“Indigenous” Nature Connection? A Response to Kurth,Narvaez,Kohn,and Bae (2020)

We are a diverse group of scholars, both Indigenous People and settlers. We share deep concerns around environmental issues, social justice, and building positive reciprocal relationships between Indigenous Peoples and settler peoples, and attempt to address these concerns in our research, teaching, and political activities. Similar to the editors of and contributors to the recent special issue of Ecopsychology (Vol. 12, Issue 2) on “Wisdom traditions, science, and care for the Earth,” we believe that many wisdom traditions, particularly Indigenous cultures and ways of knowing, are better suited to a sustainable relationship between humans and the rest of the natural world than the prevailing “wisdom” of dominant Western culture. In the words of Wildcat (2009), “Humankind now needs a good dose of indigenous realism that demonstrates the miseducative character of the dualisms, dichotomies, and categorizations that dominate the thinking and activities of a growing number of humans on the planet today” (p. 68).

We also strongly believe that scholarly applications of Indigenous ways of knowing must proceed with care, or they risk reinforcing a Colonial/Western mindset and doing harm to Indigenous Peoples. This harm can occur even when the scholars' own intentions are to honor Indigenous ways of knowing. An example that prompted our commentary is an article in the aforementioned special issue, entitled “Indigenous Nature Connection: A 3-Week Intervention Increased Ecological Attachment” (Kurth, Narvaez, Kohn, & Bae, 2020). We appreciate the intention of the authors to demonstrate the value of ways of connecting to nature that are more reflective of Indigenous cultures than Western industrialized culture. Their article presents Indigenous ways of connecting to nature in a positive light, as something that humanity in general can learn from, and that might be necessary for global survival. However, the article also represents Indigenous Peoples and traditions in problematic ways that deviate from best practice for research about Indigenous Peoples. The concerns we raise are emblematic of a larger social problem that we contend has broader implications for how non-Indigenous researchers engage with and represent Indigenous Peoples in their work.

Kurth et al. developed measures that reflected what they believed to be an Indigenous orientation toward the natural world, drawing on Indigenous scholarship. In their words, “The current studies attempted to examine and promote this kind of Indigenous perspective toward the natural world—a perspective that is both mindful of and empathic with more-than-human entities as part of one's relational community” (p. 102).

In the Pilot Study and Study 1, the authors developed two measures of Indigenous ecological attachment, namely “ecological empathy” and “ecological mindfulness.” Both submeasures were correlated with self-reports of “green action” (e.g., purchasing used items, recycling batteries, organic lawn care, and writing letters to lawmakers urging better environmental protection). The relationship between these actions and ecological empathy was especially strong. “The aim of Study 2,” as described by the authors, “was to test whether we could alter Indigenous ecological attachment (ecological mindfulness and ecological empathy) with a behavioral intervention to help participants reconnect to the natural world” (p. 109). The authors randomly assigned undergraduate students to a control condition, a condition in which they performed conservation behaviors daily, or a condition in which they performed daily tasks meant to increase “Indigenous ecological attachment.” Most tasks lacked a clear connection to Indigenous culture, such as “establish a relationship with a tree near your dorm,” “notice the clouds throughout the day,” “sit outside for five minutes and listen to nature sounds,” and “take a walk around the lake today.” A few tasks had a more obvious connection to Indigenous cultures but were abstracted and disconnected from an Indigenous context: “Face each of the four directions each morning, take a breath and give thanks for the life-forms in that direction” and “Give thanks for the element of water today. What bodies of water are you grateful for?” Over 3 weeks, students in the latter condition significantly increased in their ecological empathy and ecological mindfulness scores.

By the typical standards of experimental psychology, this research is reasonable and well conducted. Those of us who have trained or identify as experimental social psychologists can appreciate how Kurth et al. carefully developed and validated measures and tested an intervention experimentally. However, we are highly disturbed that the measures and interventions used in the article were described and labeled as “Indigenous ecological attachment.” Indeed, most of our concerns would be addressed if the authors had refrained from claiming that they were measuring and manipulating “Indigenous nature connection,” and instead stuck to the labels “ecological empathy” and “ecological mindfulness.” The authors instead attempt to instill “Indigenous Nature Connection” in non-Indigenous, mostly white college students. This is a form of cultural appropriation to claim that by following the simple activities laid out in their intervention anyone can have the same kind of connection to nature as Indigenous Peoples (Sharkey, 2020). This approach reduces a historical, ancestral, and lived connection to specific lands to a psychological orientation toward nature in general. If non-Indigenous peoples can develop something worthy of the label “Indigenous Nature Connection” (and we are not comfortable claiming they can), surely we would want that to include a deep understanding of colonization and actual relationships with contemporary Indigenous Peoples.

The article takes voice and agency away from Indigenous Peoples, as the authors, none of whom claim an Indigenous background in the article, end up defining “Indigenous nature connection” rather than letting Indigenous Peoples define it. Similarly, the authors do not mention whether they consulted with any Indigenous People or groups about the project or their claims. In multiple senses, Indigenous Peoples are absent in a way that we would not expect for an article on Indigenous Nature Connection—the participants are not Indigenous, and it does not appear that any Indigenous collaborators were involved in conducting or consulting on the research. Because Indigenous Peoples are only represented as a broad category, actual Indigenous cultures, which are highly varied and specific to place are also missing.

We are also concerned that the characterization of Indigenous Peoples as connected to nature is overly simplistic. Simplifying Indigenous ecological attachment to ecological empathy and ecological mindfulness taps into romantic and static conceptualizations of Indigenous Peoples. By failing to acknowledge the ways in which Indigenous Peoples comprise a heterogeneous complex set of groups with unique, ancestral, and ongoing relationships to specific places, the authors reify stereotypes of Indigenous Peoples as primitive, uncivilized, and monolithic. The article ignores the diversity of ways in which different Indigenous groups connect to nature, through specific nation-based practices, stories, and beliefs.

Some of the authors' characterizations of Indigenous nature connection are reminiscent of problematic representations in popular culture. For example, one of the behaviors in the intervention, “establish a relationship with a tree,” reminds us of the Grandma Willow character from Disney's Pocahontas. The simplicity of these stereotypes ignores history, the effects of colonization, and the more complex relationships that contemporary Indigenous Peoples have with nature as a result of land theft, forced dislocation, and the realities of economic survival under colonization (Atleo, 2015; Gilio-Whitaker, 2017; Nadasdy, 2005). This represents another problematic absence of contemporary Indigenous Peoples and their lived experiences. The majority of Indigenous Peoples living in the United States and Canada now live off-reservation and in suburban or urban communities (Statistics Canada, 2017; Urban Indian Health Commission, 2007; Whittle, 2017), complexifying the link between ancestral lands and Indigenous identities (Wilson & Peters, 2005).

This oversimplification and homogenization of Indigenous knowledge and experiences is emblematic of a larger societal problem that we contend must be addressed. The romanticization of Indigenous Peoples has direct negative effects, for example, by limiting the possible goals and futures that Indigenous youth can imagine for themselves (Fryberg, Markus, Oyserman, & Stone, 2008). Indigenous scholars have long argued that oversimplified characterizations of their cultures are part of the ongoing settler colonial process that continually works to suppress and destroy the institutions, practices, and values of Indigenous Peoples (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005; Simpson, 2014; Smith, 2013). Although the authors clearly did not intend to contribute to these colonial processes, the simplistic homogenized characterization of Indigenous ecological attachment, the cultural appropriation, and the lack of inclusion of contemporary Indigenous Peoples are all characteristic of the ongoing nature of settler colonialism (Berkhofer, 1977; Eason, Pope, Becenti, & Fryberg, 2020; Fryberg, Covarrubias, & Burack, 2018; Wolfe, 2006). The article has potential to do harm to Indigenous Peoples, and we find it regrettable that the journal published the article in its current form.

To be clear, we agree that the article considers an important topic. We welcome research that explores how Indigenous wisdom traditions and practices can influence broader society and provide ways of connecting to nature that contribute to the defense of land, water, and air. However, that work must proceed with extreme care. Ideally, such work would be done in the context of equal relationships with Indigenous Peoples. The article by Long, Lake, Goode, and Burnette (2020) provides a useful example of respectful collaboration between practitioners of science and other wisdom traditions. Researchers, especially non-Indigenous ones, must be self-reflexive about how they represent Indigenous cultures and peoples. For instance, we appreciate how the articles by Gonzales (2020) and Coope (2020) advocate respectful attention to Indigenous wisdom traditions while providing important critiques of the appropriation and misrepresentation of Indigenous knowledge alongside suggested protocols for respectful knowledge exchange.

Finally, we recognize that some of us (authors of this critique) work in fields that value quantification, “objectivity,” and methods that are too often disconnected from historical context. We do not claim to be immune to the biases that such an approach might encourage, and struggle in our own work to avoid replicating processes of settler colonialism. Indeed, we sometimes need others to point out when we make mistakes. We offer this critique as part of a collective effort to address bias in academic research and hope that Kurth et al. and other readers can receive this response in the constructive way that we intend.