Thank you for the opportunity to meet with you today.
I'd like to begin by acknowledging that we are gathering on the traditional and unceded territory of the Algonquin nation.
I'm a non-indigenous scholar at the University of Alberta, which is located in Treaty 6 and Métis territory. As noted, I hold a UNESCO chair, which I hold collectively with Danika Billie Littlechild and Mariam Wallet Aboubakrine. Along with many other amazing people, we lead the Arramat project, which is a six-year initiative funded by the Canadian tri-council focused on supporting indigenous-led research on biodiversity, conservation, and health and well-being.
I have been working in Canada and internationally for over 25 years at the interface between traditional knowledge, science and natural resource management. Today, I bring to you some reflections, with gratitude to the many indigenous people with whom I have worked for many years.
One cannot talk about the linkages between science and indigenous knowledge without recognizing the inequities of representation that are so clear in post-secondary institutions and government. There are significant biases in who has access to resources, including the provincial norths, to produce knowledge and be heard at tables like this. The fact that I am presenting to you today, and not a great northern indigenous scholar such as Nicole Redvers or leader such as Herb Nakimayak from the Inuit Circumpolar Council, speaks to the unsettling biases we have in Canada about whose knowledge matters.
Indigenous knowledge is often stereotyped as produced and held only by elders and based in the distant past. However, I have had the honour to witness that indigenous knowledge comes from deep and ongoing physical and spiritual relationships to nature, and it is generated, held and shared within and between communities in diverse ways. It is more relevant today than ever, particularly for youth, who often struggle to find their place.
As expressed recently in a science-culture camp led by Łutsel K'e Dene First Nation in the Northwest Territories, youth want to learn and speak their own languages and to develop knowledge and skills from both elders and scientists. There is much to learn from indigenous youth about creating culturally safe learning spaces and opportunities. Let's ask them.
We need to pay attention to places where things have gone—and are still going—terribly wrong. Conventional kinds of science have created, rather than solved, many environmental sustainability problems. Knowledge conflict over the risks of oil sands mining in Cree, Dene and Métis territory in Alberta is an obvious case in point. Headlines about the extirpation of southern mountain caribou herds in Alberta are also revealing of the profound science-policy disconnects that we have in Alberta and Canada. It has only been through the leadership and courage of indigenous communities that some glimmers of hope have emerged for caribou and for people.
There are also success stories of knowledge co-production and co-management that I'd like to highlight, including the long-term collaborations between biologists and Inuvialuit communities to monitor beluga whales in the Beaufort Sea. Thanks to the hard work and vision of harvesters such as Frank Pokiak and devoted scientists—I'll note that most of them in this example are women—this program has produced over 40 years of data on beluga health, which is the envy of many governments around the world.
What differentiates the success stories from those of conflict? Many things do. At the forefront is respect for indigenous knowledge, but also legally binding institutional arrangements—agreements with teeth—that uphold indigenous land and resource rights. The successes of these kinds of programs also lie at the community level, with small organizations like hunters and trappers committees—also managed by powerhouse young women—whose efforts are little recognized and whose work is chronically underfunded. Support from the federal government for the indigenous guardians program is a wonderful step forward, but more resources are needed for indigenous-led research.
Addressing these issues cannot be done in a vacuum. Why do indigenous peoples in Canada, particularly in the provincial norths, not have access to clean drinking water, safe and affordable housing, healthy environments and foods, and opportunities to build thriving livelihoods? These are basic human rights. Let's implement the calls to action on truth and reconciliation, address the terms of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and also address the commitments on climate change and in the global biodiversity framework.
Let's work together to create and ensure healthy environments and communities where we can all be proud to live.