What Indigenous communities teach us about climate change

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What Indigenous communities teach us about climate change

From the Arctic to Tierra del Fuego, historian Bernardo Groschopp reflects on how climate change, shifting wildlife and political borders are reshaping Indigenous communities – and why their environmental knowledge matters.

“They really have a perfect relationship with the environment,” says Bernardo Groschopp as he sits down in front of me. Around us, the Drake Passage is growing increasingly rough – the so-called “Drake Shake”. The waves reach a height of almost seven metres, and we can barely stay seated without falling.

I had the pleasure of meeting Groschopp, the historian aboard HX Expeditions’ MS Fridtjof Nansen, during my latest press trip to Antarctica with the company. On our way back to Ushuaia, Argentina, he delivered a lecture on indigenous populations and kindly agreed to chat with me right afterwards.

“I’ve had interactions with populations from both the Arctic and Tierra del Fuego,” says Groschopp. His remark highlights one of the key differences between the Earth’s two polar regions: the Arctic is home to indigenous peoples, while Antarctica – a frozen continent isolated from the rest of the world – has none. To encounter the southernmost indigenous communities, one must travel to the far south of South America, in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego.

A long-lasting relationship with the environment

“But regardless of their origin, they really do care about the environment in the same way,” Groschopp adds. As he goes on to explain why, he says something I will hardly ever forget.

“Some time ago, a colleague of mine went fishing with the Sámi, an indigenous community of the Arctic Scandinavia,” he recalls. “At one point they stopped fishing and when my colleague asked why, they replied – almost confused – that they had already caught what they needed, so there was no need to fish anymore.”

Listening to him, I couldn’t help thinking about how differently we tend to treat the environment. Where those fishermen stopped once they had what they needed, we often keep going – catching more fish, extracting more resources, pushing natural systems far beyond what they can sustain. And in doing so, in addition, we frequently end up with more than we actually need, much of which eventually ends up as waste.

“On the contrary, these indigenous populations use everything they can from what they catch or gather,” Groschopp notes. “Meat, skin, bones – everything is utilized and nothing is wasted.”

As he explains this, I notice that one of the slides from his presentation is still on the screen, showing a group of Arctic indigenous people hunting a seal. That’s when a new question comes to my mind: how is climate change–driven migration of animals affecting these communities?

The impact of a changing climate

“In the past – Groschopp says – the Inuit, an indigenous community of North America, travelled all the way to Greenland following the marine animals they depended on as a warmer climatic period affected their migration patterns.” Indeed, many animal species respond to warming climates by migrating toward higher latitudes in search of suitable environmental conditions.

“Now, however, most Inuit are no longer nomadic,” Groschopp explains. “This means that when animals migrate they have to adapt and shift to hunting different species.”

But that is not always possible. Some animals require different boats, weapons, or travel distances, which can make the hunt too costly or dangerous; in some regions – moreover – there may simply not be many substitute species that provide similar amounts of food or materials.

But climate change poses other challenges for these communities as well. “Just think about thawing permafrost in the Arctic,” Groschopp adds. “Many indigenous populations live on land that was once permanently frozen, but as permafrost thaws the ground can collapse, damaging houses, roads, and water systems.”

Just as I thought he was done and I was about to ask another question, Groschopp continued, listing a whole range of other problems that thawing permafrost creates for Arctic communities.

“Combined with reduced sea ice – he explains – permafrost thaw can make Arctic coasts more vulnerable to erosion from waves and storms, forcing communities to relocate. Or again, it can alter the course of streams and rivers, making traditional hunting routes unreliable.”

But that’s not all. Thawing ground also alters vegetation and wetlands, affecting animal behaviour and movement patterns. “And that brings us back to the issue of species migration,” Groschopp notes.

“I think it’s striking how many problems thawing permafrost can create for these communities,” he then adds. “And we should not forget that this process also releases enormous amounts of greenhouse gases such as methane and carbon dioxide, creating a feedback loop that further alters Arctic environments.”

Those invisible margins

Climate change is not the only force reshaping the lives of indigenous communities. Across both the Arctic and the southern tip of South America, political borders – drawn decades or even centuries ago – continue to affect how these people can move across lands their ancestors once travelled freely.

“Geopolitics has a major impact on the lives of these communities,” Groschopp explains. “Of course, what is happening today affects them deeply, but decisions made in the past – such as the drawing of borders – also continue to shape their lives.”

“Years ago – Groschopp continues – these people could move from one place to another without restriction, whereas today they need a visa to cross national borders.”

A shared knowledge

Borders may divide the Arctic and the southern tip of South America into nations, but the environmental changes unfolding across these regions ignore such boundaries. And in many cases, the first people to notice these changes are the communities that have lived in these landscapes for generations.

Today, scientists are increasingly working with them to better understand these transformations. Hunters, fishers and local residents often notice shifts in sea ice, wildlife movements or seasonal patterns long before they appear in scientific datasets. By combining this knowledge with modern scientific tools such as satellite data and climate models, researchers are gaining a more complete picture of how rapidly these environments are evolving.

But that’s not all. “These communities not only collaborate with scientists and researchers, but they also share their knowledge with explorers,” Groschopp points out. “At the beginning of the twentieth century, for example, Nansen and Amundsen spent time living with Inuit communities, learning from them how to survive and travel in polar regions.”

Fridtjof Nansen and Roald Amundsen are among the most famous polar explorers in history. Both Norwegian, they played a central role in the exploration of the Arctic and Antarctica at the turn of the twentieth century. Nansen led groundbreaking expeditions across Greenland and the Arctic Ocean, while Amundsen became the first person to reach the South Pole in 1911.

“But indigenous communities had been sharing their knowledge with explorers long before that,” Groschopp says.

One well-known example comes from the ill-fated Franklin Expedition. In 1845, British explorer Sir John Franklin set out with two ships, HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, in search of the Northwest Passage through the Canadian Arctic. The expedition disappeared with all 129 men on board, and for more than 160 years, the wrecks remained missing.

“However, the Inuit knew where the accident had happened,” Groschopp notes. “For more than a century, we simply didn’t listen to them.”

Soon after the expedition vanished, in fact, Inuit living in the region began sharing what they had seen with British search parties. They spoke of encounters with exhausted European sailors travelling south across the ice, and of ships trapped and later abandoned in the frozen waters. They also reported finding objects that clearly belonged to the expedition, as well as camps and bodies left behind along the route. “It’s only thanks to them that we finally found the wrecks,” Groschopp adds.

“I think it’s very ironic,” he continues. “These people know so much about regions that we know so little about, and they care deeply about them. Yet we often fail to listen to them, and in doing so we also endanger them.”

This failure is not new. Many of these communities were displaced or persecuted by early Europeans in their own homelands, in some cases to the point of near extinction. As a result, entire systems of knowledge and cultural traditions have been irretrievably lost – sometimes simply because there were no surviving generations to pass them on, and often because those who encountered them did not consider their preservation important.

“If anything, we should be learning from them far more and showing them the respect they deserve,” Groschopp adds.

As he spoke, his voice almost broke with emotion, his Argentine accent suddenly more pronounced. A reminder that he comes from the same lands where many of the communities he speaks about still live – and that he understands them perhaps more deeply than many of us ever will.

By Frederico Citterich

Published on the Vatican News website