Building on Tradition Bringing Age-Old Indigenous Practices to the Modern City for a Cleaner, Greener Future Catherine P. Economopoulos University ...
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Building on Tradition
Bringing Age-Old Indigenous Practices to the Modern City for a Cleaner,
Greener Future
Catherine P. Economopoulos
University of Toronto School of Cities
Sustainable Cities
June 2021
Copyright © 2021 by Catherine P. Economopoulos
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or
used in any manner without written permission of the copyright
owner except for the use of quotations in a review.
FIRST EDITION
www.economopoulos.net
Contents
Title Page 1
Contents 3
Abstract 4
Building on Tradition
Preface 5
Knowing 7
Taking 12
Giving 17
Epilogue 24
References 27
Appendices
Appendix 1: Glossary 30
Appendix 2: Policy Briefs 33
Appendix 3: Other Resources 35
Acknowledgements 36
Abstract The global climate crisis has brought widespread attention to the use and abuse of resources worldwide. As general scientific consensus trends towards the notion that time is running out, significant inaction by public institutions leaves responsibility in the hands of academics and voluntary participants to overturn current dire circumstances. This body of work explores sustainability through the lens of Indigenous tradition, and infers upon the efficacy of large-scale uptake of traditional ecological knowledge (known as TEK) throughout Turtle Island at each level of applicability. Old-growth forestry, seed practices, water reuptake, and general silviculture are discussed as significant tools in building this unified, cleaner world. The information amassed indicates a possibility of success, albeit one that is contingent upon a broad approach with key components lying in social immersion and strategic education. Such a resolution relies on mutual beneficence for the communities supplying environmental guidance, in ways outlined by Indigenous communities themselves. In placing emphasis on Indigenous testimony, rather than quantitative data, public engagement will see opportunities for regeneration and increased rates of green literacy. Components of future propositions must be situated in adequate outreach efforts, integration of varied education sources, and foremost of all, a proclivity for respect that has historically been absent in said discussions.
Section I: Preface
As inhabitants of the earth, each of us are compelled by the thoughts and actions of our
peers, our relatives, our heroes, to live “well”. Such a subjective goal is inherently unattainable,
and in its pursuit, we encounter countless obstacles that grow to define relationships of all kinds.
By examining any society as a set of complex relationships, divisions arise that define our own
experiences. Whether between humans and land, colonizers and colonized, nature and
architecture, even parents and children, interactions and teachings present a negotiation of power
that must be recognized and accounted for in academic discourse. This work’s validity hinges on
the roles of sociocultural relationships and is motivated by the impending challenges those
connections have incurred in practice. As an immigrant to Turtle Island twice over (first as a
daughter of Greek immigrants to the United States, and again to Kanata for university), my
relationship to this place is not tainted by the ancestral traumas that Aboriginal peoples endured,
just as my ancestry is not corrupted by the perpetrators of those heinous crimes. The land,
nonetheless, is where I work, live, and play today, and I have inherited the duty to protect and
restore it in any way I can.
A modern life on Turtle Island teaches many things, not all of them true. I have learned
of conquistadors who blessed the lands they stole, and saved the people they destroyed. I have
learned of corporations that spread the prosperity they hoarded and invested the resources they
stole. But, I have also learned of cultures that proliferated their blessings and communities that
protected their dependents. I found warnings of a changing climate and a crumbling selfish
empire, and a future left to my generation to untangle together. As I was introduced to
Indigenous culture, what struck a young academic of my background most was the emphasis on
those complex defining relationships that are absent in capitalist ideology. Indigeneity is so
closely tied to sustainability that the modern state of these lands seems unfathomable-- oil spills,
wildfires, mass extinctions which would not have existed under the reign of the original
landowners. For over 20,000 years, cultures thrived in tandem with the natural world that hosted
and protected them. In just 400 more, settlers have desecrated those places, now unrecognizable,
and brought countless communities to their knees.
If the truest purpose of sustainability is longevity, then 20,000 years of life is an
unmistakable success. To protect the land is to protect the life there. Modern shortcomings in
ecology, revitalization, and preservation, then, beg the question: why rely on innovation when
success has been achieved before?
I was once told of a prophecy of the Cree people that said,
“When all the trees have been cut down,
when all the animals have been hunted,
when all the waters are polluted,
when all the air is unsafe to breathe,
only then will you discover you cannot eat money.”
Rather than fear the day humans force their hand and see the fulfilment of this prophecy,
I’ve devoted this body of work towards a human-Earth revival. My intentions are fuelled by the
pursuit of absolution, justice, and reparation for a bountiful world and a unified humanity.
Testimonial and scientific evaluation stand side by side through my research because of their
codependency in these uncharted waters future generations will approach. Additionally, one of
the greatest barriers to environmental literacy is a lack of access to a thorough and diverse
arsenal of educational sources. Accessible language, visual aids, and inclusive perspectives are
tools by which we can radicalize education and create momentum in the age of Internet activism.
European professionalism has become the academic standard, but by honouring a more personal
approach that lies at the core of Indigenous bodies of knowledge, I hope to bridge the gap
between academia and the general public. Where this project may seem unconventional, it goes
hand in hand with a new approach to environmental justice. My greatest hope is that these
efforts do effect change -- that by teaching just one aspiring conservationist about traditional
practice, or by overturning just one discriminatory policy on Turtle Island -- someday systems
will be easily maintained and unified under the protection of the only Earth we will ever have.
Section II: Knowing
The act of learning is one wrought with nuance. Knowledge is dynamic and complex,
bias is ever-present. Societies far and wide teach their young, building schools and writing
books, all of varying intentions -- sometimes knowingly using propaganda and misinformation to
propagate a certain power dynamic. Yet, to learn is, at its very core, to incite growth. Critical
thinking and inference are the tools of discovery, and become crucial for those who wish to grow
themselves. Since colonizers came to Turtle Island, the knowns and unknowns of the land have
inverted themselves. When a group knows only self-preservation, and will stop at nothing to do
so, the freedom to appreciate gifts (a core tenant of Indigenous sustainability) dissipates. Thus,
the powerful entities that propel pollution today continue the vicious, thankless cycle of not only
desecrating the earth, but restraining entire communities in the process. This downward spiral
continues today-- when First Nations youth are presented with barriers to knowledge, their
opportunities to contribute in academic settings become practically nonexistent, especially in a
society which so highly values the biased and broken education system.
With only 19 studies published between 1993 and 2016 on the trends present in Native
American education (compared to hundreds of research endeavours on Black students in the
same period) it becomes clear that students from these backgrounds are nearly invisible in
academia, and thus their voices are missing in influential fields of research.1 The role models
present, whether in media or in academics, are relatively homogenized; although in some
instances other minorities have seen rising representation in postsecondary education, the
overwhelming majority remains white, and as such perpetuates Eurocentric ideals and teachings.2
1
Craig Marroquin. "The Validation of the North American Indigenous College Students Inventory (NAICSI)."
Journal of American Indian Education. (2020): 77.
2
: U.S. Dept. of Education, National Center for Education Statistics, “Public School Teacher Data File,” 2003–04;
and National Teacher and Principal Survey (NTPS), 2015–16.Even in childhood and the early teen years, an abundance of white instructors shapes how future
decision-makers navigate relationships with the earth, their peers, and their own potential to
effect change in a unique way.3 Role
models, especially at this stage, affect
far more than cognitive skills. The
social changes occurring at this time
go on to dictate a student’s
disposition on a plethora of topics--
behavioral tendencies, cultural
sensitivities, ecological awareness, et cetera-- all of which become signifiers of how that student
may tackle issues such as climate change in their future.4 For the teen who sees diverse role
models and hears diverse perspectives, there will be a worldliness that informs their decisions;
non-Indigenous youth will attain a deeper comprehension of the intentions behind conservation
practices, thus affording opportunities to integrate preservation to daily life and foster
collaboration which, in and of itself, can grow cultural sensitivity and be of mutual benefit to the
next generation5. For the teen who learns a narrow, whitewashed curriculum, ignorance sees
opportunities to blossom into prejudice, and as such repeats itself, continuing a cycle of waste,
destruction, and broken ecological ties.6
Even in popular media, the image of Indigeneity that is propagated remains outdated and
biased. There are few, if any, praises to the inherent beauty and opportunity of their human-Earth
relationships that attain traction. Common tropes paint ingenious building practices as primitive,
3
See Appendix 2
4
Kelly Bird-Naytowhow. “Ceremonies of Relationship: Engaging Urban Indigenous Youth in Community-Based
Research.” International Journal of Qualitative Methods, (2017): 9-10.
5
Ibid.
6
Anonymous, "Indigeneity: A CPS History," interview by author, 2021.or minimize agricultural conventions, for the mere fact that they do not exaggerate need, thus
preserving the land rather than farming it barren.7 The fantasy of Christian power and
Europeanization pervades the modern image of Indigenous cultures, with nothing to take its
place even in the 21st century.
The power of knowledge is clear in examination of one of the greatest injustices
perpetrated by colonizers in Kanata: the residential school. When a powerful group weaponizes
learning, entire generations-- their teachings, their power, their aptitude for good-- is seized and
manipulated for years to come. In these so-called schools, rather than science, language, and
compassion, students learned backbreaking labour, anglicized mannerisms, and most
importantly, to forget who they truly were-- people of the earth. The final residential school
closed in 1996; its remaining victims (that is, survivors of the nearly 60% mortality rate) still
circulate today, though a great deal of their past has been lost.8 The intergenerational trauma
present in Indigenous communities occupies the chasms left by stolen knowledge, stolen
heritage, and stolen teachings. Firsthand accounts by today’s Indigenous youth suggest that
many of these lost traditions held the key to living well on the land’s limited resources, often in
the form of stories, songs, teachings, and myths. Among Oji-Cree youth in Tkaronto, the gaps
left by residential schools must now be filled in order to restore an ethically sound relationship,
not only with the lands and waters, but with the pasts of their ancestors as well.9 In an interview
with Ms. Lua Mondor, a young femme with roots in both Oji-Cree and Inuit teachings, a pair of
earrings stating KWE10 were an indirect symbol of gratitude. The Anishinaabemowin term, is a
calling to a timeless relationship between the human woman and water, another gift from the
7
Winkfield, Burnham and Freitas, Female American, (2014).
8
John Borrows, "Residential Schools, Respect, and Responsibilities for past Harms," University of Toronto Law
Journal 64, no. 4 (2014): doi:10.3138/utlj.2499, p.500)
9
Lua Mondor, "Sustainable Teachings of Oji-Cree and Inuit Tradition," telephone interview by author, (2021).
10
See Appendix 1world. Mondor received teachings of a mutual reflection between nature and humans -- women,
in Oji-Cree communities, carried the water that brought life.11 For those who believe in the
generosity of nature’s waters, there is no room for pollution, a great disrespect both within and
without the human body.
Mondor’s Inuit knowledge also speaks of borrowing with a great air of respect. Again,
water becomes key. One of the only remaining teachings not lost to the horrors endured at
residential schools is centred around the sacred killing of nattiq, the ringed seal. To kill a nattiq
was to take responsibility for the consequences of hunting, and water-based traditions signified
the release of its soul, followed by responsible consumption of all it had to give.12 Filling the
animal’s mouth with (the oft-sparse) resource of freshwater was pure generosity which served to
quench the nattiq’s thirst. Knowing the intentions behind the action holds an equal significance
to the resources received from the act -- a quintessential summation of ecological gratitude. For
modern students of tradition, this action may not necessarily be significant in practice, but to say
there are no applications of the principles would be to minimize the knowledge itself.
Even across the plethora of cultures that make up modern Indigeneity, there are far more
interpretations of water than can be covered in one student’s basic education, but the benefits of
spreading some of this classic knowledge would be unfathomable. For Anishinaabe-Ojibwe
academic John Borrows, water teaches forgiveness. As the word aabawaa13 relates to
aabawaawendom14, the weather holds its own teachings, spoken through the language of his
ancestors. From these stories, he speaks of forgiveness as “a warming trend in a relationship”,
because “forgiveness, like the clearing of early spring mists, does not occur in an instant. Heat
11
Lua Mondor, "Sustainable Teachings of Oji-Cree and Inuit Tradition," telephone interview by author, (2021).
12
Ibid.
13
See Appendix 1
14
See Appendix 1and the warmth need to be applied through a sustained period of time for mists to clear. Clarity
of vision takes a while to develop as spring mists do not dissipate immediately.”15 This patient
outlook inspired by water is timeless, and could work wonders today. As climates change and
the same rivers that once inspired these teachings now grow murky, a crucial turning point
approaches: how will the human race use the wisdom available to reverse these tragedies, and
will justice be served to both land and people in the process?
Reparations cannot be paid without first acknowledging diversity of perspective, and
many insights are simply too valuable to take for granted.
15
John Borrows, Address (Craddock Lecture delivered at Bloor St United Church, 12 January 2014).Section III: Taking
For the Potawatomi, acquisition is a two-sided effort. Should one need to gather plants,
taking from the generosity of the land, never could they neglect to replenish the land. To take is
to owe, and it’s taught that debts are easily paid with gracious, attentive, and respectful actions.
When gathering, teachings suggest that taking more than half would be to endanger the fellow
forms of life dependent on those same lands.1 Indigenous youth in modern cities such as
Tkaronto may never need to gather rice or leeks, but the consensus that one’s humanity does not
equal entitlement to land remains steadfast.2 The lack of hierarchy among life forms is a concept
present in a number of teachings from a number of communities, and it informs cultural notions
about selfishness that are crucial to daily life.
In a capitalist landscape such as that which has grown on Turtle Island, greed and hubris
imbue nearly all values and interactions. Protecting one’s own interests means sacrificing the
needs of others, even the earth which provides all. This very attitude has seen the fall of the
natural symbiosis that Indigenous groups preserved for countless millennia. Certain modern
defenses of a surplus-oriented system refer to the limited resources available as an inevitability,
teaching that capitalism builds up those under it and supports a healthier planet.3 Such claims
and studies are often constructed by those benefiting under the current system -- overwhelmingly
white, upper-middle class or wealthy, male -- and choose statistics which may be misleading or
falsified in order to propagate the level of trust which allows the system to continue to function
unchecked. These statements are dangerous in that they incentivize readers to pursue their own
1
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 182. 2013.
2
Anonymous, "Indigeneity: A CPS History," interview by author, 2021.
3
Ibid.needs and wants above all others, and to grab what they may in hopes of achieving egotistical
successes, often at the cost of the earth.
When taking continues at such a rampant rate as it has across Turtle Island (and by
extension, across the world), only then do the manufactured scarcities that are claimed to be
inevitable begin to appear. Thousands of years ago, when Ojibwe gathering taught restraint in
taking, any food shortage was known to pass, when the soil renewed itself with the remaining
seeds and animals that had found enough to eat;4 droughts were few and far between, as
well-tended soils allowed water to percolate unimpeded.5 Today, the same communities which
sustained themselves without taking too much have been taken from by the very same capitalist
greed which swore to benefit its inhabitants: artificial food deserts and polluted waterways are
caused by the actions of the elite, their consequences cast onto the only communities committed
to reciprocity.6 In Lake Onondaga, where Potawatomi have fished for countless generations,
summer days now bring the stench of rotting fish as they wash ashore from the murky waters.7
Botanist and citizen of the Potawatomi nation, Robin Wall Kimmerer, remarks on studies of the
effects of avaricious resource acquisition in her scientific memoir “Braiding Sweetgrass”; in her
technical account of Lake Onondaga, the once fruitful waters revealed great quantities of
“cadmium, barium, chromium, cobalt, lead, benzene, chlorobenzene, assorted xylenes,
pesticides, and PCBS. Not many insects and not many fish.”8 These chemicals, in no ecosystem
naturally occurring, represent the overwhelming gluttony which chokes the fragile balance of life
in self-restoring habitats everywhere.
4
Kruse-Peeples, Native Seeds, 2016.
5
Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Weaving…” 2002.
6
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 316. 2013.
7
Ibid.
8
Ibid.When taking whitefish from this riverbed was synonymous to preserving it, its
benefactors received far more than food and freshwater -- it became a family heirloom.
Countless peoples teach that to revere what is given by the earth is to use it in its entirety, as the
children who swam along its once-clean banks knew well.9 In the world’s cities, such an outlook
would not impede the growth that communities seek; rather, keeping future generations at the
forefront would be the first -- and hardest -- step to take towards a balanced human-planet
relationship.
Those countless, wise instructions that advised Indigenous consumption hold the key for
an improved modern urban landscape. Though a changing world has altered ties to land,
reciprocity is still owed for those who rely on those resources-- there is much to be learned in the
methodologies of long-standing tradition. This merit lies in an undeniable understanding of
ecological processes, a sort of environmental literacy that guides decisions made in these
communities. From a young age, a sixth sense is introduced that instructs any action taken in the
interest of self-preservation. The difference between sustainable and transient change is
mindfulness. Indigenous youth are governed by a mutual sense of duty and care, just as many
non-Indigenous youth; the disparities lie in intention, which can only be cultivated through a
steadfast moral compass around what the children of the earth are owed.
Another complex obstacle that lies in taking stands between what opposing cultures take
from each other. In the age of Internet activism, performative actions and appropriation create a
minefield for those who wish to self-educate. In personal interviews with a group of Ojibwe
youth, over 40% had a friend or relative who had taken steps to spread knowledge about their
cultures (either virtually or at the local level) and nearly 100% agreed that BIPOC educators and
content creators were the best source from which to learn such topics. “For those who wish to do
9
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 317. 2013.better than their ancestors,” one student noted, “you must ensure to break the cycle of taking
without offering in return.” Tribal Trade Co. is one local service for those in Tkaronto; touting
options as an “Alternative and Holistic Health Service” and an entirely Indigenous team, they
offer Indigenous teachings workshops, apparel, and tips on cultural sensitivity for
non-Indigenous groups to learn while offering something in return.10
Other opportunities to rectify what has been taken are endless, and encourage
attentiveness. Stolen land is the most well-known of the spoils and holds the most monetary
value, especially as overcrowding skyrockets and resources continue to dwindle. But, for most,
landback movements have brought
little of substance in the way of
reparations. As shown here, most
national efforts regarding Indigenous
land actually function against its
rightful ownership.11 Individual
actions bring few success stories, but
remain more lucrative than
large-scale efforts. This is the
hallmark of a residual attitude of entitlement, one that calls for a self-preserving attitude towards
taking, and leaves little room for a departure from what is considered to be the norm.
Repatriations often stem from individual education, and a desire to rectify what had been taken
through informed recourse.
10
See Appendix 3.
11
"Mine Sweeper Map - Land Back: A Yellowhead Institute Red Paper" 2021.In Neligh, Nebraska, the restoration of 160 acres of Ponca land came as an unexpected
gift -- the farmland of Art and Helen Tanderup who, upon learning the path of the Trail of Tears,
chose to right the wrongs of their ancestors with the heirloom farm. Thus, the land was protected
against development for the Keystone XL Pipeline, in addition to a total rehabilitation of the
damaged soil.12 As a mutually beneficial transfer, this instance stands to be one of the few
successful reflections of reciprocity by non-Indigenous people. This case study is a monument
to the power of education, that is, if it is used to give back independently of its acquisition.
For modern Indigenous educators, teaching is the centre of eradicating a greed-driven
mindset. If taking lies behind one’s actions, there are few concerns of limited supply or eventual
consequence. One educator claims that the environment offers the first lessons of give and take,
writing, “Of all the wise teachers who have come into my life, none are more eloquent than
these” in reference to companion planting practices that “embody the knowledge of
relationship”.13 Whether in theory or practice, approaches to resource use must hinge on these
particular teachings to ensure moderated impact for the future.
12
For more information, consult Economopoulos, Presentation. 2021.
13
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 140, 2013.Section IV: Giving
The technical conventions of Indigenous resource management are well-documented by
anthropologists and historians today (often referred to as TEK1), but in circles of discussion that
are exclusionary to Aboriginal peoples, biased language and outdated terminology often interfere
with the uptake of invaluable knowledge and build into frameworks that perpetuate
discriminatory attitudes.2 TEK is multidisciplinary and widespread, spanning practices such as
seed-keeping, silviculture, irrigation, land management,
biomimicry, waste management, flood mitigation, carbon
sequestration, the list goes on. Though many of these have been
independently developed to support the modern resource use
frameworks across Turtle Island, they vary considerably from
the original methodology, and as such, often fail to attain similar
results. Perhaps the most famous instance of TEK, taught even in primary school curriculums
today, is the notion of the Three Sisters3: a high-yield Iroquois agricultural triad of beans, corn,
and squash which supports soil health through biodiversity and protects against pests, disease,
and erosion.4 This triad stands as proof of a crucial theme for modern researchers -- it proves an
in-depth comprehension of symbiotic relationships and nutrient cycling developed hundreds of
years before the modern colonizer sciences5. More than just a cultural custom, the Three Sisters
1
TEK is used as an acronym for traditional ecological knowledge (See also, Kimmerer “Weaving…” 2002).
2
This is in reference to language featured in educational materials that mischaracterizes customs as primitive,
uninformed, or even barbaric. Instances can be found especially within the “ecological savage” or “ecologically
noble indian” debate, which will not be discussed here due to its extremely racist and ad hominem nature. These
themes hold no academic merit and the few pro-TEK studies are prehensile without offering in return.
3
For planting resources, see Appendix 3.
4
Kruse-Peeples, Native Seeds, 2016.
5
Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Weaving…” 2002.are a monument to refined agricultural morphologies and speak to the technological
developments of the Iroquois and all Indigenous peoples.
Beyond these operations lies another significant facet to TEK: gratitude and respect.
Again in the Three Sisters, just one tradition proves the presence of even more dimensions to be
explored. The myth behind the Sisters speaks of three sisters, who stood together in a field --
one small and dressed in green, one who loved to run and was shrouded in yellow, and one who
stood tall and proud in the wind. One by one, a strong young man comes to survey the land, and
with each visit, one of the three sisters disappears. By his third visit, the sisters find themselves
reunited at his home, safe again with one another. They provide for the young man and his
family just as he provided for them, honouring their bond so they may never be split up again.6
This legend embodies a crucial principle, without which these practices are essentially
meaningless: to consider the earth as one’s equal is to extend grace for its offerings. Only when
freely giving respect and admiration can a society trust that their efforts will continue to yield
plentifully. In an interview with the students of one Chicago public school, this myth was not
taught in tandem with the Three Sisters practice.7 Although the agricultural tradition was
explained from a historical point of view, the non-Indigenous instructor neglected to expound
upon its moral significance, with one student inferring that “it seemed obsolete” as a result of
such minimal discussion.8
In praxis, these concepts were at the core of Indigenous life. To give such knowledge
during core developmental periods was to defend the coexistence of science and moral
obligation, especially under spirituality and community values. Returning to the tale of the
6
The legend appears in many forms in Cherokee, Haudenosaunee, and Iroquois tradition among others, but is
recounted here as told by a Citizen of the Oneida Nation
7
Anonymous, "Indigeneity: A CPS History," interview by author, 2021.
8
Ibid.nattiq9, time has characterized ethical animal consumption in favour of traditional practice. For
the thousands of years during which Inuit managed the lands and waters of the nattiq, scarcity
never developed. In limiting consumption during periods of concern and maximizing yield from
each individual animal10, the natural population levels seldom indicated any overuse to
jeopardize natural food chains. By studying, predicting, and integrating the natural ebb and flow
of a species, Inuit customs adopted one of the earlier forms of biomimicry as a tool for
population control. These thousands of years have been negated, and since 1993, the species has
been classified as endangered. Today, capitalist meat-cultivation hinges not on this unification of
human and animal needs, but rather flourishes under a total seizure of the means of meat
production and a monopoly upon organic patterns of reproduction.11 In this practice, fatal flaws
lie in the give-and-take, or rather, the lack thereof.
Research spearheaded by Indigenous academics indicates the rapid decline of nattiq
populations and similar species, as shown below. The alarming lack of government conservation
efforts for this sacred animal suggest a possibility of extinction efforts that can be combated by
unified effort. Recent work by a diverse team at CSP Arctic Science speaks to realistic
possibilities of adapting conventional practices (e.g. inland water habitation) for modern
conservation, but these claims have yet to see any uptake among conservation efforts.12
9
See appendix 1.
10
B. P. Kelly et al. 2010.
11
Gryba et al. 2021
12
Ibid.For the natural shelter of the planet -- the forest -- there are trends which again suggest
strong correlations between ecological longevity and a benevolent cultural mindset. At the heart
of Indigenous silviculture lies a great recognition. For many native peoples whose ancestry has
been desecrated by colonization, the very land is a symbol of long-standing generational
inheritance. Ancient trees which stood since the era before colonization still stand today, giving
life to all the land’s inhabitants alike. The histories of Indigeneity stand in Turtle Island’s forests,
preserved with dignity for centuries. Modern Indigenous youth have kept this imperative
attitude, fighting for rightful care of a dying breed of old-growth forestry.13 Braiding Sweetgrass
dissects dangers to the honoured wisgak14 species, namely invasive Asian species such as the
emerald ash borer, and their subsequent interference with sacred cultural basketweaving
practices.15 The majority of its influence lies in forests
around nayaano-nibiimaang gichigamiin,16 where
old-growth forests were the heart of community efforts.
Even now, as this beetle’s rapid population resurgence
continues,17 mixed-background research teams pursue
data using age-old methodologies: fallen log retrieval
and ring evaluation, both of which employ minimal
damage to the remaining populations.18 The federally-funded research fulfills only one use of
TEK, especially with prospects growing more bleak for those who swore to protect these
relationships with the land and its gifts. John Pigeon, one of the basketmakers spearheading
13
See Appendix 3.
14
See Appendix 1.
15
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 147-151.
16
See Appendix 1.
17
Angie Pigeon et al. 2018.
18
This Potawatomi practice was guided by basket-weavers in the local Match-E-Be-Nash-She-Wish Band, near an
infestation hotspot. Further information can be found in Pigeon et al., 2018.conservation efforts with his wife Angie, comments upon the moral element of these efforts,
speaking from traditional knowledge. “You can’t take something without giving back. This tree
takes care of us, so we have to take care of it.”19
These trees, just as all plants used for weaving, raise issues of energy conservation, if not
directly. When searching to give back, modern conservationists often condemn taking as a
practice unrelated to basic needs. To consume nature is characterized as an exercise in greed,
rather than a partnership. Although Indigenous cultures, as explored, do maintain a measured
approach to resource expenditure, there is room for cultural consumption practices, when
undertaken with the ever-present notion of gratitude. The following passage explores
Potawatomi wisdom on what is known as the Honorable Harvest.
“The Honorable Harvest does not ask us to photosynthesize. It does not say don’t
take, but offers inspiration and a model for what we should take. It’s not so much
a list of ‘do not’s’ as a list of ‘do’s’. Do eat food that is honorably harvested, and
celebrate every mouthful. Do use technologies that minimize harm; do take what
is given. This philosophy guides not only our taking of food, but also any taking
of the gifts of Mother Earth -- air, water, and the literal body of the earth: the
rocks and soil and fossil fuels.”20
This encapsulates why consumers must listen to the land which provides for their
interests; a harvest is not only the act of acquiring gifts of sustenance, but also the process
of gathering up what reciprocity may yield, in all its forms.
To recognize that humans are not the only inheritors (or issuers) of these gifts
plays an equally important role. In the union between buffalo and grass, a botanical
concept that is rampant in TEK lies present: compensatory growth. This theme, although
19
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 150.
20
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 186.relatively new to modern horticulture21, was relied upon by harvesting cultures across
Turtle Island. These peoples understood, through careful observation, that when a herd
of buffalo consumed grass and moved on (“obeying the rule of not taking more than
half”22, another instance of biomimicry), the plants would recover at an accelerated
growth rate; this was discovered to be a biological evolutionary reaction to an enzyme
produced in the saliva of grazing buffalo.23 The same relationship remains present
between native communities and growth of the sacred wiingaashk.24 After consistent
periods of this codependence, concentration maps indicate that plants which have evolved
to undergo compensatory growth often perish in the absence of their synergistic
partners.25 This speaks volumes to how humans as consumers may become an important
part of an ecosystem, rather than its operators. Although there remains a perceived
control in the hands of those who dictate resource use, these patterns suggest an
inevitable downfall, ensuring a mutual destruction of both human and earth.
The bodies of knowledge around TEK are endless, and no individual process
holds the key to sustainable living. Although the scientific evidence for each technique
lies in the indisputable results (meaning the long-sustained human-earth accord that
existed before catalysts present in colonial doctrine), two remaining barriers to TEK
application lie in the extensive knowledge loss caused by colonialist cultural erasure, and
in biased capital endowments. Studies are issued to confirm and reconfirm the validity of
Indigenous ecological conclusions, wasting immeasurable time and resources.26 As both
21
This theme’s earliest definition in ecological literature is cited to be around 1955, but mentions are found in
Indigenous legends spanning over 1000 years. More information can be found
22
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 164.
23
Ibid.
24
See Appendix 1.
25
Daniela Shebitz and Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2004.
26
Colin J. Torney et al. 2018.these things continue to dwindle, researchers must stand to employ TEK by the standards of the peoples who developed it, establishing trust in order to continue giving in a world that has been geared only to take.
Section V: Epilogue
In the unending fight against ecological decline and sociocultural fragmentation, statistics
and facts only go so far. This body of research, though founded on the knowledge of Indigeneity
and credited in its best interests, does not fully constitute action for morally-viable green
activism. During research, one of the more significant conclusions that appeared was related not
to TEK practices themselves, but the ways in which they were sustained; for these Indigenous
communities, environmental literacy was not the elite academic pursuit it has become today. By
prioritizing the intention behind action, and ensuring an early, accessible, and thorough education
for their youth (often through customary teachings and practice), many peoples instilled a sixth
sense, if you will, in the next generation. That sixth sense governed the Earth-human symbiosis
in a way that worked to preserve both ends in a tenable manner.
Now that the damage has been done, opportunities of progress come at a price. To act
quickly would be to mitigate that cost, to reduce what is jeopardized by restoration efforts, but
for those with power, time is not of the essence. In the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer,
“restoring a habitat, no matter how well intentioned, produces casualties. We set ourselves up as
arbiters of what is good when often our standards of goodness are driven by narrow interests, by
what we want.”1 By this teaching, the balance between oneself and one’s environment is
acknowledged. A course of action is not led by goodness if that goodness is borne from
self-preservation alone. Rather, those decisions must be led by a wide-scale consciousness -- one
that societies cultivate from a young age and establish with longevity in mind. TEK, at its core,
is the amalgamation of this cultivated attitude and its eventual action. But, if these positive
1
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 92, 2013.attitudes do hold such power, then their negative counterparts do the same. Hopelessness and
despair are not the path to justice; they hinder a unified human race from fulfilling restorative
balance. Again, Kimmerer writes “environmental despair is a poison every bit as destructive as
the methylated mercury in the bottom of Onondaga Lake”2. To save those who suffer from these
missteps, we must act, and soon, for sustainability.
If sustainability, as a guiding principle, should be achieved through TEK, its success
would be entirely hinged on a corresponding success for Indigenous peoples across Turtle Island,
and subsequently worldwide. If any lessons are to be learned from the centuries of needless
decay caused by colonialist greed, it is that the only impossibility under capitalism would be to
grow both the resources and their benefactors endlessly, without harm falling to someone.
In small communities, change begins with teaching generative lessons. Accessible
datasets support curiosity in individuals from all walks of life. This particular body of research
was intended to lend itself to an incoming generation, and to supply a spark by which they can
forge tools to save the future. The most-discussed lesson throughout this gathered data was a
prophecy -- that of the Seven Fires.
This prophecy has been given second light with the teachings of Eddie Benton-Banai and
Indigenous youth who walk Turtle Island as the people of the Seventh Fire today.3 It speaks of
epochs that came and went, bringing times of trouble and prosperity alike. Six times through,
prophecies came to pass and became histories, spanning centuries for the Anishinaabe. The
legend says that during the time of the Seventh Fire, the choices will lead humans down one of
two paths: one that lies scorched and barren, threatening the land and its people, or the path of
reciprocity, which is forged in brotherhood and respect.4 At the heart of the prophecy, we must
2
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 328, 2013.
3
Winona LaDuke, 2016.
4
"Mawqatmuti’Kw” 2012. Ikanawtiket.Ca.acknowledge that, beyond one’s spiritual beliefs, it signifies a critical chance for salvation. Time and time again in the past four centuries of Western colonialism, oppressors have proven a disregard for the future. Yet, that disregard does not negate the present reality we face -- if we walk into the Seventh fire, armed with knowledge and solidarity, only then may these teachings save the planet, saving our brothers and sisters of every walk of life alike.
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Bird-Naytowhow, Kelley, Andrew R. Hatala, Tamara Pearl, Andrew Judge, and Erynne Sjoblom.
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Borrows, John. “Address”. Craddock Lecture, Bloor St. United Church. 12 January 2014.
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Economopoulos, Catherine P. "Building On Tradition: Bringing Age-Old Indigenous Practices
To The Modern City For A Cleaner, Greener Future". Presentation, University of Toronto
School of Cities Research Symposium, 26 June 2021.
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The Adventures Of Unca Eliza Winkfield. 2nd ed. Canada: Broadview Editions.Appendix 1: Glossary
The following terminology is often uncommon to colonial dialects, and rather belongs to
Indigenous local vocabularies. As this work seeks to both inform the general public and dissolve
current imposed structures, certain significant nomenclature will belong to the initial names
given by Indigenous peoples. Although the diverse set of languages produce a number of terms
used for any one noun, select dialects have been consulted for consistency. These terms are
defined below, and the language of their origin is denoted after the definition. Spellings may
vary between transliterations.
Aabawaa: “When cold and warm air masses intermingle, causing fine mists to rise over
the earth, the Ojibwe use the word aabawaa to describe this phenomenon. This often
occurs in the later winter or early spring. At these moments, winter starts to loosen her
grip on the land. The snows melt and waters start to flow. Sap can begin running through
the trees as nature prepares to nurture new life”1 (Anishinaabemowin)
Aabawaawendam: Forgiveness; “A state of being warmer and milder towards another”2
(Anishinaabemowin)
Anishinaabemowin: The Ojibwe language; the most common Indigenous language of the
Great Lakes Basin
Anishinaabewi-gichigami: Lake Superior (Anishinaabemowin)
Beweiieskwinuk: Cattail; literally meaning “we wrap the baby in it” (Potawatomi)
Iroquoian: The language family of 16 modern dialects spoken across Turtle Island
(including Mohawk, Cayuga, Seneca, and Cherokee); Also refers to the proto-language of
Iroquoian from which these subdivisions arose
Ininwewi-gichigami: Lake Michigan (Anishinaabemowin)
Inuktitut: The Inuit language; often spoken in the north of Turtle Island
Kanata: A settlement or village; the origin of the name “Canada” (Iroquoian)
1
John Borrows, Address (Craddock Lecture delivered at Bloor St United Church, 12 January 2014).
2
Ibid.Note: Indigenous languages do not often refer to the nation of Canada as a unit and rather
recognize Turtle Island as a whole. In the text, Kanata is used to pay homage to the
etymological origins of the word when referring to the modern land occupation
Kwe: Woman; also a 2-spirit, femme individual (Anishinaabemowin)
Lenape: An Indigenous people native to modern-day Delaware, speakers of an Iroquoian
descendant language from which many myths were derived
Miigwech: Thank you (Anishinaabemowin)
Mshkodewashk: Sage, specifically in reference to the white sage species native to Turtle
Island (Potawatomi)
Naadowewi-gichigami: Lake Huron (Anishinaabemowin)
Nattiq: Common term for seal; often in reference to the ringed seal (Inuktitut)
Nayaano-nibiimaang Gichigamiin: The Great Lakes (Anishinaabemowin)
Niigaani-gichigami: Lake Ontario (Anishinaabemowin)
Potawatomi: The language of the Potawatomi people; shares a recent linguistic ancestor
with Anishinaabemowin
Tkaronto: Trees standing in the water; the origin of the name Toronto (Mohawk)
Turtle Island: North America; derived from the myth of an ancient turtle which held the
world upon its back. Used by most Indigenous cultures, regardless of language (Lenape)
Waabishkiigoo-gichigami: Lake Erie (Anishinaabemowin)
Waabanong: East; the direction to which many cultures orient themselves rather than
North as set by European standards
Wiingaashk: Sweetgrass (Potawatomi)
Wisgak: Black elm tree (Potawatomi)Appendix 2: Relevant Policy Briefs Document 1: Environmental Literacy across Sociocultural Borders
Document 2: Companion Planting
Appendix 3: Other Resources
The following resources are run by Indigenous peoples of various backgrounds in support of
public education and can be used in reference for further engagements.
Changing Woman Initiative
Green food sourcing, community health, women’s support
http://www.changingwomaninitiative.com/
@changingwomaninitiative
Honor the Earth
Restoration efforts, collective ecological action
https://www.honorearth.org/
@honortheearth
IAIA Land-Grant Programs
Agricultural education, outreach programming
https://iaia.edu/outreach/land-grant/
@iaialandgrantprograms
If Not Us Then Who?
Environmental sustainability, forest protection and conservation
https://ifnotusthenwho.me/
@ifnotusthenwho
Tribal Trade Co.
Cultural practices, respecting tradition, celebrating Indigenous teachings
https://tribaltradeco.com/
@tribaltradecoAcknowledgements Many thanks to the benefactors who have supported the growth of this project, including outreach, information analysis, policy briefing, and compilation. To my family, thank you for supporting my pursuit of justice and preservation as I navigate the moral failings of the modern city. To Professor Marieme Lo, Katherine Danks, the Sustainable Cities working group, and the University of Toronto School of Cities as a whole, your counsel and resources have been invaluable, and without it, I do not exaggerate in saying this project would not exist. Thanks as well to Isabella Watts, Aaliyah Mulla, and the Daniels Faculty of Architecture as a whole for the endless inspiration and encouragement. And finally, to all the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island, especially Lua Mondor, anonymous Ojibwe, Lenape, and Potawatomi contributors, your generosity, assistance, and perseverance has grown to be the lifeblood of this body of work, and will serve generations of passionate students for years to come, just as I hope it may serve you. Your offerings appear in daily life for all of us, and so I remain indebted. I hope to do these stories justice and spread awareness of the injustices that remain today.
Catherine P. Economopoulos (2021). Building on Tradition: Bringing Age-Old Indigenous
Practices to the Modern City for a Cleaner, Greener Future. A research paper. Toronto, CA.
School of Cities, University of Toronto.pdfYou can also read
