HomeMy WebLinkAboutCoastal Erosion Protection and Community Relocation Shishmaref AK 2005
U.S. Army Corps
of Engineers
Alaska District
Coastal Erosion Protection and Community Relocation
Shishmaref, Alaska
Collocation Cultural Impact Assessment
December 2005
Prepared By:
University of Alaska Fairbanks
Under Contract to:
TETRATECH, INC.
1925 Post Alley
Seattle, WA 98101
Prepared by:
Dr. Peter P Schweitzer, Elizabeth Marino — University of Alaska, Fairbanks
Contributions from:
Matt Ganley — Bering Straits Foundation and Bering Straits Native Corporation
Dr. Deanna Kingston — Oregon State University
Stacey Stasenko —Independent Consultant from Shishmaref
Edited by:
David Broadfoot — Tetra Tech, Inc.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1.1 Study Background
1.2 Study Approach and Methodology.........ccsccsesssssssessssessessesessesscssseseesesessneseeeeseeseees
1.2.1 Approach 0. eeeeeeeseee
1.2.2 Methodology ...........
1.3 Organization of This Report..
1.4 Cultural Impact Assessment and Management Team.. 9
1.5 Literature REVICW ........cececcccesesssscsescesesesessseetscececece 10
1.5.1 Overview of Relocation Literature ..........c.ccccccccssssesessesesesessesesessescsesesessesesees 10
1.5.2 Literature about Shishmaref ..............c.ccccscssssssssesesesessesececsesesssssecseseseseesesesees 11 CHAPTER 2: 20" CENTURY RELOCATIONS .. 14
IN THE CIRCUMPOLAR NORTH .................
2.1 Canada .....eceecsesesesseeseeeees
2.3 Greenland ..
2.4 Fennoscandia....
2.5 Relocations in Alaska .........cccccscssssssssssesessssesesesescescsesesesessesesesecseseseseaseaees
2.5.1 OVETVIEW ....eeecsesseseseseeeeees
2.5.2 The Relocation of Attu to Atka
2.5.3 The Relocation from Holikachuk to Grayling.........sscsssssssssessesseeseeseeneenee 38
CHAPTER 3: CASE STUDY -~....cccceccccsesescsesseseseseseseeees
THE RELOCATION OF KING ISLANDERS TO NOME ..
3.1 Introduction..........
3.2 Historical Backgroun
3.3 East End: The Initial Settlement...
3.4 Long-Term Impacts of the Relocation
3.5 Conclusions Regarding the King Island Relocation............sscsssssssssssssesseeseeseeseens 61 PART TWO: POTENTIAL IMPACTS OF COLLOCATION — CONTEMPORARY VIEWS FROM SHISHMAREF, NOME, AND KOTZEBUE ........c:ssssssssssseseeseestesteesenees 66
CHAPTER 4: SHISHMAREF .
4.1 Introduction oe
4.2 Impacts on Shishmaref Culture .
4.2.1 Impacts on Language.......
4.2.2 Impacts on Carving and Sewing
4.2.3 Impacts on Dancing
4.2.4 Impacts on Festivals
4.2.5 Impacts on Cultural Values
4.2.6 Impacts on the Church and Cemetery
4.3 Impacts on Shishmaref Subsistence Practices and Lifestyles
4.3.1 Animal and Plant Availability in Nome and Kotzebue ...........cccceeeeeeeees
4.3.2 Impacts on the Preparation of Subsistence Foods and Subsistence Economy
Sustnsuscasascuatalatadendhstelebetertdedscbeostalabstocusnasebenstlstudnallanssbababalalabedsdabababetadesatadedadsesshosaistan 84
4.3.3 Impacts on Subsistence Equipment
4.3.4 Impacts of Entering into the Nome or Kotzebue Subsistence ommunity.. 86 4.3.5 Impacts on Safety of Subsistence Activities and Local Traditional Knowledge about Weather, Timeliness of Subsistence Activities, and
Oceans/Land Conditions ...0......cccsesssesssessesssesseessesssesssecssessecsseenees
4.3.6 Seasonally Returning to Shishmaref After Collocation.. ; 4.3.7 Impacts on a Sense of Place and the Subsistence Traditions ...........c:.sces00-++ 91 4.3.8 Long-term Animal Availability in the Shishmaref Area............c0..c.sceesseee 92
4.3.9 Conclusions
4.4 Impacts on Health at Shishmaref.. .94 4.4.1 General Health........0.0.0.000.. 95 4.4.2 Access to Health Care Facilities... 96 4.4.3 Diet ee eccecsscssesesessssessssscssssese 97 4.4.4 Alcohol and Drug Use and Abuse........c.ccsccsscsssessessessesseesessecseeeeees -98 4.4.5 Mental Health and Well-being .............cscsscssseseeseeee . 103 4.4.6 Conclusions .........ceecessssesssseseseesee . 105 4.5 Impacts on Social Structure at Shishmaref...........cccsssssssssssescsssesseesssecssseesssecseees 105 4.5.1 Child and Elder Care sr ebdeeleselededassdachselelesndeehahstabetsledededsdes 105 4.5.2 The Nuclear Family vs. the
4.5.3, Economics and Cash ..
4.5.4 Conclusions ..........c.ccc0 hs
CHAPTER 5: NOME AND KOTZEBUE..
5.1 Introduction 112 5.2 General Attitude toward Hosting Shishmaref faledadnsessetssesscesesarstasssesascsssoseece! ares 112 5.3 Impacts on Nome/Kotzebue Culture ........c.ccecsessssessesssessesssessecssessesssessucesessueesees 115 5.4 Impacts on Nome/Kotzebue Subsistence Practices... 119 5.5 Impacts on Health at Nome and Kotzebue................ 124 5.6 Impacts on Social Structure in Nome and Kotzebue. - 128 5.7 Other Impacts and Concerns ...........cccssseeseeseeeeee .. 130 5.7.1 Infrastructure and Economic Impacts... 131 5.7.2 The Value of Adequate Communication.............0..000- . 132 5.7.3 Basic Rights of Shishmaref .............0ccc000 .. 133 PART THREE: SYNTHESIS AND CONCLUSIONS... .. 134 CHAPTER 6: SYNTHESIS OF LIBRARY AND ORAL RESEARCH steteseabonsbasodad 135 6.1. Introduction .........
6.2 The Historical Case Studies
6.3 Contemporary Thought on Collocation in Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue.. 141 6.3.1 Shishmaref................ccccssssseeees
6.3.2 Nome and Kotzebue
CHAPTER 7: CONCLUSIONS ABOUT THE LIKELY CULTURAL IMPACTS ON SHISHMAREF FROM COLLOCATION ......ccssscsssessessssesscssecsecssessucsssssessucssesasenseeses 145 APPENDIX A - REFERENCES .........csccssessessessessessesseseseeeseees
APPENDIX B - SCRIPT FOR NARRATIVE INTERVIEWS
APPENDIX C - LIST OF INDIVIDUALS INTERVIEWED AT SHISHMAREF, NOME, KOTZEBUE, AND ANCHORAGE ......scsssessesssesssessecssessesssesssesurssuccusssscssessseaeceses 1
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, the authors want to express their gratitude to the people of
Shishmaref, without whose generous assistance and input this study and report never
would have been possible. Apart from the interviewees listed in appendix C, the
following deserve special mention: Clifford and Shirley Weyiouanna, Tony, Sr., and
Fanny Weyiouanna, and Richard and Rachel Stasenko; all whom made sure that we had a
place to stay and something to eat while in Shishmaref. Among local organizations, the
Shishmaref Erosion and Relocation Coalition (and in particular Lucy Eningowuk and
Tony Weyiouanna, Sr.), the IRA Council for Shishmaref (and in particular Nancy
Kokeok), the Shishmaref City Council, and Shishmaref Search and Rescue need to be
acknowledged for their support.
In Kotzebue, apart from the interviewees, Linda Joule, Alex Whiting, James Magdanz,
and Susan Georgette were most instrumental in making our stay productive. In addition,
Willie Goodwin provided an important contribution by agreeing to participate in a
community meeting in Shishmaref in August of 2005. The mayor of Nome, Denise
Michels, provided strong project support, as did Kawerak and the Bering Straits Native
Corporation. The National Park Service assisted with lodging in Nome.
The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Alaska District, deserves special credit for initiating
this cultural impact assessment of potential collocation. Diane Hanson, Margan Grover,
Josh Wisniewski, and Bruce Sexauer were the individuals most directly involved in
supporting the project. At the Department of Anthropology of the University of Alaska
Fairbanks, Karen Kosiek made sure that administrative matters were taken care of, while
Salena Kaye Bias provided much-needed assistance during the preparation of the final
report. Finally, Tetra Tech, Inc., — and Dave Broadfoot, in particular — deserve our thanks
for entrusting us with the job at hand and for supporting us through the good and bad
times of the journey.
PART ONE: INTRODUCTION AND HISTORICAL
BACKGROUND
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION
1.1 Study Background
The Alaska District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Alaska District (Corps) initiated the
study presented in this report to identify and assess the cultural impacts of the collocation
of Shishmaref with Nome or Kotzebue. This report documents the effects of such a
collocation gathered through literature research and through interviews conducted at
Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue.
Since previous testimony already suggested that the majority of Shishmaref residents are
opposed to moving to Nome or Kotzebue, the interviews conducted with Shishmaref
residents were not so much focused on the question whether the residents say yes or no to
collocation, but on their reasons for saying yes or no. This provided opportunity for
Shishmaref residents to detail what they consider to be the cultural impacts of collocation.
The research and analysis of historical case studies of relocations in the circumpolar
North (including King Island and other Alaskan cases) were used by the project team to
build predictive models of cultural impacts to support the testimonies of Shishmaref
residents.
In addition to residents of Shishmaref, current residents of Nome and Kotzebue were
interviewed about potential cultural impacts of the possible collocation. While the
inhabitants of Nome and Kotzebue cannot speak for the residents of Shishmaref, their
perspectives on potential cultural impacts of the collocation on their communities provide
additional important testimony. Also, a segment of the population of Nome — former
residents of King Island — was interviewed as well, to provide a comparable perspective
to the Shishmaref case.
1.2 Study Approach and Methodology
1.2.1 Approach
The approach taken in this study was based primarily on the following assumptions:
Numerous relocations have taken place in the circumpolar North throughout the
20" century. Despite the fact that many of these relocations have occurred under
political, cultural, and economic circumstances different from contemporary
Alaska, these experiences can be taken into account. Alaskan instances of
relocation and/or collocation were given more consideration than others.
The current residents of Shishmaref are the main experts regarding the cultural
impacts on their community of a possible collocation with Nome or Kotzebue.
Thus, interviews with a representative cross-section of the population of
Shishmaref constitute the core of this cultural impact assessment.
While historical relocation case studies are important, it cannot be assumed that
cultural impacts elsewhere would be the same for Shishmaref. However, since the
assessment of potential impacts from collocation of Shishmaref are based on
predictions and not on after-the-fact observations, historical information can be
used to frame the contemporary narratives from Shishmaref.
According to Barrow, cultural impacts are changes to the “norms, values and
beliefs” that guide individuals and help them to locate themselves in society
(1997: 226). Assessing cultural impacts entails studying how people alter their
norms, values, and beliefs when faced with new situations such as immigration,
contact with new groups, changes in economic opportunities, and so on. This
might include the study of effects on material culture such as archaeological sites
and on non-material aspects of culture, such as language, values, and general
well-being. For the purposes of this assessment, cultural impacts associated with
Shishmaref collocation are defined very broadly, to include: (a) language; (b)
cultural activities; (c) values; (d) subsistence practices; (e) health; and (f) social
structure.
1.2.2 Methodology
Library research and fieldwork were the primary methodological tools employed in this
study. The main objective of the library research was to identify and assess accounts of
collocations and relocations in the circumpolar North that revealed reasons for positive
and negative impacts. The collocation of King Islanders to Nome was assessed most
thoroughly, since it is the case study culturally, socially, and politically most relevant to
Shishmaref.
Field activities consisted primarily of interviews, most of them conducted with
individuals. No surveys were conducted and no standardized questionnaires were used.
Instead, semi-structured (or open-ended) interviews were administered, which gave
individual interviewees the opportunity to talk about impacts not anticipated by the
researchers. The “script for narrative interviews” used by the study team for interviews in
Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue is presented in Appendix B.
At Shishmaref, 48 interviews were conducted with 54 residents, comprising a cross-
section of the population 18 years and older (the total population is approx. 600). Also,
between 10 and 20 interviews were conducted in each of Nome and Kotzebue (out of a
total population of about 3,500 and 3,100 respectively). Although it was not possible to
achieve a similar cross-section in Nome and Kotzebue as in Shishmaref, the objective in
selecting interviewees was to have the major ethnic sub-groups of the population
represented, and to have approximately equal gender representation.
In addition to the above, 10 interviews were conducted with 14 individuals of King Island
descent resident in Nome and Anchorage (who still remember the relocation period).
When appropriate, pseudonyms were used to protect the identity of interviewees who
chose to remain anonymous.
A list of individuals interviewed at Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue, and Anchorage is
presented in Appendix C.
1.3 Organization of This Report
The information compiled in this report is presented in three main parts and three
appendices, as described below.
Part One presents this introduction (Chapter 1), and a historical discussion of relocation
in the circumpolar North based on published and unpublished literature about northern
relocations (Chapter 2). Literature on 20" century relocations provides a variety of
comparative northern case studies, including Canada, Russia, Greenland, and Alaska, also
discussed in Chapter 2. Since the relocation of King Islanders was spatially and culturally
most closely related to the collocation scenario under review, it receives special attention
in a separate chapter (Chapter 3). Although Part One focuses on historical research,
contemporary information and quotes from interviews with King Islanders are included.
Part Two presents contemporary views of Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue residents
about social and cultural impacts on the Shishmaref community that emerged from the
interviews in Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue (Chapter 4). For assessment purposes, the
impacts on Shishmaref were divided into culture, subsistence, health, and social structure
categories; each discussed in a separate section of Chapter 4. The impacts on Nome and
Kotzebue, which received less attention during the interview phase, are discussed in one
chapter (Chapter 5).
Part Three presents a synthesis of information gathered, and conclusions as to the effects
of Shishmaref’s collocation to Nome or Kotzebue. Chapter 6 presents a synthesis of the
library research of previous relocations in the Arctic and oral research of the people in
Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue. Finally, Chapter 7 presents conclusions as to the likely
cultural impacts on Shishmaref, from collocation to Nome or Kotzebue.
Appendix A provides a list of the documents referenced in this report. Appendix B
presents the “script” for narrative interviews used by the assessment team for the
interviews in Shishmaref, Nome, Kotzebue, and Anchorage. Appendix C presents.a list of
the individuals interviewed at Shishmaref, Nome, Kotzebue, and Anchorage.
1.4 Cultural Impact Assessment and Management Team
Dr. Peter Schweitzer, a professor of anthropology at the University of Alaska Fairbanks
(UAF), served as the principal investigator and technical coordinator of the study and
report. He conducted and analyzed interviews in Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue and
coordinated the library research; and he has overall responsibility for the contents of this
report.
Elizabeth Marino, who just completed her M.A. degree in anthropology at UAF, served
as primary research assistant. She conducted and analyzed interviews in Shishmaref and
Nome, and contributed substantially to the library research and to all parts of this report.
Stacey Stasenko, a resident of Shishmaref with a B.A. degree in Rural Development from
UAF, served as the local research assistant. She provided local research coordination in
Shishmaref and assisted in conducting and analyzing the Shishmaref interviews.
Dr. Deanna Kingston, an Assistant Professor of Anthropology at Oregon State
University and of King Island descent, served as consultant for Section 3 (King Island
Case Study). She contributed to the historical study of the King Island relocation and
conducted all of the interviews with King Island residents of Nome and Anchorage.
Matt Ganley, the Land and Resource Manager for Bering Straits Native Corporation,
provided logistical assistance on the regional level and conducted and analyzed some of
the interviews in Nome and Kotzebue.
David Broadfoot, Senior Environmental Planner and Tetra Tech Project Manager for the
project provided overall management and served as editor for this report.
1.5 Literature Review
1.5.1 Overview of Relocation Literature
Most of the available general social science literature on relocation and resettlement
contains information that is not particularly relevant to Shishmaref’s case. This is
primarily because most of these studies cover regions of the world that are geographically
far removed from Shishmaref, and deal with the relocation and resettlement of tens or
hundreds of thousands of people, rather than the fewer than 600 hundred individuals at
Shishmaref. Examples of such cases include De Wet 1985 (Africa); Lassailly-Jacob 2000
(Africa); Shami and McCann 1993 (Middle East); and Mahapatra 2000 (India).
Much of the published literature on relocation has a “Third World” focus, with many of
these publications originating from “development studies”; an interdisciplinary field of
applied research geared toward the betterment of impoverished regions of the world. The
World Bank is the prime sponsor of many development studies and projects. Michael M.
Cernea — one of the foremost authorities in the relocation field worldwide, has worked for
the World Bank for more than 20 years. For examples of these studies see Cernea 1991,
1999, 2000; Cernea and Guggenheim 1993; Cernea and McDowell 2000.
One of the classical anthropological contributions to the topic is Elizabeth Colson’s
(1971) The Social Consequences of Resettlement. In 1957-58, the Gwembe Tonga of
Central Africa were resettled to make room for a hydro-electric dam across the Zambezi
River. Colson, who had first visited the area in 1949, was able to compare social,
10
economic, political, and religious relations before and after the resettlement. At the same
time, she compared predictions made by her before the relocation with actual
developments. Still, despite this ideal scenario of longitudinal research, Colson (1971:14)
had to admit that it was very difficult to differentiate the effects of the resettlement from
other major impacts influencing the Gwembe Tonga during those years.
Although most of the general relocation cases discussed in the published literature may
seem to have little in common with Shishmaref’s case, some of these studies help in
developing the general theoretical framework and terminology used in discussions of
relocation worldwide. Examples of such studies include Downing 1996; Hansen and
Oliver-Smith 1982; Hugo 1996; Papastergiadis 2000; and Schreuder 1996. James Scott’s
recent book Seeing Like a State (1998) seems to have little to do with relocations at first
sight (and, of course, even less with Shishmaref). However, Scott’s pervasive critique of
state-sponsored “schemes to improve the human condition” is certainly applicable to
many relocation cases. One of his examples is the “ujamaa village campaign”, which took
place in Tanzania between 1973 and 1976. In the interest of development and welfare, at
least 5 million Tanzanians were relocated, the largest resettlement project in independent
Africa (Scott 1998: 223). In the end, the scheme failed leaving a trail of social and
ecological disasters (Scott 1998: 246-247).
Resettlements and relocations have also been the result of the construction of large dams
for the generation of hydroelectric power. Examples that involved the relocation or likely
relocation of indigenous peoples in the North include the James Bay Project in Quebec
and the Alta Dam Project in Norway, among others. Also, McCully (1996) has provided a
comprehensive study of the environmental and — to a lesser degree - human consequences
of dam-building. Unfortunately, however, the relevant circumpolar cases are barely
mentioned in the book.
1.5.2 Literature about Shishmaref
The published and unpublished literature about Shishmaref focuses mainly on traditional
uses of resource areas and the documentation of previous relocation efforts. Two recent
11
unpublished reports prepared by the Corps (still in draft form) discuss the cultural history
of the area (Grover 2005) and traditional subsistence land use and occupancy
(Wisniewski 2005).
The literature indicates that the Shishmaref community relies on seasonal hunting,
fishing, trapping, and plant gathering for food, and to augment the cash economy.
Traditional resource use areas around Shishmaref have practical as well as cultural and
spiritual importance to local residents. These traditional resource use areas, as well as
important historical sites, prehistoric village sites, and oral history accounts in the
Shishmaref area are characterized by Ifiupiaq place names. These place names serve to
outline the land area traditionally harvested by the community, both historically and
contemporarily (Koutsky 1981).
The economic benefit of resource use, the local perspectives about “Native foods”, and a
list of locally harvested resources are discussed in Sandra Sobelman’s (1985) report on
the economics of resource use in Shishmaref. This report describes both the economic
and the socio-cultural structure of their cash/subsistence economy. It also provides
information on the plants and animals harvested by the community and the seasonal cycle
of these harvests. A thesis by Stacie McIntosh in 1999 took the information about local
plants a step further by analyzing the issue of ethno-botanical classification in
Shishmaref.
James Simon’s 1998 dissertation on reindeer herding in Shishmaref shows how the
incorporation of reindeer herding into the traditional subsistence economy has contributed
to improved standards of living in the village. Also, a recent report by the Division of
Subsistence of the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (Georgette 2001) discusses local
traditional knowledge and use of brown bears in Shishmaref and neighboring areas.
A regional perspective on subsistence practices is provided in a publication entitled From
Hunters to Herders, published in 2004, authored by Ellanna and Sherrod. This
publication provides an historical account of the introduction of reindeer to the Seward
12
Peninsula and the effect this had (and continues to have) on local economies, including
Shishmaref.
Severe storms during the fall of 1973 prompted an assessment of relocation by
Shishmaref and concerned government agencies. Media clippings, letters exchanged
between government agencies and the community, and background information on rates
of erosion and storms were compiled in a report prepared by the Department of
Community and Regional Affairs, Division of Community Planning (DCRA, DCP
1974a). A survey of the population and standing structures in the village was also made
that year by this agency (DCRA, DCP 1974b).
In 1978 the consulting firm of Dickson-Oswald-Walch-Lee (1978), conducted a detailed
study of existing structures in Shishmaref, including the water supply and solid waste
disposal systems. This report assumed that off-island relocation costs would be
prohibitively expensive, and therefore focused on expansion and relocation options for
Shishmaref to remain on Sarichef Island. This report also briefly summarized agency and
community decisions concerning relocation from the time of the first reports (1974 to
1978), and highlighted protective measures being taken to prevent further erosion of the
island.
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CHAPTER 2: 20™ CENTURY RELOCATIONS IN THE CIRCUMPOLAR NORTH
From the literature reviewed, it has become apparent that the relocation and collocation
experiences reported in the circumpolar North provide good comparisons with
Shishmaref. In the following chapter, a brief discussion of our findings from available
relevant literature on relocations in the circumpolar North is presented, on a
regional/country basis. The case study of the relocation from King Island to Nome is
presented separately in Chapter 3.
2.1 Canada
Canadian relocations are, comparatively speaking, the best documented cases of
relocations in the circumpolar North. Two cases — one Arctic and one Sub-Arctic - stand
out. The Arctic case, the so-called “High Arctic Relocation” - a series of relocation
efforts during the 1950s — has received considerable attention by scholars and journalists
in recent years. Apart from books and articles on the subject (e.g., Grant 1991; Kenney
1994; Marcus 1992, 1995; Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples 1994; Tester and
Kulchyski 1994), a documentary film about these relocations was also developed
(Tassinari 1995).
The basic premise of the High Arctic Relocations was to move Inuit families from
Northern Quebec and the Northwest Territories north, into the High Arctic, far removed
from their familiar environments. Seemingly, the issue of Canadian sovereignty over the
Arctic Archipelago was one of the motivating factors for the government in pursuing these
relocations. Another factor apparently was the paternalistic attitude that the well-being of the
Inuit was threatened by “southern civilization”, who therefore needed to be relocated into
uninhabited areas far away from this “polluting civilization”. All the above-mentioned
articles, books, and reports attempt to document the historical injustice afflicted on Inuit in
the name of “social engineering”. The only exception is Kenney’s (1994) account, which
reads like a retrospective public relations campaign for the relocations.
14
The Sub-Arctic case involved the James Bay Hydroelectric Project. In 1971, political
planning and physical construction of a hydroelectric mega-project commenced, harnessing
the water power of the James Bay basin. The indigenous inhabitants of the region (primarily
Cree and some Inuit) were thus forced to organize politically, which resulted in the historic
James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement in 1975. The first phase of the James Bay
Project was completed by the mid-1980s, at which time plans for second phase, James Bay
II, were unveiled. Indigenous protests and problems with U.S. customers have led to
indefinite postponements of the project. The gigantic dimensions of the project, as well as
the vocal indigenous protests surrounding it, have led to numerous publications (see, e.g.,
Ettenger 1998; Gagné 1994; Homig 1999; McCutcheon 1991; Niezen 1993, 1998; Peters
1999; Richardson 1991[1976]). Fortunately, several of them (e.g., Hornig 1999; Niezen
1993) deal specifically with the social (and environmental) impacts of the project.
The James Bay mega-project stimulated a large number of publications, most of which
deal with the political struggles pro and contra the project, and with the “James Bay and
Northern Quebec Agreement” of 1975, which was considered a landmark agreement
between indigenous peoples (Cree and Inuit) and governments (Canada and Quebec) at
the time. The agreement includes the requirement to conduct an environmental impact
assessment, which was supposed to cover the social effects of development as well
(Peters 1999: 397). However, the sections of the agreement dealing with environmental
assessment were “vague and difficult to translate into workable principles” (Peters 1999:
408), probably due to the novelty of the assessment idea at the time. In the end,
environmental (and social) impact assessments seemed to languish in political struggles
(Fenge 1992).
There are a limited number of publications dealing with the overall social impacts of the
hydroelectric project apart from the mandated assessment process. Given the fact that few
baseline data were available and that it is notoriously difficult to determine causal
relationships in processes of social change, there is no full agreement as to what the social
consequences of the project are. For example, Warner (1999: 116) doubts that dams and
reservoirs had a major impact but blames roads, which made Cree communities more
15
accessible to outsiders, resulting in a loss of political autonomy and stress on subsistence
resources. However, it can be argued that the roads in question would not have been built
without the hydroelectric project. Even more important is the fact that most of the Cree
are discontented with the agreement and blame the project for many negative social and
cultural developments. As Tanner (1999: 136-137) has pointed out, an evaluation of the
combined effects of the hydroelectric project and other social impacts would be
appropriate. Thus, while dams and reservoirs might not be responsible for everything,
they might have pushed social and cultural systems already under stress “over the edge”.
From the literature reviewed, there appears to be only one article that deals specifically
with the social impacts of a village relocation in the context of the overall James Bay
project. The author, Ronald Niezen (1993), looked at the Cree community of Chisasibi,
which was relocated from Fort George Island to the mouth of the La Grande River in
1980. He was able to analyze 1986/1987 social service files for eight Cree communities
of the James Bay area, thereby comparing Chisasibi with communities that had not been
relocated and had experienced little outside influence (e.g., the community of Mistassini).
The data revealed that the community of Chisasibi had experienced a much higher rate of
social service interventions than Mistassini (Niezen 1993: 522). Although the two
communities were of comparable size, Chisasibi had 4.5 times more “active files” than
Mistassini and 11 times more “interventions”. Also, the percentage of “youth files” was
twice as high in Chisasibi than in Mistassini. Niezen (1993) sees a connection between
the rate of social service interventions and the degree to which a community is engaged in
traditional subsistence activities. Chisasibi has a smaller percentage of its population
engaged in these activities, because: (a) part of its hunting and trapping territories were
flooded by the reservoirs and (b) fish from the reservoirs showed elevated mercury levels.
Throughout the entire James Bay region of the Cree homeland, the employment
categories “at school” and “unemployed” showed a disproportionately high rate of social
service interventions, while “traditional employment” (i.e., hunting and trapping) was
correlated with a disproportionately low level of interventions (Niezen 1993: 523). Thus,
16
the high incidence of social problems at Chisasibi is best explained by the decline of a
subsistence lifestyle, which was triggered by the relocation.
Another publication, which deals at least partly with the cultural and social consequences
of the relocation of Chisasibi, is McCutcheon’s (1991) Electric Rivers. The author
describes the community as an example of social decay triggered by rapid change
(McCutcheon 1991: 120). He points out several visible signs of the decay, including: (a)
aspects of factionalism, physically separating different Cree groups and outsiders (each
group living in its own area within the community); (b) the break-down of sharing and its
replacement by commercial relations, specifically the selling of game instead of sharing
within the community; (c) increasing health problems such as alcoholism, sexually
transmitted diseases, diabetes, and heart disease; and (d) the loss of cultural identity
(McCutcheon 1991: 120-122). He also compared Chisasibi with the Cree community of
Wemindji, which — although impacted by the hydroelectric project — was not relocated.
Wemindji appeared much more traditional and cohesive to the author, a fact attributed to
its isolation and limited access by outsiders (McCutcheon 1991: 122).
Thus, the relocated community of Chisasibi might serve as a worst-case scenario for the
potential effects of moving an entire community. Although it could be unfair to blame all
the contemporary problems of Chisasibi on the relocation, the available evidence speaks
to the strong impacts of the move. The fact that both Niezen and McCutcheon compare
the situation in Chisasibi with other communities in the region that had not been relocated
(e.g., Mistassini and Wemindji) make the case particularly compelling. It seems that
relocation resulted in social disintegration through outside influence, especially reliance
on salaried labor, and reduced subsistence activities. This makes the Chisasibi case
relevant for Shishmaref and others.
Apart from the High Arctic Relocations and the James Bay project, there are other
reasonably well-documented Canadian cases of relocations affecting indigenous
communities and individuals. For example, the Innu of Davis Inlet in Labrador were
recently in the news when they relocated to a new community (Natuashish) they had helped
17
to design and build (Pfeiff 2003). They had moved from seasonal camps to Davis Inlet in the
mid-1960s, when the government had promised infrastructural improvements and
educational opportunities (Henriksen 1973). The promised improvements and opportunities
never materialized, and Davis Inlet became a symbol for a failed settlement.
Another case in this region involved various attempts during the 1960s and 1970s to relocate
indigenous families and individuals for the primary purpose of providing employment
opportunities, such as pipeline construction and maintenance, mining, and highway
construction (Stevenson 1968; Lloyd 1974). Apparently, none of these attempts were
successful for the long term. Lloyd (1974) provides a summary of 12 such cases, the
majority of which were not intended as permanent moves. Instead, groups of mainly single,
unemployed men were hired and flown to developing areas of northern Canada.
Government or private firms rarely provided resources for family members to travel to or
relocate to the new job sites. Consequently, even the few attempts at permanent relocation
eventually failed.
Recently, the prominent anthropologist David Damas published a detailed history of Inuit
settlements in the Central Canadian Arctic (Damas 2002). In addition to documenting
traditional settlement patterns, Damas’s focus was on the history of settlements following
World War II that was largely driven by changing welfare state policies. He found that
many communities have experienced the positive effects of relocation, including access
to better health care; more opportunities in education; and the ability to form political
organizations that have successfully defended their communities. However, the list of
negative effects is much longer, including a decline in hunting, trapping, and fishing-
especially among the young; a move from extended family household to nuclear family
households; a generational divide between more traditional elderly Inuit and the young;
high unemployment largely exacerbated by the decline in traditional hunting, trapping,
and fishing; and in some communities marked increases in alcoholism and drug abuse,
crime, and suicide (Damas 2002: 196-202).
18
2.2 Russia
Government-sponsored relocations of northern native peoples have a long history in the
Russian North. For example, when the Itel’men of Kamchatka revolted against Russian
exploitation in 1731, a large number of Itel’men were killed and others relocated to other
parts of the peninsula (Forsyth 1992: 138-139). In the Soviet period, the scale of forcible
relocations increased. During the 1930s and 1940s, large-scale deportations of “enemy”
peoples (such as Koreans, Germans, or Chechens) into “empty” areas (e.g., the steppes of
Kazakhstan) gained notoriety. The Far North of Russia was little affected by these Stalinist
relocations, other than being a preferred location for gulags, Soviet-style concentration
camps. Prior to Word War II, the only notable relocation case happening relatively close to
Shishmaref was the resettlement of Siberian Yupik people from the Chukchi Peninsula to
Wrangell Island in the 1920s (Barr 1977; Ushakov 1982). The goal of this action was to
cement Soviet sovereignty claims to the island. As in neighboring Alaska, the decision in
Russia in the early 20" century to build schools, stores, and other facilities in one village and
not in a neighboring one often led to a gradual relocation to the settlement that had
government facilities. Unfortunately, it still remains unknown if these relocations were
voluntary in every case.
The major wave of resettlements affecting indigenous villages in the Soviet North occurred
during the second half of the 1950s (and later), after the death of Stalin. Triggered by a
resolution of the Communist Party entitled “On Measures for the Further Economic and
Cultural Development of the Peoples of the North” (March 1957), many northem
indigenous communities — those considered “unprofitable” - were forcibly closed and
“amalgamated” with larger ones (Vakhtin 1992: 18-19). The rationale was that
consolidating groups of indigenous people into a few large settlements would be more
economical to service and maintain than several small ones. The effects of these brutally
conducted interventions were devastating. Vakhtin observed in the context of
“amalgamations” on the Chukchi Peninsula that “’loss of meaning’ was in turn followed by
such social problems as unemployment, alcoholism and high suicide rates” (Vakhtin 1992:
19).
19
While the basic facts of Soviet relocations in Siberia (i.e., when and where) are well known
and their extraordinarily negative consequences are obvious, there are hardly any specific
case studies to be found in the published literature. Not surprisingly, the few available
accounts have been published after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. For example, Bruce
Grant’s 1995 monograph about the Nivkhi of Sakhalin Island contains an informative
chapter about “1960s Resettlements and the Time of Stagnation” (Grant 1995: 120-143).
During that time, all the Nivkhi of Sakhalin were moved into two settlements, which were
poorly located for the pursuit of subsistence activities (Vakhtin 1992: 19-22).
A
| Interestingly, the way these relocations were accomplished did not differ much from cases in
| democratic countries The state closed services from day care, schools, post offices, and
| stores, “stores, and thé thereby forced almost everyone to leave. The few individuals who stayed behind
were typically retirees, while others returned during spring and summer (Grant 1995: 134).
One of the major effects of the relocations was that individual Nivkhi, who had been
competently running affairs in their home villages, suddenly found they were reduced to
second-class status in their new communities (Grant 1995: 129). At least one of the reasons
was that they had to compete economically and politically with non-indigenous Soviet
citizens, who began to flood the North in search of economic advantage at the time.
However, available evidence suggests that - back in the 1960s - many Nivkhi were
supportive of the moves (Grant 1995: 142-143). Ideals of progress and pan-Soviet
advancement were still widely held then. During the 1990s, these ideals were.no longer seen
as achievable or desirable and a cultural revitalization took its place. From such a
perspective, the relocations were predominantly negative.
A recent study by the Brookings Institution (Hill and Gaddy 2003) deals with
government-sponsored non-indigenous migrations to the North during Soviet times.
While these migrations did not technically relocate indigenous communities, they often
had the effect that the native people suddenly felt like strangers in their own
communities, because they had become out-numbered by immigrants from the European
parts of the Soviet Union. In post-Soviet times, there has been a noticeably opposite
trend, often leading to significant (non-indigenous) population losses in the North. Niobe
20
Thompson (2002, 2004) has focused on the case of Chukotka under Governor
Abramovich, where a highly-subsidized campaign to relocate non-indigenous settlers to
more temperate regions of Russia was conducted under the banner of modernization. It is
ironic that Soviet authorities during the 1950s and 1960s used the same banner to
encourage the relocation of non-indigenous groups in the opposite direction (i.e., moving
them north).
Obviously, it would have been rather dangerous to write about the effects of relocations for
Soviet scholars before the late 1980s. At the same time, foreign scholars were often not
aware of the details and local effects of these actions. Thus, it was all the more surprising
when an article appeared in 1981 in French, which detailed the effects of moving the
Siberian Yupik people of Naukan (on the Chukchi Peninsula) to the Chukchi village of
Nunyamo in 1958 and of subsequently closing Numyamo in 1977 (Chichlo 1981). The
mystery can be explained by the fact that Boris Chichlo, a Soviet anthropologist, was able to
visit Nunyamo in 1977, before emigrating to France.’
The forced closure of Big Diomede village in 1948 brought a new, involuntary quality to
population movements of the area. The geographic position of the island and the year of the
closure make it clear that this was a result of the beginning of the Cold War. It is not by
chance that the forced termination of indigenous travel across Bering Strait happened at the
same time. However, the consequences of this closure were less traumatic than in other
Chukotkan cases. The population of Big Diomede was relatively small at that time, and
many of the inhabitants had close ties to or were themselves from Naukan; thus, the Big
Diomeders were easily integrated into Naukan.
The next village closure of the area involved the Chukchi settlement of Dezhnevo. In 1951,
the village was terminated and the population relocated to Uelen. It remains unclear what the
real reasons for the closure had been. Cold War considerations might have played their part,
' Unless indicated otherwise, the information presented in the following section is based on an unpublished
report (Schweitzer and Golovko 1995), compiled in the context of a project documenting indigenous contacts
across Bering Strait.
21
however, the still existing settlement of Naukan was closer to Alaska than Dezhnevo. In any
case, the population of Dezhnevo was easily integrated into Uelen, with which historic ties
had already existed.
The year 1958 marked the closure of Naukan. This administrative measure had much more
devastating consequences than any previous relocation. The main reason is that Naukan was
by then the only settlement for the Nuvuqaghmiit. There seem to have been two major
reasons for the closure of Naukan. The Cold War was still going strong and Naukan was by
then the settlement in northeastern Chukotka closest to Alaska, and the immediate post-
Stalin era saw the acceleration of a policy called “Development of the North” (osvoenie
Severa). As mentioned in the previous section, this policy was geared toward the
amalgamation of smaller villages in order to create “agricultural cities” which were thought
to be more productive.
The people of Naukan were mainly relocated to Nunyamo which had been an entirely
Chukchi village until then. The more than 100 Chukchi were suddenly facing an almost
equal number of Nuvugaghmiit in their village. It is not difficult to imagine that this
situation led to interethnic tensions (some of the 1993 interviews speak to that). However,
after several years, most of these conflicts were overcome and Nunyamo became the new
center of the Nuvugaghmiit.
After the closure of Naukan in 1958, not all residents of Nuvuqaq moved to Nunyamo; some
resettled in Uelen, where they had kinship ties, and some went to Lavrentiya for better
educational or job opportunities. During the 1960s, some Naukan families were living in
Pinakul, across the bay from Lavrentiya, where a sea-mammal hunting station was
operating. When Pinakul was closed in the late 1960s, its residents were moved to
Lavrentiya. The same happened to most of the Nunyamo residents after 1977: they joined
the growing Yupik community in Lavrentiya. Some former residents of Naukan moved
from Nunyamo to Lorino, which until then did not have a sizable Nuvugaghmiit community.
Thus, it was devastating to the Nuvuqaghmiit when Nunyamo was closed in 1977. Although
the decision to close Nunyamo was already made in the early 1970s, it took until 1977 for
22
the last residents to be forced to leave against their will: in 1976 there were still 232 people
living in Nunyamo, among them 61 Yupik (Chichlo 1981:38).
The closure of Nunyamo in 1977 seemed so devastating to the Nuvuqaghmiit that Boris
Chichlo, a Soviet anthropologist who had emigrated to France, called his article on the
subject (somewhat sensationally) “the end of an ethnic group” (Chichlo 1981). While the
Naukan people have not disappeared, they see themselves as a kind of “diaspora”. Since
1977, the three villages or small towns of Lorino, Lavrentiya, and Uelen are the only
settlements left in the eastern part of the Chukotskiy District. These communities also serve
as the main places of residence for the diaspora community of Naukan.
Since 1942, Lavrentiya has functioned as the regional center of the Chukotskiy District. In
1993, it was inhabited by 2,911 people, 85.7% of which were non-Natives (List of the
Villages 1993:11). The Chukchi, comprising 8% of the overall population of Lavrentiya, are
only slightly more numerous than the Siberian Yupik (5.8%), whose large majority are
descendents of the Nuvugaghmiit. Thus, contemporary Lavrentiya is clearly dominated —
demographically, socially, and politically - by non-Natives. On the other hand, the 169
Yupik residents constitute almost half of the living descendents of the Nuvugaghmiit.
Together with the administrative importance of Lavrentiya, this fact makes Lavrentiya the
unofficial capital of the Nuvugaghmiit. The 235 Chukchi, while numerically stronger than
the Naukan people, are politically less visible in contemporary Lavrentiya than the
Nuvugaghmiit, when measured by the number of people from each group who hold elected
or non-elected offices.
Lorino is the largest Chukchi village in the world. While not being an administrative center,
it currently houses 1,551 people, 1,032 (or 66.5%) of which are Chukchi, 29.1% (or 451
people) are non-Natives, and 67 (or 4.3%) are Yupik (List of the Villages 1993:11).
Consequently, Lorino is demographically and socially dominated by Chukchi, while the
mostly Russian non-Natives are still prominent in village politics. The Nuvugaghmiit of
Lorino are a little noticed minority. The village of Uelen is also demographically dominated
by Chukchi: out of 1,034 residents, 55% are Chukchi, 36.4% are non-Natives, and 7.7% are
23
Yupik (List of the Villages 1993:11). However, the internal structure of Uelen is quite
different from Lorino. The high percentage of non-Natives, unusual for a Chukotkan village
— which is neither a regional center, nor a military base, nor a gold-mining town - reflects
Uelen's past as an early center of Soviet administration, while the absolute number of
Nuvugaghmiit is only slightly higher than in Lorino (80 vs. 67), their relative importance as
an ethnic population segment in Uelen is much more pronounced than in Lorino. This
becomes understandable if we take the geographical proximity of Uelen to Naukan into
consideration; there have been Naukan individuals and families living in Uelen even before
the 1958 closure of Nuvuqagq. In addition, the 7.7% share of the overall Uelen population is
the highest Nuvugqaghmiit percentage in any Chukotkan settlement.
The entire contemporary Nuvugaghmiit community, i.e. all the descendants of the former
Native residents of Naukan, totals about 350 people, 87% (304 individuals) of which reside
in the Chukotskiy District (where Lavrentiya, Lorino, and Uelen are located). The
Chukotskiy District is thus clearly the “home base” of the contemporary Nuvugaghmiit and
its administrative center, the non-Native dominated Lavrentiya, their unofficial capital
(almost 45% of the overall Naukan community live there). The Chukchi village of Uelen is
the second most important settlement for the continuation of Nuvugaghmiit ethnicity,
followed in importance by Lorino.
While more specific information about social and cultural impacts of the relocation could
be gleaned from further investigation, it can be said that it is likely that the relocation
experience has shaped the way Naukan people interact with other ethnic groups.
Although they are minority everywhere they live, they have succeeded in occupying a
higher number of cultural and political leadership positions than their proportion of the
overall population would lead to expect. One possible explanation is a kind of “diaspora
syndrome”, which has forced the Nuvuqaghmiit to stick together and to be more active
and vocal than other groups.
24
2.3 Greenland
Thule has traditionally been inhabited by the Inughuit, a tribe of semi-nomadic hunters
(Spiermann 2004: 573) that are culturally and linguistically related to the Inuit population
that occupies Greenland, Alaska, Canada, and parts of Chukotka, Russia (Lynge 2002:
12). The Inughuit were mostly caribou hunters, whalers, fishermen, and gatherers. In the
20" century, most Inughuit were living at the Uummannagq settlement when political
changes spurred relocation.
In 1953, Greenland ceased to be a colony and became part of Denmark. The next 20 years
were characterized by attempts to modernize Greenland and to raise living conditions to
Danish standards. Among other things, this strong policy was used to try to encourage
Inuit to relocate from small to urban settlements, in order to stimulate the development of
commercial fishing (Petersen 1986). While these relocations were “voluntary”, i.e., they
were not conducted by mere coercion as in the Soviet Union, the question remains how
much choice the villagers had, since infrastructure investments in small settlements were
drastically decreased and channeled to towns instead (Petersen 1986: 272-273). The
significant urbanization which resulted from these policies led to a number of social and
psychosomatic problems. Petersen (1986: 278) believes that the Greenlanders were not
sufficiently prepared for the relocations and felt alienated in the urban setting.
A well-published case of Inuit relocation in Greenland occurred in conjunction with the
establishment of the Thule U.S. Military Base in the early 1950s. After Denmark had
joined NATO in 1949, the USA and Denmark signed a bilateral agreement for the
defense of Greenland, which became effective in 1951. During 1951 and 1952, up to
12,000 construction workers from the U.S. transformed a small weather station at Thule
into a military station for 6,000 soldiers. In April of 1953, the United States developed
plans to expand the base and locate an anti-aircraft gun emplacement in the immediate
vicinity of the Uummannagq settlement (Spiermann 2004: 573). The requirement to
maintain separation between the military compound and the local population necessitated
the Inughuit relocation, and Danish authorities ordered the immediate resettlement of the
25
Inughuit to Qaanaaq. Local Inuit residents (numbering 116 individuals) were given four
days notice to relocate 150 kilometers to the north (Traeger 2005).
In 1999, the Inughuit brought their case before the Eastern High Court and later the
Danish Supreme Court claiming that: (a) they had a right to live in and use the
Uummannag settlement; (b) they had a right to move and hunt within the entire Thule
district; (c) the Thule tribe was entitled to compensation for the interference with their
rights since 1953; and (d) each individual relocated was also entitled to compensation of
DKK 250,000 ($42,101; Spiermann 2004: 574). The relocation was declared to be a
violation of human rights by the Eastern High Court of Denmark in 1999 (Lynge 2002:
10). The high court ruled on November 28, 2003 that (1) a collective compensation of
DKK _ 500,000 ($84,203) be paid for lost hunting rights; and (2) a settlement of DKK
25,000 ($4,210) be paid for each relocated adult, and DKK 15,000 ($2,526) for each
relocated child more than three years of age. However, the Denmark Supreme Court ruled
that the Inughuit did not have the right to return to their traditional hunting grounds with
the removal of the United States military base. The Inughuit are currently appealing their
case to the European Court of Human Rights and other international organizations
(Fottrell 2004). The position of the Inughuit is that their human rights were violated when
they were refused access to traditional hunting grounds, and that their survival as a people
ultimately depends on their ability to return to their homeland.
Because follow-on court cases (of Inuit against the Danish state) have been occurring up
to present day, Danish-language publications on the subject are numerous (see, e.g.,
Brested and Fegteborg 1987, for one of the more influential Danish publications).
However, very few English-language accounts have been published. To our knowledge,
Lynge’s (2002) account is the only book-length English-language study of the Thule
case. Specific data on the effects of this move on the Inughuit culture or the impact to the
settlement at Qaanaaq were not given or discussed in detail in the literature. However, it
is possible to state the primary effects succinctly as: (1) loss of language; (2) loss of
hunting grounds; and (3) loss of identity and existence as a unique and distinct people.
The loss of traditional hunting grounds and loss of the unique knowledge of that ancestral
26
land correlates strongly with the inability to exist as an independent and distinct tribe
(Lynge 2002: 18). The Inughuit maintain that without their land, their tribe is vulnerable
to extinction.
Important and relevant aspects of the Inughuit relocation for the Shishmaref relocation
include: (a) the claim by the Inughuit that survival as a distinct people was dependent on
the right to return to traditional lands; (b) the overwhelming international attention given
to this court case; and (c) outrage by international humanitarian groups at the court’s
decision. The Inuit Circumpolar Conference’s news page featured a story about the
Danish Supreme Court’s decision highlighting their position of the decision:
By upholding the Eastern High Court’s ruling with the above mentioned
reasons the Supreme Court has stated that the people of Greenland and the
Thule tribe has a lesser legal protection than other Danish citizens in
Denmark. ...
At the present time, the people of Thule continue to be without their hunting and
harvesting territory that they claim is crucial for their traditional subsistence and way of
life. As Harlang put it: “It is very regrettable that the Supreme Court has not fulfilled its
duty in regards to ceasing the decision of the colonial era” (Harlang 2003). This court
case is interesting and potentially applicable to Shishmaref in its arguments that access to
ancestral lands is a basic human right upon which cultural existence is dependent.
2.4 Fennoscandia
The literature research did not yield much regarding documented relocation cases in
northern Scandinavia and Finland. The most widely publicized case appears to be the
relocation of Norwegian Sami associated with building a hydroelectric dam near Alta in
northern Norway during the 1970s. While the initial plan to relocate and flood the Sami
village Masi was averted, a scaled-down Alta Dam was eventually built, inundating large
areas traditionally used for reindeer herding. The existing literature (Dalland 1997;
Eidheim 1997; Paine 1982) focuses on the, only partially successful, political struggle
against the dam and the consequences for Sami ethno-political activism. The latter is
27
relevant because the struggle over the dam led to a new and positive phase in the
relationship between Sami and the Norwegian state, symbolized by the establishment of
the Sami Parliament in 1989. As one author put it, “we lost part of the water, but we won
back part of ourselves” (Dalland 1997: 55).
Another case touched upon in the literature is the resettlement of Karelian farmers, who
had been displaced by the cessation of Finnish lands to the Soviet Union. After World
War II, approximately 100,000 people relocated into areas of land clearances (Jaatinen et
al. 1972). While the above-mentioned article discussed agricultural developments
resulting from the move, it was silent about cultural impacts.
2.5 Relocations in Alaska
2.5.1 Overview
The published and unpublished literature reviewed indicates that up until the end of the
19" century Alaskan Native communities were primarily associated with territorial tracks
of land and sea, within which they were seasonally sedentary. The literature researched
also indicates that historically, native communities in Alaska have sometimes relocated as
a result of the introduction and growth of economic opportunities, such as commercial
mining and the establishment of canneries. Orbach and Holmes in 1983 reported that at
the beginning of the 19" century, some Aleut families and communities had relocated to
the Pribilof Islands with the Russian American Company to participate in the sealing
industry.
A major influencing factor during the last century that led to the relocation and
consolidation of many Alaskan Native groups was the establishment of government
schools for native communities in specific sites (Berardi 1999). Some of these schools
were located purposefully separate from “white” communities, in order to minimize
acculturative influences (Ducker 1996).
28
The relocation of communities in Alaska has not always been a process overseen by
government agencies. Early in the 20" century, relocations of Eskimo orphans and
willing families on the Seward Peninsula were led first by a Congressional minister and
later by a group of Methodist missionaries. The former located at Quartz Creek and the
latter at the Sinuk River. These mission relocation efforts, like their government driven
counterparts, had the intention of “Westernizing” and educating the local population.
Unlike other relocations on the Seward Peninsula, however, the expressed goal of both
mission relocation projects was not to consolidate villages into larger communities, but
rather to move Alaska Native people out of Nome. This is illustrated in the following
quote from Ray:
Locating a mission in a village unoccupied except for a Swedish
roadhouse proprietor, Carl Stenius, was an unprecedented move for a
national missionary society, but the project itself was unusual: the
relocation of Eskimos from various Bering Strait villages to a single
settlement where they would acquire American customs and the Christian
religion. But above all, it was conceived as a way to save them from the
evils of Nome (Ray 1984: 30).
Both mission-sponsored relocations eventually suffered from lack of provisions, disease,
and unforeseen financial difficulties. The Congressional mission relocation, planned and
implemented by one minister, Reverend C.E. Ryberg, lasted only one year (Ray 1984:
28). The Methodist mission relocation — envisioned by Sheldon Jackson and run by Mrs.
R. H. Young, secretary of the Bureau for Alaska Eskimos of the Methodist Woman’s
Home Missionary Society — lasted from 1906 to 1920.
Little is known about the effects of this relocation on the Native population before
influenza devastated the mission in 1920. The mission did not relocate a particular
community, but was an amalgamation of families from different villages. It is also
unclear what the tenure was for residents of the mission. Population of the mission varied,
according to Ray: “from a low of about sixty in 1918 to a high of approximately 117 in
1910. In 1920, after the influenza epidemic, it had been reduced to seven” (Ray 1984:
31).
29
The mission had two specific goals that were never achieved. First, the mission was to be
supported by a reindeer husbandry, from a donation of 100 reindeer from the Igloo herd,
given to the mission by William T. Lopp. The reindeer herd took longer to mature and be
ready for sale than anticipated. By the time the first reindeer was sent to Nome, the
market was flooded with reindeer and prices were low (Ray 1984: 34). The second goal
was to lure the King Islanders to permanent residency at the Sinuk Mission, which will be
discussed in chapter 3.
Interesting, however, is the initial impetus for the mission relocation projects. The
missionaries desired, above all, to mitigate the effects of incoming white residents on the
Native population. Their solution was separation. Ray (1984: 27) points out that not only
did Nome offer “new and tantalizing pleasures” but the fishing streams that had
traditionally been the source of food and economic well being for the Eskimo population
had been devastated by incoming miners. But most of all, it was the availability of
alcohol that the missionaries ultimately sought to stifle by the establishment of these
missions.
The literature reviewed also indicates that the relocation and migration of families and/or
communities in Alaska has been occurring in recent history and continues in present
times. For example, migration to urban centers is a growing trend among indigenous
peoples of Alaska, according to Denise Daniello (1993). These individual migrations,
however, do not necessarily result in cultural loss. Fogel-Chance (1993) and Lee (2002)
have demonstrated how Alaska Native women continue to participate in exchange
networks linking rural and urban spaces, thereby preserving aspects of Native culture and
identity.
Reviewed literature indicates that some Native communities have also relocated to other
rural villages, as well as to urban settings. Some relocations, such as the 1963 relocation
of Holikachuk to Grayling, provides information on the integration of one rural
community into another rural community (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001). Raymond-
30
Yakoubian’s thesis also provides a historical account of the decision-making processes
within the community that led to the move, and assesses the long-term consequences of
this move. This case study will be further discussed in section 2.5.3.
The literature also indicates that relocation of some Alaskan Native communities and
villages has also been precipitated by natural disasters, with flooding the most common
relocation-causing disaster cited. The accounts of Karluk, Allakaket, and Alatna provide
some information on such relocations (Management and Planning Services 1978; Kelley
Hegarty & Associates 1995 a, b). In all three of these cases, the communities relocated to
sites near the previous village site. Also, in the cases of Allakaket and Alatna, temporary
relocations of families to various other villages were required during the winter following
the flood. Community planning reports prepared for these three communities identified
steps needed to successfully move the villages, and provided suggestions on how to
assure long-term viability of the communities (Management and Planning Services 1978;
Kelley Hegarty & Associates 1995 a, b). These publications also discussed possible
scenarios for community economic development, as well as potential energy sources and
mining.
As is the case for Shishmaref, the researched literature also indicates that erosion has
become a major concern in recent times for several villages in Alaska. For example, in
January 2004, Newtok released a report prepared by ASCG Inc. compiling background
information on relocation planning efforts for the village, necessitated by advancing
erosion from the Ninglick River. One of the options considered for Newtok was a
collocation to Bethel, Alaska, a city that serves as a regional hub in the Kuskokwim
region, including Newtok.
Another natural disaster forcing the relocation of an Alaska Native community was the
1964 earthquake and the resulting tsunami that swept away a significant portion of the
community of Chenega, located on Prince William Sound. In 1964, Chenega had a pre-
earthquake population of 75, and after the village was destroyed by the tsunami, the death
toll was recorded as 23 (Lander et al. 1993). For two decades following the disaster,
31
residents from Chenega lived in other Prince William Sound communities such as
Tatitlek and Cordova while others moved to Anchorage (Chemavisky 1979, Kompkoff
1980; Selanoff 1980). In 1984, the community was re-established on Evan’s Island. It is
important to note that following the period of the Alaska Native land claims efforts
(approximately 1964-1971), there were hearings to determine whether Chenega qualified
as a Native village. This type of hearing was held by the Department of the Interior in
cases where questions existed concerning the validity of a group’s claim as a distinct
Native community. In Chenega’s case it was determined that, while they did not occupy a
distinct community or village, the people of Chenega did maintain their status as a group.
Today Chenega is a Native Village recognized by the federal government and a member
village of the Chugach Alaska, Inc. Region.
World War II proved to be another devastating event leading to the relocation of some
Alaska Native communities. The Aleut communities of Attu and Atka (see, e.g., Black
1984; Cueva 1995; Kirtland and Coffin 1981; Kohlhoff 1995; Prokopeuff 1981) were
most severely affected; their case will be discussed in section 2.5.2.
The literature indicates that a Seward Peninsula community - Mary’s Igloo- which had
gradually dispersed and relocated during most of the 20" century, has in recent times
attempted to re-establish a village within the tribe’s traditional homeland. The Mary’s
Igloo traditional lands (the Qawiaramiut) are located on the Kuzitrin River, one of the
major watersheds of the Seward Peninsula. Following gradual dispersion and several
relocations, most of the people of Mary’s Igloo have congregated in Teller.
At the beginning of the 20" century the people of the region surrounding and including
Mary’s Igloo saw their numbers decline greatly after two devastating epidemics; the first
in 1901 (influenza/measles) and the second in 1918 (influenza). Many surviving orphans
of this latter scourge were raised near Mary’s Igloo at the Catholic Mission, Pilgrim Hot
Springs. Other survivors were raised at the Lutheran Mission near Teller, now called
Brevig Mission. During the 1930s and 1940s, when Mary’s Igloo was still occupied,
another community comprised primarily of the Lutheran-educated Qawiaramiut
a2
established New Igloo, just a few miles away. With the decline of the reindeer industry in
the 1930s and the influx of military personnel at Nome, people began leaving both Igloo
areas. The abandonment was complete by the 1970s, when the last permanent resident at
Mary’s Igloo moved to Nome. Since this time, Mary’s Igloo has been used seasonally by
Qawiaramiut families for subsistence and recreational purposes.
Most Qawiaramiut now live in the community of Teller, while others live in Nome and
Anchorage. Beginning about the time of ANCSA (1971) there has been an ongoing
discussion among Mary’s Igloo people now residing in Teller about moving back to the
original village or establishing a new village near Mary’s Igloo. The reason for this
desired move has often been stated as: “needing to get back to the land” (Ganley 1996).
Studies were conducted in the early 1980s by the State of Alaska, and a site for the new
village was identified (DCRA 1982). However, the funding necessary for the move was
not made available from the State Legislature. Nevertheless, the desire remains among
many of the Mary’s Igloo people living in Teller to relocate and resettle in their own new
community, away from Teller and on lands still owned by Mary’s Igloo Native
Corporation (Ganley 1996). Apart from maintaining distinct local identities based on a
particular subsistence cycles, most of the Mary’s Igloo people also differ from many of
their Teller co-residents in their religious denominations (i.e., Catholic and Lutheran).
The relocation of the Kuukpikmiut people back to their traditional subsistence area on the
lower Colville River presents°a different type of relocation than those previously
discussed. During the 1930s and 1940s this group had relocated from their traditional
hunting grounds on the Nechelik channel of the Colville River to the larger community of
Barrow (150 miles away). This was done primarily for economic reasons, and so their
children could go to the Barrow school without having to separate from their families.
Although the majority of the Kuukpikmiut people lived in Barrow during the mid-20"
century, subsistence practices continued on their traditional hunting grounds.
In 1971, under ANCSA, the Kuukpikmiut “were required to resettle the former village
site to support their claim of historical occupation and use of the land, which was
33
conveyed to them through their village corporation” (Herschleb 2002: 84). In late 1972,
people who had traditionally hunted and/or owned cabins on the lower Colville River
(now called Nuiqsut) began to express an interest in resettling the former village.
Meetings were held in Barrow, and in April of 1972, 27 families moved by snow machine
from Barrow to the contemporary village of Nuiqsut. In order to resettle, this group lived
in a tent village through the winter of 1973-1974, before some infrastructure building
could begin. A school was established in one of these tents, and snow blocks were
constructed around the tent village for protection.
Today the village of Nuiqsut has 433 people, a median household income of $48,036
(Department of Commerce 2005), and has successfully emerged from the relocation as a
functioning resettled area. This case study, although rare, it is revealing. In this case, the
primary driver for relocation to Nuiqsut was the desire to re-inhabit a traditional
‘homeland’. Also, the relocation itself was conducted and carried out by those who chose
to resettle. Resettlement therefore was an internal decision and process, which today is
celebrated.
They [the Kuukpikmiut people] turned the frustrations of living in Barrow
into a desire to return to a life in which hunting and fishing would be
mainstays, not sidelines. This revival of traditional values allied older
people who wanted to return to their homeland and younger people who
wanted to experience Ifiupiaq social and cultural life themselves and their
children. ... The old history is still true the land is still primary and sacred
in the Ifiupiaq worldview; names and songs still identify the land. Home is
still the ancestral homeland (Brown 1979).
Unlike many other case studies reviewed in this section, state and federal governments
were not involved in the community’s decision to relocate, and the success of relocation
in the Nuiqsut case is unprecedented in the case studies discussed in this chapter.
Hershleb comments, “there is present in the village today a palpable sense of pride on the
part of the families that resettled the village in 1973, spent the first winter in wall tents,
and endured other hardships of building a modern village in a harsh arctic climate”
(2002).
34
The Nuiqsut case study also demonstrates the continual desire among Ifiupiaq
communities to be on their own land. As will be shown later with the King Island case
study in Chapter 3, following relocation the continual longing for home and the ancestral
hunting grounds remains strong, at least after one or two generations. This would likely
mean for Shishmaref, that despite a move to Kotzebue or Nome, state and federal
agencies could expect continual petitioning and action by the community of Shishmaref
to return to their traditional lands.
Based on the available literature, the case study of the relocation of the Alaskan
community of King Island to Nome appears to be the one most relevant to Shishmaref. In
1966, the people of King Island permanently relocated from their island home site to
Nome, after the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) had closed the school on King Island. In a
recent (2004) master’s thesis from the University of Alaska Fairbanks, Nicole Braem
presents the history of the move, and assesses the long-term effects that the move has had
on the community of King Island. This thesis also assembles a large collection of archival
materials from the BIA concerning the relocation of King Island. Together with Deanna
Kingston’s doctoral dissertation (1999), Braem’s thesis provides the basis for a detailed
literature review of the King Island case. It will be presented separately in Chapter 3,
which also incorporates interviews with King Islanders, conducted in 2004.
2.5.2 The Relocation of Attu to Atka
The relocation of Attu to the community of Atka is a relatively under-studied incident in
the middle of a tremendously complex episode of Aleutian history. Literature reviewed
about Attu is almost exclusively centered on the Japanese occupation of the island and
subsequent American offensive to retake the island. The Attu population, who were
interred at Hokkaido, Japan for the remainder of the war and later relocated to Atka
permanently, became a side note to both the military history of Aleutian occupation and
the American decision to relocate other Aleutian communities to other parts of Alaska.
Perhaps it is the obvious gap in the literature concerning the relocation after release from
Japan that provides a clue to how Attu identity was sustained through relocation.
35
Occupation of the Aleutian islands has been continuous for at least 8,000 years (Kirtland
and Coffin 1981, vol. 1: 3, Kolhoff: 1995: 4). The extended presence of the Aleuts on
their islands was not one merely of persistent survival but is believed to have been a
successful and progressive society built around the economy of fishing, hunting, and
gathering on the land and the sea. Kohlhoff writes:
Their knowledge of human anatomy, medicine, and mortuary science;
their complex spirituality, expressed in story, song, and ceremony; and an
elaborate practical and aesthetic artistic tradition were marks of creativity.
Rather than merely surviving, Aleuts enjoyed long and meaningful lives
(Kohlhoff 1995: 4).
This history was consistent throughout the Aleutians, including the island of Attu, the
most distant tip of the Aleutian archipelago.
In the summer of 1942, forty-three Aleuts and two Alaska Indian Service employees were
living on Attu island, 2,000 miles from the Alaska mainland, but only 650 miles from the
Kurile Islands of Japan (Kohlhoff 1995:5, Kirtland and Coffin 1981, vol. 1: 5). A school
had been constructed there in 1932, but no governmental education program was
consistently provided. The community’s economy was based on fishing, trapping, and the
new addition of a lucrative fox farming operation (Kohlhoff 1995: 6).
According to Kirtland and Coffin, the Japanese had little knowledge of American military
activity on the Aleutian islands, but presumed that military installations were extensive
from Dutch Harbor to Adak, Kiska, and Attu (1981). Despite losing the battle of Midway,
Japanese forces continued to have a limited objective of preventing American strikes
from the Aleutians and so Admiral Yamamoto called for an attack on Attu and Kiska
(Kirtland and Coffin 1981, vol. 1: 5). On June 7", 1942 the Japanese 301‘ Independent
Infantry Battalion landed on Attu, and captured the village (Prokopeuff 1981; Kohlhoff
1995: 70), and in September of that year, took the entire population to Hokkaido, Japan
for the length of the war. Attu residents were made to perform manual labor and
casualties during this period were high. Out of the forty-five people taken by the
36
Japanese, twenty perished, making the mortality rate for the interment 44% (Kohlhoff
1995: 180).
Olean Prokopeuff provides a first-hand account of the release from Japan and the return
to America:
We caught a boat from Manila bound for San Francisco. During our trip,
we encountered a storm, and we were told that we were in Alaskan waters.
We were hoping that they could let us off at Unalaska, but instead the boat
continued on to San Francisco. From San Francisco we took a train to
Seattle. From Seattle, we boarded the ship ‘Branch’, and later arrived at
Adak. When we were in Seattle, we were there for some time and it was
getting close to Christmas. We did not really want to go home, but we
were brought here. At that time, they dropped off many soldiers on Adak.
We were brought here from Adak in a small tug. I had gotten used to the
big ship that brought us from Seattle, and I did not feel very safe on that
small tug. When the tug arrived at Atka, a truck picked us up and we were
taken to the school. At the school, we were assigned to where we were
going to live. I was placed in Cedor's house. A year passed, then the
houses were built for us. Army Quonset huts were made for us to live in,
and we stayed in the huts for another year. Then our houses were finished
so we moved in. Since then, they have been our houses for a long time
(Prokopeuff 1981).
The sum of $2,358 dollars was given by the United States Government as Compensation
to survivors of the interment who were over 18 years of age. No benefits were paid for
those who had passed away, and the only child to have been born in Japan was given
$19.99.
The community of Atka, to which the Attu community was permanently relocated
following World War II had also suffered interment and relocation during the war.
Following the attack on Attu and Kiska, on June 12, 1942, the Navy began the demolition
of the village of Atka to prevent Japanese use of the village infrastructure (Kohlhoff
1995: 70). Beginning on June 13", residents of Atka were loaded onto Navy ships and
relocated first to army barracks in Dutch Harbor and then to various islands in southeast
Alaska where they remained for over three years before they returned to Atka.
37
During World War II, over 800 Aleuts were relocated and subsequently repatriated to
their homes. Perhaps it is the chaos that ensued with reconstructing villages and resettling
into lifestyles that shadowed the fact that residents of Attu had never made it back to their
home island.
Today in the literature the Attu relocation to Atka is only a footnote in this larger
historical event and no concrete reason was found as to why the United States
government decided against repatriation of the remaining 25 Attuans to their island, other
than the military infrastructure that was established, and the unexploded ordinance left
from the battle. The United States Coast Guard currently runs a LORAN station from
Attu, which is known as Attu Station with a population of 17 (Department of Commerce
2005).
Attu as an independent community has not survived in the same way that other relocated
communities survived. They were not granted federal tribal status in ANCSA and were
not given an independent village corporation outside of the Atka corporation (Atxam
Corporation). The strongest identity aligned with Attu today is the persistence of a
particular basket weaving tradition that remains known as the Attu style of weaving.
It is unclear in the literature whether a strong Attu tradition remains vibrant in Atka. The
community of Attu also does not today show up as a separate community in state records.
The literature tends to indicate that the twenty-five Attuan survivors have been mostly
assimilated into life in Atka. Given the destruction of community suffered by both
populations during the war, the reconfiguration of one community out of two broken ones
is understandable and not uncommon.
2.5.3 The Relocation from Holikachuk to Grayling
The case study of the relocation of the Holikachuk Athabascan people from their village
on the Innoko River to Grayling on the Yukon River in 1963 presents a different scenario
from any of the other cases examined in this literature review. First, the local village
council requested the relocation, primarily for potential economic benefits. Because the
38
causal agent for relocation was local, the responsibility for the success of the relocation
rested largely with the community. Second, the relocation was to a site chosen by the
community, where no other usable infrastructure or any other ethnic/tribal group was
located. Therefore, the relocation did not involve imposition on another ethnic group,
with the associated pressure for cultural assimilation.
At the time of Russian contact, the Holikachuk occupied the upper river valley of the
Innoko River (a tributary of the Yukon River), and the Deg Hit’an inhabited the lower
valley (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 33). Some Holikachuk people (now residing at
Grayling) recall Holikachuk fondly. As Raymond-Yakoubian writes,
It was a good place where good people lived. People lived there before the
negative impacts of white populations affected them. Supernatural powers
are often assigned to people at Holikachuk as well as to the place itself
(Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 142).
Epidemics sweeping through western Alaska from the middle of the 19" century through
the early 20" century, the influx of miners, and the creation of infrastructure instigated a
consolidation of multiple smaller “villages” or winter settlements from the region into
Holikachuk. School was held for the first time in 1931-1932, an Episcopal Church was
built, and the first priest arrived in 1954 (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 142). In the 1950
census, the population of Holikachuk was 653.
Reasons for the relocation of the Holikachuk to Grayling are a complex mixture of logical
decision-making and social positioning between two factions of residents in the village.
In a letter from the Holikachuk Village Council to the BIA informing them of their desire
and intention to move, and requesting aid, they listed several reasons for the move,
including:
e Cheaper freight.
e The high cost of moving each summer or making trips to fish camps and
back.
e Good creek water in Grayling and not in Holikachuk.
39
e Plenty of fish in Grayling.
e Fuel is difficult to get in Holikachuk.
e Gardening possibilities are good on the Yukon.
e The need for a new Native Store Building.
e The Holikachuk had a sawmill industry, and saw timber is plentiful in the
Yukon River Area.
Other reasons listed by Raymond-Yakoubian were that Holikachuk was haunted in some
ways, water was no good, and there was no fire wood. Raymond-Yakoubian notes,
however, that perhaps more important than these reasons was the strife among residents
in Holikachuk. At the time, a socially and economically powerful resident was at odds
with the village council, leaving the village council at a disadvantage when planning new
infrastructure in the community. This may have acted as a catalyst for the council to
pursue relocation (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 180).
The letter to the BIA requesting aid for relocation was written in May of 1962, and
preparations for the move were swift. A site was chosen at Grayling in June, the site was
surveyed for a proposed school grounds that month and clearing began in September and
October. In November of 1962, the village council president suggested that the village be
used in the Alaska State Housing Authority program and it was agreed (in February of
1963) that the Holikachuk move would become a pilot project for the ASHA. Lots were
chosen after surveying of the new site was completed and the move was well underway.
Interesting in this move is the participation of the residents in the construction of the new
site. During construction, there were few manual laborers brought in from outside.
Raymond-Yakoubian writes: “Most of the housing at Grayling was new and built by the
villagers themselves with supervision from ASHA” (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 186).
Villagers cut logs themselves for these houses, providing the raw materials. In total,
3,000 logs were cut (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 186). By 1966 the move to Grayling
was complete and on April 2, 1966, an official dedication of the village was held
(Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 188).
40
There was not and is not complete agreement among residents about the location of the
new site and some people were not pleased with the choice (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001:
191). Other residents would have preferred to remain at Holikachuk and relocated
unwillingly.
Raymond-Yokoubian notes the cultural changes that occurred for the people of
Holikachuk in the late 20" century, including loss of language, loss of traditional events,
and feasts. But these changes were attributed by Holikachuk residents to a general
westernization, not to the move itself. Television is cited as being a predominant force in
these changes (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 206). This is in stark contrast, for example, to
King Island, whose residents often cite the move itself as the catalyst of cultural change.
It is interesting too that Raymond-Yakoubian reports that the move itself is not discussed
regularly. In Holikachuk, only the older members of the community still discuss the move
to Grayling (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 209). This is in contrast to the King Islanders,
whose identity to some degree is based not only on past experiences on the island, but
also to the process and distinction of having relocated.
Raymond-Yakoubian notes that the economic benefits of moving to a less isolated
location led to greater contact with the western world and subsequently to increased
technology and decreased culturally-specific knowledge. She writes: “This has led to
unfavorable consequences (addiction, loss of traditional culture, etc.)” (Raymond-
Yakoubian 2001: 209).
Notwithstanding some negative consequences, the most noticeable differences between
the move to Grayling from Holikachuk and other relocation case studies in Alaska is the
ease at which it occurred, and the participation of the community in the relocation. In the
letter sent in May 1962, and in subsequent communications, the council made clear that
the village requested aid from the BIA, but that moving the village was not dependent on
outside help (Raymond-Yakoubian 2001: 179). It is also interesting that the move, while
unnerving to some residents, has not been a focal point of local history, according to the
41
literature. Although the move had consequences (outlined by Raymond-Yakoubian),
including increased enculturation, it has not been considered locally to be a major
contributor to cultural change. This is a major difference from other case studies in which
relocation is regarded as the instigator of cultural change.
42
CHAPTER 3: CASE STUDY —
THE RELOCATION OF KING ISLANDERS TO NOME
3.1 Introduction
The relocation of the Ugiuvangmiut, or King Islanders, from their island to the southern
Seward Peninsula hub city of Nome, Alaska, provides the most relevant example in the
reviewed literature of a comparative case study for Shishmaref’s potential relocation to
Nome or Kotzebue.
In her Master’s thesis (2004), Nicole Braem presents the history of the move, and
assesses the long-term effects that the move has had on the community of King Island.
Together with Deanna Kingston’s doctoral dissertation (1999), Braem’s thesis provides a
detailed literature review of the King Island case. Additional information presented and
discussed in this chapter concerning the relocation of King Island has been drawn from a
large collection of BIA archival materials.
Similarities between the village of Shishmaref and the King Islanders before relocation
include the following:
e Both are island communities, which have traditionally relied on sea
mammal subsistence hunting as a primary source of food, and to a lesser
degree on land mammals or fish.
¢ Both communities speak a dialect of Ifupiaq.
¢ Both communities rely on ivory carving and skin sewing as means of
income.
e Both communities maintain a strong cultural identity with the other
Ifiupiaq tribes on the Seward Peninsula.
e Both communities preserve the cultural traditions of Ifiupiaq dancing and
singing.
43
There are also some important differences between the two communities. Shishmaref
today has a population of about 600 people, while King Island, before relocation, had 150
people. King Islanders have had a legacy of traveling to the Seward Peninsula mainland
for subsistence harvesting of fish, greens, berries, and other land based products. King
Islanders also had important tribal alliances on the mainland under which they traded seal
mammal hides for dried fish (Kaplan 1988: 2). Shishmaref residents, on the other hand,
currently only travel to Nome for medical services, shopping, basketball tournaments, or
vacation, but do not have a tradition of going to Nome for subsistence or other traditional
Ifupiaq activities. Historically, Shishmaref has had no obvious ties to the Nome area.
Finally, Shishmaref has identified a preferred site on the mainland for relocation, whereas
King Island did not have a claim on other land at the time of relocation to Nome’.
Despite these differences, an assessment of the King Island relocation presents the
clearest parallels available for a predictive study of cultural impacts of Shishmaref’s
relocation to Nome or Kotzebue. This is an anthropological judgment that is apparently
supported by a number of local Shishmaref and King Island residents.
The remainder of this chapter discusses: (a) some background information on King Island
and the course of events that led to the King Islanders move to Nome (Section 3.2); (b)
the short-term effects of that move on the King Islanders (Section 3.3); and (c) the long-
term effects of the relocation (Section 3.4).
3.2 Historical Background
King Island is 40 miles west of Cape Douglas in the Bering Strait, south of Wales. It is
approximately 2 % miles in length and 1% miles wide. Elevations range from 700 to
1,196 feet above sea level. Sea ice surrounds the island for most of the year, preventing
boat travel. There is nearly no flat ground on the island, and much of the village site has a
45 percent grade (Braem 2004: 1).
? It should be noted, however, that immediately after the King Islander’s move to Nome, they did identify
Cape Woolley as a preferred site for relocation, though funding for relocation out of Nome never came to
fruition.
Despite the inclement weather and rocky terrain, King Island offered a number of
advantages to the traditional Ifiupiaq lifestyle. Strong currents made it an ideal place from
which to hunt the Pacific walrus, and accessibility to open leads in the sea ice allowed for
seal hunting. The island had a natural cold storage cave (gaitquq) that allowed for the
extended preservation of food. This gave protection against starvation that could occur if
harsh weather or unusual ice movements made leaving the island for hunting difficult
(Kaplan 1988: 29).
The boom of the Nome gold rush by 1900 provided further incentive for King Islanders
to travel to Nome in the summers to take advantage of the expanded economic
opportunities. This provided opportunity also for King Island men to work seasonally for
wages. Summer migration from the island to the Nome area has precedence before the
gold rush as a time to collect berries, fish, and other land-based subsistence activities; and
continued after the gold rush as a time to earn wages, seek medical care, and take
advantage of recently introduced western goods.
This migration in the early 20" century did not initially indicate the desire of King
Islanders for permanent migration to the mainland. This fact is highlighted by the
attempts made by missionaries in the early years of the 20" century to relocate King
Islanders to Sinuk, along the coast west of Nome, where the missionaries felt the King
Islanders would be safer from the vices of alcohol, etc. in Nome (Ray 1984: 34). These
attempts failed because the King Islanders had no desire to relocate permanently.
Starting in the 1950s, however, the island’s population began a gradual decrease.
Bogojavlensky links this outward migration from King Island to Nome to four primary
causes: (1) better access to health care; (2) a rise in infant mortality rates on the island;
(3) the introduction of boarding schools that offered post-8" grade education; and (4)
internal political struggles between the King Islanders themselves (1969: 40-42). In some
cases, Nome provided an alternative and easier home to widows and their children, as
was the case with the following King Islanders.
45
It was kind of harsh for us to live at King Island, so one time we, we
stayed behind at Nome. ... My mom thought it would be easier for us to
live at Nome (Becky Amarok 2004).
Another King Islander also said, “my mother couldn’t take care of four boys, by herself.
There, Nome was the easiest place to live” (Francis Alvanna 2004).
Access to health care was the major factor in voluntary relocation. At the time, there were
no health care facilities on the island. This was particularly disconcerting as tuberculosis
became widespread across rural Alaska in the 1940s and 1950s. Upon release from
hospitalization, many TB patients chose not to return to the subsistence lifestyle. This
decision was made both because TB recuperation prohibited heavy work (Braem 2004:
43) and because social cohorts for walrus crews were not equipped to handle the re-
admittance of crew members once they left. In addition, some King Island women opted
to stay in Nome because of the additional health care available for their new born
children. Bogojavlensky writes that the infant mortality rate — caused primarily by
epidemics brought by trade ships landing on King Island at break up — had killed an
increasing number of people, particularly young children (1969: 40). The Diary of the
Mission of King Island kept by Fathers Lafortune, Cunningham, and Carroll, has many
entries about the deaths of infants. Because of this high infant mortality rate, women who
were pregnant elected to stay in Nome in the winter for greater access to child care. The
social and political structure of the walrus crew was vulnerable to the lifestyle changes
that both TB and improved, non-local healthcare created. Kingston writes,
Because nine or ten men is the optimal number for a walrus hunting skin
boat crew, if a crew lost members because they were sent to tuberculosis
sanitariums, that crew would need to reconfigure itself with the men who
remained in the community, leaving no room for those men that left. Once
this occurred, men who were hospitalized in sanitariums then became
marginal to the existing political factions in the community. Thus without
any factional support, men who were sent away to tuberculosis sanitariums
elected to stay on the mainland (Kingston 1999: 186).
46
Another interesting drain on the King Island population was the effect the Indian
Relocation Act had on the community. “Under this act, several young individuals and
sometimes families relocated to Oakland, California, in the 1950s” (Kingston 1999: 186).
The above factors, taken together, led to the gradual decline in population on King Island,
causing a smaller enrollment in the BIA-run school. Smaller numbers of school children,
together with the difficulty and expense of running a school without airport facilities, and
a potential rock-slide that the BIA considered a hazard to the King Island school building
eventually led the BIA to close the school in 1959 (Braem 2004: 65).
The permanent relocation of the islanders to Nome (completed by 1966) is generally
considered a direct result of the closing of the island’s Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA)
school in 1959. Contributing factors to the island’s population decline were varied, but
local perspective maintains that it was the BIA’s decision in the late fifties that ultimately
decided the fate of the King Islanders. Kingston writes: “Whenever King Islanders talk
about their home, they always note that they do not live there any longer and when asked
why, they answer that the BIA closed down their school” (Kingston 1999: 184).
In the fall of 1959, most of the King Islanders decided to stay in Nome through the winter
due to the school closure. That year only 62 people returned to King Island, some with
their children. Oral histories reveal that the King Islanders were threatened with arrest if
their children did not attend school in Nome, but the extent of this threat is uncertain. In
April 1960, the church and mission was closed. In 1964, only 16 people returned to the
island. By 1966, the entire village had relocated to an area about a mile east of Nome,
their summer camping grounds in the first half of the 20 century.
Almost immediately after the King Islander’s first winter in Nome (1959), and continuing
for subsequent years, petitions were made to the BIA for a new relocation site that was
separate from the larger community and where access to King Island was feasible (Braem
2004: 94). The community chose a site called Cape Woolley (northwest of Nome and
south of Wales), and actively lobbied the government for years for monetary help,
47
particularly seeking funding for a school and housing materials, but to no avail. While no
serious lobbying efforts are currently occurring, the desire to relocate to Cape Woolley
still exists among some King Islanders (Braem 2004).
3.3 East End: The Initial Settlement
The area to the east of Nome where the King Islanders initially settled became known as
“King Island Village”, or “East End”. Homes in this settlement area were described as
“shacks” and as a “shanty-town” or “slum” in the literature. In fact, even in 1964 the
Association on American Indian Affairs used the word “slum” when referring to the
“East End” in a newsletter:
Stranded in slum quarters at Nome, 100 King Island Eskimos are seeking
Federal assistance to establish a new village at Cape Woolley, 45 miles
northwest. The world-famous ivory carvers were forced to abandon their
traditional home on King Island and move to Nome when the BIA closed
the elementary school in 1958. The children soon learned a lesson about
life in one of the world’s most appalling ghettoes (RG. 75, quoted in
Braem 2004: 151).
Initially the village had no electricity, running water, or garbage service. Homes were
inadequate for winter and the village area was too small for the number of King Islanders
who lived there. Discarded Gold Rush era buildings and World War II era Quonset huts
donated by the National Guard were used as homes. The King Islanders immediately
began to petition for a new village at Cape Woolley. When listing reasons for the move,
however, inadequate living conditions were not one of the reasons cited, and today King
Islanders still talk about East End as a place where community cohesion was possible.
In 1963, during a meeting between King Islanders and BIA representatives, 14 out of 16
King Islanders present testified that they wanted to move to Cape Woolley by a show of
hands. The three reasons given included: (a) abundance of marine mammals and fish; (b)
parents felt that problems with juveniles were increasing in Nome; and (c) self-
48
dependence and self-help. At the same meeting they stated that the only reason they
remained in Nome was because of the accessibility to the school (Braem 2004: 112).
The relocation to Cape Woolley never happened. Over the years some improvements to
East End took place. In 1974, a severe storm washed most of East End village away.
Following this disaster, twenty-five new homes were built for the King Island community
in the middle of town. These homes were replaced again in the 1990s through the federal
housing program. Cape Woolley today is still used seasonally by the King Islanders as a
summer fishing camp.
3.4 Long-Term Impacts of the Relocation
The literature indicates that the long-term consequences of the King Islanders’ relocation
to Nome are both positive and negative, as described below. It is important, however, to
consider the sentiments of the King Islanders when comparing their home island to their
new home in Nome. In this regard, Kingston writes,
The King Islanders’ experience of Nome and the disruption that relocation
to Nome caused in their lives is illustrated by their discourse regarding
Nome. In contrast to King Island, which King Islanders refer to as
“paradise” and “home”, Nome is called “Sin-City” is recalled as being
dusty and dirty, and is associated with other Natives’ opinions of them
(Kingston 1999: 192).
Inter-tribal Organization of King Islanders. The King Islanders, despite collocating,
never joined the local tribe, Nome Eskimo Community. King Islanders became an IRA
(Indian Reorganization Act) tribe whose organization was ratified by Congress in 1939
and they continue to maintain separate tribal status. Not only did the Village Council
remain intact, but the traditional political organization around walrus hunting crews, and
in particular the qagrit or men’s houses remained intact, at least immediately after the
relocation (Bogojavlensky 1969: 41). In ANCSA, King Islanders filed as an independent
tribe and established their own village corporation, apart from Sitnasuak Native
49
Corporation, despite BIA pressure (Braem 2004). Through ANCSA, King Islanders
selected land at Cape Woolley and King Island itself.
Unofficial organization as an independent entity also exists. In Nome, many of the King
Islanders continue to live in close proximity to one another. By August 2005, a
community hall for the King Island community in Nome was completed and in use.
Identification of families and/or individuals as King Islanders remains part of the
vernacular, fifty years later. In other words, Kingston writes: “other Natives (and
everyone else) must accept King Islanders living in Nome and elsewhere” (Kingston
1999: 196).
King Islanders are still considered part of an independent tribe, but officially and
unofficially, kinship ties continue to play a big role in conversation and interaction. Some
changes in regards to the detailed knowledge of those relationships have occurred,
according to some interviewees. King Islanders mentioned that the attention to lineage, a
prominent body of knowledge on King Island, is losing its prominence among the
younger generation.
And then we’re very relational people. So we have relationships and um,
we relate to people and in fact, if someone comes like, say from Saint
Lawrence Island, you know we ask them well, who’s who’s daughter or
who’s son are you. ... So [we] were very relational on that part of things
like probably is being lost (Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan 2004).
Another woman notes, “when they were on the island and for part of the years on East
End, you know, I grew up calling my teasing cousins illurok ... And then my children,
they don’t use those [terms]” (Bernie Alvanna-Stimpfle 2004).
King Islanders also still lament the cohesion between people that village life provided. It
is interesting to note that while East End existed, some of this cohesion was maintained,
according to people interviewed for this project.
50
Margaret Seeganna talks about how, on King Island [we] were a unit,
unity, they lived in unity, and it broke when they came to Nome. They
held on to some, and then, the 1974 flood destroyed, you know, the barges
destroyed the shacks, the homes, so they were then spread throughout
Nome. So that really lost some of that. ... For my generation, you know,
we were raised on East End, it was still a King Island community (Bernie
Alvanna-Stimpfle 2004).
Effects on Nome. The effects of King Islander’s relocation on Nome itself are difficult to
discern from available literature. One clear infrastructural difficulty during the beginning
of the move was the added pressure the King Island school children put on the school
system. Local newspaper coverage in the fall of 1959 ran the headline “King Island
School Poses Problem” (Braem 2004: 53). The editor argued that Nome’s school system
was already saturated, and that the influx of students from King Island would jeopardize
Nome resident children’s education. Comments concerning the problem with educating
King Island students were echoed by the Chamber of Commerce. Eventually the BIA
granted the Nome School District the money equivalent to the cost of running the King
Island School for three years.
Effects on the existing Nome Native community are also difficult to determine, and have
not been explored in any great detail in the literature. It is clear that hostile feelings
towards the King Islanders were a problem (see next section). Kingston attributes this
hostility to “special treatment” given to King Islanders and to the extra harvesting
pressure on fish and game in a resource-scarce area (Kingston 1999: 196).
Hostility toward King Islanders. There are written and oral accounts of conflicts between
the King Islanders and other ethnic groups in Nome. Some of the hostility from other
Native groups grew out of competition for local resources, including both monetary
resources and subsistence resources. The insistence of King Islanders to adhere to
tradition tended to escalate already difficult social relationships between King Islanders
and other Native Alaskans in Nome, this included wearing parkas, dancing, and the use of
skin boats (Kingston 1999: 196). Valerie Smith (1974: 6) suggests that King Islanders
were “largely invisible” in Nome, yet she also mentions their role in the tourist industry,
51
especially as dancers. This may have adversely affected their acceptance in the
community.
Hostility between the King Island children and other children at school seems to have
been a particular point of conflict. This conflict came from two directions: (a) between
white children and Native children; and (b) between King Islanders and other Native
groups. Divisions between groups of school-aged children were deep. Joseph Senungetuk
(1982: 117) writes: “When I moved to Nome from Wales as a child I was warned by a
fellow school friend to watch out for those ‘K.I.s’ whom all Nome school kids looked
down on, and who themselves ganged together for protection from other gangs”.
Shorthand slurs for King Islanders included “K.I,” or “villager.” The implications here
are similar to “provincial”. In interviews, many King Islanders attested to hostility in the
schools and among school aged children. “I don’t know where they were from, but ...
both white and Native kids, they would fight us, and that was the worse of [it]” (Vince
Pikonganna 2004).
Structured segregation was also common between Native people, including King
Islanders, and the white population. From the local movie theater to the Catholic Church,
division was evident. At St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, King Islanders made up the clear
majority of the Native congregation, but integration into the church community was not
immediate for King Islanders, according to King Islanders interviewed. “Well, the whites
sat on one side ... and the Natives on the other and it was like that through the whole
town” (Joe Amarok 2004).
Pointing out the hostility that existed is not to say that integration into Nome never
occurred between the King Islanders and other residents of Nome. There were, however,
long-standing divisions of social entities and identity. This division occurred throughout
the Nome society but was particularly harsh for King Islanders. “During those times, they
say now, that the King Islanders were at the bottom of the, like if you had a pole ... that
showed where people were, were at the bottom as far as how we were treated” (Marilyn
Koezuna-Irelan 2004). People interviewed reported that hostility towards King Islanders,
52
particularly King Island children at school, was common up until about ten years ago
(Bernie Alvanna-Stimpfle 2004).
While this, as the literature shows, resulted in conflict and problems, it also, strengthened
bonds between the King Islanders, and appears as a natural result of trying to maintain an
independent identity while simultaneously integrating with another cultural and social
group. Kingston writes:
In terms of “social disarticulation,” the needs of the King Islanders to be
both separate from and interdependent with other Natives and the
dominant Western society carry with them an inherent contradiction and
tension that cannot be resolved and which can only be balanced. This need
to strike a balance acceptable to the King Islanders, to other Natives, and
to Western society is constantly being negotiated, which can be a source of
“social disarticulation” (Kingston 1999: 197).
This negotiation is and will be a continual process, as long as the King Islanders maintain
a distinct and independent identity.
Health. While not discussed in great detail in the literature, or researched extensively,
King Islanders have ideas about how the health of the community was affected by the
move to Nome. The increase of alcohol use and abuse is discussed in the literature and
was addressed by King Islanders in the interviews, and will be shown here in a separate
section, but general health consequences of the move were also discussed during
interviews. There are generally two factors in discussing health consequences of the
move, which stand in contrast to one another. It was generally agreed that Nome had
better health care facilities, ie. a hospital. There was also some consensus, however, that
King Islanders were not exposed to as many illnesses when they remained on the island.
“I remember we never get sick on King Island... But when we go to Nome we get colds
all the time, I get strep-throat, and what else? Mostly a lot of colds” (Becky Amarok
2004).
53
Good health on the island was often attributed to a better diet and the exercise inherent in
island living (Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan 2004). One woman said, “She [her grandmother]
used to tell me make sure you eat Eskimo food because you being an Eskimo your body
needs to have Eskimo food. ... but these young ones right now, some of them don’t even
want to eat [it]” (Jane Darling [pseudonym] 2004). Another man agreed, saying, “We
were healthy back then, compared to today, as far as I’m concerned. Cause we were
eating nothing but natural foods, with no preservatives what-so-ever. ... It was all natural,
healthy, healthy food” (Vince Pikonganna 2004).
No statistics are available comparing health prior or post move on the King Island
community. In one case, a woman commented, that while the lifestyle of King Island
provided a traditional way of maintaining health and fitness, integration into a city made
fitness activities a cross-cultural experience.
[Before the move] whatever game we catch is very heavy so we’re
physically into, into physical things ... sports. So that was available and
maybe at King Island it would have been different for my children, you
know, they probably would have learned strength games and things that
help them to become strong in some ways, but because we were here in a
city setting, we got into taekwondo. ... That we took from other cultures
(Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan 2004).
Alcoholism. Nicole Braem reported in 2004 that during her interviews with King
Islanders in 2001 and 2002, the increased use of alcohol and problems with alcoholism
were the most cited effects of resettling in Nome. Braem pointed out that her interviewees
testified that it wasn’t the stress of living in Nome, but rather the widespread alcoholism
that was already present, and the legacy of saloons and bars that had sprung up during the
gold rush that took a great toll on the community of King Island (Braem 2004).
Alcohol abuse in Alaska, and particularly rural Alaska, is widely known. It is necessary
to point out, however, how the phenomenon in Nome is even more pronounced than in
other cities in Alaska. As Braem mentions, out of a $6 million city budget, nearly $1
54
million of that is spent in Nome cleaning up after overly intoxicated residents or visitors
(Braem 2004: 158-159).
Today Nome acts as the regional hub to all of the villages on the Seward Peninsula
excluding Deering. This means that transportation out of any village usually includes a
stop in Nome. People from surrounding villages often stay over in Nome to shop at
bigger stores, to eat at restaurants, or to drive on the road system. All these activities are
typically not possible in the villages. However, people also visit Nome with the specific
purpose of consuming alcohol. Many of the villages surrounding Nome have outlawed,
by popular vote, the sale or possession of alcohol. Therefore, coming to Nome, for some
people, is an occasion to drink heavily. This kind of heavy, or binge, drinking has become
a common phenomenon in Nome that is visible, habitual, and occurs every night of the
year. It is similarly common for people to return to their home village to “dry out”.
During an interview, a King Island woman highlighted this concept of “drying out” when
discussing a family from Shishmaref, and their battle with alcohol.
There’s a couple of families that were here in Nome, and their boys were,
uh, became alcoholics. ... Just started getting in trouble, and the mom
says, ‘we’re going back.’ And now the boys are doing good, and, um, her
sons haven’t been back since (Rudy Ojanen 2004).
Nearly all of the interviews conducted in conjunction to this study mentioned alcohol use
and abuse as a direct problem of relocation. “I think it’s hard for some people because we
have so many bars here in Nome. ... There’s a real tendency for people to get hooked to
alcohol” (Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan 2004).
Other problems are apparently linked to alcohol abuse. Braem quotes Cecilia Muktoyuk
in an interview from 2001: “Just like everything start to change. Like from alcohol, abuse
kids, abuse their wife, from alcohol. It’s very different, changed people” (Braem 2004:
158). Locally, alcohol abuse has also been cited as the reason people have failed to learn
traditional hunting methods (Braem 2004: 158).
55
Language Loss. King Islanders traditionally spoke a dialect of the Inuit/Ifupiaq
language, a language that stretches across the arctic and into Greenland. The King Island
dialect of Ifiupiaq resembles other dialects in the Bering Strait region, but is unique so as
to be recognizable as the King Island language to other Ifiupiaq speakers (Kaplan 1988:
30).
Oral histories reveal that on King Island, the Ifiupiaq dialect spoken remained the
language used in the house and between community members outside of school, work or
church. In the late 1960s, Braem reports that most of the King Island children were still
bilingual, despite their integration with monolingual English speakers in school (2004:
164). Today, however, almost no King Island children are learning the language, a
precipitating condition to language death in the next generation (Krauss 1992: 6).
Reasons cited for this loss include the use of English in school and the economic
advantages to speaking English well, and the inferior status associated with Ifupiaq in a
more westernized location.
It is evident that the westernized economy of Nome was conducted in English, but
English also began to be used as the ceremonial language for King Islanders in the
Catholic church. King Island had hosted a number of Catholic missionaries and priests
and, over the years, hymns and prayers had been translated into the King Island dialect of
Ifiupiaq and were, to some degree, localized. This wasn’t the case in Nome. “Mostly at
King Island they sing it in Ifupiaq, when we go to Nome they sing English songs mostly”
(Becky Amarok 2004). While the Catholic Church in Nome now uses Ifiupiaq in some
ceremonial songs and circumstances, the immediate loss of Ifiupiaq during the move, in
ceremony as well as institutions such as school and work, demonstrates the intrusion of
the English language into all facets of life.
The loss of traditional language is common to many Native Alaskan Ifiupiaq communities
in the surrounding areas. Whether or not King Island would have been able to continue
using the Ifiupiaq dialect had they remained on their island or relocated to an alternative
56
site away from Nome is unclear. While most villages on the Seward Peninsula have seen
the same kind of language erosion, St. Lawrence Island, which is geographically similar
to King Island in its isolation, has maintained its Native language better than almost any
other place in Alaska. It is likely, therefore, that the King Islanders’ relocation to the
mainland and then moving to the center of Nome hastened the trend of using English as a
first language. One King Island woman observed, “I think maybe these children still be
talking their own Native language if we had community” (Jane Darling [pseudonym]
2004).
Subsistence. Subsistence practices changed for the King Islanders after relocating to
Nome, as a result of both social and ecological circumstances. Nome is on the south side
of the Seward Peninsula, and shore ice there extends farther out into the Bering Sea and
does not have many leads, since it is not affected as greatly by winds, or by swift Bering
Sea currents. Without many leads in the spring ice, seals are difficult to get to from
Nome. Kingston writes: “King Islanders had specific techniques for hunting animals on
the moving sea ice, and generally had no luck trying to find seals to kill in Nome”
(Kingston 1999: 200).
In addition, polar bears, which live on seals, were not generally available from Nome.
Polar bears, important to the King Islanders for social reasons as well as for food, were
considered the most prestigious animal to hunt (Kingston 1999: 200, Braem 2004: 161).
Specific dances corresponded to the killing of a polar bear, and their lack of availability
in the Nome region has meant that the younger generations of King Islanders have likely
never witnessed the polar bear dance.
Traditionally, walrus were also heavily hunted by King Islanders on the island. The
available literature makes little to no mention as to the availability of walrus from either
Nome or Cape Woolley. Initially after the relocation to Nome, some families did return to
the island by boat for walrus hunting (Rudy Ojanen 2004). Oral histories report, however,
that walrus hunting is generally considered to have dwindled since the relocation of King
Islanders to Nome (Kingston 1999; Braem 2004), due mostly to the distance a hunter
57
would have to travel to get to the animal. When asked about walrus hunting grounds
around Nome, Joe Amarok replied, “Most of the time it was about fifty miles, between
forty and sixty miles and average about fifty miles from Nome” (2004). Because walrus
float north on ice floes in open ice during the spring break-up, it is necessary to be present
when the ice leads open for successful walrus hunting. King Island was ideally situated
because the men were ready whenever the leads opened up right around the island. In
Nome, however, open ice leads may be 50 to over 100 miles away. Most times today, by
the time the hunters reach open water, the walrus herds may have already floated by, thus
decreasing their opportunities for hunting walrus.
While not discussed in great detail in the literature, interviews conducted by Deanna
Kingston with King Islanders also reveal that a significant decline in egg hunting and
gathering of greens also resulted from the move to Nome (Becky Amarok 2004). In one
case, a woman interviewed said that her grandmother used to have to walk thirteen miles
to a picking spot because she didn’t have a vehicle to take her! (Bernie Alvanna-Stimpfle
2004).
As mentioned before, both ecological and social factors contributed to the change of
subsistence patterns. In Nome, not only was there greater human pressure on animal
populations than in the village, but state and federal regulatory agencies were more
stringent with enforcing hunting and fishing regulations. Shishmaref residents
interviewed often expressed concern about the increase in regulations and prosecution of
taking animals, and King Islanders attested to this fact. “There’s a quite a big population
down here and, uh, the people that manage the wildlife are, are looking for the violators
you might say, and where us we don’t consider that a violation, we figure it’s a dire need”
(Joe Amarok 2004).
Economic stratification also began to play a role in determining who, out of the
population, could hunt. In Nome motor vehicles (boats and automobiles) increasingly
became a needed piece of equipment for practicing subsistence, as both hunted and
gathered resources were located outside of the city.
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So, there’s a lot of difference between King Island and Nome. Where we
go, um, like Joe said, picking greens and men go hunting at Nome we have
to use car (Becky Amarok 2004).
. and that narrows the available hunters to those people that can
somehow afford a boat, a motor, a car, usually it’s a car to tow the boat
(Joe Amarok 2004).
Generally, subsistence lifestyles can be difficult to maintain, due to time constraints,
while participating in a western cash economy that revolves around full-time
employment. This is highlighted by one woman’s story of her husband wanting to build a
skin boat.
He said, ‘Mom, I’m going to build a skin boat.’ He said, ‘I’m going to take
off from work for one month.’ What? What? He said, ‘Mom, you’re
working, we won’t starve. Oh, you see, when I finish the skin boat all,
we'll go hunting.’ ... So, even though I didn’t want him to do it. He was a
plumber. ... I told my Mom, Joe [pseudonym] wants to build a skin boat
and I don’t want him to take off from work one month. And she said
remember when we were, you were going to get married we told you that
[you] are not the boss. Let him be the boss, so he took off and built the
skin boat. ... He built the last one after the flood (Jane Darling
[pseudonym] 2004).
The conflict here is evident that, in some real sense, King Islanders in Nome had to
choose between participating in a western economy or continuing a time-consuming and
weather dictating subsistence economy.
Identity. Attempting to understand and categorize the identity of King Islanders on the
island, in Nome, or elsewhere, is neither appropriate nor helpful for this study, but it is
worth noting the comments people made about the relation of identity and subsistence
and the effect of the move on the next generation of King Islanders. Talking about her
father, Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan says:
For him it was a very ingrained thing, for him it was like if he got off work
he went out and caught seals and if he was off on the weekends he went
59
hunting ... So to him it was like a very big part of who he was, so now
we’re in a transition now. It’s, it’s not as much as it use to be (2004).
The island itself, that is, knowing the island, was also an important part of being a King
Islander for Koezuna-Irelan in regards to identity and the identity of her children.
I know my kids are half Eskimo and half Caucasian and [I] tried really
hard that they knew that their culture being a King Islander was a very
strong, healthy foundation of who they were ... I made sure they had
opportunities to go to King Island itself because when you go there you
can feel your identity, just while you’re there, you could tell, um, how do I
say it in English, uh, you could tell that, you could feel, it’s like you have a
sixth sense you can feel acceptance of who we are (Marilyn Koezuna-
Trelan 2004).
King Islanders on Relocating Shishmaref. When asked, King Islanders offered advice
and opinions on the Shishmaref move itself, and often the response was vehement.
I would tell them without hesitating that the people have a right to say
where they could go, where they should move. ... The reason I say very
strongly is, um, they should [have] the right [to] move where they want
and whatever land area that they might have access to, close to
Shishmaref. Because they need to stay as a family unit, together, because
they, they’ve done [that] for hundreds of years, they’re like a family unit at
their village and they need to stay together like that in order for them to
survive because you know when you move into Nome where there are a
lot of White people in town, there’s a clashing of cultures (Marilyn
Koezuna-Irelan 2004).
When asked about whether he thought Shishmaref should relocate to Nome, particularly,
Eddie Muktoyuk Jr. said, “They shouldn’t. Otherwise they’re gonna lose their culture, for
the young ones like me. They’re gonna know where they come from, but they’re not
going to know how to do things like my mom and my dad in their day used to” (Eddie
Muktoyuk Jr. 2004). Another woman put it simply, “I know that it’s, some people are
forced to move from their home, that’s, going to break their hearts” (Jane Darling
[pseudonym] 2004). One woman realistically pointed out, “They will lose, no they won’t
[lose] all of it, but at least part of their identity” (Rudy Ojanen 2004).
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A point that was brought up only once, but is worth mentioning, is the fact that while
Nome has ‘better job opportunities’ than King Island or Shishmaref, Nome is neither a
‘village’ with a traditional lifestyle, nor a ‘city’ with ample opportunity.
The way I think is, Nome is a dead end street. ... They either work at
Hanson’s, at AC, [grocery stores in Nome], or at the hospital washing
dishes and bagging groceries, or they can get a degree in something ... and
see the world (Rudy Ojanen 2004).
This mimics a concern of Shishmaref residents that while there may be jobs in Nome,
there are no ‘good’ jobs for an untrained population. The result, as pointed out above, is a
population relying solely on low-paying jobs.
While the positive aspects of moving to Nome were not discussed in detail, the same
basic reasons that the King Island population was dwindling during the middle of the 20"
century are still acknowledged by the community today. These include better health care,
ease of travel outside of the Seward Peninsula, better job opportunities, and, “it’s a lot
easier!” (Rudy Ojanen 2004).
3.5 Conclusions Regarding the King Island Relocation
Attempting to conclude whether the relocation from King Island to Nome was “good” or
“bad” is complex, difficult, and dependent on perspective. Deanna Kingston, one of the
contributors to this report, a King Islander herself, and an anthropologist, says she doesn’t
try, and writes: “I am reluctant to comment on the relative success or failure of the King
Island reaction to social disruption due to displacement and relocation” (1999: 197).
There is no doubt that maintaining a functional village on King Island would have been a
continual expense for state, federal and tribal organizations. Likewise, it was clear that
migration from King Island for the mainland was already occurring, and the population of
the island was already decreasing prior to closing the school. This steady decline in
population highlights the advantages King Islanders already had perceived about living in
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Nome, such as better health care facilities, more employment, and access (eventually) to
running water and electricity. These advantages are present in the literature, albeit
understudied. Despite these advantages, however, King Islanders remember King Island
“with nostalgia” and “instill in younger ones [King Islanders] a longing for what they call
paradise” (Kingston 1999: 194).
In a sense, as Kingston points out, the continual construction of King Island as a lost
utopia is one way in which King Islanders have maintained a sense of identity and pride,
which has ultimately succeeded in mitigating the effects of relocation. Idealism of the
island is appropriate for social reconstruction of identity away from a grounded place. To
be King Islander today is to remember, to share in, a collectively imagined geography
that is grounded in the past, but does not necessarily precisely represent it.
This being said, the imagined utopia of King Island and the perception of Nome being
‘sin-city’ would not have entered into social memory without correlates to real social
problems. The integration of King Islanders to Nome, in the past and contemporarily, did
not happen ‘quietly’, or without serious changes in lifestyle and culture.
No studies in the available literature have analyzed the effect (socially, spiritually, or
monetarily) of alcohol on the King Island population, but local awareness of this social
problem is evident. King Islanders, having moved to Nome, have essentially given up
legal venues by which surrounding villages on the Seward Peninsula have been able to
locally control the use of alcohol. In other villages, by popular vote, alcohol use and sale
can be made illegal. In Nome, King Islanders have no such recourse through the law. This
issue highlights two important issues. First, that alcohol use in Nome was and continues
to be highly destructive issue with steep social and economic consequences. Second, by
being ‘a faction’ in a larger city instead of an independent entity, control over local
government, law, and their own surroundings is compromised.
It is also clear that integration did not occur smoothly between the King Islanders and
Nome residents. It is difficult to think of ethnically-fractioned societies as leading to
62
healthy communities, and social problems, physical violence, stress and more no doubt
were a result. The division, however, did probably allow the King Island identity and
social organization to remain as strong as it has over the last forty to fifty years. This
coincided with two particular circumstances. First, as Kingston says (1999: 196), King
Islanders were considered ‘backwards’ in the fifties and sixties, by use of skin boats,
traditional clothing, dancing traditions, etc. Second is that in the last twenty years cultural
revitalization has occurred all around Alaska. Nora Marks and Richard Dauenhauer
(1998: 69) note that, “many community dance groups have flourished in the last twenty
years ... [as] traditional regalia and performance are very appealing and are outward
manifestations of ‘the culture’”. Therefore, in the last twenty years, the King Islanders
(known as outstanding dancers and a more ‘traditional’ community) have had an
emerging social place and venue for some of their traditions.
This identity as “King Islanders”, despite relocation, is a profound testimony to the
ingenuity and strength of the community itself. Two examples of this are: (1) when a
young King Island boy kills his first seal he traditionally gives it to a widow of the
village; and (2) when the tribe insists on filing an independent ANCSA claim
(Kingston1999: 198). These types of cultural acts demonstrate a deliberate keeping of
self-identified tradition, an intentional assertion of identity, despite relocation. It must be
noted, however, that the generation of people who still remember life on King Island is
still living. It is unclear what will happen in the next two or three generations.
Subsistence practices have no doubt drastically changed within the community. With the
increased population in Nome, and the ecological conditions deterring sea mammal
hunting, subsistence practices have deteriorated. This undermines the particular
knowledge built up over generations of living on the island and this loss probably cannot
be understated. The importance of traditional hunting practices is demonstrated by King
Islanders’ insistence on hunting today (though more infrequently), despite hazardous
conditions. Today, to get to Cape Woolley in the winter or spring time before the road
system is plowed, community members must have snow machines. The trail to Cape
Woolley can still be long and treacherous. Kingston writes: “In the past two winters, I
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know that at least one man died of exposure and several other men had to have fingers
and toes amputated due to frostbite after being caught in storms on the way to Cape
Woolley” (Kingston 1999: 200).
What is also resolute is the King Islanders’ perspective on the move itself. Clearly there is
still a sincere desire, in some sense, for a resettlement to an area outside of Nome or
continuous use of the island. Despite efforts to mitigate and survive the relocation
process, resentment about the move still exists. For instance, Kingston’s maternal uncle,
Gabriel Muktoyuk, once asked her if there was any way that the King Island Native
Community could sue the BIA for shutting down the school. There is a general sense in
Nome that the King Islanders were somehow cheated out of living on their island. When
interviewing in Nome and Shishmaref about the potential relocation of Shishmaref to a
more urban area, people often responded with some version of “just ask the King
Islanders,” understanding that the King Islanders would testify to the negative impacts of
moving, and the desire to return home. On a recent call-in radio show in Nome
concerning the relocation of Shishmaref, a King Island community member called in
saying, “If I had had it my way, I wouldn’t have left King Island all together. I would
have stayed there. There are elders today who were born and raised in King Island,
wishing to go back ever since they moved here” (call-in KNOM April 2005).
The desire of the community to maintain ties to the island persists until today, and should
be an important footnote to the Shishmaref relocation project. This persistence
demonstrates that a) the sense of place and loss of ‘home’ identity is powerful, is
maintained through time, and is passed on to generations born outside of that “home”; b)
that this attachment and desire to return is a continuous expense at the community, state,
and federal level. The Nome Nugget reported on June 9", 2005, that King Island had
been designated one of the top 11, most endangered historical sites in the United States
by the National Trust for Historic Preservation (2005). The article reports that the King
Island Native Corporation president traveled to Washington D.C. recently to accept the
designation and stated that the Corporation is seeking grant money and funds to rebuild
structures on King Island and provide King Islanders with further means of returning to
their land for seasonal subsistence activities. Clearly the issue has not disappeared in the
last fifty years and it demonstrates that, should the village of Shishmaref be moved, a
continuous struggle and request for funding by the community for revisiting their lands
should be expected.
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PART TWO: POTENTIAL IMPACTS OF COLLOCATION —
CONTEMPORARY VIEWS FROM SHISHMAREF, NOME,
AND KOTZEBUE
66
CHAPTER 4: SHISHMAREF
4.1 Introduction
In Shishmaref, a total of 48 interviews were conducted with 54 individuals. The
information and quotes contained in this Section are used with permission. Everybody
interviewed said that they would prefer not to move to Nome or Kotzebue, although there
were differing degrees of opposition concerning the move. One woman thought that
moving to Nome or Kotzebue wouldn’t be good for the community in general, but said,
“I [personally] wouldn’t mind moving to Nome or Kotzebue, if we had to” (Annie
Franklin [pseudonym] 2004).
The majority of people interviewed considered Nome and Kotzebue equally bad choices.
Seven people interviewed said that Kotzebue would be a better choice than Nome, for the
following reasons:
e¢ Nome would be worse for the community, there are more problems than in
Kotzebue.
¢ Kotzebue is a more “cultural” place than Nome
e Kotzebue is closer to Shishmaref’s hunting grounds.
e Kotzebue is more rural and people are more into subsistence and cultural
activities (Ruby Jones 2004).
Only one man and his wife said that they would prefer Kotzebue strongly. One of the
reasons listed was again that the hunting grounds in Kotzebue are a lot closer to town
than in Nome, because in Kotzebue there is the same kind of game as in Shishmaref, and
because there are no bars in Kotzebue. It might be relevant to note that both interviewees
have friends in Kotzebue.
Seven people interviewed said that Nome was a better choice than Kotzebue, for the
following reasons:
e Nome is more familiar, because people travel to Nome often.
e There is no room in Kotzebue.
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e Individuals have family in Nome.
e Nome is cheaper.
e People in Kotzebue are not as friendly and Shishmaref people would get in
fights with Kotzebue people.
e One interviewee said he had been personally confronted by a Kotzebue
resident who said he did not belong there.
There was some mention of an old conflict between Shishmaref and the people from
Kotzebue, which seemed to influence people’s opinion of Kotzebue. Two elders told the
story about the Diomeders who went to Kotzebue and had their skin boats cut and one of
them stated “I’m scared about how those Kotzebue people are going to treat those young
people” (Eleanor Thomas [pseudonym] 2004).
To most people, the two options seemed to offer few alternatives: “People just don’t go to
Kotzebue but all they do in Nome is drink. So, both choices are bad, but for different
reasons” (Kate Kokeok 2004). Sometimes Shishmaref residents offered another way of
looking at the situation. “It’s not that Nome and Kotzebue are bad. It’s just I’d rather have
our community move, stay together [as] one community instead of joining [one that is
already established] (Octavio Sanchez [pseudonym] 2004).
4.2 Impacts on Shishmaref Culture
This section discusses potential impacts of collocation on several aspects of Shishmaref
culture, including: (a) language; (b) cultural activities, such as carving, sewing, dancing,
and festivals; (c) values and attitudes; and (d) religion. Discussions of potential impacts to
other cultural aspects, such as subsistence activities, health, and social structure are
presented in Sections 4.3, 4.4, and 4.5.
The potential impacts discussed in this section were the types noted by Shishmaref
residents that did not readily fit into other categories previously established in the study,
and included statements people made about their self-identified cultural system. Perhaps
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Edward Olanna (2005) best summed up these types of thoughts about Shishmaref culture,
when he said “this is the stuff that makes life bearable.”
4.2.1 Impacts on Language
“When the language goes, so goes the people”, said Albert Olanna (2004) during the
interviews. Generally, most people thought that collocating to another culture would
affect the use of the Native language of Shishmaref. People were concerned that the
Eskimo dialects spoken around the Seward Peninsula and in Nome would become
“mixed” and would eliminate the traditional Shishmaref dialect.
In Kotzebue they have a different dialect. In Nome they have Nome Eskimo and they have King Island and they have a bunch of people there in Nome alright from Diomede and Wales. We like to keep our Ifiupiaq
language more strong than what it is (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
I think that it would be harder for the dialect to be continuing on ... And
then when we get to Nome, the King Island would be, just my first
thoughts, it would be that King Island would dominate. Because they’re
the ones that have been in Nome and they’ve even offered courses at the University, Northwest campus, on-site in Nome with a King Island dialect
speaker teaching of course. That’s established and set up already. It’s not
that they wouldn’t welcome it, but, if we found we were trying to learn our
language, the resources we would have would be King Island resources.
.... People start getting sensitive about which dialect will be used and it
becomes less natural and more political about what [language] you should
or can or shouldn’t use. It doesn’t become we have to learn our language.
it becomes you guys are saying the wrong dialect, or you guys are using
the wrong words. It’s not a malicious thing, it’s just a cultural pride thing
that ends up happening (Mary Huntington 2005).
People were also concerned that moving to a place where the majority of people spoke
only English would mean English dominance over the Native language. However, a fair
number of people (about half of the interviewees) felt that traditional language loss was
not necessarily a major factor in the possibility of moving because younger people in the
village today are mostly mono-lingual English speakers. Some people who felt strongly
about language preservation mentioned the lack of Native language spoken in Shishmaref
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today. “Nobody our age even knows it, so that part [maintenance of Ifiupiaq language]
wouldn’t even matter” (Jen Smith [pseudonym] 2005).
It seems like if we did move there wouldn’t be much difference because
kids 35 and younger don’t know how to speak Eskimo. I don’t think
there’s a big difference, even if they go to school around here, because
there’s not a big difference in how we talk (Melissa Ningeulook 2005).
An interesting observation was made that people, including the elders, wouldn’t feel
‘comfortable’ speaking their language around strangers in a different location (Ruby
Jones 2004). In particular, the inability to speak Ifupiaq in Nome was a problem for one
interviewee, who said, “it might affect the native language in Nome because of lack of
community” (Lisa Stenek 2005). Also mentioned was that the church, where people still
sing in the Shishmaref dialect, would be mixed with other speakers, and so the dialect
wouldn’t be preserved in this ceremonial setting.
Ruby Jones (2004) mentioned that currently in Shishmaref, before public meetings, the
elders get together to discuss the business of the meetings in Ifiupiaq. Some interviewees
wondered whether this consultation session in Ifupiaq would happen in Nome or
Kotzebue, and thought that the existence of this meeting was essential for respecting the
elders and implementing their opinions into community decision making.
There were different opinions on whether Nome or Kotzebue would have more of a
negative impact on the maintenance and use of the Shishmaref dialect. Lisa Stenek (2005)
thought that there might be more opportunities to speak the Native language in Kotzebue
than in Nome. On the other hand, two elders mentioned that the Kotzebue people have a
dialect quite different from Shishmaref and that it is easier to understand people in Nome.
In the end, prospects for the Ifiupiaq language of Shishmaref seem to be bleak under the
conditions of a move to Nome or Kotzebue. Lucy Miller [pseudonym], who is 28 years
old but speaks Ifiupiag because she was raised by her grandparents, predicted that a move
would exasperate language loss, since “the elders around here still get to be around the
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kids and try to speak to the younger kids in Ifiupiaq (2004).” The same might not happen
in Nome or Kotzebue. As the fluent Ifupiaq speaker Nora Kuzuguk put it, “We would
completely lose it in ten years” (2004).
4.2.2 Impacts on Carving and Sewing
Shishmaref is well known for its carvers and sewers. Carving is a more substantial
industry in Shishmaref than in most of the other communities on the Seward Peninsula.
Shishmaref residents participate in this business both by carving and by working as
middle-men, distributing the carvings to other parts of the state. Sewers, mostly using seal
skin, also travel across the state to sell their goods, particularly at Native Arts Festivals or
at the Alaska Federation of Natives conference. Shishmaref also has a multi-use building
called the “Friendship Center” where people can go and carve among other local artists.
Many people mentioned that carving and subsistence hunting are closely related issues
because both depend on marine mammals that Shishmaref people hunt. So, the issues
raised in the subsistence section apply also to the availability of carving materials.
The majority of people interviewed thought carving and sewing wouid be affected in
some way. A minority felt there would be very little effect. The specific impacts on
carving and sewing given by interviewees were varied, but the themes listed here were
repeated often throughout the interviews. The most important issue is that the same raw
materials would not be available for carving or sewing in Nome or Kotzebue that are
available in Shishmaref, because of a depletion of subsistence harvests and the inability to
scavenge successfully for raw carving materials.
Some people also mentioned that materials found or harvested in Shishmaref were sold to
artists living in larger population centers. For example, Mollie and Al Grierson noted that
carvers from Nome or Anchorage get their carving materials from Shishmaref (2004).
Bessi Sinnok observed that both carving materials and Native foods are shipped out of
Shishmaref to other Native people in Alaska (2004).
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It was mentioned that seal skins from Shishmaref were in high demand from other sewers
throughout the state and Mary Huntington observed that seal skins were difficult to get in
other places (2005).
When Clifford Weyiouanna was asked whether the market for carvings would be better in
Nome or Kotzebue than in Shishmaref, he replied, “Where can you sell if you don’t have
anything to sell?” (2004). .
Several people predicted that alcohol would become a higher priority than carving.
People felt that alcohol would both diminish the quality of carving, and drinking would
replace carving and sewing as a pastime. Some people said that carving would be done in
order to get money for alcohol, and would lead to quick productions and lower quality of
work. Laura Wolfe [pseudonym] thought that at least half of the carvers would probably
stop carving if the community relocated to Nome or Kotzebue. This would be due to
alcohol which would be prioritized over a traditional lifestyle (2005). Likewise, Nancy
Kokeok indicated that carving and sewing would be lost because of alcohol and drugs.
Thus, the cultural arts would cease to be a priority (2005).
Although Elizabeth Shank [pseudonym] predicted that carvers might be able to make
better money in Nome or Kotzebue, she also felt that the carvers would spend their
money on alcohol instead of on gas (for boats and snowmachines) and shells for hunting
(2004). “That would probably be lost. Everybody would probably be drunks” (Jen Smith
[pseudonym] 2005).
Instead of the Shishmaref middle-men, storekeepers in Nome (or Kotzebue) would take
their place in distributing the products. Some feel, that while the middle-men in
Shishmaref trade fairly, the storekeepers would try to cheat the carvers by paying much
less than the retail value of the carving. Mary Huntington remarked that the shops in
Nome already have set prices, and that the art market is flooded, so that shops can buy
things cheaply (2005). Also, with carvers who are alcoholics, there is the need for quick
money, and so they may be willing to sell their work for less (Johnson Eningowuk 2005).
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It was a common understanding that storekeepers in Nome bought ivory carvings at the
lowest possible price. Melissa Ningeulook remarked, “They sell it triple price than what
we sell it [to them] for. There’s a real big chance that they can do that behind our back”
(2005).
Another concern was that jobs and other aspects of a more western lifestyle would not
leave enough time or room for carving. Tony Weyiouanna, Sr., also mentioned that there
would be a greater influence of Western ideas and techniques (2004). Johnson
Eningowuk said that the quality of Shishmaref carvings might go down because people
will want to hurry and make money (2005).
Finally, the question of the cultural meanings behind the carvings was posed. John
Sinnok, the bilingual and cultural teacher who instructs a lot of the carvers, had the
following to say:
Take a look. A lot of the work I do, we do, represents the things that we do in this community. That’s a seal retriever. That’s something that’s part of
our life. That’s something that happens here. That fishing lady, that’s another important thing that we do, we fish. Another one that I’m working
on right now is a lady dancing. I think no matter where you go, if you’re a carver, you learn to adapt to different things to carve. But at the same time,
for many of us that are older anyways, a lot of our carvings are of things that have happened to us in our lifetime. And if we do happen to move to Kotzebue or Nome, or another established community, we would probably duplicate what we see there. So the values and beliefs and stuff like that would change. That one over there that I’ve started is a drum, but if you
take a look at it, it is also a raven, in the middle of the raven there’ll be a human face. And that represents transformation and that’s using our culture which we have known to represent how our people used to change
into the animal form, a lot of times, using the drum. So, these are the
things that nobody else would carve or nobody else would understand if they never have lived here. I understand because of how things were when
I was young. So, yeah, our carving would probably continue, but there’d
be no meaning behind them (John Sinnok 2005).
Stacey Stasenko and Mary Huntington brought up the issue of “copyright” regarding
carving and sewing. While there is no formal copyright, there has been always been an
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understanding of who “owns” certain traditions (2005). The increased interaction with
other carvers might lead to more diluted styles or to a kind of jealous protection of
patterns and styles (John Sinnok 2005).
So, while most people think that there would be a continuation of sewing and carving as
Lisa Stenek put it, people will keep carving because they need to earn money, the cultural
value of the carvings might suffer (2005). Apart from problems with raw materials, other
infrastructural variables might play a role. Annie Obruk thought that the effects on
carving will depend on whether there would be another place like the Friendship Center
(2004). But there are also more dire predictions, such as Lucy Miller’s [pseudonym]
statement, “I just don’t think it would really pass down.” (2004).
4.2.3 Impacts on Dancing
Dancing did not seem to be a major concern among people, when predicting cultural
consequences of collocating to Nome or Kotzebue. Carving, subsistence, alcohol, etc.,
were much more discussed. However, the vulnerability or stability of the Shishmaref
dancing tradition highlights how small changes during relocation might affect cultural
traditions in both the short and the long term.
Opinions about the viability of dancing in a different community were varied. Some
people definitely thought Eskimo dancing would not be affected by the move. Some
thought that the increase of tourism and other dance groups might help the Shishmaref
dancers. Some people felt that the revitalized dancing tradition would not be susiainable
in Nome or Kotzebue.
Eskimo dancing was recently reestablished in Shishmaref, mainly through the efforts of
Mary Huntington, who continues to be the exclusive dance leader in the community. She
refuses to move to Nome or Kotzebue. Without her, the dancing tradition particular to
Shishmaref would probably be vulnerable. Huntington, however, mentioned that perhaps
Shishmaref people could participate in other Eskimo dance groups in Nome or Kotzebue,
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where dancing traditions are well established. This, however, could be considered
intrusive, and might cause other problems as well.
Both Nome and Kotzebue have pretty well established (singing, drumming, and dancing) groups. And we wouldn’t really be able to go in and just join. We would still want to hold onto being who we are anyway. But we’re probably going to be so fragmented and worried about other things that that wouldn’t get started right away. By the time we did, it would probably be more of a struggle than where we’re at right now
(Mary Huntington 2005).
There are some potential concerns about identity that come with joining a different tribal
or cultural dancing group, as Huntington points out. Each community has different dance
styles and so Huntington predicts that even if the Shishmaref people did dance with other
Seward Peninsula tribes, that eventually they would have the desire to dance only with
Shishmaref people, in the Shishmaref tradition. But after the move, and after a time of
significant change to the population, this might no longer be possible. If the Shishmaref
dancing tradition was halted for enough time, the particular style of dancing might be lost
permanently.
A practical concern expressed by some residents was that there would need to be a public
building or community meeting place where dancing could be practiced and performed.
Bessi Sinnok asked, “Is that community going to provide for us, and allow us to be our
own community within that community?” (2005). She pointed out that in Shishmaref
there are gathering places available for cultural activities, but is concerned that in Nome
or Kotzebue there would be no space available for Shishmaref exclusive events.
4.2.4 Impacts on Festivals
Although we did not ask specifically about celebrations and community feasts, several
Shishmaref residents mentioned possible ways in which these activities might be affected
by a move. These main events include 1) Christmas, 2) birthday parties, 3) the
Shishmaref Carnival, 4) the Lutheran Church Conference.
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Christmas is a week-long affair in Shishmaref. While Christmas seems like a very
westernized celebration, in Shishmaref it takes on a very distinct character. First, there is
no extensive use of the Santa Claus figure. There are funny stories in the village about
people being afraid of Santa Claus, so he is not used, kids do not get presents from him
on Christmas morning, etc. Instead, the potlatch tradition is very much alive during the
Christmas week. First, gift exchanges are between everyone in the community and are
done by drawing names out of a hat. Community dinners are attended, and games are
played, not just by kids (as one consultant pointed out, this is the case in bigger
communities, such as Nome) but the adults participate in races, Eskimo games, dog
mushing races, etc. The week-long celebration has a particular order and activities take
place on certain days throughout the week.
In Anchorage they have New Years Eve. Is the day they have their Christmas week basically. They try to cram what we do all week in that one evening. Which is still good and fun, but even there, they pretty much
get to the point where it’s largely the kids that do it. Which is how it is all the time anyway, it’s always the kids who get to do everything. Here it’s not for the kids, cause they have everything else going on all the time. But
the games are for the adults. But by the time we get to a place like that,
we're going to start dealing with not enough time, so you’re going to start
incorporating rules like NYO [Native Youth Organization] and WEIO
(World Eskimo Indian Olympics], where you say you get three tries and that’s it. Here it’s still traditional. You go till you think you can’t go anymore. Use your judgment. And they guide you, and tell you, if you’re
not going to win, don’t overdo it. So, we don’t have to say, you get three shots and that’s it... like they do at larger places. Those kinds of activities
lose a lot of their essence (Mary Huntington 2005).
Birthday parties, like Christmas, are unique in their abundance and involvement of the
entire community. Parents who organize birthday parties for children are expected to lay
out an enormous feast of both western and Eskimo foods. At one birthday party the
researchers attended, a trip to Nome had been made to purchase two enormous sheet
cakes from the bakery. These parties were mentioned by many people as being unique to
Shishmaref and being very special, highly public events.
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Just, I mean, you know, our birthday parties would change. We would have T.V. birthday parties where you rent out the rec center for an hour or whatever and get together with kids. You wouldn’t invite the community,
everybody from town, to come over and have cake and pie and berries. You would do the little wimpy cake and ice-cream and berries. That’s the problem I had when I was in Anchorage. I did not want to give my kids, we moved here when my son was four months old so we didn’t have to... But I did not want to give my son a Chuckie Cheese party. Where you have kids playing, just cake, ice cream and juice. You know, I wanted the
whole works, Eskimo ice cream, berries, jello, cake, pies ... and community. Because our older relatives would come anyway, but we
would have to watch the kids, so we wouldn’t even still visit that much. That’s just a different setting, different mindset, it’s not a community
(Mary Huntington 2005).
The Shishmaref Carnival happens annually in the spring. It is centered around dog-
mushing races and a basketball tournament. People from all over the Seward Peninsula
and even as far as Anchorage or Fairbanks attend the Carnival. As Huntington (2005)
said, “we wouldn’t have carnival, we would be joining in Nome’s activities.”
Similarly, the Lutheran Church Conference occurs once every two years. It is expected
that Shishmaref residents provide lots of food, decorations, and housing space for the
conference. The men hunt caribou for soup, the women get out berries, and sew banners
for the event. Again, people from the Lutheran Church on the Seward Peninsula and
around the state attend.
These feasts mentioned frequently, were acknowledged by Shishmaref residents to take
place in other areas, such as Nome and Kotzebue but it was just as generally accepted that
in the bigger areas the events were watered down. The Nome Fire Department also hosts
a carnival the first Saturday of December. This event, comprised of raffles, carnival
games (cake walk, pop a balloon with a dart, bingo, etc.) is exciting, but vastly different
than the Shishmaref carnival. While villagers come into Nome for the Fireman’s
Carnival, stay at hotels, and take their kids to have a good time; it is unlike the
Shishmaref celebration where the community must very literally play host to visitors.
Also, the New Years celebration in Nome is a scaled down version of the Shishmaref
Christmas week. In both cases, community members from Shishmaref said that in
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Shishmaref these events are community oriented, community driven, and that the entire
community participates in them, while in Nome (Anchorage and Kotzebue) these events
are geared towards children only. Fear was expressed that these events would not be as
community oriented in a bigger population, and that the same intimacy would not be
attached to them. Kate Kokeok, when talking about the festivals and celebrations in
Shishmaref, mentioned that there are dog-races and that the Christmas/Thanksgiving
activities are particular to Shishmaref and could not happen in Nome or Kotzebue. Even
the activities following a wedding - when the whole community goes and starts yelling
outside of the bride and groom’s house and carry the groom around on their shoulders,
and when the new couple has to throw candy at the crowd before they go away — are
specific to Shishmaref (2004).
While nobody would forbid the people of Shishmaref to continue to celebrate their
festivities in their traditional style, a multi-ethnic environment may nevertheless result in
cultural changes.
And when we’re in bigger communities we have to do things in a way
where people feel included, and we’re not isolated. You have to be
respectful and open to others who are not Shishmarefmiuts, I guess. And
so it modifies your traditional activities in a way that it’s not quite as good
(Mary Huntington 2005).
4.2.5 Impacts on Cultural Values
The following paragraphs discuss observations made by people in Shishmaref about the
cultural values and attributes of their community. While generally less tangible than other
issues treated in this section, these observations merit attention as they were repeated in
more than one interview. One such observation was that Shishmaref is a ‘friendlier’ place
than other areas and characterized the atmosphere as ‘trusting’. For example, Helen
Sockpick stated, “we always leave our doors open, I don’t think we’d leave our doors
open in Nome or Kotzebue, huh?” (2005). Nora Kuzuguk added, “yeah, we’d lock them
real good” (2005).
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A major concern was that this characteristic friendliness would be compromised if the
residents of Shishmaref were relocated to a larger community.
Everyone says this is nice and a friendly place. If we move to Kotzebue or Nome, they’ll be mixed people and, um, that’s where we’re going to lose our culture, our values, our friendliness, because people will be watching other people do other things, probably learning how to do things that we don’t do here, probably like a lot of breaking in or alcoholism or lots of
drugs that we don’t see in our little community (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
Percy Nayokpuk remarked that the current image of Shishmaref as a vibrant, energetic,
and friendly place wouldn’t last (2004). Nancy Kokeok added that she does not think the
community could successfully relocate because they would lose everything (2005). In the
words of Jimmy Seetomona, “if they move us there, we wouldn’t have no more culture”
(2004).
Being ‘friendly’ and ‘trusting’ are not the only values associated with Shishmaref.
Stanley Tocktoo stated “you never go hungry in Shishmaref’ (2005). John Sinnok
mentioned that the tradition of caring for the land and cleaning it, and being on it had
been passed through generations and that that could be lost (2005). One man pointed out
that automobile travel would significantly change basic cultural patterns of travel and
Albert Olanna said that cars (like there are in Nome) would change their way of life
(2005).
I don’t think they can ever put a figure on the cultural impacts, yet it is the biggest issue in us having to move because we really rely on subsistence and cultural activities so heavily. To us, it’s our way of life and there’s nothing that can amount to that. We’ve been doing it forever (Lucy Miller
[pseudonym] 2004).
Bessi Sinnok noted that in Shishmaref there is more freedom than in Nome or Kotzebue
(2004). She also mentioned that lots of people ask why the people of Shishmaref put up
with the honey bucket, and the expensive food and limited shopping. The reason is the
larger degree of freedom in Shishmaref. “We can almost do whatever we want here, and
we enjoy it” (Bessi Sinnok 2004).
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A few people mentioned how relocation would lead to a change of values. Ruby Jones
pointed out that moving to town, i.e. to a bigger community, would change the values of
the people of Shishmaref. Richard Stasenko specified that “Nome is a different culture.
It’s a different cultural setting” (2005). He compared moving to Nome to an immigrant
situation, where people eventually lose their traditional culture.
Some respondents linked loss of culture and an increase of social problems and criminal
activities. Kelly Eningowuk said that “culture and tradition play a huge part whether you
end up in the criminal justice system” (2004), and identified social problems as a
consequence of cultural loss. Morris Kiyutelluk diagnosed that “moving to Nome would
eventually let the Shishmaref culture and values be lost as substance abuse would
certainly become practiced” (2004).
One male consultant also mentioned the loss of historical knowledge that would result
from a move. This would also result in a loss of identity. He feels a lot of pride in being
from Shishmaref and, although some people take that as being offensive, he considers
that attitude not as being offensive.
Quite a few people were worried that the Shishmaref ‘identity’ as such would be
threatened.
Our grandparents, our mothers and fathers, and now us — how we take care
of our food, how we respect our land, clean it, and make sure that it’s there
in the future for us to use again. ... Like I alluded to earlier, our beliefs
and things that are important to us are here. They’re not over there in
Kotzebue and Nome. The people there have different, well, there’s a
certain amount of cash that we use here. But those places be more for cash,
way of living with cash. Versus here where we subsist off the land a lot
and use a very little amount of cash to survive. Especially since we don’t
do this just for the immediate family, but for my sisters, my uncles, my
aunts and other people that are around our neighborhood to share with. ...
I even heard in the news the president went over to Iraq and took Saddam
out of Iraq and now it’s very important for him and the world that Iraq
takes over their country because it’s their culture and they want to keep it
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that way. It’s the same way here, even though it’s a small community. We
want to keep our culture, it’s a completely different culture than anywhere
else. So, things like that (John Sinnok 2005).
Identity in Shishmaref is thus not only tied to a specific community of people but also to
a specific place; to be from Shishmaref is a place-based identification.
We are very village-centric here. Very village-centric here. To the extreme
almost. Shishmaref people are Shishmaref people and very proud to be
Shishmaref people. We’re real strong-headed people. I can’t even think of
examples because it’s just a given (Mary Huntington 2005).
4.2.6 Impacts on the Church and Cemetery
The Lutheran Church is the only religious denomination officially represented in
Shishmaref and most residents belong to it. As several consultants pointed out, there is no
Lutheran church in Kotzebue (although there is one in Nome). The Lutheran church in
Shishmaref is also a central social gathering place and is very much wrapped up in the
identity of Shishmaref.
An additional concern was that people did not want to be buried outside of Shishmaref,
away from their relatives who had passed away before them. As one male consultant put
it, “my mom is buried here. I want to be buried here. I don’t wani to be laid to rest with
strangers I don’t know.”
4.3 Impacts on Shishmaref Subsistence Practices and Lifestyles
Our studies among the Athabaskans and Eskimos clearly indicate a
commitment to subsistence. This is partly because of a need for Native
foods, partly because of a desire to continue an accustomed lifestyle, and
partly because of cultural and personal association with living from the
land. ... The prime avenue to satisfaction and prestige is through providing
resources from the environment. This is the deepest and most pervasive
theme of life (Nelson et al. 1982: 294).
The potential impact on subsistence practices and subsistence ‘way of life’ was by far one
of the leading concerns among people from Shishmaref about relocation to Nome or
Kotzebue. Subsistence is understood both as a means of procuring resources directly from
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the land, and as a way of life — including the knowledge of how to harvest the land and
resources safely, the flexibility to leave home (or job) when game is near or plants/berries
are in season (see chapter 7), and the ability to process the food oneself and store it for
future use. When understanding potential impacts to subsistence practices, all facets of
the subsistence lifestyle must be taken into consideration. To this end, this chapter will
not focus merely on continued availability of animal species in Nome or Kotzebue, but
the perception of the residents of Shishmaref on how changes in many different areas of
life might alter the ability to live a subsistence lifestyle. For this section, the researchers
only asked general questions about the impact of moving on “subsistence.” The responses
described in the following chapter were themes that emerged from the interviewees
themselves.
It should be pointed out that when people talked about relocation and its effect on
subsistence, the distinction was made between potential impacts of relocation to Nome
and relocation to Kotzebue. However, many people discussed relocation to Nome in
greater detail than relocation to Kotzebue. As explained before, the main concern people
had about relocating to Kotzebue was sheer unfamiliarity with the area. Moving to Nome,
while not desirable, was conceivable.
4.3.1 Animal and Plant Availability in Nome and Kotzebue
Large animals hunted in Shishmaref include musk ox, caribou, ugruk (bearded seal), seal,
walrus, whale, moose (when available). Fish, birds, ducks, and other species are also
hunted and/or trapped. Opinions of Shishmaref residents on animal availability in Nome
or Kotzebue were mixed. Most of the animals available in Shishmaref were said to also
be available in Kotzebue. Joe Brown [pseudonym], who strongly advocated a move to
Kotzebue over Nome (but preferred to stay in Shishmaref), said that often Shishmaref
hunters travel nearly to Kotzebue for sea mammal hunting. He and other interviewees
testified that Shishmaref people would definitely be more familiar with the animals and
the land around Kotzebue rather than Nome (2005).
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There was concern that the shore ice would move out earlier in Kotzebue, making walrus
and ugruk hunting more difficult.
I don’t know about ice conditions because we have lots of west wind.
That’s when the ice goes in. If you go to Kotzebue. you’ll be jammed in
with ice block and you won’t be able to get out to the ocean to access your
sea mammals. But when the east wind comes it’s all opened up the ice
(Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
The large sea mammal hunts that make up a large portion of subsistence hunting in
Shishmaref are dependent on the stability of the sea ice. In Nome and Kotzebue both, the
ice pack breaks up earlier than off the coast of Sarichef Island. This, people predicted,
would have a dramatic affect on the ability to harvest these animals. This is verified by
the King Islander experience, who also relied heavily on walrus and ugruk (see chapter
3). The inability to hunt walrus in Nome was a prime concern among members of the
King Island community. Shishmaref residents were also concerned about the lack of
seals, ugruks, ducks and birds in Nome. There was also the belief that, given the
diminishing population of moose and salmon in Nome, that there would generally be
difficulty in procuring these foods, and that this would cause hostility among hunters and
fishers already living in Nome.
Shishmaref is generally considered to be more ‘traditional’ than other communities,
which is directly tied to the frequency of subsistence harvesting and a diet made largely
of subsistence food. Given that, around the contemporary village there is, “a large hunting
area with a small amount of people” (Rueben Weyiouanna 2005), Shishmaref residents
are able to hunt year-round, hunt a variety of species, without overburdening resources.
Interviewees felt this would not be the case in Nome or Kotzebue. Many people were
concerned that if Shishmaref were to relocate, the additional hunting pressure of a 600-
person, subsistence-oriented community would put too much hunting pressure on animal
populations in Nome and Kotzebue.
The depletion of subsistence resources that would happen in Nome or
Kotzebue is the main reason | don’t think relocation should happen. In the
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long run we’d be looking at starvation because subsistence foods won’t be there (Edward Olanna 2005).
Many people expressed the concern that, even if animal resources are available in the
vicinity of Nome or Kotzebue, over the long term, the added pressure on animals from
Shishmaref hunters plus existing hunters would not be sustainable. One man even
commented that adding an additional 80 hunting boats in Nome or Kotzebue would
change the migration patterns of the animals (Frank Ongtowasruk 2005).
Particularly disconcerting to a number of women interviewed was the lack of
salmonberries in Nome. Salmonberries are the most frequently harvested berry in
Shishmaref, and are a very important traditional food during times of celebration and for
making agutuk (Eskimo ice cream.). Salmonberries are prevalent over other berries in the
Shishmaref area, which is unusual in Alaska, and are highly valuable across the state.
When (other) people talk about picking berries they’re talking about
blackberries, blueberries, cranberries and whatever other berries. When we talk about picking berries, I picture salmon berries. They picture blue
berries. Because that’s the kind of berries that they think of. ...And then, we would have to come back for that. ... We'll be happy to get other kinds of berries, but we won’t be able to go without our salmonberries (Mary
Huntington 2005).
It was also noted that the greens available in both Nome and Kotzebue would be
different. One elder woman noted, in particular, that there was no sourdock in Kotzebue.
4.3.2 Impacts on the Preparation of Subsistence Foods and Subsistence Economy
A surprisingly consistent, and unprompted, comment by people interviewed was that
there would be dramatic changes in the way subsistence foods are prepared, should
collocation to Nome or Kotzebue occur. Many people stated that because Shishmaref was
on the island, on a sand foundation, that it didn’t get as warm as Nome or Kotzebue,
where there was more rock/gravel.
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We would have to learn how to ferment it in gravel or however kind they
have. Because we know now to store our food in this kind of area which is fine sand. And the temperature must be just right because gravel is going
to be too hot (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
This, it was said, is extremely important for the production of seal oil and other sea
mammal products. In Shishmaref, these things can be left outside to cure and settle and
do not go bad. Because of this, Shishmaref seal oil is of different, clearer color and higher
quality than seal oil from other parts of the Seward Peninsula. This higher quality seal oil
is a point of pride and an important characteristic to the identity of Shishmaref and
Shishmaref subsistence food.
If we move to Nome or Kotzebue, it’s gravel, and we live on seals. Seals.
We work all spring to save our dry meat, seal oil and blubber. If we have
no money to buy from store, we eat them. They’re always there. And our food changes with the seasons. That wouldn’t be possible anymore (Nora
Kuzuguk 2005).
This seal oil, along with the seal skins that are cleaned and tanned in Shishmaref have
become part of an economy of subsistence foods and products traded and sold among
Native peoples across the state. It was said that a bucket of seal oil from Shishmaref can
be sold for up to $200. The sealskins are also sold at functions like AFN to other Alaska
Natives. In this way, Shishmaref residents produce subsistence foods and products, not
just for themselves, but for a larger network across the state. If relocation were to occur,
residents say not only would Shishmaref residents miss these foods, but people all over
the state would be without them as well.
The other aspect of subsistence hunting that some interviewees commented on was the
potential change from hunting in ‘groups’, as is the case in Shishmaref, to hunting in
more isolated units. One interviewee said that in Shishmaref people are able to hunt
walrus as a community and people help one another while they are out on the land or ice,
but that with people he was unfamiliar with, this group hunting would not be done (Fred
Weyiouanna 2004).
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4.3.3 Impacts on Subsistence Equipment
Shishmaref residents were concerned with three main issues, regarding impacts of the
move on the value of their investment for subsistence equipment. The first is the loss of
transportation equipment they would suffer from relocation to Nome or Kotzebue, i.e.
boats, snow machines, four wheelers, etc. “What about our snow machines, Hondas,
boats? Are we going to have to move those ourselves?” (Tony Weyiouanna Sr. 2004).
Concerns over these details are serious to residents of Shishmaref after having invested
significant capital into this equipment.
The second concern was over the loss of traditional subsistence fish camps that had been
in families for many years. “What are we going to do if we move to Nome and need a
place to camp?” (Lucy Miller [pseudonym] 2004). This was both a concern for the actual
property value and subsistence value of fish camps, as well as the sentimental and
cultural importance of fish camps as family heirlooms. One man pointed out that this was
their ancestral land base. Another woman pointed out, “the places where we camp, [are]
where our ancestors camp before” (Nora Kuzuguk 2005). Not having a place to camp in
Nome and Kotzebue was a concern for a number of interviewees.
The third concern was the need for different subsistence equipment in Nome or Kotzebue,
particularly the need for a car. People are afraid they wouldn’t have the money resources
to purchase a car, and they acknowledge that without a vehicle subsistence practices are
more difficult in Nome and/or Kotzebue. To practice subsistence in Nome, particularly,
one has to have the means to get out of town. One woman also commented, that
subsistence by car, just isn’t the same: “Probably could do it by car, but that wouldn’t be
the same, it would take all the fun out of it and all of the excitement out of it.” (Jen Smith
[pseudonym] 2005).
4.3.4 Impacts of Entering into the Nome or Kotzebue Subsistence Community
There were two distinct concerns people had about entering into the Kotzebue or Nome
area subsistence community. The first is that this could be perceived as entering into
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another tribe’s traditional hunting grounds, which could still be considered trespassing.
The second is that both Nome and Kotzebue would have increased federal and state
hunting/fishing regulations.
Using Other Native Peoples Hunting Grounds. \nterviewees said that they would not
feel comfortable ‘intruding’ on other people’s hunting areas. While state and federal
hunting areas are equally open to everyone, there are still strong feelings about tribal
territories of hunting and picking grounds that extend back at least hundreds of years. It is
clear that many Shishmaref people still only feel comfortable hunting, picking, or
gathering on what they consider ‘Shishmaref” land.
This is particularly true about women picking berries. While some people said that they
had picked in Nome and would feel comfortable doing this again, many people attested to
the fact that berry patches are still informally ‘owned’ and exploited by the same family,
as they have been for generations.
For berries we have family groups that pick berries at certain areas. And
different family groups do not pick in that area until we move out and then
they can come and pick in that area. I know for sure that in happenings,
like mini conference in Wales or Brevig, some of the people from different
villages go out and pick berries and they pick in berry patches that
someone might have been saving at that village, so we might be imposing
on someone’s private land (John Sinnok 2005).
Knowing this, they said that they would have to be asked to go picking with someone
from the Nome or Kotzebue area in order to feel respectful of people’s land. “That’s how
we were raised, we have to be respectful” (Lucy Miller [pseudonym] 2004). In this way,
the independence and freedom of being able to exploit what one considers one’s own is
sacrificed and people from Shishmaref would have to ‘depend’ on the generosity of
others. “Because it wouldn’t seem right. Because it’s not ours. What we have here is
ours” (Jen Smith [pseudonym] 2005).
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Increased Regulations. The other concern about relocating to the Nome and Kotzebue
subsistence communities was the presence of state and federal regulatory agencies, more
stringent regulations, and enforcement of those regulations. This concern was mentioned
in nearly every interview and exists as a real and profound abdication of ownership and
control over subsistence activities.
Being on the city council, I know a lot of things are different between
Shishmaref and Nome. They said we’d have to get all kinds of license that
we’re not so used to around here. Here we can just go subsistence fishing
or hunting for any kind of animal. In Nome we have to have all kinds of
tickets and I think there’s a certain amount that we can only get (Melissa
Ningeulook 2005).
It just seems to me that any new subsistence (in Nome or Kotzebue) would
be very restrictive in the fact that any new subsistence you would have
some sort of permission from the entity in Nome or in the larger vicinity.
As opposed to Shishmaref, where it’s a way of life, almost done
unconsciously (Joe Braach 2005).
The consistency and genuine concern about increased regulations and restrictions on
subsistence activities should not be underestimated and was mentioned in contrast to the
feeling that in Shishmaref one is ‘free to do what one wants’ in terms of subsistence
activities.
Here in Shishmaref we can hunt all four seasons without anyone watching
us [in Nome or Kotzebue]. They have different federal regulations, they
have different permits and hunting areas that we won’t have access to.
Here in Shishmaref we can hunt anything we want for subsistence use
(Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
It also was mentioned that in face of these regulations some subsistence activities, such as
duck hunting, would have to be done ‘under the table.’
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4.3.5 Impacts on Safety of Subsistence Activities and Local Traditional Knowledge
about Weather, Timeliness of Subsistence Activities, and Oceans/Land Conditions
People in Shishmaref have obviously, over many years, built a knowledge base
concerning local currents, weather patterns, ice conditions, etc. This knowledge is
specific, intricate, and localized. Relocation, people said, would put them at greater risk
for accidents while hunting on the sea or on the land because in either Nome or Kotzebue
they are unaware of these conditions.
I know that we would continue, but it would be pretty different. Like I
wouldn’t know how to hunt in Norton Sound because I don’t know the
currents. Here we understand the current and we understand the clouds, we understand what happens to the land and how the current gets stronger,
which way it usually goes. In certain winds how it’s safe for us to go out,
no matter how windy, you can’t go out in certain winds because the wind and current will get you stuck out in the ocean. ... You have to live in an
area a long time to understand it (John Sinnok 2005).
Predicting the weather was an important theme among hunters. It was acknowledged that
subsistence hunting, especially on the ice or the ocean, is dangerous. Knowing how to
predict and anticipate storms, it was said, is essential to safety, and hunters were unsure if
they could do that successfully in another location.
It’s going to be hard to predict the weather because different locations has
different basis to look out for different wind caps. Like Ear Mountain we
use for weather. You look at it, if it has a small white cap, and you’re out
there 70 miles out and it’s nice and calm you tell your crew you have to go
back (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
There is also the understanding that in Shishmaref, people are aware of how the animal
populations move across the land and when the berries will be ripe, depending on the
time of year and weather conditions. One woman explained that around Shishmaref, they
know where to go for food at any time of the year, and that would necessarily change in a
more urban environment.
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We camp a lot around here. We camp from Serpentine to down the coast.
We do greens first, sour docks, willow leaves when they’re tender. Some
people do the beach greens. ... We don’t know where they would be in a
city (Nora Kuzuguk 2005).
Another resident said that Shishmaref residents know the boundary lines (hunting
regions, federal/state parks, etc.) of that area, and that would be difficult to relearn as
well. “And there’s a whole lot of land boundaries. Here people know where their
boundaries are, where their land claims are, what is where” (Joe Braach 2005).
Generally people recognized that this type of knowledge was built up over centuries, and
are hesitant to be taken off the land that they know.
4.3.6 Seasonally Returning to Shishmaref After Collocation
Shishmaref residents were adamant about the fact that they would want to return to
Shishmaref for subsistence practices, and in most cases people said that they would
return, particularly during berry season or spring hunting. “We would always come back
to Shishmaref in the springtime. That’s my life — hunting and fishing” (Joe Brown
[pseudonym] 2005). Again, the need for salmonberries, and the infrequency of
salmonberries in other parts of the state would mean needing to return to Shishmaref (see
quote by Mary Huntington in section 4.3.1).
However, many people questioned the feasibility of returning. First, people were
concerned about whether the airport would remain open, whether routes to Shishmaref
would continue with the local airlines, and whether they could afford plane tickets.
“Coming back to Shishmaref would be difficult and expensive. Airfares and gas prices
are too high!” (Davis Sockpick 2005). One resident, Clifford Weyiouanna, estimated that
around 75% of the population would not be able to return to Shishmaref if they relocated
to Nome or Kotzebue (2004).
Other concerns were that, given the variability of animal movements, weather, summer
temperatures (for berry ripening) etc., that it would be impossible to know, plan, and
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arrange to come back for subsistence activities because of the unpredictability of the
resource. Others commented that subsistence was, in Shishmaref, a year-round activity,
and that returning all year long was not feasible. Until more concrete scenarios for co-
location are explained, the possibility of returning for subsistence if relocated to Nome or
Kotzebue is surrounded by so many uncertainties that it seemed difficult for people to
predict.
4.3.7 Impacts on a Sense of Place and the Subsistence Traditions
To many people, the Shishmaref subsistence lifestyle and knowledge of the land was
linked to all other cultural values and identity. A sense of place is also linked directly to
subsistence activities and many people discussed the longevity of Shishmaref people’s
occupation of the land on and around Sarichef Island.
As for culture, our ancestors have lived here for thousands of years. The
land itself here is part of life, part of our way of life. If they move
Shishmaref I would choose to stay here (Davis Sockpick 2005).
Herbert Nayokpuk also commented:
The raging sea is tremendously powerful and needs to be respected.
Shishmaref Island will need to be protected from the sea and moved to a different location, in due time. The move needs to be closely tied to our
hunting traditional cultural practices, we are sea mammal hunters. ... We
can’t go without seal meat and oil (Herbert Nayokpuk 2005).
The particular knowledge of how to harvest and survive on the land in and around
Shishmaref has remained intact, even compared to Nome and Kotzebue. Residents of
Shishmaref testify to the connection between identity and subsistence and say that it is
vulnerable to change, particularly if a move were to occur.
That’s a strong part of Shishmaref, the putting away of the ugruk. It seems
like in other places their getting away from it, because those who are
experts in doing it are passed on ... But in Shishmaref it’s being passed on
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to the younger generations, so they’re taking over what our ancestors have
been doing for years, and that would definitely change (Stella Havatone
2005).
This knowledge and ability to harvest from the land also gives people in Shishmaref a
sense of food security. “As long as you have five gallons of gas, you can get enough food
for your family for the day [in Shishmaref]” (Clifford Weyiouanna 2005). Clearly
subsistence, in Shishmaref, is merely part of the people and part of life, and residents
interviewed were not sure if this could continue in Nome or Kotzebue.
People in Shishmaref are familiar with the rhythm of life in the area. The
environment in Shishmaref lends itself to a subsistence lifestyle. In Nome
or Kotzebue Shishmaref people probably would lose their subsistence
lifestyle (Richard Stasenko 2004).
4.3.8 Long-term Animal Availability in the Shishmaref Area
Some interviewees felt that not only would animal populations be over-hunted in the long
term in Nome and/or Kotzebue, should Shishmaref move there; but they were also
concerned about the animal populations in and around Shishmaref.
Our elders say that if we don’t hunt animals they gradually go away and I
feel the same way about our land. That’s why our land provides for us, we
look after it. It’s just like a house, if you don’t use it, it will gradually be
destroyed (Tom Conner [pseudonym] 2004).
It was pointed out that the people in Shishmaref have been part of the ecosystem of that
area for thousands of years; and that taking humans out of the ecosystem would cause
irreparable damage. One man said that if the human population were to be taken out of
that ecosystem, the animal population in that area would explode, followed by a crash,
and the animals would eventually die out. “The people here are part of the ecosystem.
The hunters keep the animal population healthy and strong.” (Johnson Eningowuk 2005).
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Indeed, Nelson has pointed out that:
The fact that we identify Alaska’s remote country as wilderness derives
from our inability to conceive of occupying and utilizing land without
altering or completely eliminating its natural state. But the Indians and
Eskimos have been living this way for thousands of years. Certainly, then,
theirs has been a successful participation as members of an ecosystem. In a
world of environmental degradation, this represents an exemplary form of
human adaptation, fostering a healthy coexistence of man and ecosystem
(Nelson et al. 1982: 296).
This corresponds to the belief, as mentioned in the quote by Tom Conner [pseudonym],
that the land needs to be ‘cared for’ by the people from Shishmaref (2004). In this
framework animals are there for the benefit of the people, and the opposite is true, the
people sustain the health of the land and animals. An impact of relocation predicted by
the community is that, if the hunters leave, the animals around Shishmaref will disappear.
4.3.9 Conclusions
Generally it is assumed that hunting, fishing, picking, etc., would continue among
Shishmaref residents if they were to relocate to Nome or Kotzebue, but the extent and
ease of practicing a subsistence lifestyle would diminish. Successful relocation to Nome
or Kotzebue (in terms of subsistence) would necessarily require compensation for
subsistence equipment already owned by community members in Shishmaref, and
additional money resources to purchase equipment needed specifically for the Nome and
Kotzebue regions. However, despite the practical question of equipment availability, it
must be recognized that the cultural significance of subsistence as a lifestyle would
necessarily change in Nome or Kotzebue because of the separation of the Shishmaref
people from their ancestral territory and disruption in the daily use of a place-based
knowledge of the land, the weather, and the resources that has evolved over centuries.
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4.4 Impacts on Health at Shishmaref
Residents of Shishmaref identified a variety of physical and mental health impacts
potentially caused by a move to Nome or Kotzebue. The researchers conducting this
report specifically asked interviewees to answer questions concerning possible changes to
diet, alcohol use, access to health care facilities, and mental health. All other possible
effects mentioned were brought up by interviewees. This chapter is divided into five
sections: 1) general health impacts; 2) access to health care facilities; 3) diet; 4) alcohol
and drug use; 5) mental health.
It is essential to point out here that the tendency of western scientific models is to
categorize health, especially physical health, in terms wholly separate from other aspects
of life and enjoyment of life. Many of the residents in Shishmaref did not make such
dualistic categorizations. It is well documented by medical anthropology and other
literature that what members of a group consider to be ‘health’ or, more generally, ‘well
being’, is largely a cultural construct and is determined by cultural norms (Kleinman
1988). Comments such as, “if we move, the elders will just die” and repetitive comments
about how a healthy lifestyle is dependent on a subsistence lifestyle should not be taken
lightly. A subsistence lifestyle can be linked, and often was linked by interviewees, to
other measures of physical health: i.e. a subsistence lifestyle is conducive to more
exercise, lower cholesterol, lower stress levels, etc. While this is important, the context of
what it means to be healthy in an overall picture of cultural practice and meaning is also
essential. A subsistence lifestyle is linked to health because of its physiologically
measurable and culturally specific benefits to overall health. To this end, the authors
would like to acknowledge that the nutritional value of subsistence food and the exercise
done during subsistence activities is only a piece of what it means to be healthy in
Shishmaref. In other words, it is naive to think that any nutritional diet or any exercise
program could replace the traditional subsistence lifestyle in terms of health benefits, as
health is recognized and defined by the Shishmaref community.
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4.4.1 General Health
The health impacts of moving to Nome or Kotzebue on the residents of Shishmaref were
varied. Often interviewees acknowledged the benefits to health care and hygiene that
moving would allow. In general, however, the effect that potential alcohol and drug use
could have on the community outweighed any positive health effects recognized by the
community. These will be discussed in the following sections.
A number of people commented that moving to Nome or Kotzebue would give
Shishmaref residents access to running water. At the present time only a few houses in
Shishmaref have water tank facilities for indoor plumbing. Most residents rely on hauled
ice from nearby ponds in winter and collected rainwater in spring and summer for wash
and cooking water. This is typically stored in garbage cans inside the house and a honey
bucket system is used for human waste. Receptacles for the honey buckets are located in
various places around the village. Interviewees recognized that running water would lead
to improved hygiene, sanitation, and potentially better health among the community
members (e.g., Kelly Eningowuk (2004), Madolyn Orr [pseudonym] 2004). These
statements, however, assume that conditions in Shishmaref would stay the same and that
they would be better elsewhere; none of which is a certainty. Eningowuk also mentioned,
however, that she believes the community should not have to move in order to have
access to indoor plumbing.
A few people felt that generally health would be better in Shishmaref, particularly among
the kids, because of the “fresh/clean air” (Clifford Weyiouanna 2004). In addition John
Sinnok expressed concern that in a more urban environment Shishmaref residents would
be exposed to more illness. He noted, “I’m not sure what kind of sicknesses there would
be around a lot of people” (John Sinnok 2005). Jimmy Seetomona mentioned that in
Shishmaref people have access (via snow machine) to Serpentine Hotsprings, which is an
important traditional place of healing for Shishmaref residents, and would be difficult to
access from Nome or Kotzebue. This, he believed, could lead to poorer health among
community members (2004).
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4.4.2 Access to Health Care Facilities
Today the health care facility in Shishmaref is a health clinic managed by Norton Sound
Hospital. It is run by health aides, people trained to administer health care to the
community of Shishmaref. One health aid, it was reported, is a registered nurse training
to become a physicians’ assistant. There is no doctor in the village and almost all medical
care — exams, prescriptions, and procedures — occur outside of the village in Nome and
sometimes Anchorage.
Most people interviewed agreed that access to health care facilities would improve if the
community moved to either Nome or Kotzebue. Today, having to fly into Nome and
remain there during medical exams or procedures is an inconvenience. Women who are
pregnant generally fly into Nome and stay there for up to a month before giving birth.
Emergency situations are precarious because inclement weather can hinder the ability to
fly into and out of Shishmaref for a patient. One elder, Octavio Sanchez [pseudonym],
reported that proximity of the hospital was good, because the trip to and from Nome was
difficult. In fact, he noted that accessibility to health care facilities was the only good
thing about the proposed move (2004).
Two interviewees expressed concern and a dislike for the hospital in Nome (as far as we
could tell, currently Kotzebue does not handle any medical care for the village of
Shishmaref). One man, in particular was harshly critical of the health care facility in
Nome, saying, “the hospitals [in Nome] have killed more people than they’ve saved”
(Clifford Weyiouanna 2004).
A few interviewees raised doubts about the ability of the Nome hospital and health care
facilities to handle an additional 600 residents (Nancy Kokeok 2004, Frank Ongtowasruk
2005). One interviewee also expressed concern about having to wait for medical attention
in Nome or Kotzebue, instead of getting immediate attention, as they do in the
Shishmaref clinic (Johnson Eningowuk 2005).
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While most interviewees thought that being relocated near a hospital had positive
benefits, it was also clear that, generally, people were satisfied with the health care they
received from the health aides in Shishmaref. The vast majority of interviewees said they
felt comfortable visiting the clinic and were happy with the services provided. One
woman expressed a concer that in Nome or Kotzebue people would put off going to the
hospital for general health problems because they wouldn’t feel comfortable going to a
hospital for anything other than major illness. She mentioned that people do feel
comfortable going to the clinic for any health concern.
We’d have access to a hospital, so that would improve. Would people
want to go all the way to the hospital? When hospital feels like something that’s more dire compared to just a clinic. ... A hospital is where you go when it’s real bad. Otherwise you just go to clinic, it’s no big deal (Mary Huntington 2005).
Most people interviewed felt that proximity to larger health care facilities was not a major
impact issue in the decision to move to Nome or Kotzebue.
4.4.3 Diet
It was nearly unanimously agreed upon among interviewees that the diet of people would
significantly change if the community moved to Nome or Kotzebue. People interviewed
thought that 1) there would be less reliance on subsistence foods; 2) there would be more
store bought food/ junk food/ beef/chicken; 3) people would eat out in restaurants a lot
more often in Nome or Kotzebue. At the present time, there is not a single restaurant open
in Shishmaref. There is a place to purchase a few fast-food items, but it doesn’t seem to
be very popular, and was not open at any time that the researchers were conducting
fieldwork. Interviewees felt these diet changes would lead to potential rises in cholesterol,
obesity, and heart disease, should the community move to Nome or Kotzebue.
Moving to Nome or Kotzebue, it was assumed, would mean a drop in subsistence
activities among Shishmaref residents; and subsequently a loss of subsistence food.
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Here we’re always depending on dry meat, seal oil, caribou, if you’re not familiar with the surroundings and don’t get your catch for the season, you have no choice but to eat Nulagmi’s food... white man’s food (Stella
Havatone 2005).
At the same time, people predict that access to a wider variety of foods, such as a bigger
selection in the stores and the existence of restaurants would lead to the consumption of
food that was easier to prepare, but not as healthy.
Burgers, fries, pizza, would become a staple. Just because, because it’s there and easy. Even though it’s going to be more expensive than depending on our resources. We won’t have as much subsistence stuff anyway and we talked about that... so we’d have to start relying on those
other things (Mary Huntington 2005).
The increase in fast food and other ‘white man’s food’ (particularly the use of beef over
subsistence meat) was considered by most people interviewed to be less healthy than
subsistence food taken in Shishmaref. One resident stated, “it’s been proven time and
time again that Native foods are healthy” (Percy Nayokpuk 2005). Interviewees often
linked subsistence foods to better health in terms of physiological measurements such as
cholesterol or blood pressure.
As a health aid I know that people would have all kinds of high
cholesterol, all kinds of stuff going on with their body just because of how
they eat. Because there’s a lot of fast foods over there, and there’s hardly
nothing here (Melissa Ningeulook 2005).
Other people mentioned the increase in diabetes to be linked to the greater consumption
of store bought, non-subsistence food (Tony Weyiouanna Sr. 2004). Another concern was
weight gain that these foods would cause. “I think people would get overweight and stuff
from fast foods. Get lazy, maybe can’t walk anymore” (Helen Sockpick 2005).
4.4.4 Alcohol and Drug Use and Abuse
An increase in alcohol and drug use and the consequences related were a major, if not the
major, concern people had about moving to either Nome or Kotzebue. The relationship
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between the villages, the regional hubs, and alcohol must be explained here, at least in
some detail, in order to understand the concerns and experiences of people in Shishmaref.
It should also be mentioned here that Native Americans and Alaska Natives in particular
are disproportionately represented as victims of alcohol related accidents, psychosocial
stress (that can cause suicide) and alcohol related illness.
For the age group 25 to 34, American Indian males die almost three times
more frequently than their non- Indian counterparts from motor vehicle
crashes; they are twice as likely to commit suicide; they are seven times more likely to suffer from alcohol-related problems, such as cirrhosis of the liver. Alaska Native males ages 15 to 24 have a suicide rate 14 times the national average. (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Service Statistics 2002)
There is little discussion in the literature about the effect alcohol has on rural
communities versus urban communities of American Indians or Alaska Natives, but the
existence of alcohol related problems in general among American Indians and Alaska
Natives is well documented. It was strongly felt by residents of Shishmaref, however, that
alcohol use would increase if the community were to relocate. The following gives
possible reasons for an increase in alcohol and drug use and effects of this increase
First, Shishmaref has in the past and again recently decided by popular vote to maintain
their status as a dry community, meaning alcohol sale or possession is illegal. In this way
the community itself has an official venue for controlling the use of alcohol that enters
and is consumed in their community. Despite this, residents of Shishmaref agree that
alcohol use and abuse still occurs in their community, but is on a smaller scale because:
1) the fear of illegality is prohibitive and; 2) the cost of bootlegged alcohol is
prohibitively expensive. A bottle of whiskey can run as much as $150 in the village;
whereas in Nome, interviewees said, “if people have just a little bit of money they can go
to the bars” (Bill and Eleanor Thomas [pseudonyms] 2004). Residents pointed out that in
Nome or Kotzebue alcohol is legal (Nome is a wet community, Kotzebue is a damp
community meaning possession is not illegal, but sale is), and Shishmaref residents
would have no recourse in the law to determine how alcohol is controlled. One resident
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pointed this out, saying, “I think as a culture they addressed that very issue when they
themselves voted to be dry. It would take away their independence to pass those
initiatives” (Joe Braach 2005). Today Shishmaref residents themselves determine alcohol
policy, and some people feared that abdication of this type of self-determination, in
conjunction with a more liberal drinking society of Nome or Kotzebue could be
devastating.
One interviewee thought that being a dry community leads to unnecessary incarceration
of community members because of bootlegging, and he thought that alcohol use could be
monitored well among people in Shishmaref either if they were in the village or moved to
Nome or Kotzebue. His was a minority opinion.
Unofficially, Shishmaref also has measures in place to control drug use. Marijuana is
present and used in the community, but residents report that there are no other drugs used
in Shishmaref at present. Residents reported that other drugs are present in Nome and
Kotzebue, but that they are kept out of Shishmaref intentionally. One interviewee relayed
a story of how a person came into Shishmaref with drugs (unsure of what types) other
than marijuana and that this person was “run out of town,” by unofficial community
consensus. By both official and unofficial means, in Shishmaref, the community has
options by which they can control substance use and abuse. Again, despite these controls,
alcohol and drug problems do still exist in the village and are acknowledged by residents.
Interviewees did not know as much about drug or alcohol abuse in Kotzebue (not because
alcohol/drug problems do not exist, but because people are less familiar with Kotzebue),
but in Nome many people had personal stories and histories regarding alcohol and drug
use among family members. At least three women interviewed reported that they had
been living in Nome with good jobs, and that they had decided to move back to
Shishmaref because either their husband or their children could not stay sober in Nome.
In at least one of the cases alcohol led to domestic violence. In at least two cases it led to
arrest and incarceration. In all three cases the women reported that their family members
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had cleaned up and done well in Shishmaref, and all of the women believed that it would
have been impossible for their family members to stay sober in Nome.
Alcohol is shown to cause an increase in violence, particularly domestic violence,
especially among American Indians. A US Justice Department report titled American
Indians and Crime verified that “among all domestic violence victims, most (22 out of
36) said the perpetrator was drinking (Perry 2004: 35).
Percy Nayokpuk calls the alcohol problem in Nome the problem of “an alcohol
mentality” (2004), and many people identified Nome as simply the place you go to drink.
Generally everyone interviewed thought that alcohol consumption, alcohol abuse, and
drug use and abuse would increase if the community moved to Nome or Kotzebue.
Alcohol and drug use was often inversely correlated to practicing subsistence activities.
In Nome or Kotzebue, it was generally assumed that a decline in subsistence activities
would lead directly to an increase in alcohol use and abuse. “In Shishmaref the hunting
keeps people from alcohol” (Chris Ningeulook 2004). People also explained this
association in reverse terms, saying that an increase in alcohol abuse would lead to the
decline of subsistence activities.
It [alcohol use] would probably take away some of our hunters and our sewers and the problems that alcohol causes in families. It causes them to do things that they wouldn’t do when they were sober (Stella Havatone 2005).
The loss of traditional lifestyle and assimilation into a more western society from an
American Indian lifestyle has been correlated with an increase in use and abuse of alcohol
(Quintero 2002: 14). Here we assume that moving away from the village would mean a
higher rate of assimilation, and that would lead to greater alcohol abuse among the
population.
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Alcohol abuse was also linked, by interviewees, directly to an increase in child and elder
abuse or neglect, and domestic violence. The literature verifies that the abuse of alcohol
and drugs by parents, particularly mothers, has generally been shown to increase the
likelihood of child abuse and neglect. “A strong association was found between maternal
use of drugs and child maltreatment serious enough to necessitate removal of the children
by Child Protective Services (CPS)” (Kelly 1992: 317). A dramatic increase in alcohol or
drug abuse, predicted by the community if a move to Nome or Kotzebue were to occur,
would mean an increase in child abuse.
A number of people also pointed out that alcohol abuse would lead to physical fighting
with host communities, and many people predicted that alcohol would lead to a greater
number of arrests among Shishmaref residents. “It [alcohol] might even put them in a
correctional facility and that would take them away from their culture” (Stella Havatone
2005). The increase in arrest and incarceration was a major concern for residents in
Shishmaref. One interviewee explained, “Our tribal members would turn into criminals
and they’re not criminals, it’s just that the drinking would be out of control” (Nancy
Kokeok 2005). This concern mimics the King Island dichotomy between their village on
King Island as a type of paradise and Nome as “sin-city” (see Chapter 3).
People were especially concerned about the effects alcohol would have on the younger
generation. “We see our kid’s names in the newspaper when they go to Nome, under-age
drinking” (Kate Kokeok 2004). Another concern was that alcohol would lead to missing
persons or even murder. A surprisingly powerful concern among people all over the
Seward Peninsula in regards to Nome and Kotzebue is that when villagers travel to these
hubs, sometimes they do not return. This fear of missing persons is often linked to
alcohol and is palpable among community members. Today in Nome the City Council
has started a task force to investigate missing persons, and to look more deeply into the
concerns expressed by people in the villages.
The youngsters would probably get out of high school and go to the bars,
or get real easy access to drugs. They get drunk or they get high, they get
in conflicts with other communities, like in Kotzebue. In both Kotzebue
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and Nome, you can see it in the newspaper, every other month there is
either a missing person or there is a murder. Here in Shishmaref, we don’t have this problem. We have no missing person, no one’s been murdered. If we move to those villages, you’ll probably see a higher rate of murder or missing people because some people won’t like us there (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
In summary, the more liberal policies of Nome and Kotzebue towards alcohol and the
greater availability of alcohol and drugs was, along with subsistence practices, the biggest
concern among residents from Shishmaref. The greater use and abuse of alcohol and
drugs were linked to all other facets of life. Alcohol, people said, would separate families,
lead to (and be caused by) a decline in subsistence activities, increase violence between
Shishmaref residents and others, increase in domestic violence, and an increase of
incidents of elder and child abuse. These predictions made by the community are also
documented in the literature.
4.4.5 Mental Health and Well-being
It was generally conclusive that people would be “less happy” in Nome or Kotzebue. This
mental stress and depression, interviewees said, would be caused by 1) not being able to
go out into the country; 2) being away from the “spiritual center”/ being away from their
home; 3) lack of self esteem; 4) the influence of alcohol and drugs; 5) culture shock.
Three interviewees mentioned that the community would need long-term counseling if a
move to Kotzebue or Nome occurred. School aged children and elders were considered
particularly vulnerable to depression or difficulties in adjusting to life in Nome or
Kotzebue.
Shishmaref residents believed, as mentioned previously, that a healthy lifestyle, including
mental and spiritual health, was dependent, to some degree, on a subsistence lifestyle.
Without access to the country, many people worried about the shock of urban life and the
lack of hunting opportunities.
It would be a pretty big shock. We would stand around and asking, “What
can we do?” “Where’s all the moose?” It would take a long time to get to
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know the land and stuff like that. I’m happier in Shishmaref (Chris
Ningeulook 2004).
The increase of alcohol and drugs was also predicted to be a major cause of additional
stress if the community moved to Nome or Kotzebue.
When there’s alcohol and drugs around it really changes people. Where
it’s peaceful around here. That would be something ... people would
holler at each other more. Worry about this and that a lot more. I don’t
know. When you start drinking you don’t worry about anyone else besides
yourself, so yep, there will be a lot of mental stress. A lot of stress (John
Sinnok 2005).
It is also recognized that removal from their own land has implications to mental health
and well being among Alaska Natives and American Indians that could be different than
that of other ethnic groups. One interviewee from Shishmaref said, “If you take people
away, break up their social structure and take them away from what they love doing, their
‘spiritual center’, it could be disastrous” (Richard Stasenko 2004). Attention to this
spiritual center or ‘attachment to place’ among American Indian and Alaska Native
groups has been noted by many researchers. It is acknowledged that American Indian and
Alaska Native groups are not synonymous and can vary dramatically in cultural norms
and meaning/belief systems; but comparisons can be made. Vine Deloria has pointed this
out, saying:
American Indians hold their lands — places — as having the highest possible
meaning, and all their statements are made with this reference point in
mind. ...A singular difficulty faces peoples of Western European heritage
in making a transition from thinking in terms of time to thinking in terms
of space (Deloria 1973: 61-62).
The loss of ancestral land, therefore, was acknowledged by people in Shishmaref to lead
to mental stress and a continual longing to return home. As one consultant put it, “Home
is where the heart is, and people’s hearts are in Shishmaref” (Albert Olanna 2004).
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In general the affect on mental health, consultants felt, would not be easily overcome and
would be a long-term problem for the community. One consultant said, “Behavior
problems would be worse. I think it would be bad for some of the people because it
would get their sense of well being put down and they wouldn’t be able to climb out of
that” (Edward Olanna 2005).
4.4.6 Conclusions
Generally, people predicted that the health of their community would decline, even
though the availability of health care facilities and increased hygienic conditions with
running water would be improved in Nome and Kotzebue. The use and abuse of alcohol
and drugs was a prime concern among most of those people interviewed and the increase
in substance abuse was linked to many other social and health problems. The subsistence
lifestyle was also at the center of the discussion. This lifestyle is believed to be a key
factor in keeping people healthy — in diet and exercise — away from alcohol and drugs,
and in strong mental health. Mental health was associated both with the subsistence
lifestyle and occupation of the land around Shishmaref.
4.5 Impacts on Social Structure at Shishmaref
The researchers here understand the study of social impacts to the community to be those
things which may change the fundamental societal structure, such as the nature of
economy, work distribution, fundamental self-identified characteristics of the group, and
interaction among members of the community.
4.5.1 Child and Elder Care
One thing that many residents pointed out in interviews is that the nature of child and
elder care might be altered by a move to Nome or Kotzebue. There were a few
interviewees who insisted that the oldest and youngest members of the community would
always be taken care of by their families. Many, however, explained how the nature of
that care might change.
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It was generally agreed that in Shishmaref, compared to Nome or Kotzebue, it was easier
for kids to “play out.” “Here people can leave kids outside because we’re so together that
we can find them right away” (Nancy Kokeok 2004). Walking around Shishmaref there
are always kids, including young kids outside. This is considered a very safe practice.
Interviewees pointed out two major factors that differentiated Nome and Kotzebue from
Shishmaref in terms of safety for kids being alone outside: 1) there is no automobile
traffic in Shishmaref (though there is 4-wheeler and snow machine traffic); 2) — and more
frequently mentioned — is that the entire community helps watch, discipline, and protect
children. This idea that the children are known, loved, and watched by the entire
community is something that people did not feel could continue in a larger community,
and that responsibility would be the nuclear family’s only.
In larger communities the sense of family regarding watching children
changes. Everyone watches children instead of the nuclear family only
taking on the responsibility of watching children (Linda Beyer 2004).
Because of this, some people felt that control over kids in their community would be compromised (Frank Ongtowasruk 2005).
For elder care, the one main thought was that more elderly people would be put in centers
for elder care and not be cared for by their kids, in their homes. Many people felt that
elders belonged with their children in their homes, and that elders still had things to teach
their families that wouldn’t be possible to do if they lived in elder facilities (Kelly
Eningowuk 2004, Tom Conner [pseudonym] 2004, Elizabeth Shank [pseudonym] 2004,
Percy Nayokpuk 2004-2005). One interviewee also mentioned that Shishmaref was safer
for elders suffering from Alzheimer’s or other mentally debilitating diseases (Richard
Stasenko 2004). There was also an agreement that elders were better able to participate in
the community as a whole, and engage in social activities because of the safety of the
community and the accessibility of social events in the village. “Here elders can go to
ballgames and social events and the store and feel comfortable and safe” (Kate Kokeok
2004).
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A move could possibly also have benefits to elder care. Today, if an elder has to be put
into an elder care facility, the closest one possible is in Nome. This means the family is a
plane ride removed from their elder. During interviews, however, most people decidedly
felt that it was a negative impact that elders would be increasingly cared for by elder care
facilities. Either positive or negative, this is a substantial change in social structure.
4.5.2 The Nuclear Family vs. the Village Family
“We've always been a ‘we’ world instead of ‘I’ world” (John Sinnok 2005). Interviewees
consistently pointed out by that a major change that could be caused by collocation to
Nome or Kotzebue is the village networks of extended families could be reduced to a
more western type of nuclear families. “Like in Nome you don’t know what’s happening
from one end of the town to the other, and you wouldn’t be able to have that closeness
and communication like you have here” (Stella Havatone 2005). This potential collapse
of the ‘village family’ is tied to division of labor in a community, the care of children,
and the nature of social interaction. Many people explained this by saying simply that
they wouldn’t see members of the Shishmaref community as often, that people wouldn’t
be as ‘close’ as they are in the village. More than one interviewee called the relationship
between Shishmaref people “family-like.”
I guess it would be harder to see someone if you were in a bigger town.
Here we’re so close together, your family’s just a few feet away. It makes
sense that bigger place, you’ll see less of them (Nate Yerg [pseudonym] 2005).
Some interviewees also mentioned that extended families are close in the village, and that
in a bigger environment, there would be more emphasis placed on the nuclear family.
Maybe [families] wouldn’t be as close as we are here. Maybe everyone
would just go off and do their own thing, because it’s easier for everyone
to go off and do their own thing (Jen Smith [pseudonym] 2005).
One woman commented, “You don’t visit your relatives in Nome, even though they’re
there” (Nora Kuzuguk 2005).
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In Shishmaref the network of extended families results in group hunting, and sharing of
subsistence harvests, especially when a whale is taken. One gentleman explained this
mentality of the village family in terms of respect for one another during a hunt. The
following story highlights how moving to Nome makes people forget this type of ‘village
family’ and the sharing of the hunt.
If we find a whale, beached, we go out there to cut it up and divide all the
good parts to all the people. For awhile some people that moved to Nome
or different places came back here to live, and I remember once we found
a whale and at that time, as always, we take our boats and go over there
and wait for all the people that are coming so we can work as a
community, flip the whale over, cut it up and divide it. But that time these
people that relocated to different communities and came back here when
we went over there, for us we sat and wait again, but these people they just
start cutting pieces, pieces and putting them in their boats. That was real
different. That was funny, huh? That was not part of the way we do things
here. So finally someone say something about how we need to wait for
people and still those people trying to get more pieces. And then when all
of the boats came over that wanted to go over, we flipped it over and that’s
when we cut it up. But those people still wanted another share on top of
what they’ve salvaged. We’ve always been a ‘we’ world instead of ‘I’
world (John Sinnok 2005).
Interviewees pointed out that immediate families would stay intact, but that they probably
wouldn’t be as close to their neighbors or further removed family members. One
interviewee said explicitly that there would be more individual hunting, as opposed to
group hunting.
This ‘village family’ versus ‘nuclear family’ dichotomy is not a clear division. There is
certainly not a completely communal ‘family’ environment in Shishmaref today, and the
social networks that exist today would not disappear completely if the village were to
move. There would, however, probably be changes in the structure of the community and
the perception of ‘family’ as such, as the family structure assimilated to a more western
conception of nuclear family.
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4.5.3 Economics and Cash
Impacts to the economic structure resemble changes in family and social structure. The
implications of moving on shared subsistence resources across family networks occurs in
conjunction with the distribution of jobs in the village and the economic structure in a
mixed-economy. Today, while cash is certainly necessary for store bought food, as well
as hunting/fishing equipment, gas, etc., Shishmaref’s economy can accurately be called a
mixed economy, and still much of the food people eat is subsistence foods.
Many interviewees pointed out that if a person (especially a male) didn’t have a job, he
could provide for his family and the community at large by subsistence hunting. “Here
there are people without a job, but they’re always busy hunting, helping others, and they
offer a lot to the community.” (Linda Beyer 2004). These foods are taken for extended
families and other people throughout the community, and people feel this might not be
able to sustain in Nome or Kotzebue.
Probably it would change for our youngsters. Because a long time ago, nowadays even, we hunt enough to get for ourselves, we know there are people in town that don’t have families or they lost their hunters, so we get a little extra for that family, or just to store for extra use. We try to hunt all
the sea mammals we need, but we try to get a little extra for someone else, or some visitors that come around (Stanley Tocktoo 2005).
Because subsistence foods are distributed across the community, the economic structure
of the community functions on a more communal level. It was agreed by the vast majority
of the community that a move to Nome or Kotzebue would necessarily mean a move
towards a cash economy, which is considered more insular, and that this move towards a
cash economy would prohibit the time needed to conduct subsistence activities (Jimmy
Seetomona 2004, Linda Beyer 2004).
A mixed economy is, in one sense, dependent on the availability of jobs. As one
interviewee pointed out, “less jobs means more time for subsistence” (Kelly Eningowuk
2004). Also, two elders commented that when they had lived in Nome they had been too
busy to practice subsistence hunting or fishing. At that time they had to rely on their
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parents (who were in Shishmaref) to provide for them (Bill and Eleanor Thomas
[pseudonyms] 2004).
In 1982 a study was published about four villages on the Koyukuk River, the largest of
which had a population of 85.° It was estimated then that each village ate more than a
million dollars in meat, fish, and plant produce every year (Nelson et al. 1982: 277). With
600 people, and an active hunting/gathering population, certainly this dollar figure would
be equaled and surpassed. If subsistence activities were limited in Nome and Kotzebue,
then more cash would be needed for the sheer feeding of families alone, hence more cash
paying jobs. Many people, however, expressed concern that jobs would be difficult to
find in Nome or Kotzebue. Ruby Jones explained that finding jobs in Nome or Kotzebue
would be easier for the educated, but she felt more people would have to rely on food
stamps, and some people from Shishmaref “would become street people,” (2004), a
phenomenon that does not happen in Shishmaref today. Richard Stasenko also said, “My
prediction would be that people would become more dependent on society” (2004).
In summary, the major impact predicted for the economy is that the mixed economy that
is currently in place would change into a mostly cash economy (Vince Tricomi
[pseudonym] 2004 and 2005). This would be difficult for the uneducated, and for ‘hem,
could potentially lead to reliance on social welfare programs. Today, as a mixed
economy, those without cash-paying jobs can still provide for their community with
subsistence resources. The benefits to the move are that there are generally more jobs
available for people in Nome and Kotzebue than there are in Shishmaref. People who
have migrated out of the village already have done so largely because of the lack of jobs
in the village.
> While these two communities may have different subsistence strategies, the comparison is based on the frequency of activity. The researchers here use Koyuk — 85 people eating over one million dollars annually — as an example to readers as to the scope of what an active mixed economy can provide for an Alaska rural community, as well as an example of food expense. The point of comparison is that clearly, if a village of 85 is one million dollars dependent on subsistence foods, then Shishmaref with 600, and still highly subsistence based, must depend on their resources this much or more.
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How the political structure will be affected by the move is difficult to predict. It is still
unclear how ‘Shishmaref’ would function in the middle of another community, and
without scenarios already in place, people in Shishmaref had a difficult time answering
open questions about their official organization. Many people, as mentioned before, said
that they would try to remain close, but that it would be difficult. Also people had
questions about whether city buildings, community halls, etc., would be in place for them
in Nome or Kotzebue. The existence of such infrastructure, some felt, would have a big
impact on how the community functioned in a different environment. As Tony
Weyiouanna Sr. said, “It would just be much harder to function as a community” (2004).
4.5.4 Conclusions
In general, impacts in the social structure of the Shishmaref community were generally
predicted to move the community towards western assimilation. Interviewees predicted
the emergence of the nuclear family as an isolated unit instead of large networks of
extended families. Predictions were that the nature of elder and child care would also
become more dependent on professional service institutions instead of family. People
predicted generally that the mixed-economy that maintains itself today in Shishmaref
could not sustain itself in either Nome or Kotzebue, leading to greater dependence on
cash, cash employment, and use of stores for food as opposed to the land. All of these
predictions clearly indicate the feeling that residents outside of an isolated village would
promote a more western/European lifestyle in terms of social structure.
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CHAPTER 5: NOME AND KOTZEBUE
5.1 Introduction
In addition to the many interviews conducted in Shishmaref, several Nome and Kotzebue
residents were asked to provide their assessment of possible impacts of a collocation on
their community. In Nome, 10 interviews with 11 individuals were held, and in Kotzebue
17 individuals were interviewed (16 in person, one by e-mail). A list of interviewees can
be found in appendix C.
The discussion in this chapter is organized generally under the same topics discussed for
Shishmaref: culture, subsistence, health, and social structure. Each of these is discussed
for both cities concurrently, pointing out noticeable differences between the communities,
where appropriate. Also, discussions of the general attitudes of the residents of these
cities towards a possible Shishmaref collocation, and discussions of some other issues
and concerns have been included in this chapter.
Although in the interviews, the UAF Assessment team focused on the impacts of the
collocation predicted for Nome or Kotzebue, several respondents added their views on
how it could affect Shishmaref. Where appropriate, some of these views have been
reported.
5.2 General Attitude toward Hosting Shishmaref
The majority of interviewees in Nome and Kotzebue stated that, if Shishmaref decided to
move to their community, the people of Shishmaref would be welcome. These statements
were clear expressions of a general attitude of hospitality towards friends and neighbors
in need. At the same time, they often were followed by reservations regarding specific
concerns an individual might have. For example, Willie Goodwin from Kotzebue stated
“We wouldn’t turn anyone away...but we’d protect what we have” (2005). Likewise,
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Robert Miller [pseudonym] in Kotzebue felt that it “would be alright” for the people of
Shishmaref to move to Kotzebue (2005).
Denise Michels, the mayor of Nome, said that she would welcome such a move (2004).
The Board of Directors of Maniilaq in Kotzebue stated likewise that “they have no
objection to Shishmaref moving to Kotzebue” (Helen Bolen 2005). Even people who
were critical of the suggested move would welcome the people of Shishmaref if they
decided to come (Melissa Watkins [pseudonym] 2005, and Eric Grant [pseudonym]
2005). Melanie White [pseudonym] in Nome, who did not think that such a move would
be a good idea (stating that there are reasons that the people of Shishmaref are living
away from Nome right now), said that while she feels “deep down” that the people of
Shishmaref should have their own area, she also feels that they would be welcome
(2005).
An interesting tendency was that Ifupiaq residents of Nome and Kotzebue tended to be
more positive than their non-Native counterparts. Perhaps this is because the Ifiupiaq
culture values hospitality and mutual aid so highly. Also, perhaps, it would be culturally
inappropriate to express concern or opposition to the proposed collocation, even when
specific reasons for such concerns are known.
Non-Native residents did not appear to be constrained by such cultural concerns. Many of
them were outspoken in their opposition to the collocation. The following quote is taken
from a conversation about why a collocation of Shishmaref to Nome would be negative:
For two reasons: Number one, I don’t think the people in Shishmaref
would be happy relocating to Nome. I think that, given the experience
King Islanders have had, being forcibly relocated here, I think they see
that as a really good reason not to relocate here, or relocate anywhere, be
in Nome or Kotzebue. And regardless of whether or not they would be
relocated, I don’t think either town has the facilities or frankly the land
available to support the land or the people. That’s reason number two (B.J.
Wolter 2005).
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Similarly, Matt Ganley stated, “Personally, I feel the relocation of the Shishmaref people
to Nome would be a most misguided solution to a problem that may face other
communities in the near future” (2005). Josie Hardy-Bahnke, while acknowledging that
there might be positive impacts on the local economy in Nome, stated that the negative
impacts would outweigh the positive ones (2005).
However, not all the non-Native residents of Nome and Kotzebue intereviewed were
critical of the proposed collocation. For (Native and non-Native) residents in the business
sector and public service industry, the possible addition of 600 or so inhabitants seemed
very attractive. Hugh Hollgren with the hospital in Kotzebue, was as positive about the
collocation (2005), as was Robert Boyle, the Superintendent of the Kotzebue School
District (2005), and Stan Lujon, the Superintendent of the Nome School District (2004).
Noah Naylor in Kotzebue focused on the fact that more people mean more taxes, which
result in more buying power and an upgraded infrastructure (2005). Andrew Peterson, III,
in Nome, held a similar position, pointing to a possible economic boost leading to bigger
schools and stores, and more construction and housing (2004).
The arguments pro collocation were not limited to economic factors. Ernest Norton from
Kotzebue pointed out that the people of Shishmaref and Kotzebue are related and that
there were pre-contact migrations from Shishmaref to Kotzebue (2005). Sarah Lee
[pseudonym] remarked that the move of Shishmaref people to Kotzebue would be
positive, because “they’re rich in culture, they’re good people, and I wouldn’t mind
having them as neighbors. ... Kotzebue is a pretty good little town” (2005). Eric Grant
[pseudonym] in Kotzebue, mentioned that all [the people of Shishmaref and Kotzebue]
are Ifiupiaq and, thus, there should not be a problem (2005).
However, even among the interviewees who were generally positive about the
collocation, concerns about a transitional phase were evident:
I think initially it [the transition] would be a hard thing, because there’s a
new set of people that you’d have to learn to deal with, and they would
probably have a hard time, because it would really impact them. It would
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be hard for me...having to move to another community, leaving your
homeland (Sarah Lee [pseudonym] 2005).
Eric Grant [pseudonym] predicted that the first two years (after the move) would be the
toughest (2005).
Also, Sandra Shoyer-Beaver remarked that an influx of people into Kotzebue as a result
of a collocation would be a positive impact for Kotzebue but a negative one for the
people of Shishmaref (2005). Similarly, Archie Ferguson thought that the move would
create a tough situation for the people of Shishmaref and would be more positive than
negative for Kotzebue (2005). As Sarah Lee [pseudonym] in Kotzebue expressed it, “It
would probably be more tough on them than us here” (2005). Specific details about what
would be “tough” will be provided in the following sections.
Finally, there was wide-spread acknowledgment that it should be up to the community of
Shishmaref whether and where they want to move (e.g., Helen Bolen 2005, Lincoln Saito
2005, Denise Michels 2004).
5.3 Impacts on Nome/Kotzebue Culture
General. During the interviews, comments about potential cultural impacts on Nome or
Kotzebue culture were mainly positive. However, interviewees who chose to comment on
potential impacts on Shishmaref were generally more negative than positive in their
evaluation of what might happen as a result of collocation.
Several interviewees pointed out cultural similarities between Shishmaref and
Nome/Kotzebue. Robert Miller [pseudonym] from Kotzebue, stated “the cultures are
pretty much the same” (2005). Sarah Lee [pseudonym] from Kotzebue, remarked “our
cultures are very similar,” and that having a community which is rich in arts and culture
relocated to Kotzebue would be positive... “I'd love to learn from them,” she added
(2005).
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Ernest Norton in Kotzebue could not foresee any negative cultural impacts for Kotzebue,
since both groups are Ifupiaq and are related historically. He mentioned that these
connections are remembered through local oral histories (2005). Andrew Peterson, III,
stated that the majority of the population in Nome is Ifiupiaq and the move could
stimulate greater Native language use in Nome (2004).
Some of the more negative responses regarding potential impacts on culture came from
Nome, and addressed, primarily, consequences for Shishmaref:
... | definitely think that if they come here, they would lose a lot of their
cultural identity as a town. Because right now it is a small community and
most people know each other and people look out for each other for the
most part. And coming to Nome there are a lot of negative influences that
could be exerted, especially upon the children, that their parents and their
community would have difficulty counteracting. So, I think they’d lose a
lot of their cultural identity. Just because Nome is not even traditionally a
Native site’, so it’s much more western and, frankly, you can’t discount
the effect of the bars. Not only would you be losing a cultural identity,
you’d also be losing a fair amount of your community to alcoholism (B.J.
Wolter 2005).
Matt Ganley stated that the relocation of the population of Shishmaref would have serious
negative cultural impacts, which includes the fact that the culture of Shishmaref would
irrevocably become more “urban” (2005). Josie Hardy-Bahnke said that the assimilation
to Nome culture would be negative and that the specific linguistic and cultural
opportunities that exist in small, tight-knit communities like Shishmaref would not be
available in Nome (2005). Finally, Andrew Peterson, III, thought that a move to Nome
might lead to a “thinning out” of Shishmaref culture (2004).
Language. The issue of native language use was commented upon by many interviewees.
Ernest Norton thought it would be positive for Kotzebue, since it might enhance language
programs in Kotzebue. A similar position regarding Kotzebue was maintained by Guy
Adams (2005), Sarah Lee [pseudonym] (2005), Edward Ward (2005), and Melissa
* Recent evidence shows that Nome was inhabited before European expansion into Alaska. Archaeological
excavations during the summer of 2005 found a semi-subterranean house pit on the Snake River and "C
dates suggest it was inhabited about 260 BP (Pipkin 2005).
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Watkins [pseudonym] (2005). Denise Michels in Nome expressed her hope that a move
could bring back Ifiupiaq into the schools of Nome (2004).
Although Robert Miller [pseudonym] in Kotzebue stated that the languages are “pretty
much the same ... a few differences” (2005), several respondents pointed out important
linguistic differences. Fred Tocktoo in Nome remarked that the dialects of Wales,
Shishmaref, and Brevig Mission are very close but that the one in Nome is very different
(2004). Sarah Lee [pseudonym] in Kotzebue had the following to say:
It’s very different from here. Our language here is coastal ... it’s a dying
language ... we’re working very hard here to revitalize It ... we’re going
to start on the Kobuk River dialect (after beginning recording the coastal)
. it’s sponsored by NANA...there are probably only 10 percent fluent
speakers here and that probably includes a lot of the Kobuk speaker.
Shishmaref is different, more towards the Nome area (2005).
Archie Ferguson talked about a big language gap in Kotzebue (the young generation is
starting to speak Ifiupiaq again) and thought it would be good if the people of Shishmaref
would learn the Kotzebue dialect and vice versa. Looking into the future, he thought this
might result in a mix of dialects down the line (2005). Melissa Watkins [pseudonym]
commented on the threat of language mixing by stating: “any dialect or language is better
than none” (2005).
Several interviewees who spoke to language issues brought up the school system. Some
people (e.g., Ernest Norton 2005) thought the schools in Nome and Kotzebue could
handle the influx, given increased funding, while others (e.g., Lincoln Saito 2005, Fred
Tocktoo 2004) expressed the opinion that the systems are already maxed out. Similarly,
Willie Goodwin and Alex Whiting thought that the Shishmaref dialect would need to be
preserved, which would add pressure to the Kotzebue school system (2005).
The director of the Chukchi Campus of UAF in Kotzebue, Lincoln Saito, noted that the
college could easily absorb the increase in population (an addition is currently being
built). However, he expressed concern about the limited scholarship resources and the
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fact that Shishmaref is part of Bering Straits Native Corporation and not NANA (the
native corporations provide the majority of scholarships) (2005). Also, it would become
more difficult for Shishmaref kids to compete within the UA Scholars system, which
provides college funding for the top 10% of graduates from every high school.
Carving. Archie Ferguson thought it might be difficult for carvers from Shishmaref to
make a living in Kotzebue, since it is already home to 20 to 25 carvers (2005). This
would increase competition among carvers. Additionally, he pointed out that it is more
difficult in Kotzebue than in Shishmaref to obtain walrus ivory.
Andrew Peterson, III, on the other hand, stated that there already some carvers from
Shishmaref resident in Nome and a further influx might result in more artistic variety and
more business (2004). Sarah Lee [pseudonym] also thought there was room for additional
carvers in Kotzebue, and the Shishmaref carvers might have new ideas regarding
marketing of their products (2005).
Ernest Norton and Melissa Watkins [pseudonym] pointed out that the Northwest Arctic
Borough has a plan to promote carving sales, and that the Borough is already engaged in
marketing some of the Shishmaref carvings (2005). While Norton didn’t foresee negative
impacts, and thought that finding the ivory would not be a problem in Kotzebue, Watkins
thought that the powerful tradition of Shishmaref carving would be best continued in
Shishmaref. “Coming to Kotzebue would only water it down.” She also pointed out that
many Kotzebue carvers currently obtain their ivory from Shishmaref (2005).
Dancing. Most people in Kotzebue thought that the addition of Eskimo dancers from
Shishmaref would be positive for Kotzebue. Archie Ferguson and Ernest Norton (who
both talked about one Kotzebue dance group) thought that it would make for better
entertainment if there was more variety (2005). Sarah Lee [pseudonym] expressed a
similar thought:
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We lost a lot of our culture here, but for the last 15, 20 years we done a lot
of things like dancing. We’ve got two dance groups now. But our dancers
are very young people ... our culture would become richer with our
interaction with Shishmaref (2005).
Religion and Church. A few people brought up the issue of religion and churches. This
is of particular relevance in Kotzebue, since almost everyone in Shishmaref belongs to
the Lutheran Church, which is not represented in Kotzebue. Ernest Norton remarked that
there are a lot of churches to choose from in Kotzebue, but also that the community of
Shishmaref might want to add their own church (2005). Willie Goodwin and Alex
Whiting brought up the important issue that the people of Shishmaref might not want to
bury their dead in Kotzebue (2005). Eric Grant [pseudonym] from Kotzebue did not think
that religion would be a major impact, while no one in Nome addressed the issue (2005).
5.4 Impacts on Nome/Kotzebue Subsistence Practices
In general, responses from interviewees indicated a marked difference in potential
subsistence impacts between Nome and Kotzebue. While there were foreseeable
subsistence impacts in both locations, the situation in Nome appeared to be more
pronounced. For this reason, separate discussions are provided below for Nome and
Kotzebue.
Nome. Josie Hardy-Bahnke of Nome, thought that subsistence resources would be
severely impacted in a negative way if Shishmaref were to relocate to Nome (2005). Guy
Martin (Nome) predicted that the people in Nome would not want to share the resource
areas, which are already near capacity, with the newcomers from Shishmaref.
Shismaref people like to put away lots of seal and meat; they wouldn’t be
able to do that here. Right now their subsistence economy is thriving, why
should they come here and be forced into an economic society? (Guy
Martin 2005).
Bruce Tungwenuk and Matt Ganley took a rather critical perspective on the sustainability
of subsistence practices in Nome under the conditions of collocation. While it is certainly
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difficult to measure effects on subsistence before a move occurs, both were critical of the
resource base in the Nome area (2005). The resources that Shishmaref people largely
depend upon are vastly different than those readily available around Nome. Ugruk
(bearded seal), walrus and seal can be harvested from Nome, but this requires that parties
travel much greater distances than would be necessary from Shishmaref. Caribou are
present, but the addition of 600 people would put greater pressure on the herd that is
currently re-colonizing the Seward Peninsula after an absence of nearly 150 years. Moose
are already limited, and the pressure on this resource would need to be monitored.
Catches of fish resources (primarily salmon) in the Nome area, required for sustained
subsistence yield, have been sub-marginal for more than a decade.
Bruce Tungwenuk and Matt Ganley also commented that effects on the subsistence base,
and a reduction in the total resource consumption available to the new residents from
Shishmaref adversely affect the physical and mental health of these residents. In their
view, a reduced dependence on subsistence would be inevitable, because of: (a) the lack
of familiar resources (or the difficulty in obtaining them); (b) increased access to “store
bought” foods; and (c) the lack of subsistence camping areas (2005).
Thus, one of the greatest issues facing the collocated Shishmaref people in Nome wou!d
be providing adequate foods. Matt Ganley reported that “Percy Nayokpuk from
Shishmaref told me, ‘be sure to tell the people [in Nome and Kotzebue] that we’re a
hungry bunch!’”(2005).
B.J. Wolter, a biologist at Northwest campus, was also rather pessimistic regarding
resource availability. Asked whether existing animal populations could handle an influx
of experienced hunters, he responded:
Absolutely not, absolutely not. Number one, in the past four years the
caribou herd has only come close enough to Nome to be hunted in one of
those years. At least to my knowledge. I don’t know about this year, but
two years before that they didn’t even come remotely close to Nome. The
moose regulations ... I’m not even sure they have moose around
Shishmaref. But around here, there’s not nearly enough moose to handle
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extra pressure. The musk ox herds, it’s already difficult to get a musk ox
tag, and that would make it virtually impossible. And the fish runs
certainly can’t handle it. There are no fish in the rivers right now.
I don’t think you can do sea mammals out of Nome. I mean, occasionally,
if you go down to Safety, you’ll see people that have gone out seal
hunting. But not a lot. If they go out, they might have been out for the
entire day and got two or three seals. So, I just think... maybe if they went out towards Sledge Island ... but I’ve heard that the channel between the
island and the mainland is relatively dangerous because it’s a very deep
trench there, and the current comes through. And most people in Nome
don’t have ocean going boats, so they’d be taking flat bottom rivet boats in
the Bering Sea, and while you can do it, they’re relatively small boats, they don’t have a keel, they can’t handle the swells necessarily. I’ve seen
whales around here, but not a lot. I don’t think that marine mammals
would be a realistic possibility for them, maybe an occasional boon, but
not realistic staple. ... I’ve never seen a bearded seal around here. The
only thing I’ve seen is the ring seal and the fur seals (B.J. Wolter 2005).
There were also some positive assessments of the situation in Nome. For example,
Melanie White [pseudonym] said that, if the Shishmaref people were to live in Nome, the
local animal population could handle the increased hunting pressure (2005). She also
stated that there are plenty of walrus and seals available. In her view, the main problem is
that few people hunt sea-mammals anymore in Nome. When she first came to Nome, in
1961 or 1962, people were still hunting extensively. As time went by, the older people
who were real hunters passed away, and the kids went out of the area for school. That
was the time “when things started slacking off in Nome.” Thus, she thinks that if the
Shishmaref people moved to Nome, they could use the coast all the way to Cape
Woolley.
Denise Michels expects that food and fuel costs would be lower in Nome for the people
of Shishmaref than where they are now, and noted that there is enough space for berry
picking around Nome (2004). Andrew Peterson, III, also thought that the impacts would
be manageable, since people would help each other out, and Nomeites could teach the
Shishmaref people how to practice subsistence in their area. Also, many Shishmaref
people know the Nome area quite well. A drawback of the Nome situation Andrew
mentioned is that you need a car to practice subsistence (2004).
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Andrew also touched upon the question of land ownership and was wondering whether
the regional corporation (BSNC) would help them with land; maybe some land swap
(giving up Shishmaref land and taking other land). The vice president of Land and
Resources of BNSC, however, had a less optimistic view:
And while the availability of resources is one issue, the availability of
adequate lands to camp on and utilize for procuring those resources is
another. In the immediate vicinity of Nome, very little land is available for “public use.” Sitnasuak Native Corporation (SNC) and Bering Straits
Native Corporation (BSNC) have campsite programs, but it is unlikely that any special provisions would be made to accommodate Shishmaref. This is primarily due to the lack of any additional suitable lands for campsites, and the political difficulty of allocating a shareholder-owned resource [the
land] for use and occupancy for a specific group of shareholders. BSNC
does have a campsite program for all shareholders [and the Shishmaref
people are BSNC shareholders] with available lands, but the location of
this area [inland around Salmon Lake] would probably not be desirable to the Shishmaref relocatees who have derived the bulk of their livelihood
from the ocean (Matt Ganley 2005).
Melanie White [pseudonym] also stressed the importance of subsistence for people from
a village. She called it some kind of “built-in thing” and testified that, when she moved
out of the area she comes from, she felt like something was missing. When living in the
village, they had depended more on themselves. In the fall they would eat a particular
kind of food, and in the spring they would have another kind of food. It felt as if “there
was a hole,” when they moved to Nome with all the modern conveniences (2005).
Kotzebue. The situation in Kotzebue seems to be less problematic. Ernest Norton
predicted that the people from Shishmaref would go back home seasonally to hunt, as is
practiced by residents in Kotzebue from Deering (2005). Norton suspects that people
would store equipment, etc., in their allotments and old homes in Shishmaref, and return
there for subsistence purposes. He expects no big impact on resource availability, and
pointed out that there is already a sheefish trade with Shishmaref. He thought that 50
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additional campsites in the region would not be a problem, and that Kotzebue could
accommodate that.
Robert Miller’s [pseudonym] assessment is similar, although slightly less positive.
Regarding subsistence practices in Kotzebue, he had the following to say:
Some impact, but very little ... they hunt different animals than we do.
There would be some adjustment. ... The biggest [problem] would be the
land. There is no [extra] land in Kotzebue. ... There is a lot of land
available [for subsistence camps], but then it would be up to the
shareholders at NANA and KIC to determine whether they want to open
up their lands so [Shishmaref] people can have camps (2005).
Sandra Shoyer-Beaver felt that, as far as resource availability is concerned, there were
“enough resources for everybody” (2005) This statement was qualified when she noted
that there really are not too many salmon, and that there may be problems of availability
with this resource. Sheefish are abundant, and as an early spring resource, they are an
important addition at a period in the annual cycle when other subsistence foods are
scarce. The assignment of campsites for subsistence purposes would be up to the Native
corporations (NANA and KIC), as they are the primary landowners in the region.
Sarah Lee [pseudonym] predicted some resource pressure, especially on fishing.
Campsites would also be a problem, since they are all taken. “I’m a shareholder and I
have trouble finding a campsite” (2005). In addition, there would be more noise on the
Chukchi Sea from boats and snow machines.
Finding a place to dry your meat...there’s very little in the way of that
[space] here in Kotzebue ... we compete for space down here and uptown
... there would be a burden right there (Sarah Lee [pseudonym] 2005).
Archie Ferguson predicted a change of harvested subsistence foods (e.g., less walrus), but
thought that Shishmaref people could easily adjust to local subsistence resources. In
addition, he suggested that subsistence foods could be shared. Given the more abundant
resources in Kotzebue (e.g., caribou), Archie did not foresee too much subsistence
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pressure. Likewise, he was positive regarding the availability of campsites. In his view, a
bigger problem would be that Shishmaref people would have “nothing to call home”.
Thus, he would expect them to travel back and forth to Shishmaref to hunt seasonally.
Archie also predicted an impact on Search and Rescue operations in Kotzebue, since the
Shishmaref people are not used to specific travel conditions around Kotzebue (different
snow, trees, etc.).
There are also some pessimistic voices in Kotzebue. For example, Alex Whiting (2005)
predicted fierce competition for ugruk (bearded seal) in Kotzebue. He also mentioned that
there is not enough land for camp sites in the area, and that all the good places are already
taken. Willie Goodwin (2005) added that there would be more competition for birds and
waterfowl. In their view, this would create problems for Shishmaref people in Kotzebue
regarding subsistence practices. Their conclusion was that one cannot successfully
disassociate a people from their land.
5.5 Impacts on Health at Nome and Kotzebue
As mentioned in the previous section, changes in subsistence practices might lead to
changes in what people eat. Alex Whiting (2005) in Kotzebue mentioned that if the
people of Shishmaref will not be getting their traditional foods, there would be negative
health impacts. Guy Adams (2005) in Kotzebue, complained that most families in
Kotzebue do not eat enough subsistence foods. Noah Naylor (2005) in Kotzebue sees the
combination of subsistence and store-bought foods as one of the problems awaiting the
relocatees. Matt Ganley (2005) in Nome mentioned that store bought foods are typically
higher in sugar, starch, and saturated fat content than traditional foods. As a result,
diseases such as type 2 diabetes are rising to epidemic proportions among Native groups
that have experienced such a shift in dietary habits. Matt predicts similar consequences if
the population of Shishmaref were to move to Nome.
The biggest health concerns expressed by interviewees were the effects of alcohol and
drugs, which would be much more readily available in Nome or Kotzebue than in
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Shishmaref. For example, Fred Tocktoo (2004) pointed out that Shishmaref is a “dry”
community and that moving to Nome, which is a “wet” community, would increase
alcohol consumption, which in turn would lead to a number of social problems.
Kotzebue, on the other hand, is a “damp” community, which means that alcohol is more
readily available than in Shishmaref but cannot be purchased in town as in Nome. Many
interviewees in Kotzebue (e.g., Guy Adams, Archie Ferguson, Willie Goodwin, Sandra
Shoyer-Beaver — all 2005) pointed out that collocation might not only increase alcohol
consumption among people from Shishmaref, but also increase the number of bootleggers
and alcohol consumers from Kotzebue, thereby putting additional stress on law
enforcement.
Archie Ferguson (2005) also pointed out that a relocation of 600 Shishmaref residents to
Kotzebue might impact the so-called “local option law”, which regulates whether a
community is wet, dry, or damp. Since there are approximately 1,300 voters in Kotzebue,
so many additional voters might make a change in voting results next time around.
Most interviewees in Nome acknowledged that the problem would be even bigger in
Nome. As B.J. Wolter put it:
... when coming to a town that has something like nine or ten bars and any
number of liquor stores, and some of them have absolutely no scruples
about selling someone who’s obviously drinking a pint of whiskey a day, a
pint or a quart of whisky a day. They know it, they come in and are taking
payment in pennies. But that person’s still ‘getting their alcohol (B.J. Wolter 2005)
A problem closely related to alcohol is illegal drugs; readily available in both cities.
Ernest Norton in Kotzebue thought that because of the limitations on the sale of alcohol
there, drugs are even more prevalent in Kotzebue (2005). Nevertheless, as B.J. Wolter
pointed out, illegal drugs are easier to get and cheaper in Nome than in Shishmaref
(2005).
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Several people stated, however, that substance abuse is based on individual decisions.
Melissa Watkins [pseudonym] in Kotzebue made the point that these decisions will be
made not just by individuals, but by families, and everything would depend on how much
the people of Shishmaref would be embraced by the people of Kotzebue (2005). Andrew
Peterson, III, and Melanie White [pseudonym] in Nome, made similar points in stating
that people need to make choices for family, subsistence, education, etc., and against
substance abuse (2004). Denise Michels in Nome thought that additional property tax
income could pay for additional services, to help make informed choices (2004).
While many people acknowledged the potential problems in relocating from a “dry” to a
“damp” or “wet” community (e.g., Guy Adams, Robert Boyle, Eric Grant [pseudonym]),
others pointed out that “dry” does not mean that there is no alcohol available (2005).
Melanie White [pseudonym] in Nome had read in the newspaper, just before talking to
us, that someone had been arrested for bootlegging a case of whiskey into Shishmaref
(2004). Hugh Hollgren and Noah Naylor in Kotzebue made the point that you can get
alcohol in dry villages. As Noah put it, “‘... it does not really matter whether wet, damp,
or dry, there will always be a core of people who drink, and bootleggers (2005).
Finally, some respondents thought that problems with substance abuse would be a
temporary issue. Eric Grant [pseudonym] called it a “problem of adjustment,” which
would take some time (2005). Similarly, Andrew Peterson, III, in Nome, stated that
individuals would need to learn how to deal with alcohol and drugs, and that after a while
they would get used to it (2004). Hugh Hollgren in Kotzebue, pointed out that substance
abuse is one of the biggest issues throughout the state, and that Kotzebue had several
excellent programs in place to deal with it (2005).
The predictable health impacts expressed by interviewees were not limited to change in
diet and substance abuse. Some felt that the above-mentioned “problems of adjustment”
also relate to mental health and psychological problems. While several interviewees
alluded to them in passing, a few expanded on them. Lincoln Saito in Kotzebue said, “...
my instinct says that there will be health problems; whenever you crowd people,
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problems arise” (2005). Guy Martin in Nome had broader perspective on problems of
adjustment:
The community’s overall health and well-being would also suffer if the
residents were asked to relocate to the proposed sites. They would lose traditional values, traditional support systems. In a village, when you have a problem you go to an elder-someone you know who is knowledgeable
about specific questions you have. In Nome or Kotzebue when you have a problem you go to an agency and talk to someone you don’t even know. Those Shishmaref people are just gonna stay quiet, they don’t want to tell
someone they don’t even know about their problems. When they come
here they will be uncomfortable (Guy Martin 2005).
Whatever the exact health impacts will be, the question arose during the interviews
whether health services in Nome or Kotzebue would be able to deal with so many
additional people. There was not much agreement among interviewees about this
question. Several people in Nome and Kotzebue stated that the local health service
infrastructure was already at or beyond capacity (e.g., Archie Ferguson, Matt Ganley,
Sarah Lee [pseudonym], Fred Tocktoo, all 2004-2005). Others (e.g., Robert Miller
[pseudonym], Hugh Hollgren, Denise Michels, Melanie White [pseudonym]) maintained
that health services were adequate and could handle the additional people (2004-2005).
Nevertheless, most interviewees agreed that an expansion of health services would be
necessary, even if they did not agree as to how feasible and effective such expansion
would be. Some people (e.g., Josie Hardy-Bahnke, Sandra Shoyer-Beaver) expressed the
hope that the necessary expansions might increase the quality of health care in Nome or
Kotzebue (2005).
Ken Adkisson in Nome made the suggestion that it might be better to improve health
services (i.e., clinics) in villages, as well as airport services to villages, rather than
collocating, and causing expansion of services in Nome or Kotzebue. Ken closed his
comments with the rhetorical question, “... is Nome able to handle its own
problems?”(2004).
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5.6 Impacts on Social Structure in Nome and Kotzebue
In a number of interviews, when discussing potential social impacts, the historical
experiences of King Islanders moving into Nome came up. Although the King Island case
was discussed previously in Chapter 3, the perspectives of non-King Island residents of
Nome and Kotzebue were not included. These perspectives are relevant here, in
addressing the question of whether Shishmaref would encounter similar levels of
discrimination and segregation in Nome and Kotzebue as did the King Island community
in Nome.
Denise Michels in Nome expressed that at the time the King Islanders’ collocated, a
Segregationist atmosphere was prevalent in Nome during the 1960s. Denise pointed out
that the Nome of today is much more culturally aware and sensitive than in the 1960s
(2004). Similarly, Andrew Peterson, III, said that Nome, back then, was more of a “white
town” (2004). Both were confident that Nomites today would be more receptive to a
collocation from Shishmaref.
Several people in Kotzebue (e.g., Guy Adams, Archie Ferguson, Emest Norton) pointed
out that their city is generally less discriminatory than Nome. None of them thought that a
“King Island situation” could happen in Kotzebue (2005). Robert Miller [pseudonyin]
made a similar point, because “they [the residents of Shishmaref and Kotzebue] are the
same people,” but acknowledged that some separation might occur (2005). Lincoln Saito,
without explicitly mentioning the King Island collocation thought that any Native village
could integrate more easily in Kotzebue than in Nome (2005). Melissa Watkins
[pseudonym] in Kotzebue made the point that Kotzebue and Shishmaref could learn from
the King Island experience (2005).
Matt Ganley in Nome brought up a positive aspect of the King Islanders’ experience: the
retention of a “village identity” by living in their own distinct neighborhood. Matt
thought a similar situation could occur if the people of Shishmaref moved to Nome, since
a separate housing development would most likely be built in Nome to accommodate
Shishmaref (2005).
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However, while it was pointed out that there are several possible sites for additional
housing developments in Nome (e.g., Denise Michels), some interviewees in Kotzebue
mentioned that there was no room for expansion “on the spit” (Kotzebue) (2004). Other
interviewees assumed “that Kotzebue would expand ‘up the hill,’ across the lagoon to the
east of the city” (Sandra Shoyer-Beaver 2005).
However, some interviewees in Kotzebue (e.g., Eric Grant [pseudonym]) felt that a
separate Shishmaref neighborhood “up the hill” might create a number of problems
(2005). For example, Noah Taylor expressed that this would create an ethnic subdivision
in a city which currently is not structured along ethnic/village lines, which would set the
Shishmaref people spatially aside from everyone else (2005). Also, Willie Goodwin said
that the location on the hill is far away from ocean, which does not fit a group of people
traditionally oriented toward the sea (2005). However, Melissa Watkins [pseudonym]
pointed out that Kotzebue people would likely eventually move “up the hill” as well,
which might alleviate some of the problem (2005).
Willie Goodwin and Alex Whiting also brought up an “issue of fairness”, that new houses
for the people of Shishmaref might be perceived negatively because Kotzebue residents
currently do not have enough adequate housing. Thus, social tensions would seem
unavoidable with collocation (2005).
Several interviewees also anticipated social friction in Nome following collocation,
although for different reasons than in Kotzebue. The demographic structure of Nome,
which historically has been characterized by non-Native groups, has recently shifted to
having a more than 50 percent Native segment. Moving Shishmaref into Nome would
thus create a significant Native majority in town. Guy Martin thought that the non-native
community in Nome would see the increased native population as a threat to their control
and influence (2005). Matt Ganley felt likewise, and added that there are also long-
standing differences between individual communities in the region, and Shishmaref
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people may think those differences were invoked to keep new arrivals at a distance or to
relegate them to a particular place within the social structure of Nome (2005).
Despite these less-than-optimistic projections, the majority of respondents in Nome and
Kotzebue felt that the people of Shishmaref would “fit in”. In Kotzebue, Archie Ferguson
(and several others) pointed out that the people of Shishmaref have relatives there, they
visit Kotzebue a lot, and some have moved to Kotzebue (2005). In addition, Kotzebue is
home to a “tent city” during the summer where visitors from various villages stay, and
engage in subsistence activities or to attend trade fairs or other events. Ferguson
acknowledged, however, that some Kotzebue residents - especially those without
relatives from Shishmaref — might perceive the Shishmaref people as outsiders (2005).
Some interviewees in Nome expressed that as the regional hub of the Bering Straits
region, Nome is visited by Shishmaref residents on a more frequent basis than Kotzebue.
People have friends and relatives there, go there for medical appointments, or stop by on
the way to Anchorage or Unalakleet (Andrew Peterson, III 2004, B.J. Wolter 2005).
However, Fred Tocktoo pointed out that visiting a place is different from living in a
place, which affects the entire social structure of a community (2004).
5.7 Other Impacts and Concerns
The interviews conducted in Nome and Kotzebue followed the structure of the interview
script (see Appendix B), in mainly discussing potential cultural, subsistence, health, and
social impacts. However, during talks and interviews a variety of other issues and
concerns came up that were somewhat outside the above topics. These “other” concerns
that were raised most frequently during the interviews included: (a) potential
infrastructure and economic impacts; (b) the importance of having adequate
communication and community discussion before collocation; and (c) the basic rights of
Shishmaref. These are briefly discussed below.
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5.7.1 Infrastructure and Economic Impacts
Many of those interviewed in Nome and Kotzebue mentioned potential infrastructure
constraints of their communities when considering a possible collocation. These concerns
included electricity, water, sewage, garbage systems, as well as housing, and social,
health, and educational services. Some of these topics were discussed in previous sections
of this report, and it is obvious from the interviews in Nome and Kotzebue that these
issues and concerns will need to be assessed for each community.
It was brought up that the issue of providing adequate housing in Kotzebue and Nome —
mentioned in the previous section — is also linked to ownership. In Kotzebue, the property
“up the hill” is owned by Kikiktagruk Inupiat Corporation (KIC), the village corporation
for Kotzebue, which is interested in developing that land (Ernest Norton 2005, who
works for KIC) either by leasing or selling it. At the same time, Kotzebue might have to
introduce a general property tax to finance the infrastructure upgrades, and for this the
people of Shishmaref might be resented (Archie Ferguson 2005).
Although there appears to be fewer space constraints in Nome than in Kotzebue regarding
new housing subdivisions, providing housing for up to 600 additional people is an
important issue. In this regard, B.J. Wolter foresees a potential economic problem:
Like I said, the housing market, just because there is so little private land around Nome. I think one of the major issues for adding 600 people to this town would be whether or not they could afford to actually live here.
Because rents, they keep on going up and up and up. Average rent in Nome for a two-bedroom apartment is probably between 900 and 1,200 dollars a month, for a nice place, you’re talking $1,300 to $1,700 a month
and that’s right now without 600 extra people. There’s a very noticeable
lack of available housing. With an extra 600 people there’s going to be even less available housing, it’s going to be even more expensive. And
then if Nova Gold, which they’re planning on doing right now, does start
up operation next year, then you’re bringing in all those people. The price
of rent and housing is just going to be astronomical (B.J. Wolter 2005).
The possibility of Shishmaref moving to Nome or Kotzebue was often viewed from the
perspective of economic and educational opportunity. Many interviewees pointed out that
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it would be difficult for the people of Shishmaref to find employment in Nome or
Kotzebue, and the transition to city schools might be far from easy.
Finally, moving to Nome or Kotzebue could result in organizational problems. As a result
of ANCSA, Shishmaref — like any other recognized Native village in Alaska — has a
village corporation, and is part of a regional corporation. Since Nome is the seat of the
regional corporation (BSNC) of which Shishmaref is a part, a move to Nome would
present fewer obstacles in that respect than relocating to Kotzebue.
In Kotzebue, the situation would likely be more complicated, since Shishmaref would
find itself in the territory of a different regional Native corporation (NANA). This could
also involve the regional non-profit corporations, which provide health and social
services for Native villages in the region. Shishmaref is currently member of Kawerak
(based in Nome), and the Kotzebue region is served by Maniilag. As the president of
Maniilaq, Helen Bolen, stated, it is unclear how tribal membership would work for
Shishmaref, were they to relocate to Kotzebue (2005). The question was also raised as to
whether Shishmaref would retain its own tribal government (within the structures of
NANA and Maniilaq) or be “adopted” by the Kotzebue IRA.
5.7.2 The Value of Adequate Communication
Several interviewees mentioned the critical necessity of informing and involving the
affected communities early on in the collocation process, as a means of alleviating some
of the potential social tension. For instance, Denise Michels mentioned that the City of
Nome would hold a community meeting if Shishmaref were relocated to Nome (2004). In
the same vein, Archie Ferguson stated that for Kotzebue “if the move becomes a reality,
meetings with governments and residents will be necessary” and providing sufficient
information will be critical (2005). As Edward Ward in Kotzebue and Denise Michels in
Nome stressed, careful planning would be necessary. Anything less would result in
multiplying the potential adverse cultural impacts of the collocation (2004-2005).
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5.7.3 Basic Rights of Shishmaref
Although a variety of potential adverse impacts on Nome or Kotzebue were identified
during the interviews, it was obvious that interviewees were aware that the main adverse
impacts would be on Shishmaref. Thus, the following statement by Josie Hardy-Bahnke
in Nome likely represents the most widely held position in Nome and Kotzebue about this
issue:
Shishmaref community members and households should be able to make
their own personal choice of where they want to relocate. This decision
could include any community of their choice whether it is Nome,
Kotzebue, Brevig Mission, Kivalina, or Anchorage. Individual families
should have the decision making authority how they want to spend public money and what is the best choice for their family members. Some may
want to relocate to an urban setting or to another dry community. Public
dollars should be used to the families maximum benefit- culturally,
socially, subsistence, health, etc (Josie Hardy-Bahnke 2005).
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PART THREE: SYNTHESIS AND CONCLUSIONS
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CHAPTER 6: SYNTHESIS OF LIBRARY AND ORAL RESEARCH
6.1. Introduction
This chapter provides a brief synthesis of the relevant information gathered from the
literature research on relocations in the circumpolar North, and from the contemporary
views of Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue, regarding potential impacts of a Shishmaref
collocation. To a certain extent, the historical case studies of relocations in the
circumpolar North (discussed in Part 1 of this report) have provided a framework and
screen for evaluating the contemporary information obtained through the personal
interviews (discussed in Part 2).
6.2 The Historical Case Studies
In undertaking the literature research discussed in Part 1 of this report, it was known to
the assessment team that the history of the 20" century in the circumpolar North has been
characterized by a multitude of relocations. As demonstrated in Chapter 2, each region of
the circumpolar North — with the possible exception of Fennoscandia — had been affected
by relocations. However, it became obvious during the search for relevant literature how
little had been written about the social and cultural impacts of these relocations. Thus, a
comprehensive study of the cultural and social impacts of circumpolar relocations is not
possible, and could only be realized through additional fieldwork and oral history
research.
Relocations, that is, movements of human groups from one place of residence to another,
have been a part of life for northern communities throughout their history. Historically,
many groups were nomadic or semi-nomadic until recently, and seasonal movements
were a routine part of traditional cultural adaptations. Also, some groups which were
more or less sedentary year-round experienced periodic relocations, due to shifts in
resources, catastrophes, or other events.
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However, during the 20" century (and before that time in some areas of the North), a
completely different kind of northern relocation emerged. This new type of movement
was no longer part of an annual cycle, or of adaptations to the natural and social
environment, but was triggered largely by political actions that took place in the South.
These actions radically changed the nature of settlement patterns of indigenous
communities. Institutions such as trading stations, schools, and missions became an
important factor in determining the movements of indigenous communities, and often
resulted in the establishment of Native villages in locations, which exist until today.
While in most cases, these processes would not be called “forced relocations”, they were
not necessarily “voluntary”, because often there were no alternatives offered to the
individuals and groups involved. In any case, these developments, most of them
completed by the middle of the 20" century, marked the beginning of a phase in which
movements and relocations by indigenous communities were no longer controlled by
local needs and initiatives alone, but were also constrained by the presence of new
institutions and structures (e.g., schools), which were difficult and expensive to move.
The historical case studies considered in Part 1 do not belong to the processes mentioned
above: they are neither community adaptations to their environments nor state-induced
population concentrations. Instead, this type of relocations — most characteristic for the
second half of the 20" century — affected already sedentary communities which were
moved or dispersed for reasons that followed the logic of government needs instead of
local ones. Due to the transformations of the first half of the 20° century, these
relocations necessitated complex state interventions, as Native settlements were being
filled with expensive infrastructure. This “infrastructure trap” continues to hamper the
adaptive movement of northern communities up to the present day.
While the indigenous peoples of the North have a long history of adapting to a harsh
environment through seasonal mobility and periodic abandonment of sites, the state-
sponsored relocations of the 20" century have typically not resulted in adaptive
advantages. Through the above-mentioned “infrastructure traps”, state-sponsored
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relocations often result in individuals and groups which feel powerless in their new
surroundings and unable to move away from locations which they did not chose.
A closer examination of the relocations shows that most of them took place in the Soviet
Union/Russia, while Greenland (apart from Fennoscandia) was least affected. Given the
fact that most of them were state-sponsored, the frequency of occurrences speaks to the
relative weight of state concerns vis-a-vis local needs. Obviously, the Soviet state paid
least attention to indigenous concerns, while Denmark attempted to minimize local
disruptions, albeit in a paternalistic fashion. Alaska and Canada occupied the middle
ground in that respect.
Notwithstanding these differences triggered by national policies, there are a number of
similarities that can be noted. Generally speaking, state-sponsored relocations in the
North seem to result in many more adverse than beneficial impacts. Because northern
communities were exposed to a variety of external influence throughout the 20" century,
it is difficult to sort out which social and cultural developments were caused primarily by
relocations. However, by comparing the trajectories of relocated communities to
neighboring and/or related non-relocated communities, impacts attributable to relocation
can be discerned, some of which are described below.
Subsistence. Adverse impacts to subsistence appear in those cases where the new
location is bigger and less rural than the home site. This is not only due to increased
resource competition but also a consequence of limited access to traditional subsistence
areas, either because of development (e.g., in the case of dams) or because of physical
separation from the ancestral lands. More often than not, this is an expression of the fact
that state agencies, for which accessibility and upgraded services seem more important
than productive subsistence areas, plan and conduct the move.
Social Structure. Social impacts appear to be either positive or negative depending
primarily on whether a community is relocated into one or more already inhabited
settlements, or to a new site. Situations in which communities are relocated into existing
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villages or towns almost always result in social and economic discrimination of the
newcomers. In the situation where a community moves to a new site, it appears important
as to whether the community chose to move to the new site (as in the case of
Holikachuk/Grayling), or is at least supportive of the relocation. If this is not the case (as
in Thule and Chisabibi), the main problem is not social discrimination but social
disintegration and apathy.
If a community is dispersed to more than one already inhabited settlement, a kind of
“diaspora” (split up) situation can emerge (e.g., Naukan). This, in turn, often leads to a
strengthening of ties within the affected community and increased ethnicity. Thus, while
increased social coherence within could be seen as a potentially positive impact, it often
comes at the price of social discrimination by others or a loss of political autonomy. At
the same time, increased group awareness is not an automatic result of such a
constellation; total assimilation is certainly a possibility, although the case studies
analyzed for this report did not provide an example for such a scenario. This consequence
is similar to what some communities experience when their settlement is dominated by
others (e.g., King Island in Nome).
Culture and Health. The available literature tends to indicate that collocating with an
existing community would have greater cultural impacts than relocating to a new site,
while an involuntary relocation against the will of the community would be more
detrimental than a voluntary relocation initiated by the community. Other important
factors are dispersal to more than one community, the maintenance of subsistence
activities, the amount of pressure to assimilate to the new community, and the level of
discrimination experienced by members of the relocated community.
It is difficult to arrive at a clear synthesis of the overall cultural and health impacts of
circumpolar relocations based on available literature. There is not much published
information addressing these issues, and what is published is ambiguous. Native language
retention, an important indicator of cultural processes, typically does not fare well under
conditions of relocation. However, in many parts of the North, Native languages are
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under pressure no matter whether the community had been relocated or not. Also, the
relocation cases from Greenland and the East Canadian Arctic do not seem to indicate a
loss of Native language competence. Language loss might be somewhat independent
from relocations. Moreover, there is no indication that relocations strengthen language
retention. One conclusion that can be drawn from published literature is that relocations
do not have a significant influence on the continued use of Native languages. Another
possible interpretation of the information is that the effect on language retention depends
primarily on where the community relocates. Further research is necessary to clarify this
point.
Another ambiguous cultural consequence is what might be called “commodification” of
cultural activities. This means that certain distinct and recognizable cultural activities
(e.g., dancing or carving) are not being forgotten or abandoned but, instead, become
professionalized for a predominantly outside audience (e.g., the King Island dancers). It is
a matter of perspective whether such developments are classified as positive or negative
impacts. While such developments encourage the reproduction of Native cultural
traditions and are often economically successful, they lead to significant modifications of
these traditions in the direction of what is appreciated by the majority society and what
can be marketed as a cultural commodity.
Even if poorly documented, the available literature indicates there have also been positive
health effects with some relocations, especially if they occurred to more centrally located
places with better health infrastructure. However, at such locations, instances of alcohol
and drug abuse typically increase, as does the rate of mental health problems and
suicides. While one can argue that the positive and negative health impacts cancel each
other out, it needs to be pointed out that the positive health impacts come at the cost of
cultural assimilation. Thus, from a perspective of “cultural” impacts, health parameters do
not seem to speak in favor of relocations.
King Island. The “King Island model” (see Chapter 3) is the result of relocation into an
already settled community, in which social discrimination was rampant. However, the
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impacts exemplified by this model were softened by the long-standing relationships with
the host community, and therefore, some King Islanders had made the move voluntarily.
While the relocation of King Islanders to Nome had many negative impacts on the
community, King Island is today a recognized and successful part of Nome. Most
importantly, the awareness of being a King Islander and, thus, having a distinct cultural
tradition has not disappeared. Parts of the King Island culture, however, were made into
marketable commodities, which has also been beneficial to the host community (Nome).
Naukan. The “Naukan model” (see Chapter 2) is somewhat similar to the King Island
model, although the Naukan move was not voluntary, but a classical example of a “forced
relocation”. Also, the people of Naukan were moved more than once, which resulted in a
diaspora (split up) situation. While the awareness of being a distinct cultural and ethnic
group has been retained among the descendants of former Naukan residents, the negative
impacts are even more visible than in the King Island case. Naukan has apparently never
found a real “home base”, and social and cultural recognition by the host communities is
lacking.
Mary’s Igloo. Although the case of Mary’s Igloo was only briefly discussed in Chapter 2
due to the almost non-existent literature on the subject, the question can be posed as to
whether it provides a separate “Mary’s Igloo model” for relocation. While superficially
similar to the King Island and Naukan models, i.e., a community moved to an area
already inhabited by others, the long-term effects appear different. The limited
information available portrays a community that is gradually “fading away”. Without
further studies it is not possible to determine whether this is a result of a lack of
leadership, or physical constraints. Since Mary’s Igloo never faced such a dominant host
community in Teller as did the relocatees from King Island and Naukan, it can be
hypothesized that the social and cultural pressure was too low to maintain a separate
cultural or social identity.
Chisasibi. Several of the cases discussed in Chapter 2 involved relocations to sites not
previously occupied by other groups. Among those, the “Chisasibi model” seems to
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present a worst-case scenario. Although further studies would be needed to determine the
specific reasons for these outcomes, it is evident that the community did not want to
move. Moreover, the structure of the new site appears to have discouraged traditional
subsistence activities, and encouraged cultural assimilation. The result was a sad picture
of cultural disintegration. However, the “Thule model’, although also a “forced
relocation”, provides a model for a slightly better outcome, primarily because subsistence
harvests were continued, and there was less pressure to culturally assimilate.
Holikachuk/Grayling. The “Holikachuk/Grayling model” appears to represent the best-
case scenario of 20" century relocations. The fact that the new location (Grayling) was
not already occupied by another group contributed to the positive outcome. At the same
time, unlike Chisasibi and Thule, the community itself (Holikachuk) had decided to move
and took a lot of initiative in the actual process of relocating, which seems to have been
most important.
6.3 Contemporary Thought on Collocation in Shishmaref, Nome, and Kotzebue
6.3.1 Shishmaref
Virtually everyone interviewed in Shishmaref said that they would prefer not to collocate
to Nome or Kotzebue, with a variety of reasons expressed for not wanting to move to
either city (see Part 2). The majority of people interviewed said that Nome and Kotzebue
are considered equally bad choices, although some differences between the two were
noted when being considered as collocation sites. A synthesis of the thoughts and feelings
expressed by Shishmaref people is presented below.
Culture. Most people feel that collocating would result in the Ifiupiaq language dialect
spoken at Shishmaref becoming mixed, and subsequently lost. Many people feel that
Shishmaref carving and sewing would decline in quantity and quality, because: (a) the
same raw materials would not be available; (b) alcohol would take a toll; (c) the western
lifestyle and job opportunities would lure people away; and (d) the values and beliefs
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about the objects carved or sewn would change. Shishmaref is characterized by a trusting
and friendly atmosphere with many people leaving their doors open. Many feel this
would no longer be possible in Nome or Kotzebue, and the current image of Shishmaref
as a friendly and trusting place would be lost. Many people feel that the very “identity” of
Shishmaref would be threatened. Many people in Shishmaref feel that they don’t want to
be buried in some other place, but want to be close to where previous family members
have been laid to rest.
Subsistence. Although most Shishmaref residents feel that hunting, fishing, and gathering
of subsistence foods would continue if they were to collocate to Nome or Kotzebue, they
agreed that practicing a subsistence lifestyle at either location would become
considerably harder, causing subsistence to fall off. Also, some feel that in order to
ensure that subsistence practices would be able to continue, Shishmaref people would
need to be compensated for equipment already purchased and kept in Shishmaref, and for
the cost of new equipment needed in either Nome or Kotzebue. It can therefore be
concluded that the cultural significance of their subsistence lifestyle would definitely
diminish in Nome or Kotzebue, because of the separation of the Shishmaref people from —
their ancestral territory, and the loss of the daily use of a place-based traditional
knowledge of the land, climate, weather, and subsistence resources that has evolved over
centuries.
Health. Generally, Shishmaref residents predict that the health of their community would
decline, even though the availability of health care facilities and increased hygienic
conditions would likely improve in Nome and Kotzebue. The potential for significant
increase in the use and abuse of alcohol and drugs is a prime concern, and this potential
increase in substance abuse is seen by most to be linked to many other social and health
problems. Also, the subsistence lifestyle is seen by most people to be a key factor in
keeping people mentally healthy, through both diet and exercise, as is staying away from
alcohol and drugs. Good mental health for most Shishmaref people, therefore, is
associated both with their subsistence lifestyle and occupying their traditional land
around Sarichef Island.
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Social Structure. For most of the Shishmaref people, the impact on the social structure
of Shishmaref from collocating to either Nome or Kotzebue is seen as the community
moving towards western assimilation and the loss of political autonomy and power over
decisions within their community. Others predict the emergence of the nuclear family as
an isolated unit, and a shifting away from networks of extended families. Predictions are
that the nature of elder and child care would also become more dependent on professional
service institutions instead of family.
People also predict that the mixed-economy that maintains itself in Shishmaref today
could not. sustain itself in either Nome or Kotzebue. This would lead to greater
dependence on cash, cash employment, and use of stores for food. This would further
contribute to a diminished subsistence lifestyle and a changed social structure. All of
these predictions clearly indicate the feeling that Shishmaref would change to a more
western/European social structure.
6.3.2 Nome and Kotzebue
Although many of those interviewed in this study in Nome and Kotzebue are aware of
potential problems collocation could cause, most people would welcome Shishmaref
should collocation take place, and some feel there would be benefits. It was apparent that
the Ifiupiaq residents of Nome and Kotzebue are more open to the collocation idea than
non-native residents. The Ifiupiaq culture places a high value on hospitality and mutual
aid. There does not appear to be a clear consensus in either Nome or Kotzebue as to
whether the effects of collocation on these cities would be more beneficial or more
adverse. The evidence gleaned from the interviews shows that there would be both. Some
of these contemporary thoughts are highlighted below.
Culture. Many people recognize the cultural similarities that Shishmaref has with both
Nome and Kotzebue, and having a community rich in arts and culture move in would be
good. Some feel that having Shishmaref move in could help bring back the teaching of
Ifiupiaq into the schools. However, others feel this might result in a mix of dialects, and
trying to maintain all dialects could stress the school system. Others feel that although
increased competition for artisans would accompany collocation, and not be good, it
143
could bring in more artistic variety. The addition of Shishmaref dancers is viewed as
positive.
Subsistence. In Nome there are mixed feelings. Some feel that there is already a decline
in the amounts of subsistence foods in the area, and having more competition would not
help. Others feel that there are enough animals for hunting and berries for picking, and
people would help each other out. In Kotzebue the feeling is generally more positive, but
like Nome, is mixed. Some feel that there are enough resources available for all, and even
though salmon are not abundant, sheefish are. Others feel that the competition would
pose problems for Kotzebue.
Health. Some people in Kotzebue see problems about health. They feel that the
collocation could lead to an increase in bootleggers, putting stress on local law
enforcement. Others surmise that the influx of people from a dry community might
overturn the local law that allows Kotzebue to be a damp town. Some people in both
Nome and Kotzebue question if their health services would be able to handle the
increased population. Most agree that expansion of health services would be necessary.
Social Structure. Some people in Kotzebue see potential social problems resulting from
collocation that would be created by the shortage of available land for a new housing
development for Shishmaref. If a new neighborhood were to be built for Shishmaref
people, this would create an ethnic subdivision in a city that is not socially structured
along ethnic lines. Also, providing new houses for Shishmaref could lead to social
tension for those in Kotzebue that do not have adequate housing. In Nome, residents felt
the people of Shishmaref would most likely form their own neighborhood, which would
help to maintain community identity, but might also lead to ethnic tensions similar to
those experienced by members of the King Island community. Furthermore, the
relocation of almost 600 Natives to Nome would cause a sudden demographic shift,
making Natives a significant majority in town. This might threaten the non-Native
minority and exacerbate ethnic tensions.
144
CHAPTER 7: CONCLUSIONS ABOUT THE LIKELY CULTURAL IMPACTS
ON SHISHMAREF FROM COLLOCATION
Based on the synthesis of relevant information gathered from the literature research on
relocations in the circumpolar North, and from the contemporary views of Shishmaref,
Nome, and Kotzebue, conclusions drawn about the likely cultural impacts on Shishmaref
from collocation to either Nome or Kotzebue are presented below.
If Shishmaref collocated to either Nome or Kotzebue, the people of Shishmaref would be
a minority (albeit a sizeable one) in either location. Because they would most likely be
living in a separate neighborhood, social segregation would be a likely outcome of
collocation. However, being spatially, socially, and culturally segregated may cause the
people of Shishmaref to work at retaining their cultural group identity. Therefore,
although it is not expected that the “Shishmaref identity” would disappear within the next
few generations, this would come at a heavy cultural price.
Although the Shishmaref collocation scenario somewhat resembles the historic “King
Island model” of collocation (discussed in Chapter 3), there would be some differences.
Neither Nome nor Kotzebue in present day resembles Nome during the 1960s, when
“anti-Native” sentiments characterized the atmosphere. Also, the King Islanders’
collocation to Nome was more gradual than the collocation of Shishmaref into Nome or
Kotzebue would be. And, Shishmaref has no tradition of spending part of the year in
Nome or vicinity (for subsistence or other purposes), and has fewer social ties to Nome
(or Kotzebue) than the King Islanders had by 1960.
Along with the predominantly adverse impacts associated with Shishmaref’s collocation
to Nome or Kotzebue, some beneficial long-term impacts are possible. These potentially
include better health services, more educational opportunities, and more diverse economic
opportunities. However, the beneficiaries of these opportunities would be future
generations, and not the current residents of Shishmaref. Moreover, these benefits would
come at the price of assimilation into a western life style and an abandonment of the
Shishmaref subsistence life-style that is rich in traditional culture.
145
For the most part, the discussions in previous sections of this document have treated the
Nome and Kotzebue collocation options as essentially equal, there are some important
differences that can be noted. Nome would offer a more familiar territory for most
Shishmaref residents than Kotzebue. However, it would provide more exposure to
alcohol, and its potential abuse, and would provide fewer opportunities for subsistence
activities than Kotzebue. Although Kotzebue is more reminiscent of an Ifupiaq village
than is Nome, it is socially more distant for most Shishmaref residents. Finally, the
housing options in Kotzebue seem less favorable than in Nome.
A premise inherent in this study is that Shishmaref residents would collocate as an intact
community to Nome or Kotzebue. However, given the strong opposition to such a
.@ scenario that has been apparent before and during this study, it is quite possible to conclude that this would not occur. Instead, it is likely that while part of the community
-. would relocate to Nome or Kotzebue, others would relocate to neighboring villages, to
Anchorage, or to other places within and outside of Alaska. This scenario would be akin
to the Naukan pattern, a classical diaspora (split up) community, described in Part 1.
Perhaps a way to ameliorate the potential adverse effects of collocation on Shishmaref
would be to somehow convince the people of Shishmaref that moving to either Nome or
Kotzebue would be their best long-term option for solving their erosion problem.
However, as long as the people of Shishmaref feel that other options are available to them
that would help them preserve their culture, collocation will not be seen as viable.
It is clear from all the evidence collected in this study that a Shishmaref collocation to
Nome or Kotzebue would have predominantly adverse impacts. No evidence of
willingness or enthusiasm for collocation has been found. Instead, it can be concluded
that such a move would be considered a “forced relocation.” Historical case studies show
that this scenario of “forced relocation” would have dramatically negative cultural,
economic, health, and social impacts on the community of Shishmaref.
146
APPENDICES
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A-l
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A-2
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A-11
APPENDIX B - SCRIPT FOR NARRATIVE INTERVIEWS
B-1
SCRIPT FOR NARRATIVE INTERVIEWS
The following script was developed for interviews in Shishmaref. In Nome, Kotzebue, and Anchorage, a slightly revised version was used.
1) Do you personally think that it would be good for Shishmaref to relocate to Nome or Kotzebue?
- If yes, which one would be better, Nome or Kotzebue?
- If no, which one would be worse, Nome or Kotzebue?
(- Would it make a difference whether Shishmaref would be relocated to Nome or Kotzebue or are both equally good or bad?)
2) Regardless of whether you think the community of Shishmaref should relocate to Nome/Kotzebue or not, what would you think would be the “cultural” consequences of such a move?
- Do you think that the people of Shishmaref would use their native language more or less in Nome or Kotzebue?
- What effects would such a move have on cultural activities (e.g., Ifiupiaq singing and dancing, ivory carving, etc.)?
- What effects would such a move have on the “community spirit” of Shishmaref? (Would the community disintegrate or would it become stronger?)
3) Regardless of whether you think the community of Shishmaref should relocate to Nome/Kotzebue or not, what would you think would be the “subsistence” consequences of such a move?
- Do you think that you could continue similar subsistence activities as before after moving to Nome or Kotzebue? (Kind and extent of subsistence activities). - Would you be able to pursue subsistence activities (“old” ones or “new” ones) in the vicinity of Nome or Kotzebue?
- Would you attempt to go back to the Shishmaref area for seasonal subsistence activities?
4) Regardless of whether you think the community of Shishmaref should relocate to Nome/Kotzebue or not, what would you think would be the “health” consequences of such a move?
B-2
- Do you think that such a move would lead to changes in your diet? - Do you think that such a move would lead to changes in available health services?
- Do you think that such a move would make any difference regarding alcohol,
alcoholism, and illegal drug abuse?
5) Regardless of whether you think the community of Shishmaref should relocate to Nome/Kotzebue or not, what would you think would be the “social” consequences of
such a move? ;
- How would such a move affect your family networks and the way elders are taken care of? [would children need more supervision?]
- Do you think that the Shishmaref people would “fit in” in Nome or Kotzebue?
- Do you think that the people of Nome or Kotzebue would welcome the arrival of the
Shishmaref community?
6) Are there any other consequences you foresee (which we have not yet talked about)?
7) Is there anything else you would want to add regarding a move of Shishmaref to Nome
or Kotzebue?
Thank you very much for your time!
B-3
APPENDIX C - LIST OF INDIVIDUALS INTERVIEWED AT
SHISHMAREF, NOME, KOTZEBUE, AND ANCHORAGE
C-1
LIST OF INDIVIDUALS INTERVIEWED AT SHISHMAREF,
NOME, KOTZEBUE, AND ANCHORAGE
SHISHMAREF
Linda Beyer
Joe Braach
Beatrice Davis
Fanny Kuzuguk
Frankie Kuzuguk Sr.
Johnson Eningowuk
Kelly Eningowuk
Al Grierson
Molly Grierson
Stella Havatone
Mary Huntington
Ruby Jones
Kate Kokeok
Nancy Kokeok
Nora Kuzuguk
Morris Kiyutelluk
Herbert Nayokpuk
Percy Nayokpuk
Christopher Ningeulook
- Melissa Ningeulook
- Annie Obruk
- Albert Olanna
- Daniel Olanna
- Edward Olanna °
- Evelyn Olanna
- Frank Ongtowasruk
- Jimmy Seetomona
- Bessi Sinnok
- John Sinnok
- Davis Sockpick
- Helen Sockpick
- Richard Stasenko
- Stacey Stasenko
- Lisa Stenek
- Stanley Tocktoo
- Clifford Weyiouanna
- Fred Weyiouanna
- Reuben Weyiouanna
- Shirley Weyiouanna
- Tony Weyiouanna, Sr.
Pseudonyms used for interviewees who did not want to be identified by name:
- Joe Brown
- Annie Franklin
- Kristen Hamm
- Tom Conner
- Lucy Miller
- Madolyn Orr
- Octavio Sanchez
- Elizabeth Shank
- Jen Smith
- Bill Thomas
- Eleanor Thomas
- Vince Tricomi
- Laura Wolfe
- Nate Yerg
NOME
- Ken Adkisson
- Matt Ganley
- Josie Hardy-Bahnke
- Stan Lujon
- Guy Martin
- Denise Michels
- Andrew Peterson, III
- Fred Tocktoo
c-4
-. Bruce Tungwenuk
- BJ. Wolter
Pseudonyms used for interviewees who did not want to be identified by name:
- Melanie White
KOTZEBUE
- Guy Adams
- Helen Bolen
- Robert Boyle
- Archie Ferguson
- Willie Goodwin
- Hugh Hollgren
- Linda Joule
- Noah Naylor
- Emest Norton
- Lincoln Saito
- Sandra Shoyer-Beaver
- Edward Ward
- Alex Whiting
Pseudonyms used for interviewees who did not want to be identified by name:
- Eric Grant
- Sarah Lee
- Robert Miller
- Melissa Watkins
KING ISLANDERS (IN NOME AND ANCHORAGE)
- Bernadette Alovanna-Stimpfle
- Francis Alvanna
- Becky Amarok
- Joe Amarok
- Agatha Ford
- Olga Muktoyuk Kingston
- Marilyn Koezuna-Irelan
- Lucy Koyuk
- Cecilia Muktoyuk
- Edward Muktoyuk
- Eddie Muktoyuk Jr.
- Rudy Ojanen
- Vince Pikonganna
Pseudonyms used for people who did not want to be identified by name:
- Jane Darling