Indigenous Knowledge and Navigating the Rising Tides of Climate Change and Other Existential Threats

Existential threats to Indigenous People’s lands, cultures, and languages are exacerbated and intensified by climate change and its effects, particularly to those groups deeply connected to natural systems. Through five case vignettes situated in Alaska, Yap State, and the Republic of the Marshall Islands, this paper describes adaptive responses at the intersection of Indigenous Knowledge (IK) and climate change. Though their locations, history, and customs vary, they share an underlying similarity in the urgency expressed for their Traditional Ecological Knowledge to be part of a response that leads to sustainability. Navigating these rising and turbulent waters requires new ways of thinking, political will, governmental leadership, and values commensurate with harmonious living. To write this paper required a significant change in a paradigm that guided my work in ethnomathematics from the school context to the larger social-cultural-ecological systems.


BACKGROUND: BIOSPHERE AND ETHNOSPHERE
The economics of large advanced technological and industrial societies (generally) disregard the adage "there is no such thing as a free lunch." When large industrialized societies do not take responsibility for the impacts of their acts, that is, when there is insufficient regulation or lack of mutual agreement, the marginal gains they enjoy for "taking one more fish" can lead to the "tragedy of the commons" (Hardin, 1968). 3 Earth's commons, Mother Earth's bounties, have suffered degraded ecosystems, from exploitation of fisheries to careless extractive mining and oil and gas exploration. The Ecological Footprint (Wackernagel & Beyers, 2019) is a metric accounting of the earth's resilience and carrying capacity versus the demands placed on it per person or per country per year. Humanity exceeds the earth's sustainability by 1.6 earths (https://www.footprintnetwork.org/our-work/ecological-footprint/). This strain on the earth's capacity is predicted to grow exponentially over the next few decades. The strain factors include overpopulation, the concomitant problem of waste, the ill-effects of burning fossil fuels, overconsumption, the influx of alien species, and the loss of biodiversity and cultural diversity (see Chapin, 2020, for a comprehensive overview of this topic).

Indigenous Knowledge in Navigating Climate Change
The loss of Indigenous Knowledge has increasingly been cited as a loss for all humanity. The Intergovernmental Science Policy-Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) "is the first global-level assessment to systematically consider evidence about the contributions of Indigenous and local knowledge and practices" (IPBES, 2019, p. 3). The IPBES summary for policymakers states, "indigenous peoples and local communities have often managed their landscapes and seascapes in ways that were adjusted to local conditions over generations. These management methods often remain compatible with, or actively support, biodiversity conservation by 'accompanying' natural processes" (IPBES, p. 31). Indigenous People make up a small percent of the world's population, yet they occupy approximately 25% of Earth's land areas. These areas include most of the world's diverse species (Veit & Reytar, 2017) and account for most of the world's linguistic and cultural diversity (Davis, 2003).
The case vignettes were chosen because they represent the qualities mentioned earlier of efforts that break the mold and hold promise for establishing transformative relationships. Each vignette, with its unique circumstances and contexts, intersects the social-cultural-ecological system at a different point. Together, they provide insights into a regenerative social-cultural ecology. Three case vignettes are from Alaska, one is from the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM), and one is from the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI). The Pacific centric map in Figure 1 highlights the atolls and islands of FSM and RMI (not drawn to scale) and Alaska. The U.S. Constitution established a government-to-government relationship with American Indian tribes, an asymmetrical trust relationship which states that the federal government holds the final say in American Indian affairs. The states lack the authority to settle Aboriginal land claims. Yet, executive and state policies, among other actions, were used to dislocate, take land away from, and brutally treat the Aboriginal People of the U.S. The discovery in 1967 of massive oil reserves in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, was the catalyst to settle the state's Aboriginal land claims to enable the flow of oil. In 1971, the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) resolved land ownership between Alaska Native people, the state, and the federal government, establishing 12 Regional Native Corporations, for-profit village corporations, and nonprofit corporations. ANCSA created a capitalistic model which injected a possible divide between forprofit and nonprofit Native organizations.

Inspiration, Resistance and Resilience
All of us can draw strength and inspiration from a small group of Inupiaq hunters and their allies who thwarted the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), which planned to set off nuclear bombs near Point Hope, Alaska, to develop a deep-water port (O'Neill, 1994). The cold war tensions between the USSR and the U.S. led the Atomic Energy Commission to send scientists to northwest Alaska to explain the development of the port. Though the project was supported by the President of the University of Alaska, a group of scientists from the university did not support the plan. They provided technical assistance and moral support to the small group of Inupiaq hunters who opposed the AEC. The U.S. government did not expect resistance from this surprisingly informed group of hunters. One of the hunters had served in the armed forces during World War II and was keenly aware of the devastation of nuclear bombs. His unit had been detailed with "cleaning up" nuclear bomb aftermath (see Firecracker Boys by Dan O'Neill, 1994, for more details). This historical incident at Point Hope raises a theme that appears throughout this paper, how resistance to oppressive incursions into Indigenous land and threats to Indigenous lifeways became a catalyst to form unlikely collaborative partnerships. Resistance is occurring in the Bristol Bay region of Alaska, home of the Yupiaq people, and the world's richest sockeye salmon fishery and the proposed location of a business venture, Pebble Mine, which would be one of the largest gold, copper, and molybdenum mines in the world. For over 20 years, Yupiaq organizations have fought against the proposed development of the Pebble Mine. Unemployment is high throughout the region, and the mine would offer employment to some local Yupiaq people and communities. Yet, the pristine waters of Bristol Bay provide bodily and spiritual sustenance to the Yupiaq. Dora Andrew-Ihrke (long-term colleague) and her uncle, Bobby Andrew, 4 before her, have been fighting this mine, and now her son continues in this resistance. Another case of resistance in Alaska is that of the Gwich'in People of Arctic Village and Venetie, who continue their 30-year struggle to resist oil development in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) because of their sacred ties to the land and caribou. Some Indigenous for-profit organizations on the Alaska North Slope established by ANCSA support oil development. There are different levels of support and opposition across Alaska Native communities as more large-scale mining developments affect swaths of Alaska, highlighting a fundamental dilemma between the protection of subsistence resources and traditional practices of hunting, fishing, and gathering, and opportunities presented in a cash-based economy.

The Desire for Western Schooling: Traveling Downstream
In the early 1970s, only seven certified Alaska Native teachers were employed throughout the state of Alaska. Except for the bilingual aides and instructors, the curriculum, teachers, principals, and superintendents were mostly from elsewhere (Kawagley, 2006;Lipka with Mohatt & the Ciulistet Group, 1998). Keenly aware of the acculturation process occurring in rural Alaska, the organization Yupiktak Bista (1974) wrote a report entitled, Does one way of life have to die so that another can live? They stressed the desire of local Yupiaq communities for schooling while painfully recognizing the alienating effects of schooling on students' identity. In 1974 the University of Alaska Fairbanks (UAF) created a teacher education program for rural and Indigenous students. One key objective of this program was to have schools reflect a community's culture.
I arrived in Alaska in 1981 to join this teacher education program in the Bristol Bay region. One of my students, William Gumlickpuk, who was the mayor, a commercial salmon fisher, and a teacher aide in the village of New Stuyahok, invited me to go on a hunting trip. We traveled by motorized skiff from New Stuyahok up the Nushagak River and further upstream on the Mulchatna River. These rivers are part of the rich Bristol Bay salmon fishery. Mile after mile, the country and the river were pristine. The earth's bounty was all around us. Some hours later, we met up with other hunting parties from New Stuyahok and stopped for tea and pilot bread at a sandy gravel bar at the confluence of the Stuyahok and Mulchatna rivers. Usually at gatherings, stories are told. I recall Chief Ivan Blunka telling how he decided decades before to move the old village to New Stuyahok (in Yup'ik 5 Cetuyaraq, which literally means "to go with the river current") 6 . We returned to the boats and traveled to the original village site of Stuyahok, where we stopped once again and briefly got out. Chief Blunka mentioned that he had wanted the youth to have an education, but that the old village site was too far upstream for the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) to establish a school. (It was the BIA that provided education to Indigenous Alaskans while Alaska was still a U.S. territory, until 1959.) Chief Blunka moved the village to the new location of New Stuyahok sometime in the 1940s, and in the early 1950s the BIA established a school. William Gumlickpuk was one of the youngsters in the 1950s to experience formal Western schooling.
Unfortunately, I do not believe that Elders such as Chief Ivan Blunka-who made large sacrifices to have a school-ever expected that the school would accelerate the process of culture and language loss. Nor would he ever have imagined what is happening today: that just a few miles upstream of the old village site helicopters would be flying around and landing at an international mining company's camp site, preparing to develop a mega mine near ancestral lands, 7 the headwaters of this rich salmon fishery, and unspoiled wilderness. Nor did I foresee the extent of all these changes.

The Path Not Taken with the Long-term Practitioner Scholar Group
A key outcome of working in the teacher education program in Bristol Bay was the formation of a long-term collaborative group of newly minted teachers, Yupiaq Elders from this and other regions, and academic consultants. The formation of the group developed out of mutual respect and common goals regarding cultural continuity. Most Elders desired that their youth become thinkers, problem-solvers, and bilingual speakers. The immediate effect of working with Elders was that the Yupiaq teachers, teachers-to-be, and academic consultants kept marveling at the Elders' knowledge. Our informal, committed group was familial. For example, some Elders following tradition named my children after their recently deceased relatives, creating fictive kinship ties. As trust developed in the group, Elders and Yupiaq teachers began sharing humiliating experiences. Frederick George, an Elder and one of the most intelligent and creative Threats. Revista Latinoamericana de Etnomatemática, 13(3), 29-61. DOI: 10.22267/relatem.20133.66 37 persons I have ever met, stated how he had been treated by "outsiders" as if he was a "know nothing." An administrator of a local school district, which financially supported the group's early meetings, said (paraphrasing), "you [teacher and Elder group] won't find anything because they do not have any culture." I was incredibly fortunate to work with such a dedicated, hardworking, and gifted group of Yupiaq Elders and former Yupiaq students who graduated from the teacher education program, particularly Evelyn Yanez, Dora Andrew-Ihrke, and Sassa Peterson.
All were a critical cohesive part of our work for the next 35 years.
Because I have written extensively on the group's long-term collaborative work in ethnomathematics and pedagogy (see Lipka, with Mohatt & the Ciulistet Group, 1998;Lipka et al., 2019;Lipka, 1991;& Lipka, 1990), I will not describe it here. Instead, I will focus on the path not taken by imagining how we could have recentered our work with community and Tribal organizations as a counterforce to the assimilationist practices of schooling and, more positively, created new community spaces to deliberately involve youngsters in their culture's rich traditions. Instead of expending so much energy within the chaos of these schools-disruptions that resulted from rapid turnover of teachers and superintendents, and changes in curriculumwe could have changed the group's orientation by working more directly with tribal and community organizations while continuing to work with the school. Our group could have sought new spaces with the tribal organizations and with a variety of regional, state, federal, and university programs where they intersect Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK). These speculations stem from work we did with scientists and Elders that most likely would have been embraced by Tribal entities.

Changing Paradigms and Reimagining
The Yupiaq teachers and Elders group was an enduring, powerful, and creative force. At the peak of our efforts, 70 Elders were involved, and a 10-member core group worked for the project's duration or until their passing. 8 The concept of "cultural camps" as a way to reinforce and support TEK has long been proposed (Kawagley, 2006;Chapin, Knapp, Brinkmann, Bronen, & Cochran, 2016;Barajas-López & Bang, 2018). In Alaska, fish camps occur each spring/summer as villagers move downriver closer to bays. Fish camps are a part of Indigenous cultural practices, a time when fish are caught, cleaned, dried, smoked, and usually shared amongst family groups. Modeled on fish camps, cultural camps could be authentic sites for cultural transmission through a variety of activities led by Elders to help retain and reinforce local TEK. Groups such as ours-Yupiaq Elders, teachers, and university academics-could have worked with Tribal entities supporting local cultural activities in the community.
Knowledge learned in the cultural camp could then have been bridged with schools. In actuality, Elders who were part of the core group did, at some community meetings, create school-based curriculum material with Yupiaq and nonYupiaq teachers, insider and outsider academics, and ethnomathematicians. These were powerful moments that, in retrospect, could have and should have occurred more frequently (see Lipka with Mohatt & the Ciulistet Group, 1998).

Turning Points
The core group of Elders would have been keenly interested in working on issues pertaining to observed changes to the environment. Our group would have had ample opportunities to work with scientists studying changes in climate, land ecology, and the salmon watersheds. State and federal agencies charged with subsistence use of the lands would have provided additional opportunities. How do I know? I know because in an early stage of our group we did work with scientists from the university; we did work with state and federal agencies concerning reestablishing a caribou herd. We did work directly with local and regional Native corporations regarding land use and involving youth from outlying villages, and we coordinated with local school districts and developed the Bristol Bay Curriculum Project (Lipka & Willer, 1985) that supported these efforts.
In 1995 I submitted my first federally sponsored research proposal in ethnomathematics and ethnoscience. The research sponsors asked us to drop ethnoscience. Ironically, this laid the foundation for my/our work in ethnomathematics within a school setting. This work going forward was entitled Math in a Cultural Context (https://www.uaf.edu/mcc/).

Star Navigation as a Cultural Camp Experience
Frederick George was one of the few remaining star navigators when I met him, and we worked together for approximately 7 years before we could write the Star Navigation curriculum module for the Math in a Cultural Context (MCC) program which was sponsored by the National Science Foundation (NSF). In part, it took 7 years because the concepts behind Frederick's words and bodily gestures were difficult to comprehend by both insiders and outsiders, including (https://uaf.edu/mcc/files/posters/MCC_Sky_Map_CC.pdf).
To star navigate, you need to know such things as how to predict weather and how to build emergency shelters; you need to memorize place names and observe subtle environmental clues from seasonal indicators such as snow waves and "paths" created by frozen grass covered by snow. You also need knowledge of traditional methods of measuring angles, accounting for time and distance, stories that reinforce routes, and how wind-bent trees provide direction. Frederick clearly showed us how Kaviaraat (the Fox) contains Agyarrluk (the North Star) which is at the center of his system; the two constellations that rotate around the North Star are Tunturyuk (the Caribou) which refers to the Big Dipper and Oengartarak (the Nose with Two Nostrils) which refers to Cassiopeia providing critical information about time, location, and direction. Figure 2 is a computer enhanced version of how Frederick George and other Yupiaq Elders drew their view of Cassiopeia, the North Star, and the Big Dipper. Parenthetically, years later the practitioner/scholar group realized the importance of qukaq (the center) as an underlying concept that cuts across most everyday activities. It functions as a place to measure from, to begin projects, and to orient frames of reference, and it was used by For example, according to Jacobson (1984) and Tamura (2017) the demonstrative system in the Yup'ik language (like the English this/that) and adverbs (like the English here/there) has a total of 30 sets, while English has two sets. Some examples of the Yup'ik system include closeness to the speaker, up/down, in/out, moving/stationary, and visible/obscured, and some demonstratives are coordinated with glances. This complex system assists in establishing frames of reference.
Learning these cultural nuances and how to star navigate can only be achieved under the night sky through apprenticeship. The ability to process visual sensory inputs, from stars and landmarks to body sensations experienced when crossing snow waves, and interpret them in realtime, can only occur under these epistemic conditions.

Collaborating with Tribal Organizations (to strengthen traditional culture knowledge)
The MCC program held intensive two-week-long Summer Math Institutes at the University of knowledge and the potential support from leaders in the Yupiit 10 sovereignty movement and the local school board, it may well have been possible to further establish these novel spaces.
Shifting the emphasis of our work from the school to community organizations could have been a strategy more in line with a regenerative social-cultural ecology. 11 10 Mike Williams is the chief of the Yupiit Nation, a group of federally recognized tribes centered in Akiachak, Akiak, and Tulusak in the Kuskokwim area of Alaska. The word Yupiit is plural, Yupiaq is dual, and Yup'ik is singular. 11 In fairness to our previous efforts, we chose to work within the school context, wanting to meet the requirements of Western schooling in a way that was supported both by the Elders and the Yupiaq teachers. This was a good model.

Background
The Alaska Gateway School District (AGSD) is on the road system in Alaska's eastern Interior near the Canadian border. The AGSD consists of 7 schools and approximately 430 students. The district's largest population center is Tok, with a population almost 80% Caucasian, while the rest of the district is mostly Athabaskan.
This school district tends to be politically conservative. Unlike many Alaska school districts, the AGSD has had stable and innovative leadership. I worked with Dora Andrew-Ihrke in this district for many years providing support for the MCC curriculum, including teacher inservice workshops, classroom observations and co-teaching, and some discussion with Indigenous community members and teachers-in-training. A few years ago, the AGSD formally adopted the MCC supplemental math curriculum based on Yupiaq Elders' Knowledge. An enthusiastic future teacher from Tetlin village joined our Elder/teacher group for a few years.

A School District's Stewardship-Cleaner Energy, Lowering Carbon Footprint, Healthy Food, and Forest Fire Burn Strategies
This vignette centers on the AGSD's interest in local energy production and consumption, carbon emissions, healthy food production, and stewardship of the surrounding taiga forest. The vignette is presented as narrative, spoken by Scott MacManus, the school district superintendent, about fostering transformational innovations.
To break dependence on dirty fuels, Scott developed a set of atypical relationships that cross school boundaries and extend to village governments, the regional nonprofit Native organization (Tanana Chiefs Conference/TCC), the local energy company, the community of Tok, and the Alaska Energy Authority. He described his efforts to me as follows: I first started this project because Tok has a problem with wildfires. I have lived in Tok for 22 years. During this time, my family and I had to mobilize and ready ourselves to evacuate on a moment's notice on four separate occasions. Two times we did evacuate. Wildfire is an issue. We have a super thick taiga forest (white and black spruce with lichen and moss). The forest contains a high amount of biomass. [In recent years, Alaska's Interior temperatures have grown warmer, and fires have become more frequent and intense.] Fire will race through the forest at 30 miles an hour. This creates a dangerous situation. I would notice local guys burn massive piles of spruce and manage these fires. This method of fire suppression created dense smoke. One night I met with this guy Jeff. He suggested the idea of using the wasted biomass to heat the school. The Alaska Energy Authority (AEA) came to our community to talk about innovative energy grants. They held a town hall meeting in Tok. Jeff and I asked AEA if we could present at this community meeting. They were not encouraging. We set up our presentation anyway. We were prepared for a 10minute presentation. The presentation became the meeting. After the meeting, one member of AEA encouraged us to apply for a grant. We had already run some feasibility projects. We applied and received approximately 3.5 million dollars. We put together a hydronic (heated hot water running through pipes and transferring heat to the school) heating system. It heats water to 180 degrees, and it can heat the Tok school. When you crunch the numbers, the project pays for itself. However, I wanted to include steam to power electricity.
The local utility company rejected Scott's plan for powering electricity. Scott realized that if he added a steam boiler to the project he could heat and provide electricity to the school. He was able to negotiate a small grant to pay for the steam boiler. Through lobbying the state legislature, he was able to get a sufficient grant to develop a steam system. With out-of-the-box thinking, Scott was able to locate a 60 kw Elliot turbine generator and have it repaired and shipped across the country to Tok, where it became fully operational in 2014 and has been used ever since.
We are now working on a cooperative venture with the Tribal Councils in Mentasta and Northway. The new projects include: a) biomass in Mentasta, and b) a biomass energy and greenhouse system for Northway. The idea for Tetlin did not work; it was a cord wood system. You have to cut the wood and use it like a wood stove; it is labor intensive and hard to control the system…it was not a chip bed system.
We had too much heat. The system needs to be running cool enough to work properly and we put in the greenhouse to offset the heat load. The greenhouse is 33 feet by 100 feet long. It is just like a standard commercial greenhouse. Engineers designed it.
The students are now involved in Arctic Agriculture, and we treat it as a commercial endeavor and offset the costs. This has improved the quality of the food that we serve to students. Students work in the greenhouse year-round. We have classes in Arctic Agriculture, and articulated biology classes with the university. As we gain more efficiency, we will produce 10,000 pounds of produce a year-lettuce, broccoli, carrots, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes. The kids love to work in the greenhouses. The greenhouse related classes fill right up.

Fire control:
We have a Wildfire Community Prevention Plan. It identifies biomass on state land. We cut trees and brush strategically, allowing staging for firefighters. These cuts supply wood/fuel for the power plant. It is a coordinated effort.
Experienced cut crews [many from local villages] train novice firefighters on how to make cuts that make out-of-control fires less likely. They work all summer as a team. They get all the certifications that they need to fight fires. Young men and women come and get the training. The management of the crews is being filled from within this group. It is the only project like this in the state.
The project's collaborators include TCC fire crews, the Alaska State Division of Forestry in Tok, the Alaska Energy Authority, and the University of Alaska Fairbanks. This case is not an example that includes Indigenous Knowledge; however, the innovative thinking and cooperation of the community, Tribal groups, and others involved help educate students in energy use and land stewardship, and has helped to reduce energy costs in Native villages and create employment opportunities. In addition, this project is poised to grow. Projects like this can have a ripple effect, as other districts may well want to pursue such options particularly when costs come down. The opportunity for involving Indigenous Knowledge is possible, as studies by Chapin, Trainor, Huntington, et al. (2008) show that some Interior Tribal groups used preventive fire burns to suppress wildfires and to encourage the growth of plants that the village relied on.

Background
The Engineers. The consequences of a decision that permits Pebble Mine to operate will affect the entire region 12 .

An Epiphany
F. Stuart Chapin III, known as Terry, is a world-class ecologist, a member of the National Academy of Science, and the recipient of numerous awards. Terry's epiphany (Chapin, 2020, p. (Carucci, 1995, p. 21). One part of the canoe supports all the other parts (Genz, 2018, location 1190. In this regard, "canoe" and "navigation" are viewed symbolically as connecting the past to the future and are foundational to outer islanders in Yap State and Marshallese cultures.

Brief Overview
The FSM and the RMI are located in the western and central Pacific Ocean, and consist of high and low-lying islands, islets, atolls, and coral reefs in a huge expanse of water (Carucci & Poyer, 2017, p. 207). Different cultural and linguistic groups traveled to and settled these island nations. they rely more heavily on farming, cultivating plants, raising animals, and making use of the sea's bounty. This simple overview generally holds throughout Micronesia (Feinberg, 1995).
In the modern era, this region has been colonized by England, Spain, Germany, Japan, and the U.S. Each successive wave of colonizers impacted the local cultural group and its practices.

Adaptations to a Rapidly Changing World
To the east of the main Yap Islands is a low-lying chain of coral islands closer in language and culture to Chuuk. These islands were home to traditional voyaging schools. Such schools as the one in Satawal were instrumental in reviving traditional canoe navigation in Polynesia under the leadership of Mau Piailug, a master navigator. Larry Raigetal grew up on neighboring Lamotrek, a small atoll. People from these atolls are commonly referred to as Rei-metau, which means "people of the ocean." In fact, Larry Raigetal's cousin, Ali Haleyalur, is considered a grand master navigator, and he is an important part of Waa'gey.
Because of rising sea levels, the ecology of these islands is dramatically threatened by saltwater intrusion into the islands' aquifers, and more frequent storm washover events. The plant and tree ecology of the area, which once consisted of sufficient stands of pandanus, coconut, taro, and other species, now is threatened by rising brackish waters. These plants were used for weaving, canoe carving, foods, and beverages. In a way, they were the perfect ecologically sustainable natural resource, having multiple uses with minimal impacts (for a more detailed account see Carucci & Poyer, 2017, p. 210). Increased imports of non-biodegradable products also impact the lagoons and lands. With the subsistence economy increasingly under threat and the need for cash and employment becoming more critical within the population, outmigration has become the choice of many. The experience of living away increased Larry's appreciation of his cultural traditions, community cohesiveness, and the knowledge associated with living on outer islands.

Coming Home-Embracing Traditions and Modernity
Waa'gey is not only the name of a community-based organization, but also is a word that describes a cultural way of being for the Indigenous People of these islands. They believe that their ancestors developed the most suitable and sustainable ways of successfully living in this island and ocean environment. Larry Raigetal believes that the ancestors of his people were geniuses, as they developed the skills, knowledge, and technologies that allowed them to live so well.
Theirs was a true stewardship system designed to sustain future generations by caring for mother earth. Waa'gey is dedicated to keeping traditional practices alive, including skills of seafaring, weaving, handicraft making, and sustainable methods of using resources such as local fish traps by engaging our elders, who can pass these vital skills on to the younger generation, especially as climate change forces islanders to relocate, altering social structures and these traditional practices. [Raigetal, https://ichcourier.unesco-ichcap.org/article/climatechange-and-its-impact-on-the-culture-of-the-remote-outer-  Lamotrek decided to weave a traditional pandanus sail. The essence of Waa'gey is bringing together Elders and youth, some as young as five years old. The pwo ceremony involves the community in song, dance, rituals, prayers, and the construction of canoes and sails. During the pwo ceremony, canoes were launched and two new master carvers were initiated. The following excerpt comes from a video of Waa'gey's preparations for the festival in Guam.
Part of Waa'gey's traditional cultural knowledge was to have the community of Lamotrek weave a traditional voyaging sail made from pandanus leaves. This is an ambitious project and had not been done for years. It involves the entire community. Women harvest the leaves, dry and split, and weave them into a special mat. The men stitch together the mats with rope that makes them into a sail. Yet at the start of the project there was a big problem.
No one seemed to know the entire process. They realized at the very last moment that Maria, an elderly very sick woman, had this knowledge. Once she taught the women how to weave the pandanus leaves, it took 50 women working full-time for two-weeks to weave the sail.
[The narrator continues speaking in the present tense as the actions and ceremonies unfold.] With the ability to weave the sail the community wove a message about climate change into the sail. Larry Raigetal hoped the woven message in the sail will raise awareness at FesPac and beyond. Before the sailing the community held a departure ceremony. Ali will be the captain of the largest canoe and then sanctioned to be the lead for the voyaging canoe. He needs to be purified. After that, through sanctifying ceremonies, final blessings, and empowerment, Ali purifies the group and cuts away the fears and doubts and insecurities that the boys (crews) may have. After the final blowing of the conch the ceremony was concluded, and the voyage begins. [excerpt from Waa'gey, a video located at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZGZP2fR6ic] The voyage to Guam was not without incident. Stormy weather presented a new obstacle as one Lamotrek canoe broke its mast and another began taking on water, and one had to be rescued by the US Coast Guard and towed to Guam. As they neared Guam, the voyaging canoes sailed into the harbor under their own power and they were warmly greeted by festival participants. At the opening ceremonies of the Festival of Pacific Arts, Larry Raigetal discussed the fragility of cultural and ecological systems. This fragility was manifested with the death of Maria, who passed on her knowledge to the women of Lamotrek. Larry Raigetal expressed his deep concern about climate change effects on the outer islands, the future disruption of the People's way of life that would follow such effects, and the uncertainty that all this was causing the community.

Introduction
This case vignette is introduced by the activism of Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner, a Marshallese poet, performance artist, and educator. An inspiring individual who is working with the youth on Majuro, Marshall Islands, Kathy was selected from 500 candidates to speak at the United Nations Climate Summit in New York in 2014 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4fdxXo4tnY).
At the Summit, Kathy read her poem to the attendees, an emphatic promise to her infant (paraphrased) that no one will take away your land, your home, or your heritage. Kathy is deeply rooted in these specks of land that were once a large Pacific volcano atop an ocean tectonic plate that slowly shifted westward and subsided over the eons and became tiny vulnerable atolls. The Marshall atolls were home to some of the finest carved canoes in the Pacific. Exceptional craftsmanship was coupled with the extraordinary skills of wave pilots-master navigators. This case vignette briefly explores the unimaginable-that the canoe and wave finding (the traditional skill of sensing subtle wave patterns) may literally and figuratively be able to navigate these treacherously rising waters by reinvigorating cultural pride embodied in the canoe, using advanced canoe technology to reduce the carbon footprint, and open economic possibilities.

The Fallout from the U.S. "Protectorship"
After World War II, the United Nations (UN) was authorized to protect and promote the welfare of the Marshallese people and inhabitants of other parts of the central and western Pacific. The U.N. granted authority to the U.S. to administer the special strategic Trust Territory of the

The Next Wave Finding Test-Verifying the Dilep
Greatly simplified, wave finding is the art and science of traditional Marshallese navigating, which includes the skill of sensing subtle wave patterns. Due to the complexity of trying to describe what wave finding entails, the focus here will be on only one of its aspects. As waves impact atolls or islands, they cause reflections, refractions, and diffractions (Ascher, 1995).

From Canoe and Wave Finding to Climate Action
This cultural reawakening has received strong support from multiple organizations, from WAM, major donors, international organizations, and from Hilda Heine, first female president of the Marshall Islands (2016-2020). The Marshallese government realized that the price of fuel, which is expensive, and their reliance on shipping were contributing to greenhouse gas emissions, and it took action to reduce the islands' own emissions. This choice resulted in a complex initiative between the RMI and the University of the Pacific and its Micronesian Sustainable Transport Center. The German Ministry of Environment and an innovative German company are also major partners in this effort. The goal is to develop and use inter-island canoes based on traditional canoe-building practices but adapted in size and scale to be a functioning longdistance and inter-island transport system. These prototype vessels are being tested now.

Climate Change
My previous focus on existential cultural threats to small Indigenous groups has shifted to a social-ecological-cultural systems perspective. This perspective switches from micro-aggressions occurring at the intersection of school and community to fundamentally supporting and strengthening Indigenous resilience and adaptation. The social-cultural-ecological paradigm recenters the community and its organizations and decenters the school. This theoretical change alters the power dynamic between school and community. The discussion of the vignettes highlights a multiplicity of opportunities and challenges that remain.

The Importance of Indigenous Practitioner/Scholar Groups
Indigenous practitioner/scholar groups assisted by invited academics are a powerful building block in supporting, documenting, and revitalizing TEK, as described in four of the vignettes.
Three cases revolved around cultural knowledge on the edge of extinction, such as the last star navigator, wave finders, and traditional pandanus weavers, and there are many similar untold stories. Group synergy and TEK itself tap into human curiosity and multiple epistemologies and worldviews. These efforts and collaborations have a propensity to attract interested others and establish multiple linkages in a community or region, potentially connecting and strengthening cultural knowledge.

Waa'gey -Building on Cultural Traditions When Ecological Systems Change
Waa'gey, composed of outer islanders, continues to look for possible partnerships and technologies that expand upon the use of their traditional canoe, a possible means of low-cost and environmentally clean inter-island transport which is currently lacking. Presently, the one Chinese-built vessel that islanders rely on for transporting goods and critical supplies sits broken in Colonia, the capital of Yap State (personal communication with Cal Hachibmai). Solutions to the ecological, economic, and transport systems remain tenuous as a potential collaborative project concerning sea transport was not economically feasible (personal communication with Larry Raigetal).
Part of Waa'gey's program includes being simultaneously culturally traditional, adaptive, and creative under conditions of large-scale environmental changes. The ancient art of navigating in some ways begins with learning the procession of rising and setting stars. In Figure 4 below Ali Haleyalur demonstrated the set of rising/setting stars used in navigating. However, Larry Raigetal explained the star map also functions like a calendar, indicating times of stormy and calm weather. Climate changes has altered these patterns, presenting new challenges to the art and science of navigating. The Islanders need economic opportunity, which they are already partially linking to traditional culture and knowledge. They are at the epicenter of climate and social-cultural-ecological change.

Building on Local Indigenous Groups and Developing Multiple Systemic Linkages
The Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI) has developed multiple systemic linkages within its society and to regional and international organizations. The many connections of Waan Aelõñ in Majel (WAM) that initially stemmed from cultural pride and revitalization of wave finding, canoe building, and workforce education for youth have opened up new spaces for opportunity.
These opportunities are bolstered by the credible steps that the RMI government has made in establishing working relationships with the U.N., Japan, Taiwan, and Germany regarding funding and technological assistance. The RMI and WAM are working with the University of the South Pacific on designing and developing Low Carbon Sea Transport (canoe/boats), and at the present time are field testing the adapted canoes and boats inside lagoons. WAM and the Marshall Islands Shipping Corporation have a role in building the boats, offering employment opportunities and training youth, with promising possibilities of work following graduation. The RMI is working with Indigenous Knowledge holders, scientists, land planners, and many others using satellite imagery to study rising waters and the dynamics of the atolls as islanders face the consequences of a 2.0 degree centigrade rise in temperature. This collaboration includes a plan to elevate some of the atolls above predicted sea level estimates. The goal of this collaboration means modifying a habitat purposely for ecological, environmental, economic, and subsistence sustainability, guarding against salinization of the freshwater supply and introducing alternative solar-powered energy sources. Such collaborations also mean the survival of the traditional canoe.

Ethnomathematics--where is it?
Ethnomathematics is embedded throughout this article. By supporting community organizations such as Waa'gey and WAM, Indigenous epistemologies may strengthen, sustain, and generate new pathways of knowledge and living. Traditional Ecological Knowledge applied to fire suppression, forest stewardship and climate change can be part of a solution to the challenge of sustaining or promoting economic well-being (Huaman, 2016(Huaman, & 2020. This broad array of possibilities opens creative paths for the application of ethnomathematics developing regenerative social, cultural, economic, and educational systems that attempt to redefine how to live harmoniously with the natural environment in the modern era.

IN CONCLUSION
Indigenous People in the places described contribute a tiny, tiny fraction of worldwide climate emissions. The Marshall Islands government and people have resolved to further lower their carbon emissions so that their local actions reflect and reinforce the changes they are asking of the rest of the world. It seems only just that ethnomathematicians and ethnographers and other social scientists respond to Laura Nader's (1974) suggestion to "study up." Facing the damaging effects of climate change leads to questions such as these: What can influence decision makers to recognize the costs that are irresponsibly passed on to others? How can stockholders, banks, and governmental policymakers act responsibly toward our planet? To paraphrase Nader, her challenge to all of us is, work in the halls of power, business, and government, to study their culture and influence their decision making for the benefit of the commons. Without these types of efforts, small Indigenous communities and cultures will be hard-pressed to stop the macro forces encroaching on their existence. This should be a warning and call to action for all of us.

ENDNOTES
[1] See Lipka, J. with Mohatt, G., & the Ciulistet Group. (1998). Transforming the Culture of Schools: Yup'ik Eskimo Examples. Because much of this topic has been addressed, this paper raises processes and topics not well covered or not addressed in previous work.