Decolonizing geoscience requires more than equity and inclusion

Colonial relationships with Indigenous land and knowledge in geoscience disciplines must be acknowledged to address harm and change how science is done, argues Max Liboiron.

Science has long played an integral role in colonialism. Since the European Enlightenment, research on tropical and Arctic climates, diseases like malaria, and on soils and the cultivation of plants, among other topics, was required to prepare “new” lands for settlers and settlers for those lands. At the same time, science was considered a gift that imperial powers brought to colonies, part of what was seen as a civilizing mission. The replacement of local forms of knowledge with Western science was considered a mark of success.

Colonialism is not a historical event, but an ongoing set of relations that still characterize the common sense of professional science. As more scientists come to realize that science has power relations that do not serve all people equally, we are left trying to understand how we might change the way science is done. Anticolonial science is not only possible, but is being created by both Indigenous and non-Indigenous people today.

The current mechanisms of colonialism might look different but non-Indigenous entitlement to Indigenous land, life and knowledge still characterizes everyday relations in science. In the geosciences, samples are collected from Indigenous land without Indigenous consent¹ and mining and extraction continue² as Indigenous groups protest the developments. Colonial entitlement leads to scientists sailing around the world to gather water samples, professors picking up rocks on hikes for pedagogical show and tell, and scientists crunching numbers in datasets that seem landless, so they deem no permissions necessary. Indigenous DNA³, bodies and parts of land are stolen and treated as nothing more than samples. However, colonialism is not just clashes with Indigenous communities about research or fieldwork, it pervades the entire practice of science.

As a dominant system, colonial relationships with land, life and knowledge have become mundane. Dominant systems stay dominant, in part because they dictate what counts as common sense: what seems normal and even natural. Colonialism continues through the assumed universal superiority of civilized, Western ways of knowing and doing. Local and Indigenous ways of knowing are considered insufficient or simply heritage. Science camps for Indigenous youth taught by settler teachers aim to lift youth out of their underdeveloped local settings and into bright futures, a trajectory that takes them further and further from Indigenous ways of knowing, language and community teachers. Academic scientists sometimes advocate for Indigenous participation in science through citizen science. This is seen as development and success.

These are our inheritances as scientists, whether we like them or not. What’s a researcher to do?

First, we must be specific. Colonialism is about access to Indigenous land and the replacement of Indigenous ways of knowing and living. The opposite of colonialism is not inclusion. Adding more Indigenous texts to a syllabus neither impacts land relations nor changes the dominant knowledge paradigm. In fact, using Indigenous knowledge to enrich non-Indigenous learning has been a core component of colonial knowledge systems that require local knowledge to survive and flourish on colonized land. Whenever I hear the phrase “Indigenous voice” instead of terms like “expertise” I know the uneven power dynamics of Western versus non-Western knowledge systems is firmly in place, through inclusion.

Being specific about what we mean by colonialism in science is essential if we aren’t to mistake other positive actions for anticolonialism. Inclusion, respect, anti-racism, equity, finding common ground, environmentalism and diversification are essential, but they do not usually address colonialism⁴. If colonialism means non-Indigenous access to Indigenous lands, knowledge and lives, what would the opposite of that look like?

We need to investigate our own scientific practices. How do our disciplines, pedagogical norms and research methods benefit from access to Indigenous land, life and knowledge? Who has done the research on Indigenous land and where are they from⁵? What are the permission processes for field trips and research sites, including seemingly landless datasets? What open-access data management policies are in place and how might they increase access to Indigenous land, rather than respect it⁶? If your department has sample archives, where are they from? What are the implications of saying a research group is the first to have knowledge of something on Indigenous land⁷?

We should accept that sometimes the anticolonial move is to stop. To not do the research if you don’t have permission from Indigenous people and governing bodies. To not propose research with Indigenous groups or on Indigenous land unless you’ve been explicitly invited by those groups. To not use the sample extraction method that creates toxic chemicals that require land to absorb. To stop carbon-intensive research that directly impacts Arctic and other Indigenous peoples⁸. All forms of ceasing or mitigating the entitlement to Indigenous life and land are anticolonial science, and can be practiced by anyone⁹.

Finally, practicing anticolonial science requires us to treat Indigenous knowledge as expertise, rather than culture. Cite us. Pay us as experts when you need us in your classrooms and panels. Talk to us before you complete a grant application as full collaborators, rather than as unfunded additions at the end. Don’t take it personally when we still say no. Repatriate data and samples.

In all of this, we must first learn about the ways our disciplines have specifically aligned with and benefited from colonialism so that everyone can see those legacies with enough clarity to address them.