Arquivo da tag: Conhecimento tradicional

Indigenous Science: March for Science Letter of Support

To the March for Science, DC and satellite marches across the nation and the world:

As Indigenous scientists, agency professionals, tribal professionals, educators, traditional practitioners, family, youth, elders and allies from Indigenous communities and homelands all over the living Earth we

Endorse and Support the March for Science.

As original peoples, we have long memories, centuries old wisdom and deep knowledge of this land and the importance of empirical, scientific inquiry as fundamental to the well-being of people and planet.

Let us remember that long before Western science came to these shores, there were Indigenous scientists here. Native astronomers, agronomists, geneticists, ecologists, engineers, botanists, zoologists, watershed hydrologists, pharmacologists, physicians and more—all engaged in the creation and application of knowledge which promoted the flourishing of both human societies and the beings with whom we share the planet. We give gratitude for all their contributions to knowledge. Native science supported indigenous culture, governance and decision making for a sustainable future –the same needs which bring us together today.

As we endorse and support the March for Science, let us acknowledge that there are multiple ways of knowing that play an essential role in advancing knowledge for the health of all life. Science, as concept and process, is translatable into over 500 different Indigenous languages in the U.S. and thousands world-wide. Western science is a powerful approach, but it is not the only one.

Indigenous science provides a wealth of knowledge and a powerful alternative paradigm by which we understand the natural world and our relation to it. Embedded in cultural frameworks of respect, reciprocity, responsibility and reverence for the earth, Indigenous science lies within a worldview where knowledge is coupled to responsibility and human activity is aligned with ecological principles and natural law, rather than against them. We need both ways of knowing if we are to advance knowledge and sustainability.

Let us March not just for Science-but for Sciences!

We acknowledge and honor our ancestors and draw attention to the ways in which Indigenous communities have been negatively impacted by the misguided use of Western scientific research and institutional power. Our communities have been used as research subjects, experienced environmental racism, extractive industries that harm our homelands and have witnessed Indigenous science and the rights of Indigenous peoples dismissed by institutions of Western science.

While Indigenous science is an ancient and dynamic body of knowledge, embedded in sophisticated cultural epistemologies, it has long been marginalized by the institutions of contemporary Western science. However, traditional knowledge is increasingly recognized as a source of concepts, models, philosophies and practices which can inform the design of new sustainability solutions. It is both ancient and urgent.

Indigenous science offers both key insights and philosophical frameworks for problem solving that includes human values, which are much needed as we face challenges such as climate change, sustainable resource management, health disparities and the need for healing the ecological damage we have done.

Indigenous science informs place-specific resource management and land-care practices important for environmental health of tribal and federal lands. We require greater recognition and support for tribal consultation and participation in the co-management, protection, and restoration of our ancestral lands.

Indigenous communities have partnered with Western science to address environmental justice, health disparities, and intergenerational trauma in our communities. We have championed innovation and technology in science from agriculture to medicine. New ecological insights have been generated through sharing of Indigenous science. Indigenous communities and Western science continue to promote diversity within STEM fields. Each year Indigenous people graduate with Ph.D.’s, M.D.’s, M.S.’s and related degrees that benefit our collective societies. We also recognize and promote the advancement of culture-bearers, Elders, hunters and gatherers who strengthen our communities through traditional practices.

Our tribal communities need more culturally embedded scientists and at the same time, institutions of Western science need more Indigenous perspectives. The next generation of scientists needs to be well- positioned for growing collaboration with Indigenous science. Thus we call for enhanced support for inclusion of Indigenous science in mainstream education, for the benefit of all. We envision a productive symbiosis between Indigenous and Western knowledges that serve our shared goals of sustainability for land and culture. This symbiosis requires mutual respect for the intellectual sovereignty of both Indigenous and Western sciences.

As members of the Indigenous science community, we endorse and support the March for Science – and we encourage Indigenous people and allies to participate in the national march in DC or a satellite march. Let us engage the power of both Indigenous and Western science on behalf of the living Earth.

Let our Indigenous voices be heard.

In solidarity,

ADD YOUR NAME BELOW, AND SCROLL DOWN FOR FULL LIST OF SIGNATORIES

If you are an ally, please write “ally” under tribal affiliation.

SIGNATORIES

1. Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), Professor of Environmental and Forest Biology, Director Center for Native Peoples and the Environment, SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, Syracuse, NY

2. Dr. Rosalyn LaPier (Blackfeet/Metis), Research Associate, Women’s Studies, Environmental Studies, and Native American Religion. Harvard Divinity School

3. Dr. Melissa K. Nelson (Turtle Mountain Chippewa), Associate Professor of American Indian Studies, San Francisco State University, President of the Cultural Conservancy, San Francisco, CA

4. Dr. Kyle P. Whyte (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), Timnick Chair in the Humanities, Associate Professor of Philosophy and Community Sustainability, Michigan State University, East Lansing, MI

5. Neil Patterson, Jr. (Tuscarora) Assistant Director, Center for Native Peoples and the Environment, SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, Syracuse, NY and EPA Tribal Science Council.

6. Dr. Patty Loew, Professor, Department of Life Sciences Communication. University of Wisconsin-Madison

7. Patricia Cochran (Inupiat), Executive Director, Alaska Native Science Commission, Anchorage, AK

8. Dr. Gregory A. Cajete (Tewa-Santa Clara Pueblo), Director of Native American Studies-University College, Professor of Language, Literacy and Sociocultural Studies-College of Education, University of New Mexico

9. Dr. Deborah McGregor (Anishinaabe), Associate Professor, Canada Research Chair, Indigenous Environmental Justice, Osgoode Hall Law School and Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University

10. Leroy Little Bear (Blackfoot), Professor Emeritus, University of Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada

11. Dr. Karletta Chief (Navajo), Assistant Professor and Extension Specialist, Department of Soil, Water and Environmental Science. University of Arizona

12. Leslie Harper (Leech Lake Ojibwe), President, National Coalition of Native American Language Schools and Programs

13. Namaka Rawlins (Hawaiian), Aha Punana Leo, Hilo, Hawaii

14. Abaki Beck (Blackfeet/Metis), Founder, POC Online Classroom and Co-Editor of Daughters of Violence Zine

15. Ciarra Greene (Nimiipuu/Nez Perce), NSF Graduate Research Fellowship, Portland State University

16. Dr. Scott Herron (Miami/Anishinaabe), Professor of Biology, Ferris State University and Society of Ethnobiology President

17. Chris Caldwell (Menominee Nation), Director of Sustainable Development Institute at College of Menominee Nation

18. Jerry Jondreau (Keweenaw Bay Indian Community/Ojibwe), Director of Recruiting, Michigan Technological University – School of Forest Resources and Environmental Science

19. Dr. Shelly Valdez (Pueblo of Laguna), Native Pathways, Laguna, NM

20. Melonee Montano (Red Cliff Band of Lake Superior Chippewa), Traditional Ecological Knowledge Outreach Specialist, Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission

21. Nicholas J. Reo (Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians), Assistant Professor of Native American and Environmental Studies, Dartmouth College

22. Dr. Daniela Shebitz (Ally), Associate Professor/Coordinator of Environmental Biology and Sustainability, Kean University

23. Denise Waterman (Haudenosaunee: Oneida Nation), Educator, Onondaga Nation School

24. J. Baird Callicott (Ally), University Distinguished Research Professor, UNT

25. Dr. Nancy C. Maryboy (Cherokee/Dine), Indigenous Education Institute; and University of Washington, Department of Environmental and Forestry Sciences

26. Dr. Jeannette Armstrong (Syilx Okanagan), Canada Research Chair, Okanagan Knowledge and Philosophy, University of British Columbia, Okanagan

27. Barbara Moktthewenkwe Wall (Bodwewaadmii Anishinaabe), Knowledge Holder, Graduate Student, Keene, ON

28. Michael Dockry (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), PhD, St. Paul, MN

29. Joan McGregor (Ally), Professor of Philosophy and Senior Sustainability Scholar Global Institute for Sustainability, Arizona State University

30. Mary Evelyn Tucker (Ally), Yale University

31. Dr. Vicki Watson (Ally), Professor of Environmental Studies, University of Montana

32. Dr. Adrian Leighton (Ally), Natural Resources Director, Salish Kootenai College

33. Dr. Michael Paul Nelson (Ally), Ruth H. Spaniol Chair of Renewable Resources and Professor of Environmental Ethics and Philosophy, Oregon State University

34. Philip P. Arnold (Ally), Associate Professor, Chair, Department of Religion, Syracuse University. Director Skä·noñh—Great Law of Peace Center

35. Dr. Mark Bellcourt (White Earth Nation), Academic Professional – University of Minnesota

36. F. Henry Lickers (Haudenosaunee), Scientific Co- Chair HETF

37. Jane Mt.Pleasant (Tuscarora), Associate Professor, School of Integrative Science, Cornell University

38. Dr. Lisa M. Poupart (Lac Du Flambeau Ojibwe,) Associate Professor/Director of First Nations Education, University of Wisconsin Green Bay

39. Beynan T Ransom (St Regis Mohawk Tribe), Program Coordinator, Collegiate Science and Technology Entry Program

40. Cheryl Bauer-Armstrong (Ally), Director, UW-Madison Earth Partnership, Indigenous Arts and Sciences

41. Aaron Bird Bear (Mandan, Hidatsa & Arikara Nation) Assistant Dean, School of Education, UW-Madison

42. Scott Manning Stevens (Akwesasne Mohawk), Director, Native American Studies, Syracuse University

43. Preston Hardison (Ally), Policy Analyst, Tulalip Natural Resources

44. Dr. Jonathan Gilbert, Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission Director, Biological Services Division, GLIFWC

45. Ilarion Merculieff (Unangan – Aleut), President, Global Center for Indigenous Leadership and Lifeways

46. Denise Pollock (Inupiaq – Native Village of Shishmaref), Alaska Institute for Justice

47. David Beck (Ally), Professor, Native American Studies, University of Montana

48. Dr. Pierre Bélanger (Ally), Associate Professor of Landscape Architecture, Harvard University Graduate School of Design

49. Dan Sarna, Karuk Tribe Dept. of Natural Resources collaborator, UC Berkeley post-doctoral research fellow

50. Simon J. Ortiz (Acoma), Regents Professor of English and American Indian Studies

51. Bron Taylor (Ally), University of Florida

52. Dr. Ronald L. Trosper (Salish/Kootenai), Professor of American Indian Studies, University of Arizona

53. Tammy Bluewolf-Kennedy (Oneida Nation of New York), Undergraduate Admissions Counselor, Native American Liaison, Chancellor’s Council on Diversity and Inclusion, Syracuse University

54. Dr. Isabel Hawkins (Ally), Astronomer and Project Director, Exploratorium

55. Claire Hope Cummings (Ally), Lawyer, journalist, legal advisor to Winnemem Wintu Tribe

56. Linda Hogan (Chickasaw), University of Colorado, Professor Emerita

57. Laird Jones (Tlingit & Haida Central Council), Fisheries

58. Stewart Diemont (Ally), Associate Professor / SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

59. Kacey Chopito (Zuni Pueblo), Student, Syracuse University

60. Jason Delborne (Ally), Associate Professor, NC State University

61. Cassandra L Beaulieu (Mohawk), Laboratory Technician, Upstate Freshwater Institute

62. Nancy Riopel Smith (Ally), East Aurora, NY

63. Dr. Mary Finley-Brook (Ally), Associate Professor of Geography, University of Richmond

64. Michael Galban (Washoe/Mono Lake Paiute), Curator/Historian, Seneca Art & Culture Center

65. Cara Ewell Hodkin (Seneca), SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

66. RDK Herman (Ally), Baltimore, MD

67. Emily H (Ally), Delaware, OH

68. Dr. Dan Roronhiakewen Longboat (Haudenosaunee – Mohawk Nation), Associate Professor and Director of the Indigenous Environmental Studies and Science Program, Trent University

69. Dan Spencer (Ally), University of Montana

70. Katherina Searing (Ally), Associate Director, Professional Education / SUNY ESF

71. Dr. Robin Saha (Ally), Associate Professor, Environmental Studies Program, University of Montana

72. Andrea D Wieland (Ally), Career Counselor, FRCC

73. Dr. Colin Beier (Ally), Associate Professor of Ecology, Syracuse, NY

74. Dr. Michael J Dockry (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), St. Paul, MN

75. Matthew J Ballard (Shinnecock), Southampton, NY

76. Anthony Corbine (Bad River Band of Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa), Grants Coordinator, Natural Resources Dept.

77. Laura Zanotti (Ally), Associate Professor, Purdue University

78. Len Broberg (Ally), Professor/ Environmental Studies, University of Montana

79. Danielle Antelope (Eastern Shoshone / Blackfeet), Blackfeet Community College

80. Tomasz Falkowski (Ally), State Univeristy of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry

81. Dr. Elizabeth Folta (Ally), Assistant Professor, Environmental Education & Interpretation Program Coordinator, SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

82. Dr. Alexis Bunten (Aleut/Yup’ik), Indigeneity Program Manager/Bioneers

83. Susan Elliott (Ally), University of Montata

84. Cat Techtmann (Ally), Environmental Outreach Specialist

85. Marie Schaefer (Anishinaabe), Phd Student, Community Sustainability, Michigan State University

86. Dr. Ross Hoffman (Ally), Associate Professor, University of Northern British Columbia

87. Mary Elizabeth Braun (Ally), Acquisitions Editor, Oregon State University Press

88. Dr. Melanie Lenart (Ally), Faculty member, Science and Agriculture, Tohono O’odham Community College

89. Dr. Mehana Blaich Vaughan (Native Hawaiian, Haleleʻa, Kauaʻi), Assistant Professor, University of Hawaiʻi, Mānoa

90. Alyssa Mt. Pleasant (Tuscarora), Assistant Professor of Native American & Indigenous Studies, University at Buffalo

91. Dianne E. Rocheleau (Ally), Professor of Geography/Clark University

92. Jorge García Polo (Ally), SUNY – ESF

93. Jessica Lackey (Cherokee Nation), PhD Student- Natural Resource Sciences and Management, University of Minnesota Twin Cities

94. Katie Hinkfuss (Ally)

95. Dr. Jessica Dolan (Ally), Researcher/Adjunct Lecturer, McGill University, University of Pennsylvania; Conference co-ordinator, Society of Ethnobiology

96. Gregory J. Gauthier Jr. (Menominee), Sustainable Development Insitute

97. Lynda Schneekloth (Ally), University at Buffalo / SUNY

98. Dr. Mary Jo Ondrechen (Mohawk), Professor of Chemistry and Chemical Biology, Northeastern University

99. Ali Oppelt (Ally), Engineer

100. Dr. Toben Lafrancois (Ally), Research Scientist, Northland College and Pack Leader of Zaaga’igan ma’iinganag

101. Jessie Smith (Ally), State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry

102. Curtis Waterman (Onondaga Nation), Haudenosaunee Environmental Task Force

103. Luis Malaret (Ally), Professor of Biology Emeratus/Community College of Rhode Island

104. Dan Meissner (Ally), D’Youville College

105. Ilana Weinstein (Ally), SUNY ESF

106. Dr Rebecca Kiddle (Ngati Porou, Nga Puhi), Lecturer, Victoria University of Wellington

107. Wallace J. Nichols (Ally), Senior Fellow, Center for the Blue Economy, Middlebury Institute of International Studies

108. Catherine M. Johnson (Ally), Graduate Research Assistant, PNW-COSMOS Montana State University

109. Ranalda Tsosie (Diné), Ph.D Student/University of Montana

110. Gyda Swaney (Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Nation), Associate Professor/Department of Psychology/University of Montana

111. Tara Dowd (Inupiaq, Village of Kiana), Consultant, Red Fox Consulting

112. Michael P. Capozzoli (Ally), University of Montana

113. Siddharth Bharath Iyengar (Ally), Graduate Student, Department of Ecology, Evolution and Behavior, University of Minnesota Twin Cities

114. Jen Harrington (Turtle Mountain Chippewa), Graduate Candidate Resource Conservation/ University of Montana

115. Judy BlueHorse Skelton (Nez Perce/Cherokee), Faculty, Portland State University Indigenous Nations Studies

116. Dr. Charles Hall (Ally), Professor Emeritus SUNY ESF

117. Michael Hathaway (Ally), Associate Professor, Anthropology, Simon Fraser University

118. Rosemary Ahtuangaruak (Native Village of Barrow)

119. Charles FW Wheelock (Oneida Nation), National New World Resource Futures

120. Hayley Marama Cavino (Ngati Whiti/Ngati Pukenga– New Zealand), Adjunct, Native American Studies, Syracuse University

121. Warren Matte (Gros Ventre – White Clay Nation), Harvard University Alumni

122. Richard Erickson (Ally), Science Teacher/Bayfield High School

123. Chandra Talpade Mohanty (Ally), Syracuse University

124. Lauren Tarr (Ally)

125. Elizabeth J. Pyatt (Ally), Lecturer in Linguistics, Penn State

126. Grisel Robles-Schrader (Ally)

127. Suzanne Flannery Quinn (Ally) Senior Lecturer, Froebel College, University of Roehampton

128. Natalie Rodrigues (Ally), Student

129. Betsy Theobald Richards (Cherokee Nation), The Opportunity Agenda

130. Beka Economopoulos (Ally), Executive Director, The Natural History Museum

131. Melvina McCabe, MD (Dine’ ), Professor and Associate Vice Chancellor for Native Health Policy and Service/University of New Mexico Health Sciences Center

132. Nancy Schuldt (Ally, Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa), Water Program Coordinator

133. Crystal Lepscier (Menominee/Stockbridge-Munsee/Little Shell Ojibwe), 4H Youth Development Agent/Shawano County/UW Extension

134. Dr. Brigitte Evering (Ally) Research Associate, Indigenous Environmental Sciences/Studies, Trent University

135. Devon Brock-Montgomery (Ally), Climate Change Coordinator- Bad River Natural Resources Department

136. Bazile Panek (Anishinaabe), Photographer of Zaaga’igan Ma’iinganag and Youth Leader

137. Nikki Marie Crowe (Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa), Tribal College Extension Coordinator

138. Lemyra DeBruyn (Ally)

139. Abbey Feola (Ally)

140. Kate Flick (Ally), sciences educator

141. Laura Zanolli (Chickasaw), MSc/University of Montana

142. Kristiana Ferguson (Tuscarora), Sanborn, NY

143. Priscilla Belisle (Oneida Nation), Grant Development Specialist, Oneida Nation

144. Catherine Landis (Ally), Doctoral Candidate, SUNY ESF

145. Dr. Hedi Baxter Lauffer (Ally), Science Educator and Researcher

146. Brady Mabe (Ally), University of Virginia

147. Robin T Clark (Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa), Sault Ste. Marie, MI

148. Miles Falck (Oneida Nation), Wildlife Section Leader, Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission

149. Erica Roberts (Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina), PhD in Behavioral and Community Health, University of Maryland

150. Katelyn Kaim (Ally), State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry

151. Patricia Moran (Lac du Flambeau Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians), Conservation Coordinator

152. Tracy Williams (Oneida Nation Wisconsin), WolfClanFaithkeeper/DirectorOneidaLanguageDept

153. Jennie R. Joe, Professor Emerita, Dept of Family & Community Medicine,

154. Tana Atchley (Klamath Tribes – Modoc/Paiute), Tribal Workforce Development & Outreach Coordinator, Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission

155. Himika Bhattacharya (Ally), Assistant Professor, Women’s and Gender Studies, Syracuse University

156. Sonni Tadlock (Okanogan, Colville), BS Native Environmental Science, Northwest Indian College

157. David Voelker (Ally), Associate Professor of Humanities & History

158. Margaret Wooster (Ally), Watershed Planner and Writer

159. David O. Born, Ph.D. (Ally)

160. Jason Packineau (Mandan, Hidatsa Arikara, Pueblo of Jemez, Pueblo of Laguna), Harvard University

161. Janene Yazzie (Navajo Nation), Research Associate

162. Dr. Brian D. Compton (Ally), Native Environmental Science Faculty, Northwest Indian College

163. Giselle Schreiber (Ally), Undergraduate, SUNY-ESF

164. Dr. Antonia O. Franco (Ally), SACNAS Executive Director

165. Daniela Bernal (Ally), Communications & Marketing Coordinator, SACNAS

166. Haskey Fleming (Navajo Nation), Student at SUNY ESF

167. Annjeanette Belcourt (Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara Nations) Associate Professor

168. Nicole MartinRogers (White Earth Nation), PhD in sociology

169. LeManuel Lee Bitsoi (Navajo Nation), Assistant Professor, Rush University Medical Center

170. Yoshira Ornelas Van Horne (Ally), Doctoral Student, University of Arizona Environmental Health Sciences

171. Penney Wiley (Ally), Masters of Science, Health & Human Development, MSU, Bozeman, MT

172. Kathryn Harris Tijerina (Comanche), President Emeritus, IAIA (ret.)

173. Rita Harris (Cherokee Long Hair Tribe), Ritas Remembrances, Owner.

174. Lawrence Ahenakew (Chippewa/Cree), Deputy Director, HR Payroll Help Desk

175. Dr. Mary Hermes (Mixed Indigenous Heritage), Associate Professor Curriculum and Instruction, University of Minnesota Twin Cities

176. Emily A. Haozous, PhD, RN, FAAN (Chiricahua Fort Sill Apache), Associate Professor, PhD Program Director, and Regent’s Professor, University of New Mexico College of Nursing

177. Chiara Cabiglio (Ally), SACNAS Social Media & Communications Coordinator / Aspiring Personal Vegan Chef

178. Liz Cochran (Ally), Retired Elementary Educator

179. Miriam Olivera (Mixteco)

180. Janine DeBaise (Ally), Faculty, SUNY College of Environmental Science & Forestry

181. Taylor Saver (Anishinaabe)

182. Roxana Coreas (Ally), Doctoral Student, University of California, Riverside

183. Guthrie Capossela (Standing Rock Sioux Tribe), MA, Nonprofit Management, Native American Liaison Rochester Public Schools

184. Rachelle Begay (Diné ), Program Coordinator, Mel and Enid Zuckerman College of Public Health, University of Arizona

185. Tom Ozden-Schilling (Ally), Postdoctoral Fellow, Harvard University Canada Program

186. Wesley Leonard (Miami Tribe of Oklahoma), Assistant Professor, University of California, Riverside

187. Tom BK Goldtooth (Ally), Indigenous Environmental Network, Executive Director

188. Scott Hauser (Upper Snake River Tribes), Foundation Executive Director

189. Suzanne Neefus (Ally), Michigan State University

190. Shay Welch (Cherokee, undocumented), Professor of Philosophy

191. Heidi McCann (Yavapai-Apache Nation), CIRES/NSIDC

192. Todd Ziegler (Ally), Research Area Specialist; University of Michigan School of Public Health

193. Lauren Cooper (Ally), Academic Specialist, Forestry Department, Michigan State University

194. Zachary Piso (Ally), Michigan State University

195. Alisa Bokulich (Ally), Professor, Boston University

196. Randy Peppler (Ally), University of Oklahoma

197. Rosalee Gonzalez, PhD, MSW (Xicana-Kickapoo), Arizona State University(Faculty)/Native American in Philanthropy (Research Consultant)

198. Michael Burroughs (Ally), Penn State

199. Ayrel Clark-Proffitt (Ally), Sustainability professional

200. Paul B. Thompson (Ally), W.K. Kellogg Professor of Agricultural, Food and Community Ethics, Michigan State University

201. LaRae Wiley (Colville Confederated Tribes), Salish School of Spokane

202. Mike Jetty (Spirit Lake Dakota), Indian Education Specialist, MT Office of Public Instruction

203. Colin Farish (Ojibwe by adoption and marriage), Musician

204. Ayanna Spencer (Ally), Michigan State University

205. Eleanor (Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian), Anthropologist

206. Stephanie Julian (Bad River Band of Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa Indians) Indigenous Arts & Science Coordinator

207. Kirsten Vinyeta (Ally), University of Oregon

208. Laura (Bear River Band of Rohnerville Rancheria)

209. Evan Berry (Ally), American University

210. Sachem HawkStorm (Schaghticoke), Chief

211. Dr. Robin M. Wright, American Indian and Indigenous Studies Program AmDepartment of Religion, University of Florida

212. Dr. Bethany Nowviskie (Ally) Director, Digital Library Federation at CLIR and Research Associate Professor of Digital Humanities, University of Virginia

213. Arwen Bird (Ally), Woven Strategies, LLC

214. Robbie Paul, PhD (NezPerce), Retired, WSU

215. Elizabeth LaPensee (Anishinaabe and Metis), Assistant Professor of Media & Information and Writing, Rhetoric & American Cultures at Michigan State University

216. Gerald Urquhart (Ally), Michigan State University

217. Dr. Brianna Burke (Ally), Assistant Professor of Environmental Humanities at Iowa State University

218. David C Sands (Ally), Professor of Plant Pathology, Montana State University

219. Alex Lenferna (Ally), Fulbright Scholar, Philosophy Department, University of Washington

220. Robin M. Wright (Ally), American Indian and Indigenous Studies Program, University of Florida

221. Twa-le Abrahamson-Swan (Spokane), BS Environmental Science/Restoration Ecology, University of WA

222. Doug Eddy (Ally), PhD Student, Program in Ecology, University of Wyoming

223. Dr. Anthony Lioi (Ally), Associate Professor of Liberal Arts and English, The Juilliard School

224. Dina Gilio-Whitaker (Colville Confederated Tribes), Center for World Indigenous Studies

225. Johnny Buck (Wanapum/Yakama Nation), Student, Northwest Indian College

226. Henry Quintero (Apache), ASU

227. Dr. Nancy McHugh (Ally), Wittenberg University

228. . Neil Henderson (Oklahoma Choctaw), Univ. Minnesota Medical School

229. Sammy Matsaw (Shoshone-Bannock/Oglala Lakota), IGERT PhD student, ISTEM Scholar

230. Allegra de Laurentiis (Ally), Professor at SUNY-Stony Brook

231. Laura Schmitt Olabisi (Ally), Michigan State University Department of Community Sustainability

232. Andrew Jolivette (Atakapa-Ishak/Opelousa), Professor SF State American Indian Studies

233. Dr. Heidi Grasswick (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, Middlebury College

234. Emily Simmonds (Metis), Department of Science and Technology Studies

235. Stephen Hamilton (Ally), Professor, Kellogg Biological Station, Michigan State University

236. Michelle Murphy (Metis) Director Technoscience Research Unit, Professor WGSI, Steering Committee Environmental Data and Governance Initiative

237. Paloma Beamer (Ally), University of Arizona

238. Jaime Yazzie (Diné), Master of Science of Forestry Candidate, Northern Arizona University

239. Ramon Montano Marquez (Kickapoo, Kumeyaay, Pa’Ipai), Restorative Justice Implementation Strategist

240. Rose O’Leary (Osage, Tsa-la-gi, Quapaw, Mi’kmaq), Graduate Student University of Washington, Dartmouth College

241. Bill Brown (Anishinaabe), White Earth Resevation Aiiy

242. Dr. Amy Reed-Sandoval (Ally) Assistant Professor of Philosophy, The University of Texas at El Paso

243. Paul Willias (Ally), Squamish Tribe Fisheries

244. Audrey N. Maretzki (Ally), ICIK at Penn State Univ.

245. Dr. Dalee Sambo Dorough (Native Village of Unalakleet), University of Alaska Anchorage

246. Michael Kaplowitz (Ally), Michigan State University

247. Fawn YoungBear-Tibbetts (White Earth Band Of MN Chippewa), Indigenous Arts and Sciences Founder, University of Wisconsin Earth Partnership program

248. Melinda Levin (Ally), University of North Texas

249. Dr. Kari Mari Norgaard (Ally), Associate Professor of Sociology and Environmental Studies

250. Olivia Blyth (Ally), Teaching Fellow

251. Bart Johnson (Ally), Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning

252. Orville H. Huntington (Huslia Tribe), Ally, Tanana Chiefs Conference Wildlife & Parks Director, EPA Tribal Science Council, Alaska Board of Fisheries, Alaska Native Science Commission

253. Beth Leonard (Shageluk Tribe – Alaska), Department of Alaska Native Studies – University of Alaska Anchorage

254. Lisa Fink( Ally), University of Oregon

255. Carla Dhillon (Ally) P.E. Phd Candidate, U of Michigan

256. Lucas Silva (Ally), University of Oregon

257. Benjamin Kenofer (Ally), Ph.D Student, Michigan State University

258. Lillian Tom-Orme (Dine’ – Navajo), University of Utah

259. Dr. Ryan E. Emanuel (Lumbee), Associate Professor and University Faculty Scholar, Department of Forestry and Environmental Resources, North Carolina State University

260. Sue Cramer (Ally), Former social worker

261. Judith Ramos (Tlingit), Professor

262. Ashley Studholme (Ally), University of Oregon

263. Dr. Jack D. Cichy (Ally), Professor of Management & Sustainability, Davenport University

264. Iria Gimenez (Ally), Oregon State University

265. Kathy Jacobs (Ally), Professor and Director, Center for Climate Adaptation Science and Solutions, University of Arizona

266. Delight Satter (Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde), Health Scientist

267. Salma Monani (Ally), Gettysburg College

268. Jim Igoe (Ally), University of Virginia, Department of Anthropology

269. Rocío Quispe-Agnoli Quechua (Ally), Professor of Colonial Latin American Studies, Michigan State University

270. Jacqueline Cieslak (Ally), PhD Student in Anthropology, University of Virginia

271. Mary Black (Ally), Adaptation Program Manager, Center for Climate Adaptation Science and Solutions, University of Arizona

272. Kenny Roundy (Ally), PhD Student, History of Science, School of History, Philosophy, and Religion at Oregon State University

273. Bill Tripp (Karuk Tribe) Deputy Director of Eco-cultural Revitalization

274. Michael O’Rourke (Ally), Department of Philosophy and AgBioResearch, Michigan State University

275. Eudora Claw (Navajo/Zuni), University of Nevada Las Vegas

276. Ruth Dan Stebbins, Community Association, Yup’ik Student

277. Kathryn Goodwin (Blackfeet), Los Angeles, CA

278. Dr. May-Britt Öhman (Lule Forest Sámi – FennoScandia), Researcher, Uppsala University, Sweden

279. Sierra Deutsch (Ally), PhD Candidate, Environmental, Sciences, Studies, and Policy. University of Oregon

280. Leilani Sabzalian (Alutiiq), Postdoctoral Scholar of Indigenous Studies in Education, University of Oregon

281. Elizabeth Ann R. Bird (Ally) – Spec. Fort Peck Tribes Montana State University Project Development Specialist

282. Jason Schreiner (Ally), Instructor, Environmental Studies Program, University of Oregon

283. Dr. Chris Clements (Ally), Postdoctoral Fellow, Harvard University

284. Edith Leoso (Bad River Band of Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa), Tribal Historic Preservation Officer

285. Jandi Craig (White Mountain Apache), Apache Behavioral Health Services

286. Coach Glen Bennett (Grand Traverse Bay Ottawa& Chippewa), Archery Coach Program Coordinator Michigan State University

287. Stacey Goguen (Ally), Northeastern Illinois University

288. Jennifer Sowerwine (Ally), Assistant Cooperative Extension Specialist, Dept. of Environmental Science, Policy and Management, UC Berkeley

289. Angelica De Jesus (Ally), Graduate Student, Ford School of Public Policy

290. Theresa Duello (Ally), Associate Professor, University of WI Madison

291. Mike Chang (Ally), Makah Tribe

292. Natalie Gray (Ally), City of Seattle

293. Gyda Swaney (Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Nation), Department of Psychology, University of Montana

294. Dr. Theresa May (Ally), University of Oregon

295. Ida Hoequist (Ally), Graduate Student, University of Virginia

296. Stephen P. Gasteyer (Ally), Department of Sociology, Michigan State University

297. Dr. Rachel Fredericks (Ally), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Ball State University

298. Monica List (Ally), Animal Welfare Specialist- Compassion in World Farming

299. Keith R. Peterson (Ally), Associate Professor, Colby College, Department of Philosophy

300. Corey Welch (Northern Cheyenne), SACNAS

301. Kathy Lynn (Ally), University of Oregon

302. Agnes Attakai (Navajo), Director Health Disparities College of Public Health/ Director of AZ INMED Medicine University of Arizona

303. Kirsten Vinyeta (Ally), Doctoral Student in Environmental Studies at the University of Oregon

304. Amanda Boetzkes (Ally), University of Guelph

305. Princess Daazhraii Johnson (Neets’aii Gwich’in), Holistic Approach to Sustainable Northern Communities, Cold Climate Housing Research Center

306. Dr. Sarah Fortner (Ally), Assistant Professor of Geology & Environmental Science, Wittenberg University

307. Colin Weaver (Ally), University of Chicago

308. Kristin Searle (Ally), Utah State University

309. fleur palmer (te Rarawa and Te Aupouri), auckland university of technology

310. Dr. Jeremy Schultz (Ally), Eastern Washington University

311. Rosemary Bierbzum (Ally)

312. Holly Hunts, Ph.D. (Ally), Montana State University

313. Maureen Biermann (Ally), Instructor and PhD Candidate

314. Ben Geboe (Yankton Sioux), Executive Director

315. Vanessa Hiratsuka, PhD MPH (Dine/Winnemem Wintu), Health Services Researcher

316. Beth Rose Middleton (Ally), Assoc. Professor, Native American Studies, UC Davis

317. Brian J. Teppen (Ally), Professor of Soil chemistry, Department of Plant, Soil, and Microbial Sciences, Michigan State University

318. Adam Fix (Ally), PhD Candidate, SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

319. Sheree Chase M.A. (Ally), Regional Historian

320. Osprey Orielle Lake (Ally), Women’s Earth and Climate Action Network, (WECAN)

321. Megan A.Crouse (Ally), Hospice Maui

322. Craig Kauffman (Ally), Assistant Professor of Political Science, University of Oregon

323. Alex Poisson (Ally), Sustainability Coordinator / SUNY-ESF

324. Ashley Woody (Ally), University of Oregon

325. Brett Clark, Associate Professor of Sociology, University of Utah

326. Naomi Scheman (Ally), Professor Emerita, University of Minnesota

327. Michael Ruiz (Ally), Graduate Student, Harvard University Graduate School of Arts & Sciences, Boston Children’s Hospital – Department of Orthopedic Surgery

328. Shelly Vendiola (Swinomish Tribal Community), Community Engagement Facilitator

329. Elizabeth Gibbons (Ally), American Society of Adaptation Professionals

330. Kimla McDonald (Ally), The Cultural Conservancy

331. Kaya DeerInWater (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), Graduate Student, SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry

332. Nancy Lee Willet (Wampanoag), College of Marin

333. Julianne A. Hazlewood (Ally), University of California, Santa Cruz

334. Antoine Traisnel (Ally), University of Michigan

335. Dr. Julianne A. Hazlewood (Ally), Instructor, Environmental Studies, University of California, Santa Cruz

336. Gleb Raygorodetsky (Ally), Biocultural Diversity Consultant

337. Amanda L. Kelley (Te-Moak Tribe of Western Shoshone), University of Alaska Fairbanks

338. Iyekiyapiwin Darlene St. Clair (Bdewakantunwan Dakota), Associate Professor, St. Cloud State University

339. Angela Bowen (Coos), Director of Education

340. Meghan McClain (Ally), Tech–Microsoft

341. Wikuki Kingi (Maori / Hawaii), Cultural Symbologist / Master Indigenous Technologist / Navigator – Pou Kapua Creations; Planet Maori; TE HA Alliance

342. Tania Wolfgramm (Maori / Tonga), Cultural Psychologist / Systems Sculptor / Technologist / Evaluator – HAKAMANA; Pou Kapua Creations; TE HA Alliance; Smart Path Healthcare

343. Ann Marie Sayers (Costanoan/Ohlone.Indian Canyon Nation), Costanoan Indian Research……frounder

344. Robert L. Houle (Bad River Band of Lake Superior Indians), Executive Director of Bad River Housing Authority

345. Jason Stanley (Ally), Yale University

346. Marion Hourdequin (Ally), Associate Professor & Chair, Dept. of Philosophy, Colorado College

347. Sarah Kristine Baker (Muscogee Creek Nation/Euchee), Ally

348. Dr. Nicole Bowman (Mohican / Lenaape), Evaluator, University of WI Madison

349. Christian Cazares (Ally), Neuroscience Graduate Student

350. Roberta L Millstein (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, UC Davis

351. Janet Kourany (Ally), Department of Philosophy, University of Notre Dame

352. Dr. Elizabeth Minnich (Ally), A.A.C.& U.

353. Dominique M. Davíd-Chavez (Borikén Taíno), PhD Student Human Dimensions of Natural Resources, Colorado State University

354. Kristin K’eit (Inupiaq/Tlingit), Environmental Scientist, Bachelors of Science in Chemical Engineering and Petroleum Refining

355. Dr. Lorraine Code (Ally), Distinguished Research Professor, York University, Toronto, Canada

356. Erik Jensen (Ally), Michigan State University

357. Jerry Mander (Ally), Author, president Intl. Forum on Globalization

358. Forest Haven (Ts’msyen), PhD Student, Cultural Anthropology, University of California, Irvine

359. Margaret McCasland (Ally), Science educator; Earthcare Working Group, NYYM (Quaker)

360. Adam Briggle (Ally), University of North Texas

361. Irene Klaver (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, University of North Texas

362. Susannah R. McCandless, PhD (Ally), Global Diversity Foundation

363. Lona Sepessy (Ally), Librarian at Arrowhead Elementary School

364. Jason Smith (Ally), Little Traverse Bay Bands of Odawa Indians Fisheries Research

365. Dr. Luan Fauteck Makes Marks (SE Sioux, SE Algonquian, California Indian), Independent Researcher

366. Mariaelena Huambachano (Quechua), Postdoctoral Research Associate in American Studies and Ethnic Studies, Brown University

367. Jo Rodgers (Ally), Community Engagement Coordinator, Willamette Farm & Food Coalition

368. Lisa Rivera (Ally), Associate Professor, UMass Boston

369. Lea Foushee (Tsalagi), U of MN research

370. Carolyn Singer (Shoshone-Bannock Tribe), N/A

371. Dr. Dan Shilling (Ally), Retired foundation director

372. Dr. Sibyl Diver (Ally), Postdoctoral Scholar, Stanford University

373. Jeffrey McCarthy (Ally), Environmental Humanities, Utah

374. Kristin J. Jacobson (Ally), Stockton University

375. Elise Dela Cruz -Talbert (Native Hawaiian), University of Hawaii

376. Barbara Sawyer-Koch (Ally), Trustee Emerita, Michigan State University

377. Richard E.W. Berl (Ally), Human Dimensions of Natural Resources, Colorado State University

378. Ahmed Lyadib (Amazigh Morocco), Amazigh

379. Paige West (Ally), Barnard College and Columbia University

380. Jocelyn Delgado (Ally), UCSC Undergraduate researcher

381. Dr Krushil Watene (Maori, Tonga), Massey University

382. Jonathan Tsou (Ally), Iowa State University

383. David Naguib Pellow (Ally), University of California, Santa Barbara

384. Hafsa Mustafa (Ally), Researcher/Evaluator/Adjunct Faculty

385. Felica Ahasteen-Bryant (Diné), Director, Native American Educational and Cultural Center (NAECC), Purdue University and Chapter Advisor, Purdue AISES

386. Jess Bier (Ally), Erasmus University

387. Eun Kang, Environmental Studies, Korea Maritime & Ocean University

388. Gary Martin (Ally), Global Diversity Foundation

389. Cara O’Connor (Ally), BMCC-CUNY

390. Katina Michael (Ally), University of Wollongong

391. Mary Elaine Kiener, RN, PhD (Ally), Creative Energy Officer, ASK ME House LLC

392. Heather Houser (Ally), UT Austin

393. Dr. Ken Wilson (Ally), Retired (ex-University of Oxford; Ford Foundation; Christensen Fund)

394. Alia Al-Saji (Ally), McGill University

395. Kim Díaz (Ally), USDOJ

396. Alice M. McMechen (Ally), Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), Cornwall Monthly Meeting, NY

397. Gloria J Lowe (Cherokee Nation), Executive Director We Want Green, too

398. Cristian Ruiz Altaba (Ally), Biologist, Director of Llevant Natural Park ((Mallorca)

399. Brian and Iris Stout (Ally and Cherokee Nation), Forester and Author

400. Noelle Romero (Ally), UNC-CH Program Coordinator

401. Kathryn Krasinski (Ally), Adelphi University

402. Jane Cross (Ally), physician

403. Katie McShane (Ally), Associate Professor of Philosophy, Colorado State University

404. Nicole Seymour (Ally), Assistant Professor of English and Affiliated Faculty in Environmental Studies and Queer Studies, Cal State Fullerton

405. Marsha Small (Northern Cheyenne), Adjunct Instructor, Bozeman, MT

406. D.S. Red Haircrow (Chiricahua Apache/Cherokee) Writer, Psychologist, Master’s Student Native American Studies, Montana State University, Bozeman

407. Dr. John V. Stone (Ally), Applied Anthropologist, MSU

408. Paul Cook (Ally), Electro-Optical Scientist

409. Jennifer Mokos (Ally), Ohio Wesleyan University Dept. of Geology & Geography

410. James Matthew McCullough (Ally), North Central Michigan College

411. Vicki Lindabury (Ally), New York State Certified Dietitian Nutritionist

412. Roben Itchoak (Mary’s Igloo), Student, University of Oregon

413. Kath Weston (Ally/Romani), University of Virginia

414. Kelly Wisecup (Ally), Northwestern University

415. Becky Neher (Ally), University of Georgia

416. Sarah D. Wald (Ally), University of Oregon

417. Jill Grant (Ally), Environmental lawyer

418. Joseph Len Miller (Muscogee [Creek] Nation). University of Washington, Seattle

419. Richard Peterson (Ally), Professor Emeritus Michigan State University

420. Kevin Fellezs (Kanaka Maoli – Native Hawaiian), Columbia University

421. Jessica M. Moss (Ally), Georgia State University, Tribal Liaison

422. Christina Ferwerda (Ally), Independent Exhibit & Curriculum Developer

423. Lindsay MArean (Citizen Potawatomi Nation), University of Oregon

424. Andrea Catacora (Ally), Archaeologist

425. Cassie Warholm-Wohlenhaus (Ally)

426. Catriona Sandilands (Ally), Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University

427. Dr. Johnnye Lewis (Ally), Director, Community Environmental Health Program, University of New Mexico

428. Julie Williams (Ally), Consulting Archaeologist

429. Kerri Finlayson (Ally), North Central Michigan College

430. Alan Zulch (Ally), Tamalpais Trust

431. Ivette Perfecto (Ally), University of Michigan

432. Emily Jean Leischner (Ally), Graduate Student, Department of Anthropology, University of British Columbia

433. Megan Carney (Ally), University of Washington

434. Andrea Catacora (Ally), Archaeologist

435. Janette Bulkan (Ally), University of British Columbia

436. Jillian Mayer, Master of Science candidate

437. Nancy Marie Mithlo, Ph.D. (Chiricahua Apache [Ft. Sill Apache]), Associate Professor, Occidental College and Chair of American Indian Studies, Autry Museum of the American West

438. Hayden Hedman (Cherokee Nation), University of Michigan

439. Juliet P. Lee (Ally), Prevention Research Center, PIRE

440. Kaitlin McCormick (Ally), Postdoctoral Researcher (Anthropology and Museum Studies) Brown University

441. Nancy Rosoff (Ally), Andrew W. Mellon Senior Curator Arts of the Americas Brooklyn Museum

442. Kathryn Shanley (Nakoda), Native American Studies, University of Montana

443. Robin Morris Collin (Ally), Norma J. Paulus Professor of Law Willamette University College of Law

444. Albany Jacobson Eckert (Bad River Lake Superior Chippewa), University of Michigan

445. Lois Ellen Frank (Kiowa/Sephardic), Native American Chef/Owner Red Mesa Cuisine/Native Foods Historian/Educator/Adjunct Professor Institute of American Indian Arts

446. John Grim (Ally), Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies

447. Don McIntyre (Anishinabek), Professor University of Lethbridge

448. Robert B. Richardson (Ally), Associate Professor, Michigan State University

449. Craig Hassel (Ally), University of Minnesota

450. Melinda J McBride (Ally), Anthropologist

451. Saori Ogura (Ally), University of British Columbia

452. Dr. Paulette Faith Steeves (Cree-Metis), UMASS Amherst

453. Mary Hynes (Ally), University of Illinois

454. Dr. Robert J. David- Indigenous Archaeologist (Klamath Tribes), Visiting Scholar, University of California Berkeley

455. Max Gordon (Ally), SUNY-ESF, Biomimicry Club President

456. Mechelle Clark (Chippewas of Stoney Point First Nation), Student, Western University

457. Marijke Stoll (Ally), PhD Candidate, Univesity of Arizona

458. inanc tekguc (ally), Global Diversity Foundation

459. Kevin J. O’Brien (Ally), Pacific Lutheran University

460. Dr. M.A. (Peggy) Smith (Cree), Vice-Provost (Aboriginal Initiatives), Lakehead University

461. Catherine V. Howard, Ph.D. (Ally), Independent Scholar

462. Robert Alexander Innes (Plains Cree/Saulteaux/Metis), Associate Professor, Department of Indigenous Studies, University of Saskatchewan

463. Joy Hendry Scot, Professor Emerita, Oxford Brookes University

464. Catherine V. Howard, Ph.D. (Ally), Independent Scholar

465. Kimberly Yazzie (Navajo), University of Washington

466. Heather Rose MacIsaac (Ally), Graduate Student of Applied Archaeology at Indiana University of Pennsylvania

467. Gabi May (Metis), University of Michigan

468. Dr Raquel Thomas-Caesar, North Rupununi District Development Board, Iwokrama International Centre For Rain Forest Conservation and Joy Bloser Ally New York University, Conservation Center

469. Kirby Gchachu (Zuni Pueblo), Retired Educator, Chaco Canyon Archeoastonomy Researcher

470. Dr. John Tuxill (Ally) Fairhaven College, Western Washington University

471. Barbara A. Roy (“Bitty”) (Ally), Professor, University of Oregon

472. Justin Lawson (Ally), University of Washington

473. Joanne Barker (Lenape), San Francisco State University

474. Angela A. McComb (Ally), Student, MA Public Archaeology, Binghamton University

475. Donna Tocci (Ally), Field Museum of Natural History (former)

476. Paul McCullough (Ally), retired

477. Dr. Annie Belcourt (Mandan Hidatsa Blackfeet Chippewa), Associate Professor

478. Penelope Myrtle Kelsey (Seneca descent), University of Colorado at Boulder

479. Wendy McConkey (Ally), Cross Cultural Sharing & Learning

480. Kristina M. Hill (Ally), M.A. Candidate, Department of Anthropology, East Carolina University

481. Mark Dowie (Ally), Author: The Haida Gwaii Lesson (Inkshares Press 2017)

482. Dara Shore (Ally), NPS

483. Dr. Brady Heiner (Ally), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, California State University, Fullerton

484. Avni Pravin (Ally), University of Oregon

485. Janice Klein (Ally) M.A., University of Birmingham (U.K.)

486. René Herrera (Ally), University of South Florida

487. Kevin Chang, Executive Director Kua’aina Ulu ‘Auamo (KUA)

488. Celina Solis-Becerra (Ally), PhD Student. University of British Columbia.

489. Gregory Armstrong (Ally), Holy Wisdom Monastery

490. Aurora Kagawa-Viviani (Hawaiian, Pauoa, Oʻahu), graduate student, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa

491. Nerissa Russell (Ally), Cornell University

492. Joshua Dickinson (Ally), Forest Management Trust

493. Kristie Dotson (Ally), Michigan State University

494. Dominique M. Davíd-Chavez (Borikén Taíno), Indigenous Outlier (Grad Student), Colorado State University Human Dimensions of Natural Resources, NSF Graduate Research Fellow

495. Dr. Virginia Nickerson (Ally), Independent consulting researcher

496. Dr. Christa Mulder (Ally), University of Alaska Faribanks

497. Shu-Guang, Li Civil and Environmental Engineeing Michigan State University

498. Andrea Godoy (Shinnecock), Southampton, NY

499. Randolph Haluza-DeLay (Ally-US citizen), The King’s University

500. Sharyn Clough, PhD (Ally), Professor, co-director Phronesis Lab Oregon State University

501. Richard McCoy (Ally), Landmark Columbus

502. J. Saniguq Ullrich (Nome Eskimo Community), PhD student

503. Dr . Kat Napaaqtuk Milligan-Myhre (Inupiaq), University of Alaska Anchorage

504. Kaitlin McCormick (Ally), Postdoctoral Researcher, Anthropology and Museum Studies, Brown University

505. Kim Harrison (Ally), Professional Archaeologist

506. Penny Davies (Cymraeg Welsh), Ford Foundation

507. Erin Turner (Ally), MFA candidate in Social Practice at Queens College CUNY

508. Meagan Dennison (Ally), Graduate student

509. Deborah Webster (Onondaga Nation), Nedrow, New York

510. Kaipo Dye, MS – Columbia University (Native Hawaiian), University of Hawaii at Mania, Hawaii Community College – OCET

511. Philip Mohr (Ally), Curator, Des Plaines History Center

512. Jessica Brunacini (Ally), The Earth Institute, Columbia University

513. Dominic Van Horn (Ally), Shelby County Schools

514. Rosanna ʻAnolani Alegado (Kanaka ʻoiwi/Hawaiʻi), Assistant Professor, Oceanography, University of Hawaiʻi

515. Bryan Ness (Ally), Pacific Union College

516. Joni Adamson, PhD (Ally), Environmental Humanities and Sustainability

517. Dr. Michelle Garvey (Ally), Instructor: Gender, Women, & Sexuality Studies, UMN

518. Sydney Jordan (Ally)

519. John-Carlos Perea (Mescalero Apache, Irish, Chicano, German), Associate Professor, American Indian Studies, College of Ethnic Studies, San Francisco State University

520. Huamani Orrego (Ally), Master’s student

521. Giancarlo Rolando (Ally), University of Virginia

522. Dr. Jessica Bissett Perea (Dena’ina – Knik Tribe) Assistant Professor of Native American Studies, University of California Davis

523. Julie Skurski (Ally), Anthropology, CUNY Graduate Center

524. Dr. Linda Marie Richards (Ally), Historian of Science, Oregon State University

525. Eric Thomas Weber (Ally), The University of Kentucky

526. Sarah Jaquette Ray (Ally), Humboldt State University

527. Nan Kendy (Ally), Green Party of British Columbia

528. James Sterba (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, University of Notre Dame

529. Katie McKendry (Ally), George Washington University

530. Waaseyaa’sin Christine Sy (Lac Seul First Nation – Ojibway), Lecturer, Gender Studies

531. Miriam MacGillis (Ally), Director, Genesis Farm

532. Miriam Saperstein (Ally), Student at the University of Michigan

533. Emily-Bell Dinan (Ally), Graduate Student, Environmental Studies, University of Oregon

534. Danielle Kiesow (Ally), Indiana University of Pennsylvania

535. L. Irene Terry (Ally), University of Utah

536. Ann Allen (Ally), Independent Scholar, affiliated to Auckland University of Technology

537. Eleanor Sterling (Ally), Columbia University

538. Sandy Barringer (Ally), Reiki Master, Pranic Healer Level III, Shaman

539. Dr. Stacy Alaimo (Ally), Professor of English

540. Jennifer Shannon (Ally), University of Colorado

541. Eun Sook, Professor Environmental Policies

542. Mariaelena Huambachano (Quechua), Postdoctoral Research Associate in American and Ethnic Studies, Brown University

543. Janet Lyon (Ally), Associate Professor

544. Cassandra Bloedel (Navajo), Environmental Sciences and Conservation et al

545. Alaka Wali (Ally), Curator, The Field Museum

546. Sandra Luo (Ally), Middlebury College

547. Lesley k. Iaukea (Native Hawaiian), PhD student, University of Hawaii

548. John White (Ally), Tulane University, Community-based Conservation of Amazonian Food Plants Genetic Resources and Associated Indigenous Knowledge

549. Travis Fink (Ally), PhD Student, Anthropology, Tulane University

550. Eleanor Weisman (Ally), Allegheny College

551. Dr Albert Refiti (Samoa), Auckland University of Technology

552. Sheila Contreras (Ally), Associate Professor, Michigan State University

553. Eduardo Mendieta (Ally), Penn State University

554. Tim van den Boog (Arawak/Trio, Suriname), UBC

555. David Skrbina (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, University of Michigan (Dearborn)

556. Mark Sicoli (Ally), University of Virginia

557. Belinda Ramírez (Ally), Sociocultural Anthropology PhD Student, UC San Diego

558. Teri Micco (Ally), Artist

559. Wayne Riggs (Ally), Philosophy Department, University of Oklahoma

560. John Norder (Spirit Lake Tribe), Michigan State University

561. Dimitris Stevis (Ally), Colorado State University

562. Sherry Copenace (Anishinaabe), Ikwe

563. Associate Professor Deirdre Tedmanson (Ally), University of South Australia

564. Rebecca Albury (Ally), University of Wollongong (retired)

565. Dr. Tanya Peres (Ally), Anthroplogy

566. Laurie Begin (American – Ally), Occupational therapy

567. Lauren Nuckols (Ally), Penn State University

568. Jade Johnson (Navajo Nation), Undergraduate Research Assistant

569. Diane Thompson (Ally), Keeper of the home

570. Beverly Bell (Ally), Other Worlds

571. Ian Werkheiser (Ally), University of Texas Rio Grande Valley

572. Leana Hosea (Ally), Journalist

573. Paul Edward Montgomery Ramírez (Mankemé), University of York

574. Heather Davis (Ally), Penn State

575. Dr. David L. Mausel (Mvskoke), Forest ecologist, MTE

576. Catherine V. Howard, Ph.D. (Ally), Social Research Editing Services

577. B.T. Kimoto (Ally), Emory University

578. Sara Saba (Ally), Emory University

579. Maria Luisa Ciminelli (Ally), independent scholar

580. Sarah Buie (Ally), Professor Emerita, Clark University

581. Dave McCormick (Ally), PhD student, anthropology, Yale University

582. Michael D. Doan (Ally), Eastern Michigan University

583. Dr Tracey Mcintosh (Tuhoe, Aotearoa New Zealand ), Nga Pae o te Maramatanga, University of Auckland

584. Kelsey Amos (Ally), University of Hawaiʻi

585. Bob Rabin (Ally), Research meteorologist & student, Ilisagvik University

586. Julie Cotton, MS (Ally), Michigan State University, Sustainable Agriculture

587. Lisa Kretz (Ally), Assistant Professor, University of Evansville

588. Kiri Del;l (Ngati Porou), The University of Auckland

589. Carol Cooperrider (Ally), Former Archaeologist, retired Explora Science Center Graphic Designer

590. Darin Thomas (Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians), Graduate Student

591. Shawndina Etcitty (Navajo) Medical Laboratory Technician in Flow Cytometry and Hematology

592. Wyatt Musashi Maui Bartlett (Hawaiian ), Student

593. Sharon Ziegler-Chong (Ally), University of Hawaii at Hilo

594. Christine Winter (Ngāti Kahungunu), PhD Candidate

595. Alex Winter-Billington (Ngāti Kahungunu), PhD Candidate

596. Roberto Domingo Toledo (Ally), Independent Researcher (Philosophy and Sociology))

597. Steve Hemming (Ally), Associate Professor Flinders University

598. Kaushalya Munda (Bharat Munda Samaj, Jamshedpur, Jharkhand, India), M.A Sociology, & LLB.

599. Dana Dudle (Ally), DePauw University

600. Don Ihde, (Ally), Distinguished Professor of Philosophy, Emeritus, Stony Brook University, NY, USA

601. Shobita Parthasarathy (Ally), University of Michigan

602. Suzanne Held (Ally), Professor of Community Health, Montana State University

603. Dr. Michael L. Naylor (Ally), Comprehensive Studies Program, University of Michigan, “Our World” Life-Skills Project, Washtenaw Community College

604. Jeremy Narby, Ph. D. (Ally), Nouvelle Planète

605. David Isaac (Ally), JD Student University of Western Ontario Faculty of Law

606. Dr. Raynald Harvey Lemelin (Ally), Lakehead University

607. Doug Medin (Ally), Professor of Psychology and Education and Social Policy

608. Dr. Michael Menser (Ally), Department of Philosophy, Brooklyn College, Earth and Environmental Science, CUNY Graduate Center; President of the Board, Participatory Budgeting Project

609. Dr. Sylvia Hood Washington (Piscataway,Creek,Cherokee Descendant), Editor in Chief Environmental Justice Journal

610. Susanna Donaldson, PhD (Ally), West Virginia University

611. Jessica Robinson (Ally), University of Michigan School of Natural Resources and the Environment

612. Robert Craycraft (Ally), M.A Anthrpology student, American University

613. Daniel L. Dustin (Ally), University of Utah

614. Dr. Nanibaa’ Garrison (Navajo), Assistant Professor of Pediatrics, Seattle Children’s Research Institute and University of Washington

615. Elizabeth V. Spelman (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, Smith College

616. Patricia Kim (Ally), University of Pennsylvania

617. Timoteo Mesh (Yucatec Maya), PhD Candidate, University of Florida

618. Rebecca Hardin (Ally), University of Michigan

619. Allison Guess (Black collaborator), PhD Student

620. Natalie Sampson (Ally), University of Michigan

621. Alissa Baker-Oglesbee (Cherokee Nation), Northwestern University

622. Montana Stevenson (Ally), Student, School of Natural Resources and Environment/School of Business, University of Michigan

623. Dr. Leah Temper (Ally), Autonomous University of Barcelona

624. Allison Guess (Black collaborator), CUNY Grad Center program of Earth and Environmental Sciences (Human Geography)

625. Sara Smith (Oneida), Natural resource technician for Stockbridge-Munsee Community

626. Dr. Wendi A Haugh (Ally), Associate Professor of Anthropology, St. Lawrence University

627. Micha Rahder (Ally), Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Louisiana State University

628. Susan Knoppow (Ally), Wow Writing Workshop

629. Noah Theriault (Ally), University of Oklahoma

630. Alyssa Cudmore (Ally), Graduate Student

631. Adam J Pierce (Ally), PhD. Student Integrated Bioscience

632. Stephanie Diane Pierce (Ally), Biomimicry and education, content developer

633. Alex Peters (Ally), University of Michigan

634. Beverly Naidus (Ally), Associate Professor, School of Interdisciplinary Arts & Sciences, University of Washington, Tacoma

635. Tatiana Schreiber (Ally), Adjunct Faculty, Environmental Studies, Keene State College

636. Amy Michael (Ally), Albion College

637. Clement Loo (Ally), University of Minnesota, Morris

638. Johanna Fornberg (Ally), Graduate Student

639. Mike Ilardi (Ally), University of Michigan

640. Matt Samson (Ally)

641. Gabrielle Hecht (Ally), University of Michigan

642. Elizabeth Damon (Ally), Director Keepers of the Water

643. Erica Jones (Ally), Independent Scholar

644. Omayra Ortega

645. Roy Clarke (Ally), University of Michigan

646. Thomas Bretz (Ally), Utah Valley University

647. Les Field, Jewish University of New Mexico

648. Cassidy A. Dellorto-Blackwell (Ally), University of Michigan, School of Natural Resources and Environment

649. Lee Bloch (Ally), University of Virginia

650. Dale Petty (Ally), Professional Faculty, Advanced Manufacturing, Washtenaw Community College

651. Sofiya Shreyer (Ally), Anthropology Department, Bridgewater State University

652. Gordon Henry (White Earth Anishinaabe), Poet, Senior Editor, American Indian Studies Series, MSU Press

653. Joshua Lockyer, Ph.D. (Ally), Arkansas Tech University

654. bonnie chidester (ally), nurse community builder

655. Chris Fremantle (Ally), Edinburgh College of Art

656. Eric Boynton (Ally), Allegheny College

657. R. Eugene Turner (Ally), Louisiana State University

658. Kate Chapel (Ally), University of Michigan

659. Alex Kinzer (Ally), University of Michigan

660. K. Arthur Endsley (Ally), PhD Candidate, University of Michigan

661. Marcia Ishii-Eiteman (Ally), Senior Scientist, Pesticide Action Network

662. Braden Elliott (Ally), PhD Candidate, Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, Dartmouth College

663. Dr. Yogi Hale Hendlin (Ally), Postdoctoral Research Fellow, University of California, San Francisco

664. Robert Geroux (Blackfeet [Amskapi Pikuni] descent), IUPUI

665. Brianna Bull Shows (Crow), Student researcher

666. Grace Ndiritu (Ally), Visual Artist

667. Sarah Barney (Ally), University of Michigan

668. Richard Tucker (Ally), University of Michigan

669. Andrew Kinzer (Ally), University of Michigan – School of Natural Resources and Environment

670. Iokiñe Rodriguez (Ally) to Latin American Indigenous Peoples), Senior Lecturer, School of International Development, University of East Anglia

671. Kim Nace (Ally), Rich Earth Institute

672. Laura Baker (Ally), Marketing

673. Melissa Wallace (Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa), Information Technology

674. Jame Schaefer, Ph.D. (Ally), Marquette University

675. Schuyler Chew (Mohawk, Six Nations of the Grand River), Doctoral Student, Department of Soil, Water and Environmental Sciences, University of Arizona

676. Annie Mandart (Ally), from Tuscarora Nation), Academic Affairs, Daemen College

677. Steve Breyman (Ally), Associate Professor of Science and Technology Studies, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute

678. Courtney Carothers (Ally), University of Alaska

679. Dr. Renee A. Botta Ally Associate Professor, Global Health and Development Communication, University of Denver

680. Gregory Smithers (Ally), Virginia Commonwealth University

681. Jasmine Pawlicki (Sokaogon Band of Lake Superior Chippewa), Graduate Student-University of Arizona; Information Resources Assistant Sr.-University of Michigan Library Operations

682. Emily Blackmer (Ally), Former research assistant at Dartmouth College

683. Michael E. Bird MSW-MPH (Santo Domingo/Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo), Past President American Public Health Association

684. Kelli Herr (Ally), Student at Penn State University

685. Lilly Fink Shapiro (Ally), University of Michigan

686. Dr. Kelly S Bricker (Ally), The University of Utah, Parks, Recreation, and Tourism

687. Jim Maffie (Ally), University of Maryland

688. Basia Irland (Ally), Professor Emerita, UNM

689. Kelly S Bricker (Ally), University of Utah

690. Anapaula Bazan Munoz (Ally), Pennsylvania State University

691. Blaire Topash-Caldwell (Pokagon Band of Potawatomi), University of New Mexico

692. Todd Mitchell (Swinomish Environmental Director), Swinomish Department of Environmental Protection

693. Elizabeth H Simmons (Ally), Michigan State University, Department of Physics & Astronomy

694. Malia Naeole-Takasato (Kanaka Maoli), Educator

695. Joseph Paki (Ally), University of Michigan

696. J D Wainwright (Ally), Ohio State University

697. Fatma Müge Göçek (Ally), Professor of Sociology

698. Jennifer Welchman (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, University of Alberta

699. Kimber Dawson (Descendant of Fort Peck Assiniboine Sioux and Colville Confederated Tribes) The Pennsylvania State University

700. Kennan Ferguson (Ally), Center for 21st Century Studies, University of Wisconsin Milwaukee

701. Amara Geffen (Ally) Allegheny College

702. Dennis Kirchoff (Ally), Engineer

703. Nathan Martin (Oneida of Wi and Menominee), ASU graduate

704. Dr. Elizabeth DeLoughrey (Ally), Professor, University of California

705. Peter Kozik (Ally), Keuka College

706. Raymond De Young (Ally), University of Michigan

707. Amelie Huber (Ally), PhD Candidate, Institute of Environmental Science & Technology, Autonomous University Barcelona

708. Janet Fiskio (Ally), Oberlin College

709. Stacey Tecot (Ally), University of Arizona

710. Kate A. Berry (Ally), University of Nevada, Reno

711. Alice Elliott (Ally), Master’s candidate, University of Michigan School of Natural Resources and Environment

712. Vitor Machado Lira (Ally), Circlepoint/ University of Michigan

713. Chris Karounos (Ally), Master’s Student University of Michigan

714. Agustin Fuentes (Ally), University of Notre Dame

715. Sally Haslanger (Ally), Ford Professor of Philosophy, Massachusetts Institute of Technology

716. Bonnie Mennell (Ally), Educator

717. Tim Richardson (Uyak Natives, inc), Government Affairs consultant

718. April Richards (Ally), University of Michigan

719. Melissa Watkinson (Chickasaw), University of Washington

720. Sharon Traweek (Ally), UCLA

721. Stefano Varese (Ally), Professor Emeritus of NAS-UC Davis

722. Dr. MJ Hardman (Jaqi people of South America, Jaqaru – Tupe, Yauyos, Lima, Perú), U of Florida (emeritus)

723. Jamie Beck Alexander (Ally), Nest.org

724. Eric Palmer (Ally), Allegheny College

725. Dr. Chellie Spiller (Maori – Ngati Kahungunu), University of Auckland

726. Margaret Susan Draskovich Mete (Ally), Associate Professor of Nursing, University of Alaska Anchorage (UAA); Indigenous Studies PhD student at University of Alaska Fairbanks (UAF)

727. Anne Elise Stratton (Ally), University of Michigan

728. Frederique Apffel-Marglin (Ally), Smith College, Dept of Anthropology (Emeritus)

729. Diana Chapman Walsh (Ally), President emerita, Wellesley College

730. . Kristina Meshelski (Ally), California State University, Northridge

731. sean kelly (ally), CIIS

732. Mike Fortun (Ally), Department of Science and Technology Studies, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute

733. Chris Mcbride (Pākehā / Walking alongside /Ally), Curator/Artist The Kauri Project Aotearoa

734. Neal Salisbury (Ally), Barbara Richmond 1940 Professor Emeritus in the Social Sciences (History) Smith College

735. Marie Berry (Ally), University of Denver

736. Ursula K Heise (Ally), Marcia H. Howard Chair in Literary Studies, Department of English and Institute of the Environment & Sustainability, UCLA

737. Vanda Radzik (Ally), Associate of the Iwokrama International Centre for Rain Forest Conservation & Development

738. Pete Westover (Ally), Adjunct Professor of Ecology, Hampshire College

739. Dr. Christina Holmes (Ally), DePauw University

740. Mike Burbidge (Ally), University of Michigan

741. Richard J Kulibert (Ally), Nannyberry Native Plants

742. Katherine Gordon (Ally), University of California Riverside

743. Dr. Chaone Mallory (Ally), Discursive Activist

744. Linda Ayre de Varese (Ally), Artist and Teacher

745. Dr. Claudia J. Ford (Non Citizen Cherokee), Faculty, Rhode Island School of Design

746. Dr. Chaone Mallory (Ally), Associate Professor of Environmental Philosophy

747. Joy Hannibal (Belauan/Palauan), Academic Advisor, Michigan State University

748. Marina Zurkow (Ally), artist and educator, ITP, Tisch School of the Arts, NYU

749. Luisa Maffi (Ally), Terralingua

750. Denise Burchsted (Ally), Assistant Professor, Keene State College

751. Lindy Labriola (Ally), Student

752. Beth Preston (Ally), Professor of Philosophy, University of Georgia

753. Eaton Asher (Ally), Western UniversityEric Ederer Ally Public Health MPH

754. Andrew Ross (Ally), Professor of Social and Cultural Analysis, NYU

755. sakej younblood henderson (Chickasaw), Native Science Academy

756. Amy Kuʻuleialoha Stillman (Native Hawaiian), University of Michigan

757. Gretel Ehrlich (Ally: Inuit), Published writer

758. Watson Puiahi (Areare Namo Araha Council of Chief), ILukim Sustainability Solomon Islands

759. David Schlosberg (Ally), University of Sydney, Sydney Environment Institute

760. Jean Jackson (Ally), Professor of Anthropology Emeritus, Massachusetts Institute of Technology

761. Julie Gaffarel (Ally), Agronomist and doula

762. Antonina Griecci Woodsum (Ally), Columbia University Graduate Student

763. Todd May (Ally), Clemson University

764. Kathleen Dean Moore (Ally), Distinguished Professor of Philosophy, Oregon State University

765. Phil Rees (Ally), Terralingua

766. Dr. J. Lin Compton, PhD (Cherokee, Mohawk ), Professor Emeritus, University of Wiscosinnsin

767. Kristina Anderson (Ally), Graduate Student

768. August Pattiselanno (Ambonese), Agribusiness Department, Faculty of Agricultural, Pattimura University

769. Susana Nuccetelli (Ally), St. Cloud State University

770. Khadijah Jacobs (Navajo Nation), Student at UNM

771. Gary Seay (Ally), Medgar Evers College/CUNY

772. Thomas K Seligman (Ally), Stanford University

773. Hiram Larew, Ph.D. (Ally), Retired, US Department of Agriculture

774. Joan Baron (Ally), environmental artist

775. Lisa Heldke (Ally), Professor of Philosophy; Director, Nobel Conference, Gustavus Adolphus College

776. Chad Okulich (Ally), Teacher

777. Liza Grandia (Ally), Associate Professor, Department of Native American Studies, UC-Davis

778. Rebecca Alexander (Ally), Assistant Professor of Education Studies, DePauw University

779. Larry Beck, Ph.D. (Ally), San Diego State University

780. Dr. Kevin Elliott (Ally), Associate Professor in Lyman Briggs College, Dept. of Fisheries & Wildlife, and Dept. of Philosophy, Michigan State University

781. Amanda Meier (Ally), PhD Candidate, University of Michigan

782. Dr. Bruce D. Martin (Ally), The Pennsylvani State University

783. Janie Simms Hipp, JD, LLM (Chickasaw), Director, Indigenous Food and Agriculture Initiative, University of Arkansas School of Law

784. Philip Deloria (Dakota), University of Michigan

785. Geoffrey Johnson (Ally), University of Oregon

786. Dr. James Crowfoot (Ally), Professor and Dean Emeritus, School of Natural Resources and Environment, University of Michigan

787. Gregory J. Marsano (Ally), Environmental Law and Policy Student, Vermont Law School

788. Dominic Bednar (Black), University of Michigan, Doctoral student

789. Devin Hansen (Sugpiaq), Forestry

790. Shona Ramchandani (Ally), Science Museum of Minnesota

791. Dr. Sean Kerins (Ally), Fellow, Centre for Aboriginal Economic Policy Research, The Australian National University

792. Jill Hernandez (Ally), Associate Professor of Philosophy, University of Texas at San Antonio

793. John Grey (Ally), Michigan State University

794. Ann Regan (Ally), Minnesota Historical Society Press

795. Nancy Rich (Ally), Adjunct Professor, Environmental Biology, Springfield Technical Community College

796. Dr. Florence Vaccarello Dunkel (Sicilian Ally), Associate Professor of Entomology, Department of Plant Sciences and Plant Pathology,Montana State University

797. Melissa Krug (Allly), Temple University

798. Joan Carling (Kankanaey-Igorot), Former member- Expert member of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues

799. Dennis Longknife Jr (Ally), Tribal Climate Change Scientist

800. Char Jensen (Ally), Naturopathic Physician, Spiritual Advisor, Teacher, Mentor

801. Guillermo Delgado-P. (Quechua linguistics), Anthropology Department, Univ. of California Santa Cruz

802. Georgina Cullman (Ally), American Museum of Natural History

803. Dr. Elizabeth Allison (Ally), California Institute of Integral Studies

804. Jeff Peterson (Alutiiq tribe of Old Harbor), Tourism business owner

805. Kris Sealey (Ally), Associate Professor of Philosophy, Fairfield University

806. Elizabeth Hoover (Mohawk/Mi’kmaq), Assistant Professor of American Studies, Brown University

807. David H. Kim (Ally), U of San Francisco

808. Jamie Holding Eagle (Mandan Hidatsa Arikara Nation), North Dakota State University

809. Dr. David L. Secord (Ally), University of Washington, Simon Fraser University, and Barnacle Strategies Consulting

810. Susanna B Hecht (Ally), UCLA and Graduate Institute for International Development,. Geneva

811. Raquell Holmes (Ally), Founder, improvscience; Assistant Research Prof. Boston University

812. Shakara Tyler (Ally), Graduate Student, Michigan State University

813. Irene Perez Llorente (Ally), UNAM

814. Christina Callicott (Ally), University of Florida

815. Julie Marckel (Ally), Science Museum of Minnesota

816. Elsa Hoover (Algonquin Anishinaabe), Columbia University

817. Jennifer Gardy (Ally), University of British Columbia

818. Nicole Sukdeo (Ally), University of Northern British Columbia

819. Kristina Mani (Ally), Oberlin College

820. Ricky Bell (Ngāti Hine, Aotearoa – New Zealand), University of Otago

821. Kimberly Danny (Navajo), Ph.D. Student, University of Arizona

822. Samuel M. ʻOhukaniʻōhiʻa Gon III (Hawaiian), The Nature Conservancy of Hawaiʻi; University of Hawaiʻi

823. Yi Deng (Ally), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, University of North Georgia

824. Noelani Puniwai (Kanaka Maoli), University of Hawaii at Manoa

825. Yiran Emily Liu (Ally), Undergraduate Student Researcher

826. Britt Baatjes (Ally), Researcher

827. Dr. Stephanie Aisha Steplight Johnson (Ally), Higher Education Administrator

828. Jennifer Gunn (Ally), University of Minnesota

829. Andrea R. Gammon (Ally), PhD Researcher

830. Darren J. Ranco, PhD (Penobscot), University of Maine

831. Mascha Gugganig (Ally), Munich Center for Technology in Society, Technical University Munich

832. Jessie Pauline Collins (Cherokee-Saponi), Citizens’ Resistance at Fermi 2 (CRAFT)Sophia

833. Efstathiou (Ally) Programme for Applied Ethics, Norwegian University of Science and Technology

834. David Tomblin (Ally), Director: Science, Technology and Society Program, University of Maryland

Is herbalism another form of magic? (The Irish Times)

Patients less likely to be fobbed off these days with a vague promise they will get better

“Ireland has a rich ethno-medical knowledge and a history of traditional healing,” says Helen Sheridan, professor of pharmacology at Trinity College.

 GPs in Ireland used to give people a bottle of medicine. It was pink or it was blue, and if one didn’t work you tried the other one. Then, as now, most ailments got better with or without medication.

Many people in Ireland, until at least the mid 20th century, believed that their health and wellbeing, as well as that of their animals, were routinely threatened by envious and ill-intentioned neighbours, witches and fairies.

Biddy Early, the famous wise woman of Clare who is said to have died in 1874, reputedly had a magical power to cure illnesses and ailments.

Stories collected by Lady Gregory say Biddy Early had a magic bottle – in the same vein as a crystal ball – which she used to communicate with the fairies and to heal people. People came to her and told them her problems. She listened.

Along with another healer, Moll Anthony of Kildare – who was such an outcast the priest is said to refused her a Christian burial – both of these women gave out bottles containing some kind of unspecified liquid which people were told to drink. Exactly what was in these bottles, nobody is sure.

Today, the work of herbalists is subject to far more scrutiny, and their patients are less likely to be fobbed off with a vague promise they will get better. Now, they want to know what’s in the bottle.

“Ireland has a rich ethno-medical knowledge and a history of traditional healing, but it is not as culturally embedded as in other countries like France, Germany and Austria,” says Helen Sheridan, professor of pharmacology at Trinity College.

Dr Ronnie Moore, a lecturer in sociology and a lecturer in public health medicine and epidemiology at UCD, is a critic of the power of modern biomedicine and takes a different perspective.

“The herbs or minerals are all props: this is about magic and to belief systems,” he said.

“Magic?” I ask incredulously. “That’s a loaded word.”

“I like to use the word because that is exactly what is at play here,” he says. “Talk of placebo and nocebo if you want, but you’re buying into medical discourse. I introduce my students to placebo by calling it witchcraft, because it does the same thing and has the same functions.”

What’s so wrong about medical discourse? I ask. Hasn’t it greatly expanded the human lifespan, saved hundreds of millions of lives and led to massive improvements in our quality of life?

“Biomedicine tends to see the body as a machine, but to use that approach ignores psychosocial responses – of which there are many – to healing,” says Moore.

“Which has done more harm: herbs or biomedicine? [The disgraced obstetrician] Michael Neary needlessly removed 129 women’s wombs; the drug Thalidomide led to birth defects; and people have died on drug trials.”

When Moore started to write a book on the topic, he realised that his ideas would be controversial and decided that he needed to work with other academics.

But there’s increasing evidence that this “magic”, to use Moore’s term, might actually work, and it seems to be due to one of the most misunderstood concepts in modern healthcare: the placebo effect.

Helen Sheridan, associate professor at the School of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences in Trinity College Dublin and an advisor to the subcommitte on herbal medicines with the Health Products Regulatory Authority, says placebo applies to people when they may be some element of the immune system brought into play, that is controlled by the mind.

In her recent book Cure, the author Jo Marchant lays bare a catalogue of studies showing that the placebo effect is deeply complex and so much more than just a curious trick of the mind where we believe we are better.

Marchant tells of Ted Kaputchuk, who trained and worked as a traditional Chinese herbalist and acupuncturist for many years before becoming professor of medicine and professor of global health and social medicine at Harvard Medical School. While practicing as a herbalist, he watched people visibly improve before they had even left his office, but he became uncomfortable with the idea that it was the herbs at work.

Placebo effect

In a more recent experiment, Kaputchuk teamed up with his colleague, Dr Anthony Lembo, a gastroenterologist. In a trial of 80 patients with long-term irritable bowel syndrome, half were given a placebo and told it was a placebo but it might help with self-healing, and they still did better than those who got no treatment. A study of 20 women with depression showed up similar results, while a study on migraine patients found that those who knew they were taking a placebo still felt 30 per cent less pain than those receiving no treatment.

Evidence is mounting for the placebo effect. The mere belief we are being looked after, with medicine and care from nurses or loved ones, can help to ease symptoms, boost the immune system and even prevent us from getting sick in the first place.

Studies conducted by Jon Levine, a neuroscientist at the University of California in Los Angeles, have shown that our brains can release endorphins – “the happy drug” but also a natural painkiller – which is part of the opiate family of chemicals that includes heroin and morphine – when we take placebo. Our mind doesn’t just influence our health, it is inextricably linked with it.

But Marchant also shows that the placebo effect – or call it “a belief in the infinite healing power of the universe” over modern medicine, or whatever else you want to – won’t cure many illnesses, including diabetes, asthma and cancer. Nor will it lower your blood pressure. So it’s not the panacea either.

Herbalists have tended to emphasise the importance of good digestion and gut health, exposing themselves to the claim that they’re similar to reflexologists who say that different parts of the hands or feet correspond to different parts of the body and that ailments can be cured by stimulating them.

Unlike reflexologists, however, there’s at least some solid evidence to support them.

Earlier this year, researchers at University College Cork found that the microbes in our gut influence how our nerves work.

We already know that bowel disorders, the immune system and obesity are influenced by the microbiome (the 1kg+ of bacteria and other organisms living in our gut) and now there is evidence that it can influence stress, anxiety and depression.

Professor John Cryan, head of the Department of Anatomy and Neuroscience at UCC, told this newspaper’s science editor, Dick Ahlstrom, that our brains have developed with signals from the microbes all the time.

Irving Kirsch, a lecturer in medicine at Harvard University, has produced a body of research showing that the effect of pharmaceutical drugs used for depression had little more effect than placebo.

Kirsch put in a freedom of information request to the US Food and Drug Administration on clinical trials of antidepressants.

The response suggested what pharmaceutical firms had not been telling us: with the exception of severe cases, most antidepressants (such as Prozac) performed little or no better than an inert sugar pill placebo.

His research has been criticised on the basis of flaws in those trials and the difficulties in measuring improvements in depression.

But between the placebo effect and the influence of the microbiome on our body and mind, could the herbalists be onto something?

Research in the National Folklore Collection shows many herbal remedies were accompanied by some kind of ritual: usually a chant, prayer, incantation, or sometimes a symbolic rite such as passing a sick person three times around a bush or animal.

People get better, says anthropologist Dan Moerman of the University of Michigan, because of the meaning that is attached to the treatment, whether that’s from a medical doctor or a traditional herbalist.

A range of researchers suggest that how we take our pills is important and they work better if there’s a little ritual around them: take them with a prayer or meditation, before bath time or get someone else to give them to you which will help you feel more cared for.

Bethann Roche is one of the founders of the Irish Medical Anthropology Network, and her own background is in anthropology and medicine.

She has spent most of her working life as a public health doctor in Ireland and many years examining the phenomenon of faith healing. She says anthropology has a contribution to make to health – and she emphasises the word health as distinct from medicine.

Regarding magic she say: “it is helpful to look at this in total context rather than blaming health professionals for being too narrow-minded or patients for being too superstitious”.

Isn’t placebo just a polite way of saying “it’s all in your head” I ask Dr Dilis Clare, a GP and practicing herbalist based in Galway.

She laughs heartily. “And isn’t that a wonderful place to be? Your healing is all in your head. That is fantastic.”

I grimace and prevaricate. Well, I say, the implication is that you were imagining it all along.

The smile falls from her face.

“So?” she asks. “If imagination is so powerful that it can stop coals burning feet, why would it not be strong enough to either give you IBS or be a part of it?”

If you have an abnormal microbiome it produces hormones which are like small protein molecules going straight to the brain, easily absorbed across the gut barrier and blood brain barrier.

“Which came first, the illness or the imagination, the chicken of the egg? Does it matter?”

How philosophy came to disdain the wisdom of oral cultures (AEON)

01 June 2016

Justin E H Smith is a professor of history and philosophy of science at the Université Paris Diderot – Paris 7. He writes frequently for The New York Times and Harper’s Magazine. His latest book is The Philosopher: A History in Six Types(2016).

Published in association with Princeton University Press, an Aeon Partner

Edited by Marina Benjamin

ESSAY: We learn more about our language by listening to the wolves

IDEA: Why science needs to break the spell of reductive materialism

VIDEO: Does the meaning of words rest in our private minds or in our shared experience?

Idea sized ahron de leeuw 3224207371 bde659342e o

Ahron de Leeuw/Flickr

A poet, somewhere in Siberia, or the Balkans, or West Africa, some time in the past 60,000 years, recites thousands of memorised lines in the course of an evening. The lines are packed with fixed epithets and clichés. The bard is not concerned with originality, but with intonation and delivery: he or she is perfectly attuned to the circumstances of the day, and to the mood and expectations of his or her listeners.

If this were happening 6,000-plus years ago, the poet’s words would in no way have been anchored in visible signs, in text. For the vast majority of the time that human beings have been on Earth, words have had no worldly reality other than the sound made when they are spoken.

As the theorist Walter J Ong pointed out in Orality and Literacy: Technologizing the Word (1982), it is difficult, perhaps even impossible, now to imagine how differently language would have been experienced in a culture of ‘primary orality’. There would be nowhere to ‘look up a word’, no authoritative source telling us the shape the word ‘actually’ takes. There would be no way to affirm the word’s existence at all except by speaking it – and this necessary condition of survival is important for understanding the relatively repetitive nature of epic poetry. Say it over and over again, or it will slip away. In the absence of fixed, textual anchors for words, there would be a sharp sense that language is charged with power, almost magic: the idea that words, when spoken, can bring about new states of affairs in the world. They do not so much describe, as invoke.

As a consequence of the development of writing, first in the ancient Near East and soon after in Greece, old habits of thought began to die out, and certain other, previously latent, mental faculties began to express themselves. Words were now anchored and, though spellings could change from one generation to another, or one region to another, there were now physical traces that endured, which could be transmitted, consulted and pointed to in settling questions about the use or authority of spoken language.

Writing rapidly turned customs into laws, agreements into contracts, genealogical lore into history. In each case, what had once been fundamentally temporal and singular was transformed into something eternal (as in, ‘outside of time’) and general. Even the simple act of making everyday lists of common objects – an act impossible in a primary oral culture – was already a triumph of abstraction and systematisation. From here it was just one small step to what we now call ‘philosophy’.

Homer’s epic poetry, which originates in the same oral epic traditions as those of the Balkans or of West Africa, was written down, frozen, fixed, and from this it became ‘literature’. There are no arguments in the Iliad: much of what is said arises from metrical exigencies, the need to fill in a line with the right number of syllables, or from epithets whose function is largely mnemonic (and thus unnecessary when transferred into writing). Yet Homer would become an authority for early philosophers nonetheless: revealing truths about humanity not by argument or debate, but by declamation, now frozen into text.

Plato would express extreme concern about the role, if any, that poets should play in society. But he was not talking about poets as we think of them: he had in mind reciters, bards who incite emotions with living performances, invocations and channellings of absent persons and beings.

It is not orality that philosophy rejects, necessarily: Socrates himself rejected writing, identifying instead with a form of oral culture. Plato would also ensure the philosophical canonisation of his own mentor by writing down (how faithfully, we don’t know) what Socrates would have preferred to merely say, and so would have preferred to have lost to the wind. Arguably, it is in virtue of Plato’s recording that we might say, today, that Socrates was a philosopher.

Plato and Aristotle, both, were willing to learn from Homer, once he had been written down. And Socrates, though Plato still felt he had to write him down, was already engaged in a sort of activity very different from poetic recitation. This was dialectic: the structured, working-through of a question towards an end that has not been predetermined – even if this practice emerged indirectly from forms of reasoning only actualised with the advent of writing.

The freezing in text of dialectical reasoning, with a heavy admixture (however impure or problematic) of poetry, aphorism and myth, became the model for what, in the European tradition, was thought of as ‘philosophy’ for the next few millennia.

Why are these historical reflections important today? Because what is at stake is nothing less than our understanding of the scope and nature of philosophical enquiry.

The Italian philosopher of history Giambattista Vico wrote in his ScienzaNuova (1725): ‘the order of ideas must follow the order of institutions’. This order was, namely: ‘First the woods, then cultivated fields and huts, next little houses and villages, thence cities, finally academies and philosophers.’ It is implicit for Vico that the philosophers in these academies are not illiterate. The order of ideas is the order of the emergence of the technology of writing.

Within academic philosophy today, there is significant concern arising from how to make philosophy more ‘inclusive’, but no interest at all in questioning Vico’s order, in going back and recuperating what forms of thought might have been left behind in the woods and fields.

The groups ordinarily targeted by philosophy’s ‘inclusivity drive’ already dwell in the cities and share in literacy, even if discriminatory measures often block their full cultivation of it. No arguments are being made for the inclusion of people belonging to cultures that value other forms of knowledge: there are no efforts to recruit philosophers from among Inuit hunters or Hmong peasants.

The practical obstacles to such recruitment from a true cross-section of humanity are obvious. Were it to happen, the simple process of moving from traditional ways of life into academic institutions would at the same time dilute and transform the perspectives that are deserving of more attention. Irrespective of such unhappy outcomes, there is already substantial scholarship on these forms of thought accumulated in philosophy’s neighbouring disciplines – notably history, anthropology, and world literatures – to which philosophers already have access. It’s a literature that could serve as a corrective to the foundational bias, present since the emergence of philosophy as a distinct activity.

As it happens, there are few members of primary oral cultures left in the world. And yet from a historical perspective the great bulk of human experience resides with them. There are, moreover, members of literate cultures, and subcultures, whose primary experience of language is oral, based in storytelling, not argumentation, and that is living and charged, not fixed and frozen. Plato saw these people as representing a lower, and more dangerous, use of language than the one worthy of philosophers.

Philosophers still tend to disdain, or at least to conceive as categorically different from their own speciality, the use of language deployed by bards and poets, whether from Siberia or the South Bronx. Again, this disdain leaves out the bulk of human experience. Until it is eradicated, the present talk of the ideal of inclusion will remain mere lip-service.

Efeitos bifásicos da ayahuasca (Plantando Consciência)

30 de setembro de 2015

Efeitos bifásicos da Ayahuasca

Foi publicado hoje na revista científica PLOS ONE artigo com os resultados de nosso estudo neurocientífico sobre a ayahuasca. Fruto de pouco mais de quatro anos de intenso e dedicado trabalho, a pesquisa foi conduzida na UNIFESP com financiamento da FAPESP, com cooperações na USP, UFABC, Louisiana State University (EUA) e da University of Auckland (Nova Zelândia). Além da colaboração da União do Vegetal que nos forneceu Hoasca para fins de pesquisa, e de 20 bravos(as) psiconautas experientes no uso da bebida amazônica. Nossos(as) voluntários(as) se disponibilizaram a participar de um processo em um ambiente e com uma proposta que difere em muito dos usos tradicionais, e era bastante desafiadora. Beberam ayahuasca num laboratório universitário, sem canto nem palo santo, sem reza, dança ou fogueira, no meio da conturbada metrópole paulista. E tiveram que usar uma touca que gravava a atividade elétrica de seus cérebros continuamente num notebook próximo a elas. Sentadas em uma poltrona confortável, doaram pequenas quantidades de sangue a cada 25 minutos. Apesar de não ter a fundamental condução dos guias, curandeiros, mestres ou maestros, que fazem trabalhos tão importantes quanto a bebida em si, e de tomarem ayahuasca uma pessoa por vez, foram acompanhados com carinho e cuidado pela equipe científica, nunca sendo deixados sozinhos ou desamparados, e sempre com os baldinhos à disposição… Tudo isso em prol da colaboração dos saberes tradicionais com os saberes científicos e tecnológicos.Uma pesquisa desse tipo se justifica por várias razões, desde um entendimento mais profundo sobre nossa resposta fisiológica aos compostos químicos presentes na ayahuasca, que nos fornece dados cruciais sobre potenciais terapêuticos e segurança de uso; até informações mais sofisticadas sobre as relações entre cérebro e consciência, o chamado “hard-problem”. Com os resultados dessa jornada aprofundamos e expandimos o conhecimento sobre os efeitos dos componentes moleculares da bebida sagrada, sobre como nossos corpos recebem estas moléculas e que efeitos elas ajudam a desencadear, especialmente no cérebro. Ao minimizarmos as intervenções biomédicas somente ao estritamente necessário e ao adotarmos uma postura observacional, deixando e encorajando que os voluntários passassem a maior parte do tempo de olhos fechados em estado introspectivo, pudemos revelar uma imagem fascinante sobre os efeitos da ayahuasca no cérebro. Este efeito ocorre em duas fases qualitativamente distintas e este perfil bifásico ajuda a explicar contradições de estudos semelhantes feitos anteriormente por outras equipes. Com isso abrimos mais portas para fascinantes investigações futuras sobre os diversos estados de consciência que podem ser alcançados com a bebida amazônica.

Cerca de uma hora após a ingestão da ayahuasca, ocorreram diminuições das ondas alfa (8 a 12 ciclos por segundo), especialmente no córtex temporo-parietal, com uma certa tendência de lateralização para o hemisfério esquerdo. A segunda fase ocorre cerca de uma hora depois (ou seja, cerca de duas horas após a ingestão) e enquanto as ondas alfa foram retornando a um padrão parecido com o que estava antes da ingestão da ayahuasca, os ritmos gama, de frequências muito altas (30 a 100 ciclos por segundo), se intensificaram por quase todo o córtex cerebral, incluindo o córtex frontal. Estas oscilações elétricas em distintas frequências, que ocorrem perpetuamente e simultaneamente em todo o cérebro, são resultado da complexa interação da atividade de bilhões de células cerebrais. E estão relacionadas com todas as funções do cérebro, inclusive os aspectos psicológicos e os estados de consciência. Por exemplo, durante o sono profundo predomina no córtex cerebral uma frequência lenta, de 1 a 4 ciclos por segundo, chamada delta. Enquanto durante a maioria dos sonhos, predomina a frequência teta (4 a 8 ciclos por segundo). Ao caracterizar as principais mudanças nestas frequências de oscilações neurais avançamos na criação de um mapa neurocientífico sobre o estado de consciência desencadeado pela ingestão de ayahuasca.

Há variadas nuances de interpretação para estes dados (e muitos estudos posteriores que podem ser feitos de acordo com cada interpretação, para testas hipóteses específicas). Mas a minha favorita e que discutimos no artigo é de que o ritmo alfa é resultado de atividades inibitórias no cérebro, e o ritmo gama representa atividade neural crucial para a consciência. Quando fechamos os olhos e temos a sensacao de um campo visual escuro, sem imagens, o ritmo alfa se fortalece nas regiões do cérebro que recebem estímulos vindos dos olhos. Ou seja, quando estamos de olhos fechados não apenas a informação que chega dos olhos está ausente, mas as áreas visuais são inibidas por “centros superiores” do córtex, capazes de modular a atividade de áreas sensoriais. E nós temos a experiência subjetiva de um mundo escuro e de ausência de visão. No caso da ayahuasca, encontramos um enfraquecimento dessa inibição em áreas multisensoriais. Ou seja, regiões que estão envolvidas não só com visão, mas com audição, tato, paladar, olfato e também com sensações corpóreas das mais diversas. Faz sentido portanto que esta diminuição de alfa esteja relacionada com o efeito tão comum de experiência de mais sensações e mais estímulos durante o efeito da ayahuasca quando comparado com o estado ordinário de consciência, incluindo as famosas visões de olhos fechados. Já o acelerado gama está relacionado com o que se chama na neurociência de integração. Enquanto áreas diversas do cérebro estão relacionadas a percepções subjetivas distintas, como os cinco sentidos mencionados acima, nossa experiência consciente é unificada. Essa unificação de atividades neurais em áreas anatomicamente distintas ocorre nas oscilações rápidas na frequência gama, que permitem ao cérebro temporariamente juntar as peças de um complexo quebra cabeças de atividade neural. Esse aumento de gama pode ajudar a explicar porque durante a ayahuasca a percepção de sons e imagens, por exemplo, parece se fundir e criar relações peculiares, não perceptíveis durante a consciência ordinária, quando o cérebro tende a organizar a atividade neural relacionada aos cinco sentidos de maneira parcialmente independente. Essa função do gama em unificar ou integrar informações no cérebro é conhecida de longa data, pelo menos desde a obra pioneira do cientista Chileno Francisco Varela. E foi observada em dois indíviduos após tomarem ayahuasca em trabalho do antropólogo Luis Eduardo Luna e colaboradores há uma década. Ao confirmarmos os dados de Luna e colaboradores com nova e mais rigorosa metodologia, com mais pessoas e ao detectarmos a combinação destes efeitos com as reduções em alfa, abrimos portas importantíssimas no entendimento não só dos estados não-ordinários de consciência, mas da teoria neurocientifica sobre a consciência como um todo. Um exemplo é uma teoria proposta recentemente sobre a ação dos psicodélicos que sugere que uma das características principais do cérebro durante o efeito de psicodélicos sejam intensificações do gama. Para Andrew Gallimore, do Japão, que se baseia na influente teoria da informacao integrada, ou IIT (integrated information theory), a mais promissora teoria neurocientífica sobre a consciência, a expansão da consciência com psicodélicos é mesmo possível dentro de uma perspectiva neurocientífica, e provavelmente depende do ritmo gama. Esta expansão da consciência inclui a percepção subjetiva de mais conteúdo, de maior intensidade, incluindo fusões entre os sentidos e possivelmente a experiência subjetiva de intensidades e qualidades não perceptíveis durante a consciência ordinária, como cores mais vívidas e brilhantes e estados emocionais mais intensos do que jamais experienciados fora do estado psicodélico. O gama também tem papel fundamental na teoria da consciência proposta pelo matemático Sir Roger Penrose e pelo anestesiologista Stuart Hameroff. Segundo a teoria deles, oscilações na faixa de 40 ciclos por segundo seriam importantes ao permitir reverberações menores e muito mais aceleradas nos microtúbulos, uma rede de fibras e filamentos que percorre todas as células do nosso corpo – e do cérebro.

Ademais de caracterizar as oscilações e regiões corticais mais importantes no processo neural relacionado à modificação da consciência durante a ayahuasca, fizemos coletas periódicas de sangue para quantificar os princípios ativos da ayahuasca e seus metabólitos. E encontramos que durante a primeira fase a concentração da DMT e da harmina estavam próximas do máximo, sendo que na segunda fase acontecem os picos de harmalina e tetrahidroharmina. Com uma análise estatística sofisticada e inédita, desenvolvida especialmente para este estudo, demonstramos que este efeito bifásico no cérebro esta relacionado à concentração sanguínea de vários componentes do chá. Isto expande a visão científica predominante que foca apenas na famosa DMT. De acordo com este modelo, o papel do cipó é apenas de inibir a digestão da DMT. Mas “ayahuasca” é um dos muitos nomes não só da bebida, mas do cipó jagube ou mariri, catalogado nos anais científicos como Banisteriopsis caapi. Isto revela que, para os povos tradicionais, é o cipó a planta mais importante. E de fato há preparações de ayahuasca feitas somente com o cipó, sem qualquer outra planta. Mas na farmacologia esse quadro foi invertido, dando-se ênfase na psicoatividade da DMT apenas, que não vem do cipó, mas de outras plantas que frequentemente são adicionadas no preparo da bebida, como a rainha no Brasil e Peru (Psychotria viridis) ou a chagropanga na Colômbia (Dyplopteris cabrerana). Mas nossa análise com 10 moléculas (DMT, NMT e DMT-NO; Harmina e harmol; Harmalina e harmalol; THH e THH-OH e também o metabólito serotonérgico IAA) revelou associações importantes entre níveis plasmáticos de DMT, harmina, harmalina e tetraidroharmina, bem como alguns metabólitos como a DMT-NO, e os efeitos cerebrais em alfa e gama em momentos distintos da experiência. Revelamos portanto que a psicoatividade da ayahuasca não pode ser totalmente explicada apenas pelas concentrações de DMT, dando um passo importante para reaproximar o saber científico dos saberes tradicionais.

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Descobrimos ainda que a concentração de harmalina (e apenas de harmalina) está correlacionada com o momento em que os voluntários(as) vomitaram. Ou seja, a harmalina desempenha um papel fundamental tanto no cérebro, estando relacionada a intensificação das ondas gama, mas também nos efeitos periféricos da ayahuasca, como o vômito. Isso reforça a idéia de que o vômito tem relações importantes com a experiência psicológica, sendo talvez mais apropriado chamá-lo de purga, termo que reforça a idéia de que ocorre uma associação entre físico e psicológico neste momento da experiência. Esses resultados sobre a harmalina também dão nova importância para as pesquisas pioneiras de Claudio Naranjo, terapeuta Chileno que foi um dos primeiros a estudar ayahuasca desde um ponto de vista médico-científico, nos anos 60. A proposta de Naranjo, de que a harmalina era o principal componente psicoativo da ayahuasca foi, entretanto, quase que totalmente esquecida em prol do foco na DMT a partir dos anos 80. Outro fator importante contra a proposta de Naranjo é que as concentrações de harmalina na ayahuasca são em geral abaixo das doses de harmalina que, sozinha, desencadeiam efeitos psicoativos nítidos, conforme relato subjetivo das pessoas que ingeriram harmalina nos estudos de Naranjo. Mas nunca foi testado o efeito da harmalina combinada com a harmina e a tetraidroharmina, como ocorre na ayahuasca. E então nossos resultados reforçam a idéia de que a harmalina também pode ter contribuições importantes no efeito psicoativo da ayahuasca quando em combinação com as outras beta-carbolinas vindas do cipó. Interessantemente, em quase todos os casos a purga ocorreu após a primeira fase, quando os níveis de DMT estão próximos do máximo que atingem no sangue. Como a elevação da concentração de harmalina no sangue é mais lenta que da DMT e da harmina, vomitar pouco interfere nos efeitos da primeira fase e nas concentrações destas duas moléculas, e ajuda a explicar porque mesmo quem vomita rápido pode ter experiências fortes e profundas. Mas vomitar potencialmente interfere nas concentrações de tetraidroharmina, que é a molécula cujas concentrações sobem mais lentamente, e pode permanecer em circulação por alguns dias, dependendo da capacidade de metabolização de cada indivíduo.

Importante notar ainda que o perfil bifásico foi observado com ingestão de apenas um copo (mas com uma dose grande). Mas sabemos que nos usos rituais é muito frequente os participantes tomarem mais de uma dose, com intervalo de uma hora ou mais. É possível então que nestes casos ocorram variadas combinações de efeitos, como por exemplo a segunda fase de uma primeira dose (aumento de gama) coincidir com a primeira fase de uma segunda dose (diminuição de alfa). Isso potencialmente geraria estados cerebrais (e por correlação, estados de consciência) não observados na pesquisa com apenas uma dose. Isto ajuda a entender porque muitas pessoas relatam que a segunda dose é sempre uma “caixinha de surpresas”, e não apenas a intensificação ou prolongação dos efeitos da primeira toma. Ao depender do perfil metabólico de cada pessoa, do tamanho de cada dose, da proporção destas moléculas na bebida e do intervalo entre elas, pode-se atingir outros estados mesclados entre as duas fases observadas na pesquisa. Some-se a isto as influências ambientais, psicológicas, motivacionais e espirituais e temos uma prática de exploração da consciência que não cabe numa resposta simples e singular sobre qual “o efeito” da ayahuasca.

Do ponto de vista neurocientífico, estas possíveis combinações são muito intrigantes, porque relações entre as frequências alfa e gama no córtex parietal e no frontal estão envolvidas em processos de reavaliação psicológica e emocional. Ou seja, quando fazemos certas formas de introspecção que resultam em ressignificação de eventos emocionais de nossas vidas, estas áreas do cérebro se comunicam através de oscilações elétricas nestas duas faixas de frequência. E estas mesmas frequências e áreas cerebrais estão envolvidas em processos criativos de resolução de problemas. Ou seja, através de nossa pesquisa, a neurociência começa a convergir com o saber ancestral ao reafirmar o potencial da ayahuasca em nutrir a criatividade e o autoconhecimento, facilitando formas de terapia focadas no potencial de cada indíviduo em crescer e se desenvolver de maneira consciente.

Para saber mais, confira abaixo minha palestra na World Ayahuasca Confrence, em Ibiza ano passado (disponível com legendas em português e inglês). Ou ainda a mais antiga “Ayahuasca e as ondas cerebrais“, realizada no Brasil no início deste projeto. Ou se você quer mesmo mergulhar fundo, acesse gratuitamente o artigo científico na íntegra.

Referência: Schenberg EE, Alexandre JFM, Filev R, Cravo AM, Sato JR, Muthukumaraswamy SD, et al. (2015) Acute Biphasic Effects of Ayahuasca. PLoS ONE 10(9): e0137202. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0137202

 

Profetas das chuvas e a ecologia (Diário do Nordeste)

00:00 · 17.01.2016

Participar do XX Encontro dos Profetas da Chuva foi uma experiência única. Foi uma manhã de grande aprendizado em Quixadá, pois tive uma verdadeira “aula magna” sobre a sabedoria popular camponesa e a cultura sertaneja. Grandes intelectuais da atualidade, como Edgard Morin (Centre Nationale de Recherche Scientifique de Paris), da corrente do pensamento complexo, ou Boaventura Santos (Universidade de Coimbra), defensor da ecologia dos saberes, apreciariam muito a experiência. Os relatos das previsões guardam uma riqueza e diversidade nos seus métodos.

A maioria dos profetas é idosa e, portanto, afirma que suas experiências têm, no mínimo, 40 anos de aplicação. Seus parâmetros de análise se baseiam nos astros, nas nuvens, na observação da fauna e da flora, com testes da pedra de sal em datas específicas e nos seus próprios sentidos. Alguns se autodenominam cientistas populares ou da natureza, pois suas previsões partem de uma rigorosa observação cotidiana da mesma. É importante destacar que a maioria, além do vínculo com a terra, é também poeta e há até alguns escritores.

Que lições os profetas da chuva podem dar aos cientistas?

Fazendo o diálogo com Morin, podemos adiantar que eles nos ajudam a pensar de forma complexa. A ciência moderna, a título de simplificar para captar o real, muitas vezes adota práticas de recortar tanto seu objeto de análise que acaba ficando com sua análise limitada.

Não é fácil controlar tantas variáveis como as envolvidas no clima, mas vejam como os profetas lidam com vários indicadores. É evidente que existem limitações em todas as abordagens, tanto a científica quanto a popular. Nesse momento é oportuna a prática da ecologia dos saberes. Ela não nega os avanços da ciência moderna, mas não trata o conhecimento popular como algo inferior ou folclórico.

Ambos cumprem papéis muito importantes na nossa sociedade e o desafio é fazer esses conhecimentos dialogarem em prol de um mundo melhor. Será que existe possibilidade de complementaridade nos prognósticos meteorológicos científicos com os dos Profetas da Chuva? Em vez de competição haverá espaço para um diálogo de saberes onde existe um respeito e uma relação horizontal, cujo objetivo maior é orientar os agricultores a encontrar o momento certo para plantar?

A Fiocruz decidiu priorizar, em seu âmbito nacional, o tema da relação água e saúde para ações de pesquisa, formação e cooperação. No Ceará, um de seus focos também será o de fomentar o desenvolvimento de tecnologias socioambientais de cuidados com a água voltado para o convívio com a seca. Está sendo elaborada uma proposta de mestrado profissional sobre saúde, saneamento e direitos humanos em rede com as universidades públicas do Nordeste e o desenvolvimento de linhas de pesquisa para a produção de conhecimento que promovam esse diálogo de saberes. Recebemos uma homenagem no encontro e assumimos a honraria como um símbolo de nosso compromisso com essa causa tão importante para o povo do sertão. Finalmente, tivemos uma manhã animada, regada de alegria e esperança de que este ano vai ser possível plantar e colher no sertão do Ceará. Para alguns até com fartura, pois estamos vivendo a pior seca dos timos 50 anos no Nordeste. A última profecia terminou com um canto de um profeta: e naquele momento, literalmente, começou a chover.

FERNANDO FERREIRA CARNEIRO

Biólogo e pós-doutor em sociologia

What Became of America’s Water-Cure Towns? (City Lab/The Atlantic)

The 19th-century craze for “taking the waters” produced hundreds of spa towns across America. Many fell on hard times. Now some are looking to revive.

HENRY GRABAR

 

Nov 16, 2015

Image Library of Congress

Relaxing at White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, c. 1888 (Library of Congress)

It’s easy to imagine the burgeoning business of “wellness” as a product of our time, sold on narcissism and exhaustion from punishing work schedules.

In fact, the wellness craze has deep roots. Beginning in the middle of the 19th century, the leisure class grew infatuated with a particular type of healthy getaway: the water cure. By the 1850s, a constellation of spa villages had emerged across 20 states. By 1930, the country had over 2,000 hot- and cold-spring resorts.

Neither the practice nor the result of the treatment—which evolved out of a newfound enthusiasm for bathing—was strictly defined. Hydropathy encompassed everything from a spell in the tub to highly regimented procedures supervised by water doctors with stopwatches. According to its boosters, who were some of the most distinguished medical men of the day, water could cure everything from hiccups to cancer (and even hydrophobia!).Renowned water-lovers included John Roebling, the engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge, who liked to wrap himself in a damp, cold sheet, and most famously, President Franklin Roosevelt, whose interest in taking the waters long predated his visits to Warm Springs, Georgia.

Most of these “procedures” could have been performed at public baths, or at suburban facilities like the Harrogate spa, four miles out of Philadelphia. But part of the lure was always to get out of the city. For one thing, hydropathy was cast as a cure for the peculiar ailments of the well-off urbanite—a remedy for bourgeois decadence, to heal, as Carl Smith writes in City Water, City Life, the ill effects of the “overly refined life characteristic of cities.” (The equivalent of a modern farm vacation, maybe.)

“Taking the Waters at Saratoga”—a Harper’s cover in 1890 (Yates Collection of Saratogiana, Skidmore College)

For another thing, as Thomas Chambers suggests in Drinking the Waters, “taking the waters” was simply an excuse to have fun. And so a vast network of scenic spa towns emerged along the railroads. Built around grand bathhouses, they offered a much more social experience than bathing at home.

Some of these places, like Saratoga Springs, New York, or Palm Springs, California, blossomed into small cities, with diverse leisure cultures and other economic engines. But most fell into a state of prolonged decline in the 20th century. The trains stopped running; the visitors stopped arriving; the grand hotels closed, collapsed, or burned.

Not surprisingly, the perceived medical value of hydropathy dropped after the discovery of penicillin and the polio vaccine. But there were other factors at work, too. Bathing, like other old-time leisure pursuits, simply wasn’t cool anymore. Americans had taken up other, more exhilarating physical activities. And the automobile and the airplane opened up exciting new vacation possibilities.

But some spa towns are turning around, finding renewed interest in their quaint charms—and their water.

Hot Springs c. 1888 (Library of Congress)

The Buckstaff today (Zack Frank / Shutterstock.com)

Hot Springs, Arkansas, is one of those places. A town of 35,000 about halfway between Memphis and Dallas, Hot Springs was once a major destination for high rollers from Chicago and St. Louis.

In 1946, visitors took 649,000 baths on Bathhouse Row, the parade of elegant spas abutting the main drag. By 1979, that number had fallen to just 79,000. Retail occupancy downtown in the 1980s was below 10 percent. All but one of the bathhouses closed between 1962 and 1985.

That surviving establishment, the Buckstaff, continues to offer an old-time water-cure to visitors. But it’s no longer the only game in town: In 2007, investors rehabilitated the neighboring Quapaw into a luxe modern spa. Three years ago, the Superior spa reopened as a brewery, producing the world’s only thermal beer.

The number of visitors to Hot Springs is steadily rising, and the retail occupancy rate is now over 90 percent. Historic architecture is no small part of its charm. “It’s totally a nostalgic story,” says Cole McCaskill, the downtown development director for the Hot Springs Metro Partnership. But, he adds, the city has done a good job diversifying its water-tourism offerings: A stay in Hot Springs now might include a trip to a nearby water park or aquarium.

Earlier visitors would have supplemented their health vacation with a little gambling, or a visit to an ostrich or alligator farm. This was typical, Chambers explains. “People wanted to find ways to have leisure, but culture told them they couldn’t do anything wasteful or not productive. You could say you were going to the springs for your health, but you were really going there to try and find a spouse or gamble.”

The Vanderbilts moved on years ago from Sharon Springs, New York, one of a handful of smaller, quieter resort towns west of Saratoga Springs. Now small-town appeal has drawn investors to revitalize the bathing industry there. A Korean investment group is restoring a long-dormant spa complex for Korean tourists, which has coincided with a general sense of civic renewal.

“We’re thrilled they’re doing something,” says Ron Ketelson, a California transplant who purchased the nearby Roseboro Hotel last year. “The bathhouse is being saved.”

For Ketelson, New York’s spa-town past represents something more personal than moth-balled grandeur. Not long after he purchased the Roseboro, Ketelson found an old postcard revealing that—unbeknownst to him—his own grandfather, suffering from breathing problems, had come to take the waters in Sharon Springs.

Hatfield The Rainmaker (The Journal of San Diego History)

The Journal of San Diego History
SAN DIEGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY QUARTERLY
Winter 1970, Volume 16, Number 4 
Linda Freischlag, Editorial Assistant

HATFIELD THE RAINMAKER

By Thomas W. Patterson

Images from this Article

Oh Mister Hatfield, you’ve been good to us:
You’ve made it rain in ways promiscuous!
From Saugus down to San Diego’s Bay
They bless you for the rains of yesterday.
But Mister Hatfield, listen now;
Make us this vow:
Oh, please, kind sir, don’t let it rain on Monday!And other doings full of fun and glee
For New Year’s Day are planned abundantly
From Saugus down to San Diego’s Bay
And they will bless you on tomorrow’s day,
Great moistener, if you will listen now
And make this vow:
Oh, please, kind sir, don’t let it rain on Monday!*

* At the conclusion of the drouth-ridden year 1904 the citizens of the Los Angeles area, who had raised money to hire him, were sing­ing praises of the rainmaker Charley Hatfield, their savior. He had achieved success. The rains had come—and come—and come.    As the New Year approached, however, an ugly thought crept into the minds of some o/ the populace. What if Charley Hatfield made it rain on the day of that stupendous event, the Tournament of Roses Parade? This anon­ymous piece of doggerel, appealing to him for charity on Monday, January 2, the date of the parade, appeared in several newspapers.    Evidently the plea was heard. Although it rained earlier in the day and still sprinkled where Charley was working five miles from the parade, no rain fell during the procession.

I. WHOSE DISCIPLE?

The best remembered facts about Hatfield The Rainmaker are that when he ministered to the sky it rained tor­rents and when he tried to collect $10,000 from the City of San Diego the mayor and council welshed.

There will always be room for a query: Was the rain really a coinci­dence? Did he really believe what he claimed, or was he a fellow with a knowing wink?

Some wrote delightedly that he was a scoundrel. Others, especially David Starr Jordan, wrote as though they thought him a cruel fraud against whom the public needed protection.

Nobody ever got behind his mask, and, in fact it may never have been a mask. The actual record of Hatfield’s activities explodes some commonly held truths, but the strangest facts and coincidences persist. The record makes no real headway against the legend.

Charles Mallory Hatfield got into the public’s attention when the Los Angeles Times on February 2, 1904, misspelling his name, said:

Charles Hadfield, expert rain manufacturer, has been sent out by a number of South Spring Street merchants to bring down the recreant showers. For the consideration of $50 Hadfield has planted his instruments in the foothill district near Pasadena and with a new process of chemical evaporation promises abundant moisture in five days. The magician holds himself responsible for the abundant rain in San Diego County late last spring, and says he has tried 17 times, scoring only one fail­ure. Barnett & Gude, H. E. Memory, H. G. Ackley and others stand sponsor to this com­mander of nature.

It was no credulous account, but rain­makers were a discredited lot. They had had their vogue in the Midwest in the 1880’s and 1890’s. The ancient world had known a theory that noxious fumes, such as the stench of bodies after a major battle, caused rain. After artil­lery became a significant part of war, Benvenuto Cellini wrote of explosions causing rain. This theory lasted several centuries and explained, to the satisfac­tion of some, the storm that handicapped the Spanish Armada and the mud at Waterloo. It was Americanized after the Civil War by a man named Edward Powers,who wrote War and The Weather contending that most of the Civil War battles caused rain. Then there was a belief that prairie fires caused rain and that the Chicago fire drenched itself, although tardily.

Congress, pressed by influential senators who owned Western land and hoped there might be something to it, spent over $20,000 testing the explosion theory by some spectacular Texas balloon busting and cannonading, supervised by a flamboyant character named Robert St. George Dyrenforth. The explosion theory faded out after that, but the fume theory returned. A whole school of rainmakers practiced in the Midwest, each with a secret formula.

The biggest names among the fume men were those of Frank Melbourne, known as the Australian Wizard, and G. B. Jewell, who operated originally under auspices of the Rock Island Rail­road and practiced from a specially equipped boxcar. These men never oper­ated in California, but in 1899 one of Jewell’s disciples sought a rainmaking contract at Pasadena. In 1900 another persuaded a group of San Diegans to pay the cost of sending aloft the fumes of zinc dissolved in sulphuric acid, and this was described as the great Jewell’s secret formula.

There had been three terrible years of drouth at the end of the century, drying up irrigation canals in the Central Valley and leaving Southern California as brown in winter as in summer. Now, in January 1904, no rain had fallen since early December and precious little since the previous spring. Matters were so bad that Catholic and Protestant churches appealed through the newspapers for a day of prayer for rain on Sunday, January 31.

In the brown Los Angeles hinterland no one was far removed from the tra­ditional grazing economy. Jotham Bixby, the big cattleman of Long Beach, com­plained in the public prints: “This is the first time since 1872 that we have not had any green grass at this time of year.” Those who looked far ahead were talking, quietly as yet, about a prepos­terously long aqueduct from Owens River Valley, but for the present there was water in the city mains, as far as they reached.

Hatfield set up shop two days after the day of prayer. In another two days there was rain in the northern part of the state, but forecaster George E. Franklin of the Los Angeles office of the U. S. Weather Bureau predicted there would be none for Los Angeles. He was wrong. At 6 o’clock that evening it started raining heavily, continuing off and on for the rest of the night and most of the following week. It rained well over an inch downtown, more in the foothills.

Franklin explained that it was the tail-end of the Northern California storm that had come over the Tehachapi. Still there was the coincidence that it had followed quickly after Hatfield’s pre­sumed activity.

The newspapers had almost forgotten the prayers as a possible cause. All of them saw fit to mention Hatfield and his manipulations, but the Herald left no bases uncovered, saying:

In answer to the prayers of the church, as a result of Rainmaker Hatfield’s manipulation or from natural causes, rain began falling last evening….

The coincidence was so interesting that the papers did not drop it for several days. Although they could not find Hatfield, the Herald located friends who believed he set up a tank on a high point near Newhall. They understood he mixed chemicals and sent vapor into the clouds, requiring not less than three hours or more than five days to bring rain. This last was stressed in all reports—five days, not more.

The papers also learned that Hatfield was a young man and a sewing machine salesman. The Times located the family home in Inglewood, but the rainmaker was not there and the family did not know or would not tell where he was. The Times photographed his mother and printed her statement:

The people’s prayers for rain have been answered through my son. For five years he has studied alone against prejudices. His determination is simply marvelous. Some divine power must aid him.

The rainmaker’s base of operation was neither at Pasadena nor Newhall. It was midway between the two at the foot of the present New York Avenue in La Crescenta. There in the brush coun­try at the base of the mountains a tower some 20 feet high had been erected, surmounted by a platform 10 feet square. What appears in photographs to resemble a fume hood, somewhat narrower than those over stoves or laboratory cookers, protruded several feet upward from the platform. Beside it was a small pedestal surmounted by a narrow can—a rain gauge. At the base of the tower, Charley Hatfield and his young brother Paul camped in a tent.

Hatfield might have been seen, but for the isolation of the place, first helping to build the tower, then climbing up and down the ladder carrying loads. For hours at a time he might have been seen busy with something near the fume hood, out of the line of vision of anyone watch­ing from the ground nearby.

He was 28, thin and of medium height. His hair was thinning slightly in front and receding at the corners. His face was narrow and the impression was sharpened by a long, thin nose. He wore a business suit as though he were in an office or ringing a doorbell in search of a sewing machine prospect. Before he was long in camp his suit had sadly lost its press and sometimes was soaked with rain.

Paul, a boy of 17, was working equally hard—fetching, carrying, tending the camp and caring for the horses.

An elderly Englishman named Metcalf had a cabin a quarter mile away from which he tended a bee apiary. When he called at the tower to pay his respects and possibly to promote a conversation, Charley and Paul were too busy for more than a casual greeting. Later, after a walk, they returned to find Met­calf inside their tent. Charley promptly ordered him out. When Metcalf protested that his intentions were friendly and sociable, in keeping with Western custom, Paul leveled the shotgun and commanded, with all the authority a youth could muster, “Get out of here!”

A week after they arrived, with the rain stopped, Charley and Paul disman­tled the tower and stowed the lumber and some heavy trunks and the tent into their wagon. They drove southeasterly, following the dirt road that is now Honolulu Avenue, to Verdugo Road, then turned onto Colorado Avenue where they stopped at the little grocery operated by Joe Olivas. Charley bought a  Times and for the first time saw himself dis­cussed in a news story. Despite the doubting tone, it did report that Hatfield had gone forth and that rain had fallen. They drove on to Inglewood.

II. THE SEWING MACHINE SALESMAN

Charley and Paul went back to their routine at the Robert B. Moorhead Agency, dealer in New Home Sewing Machines, 349 South Spring Street. Within the year reporters would be seeking the rainmaker in greater ex­citement than ever, but in the spring, summer and fall of 1904 he was back in the business where he had been recognized as a young man with a big future. His salary then, or so he said a few months later, was $125 a month, a very respectable figure in 1904.

He was city manager, supervising other salesmen including Paul. For a brief interlude their father, Stephen E. Hatfield, was also working in the office of his old friend Bob Moorhead, who was one of the sponsors of Hatfield’s efforts to produce rain at La Crescenta.

Stephen Hatfield had owned a sewing machine agency in Fort Scott, Kansas. He sold it in 1875, the year Charley was born, then moved with his family to Minneapolis where he built homes and traded in real estate. Late in 1886 they moved to San Diego, then enjoying a boom as the original Pacific Coast terminus of the Santa Fe railroad. Among his San Diego operations was the building of three substantial homes at Sixteenth and Broadway, one of which the family occupied for a time.

The Hatfield brothers all learned to take sewing machine heads apart, adjust or repair them. Nevertheless, for the greater part of his economic life the elder Hatfield engaged in building and trading property.

Charley and his elder brother, Stephen G., were born in Fort Scott. Paul and the only daughter, Phoebe, were born in Minneapolis. Joel, the youngest, was born in San Diego. Young Charley, aged 11, became Newsboy No. 9 for Hanley’s News-stand at Fifth and F Streets, sell­ing the San Diego Union. He made big money when Gen. John A. Logan, founder of the GAR, died on December 26, 1886. Charley sold 65 newspapers bearing that headline.

The San Diego boom fell off after 1886 when the Santa Fe reached Los Angeles, opening its rate-cutting war with the Southern Pacific. Los Angeles then ex­perienced its wildest real estate boom while San Diego felt cruelly sold out.

The Hatfields acquired ten acres at Melrose and Vermont Avenues, far out west and north of Los Angeles, in 1890. The beach cities farther west were well established by then. Hollywood was only an unsuccessful subdivision and other in-between areas were beginning to acquire a scattering of people in place of cattle and sheep. The Hatfields with their imposing suburban house, sur­rounded by a young orchard, were the second family to live in what was then called Cahuenga Valley. In 1893 they sold and moved to Mission Road in South Pasadena and from there to Pasadena. In that area Charley finished his formal schooling by attending high school. There also, filled with the nation’s surge of patriotic fervor and notwithstanding a Quaker background, Charley tried to enlist for the 1898 war with Spain. He was rejected as too thin to be a soldier.

By that time he was a full-time salesman, but he had a consuming side interest. In the pursuit of it he haunted the Pasadena and Los Angeles public libraries, pouring over tables of rainfall statistics and probably reading popular disputations about the science ­discredited rainmakers. He was im­pressed most, according to his later recollections, by a book named  Elementary Meteorology by the Harvard professor of geology and science popularizer, William Morris Davis.

In later years, Hatfield repeatedly gave his reason for dedicating himself to rainmaking. He said he was prompted by the terrible years of drouth near the end of the century. In fact, drouth had been chronic since the mid-nineties despite occasional local floods and pas­sable seasons. The suffering was not confined to those who lived on farms or herded grazing animals. It reached into business, town and family life.

Hatfield denied that his rainmaking method was akin to any other, old-time or contemporary. Nevertheless he was well acquainted with the big rainmaking names of the past. He was familiar with Edward Powers’ War and the Weather—The Artificial Production of Rain, which served as the chief inspiration to that movement. He would have known of the publicized efforts of the G. B. Jewell disciple, W B. Hughes, to secure a contract from Pasadena in 1899. Secretary Frank Wiggins of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce rejected Hughes’ offer to work for a fee of $5,000.

Hatfield often told how he first tried his own theories. The Hatfield family had taken up residence in 1902 on a ranch in Gopher Canyon at Bonsall in northern San Diego County. Charley re­mained a resident of Los Angeles, but he performed his first rainmaking from the top of the windmill tower on the ranch. Its use might have been sug­gested by earlier towers in Europe from which explosions were set off.

Later there were reports that Hatfield himself had set off explosions at Bon­sall and the reports were to persist for years. He always denied it and the stories lack confirmation. One account persisting in many versions quotes Fred Hanson, a longtime friend of the Hat­fields. It relates that Mrs. Hatfield mysteriously referred to explosions and said that some day her son would be a great man. Hanson, in a letter in 1958, said he could recall hearing nothing about explosions. Charley consistently said he evaporated a fluid from shallow pans.

There is no doubt, however, that Mrs. Hatfield thought her second son would be a great man, and later that he had indeed become great. Charley had a self-assured rather than a boastful manner. More than one acquaintance of his early rainmaking years, Fred Han­son included, recalled later that he had an almost religious zeal. Not that he claimed special dispensation or higher calling. He did have the attitude of a man with a mission. Those who could not be convinced, he allowed to go in error rather than labor to correct them. He never condemned.

The Hatfields were proud of their lineage, which was traceable for some 300 years. They carried their Quaker beliefs into manners and morality. They were in firm disagreement with one forbear, Elder Elias Hicks who founded the Hicksite sect of Quakers. They favored the orthodox outlook.

Quakers, especially orthodox ones, held tenaciously to the doctrine of in­dividuality. The teachings of George Fox, founding theorist, were strong with the Reformation spirit, decrying a con­ventional authority and proclaiming the wisdom of the individual’s own inter­pretation of the Scriptures.

To be sure, a Quaker was expected to bring every revelation of a religious character to meeting and submit it to his peers, who might dissuade him. But Quakers also set themselves apart in manners and dress, resisting easier ways of those not subject to the disci­pline. Some carried the doctrine of individuality into secular matters, with a strong sense of being right. Certain tough-minded Quakers had reputations for inpervious individualistic views on politics, science, commerce or the state of the nation.

Young Charley conducted himself in the business world with application, diligence and neatness becoming a gentleman and a Quaker. His suit was always pressed, his linen fresh and his manner alert as he went about his selling. While the practice of business could be combative and deceptive, Charley sold an honest product in an approved way. On the other hand he knew that business does not operate by Sunday school rules. Fred Hanson once asked him what he did when a house was posted “No Peddlers or Agents” and when the woman of the house inquired if he could not read. Charley replied that he would say, “Yes, but I don’t believe in signs,” and added that he had sold more than one sewing machine following just such an introduction.

The elder Hatfield wore the tradi­tional broad Quaker hat to church. The Hatfields attended traditional meetings where men and women sat on opposite sides. Charley attended regularly as a boy. Although he was seldom seen in church after 30, his strong sense of being right remained with him.

There was no public knowledge of Charley’s doings on Bonsall tower and probably there was no surprise at sev­eral small showers that fell in parts of the coastal region of San Diego County in April and May of 1902. In July, how­ever, .92 of an inch fell in San Diego. That was rare, although old-timers know that if it rains at all in July in Southern California it’s likely to rain hard. Charley later said it was his work, based on his own theories, that caused all the spring and summer rains in the coastal San Diego area.

Before he took his first paid engage­ment early in 1904, Charley built, with Paul’ s help, at least three other towers for experimentation. The first and most successful, according to Charley, was near the mouth of Big Tujunga Canyon, November 6 through November 9, 1902. He said rains of three inches or more fell along the west-east line from La Crescenta through Pasadena, and 1.95 inches fell on downtown Los Angeles. Another higher tower was erected in Big Tujunga, near the present dam, and still another was at Inglewood, the Hat­field family home after Bonsall. At Inglewood he claimed to have induced a modest .43 inch in September, 1903….

III. WHIDDEN WAS A DOUBTER

Between the years 1903 in Bonsall where he performed his first rainmaking experiments and 1912 when he was in­vited by a group of ranchers in northern San Diego County to break a severe drouth, Charley Hatfield’s activities carried him as far north as Alaska and all through central California. He achieved much success in the San Joa­quin Valley “West Side” and in that part of the West Side between Los Banos at the foot of Pacheco Pass and Westley, some 40 miles to the north—including the towns of Volta, Gustine, Newman, Crows Landing and Patterson.

In 1907 Oregon’s grain farmers called upon him for help. His reputation spread into Texas, Idaho, Arizona, Kansas and other areas west of the Mississippi River.

Still he never was far in heart from San Diego, for after Inglewood, in 1903, the elder Hatfields bought a home and olive grove at Fallbrook, ten miles north of the Bonsall Gopher Canyon ranch where Charley had experimented in 1902. A few years later he married a San Diego girl.

The year 1912 found him living in Fallbrook, near San Diego. He had two assignments during that time, at least one of which paid him more than he received for his most successful efforts in the San Joaquin Valley West Side. The first one was at Hemet, in northern San Diego County. The second was near Carlsbad, Texas, whose grain farmers, hearing of Charley’s success at Hemet, wired him to come to Carlsbad to assist with their cotton crop farming, which drouth had hampered.

The invitation to make rain at Hemet came from Tommy Rawson, dominant personality among dry farmers. Several Rawson brothers together farmed some 15,000 acres. The initiative may have come from W. P. Whittier, the San Francisco investor and sportsman who founded Hemet. The two publicly an­nounced men serving on the committee with Rawson were W. Alger Fast, manager of several of Whittier’s Hemet enterprises, and John Shaver, longtime member of the county board of super­visors. Shaver lived in San Jacinto, the smaller and older town of the valley, where he ran a hardware store.

Up to March 1 it was an extremely dry season at most points in Southern California. Charley, at Hemet, February 21, in negotiation with Rawson, called to mind the great moistening of Los Angeles in 1904-05.

“Will you guarantee to produce rain?” asked the Hemet News reporter, to which Charley replied, “I certainly will, or it won’t cost the people a cent.”

He had prepared a draft contract, the heading of which put squarely the impression he wanted to convey: “Four Inches of Rain for Four Thousand Dol­lars. No Rain, No Pay.” In it he agreed to set up a “rain precipitation and at­traction plant” and to operate it from March 1 to May 1. For each inch of rain falling during that time he was to receive $1,000, up to four inches. There would be no pay for any additional amount. Three gauges, one in Menifee Valley, one near San Jacinto and the third at the Hatfield tower were to govern the payoff. Signers were obtained to underwrite the $4,000.

Charley returned to Hemet March 1. A. K. Whidden, county bee inspector, chanced to meet him in a lumberyard. It was already raining, a circumstance that scoffers assumed would be em­barrassing to a rainmaker who hadn’t yet started working.

“I wish I was out under this with my apparatus,” Charley said, and Whidden asked, “What could you do?” Charley answered, “You may get three inches from this storm. I could give you three and a half.” This was Whidden’s recol­lection, in which he said he might not be exactly right as to the figures but was sure of the substance of the re­marks. Whidden was a doubter, recalling that Charley “could talk more and say less than anyone I had ever known.”

Whittier’s carpenters built the tower at Little Lake, three miles southeast of the town. An inch had fallen before Charley proclaimed himself at work Despite the unassisted start of the rain and Whidden’s skepticism, Hemet har­bored few publicly identified doubters. The News reported the rainmaking and the rain extensively, without a sour note. As to the rain itself, it was like Esper­anza or one of the bigger years at Crows Landing.

Again the coincidence was repeated that rain elsewhere in Southern Cali­fornia was only average or less. Poor Crows Landing had a bad year. Hemet got 3.12 inches in April compared to a 40-year average for that month of 2.5. After his start of operations, Hatfield got credit for more than seven inches. In summation the News reported:

So well pleased are the ranchers in Mr. Hatfield’s work here that he has been prevailed upon to store his apparatus in Hemet until next season, when he will likely come back and take a bigger contract…Mr. Hatfield has had 15 contracts…and he has not failed in one instance…(his theory) is proving beyond doubt that rain can be produced.

Charley did not return, possibly be­cause Hemet was not troubled by drouth in the next several seasons. The recep­tacles he left behind were still on hand at the Rawson ranch in 1960, when a series of dry years and an ultra-dry one caused old-timers to recall the Hatfield visit.

Close on the heels of Hemet, from June 10 through July 22, the brothers practiced the art with the aid of three towers alongside a slough of the Concho River in Water Valley near Carlsbad, Texas.

Among Paul’s troubles as a commis­sary chief at that location were the opossums that invaded the larder, reaching even the ham and bacon hang­ing on wire from the tent ridgepole, and Texas ants three quarters of an inch long.

Carlsbad, Texas is one of the Hatfield engagements where the published recol­lections, in spite of Hatfield’s denials and other opposing evidence, have it that rocket-like streaks of smoke were seen and that balloons were exploded at high altitudes. There is basis for confusion of recollection. The Dyrenforth experi­ments of 1892-93 had started at Midland, Texas, including balloon explosions at high altitudes.

In 1910 and 1911 there were latter­day experiments in rainmaking by ex­plosions near Post City in the Texas Panhandle, north of Carlsbad. C. W;. Post, the breakfast food man, owned a ranch there and was impatient with drouth conditions. Several bombard­ments at widely spaced intervals brought no results. Finally in August of 1911 his men exploded 1,000 two-pound charges of dynamite in rapid succession, soon after which an inch of rain fell. Post claimed he was satisfied of success. He scheduled another demonstration for the spring of 1912 at Santa Barbara, Calif., but it didn’t materialize.

The Hatfield records have it that 3.37 inches of rain fell at Carlsbad during the engagement there. The cotton crop should have thrived on that.

IV. COSGROVE’S DROUTH

Following his successful experiments in Texas, Charley came back to Calif­ornia and more particularly, to San Diego which was beginning to view its situation, water-wise. In rapid fashion the com­munity, initially concerned about not enough water, switched to a worry about too much, after Charley was hired in December 1915, for soon after that came the disasterous floods of January 1916.

These floods left scars on the moun­tains and hills of San Diego County for years, and scoured river channels to bedrock. Washouts tore out miles of tracks and trains were stopped for 32 days. Highways and the telephone and telegraph were cut off, leaving only the sea for transportation and Marconi’s wireless for direct communication.

Brush-covered hillsides, probably overgrazed, were saturated to the con­sistency of slush and the soil gave way in great slides. The scars permanently changed the contour of hills and disappeared only as new brush grew and the new contours became familiar. Springs previously unknown to the back country flowed for years afterward. Lower Otay Dam went out and loosed a flood that demolished everything in front of it. Many lives were lost.

Old residents with an ingrained habit of hoping for rain remember today that for the first time they were fearful. It seemed the rains would never end and the damage would never stop mounting. On the high land of San Diego itself life seemed to be perched, wet and insecure, above raging disaster. The San Diego River was a mile-wide torrent covering Mission Valley from the Kearny Mesa to the mesa of the city and sending back-waters between the jutting fingers of both. Great trees tumbled root over branch. Sticks of lumber, railroad ties and parts of houses floated crazily. Out of the gullies from the east and south came droves of cattle, horses, sheep and goats.

All of it would be known thereafter as Hatfield’s flood, comparable only to San Diego’s great flood of 1862 in stream flow. Despite the tragedy, it would also suggest the plot of comedies in which a little man made hocus pocus at the sky and the rain fell in torrents.

San Diego has since assumed the strained air of amused tolerance as it views the simplicity of its 1916 city council. No other government body except the rambunctious Yukon Terri­torial Council ever employed Hatfield. San Diego has a vague discomfort be­cause it agreed to pay Charles M. Hatfield $10,000 if Morena Reservoir was filled. Morena was filled until a thundering cataract went over the spill­way, but San Diego behaved like the town of Hamlin after the deal with the Pied Piper.

Toward the winter of 1915, San Diego was talking of drouth, although the rainfall record in the city fails to ex­plain why. The year 1915 had started with good rains. Others came at reasonable intervals. In early December there was rain, before the deal was made with Hatfield on December 13. More came before he got into action. The calendar year 1915 ended with 13.62 inches compared to an average of 9.90. The average of five calendar years, 1909 through 1914, was 9.25.

Even in the Laguna Mountains to the east, from which came most of the water supply, the city’s shortage was not critical. Although Morena Reservoir had not been filled since it was built in 1897, by the end of 1915 it was calcu­lated to be holding five billion gallons of its fifteen billion capacity.

However, other reservoirs had not been filled either, and the city’s growth had placed increased demands on the supply. The area’s potential growth was a bigger factor in creating concern over possible shortages. It was well under­stood that water shortages in Southern California must be anticipated. Legal battles over water in the Southwest have frequently been accompanied by maneuvers to suggest that the tank is already dry.

Acutely aware of future needs, its lack of reserve supply and its present shortage, the City of San Diego had decided in 1913 to gather in all its potential water supply. It engaged a city attorney expert in water matters. He declared in 1914 that the city, by virtue of a grant in the name of the Spanish king, had the right to the full flow of the San Diego River. In December of 1915 hearings were started in Los Angeles on the Capitan Grande Case, against ranch owners and pro­moters who had appropriated much of the stream’s flow. These circumstances made San Diego receptive to the claims of Charley Hatfield and set in motion a series of events that the city would regret.

San Diego knew Charley Hatfield. Some had said harsh things about him when he declared, two years after the fact, that he caused the big rain of July, 1902. Rain in July is the last thing a California dry farmer wants. However, Charley’s wife was a San Diego woman, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. J. F. Rulon, and their family visits kept some of the Hatfields’ old San Diego contacts on the list of active acquaintances. One of the most presistent and faithful was Fred A. Binney.

Fred Binney was well known in San Diego, only partly because of his active interest in the San Diego rainmakers of 1900. He was a large, lean man with an ample set of whiskers, a squeaky voice, an English accent, a belief in socialism and an evangelistic tendency. He made his living as a real estate broker. He painted his own “for sale” signs with an amateur hand and took liberties as to where he set them up. The houses he advertised were “pretty homes with nice gardens and pretty flowers.” He was an indefatigable walker. The 15 miles from downtown San Diego to La Jolla were for him an easy stroll.

Binney believed in Charley Hatfield’s ability to cause rain. He took pains to say he was not Charley’s agent, but was taking his own initiative. In all but one matter Charley was a conservative man, who wanted no conventions upset. He would have preferred an advocate with more standing, but he accepted such help as he could get.

Binney knew the feeling of rejection. Once he was regaling City Councilman Don Stewart concerning Hatfield when the councilman may have given facial expression to his reaction. Or perhaps Binney already sensed the rejection and knew what was meant by an attitude of polite listening. In any case he broke off suddenly and said: “There are all sorts of wonders you believe in, like wireless and Burbank’s new plants, and automobiles. But when a man comes in with a simple, sensible idea, you treat him as though he were a lunatic!” With that he arose to his full dignified height and stalked out.

As early as 1912, soon after the city acquired Morena Dam and Reservoir from the Southern California Mountain Water Company, Binney wrote to the council asking it to engage Hatfield. Late in 1915 he made a public appeal in newspaper advertising. While he was too much associated with lost causes to be impelling, he helped dramatize and sell the idea. The councilmen, however much some of them pretended later it was a kind of jest, were interested enough to give it a whirl and not skep­tical enough to reject it. Still, there might have been a certain cunning in­volved, not necessarily recognized by them.

Early in December, Charley appeared before the council in conference. Shelley Higgins, assistant city attorney and later judge, was to spend a large share of his time thereafter defending, morally and legally, the city’s treatment of Hatfield, and indirectly his own conspicuous but hardly heroic role in it. He said in his memoirs many years later that the councilmen in a jocular spirit, after exchanging knowing smiles, said “If you can fill the lake, we’ll be glad to pay you.”

Since the council probably did not chant this sentence in unison, like a Greek chorus, we will assume it was merely Higgins’ interpretation of the councilmanic attitude. But in the same memoirs Higgins also said Charley “bore himself importantly and had what salesmen term impressive presence.” What the council actually did was to ask Charley to put his proposition in writing and to come again.

Charley drew up his own contracts, without the benefit of an attorney. As usual he offered alternate propositions. His first written proposal stated that by June 1, he would “produce 40 inches of rain (at Morena Reservoir) free gratis, I to be compensated from the 40th to the 50th inch by $1,000 per inch.”

On December 8 the council asked Fred Lockwood, manager of operations, for a recommendation. Next day Charley re-submitted his first written offer plus two alternatives, also in writing, to another councilmanic conference. He offered to fill Morena Reservoir, without reference to the amount of rain necessary to do it, by December 20, 1916. Or he would cause a rainfall of 50 inches by June 1, 1916, for which he would require either $500 per inch from the 30th to the 50th inch or $1, 000 per inch from the 40th to the 50th. Each of these alternatives meant $10,000 for completion.

On December 13 the council voted, four to one, to accept Charley’s offer to fill the reservoir by December 20, 1916, and asked the city attorney’s office to prepare a written contract. The lone and adamant opponent on the council was Herbert R. Fay. The one council­man outspoken in favor of Charley’s proposition was Walter P. Moore. Mayor Edward P. Capps and Councilmen P. J. Benbough, Henry M. Manney and Otto M. Schmidt did not disclose their rea­soning but voted to engage Hatfield.

On the ninth, when Charley submitted his three alternatives, Councilman Moore explained, “If he fills Morena, he will have put 10 billion gallons into it, which would cost the city one tenth of a cent per thousand gallons; if he fails to fulfill his contract, the city isn’t out anything. It’s heads the city wins, tails Hatfield loses.” This was Charley’s own reasoning.

One man did take a superior attitude—City Attorney Terence Byrne Cos­grove, 34-year-old graduate of Notre Dame University and Yale Law School. He was a rising star in the profession, winning a name in water litigation. He was an advocate, a fighter for the client who retained him, shrewd in conference and able on occasion to seem like Patrick Henry striking an attitude. Cur­rently he was spending a good deal of time in Los Angeles on the Capitan Grande Case.

At the December 9 meeting Cosgrove was asked if the proposed contract would be legal. It was recorded that he grinned broadly when he replied, “If Hatfield fills Morena, I guess there would be no doubt about the legality.” It was a nice parrying of an honest and perhaps simple question. Obviously there was a pre­formed doubt in Cosgrove’s mind that Hatfield would be responsible if Morena should be filled. One can almost see the lawyer’s mind looking ahead. He also could have had in mind that it would do no harm, during the current water liti­gation, to dramatize the city’s water shortage as though it were clear and present instead of clearly potential. Negotiations with Hatfield tended to do this. Hatfield at work could do it even better. Cosgrove, of course, would have had no part in explicitly or publicly encouraging a deal with Hatfield, but he pointedly said nothing to discourage it.

Charley was his own attorney, and, as must have been apparent to Cosgrove, his legal footwork was amateurish even for a layman. If Morena overflowed, how would he prove he did it?

Whatever else he was thinking, Cos­grove must have reasoned that it would be a long day in January before either Hatfield or God filled Morena. It had been there since 1897, a big overbuilt reservoir, one that could hold 15 billion gallons and had never been full. Indeed the city had been able to acquire it along with Lower Otay Reservoir be­cause the Southern California Mountain Water Company discovered itself to be overbuilt, paying taxes out of proportion to income. The city purchase had enabled the backers to recover their capital and something extra.

Charley did not wait for the written agreement, which Cosgrove and Higgins were in no hurry to draft, but was at work by January 1. His assistant was not Paul as usual, but Joel, the youngest of the brothers. Having had no rain­making contracts since the spring of 1914, Charley and Paul had returned to selling sewing machines. Paul continued to sell, to keep the camp supplied pend­ing the day Charley would take home the prize.

The tower was built on a slope, along­ side the road leading to the dam, just beyond the city’s present Morena Reservoir headquarters. Despite the attention it received from 60 miles away in San Diego, the tower had few visitors. Shelley Higgins in his memoirs speaks of seeing it from a mountain road, although the road at that point is not mountainous and the deluge very quickly made it impassable to cars.

Probably the only visitors to the tower were Seth Swenson, the dam keeper, and his wife, Maggie. They lived not at the later lake headquarters, which was then non-existent, but in a cottage at the dam. >From there Mrs. Swenson answered the telephone and relayed messages to Charley, two miles away by road and a little over a mile as the crow flies.

For a man who spent so much time contentiously embroiled with Hatfield, Shelley Higgins was elaborately casual about his visit to Morena. He said in his memoirs that he was passing on a “field trip” in his Model T when he saw the tower and occassional puffs of smoke and heard muffled explosions. Where­upon, he continued, “I smiled—I hope indulgently—and went on about my business.”

But the Swensons were in sight of the tower all the time and were curious about it and keenly interested. They could have heard shots and seen puffs of smoke and would have remembered them. Charley Hatfield told them he was evaporating something from shallow pans. Shelley Higgins’ description of the Hatfield tower, especially the smoke puffs and the explosions, must have been a visualization of something he read.

V. HATFIELD’S FLOOD

The headlines in San Diego newspapers that December and January told of many things. Apart from the rain they talked of the current Panama-California In­ternational Exposition, starting its second year in San Diego, the war in Europe and Pancho Villa’s depredations in northern Mexico.

Charley Hatfield’s verbal agreement with the council caused little initial excitement, although it proved of some interest to columnists and other discur­sive people. One who wrote in the Sunday San Diego Union under the name of Yorick adopted a good journeyman air of superiority, calling it:

… an excellent business proposition from the city’s standpoint. The publicity alone is worth $10,000.

There was snow in the mountains and a light sprinkle in the city near the year’s end, and water flowed in the San Diego River through Mission Valley—a rare sight since upstream diversion had become so extensive.

On January 5 a good rain was re­ported at Morena Reservoir and the water department said 48-1/2 million gallons had been impounded since De­cember 27. Though welcome, it was not enough to change the round number of five billion gallons Morena was esti­mated to have been holding December 20.

The Union published a feature story January 9 on the Weather Bureau’s San Diego office and its chief forecaster, E. Herbert Nimmo, and his young as­sistant, Dean Blake. There was a dis­cussion of storm centers and their movements from the north Pacific southeastward across California. There was talk of the basis of weather pre­dictions and their uncertainty. Nimmo’s opinion of Hatfield was already publicly known: he thought Charley a mountebank. But in the Sunday article both Nimmo and the Union writer ignored him.

The weather played fewer tricks on Nimmo than it practiced on the unfor­tunate George Franklin of Los Angeles in 1904 and 1905. The San Diego rains of 1915-16 arrived as predicted, but in much greater volume.

Rain of a genuinely remarkable quan­tity began January 10. For 24 hours in San Diego itself it rained off and on, but reports from the back country said it rained hard and almost continuously. From then until the 18th it was rainy weather. On the 14th it rained torrents and continued to rain heavily for several days. Roofs leaked. Storm drains that had not been taxed for years overflowed.

The San Diego River went over its banks and spread across Mission Valley in the early hours of the 17th. Real tragedy developed on the 18th in the valley of the Tijuana River, a little north of the international border. There, some 40 families, 100 persons or more, con­stituted a colony known as the Little Landers. It was based on the semi-­utopian idea of W. E. Smythe, who claimed that a family could make a modest and healthful living on an acre of ground and turned real estate pro­moter to demonstrate it.

The river left its channel and over­flowed the Little Landers’ homes and gardens. It cut a new channel and not only destroyed many of the homes but literally carried the land away. Two women were drowned. In San Diego a fund was started for the Little Landers’ relief.

The Santa Fe and the San Diego-­Arizona rail connections with the north and east respectively, were put out of operation at that time. Main highways and most by-ways were closed. On one day mail went out to only six of the county’s 36 post offices. Tall tales were told of the kind experienced Southwest­erners have learned not to reject too quickly, even when they are as tall as Rex Clark’s silo story. Clark said the flood picked up a cement silo from one of his Mission Valley ranches and set it down upright, with contents intact, on another of his ranches a mile distant.

Lower Otay Reservoir on Dulzura Creek filled to the lip of its spillway and started flowing over.

With the rains that started on the 10th, it became apparent that people were interested in the activities of Hatfield. The Union‘s main headline of the 17th read: “Is Rainmaker at Work?”

Unfortunately it was not possible to get the kind of details a newspaper story needs in such a situation. The obvious need was a description of the tower and the activities around it, together with interviews with the busy rainmakers. By the time it became apparent that this was a big story—science or not—the roads were impassable. Through telephone calls to the Swensons the Union was able to report on the 17th:

The mysterious Hatfield, rainmaker, was said to be particularly active in the vicinity of Morena Sunday…. While engaged in his experiments, Hatfield is not altogether socia­ble, but persons watching his work from a distance said he seemed to be on the job at all hours of the day and considers the down­pour due to his efforts. Incidentally, it was said that Hatfield himself is getting a good soaking.

Hatfield’s scheme was on almost every tongue yesterday. Many were inclined to jest, but all agreed that things were going his way.

Nimmo’s office pointed out that the storm was general along the West Coast, which did not fully explain the propor­tions of the San Diego County rainfall.

The sun came out indecisively and repair crews went to work on railways and highways. By the 24th automobiles were able to drive north on the inland highway, but the damaged rail lines and the coast highway could not be repaired that quickly.

Nimmo on the evening of January 25 anticipated rain next day. He was right, and as a conventional general storm approaching from the northwest it was a heavy one. But according to the Weather Bureau’s later analysis it was overlapped by another and more rare type of rainstorm that affected the San Diego area—a storm from farther south in the Pacific. The distinction was lost on plain people, who viewed it as one terrifying rain.

It was worst in the back country, but in San Diego it was frightening enough. A veritable river rushed out of the canyons of Balboa Park, down Fifteenth Street, requiring pedestrian ferry service by a horse-drawn fire wagon. The confused stray animals and the pelting rain made a strange noise, night and day. Business was suspended and nothing was normal. People gathered at Mission Cliffs Gardens and other vantage points overlooking Mission Valley to watch the strange torrent pitch, roll and toss.

The Santa Fe bridge spans only the normal channel of the river, and even that is usually dry. With the valley running full from mesa to mesa, rail­road crews weighted down the bridge with loaded freight cars and relieved pressure by cutting the dirt fill ap­proaches on both sides. Water then flowed around as well as under the bridge, which stood isolated in mid­stream. City crews tried to save the approaches to the new concrete bridge on the coast highway, assuming the bridge itself could stand the strain. They piled the approaches with sand bags, so effectively that the unrelieved pressure of the stream lifted the con­crete spans off their piers and left them fallen, broken and askew.

Corresponding episodes took place where other rivers and creeks came out of the interior to the sea. The coast highway and Santa Fe rail line were cut in several places. When the flow of a stream increased rapidly it developed a wall of water advancing downstream. The Fallbrook station in the canyon of the Santa Margarita River and the house of the station master were carried away. Miles of the Fallbrook branch line were destroyed and rolling stock isolated.

Debris of all kinds including broken parts of buildings, piled up 20 feet high at obstructions on the beaches at the mouths of canyons.

The adobe bell tower at the Pala mis­sion outpost in the valley of the San Luis Rey River, a relic of Spanish times, was undermined and toppled. More than 200 bridges were washed out. Roads were severed in places where no noticeable water channel existed. Landslides were greatest in the vicinity of Dulzura summit above the doomed Lower Otay Lake.

R. C. Wueste, superintendent of the city impounding system, was worried about Lower Otay from the start of the second storm. The lake was already full and the stream in the spillway began to rise. For the better part of the two days the spillway managed it, but precariously.

Soon after 4 p. m. on the 27th, Wueste walked along the dam from the north to the south side. At 4:30 the first tiny stream trickled across the middle. Wueste had to jump a sizeable stream a few minutes later when he returned to the north side. It was cutting into the two feet of earth and gravel that lay on top of the coarser rock and earth. With the soft top gone and more than two feet of water pouring over, the momentum of the flowing lake was added to the cutting force. The heavy rock fill was soon tumbling. When Wueste next looked at his watch it was 5:05. The dam was disintegrating rapidly.

It had been built with concrete abut­ments, to which a wall of thin steel plate was anchored as a core for the fill material. Wueste described the flow as a torrent, not a waterfall, rushing through the breach and into the narrow gorge below. The principal noise was made by the torn remainder of the steel plate, banging against the rocks.

Downstream the released head of water behaved characteristically. Although not released through a toppling wall but as a rapidly increasing flow, its advancing front soon took the shape of a wall of water. It was 40 feet high, someone said, and the figure appeared in print next day—40 feet high and no one testified it was not. It must have looked that high and it might have been. It roared like a passing train with a monumental roll of thunder in the background. When the headwall passed, the pursuing current raged and boiled. Hit­ting obstructions it shot spray hundreds of feet upwards, some of it seeming to merge with the overcast sky.

Wueste had dispatched four men down the valley to warn the several hundred who lived there. Others from San Diego were trying to warn those who had tele­phones. F. E. Baird, one of the mes­sengers, saw the headwall approaching when he was six miles below the dam. He cleared its main impact, but was caught in the following rise. He reached safety after swimming and clinging to trees.

Next morning Don Stewart, then city treasurer and a Naval Reserve officer, went out onto San Diego Bay off the mouth of Otay River. There he saw many small boats, manned by Japanese who lived in Otay Valley. Isolated from the general population, telling its trou­bles to no one, the Japanese colony was searching for its dead.

On the beach the flood had fanned out and made a delta several hundred yards wide covered with debris. There, rolled up and battered, was the bulk of the sheet core from the dam, twelve miles distant.

How many lives were lost, Japanese and other, was promptly confused among newspaper headlines and counter-head­lines. When the flood subsided the  Union sought to encourage visitors to come to the exposition. In the excitement it had been forgotten that the nation was listen­ing and San Diego was being made to seem impossible to reach and extremely dangerous on arrival. In the manner of newspapers of the day, the Union ac­cused the Scripps-owned Sun and the United Press of frightening the East with scare headlines announcing as many as 65 dead. The Sunreplied in kind.

The coroner’s office on the 28th had estimated the dead at 50. Later esti­mates have placed it in the vicinity of 20 and some lower. This refers only to deaths resulting from the dam failure.

The fund started for the relief of the Little Landers expanded into a larger appeal for the relief of the disaster victims throughout the county.

In the listing of the casualties, bizarre events, damages and ironies, one item is almost never omitted. Jim Coffroth, a show-type personality and erstwhile boxing promoter, had finished construc­tion of his new Tijuana race track. On the eve of its opening the flood overran it, making channels across the track and entering the buildings. The opening was postponed for weeks.

From Morena Dam between the big rains, Charley Hatfield telephoned San Diego and was quoted by the Union: “I understand the newspapers are saying I didn’t make the rain. All I have to say is that Morena has had 17½ inches of rain in the last five days and that beats any similar record for the place that I have been able to find.”

That was the last remark directly attributed to him until after the storm. He may have been in touch with his mother-in-law and Fred Binney, each of whom issued a statement that ap­peared to have knowledge of his wants and intentions.

Mrs. Rulon said, as Charley had said many times himself, that her son-in­law did not “make” rain, but released it when conditions were favorable. She also said: “If Morena has overflowed we may expect him shortly. If it has not, he will remain until it does.”

Binney in a letter to the Union said that Lake Cuyamaca, higher in the moun­tains, usually had 36 inches of rain in a year compared to Morena’s 21-1/2. But up to the 27th Cuyamaca was still 4.79 short of its yearly average while Morena had exceeded its by 4.50.

“Here we have scientific proof,” he explained, and expanded on the theme. The  Union was accustomed to him and his letters. This one it entitled: “What Hatfield Has Done, as F. A Binney Sees It.”

One of the many telephone messages Mrs. Swenson relayed to Charley was from a man she assumed was his at­torney. It might have been Fred Binney. The voice advised him to go back to San Diego at once and sign an agreement with the council, without which he would not be paid. Charley did not appear to take the message seriously.

Charley and Joel had cleared the brush from the soft ground under and near their tower. With a hand rake they frequently combed the ground immedi­ately under the platform, leading Mrs. Swenson to suppose they were trying to avoid identification of their chemical. When the Swensons approached the tower, Charley would come down the ladder or emerge from the tent, to meet them some 20 feet away. This they found to be amusing, being sure they could not identify anything so mysterious, but they kept their respectful distance.

Of many conversations with Charley, Mrs. Swenson remembers most vividly one during the first of the two storms. She said, “It’s sure raining now!” and Charley replied, “You haven’t seen any­thing yet. Wait two weeks and it will really rain.”

When the big storm got underway on the 26th the telephone failed, but not before Mrs. Swenson received a message for her husband from George Cromwell, city engineer and Wueste’s superior. The city council, he said, was deter­mined to impound all possible water. Swenson was instructed to keep the spillway gates closed until the water level reached the very top. The gates when closed were virtually as high as the dam itself.

All day on the 26th the rain came down heavily and steadily, out of a light gray sky. It was odd, the Swensons noted, that the overcast did not seem heavy and dark, notwithstanding the downpour.

Toward midnight the lake level was rising faster. Swenson gauged it fre­quently and timed its rise at two feet per hour. Considering the expanse of the lake, this must have required an enor­mous inflow. Enough engineers’ con­versation had rubbed off on Swenson to indicate that the problem involved common sense. He estimated that the spillway, even wide open, would not handle the flow at the rate the lake was rising. The telephone being out, he de­cided to use his own judgment.

Just before midnight, with the lake level still twelve feet below the spillway lip, (according to his recollection a little over 40 years later) he rowed to the outlet tower, climbed the outside and descended the slippery inside ladder to open two 24-inch outlet valves, far be­low the surface. Despite this outflow, the level continued to rise rapidly, and continued to rise after spilling started. By dawn the spillway was an impressive waterfall, with nearly five feet of water tumbling over its crest.

Topping the upstream face of the dam was a coping, two feet high, intended more as a guard rail than as a part of the dam. With all the outflow, the water level at daylight on the 27th was only five inches below the top of the coping. By virtue of this scant five inches, Morena Dam and many human lives were saved.

For the rest of his life, Charley Hatfield claimed that more than enough water flowed over the dam in the next few days to have filled Morena a second time. With this the Swensons agree, and it must have seemed that way, although the estimate of the San Diego water department is that only a little over three billion gallons spilled in the month of January. Overflowing continued into April, however.

Charley and Joel stayed at the lake until three days after the storm. They had reduced the tower to a neat pile of lumber and had carefully raked the ground where it had stood.

On the 30th the telephone in the Swensons’ cottage came to life again and a message was relayed from Dul­zura headquarters below and to the west. Then they heard that Lower Otay Dam was gone and that damage through­out the back country was unbelievable. Someone was even talking of organizing a party to come up to Morena and lynch Hatfield.

How seriously to take that report was a question, but for all the Swensons knew, their informant seemed to be serious. Charley had seemed in no hurry to leave, but when they told him what they had heard he decided to go at once, on foot. Swenson pointed out the trail leading down the canyon from the dam. As he watched them go he saw two men far below, upward bound on the same trail. They proved to be Wueste and Cromwell, and when they arrived, Wueste asked for Hatfield.

When Swenson expressed surprise that they had not met on the trail, Wueste recalled seeing downward bound footprints and wondering why they had not met the men who made them. Charley and Joel had evidently gone off the trail to dodge the unknown upward bound men.

Wueste and Cromwell arrived in time to cope with a new threat to the dam. The east wind had blown to the spillway everything that floated—dead trees and brush, fence posts, dismembered barns and outhouses and other lumber. It formed a heavy jam covering the narrow neck of the lake in front of the dam. It blocked much of the overflow, and the lake level was rising.

A guard of steel rails had been in­stalled on the lake side of the spillway to keep the debris away from the lip. Instead the pressure had forced the debris under and against the guard rails, forming a semi-effective water seal.

Cromwell walked nine miles through mud to Campo where he obtained dyna­mite and recruited men from an im­mobilized railroad construction crew. Two sticks of dynamite broke the jam, and the crew was put to work building a road to the dam, the old one having been covered by the risen lake.

Wueste and Cromwell and other en­gineers agreed that Swenson’s judgment and action, contrary to instructions, saved the dam.

It took Charley and Joel two days to cover the 60 miles to San Diego, walking all the way, fording fast streams and climbing in and out of new gullies. They stayed overnight at Jamul.

Charley held a press conference in Fred Binney’s office on the afternoon of February 4, explaining that he and Joel had arrived tired the day before and had taken a night’s rest and cleaned up. In the group photo taken at the confer­ence all three seemed well rested, well scrubbed and happy as larks.

Charley may have felt out the state of the public mind before he made a public appearance. He was surprised at the devastation and did not entirely discount the lynch threat. By the time of the press conference, however, he was aware that his chief enemies were those who proposed to deny payment of his fee on the ground that he had nothing to do with the rain.

VI. SAN DIEGO’S DILEMMA

For a man of Cosgrove’s shrewdness and combative instinct, Charley Hatfield was a sitting duck. Charley’s contracts would have distressed any attorney who tried to have them enforced at law. They were designed, if the word applies at all, principally for selling, as indicated by the contract title at Hemet: “Four Inches of Rain for $4,000; No Rain, No pay.”

Perhaps a lawyer might have designed one with fewer holes. It might have been stipulated that performance was established if a specific amount of rain fell while Charley was functioning, without qualification as to cause. With dry farmers he probably got more con­tracts and more fees by his own way of putting it. They understood that he would do his work, whatever it was, and that if the agreed amount of rail fell they would pay. That was enough for most of them, and those who dodged paying did not have to hire lawyers to shoot holes in the contracts. He never sued anyone except the City of San Diego, and that half-heartedly.

In the February 4 press conference Charley reviewed his career and as much concerning his ideas and methods as he was willing to disclose. Again he said he would be willing to give his secret to the U.S. government. When Fred Binney tried to enter the conver­sation, he firmly kept on talking.

How much time had he spent on the job at Morena?

Charley would not tell, but he pointed out that he had spent his own money and added that he would have continued to do so for the full year of the contract if filling Morena had taken that long. Now he expected the city to pay as agreed.

There were reports that the council did not intend to pay. Would Charley sue?

He said he did not want to cross that bridge before he reached it. He assumed the council would pay according to the agreement.

If Hatfield had caused the rain, then why had it also rained all along the coast, beyond the claimed limits of his influence?

Charley said it usually rains more in Los Angeles than in San Diego. This time it was the other way around. He did not claim to be a rainmaker, but only that he could increase the amount.

The questioners were primed with the city’s tactical line:

If Hatfield were to get credit for the rain, would he accept liability for the damage?

Charley said the benefits would ex­ceed the damages, and that the benefits included not only the water but the employment in repairing roads and bridges, which would put money into circulation and stimulate business. He was an economist ahead of his time!

How about the deaths?

Charley said the deaths were deplor­able, but he did not feel responsible.

From the press conference Charley proceeded not to the city treasurer but to the man everybody said he had to see—City Attorney Cosgrove. That gentleman was cordial, businesslike, and disarming. He advised Charley to file a written statement setting forth in detail what he claimed to have accom­plished, in how much time. In short, what exactly did he expect to be paid for?

Charley had always been willing, for simplicity’s sake and good salesman­ship, to allow clients to think he had caused the entire rain by himself. If challenged with the observation that rain had been general and that rains had been known to fall without his help, he was quick to deflate the challenge, not to counter it.

The payoff point in Hatfield contracts was usually set above normal expectancy, and this was especially true of all three propositions offered to the San Diego city council. His pay was conditional on an extraordinary amount of rain. Oddly, it appeared that the council had accepted the alternative that involved least rainfall. During that eventful January, according to city water depart­ment records, 28.01 inches fell at Morena and that amount caused a tremendous overflow. If 50 inches had fallen, as provided by either of the alternative propositions, the theoretical results are too horrifying to contemplate.

Charley’s claim was seven pages long and consisted largely of sales talk. He argued that while he was operating the city had only three days of sunshine. Since he stopped, the sun had been shining daily. He said the council would be dishonorable to evade payment by reason of the city attorney’s failure to draw up a written contract as he had been instructed.

Possibly Charley was disarmed by Cosgrove’s gentle approach. Indeed Cosgrove even appeared to be completely understanding about Charley’s right to the secrecy of his method. In any case Charley made the mistake of attempting to put on paper what he had always managed to keep conveniently indistinct, probably in his own mind as well as in the minds of his clients. He claimed to have been directly responsible for four billion gallons of what ran into Morena.

The climax came when Charley ap­peared before a council conference February 17. Mayor Edwin Capps asked him to state his business. He said: “The essence of my contract was to fill Morena Reservoir. That has been done. I have fulfilled my contract and I desire that the city should fulfill its contract to pay me $10, 000.”

“How much,” asked Cosgrove, “do you claim to have put into Morena?”

Charley had already put his foot into it in writing, and he repeated verbally: “Four billion gallons, if not more.”

“But you agreed to put in 10 billion gallons,” said Cosgrove. Charley was indeed bound up in a contradiction of his own making. He answered:

“There were five billion gallons when I started work and it required 15 billions to fill the reservoir. I claim that through the instrumentality of my work four billion gallons were put into the reser­voir and the other was the indirect result of my work.”

This was too easy. Charley was already in a bad position and Cosgrove pushed him harder: “You want the city to pay you only for what you yourself did? You do not want the city to pay you for what nature did, do you?”

” No.”

“Well, why do you ask the city to pay you for 10 billion gallons when you put in only four billion gallons?”

The inept opponent was vanquished as the attorney turned in triumph to the council:

“According to his own statements, this man has admitted that he put only four billion gallons of water into the reservoir. He offered to deliver 10 billion gallons. Therefore he had not fulfilled his contract, and there is no liability on the part of the city. He should have waited until he fulfilled his contract.”

Councilman Moore did not like to argue with a man so sharp and so emphatic as young Cosgrove, but he had a dogged sense of honesty.

“If Morena overflowed,” he said, “I think he should be paid his money.”

Cosgrove fixed Moore, and through him any other vacillator, with a stern look and proceeded:

“If I give a ruling it will be based solely upon the facts as shown by the records, and not upon any understanding or upon anybody’s sympathy. The records all show that Hatfield made three propositions to the city. The first was to fill Morena for $10,000; the second was to produce 40 inches of rain gratis and to receive $1,000 an inch for every inch between 40 and 50 inches and the third was to produce 30 inches of rain gratis and to receive $500 an inch for every inch between 30 and 50 inches. The resolution which was passed by the council simply said that Hatfield’s offer was accepted, but it did not say which of the propositions was accepted.

“This gentleman, according to my opinion, cannot collect his money in the courts. Under the constitution and the statutes of the state and the charter of the city, a claim that is unenforceable is invalid.”

So the council voted to refer the matter to the city attorney, which meant to deny payment. Moore said nothing further, but Benbough spoke in the sim­pler language of the council’s discussions with Charley. He said: “Four councilmen voted to accept the man’s proposition and told him to go ahead. He ought to be paid.”

For such disputations Charley had neither ability nor stomach. He was best when he held forth in his own terms on his own claims. Most of those who talked to him for any reasonable length of time were convinced that he had convinced himself.

Of course the reasons for refusing to pay Charley, as every San Diegan knows, was that if Charley really caused the rain then the city presumably could be held responsible for the damage it caused.

It might have been interesting if Charley had retained an equally belli­cose lawyer to insist as Councilmen Moore and Benbough insisted that a contract was in force regardless of the absence of a written version. Ultimately Cosgrove and Higgins did draft one in writing, although probably only for dis­play purposes. It was never presented to the council or Hatfield for approval. Higgins wrote, years later, that it was based on the alternative of filling Morena Reservoir rather than on the fall of 50 inches of rain. Despite Cos­grove’s quibble, they too understood as Charley and the newspapers and the council understood, which proposition had been accepted.

If Charley’s verbal deal with the council was a deal at all, it is hard to imagine what evidence of performance could have been given other than the simple fact of Morena’s overflow. If Charley had made a fuzzy contract, so had the city council. It is doubtful that any of them reasoned in the four-to-­one vote as Cosgrove reasoned after the fact. Who wanted Morena to overflow more than it had already?

Charley got an attorney to file suit, but the suit appeared to be merely an effort to urge settlement. He had al­ready offered to compromise for $4,000. Later the attorney implied a willingness to settle for even less.

Then, said Higgins, he and Cosgrove offered to recommend that the city pay all of the $10,000 if Charley would sign a statement assuming responsibility for the flood, absolving the city. One might wonder what would have been the out­come if Charley had solemnly signed such a statement and accepted the $10,000. If a damage suit had prevailed and if Hatfield had been without assets to cover, would the city have been liable anyway? It is a matter for spec­ulation only. Charley refused to sign.

Perhaps on examining the perform­ance of legal counsel it is fair only to ask if the client was victorious. San Diego and most of Cosgrove’s clients were. Three years later he resigned as city attorney and entered private practice in Los Angeles. As Southern California’s best known water specialist, he served many clients in a long and distinguished career. Among his greater victories was the triumph for his client and former employer, the City of San Diego, in the Paramount Rights Case completed in 1926.

Ultimately two damage suits against San Diego in the matter of the Hatfield flood reached trial, under change of venue. Courts in Orange and San Ber­nardino Counties ruled that the rain was an act of God, not of Hatfield. However, the city made cash settlements to some claimants who were willing to settle out of court. Altogether, it was not Cos­grove’s most brilliant undertaking, but who would have expected it to rain like that?

He himself was soon removed from the Hatfield problem by affairs of greater moment. Shelley Higgins continued as assistant city attorney through the Hat­field flood cases. It was Higgins who had to defend the city and it was Higgins who had to explain and find dignity in the Cosgrove-Higgins role, where there was really no dignity to be found. He worked very hard at it.

Charley’ s suit against the city lingered on the court calendar nearly twenty-two years and finally was dismissed in 1938 for lack of prosecution.

For most modern San Diegans, the refusal to pay was justified in view of the damage suits against the city, of which there could have been many more. Still it does seem a pity to some that Charley could not have been paid, since he did seem to make good on the kind of deal the council made with him.

Possibly it is this touch of bad con­science that accounts for a verbal tra­dition in San Diego that Charley was paid $5,000 from an under-the-table fund the city fathers maintained for confidential purposes best understood by practicing politicians. But Charley was scrupulous. Higgins himself had testified to the refusal of one back door payment proposition. If Charley had taken any payment he probably would not have continued to say, as he did, that the city had not paid him.

“To this day,” he told a newspaper reporter 30 years later, “I’ve never felt right about that San Diego city council.” For him it was a strongly worded complaint.

BIBLIOGRAPHIC NOTE

The San Diego City Council discus­sions with and about Hatfield, including the direct quotations, are based princi­pally on contemporary news stories from the San Diego Union. The Union of January 21, 1951, is the source of Al Wueste’s recollection of the failure of Lower Otay Dam.

Paul Hatfield of Pearblossom, Calif., brother of the rainmaker, supplied dates, locations and routine details on all the Hatfield rainmaking engagements. At most of them, but not at Morena Reservoir, he was his brother’s helper.

Three eye witnesses to the 1916 floods were especially helpful through personal interviews. Don Stewart, former San Diego city councilman, city treasurer and postmaster, was interviewed on August 20, 1958, in Riverside. He was the most informative of a delegation from the San Diego History Center, the other members of which were Edgar F. Hastings, Joe Silvers and Wilmer B. Shields. Stewart especially recalled Fred A. Binney. The other two key recollections came from Seth and Maggie Swenson, who tended the dam at Morena Reservoir. They were interviewed, probably no later than 1959, at their home in San Diego.

Rainfall figures were obtained from or checked against Climatological Data, published by the Department of Commerce.

The following books were consulted with particular reference to the Hatfield story: McGrew, Clarence A., San Diego and San Diego County, American His­torical Society, N.Y., 1922; Hopkins, Harry C., History of San Diego, City Printing Co., San Diego; Higgins, Shelley, This Fantastic City; Hensley, H. C., Early San Diego, Vol III (in ms. form, San Diego Public Library).

Thomas W. Patterson’s article on Charles M. Hatfield’s activities relating to San Diego and the disasterous floods of 1916 is part of a 43,000-word manuscript in which Patterson analyzes the myths and legends, and evaluates the facts in Hatfield’s interesting career as rainmaker.Mr. Patterson is a newspaper reporter. In 1945 he worked for the San Diego Journal, and since 1946 he has been a reporter for the Riverside Press Enterprise. He was born on April 1, 1909, in Yuma, Arizona.

Mr. Patterson is also the author of Land­marks of Riverside and co-author of Riverman, Desertman (on Palo Alto Valley), both of which have been published by the Press En­terprise Company.

Mr. Patterson was recently honored by the San Diego History Center at their Second Annual Institute of History for his contributions to San Diego history through the Hatfield article.

God of Thunder (NPR)

October 17, 201411:09 AM ET

In 1904, Charles Hatfield claimed he could turn around the Southern California drought. Little did he know, he was going to get much, much more water than he bargained for.

GLYNN WASHINGTON, HOST:

From PRX and NPR, welcome back to SNAP JUDGMENT the Presto episode. Today we’re calling on mysterious forces and we’re going to strap on the SNAP JUDGMENT time machine. Our own Eliza Smith takes the controls and spins the dial back 100 years into the past.

ELIZA SMITH, BYLINE: California, 1904. In the fields, oranges dry in their rinds. In the ‘burbs, lawns yellow. Poppies wilt on the hillsides. Meanwhile, Charles Hatfield sits at a desk in his father’s Los Angeles sewing machine business. His dad wants him to take over someday, but Charlie doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life knocking on doors and convincing housewives to buy his bobbins and thread. Charlie doesn’t look like the kind of guy who changes the world. He’s impossibly thin with a vanishing patch of mousy hair. He always wears the same drab tweed suit. But he thinks to himself just maybe he can quench the Southland’s thirst. So when he punches out his timecard, he doesn’t go home for dinner. Instead, he sneaks off to the Los Angeles Public Library and pores over stacks of books. He reads about shamans who believed that fumes from a pyre of herbs and alcohols could force rain from the sky. He reads modern texts too, about the pseudoscience of pluvo culture – rainmaking, the theory that explosives and pyrotechnics could crack the clouds. Charlie conducts his first weather experiment on his family ranch, just northeast of Los Angeles in the city of Pasadena. One night he pulls his youngest brother, Paul, out of bed to keep watch with a shotgun as he climbs atop a windmill, pours a cocktail of chemicals into a shallow pan and then waits.

He doesn’t have a burner or a fan or some hybrid, no – he just waits for the chemicals to evaporate into the clouds. Paul slumped into a slumber long ago and is now leaning against the foundation of the windmill, when the first droplet hits Charlie’s cheek. Then another. And another.

Charlie pulls out his rain gauge and measures .65 inches. It’s enough to convince him he can make rain.

That’s right, Charlie has the power. Word spreads in local papers and one by one, small towns Hemet, Volta, Gustine, Newman, Crows Landing, Patterson come to him begging for rain. And wherever Charlie goes, rain seems to follow. After he gives their town seven more inches of water than his contract stipulated, the Hemet News raves, Mr. Hatfield is proving beyond doubt that rain can be produced.

Within weeks he’s signing contracts with towns from the Pacific Coast to the Mississippi. Of course, there are doubters who claim that he tracks the weather, who claim he’s a fool chasing his luck.

But then Charlie gets an invitation to prove himself. San Diego, a major city, is starting to talk water rations and they call on him. Of course, most of the city councilmen are dubious of Charlie’s charlatan claims. But still, cows are keeling over in their pastures and farmers are worrying over dying crops. It won’t hurt to hire him. They reason if Charlie Hatfield can fill San Diego’s biggest reservoir, Morena Dam, with 10 billion gallons of water, he’ll earn himself $10,000. If he can’t, well then he’ll just walk away and the city will laugh the whole thing off.

One councilman jokes…

UNIDENTIFIED MAN #1: It’s heads – the city wins. Tails – Hatfield loses.

SMITH: Charlie and Paul set up camp in the remote hills surrounding the Morena Reservoir. This time they work for weeks building several towers. This is to be Charlie’s biggest rain yet. When visitors come to observe his experiments, Charlie turns his back to them, hiding his notebooks and chemicals and Paul fingers the trigger on his trusty rifle. And soon enough it’s pouring. Winds reach record speeds of over 60 miles per hour. But that isn’t good enough – Charlie needs the legitimacy a satisfied San Diego can grant him. And so he works non-stop dodging lightning bolts, relishing thunderclaps. He doesn’t care that he’s soaked to the bone – he can wield weather. The water downs power lines, floods streets, rips up rail tracks.

A Mission Valley man who had to be rescued by a row boat as he clung to a scrap of lumber wraps himself in a towel and shivers as he suggests…

UNIDENTIFIED MAN #2: Let’s pay Hatfield $100,000 to quit.

SMITH: But Charlie isn’t quitting. The rain comes down harder and harder. Dams and reservoirs across the county explode and the flood devastates every farm, every house in its wake. One winemaker is surfacing from the protection of his cellar when he spies a wave twice the height of a telephone pole tearing down his street. He grabs his wife and they run as fast as they can, only to turn and watch their house washed downstream.

And yet, Charlie smiles as he surveys his success. The Morena Reservoir is full. He grabs Paul and the two leave their camp to march the 50 odd miles to City Hall. He expects the indebted populist to kiss his mud-covered shoes. Instead, he’s met with glares and threats. By the time Charlie and Paul reach San Diego’s city center, they’ve stopped answering to the name Hatfield. They call themselves Benson to avoid bodily harm.

Still, when he stands before the city councilman, Charlie declares his operations successful and demands his payment. The men glower at him.

San Diego is in ruins and worst of all – they’ve got blood on their hands. The flood drowned more than 50 people. It also destroyed homes, farms, telephone lines, railroads, streets, highways and bridges. San Diegans file millions of dollars in claims but Charlie doesn’t budge. He folds his arms across his chest, holds his head high and proclaims, the time is coming when drought will overtake this portion of the state. It will be then that you call for my services again.

So the city councilman tells Charlie that if he’s sure he made it rain, they’ll give him his $10,000 – he’ll just have to take full responsibility for the flood. Charlie grits his teeth and tells them, it was coincidence. It rained because Mother Nature made it so. I am no rainmaker.

And then Charlie disappears. He goes on selling sewing machines and keeping quiet.

WASHINGTON: I’ll tell you what, California these days could use a little Charlie Hatfield. Big thanks to Eliza Smith for sharing that story and thanks as well to Leon Morimoto for sound design. Mischief managed – you’ve just gotten to the other side by means of other ways.

If you missed any part of this show, no need for a rampage – head on over to snapjudgment.org. There you’ll find the award-winning podcast – Mark, what award did we win? Movies, pictures, stuff. Amazing stories await. Get in on the conversation. SNAP JUDGMENT’s on Facebook, Twitter @snapjudgment.

Did you ever wind up in the slithering sitting room when you’re supposed to be in Gryffindor’s parlor? Well, me neither, but I’m sure it’s nothing like wandering the halls of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Completely different, but many thanks to them. PRX, Public Radio Exchange, hosts a similar annual Quidditch championships but instead of brooms they ride radios. Not quite the same visual effect, but it’s good clean fun all the same – prx.org.

WBEZ in Chicago has tricks up their sleeve and you may have reckoned that this is not the news. No way is this the news. In fact, if you’d just thrown that book with Voldemort trapped in it, thrown it in the fire, been done with the nonsense – and you would still not be as far away from the news as this is. But this is NPR.

Os saberes indígenas, muito além do romantismo (Outras Palavras)

POR  RICARDO CAVALCANTI-SCHIEL

150513-Reciprocidade

Não se trata de opor um fantasioso “espiritualismo” a um materialismo ocidental. Mas de desafiar nosso regime de sociabilidade com outras ideias, disposições e possibilidades

Por Ricardo Cavalcanti-Schiel

Houve um tempo em que falar de índios no Brasil era um exercício romântico. Tão romântico quanto fantasioso.

No começo do século XX, alguns doutos paulistas saíram pelo seu estado batizando os lugares com nomes tupi, do Anhangabaú a Araçatuba, movidos por ímpetos eruditos, não necessariamente por remissões mais escrupulosas à realidade. Quando a região de Guaianases, na cidade de São Paulo, foi batizada com esse nome, havia centenas de anos que os Guainá, que ali teriam sido aldeados à força no século XVI, já não mais existiam para contar qualquer coisa a respeito da sua história. Os índios daqueles eruditos paulistas, cultores do “tupi antigo”, eram algo bastante postiço. Realizando com perversa ironia os ideais antropofágicos dos mesmos tupi, que séculos antes iam à guerra, entre outras coisas, para caçar, para seus futuros filhos, os nomes daqueles que comeriam, acabaram eles agora transformados em não mais que nomes, desta feita como que nomes em conserva, para serem usados nessa curiosa salada toponímica.

Enquanto isso, no oeste paulista, a partir de Bauru, travava-se uma guerra pela expansão da fronteira agrária, empurrada pela ferrovia. Era um legítimo cenário de bang-bang, e as principais vítimas do extermínio, operado por “bugreiros” e outros agentes, eram os Kaingang e os Xavante, genericamente chamados de Coroados, gente da família linguística jê (muito diferente da família tupi, portanto); extermínio que a história oficial paulista fez questão de sepultar sob a tampa de concreto do silêncio, escrevendo, em seu lugar, o relato fantasioso de uma simples saga de imigrantes. Assim, Araçatuba, por exemplo, terra kaingang, hoje capital do boi gordo, no extremo-oeste paulista, pôde, também ela, ganhar seu bucólico nome tupi: bosque de araçás.

Note-se: não estamos nos confins selváticos e geograficamente obscuros de uma imensa Amazônia; uma Amazônia quase que alheia e que nem parece ter fim (e que daí, pela “lei” da oferta e da procura, se presuma como tão… barata). Estamos no hoje pujante e urbanizado oeste paulista, há não mais que cem anos atrás, apenas vinte anos antes de São Paulo embarcar em uma aventura militar contra um incipiente governo nacional antioligárquico.

De romantismo em romantismo, chegamos aos anos 80, em que os índios, eternos candidatos a nobres selvagens, passam a ser agora heróis ecológicos. Esses, pelo menos, ainda estavam vivos. É bem verdade que a relação dos índios com aquilo que chamamos “natureza” é muito diferente da que a nossa sociedade tem, a começar pelo fato de que, como nos ensina a antropologia amazonista hoje, eles não a reconhecem como “natureza” ― como objeto exterior e à parte, feito para ser usado, apropriado e apenas eventualmente “preservado” como coisa patrimonializada ―, mas como “gente”, como uma multiplicidade de sujeitos imprescindíveis de uma relação sem a qual o mundo habitado não é compreensível nem poderia existir. No entanto, transformar os índios em heróis da “nossa” natureza, incorporados como parte daquele objeto à parte, e igualmente alheio a nós, pode não ser mais que uma dessas nossas projeções, tão românticas quanto utilitárias, de ver Peri beijar Ceci… e morrer em seguida. Parará tim bum bum bum.

Se o novo romantismo ecológico ao menos chamou os índios para a agenda enquanto eles ainda estão vivos, sua tônica acanhadamente preservacionista os fez equivaler, mais uma vez, ao passado; a um passado de aparente pureza florística e faunística que precisaria ser sempre revivido ― ou “resgatado”, como gosta de usar a terminologia patrimonializadora em voga ― de forma idealmente imutável. Mais uma vez, os índios parecem entrar na (nossa) dança sob a clave do embalsamamento, mesmo que, agora, sob a agenda de uma patrimonialização talvez tão fetichista quanto a toponímia mítica dos velhos eruditos paulistas.

No entanto, nos últimos tempos, os últimos lastros românticos que ainda pareciam nos avalizar a existência dos índios parecem estar ruindo, o que não nos augura necessariamente algo virtuoso, porque ficamos mal-acostumados a depender dos romantismos para assegurar uma (traiçoeira e manhosa) legitimidade simbólica desses Outros Nacionais (como os chamou a antropóloga Alcida Ramos) e, por consequência, garantir as bases institucionais da sua existência enquanto povos acolhidos e protegidos ― não falemos sequer ainda de “respeitados”, porque o respeito à diferença não é algo que se aprenda por meio de projeções românticas.

Não é preciso lembrar, para as pessoas razoavelmente informadas, o estado de coisas em que andam as políticas de governo… e os horizontes obscuros das políticas de Estado… com relação aos povos indígenas. Também já é quase ocioso lembrar o quanto um e outro (políticas de governo e projetos de política de Estado) têm se estimulado mutuamente, para promover o etnocídio indígena por meio do solapamento dos direitos. Seja para quem for, qualquer solapamento de direitos é sempre um sequestro da cidadania. Daria até para lembrar, parafrasticamente, aquele poema de Brecht: “primeiro levaram os índios…”.

O que alenta e justifica essa marcha implacável nós também já sabemos o que é: a velha ideologia desenvolvimentista repaginada pelo avatar inquestionável do consumo como critério, seja de teórica “inclusão” seja de teórico “bem-estar”. Assim, no coração dessa nova ideologia desenvolvimentista encontra-se uma operação utilitarista singela: trocar a cidadania pelo consumo. E, nela, o único lugar para os índios ― uma vez corroídas, por esse realismo neoclássico rasteiro, as amarras românticas que os sustentavam ― é o de se tornarem, eles também, modestíssimos consumidores, apoiados por programas assistenciais do governo, depois de entregarem seus “meios de produção” a quem realmente interessa, como aqueles que, vencidos, entregaram outrora o que são hoje terras de boi gordo.

Claro que os que já se renderam inteiramente à coisificação utilitarista do consumo (e provavelmente se esqueceram até de ser gente) vão dizer: melhor boi gordo do que índio ― e no estado em que chegamos, isso é exatamente o que muitos pensam, sem que tenham a necessidade de pronunciá-lo. No entanto, a troca utilitarista, na sua racionalidade de meios e no seu afã predatório, quer apenas ganhar hoje, para a aventura de uns quantos, o que o bem comum poderia, de outra forma, ganhar multiplicado amanhã, se sobreviver até lá. E é aí que a equação que move as curvas de utilidade se alarga para variáveis e horizontes impensados pelos mecano-economistas.

No atual estado de coisas, entretanto, parece haver apenas duas alternativas para salvar a (potencialmente subversiva) diversidade existencial dos Outros Nacionais da sanha desenvolvimentista de moê-la e transformá-la em salsicha: ou reciclamos as projeções românticas em algum novo (e duvidoso) feitiço encantatório das nossas narrativas nacionais, ou tiramos os índios do alheamento passadista a que sempre foram condenados e os reconhecemos como uma aposta sincera no futuro; num futuro não apenas deles, como também não apenas nosso, mas num futuro de diálogo, para além do alheamento, no qual eles também são, necessariamente, sujeitos de fala ― não “eles” a pessoa x ou y, ou a “representação” w ou z, mas, ainda mais radicalmente, as suas visões de mundo. A primeira alternativa, a da reciclagem das projeções românticas, sempre foi aquela imediatamente sedutora, e, com ela, chega-se até mesmo a lançar mão de alegados exotéricos. A segunda, por sua vez, é a que reclama uma reflexão antiutilitária, mas estratégica, que talvez seja exatamente aquilo pelo qual muitos de nós, antropólogos, trabalhamos.

Em 1952, num texto escrito para a Unesco, Lévi-Strauss defendia que as sociedades só sobrevivem porque aprendem umas com as outras. Uma sociedade que se isola na certeza das suas verdades fenece diante dos problemas para os quais sua visão de mundo não alcança soluções. As “soluções” de grande alcance, portanto, não são meramente tecnológicas, mas conceituais. São as ideias que dimensionam a técnica e que dão uso às ferramentas, ou, segundo a fórmula famosa do epistemólogo Georges Canguilhem: o microscópio não é a extensão da vista, mas a extensão da inteligência. Sem o conceito de micro-organismo, o que se veria pelas lentes de um microscópio seria apenas um conto de fadas.

Evidentemente que as tecnologias ajudam, mas o que está sempre por detrás delas são as ideias. De pouco adiantaria, para a expansão europeia dos séculos XV e XVI, o astrolábio que os europeus aprenderam dos árabes, se alguns deles não dispusessem do novo e herético conceito de uma Terra redonda. Descobrir a América, nesse sentido, foi a consagração de uma grande heresia, frente a uma doxa tão potente à sua época quanto os mitos econômicos atuais e suas leis inquestionáveis. E as coisas não pararam por aí, evidentemente, porque, como também nos lembrava Lévi-Strauss, isso é a história, e os europeus, casualmente, não se encontravam na situação dos Mayas em torno do ano 1.000, quando, orgulhosos e isolados, viram suas opulentas cidades colapsarem por conta de uma crise ecológica, por eles mesmo provocada, e para a qual nem o refinamento do conhecimento dos seus astrônomos e sacerdotes tinha uma solução a dar.
150507_Palacio Nacional 09b

Ainda assim, um milênio após o fim do período Maya Clássico, o muralista Diego Rivera pintaria em uma das paredes do Palácio Nacional do México a lista do que a tradição ameríndia mexicana havia legado ao mundo: uma lista de cultivos alimentares que, além de cacau, tomate e feijão, é encabeçada, evidentemente, pelo milho, cuja notável diversidade genética dos cultivares meso-americanos a Monsanto está tratando hoje de eliminar, por meio de seu milho transgênico com patente “made in USA”. Não apenas o milho, mas sobretudo a batata, levada dos Andes pelos europeus, produzem muito mais calorias por hectare plantado que o trigo, nascido na Mesopotâmia e levado para a Europa. O cultivo desse tubérculo, rapidamente estimulado e expandido no Velho Continente, foi responsável por eliminar a fome endêmica e medieval da Europa, e constituir a base demográfica sem a qual a Revolução Industrial não teria sido possível e, com ela, a nossa arrogante modernidade.Por trás da domesticação dos tubérculos nos Andes há um enorme conjunto de ideias sobre como a mãe-terra gera seus frutos, como o trabalho comum os recolhe, como eles podem ser acumulados e conservados, e como devem ser distribuídos. À época da Conquista, os indígenas dos Andes eram muitíssimo mais bem nutridos e saudáveis que os europeus. Diante dessa diferença evidente, estes últimos aproveitaram apenas um produto específico, o que, para eles, já foi muito. Há quem acredite que o socialismo e o Estado do bem-estar social teriam sido inventados alguns séculos antes se os europeus, além das batatas, tivessem levado as ideias.

Apostar nos índios, e portanto na diversidade cultural, como nosso futuro comum de não-alheamento, não significa meramente apostar que a erva de algum pajé possa trazer a cura para o câncer. Expor nossas ideias ao contato com outras visões de mundo pode nos curar de coisas muito piores: nossos próprios e mesquinhos limites.

Quando comentávamos antes que o militantismo ecologista, ao trazer intuitivamente os índios à baila, acabou descuidando do que eles poderiam pensar a respeito da “nossa” natureza ― apenas para servirem ao que nós continuamos a pensar dela e da sua “preservação” enquanto objeto ―, sugeríamos também que a recusa, por parte dos índios, à sumária objetificação dessa “natureza” corresponde ao reconhecimento dela, por eles, como sujeito de uma relação. Conceitos como animismo, perspectivismo e multinaturalismo (por oposição a multiculturalismo) vêm sendo testados pelos antropólogos para descrever o sentido da socialidade indígena na Amazônia e a sua maneira de reconhecer os agentes das relações. Esse fenômeno, no entanto ― como tentamos demonstrar em nossas pesquisas nos Andes ―, pode, na realidade, se constituir como um traço ameríndio generalizado, continental. E o que ele desafia não é apenas a nossa forma de relação com uma “natureza” dada, mas sim a forma como nós a conceituamos, para, em seguida, nos sentirmos à vontade para subjugá-la, a partir de uma relação sujeito-objeto em que a extensão do uso e da posse (a simples destruição incluída) se define pelos casuísmos de uma racionalidade instrumental.

Se aquele tipo de perspectiva sobre a socialidade tem uma incidência efetivamente ameríndia, continental, e se a dimensão do seu desafio pode e deve ser posta em larga escala, então quem nos manda o recado político é o movimento indígena equatoriano, que inspirou em boa medida a elaboração da última Constituição do país, referendada em 2008. Nela, pela primeira vez no mundo, a Natureza foi reconhecida como sujeito jurídico de direito, para que em seu nome e da sua integridade, seja defendida como parte interessada em qualquer ação judicial visando garantir sua “existência, manutenção e regeneração de seus ciclos vitais, estrutura, funções e processos evolutivos” (Art. 71). Talvez seja ocioso se prender a emblemas ou ressentimentos étnicos: se essa Natureza corresponde tão somente, ou não, à Pachamama, a mãe-terra dos andinos, tal como explicitamente a nomeia o mesmo artigo 71… Estamos, antes, em um terreno de fecundas heterogeneidades discursivas, no terreno do desafio das ideias. E é aí que se fazem as grandes apostas no futuro, porque é isso que, para o bem ou para o mal, com a lista de Diego Rivera e muitas outras, e também com toda a precariedade das experiências, constituiu o Novo Mundo.

O desafio posto pelo pensamento ameríndio de reconhecer a socialidade como espaço de interação necessária de muitos sujeitos, que faz o mundo girar não por conta de alguma hierarquia natural ou do imperativo de marcas de origem que definem privilégios, mas por conta das diferentes maneiras de vê-lo e de tecer acordos, nos sugere que viver em não-alheamento significa reconhecer que o Outro é, inescapavelmente, parte de qualquer consideração que se faça sobre si mesmo. Como já o enunciava, bela e sinteticamente, o professor Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, “para os ameríndios, o Outro não é apenas pensável, ele é indispensável”. Talvez não tenhamos lição melhor, para começarmos a repensar seriamente o que possamos entender por cidadania, em um contexto flagrado por iniquidades; um contexto que não será reformado se se insistir apenas no polo da objetificação alheadora, no fetiche da mercadoria e, em último termo, na dispensabilidade dos outros.

Não se trata de opor um fantasioso “espiritualismo” indígena a um materialismo ocidental “realista”. Trata-se de desafiar um certo regime de socialidade (o nosso, ocidental e moderno) com outras ideias, disposições e possibilidades. Algumas delas é bem provável que até já tenhamos aprendido inconscientemente, ao longo de nossa história cultural, afinal o território mais largo da cultura, a parte submersa desse iceberg, é, como também dizia Lévi-Strauss, esse inconsciente. Os índios que os portugueses aqui encontraram, com quem conviveram e que permanecem no (apenas aparente) subterrâneo das nossas mestiçagens, não legaram aos brasileiros de hoje simplesmente tapioca, rede de dormir e outras coisas. Legaram-nos também um modo de nos relacionarmos quotidianamente, que, muito diferente dos europeus, não parte do princípio do reconhecimento do lugar social e pertencimento de alguém sempre e necessariamente pelas suas marcas de origem ― algo que tanto prezam nossas elites senhoriais, que se querem mais “europeias”. Se os brasileiros aprenderam a se abrir cordialmente aos outros, digeri-los e abrasileirá-los como parte de um nós possível (ainda que muitas vezes perverso e hierárquico ― mas a hierarquia não é, com certeza, um legado indígena), isso seguramente não foi aprendido dos europeus.

E se se trata ainda de desafiar um certo regime de socialidade com outras ideias, disposições e possibilidades, então, levar a sério o não-alheamento diante da diversidade significa garantir aos muitos da cidadania um lugar ativo, ouvi-los mais detidamente e deixar-se desafiar pela possibilidade da invenção, pela potencial complicação do que parece já estar dado pelas nossas formas institucionais, recusando a simples tentação de domesticá-los às formas prévias, a uns quantos programas assistenciais, quotas e representações de fachada. Afinal de contas, o que é, por exemplo, o ideal político do “Buen Vivir” (ou, em quéchua, “Sumaq Kausay”), alentado pelas novas disposições constitucionais do Equador e da Bolívia, senão uma enorme complicação para a planura desenvolvimentista; uma complicação ainda a reclamar um ou vários Amartya Sen para lhe inventar indicadores por agora imponderáveis? Mas, e o que é também o ideal político do “Buen Vivir” senão um desafio em nome da “imanência da suficiência”, dos índios, contra a voraz e predatória “transcendência da necessidade”, do Ocidente capitalista, de que nos falava Eduardo Viveiros de Castro [1]?

Talvez seja também preciso dizer que encarar seriamente a opção do não-alheamento significa, com bastante probabilidade, molestar alguns lugares comuns tidos hoje como “politicamente corretos”, e que são aqueles tributários do multiculturalismo neoliberal, quais sejam, suas obsessões com fronteiras bem acabadas, identidades amuralhadas e os contratos de patrimonialização. Os verdadeiros diálogos não se realizam sobre a prévia domesticação dos seus termos por gramáticas unilaterais ― ou uma pretensa universalidade habermasiana. Eles não são uma mera exibição de emblemas, para marcar posição dentro de um mercado contratualista ― ou uma economia contratualista da alteridade. Os verdadeiros diálogos são aqueles em que nos “contaminamos” e nos arriscamos com as razões de ser dos outros. Os pós-estruturalistas talvez tenham nisso razão ao usarem o termo “devir”.

A Constituição brasileira de 88 consagrou os direitos coletivos indígenas como base positiva do direito à reprodução cultural. Sequestrar os primeiros é também sequestrar este último. O que perdemos todos com isso é mais do que uma diversidade meramente nominal, a diversidade passiva do multiculturalismo objetificador. Estaremos perdendo possibilidades de cidadania. E estaremos perdendo possibilidades de futuro. Pois é aí, e não num passado romântico ou instrumentalmente ecológico, que os índios deveriam sobretudo ser vistos.

[1] http://www.socioambiental.org/pt-br/blog/blog-do-isa/o-brasil-e-grande-mas-o-mundo-e-pequeno

New CSIRO head wants to make water divining easier for farmers (Melbourne Skeptics)

By Ben Finney |

The incoming leader of our top scientific research organisation is promoting water-dowsing to Australian farmers.

The CSIRO has a new leader, Dr. Larry Marshall, who will take the reins in 2014-12.

Currently the managing director of the California-based Southern Cross Venture Partners, an outfit specialising in creating and growing Australian technology companies, Dr Marshall holds a doctorate in physics from Macquarie University. He has 20 patents to his name and has co-founded six companies.

The 52-year-old, who admits he hasn’t applied for a job in 25 years, suspects it was this combination of science and business that got him the CSIRO’s top job following a competitive global search.

“I started as a scientist, became an entrepreneur and learnt a lot about business the hard way,” he said.

[…]
Innovation Minister Ian Macfarlane, whose portfolio takes in science, welcomed Dr Marshall’s appointment.

Highlighting his commercial background, Mr Macfarlane said Dr Marshall’s arrival came at a time when the agency was embarking on a “significant new phase” in which the CSIRO would play an increasingly important role in the economy. This included strengthening links between business and science, he said.

The leader of CSIRO is chiefly welcomed by Australia’s Innovation Minister? What about our Science Minister? Oh that’s right, Australia’s current government has scrapped the ministry for science. Instead, our Prime Minister has appointed himself the head of a Science Council, with no minister responsible for science — and CSIRO left to the mercies of the “industry” portfolio.

So our federal government’s appointed head of CSIRO, Larry Marshall, himself seems to place much more emphasis on what is financially profitable than what is scientifically sound. He’s not been working as a scientist for a very long time; the past 25 years was spent as a venture capitalist.

And now, on the basis that charlatans can fool him, he wants to use his new position as head of CSIRO to fund research for water dowsing.

He’d like to see the development of technology that would make it easier for farmers to dowse or divine for water on their properties.

“I’ve seen people do this with close to 80 per cent accuracy and I’ve no idea how they do it,” he said.

“When I see that as a scientist, it makes me question, ‘is there instrumentality that we could create that would enable a machine to find that water?’

“I’ve always wondered whether there’s something in the electromagentic field, or gravitation anomaly.”

Dr Marshall believes the CSIRO can ‘push the envelope’ with such projects and contribute to improving agricultural productivity.

Really? Shouldn’t we reserve funding for technologies whose claimed phenomenon can pass a simple blinded controlled objective study, rather than assuming Larry Marshall has seen it and he can’t be fooled? (The Victorian Skeptics has a guide to dowsing among other educational materials.)

In an age when all of climate science shows that we are in for, among other catastrophic results, devastating drought unless we act now to reverse our damaging activities, Australia’s leading government science body will spend its precious attention on pseudoscience and fakery.

We are under the rule of one of the worst governments in Australian history, in terms of the scientific soundness of policy.

Pajés Caiapó Kukrit e Mati-í fazem pajelança e terminam incêncio de mais de dois meses em Roraima, em 1998

“No dia 30 de março, quando o incêndio completava 63 dias, chegam a Roraima, levados pela Fundação Nacional do Indio-FUNAI, os pajés Caiapó Kukrit e Mati-í, determinados a realizar uma pajelança para atrair chuva para Roraima. Na noite do dia 30, os pajés dirigiram-se à beira do rio Curupira, que banha Boa Vista, e fizeram um ritual de chuva. Retornaram ao hotel, afirmando que no dia seguinte choveria “muito”. De madrugada choveu muito, apagando 95% dos focos de incêndio.

A partir desse fato a imprensa debruçou-se sobre o tema durante vários dias, mudando o rumo da discussão pública sobre o incêndio, concentrando-a na participação dos pajés nos esforços para debelar o incêndio. Antropólogos discutiram a eficácia dos rituais indígenas . José Jorge de Carvalho, da Universidade de Brasília, contemporizou: “Nem toda vez que você faz ritual para chover, chove. Como nem toda vez que você vai ao médico, o médico te cura.” Júlio Cezar Melatti, também da UnB: “Depende da fé de cada um. Fazer chover, eu acho que é coincidência”. Marcos Terena, organizador do I Encontro Nacional de Pajés (que se realizaria de 15 a 18 do mesmo mês, em Brasília): “Quem manda é o criador, a natureza. A gente pede. Não é uma coisa mágica”. Terena acredita que os rituais dão certo por causa da “relação íntima do índio com a natureza”.

O sociólogo Eurico Gonzalez, da UnB deu outra interpretação: “as crendices são fruto do fracasso da razão. Ou seja, da incapacidade do homem de resolver seus próprios problemas. O nosso projeto de sociedade moderna nunca funcionou direito. E isso abre espaço para que crenças mágicas ocupem o lugar das soluções.”

O temporal da madrugada do dia 31 de março alagou ruas e derrubou árvores em Boa Vista. Segundo relatório do Núcleo de Monitoramento Ambiental da Empresa Brasileira de Pesquisa Agropecuária-Embrapa, chegou a chover mais de 30 mm em algumas regiões do Estado. O documento diz: “A principal e mais espetacular consequência das chuvas foi uma redução quase completa (em mais de 95%) dos pontos de incêndios e queimadas no Estado”. A avaliação foi feita a partir de imagens obtidas do satélite NOAA 14.”

Trecho do relatório da comissão especial do Senado Federal para acompanhar o caso, disponível em http://www.senado.leg.br/atividade/materia/getPDF.asp?t=79112&tp=1.

Agradeço a B. Esteves pela indicação do material.

Folhinha de Mariana (Arquidiocese de Mariana)

FOLHINHA ECLESIÁSTICA DE MARIANA
s/d, acessado em 12 de setembro de 2014

Côn. José Geraldo Vidigal de Carvalho*

Publica-se em Mariana desde 1870, portanto há 136 anos, a tradicional “Folhinha Eclesiástica de Mariana”, fundada por D. Silvério para ser um sucedâneo aos calendários, por vezes, uns tanto licenciosos. Ela foi precedida em 1830 pela “Folhinha de Rezas do Bispado de Mariana” que apresentava preces e informações de utilidade pública.

Famosa pelo Regulamento do tempo a folhinha de Mariana que se firmou, no decorrer dos anos, como infalível, tem uma tiragem de cerca de trezentos mil exemplares. É conhecida em todo o Estado e em outras regiões do País.

Em 1959, o então Arcebispo de Mariana, D. Oscar de Oliveira adquiriu os direitos autorais de Agripino Claudino dos Santos e, em 1965, os da similar Folhinha Civil e Eclesiástica do Arcebispado de Mariana, editada pela Tipografia e Livraria Moraes, passando a imprimi-la a Editora Dom Viçoso, que possui o Lunário Perpétuo para os cálculos anuais.

Estes são feitos em torno do ano lunar, cujo início se fez coincidir com lunação que começa em Dezembro. Cada lunação tem a duração exata de 19 dias, 12 horas e 44 minutos. De dezenove em dezenove anos se repetem os fenômenos causados pela influência lunar.

O Lunário Perpétuo oferece as regras para se poder calcular as variações do tempo, conforme registra o referido Regulamento estampado na Folhinha. É claro que tais previsões valem para o contexto geográfico assinalado no referido Lunário Perpétuo.

De 1960 a 1994 fomos o diretor desta Folhinha e nestes 34 anos impressionante a correspondência exaltando a fidelidade deste Calendário em acertar a previsão do tempo. Inúmeros os jornais que publicaram reportagens sobre o mesmo sempre ressaltando este pormenor. É claro que em torno da Folhinha de Mariana se criaram algumas lendas, mas que, no fundo, servem para afirmar o seu alto conceito popular.

Assim que junto do povo por vezes se diz que “é mais fácil em galinha nascer dente do que a folhinha de Mariana falhar!” Conta-se também que alguém telefonou para um amigo de uma cidade vizinha, dizendo-se decepcionado porque a Folhinha de Mariana marcava chuva e nada de chuva. A resposta foi imediata: “Você não perde por esperar!” Pouco depois uma tempestade confirmava lá a previsão “tempo revolto”, repreendendo a dúvida daquele Tomé!

O escritor Carlos Drumonnd de Andrade assim se expressou sobre este calendário em crônica publicada no Jornal do Brasil, dia 27 de Dezembro de 1973, à página 5 do primeiro caderno, sob a epígrafe A Boa Folhinha: “Ela não quer iludir-nos com as pompas deste mundo. Adverte-nos que há dias de penitência, esta última comutada em obras de caridade e exercícios piedosos.

Para cada dia do ano, o santo, a santa ou os santos que nos convém aceitar, como companheiros de jornada: breve companhia, companhia sempre variada, e o ano escoam sob luz tranqüila, mesmo que o tempo seja brusco e haja abundância de água”. Termina o renomado escritor com este conselho: “Vamos à boa, veraz, singela e insubstituível Folhinha de Mariana”.

Esse calendário apresenta orações, instruções religiosas, tabela do amanhecer e do anoitecer, das festas móveis, dos feriados, época de plantio, resoluções da CNBB, dados biográficos do Papa, além de reservar um espaço 11×15 para a propaganda das casas comerciais que distribuem aos fregueses como brinde de fim de ano.

Ao redigir estas linhas estamos com um exemplar deste calendário do ano 2000, enviado por uma Farmácia que “oferece muito mais segurança para sua saúde e garantia de bom atendimento!”.

*Ex-Diretor da Folhinha de Mariana (1960-1994)

Indigenous and local knowledge has important role in biodiversity assessments (UNEP-WCMC)

23 MAY 2014

A new study co-authored by Neil Burgess, Head of Science at UNEP-WCMC has proved the scientific value of indigenous and local knowledge collected from community members using focus groups.

Bringing together “western scientific” and “indigenous and local” knowledge is a goal of the Intergovernmental Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES). The information is needed to fulfil a function of IPBES which is to produce assessments of the state of the planet’s environment, and identify changes over time. However, assuring its usefulness and quality is a challenge of bringing together western science and indigenous knowledge.

To test the utility of focus groups for validating data collected by a local community, UNEP-WCMC collaborated in a study led by Nordisk Fund for Miljø og Udvikling. The Miskito and Mayangna communities who live in the Bosawás Biosphere Reserve in Nicaragua – an area that is a global priority for conservation – participated in community-level focus group discussions on the abundance of natural resources such as mammals, birds and plants.

At the same time, data was collected by trained scientists or members of the local community using transect lines which is a common scientific method. All participants from the local community had considerable experience of hunting and collecting forest products which made them ideal candidates for the accurate identification of the species, and both males and females were represented.

When compared, the information provided by the focus groups was as accurate as the data collected using the more traditional scientific methods. In addition, the focus group approach empowered the indigenous and local communities who generally have limited engagement in such activities.

The results of this study confirm that indigenous and local knowledge is valid source of information for assessment processes such as IPBES. The focus groups were also found to be eight times cheaper than deploying scientists to conduct transect lines so this method could be a cost-effective and efficient way of supplying the increasing demand for environmental information.

Publication information

Danielsen, F., Jensen, P.M., Burgess, N.D., Coronado, I., Holt, S., Poulsen, M.K., Rueda, R.M., Skielboe, T., Enghoff, M., Hemmingsen, L.H., Sørensen, M. and Pirhofer-Walzl, K. 2014. Testing focus groups as a tool for connecting indigenous and local knowledge on abundance of natural resources with science-based land management systems. Conservation Letters Doi: 10.1111/conl.12100.

Aboriginal Hunting Practice Increases Animal Populations (Science Daily)

Oct. 24, 2013 — In Australia’s Western Desert, Aboriginal hunters use a unique method that actually increases populations of the animals they hunt, according to a study co-authored by Stanford Woods Institute-affiliated researchers Rebecca and Doug Bird. Rebecca Bird is an associate professor of anthropology, and Doug Bird is a senior research scientist.

Aboriginal hunters looking for monitor lizards as fires burn nearby. (Credit: Rebecca Bird)

The study, published today inProceedings of the Royal Society B, offers new insights into maintaining animal communities through ecosystem engineering and co-evolution of animals and humans. It finds that populations of monitor lizards nearly double in areas where they are heavily hunted. The hunting method — using fire to clear patches of land to improve the search for game — also creates a mosaic of regrowth that enhances habitat. Where there are no hunters, lightning fires spread over vast distances, landscapes are more homogenous and monitor lizards are more rare.

“Our results show that humans can have positive impacts on other species without the need for policies of conservation and resource management,” Rebecca Bird said. “In the case of indigenous communities, the everyday practice of subsistence might be just as effective at maintaining biodiversity as the activities of other organisms.”

Martu, the aboriginal community the Birds and their colleagues have worked with for many years, refer to their relationship with the ecosystem around them as part of “jukurr” or dreaming. This ritual, practical philosophy and body of knowledge instructs the way Martu interact with the desert environment, from hunting practices to cosmological and social organization. At its core is the concept that land must be used if life is to continue. Therefore, Martu believe the absence of hunting, not its presence, causes species to decline.

While jukurr has often been interpreted as belonging to the realm of the sacred and irrational, it appears to actually be consistent with scientific understanding, according to the study. The findings suggest that the decline in aboriginal hunting and burning in the mid-20th century, due to the persecution of aboriginal people and the loss of traditional economies, may have contributed to the extinction of many desert species that had come to depend on such practices.

The findings add to a growing appreciation of the complex role that humans play in the function of ecosystems worldwide. In environments where people have been embedded in ecosystems for millennia, including areas of the U.S., tribal burning was extensive in many types of habitat. Many Native Americans in California, for instance, believe that policies of fire suppression and the exclusion of their traditional burning practices have contributed to the current crisis in biodiversity and native species decline, particularly in the health of oak woodland communities. Incorporating indigenous knowledge and practices into contemporary land management could become important in efforts to conserve and restore healthy ecosystems and landscapes.

The study was funded by the National Science Foundation.

Journal Reference:

  1. R. B. Bird, N. Tayor, B. F. Codding, D. W. Bird. Niche construction and Dreaming logic: aboriginal patch mosaic burning and varanid lizards (Varanus gouldii) in AustraliaProceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 2013; 280 (1772): 20132297 DOI:10.1098/rspb.2013.2297

People Merge Supernatural and Scientific Beliefs When Reasoning With the Unknown, Study Shows (Science Daily)

ScienceDaily (Aug. 30, 2012) — Reliance on supernatural explanations for major life events, such as death and illness, often increases rather than declines with age, according to a new psychology study from The University of Texas at Austin.

Reliance on supernatural explanations for major life events, such as death and illness, often increases rather than declines with age, according to a new psychology study. (Credit: © Nikki Zalewski / Fotolia)

The study, published in the June issue of Child Development, offers new insight into developmental learning.

“As children assimilate cultural concepts into their intuitive belief systems — from God to atoms to evolution — they engage in coexistence thinking,” said Cristine Legare, assistant professor of psychology and lead author of the study. “When they merge supernatural and scientific explanations, they integrate them in a variety of predictable and universal ways.”

Legare and her colleagues reviewed more than 30 studies on how people (ages 5-75) from various countries reason with three major existential questions: the origin of life, illness and death. They also conducted a study with 366 respondents in South Africa, where biomedical and traditional healing practices are both widely available.

As part of the study, Legare presented the respondents with a variety of stories about people who had AIDS. They were then asked to endorse or reject several biological and supernatural explanations for why the characters in the stories contracted the virus.

According to the findings, participants of all age groups agreed with biological explanations for at least one event. Yet supernatural explanations such as witchcraft were also frequently supported among children (ages 5 and up) and universally among adults.

Among the adult participants, only 26 percent believed the illness could be caused by either biology or witchcraft. And 38 percent split biological and scientific explanations into one theory. For example: “Witchcraft, which is mixed with evil spirits, and unprotected sex caused AIDS.” However, 57 percent combined both witchcraft and biological explanations. For example: “A witch can put an HIV-infected person in your path.”

Legare said the findings contradict the common assumption that supernatural beliefs dissipate with age and knowledge.

“The findings show supernatural explanations for topics of core concern to humans are pervasive across cultures,” Legare said. “If anything, in both industrialized and developing countries, supernatural explanations are frequently endorsed more often among adults than younger children.”

The results provide evidence that reasoning about supernatural phenomena is a fundamental and enduring aspect of human thinking, Legare said.

“The standard assumption that scientific and religious explanations compete should be re-evaluated in light of substantial psychological evidence,” Legare said. “The data, which spans diverse cultural contexts across the lifespan, shows supernatural reasoning is not necessarily replaced with scientific explanations following gains in knowledge, education or technology.”

Journal Reference:

  1. Cristine H. Legare, E. Margaret Evans, Karl S. Rosengren, Paul L. Harris. The Coexistence of Natural and Supernatural Explanations Across Cultures and DevelopmentChild Development, 2012; 83 (3): 779 DOI:10.1111/j.1467-8624.2012.01743.x

No Vale do Ribeira, Defensoria Pública defende comunidades tradicionais contra corrupção e mercado de carbono (Racismo Ambiental)

Por racismoambiental, 24/06/2012 11:45

Tania Pacheco*

“Posto diante de todos estes homens reunidos, de todas estas mulheres, de todas estas crianças (sede fecundos, multiplicai-vos e enchei a terra, assim lhes fora mandado), cujo suor não nascia do trabalho que não tinham, mas da agonia insuportável de não o ter, Deus arrependeu-se dos males que havia feito e permitido, a um ponto tal que, num arrebato de contrição, quis mudar o seu nome para um outro mais humano. Falando à multidão, anunciou: “A partir de hoje chamar-me-eis Justiça”. E a multidão respondeu-lhe: “Justiça, já nós a temos, e não nos atende”. Disse Deus: “Sendo assim, tomarei o nome de Direito”. E a multidão tornou a responder-lhe: “Direito, já nós o temos, e não nos conhece”. E Deus: “Nesse caso, ficarei com o nome de Caridade, que é um nome bonito”. Disse a multidão: “Não necessitamos de caridade, o que queremos é uma Justiça que se cumpra e um Direito que nos respeite”. José Saramago (Prefácio à obra Terra, de Sebastião Salgado).

O trecho acima foi retirado de uma peça jurídica. Um mandado de segurança com pedido de liminar impetrado no dia 6 de junho pelos Defensores Thiago de Luna Cury e Andrew Toshio Hayama, respectivamente da 2ª e da 3ª Defensorias Publicas de Registro, São Paulo, contra o Prefeito de Iporanga, região de Lageado, Vale do Ribeira. Seu objetivo: impedir que, seguindo uma prática que vem se tornando constante no estado, a autoridade municipal expulse comunidades tradicionais e desaproprie vastas extensões de terras, transformando-as em Parques Naturais a serem transacionados no mercado de carbono.

Para ganhar dinheiro a qualquer custo, não interessa investigar se nessas terras há comunidades tradicionais, quilombolas e camponeses. Não interessa se o Direito à Consulta Prévia e Informada estipulado pela Convenção 169 da OIT foi respeitado. Não interessa, inclusive, se, caso audiências públicas tivessem sido realizadas, as comunidades teriam condições de entender plenamente o que estava sendo proposto e decidir se seria de seu interesse abandonar seus territórios, suas tradições, suas gentes, uma vez que nesse tipo de unidade de conservação integral não pode haver moradores. Em parcerias com empresas e ONGs fajutas, o esquema é montado; de uma penada decretado; e o lucro é garantido e dividido entre os integrantes das quadrilhas.

Mas não foi bem assim que aconteceu em Iporanga. A Defensoria Pública agiu, e agiu pela Justiça e pelo Direito, de forma indignada, culta, forte, poética e, sempre, muito bem fundamentada nas leis. E coube ao Juiz Raphael Garcia Pinto, de Eldorado, São Paulo, reconhecê-lo em decisão do dia 11 de junho de 2012.

Este Blog defende intransigentemente a “democratização do sistema de Justiça”. E tanto no mandado como na decisão é um exemplo disso que temos presente: da prática da democracia pelos operadores do Direito. Por isso fazemos questão de socializá-los, não só como uma homenagem aos Defensores Thiago de Luna Cury e Andrew Toshio Hayama (e também ao Juiz Raphael Garcia Pinto), mas também como um exemplo a ser seguido Brasil afora, como forma de defender as comunidades e honrar a tod@s nós.

Para ver o mandado de segurança clique AQUI. Para ver a decisão clique AQUI. Boa leitura.

* Com informações enviadas por Luciana Zaffalon.

Sob o céu Guarani (Jornal da Ciência)

JC e-mail 4555, de 06 de Agosto de 2012

Livro lançado na 64ª Reunião da SBPC resgata técnicas da astronomia indígena no Mato Grosso do Sul.

Clarissa Vasconcellos – Jornal da Ciência

Lançado na 64ª Reunião Anual da Sociedade Brasileira para o Progresso da Ciência (SBPC), em São Luís, o livro ‘O Céu dos Índios de Dourados – Mato Grosso do Sul’ (Editora UEMS), de Germano Bruno Afonso e Paulo Souza da Silva, escrito em guarani e português, nasceu com a ideia de recuperar a tradição indígena de observação do céu. Trata-se de uma publicação voltada para o ensino de alunos de cultura indígena (mas não exclusivamente para eles), usada por professores Guarani como referência para mostrar como esses povos procuravam o melhor aproveitamento dos recursos naturais.

A publicação nasceu do projeto ‘Etnoastronomia dos Índios Guarani da Região da Grande Dourados – MS’, cuja meta era reconstruir três observatórios solares em Dourados, dois deles em escolas. “Eram uma espécie de relógio que os Guarani usavam para vários fins, como festejos ou medição das estações, e com isso podiam fazer previsões e criar cronogramas até para a concepção de bebês”, detalha ao Jornal da Ciência Paulo Souza da Silva, professor do curso de Física da Universidade Estadual do Mato Grosso do Sul (UEMS).

As técnicas dos índios também ajudam a explicar as marés e o comportamento da fauna e flora (útil para a caça e cultivo), entre outros fenômenos, mostrando que seu sistema astronômico vai muito mais além do que apenas a observação dos corpos celestes. O que acaba despertando o interesse até dos não índios.

Foi o que constatou o astrônomo do Museu da Amazônia Germano Bruno Afonso na palestra sobre o tema que ofereceu na Reunião da SBPC. “Foi mais gente do que esperávamos. A recepção das pessoas em São Luís me chamou a atenção, embora eu tenha falado bastante dos Tupinambá do Maranhão”, observa o pesquisador. Os Tupinambá, assim como os Tembé e os Guarani, pertencem à família linguística Tupi-Guarani, a maior em número e extensão geográfica do tronco linguístico Tupi.

Diferenças e semelhanças – Os Tupinambá maranhenses, uma etnia já extinta, não são o objeto principal do livro, mas estão presentes porque têm muito em comum com os Guarani do Sul a respeito da observação do céu. Germano conta que Tupinambá e Guarani têm técnicas muito parecidas, baseando-se no trabalho de Claude d’Abbeville, monge capuchinho que passou quatro meses no Maranhão em 1612. Seu livro ‘Histoire de la mission de Peres capucins en l’Isle de Maragnan ET terres circonvoisines’ é considerado uma das fontes mais importantes da etnografia dos Tupi.

“É interessante identificar o mesmo conhecimento com mais três de mil quilômetros de distância e 400 anos de diferença, embora Guarani e Tupinambá pertençam ao mesmo tronco linguístico”, pontua Germano, lembrando que a semelhança de idiomas isso facilitou que o conhecimento fosse repassado. Germano tem origem indígena e até os 17 anos de idade viveu numa aldeia Guarani.

O livro, originalmente uma cartilha, poderia ser complementar a ‘O Céu dos Índios Tembé’, que rendeu a Germano o Prêmio Jabuti de 2000. “Os Tembé são remanescentes dos Tupinambá, pela divisa do Pará com Maranhão, e eles também mantêm esse mesmo sistema astronômico”, conta. Após o livro dos Tembé, ele e Paulo Souza Silva ganharam uma bolsa de pesquisa do CNPq para trabalhar com os Guarani de Dourados, no projeto citado acima.

“Mas sabemos que esse trabalho é adaptável para todos os grupos da família Tupi-Guarani. Por isso fizemos um livro geral para professores, para eles aplicarem e modificarem de acordo com a cultura local. Um Guarani do Rio Grande do Sul não vê o céu da mesma maneira que um do Espírito Santo. A base é a mesma, mas o céu é diferente”, detalha Germano.

“Você tem que despertar o interesse da liderança, resgatar essa cultura”, opina Silva sobre a importância do livro e do projeto. Ele lembra que o indígena é marginalizado em cidades como Dourados, onde a cultura está se perdendo entre os jovens índios. “Muitos nem falam guarani”, lamenta.

Intercâmbio com a astronomia – A investigação desse conhecimento de grupos étnicos ou culturais que não utilizam a chamada ‘astronomia ocidental’ (ou oficial), caso dos povos indígenas do Brasil, deu origem à disciplina etnoastronomia ou astronomia antropológica. Ela requer especialistas em áreas como astronomia, antropologia, biologia e história. Germano conta que vê pouca colaboração entre a etnoastronomia e a astronomia.

“Não vejo troca nenhuma, exatamente por preconceito e falta de informação da astronomia ‘oficial’, pelo desconhecimento dos povos indígenas do próprio Brasil. A gente conhece a cultura dos maias, dos astecas e até dos aborígenes da Austrália, mas aqui temos muito desconhecimento”, lamenta, dizendo que busca a aceitação não apenas da academia, mas também do público leigo. Ele gostaria que o reconhecimento acontecesse conforme ocorreu na botânica e farmácia, disciplinas que aproveitaram muito o conhecimento tradicional desses povos. Para Silva, o preconceito diminuiu um pouco, apesar de haver quem diga que a etnoastronomia “é cultura e não ciência”.  “Como cientistas, temos que estar abertos ao que outros têm a oferecer”, opina o físico.

Atualmente, Germano está em Manaus e pretende passar seis meses em São Gabriel da Cachoeira, noroeste do Amazonas,” onde 95% da população são indígenas, com 27 etnias”. A ideia é fazer outro livro similar, levando em conta as diferenças regionais. “Enquanto no Sul é a temperatura que manda no clima, lá é a chuva. Vamos observar os períodos de chuva e as enchentes dos rios, aspectos climáticos que regem a fauna e flora”, detalha. Já Silva pretende fazer um livro sobre os mitos indígenas do céu, com questões como a formação do mundo.

Os autores desejam que esse conhecimento chegue aos bancos das escolas de todo o País, não apenas as que ensinam cultura indígena. “A mitologia indígena, comparada com a Greco-Romana [usada na astronomia], é muito mais fácil de visualizar no céu”, exemplifica Silva. “Nós explicamos, de uma maneira empírica, assim como os índios fazem, as estações do ano, os pontos cardeais, as fases da lua, as marés e os eclipses, só por meio da observação da natureza. Qualquer criança pode começar a entender isso sem a complicação matemática, então é uma maneira alternativa e prazerosa para ensinar também os não índios, antes de se aplicar a ciência formal”, conclui Germano.

Saber dos xamãs jaguares do Yuruparí é nomeado patrimônio imaterial (Folha de S.Paulo)

27/11/2011 – 06h19

DA EFE

O saber tradicional dos xamãs jaguares do Yuruparí, na Amazônia colombiana, entrou neste domingo para a Lista Representativa do Patrimônio Cultural Imaterial da Humanidade da Unesco.

O comitê de analistas da Unesco aprovou sua inclusão durante reunião em Bali, na Indonésia, ao considerar que este modo de vida, herança milenar dos ancestrais, é um sistema integral de conhecimento com características físicas e espirituais.

“Esta notícia é um enorme esperança para a comunidade que tem plena certeza de que esta decisão é um instrumento de salvaguarda desta sabedoria”, disse o diretor de Patrimônio da Colômbia, Juan Luis Isaza, em seu discurso de agradecimento.

Os xamãs do Yuruparí transmitem “uma cosmovisão associada a um território sagrado para eles, um conhecimento graças ao qual acham que o mundo pode estar em equilíbrio”, explicou Isaza.

Os jaguares de Yuruparí, que habitam nas cercanias do rio Pirá Paraná, transmitem por via masculina e desde o nascimento o Hee Yaia Keti Oka, uma sabedoria que foi entregue a eles desde suas origens pelos Ayowa (criadores) para cuidar do território e da vida.

O diretor de Patrimônio da Colômbia detalhou que esta cultura está ameaçada pela perda de interesse dos mais jovens e a interação com a “arrasadora cultura ocidental”.

A designação também ajudará, segundo Isaza, a combater os perigos que espreitam este povo que viveu sempre isolado do “contato com colonos, madeireiros, mineiros e políticos que, segundo os xamãs, vulneram o território e o equilíbrio”.

“O reconhecimento da Unesco serve para proteger e resgatar não só seu pensamento, também seu território, porque estão profundamente relacionados”, assegurou Isaza.

Expedição no Amazonas vai divulgar astronomia indígena na Semana Nacional de C&T (Jornal A Crítica, de Manaus)

JC e-mail 4365, de 17 de Outubro de 2011.

Calendário indígena do povo dessana associa constelações às mudanças do clima e ao ecossistema amazônico.

Surucucu não é apenas a mais perigosa serpente da Amazônia. Para os povos indígenas da etnia dessana, também é uma das inúmeras constelações que os ajudam a identificar o ciclo dos rios, o período da piracema, a formação de chuvas e sugere o momento ideal para a realização de rituais.

Na astronomia indígena, outubro é o mês do desaparecimento da constelação surucucu (añá em língua dessana) no horizonte oeste – o equivalente a escorpião na astronomia ocidental. O desaparecimento da figura da cobra está associado ao fim do período da vazante. Os dessana têm outras 13 constelações, sempre associadas às alterações climáticas.

Para divulgar a respeito da pouco conhecida astronomia indígena, um grupo de estudiosos promoverá no próximo dia 19 uma expedição de dois dias a uma aldeia da etnia dessana localizada na Reserva de Desenvolvimento Sustentável Tupé, em Manaus.

Expedição – A comunidade é composta por famílias dessana que se deslocaram da região do alto Rio Negro, no Norte do Amazonas, e ressignificaram suas tradições, cosmologias e rituais na comunidade onde se estabeleceram na zona rural de Manaus. O astrônomo Germano Afonso, do Museu da Amazônia (Musa), que desenvolve há 20 anos estudo sobre constelações indígenas no país, coordenará a expedição. Com os dessana, o trabalho de Germano Afonso é desenvolvimento há dois anos.

Ele descreve a programação como um “diálogo” entre a astronomia indígena e o conhecimento científico. “Será um diálogo entre os dois conhecimentos. Vamos escutar os indígenas e ao mesmo tempo levar uma pequena estação meteorológica que mede temperatura e velocidade. A ciência observa com equipamentos, o indígena vê isso empiricamente”, explicou.

Uma embarcação da Secretaria Municipal de Educação (Semed) levará as pessoas interessadas em participar da experiência. “Vamos fazer atividades de astronomia, meteorologia e química com os indígenas. Será uma atividade integrada à Semana de Ciência e Tecnologia”, explica Afonso.

O traço identificado como surucuru pelos indígenas é mais visível por volta de 19h, pelo lado oeste. Depois da surucuru, é a vez do tatu – outra espécie comum na fauna amazônica.

Desastres – Germano Afonso conta que os povos indígenas observam o céu, a lua, as constelações e sabem exatamente qual a época ideal para fazer o roçado, para se prevenir de uma cheia ou de uma seca. Também sabem qual o momento ideal para realizar um ritual.

A diferença em relação ao conhecimento científico, ocidental, é que não utilizam equipamentos e tecnologia para prever alterações do tempo e mudanças do clima. Mas há uma diferença mais significativa: os indígenas não caem vítimas de desmoronamentos, de grandes cheias ou de uma vazante extraordinária.

“Quem tem mais cuidado com o meio ambiente e evitar os desastres ambientais? Os índios sabem exatamente quando vai cair uma chuva forte e teremos uma grande enchente. Mas eles não morrem por causa disso”, destaca Afonso, que tem ascendência indígena guarani.

Trading Knowledge As A Public Good: A Proposal For The WTO (Intellectual Property Watch)

Published on 14 October 2011 @ 2:23 pm

By Rachel Marusak Hermann for Intellectual Property Watch

Years of deadlock in the Doha Round of trade negotiations at the World Trade Organization (WTO) has prompted some to question the institution’s effectiveness, and even, its relevance. But for others, the stalemate seems to be favourable for new ideas and new ways to think about global trade.

During the 19-21 September WTO Public Forum 2011, Knowledge Ecology International (KEI) and IQsensato, both not-for-profit organisations, held a joint panel session on a proposal to the WTO entitled, “An Agreement on the Supply of Knowledge as a Global Public Good.” The 21 September session provided a space to debate the feasibility of adding the supply of public goods involving knowledge as a new category in negotiated binding commitments in international trade.

James Love, director of KEI, presented the idea. “The agreement,” he explained, “combines voluntary offers with binding commitments by governments to increase the supply of heterogeneous public goods. It would be analogous to existing WTO commitments to reducing tariffs, subsidies, or liberalising services.”

Limited access

The idea of “public goods” has been around for a while. A KEI 2008 paper on the proposal, John Kenneth Galbraith’s 1958 book, The Affluent Society, which created a stir about society’s over-supply of private goods versus a growing under-supply of public goods. The KEI paper also cites the contribution to the debate made by Joseph Stiglitz, who identified five global public good categories: international economic stability, international security (political stability), the international environment, international humanitarian assistance, and knowledge.

It’s this last category that KEI would like to see put up for negotiation. According to its 2008 paper, “In recent decades, an influential and controversial enclosure movement has vastly expanded the boundaries of what knowledge can be ‘owned,’ lengthened the legal terms of protection and enhanced the legal rights granted to owners of the collection of legal rights referred to as “intellectual property.”

Proposal advocates argue that in the wake of such knowledge protection, the global community faces an under-supply of public goods, including knowledge. Shandana Gulzar Khan, of the permanent mission of Pakistan to the WTO, seconds this sentiment. “I feel that an acute restriction of access to public goods and services is indeed a reality for the majority of the world’s population.”

Love argued that the WTO is the right international institutional to contribute to the solution. He cited a description of the WTO found on its website: “Above all, it’s a negotiating forum…Essentially, the WTO is a place where member governments go, to try to sort out the trade problems they face with each other…. Although negotiated and signed by governments, the goal is to help producers of goods and services, exporters, and importers conduct their business, while allowing governments to meet social and environmental objectives.”

Defining Good

When it comes to defining what qualifies as a global public good, Love mentioned how the International Task Force on Global Public Goods describes them as goods that “address issues that are deemed to be important to the international community; and that cannot, or will not, be adequately addressed by individual countries acting alone.” The list of such priorities is long and far-reaching.

Examples of potential ask/offers includes collaborative funding of inducement prizes to reward open source innovation in areas of climate change, sustainable agriculture and medicine; agreement to fund biomedical research in areas of great importance, such as new antibiotics, avian influenza, and the development of an AIDS vaccine; funding of projects to improve functionality and usability of free software; and new open public domain tools for distance education.

Some experts cautioned that deriving a universal definition of what constitutes global public goods is a tall task. Panel speaker Antony Taubman, director of the Intellectual Property Division at the WTO, cautioned that public goods do not bring with them an idea of prioritization. “One of the underlying challenges, of course, is how to multi-lateralise the concept of public goods…. What might be considered a high priority public good from one country’s perspective would possibly be even rejected by another country.”

Taubman mentioned hormones for beef or genetically modified crops as current examples of controversial public goods. “Would one country’s contribution of a new drought resistant genetically modified crop really be considered a valuable public good by countries that regarded that as an inappropriate technology?”

Another panellist, José Estanislau do Amaral from the permanent mission of Brazil to the WTO and other economic organisations in Geneva, suggested ways to take the proposal forward.

“There seems to be a double objective in the proposal,” he said. “One is to support the creation of certain public goods and the other one is to increase access to those goods. Both of course are interlinked and they are mutually reinforcing. But they are objectives in themselves…. I am inclined, at this stage, to suggest that there might be benefits in those two objectives being pursued separately. Access to existing knowledge must not be required to wait for the supply of new knowledge.”

The Brazilian official suggested that KEI construct a structured draft treaty of the proposal so there could be a more advanced debate on the idea. Love said that a draft agreement should be ready by the end of February 2012.

Rachel Marusak Hermann may be reached at rachel@rachels-ink.com.

Saber tradicional e lógica científica beneficiam a pesca (Agência USP)

Por Sandra O. Monteiro
Publicado em 13/outubro/2011

Cotidiano e tradições são relevantes para pesca e políticas regionais

Na Lagoa dos Patos, no Rio Grande do Sul, um desacordo entre a forma de exploração de uma comunidade de pescadores e a maneira de pensar a exploração de alguns pesquisadores das ciências naturais impede que políticas públicas para a região sejam efetivas. Isso estimula movimentos socias de desobediência civil contrários a normas estatais firmadas apenas em conceitos “científicos”.

A comunidade em questão está localizada na Ilha dos Marinheiros, segundo distrito da cidade de Rio Grande (RS), na Lagoa dos Patos. O local foi base de um estudo etnográfico desenvolvido pelo oceanógrafo Gustavo Moura, desenvolvido durante seu mestrado no Programa de Pós-graduação em Ciência Ambiental (Procam) da USP. Segundo o pesquisador, as comunidades locais denominam “nosso mar” o pedaço da Lagoa dos Patos em que cada grupo vive e desenvolve sua pesca. “Tal desentendimento impede que políticas públicas para a região sejam efetivas e atuem realmente na conservação dos recursos naturais ou na expansão das liberdades de quem vive da pesca na região”, observa Moura.

A pesquisa foi realizada por meio da vivência (observação de fenômenos naturais e sociais) e de entrevistas com os moradores locais. Para o pesquisador, a ciência por meio de suas metodologias e cálculos não consegue respostas para todos os fatos ou para dar a efetiva precisão a dados sobre fenômenos naturais. E as respostas que a ciência oferece é apenas uma das formas culturais de ver o mundo. A oceanografia clássica, por exemplo, preocupa-se em preservar o ambiente dentro de uma perspectiva exclusiva de análise técnica de um suposto comportamento matemático da natureza. Esquece, no entanto, que nem tudo é exato e exclui, da sua busca por respostas, o diálogo com as ciências humanas e as culturas tradicionais por considerá-las imprecisas. À respeito disto, Moura diz que a ciência oceanográfica não deve ser desconsiderada, mas experiências e valores humanos também são relevantes no estudo de fenômenos naturais e na formulação de políticas públicas.

Oceanografia Humana e Políticas Públicas

A etnoocenagrafia, uma das linhas de pesquisa da Oceanografia Humana, considera as tradições e observações sobre a natureza, que passam de pai para filho, que levam em conta o tempo cíclico da natureza (o vento, a lua e as chuvas, por exemplo). Além disso também observam a forma como cada comunidade interage com o “seu próprio mar” a partir de situações de comércio e em datas religiosas como a Páscoa “em que muitos pescadores não trabalham”, relata o pesquisador.

Oceanografia e antropologia favorecem conservação de recursos pesqueiros

Uma das questões polêmicas relaciona-se à melhor época para se pescar uma determinada espécie. Tem a ver com o tamanho do camarão-rosa, por exemplo. Nem sempre a melhor época para se pescar é de 01 de fevereiro a 31 de maio, como determina a lei de defesa do Instituto Brasileiro do Meio Ambiente e dos Recursos Naturais (Ibama). “Pois a natureza vista pelos pescadores tem uma lógica diferente da lógica científica. Uma espécie atinge o tamanho considerado bom pelos pescadores, frequentemente, numa data diversa da prevista em lei em quase todos os anos, antes ou depois de primeiro de fevereiro”, reflete o Moura.

A troca de informações diárias entre os próprios pescadores é outra situação que alguns pesquisadores e agentes de fiscalização locais não entendem e discriminam pela fato de ocorrerem em festas e bares. Estas trocas de informação tem relação, por exemplo, com a construção das decisões de quando, como e onde pescar dentro do território tradicional de pesca e com um conjunto de relações sociais instituídas pela posse informal de “pedaços de mar”.

Segundo Moura, quando regras tradicionais de uso dos recursos naturais são incorporadas nas políticas públicas, elas podem trazer menores prejuízos ambientais do que se baseadas em pura lógica científica. “Além disso, pode trazer mais liberdade para os pescadores trabalharem, em vez da castração de liberdades como ocorre com a política atual.”

A dissertação Águas da Coréia: pescadores, espaço e tempo na construção de um território de pesca na Lagoa dos Patos (RS) numa perspectiva etnooceanográfica foi orientada pelo professor Antonio Carlos Sant’Ana Diegues. O estudo será publicado na forma de livro pela editora NUPEEA, em 2012. “Águas da Coréia…” será o primeiro livro de etnooceanografia já publicado dentro e fora do Brasil, e uma das poucas publicações disponíveis na área de Oceanografia Humana.

Com informações da Agência Universitária de Notícias (AUN)
Fotos cedidas pelo pesquisador