In 1910, a Brazilian military engineer embraced the chief of the Nambikwara tribe, an indigenous people living in the Amazon. Three generations later, the once 5000-strong tribe only numbered 550 - many of them fallen to diseases such as the common cold and influenza, to which they had no immunity. This story has long stood as an example for the harm that outside intervention, even when well-intentioned, can do. But in recent years, with more sophisticated techniques and the heightened threat of deforestation and invasion against such uncontacted peoples, an ethical debate rages on whether contact should be made.

Illegal logging, mining and drug trafficking are three of the biggest threats facing the uncontacted tribes of South America. Massacres and disease in an ever-shrinking forest are on the rise, and as a result the survival of the tribes is at risk. But is making contact with them the solution? On the one hand, those in the “no contact” camp warn not only of the health risks, but of the consequent cultural dilution that may occur if the tribes survive. Conversely, the “contact” camp argues that the high vulnerability of the tribes paired with the medical advantages of the outside world means that it would be unethical to not offer endangered peoples a chance at a longer, perhaps better, life. 

The no contact argument

The primary argument of those against contact is that focusing on indigenous tribes is an attempt to work around, rather than address, the actual problem. There’s a legal dimension to this. Under the international law for tribal people, nothing may happen on tribal land that does not have the informed consent of its indigenous owners. Those seeking contact are therefore encroaching on the land rights that are so indispensable to indigenous survival. In a sense, contact expeditions are less extreme forms of territorial invasion, forcing contact upon those who may not want it, or even fear it. In fact, there have been cases when contacted peoples have subsequently retreated even further into the forest to avoid being found again. Detailed planning and numerous precautions cannot, and often do not, provide a guarantee against the spread of disease. 

Rather than trying to pacify the communities about the fact that their land is being stolen and their people killed, the focus should be shifted towards those who are doing the stealing and the killing. In fact, there has been slow but sure evidence that legal enforcement against the perpetrators could work, with evicted loggers and gold miners repeatedly being thrown off the land. Furthermore, the only guaranteed way to preserve the diversity of the rainforest is to leave it in the hands of its original inhabitants, whose symbiotic relationship with the forest has long served both sides. 

The contact argument 

Regardless of whether they want to be contacted or not, indigenous people do not always have a choice. Run-ins with drug runners and illegal loggers have often proved fatal for those who cannot protect themselves against modern guns, and with the forests getting smaller, such clashes are bound to become more common. Many in favour of contact argue that in this case, human survival must trump cultural continuity. After all, if humans cease to exist, so will their culture. Nevertheless, the contact camp is not a united front, with some arguing for forced contact and others for minimal contact, only to be initiated if the tribes have shown signs of willingness. For instance, there are plans for initiating contact with the Mashco Piro tribe, after they emerged from the forests into surrounding villages on several occasions. However, such emergences have been limited to things such as the exchange of fruit, sparking the question of what degree of interaction is being sought. Nevertheless, those supporting forced contact argue that isolation is not a viable option, and that it would be unethical to not provide 21st century medical treatment to those who are already facing dwindling populations and lower life expectancy.

The viability of sensible solutions

There have been efforts for controlled contact that include extensive medical precautions in order to provide the tribes only with cures, not diseases. Sometimes, there seems to cautionary evidence that this may work. The Sapanahua tribe, who made contact by coming out of the forests after having been massacred at least twice, were provided with health care by the Brazilian government and did not suffer any further deaths afterwards. Yet in another instance, contact with the Arara indigenous peoples resulted in death by disease, despite detailed precautions that involved a system of experienced doctors, medicines, and transport. As important as sensible solutions may be, they may not be as easy to implement. In 2015, FUNAI, the Brazilian federal agency responsible for indigenous people, received only $1.15 million - only 15% of the amount requested. The year before, FUNAI received only 15 out of 30 requested frontier outposts. 

Ultimately, there is no one formula that can be applied to all. Depending on the behaviour and situation of the tribe, the extent of contact (if there is any contact at all) must be adapted to the context and needs of those involved. The debate is a polarisation of different ethical questions: should we keep a distance from those who have existed without outside involvement for thousands of years - or is it unethical to deny them the medical treatments that may help guarantee their survival?