Abstract: Since the Tribal Self Governance Act was passed in 1994, the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes (CSKT) in western Montana have sought increased management responsibilities at the National Bison Range, which is fully encompassed by the Flathead Indian Reservation. Though the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has managed the Bison Range since it was established in 1908, the Tribes assert that they were the original stewards of bison in the area, and have requested both the reinstatement of the National Bison Range to Tribal trust ownership and increased management responsibilities through negotiated Annual Funding Agreements with the Department of Interior. In their negotiations, however, the CSKT and their advocates are met with ongoing local and national opposition that has been characterized by the Montana Human Rights Network as anti-Indian racist. Using literature on settler colonialism theory and concepts from critical whiteness studies like white fragility and colorblind racism, this research examines how and the degree to which present-day opposition to increased Tribal management perpetuates a settler colonialist project at the National Bison Range. Additionally, this work explores the nature of the claims opponents make and articulates how settler colonialism is a form of structural racism. Through a qualitative analysis of 68 public comments and the transcripts of 17 in-depth interviews, this study finds that opponents of increased Tribal management furthers a settler colonialist project at the National Bison Range through racialized settler discourse that exhibits white fragility and colorblind racism. That the CSKT continue to reject their own erasure, however, prevents the completion of the settler colonialist project. Finally, this work suggests that future research might continue to link settler colonialism with concepts like white fragility and colorblind racism to better describe settler colonialism as a project of white supremacy, particularly for natural resource management issues in the United States.




Abstract: Settler colonialism implicates settler and Indigenous populations differently within ongoing projects of settlement and nation building. The uneven distribution of benefits and harms is a primary consequence of settler colonialism. Indeed, it is a central organizing feature of the settler state’s governance of Indigenous societies and is animated, in part, through pervasive settler ignorance and anti-Indigenous racism, which has manifested in persistent health disparities amongst Indigenous peoples. This broader socio-political context surrounding medical schools, which are seeking to develop teaching and learning about Indigenous health presents a significant challenge. Understanding the cognitive and affective tools that settler educators use when grappling with questions of race, racialization, and Indigenous difference is an important step in addressing anti-Indigenous racism in health care provision. This paper reports on findings from in-depth semi-structured interviews with educators at one Canadian medical school. Our intent was to elicit respondents’ understandings, experiences, and attitudes regarding Indigenous-settler relations, Indigenous health and healthcare, and the inclusion of Indigenous health in the curriculum as a means of identifying facilitators and barriers to improving Indigenous health and health care experiences. Respondents were generally sympathetic and evinced an earnest desire to include more Indigenous-related content in the curriculum. What became clear over the course of the data collection and analysis, however, was that most respondents lacked the tools to engage critically with questions of race and racialization and how these are manifested in the context of asymmetrical settler colonial power. We argue that this inability, at best, limits the effectiveness of much needed efforts to incorporate more content relating to Indigenous health, but worse yet, risks re-entrenching anti-Indigenous racism and settler dominance.


Abstract: In this article, I advance the idea of ecopsychology as a form of decolonial praxis. If, as I suggest, ecopsychology is a project to overcome the fracturing of reality into the separate regions of Psyche, Nature, and Society, then we must ask how these regions became so disconnected in the first place. The answer I offer here is that these divisions are inherent in modern capitalist civilization, which survives to this day only through continuous processes of disconnection and colonization. It follows that decolonization is the deepest context for developing ecopsychology’s theory and practice aimed at reintegrating Psyche, Nature, and Society. In order not to conflate non-Indigenous or settler decolonization with Indigenous decolonization, I introduce the term “lifeworld decolonization” for the former. This distinction allows us to recognize the complex overlap between these two forms of decolonization, which makes room for solidarity, while granting a specific primacy to Indigenous decolonization and underscoring how non-Indigenous peoples have historically benefited from colonialism. Indeed, turning toward the topic of Indigenous decolonization forces an “unsettling” of ecopsychology, which may lead the field toward a more coherent, mature, reflexive, and historically relevant understanding of itself. In the course of my argument, I engage with the ontological and decolonial turns in social theory in order to demonstrate what the transformation of Psychology into ecopsychology might involve when the field both learns from and commits itself toward Indigenous decolonization.





Excerpt: In the United States what constitutes “public lands” has never been stable. Notions of the public and their commons were a fickle matter of political contest and power relations before the beginning of what is currently called America. Today, who and what serve to underwrite, define, and profit from “public lands” is a debate often expressed in cataclysmic language. Militarized government officials and extrastate militias extend across our shared social, political, and physical landscapes, as our terrains seem to scar, wither, blister, and combust in ways even our most apocalyptic and dystopic imaginations struggle to comprehend. Can we protect a piece of this world for all of us? Can we fight for the land that we live in and love? How do we survive the end of the world that seems so fast approaching? Who are the “we” in these questions?

The issues that immediately arise in discussions of the commons—namely whose commons and for what purposes—often still assume a public that is, in fact, particular to white settler subjects. As a settler scholar raised by uninvited hippies, loggers, and mill workers on Kalapuyailihi (Kalapuya homelands), I frequently find myself implicit in the publics universalized in, and made invisible by, current debates over public lands. From my vantage point in the middle of this “we” supposedly anticipating or already suffering the beginning of the end of the world of public lands, it is difficult to decipher the apocalyptic language commoning settler colonial capitalism, making it, as it were, so ordinary as to be almost imperceptible. Almost.

This article takes two examples of contemporary debates over public lands as paradigmatic case studies for the ways apocalyptic appeals populate and naturalize the “settler commons” across the spectrum of US politics.