Of course, no one asked what we thought of the item below, but we have some concerns about any relationship between or among Indigenous Knowledge and Artificial Intelligence [AI]. Each seems like it could be the antithesis of the other. We'll see if we can find any outcomes from the gatherings that help allay our concerns. Our thinking is foundering on the sandbars of the potential for cultural appropriation as traditional knowledge may be combined with AI. Then again, efforts such as the Ojibwe People's Dictionary are at least a small step toward blending indigenous and digital. Using AI to help capture languages before remaining elders all are gone might be a beneficial use of the technology. We're mindful of Robin Kimmerer's concerns about learning her native language.
Cambridge MA Oct 29, 2020 – Ten Indigenous media scholars and artists are headed to Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) — virtually — next month for the inaugural Indigenous Digital Delegation at MIT. In a week-long series of gatherings, the delegation will share their current media and research works-in-progress with over 50 MIT scientists, staff, fellows and students. The theme of the gathering is Indigenous Knowledge, Artificial Intelligence and Digital Worlds.
Indigenous art gallery in Minneapolis
Photo by J. Harrington
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Do you suppose it's coincidental that the activities at MIT will begin tomorrow, election day for US and will conclude about the time our votes are all counted [we hope]? Remember, much of the US constitution has been reported to be based on or derived from the Constitution of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. And, again, it must be just a coincidence that the MIT gatherings and the US election are each occurring during National Native American Heritage month. Then again, there are many who claim "there's no such thing as coincidence." Meanwhile, there's nothing artificial about the indigenous intelligence in Linda Hogan's poem on
The History of Red
By Linda Hogan
Firstthere was some other order of thingsnever spokenbut in dreams of darkest creation.Then there was black earth,lake, the face of light on water.Then the thick forest all aroundthat light,and then the human claywhose blood we still carryrose up in uswho remember caves with red bisonpainted in their own blood,after their kind.A wildnessswam inside our mothers,desire through closed eyes,a new childwearing the red, wet mask of birth,delivered into this landalready wounded,stolen and burnedbeyond reckoning.Red is this yielding landturned inside outby a country of hunterswith iron, flint and fire.Red is the fearthat turns a knife backagainst men, holds it at their throats,and they cannot see the claw on the handle,the animal handthat haunts themfrom some place inside their blood.So that is hunting, birth,and one kind of death.Then there was medicine, the healing of wounds.Red was the infinite fruitof stolen bodies.The doctors wanted to knowwhat invented diseasehow wounds healedfrom inside themselveshow life stands up in skin,if not by magic.They divined the red shadows of leechesthat swam in white bowls of water:they believed starsin the cup of sky.They cut the wall of skinto letwhat was bad escapebut they were reading the story of firegone outand that was a science.As for the animal hand on death’s knife,knives have as many sidesas the red father of warwho signs his namein the blood of other men.And red was the soldierwho crawledthrough a ditchof human blood in order to live.It was the canal of his deliverance.It is his son who lives near me.Red is the thunder in our earswhen we meet.Love, like creation,is some other order of things.Red is the share of fireI have stolenfrom root, hoof, fallen fruit.And this was hunger.Red is the human houseI come back to at nightswimming inside the cave of skinthat remembers bison.In that round nationof bloodwe are all burning,red, inseparable firesthe living have crawledand climbed throughin order to liveso nothing will be leftfor death at the end.This life in the fire, I love it.I want it,this life.
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