{"title":"Rewilding and Indigenous-Led Land Care Are Not Compatible Ideas","authors":"Fletcher Michael-Shawn","doi":"10.1111/conl.13107","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"<p>With the stated aim to help rewilding “remain globally relevant,” Derham et al. (<span>2025</span>) attempt to align the rewilding movement with Indigenous-led land care. They do this by seeking to fit an alternative meaning for the word “<i>wild</i>” as “<i>self-willed</i>.” However, phonetically similar in modern English, these words have distinct Proto-Indo-European roots and there is no etymological basis for this shift (Liberman <span>2005</span>). It was first proposed by Nash (<span>1989</span>) to spin an alternative definition to “wilderness” and later applied to “<i>wild</i>” by Griffiths (<span>2007</span>) in her poetic evaluation of the connection between human society and the natural world, in which she sought to inject beauty into the idea of wilderness and reconcile it with the fact that Indigenous people have lived in what the west has denoted as wilderness for millennia.</p><p>As Cronon (<span>1996</span>) points out, the idea of wilderness is culturally constructed, with deep roots in the human psyche and in Christianity. It is a place of Satan (the enemy of humanity), of wild beasts (Old English: <i>wild-deor</i>—a place of wild deer) in the Book of Exodus. Attempts to redefine the words are similarly cultural and reflect attempts to preserve the use of the words in the face of an increasing awareness by western ecologists of the deep interconnectedness between Indigenous peoples and the health of their lands.</p><p>Conservation is a multifaceted concept that generally refers to the protection, preservation, management, and care of our environment. Conservation has its roots in the writings and ideas of Thoreau and Muir, two deeply religious figures who deified nature and frequently invoked the “<i>wild</i>” to describe the majesty they saw in nature. The true definition of “<i>wild</i>” is to be in a state of nature, not tame, not domesticated: land that is uncultivated and uninhabited by humans (Oxford English Dictionary <span>2024</span>). As the name suggests, rewilding seeks to make a place “<i>wild</i>” again. It is a branch of conservation that has focused almost universally on strategies that reduce human intervention in nature over time. It is the discrete attempt to dehumanize our environment—to remove human influence from it and “return” it to its natural state.</p><p>Names are important, because they frame how something is perceived and understood. The words used in naming can, thus, reinforce existing power structures, perpetuate stereotypes, and exclude or marginalize certain groups. “Pro-choice” or “pro-life,” “climate change” or “global warming,” “illegal aliens” or “undocumented immigrants,” “rewilding” or “biocultural restoration”: Each of these names preloads us with ideas that influence how we think and feel (Gann and Matlock <span>2014</span>). They influence the choices we make, actions we take, and the rationale we use to justify those decisions.</p><p>Humans have influenced around 80% of the Earth's surface for at least 12,000 years (Ellis et al. <span>2021</span>). The biodiversity and ecological benchmarks used to define the environmental crises we currently face are, in most instances, the product of human-environment interactions over long periods of time. They are humanized, that is not wild. Framing conservation as rewilding ignores the critical role that humans have in creating, shaping, and maintaining healthy environments over time. Its use creates barriers that stymie Indigenous-led care and management. It is both untrue and unhelpful.</p><p>The solution to the current environmental crises is not misanthropy or a Cartesian division between humans and nature. It requires us to recognize and take up our obligations to our lands, something Indigenous people are acutely aware of. Indeed, Derham et al. (<span>2025</span>) recognize this and present excellent case studies that demonstrate the interconnectedness of people and their environment. They present a powerful case for rejecting the myth of the “<i>wild</i>” in favor of a more appropriate term (such as Biocultural Restoration). Rather, in confecting a conciliation between rewilding and Indigenous practice, they hark back to the awful dehumanizing tropes, ideas, and policies that characterized European and British colonization of Indigenous peoples. A time when non-Indigenous thinkers cast us as nothing more than wild beings, barely (if at all) human.</p><p>It is insulting that after centuries of harm, we are still considered a part of wild nature by some sectors of the conservation community. It is insulting that the commitment to the term rewilding is stronger than the commitment to reconciliation and truth-telling. It is insulting that our knowledges and cultures are still used in efforts that, intentionally or otherwise, dehumanise us. It is insulting that non-Indigenous scholars are still routinely writing about us, not with us. While Derham et al (<span>2025</span>) provided a belated and brief correction to their paper stating there was Indigenous comment on their manuscript, it should be mandatory that research focusing on Indigenous peoples, ideas, and their lands, and research that holds strong implications for Indigenous sovereignty, recognition, and reconciliation, should not be published without Indigenous co-authors or explicit acknowledgment of careful consultation with Indigenous peoples about the content of the study (who may decline co-authorship). In the interests of gaining a full and transparent understanding when Indigenous co-authorship is declined, an explicit statement of whether those consulted approve or disapprove of the central themes should be made.</p><p>Environmental health increases with Indigenous autonomy (Dawson et al. <span>2024</span>), not because of some forced alignment between rewilding and Indigenous practices aimed at maintaining the “global relevance” of the term. It is because Indigenous people care for and know their lands. We know how to appropriately humanize our lands. At a time when we need empowerment, the label of rewilding does nothing but strip it from us. If the aim is to support Indigenous communities to increase environmental health, then truthful names should be adopted, such as Biocultural Restoration or Indigenous-led land care.</p>","PeriodicalId":157,"journal":{"name":"Conservation Letters","volume":"18 3","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":7.7000,"publicationDate":"2025-06-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/conl.13107","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Conservation Letters","FirstCategoryId":"93","ListUrlMain":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/conl.13107","RegionNum":1,"RegionCategory":"环境科学与生态学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"Q1","JCRName":"BIODIVERSITY CONSERVATION","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
With the stated aim to help rewilding “remain globally relevant,” Derham et al. (2025) attempt to align the rewilding movement with Indigenous-led land care. They do this by seeking to fit an alternative meaning for the word “wild” as “self-willed.” However, phonetically similar in modern English, these words have distinct Proto-Indo-European roots and there is no etymological basis for this shift (Liberman 2005). It was first proposed by Nash (1989) to spin an alternative definition to “wilderness” and later applied to “wild” by Griffiths (2007) in her poetic evaluation of the connection between human society and the natural world, in which she sought to inject beauty into the idea of wilderness and reconcile it with the fact that Indigenous people have lived in what the west has denoted as wilderness for millennia.
As Cronon (1996) points out, the idea of wilderness is culturally constructed, with deep roots in the human psyche and in Christianity. It is a place of Satan (the enemy of humanity), of wild beasts (Old English: wild-deor—a place of wild deer) in the Book of Exodus. Attempts to redefine the words are similarly cultural and reflect attempts to preserve the use of the words in the face of an increasing awareness by western ecologists of the deep interconnectedness between Indigenous peoples and the health of their lands.
Conservation is a multifaceted concept that generally refers to the protection, preservation, management, and care of our environment. Conservation has its roots in the writings and ideas of Thoreau and Muir, two deeply religious figures who deified nature and frequently invoked the “wild” to describe the majesty they saw in nature. The true definition of “wild” is to be in a state of nature, not tame, not domesticated: land that is uncultivated and uninhabited by humans (Oxford English Dictionary 2024). As the name suggests, rewilding seeks to make a place “wild” again. It is a branch of conservation that has focused almost universally on strategies that reduce human intervention in nature over time. It is the discrete attempt to dehumanize our environment—to remove human influence from it and “return” it to its natural state.
Names are important, because they frame how something is perceived and understood. The words used in naming can, thus, reinforce existing power structures, perpetuate stereotypes, and exclude or marginalize certain groups. “Pro-choice” or “pro-life,” “climate change” or “global warming,” “illegal aliens” or “undocumented immigrants,” “rewilding” or “biocultural restoration”: Each of these names preloads us with ideas that influence how we think and feel (Gann and Matlock 2014). They influence the choices we make, actions we take, and the rationale we use to justify those decisions.
Humans have influenced around 80% of the Earth's surface for at least 12,000 years (Ellis et al. 2021). The biodiversity and ecological benchmarks used to define the environmental crises we currently face are, in most instances, the product of human-environment interactions over long periods of time. They are humanized, that is not wild. Framing conservation as rewilding ignores the critical role that humans have in creating, shaping, and maintaining healthy environments over time. Its use creates barriers that stymie Indigenous-led care and management. It is both untrue and unhelpful.
The solution to the current environmental crises is not misanthropy or a Cartesian division between humans and nature. It requires us to recognize and take up our obligations to our lands, something Indigenous people are acutely aware of. Indeed, Derham et al. (2025) recognize this and present excellent case studies that demonstrate the interconnectedness of people and their environment. They present a powerful case for rejecting the myth of the “wild” in favor of a more appropriate term (such as Biocultural Restoration). Rather, in confecting a conciliation between rewilding and Indigenous practice, they hark back to the awful dehumanizing tropes, ideas, and policies that characterized European and British colonization of Indigenous peoples. A time when non-Indigenous thinkers cast us as nothing more than wild beings, barely (if at all) human.
It is insulting that after centuries of harm, we are still considered a part of wild nature by some sectors of the conservation community. It is insulting that the commitment to the term rewilding is stronger than the commitment to reconciliation and truth-telling. It is insulting that our knowledges and cultures are still used in efforts that, intentionally or otherwise, dehumanise us. It is insulting that non-Indigenous scholars are still routinely writing about us, not with us. While Derham et al (2025) provided a belated and brief correction to their paper stating there was Indigenous comment on their manuscript, it should be mandatory that research focusing on Indigenous peoples, ideas, and their lands, and research that holds strong implications for Indigenous sovereignty, recognition, and reconciliation, should not be published without Indigenous co-authors or explicit acknowledgment of careful consultation with Indigenous peoples about the content of the study (who may decline co-authorship). In the interests of gaining a full and transparent understanding when Indigenous co-authorship is declined, an explicit statement of whether those consulted approve or disapprove of the central themes should be made.
Environmental health increases with Indigenous autonomy (Dawson et al. 2024), not because of some forced alignment between rewilding and Indigenous practices aimed at maintaining the “global relevance” of the term. It is because Indigenous people care for and know their lands. We know how to appropriately humanize our lands. At a time when we need empowerment, the label of rewilding does nothing but strip it from us. If the aim is to support Indigenous communities to increase environmental health, then truthful names should be adopted, such as Biocultural Restoration or Indigenous-led land care.
期刊介绍:
Conservation Letters is a reputable scientific journal that is devoted to the publication of both empirical and theoretical research that has important implications for the conservation of biological diversity. The journal warmly invites submissions from various disciplines within the biological and social sciences, with a particular interest in interdisciplinary work. The primary aim is to advance both pragmatic conservation objectives and scientific knowledge. Manuscripts are subject to a rapid communication schedule, therefore they should address current and relevant topics. Research articles should effectively communicate the significance of their findings in relation to conservation policy and practice.