Decolonizing Indigenous science: Bees and Indigenous sovereignty

Rapid habitat loss and non-native species introduction are a by-product of colonization and imperialism resulting in the large scale extinction and extirpation of species globally (Davies 2011; Scheper et al. 2014; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019). Agricultural and industrial intensification within the last two centuries have accelerated Lands¹ degradation, especially in usurped Indigenous territories; all living beings², including Indigenous peoples, are displaced by such activities (Brown and Paxton 2009; Winfree 2010; Kline and Joshi 2020). The 1950s represented an acceleration for mass agricultural and industrial intensification in pursuit of lands for cash crops, reaching previously-unmanaged Lands that had provided refuges for Bee communities; this led to large reductions of biodiversity around production areas (Scheeper et al. 2014; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019). Although many rare mammal species are only found within Indigenous territories, demonstrating the support provided by Indigenous land management practices (O'Bryan et al. 2020), many territories are considered “too valuable” to be left to the Indigenous stewardship. Many Indigenous communities are unable to interact with their ancestors’ Lands due to those “becoming”³ state or private property; Lands have become “productive” by being worked into farming and forestry (McNeely 1994; Toledo 1999; Koch et al. 2019). This “transfer” of Lands, therefore inherent power, from the resourcing⁴ Indigenous communities to resourced colonizers heavily impacts Indigenous peoples, Indigenous sovereignty, and the surrounding biodiversity (Nakagawa 2013; Kouritzin and Nakagawa 2018).

As greater proportions of the global population urbanizes, a greater divide is created from Lands and peoples, Indigenous or settler⁵; Lands abuse and negligence has led to a significant loss of ecological function (Brown and Paxton 2009; Borras Jr. et al. 2015; Preece et al. 2016). Described as Organic solidarity⁶, Durkheim (1965) pretends it is evidence of human progress and does not see the limitations of being bound to wages (Fenton 1984). Industrial and urban growth combine to create and develop urbanite identities (Ohnuki-Tierney 1993) who rely on money instead of food as a foundation for life. Such practices, collectively “accumulation by dispossession” (Harvey 2003), result in disconnect of humans from Lands (Durkheim 1965; Fischer 2008). As cities are built and people migrate to them, other beings and habitats are disrupted and displaced, frequently entrapping human and non-human beings in small refuges dispersed across their previous home ranges (Cowie and Holland 2006; Winfree 2010; Scheper et al. 2014; Koch et al. 2019; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019; Wood et al. 2019). As refugia are dispersed and destroyed, Indigenous communities are forced to either move onto reserves and outlands to maintain cultural practices or “integrate” into capitalist city-states (Crosby 2003; Beckert 2015). Alternatively, they are “let die” for progress of the state (Li 2009).

Autonomy for Indigenous peoples who live with the land was one of the main purposes behind establishing Indigenous food sovereignty (IFS). IFS seeks autonomy, if not sovereignty, from their settler oppressors, most often a nation state (Nakagawa 2023), because the relationship with oppressors impedes the transfer of information-based knowledges (IBK) and wisdom-based knowledges (WBK) of Indigenous communities⁷ (Nakagawa 2008; Borras Jr. et al. 2015). A lack of IFS impacts on Indigenous communities are that they are unable to farm, hunt, gather, or precure and preserve foods in their traditional ways; Indigenous land management practices reflect the ability to maintain and sustain ecosystems without sacrificing future generations though traditional ecological knowledges (TEKs). Currently, much of the monetary ecosystem services (MES), the net benefits that an ecosystem provides, are attributed to former TEK practices of Indigenous communities (Preece et al. 2016). MES evaluations often do not consider Indigenous communities philosophies, identities, or perspectives (Chan et al. 2012); service assessment practices are still rather rudimentary if not considering Lands management. Discussions of integrating Indigenous communities for MES require an identity conversion to non-traditional societal values such as monetary valuation and servitude to enter the “global market” (Baer-Nawrocka and Sadowiski 2019; Ehrenfeld 2003), thereby industrializing Indigenous peoples themselves. In tandem with a lack of recognition in MES evaluations, food is produced under sovereign state guidelines, which limits Indigenous peoples’ autonomy and their relationships with Lands (e.g., stewardship and food production). Both through exclusion of Indigenous peoples and transformation of Lands inhabited, states proliferate power through infinite mutated forms; colonization and imperialism mobilizes displacement, genocide, and banning of traditional practices to further develop a “global economy” (Beckert 2015; Luby 2020; Nakagawa 2023).

Bee⁸ communities are impacted by human power dynamics (Steffan-Dewenter and Tshcarntke 2001; Müller and Kuhlmann 2008); Bee communities frequently benefit from the Indigenous land management with fallowing, burning, and planting practices increasing Bee diversity (McNeely 1994; Steffan-Dewenter and Tshcarntke 2001; Jha and Dick 2010). Human politics and displays of power ripple into the practices of the non-human beings, since many Bee species rely on management and diverse habitats for pollen resources, thus endangering Bees and their relations (Asian 2015; Steffan-Dewenter and Tshcarntke 2001; Müller and Kuhlmann 2008). Indigenous peoples and Bees are also subject to human ignorance; most media coverage is focused on food security, in which Indigenous communities are given western food staples instead of traditionally relevant ones, and on honeybees, thereby relegating communication to a singular, commodified species rather than diverse Indigenous crops or native Bees that are at risk of extinction (Smith and Saunders 2016). Bees and Indigenous communities are subject to conditions in which their diets must change to be accepted into western society’s capitalistic ideologies; food commodification changes agricultural practices, thereby changing the lineage and adaptation of Bees. By this change, food and pollen commodification changes conversations about sovereign and independent systems into distribution and security of food and pollen; shifts from self-sufficient food systems to institutionalized diets require different inputs for success, from Egyptian phosphate to Canadian potash to atmospheric nitrogen (Baer-Nawrocka and Sadowiski 2019; Ryser et al. 2019). Lands that Indigenous People and Bees continue to live on are not protected; large segments of the land are included in this globalized market with many Indigenous communities at risk of losing their food sovereignty and cultures (Nakagawa 2013).

Research and researchers are currently at the centre of imperialist controversy, especially scientists; ethics regarding researcher-researched relations are still a controversial and important conversation. As all authors are Indigenous, we have been granted an opportunity to become “insidious insiders” (Nakagawa 2013), that is, researchers who capitalize their own identity and knowledges to gain greater prestige and honour in the eyes of a state; however, we actively push against exploitation of our own relations. However, we all also understand and recognize that our settler or resourced colleagues are not bounded by the same principles and ethics; one can walk in, take TEK, and leave without consequence or accountability. As scientists, we are frequently told to be the “trailblazers”, “entrepreneurs”, and “innovators” of a society born from empires enslaving, displacing, and genociding Indigenous peoples. What ethics and responsibilities are born from mission(ary) societies are scientists to follow when working with those who were exploited by empires and kingdoms. Scientific studies still underly a global society rather than Indigenous sovereignty, assuming that all humans should live within a globalized system rather than their traditional subsistence ways; if most endangered species are found within Indigenous territories, then what is it to “integrate” Indigenous peoples into science that has supported a global capitalist system. Science, in this context, is then not for everyone; science is only for those who chose to live in the remnants of empire.

There is a lack of literature that discusses and investigates the use of environmental quality and biodiversity as symbols of Indigenous sovereignty, with predominant academic literature focusing on self-governance structures, government–Indigenous relations, and researcher-researched relations (e.g., Luby et al. 2021; No’kmaq et al. 2021). This does not mean that these discussions are not important; however, we assume that the law stands above all, including those who were forced into its rules. Literature predominantly focuses on how to mobilize Indigenous IBK without the necessary WBK base; a conversation on decolonizing academia cannot proceed without the baseline understanding of the foundational WBK. Researchers who study Indigenous communities frequently only consider access to healthcare, education, and resources but then do not acknowledge the connection that many Indigenous communities have to land, water, and biodiversity, thereby dispossessing those communities from their foundational rights. Rarely, researchers position themselves in respectful ways to those holding traditional knowledges (e.g., Carothers et al. 2021). However, even in scientific discourse, there is too much discussion regarding objectivity and statistical analysis; qualitative data are frequently thought of as lower quality by the dominant science culture (Liboiron et al. 2018; Liboiron 2021). We must understand how objectivity, and therefore the removal of identity, can be both useful and colonial (Held 2023); we all acknowledge that TEK exists and that worldviews are different from scientists, but knowing is weaponized when ideas of statistics and the scientific method are imposed on communities who already know holistically, and who then have data-driven management forced on them (Donkersloot and Agli 2024).

Science is in itself its own self-contained theoretical framework that is driven by the Popperian falsification of the 1930s; in it, there must be a possibility that a hypothesis can be wrong to actually be scientific. An example is provided by Popper 2002; Einstein’s theory of relativity had to be proven correct by experimental data while Freud’s psychoanalytical theories always had an explanation. The idea behind laboratory and field studies is that chemical and compositional analysis might reveal structures unseen by human observation through objective measure; by providing hypothesis that could be proven incorrect, science prevails. However, although science aims to answer questions, there is a limit to what we can understand; a lack of humanity in our objectivity (Carrier 2013), reduce meaningful interactions that have subjective meanings to only quantitative measures. Popper’s (1934) framework has been focused on making an objective that can be tested through statistics; although we can provide hypotheses, we only construct them as yes–no (0.00–1.00) spectrum of probabilities, with explanations only provided when right. A by-product of Popperian objectification (or, rather, simplification of Popper’s philosophy) is an irrelevance of qualitative data or human observation; if it cannot be statistically proven or factored, then it is irrelevant. A question frequently posed to all three authors (both scientists and social scientists) is “is uritit provable” or “how do we know” when we discuss theoretical frameworks and discussions; the point is not to prove that something occurs, but rather provide the perspective that frames our research question. Ironically, it is frequent that the rules of Popperian falsification are not followed when regarding Indigenous peoples.Steeves (2021) describes the colonial narrative that the Bering Strait Hypothesis is the only valid theory in archaeology, therefore any site > 12 000–14 000 BCE old are disregarded and uninvestigated; however, if Bering Strait Hypothesis is a scientific one, then the evidence should be tested! Unfortunately, the scientific method disregards the necessity of describing our theoretical frameworks that even impacts our statistical analyses. Clearly, if research is unexplained, then it is only for those who have paid to learn it and understand it; all others need not be necessary (see Holtgreen and Auer 2023 for greater discussion). Work and labour of research is no longer about who is involved but rather who found it first.

We hope to bring to light a discussion on how objectivity and quantitatively focused science is, in of itself, a subjective field that requires application of identity and theoretical framework to truly understand systems. When the p-value is either 0.049 or 0.051, who determines if it is a significant or insignificant value; human choices drive what we consider as conventional practice. There remains questions to how we act upon non-significant data trends, where performing or taking certain actions are necessary regardless of their “significance” to meet the values of that particular group. Why is p < 0.05 the standard for all statistical tests even if the context does not allow for enough power or confidence to support the value. Although Popperian falsification dominates the scientific method, we question the utility of it when it comes to working on problem-oriented research; when in Indigenous communities, do we tell members that their water is not toxic if we can see them suffering? Regardless of toxicity, who then owns the data collected: community members or outsiders. If it is outsiders who own the data, then the research team never questioned itself, therefore never consulted people in the first place. Problems and ethics are a major problem since, without our identities and theoretical frameworks, there is actually no answer to our questions that would be meaningful.

This piece will consider the sovereignty of pollinators, particularly Bees. The reason Bees are considered in this paper is because they are prominent pollinators, with ∼90% plant species depending on services provided by Bees; Bees are drivers of terrestrial ecological structures (Olsson et al. 2008; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019). We utilize Bees as a keystone in our discussion due to the fact that Bees are well known in society and that Bees themselves have objectivity shrouding their ecology and interactions with humans. We will be discussing how Bees are symbols of Indigenous sovereignty, how both Bees and Indigenous peoples are impacted by colonization and habitat/land loss, and how they both affect their surrounding environments. We suggest an Indigenous worldview is necessary, that is donning a lens through which humans are viewed as an active participant in the ecosystem and not just an observer or scientist or researcher, and that Bees are more than their labour; they are not servants to the flora, fauna, and other beings as pollinators. The objective of this conceptual article is to suggest that Bee studies (and science more generally) have been constrained by an anthropocentric focus, one foregrounding the perspectives of people and the uses of Bees in human lives. To do this, we (1) discuss the ecological functions that both Indigenous people and Bees provide, (2) review the drivers of the decline of Bees and how those drivers relate to Indigenous sovereignty, and (3) discuss the ramifications of institutional education and research systems upon Indigenous and Bee communities. We believe that decentering the human gaze in agroecological research will also ensure that concepts like sustainability, sovereignty, and TEK will take on new, non-economic resonances, and actually ensure that research contributes to the survival of all beings, not just humans.

One may think where does our discussion and symbolism of Bees come from; simply put, we are more related than most people believe. The uniqueness of Bees compared to other pollinators (hoverflies, bats, butterflies, etc.) are that they are central place-foragers, nesting then provisioning pollen for larvae only in optimal conditions (Olsson et al. 2008); as Bees collect pollen for their offspring, they create elaborate nests to protect young, travel for pollen, and eventually die after nests are complete or are killed by predators (Sotherton 1998; Steffan-Dewenter and Tscharntke 2001; Olsson et al. 2008). Humans do the same as Bees, building strong ties, foundations, and homes for our young to continue ourselves; humans show love through food and housing for our offspring. This behaviour is what makes Bees an optimal model for our discussion with Indigenous sovereignty; close interactions and livelihoods of Bees to both nomadic and sedentary Indigenous people exudes comradery since it is integral to maintaining integral landscapes regardless of context. Bees reveal an intergenerational way of living that is reflected in the human, especially Indigenous peoples. Indigenous communities hunt, farm, gather, and otherwise procure food, clothing, and medicine to sustain life of offspring, elders, and ourselves. We (humans) could even be regarded as visitors (for nomadic) or tenants (for sedentary) of Bee’s Lands, with resources either directly (nesting habitats, habitat gradations, etc.) or indirectly (nutrients, transport, etc.) provided to our Bee stewards. Oral stories, legends, histories, and practical teaching and learning are how the knowledges are passed down from generation to generation. Experience and interpersonal relationships are not limited to humans; when members die, regardless of species, life is honoured. Through kinship and death, both a foundational wisdom (WBK) and supplementary information (IBK) are transferred (Nakagawa 2020). Bees, humans, and Lands are all in an interactive, iterative relationship that must be acknowledged for their complex environment.

It is estimated that 87.5% of all flowering species are pollinated by Bees (Ollerton et al. 2011), with 70 out of the top 100 crops relying on Bee labour for production; there could be more or less, but unfortunately we are unable to talk to our pollinating colleagues. Unlike wild ecology in which multiple plant species support varying levels of host–plant specialization and generalization, agricultural fields are managed to only have one or few plant species present in the field, removing all ecological niches that are required by Bee specialists and some generalists (Jha and Dick 2010; Grab et al. 2019; Wood et al. 2019). The type of agricultural production changes pollen availability to Bees as well, e.g., organic fields having greater diversity and density of weedy plant species present, therefore greater variance in blooming time and pollen proteins for Bees to select (Hyvönen et al. 2003). This does not mean that human agricultural expansion only restricts Bees; expansion of squash⁹ farming across North America led to the spread of the squash bee¹⁰ from Mesoamerica. It should be noted that squash Bee’s movement was not in one largescale migration; gradual expansion through Indigenous North American trade systems resulted in an adaptation-domestication cycle. This is not the case for the current industrialized agricultural practices, which have eliminated many forms of the native shrubbery and plant life that bordered the edges of the fields, resulting in decreased Bee populations (Löpez-Uribe et al. 2016; Wood et al. 2019).Through the Columbian exchange¹¹, much of the landscape was converted because cattle and pigs were released on Terra nullius due to Iberian settlement policy (Crosby 2003; Steeves 2021).

Bees provision mass pollen loads for their offspring development from nearby floral resources (Michener 2000; Olsson et al. 2008); however, not any pollen will do. Similar to humans, pollen specialization¹² of Bees varies across taxon ranging from narrow oligolecty¹³ to polylecty¹⁴ (Wood and Roberts 2018). Varying Bee pollen diets result iterative specializing and generalizing diets of Bee phylogenies over centuries (Müller 1996; Müller and Kuhlmann 2008); seven families of Bees have been described across the world¹⁵ (Michener 2000). Bee diet adaptation, however, have energetic costs required to overcome the pollen defences; polylectic Bees sacrifice energy from their own progeny to overcome pollen defences (Müller 1996; Müller and Kuhlmann 2008). However, when Bees specialize on a specific host-group they have unfettered reproduction only limited by pollen availablility (Müller 1996). This tug-of-rope context of pollen, viewed as either a Bee food or plant gametes, demonstrates the perspective is variant; anthropocentrism would miss such battles if we merely focused on the human benefits of Bees. A Bees framework of existence then is inherent to pollen as food, which in turn must compete with pollen as gametes; even the gametes must be consumable to ensure that Bees continue to pollinate for future generations. The interaction between food, place, space, and time has resulted in a wide distribution and diversity of Bees internationally; ancestral lineages and “decisions” develop through an iterative dynamic.

Bees require an area to nest for rearing their young; the space and time investment for pollen collection requires a place to rear the young. Both humans and Bees develop a home for the offspring rearing; nomadic peoples establish portable housing while sedentary peoples establish permanent housing. Bee nesting behaviours vary across the five most diverse Bee families but fall into three broad groups; ground nesting¹⁶, stem nesting¹⁷, and social grouping¹⁸ (Michener 2000). Most Bees are ground and stem nesting solitary Bees; however, some have social and labour stratification such as basic eusociality¹⁹ and eusocial honey bees²⁰ (Michener 2000; Breed 1975). In tandem with the associated pollen, nesting in landscapes provides a refuge for Bees to rear young, overwinter harsh or resourceless times, and store food. We can state that, in the context of the life histories of Bees, identity changes in the framework with the surrounding environment; methods of survival and existences permute infinitely. Pollen and lands are the raw material of existence of Bees, yet it is viewed as a commodity rather than an necessity; IFS questions whether or not something so essential should be commodified, but we shall cover that later on.

Bees and Indigenous communities are frequently found to co-habit the same territories creating a mutualistic relationship, with Indigenous management practices providing diverse habitat and Bees providing pollination services and food products that can be extracted (Athayde et al. 2016; Magaña-Ortiz et al. 2016; Asian 2015); Indigenous land management develop habitat niches for Bees and other beings through fire, terracing, rock walls, and irrigation systems that are implemented (Samson and Knopf 1994; Morris 2004; Preece et al. 2016; Burkle et al. 2019). Indigenous territories frequently have high biodiversity or unique ecosystems; many Indigenous and local peoples interact within these biodiverse refuges (Toledo 1999; Woinarski et al. 2015). Toledo (1999) best describes this observation as a cross over between biodiversity and cultural “hotspots”, housing both a large portion of the world’s Indigenous communities and species (i.e., the Amazonia); we view this less as a crossover of hotspots but rather a reciprocal interaction, one that builds from the lineages of Bees, humans, and the soil itself. This interaction is seen with Athayde et al. (2016) in that honey collected from stingless Bees²¹ and the newly-introduced Africanised? honey bee²² are both used for nutritional and medicinal purposes for four separate Indigenous communities within the Amazon. Specific species were found to be used for specific purposes; e.g., Apis mellifera honey was commonly eaten by the community for nutritional benefits, but some Meliponini honey was only to be eaten by elders and sick individuals by community rule (Athayde et al. 2016). Morris (2004) documented that both the Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities in Malawi rely heavily on the honey of the African honey Bee²³, mining Bee²⁴, and mopane Bee²⁵ for food sustenance. Reliance on Bee products by Indigenous communities has meant that communities have developed a variety of traditional beekeeping techniques for both Meliponine and honey Bees; many gathering strategies are still used within Malawi, Indonesia, Yucatán, Brazil, etc. (Morris 2004; Hall 2006; Athayde et al. 2016; Magaña-Ortiz et al. 2016).

However, the impacts of colonialism upon Indigenous communities have changed the diversity of agricultural and cultural practices impacting land management and knowledge transfer (Morris 2004; Magaña-Ortiz et al. 2016; Athayde et al. 2016; Koch et al. 2019). Colonizer communities and their practices have resulted in largescale habitat loss, impacting Bee communities (Scheper et al. 2014; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019). Attempts to protect landscape conversions usually result in the ignorance or removal of Indigenous peoples from their ancestrally foraged or cultivated territories (Ehrenfeld 2003; Borras Jr. et al. 2015; Preece et al. 2016). Wood et al. (2019) found that from the time periods of pre- and post-2000, 6 out of 12 Bombus species populations have declined by ∼50%, with the declining Bombus harvesting pollen from fewer plant species. Similarly, Magnacca (2006) found that out of the 60 native Hawai’i Bees, Hylaeus (Subgenus Nesoprosopis) Fabricius, 5 species were not present while another 7 were restricted to endangered habitats from 1999 to 2002 when compared to pre-1964 Bee collections. Both Wood et al. (2019) and Magnacca (2006) state that the causes are (1) agricultural and urban intensification and (2) the lack of protection for native ecosystems resulting in greater habitat loss; Magnacca (2006) also noted the introduction of alien species to Hawai’i from European contact. Here, with science-oriented papers that focus on Bees, we can see that there is a relationship between Indigenous territory loss and Bee diversity; although independent of a social analysis of Bee losses, the relationships regarding Indigenous sovereignty and Bees (and many other organisms, for that matter) are relevant. Many threatened Indigenous territories are some of the remaining sanctuaries for Bee diversity, preserving and maintaining habitat niches required for Bee development (Magnacca 2006; Athayde et al. 2016; Magaña-Ortiz et al. 2016); many policies designed for a preservationist approach to Bee conservation disenfranchises Indigenous communities with sub-optimal outcomes.

A majority of biodiverse Indigenous territories, claimed to be “uninhabited” or “unoccupied” by states, have high risk of extinction and extirpation due to landscapes changes and alien species introduction from colonization; largescale extinctions are already occurring in Australia and central Africa (Morris 2004; Woinarski et al. 2015; Preece et al. 2016). Jurisdiction and policies enforced by the colonizer or resourced empower the resourced and exploit the resourcing²⁶ while international organizations made up of nations vote on its economic good. This is not just the issue of a lack of policies, but also policies that distort who the land is being protected from; policy intentions (i.e., ecosystem services evaluation and policies) may be to protect it from industrialization, but in practice may limit Indigenous interactions with land that have actively maintained ecosystems. Sugarcane and cotton, for instance, were two dominant crops that drove imperial powers to colonize the Americas and enslaved thousands of Indigenous west coast Africans for sweet teas and treats and cheap handkerchiefs for continental Europe (Mintz 1985; Beckert 2015). The emancipation of enslaved Indigenous Africans was debated over the labour shortage that would create a vacuum in cotton production internationally, not the inhumanity; many governments debated the recognition of the confederacy to maintain cheap cotton supplies (Beckert 2015). Even white rice production of southern states of Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina were TEK’s exploited from Indigenous west Africans who traditionally cultivated African Rice (Oryza glaberrima Steud.); rice-producing Indigenous west Africans were predominantely enslaved for their knowledge and experience (Carney 2001). Asian Rice stolen from Vietnam (then French Indochina) and levees and production systems by enslaved Indigenous west Africans were credited to white enslavers, with TEK stolen from multiple different Indigenous peoples (Carney 2001).

Indigenous people live in a variety of environments on the globe, interacting and learning with food and resources necessary for survival from a variety of different ecosystems (McNeely 1994; Gepts and Papa 2002); these intimate relations are still seen today. Some Indigenous communities continue to practice their food sovereignty (definition by La Via Campesina 2007), maintaining genetic diversity within ancestral crops and animals (Gepts and Papa 2002; Diamond 2002); many colonized states attempt to remove the ability to practice food sovereignty. Indigenous communities are usually (1) forced to inhabit unproductive land²⁷ that cannot sustain or produce animal or crop production/hunting practices, and (2) subject to colonial and global policies that benefit for-profit, mono-cropped capitalist systems that have decimated sovereign animal and crop varieties (Samson and Knopf 1994; Sánchez-Bayo and Wyckhuys 2019). An example is the usurpation of waterways rights of the Anishinaabeg²⁸ to produce power and bleached paper for white settler communities via damming and mercury bleaching. The decimation of waterways within reserves resulted in the loss of food sovereignty and security for Treaty 3 Anishinaabeg peoples and exposed them to mercury poisoning, emigration, and destruction of traditional lands (Bendickson 2019; Luby 2020). Through crown corporations, local ordinances, and federal regulations, water rights once enshrined in Treaty 3 were actively revoked and removed from local Anishinaabeg; in finality, IFS was undermined by the reduction in manoomin²⁹ and Lake Sturgeon³⁰ populations by crown industries (Bendickson 2019; Luby 2020). When Indigenous management techniques are allowed on Indigenous territories or on former territories that are now state/privately controlled, the quality of services and products produced from lands have increased (Morris 2004; Borras Jr. et al. 2015). The inclusion of and consultation with Indigenous communities for their TEK not only allows for greater sustainability in agricultural, forestry, and industrial practices, but also increases the ecosystem services and habitat refuges of Bees and other organisms (Steffan-Dewenter and Tscharntke 1997, 2001; Morris 2004; Athayde et al. 2016).

Land, and life on land, is commodified and capitalized by sponsor states for the greater “good” (therefore majority) instead of critically and ethically maintaining familial territories. Restrictions imposed upon by states and private enterprises on Indigenous communities resulted in the prevention hunting and farming practices, the usurpation of resources from colonial resourced states and capitalist ventures, and the contamination of ancestral waters and lands for resource extraction, many Indigenous and Bee communities are unable to maintain IFS (Baer-Nawrocka and Sadowiski 2019; Koch et al. 2019; Wood et al. 2019).Inherent rights, such as treaty rights, must be respected; however, we must note that many Indigneous communities internationally do not have a right to access traditional resources under current colonial governments. We therefore introduce a new concept to utilize in tandem with IFS for scientists to begin: Pollen Sovereignty (PS). As in the case reduced PS, many Indigenous communities are unable to maintain traditional hunting and farming practices for sovereign crops and animals, thereby reducing their food sovereignty (Fakhri 2018; Baer-Nawrocka and Sadowiski 2019).

PS is the right of Bees to access pollen and territory that they are endemic to; Bees labour is not viewed just as a ecosystem service in agriculture but rather the inherent right of the Bees to maintain their independence from global economies by continuing their livelihoods in nesting, pollen collecting, and any other necessity that we humans cannot understand. PS is not being introduced just for Bees, but rather used as a symbolic concept for any organism that is or can be threatened by exploitation via inclusion in global economies for their “ecosystem services”. PS is intended to be an interactive or additional framework by both scientists and IFS theoretical framework itself; understanding that access to land and the ability to be independent of states are part of the theoretical frameworks of PS and IFS for Bees and Indigenous peoples, respectively.

Regardless of who we are, there is a connection to our ancestors; all lives, as is stated in introductory biology classes, stem from one ancestor. Both human and non-human consume nitrogen from predecessors to live today, either through predation or uptake; there is always a link between the dead and the living mediated by the environment. Even atoms weather, degrade, and react in a continuous cycle. Logically speaking, there is no separation of organic and inorganic or living and non-living; simply put, quotidian divides have dislocated simple, universal concepts through scientific terms. Every cubic centimetre of soil, water, and air is different from one another and to every atom, molecule, gene, and individual across a species; there is, in actuality, an assumption of “identical” when conducting research. This system was not taught to us by formal education systems; we learned this from ancestors and family, knowledge passed down through stories, teachings, and lessons the traditional forms of WBK (Nakagawa 2008). Bees, who may or may not be consciously aware of the connection nitrogen and protein, acquire this same form of knowledge by being fed the pollen proteins collected then transferring protein between plants to pollinate and produce the next generation for future offspring, Bee or plant (Müller 1996; Nakagawa 2020).Even parasitic cuckoo Bees select and adapt to the proteins that are selected by their parents, just with a focus on exploiting another Bees labour. So the saying goes, we are what we eat; when we eat food grown on the land our ancestors were buried in, we consume their wisdom, spirits, and proteins and carry them within us, implanted mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Land is a concept scientists usually separate from beings; are they truly separate though? If it is understood in the sciences that there are a multitude of interactions between non-living and living spaces within the same environment. We would like to clarify that this does not mean that science is simple or that processes are simple; what we are attempting to bring to light here is to simplify explanations by describing that all systems follow base mechanisms (e.g., air flow from pressure/temperature gradients; Bee flight times and ability) that drive their environmental fates (e.g., wind direction and speed impacts Bee pollination). What makes science complicated is the desire to remove “noise” or unnecessary variables that may feed into improper or non-factual conclusions; correlation is not causation, as the saying goes. As science intends to continue research built up by their predecessors, sometimes the need to describe simple systems or discuss simple interactions is required for understanding the environment.

Nakagawa (2021) talks simple science, explaining that the mineral components of our bodies never disappear; the spirits that once utilized the protein neither live nor die, but rather are passed down generation to generation, assuming many consumable forms. Because we cannot communicate with the elements that make up our world does not mean they do not have will; as we unpack anthropocentric ideas about the state of animals and plants as academics seeking to decolonize our thinking, we cannot conclude the absence of sentience due to the limits of human observation. Simple is used not to undermine the complexity within the environment, but rather complexity is birthed from the infinite simple interactions in the environment. Due to the scientific disciplines determining their own agendas, a siphoning effect occurs; specialization and “niche” building are the only requirements for research, with less emphasis on simple explanations or discussions. In this context, niche is not actually a niche in which organisms play roles that they evolved into; we bind ourselves within silos that continuously become scrutinous, specific, and labyrinthine to understand. Even definitions given to such quotidian and siloed divides within the sciences themselves vary across fields. An “organic” production system an agronomist studies is different from an “organic” reaction a chemist studies; in this definition there is confusion since organic molecules can be non-living networks, while inorganic molecules are present in living beings. Though we develop quotidian divides to “simplify” research, we have developed a system that functions in disjunction with one another due to the lack of consideration that fields arbitrarily bind in structure.

Colonizer–colonized or resourced–resourcing relations constitute a multi-layered power dynamic that is consistently morphing into different expectations and reality (Kouritzin and Nakagawa 2018). Many of the impacts that colonizer communities have had upon Indigenous communities are present to this day, with evidence of genocide and oppression of Indigenous communities are written in history books as well as encoded in oral stories shared by elders and ancestors (Tuhiwai Smith 2012). There is a confluence between the diversity of language, culture, and land management of Indigenous peoples and diversity, sociality, and niche formation of Bees. Colonial forces, through preservation or saviourism, demand oral languages be written down in a dominant alphabetical form (usually penned in the Roman alphabet and Romantic or Germanic language), removing the interpersonal communication that maintains community (Said 1979); through capitalist ideals, the removal of floral diversity for colonial practices remove the sovereign identities of Indigenous peoples (Bendickson 2019). Through colonial enforcement, Bees must ether adapt to feed on and communicate about these changed crops, or be removed from society through extinction due to their irrelevance to global economic demand (Ehrenfeld 2003; Magnacca 2006; Nakagawa 2013). Tradition and culture are stripped for capitalistic ideals while only the most generalist Bees can remain within the changed environment (Kuusari et al. 2011; Scheper et al. 2014; Wood and Roberts 2017; Wood et al. 2019); the removal of food sovereignty and Lands changes the greater landscape due to gradual erasure of Indigenous management. As land rights are stripped and commodified from Indigenous peoples, settler land management changes Bee diversity, morphing traditional land into another Being who is unknown to themself (Nakagawa 2013; Borras Jr. et al. 2015). However, there begins a new question in this discussion; why are the capitalist ideals still going if they are causing such harm to Indigenous peoples and the environment.

Formal educational institutions such as primary, secondary, and tertiary education systems are often considered the saviour of humanity; however, Schooling the World: White Man’s Last Burden (2010) shows that it is often the most successful colonizer. Currently, attempts to “indigenize” education often focus on merely facts attained through IBK and lack the foundational WBK passed down by Indigenous ancestors themselves (Nakagawa 2017, 2021); we deliberately do not capitalize indigenize since it is a gesture when conducted by the colonial structures (such as schools) that frequently usurp the meaning for self-aggrandizing purposes³¹. Freire’s (1970)Pedagogy of the Oppressed describes that colonial education is not focused on critical thinking and discourse but rather maintains that the oppressed remain beneath the oppressor; it is not about the WBK, just the IBK. To truly educate, there requires a foundation of WBK with IBK; simple and logical concepts are explained with a plethora of tongues that merely narrate the specific reality without amalgamating a coherent chronicle. Even in the sentence that we just wrote, there is a simpler discussion hidden within the thesaurus-consulted words; we emphasize fact-learning rather than critical thinking and wisdom. Current formal education systems are built upon the foundations of colonization, in which information is taught while wisdoms are not (Nakagawa 2017). WBK can only be taught by those who live it, the elders and the Lands, regardless of where that knowledge comes from (a Bee or an Indigenous Person); the only way to acquire an “Indigenous education” is to not institutionalize it, but rather to live it (Nakagawa 2011). Protecting Indigenous territories is not only protecting the actual Lands, but also recognizing Indigenous knowledges as valid knowledges instead of “integrating” via colonizing knowledges into the information-based education systems (Nakagawa 2008, 2011).

Are we truly educating students, whether primary, secondary, or tertiary, or are we maintaining current labour requirements as in the industrial revolution (McDermott 2001)? A majority of the education systems today are focused on a knowledge-based framework that is focused on the regurgitation of fact rather than a desire for learning; declarations of “fairness” are still within standardized and homogenized systems, but is it truly fair? For instance, PN remembers her first year biology courses in university were all taught by video lecture on repeat to “maintain equal opportunities for all students”; the wisdom of the instructor was forgone for the consistency of facts. Students in PN’s class actively discussed the mundaneness and isolation of the experience; it was, in essence, a factory to produce students that were standard to form, not an educational experience. State-mandated primary and secondary schools enforce attendance³², which is of greater concern to the state than the development of life-long learning; experiential learning, contrasting values, and fundamental concepts are removed from the classroom to institute policies that develop a larger labour force (Hall 2006; McDermott 2001). Regardless of background, opportunities to interact with poly-dimensional truths are required; the two-dimensional truths of pen and paper do not recognize the true meaning behind the hoe and seedbed. Indigenous peoples understand the necessity of poly-dimensional truths; time spent with peers, youngers, and elders of all ages along with the freedom to question institutional authorities, both within and outside education circles, allows for perspective and WBK.

Separate from education, Indigenous identity is tied to sacredness of land, death, and the infinite cycles it goes through; we can live life without colonial education, but we cannot live without food and the inherent IBK and WBK associated with food production. Every Indigenous community will have their own reasons for the sacredness of land, food, and waters; there is a meaning and history to sacredness that is conceptualized by Indigenous communities. This point is likely true for Bees as well, understanding that habitat quality and pollen resources are sacred material to Bees who forage them. A shared reason to value Lands as sacred is that plants are nourished by the land and waters, Bees pollinate plants creating seeds, producing more plants. Bees use the pollen to create the next generation humans can plant, care for the environment to facilitate these processes, and also benefit from the plants and Bees. This might be an anthropocentric view of the benefit humans are to Bees and plants; there is likely something that is out of our perception that is common sense to the other beings.

We discuss the ethical ramifications of and perspectives on research as viewed by Indigenous peoples; we hope to provide some future directions regarding what scientists can begin to do. We also would like to make suggestions about what other scientists, including social scientists, can do to begin to critically engage in discussions surrounding research, environment, and identity. Small changes can be to just leave small offerings post-sampling or collection; it can be just the action of leaving some fruit or food for the land if one removes insects from it. Legislative and judicial systems should begin to remove the pure anthropocentric lens of “rights”, “duties”, and “responsibilities” of the law to only humans and human-controlled/created entities; although corporation and government are considered entities in legal contexts, the environment, biota, and physical spaces are still considered “resources”. Currently, there are efforts to give rights to non-human beings, especially rivers and their watersheds, to either prevent further exploitation or to enact previous treaties (Cano Pecharroman 2018; O'Donnell and Talbot 2018; Macpherson 2020). If a river can attain rights, then it follows that other beings are also entitled; if this is the case, then the questions for scientists include whether we focus on the terrestrial or aquatic basins. We must also consider whether the biota, such as Bees, may also have rights enshrined in law. Although these are questions and answers we need to address, it is only a portion of the challenges; a question that should be considered is whether our legal system is even sustainable anymore. Again, this is from a completely western and anthropocentric ideology; we recommend researchers to being thinking for themselves; who are you and what is your role are good places to begin.

There needs to be conversations about how research with Indigenous peoples and territories are conducted, with specific regard to oral languages and ethics. Athayde et al. (2016) and Morris (2004) acknowledged language and societal barriers present between academics and Indigenous communities, with communication becoming difficult since some of the dialogue between did not (1) have direct translations of specific concepts between the Indigenous elders and academics, and (2) some academics did not, or chose not to, understand the power relations, or the lack thereof, of academics within Indigenous communities.However, for researchers in the field at this moment, what should we do? What future directions should ecologists and biologists look for in their own research and practices? Simply put, we must critically assess our research practices; do we need to have the lowest taxonomic levels identified from collected specimens, or are we able to conduct the same research with observations and counts? Are we assessing ecosystems for “agroecosystem efficiency”, “total effects from industry/government”, or just to “observe natural phenomenon”? Are we doing research that will directly impact Indigenous communities or will the results not have any effect? Most importantly, are we consulting, considering, and including Indigenous communities in our research. Although these may seem overwhelming, there is much more to lose if we do not consider the perspectives and livelihoods of Indigenous peoples. Grassy Narrows still has mercury in its water; Ryukyuans are still unrecognized by Japan; Hawai’i is still occupied by settlers and tourists; and Indigenous peoples in the Amazon are still being driven out by mining, logging, and farming. Therefore, it is up to us, the ecologists, biologists, and scientists, to begin to understand PS is already within our frames of reference; we just need now mobilize it. Perspectives and solutions cannot be put in place until ongoing harmful incentives for industry coupled with the gaslighting of Indigenous communities and de-legitimation of their perspectives are brought to an end. It is once the actively toxic policies and actions are removed that steps toward a solution can be crafted.

We thank our ancestors, elders, and family for their guidance, love, and fight to allow us to be here today.