A trowel (/ˈtraʊ.əl/), in the hands of an archaeologist, is like a trusty sidekick — a tiny, yet mighty, instrument that uncovers ancient secrets, one well-placed scoop at a time. It’s the Sherlock Holmes of the excavation site, revealing clues about the past with every delicate swipe.
I still remember the night Typhoon Rosing (international name: Typhoon Angela) hit Bicol in 1995. My dad and I stayed home, thinking we could ride it out like past storms. But this one was different. The wind roared, shaking the walls, and, by midnight, a storm surge from San Miguel Bay swallowed the streets, rising past seven feet. Our house swayed with the waves, and, for the first time, I felt real fear — that this was it.
That night stayed with me, not just because of the storm’s power, but because of how our community faced it. People applied knowledge passed down for generations, knowing where to seek shelter, when to evacuate, and how to rebuild. It was generational memory in action, a combination of strategy, experience, and expertise that allowed us to rise up after devastation.
The increasing intensity and frequency of extreme weather events, along with their expanding impact, have made climate adaptation more urgent than ever. However, responses have largely centered on large-scale engineering solutions and policies developed far from the realities of climate-vulnerable communities. While infrastructure plays a role, indigenous and local knowledge, rooted in deep environmental understanding, is often treated as an afterthought rather than a core pillar of climate action. That needs to change.
Climate change is already reshaping landscapes and communities, demanding urgent and effective adaptation strategies. Typhoons are intensifying, sea levels are rising, and extreme weather events are becoming more frequent. In Southeast Asia, where climate vulnerability is high, adaptation is essential. However, discussions remain focused on technology and top-down policies, often overlooking the knowledge of those who have lived with these environmental challenges for generations. Without integrating multiple knowledge systems, adaptation efforts risk being incomplete or ineffective.
The upcoming Collaborative and Integrative Climate Research in Southeast Asia workshop in Naga City, taking place March 1-3, offers an opportunity to rethink climate resilience. A key focus of the workshop is recognizing indigenous and local knowledge as fundamental expertise, not just a supplementary input, in shaping climate adaptation strategies. Bringing together researchers, policy makers, and local communities, the workshop will explore ways to integrate indigenous knowledge with scientific approaches to ensure that climate adaptation efforts are both effective and culturally relevant.
Naga City holds personal significance to me. I spent my high school years there and witnessed firsthand the community’s strength in the face of disaster. When Typhoon Kristine hit in 2024, the devastation underscored the urgency of tackling climate challenges head-on. Naga’s experience highlights why we must approach climate change from multiple angles, incorporating climate science, environmental history, indigenous and local knowledges, and disaster risk reduction. It is a place where the effects of climate change are immediate and demand action.
The knowledge we ignore
The problem is not just that indigenous and local knowledge is ignored. It is often treated as secondary, a cultural curiosity rather than a legitimate system of expertise. But indigenous and local knowledge is science. It is based on systematic observation, trial and error, and accumulated experience over generations. It may not always be written in scientific journals, but it is no less empirical.
For centuries, indigenous and local communities across Southeast Asia have managed their landscapes in ways that prioritize sustainability and endurance. Many of these practices — from agroforestry systems to water management strategies — are based on intimate knowledge of local environments. Yet, rather than being valued, these systems have often been dismissed as “traditional” or outdated, sidelined in favor of Western scientific approaches.
Some indigenous knowledge systems offer direct solutions to climate-related challenges, demonstrating sustainable ways to mitigate environmental risks. For example, in the Philippines, coastal communities have long relied on mangrove forests as natural storm buffers, reducing wave energy and preventing erosion. Despite their effectiveness, mangroves are increasingly cleared for shrimp farms and urban development. Meanwhile, governments continue to invest in costly infrastructure, such as seawalls, which may not provide the same long-term protection as mangrove conservation. Protecting and restoring these natural barriers could be a more effective and sustainable strategy for coastal resilience.
Beyond direct solutions, indigenous knowledge also offers lessons that can inform climate adaptation strategies. The Ivatan’s traditional vahay, built with thick limestone walls and cogon grass roofs, are designed to withstand typhoons and extreme weather conditions. These structures demonstrate how traditional architecture can be adapted to modern climate challenges, offering insights for designing more resilient housing in typhoon-prone areas.
Similarly, in Abra, the practice of Lapat-An, a community-managed resource utilization system, has helped local communities maintain environmental balance and reduce disaster risks. These practices reflect long-standing environmental stewardship that, if integrated into climate policies, could strengthen adaptation efforts across different regions.
Fire management is another area where indigenous knowledge has been overlooked, with significant consequences. Lessons can be drawn from the Mangyan (Mindoro) who have controlled burning to maintain swidden farming (kaingin) in a way that minimizes environmental damage. Rather than the destructive, indiscriminate burning often blamed for deforestation, traditional kaingin follows strict cycles and techniques that allow forests to regenerate. However, blanket bans on all forms of kaingin have failed to distinguish between sustainable indigenous practices and large-scale commercial deforestation. This policy oversight has not only disrupted indigenous livelihoods but also ignored a system that could contribute to fire prevention and landscape management.
To effectively address climate adaptation, we must move beyond merely acknowledging indigenous knowledge and actively integrate it into policy and practice. First, indigenous communities should be central in decision-making, not as passive recipients but as active participants shaping policies affecting their lands and livelihoods. Governments should include indigenous leaders and knowledge holders in advisory roles. Second, an interdisciplinary approach is vital — combining climate science with indigenous knowledge from fields like archaeology, anthropology, and environmental science to create comprehensive solutions.
Additionally, we must reclaim historical narratives that have marginalized indigenous science, recognizing it as equally rigorous as Western science, just following different methodologies. Finally, education and public engagement are crucial. Schools should teach how indigenous communities have long managed their environments, while media and public institutions should celebrate these contributions, moving away from outdated portrayals of Indigenous peoples as relics and instead recognizing them as active, knowledgeable participants in climate resilience.
Mainstreaming indigenous knowledges
The upcoming workshop in Naga City provides a critical opportunity to rethink how we approach climate resilience. A key discussion at the conference will focus on decolonizing climate research, challenging the idea that climate science is something produced in Western institutions and then applied to Southeast Asian contexts. Instead, we must recognize that indigenous knowledge holders are scientists in their own right. Their expertise is built on centuries of observation, experimentation, and adaptation, and it must be treated as a central pillar of climate solutions rather than an afterthought.
This workshop would not be possible without the support of Partido State University, whose commitment to meaningful collaboration has brought together scholars, environmental planners, and community members. I extend my deepest gratitude to president Arnel Zarcedo and vice president for research Raul Bradecina for their leadership and dedication to this initiative. I would also like to acknowledge Leih Anne Odoño, Karen Artiaga, and Earl John Hernandez for their tireless efforts in making this workshop a reality. Their support has been invaluable, and we deeply appreciate their role in advancing this critical conversation.
For those interested in joining the discussion, the workshop will also be accessible virtually. You can register to participate online at: https://ucla.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_mTn2Qt26R3y3GhfcCzV57A#/registration. We encourage researchers, students, policy makers, and anyone passionate about climate resilience to be part of this important dialogue. – Rappler.com
Stephen B. Acabado is professor of anthropology at the University of California-Los Angeles. He directs the Ifugao and Bicol Archaeological Projects, research programs that engage community stakeholders. He grew up in Tinambac, Camarines Sur. Follow him on bluesky @stephenacabado.bsky.social.