Connection to Country: Teaching science from an Indigenous perspective

Australia’s First Peoples observed the stars and the moon, the seasons and the Earth, the animals and plants. For tens of thousands of years, they lived in harmony with their country, and told stories about how it came to be.

These stories helped them navigate and find food, to manage their resources, and included history, too.

The Gunditjmara people of coastal western Victoria, for instance, tell stories about a volcano that erupted 37,000 years ago in an area geologists refer to as the Newer Volcanics Province.

Budj Bim, the name of the volcano, is a Gunditjmara ancestral being. It’s also a UNESCO World Heritage site that includes weirs, channels, dams and ponds that the Gunditjmara built from volcanic lava flows to trap and harvest kooyang, the short-finned eel.

This aquaculture system was used by the Gunditjmara for at least 6600 years – making it one of the oldest man-made structures to be found anywhere, and one of the most sustainable. The preserved eels were once traded around the continent.

Geologist Andrew Giles says stone tools have been found on the site that pre-date the eruption of Budj Bim. As a teaching associate for Monash University’s (and possibly Australia’s) first Indigenous science course, he teaches second-year science students about “the time periods that people have actually been in Australia”.

Environmental and ecological managers

Indigenous Australians belong to the longest continuous culture on Earth. They may not be recognised as scientists in the Western sense, but they were keen environmental observers and superb ecological managers, devising adaptations that supported their people for millennia.

The Gundtijmara, for instance, say they have always lived on their country – archaeological evidence points to at least 40,000 years of habitation.

In his science classes, “I look at the evidence for that”, says Giles, a Ngarrindjeri man. “How we found that evidence, and how Aboriginal people have used natural resources technology to essentially shape their world.”

The first Indigenous science unit, which began in second semester 2020, was oversubscribed, says chemist and unit coordinator Angela Ziebell.

“We want to instil in our students an understanding of how traditions (and the science that was part of them) can easily be lost when a culture or opinion is allowed to dominate at the cost of others,” she says.

Krystal De Napoli, who’s majoring in astrophysics, teaches the astronomy and chemistry section of the course. Australia’s Indigenous people were the first to observe the stars and the behaviour of the visible planets, she says.

Yet, much of their astronomical knowledge, which was encoded in Dreaming stories, was undervalued by colonisers who didn’t understand what the stories meant.

It was long assumed, for instance, that any red star in a Dreaming story must refer to the planet Mars, whereas the reality is more interesting.

Indigenous stories about the Seven Sisters (the Pleiades constellation) make reference to a fire stick (the red star Betelgeuse) in the fist of the hunter Nyeeruna (Orion), and fire magic (the red star Aldebaran) in the foot of Kambughuda, the oldest sister. Betelgeuse and Aldebaran are variable stars, brightening and fading over long intervals, a phenomenon noted in the story.

Developing a deeper appreciation of culture

The Indigenous science course “is not only correcting that historical narrative, but it’s a way for people to develop a deeper appreciation for Indigenous culture, and the really complex knowledge that has been developed over tens of thousands of years on this land”, De Napoli says.

The course allows her to share her twin passions – astrophysics and Indigenous science education.

A Kamilaroi woman who grew up in Wangaratta, she says she grew up knowing nothing about Indigenous science. It was only at university that “it was made apparent to me that there’s a massive cross-section between Indigenous knowledges, and science in general”.

De Napoli sees teaching Indigenous science “as my contribution to reconciliation”.

“I feel there were a lot of negative associations with being Indigenous, a lot of harmful stereotypes that people impose on you,” she says.

“Whereas the true history, like their understanding of science, and the development of certain technologies, and the sustainable way of using the land, are, I think, absolutely incredible. It would be so amazing if that was the stuff that people were spouting whenever we discuss Indigenous culture.”

“We want to instil in our students an understanding of how traditions (and the science that was part of them) can easily be lost when a culture or opinion is allowed to dominate at the cost of others.” 

Giles, who’s researching his PhD in geology, agrees. As a child, he also did not learn about the breadth of Indigenous knowledge, or its deep implications.

“One of my biggest problems with modern Western science is the idea that everything has to be compartmentalised into this little box,” he says. “But Indigenous knowledges, they’re comprehensive. They don’t compartmentalise into geography, geology, biology, chemistry ... It’s all interconnected.”

(This is reflected in the Indigenous science course that covers the four Monash science schools – chemistry, biology, earth sciences, physics and astronomy – but does not name the separate disciplines.)

Indigenous knowledge aims to “put you in a framework that is connected with the society and Country you come from, and it teaches you how to respect it and care for it”, Giles says.

This makes more sense to him than the knowledge-for-its-own sake Western model.

An Indigenous voice in every class

Dr Ziebell hatched the idea for an Indigenous science course after teaching third-year chemistry students about how Indigenous healers use the sandpaper fig to fight fungal infections (her students chemically analyse the fig, comparing a plant grown in the Monash Indigenous garden to a Queensland variety).

Her aim was to have Indigenous voices in every class, and for these voices to evolve as the course evolves.

Along with De Napoli and Giles, teachers and guest speakers include Yorta Yorta man Uncle Colin Walker, and Josef Tye from the William Cooper Institute.

Tye begins the course with a two-week discussion of “cultural competency” – introducing students to Indigenous perspectives and experiences, including how Indigenous languages and knowledge were lost.

“This is central to making sure everybody starts knowing how to talk about the material,” Dr Ziebell explains. “These struggles are real, and impact people in very tangible ways still.”

Read more: Indigenous practice of cultural burning and the bushfires prevention conversation

COVID-19 restrictions have meant that the classes are online, and that the planned overnight stay to Budj Bim cannot go ahead. Despite this, the students are “incredibly engaged”, Dr Ziebell says. “There was a wait-list for the class. We're starting to uncover some really interesting discussions.”

Her hope is that one day, all Australian children will learn about Indigenous science in primary school.

Giles and De Napoli agree.

“The history of Australia is everybody’s responsibility, and Aboriginal culture is a part of that,” Giles says.

“It's really cool that we’re all on this land where these world-firsts have occurred,” says De Napoli.