Barrow, AK and Indigenous Lifeways

I've been thinking about my time on the North Slope, AK since reading Michael D. McNally's Defend the Sacred. 

McNally does a good job of expressing the way that religion is diffused into a sacred way of life that is multifacted. Religion is not just a discrete part of life, an activity (although many Inupiaq people in Barrow did go to church) but a comprehensive way of life in relationship to the ecosystem--the land, animals, and seasons. I was privileged to see some of that sacred way of life firsthand--although perhaps at the time I didn't understand exactly what I was witnessing. I remember families leaving town during the summer for weeks at a time, from my perspective, they would disappear into the tundra to fish and hunt and gather-- going away to their summer cabins, somewhere in the tundra. They were perfectly at home, navigating through what seemed to me to be trackless tundra but to them was a landscape well and thoroughly known. 

In addition to their familiarity with camping, fishing, hunting sites, there may have been other sacred or holy places out there in the landscape--sacralized by stories and historical events that I did not know about. The one special or sacred spot that I knew about was a section of land called the Ukkuqsi archaeological site on the coast just on the edge of town in Barrow, AK where there had been a very old Inupiaq settlement. It is protected--the cliff there is slowly eroding into the sea and archaeological artifacts are occasionally exposed, so no one was supposed to go there or disturb that area. The story I was told about the place was that an ancient body of a shaman had been discovered there mummified by the tundra. A team of scientists were preparing to excavate the body and take it to a museum. But the night before they were to remove the body, a storm came in and washed the body out to sea. The deceased shaman, it seems, was still powerful enough to call up the storm in order to escape the clutches of the scientists--the sea claiming the shaman's remains before the scientists could get to them.

The Whale Hunt

Gordon Brower and whaling crew

The story of subsistence whaling on the North Slope of Alaska is a long story that includes traditional culture and knowledge, as well as fighting for cultural survival. Inupiaq people and their cultural predecessors known as the Thule culture have been hunting whales for thousands of years. There is evidence of bowhead hunting by the Saqqaq culture in Greenland four thousand years ago. The Nature article describes harpoon points for hunting warlus in Alaska found from 1000 BCE and states that "Systematic whaling with large umiak boat crews became a central economic feature of the Thule culture that migrated into the Eastern Arctic and Greenland around 1200–1400 AD." This would be similar to the whaling methods that continue to be used by Inupaiq whaling crews on the North Slope of AK. 

In the modern period, commercial whaling dramatically reduced the whale population. According to the website Cultural Survival: 

In 1977, the International Whaling Commission (IWC) banned the harvest of bowhead whales by Alaska Eskimos because of a report erroneously estimating the Bering Sea stock of bowheads to between 600 and 2,000 whales. The Eskimo hunters were notified of the ban in June 1977, which was the first they had heard of the IWC's concern. The whalers responded quickly and established the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) to fight the ban, organize the whaling communities, and manage the hunt themselves. At a special meeting of the IWC in December 1977, the ban was replaced with a quota for 1978 of 18 whales struck or 12 landed, whichever was reached first (this quota was later raised to 20 struck and 14 landed). This compromise followed much work by the hunters who lobbied the U.S. government to recognize their right to whale.

While I was on the North Slope, I participated marginally in one full whaling season. During the spring whaling season, the whales are hunted from camps out on the sea ice. The whaling crews live out on the sea ice where a lead--a break in the ice--opens up. Once a whale is taken, the body is pulled up onto the ice.  It takes a large number of people to pull the whale up with ropes and block and tackle, and then many to help with the flensing of the whale. The work goes on for many hours and is an example of interdependency that remains a core value in the Inupiaq culture.

In Defending the Sacred, McNally writes about the Makah whale hunt, revived briefly in 1999, (241-246). And so much of what he writes is spot on with what I observed in Barrow, AK. He mentions how the whale was harpooned "with a force aided by ancestral strength" - a theme I know is part of Inupiaq whaling culture as well, felt also in this traditional whaling dance performed by the Barrow Dancers in 2011.  A ceremonial welcoming was held for the whale as it was brought to shore. A feast for the whole community was held and "meat, blubber, and oil were distributed to reservation families who tasted, many for the first time, their Makah soul food" and how the harvesting and sharing of traditional cultural foods unites, heals, and transforms the community.   

In this video by the New York Times "A Sacred Whale Hunt Continues," Edward Itta describes whaling as a sacred activity. You can sense the register of the sacred in the "togetherness" described by whaling captain who says, "It knits the community. You know we help each other. If we get a whale, the whole community eats." The whale is precisely butchered or flensed and the meat and other parts distributed. The baleen is shared with artists and traditional craftspeople. There is a specific section of the meat called the Tavsi or belt from the rear of the whale that is reserved, prepared, and served to the community. In Barrow, when a whaling crew takes a whale, this portion of the meat is prepared that day by the captain's household. The whaling crew's flag is raised about the house and all the Native people line up with baggies to get their portion of the prepared meat. 

Another section of the whale, called the Itigruk from the tail section is prepared and served at the spring whaling festival called Nalukataq. This festival, which I attended in 1994, happens in June and is associated with the summer solstice. The entire community turns out, sitting on the ground, and is served a variety of foods including soup and different types of whale meat like maktak (blubber generally boiled) and fermented meat that is dark and slimy in consistency. There is traditional dancing as well as the famous blanket toss. I was literally right there helping to pull the blanket but was too nervous to actually get tossed.

Great article that describes much of this "Inupiaq Traditions: The Gift of the Whale" and here is another from Alaska Magazine, "Inupiaq Whaling: Life, Identity, and Survival."

A note on aesthetics: The fall hunting season, there is no sea ice. Hunting is done from motorized boats and the whale is pulled up onto the beach. It looks something like this. I had pictures that I took of fall whaling when I was living there, but who knows where they are now. When people see these images, they often have a negative response - it often looks just like a bloody mess to them. For people unused to butchering an animal and unfamiliar with this process in Inupiaq culture, that visceral response masks what is actually a ancient and familiar practice that requires much cultural expertise. It is a spiritual and cultural high point of the year for Inupiaq people and represents hundreds perhaps a thousand years of cultural continuity. A visceral response of revulsion causes us to misinterpret the significance of the moment. I wrote about this at the beginning of chapter 6 in Being Viking. 

Lefebvre's Spatial Triad

In Kim Knott's The Location of Religion: A Spatial Analysis, she introduces Lefebvre's spatial triad. This was new to me and I am thinking through it.

Lefebvre introduces three interrelated conceptualizations of space:

Representations of Space - I understand this as the official and technical plan of space, top down - it is abstract, planned - "conceived space" - the building as it is designed by the architect, for instance

Spaces of Representation - how people (and perhaps other-than-human people) actually live in space - "lived space" - as one article put it "The lived space concerns how human beings use the space and, most importantly, retrofit and mold the space for their own use." 

Spatial Practice - this is still confusing  - It seems to be the everyday ways that people use, perceive, and navigate space  - ordinary everyday practices "from minute, repeated gestures to the rehearsed journeys from home to work and to play" (39). These are the patterns and "paths" that emerge from everyday use. They "encounter and have at times to acknowledge the conceived order, but they form their own stories that are inaccessible to planners and scientists." And they connect to the lived order.

Trying to think about the spatial triad in relation to Barrow, AK:

Representations of Space - this was a city planned and built by white Americans and incorporated in 1958 to settle nomadic Inupiaq people. In this sense it is a city space as conceived and imposed by non-Inupiaq. It has the official pattern of what a city or town is supposed to be, based on American and European precedents. A city must have a post office, a city hall, a school, a hospital, roads laid out in blocks, single-family dwellings. It is small town USA - set down 327 miles above the Arctic circle. Knott writes "Always embedded in such representations are ideology, knowledge, and power" (36), 

Lived Space - Spaces of Representation - All of this is then imposed on 1) the Artic Tundra and 2) on Inupiaq people and culture. So the place "distorts" or changes the idealistic model of small town USA, forcing it, bending it into new directions based on the realities of the place and the culture. So "main street" becomes an ice road in the winter that melts into muddy ruts during the summer. The houses (which are American Lower 48 style houses that are heated, and would warm the tundra beneath them) have to be built on pilings - again because these are houses that are not conceived in relation to the space, its environment and ecology. The Inupiaq also built homes - but these were very different from the homes of the lower 48, the "average American home," because they were built in relationship to the environment. Then there are the meat drying racks outside each home, which is an adaptation by Inupiaq culture trying to live, it fits its lifeways in these spaces. There are the summer camps out on the tundra to which families travel and stay living off the land, hunting, fishing, gathering berries, pushing out against the residential model, deconstructing and subverting the idea of a home in town and the suburban American ideal.

Kim Knott writes that "Such lived spaces, imbued with distinctively local knowledge, often run counter to spaces generated by formal, technical knowledge" (37). These lived spaces can "disrupt the dominant order, through their association with the clandestine and underground side of social life."

Spatial Practice - this seems to be how someone actually perceives a space that they look at or encounter. This perception is mediated by the person's cultural perspective? So one person - say a white person from the outside, or someone who drives a car - looks at Barrows and sees the "offical" planned roads and perceives these as the way to move around the city.  And I did too -- until I got a snow machine or a skidoo. After I began to ride the skidoo around town during the winter, I perceived for the first time a myriad of skidoo trails that twisted around and through the town - through "yards" and around homes and buildings (and therefore subverting the idea of planned roads, space conceived of as private property and homes with "lots." The trails created a new map of shaped by a different perspective on space and the technology of the snow mobile. The trails threaded their way through back spaces, secret spaces that I had never seen before. These trails were used primarily by Inupiaq people. This was a completely different way of perceiving the space and navigating through the space - it paid no attention whatsoever to the "roads" but built a system of trails that mapped out a different world of Inupiaq places and relationships.