I work at the intersection of traditional knowledge systems and biomedical science. I work for the Chacruna Institute, a non-profit bridging the worlds of clinical research and traditional plant medicines, which was founded by both an anthropologist and a clinical psychologist.

I work closely with over 30 indigenous groups in seven countries, supporting indigenous knowledge by nurturing ecological well-being. My partners are fighting for their land, water, food, medicine and cultural sovereignty, because without these basic material necessities, we can't have traditional knowledge systems.

As a practising scientist, I'm familiar with the tension between science and traditional knowledge. It's about not only integrating these systems but also understanding that indigenous science deserves to be taken seriously. What often sets indigenous knowledge apart is an emphasis on relationality and reciprocity, an understanding that our existence relies on the gifts of other beings.

Science, as conventionally practised, is an important tool for sustainability. Its explanatory power comes from an emphasis on reductionism and a strict separation of the scientist as observer from the observed—in this case, nature or the environment.

However, we also know that the observer only exists in, by and through a relationship with communities that produce our food and infrastructure and steward medicinal and ecological knowledge and the land and water that are the sources of all that we depend on. That relationship comes with certain obligations and responsibilities to be honoured.

Science reaps the benefits of ethno-pharmacological discoveries generated by indigenous people. Ecologists recognize the global correlation between traditional societies and biodiversity, since indigenous territories have more biodiversity than protected areas. We also know that encounters between Europeans and indigenous political philosophers contributed to the Enlightenment and the movement towards democracy that was spurred by thinkers like Rousseau and Voltaire.

My fellow panellist has already established the direct continuity between this promising new field of psychedelic-assisted therapy and indigenous traditional knowledge. He mentioned Abram Hoffer and Humphry Osmond, who only coined the term “psychedelic” after their experience sitting in a Native American Church teepee ceremony.

Whether working with plant-based compounds or synthetics, there's no escaping this relationship. This is all the more important to recognize in light of the profound gap between the promises of psychedelic medicine as defined by clinicians, researchers and investors and then the material needs of indigenous communities. That these empirically effective medicinal compounds—or land management strategies, or social governance—result from traditional knowledge systems that allow for gratitude towards the land and the recognition of personhood in the environment runs counter to the dominant assumptions of western science.

Western science explicitly separates values from outcomes and works from the basic assumption that there is no agency in nature. This works for certain questions, but it also creates an intellectual monoculture. For the socio-economic and environmental questions we face, we need a reorientation to focus on relationships. We need interdiscipline and pluralism, rather than monoculture. We need other ways of knowing.

This is what it means to use science and traditional knowledge together: to re-engage with relationality, subjectivity and agency to allow us to properly address ecological crises holistically and to question the unexamined assumptions of our institutions, recognizing where colonial mechanisms are still at play and how to guard against them.

Canada has already taken some strides in this through its Truth and Reconciliation Commission findings to confront these power dynamics. Recognizing that relationship with plant medicines and psychedelics is another move in this direction towards reconciliation.

Many of my indigenous partners are not interested in talking about traditional knowledge or psychedelic plants. They're interested in having their human rights and territories respected, even through the extension of human rights to forests, springs and rivers, such as with the rights of nature established by Ecuador's Constitutional Court.

Our program, the indigenous reciprocity initiative, is based on the recognition that a ground-up structure emphasizing local agency is the most meaningful way to support indigenous and local community autonomy and the most impactful way to support biodiversity. This is all best achieved by partnering with existing indigenous and local organizations on their terms, moving slowly and building trust.

If we can recognize and reorient ourselves toward the work of others, rather than taking over the spaces or processes of indigenous and local peoples, then we stand a better chance of achieving ecological well-being, a safe and healthy environment for current and future generations of humans and non-humans alike, and a diverse biosphere. Then, perhaps, we can come to see the relational world of diverse beings we inhabit. As we attempt to grapple with this dawning realization, we can move away from cynicism and helplessness and embody reciprocity in all that we do.