When I was first invited to participate in the Climate Generation cohort attending COP 28, I was especially interested in learning more about the global impact of climate change on food systems, especially with regard to Indigenous peoples. Once I figured out the logistical challenges of navigating Expo City in Dubai, I spent much of my time at the Food & Health pavilion as well as the nearby Indigenous peoples pavilion. My hope was to augment my work in food sovereignty with a deeper, global understanding of the challenges posed by climate change. And to see the negotiating process up close as a way of clarifying my own responsibility to the health of the earth.

While I appreciated the learning experience that was provided by each session that I attended, there were a few peak experiences that helped reshape my understanding of climate change and the myriad ways in which we, as individuals, can help mitigate these changes.

COP 28 provided a global perspective through the United Nations, as well as a lens into work being done by various governmental levels, from state to city to organization. Since my return home, I’ve been thinking about how I can help translate my understanding of this multi-level, international movement into individual and community based action, especially when there is already widespread fear and paralysis about the future.

One of the experiences that offered pragmatic, useful insight into the negotiating process was an informal conversation our group had with Abby’s sister, who was a climate negotiator for the US. She helped clarify the seemingly overwhelming challenge of achieving consensus among 196 countries with different cultures and very different needs. Within that context, and despite all the politics, I could see the value of this process as it allowed for countries to advocate and educate about their particular climate challenges. Given the political reality of countries failing to achieve their NDCs or even slow down fossil fuel consumption, it also seems unlikely that the United Nations will find the political will to move fast enough to achieve the 1.5 degree goal, and to do it in a just and equitable manner with regard to developing and Indigenous countries. So how can other levels of government, other sectors, artists, farmers, teachers, youth, elders, all contribute to making changes that don’t wait for the UN to fix this for us?

How do I translate the goals of phasing out fossil fuels, empowering Indigenous communities to lead, and limiting warming to 1.5 degrees into my own life?

When I attended the session promoting Minnesota as a model that was hosted by the America Is All In pavilion, it was highly gratifying to learn more about Minnesota’s commitment to a goal of 100% renewable energy sourced electricity by 2040. But the panel was mostly white and completely ignored both the needs and contributions of Indigenous and people of color in Minnesota. Especially disturbing was the statistic quoted in opening remarks that the Midwest would rank 5^th in the world for emissions, bypassing many countries, only to have the role of agriculture not mentioned at all. When I asked how much of Minnesota’s emissions are the result of agriculture and what is being done to hold that sector accountable, the panelist from Fresh Energy reassured me that she was on the governor’s advisory panel. Somehow, that didn’t answer my question. Another interesting statistic from that session: one acre of solar panels will generate 18x the amount of energy produced by an acre of corn to be used as ethanol.

One of COP’s great highlights for me turned out to be Soil day at the Food pavilion, with an entire day of programming dedicated to the topic of Soil. I listened to the recordings for most of the sessions, feeling somewhat obsessive in learning as much as I could about the connection between Soil, Nature and People (the overall theme for the day). There was a strong call for Soil to be included in the global stocktake as it was increasingly important to monitor the capacity for countries to maintain stable, healthy food systems. Soil stores 3x more carbon than the atmosphere and healthy soil has the ability to sequester 15 billion tons of carbon, which means that soil plays an important role in the climate crisis.

I also learned that half of the world’s land could be unusable within decades and that we can only achieve a sustainable food system by improving soil health. Soil health unites all food producers because it offers the means to deal with the growing food crisis as well as the ongoing biodiversity crisis. Most importantly, a transition to regenerative agriculture practices that maintain healthy soil, healthy crops, and healthy animals has the potential to help produce 40% more food by 2050 with zero emissions. Now that’s an inspiring goal!

By the end of the week, my head was packed full of ideas, statistics, perspectives, fears, hopes, and new insights. On my last day at COP, I decided to take a break and finally visit the Green Zone. That’s when I wandered into a series of small moments and experiences that would help me redefine and clarify my relationship to healing and protecting the health of the earth and responding to the challenges posed by climate change.

Almost immediately, I was drawn to a large wire and paper sculpture of a massive bee swarm, a piece that promoted Beethechange, an international organization that is supporting bees and pollinators. I was invited to make an origami bee that I could attach to the tail section of the sculpture. The first step was to write a climate intention on the small paper. I wrote, “I will take care of my relatives,” as providing habitat for all pollinators, and especially native bees, is the primary focus of my gardens. Shifting from a week of long meetings to hands-on artmaking was a reminder of the immense power of art to tell this story by emphasizing what we cherish, rather than always trying to motivate people with statistics and reports that can fuel fear and anxiety. This was the core belief I carried with me to COP, that we are strongest when we are protecting what we love.

From there I went in search of the Expo City urban farm that I had been hearing about. On a landscape formed primarily from sand and heat, the garden was impressive, with row upon row of healthy, vibrant vegetables, from kale and tomatoes to corn. Sensing my interest, the farmer came over and we bonded by strolling the rows and appreciating each plant. We talked about the biofertilizer he used that was produced from chicken manure at the farm’s primary location, an hour from Dubai. I asked why he mounded his rows, because I had seen a waffle method used in the arid climate of Arizona to retain water. He explained that the irrigation system along each plant stem could water roots more easily when they were raised. Along our walk, he told me that he was originally a wheat farmer from Syria, had lost everything in the war, and was starting over as a farmer in Dubai. When we passed the hydroponics building, he shrugged and said, it’s only good for growing leaves. What he really meant was that you can’t grow wheat in hydroponics. He added, even if we go to the moon, we need to build soil. And that formed the second small epiphany of my day, that I want to focus on soil as one of the relatives that I care for by improving the health of the soil in my garden. There’s no better way to learn than by getting your hands dirty. By building soil in my own garden, I can extend that understanding to Minnesota’s agricultural issues (5^th in emissions!), building food sovereignty on reservations, and to the challenges facing small farmers globally.

I also wanted to connect one last time with the Indigenous Peoples pavilion so I attended a presentation by NDN about their work to establish LandBack as an international movement. Four incredibly smart, passionate, and dedicated Indigenous women spoke eloquently about the critical importance of reclaiming Indigenous land as the keeper and foundation for place-based Indigenous knowledge. One of them, an NDN grantee, spoke about the seed sovereignty work she was engaged in back on her Haudenosaunee reservation. I approached her afterwards to thank her for speaking on behalf of the seeds. As we talked, she told me that her mentor, Terry Lynn Brant, had just passed a few days earlier. I was shocked by the news as I had worked with Terry Lynn and was indebted to her for the seed knowledge she had shared with me. It was such a poignant reminder that we only have so much time on this earth to do our work. Terry Lynn will be remembered as a generous and brilliant, traditional leader.

At the end of the afternoon, my last official stop was the press conference for the Rights of Plants, hosted by WECAN. The Rights of Nature Movement offers a systemic framework for defending biodiversity, communities, and our climate. This growing movement challenges the dominant society perception of nature as a resource to be owned and exploited. Supporters feel that legal protections for Nature, similar to human rights, will persuade humanity to take care of their relatives, recognizing that we are all interconnected. To me, this is a fundamental expression of Indigenous thought, or as the Dakota say, Mitakuye Owasin, we are all related. This is why Indigenous people need to be at the forefront of the climate change movement, leading the way with traditional ecological knowledge.

And finally, as I continue to think about the ways in which I can weave these various threads of change more deeply into my life–bees, soil health, seed sovereignty and LandBack, and the Rights of Plants—I am also grateful for the open-ended process and creative space provided by Climate Generation.

By not imposing burdensome or rigid expectations, they allowed room for exploration and learning, allowing us to move within a creative process.

The deadlines we did have provided structure for reflection, which was also appreciated, given the overwhelming nature of the experience. I felt respected as an artist and given the room I needed to forge my own relationship to climate change and COP 28. This experience will continue to ripple through my writing, my garden, and my community. Pidamaye ye!

Diane Wilson is a Dakota writer, educator, and bog steward, who has published four award-winning books as well as numerous essays. Her novel, The Seed Keeper, received the 2022 Minnesota Book Award for Fiction, and her memoir, Spirit Car: Journey to a Dakota Past, won a 2006 Minnesota Book Award and was selected for the 2012 One Minneapolis One Read program. She has also published a nonfiction book, Beloved Child: A Dakota Way of Life, a middle-grade biography, Ella Cara Deloria: Dakota Language Protector, and co-authored a picture book—Where We Come From. Wilson is a Mdewakanton descendent, enrolled on the Rosebud Reservation. She is the former Executive Director for Dream of Wild Health, an Indigenous non-profit farm, and the Native American Food Sovereignty Alliance, a national coalition of tribes and organizations working to create sovereign food systems for Native people.

Diane is a Climate Generation Window Into COP delegate for COP28. To learn more, we encourage you to meet the full delegation and subscribe to the Window Into COP digest.

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FOOD FOR THOUGHT