How Indigenous Myths, Story-Telling, And Knowledge Could Forewarn Us Of Natural Disasters

When it comes to storytelling, mythmaking, and science, we probably think we are referring to completely separate and non-overlapping spheres of activity. After all, the former two contain fictions that, although expressing various truths or knowledge claims, are subjective, anecdotal, and not necessarily reflections of reality, while the latter seeks to use analytical, empirical, and ultimately objective methods to draw realistic conclusions about the world. But for some time now, scientists have recognized the value of Indigenous or local knowledge, and the story of the Moken is useful to understand why.

On the day of the tsunami in 2004, many members of the Moken tribe recognized the signs of what they call “Laboon” – the great and destructive wave. Within their culture, the Laboon is the “wave that eats people”, a kind of divine punishment that seeks to eliminate wicked people so that life can start anew. When Laboon appears, it is usually after a series of other waves have already passed by, which earned it the name “seven rollers”. So, when the Moken people saw the warning signs, signs taught to them through generations of storytelling, they knew what to do.

Humans have a habit of living in precarious places. From settling on active volcanoes to building along coastal environments that are routinely or randomly ravaged by the sea, we humans love to push our luck. However, generations of people living in such vulnerable locations have developed various ways to communicate the signs of these random and unpredictable events to future generations, and now scientists are learning to listen. And it turns out that listening to Indigenous and local know-how may well help us all in an increasingly unsettled world.

What is it really?

But what does this type of knowledge consist of? Well, it varies across contexts, but it is ultimately “know how”, an understanding, skills, or even philosophies developed by people with a long history of interaction with their natural surroundings. In many instances, this knowledge may have been communicated orally through cultural practices, such as with the Moken, but this is not a strict rule.

At its core, this type of knowledge represents a holistic understanding of the ecosystem in a specific context, along with its climate patterns, and natural hazards based on generations of observations and experiences.

Western knowledge has come to realize that Indigenous knowledge is necessary to be able to achieve an adequate management of fire and to prevent catastrophic harm.

Dr Iokiñe Rodríguez

One good example of this type of knowledge relates to Indigenous fire management practices that are now recognized for their role in reducing the risk of wildfire disasters. 

From the late 19^th century onwards, wherever Western people went, they saw Indigenous conservation practices as either ineffective or outright dangerous, especially when it came to what is referred to as “cultural burning”. In Australia, Western America, and elsewhere, authorities banned such practices, but rather than stopping fires, the prohibitions actually made them worse as fire-prone underbrush, which was originally controlled by cultural burning, became denser, fueling more severe wildfires.

However, in recent years, scientists and conservationists have begun to recognize the errors of these prohibitions, while Indigenous tribes have advocated for the reintroduction of their traditional practices. For instance, researchers at the University of East Anglia (UEA), UK, have worked with the Monkoxɨ Indigenous people of Bolivia to combine traditional knowledge and techniques with modern approaches in a way that is driven by the former, in order to protect the increasingly fire-prone landscape in the area.

“What’s happening now is that with climate change becoming so evident across the world, Western knowledge has come to realize that Indigenous knowledge is necessary to be able to achieve an adequate management of fire and to prevent catastrophic harm,” Dr Iokiñe Rodríguez, an associate professor in UEA’s School of International Development, told IFLScience.

“So the two knowledge systems are now coming together more closely, because Western knowledge is calling upon Indigenous knowledge to come to the rescue.”

At the same time, especially in the case of the Monkoxɨ people, this new emphasis on Indigenous practices is also a route into political autonomy and self-determination. These people have received land rights to their traditional territories and, since the 1990s, have been able to exploit the forests for commercial purposes. However, in 2009, the Bolivian government attempted to refuse the Monkoxɨ autonomy rights with the increased threat of fires – thereby calling into question their ability to manage their land sustainably.

“So, for [the Monkoxɨ],” Rodríguez explained, “ensuring they are capable of managing their territories in the long term is a very important part of advancing [their] autonomy right.” 

This interplay between effective management and political self-determination is not limited to this context either. In Guyana, the Wapishana (or Wapichan) Indigenous group, who Rodríguez worked with back in 2011 as part of the Territorial Management Plan, had to develop a management plan that included fire, alongside things like minding crafts, agricultural livelihoods, and biodiversity conservation.

Increasingly, scientists are using Indigenous knowledge to enhance and enrich their understanding of the natural world in various ways that expand beyond wildfire management. This includes fields as diverse as ecology, medical plants and drug discovery, marine stewardship, climate-reliant agriculture, and natural disaster preparedness.

Local knowledge of a turbulent world

Alternatively, “local knowledge”, while sometimes overlapping with Indigenous knowledge, is slightly broader, referring to the insights and understandings owned by local communities that are often based on their direct experience with their environment. This may consist of knowledge about local geography and weather patterns, or even historical occurrences of specific disasters – such as the so-called “tsunami stones”, centuries-old markers scattered along Japan’s coastline that warn descendants to seek higher ground after an earthquake, just in case a tsunami strikes.

This type of knowledge is particularly important for identifying early warning signs of potentially imminent disasters. For instance, the Maya communities living around Fuego volcano, Guatemala, have long known to observe the shape of the volcano to anticipate potential eruptions.

“At Fuego volcano, local people frequently observe that when the volcano is pointy, this means that an eruption is more likely in the near future,” Dr Ailsa Naismith, Honorary Senior Research Associate in Volcanic Risk at the University of Bristol, told IFLScience.

“This is very interesting because it agrees with what scientists have observed using more sophisticated technology. Some of my colleagues monitor changes in Fuego by using drones to make regular flights over the summit crater and take photos and videos. We have seen that Fuego repeatedly builds up an ephemeral cone of pyroclastic material in its summit crater through its frequent, small-scale explosions.”

This “ephemeral cone” builds up until it becomes too large and eventually cascades over the side, leading to rock falls and lava flows.

“We are still deciphering the exact mechanism which causes Fuego to have a larger, more violent eruption (which we call a ‘paroxysm’), but we see that it often follows this period where the cone overspills the summit crater,” Naismith added.

In this instance, there is essentially a process of “triangulation”, Naismith explained, where local people and scientists both contribute their observations to one another so that they can learn more about the volcano and its behavior.

A new appreciation for something old

Local and Indigenous knowledge should not be regarded as “new”, nor should we refer to it as something that has been “discovered”, as it has existed alongside people for generations. Instead, we might say that we have finally learned to recognize and appreciate it for more than an anthropological curiosity. And yet that is not accurate either. 

For decades, some researchers have recognized the usefulness of myths and/or Indigenous lore for scientific research, but this has typically occurred at the fringes. However, in the last decade or so, the whole idea has gained significant respect and broader acceptance among the scientific and international communities.

Effective disaster risk reduction requires building on Indigenous knowledge to complement scientific knowledge.

The United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction

In 2015, UNESCO published its Science Report: Towards 2030, which detailed the value local and Indigenous knowledge can have on the science-policy world. In particular, it emphasized how scientists are incorporating local and Indigenous knowledge in diverse areas, such as understanding biodiversity, managing crops, adapting new conservation techniques, and responding to natural disasters. Crucially, the report stressed the need for scientists to work alongside Indigenous and traditional knowledge to address climate change.

The United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction (UNDRR) has also recognized the importance local knowledge can play in disaster preparations. As they recently told IFLScience, for “generations, Indigenous peoples have successfully used traditional knowledge and methods to guard against disasters. Effective disaster risk reduction requires building on Indigenous knowledge to complement scientific knowledge.”

It is also important for custodians of traditional knowledge to adapt with the times, so UNDRR claims. Indigenous knowledge is always evolving as new layers of understanding emerge, but it can become obsolete if it does not adapt to the changing social, economic, and environmental context.

To aid in this, UNDRR have published their “Words into Action” guide, which urges “national and local level disaster planners to integrate traditional and Indigenous knowledge in their work.”

So, what examples do UNDRR have in the context of natural disasters? Well, one consists of the recognition of some traditional approaches to the structure of buildings that are more resilient to earthquakes or typhoons. 

For instance, in Japan, buildings with cypress timber frames are better at surviving such natural events. Similarly, in Samoa, traditional dwellings have raised floors and what UNDRR describes as “minimal permanent” sidewalls that pose little resistance to incoming storms. These features raise the overall structural stability of these sites, especially when threatened by floods.

In 2001, the magnitude seven Bhuj earthquake hit India and caused widespread destruction and death. But it was soon recognized that the traditional “pol” houses of Ahmedabad were particularly good at enduring the event.

These are just a few small examples of how localized methods can offer important insights into how we can adapt to future issues using older techniques. But what about after a disaster occurs? Can we learn anything that can benefit those who have lost their homes or been displaced for uncertain lengths of time?

Post-disaster Indigenous practices

The answer is also yes. Although in most cases, when a disaster strikes, Indigenous and local communities experience significant trauma, they have also developed some valuable ways to deal with it. For instance, the Māori community in New Zealand has relied on specific communal gatherings sites for generations, which serve various functions in their everyday lives (as places for discussions or decision-making) but are particularly important in times of crisis.

These sites, Professor Daniel Aldrich, Director of the Resiliences Studies Program and Co-Director of the Global Resilience Institute at Northeastern University, told IFLScience “have been communal spaces maintained for maybe thousands of years by the Māori as places where each tribe or sub tribe or family can come during the shock, usually on higher ground, and be able to work together collectively.”

Our phones, for better or worse, are the things that build our society. But of course, after a major shock, your phone’s not going to work […] So you need to actually communicate face-to-face.

Professor Daniel Aldrich

After the 2010 Christchurch earthquake, these sites became natural hubs for displaced people to meet up again, but the Māori communities also hosted support for “mainstream” New Zealand residents.

For Aldrich, this demonstrates the importance of “social infrastructures”, which are “spaces and places in society where people can communicate.”

“Nowadays”, Aldrich explained, “most of us are ‘social infrastructures’. Our phones, for better or worse, are the things that build our society. But of course, after a major shock, your phone’s not going to work, because the batteries will die in about two days, and most cell phone towers will be down. So you need to actually communicate face-to-face.”

The Māori, as well as other Indigenous communities across the world, have these spaces that are trusted and can be relied upon when disasters occur. However, many Western cities and communities lack this kind of social infrastructure, so when a crisis happens, there is more confusion, displacement, and uncertainty.

“We don’t all go to the same synagogue, we don’t go to the same church, we’re not going to the same mosque. We don’t watch the same political teams, right? We don’t do the same stuff. So this concept of a social infrastructure, I think it’s a very powerful one.”

The value of social infrastructure is slowly being recognized by researchers and policymakers. Time will tell whether it can be translated into something meaningful, especially as the instabilities introduced by climate change continue to progress. 

Still, there are signs that we are finally listening to those communities who have far more experience dealing with the turbulent world around us. Let’s just hope we can learn and work with them in a way that enhances and benefits both parties rather than simply exploiting this knowledge.