Reconciling Ways of Knowing

In her bestselling book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer describes the reciprocity between humans and nature while also contemplating another potentially beneficial relationship—between Indigenous knowledge and Western science. Not surprisingly, this integration is easier said than done. Recently, for example, the US National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine (NASEM) terminated a $2 million study on how to best combine Indigenous and Western approaches to understanding the natural world. The problem? As Kimmerer herself said on this page, effective collaboration with Indigenous communities requires Western science to respect cultural practices and scientific ideas that diverge from the reductionist approach. Unless the scientific community leans into this discomfort, we will never unlock the possibility that this relationship could help address some of society’s most distressing problems. Last year, the Newcomb Cleveland Prize for the best research paper published in Science acknowledged a study by a coalition of Western, Lakota, and other Indigenous scientists showing that horses were present in the Northern Plains of the United States much earlier than Western science had suggested. This finding was only possible through the interaction of Indigenous and Western scientists, which required meticulous attention to following the norms of both cultures.

For generations, the ni-Vanuatu relied on terrestrial and marine species like flowering plants, bees and turtles as indicators that forecast upcoming extreme weather events. This traditional knowledge helped communities adapt and prepare for floods, droughts and cyclones, like Harold, which scientists predict will be more frequent in this nation of islands. “If the weather appeared fine in the middle of the cyclone, it indicated that winds would return with even more force,” one local told geographers assessing traditional knowledge in the region. To revitalize this knowledge, the VanKIRAP project developed a national indicator booklet documenting an extensive list of traditional meteorological indicators. Led by the Secretariat of the Pacific Regional Environment Programme and Vanuatu Meteorology and Geo-Hazards Department (VMGD), researchers worked with traditional knowledge holders to preserve knowledge that is typically only orally passed down. But in the face of climate change, which has affected weather patterns and species’ behavior, this knowledge is no longer as accurate as it used to, says VanKIRAP project manager Sunny Seuseu. From the team’s consultations with communities, elders report that some traditional indicators they applied in the past no longer work.

When wildfires ravage Kalimantan’s forests and flash floods devastate villages in Sulawesi, we’re starkly reminded of Indonesia’s vulnerability to climate change. While the government scrambles for high-tech solutions, an invaluable resource often remains overlooked: the wisdom of Indigenous peoples. This wisdom has maintained the balance of nature for centuries. Sadly, we too often witness conservation policies that disregard Indigenous rights, even displacing communities from their ancestral lands in the name of economic progress. This isn’t just social injustice; it’s a threat to environmental sustainability. Indigenous knowledge is a powerful tool for building climate resilience and protecting natural infrastructure. By recognizing and valuing the wisdom and practices of Indigenous communities, we can develop more effective and sustainable solutions to the environmental challenges we face. In Indonesia, embracing Indigenous knowledge systems can contribute significantly to conserving the country’s rich biodiversity and ensuring the well-being of both its people and its ecosystems. We stand at a crossroads. We can continue to ignore local wisdom and watch Indonesia’s natural beauty degrade, or we can learn from Indigenous peoples and build a more sustainable future. The choice is ours.

The decision to engage the scientists wasn't an easy one for the Gamay rangers, but Dr Cooley says it was a necessary one. "We've had to be a little bit brave and share some of our knowledge with scientists we trust. Share what knowledge is appropriate, because if we don't, then how do we repair things?" Which is where marine scientist Vanessa Pirotta from Macquarie University comes in. Dr Pirotta is keen to learn as much as she can about the marine mammals in Gamay. All of that can help inform developers when they're considering construction projects, and even the route ships might take through the bay. Dr Pirotta says working with Indigenous knowledge holders is key to the success of those surveys. "You've got knowledge through storytelling that has been passed through to them from generation to generation." But beyond the immediate science goals of the project, Dr Pirotta is trying to build lasting relationships with the La Perouse Aboriginal community and perhaps clear some of the negativity that hangs over interactions between scientists and Indigenous people. "For so many years, we've not ever even thought of the people who were here first — Australia's first scientists," she says. "How ridiculous is that?"

After more than 10,000 years of use, the ancient cultures and indigenous communities who use plant medicines may hold lessons for today's psychedelic Renaissance. In a cave nestled into the rocky vastness of the Andes in south-west Bolivia, amid rubble and llama dung, in 2008 anthropologists discovered a small leather bag which had once belonged to a shaman from the Tiwanaku civilization – a pre-Columbian empire in the Southern Andes – more than 1,000 years ago. Inside, they found a collection of ancient drug paraphernalia. This included a snuffing tube, spatulas to crush the seeds of psychoactive plants and traces of chemicals ranging from cocaine to psilocin, one of the active hallucinogens within magic mushrooms, and the base ingredients of the psychoactive tea ayahuasca. Experts believe that the shaman's bag represents a unique window into the relationship between ancient civilisations and powerful hallucinogenic drugs. The substances found within the bag are also of growing interest to today's medical researchers.

The establishment has for too long diminished #Indigenous #STEM, and by the matter, it has #appropriated and #acculturated #Indigenous #big #data, information, and knowledge continuously. Too often, Indigenous Peoples are folklorized through our Arts, and we have been kept in the box, furthering our separation from our Data. We are our ecosystems, food systems, and social structures, and they are us all, embracing uncertainty, adaptation, and complexity. Brooke Rodriguez, it was great to discuss this issue at the ELSI. I fook forward to embracing our shared future, present, and emerging past in Indigenous Big Data and #Indigenous #data #sovereignty.

Lytton and Reo Rafting are just two examples of how climate change-induced natural disasters are becoming all too frequent for the Lytton First Nation and the other 14 bands that make up the Nlaka’pamux Nation who have called the region home for millennia. But this needn’t be. There are ways to mitigate the impact of some aspects of climate change — particularly the severity of forest fires — which is why I’m spearheading an Indigenous-led initiative to plan and create an Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area that will encompass the Stein-Nahatlatch Valleys and surrounding valleys under the management and protection of First Nations. We would have Indigenous guardians in permanent, full-time career positions — not make-believe jobs that disappear after the fire season — to develop fire management plans and weave together traditional knowledge and Western science. The guardians would thin the land to reduce the fuel load in the forests, conduct cultural burns, respond quickly to fires and develop evacuation and interface fire plans to protect lives and property. I believe conservation based on Indigenous knowledge of land management will help mitigate the impact of climate chaos — particularly wildfires — by drawing on traditional methods that have helped First Nations maintain an ecological balance for millennia. Read more:

As a province-wide heat wave continues and health officials warn about the health effects of dangerously high temperatures, Western University researcher Nicole Redvers draws strength from elders who have taught her about hope for the planet. "We need to recognize that there's a great need for more focus on Indigenous voices within the conversation about planetary health and how we move forward in a good way," Redvers, an associate professor in epidemiology and biostatistics and director of Indigenous Planetary Health at Western University. "There are already many changes and impacts we're seeing and hearing from elders." "It's a delicate balance in the world when you're an Indigenous person schooled within Western ways of knowing and trying to balance that with the Indigenous knowledge and teachings," she said. "We have to acknowledge that there are many different kinds of knowledge bundles or knowledge expertise, and we need to bring in the strengths from both perspectives." https://buff.ly/3XFfspN.

We assume science is objective, uniquely isolated from politics. But as University of Guelph geography professor Dr. Jennifer Silver writes: “Science is not separate from or neutral to power.” The questions researchers can ask, the funding that is granted and the methods that inform these decisions are all shaped by norms and values that often align with socio-economic interests. But values and societies change over time, and the social sciences and humanities have a lot to tell us about the relationships between science and inequity. Examining Pacific herring specifically, the team traced how subsidized industrial fisheries catalyzed the collapse of herring stocks. Indigenous peoples, who had sustainably managed these stocks for generations, were marginalized, their traditional practices outlawed and their knowledge dismissed. Today, this has led to a complex market-based licensing system. As Silver has written in The Conversation Canada, governments on the West Coast grant fish licences and limit the right to harvest in certain places. In practice, licences can accumulate in the hands of wealthy investors and powerful firms, who can in turn sell and lease them to earn revenue and build control. As waters are subject to licensing, they’re also statistically parsed by Western science, and the models treat fish as biomass to be fine-tuned and optimized. Linking this back to the history helps us appreciate the “intertwining” of science, institutions and colonialism that Silver and others emphasize. “A place in the ocean adjacent to someone’s community becomes a single data point, used to make a scaled-up or generalizable conclusion,” Silver says. “I constantly hear that the way decisions are made doesn’t feel like it’s connected to what people experience in their everyday lives.” In other words, the large scale of Western science can, ironically, yield a sense of tunnel vision. “When you’re only making decisions about one type of fish, you miss the broader web of ecological and social connections,” Silver says. “A person living there can see the implications of the smallest changes for the other species around.”

Non-Indigenous scientists increasingly realize that Indigenous data are key to solving today’s environmental challenges. Indigenous Peoples have generated and cared for data for millennia, passing down knowledge through traditions like storytelling, art and language. This knowledge is crucial to Indigenous ways of life, including the sustainable stewardship of ecosystems. With partnerships between non-Indigenous scientists and Indigenous knowledge holders proliferating, incorporating Indigenous data sovereignty (IDS) — the right of Indigenous Peoples to govern the collection, ownership and application of their data — is vital for successful collaborations and conservation. Efforts to protect wild Pacific salmon populations in B.C. demonstrate the importance of IDS for conservation. Pacific salmon are essential for healthy ecosystems and hold deep cultural significance for Indigenous Peoples across Western Canada. Threats to salmon, spanning freshwater and marine habitats, are complex and diverse. For millennia before colonization, many First Nations in B.C. utilized data to manage salmon fisheries sustainably. Today, the reliance on industry data by government regulators like Fisheries and Oceans Canada poses risks to salmon populations and undermines Indigenous stewardship. Read more: