Indigenous Women on the Frontlines: Redefining investment risk in the energy transition

Her own community exemplifies this approach. Fort Nelson First Nation is developing the Tu Deh-Kah Geothermal project, a 100% Indigenous-owned renewable energy initiative. After four years of work and drilling of two full-size geothermal wells, preliminary findings indicate temperatures of at least 120 degrees Celsius — enough to power not just the community, but potentially commercial operations including lithium extraction from geothermal brine.

“I really believe in what we’re doing and the tools that we’re creating for our members to be able to realize their dreams,” says Gale. But she’s also realistic about the barriers: “It is difficult for First Nations to access capital or federal loan guarantees, and that is something I am going to work toward remedying.”

For investors, Gale’s model offers a roadmap. The FNMPC emphasizes that “including Indigenous nations as equity owners is a very effective way to get our informed consent while ensuring that we benefit from resource development and have control over environmental and social impacts.” This isn’t charity — it’s risk management that creates long-term value.

The Polaris Minerals example demonstrates this principle. In 2002, Polaris entered a joint venture with the Hupacasath and Ucluelet First Nations for a 100-year quarry project on Vancouver Island. The First Nations hold significant equity positions as equal partners. The result? Operational improvements through Indigenous environmental perspectives, long-term stability that survived corporate acquisition in 2017, and a partnership model that creates aligned incentives and reduces conflict.

Dorece Sam: protecting sacred ground at Thacker Pass

Four thousand kilometers south, in the high desert of northern Nevada, a different kind of battle is unfolding. Dorece Sam, a member of the Fort McDermitt Paiute-Shoshone Tribe and President of the Native American Indian Church of Nevada, stands on land her people call Peehee Mu’huh — “Rotten Moon.”

This is Thacker Pass, the site of what’s believed to be North America’s largest lithium deposit. It’s also the site of two massacres. In September 1865, the U.S. cavalry attacked a camp at the base of the pass, attempting to exterminate the region’s Indigenous Peoples. Sam’s great-great-grandfather, Ox Sam, was the sole adult survivor. Today, the land holds 923 Native cultural sites, including the graves of Sam’s ancestors.

“I’m being threatened with arrest for protecting the graves of my ancestors,” Sam said after being hit with a Temporary Protective Order for attempting to halt construction at the site.

The Bureau of Land Management approved Lithium Americas’ mining project in January 2021, rushing an Environmental Impact Statement through in the final days of the Trump administration. The company claims it conducted “intensive consultation” with tribes. But a 133-page Human Rights Watch report released in February 2025 concluded that the U.S. government violated Indigenous peoples’ rights by failing to obtain Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC). The extent of consultation, HRW found, was three rounds of mailings to three tribal governments.

For investors, Thacker Pass is becoming a case study in how ignoring FPIC creates cascading financial risks:

Budget explosion: The project’s initial budget of $2.27 billion has increased to $2.93 billion — a 29% cost overrun of $660 million. Drivers include permitting issues, litigation, and delays.

Timeline failures: Originally targeting production by 2026, the project faces significant delays with ongoing legal challenges from six tribes.

Financial losses: The company reported $42.6 million in net losses from exploration, administrative, and transaction costs, with liabilities rising to $99.6 million.

Uncertain viability: Lithium Americas has warned that “commercial viability is uncertain” and the company “lacks history of completing mining projects.”

Investor exposure: General Motors invested $650 million in the project, despite GM’s own Human Rights Policy committing to the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and FPIC. The company has not paused its investment to assess Indigenous rights risk.

The pattern is familiar. The Dakota Access Pipeline, initially budgeted at $3.8 billion, ultimately cost $12 billion — an $8.2 billion overrun driven by failure to obtain consent from the Standing Rock Sioux. Energy Transfer Partners’ stock declined 20% while the S&P 500 rose 35% during the same period. Multiple European banks withdrew financial commitments following shareholder advocacy campaigns.

Sam and the grassroots organization People of Red Mountain aren’t anti-development. They’re demanding what international law guarantees them: the right to free, prior and informed consent — including the right to say no. Their billboard campaign across northern Nevada declares simply: “Life Over Lithium” and “Ecosystems Over Lithium.”

“We can’t flush out all of the water from out of here and rip up all the grass, and the sage brush and flip it around and call it green energy,” says Gary McKinney, a tribal activist who has camped at Thacker Pass in protest for months.

Yvonne Margarula: lessons from the Uranium Wars

Halfway around the world in Australia’s Northern Territory, the struggle of the Mirrar people against uranium mining offers crucial lessons for today’s lithium rush. Yvonne Margarula, senior traditional owner and leader of the Gundjehmi Aboriginal Corporation, became a Goldman Prize recipient and the first Aboriginal person to address the UNESCO World Heritage Committee when she opposed the Jabiluka uranium mine in 1999.

Despite statutory land rights in the Northern Territory, the Mirrar discovered that legal recognition doesn’t automatically translate to decision-making power. The Australian government remained committed to uranium mining in an area of immense cultural and spiritual significance, cutting across Mirrar dreaming tracks and containing archaeological sites like Malakananja II that helped earn Kakadu National Park its World Heritage status.

Margarula and co-recipient Jacqui Katona, Executive Officer of the Gundjehmi Aboriginal Corporation, led a campaign that combined direct action, parliamentary inquiry and international advocacy. Their presentation to UNESCO moved the Committee to affirm the uniqueness and importance of Mirrar culture and the enormous threat mining posed to it. The Committee secured an apology from Energy Resources of Australia, and work at Jabiluka ceased indefinitely in July 1999.

Today, Australia faces similar dynamics with lithium. A 2024 study published in Energy Research & Social Science found that 57.8% of Australia’s operational mines are located on land where Indigenous Australians hold either exclusive or non-exclusive rights to negotiate. When considering land where native title claims have been applied for but not granted, this increases to 79.2%.

In Cape York Peninsula of Northern Queensland, 71 lithium mining exploration permits have been granted on land classified as Aboriginal “freehold” – yet traditional landowners have no decision-making rights in the issuance of permits. The Olkola Aboriginal Corporation, which holds plans for protecting endangered species habitat rather than lithium extraction, is mobilizing for an overhaul of the Native Title Act.

The investment implications are stark. Rio Tinto’s destruction of the 46,000-year-old Juukan Gorge sacred site in 2020 — to expand an iron ore mine — led to the resignation of the CEO and two other executives, over $600 million in damages and remediation costs, and lasting reputational damage. In another case, the Yindjibarndi Aboriginal Corporation is seeking $1.8 billion in compensation from Fortescue Metals Group over cultural and economic losses at the Solomon Hub mine.

Australia’s recent referendum rejecting Indigenous constitutional recognition and a Parliamentary voice demonstrates the political challenges. Yet as Jamie Croker, a First Nations advocate, told Mongabay: “We want our people employed, our businesses preferred, and our families and communities to finally have a window of opportunity for economic development from projects built on our land.”

The absence of FPIC processes, Croker explained, is why conflicts between First Nations and mining companies occur. “That means a seat at the decision-making table, a share in the benefits, minimum equity and co-ownership or ownership of projects.”

What investors must do

These three women — Sharleen building partnership models, Dorece defending sacred ground, Yvonne demonstrating the power of persistence — represent what investors can no longer ignore. With the use of artificial intelligence, improved geospatial datasets and new analytical tools, investors can now integrate risks related to Indigenous Peoples into mainstream investment analytics.

The Sustainable Indigenous Finance: Navigating the Energy Transition guide which was released on Indigenous Peoples Day in October 2025 by First Peoples Worldwide, ImpactARC and US SIF provides a three-tier framework:

Institutional Level: Do investment teams understand international standards like UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169? Have you established Indigenous advisory groups? Is there board-level accountability for Indigenous engagement?

Portfolio Level: Conduct high-level screening using tools like LandMark, EJAtlas, and Native Land Digital to identify which holdings overlap Indigenous territories. Screen for past controversies. Identify high-risk sectors including extractive minerals, renewable energy infrastructure, and their supply chains.

Company and Project Level: Evaluate whether companies have robust policies that explicitly recognize Indigenous rights and commit to FPIC — including the right to say no.

Look for green flags:

•  Indigenous equity ownership and co-governance structures

•  Benefit-sharing agreements developed WITH communities, not imposed on them

•  Board-level reporting on Indigenous engagement

•  Companies that recognize Indigenous Peoples as rights-holders, not just stakeholders

Red flags to avoid:

•  Policies that only commit to “consultation” rather than “consent”

•  Rushed timelines that preclude meaningful engagement

•  Community Benefits Agreements that divide communities

•  Companies that describe Indigenous Peoples only as “vulnerable groups”

The financial case is clear. Projects with meaningful Indigenous partnership, like the 30-year success of Red Dog Mine in Alaska through partnership with NANA Regional Corporation, demonstrate that genuine consent creates stability. Projects that ignore consent face the Thacker Pass pattern: cost overruns, delays, legal challenges, reputational damage, and uncertain viability.

A different kind of green

The energy transition will either repeat the extractive colonialism of the past or rewrite it. Sharleen Gale, Dorece Sam, and Yvonne Margarula — along with thousands of Indigenous women leaders across the globe — are drawing the line.

476 million Indigenous people steward half the world’s land, including 85% of lithium reserves and 75% of manganese deposits essential for batteries. They’re not going away. They’re organizing across borders, using international law, engaging investors directly, and when necessary, putting their bodies on the line to protect their ancestors’ graves.

Twenty-five years ago, I created the first Indigenous Peoples investment criteria. Wall Street thought it was a nice gesture. Today, with half the energy transition depending on Indigenous lands, they can no longer afford to be wrong.

These three women are proving that Indigenous Peoples aren’t obstacles to the energy transition — they’re essential partners in getting it right. The question for investors isn’t whether to consider Indigenous rights in their portfolios. It’s whether they’re prepared to fulfill their fiduciary duty by doing so.

As Sharleen Gale reminds us: First Nations need “the opportunity to have equity in major project infrastructure and access to meaningful financing for these projects happening in their territories. One that focuses on a balanced approach of economic prosperity and environmental stewardship.”

The only road to net zero runs through Indigenous lands. These three women are showing investors the cost of taking a shortcut – and the value of taking the right path.

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Article by Rebecca Adamson is a Cherokee economist and founder of First Peoples Worldwide. She served as Trustee for Calvert Social Investment Funds from 1989 – 2020 where she created the first Indigenous Peoples Rights Investment Criteria in 1994 and the first Impact Investing initiative High Social Impact Investing HSII 1998. Recently she co-authored the Sustainable Indigenous Finance Guide, released in partnership with US SIF and ImpactARC. Contact her for more information and the sources for this article at- radamson@firstpeoples.org