Thousands March in Belém for Climate Justice at COP30, Staging ‘Funeral’ for Fossil Fuels

By Suraj Karowa
Belém, Brazil – November 16, 2025

In a vibrant display of global solidarity and defiance, tens of thousands of activists flooded the streets of Belém on Saturday, transforming the Amazonian gateway into a pulsating hub of environmental urgency.

The “Great People’s March” – the largest protest at a UN climate summit since COP26 in Glasgow four years ago – demanded that world leaders at COP30 finally translate rhetoric into radical action on the climate and biodiversity crises.

Amid indigenous chants, Brazilian folk anthems, and a symbolic funeral procession for fossil fuels, marchers from every corner of the globe urged negotiators to confront the existential threats posed by mining, agribusiness, and unchecked emissions.

The demonstration, held at the midpoint of the two-week COP30 talks hosted in Brazil’s northern Pará state, marked a stark contrast to the subdued atmospheres of recent summits in Egypt, the UAE, and Azerbaijan, where authoritarian regimes stifled public dissent.

Here, under a canopy of equatorial skies, the air thrummed with energy. Protesters waved banners in multiple languages, from Portuguese pleas for “environmental justice” to English calls to “pay up” for climate finance.

Palestinian flags fluttered alongside images of endangered rainforest species, underscoring the intersectional fight against colonialism, extraction, and ecological collapse.
At the march’s heart was a profound indigenous presence.

Early risers gathered beneath a towering inflatable globe, their faces adorned with ochre paints and feathers evoking ancestral spirits.

Raquel Wapichana, a 34-year-old activist who journeyed nine grueling hours from the remote Roraima territory, clutched a handmade sign reading “Vamos a Luta!” – “Let’s Struggle!” “I am here for my people, my land, our rivers, and our ancestors,” she told reporters, her voice steady despite the exhaustion.

“We face constant threats from mining, agribusiness, and land invasions. This is a fight for our survival – not just ours, but the planet’s.”

The procession’s most haunting spectacle unfolded mid-route: a “funeral for fossil fuels.” Draped in black shawls, a cadre of mourners – actors, artists, and elders – bore three massive coffins emblazoned with “coal,” “oil,” and “gas.”

Flanking them were colossal grim reaper puppets, their skeletal frames swaying like specters from a Tim Burton fever dream. Krishna, a local performer veiled in lace and clutching a funereal umbrella, channeled Victorian gothic as she eulogized the end of the carbon era.

“Our lives, our children’s futures – they all hinge on ditching these poisons,” she declared. “Through art, through this struggle, we bury the past to birth something alive.”

Anti-capitalist fervor surged in pockets throughout the throng. A sprawling banner proclaimed: “Environmental collapse is capitalist: Lula, the energy transition with Amazon oil is a farce.”

Blasting from a mobile sound system was the defiant strains of Bella Ciao, the Italian partisan anthem repurposed for eco-rebels. Maria Melia, a leader from Maranhão’s Quilombola Movement – descendants of escaped enslaved Africans – marched with steely resolve.

Her community battles a proposed “hydrovia” waterway project that would carve through sacred lands, accelerating deforestation and flooding. “We’re defending the Amazon from greed disguised as progress,” Melia said. “Lula talks green, but oil rigs in our backyard? That’s betrayal.”

Biodiversity stole the spotlight in whimsical yet poignant vignettes. Scores of demonstrators hoisted life-sized effigies of capybaras, jaguars, and pink river dolphins – Amazonian icons imperiled by habitat loss.

Fabricio, a young ecologist cradling a capybara placard, emphasized the often-overlooked victims. “Negotiators obsess over emissions, but forget the web of life,” he urged. “Animals aren’t collateral; protecting biodiversity is the real climate win.”

Echoes of global strife wove through the crowd. Palestinian solidarity was omnipresent: keffiyehs knotted around necks, chants of “Free Palestine” syncing with calls for “climate debt cancellation.” Classic Brazilian tunes like Alceu Valença’s Anunciação boomed from speakers, a rhythmic reminder of cultural resilience amid crisis.

Trailing the vanguard was a 30-meter-long serpentine marvel: a woven “cobra” sculpture, sacred to Amazonian indigenous lore and a sly pun on the Portuguese for “pay up.” Crafted by 16 artists from Santarém and ferried by boat by the People’s Alliance youth network, the beast required 83 bearers to slither through Belém’s boulevards.

Helena Ramos, coordinator for the grassroots Amazônia da Pé coalition, beamed as the group dismantled it post-march. “This cobra embodies our demand: rich nations must fund the frontlines,” she explained.

Inspired by an indigenous elder’s dream, the installation symbolized both reverence and reckoning – a sinuous plea for reparations to shield the Amazon’s guardians.

As the sun dipped, casting golden hues over the dispersing masses, the weight of COP30’s unfinished business loomed. Brazilian hosts, led by President Lula da Silva, have eschewed a traditional “cover decision” – the gavel-struck communiqués of past summits – in favor of a pragmatic pivot to implementation.

Yet deadlock persists on the “big four”: mobilizing trillions in climate finance, reconciling trade policies with emissions cuts, bolstering transparency in reporting, and overhauling woefully inadequate national plans that doom the 1.5°C target.

Delegates, sequestered in air-conditioned halls mere kilometers away, grapple with these chasms. Indigenous-led blockades earlier in the week spotlighted Tapajós River threats, while subnational leaders – over 100 from the U.S. alone, snubbing a Trump-boycotted delegation – vow to bypass federal inertia.

UN chief António Guterres has decried the 1.5°C shortfall as a “moral failure,” and scientists warn of tipping points unless carbon removal scales urgently.

For the marchers, yesterday’s roar was no mere catharsis; it was a clarion call. In Belém, where the Amazon’s lungs gasp under assault, the people’s march insists: the era of half-measures is over. Governments must heed the streets – or history will judge them as pallbearers to a dying world.