More than a Ritual: Rethinking the Purpose of the Land Acknowledgment

Rachelle Cormier is a double major in Gender & Sexuality and Philosophy with a Pre-law emphasis and was a 2025-26 Hackworth Fellow with the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics at Santa Clara University. Views are her own.

 

You are at graduation. The sun is radiant, embracing you with intense beams, heating your skin. The first speaker comets to the stage and a hush rolls over the crowd. The people’s stillness gives way for the following: “We pause to acknowledge that Santa Clara University sits on the land of the Ohlone and the Muwekma Ohline people, who trace their ancestry…We remember the connections to these regions and give thanks for the opportunity to live, work, learn, and pray on traditional homeland…” Around you, reactions ripple through the crowd. Some drift away mentally disconnecting from the words entirely. Others are visibly frustrated and shaking their heads at what they regard as a progressive history lesson; a few nod along in quiet agreement. You are left pondering what is the purpose of land acknowledgments? Or has it become the latest performance of progress, a newly ceremonial ritual fabricated into American public life? 

People leave with different conclusions. Some dismiss it as virtue signaling, others receive it as loss of property. Yet when we examine the ethics of land acknowledgements it reveals pressing questions: what is the land, and what does it truly mean to Indigenous people? In this paper, I will demonstrate the land acknowledgment offers substantial contributions to our communities. By exploring the meaning of land from an Indigenous perspective, I aim to restore land acknowledgments from their currently questionable status and point towards the path of truth and healing.

Despite land acknowledgements becoming more common in public life, a growing number of academic institutions are moving towards abandoning them altogether. These efforts did not emerge from isolation. They are driven by a broader push to eliminate diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and by the concern that recognizing one group may be perceived as favoring them over another. For instance, Ohio State University in September 2025 took measures to ban most land acknowledgements in order to comply with a new state law restricting DEI efforts. On top of this, Stanford University terminated their official land acknowledgements, a decision that became a catalyst for a student petition and faculty indignation seeking to reverse the decision.

Academic spaces are left navigating competing pressures, whether to uphold this ritual or abandon it altogether. This discourse leaves the general public uncertain about the true usefulness and purpose of land acknowledgment. 

Similarly, Indigenous communities have raised questions about the usefulness and sincerity of land acknowledgments. This skepticism is rooted in concerns about performativity, lack of sincerity, and a tone that resembles a eulogy rather than a meaningful gesture. These stipulations are further complicated by tribal status and federal recognition, both of which can significantly shape perspectives on the value of written acknowledgments. 

Tribes that are not federally recognized often view land acknowledgments as vital tools for continuing dialogue and raising awareness within the broader community. In cities and spaces far removed from Native Reservations, Native peoples’ existence is frequently overlooked, with many people reducing Indigenous people to historical figures and textual facts from the past rather than recognizing their contemporary existence. In contrast, tribes residing on reservations tend to regard land acknowledgments as a neutral gesture that is appreciated for the sentiment but unlikely to create meaningful change for their communities. 

If views differ so immensely, even within Indigenous communities, where does that leave us? To further investigate these difficult inquiries, it is essential to understand the foundations and background of land acknowledgement in order to examine the substantial tension that exists within this dialogue.

Background on Land Acknowledgments

In light of these disputes, it’s helpful to pause and consider the origins of land acknowledgments: where they came from, and how they are currently used. When we take a look closer at the historical roots of land acknowledgements, we can see that the practice predates colonization and was grounded in Indigenous custom. This custom functioned as protocol among Indigenous nations including people of the Pacific Coast, where another nation would ask permission before coming ashore, acknowledging themselves as visitors to that land (washingtontribes.org). Even Indigenous nations recognize the sacred relationships others hold with the land, and asking permission expresses humility and honors the depth of that bond. 

The formal, written land acknowledgement that we recognize today largely traces back to Australia's efforts to tackle and confront the harms of colonization. In response to the lasting impact of colonization, Australia reshaped the practice into its modern form and is widely recognized as the first country to institutionalize public land acknowledgments. 

Over time, this model inspired other nations to adopt similar practices. For reference, the Canadian government’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission promoted action to make this a common practice. Canada was motivated by combating erasure of Indigenous existence, and a drive to promote public awareness of colonial impact. This movement drove transformation, and became a stepping stone to deliberately educate Canadians citizens. 

This reform sparked change in learning and conceptualizing the experiences of Indigenous people. These adoptions were crafted to unionize and move communities together. In the United States, land acknowledgments have slowly become embraced throughout institutions but there is widespread skepticism about the practice and its utility. 

The efforts of various countries to implement land acknowledgements were driven by a desire to recognize Indigenous nations and reject the ongoing impacts of colonization. Through this integration, the practice has become a standard fixture in many institutions, forming the rudimentary foundation we see today. In its current form, a land acknowledgement consists of a written statement, usually read out loud or presented on screen to an audience. They are most often recited at the beginning of an event, and appear across a wide range of spaces including: academic institutions, conferences, public gatherings, and presentations. 

The contents vary depending on event and context, and may include historical background, cultural practices, and the ongoing hardships indigenous nations currently face. As a form, a land acknowledgment serves a combined purpose: informing the audience, fulfilling a ritual function, and sustaining broader awareness. 

Understanding motive and purpose are essential when examining impact, but we must also consider whether the impact is genuinely positive. Drawing from Suzzane Keeptwo’s We all go back to the land: The who, why, and how of land acknowledgements, this exploration is grounded in thoughtful dialogue of land acknowledgement and rich Indigenous perspectives. As a Métis author native to Canada, Keeptwo crafts an in-depth composition that delves into Indigenous practices, and the layered complexity of the land acknowledgment. She begins by articulating: 

“When Land and Territorial Acknowledgements first began to circulate, they provided powerful declarations of an Indigenous existence— past and present. For the first time, everyday Canadians were hearing about diverse cultures and attaching locations to Original inhabitants. It woke Canadians to the fact that there is Indigenous presence in this country and a prehistory of colonization. They often evoked unintentional discomfort. (Keeptwo, 84).”

KeepTwo helped to support the significant transformation of land acknowledgements made in Canada. For many Natives, the land acknowledgement was the step in the right direction, and considered progressive in moving towards recognition of indigenous people, culture, and existence. KeepTwo’s work investigates questions about performativity, tokenism, and recolonization of land acknowledgments. KeepTwo examines the significant transformation that the land acknowledges for the Indigenous communities. 

When the land acknowledgement was introduced, it felt transformative because it broke the silence surrounding colonization history and affirmed that there were inhabitants long before Europeans settlers arrived in Canada. However, Keep two also addresses the layered conversation concerning performativity, tokenization, and recolonizing the land acknowledgement. Her work reflects an emerging paradox: as non-Indigenous Canadians begin to opt out of land acknowledgements, citing redundancy, unclear purpose, and questionable effectiveness, the very practice meant to honor Indigenous people risks being undermined. As Keeptwo writes, “land acknowledgment is being stolen just like the land itself (KeepTwo, 88).” 

In the effort to foster community, the land acknowledgment has, in some ways, become the source of its own ineffectiveness. Despite the criticism, Keeptwo maintains that there remains a meaningful space for land acknowledgment. She encourages others to be thoughtful in its creation and intentional about connecting not only to historical truths but also to the lived experience of Indigenous people who continue to navigate the effects of colonization. 

The Meaning of the Land

Even though the land acknowledgement is commonly used, it is important to acknowledge that there is a disconnect with our interpretation of the meaning of land. When individuals are digesting the content of the land acknowledgment, they are often listening with their own preconceived understanding of the meaning of land as property–an understanding derived from many colonial practices. 

Regardless of the circumstances, land acknowledgements would not be effective if an audience's interpretation of land is limited to property and ownership. Currently our modern understanding of land is framed as possession. Land has become a commodity to be sold and consumed for profit. However, this relationship seems sterile compared to Indigenous perspectives of the meaning of land. Paul Guernsey's paper on “Indigenous Philosophies of Land and Their Importance for Anticolonial Camaraderie,” relays detailed explanations of various Indigenous understandings of the land. I will focus on three such understandings: Land as a Relative and Mother, Land as Person, and Land as Identity, Ethics, and Religion.

Land as a Relative and Mother

One way to understand the Indigenous perspective on land is through the conceptual lens of land as Relative and Mother. This framework positions land as not merely property but as a living relation deserving of kinship and care. Articulating the meaning of land as a relative does not imply that all parts of the land are equally significant. Rather, the relationships experienced with land are particular and shaped by specific experiences, histories, and locations. 

To put this into perspective, consider the following thought experiment. Imagine growing up in your neighborhood with a particular tree, which has become familiar over time. This tree carries the history of your experiences with it: climbing its branches, eating its fruit, perhaps hanging a swing from its limbs, or even reading beneath its shade. You do not necessarily feel connected with every tree on the planet, but rather you feel connected to that specific tree with which you share a lived history. This shared history with that tree mirrors that of a familial relationship. 

Like any meaningful relationship, this relationship requires a level of cultivation. The relationship is built gradually through accumulated interactions and encounters, and in turn, shapes and impacts your life in a direct and long-lasting way. 

The Indigenous understanding of land as Mother differs fundamentally from Western conceptions of Mother Earth. The Western understanding tends to operate as a social or cultural metaphor that has been historically entangled with patriarchal structures of power, in which the Mother is something to be dominated and her resources to be extracted. While the Western framework does acknowledge Earth as a nurturing, life-sustaining source, it falls short of deeper relational sentiment. 

The Indigenous conception, by contrast, understands Earth as a literal parent, one that is a breathing entity, alive, and interwoven, from which all life emerges and depends. It is not simply that we are connected to the Earth, but that we are of the Earth. To see the Earth as Mother, as a living relative and source of all life. This understanding carries profound ethical weight and points toward instinctive obligations of care and reciprocity. Just as one is obligated to honor and respect a family member, one must also honor and respect the land. To relate to the land is to understand the direct impact it has on life, and to recognize that this relationship, like all meaningful relationships, must be tended to, respected, and upheld. 

Land as a Person

Another way to understand the Indigenous perspective on land is through the lens of personhood. In Western thought, the category of person is largely limited to humans, and nonhuman entities are excluded from the circle. Personhood has historically been defined by strict criteria usually having to do with will, rationality, language, and self-reflection (Guernsey, 268). 

In Native understanding, however, this circle expands considerably. The category of person is not bound by the human, and personhood is not determined by rational capacity, but by the potential for relationship. Personhood, in this framework, extends to animals, plants, land, rivers, and other beings. If the capacity for relationship is what defines personhood, then a person is not bound by rationality alone, and any entity with this capacity deserves moral consideration comparable to that afforded to humans. This is captured in the foundational insight that, “Power and place produce personality (Guernsey, 268).” Power, in this sense, does not refer to dominance or control, but to the living energy that animates all things and to the force that makes something alive and present. 

Every being of the natural world carries some form of power within it, and it is this that makes the universe not a static collection of matter, but a living and dynamic whole. Place, then, is where power is expressed and experienced. It gives power to a specific context, location, and a set of relationships. Place is not abstract space, but a particular, physical reality: mountains, rivers, trees, soil. Place shapes identity: Where something exists influences what it becomes. 

When power meets place, personality emerges because the universe is filled with power expressed through particular places, and the universe itself becomes personal, populated with beings that carry identity, presence, and relational capacity. A river then is not simply water moving through land. It is a being with power, rooted in place, and therefore carrying a form of personhood. If land and the natural world hold the capacity for personhood, they must be understood as moral agents. This means that human interactions with the land are not neutral. They are fundamentally moral and ethical encounters, carrying with them the same obligations that are extended to any person deserving of respect and care. 

Land as Identity, Ethics, and Religion

Another way to understand the Indigenous perspective on land is through the lens of Identity, Ethics, and Religion. Land shapes cultural meaning and values, and in turn, shapes the emotional and bodily experience of the people who live on it. This is not a one way relationship but a mutual and reciprocal process in which land and people continuously shape one another. The land holds the culture, and the culture is expressed through the land. Equally important, emotions and physical responses to the land are not arbitrary or purely personal; they are moral. 

When one feels reverence, belonging, etc., towards a particular place, that feeling is not incidental. It is an ethical relationship between the person and is felt and expressed through the body. Emotions, in this framework, are not separate from ethics but intrinsically reciprocal, lived and experienced in a direct and embodied way. Land and emotion are indicators of the influence a place has on people; our digestion of these experiences is not incidental but fundamental to our identity and who we are. 

In Indigenous thought, people do not own the land but belong to it. This is a perspective that stands in direct contrast to the Western conception of identity, which is fueled by individualism. In this Western view, the self is not bound by other entities or the environment, but shaped by personal self-reliance, and remains largely unaffected by the place in which one lives 

When identities are built around relationships with specifically nonhuman relatives like land, animals, rivers, mountains, and trees, then the sense of identity that emerges is polycentric. It does not have a single center or point of origin. Rather, one is shaped by a web of particular, place-based connections and relationships. This directly challenges the logic of Western multiculturalism, which assumes one dominant center that generously welcomes others in. 

The Western model erases real differences in sovereignty, governance, and land rights. It is not true pluralism in the eyes of Indigenous thought: it’s assimilation dressed in inclusion. Polycentric thinking, by contrast, does not absorb difference into one center. It recognizes that there are many legitimate centers of meaning, each rooted in its own land and relationships. 

Follow me through this analogy: think of multiculturalism like a dinner table, where one family owns the house, sets the rules, and invites others to sit and eat but on their terms, in their space, by their customs. At first it appears generous and inclusive but fundamentally the power structure never changes. However, polycentric thinking, by contrast, recognizes that there are many houses, many tables, many families each with their own space, their own rules, and their own legitimate way of living: no single house is the default. 

The Land is not a Commodity

She gave life to you, taught you lessons that will never be unlearned. She understood you in the way you needed most. She was the origin of your existence and the very air you breathed. She is the land. Can you see it now? That the understanding of the land takes shape within the beholder, revealing that land can hold many configurations and meaning. 

Through the indoctrination and spread of the white settler story, we began to believe that land served a single purpose. It is easier to paint a picture that articulates a one-dimensional narrative: that land was meant to be dominated, owned, and exploited for profit. The commodification of land has been easy to digest because, for many of us, that is the only reality we have experienced. But we have been given an opportunity to glimpse into the Indigenous frameworks. 

To remove people from their land is not only a physical displacement or a loss of property; it is a disruption of the ontological framework through which they understand and navigate the world. Loss of land means loss of culture, language, community, family, and ultimately loss of life. The deep erasure persists today, and understanding its full scope can transform the way we engage with land acknowledgments because it allows us to see more clearly what has been taken.

Understanding the Indigenous perspective may seem complex at first glance, but when stripped down to its core, it is more accessible than we might assume. When it comes to land acknowledgments, the central failure is the inability to understand what the land truly means to Indigenous people. If we can first know where each of us is coming from, we can prevent the arguments that are built on misinformation from ever taking root. But the Indigenous perspective reveals that land is not something separate from us; it is a fundamental part of our existence. Without the land, we are nothing; without the land, we have nothing. The land is the source of our livelihood and the misperception of land as property has hindered connection within our communities. 

When individuals encounter a land acknowledgment while carrying this misunderstanding, it fundamentally disconnects them from what is truly being lost. As Audre Lorde has said, “without community there is no liberation,” and without understanding, there will be no liberation for any of us. We cannot fall into the trap of pretending we are all the same; that path offers only temporary relief and no lasting change. 

Many dismiss the function and the usefulness of the land acknowledgment, but that dismissal often stems from an inability to connect with the purpose it was created to serve. If we are going to continue using the land acknowledgement, we must honor and continue the goal that it was intended to achieve. 

A recent New York Times article, “Indigenous Speakers Are Booed During Commemorations of Australia’s War Dead,” captures the resistance these acknowledgments can provoke. It states,“The booing was widely condemned by political, military, and civic leaders, and it betrayed simmering tensions over the country’s identity… Right-wing groups have protested, “Welcome to Country,” acknowledgments as alienating non-Indigenous Australians by telling them that they don’t belong (2026, Victoria Kim).” 

What is often overlooked at the core of these reactions is the question of belonging: who we think should be included, and whose stories deserve to be heard. For some, the land acknowledgement feels like a declaration of settler displacement. These listeners do not hear an utterance of history and remembrance; their focal point becomes a zero-sum equation. As if acknowledging Indigenous existence means they themselves are being erased. However, acknowledging another’s harsh history is not a threat to belonging, nor a method of shaming. It’s an opportunity to reunite understanding, and bridge the gaps of misalignments that are prevalent in community discourse. 

For growth to occur, one must be motivated to seek out perspective beyond their own. Curiosity is a catalyst for change, giving us a chance to live through other’s eyes.

To understand acknowledgement in this way is to recognize it as a profound ethical statement, an act of seeing what has been made deliberately invisible. And yet, we must also ask harder questions when thinking about land acknowledgment, and it becomes important to evaluate whether they risk replicating the same oppressive behaviors they seek to challenge. Are we fulfilling the need through a colonizer’s lens, shaping an idea of what these communities need and deserve, but on our own terms? 

It is crucial to consider whether land acknowledgements, as they are commonly practiced, risk establishing a kind of control over Indigenous communities by seeing and acknowledging them on our own terms, rather than in the way they wish to be heard. When acknowledgement is shaped by the desire to ease guilt or signal moral progress, it ceases to be an act of genuine recognition and becomes instead a tool of self-service. 

These complex questions are illuminated by Bell Hooks’ work in Eating The Other. In this piece, Hook begins to address the dilemma of consuming cultural difference for pleasure, and the way that ethnicity and otherness becomes exotic and appealing within the white dominant culture: a seasoning to brighten what she describes as the dull dish of mainstream whiteness. The otherness is consumed for personal pleasure, gain, self-transformation all at the expense of the cultural group consumed, who remain marginalized and harmed in the process. 

Land acknowledgments risk falling into this same dynamic when they become a brief ritual and a moment of cultural flavoring before moving on to the next exotic ethnic thing. To devour a culture is not to honor; it is to extract it, while leaving its people no closer to liberation.

If the motivation behind a land acknowledgement is to fill the gaps of white guilt, and or to be seen as progressive and morally woke, it has already missed its purpose. When acknowledgments become brief and ritualized–naming the nation, gesturing towards connection, and moving on–they risk becoming a form of cultural flavoring. The acknowledgment could be consumed by the self-image rather than the genuine connection, and the Indigenous community being named is reduced to a symbol of someone else's ethics. The nation is spoken about rather than empowered through the process, which raises the question of who the acknowledgement is truly serving.

Even with these concerns, though, they should not be a reason to abandon the practice of a land acknowledgment. Rather, they are a signal that a more intentional and refined process is needed. We should not let the fear of getting it wrong or fear of judgement stop us from engaging altogether. Imperfection in the pursuit of understanding is far better than silence. This tension simply tells us that there is a more productive and respectful way forward, and that we must be intentional and sensitive as we navigate these complex conversations. 

The land acknowledgement has the potential to create remarkable change within our communities. An effective land acknowledgement is one rooted in genuine engagement, and one that deepens understanding of what the land means to the Indigenous, and gives a chance for this community to be seen and heard. We must ask not only whether we are acknowledging, but how, and whether we are honoring the real people and histories behind the words. If done with care and sincerity, land acknowledgment can be more than ritual. They can be the beginning of a deeper reckoning with the land, with history, and with one another. 

Bibliography

Guernsey, Paul. “Indigenous Philosophies of Land and Their Importance for Anticolonial Camaraderie.” The American Indian Quarterly, vol. 47 no. 3, 2023, p. 251-287. Project MUSE, https://dx.doi.org/10.1353/aiq.2023.a917905.

Hooks, Bell. “Eating the Other: Desire and Resistance.” Black Looks: Race and Representation, South End Press, 1992, pp. 21–39. 

Keeptwo, Suzanne. We All Go Back to the Land: The Who, Why, and How of Land Acknowledgements. Brush Education Inc, 2021. 

Kim, Victoria. Indigenous Speakers Are Booed during Commemorations of Australia’s War Dead - The New York Times, 25 Apr. 2025.  

What Are Land Acknowledgements and How Do We Make Them Meaningful? - Washington Tribes.