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Community-Led Activism Is Saving Land—and Lives

Around the world, developers are buying up land and bulldozing ecosystems that have sustained local people for centuries. But activists and affected communities are working together to defend their land and livelihoods—and it’s working.

A farmer waters his crops in a sandy, tropical location.
Satish, a local farmer, relies on sand dunes to protect and nourish his crops.

Along the coastline of Tamil Nadu, India’s southernmost state, fisherfolk and farming communities have lived for generations under the diligent watch of a silent protector: sand dunes. 

These unique coastal formations are a critical part of the region’s rich biodiversity and delicate ecosystem. The sand dunes store rainfall and block saltwater intrusion, providing reliable access to freshwater for irrigation and agriculture. They also shield local farms from salty ocean winds and protect villages from catastrophic storms like the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. For the communities that call these shores their home, the dunes sustain their way of life.  

But these vital sand dunes are in danger of disappearing forever. As tourists flock to the sunny beaches and tropical waters of Tamil Nadu, real estate developers are bulldozing dunes to make room for luxury resorts—and upending the lives and livelihoods of local communities. 

“There used to be 1,200 acres of dunes. Now, more than half are gone,” says Karnan, a local farmer. 

Many international organizations and funders have long focused on forests and mangroves as critical ecosystems and biodiversity strongholds. But despite their importance, dunes have rarely received the same attention.  

The consequences have already been dire: saltwater has contaminated many freshwater ponds, rendering them useless for agriculture. Many farmers have been forced to migrate to cities in search of work. 

“More than half the water has turned salty,” Karnan says. “When real estate people sell the land, even the people who come to live here will be affected with water issues. . . What is the use of money with no water?” 

A woman looks at GIS mapping software on a computer.
Local activists are using GIS technology to map critical ecosystems.

Ancestral Wisdom Meets Modern Technology 

Fishing communities along the coast of Tamil Nadu have long relied on traditional wisdom, passed down through generations, to respectfully steward the land and sea in harmony with nature.  

Satish, from the village of Alamparai, is the latest in a long line of fishermen in his family. He remembers learning from his ancestors how to make his living on the ocean. “They also told us about the importance of sand dunes,” he says. 

Facing the modern problem of profit-driven overdevelopment, Satish and his community have combined their traditional knowledge with a distinctly 21st-century solution: geographic information system (GIS) mapping. 

Under India’s 1986 Environment Protection Act, these sand dunes should be classified as CRZ-1 areas—the highest level of legal protection for the most ecologically essential Coastal Regulation Zones. But many of the dunes are not yet marked on official Coastal Zone Management Plans. Without this documentation, local communities have little access to legal recourse against development. 

The Coastal Resource Center (CRC), a grassroots group led by activists from these fishing communities, is using cutting-edge GIS technology to map the dunes and prove what local people have always known: that these vital formations must be protected from exploitation and destruction. 

Their innovative approach—combining traditional wisdom with modern technical expertise—is already paying off. In March 2025, the government of Tamil Nadu began recognizing some of the sand dunes and fishing areas in its official maps. This is a significant milestone for the community: after many years of campaigning to protect their lands, official recognition of the CRZ status is helping them to stop the real estate bulldozers in their tracks. 

In addition to mapping, the Coastal Resource Center helps ensure that local people understand their rights and how to use them. They’ve translated new policies into local languages, making sure that technical legal information is clear and accessible for those it impacts most. They have facilitated community meetings over many years to educate about conservation laws and regulations like the CRZ. And building on this base of knowledge, they have worked closely with the communities to develop effective lobbying campaigns and legal cases against destructive development projects. 

“Fifteen years ago, no one here knew what CRZ is,” says Satish. “Now, from the oldest person to the youngest kid, everyone will tell you what CRZ is.” 

With the advocacy and support of the Coastal Resource Center, local fisherfolk and farmers now have a seat at the decision-making table. Their representatives are working side by side with authorities to decide how coastal land is managed and have established a formal process for challenging overdevelopment. After years of exploitation, these communities can finally secure legal protections as the custodians of their ancestral lands. 

A fisherman untangles his nets against a blue sky.
Satish, a fisherman from the village of Alamparai.

Local Solutions to a Global Problem 

The commodification of coastal lands without the free, prior, and informed consent of local communities isn’t unique to India—it’s a major problem around the world. But with support from the Fund for Global Human Rights, grassroots activists have held the line against corporate greed and government collusion. 

In the Philippines, fishing communities along the coast of Bataan have been displaced by massive industrial projects like shipyards and coal mines. Supported by the Legal Empowerment Fund, the Nuclear and Coal Free Bataan Movement has helped them organize to demand accountability and challenge corporate impunity. 

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On the Atlantic coast of Honduras, palm oil plantations and tourist resorts have driven Afro-Indigenous Garifuna communities from land they legally owned. With the support of grantee partner OFRANEH, these communities successfully petitioned the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights for protection and restitution. In two landmark rulings, the commission found that the Honduran state had failed to respect the Garifuna communities’ ownership rights and ordered reparations including future protections for ancestral lands.  

From India to Honduras, Indigenous activists have shown how locally rooted movements can safeguard livelihoods, biodiversity, and culture. Around the world, these grassroots groups are creating hope in their communities. Their victories—against forceful opposition—are testament to the collective power of organized activism. After decades of exploitation by corporate actors and inaction on the part of their governments, local people are taking matters into their own hands—and defending the vital ecosystems that sustain us all. 

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But grassroots groups working to protect vital ecosystems struggle to access funding—even as biodiversity loss accelerates. Of the $1.7 billion pledged to resource Indigenous and locally led conservation at COP26 in 2021, one analysis found that only 2.9 percent went directly to Indigenous or local groups. 

Earlier this year, governments adopted the first global strategy to finance biodiversity, recognizing that there is a $700 billion funding gap between current funding pledges and the resources needed to protect our planet. This is a welcome first step.  

But to truly meet this enormous task, philanthropy too needs to significantly step up the amount of dedicated support for this work. Most critically, we must ensure it reaches those on the front lines: the affected communities and community-led activists who time and time again have proven that they are best placed to drive equitable and just solutions.  

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