Testing for Arctic oil is destroying way of life
Once, they took our children. Today, exploration is taking our survival.
My Aaka, my grandmother, lived in a time before Western culture contact. She was born in 1933 and has lived in sod houses and in Igloos — she lived the nomadic life.
Then when Iñupiaq people were first introduced to Western culture, our children were forcibly taken away from us and put into boarding schools. We couldn’t practice our traditional songs and dances, and we couldn’t practice our cultural traditions, like tattooing, anymore. Our right to hunt whales, something that defines our way of life, was nearly taken from us. We were force-fed religion, we were told our way of life was wrong, and we were told to become “civilized.” My uncle met his wife in a garbage can. That is how boarding schools punished children for speaking our Inupiaq language in school.
Stories like this have caused trauma to my people — I didn’t learn of these things until I was an adult, because we don’t talk about them. It’s still too raw, it still hurts. My aunt doesn’t like the darkness of her skin because she thinks it makes her look “dirty.” Intergenerational trauma is hard to understand, even for those who are experiencing it. Colonialism happened in my grandmother’s generation; this is recent for us.
I am Inupiaq from Alaska’s Arctic Slope villages of Nuiqsut and Utqiagvik (formerly known as Barrow). The Arctic Slope is made up of eight villages in the northern part of Alaska along the Arctic Ocean and spans across land the size of Minnesota. Currently my village of Nuiqsut is
engulfed by oil and gas development to the west, and now the village of Kaktovik, which sits on the Arctic Ocean in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, may be bombarded with development. Although the Biden administration signed a temporary moratorium on lease sales in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, applications for seismic testing remain a threat in the future. We ask oil and gas companies to drop all future seismic activities planned for the coastal plain and to stop pursuing exploration. I’ve seen the results of the oil and gas industry first hand, and I don’t want it to happen to another village in a part of my people’s traditional lands.
I am not pointing my finger at oil and gas companies for past trauma. I am pointing my finger for participating in a modern attack on my people and our way of life. We have suffered enough. I am pointing my finger at you for damaging our land and animals by conducting seismic surveys on our sacred land. This must stop.
Seismic testing is a way to search for oil. Oil and gas companies like Houston-based SAExploration use large trucks, that weigh up to 80,000 pounds, to shake the earth and send vibrations deep into the ground. The waves bounce back and are captured by sensors which give companies an idea of where to drill for oil.
You could still see the trails from seismic equipment from the sky 25 years after testing in 1985. One-hundred twenty-five miles of tundra still had not recovered, and our caribou rely on this tundra for food. The coastal plain where Kaktovik is located has been off limits to these companies for a reason. It’s an extremely sensitive area where the environment allows wildlife to flourish. It is an area where the habitat is particularly suitable for caribou calving. It allows calves to survive and is responsible for the birthing of over 40,000 calves a year. Seismic exploration can also disturb denning polar bears either
by crushing them or forcing them to leave their dens, abandoning young cubs. Although a study by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was cited by the Trump administration as proof that polar bears will not be hurt, the same study leaves substantial room for doubt. This activity has so many unknown consequences.
Much of what we know about long-term seismic damage is from 2-D seismic studies decades ago. I want 3-D seismic methods to actually be studied to know what this really costs our land. Research by a team from the University of Alaska-Fairbanks found that there is considerable evidence that 3-D seismic testing will leave damaged and compressed trails. The industry says there is little permanent impact to the environment, but any impact on sacred ground is off limits to us.
Villages in the Arctic Slope rely heavily on subsistence for survival. Over 50 percent of the diet is from subsistence. This makes sense since a gallon of milk can cost up to $12. Relying solely on
groceries is unsustainable given the economic income of villagers — subsistence is not just needed for survival, it defines our way of life, gives a sense of purpose and pride in our culture. Eating traditional food brings loved ones together. I imagine it’s similar to what I hear people from the
South say about “comfort food,” but so much more than that. Our way of life is continually being eroded. For me, this isn’t about business, it’s about our culture and traditions.
Texas gains the benefits of energy provided by oil and gas, and the state saw the repercussions of unregulated utilities for a week due to Winter Storm Uri. Our people, however, are affected every day . The village of Nuiqsut, with a population of about 400 of mostly Iñupiaq, is already heavily impacted by oil and gas extraction. You can see the oil and gas facilities just by looking out the window in a part of Alaska near the Arctic Ocean that is touted as “pristine” or “untouched.” The blasts that happen every day at 6
p.m. from gravel pit activity affect Nuiqsut. Houses have cracks in their walls from this, and the physical damage doesn’t compare to the mental impact it has on residents.
Many Iñupiaq rely on oil and gas jobs and are afraid to speak out on the topic. It could jeopardize their income, and many others fear speaking out would blacklist them from future job opportunities. I didn’t talk about this when I worked for the industry as a safety technician and adviser — I didn’t want to lose my job. Relatives have warned me not to speak out, they say it will make our family a target. This is hard for me, and I’m scared of the repercussions. While there are residents on both sides of this matter, the majority of us just want answers.
Some of these concerns have gone unanswered for years and years. There are growing concerns about the mold in fish and lowered numbers of caribou in the Nigiliq Channel of the Colville River which already affects subsistence
in the area. We must address these issues before extracting from other, unharmed areas.
“This area is so sacred to us that we never step foot there, even in times of extreme famine,” said Bernadette Demientieff, executive director of the Gwich’in Steering Committee, about the refuge.
My grandparents taught me how to respect the land. It’s so fragile, there are so many little things you have to do to keep the balance. Now oil and gas wants to desecrate it with major exploration activities.
Our people were forcibly colonized, but through generations we are learning your system, we are finding our voices and our power within the Western construct. We see those who are further harming our way of life. We are watching you, and we are telling the world what we see.