Níksókowaawák as Axiom: The Indispensability of Comprehensive Relational Animacy in Blackfoot Ways of Knowing, Being, and Doing

Abstract

This paper outlines a proposal, based on Blackfoot worldview, for a collective method to stand alongside Western qualitative and quantitative methods and highlights the value of collective methods in collaborative social-ecological research. Neither qualitative nor quantitative methods are adequate to disclose a world where all things are alive, where “objects” are subjects—agentive beings in their own right. Most Indigenous cultures understand and experience the world as a network of living beings, a collective, with whom they are interrelated/connected and therefore, any efforts to collaborate with Indigenous peoples must acknowledge comprehensive relational animacy. Applying coproduction principles in concert with Blackfoot ways of knowing and being, the authors collaborate to articulate and advance a collective method wherein the many and diverse collective methods of Blackfoot and other Indigenous peoples might find quarter.

Keywords:

• Coproduction
• Indigenous knowledge
• methodology
• ontological turn

Introduction

[T]he only way you’re gonna connect with our culture is through Spirit, that’s our way…. That’s the things my people know. Everything we believe [know] comes through the heart, that’s why we treat everyone and everything with respect, we honor everything, because we believe everything has a spirit… this is our way, this is what the old people taught me. (Kainai¹ Elder, Miiniipokaa [Berry Child]/Weasel Moccasin January 29, 2021)

For most Indigenous or Native² peoples worldwide, the belief that everything in the natural world is alive and interrelated is understood and experienced to be true and self-evident (Blaser and De La Cadena 2018; Belanger and Hanrahan 2020; Little Bear 2011; UN 2012; Deloria 1999). This belief in relational animacy is insufficiently addressed by Western science (Belanger and Hanrahan 2020; Bruised Head 2022; Little Bear 2011; UNESCO and ICSU 2000; Villalpando as quoted in Hernandez 2022, i), even science designed to consider Native knowledge (Hernandez 2022; Wilson 2008). To more accurately understand and engage with Indigenous knowledge, we acknowledge this method for knowing the world to be axiomatic (true and self-evident). Rather than scrutinize the validity of such beliefs through a Western academic lens, we aim to collectively describe and establish the merits and utility of níksókowaawák method (and its generalized form, the collective method) for disclosing and interacting with social-ecological systems³ in more equitable, ethical, and holistic ways.

Two recent trends in human-environment studies are, incorporating traditional ecological knowledge/Indigenous ecological knowledge (TEK)/(IEK) (Albuquerque et al. 2021; Nelson and Shilling 2018) and engaging with stakeholders in coproduced research (Djenontin and Meadow 2018; Moran and Lopez 2016). We submit that genuine consideration of TEK/IEK requires scientists engaged in coproduction to understand—or at the very least, to recognize and respect—how Indigenous ontologies and epistemologies may be incompatible with standard approaches to social science and environmental science, which are not adequate to elucidate Indigenous worldviews. Positivistic (and therefore many quantitative) methods seek to separate the observer from the observed in pursuit of an unachievable notion of objectivity. And even though post-positivistic and critical qualitative literature and methods address and allow for reflexivity and subjectivity, and begin to recognize the agency of the objects of research (Burkhart 2019; Wilson 2008), many Indigenous scholars feel that the intersubjectivity still falls far short of traditional notions of relationality present in Indigenous ways of thinking, knowing, living, and being (Bastien 2004; Hernandez 2022; Kimmerer 2013; Little Bear 2011; Wilson 2008).

Despite the “ontological turn” in anthropology (Blaser and De La Cadena 2018; Nadasdy 1999; Viveiros de Castro 2015), political ecology (Belanger and Hanrahan 2020; Carolan 2004; Goldman, Turner, and Daly 2018), human geography (Hinchliffe 2007; Robertson 2016), and the many Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars who acknowledge plural or alternative ontologies, research on relational animacy in Western scholarship has been confined within the ethnocentric epistemological parameters of qualitative, quantitative, and mixed methods, as defined in contemporary social science (Belanger and Hanrahan 2020). Although the literature on environmental and epistemic justice highlights the importance of TEK/IEK in transforming knowledge production and understanding the ontological roots of environmental conflicts, in practice when scientists collaborate with Indigenous peoples, TEK/IEK often gets integrated into existing knowledge frameworks as data (Cruikshank 2012, 239). Blaser (2009) suggests this is partly due to recent funding trends which privilege knowledge deemed useful and “influence how [I]ndigenous knowledge is… defined and translated in discrete packages as ‘informational inputs’” (Blaser 2009). When this happens, distinct holistic knowledge systems are often dismembered (mined for their most “useful” recurring elements), coded, and generalized as pan-Indian/pan-Indigenous knowledge. Dynamic elements are dismissed as many Western researchers miss the “greater knowledge value, especially the possibility of surprises [that] come from unfamiliar oral accounts [stories] that do not seem to fit easily within conventional frameworks” (Blaser 2009), not to mention the harm integration exercises can cause Indigenous people and Nations.

Therefore, given the predominance of Native cultures who understand and experience the world as a collective of living beings with whom they are connected and related, we contend that efforts to collaborate with Native peoples must acknowledge comprehensive relational animacy. Indigenous peoples should not be obliged to use inadequate and ethnocentric Western frameworks to share ancestral knowledge that offers critical insights into vexing problems in every sphere of activity and knowledge from ecosystems to economics, recreation, physics, farming, ethics, well-being, and so on. Applying coproduction methods together with Ai’stomatoominniki⁴ (embodying knowledge), we collaborated to articulate and advance the collective methods of many Native peoples. While recent scholarship tries to create spaces for Indigenous methods within Western analytical frameworks, we submit that Indigenous methods can only be effectively conceptualized and actualized from within distinctly Indigenous frameworks. These ostensible incompatibilities between Western and Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and doing can be illustrated by Niitsitapi, or Blackfoot discourse. In the words of Kainai Elder and scholar, Ninna Piiksii (Chief Bird)/Bruised Head Bruised Head (2022):

Blackfoot knowledge entails how we do things and what it’s based on; it’s almost the expression of everyday experience. This experience comes with language, song and ceremony. We believe all is animate; in the Blackfoot world, everything is interrelated. This interrelationship begins from our Creation stories, and how we come about the knowledge from our Creation stories and legends. Our source of knowledge derives from Niitsipowahsin, our language. The collective relationships of how the Blackfoot people survived and the protocols they followed are all transferred orally, from the thousands if not millions of generations: the oral transfer of Blackfoot knowledge.

In the next section, we present Niitsitapi worldview as a storied and embodied process. Following, we present a literature review on why Indigenizing science is important and cannot be conducted with current Western scientific approaches. Then, we present our methodological practice for acknowledging and developing the collective method. We then describe the collective method and distinguish it from existing Western scientific approaches. This paper concludes with a discussion of the potential impacts that the collective method approach can have on Indigenizing social-environmental relations by understanding the ontological dimensions of environmental conservation and conflict.

Niitsitapi Worldview

“Blackfoot ways are embodied in Tipi”⁵ (Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head February 22, 2020). “The whole universe is right there” (Amsskaapipiikáni Elder, John Murray March 10, 2022). Niitoyiss (painted tipis) establish, enact, and make manifest human connections to níksókowaawák,⁶ “all my relatives” in Blackfoot, referring to both one’s human and non-human relatives. The top presents and represents spomitapiiksi (sky beings), which are atmospheric and cosmic relatives; “the middle is our power” (Murray 2022), naatoyitapiiksi (a spirit animal “who has given the people access to his powers to help them in their lives” [Glenbow 2013, 26]); and the bottom, ksahkomitapiiksi (earth beings) and soyiitapiiksi (water beings) which often signifies the part of Niitsitapi territory where the design was given to an individual through a dream or transferred from elder relatives. In this way, Niitsitapi traditional places of dwelling are sacred bundles⁷ gifted with real properties that (like other sacred bundles) bring protection, knowledge, and balance by “chang[ing] the energy and creat[ing] new realities” (Piikani Elder, Aakaomo’tsstaki [Many Victories]/Provost February 27, 2021). Tipis are sacred spaces where daily experiences are understood through and influenced by dreams and ceremony. “We create an environment [e.g., fire, trills, pipes, prayer, songs, taamatosim (smudge)⁸] where bundles can change energy… We literally co-create reality with the cosmos… We must have a reverence for that energy” (Aakaomo’tsstaki [Many Victories]/Provost February 27, 2021).

Tipis also manifest the balance and relationship between things that are patterned and things that are rare in the world. “Things that repeat [like the patterns on tipis] are almost like laws, foundational points that are real for us and have deep meaning… things that only happen once, like a [tipi transfer] song,⁹ are also significant” (Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head February 22, 2020) (Figure 1).

Figure 1. A Child’s Lodge – Piegan c1926, Blackfoot Tipis, c1926, Kainai Tipi c1927. (Photographs: Edward Curtis. Public Domain.).

Kainai Elder, Frank Weasel Head, explains níksókowaawák method this way, “We teach our culture through stories. Everything has a life and a story” (as quoted in Glenbow 2013, 22). Piikani Elder, Peter Strikes with a Gun adds:

[S]tories, these are the laws. They are not written down. The way the stories go, the one who told the story helps us to know ahead of time. That is the way with our bundles. Why we don’t make mistakes. They all have stories. The same for all the songs. We are all relatives to the things that fly around, the water people, the ground people, we are all related to these things. The songs came from them and they are transferable, [Etsik pumaksin, passed on through ceremony]. (as quoted in Raczka 2017, v)

Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head (February 22, 2020) repeats the significance of stories and their role in Native science:

[Our] stories are laws. Belief¹⁰ is beyond theory… [Western] science is based on theories and experiments and the theories keep changing. Our ways are based on stories that have not changed since time immemorial, stories that help us renew sacred alliances with níksókowaawák through experiences as we trust in spirit and grow in kinship and understanding.

These foundational beliefs are the nexus in which theory, knowledge, interpretation manifests and are therefore considered more reliable than knowing something through “rational” thought and basic senses alone. Aistomatoominniki/aistommatop (Blackfoot epistemology/coming to know your heart/embodying knowledge) upholds that the purest knowledge requires non-empirical sensibilities to detect. Niitsitapi believe ceremony and renewal of relationships with níksókowaawák develop these refined sensibilities in important ways that Western education cannot or does not.

Indigenizing Science

Since the “Enlightenment,” for a variety of complex reasons, from ethnocentrism to rationalizing colonial expansion (Vinyeta 2021) and more, Niitsitapi and other Indigenous worldviews have been seen as primitive or rudimentary. While this notion has in recent decades relented to a genuine appreciation for what are now recognized to be rather complex, robust onto-epistemologies (Kimmerer 2013; Little Bear 2011; Maffie 2014; Peat 2005), Western scholars continue to address Native perspectives within the framework of Western constructs and from a Western point of reference. For example, even in the process of mitigating the negative consequences of colonization and residential schools on Blackfoot ways of knowing, being, and doing, one most often speaks in terms of “decolonizing” education rather than “Indigenizing” education. Although decolonization is used by many Indigenous scholars and activists to promote their civil and sovereign rights, within Western institutions/agencies, decolonization in recent years has often come to mean diversity, equality, and inclusion (DEI) and frequently focusses on “making room for” Indigenous knowledges within existing Western frameworks which are still considered the standard or norm. Indigenization, however, normalizes Native ontologies, epistemologies, pedagogies, and methodologies by acknowledging plural/alternative knowledge systems in nonhierarchical ways (Battiste 2004, 2013; Cajete 1994; Kovach 2010; Smith 2012; Wilson 2008). Battiste (2013) incorporates Indigenization into her definition of decolonization contending that decolonization is a two-pronged process that requires both (1) the “deconstruction” of colonial perspectives as privileged and neutral “exposing the political, moral, and theoretical inadequacies of colonialism and culturalism” (Battiste 2004, 1); and (2) the “reconstruction” of marginalized Indigenous perspectives as being established and reliable. For example, considering níksókowaawák and other Indigenous perspectives to be axiomatic, is Indigenizing as it normalizes Indigenous knowledge for its own purposes and it is decolonizing as it challenges the neutrality of Western science.

However, most often, when Blackfoot culture is engaged by other disciplines, one sees Western classifications like Blackfoot philosophy, Blackfoot ecology, and Blackfoot physics—in other words, Blackfoot culture through the splintered and distorted lens of philosophy, ecology, and physics or Blackfoot culture as it relates/correlates to various Western disciplines. This kind of research is important and has a decolonizing effect on these disciplines and the academy. However, to truly reconcile and repair damages done to Blackfoot (and other Indigenous) communities and territories as a result of the colonial agenda (education in particular) and move toward a more complete understanding of social-ecological systems, the academy must also be Indigenized; Western scholars must take Indigenous stories more seriously and reconsider the world with a mind unfettered, undistorted, and unfractured by Western categories and worldview. This is challenging for Western scholars to do, even when they know it’s important, even when they sincerely try. The theories, methods, and language Western scholars use to engage and explain the world are just so saturated with Western meanings and unwitting bias that to genuinely interface with Blackfoot (and other non-Western) perspectives and collaborate with any degree of equity and efficacy, Western scholars must somehow suspend their foundational Western ontological and epistemological assumptions about what it means to exist, think, feel/sense, and know.

For example, because Niitsitapi worldview and methods derive entirely from Ihtsipaitapiiyo’pa (Source of Life/Essence of All Things), an energy that generates, enlivens, and unifies everything in the universe, including their language and stories, there is no way to talk about ecological knowledge devoid of spirit and in isolation from other kinds of knowledge the way that Western methods tend to. Whether one is considering health, law, education, nutrition, biology, linguistics, hydrology, economics, sociology, chemistry, etc., Niitsitapi methods always begin with ceremony (Kainai Elder, Aahsaopi (State of Being)/First Rider 2021; Wilson 2008) i.e., song, prayer, dance, taamatosim (smudge), making offerings such as putting tobacco,¹¹ renewing relationships with níksókowaawák, in place—on the land, when possible. As such, Blackfoot “ecology” is necessarily spiritual (Aatsimmoiyihkan), collective, holistic, transdisciplinary, and experiential (both spiritual and physical experience; personal experience with níksókowaawák who constitute one’s immediate environment).

Methods

In Niitsitapi culture, cooperation, a’tsoo’tsi’kakimaan (combining our efforts) is valued over competition, and it is in this spirit of cooperation/collaboration, a’tso’tsi’kakiimatop (when everybody works on something together)¹² that the authors shared ideas. Similarly, we were guided by Meadow et al. (2015) coproduction collaborative mode of stakeholder engagement (a type of constructivist approach). The objective of the non-Native authors was to learn from stakeholders (Blackfoot Elders), who contributed as research partners and originators of the research question. In so doing, we sought to observe how these stakeholders frame the issue and to understand the terms and knowledge systems they use to interpret the issue (Meadow et al. 2015). The specific modes of collaboration we used were ethnography and action research (AR) or community-based participatory research (CBPR).

However, this project began quite organically for each of the authors. Niitsitapi Awaaáhsskataiksi (Grandparents/Elders) brought knowledge they had learned from the old people and from their years of experience living and working with the stories and language in ceremony and daily life (some also have university degrees). The non-Native authors (one of whom is Sámi American and the others of mixed settler ancestries) come from diverse disciplinary backgrounds and have dedicated much of their personal and professional lives to collaborative research and have ongoing alliances with various Indigenous and local people from Niitsitapi territory among the east-flowing watersheds of the Crown of the Continent ecosystem to Xhosa lands in South Africa to Anishinaabe territory in the Great Lakes region, Sámi territory in Scandinavia, Meso-America, Polynesia, and the rangelands of the Great Basin.

One of the authors (Atwood), a non-Native graduate student who was born and currently resides in Niitsitapi traditional territory near the Blood Reserve, was invited to participate in a twenty-person cohort (comprised predominately of Blackfoot and various other Native graduate students) to learn Niitsitapi ways of knowing, being, and doing from a dozen Niitsitapi Elders (some of whom are also academic scholars) and one Niitsitapi traditionalist and scholar. This deep learning involved nearly five hundred hours (from July 2019 to present) of place-based, in-class, virtual, and one-on-one instruction/interaction (friendship) which led to a few of the Elders encouraging her to find sokaapii¹³ (good) ways to share what she had learned.

In the process of collaborating with Niitsitapi partners, Atwood learned and adhered to Niitsitapi protocols for developing relationships of mutual respect, trust, and sharing by approaching Elders with an open mind, humility, and sikapistaanistsi¹⁴ (transfer gifts/payments which are considered “part of the ceremony, not a transaction outside of it” [Aahsaopi/First Rider February 3, 2021]). She asked for knowledge and understanding of their ways (specifically Niitsitapi “ecological” knowledge), then listened and observed intently while Elders smudged, prayed, and transferred knowledge orally, with no script. She listened respectfully for as long as the Elders wanted to gift/transfer knowledge, saving questions and comments until she was invited to share—typically after an Elder had finished speaking. Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin (April 3, 2021) shared with the cohort how he “spent countless hours to learn, a few hours, a few days, you don’t go to an Elder and say, ‘I’ve got five minutes, can you tell me…?’” There were many times the cohort expected to meet for the morning or day but the learning would continue on, well into the evening. Amsskaapipiikáni (Blackfeet) storyteller, Percy Bullchild (2005, 5) recalls his early experiences learning from the old people:

All stories were handed down from generation to generation by the mouth, in words, which the whiteman calls orally. I have listened to many wonderful stories that were told by the older men. At times, these storytellings went for several days… No one went to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and every one awoke by sunrise to resume the storytelling.

Whenever possible, the cohort traveled to specific places in Niitsitapi territory to listen to the Elders’ stories in the appropriate settings/places and to develop relationships with, and learn not only from the Elders but from place/aanoom (this very place/this very spot) also—from all our relations (Figure 2). Yellowknives Dené scholar Sean Coulthard (2014, 13) defines Native conception of land as a place-based system of reciprocal relations and obligations between humans, places, and the nonhuman entities who share the place in question. In this way, we learned about níksókowaawák from níksókowaawák as well as learning about níksókowaawák from the Elders’ teachings.

Figure 2. Blackfoot Confederacy Territory – depicting the part of North America now designated as Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Montana, where this knowledge was shared, or transferred. (Print of original artwork by Api’soomaahka [Running Coyote] William Singer III which he painted for Red Crow Community College 1993. Used with permission by the artist.).

In short, Niitsitapi Elders were approached according to tribal protocols and the entire project was not only informed by but also fundamentally shaped by their prayers, stories, songs, language, and practices, as well as their questions, concerns, and desired outcomes—i.e., a critical constructivist grounded theory (Charmaz, Denzin, and Giardina 2016, Charmaz 2017) approach of sorts; our study being grounded in Niitsitapi axioms such as comprehensive relational animacy. Some of these Elders have also overseen and participated in (as co-investigators and co-authors) the way their collective knowledge has been presented, interpreted, and utilized in this paper. It is with their consent and participation that we as a collective share this knowledge and the generalized version of Niitsitapi methods that we have articulated together for the benefit of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars, researchers, managers, and policy makers. In the generous words of Kainai Elder, Sspomikkitstaki (Sky Offering)/First Charger (February 27, 2021), “Pass on what we taught you, what we know, how to survive, how to take care of ourselves… and all our relations.” Naamaakaakomi (Going to Shoot)/Potts (March 6, 2021) elaborates on what it means to have a relationship with, and to “pass on” knowledge when he shares,

Once you have [knowledge transferred to you], you have to live with it and take care of it, work with it, keep it with you. [The spirit of the knowledge] is always with you if you’ve lived with it and worked with it [embodied it] and shared it. This is your responsibility.

In addition to the oral transfer of Native knowledge by Niitsitapi Elders, we also used library research methods to draw on other social-environmental and methods scholarship.

Identifying the Research Problem and Forming Alliances

In Niitsitapi culture, listening, Nitsiisstii (I am listening), is esteemed as one of the most important traits¹⁵ one can cultivate on the path to becoming a real person. Throughout the many hours spent listening to Niitsitapi Elders and Native graduate students, one recurring theme presented itself as a problem we might work on together: the lack of a purely Indigenous research methods category to stand alongside qualitative and quantitative categories rather than be incorporated into them. Atwood recalls one Blackfoot graduate student’s lament, “When I’m in schools it feels like our ways and ideologies don’t carry as much weight or legitimacy… In order to succeed in their spaces, we have to give up some things. They have to see that their mindset is unhealthy for us” (Crazyboy 2021). And on another occasion Crazyboy (2021) spoke about how the academy needs to relinquish its control over the knowledge enterprise, suggesting a comprehensive

transformation that applies to all agencies and structures. I find it interesting that a lot of us during our journey to our academic successes; certificates, degrees, diplomas, masters and Ph.D., we have to incur, cope and deal with a lot of trauma in these structures. Does it have to hurt this much for us to achieve our academic goals? How aspects of our identity are unacknowledged or there simply isn’t space for them. I feel as most of these traumas are from the colonial frame in which these structures are built upon, which unfortunately is an environment that doesn’t just challenge us intellectually but also actively devalues and erases our cultural identity. How often do we have to fight to have not only our voices heard but for them to understand the rationale of our choices?

Naamaakaakomi/Jerry Potts (March 6, 2021) echoes these sentiments,

Our teachings have value… but we have to fight… to have the same respect and value as [Western knowledge] … At the university level, they need to do more outreach to the Blackfoot community and collaborate more on curriculum and methods … [To us it seems the attitude is] if a white person doesn’t say it, it’s not true.

Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head (January 30, 2021 and February 22, 2020), a PhD candidate at the University of Lethbridge and residential school survivor expressed his commitment to reverse these trends—even within the language:

We need this ethical space in academia, approved and accepted in Western education… Okiskiskinimaatsa used to mean ‘left the reserve [to get educated in the Western way]’ we are changing the meaning of the word to mean ‘getting a Blackfoot education at a university.’ [and on another occasion, regarding Western pedagogies and methodologies, April 27, 2021, Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head continued,] Often you get taught with no story in the teachings, and you’ll hear stories with no teachings… I still have almost that boarding school feeling getting my PhD. I want a pure Blackfoot thought… We know what we know, from where we stand. We need entry points for Blackfoot ways. University degrees are setting me up to be a colonizer to my own people.

And Aahsaopi/Laverne First Rider (January 23, 2021), speaking for all Blackfoot people engaged in higher education and/or collaborating with outside researchers, insists, “It’s so important as Blackfoot people, that we can follow our protocols in our research.” So, this became the main focus of the authors’ work together: to articulate and advance the merits, utility, and necessity of a purely Indigenous methodological category to stand independently alongside existing Western frameworks rather than be integrated into Western categories and methods. Embodying the collective method, the authors borrowed Itsiipootsikimskai’s¹⁶ (Confluence’s) story as a template for Native and Western methods to “come together as friends” yet remain distinct (Figure 3).

Figure 3. Where the Belly River and the Old Man River become friends (Google Earth aerial photograph. Open source.).

Red Crow Community College, the first tribal college established in Canada, is located on the Blood Tribe Reserve. For over thirty years, the college has acknowledged and encouraged students to embrace, the distinct traditional methods of their ancestors while also acknowledging Western methods and thus it seems fitting that they would instigate the extension of this model to Western academic institutions. The Western academy has been the “gatekeeper” of knowledge for centuries but Siksika ceremonial knowledge keeper, Kayiihtsipimiohkitop (Riding A Painted Horse)/Ayoungman (April 4, 2021) reminds us of a parallel story of Blackfoot knowledge keepers who go way back, stating “That’s why our people were fierce, they were protecting those relationships with land, cosmos, climate, that’s why we were fierce, to protect that.” Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin (April 3, 2021) speaking in regards to Blackfoot knowledge and methods, advised the cohort, “Don’t be selfish with our stories (ways) but know when the time comes to share it and I feel that time has come… people need to hear them, it’s time, I think.”

As the authors worked together toward this common goal, our hearts and minds came together in love, respect, and understanding for one another and all our relations. Cardinal and Hildebrandt (2000) talk about the sacred relationship that comes with treaties and the importance of sacred alliances to the survival of all beings in this world. Niitsitapi were a treaty people long before colonial expansion and the signing of Treaty 7 with the Canadian government in 1877. They have been making and renewing sacred alliances/treaties with one another and with all the relatives since time immemorial. This is what is meant by interrelationship with all things/beings—níksókowaawák. To understand and participate in these sacred alliances is essential to genuine coproduction with Niitsitapi (including ancestors) and the various nonhuman relatives (i.e., plants, animals, soils, rocks, mountains, valleys, water, weather, ideas, emotions, sounds, words) that inhabit their unceded lands. Indeed, the collaborative process and the intended outcomes of this study function as a treaty-like agreement/alliance between the Blackfoot and non-Native authors of this paper.

The authors recognize the landmark works of Indigenous scholars from around the world who have tirelessly carved out spaces within Western categories for Indigenous methods for decades, we honor your contributions by formalizing a decidedly and sovereignly Indigenous space (i.e., neither quantitative nor qualitative); a broad methodological category within the academy in which the diverse, plural, autonomous Indigenous methods which are already established and practiced within specific Indigenous communities can be more equitably acknowledged. We stand allied in our resolve to articulate and advance this Indigenous methodological category within Western academia, recognizing Indigenous worldviews about existence as true and self-evident; as foundational truths upon which knowledge can be constructed and developed rather than reduced to hypotheses to be falsified and deconstructed. While Western methods are designed to disclose the world in unique and important ways that often benefit humans and environments, the authors wanted Indigenous students and scholars to be able to ground their research in a formally recognized Indigenous method familiar to them and better suited to their ancestral knowledge systems without having to “fight [with Western institutions and agencies] to understand the rationale of [their] choices” (Crazyboy 2021).

The First Nations Information Governance Centre’s (FNIGC) Principles of OCAP (ownership, control, access, and possession) delineate and safeguard the relationship First Nations people have with their traditional knowledge. For example, Niitsitapi own information collectively in a similar way that Western individuals own their personal information and intellectual property. For this reason, the authors of this paper felt more comfortable publishing under a collective name. The name we took for ourselves is Itsiipootsikimskai (Two Friends Meeting).

Results

“Mixing ideologies creates dissentions (Aahsaopi/First Rider January 30, 2021).” “Knowledge is important, it’s important to get it right or it creates conflict… When you use the knowledge in a good way, it will work.” (Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin April 3, 2021).”

Unlike qualitative and quantitative methods, Blackfoot, and most Indigenous collective methods categorically entail: (1) animacy; all things/beings (human and nonhuman) are alive, agentive, and have a story—a legitimate vantage point, perspective, and positionality, (2) relationship; all things/beings (human and nonhuman) are interconnected through alliances and interrelate in collective, reciprocal, dynamic, and most often nonhierarchical ways, and (3) intuitive or spiritual awareness, alignment, analysis, and embodiment of relational knowledge gained through the initiation and renewal of sacred alliances with all human and non-human relatives and the mutual gifting of stories. Discerning knowledge in this real but nuanced way requires patience, “transfer is a process and it takes time” (Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head March 3, 2021). Examples of collective “metrics” include: the degree to which one embodies/becomes/practices knowledge; the quantity, quality, and depth of relationships; the biodiversity of species in a given area; and the general wellbeing of human and nonhuman relatives. Our project openly acknowledges not only the epistemic validity and fruitfulness but also the inimitability and autonomy of the longstanding Indigenous methodologies we are calling “the collective method.” Moreover, by adopting and practically implementing this approach, our project reaches beyond the decolonizing efforts of Western scholars to absorb and incorporate Indigenous ontologies, epistemologies, pedagogies, and methodologies within qualitative and quantitative methods by creating an autonomous space within the academy for distinctly Indigenous methods.

For example, to understand and deploy Niitsitapi collective methods, one would have to acknowledge and experience that all things have a spirit, a name, and a story. According to Niitsitapi Elders, “Our ancient stories tell us how our traditions were given to us. These teachings show us how to live and explain our relationship with the other beings in Creation” (Glenbow 2013, 18). Even though Elders and the old ones transfer these stories from one generation to the next, the stories themselves originally come from and belong to the relatives who gave each other and us humans their stories through the exchange of energy, observation (with all senses including spiritual senses), experiences with those relatives, and the questions we ask. “We just borrow their stories and share what the relatives gave [and give] us. In other words, the stories we tell about our observations and experiences with nature aren’t actually our stories, even though it seems like they are, they belong to the beings who gave [and give] them to us” (Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head January 19, 2022). This is what we mean by the mutual gifting of stories and it has profound implications when we consider all the information, knowledge, or stories that Western science has been given by níksókowaawák. According to Niitsitapi ways, all of that knowledge can be interpreted as our nonhuman relatives gifting us their stories—such is the unique perspective imparted by collective methods. Niitsitapi scholar, Amethyst First Rider (2003) describes this experiencing the connection as Native science:

[W]e are instructed to recognize all our [relations], from the sky to this dimension of Earth, and underground or the water beings. So, in our science, our knowledge comes from experiencing, not experimenting, but experiencing how the connection is. (First Rider 2003)

This is not to say that Niitsitapi don’t understand the world experimentally but that their science is principally grounded in relationship. As such, the authors actually embodied níksókowaawák method in order to understand níksókowaawák; in order to interpret social-ecological systems through a Blackfoot lens, which ultimately led to the articulation of the more generalized collective method. For example, because words have being, it is believed and experienced by Niitsitapi that words will find you (Kainai Elder, Makoyiipookaa [Wolf Child]/Wolf Child March 1, 2020). Many of the words used in this paper, the word níksókowaawák in particular, “found” us and transformed and enlarged our understanding of social-ecological systems. In fact, it was the authors’ relationship with this word and the beings it represents and embodies (including ourselves) that made plain the necessity of an autonomous Indigenous method to wholly understand and engage with animate ecosystems.

If the collective method is then a skeleton Indigenous methodological framework, then the culture-specific stories and ways of collecting and embodying relational knowledge existent in the diverse collective methods of various Indigenous peoples would be the flesh. This reality makes it not only difficult but inappropriate to outline a simple formula for how the collective method “works,” i.e., how we build relationships and make treaty alliances with nonhuman people and how nonhuman people communicate their perspectives and knowledge with us. However, if we were to generalize the many diverse collective methods of Indigenous cultures who understand and embody these ways, some universal ways relational “data” is “collected” would certainly include Ninna Piiksii’s examples: the exchange of energy, observation, alignment, listening to Spirit, experiences, dreams, and the questions we ask. Naturally, each group’s specific protocols for doing these things will vary. Most significantly for Western science is that through the lens of collective methods, all Western knowledge can be construed as stories given to scientists as they approach certain nonhuman relatives with specific questions and develop intense relationships with those beings through acute observations and the accompanying thoughts and insights (or stories that nonhumans share) that come through the analysis of the data collected. In this way, collective methods could be seen as more foundational than Western scientific methods if one considers that nonhuman beings honor their alliances by being consistent/patterned and reliable in their behavior with one another and humans in ways that make Western science possible. If nature is in fact comprised of a network of human and non-human peoples, then non-Indigenous people have already been using/doing the collective method in Western science and daily life without realizing it. Collective method implies that nature is always in relationship with us. Whether we acknowledge or recognize it, the “objects” of study are communicating with us. Western science asks different questions and so the relatives give different answers (stories). These are some of the consequences of collective methods that help non-Natives better understand ontological and sacred roots of environmental conflict (Table 1).

Table 1. Indigenous collective methods in relation to quantitative and qualitative analytical frameworks  

Method/methodology	Quantitative	Qualitative	Collective
Ontological orientation	Animate versus inanimate	Animate versus inanimate	Comprehensive relational animacy
Epistemic orientation	Deductive (aims to test existing theories)	Inductive (aims to develop theories)	Axiomative (aims to extend and embody foundational truths/stories)
	Scientific method	Comparative, evaluative, phenomenological, interview, and grounded theory methods	Axiomatic, experiential, and conversational methods
	Falsification	Interpretation	Interrelation
	Reductive	Constructive	Generative/creative and holistic
	Top-down (linear)	Bottom-up (linear)	Inside-out and outside-in (cyclic)
	Objective	Subjective (constructivism allows limited intersubjectivity)	Intersubjective
	Closed-ended questions	Open-ended questions	Energy exchange, alignment, ceremony
	Experimental	Conversational	Experiential and relational
	Mathematical and statistical analyses	Perceptual and contextual analyses	Spiritual/intuitional analysis
	Observation using 5 senses	Observation using 5 senses	Observation using 6 senses (Spirit)
	Involves theoretical and empirical knowledge	Involves empirical and theoretical knowledge	Involves spiritual, embodied, and dream knowledge
	Measurable, quantifiable data	Categorical, approximative data	Relational, storied data

Discussion

Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin (April 3, 2021) expresses his concern regarding the appropriation, interpretation, and overgeneralization of Blackfoot knowledge and methods saying:

You have knowledge of our stories and our ways, but do you understand? This is the challenge I give to anyone who wants to write about our way, you have to know the people, you have to know the land and the language.

Miiniipokaa’s challenge to scholars provides some guidelines to forestall overgeneralizing collective methods, especially within the context of social-environmental research: (1) you should know the people in whose territory you are conducting research, (2) you should know the land (nonhuman people/relatives) through direct experience and interrelationship with the specific territory where you are conducting research, and (3) you should know the language or at least be actively learning from, and developing a relationship with, the language of the people (including nonhuman people) in whose territory you are conducting research even if only a few words of the language are still intact or in use. Many Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars are already doing this kind or research by either trying to make room within quantitative and qualitative methods or calling for territory-specific methods, in which case they may find utility in choosing to generally describe their own specific methods as a collective method when interfacing with other Indigenous or non-Indigenous scholars.

When asked, “As an environmental scientist trained in both Western and Blackfoot ecology, what would you say are the most important distinguishing factors between the two methods?” Alvin First Rider (April 3, 2021) replied, “Blackfoot is experiential and interactive, you’re living with the land in relationship. Western is very strict, categorical, and prescribed. I try to walk in the two worlds the best I can. Holistic management is the best of both worlds.” Blackfoot Elder and anthropologist Naaminastohmi (Chief Body)/First Rider (August 18, 2020) similarly characterized this process of reciprocity and renewal of relationships with níksókowaawáks as an essential aspect of Niitsitapi science that informs and enlarges his academic understanding of social-ecological systems by acknowledging and engaging with the storied landscape as a research partner. This is the value of “Two-Eyed Seeing” (Reid et al. 2021), exploring the world using a variety of distinct ways of knowing/methods in a synergistic attempt to better understand the whole of nature.

While the collective method enables diverse human stakeholders to better understand and collaboratively operationalize Indigenous perspectives and practices to improve social-ecological outcomes, it does more. The collective method further complicates the already challenging questions: “[W]hat is at stake, who is struggling and who gets to decide what is at stake in environmental conflicts?” by acknowledging all things: water, soil, rocks, plants, animals, topographical features, elements, energies, ancestors, and potentialities (even seemingly abstract or symbolic entities like words, music, totems, and numbers) as stakeholders—each with their own vantage point, requirements, obligations/alliances, objectives, methods, experiences, and stories. In other words, when considering stakeholders of any given environmental conflict, according to the epistemic parameters of the collective method, one must take into consideration matters such as: To what extent do bodies of water (or soils, sockeye salmon, glaciers, etc.) as nonhuman stakeholders get to decide what is at stake and what is in the best interest of the collective? (Frandy 2021; Keakealani 2017; Wilson and Inkster 2018). Some governments and courts in South America, New Zealand, Asia, and North America have begun to recognize natural environments as entities rather than commodities by granting legal personhood to environmental beings like rivers (Khandelwal 2020). Again, the collective method complicates the process by asking, “What does a particular river want and need?” The answer to this question cannot be ascertained solely by acknowledging the personhood of a river but requires disclosing the vantage point of a river, which may or may not include the same perspectives, rights, and responsibilities that human persons might confer upon her. This can only be accomplished through interrelationship and alignment with a particular river and the collective of human and nonhuman stakeholders involved in relationships/alliances with that river over time.

By acknowledging the sociality and nonhierarchical interrelationship of all beings and considering Western policies and management through the lens of collective methods, recent proposals such as the one to decapitate a mountain in Southern Alberta for its coal, potentially polluting the headwaters of the Old Man River¹⁷ (home of Old Man Napi, the Trickster), become unthinkable. Findings from a recent University of British Columbia study (2019) confirm that “Indigenous land ‘management’ practices… result in higher native and rare species richness and less deforestation and land degradation than non-[I]ndigenous practices.” While their data revealed that vertebrate biodiversity on Indigenous managed and co-managed lands in Australia, Brazil, and Canada were equal to or greater than protected areas and randomly selected non-protected areas, their data did not allow them “to more fully explore the causal links with any specific practices and biodiversity” (Schuster et al. 2019). Collective methods are well suited to exploring the indicators of biodiversity which likely include specific practices rooted in comprehensive relational animacy. These specific practices and associated protocols will, of course, be culture- and territory-specific and therefore must be explored together with local Indigenous partners (Sarfo-Adu 2022).

Two concepts that inform both formal and informal Blackfoot land conservation are isspi’po’totsp (responsibility) and poo’miikapii (balance). For Niitsitapi, environmental conflicts and land degradation are seen as imbalances, breaches in treaty relations by Natives and non-Natives with níksókowaawák. Aisstainhkiakii (Coming Singer Woman)/Manyfeathers (February 6, 2021) explains that whether an individual, community, or environment becomes imbalanced “it’s the responsibility of the collective to restore that balance.” The Buffalo Treaty (2014), signed and embodied September 23, 2014 in Blackfoot territory, represents the collective commitment of Blackfoot and other Northern Great Plains tribes to restore balance to their communities and environments by renewing their ancestral alliance with Iinii (Buffalo) and restoring this keystone species to its prairie homelands. In the treaty, Buffalo’s vantage point and knowledge is recognized. He is acknowledged as the great provider and foundation of their economy, an agent of conservation, their beloved and respected brother/relative. While the Buffalo Treaty serves a distinctly practical purpose for the Native peoples who rely on Buffalo (and the balanced ecosystems he generates) for their physical and spiritual well-being and survival, the treaty also serves as an eloquent, compelling, authoritative exemplar of applied collective methods—a paragon of actionable Native science and conservation for other Indigenous groups and non-Indigenous people to emulate.

While qualitative methods such as constructivism, coproduction, and 4 R (Respect, Relevance, Reciprocity, and Responsibility) research (Kirkness and Barnhardt 2001) are meant to accommodate Indigenous ways of knowing into research conducted at least partly within a Western institutional context, this should not imply that universities need not consider providing an autonomous space for studies conducted entirely using Indigenous methods. This will require considerable effort by Western academic institutions to find ways to do so that truly eliminate expectations rooted in settler-colonial notions of scholarship. “People say, ‘Where did you get your education? Where did that knowledge come from?’ It come from the land, the mountains. The land, it is an epistemological source of knowledge for us. It’s a totally different knowledge system… We have a knowledge system. It’s not secret, but it’s privy. If you can cross, transcend that role of a skeptic, you can use it” (Murray 2019).

Conclusion

This paper argues that qualitative and quantitative methods are incomplete for knowledge acquisition and production because they cannot accommodate comprehensive relational animacy and the embodiment and spiritual analysis of relational data collected through the mutual gifting of stories among human and nonhuman relatives. Therefore, the need for an additional category to stand alongside qualitative and quantitative methods seems evident. The collective method satisfies this need by normalizing Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and doing, within the academy. We think this presents an alternative not mutually exclusive for all different stories disclosed by each method to be heard. So, rather than continue to integrate Indigenous collective methods into qualitative and quantitative frameworks, the authors of this paper maintain that the logical next step is to formalize the collective method as an autonomous methodological category that can be employed independently or in two-eyed seeing research for greater accuracy, efficacy, and equity in disclosing the complexities and perplexities of social-ecological systems.

Glossary

Ai’stomatoominniki	=	ay-STOOM-uh-DOOM-in-ni-gee; embodying knowledge
Aanoom	=	AWE-noom; this very place/this very spot
A’tsoo’tsi’kakimaan	=	uh-TSOO-tsee-guh-gee-mawn; combining our efforts
A’tso’tsi’kakiimatop	=	uh-TSOO-tsee-guh-gee-muh-DOOP; when everybody works on something together
Ihtsipaitapiiyo’pa	=	ITS-sub-a-dup-BEE-yo-p; Source of Life/Essence of Life/Creator
Isspi’po’totsp	=	iss-PEE-poe-dootsp, responsibility
Itsiipootsikimskai	=	IT-see-POOT-si-gim-skuh; where the water comes together as friends, confluence
Ksahkomitapiiksi	=	ksaw-goom-EE-duh-beegs; earth beings/people
Naatoyitapiiksi	=	naw-doy-EE-duh-beegs; a spirit animal
Natosi	=	naw-DOO-see; Sun
Níksókowaawák	=	NEEK-SOO-goo-WAG; all my relatives
Niitoyiss	=	NEE-doy-iss; painted tipis
Niitsipowahsin	=	need-SEE-boh-sin; real language, Blackfoot language
Niitsitapi	=	need-SIT-duh-bee; “Real People,” the name traditional Blackfoot people use to refer to themselves
Nitsiisstii	=	ni-TSEES-STEE; I am listening
Poo’miikapii	=	BOO-ME-guh-bee, balance
Sokaapii	=	soo-GAW-bee; good
Soyiitapiiksi	=	soy-YEE-duh-beegs; water beings/people
Spomitapiiksi	=	sboom-MEE-duh-beegs; sky beings/people

Acknowledgments

We acknowledge the resilience and commitment of Niitsitapi in maintaining their ancestral knowledge and practices despite unspeakable traumas and impediments meant to disband them. We appreciate their generosity in sharing some of that knowledge with the academy.

Notes

Notes

1 Káínai or Akáína (Many Chiefs/Many Chief People) or Blood Tribe is one of the tribes of the Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot People/Nation). The other tribes are Siksiká (Blackfoot), Piikáni (Robes Not Fully Tanned; Peigan) or Aapátohsipikáni (Northern Peigan) and Amsskaapipiikáni (Southern Peigan) or Blackfeet.

2 Because Blackfoot Elders expressed a strong preference that the term “Native” rather than “Indigenous” be used when referring to them, we have favored “Native” but also used these terms somewhat interchangeably.

3 The term “social-ecological system” has been used in multiple contexts and lacks a clear definition across disciplines (Colding and Barthel 2019); in this context, we use it to reflect Indigenous views that human and ecological systems are inextricably linked and mutually dependent (Fidel et al. 2014).

4 Ai’stomatoominniki is not easily translated into English and has many nuanced meanings including, “When you have made [knowledge] part of your body,’ ‘embodying your knowledge.’ [The] quality of coming to know your heart [which] designates ‘[I]ndigenous epistemology’ (Piikani Elder and scholar, Bastien 2004, 198, 218).”

5 A portable dwelling used by North American plains Indians.

6 As given to Atwood by Kainai Elder, Aahsaopi (State of Being)/Laverne First Rider November 6, 2019; Kainai Elder, Aiaistahkommi (Shoots at Close Range)/Mistaken Chief September 30, 2021; and Ninna Piiksii/Mike Bruised Head November 2021.

7 Sacred bundles are agentive non-human beings who communicate and interact with humans. Aakaomo’tsstaki/Michelle Provost (February 27, 2021) explains, “Our home belongs to Natosi [Sun] and houses bundles, they work miracles.” While painted tipis are in themselves sacred bundles, they also house other sacred bundles. Siksika Elder, Naato’tsisii (Holy Smoke)/Yellow Old Woman (February 27, 2021), emphasizes the foundational role of sacred bundles, “The Beaver Bundle is the first ceremony given to Niitsitapi. Our ways are all rooted in the Beaver Bundle.” Piikani Elder, Naamaakaakomi (Going to Shoot)/Jerry Potts (March 6, 2021) elaborates, “Beaver Bundle has over a hundred songs, all the birds and animals are in there and the oldest stories like Scarface and Big Smoke ceremony.”

8 Some Elders don’t like the translation “smudge” because it gives the impression that one is smearing something on the face/body when really, the smoke rising from the smouldering sweetgrass simply rises skyward making a connection with Ihtsipaitapiiyo’pa (Source of Life/Essence of Life/Creator). As given to Atwood by Aahsaopi/Laverne First Rider July 19, 2019 and December 24, 2021.

9 Everything has a name, a story, a song, and in the case of some knowledge or bundle transfers such as tipis and tipi designs, the song is only given one time and must be committed to memory.

10 Referring to belief in their stories as foundational knowledge, which knowledge is alive and composed of spirit (Bastien 2004).

11 “Before we take, we make an offering” (Kainai Elder, Sspomikkitstaki (Sky Offering)/First Charger, A. February 27, 2021).

12 A’tsoo’tsi’kakimaan (combining our efforts) as given to Atwood by Sako Opakiiyi (Last to Break Camp)/Wolf Collar March 4, 2021 and January 5, 2022. A’tsoo’tsi’kakiimatop (when everybody works on something together) as given to Atwood by Ninna Piiksii Mike Bruised Head on January 5, 2022.

13 As given to Atwood by Blood Tribe member, the late Clarence Little Shields, August 2011.

14 Transfer gifts/payments traditionally include things like a tobacco offering, food, blankets, horses, but now also include money. Typically these payments are placed in a wooden bowl covered with skins or cloth. According to Ninna Piiksii/Bruised Head (February 27, 2021) and Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin (January 29, 2021), payments and offerings shouldn’t be capitalistic but rather based in feelings of generosity and commitment—an offering that reflects one’s desire to learn and acknowledges the Elder’s role, expertise, and authority to transfer knowledge in a good way. “You’re going to give up everything in your life [speaking of being an Elder], even materials, [it’s] not sacrifice, [sacrifice] is heroic, we are humbling ourselves before Creator, Ihtsipaitapiiyo’pa” (Miiniipokaa (Berry Child)/Weasel Moccasin January 29, 2021).

15 “Listening is such an important skill in our traditional ways. So important that we had terms for people who didn’t listen despite being spoken to, often, but didn’t retain what they heard. Some of these terms include: Sa’nnamaistooki/[marrow filled] ears; sooto’kiyaiyi /No ear holes; ookspohtooki/sticky/gummy ear; etc. And if a person continued not to listen, they were threatened with: kítakahkannistookiyooko/you’ll have holes made in your ears/pierce your ears” (Aiaistahkommi (Shoots At Close Range)/Mistaken Chief November 18, 2021).

16 As given to Atwood by Ninna Piiksii/Mike Bruised Head October 3, 2020 ahnoom (in the very spot) where the Belly River and the Old Man River become friends and given again January 23, 2020.

17 https://www.nationalobserver.com/2021/06/23/news/coal-companies-develop-alberta-mines