Indigenous people have a time-acquired intimate knowledge of ecosystem functions, distribution of resources and an interconnectedness between the environment and their culture. This is common for indigenous peoples across the globe, who account for less than 5% of the world’s population but hold almost 20% of the earth’s landmass (United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 2009), which has enabled them to endure centuries of living and harvesting from the land. This is referred to as traditional ecological knowledge, the knowledge that is acquired through extensive and long-term coexistence with the environment they inhabit (Berkes et al., 2000). Much of this knowledge is intergenerational observation of people, place and species, which is passed down through generations (McGregor, 2002; Ramstad et al., 2007). Based on indigenous observations of the natural environment, and the reoccurring way in which they occur, hypotheses can be made about how natural systems work. These can be interpreted in a cultural context and used in environmental management practices and ecological preservation. Traditional ecological knowledge is often transmitted via oral traditions of storytelling and song, so can give insight on past ecological states; this can be useful for scientists who are trying to understand the current ecology of ecosystem populations and landscapes (Ramstad et al., 2007).

Indigenous knowledge of the environment can be attributed to indigenous peoples’ reliance on the environment as a provider and their experiences of hardship that have led to sustainable management techniques derived from adaptation to their unique environment. This level of knowledge and understanding of environmental indicators needs to be empowered and elevated in contemporary science as their insight on interconnectedness and interdependence of ecosystem components gives rise to a distinctive perspective on underlying ecosystem structures. Involvement of indigenous values can also result in meaningful community involvement and greater chance for long-term success and indigenous groups can see benefits from early and on-going involvement in incursion response; or long-term management of forest pests and pathogens in the form of economic returns or reinforcements of cultural values (Wehi and Lord, 2017).

Whilst the inclusion of indigenous people in policy and decision-making processes is defined by individual country governance, the ability to include an indigenous perspective and their knowledge into research is in the hands of scientists. New Zealand Māori have often been described as pioneers in forging new pathways for indigenous peoples across the globe (Amoamo et al., 2018; McClure, 2021). In this paper, we show how traditional ecological knowledge can help improve forest biosecurity systems and practices. We will explore the barriers that have and can hinder relationships between scientists and indigenous communities, and outline key principles to engage people and communities for development of co-innovation approaches.

Traditional ecological knowledge, sometimes described as intergenerational knowledge, can provide an important contribution to scientific knowledge (Stevenson, 1996). Although traditional knowledge or practices may not be expressed in biosecurity terms, there are numerous examples of how knowledge could be incorporated across the biosecurity system, in many cases the practices and outcomes are relevant (Lambert and Mark-Shadbolt, 2021; Maclean et al., 2021). Environmental management practices and worldviews of indigenous societies across countries are different but key principles of their relevance and how they can be included to provide insight on how to manage current and future environmental issues is comparable.

For many indigenous peoples, traditional ecological knowledge is often incorporated into storytelling and oral histories and frequently describes a holistic and spiritual connection (Lefale, 2010; Chao and Hsu, 2011; Yuan et al., 2014). The use of prayer and spiritual practices such as the recognition of gods can be an acknowledgement or pay homage to the provider(s) who are the deities over that realm. Hence, understanding the interconnectedness of the knowledge held in respect to its cultural and spiritual significance is important. This can also help understand why certain contemporary science practices or proposed methodologies may be unacceptable or contravene traditional beliefs.

Mātauranga Māori is a large body of knowledge of Polynesian origin, derived and translated through each generation (Hikuroa, 2017; Mercier, 2018). An interconnected knowledge system incorporating both the observed and learned knowledge, which can be both contemporary and traditional. This is a practice that incorporates the seen and the unseen, utilising cosmology and theology, ecology ethics and science.

Understanding ecological environmental impacts caused by biosecurity disruptions will impact on the ability of a community to interact with that environment for traditional or cultural purposes. However, these limitations do not detract from the need to preserve these environments for the intergenerational benefit of those connected to the whenua (land) and those with the responsibility of kaitiakitanga (stewardship) (Kennedy, 2017). This knowledge accumulated by Māori according to their experiences, history, worldview, culture and aspirations can reflect a range of values, concepts, principles and practices that define Māori as a distinct social group but is also knowledge localised to specific iwi (tribes), hapū (sub-tribes), and whanau (families). This interconnectedness that binds generations to the land with the knowledge that the mātauranga will aid the restoration of highly disturbed or affected areas (Lambert and Mark-Shadbolt, 2021). An integral part of mātauranga Māori is pūrākau, Māori cultural narratives, stories and myths shared through generations as a tool to recall culture, history and knowledge (Henare, 2001) and are deliberately constructed to encapsulate and condense the realities of Atua (gods), the universe and humanity, and ultimately Te Ao Māori (Māori world view) (Hikuroa, 2017). Pūrākau is an embodiment of strong cultural roots that foster growth, learning and development (Henare, 2001).

This knowledge, traditional or contemporary, indigenous or western is not unique to the New Zealand Māori but common for most indigenous peoples across the world. Here we provide some brief and selected examples of traditional knowledge and practices of Aboriginal Australians, Aboriginal Canadians and Polynesians that could be used or are relevant management options for forest biosecurity. These are followed by a more in depth case study of New Zealand Māori. In all cases, indigenous knowledge extends substantially beyond the examples provided.

When Māori migrated to New Zealand, the people had to adjust to the different temperatures, seasonal rhythms and to discover new resources. Interacting with the new environment and its processes allowed Māori to learn and develop detailed environmental knowledge over the centuries (King et al., 2008). Through this experience-based understanding of the environment, Māori inherited the ability to live, work and navigate their lives successfully and harmoniously; Māori ancestors established a philosophy of preservation and conservation, which is a foundation for future generations to learn from Harmsworth and Warmenhoven (2002). Māori possess local environmental knowledge, gained through personal experiences and ongoing interactions with their local ecosystems. By understanding the sensitive balance between people and the environment, it enabled Māori to navigate their resources sustainably by living in harmony with all natural elements.

According to Māori traditions, Tāne-mahuta (God of the Forests) is the founder of humankind who fashioned the first woman, Hineahuone, from the soil at Kurawaka (Royal, 2005). Tāne-mahuta assembled Hineahuone of the raw material of Papatūānuku (Earth Mother), he then sneezed into her physical body giving her life and imbued her with mauri (life essence). Hence, the phrase “tihei mauri ora” – the sneeze of life (Roberts et al., 1995). Tāne-mahuta created the perfect being; her tinana (body) is ingrained with mauri, her wairua (spirit) is from the sacred ochre of Papatūānuku, and her hinengaro (mind) is imbued with three baskets of knowledge from the upper-most realm of the heavens (Walker et al., 2019).

This creation story is a source of knowledge that has fashioned the concepts and interconnections Māori have with the environment (Henare, 2001; Harmsworth and Awatere, 2013). This relationship is derived from the notion that humankind has descended from Papatūānuku (Earth Mother) (Higgins, 2004). By mapping kinship relationships with ancestors and their associated environments, Māori created culturally appropriate ways of acting (Forster, 2019). These actions are tabulated through a set of inherited obligations and responsibilities to ancestors, taonga (treasured) sites and for future generations (Forster, 2019).

Kaitiakitanga (guardianship, stewardship) lays down the basis of what constitutes a communal balance; it creates a unique role for each branch within the community in maintaining balance when managing resources (Roberts et al., 1995). Kaitiakitanga is the management of the environment based on Te Ao Māori (the Māori world view) that is: all life is connected and no creature is superior to the natural world but is part of the network or fabric of life. This is the overarching Māori environmental principle to protect and preserve ancestral lands and waters to pass along to subsequent generations (Kennedy, 2017). Māori maintain their relationship to the environment through this practical philosophy of environmental guardianship. There is interdependency between humans and ecosystems, which is expressed in this narrative giving rise to manaaki whenua (caring for the land) and manaaki tangata (caring for the people) (Rameka, 2018). Māori seek to understand the entire ecosystem; this stems from the ideology that biodiversity is embellished through the interrelationships of all living things, which are dependent on each other (Harmsworth and Awatere, 2013). The holistic Māori world view supports the view that ecosystems are made up of many dynamic organisms as a functional unit (Harmsworth and Awatere, 2013), including humans. Ecosystem survival relies on interdependency rather than organisms being indifferent to it.

Philosophically, Māori do not consider tangata (people) to be separate from nature; instead, humanity and nature are direct descendants from mother earth (Henare, 2001; Harmsworth and Awatere, 2013), which reinforces the belief that earth does not belong to humanity, but humanity belongs to the earth. Te Ao Māori is seeking to ensure Papatūānuku and tangata whenua (people of the land) activities are managed in harmony and balance (Wakefield et al., 2006). The kaitiakitanga approach to managing ecosystems is informed by generations of mātauranga passed on and refined over time. It is also founded on, and informed by, a particular belief system or world view deeply grounded in mātauranga developed by physical and spiritual experience.

In many incursions and research programmes related to forest biosecurity, indigenous people are often excluded and under-recognised despite their vast amount of knowledge. Cultural values are infrequently used in goals and priorities across the biosecurity pipeline (Lambert and Mark-Shadbolt, 2021), and often there is failure to recognise ceremonial and medicinal harvesting of plants and of basic food requirements (Wehi and Lord, 2017). Collaboration between indigenous communities, scientists and resource managers on research and management projects is a constructive pathway to bridge science and indigenous knowledge. Inclusion at the science level could also serve to provide exposure for their inclusion at government level.

When scientists engage with indigenous people they bring their scientific knowledge for discussion. Inevitably, there are differences in the two approaches but both groups are wanting to achieve similar goals; the preservation of ecosystems from pest or pathogen threats. A typical issue is that contemporary science knowledge “goes over the heads” of indigenous people as it comes across in unfamiliar terms. Conversely, scientists are generally very unfamiliar with indigenous approaches to ecosystem management, the concepts involved and the language used. Furthermore, when discussed in terms of spirituality or mythology are often dismissed as being non-scientific. There is a barrier or gap between the two groups that can cause projects to stall or for local knowledge never to be brought to bear alongside the scientific knowledge scientists bring to a project. A challenge for the science community is to: understand the world view of the indigenous people whose land or plants they may work with; have a real knowledge of how indigenous people approach forest stewardship; communicate their own knowledge and terms in a way that is familiar and understandable; and be able to engage in meaningful discussions with indigenous people that draws out their traditional ecological knowledge.

A major obstacle for indigenous people is the lack of resources and opportunities for engagement and capacity building (Taiepa et al., 1997). There is an inherent expectation that indigenous people can meet during working hours, when often they have their own jobs. There is also an expectation they can fund travel for themselves and that voluntary participation is acceptable. Conversely, the scientist has a paid position, funds to travel and the research undertaken can lead to secure long-term funding. There can also be a reluctance to formally include indigenous people in scientific publications or research projects beyond engagement. Often this can be directly related to resources but means the scientific community needs to anticipate and include funds in research proposals. Institutional inertia (being passive, inactive) can often provide a barrier for scientists themselves within their organizations but this is not insurmountable.

A lack of reciprocity can be a major barrier and can cause long-term mistrust. This occurs when scientists engage with indigenous groups but end up extracting the information required and moving on without any form of enduring reciprocity. Information and data can be used and published without permission or appropriate acknowledgement of its origin. Often this can lead to further funding for science groups, providing a monetary incentive; however, this does not extend to the indigenous groups themselves who have contributed knowledge. The development and implementation of a strategy that incorporates cross-community and cross-disciplinary collaboration that acknowledges the unique status and contribution of indigenous groups is important. This can also help prevent misinterpretation of values or their dilution to metrics, such as monetary worth (Harmsworth and Awatere, 2013).

In terms of practical engagement, the importance of relationships and trust is emphasised for a successful project (Thornton and Scheer, 2012). Scientists often note the importance of ongoing relationships between themselves and the community, “Trust and respect for each other were the most fundamental and time consuming to establish and demonstrate” (Thornton and Scheer, 2012). This level of importance in a relationship is also reflected across national and international collaborations between science groups and relationships with industry (Orecchini et al., 2012; Kraut et al., 2014). Strong robust relationships built on integrity and trust are forged by having open and honest conversations. The same needs to apply to indigenous people, working with them as a separate group and not including them as part of the “community,” because their knowledge and intrinsic and enduring relationship with their local environment is what sets them apart.

Here we highlight four key aspects to engaging with indigenous people:

When working alongside indigenous people, emphasis must be placed on the need for innovative methods to build trust and explore common ground and differences, for example, meeting at traditional meeting places to establish guiding principles, dialogue and creating a collective symbol as a metaphor for co-management (Taiepa et al., 1997). Similarly, development of frameworks based on principles, processes and concepts that are familiar with indigenous groups is important. Here we show a framework developed for engagement with New Zealand Māori that is based on the steps required to remove toxins from karaka (Corynocarpus laevigatus) kernels, which make them highly poisonous, so they can be safely eaten (Figure 1). We also show how the fundamental principles of this framework can easily be adjusted and tailored to other indigenous groups (Figure 2). In this case, the framework developed for Aboriginal people in Australia was based on the preparation of cakes from cycad (Macrozamia spp.) nuts, which, similarly to karaka, also contain toxins that need to be removed before they can be consumed (Beck, 1992).

Establishment of frameworks and agreements that involve indigenous people and clearly demonstrate respect, dialogue and negotiation at the borders of knowledge systems can enrich knowledge, research and outcomes, and also allow focus on shared goals that can be mutually beneficial. This manuscript provides a context for understanding the relationship indigenous people have with their environment, how their traditional ecological knowledge can enhance and benefit contemporary knowledge and provides tools for scientists to engage with indigenous people on forest biosecurity in a way that is culturally appropriate.

The original contributions presented in the study are included in the article, further inquiries can be directed to the corresponding author.

RK reviewed literature, compiled information including traditional knowledge, and wrote an initial report. AM developed the frameworks, provided information and narratives including traditional knowledge. BG drafted the manuscript based on the initial report. All authors contributed to the background and discussion, and have edited and read the full manuscript.

The authors declare that the research was conducted in the absence of any commercial or financial relationships that could be construed as a potential conflict of interest. The handling editor MO declared a past collaboration with one of the authors BG.

All claims expressed in this article are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of their affiliated organizations, or those of the publisher, the editors and the reviewers. Any product that may be evaluated in this article, or claim that may be made by its manufacturer, is not guaranteed or endorsed by the publisher.