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A Multi-Perspective Reflection on How Indigenous Knowledge and Related Ideas Can Improve Science Education for Sustainability

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• Published: 09 January 2020
• Volume 29 , pages 145–185, ( 2020 )

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• Robby Zidny   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-4727-3984 1 , 2 ,
• Jesper Sjöström   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-3083-1716 3 &
• Ingo Eilks   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0003-0453-4491 4  

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A Correction to this article was published on 13 March 2021

This article has been updated

Indigenous knowledge provides specific views of the world held by various indigenous peoples. It offers different views on nature and science that generally differ from traditional Western science. Futhermore, it introduces different perspectives on nature and the human in nature. Coming basically from a Western perspective on nature and science, the paper analyzes the literature in science education focusing on research and practices of integrating indigenous knowledge with science education. The paper suggests Didaktik models and frameworks for how to elaborate on and design science education for sustainability that takes indigenous knowledge and related non-Western and alternative Western ideas into consideration. To do so, indigenous knowledge is contextualized with regards to related terms (e.g., ethnoscience), and with Eastern perspectives (e.g., Buddhism), and alternative Western thinking (e.g., post-human Bildung ). This critical review provides justification for a stronger reflection about how to include views, aspects, and practices from indigenous communities into science teaching and learning. It also suggests that indigenous knowledge offers rich and authentic contexts for science learning. At the same time, it provides chances to reflect views on nature and science in contemporary (Western) science education for contributing to the development of more balanced and holistic worldviews, intercultural understanding, and sustainability.

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1 Introduction

One of the main problems in science education—is the perception of students that a lot of their secondary science lessons are neither interesting, engaging, nor relevant (Anderhag et al. 2016 ; Potvin and Hasni 2014 ; Stuckey et al. 2013 ). This is in line with Holbrook ( 2005 ) who discussed that learning of science is perceived not to be relevant in the view of students and thus becomes unpopular to them. A main factor for the missing perception of relevance is suggested in a lack of connections of the teaching of science to the everyday life of students and society (Childs et al. 2015 ; Hofstein et al. 2011 ). To raise the relevance of science education as part of relevant education, science education should accept a more thorough role in preparing students to become critical citizens (e.g., Sjöström and Eilks 2018 ). The role of science education is to prepare students to think responsibly, critically, and creatively in responding to societal issues caused by the impact of science and technology on life and society (e.g., Holbrook and Rannikmäe 2007 ; Hofstein et al. 2011 ; Sjöström 2013 ; Stuckey et al. 2013 ).

To improve the relevance of science education, science teaching requires new ways in the curriculum and pedagogy beyond the mere learning of science theories and facts (Eilks and Hofstein 2015 ). Science learning should be based on everyday life and societal situations that frame conceptual learning to enable students to appreciate the meaningfulness of science (e.g., Greeno 1998 ; Østergaard 2017 ). For acquiring more relevant science teaching and learning—as well as for innovating the curriculum—theory-driven and evidence-based curriculum development for science education and corresponding teacher education are needed (Hugerat et al. 2015 ). Accordingly, it is important to implement new topics and pedagogies in science teaching and to change teacher education programs. One source for such new topics is sustainability thinking and action, and a corresponding related educational paradigm is called Education for Sustainable Development (ESD) (Burmeister et al. 2012 ). ESD in connection with science education has been suggested to have potential to contribute to all three domains of relevant science teaching (personal, societal, and vocational relevance) (Eilks and Hofstein 2014 ). It is relevant for individual action, e.g., in cases involving consumption of resources, participation in societal debates about issues of sustainable development, or careers related to sustainability in science and technology (Sjöström et al. 2015 ).

However, it should be mentioned that the ESD movement has been criticized for a too instrumental view on the relationship between science, technology, and society. The possibilities of environmental technology for solving environmental problems are emphasized, whereas the need for other societal and behavioral changes is not so much mentioned. Such a view is called ecological modernization (e.g., Læssøe 2010 ; Kopnina 2014 ). Education for sustainability (EfS) is a more critical alternative to a narrow-focused ESD (e.g., Simonneaux and Simonneaux 2012 ; Birdsall 2013 ). According to Albe ( 2013 ), it requires the individual to take the political dimension of environmental issues and their intrinsic power relationships into consideration. The aim is to empower the individual for acting responsibly in terms of sustainability, which was also identified by Stuckey et al. ( 2013 ) as an essential justification in their model of relevant science education. Yet another related and critically oriented alternative to mainstream ESD is called ecojustice education (Mueller 2009 ). In this paper, we use the term science education for sustainability describing science education driven by critical and alternative Western views on the transformation to a sustainable world.

According to Savelyeva ( 2017 ), the dominant Western sustainability discourse is based on an anthropocentric conception, where nature needs to be managed within the three pillars of sustainability: ecological, economic, and societal sustainability. Such a view on the human-nature relationship is oriented towards producing a sustainable person. However, as will be explained more in detail below, alternative Western—and less anthropocentric—sustainability discourses have been suggested, such as self-reflective subjectivity (Straume 2015 ), transformative sustainability learning (Barrett et al. 2017 ), a virtue ethics approach (Jordan and Kristjánsson 2017 ), and eco-reflexive Bildung (Sjöström et al. 2016 ; Sjöström 2018 ).

Science is practised based on natural and environmental resources in any given cultural and socio-economic context. However, the picture of science represented in many textbooks all over the world often neglects its cultural component or restricts it to a Western view on the history of science (e.g., Forawi 2015 ; Khaddour et al. 2017 ; Ideland 2018 ). Indigenous views on nature and indigenous knowledge in science at different levels vary among societies and cultures across the globe. The wisdom of indigenous knowledge is often based on sacred respect of nature, due to indigenous peoples’ relationships and responsibilities towards nature (Knudtson and Suzuki 1992 ). Thus, learning about indigenous knowledge may help students recognizing this intimate connection between humans and nature in the foreground of culture from their regional environment or beyond.

Recently, Sjöström ( 2018 ) discussed science education driven by different worldviews. Especially he discussed how science teachers’ identities are related to their worldviews, cultural values, and educational philosophies, and all these are influenced by the individual’s perspectives towards it. Different educational approaches in science education and corresponding eco(logy) views were commented on by Sjöström in relation to the transformation of educational practice. The focus was especially pointed on the similarities between Asian neo-Confucianism and alternative-Western North-European reflexive Bildung (see further below).

Indigenous cultures and the culture of (alternative) Western modern science might complement each other in students’ everyday world experiences. The introduction of indigenous knowledge in the classroom will represent different cultural backgrounds and might help improve the interpretation of this knowledge (Botha 2012 ), so that it makes science more relevant to students in culturally diverse classrooms (de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ). In addition, the incorporation of indigenous knowledge into school curricula might help to enable students to gain positive experiences and develop corresponding attitudes towards science. It might help students to maintain the values of their local cultural wisdom (Kasanda et al. 2005 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ; Ng’asike 2011 ; Perin 2011 ).

Some research used indigenous knowledge to contextualize science curricula by a cultural context (Chandra 2014 ; Hamlin 2013 ; Kimmerer 2012 ; Sumida Huaman 2016 ; van Lopik 2012 ). Indigenous knowledge offers rich contexts which have the potential to contribute understanding the relationship of environmental, sociocultural, and spiritual understandings of life and nature. This approach could be appropriate to accommodate sociocultural demand in science education curricula as well as to raise students’ perception of the relevance of science learning. Aikenhead ( 2001 ) found, however, that possible conflicts may arise when students have the problem of taking information from one knowledge system and placing it into another. There is a number of barriers enabling indigenous knowledge to co-exist in the science curriculum and in the minds of learners and teachers. Barriers are related to limitations of time and corresponding learning materials, prescribed curricula, the selection of appropriate pedagogies, and teachers’ doubts in conveying topics containing spiritual aspects in science (Snively and Williams 2016 ). Teachers have to be aware that it is especially tricky to handle indigenous spiritual views with sufficient care and respect.

Coming from a Western view on nature and science, this analysis attempts to examine the potential role of indigenous knowledge to enhance the relevance of science education with a certain view on education for sustainability. Our view is that the sciences, as well as many other subject areas, have important roles in education for sustainability (Sjöström et al. 2015 ; Sjöström et al. 2016 ). The paper suggests Didaktik models (in the following called “didactic models”) (e.g., Jank and Meyer 1991 ; Blankertz 1975 ; Meyer 2012 ; Arnold 2012 ) and frameworks for how to elaborate on and design EfS that takes indigenous knowledge and related non-Western and alternative Western ideas into consideration. Didaktik can be seen as the professional science for teachers and has a long history in Germany, central Europe, and Scandinavia (e.g., Seel 1999 ; Schneuwly 2011 ; Ingerman and Wickman 2015 ).

A theoretical framework, which contributes multiple reference disciplines of science education (Duit 2007 ), is proposed for adopting indigenous knowledge in science learning. This approach encompasses the interdisciplinary nature of relevant science education to carry out science education research and development. It could provide guidance for research-based curriculum development to construct an indigenous knowledge framework for raising the relevance of science education and students’ perception thereof.

2 Indigenous Knowledge and Related Concepts in the Science Education Literature

The search method in this paper used several scientific literature databases, namely Web of Science, ERIC, Science Direct, and Google Scholar. Several keywords were used to find literature related to the following three main points: (1) a conceptual framework of indigenous knowledge, which includes the definition and concept of indigenous knowledge, the perspective of indigenous knowledge and Western modern science, indigenous knowledge in science education, and the role of indigenous knowledge to promote sustainable development; (2) the relevance of science learning through indigenous knowledge, which encompasses the relevance of science learning in general and indigenous knowledge as a context that supports the relevance of science learning; and (3) research designs and pedagogical approaches to integrate indigenous knowledge in learning and education for sustainability education in science education.

The term indigenous knowledge is broadly defined as the local knowledge held by indigenous peoples or local knowledge unique to a particular culture or society (Warren et al. 1993 ). The search for the term “indigenous knowledge” in the databases located articles pertaining to a number of different terms. Other notions of indigenous knowledge include indigenous science, traditional ecological knowledge, traditional knowledge, ethnoscience, native science, traditional wisdom, Maori science, and Yupiaq science. The search for the term “indigenous knowledge” in the Web of Science produced as much as 8436 hits (retrieved on 2018-01-29), including 577 educational research articles either combined with science education or combined with other related topics (plant sciences, environmental sciences, anthropology, environmental studies, and others). From the 577 educational articles, 446 are peer-reviewed research papers, and only a few articles discuss specific conceptual frameworks of indigenous knowledge. The search in ERIC showed 2404 results for the search term “indigenous knowledge” (retrieved on 2018-01-29). From this database, many review papers and research journal papers were found which are specifically discussing the concept of indigenous knowledge. Some research papers also focus on the relationship between indigenous knowledge and sustainable development. Similar results were also found in Science Direct and Google Scholar that mostly contain empirical and theoretical articles on indigenous knowledge. Of the many terms related to indigenous knowledge, the terminology of indigenous science, ethnoscience, and traditional ecological knowledge were the most frequently used in the literature related to science education, so the search then focused these three terms. Because of the abundance of available articles, potential articles were screened based on the relevant titles. As a result, 22 articles were selected which are directly focusing conceptual frameworks of indigenous knowledge. To complement the perspective with Western modern science and alternative Western thinking, some literature on the philosophy of science education were added by further literature searches.

The literature search for the relevance of science learning was done by using the keyword “relevant science education.” It generated 5363 articles (retrieved on 2018-01-29) in ERIC (consisting of 3178 journal articles, reports articles, book chapter, and others). A more specific search was done combining “relevant science education” with “indigenous knowledge” that brought up articles relating to the sociocultural contexts of science and socio-scientific issues. Further analysis focused on raising the relevance of science learning by indigenous knowledge in terms of promoting environmental protection and sustainable development. Thirty relevant articles were identified including some of the same articles as in the previous literature search.

Further analysis of previously obtained articles was aimed to complement the literature on the topic of research designs and pedagogical approaches to integrate indigenous knowledge in science learning. The search was done with the keyword “pedagogical approach for integrating indigenous knowledge.” This search generated 70 hits in ERIC and 942 results in Science Direct (retrieved on 2018-01-29). A screening for empirical research in anthropological and psychological paradigms, designing instructional approaches to introducing indigenous knowledge into science classrooms and using indigenous science to contextualize science learning by a sociocultural context, identified 14 articles. Further analysis of the articles from this search identified the need for more design research in science education for the integration of indigenous knowledge. One strategy identified in the literature is the Model of Educational Reconstruction (Duit et al. 2005 ). Search results using the keywords “Model of Educational Reconstruction” produced 88,816 hits in ERIC (retrieved on 2018-01-29). Screening related titles with science education identified seven articles. A search on the development of learning designs accommodated to the relevance of science learning for sustainable development, as well as to promote sustainable development, was added. The search for the keyword “ESD in Science Education” generated 148.499 articles on the ERIC database (retrieved on 2018-01-29). Some articles based on topics related to sustainability and referring to context- and/or socio-scientific issue–based science education were identified this way (Table 1 ).

3 Indigenous Knowledge, Western Modern Science, and Alternative Western Thinking

3.1 concepts to characterize indigenous knowledge.

Based on an analysis of terms, there are differences in the use of terms Indigenous (with capital I) and indigenous (with lowercase i). According to Wilson ( 2008 ), Indigenous (with capital I) refers to original inhabitants or first peoples in unique cultures who have experiences of European imperialism and colonialism. Indigenous peoples have a long history of live experience with their land and the legacy from the ancestor, and their future generations (Wilson 2008 ; Kim 2018 ). Meanwhile, the term indigenous (with lowercase i) refers to “things that have developed ‘home-grown’ in specific places” (Wilson 2008 , p. 15). In this paper, it is suggested to follow Kim’s ( 2018 ) point of view to use the term “indigenous” (with lowercase i) to positioning oneself as an indigenous to one’s homeland. The first author is indigenous to Indonesia, which is a country that has many traditional tribes and indigenous societies. These societies affect the culture of people living near indigenous environments but not living indigenous lifestyles. Even though the first author considers himself not to belong to an indigenous community, he spent his childhood in a rural environment, and he felt the experience of indigenous knowledge in his daily life as well as he was influenced by the culture of modern society. The first author is also able to speak an indigenous language (second language) used by one of the Indonesian indigenous peoples (Baduy Tribe) and interacted with them in a study focusing the Baduy’s science-related knowledge (Zidny and Eilks 2018 ). This study is part of a project to educationally reconstruct indigenous knowledge in science education in Indonesia in order to enhance the relevance of science learning as well as to promote education for sustainability. Meanwhile, the other authors are coming from central and northern European backgrounds with experience to Eurocentric cultures. In line with Kim ( 2018 ), all authors position themselves as an “ally” to indigenous people and still maintaining their personal cultural and integrity. In this regard, Kovach ( 2009 ) encouraged non-indigenous knowledge academics to incorporate a decolonizing agenda to support indigenous scholarship. The term “decolonization” is defined as a process to acknowledge the values of indigenous knowledge and wisdom (Afonso 2013 ) and bring together both indigenous and non-indigenous people to learn and respect indigenous knowledge (Kim 2018 ).

In the last few decades, studies on the knowledge of indigenous cultures involved various disciplines both from the natural and from the social sciences. There is no universal definition available about this kind of knowledge and many terms are used to describe what indigenous people know (Berkes 1993 ). Some scholars define indigenous knowledge by several terms and their respective perceptions. Snively and Williams ( 2016 ) argue that this distinction describes a way to distinguish heterogeneous cultural groups’ ways of knowing about nature. Many terms to describe indigenous knowledge have been used in the literature in science education (Table 2 ).

Ogawa ( 1995 ) proposed to understand science education in a “multiscience” perspective in order to foster “multicultural science education” contributing to the field of science education. The idea of a multiscience perspective acknowledges the existence of numerous types of science at play in science classrooms. Ogawa defined science in a multiscience perspective encompassing three categories: personal science (referring to science at the individual level), indigenous science (referring to science at the cultural or society level), and Western modern science (referring to a collective rational perceiving reality shared and authorized by the scientific community). In a more recent publication, Aikenhead and Ogawa ( 2007 ) proposed a new definition about science. They proposed a concept of science which explores three cultural ways of understanding nature. It changes the key terms to become more authentic to better represent each culture’s collective, yet heterogeneous, worldview, meta-physics, epistemology, and values. They also suggested dividing the ways of understanding nature into the following three categories:

An indigenous way (referring to indigenous nations in North America)

Indigenous ways of living in nature are more authentic. This view is used to describe indigenous knowledge, which encompasses indigenous ways of knowing. Ways of living in nature are action-oriented, which must be experienced in the context of living in a particular place in nature, in the pursuit of wisdom, and in the context of multiple relationships. One example of this kind of knowledge is the Yupiaq way of understanding nature, which has the focus of surviving the extreme condition in the tundra (Kawagley et al. 1998 ).

A neo-indigenous way (bringing up distinctive ways of Asian nations of knowing nature)

A neo-indigenous way of knowing is based in far more heterogeneous indigenous cultures, which are influenced by the traditions of Islamic and Japanese cultures. The term “indigenous science” is used by Japanese literature in the context of a multiple-science perspective. Indigenous science is a collective rational perceiving reality experienced by particular culture-dependent societies (Ogawa 1995 ).

Euro-American (Western modern) scientific way

Eurocentric sciences represent a way of knowing about nature and it was modified to fit Eurocentric worldviews, meta-physics, epistemologies, and value systems. This also includes knowledge appropriated over the ages from many other cultures (e.g., Islam, India, and China).

3.2 Defining Indigenous Science and Related Terms

From the same perspective, Snively and Corsiglia ( 2000 ) defined indigenous science as science obtained from the long-resident oral community and the knowledge which has been explored and recorded by biological scientists. They interpreted indigenous science as Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK). The concept of TEK is used by various scientists in the fields of biology, botany, ecology, geology, medicine, climatology, and other fields related to human activity on the environment guided by traditional wisdom (Andrews 1988 ; Berkes 1988 , 1993 ; Berkes and Mackenzie 1978 , Inglis 1993 ; Warren 1997 ; Williams and Baines 1993 ). Even so, Snively and Corsiglia ( 2000 ) stated that the definition of TEK is not accepted universally because of the ambiguity in the meaning of traditional and ecological knowledge . Other scholars prefer the term “indigenous knowledge” to avoid the debate about tradition and give emphasis on indigenous people (Berkes 1993 ). In addition, Snively and Corsiglia ( 2000 ) argued that TEK does not represent the whole of indigenous knowledge because it also contributes to some aspects of Western modern science. Therefore, TEK is the product of both Western modern science and indigenous knowledge (Kim et al. 2017 ).

Snively and Williams ( 2016 ) distinguished the scope of indigenous knowledge, indigenous science, traditional ecological knowledge, and Western science as follows:

Indigenous knowledge ( IK ): The local knowledge held by indigenous peoples or local knowledge unique to a particular culture or society (Warren et al. 1993 ). IK is a broad category that includes indigenous science.

Indigenous science ( IS ): IS is the science-related knowledge of indigenous cultures.

Traditional ecological knowledge ( TEK ): TEK refers to the land-related, place-based knowledge of long-resident, usually oral indigenous peoples, and as noted, consider it a subset of the broader categories of IK and IS. TEK is not about ecological relationships exclusively, but about many fields of science in its general sense including agriculture, astronomy, medicine, geology, architecture, navigation, and so on.

Western science (WS): WS represents Western or Eurocentric science in the means of modern Western science knowledge. Here, Western science knowledge is understood as mainstream Western modern science, i.e., acknowledging that also in modern Western societies’ alternative worldviews and views on science and nature exist (Korver-Glenn et al. 2015 ). Such views are here called “alternative Western thinking.”

To understand the relationship between indigenous knowledge, indigenous science, and TEK, Kim and Dionne ( 2014 ) suggest the “cup of water” analogy (Fig.  1 ). This analogy illustrates science as a cup or container, and knowledge as water that fills the cup. The shape of the water will adjust to the shape of the cup that holds it. Science is described as a collection of knowledge and methods that shape the perception of knowledge (Kim and Dionne 2014 ). Thus, knowledge will be perceived differently according to the form of science that reflects cultural traditions and the perspective of those who adhere to it. Western or European knowledge is shaped by Western modern science (WMS) who adhere to the culture and perspective of Western or European societies (Aikenhead 1996 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ). Indigenous knowledge is formed by indigenous science which adheres to the culture and perspective of indigenous society, while TEK is part of the indigenous knowledge which is guided by indigenous science methods that are in parallel with WMS in terms of presenting solutions to ecological problems. Thus, TEK does not represent the whole indigenous knowledge system and has some similarities and differences with WMS (Kim and Dionne 2014 ).

Relationship between indigenous knowledge (IK), indigenous science (IS), and traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) (adapted from Kim and Dionne 2014 )

The term of IK in science education is also known as “ethnoscience.” Ethnoscience was first introduced by anthropologists in an ethnography approach that refers to a system of knowledge and cognition built to classify and interpret objects, activities, and events in a particular culture (Sturtevant 1964 ; Hardesty 1977 ). According to Snively and Corsiglia ( 2000 ), also IS is sometimes referred to as ethnoscience, which consists of the knowledge of indigenous expansionists (e.g., the Aztec, Mayan, or Mongolian empires) as well as the long-term residents of origin knowledge (i.e., the Inuit, the Aboriginal people of Africa, the Americas, Asia, Australia, Micronesia, and New Zealand). Abonyi ( 1999 ) emphasizes that the indigenous own thinking and relation to life is a fundamental focus of ethnoscience to realize their vision of the world. He also notes that ethnoscience may have potentially the same branches as Western modern science because it is concerned with natural objects and events. Accordingly, the dimensions of ethnoscience would include a number of disciplines, namely ethnochemistry, ethnophysics, ethnobiology, ethnomedicine, and ethnoagriculture (Abonyi et al. 2014 ). Ethnoscience might have the same characteristics as TEK because it has been categorized into various disciplines of WMS-based scientific knowledge. Table 3 summarizes all the terminology, definitions, and acronyms related to indigenous knowledge in this paper.

All in all, this analysis is not intended to make contention about the different definitions of indigenous knowledge. Despite there are some different perspectives of scholars to define knowledge systems, we support the view of Snively and Williams ( 2016 ) that this distinction simply serves as a way to distinguish between highly heterogeneous groups and their ways of knowing nature.

3.3 Perspectives of Indigenous Knowledge

There is some literature in science education which has identified various characteristics and opposing views between Western modern science and indigenous knowledge. Nakashima and Roué ( 2002 ) identified that indigenous knowledge is often spiritual and does not make distinctions between empirical and sacred knowledge in contrast to Western modern science, which is mainly positivist and materialist. They also emphasized that Western modern science generally tries to use controllable experimental environments on their subject of study, while on the contrary indigenous knowledge depends on its context and particular local cultural conditions. In addition, indigenous knowledge adopts a more holistic approach, whereas on the opposite, Western modern science often tries to separate observations into different disciplines (Iaccarino 2003 ).

The perspective of Western contemporary culture and philosophy encourages us an interesting idea about the different forms of knowledge. Feyerabend ( 1987 ) acknowledged that any form of knowledge makes sense only within its own cultural context, and doubted people’s contention that the absolute truth criteria are only being determined by Western modern science. This is in line with Bateson ( 1979 ) who pointed out that the actual representation of knowledge depends on the observer’s view. Therefore, every culture has its way of viewing the world so they may have developed unique strategies for doing science (Murfin 1994 ). The theory of multicultural education in science also proposed the same ideas which recognize science as a cultural enterprise. Aikenhead ( 1996 , p.8) stated that “science itself is a subculture of Western or Euro-American culture, and so Western science can be thought of as ‘subculture science’”. It is based on the worldview presuppositions that nature and the universe are ordered, uniform, and comprehensible. However, Hansson ( 2014 ) has shown that many upper secondary students view scientific laws as only valid locally and that they differentiate between their own views and the views they associate with Western science. This indicates that also many Western people have a “personal science” (Ogawa 1995 ) way of thinking.

At the same time, it is widely known that there is a different perspective between Western modern science and indigenous knowledge in the context of strategies to create and transmit knowledge (Mazzocchi 2006 ). Eijck and Roth ( 2007 ) pointed out that both domains of knowledge are incommensurable and cannot be reduced to each other, because they are based on different processes of knowledge construction. Therefore, it is difficult to analyze one form of knowledge using the criteria of another tradition. Despite there are many distinctions on both sides, Stephens ( 2000 ) discovered the common ground between indigenous knowledge and Western modern science (Table 4 ), even though there are some suggestions to improve the content (e.g., Aikenhead and Ogawa 2007 ). Stephens ( 2000 ) emphasized that correlating one with another would be validated local knowledge as a pathway to science learning, and demonstrated that the exploration of multiple knowledge systems could enrich both perspectives to create thoughtful dialog.

3.4 Indigenous Knowledge and Alternative Western Thinking

Ideologically mainstream Western science can be described with labels such as positivism, objectivism, reductionism, rationalism, and modernism (e.g., Sjöström 2007 ). Many of these characteristics can be explained by the body-mind dualism that has been promulgated in Western civilization all since René Descartes (e.g., Bernstein 1983 ). It is called a Cartesian view and also includes the view that human beings are seen as separate from nature and with rights to exploit the Earth and its resources. In contrast to Western dualisms and modernism, most Eastern philosophies are more holistic and system-oriented (e.g., Hwang 2013 ). For example, Neo-Confucianism has been suggested as an alternative to the dominant Western sustainability discourse (Savelyeva 2017 ). Humans are positioned in harmony with cosmos and such a view can be called cosmoanthropic : “everything in the universe, including humans, shares life and deserves greatest respect […] cosmos is not an object, physical reality, or a mechanical entity; cosmos is a dynamic and ever-changing interpretive reality, which reflects human understanding, sense-making and interpretation of the universe” (Savelyeva 2017 , pp. 511–512).

Another more recent Korean philosophy, highly influenced by Neo-Confucianism, but also based on, e.g., Taoism and Buddhism, is called Donghak (=Eastern learning). Moon ( 2017 ) describes that in Donghak the interconnection and equal relations between God, human, nature, and cosmos go beyond the anthropocentric understanding of any human-nature relations. Similarly, Wang ( 2016 ) has discussed Taoism and Buddhism in relation to the concepts of self-realization and the ecological self-according to ecosophy , the eco-living philosophy developed by the Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess. It is strongly influenced by Buddhist traditions and can be explained as a lifestyle that incorporates ecological harmony and ecological wisdom.

Recently, De Angelis ( 2018 )—in the context of sustainability—compared Buddhist/Eastern spiritual perspectives and indigenous-community learning with alternative Western thinking such as transformative learning theory (Sterling 2011 ) and Dewey’s experience-thinking (see further below). De Angelis ( 2018 ) proposes that they all—to a higher or lower degree—share the notions of inner experience , oneness of reality , and moral sustainable values . Other similarities are awareness of context and a holistic orientation . She writes: “human beings are seen as strictly interconnected and co-existing with nature and their self-development is conceived in harmonious terms with it” (p. 184). Values, feelings, and emotions are seen as significantly contributing to various transformative processes. Furthermore, she emphasizes that her intention is to give “a voice to ‘other’ ways of perceiving the relationship between humans and the environment” (p. 189).

As indicated with the examples above, many of the ideas that are characteristic of Eastern philosophies and indigenous knowledge (according to Table 4 ) can also be found in some alternative Western thinking. Examples include holistic thinking, an integrated worldview, and respect for all living things. Below, we more in detail describe the following three interrelated philosophical directions of alternative Western thinking: (a) a post-human version of the European notion of Bildung , (b) phenomenology and embodied knowledge, and (c) network-thinking, respectively:

Post-human Bildung : In Central and Northern Europe, there is a philosophical and educational tradition called Bildung (Sjöström et al. 2017 ). It was in its modern educational meaning coined in Germany in the late eighteenth century and then spread to Scandinavia. However, the real origins of the concept can be traced back to the Middle Age, when it had theological and spiritual connotations (Horlacher 2016 ; Reichenbach 2016 ). Meister Eckhart (1260–1328) introduced the term as early as in the late thirteenth century when he translated the Bible from Latin into German. He used it as a term for transcending “natural existence and reach real humanity” (Horlacher 2016 , p. 8). Then it took roughly five hundred years until the term started to be used in educational contexts, meaning self-formation. The rooting of Bildung in Romanticism was later intertwined with contemporary ideas of Enlightenment (Reichenbach 2014 ). It became also connected to morality and virtue, or in one word to humanity (Reichenbach 2016 ).

Generally, the following five historical elements of Bildung can be identified:

Biological-organic growth process (self-knowledge is a prerequisite for humanism)

Religious elements (transparency for a spiritual world in contrast to only materialism)

Connection to ancient cultures

Enlightenment thoughts (forming informed and useful democratic citizens)

Socio-political dimension (emancipation)

The two main elements of Bildung are autonomous self-formation and reflective and responsible societal (inter)actions. Most versions of Bildung are highly influenced by Western modernism (Sjöström 2018 ), although alternatives, which in a way connect to the roots of the concept, have developed during the last two decades. Rucker and Gerónimo ( 2017 ) have theoretically connected the concept to the complexity and some scholars have started to discuss it from postmodern, post-human, and sustainability perspectives, where both relations and responsibility are emphasized (e.g., Taylor 2017 ; Sjöström 2018 ; Rowson 2019 ). Taylor ( 2017 ) asked if a post-humanist Bildung is possible and she seems to think so:

A posthuman Bildung is a lifelong task of realizing one’s responsibility within an ecology of world relations, it occurs outside as well as inside formal education, in virtual as well as’real’ places. [… It] is a matter of spirituality and materiality which means that it is not an ‘inner process’ but an educative practice oriented to making a material difference in the world. [… It is] education as an ethico-onto-epistemological quest for (better ways of) knowing-in-becoming. (pp. 432–433)

With many similarities to the Eastern thoughts of co-living, and just like “ecosophy” in a Western context, two of us have discussed what we call eco-reflexive Bildung (Sjöström et al. 2016 ). It adds an eco-dimension to critical-reflexive Bildung and has similarities to the cosmoanthropic view described above as well as to Donghak . These ideas have in common the view of life and society as interdependent and an inseparable whole.

Phenomenology and embodied knowledge: The discussion about Bildung connects to the second alternative Western idea, which is life-world phenomenology and connected embodied experiences (Bengtsson 2013 ). These ideas are based on philosophical thinking originating from the philosophers Merleau-Ponty, Heidegger, and Husserl. Bengtsson ( 2013 ) describes this understanding by the view that the life of the individual and the world is interdependent and that the lived body is a subject of experiencing, acting, understanding, and being in the world. John Dewey had similar thoughts about the experience (Retter 2012 ) and Brickhouse ( 2001 ) has emphasized the importance of an embodied science education, which overcomes the body-mind dualism.

Related to this, some science education scholars have emphasized the role of wonder, esthetic experience, romantic understanding, and environmental awareness in science education (e.g., Dahlin et al. 2009 ; Hadzigeorgiou and Schulz 2014 ; Østergaard 2017 ). Hadzigeorgiou and Schulz ( 2014 ) focused on the following six ideas: (1) the emotional sensitivity towards nature, (2) the centrality of sense experience, (3) the importance of holistic experiences, (4) the importance of the notions of mystery and wonder, (5) the power of science to transform people’s outlook on the natural world, and (6) the importance of the relationship between science and philosophy. These six ideas are related to “relations between self, others and nature” and to Dewey’s esthetic (phenomenological existence) and reflective (pragmatic existence) experience (Quay 2013 ). It can also be described by “being-in-the-world” and “a total, relational whole” (p. 148).

Dahlin et al. ( 2009 ) have argued for a phenomenological perspective on science and science education and they discussed how it can foster students’ rooting (see also Østergaard et al. 2008 ). By phenomenology, they emphasized that all human experiences are important and that “subject and object must be seen as belonging together, as two aspects of one (non-dualistic) whole” (Dahlin et al. 2009 , p. 186). Furthermore, they are critical to cognitionism and technisation and instead emphasize the rich complexity of nature and lived experience. In contrast to both constructivism and sociocultural learning, they describe phenomenology to be more open to esthetic, ethical, and moral dimensions of science. These views have similarities to Eastern philosophies and indigenous knowledge.

Network-thinking: The third alternative and related Western idea is network-thinking by, e.g., the French sociologist Michael Callon (born 1945) and the French philosopher Bruno Latour (born 1947). A conflict between modernism and postmodernism in science education has been identified by Blades ( 2008 ). This tension is related to the tension between views in traditional science education versus more progressive views in the area of environmental education (Dillon 2014 ). In an article about emancipation in science education, Zembylas ( 2006 ) discussed the philosophy of meta-reality by Roy Bhaskar. He claimed that Bhaskar’s ideas offer an interesting alternative to modernist and postmodernist accounts. Bhaskar viewed everything as connected—humans, nonhumans, and “things.” These thoughts are similar to some thinking of actor-network theory developed by, e.g., Callon and Latour. In Latour’s networks, knowledge and power are not separable and he claims that it is not possible to stay outside a field of competing networks for giving an objective description of the state of affairs. Latour ( 2004 ) introduced the concept matters of concern to refer to the highly complex, uncertain, and risky state of affairs in which human and non-human entities are intimately entangled.

Network-oriented science education focuses on interactive relational production of knowledge. Colucci-Gray and Camino ( 2014 ) write about “science of relationships” and “epistemic and reflexive knowledge” (see also Colucci-Gray et al. 2013 ). More recently, the same authors suggested activities that aim at developing reflexivity about the individual’s position in the global, ecological web. They related it to the thinking of Gandhi and emphasized ideas such as non-duality and interdependency, and relational ways of knowing (Colucci-Gray and Camino 2016 ). Except for cognitive and social development, they also emphasized emotional and spiritual development. On the question what should be the narratives of science education, they answered non-human relationships, interactions between science, values and learning, embodied experiences, and interdisciplinarity. In addition to Gandhi’s philosophy they also refer to ecosophy and different Eastern traditions.

Brayboy and Maughan ( 2009 ) have pointed out that the objective for most culturally relevant science learning is not to put indigenous knowledge and Western modern science in opposition to one another, but instead to extend knowledge systems and find value and new perspectives for teaching and learning from both. This is aligned with the perspective of two-eyed seeing as a means to build bridges and “to help these cultures find ways to live in mutual respect of each other’s strengths and ways” (Hatcher et al. 2009 , p. 146): “Through two-eyed seeing students may learn to see from one eye with the strengths of indigenous ways of knowing and from the other eye with the strengths of Western ways of knowing.” McKeon ( 2012 ) used the perspective of “two-eyed seeing” for weaving the knowledge from the views of non-indigenous environmental educators to enrich environmental education by indigenous understandings. The indigenous understandings are communicated through oral tradition to teach about the interconnectedness of nature and the concepts of transformation, holism, caring, and responsibility. The core ideas in environmental education (systems theory, ecological literacy, bio-philia, and place-based education) can obtain advantage from and connect to foundational values of indigenous education (Mckeon 2012 ).

4 Indigenous Knowledge in Science Education

4.1 conceptual frameworks of indigenous knowledge in science education.

Studies in constructivism opened up the science educators to understand science not only as a body of knowledge but also as a way of thinking. Indigenous science is the knowledge which reflects the indigenous way of thinking about the physical world (Abonyi et al. 2014 ). Thus, constructivism provides the opportunity for indigenous science to adjoin with Western modern scientific views. The perspective of constructivism suggests that knowledge is not a kind of thinking that can be copied between individuals, but rather has to be reconstructed by each learner (Taber 2014 ). According to Taber ( 2013 ), human learning is interpretive (a sense-making process to produce a perception of the world), incremental (integrating the existing knowledge and understanding which enable learners to make sense), and iterative (reinforces the existing interpretation). Accordingly, once learners have developed a particular understanding, then they will interpret new information according to this way of thinking and tend to learn it in a way that reinforces the existing interpretation. The indigenous ways of thinking can provide corresponding learners with a broader (more holistic) view of the world to understand science and nature beyond a non-Western perspective (Kim and Dionne 2014 ). The integration of indigenous knowledge in science education provides a holistic learning framework of the study, which make learners with an indigenous background able to understand the role of their societal and cultural context in the production of scientific knowledge (Aikenhead and Michell 2011 ). It has potential to facilitate learners to make own sense of their world and reinforces their existing interpretation of natural phenomena.

Cobern ( 1996 ) suggested that learning is the active process of constructing a conceptual framework based on the interpretation of learners’ prior knowledge, rather than the process of transmission which only make learners memorize knowledge. The interpretation is affected by the personal and culturally embedded background of knowledge of the learners that make learning processes meaningful. This view suggests building a conceptualization of scientific knowledge in which it is reasonable to expect culture-specific understandings of science (Cobern 1996 ). Accordingly, in the perspective of any learners, indigenous science can serve as a base for the construction of reality by linking culture to advance scientific knowledge (Abonyi et al. 2014 ). Moreover, incorporating indigenous knowledge in science education for all may help to reflect the different intellectual traditions of various cultures adjoined with scientific knowledge to solve relevant problems in the context of its ecological, societal, and economic ramifications.

McKinley and Stewart ( 2012 ) point out four major themes of research and development associated with integrating indigenous knowledge into science education. These are (a) equity of learning outcomes for students from non-Western backgrounds, (b) contributions of indigenous knowledge to the knowledge base of Western modern science, (c) environmental concerns over sustainability, and (d) inclusion of the nature, philosophy, and limits of science. For instance, Lowan-Trudeau ( 2012 ) developed a model based on métissage (the metis methodologies) to incorporate Western and indigenous knowledge and philosophy into ecological identities and pedagogical praxis. Métissage offers the diversity of views and experiences about nature which is required for the development of environmental education research for future generations. Environmental education researchers from all cultural backgrounds are encouraged to acknowledge and engage with indigenous knowledge, philosophies, and methodologies (Lowan-Trudeau 2012 ) .

The integration of indigenous knowledge in education should recognize indigenous frameworks and methodologies to give more attention to their history, politics, cultural beliefs, and philosophical views as well as to balance the Western perspective (Smith 1999 , 2002 ). For instance, some Maori scholars have used their frameworks and methodologies to incorporate indigenous knowledge in education. Smith ( 1999 ) suggested Kaupapa Maori as a research approach to reconstruct and recognize indigenous knowledge of Maori people rather than using mainstream research that is too Western paradigm-oriented. The term of Kaupapa Maori describes the Maori worldview that incorporates their thinking and understanding about practice and philosophy living (Smith 1997 ; Pihama and Cram 2002 ). Based on the framework and key principles of Kaupapa Maori , Maori’s scholars developed oral traditions and narrative inquiry approaches to express their experiences. Ware, Breheny, and Forster ( 2018 ) developed a Māori approach called Kaupapa Kōrero to collect, introduce, and understand Māori experiences and also interrelatedness and influence of their societal expectations, indigeneity, and culture. In school education, Lee ( 2002 ) suggested the akonga Maori framework to view Maori secondary teachers’ experiences in relation to teacher education in ways that are culturally responsive and culturally relevant to Maori students. This framework offers education providers to be more involved with Maori students in preparing them for their work in secondary schools.

In the literature, the integration of indigenous knowledge with science education has been widely distilled and packaged based on the different genres and cultures of Western modern science disciplines in the form of TEK (Afonso Nhalevilo 2013 ; Bermudez et al. 2017 ; Chandra 2014 ; Chinn 2009 ; Funk et al. 2015 ; Hamlin 2013 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ; Kimmerer 2012 ; Sumida Huaman 2016 ; van Lopik 2012 ; Nadasdy 1999 ; Simpson 1999 ). Based on the suggested polygon framework of TEK (Houde 2007 ; Kim et al. 2017 ), it is suggested that TEK pedagogy should respect five dimensions as in the didactic model in Fig.  2 .

TEK Polygon Framework (Kim et al. 2017 )

Using the polygon framework of TEK, Kim et al. ( 2017 ) explored current pedagogical conceptualizations of knowledge systems in science education and criticized the implication of TEK (Table 5 ).

Reflecting on the conceptualization of the TEK polygon in science education, it is suggested that TEK should be interpreted as the product of both Western modern science and indigenous knowledge because it has distilled indigenous knowledge into Western modern science framework. The two knowledge systems should complement each other, should work together, and should be acknowledged in their respective entities. It is also suggested to take certain aspects into account when incorporating indigenous knowledge in science education:

An educational approach to indigenous knowledge should give more attention to socioculture, history, and current politics of a place in addition to ecological and environmental aspects (Smith 2002 ; Ruitenberg 2005 ; Kim et al. 2017 ). This approach gives the student opportunities to learn science more authentically beyond their physical environments. From local environments, learners have a wealth of information regarding the diverse rural sociocultural and ecological connections. Avery and Hains ( 2017 ) suggest that the diverse knowledge of rural children, which is inherited by elders’ wisdom, must be respected in order to solve the complex problems in the new age of the Anthropocene. The knowledge should be cultivated to enrich science education pedagogies and practices which can be learned from individual and unique rural contexts. Moreover, supporting and valuing students’ knowledge in urban science education is also a necessity. Science education should recognize urban students’ ways of communicating and participating in order to support the effective teaching of science to students with different cultural backgrounds in urban science classrooms (Edmin Emdin 2011 ).

The pedagogy of multiculturalism of indigenous knowledge in science education must attempt to acknowledge the multiple perspective ways of knowing the differences and similarities of as well as relations of different types of knowledge systems (Ogawa 1995 ; Aikenhead 1996 ; Mueller and Tippins 2010 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ). Kapyrka and Dockstator ( 2012 ) suggest an educational approach to encourage teachers and students to promote respective cultural understandings and collaborative solutions between indigenous and Western worldviews.

Indigenous cosmological grounding must be involved to help revitalize cultural identities for indigenous students (McGregor 2004 ; Kimmerer 2012 ). For instance, Sutherland and Swayze ( 2012 ) used the indigenous framework of Ininiwikisk n tamowin (the knowledge of the people in how we understand the Earth) as a model for science and math programs in indigenous settings. This framework was applied to a culturally relevant environmental education program, as a process of lifelong learning, and to give a broad understanding of interconnected relationships with nature, living and non-living entities in the environment and beyond (Sutherland and Swayze 2012 ).

Science education should recognize the significant wisdom values of indigenous knowledge that encompass spirituals, philosophical, worldviews, and stories of indigenous communities (Kawagley et al. 1998 ; Kawagley and Barnhardt 1998 ; McGregor 2004 ). All these aspects are necessary as a reflection on multiple perspective ways of knowing (Snively 1995 ) and as appreciation on the interconnected relationships of human and nature as well as to maintain the values of local cultural wisdom (Kasanda et al. 2005 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ; Ng’asike 2011 ; Perin 2011 ).

Collaborative work with indigenous experts is needed to understand nature from an indigenous perspective (Garroutte 1999 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ). The knowledge holders and communities must be involved to avoid diminishing or misrepresenting knowledge (Kim et al. 2017 ).

4.2 The Potential Role of Indigenous Knowledge for Transformative Education

According to the goal of twenty-first century education, Bell ( 2016 ) suggested that conventional teaching models must shift to a transformative style of education in order for humankind to learn how to live more sustainably. This implication could accommodate student transformative experiences in which they use ideas from the science classroom to see and experience the world differently in their everyday lives (Pugh et al. 2017 ). The involvement of transformative education with sustainable science has the potential to play an integral role in this paradigmatic shift, which requires the wider legitimation of our ecology as a highly interconnected system of life (Williams 2013 ). The students can use their ideas and beliefs in another way of knowing nature, which contributes to a better understanding of social, cultural, economic, political, and natural aspects of local environments. Indigenous science could provide a potential topic in pedagogical approaches for transformative education towards a sustainable future.

There exists a general agreement on the need to reform scientific expertise by developing new ways of understanding knowledge to cope with challenging sustainability issues (Sjöström et al. 2016 ). Transdisciplinary aspects of sustainability became acknowledged as a transformational stream of sustainability science (Tejedor et al. 2018 ). Indigenous science can provide one of these transdisciplinary aspects of sustainability, which proposes a different way of knowing. It has potential to provide learners with a different view of the world to understand scientific knowledge and more holistic learning, which learners make able to understand the role of the social and cultural context in the production of scientific knowledge (Aikenhead and Michell 2011 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ).

By integrating multiple ways of knowing into science classrooms, students can learn the value of traditional ways of knowing. They can learn to utilize a conceptual eco-reflexive perspective and to acknowledge that learning and understanding are part of a complex system that includes experience, culture, and context, as well as mainstream science that is taught in class (Mack et al. 2012 ). This process can facilitate transformative experiences which encompass three characteristics: (1) motivated use (application of learning in “free-choice” contexts), (2) expansion of perception (seeing objects, events, or issues through the lens of the content), and (3) experiential value (valuing content for how it enriches everyday experience) (Pugh et al. 2017 ). The transformation of science education for learners is not merely a set of strategies related to changing learners’ behavior, changing the curriculum or pedagogy, changing definitions of science, or changing governance. Transformation of (science) education will also need to occur in the wider context to respect both indigenous and non-indigenous knowledge (Snively and Williams 2016 ).

4.3 The Role of Indigenous Knowledge in Science Education for Sustainability

Despite indigenous knowledge has been passed down from generation to generation over the centuries, its existence has been neglected and tended to be largely omitted from science curricula (Kibirige and van Rooyen 2006 ), as many other aspects of society and culture are (Hofstein et al. 2011 ). With the growing consideration of several problems facing the world, such as hunger, poverty, diseases, and environmental degradation, issues due to the weakness of Western modern science to overcome it has opened the insight and interest of the global community to take into account more thoroughly indigenous knowledge as a solution (Senanayake 2006 ; Odora Hoppers 2004 ). For instance, scientists have identified indigenous peoples’ practices to survive their life in nature: indigenous soil taxonomies; soil fertility; agronomic practices (terracing), such as contour banding, fallowing, organic fertilizer application, crop-rotation, and multi-cropping; conservation of soil and water; and anti-desertification practices (Atteh 1989 ; Lalonde 1993 ). Practices of indigenous pest control systems gained new interest for wide use in tropical countries. An ancient known mention of a poisonous plant having bio-pesticide activities is Azadirachta indica . This plant contains compounds which have been established as a pivotal insecticidal ingredient (Chaudhary et al. 2017 ).

The acknowledgement of the knowledge and practices of indigenous people to promote sustainable development has increased around the globe. For instance, UNESCO created the Local and Indigenous Knowledge System (LINKS) (UNESCO 2002 ). This program has a goal to explore the ways that indigenous and local knowledge systems contribute to understanding, mitigating and adapting to climate change, environmental degradation, and biodiversity loss. In addition, as part of its education for a sustainable future project, UNESCO launched the Teaching and Learning for Sustainable Future: A Multimedia Teacher Education Program (UNESCO 2002 ). It provides professional development for student teachers, teachers, curriculum developers, education policymakers, and authors of educational materials. This program also encourages teachers and students to gain enhanced respect for local cultures, their wisdom and ethics, and suggests ways of teaching and learning locally relevant knowledge and skills.

The integration of an indigenous perspective in science education has been widely applied by scholars in some regions, including Africa, Australia, Asia, and America. Ogunniyi and Hewson ( 2008 ) analyzed a teacher training course in South Africa to improve the ability of teachers to integrate indigenous knowledge into their science classrooms. Ogunniyi and Ogawa ( 2008 ) addressed the challenges in the development and implementation of indigenous science curricula in Africa and Japan. In Canada, Bridging the Gap (BTG) program provides inner-city students from Winnipeg in Manitoba with culturally relevant, science-based environmental education. This program content brings together environmental education and local indigenous knowledge and pedagogies (Sutherland and Swayze 2012 ). Reintegration of indigenous knowledge into education has also been carried out for a long time in Alaska. This process was initiated by the AKRSI (Alaska Rural Systemic Initiative) program that reconstructs indigenous knowledge of Alaska people and develops pedagogical practices by incorporating indigenous ways of knowing into formal education (Barnhardt et al. 2000 ). This process aims to connect learning processes inside classroom and experience outside school so that it can broaden and deepen the students understanding as well as encouraging them to learn about traditional culture and values (Barnhardt 2007 ). Moreover, in Indonesia, there is a bold attempt to reconstruct ethnoscience to promote the values of nature conservation and develop critical self-reflection on own cultural backgrounds (Parmin et al. 2017 ; Rahmawati et al. 2017 ; Widiyatmoko et al. 2015 ). In higher education, Australian undergraduate programs implemented indigenous studies in their curricula. The results suggest that the program can promote the greater capacity for students’ skills in critical reflections (Bullen & Roberts 2019 ).

Furthermore, the integration of indigenous knowledge is also involved in science teacher’s professional development programs. Sylva et al. ( 2010 ) conducted a study to transform science teacher professional development to facilitate teachers to make the content related to the environment and agriculture science fields more relevant to Hawaiian students’ lives and backgrounds. Chinn ( 2014 ) suggested that scientific inquiry learning associated with indigenous knowledge and sustainability practices supports the development of ecological attention of teachers. In addition, long-term professional development providing situated learning through cross-cultural immersion and interdisciplinary instruction also supports teachers to develop cross-cultural knowledge and literacy (Chinn 2006 ).

The application of indigenous knowledge to promote education for sustainability in various parts of the world is recognized. Teachers and students participating in sustainability and environmental education programs, as well as science education programs, should be considered potential beneficiaries of published research on indigenous science.

5 Raising the Relevance of Science Learning Through Indigenous Knowledge

5.1 the relevance of science learning.

The term relevance in science learning has many different meanings that can be viewed from different perspectives. Relevance can be defined as students’ interest in learning (Ramsden 1998 ; Childs 2006 ; Holbrook 2005 ), usefulness or student’s needs (Keller 1983 ; Simon and Amos 2011 ), or aspects of the application of science and technology to raise welfare and sustainability in social, economic, environmental, and political issues (De Haan 2006 ; Hofstein and Kesner 2006 ; Knamiller 1984 ). Stuckey et al. ( 2013 ) attempted to formulate a comprehensive understanding of relevance in science education and suggested a model of relevance by linking different dimensions of the relevance of science education. The model encompasses three main dimensions:

Individual relevance, with an emphasis on students’ interests and the development of individual intellectual skills

Societal relevance, by facilitating the student’s competence to engage responsibly in the present and future society

Vocational relevance, by providing vocational orientation and preparation for career development

Stuckey et al. ( 2013 ) suggested curriculum development to move dynamically to accommodate the relevance of science learning in its different dimensions and aspects (Eilks and Hofstein 2015 ). Current curricula in many countries are suggested to overcome a preference for learning based on scientific principles and facts that have been done in the “Golden Age” of the science curriculum in the 1950s and 1960s (Bybee 1997 ). At that time, the curriculum was designed using a discipline-based structured approach to provide effective learning about the concepts, theories, and facts of science (Eilks et al. 2013 ). The curriculum of science at that time is today considered irrelevant for most learners as it only accommodates the emphasis in the selection and preparation of a minority of students to become scientists and engineers (De Boer 2000 ; Stuckey et al. 2013 ).

Over time, science curriculum development has undergone significant changes (Eilks et al. 2013 ). The curriculum development in late 1990 to early 2000 was done by suggesting context-based science education and creating meaningful learning for students in many countries (e.g., King and Ritchie 2012 ). The contexts used were considered relevant from the perspective of Western modern science. However, in the viewpoint of global science, relevance must be concerned with the natural and environmental phenomena described by science in various contexts and cultural forms. Different views on science should be accepted by students with respect to different environments based on cultural identity, time, and society. One of the problems experienced by students in science education in developing countries is the feeling that learning science is like recognizing foreign cultures (Maddock 1981 ) and this is also experienced by students in industrialized countries (Aikenhead 1996 ; Costa 1995 ). The phenomenon occurs due to the fundamental differences between Western modern science and the knowledge systems of many non-Western cultures (Aikenhead 1997 ; Jegede 1995 ). The same issue is also expressed by Kibirige and van Rooyen ( 2006 ) suggesting that students with indigenous backgrounds may experience a conflict between Western modern science, that they learn in school, with their indigenous knowledge. As already described above, a similar conflict can also be expected for many students with a Western background, when their “personal science view” differ from the views of mainstream Western science (Ogawa 1995 ; Hansson 2014 ). Surely this is a challenge for researchers and educators who want to reach the goal of relevant science education for all students by bridging the difference between student’s experiences in their cultural context and the world of Western science.

5.2 Indigenous Knowledge as a Socio-scientific and Cultural Context to Accommodate Relevance in Science Education

In order to realize relevant science education in a contemporary view, it is necessary to consider socio-scientific and cultural contexts in science education (Stuckey et al. 2013 ; Sjöström et al. 2017 ; Sjöström 2018 ). As Ogawa ( 1995 ) emphasizes, every culture has its own science called “indigenous science.” Thus, every student must become aware of his individual, personal “indigenous” knowledge to constructs his knowledge of Western science. The focus of learning cannot be restricted to provide the student scientifically acceptable information, but should be to help students understand the concepts and explore the differences and similarities between their ideas, beliefs, values, and experiences with modern science concepts (Snively and Corsiglia 2000 ). The same view is also affirmed by Abonyi ( 1999 ) who stated that current instructional approaches in science education, which often do not take into consideration prior cultural beliefs, will lack in a contribution to students’ interest in science. In consequence, it might negatively influence students’ understanding and attitudes towards science learning (Alshammari et al. 2015 ).

The introduction of indigenous knowledge in the classroom can represent different cultural backgrounds of the learners and might improve their interpretation of knowledge (Botha 2012 ). It might have the potential to make science learning more relevant to students in culturally diverse classrooms (de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ). Related to this, Hayes et al. ( 2015 ) stated that societal culture has a major impact on the functioning of schools and the complexity of factors which affects the way schools teach science. The incorporation of indigenous knowledge into school curricula has the potential to enable students to gain further experiences and develop corresponding attitudes towards science. In the same time, it might help indigenous students to maintain the values of their local cultural wisdom (Kasanda et al. 2005 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ; Ng’asike 2011 ; Perin 2011 ). Another goal of integrating indigenous knowledge in classroom learning is to reduce the notion that learning science is “strange” from the students’ own point of views by providing insights that views on science and nature can be different from culture to culture (Mashoko 2014 ). Knowledge can be seen as a dynamic process within the context of sociocultural and ecological relations. Accordingly, knowledge is not sourced only from the teachers but can be found in the experience of the students living, which is a prominent feature of the rural experiential environment (Avery and Hains 2017 ). Kawagley et al. ( 1998 ) contended that although indigenous ways of knowing are different from the Western way of thinking, their knowledge is scientific and relevant to the current situation because it is obtained from the results of long-term environmental observations combined with experiments in a natural setting. Indigenous science for science learning is relevant for students because they can learn traditional knowledge and skills that are still relevant to today’s life, as well as to find values and apply new insights to their practice which is essential for their survival (Kawagley et al. 1998 ; Barnhardt and Kawagley 2008 ).

Students bring ideas and beliefs based on their previous experiences in the classroom. The differences in cultural backgrounds cause them interpret the concept of science differently from a common scientific view. Accordingly, the exploration of multicultural science learning is required that brings students’ prior knowledge into the classroom. In many cases, the cultural aspect of the multicultural science context is important because it plays a role in providing valuable scientific knowledge and is also a pedagogical bridge linked mainly to multicultural students of science (Atwater and Riley 1993 ; Hodson 1993 ; Stanley and Brickhouse 1994 ). The relevant approach to this goal is by developing culturally sensitive curricula and teaching methods that integrate indigenous knowledge—and the variety of different cultural views—into the science curriculum (Aikenhead and Jegede 1999 ).

Zimmerman and Weible ( 2017 ) developed science learning curricula based on the sociocultural conceptualization of learning with specific consideration of place to understand how students’ rural experiences intersect with school-based learning. They suggested that education which focuses only on scientific concepts is not enough to support young people to become representative of their community. The learners need support in methods of presenting evidence and arguments, which can be facilitated in science classroom to convince key stakeholders in their rural community. This is important to make science learning meaningful and can lead to the development of various kinds of environmental meanings as learning outcomes.

Snively and Williams ( 2016 ) suggest that science educators must strive to design new curricula that represent a balanced perspective. Furthermore, they should expose students to multiple ways of understanding science. Indigenous perspectives have the potential to give insight and guidance to the kind of environmental ethics and deep understanding that we must gain as we attempt to solve the increasingly complex problems of the twenty-first century. For instance, the empirical study of the integration of indigenous perspective in science education has become a model of science education in Canada, with sustainability at its core (Fig.  3 ) (Murray 2015 ). Sustainability sciences should provide a balanced approach to how society alters the physical environment and how the state of the environment shapes society (Snively and Williams 2016 ).

Three dimensions of science education with the sustainability sciences as the foundation, as described in this didactic model by (Murray 2015 )

Murray ( 2015 ) emphasized in a magazine article that the focus of sustainability sciences is not merely on environmental science. It should also recognize science outside of environmental, citizenship, and cultural contexts. Therefore, it is important to make strong connections among the pure sciences, sustainability issues, socio-scientific issues, and the relevance of the curriculum (Murray 2015 ; Stuckey et al. 2013 ). According to Fig. 3 , sustainability sciences can integrate multiple perspectives on science worldviews and accommodate the three dimensions of the relevance of science education (individual, societal, and vocational relevance). In this case, indigenous science can be a source for socio-scientific and cultural issues which promote the relevance of science education. Accordingly, new pedagogical approaches should address indigenous science in order to enhance the relevance of science learning as well as to promote sustainable development.

As can be seen in Fig. 3 , Murray ( 2015 ) uses the term Vision III for multiple perspectives on scientific worldviews and indigenous systems of knowing, complementing Western traditions. This is included in our previous use of the term, although our Vision III of scientific literacy and science education is even broader in scope (Sjöström and Eilks 2018 ). Our view is inspired by an eco-reflexive understanding of Bildung . It describes a socio-political-philosophical vision of science education aiming at dialogical emancipation, critical global citizenship, and socio-ecojustice. This has consequences for the science curriculum that needs to incorporate more thoroughly societal perspectives—under inclusion of indigenous perspectives—and needs to incorporate stronger socio-scientific issue–based science education of a “hot” type (Simonneaux 2014 ). Controversial, relevant, and authentic socio-scientific issues, e.g., from the sustainability debate, shall become the drivers for the curriculum (Simonneaux and Simonneaux 2012 ). Corresponding research, curriculum development, and teacher continuous professional development need to be intensified. Recently, Sjöström ( 2018 ) discussed eco-reflexive Bildung - and a Vision III–driven science education as an alternative to science education based on Western modernism. It integrates cognitive and affective domains and includes complex socio-scientific and environmental issues, but also philosophical-moral-political-existential and indigenous perspectives more in general.

Recent pedagogical approaches involving socio-scientific issues to teach science imply the role of science and technology for society, both present and future (Marks and Eilks 2009 ; Sadler 2011 ). Students are suggested to develop general skills facilitated by science education to achieve the goals of Education for Sustainable Development (ESD) (Eilks et al. 2013 ). In ESD-type curricula, learning encompasses the reflection and interaction of the application of science in its societal, economic, and ecological contexts (Burmeister et al. 2012 ; De Haan 2006 ; Wheeler 2000 ). ESD in connection with science education is suggested to have the potential to contribute to personal, societal, and vocational science teaching (Stuckey et al. 2013 ). It is relevant for individual action, e.g., in cases involving consumption of resources, participation in societal debates about issues of sustainable development, or careers related to sustainable chemistry and technology (Eilks and Hofstein 2014 ; Sjöström et al. 2015 ). Reflections on indigenous knowledge and its relatedness to Western modern science can form another focus in this selection of cases, especially if it becomes locally and regionally relevant.

Khaddoor et al. (2017) emphasized that the picture of science represented in many textbooks all over the world often neglects its societal and cultural components, and restricts it to a Western view on the history of science. Addressing indigenous knowledge in the framework of ESD, to promote relevant science education, may help students recognizing the intimate connection between humans and nature in culture. It would create science learning directly relevant to daily life and society along with regional-specific examples, but could also lead to intercultural learning. Moreover, it could facilitate authentic science experiences, which engage students with cultural-historical views (Roth et al. 2008a ).

6 Research Frameworks and Didactic Models for Adopting Indigenous Science in Science Education

There are different foci of research on integrating indigenous science in science education. Some scholars suggest attention to empirical research in anthropological and psychological paradigms. This research tries to investigate the process of knowledge transition from a student’s life-world into science classrooms, which forms a cross-cultural experience (Aikenhead and Jegede 1999 ). The research focuses on conceptualized transition as “cultural border crossing” (Aikenhead 1996 ) and cognitive conflicts arising from different cultural settings (Jegede 1995 ). They need to be addressed and resolved as “collateral learning.” Research suggests investigating the nature of student’s prior knowledge and beliefs about scientific phenomena when exposed to a cross-cultural topic (Herbert 2008 ).

Other research aims to design instructional approaches that introduce indigenous science into the science classroom. Abonyi ( 1999 ) explored the effect of ethnoscience-based instructional approaches on student’s conception of scientific phenomena and attitudes towards science. The study aimed to resolve the cognitive conflicts of African students as a result of differences between their cultural background and Western science. In a similar approach, Aikenhead ( 2001 ) developed instructional strategies by involving the aboriginal community. The strategies involved the discussion about local content with elders and the aboriginal community to construct an aboriginal science education framework. Key values as a context for integration were identified. However, conflict arose when students faced the problem of taking information from one knowledge system and placing it into another. Also contextualization by indigenous science is a topic of research and development (Chandra 2014 ; Hamlin 2013 ; Kimmerer 2012 ; Sumida Huaman 2016 ; van Lopik 2012 ). Sometimes, indigenous science is used to contextualize curricula. This approach is suggested to be appropriate to accommodate sociocultural demands in science curricula as well as to meet students’ perception of relevance. However, it is necessary to consider the students’ perspectives about scientific phenomena formed by the two different knowledge systems (indigenous science and Western modern science) to avoid misconceptions and conflicts that can arise. The systemic evidence and research-based development of the curriculum is suggested to construct a reliable knowledge framework to fit indigenous science with currently operated science education curricula.

To introduce indigenous knowledge as content and contexts into science education, a multidiscipline view on science education is needed. For this, didactic models and theories might be useful. According to Duit ( 2015 , p. 325), Didaktik “stands for a multifaceted view of planning and performing the instruction. It is based on the German concept of Bildung [… and] concerns the analytical process of transposing (and transforming) human knowledge (the cultural heritage) into knowledge for schooling that contributes to Bildung .” It is suggested that didactic models can help teachers in their didactic choices (why? what? how? to teach). Furthermore, they can be useful in the design, action, and analysis of teaching, but also for critical meta-reflection about for instance teaching traditions. When used systematically, they can also be helpful in teacher professional development and have potential to contribute to research-informed teaching (Duit 2015 ).

Duit ( 2007 ) also has emphasized that multiple reference disciplines are relevant to understand and design science education. The reference disciplines are suggested to support science education research and development. These reference disciplines include the sciences, philosophy, and history of science, pedagogy, and psychology, and furthermore (Fig.  4 ). We suggest that local wisdom of indigenous science—where appropriate—could be named as a further reference discipline, or it could be understood implicitly as being part of science (incorporating also its non-Western body of knowledge), the history and philosophy of science (referring to the different history and maybe varying philosophy of non-Western science), and aspects of sociology, anthropology, and ethics.

A model of reference disciplines for science education (Duit 2007 )

A research-based model to dig into the content and context of indigenous knowledge for science education is the Model of Educational Reconstruction (MER) (Duit et al. 2005 ). This model links (1) the analysis of content structure, (2) research on teaching and learning, and (3) development and evaluation of instruction. It may also provide a framework to allow an educational reconstruction of indigenous science content in such a way that the resulting instruction meets students’ perspectives, abilities, and needs. Incorporating indigenous science perspective by educational reconstruction might provide a complex representation of indigenous science for education. The complexity may result from the integrated environmental, social, and idiosyncratic contexts, in order to demonstrate their role for the life of the individual in society. The integration of indigenous science as a sociocultural context for scientific questions can also provide social demand in science learning. Diethelm et al. ( 2012 ) and Grillenberger et al. ( 2016 ) adapted social demands in educational construction to develop the innovative topic of computer science. This approach suggests identifying social demands that are relevant for students to cope with requirements that society puts on them in their everyday lives. Transferred to the aspect of indigenous knowledge in science education, a resulting didactic model might look as suggested in Fig.  5 .

Educational design framework to incorporate indigenous knowledge with science education (developed based on: Diethelm et al. 2012 )

Based on the educational design framework, any phenomenon or process from indigenous science in question shall be analyzed both from the Western and indigenous perspectives. The analysis can provide a different view on one’s own knowledge system as well as it has the potential to enrich both perspectives to create a thoughtful dialog (Stephens 2000 ). The context and content relevant to the }indigenous science issue, which are contrasted by the Western view on the phenomenon/process, are analyzed based on the three perspectives Western modern science, students, and teachers. The analysis is suggested to facilitate the process of elementarization and the construction of the scientific content structure for instruction that can be enriched by putting it into contexts that are accessible for the learners (Duit 2007 ). The indigenous perspective on the phenomenon/process has potential to offer authentic contexts for science learning and encompasses sociocultural aspects from local wisdom values (e.g., tradition, beliefs, ethics, supernatural) (Pauka et al. 2005 ; Rist and Dahdouh-Guebas 2006 ) as well as from sustainability values (e.g., nature conservation and adapting to climate change) (Snively and Corsiglia 2000 ; Snively and Williams 2016 ). It is necessary to analyze also the social demands of educational significance of the context generated from the indigenous perspective. It offers a chance to reflect Western views on science and nature in science education for contributing to the development of more balanced and holistic worldviews as well as the development of intercultural understanding and respect (Brayboy and Maughan 2009 ; Hatcher et al. 2009 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ). Moreover, the indigenous ways of knowing can be used as starting points and anchors for scientific knowledge (Roth et al. 2008b ). Thus, the indigenous ways of knowing might also help to shape the knowledge already held in Western societies. The investigation of teachers’ and students’ perspective on indigenous knowledge is needed in order to identify their attitude, belief, and experiences towards the system of knowledge (Cronje et al. 2015 ; Fasasi 2017 ). The analysis also provides valuable information to avoid the conflict that could arise when the learners face different knowledge systems.

For the purpose of curriculum design, different perspectives (science, students, teachers, and society) are suggested to be analyzed to identify suitable content, contexts, and phenomena/processes for teaching about indigenous science. The structure in Fig. 5 takes into consideration that Diethelm et al. ( 2012 ) added two significant components to the original educational reconstruction model by Duit et al. ( 2005 ). One component is that contexts and phenomena are integrated, which suggest that science learning should start from a “real-world” phenomenon embedded in a context to open connections to prior experience of the student. This aims at encouraging students’ interest, and to show application situations of the intended knowledge. The second improvement is the analysis of social demands, which is a very important step to consider the educational significance of intended learning content, especially when it comes to integrating indigenous knowledge as part of a society’s wisdom other than Western modern science. The social demands might differ substantially in different places and cultures (countries, school, rural, or city areas). Accordingly, it is necessary to assess the educational significance of a certain topic respecting the specific circumstances, especially if it is culturally bounded. Analysis of social demands is a very important step to identify the educational significance of a certain topic (Diethelm et al. 2012 ). In the context of indigenous science, the analysis could be emphasized on the role of indigenous ways of knowing to promote education for sustainability. By drawing on indigenous knowledge, the issues connected to sustainability education can be included in the curriculum to provide an essential context for learning science.

The analysis of the science content structure informs how the phenomenon can be explained scientifically as well as to determine the required knowledge needed to understand the phenomenon or process (Diethelm et al. 2012 ). This step decides which concepts of modern science have to be dealt with in the lesson (Diethelm et al. 2012 ; Grillenberger et al. 2016 ). Meanwhile, the investigation of the students’ perspectives includes their cognitive and affective perspectives (Diethelm et al. 2012 ; Kattmann et al. 1996 ). The aim is to find out more general perspectives of certain groups of learners and different conceptualizations that students have when explaining scientific phenomena, concepts, or methods. Diethelm et al. ( 2012 ) considered this perspective an “official” scientific view, even if it was correct or not. The teachers’ perspective is needed as a key factor for the learning design and its implementation. This is because every teacher has different domain-specific knowledge and attitudes. In order to investigate the perspective of the student and teachers’ perspective about the phenomena of indigenous science, Snively ( 1995 ) introduced a five-step approach for exploring the two perspectives (Western science and indigenous science), when teaching about one concept or topic of interest. The process includes the following: (1) choose the topic of interest, (2) identify personal knowledge, (3) research the various perspectives, (4) reflect, and (5) evaluate the process (Table 6 ). This approach emphasized that discussion of the two perspectives might interpret the scientific phenomena differently, but the learner should see the overlap and reinforce each other.

The selection of phenomena is the central focus of the suggested framework in Fig. 5 . It emphasizes that learning science—as one out of different options—can start from a relevant indigenous context. Accordingly, certain phenomena should be perceived with senses and ideally have a surprising or mysterious element and thus triggers curiosity (Grillenberger et al. 2016 ). Indigenous science contains scientific phenomena embedded with spirits, magic, religion, and personal experiences (Pauka et al. 2005 ). Spiritual aspects of indigenous society are not used as religious instruction in the curriculum, but as an acknowledgement of the responsibility and dependence of living beings on ecosystems and respect for the mysteries of the universe (Kawagley et al. 1998 ). It can provide an interesting topic for the students as well as encourage them to explore local wisdom behind the scientific phenomena. Indigenous ways of knowing can become starting points and anchors for useful scientific knowledge (Roth et al. 2008b ). Figure 5 suggests that indigenous science deals with scientific phenomena to be explained by science. Furthermore, the scientific phenomena are embedded in a particular cultural context that can be used to encourage students to explore the differences and similarities between their ideas, beliefs, values, and experiences between those coming from indigenous knowledge and Western science, respectively.

Design and arrangement of learning should include development and implementation as well as reflection of teacher and student experience. This process identifies ideas and concepts relevant for teaching as well as it includes developing design principles. The reflection can be repeated in order to suit the learning environments to the particular demands of a given setting (Grillenberger et al. 2016 ). For the process of design and development, Diethelm et al. ( 2012 ) proposed the Berlin Model of planning processes (e.g., Zierer and Seel 2012 ; Duit 2015 ), which encompasses four different decision areas: intentions (objectives, competencies, outcomes), content (topics, knowledge), teaching methods, and media. In the development of learning design, it should be considered the pedagogical approach which accommodates the relevance of science learning for learners as well as to promote sustainability. Eilks et al. ( 2013 ) used ESD-type curricula to develop the general skills of students facilitated by science education to achieve the goals of education for sustainable development. This pedagogical approach also involved socio-scientific issues to raise relevance in science learning that implicates the role of science and technology for society both present and future (Marks and Eilks 2009 ). Burmeister et al. ( 2012 ) pointed out four different basic models to implement issues of sustainable development into science education:

Adopting principles from sustainable practices in science and technology to the science education laboratory work

Adding sustainable science as content in science education

Using controversial sustainability issues for socio-scientific issues which drive science education.

Science education as a part of sustainability-driven school development

Models 2 (context-based) and 3 (socio-scientific issues-based) seem suitable for the integration of indigenous science context into science education. Indigenous science can provide the contexts for science learning with a view on sustainability when learners at the same time explore the Western science perspective related to the indigenous way of knowing and behind any natural phenomena. Moreover, students can be encouraged with socio-scientific issues (SSI) relevant to indigenous people including a discussion of differences in the ways indigenous and Western science, respectively, view natural phenomena, how modern Western and indigenous people develop solutions, and the reasons why they do so. This can establish a base for discussion about environmental and technological issues between people with (post-)modern Western and indigenous thinking for establishing sustainable societies (Snively and Williams 2016 ).

Accordingly, the SSI approach in the learning activity should give more attention to students’ soft skill development such as argumentation (Belova et al. 2015 ), decision-making (Feierabend and Eilks 2011 ), reasoning skills (Sadler and Zeidler 2005 ), and using appropriate information (Belova et al. 2015 ). In sociocultural means, for instance, it is about using the argumentation-based course to enhance the understanding of different worldviews (nature of science and indigenous knowledge) in global awareness of the impact of scientific, technological, and industrial activities on the environment (Ogunniyi and Hewson 2008 ). Another example is the discussion about the controversial issue regarding Western and traditional medicine. It can be discussed in terms of reflection on the moral principles that underpin science (de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ) and can be useful to develop argumentation and reasoning skills.

The integration of indigenous knowledge in science education also should consider the learning objectives based on the different target of educational level (school science, higher education, and across educational levels). In school science, some studies used context-based learning about indigenous knowledge to motivate and foster interest in science learning (Abonyi 2002 ; Hiwatig 2008 ; Fasasi 2017 ). This approach also could lead to intercultural understanding and respect in science learning (Brayboy and Maughan 2009 ; Hatcher et al. 2009 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ), as stated by Burford et al. ( 2012 ) as interculturality, which means “the inherent equality of different knowledge systems is acknowledged, with collaborative decision-making and an awareness of learning together towards share goals” (p. 33). In terms of sustainability, the learning attention should emphasize to bring together indigenous and non-indigenous students to learn about the environments, respecting their each culture, and educating future citizens to make wise decisions regarding long-term sustainable communities and environments (Snively and Williams 2016 ). This is, however, not limited to the inclusion of indigenous knowledge but should aim at all the different cultures present in multicultural classrooms.

In higher education, indigenous perspectives can contribute to greener science (e.g., ethnochemistry, ethnobotany, ethnomedicine). This includes learning about other substances and processes adopted from indigenous science, which are also in the focus of green chemistry (e.g., Sjöström and Talanquer 2018 ) and green agriculture. For instance, it can involve learning activities that involves the discussion about the development of highly effective biodegradable pesticides from neem tree oil ( Azadirachta indica ) by East Indian and North African peoples over 2000 years ago (Snively and Williams 2016 ). The information about biodegradable pesticide compounds from the neem tree could be used as a starting point to develop green chemistry lab activities. Across the educational levels, the focus of learning can give more emphasis on the nature of science views (more transdisciplinary and holistic), which parallels the discussion on sustainable and green science. The learning activity must shift to a transformative style by using ideas from the science classroom and multi-perspective views about sustainable science to see and experience the world differently in learner everyday lives (Murray 2015 ; Pugh et al. 2017 ). Accordingly, transformative education should be driven to reform the existing ways of knowing and understanding, to critically reflect on the values, beliefs, and worldviews that underpin them as well as to share the meanings that can contribute to sustainability (Sjöström et al. 2016 ; Tejedor et al. 2018 ; Mack et al. 2012 ).

7 Conclusion

Indigenous knowledge about nature and science generally differs from the traditional and dominant Western modern view of science in research and technical applications (Nakashima and Roué 2002 ; Iaccarino 2003 ; Mazzocchi 2006 ). It provides a different, alternative perspective on nature and the human in nature on its own right (Murfin 1994 ; Ogawa 1995 ) and therefore becomes authentic to persons having an indigenous background. It is also interesting that—more or less—similar ideas to the local wisdom of indigenous science also exist in Eastern spiritual thinking and alternative Western thinking. Such ideas are relevant to promote intercultural and intergenerational understanding and respect (Brayboy and Maughan 2009 ; Hatcher et al. 2009 ; de Beer and Whitlock 2009 ). From the discussion provided in this paper, it is suggested to carefully adopt views on and from indigenous knowledge into science education. Indigenous knowledge can provide further perspectives on nature and help us to reflect the nature of science. It offers rich contexts to initiate learning and connect science education with more holistic worldviews needed for promoting sustainability (e.g., Aikenhead and Michell 2011 ; Kim and Dionne 2014 ; Kim et al. 2017 ).

There is a lot of literature justifying a more thorough inclusion of culture into (science) education (e.g., Savelyeva 2017 ; Moon 2017 ; Wang 2016 ; Sjöström et al. 2017 ; Sjöström 2018 ). Justifications can be derived from different sources, like the concept of Bildung (Sjöström et al. 2017 ), as shown above. Indigenous cultures can play a role by strengthening the cultural component of science education (Hatcher et al. 2009 ; Murray 2015 ). For this, research on indigenous knowledge in science needs to be analyzed with respect to its potential for science education. It might be educationally reconstructed for integrating it into science teaching and learning. Here we have presented some frameworks and didactic models for how to elaborate on and design science education for sustainability that take indigenous knowledge and related non-Western and alternative Western ideas into consideration. Further work needs to focus on evidence-based curriculum development in science education on the integration of indigenous knowledge. This development, however, needs special care and sensitivity because it deals with different cultures, worldviews, and ethical considerations. Further discussion might also include aspects of the historical development of indigenous knowledge, the history of colonialism, and the long-term effects colonialism still has on societies and science education in many parts of the world (e.g., Boisselle 2016 ; Ryan 2008 ). Such a discussion, just like the discussion in this paper, needs respect to indigenous communities; if possible, it could be done in cooperation and exchange with persons from the corresponding communities.

Change history

13 march 2021.

A Correction to this paper has been published: https://doi.org/10.1007/s11191-021-00194-2

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We are grateful for the support afforded by the Islamic Development Bank and the Indonesian Ministry of Research, Technology and Higher Education, Indonesia.

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Zidny, R., Sjöström, J. & Eilks, I. A Multi-Perspective Reflection on How Indigenous Knowledge and Related Ideas Can Improve Science Education for Sustainability. Sci & Educ 29 , 145–185 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11191-019-00100-x

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Indigenous Peoples

Indigenous Peoples are culturally distinct societies and communities. Although they make up approximately 6% of the global population, they account for about 19% of the extreme poor.

Indigenous Peoples are distinct social and cultural groups that share collective ancestral ties to the lands and natural resources where they live, occupy or from which they have been displaced. The land and natural resources on which they depend are inextricably linked to their identities, cultures, livelihoods, as well as their physical and spiritual well-being. They often subscribe to their customary leaders and organizations for representation that are distinct or separate from those of the mainstream society or culture. Many Indigenous Peoples still maintain a language distinct from the official language or languages of the country or region in which they reside; however, many have also lost their languages or on the precipice of extinction due to eviction from their lands and/or relocation to other territories, and in. They speak more than 4,000 of the world´s 7,000 languages  though some estimates indicate that more than half of the world's languages are at risk of becoming extinct by 2100.

There are an estimated 476 million Indigenous Peoples worldwide . Although they make up just 6 percent of the global population, they account for about 19 percent of the extreme poor . Indigenous Peoples’ life expectancy is up to 20 years lower than the life expectancy of non-Indigenous Peoples worldwide. Indigenous Peoples often lack formal recognition over their lands, territories and natural resources, are often last to receive public investments in basic services and infrastructure and face multiple barriers to participate fully in the formal economy, enjoy access to justice, and participate in political processes and decision making. This legacy of inequality and exclusion has made Indigenous Peoples more vulnerable to the impacts of climate change and natural hazards , including to disease outbreaks such as COVID-19.  

While Indigenous Peoples own, occupy, or use a quarter of the world’s surface area. Indigenous Peoples conserve 80 percent of the world´s remaining biodiversity  and recent studies reveal that forestlands under collective IP and local community stewardship hold at least one quarter of all tropical and subtropical forest above-ground carbon They hold vital ancestral knowledge and expertise on how to adapt, mitigate, and reduce climate and disaster risks.  

Much of the land occupied by Indigenous Peoples is under customary ownership, yet many governments recognize only a fraction of this land as formally or legally belonging to Indigenous Peoples . Even when Indigenous territories and lands are recognized, protection of boundaries or use and exploitation of natural resources are often inadequate. Insecure land tenure is a driver of conflict, environmental degradation, and weak economic and social development. This threatens cultural survival and vital knowledge systems – loss in these areas increasing risks of fragility, biodiversity loss, and degraded One Health (or ecological and animal health) systems which threaten the ecosystem services upon which we all depend.

Improving security of land tenure, strengthening governance, promoting public investments in quality and culturally appropriate service provision, and supporting Indigenous systems for resilience and livelihoods are critical to reducing the multidimensional aspects of poverty while contributing to sustainable development and the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). The World Bank works with Indigenous Peoples and governments to ensure that broader development programs reflect the voices and aspirations of Indigenous Peoples.

Over the last 30 years, Indigenous Peoples’ rights have been increasingly recognized through the adoption of international instruments such as the   United Nations Declaration on the Rights of I ndigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007, the Ameri can Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2016, the Regional Agreement on Access to Information, Public Participation and Justice in Environmental matters in Latin America and the Caribbean (Escazú Agreement) in 2021 and the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention from 1991. At the same time, global institutional mechanisms have been created to promote Indigenous peoples’ rights such as the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII), the Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (EMRIP), and the UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNSR).

Last Updated: Apr 06, 2023

The World Bank has established a network of Regional Indigenous Peoples Focal Points who work together with a Global Coordinator for Indigenous Peoples. This network of professionals works to enhance the visibility and inclusion of Indigenous Peoples in the Bank’s analytical work, Systematic Country Diagnostics (SCDs), Country Partnership Frameworks, national policy dialogues, and public investment lending and trust funds.

The E nvironmental and Social Framework (ESF) , the World Bank’s framework that supports borrowers to better manage project risks as well as improve environmental and social performance, contains a standard on Indigenous Peoples/Sub-Saharan African Historically Underserved Traditional Local Communities (ESS7). This standard contributes to poverty reduction and sustainable development by ensuring that projects supported by the Bank enhance opportunities for Indigenous Peoples to participate in, and benefit from, the investments financed by the Bank in ways that respect their collective rights, promote their aspirations, and do not threaten or impact their unique cultural identities and ways of life. Currently, ESS7 is being applied in approximately 33 percent of the Bank’s investment lending.

The World Bank is engaging with Indigenous Peoples’ organizations to better understand and build upon traditional knowledge for climate change mitigation and adaptation solutions. Through direct grants to indigenous organizations and inclusion in national programs, the Bank is also working to promote the recognition and strengthening of Indigenous Peoples’ significant contributions as stewards of the world’s forests and biodiversity.

This is particularly relevant to the Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation plus (REDD+) agenda, where – given their close relationships with and dependence on forested lands and resources – Indigenous Peoples are key stakeholders. Specific initiatives in this sphere include: a Dedicated Grant Mechanism (DGM) for Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities under the Forest Investment Program (FIP) in multiple countries; a capacity building program oriented partly toward Forest-Dependent Indigenous Peoples by the Forest Carbon Partnership Facility (FCPF) ; support for enhanced participation of Indigenous Peoples in benefit sharing of carbon emission reduction programs through the Enhancing Access to Benefits while Lowering Emissions - EnABLE Fund; and analytical, strategic planning, and operational activities in the context of the FCPF and the BioCarbon Fund Initiative for Sustainable Forest Landscapes (ISFL) . Indigenous Peoples are also observers to the Climate Investment Funds (CIF) . 

Increased engagement and dialogue and awareness of Indigenous Peoples’ rights have yielded results at the global, regional, country, and community levels. Examples include:

World Bank direct dialogues with Indigenous Peoples

At a global level, the Bank holds an ongoing dialogue with the Inclusive Forum for Indigenous Peoples (IFIP), comprised of Indigenous Peoples representatives from Africa, East Asia and the Pacific, Europe and Central Asia, Latin America and the Caribbean, and South Asia. This dialogue provides an opportunity for the Bank to deepen understanding on issues critical for Indigenous Peoples across the globe and inform Bank strategies. It also serves to inform Indigenous leaders about Bank strategies and work and allows for learning across regions. Finally, it serves to facilitate dialogue for Indigenous organizations with the Bank’s regional and country teams.  

At a regional level, the World Bank’s Latin American and Caribbean team maintains an ongoing dialogue and strategic work with the Abya Yala Indigenous Forum (FIAY) and the Indigenous Fund for Latin American and the Caribbean (FILAC). The objective of this dialogue is to enhance mutual understanding between the Bank and Indigenous organizations, facilitate the more effective application of ESS7, and build Indigenous Peoples inclusion and voice in the policy dialogue and investments financed by the Bank in the Region.

At national levels, in Nepal , the Bank has launched an Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities Consultative Forum. This Forum serves as a round-table for knowledge exchange and dialogue to enhance the Bank’s engagement with Indigenous peoples and/or local communities across the portfolio in Nepal, with a particular focus on forestry. The first Forum meeting was held on March 14th, 2022 and will continue on a quarterly basis.

In Kenya , the Bank is supporting the National Gender and Equality Commission (NGEC) to develop an Inclusive Development Framework for Marginalized Communities.

Advancing knowledge and analytics relevant for Indigenous Peoples

In the Philippines , the Bank has been implementing an Indigenous Peoples engagement strategy focusing on four pillars: a) Dialogue with IP communities and other ethnic minorities, NGOs and CSOs working on IP issues; b) Partnerships with government agencies and donors to promote IP inclusion; c) Data and Analytics to build robust evidence demonstrating the developing challenges affecting indigenous populations; and d) Policy and Operations to mainstream IP issues within Bank operations and also propose IP-specific IPF projects directly benefiting and promoting indigenous communities.  In this regard, three core activities are underway: An Indigenous Peoples report titled "No Data No Story: Indigenous Peoples in the Philippines Report; An Indigenous Peoples and Ancestral Domains Data and Information Platform and Portal; An Indigenous Peoples-specific household survey to provide data that will inform the Bank's and government's policy and operations.

In an effort to contribute to global public knowledge, the Bank has been advancing two initiatives to promote knowledge and good practice in priority areas for Indigenous peoples. These include: (i) a Good Practice Note of Commercial Development in Indigenous Peoples Lands & Territories, and (ii) a Technical Note on the Key Drivers for Indigenous Peoples Resilience, that is being prepared with  Indigenous leaders and organizations. In addition to informing Bank finance and policy dialogue on how to best support IP resilience, the Note also aims to contribute to building more resilient societies by promoting a deeper understanding of the benefits of Indigenous peoples' practices of collectivity, solidarity, and sustainable co-existence with the natural environment.

Indigenous Peoples in World Bank Systematic Country Diagnostics (SCDs) and Country Partnership Frameworks (CPFs)

Building on the engagement and analytics of the World Bank in countries across the world, Indigenous Peoples are gaining increased visibility in upstream country planning documents. Illustrative examples can be found in the SCDs and CPFs of Cameroon, Central African Republic, Congo, Guatemala, Lao PDR, Myanmar, Panama, Papua New Guinea, the Philippines, Solomon Islands, and Vietnam .

Investing in Indigenous Peoples’ priorities

In Kenya , the Financing Locally Led Climate Action (FLLoCA) program is supporting partnerships between governments and communities to assess climate risks and identify socially inclusive solutions that are tailored to local needs and priorities. Indigenous peoples or traditionally marginalized groups represent a significant proportion of beneficiaries.

In 2020 the World Bank approved Development Policy Operations (DPOs) in Guatemala and Panama that included policy reforms in areas prioritized by Indigenous Peoples. These include: the approval of the Action Plan to Implement the National Midwives Policy in Guatemala and the approval a legal framework that legally adopts the National Indigenous Peoples Development Plan of Panama, requiring a national budgetary allocation for its implementation each year. Both of these policy actions have been subsequently approved by the national authorities in these countries. 

In Ecuador , the Bank approved a loan for $40 million to support territorial development priorities for Indigenous, Afro-Ecuadorian, and Montubian peoples and nationalities in the areas of economic development, governance, and COVID-19 response. This project was designed and will be implemented by the Government of Ecuador in partnership with Indigenous, Afro-Ecuadorian and Montubian organizations at both national and territorial levels.  

In Panama , in 2018, the Bank approved the first loan in more than 20 years for $80 million to support what Indigenous Peoples have put forward as their vision for development through the National Indigenous Peoples Development Plan. Jointly developed by Indigenous Peoples, the government and World Bank, this project aims to strengthen governance and coordination for Indigenous Peoples to partner as drivers in their own development, while supporting improvements in access, quality, and cultural pertinence of basic service delivery, in accordance with the Indigenous Peoples’ vision and development priorities. 

In Laos , the Poverty Reduction Fund Project (PRF) III was established as one of the Government of Lao PDR's main vehicles to decrease rural poverty and deliver infrastructure services in rural areas. Under the two preceding World Bank-supported projects, the PRF has improved access to infrastructure for well over a million-rural people through implementing more than 4,700 subprojects. The PRF II (2011-2016) alone improved access to infrastructure for more than 567,000 rural people, financing 1,400 subprojects prioritized by beneficiary communities . Ethnic minorities account for approximately 70% of project beneficiaries.

In Cambodia , the Voice and Action: Social Accountability for Improved Service Delivery project facilitated and supported the social inclusion of ethnic minorities, women, and other vulnerable and marginalized communities in effective access to service delivery. Ethnic minorities were hired by local government as community accountability facilitators and improved the quality of service provision in six different Indigenous languages (Khmer-Lao, Kreung, Kuoy, Proav, Mill, and Kraol) through mobile loudspeaker and radio broadcasts.

Approximately 33 percent of the Bank’s investment portfolio applies ESS7, and in so doing, is ensuring that governments work in consultation withIndigenous Peoples to promote their inclusion in project benefits and mitigation of adverse impacts.

Direct grants to Indigenous Peoples through Climate, Forestry and other Trusts Funds

• Climate change is a priority area where the World Bank works closely with Indigenous Peoples and seeks to deepen and expand engagement. The World Bank has supported three different direct grant mechanisms for Indigenous peoples, which have gradually contributed to capacity building and participation of Indigenous Peoples in climate policy dialogue, forest management, and participation in the benefits of emissions reductions.  

Last Updated: May 10, 2023

Social Sustainability & Inclusion

World bank operational policies.

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• Facebook Live on Indigenous Peoples:
• Publications:
• Our People, Our Resources: Striving for a Peaceful and Plentiful Planet
• Indigenous Latin America in the Twenty-First Century
• A closer look at child mortality among Adivasis in India
• India: Unlocking Opportunities for Forest-Dependent People in India
• Blog posts:
• Why we need to talk about Roma inclusion
• Urban Indigenous Peoples: the new frontier
• Yes, how many deaths will it take till we know…
• Indigenous peoples, forest conservation and climate change: a decade of engagement
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It’s Time to Rethink the Idea of the “Indigenous”

By Manvir Singh

Identity evolves. Social categories shrink or expand, become stiffer or more elastic, more specific or more abstract. What it means to be white or Black, Indian or American, able-bodied or not shifts as we tussle over language, as new groups take on those labels and others strip them away.

On August 3, 1989, the Indigenous identity evolved. Moringe ole Parkipuny, a Maasai activist and a former member of the Tanzanian Parliament, spoke before the U.N. Working Group on Indigenous Populations, in Geneva—the first African ever to do so. “Our cultures and way of life are viewed as outmoded, inimical to national pride, and a hindrance to progress,” he said. As a result, pastoralists like the Maasai, along with hunter-gatherers, “suffer from common problems which characterize the plight of indigenous peoples throughout the world. The most fundamental rights to maintain our specific cultural identity and the land that constitutes the foundation of our existence as a people are not respected by the state and fellow citizens who belong to the mainstream population.”

Parkipuny’s speech was the culmination of an astonishing ascent. Born in a remote village near Tanzania’s Rift Valley, he attended school after British authorities demanded that each family “contribute” a son to be educated. His grandfather urged him to flunk out, but he refused. “I already had a sense of how Maasai were being treated,” he told the anthropologist Dorothy Hodgson in 2005. “I decided I must go on.” He eventually earned an M.A. in development studies from the University of Dar es Salaam.

In his master’s thesis, Parkipuny condemned the Masai Range Project, a twenty-million-dollar scheme funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development to boost livestock productivity. Naturally, then, U.S.A.I.D. was resistant when the Tanzanian government hired him to join the project. In the end, he was sent to the United States to learn about “proper ranches.” He travelled around until, one day, a Navajo man invited him to visit the Navajo Nation, the reservation in the Southwest.

“I stayed with them for two weeks, and then with the Hopi for two weeks,” he told Hodgson. “It was my first introduction to the indigenous world. I was struck by the similarities of our problems.” The disrepair of the roads reminded him of the poor condition of cattle trails in Maasailand.

Parkipuny had always thrived on confrontations with authority. Once, as a high schooler, he was nearly expelled when he burned grass (the Maasai method of bush clearing) instead of cutting it, as instructed. He later recalled that, when the headmaster threatened to hit him, he replied, “If you beat me with a stick I will get mine, because my traditions do not allow this. I ask you to give me another punishment.” This outspokenness propelled his activism. Following his American sojourn, he started to publicize the Maasai’s plight in international circles, linking it with other struggles. He met members of tribal nations in New Mexico and Canada to sharpen his understanding of Indigenous issues, and allied with the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs, headquartered in Copenhagen.

By the time Parkipuny showed up in Geneva, the concept of “indigenous” had already undergone major transformations. The word—from the Latin indigena , meaning “native” or “sprung from the land”—has been used in English since at least 1588, when a diplomat referred to Samoyed peoples in Siberia as “Indigenæ, or people bred upon that very soyle.” Like “native,” “indigenous” was used not just for people but for flora and fauna as well, suffusing the term with an air of wildness and detaching it from history and civilization. The racial flavor intensified during the colonial period until, again like “native,” “indigenous” served as a partition, distinguishing white settlers—and, in many cases, their slaves—from the non-Europeans who occupied lands before them.

Then came the nineteen-sixties and seventies. Liberation movements flourished. In New Zealand, the Polynesian Panthers worked with the group Ngā Tamatoa to rally for Maori rights. In the United States, the Red Power movement spawned groups like the American Indian Movement and the International Indian Treaty Council. Inspired by decolonization, activists from these groups coalesced, turning indigeneity into a global identity. What linked its members was firstness. Peoples like the Maori and the Sioux are not just marginalized minorities, activists stressed; they are aboriginal nations whose land and sovereignty have been usurped. With time, however, the identity was stretched further. When Parkipuny showed up in Geneva, activists were consciously remodelling indigeneity to encompass marginalized peoples worldwide, including, with Parkipuny’s help, in Africa.

Today, nearly half a billion people qualify as Indigenous. If they were a single country, it would be the world’s third most populous, behind China and India. Exactly who counts as Indigenous, however, is far from clear. A video for the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues begins, “They were always here—the original inhabitants.” Yet many peoples who are now considered Indigenous don’t claim to be aboriginal—the Maasai among them. According to Maasai oral histories, their ancestors arrived in Tanzania several hundred years ago from a homeland they call Kerio, likely situated near South Sudan.

Conversely, being first doesn’t seem to make you Indigenous. A handful of Gaelic monks and then the Vikings were the first people to arrive in Iceland (they settled there earlier than the Maori arrived in New Zealand), yet their descendants, the Icelanders, are rarely touted as Indigenous. Farther east, modern-day Scandinavians can trace most of their ancestry to migrations occurring in 4000 and in 2500 B.C., but it’s the Sami reindeer herders, whose Siberian ancestors arrived in Scandinavia closer to 1500 B.C., who get an annual entry in the “Indigenous World” yearbook.

In place of firstness, a U.N. fact sheet lists self-identification as the key criterion. This doesn’t quite work, either. It is true that some surprising candidates have gained recognition through activist self-designation, such as the Mincéirs of Ireland. (The Mincéirs, sometimes mistakenly called “Irish gypsies,” may have separated from the settled Irish population only several hundred years ago.) Other such groups have been denied recognition. In 1999, when Basters, mixed-race descendants of Khoi pastoralists and Afrikaners, read a statement at a U.N. forum about Indigenous affairs, hundreds of delegates walked out in protest. At the same time, many people are called Indigenous without their knowledge or consent.

If it is neither necessary nor sufficient for the Indigenous to be indigenous, what fills the conceptual space? A natural candidate, worryingly, is primitiveness. As several recent books show, centuries of colonialism have entangled indigeneity with outdated images of simple, timeless peoples unsullied by history. In “ Beyond Settler Time ,” Mark Rifkin observes that popular representations freeze Indigenous peoples in “a simulacrum of pastness.” In “ Prophets and Ghosts: The Story of Salvage Anthropology ,” Samuel J. Redman describes how efforts to document dying Indigenous cultures often centered on a search for “an idyllic, heavily romanticized, and apparently already bygone era of uncorrupted primitive societies.”

The conflation of indigeneity with primitiveness can be stifling. Indigenous intellectuals—including the Lenape scholar Joanne Barker and the Maori scholar Evan Poata-Smith—write about the pressure to adopt identities that are “primordial,” “naturalistic,” and “unchanging.” Fail to do so, they say, and you risk looking inauthentic. Rather than being harmless, Barker notes in “ Native Acts ” (2011), such standards make it “impossible for Native peoples to narrate the historical and social complexities of cultural exchange, change, and transformation—to claim cultures and identities that are conflicted, messy, uneven, modern, technological, mixed.”

Indigeneity is powerful. It can give a platform to the oppressed. It can turn local David-vs.-Goliath struggles into international campaigns. Yet there’s also something troubling about categorizing a wildly diverse array of peoples around the world within a single identity—particularly one born of an ideology of social evolutionism, crafted in white-settler states, and burdened with colonialist baggage. Can the status of “Indigenous” really be globalized without harming the people it is supposed to protect?

Peoples in Australia, New Zealand, and North America have long sent petitions to British royalty. Two Indigenous leaders—the Haudenosaunee chief Deskaheh and the Maori prophet T. W. Rātana—even appealed to the League of Nations for recognition, in 1923 and 1924, respectively. But before the Second World War Indigenous people appealed to international audiences only as representatives of local groups. To understand the origins of a global Indigenous identity, we need to turn to the activist networks that formed in the nineteen-sixties and seventies. And this means turning to George Manuel.

Born in 1921 in the Shuswap territory of British Columbia, Manuel started to think seriously about a global Indigenous identity in 1971. He was then the president of the National Indian Brotherhood, a young organization representing Canada’s two hundred and fifty thousand officially recognized “status Indians.” When the Canadian government arranged for a delegation to go to the South Pacific to learn about the Maoris’ place in New Zealand, Manuel was invited along as the representative of Canada’s Indigenous peoples.

The start of the trip was frustrating. Like a tourist visiting North Korea, Manuel was whisked from one exhibition to another, presented with a Shangri-La fantasy of the Maori experience. Yet he was determined to escape the spectacle and, when given a chance, he invited Maori politicians and a troupe of Maori entertainers to his hotel room for an honest chat.

By this point, Manuel was fluent in the politics of Canada’s First Nations. As he told the Yukon newspaper the Whitehorse Daily later that year, “We want to maintain our special status, our special rights, and we want to go deeper and find evidence to prove we have special rights as the original inhabitants.” What struck him about his unofficial tour was that the Maori were engaged in the same struggle. They, too, were an Indigenous people fighting a white Commonwealth nation for land, representation, and cultural survival: “What we are doing here in Canada is a part of a world wide movement for cultural autonomy and aboriginal rights of native people.”

From New Zealand, Manuel travelled to northern Australia, where he encountered even fiercer assimilation campaigns. When invited to talk to an assembly of Aboriginal students, he condemned Australian paternalism and told the students to “be proud you are dark. We have every reason to be as proud as the white man. And maybe more.” He pointed to their shared persecution: “Just as much as the Maoris and Aborigines, the Indian people in Canada are dark people in a White Commonwealth.”

The trip stirred up dreams of a conference that would set the stage for “some more lasting institution.” In October, 1975, the vision materialized. Delegates from nineteen countries—almost all in the Americas or Oceania; none from Africa or Asia—met on the Tseshaht reservation, on Vancouver Island, where they founded the World Council of Indigenous Peoples. Manuel was elected the first president. In the lead-up to the conference, attendees decided not to call themselves “Aboriginal people” and went instead with “Indigenous people,” defined partly as people “who are descendants of the earliest populations living in the area and who do not, as a group, control the national government of the countries within which they live.”

The expansion of indigeneity is visible in the history of the World Council, and then in the U.N. Working Group on Indigenous Populations, which was founded in 1982, and—in part because it benefitted from more regular meetings, the resources of the U.N., and the promise of drafting international law—effectively supplanted the council. Across two decades, the working group metamorphosed from an overwhelmingly American assemblage into an international one. At its first meeting, all but one of the ten Indigenous groups represented were from the Americas; in 1984, Asians started showing up, and in 1989 Parkipuny opened the floor for Africans.

The process had its hiccups. The Cuban diplomat who served as a Special Rapporteur for the group in the nineteen-nineties, Miguel Alfonso Martínez, insisted that Asians and Africans could not qualify as Indigenous. Delegates felt otherwise; they sought a truly transnational identity. But, after years of debate, they decided that no objective definition was possible. Even the World Council’s stipulation that an Indigenous people didn’t control the national government wasn’t quite on target. On the one hand, the Icelanders, who haven’t been considered Indigenous, were for a period under the absolute rule of a Danish king. On the other hand, the U.N. deems the Samoans to be Indigenous, and yet they are the dominant social, cultural, and political group of Samoa.

The U.N., in its 2021 report on the “State of the World’s Indigenous Peoples,” determined that eighty-six per cent of them live in Asia, Africa, and the Pacific. Who’s entitled to the status remains a subject of contention. Hmong people living in Minnesota send delegates to the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, in New York; Dalits in India, the Roma in Eastern Europe, and Christians in Saudi Arabia remain, for the most part, outside the circle of indigeneity. Identifying which criteria are at play is tricky, but anthropologists and social theorists like Adam Kuper and André Béteille argue that our concept of indigeneity is bound up with outdated ideas about so-called primitive peoples. The tropes persist; we have merely replaced one set of terms for another. Even if you are not aboriginal, you can count as Indigenous if you come across as simple, egalitarian, culturally encapsulated, spiritually attuned to nature, and somehow isolated from history and civilization.

When Parkipuny appeared in Geneva, the Maasai were well established as emblems of “primitive” Africa. With spears, shields, and stretched earlobes, they adorned postcards, documentaries, travelogues, and coffee-table books. You’d see a stoic, ochre-coated man wearing an ostrich-feather headdress like a lion’s mane, or a woman with a shaved head staring at the camera, her neck lost amid beaded necklaces. Almost always, the Maasai were pictured draped in bold red fabric, a shocking burst of fire in landscapes of brown and green. (Photographers relieve them of their sunglasses and watches.)

For decades, the Tanzanian government exploited this imagery. As tourism and big-game hunting flourished, photographs of the Maasai decorated brochures and guidebooks: human scenery garnishing Africa’s untamed wilderness. At the same time, government officials sought to justify the expropriation of Maasai land for more lucrative projects, like wildlife tourism. Pastoralism and conservation were incompatible, the party line suggested; maintaining one image of wildness (the pristine, wildebeest-filled grassland) justified an attack on the other (the Stone Age cattle herder).

Parkipuny reclaimed the imagery of primitivism using the language of indigeneity. Soon after returning from Geneva, he co-founded the first Maasai N.G.O., calling it Korongoro Integrated People Oriented to Conservation, or KIPOC , which means “we will recover” in the Maasai language. In a document for donors, the organization explained that the “indigenous minority nationalities” in Tanzania had “maintained the fabric of their culture.” Rather than being respected, however, they were “looked down at, as backward and evolutionary relics,” and denied access to services like education. The Maasai crusade was thus “part of the global struggle of indigenous peoples to restore respect to their rights, cultural identity and to the land of their birth.”

The rhetoric was effective. Two Dutch organizations promptly sent money for facilities, salaries, and operating expenses. In 1994, Parkipuny helped establish an umbrella organization, PINGOs (Pastoralists and Indigenous Peoples N.G.O.s) Forum, that advocated for Tanzania’s pastoralists and hunter-gatherers as Indigenous Africans. Yet, even as international groups rallied behind him, Parkipuny found growing resistance, sometimes violent, from his fellow-Tanzanians. The reason was not just his role as an advocate of Maasai interests. In the book “ Being Maasai, Becoming Indigenous ” (2011), Hodgson showed that another Maasai organization, Inyuat e Maa, aroused far less resistance. The domestic opposition that Parkipuny encountered partly reflected his style, which many Maasai found combative. But it also likely stemmed from his insistence on indigeneity, which was seen as promoting “tribalism”—something Tanzania wanted to avoid. Aware of events in neighboring countries like Kenya, the government feared that ethnic mobilization could invite insurgent violence and economic instability.

Organizing on the basis of indigeneity hindered interethnic coalition-building, too. Other ethnic groups saw indigeneity as something the Maasai exploited to funnel money and attention toward themselves. At a PINGOs meeting in 2000, there were impassioned complaints that PINGOs , supposedly acting for all of Tanzania’s pastoralists and hunter-gatherers, was really a Maasai oligarchy. As a Maasai activist and lawyer admitted to Hodgson half a decade later, “One problem with ‘indigenous’ is that everyone who hears it thinks ‘Maasai.’ So it worked at the national level to limit rather than expand our possible alliances and collaborations.” By the time he spoke to Hodgson, he and many other Maasai activists had largely dropped the rhetoric of indigeneity: “Now we focus on building alliances with the nation, not with international actors.”

A politics built around indigeneity, many organizers fear, can reify ethnic boundaries. It encourages people to justify why their ethnic group, and not another, deserves particular resources and accommodations. It weakens domestic ties, which are otherwise critical for oppressed minorities. But it also contributes to one of the stranger consequences arising from a rhetoric of indigeneity: its co-option by far-right nationalists. As peoples like the Maasai have lost confidence in the rhetoric, ethnic nationalists worldwide have come to embrace it. Writing for a Hindu Right propaganda Web site in 2020, a columnist observed, “In the game of woke, we Hindus actually hold all possible cards. We are people of color. We come from an indigenous culture that is different from the organized religions. . . . How could we not be winning every argument?”

In 1987, two years before Parkipuny’s historic speech at the U.N. Working Group on Indigenous Populations, five delegates from India landed in Geneva for the group’s annual meeting. They represented the newly established Indian Council of Indigenous and Tribal Peoples, and were led by figures such as Professor Ram Dayal Munda, a linguist with a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. Their goal was to establish the indigeneity of India’s “tribal” communities, also known as Adivasis.

The delegates’ arguments followed a decades-long discussion about Adivasi identity. At the time of India’s independence, in 1947, people disagreed on how to think about the communities inhabiting the country’s hills and forests. The Indian sociologist G. S. Ghurye declared them to be “backward Hindus.” Mahatma Gandhi considered them a peasant caste to be integrated into the nation. Yet the English-born anthropologist Verrier Elwin, starting in the nineteen-thirties and forties, favored an account that was both idealized and soaked in primitivist imagery. He imagined Adivasis to be the inverse of modernity: free, primordial, attuned to the rhythms of nature. The image appealed to Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first Prime Minister, and the conception has stuck. To this day, the Indian government defines “Scheduled Tribes”—an official designation that, for many Indians, is largely equivalent to the Sanskrit-derived term Adivasi—based on five criteria: “(i) indications of primitive traits, (ii) distinctive culture, (iii) geographical isolation, (iv) shyness of contact with the community at large, and (v) backwardness.”

Given these associations, it is not surprising that the international community, including the U.N. and the International Labor Organization, has embraced the Adivasis as Indigenous. In some instances, indigeneity has paid off. In 2014, with the help of Amnesty International and Survival International, the Dongria Kondh community, in eastern India, temporarily blocked the U.K.-based company Vedanta Resources from mining the Niyamgiri hills for bauxite.

Yet there is also what the anthropologist Alpa Shah calls a “dark side of indigeneity.” Between 1999 and 2008, she spent some thirty months living with Adivasis, mostly of the Munda ethnic group, in the Indian state of Jharkhand. Her book “ In the Shadows of the State ” (2010) offers a sobering picture of how activism organized around indigeneity can trap the communities it is supposed to liberate.

Many of the problems start with image management. To secure their status as Indigenous, Adivasis have needed to look tribal and non-modern. Urban activists necessarily endorse images of them as children of the forest. The resulting policies can be a boost for activists, intent on building domestic and international platforms. But they can also lead to what Shah calls “eco-incarceration,” reinforcing Adivasis’ marginalization. Consider their elephant issue. In one year, in a village of about five hundred and fifty people, Shah saw elephants destroy five houses. They devoured crops. They kicked a woman, leaving her with serious back injuries. Nearby villages were similarly terrorized, with nine people trampled to death.

The Mundas were not happy. They told Shah they wanted to chop down trees to stop the elephant incursion, but government policy, ostensibly aimed at helping them preserve their traditions, prohibited them from doing so. When she asked how they could survive without the jungle, many Mundas told her that she had it backward. They remembered a past when they cleared the trees rather than living surrounded by them. “After all, not so long ago there were no elephants here because there was no forest,” one villager told her.

Eco-incarceration goes beyond exposing Mundas to elephant attacks. Soon after arriving in India, Shah found Indigenous-rights activists pushing for anti-migration laws that would prevent Adivasis from taking factory jobs in neighboring states. The activists justified the restrictions with paternalistic language, claiming (no doubt with some truth) that factories were economically and sexually exploitative. But the proposed solution ignored the many reasons Adivasis have for leaving, like escaping repressive home environments. In the past several decades, thousands of Adivasis have joined militant insurgent groups, in large part, Shah argues in her new book, “ Nightmarch ,” because guerrillas treat them as equals, rather than as savages. Devoted to the image of happy Adivasis living at one with nature, urban activists end up denying them dignity and basic freedoms.

This isn’t to say that people who enact tribal caricatures necessarily chafe at doing so. In “ Adivasi Art and Activism ,” Alice Tilche, who worked with Adivasis at a “tribal museum” in Gujarat, reports that many took pride in primitivist performances. Others treated the dress-up as a kind of job, necessary for securing the benefits set aside for Scheduled Tribes. One Adivasi saw it as a professional obligation that he didn’t mind complying with: “Like policemen wear their uniforms—that’s what we wear.”

Still, there’s something troubling when advocates and patrons urge their putative beneficiaries to perform Victorian daydreams. As an anthropologist who works in remote parts of South America and Southeast Asia, I have seen how the primitivist ideologies connected to indigeneity can breed resentment. On a recent field trip to Colombia’s eastern rain forests, I asked a Huottüja teacher what he thought about the word “indigenous” ( indígena ). He said that he knew it only as “a word of discrimination”—something that implied his people were “savage, like wild animals.”

On July 4, 2009, Maasai pastoralists in the Loliondo area of Tanzania awoke to police officers and security forces demanding that they leave their villages. Hundreds of people and thousands of cattle were evicted. Over the next two days, the police harassed and jailed Maasai who grazed cattle in the area. When Maasai leaders refused to send their people away, the police burned as many as a hundred and fifty homesteads. In total, some ten thousand pastoralists were affected by the evictions.

The reason for the expulsions was wildlife tourism. Since the early nineteen-nineties, the Tanzanian government has leased hunting rights to the Otterlo Business Corporation (sometimes spelled Ortello), a U.A.E.-based company set up for Gulf élites who want to frolic in the Tanzanian wilderness. The Maasai kept their land rights but usually stayed away during the few months when sheikhs and millionaires arrived. In 2009, however, one of the harshest droughts in recent memory forced pastoralists to scout out grass and water in Loliondo just as the Dubai royals were supposed to arrive.

“The Maasai is good for a tourist’s photograph, useful to carry your bags to the camp, or even to guide you to see the animals,” Parkipuny told the Guardian at the time. “But in the end the animals are far more valuable than people.”

The evictions, combined with government plans to seize fifteen hundred square kilometres of Maasai land for the Emiratis, sparked a new wave of activism. Twenty thousand Maasai—more than a quarter of the population of Loliondo—turned out to protest. Three thousand women gathered and met with traditional and elected leaders. The Maasai of Loliondo contacted leaders and N.G.O.s from five districts with significant Maasai populations, mobilizing close to two hundred thousand citizens who threatened to abandon the ruling political party. In July and August, 2013, a delegation of eighty-nine Maasai travelled to Tanzania’s capital, Dodoma, where they demanded that the government reverse its decision. More than ninety students from the University of Dar es Salaam joined them.

In “ Selling the Serengeti ” (2016), the geographer Benjamin Gardner observed that this activism differed from the indigeneity-centered organizing that preceded it. Instead, “this movement was largely based on the idea that the Tanzanian state was unfairly persecuting Tanzanian citizens, specifically Tanzanian villagers who happened to be Maasai.”

Did the new approach work? In September, 2013, the Tanzanian Prime Minister said that the government would halt its plan to seize the land. Yet four years later there was a new wave of evictions, in which some hundred and eighty-five homesteads were torched and around sixty-eight hundred people left homeless. Finally, in 2022, a commissioner said that the government would continue the plan of setting aside land for wildlife—resulting, Maasai leaders say, in the dislocation of seventy thousand people.

Parkipuny died in July, 2013, amid the evictions. A Facebook page honoring him is bedecked with comments in Swahili like “ Tutakukumbuka daima Baba ” (“We will always remember you, Father”). With the newest wave of displacement, his daughter Yassi Moringe recalled, “everyone, especially the elder people, said, ‘Oh, they are taking us out of Maasailand because Parkipuny is not there.’ Everybody was saying, ‘I wish Parkipuny was here.’ ”

In a way, the evictions have brought him back. Indigeneity has reëntered Maasai activism. In April, 2022, thousands of Maasai signed a letter calling on “human rights organizations, media and other citizens who value Indigenous human rights” to oppose the Tanzanian government’s evictions and other actions against the Maasai. The word “Indigenous” appears nine times in the short letter, with two references to the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. “We Maasai Indigenous community are appealing for international support so that our land and our rights are respected,” the letter urged.

Indigeneity is a project of hope. It was crafted by enterprising activists over years of strategizing, absorbing ideas from Red Power, Third Worldism, African and Asian anti-colonialism, and the environmental movement. With it, people sought a politics of the oppressed, aiming to protect land and sovereignty, to turn “backward” natives into respected stewards. When indigeneity promised to deliver on these goals, by attracting the support of international organizations, the natural temptation was to stretch the concept until it covered as many disempowered peoples as possible, even at the cost of coherence.

And incoherence, of course, was an invitation to all those discredited stereotypes. Although the temptation is to fault the brokers of indigeneity—the N.G.O.s, politicians, academics, and urban activists who have promoted its ever-widening application—the resurrection of primitiveness is just as much a testament to the stickiness of a trope. The idea of the primordial savage is appealing. A symbol of everything modernity is not, it serves as a foil for decrying civilization’s corruption or for celebrating its achievements. But we cannot escape the colonial inheritance when we insist on summoning its ghosts. ♦

An earlier version of this article misstated the title of Dorothy Hodgson’s book.

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By Louisa Thomas

By Eric Lach

By River Clegg

By Adam Iscoe

How Indigenous peoples are reclaiming their celebrations of the summer solstice − and using them to resist

Teaching Assistant Professor, West Virginia University

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If we were to watch the Sun rise every morning, we would notice that its location appears to shift a little each day.

During springtime in the Northern Hemisphere, the Sun appears on the horizon farther north each day. Annually, around June 20 or 21, this motion appears to stop in what is known as the summer solstice . During that time, the Earth’s axis is angled toward the Sun, and the intensity of sunlight on the Northern Hemisphere is greatest.

As a historian of astronomy , I am interested in the role astronomical events had on ancient people and continue to have in modern times. My ancestors lived on the Central Mexican Plateau , where for many Indigenous cultures, both past and present, the rising and setting of the Sun during equinoxes and solstices were sacred events.

North American solstice rituals

The significance of the summer solstice to the Indigenous peoples of Mexico largely depended on regional agricultural cycles. The summer solstice was not acknowledged in the ritual calendar of the Aztecs . This may be because in the basin of Mexico the rainy season begins in early May, and there was little agricultural activity in June.

In the Sierra Madre Occidental range northwest of the basin, however, the rainy season begins in late June. The Wixárika people of the region celebrate the summer solstice with the festival of Namawita Neixa , marking the beginning of their planting season. The Wixárika are subsistence farmers who grow primarily maize, beans and squash. They are known for their annual pilgrimages into the Wirikuta desert, which they believe is the birthplace of the Sun.

For many of the Indigenous peoples of the U.S. and Canada, the summer solstice is associated with a ceremonial Sun dance . The ceremony is thought to have originated with the Sioux people and spread throughout the Great Plains in the early 19th century after being adopted by neighboring tribes.

This time period also coincided with the forced displacement of Indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands, resulting in extreme cultural changes, where bison hunting and communal land use were replaced with sedentary life and farming on individual plots of land.

Suppression of Indigenous culture

In 1883, the U.S. government began a campaign to suppress the Sun dances, designating them as offenses for which penalties included imprisonment . The dominant culture at the time did not consider Indigenous rituals and beliefs as genuine religion – it was thus believed that they could not be afforded the protections of the First Amendment.

In the struggle for religious freedom and to preserve their traditions, many tribal leaders presented the dances as social events and celebrations of national holidays , most notably the Fourth of July. In other tribal communities, the dances were held in secret.

It wasn’t until 1934 that the U.S. government partially reversed its policy and allowed the dance to be performed again, although still prohibiting some ritual aspects.

In 1972, almost a century after the initial suppression, the Lakota Sun Dance was held once again at the Pine Ridge Reservation in its full traditional form. Six years later, Congress passed the American Indian Religious Freedom Act , acknowledging the right of Native Americans to participate in traditional ceremonies, access sacred sites, and possess sacred objects.

Ritual to resistance

In modern times, Indigenous people are dealing with many other challenges that include environmental degradation and cultural appropriation.

In the Wirikuta desert of north-central Mexico, increased industrial farming has resulted in accelerated extraction of groundwater and the reduction of biodiversity. The Wixárika people are becoming increasingly concerned about the effect this is having on their traditional lifestyle.

Around the summer solstice of 2023, a special pilgrimage was made by members of a regional Wixárika council to pray for rain, protection of their sacred lands and “renewal of the world.” The region has been experiencing recent heat waves and droughts. After the ceremony, the council released a public statement in which it petitioned the Mexican government for protections for their way of life and the environment.

In the U.S., a new struggle surrounds the Sun dance: In the 1980s, nonnative entrepreneurs started the commercialization of Indigenous products and practices . This includes the organization of ceremonies and dances for profit , which are usually devoid of history and cultural context. The profits rarely trickle back into the communities, many of which struggle for basic resources. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, 1 in 3 Indigenous Americans live in poverty .

In response, during an international convention of Sioux people in June 1993, a unanimous Declaration of War Against Exploiters of Lakota Spirituality was passed, calling on all Indigenous peoples to resist the exploitation and abuse of their sacred traditions. This has led to limiting the participation of many Sun dances to tribal members. Today, Native Americans are still actively working to preserve their culture and spirituality .

Both the words “solstice” and “resist” derive from the Latin verb sistere , which means “to stop” or “to stand still.” Interestingly, some acts of resistance by Indigenous peoples to preserve their traditional ways of life revolve around the solstice.

The Wixárika people are asking the outside world to stop industrial practices that are damaging the environment. The Sioux are demanding a stop to the exploitation of their sacred traditions.

• Climate change
• Native Americans
• Cultural appropriation
• Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA)
• Indigenous peoples
• Summer solstice
• Religion and society

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Grounding the currents of Indigenous resistance

• January 16, 2018

Land & Liberation

Those joining the centuries-old Indigenous resistance in the Americas should discard Eurocentric narratives, epistemic violence and salvation narratives.

• Alex Wilson ,
• Praba Pilar

Indigenous peoples across the Americas have been rising up for 500 years, presenting multivalent forms of resistance to colonial violence, femicide, epistemicide and ecocide. The many faces and instances of this resistance do not register within leftist discourse and practice, and, in fact, are often invisibilized. As Indigenous women who have actively participated in and led community resistance to colonial violence, our response to the question “Why don’t the poor rise up?” is to share our own stories and the stories of our people here not as the answer to this question but as the context for our own question: “When will the left listen?”

This article was written at the onset of the fourth anniversary of the Idle No More movement and in the eighth month of the Indigenous-led action and encampment to stop construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline on sacred ancestral lands of the Standing Rock Sioux Nation. We write from our respective cosmological and geographical locations. Praba Pilar, a Colombian Mestiza woman, now lives at the juncture of the Red and Assiniboine rivers. Alex Wilson, who is Inniniwak, lives on the Saskatchewan River Delta in the traditional territory of her people, the Opaskwayak Cree Nation.

Indigenous resistance to colonization is the enduring history and present of the Americas, and the authors are connected as participants and organizers in Idle No More, a movement that draws together and organizes activists from throughout the Americas and beyond to honor Indigenous sovereignty and to protect the land and water. A considerable physical distance separates us, but the waterways along which we live flow into Lake Winnipeg, connecting us to one of the largest watersheds in the world, reaching west to Alberta, north to the Hudson Bay, east to the Great Lakes region and south well into the United States.

The complex structure and interactions within this river, lake and wetlands system offer a framework for our understanding of social movements. In our communities, Indigenous peoples’ cosmologies, lifeways and resistance focus on stewardship of the waters, lands, plants, animals and other life-forms that sustain us, and are guided by and govern ourselves based on traditional ethics that value relational accountability, reciprocity and collective and individual sovereignty. Navigating these interweaving ethical pathways have enabled our survival, as peoples, and now position us to reimagine a pluriverse that approaches the Zapatista’s concept of a “world in which many worlds coexist.”

Decolonizing the White Left

The question of why the poor do (not) rise up connects conceptually to the left. The American political philosopher Susan Buck-Morss reminds us that the contemporary left had its origin in European cosmology: “[T]he term ‘left’ is clearly a Western category, emerging in the context of the French Revolution.” The Argentinian scholar of modernity and coloniality Walter Mignolo acknowledges that the left has followed multiple trajectories and presented itself in multiple iterations (secular, theological, Marxist, European-influenced) around the globe but asserts that it can still most rightly be described as the “white left.” Mignolo’s naming of “the white left” is driven by the recognition that this movement emerged from a modernity that profits from and is dependent on coloniality.

This white left concerns us. Too often, its theorizing and work have universalized political categories that rely on and reflect exclusively European cosmologies, knowledges and theorists. Many, it seems, have forgotten the source of the languages, practices and legacies of the white left. Mignolo, however, has not: “Kant’s cosmopolitanism and its legacy propose the universalization of Western nativism/localism. And the Marxist left, for better or worse, belongs to that world.”

We acknowledge that there have been intersections (some of them meaningful and powerful) between the white left and Indigenous resistance in the Americas. Our question is broader. We question the axes of capitalism vs. socialism/communism, which cast Indigenous people as stand-ins for the proletariat or lumpenproletariat of capitalist Europe. Other non-white leftists have made similar challenges: “From Indian decolonial perspectives, the problem is not capitalism only, but also Occidentalism. Marx … proposed a class struggle within Occidental civilization, including the left, which originated in the West.”

We earlier described an ethical system that values relational accountability, reciprocity and collective and individual sovereignty for Indigenous peoples. These ethics, which existed well before the arrival of the earliest European explorers and settlers on our lands, have persisted and enabled us to maintain our resistance to colonial violence, ecocide and epistemicide. The interrelationships between our ethics, cosmologies, lifeways and the waters, lands and life-forms that sustain us are as complex and critical to our survival as those between the rivers, lakes and wetlands within the watershed where we reside. In our current political landscape, however, we must also navigate dangerously confining constructs introduced by European colonizers that function as ideological canals, locks and dams.

An early example of these confining constructs was the “Inter Caetera,” a papal bull issued by Pope Alexander VI in 1493 that laid out the justification for the Doctrine of Discovery. It established that Christian nations had a divine right (based on the Bible) to grant themselves legal ownerships of any “unoccupied” lands (where unoccupied was defined as the absence of Christian people) and dominion over any peoples on those lands.

A current example of these confining constructs is the salvation narrative unconsciously reproduced by many on the white left when they approach Indigenous or other non-European communities as allies but present solutions that have been developed in isolation, are paternalistic and/or are inappropriate to the context. Salvation narratives are often seen as benign, but they are not. They reflect and perpetuate the early justification for colonization, as described by Robert J. Miller in his book Native America, Discovered and Conquered , that “God had directed [Europeans] to bring civilized ways and education and religion to Indigenous peoples and to exercise paternalism and guardianship powers over them.”

Some on the white left rely on codified models of hierarchical leadership, structured authority and strategies and tactics, a construct that eradicates possibilities of deep alliance with many Indigenous people and groups who, for example, base their models on relationality or valorize community leadership rather than leadership vested in singular, celebrated figures. As Mignolo has observed, “Western Marxists belong to the same history of languages and memories as Christians, liberals and neoliberals. Marxism … is an outgrowth of Western civilization.”

For many on the white left, it can be difficult to recognize this. The ideological constructs introduced by the European colonizers have been here long enough that they may be mistaken for natural features of the political landscape. As Indigenous women engaged in resistance, we ask those on the white left to look more carefully, to acknowledge that colonization continues today, to make a choice to de-center the epistemic violence that accompanies it, and re-center themselves in decolonizing practices.

Hemispheric Connections

In the Southern Hemisphere of the Americas, co-author Praba comes from the largest highland plateau ecosystem in the world, the Páramo de Sumapaz of the Altiplano Cundinamarca in Colombia. Descended from the Muisca Chibcha of the Altiplano Cundiboyacense in the Cordillera Oriental of the Andes, she was forced to leave Colombia as part of a diaspora fleeing the horrors of the hemisphere’s longest continuous internal war. Canada is the tenth country in which she has lived. Colombia has one of the highest rates of emigration in the Americas, with roughly one of every ten citizens living outside of the country. An even greater proportion of the population (5.8 million people within the country’s total population of 48.9 million) have been internally displaced , and the majority of these are Indigenous and/or Afro-Colombian.

The Toemaida military base, founded in 1954, is located in the region of Colombia where Praba spent her early years. The United States has been involved in military action in Colombia since the mid-1800s, and American soldiers are a “ permanent presence ” at Tolemaida. As noted in the report “Contribution to the Understanding of the Armed Conflict in Colombia” ( Contribución al Entendimiento del Conflicto Armado en Colombia ), issued by the Historic Commission of the Conflict and its Victims ( Comisión Histórica del Conflicto y sus Víctimas ) in February of 2015:

United States governments of the last seven decades are directly responsible for the perpetuation of the armed conflict in Colombia, in terms of how they have promoted the counterinsurgency in all of its manifestations, stimulating and training the Armed Forces with their methods of torture and elimination of those who they consider “internal enemies” and blocking all non-military paths to solve the structural causes of the social and armed conflict.

The military at Tolemaida has continuously attacked the powerful Indigenous resistance in the region, and is now deliberately contaminating the water supply, dumping “battery packs, broken glass, and ceramics, slowly rotting camouflage patterned clothing and bedding, munitions boxes (labeled in English and produced in the United States), and electrical equipment of all sorts… the water is visibly toxic green in parts, orange in others, with an oily sheen, and chemical foam.”

Click image to watch the documentary From the Heart of the World on Youtube

The highest coastal mountain range in the world, La Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta lies in the north of Colombia. The source of 36 rivers, the mountains feature a range of climates and abundant biodiversity. Over thousands of years, the Kogi people, who have stewarded the lands and waters, and resisted and survived colonization with their practices, beliefs and cosmologies intact, have continuously occupied them. In 1990, the Kogi invited a British filmmaker, Alan Ereira, to work on a documentary entitled From the Heart of the World: The Elder Brothers’ Warning . The documentary recorded the devastating climactic and environmental impacts that petroleum and resource extraction industries have had on the lands and waters of the Kogi people.

Since then, the Kogi have “witnessed landslides, floods, deforestation, the drying up of lakes and rivers, the stripping bare of mountain tops, the dying of trees.” In response, the Kogi recently made a second film with Ereira entitled Aluna . In the film, they explain the complex relationship of water from the coastal areas and lagoons to glacial mountain peaks. “They want to show urgently that the damage caused by logging, mining, the building of power stations, roads and the construction of ports along the coast and at the mouths of rivers … affects what happens at the top of the mountain. Once white-capped peaks are now brown and bare, lakes are parched and the trees and vegetation vital to them are withering.” What do the Kogi ask for in the film? They ask for non-Indigenous people to engage with Indigenous peoples and knowledge, to protect the waterways, lands and living creatures, and to halt ecocide.

Indigenous Peoples in the Cross Hairs

Not far from the Kogi territory lays the Northeast desert terrain, home to the Wayúu, the largest Indigenous population in Colombia. Having survived paramilitary massacres and displacement, they are now starving and dying because their water supply has been dammed, privatized and diverted to the El Cerrejon coal mine owned by Angloamerican, Glencore, and BHP Billiton. As reported by the mine’s Director of International Relations, the mine “uses 7.1 million gallons of water a day in its 24-hour operations.” The International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs reports that the diversion of water, coupled with the current drought in the region, has left 37,000 Indigenous children in La Guajira malnourished and at least 5,000 dead of starvation. Armando Valbuena, the Wayúu traditional authority, identifies the actual number of deaths as “closer to 14,000, with no end in sight.”

The imposed national state borders of Venezuela and Colombia cross the territory of the Wayúu people. Both countries grossly violate Wayúu human rights. As Jakelyn Epieyu, of the Fuerza de Mujeres Wayúu relates , “I believe we live in a dictatorship of the left in Venezuela and in Colombia the dictatorship of the right, which has cost us blood and fire.” In Colombia, Indigenous and Afro-Colombians have been categorized as “a potential enemy to the identity of the nation. During the period when socio-biology and eugenics were popular ideologies of the ruling class and intellectuals of Latin America, Colombia defined the cultural base of the nation as ‘white.’”

This politics of blanqueamiento (becoming white) has persisted and affects every political arena in Colombia. As Misake community leader Segundo Tombé Morales relates , “[T]he indigenous movement, as understood in a general sense, remains on the floor, remains as if we were enemies of the Colombian people, of peasants, even any person today who sees an Indigenous person on the street, is enough motive for rejection and contempt.”

These are not abstractions or polemical discussions. These are lived experiences generated by an excruciating war with Indigenous people in the cross hairs, as explained by Alison Brysk in her book From Tribal Village to Global Village : “Indians are killed for defending their lands and for begging when displaced, for growing coca and for failing to grow coca, for supporting guerrillas and for failing to support guerrillas, and most of all, for daring to claim the rights Colombia grants but cannot provide.” The casualties include Praba’s family members, some of whom were killed in the war, and others who came close to dying but somehow survived: her mother, who was picked up off the street by a military tank (leading the family to flee the country), or Praba herself, who, when visiting Colombia in 2006, traveled down a road just 15 minutes before bombs detonated, killing everyone along a 1.5 kilometer stretch.

There are over 100 Indigenous groups in Colombia. In a 2009 ruling of the Constitutional Court of Columbia, more than a third of them were identified as “at risk of extermination by the armed conflict and forced displacement.” Indigenous communities in Colombia are disproportionately affected by the country’s internal war: “The parties to the conflict — namely, the Colombian armed forces, ultra-right paramilitary groups, and leftist guerrillas (such as the FARC and ELN) — have all been involved in crimes against Indigenous peoples.” Paramilitaries and armed government forces have committed massacres, assassinations and terrorized populations, engendering displacement. Leftist guerrillas have also played a destructive role, as explained by one of the justices who helped author the Court’s decision:

First, Indigenous-owned territory often serves as the “ideal,” remote place to conduct military operations. Second, parties to the conflict often incorporate Indigenous peoples into the violence through, amongst other things, recruitment, selective murders and use of communities as human shields. Third, resource-rich ancestral lands are threatened by the extractive economic activities related to the conflict, including mining, oil, timber and agribusiness. And fourth, the conflict worsens the pre-existing poverty, ill-health, malnutrition and other socio-economic disadvantages suffered by Indigenous peoples.

Misak leader Pedro Antonio Calambas Cuchillo explains that Indigenous people have little choice about their involvement: “We as Indigenous people have always tried to be separate from the armed groups, both the army and the guerrilla, but often conflicts happen between them, and we are always involved by the guerrillas, specifically the FARC, and by the public force.”

Colombia and other nations in the Southern Hemisphere, and Canada in the Northern Hemisphere, are connected through Canadian mining corporations. On a 2014 trip to Ottawa, sponsored in part by the Assembly of First Nations (a national organization that represents First Nations throughout Canada), Colombian human and Indigenous rights advocates observed that “in their country, Canadian trade and investment is profiting from a ‘genocide’ against Indigenous communities as land is cleared for resource development.” Indigenous peoples in Canada have told the same story.

Defending Land and Water

In the North, Alex emerges from Opaskwayak Cree Nation and the Saskatchewan River Delta. The name Saskatchewan comes from a Cree word, kisiskâciwanisîpiy , meaning “swift-flowing river.” The Saskatchewan River Delta is a 10,000 square kilometer system of rivers, lakes, wetlands and wildlife that acts as a filter, cleaning the water, lands and air in the region. As one of the most biodiverse areas of Canada, it has supported and sustained Indigenous communities for more than 10,000 years through hunting, trapping and fishing.

Traditional Cree knowledge traces their presence on these lands and waters back to both the last ice age and the one that preceded that. Today, the Saskatchewan River Delta is controlled and influenced by several human impacts. These include: the Manitoba Hydro dam in Grand Rapids; the EB Campbell Dam owned by SaskPower; Ducks Unlimited, a private American corporation; and phosphates from farm fertilizers and other contaminants that flow into the delta waterways.

The Cree people of this region have been defending land and waterways in the territory for many generations. Growing up in the north, Alex gathered her first knowledge about water by playing in it, testing the depths of the melt waters in spring by wading in until her boots filled, navigating the ephemeral creeks on homemade rafts in the summer, and creeping carefully out onto the ice following the first winter freeze to see if it was solid enough for skating. As she got older, her understanding of the water increased in complexity. In the Cree language of Alex’s people, the word for water is nipiy . The first syllable in this word, ni , refers to “life” and is also part of the Cree word for me or myself, drawing out the relationships between people and water. The term nipiy also has an alternate meaning: to die or bring death. Water, they understood, is a life or death matter.

The complex system of rivers and lakes in the north that sustained Indigenous people also provided the route for European colonization of their lands. The first significant European presence in the Canadian north were fur traders, who reached that territory by traveling the waterways that Indigenous people lived along. Indigenous people had relied on trapping for survival, harvesting critical resources that fed and clothed their families. They knew where animals in their territories could be found and how to harvest them in ways that would ensure their maintained presence, carefully managing their resources to ensure the sustainability of their way of life, their lands, and waters and the animals and plants who shared their territory.

The fur trade, however, generated profound changes in Indigenous people’s way of life, including a shift from sustainable stewardship of resources to a commodity-based economy and the decimation of critical animal populations. The fur trade also opened the north to missionaries, who brought salvation narratives and a determination to replace our traditional cosmologies, spirituality, lifeways and ethics with Christian constructs and practices.

The fur trade was the first of many damaging resource extraction activities in northern Canada, and the economy of that region now relies primarily on mining, forestry and hydroelectric generation. The Saskatchewan River Delta was altered dramatically by the construction of two large hydroelectric dams in the 1960s. The dams constrict and manipulate the flow of water along the Saskatchewan River, displacing the natural cycles that renew the surrounding lands and sustain wildlife, and generating flooding that has displaced entire Indigenous communities from their lands. Water from the river system is also used for agriculture and as drinking water for the cities and towns that have developed along the waterways. At the same time, agricultural drainage and wastewater from urban centers have introduced fertilizers and other agricultural and industrial chemicals, waste materials and other contaminants into the river system.

In Alex’s homeland of Northern Manitoba, either Manitoba Hydro or Ducks Unlimited now controls the waterways that Indigenous people stewarded for millennia. Alex’s family’s traditional trapline was along the Summerberry Marsh, between Moose Lake and Opaskwayak Cree Nation. Following construction of the dams, their devastating effects were evident throughout the lands and waters they trapped, hunted and harvested in. Settlements and gravesites were flooded. Rivers and lands they had traveled for years became unfamiliar and dangerous. Their connections to and relationships with the land, waters, furbearing animals, migratory birds and plants were disrupted, and it was impossible to maintain traditional ways of life. Trapping quotas (including one that set limits that decreased annually on the number of muskrats her grandfather could harvest) and fishing licenses were introduced, and traditional practices such as controlled burns (a technology to renew the muskrat population in a region) were banned. For Indigenous people, this forced a shift from food sovereignty to food dependency. People were forever changed.

Idle No More

The Indigenous grassroots movement Idle No More emerged in the fall of 2012 as a contemporary iteration of ongoing resistance to colonial violence directed at Indigenous people and the waterways, lands and living things that sustain them. It was started by four women (both Indigenous and non-Indigenous) who felt compelled to take action to affirm Indigenous sovereignty, to protect and care for the land, water, each other and all living creatures, and to address old and new colonial forms of oppression.

The movement began not long after (then) Prime Minister Harper’s assertion at the 2009 G20 summit that Canada has “no history of colonization.” At the time Idle No More was emerging, an estimated 1,000 Indigenous women and girls from across Canada had either gone missing or been murdered, a number the federal government has since acknowledged is much too low, and may be as many as 4,000 women or girls. Idle No More’s emergence also closely followed the federal government introduction of legislation and legislative changes (now passed) that enabled governments and corporations to sidestep responsibilities and obligations that follow from or align with constitutionally and/or legally protected Indigenous rights, treaty-based rights and human rights. These included two omnibus bills with provisions that established procedures that would enable privatization of First Nations lands, replaced the existing Environmental Assessment Act and excepted pipelines and power lines from the Navigable Waters Protection Act, and removed thousands of lakes, rivers, and streams from protection under that same act.

Idle No More began as a series of teach-ins in Saskatchewan on the planned legislative changes, round dances that brought together Indigenous people and our allies in public spaces such as government buildings, malls, or intersections, and, in its first month, a National Day of Action and Solidarity on which rallies and marches to protest the impending legislation were held in cities throughout Canada, drawing anywhere from hundreds to thousands of people to each event. By transforming public spaces into political spaces, it was no longer possible for us to be invisibilized. Those around us could no longer wilfully not see Indigenous people and the issues they were addressing.

Idle No More quickly grew into a global movement focused on Indigenous peoples’ right to sovereignty, our responsibility to protect our people, lands, waterways and other living things from corporate and colonial violence and destruction, and ongoing resistance to neo-colonialism and neoliberalism. These issues lay out a large expanse of common ground and a notable feature of Idle No More has been the extent to which it has worked in solidarity with like-minded organizations and individual allies. Idle No More also operates within a non-hierarchic leadership model that is based on the traditional ethic of relational responsibility. It has reached out (both digitally and physically) to bring people into the circle, to step into leadership by becoming political actors. As Wanda Nanibush, an Idle No More organizer, has observed :

We as Idle No More have put forward the voices of women, the voices of two-spirited people and the voices of youth. This has really galvanized voices that haven’t been part of this thinking or a part of democracy in Canada. Idle No More has been really amazing at raising the question of democracy and how we’re going to run this country, and whose voices are really going to be at the table, to the forefront of all of our struggles… all the struggles do come together under Indigenous rights.

Joining the indigenous resistance

The Kogi, the Wayúu and Idle No More are connected across the Americas through the violence of colonization, through bodies — of land, water, ecosystems, living beings, animals and humans — and through knowledges, ways of being, cosmovisions and resistance. Those who want to join the 500 years of Indigenous resistance can work to release the locks they impose on alliance, by releasing universalized Eurocentric narratives and cosmovision, epistemic violence and salvation narratives.

When Subcomandante Marcos joined with Mayans, he had to rethink his urban Marxist perspective on Indigenous terms. He writes about the experience: “The end result was that we were not talking to an indigenous movement waiting for a savior but with an indigenous movement with a long tradition of struggle, with significant experience, and very intelligent: a movement that was using us as its armed men.”

This essay is a book chapter excerpt from Why Don’t the Poor Rise Up? (AK Press, 2017). All translations of quotations from Spanish by Praba Pilar.

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Further reading

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Indigenous peoples' rights and the politics of the term 'indigenous

2004, Anthropology Today

This article forms part of an ongoing debate on rights and the use of the term ‘indigenous’, which has so far included exchanges in Current Anthropology, the New Humanist, and ANTHROPOLOGY TODAY, as indicated in the bibliography. The authors here respond specifically to an article by Adam Kuper, published in Current Anthropology and the New Humanist. Professor Kuper has been invited to respond and has indicated his intention to do so in the forthcoming issue of ANTHROPOLOGY TODAY. Readers are invited to contribute their own views to the debate. [Ed.]

Related Papers

Karen O'Brien

In considering Indigenous agency this paper explores the challenges to scientific interpretations of Indigenous experience. A powerful critique of scientific interpretations of Indigeneity is presented by Indigenous decolonisation theories that aim to achieve an authentic representation of Indigenous experience. These are examined in the context of the academy, and then, certain philosophical, legal and cultural foundations of human rights are examined alongside the historical development of Indigenous rights within human rights frameworks. An investigation is made of the various Enlightenment discourses that were brought to bear on popular attitudes regarding Indigenous peoples and an exploration is made of those concepts that have contributed to the systematic denials of Indigenous rights in Australia. Finally, it surveys the ways in which such conceptions have influenced western knowledge production and appraises Indigenous life-stories, testimony and art narrative as decolonising method.

This article uses the stalled Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as the impetus for an examination of arguments championing and opposing the framing of Indigenous rights as human rights. Failings both theoretical and practical – in the conceptualisation, promulgation and interpretation of human rights – have long left Aboriginal peoples at a disadvantage. The dual focus of Indigenous claims is unique in the rights lexicon, asserting the right to be simultaneously different from and equal to the majority population. Yet Indigenous rights are often perceived, by governments with the power to block their progress, as a threat to state sovereignty; to the equality of citizens; to national unity; to the sanctity of private property; and to the fostering of a free-market economy. A concerted effort to broaden existing conceptions and frameworks to include not only group rights, but those specific rights essential to Aboriginal collectivities, is imperative to the survival of Native peoples as peoples. Additionally it has much to offer the discourse of human rights itself.

Damien Short

International Community Law Review

Indigenous peoples experience three levels of injustice: they are the trans-generational victims of historic colonisation; they are politically disenfranchised and their cultural diversity is not officially recognized. Indigenous peoples struggle for the recognition of their specific rights in order to overcome the injustice they are currently experiencing. This article explains how the recognition of these rights conflicts with some of the basic principles of modern constitutional democracy: the declared equality of all citizens; the legitimization of the state for the common good of all and the legal fiction of one homogenous people making up the state.

peter evans

Human Rights and social justice for indigenous cultures are important concepts. How are these concepts to be relevant within this paper? Whereby I imply that all individuals and cultures, but specifically indigenous cultures, have the human right, to attain social justice, via self-determination and connection to land / place concepts. In this essay I will elaborate on the above suggestion I have made, by using a photovoice essay format and examine my claims, via a comparative analysis process, incorporating evidence and literature review processes.

Jennifer Lawson

A substantial segment of an essay produced in preparation for an invited lecture on indigenous issues and global justice at Stetson University. (2009)

Teresa Nichols

Undergraduate honors thesis, completed in 2009 In 2007, the United Nations adopted a landmark resolution for indigenous issues, the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. After twenty years of preparation, there were, however, still problems. Four countries with significant indigenous populations declined to sign: the United States of America, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. All four refused to do so over the contentious issue of land claims and some uncertainty about the definition of 'indigenous'. Examining these national systems for land claims and national museums through an anthropological perspective will help identify central issues in indigenous relations. All four nations recognize a form of indigenous land rights, but their infrastructure for recognizing and redressing these rights is often problematic. The Declaration is an important step toward finding solutions to disputes with indigenous peoples, especially now when in a globalized world multiple threats confront these groups. These four nations have a significant influence on how indigenous issues are being dealt with internationally, and without their support this declaration will be unable to make a real difference. Understanding the differences in evidentiary standards among the four nations will help suggest ways in which anthropological research can better work to support indigenous rights and actualize the aspirations of the Declaration.

Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies

Claudio Fuentes

The demands of indigenous peoples pose radical questions about how we understand the capitalist mode of production, socio-cultural relations and the distribution of political power within a state. ...

Ulia Gosart (Popova)

Santa Clara Journal of International Law

Cosmas Emeziem

It has become an annual ritual for the world—especially through the United Nations (UN)—to organize events and activities celebrating Indigenous Peoples. Further to this disposition, the UN has adopted a Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Equally, it is now fashionable to include the needs, and questions, affecting indigenous peoples in our development programs and climate action activities—albeit sometimes as an addendum to the mainstream policies. The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), and the current prominence of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), and decolonialization language in international policy briefs, give further credence to this apparent commitment to the rights of indigenous and othered communities. The recently concluded UN Climate Action Conference in Scotland (C0P26) also voiced out some of the concerns of indigenous communities. Beyond these Conventions, Treaties, Declarations, and good faith statements, about the rights of indigenous/othered communities, it is imperative to articulate a set of principles, that can ensure that these apparent commitments do not become miserable comforts to indigenous and othered communities. Such principles can be implemented as best practices, and therefore sharpen the blunt edges of liberal international human rights. More so, such will enhance the pedagogies regarding the rights of indigenous peoples using Critical Race Theory (CRT) and Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) because indigenous people are often the racialized other, and also part of the “third world.” Thus, this essay highlights the possibilities that CRT and TWAIL can bring to the paradigms and proposes a ten-principle approach through which we can (re)invigorate these conventions, treaties, and declarations; thereby enhancing the human rights of indigenous/othered communities.

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• HISTORY & CULTURE

What does the future look like in Indigenous hands?

National Geographic Explorer Keolu Fox says the key to harnessing the technology of tomorrow is centering traditions of the past.

Water and wealth are constructed from the same word in Hawaiian. These terms— wai and waiwai, respectively—are an indelible part of who I am, and who Native Hawaiians are. They’re reminders that we’ve always valued the abundant natural beauty and life-giving resources of our homelands. There is perhaps no better example of this than ahupua‘a land divisions, a socio-economic and geological system that Hawaiian communities designed more than a thousand years ago to apportion the islands into seasonally responsive slices that ran from the mountains to the sea. These land divisions fed snowmelt along irrigation routes to terraced taro patches. They provided valuable bacteria and phytonutrients to fishponds. Those fish then populated the inner reefs and, once mature, the Pacific Ocean. The system itself was highly organized and politically complex. It supported a huge labor force and provided a sustainable supply of food for the entire population.

( Discover the ahupua‘a system in our interactive story. )

Across the world, Indigenous communities have long been incubators of sustainable systems. Pueblo and other Native architects developed ingenious multistory housing uniquely crafted for the deserts of North America. Aboriginal communities in Australia perfected the ecologically enriching land management practice known as cultural burning . These systems, like our land divisions, reflect a union of the local culture and environment, one that keeps the needs of a community and the planet in balance.

( Aboriginal women are reclaiming their relationship with cultural fire. )

As we all strive to imagine the future, the inevitability of extractive capitalism should not be assumed. Rather, it’s important to think deeply about how to build an alternative reality—one where Indigenous perspectives on relationships to land, sea, sky, and cosmos are the guiding force. We should all ask, What would our planet look like in Indigenous hands?

Charting an Indigenous future will require a shift in our consciousness. We can optimize landscapes for exponential growth, profit, and, eventually, failure, or we can optimize for harmony and balance. To quote an ancient Hawaiian chief, “He ali‘i ka ‘āina, the land is a chief; he kauwā ke kanaka, humans are its servants.”

Rather than focus on short-term gains, we must prioritize future generations.

I once stumbled upon an elder balancing the books of a casino in the Pacific Northwest. I was surprised to find that this gentleman was not using a model based on quarterly, or even annual, returns; his spreadsheet’s financial plan extended 10 generations into the future.

Over the past several decades, Indigenous communities have seen various economic drivers come and go, from natural resource extraction—oil, gas, and coal—to gaming and casinos. It’s clear that data is next. Is there a more valuable resource today on the planet?

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To be in control of their assets, Indigenous peoples should build their own data centers—but in such a way that they would be not only sovereign but also sustainable, in harmony and balance with nature. Rather than follow the example of titan chipmaker TSMC, which chose the sweltering expanses of Phoenix for two planned factories, we could situate these critical infrastructures in cool climates abundant in natural water resources and reduce the energy consumption needed to keep them from overheating. Companies and countries too should think beyond tax incentives and weak labor markets when deciding where data centers should be built. Indigenous communities might offer their own examples for the design and implementation of these centers, powered by renewable energy sources that respect the Earth’s rhythms and acknowledge that resources aren’t just resources—they’re ancestors.

( Deb Haaland: A new era of partnership between tribal nations and the federal government )

To realize a world that revolves around these shared values, all of us must think further into the future.

Imagine Indigenous scientists using the tools of synthetic biology to heal the Earth by genome-editing bacteria to metabolize plastic in the ocean into biofuel . Gaping holes left festering from the violent pursuit of critical minerals, such as lithium , cobalt , and tantalum , are remediated and transformed into pristine freshwater aquifers—poison sucked out like a snakebite. Imagine storing data in the genomes of indigenous photosynthesizing plants , an idea that already is more science than fiction: In 2017 researchers announced that they had used the gene-editing system Crispr to encode a digital movie into the DNA of a population of E. coli bacteria. Imagine the roots of these carbon-negative “data centers” simultaneously encouraging biodiversity, treating soil that has been polluted for centuries, and providing fruits and vegetables for local farmers to sell.

Rather than cities all converging on the same look of Ikea-brochure apartments and placeless, copy-and-paste office towers, our built environment might reflect local innovation, heritage, and culture. Imagine that homes are once again living ancestors: Ancient, local soil is repurposed into bio-concrete infused with genome-editing bacteria that seal cracks by calcifying into new limestone. Imagine building materials with photosynthetic properties that draw energy from the sun, or bioluminescence that might dim our harsh, urban glare and restore the view of the night sky our people once knew. Imagine 3D-printing urban structures into ancient shapes, like the tangled, twisting, living bridges that the Khasi and Jaintia people in India wove from the roots of trees.

One vision of Indigenous futurism is alternative history. A time line where Captain Cook never makes it to Hawai‘i, Cortés never arrives at Tenochtitlan in search of gold, and the Niña, Pinta, and Santa María are still trees planted in the earth. Where would Indigenous peoples be? What would they have become? But there’s another time line we should consider—one that doesn’t require us to change the past, just the future: Land and ancestors returned. Cities and rural landscapes where technology and nature coexist. Community networks thriving on decentralized digital platforms that empower local decision-making and facilitate a barter-based economy rooted in shared resources and knowledge. Matriarchy restored . Education systems that immerse students in Indigenous histories and cultures, fostering a global citizenship that respects and celebrates both the ancient and the futuristic.

Charting this Indigenous future—shifting our consciousness—will mean adopting a shared vision where the wisdom of the past guides us for generations to come. One where technology serves humanity’s deepest values and aspirations. Where the guardianship of the Earth and the equitable distribution of its resources define progress.

( This Hawaiian geneticist works to empower Indigenous peoples. )

Related Topics

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• ANCIENT HISTORY
• ENVIRONMENT AND CONSERVATION
• INDIGENOUS PEOPLES

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The First Nations, Métis and Inuit have long used their own words to name their people and territories. Contemporary researchers strive to be respectful and use this terminology when referring to Indigenous peoples. However there have been times when authors have referred to Indigenous peoples using words that were inappropriate and/or disrespectful. You may encounter these words when you do assignment research.

When selecting words to use in a database search, you may need to use both old and new terminology, as well as general and specific words to find relevant material. Here are a few examples:

General terms : Indigenous, Aboriginal, First Nations, Inuit, Métis, Native, First Peoples, Indian

Specific terms : Mi’kmaq, MicMac, Montagnais, Haudenosaunee, Iroquois, Ojibwe, Ojibway, Anishinaabe, Cree, Dene, Athapaska, Haisla, Sto:lo

Database search example:  (Mi’kmaq OR Mi’kmaw OR MicMac) AND treaty

• Indigenous History – A Bibliography by Shekon Neechie A bibliography of Indigenous-authored history articles - compiled by Indigenous historians.
• Bibliography of Indigenous Peoples in North America This link opens in a new window BNNA covers all aspects of native North American culture, history, and life. It includes citations for books, essays, journal articles, and government documents of the United States and Canada, published from 16th century to the present (from HRAF).
• First Nations Periodical Index
• America: History & Life This link opens in a new window Key database for North American history. Includes articles, books & dissertations on the history of Canada & the United States from pre-historic times to the present.
• AnthroSource This link opens in a new window Key database for peer-reviewed articles in anthropology.
• Sociological Abstracts This link opens in a new window Key database for Sociology covering anthropology, economics, education, medicine, community development, philosophy, demography, political science, and social psychology. Includes references to journal articles, conference papers, dissertations, books, and book reviews.
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• Canadian Journal of Native Studies (2005 to present)
• Canadian Journal of Native Studies (1981 - 2005) - free online
• AlterNative: An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples
• American Indian Culture and Research Journal
• Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society
• Canadian Historical Review
• Recherches Amérindiennes au Québec
• American Indian Quarterly
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• Études Inuit = Inuit Studies
• International Journal of Indigenous Health
• How to Search a ProQuest database (5 min. video) ProQuest databases include CBCA, PAIS, ERIC and Sociological Abstracts.

• Critically Analyzing Information Sources Wondering how to tell whether a book or article is scholarly? Here are a few tips from Cornell University Libraries.
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Home — Essay Samples — Sociology — Race and Ethnicity — Indigenous People

Essays on Indigenous People

The choice of indigenous people essay topics.

Writing an essay about Indigenous People is an important and relevant topic in today's society. It provides an opportunity to explore the history, culture, and issues faced by Indigenous communities. Choosing the right topic is crucial to produce a well-researched and compelling essay.

Indigenous People have a rich and diverse history that is often overlooked or misrepresented. By writing about Indigenous People, you can shed light on their experiences, challenges, and contributions to society. It is also a chance to address social justice issues and promote understanding and respect for Indigenous cultures.

When selecting a topic, it's essential to consider your interests, the relevance of the issue, and the availability of credible sources. You should also choose a topic that allows you to present a balanced perspective and engage in critical analysis.

Recommended Indigenous People Essay Topics

History and culture.

• The impact of colonization on Indigenous communities
• Traditional Indigenous art forms and their significance
• The role of Indigenous women in their communities
• The preservation of Indigenous languages
• The history of Indigenous resistance movements

Social Issues

• Indigenous land rights and environmental conservation
• Indigenous representation in the media
• The effects of government policies on Indigenous communities
• Indigenous education and access to resources
• Health disparities among Indigenous People

Contemporary Challenges

• The impact of climate change on Indigenous communities
• Indigenous activism and advocacy for rights
• The role of Indigenous knowledge in addressing global challenges
• The effects of urbanization on Indigenous cultures
• The intersection of Indigenous identity and modernity

Land and Resources

• The impact of environmental degradation on indigenous communities
• Indigenous land rights and the struggle for sovereignty
• The role of indigenous knowledge in sustainable resource management
• The impact of mining and resource extraction on indigenous lands

Health and Well-being

• The disparities in healthcare access and outcomes for indigenous communities
• The impact of historical trauma on indigenous mental health
• The role of traditional healing practices in indigenous communities
• The impact of substance abuse on indigenous populations

Education and Representation

• The portrayal of indigenous peoples in the media and popular culture
• The challenges and opportunities in indigenous education
• The impact of cultural appropriation on indigenous communities
• The importance of indigenous representation in leadership and governance

Legal and Political Issues

• The impact of colonial legal systems on indigenous communities
• The struggle for recognition and rights for indigenous LGBTQ+ individuals
• The impact of government policies on indigenous communities
• The role of indigenous sovereignty in contemporary political debates

These essay topics provide a starting point for exploring the diverse issues related to Indigenous People. It's important to approach these topics with sensitivity, respect, and a willingness to listen to Indigenous voices. By choosing a relevant and meaningful topic, you can contribute to the ongoing dialogue about Indigenous rights and representation.

The Yanomamo Summary

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Essay on Indigenous Peoples In The Philippines

Students are often asked to write an essay on Indigenous Peoples In The Philippines in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

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100 Words Essay on Indigenous Peoples In The Philippines

Who are indigenous peoples.

Indigenous peoples are the first people to live in a place. In the Philippines, they have their own cultures, languages, and traditions. They live in mountains, forests, and islands. They are also called “Lumad” and “Igorot” among other names.

Where They Live

Many indigenous groups in the Philippines live in Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. They stay in remote areas, which helps them keep their old ways of life. Their homes are often far from cities and hard to reach.

Their Way of Life

These peoples farm, hunt, and fish for food. They respect nature and believe in spirits. They also have colorful clothes, dances, and music that show their culture.

Challenges They Face

Indigenous peoples have problems like losing their land and not having enough rights. Some people don’t respect their way of life, and they struggle to keep their traditions alive.

Protecting Their Rights

250 words essay on indigenous peoples in the philippines.

In the Philippines, indigenous peoples are groups of people who have lived in the country for a very long time, even before others came to the islands. They have their own ways of life, languages, and traditions that are different from the rest of the population.

Where Do They Live?

These native groups live in various parts of the Philippines, from the mountains of Luzon to the islands of Mindanao. Some live in forests, while others are by the sea. Each group has learned to live well in their special home environment.

Their Culture and Traditions

Indigenous peoples in the Philippines have rich cultures. They celebrate unique festivals, have their own music, dances, and clothes. They also have special skills in weaving, carving, and making houses that fit their lifestyle. Their beliefs and stories are passed down from old to young, keeping their history alive.

Sadly, these groups often face tough times. Their lands are sometimes taken away for business or other people’s use, which makes it hard for them to live as they always have. They also struggle to keep their culture strong while the world around them changes quickly.

Why They Are Important

Indigenous peoples are very important because they teach us about different ways of living and thinking. Their knowledge of nature and how to care for it is valuable for everyone. It is important to respect and protect their rights so they can continue their way of life and share their wisdom with all of us.

500 Words Essay on Indigenous Peoples In The Philippines

Who are the indigenous peoples in the philippines.

These Indigenous Peoples live in various parts of the Philippines. Some live in the mountains, some by the seas, and others in forests. They are spread out over the islands, with many living in places like Luzon, Mindanao, and the Visayas. Each group has its own special place where they have lived for many generations.

Their Cultures and Traditions

The cultures of these Indigenous Peoples are rich and colorful. They have special dances, music, and clothes that show who they are. They celebrate festivals that honor their gods, the earth, and important events in their lives. Their stories and art are passed down from old to young, keeping their history alive.

How They Take Care of the Environment

Even though they have been in the Philippines for a long time, these groups face many problems. Sometimes, other people want to use the land where they live for building or for getting resources like minerals. This can make it hard for Indigenous Peoples to keep living their traditional way. They also sometimes struggle to get the same education and healthcare that other Filipinos have.

How They Are Protected

The government of the Philippines knows these problems and has made laws to protect Indigenous Peoples. One important law is called the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act. This law helps make sure that their rights to their land and their way of life are respected. It also says that they should have a say in decisions that affect them.

Their Role in Society

In conclusion, the Indigenous Peoples in the Philippines are a vital part of the country’s heart and soul. Their presence enriches Filipino culture, and their knowledge of the environment is invaluable. It’s important for everyone, especially young students, to learn about these groups and to appreciate their contributions to the nation’s heritage. By understanding and respecting Indigenous Peoples, we can all help to make sure their cultures and traditions thrive for many more years to come.

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Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline Essay (Critical Writing)

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Introduction

Detailed explanation of the moral issue, main argument on indigenous rights, main argument on duties of businesses, response to criticisms.

Bibliography

Settler colonialism remains a major challenge that continues to erase the political, economic, cultural, and social aspects of many indigenous people. This is the sad reality despite the fact that various laws and regulations have been presented to protect more minority and indigenous groups from every form of abuse. The United States (U.S.) settler disruption is a critical issue that should be reexamined in order to understand the major challenges associated with environmental sustainability and climate change. 1 This paper uses the case of Dakota Access Pipeline to describe how settler injustice threatens the rights of indigenous people in the United States and beyond. 2 The discussion supports the use of powerful movements and legal frameworks to ensure the ethical and moral concerns affecting these underserved populations are addressed. The presented discussion will be supported using several texts such as Shue’s “Basic Rights” and the United Nation’s Declaration on Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

The article “The Dakota Access Pipeline, and Environmental Injustice, and U.S. Colonialism” gives a detailed analysis of the major issues affecting many ingenious populations in Dakota and Lakota. To begin with, the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) is a project intended to offer cheap transportation for oil and gas. Although it is indicated that the pipeline meets the required environmental and safety standards, the agreeable truth is that it is a major threat to the moral rights of the affected people. This is the case because it will pose numerous risks to the quality of water in Dakota and destroy the people’s cultural heritage. 3 The current construction, according to the article, has destroyed ancestral sites, burial places, and cultural heritages.

Shue indicates clearly that every organization and government has a role to fulfill the basic rights of every person. The tasks undertaken by the government should fulfill the rights of every indigenous or subsistence population. This should be achieved by preventing deprivation. Duty should be enforced while at the same time creating strong institutions to support the needs of the people. 4 That being the case, the DAPL project appears to ignore the rights of the people. For instance, their cultural values, burial sites, and natural resources appear to be threatened by the project. Similarly, the UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Ingenious Peoples goes further to explain why the rights of indigenous people must be taken seriously than ever before. For instance, Article 2 stipulates that indigenous persons should be free from any form of discrimination. They should be allowed to embrace and appreciate their indigenous identities and origins. In Article 5, it is clearly indicated that such people should be allowed to exercise their cultural, legal, and political values. Their cultural institutions must be respected while at the same time empowering them to participate in their unique traditional and social rituals. This information shows conclusively that the moral liberties and cultural freedoms of the indigenous people of Lakota and Dakota are at stake.

The UN presents specific laws and provisions that support the moral rights of indigenous and underserved populations. The concept of moral obligation is a rule that dictates what is forbidden or permitted in a given society. 5 The consequences of actions should also be considered whenever determining whatever amounts to a moral obligation. This fact explains why the actions undertaken by governments, corporations, and other people should be informed by the rights of the greatest number of people.

The case of the DAPL therefore reveals a number of moral rights possessed by the affected citizens. For instance, it is evident that the construction project has led to the excavation of cultural sites and ancient burial places. Such sites should be safeguarded and protected because they support the cultural values and beliefs of these indigenous people. The people are also bona-fide residents of the affected regions. That being the case, their moral rights include access to clean water, safe environment, and cultural protection. 6 These moral rights should be taken seriously if the liberties of more indigenous people are to be protected.

Corporations and business entities have a huge obligation to ensure the rights of every underserved person are safeguarded. To begin with, businesses should focus on the unique provisions and rights of every indigenous population. For instance, it is appropriate to engage in ethical business practices that do not undermine the cultural values, pinions, practices, and religious beliefs of indigenous people. 7 This approach will ensure every business agenda is aimed at safeguarding the welfare of these people.

It is agreeable that businesses and firms are mandated to fulfill the basic rights of subsistence populations. They can achieve this goal by completing various obligations or duties. The first duty is to protect indigenous populations from every form of deprivation. It is also necessary to design powerful institutions that can prevent the implementation of specific incentives that violate the rights of such populations. They should go further to embrace the concept of corporate social responsibility (CSR). This kind of practice is necessary because it guides corporations and business entities to undertake various actions that promote the moral rights, freedoms, and liberties of every underserved population. By so doing, such business will provide aid to the deprived members of the society. Some of these beneficiaries include individuals who are affected by natural disasters or social failures that emerge whenever promoting various human services.

This knowledge explains why the major stakeholders in the DAPL have moral duties to protect the people of Lakota and Dakota. For instance, the Energy Transfer Partners (ETP) and the Army Corps of Engineers (ACE) should have collaborated in order to assess the environmental, social, and cultural issues that might emerge throughout the project period. 8 They should have also consulted different community members in order to safeguard the rights of the indigenous persons. The companies should have also outlined the best strategies that can be undertaken in order to ensure the burial sites are not interfered with. The use of CSR would have led to adequate solutions to address the problems affecting these indigenous people. 9 The government should have also embraced the best measures in order to ensure the freedoms, natural resources, cultural aspects, and moral values of the people were addressed.

The above discussion shows conclusively that corporations have a moral obligation to protect the rights, freedoms, and cultural values of indigenous populations. This is also in accordance with the provisions of the United Nations. 10 However, the case of the DAPL can be examined from a different perspective. For instance, some economists and experts might argue that the people in Dakota and across the country are in need of cheaper transportation methods. The completed project will have the potential to support the needs of the greatest number of people in the United States.

The concept of utilitarianism goes further to indicate that actions should be informed by their outcomes. This means that a specific action that promotes happiness for the greatest number of citizens should be considered ethical. This ethical theory will therefore be used by individuals who want to support the DAPL project. The proponents will go further to argue that the greatest number of citizens will be able to access cheaper gas and eventually lead better lives. 11

Unfortunately, this notion is detestable because it does more harm to more indigenous people in Lakota and Dakota. This critic and reasoning is wrong because it might affect the experiences of more people in Dakota. The decision is also against the United Nation’s Declaration on Rights of Indigenous Peoples. This analysis explains why the DAPL project is erroneous and fails to fulfill the moral rights or needs of the affected Dakotans. 12

Indigenous people have unique rights that must be respected by businesses, governments, and social institutions. The DAPL project appears to disregard the moral rights, cultural values, and traditions of the people of Dakota and Lakota. That being the case, it is appropriate for the involved stakeholders to consider the unique rights of the indigenous people before continuing with the project. 13 Although some people might use the concept utilitarianism to support the benefits associated with DAPL project, the agreeable affect is that the idea does not safeguard the rights of the affected people. The concerned parties should therefore embrace the best initiatives in order to meet the ethical and moral rights of these underserved people.

Gordon, Sue. Recognition and Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Cengage: Cengage Learning, 2014.

Jeffrey, Renee. Reason and Emotion in International Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014.

Mitchell, Terry, and Charis Enns. “The UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: Monitoring and Realizing Indigenous Rights in Canada.” CIGI 39 (2014): 1-12.

Short, Damien, and Corinne Lennox. Handbook of Indigenous Peoples’ Rights. New York: Routledge, 2016.

Shue, Henry. Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and U.S. Foreign Policy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996.

Westra, Laura. Environmental Justice and the Rights of Indigenous People. London: Earthscan, 2012.

Whyte, Kyle. “The Dakota Access Pipeline, Environmental Injustice, and U.S. Colonialism.” An International Journal of Indigenous Literature, Arts, & Humanities 1 (2017): 1-12.

• Kyle Whyte, “The Dakota Access Pipeline, Environmental Injustice, and U.S. Colonialism,” An International Journal of Indigenous Literature, Arts, & Humanities 1 (2017): 2.
• Damien Short and Corinne Lennox, Handbook of Indigenous Peoples’ Rights (New York: Routledge, 2016), 26.
• Henry Shue, Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and U.S. Foreign Policy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 37.
• Sue Gordon, Recognition and Rights of Indigenous Peoples (Cengage: Cengage Learning, 2014), 59.
• Terry Mitchell and Charis Enns, “The UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: Monitoring and Realizing Indigenous Rights in Canada,” CIGI 39 (2014): 2.
• Laura Westra, Environmental Justice and the Rights of Indigenous People (London: Earthscan, 2012), 54.
• Renee Jeffrey, Reason and Emotion in International Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 68.
• Gordon, Recognition and Rights , 76.
• Shue, Basic Rights , 43.
• Jeffrey, Reason and Emotion , 86.
• Russell Means: Activist for American Indian Rights
• "Lakota Woman" Memoir by M. C. Dog and R. Erdoes
• A Hepatitis Incident in North Dakota
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IvyPanda. (2020, November 10). Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline. https://ivypanda.com/essays/indigenous-peoples-rights-and-dakota-access-pipeline/

"Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline." IvyPanda , 10 Nov. 2020, ivypanda.com/essays/indigenous-peoples-rights-and-dakota-access-pipeline/.

IvyPanda . (2020) 'Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline'. 10 November.

IvyPanda . 2020. "Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline." November 10, 2020. https://ivypanda.com/essays/indigenous-peoples-rights-and-dakota-access-pipeline/.

1. IvyPanda . "Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline." November 10, 2020. https://ivypanda.com/essays/indigenous-peoples-rights-and-dakota-access-pipeline/.

IvyPanda . "Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Dakota Access Pipeline." November 10, 2020. https://ivypanda.com/essays/indigenous-peoples-rights-and-dakota-access-pipeline/.

Indigenous Peoples of the World Listed by Region and Country

This directory of the world's indigenous peoples contains photo-ethnographic essays listed by the regions and countries where they presently live. Some people are not indigenous to every country where they presently live. We include those countries for completeness.

• The Yucatec People
• The Maleku People
• The Ixil People
• The Kiche People
• The Poqomchi' People
• The Tz'utujil People
• The Kaqchikel People
• The Lahu People
• The Hmong People
• The Akha People
• The Wa People
• The Lisu People
• The Palaung People
• The Mien People
• The Shan People
• The Afar People
• The Tzeltal People
• The Tzotzil People
• The Mnong People
• The Koho People
• The Ede People
• The Cherokee People
• The Toba People
• The Quichua People
• The Cocama People
• The Huaorani People
• The Chenchu People
• The Koya People
• The Samantha People
• The Baiga People
• The Bhil People
• The Karen People
• The Intha People
• The Tampuan People
• The Kreung People
• The Karo Batak People
• The Bajau People
• The Aeta People
• The Juhoansi People
• The Chewa People
• The Mandinka People
• The Jola People
• The Dogon People

© The Peoples of the World Foundation and individual contributors, 1999 - 2024. All rights reserved.

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It’s the longest bridge ever built in Peru, and so far, it goes nowhere

(AP Video/Rodrigo Abd)

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SUCUSARI, Peru (AP) — It is the longest bridge ever built in Peru, a massive structure of cement and iron spanning the Nanay River as it connects to untouched areas of the Peruvian Amazon

So far, it goes nowhere.

The bridge is part of a federal highway project to connect Iquitos, in Peru’s northeast, to the El Estrecho district on the Colombian border, in total some 188 kilometers (117 miles). It faces mounting opposition from Indigenous tribes who fear that the construction will lead to land grabbing, deforestation and drug trafficking, which have plagued similar projects across the world´s largest rainforest.

Vendors set up food stands under a bridge that is part of a federal highway project that extends over the Nanay River, in Iquitos, Peru, May 27, 2024. (AP Photo/Rodrigo Abd)

“The highway will kill us,” Everest Ochoa, a member of the Maijuna indigenous group that lives in the Peruvian Amazon, told The Associated Press. “We have to stop this project for the sake of our children, to protect the land for them.”

Construction work is at a standstill as the government conducts a study of the area, but the Ministry of Transportation has already built the country’s largest bridge, which extends 2.3 kilometers (1.4 miles) over the Nanay River, a tributary of the Amazon River.

Indigenous leaders say the communities along the highway route have not been consulted.

“The government didn’t ask us anything about the highway passing through our territory and we want our rights to be respected”, said community leader Artur Francis Cruz Ochoa.

His community, Centro Arenal, is next to the bridge and has already suffered, he said. “Drugs have already started to infiltrate our community, young people are already consuming them. With the construction of the highway, it will get worse.”

In the village of Sucusari, also near the future path of the road, people echo the same fears. It is a community of thatched houses, where the 180 inhabitants live a traditional lifestyle, fishing, hunting and growing fruit for local markets, mostly aguaje, an Amazon delicacy.

Muruis push a cargo tricycle stuck in the mud on the proposed path of a federal highway to be built from Iquitos to El Estrecho district, Centro Arenal, Peru, May 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Rodrigo Abd)

Maijuna youth Segundo Jeinsen bathes in a stream in Sucusari, Peru, May 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Rodrigo Abd)

“We will lose land, animals, fish, the water will be contaminated, and the forest. If the forest is lost, we won’t have water. We won’t have life without water,” said Sebastian Rios Ochoa. “With the highway, the abundance we have now will end.”

In a written message to AP, the Ministry of Transportation said the project’s objective is to connect people along the path and promote local economies, strengthen trade and help bring security to border areas.

The ministry said the construction of the bridge is considered an infrastructure project for public services and, as such, is not required to undergo prior consultation with the Indigenous tribes, according to Peru’s legislation.

The Iquitos-El Estrecho is the largest and most expensive highway construction in Peru’s Amazon, according to a recent report by Peruvian Society of Environmental Law, a nonprofit. The report says there has already been land-grabbing and deforestation in Indigenous lands.

The highway will cross two protected areas, Maijuna Kichwa and Ampiyacu Apayacu, which cover about 8,000 square kilometers (3,000 square miles) of old-growth forest, according to the report.

Zoila Ochoa Garay, 58, cries inconsolably when she speaks about her community of Centro Arenal, where the first stretch of the highway begins.

“Since this highway project began, people have been invading our community’s land,” she said. “There is no justice here.”

Murui woman Zoila Ochoa Garay cries as she tells a member of the OnePlanet NGO team about the threats her family has received from land invaders that she believes is due to the construction of a new federal highway that crosses their communal territories, in Nuevo Arenal, Peru, May 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Rodrigo Abd)

Fabiano Maisonnave in Brasilandia, Brazil, contributed to this report.

The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org .

StarTribune

Twin cities farmers markets owned and operated by people of color offer food, culture, community.

For Destiny Jones, an Indigenous-owned farmers market is key to preserving cultural traditions — especially in a city, she says, that can sometimes be hostile and isolating to the community.

"It's really exciting to be at the market, and to see all of these people that know each other or meeting up and looking around together," Jones said.

She operates the Four Sisters Farmers Market in Minneapolis' East Phillips neighborhood, which aims to preserve Indigenous traditions with Native vendors selling goods such as traditional pine cone jelly, jewelry and fresh fruits and vegetables.

While the market caters to Indigenous people, Jones also wants it to serve as an educational opportunity for others.

"When you're working with Indigenous spaces, there are people that may already know what Ojibwe art looks like in comparison to Dakota art," Jones said. "Vendors have to be prepared to answer those questions and facilitate a conversation."

"People wanted to see each other, say hi to each other and really connect with folks even if people aren't there for a market event," said Mo Hanson, director of the Midtown Farmers Market.

The Midtown market, founded by the Corcoran Neighborhood Organization, wants to make food accessible for the community, Hanson said. It's located near the Lake Street/Midtown light-rail station in Minneapolis, which provides visibility and accessibility in an area experiencing high rates of poverty. "We need a space that has alternative pricing and modes of commerce," she said.

Hanson said a person-centered approach to food access is an important part of the market's philosophy, which encourages customers to interact with vendors and neighbors.

"We invite people to come take a load off, and hang out and share space with their neighbor," Hanson said. "That's not something you get from a store that's based off of purely commerce."

The market serves as a space for people who may not feel comfortable going to a grocery store due to accessibility needs or other factors, she said.

"We are really filling in a space for folks that have sensory needs that are not accommodated in a big box store," Hanson said. "We try to fill in every niche we can for our community members because food is necessary for survival."

One way the market makes food accessible is through the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program Electronic Benefits Transfer (SNAP EBT) matching program. The market provides monetary assistance for people to purchase food, said Macy-Chau Tran, program and communications director for the Midtown Farmers Market. For example, if someone spends $10 of their SNAP EBT benefits at the market, they will receive $20 from the market for additional purchases there.

The SNAP program, also known as food stamps, is run by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and provides people from low-income backgrounds a debit card preloaded with a set amount of funds to purchase nutritious food. In 2006, the Midtown farmers market became the first in Minnesota to accept SNAP EBT, Tran said.

The Midtown market vets vendors based on their needs and motivations, Hanson said. "We, like many other markets, are hoping for a well-rounded space with many different options," she said.

Four Sisters Farmers Market was launched in 2014 by the Native American Community Development Institute to educate residents about the Indigenous community.

"We make sure that early entrepreneurs have space to get their businesses off the ground by facilitating a space at the market and helping them connect with resources that can help them further their business," Jones said.

DeVon Nolen manages the People's Market in north Minneapolis, a Black-owned market that kicked off its second season on June 22. Nolen said her previous job as a food justice consultant with the Northside Fresh Coalition helped her understand the issues surrounding food insecurity on the North Side, including a lack of access to grocery stores after Walgreens and Aldi closed locations last year and Walmart closed a store in nearby Brooklyn Center.

"It is structural and institutional racism," Nolen said. "There's a long history of divestment and disinvestment in north Minneapolis. It wasn't that these stores weren't profitable, it wasn't that there was so much theft. Gentrification is already happening. You collapse the food markets, the schools, and the community is no longer in value and then the businesses leave."

After losing the three stores, Nolen felt compelled to provide food access to people in the area, so she founded the People's Market. She hopes it will rewrite narratives that others have about the Black community.

"My goal is to always serve the invisible people, because there is a lot of classism and elitism that happens in our city, and I'm a victim of it," Nolen said. "We really don't have a place in Minneapolis to celebrate our culture."

About the partnership

This story comes to you from Sahan Journal , a nonprofit newsroom dedicated to covering Minnesota's immigrants and communities of color. Sign up for a free newsletter to receive Sahan's stories in your inbox.

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Indigenous tribes welcome rare white buffalo calf in Yellowstone ceremony

WEST YELLOWSTONE, Mont. — Sage burned on the banks of Hebgen Lake as Indigenous tribal leaders marched in procession Wednesday morning to honor the birth of a white buffalo calf .

They sang songs and danced in a sacred ceremony under cloudy skies as hundreds of onlookers watched in silence.

The rare white calf’s arrival this month in Yellowstone National Park signaled, under tribal lore, both a blessing and a warning to the world.

“Mother Earth is sick and has a fever,” said Chief Arvol Looking Horse, spiritual leader of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota Oyate, known as the Great Sioux Nation. “It is the fulfillment of our prophecy.”

The young buffalo, which tribal leaders named Wakan Gli, or Sacred Return, was presumably in the wilderness with its mother during the ceremony near Yellowstone National Park.Its birth is seen as the second coming of the White Buffalo Calf Woman, who first appeared to the Lakota thousands of years ago when the buffalo were scarce and the people were hungry.

She taught the Lakota how to pray and honor the Earth through ceremony and promised to return one day in the guise of a white bison calf with black eyes, nose and hooves.

“I shall return to stand upon the Earth when nothing is good,” she told the Lakota people, Looking Horse said. “Her message speaks out loud and clear right now."

Preservationist and tribal advocate Devin Old Man said the white calf comes at a time of great peril for people everywhere, especially tribes that are increasingly isolated from one another and the world around them. “It’s hard to be a Native these days,” he said. “We have to look at the bigger picture.” 

Bison have long held a near-mythic status in the U.S., even outside tribal culture. They were declared the first national mammal in 2016 when President Barack Obama signed the National Bison Legacy Act.

Every year, millions of tourists visit Yellowstone National Park to catch a glimpse of the majestic animals, which were once hunted nearly to extinction.

Their numbers dwindled dramatically throughout the 19th century, but the population is slowly rebounding through conservation efforts.

In Montana, however, buffalo face a number of constraints that threaten them despite their popularity.They are not allowed to roam outside designated areas, including on private land without the authorization of the landowner. Last year, a harsh winter storm drove nearly 2,000 buffalo out of the park and into lower elevations. They were killed or transferred out of the area.

“These are the last remnants of the 30 to 60 million that were once on the continent,” said Mike Mease, a co-founder of the conservation group Buffalo Field Campaign, which works to prevent the slaughter of bison.

Mease estimates that just 5,000 buffalo now live in Yellowstone.

“This is where the buffalo should roam,” he said, pointing to the lush valley filled with meadows and streams.

In South Dakota, the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe is working to increase the bison population in hope of reintroducing it as a main source of nutrition, said Ryan LaBeau, chairman of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe.

“We want to get that food back to our people,” he said.

The birth of the white calf stunned not just tribal communities but also visitors to the national park.

Photographer Jordan Creech said that in all the years he has been leading tours through Yellowstone, he never imagined he would stumble upon the birth of a sacred animal.But on June 4, as he was driving a tour group through the park, observing badgers, bears and other wildlife, he came upon a scene like no other.

An American buffalo, or bison, was running along the road with her amniotic sac protruding from her belly. Creech knew she was about to give birth and tried to follow her. But the mother-to-be swam across a river and disappeared over a hill.

Some time later, Creech spotted the bison again, this time with her new calf. But unlike most newborns that have reddish-orange coloring, this calf was white.

“I know how important it is to the Native people,” said Creech, who was among the first people to snap photos of the white calf. “I’m still processing. It feels unreal.”

Looking Horse said he grew up hearing stories of the White Buffalo Calf Woman and hoped she would not return under his watch because it would be a sign the world needs healing. A white calf was born in Wisconsin in 1994, he said, and he remembers feeling both awe and dread as scientists began warning the world about the effects of climate change.

That another was born 30 years later feels prescient as heat waves and wildfires spread across the country, he said.

Bison have been integral to tribal culture for generations, providing an important source of food, clothing, fuel, tools, shelter and spirituality.

“I can’t believe this is the second warning,” he said, adding that Earth is a source for life, not a resource to be exploited.

Alicia Victoria Lozano is a California-based reporter for NBC News focusing on climate change, wildfires and the changing politics of drug laws.

Steve Patterson is a correspondent in Los Angeles for NBC News.

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Kevin Costner Is ‘So Tired’ of People Being ‘So Delicate’ About Indigenous Representation

Samantha bergeson.

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Kevin Costner  is speaking out on the “limited” discussions surrounding Indigenous representation in modern Westerns .

Costner, who wrote, directed, produced, and starred in “ Horizon: An American Saga – Chapter 1,” told Entertainment Weekly that complex portrayals of Native American people are necessary onscreen.

“Horizon: An American Saga – Chapter 1” includes Native American tribesman Pionsenay (Owen Crow Shoe) leading a massacre against settlers in an effort to fight and protect his land.

“I’m not interested in spoon-feeding people,” Costner continued. “The reality is it was one tent too many, and the [Apache] went down there, and they tried to wipe the [settlers] out. Their anger is they’re not able to hunt. They have to go and interact with tribes when they had long ago settled those issues.”

Costner previously starred in and directed 1990’s “Dances With Wolves”  with the cooperation of the Lakota people. The filmmaker explained that he wanted to show the conflict between tribes and settlers amid the Westward expansion.

“That was brought about because of those tents [of settlers],” the former “Yellowstone” actor said. “Those people can’t cross the river there, so they have to go to the left, or they have to go to the right, and it brings in that contact with other tribes.”

Costner told IndieWire on the Filmmaker Toolkit podcast that his passion for Westerns is deeply rooted in the genre’s core attributes and setting.

“I love my gunfights, but I’m not in a rush to get to them,” Costner said. “I’m in love with the language, and I think it informs [the action]. I’m willing to take my time saying the lines I want against these big spaces.”

“That scene actually has three different emotions, and that’s what I think is missing in the majority of Westerns,” Costner said of a scene in which settler characters are confronted with their impending mortality. “It’s not that I’m trying to set the record straight, it’s just that they can be too simple for me.”  

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