This series questions and complicates what ‘reporting from abroad’ can mean in a globalized world that faces interconnected and local crises alongside forces grappling with how to liberate our beings from oppressive structures rooted in past and present (neo)colonialism and imperialism. We can take this as a chance to collectively and constructively consider both broader and different conceptions of philosophy than those more widely studied within USA institutions and culture—and the conditions that shape such studies around the globe by APA-related thinkers. We can learn how local institutions and global contexts shape the possibilities of research, speech, and our visions of philosophy.
Getty Lee Lustila is an Assistant Teaching Professor of Philosophy in the Department of Philosophy and Religion at Northeastern University. He received his PhD in Philosophy from Boston University in 2019 and was trained as a specialist in 18th-century European philosophy, with a particular focus on 18th-century British and French moral thought. Most of Getty’s research in this area has focused on the work of underrepresented figures alongside interests in Indigenous philosophy, especially those from the Americas: from Indigenous pedagogical methods to Indigenous models of agency (particularly with the Southeastern tribes) to debates about the nature and aim of Indigenous environmental justice. Getty is an enrolled citizen of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma.
How did you come to your research?
Given my specialization, my interest and research in Native American and Indigenous Philosophy might seem odd. Well, as the audience likely knows, there are very few places to study Indigenous thought at the graduate level while in a philosophy department. Of course, there is a deep—at least 40 years old—tradition of Native Studies departments that tend to be interdisciplinary, drawing on tools from all over the humanities and social sciences. While there is much to learn there, many people from the world of Native Studies dismiss or antagonize philosophy—and not without reason. At many points in history, philosophy—in the ‘western’ sense of the term—has been a weapon of colonialism, racism, sexism, etc. I believe that philosophy can also give us the resources to counter these evils. There are few places where one can study Native American and Indigenous thought in both a serious manner and a philosophy department. I decided to use the tools available around me in graduate school to do good, useful work.
Good, useful work meant finding ways to be disruptive; I turned to write on underrepresented figures in the 18th century. I initially found this exciting—still do in many ways—yet I quickly saw that I would soon run aground. In the back of my mind, I had this nagging feeling that I was running away from myself. I had access to a rich history of thought concerning my background that I refused to draw upon just because I did not get along with a portion of my family. After a while, this obstacle appeared silly to me. I had to get serious: when I secured a permanent position, I would pivot toward Native American and Indigenous philosophy, a move that would lead me back to myself. And so, I’ve been reconnecting with myself. It’s been nice, if lonely.
Who is your audience?
I suppose my intended audience is two-fold. My primary audience is my students. I recently proposed a course on Indigenous philosophy, the first of its kind to be taught at Northeastern University, and one of only a handful of similar courses available in the United States. The course will focus primarily on the context of North and South America and will be offered beginning in the 2023-2024 academic year. I plan to teach it on a yearly basis. I hope not only to educate students on the history and thought of Indigenous peoples in the Americas—of which many students are ignorant, by no fault of their own—but also to inform them about contemporary struggles faced by Indigenous populations with regards to cultural and linguistic revitalization, the disruption of traditional food systems, and targeted attacks on sovereignty, to name a few. What I find exciting is that students, despite their ignorance and associated shame, are very interested to learn more. I have found that when they encounter these topics in one of my other classes, like environmental ethics, we often have our best discussions of the semester. In this way, I see that there’s real opportunity for progress with young people. Perhaps I’m unduly optimistic but I’d rather be that way—at least for now—than give way to cynicism.
My second audience is my colleagues in philosophy. I am finding that philosophers are increasingly receptive to non-‘western’ philosophical traditions. Still, few of them have been exposed to, yet alone are aware of, Indigenous philosophy. I see my role as an ambassador; I want to ensure that Indigenous views and voices are represented in our conversations and in the philosophy curriculum.
How has it changed the way you think about philosophy?
I always had the sneaking suspicion that the way philosophy is largely done in the contemporary Anglo mode—8,000-10,000-word argumentative essays on increasingly narrow subjects—was not the only way to do philosophy. My suspicion was confirmed when I began to study 17th-18th century European philosophy and encountered people doing philosophy through a variety of media, whether soliloquy, poetry, letter-writing, etc. This was an exciting realization because it freed up my ideas regarding what counted as a piece of philosophical writing. Through this process, I came to see Indigenous traditions in a new light. While I had always seen these traditions as providing us with important literary resources for thinking about the fundamental questions of human life, I hadn’t previously treated them as philosophy.
After that changed, nothing remained standing in the way of pursuing my interests in Indigenous thought in a philosophical context. In turn, I came to see the ‘western’ philosophical tradition in which I was trained as unduly restrictive, even on its own terms. I began to introduce different mediums of philosophical writing into my classes, from both ‘western’ and Indigenous traditions, and began to see how much more receptive my students were to our discussions about the limits of human knowledge, personal identity, agency, etc. While they would’ve formerly seen these topics as mildly interesting but hopelessly abstract, the students came to appreciate their significance and, even more importantly, to understand that they had something to say on these subjects—that philosophy was not the property of the white, elderly (or often dead) male. Philosophy was always for everyone. Unfortunately, many of us forget this was the case. The good news: many of us are beginning to remember.
Please describe any obstacles you have overcome.
Being looked at as an expert or spokesperson. I’m one of about 25 Native American individuals with a PhD in philosophy. There are very few people who have any familiarity with Native American and Indigenous philosophy and even fewer who actively research these topics. Yet, there is a good deal of interest in Native American and Indigenous philosophy—most philosophers I have met really want to know what it’s all about. Given how few of us there are, the chances of any one of us getting pulled as ‘the expert’ on Native American and Indigenous philosophy is extraordinarily high. Asking someone to speak as an expert on Spinoza’s Tractus Theologico-Politicus is altogether different than asking someone to speak on behalf of the Indigenous peoples of North and South America. Though an unenviable position to be in, one has little choice in the matter. One must be willing to say something stupid, lest nothing at all be said. In this way, learning to speak on any subject with regard to Native American and Indigenous philosophy has been my biggest obstacle to overcome, knowing I am carrying all the weight of my ancestors and those who continue to go unheard. I just remember to laugh at myself.
I couldn’t have overcome this challenge or many others like it without the support of my community. I recently joined the APA’s committee on Native American and Indigenous Philosophy and have met so many inspiring people. All these people have provided an important base for me from which I can ask hard questions, risk sounding stupid, and engage in true spiritual growth. I also must thank the Department of Philosophy and Religion at Northeastern University. They have been nothing but enthusiastically supportive of my work in the department and beyond. I had expected to receive more resistance, which probably says more about me than anything. Regardless, they’ve been wonderful.
What was it like to develop a syllabus on Indigenous Philosophy?
Incredibly difficult. I spent a long time worrying about the proper scope of my focus in the course. Should I only include traditions with which I’m personally familiar? Should I deliberately push outside my knowledge base? Should I attempt to make it as inclusive as possible? I’m not sure that I settled any of these questions in crafting the syllabus. In the end, I included mainly sources from the Americas, but added readings representative of the Hawaiian and Māori traditions. I structured the readings not around these distinct traditions but rather around a set of topics—for instance: land, persons, and gender. My aim was to put these traditions into conversations with one another about topics of mutual interest and importance. The concern was not to construct a pan-Indigenous understanding of concepts, like Land, but rather to see how these traditions have differently responded to the forces of colonialism and the onset of settler institutions and ways of relating. Each peoples has a different story to tell, the combination of which illustrates a long-standing tradition of Indigenous resistance, resilience, and resurgence. It is this latter tradition I would like the students to walk away from the course having encountered and having come to appreciate.
What’s your experience of being on the APA’s Committee on Native American and Indigenous Philosophy? Any role models?
At the risk of embarrassing her, I see Shelbi Nahwilet Meissner as my mentor in all matters related to Indigenous philosophy. I have not known Shelbi for long but our conversations have taught me about what it means to be unapologetically Indigenous in the academy. Because of her, I have been given the opportunity to explore what this means to own my Indigeneity in a philosophical context. She has been gracious with her time and endlessly supportive of my journey. Prior to meeting Shelbi—and also Joey Miller—I had felt as if this journey to finding my place as an Indigenous philosopher would be a lonely one; I now know that it will be one taken alongside friends and in community.
With regards to my role on the APA’s committee on Native American and Indigenous Philosophy, my membership is rather new, and so I have little to say on that subject. Shelbi and Joey, who serve on the committee as well, currently run a bi-weekly reading group on Indigenous pedagogy, titled PINE (Philosophy of Indigenous Education). We have met twice to date and plan to meet seven more times, concluding sometime in May 2023. This group is a preface to a workshop on Indigenous pedagogy that Shelbi and Joey are currently organizing, to be held sometime this summer. The hope is that this workshop will provide the opportunity for early-career Indigenous philosophers to discuss how to reshape our teaching in a way that more properly aligns with our values as Indigenous peoples while also doing right by our students and meeting the standards laid down by our respective institutions. My sense is that the moment has finally come where the dreams of the previous generation of Indigenous philosophers can be realized—the vast majority of people in the academy are finally ready to listen.
Message for the APA
In the past 20 years, there’s been a great deal of spurious comparative philosophy conducted by people looking to get published. At its best, this sort of work can be exciting but preys upon the underrepresented tradition in question, using this tradition to say something about the more canonical figure without paying due space and attention to the difference in historical or intellectual context. I completely understand the impulse to stoop to this level given the pressure that early-career people are under to make a name for themselves. Still, we must be on watch for the specter of colonialism, waiting in the wings.
I say this because there are so few of us currently working in Native American and Indigenous philosophy. In this way, a curious onlooker might reasonably see our subfield as uncharted territory, one in which they can easily stake their claim without having to enter into those heated philosophical battles found in more populated areas. I ask that before one decides to step into seemingly uncultivated lands one considers what one is doing and why one wishes to proceed. We cannot afford for this community to keep making the same mistakes mentioned, lest philosophy one day become a discipline that is no longer worth fighting for.