as recruits like Wilmer Becerra-who fled Farc guerrilla threats as a child-join to prevent history from repeating. "My mother taught me our culture," he said. "Seeing our elders helpless motivates me to ensure no one suffers that again."
Broken peace, enduring threats
Colombia's 2016 peace accord with the Farc failed to curb violence. Dissident factions and new armed groups now exploit remote Indigenous territories, recruiting children via social media. A 2025 UN report warned of resurging conflict, while Colombia's Defensoría del Pueblo found nearly half of 2024's 500+ forced recruitment cases involved Indigenous youth.
A model of conservation
Studies show Indigenous territories in the Amazon suffer less deforestation than surrounding areas, a testament to the guards' role. "Public forces conduct raids and leave," noted Julia Miranda, a former director of Colombia's national parks. "Indigenous peoples stay. Their constant presence protects the forest."
Guards also forge cross-border pacts. In Putumayo, upstream communities like Villagarzón pledge to keep rivers clean, while downstream neighbors protect migratory fish and tapirs. Jansasoy-whose Inga title, wasikama, means "guardian of the home"-trains guards in first aid, fire prevention, and river rescue, carrying his rainbow-draped staff and a 20-day supply of food on patrols.
"From the Villagarzón mountains to the Amazon, one chain unites us," he said. "The river, the forest-this is what we must care for."
Luis Jansasoy, Coordinator, Indigenous Guard for the Amazon
The cost of resistance
Despite their peaceful methods, guards face beatings, disappearances, and murder. In 2024 alone, seven were killed. Yet their resolve endures, rooted in a belief that ancestral wisdom and collective action can outlast violence. As global leaders convene at COP30 in Belém, the guards' struggle underscores a stark reality: the Amazon's survival may hinge on those willing to defend it without weapons-only staffs, banners, and the weight of tradition.
