6 Learning from Smong: Incorporating Local and Indigenous Knowledge in Disaster Management

Author

Christopher Sheach, MA, CEM^®, Paul Smith’s College, Paul Smiths, NY

Keywords

local knowledge, Indigenous knowledge, whole of community, disaster management, metīs, techne

 

Abstract

This chapter explores the growing importance of local and indigenous knowledge (LIK) in disaster management theory and practice. It discusses the historical shift in scholarly understanding of disasters and emphasizes the role of LIK in disaster risk reduction and climate change adaptation. Drawing from case studies and examples in the literature, the study examines the dichotomy between external and local knowledge, drawing on ancient Greek concepts of metīs and techne to provide a framework for understanding this barrier. Finally, the chapter calls for the promotion of the inclusion of local and indigenous knowledge in disaster risk management processes and underscores the need for continued research in this area.

Introduction

In the aftermath of the deadliest catastrophe of the 21^st century (and one of the worst in recorded history), McAdoo et al. (2006) described how the people of Simeulue Island responded to warning signs in their environment and rapidly evacuated their homes. These scholars indicated that only seven people died on Simeulue from the December 26, 2004 tsunami, in contrast to the thousands in villages on the neighboring island of Sumatra. The Simeulue response was precipitated by an oral tradition, passing down early warning information for almost a century.

The Simeulue story is not the first example of local and/or Indigenous knowledge (LIK) in disaster literature, but it does represent a turning point – a signal event after the International Decade for Natural Disaster Reduction, when disaster management theory and international development theory intersected in the Hyogo Framework for Action 2005-2015 (HFA) less than one month later (Tozier de la Poterie and Baudoin 2015, 130).

In the twenty years since, literature pertaining to LIK has seen a steady increase (Hadlos, Opdyke, and Hadigheh 2022), as the three global commitments of 2015 (the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction, the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development and the Paris Climate Agreement,) all highlighted the role of communities and local knowledge. As highlighted through a review of the literature, the incorporation of LIK in disaster management practice, especially disaster risk reduction (DRR) and climate change adaptation (CCA), is on the rise and proving to be effective (Hiwasaki et al. 2014).

Nevertheless, there is still a persistent reliance on external knowledge in humanitarian action based on deep-rooted and inaccurate perceptions of wisdom and intelligence. As Hadlos, Opdyke and Hadigheh (2022, 3) write, “a science-based stance still dominates the disaster discourse.” With this in mind, an examination of the ancient Greek concepts of metīs and techne presents a framework for understanding this dichotomy and suggests a means to overcome this barrier. Metīs invokes the wisdom of adapting to a situation or “going with your gut” to survive. Scott (1998) frames metīs as the opposite of techne, which ancient Greeks defined as knowledge formed through science – deductive reasoning and theoretical grounding.

The following chapter examines the role of LIK through an examination of published case studies and examples described in the academic literature. Consideration of types of knowledge will use Scott’s definitions of techne and metīs, and a special interest will be given to examples of LIK for preparedness and recovery, which seem to be less prevalent. While examples of LIK application in the US seem to be under-represented, relevant considerations for use in the American context will be discussed. There is sufficient evidence in the literature to promote the inclusion of local and indigenous knowledge in disaster risk management processes.

Literature Review

The literature on disasters has seen a shift from disaster management theory to sustainability and local/indigenous knowledge. This latter topic has close relation to Greek philosophy and has clear application for international risk reduction policy. Each of these topics will be discussed in the literature review that follows.

Disaster Management Theory

The study of disasters is almost completely contained in the last century, since Samuel Prince’s dissertation in 1920 (Scanlon 1997). Prince was by no means the earliest reference to disasters in scholarly literature. For instance, Dynes (1997) describes the role the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 played in the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau and others during the Enlightenment. These writings and continued scientific exploration of geology and other natural sciences were instrumental in the first major shift of scholarly understanding of disasters in Western/European thought, from a view of disasters as acts of god to disasters as acts of nature (Kendrick 1957, as cited in Burnham 1988; Quarantelli 1987).

Significant theoretical research did not develop, however, until the 1950s. Rooted in the “social context of the Cold War” (Perry 2018, 6), the classical disaster research approach centered on specific hazard events or phenomena such as a military strike or a natural hazard event and the human behavior during and around those events. Scholars such as Henry Quarantelli, William Anderson, and Charles Fritz sought to both identify patterns of human behavior during and after disasters and understand the causes of these patterns (Quarantelli and Dynes 1977) with a focus on maintaining social order (Tierney, Lindell, and Perry 2001). Disasters were understood to be both threats and actual events during which society “incurs such losses … that the social structure is disrupted and …essential functions of the society are disrupted” (C. Fritz 1961, 655). This view saw disasters as external to society and beyond human control (Perry 2018).

These classical researchers were sociologists in the structural functionalist school (Tierney, Lindell, and Perry 2001), and were focused on social systems, rather than the origins of disasters. Predicting human behaviors under stress was instrumental to the shaping of civil defense, the precursor of emergency management in the US, Canada, UK, Australia and many other countries. Through the next several decades, Fritz’s definition of disasters would heavily influence other researchers (Stallings and Quarantelli 1985; Kreps 1989) as well as the policies of emergency management, where command and control became the dominant approach to organize response to outside agents for the remainder of the 20th century (Moynihan 2009).

Meanwhile, Gilbert White and other geographers, drawing from the concept of geography as a form of human ecology, proposed a different perspective for the study of disasters (Burton, Kates, and White 1968). They emphasized the distinction between a natural hazard, which is a regular part of our environment, and a disaster, which only happens when the hazard intersects with human systems (Burton, Kates, and White 1978). During this era, White collaborated with sociologist Eugene Haas (1975) to complete the first national assessment of natural hazards research, which was representative of the parallel findings in the two fields. The “how” of disasters was understood: social systems were disrupted by interaction with a hazard but continued to remain organized. What was not understood was the why. O’Keefe, Westgate and Wisner (1976) argued that the probability of hazards was likely constant, meaning an increase in human vulnerability was the corollary of increased disasters.

Influences of Sustainable Development

Current theories of disasters and development are both inextricably tied to the socio-political context of modernism from which they arise. As the classical period of disaster theory is firmly rooted in the “social context of the Cold War” (Perry 2018, 6), neoliberal development theory post-WWII was likewise shaped by the notion that the success of Bretton Woods in European revitalization could be extended to accelerate economic growth in Africa and Latin America (Black 1999; Moyo 2009; Collins 2009). Both were based on the premise that the Western/American way of life (the free market economy) was the pinnacle of successful democracy.

The promotion of bottom-up, community-based approaches for risk management (Anderson 1995; Lewis 1999; Twigg 2001) had been proposed by non-Western writers for decades (Freire 2005; Sen 1981; de Soto 1989; Cardoso and Faletto 1979), but was not widely accepted by Western powers and international development stakeholders until the 1990s. After decades of considering community-based approaches to be anti-capitalist, US and European development agencies reversed course and widely promoted them. One example, the Sustainable Livelihoods Model promoted by the United Kingdom Department for International Development (DFID 2000), identifies five asset groups (capacities) that can influence community resilience: human, social, natural, physical, and financial. The sustainable livelihoods approach indirectly targets disaster vulnerability (Twigg 2001) by focusing on existing capacities (including LIK) rather than on needs or deficiencies.

Sustainable development theory and disaster theory also started to converge in the 1990s. In a neo-classical return to an “anthropocentric” lens (Burton, Kates, and White 1968, 5), researchers sought to understand underlying causes for disasters, leading to a greater understanding of social vulnerability (Blaikie et al. 1994; Mileti 1999) and the social construction of disaster (Comfort et al. 1999). The Pressure and Release (PAR) model of Blaikie et al. (1994) is a good example of this convergence, recognizing that root causes of disaster include political and economic systems, access to power, structure and resources. The modification of the PAR to include capacity as a mitigating measure to vulnerability (Wisner et al. 2004) directly links capacity-building (a community-level development process) to vulnerability reduction.

Oliver-Smith (1999) argues that neoliberal development-driven influences of inappropriate production, settlement patterns and land use have increased vulnerability, since traditional knowledge no longer applies. Building on the sustainable livelihoods model, the community-based disaster risk reduction (CBDRR) approach (IFRC 2008; Venton and Hansford 2006) uses participatory approaches to incorporate full-cycle disaster management into existing community systems and structures. Building capacity requires mapping existing capacity, which includes local knowledge and indigenous knowledge and techniques for adaptation, coping mechanisms, and mitigating risk.

 

Local and Indigenous Knowledge

The terms ‘local knowledge’ and ‘indigenous knowledge’ can be used interchangeably but highlight two different forms of knowledge acquisition. The former is place-based and specific knowledge of the environment, whereas the latter invokes “long-term cultural ties or traditional ownership” (Hadlos, Opdyke, and Hadigheh 2022, 1). By considering the two together, LIK recognizes the place-based and specific aspects of the knowledge, whether cultural or not, and with consideration for both traditional ownership and displacement.

Indigenous knowledge includes “the cultural traditions, values, beliefs, and worldviews of local peoples as distinguished from Western scientific knowledge” (Dei 1993, 18:105) and is the result of a people’s interaction with nature and the social world. LIK “cannot be separated from larger moral or normative ends” (Banuri and Apfell-Marglin, 1993, cited in Agrawal, 1995, 19), and is substantively different than knowledge from outside the local context, using different methods and based in a different epistemology, and being deeply rooted in a specific context. Both local and indigenous knowledge may have a positive impact on disaster management theory and policy. Therefore, it is imperative to understand this approach further.

Roots in Greek Philosophy

The linkage of local and indigenous knowledge to culture, tradition and place evokes the ancient Greek concept of metīs, or “cunning intelligence” (Detienne and Vernant 1974), as directly contrasted with techne, or deductive reasoning for science. For Plato and Aristotle, metīs was seen as “less than” deductive reasoning (Scott 1998; Letiche and Statler 2005), since it is not part of ordered, logical thought, but to be found in the skills of a doctor (of their time) or a soldier, professions which required a capacity for discernment. The idea that techne is superior to metīs has been reinforced throughout the history of Western civilization, such that even those professions known to ancient Greeks for their metīs knowledge (medicine and military) are now known for their advances in scientific exploration and rational decision-making processes.

For this reason, disaster and development planners and managers continue to see LIK as inferior to scientific knowledge (Agrawal 1995). LIK is oppressed “as a result of the marginalization, exploitation, powerlessness, cultural imperialism, violence and denial of existing knowledge placed upon its bearers” (Mercer et al. 2010). Notable sustainable development practitioner Robert Chambers once said that “even those who are its bearers may believe it to be inferior” (1980, 2 as cited in Agrawal, 1995, 6), due to external pressures and the wealth or power associated with scientific knowledge.

 

International Risk Management Policy

Despite community-based approaches being championed both in the US and internationally (Bloomer 2004; Abarquez and Murshed 2004; Davis and Murshed 2006; Jegillos, Rahman, and Iyenger 2004; Allen 2006; Buckland and Rahman 1999; Bolin and Stanford 1998; Burby 1998; Pearce 2003; 2005), the prevailing trend for much of the last twenty years has continued to be top-down and external, caught in the mindset of the 1980s that “technoscientific knowledge” (de Rivera 2022) will be effective in reducing disaster risk.

Coming out of the decade for International Risk Reduction, the Yokohama Strategy used language like partnership, and considers the local context as “a key component of planning and implementing DRR initiatives” (Tozier de la Poterie and Baudoin 2015, 132). The Yokohama Strategy describes the desire to regenerate, grow and propagate (United Nations 1994, 8) these other forms of knowledge, as if an injection of science would fertilize them. While scientific knowledge is still seen as distinct, it provides a complementary or supporting role.

This perspective is in line with the literature of the mid-1990s, from the work of Blakie et al. (1994) on systemic causes of vulnerability to the analysis by Agrawal (1995) of the artificial divide between science and LIK. Kalland (2000) believed this change in perspective to be part of a culture of skepticism towards Western modernism and the failures of the Bretton Woods grand economic liberalization approach to development.

Following Yokohama, humanitarian efforts did attempt to consider local context in response and recovery. The Sphere Handbook, developed by leading humanitarian agencies, was piloted in 1998 and launched in 2000 (Sphere Project 2000). It became a veritable bible for humanitarian aid agencies over the next several decades. While recommending minimum standards of care across several intervention areas (shelter, water, etc.), the guidelines repeatedly highlight the importance of participation at all phases by the people affected by disaster, requiring “inclusion of local expertise and knowledge” (Sphere Project 2000). Unfortunately, this was a “highly truncated notion of participation” (Barnett 2011, 214) that limited people to selection from a list of available items.

This top-down approach is a product of the implementation challenges of the 1990s. Not only was neo-liberalism not successful in providing world peace and economic stability, but there were also increasing conflicts and “failed states” (Barnett 2011) were on the rise. People displaced by war and conflict had very little capacity, as they were removed from their local context and environment and that context was often permanently altered by war.

Furthermore, the haphazard ad hoc approach to disaster response in the 1980s, coupled with the rapid growth of agencies involved, revealed significant disparity in the provision of aid, something which the Sphere Project attempted to ameliorate. The systematic approach to response used in conflict zones like Somalia, Rwanda/Democratic Republic of Congo and Bosnia-Herzegovina became a well-oiled machine which landed full-scale in the aftermath of the Indian Ocean tsunami in late 2004. It was here that the Sphere Handbook became widely adopted for natural hazard management – the minimum standards started to be recognized as simply standards, and implementation took on global uniformity, perhaps with slight embellishments to reflect local preferences. In the recovery process, homes in Indonesia, Sri Lanka or India were reconstructed to almost identical standards – 6m² of living space per person, compliant with the American Disabilities Act and engineered with standardized anti-seismic techniques. These practices were continued for largely the next decade, regardless of country, hazard or implementing agency in what became a drive for modernization, standardization and professionalism.

In 2005, the Hyogo Framework for Action (HFA) was adopted at the next World Conference on Disaster Reduction, with a plan to “substantially reduce” (United Nations 2005, 12) disaster losses over the next decade. The language of the Hyogo Framework for Action frames LIK as a conduit for contextualizing scientific approaches to disaster risk (Tozier de la Poterie and Baudoin 2015), rather than recognizing local solutions to local challenges.

The current prevailing guidance for international disaster risk management is the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction 2015-2030 (United Nations 2015a) which identifies indigenous peoples as stakeholders (para 7) in a list of vulnerable populations and highlights the importance of “traditional, indigenous and local knowledge and practices, as appropriate, to complement scientific knowledge” (para 24 (i)). Similarly, the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development (2015b), which includes the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), only mentions traditional knowledge in reference to protecting unmodified seeds but emphasizes the sharing and acquisition of scientific knowledge and technological innovation across several of the goals.

As can be seen, since at least the 1990s there has been a broad recognition in the academic literature and to a lesser extent in global policies, that the recognition and implementation of local and indigenous knowledge is a valuable component of disaster risk management, even while the practice was becoming more science-driven and technological. After the 2006 publication of the Simeulue survival story, there has been increased interest in socio-cultural knowledge for disaster preparednesss and response, but this continues to be viewed as metīs knowledge, and secondary to techne knowledge derived from science. Preliminary review of the literature from sustainable development suggests that some LIK is more than socio-cultural knowledge, requiring a deeper examination of the evidence.

 

Methodology

Based on the literature review, current policy frameworks appear to fall short on two fronts, limiting the widespread adoption of local and indigenous knowledge for disaster management. First, the perception of LIK as metīs knowledge, and therefore less useful than scientific knowledge, is unhelpful and inaccurate. Metīs can be applied to “transient, shifting, disconcerting and ambiguous” contexts (Detienne and Vernant 1974, 3), and is comprised of “an awareness of change, and … the capacity to respond adaptively to it” (Letich and Statler 2005, 3). Adaptive capacity in a changing environment is one of the key elements of resilience (Manyena, 2006) and knowledge built on this capacity would be useful in the disaster risk management process. Second, the value of incorporating LIK has not been explicitly shown to achieve goals (whether the SDGs, the Sendai priorities or the National Preparedness Goal), there is no incentive to invest time, political will and resources toward inclusion.

While the story of local tsunami awareness on Simeulue Island is well-known and documented, even a cursory literature review suggests that there are several more examples of local knowledge for disaster preparedness and response. A critical examination of the available literature can provide insight on the relevance, value and potential limitations of local and indigenous knowledge for disaster risk management.

 

Data Collection

This study used a three-step process of literature review to identify relevant cases and examples of LIK. First, all articles which cited McAdoo et al. (2006) were identified and reviewed using Scopus (146 citations) and Google Scholar (230 citations). This first step laid the foundation for understanding the discourse on LIK in academic literature and identified relevant keywords for the second step in the search process.

In the next phase, systematic searches were conducted in Google Scholar and Scopus using Boolean operators with three combinations of keywords and a search period post-2005. The results of this search are highlighted in Table 1. From Scopus, 860 unique articles were identified and considered. From Google Scholar, the first 100 results (sorted by relevance) for each search term were considered. Articles were assessed for presence of primary data and integration of LIK into disaster risk management.

 

Table 1. Search Terms used in Literature Review and resulting articles

Boolean search terms	Google Scholar results	Scopus results
“local knowledge” AND disaster	35,300	411
“indigenous knowledge” AND disaster	22,100	279
“traditional knowledge” AND disaster	17,400	236

In the third phase of data collection, references were mined from the articles captured in the previous phases. In this way, an additional seminal or otherwise significant works were captured, which may have been missed in previous searches. Ultimately 85 articles were included in the analysis process.

Findings

The examples described below are only a selection of the hundreds of publications on the role of LIK in disaster management. As previously mentioned, there are many types of knowledge lumped into the category of LIK, so examples of the diversity are described below. Examples are also given which highlight how LIK is used in all phases of the disaster cycle and even transcends the constraint of the four-phase framework. Finally, several examples of LIK which did not serve the community well are presented. In addition to the case studies provided in detail, additional examples are referenced.

Types of Knowledge

Local and indigenous knowledge should not be seen as a monolith of unscientific knowledge (Agrawal 1995). Dekens (2007) introduces the following types of knowledge which are relevant to disaster management: technical, ecological, sociocultural and historical. Examples of each are introduced below.

Technological Knowledge
Examples of local and indigenous technological knowledge are quite prevalent in the literature. Dekens (2007, 22) suggests this is because it is “visible and concrete.” Even so, traditional technology (including tools and techniques) is frequently seen as risky for donors and implementers of mitigation or recovery projects (Trogrlić et al. 2022), if the process of “verifying” the technology has not been completed. One of the most obvious examples of technical LIK are building techniques which have survived major earthquakes. In Indonesia (Hadi, Setijanti, and Noerwasito 2021; Kurnio et al. 2021), many traditional houses on Nias Island withstood the 26 December 2004 earthquake with a moment magnitude of 9.1, the second most powerful earthquake ever recorded, and the subsequent 8.6 M_w earthquake on 28 March 2005. Nias was settled about 1500 years ago, and the people have named their home “the island that sways” (Anatona et al. 2024), a reference to the constant presence of earthquakes. The anti -seismic abilities of traditional Nias homes was documented by an Italian visitor in 1886 and some of those houses are still standing. Since many of these houses are over 100 years old, they have weathered several other significant earthquakes through the 19th century. Two of the defining architectural features are that the foundational pillars and diagonal pillars are placed on rock plinths (rather than anchored to the ground), and the use of rock ballast under some of the homes. Engineering studies have verified that these two techniques provide base isolation and damping properties respectively. These two techniques are currently the leading methods of anti-seismic construction design, “pioneered” by engineers throughout the twentieth century, but known on Nias Island for much longer.

Traditional summer houses in the Himalayan regions of India can reach six stories high (Rautela 2005) and have survived many earthquakes due to long-standing earthquake-resistant structural designs, including 3-meter-deep foundations and the use of alternating rows of logs with flat, dressed stones for wall construction. This alternating-rows technique has also been seen in building foundations from Turkey dating back to 1774 BCE (Carpani 2017).

Ecological Knowledge
As previously mentioned, ecological knowledge concerning the weather, indigenous flora and fauna, and agricultural techniques has been well documented in indigenous communities by anthropologists and development practitioners (Berkes, 1999). Since LIK is place-based, there is a strong connection to conservation measures in traditional livelihoods which are dependent on the local ecology. Reij (1991), in a report highlighting the state of indigenous soil and water conservation (SWC) techniques across Africa, describes the use of rock bund walls (as low as 30 centimeters in height) around fields to increase soil retention in flood or high-wind areas such as Cameroon, Burkina Faso and Sierra Leone and a variety of water retention techniques across the continent. Many of these practices are not well-studied and have been largely abandoned. However, there is evidence that these techniques are more effective in the local environment than large-scale measures such as the large dams developed in the post-colonial era.

An early study of agroforestry potential in Zimbabwe reported that “the rather negative picture of the actions of peasant farmers, as arising from accounts of deforestation and fuelwood crises, is not justified” (Campbell, Clarke, and Gumbo 1991, 108). This research also provides examples of farmers both preserving trees in their cash crop fields and planting additional trees for shade and fruit harvesting. Although recognized for lower-yields, traditional practices of Ghanian farmers, such as the use of ash for crop pest control, are also identified for their low environmental impact (File and Nhamo 2023). Furthermore, farmers adjusted their soil and water control measures as well as their choice of crops to the specifics of the field, such as planting red sorghum and millet in dry, rocky fields. In Sacred Ecology, his seminal work on traditional ecological knowledge, Berkes (2018) dedicated an entire chapter to examples of traditional knowledge systems. Of interest for this paper are the examples from Latin America and South America of tropical forest management, with long term (20 or more year) agriculture to forest cycles, where plots are rotated from food crops to cash crops and eventually return to forest, or where crops are selected for their soil regenerative properties.

Local practices for forecasting rains, floods or cold weather exist around the world and many are consistent with scientific data (Hadlos, Opdyke and Hadigheh, 2022). On the Andaman and Nicobar Islands of India, for instance, rainbows in the eastern sky are seen as predictors of drought, whereas rainbows from the west predict rain (Sethi et al., 2011). Since prevailing winds are from the southwest monsoon, rainbows in the west indicate a storm front coming toward the island, whereas those in the east predict precipitation heading away. On Rapu-rapu island in the Philippines, banana leaves falling when there is no wind is an indicator of a tropical storm/cyclone in two days. As Hiwasaki et al. (2014) explain, banana trees are susceptible to temperature drops, indicative of a cold front preceding a storm. Similarly, local farmes in the Andes of South America forecast drought based on the “apparent brightness of stars in the Pleiades”, several months before the actual event occurs (Dekens 2007, 47). Scientists have linked this poor visibility to El Nino-related curris cloud formations and the increased likelihood of subsequent drought.

Riedlinger (1999) describes some of the ways the Inuvialuit in the Arctic described their changing climate: earlier ice thaws and late freezes disrupted the annual caribou migrations, muskox calved earlier and polar bears came out of hibernation earlier. Also, there were fewer clear, cold days “when they could hear the sea ice crack” (431) and many more severe thunderstorms, with hail and lightning. Similarly, arrival and departure of migratory birds are indicators of changing seasons, which also indicate the arrival of severe weather in Timor-Leste and Indonesia (Hiwasaki et al. 2014). Watching animals is common across the world, for example elderly residents of West Bengal reported that ants moving their eggs to higher ground was an indication of coming flood (Dekens 2007).

Geological changes can also be indicators of natural hazard risk. Wang et al. (2019) document that increased water in a well was an “omen of earthquake” (5) and describe how measuring the change in fissures in the loess, a loosely compacted sediment layer (Sprafke and Obreht 2016) can predict imminent landslides.

Socio-cultural and Historical Knowledge
The story of Simeulue is a prime example of the role of sociocultural and historical LIK. After the 2004 earthquake, it was more than a week before the first reports came from the island. Until then, it was reported that the island was destroyed (OCHA, 2004) and predicted that casualties would be similar to those seen on the southern coast of Sumatra, directly across the strait, where in towns like Calang the mortality rate was close to 70% (Parry 2005). This was not the case.

Even though no tsunami had been experienced since 1907, only seven people of a population greater than 78,000 were killed by the tsunami surge, which reached 10 meters at the north of the island and destroyed up to 70% of buildings in the south end (McAdoo et al. 2006). This is in direct contrast to the impact of the 1907 tsunami, which anecdotally had similar 10 m. surge heights, but where up to 70% of the population died.^[1]

The change in outcome can be directly linked to a social adaptation based on knowledge from the 1907 event. The term smong (or emong) (Rahman, Sakurai, and Munadi 2018) is used in the local lexicon to describe the event, which has three universally known characteristics: a strong earthquake, subsequent receding ocean, followed by a large wave and flooding (Baumwoll 2008). Since 1907, survivors have recounted the story of this tragedy in a traditional storytelling known as nafi-nafi (Rahman, Sakurai, and Munadi 2018), which is similar to parables or fables in other cultural traditions. Thus, there is a story with descriptive details but concluding with a lesson or admonition for appropriate behavior (Suciani et al. 2018). In this case, islanders recognized the signs of tsunami in 2005 and evacuated vertically to the mountains, either because they remembered the story or trusted someone that did. Furthermore, some recounted how an earlier earthquake in 2002 was a test – the water didn’t recede, so they didn’t expect a tsunami, and didn’t evacuate (Rahman, Sakurai, and Munadi 2018).

While the smong story caught the attention of the world in 2006 – the Simeuluean people received an award from the UN for “contributing to a global culture of prevention” (Rahman, Sakurai, and Munadi 2018, 14) – similar LIK has been identified in the oral histories of earthquake and tsunami among Native American peoples in the Pacific Northwest region of the US (Becker et al. 2008) and in the Solomon Islands (H. M. Fritz and Kalligeris 2008; McAdoo, Moore, and Baumwoll 2009). Among the Hoh Tribe, in Washington state, a folktale recounts how a young boy learned of both the warning signs of tsunami (bears howling, especially in winter, followed by an earthquake) and the appropriate actions (vertical evacuation) (Becker et al. 2008). Studies immediately following the 2007 tsunamis in the Solomon Islands contrasted the response of indigenous communities with recent immigrant populations from the Gibert Islands, where there is no history of tsunamis (McAdoo, Moore, and Baumwoll 2009). Those with the indigenous knowledge of several smaller earthquakes and tsunamis evacuated vertically when they experienced earthquakes followed by the emptying of lagoons. The Gilbertese villages had significant losses, especially among children.

Phases of the Disaster Cycle

While mitigation measures such as anti-seismic house construction (Kurnio, Fekete, and Garschagen 2017; Kurnio et al. 2021) and response measures like the Simeulue evacuation may be the most dynamic and perhaps newsworthy, LIK for preparedness and recovery measures are also widespread.

Preparedness
Sethi et al. (2011) describe how Indian fish farmers forecast coming cyclones and prepare by fortifying their fishponds with bamboo fences to minimize erosion along the banks, and cut bamboo poles for transportation in the coming floods. The Mamanwa people of the Philippines also use traditional early warning systems to help them prepare. They observe wild pigs start to gather leaves and twigs near a large boulder when a storm is coming. The pigs then burrow in and make a shelter from the rain (Cuaton and Su 2020). Seeing this, the Mamanwa also prepare communal evacuation shelters known as kurob, days or weeks ahead of a coming typhoon or heavy rain. These temporary shelters are made of local materials in an elevated area beside a large rock or cave and are just large enough to shelter a family sitting upright. They are stocked with provisions, including root vegetables, pineapples and bananas. After Cyclone Haiyan devastated the region in 2013, the Mamanwa reported they survived in their kurob, while their villages were destroyed, requiring relocation after the storm. All over the world, local methods for preserving food reduce risks during lean periods, such as dry seasons or winters. Examples include smoking meat for the Siksika Nation in Alberta, Canada (Yumagulova et al. 2020) and wild fruit collection in Zimbabe (Mutasa 2015).

Recovery
Traditional or local disaster recovery measures can often be unnoticed in the significant response brought by external humanitarian aid. Trogrlić et al. (2022) describe how local knowledge goes undocumented, or documented and unapplied. The pressures of donor demands, efficiency, measurable outputs and time drive implementing agencies, whether NGOs, local or national governments, to the “tried and true” technoscientific methods. Nevertheless, evidence of effective LIK in recovery has been documented, one of which is the reliance on social capital and resource sharing in tightly-knit communities.

When the Tayal people of Taiwan were impacted by a typhoon, all access to the outside world was cut off. In addition to coordinate relief supplies from their own people in the cities which were carried by hand up the mountain, they used the traditional knowledge of each clan to support the whole tribe. As Lee and Chen (2021, 8) write:

Different clans and ethnical groups share their cultures, languages, living models, and life development in the tribe, yet they attack together and defend against external invasion. During the seasons of cultivation, harvest, and hunting, they help each other and communalize into a solid tribal society.

With road closures, food delivered to the Wulai clan in the foothills was carried by the hunters and elders along the river basin and hunting paths to bring food to the hill clans. They resorted to traditional hunting and gathering practices to ensure food security, but ensured their sustainable harvest practices were maintained. Meat and fish were salted and preserved to share with others in the community. The elders developed a division of labor among social groups and clans to make sure all needs of the tribe were met.

Later, they introduced eco-tourism as a way to ensure their LIK was passed to the younger generation who were taking jobs in the tourism industry (Lee and Chen 2021). This approach not only ensured survival through the disaster, but enabled adaptation to a new normal with an additional stream of revenue for the community that aligns with sustainable natural resource management, and without losing the essential components of survival.

Alternatives to the Phases
It is important to recognize that the phased approach is a construct developed in 1979 in the United States and as such may not be a relevant means of categorizing LIK. For example, is constructing a storm shelter when you know a storm is coming in seven days part of preparedness, mitigation, or response? It is certain that, without being able to read the signs, an outsider could see these actions as either “too little, too late”, or playing Chicken Little. Pérodin et al. suggest that the disaster phases may be understood differently through the lens of LIK: for marginalized communities of color in Miami-Dade, Florida, preparedness and mitigation activities are considered luxuries, which reduces the disaster experience to “worry about survival” and “fulfilling financial obligations” (2022, 289). They argue that the intersecting pressures of food security, shelter, safety and security create a very different perspective on events such as hurricanes. For those facing very real threats to their subsistence on a daily basis, a natural hazard is not the biggest concern during what is typically identified as the preparedness phase.

Furthermore, when addressing the hazard does becomes central, their survival needs and cultural identity dictate their actions, based on their metīs knowledge of what they need. These actions may seem counter to understood best practice. For example, sending resources out of the threat zone but remaining themselves would ensure their uninsured assets are protected, but also ensure they continue to go to work, an essential for meeting needs after the event. The aftermath of a natural event like a hurricane can be worse than the actual event for marginalized communities, even when they were not directly impacted by the storm. They may be engaged in risky cleanup work, subject to debris dumps in their community, or have issues with transportation to work and health services. These conditions ensure a perpetual cycle, alternating between “worry about survival” and “fulfilling financial obligations” (Pérodin et al. 2022, 289), which does not stabilize before the next hazard event. While the actions of these communities counter technical best practice, their metīs knowledge has enabled them to adapt, survive and face ongoing challenges in their ‘frying pan to fire’ environment.

 

Ineffective LIK

While there are many examples of LIK amplifying disaster preparedness both before and after impact, there are also examples of LIK lowering risk resilience. Often, LIK cannot be placed into a single “type,” because technical, ecological, and socio-cultural knowledge are woven together in a cultural memory and tied to beliefs, values and worldview. These cultural beliefs need to be understood, as beliefs predicate action (Baumwell 2008) and worldview or the lens through which a community perceives the world are directly linked to coping and survival strategies (Jayakaran 2007).

For example, during the 1991 eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines, some of the Aeta people, who had lived on the mountain for centuries, refused to evacuate, ultimately succumbing to ash and pyroclastic flows. Their decision to remain was based in two elements of indigenous knowledge. First, the socio-cultural understanding of volcanic activity as the expression of the deity Apo Namalyari who resides in the mountain (Güss and Pangan 2004). Second, and tightly coupled with the first, was the knowledged that government engineers drilled the mountain in 1989, disrupting Apo Namlyari. Since the Aeta had for centuries lived in harmony with the mountain, it was very logical to assume that the wrath of the deity would target those who deserved it, sparing the innocent.

Similarly, spiritual explanations for natural phenomena in East Timor have both served to justify and in other cases deter scientific mitigation measures (McWilliam et al. 2020). Natural hazards, such as flooding and landslides, have been identified by community members as a reaction of the spirits in nature to the way the forest has been cared for. While using a different mediating variable, the cause (deforestation) and effect (landslide and flooding) are the same as those identified by conservation scientists and one of the proposed solutions (a return to conservation principles) is also agreed upon. However, there is also an understanding that natural hazards are influenced by the troubled spirits of ancestors killed during World War II and the resistance struggles whose bodies did not receive proper burial. In identifying this cause of flooding and landslides, a very rational treatment was proposed in reconciliation ceremonies to honor the dead.

In Canada, community collective memory of historical conflict and injustice became a barrier to flood recovery in the Kanesatake community (Fayazi, Bisson and Nicholas 2020). While many other systemic issues make flood mitigation and recovery complicated for this community, such as lack of land tenure, sovereignty disputes, and lack of flood insurance options, the resources of the Canadian Armed Forces was turned down during the 2017 flood event and deferred as a backup option during the 2019 flood in Kanesatake and the surrounding region. This decision is directly tied to the conflict between Kanesatake people and Armed Forces personnel in 1998-1990, dubbed the Oka crisis. The standoff over land rights escalated with the introduction of military personnel and provincial police, resulting in almost 100 people injured. “The devastating physical and emotional wreckage caused by the Armed Forces has left scars in the Kanesatake community as well as other Indigenous communities across Canada” (Fayazi, Bisson, and Nicholas 2020, 5).

 

Discussion

The cases and examples mentioned above are interesting, perhaps insightful, but are only useful insofar as they initiate change. Despite recognition of the value of LIK in several global policies and guidelines on disaster risk reduction, it is predominantly recognized as “non-science” (de Rivera 2022, 7) and seems to be less and less important over time. The false dichotomy between LIK and scientific knowledge needs to be replaced with a better understanding of the value of all types of knowledge for building the resilience of the whole of community. The literature of LIK in the North American context is woefully incomplete and steps can be taken to remedy this problem. There is a clear role for LIK in disaster management strategies, which should be laid out in policy, researched in academia and implemented by practitioners.

Policy Changes

The wording of key policy documents reflects the change in the role and value of local knowledge in the literature and ultimately in practice and can be encapsulated in three historical perspectives which are highlighted below along with a consideration of changes that can be made.

Celebrating LIK
In the 1990s, failures of government bureaucracy to mitigate or effectively response to disasters, both in the US and around the world, paved the way for recognition of local and indigenous knowledge in disaster risk management. The PAR model (Wisner et al. 2004) and the rise of Community-based Disaster Risk Reduction (Venton and Hansford 2006) exemplify this movement to address underlying structural causes of vulnerability and promote. The International Decade for Disaster Reduction, which resulted in the Yokohama Strategy, also ushered in a domestic response. Project Impact, launched in 1997 by then FEMA director Witt, was an initiative to engage citizens in the process of making their own community more resistant to disasters (Armstrong 2000).

Circumventing LIK
Unfortunately, the end of the 1990s and the turn of the century were not kind, with failed states and the global rise of terrorism pushing security to the forefront of disaster management strategies. Under these pressures, a move towards tighter bureaucracy, scientific approaches and an increasing role for technology is reflected in policy documents from the Hyogo Framework for Action to presidential directives under the George H.W. Bush administration. The well-documented changes after the September 11 terrorist attacks in 2001 (i.e. the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, the development of the National Response Plan, and the focus on terrorism) reversed direction, and introduced a “centralized, highly structured, closed system entrusted solely to trained professionals” (Hess and Harrald, as cited in Rubin 2020). This system returned to a top-down approach, and with a lack of solid coordination and governance, proved disastrous in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

Policy changes, qualitative research, and adjustments to practice after Hurricane Katrina were significant and influenced the next fifteen years of disaster management in the United States. The Post-Katrina Emergency Management Reform Act (PKEMRA) clarified the top-down approach and emphasized comprehensive emergency management, focused on all phases, not just all hazards. Coming at a similar time to the HFA, PKEMRA also emphasized reducing losses from disasters, increasing professionalism and focusing on more technical coordination.

Considering LIK
The last decade has seen increased policy language considering the role of LIK, but largely in a supporting role. The Whole Community Approach (FEMA 2011) is incorporated into the National Preparedness System and is emphasized in the most recent FEMA strategic plan (2022). Whole Community recognizes that “there are many different formal and informal leaders…all of whom have valuable knowledge” (FEMA 2011, 10). However, descriptions of whole community action in the National Response Framework (FEMA 2019) and other elements of the National Preparedness System describe providing knowledge of national systems to community members and identifying which members and agencies have the desired capabilities. The only references to knowledge in the most recent strategic plan describe educating communities on climate adaptation and the availability of FEMA climate adaptation resources (FEMA 2022).

This language is very similar to the Sendai Framework and SDG language which recommends LIK as a complement to scientific knowledge. Even though LIK, collaboration, and bottom-up, community-based approaches are affirmed, the perceived inadequacy of these knowledges drives program decisions towards using technoscientific knowledge as a foundation, with LIK as add-ons (Trogrlić et al. 2022). Unfortunately, this means a tendency to assume that LIK is not scientific. In fact, there is evidence that LIK represents multiple types of knowledge, including technoscientific.

LIK and Scientific Knowledge

An alternate typology of LIK is proposed by Hiwasaki et al. (2014). In a multi-country study in Southeast Asia, a framework was developed with four categories using a matrix of scientific explanation or validity, and relevance to disaster management processes (Table 2).

Table 2. Categorization of LIK on Relevance and Relationship to Scientific Validation (modified from Hiwasaki et al. 2014)

Category I LIK which can be scientifically explained/validated, and related to disaster management	Category II LIK which cannot be scientifically explained/validated, but is related to disaster management
Category III LIK which can be scientifically explained/validated, but not related to disaster management	Category IV LIK which cannot be scientifically explained/validated, and not related disaster management

Although this categorization is external and using scientific knowledge as a yardstick, it does establish that many traditions, practices and beliefs grounded in LIK, while seen as metīs, have scientific explanations and may historically have been techne. That is, while the current generation engages in these practices because they are socio-cultural norms, the process of developing this practice was not likely a coincidence. For example, earthquake-resistant house construction in Indonesia shows evidence of progressive trialing – past generations adapted their process over time (Kurnio et al. 2021).

Furthermore, using established science as a measure for explanation and validity does not determine whether knowledge is technical or not. An interesting example (LeMoigne et al. 2022) comes from the Nisga’a First Nation of British Colombia, Canada, which lost 2,000 people during a volcanic eruption circa 1700 CE. Oral and written histories seem to contradict the previously understood science of volcanic flow but have recently been corroborated by petrophysical data to describe the eruption. Science now has a greater understanding of small-volume monogenetic volcanoes and the specific conditions which pose greater risk. This indigenous knowledge of more than 300 years is only now being “recognized” by science for its accuracy.

In a different perspective on the dichotomy, Kalland (2000) proposes that all local knowledge can be categorized as empirical, paradigmatic, or institutional. Empirical local knowledge is the environmental data collected and selected for survival and adaptation. It is practical knowledge and much more qualitative in nature, but still grounded in factual observations. Paradigmatic knowledge deals with the interpretation or explanation of these observations and is often drawn from inductive, rather than deductive, reasoning in local and indigenous contexts. Finally, institutional knowledge is embedded in socio-cultural practices and institutions.

Gaps in the Literature

While the literature on LIK for disaster preparedness and mitigation is growing, it is still limited, especially from North America. Many of the case studies reviewed were initiated post-hoc, answering questions as to why specific structures, communities, etc., fared differently during a disaster event. The lack of American examples of LIK for disaster preparedness in the literature is the result of three issues which can and are being addressed by researchers and practitioners.

Eradication
First, the eradication of that knowledge from many peoples means there is less knowledge to be found. A long history of suppression of indigenous voices, languages and ideas in the US has severely impacted oral traditions, with a large amount of LIK being lost. It is important to protect that knowledge through support for cultural protections. The success of the Tayal in Taiwan, both in teaching the younger generation traditional methods of survival, but also developing eco-tourism as a way to invest in protecting that knowledge can be seen as an example of reversing this trend.

Within the North American context, leading voices for the use of LIK in disaster management include Darlene Yellow Old Woman-Munro and Lilia Yumagulova. Their recent works (Vogel et al. 2022; Yumagulova et al. 2020; 2023) identify the value of LIK for climate change adaptation, natural resource conservation and resilience-building measures. They also specifically address the harmful disruption caused by colonization, land dispossession and genocide, which included forced migration, loss of knowledge transfer, and collapse of social resilience capacity.

Fayazi, Bisson, and Nicholas (2020) provide an example of this disruption from the Kanesatake First Nations community, where unhealed wounds from colonization and land seizures have created barriers for community access to resources necessary for adaptation to current climate conditions. Colonial laws, intent on assimilation, stripped many First Nations people in North America of their cultural practices, language and access to land and resources, the very elements on which their local and indigenous knowledge was developed over centuries and millennia.

Extraction
Becker et al. (2008) describe a video produced by the Washington State Emergency Management Division (WSEMD), which records a Hoh storyteller recounting a traditional story about tsunami on the Olympic Peninsula Pacific coast Hoh lands, where howling bears can be a precursor to earthquake and tsunami. The storyteller, Viola Riebe, volunteered through discussion with the Olympic Peninsula Intertribal Cultural Advisory Committee to record the story. The plan for the video was to identify transferable lessons which could be applied across cultures, and even to other countries, hence the name “Run to higher ground.”. This intentional collaboration, through cooperative, can be seen as extractive, capitalizing on the LIK of the Hoh people for the benefit of the state apparatus. It is certain that this story was chosen because it supports the existing planning measures of WSEMD, as seen in the video with clips of the tsunami evacuation route signs.

This trend of drawing from specific LIK to identify universal best practice is seen elsewhere. Hiwasaki et al. (2014) identify the Simeulue story as motivation behind both the example above and development of similar stories within other contexts, such as Vanuatu. The smong story has been suggested for use all across Indonesia as well (Rahman et al. 2022). Another example comes from Timor Leste, where the government attempted to make a specific cultural tale part of the national consciousness for disaster preparedness. While some local knowledge can be transferrable to other contexts, promoting only LIK that fits within the technoscientific framework runs the risk of excluding other equally valuable forms of knowledge.

Exclusion
A search for only the knowledge which can be explained and validated by scientific methods (what Hiwasaki et al., 2014 call Category 1 knowledge) means a wealth of other knowledge is available and undocumented. By only recognizing the LIK which can be explained externally or universally, significant capacity for risk management is ignored, or perhaps even disrupted by insistence on “scientific methods”.

While there is no consensus on the explanation, observation on the behavior of snakes before earthquakes has been conducted in China (Deken, 2007). Snakes appear to detect earthquakes before humans and are seen as an effective early warning, possibly giving people the few extra seconds needed to take shelter. Even though this anecdotal evidence is not sufficient to recommend international best practice, it should not be discredited within the local context.

Relevance

The concept of relevance is distinctly important for an understanding of LIK. LIK is contextualized in place, but also within a social context. When the context changes (through migration, environmental changes such as deforestation or climate change, or the introduction of other tools and materials), the traditional knowledge may no longer be appropriate. As Agrawal suggests (1995), it should be tested for continued relevance in the modern context, and perhaps compared against other technology. An American example of LIK that was at one time considered rational is the Smokey Bear campaign of the US Park service (Donovan and Brown 2007). Despite changes in land management and fire science knowledge, the metīs knowledge of complete fire suppression is persistent across the United States and the message has not changed.

Examples of LIK that were not effective may be cases of a change in relevance. The Aeta people living on Mount Pinatubo had a history of believing that they would be spared the wrath of the god, because of their harmonious existence with the mountain. However, historical record provides evidence that the Aeta people originally lived much further from the summit and were pushed off their land by colonialism and agricultural settlement, boxing them into a small area on the slopes of the volcano (Acaba 2008). At the time of the 1991 eruption, their environment was significantly different than during the previous events, knowledge of which had shaped their socio-cultural traditions.

In the case of Kanesatake, events in recent memory had reaffirmed their knowledge that the Canadian government and especially the military could not be trusted. Knowledge based on such a long list of examples was not likely to be overturned quickly, similar to the ingrained cultural knowledge of forest fire prevention in America.

Relevance speaks to context: has the context in which the knowledge was created changed? This would make the LIK less reliable. However, if the context has not changed, LIK, whether validated by science or not, may be useful to newcomers. Immigrant Gilbertese would have benefited from local knowledge of early warning signs before the 2007 tsunamis on the Solomon Islands (McAdoo, Moore, and Baumwoll 2009). Similarly, Palu was predominantly populated by non-indigenous people who did not understand the local words of warning before the 2018 tsunami (Reksa 2021). While LIK has a role in protecting immigrants, it can also be carried with emigrants. Kurnio et al. (2021) document how traditional earthquake-resistant housing is found in parts of Indonesia with lower earthquake risk, evidence of ancestral migration from more earthquake-prone regions. In this case, immigrant housing was more durable than indigenous housing to earthquake risk.

Pérodin et al. (2022) address the issue of LIK which does not fit the traditional paradigm when they looked at metīs knowledge among marginalized communities in Florida to reconceptualize disaster phases. For example, they found that for economically marginalized households, the response phase “is not just about saving lives; it is also a time of worry for those living in the aftermath” (p.295). For many, disasters have two phases: coming and arrived, and the actions of preparedness or mitigation are a luxury they cannot afford. For some, the only way to prepare is to expect the worst and then, if you survive, worry about how long that can last. This knowledge on survival techniques and coping mechanisms may not seem rational from an external context, but support for actions based on this knowledge will better ensure survival than investing in solutions not relevant for the local context.

Future Study

Although the understanding of, and adaptation towards, local and indigenous knowledge in the field of disaster management has grown exponentially since 2004, we are still only twenty years along and there is much more to be learned. While some of the barriers created through colonialism, genocide and forced migrations around the world are tragically irreversible, there are others that can be removed through practice of inclusion, consideration, reconciliation and reparation. The example of the Tayal people in Taiwan (Lee and Chen 2021) maintaining LIK through indigenous tourism which not only maintains their inheritance, but increases resilience of surrounding communities should be studied for lessons learned.

Continued documentation of LIK should expand beyond the focus and agenda of affirming pre-accepted best practice. Understanding practices that do not seem to fit with science and history are opportunities for discovery. Practices which are holdovers (such as overly earthquake-resistant homes built after migration in Indonesia) are evidence of additional resilience. Other holdovers which are less than adequate need to be understood as a baseline vulnerability to the adapted environment. As previously mentioned, it is only by revealing indigenous knowledge that it can be evaluated for the current local context. Perhaps traditional practices provide valuable lessons learned about the local experience which translates to better preparedness for all. Alternatively, analysis may reveal that traditional beliefs (such as total wildfire suppression) are no longer best practice in the changing context. At the least, understanding local beliefs and practices can enable appropriate support for response.

Finally, longitudinal studies of LIK evolution are not available in the literature. Since all knowledge is dynamic, as part of culture, snapshot descriptions of LIK are not necessarily representative of the evolving practice on the ground. Understanding both how LIK was put into a practice in times past and how it is utilized over time are valuable additions to the literature.

Application

The incorporation of LIK in disaster planning requires participatory approaches. There are excellent examples of frameworks for community-based disaster risk reduction, such as those developed by Tearfund (Venton and Hansford 2006) or the Red Cross (IFRC 2008). Building on these, frameworks for building community resilience emphasize the role of LIK, including examples from Australia (Hegney et al. 2008), Canada (Cox and Hamlen 2015) and the US (B. Pfefferbaum, Pfefferbaum, and Van Horn 2015; R. L. Pfefferbaum et al. 2013).

These frameworks start with a participatory approach to understanding risk, vulnerability and capacity, allowing for different definitions and perspectives within a community. Disaster management practitioners may have a good understanding that some are more vulnerable than others, but an understanding of how and why can provide opportunities for reducing these vulnerabilities at a sub-community level. While it is generally understood that senior citizens are more vulnerable to heat waves, identifying barriers, such as transportation, mobility assistance, or modes of receiving alerts can be helpful in providing appropriate services (Nayak et al. 2019)

The same can be said for capacities – underestimating capacity can result in providing unused services when citizens manage with their own resources. In Green County, NY, a community engagement process determined that the need for evacuation shelters was significantly lower than originally anticipated since the majority of the population planned to stay with family or in hotel (Crawford and King 2023). This allowed planning and budget allocations to be focused on areas of greater vulnerability, utilizing the existing capacity within the community.

Conclusion

Local and indigenous knowledge (LIK) describes knowledge that is place-based and specific knowledge of the environment and may include long-term cultural ties or traditional ownership. Disaster risk theory, which is a relatively new field in the last century, was largely focused on human vulnerability to the natural world until the 1990s. At this time, a greater understanding of human and social capacity for adaptation to the environment emerged in the literature, largely drawn from work in sustainable development and anthropological studies.

In 2006, the smong story started to circulate, first among practitioners and then into academic literature. Smong is the word used in traditional languages on Simeulue Island, Indonesia, for tsunami, and carried warning through oral tradition. Passed down since the 1907 tsunamic catastrophe, this local knowledge saved hundreds of lives during the 2006 Indian ocean tsunami event. After 2006, there is a distinct uptick in academic literature of case studies and similar examples of LIK for disaster preparedness and response, but also examples of mitigation and recovery knowledge.

This chapter reviews the recent literature of LIK for disasters, exploring the dichotomy of LIK as opposite to “technoscientific” knowledge (de Rivera 2022), a framework with roots back to ancient Greek philosophers, who made the distinction between techne and metīs knowledge, recognizing techne as superior. This dichotomy is evident in global and domestic policy documents, from the Sendai Framework (United Nations 2015a) to A Whole Community Approach to Emergency Management (FEMA 2011), but is not evident in local and indigenous knowledge as documented in the literature.

In fact, there are many examples of highly technical and scientific LIK, from construction and engineering techniques to agricultural innovations and adaptations. One typology of LIK identified technological, ecological, sociocultural and historical knowledges (Dekens 2007). Evidence of effective LIK for disaster management is seen in all four of the traditional disaster management phases: preparedness, response, recovery and mitigation. Examples from Africa, Asia, South America and North America are provided here, and others from Australia (Hadlos, Opdyke, and Hadigheh 2022, 7; Spurway 2018) and Europe (Gül 2022; Reichel and Frömming 2014) are plentiful in the literature.

Dichotomy is not an accurate way to represent the spectrum of knowledge. LIK can and does include scientific knowledge, especially since knowledge is dynamic, progressive and adaptive. Knowledge changes as the environment and context change and as new experiences are introduced. A better consideration would be of local and global knowledge as two points of view, and not necessarily distinct. Each stakeholder brings knowledge about disaster risk, some of that knowledge is deductive and universally applicable, while other knowledge is inductive and perhaps only relevant in a local context. LIK is specifically valuable for the context in which it arose but may also be universally or more widely applicable in other contexts.

Not all LIK is effective for disaster risk management and some practices have caused more harm than benefit to disaster-affected communities. LIK becomes a part of identity as empirical data is normalized and institutionalized (Kalland 2000). Only further disruptions (such as natural hazard events) will cause an adjustment of practice. There are several examples of communities practicing what they know because there has never been a need to adapt and there has been no evidence that adaptation is necessary. An old story is recounted in several American traditions of a woman trimming the ends of a cut of meat before roasting it, because that is how she learned to do it (Barbara Mikkelson and David Mikkelson 1999). After questioning her mother, they both ask the grandmother why she did this. Grandma explains that it was to fit the cut in her roasting pan! This story highlights the transition of empirical knowledge to institutional knowledge, a common occurrence for LIK over time. However, there is also evidence that knowledge passed down over centuries can be extremely accurate and relevant, simply waiting for science to “catch up” (LeMoigne et al. 2022).

The increased recognition for the role of LIK in disaster management is not as forthcoming in the United States. Some of the reason for this is historical, as a system of suppression and eradication decimated indigenous practices and the attached knowledge. Since local knowledge is place-based, forced relocation and extractive practices have also cut the roots of LIK in North America. Nevertheless, communities continue to adapt to a changing environment. Local and indigenous knowledge for disaster management still exists and is relevant in the United States.

The work of Pérodin et al. (2022) with marginalized communities in Florida is an excellent example of linking resident actions pre and post hurricane to their socio-cultural context, and explaining these actions in light of the knowledge they have about the realities they face. This builds on the work of Cutter et al. (2008), Cox and Perry (2011) and others that have linked place and community to disaster management behaviors and actions. A better understanding of how citizens use LIK in disasters is needed in the American context.

Rather than seeing LIK as unscientific, practitioners working with the whole of community can prioritize identification and understanding of LIK as part of the vulnerability and capacity assessment process. Incorporating LIK can strengthen community resilience to disasters. It is also important to recognize that immigrants bring their own knowledge, which may not be adequate for the risks in the new environment. In upstate New York, sirens are used to alert volunteer firefighters of an emergency. These same sirens are used in Arkansas for tornado warnings and require an immediate shelter response. Ensuring new residents benefit from LIK can reduce risk and save lives.

References