Transcriber: Rhonda Jacobs
Reviewer: ZsĂłfia Herczeg (Speaking Indigenous language) Greetings, my relatives and my people. (Speaking Indigenous language) My name is Lyla June. (Speaking Indigenous language) I come from the [Indigenous name]
matrilineal clan of the Diné Nation. We are also incorrectly known
as the “Navajo Nation.” We are indigenous to what is now called
New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Utah, but we call it Diné Bikéyah,
the people’s land. (Speaking Indigenous language) I’m originally from Taos, New Mexico. (Speaking Indigenous language) In this manner I present myself
as a Diné woman. I'm here today to share a message of hope. This hope comes from what I’ve come across
in my doctoral research. This hope comes from what Native people
have proven is possible. For tens of thousands of years, Native people of this land constructed
beautiful gardens all around them. Contrary to the myth
of the “primitive Indian,” we were not passive observers of nature, nor were we wandering bands of nomads looking for a berry to eat
or a deer to hunt. No. By and large, we were active agents
in shaping the land to produce prolific abundance. We expanded and designed grasslands
and forests for the benefit of all life. And in many places,
we still do these things. We became what the world calls
a keystone species, or a species upon which
entire ecosystems depend. And our cultures became keystone
cultures refined over time. Now, much was made last year about the positive environmental
effect of the pandemic. As more people stayed home,
pollution levels dropped, animals began to reclaim habitat, and the logical leap
that many observers seemed to make was that the earth
would be better off without humans. I reject that leap. (Laughter) The earth may be better off
without certain systems we have created, but we are not those systems. We don’t have to be, at least. What if I told you
that the earth needs us? What if I told you that we belong here? What if I told you I've seen my people
turn deserts into gardens? What if these human hands and minds
could be such a great gift to the earth that they sparked new life
wherever people and purpose met? I’d like to share with you today four important Indigenous
land management techniques, ones I’ve identified
through my doctoral research in hopes that they might
inform and inspire us today. The first is to tap into and align
ourselves with the forces of nature. Why try to control the earth
when you can work with her? In Southwest deserts, for example, Native farmers have leveraged
the pre-existing topography of the land. They place their fields
at the base of watersheds to catch every drop of the monsoon rains, and the nutrients that flow down with them
carried down from upland soils. This alluvial farming technique requires
no outside fertilizers or irrigation because all of this comes with the rain. By tapping into pre-existing
natural systems, Native farmers have been able
to cultivate the same plots of land for centuries without ever
depleting the soil. Another fascinating
land management technique is intentional habitat expansion. Why put plants and animals
into farms and cages when you can simply make
a home for them and they come to you? For example, Indigenous peoples have intentionally
augmented grasslands for buffalo by bringing gentle fire
to the Great Plains. For millennia, following the grass burning
moon of our lunar calendars, we would transform dead plant tissues
into nutrient dense ash, nourishing the soil and unlocking
the seeds of pyro-adapted grasses and medicines like echinacea. Over time, this fire would prevent trees and shrubs
from taking over the grasslands and would nourish the soil to generate
topsoils up to four feet deep. Many people think
that we followed the buffalo, when in fact the buffalo
followed our fire. In this manner, we anthropogenically
expanded buffalo habitat as far south as Louisiana
and as far east as Pennsylvania. A third strategy I want to mention
is to de-center humans, create non-human-centric systems. Why hoard for your own species when you can live
to serve all life around you? For example, Coastal Salish Nations
of British Columbia enhance fish habitat by planting kelp forests
where the herring lay their eggs. This helps that small silver fish
lay even more eggs, rebound in even greater numbers, and both the eggs and the hatched herring
fish cascade up the food chain, nourishing so many other life forms, such as bear, salmon, orca,
eagles, wolves and more. Ironically, by seeding this food web
and feeding all life around them, Coastal Salish Nations have greater
food security for themselves because they feed the hand
that feeds them. The last strategy I want to mention
is to design for perpetuity. Design for perpetuity. Why plan for just the next fiscal quarter when we could plan
for generations not yet born? For example, tree pollen and ash
fall onto ponds for millennia. They sink to the bottom and engrave
an ancient story in the fossil record. One Kentucky sediment record shows how Shawnee ancestors
took care of a chestnut food forest for over 3,000 years straight. A sudden influx of fossilized
charcoal during the same period indicates that they managed it
with routine burning of the forest floor. Presumably this enriches the soil, helps the soil hold more water, and eliminates competing vegetation to boost the immune systems
of the trees they selected. Apparently it worked
because it lasted for millennia. What if our systems
were designed to last forever? So those are just four of many strategies that Native peoples and peoples
around the world have used: work with nature. expand habitat, de-center humans
and design for perpetuity. These are the types of food
and land management systems that Europeans came across
as they spread westward. They often mislabeled them
as “terra nullius” or “virgin land” or “wilderness” instead of what they really were: living heirlooms,
thousands of years in the making. You might say, Oh, that’s very nice, Lyla,
but that could never scale. That could never feed today's
massive global population. And to that I say,
contrary to popular belief, these continents were actually
densely populated by Indigenous people, as more and more studies are proving, and their food systems
still supported them. I would venture to say that these systems are even more efficient
than industrial food systems because they protect and augment
the very things that give us life instead of extracting and destroying them. Sometimes I wonder
what the world would look like if we applied these strategies to today - if we protected life and expanded life. I guarantee you, if we did, we'd no longer see humans
as a bane to the earth or something she'd be better off without. We'd see humans as a critical piece
of the ecological puzzle. I would love to see the world
adopt these strategies. And at the same time, I know it’s not
enough to simply mimic Native practices, we must also work to return some of these
lands to their original caretakers, for in addition to healing the soil - (Laughs) (Applause) (Cheers) Oh, thank you. I like this crowd. (Laughs) For in addition to healing the soil,
we must also heal our history as a nation. And we can do that together. So much of these continents
were conquered and stolen from a people who often
never wanted to fight in the first place. Countless Native people
were displaced from their homelands, their children put into boarding schools where our languages and cultures
were prohibited and destroyed. This legacy will not be healed by simply appropriating
and mimicking Native knowledge. We must also work to restore at least some of these stolen
places to Native people, who often live like refugees today, aching
to return to their sacred homelands. If we all unite together
in courage, in forgiveness, in amends and generosity, knowledge could be exchanged
and lands could be returned. There is a word in my language, “hózhó.” Can you guys say that? Hózhó. (Audience) Hózhó. Ooh, that sounds cool. (Laughter) We’ll do it one more time: hózhó. (Audience) Hózhó. Ooh, I like that. Hózhó is the joy of being
a part of the beauty of all creation. When we understand that humanity
is an expression of the earth’s beauty, we understand that we too belong. Hózhó understands that we have
an ecological role. HĂłzhĂł understands
that our Mother Earth needs us. When we become her friend, her confidant,
her ally, her partner in life, instead of her dominator,
her “superior” or her profiteer, we can transform
dead systems to living ones. And this does not involve
isolating national parks and never touching a blade of grass. No, it involves rolling up our sleeves, living within her processes, becoming a part of the earth’s system
as we were born to be, and using these minds
to protect and augment life on a holistic regional scale. If our ancestors around the world
proved this is possible, then it gives us hope
that we can do it again. Thank you for listening. (Applause) (Cheers)
Love this talk!