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Indigenous Films & Eco-Activism

Part literature review and part photo essay, this project dives into the DIY subculture of Grassroots Indigenous environmental activism and filmmaking.

Introduction

When I was little, there was nothing I looked forward to more than watching Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter (1997-2007), hold wildlife for the camera and describe their characteristics and role in the environment. Though I was too young to recognize it, his mission was to educate people about wildlife and wild areas to promote conservation. He was undoubtedly a role model for me and my earliest experience with environmental activism.

In the early 2000s, themes regarding the environment became more common in mainstream media. Children’s films began introducing concepts like climate change, as seen in the likes of Happy Feet (2006) and Wall-E (2008). At the same time, hugely successful documentaries like An Inconvenient Truth (2006) and Food, Inc. (2008) frankly revealed the corporate and consumer systems that pose threats to the livelihood of ourselves and our environment. In a broad sense, all of these films challenged viewers to think critically about the direction we have been headed and the possible consequences. Additionally, each of these films leave the viewer with an impassioned sense that something must change and, ultimately, a feeling of responsibility to participate in that change.

For me, the imprint of these early experiences of environmental activism have shaped my view of the world and inspired the work I do (and aspire to). As an adult, I still look to visual media for information on current and historical events or issues. However, I am now much more interested in what is created at the community level. Through the rise of social media and other public channels, the publicity and accessibility of small-scale or DIY videos is greater than ever. For example, I recall the short-form videos filmed by protestors of the Dakota Access Pipeline in 2016 that made waves. The videos would flicker between Stand Rock Sioux tribe members explaining what it means to be a Water Protector, then to plumes of tear-gas and the ricochet of rubber bullets. These were incredibly powerful visual displays of their message and the violations against them. So much so, that the clips stirred thousands of natives and non-natives to travel to Standing Rock to be in solidarity as they protected not only the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers, but each other.

In the last few decades, the form of grassroots activism seen at Standing Rock is just one of dozens led by Native North Americans who seek to protect people and resources. As I have engaged with visual media created by these groups, I have found a great appreciation for their messaging and work. As a viewer, I feel increasingly responsible to engage and challenge the current systems which cause such socio-environmental maladies. Therefore, I seek to understand how Indigenous grassroots films engage in activism with environmental issues, and to trace any measurable impacts or influence it has on changing outcomes within those environmental spheres.

To answer this question will require a review of relevant literature. In this review, I will briefly outline the history and means of film advocacy with a focus on indigenous productions. Then, I will present a case study of an indigenous film with a focus on environmental issues. Finally, I will assess the measurable, where possible, outcomes of these productions. My synthesis will draw from the following sources which either broadly discuss eco-activist cinema or specifically about the indigenous subculture therein. The book, Reservation Reelism: Redfacing, Visual Sovereignty, and Representations of Native Americans in Film, by author Michelle Raheja who is seen as an authority within the cinematic discourse of Native Cultures. James Newton, Anarchist Cinema, his chapter on “Anarchism, Activism, and the Cinema Space” which broadly discusses activist film origins and impacts. A Third Way: Decolonizing the Laws of Indigenous Cultural Protection, by Hillary Hoffman and Monte Mills, (chapter 5) which covers the history of legal fights over Badger-Two Medicine. Finally, a film example, Backbone of the World (1998) by George Burdeau, and accompanying supporting documents.

What is Indigenous Film Activism

We must first look at the origins of film activism and the processes and means that shape Indigenous film in this context. “Video activist groups,” as described in Anarchist Cinema, are those who use film as a medium for educating and as a form of political action which exposes bad practice and documents its protests or other direct activism (Newton 8). Newton contends that activist filmmaking emerged from politicized film studies in the late 60’s as a desire to utilize and transform film as a space for pedagogy, community engagement, and challenging mass media narratives (Newton 3).

Similarly, Michelle Rahaje identifies this era as perhaps the earliest use of visual sovereignty by Indigenous filmmakers. Visual sovereignty is a term she coined which synthesizes similar motivations as Newton discusses as it relates to Natives. Specifically, she describes it as a process “wherein Indigenous filmmakers and actors revisit, … critique, and reconfigure ethnographic film conventions, while at the same time operating within and stretching the boundaries created by these conventions” (Raheja 194). Its use provides a framework for them to critically engage, and advocate for, Native issues - social or environmental - in culturally and intellectually significant ways (Rahaje 194). In this way, it permits the flow of subjugated knowledge about such key issues as land rights, language acquisition, and preservation, which bring attention to local and international struggles (Rahaje 196).

Rahaje further describes the way in which indigenous folks reclaim and leverage misconstrued identities, which she refers to as “ghosts”. One such example, which I will later discuss in more detail, is the use of the historical telling of the Snake Man in Backbone of the World (1998), where it serves to reclaim the ethnographic idea of the “native medicine man” and is reutilized to properly establish a more appropriate understanding of Blackfeet culture and beliefs, both historically and present.

Combining these understandings of media and its production and influence, we can discern that powerful, intentional action is taking place on these screens. When it comes to indigenous creators, they intend to reframe their identity and voice their knowledge and opinions in a constructive way. While the authors mention some films regarding environmental advocacy, they provide little framework in the way of distinguishing it from other forms of film activism. From this literature, it is unclear whether there are any methodologies or origins that make eco-cinema distinct. There are, however, certainly a large number of videos that focus on environmental concerns. In an attempt to see how these features map onto eco-cinema, we’ll look at one key example of indigenous grassroots film activism.

The Badger-Two Medicine

Hoffman and Mills chronicle the history of the Badger-Two Medicine area in their book, A Third Way. The nearly 130,000 acres, which lies between federally managed wilderness areas and Glacier National Park, is home to some of the last, untouched stands of alpine wilderness and ecological diversity (Hoffman and Mills 57). Uniquely situated as the headwaters for much of the Western United States and home of the Blackfeet Nation for time immemorial. To the Blackfoot Confederacy, this land is called Mistakis, or “Backbone of the World”, and is culturally and religiously significant as they depend on it for resources, ceremony, and their livelihood (Hoffman et al. 59). By the end of the nineteenth century, the Tribe was forced to sell Mistakis to the federal government to avoid starvation and since has been managed by the US Forest Service (USFS) and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) (Hoffman et al. 58-59). From here, the history turns to one of legal strife and responsive advocacy in defending this crucial place to the Blackfoot Nation.

Hoffman goes on to chronicle the governmental actions, lawsuits, and contextual information surrounding the Badger-Two which I will not be summarizing here. However, there are key points that can be drawn from the text to contextualize the film we’ll look at next. First, in 1980 the boom for oil brought great incentive for the US Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management to lease this land for mining. However, this desire to mine went unchecked as there is a systemic failure of governmental acts like NEPA to effectively offer any just protection of the tribes and their land - simply are required to “identify and consider the potential environmental impacts” (Hoffman et al. 60). Ultimately, these agencies decided to advance their leasing plans despite Blackfoot desires not to, and the social and environmental impact studies demonstrating the potential for negative outcomes.

Within the greater body of Blackfoot activism for reclaiming the Mistakis is a community documentary. It was produced by George Bordeau, one notable filmmaker within indigenous cinema and documentary sphere, who throughout his career has directed and produced dozens of pieces with increasing support and recognition. While his current status is no longer that of a small-scale director, I found his film, The Backbone of the World (1998), embodies several DIY practices within the Native eco-cinema realm. With the participation of community members at every stage, from filming to testifying, the film centers Blackfoot narratives and grassroots activism. It features narratives from community members in a variety of positions and perspectives unified in conversation about the fight to end the mining.

Quotes like the following from resident Joe Kipp implore viewers to see how significant the battle over Mistakis was; “If those sacred places are lost, then it will be a complete genocide. We will not exist as a Blackfeet nation anymore” (Backbone of the World 27:25). Another shares his perspective as a Property Specialist with the Bureau of Indian Affairs; “that’s our mineral estate and we should be the ones to decide who drills and who doesn’t” (Backbone of the World 35:05). Yet another says, “the amount of oil they could get out of it would only support the US economy for half a day - and to me, that’s so ridiculous” (Backbone of the World 35:35). Particularly in the last two examples, there’s a sense of credibility and relatable rationale to their statements.As a viewer, I came to appreciate the arguments that the Blackfeet presented in the film.

These quotes from Blackfeet community members are incredibly powerful to hear because they challenge the viewer to see their perspective in a way that is relatable. Through films such as this, the ability to communicate with someone you may not otherwise, and in a way that provides space to digest, likely has the power to change mindsets and beliefs.

Much like how Newton describes video activist groups, the film embodies advocates through pedagogy and community engagement. As Newton pointed out, video activist groups are exposing corporate or government bad practice as an act of activism. As such, they are using the medium as a form of action. Likewise, they use it as a means to document other direct forms of action like the clips of picket protestors early in the film. Similarly, we see the use of Rahaje’s visual sovereignty within the film through the flow of indigenous knowledge regarding land use and preservation in an effort to advocate for Native issues.

Measuring Outcomes

Backbone of the World (1998) is now one small piece in the history of activism in the Badger Two Medicine area. Following nearly 40 years of activism to protect the Badger-Two Medicine mountain front it has culminated in the end to the mining and new legislation. In September 2023, the final lease for oil and gas extraction came to an end (Todd). This success for the Blackfoot Tribe and the preservation of the ecosystem came at no small effort. While it is difficult to measure its direct impact, George Burdeau’s 1998 film certainly played a role in this history of self-advocacy and battle for Badger-Two Medicine for the Blackfoot Tribe. Regardless, the culmination of years of activism through many social and legal channels has allowed for the creation of The Badger-Two Medicine Protection Act of 2020 (Todd). This win came after several failed attempts, with the first Protection Act being proposed in 1993 (Hoffman et al. 59).

Within the literature, there is a gap in assessing the value these films played in the final outcomes. For example, Hoffman et al. spends no time discussing Burdeau’s film or other forms of community activism, instead focusing on legal channels the Blackfeet and their supporters moved through to make an impact. They conclude, “the Blackfeet had to reframe their own interests in order to fit the avenues available for legal challenge.” (Hoffman et al. 69). Is it purely through legal means that Native productions have any hope of overcoming their environmental challenges? Additionally, I wonder if there was a relationship between viewership of Burdeau’s film, in tandem with witnessing in-person protests, that influenced broader public opinion in Montana. If so, perhaps voters outside the Tribe chose to elect officials who would bring meaningful change to the battle for Badger-Two. What role, then, does viewership play in effecting change?

To explore the impact of viewership, we’ll briefly consider an example of Native film production organizations. One such organization, called Vision Maker Media, funds and promotes indigenous film projects and has been since the late 70’s. In 2023 alone, they had 34 active film contracts with PBS (Vision Maker Media). Their collection includes titles like Crying Earth Rise Up, which follows a mother, Elisha Yellow Thunder, as she investigates the uranium from a nearby mine that caused significant harm to her daughter during pregnancy. In her producer’s notes, Suree Towfighnia details that the aim of the film was to educate on the impending need to preserve our water, and she concludes “we hope our characters inspire audiences to recognize that each of us can make a difference” (Towfighnia 2). This ties back to Rahaje’s idea of visual sovereignty, and demonstrates Towfighnia’s belief that individuals in a DIY space can have a large impact. Again, we see the use of pedagogy and community perspectives to draw attention to critical issues. Further, we can assume that the work of this producer and Vision Maker Media as a whole believes they can have a positive impact on Native issues within and outside of their communities.

While some may see the number of this media outlet’s film contracts as a success, Rahaje critiques that Native publications on services like PBS severely impairs the ability for the film to reach a broad audience (149). In the same way, Newton argues that, in large part, the independent doesn’t disrupt the “cinematic status quo” because it occurs on the “fringes of cinematic culture” through its production and consumption in non-mainstream channels (2-3).

From these critiques, I wonder if the viewership of Native film is driven primarily by those who already seek to engage with the independent or public domains. Further, if there is a failure for these films to reach mainstream channels besides PBS, it must follow that their potential impact is diminished. In this way, it seems that the bubble of independent production confines these important initiatives to a comparatively small audience. The next logical question is: what can independent producers do to attract higher viewership, and therefore positive change in the issue?. On the other hand, is it enough for some initiatives to only be seen on local, public channels to have an impact?

While PBS films could hardly be described as viral, Newton discusses the impact of short-form films through social media that have reached large audiences. One such example, the sum of bystander clips of black men being shot in the US in the years leading up to the Black Lives Matter Movement (Newton 8). Unlike the intentionally curated activist media discussed so far, such homemade short-form videos can also lead to social change. Though they were not intended for consumption in the same way as Newton described of activist film projects, the release of “unruly” footage was in fact a form of activism which led to holding perpetrators accountable (Newton 8). While I won’t be providing literature on BLM, it is well-known that these shorts, particularly of George Floyd, led to mass protests and some policy reforms.

Rahaje’s book doesn’t address these recent evolutions of short-form film. Her book, published in 2011, was written prior to the social media boom that drove engagement with causes like the Dakota Access Pipeline or Black Lives Matter. I wonder how her definitions of visual sovereignty or virtual reservation may change if she were to write about these today. Would she agree with Newton that these short-forms were still a meaningful form of activism or practice of visual sovereignty? Perhaps, there is a need within the literature to assess how video engagement has evolved in the last decade. Further, there is little to no research, or evidence, about any measurable impacts from social and environmental advocacy films.

Conclusion and Presentation

There is a tremendous amount of indigenous films and environmental advocacy that have not yet been explored in this way. In this review, I sought to understand how Indigenous grassroots films engage with this activism and looked for any measurable impacts they had on environmental outcomes. Through texts from Michelle Rahaje and James Newton, I found an incomplete framework for how Indigenous films exist as acts of environmental advocacy. Research about the Badger-Two Medicine and George Burdeau’s film (and others) provide evidence for what that framework looks like in practice. Thus, I have fairly well established the ways in which the literature draws connections between indigenous film and environmental advocacy. However, there is a deep lack of literature which attempts to trace or measure impacts that these forms of activism have on real outcomes.

The sources disagree on whether indigenous productions can make a difference, though producers like Vision Maker Media continue to strive to do so. Likewise, Hoffman and Mills seem to support the idea that it is only through sacrificing some level of sovereignty by reducing Native arguments to legally feasible ones can any change be made. Ultimately, the literature has come up short to support the idea that change can be made from eco-cinema films alone. As a viewer, I have lived experience for the way films can alter my perception and political, social, and environmental views. Thus, I’d argue that there needs to be a more effective development of research and literature in the Native ecocinema space.