(Inupiaq, Tlingit & ANCSA)

How Have Native Land Claims Affected the Inupiaq and Tlingit?

Illustration courtesy of Alaska Native Knowledge Network

Table of Contents

Guide to Acronyms

INTRODUCTION

            As a tool for learning about Alaska Native land claims history and ANCSA (the Alaska Native Land Claims Act), this essay studies two regional Native corporations and two village corporations.  The Arctic Slope is represented by the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC) and the Kuukpik Corporation (in the village of Nuiqsut).  The Southeast Alaska region is represented by Sealaska Regional Corporation and Shee Atika (in the city of Sitka).  Quotes are used heavily in order to represent the subjects as fairly as possible.  In that way, this essay is a compilation of research from several sources.  The larger ANCSA story has been simplified in order to highlight two regions before and after the settlement.  (For a beautifully researched, readable history of ANCSA, see Robert Arnold’s book, Alaska Native Land Claims.)  The purpose here is to trace the history of the Arctic Slope and Southeast’s Native land claims, from traditional days, through the passage of ANCSA, to the present and the future.  A history of each region’s culture will be followed by a comparison and contrast.  Although several aspects of Americanization are the same in both regions, the Arctic Slope culture’s main focus is on the community's relationship with the land, whereas the Southeast Alaska cultures focus more on trade and influence.

I. THE CHARACTER OF EACH REGION’S COMMUNITIES, PAST & PRESENT

            Communities in Southeast Alaska are diverse, but generally have a cosmopolitan, urban quality, both in Native and European/Native history.  The geography of the area—closely spaced, steep islands with dense muskeg/rainforest—shaped traditional Southeast Native culture.  Communities were situated on the marine highway, which, instead of roads, provides easy transportation by the Inside Passage.  Neighboring villages are close by, which made trade, and war, easy and common.  Shortly before Europeans arrived, the area was in shift, with the Haida immigrating to traditional Tlingit and Tsimshian territory in the 1700s, and occupying the southern tip of the panhandle.  After the Russians worked their way through Aleut territory and the Gulf of Alaska, they made their fur-trapping capitol in the Tlingit village of Shee-Atika, or Sitka (the main SE community addressed here).  After the Aleuts, then, the Sitka Tlingit were the first to have a sustained cross-cultural community with Europeans—first, the Russians, then the Americans.  As a colony of Russia and America, Sitka has drawn Natives from all over Alaska for education and health care.  Sitka’s Sheldon Jackson College, Mt. Edgecumbe High School, the BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs) tuberculosis sanitarium and today’s Native beneficiary hospital, Mt. Edgecumbe Hospital, have served a variety of Alaska Native tribes, adding to the urban, cosmopolitan character of Sitka and Southeast.  The hospital is part of the SEARHC (Southeast Alaska Regional Health Consortium), which has the promise of Native hire preference and is center for the Native community.  Also, “Most of the leaders who organized the [politically influential] Alaska Native Brotherhood and the Alaska Native Sisterhood were educated at the Sitka Industrial Training School, later renamed after its founder, Presbyterian missionary Sheldon Jackson.” (EPH, 8).  With Juneau, the state’s political capitol, in the region, and the region’s emphasis on education, Southeast has a heavily urban quality.  Two of Alaska’s four urban village corporations are in Southeast, as “special Native corporations [were] organized in the non-Native cities of Sitka, Kenai, Kodiak, and Juneau (which had been historic Native places)” (ANLC, Ch. 21).  Finally, Southeast Alaska has a cosmopolitan quality because it has more people in a smaller area than other regions.

            Arctic Slope communities, however, are more self-sufficient, rural and remote from other tribes and the Western world.  Like the Southeast Natives who used canoes, the Inupiaq of the Arctic Slope have used waterways and finely crafted baidarkas for transportation and harvesting.  The geography of the region, though, has caused the land to be used at least as much as the water—for harvesting and other aspects of life.  Thick ice and snow, and open expanses of tundra make ice roads the main “highway” in winter, though boats can be used in summer.  Long distances exist between villages, and the caribou-based harvesting relationship requires large areas for subsistence.  This is particularly true in Nuiqsut, where Kuukpik Corporation is located.  Lanston Chinn, Kuukpik Corporation’s general manager explains.  ”The people... require rather large areas of land that cover thousands of acres eh, because if their society is based on hunting and fishing and you have caribou who migrate for hundreds and hundreds of miles, then essentially they need to have access to vast expanses of lands to continue that way of life,” (TNH, 12).  Interaction with Western cultures came comparatively late for the Arctic Slope, and the Natives of the region maintained their Inupiaq cultural unity.  It is definitively the most “rural” area in Alaska, which is synonymous with the most traditionally Native, because it has some medium sized towns, but “high per capita harvest levels and large Alaska Native populations dependent of wild foods,” (Subsistence, 212).  The Slope has not been a major trade route for goods and cultural exchange with outsiders, and its history in trade is recent.  The Russians only reached the region in the mid- to late- 1800s.  Sheldon Jackson’s American primary education system first reached the largest towns of the Arctic Slope during the early 1900s.  Due to the expense and difficulty of the United States providing American education and health care in the Arctic Slope region before and after statehood, a number of Inupiaq were sent to the federal BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs) school and hospital in Sitka in the early to mid 1900s.  Later, a BIA boarding school in Barrow drew students and families from their villages.  Gradually, education has come more under the authority of the local community, but it is still unstable with annual turnover of imported, non-Inupiaq teachers.  As a result of the BIA programs, Inupiaq have lost much of their language and learned English in recent decades.  In the last fifty years, previously enclosed Inupiaq communities were opened to sustained exposure to Western elements by BIA schools, health care, a long legal land claims fight, and the oil industry’s presence on the Slope.  With this, the Inupiaq have begun to acculturate enough to develop mechanisms for thriving in the global economy.  Land claims corporations and the oil industry have been central to the Inupiaq’s financial self-sufficiency, acculturation, and ability to self-govern their region.     

II. SOUTHEAST ALASKA’S EARLY MEETING WITH THE WEST

            Southeast Alaska, and Sitka in particular, interacted powerfully in Russian/ American culture from the beginning, especially in the areas of trade, political influence, and education.  Southeast culture is often described as complex, with its clan system, parties, social protocols and laws of trade and ownership.  The culture has similarities to the complex European-American government infrastructure.  The Southeast Native community includes Haida, Tsimshian, and individuals who have moved into the region, but the focus for this paper is on Sitka and Tlingit culture, which is closely related to the Haida and Tsimshian.  Tlingit traders provided for the Russian Trading Company, and the Natives demanded high prices for much-needed goods, (Russian Dependence).  “For centuries Southeast Alaska's Tlingit have been known as legendary businessmen who would travel hundreds of miles to sack competing trading posts. They point to their tradition in trade as what's helped them adjust to the corporate world…. ‘We traded in commerce up and down the coast for centuries,’ [former Sealaska CEO Bob]Loescher said. ‘And even today we continue to do that. In fact, we're becoming global,’” (Business Acumen).  As described above, this is a warrior culture that feels it has never been conquered, but has fought back and lived a parallel life with Westerners.  This is evident in the Russian –Tlingit War of 1804 and the ensuing wall in the middle of Sitka, through which the two sides would trade.  Also, Angoon and Kake fought so hard against injustices that the U.S. Army bombed them.  The Sitka Tlingit were assimilated and Americanized to an extent by Sheldon Jackson’s education, which they used for advancement in the new society by founding the ANB and ANS (Alaska Native Brotherhood and Alaska Native Sisterhood).  “While the leadership of the ANB and ANS fervently rejected the old ways, they ultimately retained the strongest and most useful aspects of their heritage,” such as honorable public behavior and avoiding having to make restitution,” (EPH, 9).  When the political system excluded them, and “A Native could not vote, stake a mining claim, become a licensed boat captain or engineer, and could not own property” (EPH, 8), educated Sitka Tlingit fought for rights.  Sitka’s William Paul, a Tlingit lawyer, was the first Alaska Native legislator.  He and other members of  the ANB/ANS pushed the Civil Rights Act, which outlawed “separate but equal” practices in Alaska, as well as land claims.  Elizabeth Peratrovich Day, a state holiday, celebrates Peratrovich’s influence in the passage of the Civil Rights Act.  Southeast region Natives had an early tradition of success in trade, education and political influence.

                 Illustration courtesy of Alaska Native Knowledge Network

III. ARCTIC SLOPE’S LATER INTERACTION WITH THE WEST

            The Arctic Slope’s struggle and success came later in history.  In the first half of the 20^th century, the region was still comparatively enclosed, and the Inupiaq language was preserved in the villages.  The Arctic Slope Natives’ major experience with Western colonialism began with boarding schools.  At first, it was optional.  Inupiaq leaders Willie Hensley and Joe Upicksoun explain.
    If you wanted to have a high school education or if your parents insisted on it then you had to leave ‘cause you had to go a thousand miles, or more, to southeast Alaska. Or, in     some cases, all the way to Oregon or Oklahoma - and they were Indian schools....it was a scary time for kids... because in many cases, this was their first time away from home.     And of course also very lonely time too. People would get homesick, (Hensley, LtL, 34).
    …when you are being sent out to high school you’re going to an institution where there is total absence of love. Pa- parental love.  (Upicksoun, LtL, 35)
Consistent with Sheldon Jackson’s assimilationist approach that the Southeast Natives had undergone for years, the Arctic Slope’s new regional schools were English-only.  Leonard Lampe, Mayor of Nuiqsut says that when the Kuukpikmiut people went to school,
    We were kind of forced, it was like a draft back then, so everybody need an education, and so everybody moved back from the Colville River over to Barrow, which was a big         change.  When you go to school you had to learn to speak English, you had to learn to write English. There was no speaking of the native tongue allowed. If you spoke the             native tongue you were physically punished…. It was very hard, ehm, living up in the north back then... So, going back to Barrow and moving to where there’s missionaries,         where there’s churches, where there’s jobs seemed like an easier life, (TNH, 16). 
In addition to accompanying children to school, health care also drew villagers to Barrow.  The Inupiaq people’s political struggle and organizing began with Project Chariot, the AEC’s (Atomic Energy Commision) plan to blast a harbor at Cape Thompson by setting off two atomic bombs.  Native leaders met in Barrow in 1961 to plan their opposition to Project Chariot and the arrest of Inupiaq who had hunted migratory birds “out of season,” according to an international treaty.  Out of this meeting came Inupiat Paitot (the People’s Heritage), which was the first local Native association founded since the ANB four decades earlier.  Inupiat Paitot’s primary focus was on addressing interference with their hunting and gathering way of life, (ANLC, Ch. 14).  As a direct parallel to the ANB and the Sitka Industrial Training School, Inupiat Paitot and the boarding school network proved helpful in fighting for ANCSA land rights.  Morris Thompson explains the network. 
    Because of the distance in communication and because of lack of communication our cultures mistrusted each other...And it was bringing together ... all of those various                 cultures and various people, and having us become friends and observe each other and, and making life long friends, that those alliances were formed in the late 50s and early     60s and then that moved right into the Native Claims Settlement Act movement which started in 1966 with many of the people right out of those boarding schools, (LtL, 39).
With ANCSA negotiations, the region was plunged into a legal battle that the Southeast Natives had been fighting for decades.  Tundra Drums newspaper was begun as a newsletter for Inupiat Paitot and Native Alaskan issues, and became a pivotal information source for all Alaska Natives on the topic of land claims.  Thus, by 1961, the Arctic Slope had become as involved in education and the courts as Southeast Alaska. 

Illustration courtesy of Alaska Native Knowledge Network

IV. LAND CLAIMS AND ANCSA

            The regions had a certain rivalry, however, as key players in land claim negotiations.  Due to their geography and history, Southeast Alaska tended to make more compromises to gain at least get some of what they wanted, and to progress toward a more powerful position.  In a court system that moved extremely slowly, Southeast Alaska Natives took the expedient route and accepted the ruling in the Tlingit & Haida Indians vs. The United States case.  It was a Court of Claims case filed in 1947 and settled in 1968, where William Paul and the ANB provided legal leadership.  The ruling granted the Tlingit and Haida $7.5 million for the land they had lost.  It paid only the value of the land at the time it was taken, and included no compensation for “free swimming” fish that were considered “common property.”  The money from the unfair judgment was put into a fund for future land claims, and this ruling set a precedent for flood of aboriginal land claims, (EPH, 12).  Thus, it set the stage for ANCSA.  When ANCSA passed in 1971, ”Whatever their size, villages in southeastern Alaska could choose only a single township (23,040 acres), a limitation justified in the act by the earlier cash award of the Tlingit-Haida settlement,” (ANLC, Ch. 21)  During the pre-ANCSA negotiations, Southeast joined the AFN (Alaska Federation of Natives), which was the central Native group pushing for the legislation.  The “price of admission to the statewide settlement negotiations was acceptance of a land selection formula that differed from that of other Alaska Native groups, greatly reducing the total acreage Southeast Natives could claim,”  (EPH, 13).  Juneau’s John Borbridge was a key player, not only in the Tlingit and Haida case, but also as AFN Vice President and chief lobbyist.  Bill Van Ness, former counsel to the U.S. Senate Interior Committee, described Borbridge’s skill. 
    I remember one time when it looked like we wouldn’t get the ANCSA legislation, and John spoke without notes for forty minutes, an amazing delivery, better than many                 constitutional lawyers I’ve seen.  He had a lot of impact, especially with the Republicans because he spoke to legalities, to the constitutional issues.  His argument was well         reasoned, there was no banging on the table, (EPH, 16).
His diplomatic skill at compromise can be credited largely for the passage of ANCSA. 

                The Arctic Slope used Southeast expertise to get their land claims going, but hesitated to jump on the ANCSA bandwagon and start compromising anything.  William Paul began representing the North Slope Native Association in 1966 in its claim to the whole Arctic Slope—58 million acres of aboriginal land— “setting in motion the chain of events that led to Stewart Udall’s land freeze,”  (EPH, 13).  When it joined the AFN, the North/Arctic Slope was concerned about being politically outnumbered. 
    Some leaders, such as State Senator Eben Hopson, of Barrow, feared there might be an imbalance of regional representation…[and] that the organization from southeastern         Alaska would become the dominant force, overshadowing the other regions. In a letter to Tundra Times editor Howard Rock, he warned, ‘I can just picture you and a handful of     other Eskimos sitting at a conference table with a full battery of the members of the Alaska Native Brotherhood, and being voted down on every proposal you might have.’              Those who supported the idea of one statewide organization tried to persuade others, but they were unable to overcome a deeply rooted mistrust, which many Natives had of         people outside of their own geographic regions, (ANLC, Ch. 16).
The Arctic Slope dropped out of the AFN in October 1970, fearing domination by southern regions and the ANB.  It opposed the AFN benefit distribution plan, which a majority agreed should be based on population.  Arctic Slope executive director Charles Edwardsen, Jr. described it as "welfare legislation."  He required the distribution based on the land area historically occupied and stated that the current plan “would ‘not provide for a fair exchange between what is being taken from us and what we would receive in exchange.’”  At a December 1970 AFN meeting, a new, compromised proposal was made. 
    The new AFN proposal developed at the meeting kept the concept of 12 regions, initial compensation of $500 million, and the two-percent share in future revenues from public     lands, but raised the land provision to 60 million acres. The proposal also accepted the Arctic Slope argument that the regions with the largest land area should receive the             most land and money, not the regions with the largest population….Money from mineral developments…would be shared among the regions. Arctic Slope, for instance, would     retain half of the revenues it received from mineral development and distribute the remainder to other regions on a population basis, (ANLC, Ch. 19).
The Arctic Slope re-joined the AFN.  Subsequently, the U.S. Congress basically approved this proposal, withdrawing 20 million acres in their version of ANCSA. 
                   The Arctic Slope delegates to the AFN voted against ANCSA, and also asked President Nixon to veto the bill.  Their reasons were outlined in a letter to President Nixon from Joe Upicksoun and Charles Edwardsen, Jr. of the Arctic Slope Native Association. 
    We, the Inupiat Eskimos of the Arctic Slope Region of Alaska, urge you in the strongest possible terms to veto the Alaska Native Claims Bill passed by Congress on December     14, 1971….Congress…has largely ignored the fundamental premise upon which the entire settlement is hinged: Separate and distinct regional ethnic groups of Alaska                 Eskimos, Indians and Aleuts have property rights in their land, and congress is acting to extinguish those rights….There must be a direct relation between what is being taken     from us and what we receive in  exchange….Congress has chosen wrongly to follow a population allocation….we will receive only 5% of the settlement’s monetary proceeds,     even though virtually all of the $500 million in 2% royalty revenues will come from our land….the land which we are allowed to retain will be far from our villages and of little         economic potential….a Native group in southeast Alaska has a claim to a land area (2.6 million acres) that is 4-1/2% of the size of our land area (56.5 million acres) having a         value that is infinitesimal compared to the value of our land. They are receiving 400% of the amount that we are receiving from the proceeds of the settlement (and when                 translated into the differences of the cost of living index, represents 1,200%), which under the terms of the Bill continues forever….Our lands are yielding substantially all of the     $500 million, 2% royalty payment which Congress is giving to the other Natives….Meanwhile, the same favored group mentioned who are receiving the benefits of our land         and who under the Bill receive title to 4 billion board feet of marketable timber, a renewable resource, are not required to share that with either ourselves or the other Natives.         Political expediency has dictated these results. Congress has again perpetuated the basic error that has always existed in its relations with Native Americans by adopting a         philosophy of a frontier society rather than a responsible criterion as is laid down in your message to the Congress in July of 1970…..As applied to us, the Bill sanctifies the         complete violation by the Federal Government and the State of Alaska of the sacred provisions of Section 4 of the Statehood Act. It violates the very legal basis on which                 Congress purports to act on the one hand and completely frustrates the social goals intended to be obtained on the other hand.
For the Inupiat, there was no reason to compromise on their aboriginal land claim.  They were willing to forestall any settlement, hold up the oil industry’s investment in the oil pipeline, continue Udall’s land freeze, and as a result, lower the tax revenues that fueled Alaska’s state budget, in order to get the land and compensation that was due to it.  The first priority for the Inupiaq is the land, which is absolutely essential for continuing their way of life. 

The mostly true stereotypes are that Eskimos are traditionally peaceful and socially harmonious, and Tlingits are war-like.  On this issue, the Arctic Slope dug in their heels for political war to defend their land and sovereignty—partially in defense against the self-interest of the Tlingit ANB.  Few invaders had interfered with their way of life before; why should they give it up without a fight this time? Southeast and the rest of Alaska compromised with the American courts by voting for ANCSA.  They thought this was the best deal they would get from the U.S. legislatures, particularly considering the difficulty of getting this bill to Washington D.C.     

            Regardless of Inupiaq opposition, the final draft of ANCSA reflected the compromise principal of American lawmaking; no group got all that it wanted, but each group got some of what it wanted.
    Under the proposal, apart from an initial $8 million payment to each region, the $500 million and whatever land was obtained in the settlement would be distributed on the             basis of lands lost. Money from mineral developments, however, would be shared among the regions. Arctic Slope, for instance, would retain half of the revenues it received         from mineral development and distribute the remainder to other regions on a population basis.  These two provisions, the "land loss" formula and the revenue-sharing proposal,     were the foundation for a settlement acceptable to Native regions having mineral potential and those without, and those having large populations and those only lightly                 populated. In modified form, these two provisions [were] reflected in the legislation adopted, (ANLC, 19)
Thus, the Arctic Slope had an advantage due to their large region’s oil wealth, but it also had to share with other Natives, a fact that it resented.  Population-dense Southeast would receive money based on population, but would not get any more land than they traditionally occupied.  John Borbridge points out that negotiating these subtle aspects of ANCSA through the legislative process was a measured game of chance and compromise.  For example, “The urban corporation provision [which allowed Sitka and Juneau corporations] was almost lost in the final hours.  Lobbying is always a balance between what is sought and what Congress will grant,” (EPH, 17).  With the passage of ANCSA, all aboriginal land claims were extinguished, purchased for $962.5 million.  Native regional and village/urban corporations were established across Alaska, and, to the Inupiaq’s bitter disappointment, Native corporations gained title to 40 million acres, or 1/9 of Alaska.   

V.  SOUTHEAST CORPORATIONS AFTER ANCSA

            Southeast Alaska corporations, particularly Shee Atika, tend to take a business view of land holdings, resources, & ANCSA corporations.  Consistent with its history, the Tlingit are masters of trade and war.  There has been tension between this and other Tlingit values, however, in ANCSA corporations’ practices.  This was shown in Southeast corporations’ actions immediately following passage of ANCSA.  Village corporations were in the unpleasant position of dickering over parcels.  As described in Shee Atika Corporation’s book, Earning a Place in History, ANCSA Village corporations could select 23,040 acres “for urban corporations…within 50 miles of their communities.  Such a radius brought Admiralty Island within the orbit of both [Juneau’s] Goldbelt and [Sitka’s] Shee Atika.”  Angoon’s “defiant village elders who were alarmed at the thought of a modern timber industry displacing their way of life.”  Shee Atika and Sealaska’s first employee-coordinator, Mike Everson, recalled that, “The opposition began with the idea of almost 70,000 acres of land being selected near Angoon.  Angoon would have opposed the idea regardless of the Sierra Club [and its lawsuit for preservation of the area].  The old-timers saw it as an incursion by urban Natives into ‘bear country,’ their name for the island.”  Daniel Johnson, Sr., president of Angoon’s Kootznoowoo Inc. said at the time,  “We’d like to see our neighbors come in, but we’re not going to [invite them in] just because they are our people…This is a once in a lifetime decision.  This is why we’re not going to commit ourselves in any way until it satisfies our feelings.” (EPH, 24-25)  When Johnson calls Sitka and Juneau “neighbors,” he could just as well call them brothers and sisters in the Southeast clan tradition.  ANCSA exacerbated the Southeast brother against brother battle, in the name of doing business.  Nevertheless, Many Southeast corporations—Sitka, Huna, and Kake—use(d) their forested lands as a commodity with a timber resource to be extracted.  Shee Atika selected Katlian Bay and Cube Cove because of the high value spruce and hemlock timber.  Like with today’s ANWR case, the Sierra Club filed suit to protect Cube Cove on Admiralty Island from logging.  Shee Atika had hired a “cowboy” CEO (1981-87), Roger Snippen, who said, “[Everyone was telling us] you’ll never cut a tree on Admiralty Island.  The helicopter logging [that we did] was to demonstrate that no matter what the Sierra Club did, no matter what our opposition did, we were going to cut timber.  In fact, I told the Sierra Club, ‘If I’ve got to cut every tree out there and let it lay there and rot, I’ll do it just to make a point,”  (EPH, 39)  Shee Atika was in business for real, and chose leadership that had an unsentimental view of its land and resources.
            The question of how all ANCSA corporations should view land holdings is contentious.  Guy Martin, a land claims lawyer who worked for ANCSA, was surprised at what he perceived as a shift in priorities. 
    You know the saying of the settlement…“Take our land, take our life.” There was the argument that there was a clear distinction between the relationship of Alaska Natives to         the land from the relationship of non-Natives to land in Alaska, even those in the trenches, the pioneers. I would not have expected, at the time, that the land would have been     transferred as freely as it has been…sold or traded or otherwise marketed in a way that brought back some other kind of concession to Native corporations, village and                 regional. That, to me, was a little surprising.  (Guy Martin Interview)
John Borbridge advocates for land ownership never to be compromised.
      The value system of the tribes says land is forever. It's not to be sold, it's not be used to make a quick buck, it's not to bail yourself out of a poor corporate decision with respect        to a chancy investment. Land is something you never let go of; it's at the very root of a tribe’s existence. It's imperative that the corporations and tribes understand one another        a little more. We need to have conversations where we ask: what do the directors in the tribe think about the land?….If land was at the root of what we sought in terms of a just        claim, it certainly is at the root in terms of our ability to continue to enjoy the act of justice done by Congress, (John Borbridge Interview).

One recurring theme in Shee Atika’s corporate history is whether or not the corporations are representing shareholders’ wishes.   

            Shee Atika’s business view of land holdings continues in today’s activities, keeping that particular traditional value alive in an urban, westernized society.  Shee Atika is the largest private real estate owner/renter in and around Sitka’s urban area, with 3,000 acres.  Katlian Bay, which is undeveloped Shee Atika land north of town, could still be developed if Sitka’s fourteen miles of road are extended.  Shee Atika owns central properties in town: Totem Square, the old theater property, Alice Island and Charcoal Island (which were land filled together and bridged to Sitka decades ago).  According to Bob Loiselle, current CEO, “The land provides a tie for all generations.  Just having the ownership of the land provides shareholders a certain amount of comfort and a continuity to the past, to their ancestors,” (EPH, 69).  Another high finance achievement of Shee Atika was the sale of Net Operating Losses (NOLs).  Senator Ted Stevens was able to gain an exemption for Native corporations, allowing them to sell such losses, even if they are only paper losses.  Shee Atika’s was the first auditing/legal case to test the exemption, thus assuring that all Alaska Native corporations could use it.  In the face of falling timber prices, Shee Atika would have gone bankrupt were it not for the sale of NOLs.  Instead, for the first time, Shee Atika posted a profit.  Shee Atika’s first investments were in developing and running local businesses, such as the luxurious Shee Atika Lodge, Ocean Beauty Seafoods, and Atikon timber company.  All of these provided Native preference jobs for locals.

            Over its history, Shee Atika has touched on all achieving all the goals that different ANCSA corporations have aimed for: providing shareholder jobs; paying dividends; holding the land title to keep it for subsistence use, raising money for education, etc.  Subsistence use of land generally seems to be not as high of a priority for Shee Atika and other Southeast corporations as in the Arctic Slope and other regions, although it clearly is the top priority to more traditional Natives.  Since store-bought goods are reasonably available through the marine highway transportation routes, Southeast Alaskans harvest fewer subsistence goods per person than in the Arctic Slope (Subsistence, 213).  No mention is made of subsistence in Shee Atika’s history book, Earning a Place in History, and at least some local Native shareholders have said that other shareholders have no right to gather resources on the corporation’s private land.  Corporation land seems to be used for subsistence more in villages, such as Huna’s many logging roads being used for berry picking and hunting.  Klukwan, Inc.’s Long Island has recently been the subject of a subsistence controversy, indicative of the uncertain priorities in village corporations.  Klukwan, Inc. applied for a permit to use herbicide on clear-cut land that others use for subsistence activities.  The Department of Environmental Conservation’s director of public health, Kristin Ryan, said, "If people are on that island picking berries, they should have permission…There should not be anyone on that island doing subsistence in that area, because Klukwan wouldn’t allow them if they were about to spray,” (Chilkat Valley News).  In Sitka, city legislation, such as a law that allows subsistence activities (herring eggs) on private islands, seems to be the only mode of protection.  Native corporations in Southeast have subtle issues to work out with their subsistence gatherers when they put their land to use in business.  Debate and disagreement are common themes in Shee Atika’s story.   

            Shee Atika has had dissidents for as long as it has posted a profit.  In 1988, the first year of profitability, the board opted to go on a retreat in Arizona that included spouses.  That set off a wave of dissidence that led to a recall.  Shareholder Ronald K. Sparks, in a letter to the board chairman, wrote, “I have no qualms with your reluctance to distribute monies.  Personally, I feel it prudent…My objection is that corporate monies were used to pay for travel, entertainment and living expenses of spouses of board members for a trip out of state.”  The corporation later admitted it had made a mistake, and explained that the trip was intended as thanks for the patience, effort, and even financial risks that directors’ families had given in the early years.  Many shareholders still resent Shee Atika’s leadership, however.  As Sitka shareholder Albert Duncan, Sr. says, “…we felt like only those that sat in office were actually benefiting pretty good from it.  That authority wasn't handled right, according to a lot of our people.  They can’t be fooled; they’re pretty smart, “ (Interview).  Shareholder Joan Dangeli shares that view.  “These people live high. They live good - real good.  The poverty and wealth balance in these corporations is just disgusting,"  (Business Acumen).  After the trip to Arizona was publicized, “Directors began receiving hate mail and verbal abuse, they were harassed by late-night phone calls, and some even suffered instances of vandalism to personal property.”  A petition for recall and a new election took place, but all board members kept their board seats, (EPH, 49).  The dissidents were vocal, but not large enough to change the leadership.  Dennis Demmert, a Native Studies professor, points out that the dissident problem in corporations has to do with cultural change.  “Under corporations, majority rule replaced traditional decision-making by consensus, which took into account even the opinions of a few” (Business Acumen).  Like with the previously mentioned question of subsistence rights on corporation property, new divisions arise when Native communities use Democratic systems instead of traditional ways.  A comment by local shareholder, Pauline Duncan, sheds light on this issue.
    When they formed ANCSA, the Native Land Claims corporations, they knew what they were doing…we have all of these corporations and…divisions, and we used to have         only the ANB before….[we have] Tlingit and Haida now, and they have all these different organizations within the village.  And we feel like the government knew what they             were doing when they did that because it, like, pitted all of us against one another, it divided us, and it also took away from our unity of having that one Native organization, the     ANB and ANS.  Everyone belonged to that in the olden days.
Clearly she was talking about the breakup of the ANB/ANS and not the governance of Native corporations, but the principle is that the Native community is experiencing division: the ANB/ANS breaks up into a government bureaucracy; villages fought over parcels of land; regions outvoted each other for the total extinguishment of aboriginal land claims; one shareholder tells another not to pick berries on corporation land.  This representative form of leadership is a new form of division, which makes it difficult to lead with one voice.

            Since the Arizona trip in 1988 and the ensuing dissidence, Shee Atika has used its business success to fuel its two main priorities: education for the next generation, and bigger business.  In this, it is similar to the regional corporation, Sealaska.  Sealaska’s Heritage Institute runs a variety of educational and cultural programs and scholarships, including a bi-annual Celebration, a meeting of Natives in Juneau.  In 1993, the Shee Atika Fund Endowment (SAFE) was started with a deposit of $24 million.  With ongoing deposits, it is now worth $42 million.  This fund provides scholarships and funeral expenses for shareholders who apply.  No application has ever been refused.  As director Loretta Ness says about SAFE, “Our grandparents and parents fought for ANCSA; they were always looking towards the future for their grandchildren.  The settlement gives us that.” (EPH, 62).  Sealaska is at present considering giving automatic shares to shareholder descendants at birth, thereby making these benefits available to any person of Southeast Native origin.  If shareholder descendants are included, all Southeast Natives will be eligible for education benefits and will receive dividends.  Currently, only those born before 1971 received shares, unless they’ve inherited shares.  Those with shares receive modest dividends of a few hundred dollars per year and are eligible for a one-time elder dividend of $2000—a custom designed provision that reflects the Tlingit values and was tested in court.  Such benefits are possible because Shee Atika has had financial success. 

            Shee Atika and Sealaska alike have become world-class investors.  Shee Atika chairman Marta Ryman says that it selects investments conservatively.  “Comparing what we make on investments, it’s pretty hard to justify getting involved [directly] in operating businesses.  We determined that policy early on.  We were not going to operate the hotel; instead we hired someone who could operate it.  With operating businesses, it can take a long time to generate a profit—if you ever do.”  The corporation now refers to itself as an “asset management company.”  CEO Bob Loiselle says that “Our goal is to maximize revenues from existing assets, especially real estate,” (EPH, 68).  Sitka’s tradition of trade, travel and cosmopolitan/urban life continues.  “We absorbed the Spanish, the English, the Russians when they came to our land," [former CEO Bob] Loescher said. "I think we're very adaptable to the corporate culture," (Business Acumen).  ANCSA has also changed Natives by involving “us on the business side of things, and so it has expanded our intellectual horizon. It has been a challenge for leaders to communicate their experiences to people in the villages and also to recognize the people in the villages, who have a lot they can teach the directors and elected officials of the corporations. I think there needs to be more interaction,” (John Borbridge Interview).

            Although ANCSA corporations are a new shape on the Alaska horizon, Byron Mallott explains that they are to provide consistency and are a new way to follow the will of the elders, who are so respected in Southeast cultures.
    Mallott, President & CEO of the First Alaskans Foundation, was in his 20's during the fight for ANCSA. Mallott said that as a young Native fighting for ANCSA in the 1960's he     listened to the elders of the time.  As he explains, they were saying: ‘I didn't get an education. You make sure my children are educated. I didn't fit into the society. You figure         out how my children and your generation can fit into the society and be proud of who you are.  We didn't have the land, even though we knew it was ours. You get it for us, and     you keep it for future generations.  We know who we are as a people, but we're very concerned about our ability to sustain ourselves as a people in the traditional ways. You         make that happen for us.  That's what ANCSA was all about. That's what people were saying. That's what they were meaning.  They didn't say go out and make dividends for     us. They didn't say go out and become corporate CEO's. They didn't say go out and be a big part of the state's economic future and let us stalk the corridors of power. They             didn't say go out and invest in oil wells. They said go out and save who we are.” (CIRI website, Land page)
For better or for worse, that is what Shee Atika and Sealaska are trying to do, using the best of Southeast’s past and present.
 

VI. ARCTIC SLOPE CORPORATIONS AFTER ANCSA

         With the beginning of ANCSA corporations, the Arctic Slope took on a business view for the first time, but tempers that with preserving the environment for subsistence.  The land and subsistence are always first priority in the Arctic Slope, which is evident in their many social and land-based solutions to problems. 

          In 1973, the village of Nuiqsut, meaning "New Horizon" or “A beautiful place over the horizon ” was re-established, laying the groundwork for the Kuukpik Village Corporation.  All the Kuukpikmiut—local Inupiat people—had migrated to Barrow and elsewhere for schooling, leaving the Colville Delta unoccupied.  After ANCSA passed, they won a complex legal battle with the oil companies and the State, selected lands around the Colville Delta, and founded Nuiqsut in 1973.  The Arctic Slope Regional Corporation, which had cash when village corporations did not,
    helped bankroll re-establishment of the previously abandoned village of Nuiqsut during the 1970s. The company gave 27 families $500 to help them move there, and they             camped out for a year and a half before the houses were built.  The village borders the National Petroleum Reserve-Alaska. Although Arctic Slope and Nuiqsut leaders say oil     was not the reason they rebuilt the village, doing so allowed the corporation to select lands that otherwise would have been off-limits to it.“ (The Best Revenge)
Some of the original founders appear in the Danish television production, “The New Horizon.”
    It was the journey of our lifetime...Took us 2 weeks to travel, had one snow-machine... and there were about 11 of us in our family….This is our forefathers that live here before,     and you were anxious to see the new land, what kind of animals and stuff that we have here in this Colville Delta. –Eli Nukapigak
When we reach here there was only one, two, three, four tents I think….I was surprised too when I say wow! People who used to go out camping with us in Barrow, they’re all living here. Still the same, hunt together, work together...Inupiaq way is, you know, they help each other, they hunt together and they share food.  –Mae Masuleak 

    It was a very happy environment, everybody was very happy. There was a lot of laughter in the air, lot of excitement ehm, when we came and parked next to another tent,             besides two tents, I, I asked my folks: “Are we staying here?” And my dad says: “Forever!” –Leonard Lampe, Mayor of Nuiqsut
Moving to Nuiqsut not only re-connected the Kuukpikmiut with their past; it was a social, land-based solution for controlling the Arctic Slope in the future. 

            Living in Nuiqsut laid the groundwork for subsistence preservation and economic development, but relations were difficult in the early days.  “Tensions arose between the industry and the Inupiat people for several reasons. ‘In those early years Arctic Slope Natives feared the industry would hurt the natural environment they depended on for food,’ Arctic Slope's President Jacob Adams said,” (The Best Revenge).  Those fears were realized when “By the 80’s new oil wells were drilled on the Kuparuk River, to the east of the village, closing thousands of acres of hunting grounds to the villagers of Nuiqsut,” (TNH, introduction).  “Also, the oil industry was fighting an attempt by North Slope residents to form a borough that would have the power to tax and zone the Prudhoe Bay oil field. The industry lost that fight, but the struggle had angered people on the Slope, including some Arctic Slope corporation leaders….’It took a while…to let down whatever animosity we had,’ said [Joe] Upicksoun, who was Arctic Slope’s First President” (The Best Revenge).  The Kuukpik and other Native corporations were also excluded for hire and had to fight to get in.  "We weren't part of the good old boys that generally do business with the oil industry," Oliver Leavitt said (The Best Revenge).  By partnering with more experienced contractors, Kuukpik and other corporations worked their way into network.   

            The 1980s were a decade of a new kind of political tension and wise business management  on the Arctic Slope.  In the early 80s, the borough hired two high-powered consultants, Mathisen and Dischner, who used their positions corruptly.  They lined up millions of dollars in borough contracts to go to companies they secretly owned.  They required kickbacks from any other companies that wanted borough contracts, and were found guilty of racketeering, fraud, bribery and accepting kickbacks.  The assembly officers who were associated with them were also pushed out of office.  Fortunately, this was the last major scandal on the Arctic Slope.  For ASRC, the mid-80s crash in oil prices presented an opportunity to build up their assets.  They
    had the capital to use the downturn as an opportunity, buying up some of the assets of those dying companies and hiring some of their talent, which gave it more clout in the         industry.   Adding to the company's prosperity was a law that allowed Native corporations to sell losses - some of which could be paper losses - to companies that wanted to         use them for tax write-offs. Arctic Slope made $91 million” (The Best Revenge)
Another aspect of the business that was being built at this time was land holdings.  ANILCA (Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act) allowed ASRC to exchange some of their land for NPRA (National Petroleum Reserve—Alaska) land in ANWR (Alaska National Wildlife Refuge).  This new acquisition puts them in a more powerful position, business-wise and subsistence-wise.   

            A great benefit for the local, mostly Native community is the development of a hiring preference for city and Native Corporation contracts, respectively.  ASRC and the village corporations such as Kuukpik started out in the 1970s with no corporate organization or expertise, in the middle of a tense rivalry with the oil companies.  As Vice President Oliver Leavitt explains, “It was understandable that they didn't trust us because we didn't have really any experience. We could have done some sort of a job, but maybe not a very good one.”  “The company had to work its way in gradually, starting off by forming partnerships with more experienced firms that could show its people the ropes, said Larry Dinneen, an Arctic Slope executive in the early years.” (The Best Revenge)  Over the years, 

    Arctic Slope has maneuvered into a position where its subsidiaries get a significant share of public works contracts. During the 1998 fiscal year, more than half of the borough's     $160 million in public works contracts went to Arctic Slope subsidiaries or to joint ventures between those subsidiaries and village corporations, according to the                              borough….Jacob Adams, who also sits on the borough assembly, makes no apologies for the local hire policy that favors Arctic Slope and the village corporations. Borough         contracts sometimes provide the only economic activity in villages, and outside contractors will often bring in outside workers.  "The money needs to stay here on the North             Slope," he said….By the early 1990s when the major oil companies had decided to go to an alliance concept - using one major contractor to provide most services on                     particular fields, rather than multiple contractors - an Arctic Slope subsidiary, Alaska Petroleum Contractors, was well positioned. It was a partner on four of the nine North             Slope producing fields, including Kuparuk and the BP portion of Prudhoe, the giants of the Slope….It has become the "800-pound gorilla" of contractors on the North Slope,         Arco spokesman Ronnie Chappell said,” (The Best Revenge)  Due to Arctic Slope’s sparse population and isolation from outside cultures, the borough and corporations are in     a position to negotiate a good quality of life for the people: not only high environmental standards, but also, a rich tax base and high paying jobs.   

            When the Alpine oil field was discovered in 1996, the Inupiaq were major players in the project, providing environmental regulations and manpower.  Like most Kuukpikmiut, corporation general manager Lanston Chinn had one priority. 
    We first told the oil companies that we didn’t even want to discuss money, that we first had to deal with those issues of great priority to the people here and those were issues of     subsistence, protection of the land and the environment, and until those issues were resolved, until those issues were satisfactorily addressed, that it was, it was meaningless     to, to talk about money.” 
When ARCO built the Alpine oilrig in 1997, it complied with State and Borough planning permits and most of the recommendations of Nuiqsut residents.  “Unlike previous new fields on the Slope, there would be no road connection to Alpine, nor would there be any road between the new field and Nuiqsut. Alpine would be [a gravel] island on the tundra, drilling rigs, major buildings, heavy equipment and supplies would be hauled over temporary ice-roads in the winter,” (TNH, 54-59)  Furthermore, Kuukpik Vice President Lanston Chinn explains that
    If the pipeline height was not adjusted to accommodate the migration of the caribou, then the caribou would have to go around a pipeline, large distances…. the local hunters         here, where then they would have to travel miles and miles further themselves in order to get the game that they were traditionally used to being able to get here, locally, within     the Colville Delta...the oil company actually re-designed their pipeline... and established a new system where the pipeline can be as high as 30 feet in the air, but on a average     is now 10 feet...If you have a mechanism through which eh, the oil companies must work with you to resolve this kind of potential conflict... a solution can be found, (TNH,             62).   
Isaac Nukapigak, Kuukpik Corp. President adds that the Subsistence Committee of the corporation oversees environmental protections on the oilrig.  “We have the power to shut down any, any production that may harm the environment which may harm also harm our subsistence resources,” (TNH, 65).  Kuukpik employees like Thomas Napageak, Jr. do the environmental inspections on the Alpine project,
    My responsibilities, for the Alpine project, are to keep up on environmental issues eh, patrol the pad and, and watch for spills and drips... And of course cleaning anything up         that, that may get on the ground hydrocarbon-wise... We’ll go out routinely and do inspections out on the tundra. Especially out on the pipeline areas and, and make sure no         damages occurred around there.”  (TNH, 68)
The Alpine project is a new kind of oilrig, one whose first priority is the people’s relationship with the land. 

            The Arctic Slope Corporation also shows strong business ties to the Alaska region, subsistence, and its shareholders’ everyday lives.  In addition to running Alaska Petroleum Contractors, an alliance of ASRC companies that provide various oil industry functions, it also operates oil refineries in the North Pole and Valdez, and distribution and gas stations as far away as Dutch Harbour, (The Best Revenge).  As such, ASRC is able to provide jobs to its shareholders.  It also supports subsistence activities by paying one of two dividends at whaling time, and provides housing and utilities for shareholders (student interview).  ASRC, like Kuukpik Corporation, is able to provide for shareholders in concrete ways. 

              The Inupiaq people’s tie to their land has caused them to remain remote from mainstream Western society.  As a result, their culture, and language, and power have been preserved longer than many.  The villagers of Nuiqsut continued to “rely more on subsistence hunting for their food than any other community on the North Slope,” and probably more than any community in Alaska, into the 1980s.  Inupiaq “remained the principal language” at that time, (TNH, 39).  Yet, when boarding schools were mandated and many went to Barrow, the loss of language was fast.  Leonard Lampe, Mayor of Nuiqsut, said he “didn’t speak my native language until... I was 19-21 years old I couldn’t speak a conversation with my grandmother, ‘cause all she spoke was the native language, which is Inupiaq,” (TNH, 83).  Bilingual education has become available in recent years with the option of an Inupiaq immersion program until the fourth grade.  Eben Hopson, mayor of the North Slope Borough, summarized the geographical and cultural power held by the Inupiaq.
    It is important to remember the lessons of the past. In addition, we must search and master the new changes if we are to continue to dominate the Arctic. We have demonstrated     we can survive the trespasses which have been perpetuated upon us. We have been successful in establishing our own home rule government. We have been able to achieve     self-government. We must strive to insure that our Borough, our city governments and our school systems reflect our Inupiat ideals. We are Inupiaq, (Inupiaq Education,                 1980s).
He might be pleased to know that the ASRC successfully sought out business in the United States, South America and Russia. 
 

VII. CONCLUSIONS—SIMILARITIES, DIFFERENCES

Southeast Alaska and the Arctic Slope have similar successes & challenges, but they’re distinct because of the traditional culture, history & geography of their regions.  One similarity is the struggle to train highly qualified, educated Native employees for leadership.  Rosemary Ahtuangaruak, a community health practitioner in Nuiqsut, describes it this way. 

The children [say] Why should I stay in school for the rest of the day?  And, well, you should, because you should go out and go and become the construction supervisor…the designer…the one that’s out there welding and fixin’ this pipeline, not carrying the pipe to the person who’s going to be welding it….Otherwise, there’s a white man down in California or Texas or Arizona waiting to come here and take your job! (TNH, 77)

Bernice Kaigelak, a bilingual teacher in Nuiqsut, explains the constant turnover of teachers.

The North Slope schools are almost totally dependent on non-Native teachers, who sign up for a year or two in Alaska before returning to the lower 48 states to pursue their careers…Beginning  of the year is always the hardest when you don’t  know your  teachers. (TNH, 79-80)

Bob Gamble, a computer systems administrator at SEARHC hospital in Sitka, explains the low expectations for Natives. 

The mark of success in our parents’ eyes is getting A job [any job]…going to trade school…and if you can get a job that pays year round, you’ve succeeded in life.  The bar is pretty low for us, and that’s why you don’t see a lot of qualified Natives here at SEARHC, or anywhere else.  We’re also not getting any favors here—a lot of people don’t believe in Native hire that are up there [in leadership].  You need strong leaders up there that will recruit and promote Natives, (Interview).

The education systems in Sitka are also short of Native teachers.  Sitka’s teachers are mostly Caucasian, though the Tribe has representatives on hiring boards, etc.  Mt. Edgecumbe High School has a few more Native teachers, but not an even ratio.  Various programs exist to help Natives become teachers, but it remains a challenge for both regions.  Another common challenge is alcohol use, which has been addressed by many village governments.  ”Many villages like Nuiqsut, have held public referenda resulting in the total ban of alcohol within the community,” (TNH, 91).  The North Slope has many dry villages as well as damp villages, where alcohol can be possessed but not sold.  Likewise, Southeast Alaska’s village of Angoon is a dry village.  Local government is also used to ensure subsistence rights in the Arctic Slope and Southeast.  A city of Sitka law was recently passed mainly to protect subsistence herring egg harvesters.  It states that “from time to time,” subsistence activities are allowed on the coastlines of privately owned islands, (Al Duncan Interview).  Similarly, the village government of Nuiqsut required the Alpine oil pipeline to be ten to thirty feet high so the caribou may migrate under it.  This preserved the subsistence hunting of local Natives.  Another similarity between the regions is that (at least to an outsider) both seem to have no hostility left over from the ANCSA negotiations.  The Arctic Slope was frustrated with the bully power of the ANB at the time, but two anonymous Mt. Edgecumbe High School students from Barrow stated that they don’t know of any grudge today.  Also, the Sitka Native community seems to welcome Mt. Edgecumbe students openly, praising their events showed on local TV, asking the Athabaskan Dancers and others to perform at Native ceremonies and events.  Finally, both regions are proud to have never been conquered by the West.  Esteemed North Slope Borough mayor Eben Hopson says that the Alaska Inupiaq have survived invasions the best of all Arctic Circle peoples, “dominating” the Arctic politically, economically and culturally (IE).  Tom Gamble, a tribal councilman from Sitka’s Kiks.adi Clay House, similarly recalls the economic “home rule” that the Kiks.adi have always held.  The Kiks.adi clan in Sitka lived alongside Russians whose fort was surrounded by two guarded, parallel walls.  Tlingit women would go into this area (which was like a dry moat) and trade with the Russians through a window.  Russians could not safely venture into the Tlingit village at night, or vice versa, (Tom Gamble Interview).  Currently, Shee Atika Corporation is the largest real estate owner in Sitka.  The two regions are similar in their strong traditions and in the difficulties of dealing in American culture.

The main differences between the Arctic Slope and Southeast Alaska are

in their corporate dispositions.  In their formative years, the North Slope dealt with enemies from without, whereas Southeast dealt with enemies from within.  Nuiqsut’s Kuukpik Corporation fought the imported oil industry for legal rights and employment, and residents fought to get corrupt imported consultants out of government.  Shee Atika’s board of directors, on the other hand, struggled with a recall attempt by dissident shareholders who thought the board was only serving itself.  Shee Atika also was the first to test the Native Corporations’ right to sell NOLs.  After a threatening tax audit, NOL sale money brought the corporation out of bankruptcy.  For Kuukpik corporation, NOL sales were a bonus because they were already making money.  The two corporations have different dispositions toward investments.  The ASRC and Kuukpik are both major employers of Natives because they run businesses themselves.  Shee Atika and Sealaska are both asset management companies that focus on providing modest dividends and large scholarship and cultural funds.  The shareholders’ priorities differ, probably because of the contrasting priorities in rural and urban communities.  Lastly, the regional corporations differ in their inclusion or exclusion of tribe members born after 1971.  ASRC shareholders voted to include shareholder descendants as shareholders, but Sealaska has not done so; it is just now officially considering the issue.  Thus, the Arctic Slope and Southeast corporations differ in their business styles.  Each one reflects its people’s history and current disposition.   

VIII. PREDICTIONS FOR THE FUTURE

            The Inupiaq way of life will thrive as long as it is passed to the children, and they can adapt to negotiating with outside influences on oil or other business investments.  The Arctic Slope Native corporations’ expertise in the oil business will continue to be in demand on the world market, and they also may diversify their investments.  With the current national political climate, ANWR exploration will probably pass and set a precedent for further development in reserved areas.  The ASRC and village corporations will again win contracts and provide jobs, and political communities will influence the oil development to protect subsistence to an extent.  Subsistence losses will surely come with any development.  ANWR development is still not certain, however.  Like when Shee Atika logged Cube Cove, environmental groups like the Sierra Club—and some members of the Alaskan/Native community—are again fighting damaging resource extraction.  If that doesn't stop development politically, the large oil companies could continue to lose interest in the small profits offered by ANWR oil and gas.  As a result, the current lifestyle could continue.  If ANWR is opened, however, affected communities will be exposed to a more cosmopolitan, money and trade based lifestyle.  The very isolated communities (deeply rural villages without oil), and communities that keep “one foot in each world” (Hopson) will continue varying degrees of their traditional way of life as they have for so long.  In the future, the values that the children internalize will determine the direction of the Inupiaq people.  In the face of American culture’s encroachment on the Inupiaq, some ways that they may keep a foot in each world include: harmonizing Inupiaq culture with schooling; handing down a mechanism for developing strong, adaptable, Inupiaq leaders; growing global Inupiaq corporations; and using democracy to represent Inupiaq ways.  In these ways, the Inupiaq and American ways may continue together.  Subsistence-wise, as long as whales, fish and game can be harvested, a self-sufficient lifestyle is possible for Natives on the Arctic Slope.

            Southeast corporations in the future will continue on the fast track of trade and political influence, but preserving subsistence lands may be contentious.  Subsistence conflicts such as Klukwan’s herbicide/berry picking conflict may increase, and local subsistence laws will provide some democratic solutions, such as Sitka’s subsistence right of way on private islands.  The urban corporations will continue toward Americanized stock market success while providing scholarships, cultural resources, & at least modest dividends.  Sealaska Regional Corporation is currently considering including shareholder descendants, which most shareholders seem to support, and which will probably pass.  Tourism, development & urbanization of Southeast will gain momentum as it continues.  Huna recently renovated its old cannery as an education center for one tour ship per day, extravagant vacation homes are being built even in villages, and Sitka's city assembly recently called a moratorium on short-term rentals in residential areas due to a housing shortage.  As with Goldbelt Village Corporation's corner on the tourism market in Juneau, Shee Atika will profit greatly from real estate rentals in Sitka's tight market.  Villages such as Angoon will probably use their lands in traditional ways into the future, preserving the language and subsistence.  Kake, Huna and others may struggle when their timber is exhausted, and may be helped along by other corporations.  To the chagrin of many locals, especially those who cherish their tribal way of life, tourism may be the next opportunity for local industry and jobs.  Like the Arctic Slope, if the village corporations adaptively create successful businesses, diversify their investments, and only rarely, carefully develop their land, the corporations will survive.  Future generations also have the same educational and leadership needs as the Arctic Slope corporations—for traditional and American cultures to harmonize somehow.  These are some of the cultural, political and money issues of the Southeast Alaska ANCSA corporations.  

            The other Native rights that are not laid out in ANCSA are harder to predict, such as tribal sovereignty and the preservation of subsistence resources.  The following predictions are based on recent news headlines, political and environmental trends.  Pollution affects natural cycles, and if it is not addressed, may harm subsistence.  In the future, toxin levels such as mercury in salmon, clams, etc. will surely increase in Alaska, affecting all fishing.  To preserve their ways of life, commercial and subsistence fishers will need to push for stricter regulations at the state, national and global levels.  Many Native communities may use political policies and corporations to preserve subsistence capabilities.  In the long-range global perspective, however, global warming will change ecosystems in subtle ways that we can’t foresee.  Large mammal food sources and migration could shift as a result.  Subsistence plants that have buds in the spring will not always be reliable due to late freezes caused by climate changes.  (This is based on Tlingit elder, Frank Wright, Sr.’s comments about the frozen salmonberry buds that never produced berries in 2003.  He said, “I never seen nothing like that before,” and that he had never heard of a year without salmonberries.  He was respected as very knowledgeable about local subsistence harvesting, (Discussion).)

Frank & Anita Wright

With global warming, as long as the whales, fish and caribou continue to return, and their meat is free of major toxins, the Arctic Circle will remain a subsistence stronghold.  As for subsistence law, hotly debated Alaska state law will probably remain with a rural preference, but the federal government could yet shift to bring a Native preference based on the extinguishments of land claims.  On issues of tribal sovereignty, possible loss of developed land, and what happens if corporations go bankrupt, legislation similar to ANILCA will be the solution.  Groups such as the ANB, ASNA and AFN will again need to push for satisfaction of their unique needs.  Eben Hopson’s comments ring true for the continuation of all Alaska Native ways of life: that tradition will be preserved along with success in the American system if tribe members have one foot in their traditional world, and one foot in the state, national and global world.

IX. WORKS CITED/BIBLIOGRAPHY