Abstract
Land is not a commodity, and dominant western society is unsustainable. Examples of unsustainability include severance of peoples from lands and waters; separation of peoples from centers of decision-making; and dispossession of the lands, and traditional territories of Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities (IPLCs). IPLCs at the frontlines of the climate crisis are often excluded on vital decisions regarding land management and protection. Taking an emic interpretation by means of lived experiences and auto-ethnographic responses to question prompts, this paper explores the international implications of Anishinaabek Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas nan Gàidheal as concepts that can (re)center IPLC place-based knowledges, sustainable governance, and lands in times of climate crisis. Anishinaabek Giikendaaswin is about the learning from the lands, N’ibi (the waters), and the sky world. It is a lived knowledge that has guided and continues to guide Anishinaabek Peoples. G’giikendaaswinmin informs Anishinaabek interconnectedness and interrelationality to the lands, all beings, and the sky world. Dùthchas is a millenia-old kincentric concept, informing a Gàidheal (Gael) way of life and traditional land governance that predate the formation of the United Kingdom. Dùthchas transmits a sense of belonging to, not possession of the land, and stresses an interconnectedness and ecological balance among all entities. The authors (Anishinaabe and Gàidheal) respond to critical questions, such as How do Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas center knowledges that can ensure collective continuance of life? Through a common theme of interconnectedness and what this means for reconstitutive real-life practice, they demonstrate how Indigenous concepts and science based on the expertise of IPLCs can address continued colonial atrocities and current crises. Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas have international and transnational implications as discourses of resistance not only to the Anthropocene, but also to ongoing processes of dispossession.
Keywords
Introduction
Land is not a commodity, and dominant western society is unsustainable. Examples of unsustainability include severance of peoples from lands and waters; separation of peoples from centers of decision-making; and dispossession of the lands, and traditional territories of Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities (IPLCs). IPLCs at the frontlines of the climate crisis are often excluded on vital decisions regarding land management and protection. Global biodiversity goals and targets—such as those recently adopted for the Global Biodiversity Framework (GBF) at COP15 Montréal in December 2022—are unattainable without the full inclusion of IPLCs. IPLCs are vital custodians of the world’s biodiversity and local ecosystems. IPLC lands make up 42% of all global land in “good ecological condition” (65.92 million km2), and IPLCs maintain “ecosystem services” that are of global importance (The State of Indigenous Peoples’ and Local Communities’ Lands and Territories Technical Review, 2021). IPLCs have “proven track records of sustainability” (Conversi, 2021) and equitable community-led governance over centuries or millennia, as evidenced by 91% of IPLC lands being in “good or moderate ecological condition” (The State of Indigenous Peoples’ and Local Communities’ Lands and Territories Technical Review, 2021).
This paper will explore the international implications of Anishinaabek Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas nan Gàidheal as Indigenous concepts that can support the (re)centering of IPLC place-based knowledges, sustainable governance, and lands in times of climate crisis. Anishinaabek Giikendaaswin is about the learning from the lands, N’ibi (the waters), and the sky world. It is a lived knowledge that has guided and continues to guide Anishinaabek Peoples. G’giikendaaswinmin informs Anishinaabek interconnectedness and interrelationality to the lands, all beings, and the sky world. Dùthchas is a millenia-old kincentric concept, informing a Gaelic way of life and traditional land governance that predate the formation of the United Kingdom. Dùthchas transmits a sense of belonging to, not possession of the land, and stresses an interconnectedness and ecological balance among all entities.
The authors will first introduce and position themselves before continuing to respond to five question prompts in their own words: (1) What is Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas? (2) How do Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas center knowledges that can ensure collective continuance of life? (3) How can Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas maintain and enable responsible reciprocal relationships in a human-caused time of crisis? (4) What does the Anthropocene actually mean from a Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas perspective? (5) What are examples of Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas in practice?
The authors will take an emic perspective on the concepts of Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas, speaking from their positions as Anishinaabe and Gàidheal (Scottish Gael) respectively. Through a common theme of interconnectedness and what this means for reconstitutive real-life practice, they will demonstrate how Indigenous concepts and science based on the expertise of IPLCs can address continued colonial atrocities and current crises. Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas form part of original knowledge systems and stem from thousands of years of living within a place. Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas predate newer modern terms, such as post-humanism and new materialisms which have been critiqued for western bias and not acknowledging nor being fully accountable to pre-existing Indigenous scholarship, science, and knowledges of place (Henriksen et al., 2022; Tuck, 2010). Cajete (2018) underscores there is “the continuing need for ecological restoration guided by Indigenous thought” (p. 15). As such, the authors focus on the Indigenous concepts of Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas. Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas have international and transnational implications as discourses of resistance not only to the Anthropocene, but also to ongoing processes of dispossession.
Positionality
Sue:
Susan Chiblow ndizhinikass, Jijuak indoodem, Ketaguanzeebing indoonjiba, Anishinaabe Ojbway endow. Ketaguanzeebing indaa noogom, Ansihinaabek aki indoojibaa. Susan Chiblow is my name, I am crane clan from Garden River. I am Anishinaabe and live in Garden River. I live on the earth of the Anishinaabek. I position my name, my clan, where I am from, who I am, where I live, and in the larger context, I am in Anishinaabek territory.
I grew up on Garden River First Nation in a single male parent home with four brothers and two sisters. We spent a lot of time in the bush learning to harvest and be responsible to all life. My father and brothers passed on their knowledge by living the knowledge. Johnston (2010) confirms that learning was/is typically passed on from the older generation to the younger generation through action. The knowledge passed on is a lived place-based knowledge (Chief et al., 2016), forming my responsibilities to my territory and the territory of my ancestors. This learning has formed the basis of my worldview and has continued through relationships with Elders, knowledge holders, the lands, waters, and through ceremony.
I have worked with Indigenous Elders for over 30 years, continuously participating in ceremony and acquiring giikendaaswin. Peacock (2013) explains that giikendaaswin can serve to facilitate one’s understandings of their life experiences and assist in facilitating one’s future actions. My deep-seated attachment to the lands drives my ambition to protect and preserve all beings. Tobias and Richmond (2014) explain that Anishinaabek have an innate attachment to the lands through Anishinaabek teachings. These teachings inform us that all life is connected and when we remove one species - one strand in the web of life, it has significant impacts on all species. Johnston (2003) remarks, From their observations, our ancestors saw a kinship between plants, insects, birds, animals, fish and human beings, a kinship of dependence; humans depending on animals and birds and insects; animals depending on insects and plants; insects depending on plants; plants depending only on the earth, sun, and rain. Creation was conducted in a certain order: plants, insects, birds, animals and human beings. In the order of necessity, humans were the last and the least; they would not last long without the other forms of beings. (pg. vii)
I humbly understand I rely on other forms of beings, that they are ndaanwendaaganaag (kin/all my relations), and I am merely a strand in the web of life. The lands and all her beings are my everything, my kitchen, pharmacy, education system, health care system, my everything. A report summitted to the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples by the Assembly of First Nations (1993) summarizes my understanding to be: The environment is fundamentally important to First Nation Peoples. It [She] is the breadth of our spirituality, knowledge, languages and culture. It [She] is not a commodity to be battered with to maximize profit, nor should it [She] be damaged by scientific experiment. The environment speaks of our history, our language, and our relationship to her. It [She] provides us with nourishment, medicine and comfort. Our relationship and interaction was and is the basis and source of independence. We do not dominate her. We harmonize with her. (pg. 39)
Armed with giikendaaswin, I strive to share giikendaassin in a good way and imagine a future that is equitable and inclusive of all peoples and all knowledges.
Paul:
Is mise Pòl Miadhachàin-Chiblow. ’S e Gàidheal a th’ annam. Rugadh agus thogadh mi ann an Glaschu, Alba. My name is Paul Meighan-Chiblow. I am a (Scottish) Gael. I was born and raised in Glasgow, Scotland.
My experiences as a Gàidheal (Gael) growing up in Milton—a council housing scheme and socioeconomically deprived neighbourhood with gang fighting, alcoholism, and drug abuse problems—inform my worldview and work in multicultural education and policy. I was raised by my mother who is from Daliburgh, in the Isle of South Uist. South Uist is community-owned, a Key Biodiversity Area at the frontlines of the climate crisis, and highly vulnerable to rising seawater levels. South Uist is also the heartlands of Gàidhlig (Scottish Gaelic), an endangered Indigenous language in Scotland, with approximately 57,000 speakers. I would hear Gàidhlig all the time around my grandmother, who moved the family from Uist to Glasgow for work when my mother was a teenager, and who was a core of our family.
Despite being an endangered Indigenous language, Gàidhlig was not available to me in school, and my grandmother, when I asked her to teach me, told me I did not “need it”. I did not understand why at the time, but now I understand more. Gàidhlig and Gaelic culture were almost eradicated due to many factors, such as the forced eviction of the Gàidheil (Gaels) from their homes and lands during the Highland Clearances in the 18th and 19th centuries and the destruction of centuries-old Gaelic clan-based society after the Battle of Culloden in 1746 by British government and imperial forces (MacKinnon, 2017). More recently, members of my family and older generations recall being beaten for speaking the language in classrooms. And Gàidhlig, spoken for more than 1500 years in Scotland, is still not recognized as an “official language” in the United Kingdom. The multi-generational and psychological impacts of the trauma associated with the repression of Gàidhlig and Gaelic culture linger to this day and have been driving factors for language shift, “loss”, socioeconomic and sociopolitical inequities, and the near destruction of family and community intergenerational language transmission in Scotland (Smith, 1982; Ó Giollagáin, 2020). Due to deliberate processes of covert and overt linguistic eradication, family land dispossession, the educational system, and internalized deficit ideologies about the “value” of Gàidhlig, I do not speak my language fluently yet. I am currently on a Gàidhlig reclamation journey as an adult learner.
My motivation for more equitable multicultural education and policy has continued to grow since meeting my Anishinaabe Ojibwe husband in Glasgow in 2015. I immigrated to Turtle Island (also known as North and Central America) with him in 2016. Since then, I have learned more about the devastating impacts of colonialism on the Indigenous Peoples and languages of Turtle Island from him and from discussions with my Anishinaabe family, Elders, and knowledge keepers. We talk frequently about the importance of reclaiming and speaking our languages, languages which—in different contexts, lands, and to varying extremes—have been oppressed and pushed to the verge of extinction by centuries of colonial governments and educational policy. As a Gàidheal who is not Indigenous to Turtle Island where I now live, I am grateful to be sustained by and to be accountable to the lands, waters, animals, plants, and spirits of these territories stewarded by Indigenous Nations and Peoples, past, present, and future, since time immemorial. Miigwetch (thank you in Anishinaabemowin) and tapadh leibh (thank you in Gàidhlig).
What is Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas?
Sue:
There have been several terms conjured to label Indigenous knowledge systems, such as Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Aboriginal Traditional Knowledge (Chiblow and Meighan, 2022). This lumps all Indigenous Peoples into one large group and ignores their languages and territorial connections. Of course, there are core principles for all Indigenous knowledge systems, but it is important for Indigenous Peoples to express their knowledge systems from their own languages. As an Anishinaabe, giikendaaswin is the word that best describes our knowledge systems. My understanding is giikendaaswin means knowledge in our language. Geniusz (2009) explains that giikendaaswin is specific to the Anishinaabek. This knowledge comes from many sources and is transmitted through multiple facets. Absolon (2011) rationalizes that there are “many pathways to knowledge” (pg. 12). Giikendaaswin can come from the moon, the sun, the animals, through visions and dreams, through ceremony and from other people (Kimmerer, 2013). Giikendaaswin through an Anishinaabek lens is not found in books. Johnston (2003) posits, What our people know about life and living, good and evil, laws and the purposes of insects, birds, animals and fish comes from the earth, the weather, the seasons, the plants, and the other beings. The earth is our book; the days its pages; the seasons, paragraphs; the years, chapters. The earth is a book, alive with events that occur over and over for our benefit (pg. v).
Anishinaabek Elders have said that the Earth and all the beings above, below, and around us were and still are our books. Giikendaaswin acquisition comes in many forms and arises from “multiple sources: direct observation, experiential learning, learning from Elders, storytelling, ceremonies, contact with non-human entities, and through visions and dreams” (Geniusz, 2009: 67). Giikendaaswin can be transmitted through stories, songs, and dance as the “primary vessels of knowledge” (Doerfler et al., 2013, p. xx). Ultimately, it is about listening with your entire being. Wagamese (2016) explains, When you listen, you become aware. That’s for your head. When you hear, you awaken. That’s for your heart. When you feel, it becomes part of you. That’s for your spirit…it’s so you learn to listen with your whole being. That’s how you learn. (pg. 113)
Giikendaaswin teaches about listening. Listening to hear and not react strengthens relationships with the lands and is fundamental to giikendaaswin. Giikendasswin has core principles such as the earth is alive, all living beings are equal, and all beings are connected (McGregor, 2020). Giikendaaswin is a responsibility and considered a gift. Dupre (2019) confirms, “the ability to learn, nurture, and mobilize our knowledge is a responsibility and a beautiful gift” (pg. 98). Indigenous scholar Patrisia Gonzales (2020) states, “Traditional knowledge in my lifeway is one of a giving economy of generosity and sharing, based on values that align with what I consider the five R’s of reciprocity, respect, responsibility, relationship, regeneration” (p. 4). I chose to honour the economy of generosity and sharing, and the core principles to ensure I become a good ancestor.
Paul:
I will use the Gàidhlig spelling and speak of Dùthchas from my perspective as a Scottish Gael. Dùthchas is a millennia-old Gaelic kincentric concept that predates the formation of Scotland and the United Kingdom. Dùthchas is an intrinsic part of the sealladh a’ Ghàidheil (Gaelic worldview) and is derived from the Gaelic root word “dú/dùth”, meaning “earth” or “land” (MacKinnon and Brennan, 2012). Dùthchas can have several meanings, both internal and external dimensions, such as: hereditary right or claim, birthright, heritage, native or ancestral home, kindred affection, or innate quality (McQuillan, 2004). The word exists both as Dùthchas in Gàidhlig (Scottish Gaelic) and as Dúchas in Gaeilge (Irish). Dùthchas, as a Gaelic ontology and methodology, stresses the interconnectedness of people, land, culture, language, and an ecological balance among all entities, human and more than human (Meighan, 2022). For example, the root word “dú/dùth” makes the very common Gaelic word duine, which can be translated as “person” in English. The more accurate and faithful translation of duine, however, is “person or one who comes from the land” (Gordon, 2023). As Riach (2020) explains, “the importance of this concept of the connectedness and inter-relationships between land, people and culture, held in the word “Dùthchas”, cannot be overestimated” (para. 4).
Dùthchas can be considered an example of culture specific words, or “conceptual tools that reflect a society’s past experience of doing and thinking about things in certain ways; and they help perpetuate these ways” (Wierzbicka, 1997: 2). Ní Mhathúna (2021) states that Dùthchas is an “Indigenous cultural concept…representing an expanded place-based way of knowing” (p. 251). Dùthchas is an extension of Gaelic law and land governance since it “was evidently a system of customary law or native title associated with traditional clan society and collective rights” (MacKinnon, 2018: 284) prior to the internal colonization of the Gàidhealtachd (Gaelic-speaking areas, also known as Highlands and Islands of Scotland; see also MacKinnon, 2017, 2018). Kinship is an important feature of Dùthchas (Meighan, 2022). The inheritance of land and “heritable trusteeship” (Macinnes, 2006), encoded and transmitted through Dùthchas, affirms dynamic and complex kin-based and place-based relationships that bond people, extended kin, and community together beyond biological ties alone (Charles-Edwards, 1993; Newton, 2019).
How do Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas center knowledges that can ensure collective continuance of life?
Sue:
Giikendaaswin informs that all life is connected. The waters connect us to each other, to the trees, animals, birds – to all life. Understanding this connection informs the collective continuance of all life. Giikendaaswin confirms all life is in relationships with one another, with responsibilities to one another (McGregor, 2020). When we disrupt another being’s responsibilities, we are disrupting our own lives, threatening the balance of life and the existence of humankind.
The collective continuance of all life relies on humans living their responsibilities. A growing number of scholars argue that climate change is a relationship problem that wreaks havoc on ecosystems (Gram-Hanssen et al., 2021). Giikendaaswin ensures the collective continuance through the knowing that we, as humans, are part of the ecosystem, and what we do to the ecosystem, we do to ourselves. Shilling (2018) explains, “Tribal people…see all things as being of equal value in the scheme of things…tribal people allow all animals, vegetables, and minerals (the entire biota, in short) the same or even greater privileges than humans” (pg. 9). This worldview and understanding is largely absent from current environmental management systems.
After years of advocacy by Indigenous Peoples, scholars, institutions, and governments have begun to understand the need include Indigenous knowledges into environmental management systems (McGregor, 2021). While it is definitely a step forward, it is not going to address the collective continuance until it leads environmental decision making. For example, Craft and King (2021) acknowledge governments struggle to implement Indigenous knowledges in water decision making regimes. Also, while Indigenous knowledge systems have gained momentum, they are not treated as equal to western science. Menzes et al. (2021) state, “While Indigenous Peoples are widely acknowledged to be highly vulnerable to the impacts of climate change, their unique knowledge systems and experiences remain vastly underrepresented in the discourse surrounding climate change impacts, and particularly, solutions for the future” (pg. 510). Until governments acknowledge and understand how giikendaaswin can inform environmental decision making, the collective continuance of all life may remain at peril.
Paul:
Languages and the conceptual tools they transmit are powerful. Languages shape worldviews, inform our values and behaviours, and are not disconnected from the local political, sociocultural, and ecological contexts that surround us (Meighan, 2023). English, for example, can be easily severed from context, culture, land, and place to serve as a “profitable” commodity. Land can be labelled as “wasteland” or considered an extractive resource for capitalist agendas if there is no relationship or accountability to place. In contrast, Indigenous languages, diverse and different across the globe, are inseparable from the land. Indigenous languages transmit highly specialized place-based knowledges—such as linguistically unique medicinal knowledges (Cámara-Leret and Bascompte, 2021) and traditional ecological knowledge (Chiblow and Meighan, 2022; Nì Mhathuna, 2021; Whyte, 2017)—and conceptual tools cultivated over millennia.
Dùthchas—being a conceptual tool that has guided Gaelic peoples to co-exist in harmony with, and in relation to their local environment over millennia—can support the (re)centering of place-based knowledges that can ensure collective continuance of life. Dùthchas stresses an ecological balance among all inhabitants and entities of a place, human and more than human, and has guided heritable trusteeship and stewardship of community lands in the Gàidhealtachd. Dùthchas, being an extension of Gaelic law and traditional governance, is a concept that has underpinned the lifeways and lifestyles of “exemplary ethical communities” in the Gàidhealtachd with “a proven track record of sustainability related to forms of traditional knowledge” (Conversi, 2021: 1). For example, my home island, South Uist, is a Key Biodiversity Area where you can find the Machair, a landscape and habitat unique to the north-west of Scotland and Ireland. Gaels and locals have tended the Machair in a way that nurtures life (Nature Scotland, 2020). Machair is a Gaelic word and can be translated as “fertile, low-lying plain”. According to Nature Scotland (2020), “More than a habitat, machair is a blend of low-lying coastline; sand partly consisting of shell fragments; the effects of strong winds; just the right amount of rainfall; and the involvement of people and their grazing animals…the [local] human population manages the land in a way that delivers high biodiversity” (para. 2, 9).
Dùthchas—as a dynamic concept, fluid ontology, and kincentric praxis—goes beyond a mere feeling of identification with place and community to tangible conduct and action motivated by a sense of ethics, respect, and responsibility for said place and community to maintain ecological balance (Meighan, 2022). MacKinnon and Brennan (2012) underscore that Dùthchas is, “an fhaireachdainn a thaobh a bhith a’ buntainn ri àite, agus an t-uallach a th’ ort airson an àite sin (the sense of belonging to a place, and your responsibility for that place)” (pg. 9). Oliver (2021) explains, Dùthchas is that ontological dynamic of embodied experience and emplacement (‘on the ground’), and complex entanglement (‘in the mind’) with relationships of belonging and dwelling, heritage and inheritance, a human ecology with ‘place’ (including, where relevant, land) …This sense of belonging and responsibility, when conceived of as praxis, as emplaced ethical relations, ‘is political, social and cultural imagination in action.’ (n. p.)
The concept of Dùthchas illustrates that belonging to a place is not the same as possessing or owning a place or land in dominant western and capitalist worldviews. The root word in Gàidhlig “dú/dùth”—which originates both Dùthchas and duine (person who comes from the land)—illustrates that, in the Gaelic worldview, we come from the land, we belong to the land, and language is land (Chiblow and Meighan, 2022). An Indigenous language, in this case, Gàidhlig, is an ancestral guide, map, and ecological encyclopedia. The Gàidhlig expression encapsulates this sentiment: “Tìr gun canan, tìr gun anam” (Land without language, land without soul).
How can Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas maintain and enable responsible reciprocal relationships in a human-caused time of crisis?
Sue:
Giikendaaswin is based on maintaining responsible and reciprocal relationships through respect, restraint, and reverence (Archibald, 2008; Shilling, 2018). Responsible to all beings, reciprocity as gifting, respect as understanding humans rely on all other beings, restraint as taking only what you need, and reverence as honouring. Shilling (2018) posits, Reciprocity and respect define the bond between all members of the land family. Reverence toward nature plays a critical role in religious ceremonies, hunting rituals, arts and crafts, agricultural techniques, and other day to day activities. One’s relationship to the land is shaped by something other than economic profit. To speak of an individual owning land is anathema, not unlike owning another person, akin to slavery. Each generation is responsible to leave a healthy world to future generations. (pg. 12)
Giikendaaswin promotes interdependence, connectedness, relatedness, and co-existence between all life. Giikendaaswin has maintained ecosystem health through practising and living giikendaaswin (Chanza and Musakwa, 2021). It has been well documented that ecosystem health is on the decline. The IPBES released its global report in 2019 stating, “around 1 million species face extinction, many within decades” (pg. 24) unless transformative changes are made immediately. McGregor (2020) explicate, “In the North America context, Indigenous peoples have arguably been concerned over ecosystem destruction since the arrival of Europeans over five centuries ago, long before dominant society officially recognized it as a crisis” (pg. 36). Giikendaaswin provides for early warnings of ecosystem destruction caused by the Anthropocene.
Giikendaaswin supports the need to live in balance with all life. Living responsible reciprocal relationships is the foundation of balance between all life (Cajete, 2018). Western thought systems are based on capitalism, individualism, racial superiority, ownership, and possession (Jacob et al., 2020), which are driving forces of the climate crisis. The contrasts in the two systems needs to be addressed prior to creating sustainable solutions for all life that we, as humans, are so dependent on.
Paul:
For me, maintaining and enabling reciprocal relationships in a human-caused time of crisis is all about remembering and (re)activating kinship bonds to strengthen and foster accountability, loyalty, and respect for the place—the lands and waters—where you live. As with many Indigenous cultures worldwide, kinship is an integral part of the Gaelic worldview. Newton (2019) explains, Gaelic society has been structured in kin-groups for as far back as our sources go…the term clann [the English word ‘clan’ comes from this Gaelic term] literally means ‘children’ in Gaelic…Biological relationships did not by any means determine or exclude the range of bonds and arrangements that drew people together. (p. 208, 228)
Dùthchas enables me to maintain reciprocal and respectful relationships by serving as a powerful reminder of who I am as a Gàidheal and where I come from. I have immense respect and love for my homelands, and I have loosely translated Dùthchas as “Ancestral Bonds” to emphasize, albeit incompletely, the meaning the concept carries for me (Meighan, 2022). The respect for my homelands helps me to better respect the lands and waters of Turtle Island where I am now grateful to live with my Anishinaabe husband and to be sustained by. This respect, informed by my Gaelic worldview and Dùthchas, also helps me to build and maintain relationships with communities, the Indigenous communities, where I now live as a person who is not Indigenous to Turtle Island. McFadyen and Sandilands (2021) elaborate that the “Gaelic concept of Dùthchas… [can be] understood as a cultural, ethical and reciprocal relationship with place” (p. 173). Dùthchas is not monolithic, static, nor inward-looking. It is inclusive, fluid, place-based, with an eye to the future, sustainable interconnected communities, and generations to come (Cox, 2009; Dziadowic, 2022; Gillespie et al., 2000).
What does the Anthropocene actually mean from a Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas perspective?
Sue:
I was thinking about this word Anthropocene and wondered how I would explain this to an Anishinaabemowin (Anishinaabek language) speaker. I think I would start by explaining how western science classifies every being and periods of time into a system of units. When this is done, it individualizes beings and separates them out of their relationships and responsibilities. The period of times become linear and of the past, which we study but not necessarily learn lessons from. I think Anishinaabemowin speakers would shake their heads in wonder of removing species from their responsibilities and classifying time into separate units. Whyte (2018) explains that Heather Davis and Zoe Todd point to the Anthropocene as a product of colonial, capitalist processes. I am not a fluent language speaker but have been in conversations with them for over 30 years, and they always marvel at the English terminology and how it is so disconnected from life and from the act of doing something.
The Anthropocene is driven by human actions and activities based on a colonial worldview of greed and accumulation. As scholars discuss solutions for the anthropogenic climate change and since this is driven by western thought systems, would it not make sense to look at other thought systems, specifically, Indigenous worldviews, knowledges, ways of knowing, seeing, being, and relating? Potawatomi scholar Kyle Whyte (2018) remarks, Cadis Callison, relating to Artic Indigenous peoples, writes that we need to recognize what climate change portends for those who have endured a century of immense cultural, political and environmental changes. Callison’s work recognizes that the hardships many nonindigenous people dread most of the climate crisis are the ones that Indigenous peoples have endured already due to different forms of colonialism: ecosystem collapse, species loss, economic crash, drastic relocation, and cultural disintegration. (pg. 226)
It is evident that Indigenous Peoples have already survived a form of the Anthropocene which means they have giikendaaswin on how to continue to survive.
Paul:
The thing that immediately strikes me about the word Anthropocene is the Greek root word “anthro” (human). I can understand how this word, Anthropocene, attempts to stress human impacts on the Earth system. For example, at the recent 2022 UN Biodiversity Conference in Montréal, an urgent issue and challenge identified was the need for a new agreement that protects nature and the lands and waters of Earth from destructive human behaviour. However, the term Anthropocene can neglect the fact that the vast majority of the destructive human behaviour has been carried by billionaire-dollar companies and non-IPLCs, as evidenced by 91% of IPLC lands being in “good or moderate ecological condition” (The State of Indigenous Peoples’ and Local Communities’ Lands and Territories Technical Review, 2021). Moreover, the term Anthropocene can reinscribe eurocentric, western logics of modernity. That is, the assumption “human cultures develop along a predetermined linear trajectory from a state of savagery to advanced modernity… [and] European [e.g., Enlightenment ideas of] culture is typically used as the measure against which this development or advancement is gauged” (Simpson, 2020: 62). I agree with Kyle Whyte (2017) when he states that the Anthropocene is not a precise enough term. The Anthropocene does not distinguish the nuances between types of anthropogenic change, nor does it center or focus on the agents of destructive human behaviour. For example, there is a vital difference between the reciprocal relationships of Indigenous Peoples and communities “with thousands of plants, animals, and ecosystems” over millennia (Whyte, 2017: 6) and the actions of colonizers who have attempted to destroy these reciprocal relationships through genocide, linguicide, epistemicide, and historicide, such as in residential schools and dispossession of lands. If the Anthropocene discourse continues to only privilege western science, eurocentric logics of “modernity”, “progress”, and “development” to the detriment and exclusion of Indigenous and local knowledges, it will be impossible to enact relational, reciprocal, and ethical relationships with place. The question Métis scholar Zoe Todd (2015) asks about the Anthropocene, “What other story could be told here?” (p. 244) is still applicable and urgently requires deeper engagement and action from dominant mainstream society. Building on this a little, I would ask “What alternative stories could be told here?” to centre multiple examples of conceptual tools in Indigenous languages worldwide—such as Dùthchas—that have enabled Indigenous communities to co-exist in harmony with their local environments over millennia and already demonstrate “proven track records of sustainability” (Conversi, 2021).
What are examples of Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas in practice?
Sue:
I was a co-chair on the Indigenous Advisory Committee to the Impact Assessment Agency of Canada. We provide the Government of Canada expert advice and participate in the development of policy and guidance for the new impact assessment system. The new impact assessment system must be informed by Indigenous knowledge at different stages throughout the assessment process. The advice the IAC provides assists with how this needs to be done to ensure the unique rights, interests, and perspectives of Indigenous Peoples are acknowledged, affirmed, and implemented in environment and impact assessments (see https://www.canada.ca/en/impact-assessment-agency/services/policy-guidance/practitioners-guide-impact-assessment-act/indigenous-knowledge-under-the-impact-assessment-act.html for more information). Giikendaaswin is integral to ensuring environmental and impact assessments are sustainable.
Anishinaabe scholar Deborah McGregor (2021) stresses that giikendaaswin is foundational to environmental decision making and warns of “the extraction paradigm” (pg.3), typical of outside interests. To avoid the extraction paradigm to the detriment of giikendaaswin, McGregor (2021) explains, The only appropriate and effective way for IKS (Indigenous knowledge systems) to be utilized in environmental governance is to involve Indigenous peoples as nations, societies, and governments, with particular attention given to the holders/keepers and practitioners of IKS. It is simply neither appropriate nor constructive to try to extract Indigenous knowledge from Indigenous Peoples. Indigenous peoples should be positioned as leaders in environmental protection, conservation, and assessment; not as interest groups to be incorporated or included. Indigenous knowledge resides in the people, the community, the land (places); it may not be tangible or quantifiable in ways inherent to other knowledge systems (eg. Western science). The only way to appropriately understand IKS or IKs is to establish meaningful relationships with Indigenous peoples on their own terms. (pg. 4)
Understanding and practicing appropriate and effective ways when working with giikendaaswin will establish meaningful relationships bringing together worldviews to address the crisis humans have created. Addressing the environmental crisis has been at the forefront of many Indigenous movements, actions, and policies. For example, the Menominee developed a sustainable forest practise based on their knowledge systems while addressing climate change (Whyte, 2017). There are more examples which include Indigenous organizations and peoples leading the way by developing tools and policies that help Indigenous Peoples with climate change (see https://www.indigenousclimateaction.com/).
Paul:
Dùthchas has guided Gaels and informed their ways of life in many practical ways over millennia. The cultural force of Dùthchas was widespread in the Gàidhealtachd and central to Gaelic clan cohesion, emphasizing the practical everyday aspect of the concept. Dùthchas is an extension of Gaelic law and land governance and expresses inalienable Gaelic hereditable trusteeship, collective rights, and ensuing responsibilities to the lands to which you belong. For example, during the Highland Clearances, the Gaelic tenantry were forcefully evicted from their traditional lands for sheep monoculture and commercialization of the lands by landowning gentry. In one case, in 1756, the tenants of Coigach, in the north-west of the Gàidhealtachd, protested the commercialization and harmful sheep monoculture by invoking their còir (right) and their Dùthchas (heritable trusteeship) (Desportes, 2023). Gordon (2023) remarks, Throughout the Highland Clearances, Gaels felt that this hereditary right of Dùthchas was being violated. Then throughout the Land Wars of the 1880s it was in defence of this feeling, or customary law, that people were acting, and which later led, in 1886, to the formation of the Crofting Laws, which can be seen in many ways as both a treaty and an acknowledgement of a form of native title. (para. 10)
More recently, there has been a surge of interest in the concept of Dùthchas in Scotland as reconstitutive practice. There is a recent documentary titled Dùthchas (Home) (https://www.duthchas.org/), directed by Kirsty MacDonald and Andy Mackinnon. The documentary explores what it means to people, especially women, after they had to leave the island of their birth, in this case, Berneray in the Outer Hebrides. Many had to leave the islands to get an education, work, and live, such as my own grandparents and mother. The Dùthchas documentary explores the effect migration has had on the Gaelic language and culture. Dùthchas is also the name of an annual week-long festival (https://www.duthchas.com/) which looks at the heritage of the Urras Oighreachd Ghabhsainn (Galson Estate Trust), a community-owned estate in the north-west of the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. And, as part of my doctoral research, I operationalized Dùthchas as a kincentric methodology for community-led research in-relation praxis to explore how researchers who are not Indigenous to the lands on which they work can collaborate in a more ethical and mutually beneficial manner with Indigenous Peoples and communities. As Roddick et al. (2021) remark, Dùthchas “connects our reflecting with these ‘Own’ [Gaelic] ecologies to our deepening empathy with others seeking sustainability and justice throughout the world” (para. 9).
Dùthchas and the “energy of belonging and responsibility the word conveys [also] extends to the waters” (MacKinnon and Brennan, 2012: 9). This responsibility for, and intimate knowledge of local waters was recently highlighted with widespread media attention to the lifeways of Gaelic coastal communities if Scottish Government plans for Highly Protected Marine Areas (HPMAs) go ahead (Fishing Daily, 2023). If approved, HPMAs will mean vast areas of coastal and inshore waters will be closed to all fishing, aquaculture, and infrastructure developments. Island and coastal communities will be devastated as centuries-old, traditional sustainable fishing activities and industries will be forced to close and likely result in economic, social, and cultural devastation (Bòrd na Gàidhlig, 2023). Angus MacPhail, who is co-founder of the traditional Scottish band from the Gàidhealtachd—Skippinish—and who is also a fisherman, teamed up with inshore fisherman, Donald Francis MacNeil, to write The Clearances Again, reaching the Top 10 in the UK music charts in April 2023. Below is an excerpt from the song which I believe transmits the cultural force of Dùthchas and illustrates how Dùthchas can drive action to protect the local communities who know their lands and waters best: My people, my language, my Island And the rights that our forefathers won To remain on the soil of our homeland By the sweep of a pen will be gone – A wrecking ball through our existence; Tradition and culture condemned At the hands of the arrogant stranger – The Clearances over again. But we’ll join with the kin of our coastline From Ness to the Holy Isle. Faceless grey suits from the cities, They will not play games with our lives. My song marks a fight for survival A Mayday call we cry. We will stand for the rights of our children. We will not let our islands die.
Conclusion
Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas have international and transnational implications as discourses of resistance not only to the Anthropocene, but also to ongoing processes of dispossession. Through a common theme of interconnectedness and what this means for reconstitutive real-life practice, the authors demonstrate how Indigenous concepts, Giikendaaswin and Dùthchas, can address continued colonial atrocities and current crises by (re)centering local, place-based knowledges and practices.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
