Indigenous Sovereignty & Self-Government

Just as minorities seeking or enjoying territorial autonomy should be seen as nations, the same is true of Indigenous peoples, on account of prior claims to territory and sovereignty. This is evident in the term First Nations, which signifies being prior, plural, and political. While status as a member of an ethnic minority may be an issue of self-definition, cultural difference, or physiology, Indigenous status has special legal relevance; “Indigenous peoples can claim minority rights under international law, but specific international mandates and mechanisms also exist to protect the individual and collective rights of indigenous peoples” (UN 2018: 97-98).Footnote ¹

In the face of colonial expansion and migration, Indigenous communities have by no means been passive ‘vanishing races’. From violent resistance to peaceful civil rights activism, Indigenous peoples have mobilised against exclusion, assimilation, and historical injustices. Examples include the American Indian Movement and Dakota Access Pipeline (Smith and Warrior Reference Smith and Warrior1996); Meech Lake, the Oka Crisis, and Idle No More (Coates Reference Coates2015); #LandBack movements (Spang Reference Spang2022); and uprisings in Chiapas Mexico, Guatemala, and Bolivia (Warren and Jackson Reference Warren and Jackson2002)—to name a few. Indigenous peoples have used various forms of activism to voice their demands, rooted locally and connected globally (Carlson and Berglund Reference Carlson and Berglund2021). Indigenous movements often voice their demands in terms of sovereignty and self-determination (Wunder Reference Wunder1997). For Moreton-Robinson (Reference Moreton-Robinson and Moreton-Robinson2020: 3), “Despite the continued disavowal” by settler states, declarations of “Indigenous sovereignty” are common grounds for Indigenous communities. Article 3 of the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP 2007) states that “Indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination.”

What this means in practice, though, varies. Many Indigenous activists reject self-government as insufficient or oppressive. For Taiaiake Alfred (Reference Alfred2005: 31), First Nations have been “coopted into movements of ‘self-government’ and ‘land claims settlements,’ which are goals defined by the colonial state.” Legacies of reservation governments dominated by federal agencies and staffed by pliant chiefs have led Indigenous activists to reject self-government as insufficient in the pursuit of full decolonisation. Indigenous communities have long endured settler states using tribal governments as systems of domination rather than representation. For some, sovereignty means something more radical, perhaps the cessation of settler control, revolutionary socioeconomic transformation, or dispossessing settler property. Coulthard rejects the politics of recognition, arguing that self-government reproduces colonial hierarchies. Echoing Fanon, self-government without revolution fails to be “truly self-determining… as the creators of the terms and values by which they are to be recognized” (Reference Coulthard2007: 450). Coulthard sees self-government as falling far short of self-determination, preserving “the ultimate sovereign authority” of settler states (Reference Coulthard2014: 123). Loukacheva (Reference Loukacheva2007: 52) notes that many Indigenous peoples see self-government as “voluntary colonialism”, retaining Western governance and dependency. Rather than accept or even negotiate self-government with settler states, Indigenous peoples may prefer to carry on with de facto informal governments operating beyond state recognition and control (Burguete Cal y Mayor Reference Cal, Mayor, González, Funaki, Cal, Mayor and Ortiz-T2023; Champagne Reference Champagne2013: 12). For Indigenous communities, “Self-determination is usually understood as a means of gaining distance from, rather than inclusion in, state institutions” (Murphy Reference Murphy2008: 185).

Indigenous activists may be suspicious of electoral politics and government, although it is unclear if this understandable scepticism is towards government in general or institutions created by (and for) settler states. While perhaps sympathetic to radical demands, many Indigenous peoples seek concrete ways to protect their cultures, address social issues, and represent their nations through self-government. Indigenous communities are often pragmatic, seeing potential to work within settler colonialism to create new models of governance (Wilson and Alcantara Reference Wilson and Alcantara2012: 784). And while there may be similar voices in Asian autonomous regions, these critiques and critics are focused on Indigenous self-government in American settler colonialism. Powerful autonomous self-government is never offered freely by settler governments, but instead won and sustained through struggle. As Papillion (Reference Papillon2012: 290) observes, “Indigenous autonomy faces considerable institutional resistance”, growing only through communities “asserting their political autonomy and establishing the legitimacy and authority of their governments.” Just as territorial autonomy is typically granted only after protest and conflict, the ability of Indigenous communities to manage their own legal systems, communal lands, social services, and resources is a result of sustained activism rather than a gift from enlightened national authorities.

Towards Indigenous Autonomy

In theory and practice, territorial autonomy and Indigenous sovereignty rarely speak to one another, even though both involve minority nations seeking to regain sovereignty from host states. It is possible that many Indigenous peoples fear being seen by host states as secessionist, and scholars may not want to imperil these communities by linking them to separatism, especially in Asia. Of course, territorial autonomy is not secession, but rather an alternative to it. Building from a right to Indigenous self-determination in Article 3, UNDRIP’s Article 4 states that Indigenous peoples possess “the right to autonomy or self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs, as well as ways and means for financing their autonomous functions.” This right to self-determination through autonomous self-government has no equivalent for other minorities.

Scholars typically see autonomy as different than Indigenous government, especially in the form of reservation governments (Benedikter Reference Benedikter2009: 15). Rezvani (Reference Rezvani2014: 204) writes off reservation governments as “sham federacies” that control Indigenous peoples, although he notes that Nunavut has achieved partial independence and sovereignty (208). Lapidoth (Reference Lapidoth1997: 5-6) hesitantly separates Indigenous self-determination from territorial autonomy, lying beyond her book’s scope. Research on territorial autonomy only sometimes includes references to Indigenous autonomous regions. It is not uncommon for edited volumes to include Nunavut or Greenland, seen as akin to Quebec or Scotland, with limited reflection on their distinctive Indigenous elements. Hannum (Reference Hannum1990) includes a chapter on Indigenous rights, framing territorial autonomy as an ideal mechanism for Indigenous self-determination. The Regional Authority Index (RAI), the dominant measure of subnational government power, includes a special dataset for Indigenous autonomy, defined as “general purpose jurisdiction created with the explicit purpose to provide governance for an indigenous people or peoples” (Shair-Rosenfield et al. Reference Shair-Rosenfield, Schakel, Niedzwiecki, Marks, Hooghe and Chapman-Osterkatz2021). Some research on territorial autonomy thus examines Indigenous self-government, but with a vague sense of what makes it distinctive.

Some studies of Indigenous self-government refer to territorial autonomy, especially in Latin America and the Arctic, developing models of Indigenous autonomy. González (Reference González2015) analyses early Indigenous autonomous regions in Panama and Nicaragua. Panama’s Guna Yala has practised self-government for over a century, with smaller self-governing Indigenous regions created in subsequent years. Perhaps because they use the term ‘autonomy’ in their names, Nicaragua’s RAAN (Región Autónoma de la Costa Caribe Norte) and RAAS (Región Autónoma de la Costa Caribe Sur) are often studied as autonomous regions (Baracco Reference Baracco2019; Sánchez Reference Sánchez2007). In Bolivia, Postero and Tockman (Reference Postero and Tockman2020) analyze the Charagua Indigenous autonomous government and potential for new regions going forward. Although critical of the limited results, Anthias (Reference Anthias2022: 130) identifies pathways to “Indigenous autonomy” in the Bolivian constitution. An especially valuable volume is Indigenous Territorial Autonomy and Self-Government in the Diverse Americas (González et al. 2023), which provides detailed discussions of Indigenous autonomy across Latin America (see also Blaser et al. Reference Blaser, de Costa, McGregor and Coleman2010).

Arctic regions also see growing scholarship on Indigenous autonomy. Studies compare Inuit autonomy in Greenland and Nunavut (Loukacheva Reference Loukacheva2007), third-tier nested autonomy in Northern Canada (White Reference White2023; Wilson et al. Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020), and the evolution of autonomy in Nunavut (Henderson Reference Henderson2007). A special issue of The Polar Journal (Jakobsen et al. Reference Jakobsen, Larsen and Stewart2024) charts the evolution of Indigenous self-government in Greenland, Sami communities, Nunavut, and third-tier Inuit regions in Canada. Kuokkanen (Reference Kuokkanen2017: 193) observes how Indigenous ideas of self-determination diverge from the Westphalian nation-state, with Indigenous autonomy “pushing the boundaries” of sovereignty. Examining Indigenous governance across Canada, Greenland, and the Sami of Scandinavia, Kuokkanen (Reference Kuokkanen2019) suggests that an emphasis on political autonomy too often comes at the expense of gender equality, suggesting that Indigenous autonomy is incomplete.

The above studies frame Indigenous autonomy as a more assertive form of native self-government. It differs from mainstream territorial autonomy in key dimensions, summarised in Table 1, although not all cases feature each of these traits. Above all, the titular communities in Indigenous autonomy must be self-identified Indigenous peoples, typically small-scale sovereign communities. While autonomous regions tend to be negotiated with host states, Indigenous autonomy also involves juridical approaches, using courts to reclaim unceded lands and government powers. This is because Indigenous autonomy involves claims that predate the host state, often on lands that were never formally ceded, and because Indigenous self-government is enshrined in international law. Many of the powers emphasised in Indigenous autonomous regions focus on reclaiming ancestral lands (collective ownership and stewardship) and managing hunting/fishing resources. Indigenous autonomy prioritises language and cultural revival, with a central place for elders, oral histories, and Indigenous pedagogies to overcome legacies of assimilationist schooling (Nakata et al. Reference Nakata, Nakata, Keech and Bolt2012). Another aspect relates to citizenship, developing rules for recognizing Indigenous status persons and then extending special rights, thus incorporating aspects of non-territorial autonomy. While most autonomous regions see governments led by separatist parties, either elected against national parties or former rebels, Indigenous autonomous regions often eschew party competition, with leadership derived from local communities, traditional chiefs, and elders. Governance is also frequently carried out by public corporations, sometimes serving status Indigenous persons while the autonomous government serves all residents (Wilson, Alcantara, and Rodon Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020).

Table 1:

Key Dimensions of Mainstream Territorial Autonomy and Indigenous Autonomy

Table 1: Long description

The table compares two autonomy models across constituents, origins, powers, leadership, and scale. Territorial autonomy applies to former independent kingdoms or countries and typically arises from negotiations with national governments. Its powers emphasize culture and language, fiscal authority, and control over natural resources, and leadership is often through separatist or nationalist parties. Indigenous autonomy applies to self-defined Indigenous, self-governing, usually non-state peoples and often develops through legal recognition and court-won rights. Its powers are wider and more community-centered, including collective land ownership, hunting and fishing, policing, culture and language, limits on migration, and rules for citizenship or status, with leadership commonly by chiefs and elders or public corporations. In scale, territorial autonomy is framed as a single subnational unit, whereas Indigenous autonomy is described as multi-level and decentralized to communities, sometimes forming confederations and maintaining transnational or global links. The comparison highlights that territorial autonomy is more state-territory focused, while Indigenous autonomy is more people- and rights-based, though real-world arrangements can overlap.

Indigenous autonomy also stands out for its distinctive scale, exemplifying Multi-Level Governance (MLG). While other autonomous regions are former independent states, Indigenous autonomy involves diverse non-state peoples. And while autonomous regions are typically centralised, emulating the nation-state (Barter Reference Barter2018), Indigenous autonomy tends to be decentralised. Indigenous autonomy prioritises community governance, sometimes under larger regional governments tasked with external affairs. Many Indigenous autonomous regions associate as part of larger confederacies, most famously the Iroquois, but also in Latin America; the Bolivian Constitution provides Indigenous municipalities the right to amalgamate into confederacies (Postero and Tockman Reference Postero and Tockman2020: 7). Governance sometimes spans subnational and international borders. For instance, Guna Yala in Panama includes governance for smaller Guna regions in Panama as well as Guna in Colombia, while Sami peoples in Scandinavia have national as well as pan-Arctic institutions. Indigenous autonomy is uniquely global, engaging with the UN (especially UNDRIP and the UN Working Group on Indigenous Populations) and International Labour Organisation (ILO) alongside other Indigenous regions.

These features speak to the importance of seeing Indigenous autonomy as a distinct form of territorial autonomy. This said, there are important continuities. Both feature minorities with territorial claims and a sense of sovereignty, often forcibly incorporated into colonial states. Both seek to protect local culture and manage natural resources. While some autonomous regions are settler communities (i.e., Quebec), most feature a sense of nativism and autochthony, with titular groups present since time immemorial. Some Western autonomous regions include features resembling Indigenous autonomy, such as Åland’s citizenship regime or language revitalisation in Wales. Although Indigenous peoples are distinct from ‘ethnic minorities’, they resemble minorities seeking or wielding autonomy. For Champagne (Reference Champagne2013: 13), ethnic minorities “have collective human rights, but they do not claim to have territorial rights and rights to self-government”; this said, “submerged nations” such as Scotland and Catalonia, whose sovereignty was taken by larger states, resemble Indigenous experiences, even if they are somewhat different on account of historical statehood. Indigenous and minority nations typically see demands for full independence, with autonomy serving as a reluctant compromise.

Figure 1 provides a basic schema, locating Indigenous autonomy as the overlapping space between Indigenous sovereignty on the one hand, and territorial autonomy on the other. I do not seek to simply subsume Indigenous autonomy as a form of autonomy, nor deny broader, more radical demands for Indigenous sovereignty from social movements or larger national programs (such as Bolivia’s constitution), including seeking total secession from a larger state (Inuit Ataĸatigî Party in Greenland) or rejecting formal state institutions (Chiapas). Instead, I frame Indigenous autonomy as one potential realisation of Indigenous self-determination as well as a unique form of territorial autonomy.

Figure 1.

Indigenous Autonomy in Relation to Indigenous Sovereignty and Territorial Autonomy.

Figure 1: Long description

The Venn diagram consists of three sets labeled Indigenous Sovereignty, Indigenous Autonomy, and Territorial Autonomy. The Indigenous Sovereignty set includes the elements Idle No More, Landback, Chiapas, Bolivia, and Secession. The Territorial Autonomy set contains Quebec, Wales, Åland, Catalonia, Aceh, and Mindanao. The overlapping region between Indigenous Sovereignty and Territorial Autonomy is labeled Indigenous Autonomy, which includes Nunavut, Greenland, Nunavik, Guna Yala and Sami Domicile. Each set and overlapping region is clearly defined with specific elements listed under them.

Existing Autonomous Regions: Papua and Guangxi

Territorial autonomy tends to be found in regions with histories of sovereign statehood. But some autonomous regions did not feature states, home to largely non-state spaces prior to incorporation. Such regions tend to be geographically remote and mountainous, home to exceptional ethno-linguistic diversity and localised identities. They typically face encroachment through settler colonialism, with traditional lands appropriated by settlers and corporations. Several cases have formal autonomous status, often compared to other autonomous regions in the same country, but should be understood in terms of Indigenous autonomy.

Indonesia’s Papua provinces provide clear examples. While Indonesian authorities approach Papua as akin to Aceh, with autonomy arrangements on the country’s edges using much of the same language of combating secessionism, Papua is different. Aceh has a proud history of sovereign statehood and large-scale national identity, including a language spoken throughout most of the province. Papua has no such statist history or unified identity, with the island considered “the most ethnically fragmented society in the world” (Reilly Reference Reilly2001: 163). West Papua sees a degree of shared national identity, such as colonial resistance and the morning star flag, but also competing local identities, various armed groups, and different languages (Farneubun (Reference Farneubun2019). Following Indonesia’s annexation of West Papua from Dutch colonisers in 1962, the province saw sustained low-scale separatist conflict and abusive counterinsurgency operations. Rebels have targeted settler migrants, including Javanese settled by state agencies, but especially urban migrants from nearby Sulawesi (Barter and Côté Reference Barter and Côté2015). After the Fall of Suharto, in 2002, Indonesia granted the region special autonomy, known as Otsus (Otonomi Khusus), modeled on Aceh’s initial autonomy law. While Aceh’s rebels rejected this version of autonomy, later negotiating a more robust arrangement, Papua retained Otsus, without a peace agreement. Otsus is widely considered a failure, consisting mostly of economic transfers to coopt local elites, with almost no power to pass local legislation (Barter and Wangge Reference Barter and Wangge2022). Immediately after granting autonomy, Indonesia divided Papua into two provinces, and in 2022, carved out four more, supposedly to better reflect Papuan diversity and popular demands.

Seeing the Papua provinces in terms of Indigenous autonomy, different from Aceh or other post-conflict autonomous regions, is an important step towards understanding its challenges and improving its autonomous governance. The current autonomy laws (replicated in all six provinces) have some unique Indigenous aspects, namely Papuan People’s Councils, upper houses intended to represent traditional chiefs and “open only to Indigenous Papuans” (Aspinall Reference Aspinall2011: 310). While a step towards crafting self-government around Indigenous identity, this body has few powers and limited legitimacy. Understanding Papua in terms of Indigenous autonomy invites comparisons with other Indigenous autonomous regions. Papua may benefit from bodies dedicated to governance for Indigenous peoples alongside territorial government for all residents (as in Nunavut), an emphasis on community policing and local language instruction, collective land rights, restrictions on domestic in-migration and land sales (as in Guna Yala, Panama), and Indigenous stewardship over local resources. Perhaps the most important aspect involves scale. Rather than seeing Papua as one or several provinces, it might be seen as a single confederation decentralised to districts serving localised identities. Minimally, Indigenous autonomy provides a new lens to rethink a failing experiment in territorial autonomy.

A similar case is China’s Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region. As a non-democratic country, meaningful autonomy in China is limited. Then again, Indonesian Papua is hardly democratic, and even autocratic autonomy may bring some benefits. On paper, Guangxi resembles China’s other Autonomous Regions (ARs), including Tibet. But while Tibet has a sense of historical sovereignty and a common national culture linked to language and religion, Guangxi has no such historical state or collective identity. Guangxi is majority Han, with the largest native group being the Zhuang, a term created by China to refer to a highly diverse group of Tai speakers, along with dozens of smaller Indigenous peoples (Kaup Reference Kaup2000). While Tibet has a unified provincial administration, alongside Tibetan autonomous counties outside of Tibet AR, Guangxi AR contains twelve autonomous counties and ten autonomous cities serving smaller minorities. The presence of nested autonomous regions for smaller groups resembles Indigenous autonomy. Guangxi could be understood as an Indigenous autonomous region serving diverse tribal peoples, one very different from Tibet. Seeing Guangxi this way might help to make more sense of its internal autonomous units, perhaps formalised as a confederation.

Nested Indigenous Autonomy: Northeast India, Myanmar, Aceh, and Mindanao

One of the most distinct aspects of Indigenous autonomy is its localised nature. The realities of settler dispossession and diverse Indigenous identities mean that Indigenous autonomy is often rooted in third- or fourth-tier administrative units. The previous group of cases involved diverse Indigenous peoples in larger territorial units. The next group entails smaller Indigenous regions within special second-tier administrative units dominated by larger minority groups. These cases introduce “nested” autonomy, whose smaller scale is often more consistent with Indigenous identification. This also brings complications, as leaders must deal with two layers of government above them (Wilson et al. Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020). I identify two types of cases: Existing districts with Indigenous autonomy within subnational federal units (India and Myanmar) and Indigenous peoples seeking autonomy within autonomous regions (Gayo and Alas in Aceh, Lumad in Mindanao).

India is home to several states created to represent tribal peoples, but also smaller autonomous tribal entities within these states. Hausing (Reference Hausing2022) identifies two types: 10 federally recognised tribal autonomous district councils (in Assam, Meghalaya, Mizoram, and Tripura) and 19 recognised by state governments (in Assam, Manipur, Ladakh, and West Bengal). Councils have powers related to land, culture, law, and taxation. Their political dynamics are especially complex due to their fluid ethnic identities and varied relations with state governments. For example, Mizoram gained statehood in 1987 as a homeland for the Mizo people. Fears of Mizo dominance then sparked mobilisation among smaller minorities. The Pawi–Lakher Regional Council (PLRC) was formed in the 1950s, when part of Assam, later fragmenting into three separate tribal councils within the new Mizoram state (Roluahpuia 2021). These small areas have moderate formal powers, sometimes facing resistance from internal minorities, leading to calls to both deepen self-government powers and create new councils (Singh Reference Singh and Singh2022).

Neighbouring Myanmar is also home to several smaller autonomous areas within minority states. Its six Self-Administered Communities include one special division (Wa State) and five self-administered zones (Danu, Kokang, Naga, Pa Laung, and Pao). These smaller regions were created to recognise smaller groups within ethnic states, but also to reward loyalty to Myanmar. Four of the six are located within the rebellious Shan state, allowing Myanmar to undermine separatists and trade with neighbouring China. Wa State is especially unique, home to a large army that is not clearly a rebel group or pro-state, carving out considerable de facto autonomy (Ong Reference Ong2023). While Indigenous self-governance in contemporary Myanmar is unique, with murky ethnic armed groups and unclear ties to the military government, the localised nature of power and desire for autonomy is consistent with Indigenous autonomy.

While several district councils and zones enjoy formal autonomy within subnational units in northern India and Myanmar, nested autonomy can potentially support Indigenous peoples within existing autonomous regions. This is especially important because autonomy provides titular groups the power to nation-build, policies that often threaten smaller minorities. Aceh was an historical state incorporated by colonisers, gaining autonomy after a sustained struggle. Mindanao is similar, although here, Sulu and Maguindanao were historical states with different ethnic groups, later represented by rival separatist groups. Aceh and Mindanao both contain distinctive Indigenous peoples in their hilly interiors—Gayo and Alas in Aceh, and Lumad in Mindanao. Centuries ago, ethnic Gayo fled Acehnese kings into the interior. Alas are more closely related to North Sumatran Batak, sharing similar clan systems (marga). During Aceh’s secessionist conflict, these groups largely resisted Acehnese rebels, sometimes forming defensive militias (Barter Reference Barter2015). Towards the end of the conflict, Gayo and Alas leaders campaigned to separate from Aceh and form their own province, and under Acehnese autonomy, they have faced exclusion and landlessness. In Mindanao, Lumad is a collective term for diverse hill communities. Largely Christian Lumad peoples have long faced Moro settlers and rebels, as well as Filipino settlers and militias (Parades Reference Paredes2015; Yambao et al. Reference Yambao, Wright, Theriault and Castillo2022). Lumad often speak in terms of a nation (Bangsa), at a broader level through shared colonial experiences, but also in terms of localised nations (Tiu Reference Tiu2009). Lumad have faced landlessness and exclusion both from the host state and the regional Moro majority, during conflict and under autonomy, especially as autonomy enables centralisation and nation-building. Perez (Reference Perez2021: 70) refers to their “double marginalisation”; although the Bangsamoro government considered reserved Lumad legislative seats, such initiatives have been sidelined from autonomous governments created for Moro peoples. Lumad are able to obtain control over local lands through Ancestral Domain, but are not able to form governments to represent their interests.

To protect Indigenous groups within these autonomous regions, it is possible to provide Gayo, Alas, and Lumad districts with recognition and cultural protections. Indigenous autonomy is suitable for smaller-scale autonomous regions within larger ones. It is not uncommon for distinctive communities within autonomous regions to be granted some self-government. Examples include the Aranese Valley of Catalonia, the Ladin regions in South Tyrol, and Nunavik in Quebec.Footnote ³ Some degree of Indigenous recognition and self-government for Gayo, Alas, and Lumad peoples has the potential to protect local culture and reduce ethnic tensions, making for more just, peaceful, autonomous governance.

Indigenous-Majority States and Provinces: Borneo, Myanmar, India, and Yunnan

A third group of cases involves states and provinces with Indigenous majorities that lack formal autonomous status, even if they have some de facto and de jure special powers on account of their ethnic distinctiveness. While Papua and Guangxi already have formal autonomy, their distinctive Indigenous elements have been overlooked; the following cases are Indigenous regions not typically seen in terms of territorial autonomy.

Sabah and Sarawak are large, Indigenous-majority regions that have some special powers on account of their Indigeneity, but are rarely approached in terms of autonomy, let alone Indigenous autonomy. The northern coast of Borneo was the eastern edge of the Brunei Sultanate, as well as the western edge of the Sulu Sultanate, both spreading Islam to coastal Borneo. Colonialism brought missionaries in the 19^th century, converting many animist groups. After WWII, Sabah and Sarawak were under British rule before joining Malaysia in 1963. They did so with special rights enshrined in the 20-Point Agreement, providing a degree of political autonomy, recognition of Indigenous customs and courts, and Indigenous collective land rights. The states retained immigration powers, preventing the sparsely populated territories from being overrun by Malay and Chinese settlers. Additional special protections relate to religion and culture, with exceptions to national Islamic and Malay-language laws (Inguanzo Reference Inguanzo2024: 596-597). Malaysian politics are draped in nativism, with Malay sons of the soil (Bumiputra) contrasted to Malaysians descended from Chinese and Indian settlers. Borneo natives are non-Malay but autochthonous, thus also Bumiputra. Borneo natives differ from Malays, who have a history of Islamic trade and large Sultanates. Sabah and Sarawak natives are ‘Orang Asal’ (Original People).Footnote ⁴ Sabah and Sarawak have exceptional ethnic diversity, with 58% of Sabah and 70% of Sarawak identifying as Orang Asal, which feature many subgroups and intersected by different religions. In Sabah, political power revolves around competition between Indigenous Muslims on the east coast and Christian Kadazan-Dusun on the north coast, with smaller Murut, Rungus, and other communities provided limited recognition. It is often noted that ‘Kadazundusun’ is a broad ethnic construct linking very different groups and excluding others (Bagang, Puyok, and Mersat Reference Bagang, Puyok and Mersat2025). This is a common challenge for Indigenous peoples in larger regions, where identity is pushed to fit oversized administrative containers, leading larger groups to project their identities as common and smaller groups to resist.

Recognizing Sabah and Sarawak as Indigenous autonomous regions would clarify their status and encourage learning from other Indigenous regions. Sabah might benefit from decentralizing power to smaller communities rather than seeking to construct a broader Kadazandusun (or KDM) ethnic group. In many ways, the states already have autonomy and special Indigenous rights, so this would be more about formalizing these aspects. For example, Sabah features the quasi-governmental Kadazan Dusun Cultural Center (KDCA), a “non-political Association of 45 indigenous ethnic communities” created in 1963 to protect Indigenous cultural heritage (KDCA 2023). The KDCA is linked to the Huguan Siou (paramount chief), a sort of Sabahan Head of State intended to represent Indigenous peoples. Such arrangements resemble MLG in Indigenous autonomy, with quasi-government corporations governing Indigenous peoples and protecting Indigenous cultures. Only here, the KDCA speaks for only some Indigenous groups, ruled by coastal Kadazan peoples. Formalizing Indigenous autonomy might involve creating similar bodies for other Indigenous peoples, perhaps an Upper House representing diverse Indigenous communities.

Other ethno-linguistic regions with some de facto autonomy might be considered in terms of Indigenous autonomy. Myanmar presents a complex ethnic landscape, complicated further by ongoing armed conflicts and military rule. Myanmar has a formal ethnofederal design, with states representing Chin, Kachin, Kayah, Kayin, Mon, Rakhine, and Shan peoples. While the Mon and Rakhine share writing and religion with the Burmese and were part of precolonial states, other regions have traditionally been home to diverse non-state peoples (Scott Reference Scott2009). Myanmar’s ethnofederal model is currently in flux due to the coup and ongoing civil wars. Going forward, it may be useful to see the Karen/Kayin, Shan, and Kachin regions in terms of Indigenous autonomy, perhaps decentralizing internal power. This might better reflect local identities, as groups such as the Karen are highly diverse with unclear edges (Thawnghmung Reference Thawnghmung2012). While separatists might see their language groups as unified nations, they increasingly refer to Indigenous rights, both to gain global support and to reflect local diversity (Dunford Reference Dunford2019).

Bordering Myanmar, northeastern India is home to a vast range of ethnic groups, sometimes dubbed “Tribalstan” (Hausing Reference Hausing2022: 127). India’s native Adivasi and Scheduled Tribes are recognised in the fifth and sixth constitutional schedules, providing degrees of self-government to hundreds of groups. Tribal communities have mobilised against internal migration and exclusion, creating Indigenous-majority states. Mountainous, diverse, and rebellious regions such as Nagaland, Manipur, and Meghalaya became Indian states, having been part of autonomous Assam. Gaining statehood in 1987, Arunachal Pradesh is majority (68%) scheduled tribes, with none of its 12 tribal groups being even a quarter of the state’s population. Mizoram was created in 1987 in the aftermath of a native rebellion, carved from Assam to represent the Mizo people. These tribal-majority states are not formally autonomous, but rather ordinary states created for peoples that happen to be tribal, what Hausing (Reference Hausing2022: 123) refers to as “Homeland State Autonomy”. This said, they possess some special powers related to culture, internal minorities, and residency, so they could be seen in terms of Indigenous autonomy (Singh Reference Singh and Singh2022: 3-4). One of the more contentious areas involves restricting internal migration. This is rooted in British colonial ‘Line Systems’, which control migration into Frontier areas. Today, permits are required for Indian citizens wishing to enter northeastern tribal states (Barua Reference Barua2017). Thus, while India does not formally recognise Indigenous peoples and lacks formal Indigenous autonomous regions, it is home to tribal-majority states with special legal status.

Finally, some mention should be made of Yunnan. While Guangxi has formal autonomy and contains autonomous districts, it is China’s second-most diverse province. Located between two ARs, half of China’s 56 recognised ethnic groups reside in Yunnan. Mullaney (Reference Mullaney2004) documents Chinese efforts to classify ethnic groups in Yunnan, initially enumerating hundreds of different groups until government teams with tight deadlines reduced this number to 20. It is puzzling that Yunnan never gained autonomy with Guangxi, especially given its diversity and resistance to Chinese rule (Giersch Reference Giersch2006: 74). Internally, Yunnan features several autonomous regions, including 8 autonomous prefectures and 29 autonomous counties. Yunnan might be approached as a confederation of Indigenous autonomous districts, as it is already internally decentralised to smaller autonomous entities for smaller tribal minorities.

Indigenous Recognition without Self-Government: Hokkaido, Taiwan, and Luzon

The next group of cases involves peoples recognised by their host states as Indigenous, provided rights and cultural protections, and sometimes land rights, but without self-government. Only a handful of Asian governments recognise Indigenous peoples, including the Philippines, Japan, and Taiwan. Recognition matters in its own right, especially since these countries are UNDRIP signatories, giving recognised Indigenous peoples special rights and protections. Although UNDRIP guarantees a right to autonomous self-government, these recognised Indigenous peoples do not yet have self-government.

While imagining itself as a homogenous nation-state, Japan recognises Ainu as Indigenous peoples.Footnote ⁵ The Ainu have traditionally been clan-based, state-resistant, and highly mobile peoples across what is now northern Japan, especially Hokkaido and Sakhalin. After years of Japanese migration, Hokkaido was formally annexed in 1869, with Ainu peoples facing state-sponsored settler colonialism and forced into sedentary lifestyles, including prohibitions against Ainu fishing and hunting in favour of commercial industries. Japanese colonial policy in Ainu territories was guided by American advisers previously involved in Indian removal acts, replicating Western systems of settler colonialism (Grunow et al. Reference Grunow, Nakamura, Hirano, Ishihara, Lewallen, Lightfoot, Mayunkiki, Williams-Davidson and Yahata2019: 603). Japanese state education worked to erase the Ainu languages. Today, Ainu are so assimilated that it is hard to identify who is Ainu, with many Hokkaido residents unaware of or refusing to recognise Ainu heritage (Komai Reference Komai2022). Such thorough colonial erasure complicates the prospects for Indigenous self-government. Still, creating some special status for Hokkaido or specific districts with stronger Ainu identities would help to ensure Japan’s compliance with UNDRIP and promote Ainu culture for all residents. Especially useful could be the Sami example, whose partly non-territorial governance was created for Indigenous peoples that do not form a majority in any specific territory (Kuokkanen Reference Kuokkanen2019). The recent creation of Ainu cultural centres and museums, Ainu studies programs, and efforts to save the language from extinction would be reinforced with a political body for Indigenous peoples.

More than most Asian countries, Taiwan has gone a long way to recognise Indigenous peoples. Indigenous peoples comprise 3-5% of Taiwan’s population, although estimates are challenging due to assimilation and intermarriage. Taiwan’s Indigenous peoples are Austronesian, related to Malays and Filipinos. Taiwan has endured Chinese settler colonialism, with the 17-19^th century migration of Hokkein and Hakka speakers from southern China joined by Mandarin speakers after the 1949 revolution. Concentrated in the central plains and eastern hills, Taiwan created Indigenous townships as early as the 1950s, followed by reserved Indigenous seats in the national legislature, three for mountain communities and three for plains natives. In 1997, Taiwan recognised Indigenous peoples in its constitution and created a Council of Indigenous Peoples, tasked with protecting Indigenous interests and cultures. The Council manages the formal recognition of tribes, growing from 9, to 11, and now 16. Taiwan’s Indigenous politics have always resembled Indigenous politics in settler countries, partly because it is a case of settler colonialism (Simon Reference Simon2023: 39), but also because Indigenous leaders have worked through church networks to cooperate with Indigenous peoples in the Americas, including identifying as nations (guo) instead of tribes (Simon Reference Simon2023: 14). Taiwan’s Indigenous peoples have long mobilised demanding hunting and fishing rights, land title, and territorial autonomy. In 2010, Indigenous protests led Taiwan to promise self-government (Loa Reference Loa2010). In 2020, the Indigenous Taiwan Self-Determination Alliance held a conference to demand an Indigenous government, conceived as a confederacy (Hugu Reference Hugu2020). On several occasions, the Council has sent draft autonomy legislation to the Taiwan government, only to see the bills fail or be ignored (CIP 2022). While autonomy has still not been granted, Taiwan has an especially developed Indigenous movement and vision for autonomy.

The Philippines generally stands out as a bright spot for Indigenous politics and rights in Asia (Eder and McKenna Reference Eder, McKenna and Duncan2004: 56; Inguanzo Reference Inguanzo2014). Indigenous politics are rooted in colonial experiences, with Spanish colonisers failing to control mountain regions. Informed by experiences with American Indians, US colonial officials governed highland communities separately from lowland Catholic Filipinos (Xu Reference Xu2023: 86). Independence intensified assimilation, including state-supported domestic migration to Indigenous regions, pushing many Igorot peoples towards communist insurgents. After democratisation, a new political space led to the IPRA in 1997 and a National Commission on Indigenous Peoples. IPRA involves processes to recognise Indigenous groups and collective lands, with Chapter IV enshrining a “right to self-governance.” The central aspect of Indigenous governance has been Ancestral Domain, with Indigenous peoples struggling to reclaim lands long occupied by Filipino settlers. Activists debate whether to focus on land rights or political autonomy first, addressing courts or presidents (Gaymaytan Reference Gatmaytan2007). While Filipino officials fear that Indigenous recognition will weaken the country, McMurry (Reference McMurry2022) finds that successful land titling increases Indigenous compliance and identification with the Philippine state. Despite progress in terms of Indigenous land rights, self-government remains limited, with inconsistent powers, unclear relations with Philippine authorities, and no ability to amalgamate into larger Indigenous regions. In Luzon, there have been efforts to create large-scale autonomy for Igorot peoples. In 1987, President Aquino established the Cordillera Administrative Region.Footnote ⁶ On two occasions, in 1990 and 1998, the Philippines offered autonomy in a referendum, only for Indigenous groups to reject what many see as weak provisions; for many activists, the region needs “much more radical autonomy and socio-political transformation” (Bertrand Reference Bertrand2021: 198). Another factor was that smaller Indigenous communities feared domination by larger groups that would control the autonomous government. Igorot peoples are diverse, with contrasting views and claims of autonomy. Rather than being compared to Mindanao, the Cordilleran region would benefit from engagements with other Indigenous autonomous regions, with decentralised models and collective land title.