Before we discuss Huntington, however, we will return to Thornton for a bit, working through a bit more of his argument than we were able to last night. In particular, we will use this classic William Paul speech to return to the questions many of you posed here on the blog last week. If you weren't in class to get the handout, here's a link to the text of the short speech. http://www.alaskool.org/projects/ancsa/testimony/afn_paul/we_own_the_land.htm
Finally, don't forget to work on your annotated bibliography for next week. Looking forward to seeing where you are going with your papers. As always, feel free to contact me with questions, concerns, or laments.
Until Wednesday...
Kevin
Wait…so what is wilderness?
ReplyDeleteThis is the question that just seems to never let go. The few paragraphs that are summarized by Huntington, written by a National Park group, in the Reflection chapter state it better than I can imagine, but I still want to dwell on them for a minute. The statement I am the most excited about is, “Much of Alaska’s apparently untrodden forest and tundra land is thoroughly known by people whose entire lives and cultural ancestry is intimately associated with it (212). “ More specifically I want to spend my time on the “thoroughly known.”
We have touched on Traditional Ecological Knowledge, we have discussed the importance of place but I was unable to connect the most obvious and literal concept of knowing a location. There were several instances throughout the book in which Sidney, while chasing dogs or trying to get a marten to “tree,” became thoroughly lost. While irrelevant to my point but still necessary, he just passes out in the woods on the ground in well below zero temperatures. At daylight he would wake up and immediately know where he was, scoff at himself, and be on his way home.
The traplines that Sidney was running throughout these periods are quintessential wilderness areas relative to the definition, yet he possessed knowledge of these locations that was more engrained than the 8th floor of the state office building to a lifetime state worker, which I dare to argue, is not a wilderness area. (It’s funny that Traditional Ecological Knowledge literally explains this concept in three words and I was unable to make the connection). Regardless, this concept is expanded on with the important statement, “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.” This comes into our discussion of the dangers inherent in the definition of wilderness. By operating under the dualism of wilderness and not, or just the presence of wilderness in general, we perpetuate our concept of wilderness being the place where man cannot remain, whereas in Shadows of the Koyukok, man clearly was capable of remaining in “wilderness.”
Will the discussion on wilderness ever end?
DeleteIt sort of comes from this question, but honestly as we continue to explore and read into the many sides and opinions on wilderness and the literature associated with it I still am no closer to explaining wilderness to another person then I was at the start. In fact I may have a harder time explaining it because now I know that wilderness is more than just isolated land untrammeled by humans, but now I can't honestly tell someone about wilderness without pondering for a half hour about it. So in this regard, will we ever get to a point where we get a "as close as it gets" definition of Wilderness? Or will we continue throughout the class still scratching our heads when we add gender, religion, history and other factors into what makes wilderness and still having to mull over whether these factors do play a significant portion of the definition and description of Wilderness.
How has our idea of wilderness affected our education?
ReplyDeleteOn page 210, Sidney Huntington says, “today, to survive and prosper in rural Alaska, young people need both a bush education and a white man’s education.” This made me wonder how relevant this is today. In our increasingly modern society, we definitely concentrate on providing what Huntington would call a white man’s education. Outdoor skills aren’t deemed as important, particularly in the lower 48 (of course, it’s different in Alaska). For this reason, it seems that there are a lot of modern adults who lack outdoor skills like how to build a fire, how to make a snare, what plants are edible, etc. Of course there are programs that parents can put their kids in so that they learn these kinds of outdoor skills, like the boy scouts (and maybe the girl scouts? I hope they teach you more outdoors skills now than when they did when I was in the girl scouts), but it’s certainly not as integrated into their lives as it was in for someone living a lifestyle like Huntington. As most don’t know very much about the wilderness, they are less likely to venture out into the wilderness. To me, it seems like this would further solidify wilderness as being this magical and untouchable thing. If you don’t go out and experience it and you don’t see it every day, it seems like it would seem more magical. In some of our readings, it’s talked about that wilderness organizations often started in cities, so I think that it’s generally true that city life perpetuates the wilderness idea. Whether or not this is a worthwhile idea to hang out, I don’t know. I mean, Huntington as a child certainly didn’t seem to have this magical idea of wilderness when his mother died and he had to take care of his two younger siblings. But he did obviously did have a bush education and knew how to use his surroundings well, especially for his age. How do our surroundings affect our education? Definitely living in Alaska most of us seem to have gotten what Huntington might consider a bush education (learning how to fish, hunt, make fires, etc.) while still going to school and getting a white man’s education. But, often when we change surroundings and go to a city, we don’t know how to behave their as well (no walking alone at night, etc) because we never got a city education. Do we need a bush education and a “white man’s education”, like Sidney claims? What does the Frontier idea of civilization have to do with it? This is a big question and I’m not sure if I actually went somewhere worthwhile with it, but I think it’s worth thinking about. It’s called a fast write for a reason, surely!
Does the story of Sidney Huntington „perpetuate life off the land“? How does his story tie or not with the wilderness idea?
ReplyDeleteTo me, Sidney Huntington’s lifestory (I am only halfway through the book by now) seems to fit perfectly into the frame of perpetuating life off the land: First his mother and later his father take him with them when going trapping – at the age of sixteen he and his brother have the necessary skills to be self-sufficient. I specially appreciated the part where he mentions the Depression of the 30’s and says that they were lucky to have everything they needed. He seems to live with his environment, in line with it. And this environment is wild one, conditions are rough.
Nevertheless, his story is not a „wilderness“ story in its narrow sense: He was born there and is its „inhabitant“ and not a visitor – he remains.
I thought that his story is especially interesting because Sidney Huntington is part of what they called a „breed“ – his father being an example of the immigrants that perpetuated life off the land – mixing new, imported goods (ex. beans) with old traditions (ex. traps).
The more I think about this story, the more I believe that the concept of wilderness cannot be reduced to the Wilderness Act of 1964 – this idea is long out-of-date and it is way more complex. Trammeled land can very well be wilderness – it only depends on how big these „footprints“ are – a matter of „dosage“. Asking the simple question of wether it is possible to perpetuate life off the land might be a better way of managing wild places rather than introducing clauses that allow massive resource extraction whenever a powerful person decides to do so.
Are our views on Alaskan Natives relationship with the land and it’s inhabitants skewed?
ReplyDeleteI started to ask this question during the chapter about wolves. I, like I’m sure most of us have always regarded Alaskan Natives to be respectful and considerate people of nature and before I offend anybody, I still think compared to most other people, they are. However, during the chapter about wolves, Huntington talked briefly about a friends son and his brother, Jimmy aerial hunting. Now, I understand that moose are an extremely important animal to the Koyukon and they realized that the moose population was declining rapidly at the hand of wolves. So they decided to change the balance. But, I also know that aerial hunting is anything but respectful and considerate, rather pretty gruesome. What I would like to know to maybe understand this situation a little bit better is what they did with the dead wolves after killing them as Huntington didn’t discuss that at all.
Shadows on the Koyukuk: Blog
ReplyDeleteSydney's account of his long and exciting life in interior Alaska has certainly been one of the best reads so far. The oral tradition of the Koyukuk people comes through strongly in this engaging, yet matter of fact voice. What's the lesson to be learned in this book? Sydney represents many things, but what I found most interesting was the strong engagement with Athapascan (sp?) culture despite his deep bond and identification with his white father. The father is a hard working, honest man who spends the majority of his life living in Alaska. Sydney mentions that his main drive throughout his father's life was gold. The stories he tells, however, paint a picture of a man that fit in seamlessly with the Native culture. Being the next generation, Sydney is perfectly adapted to the shifting times. He never regards the western tools he uses as he grows up as alien. The boarding house where he spent his early years is not depicted as wiping out his background. He identifies strongly with his uncle Weasleheart, but never seems to come under a crisis of identity. To me, this represents a possibility of a different relationship with the land rather than the usual clash of the nostalgic Indian way versus a "mechanistic" white imperialism.
During the chapter "Moose", Sydney mentions (for the first time) that as he settled in to wait for the inevitable arrival of his prey, he feels as if he is a part of the Wilderness. As if he belongs in the wilderness. He finds himself unable to shoot the huge moose that presents itself to him, but I don't find that to be the most important part of the story. Here, we have Sydney presented as a settled adult. He has done many things and traveled to many places in his life, and has participated in both the culture of the Athapascans and the culture of the Americans settling the area. He has gone on traditional hunts and built up industries with modern tools. And despite all of that, there is no conflict in his thoughts. Peaceably, he still believes that this is his home.
In the same vein, perhaps wilderness is not necessarily a place where "man may visit, but does not remain." Perhaps it is instead a place where man may be a part. Where, even as things change, an abiding respect for the land maintains it in much the same degree that leaving it alone would. It shows us that living on the land does not necessarily despoil it. Instead of being a polluting taint on the land, we should be obliged to make it our home.
The book repeats again and again that there are certain rules in the oral traditions of the Koyukuk. Those who achieve the biggest feats, especially the taking of a great one, are held to a virtual vow of secrecy. Humility takes on a huge role. Even as the old ways slip away, the elders with so much to share are often steadfast in taking their stories to the grave. Maybe this tells us something as well. Times change. People come and go. But the land abides. We are obligated to create our own stories, to live our own lives written on the fabric of the Wilderness. But we must do so with wilderness as an engaging character as well. We must allow others the opportunity to create their own stories by respecting it in our stories, and we can do this by realizing the full weight of our actions. As the people of the Koyukuk revered the enduring spirits with which they engaged, and observed a strict and profound code for taking what they needed from living things, it is up to us to realize that our position in the environment is always tenuous, even more so as we exploit more and more resources for temporary security and comfort. If we don't engage the land, the "wilderness" directly, it is much too easy to irrevocably alter it, and in doing so alienate ourselves from the resources we depend upon.
The Demoski potlatch experience was intriguing to me, especially trying to identify similarities and differences between theirs and Tlingit styles. Of course, even an identification about “Tlingit style potlatches” is almost impossible, as different villages do different things. Yakutat, for instance, due to their close proximity and cultural connection to the Athabascans, do things very different than the rest of SE (no two villages do theirs exactly the same, but this is the most extreme example). Another aspect that I thought was interesting was the presence of “high words” in the potlatch. I’ve heard reference to this in Tlingit language as well, but some speakers say that it’s true while others don’t.
ReplyDeleteI’m trying to find the right wording for this question, to put this more into a direct question in relation to land and place. To what extent is abstraction part of the problem in defining nature and space as wilderness/civilization.
I’m trying to find what sort of approach to the land seems most appropriate, and I think a lot of that will come down to such philosophical issues of time, space, experience and ways of knowing… the linguistic and intellectual structures that we use to understand the world around us.
In relation to the book, that meant I was often thinking about how they did things that were similar or different than Tlingit. Groupings such as AFN potentially could present this image of Alaska Natives as unified, when in reality there are different approaches to the land. There will be similarities of course, but differences as well. 137-140, where he describes how one should hunt and treat animals, is very similar to Tlingit approaches to these same things. The potlatch, on the other hand, is an example of what is different.
My thoughts a little scattered on this, but I am trying to make it relatable. Last week, we talked about place in terms of what was directly around a person, and even those that are always moving, have a sense of place by simply being somewhere. It is rooted in space and time. I think one of the dangers is expanding this, or perhaps expanding it too rapidly or broadly. The Tlingit way of life, the Tlingit approach to our land, wouldn’t work for Sidney, even if some aspects would. I suppose what I am getting at, is that my thinking tends to be very rooted and geared towards very localized understandings and relationships. The continued expansion of abstraction leads, potentially, to a sense of detachment from nature, and thus eventually into the dichotomy of wilderness/civilization rather than simply home or place.
Couple of things to note:
Mount Saint Elias is showing at Gold Town Nickelodeon tomorrow night. I watched it on Saturday night, and it’s really interesting to see some of the wilderness/civilization themes come up. They kept on talking about how far they were from civilization (which is true on the mountain itself I suppose), but completely ignored that the town of Yakutat is right there. My friend who I went with is from Yakutat, and she didn’t like that much. Nor did they mention anything about the history of a clan that migrated over that mountain, and now claim it as one of their crests. Still, it was a good movie and many of you may enjoy it.
Secondly, if you have planned to catch any of the Clan Conference downtown, I’ll be presenting on Friday morning, 10:30-12 in the Egan room. I’ll be talking about the process my clan went through to get the State of Alaska to recognize that the loaning of our clan hat was not a donation, but rather a route of putting it on display but still maintaining ownership. William Paul was the one who put it in the museum, and so it’s another way of connecting to what you read in his speech, and another way of seeing the vitality of clans today.
From 1:30-3:00, on Friday as well, there is a group of lectures focused on land, culture and ecology. The first is about traditional foods, and their importance in physical, spiritual and cultural health, which is led by my cousin Ken actually. The second is focused on plants as food and medicine, and again, another cousin of mine is leading it (though a distant one). The third is titled Where culture and ecology meet, and the last is Storytelling Water. Anyway, just wanted to share in case anyone was interested.
DeleteWhat does wilderness mean to me?
ReplyDeleteReading this makes me realize that for most of my life I have held myself and my appreciation for wilderness over most of the "wilderness advocates" from inner city New York and other major cities because I grew up in a rural area where my family relied on hunting and local farms for food instead of fancy grocery stores and so on. While reading this I just became more and more conscious of the fact that I may have relied on the land but these people relied on the land to a point of life or death. I can't imagine learning to run trap lines at the age of 4 or having to take care of my siblings after my mother died for weeks in the wilderness at the age of 6 or saving my dad by walking miles all day in the cold all day by myself at the age of 4. This is just unreal. I have a newfound respect for people who can actually live off of the land.
Do people who live off the land have a deeper appreciation of wilderness?
ReplyDeleteSidney Huntinton's accounts of his family's life on the Koyukuk demonstrated a deep knowledge and literal understanding of the wilderness around them, but what of the deeper psychological (?) understanding of the land? As an individual who grew up in Alaska I feel like I have an appreciation for my surroundings but I couldn't help but feel that my emotional connection to the land was greatly lacking in comparison to Huntington's. I am very interested in the concept of the human relationship to nature in terms of forming emotional bonds. Huntington's family relied on the land for survival. As a member of the Alaska Board of Fish and Game Huntington brought his experiences and love of the land with him. It is obvious that he had great appreciation for wilderness. I too love the natural world that surrounds me here and have a great emotional connection to the wilderness in my home town. But I've never depended on natural resources alone to live. Is my connection any less?
Do people who live in very remote harsh environments consider where they live to be wilderness?
ReplyDeleteIn reading this book the places that Sydney traveled through, worked and lived seemed to be the definition of wilderness that I often think of. However it seemed that Sydney seemed more uncomfortable with the unknowns of city life and technology such as airplanes. When working his military job in anchorage Sydney got so home sick that he had to be relocated. I think that Sydney found anchorage to be a true wilderness to him more so than a more remote area would have seemed. I also found it interesting at how much happier Sydney seemed when he was living closer to nature than in the cities. It reminded me of the mental health argument that have been made for the preservation of wilderness. Sydney missed seeing trees and having fresh air when he was in the cities.