Indigenize the Law: Tribal Rights of Nature Movements with Casey Camp-Horinek | Part 1

The idea that a river or other natural feature is a living being, imbued with the right to live and thrive is nothing new to Indigenous Peoples around the world. In this episode with Matriarch Casey Camp-Horinek, we talk about how a burgeoning indigenous-led Rights of Nature movement has the potential to protect ecosystems from destruction by granting legal rights to nature itself, and how many tribes are uniquely positioned for leadership to institute and uphold the Rights of Nature because of their sovereign legal status.

To listen to the second part of this program, click here.

Casey Camp-Horinek, a tribal Councilwoman of the Ponca Tribe of Oklahoma and Hereditary Drumkeeper of its Womens’ Scalp Dance Society, Elder and Matriarch, is also an Emmy award winning actress, author, and an internationally renowned, longtime Native and Human Rights and Environmental Justice activist. She led efforts for the Ponca tribe to adopt a Rights of Nature Statute and pass a moratorium on fracking on its territory, and has traveled and spoken around the world.

This is an episode of Indigeneity Conversations, a podcast series that features deep and engaging conversations with Native culture bearers, scholars, movement leaders, and non-Native allies on the most important issues and solutions in Indian Country. Bringing Indigenous voices to global conversations. Visit the Indigeneity Conversations homepage to learn more.

Credits

Executive Producer: Kenny Ausubel

Co-Hosts and Producers: Cara Romero and Alexis Bunten

Senior Producer: Stephanie Welch

Associate Producer and Program Engineer: Emily Harris

Consulting Producer: Teo Grossman

Studio Engineers: Brandon Pinard and Theo Badashi

Tech Support: Tyson Russell

Mer Young creates the series collage artwork.

Additional music provided by Nagamo.ca,  connecting producers and content creators with Indigenous composers.


Transcript

CARA ROMERO: Hi, Everyone. Welcome to the Indigeneity Conversations, our native-to-native podcast dialogues from Bioneers. I’m Cara Romero, co-host and also co-director of the Bioneers Indigeneity Program alongside Alexis Bunten.

ALEXIS BUNTEN: Hey Everyone. Today we’re going to be speaking with Casey Camp-Horinek about her remarkable work in the tribal rights of nature movement. It was such a great conversation that we’ve made it into a two-episode podcast. This is part one.

Casey is a shero of ours and an incredibly powerful matriarch and elder. She’s a leader in the global, Indigenous led, Rights of Nature movement. Casey’s tribe, the Ponca Nation, was one of the first tribes to really adopt Rights of Nature law in the United States.

CR: In this conversation, you’ll hear from Casey about her personal history as well as our shared beliefs that rights of nature initiatives are important and protective of all peoples. 

We also discuss our native led Rights of Nature initiative within the Bioneers’ Indigeneity Program. We’re working to support many tribes through the research and development of methodology that would assist councils, attorneys, and community organizers in self-determining how to adopt Rights of Nature into tribal governance.

So now let’s go to our conversation with Casey. We began by asking her about her life’s journey and path, and what brought her to the work she’s doing now.

CASEY CAMP-HORINEK: I want to back up just a bit and just genuinely say how good it makes me feel, sincerely, deeply that you are here and doing what you are doing, because as a matriarch, and you know my joke is about raising all of my young people after graduating from MIT – Matriarch in Training – my daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, and you. And I feel really good about that. It’s an important part of our being. 

Casey Camp Horinek at the 2019 Bioneers Conference. Photo by Alex Akamine.

As an elected official, as an ambassador for the Ponca tribe, my main role is being that – matriarch to a [inaudible] clan of people, of being a traditional drum keeper for the women’s society, the only existing women’s society of the Ponca Nation, and to have the honor of carrying on the ways of my women folks that have taught me how to move and to be flexible, to be resilient, to be inventive and to understand that our mother, the Earth, has consistently evolved in her needs and in her nurturing us, and to the needs of all that is, not just human life, but you as a part of nature, not separate from and that’s very important to internalize. We humans are nature. 

And so to fast forward through my lifetime of being a young brown girl that lived in poverty and so rich in culture. We grew up being transplanted to various cities, part of the relocation process of the ‘50s.   I was the youngest of six. And we transitioned through—I know I went through 12 different schools. We survived because we come from survivors. And we knew how to do it. We knew how, in the generations before us, how to adapt to the cold and to the heat, and to the hunger and to the plenty.

And so the same was true when we were workers in the San Joaquin Valley when I was a young girl. The same was true when we lived in Kansas City, when we lived in Washington state, when we transitioned from place to place when my parents were looking for work and we all worked together. And as an adult coming into the American Indian movement in my youth, and fulfilling that empty spot inside me that had been trained by what they used to call the dominant society – and I’m over that; I know who we are [LAUGHTER] so I no longer consider that foolish time when we tried to be the round peg fitting into their square, linear world. And the American Indian movement, which my brother, Carter Camp, was the leader in, had awakened something that the Native youth movement also had, in saying that we exist proudly, strongly, and we will pull all of the generations around us back into cultural wholeness by rejecting those things that were killing us spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

We didn’t even think of the word activist. We were only doing what was necessary as Ponca people. But Julie, our oldest, her first real chance was [SINGING  – Que viva le , Que viva viva] And that came from after Wounded Knee joining with Cesar Chavez marching through the San Joaquin Valley, with Joan Baez leading us in that chant. Powerful time.

Fast forward again into this century, and being an elected official not because I really wanted to be in political office, but because it was necessary. When my people asked me, I’m bound to do it. It is part of our teachings. And so I went into office.

We passed within the first few months a moratorium on fracking and injection wells, because as sovereign people, we can demand that within our territory, and we did. And it still exists. A resolution against KXL coming through our territory

And during that period of time, I had been being educated about this underlying movement within this protection of our Mother Earth called Rights of Nature. Traveled to Ecuador, looked at their constitution, and several other events. And eventually, through that guidance that only the Great Mystery can guide you through, came up with this understanding of how we should be responsible to protect our generations and our people who are existing under environmental, genocidal onslaught by Conoco-Phillips, Phillips 66, and a myriad of other things, that if we enacted this statute – we wanted to get it into our constitution – and that’s coming up; we’ll talk more about that – that we could hold them responsible, not just in federal or state courts, which has been really a joke for Indigenous People, but in the court of the Ponca people. And it’s an interesting path to be going down. I’m very grateful for the guidance and for those who walk before me, and all of you who are leading this wonderful new way of looking at things.

So I’m thanking you for that question. And there’s nothing going to have a short answer.

CR: That was beautiful. Thank you, Casey. I just wanted to return the love and admiration for you sharing time with us today, speaking about such important issues. We’re all kindred spirits, and I think that that’s so important. All of our tribes can be so different, but where I find more and more we unite in our existence, in our struggles. 

And this Rights of Nature movement has been such a profound area for me to learn about as a young Native woman. Bioneers has a long history working and educating Native and non-Native folks on Rights of Nature law. And our CEO and founder, Kenny Ausubel, in 2006 invited attorney Thom Linzey to the Bioneers main stage to give a keynote on Rights of Nature. And through these keynotes that Bioneers does, there’s always this daisy chain of events, and that really led to that amendment to the constitution down in Ecuador inserting Rights of Nature into law and governments in South America.

And it really got Alexis and I to be able to meet other Native people that, like us, learned about this through Bioneers and thought this might have really profound application in tribal governments. 

I, like you, have served on tribal council as an elected official. It was something that I never thought I would find myself doing. It was something that I was asked to do by an elder when I was just 30 years old. And I’m so glad I did it. I learned more in that three years on tribal council than I feel that I had learned in my whole life. My background is as an artist, as an activist, and, like you, and very ontologically tied to my homeland and my lands of the Mojave Desert in California. 

I think it’s no coincidence at all that our landscapes are something that we’re deeply connected, inseparable from, ontologically tied to, part of our spirituality. And so that we feel from birth and through our teachings that we are supposed to protect these pristine areas, and we have intricate understandings of our ecosystems. And I would say whether we’re in our ancestral homelands, I know that those ties can be very strong, but even if we’ve been removed to other areas, I feel like that blood memory comes through, that need to protect our landscape.

The other thing that I learned on tribal council was kind of pulling on what you were saying before, that this is really a square peg in a round hole. And our tribe, like many others, is—has adopted what’s called a 1934 IRA constitution [The Indian Reorganization Act]. And for our audience—for our audience, these tribal constitutions were boiler plate constitutions that were adopted in the years immediately following the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934. They were forced on us by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, also called the BIA, in order to garner our federal recognition during these eras. And these are called model 1934 IRA constitutions. These constitutions, as you can imagine before forced on us by the BIA, were lacking in so many areas. They were lacking in separation of powers; they were lacking in no tribal courts are mentioned. And we need secretarial approval to breathe in these constitutions. And so, this was something that we really learned as we govern our people in modern times, is we have kind of this useless document, in my opinion, that we’re supposed to govern our people in a fair and equitable way, and there’s no mention of landscape. There’s no mention of culture in these 1934 IRA constitutions. 

And so, I think for me, one of the most exciting things about following the Rights of Nature movement and following Ponca Nation, and Ho Chunk, and White Earth and Yurok, beginning to adopt these Rights of Nature laws and policies into these documents, we’re seeing how disempowered we’ve been. Right? We’re always learning all the unfair hands that we’ve been dealt with through colonialism. And we are constantly learning ways to re-empower ourselves. And for me, Rights of Nature is something so exciting because it’s a chance to put into words, to put into our governance, our true beliefs of what you were talking about – our spiritual connection to the landscape, and how we’re bound by our teaching and by all that we’ve inherited throughout the millennium, this ability to protect our landscape from—or like you said, that she’s supposed to able to protect themselves—or protect herself.

Alexis, would you like to follow-up with that a little bit more?

AB: So what non-indigenous people in this movement say is that it was often started by an important article called Do Trees Have Legal Standing? written by a legal scholar named Christopher Stone in 1972. But of course, that was not the start of the movement, and the movement had no start, because Rights of Nature is inherently about what Casey said, that we are nature; nature is protecting itself, and that indigenous values and ways of relating to the planet and understanding that we can’t frack, we can’t continually extract, we have to take care of it so it can take care of us. Nature is the boss, not us. These are indigenous ideas, and these are what is encapsulated in Rights of Nature law when it’s passed, when it’s put into the Western or dominant – I don’t like that word either, Casey – when it’s put into that code, it’s a way of indigenizing the law that is enforceable by the military powers we have in this world, essentially.

So there was the 1972 article, but before that we had indigenous worldview since time immemorial. And even for people who are descendants of colonizers, descendants of immigrants and settlers in settler colonial nations like the US, Cara mentioned blood memory. At some point back in their ancestry, everybody lived indigenous ways of life with nature, prior to capitalism, prior to feudalism, prior to this excess greedy accumulation of wealth, and the one percent getting richer and richer and richer off the backs of all of us through things like fracking, extractive industries, large industry that pollutes. The biggest contributors to greenhouse gases are just a few corporations in the world, and yet we’re told to recycle. So we need to look to our indigenous worldviews around Rights of Nature.

In 2008, Ecuador added Rights of Nature protections to its constitution. That was absolutely monumental. And depending on who you talk to, it was or wasn’t indigenous led, or maybe a partnership between indigenous and non-indigenous people. But what we’re seeing right now in the US with the tribally led Rights of Nature movement is that it truly is tribally led, going through votes, going through traditional means of governance through consensus. And what Casey has shown us is that if you adopt it as your tribal law before you stick it into your IRA constitution, that’s just done so that we can communicate with the US federal government and make sure that they don’t back up those industries that extract and frack. We have to play on their terms, but we play on our terms as well.

As I mentioned earlier, Casey’s tribe was the first to adopt Rights of Nature law. It was customary law, which was traditional law before these constitutions were placed upon us as a form of further assimilation. But since then, there have been moves. Cara mentioned the Ho Chunk. They voted to make an amendment to their tribal constitution. And as Cara said, it does have to go back to the feds and back. Takes about a year at least to ratify. We did see in 2019 the White Earth band of Ojibwe adopted the Rights of Manoomin, wild rice, which was amazing. And also in 2019, as Cara mentioned, the Yurok tribe recognized the personhood of the Klamath River. And Rights of Nature is just one in a series of fights the Yurok tribe has had for decades now to protect the river since it’s been dammed, since it’s been polluted, since it’s been over-fished. And these are multi-pronged strategies.

Klamath River (Bob Wick, Wikimedia Commons)

CR: Alexis, thank you so much for covering some of those current events happening with Rights of Nature globally.  Casey, this question is for you: Can you explain to the audience about the difference between customary law and laws set forth in tribal constitutions?

CCH: One is real, one is not. That’s as simple as it gets right there. So let’s start first with what’s called the BIA. Of course, in the AIM days we called that Boss Indians Around, but now we don’t even call ourselves Indians. Right? Now we’re—Maybe I can call it Boss Indigenous Around instead. But the BIA itself was created under the war department of the United States, and if one understands that concept, then you understand all the rest of it, all of the various acts, the forest removals, the boarding schools, the Relocation Act, the ICW Act [Indian Child Welfare Act] , the forced sterilizations, on and on and on, things that were—have been part of the fabric of how we have had to work through by finding these things called Rights of Nature or whatever it is that we’re using to exert sovereignty.

I believe that if one looks at the laws created by the Boss Indigenous Around people – I don’t know how to say it; the federal government of the United States – it was meant to eradicate us. From the time that Columbus came on the shores using the doctrine of discovery in order to murder and—and claim what the Great Mystery had in place here on Turtle Island or what is presently North America, however you want to use the term, for us among the Ponca, we can tell you where we originally came from and beyond that, the Star Nation that engendered us, when, and how, and what our track was across this—what they called the North American continent, and to the place that the Great Mystery asked us to caretake. Then we can chronicle where we were removed to and what happened to us there, my mother, being the first generation born in captivity in a POW camp called a reservation that we could not leave or we would be killed doing so.

Those laws created this BIA that created these things called constitutions that in theory sounded alright to them when they were looking at the Six Nations confederacy that had the original form of the constitution that they emulated. But when it was put on us, and I do mean put on us, because we had to carry the burdens of it through several generations, it was to create a way to further destroy and erode the culture in every single form. And the way to create—a way to buy votes, for instance, when we didn’t have that system at all.

I remember a sweet auntie of mine that was telling me about one of our corrupt politicians that had come to her home. And she said, you know, it’s amazing, because we only live a half a mile from the voting place there at the tribal affairs building, but he gave each one of us $20 for gas money. And she was so sweet it didn’t occur to her that that was bribery. You know?

But that constitution that was forced on us, that IRA governmental constitution, left us open to all of the things that would kill us – spiritually more than any other way, culturally to follow that – and to lend us the idea and the mindset that what was going on with people like the Trump government is acceptable, because we ended up with our own mini-Trumps – m-i-n-i Trumps, and m-a-n-y Trumps – in the manner in which they often looked at how our people could survive, because these were the survivors of the boarding schools that were running for office. They had already been subjected to being kidnapped, and they were already part of that syndrome of trying to survive through learning those ways and following those ways.

Traditional law, the original law, the natural law that was in place underneath, through, and part of this, has been the way that the Great Mystery set in place; is to honor all that is, participate in all that is. And, you know, and the simple way one recognizes that if one walks in the snow, one gets cold, that the water has frozen. If one walks in the summertime, then it’s a different season and a different way to understand how to live within the natural laws at that time.

And so those traditional laws, for the Ponca at least, were to recognize all things without ageism, without sexism, without aggrandizing those that took, but aggrandize those that gave. The society, the women’s society that we’re part of – Pa’thata – is an offshoot. We had four warrior societies for women society warriors, and those were when our men folks came back from the hunt, they came back from wherever they were in warfare, because we did have our territorial spats, you know, but when they brought things home, they brought the deer, and the buffalo, and the hides, and the blankets or whatever it was. The women, who were the caretakers of the entire village during that period of time, understood what was needed, and they provided a space, and a song, and a drum, and a dance that was to honor those things that had been brought, because those goods had value, intricate value in their life itself. Maybe it was even a pot that was a water carrier. That was important. But they also knew where the need was within the juvenile population, within the elders, within widows, within men who were raising their children alone, within the babies who were born with super special needs, or within those families – we have a family here called the others, used to be raises the others, and they were the ones who took in the orphans. And we knew who needed what. And we dispensed things and dispersed things. Those are the ways that you understand who your natural leaders are.

In our ways, we used to recognize what children’s special gifts were, and those children were allowed to express those gifts within every council that happened, not obtrusively, but respectfully, elders who had special gifts, elders who did not, it did not matter. We didn’t have a word for homeless. We didn’t have a jail. We did have rules so that if a man did not treat his wife correctly, if he was a woman beater, or someone who was abusive, he had to leave. He was not ever going to get to return to his family. Conversely a woman who did not take care of her children. Those had their own ways of understanding. Women had a time that they were set aside and honored at their monthly time when they were in tune with the moon mother and had their special strength of gift happening to them. All of these things that created a system that worked, and created a system where all was valued, whether that intrinsic value was that of a stone – because I know the story of my mother’s auntie on a forest removal, bringing four stones from our ancestral lands so that our piece of the Earth we were supposed to caretake came with us, and our ceremonial fireplace was cared for. The fire itself had its place in our—and the people who were the caretakers of that.

So the difference between IRA and traditional value system governments are not even in the same planet. They don’t even have this—the ability to tell you the sameness much less the difference in them.

And so the idea of these constitutions being revamped with what we call the Immutable Ponca Rights of Nature is something that we understand has to be built with the framework of understanding that as a sovereign people, everything has to be built inside that. Every bit of caretaking that it took even to put in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People has a certain framework that exerts sovereignty. And that’s where Rights of Nature is in my mind, is not only that tool to help us deal with the fossil fuel industry and those polluters – unfortunately rancher/farmers that have become killers of the Mother Earth instead of understanding sustainability also have to be held accountable for the poisons they put into the waters. All of those things come around to understanding the oneness of all and the allness of one that has to be not rediscovered but recognized.

Collage artwork by Mer Young

CR: We have the right to self-determine. We have the right to amend our constitutions to include Rights of Nature governance into law. We have the ability to learn about those frameworks that you’re talking about and learn what tools we do have available. And I believe, along with Alexis and many others working on this Rights of Nature initiative, that with those existing frameworks, and with those existing tools, we have the ability to self-determine and include Rights of Nature law into our constitutions.

I think that this is something that’s painfully missing from our present-day ways that we interact with each other legally. And for me, a place to leave a mark for our future generations in our constitution that really describes who we are as a people, to be able to adopt Rights of Nature law into our constitution really puts it in our constitution what our future generations could and should be able to look to for ways that we believe in governing ourselves and taking care of our ecosystem.

So I just wanted to share a little bit about organizing back home and learning about Rights of Nature. I went home and I went to our cultural center, which is a place where culture bearers and activists gather to talk, to talk story, to talk in a very casual way. It’s often around a potluck. That’s how we get people there, is through food. And we started talking about Rights of Nature, and I began to survey my community about Rights of Nature, just asking elders, asking youth, asking people that are my age, what if you could protect in perpetuity would you protect. And we had these incredible conversations that we had not had in my lifetime in a very long time, maybe within small individual families. And all the answers were the same. 

We wanted to protect the Colorado River. We wanted to protect our beautiful, pristine aquifer. We wanted to protect our resident animals, our flora and fauna. We wanted to protect our air quality.

And I went to my tribal council each month and I reported out – right, this is just self-organizing for other people that live in small tribal communities like my own, I got on the tribal council agenda, and oh man, I’m always scared to talk in front of tribal council; I’m always scared to talk in public usually, but we have to do these things even if we’re scared. Right? And I went and I reported out what all of the people in our community were saying about what they wanted protected in perpetuity. And the tribal council one by one came and thanked me. 

They thanked me because I think that they’re there to steer, but that the laws are supposed to come from the people, that we’re supposed to be organizing within and amongst ourselves. Maybe that’s a place where our customary laws can come in. And we came to a little bit of an impasse with my tribe on this idea of if we were going to adopt the language that we had come up with ourselves into a preamble in a constitution, and then an amendment for our tribal council to then have to uphold that preamble that said this is who we are, this is what we believe, these are all the things that we want to protect in perpetuity, the impasse came about whether we think that language is the most powerful and the most effective. So right now we’ve taken a pause and we’re consulting with lawyers, right, because we really want whatever we adopt into our constitution to be the most powerful language that can be upheld in tribal court, that can be upheld as those jurisdictions [INAUDIBLE]. So that’s kind of where we’re at.

CR: So that’s the first part of our conversation with Casey Camp Horinek. In part two, we talk to Casey about the journey her tribe is on to adopt rights of nature into their legal framework. And why rights of nature is so aligned with indigneous worldview.

AB: Yes, and you can hear and see more from Casey by going to our website bioneers.org. We have other episodes there to listen to and share, and we also offer other original Indigenous media content. You’ll also learn about the Indigeneity program and all of our initiatives, including curricula and learning materials for students and life-long learners

CR: Thank you for joining us for this episode of Indigeneity Conversations. It’s been a pleasure to share with all of you today. Many thanks and take care!


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Plant Teachers: Ayahuasca, Tobacco and the Pursuit of Knowledge

Jeremy Narby

“Once again the brilliant advocate of ‘bi-cognitive’ consciousness, with his usual crystalline clarity and scalpel-sharp precision, Jeremy Narby continues his unique lifelong exploration of how the tension between scientific and shamanic paths to knowledge can trigger penetrating new insights. In dialogue with his deeply informed, profoundly sophisticated interlocutor, Shawi healer Rafael Chanchari Pizuri, Jeremy dives into rarely discussed aspects of traditional Amazonian plant usage and the most updated scientific research on the topic, offering a much-needed corrective in a field recently deluged with far too many half-baked, overly romanticized takes on shamanism.”—J. P. Harpignies, Bioneers Senior Producer

Rafael Chanchari Pizuri

For Indigenous societies across the globe, plants that are considered poisonous, harmful, and even criminal serve as medicines and sources of deep contemplative wisdom. Although Western medicine treats tobacco as a harmful addictive drug, tobacco bridges the physical and spiritual realms. Along with ayahuasca, tobacco forms a part of treatments designed to heal the body, stimulate the mind, and inspire the soul with visions.

In their new book Plant Teachers: Ayahuasca, Tobacco, and the Pursuit of Knowledge (2021), trailblazing anthropologist, Jeremy Narby, and an Indigenous Amazonian healer, Rafael Chanchari Pizuri, explore the convergence of science and shamanism.


…Amazonian people tend to view tobacco as a medicine. The anthropological literature abounds with statements to this effect. For the Huni Kuin people in Brazil, tobacco is “the quintessential healing substance.” For the Matsigenka people in Peru, “tobacco is a medicine in the fullest sense.” More generally speaking, tobacco “is the shamanic plant par excellence in South America … without which no shamanic activity can take place.” Blowing tobacco smoke on a patient or applying tobacco juice to the part of the body that appears to be suffering is “the most common healing practice … in the whole Amazonian region.” 

However, it is important to note that Amazonian people tend not to make a radical distinction between “medicine” and “poison.” Some Amazonian languages use the same word to refer to both concepts. From their perspective, tobacco fits the bill as both a toxic plant and a medicinal one; as Rafael Chanchari says, tobacco has two souls, one for medicine, the other for malice. 

This aligns with the ambiguity of the first known uses of the term pharmakon, from which we get the words pharmacy, pharmaceutics, and pharmacology. In ancient Greek, pharmakon can refer to a remedy or a poison. Paracelsus famously made this point by distinguishing poison and cure by dose…

That’s how it is with plant teachers. They are powerful, dangerous entities. One can establish alliances with them, and work with them prudently and respectfully, but one never masters them. At best, one can avoid being mastered by them….

This short book lays out two ways of considering psychoactive plants. Integrating these two approaches into a coherent and holistic understanding is a complex undertaking. I do not wish to tell readers how to proceed on this count because it is important to allow people to reach their own conclusions according to their views of the world. But I can give a testimony about how I deal with the question on a personal basis. 

…I was educated in rationalism and materialism. To this day, if I want to understand something — a virus, a plant, a vaccine — I look into what science says about it. I want to know about the molecules I take into my body, and if possible, what they do once they’re inside. 

And because I take molecules seriously, I know that there are many things science does not understand. Scientists may have determined that nicotine plays an important part in tobacco’s activity, but they have no clear idea about what goes on in the body, brain, and mind of a tobacco shaman who is “turning into a jaguar.” 

Having had the privilege of spending time with Amazonian people, I know they have deep knowledge about plants, bodies, and minds that they express in personalized terms, rather than in molecular ones. Time and again I have found that taking their views seriously leads to verifiable and useful knowledge. Now I consider indigenous Amazonian knowledge as a coherent way of knowing that can be used in parallel to science. 

I compare using these two systems of knowledge to speaking two languages. As a bilingual person, I know that English allows one to say things that French does not, and vice versa…So thinking the world in English or in French is not the same, even for someone fluent in both languages. Of course, translation from one to the other is always possible. But exact word-for-word translations tend to sound strange, and translators face the dilemma of making less-faithful choices to convey the rhythm or emotion of the original — meaning that translation can border on betrayal. And some things simply do not translate at all. None of this means that one language is better than the other, just that speaking both well, and going back and forth between the two, takes constant practice… 

The same is true when it comes to combining science and indigenous knowledge. Since 1990 or so, the scientific view of plants has moved away from a strictly materialist and mindless perspective, and scientists now recognize that plants perceive, communicate, decide, learn, and remember. They may not be ready to personify plants just yet, but they have moved closer to the indigenous view of plants as intelligent entities. So do plants have personalities? For instance, does tobacco really have a “mother”? Many years ago, I had great difficulty taking the notion of “the mother of tobacco” seriously. But I no longer see a problem in considering that the plant has something like a powerful personality. In my experience, consuming tobacco was like meeting a fiery person. As a young anthropologist, I found that a single dose of strong tobacco impacted my personality: it made me feel warm, powerful, predatory, and wise — and in such a deep way that I can summon those feelings decades later and tap into them. I do not ask anybody to believe that tobacco really has a personality. Nor am I sure that I believe it really does either. In fact, I am not that interested in belief. But I do think that considering tobacco as if it has a personality is interesting, and probably not that far off the mark. 

Bioneers 2021 Day 3: Honoring Our Connections

The final day of the 2021 Bioneers Conference is coming to an end, and we’re beyond inspired by everything we’ve learned and every Bioneers in our community. 

Appropriately, today’s speakers reminded us of the importance of drawing connections and honoring life’s intersections. Just as we all came together this week to grow — by attending the Conference or simply by reading these emails — nature relies on points of connection, exemplified by the mother trees in old-growth forests studied by keynote speaker Suzanne Simard. Effective movements rely on intersectionality and ensuring no group is left behind, which keynote speakers Manuel Pastor and Alexia Leclercq expertly spoke about. It is clear now more than ever before that we need each other. Our connections are our strength.

Following are some of our key takeaways from today. Thank you deeply for your support of this year’s Bioneers Conference.


SAVE THE DATE FOR BIONEERS 2022!

Bioneers is excited to announce the dates for our return to a live in-person gathering, May 13-15, 2022. Please save the date and sign up below for more information and to be notified when the program is announced and registration opens!


KENNY AUSUBEL – The Sting: The Role of Fraud in Nature

Bioneers Co-Founder Kenny Ausubel’s address is a highlight of every Bioneers Conference. The full text of his talk from today is now available to read online. You can find it here.

LESSONS, IN THEIR OWN WORDS:

  • “First, we need to center the struggle for racial equity and against racism. Second, we need to craft a new economic story that can become common sense, a new economic story that recognizes our mutuality, a new economic story that motivates us for social change. And third, we’re only really going to get there if we commit to social movements for change.” -Manuel Pastor; Director | Equity Research Institute, USC + Solidarity Economics
  • “Nature is sending us extravagant distress signals these days. Earth is a hot mess. From COVID to climate catastrophe to fascism, the perils of disinformation are a matter of life and death. … We’d better get really good, really fast at reading Nature’s mind. The stakes are too high to keep drinking the collective Kool-Aid.” -Kenny Ausubel; Co-Founder | Bioneers
  • “Forests are so important globally because even though they only cover one-third of our land area, they store between 70 and 80% of the carbon in the terrestrial systems. They’re home to 80% of the species. They provide 80% of our clean water. They provide the oxygen we breathe. They are absolutely fundamental to our life support systems. And so saving these old-growth forests now is the number one thing that we need to do.” -Suzanne Simard; Professor of Forest Ecology | University of British Columbia
  • “Social justice is climate justice because the root cause is the same. If we don’t center social justice in the fight for climate justice, we won’t get anywhere.” -Alexia Leclercq; Co-Founder | Start: Empowerment
  • “Being wealthy within some of our nations meant that the more you gave the wealthier you were. I think that confuses people sometimes. It’s foreign to settler mentality. We need to build an Indigenous-led regenerative economy built on compassion.” -Sikowis Nobiss; Founder | Great Plains Action Society
  • “We need to prioritize nature-based solutions instead of grey infrastructure. It’s integrating community at every level and it also starts with looking at solutions that center restoration and regeneration first before we build a bunch of stuff on top of it.” -Ariel Whitson; Director of Education and Community | TreePeople
  • “The first time I spoke before my City Council about climate change, I told them I was scared. Then others started coming up to me and saying they were scared, too. I realized we’re not alone facing systemic injustice, and that’s what gives me hope.” -Artemisio Romero y Carver; Co-Founder | Youth United for Climate Crisis Action (YUCCA)
From top left and clockwise: Rising Appalachia, Nalleli Cobo, Manuel Pastor, Suzanne Simard

CAMPAIGNS TO FOLLOW AND SUPPORT

  • Support Start:Empowerment, a BIPOC-led social and environmental justice education non-profit working with schools, teachers, community organizations and leaders to implement justice-focused curriculum and programming. (Mentioned by Alexia Leclercq in her keynote address.)
  • Learn more about the importance of mother trees for forest and environmental preservation with The Mother Tree Project. (Mentioned by Suzanne Simard in her keynote address.)
  • Take an interactive tour through LA’s urban oil drilling sites and their impact on the children, families, and Angelenos who live near them. (Mentioned by Nalleli Cobo in her keynote address.)
  • Become a community forester with TreePeople and create your own tree-planting events. (Mentioned by Ariel Lew Ai Le Whitson in the panel Biophilic Infrastructure: Letting Nature Lead the Way)
  • Find action tools to help make sure your campus is herbicide-free. (Mentioned by Mackenzie Feldmanin the panel Our Power: Exemplary Young Activists—the 2021 Brower Youth Awards Winners.)
  • Support Climate Resolve, which is tackling climate change, creating a thriving California and inspiring others to act. (Mentioned by Natalie Hernandez in the panel Solidarity Economics: Our Economy, Our Planet, Our Movements.)

INVEST IN CHANGE

By supporting Bioneers, you’re supporting an entire community of diverse leadership who are realizing breakthrough solutions. Every gift – large and small – really counts. Monthly giving and multi-year gifts assure our long-term impact. Future generations are counting on us.

GIVE NOW.

The Sting: The Role of Fraud in Nature

The following talk was delivered by Bioneers Co-Founder Kenny Ausubel at the 2021 Bioneers Conference.

The Sting

Biomimicry, the design science of “innovation inspired by nature,” is unearthing untold treasures from nature’s playbook that we can emulate for our technological and industrial operating instructions. But naturally, as human beings, we’re meaning-making creatures who are suckers for a good story or metaphor.

Kenny Ausubel

It’s seductive to search the biomimicry database for lessons we can apply to human social relations. Some call it “social biomimicry.”

After all, who can resist the metaphor of geese that fly in a V formation and rotate the lead goose to lighten the load of bucking the most severe wind resistance?

Or the Seven Sisters oak trees in Louisiana that can withstand fierce hurricanes because their roots grow together to make an underground community of resilience.

These natural-world metaphors are “megaphors”—archetypal ecological parables for how we might better organize ourselves as societies and with each other.

The problem is: Every species is unique and uniquely fitted to its context, place, and time. People are not geese or oak trees. And frankly, even as seriously weird species go, human beings are . . . well . . . special.

Yet we are amazing mimics, and surely we can learn a riff or two from the symphony of life. But looking around at the dreadful state of the world, you have to wonder: Is there some deeper form of social biomimicry already in play that we’re not seeing?

Indeed, it’s slyly hiding in plain sight. You might call it the role of fraud in nature.

Nature wrote the playbook on deceit. From horny toads to Wall Street, nature is a hall of mirrors of lying, cheating, and camouflaging. After all, if force doesn’t work, trickery can do the trick. Shady practices can give any organism a winning edge in the ruthless struggle for survival and reproduction that powers evolution and adaptation.

As David Livingstone Smith observed in his book Why We Lie, “Lying is a natural phenomenon. The biosphere teems with mendacity. Deception is widespread among nonhuman species, perfectly normal and expectable.” Human beings, says Smith, evolved to be “natural born liars.”

Among our closest cousins, the monkeys and apes, deceit is pervasive. Their brains grew in direct correlation with the size of their groups. Smith suggests that “double dealing and suspicion might have been the driving forces behind the explosion of brainpower.”

In turn, the prized neocortex of the Homo sapiens brain—our much vaunted thinking capability—also grew in direct correlation with the size and social complexity of our groups. Then came language. The rest is hearsay.

Nonhuman primates use extensive grooming rituals to establish stable social bonds, cliques, and power structures.  With Homo sapiens, language replaced public grooming with private gossip. As the psychologist and cognitive neuroscientist Merlin Donald suggests, we may have developed language because we “needed to gossip, forge alliances, win friends and neutralize enemies.” We spend 80 to 90 percent of our conversations talking about other people. Two-thirds of that is about our immediate social networks.

The war of words exponentially escalated the arsenal of deceit, espionage, and manipulation. Evolution has favored these traits.

As Smith observes, “From the fairy tales our parents told us to the propaganda our governments feed us, human beings spend their lives surrounded by pretense. . . . The founding myth of the Judeo-Christian tradition, the story of Adam and Eve, revolves around a lie . . . Eve told God, ‘The serpent deceived me and I ate.’”

From faked orgasms to laugh tracks, from bots to financial fraud, from the white lies of social graces to political spin, Homo sapiens—Wise Man—might more accurately be dubbed Wise Guy in a Tony Soprano kind of way. After all, humans are a predatory species, and our main prey is our own kind—for the usual suspects of sex, food, survival, or status.

And of course here in the US, we are legend as a nation of hustlers. So says historian Walter A. McDougall, the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Freedom Just Around the Corner. Of course, he says, being hustlers has a positive side—a nation of “builders, doers, go-getters, dreamers, hard workers, inventors, organizers, engineers and a people supremely generous.”

But, McDougall points out, “Americans have enjoyed more opportunity to pursue their ambitions, by foul means or fair, than any other people in history. No wonder American English is uniquely endowed with words connoting a swindle.”

Here’s just a sample of some of the verbs he lists, starting with the Bs and Cs: “Bait, bamboozle, bilk, bite, blackmail, bleed, blindside, bluff, buffalo, burn…  caboodle, cheat, chisel, clip, con, connive, conspire . . . ”

Now, the list goes on—and on—but it looks to me as if he missed one of the supreme swindling Cs: corporation. Because, if you’re looking to defraud, delude, double-cross, dupe, embezzle, fleece, gouge, hoodwink, hornswoggle, mislead, mug, rig, rip off, sandbag, scam, screw, shaft, shortchange, snooker, or just plain sucker the public in the Grand American Tradition, you’ve got to have a corporation.

Mimicry is one of the best tricks in the book, and perhaps we’re hardwired to mimic nature’s bag of tricks without even knowing it. So, let’s go back to nature for some master classes on the sting.

If you want to observe one classic sting in nature, check out bee orchids. To attract male wasps to pollinate them, the orchids not only impersonate an insect sex goddess, they exude a fragrance even more bewitching than the real sexual attractant of the females they’re mimicking.

The male wasps, which mature a month before the females, lurch from orchid to orchid, looking for love in all the wrong places. Meanwhile they spread the wily orchids’ pollen in fruitless grand rounds of aptly called “pseudocopulation” that don’t get no satisfaction, at least not for them.

That pseudocopulation brings to mind the CARES Act. Designed to look like one of the sexiest government programs ever conceived, the $2.3 trillion legislation was actually packaged by the financial masters of the universe to spread the nectar of wealth mightily among the rarefied orchids of high finance. Led by Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, aka the King of Foreclosures, the Act leveraged $454 billion dollars in free business-rescue cash by ten-fold through the Federal Reserve.

While the average American got a stingy $1,200 handout, the Fed appointed BlackRock, the world’s largest asset manager and “shadow bank,” to dole out somewhere between $4 to $6 trillion to bail out really Big Business from a foul portfolio of toxic assets, including Blackrock’s own. Meanwhile they ferociously capitalized on a fire sale of distressed Main Street businesses left to twist in the wind.

As Matt Taibbi put it, “The financial economy is a fantasy casino where the winnings are real, but free chips cover the losses. For a rarified segment of society, failure is being written out of the capitalist bargain.” Pseudocopulation indeed.

Back a little closer to home with our nearest primate cousins, David Livingstone Smith observes this: “Nonhuman species have their own version of fire and brimstone preaching.” Using these “ritualized signals of displays,” we seem to be aping our ape kin to manipulate others.

We deploy the same techniques of “redundancy, rhythmic repetition, bright packaging and supernormal stimuli”—running a relentless sensory overload loop of brassy ads for cars, phones, political candidates, and ideologies.

Take bright packaging. Recent research has identified conspicuousness as a key strategic defense against predators. It’s called “signal extravagance.” Flashy conspicuous prey are flaunting the fact they’ve survived encounters with predators, who therefore tend to avoid them. A bright butterfly that’s toxic or distasteful to birds soon generates imposters among its kind. They imitate its colors and patterns in a kind of visual identity theft.

Signal extravagance brings to mind Agent Orange, aka Trump L’Oeil. He has flaunted his technicolor toxicity to deter countless lawsuits against his chem trail of criminality. His conspicuous political extravagance has attracted a coterie of troll models. Republican imposters and Foxy media hacks have adopted the predator-proof poisonous colors of the too-mean-to-fail defense.

Then again, keeping a low profile also has potent advantages. Another popular form of mimicry in plants and animals is crypsis, the art of concealment. Many plants and creatures have evolved to blend in with their surroundings—mimicking a stone, piece of coral, a branch, or bird droppings.

Crypsis is the name of the game for Dark Money gone gonzo. As much as $36 trillion dollars of dark money is stashed in offshore black holes. Corporations use them to dodge an estimated $245 billion to $600 billion a year in taxes. The kleptocrat laundromat casts a cloak of invisibility around buried treasures that now exceed 10% of global GDP.

An estimated $1 trillion dollars a year exits the world’s developing countries in laundered money and tax avoidance. Untraceable shell companies are behind the majority of clandestine investment linked to Amazon deforestation, illegal fishing, and other high crimes against nature and humanity.

As the Pandora Papers revealed, the new American industry of impenetrable trusts rivals even the opacity of offshore shell companies. Alaska, Delaware, Nevada, New Hampshire and South Dakota are the new Cayman Islands Family Tax Vacation. There the trusts conceal and protect assets from creditors, taxing authorities and foreign governments. Best of all, the trusts can be passed down from generation to generation as a dynasty trust – a kind of a plutocratic seventh generation fund. It adds a whole new meaning to “Trust me.”

But of course, going back to nature, you can also trick the tricksters—as does the highly intelligent octopus Thaumoctopus mimicus. T. mimicus is able to shape-shift and shade-shift into a Lady Gaga wardrobe of disguises. It can disappear itself into the exact pattern and coloration of its surroundings. It can scare off predators by taking on the appearance of the highly toxic lionfish. If attacked by a damselfish, it morphs one of its arms into the visage of the fearsome sea snake that eats damselfish.

Which brings to mind that ultimate shape-shifter and master of disguise. Like T. Mimicus, Big Tech has customized deceit. Their manipulation machines personalize information microtargeted just for you.

Perhaps it’s Amazon’s God’s-eye view of the economy that alters prices based on your purchase history by predicting the maximum you’re likely to pay.

Or perhaps, as Shoshana Zuboff puts it, “We thought we search Google, but it searches us.” Google has designed its business on predictive data extraction that it uses to glean and sway our thoughts, feelings and desires. As one data scientist put it, we write the music and people dance to it.

Or perhaps it’s Facebook’s algorithmic muscularity that prioritizes divisive, polarizing and hateful content to entrain our attention. It works especially well for demagogues, while marginalizing the voices of the marginalized.

As Barry Lynn puts it, “The problem with personalized discrimination is that, even as it empowers the masters of these corporations to atomize prices, it atomizes society at the same time.”

These wealthiest corporations in the history of the world are the overlords of surveillance capitalism. Their success, says Zuboff, “depends on one-way mirror operations engineered for our ignorance, and wrapped in a fog of misdirection, euphemism and mendacity. They exploit the widening inequity of knowledge for the sake of profits. They manipulate the economy, our society, and even our lives with impunity, endangering not only individual privacy, but democracy itself. We may have democracy, or we may have surveillance society, but we may not have both.”

As Jason Stanley, author of “How Fascism Works,” warns: “When you take away truth, and you can’t speak truth to power, all that remains is power.”

Of course, from an evolutionary perspective, lying is a double-edged sword. On the plus side, self-deception is especially valuable when lying to others because we convincingly believe our own hokum.

We also lie to ourselves to diminish stress. Inevitably, we’re the heroes of our own stories, and of course we all know that every one of us is above average. Then again, research on depressives has found they may suffer from a deficit of self-deception.

On the downside of self-deception, Big Oil is the slipperiest. Feigning ignorance may be the worst scam of all – gee, who knew?!

An internal 1988 memo from Royal Dutch Shell projected that climate impacts from burning fossil fuels could include “significant changes in sea level, ocean currents, precipitation patterns, regional temperature and weather.” The changes would impact “the human environment, future living standards and food supplies, and could have major social, economic and political consequences.”

Shell concluded this: “By the time the global warming becomes detectable, it could be too late to take effective countermeasures to reduce the effects or even to stabilize the situation.”

While raising the height of its offshore platforms against rising seas and bigger storms, Shell then joined with other fossil fuel companies who also knew. They formed the Global Climate Coalition, which powered up the most catastrophically successful disinformation campaign in history.

Today, the energy sector is ranked dead last among major sectors in the US economy. It knows it’s an industry with a vanishing future. As a result, fossil fuel propaganda pivoted from denial to delay. Hey, let’s talk 2050.

Its advertising is misdirecting us with five messages: Redirect responsibility – it’s consumers’ fault. Push non-transformative solutions. Emphasize the downside of action as too disruptive. And just plain surrender and adapt – it can’t be done quickly.

Oh, and by the way, it will adversely affect marginalized communities. Greenwashing has a new friend called “wokewashing.”

The conundrum is that nature does not gladly suffer fools, errors and delusions. Self-deception may prove to be our evolutionary Achilles heel.

Yet some part of our brain seems designed to act as an unconscious mind reader. We pick up reality-based signals even as we up the ante in the Olympics of deceit and self-deception.

Deep inside, we all possess a bullshit detector. That may be what saves us.

Nature is sending us extravagant distress signals. Earth is a hot mess. From Covid to climate catastrophe to fascism, the perils of disinformation are a matter of life and death.

As Kim Stanley Robinson writes, “Pursuing profit as the ultimate goal of all our activities will lead to a mass-extinction event. We are operating a multi-generational Ponzi scheme.”

We’d better get really good, really fast at reading Nature’s mind. The stakes are too high to keep drinking the collective Kool-Aid.

You can’t fool Mother Nature. That ain’t no lie. Trust me.

This piece was adapted from a 2011 Huffington Post article by Kenny Ausubel.

Bioneers 2021 Day 2: Finding Balance

As the second day of the 2021 Bioneer Conference winds to a close, we’re reflecting on the necessity of balance. Today, we heard leaders talk about the importance of finding balance within ourselves as well as working toward balance as a society and planet. We’re grateful for their words of wisdom.

Following are some of our key takeaways from today.


NINA SIMONS: From Discipline to Discipleship: Cultivating Love, Collaboration & Imagination

The full text of Bioneers Co-Founder Nina Simons’ keynote address from this morning is now available to read online. You can find it here.


LESSONS, IN THEIR OWN WORDS:

  • “Colonial capitalist cosmology is driving damage around the globe in ways that are making a healthy life for humans impossible, and that damage will continue until the cosmology and the systems it imagines into reality are abolished and replaced with ones that recognize our interconnectedness and ones that center care.” -Rupa Marya; Faculty Director | Do No Harm Coalition + Founder | The Deep Medicine Circle
  • “Those of us who want to help make positive change in the world have got to grapple with the vast imbalance of the power differentials we face. Our class and racial inequities are so systemic and so ingrained that no matter how hard I try, I continue to discover my own blind spots and embedded patterns of white supremacy and privilege. It’s excavation work we’ve got to be willing to undertake, no matter how uncomfortable it is, as the need is so urgent and great.” -Nina Simons; Co-Founder | Bioneers
  • “There might be ways that our humanity and our collective future can be brightened if you have it in your heart to believe that the civilizing mission was wrong, that the St. Joseph’s missions of the worlds had it all backwards, that in fact, in the long run, it’s all of you who have something to learn from all of us; that maybe America, Canada and the so-called ‘civilized’ world should become just a little bit more indigenous rather than the other way around.” -Julian Brave NoiseCat; Director of Green New Deal Strategy | Data for Progress
  • “It’s going to take young people recognizing our power, getting the resources and the skills that we need to harness that power, and then ultimately creating the change that we deem necessary in our local communities. There has never been a large successful movement for change without young people.” -Alexandria Gordon; Student Organizer | Florida PIRG Students 
  • “It is not okay to assign saving the world to 17-year-olds as if it’s some kind of homework problem. They cannot do it themselves. They need the rest of us backing them up, and in particular, I think, they need those of us in the baby boomer and silent generations, those of us above the age of 60.” -Bill McKibben | 350.org + Third Act
  • “I think we have to uplift the complexities of our people and realize that they’re not just one thing. That person selling drugs has a story. We have to uplift that story and not just condemn people.” -Jason Seals; Professor of African American Studies and Chair of Ethnic Studies | Merritt College
  • “People who have been oppressed have had to struggle to survive, and that struggle has also informed us as women as to what the imbalances are. Where the challenge is. It is time to hear and learn from all the unseen and unspoken and unheard. That includes the voice of Mother Earth and nature. It is the time of women rising.” -Osprey Orielle Lake; Founder and Executive Director | Women’s Earth and Climate Action Network (WECAN) International
From top left clockwise: Bill McKibben, Rupa Marya, Julian Brave NoiseCat, Alexandria Gordon

CAMPAIGNS TO FOLLOW AND SUPPORT

  • Support The Deep Medicine Circle, a WOC-led, worker-directed nonprofit organization dedicated to repairing critical relationships that have been fractured through colonialism. (Mentioned by Rupa Marya in her keynote address.)
  • Ban fossil fuel advertising and sponsorships by signing this Greenpeace petition, which has almost reached its goal. (Mentioned by Michelle Jonker-Argueta in the panel Tell it to the Judge, Big Oil)
  • Download the Student PIRGs activist toolkit, which provides the basic tools to run strong campaigns and win victories for students and the public interest. (Mentioned by Alexandria Gordon in her keynote address.)
  • Get involved with Third Act, a new campaign that invites people over 60 to harness their collective power to impact major movements. (Mentioned by Bill McKibben in his keynote address.)
  • Read this 2021 report that details the gendered and racial impacts of the fossil fuel industry in North America and complicit financial institutions. (Mentioned by Osprey Orielle Lak in the panel Nature + Justice + Women’s Leadership: A Strategic Trio for Effective Change)
  • Support Data for Progress, a multidisciplinary group of experts using state-of-the-art techniques in data science to support progressive activists and causes. (Mentioned by Julian Brave NoiseCat in his keynote address.)
  • Hold big oil accountable for decades of deception by signing this Center for International Environmental Law petition. (Mentioned by Carroll Muffett in the panel Tell it to the Judge, Big Oil)

INVEST IN CHANGE

By supporting Bioneers, you’re supporting an entire community of diverse leadership who are realizing breakthrough solutions. Every gift – large and small – really counts. Monthly giving and multi-year gifts assure our long-term impact. Future generations are counting on us.

GIVE NOW.

From Discipline to Discipleship: Cultivating Love, Collaboration & Imagination

In this keynote from the 2021 Bioneers conference, Bioneers Co-founder Nina Simons draws from vast and varied cultural touchpoints – from Indigenous wisdom to Biblical storytelling to pop icon Patti Smith and intellectual heavyweight Cornel West – to share her journey towards uncovering and embracing the role of discipline in service of cultivating our hearts’ capacity to love.

By reframing and re-imagining discipline as disciple-ship, Nina addresses the necessary inward turning, self-examination and reflection that is integral to addressing the layers of unconscious bias that live within us. She asks each of us to hear the subsequent call to rigorous action needed – both individually and collectively – to eradicate Patriarchy, Colonialism, Racism and Capitalism in this massive era of change… and to build the future our hearts yearn for.

Nina Simons

What I feel called to share with you are some of the ideas, practices and perspectives that I’m finding useful to find my way through the uncertainty, grief and anger of this massive era of change. It’s a time that one of my beloved mentors, Joanna Macy, named The Great Turning.

To remember and retrieve my own agency, my sense of sovereignty and connection to the sacred, I’m peeling away layers of unconscious biases inherited from a constellation of deadly systems whose violence is being amplified by a pandemic: Patriarchy, Colonialism, Racism and Capitalism.

Sylvia Federici’s book, Caliban and the Witch helped me understand the inter-relatedness of those four diabolical systems – well beyond my earlier observation that living in a female body opens an empathic window on injustice for me and for all women.

She reveals how the consolidation of a capitalist system was dependent on 3 things:

the subjugation of women, the enslavement of black & Indigenous people, and the exploitation of colonized lands to extract resources. She details how the unpaid labor of women and of enslaved workers was a necessary foundation for capitalism to take root.

For me, capitalism’s driving purpose – to commodify and monetize ever more of our lives and nature, while increasing profits at all costs – is gaining ground as a primary culprit of the predicaments we’re in.

As a species, we’re facing nothing less than a near-death experience. Thankfully, throughout the history of times such as these, people have shown a capacity to rapidly change values, precipitating large-scale change.

Of all the resources we have available to cultivate ourselves to best survive this tumultuous time, to contribute to co-creating the future that our hearts yearn for I believe that cultivating our hearts’ capacity to love is the most powerful, most enduring and most regenerative of all.

I’m learning that disciplining my heart is central to increasing that ability.

The word discipline used to trigger an immediate reaction in me of rebellion, resistance and defiance. I assumed that it implied some external authority that I needed to resist, in order to protect or defend my own agency.

But that changed when another idea of discipline landed within me – reframed as disciple-ship. When applied to any aspect of myself, it means taking on an intentional apprenticeship. Now, it involves humbling myself to learn to do something more consciously and purposefully than I had before. In this case, to relate to my heart’s immense love and yearning.

But for me to become a more effective and magnetic lover of life, in the midst of all this tumult, I need to be rigorous with myself. Remembering or relearning how to value myself for my uniqueness and intrinsic value and discarding old habits of comparison and self-judgement that limit my expression.

To hold myself accountable I must give up my complacency, my learned helplessness and my rationalizations.

To love and care for yourself is not a self-indulgent act. It’s essential for each of us to embody the world we want to co-create, and to become more able to contribute meaningfully to it. By loving ourselves, we deepen our capacity to love others, and as we do so, we can become far more effective allies and advocates for changing the systems that oppress and destroy so many of those we love. Cornel West says “justice is what love looks like in public.”

I know I need to apply discipline (or discipleship) in how I relate to those I don’t agree with, or people who are decidedly different from me. This is not easy to do, but also so necessary.

Those of us who want to help make positive change in the world have got to grapple with the vast imbalance of the power differentials we face. Our class and racial inequities are so systemic and so ingrained that no matter how hard I try, I continue to discover my own blind spots and embedded patterns of white supremacy and privilege. It’s excavation work we’ve got to be willing to undertake, no matter how uncomfortable it is, as the need is so urgent and great.

In the biblical tale of David and Goliath, a small shepherd boy conquers a giant by slinging a rock at his exposed forehead. According to Malcolm Gladwell’s read of the story, we tend to think of David’s victory as a miracle, as proof that sometimes, the weak can conquer the strong.

He proposes, though, that David’s win may have less to do with luck than with our perspective. The things we assume to be disadvantages. Taking a novel approach, innovation and creativity are often an advantage. And fighting a giant weighed down with too much history or money may actually put them at a disadvantage. Having lived through prior traumatic events can confer strength.

Gladwell also notes that while underdog tactics can be highly successful, many don’t adopt them because they require harder work, greater adaptability and a willingness to think outside the box.

But with so much at stake in every domain of our lives, it’s a time to exercise discipline as discipleship. And to act, even if we feel scared and even though we know it’s hard.

The path ahead promises to be challenging, hard and uncertain. It requires higher levels of centering, practice, accountability and responsibility.

For me, it means shedding old simplistic and idealistic notions I held, often unconsciously – that change was possible without action or confrontation, that leadership was possible without sacrifice, and that I didn’t have to adopt a warrior stance to be an activist. As I’ve sought to leverage my privilege to become a better ally with Indigenous and other people of color’s struggles it’s required humility, dedication and perseverance from me. And it’s definitely a work in progress.

But for the future my heart yearns for, we’ll need lots of us stretching our skillfulness to create connective tissue among our communities, our movements, and our issues. To succeed, we surely need each other – and many of us – all together.

Over a thousand years ago, the Iroquois Five Nations or Haudenosaunee had been in violent cycles of destruction, with endless conflict and revenge killings for many years. The Peacemaker was born among them, and he brought them into unity by the clarity of his vision, and by sharing the Great Law of Peace.

As Onondaga Faithkeeper Oren Lyons tells it, the law’s basic elements are three-fold:

The first is peace. They all laid down their arms and agreed to fight no more.

The second is the power of the great minds united, the amplified intelligence of the collective.

And the third was symbolized as one bowl, one spoon.

That means to honor Life’s limits, and to share, with gratitude and equity among the people.

Much later, some of the governance principals of the Haudenosaunee Six Nations Confederacy informed the creation of the US Constitution and Bill of Rights. Their model of gender equity inspired the US women’s suffrage movement of the early 1900s.

It’s the people rising up in collaborative movements that I choose to believe in. The peoples’ voices together speaking in many tongues:

Enough! Basta! Arréte! No more Blah Blah! It’s time for Change!

That vision asks us to become connective tissue together to embody the power, strength and interconnectedness of all the issues we face.

Sadly, though, many among our populations have an easier time imagining the end of the world than the end of capitalism. As the Guardian columnist George Monbiot recently noted, “then let’s begin by imagining something that’s easier to comprehend: the end of concentrated wealth. Our survival depends on it.”

May we fling open the doors and windows of our minds to let some fresh air in and be willing to risk that change.

Pat McCabe, also known as Woman Stands Shining, a colleague and friend from the Diné or Navajo Nation, offered a challenge: she suggested we need to find ways to love the future.

When I heard her words, I realized how often I’ve held the future in a dim light.

I recognized how hard it’s become to hold a future vision that my heart can fully embrace.

In the late 1980’s, well before apartheid ended in South Africa, then journalist Catherine Ingram interviewed Desmond Tutu. She noticed that he kept saying, “when we end apartheid.” At that time, she thought “yeah right, dream on.”

Afterward, she reflected: “I didn’t want to rain on his parade or anything, but in my heart of hearts, I thought, not in your lifetime. And lo and behold, a year and a half later, it was over. It was really a profound lesson about what can happen when the will of people aligns.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to see massive changes while they are emergent. But we must be able to imagine them, watch for them, name them, continue working towards their happening, invest our hearts in their outcomes, make art that calls them in, speak and dance and pray them into being.

Now, learning to love our future is becoming part of my practice, not in a naïve way or one that denies the truth or complexity of what is, but as part of my discipleship towards cultivating congruence.

In many ways, our greatest challenge may be to unleash our imaginations. To be able to visualize, and feel in an embodied, emotive way the future we want, the futures our hearts desire, the futures we yearn for and imagine are possible.

In a recent interview about Climate Change, Michael Pollan, the writer who’s tackled issues as complex and varied as our industrialized food systems, psychedelics and consciousness, said he believes we still have a real chance as a species to shift our course.

He said “Nothing is inevitable; everything’s evitable; and that’s really important.

We’re very fatalistic. People assume things are the way they have to be and they’re not.”

As meaning-making creatures, we are innovative and hard-wired for story.

But these gifts are multivalent: they can be both a blessing and a curse,

and everything in between. What this means is that it all comes back to agency, to our ability to choose, moment by moment, what path to take, how to interpret what happens, and how to respond to it. To help shape our lives, both individually and communally.

To be in discipleship to growing ourselves and loving life, while stretching to become connective tissue with each other.

To being able to lovingly and whole-heartedly, with acceptance and courage, engage ourselves in this period of intense change.

I hope that in the future, this era may become known as “The Time of the Great Alliance” or “The Time of Rivers Coming Together.”

As Patti Smith sang to a crowd of 30,000 global activists assembled in Glasgow, Scotland, gathered to address climate change at COP26,

People have the power

The power to dream, to rule

To wrestle the Earth from fools.

Listen, I believe everything we dream

Can come to pass through our union.

May it be so.

Bioneers 2021 Day 1: Looking Beneath the Surface

Day 1 of the 2021 Bioneers Conference introduced brilliant speakers and inspirational conversations. We were asked repeatedly to look beneath the surface, both metaphorically (in the case of Deanna Van Buren asking us to inspect the way we design “justice”-related structures) and literally (as in the presentation on soil and food health from Anne Biklé and David Montgomery). Bioneers leaders brought new depth to enduring conversations about Indigenous wisdom, healing, agriculture, and art.

Following are some of our key takeaways from today.


LESSONS, IN THEIR OWN WORDS:

  • “When people understand that real solutions do exist it leverages the potential for change.” -Kenny Ausubel & Nina Simons; Co-Founders | Bioneers
  • “There are some basic things that we need to create for healing. We have to create environments that are deeply embedded and connected to nature — that can moderate our fight, flight, and freeze responses. Spaces for refuge, that we can cool off in and leave. Spaces where we can break bread, embedding objects of comfort, light, sound, texture, and materials that are good for our senses. Integrating art into our space so that people can see themselves. These are the kinds of spaces for justice that we can begin to make.” -Deanna Van Buren; Executive Director | Designing Justice + Designing Spaces
  • “A message to the western world: I would like to tell them not to continue consuming gasoline and plastics that are not good for our health and the environment. I would like modern people to know where their oil comes from. It comes from the Amazon so they can have a good life in the city. It pollutes our water, our animals, and our land.” Nemonte Nenquimo; Co-Founder | Ceibo Alliance and Amazon Frontlines 
  • “I firmly believe that farming practices can deliver health. We need to lay down the weapons, back off of the toxins, and support biological bazaars. And that’s how we’re going to get to this. That is how we’re going to turn this trend around. When soil health gets better, crops and animals get better. Those become the animals and plant foods in the human diet, and it’s immensely helpful to us.” -Anne Biklé; Biologist, Avid Gardener and Author
  • ​​”When we look at climate justice, we have to look at the intersections of our relationships not just with each other but with the land. We have to look at the root causes of the systems that have brought us to this place. The beauty we are witnessing in this crisis is the power of community and the power of Indigenous Peoples.” -Eriel Deranger; Co-Founder and Executive Director | Indigenous Climate Action

CAMPAIGNS TO FOLLOW AND SUPPORT

  • Join Designing Justice + Designing Spaces in unbuilding racism by investing more thoughtfully, igniting radical imagination, and closing jails. (Mentioned in Deanna Van Buren’s keynote address: Achieving Equity in the Built Environment.)
  • Sign this letter from Indigenous Peoples to Ecuador’s Constitutional Court to support their right to make decisions about what happens to their home in the Amazon. (Mentioned by Nemonte Nenquimo in her keynote address: Indigenous Guardianship is Key to Halt the Climate Crisis.)
  • Read more about how to bring our planet’s soils back to life in Growing a Revolution by David Montgomery. (Mentioned in his keynote presentation with Anne Biklé: You Are What Your Food Ate.)
  • Tell UBS and JPMorgan Chase to exit Amazon oil and gas with Amazon Watch. (Mentioned by Leila Salazar-Lopez in the panel Averting a Hot, Toxic Endgame: Strategizing & Mobilizing for Crime Justice.)
  • Attend an Embodied Leadership for Funders & Donors course in January, an 8-week introductory embodied leadership program for leaders in the funding world who are committed to redistributing wealth. (Mentioned by Staci Haines in the panel Embodied Healing Approaches to Personal, Generational, and Socio-Political Trauma.)
  • Connect with women interested in climate action worldwide by joining the WECAN Network. (Mentioned by Osprey Orielle Lake in the panel Averting a Hot, Toxic Endgame: Strategizing & Mobilizing for Crime Justice.)

INVEST IN CHANGE

By supporting Bioneers, you’re supporting an entire community of diverse leadership who are realizing breakthrough solutions. Every gift – large and small – really counts. Monthly giving and multi-year gifts assure our long-term impact. Future generations are counting on us.

GIVE NOW.

Beaver Believer: How Massive Rodents Could Restore Landscapes and Ecosystems At Scale

I first heard about the book Eager: The Surprising Secret Life of Beavers and Why They Matter in a conversation with Brock Dolman, the co-director of the WATER Institute at the Occidental Arts and Ecology Center. Brock was telling me, in his inimitable way, about OAEC’s Bring Back the Beaver campaign, a growing endeavor to “re-beaver” California. I considered myself fairly well informed on many environmental and conservation issues but, in all honesty, I had never really thought of beavers as a species that needed our attention as compared to the vast list of threatened and endangered species upon whose collective necks humanity has pressed its foot. Beavers had come up while we’d been talking about ecological restoration efforts and Brock told me to “Go read EAGER.” So I did – and I joined the ranks of the “beaver believers” in short order.  

Written by the journalist Ben Goldfarb, EAGER is a brilliantly researched and tremendously accessible dive into the past, present and potential future of the American Beaver, Castor canadensis. Goldfarb explores the historical extent of beavers in North America and the dramatic transformation of the entire landscape as a result of the truly barbaric fur trade that led to colonization of the interior of the continent and the near extinction of the species. As one of nature’s most tenacious and dynamic engineers, the ecological role that beavers have historically played in North America (and Europe, for that matter) is mind-boggling. Upon reading the volume, I found that my entire contemporary understanding of the continent received a major system upgrade, the result of a crash course in historical ecology. Just a taste: Goldfarb reports that pre-contact North America beaver dams may have impounded an additional 230,000+ square miles of water (think Arizona + Nevada for reference) via an estimated 150-250 million ponds. Read an excerpt of EAGER here.

EAGER manages to simultaneously expose how little we collectively understand about the ecological history of our landscapes while highlighting truly inspirational people and leading-edge projects that are working to partner with our rodent colleagues, including Dolman and the Bring Back the Beaver campaign as well as dozens of other efforts around the country. I spoke with Ben Goldfarb prior to the 2021 Bioneers Conference, where he participated in a session on the topic of Biophilic Infrastructure.

[This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length]


TEO: How did you find yourself writing a book about beavers?

BEN: I always had kind of an affinity for them. I grew up in New York and spent a lot of time in the Catskills and Adirondacks, which are some of the more beavery places on the East Coast, and saw them while hiking, fishing and camping. But I think my conversion to the cult of beaver belief occurred in 2014. I was living in Seattle as an environmental journalist, and I got a flyer to attend a “beaver workshop.” It sounded like it might be a story, so I went to the workshop.

It was a profound, quasi-religious conversion experience where one person after another – hydrologists and ecologists and fish biologists and fluvial geomorphologists – got up and told their story about why beavers are so crucial for conservation and carbon sequestration, for storing water in the face of droughts and creating firebreaks on the landscape. I started to realize that this rodent that I’d been around all of my life was not just a huge critter, it was actually one of the primary movers and shakers in North American ecosystems. It was really that workshop and some of the stories that spun out of that that really got me thinking about beavers as a profound environmental force.

TEO: What is the difference between the beaver population in North America today and pre-contact, before the fur trade really started up? And do we know what the result has been on the landscape?

BEN: What I attempt to do in the book is to figure out what North America looked like with its full complement of several hundred million beavers. It’s really hard to know, but there’s no question that this was once a much bluer, wetter, greener, lusher place than it is today. It’s amazing to read trappers’ accounts of crossing Southeast Wyoming, which today is basically desert, and finding these largely beaver-created and maintained marshes, full of waterfowl. 

One of the hard things to communicate is that beavers are not an endangered species. We’ve got maybe 10 to 15 million of them in North America, so they’re actually abundant. But they’re just a tiny fraction of their historic abundance, obviously. We’ve got them in every state, but we don’t have them in every watershed or even close to it, where they historically existed.

We have got a lot of laws that are geared toward recovering endangered species, but we don’t really have any laws that are geared toward bringing a common species back to its historical ubiquity, and that’s really where we need to get with beavers. We’ll never have 400 million beavers again, but there’s certainly a lot of room for them today that they’re currently not able to take advantage of because they’re trapped out every time a conflict occurs. 

TEO: Beavers are seen by some as a pathway towards restoring components of the ecological functions of North American landscapes. One of the complexities of ecological restoration is answering the question, “What (or When) are you restoring to?” Climate change obviously makes that even more daunting. Do you have a sense of the restoration potential for beavers and what the ecological implications of “re-beavering” could be?

BEN: It’s a great question. Certainly there’s a technical answer to that, which is that there are all these beaver GIS modeling tools where you can go to your chosen watershed and say there are X-kilometers of available beaver habitat here, or 36% of the watershed is suitable for beavers. However, there are a couple bigger challenges in beaver restoration. 

The first is that when we wiped out hundreds of millions of beavers, we also changed the landscape and the waterscape in ways that made it harder for beavers to return to those places. When you eliminate a beaver, you lose all those beaver-built speed bumps, those dams that are pushing water out onto the flood plain and slowing down flows. There’s nothing checking water velocity. You often get erosion and fission and the stream just erodes to bedrock, and you end up with a firehose-like stream channel that’s a very hard place for a beaver to build a dam. We actually lost a lot of the potential beaver carrying capacity as a result of trapping. 

That’s where tools like beaver dam analogues come in, building these little starter beaver dams that the genuine rodents can come in and build off of, and use to establish in a given watershed where they might not be able to otherwise. There’s a lot we can do mechanically to encourage beaver reestablishment and increase the restoration potential.

The second really important thing – I write about this in the book a lot, of course – is just reconfiguring our historical imagination or conception of what a healthy riverscape looks like. I think we have this idea that a healthy stream is a free-flowing, fast moving, gravel-bottomed thing that you would see in Field and Stream magazine when in reality so many of our streams were incredibly complex and multi-threaded. In some places they were more like very swampy marshes with dead and dying trees everywhere, and the bottom was mucky and it smelled kind of funky. I don’t think that is most people’s conception of a healthy streamscape, but we know, of course, because of beavers, that was historically more rule than exception in North America, and Europe as well.

Bringing back beavers is a technical challenge, but it’s also an imaginative challenge in that, again, we have to reconfigure our historical understanding of what a healthy stream is. 

TEO: Beyond wanting to return to a more wild and healthy landscape, what are the practical benefits? I assume there are benefits to both biodiversity as well as the ecosystem service side of things. 

Ben Goldfarb

BEN: I think you’re right. There are benefits to other species and then there are benefits to us humans. For other species, just name an organism and it probably benefits from beaver habitat, especially in the American West where water is life. Wetlands cover 2% of land area and support 80% of biodiversity. 

Here in Washington where I live, the flagship species that guides most management is salmon, and beavers create these fabulous little juvenile salmon-rearing refuges. That slow-water habitat that beavers build is perfect rearing conditions for young salmon. The salmon are the primary beneficiary, at least from a management standpoint. I think the importance of restoring salmon habitat is what has catalyzed a lot of interest in beavers in the Northwest over the last 15 years or so and beavers are really integral to that. 

Most species of waterfowl do well in the presence of beavers. Actually a lot of songbirds, warblers and flycatchers and the like. Woodpeckers, of course, love the dead trees that beavers create. Other aquatic mammals – mink, muskrat, moose, otter – are all big beaver beneficiaries, and amphibians, of course. The list of organisms that benefit from beavers is just basically a list of organisms that live in North America.

For us humans, the list is just as long. Water storage is a huge one, especially here in Washington state. We’re losing our snowpack and this is true around the West. More and more of our precipitation is falling as rain instead of snow. When it falls as rain, it just runs off the landscape right away. We don’t get that nice time-release delayed trickle deep into the summer. You start to wonder, if only there was this animal that could build thousands and thousands of reservoirs up in the high country to store some of that water. So that’s a huge one. It’s a lot better than the giant reservoirs on the Colorado or Columbia. 

Beavers support carbon sequestration. Blue carbon is a very hot topic right now and beaver dams and habitat are big stores of blue carbon. They’re fantastic pollution control agents. They’re basically creating these little settling ponds where nitrates, phosphorus, heavy metals and pesticides can settle out, and that’s actually guiding a lot of beaver-based restoration in the Chesapeake Bay watershed which is really impacted by agricultural inputs. 

Another really big one that’s become increasingly exciting as some of the peer-reviewed research has come out to support it is the role of beavers during wildfires. They create these fantastic fire refugia and firebreaks on the landscape, these wet areas where the vegetation is really lush and thus doesn’t burn. This is something that beaver folks had always kind of anecdotally observed, but within the last year or two there has been some great research that proves that point. The notion that you could support safeguarding communities from wildfire by restoring beavers in the surrounding wildlands is suddenly something people are talking about, which is tremendously exciting.

Teo Grossman

TEO: I grew up in Northern New Mexico and my good friend had a house near a beaver dam. We skated on it in winter and we fished and swam in the summer. It was totally dreamy and I’ve always been interested in them as a species, but not in any particularly dramatic or intense way. One of the experiences I had after reading your book was that I underwent this “beaver-believer” experience – I talk about beavers a lot now, possibly to my social detriment. Based on your own pathway that you shared earlier, I’m getting the sense that this is not a unique experience. In the book you dive into the cultural side of the beaver restoration world. Do you have a sense as to what it is that blows people’s minds in such a dramatic way?

BEN: That’s a really good question, and something I’ve often wondered about myself. There are lots of people who love wolves and bears and salmon, but I think the beaver community is one of the larger ones and definitely one of the most passionate ones. I think there are a few reasons for that. For one thing, beavers are just a tremendously empathetic species for us as humans. They’re very relatable. They live in these nuclear family units that really resemble human families in a lot of ways, and they’re relentlessly driven to modify their environment to maximize the provision of food and shelter. They’re really the only other organism that comes anywhere close to us in terms of their drive to change their surroundings. That draws a lot of people to them.

Then they’re just so tremendously interesting behaviorally. You can go to a beaver complex at dusk and just watch them perform the most fascinating, complex behaviors. Why are they building a dam over there and not here? Why do they dig a canal between these two ponds? Why do they put the lodge where it is? All animals have some kind of interesting behavior, but beavers are just so much more complex than most. They’re endlessly fun to interpret. 

There’s so much life at a beaver complex. If you’re going to go birdwatching, and you don’t happen to see the birds that you were looking for, then the day might be a bust. But if you went to a beaver pond and didn’t see the beavers, you would still see great blue herons and woodpeckers and toads and moose. There’s just so much life there that when you visit a beaver compound, you’re visiting an entire ecosystem. I think that’s just incredibly fun and exciting. 

The final thing I’ll say is – and I know this is within the ethos of Bioneers – we are so bombarded by negative, depressing environmental news, and it’s understandable. We’re in a dark place as a global civilization. But the beavers are an amazing ray of light in some ways. They are one of history’s great conservation success stories. The species was basically on the brink of extinction, certainly in the continental United States around the turn of the century, and now there are 15 million of them. They are proof that species can recover. 

Beavers are incredible agents of restoration and positive change on the landscape. They accomplish so much and prove that our efforts to restore nature are not futile, and that positive change really is possible. Beavers are a wonderful, hopeful species at a time when a lot of people need hope.


For more, read an excerpt of EAGER here.

No More Stolen Sisters: Stopping the Abuse and Murder of Native Women and Girls

Jessica Alva. Khadija Rose Britton. Hanna Harris. Anthonette Christine Cayedito. If you haven’t heard of these women, it’s no surprise.

They’re four of the untold number of Indigenous women and girls who have been murdered, kidnapped or gone mysteriously missing. A significant number of victims are from communities that are subjected to the harmful presence of fossil fuel and mining companies. The extractive industry is ravaging Native nations where oil and blood have long run together.

Add to this a dysfunctional police and legal hierarchy that leaves Indigenous women and their families with little support during the first crucial hours when they go missing, and little recourse to prosecute predators for their crimes.

In this program, powerful Native women leaders reveal the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, and describe how they are taking action and building growing movements, including with non-Native allies. Morning Star Gali, Ozawa Bineshi Albert, Simone Senogles, Kandi White, and Casey Camp Horinek.

These stories are shocking, harrowing and heartbreaking. But then again, when your heart breaks, the cracks are where the light shines through.

This is an episode of the Bioneers: Revolution from the Heart of Nature series. Visit the radio and podcast homepage to find out how to hear the program on your local station and how to subscribe to the podcast.

Subscribe to the Bioneers: Revolution from The Heart of Nature podcast


Transcript

NEIL HARVEY, HOST: In this program, powerful Native women leaders first reveal the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women – and then describe how they are taking action and building growing movements, including with non-Native allies…

Morning Star Gali, Ozawa Bineshi Albert, Simone Senogles, Kandi White, and Casey Camp Horinek.  

This is “No More Stolen Sisters: Stopping the Abuse and Murder of Native Women and Girls.” I’m Neil Harvey, I’ll be your host. Welcome to the Bioneers: Revolution from the Heart of Nature.

Jessica Alva Khadija Rose Britton. Hanna Harris. Anthonette Christine Cayedito. 

If you haven’t heard of these women, it’s no surprise. They’re four of the untold number of Indigenous women and girls who have been murdered, kidnapped or gone mysteriously missing. 

A significant number of victims are from communities that are subjected to the harmful presence of fossil fuel and mining companies. The extractive industry is ravaging Native nations where oil and blood have long run together. Oil workers, mostly men, live in housing units commonly called “man camps.” They’re notoriously dangerous places for indigenous women and girls.

Add to this a dysfunctional police and legal hierarchy that leaves Indigenous women and their families with little support during the first crucial hours when they go missing, and little recourse to prosecute predators for their crimes.

As Lisa Brunner, a member of the White Earth Ojibwe Nation, and a longtime victim’s advocate says: “What’s happened through US Federal law and policy is they created lands of impunity where this is like a playground for serial rapists, batterers and killers and our children aren’t protected at all.”

While some news outlets report on these tragedies, each headline eventually fades and the stories have gone mostly unheard.  [Montage of news clips]

These stories are shocking, harrowing and heartbreaking. But then again,  when your heart breaks, the cracks are where the light shines through.

Morning Star Gali is a member of the Pit River Indian Tribe of California. She’s a lifelong indigenous rights activist and born into a family who has fought for the rights of Native peoples in California and beyond. 

As part of her organizing work addressing the ongoing missing and murdered Indigenous women crisis, she provides direct support to victims’ families.

Morning Star Gali: We held a prayer gathering and a press conference outside of San Francisco City Hall, and we held it for a sister of mine that was murdered six months ago. And her death has been ruled as a suicide. And we are pushing within the DA’s office, within the city officials to conduct a full investigation. 

We had for three days, while she was on life support, and had people coming in to pray and offer those songs and offer those ceremonies, and it was made very clear, it was very evident that she was native, and yet on her death certificate her race was still listed as unidentifiable.  

And in her death, it was her partner, there was a history of domestic violence. He had given a fake name. He was not on the lease, and he was allowed to stay in her apartment, clean up the crime scene, called it into the ambulance as a suicide, and that’s what the San Francisco Police Department went by, and so they failed in every way possible.  

There’s been a number of deaths. We are very much still grieving. We are very much in disbelief that this is the work that we are doing, and yet it’s our sisters that are being directly impacted. 

And so we spend a lot of our time just going to meet with families, and listening to them, and sitting with them in support and prayer, just letting them know that we are doing whatever we can just as community members, as people that are also affected by this, to help to hold them in that love and in that support, and helping to get the word out about their family members.

Ozawa Bineshi Albert: Across the nation, many police forces do not take serious what is happening to indigenous women. Disappearances, murders, are often dismissed and they’re not prioritized. 

Host: Ozawa Bineshi Albert is an Oklahoma-based Native Rights and Environmental Justice advocate. A leader from the Yuchi and Anishinabe Nations, she works on global collaborations to strengthen grassroots feminist movements. Up close and personal, she witnesses how police departments and courts disappear these women just as surely as the perpetrators who kill them.

Ozawa Bineshi Albert: There was a case where they found a woman tied and bound in a ditch with no shoes, but they have deemed it no foul play. Right? So, I lost an auntie a couple years ago a block and a half from her house, killed on the train tracks. And the police have deemed it an accidental death of an alcoholic person, right? That she would make a decision to choose to sit on a train track and drink is what they’re proposing. Her house, warm, was a block and a half away. Right? But they’re like, oh no, there was no murder, no foul play.

So there’s also this policy of practice that’s part of that culture of saying women are lesser than, and indigenous women are even lesser than that. We’re not wasting our resources to investigate murders of indigenous women. Which is why the creation of a database has not happened from any criminal justice system, it’s happened from indigenous communities saying we need to create a database because police forces, FBI, they’re not doing it.

Host: The nonprofit Sovereign Bodies Institute is the first organization to document how Indigenous people are impacted by gender and sexual violence, and maintains the most thorough and accurate database on missing and murdered indigenous women in the United States. 

In a single year in 2016, nearly 5,700 Indigenous women were reported missing. Only 2% of those cases even made it to the records of the U.S. Department of Justice, according to a study by the Urban Indian Health Institute

Altogether, Indigenous women experience 10 times higher rates of violence, murder, sex trafficking, and abuse than women of other ethnicities. And statistically, a great number of these crimes are happening in communities where oil and mining workers are housed in so called man camps.

Kandi White with the Indigenous Environmental Network, lives in Montana and is a member of the Three Affiliated Tribes, Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara.

Living in her ancestral homeland, Kandi has witnessed firsthand how blood and oil mix with misogyny and racism, and there’s little if any protection from the law. 

Kandi White: All these thousands of men came from all over the world and set up like little shantytowns, really. Some of them were RV trailers, some of them were just cars people were living in. They would work long hours roughnecking, they call it. And then when they had down time, they weren’t with their families. So they would either go to the bars, they would start using or abusing drugs. 

All of that led to our community having a 168% increase in the violence against women. We started seeing women being raped, we started seeing women as young as 13, maybe even 12, selling themselves. They would go into man camps willingly, and then they would get raped and there would be nowhere to turn to for them. There was just story after story after story of sex trafficking. people tried to kidnap our children and put them into the sex trade. 

Fracking fractured our communities, it divided us. It’s not the same. Whenever I go home, it’s like all these strangers are everywhere, and there’s a bunch of them unemployed now, because the price of oil went down and so they’re waiting for the oil boom to go again. And people that have money either are fighting with those that don’t have it, or they left because they could afford to leave. And a lot of broken families were left behind. And so women are left trying to pick up the pieces. 

Host: Another serious obstacle for women and families seeking justice is that tribal courts are highly constrained in their ability to prosecute crimes committed by non-Tribal citizens on their lands because of complex jurisdictional restrictions that disempower tribal governance and sovereignty. Again, Ozawa Bineshi Albert… 

Ozawa Bineshi Albert: This is a policy that is applied to Indian people, but is a policy of the nation of American citizens. It’s going to take a political will larger than what Indian people can hold their own. We have other really good policies, but have failed indigenous nations. Right? So, the Violence Against Women Act. The last time it was reauthorized was the very first time they included language for tribal nations to be able to prosecute someone for domestic violence, which was a huge gain for Indigenous Peoples, but 239 indigenous nations of Alaska were excluded from being able to have that same power to prosecute someone non-native in their tribal lands. 

Host: In 2013, when Congress reauthorized the Violence Against Women Act, or VAWA, it restored the authority of tribal courts to prosecute domestic violence crimes. But this hard-won legal authority still doesn’t apply to all Native nations or to all violent crimes, including rape or murder. 

Another catch is the onerous burden of criteria that Indigenous courts and law enforcement bodies are required to meet to try these cases. Many tribes simply don’t have the necessary resources, even with federal grants. Since VAWA was amended, just 24 out of 600 federally recognized tribes have been able to build the infrastructure required to try domestic violence cases. 

As a result, some indigenous women don’t even bother to report the crimes. The ones who do report them often find their cases passed along to the FBI, where they languish.

Casey Camp Horinek is a respected elder and leader of the Ponca Tribe of Oklahoma. As a culture bearer, she knows well the hidden history of Native Peoples. 

Casey Camp Horinek: We had our ways in the past. If there was a kind of man around that was abusive, he was shunned and put away from the people, had to leave the people and live out on his own. The woman was taken in by other women for her healing until she became whole again. We don’t know what happened to the men, because they weren’t allowed to ever be around us again.

Now, when we have the extractive industry in our backyard, and when our sisters in South America and up in Alaska have the industry in their backyard, and we’re right up there at frontlines, we have no recourse for those that are in pain.  In Oklahoma, it is the most imprisoned place in the United States, and a good majority of those are native people or people of color or poor people. And a huge majority of them are native women who are looking for a way to go forward. 

And so our statistics have been muffled and mismanaged, and deliberately ignored since the Doctrine of Discovery, since Andrew Jackson as an Indian killer, since the time when the policy was to kill the women and kill the children because that was the policy against native people. 

Host: When we return, we hear how these powerful Native American organizers are taking action and building growing movements to end the violence against Indigenous women and girls. They say success requires knowing the true history, and engaging the ally-ship of non-Native people.

I’m Neil Harvey. You’re listening to “No More Stolen Sisters” on the Bioneers: Revolution from the Heart of Nature.

The song you just heard is a prayer for missing and murdered Indigenous women, composed by Antone George for the West Shore Canoe Family of the Lummi Nation. You can find a link for the music video and explore more Bioneers radio programs, podcasts and videos online at bioneers.org. For information on the National Bioneers Conference, please visit bioneers.org or call 1-877-BIONEER.

For Indigenous peoples of the Americas, being an unperson – dates back over five centuries to First Contact.

A year after Christopher Columbus claimed possession of the Americas, the Spanish Crown invoked the Doctrine of Discovery. It was a religious and legal edict that sanctioned European monarchies by divine right to seize lands occupied by Indigenous Peoples. The 1493 papal edict characterized Indigenous Peoples as quote, “the lawful spoil and prey of their civilized conquerors” unquote.  

From the very beginning, the colonizers branded Indigenous Peoples as sub-human and unworthy of rights.

In 1792, then U.S. Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson declared that the Doctrine of Discovery would extend from Europe to the U.S. In 1823, the U.S. Supreme Court adopted it into U.S. law by unanimous vote. 

Casey Camp Horinek: The Catholic Church decided that if they came onto any of the territories where those of us were in total touch with Wakonda and Mother Earth did not embrace Christianity, that they had the right to come into our territory that we were blessed to caretake, and take what they chose to take by just planting their little flag on there and saying ‘this is ours because you guys are savages’. That began the destruction of our peoples and our women, in particular, and that papal bull edict has yet to be rescinded and that was the beginning of what was going on here that allowed people like Columbus, that allowed the extractive industry. 

Simone Senogles: When there are societies of strong Indigenous Peoples and there are people who are colonizing and they want to disrupt and destroy those societies, they understand that one of the first things they do is attack our women.

Host: Simone Senogles, a member of the Red Lake Nation of Ojibwe, works on food sovereignty issues with the nonprofit Indigenous Environmental Network.

Simone Senogles: And so that women who typically held positions of power, of influence, of decision-making, over all spheres of indigenous life – our education, the raising of our children, our governance, our food systems, our politics, our spirituality, our families, all of those things – those women, they were disempowered, and our society suffered. And so that connection between attacks on indigenous women and the theft of our land is a very complex and yet sometimes very simple relationship. 

Host: According to Tejana historian Antonia Castañeda, within diverse indigenous cultures, quote – “Women’s power and authority were integral to, and derived from, the tribe’s core religious and spiritual beliefs, values, and traditions, which generally accorded women and men equivalent value, power, and range of practices.” Ozawa Bineshi Albert …

Ozawa Bineshi Albert: For indigenous people, matriarchal is not that women ruled, it’s not the opposite of patriarchy, but there was a balance and leadership that women carried and held—women held property or land, or held the wealth of community. 

And in colonial times, trappers, people who wanted to trade with Indian people, they didn’t want to trade with women. Right? So that shifted a power dynamic here in this country with women.

And then you move forward to when they moved Indian people to reservations in different places, and in Oklahoma where they did allotments, many of those early tribes that came, women were not given allotments. Men were deemed head of households, and if you were a woman who lost your family along the walk or along however they got you or removed you, you had nothing, unless you attached yourself to another family.  

And that kind of history keeps finding new ways and applications. It’s happened with Navajo Nation and the way that women held property with their livestock in the livestock reduction programs. It had an impact on the power that women held.

So when we talk about this, yes, we’re talking about this from a context of how patriarchy and colonialism has a relationship to this epidemic that we’re dealing with now. It is not a new practice, it is not a new policy, even. Because even in this country, during the women’s suffrage movement that didn’t include Indian women being able to vote. We didn’t get a right to vote until much, much later, in our own homeland, not deemed as citizens or entitled to have a voice in our American politic. So that’s our collective history, and not just Indigenous People.

Casey Camp Horinek: Even in those terms, if they told a story in the history book that was factual, which was rare, the Native woman was never even mentioned. And they certainly don’t mention things like, in Columbus’s diary, that 9-year-old Native girls, were the favored ones to be sought after and captured, and given for use. 

And they certainly don’t mention in the history books the stories that my aunties, sisters-in-law, mamas and grandmas told about when they came to the village of the Ponca – I have to stick to the history that I know – how they picked up our kids by the hair, by their braids, and flung them in the back of the wagons. How they separated out the women and the girls to be utilized by the soldiers during the forced removal, while the men were held at gunpoint and felt helpless. 

And they certainly didn’t mention us in the films that I watched when I was a young girl. They would pick anybody that was slightly brown to play us. And if there was a woman in that that was played, she was always very pretty, very scantily dressed, and very sexualized. The history, the herstory, was never one that had any kind of valid strong woman like the women that I knew that survived all of those things that I’m talking to you about.

I worry about you out there. I worry about the heaviness that you’re feeling right now because of these stories. We’re strong women, they’re sitting on each side of me here. They’ll help us to learn, help us to turn that corner, where we regain and re-understand our own portion of balance and how to go about that, and how to empower the men in our lives to honor, respect, and understand the sacredness of woman. 

Simone Senogles: We just recently did an exercise with some of the women in our community where we Googled ourselves, not by name but by Native American women or indigenous women, and the images that came up are just hyper-sexualized, fetishized, as Halloween costumes. And what we did in response to that, after we looked at those images of ourselves on the Internet, we made a collage of our own selves. We printed out pictures of ourselves, of our children, of our families, of our communities, of our lands and our waters, and we reminded ourselves of who we are to find ourselves. And especially our responsibility to Mother Earth, because we’ve said before, what happens to the body happens to Mother Earth. What happens to Mother Earth happens to our body. 

And so we’re reclaiming that. And that is a lot of power for us as indigenous women to remember what our roles and responsibilities are as far as taking care of Mother Earth. There’s a lot of strength in that.

And so the more that we understand our own ways of understanding even concepts around ownership, our relationship to the land, our relationship to ourselves, we are strengthened.

Host: In 2012, the hashtag #MMIW campaign took off as part of the movement to educate the general public about Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women. To offer people ideas for how to get involved, the nonprofit Sovereign Bodies Institute created a comprehensive toolkit for organizers. 

Ozawa Bineshi Albert: What is then the collective responsibility to this? We’re telling you a story about what’s happening, we’re doing our end of the work. And now we’re asking you: What are you going to be able to do to bring this issue to the forefront?

When VAWA comes up for reauthorization as it does from time to time, don’t throw us under the bus. When other gains need to be made, that you stand your ground and say, we’re not going without the indigenous women of Alaska. 

Bring this up with your police departments. We need citizens that look like you to say, Hey, there’s this crazy thing happening to indigenous women. What are you doing as the sheriff, as the police chief, as the mayor, as a city council? And in particular states where there’s high concentrations of Native people, call and ask your state legislatures, What are you doing about this epidemic? 

Kandi White: We have always traditionally and historically been the people that have held the homes together. We owned the homes, we owned the earth lodges, traditionally, and carried that role, which was a kind of more of a silent role. But now we’ve seen Women standing up and rising up and saying no more, we’re not going to be the silent role, we have to have a voice, we have to have our own grassroots organizations and take a stand and maybe help pick up our men that lost their warrior status when the industries came, and when colonization came. Because we don’t have a choice. We were forced into a role to pick up the pieces and to say we’re not going to allow this to happen anymore to our bodies, to our Earth, to our own children. We’re going to stand and rise up.

OTHER RESOURCES

The Coalition to Stop Violence Against Native Women

Article from The Intercept: “A New Film Examines Sexual Violence as a Feature of the Bakken Oil Boom”

Restoring Justice for Indigenous Peoples: MMIW Initiative

Decolonizing Regenerative Agriculture: An Indigenous Perspective

A-dae Romero-Briones (Cochiti/Kiowa) is the Director of Programs: Agriculture and Food Systems for the First Nations Development Institute. First Nations provides grants and technical assistance to strengthen native communities and economies. A-dae is a compelling voice against the injustices of colonization inflicted on Native People and for the acknowledgment of Indigenous People’s land stewardship as a basis for regenerative agriculture. A-dae was interviewed by Arty Mangan, Director of the Bioneers Restorative Food Systems Program.


ARTY: What are the differences between an indigenous perspective of agriculture and a non-indigenous perspective?

A-DAE: That’s a loaded question because the whole idea of agriculture puts a contemporary spin on the conversation. Agriculture is usually the point in our American historical narrative where Indigenous People are separated from the rest of civilization. Agriculture is usually the delineating line where people talk about civilization and non-civilization or hunter-gatherers and yeoman farmers. Whenever I get questions about agriculture, I always get a little squirmy because I realize most people are coming from the perspective of the American historical narrative where Indigenous People are excluded.

There are stark differences between agricultural systems in indigenous communities and agricultural systems in contemporary communities. The first being the idea of collective resources. In an indigenous community, there are some things that just cannot be commodified – land, water, air, animals, even the health of the people, all of which are considered collective resources. Collective resources require collective and community management. Contemporary agriculture doesn’t have the same base. In contemporary agriculture, there are individualized, commodified resources like land, you can buy water, at one point in our history you could even buy somebody’s body and health. 

With individualized, commodified resources, the whole dynamic of society changes. It requires different skill sets when you’re managing collective resources versus individualized land plots. There are a lot more specialized skills in the individual land plot scenario. In collective resources management, a variety of skills are needed because you’re not only dealing with people, but you’re also dealing with relationships and how to balance those relationships. 

The biggest difference in contemporary agriculture versus indigenous agriculture is the idea of money. In an indigenous community if you had a person who hunted, if you had a person who could plant a seed, if you had a person who knew how to gather, then you had access to food. In an American or contemporary agricultural system, the way to access those things is through money or some form of money. Sometimes it’s public benefit; sometimes it’s through actual cash economy transactions. There are a lot of transactions that limit the access that a person has to food.

It’s important to keep in mind that food is an indicator of the health of a society. In an indigenous community, food shortages mean something within that society is awry and has to be fixed. But because we have the extra barrier of food access through money, food no longer is that indicator. You have to replace that societal indicator with something else. When that happens, people are disconnected from society and from the collective resources that go into making food. 

A-dae-Romero-Briones

ARTY: What does it mean to decolonize agriculture and how does that pertain to regenerative agriculture?

A-DAE: Agriculture, as we’re told in the American narrative, is the delineating line between civilization and the wild Indians. It was the system that separated and allowed for a lot of injustice that occurred with land theft, slavery and indentured servitude. The conversation about decolonizing agriculture is about examining the agricultural system and concepts that allow for those injustices to happen. When we talk about decolonizing regenerative agriculture, we are looking at that initial definition. I’m asking people to stop and say, “Look at how we think about agriculture in America and think about whether it included Indigenous People.” The answer is it doesn’t. It doesn’t include indigenous people because only colonizers and settlers are considered farmers in America. That means that when people are talking about correcting agriculture to a time when it was better, we’re going back to that definition of when settlers came to America and started agriculture. Before that, people weren’t considered agriculturalists. Before that, they were considered hunters and gatherers, which has its own connotations.  

To decolonize regenerative agriculture, we have to go back and think about the times before European settlement and contact to the times when there was more of a balance in the ecological environments that we’re trying to correct now.

ARTY: How would you define regenerative agriculture?

A-DAE: At the heart of the concept regeneration is wanting to renew and correct some of the missteps that have taken us to the point of environmental damage and degradation. We want to create systems that are rebirthing a healthy environment. In order to do that, we need to include Indigenous People. So, my definition of regenerative agriculture is one that includes a true history of land and the environment and people’s health that starts prior to contact.

ARTY: In your writings and talks, you seem to challenge the idea of mimicking nature, which many people in the regenerative agriculture movement use as a guiding principle. Isn’t nature our best teacher?

A-DAE: Yes. I think nature is our best teacher. But it’s a fallacy to think that we can imitate a system that has been in existence for hundreds of thousands if not millions of years. These are systems that have been perfected because of relationships with other living beings, plants, animals, the land and everything that surrounds it; those relationships take time. We are a very young society and nation. Scientific inquiry and the scientific field is fairly young compared to the natural systems that we’re trying to mimic. 

We can probably shoot for mimicking nature, but the idea that we could actually achieve it is a fallacy to me. I think one of the most important lessons in indigenous epistemology is that natural systems have unknowns, and that man cannot know everything. We have to have reverence and respect for those unknowns. There are processes in the trees that grow, in the animals that migrate that we just will not know. We should respect in reverence and allow those unknowns to happen. We can observe it knowing that we can probably aid in the health of it, knowing that there is something just beyond our reach, and knowing that there is something greater out there that we must respect.

Coffee Pot Farms, a Native American woman-owned business in Navajo Nation

ARTY: The late Joseph Campbell, professor and author of books on mythology, said that Indigenous Peoples refer to the natural world and all in it as “thou,” as sacred. He said that Western culture views the natural world as an “it” that can be exploited and processed. Can you talk more about reverence versus exploitation?

A-DAE: There is an assumption that man has command of everything around us, or we are on a higher plane than the living things around us. To me, again, that’s a fallacy. We are probably the youngest species on our planet and in our environments; the trees and the plants and the animals are much older. Understanding our place in the universe requires us to actually look at those time frames. When you look at the whole of time, it becomes overwhelming. Indigenous People have created the idea of the unknown and the sacred and reverence for where we are as the youngest entity in this place. There is so much that we have to learn. Rather than being burdened with that task, the idea that we respect the unknown helps people deal with it.

It leaves room at the table for processes to happen because if we knew everything and if we could mimic nature, there’s no imagination that’s needed, there’s no room for surprises, and there’s no room for some of the beauty that happens by happenstance. Some of the greatest joys come from the understanding of reverence and the sacred.

This idea of exploitation puts us in the position that we have to manage everything with the right to commodify things that should never be commodified. We can’t sell everything. I think we learn that through our relationships with other humans that not everything is meant to be sold.

ARTY: I heard you tell the story of assisting your grandfather filling out an organic certification application and to the question of what inputs do you use, he said “prayers, love, river water.” 

You serve on the National Organic Standard board. Have you been able to provide some indigenous perspective to that process?

A-DAE: One of the reasons I entered into the organic community was because organic uses less chemicals to create a food system, and the use of those things by industrial agriculture really worried me. When I see basket-weavers who are weaving from roots that have been affected by pesticides, I worry about them. Why would I want to put that in my body? Indigenous people, in general, don’t use pesticides. We have really strong seeds. So, this idea that Indigenous People would be welcomed in the organic community was one that I was really hopeful for.

What I found is there are not a lot of non-white people in the organic community. When you’re trying to move an entire community of white people and as a non-white person, it is really, really hard and tiring. So, I sit on the board and it helps that I’m a brown face in a very white community. In that sense, I think there is some awareness that there needs to be more inclusion of non-white people in the organic community. I have tried to work on group certification for tribal communities, but again these are systems that are massive, and it takes way more than me to make really lasting change. 

My term is coming to an end, and I hope they replace me with another indigenous person, but that’s a political process, which is pretty crazy presently.

Sicangu Food Sovereignty Initiative addresses food insecurity and diet related illness on the Rosebud Reservation

ARTY: When Europeans came to North America they erected fences. How did fences disrupt indigenous food sheds in New Mexico and other places?

A-DAE: I think we’re still dealing with the issue of fences today. When I was a little girl in second grade, we were asked to draw a picture of our house. My teacher pulled my paper because I had all the houses together like a pueblo, which I grew up in. She said, “No, what I mean is you need a pitched roof and a picket fence in front of the house. The idea of the picket fence fascinated me. I was like: “What is this? What is the purpose of this fence?” Because in the Pueblo we don’t have fences. Rez dogs just wander in the community and people feed them. In our fields, there are no fences.

In the 1930s and again in the ‘60s, The National Resource Conservation Service came in and put in elk and deer-proof fences. They said you need to put fences around your fields so you can keep out all the animals that are going to eat your crops. My grandpa’s response was: “We’re farmers. When we plant corn, we don’t plant just for us, we plant for the environment around us too. If the deer are coming, it’s because they’re hungry. So, that means, I need to plant more.” We’re adjusting to our environment rather than trying to keep everything out. So, this idea of a fence is just antithetical to the way we view the world. 

Recently the Pueblo of Jemez had a lawsuit against the forest service. The Caldera in the Jemez Mountains in New Mexico is surrounded by a fence; it’s in a National Preserve. The Pueblo of Jemez said that the Caldera has always been sacred to the Jemez people, and they have always had continuous access. But the federal agency said, “There’s a fence there, and it says no trespassing. Are you telling us that the Jemez people have been going over this fence?” And the Jemez governor’s response was, “I thought that fence was to keep the elk in not to keep the Indians out.” 

ARTY: Relationships in indigenous ways are central. For example, you talked about growing corn for the deer. How does indigenous farming develop relationships and nurture life?

A-DAE: One of the things that comes to mind is food safety. I studied food safety law when I got my LLM [Master of Laws Degree]. I thought it was fascinating, the idea that you pretty much kill everything so that nothing living goes inside your body as a preventative to making you sick. I just didn’t understand the concept of making the food supply so clean to prevent sickness.

It’s almost like the idea of wilderness being healthy if nobody’s in it. To me it’s weird because in indigenous epistemologies people are a part of the environment, and it’s the same with the microbiome. Indigenous communities embrace the environments that we’re in. We have to embrace the bacteria and the microbiome that make our community because that’s the only way our bodies adjust to our environment. That’s the only way we’re going to ensure that we are within the cycle of whatever natural systems we’re a part of. We don’t kill the natural systems in order to ensure that we survive, which is what food safety does. 

When we farm, we’re thinking about natural cycles, and how do we become more embedded into those natural systems. We take the cues from the natural systems, whether that be deer, whether that be insects, whether it be water shortages.  In order to be successful farmers, we have to learn how to adjust to those environmental changes from the beings in that natural environment.

But it is very much the opposite of what agricultural systems are today, which tries to kill everything except the plant that you want to grow. That is so hard for me to understand. 

ARTY: I’ve always felt like one of the big problems with agriculture is that it needs more biology, it needs more life, not less. And as you describe, the thrust is to kill off the pests, kill off the weeds, destroy and kill and create the monocrop. But the real remedy is more diverse above-and-below ground living systems.

A-DAE: Absolutely. That’s exactly how I see indigenous food systems. The indigenous universal connection is the idea that you absolutely need to be part of the natural cycles around you, whether they’re negative or positive. You need to adjust to them. You’re part of that system. You need to become embraced in that system in order to create not only a healthy food system, but also healthy people, a healthy environment, and a happy mental state. I don’t understand the other side. I’ve tried. I’ve studied it to death, and I’m still learning.

ARTY: You wrote: “Indigenous People can look at a landscape and tell if the soil is healthy. They know how to see the health of the soil without needing a microscope.” Allan Savory, the founder of holistic livestock management, was criticized by scientists because initially he didn’t use scientific metrics to measure his success, but instead he used the overall improved health and biodiversity of the landscape. Is regenerative agriculture a place where traditional indigenous knowledge and science can complement each other?

A-DAE: One of the major components I hear consistently in regenerative agriculture is this idea of carbon sequestration. The language of science is very minute, talking about atoms and nutrients and carbon. These are things we can’t see unless you have a microscope and unless you know what a carbon atom looks like. It leaves the common farmer and the common Indigenous person outside of understanding, and that’s a problem. We need people to understand why it’s important to have healthy soil and why it’s important that you have a healthy root system that sequesters water. We need people to understand that. But counting carbon and counting molecules is not going to help people understand.

In regenerative agriculture, the science needs to follow healthy systems. Indigenous people are stewarding healthy systems. Rather than trying to disprove or prove the functionality of these systems, science needs to take their cues and use scientific methods to explain the importance and the positives of these stewarded lands. There are many reports that say carbon sequestration is happening in indigenous stewarded lands. In places like the Amazon or here in California where the Mono people are still doing traditional burns, or places along the rivers where Indigenous People are stewarding the salmon and the salmon burial grounds, those are some of the healthiest soils. Also, places that have been stewarded and kept by California indigenous basket-weavers, those are the places where carbon is probably its most healthy. Science rather than trying to count carbon, should work to explain to the Western scientific world why these stewarded places are so important and why these practices should be continued. 

In historical terms, science has been used to dispossess a lot of Indigenous Peoples of land. So, this idea that science is objective is kind of a fallacy to me because I think science is very much subject to political whims more than anything else. I could go off on politics and science, but I’m just going to end there.

ARTY: In the webinar you hosted as part of a First Nations Development Institute series on land stewardship, you said that agroecology is a non-indigenous term; it’s an interpretation of an indigenous way of farming, but not an interpretation by Indigenous People. How do Native voices become authentically included in the regenerative agriculture conversation?

A-DAE: Invite them to the table. When I say agroecology is an interpretation, it’s because agroecology practices are practices without the people. Many of these other disciplines take practices of Indigenous People, but don’t include the people or don’t include their stories.

For instance, my grandpa would take me to the field and tell a story about the last time he saw conditions like this and what his grandparents did. Those stories are just as important as the practices or the l hoe that I pick up. Those stories are the guideposts that need to be laid out before we even start digging into the soil. Indigenous People need room to tell those stories.

The same goes for traditional ecological knowledge. Really, what does that mean? It’s a very broad term. Cochiti people do things differently than Pomo people. Pomo people do different things than Navajo people. The Navajo people do different things than Kiowa people. It’s much more nuanced than these terms that are in vogue or not in vogue depending on the time and audience.

Each of these peoples have their own practices and stories that go along with these practices. They need that whole spectrum, the full body, the full room and the time to tell those stories along with their practices, which currently is hard to find in any of these multiple disciplines, whether it be agroecology, permaculture, or traditional ecological knowledge. 

ARTY: What needs to happen to make the regenerative agriculture community more inclusive?

A-DAE: We need to challenge, as a community, the historical narrative of this country that begins with this idea that the farmer is the true American, and that agriculture is really how our continent was started. It started long before that event happened in our country, and regenerative agriculture needs to challenge that narrative that has led us astray thus far.

3 Challenges To Sustainability

The dominant systems in place today — energy, food, agriculture, economy, education etc. — are unsustainable, and so by definition will fail. What are some of the obstacles to designing long-term, truly sustainable systems and how do we overcome them?


“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.”

—Alanis Obomsawin, Abernaki Filmmaker

Bill Mollison, the founder of Permaculture, wonders, “Why does society, with all its skill, intelligence, and resources, keep falling into holes of its own making?”

What is sustainability and what are some of the challenges to becoming sustainable? In 1987, the Brundtland Commission of the United Nations defined it this way: “Sustainable development meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.”

That definition is derived from the Great Law of the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois Federation that requires decision making to take into consideration the impact seven generations into the future. How will our actions today affect the great-grandchildren of our great-grandchildren 200 hundred years from now?

Janine Benyus, the naturalist and author who developed the concept of biomimicry — the idea that humans should emulate nature’s genius in their designs — says it in this way: “Life creates conditions conducive to life.”

Unfortunately, too many people in the modern industrial world still think that the environment is something outside or apart from themselves. The reality is that everything we do is a subset of the environment.

The great Coast Salish warrior and diplomat Chief Seattle, in his eloquent environmental treatise in response to President Franklin Pierce’s offer to buy Salish land and expand white settlement, said, “Whatever befalls the Earth befalls the sons of Earth. If men spit upon the ground they spit upon themselves. This we know: The Earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the Earth. This we know: All things are connected.”

Economist Hazel Henderson said, “The paradigm of sustainability, with its notions of limitations and carrying capacities, confronts dominant paradigms of progress, which do not recognize limits to unchecked growth.”

As a result of that kind of thinking, nearly all of the dominant systems in place today are unsustainable: energy, food, agriculture, economy, education, etc. And if they are unsustainable, then by definition, they will fail.

Eco-farmer Joel Salatin, who Michael Pollan writes about in Omnivore’s Dilemma, says, “Every paradigm exceeds its point of efficiency… only now has the industrial paradigm in agriculture come to the end of its workability. What happens is all these things we’re seeing — campylobacter, E-coli, mad cow, listeria, salmonella that weren’t even in the lexicon 30 years ago. [They are proof of] the industrial paradigm exceeding its efficiency.”

Social and economic systems mimic natural systems. Things in nature don’t expand forever. As an old system goes into decline the opportunity, space and resources become available for something new to grow. A tree falls in the forest allowing light to penetrate the canopy. The decaying leaves and limbs decompose creating fertile conditions, more water becomes available, hormones in dormant seeds are stimulated and seedlings emerge from the decay of old structures.

What are some specific challenges to sustainability? There are many artifacts of the old, non-sustainable systems that challenge sustainability. I’m just going to touch on three: rewarding the wrong activity, industrialization of biological systems, and treating nature like a slave.

1. Rewarding the Wrong Activity

It is estimated that governments spend more than $700 billion a year to subsidize environmentally unsound practices in agriculture, water, energy, and transportation.

The present economic system often rewards the most unsustainable practices, and by doing so, prolongs the pathology of the status quo, monopolizes resources, maintains the power structure, and decreases the opportunity for a new system to be designed and built that serves people and the environment in a sustainable and humane way.

One example is the agricultural subsidies for commodity growers that reward the worst farming practices. More than $15 billion annually is given to corn, soy, cotton, and other commodity farmers whose products create extensive toxicity, skew the marketplace, and tie up money that could be supporting sustainable practices.

This system was originally an emergency measure during the great depression to keep farmers on the land. Seventy years later, it is completely entrenched into the political system because subsidy payments buy political loyalty, and with it, funding for politicians who maintain the subsidy program.

The farming practices that are being supported are a disaster from the point of view of sustainability — using genetically engineered seeds, high chemical inputs, farming marginal lands, and forgoing crop rotation so that they can maximize subsidy payments.

The commodity prices, because of subsidy payments, are below real production costs and supply the cheap calorie market for junk food that is driving the obesity and diabetes epidemics, as well as dumping cheap GMO corn into Mexico, pushing farmers off the land and contaminating heirloom corn varieties with GMO genetic pollution. Nitrogen runoff from subsidized Midwestern cornfields leaches into the Mississippi River, creating a dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico the size of Connecticut.

So what’s the answer? First, all government officials should take a Permaculture course so they can develop an understanding of the healthy connection between ecology and economy and to help inform them of what real sustainability is.

If, as Michael Pollan suggests, we all start to look at the Farm Bill as the Food Bill and make our representatives aware of the importance of eliminating subsidies and replacing them with incentives for conservation, permaculture, and organic farming, we can stop supporting the most damaging activities and encourage practices that create economic “conditions conducive to life.”

The Dreaming New Mexico project has created a listing of eco-services that farmers could perform and receive payments for such as: carbon sequestration, water shed restoration, pollinator-friendly habitat, erosion control, and managing invasive species.

2. Industrialization of Biological Systems

Historically, as herds of bison gathered to feed on native grasses in the plains, their manure and urine provided essential nutrients for the grasses as well as beneficial bacteria for the soil food web. The browsing on the tops of grass resulted in die-back of the underground roots, providing organic matter to feed good soil bacteria.

The manure and urine sent out pungent signals to predators such as wolves that the herd was in the vicinity. The predators put pressure on the herd to move to a different area. That movement ensured that the animals did not overgraze, which could have resulted in desertification.

Predator pressure also regulates the amount of animal waste deposited in a particular area. In high concentrations, those nutrients can become toxic. So the predator protects the grass, without which the bison could not survive. The grass feeds the bison that keeps the predator alive — interdependence in a healthy biological system.

Our modern version of animal husbandry is CAFOs: concentrated animal feeding operations. These may be the most industrialized of all agricultural systems; their blind pursuit of yield and efficiency have resulted in increased disease among animals and people, inhumane conditions for the animals, an increase in greenhouse gasses, and antibiotic resistance. Additionally, CAFOs create as much waste as a small city. These are highly concentrated operations, where tens of thousands of cattle are penned living in their own waste, eating an unnatural diet of corn, which acidifies their stomachs and encourages pathogenic E-coli to thrive. These negative outcomes are largely the result of ignoring the dynamics of natural healthy systems.

Grass-fed cows, on the other hand, have higher amounts of omega 3 essential fatty acids, lower amounts of saturated fat, higher quality protein, higher amounts of CLA — a good fat that prevents cancer, higher vitamin E levels, lower methane emissions, are more resistant to deadly E-coli, and, if managed properly, increase the fertility of the pasture.


The Bioneers Restorative Food Systems Program provides knowledge, inspiration, connections, and conceptual frameworks to help individuals, communities and decision makers envision and implement their own sustainable food systems. Learn more about this essential program.


3. Treating Nature Like a Slave

JL Chestnut, the great civil rights lawyer from Alabama, speaking at the Bioneers conference before he died said, “The same mentality that oppresses people pollutes the environment.”

The planet is in worse shape today than it was in the 1970s, when the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act were passed. Those laws were passed under the authority of the commerce laws of the U.S. Constitution, treating nature as property just as at one time slaves were treated as property.

Environment is considered to be a subset of commerce — merely a place to get resources for business. Environmental laws do not protect the rights of nature, but merely slow down the rate of destruction.

The Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund (CELDF) has worked with communities in Pennsylvania, New England, and Virginia to establish the Rights of Nature by drafting and helping pass laws “that change the status of ecosystems from being regarded as property under the law to being recognized as rights-bearing entities.”

That effort led to the CELDF work with the government of Ecuador to write the Rights of Nature into the Ecuadorian constitution in 2009. The language that was codified in the constitution says nature “has the right to exist, persist, maintain and regenerate its vital cycles, structure, functions and its processes in evolution.”

Bren Smith’s Open-Sourced 3D Ocean Farm Model Can Feed a Hungry Planet

Bren Smith is one of the world’s most sustainable, ethical, and productive farmers. His farms have tiny footprints with massive outputs, and they’re open to public exploration and recreation. The crops he grows have the capacity to consume up to five times the amount of carbon that traditional farm plants consume. The key to Smith’s success? Everything he cultivates lives underwater.

Thimble Island Ocean Farm is one of the first “3D” ocean farms on the planet. Smith’s innovative vertical underwater gardening technique has made high yields on minimal acreage a reality, while his attention to biodiversity—he farms shellfish in addition to a whole host of healthy, fast-growing sea vegetables—is restoring ocean ecosystems and creating biofuel.

Believing that Thimble Island could provide a blueprint for a new ocean economy, Smith open-sourced his model. Today, his GreenWave organization helps would-be entrepreneurs start their own ocean farms, providing new employment avenues for those left behind by unsustainable industrial economies.

Watch Bren Smith tell the story of his transformation from deep-sea fisherman to sustainable economy pioneer in this video from Bioneers 2016, and read the transcript that follows.

Bren Smith:

My story is a story of ecological redemption. I was born and raised in Newfoundland, Canada, dropped out of high school when I was 14, and headed out to sea. I fished the Grand Banks and the Georges Banks—tuna, lobster. I headed out to the Bering Sea in the 80s and fished cod and crab.

Now, this was the height of industrialized fishing. We were tearing up entire ecosystems with our trawls, chasing fewer and fewer fish further and further out to sea. And most of the fish I was catching were going to McDonald’s for their fish sandwich.

I was a kid producing some of the lowest, worst, most destructive food on the planet. But God, I loved that job. The sense of humility of being in 30-foot seas; the sense of solidarity being in the belly of a boat with 13 other people doing 20-hour shifts; and the sense of meaning, of helping feed my country. Those were some of the best days of my life. I’ve been on the water for 30 years, and I miss them so, so much.

Then the cod stocks crashed back home in Newfoundland. This was a real wake-up call. Thousands of fishermen thrown out of work, boats beached, canneries emptied. It is amazing that a culture and economy built up over a hundred years can disappear in a matter of weeks in the face of ecological crisis.

That’s when I began to learn that ecological crisis has nothing to do with the environment, it has to do with the economy. There will be no jobs on a dead planet.

So, I started this search for sustainability, and I ended up in the aquaculture farms in Northern Canada, because aquaculture was supposed to be the great answer to over fishing, job creation, and reduction of pressure on fish stocks. Instead, it was more of the same. We were polluting local waters with antibiotics and pesticides. We were growing neither fish nor food. These were Iowa pig farms at sea.

I kept searching, disillusioned, and I ended up in Long Island Sound. I chased a woman down there. They were opening up shell fishing grounds for the first time in 150 years to attract young fishers back into the industry. I remade myself as an oysterman. I did that for a couple years, and then the storms hit— hurricane Irene, hurricane Sandy—barreling through, wiping out 90 percent of my crop. Most of my gear washed out to sea two years in a row. Suddenly I found myself on the front lines of a climate crisis that arrived 100 years earlier than expected. This was supposed to be a slow lobster boil. It’s here and now, as everyone in this room knows.

Facing ecological collapse means I can’t work on the water. The goal in my life is to work on the sea. My goal is to die on my boat one day. That’s going to be a measure of success. But we need to protect and save the oceans for me to die that way.

I picked myself up and started redesigning my farm. I lifted it off the bottom so it was resilient to storm surges, used the entire water column and searching for new species to grow—species that were restorative. After 15 years of experimentation with sustainability, I ended up as the first 3D ocean farmer, growing a mix of seaweeds and shellfish to create good local food, create jobs, and help fight the climate crisis.

Now, let’s look at the farm, because it’s hard to picture what I’m doing under the water.
I had a kid draw this picture, and it’s really simple. It’s just hurricane-proof anchors on the edges of the farm and then a rope eight feet across the surface. From there, we grow our kelp vertically downward. Next to that, we’ve got our scallops and lantern nets, muscles and muscle socks. On the bottom, we have oysters in cages, and then clams down in the mud.


Here’s a picture of our kelp. Beautiful plant. So, kelp grows in post-hurricane season, and it’s one of the fastest-growing plants on Earth. Once we harvest the kelp, the muscles set. We have mini-scallops and then we’ve got our oysters, which are thimble island salts. It’s like a splash of ocean when you eat it.

Here’s the picture of the farm from the surface. I run eco tours—$500 to come out. It’s the biggest rip-off in the tourist industry, because there’s nothing to see. But that’s such a good thing, right? It has a low aesthetic impact. Our oceans are these beautiful pristine places and we want to keep them that way.

Our farms have small footprints. My farm used to be 100 acres. It’s down to 20 acres, and I’m growing way more food than before because we’re vertical.

Anybody can boat, swim and fish on our farms. They’re community spaces where you can dive through our kelp forests. We don’t own the property. All we own is the right to grow shellfish and seaweeds. We own a process not a property. We’re going to farm to protect our commons rather than privatize it like agriculture did.

Our goal was to take on three major challenges.

One was develop a delicious new seafood plate in this era of overfishing and food insecurity. We reject agriculture’s obsession with monoculture. We grow for polyculture. Sea bass, two kinds of seaweeds, four kinds of shellfish, and we harvest salt as well.

But we’ve barely broken the surface. There are 10,000 edible plants in the ocean, and a couple hundred shellfish. I mean, imagine being a chef at this time and finding out there are arugulas, tomatoes, and rices that you’ve never cooked with before, tasted or seen. This is an exciting time to develop a culinary cuisine. What we’re going to do is re-imagine a seafood plate. We’ll move bivalves and sea greens to the center, and wild fish to the edges.

Our kelp is the “gateway drug” to de-sushify sea greens. We’re making kelp the new kale by doing barbecue kelp noodles with parsnips and bread crumbs. These are vegetables. This isn’t seafood. We’re doing sea green butters and umami bomb bullion cubes. Our new ocean dinner, it’s going to be fun, it’s going to be creative, and it’s going to be delicious. It’s time to eat like fish, because fish don’t make omega 3’s and all these things we need—they eat them. By eating like fish, we get the benefits while reducing pressure on fish stocks.

This isn’t some little boutique, like bearded Brooklyn bee farm. We can grow huge amounts of crops in small areas—10 to 30 tons of seaweed, 250,000 shellfish per acre. If you were to take a network of our farms totaling the size of Washington state, you could feed the world. And this is zero-input food. It requires no freshwater, no fertilizer, no feed, no land, making it hands-down the most sustainable form of food production on the planet. In the era of climate change, as water prices and feed/fertilizer prices go up, our food is going to be the most affordable food on the planet to grow, and the most affordable food on the planet to eat. We are going to be eating sea greens.

Climate change is going to force us to eat zero-input foods. Question is: Is it going to be delicious, or is it going to be like being force-fed cod liver oil? That’s where the chefs come in. If chefs can’t make what we can grow delicious, they should quit their jobs. Developing this climate cuisine is what they’re here on Earth to do.

The second goal of the farm is to transform fishers into restorative ocean farmers. Mother Nature created these two technologies millions of years ago, designing them to mitigate our harm: shellfish and seaweeds. Oysters are these incredible agents of sustainability that filter out 50 gallons of water a day, pulling nitrogen out of our water column, which is the root cause of dead zones spreading through the globe. Our kelp soaks up five times more carbon than land-based plants. It’s called the sequoia of the sea. We can turn it into zero-input biofuel—2,000 gallons per acre of ethanol. If you take an area the size of Maine, you could replace all the oil in the United States, according to the Department of Energy. The New Yorker recently called it the culinary equivalent of the electric car.

Our farms also function as storm surge protectors. Now that our coral reefs or oyster reefs are gone, our farms replace them. There are artificial reefs attracting over 150 species that come hide and thrive. My farm used to be a barren patch of ocean, and now it’s a thriving ecosystem.
As fishermen, we’re now climate farmers. Restoring rather than depleting, and really trying to tackle, in our own small way, the climate crisis we all face. We’re also trying to use our zero-input crops to replace land-based inputs. We’ve got a program with the Yale Sustainable Food Program to use our kelp as fertilizer in their organic farm. As the nitrogen leaches off back into the waters, we capture it and close that nitrogen loop.

Cattle have been eating kelp for hundreds of years, until industrial feed pushed it off the farm. If you feed cattle a majority diet of kelp, you get up to a 90 percent reduction in methane, and you get this beautiful tasting, umami-filled beef. It’s delicious stuff. When we bring this stuff into New York, I’m going to blow grass-fed beef off the table.

The idea is really to build a bridge between land and sea. Too often, our thinking about the food system stops at the water’s edge. I go to food conferences. There are maybe 1,000 people, and there’s this little break-off session about the ocean, and eight people attend. That’s why I’m absolutely frightened.

The last piece is building a foundation of a new economy that puts jobs, justice, and restoration at the center of the plate. Now, I’m not an environmentalist. I kill things for a living. You give me a gun, I’ll shoot moose out of my kitchen window. I grew up with seal hunts. And I wouldn’t be doing this unless it created jobs for the 40 percent of people that are unemployed in my community—unless it created opportunity for the millions of people that were left behind as we built the polluting industrial economy. That’s why I’m here.

We built Greenwave, which is a hybrid nonprofit/for-profit, to begin building this industry from the bottom up. We work to replicate and scale. We build the infrastructure necessary, and we develop new markets.

First thing we did was open-source our model. We don’t franchise. That’s a tool of the old economy. In a new economy, we make things accessible to everybody. Anybody with 20 acres and a boat and $30,000 can start their farm and be up and growing the first year. The key to replication is designing around simplicity, not complexity. Our farms require minimal capital costs and minimal skill. Think of it as the nail salon model of the sea.

And they’re profitable. Because we don’t have to feed and weed these things, we’re able to net up to $200,000 or $300,000 per farm and employ up to 10 people, and that’s just on the farm, that doesn’t count the processing centers.

As a farmer, you get some start-up grants. We give free seed, and we’re keeping the hatchery under the nonprofit side, because three companies own 53 percent of the land-based seed supply, and seed is the most expensive input for farmers. We’re going to look at our system and decide where profits can be extracted and where can’t they. They’re not going to come off the backs of new ocean farmers. We get gear from Patagonia, and we guarantee purchasing. It’s hard to farm in the era of climate change and globalization. We guarantee to buy up to 80 percent of farmers’ crops for three to five years at triple the market rate. We’re going to give people a stable platform so they can learn to grow.

We have requests flooding in. We’ve had requests to start farms in every coastal state in North America and 40 countries around the world. We have land-based farmers—young ones—just flooding in, because they can’t afford land. We also have our first farmer here in California who’s a Mexican American, second-generation plumber, and I’m really hoping is going to be the new face on the West Coast, so I never have to fly here again.

We’re also building a land-based infrastructure to scale. We have the largest hatchery network in the U.S., and we’re building seafood hubs so farmers can capture more of that value chain. Our land-based infrastructure is designed to be an engine of food justice—a place where we embed good jobs and food access into the DNA of the new ocean economy. In practice, this means placing our seafood hubs in communities that need it most. Our first one was in one of the poorest neighborhoods on the East Coast. Our starting wages are minimum $15 an hour, and it’s open employment, so don’t you dare bring your resume. I don’t care if you’re a former felon or undocumented worker, we’re going to figure out a way to work together.

This isn’t just about jobs. This isn’t about working in our processing factories. This is about agency. One of the major deficits in our society today is the feeling that you can make a difference—that you have to be an Amazon, you have to be a Google, in order to tackle the big problems. You don’t.
Our goal is to make sure the folks who were left behind from the old economy own their own farms, that they don’t have bosses, that they have self-directed lives. Giving people agency over their lives is a core value of this new ocean economy.

The last piece of the Green Wave program is innovation and market development. We’re developing new technologies for solar, harvesting boats, mobile hatcheries, data sensing. Data sensors make it so we can do pollution farming in places like the Bronx and measure our ecosystem services. We can use it not for the food system but for biofuels, because kelp is the soy of the sea, except for it’s not evil. The market power is that it has so many uses in so many sectors.

If you put this together, everybody asks me what does scale look like. It’s not thousand-acre banana plantations. It’s networks of 25 to 50 farms in a local region—a seafood hub, a hatchery on land, a ring of big institutional buyers (hospitals, colleges, companies like Google), and then a ring of entrepreneurs developing value-added products and doing the innovation. We take those Green Wave reefs and we replicate them every 200 miles. You see a Home Depot, we’re going to have a Green Wave reef right on top of it.

Offshore, we want to embed our farms in wind farms. Why just harvest wind? We have that structure, let’s do food, fuel, and fertilizer in those same spaces. Our oceans are huge places. There’s a lot of room to play, as long as we do it the right way.

To close, turning Green Wave’s vision into reality, I think, is a necessity. The land-based ag systems is entering these cycles of escalating crisis. Climate change is expected to drive up corn prices up to 140 percent in the next 15 years. It is terrifying, the carbon and methane output from the ag sector. You throw in population rise, growing inequality in the U.S. and around the globe, and food insecurities emerging as the new normal, and if that’s not enough, farmers can’t even make a living—91 percent of farmers in the U.S. lose money year after year. This is just a system that’s not working.

Climate change is going to force us into the ocean. I think that’s one of the real lessons of the droughts out here in California—we’re going to be forced out to sea. But our wild fisheries can’t handle it—85 percent of wild fish stocks are over-harvested, and we just can’t expect our fish to bear that burden.

This is all what’s so exciting: Climate change, at least out on the water, is breeding hope for those of us that are out there on our boats. Because this is our chance to do food right. For the first time in generations, to build an agricultural system from the bottom up. Our oceans are these blank slates. More of the U.S. is under water than above. This is our opportunity to protect rather than privatize our oceans, our seas, ensure beginning and low-income farmers have access to low-cost property, avoid all the mistakes made in industrial land-based ag and industrial aquiculture. Let’s invent whole new occupations to feed the planet and lift communities out of poverty.

This is the new face of environmentalism. It’s not just conservation and stopping pipelines. We have to do that, that is great stuff, but it’s also about building alternative visions. It’s about fighting climate change by creating jobs, and giving people meaning and agency. Wouldn’t that be a beautiful environmental movement, if we were pushing for that? We could be building an economy of food and work, where fishermen like me are proud to write songs about it. We can create something so beautiful, so powerful and restorative out at sea. And we can eat together, we can work together, and figure out how to make a living on a living planet.