When global media flashes images of burning forests and bulldozed trees, it’s almost always the Amazon in focus. Dubbed the “lungs of the Earth,” the Amazon Rainforest has become a symbol of climate activism and international concern. But this singular ubiquitous narrative — while not wholly inaccurate — has created a dangerous prejudice in our collective environmental awareness. International headlines shout about fires in the Amazon, and documentaries, protests, even curriculum in schools reinforce the idea that saving the planet means saving the Amazon. 

But this obsession has birthed a narrow-minded vision that blinds us to what’s happening just beyond it. Because while the Amazon has gained protection, media attention, and activism on a global scale, the Cerrado, Brazil’s uniquely biodiverse savanna, is quietly being destroyed at faster rates than the Amazon. The myth isn’t that the Amazon matters. In reality, it does matter. But the idea that it is the only, primary environmental front in Brazil is not just misleading. It’s wrong on a large scale. While the Amazon has gained global sympathy, the Cerrado is being flattened with alarming speed.

The Cerrado, often referred to as Brazil’s “forgotten savanna,” is one of the most biodiverse ecosystems in the world. It is the birthplace of several major rivers that flow into the Amazon, Pantanal, and São Francisco basins. And yet, more than half of the Cerrado has already been lost to industrial agriculture, especially soy and beef production, with deforestation rates even surpassing those of the Amazon in recent years. El Cerrado lost 11,000 square kilometers of native vegetation in 2022 alone, nearly double the area deforested in the Amazon that same year (MapBiomas, 2023, https://alerta.mapbiomas.org/). Yet the international narrative continues to revolve around the Amazon, leaving the Cerrado vulnerable, under-regulated, and unprotected.

Because the Cerrado is officially classified as a savanna and not a rainforest, it lacks the same legal and public protections. According to a 2019 study by the Stockholm Environment Institute, 70% of soy-driven deforestation in Brazil occurs in the Cerrado, not the Amazon (SEI, 2019). Additionally, only 7% of companies committed to zero-deforestation pledges for soy have included the Cerrado in their policies (Trase, 2020). The lack of regulation is not an accident — it's the result of strategic misdirection.

El Cerrado stand out to be one of the most biodiverse habitat on Earth, hosting over 12,000 plant species, 4,800 animal species, and 5% of global biodiversity, including countless endemic species (WWF-Brazil, 2021). Climate scientists warn that the Cerrado is nearing an ecological tipping point. Research claims that if current deforestation rates persist, the Cerrado will lose its ability to regenerate and collapse into degraded grassland, permanently altering Brazil’s water cycle and increasing greenhouse gas emissions (Strassburg et al., 2017, Nature Ecology & Evolution).

The first step is acknowledgment: the Cerrado must be recognized as a conservation priority on par with the Amazon. The global community — including consumers, corporations, and policymakers — needs to shift its environmental gaze southward. Legally, Brazil must minimize Cerrado destruction under the guise of “non-rainforest” development. Only 19.8% of the Cerrado is currently protected, compared to 47% of the Amazon (Soares-Filho et al., 2023, Science Advances). That discrepancy must be corrected through expanded protected areas and stronger land-use laws.

Globally, supply chain accountability is essential. Companies sourcing soy, beef, and cotton from Brazil must apply zero-deforestation standards across all ecosystems, not just the Amazon. Consumers should demand labeling transparency and Cerrado-inclusive certification. Initiatives like the Cerrado Manifesto, backed by NGOs and major corporations, are a start — but far from enough without enforcement (WWF & Greenpeace, 2017).

Ultimately, the myth of Amazon exceptionalism is a dangerous one. If we continue to ignore El Cerrado, we’re not just losing another forest — we’re unraveling the entire ecological web of South America.