A PEDAGOGY OF THE LAND
Terry Tempest Williams
On July 15, 1838, Ralph Waldo Emerson answered the call of six graduating students from the Harvard Divinity School to be their commencement speaker. In the Divinity Chapel of Divinity Hall, he spoke to the students, their families and a full audience of skeptical clergy. His opening sentence did not highlight Christianity but Earth, itself. “In this refulgent summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath of life. The grass grows, the buds burst, the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers.” His next sentence was simple and direct: The air is full of birds, and sweet with the breath of the pine…” He praised birds and the breath of trees, not the voice of preachers. Emerson, in what is now known as his “Divinity School Address,” preached to the preachers and graduating seniors that their god was too small. He encouraged them to seek
the wonders right here on Earth, not just in heaven, to “…let the breath of new life be breathed by you through the forms already existing.” He went on to say, “And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation, than the loss of worship?”
Almost two centuries later on November 12, 2024, Darren Parry, former Chairman of the Northwest Band of the Shoshone Nation, addressed a group of graduating seniors and academics at the Harvard Divinity School in that same chapel in Divinity Hall. He spoke of education and how the American academy is too small. He presented a different vision, “a vision rooted in our own ways of knowing, a vision where our children learn the truth about who they are, empowered by the teachings of our elders, where they grow in strength and in spirit, connect to the land that has always been ours.” He spoke of his own people’s history, how the Bear River Massacre that took place on the border of Utah and Idaho on January 29, 1863, was the single largest genocide in American his-
tory with estimates of 400 to 600 Northwest Shoshone people, largely women and children slaughtered by U.S. calvary, spurred on by the fears of colonizers. He spoke of his ancestors bodies left butchered and bleeding on their land in the newly fallen snow. “We are still here,” Darren Parry said. “To rebuild our nations, we must break free from the structures that have confined us, structures that prioritize the individual over the collective, that teach separation instead of unity. State education systems were never meant to serve us; they were meant to mold us into what the colonizers needed us to be, to uphold a system that was never ours.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson and Darren Parry are brothers in their call for a larger vision of the United States of America and a larger vision of the American Academy. Both men are spiritual leaders breaking set with the orthodoxies, the religious and secular politics of their time. Visionaries in a nation where one was foreseeing a civil war; and another who has witnessed through the generations, government at war
with indigenous peoples resulting in stolen lands and cultural genocide.
Darron Parry delivered to the students in the Divinity Chapel, now known by many as Emerson’s Chapel in 2024, an address calling for the “Indigenization of the American Academy.” It is a breathtaking call for a whole curriculum at Harvard, not a siloed and specialized one, but “a land pedagogy,” that does not foster values rooted in capitalism, “profit over people,” but a way of learning that benefits all life, not just our own – interrelated and interconnected.
“We need education that teaches not just skills, but values; not just knowledge, but wisdom; an education that prepares us to face the challenges of tomorrow with a deep sense of responsibility to the Earth and all living things.” Parry said. And in so doing, we hear echoes of Emerson’s essay, “The American Scholar.”
Darren Parry asks us to imagine and reimagine an academy that unifies us, instead of divides us, that invites us into a pedagogy
that is capable of “empowering individuals to serve their communities, to heal the land and to uplift one another.” He says, “This shift requires us to move away from the narrow focus on economic outcomes, and to embrace a holistic view that integrates the wisdom of our ancestors with the knowledge of today.”
I cannot think of a more worthy endeavor than this profound proposal for a truly emancipatory education within the halls of higher education. It is time to rethink our educational systems in the United States of America. The Trump administration is determined to undermine Harvard and other universities and colleges. His administration has destroyed the Department of Education. What they fear most is an educated populace, a people who think for themselves; and they fail to recognize, much less trust, the power of beauty and the humane force of ideas that have contributed to our evolution as a species from the sciences to the arts and humanities.
What are we to do in this moment of rising authoritarism? How do we uphold our values
of intelligence, curiosity, and the delight of discovering something new? How do the arts and humanities contribute to a just society? What does indigenous wisdom bring to the consciousness and communal knowledge within higher education?
“Resilience and Resistance,” Darren Parry writes, “A refusal to accept an education that strips us of our identity, that disconnects us from the land, that molds us into instruments of a dehumanizing system. We stand against this oppressive system of education with a resilience forged in fire, with the strength of knowing who we are, where we come from, and what we are fighting for.”
Emerson in the closing paragraph of his “Divinity School Address” writes: I look for the hour when that supreme Beauty, shall speak in the West … The Hebrew and Greek Scriptures contain immortal sentences, that have been bread of life to millions. But they have no epical integrity; are fragmentary; are not shown in their order to the intellect. I look for the new Teacher, that shall follow so
far those shining laws, that he shall see them come full circle; shall see their rounding complete grace; shall see the world to be the mirror of the soul; shall see the identity of the law of gravitation with purity of heart; and shall show that the Ought, that Duty, is one thing with Science, with Beauty, and with Joy.
Darren Parry presents us with his indigenous “law of gravitation” that Emerson admonishes. Indigenous knowledge and wisdom is not new, but rooted in the very soil that generates life, and honors the bounties of Earth, physical and spiritual.
May this revolutionary essay, “We Are Not Going Away Quietly” inspire and ignite a new approach to what the American Academy can be and become. By adopting “a land pedagogy,” resilient to the whims and terrors of political power gone awry, we can create towers of learning not made of ivory, but made of stories seeded in our own home grounds where we remember where the true source of power resides.
WE ARE THE NOT THE ONES TO GO QUIETLY
Resilience and Resistance
We are not the ones to go quietly; we are the thunder rolling across these lands, the drumbeat that never ceased. For centuries, they tried to bury us, but like seeds in the spring, we rose again. Our voices were silenced, our languages erased, but we are still here, speaking in tongues they swore would die, in words that hold the fire of our ancestors.
We have carried this pain, yes, but we carry pride too, pride that sits in our chest like a stone, pride that refuses to be broken, even in the hardest of winds. We are still here, and not as shadows, not as whispers, but as the ones who remember, the ones who reclaim. We remember who we are, we remember where we came from, and that memory will never be taken, never be stolen from us again. So, to those who stand in our way, who
think that they can silence us still, hear this: We are rising, we are rising like the mountains they could not tear down, like the rivers they could not stop flowing. We are the ones who know this land, who are bound to it, who will defend it. We are warriors of memory and of spirit, of resistance and of Earth. This fight is in our blood, a promise written across generations.
We stand not for anger’s sake, but for justice and for all that is sacred. So, if you see rage in our eyes, know that it is love too, a love as deep as time, a love as strong as any stone present through the ages. We are here, unafraid, and unbowed, ready to protect what was given to us. We do not ask for permission to exist, we are here to live, we are here to speak, we are here to stand, and we are here to resist. And we will not go quietly!
In the beginning of time, the Creator made the mountains. They stood as the sentinels of the earth, their peaks sometimes piercing the heavens. One day the mountains held a grand council, and their voices could be heard in the thunder.
From the tallest peak to the shortest hill, each mountain spoke and shared their wisdom and vision. They discussed the creation of the world and considered every detail. They decided their first act would be to create the rocks and stones, from the smallest pebble to the most magnificent boulder. They would mark the paths and guide the waters, and hold the ancient stories of Earth.
Next, the mountains turned their attention to the plants. The mighty pine that would stand tall, providing shelter and stability through all of the seasons. The delicate wildflowers would bring color and fragrance, spreading their beauty across the meadows. The sage, cedar and tobacco would offer their healing properties that would cleanse and purify the spirits of those who used them.
They created the animals next, and they each had a purpose. The great eagle, with its keen sight, would soar above and watch over the land, and speak to the creator when needed. The Bear who was strong and wise, would roam the forests, teaching the other animals
the importance of strength and courage. The Wolf, with its sense of community, would travel in packs, showing their loyalty and unity.
Finally, the mountains spoke of the water, the lifeblood of the world. They decided that the rivers and streams would flow from their peaks, bringing nourishment and life to all beings. The lakes would be the mirrors of the sky, always reflecting the beauty of the universe.
With their job complete, the mountains stood back and watched the world come into being. They watched each element play its part in the grand design, and it became a testament to the wisdom of the mountain’s council. Today, the mountains continue to stand as guardians of their creation and their presence is a reminder of the wisdom that is hidden within every peak. Imagine an Indigenous world where traditional knowledge and practices are respected and integrated into modern society, where land and the natural resources are preserved and protected, where
community is prioritized over individualism, where diversity and inclusion are celebrated and where indigenous peoples and other marginalized groups have full agency and control over their own lives and future.
A world where people lived in harmony with one another, recognizing the inherent value and worth of every individual regardless of their background.
Imagine a world where the water and air are clean and pure. A world where we are taught to love one another and be united in all things, and to be thankful for the favors we received.
This was the world of my ancestors, the Native American people who lived on this land long before the arrival of Europeans. They had a deep understanding of the interconnectedness of all things and they lived in balance with the natural world. They honored the spirits of the earth, the sky, and the water, and recognized the vital role that each play in sustaining life.
But then, everything changed. With the
arrival of colonizers came a wave of destruction, devastation and despair. The land was taken from the native people, their sacred sites destroyed or desecrated, their culture and tradition suppressed or banned.
But, even in the face of this darkness, our spirits were not extinguished. Even though they took the land, even though they tried to break us, they could not break the bond that ties us to this Earth, and to each other, and to the spirit of life itself. Generations endured, carrying the embers of our traditions, keeping alive the songs, and the languages spoken in quiet defiance. Even as they sought to sever us from our roots, those which grew deeper, finding strength in the very soil they tried to take from us.
“Imagine a world where the water and air are clean and pure. A world where we are taught to love one another and be united in all things, and to be thankful for the favors we received.”
A Turning Point
And now, we stand at a turning point, a resurgence of indigenous nation-building, a time of remembering and reclaiming who we truly are. We know that the path forward is not in the systems designed to erase us but in returning to the wisdom that has always guided us. It is a call to return our languages to the spiritual practices that connect us to all living things, a call to reimagine education not as a tool of assimilation, but as a process of awakening. This resurgence is a return to the sacred, to the knowledge of our ancestors who understood that true strength is not found in division, but in community, and in honoring of all of our relations.
To rebuild our nations, we must break free from the structures that have confined us, structures that prioritize the individual over the collective, that teach separation instead of unity. State education systems were never meant to serve us; they were meant to mold us into what the colonizers needed us to be, to uphold a system that was never ours.
But we have a different vision. A vision rooted in our own ways of knowing, a vision where our children learn the truth about who they are, empowered by the teachings of our elders, where they grow in strength and in spirit and connect to the land that has always been ours.
This resurgence of indigenous nation building will require generations of indigenous peoples to be immersed in our own languages and spirituality. This may require a radical break from the systems -- systems that are designed to produce communities of individuals willing to uphold settler colonialism.
“We know that the path forward is not in the systems designed to erase us but in returning to the wisdom that has always guided us.”
Land As Pedagogy
My people, the Shoshone people, use stories to advocate for a reclamation of land as pedagogy in order to nurture a generation of indigenous peoples that already have the skill and knowledge, and values, to rebuild our own nation, according to our own worldviews and values. We need to begin to have important discussions on how to ethically and responsibly bring indigenous knowledge into academia as a way of legitimizing the knowledge of indigenous peoples, as an intellectual system on par with western traditions.
We need to produce more indigenous scholars as a mechanism for having a stronger presence within the colonial system. We need elders on college and university faculties who gain tenure based on their expertise and indigenous knowledge, not based on their western credentials. Indigenous people need to stop looking for legitimacy within the colonizers education system and return to valuing and recognizing their own individual and collective intelligence.
If academia is really concerned about protecting and maintaining indigenous intelligence, then academia must make a conscious decision to become the decolonizing force in the intellectual lives of indigenous people. Join us in dismantling settler colonialism and actively protecting the source of our knowledge, which comes from the land.
Two hundred years ago, Shoshone elders were not preparing their children for successful career paths in a capitalistic system. Their stories were meant to create self-motivated, self-directed, community-minded, brilliant loving citizens, who, at their core, upheld ideals around family and community. Traditional stories passed down, and lived stories shared, encouraged their children to find their joy, and place it at the center of their lives. It encouraged their children to value consent. This was key to the building of nations where exploitation, extraction, and depletion was unthinkable. The beauty of a culturally inherent resurgence is that it challenges the system, it challenges settler colonialism.
For my ancestors, education was not about career paths or climbing ladders in the system to exploit the earth and its people. It was about preparing each generation to live in harmony with the land, to be stewards of the world around them, to care for one another in a way that ensured the survival of the whole community.
Our elders were not concerned with creating cogs for the capitalistic machine; they were nurturing individuals who can think critically, act compassionately, and live responsibly. Their stories were lessons in resilience, in resisting the forces sought to fragment us, teaching us how to stay whole in the face of relentless change.
This is the beauty of culturally inherent resurgence: it does more than preserve our traditions; it actively challenges the capitalistic system that prioritizes profit over people, over the Earth, over the very things that sustains life itself.
If we are to truly transform our future, we must rethink what education means. It cannot simply be about producing graduates that fill roles in an unsustainable system. Instead, it must be about empowering individuals to serve their
communities, to heal the land and to uplift one another.
We need education that teaches not just skills, but values; not just knowledge, but wisdom; an education that prepares us to face the challenges of tomorrow with a deep sense of responsibility to the earth and all living things. This shift requires us to move away from the narrow focus on economic outcomes, and to embrace a holistic view that integrates the wisdom of our ancestors with the knowledge of today.
“For my ancestors, education was not about career paths or climbing ladders in the system to exploit the earth and its people. It was about preparing each generation to live in harmony with the land, to be stewards of the world around them, to care for one another in a way that ensured the survival of the whole community.”
The Indigenization of the American Academy
Can you imagine if our science classrooms were guided, not just by scientific method, but by traditional knowledge that understands the earth as a living, breathing entity, where we are not separate from the ecosystems, but part of them.
Imagine if business schools taught not just how to maximize profits, but how to maximize the well-being of communities and the health of the planet. What if future business leaders were trained to see beyond quarterly earnings, and to consider the impact of their decisions on the next seven generations?
Imagine a curriculum that emphasizes reciprocity and stewardship over exploitation; where students learn the principles of sustainable resource management, rooted in indigenous teachings. In this vision, business education would shift from competition to collaboration, teaching that true success is not measured by financial gain, but by the strength and resilience of the community. Students would learn that the
land is not a commodity to be consumed, but a relative to be cared for, that economies thrive, not by extracting and depleting, but by giving back, regenerating, and supporting ecosystems.
Imagine if entrepreneurship were taught as a means of serving the greater good, where the creation of value includes nurturing social bonds, uplifting marginalized voices, and ensuring balance between humans and the natural world. This would be a business education rooted in the understanding that we are all interconnected, that our success is bound to the well-being of the earth and each other.
Imagine if our social sciences were grounded in indigenous wisdom, where the study of human behavior in societies is not detached and objective, but deeply relational and compassionate.
What if anthropology, sociology, and political science, embraced the understanding that our identities are woven together with the land, with each other, and with the spirits that guide us?
Imagine a shift where research is conducted not on communities, but with them, honoring their knowledge and lived experiences as equal to
academic theories. In this vision, social scientists would learn that every culture holds its own valuable truths, that resilience is found in the strength of community bonds, and that healing societal issues requires a holistic approach; one that includes spirituality, ceremony, and the honoring of ancestors.
The focus within academia would not be on categorizing or controlling human behavior, but on nurturing empathy, building bridges of understanding, and fostering interconnectedness. This is a social science that doesn’t just analyze the world, but seeks to heal it, guided by the belief that the well-being of one is tied to the well-being of all.
Imagine if psychology could be transformed to honor not just the mind, but the spirit, the community, and the land that sustains us. Instead of reducing wellness to chemical imbalances and diagnoses, what if we embraced an approach that recognizes the deep connections between our mental health and our relationships with others, and with the earth, and with the sacred?
What if healing practices included ceremonies,
storytelling, and traditional medicines, honoring the wisdom passed down through generations?
Imagine a psychology that sees trauma not just as an individual experience, but as a collective wound that requires community healing; psychology that teaches resilience not as a solitary string but as the ability to draw from the strength of one’s people, one’s ancestors, and the natural world.
In this reimagining space, therapy would be more than a conversation behind closed doors; it would be a reconnection with places and practices that ground us, a return to the circle where healing is shared, and where the stories of our elders guide us back to balance. This is the psychology our ancestors understood, one that can be reclaimed and reshaped to serve all people today.
Imagine if our law schools embraced the ancient principles of restorative justice, where the goal is not punishment but healing, not retribution but restoration. What if, instead of focusing on adversarial courtrooms and punitive measures, we taught future lawyers to seek justice as a
process of repair, of making whole what has been broken?
Imagine a legal education that emphasizes responsibility to mend relationships, to restore harmony within the communities, rather than merely to win a case. In this vision, our legal system would prioritize the well-being of individuals, families, and communities, ensuring that everyone has a voice, that every harm is acknowledged, and that healing can take place. This is the justice my ancestors practiced, where conflict was resolved through dialogue, where solutions were sought not in isolation, but in the wisdom of the collective.
What if law schools taught consensus-building as a foundational skill, honoring the indigenous practice of making decisions through community agreement rather than top-down rulings?
Imagine a new generation of lawyers trained not only in statutes and regulations, but also in the art of listening, and the patience it takes to reach a consensus that truly reflects the will of the people. This would be a radical shift from the current system, where the law often serves
to protect the powerful, to a system that seeks balance, fairness, and respect for all. In this reimagined legal system, the focus would not be on winning or losing, but on finding paths forward that honor the interconnectedness of all living beings.
This is a law rooted in the understanding that justice is not an abstract concept, but a living practice, one that must reflect our shared humanity and our sacred relationship with the land.
To truly embrace resilience and resistance in our education systems, we must break the mold, and create spaces where indigenous wisdom can thrive alongside modern knowledge.
We must teach our children not just how to survive in the world, but how to build a world that can be one where the waters run clean, where the air is pure, where communities are strong, and where the spirit of the land is honored. This is the education that serves not the market, but the people, our communities, and Earth itself.
“Imagine
a curriculum that emphasizes reciprocity and stewardship over exploitation; where students learn the principles of sustainable resource management, rooted in indigenous teachings.”
We Are Not The Ones To Go QuietlyN
We are not the ones to go quietly. We are the thunder rolling across these lands, the echoes of our ancestors’ songs, the prayers whispered to the wind. For too long, we have been told to conform, to adapt, to fit ourselves into a system that was never built for us. But we are still here.
And we are reclaiming our right to reimagine a world where education does not break our spirits, but uplifts them; where the lessons we pass down are not shaped by the demands of the market, but by the wisdom of the earth, by the teachings of our elders, by the values that have sustained us for generations.
This is our resistance. A refusal to accept an education that strips us of our identity, that disconnects us from the land, that molds us into instruments of a dehumanizing system. We stand against this oppressive system of educaton with a resilience forged in fire, with the strength of knowing who we are, where we come from, and what we are fighting for. We
are the ones who dream of a different future — where our business schools teach reciprocity, our sciences honor the sacredness of all living things, our social sciences build bridges of understanding, and our law schools fight for justice rooted in respect.
We carry the teachings of our ancestors not as relics of the past, but as blueprints for a future that embraces balance, community, and compassion. We are the rivers that will not be dammed, the forests that will not be cut down, the mountains that will not be moved. And in this spirit, we call for an education that heals, that nourishes the soul, that connects us back to what truly matters — our people, our communities, and our sacred land.
This is our act of resistance: to refuse to let the dominant system define us. We are reclaiming our voices, our stories, and our power through a pedagogy of the land.
“We are the rivers that will not be dammed, the forests that will not be cut down, the mountains that will not be moved.”
Reslience and Resistance For AllN
So let us move forward, guided by the wisdom of those who came before us, rooted in resilience, driven by resistance. We will not be silent. We will not go quietly into the shadows. We are here to transform, to reimagine, to rebuild a world where we are One.
We are the thunder that will awaken the world, the fire that will light the way. And together, we will create an education that serves not just the individual, but the whole, that nurtures not just the mind, but the spirit, that honors the land and all its living beings.
This is our vision. This is our fight. And we will rise, resilient and unbroken, to build the world that our ancestors dreamed of, and the world that our children deserve.
About Darren Parry
Darren Parry is the former Chairman of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation, an author, educator, and leading voice on Native American history and Indigenous land stewardship. He is the author of The Bear River Massacre: A Shoshone History and Tending the Sacred: How Indigenous Wisdom Will Save the World. Parry teaches Environmental Humanities at the University of Utah and Utah State University, and lectures nationally and internationally on Indigenous perspectives on sustainability, climate resilience, and land stewardship.
Dedicated to N. Scott Momaday, Earth Keeper
February 27, 1934 – January 24, 2024
THE CONSTELLATION PROJECT
terry tempest williams Writer-in-Residence Harvard Divinity School
samuel s. myers, md, mph Director, John Hopkins Institute for Planetary Health and Planetary Health Alliance
We Are Not The Ones To Go Quiety darren parry
Cloud Photographs by edward riddell
Design consultants edward & lee riddell
With gratitude the betsy & jesse fink family foundation
To learn more about The Constellation Project or view and share digital copies please visit:
www.planetaryhealthalliance.org/the-constellation-project
©2026 The Constellation Project
Darren Parry is the former Chairman of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation, an author, educator, and leading voice on Native American history and Indigenous land stewardship. He is the author of The Bear River Massacre: A Shoshone History and Tending the Sacred: How Indigenous Wisdom Will Save the World. Parry teaches Environmental Humanities at the University of Utah and Utah State University, and lectures nationally and internationally on Indigenous perspectives on sustainability, climate resilience, and land stewardship.
Dedicated to N. Scott Momaday, Earth Keeper February 27, 1934 – January 24, 2024
THE CONSTELLATION PROJECT
terry tempest williams Writer-in-Residence Harvard Divinity School
samuel s. myers, md, mph Director, John Hopkins Institute for Planetary Health and Planetary Health Alliance
We Are Not The Ones To Go Quiety darren parry
Cloud Photographs by edward riddell
Design consultants
edward & lee riddell
With gratitude the betsy & jesse fink family foundation
To learn more about The Constellation Project or view and share digital copies please visit: www.planetaryhealthalliance.org/the-constellation-project
©2026 The Constellation Project
