How Climate Change, Colonialism, and Our Right to Education as Indigenous Peoples in the Arctic are Deeply Intertwined

When you think about education, what comes to your mind? Do you visualize a classroom of students with tables and chairs facing a teacher and a whiteboard? Do you envision schools, books, and diplomas? Do you imagine family time in nature? Do you think about boat trips and sailing trips in the Arctic nature? There are different concepts of education depending on the cultural, regional, and social standpoint. Whatever comes to your mind is shaped by your upbringing, family, and societal discourses, but it is also shaped by hegemonies—dominant discourses or dominant narratives, usually shaped by media, news, films, and stories. The idea of education being connected to schools, classrooms, and books is Eurocentric. Its dominance stems from the Western idea of education being more commonly known than an Indigenous understanding and idea of education.

When we refer to education, we want you to unlearn your idea of education to then learn about our specific Inuit and Yupik Indigenous understanding of education. We want you to open up to the idea of how education is more than classrooms, books, and teacher-student relations. We want you to learn and acknowledge the historical and power-related aspects of the Western ideas of education coming from our experiences as Indigenous people. These would help you, as a reader, to understand education in a holistic manner, and from an Indigenous perspective—because our understanding of education is different.

The following pictures show:
Narwhal hunting season in the sea of Avanersuaq. This kayak is handmade by Miyuki’s father, Panigpak Daorana. In Avanersuaq, Inughuit still hunt narwhals in their Qajaqs with their harpoons because it is the least polluting hunting method, and it does not disrupt the sea mammals. The knowledge system behind a Qajaq requires 1. Engineering, 2. Knowledge in biochemistry to prepare, utilise, and maintain natural fabrics and materials, 3. Creativity and innovative talents, 5. Physics, 6. Climatology, 8. Atmospheric Science or Meteorology, 7. Methodology of hunting, and more things connected to the expertise in the world of hunting.

Inuit and Yupik Indigenous education and knowledge systems are deeply intertwined with nature. The way we learn is dictated by how the earth moves, the ocean flows and the sky shifts. It is rooted in survival but also care for each other and our community. Our values are integrated into the stories we tell our children. We learn through observation. However, these values and ways of knowing are not recognized by the Western world and are not seen as valid. Yet, it is these teachings and values that protect our earth. Our youth are pushed to make hard decisions to leave their home in pursuit of higher academia. As our education is interconnected with nature, it is also highly affected by the Climate Crisis.

This journal entry will showcase the connection between Indigenous education with colonialism and climate change, and how it is intertwined with the ongoing oppression of Indigenous peoples and Indigenous knowledge. It will take a closer look at empirical experiences on Arctic Indigenous education and Western education from our standpoints. We will then be able to elaborate on the complexity of education through the lens of our Indigenous and disciplinary perspectives and insights, and define a holistic understanding of the concept of education.

Although the histories of Greenland and Alaska are different, it is apparent that settler colonialism, the act of extracting land, resources, and even bodies, of Indigenous peoples and lands, changed our entire ways of life. This pattern is also deeply rooted in how education was used as a tool to forcefully assimilate Indigenous peoples in the Arctic.

A growing number of Inuit Indigenous decolonial activists prefer calling Greenland “Nunarput” as part of “Inuit Nunaat” because we share the same ancestral, cultural, and traditional roots. As part of decolonial activism, we will therefore also use Nunarput when referring to Greenland.

The following picture shows:
Miyuki and two of her sisters learning the lifelong lessons of self-sustainability. The house was built and created by their father, who now teaches his girls how to reuse and recycle materials for innovative creations and guides in problem-solving insights and skills.

Miyuki’s earliest memories of learning the Inughuit way of life were when she grew up in Avanersuaq in Northern Nunarput (Qaanaaq and its nearby villages). Her life circled the works of the weather, nature, and seasons. She used to join her father and uncles for dog sledding and hunting trips during the winter, and sailing and camping trips with her family during the summertime. These are her first experiences of learning through the use of her senses and emotions. Her father always says that you can only learn through mistakes. In other words, you need to unlearn and then relearn.

It is common knowledge among Inughuit in Avanersuaq that imported Western foods like spaghetti, beef, chicken, potatoes, and greens are unsuitable for living in the Arctic. Basically, Inughuit have experienced trying to survive the cold with Western foods and clothes, but it is only possible to survive the cold with locally sourced food and clothing. Indigenous Peoples view themselves as part of their environmental surroundings and natural ecosystems. Inuit rely on local resources, because their surroundings are specifically suited for their life in the given environment. Inughuit essentials have been utilized and practiced for centuries and maintained through generations because they are environmentally sustainable and hold ontological significance. Hunting, berry picking, fishing and living close to nature are deeply intertwined with the Inughuit language called Inuktun, as well as deeply linked to the identity and norms of the Inughuit. Unfortunately, the Government of Greenland and the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources create quotas that control and limit the hunting life. Local Indigenous Inughuit experience exclusion from scientists, biologists, and the authorities in the creation of quotas, which is one of many examples of how Social Darwinistic beliefs are embedded in current neocolonial systems in Nunarput.

When she was 8 years old, Miyuki and her family moved to Nuuk. Many families from smaller cities and villages have no other choice than to move to bigger cities because education, job markets, hospitals, and social privileges are centralized there. It is sad to leave one's home to be “educated” because the ‘old ways’ are not authorized nor recognized to be ‘valid’ as jobs or education. As an example, several Inughuit hunters from Avanersuaq have tried to open a multi-functional kayak workshop, an educational space to teach the next generation in Inughuit Qajaq craftsmanship, and a job opportunity for hunters who struggle to survive in the Danish- and Kalaallit-dominated job markets. However the dominance of the Danish language (and ontology) in all sectors of society is limiting and ‘controlling’ the lives of Inughuit (as quoted from one of the hunters), and preventing the Inughuit to have self-determination in what is in their educational system and job markets. The “modern” and “civilized” Danish way of living is a colonial mentality that many Greenlanders and Danes have.

Miyuki had to move further away from home in 2020, to study in Denmark, the UK, and now Norway. Over 4 years of working and studying, she noticed how professionalism was highly associated with formality and academics. She learned that feelings and sharing subjectivity or life experiences in workspaces (e.g., the UN and the Government of Greenland) are considered ‘unprofessional’ and ‘informal’. In Inuit ontology, however, feelings are knowledge; feelings are power, guiding and educating us in right and wrong. Actively incorporating feelings and knowledge generates a practice of empathy and ethics, which is missing in a lot of the debates, decisions, and works on the climate crisis, social justice, and political and cultural inequality.

Additionally, topics like shamanism, spirituality, intuition, or anything immeasurable are typically quickly categorized as something opposite to “logic”. It is often not seen as “valid” or “real”. In the Western academic and professional world, “objectivity” and “professionality” create a hierarchy of “what is factual” and “what is not”. Anthropologically, this stems from the Positivistic ideology, a Eurocentric construction that creates a hierarchy between “Western knowledge” and “Indigenous Knowledge”, where anything measurable and objective is the truth and anything subjective is the opposite. In other terms, it is also known as the Cartesian ideology, which reflects human superiority in having the ability to measure and understand everything. In Inuit Ontology, there is no such thing as human superiority or a dualistic opposition between “subjective” and “objective,” because uncertainty exists.

Scientific search for truths, conclusions, and meaning, and putting everything in systems and boxes limits our understanding of the world. Being self-critical and critical of dominant discourses and our worldviews is a way to get out of one’s own “professional” or “academic” bubble. It helps us to understand other worlds and ways of knowing by expanding our horizons.

As natives, the concept and experience of education are different. Given our colonial pasts in boarding schools, and neocolonial presence in having to rely on the Danish or English language, our experiences in leaving home are deeply intertwined with the historical trauma of the boarding school era among Indigenous peoples in the Arctic. During the late 19th and early 20th century, Indigenous children were taken from their families and placed in boarding schools. These institutions aimed to assimilate Native children into Western culture, often through harsh and abusive methods. The legacy of these boarding schools has had long-lasting effects on Native communities. Children were subjected to physical, emotional, and cultural abuse, which also included being forbidden to speak their native language and practicing their traditions. This disrupted Indigenous ways of life across generations. Today, the need to leave home for a “better” education continues to evoke feelings of displacement and loss among Native communities, and especially among the individuals leaving home.

The following pictures show:
Charitie's great grandparents and a family photo below taken in Kwigilignok.

Charitie Ropati grew up between Anchorage, Alaska, and the Native Village of Kongiganak, Alaska. Kongiganak is a tiny community that lies at the mouth of the lower Yukon Kuskokwim river; Anchorage is one of the biggest cities in Alaska with a population of a little over 300,000 people. She spent all her summers in Kongiganak learning a subsistence lifestyle; fishing for salmon, berry picking and living on the land. Her mother was raised in the Native Village of Kongiganak and then moved to Anchorage in pursuit of higher academia.

Rural Alaska Native communities throughout Alaska are at risk due to the climate. They are threatened by flooding and erosion. Out of the 229 federally recognized communities in the state of Alaska, 144 face some degree of infrastructural damage from erosion, flooding, permafrost degradation, or a perilous combination of all three hazards.

In Kwigillingok, flooding occurs every year, which is exacerbated by climate change. Homes began sinking and boardwalks became submerged underwater making it incredibly difficult to travel within the village. Fish camps are actively being washed away to the ocean, and snow machines and four wheelers are being lost to the ocean. In the past, the tribe has moved several homes, demonstrating that we have always held the capacity and resolution to relocate. Today, the managed retreat of Kwigillingok is urgent.

Charitie Ropati: In 1967, families moved from Kwigillingok to create Kongiganak. My great-grandfather, and other men moved our homes by tying a rope and wrapping them around our homes, and then used one small tractor, a snow machine and dog sleds to bring them 11 miles Northwest. Our families moved because they knew that the ground was sinking due to the thaw of permafrost. They knew and they thought ahead. They did this without the help of the federal government, state organizations and aid. Time and time again, we have seen Indigenous peoples not only in Alaska but throughout the world make these hard decisions and sacrifices, solely relying on themselves to ensure the survival of the next generation amidst a changing climate. This is the story of how my village came to be, and in part how I came to be.

Like most Alaska native children I grew up understanding what was at stake. When I was younger, my mom encouraged me to apply to a STEM program (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) in Anchorage. I was then accepted into the Alaska Native Science and Engineering Program, which changed the trajectory of my entire life. I graduated high school with my associates in Mathematics and then got accepted to one of the best universities in the world, Columbia University in New York City. My time at the university was incredibly hard.

Not only was the university over three thousand miles away from home, but the environment was incredibly different than that of what I was used to back home in Alaska.

I graduated from the School of Engineering and Applied Science at Columbia with a degree in Civil Engineering with a concentration in Water Resources with minors in Anthropology and Earth and Environmental Engineering in 2024. I am the first Alaska Native woman to graduate from my department at the School of Engineering at Columbia University in its 270-year history. Today, I am a Water Engineer.

My great-grandfather built mud houses with wood, mud and water. He made bows and arrows that can kill mammals like walrus, and he built kayaks out of driftwood bending it into perfect seafaring curves, while the women in our family sewed seal skin on it. This is who I have behind me.

Indigenous education is intertwined with the environment. We learn on-site, interacting with our surroundings, using all of our senses and following the flows of nature. Our educational system and knowledge structure in the Arctic are unfortunately being more and more disrupted because of the Climate Crisis. Due to the instability and unpredictability of sea ice, weather, and seasons, biodiversity and animal migration are disrupted.

Our educational knowledge system consists, for example, of knowing that there is a great depth and life/soul/purpose in every single natural phenomenon and being. Something as small as a mouse has a unique purpose, knowledge, and a set of skills. And something as big as the marine ecosystem has its uncertainties and complexities, that are beyond human capabilities and understanding. This is why our Indigenous Ontologies, specifically from Inughuit and Yupik, have immense respect for our surroundings, knowing that we are not masters over nature or “animals”. This respect and ontology of being a part of our surroundings is deeply intertwined with our way of educating, experiencing, learning, and sharing Indigenous knowledge. Our educational ontology is therefore linked to our moral and ethical codes, as well as so-called “religious beliefs”. We learn how to interact with nature and its beings, and how to utilize and give back through our core principles of respect and reciprocity. We learn by doing.

Indigenous youth are at the forefront of movements advocating for clean water and environmental justice. Our unique perspectives and dedication to preserving traditional ideologies make our voices critical in shaping the future.

Education is not only books and classrooms, it is an active development shaped by the environment and interaction with the surrounding people. Education happens in every corner of our everyday lives, we gain different forms of skills and knowledge when we for example play sports, read an article, or visit a country. You can gain, among other things, social, emotional, cultural, and political intelligence.

Unfortunately, the Indigenous way of education in Nunarput and Alaska has been affected and harmed by both the Climate Crisis and colonialism. Eurocentrism, historical colonialism, and contemporary neo-/post-colonialism play a central role in the oppression of Indigenous knowledge and education. Boarding schools have disrupted the traditional education of Indigenous peoples in the Arctic.

From our experience, the Eurocentric way of education is focused on learning and teaching through books and in structured classrooms, with a specific set of roles, norms and rules between teachers and students. Education has been categorized into topics such as “mathematics,” “art,” “language,” “cultural and societal studies.” The literary way of learning creates a distance and dissociation between the student and the topics. The roles and rules in Western academia create a hierarchy and a static/structural and therefore limiting way of learning. The dominance of Eurocentric and Euro-American-centric ontologies are interconnected to the colonial structures of discriminating Indigenous knowledge and people.

It is vital that history is taught from the point of view of Indigenous ideologies and Indigenous ways of life. When this history is not acknowledged, this pattern of extraction follows and is present in contemporary structures and power systems. This greatly contributes to the invisibility that Indigenous people face worldwide. This is our reality.

Indigenous peoples, though a small fraction of the world's population, protect the majority of its biodiversity. It is important that the traditional knowledge and education systems that are already in place in Indigenous communities are protected and supported. We need to educate about the colonial events from Indigenous standpoints, to be able to acknowledge how historical events are still present in contemporary structure—that these are not mere concepts, but the reality of our lives. We cannot remove feelings away from debates and decision-making on the climate crisis, colonialism, equality, and other issues. From thereon, we can begin to incorporate and include Indigenous knowledge, to then break inequality and barriers, to ensure quality education for all.

No. 10/2024, 7 November 2024

This article is a part of the Arctic Circle Journal Series which provides insight, understanding and new information. The material represents the opinions of the author but not those of Arctic Circle.