# data[].attributes.body
Use the padlet to research knowledge & indigenous societies (and the other elements of the course) in a real-world context, via a huge range of articles, videos, and podcasts from media sources all over the world.

# data[].attributes.body
You can use the resource to develop a clearer understanding of this optional theme, grasp how TOK concepts manifest in the real world, and gather examples to support arguments in the essay and exhibition.

# data[].attributes.body
We have arranged the media sources by 'Big Question' (one of our ways of structuring TOK - see this page of the site for more details). You can also apply them easily to the knowledge framework: Section 1 links to nature and scope; Section 2 links to ethics; Section 3, 5, 6 links to methods & tools; Section 4 links to perspectives.

# data[].attributes.body
The 12 key terms are highlighted - and feature in separate Padlet here.

# data[].attributes.headline
An FT article, considering what we can learn by engaging with art that deprioritises western belief and knowledge systems.

# data[].attributes.subject
An FT article, considering what we can learn by engaging with art that deprioritises western belief and knowledge systems.

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Choose one of the following works of art from the article: The Prophecy, by Fabrice Monteiro; Still Standing, by Victor Ehikhamenor; The world is not what exists but what happens, by Cassi Namoda. What does each work represent? How do they challenge our perspectives? What are your personal takeaways from the work of art you are looking at? When you’ve finished, swap your responses with other members of the class. Overall, do you agree that “we have much to learn from engaging with art that deprioritises western belief and knowledge systems”?

We're proud to work in partnership with the FT, to promote their free FT for Schools programme. Follow this link to sign up your school, and access this and other articles.

KEY TERMS Perspectives, Sacred, Unlearning and relearning, Memory

LINKS TO Indigenous societies,The arts

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
As I'm writing this column I'm preparing to go to Sharjah, to view the art at the Sharjah Biennial. One of the things I love about art is how it can challenge our perspectives and invite us to reflect on our allegiances, belief systems and actions. We inhabit a world that has historically valued western knowledge systems over non-western, traditional or indigenous ways of understanding. But we have much to learn from engaging with art that deprioritises western belief and knowledge systems.

Many west African cosmologies share some variation of the idea that the Earth and the natural world are sacred and should be afforded a particular reverence by humans. The Prophecy is a photo series by the Beninese-Belgian photographer Fabrice Monteiro, which he began in Senegal in 2013. "Untitled # 1" is one of several images of mythological-looking characters made from pieces of garbage and transformed into living, walking allegories of ecological and environmental crises in Senegal, among them water pollution and plastic waste.

In this work, a giant female figure rises up from a mound of refuse like a towering deity about to cast a judgment on humanity. She stands above an ominous landscape, dense bushes interspersed with carpets of rubbish and smouldering with smoke. Influenced by the Greek myth of Gaia, Monteiro created a narrative that a tired Mother Earth has sent her spirit children to prophesy to humanity about the consequences of how they are treating the natural world. Inherent in these warnings is the idea that human behaviour towards the rest of creation is partly the result of a broken relationship between the two, and our human inability to recognise any life force other than our own.

Monteiro was also inspired by west African masquerades. Looking at his work, I was taken back to a memory from my childhood when my family lived in Nigeria. It was a season for masquerades. At some point in the day, larger-than-life totem-like figures with masks and streams of raffia would begin to parade through the streets, hollering, beating instruments and dancing in elaborate, colourful costumes - extraordinary even on the vast landscape of my childhood imagination. I was terrified by these figures because I didn't think they were human.

Monteiro created a narrative that a tired Mother Earth has sent her spirit children to prophesy to humanity about the consequences of how they are treating the natural world

In my own Igbo tradition, many masquerades are representative of a relationship between the spirit and the human world, implying ancestors and those in the spiritual world are invested in what we humans get up to. Though I didn't fully understand it or have the language to articulate it, I knew this spectacle was symbolic of the fluidity of borders between the earthly and the transcendent. I have never had trouble believing in a thin line between earthly and spiritual realities.

Monteiro's work draws also on elements of animism, primarily the belief that humans are not the only ones with a life force energy or a spiritual essence. Whatever we might think of that idea, the way we treat creation might be significantly affected if we were open to the possibility that rivers, lakes, oceans, plants, trees, mountains and other animals have the potential to possess some aspect of a soul, and that a spirit world existed that ached at the broken relationship between humanity and the rest of creation.

The 53-year-old Nigerian artist Victor Ehikhamenor has been working for years on pieces that speak to the collision of African and western cultures. Ehikhamenor was born in Edo state, whose capital is Benin City, and was raised with both the traditional religious beliefs of his grandfather and the Catholic faith of his schooling. "Still Standing" (2022) is a 12ft mixed-media image of Oba Ovonramwen, ruler of the Benin Kingdom who went into exile after the 1897 razing and looting of Benin City by British forces. The Oba's traditional gown, headdress and accessories were made in Ehikhamenor's Lagos studio from thousands of orange, red and white rosary beads. Hanging on the gown are miniature Benin bronze ornament masks, a nod to the theft by the British of these precious cultural and religious artefacts; the artist cast them in Benin with traditional bronze-casters. The background is made of thousands of white rosaries that glow in the dark.

Works such as "Still Standing" aim to open a dialogue about how African cultural and religious knowledge was affected by the colonial project. Commissioned as part of a series that asked artists to respond to monuments in St Paul's Cathedral, London, the work was displayed next to the memorial brass of Harry Rawson, the British admiral who led the 1897 Benin expedition. It has now been acquired by the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, which last year agreed in principle to return its own collection of Benin bronzes to Nigeria.

In "The world is not what exists but what happens", 34-year-old Mozambican artist Cassi Namoda paints an almost folkloric image of a small trail of people moving along a formless waterscape, united by the labour of carrying a large, thick cloth. The figures seem to float across the canvas in front of a curvaceous, tangerine-coloured mountain range. The clouds are swaths of coral, caramel, soft pink and sky blue. A tiny blood-red moon hangs at the top right-hand corner of the frame. In the lower half, on the right hand side, is a faint outline of a ladder in the water; perhaps a portal to another realm, an underworld open to the traversing of beings between different realities.

Some of Namoda's work is inspired by Kenyan philosopher, theologian and writer John Mbiti, an ordained Anglican priest. In his seminal 1969 book African Religions and Philosophy, he suggested traditional African religious ideas should be afforded the same level of respect as other global faiths (although he was criticised by some for applying a Christian worldview to African cosmologies).

Mbiti also posited a uniquely African understanding of time, marked by two distinct time periods, the Sasa and the Zamani. Sasa time includes the present and recent past; Zamani time includes the far past and an immeasurable past. According to his book, when a person dies, they remain in Sasa time until the last person who can remember the deceased also dies. Then the person is considered to be in Zamani time.

When I look at Namoda's painting with this concept in mind, I see a lineage of people, connected by a literal fabric of time. Those at the back carry the events of the past, recognising how they affect how the people at the front exist in present time. The two people at the front are covered and immersed in the wide breath of the present, as they move towards a future no one can see.

I think there are gifts in being open to the belief that the way we live our lives in the present can be deeply marked by patterns and behaviours from our ancestral past, suggesting we inherit more from those who came before us than just physical characteristics. It can be empowering to consider that some of our behaviour or ways of living in the world are inherited from our ancestors, offering an opportunity for unlearning and relearning as we make our way through the world.
Follow on Twitter to find out about our latest stories first

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
As I'm writing this column I'm preparing to go to Sharjah, to view the art at the Sharjah Biennial. One of the things I love about art is how it can challenge our perspectives and invite us to reflect on our allegiances, belief systems and actions.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, exploring how different cultures have a different understanding of what constitutes being a person. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, exploring how different cultures have a different understanding of what constitutes being a person. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Why does it argue that ‘life’ versus ‘choice’ debates are actually debates about what constitutes a person? Why does this question differ within different cultures? How does it help to view being a person as a process rather than a ‘steady state’? Overall, how does this article highlight the importance of not taking the meanings of notions for granted before we enter into a debate?

KEY TERMS Cultures, Soul, Ntana, Process vs. steady state, Perspective

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Religion, Human sciences, Natural sciences, Knowledge & the knower

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A 4-month-old baby girl is tended by her grandmother inside a church in Duekoue, Ivory Coast, in 2011. AP Photo/Rebecca Blackwell

Opponents and proponents of abortion rights often frame their positions in terms of two fundamental values: " life" or "choice."

However, many defenders of "life" are comfortable with taking human life in situations such as war or capital punishment. Many on the side of "choice" advocate for government regulation of guns or mandates on masking and vaccines.

As I see it, "life" and "choice" are not, in and of themselves, really the issue. The central question is what - or who - constitutes a person.

This question has long preoccupied anthropologists, particularly those like me who specialize in the study of non-European religions. Some ideas usually taken for granted in the United States and Europe about what it means to be a person are, quite simply, not shared with followers of other religious traditions and cultures.

Ideas about personhood in U.S. culture are largely a product of Christianity, in which personhood is inextricably tied to the notion of the soul. Only a being who possesses a soul is a person, and personhood is treated as a black-and-white matter: Either a being has a soul or it does not.

As a specialist of religion in Africa, I have become aware of religious traditions that treat personhood in very different and more nuanced ways. The majority of people in Africa identify as Muslim or Christian, but indigenous religions remain widespread, and many view personhood as a process rather than a once-and-for-all phenomenon.

Gradual personhood

This is well illustrated by beliefs about babies in the Beng culture of Côte d'Ivoire, which anthropologist Alma Gottlieb details in her remarkable 2004 ethnography, "The Afterlife Is Where We Come From."

For Beng, all babies are reincarnations of people who recently died. They emerge from a place called "wrugbe," which is simultaneously the afterlife and a sort of before-life.

The idea that babies are reincarnations, especially of ancestors, is hardly specific to the Beng - or to African religions, for that matter. Indeed, a newborn has not really left "wrugbe" until her cut umbilical cord has dried out and fallen off. Only then is the infant considered in any sense a person. If she dies beforehand, she does not receive any sort of funeral. Even afterward, until children are several years old, people believe they remain poised between "wrugbe" and the world of ordinary humans.

For Beng and many other peoples, rituals mark the development of personhood. Some cultures believe children do not fully have a gender until they have undergone initiation. The process of initiation itself is a symbolic death and rebirth, as though the initiate becomes a new person. In some societies - for example Tallensi of northern Ghana - if an individual ever achieves full personhood, it is only after death, when they become an ancestor, fully involved in the lives of their descendants.

Not just humans

"Persons" are not even necessarily human. In Mande cultures in West Africa, such as the Dyula communities where I have done research, every clan is associated with a "ntana," a large and dangerous wild animal species: lions, leopards, elephants, crocodiles or pythons, for example. Members of the species are considered persons, but only for individuals in the associated clan.

Each one has a story about the origins of their relationship with their ntana - typically of how the ancestor of the species rescued the ancestor of the clan, such as by pulling him out of a pit into which he had fallen. Members of the clan must not kill or eat their ntana, and contact with or even sight of the remains of the dead animal is considered dangerous.

Two aspects of personhood stand out in particular when we compare how paradigms vary from culture to culture.

First, personhood is sometimes viewed as a process, not a steady state, and is not something each individual automatically possessed. Second, personhood is not a purely individual phenomenon, but intrinsically caught up in social relationships - especially between parents, siblings and children; between spouses and in-laws; and between the living and the dead. Christianity, on the other hand, emphasizes the soul and individual salvation: A being either possesses a soul or doesn't, and this soul's salvation or damnation is the individual's responsibility.

In Christian-majority societies, it may not always be apparent to what extent our taken-for-granted notions of personhood derive from a Christian foundation, until they're compared with other religious traditions. From my perspective, to embed these ideas into law - notably by banning abortion or even allowing its prohibition - is to embed theology into legal principle.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What does it mean to be a 'person'? Different cultures have different answers

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The fundamental issue at stake in abortion debates is personhood, which is viewed differently around the world, an anthropologist writes.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, which discusses how much of our botanic knowledge was established by colonial means, and the way Kew Gardens in London are trying to address that.  

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, which discusses how much of our botanic knowledge was established by colonial means, and the way Kew Gardens in London are trying to address that.  

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE This is a great article to use to explore how a ‘colonial’ viewpoint can shape the way we view the world. Students can read through the article and consider how this impacts on the way we understand the natural world (focus, for example, on the way we refer to ‘discovering’ new plants), and also other fields (such as history). Overall, how pervasive is the colonial legacy in shaping our worldviews? Can and should we try to overcome this in order to understand the world objectively? How does all this relate to the concept of ‘power’, which is one of the 12 new key concepts of TOK?

KEY TERMS Decolonise, Exploitation, Colonialism, Power dynamics, Imperialist, ‘Discovered’

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences, Human sciences,  Language, History

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Director of science at Kew: it's time to decolonise botanical collections

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
I've often struggled to answer the simple question, "Where are you from?" As I was born and raised in Brazil, like many people my origin is mixed - comprising indigenous, African and Mediterranean ancestors - and I dislike pre-defined labels. Having lived outside my birth country most of my life, I have experienced discrimination on multiple occasions.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Guardian article, looking at the link between indigenous language and knowledge about ecology - and how when we lose the former, the latter can disappear as well. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Guardian article, looking at the link between indigenous language and knowledge about ecology - and how when we lose the former, the latter can disappear as well. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Our Investigating Issues resource gives students access to more background on the rate at which languages are disappearing, and where this is happening. Use this article for two reasons: first, what is the link between ecological knowledge, and indigenous language, and why are we at risk of losing the first when the second disappears? Second, why is it important to go beyond ‘utilitarian arguments’ when we advocate for the protection of indigenous languages? In other words, why is so much more at stake?

KEY TERMS Linguistic diversity, Traditional knowledge, Culture, Utilitarian arguments

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Language, natural sciences

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Knowledge of medicinal plants is at risk of disappearing as human languages become extinct, a new study has warned.

Indigenous languages contain vast amounts of knowledge about ecosystem services provided by the natural world around them. However, more than 30% of the 7,400 languages on the planet are expected to disappear by the end of the century, according to the UN.

The impact of language extinction on loss of ecological knowledge is often overlooked, said the study's lead researcher, Dr Rodrigo Cámara-Leret, a biologist from the University of Zurich. "Much of the focus looks at biodiversity extinction, but there is a whole other picture out there which is the loss of cultural diversity," he said.

His team looked at 12,000 medicinal plant services associated with 230 indigenous languages in three regions with high levels of linguistic and biological diversity - North America, north-west Amazonia and New Guinea. They found that 73% of medicinal knowledge in North America was only found in one language; 91% in north-west Amazonia; and 84% in New Guinea. If the languages became extinct, the medicinal expertise associated with them probably would too. Researchers expect their findings from these regions to be similar in other parts of the world.

"The loss of language will have more critical repercussion to the extinction of traditional knowledge about medicinal plants than the loss of the plants themselves," said Cámara-Leret.

Amazonian herbal remedies on sale at Ver-o-Peso market in Belem, Brazil. Photograph: Mario Tama/Getty

The areas with languages most at risk were in north-west Amazonia, where 100% of this unique knowledge was supported by threatened languages, and in North America, where the figure was 86%. In New Guinea 31% of languages were at risk. The anticipated loss of linguistic diversity would "substantially compromise humanity's capacity for medicinal discovery", according to the paper, published in PNAS.

Such knowledge includes using the latex of plants to treat fungal infections, using bark to treat digestive problems, fruits for respiratory ailments, as well as natural stimulants and hallucinogens. "The list goes on and on, it's quite impressive," said Cámara-Leret. "Even the best plant taxonomists out there are amazed by the breadth of knowledge of indigenous cultures, not only about plants but also animals and their inter-relations."

It is impossible to know what has already been lost. More than 1,900 of the languages spoken now have fewer than 10,000 speakers and the UN has declared 2022-32 to be the International Decade of Indigenous Languages in recognition of this issue.

Jordi Bascompte, an ecologist from Zurich University and second author of the paper, said European medicinal knowledge may represent the "tip of the iceberg". Although a lot of drugs are based on synthetic compounds, there may be many more chemical components provided by plants that could unlock the potential for new treatments. "Any insight, regardless of where it comes from, may end up being useful," he said.

The paper did not examine to what degree medicinal services are considered effective in the western sense, although researchers say that in many instances plants had proved effective.

Much of the world's linguistic diversity is being safeguarded by indigenous people whose culture and livelihoods are under threat as barriers between groups are broken down. Unlike societies where information has been transcribed in books and computers, most indigenous languages transmit knowledge orally.

Governmental programmes to stimulate the transmission of languages, bilingual schooling and interest in cultural heritage would help communities retain linguistic diversity, said Cámara-Leret. But the medicinal aspect was just one of many reasons to promote the conservation and diversity of languages in the world, he added.

Sioux Lakota men at the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. Most speakers of the Lakota language are over the age of 70, and there are fears it will die out. Photograph: Robert Van Der Hilst/Gamma-Rapho/Getty

Dr Jonathan Loh, an anthropologist and conservationist from the University of Kent, who was not involved in the research, said he was surprised by the degree of linguistic uniqueness in medicinal plant knowledge. He has previously spoken about the parallels between linguistic and biological diversity, commenting that these had evolved in remarkably similar ways, and both faced an extinction crisis.

He said it was important, however, not to focus on utilitarian arguments for the conservation of languages, cultural diversity and biodiversity.

"There may be valuable knowledge of medicines unknown to western science contained within these languages, and doubtless that is true to some extent, but it is not the most important reason for conserving them," he said. "Every indigenous language and culture is a unique evolutionary lineage that once lost is lost forever."
Find more age of extinction coverage here, and follow biodiversity reporters Phoebe Weston and Patrick Greenfield on Twitter for all the latest news and features

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Knowledge of medicinal plants at risk as languages die out

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Loss of linguistic diversity means less chance to discover age-old remedies not known to science, study warns

# data[].attributes.headline
A Smithsonian article, telling the story of how one family is trying to revive the indigenous Hawaiian language. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Smithsonian article, telling the story of how one family is trying to revive the indigenous Hawaiian language. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE This is a fantastic and inspiring story of one family’s mission to not only revive a language, but also help to consolidate the existence of an entire culture. Read through to first understand the background of Pelehonuamea Suganuma and Kekoa Harman, and what they have set out to do. Then think why the survival of the Hawaiian language is so important to them. What role does language play in shaping our identity and worldviews? What do we lose when we lose a language? Why do some organizations and agencies seek to deliberately destroy the knowledge associated with indigenous societies?

KEY TERMS Suppressed, Culture, Forced assimilation, Worldview

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Language

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Pelehonuamea Suganuma and Kekoa Harman were bright-eyed high schoolers in Honolulu when they first crossed paths, in the 1990s. The two were paired for a performance-a ho'ike, as such shows are known in Hawaiian. Both teenagers had a passion for hula and mele (Hawaiian songs and chants), and they liked performing at the school they'd chosen to attend-Kamehameha High School, part of a 133-year-old private network that gave admissions preference to students of Hawaiian Polynesian ancestry. Still, one part of Hawaiian culture remained frustratingly out of reach for Pele and Kekoa: the language.

Over many generations, the native tongue of the islands had been systematically eliminated from everyday life, and even the Kamehameha Schools weren't able to bring it back. Part of it was a lack of interest-students seemed to prefer learning Japanese, Spanish or French. But more important, Hawaii's educators generally hadn't yet figured out how to teach Hawaiian vocabulary and grammar, or give eager youngsters like Pele and Kekoa opportunities to immerse themselves in Hawaiian speech.

A few years later, Pele and Kekoa found themselves together again. Both of them enrolled in a brand-new Hawaiian language program at the University of Hawaii at Hilo. The two former schoolmates became part of a pioneering cohort that was innovating ways to bring Hawaiian back to life. They helped develop some of the first truly successful Hawaiian language programs throughout the state's islands. Along the way, they started dating, got married and had four children, and raised them to speak fluent Hawaiian.

Today, Pele teaches at a Hawaiian-language K-12 school and Kekoa teaches Hawaiian language and culture at the college they both attended. At home, their family speaks almost exclusively Hawaiian. The Harmans are proud of the revival they helped carry out in just one generation. But Unesco still lists the language as critically endangered, and there's a long way to go before it's spoken again as a part of everyday life. "There's a false sense of security sometimes," says Pele, "that our language is coming back."

* * *

The Hawaiian archipelago-a string of islands born from volcanic activity-was untouched by humans for millions of years. Polynesian navigators discovered it as early as A.D. 400, and by the year 1200, their descendants had organized themselves into settlements called ahupua'a.

The first colonizers arrived in the late 1700s, led by Capt. James Cook, who'd set out on behalf of the British Empire to find a northwest passage between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. These explorers were soon followed by Americans-many of them Protestant missionaries-who settled the islands in large numbers throughout the 19th century. As part of their efforts to convert Hawaiians to Christianity, missionaries needed to teach them how to read the Bible in their native tongue. And that meant introducing palapala -the written word.

For centuries, Hawaiian had been an oral tongue-one steeped in mo'olelo (story, legend, history). But after missionaries helped create a written version of the language, the local people took to it. They established more than 100 Hawaiian-language newspapers, according to some records. By 1834, more than 90 percent of Hawaiians were literate-up from virtually zero just 14 years earlier.

Yet these strides in Hawaiian literacy were soon overtaken by efforts to erase Hawaiian culture altogether. American tycoons had also come to the islands, planting lucrative crops like sugar cane and coffee. To work the fields, they brought in foreigners-especially from Japan, China and the Philippines. (By 1896, people of Japanese descent made up roughly a quarter of Hawaii's population.) A new social and political hierarchy arose, largely with white Americans at the top.

These outsiders helped to phase out the Hawaiian system of governance. They replaced traditional foods like taro with rice and imported wheat. They started issuing fines for performing hula, the ancient Hawaiian form of dance and expression. And as the 19th century was winding down, the Americans overthrew Queen Lili'uokalani, Hawaii's last monarch. They annexed the archipelago as a territory in 1898.

By the time Hawaii became a state, in 1959, fewer than 2,000 people could speak Hawaiian fluently. Most of them were elderly; very few were children. The language seemed on the brink of being forgotten.

* * *

But there were still people left who remembered. Both Pele and Kekoa were close to their great-grandmothers-women born in the early 1900s, who spoke some Hawaiian, even though they were raised to think of their mother tongue as inferior to English. The great-grandmothers were the last members of each family to retain any fluency. Pele's and Kekoa's parents were the first generation to speak no Hawaiian at all.

Kekoa grew up on Maui-an island named after a demigod who's credited in Hawaiian tradition with pulling the entire archipelago up from the ocean floor. When Kekoa was a kid, his grandmother, who passed away a few years ago, used to take him to Hawaiian musical and hula performances. She'd make leis for tourist-targeted luaus, and he'd help her gather and string the flower garlands. "I loved going to those events," Kekoa says. "They fostered a sense of 'It's beautiful. It's fun. I want to be around that.'" Outside of these excursions, he lacked an outlet. He was never drawn to sports or other conventional activities foisted on American boys.

As Kekoa approached his teens, his parents gave him the option of becoming a boarder at Kamehameha Schools' main campus-roughly a hundred miles and several sea channels northwest of Maui, on the island of Oahu. Moving away from home isn't easy for any 13-year-old-not least for a Hawaiian whose life is defined by family, or ' ohana. But Kekoa went. Pele was drawn to Kamehameha Schools for similar reasons. One of her grandmothers was Mary Kawena Pukui, co-author of the Hawaiian Dictionary, the standard reference for the Hawaiian language. Her grandmother had dedicated her life to the study and preservation of Hawaiian culture-yet she was haunted by what Pele calls "the trauma and disconnect" of forced assimilation. Seeing her grandmother wrestle with this inner conflict made Pele hungry to "do Hawaiian things in a school setting."

Kekoa graduated from high school in 1995. He spent a year at college at the University of Puget Sound in Washington, then transferred to the University of Hawaii at Hilo.* Pele, who graduated from high school in 1997, ended up at the same campus around the same time. As it happened, 1997 was the year the Hawaiian legislature mandated a new program at the Hilo campus. It was called Ka Haka 'Ula O Ke'elikōlani, named after Ruth Ke'elikōlani Keanolani Kanāhoahoa, a woman from an ancient Hawaiian dynasty who was the governor of Hawaii during the mid-1800s. She was a defender of Hawaiian culture-although she came from a wealthy family and understood English, she lived in a traditional grass-roofed house and spoke only Hawaiian. The new program at Hilo had the motto O ka 'ōlelo ke ka'ā o ka Mauli: "Language is the fiber that binds us to our cultural identity."

Enrolling in this new program, Pele and Kekoa spoke Hawaiian as much as they could outside of class to become fluent. They "talked story" with their professors in the hallways. Their teachers hosted little get-togethers every week-Pau Hana Fridays, as they were known, the local equivalent of TGIF. ( Pau hana is a popular colloquialism across Hawaii: Pau means finished, while hana means work.) At these gatherings, the students fumbled with the language over card games, with music in the background and snacks on the table. "That's how we got comfortable," Pele says.

Those early days of the Hawaiian language renaissance had a sort of free-for-all flair. With a shortage of fluent Hawaiian speakers in the general population, the burgeoning network of Hawaiian-immersion schools drew on undergraduates from the program Kekoa and Pele were enrolled in. Kekoa started teaching at a preschool, part of a growing network called Aha Pūnana Leo, which means "nest of voices." Pele taught at Ke Kula 'O Nāwahīokalani'ōpu'u Iki, called Nāwahī for short-the first Hawaiian-immersion K-12 charter school, tucked along the slopes of the Big Island's Kilauea volcano, on the Hilo side.

Pele and Kekoa began dating in 1999 and married roughly two years later, on a date that coincided with a full moon. "It was a good day spiritually," Pele said. Hawaiian customs were integrated throughout the gathering-from the pule (blessing) delivered by Pele's great-grandmother and the couple's Hawaiian-language vows to the lei exchange and the guests' ho'okupu (offerings) of music and dance. Pele held a bouquet assembled by the professor who'd hosted the Pau Hana Fridays, comprising various plants found on the Big Island-a sprig from the koa tree, for example, which symbolized strength. Pele performed hula for Kekoa, dancing to a song composed by her great-grandmother.

Pele still teaches at Nāwahī. Its enrollment has increased by 10 percent every year, expanding the student body from 30 to more than 400. She has served as the school's math and social studies teacher as well as its elementary-level Hawaiian-chant and dance teacher. She and Kekoa also run an after-school hula program there. Last year, Nāwahī celebrated its 20th class of high school graduates. Kalāmanamana, the Harmans' eldest daughter, was among them.

This past April, Kekoa earned his doctorate in indigenous language and culture revitalization from the University of Hawaii at Hilo. Because of Covid-19, few people were able to be there in person to see him defend his dissertation, about the late hula master Joseph 'Īlālā'ole. But more than 100 people watched the proceedings over Zoom, many of them wearing aloha shirts and standing against backdrops of misty lawns.

The defense began and ended with mele-the songs and chants he and Pele were learning when they met. Each member of the Harman family performed a dance, including Kalāmanamana, who is now an undergraduate at Dartmouth but had come home to shelter in place with her parents. The defense itself, with questions from UH Hilo scholars, all took place in Hawaiian.

* * *

A decade or so ago, strangers passing the Harmans at the mall or grocery store used to be shocked to hear an entire family conversing in Hawaiian. They sometimes asked with concern whether the children spoke English. These days, the couple's three oldest children are 14, 15 and 19 (their youngest is not yet a year old) and they no longer get "stalked" for speaking Hawaiian. If anything, the onlookers are full of admiration. The number of Hawaiian speakers is markedly on the rise now. The last official estimate in 2016 put the number at 18,400. Back in the late 20th century, that number was around 14,000-and that was when the last generation of native Hawaiian speakers was still alive.

"Given our kids, our own programs, the students we've put out, we've made a lot of waves, a lot of progress," Pele says. The fact that their daughter and many other Nāwahī students have gone on to elite schools thousands of miles away "validates for a lot of people our way of life, the path that we've chosen."

Still, the Harmans worry about the future. Fostering a love of Hawaiian felt more intimate back when they were part of a small band of students, laughing their way through the Friday night dinners. Many of the students at Nāwahī spend Friday nights on Instagram and Fortnite and take their access to Hawaiian as a given. In fact, there's still no guarantee they'll remain fluent. Students have few opportunities to continue speaking Hawaiian after they complete their K-12 schooling.

As the Harmans see it, Hawaiian will survive only if people value the culture around it. After all, Hawaiian doesn't have the same marketing value as a massive international language like Spanish or Mandarin. Hawaiian is a language that describes local geographical features and captures an ancient worldview. It's the language Kekoa's and Pele's older relatives used to speak as they brought little gifts to friends' houses, or shared the mahi mahi caught on a fishing trip, or went holoholo -taking a walk and chit-chatting. "Now we have a generation of Hawaiian speakers, but if we don't also teach them those behaviors and beliefs, that fluency will only go so far," Kekoa says. "Hawaiian isn't just a language but a way of life."
*Editor's Note, December 14, 2020: An earlier version of this story noted that Kekoa attended college in Puget Sound, Washington. In fact, Kekoa attended the University of Puget Sound in Washington.
Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Inspiring Quest to Revive the Hawaiian Language

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A determined couple and their children are sparking the renewal of a long-suppressed part of their ancestors' culture

# data[].attributes.headline
This Conversation article discusses the relationship between indigenous languages, and knowledge about the natural world, arguing that the decline in the former affects the way we understand “ecosystems, conservation methods, plant life, animal behavior and many other aspects of the natural world.”

# data[].attributes.subject
This Conversation article discusses the relationship between indigenous languages, and knowledge about the natural world, arguing that the decline in the former affects the way we understand “ecosystems, conservation methods, plant life, animal behavior and many other aspects of the natural world.”

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE This relatively short article contains a lot of ideas. First, look at what it indicates about language and knowledge in general – do different languages support different types of understanding? Second, more specifically, what knowledge do indigenous languages in particular possess? Additionally, consider the empirical nature of indigenous knowledge via the video on the Ojibwe language. What does this reveal about the way indigenous people produce knowledge about the world, and the way their language supports this? Finally, consider the implications of the final thoughts of the article – “Once a language is gone, the traditional knowledge it carries also gets erased from society.” Do indigenous languages give us access to specific knowledge about the natural world? Does language determine knowledge?

KEY TERMS Linguistic emergency

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Language, Knowledge & the knower

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Alaska has a "linguistic emergency," according to the Alaskan Gov. Bill Walker. A report warned earlier this year that all of the state's 20 Native American languages might cease to exist by the end of this century, if the state did not act.

American policies, particularly in the six decades between the 1870s and 1930s, suppressed Native American languages and culture. It was only after years of activism by indigenous leaders that the Native American Languages Act was passed in 1990, which allowed for the preservation and protection of indigenous languages. Nonetheless, many Native American languages have been on the verge of extinction for the past many years.

Languages carry deep cultural knowledge and insights. So, what does the loss of these languages mean in terms of our understanding of the world.

Environmental knowledge

Embedded in indigenous languages, in particular, is knowledge about ecosystems, conservation methods, plant life, animal behavior and many other aspects of the natural world.

In Hawaiian traditions and belief systems, for example, the tree snails were connected to "the realm of the gods." Hawaiian royalty revered them, which protected them from overharvesting.

The Bishop Museum in Honolulu holds a shell necklace, or lei, of Queen Lili'uokalani, the last monarch of the Kingdom of Hawaii. It is made from tree snail shells, which signifies the high rank of female royalty. Wearing a shell was believed to provide "mana," or spiritual power and a way to understand ancestral knowledge.

Many of these snails are now extinct and those remaining are threatened with extinction. Scientists are working with Hawaiian language experts to learn about the belief systems that once helped protect them and their habitats.

A tool for doctors

Words in indigenous languages can have cultural meanings, that can be lost during translation. Understanding the subtle differences can often shift one's perspective about how indigenous people thought about the natural world.

For example, as an indigenous scholar of the environment, I led a team some years ago of language experts, elders and scholars from Montana and Alberta, Canada, to create a list of Blackfeet words, called a lexicon, of museum objects. The elders I worked with noted that the English word "herb," which was used to describe most plant specimens within museums, did not have the same meaning in Blackfeet.

In English, the word "herb" can have numerous meanings, including a seasoning for food. The closest English word to herb in Blackfeet is "aapíínima'tsis." The elders explained this word means "a tool that doctors use."

The hope is that the lexicon and audio files recorded in the Blackfeet language that our research helped create, might assist future scholars access the embedded meanings in languages.

Saving vanishing languages

Many Native American communities in the United States are now working to save these cultural insights and revitalize their languages.

In Wisconsin, an Ojibwe language school called "Waadookodaading," translated literally as "a place where people help each other," immerses its students in the environmental knowledge embedded in the language.

The Ojibwe believe that theirs is a language of action. And the best way for children to learn is by doing and observing the natural world. Each spring, for example, the students go into the woods to gather maple sap from trees, which is processed into maple syrup and sugar. These students learn about indigenous knowledge of plants, their habitats and uses.

Language loss can be considered as extreme as the extinction of a plant or an animal. Once a language is gone, the traditional knowledge it carries also gets erased from society.

Efforts are now underway worldwide to remind people of this reality. The United Nations has designated 2019 as the " International Year of Indigenous Languages " in order to raise awareness of indigenous languages as holders of "complex systems of knowledge" and encourage nation states to work toward their revitalization.

The loss of indigenous languages is not Alaska's concern alone. It affects all of us.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How the loss of Native American languages affects our understanding of the natural world

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Many Native languages are dying, and their loss has deep and profound implications for our world.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article*, questioning whether the portrayal of Queen Cleopatra in a new Netflix series amounts to cultural appreciation or appropriation. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article*, questioning whether the portrayal of Queen Cleopatra in a new Netflix series amounts to cultural appreciation or appropriation. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Why has there been a backlash against Netflix’s new docuseries about Cleopatra? How does the article’s author, Marian Makkar, define cultural appropriation - and how close was your definition? How have the ‘questionable experts’ consulted by the show compounded the problem? Follow the link to the response by the show’s director, Tina Gharavi. How effectively does she defend the series from its detractors? Overall, what are our individual and group responsibilities when it comes to avoiding cultural divides?

KEY TERMS Cultural misrepresentation, Misplaced legitimacy, Indigenous cultural knowledge, experts, Cultural disrespect, Responsibilities

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, History, The arts

*We're proud to work in partnership with The Conversation. To sign up for their newsletter, which we draw on widely to create TOK lesson material, follow this link.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Is Netflix’s Queen Cleopatra cultural appreciation or cultural appropriation?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The backlash against Netflix’s documentary asks the question of how brands should take more responsibility when representing other cultures.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, focusing on the struggle of native Americans for control over their sacred land. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, focusing on the struggle of native Americans for control over their sacred land. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE What is the policy of ‘co-management’, and why are some states introducing it? How do indigenous beliefs determine the relationship indigenous peoples have with the natural world? Why is this at odds with the way the US government views both ‘sacred land’ and indigenous religion? Overall, why is it important to build in multiple outlooks and perspectives when we try to understand and manage the environment?

KEY TERMS Origin narrative, Truly religious, Culturally important

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Religion

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Native Americans’ decadeslong struggle for control over sacred lands is making progress

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Native Hawaiians see Mauna Kea mountain as sacred. Scientists use its summit for research. A new policy called co-management may help resolve this land conflict and similar ones across the US.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Guardian article that explores how indigenous stewardship of land offers a better way to manage carbon emissions.  

# data[].attributes.subject
A Guardian article that explores how indigenous stewardship of land offers a better way to manage carbon emissions.  

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE First of all, what is Tuntiak Katan’s point that features at the beginning of the article, and what evidence supports what he is saying? Second, what does this reveal about the differences between smaller-scale, indigenous societies, and larger-scale, industrialized society in terms of the way in which we produce and use our knowledge about the natural world? Can our values ever support the responsible stewardship of the environment?

KEY TERMS Stewardship

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Ecosystems will continue to collapse around the world unless humanity listens to the expertise of indigenous communities on how to live alongside nature, a prominent Amazon leader has warned.

Tuntiak Katan of the Ecuadorian Shuar people, who is vice-president of the pan-Amazon organisation representing communities in the river basin, said governments were spending millions of dollars on environmental consultants while largely ignoring the land management skills of the planet's indigenous people that could help combat the climate crisis and biodiversity loss.

Speaking to the Guardian from the Ecuadorian Amazon, Katan, who became the first indigenous representative at a UN climate action summit last year, said environmental "catastrophes" such as the fires that devastated the world's largest rainforest in 2019 would continue unless the contributions and human rights of indigenous people were respected.

Indigenous communities support around 80% of the planet's biodiversity despite accounting for less than one twentieth of the human population, according to the World Bank.

Katan's warning came as a new study revealed that parts of the Amazon rainforest under the stewardship of indigenous peoples sequester carbon better than areas with little protection, leading to less deforestation and degradation.

"We are the defenders of nature, of the life of the forests, of our territories," said Katan, vice-president of Coordinator of the Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon River Basin ( Coica). "The world is investing lots of money to implement public policy to combat climate change, help conservation and restoration. But these policies are made in offices by technical experts with little or no knowledge of the Earth."

Biodiversity loss was named as the third biggest risk to the world in terms of likelihood and severity this year by the World Economic Forum, ahead of terror attacks, infectious diseases and interstate conflict.

Children from the Huni Kuin tribe on land ravaged by the 2019 Amazon fires. Photograph: David Tesinsky/Mediadrumimages

Despite the concerns expressed by the global elite in Davos, there was no indigenous representation at last week's forum in the Swiss ski resort, according to Katan. He said he would welcome the opportunity to attend next year's forum to outline an indigenous economic model based on maintaining the health of the world's soils, rivers and the forest.

"If the proposals, knowledge and management practices of indigenous people are not listened to, there will be more big catastrophes. The issue of fires in the Amazon will continue, the degradation of forests and water will continue, deforestation will continue," Katan added.

This month, the UN unveiled the draft of a Paris-style agreement on nature calling for a commitment to protect at least 30% of the planet, dramatically reduce pollution and promote the participation and practices of indigenous people.

Katan said: "We are well-coordinated with our brothers and sisters from Indonesia, the Congo, communities in the Arctic and from the Pacific. We've been discussing issues with our brothers and sisters from all parts of the world.

"In Indonesia, for example, they also have a lot of knowledge about how to manage tropical forests. But the same story is being repeated here as in other parts of the world: the lack of recognition of their knowledge and the lack of respect for the human rights of indigenous populations."

Anti-indigenous sentiment is increasing in some parts of the planet. This month activists said they would sue Brazil's far-right president Jair Bolsonaro for his latest racist comments in which he questioned the humanity of indigenous communities.

In one of his weekly Facebook broadcasts, Bolsonaro declared: "Indians are undoubtedly changing ... They are increasingly becoming human beings just like us."

A person holds cardboard crosses that read 'indigenous land' during a protest against budget cuts on public education by President Jair Bolsonaro's government. Photograph: Silvia Izquierdo/AP

The new study from the Woods Hole Research Center in Falmouth, Massachusetts, found that between 2003 and 2016, 90% of net emissions came from outside protected lands in the Amazon.

Scientist and lead author Wayne Walker said: "Our work shows that forests under the stewardship of indigenous peoples and local communities continue to have better carbon outcomes than lands lacking protection, meaning that their role is critical and must be strengthened if Amazon basin countries are to succeed in maintaining this globally important resource, while also achieving their commitments under the Paris Climate Agreement."

The findings add weight to the recommendations of a report on land use and the climate crisis by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which found that areas held or managed by indigenous peoples had much less human impact on the environment.

The report also highlighted the lack of consideration of indigenous views and knowledge in understanding large regions and ecosystems.
Find more age of extinction coverage here, and follow biodiversity reporters Phoebe Weston and Patrick Greenfield on Twitter for all the latest news and features

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Trust our expertise or face catastrophe, Amazon peoples warn on environment

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Indigenous leader urges focus on native knowledge as study shows rainforest areas under tribal stewardship manage carbon better

# data[].attributes.headline
An ABC article, reporting that Australia’s new $5 banknote will feature an indigenous figure instead of Australia’s head of state, King Charles III.

# data[].attributes.subject
An ABC article, reporting that Australia’s new $5 banknote will feature an indigenous figure instead of Australia’s head of state, King Charles III.

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE What are the details of the story covered by ABC news? Why do students think this is such a divisive issue (see the different opinions offered on the matter)? Which figure seems a more appropriate choice to students to represent Australia - King Charles, or an indigenous figure - and why? Overall, should more be done to recognize and celebrate the role of indigenous societies around the world? What are the most effective ways of doing this?

KEY TERMS Culture and history, Indigenous heritage, Decolonise

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Human sciences

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
King Charles will not feature on Australia's $5 banknote following a decision by the Reserve Bank of Australia, prompting outrage from the opposition.

King Charles will not replace Queen Elizabeth II on the Australian $5 note

The Reserve Bank says its new design will honour First Australians instead

The Queen's portrait will remain in circulation while the new note is designed

The portrait of Queen Elizabeth II first appeared on the $5 polymer note in July 1992 when the Queen celebrated the 40th anniversary of her accession.

Following the Queen's death, the RBA reviewed the design and on Thursday announced via a statement that the note would change, following consultation with the federal government.

"The Reserve Bank has decided to update the $5 banknote to feature a new design that honours the culture and history of the First Australians," the statement said.

"This new design will replace the portrait of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

"The other side of the $5 banknote will continue to feature the Australian Parliament."

However it is expected to be several years before the new note is in circulation.

The RBA said it would consult with First Australians on the new design.

"The new banknote will take a number of years to be designed and printed," the statement said.

"In the meantime, the current $5 banknote will continue to be issued.

"It will be able to be used even after the new banknote is issued."

Dutton says change an 'attack' on society

Opposition Leader Peter Dutton said he did not agree with the decision.

"There is no question about this, that it's directed by the government," he told Sydney radio station 2GB.

"I think it is another attack on our systems, our society and institutions."

Liberal senator Dean Smith, who is a staunch monarchist and constitutional conservative, said he did not understand why the note could not incorporate all elements of Australia's history.

"A design incorporating both our new King and an appreciation for Australia's Indigenous heritage and culture would be a better and more unifying approach," he said in a statement.

"This decision misses a unique opportunity for both the RBA and Anthony Albanese to merge these two important aspects of Australia's story."

Treasurer Jim Chalmers was involved in the decision-making process and said he supported the verdict.

"We were consulted on this decision, it is a decision for the RBA to take but the governor consulted me in reaching this decision," he said.

"I welcome the decision taken ... to ensure that the new $5 note recognises and celebrates the culture and history and heritage of Indigenous Australians."

He insisted the decision struck the right balance.

"It's important to remember that the monarch will continue to be on our coins," he said.

"It is an opportunity to strike a good balance here. The monarch will still be on the coins but the $5 note will say more about our history and our heritage and our country and I see that as a good thing."

Greens First Nations spokesperson Lidia Thorpe said the redesign was a step towards decolonising Australia.

"This is a massive win for the grassroots, First Nations people who have been fighting to decolonise this country," Senator Thorpe wrote on Twitter.

Different designs and old controversies

When the $5 note featuring the Queen's likeness was first released in 1992, there was some criticism about the decision to put her portrait on the note.

The Reserve Bank of Australia museum's website stated that the criticism was linked to the decision to replace Caroline Chisholm with the Queen.

"The Reserve Bank defended its decision to include the portrait of the Queen, explaining that the monarch's portrait always appeared on at least one banknote; as Australia remained a constitutional monarchy, it was still appropriate to depict the Queen on Australia's banknotes," it said.

The Queen was previously on the $1 paper banknote that was first issued in 1966 and the 1 pound banknote that was first released in 1953.

There have been Indigenous designs on different notes throughout the decades, including the first $1 banknote in 1966.

The current $5 design has an image of Parliament House that includes the forecourt mosaic, which is based on a Central Desert dot-style painting by Michael Nelson Jagamara.

The $50 banknote features David Uniapon, a Ngarrindjeri man from South Australia, who is an author, inventor, activist and musician.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Dutton says King Charles snub in $5 note redesign an 'attack on society'

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
King Charles won't be replacing the late Queen on the new $5 note, after the Reserve Bank decides to honour First Nations culture instead.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, looking at the process of ‘re-indigenization’, whereby people claim indigenous status. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, looking at the process of ‘re-indigenization’, whereby people claim indigenous status. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE This is a useful article not only for introducing students to the term ‘re-indigenization’ (or ‘self-indigenization’), but also for its exploration of a key feature of indigenous societies - ownership. First, students can find out what the term means, and why many people (such as Johnny Depp) have embarked on the process of ‘re-indigenization’. What ‘inherent problems’ does the author of the article (who is a citizen of the Anishinaabeg Nation) identify with this? How does this issue highlight the difference between the outlooks of indigenous, and large-scale industrial societies, concerning property rights?

KEY TERMS Re-indigenization, Indigenous communities, Colonialism

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Politics

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It wasn't until very recently that I heard the term "re-indigenization" used in academic spaces.

I'm familiar with Indigenous resurgence and how it's connected to the restoration and reparation happening within Indigenous communities - work that often focuses on healing intergenerational divides caused by Indian Residential Schools and the 60s Scoop - but this idea of "re-indigenization" was different.

It appeared to justify the idea that any person who discovers they have a "root Indigenous ancestor" from anywhere between 150 to 400 years ago must claim an Indigenous identity and proudly take up spaces deemed to require Indigenous perspectives and voices.

Part of this process appeared to involve attaching and embedding oneself, not within the particular Indigenous community or Nation where their long-ago "Indigenous" ancestor hailed from, but within internal institutional Indigenous communities or organizations that fronted as "Indigenous communities" for the purpose of institutional or "urban" legitimacy.

This is a problem.

As a citizen of the Anishinaabeg Nation and community member of Nezaadiikaang (Lac des Mille Lacs First Nation), I am the Queen's National Scholar in Indigenous Studies and an associate professor at Queen's University, Ontario. I have been in academia for a decade now, and previously worked in various capacities serving Indigenous communities. My first full-time job after undergrad was in the political office of former Grand Chief of Nishnawbe Aski Nation Stan Beardy.

Given that my own family members have continuously held political appointments, I have been listening to Anishinaabeg articulate concepts of self-determination, nationhood and sovereignty for many years.

Indigeneity through self-indigenization

I want to address the inherent problems with indigeneity through self-indigenization or re-indigenization.

There is a connection between self-indigenization based on ancestry, and settler colonial violence that is conveniently being ignored in our public institutions.

"Mining" the archive for biological trace(s) of "nativeness" follows the same settler colonial, possessive and extractivist logic of mining Indigenous lands.

Both Indigenous lands and identities are positioned as resources that people are entitled to claim and own. Dakota scholar Kim Tall Bear has shown us how this practice is linked to Eurocentric concepts of "identity" that privilege individualism and inherited property.

Within settler colonial concepts of property rights, identity becomes something that can be claimed, owned and put to use. It is interesting to see many of my colleagues publicly reject extractivist pursuits like pipelines while remaining silent or uncertain about similar tactics employed against Indigenous personhood.

The rush to "indigenize"

While it is widely acknowledged that Indigenous identity can be complicated given the decades of ongoing colonialism, the move to conflate ancestry with indigeneity is an entirely different issue that is on the rise in universities and other public institutions.

The issue is that in their rush to "indigenize," universities have created the conditions whereby someone who has mined the genealogical archives can access a position reserved for an Indigenous person, displacing those of us who are connected to and claimed by a living community/Nation of people.

This phenomenon undermines the inherent sovereignty of Indigenous Nations who have the right to determine who does and does not belong to their communities.

Read more: Stolen identities: What does it mean to be Indigenous? Podcast EP 8

When Indigenous folks push back against self-indigenization or re-indigenization, they receive considerable backlash that in many ways distracts from the key issues at hand.

We are often accused of being caught up in divisive blood quantum requirements. The irony, of course, is that I have yet to hear any Indigenous critic of the extractivist logic even mention "Indian status" or "blood quantum" in their arguments.

The only ones who seem obsessed with "native blood" are those whose entire claim to indigeneity is based on them locating someone in their genetic or ancestral history.

I recently heard arguments that self-indigenization is a moral, ethical and traditional process that brings us out of the colonial shackles of the Indian Act. But erasing or ignoring the reality of the Indian Act, and of Indigenous survival in the face of it, does not magically bring about decolonization.

Indigenous Peoples settled that argument when they rejected Pierre Trudeau's infamous White Paper more than 50 years ago.

(R. D. Davidson. Department of Mines and Technical Surveys/Library and Archives Canada, PA-020304), CC BY

Re-casting oneself as Indigenous

The problem with re-inventing oneself as "Indigenous" is based on the same logic of possession and fantasies of entitlement that rationalized settler possession of Indigenous lands.

Embracing your "Indigenous roots," re-casting oneself as Indigenous and thinking that this is the best way to account for your history or to help Indigenous Peoples is not supporting Indigenous sovereignties or the movement toward decolonial futures.

In her new book, Red Scare: The State's Indigenous Terrorist, Lenape scholar Joanne Barker uses the term "kinless Indian" to describe how individuals whose initial claim to indigeneity stems from a false, tenuous or distant ancestor, and how this claiming absolves the notion that they have any benefit from or complicity with the dispossession of, and violence against, Indigenous Peoples.

Drawing on the work of Métis scholar Adam Gaudry, Barker clearly articulates how this process of individual or collective Indigenous "re-invention" undermines Indigenous self-determination and sovereignty, as it reflects this idea that Indigenous communities and their respective governance systems did not survive colonization.

It is very clear that we are not facing an Indigenous identity crisis in public institutions. Indigenous Nations have always maintained their citizenship orders. They have always retained the right to determine who does and does not belong. We know who we are.

What we are facing has been, and continues to be, a settler colonial crisis, which under its current guise, seeks to replace us.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
We are facing a settler colonial crisis, not an Indigenous identity crisis

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Indigenous Nations have always maintained their citizenship orders. They have always retained the right to determine who does and does not belong. We know who we are.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, explaining the differences between cultural appropriation, and cultural appreciation. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, explaining the differences between cultural appropriation, and cultural appreciation. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE The Conversation offers some useful articles to help us navigate our way through tricky contemporary issues, and this one is a great example. You can begin by asking students what they feel is the difference between appropriation and appreciation of other cultures, and why it’s important to be able to distinguish between them. How can approaching the issue ‘mindfully’ help us to do so successfully? How can viewing other cultures without being inspired by ‘fads’ provide us with a more profound understanding of them?

KEY TERMS Ethical cultural sharing vs. exploitative cultural appropriation, Ephemeral, Fad-inspired

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Human sciences, History

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
American reality TV star Kim Kardashian was criticized for sporting earrings patterned from the sacred Hindu Om symbol during a photo shoot for her beauty products line. E-Times

Fashion companies are increasingly being taken to task for selling expensive versions of traditional Indigenous dress. Gucci's kaftans came with a US$3,500 price tag, which is far more than the $10 that Indians pay for a very similar-looking traditional kurta. Louis Vuitton's $700 scarfs resembled the keiffyeh that is viewed as a symbol of Palestinian nationalism and sold in much of the Arab world at a far lower cost. Both fashion labels received criticism, but not only for the seemingly inflated prices. They were accused of appropriating Indigenous cultural artifacts for profit.

It is also an accusation that has been leveled against many celebrities. The American model Kendall Jenner was accused of "hijacking Mexican culture and wearing it as a costume" for her new Tequila 818 advertising campaign. And Canadian singer Justin Bieber is yet again being accused of cultural appropriation for sporting dreadlocks - a natural hairstyle for people of color across many different civilizations.

These are just a few examples of the increasing global phenomenon of people, organizations and businesses being held to account for appropriating cultures outside of their own. Interestingly, though, the boundaries between ethical cultural sharing and exploitative cultural appropriation are not always clear. I am a scholar researching American race and ethnic relations, and students often ask me how they can differentiate between the two.

What is cultural appropriation?

In the halls of academia, discourse regarding cultural appropriation arose in the late 1970s, sparked by the publication of Edward Said's famous book "Orientalism." In this work, Said explored how, in the West, cultural notions of the "orient" invariably aided and abetted the material and cultural plundering of Asia.

As research on the history of Western cultural exploitation of Indigenous peoples proliferated, the work and research of American historian and cultural theorist George Lipsitz came to be viewed as laying the foundation for today's debates regarding what is and what is not cultural appropriation.

Lipsitz, writing in the the 1990s, argued that cultural appreciation becomes cultural appropriation "when an element of culture is adopted from a marginalized group without respect for its cultural meaning or significance or with the purpose of exploiting the culture for economic or social gain."

That being said, scholarly consensus regarding cultural appropriation has long accepted that the lines between cultural appreciation and appropriation may be difficult to clearly determine in real time, and especially within the contemporary social media-driven zeitgeist.

Thin line

There have been myriad cases of cultural appropriation of Indigenous and traditional cultures. However, some cases appear to be more clearly unethical and exploitative of culture than others.

The vast plundering of Indigenous cultural artifacts, treasures and traditions that occurred throughout the colonial era provides the clearest historical examples of unconscionable exploitation and appropriation of Indigenous cultures. And, for the most part, the treasures still have not been returned.

A more recent example of clearly unethical cultural appropriation and exploitation of Indigenous cultures for profit came to the fore in 2021 when the government of Mexico accused clothing companies Zara, Anthropologie and Patowl of appropriating and selling designs based on patterns and symbols derived from indigenous Mexican cultures and demanded recompense.

The line blurs a bit when celebrity influencers unwittingly appropriate and inappropriately flaunt sacred symbols of Indigenous and traditional cultures - as in the case of Kim Kardashian sporting earrings patterned from the sacred Hindu Om symbol during a photo shoot for her beauty products line. In another example, lingerie company Victoria's Secret has repeatedly used designs inspired by sacred Native American traditions during its fashion shows.

A similar case of blurred lines between cultural appreciation and appropriation arose just last month when actor Michael B. Jordan announced on the U.S. holiday Juneteenth the launch of his new rum brand J'ouvert. The name derives from the Trinidadian word for the early morning celebrations kicking off the nation's annual Emancipation Day - a holiday marking the abolition of slavery in the Caribbean in 1838.

The marketing campaign for Jordan's rum reduced this important Trindadian holiday to the tagline - "J'OUVERT Rum is a tribute to the party start," provoking wide condemnation from Trinidadians, including Trinidadian rapper Nicki Minaj.

In support of Jordan and the rum's name, some Trinidadians pointed out that one of Jordan's business partners is Trinidadian and that Trinidad as a nation benefits from the exposure. Some social media commentators argued that the criticism may be misguided because, although Jordan may not be from Trinidad, he is Black, and diverse Black cultures should unite broadly in support of Black capitalism more generally.

Nevertheless, after a few days of contemplation, Jordan and his business partners apologized and opted to rebrand their rum.

Cultures are complex

The reality is that adjudicating between cultural appreciation and appropriation is never simple, and that is because cultures are vast, complex, historically determined and ever-changing.

In the cases of both Kardashian and Jordan, I would argue that had either of them sought to establish true cultural appreciation for the cultures from which they were drawing, the accusations and inappropriate use of cultural symbols could have been avoided. This could have been achieved through long immersion and deep learning over the years about the history and current manifestations of the cultures.

Americans are increasingly living within fantastically diverse multicultural worlds. Sharing in each others' cultures is not only good; when done right, it is important and helps build community.

But cultural sharing is best when done mindfully. And cultural appreciation is best when it is not ephemeral or fad-inspired.

[ Get the best of The Conversation, every weekend. Sign up for our weekly newsletter.]

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What is cultural appropriation, and how does it differ from cultural appreciation?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Celebrities and businesses have drawn criticism for cultural appropriation. An expert provides guidance on when it is sharing another culture out of appreciation and when it is appropriation.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, looking at how ‘heritage algorithms’ can teach students about the mathematics of different cultures’ design practices.  

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, looking at how ‘heritage algorithms’ can teach students about the mathematics of different cultures’ design practices.  

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE What are ‘heritage algorithms’, and what examples does the article offer of them? How do heritage algorithms challenge the myth of primitive cultures? What are CSDTs, and how do they give access to indigenous designs and artifacts? To wrap up: How do heritage algorithms enable us to reframe race as a “rich source of creativity, and liberation” which encourages “curiosity and scientific inquiry”?

KEY TERMS  Heritage algorithms, Cultural mixing, Perspective, Myth, CSDTs, Ethnocomputing, Interpretations

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Mathematics, Technology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The model of democracy in the 1920s is sometimes called " the melting pot " - the dissolution of different cultures into an American soup. An update for the 2020s might be "open source," where cultural mixing, sharing and collaborating can build bridges between people rather than create divides.

Our research on heritage algorithms aims to build such a bridge. We develop digital tools to teach students about the complex mathematical sequences and patterns present in different cultures' artistic, architectural and design practices.

By combining computational thinking and cultural creative practices, our work provides an entry point for students who are disproportionately left out of STEM careers, whether by race, class or gender. Even those who feel at home with equations and abstraction can benefit from narrowing the gap between the arts and sciences.

What are heritage algorithms?

Traditional STEM curricula often present science as a ladder you climb. For example, you might be told that math starts with counting, then goes to algebra, then calculus and so on.

But our research has found that the global history of science is more like a bush: Each culture has its own branching set of discoveries. Some of these discoveries offer a perspective that's different from the theorem-proof approach for math or hypothesis-experiment approach for biology. Understanding the rules and techniques that create cultural patterns from the maker's point of view can help bridge the gap between knowledge branches. We refer to these hybrids of computation and culture as heritage algorithms, and there are examples everywhere.

Flying over an African village, you can see the recursive geometry of African fractals in their architecture: circles of circles, rectangles within rectangles, and other "self-similar" structures. These fractal patterns also appear in their textiles, carvings, paintings, ironwork and more.

Other kinds of algorithms underlie the repeating sequences of bent wood arcs that make up Native American wigwams, canoes and cradles. Even henna tattoos demonstrate the interactions among computation, nature and culture.

These heritage algorithms challenge the myth of "primitive cultures" - the idea that early Africans had no math past counting on fingers or that Native American agriculture lacked sophistication.

The computational thinking that is embedded in Indigenous artifacts and other creative practices, such as weaving, beadwork and quilting, is not merely decorative. It also reflects different ways of thinking about the world. Our interviews with artisans revealed how they visualize spiritual concepts in formal techniques and numerical sequences.

Bringing heritage algorithms to the classroom

Heritage algorithms give students a way to blend the abstract rigors of math, the grounded legacies of culture and the infinite possibilities of art. To bring these algorithms to the classroom, we have created interactive computer programs and simulations that we call culturally situated design tools, or CSDTs.

Each CSDT was created in collaboration with Indigenous elders, street artists, traditional crafters and others. With the creators' permission, we transfer their knowledge of pattern creation into digital tools that students enjoy using and teachers enjoy implementing in their lesson plans.

It's important to craft each CSDT to reflect the way those artisans think about the cultural practice. For instance, the slope of the line y=x, mathematically calculated as "rise over run," is 1 - for every unit you move up the line, you move a unit to the right. This line forms a 45-degree angle with the x-axis. But when Navajo weavers use this "up one, over one" pattern, the slope is closer to a 30-degree angle. This is because they weave yarn horizontally through vertical cords that are thicker than the yarn. So we made sure to preserve this feature in the weaving simulation we built.

A crucial aspect of CSDTs is that students may use them to follow their interests. This freedom and independence lets students encounter new cultures, delve deeper into their own identity or mix designs from different cultures to create something completely new.

We have seen Black students choose an Appalachian quilting simulation, Native American students choose cornrow simulations and white students create beadwork simulations. Students' creative designs often mix many cultures together - cornrows become " powwow braids," and African fractal simulations turn into plants, lungs and river deltas.

Heritage algorithms and CSDTs provide a powerful starting place for students to improve their computing skills and confidence. These tools even provide a foundation for a variety of careers, from architecture to environmental engineering.

When computation and culture collide

The reach of heritage algorithms has recently extended beyond learning environments to contemporary art spaces. Artists are generating a bold new creative style using "ethnocomputing" - an understanding of computer science from a cultural perspective.

You can see fresh interpretations of heritage algorithms in the African fractals embedded in the work of visual artist Tendai Mupita, the cornrow simulations integrated in the work of Rashaad Newsome, the blending of the African diaspora and technology by Nettrice Gaskins and the creative duo Tosin Oshinowo and Chrissy Amuah.

An exhibition on display in New York City, the U.K. and Los Angeles explores the textile techniques of artists inspired by the African American quilting tradition of Gee's Bend, Alabama.

Our research on heritage algorithms is partially driven by a philosophical desire to reframe STEM as a source of radical joy for every ethnicity and identity. Inspired by the radical feminist phrase "sex-positive feminism," we sometimes call our perspective " race-positive design" - thinking of race not in purely negative terms of oppression but instead as a rich source of creativity, liberation and a free-thinking mindset for curiosity and scientific inquiry.

This philosophical stance also has a practical side: statistically significant improvement in STEM scores for underrepresented students. Many teachers have recognized the potential of heritage algorithms for getting students invested in STEM. One teacher using the graffiti tool told us this was the first time students asked if they could stay in her math class after school. Another said she would never teach negative numbers again without the bead loom CSDT.

Heritage algorithms, both in the classroom and beyond, open up a two-way bridge between humanistic and technical knowledge. They offer a space where everyone - teacher and student, young and old, geek and artist - can learn, share and collaborate.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Heritage algorithms combine the rigors of science with the infinite possibilities of art and design

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
By bridging culture and computation, heritage algorithms challenge the myth of 'primitive cultures' and forge a new understanding of science and art.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Verdict article, looking at how climate change has left Tuvalu with “no alternative but to pioneer the concept of a digital nation.”

# data[].attributes.subject
A Verdict article, looking at how climate change has left Tuvalu with “no alternative but to pioneer the concept of a digital nation.”

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE What threat is facing TuValu? How are they intending to use AI technology to help them respond to this threat? What does the article mean when it says the project is more “palliative than preventative”? To wrap up: What constitutes a country’s cultural heritage, and what should we do in order to safeguard it against existential threats?

KEY TERMS Preserve and maintain, Digital nation, Cultural heritage, palliative vs. preventative True conservation

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences, Technology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Digital twins: a new tool for ecological preservation?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Digital twins are digital representations of physical assets, systems, or processes. They help to detect, prevent, predict, and optimise.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Guardian article, looking at how two communities in the Peruvian Andes drew on indigenous knowledge to connect their villages via a woven bridge. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Guardian article, looking at how two communities in the Peruvian Andes drew on indigenous knowledge to connect their villages via a woven bridge. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE In what ways can traditional knowledge “connect cultures”?

KEY TERMS Cultural manifestation, Traditions

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, History

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Peruvians from the Huinchiri community in Cusco region are rebuilding a 500-year-old Incan hanging bridge, made using traditional weaving techniques to string a crossing together spanning the Apurimac river far below.

The Q'eswachaka bridge has been used for over 500 years to connect communities divided by the river. But during the Covid pandemic it fell into disrepair and collapsed in March.

Members of the affected communities, such as the Huinchiri, decided to rebuild the 30-meter (98.43 ft) long bridge in the traditional Incan style: by weaving it.

Members of the Huinchiri community rebuild the Qeswachaka bridge in Canas province, Peru. The bridge spans the Apurimac river. Photograph: Cusco Regional Government/Reuters

Teams of workers, starting from both sides of the ravine and balancing on giant main ropes that had been stretched over the river, worked towards the centre, putting in place smaller ropes as barriers between the handrail ropes and the walkway's floor.

"Last year because of the pandemic, it wasn't strengthened ... That is why at the beginning of this year the bridge fell," said Cusco Regional Governor Jean Paul Benavente.

"But now it is like an answer to the pandemic itself. From the depths of the Peruvian Andean identity, this bridge is strung up across the Apurimac basin and we can tell the world that we are coming out if this little by little."

Members of the Huinchiri community use traditional weaving techniques to rebuilt the hanging bridge in Canas, Peru, 13 June 2021. Photograph: Cusco Regional Government/Reuters

In 2013, Unesco recognised the skills and traditions associated to the reconstruction of the Q'eswachaka bridge as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Members of the Huinchiri community rebuild the Qeswachaka bridge using traditional weaving techniques in Canas province. Photograph: Cusco Regional Government/Reuters

"This is history. More than 500 years of a paradox in time. The Q'eswachaka, this Incan living bridge, is really an expression and cultural manifestation," added Benavente.

"This is community, in this particular case, the Huinchiri community from the Quehue district is currently working to string up this bridge that connects villages, but that also connects traditions and connects culture."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Bridge made of string: Peruvians weave 500-year-old Incan crossing back into place

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Q'eswachaka bridge connected communities divided by Apurimac river before falling into disrepair because of pandemic

# data[].attributes.headline
A Smithsonian article, looking at the ‘Oregon Trail’ video game, and how it has developed since it was first released back in the 1970s.

# data[].attributes.subject
A Smithsonian article, looking at the ‘Oregon Trail’ video game, and how it has developed since it was first released back in the 1970s.

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Ask your students to first understand what the Oregon Trail game is, what its purpose is, and how it tried to help school children explore the issue via only one perspective. How has the game developed over time, and what does that show us about: a) our understanding of indigenous peoples in North America; b) the way in which our approach to history itself has changed - and the perspective we try to see it from? What does this story suggest about our obligations to be accurate and multi-faceted when we are creating a game, a film, a book, or other art form?

KEY TERMS Perspectives and cultures, Stereotypical, Historically accurate

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, History, Technology, the arts

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
New ‘Oregon Trail’ Game Revisits Westward Expansion From Native Perspective

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Developers hired three Indigenous historians to help revamp the iconic educational computer game

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, looking at what the world can learn about conservation and trust from indigenous societies.

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, looking at what the world can learn about conservation and trust from indigenous societies.

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE Focus on ‘TEK’, and what its three elements mean. What does the article say are the key differences between indigenous and industrialized approaches to resource management? What can be learned from it? How should we balance avoiding stereotypical views of indigenous societies as being ‘at one with nature’, with a willingness to learn from them? Overall, how important is it to be willing to learn from other societies and cultures about the world - and what happens if we are not?

KEY TERMS Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK), Stereotypes, Framework to understand, Trust, Deference, Respectful, Accountable

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences, Human sciences

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A family in northern Siberia watches - but decides not to hunt - a musk ox that wandered into the area where they live. John Ziker, Author provided

Twenty-five years ago, when I was a young anthropologist working in northern Siberia, the Indigenous hunters, fishers and trappers I lived with would often stop and solemnly offer something to the tundra. It was usually small, such as coins, buttons or unlit matches. But it was considered essential. Before departing on a hunting or fishing trip, I'd be asked if I had some change in my outer coat. If I didn't, someone would get me some so it was handy. We left other gifts, too, such as fat from wild reindeer to be fed to the fire.

I was intrigued. Why do these things? Their answers were usually along the lines of, "We are the children of the tundra," or "we make these sacrifices so that tundra will give us more animals to hunt next year."

These practices are part of what I and other anthropologists call " traditional ecological knowledge." Beliefs and traditions about the natural world are central in many Indigenous cultures around the world, bringing together what industrialized cultures think of as science, medicine, philosophy and religion.

Many academic studies have debated whether Indigenous economies and societies are more oriented than others toward conservation or ecology. Certainly the idealized stereotypes many people hold about Indigenous groups' being "one with nature" are simplistic and potentially damaging to the groups themselves.

However, recent studies have underscored that conservationists can learn a lot from TEK about successful resource management. Some experts argue that traditional knowledge needs a role in global climate planning, because it fosters strategies that are "cost-effective, participatory and sustainable."

Part of TEK's success stems from how it fosters trust. This comes in many different forms: trust between community members, between people and nature, and between generations.

Defining TEK

Looking more closely at the components of TEK, the first, "tradition," is something learned from ancestors. It's handed down.

"Ecological" refers to relationships between living organisms and their environment. It comes from the ancient Greek word for "house," or "dwelling."

Finally, the earliest uses of the term "knowledge" in English refer to acknowledging or owning something, confessing something and sometimes recognizing a person's position or title. These now-obsolete meanings emphasize relationships - an important aspect of knowledge that modern usage often overlooks but that is especially important in the context of tradition and ecology.

Combining these three definitions helps to generate a framework to understand Indigenous TEK: a strategy that encourages deference for ancestral ways of dwelling. It is not necessarily strict "laws" or "doctrine," or simply observation of the environment.

TEK is a way of looking at the world that can help people connect the land they live on, their behavior and the behavior of the people they are connected to. Indigenous land practices are based on generations of careful and insightful observations about the environment and help define and promote "virtuous" behavior in it.

As an American suburbanite living in a remote community in Siberia, I was always learning about what was "proper" or "improper." Numerous times people would tell me that what I or someone else had just done was a "sin" in respect to TEK. When someone's aunt died one year, for example, community members said it happened because their nephew had killed too many wolves the previous winter.

Similarly, after stopping to assess the freshness of some reindeer tracks on the tundra, one hunter told me, "We let these local wild reindeer roam in midwinter so they will return next year and for future generations." Here, TEK spells out the potential environmental impacts of greed - which, in this case, would mean overhunting.

Concepts like these are not isolated to Siberia. Much work has been done examining the parallels among ancestral systems of deference in Siberia, Amazonia, North America and other regions.

Trust and tradition

These examples illustrate how TEK is a set of systems that promote trust through encouraging deference for ancestral ways of dwelling in the world.

Moderation of self-interested behaviors requires such trust. And confidence that the environment will provide - caribou to hunt, say, or ptarmigan birds to trap - depends on the idea that people will treat the environment in a respectful manner.

Previously, I've studied prosociality - behavior that benefits others - in northern Siberian practices of food-sharing, child care and use of hunting lands.

These aspects of life depend on the idea that the "real" owners of the natural resources are ancestors and that they punish and reward the behaviors of the living. Such ideas are encouraged by elders and leaders, who commend virtuous and prosocial behavior while connecting negative outcomes with selfishness.

Trust is an essential component of reciprocity - exchange for mutual benefit - and prosociality. Without trust, it does not make sense to take risks in our dealings with other people. Without trust we cannot cooperate or behave in nonexploitative ways, such as protecting the environment. This is why it is advantageous for societies to monitor and punish noncooperators.

Put another way, minimizing one's resource use today to make tomorrow better requires trust and mechanisms to enforce it. This is also true in larger social formations, even between nations. Groups must trust that others will not use the resources they themselves have protected or overuse their own resources.

Lessons from TEK

Today, many environmental experts are interested in incorporating learnings from Indigenous societies into climate policies. In part, this is because recent studies have shown that environmental outcomes, such as forest cover, for example, are better in Indigenous protected areas.

It also stems from growing awareness of the need to protect Indigenous peoples' rights and sovereignty. TEK cannot be "extracted." Outsiders need to show deference to knowledge-holders and respectfully request their perspective.

One idea societies can adopt as they combat climate change is the importance of trust - which can feel hard to come by these days. Young activist Greta Thunberg's " Fridays for Future " initiative, for example, highlights the ethical issues of trust and responsibility between generations.

Many outdoor enthusiasts and sustainability organizations emphasize "leaving no trace." In fact, people always leave traces, no matter how small - a fact recognized in Siberian TEK. Even footsteps compact the soil and affect plant and animal life, no matter how careful we are.

A more TEK-like - and accurate - maxim might say, "Be accountable to your descendants for the traces you leave behind."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Why the world has a lot to learn about conservation - and trust - from Indigenous societies

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Twenty-five years ago, when I was a young anthropologist working in northern Siberia, the Indigenous hunters, fishers and trappers I lived with would often stop and solemnly offer something to the tundra. It was usually small, such as coins, buttons or unlit matches. But it was considered essential.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Guardian article, arguing that indigenous peoples were shut out of the Cop26 discussions - “literally and figuratively”.

# data[].attributes.subject
A Guardian article, arguing that indigenous peoples were shut out of the Cop26 discussions - “literally and figuratively”.

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE COP26 and the environmental crisis is the big news of the last month, and there are many potential exploration points for us as TOK learners. One of them is the extent to which indigenous people should be included in - and even leading - discussions, given that their ‘ecological civilizations’ are the models for all future societal development. Why have their ideas not been listened to more? How should inclusion in the debates be decided - based on expertise? Proximity to the problem? Culpability? Should the politicians be running the show, or climate scientists? How democratic should the summit and its discussions be? To explore who is calling the shots - and who should be calling the shots - you can check out the representation issue further in the Independent, CNBC, and EcoWatch.

KEY TERMS Spin, Manipulated numbers, Glossy sponsorships, Power

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences, Politics, Human sciences

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
op26 is officially over, and my time in Glasgow almost at an end. I was at the forum to represent my community and to stand up for First Nations people who are leading global movements for climate justice. I was cautiously optimistic about what could be achieved.

Instead, at this supposedly historic event, I saw a conference that relied on dated colonial constructs and ignored Indigenous people. I watched the Australian pavilion used to promote gas and carbon capture and storage, sponsored by corporations such as Santos. Outnumbered by fossil fuel lobbyists, First Nations people witnessed an aggressive big business approach to climate negotiations, hardly the turning away from and permanent closure of extractive, polluting industries that we are all calling for.

And I saw a lot of talk. Countries said they would be ambitious, but without implementation by all governments at all levels, these are just empty words when we desperately need action.

First Nations people were locked out of discussions, and as a result for me Cop26 has failed, denying us the right and ability to safeguard our futures. Doors were closed to us, both physical and metaphorical, but as the attenders disperse and return to their homes across the world, it is essential these are opened for us.

What happens next is critical. Globally, Australia arrogantly flaunts its high ranking on the lists of countries trying to soften global commitments to climate action, and recent analysis from Cop26 showed that Australia's per capita emissions from coal power nearly doubled those of China. In fact, Australia tops the class in this field.

But politics is the name of the game and, with a federal election looming and many state elections around the country to follow, it is here that we must strike. It is essential that First Nations people have a seat at the table and that we stand together to protect our country, our home. In some cases, we'll need to just build our own tables.

Tishiko King and fellow campaigners in Glasgow for Cop26. Photograph: Supplied

More than half the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in this country are younger than 25. Increasingly, young people are leading the way in many areas of social change for our communities. Young Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people must be supported to lead the movement for climate justice and ensure our voice is heard on issues that affect us and our future.

First Nations young people see through the spin, the manipulated numbers, the glossy sponsorships, but perhaps most importantly we see the solutions. When I talk to communities they have boundless ideas for solutions to the climate crisis. Ideas that exist in the present, draw on the past and genuinely respond to the challenges communities across the country are facing. They are not just solutions for our communities but solutions that would benefit everyone.

While Cop26 failed, there is enormous power with the people. There is power in their actions, their voices, their votes

They tell us there is a need to shift away from an industrial civilisation to an ecological civilisation, in which traditional practices are embedded into everything we do, led by First Nations people.

Where they can, communities are already acting to make these changes reality. For example, in the Northern Territory, where Australia's first Indigenous youth climate network, Seed, is working with communities to protect country and water from dangerous gas fracking, communities are working to become energy self-sufficient and supply clean and cheap power with solar power and batteries. When communities have the freedom to define their own path, our people thrive, and they heal.

And when I reflect on my conversations with communities, I remember that, while Cop26 failed, there is enormous power with the people. There is power in their actions, their voices, their votes. So, while tired, I am not without hope.

I will continue to work with communities to elevate their voices and table their ideas for acting on a climate crisis which is very much already here. It's time to push doors previously closed to us open and bring others on the journey. In fact, it's time to tear those doors down all together. Because when First Nations people have a seat at the table, have a voice, have self-determination, all of our country wins.

Tishiko King is the campaigns director at Seed Mob and community organiser for Our Islands Our Home

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Empty words, no action: Cop26 has failed First Nations people | Tishiko King

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
op26 is officially over, and my time in Glasgow almost at an end. I was at the forum to represent my community and to stand up for First Nations people who are leading global movements for climate justice. I was cautiously optimistic about what could be achieved.

# data[].attributes.headline
A Conversation article, which looks at a film about indigenous stories about the night sky, and how they help us to comprehend the universe. 

# data[].attributes.subject
A Conversation article, which looks at a film about indigenous stories about the night sky, and how they help us to comprehend the universe. 

# data[].attributes.body
UNPACKING THE SOURCE This is an amazing story, bringing together stories from the world’s oldest extant culture, and the latest scientific technology and thinking. Ask students to think about the following: how does modern knowledge align with traditional practices and habits? How do stories about the night sky from very different societies and times match up? What does Steven Tingay mean when he says, “differences in race, religion, culture, politics, and society melt away with that perspective”?

KEY TERMS Indigenous stories, Common origins, Intertwined cultural and scientific perspectives

LINKS TO Indigenous societies, Natural sciences, The arts, Religion, Politics

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Have you ever looked up at the night sky and wondered what it all means? You are not alone. Billions of people before you have done the same. Looking at the stars to make sense of the universe, and our lives on Earth, extends back many tens of thousands of years, across all cultures.

A new 360 degree immersive film, Star Dreaming, set to screen around Australia and internationally, draws on our common wonder about the universe, exploring ancient culture and astrophysics, side by side.

In Australia, the world's longest continuous culture can also claim to provide some of the first astronomers. Indigenous Australians attach rich meaning to the night sky, and its connection to the land and our environment.

Also in Australia, much more recently, astrophysics has become one of the nation's most successful and prominent sciences. In Western Australia, one of the world's largest astronomy projects is being hosted, the Square Kilometre Array (SKA).

On the land of the Wajarri Yamaji people, in mid-west WA, the SKA will be the largest radio telescope ever built, detecting radio waves from galaxies forming soon after the Big Bang, 13.8 billion years ago. This massive project will be completed towards the end of this decade.

Read more: Aspiration vs delivery: the long road to the Square Kilometre Array

Over the last 13 years, I have been privileged to work with colleagues from Yamaji Art in Geraldton, exploring Indigenous stories about the sky alongside the stories of the Greeks and Romans, and the astrophysical stories about the universe. We have learned from each other and taken our experience to the world through art exhibitions.

Three years ago, we started work on Star Dreaming. It has been filmed using a 360 degree camera and is designed to be shown inside a dome, like a planetarium. Star Dreaming is an immersive experience, combining live action and CGI animation, and a unique cross-cultural exploration.

The film is a narrative, following two children from Geraldton as they discover the astrophysical story of the universe and Yamaji stories of the sky and land. Max Winton and Amangu girl Lucia Richardson make their acting debuts, as do I as "the scientist".

Filming was interesting and demanding. Over four days, we filmed prototype SKA antennas (from a drone), the landscape (including in scorching hot creek beds), and indoor sequences. The director, Perun Bonser (an Ngarluma man), Julia Redwood (producer), and cast and crew had their work cut out.

The film starts with the Big Bang, the origin of all matter and energy, space and time. We look at the life cycle of stars, and how stars produced the atoms that make up the Earth - and us. Without stars, we would not exist. We explain the speed of light, the temperatures and colours of stars, and the basics of how the SKA works.

This is interwoven with Indigenous stories, like the astonishing Emu in the Sky, which appears after dusk in March/April toward the east, appearing to sit on its nest on the horizon. This is the same time of year when real emus lay their eggs and tend to them.

When the Emu in the Sky appears, Indigenous people know it is time to hunt for the eggs. As Yamaji artist Margaret Whitehurst says in the film, "good tucker!" Margaret and fellow Yamaji artist and poet Charmaine Green lead the kids on an egg hunt, and cook up the results.

Yamaji artists Barbara and Kevin Merritt show the kids the Seven Sisters, the Indigenous story of a hunter pursuing seven sisters across the country and into the night sky - repeated every night.

Turns out, this is almost identical to an ancient story of the Greeks and Romans for this group of stars, also identified as seven sisters (the Pleiades) being chased by a hunter (Orion).

How is that cultures on opposite sides of the Earth, separated by thousands of years, arrive at the same story for the same group of stars? These are mysteries that hint at common origins.

As a scientist, I've learned so much from being with the artists and sharing our stories together. I have a much richer perspective on the universe and Indigenous culture, well beyond the night sky, as a result of our time together.

Read more: Songlines: Tracking the Seven Sisters is a must-visit exhibition for all Australians

Another Yamaji artist, Wendy Jackamarra, paints the Jewel Box, a colourful cluster of stars right next to the Southern Cross that can only be seen with a telescopes; it comes to life on the screen, as does Margaret's painting of the Emu in the Sky, and Barbara's painting of the Seven Sisters. The paintings reveal themselves through CGI, telling their stories as the different elements come together.

I've been asked, "what do you want people to take away from the film?" Of course, I want people to come away with a better understanding of Indigenous culture, and to have learned something about the science. But, to me, the film captures intertwined cultural and scientific perspectives that are common to all peoples.

The atoms in our bodies are produced in stars and scattered into space when those stars die, providing the building blocks for planets and life. For many millennia, humans have sat under the night sky and watched all this unfold, our different cultural stories underpinned by our common sense of wonder.

Differences in race, religion, culture, politics, and society melt away with that perspective. We all experience a shared sky, a common origin.
Star Dreaming is screening at the WA Maritime Museum in Fremantle, WA. Keep an eye out for it in major cities and planetaria across Australia before the end of 2021. In 2022 it will be screened around the world. All aspects of the film and the project, including its name, were derived from consultations and formal sign-off between the Indigenous participants, Prospero Productions, and the scientists.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How making a film exploring Indigenous stories of the night sky enriched my perspective as a scientist

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A new 3D film follows two children as they discover the astrophysical story of the universe and Yamaji stories of the sky and land. Making it was an extraordinary cross-cultural experience.