Chris Cuomo, Wendy Eisner and Kenneth Hinkel,
"Environmental Change, Indigenous Knowledge, and Subsistence on Alaska's North Slope"
(page 5 of 9)
"Global warming" is often mentioned as a likely cause of unusual
patterns of erosion, but it is also not at all unusual for people to
discuss concern about changes and damage to the landscape caused by oil
and natural gas exploration and drilling. A number of participants
attributed specific examples of erosion and areas of severe thermokarst
to anthropogenic activity related to drilling, seismic survey activity,
and related exploration. Some of those who have done industry or
government work on the tundra have directly witnessed or contributed to
the damage. Indicating a place on the map that has thoroughly eroded
away, Arnold Brower, Sr. relates the lasting impacts of the Distant
Early Warning (DEW) stations built in the 1950s in northern Alaska,
Canada and Greenland as a safeguard against Soviet missile attack:
This Tangent Point is no more. It washed away. Now so
many sand bars are gone . . . this building of these DEW lines [took] away
too much of the sand down from the beach . . .. I think man helped to make
this erosion work faster, let me put it that way, by removing gravel
from this general location . . .. I was a [Navy] scout, and we didn't even
know at the time what environmental protection was . . .. We were trying to
get the exploration and get started. I learned a lot by the mistakes
that we made there.
Lewis Brower expresses doubt that everything is related to "natural"
causes, and calls for more public conversation about the real issues:
Everything's happening in its own way and a lot of it is
not happening [due to] natural occurrences. A lot of it may be due to
the Prudhoe Bay system here. A lot of it may be just due to what maybe
all what we do over here . . .. Drilling and seismic is done over here and . . .
immediately after that is done we don't see no animals, we don't see no
fish or anything. We need an impact [statement]. And when you have
communities that depend on that, you know, they want to know why, and so
I think there would be more question and answer sessions . . ..
For a community whose cultural identity and basic sustenance is
equated with hunting and whaling, and therefore thoroughly enmeshed with
the well-being and relative stability of the natural environment,
weather and landscape changes that disrupt native animal populations
threaten the fundamentals of life.
Many participants express concern about the possible loss of their
culture and unique "subsistence" lifestyle due to anthropogenic impacts,
including global warming and activities of the petroleum industry. For
example, whale hunting, which holds an exalted place in Iñupiaq
material culture and spirituality, may be threatened by climate change,
the accompanying loss of sea ice, and alterations in seasonal patterns
of ice freezing and breaking up of the Arctic Ocean. The loss of sturdy
multi-year sea ice (ice which persists year after year, through the
spring/summer thaw) is particularly worrying. The dangers are not
theoretical—in 1997, and again in 2002, groups of over a hundred
whalers from Barrow (and their expensive equipment) had to be rescued by
helicopter when the ice they were traveling on disintegrated
unexpectedly.[29]
Ida Olemaun, a prominent whaling captain's wife, voices
great concern about changes in the sea ice:
During whaling, we've noticed that the ice is thinning
more. And it goes out earlier than before. And during the winter we
get open water, you know, during the month of December. One time right
up to the shoreline it opened up. So that's a lot of risk you know that
our hunters take in participating with the whaling . . .. One thing that I've
also noticed is that the ice is not coming back and that prevents us
from catching the seals, the bearded seals and walrus. So we hardly
catch any bearded seals now over there cause it goes out too fast now.
It never comes back.
"Subsistence" is the English term of choice by which many
Iñupiat refer to the essence of their culture and ways of life.
The formal definition of a subsistence economy is one that is
self-sustaining, where what is needed for life or nourishment is grown
or obtained by a society, for itself, without need for imports,
investment, or trade. Clearly the subsistence economy that previous
generations of Iñupiat created has been profoundly impacted by
capitalism. In fact, as Evelyn Donovan conveys, it takes quite a lot of
cash to participate in subsistence activities:
I know when I go hunting I spend over a thousand
dollars—gas, propane, gas for the four-wheelers and snow machines, and
we need the radios in case something happens. It just adds on. But we
don't complain once we get to camp. It's so nice and there's serenity
up there. And we can hunt and actually we can make a better person out
of you. You're ready to come back and deal with the whole world.
Despite the monetary costs, and the fact that many Eskimos
participate in business, industry, and development, it is a subsistence
lifestyle that was described as most highly valued, and most strongly
identified with being Iñupiaq, and valuing one's cultural
identity.[30]
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