North by 2020: Perspectives on Alaska's Changing Social-Ecological Systems

orth by 2020

orth by 2020

Perspectives on Alaska’s Changing Social-Ecological Systems

Edited by

Amy Lauren Lovecraft and Hajo Eicken

© Copyright 2011 University of Alaska Press. All rights reserved P.O. Box 756240 Fairbanks, AK 99775-6240

ISBN 978-1-60223-142-9 (paperback) 978-1-60223-143-6 (electronic) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data North by 2020 : perspectives on Alaska’s changing social-ecological systems / edited by Amy Lauren Lovecraft and Hajo Eicken. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 978-1-60223-142-9 (pbk. : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-1-60223-143-6 (electronic book) 1. International Polar Year, 2007-2008—Congresses. 2. Polar regions—Research—Congresses. 3. Research—Polar regions—Congresses. 4. Arctic regions—Research—Congresses. 5. Antarctica—Research—Congresses. 6. Polar regions—Environmental conditions— Congresses. 7. Climatic changes—Detection—Polar regions—Congresses. I. Lovecraft, Amy Lauren. II. Eicken, Hajo. G587.N65 2011 304.209798—dc22 2011005676 Cover and text design by Paula Elmes, ImageCraft Publications & Design Cover art: Ooyahtoanah, ©1996 by Ken Lisbourne This publication was printed on acid-free paper that meets the minimum requirements for ANSI / NISO Z39.48–1992 (R2002) (Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials). Printed in Korea

Contents Foreword xi Preface xv

1 A Holistic Approach for a Changing North

Section Editors: Amy Lauren Lovecraft and Hajo Eicken

2

1

1.1 Introduction—Amy Lauren Lovecraft

3

1.2 Transdisciplinary Collaboration in the Fourth International Polar Year: Connecting Studies of Arctic Change across the Sciences and the Arts—Amy Lauren Lovecraft and Hajo Eicken

5

1.3 Scenarios as a Tool to Understand and Respond to Change —John E. Walsh, Marc Mueller-Stoffels, and Peter H. Larsen

19

1.4 Contextualizing Alaska’s Climate Change from Global to Local Scales: The Boreal Forest, People, and Wildfire—F. Stuart Chapin III and Amy Lauren Lovecraft

41

Indigenous Knowledge, Climate Change, and Sustainability Section Editors: Ray Barnhardt and Pia M. Kohler

55

2.1 Introduction—Ray Barnhardt

57

2.2 The Anchorage Declaration—Submitted by Patricia Cochran

69

v

3

2.3 My Place, My Identity—Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley. Editors’ Note by Ray Barnhardt and Pia M. Kohler

75

2.4 A Changing Sense of Place: Climate and Native Well-Being—Steven R. Becker

79

2.5 Values of Nushagak Bay: Past, Present, and Future —Todd Radenbaugh and Sarah Wingert Pederson

95

2.6 Food Systems, Environmental Change, and Community Needs in Rural Alaska—S. Craig Gerlach, Philip A. Loring, Amy Turner, and David E. Atkinson

111

2.7 Indigenous Knowledge and Global Environmental Politics: Biodiversity, POPs, and Climate—Pia M. Kohler

135

2.8 Indigenous Contributions to Sustainability—Ray Barnhardt

151

2.9 Climate Change and Creative Expression—Mary Beth Leigh, Krista Katalenich, Cynthia Hardy, and Pia M. Kohler

163

Alaska’s Freshwater Resources

Section Editors: Amy Tidwell and Dan White

vi

169

3.1 Introduction—Amy Tidwell and Dan White

171

3.2 Alaska Freshwater Policy Development since Statehood —Jedediah Smith

183

3.3 The State of Water Science—Jonathan Pundsack, Dan White, Jessie Cherry, and Amy Tidwell

195

3.4 The Role of Fresh Water in Alaska’s Communities—Andrew Kliskey and Lilian Alessa

205

3.5 Planning for Change—Amy Tidwell, Dan White, and Andrew Kliskey

209

4 The Arctic Coastal Margin

Section Editors: David E. Atkinson and Peter Schweitzer

217

4.1 Introduction—David E. Atkinson, Peter Schweitzer, and Orson Smith

219

4.2 The Physical Environment of Alaska’s Coasts —David E. Atkinson

229

4.3 Humans in the Coastal Zone of the Circumpolar North —Peter Schweitzer

253

4.4 Case 1: Newtok, the First Village in Alaska to Relocate Due to Climate Change—Robin Bronen

257

4.5 Case 2: Flood Waters, Politics, and Relocating Home: One Story of Shishmaref, Alaska—Elizabeth Marino

261

4.6 Case 3: Finding Ways to Move: The Challenges of Relocation in Kivalina, Northwest Alaska—Patrick Durrer and Enoch Adams Jr.

265

4.7 Case 4: Current Situations and Future Possibilities: Issues of Coastal Erosion in Kaktovik, Alaska—Elizabeth Mikow

269

4.8 Case Studies: Summary, Conclusions, and Prospects —Peter Schweitzer

273

4.9 The Arctic Coastal System: An Interplay of Components Human, Industrial, and Natural—David E. Atkinson, Peter Schweitzer, Orson Smith, and Lisbet Norris

277

vii

5 Management of Living Marine Resources Section Editor: Keith R. Criddle

6

5.1 Introduction—Keith R. Criddle

301

5.2 Marine Fisheries off Alaska—Keith R. Criddle, Diana Evans, and Diana Stram

305

5.3 Climate Change Brings Uncertain Future for Subarctic Marine Ecosystems and Fisheries—Franz J. Mueter, Elizabeth C. Siddon, and George L. Hunt Jr.

329

5.4 Conservation of Marine Mammals in Alaska: The Value of Policy Histories for Understanding Contemporary Change—Chanda Meek

359

5.5 Addressing Rural Livelihood and Community Well-Being in Alaska’s Fisheries—Courtney Carothers

377

5.6 Tracking Changes in Coastal-Community Subsistence to Improve Understanding of Arctic Climate Change —Martin D. Robards, Hajo Eicken, and F. Stuart Chapin III 389

Marine Infrastructure and Transportation Section Editor: Andrew Metzger

viii

299

407

6.1 Introduction—Andrew Metzger

409

6.2 A Historical Perspective on the United States Coast Guard Presence in the Arctic—Lisa Ragone

411

6.3 The Arctic: A Growing Search-and-Rescue Challenge —Rick Button and Amber S. Ward

421

6.4 Traffic Management in the Bering Strait—Maureen Johnson

429

7

6.5 The Effect of Unregulated Ship Emissions on Aerosol and Sulfur Dioxide Concentrations in Southwestern Alaska —Nicole Mölders, Stacy E. Porter, Trang T. Tran, Catherine F. Cahill, Jeremy Mathis, and Gregory B. Newby

435

6.6 Strengthening Institutions for Stakeholder Involvement and Ecosystem-Based Management in the US Arctic Offshore —Sharman Haley, Laura Chartier, Glenn Gray, Chanda Meek, Jim Powell, Andrew A. Rosenberg, and Jonathan Rosenberg

457

6.7 Futures of Arctic Marine Transport 2030: An Explorative Scenario Approach—Marc Mueller-Stoffels and Hajo Eicken

477

Coastal and Offshore Oil and Gas Development: Balancing Interests and Reducing Risks Through Collaboration and Information Exchange Section Editors: Sharman Haley and Hajo Eicken

493

7.1 Introduction—Sharman Haley and Hajo Eicken

495

7.2 Analysis of the Arctic Council Oil and Gas Assessment, Oil and Gas Guidelines, and the Prospective Role of the Arctic Council—Dennis K. Thurston

503

7.3 The Need for International Cooperation in Offshore Oil and Gas—Anatoly Zolotukhin

527

7.4 Technological Frontiers for Offshore Oil and Gas —Walter Spring, Victoria A. Broje, Jeremy R. Dean, Michael L. Eckstein, Elio J. Gonzalez Domingo, Mark C. Hansen, Jerod M. Kendrick, Jochen Marwede, John H. Pelletier, Robert E. Raye, Allan M. Reece, Robert L. Rosenbladt, David G. Taylor, Cody C. Teff, Melanie M. Totten, and John M. Ward. Corresponding Author—Mitchell M. Winkler 537 7.5 The Role of Local and Indigenous Knowledge in Arctic Offshore Oil and Gas Development, Environmental Hazard Mitigation, and Emergency Response—Hajo Eicken, Liesel A. Ritchie, and Ashly Barlau

577

ix

8

7.6 Local Perspectives on the Future of Offshore Oil and Gas in Northern Alaska—Richard Glenn, Edward Itta, and Thomas Napageak Jr. Edited by Matthew Klick 605

Expressions of Climate Change in the Arts Section Editor: Maya Salganek

9

617

8.1 Introduction—Maya Salganek

619

8.2 Global Warming and Art—John Luther Adams

623

8.3 Dry Ice: Artists and the Landscape—Julie Decker

627

8.4 Social Climate Change of Alutiiq Dance Forms —Lena Snow Amason-Berns

637

8.5 Seeing Change: A Filmmaker’s Approach to Climate Change—Maya Salganek

641

8.6 The Syntax of Snow: Musical Ecoacoustics of a Changing Arctic—Matthew Burtner

651

8.7 Climate Change as Telematic Art—Scott Deal

665

8.8 A Long-View Perspective on Collaborative Filmmaking —Leonard Kamerling

673

Planning for Northern Futures

Planning for Northern Futures: Lessons from Social-Ecological Change in the Alaska Region —Hajo Eicken and Amy Lauren Lovecraft

679 681

Acknowledgments 701 Index of Authors and Coauthors

705

Index 711 x

Foreword

J

ust short of experiencing the first International Polar Year, Karl Weyprecht died in 1881 from tuberculosis. After a life-threatening, two-year Austro-Hungarian expedition from 1872 to 1873 to chart the Northeast Passage, Weyprecht returned to Austria and campaigned tirelessly for interested countries to work together to establish stations at the poles where scientific measurements could be standardized and taken simultaneously. His effort paid off; the International Polar Commission was formed in 1879 and the first International Polar Year (IPY) was planned for the two-year period spanning 1882–18831. Eleven countries participated in establishing twelve stations in the Arctic and one in the Antarctic. Now, a century and a quarter after completion of IPY-1, IPY-4 (2007–2008) has come and gone. Was it a success? Absolutely, although it did not measure up to the intense burst of scientific activity that occurred during IPY-3, the International Geophysical Year (IGY; 1957–1958). Conditions leading up to and surrounding IPY-4 were dramatically different. The Cold War had thawed and attention had shifted away from demonstrations of technological prowess and technocratic solutions. Unlike the suite of intriguing ideas earlier facing IGY, including plate tectonics, space exploration, and electronic communications, the paradigm-shifting idea of IPY-4 centered on global climate change and the societal changes that might be required to mitigate and cope with a warming planet. Recognizing the critical role that the Arctic and Antarctic regions play in climate, IPY-4’s sponsors returned to a more limited focus—coordinated research within or about the polar regions, much as Weyprecht originally proposed—but with an additional directive that this IPY specifically include the people of the North and the social sciences as a component of its research agenda.

xi

xiiâ•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

IPY-4 involved sixty-three nations and the total support for coordinated international research has been estimated at $1.5 billion. In the United States, the National Science Foundation alone awarded 389 new or continuing IPY research grants for a total of nearly $160 million. Of those, 122 projects involved activities in Alaska. University of Alaska Fairbanks’ (UAF) faculty received thirty-five NSF awards totaling $23.3 million, demonstrating clearly both the capabilities and the interests of our researchers. Our scientists were on the ground—in the field, in rural Alaska communities, around the globe, and in science centers across the country. They reached out to help educate the public and spent tireless hours documenting, collecting, and investigating at both ends of the Earth. Their efforts helped fuel the international momentum of IPY and brought incredible recognition to our state and university. Thanks to the commitment of the University of Alaska President Mark Hamilton, Vice President Craig Dorman, and UAF Chancellor Stephen Jones, significant resources were made available to extend the benefits of IPY throughout Alaska. As UAF’s vice chancellor for research at the time, I was tasked with developing a strategy for investing these funds in a sustainable and productive way. I, in turn, convened a steering group comprised of members representing the arctic research, teaching, and outreach expertise that our university is renowned for.2 Early on, Hajo Eicken and Amy Lauren Lovecraft lobbied for modest support to initiate a multidisciplinary research outreach activity they called North by 2020. Their idea was to create a forum that would bring scholars, elders, students, and experts from the public and private sectors to address several social-ecological issues facing the people of the Far North. I admit to being somewhat dubious at the time: I couldn’t see how they could accomplish even a large portion of what they were proposing for so little investment. Besides, the social-ecological issues they proposed to tackle were complex, culturally sensitive, and potentially divisive. But I had enough confidence in the leaders to believe that even if they had to scale down their ambitions, the concept and potential gains were well worth supporting. The over seven hundred pages encompassing North by 2020: Perspectives on Alaska’s Changing Social-Ecological Systems are clear documentation that my doubts were misplaced. The contributions in this volume reveal how much common ground can be gained when scientific rigor and cultural perspectives are skillfully and equitably intertwined. Anyone who examines this book—even in part—will be enriched in some way by its contents. By incorporating informative tutorials and rigorous research papers with moving personal experiences and essays spanning social sciences and the arts, Eicken and Lovecraft cast a multicultural light on

Forewordâ•…xiii

the challenges and opportunities facing residents of a rapidly changing Arctic. The editors and contributors to this volume are to be commended for a job well done. Karl Weyprecht would be proud. Virgil L. (Buck) Sharpton Chair, US Arctic Research Commission President’s Professor, UAF November 16, 2010

Endnotes 1

2

Why two years? The widely held explanation is that two years were required to ensure both summer and winter data collection at both poles. The more likely reason, however, is that polar expeditions—especially before air transport was common—took a long time to stage and mount. The custom has carried through subsequent IPYs. One of the unique aspects of the program born of this process was the energetic participation of so many young researchers. Through our Young Researchers’ Network, our IPY postdoctoral program, and North by 2020, we encouraged interactions between many of our senior scientists—those inspired by the last IPY—and a new cohort of polar researchers. Today our young scientists have a fresh look toward their research and how it can be communicated to the world. The enthusiasm, perspectives, and expertise of this generation of UAF’s “Young Turks” will carry us to the next IPY.

Preface

F

ocused on various aspects of change in Alaska and the circumpolar North, this book summarizes and reflects on a range of different activities and findings emerging from the Fourth International Polar Year (IPY). Most of the contributions gathered in this volume emerged from the University of Alaska’s (UA) North by 2020: A Forum for Local and Global Perspectives on the North, which brought together researchers, teachers, students, and a broad range of experts and contributors from within Alaska and abroad to explore the topic of a changing North. We are grateful to all contributors and participants in this bottom-up process for sharing so generously their time and expertise; the diversity of people and perspectives represented in North by 2020 has made this an exciting and rewarding effort. We were fortunate to have the backing and financial support of the University of Alaska, which provided the ideal vessel for the diversity of work reported on in later chapters of this volume. In particular, we acknowledge the critical support provided by then Vice Chancellor for Research Virgil “Buck” Sharpton at the University of Alaska Fairbanks (UAF). Without Buck’s guidance in the early stages and his continued encouragement and backing throughout the project this work would not have been possible. Anita Hartmann, associate dean of the College of Liberal Arts at UAF, also played an important role in fostering and guiding the work summarized in this volume, both as associate director of the North by 2020 forum and as co-chair of the UA IPY Subcommittee on Research. We are also grateful for the support and input provided by the other subcommittee members, who developed a strategy and implementation plan that informed much of the initial stages of North by 2020. While the North by 2020 forum theme leaders and section editors for this volume are highlighted throughout this text, we would like to acknowledge their critical engagement and leadership, which helped bring this effort together in an innovative way. We thank you! xv

xviâ•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

None of the activities that this volume builds on would have been possible without various forms of support, including crucial financial contributions, by a range of institutions. While these are explicitly referred to in the various chapters and the acknowledgments section of this book, we would like to highlight the important role played by a few key supporters. These include the US Department of State, which provided important funding to get core aspects of North by 2020 under way. The engagement by Julie Gourley, US senior arctic official, during a visit to Fairbanks was also helpful. At a critical stage in North by 2020 activities, we were fortunate to win as a partner the Inland Northwest Research Alliance (INRA), in particular Executive Director Steve Billingsley and Director of Business and Research Development Fred Sica, who, along with Executive Assistant Michelle Rutledge, provided financial and strategic support for an IPY synthesis symposium hosted by the University of Alaska Fairbanks in March 2009. The support from the International Arctic Research Center (IARC) and Director Larry Hinzman, as well as UAF Chancellor Brian Rogers, has been important in allowing for the production of this volume and for the North by 2020 forum to grow into its next phase. Much of the work reported in this volume builds on the significant commitment that the National Science Foundation, and in particular the Arctic Division of the Office of Polar Programs, made in supporting IPY activities in the North. These funds enabled some of the research that a range of other activities were then able to build on. Numerous individuals were instrumental in bringing this volume to fruition. We are particularly grateful for the editing skills of Tom Alton and the crucial help of Mette Kaufman in pulling together the documents and images that make up this volume. Berill Blair and Nathan Coutsoubos helped organize meetings and prepare documents at key stages of the North by 2020 process. Elisabeth Dabney and Sue Mitchell with the UA Press were extremely helpful in getting this book off the ground. Thanks also to a number of colleagues who provided feedback on earlier drafts of this volume or sections thereof. Maya Salganek and Julie Decker curated the artwork plates introducing each section of this book, and we are grateful for their thoughtfulness and perseverance. With an effort as broad and diverse as this, the circle of those who made it happen is much wider than can be acknowledged here; to all those who helped along the way we are grateful and appreciate your engagement. Amy Lauren Lovecraft (Oslo, Norway) and Hajo Eicken (Fairbanks, Alaska) January 2011

1

A Holistic Approach for a Changing North

Section editors: Amy Lauren Lovecraft and Hajo Eicken

PLATE 001 Tipping Point 2 Jessie Worth Hedden Mixed media on panel 28" x 24" 2008 Photo by James Barker

1.1

Introduction by amy lauren lovecraft

I

n one generation the foundations for life in the Arctic are being transformed. Our volume is an effort to create an integrated inquiry into the social-ecological systems of the Alaska region experiencing rapid changes. The different sections of our volume analyze, illustrate, and discuss aspects of human-environmental systems whose resilience is threatened, in particular through erosion of the services derived from ecosystems supporting life in the North. As a whole, it assembles scholarship across different disciplines and fields of knowledge directed at the question: How can Alaska and the circumpolar North best understand the pitfalls and opportunities of rapid change? Until recently, the answers to this question have tended to come in disciplinary modes. “In most areas of knowledge, science possesses piecemeal (disciplinary) knowledge produced by reductionism, but lacks the overall synthetic understanding of the interactions produced through the application of the holistic approach” (Østreng 2010:14). This volume provides a richer understanding of the effects of environmental change across the Alaska region by assembling scientific data, elder expertise, artistic expression, private-sector experts, and case-study depth in a holistic depiction of the rapidly changing North. Rather than dividing the research by discipline, we have thematically organized our efforts to address social and environmental systems experiencing some of the greatest stressors. The sections are thematically organized by scholarship subject area: (1) social-ecological approach and methods, (2) the knowledge of indigenous peoples, (3) northern freshwater systems, (4) Arctic coastal systems, (5) living marine resources, (6) marine infrastructure and transport, (7) oil and gas development, and (8) artistic expression of climate change. Each explains the social and environmental transformations occurring in the Alaska region from a different set of perspectives. We close with a synthesizing chapter (9) to bring together the major lessons and consider how decision-makers might plan for the 3

4â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

future of the Arctic. Sections are linked by a brief segue to help the reader see the interconnectedness of the different themes. In a book of this breadth we want our readers to have bridges on their journey from which they can see how separate sets of investigations are fundamentally related. Each section has been compiled by one or more editors who are experts in the subject area. They have collected chapters tied to the section subject and written introductions explaining the importance of the research area and how each chapter in it contributes to a clearer, more holistic understanding of the Alaska region. Each section benchmarks the state of their subjects and considers what their futures hold. For example, the section on indigenous knowledge explains the concept of indigenous knowledge, how it relates to the social-ecological systems of the Alaska region, and why it is imperative to maintain it as both a source of vital information and a necessary feature of cultural resilience; the section on the arts focuses on the expressive nature of the social-ecological system, demonstrating how people are grappling to depict the meanings of environmental changes. We conclude with some scenarios for the future of the Alaska region and recommendations we hope can help decision-makers plan for those most affected by these changes. This organization, importantly, more accurately demonstrates dynamics of northern systems because it fosters the synthesis of lessons revealed across specializations rather than narrowly focusing on physical, biological, or social sciences. The first section of this book is designed to contextualize the scope, rationale, and underlying methods of our project. Chapter 1.2 outlines the mandate of the International Polar Year and explains the theoretical and practical underpinnings of our project’s transdisciplinarity in relation to trends in Arctic research. In Chapter 1.3, Walsh et al. explore, in straightforward language, how scenarios of Arctic change are developed. They present an introduction to how scientists measure changes, formulate predictions, and think about uncertainty in the future. Their chapter also primes the reader to consider key attributes that pervade the research of complex systems such as surprise, uncertainty, and feedbacks. Chapter 1.4 then provides a brief case study of wildland fire to illustrate social-ecological system (SES) analysis across scales from global to local.

Reference Østreng, W. 2010. Science without boundaries: Interdisciplinarity in research, society, and politics. New York: University Press of America.

1.2

Transdisciplinary Collaboration in the Fourth International Polar Year: Connecting Studies of Arctic Change across the Sciences and the Arts by amy lauren lovecraft and hajo eicken

T

his edited volume is a response to the vision of the Fourth International Polar Year (IPY-4). It stems from an innovative transdisciplinary project—North by 2020: A Forum for Local and Global Perspectives on the North. The aims of the forum have been twofold: (1) to benchmark what we know about the social-ecological systems of the Alaska region that are most vulnerable to the key drivers of change in the Arctic and (2) to bring this information into substantive discussions about the future of the Far North. We use the phrase “Alaska region” to denote the geographic area that is the focus of our study (see Figure 1.4.4 for a map) but without drawing artificial boundaries at state borderlines because the subjects of our volume themselves (e.g., waterways, peoples, animals, and pollutants) are a part of a vast interconnected circumpolar system. Our latter aim is an ongoing process of enhancing the participation of relevant stakeholders in defining and evaluating research projects alongside the dissemination of knowledge through documents, workshops, and other products and activities. This volume itself has been created through the collaboration of a diverse group of people involved with the North by 2020 forum over the past several years. It showcases and translates the perspectives from scholars, elders, students, and experts from the public and private sectors to provide an overview of several social-ecological systems of major concern in the Alaska region.

5

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The Fourth International Polar Year While global initiatives come and go, IPY-4 has been a powerful force to foster internationally coordinated research, raise awareness, stimulate funding, and showcase both the Arctic and Antarctic as important regions of the globe. It was planned as “an intensive burst of internationally coordinated, interdisciplinary, scientific research and observations” to “exploit the intellectual resources and science assets of nations worldwide to make major advances in polar knowledge and understanding while leaving a legacy of new or enhanced observational systems, facilities and infrastructure” (ICSU 2004:7). The International Polar Year was designated as 2007–2008, but the “official observing period” was March 1, 2007, to March 1, 2009, to capture two full annual cycles of research work at the poles. IPY-4 was significantly different from the three prior in that it not only coordinated research on the physical environment of the polar regions but also included work on the “human dimension.” As one of the six IPY research themes, this one charged researchers “to investigate the cultural, historical, and social processes that shape the sustainability of circumpolar human societies, and to identify their unique contributions to global cultural diversity and citizenship” (ICSU 2004:9). Even as this volume goes to press, the IPY legacy has brought together researchers from across the globe to share data at major international conferences, with another large meeting planned for 2012 in Montreal. It appears that this “burst” has created new research directions, partnerships, debates, and products. From the perspective of Alaska, and the Arctic as a whole, what did the IPY actually charge us to do? Table 1.2.1 demonstrates how the US National Academy of Sciences conceptualized the IPY, and it generally reflects the national plans of other participants as well.

Trends in Arctic Sciences While IPY-4 was planned among nations and international scientific bodies, its execution was largely driven by national and international scientific and professional organizations, universities, and strong contributions from key senior polar researchers and activists. During the last two decades, the conduct of polar research and more generally northern circumpolar research has evolved substantially. These changes have been driven by a shift in the perceived importance of the Arctic by both public and private sectors across the globe. The political relationships present during the International Geophysical Year 1957–1958 have changed radically and a “global environmental problematique” has supplanted the Cold War as the major polar concern (Shadian and Tennberg 2009:2). Concurrent to this geopolitical

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…7 Table 1.2.1. US National Committee’s vision for the Fourth International Polar Year. The U.S. National Committee for IPY, established by the Polar Research Board of the National Academy of Sciences, formulated the vision for U.S. participation in IPY. That vision was articulated in a report called A Vision for the International Polar Year 2007–2008. In the report, the committee identified seven recommendations for the U.S. science community and agencies to address during IPY. The U.S. IPY effort, it said, should: •

Excite and engage the public, with the goals of increasing understanding of the importance of the polar regions in the global system and advancing the nation’s general science literacy.

•

Use IPY to begin a sustained effort to assess large-scale environmental change and variability in the polar regions.

•

Pioneer new polar studies of coupled human–natural systems that are critical to U.S. societal, economic, and strategic interests.

•

Explore new scientific frontiers from the molecular to the planetary scale.

•

Use IPY as an opportunity to design and implement multidisciplinary polar observing networks that will provide a long-term perspective on climate change and other phenomena.

•

Invest in critical physical and human infrastructure and technology to guarantee that IPY leaves a legacy of enduring benefits for the nation and for the residents of northern regions.

•

Encourage researchers to act as leaders in IPY efforts.

Source: Reprinted from http://www.ipy.gov/Default.aspx?tabid=53.

shift is the growth in participation of subnational governments, non-state actors, transnational organizations, and private business in shaping Arctic decision making. Notably, the settlements of land claims and other new agreements with governments by many Arctic indigenous peoples have altered the political-economic geography of the north (Zellen 2009). The production of Arctic knowledge no longer rests solely with governments and the management of Arctic living and nonliving resources has become an international concern. In short, IPY-4 has mirrored “changes in international society and the relationship between science and society” (Nilsson 2009:28). This has affected how scientists choose methodological approaches, consider their research subjects, engage with communities and individuals, and perceive the “problems” of the Arctic. It has also promoted the following general trends in arctic science endeavors:

8â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

Multidisciplinarity in methods and research team building. The movement at the US National Science Foundation in the late 1990s to fund interdisciplinary programs stemmed from a realization that students seeking graduate training in the sciences and engineering often did not graduate with a suite of skills diverse enough to prepare them for the “contemporary stresses” of the job market or to engage the complex questions societies face in the future (COSEPUP 1995:75). This dovetailed with universities in the United States that had been adding interdisciplinary programs to their education as part of a growing trend to study environmental policy problems from both social and natural science perspectives. The proliferation of undergraduate environmental studies majors offered at colleges and universities has been one example of this cross-disciplinary movement. Consequently, most American funding agencies have encouraged interdisciplinary teams and approaches to research. In roughly the same time period this trend also developed in Sweden, Norway, and Germany as interdisciplinary programs and centers of research were encouraged and funded (Østreng 2010). While polar research has long enjoyed a tradition of interdisciplinary collaboration, these broader developments have greatly enhanced capacities for collaborative research that spans several disciplines and nations. The need to save on costs in an era of shrinking budgets. The Arctic is a costly location to perform research either on the ground or remotely. Even prior to the economic recessions of the 2000s, the end of the Cold War and the rise of public focus on national spending signaled that the funding for military, research, and other US arctic endeavors might shrink. The Alaska region is one of limited infrastructure and extreme climate. Its land and seascapes challenge people and equipment, creating a need to combine resources and collaborate nationally (e.g., across research centers or agencies) or internationally (e.g., through the shared use of icebreakers and other large-scale research platforms). Formerly marginalized points of view are now being recognized and validated. The Native land claims settlements in Alaska during the 1970s represented a shift in the US executive branch on policies related to indigenous peoples. It meant that rather than being perceived as wards of the state, indigenous people were empowered as stakeholders and citizens. Intertwined with this development has been the growing credibility among scientists of indigenous or local knowledge. In particular, in Alaska, indigenous ways of understanding snow, ice, weather, and ecosystems have started to inform many research projects. Across circumpolar nations rural communities and individuals have become partners in designing projects, researching the changes witnessed, and participating in governance. On the international stage, transnational organizations of indigenous peoples have

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…9

become active in Arctic making. For example, the Inuit Circumpolar Council and the Saami Council both hold the status of Permanent Participant on the Arctic Council. Increasing political and public attention is being given to the Arctic. While the International Polar Year has been enveloped in this trend toward public attention, it has also stemmed from, on the one hand, the centuries-old fascination with the Alaska frontier and, on the other, the new opportunities for hydrocarbon exploitation and shipping across the top of the world. Both are strongly affected by technological advances and a diminished sea ice cover. They also bring in to sharp focus the arctic nations’ concerns related to national boundaries. Recent continental shelf exploration and bilateral agreements indicate that Russia, Canada, and the United States are particularly keen on determining borders. This greater scrutiny popularizes arctic issues, such as the adoption by southern populations in the United States and Canada of the polar bear as a hallmark of climate change. Greater scrutiny may also place undue stresses on local arctic populations already grappling with the multiple dimensions of change on the ground. Climate change is faster at the poles, and, as the Arctic changes, surprises will arise. As the Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA 2004) and other scientific findings have demonstrated, changes will be comparatively rapid in the North. As ecosystem functions shift, there is a great deal of uncertainty related to what will happen to freshwater systems, forests, marine ecosystems, and other key aspects of the natural world. Complexity science indicates that unexpected or surprising developments are key features of complex systems. Thus researchers and stakeholders have to predict, creatively imagine, and plan for new future states of the circumpolar North that may have seemed improbable, if not impossible, a few decades ago. New technologies and advanced knowledge have expanded the scope of research to include complexity and extend across all relevant scales. Innovative instrumentation and satellite remote sensing technologies have provided scientists with unprecedented breadth and depth of data coverage, often in real time. But there has also been the recognition, in part due to the new capabilities of measurement and new scientific theories of ecosystems, that the Far North is not a “wasteland” but a highly productive and vital feature of global ecological and climate processes. These twin forces improve understanding of the Arctic as a whole while also allowing those affected by change to respond in more effective ways to adapt to or benefit from such change.

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These interrelated trends, when considered together, have pushed arctic researchers, at their best, into a new frontier where cross-disciplinary teamwork is the norm; where indigenous peoples are partners in helping to define and execute research projects; and where the results have an impact on a global audience. In such an era, highlighted by the worldwide participation in the International Polar Year, it is vital to foster legacies from collaboration that engage multiple viewpoints and generate useful, holistic sets of information that can help society and individuals cope with change.

A Response from Alaska: The North by 2020 Forum as a “Bottom-up” Approach to Advance Transdisciplinary Arctic Research Considering the growing momentum of the Fourth International Polar Year, the North by 2020 forum was formed by educators and researchers across all of the University of Alaska campuses in 2006 to explore, discuss, plan, and prepare opportunities for sustainable development in a North experiencing rapid transformation. While many definitions exist for collaborative work across disciplines, the concept of “transdisciplinarity” has come to define “transcending the boundary between the academe and stakeholder expertise” where the “nature and characteristics of scientific knowledge as we know it” can be produced by attention to “real world problems”; in partnership “with a wide range of stakeholder expertise representing a raft of conflicting needs, interests, and values”; and through a research process “based on deliberative strategic planning” (Østreng 2010:29–31). As such, North by 2020 was designed to facilitate research and learning across academic disciplinary boundaries to address the stakeholder concerns surrounding northern futures while at the same time engaging public, private, and government experts. In this context, it greatly helped that many scientists at the University of Alaska were successful in obtaining substantial research support from the National Science Foundation to help build the US Arctic Observing Network (AON). The AON represented a major US contribution to the IPY and was conceived as a broad interagency effort directed at both answering key scientific questions and serving the needs of society and key stakeholders (IARPC 2007). Out of an initial thirty-four funded projects, University of Alaska researchers were leading five and were involved in a total of eleven projects, spanning the entire breadth of disciplines. The foundation upon which the North by 2020 forum was built drew in part from these projects. While hosted by the University of Alaska and led primarily by research scholars, the forum has been open to a variety of participants due to its structure. To

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facilitate the exploration of critical areas of change in the Alaska region, it sought to engage researchers and their stakeholders thematically. Rather than in a top-down process where rigid research agendas were determined and participants solicited, the forum built itself around existing networks of researchers and their projects to develop a common set of lessons about rapid change in vulnerable systems and the capacity of these systems to adapt to such change. One could consider the forum’s mission as tied both to the development of research deliverables and to transdisciplinary modes of inquiry and communication. Our driving question also speaks to the IPY as an opportunity to reflect on how science works: How do researchers collect data in meaningful ways to analyze and communicate the interconnected transformations being experienced in the Alaska region and the Far North more generally? The recognition that transformations of human and environmental systems are inherently interrelated has been the broad starting point for the North by 2020 researchers. The key drivers of change across the circumpolar North can be generally explained across four dimensions. First, there are regime shifts in climate and the environment that are about to exceed the range of past variability and change. This means that new ways of understanding will have to arise to meet the challenges of unpredicted qualities in our natural world. Second, there is an increasing interdependence between the Arctic region and global processes. This is a social characteristic due to technology that permits products of the Far North to reach global markets, and it brings distant ideas and practices to a region until recently isolated from much of the rest of the world. It is also an environmental phenomenon as science demonstrates the vital role the northern oceans, ice bodies, and atmosphere play in climate, weather, and biophysical patterns across the globe. Third, the combination of rapid technological development, the end of the Cold War, changing structures of governance related to indigenous peoples, and rapid changes in ecosystem functioning has sweeping impacts on northern populations and cultures. This can be seen in both rural and urban areas of the circumpolar North, where patterns of subsistence and travel tied to snow and ice are no longer reliable and infrastructure maintenance grows more costly. Fourth, and often popularized in the media, there is an expansion of global geopolitical and economic interests into the North. This is largely due to the potential for hydrocarbon exploitation, but it also relates to the development of marine shipping, tourism opportunities, and national views about boundary security, species protection, and citizen identity. With such a broad set of transformations, an equally broad approach was needed to capture, at a minimum, key responses to these drivers. This edited volume explores the vulnerability, resilience, and adaptation of people and their environments in the Alaska region. Our work demonstrates the importance of the Far North in the broader efforts of scientists to assess large-scale environmental change and variability at the poles. A changing climate is altering fundamental

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geophysical and biological features of life in the Arctic. Simultaneously, socialeconomic pressures are shifting the way in which societies perceive and use their natural surroundings. In and around Alaska’s coastal regions, this set of dual pressures is particularly intense. Diminishing sea ice, increased economic interests in developing renewable and nonrenewable resources, debate over the role of protected animals and habitats, and increasing threats to indigenous peoples’ ways of living have all resulted in intense pressure on an area of the earth that is highly vulnerable to change. The capacity for the Arctic and its peoples to be resilient in the face of adversity is evident from the centuries in which this social-ecological system has provided conditions from which humans have derived benefits. But in the twenty-first century, the environment of the circumpolar North has begun to transform to the extent that even some adaptive capacity may be threatened. Now, our work contributes to a strategic human interest: further understanding of the current functioning and human uses of ecosystems and landscapes in the Alaska region and sketching out scenarios that describe plausible changes anticipated over the next decade or two to foster creative adaptation in a changing North.

Methodological Approach In March 2009, the University of Alaska Fairbanks was host to a multidisciplinary symposium, “Lessons from Continuity and Change in the Fourth International Polar Year.” The purpose of the symposium was to present initial results from IPY research and provide an integrative forum for cross-disciplinary communication (http://institute.inra.org/ipy/). The keynote speaker was Nobel Prize winner Dr. Murray Gell-Mann. His public lecture focused on how the tendency to compartmentalize research can produce skewed results because in complex systems an additive approach to individual features of a system will not explain the transformative behavior of the whole. He suggests that such specialized studies be complemented with a “Crude Look at the Whole.” In a recent book considering sustainability he writes, A great deal of research and teaching in the sciences and the humanities, especially at universities, is confined to individual departments representing particular fields of knowledge. While specialization and sub-specialization are inevitable and necessary, they need to be supplemented by research and teaching that transcend somewhat narrow disciplinary boundaries. .╯.╯. In considering a very complex system, we tend to break it up into more manageable parts or aspects and to study these more

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or less separately.╯.╯. . The difficulty is that any attempt to understand a nonlinear system, especially a complex one, by assembling various parts or aspects will only work if those parts or aspects interact weakly, so that the whole system is decomposable. But that is not true of the world problematique. In that sense there is truth in the old adage that the whole is more than the sum of its parts. .╯.╯. What we need, then, is not just detailed work on separate issues, but also the efforts of teams of brilliant thinkers, many of them specialists, devoted to considering the “whole ball of wax.” It can, of course, be argued that this is too big a job for any single group of people, no matter how talented or erudite. This is true. Of course such an ambitious aim can be accomplished only crudely, and that is why I refer to it as taking a “Crude Look at the Whole” (CLAW). (Gell-Mann 2010:2–3) This is the approach our book takes. We cannot present every system in its entirety nor touch comprehensively on all the aspects of the Alaska region facing rapid change. Rather, we provide insight, evidence, art, and firsthand accounts related to these changes so that the reader can gain a more holistic understanding of the challenges and opportunities facing Alaska and the circumpolar North more generally. We have, however, hoped to reduce the crudeness of our presentation by taking a research approach grounded in the growing field of social-ecological systems study.

Studying Social-Ecological Systems: Definitions and Methods The phrase “social-ecological system” (SES) has evolved primarily from ecology and policy literatures. It draws on the concept of human–environment coupled systems where a researcher seeks to examine both the support of a society by its environment and how the society concurrently acts to affect its environment (Anderies et al. 2004; Berkes and Folke 1998; Chapin et al. 2009; Lovecraft 2008). This realm of linkage between the two spheres is dynamic and complex, and it may display emergent properties. By dynamic, it is understood that any SES contains ongoing feedback loops between people and the natural world and a change in one sphere can affect others even across scales of action (Scheffer 2009). The characteristic of complexity means that social-ecological systems tend to behave as systems, assemblages of parts that interact and thereby form a unitary whole. One cannot

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understand them by taking apart the pieces and analyzing them in an additive fashion. Instead, the organizational qualities and equilibria are dependent on suites of factors whose behavior is inherently affected by other factors in the system (Kay et al. 1999). Lastly, the concept of emergence relates to the capacity of a system to produce novel and coherent structures, patterns, and properties during the process of self-organization within a system (Corning 2002). For SESs, this feature has two fundamental implications. First, these systems cannot be reduced to a set of composite properties that can deterministically foretell all possible outcomes— thus surprises, or unintended consequences, can and do arise (Gunderson 2003). Second, since any SES also contains people who have agency and hold values, the structures, patterns, and properties of any given SES are products of creative coconstructive forces imbued with deep cultural meanings whose expression (e.g., artistic, managerial, spiritual) is itself a vital variable in the functioning of the system and which some notable scientists even regard as an indication of the sacred (Kauffman 2008). While these qualities may make research of SESs appear daunting, one can take a location, for example, Alaska, and begin to understand it through examining subsets of a social-ecological system. In other words, we know that the climate is changing, and we have evidence of the different ways these changes are borne out across the ecology of land and seascapes, in weather patterns, in geophysical features, and the perceptions of those who live there. Given these changes, how might different coupled human–environmental systems respond? What might these responses mean to future human actions (e.g., policy planning, cultural adaptations) and environmental qualities (e.g., seal populations, forestation)? To answer such questions, North by 2020 was designed as a transdisciplinary forum so that many different properties of SESs could be examined and shared across methodological boundaries. Through the support of the University of Alaska and other sponsors, we were able to use some seed money and heavy advertising among a wide group of colleagues to bring together natural, physical, and social scientists working on similar problems but from different points of view. What emerged was a subset of systems that, while not comprehensive of the entire Alaska SES (something beyond the scope of perhaps any book), are facing rapid changes now and whose changes will affect the lives of people both residing in them and dependent on them from a distance. The final presentation of SESs for this volume has been deliberative. The major thread tying the thematic sections together is the cryosphere. The word has its root in the ancient Greek word “kryos,” referring to cold or frost. In modern parlance, it refers to all the locations on the planet where water is in its solid form either above ground as freshwater ice or sea ice, glaciers, and snow or below ground as permafrost. As Sections 3 and 4 demonstrate, it is exactly this feature of the Earth that

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is most rapidly changing. Questions related to the timing and amount of snowfall, how long rivers stay frozen, at what depth and over what regions one finds permafrost, and to what extent the sea ice cover is thinning and shrinking are bound up together, and the answers to each figure prominently in the lives of Alaskans and the future of their state. The cryosphere is central to Alaska’s fresh water in the Interior, the coastal regions, and the marine areas surrounding the state. It is a physical phenomenon that has social impacts far beyond simply providing locations and services of value to people. The changing cryosphere affects economic, political, and spiritual dimensions of people’s lives. These changes have social implications because of the tight interrelationship between people and their environments in the North. This is true not only of the Native Alaska peoples but also of those whose livelihoods are tied to natural resource exploitation. It is true of municipalities and homeowners who face new challenges to building and living across a state with permafrost. The changes in these systems affect the ways people communicate, not only in the language they use to describe their environment and relationship to it but also in visual communication of art and dance. As society wrestles with how to understand changing cultural patterns, the arts reflect this challenge. We view the humanities perspectives in the final section of our volume that highlight expressions in the arts as a key component of explaining northern change. The research of social-ecological systems is a complex task. It has required most of the North by 2020 participants to consider methods and approaches outside of their own disciplinary training, to look beyond a single location or geographic boundary, and to take a long-term perspective on what the changes and responses discovered mean for Alaska and its inhabitants. Tied to the concept of presenting our readers with both social and ecological research has been the desire to present multiple standpoints. We wished to present “less partial and distorted accounts of the entire social order” and to provide “a causal, critical account of regularities of the natural and social worlds and their underlying causal tendencies” (Harding 1992:583). In other words, diversity of methods and standpoints presents a more genuine depiction of reality in the Alaska regions tied to cryospheric changes than any single perspective could. Based on this belief, we have analyzed the systems in this volume, divided for readability into thematic sections, through diverse methods. We have intentionally brought together a broad range of expertise to explain what is happening in the Arctic and what it means for the people who live, work, and play in and simply hold dear the Alaska region. Our goal in this text is to present a picture of the Alaska region that is rich—rooted in empirical evidence, depicted through multiple perspectives, and not devoid of values. This text focuses on a slice of the most vulnerable aspects of Alaska, and it contextualizes them in terms of the entire circumpolar North. We hope our readers understand that the text does not simply

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set up current characteristics of Arctic change; it also poses potential futures for the region and proposes how individuals, governments, and private industry might set priorities for the near- and long-term future that can enhance arctic resilience. There are naturally a couple of caveats. First, while North by 2020 as a forum covered subjects beyond those represented in this book, for the sake of manageability we have narrowed our presentation to the key sets of findings of each research group, as defined by their themes (e.g., living marine resources, freshwater systems). Second, our goal is not to present any particular political or policy strategy but to highlight the major opportunities and problems that need to be addressed by the year 2020. We sincerely hope to promote communication and facilitate strategizing across public and private sectors so that stakeholders tied to these systems can become aware and active in planning their own futures—futures that can sustain the valuable properties of arctic ecosystems and cultures. We would like our work to serve as a call to active engagement, debate, discussion, and participation. Another hope is that this book will demonstrate an effort at transdiciplinary research in a changing Arctic, not only in its contents but also in its research approach to the subject. As a final, perhaps more personal, comment, it is the view of the editors that meaningful research cannot sit in bins on shelves or speak only to narrow audiences. As such, researchers must be willing to invest time in translating their data into a meaningful discourse that can accurately represent the complexity of socialecological systems as dynamic bounded units, themselves changing, and nested within a global system that also changes. We believe that the public university has an important role to play, both in helping society bring into focus plausible scenarios of future developments and by making findings from research, such as that of IPY-4, accessible to stakeholders and the public at large. It is our desire that this volume can serve to help facilitate participatory engagement across and outside of the university system. It is possible that disciplined yet imaginative speculation about the longer-term future can be of some help seizing opportunities and in avoiding some of the worst catastrophes. But in thinking about the future let us take seriously the idea of a “Crude Look at the Whole.” (Gell-Mann 2010:7)

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References Anderies, J. M., M. A. Janssen, and E. Ostrom. 2004. A framework to analyze the robustness of social-ecological systems from an institutional perspective. Ecology and Society 9(1), 18. Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming Arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berkes, F., and C. Folke (eds.). 1998. Linking social and ecological systems: Management practices and social mechanisms for building resilience. New York: Cambridge University Press. Chapin, S. F., C. Folke, and G. P. Kofinas. 2009. A framework for understanding change. In Principles of ecosystem stewardship: Resilience–based natural resource management in a changing world. Edited by S. F. Chapin, G. P. Kofinas, and C. Folke. New York: Springer. Committee on Science, Engineering, and Public Policy (COSEPUP). 1995. Reshaping the graduate education of scientists and engineers. Washington DC: The National Academies Press. Corning, P. A. 2002. The re-emergence of “emergence”: A venerable concept in search of a theory. Complexity 7(6), 18–30. Gell-Mann, M. 2010. Transformations of the twenty-first century: Transitions to greater sustainability. In Global sustainability: A Nobel cause. Edited by H. J. Schellnhuber, M. Molina, N. Stern, V. Huber, and S. Kadner. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gunderson, L. H. 2003. Adaptive dancing: Interactions between social resilience and ecological crises. In Navigating social-ecological systems: Building resilience for complexity and change. Edited by F. Berkes, J. Colding, and C. Folke. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Harding, S. 1992. After the neutrality ideal: Science, politics, and strong objectivity. Social Research 59(3), 567–587. ICSU IPY 2007–2008 Planning Group. 2004. A framework for the International Polar Year 2007–2008. International Council for Science. Interagency Arctic Policy Research Committee (IARPC). 2007. Arctic Observing Network (AON): Toward a US contribution to pan-arctic observing. Arctic Research of the U.S., 21, 1–94. Kauffman, S. A. 2008. Reinventing the sacred: A new view of science, reason, and religion. New York: Basic Books. Kay, J. J., H. Reigier, M. Boyle, and G. R. Francis. 1999. An ecosystem approach for sustainability: Addressing the challenge of complexity. Futures 31(7), 721–742. Lovecraft, A. L. 2008. Climate change and arctic cases: A normative exploration of socialecological system analysis. In Political theory and global climate change. Edited by Steve Vanderheiden. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

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Nilsson, A. E. 2009. A changing Arctic climate: More than just weather. In Legacies and change in polar sciences: Historical, legal, and political reflections on the international polar year. Edited by J. M. Shadian and M. Tennberg. Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Østreng, W. 2010. Science without boundaries: Interdisciplinarity in research, society, and politics. New York: University Press of America. Scheffer, M. 2009. Critical transitions in nature and society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Shadian, J., and M. Tennberg. 2009. Introduction. In Legacies and change in polar sciences: Historical, legal, and political reflections on the international polar year. Edited by J. M. Shadian and M. Tennberg. Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Zellen, B. 2009. Arctic doom, Arctic boom: The geopolitics of climate change in the Arctic. Denver, CO: Praeger.

1.3

Scenarios as a Tool to Understand and Respond to Change by john e. walsh, marc mueller-stoffels, and peter h. larsen

A

book addressing anticipated changes over the next few decades faces a fundamental conundrum. On one hand, communities, planners, and decision-makers demand more detailed and robust information about the future of social-ecological systems of Alaska and the North. On the other hand, various uncertainties are inherent in predictions about the future. There is an emerging need to address these uncertainties in a rigorous manner, while enabling planners and other decision-makers to continue to make decisions about the future despite these uncertainties. Subsequent sections will provide examples of how this is being done in particular cases. In the first part of this chapter, we will set the stage by introducing the concepts of scenarios, projections, and uncertainties, with an emphasis on the roles of linked uncertainty when attempting to model entire systems. Because this volume addresses a suite of interactive changes across high latitudes, it is appropriate to illustrate these concepts with examples from the realms of climate modeling and integrated assessment modeling. These two realms of application are the subjects of the second and third parts of this chapter. An overall thrust is the cascade of uncertainty through a predictive system that encompasses economic and ecological components as well as physical drivers. While the key concepts are described in detail in the following sections, we preface this discussion with the essential distinctions between the major tools that pertain to information about the future. Scenarios are essentially a collective set of assumptions about possible futures, intended to give the decision-maker a strategy-planning framework. A projection is a prediction, usually limited to part of an overall system, that is based on—and hence contingent on—a particular scenario or suite of scenarios that includes the factors expected to influence that part of

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the system for which future information is desired. A prediction is a forecast of the future without regard to contingencies. We now provide background and examples for each of these concepts, and we show how uncertainty is an essential consideration in their use as tools that can connect researchers to planners and to others who must make decisions based on anticipated trajectories of social-ecological changes in the North. As noted in the synopsis and in the case studies of the following chapters, the uncertainties are generally of sufficient magnitude that projections (or predictions) are, in some respects, reduced to speculation on the near and especially the long-term future. Nevertheless, the available information is often the best guidance to provide continuity amid change and to foster creative adaptation.

Introduction to Scenarios If we think of the world around us as a system with many driving factors, interactions, and feedbacks, then it should not come as a surprise that a comprehensive and precise forecasting of the future state of this entire system is not feasible. Furthermore, even if we were able to understand and model all driving factors, interactions, and feedbacks correctly, such a model would exhibit a host of nonlinearities, which can cause strong divergence of model runs with similar parameters. This makes the model outcome sensitive to initial conditions, such as measurements (e.g., data collected in the field) and extrapolation (e.g., data supplied by other models). For example, state-of-the-art weather forecast models require a certain number of field stations and remote sensors gathering current weather data to give accurate regional and local long-term forecasts. Even the smallest error in the current state will grow as the forecast evolves, and some such errors are unavoidable. Thus, there is always a source of error, which will lead to uncertainty, even if the model producing the forecast were perfect. And since we are far from being able to create perfect models, the sources for uncertainties in model outcome are numerous. However, this chapter is not meant to discount such modeling approaches as they are the current state of the art in forecasting, and are constantly being improved. Nonetheless, the levels of uncertainty and inter-model divergences with increasing time-spans and levels of complexity should be troubling for any decision-maker who has to plan for the future based on such data. This is where scenarios are a useful and powerful tool; they can give us images of possible futures and, thus, a strategic planning framework. Scenarios are used in a variety of contexts in our daily lives. The simplest scenario is an “if-then” type exploration of possible futures (e.g., “if the blizzard ceases, then we can get on the ice for some measurements”). At a higher level of sophistication, we use scenarios to prepare for (usually) worst-case incidents. For example,

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each fire drill is a worst-case scenario played out to prepare for the actual event. The above examples display a single-event planning strategy, which is just fine for a small disaster drill or for daydreaming. However, scenarios, properly developed and used, can be a much more powerful tool in situations where the decision-making process is marred by numerous uncertainties. Here scenarios are images of plausible futures, intended to give the decision-maker a strategy-planning framework. Unlike forecasts, scenarios are never intended to draw an accurate picture of the future, but to allow for nonlinear developments and diversity where a forecast’s uncertainty prohibits sound strategy planning. Thus scenario planning provides a framework for what if-ing that stresses the importance of multiple views of the future in exchanging information about uncertainty among parties to a decision (Lempert et al. 2003). This process of what if-ing should be oriented on plausible developments. However, “outside the box thinking” is necessary to prepare decision-makers for the possibility of nonlinear and otherwise surprising developments. Only by doing so will decision-makers be able to develop flexible strategies. Scenarios can be developed at any level of resolution. That is, one can develop coarse-grained global scenarios all the way to fine-grained specific scenarios. Coarsegrained scenarios encompass large systems, such as the key elements of the global economy, or scenarios reaching far (more than twenty years) into the future. Finegrained scenarios can be detailed but hence will be limited to small systems (e.g., spatial) scales or short-term scenarios (e.g., three to five years in the future). The general approach in scenario management is to provide three to five scenarios tailored to the field in question. Usually some global keystones of development, such as economic growth, are included in such a study. However, one can build multileveled scenarios, that is, develop a global scenario framework and incorporate more specific scenarios into it. This approach is especially useful if one plans to develop specific scenarios for different fields as these will still all exist in the same global setting. This works, as long as a specific field is not likely to strongly influence global development. For example, if one were to develop specific scenarios for a regionally confined ecosystem, then this ecosystem’s development will strongly depend on the development of the global climate, but not vice versa. On the other hand, if one were to develop scenarios for the Arctic, including a militarization of the region, then there could be strong interaction and feedback with a seemingly coarser factor such as global economic growth. Time frames for scenarios vary. However, in a futures studies setting, scenarios for fewer than five years into the future are rare. There are several reasons for this: (1) for shorter time spans, uncertainties in forecasts are often manageable; (2) in a corporate setting, short-term (i.e., up to three years) planning is usually dictated by the financial plan. On the other end of the spectrum, scenario time frames are

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theoretically open ended. However, it is questionable how useful a set of scenarios with a long time frame is, as the amount of disruptive and unanticipated events in the actual development will increase with the length of the time span considered. Aforementioned disruptive and unanticipated events are a common problem both in forecasting and scenario building. However, they are intrinsic to the way the future unfolds. One possible way to sharpen the eye of decision-makers to such events is to include Wild Cards (Steinmüller and Steinmüller 2004) into scenarios. Wild Cards are low probability, high impact events that can radically change the future development. In a global setting a Wild Card could be, for example, a war over resources in the Arctic. At the corporate level this could be the discovery of a different use for a specific product, catapulting it from niche to mass-market. Clearly, while one can try to incorporate plausible Wild Cards into a set of scenarios, it is the implausible and “unforeseeable” events that make this practice necessary in the first place. Thus, it is important to point out to the scenario user to only take given Wild Cards as examples of a broader problem requiring flexibility in strategy development. While one scenario itself will describe a possible future, a set of scenarios spans a space of possible futures. The actual future might be a hybrid between two or more scenarios. Thus it is important that the scenario writer, as well as the scenario user, think of and search for early indicators that will help identify which of the scenarios the actual development is headed toward. Only by doing so can strategies be revised and, if necessary, changed as an early indicator suggests a change in direction of the current development toward a different scenario. An example of an early indicator in Scenarios for Arctic Maritime Transportation by 2030 (MuellerStoffels and Eicken 2009) is the announcement by the Russian government to deploy an “Arctic Force.” This could indicate a further tensioning in relations of the Arctic’s littoral states, favoring the worst-case scenario. Scenarios as a strategy-planning framework can be further classified into normative and explorative scenarios. This distinction is related to the method employed in arriving at a set of scenarios. Normative scenarios are written by an informed author, for example, a person who is likely to be able to anticipate possible future developments in the field in question from experience, sometimes in conjunction with a futurist and after a brainstorming workshop with colleagues. Explorative scenarios are based on extensive research into the field in question, an analysis of interactions between the main drivers of development in this field and a model, usually software aided, of how to weigh such interactions. The aim here is to reduce the bias that individuals, especially experts in a field, bring to the process. This can be achieved by studying interactions one by one, while setting the view of the greater picture aside. The amount of different explorative methods is vast, and describing them all is well beyond the scope of this short overview. The interested reader may

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consult J. C. Glenn and T. J. Gordon’s book Futures Research Methodology Version 3.0 (Glenn and Gordon 2009), which gives the most comprehensive overview about futures studies methods publicly available. In the following, we will only discuss explorative scenario methods. In the section on projections and uncertainties, the global climate model projections will be based on greenhouse gas scenarios developed by exploratory scenario methods (IPCC 2001a). The key to a successful explorative scenario process is a well-defined research question, which will include a time frame (how far into the future), the level of resolution, the specific field in question, and the intended use of the scenarios. The clear definition of this research question is crucial as the next step is extensive research into the key factors driving and defining the field under investigation.1 If a research question is vague or changed at a later point, much time can be wasted on researching irrelevant key factors or going too far into detail on less significant factors. Often the key factors are determined in a workshop of experts of the various aspects of the field in question and significant stakeholders, guided by a futurist. Here the goal of the futurist is to stimulate the group of experts and stakeholders to discuss what, in their opinion, are the important key factors, and to articulate their reasoning. The product of such a workshop should be a list of key factors ranked by the group by their perceived importance. Depending on the intended project size, and the desired resolution, the top ten to thirty-five key factors (more are possible but result in large amounts of data) are then intensively researched. The two questions here are (1) How does the key factor relate to the field? and (2) What are its possible future projections, that is, in which direction could it evolve? For example, in scenarios for the Arctic the “Extent of summer sea ice” is likely to be a key factor, with future projections “higher extent,” “constant extent,” “low extent,” and “no sea ice,” or many others depending on scope, region, and time frame. The point is to arrive at well-defined key factors and future projections. While the overarching goal for all explorative scenario methods is to generate scenarios that are self-consistent and more or less plausible, a multitude of methods exists. Each has strengths and weaknesses (Glenn and Gordon 2009). One such method is the Consistency and Robustness analysis (Gausemeier et al. 1996; Mueller-Stoffels et al. 2009). In this analysis, key factors driving the development of the field under consideration are identified. Each key factor is assigned several future projections (i.e., ways in which it could develop in the future). Each future projection is assigned a plausibility value. In general, any combination of future projections of the different key factors represents a possible future. However, some of these possible futures contain future projections that are inconsistent with each other. To rule out such inconsistencies, each future projection of a key factor has to be compared with all future projections of the other key factors and their pair-wise

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consistency determined. From the resulting matrix, consistent future projection bundles (raw scenarios) can be calculated. Furthermore, the respective plausibilities of the future projections contained in a raw scenario are combined into a cumulative plausibility. And a raw scenario is said to be robust if it has both a high consistency value and a high plausibility. Raw scenarios with inconsistencies are rejected. For example, “Creation of wealth with low interference” in the Arctic’s Native peoples’ lifestyles is completely inconsistent with an “Armed conflict” in the region. Thus a scenario containing both these key factors is inconsistent and implausible and would thus be discarded. From the usually large set of raw scenarios, the futurist selects three to five for the final scenario writing. These raw scenarios should be as diverse as possible to give a broad range of final scenarios. A well-written scenario will be a concise description of a possible future. It is not useful to give drawn-out descriptions of the state of affairs in this future because scenarios are meant to stimulate the reader to think about the possible future himself or herself. Thus it is best to leave space for the reader to fill in the blanks. If Wild Cards are included in the scenario process, some consideration should be given to the robustness of the scenario under the occurrence of a Wild Card. For example, a scenario stating that the arctic region is managed under a unilateral treaty system would break down under the occurrence of the Wild Card “War over resources in the arctic region.”

Why Use Scenarios to Plan for the Future and Not the Best Possible and Available Forecast? While reliable forecasting is more desirable than scenarios, it usually is unavailable on a holistic scale. Furthermore, divergence between different models is a problem, and it often cannot be determined objectively which of two diverging models is better. In the following section, we address this issue with climate models. These problems can be overcome by using a scenario process that incorporates forecasting results for subsystems. This means model divergence can actually become a useful tool because the results from two or more diverging models just mean different future projections to a key factor. For example, predictions of sea ice extent in the arctic basin for this century range from “no more summer sea ice in twenty years” to “unchanged ice extent.” Thus the different forecasts, all results of scientific modeling, can be used as future projections of the key factor “Summer sea ice extent” and one can apply plausibility values related to the confidence/uncertainty given by the respective modelers or reviews by the community. Such a practice will ensure that scenarios are built on reliable, scientifically sound knowledge of subsystems (fine graining), while possible developments of the big picture are made available (coarse graining). Decision-makers will thus be given a useful planning tool, which

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…25

can be refined as more reliable forecasts become available. Explorative scenarios and forecasting do not contradict each other but are supplemental parts integral to supplying decision-makers with a reliable basis for strategic planning. Explorative scenarios are a relatively inexpensive way to incorporate forecasts for subsystems into a holistic overview of the complete system. They are meant to stimulate thinking about the future and enhance strategic planning capabilities. Furthermore, an open scenario process that includes many stakeholders can be useful in sparking discussions about shaping a future that is desirable to all, thus allowing the implementation of joint efforts of stakeholders to arrive at such a future. Our knowledge of the “real world” is incomplete, and thus any forecast carries uncertainties. Such uncertainties are intrinsic in the way our description of the world works. However, uncertainties are problematic to the process of strategic planning. Supplying decision-makers with a set of scenarios based on divergent, but plausible, forecasts enhances the ability for sound strategic planning under uncertain circumstances. Such scenarios can and should be refined and strategies adjusted as better forecasts become available. In the following sections, we address the uncertainties inherent in two components of the strategic planning enterprise. First, we highlight uncertainties in the global climate model projections. Second, we examine uncertainties in integrated assessment models that are driven by climate and other factors.

Projections and Uncertainties: The Climate Model Example Global climate models are the most widely used tools for projections of climate change over the time scale of a century. These models are mathematical representations of the physical and dynamical principles that govern the behavior of the atmosphere, ocean, sea ice, and land surface (Washington and Parkinson 2005). These models are essentially the same formulations used in numerical weather predictions, although the starting point of the forecast is less critical for simulations of climate than for weather forecasts. While these models are the best tools available for predictions of climate over time scales of decades to centuries, their predictions are far from perfect, so their predictions are highly uncertain. The reason for the uncertainty is the subject of this chapter; examples of the consequences of the uncertainties are presented in the next chapter and throughout the book. There are three main sources of uncertainty in the use of global climate models (GCMs) for climate projections: natural variability (the chaotic component of climate), the range of possible future greenhouse gas emissions scenarios, and differences among the models’ formulations. First, it is known that if climate models are run several times with slightly different starting conditions, the different

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predictions will have different timing of events, even though the underlying statistical character (mean, variance, etc.) of the “model climate” tends to be similar for each run. Figure 1.3.1 illustrates this behavior in terms of the Arctic’s area-averaged temperature simulated by a set of climate models over the twentieth century; the figure also shows the corresponding curve for the actual climate of the twentieth century. While many models capture the statistics of temporal variability with reasonable fidelity, the timing of the warm and cool periods clearly differs among models. This variability is a feature of the climate system, and users of climate projections must recognize its importance. As noted in the first section, it arises from the tendency for small differences in initial conditions to grow over time through various scales of atmospheric instabilities, and it is closely related to the limits (two to three weeks) on deterministic predictability of day-to-day weather. Such behavior has received considerable attention under the umbrella of “chaos” in the atmospheric circulation. This type of uncertainty can affect yearly, decadal, or even longer means, so it is highly relevant to the use of model-derived climate projections. To reduce this uncertainty, one may average the projections over decades or, preferably, form averages from a set (ensemble) of at least several model runs. Such a procedure can help separate the anthropogenic contribution to climate change

Figure 1.3.1. Arctic surface air temperatures averaged over 60–90°N as simulated by different climate models (thin colored lines). Model output is from the Coupled Model Intercomparison Project, CMIP3. The solid black line shows observed values. All time series are five-year running means. From Wang et al. (2007).

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…27

from the natural variability. However, averaging of model simulations tends to reduce the extremes that are present in any individual simulation. Loss of the extremes is undesirable if one is interested in the possible changes in the exceedence of thresholds or the occurrence of extreme states, which can result from a trend due to external (e.g., anthropogenic) effects combined with an episodic event due to natural climate variability. While a single model simulation has a chance to capture the statistics of extreme events, a drawback from considering only a single model run rather than an average of several model runs is that the natural variability component obscures the influence of anthropogenically caused changes such as greenhouse warming. In short, it is important to recognize the lack of predictability in the timing of variations, ranging from extreme weather events to decadal anomalies, in climate model simulations, while at the same time realizing that these variations may be superimposed on a slower long-term trend.

Figure 1.3.2. Arctic (60–90°N) surface air temperatures simulated by IPCC AR4 climate models for the twentieth century with historical greenhouse gas and aerosol concentrations (black symbols) and the twentyfirst century based three greenhouse scenarios: A2 (red), A1B (green), and B1 (blue). Different models are distinguished by letters (from Walsh and Chapman 2007).

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A second source of uncertainty arises from the range in plausible emissions scenarios. Greenhouse gas emission and concentration scenarios are developed based on assumptions for future greenhouse technologies, economic activity, and societal responses (IPCC 2001a). These scenarios were obtained through the exploratory scenario method. They are used to drive the Atmosphere-Ocean General Circulation Models by specifying future greenhouse gas and aerosol concentrations in the models. An example is the use of several scenarios of anthropogenic forcing (greenhouse gases, aerosols) in the most recent Climate Model Intercomparison Project (CMIP3) and summarized in the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC 2007). Most of the CMIP3 models have made projections under the emissions scenarios denoted as A2 (rapid increases in greenhouse gases), A1B (moderate increases), and B1 (slower increases). Because greenhouse gas concentrations in the emission scenarios differ by only small amounts through 2050, climate projections are relatively insensitive to the precise details of which future emissions scenarios are used over the next few decades. For the second half of the twenty-first century, however, and especially by 2100, the choice of the emission scenario becomes a major source of uncertainty of climate projections (IPCC 2007), as shown in Figure 1.3.2. When 2010–2050 is the time frame of interest, future climate assessments often use a single middle range anthropogenic emission increase scenario, the SRES A1B or A1B, and A2 together to increase the number of potential future states. Their CO2 trajectories are similar before 2050 and nearly identical through 2020, which is the focus of this book. The third source of uncertainty in climate model simulations arises from differences in model formulations, referred to here as “across-model” differences. Complex processes, especially those occurring at scales smaller than a model’s spatial resolution, are generally represented using a few simple parameters that are adjusted or “tuned” to fit observational data. This approach is called “parameterization.” For example, fractional cloud coverage over a 200 x 200 kilometer area can be made a function of the average relative humidity over the 200 x 200 kilometer area; sea ice drift can be made proportional to the wind speed. The proportionality factors can be considered the tunable parameters in these cases. The selection of processes to be parameterized and the tuning of the parameters are at least somewhat subjective, and the various modeling centers have made different choices. Composites (arithmetic means) of simulations by different models average out many of the across-model differences, and they also average out much of the natural variability that manifests itself in different regions and time periods of individual model simulations. Figure 1.3.3 illustrates the dilemma faced by users of climate models. The top three panels show the simulated winter temperature changes for 1951–2000 from

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…29

three different models, all of the same vintage (early–mid-2000s). All models were run with the same historical values of greenhouse gas and aerosol concentrations for 1951–2000. The differences in simulated temperature changes are large, especially on a regional basis. Over Alaska, for example, two models show cooling while one model shows strong warming during the fifty-year period. The large differences arise from a combination of natural variability and the across-model differences, which are responsible for the first and third types of uncertainties discussed above. However, when the IPCC model simulations of this period are composited (averaged), the pattern of change is a more coherent pattern of modest warming, as shown in the lower right panel of Figure 1.3.3. In fact, the composite (all-model mean) change of the annual mean temperature simulated by the models shows good agreement with the corresponding observed pattern, as shown in Figure 1.3.4. Both patterns exhibit the polar increase of warming that is known to be a characteristic of greenhouse-driven climate change (Serreze and Francis 2006). The compositing has effectively removed much of the uncertainty due to natural variability and the across-model differences.

Figure 1.3.3. Patterns of winter temperature changes (°C) simulated by three individual models (upper), and the corresponding mean pattern of fifteen different models (lower right). All models are from the suite used in the IPCC Fourth Assessment Report.

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When expected values of future changes are based on averages of model simulations, how many models should be included in the average? On the one hand, it is apparent that the number of models should exceed one because of natural variability. On the other hand, some models perform sufficiently poorly that they may be regarded as outliers. To the extent that outliers degrade an average, they should be excluded. Preliminary experiments with varying numbers of the models used in composites indicate that an optimal fraction of models for inclusion is about half of the available models (Walsh 2008). This finding is based on the recent set of IPCC model simulations, but it seems to be relatively insensitive to the choice of variable (temperature, precipitation, pressure) and to the choice of the region or its size (Alaska, Greenland, or the broader Northern Hemisphere). Given that (1) individual models show some success at capturing the magnitude but not the timing of natural variations (Fig. 1.3.1) and (2) averages of model simulations capture the broad spatial patterns of change over multi-decadal periods (Fig. 1.3.4), how should one make use of climate models in optimizing scenarios for the future? It is apparent that single simulations by individual models offer the best hope for capturing the statistics of the variability that characterizes the real atmosphere. Natural variability of future climates may be estimated from simulations by models that best capture historical variability, but the projections from

Figure 1.3.4. Changes in annual mean temperature over the fifty-year period 1957–2006, as (a) observed and (b) simulated. (b) is a composite of IPCC model simulations.

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these models must be cast in terms of probabilities obtained from the natural variations. For instance, one may use time series of model output to answer the question: What is the likelihood that a particular N-year period in the future will be warmer than the N-year period immediately preceding it? For N=1, the probability will be close to 50%, while for large N (~fifty), the probability will be high—mostly greater than 90%. On the other hand, best estimates of future changes, expressed as expected values of changes from the present, should be based on averages over at least several models (e.g., the top half of the models based on past-performance metrics suitable to the application or need). The latter approach minimizes the effects of uncertainties due to natural variability and across-model differences, while the use of probabilities of N-year changes offers a way to include in future projections the uncertainties due to natural variability. For projections spanning the next half century or less, the choice of a greenhouse forcing scenario is not a major consideration, as noted above. Projections for this range can be based on a single scenario and presented in terms of the ranges spanned by natural variability and across-model differences, after eliminating the models that perform more poorly for the desired application. However, beyond the next fifty years, the projections should be presented in terms of ranges encompassing these same two sources of uncertainty as well as uncertainties arising from scenarios of future greenhouse concentrations.

Integrated Assessment Models and Their Uncertainties We now move into the realm of integrated assessments, for which greenhouse scenarios and climate model projections are augmented by many other considerations that will shape the course and effects of future environmental change. This section discusses (1) the definition of an integrated assessment model, (2) how uncertainty about future system conditions influences these linked models, (3) how scientists are communicating a wide range of predictions to stakeholders who need to make decisions now, and (4) research frontiers in integrated assessment modeling given compounded uncertainty.

Defining Integrated Assessment Models (IAMs) The IPCC defines integrated assessment modeling as “an interdisciplinary process of combining, interpreting, and communicating knowledge from diverse scientific disciplines in such a way that the whole set of cause-effect interactions of a problem can be evaluated” (IPCC 2001b). This basic definition suggests that there are a number of reasons why IAM modeling is important, especially when attempting to

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model the likelihood of future outcomes. First, combining knowledge from diverse disciplines can help researchers, funding agencies, and stakeholders perform sensitivity analyses of an entire system to determine which components of the model have the greatest influence over the outcomes being evaluated. Second, IAMs force individual researchers (and their respective institutions) to think carefully about how their models may be used by other researchers or stakeholders trained in other natural or social science fields. Finally, IAMs give interdisciplinary scientists the ability to rank the factors that may be contributing the most to the statistical uncertainty of the entire system being evaluated. However, Schneider (1997) notes that if communication of IAM assumptions and results is poor, then IAMs can do more harm than good when attempting to implement “rational” policies. Modeling chaotic systems—including arctic change and the societal responses to it—compounds each individual model’s known and unknown errors and biases, producing predictions inherent with structural and other forms of statistical uncertainty.

Compounded Uncertainty and IAMs All integrated assessment models that make projections about future conditions exhibit some level of compounded statistical uncertainty. Schneider (1983) refers to this phenomenon as the “cascading pyramid of uncertainties.” Compounding statistical uncertainty occurs when multiple modules of an IAM each have their own biases and errors with the total uncertainty of the system being modeled represented by the aggregation of all measurement errors, modeling biases, range of scenarios, etc. For example, consider an attempt to assess the economic impacts of climate change on infrastructure in areas of permafrost. As shown in the preceding section, global climate models typically produce mean (or average) projections for a number of important variables, including temperature. These models are run over and over with different assumptions about the future (i.e., scenarios, etc.) and, in addition to average values, a range of possible values is produced by the modeling groups. Next, natural scientists interested in the impact of temperature on permafrost use global (or regional) climate model results and then make their own models—with their own formulations, simplifications, and parameters, along with biases and unknown errors—to predict permafrost response to future temperature. Finally, economists and engineers build their own assumption-laden models using results from the permafrost scientists. The result is a linked system of models displaying a wide range of results. The range of results (or statistical uncertainty of the entire system) is not normally distributed around the projected average value (i.e., the probability distributions have “fat tails”). Fat-tailed statistical distributions can be used to estimate a plausible range of impacts, assuming that the likelihood of extreme events is increasing at a given location. In summary, there is coupled,

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…33

structural statistical uncertainty about the impacts of the concentration of greenhouse gases on the global climate (i.e., results of Atmosphere-Ocean GCMs), the Arctic’s climate in particular (downscaled results), as well as assumptions made about future engineering or economic conditions (e.g., how to discount future impacts back to the present).

Discounting Future Risk to the Present: The Role of Uncertainty Socioeconomic researchers often make assumptions about how to discount future economic impacts back to the present so that policymakers can make rational decisions now about how to allocate resources. The appropriate choice of a discount rate, which is often a subjective decision made by the researcher (or a group of stakeholders), has important implications in the impacts calculation. The discount rate is the difference between a benefit (cost) received (expended) at a future time rather than today. A small change in the assumed discount rate can change the results by millions or even billions of dollars depending on the context of the problem being studied. Although the discount rate is one important assumption made by socio-economists, it may not be the most important issue to focus on. Weitzman (2008) notes that the statistical influence of structural uncertainty coupled with a lack of information about high-temperature impacts (e.g., damage to infrastructure) from climate change can potentially outweigh the statistical influence of the discount rate used when conducting an analysis of future economic risk. Weitzman’s research suggests that reducing uncertainty about impacts may be more important than the discount rate scenario used to discount future risk back to the present. This assumes that interdisciplinary scientists are transparently communicating their results, assumptions, and uncertainties to policymakers and other stakeholders.

Communicating Integrated Assessment Model Uncertainty to Inform Policy Schneider (1997), Schneider and Lane (2005), and many others continue to stress the importance of integrated assessment modelers working with stakeholders to transparently communicate their scenarios, methods, and results. Schneider and Lane (2005:66) eloquently note: When speaking to policy makers and citizens, scientists must make it evident that any quantitative answers generated by IAMs are not to be taken literally, but should be used more as tools to generate insights into the decision-making process; they are not “truth machines,” but general guideposts. Scientists must open

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and conclude their presentations to policy makers and laypeople on IAM results with clear, concise statements about assumptions and uncertainties, and should avoid overloading a presentation with numerical data, keeping in mind that communicating with decision makers and the public requires very different skills and language than communicating with scientific colleagues. It will be necessary for scientists to find the appropriate balance between transparency and completeness. Furthermore, Mastrandrea and Schneider (2004:571) note that using probability distributions to communicate statistical uncertainty is a valuable tool when communicating scenarios to policymakers and other stakeholders: Without explicit efforts to quantify the likelihood of future events, users of scientific results (including policymakers) will undoubtedly make their own assumptions about the probability of different outcomes, possibly in ways that the original authors did not intend.╯.╯.╯.╯We believe that such probabilistic methods are more valuable for communicating an accurate view of current scientific knowledge to those seeking information for decision making than assessments that do not attempt to present results in probabilistic frameworks. Larsen et al. (2008) attempted to strike this balance between transparency and completeness when they reported risk to Alaska’s infrastructure from projected climate change. The authors described a scenario they created for their integrated assessment model (see Table 1.3.1) and then produced results showing two forms of uncertainty. Figure 1.3.5 shows the projected range of additional public infrastructure costs for Alaska due to climate change from Larsen et al. (2008). Two different types of uncertainty are displayed in this figure. First, three different climate models are shown (i.e., “warm,” “warmer,” and “warmest”). Second, each climate model has a distribution of economic impacts based on the historical record of year-to-year natural climate variability around the climate model’s mean projection. Note that this depiction incorporates two of the three sources of uncertainty addressed in the previous section (natural variability and across-model variance) but not across-scenario variance because of the near-term time horizon.

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…35 Table 1.3.1. Example of an Integrated Assessment Modeling Scenario (Larsen et al. 2008). Model Component

Assumption

Functional Form:

Probabilistic Lifecycle Analysis

Discount Rate:

2.85%/year (real)

Base Year:

2006

Projected Years:

2030, 2080

Public Infrastructure Count:

15,665 Pieces

Public Infrastructure Value:

$39.4 Billion ($2006)

Infrastructure Base Costs (per unit):

See Larsen et al. (2008)

Infrastructure Useful Life by Type:

See Larsen et al. (2008)

Depreciation Matrix Version:

January 31, 2007

Climate Projection Regions:

5.6ºx5.6º Grid Box Centered at Anchorage, Barrow, Bethel, Juneau, Fairbanks, and Nome

IPCC SRES Scenario:

A1B

Preferred Climate Models:

CSIRO-Mk3.0 (Australia), MIROC3.2.(HIRES) (Japan), and NOAA.GFDL-CM2.0 (US)

Climate Model Base Years:

1980–1999

Observed Climate Variability Data Source:

University of Alaska Fairbanks Geophysical Institute

Distribution Shape for Observed Regional Climate:

Gaussian

Extreme Climate Events Probability:

Less than 1st Percentile, Greater than 99th Percentile (for observed range of climate)

Extreme Climate Events Scalar:

+10% Increase in Impact to Useful Life

Natural Variability Forward in Time:

Static at Observed Regional Annual Variances

Trans-Alaska Pipeline Included in Results:

No

Event-based Adaptation:

Yes

Infrastructure Growth Forward in Time:

Static at 2006 Count (i.e., 15,653)

Permafrost State Forward in Time:

Static at 1965 Location (USGS)

Impacts from Changes in Relative Sea Level:

Implicit, but not locally projected

Software System:

SAS 9.1 TS Level 1M3, XP_PRO Platform

Hardware System:

Dell Dimension 8300 (Intel Pentium 3.06 GHz; 500 GB Hard Drive)

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Figure 1.3.5. Example of Communicating Multiple Forms of Uncertainty with an IAM.

Figure 1.3.6. Example of projection of high-resolution temperature changes with greenhouse scenario explicitly noted.

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The aforementioned example is just one method that has been recently employed in the context of the Arctic. It is clear that new research frontiers are being explored in an effort to transparently communicate uncertainty as well as assumptions about future scenarios.2

Frontiers in Uncertainty Research The Scenarios Network for Alaska Planning (SNAP) project at the University of Alaska (http://www.snap.uaf.edu/) has produced high-resolution maps depicting projected temperature changes in Alaska by mid-century with user-friendly symbols communicating the underlying scenarios and resolution produced during the climate model downscaling (see Fig. 1.3.6). 3

Figure 1.3.7. Example of the communication of high-resolution across-model statistical uncertainty.

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Conclusion The preceding sections point to the emerging trend toward the conveyance of information on scenarios and projections in a probabilistic framework. While some uncertainties, such as those associated with model parameters and with sensitivities of impacts to environmental variables, are likely to be reduced in the foreseeable future, other uncertainties are unlikely to be reduced. Among the latter are natural variations of future climate over multiyear to decadal time scales. Optimizing the use of information on scenarios and projections in the face of these uncertainties is a fundamental challenge for planners and decision-makers. The following chapters provide examples of the diverse strategies and needs of various sectors as they confront a future of change.

Acknowledgments The authors thank Marcus Geist of the Nature Conservatory–Alaska and William Chapman of the University of Illinois for the maps and other figures illustrating the projections. This work was supported in part by the National Science Foundation’s Office of Polar Programs through Grant ARC-0652838.

References Gausemeier, J., A. Fink, and O. Schlake. 1996. Szenario-Management: Planen und Führen mit Szenarien (English: Scenario management: planning and leading with scenarios), 2nd Ed., Munich, Germany: Hanser Verlag. Glenn, J. C., and T. J. Gordon. 2009. Futures research methodology version 3.0. Washington DC: The Millennium Project. IPCC. 2001a. Special report on emission scenarios. Working group III of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IPCC. 2001b. Mitigation—Contribution of working group III to the Third Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Edited by B. Metz, O. Davidson, R. Swart, and J. Pan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IPCC. 2007. The physical basis of climate change. Working group I, fourth assessment report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Larsen, P. H., S. Goldsmith, O. Smith, M. L. Wilson, K. Strzepek, P. Chinowsky, and B. Saylor. 2008. Estimating future costs for Alaska public infrastructure at risk from climate change. Global Environmental Change 18, 442–457.

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Lempert, R. J., S. W. Popper, and S. C. Bankes. 2003. Shaping the next one hundred years: New methods for quantitative, long-term policy analysis. Santa Monica, CA: RAND. Mastrandrea, M. D., and S. H. Schneider. 2004. Probabilistic integrated assessment of “dangerous” climate change. Science 304, 571–575. Mueller-Stoffels, M., and H. Eicken. 2009. Futures of arctic marine transportation 2030. Paper presented at the State of the Arctic Conference, Miami, 2010. Mueller-Stoffels, M., E. Gauger, and K. Steinmüller. 2009. Explorative scenarios using consistency and robustness analysis and Wild Cards. To be published in Conference proceedings for Lessons from Continuity and Change in the Fourth International Polar Year, March 4–9, 2009, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks. Schneider, S. H. 1983. CO2 , climate and society: A brief overview. In Social science research and climatic change: An interdisciplinary appraisal. Edited by R. Chen, E. Boulding, and S. H. Schneider. Dordrecht, The Netherlands: D. Reidel Publishing. Schneider, S. H. 1997. Integrated assessment modeling of global climate change: Transparent rational tool for policy making or opaque screen hiding value-laden assumptions? Environmental Modeling and Assessment 2(4), 229–248. Schneider, S. H., and J. Lane. 2005. Integrated assessment modeling of global climate change: Much has been learned—still a long and bumpy road ahead. The Integrated Assessment Journal 5(1), 41–75. Schneider, S. H., and M. D. Mastrandrea. 2005. Probabilistic assessment of “dangerous” climate change and emissions pathways. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 102, 15728–15735. Retrieved from http://www.pnas.org/cgi/reprint/ 0506356102v1. Serreze, M., and J. Francis. 2006. The Arctic amplification debate. Climate Change 76, 241–264. Steinmüller, A., and K. Steinmüller. 2004. Wild Cards. Wenn das Unwahrscheinliche eintritt (English: Wild Cards. When the improbable happens), 2nd Ed. Hamburg, Germany: Murmann Verlag. USARC. 2010. Scaling studies in arctic system science and policy support. Edited by C. Vorosmarty, D. McGuire, and J. Hobbie. Arlington, VA: United States Arctic Research Commission. Walsh, J. E. 2008. Simulations of present Arctic climate and future regional projections. Proceedings, Ninth International Conference on Permafrost, International Permafrost Association, 146–150. Walsh, J. E., and W. L. Chapman. 2007. Simulations of Arctic temperature and pressure by global coupled models. Journal of Climate 20, 609–632. Wang, M., J. E. Overland, V. M. Kattsov, J. E. Walsh, X. Zhang, and T. Pavlova. 2007. Intrinsic versus forced variations in coupled climate model simulations over the Arctic during the 20th century. Journal of Climate 20, 1093–1107. Washington, W. M., and C. L. Parkinson. 2005. An introduction to three-dimensional climate modeling, 2nd Ed. University Science Books.

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Weitzman, M. 2008. On modeling and interpreting the economics of catastrophic climate change. Department Working Paper, Harvard University Economics, February.

Endnotes 1 2

3

The nomenclature in futures studies is unfortunately quite muddled. We will stick to the terms used in describing the Robustness/Consistency analysis (Gausemeier et al. 1996; Mueller-Stoffels et al. 2009), as this is the example method later used. For example, the United States Arctic Research Commission—in their 2010 call for research—first reported that an unpublished analysis by researchers involved in the Larsen et al. (2008) study found that a number of unknown factors may have contributed to a systematic underestimate of both the dollar amount of infrastructure at risk and the statistical uncertainty of their original results (USARC 2010). These maps were intentionally produced using degrees Fahrenheit because policymakers/stakeholders in the United States typically understand this temperature metric better than Celsius. This simple conversion issue is an excellent example of a communication disconnect between natural science and applied policymaking.

1.4

Contextualizing Alaska’s Climate Change from Global to Local Scales: The Boreal Forest, People, and Wildfire by f. stuart chapin iii and amy lauren lovecraft

T

he previous chapter’s discussion of the tools science uses to determine patterns and how scientists account for uncertainties as they provide data for decision making dovetails nicely with our chapter’s focus on observed changes in the boreal social-ecological systems of Alaska. As Walsh and co-authors wrestle with how to optimize scenarios for future decision making (Chapter 1.3), changes in the northern wildfire fire regime present evidence of current shifts in a suite of coupled human–environmental interactive relationships. This chapter presents a snapshot demonstrating how dynamic and complex these relationships among people, forests, weather patterns, and fire can be. It also explains how unintended consequences and human innovation can arise in light of feedbacks across scales of activity. Alaska’s boreal forests are part of a discontinuous ring of boreal forest locations around the circumpolar North. They are only one of many landscapes on earth that are wildfire-dependent; their ecosystems have become fire-adaptive, and they depend on fires for their productivity (Chapin et al. 2006). Our brief review of the impact of fire on the landscape in relation to people is meant to place Alaska’s changing climate in a global context, demonstrate the cross-scale effects that climate change is producing in social-ecological systems, and give insight into how social-ecological thinking can highlight linkages between problem and solution sets.

Global Processes in a State of Flux

Human actions are having large and accelerating effects on Earth’s climate, environment, and ecosystems. During the last fifty years, for example, human activities 41

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have changed ecosystems more rapidly and extensively than during any comparable period of human history (Steffen et al. 2004) (Fig. 1.4.1). The Earth’s climate is now warmer than at any time in the last 500 (and probably the last 1,300) years (IPCC 2007), in large part because of atmospheric accumulation of carbon dioxide released by the burning of fossil fuels. Agricultural development accounts for much of the remaining forcing of climatic change (IPCC 2007). If all fossil fuel emissions ceased instantly today, the excess fossil-fuel CO2 in the atmosphere (about 35% higher than the “natural” background) would decline by 50% within thirty years and another 20% within a few centuries, but the remaining excess CO2 would stay in the atmosphere for thousands of years. This will create, from the perspective of human lifetimes, a permanently warmer world. Fossil fuel emissions have increased more rapidly over the last thirty years than most scientists had projected (IPCC 2007), and the land and oceans have become weaker sinks for the CO2 that has accumulated in the atmosphere. The question of how much warmer the world will become depends on the rate at which fossil fuel and other trace gas emissions are curtailed. Climate change involves more than temperature. Warmer temperatures increase the rate of evaporation of water, which accelerates the global hydrologic cycle. Patterns of hydrologic change are more complex than those of temperature, but, in general, wet areas are expected to become wetter, dry areas will become drier, and extreme events—both droughts and floods—will increase in intensity (IPCC 2007). In addition, increased human mobility is spreading plants, animals, diseases, industrial products, and cultural perspectives across the globe more rapidly than ever before. This increase in global mobility, coupled with increased connectivity through global markets and new forms of communication, links the world’s economies and cultures, so decisions in one place often have international consequences. At the same time, new technologies and improved communication also open new opportunities for adaptation strategies to be shared (NRC 2010).

The Regional Scale of Alaska’s Climatic and Ecological Changes The warming that has occurred globally is amplified at high latitudes (IPCC 2007), so Alaska, and the Arctic generally, is warming twice as rapidly as the global average (IPCC 2007) (Figs. 1.4.2, 1.4.3). Mean annual air temperature in Interior Alaska increased by 1.3°C during the past fifty years (Shulski and Wendler 2007) and is projected by downscaled climate models to increase by an additional 3–7°C by the end of the twenty-first century (Walsh et al. 2008) (http://www.snap.uaf.edu).

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…43

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44â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

Temperature is increasing most rapidly in winter, which shortens the snow-covered season by about 1.5 days per decade and increases the frequency of thaws and rainstorms during winter (Chapin et al. 2005). Annual precipitation has increased by only 7 mm in the last fifty years (Hinzman et al. 2006). Its projected continued increase will likely be insufficient to offset summer evapotranspiration (http://www.snap.uaf.edu), leading to potentially drier soils, drying of wetlands, and lower lake and river levels. Fairbanks, for example, is projected to warm by about 4°C by 2050, even with an optimistic scenario of substantially reduced global fossil fuel consumption. This would produce a climate similar to the current climate of Saskatoon, Canada. The prairies that used to characterize this part of Saskatchewan now support monocultures of oilseed rape. Such a transition on the landscape and of society’s use of the landscape is dramatic. Given our ability, through scientific modeling and empirical evidence, to understand the changes across Alaska’s terrestrial and marine ecosystems, how will Alaskans respond to climatic changes of this ecologically important magnitude? Furthermore, because the circumpolar north plays a major global role, for example, in regulating climate patterns and species migrations, how will those distant from the Arctic consider these changes and their relationships to them? Because one cannot measure the responses of ecosystems to change without considering the interrelated feedbacks of society, any answer to these questions involves careful consideration of the ecological and human impacts of the changes. If viable farmland becomes possible, communities must consider the management of water, the building of roads, the security of food systems, and the potential for an influx of people and other animal and plant species to a region. This long-term planning often falls by the wayside as people face the problems in the near-term. However, by observing changes and working to predict future states, some of the worst tradeoffs of a changing landscape may be avoided. For example, in Alaska, and across the western United States more generally, it appears that long periods of fire suppression in many fire-adaptive forests have had the unintended consequences of more intense, larger, and more frequent fires burning closer to human habitation (Dennis 2003). A warming climate and the movement of people into wildland fire interfaces without considering the potential risks are contributing factors in the increased loss of life and property; this has been especially notable in locations of high population density such as southern California. The generally accepted management strategy of suppressing all fire did not anticipate these consequences. We cannot always know what our best intentions may produce, and surprises can be devastating. The rapid rate and directional nature of Alaska’s warming climate have important ecological and societal consequences. The permafrost layers in the soils are

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…45

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Figure 1.4.2. Time course (a) of the average surface temperature of Earth from 1850 to 2005 (IPCC 2007) and (b) latitudinal pattern of warming from 1961 to 2004 (Chapin et al. 2005).

46â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

Temperature anomaly (oC)

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warming. Where soil ice content is high, this causes the ground surface to subside, threatening roads and other infrastructure and altering drainage patterns in natural ecosystems—in some places converting forests to wetlands, in other places causing lakes to drain, and in still other places causing land slippage and erosion. In the Kenai Peninsula of south central Alaska, warming enabled spruce bark beetles to shorten their life cycle from two years to one and increase their overwinter survival. This radically altered the balance between the insect and its host, causing widespread insect outbreaks and forest dieback (Allen et al. 2006). Fires occur more extensively (Kasischke and Turetsky 2006) and trees are expanding into tundra at both altitudinal and latitudinal treelines (Lloyd et al. 2007). Within tundra, shrubs appear to be expanding (Sturm et al. 2005). Shrubs trap the snow that serves to insulate the ground in winter and reduce heat loss, thus sustaining microbial activity and providing more nitrogen to support yet more shrub growth. Shrubs also shade out lichens, reducing the abundance of winter food for caribou, whose diet consists primarily of lichen. The increased frequency of winter rains, which is already observed in northern Scandinavia, encases lichens in ice and reduces their availability to reindeer and caribou. This presents a poignant example of seemingly small environmental shifts, such as more shrubs and rain, having direct impact on the northern

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…47

cultures whose livelihoods are tied to reindeer husbandry or caribou hunting. For these peoples, the loss of herd vitality can result in less food, lower incomes, and hardship. In Alaska, the magnitude and spatial extent of recent changes in shrub cover and icing events are less well known, but it is clear that many dimensions of arctic and boreal ecology are changing rapidly (Chapin et al. 2006). People have inhabited Alaska for 6,000–12,000 years (Aigner 1986). In subsequent millennia, different cultural groups have settled in regions with different ecologies, Eskimos on the coast and Indians in interior and southeastern Alaska. The map of Alaskan ecosystems is virtually identical to the map of indigenous languages and associated cultures (Fig. 1.4.4) because of the close adaptation of culture to environment (Nelson 1983) and the effects of cultural practices on the land (Natcher 2004). This demonstrates the connections between human societies and their natural surroundings that form a social-ecological system and raises critical questions regarding the changing properties of Alaska’s ecosystems. If the ecology of Alaska is changing so radically with climate warming, what are the implications for the cultures that occupy these landscapes and seascapes? What are the challenges and opportunities for human adaptation and change?

Ecoregions

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Figure 1.4.4. Maps of ecosystems (left) and cultural (linguistic) groups (right) in Alaska. The close correspondence between these maps demonstrates the tight linkage between ecosystem and society. Redrawn from Gallant et al. (1996) and Krauss (1982). Reprinted from Chapin (2009).

48â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

At the Local Level: The Changing Relationship of People and Fire One example of the tight interrelatedness between social and ecological systems in Alaska is between people and wildfire. Across all scales, from local to global, changing wildfire regimes in the world’s northern boreal forests have an effect on village lives and governments, and on the landscapes in which people live. The fine-scale relationship of indigenous people with wildfire has changed radically since prehistoric times. Before extensive contact with Europeans, Athabascans, who inhabit mainly interior Alaska, lived primarily in small family bands that moved seasonally to access different resources when they were most available (Natcher 2004; Nelson 1983). When fires or post-fire succession reduced the suitability of habitat in one place, bands adjusted their seasonal migration accordingly. This enabled people to continue to access a wide range of successional habitats, although the specific locations changed over time. During the twentieth century, people were settled in permanent villages that provided compulsory education and access to many of the so-called necessities and some benefits of western life. But this radically restricted mobility on the land and therefore challenged the earlier resilience achieved through spatial adjustment to disturbance events (Chapin et al. 2008). Fires that burn close to a village change accessible habitat, and the plants and animals it provides, for decades. Without the ability to move across the landscape different settlements would experience abundance or impoverishment unexpectedly, unequally, and with little recourse to hunt or gather outside of village boundaries. Both local hunters and wildlife biologists report similar successional patterns of post-fire recovery of subsistence resources (Fig. 1.4.5), but their conclusions, in part due to settlement patterns, about implications for wildfire management are quite different (Chapin et al. 2008). Wildlife biologists recognize the importance of maintaining fire on the landscape to regenerate early successional habitat that supports animals such as moose, given the long (80–200 years) fire intervals reported for black spruce (Kasischke and Turetsky 2006). Looking at the same patterns, local hunters are concerned that opportunities to hunt for moose will not return for at least a generation or caribou for several generations (Chapin et al. 2008). These long time intervals are problematic because of the tight dependence of local economies on subsistence resources and the fundamental importance of hunting as a cultural practice that is threatened by assimilation into Euro-American culture. If a hunter cannot teach his or her children how to hunt, or if he or she cannot transmit the cultural values that are inherent in those activities, how can this subsistence-based culture survive? This intergenerational transmission of knowledge is further complicated by social, economic, and educational changes; technological changes in ways

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…49

to access the land; and loss of seasonal mobility as people settled into permanent villages in the mid-twentieth century (Chapin et al. 2008; Nelson 1983). Nonetheless, people living on the land are proud of their capacity to adapt to change, especially if they know what changes are likely to occur. Harvest of flammable fuels near communities, for example, can reduce wildfire risk, reduce the amount of diesel fuel purchased to heat public buildings, provide wage income to local villagers, and create secondary successional moose habitat close to town (Chapin et al. 2008). This strategy has been implemented in the village of Tanana and is being considered by other communities. Given that fire extent will likely continue to increase in interior Alaska, it is important to consider opportunities as well as problems. Fires bring wages to village fire crews that are important to the mixed cash–subsistence economy of rural Alaska. Firefighting can provide the money needed to purchase snowmachines, ammunition, and gas for hunting (Trainor et al. 2009). This example demonstrates how climate change is a dynamic force in the lives of northern peoples as it creates vulnerabilities, but if people have the capacity to develop adaptive strategies it need not be a monolithic threat without recourse.

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50â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

Climate change and wildfires in Alaska have social-ecological impacts that extend far beyond Alaska. There is now evidence that there are also feedbacks from the local system to global processes. A shortened snow-covered season, for example, substantially increases regional absorption of solar radiation in spring and fall by changing broad areas from white reflective to dark absorptive surfaces (Chapin et al. 2005). In addition, the carbon dioxide and methane released by wildfires add to the heat-trapping capacity of the atmosphere (IPCC 2007). Both processes act as feedbacks that amplify rates of warming throughout the planet, affecting societies everywhere (Chapin et al. 2005).

Conclusions Social-ecological systems, by their nature, are complex. Just as fire behavior can be unpredictable, so too are human behaviors. As the example of Tanana demonstrates, social capacity to adapt can prevent catastrophe and initiate innovation. For there to be adaptive planning and responses, however, society has to be able to observe, measure, and predict changes not only in its environment but also within society itself. This is part of the reason the Fourth International Polar Year’s inclusion of the study of social processes has been important to research. Prediction forewarns us and hopefully forearms us. It enables us to present to our communities the potential trade-offs of current activities on future outcomes, in many cases through scenario building. However, science does not occur in a vacuum. It is translated by teachers, scientists, politicians, community members, journalists, and others. It is inherently a human process through which we understand the world around us. Consequently, the cross-pollination of knowledge about a system, for example, between pan-Arctic science data and indigenous knowledge, will be vital in communicating information to design scenarios, deliberate alternative outcomes, and plan how to reach sustainable futures.

A Holistic Approach for a Changing Northâ•…51

References Aigner, J. S. 1986. Footprints on the land: The origins of Interior Alaska’s people. In Interior Alaska: A journey through time. Edited by J. S. Aigner, R. D. Guthrie, M. L. Guthrie, F. Nelson, W. S. Schneider, and R. M. Thorson. Anchorage: Alaska Geographic Society. Allen, J. L., S. Wesser, C. J. Markon, and K. C. Winterberger. 2006. Stand and landscape level effects of a major outbreak of spruce beetles on forest vegetation in the Copper River Basin, Alaska. Forest Ecology and Management 227, 257–266. Chapin, F. S., III. 2009. Managing ecosystems sustainably: The key role of resilience. In Principles of ecosystem stewardship: Resilience-based natural resource management in a changing world. Edited by F. S. Chapin III, G. P. Kofinas, and C. Folke. New York: Springer. Chapin, F. S., III, M. W. Oswood, K. Van Cleve, L. A. Viereck, and D. L. Verbyla (eds.). 2006. Alaska’s changing boreal forest. New York: Oxford University Press. Chapin, F. S., III, M. Sturm, M. C. Serreze, J. P. McFadden, J. R. Key, A. H. Lloyd, A. D. McGuire, T. S. Rupp, A. H. Lynch, J. P. Schimel, J. Beringer, W. L. Chapman, H. E. Epstein, E. S. Euskirchen, L. D. Hinzman, G. Jia, C.-L. Ping, K. D. Tape, C. D. C. Thompson, D. A. Walker, and J. M. Welker. 2005. Role of land-surface changes in arctic summer warming. Science 310, 657–660. Chapin, F. S., III, S. F. Trainor, O. Huntington, A. L. Lovecraft, E. Zavaleta, D. C. Natcher, A. D. McGuire, J. L. Nelson, L. Ray, M. Calef, N. L. Fresco, H. Huntington, T. S. Rupp, L. DeWilde, and R. L. Naylor. 2008. Increasing wildfire in Alaska’s boreal forest: Pathways to potential solutions of a wicked problem. Bioscience 58, 531–540. Dennis, C. 2003. Burning issues. Nature 16 January, Vol. 421, 204–206. Gallant, A. L., E. F. Binnian, J. M. Omernik, and M. B. Shasby. 1996. Ecoregions of Alaska. Washington: US Govt. Printing Office. Hinzman, L. D., L. A. Viereck, P. C. Adams, V. E. Romanovsky, and K. Yoshikawa. 2006. Climate and permafrost dynamics of the Alaskan boreal forest. In Alaska’s changing boreal forest. Edited by F. S. Chapin, III, M. W. Oswood, K. Van Cleve, L. A. Viereck, and D. L. Verbyla. New York: Oxford University Press. 39–61. Intergovernment Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). 2007. Climate change 2007: The physical science basis. Working group I contribution to the fourth assessment report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Kasischke, E. S., and M. R. Turetsky. 2006. Recent changes in the fire regime across the North American boreal region: Spatial and temporal patterns of burning across Canada and Alaska. Geophysical Research Letters 33, doi:10.1029/2006GL025677. Krauss, M. E. 1982. Native peoples and languages of Alaska (map). Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska Fairbanks.

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Lloyd, A. H., C. L. Fastie, and H. Eisen. 2007. Fire and substrate interact to control the northern range limit of black spruce (Picea mariana) in Alaska. Canadian Journal of Forest Research 37, 2480–2493. Natcher, D. C. 2004. Implications of fire policy on Native land use in the Yukon Flats, Alaska. Human Ecology 32, 421–441. Nelson, R. K. 1983. Make prayers to the raven: A Koyukan view of the northern forest. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. National Research Council (NRC). 2010. America’s climate choices. Washington DC: National Academies Press. Shulski, M., and G. Wendler. 2007. The climate of Alaska. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Steffen, W. L., A. Sanderson, P. D. Tyson, J. Jäger, P. A. Matson, B. Moore III, F. Oldfield, K. Richardson, H.-J. Schellnhuber, B. L. Turner II, and R. J. Wasson. 2004. Global change and the earth system: A planet under pressure. New York: Springer-Verlag. Sturm, M., J. Schimel, G. Michaelson, J. M. Welker, S. F. Oberbauer, G. E. Liston, J. Fahnestock, and V. E. Romanosky. 2005. Winter biological processes could help convert arctic tundra to shrubland. Bioscience 55, 17–26. Trainor, S. F., F. S. Chapin III, A. D. McGuire, M. Calef, N. Fresco, D. Natcher, P. Duffy, T. S. Rupp, L. DeWilde, O. Huntington, M. Kwart, and A. L. Lovecraft. 2009. Vulnerability and adaptation to climate-related fire impacts in rural and urban interior Alaska. Polar Research 29(1), 100–118. Walsh, J. E., W. L. Chapman, V. Romanovsky, J. H. Christensen, and M. Stendel. 2008. Global climate model performance over Alaska and Greenland. Journal of Climate 21, 6156–6174.

In section 1 walsh, mueller-stoffels, and larsen defined and explained the scientific methods used by researchers to evaluate data and make the types of predictions that generally inform discussions on adaptation to and mitigation of climate change and its impacts. Chapin and Lovecraft present an example of these impacts and human responses.

This type of scholarship, replicated across nations, has made policymakers, politicians, activists, and the general public aware of the shifts in the earth’s climate and weather systems. It represents a small portion of a much larger undertaking by societies to better understand what changes are occurring from the local to global scales and across the planet—from desertification on the African continent to coral reef bleaching in the South Pacific and to shrinking ice caps at the poles. However, the approaches outlined in the previous section operate primarily with one type of knowledge. Punctuated by Thomas Kuhn’s seminal work on “paradigm shifts” (1972), there has been a growing recognition by scholars that science itself is bound by historical forces and a human tendency to reinforce accepted assumptions, for example, in methodological approaches. The certainty of the western scientific endeavor as the only means by which people can know things, and its claims to universality and neutrality, come into question as we learn more about the complex nature of human lives and our impacts on the world (Blair 2010; Figueroa and Harding 2003). In fact, formalized western science is one of several ways to examine reality accurately and anticipate future events. Another way in which humans have gathered and disseminated vital knowledge across millennia has been through direct, lived observations that are passed down and refined through generations in an oral tradition. Such a process is not in opposition to the scientific method, but it differs, for example, in its focus on the contextual qualities of information. This form of knowledge can have different labels. The in-depth place-based information that people acquire when living in a location that helps them to navigate physical and social obstacles is generally called local knowledge. One need not live in the wilderness to acquire and test data on a daily basis that can be passed on to others. For example, information related to the fastest subway routes, the least expensive coffee shops, the nearest pharmacy, and the safest places to bicycle is valued immensely by outsiders; just consider the tourism book industry. The case in Chapter 1.4 of seasonal fire cycles presents another example. Annually, scores of firefighters from Alaska are flown to other states to assist in fire suppression, move equipment, travel distances in forests, and facilitate evacuations. They need local knowledge to supplement maps or GPS. They must obtain detailed information such as side street shortcuts, the number of people and animals at a residence, and trails through forests that can only be gained from community members whose daily lives are information storehouses. When local knowledge is directly associated with indigenous peoples, it is generally called indigenous knowledge. More narrowly, when such knowledge is tied to enduring cultural traditions related to ecological processes it is often called traditional ecological knowledge (Berkes

1999). Section 2 focuses primarily on Alaska Native knowledge, and Barnhardt explains its socialecological implications in detail. Each of these modes of knowledge production represents a valuable contribution to the human endeavor to learn about reality. In concert they can help us as we try to understand the effects of a changing climate, foster human adaptive capacity in the face of change, and design strategies for the future.

References Berkes, F. 1999. Sacred ecology: Traditional ecological knowledge and resource management. Philadelphia, PA: Taylor and Francis. Blair, B. 2010. Risk society on the last frontier: Indigenous knowledge and the politics of risk in oil resource management at Alaska’s North Slope. M.A. thesis, University of Alaska Fairbanks. Figueroa, R., and S. Harding. 2003. Science and other cultures. New York: Routledge. Kuhn, T. 1972. The structure of scientific revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

2

Indigenous Knowledge, Climate Change, and Sustainability

Section editors: Ray Barnhardt and Pia M. Kohler

PLATE 002 Spirit Mask Susie Bevins Wood and mixed media 30" x 30" 2009

2.1

Introduction by ray barnhardt

I

ndigenous peoples of the circumpolar north have been caretakers of the land for millennia. They have acquired extensive deep knowledge regarding the environment in which they live, and they have been at the forefront of debates about the impacts of and responses to accelerating ecological changes. The Fourth International Polar Year provided an opportunity to forge more meaningful institutional and collaborative research links with indigenous communities and to entrain and support emerging indigenous scholars. It was clear that implementing a successful IPY program required working closely with indigenous stakeholders in all phases of developing and implementing an IPY research agenda. The UAF North by 2020 Working Group on Indigenous Knowledge and Western Science identified four near- and long-term goals: 1. Develop a strategy and support activities to increase the number of Alaska Native graduate and undergraduate students in underrepresented fields of scientific research. 2. Include Alaska Native perspectives in UAF planning and research activities that have implications for Native people and communities. Seek funding to engage Native graduate students in affiliation with such research initiatives. 3. Work with researchers to ensure compliance with protocols for cultural and intellectual property rights, including the Principles for the Conduct of Research in the Arctic and the Research Guidelines of the Alaska Federation of Natives (http://www.ankn.uaf.edu/rights.html). 4. Help implement a program of graduate fellowships and residencies to enhance the exchange between arctic indigenous peoples and between Native and western perspectives on topics of relevance to the circumpolar north. 57

58â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems

The Convergence of Western Science and Indigenous Knowledge Indigenous societies, as a matter of survival, have long sought to understand the irregularities in the world around them, recognizing many underlying patterns of order in nature. For example, Alaska Native people have long been able to predict weather based on observations of subtle signs that presage what conditions are likely to be. With the vagaries introduced into the environment by accelerated climate change in recent years, there is a growing interest in exploring the potential for a complementary relationship between what were previously considered to be two disparate and irreconcilable systems of thought: western science and indigenous knowledge. Given the holistic and comprehensive nature of indigenous knowledge systems, the theme of “Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Western Science” provided fertile ground for pursuing a broad international and interdisciplinary agenda addressing research areas associated with IPY-4. In 2007, the International Council for Science–World Meteorological Association Joint Committee for the International Polar Year and the IPY International Program Office identified six themes around which IPY activities were to be organized: atmosphere, ice, land, oceans, people, and space. In the introduction to the activities associated with “people,” the IPY offered the following statement of intent: IPY promotes constructive and respectful engagement with northern people through community monitoring, through acknowledgement and protection of traditional knowledge, and through inclusion of northern people as valued partners in planning and conducting IPY and in evaluating and assessing IPY results and legacies. IPY researchers will focus on northern human health, particularly on impacts of pollution, contaminants and parasites in traditional foods, existing and emerging infectious diseases, chronic diseases, and unhealthy behaviors. Researchers will explore many facets of arctic social systems, to determine resiliency to internal and external change and to develop adaptation and mitigation strategies. IPY investigations will include studies of unique uses of language, such as for intergenerational understanding of sea ice, studies of how legal systems protect the value and integrity of traditional knowledge, and economic and social assessments of the impacts and opportunities related to natural resource management and energy and transportation developments. (http://www. ipy.org/)

Indigenous Knowledge, Climate Change, and Sustainabilityâ•…59

This statement captures many of the recommendations that have been put forth over the past twenty years regarding the emerging role of indigenous peoples in multiple facets of arctic research. It is to the “inclusion of northern people as valued partners” in IPY-sponsored activities that the North by 2020 Working Group directed its attention. The intent is to provide a means for indigenous people to influence the IPY research agenda at all levels and to prepare a cohort of indigenous scholars to carry forward that research agenda to future generations of indigenous and nonindigenous researchers. The aspirations of indigenous peoples in relation to IPY extend beyond serving in a passive or advisory role in response to someone else’s research agenda. Indigenous peoples wish to shape the terms of that agenda and actively participate in its implementation. One of the most persistent constraints in fulfilling those aspirations has been a lack of recognition of indigenous peoples as having the qualifications and expertise to be “valued partners” in the research process. To overcome those constraints, indigenous scholars who have a high level of research expertise and an in-depth understanding of the dynamics at the interface between indigenous knowledge systems and western science must increase their preparation. These are issues of concern across the circumpolar region, and therefore this strategy for IPY-related research and graduate education is reflected in many recent reports on arctic research involving indigenous peoples. For example, the 2005 International Conference on Arctic Research Planning (ICARP II) held in Copenhagen included a working group on “Indigenous Peoples and Change in the Arctic: Adaptation, Adjustment and Empowerment,” which identified the distinguishing characteristics of indigenous peoples as follows: • • • • • • •

They are the aboriginal inhabitants of the region in which they live. They speak or spoke a language that is different from that of the dominant group. They are or were discriminated against within the legal and political systems. Their cultures diverge from that of the remaining society. Their languages, cultures, and values are endangered. Their cultures are based on herding, hunting, and fishing. They consider themselves and are considered by others to be different from the rest of the population. (ICARP II 2005)

Taken together, those characteristics clearly set indigenous peoples apart as inhabitants of the circumpolar region and call for distinct strategies in addressing their social, economic, political, and cultural needs. IPY-4 provided an opportunity to begin to address the concerns of indigenous peoples and the growing

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recognition by multiple international actors that indigenous peoples in the Arctic have significance not only in the usual role as passive research subjects or “wards of the state” but also as agents of their own future. In 2004, the Arctic Council issued the Arctic Human Development Report, which highlighted three significant factors influencing the lives of indigenous peoples of the Arctic: controlling one’s own destiny, maintaining cultural identity, and living close to nature (Arctic Council 2004). Key to alleviating the negative effects and strengthening the positive contributions of these factors in people’s lives is the need for education and research efforts initiated in the Arctic by indigenous peoples themselves and by local institutions. As the Arctic Human Development Report indicated, Economic models and policies in modern arctic societies are traditionally designed and legitimated in administrative and political institutional contexts outside the Arctic. A key concern of future research should be to have a critical look at these contexts aiming at gaining new grounds for decision-making.╯.╯. . Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic have managed to carve out political regions in which they make up the majority, or at least a significant part of the population. Based upon this reality, Indigenous Peoples and communities are now actively involved in setting research agendas. This opens a completely new dynamic between researchers and arctic peoples. No longer seen as “objects” of research, Indigenous Peoples are active participants in new research initiatives increasingly based on partnerships, out of which new knowledge can be gained, general theory developed, and policy relevant recommendations for pressing contemporary issues can emerge. It is thus obvious that research agendas set by Indigenous Peoples themselves or reflecting indigenous cultures will be a key factor in setting research priorities for the next decade. (Arctic Council 2004) While these issues are of critical concern for indigenous peoples and communities in the circumpolar region, their significance is by no means limited to the Arctic. These are issues of broad international importance, as reflected in the 2005 United Nations report on the Status and Trends Regarding the Knowledge, Innovations and Practices of Indigenous and Local Communities, which concluded as follows: Indigenous Peoples are establishing new solutions in order to meet the challenges of modernity and overall change. These solutions,

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for instance regarding the use of local knowledge in the context of resource management, can differ from each other quite radically. However, the cultural and traditional knowledge-related base is still there. The cases from different parts of the Arctic show that it is important to explore and document traditional knowledge for the benefit of the modern society and its needs and challenges. It is also important that holders of different knowledge and traditions, indigenous and non-indigenous, come together and listen carefully to each other’s concepts and perspectives. (HelanderRenvall 2005) Recognizing the need to address these issues in a systematic way, the National Science Foundation Office of Polar Programs convened a “Bridging the Poles” workshop in Washington DC in June 2004. The workshop brought together scientists, educators, and media specialists to outline an education and research agenda for IPY. Among their recommendations were the following: Communication with arctic Indigenous Peoples must include developing a new generation of researchers from the Arctic who actively investigate and communicate northern issues to global populations and decision makers. This theme of building capacity within communities, together with providing opportunities for personal contact and field experiences, making polar issues relevant at the community level, and developing mentoring and support systems, was articulated for each target group. Networking diverse communities together through common interests can have a long-lasting impact. (NSF 2004) Workshop participants then outlined the following objectives for IPY regarding the engagement of diverse communities: •

•

Arctic residents, including indigenous populations, are meaningfully engaged in developing and implementing polar research, education, and outreach, including community concerns and traditional knowledge, with an increase in the number of arctic residents—especially indigenous Alaskans—with PhDs. Focus on building capacity within indigenous communities for conducting research (including local collection of data) and education/outreach in both traditional and nontraditional venues. Community-based educational components should be developed for existing and planned long-term

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•

observation networks, structured like GLOBE (Global Learning and Observations to Benefit the Environment) projects and tailored by community members to address community-relevant issues, and to involve both Native elders and scientists. Arctic research projects by Native people, for Native people, will involve finding funding sources and connecting them with Native communities. There can be varied tracks for community-based science education ranging from informal to certificate track to graduate degree track. Develop opportunities for all types of students. Recognizing that Native peoples have knowledge and traditions to share with other populations is an important first step toward their involvement. Their presence in the field of education, both traditional and nontraditional, will assist in encouraging more Natives and in providing a bridge to other cultures. Science information existing in their people through their elders and collective knowledge and practices has a place in current and future research. Respect for preserving their traditions must be considered in any program. (NSF 2004)

These objectives from the “Bridging the Poles” workshop have been at the core of the North by 2020 Working Groups initiative to engage a cohort of emerging indigenous scholars with the IPY research agenda. These scholars are prepared to address the complex issues at the interface between indigenous knowledge systems and western science. The American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), following a series of symposia on “Native Science” begun at the 2003 Annual Meeting, published the Handbook on Traditional Knowledge and Intellectual Property to guide “traditional knowledge holders in protecting their intellectual property and maintaining biological diversity.” In the handbook, AAAS published the following definition: Traditional knowledge is the information that people in a given community, based on experience and adaptation to a local culture and environment, have developed over time and continue to develop. This knowledge is used to sustain the community and its culture and to maintain the genetic resources necessary for the continued survival of the community. (Hansen and VanFleet 2003) Western scientific perspectives influence decisions that affect every aspect of indigenous people’s lives, from education to fish and wildlife management. As a consequence, indigenous people themselves are taking an active role in reasserting

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their own traditions of science in various research and policymaking arenas. There is a growing awareness of the depth and breadth of knowledge that is extant in many indigenous societies and its potential value in addressing issues of contemporary concern, including the adaptive processes associated with a rapidly changing environment. The following observations in the Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy (Inuit Circumpolar Conference 1993) illustrate the point: Resolving the various concerns that Indigenous Peoples have about the development of scientific based information must be addressed through both policy and programs. This begins with reformulating the principles and guidelines within which research will be carried out and involves the process of consultation and the development of appropriate techniques for identifying problems that Indigenous Peoples wish to see resolved. But the most important step that must be taken is to assure that indigenous environmental and ecological knowledge becomes an information system that carries its own validity and recognition. A large effort is now underway in certain areas within the circumpolar region, as well as in other parts of the world, to establish these information systems and to set standards for their use. Actions taken by indigenous peoples over the past twenty years have begun to explain indigenous knowledge systems in ways that demonstrate their inherent validity and adaptability as complex entities with a logic and coherence of their own. As this shift evolves, it is not only indigenous people who are the beneficiaries; the issues that are being addressed are of significance in nonindigenous contexts as well. Problems of apathy, alienation, and anomie, which are evident under conditions of marginalization and disenfranchisement, have gravitated from the periphery to the center of postindustrial societies, so new insights that are emerging from indigenous societies are of equal benefit to the broader community. In an effort to begin to address the imbalance of emic and etic perspectives in indigenous contexts, the University of Alaska Fairbanks has obtained National Science Foundation funding under the Integrated Graduate Education, Research and Training program to implement a pilot program around the themes of resilience and adaptation in social–ecological systems. As an interdisciplinary graduate-level training and education program, Resilience and Adaptation (RAP) has focused on sustainability in times of rapid change and aimed at preparing scholars, policymakers, community leaders, and managers to address issues of sustainability in an integrated fashion. Through coursework, an internship experience, thesis research, and other training activities, students enrolled in PhD and master’s programs address a

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major challenge facing humanity: sustaining the desirable features of Earth’s socialecological systems at a time of rapid change. The concepts of resilience, adaptation, vulnerability, and transformation serve as unifying themes in research examining global-to-local interactions. The program prepares students for positions of leadership in academia, government, nongovernment organizations, education, Native organizations, and agency management. A particular emphasis is placed on recruitment and participation of Alaska Natives and members of other indigenous groups (cf. http://www.uaf.edu/rap/). Most past research initiatives aimed at engaging indigenous people were designed from a nonindigenous, etic perspective and were focused on ways to make indigenous people understand the western/scientific view of the world (Langdon 2009; Sefa Dei et al. 2008; Smith 1999). Until recently, little attention was given to how western scientists and educators might better understand indigenous worldviews. Even less attention was given to what it means for participants when such divergent systems coexist in the same person, organization, or community. It is imperative, therefore, that we approach these issues on a two-way street rather than viewing the problem as a one-way challenge to get indigenous people to buy into the western system. Indigenous people may need to understand western society, but not at the expense of what they already know and the way they have come to know it. Nonindigenous people, too, need to recognize the coexistence of multiple worldviews and knowledge systems. They need to find ways to understand and relate to the world in its multiple dimensions of diversity and complexity. The incongruities between western institutional structures and practices and indigenous cultural forms have not been easy to reconcile. However, many of the indigenous initiatives associated with the International Polar Year have provided compelling evidence of the benefits that can be derived from pursuing collaborative research endeavors, as indicated by the chapters in the current collection.

Section Overview This section on “Indigenous Knowledge, Climate Change, and Sustainability” begins with the “Anchorage Declaration,” a position statement drawn from the Indigenous Peoples’ Global Summit on Climate Change, which met in Anchorage, Alaska, April 20–24, 2009. The summit focused on the role of indigenous peoples in addressing the effects of climate change on their communities and cultures, referencing the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as well as the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. At the heart of the Anchorage Declaration is a call for international action to “take the necessary measures to ensure the full and effective participation of indigenous

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and local communities in formulating, implementing, and monitoring activities, mitigation, and adaptation relating to impacts of climate change.” In exchange for their participation in these efforts, indigenous peoples offered the following pledge: We offer to share with humanity our traditional knowledge, innovations, and practices relevant to climate change, provided our fundamental rights as intergenerational guardians of this knowledge are fully recognized and respected. We reiterate the urgent need for collective action. The subsequent chapters in this section provide examples of such collaborative and reciprocal actions as drawn from initiatives carried out during the Fourth International Polar Year. A reflective and perceptive contribution is found in observations on “My Place, My Identity,” by Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley. As a Yupiaq scholar, Dr. Kawagley has been at the forefront in articulating the long-term consequences of climate change on the lives and livelihood of indigenous peoples, including the impact on worldviews and educational practices. His expansive perspective is followed by Steven R. Becker’s concrete examples of indigenous people’s responses to climate change and its implications for a sense of place and Native well-being. Of particular concern in Becker’s chapter, “A Changing Sense of Place: Climate and Native Well-Being,” are the threats to identity and livelihood as villages face relocation and even dissolution as a result of climate-induced thawing of permafrost and massive coastal and riverine erosion. The next chapter, “Values of Nushagak Bay: Past, Present, and Future,” by Todd Radenbaugh and Sarah Wingert Pederson, expands on the theme of changing patterns in climate, habitats, and economies. It explores the ways in which these changes are altering the foundations of traditional value systems derived from a deep association with the surrounding ecosystem over millennia. With these changes comes a competing value system with a more exploitative orientation to the environment, creating the challenge of finding ways to achieve a sustainable balance. Nowhere is the need for this balance more evident than in the imperative for sustainable food systems that can adapt to the accelerating changes in climate and environment. The next chapter in this section, “Food Systems, Environmental Change, and Community Needs in Rural Alaska,” by S. Craig Gerlach, Philip A. Loring, Amy Turner, and David E. Atkinson, highlights the importance of food security and the threats to local food systems. In an international system relying on the notion of state sovereignty, the rights of indigenous peoples have long been contested. Yet since the declaration of 1993 as the International Year for the World’s Indigenous Peoples, there has been a marked increase in the integration of indigenous knowledge in global assessments, agenda

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setting, and policymaking. This trend is paralleled by a clearer recognition of the rights of indigenous peoples, including through the adoption by the UN General Assembly in 2007 of the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. In her chapter, Pia M. Kohler provides an overview of the evolution of participation by indigenous peoples in global environmental politics in particular, including the essential role of indigenous knowledge in shaping global policies and institutions. In the chapter “Indigenous Contributions to Sustainability,” Ray Barnhardt examines the interface between indigenous communities and the institutional environments in which their lives are situated. He identifies the structures and relationships that are needed to produce a life and livelihood that are sustainable in both the local and global contexts. A central construct in this and the preceding chapters is the rights of indigenous people and the need for them to bring their own worldviews and knowledge systems to the decision-making arenas that affect their lives. Self-determination and self-government are no longer hollow aspirations; they serve as the foundation of a sustainable future for indigenous peoples around the world. In the last chapter of the indigenous knowledge section, Mary Beth Leigh, Krista Katalenich, Cynthia Hardy, and Pia M. Kohler report on “Climate Change and Creative Expression,” an interdisciplinary art/science course developed for middle-school children at Effie Kokrine Charter School in Fairbanks, Alaska. With a 90% enrollment of Alaska Native children, the Effie Kokrine School emphasizes Native culture and values. The course, which integrated creative writing and dance with climate change science, culminated in a book of poetry and a public performance. The students created readings, theater, dance, and music that communicated their knowledge, thoughts, and feelings about climate change in Alaska.

Sustainability of Social-Ecological Systems Indigenous peoples throughout the world have sustained their unique worldviews and associated knowledge systems for millennia, even while undergoing major social upheavals as a result of forces beyond their control. Many of the core values, beliefs, and practices associated with those worldviews are recognized as having an adaptive integrity that is as relevant today as it was for generations past. The deep indigenous knowledge rooted in the long inhabitation of a particular place offers insights that can benefit everyone, including educators and scientists, as we search for a more satisfying and sustainable way to live on this planet. The task of achieving sustainability within a context of rapid change hinges on our ability to demonstrate that we can forge a reciprocal relationship that has relevance to local indigenous societies as well as in the broader social, political,

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and educational arenas. Using research strategies that link the ways of knowing already established in local communities and cultures with western science will enable indigenous people to find value in what emerges and put new insights into practice toward achieving their own ends. The knowledge gained from these efforts will further our understanding of basic human processes associated with the transmission of knowledge in all forms. Bringing the research expertise and educational capabilities associated with the IPY into direct involvement with indigenous scholars and communities has served a capacity-building function. It has provided a potential “multiplier effect” in underdeveloped areas on a range of socioeconomic indices, including health, education, and economic well-being. IPY has focused on an interdisciplinary, crossinstitutional, and cross-cultural research endeavor. It is well positioned to ensure that community and institutional participants and the infrastructure supporting them will move forward on a pathway to becoming self-sufficient and sustainable beyond the life of the Fourth International Polar Year.

References Arctic Council. 2004. Arctic human development report. Copenhagen: Arctic Council. Hansen, S. A., and J. W. VanFleet. 2003. Traditional knowledge and intellectual property. Washington DC: American Association for the Advancement of Science. Helander-Renvall, E. 2005. Composite report on status and trends regarding the knowledge, innovations and practices of indigenous and local communities: Arctic region. Geneva, Switzerland: United Nations Environment Programme. ICARP II. 2005. Working group on indigenous peoples and change in the Arctic: Adaptation, adjustment and empowerment. Copenhagen: International Conference on Arctic Research Planning II. Inuit Circumpolar Conference. 1993. Arctic environmental protection strategy: A research program on indigenous knowledge. Nuuk, Greenland. Langdon, J. (ed.). 2009. Indigenous knowledges, development and education. Rotterdam: Sense Publisher. National Science Foundation (NSF). 2004. Bridging the Poles. Washington DC: Office of Polar Programs. Sefa Dei, G. J., B. L. Hall, and D. G. Rosenberg (eds.). 2008. Indigenous knowledges in global contexts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Smith, L. T. 1999. Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. New York: Zed Books.

2.2

The Anchorage Declaration submitted by patricia cochran

Indigenous Peoples’ Global Summit on Climate Change

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rom April 20 to 24, 2009, indigenous representatives from the Arctic, North America, Asia, the Pacific, Latin America, Africa, the Caribbean, and Russia met in Anchorage, Alaska, for the Indigenous Peoples’ Global Summit on Climate Change. We thank the Ahtna and the Dena’ina Athabascan Peoples in whose lands we gathered. We express our solidarity as Indigenous Peoples living in areas that are the most vulnerable to the impacts and root causes of climate change. We reaffirm the unbreakable and sacred connection between land, air, water, oceans, forests, sea ice, plants, animals, and our human communities as the material and spiritual basis for our existence. We are deeply alarmed by the accelerating climate devastation brought about by unsustainable development. We are experiencing profound and disproportionate adverse impacts on our cultures, human and environmental health, human rights, well-being, traditional livelihoods, food systems and food sovereignty, local infrastructure, economic viability, and our very survival as Indigenous Peoples. Mother Earth is no longer in a period of climate change, but in climate crisis. We therefore insist on an immediate end to the destruction and desecration of the elements of life. Through our knowledge, spirituality, sciences, practices, experiences, and relationships with our traditional lands, territories, waters, air, forests, oceans, sea ice, other natural resources, and all life, Indigenous Peoples have a vital role in

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defending and healing Mother Earth. The future of Indigenous Peoples lies in the wisdom of our elders, the restoration of the sacred position of women, the youth of today, and in the generations of tomorrow. We uphold that the inherent and fundamental human rights and status of Indigenous Peoples, affirmed in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), must be fully recognized and respected in all decision-making processes and activities related to climate change. This includes our rights to our lands, territories, environment, and natural resources as contained in Articles 25–30 of the UNDRIP. When specific programs and projects affect our lands, territories, environment, and natural resources, the right of selfdetermination of Indigenous Peoples must be recognized and respected, emphasizing our right to free, prior, and informed consent, including the right to say “no.” The United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) agreements and principles must reflect the spirit and the minimum standards contained in UNDRIP.

Calls for Action 1.

In order to achieve the fundamental objective of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), we call upon the fifteenth meeting of the Conference of the Parties to the UNFCCC to support a binding emissions reduction target for developed countries of at least 45% below 1990 levels by 2020 and at least 95% by 2050. In recognizing the root causes of climate change, participants call upon states to work toward decreasing dependency on fossil fuels. We further call for a just transition to decentralized renewable energy economies, sources, and systems owned and controlled by our local communities to achieve energy security and sovereignty. In addition, the summit participants agreed to present two options for action, each of which was supported by one or more of the participating regional caucuses. These were as follows: a. We call for the phase out of fossil fuel development and a moratorium on new fossil fuel development on or near indigenous lands and territories. b. We call for a process that works toward the eventual phase out of fossil fuels, without infringing on the right to development of indigenous nations. 2. We call upon the parties to the UNFCCC to recognize the importance of our traditional knowledge and practices shared by Indigenous Peoples

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3.

4.

5.

6.

in developing strategies to address climate change. To address climate change, we also call on the UNFCCC to recognize the historical and ecological debt of the Annex 1 countries in contributing to greenhouse gas emissions. We call on these countries to pay this historical debt. We call upon the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment, and other relevant institutions to support Indigenous Peoples in carrying out Indigenous Peoples’ climate change assessments. We call upon the UNFCCC’s decision-making bodies to establish formal structures and mechanisms for and with the full and effective participation of Indigenous Peoples. Specifically we recommend that the UNFCCC: a. Organize regular technical briefings by Indigenous Peoples on traditional knowledge and climate change; b. Recognize and engage the International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Climate Change and its regional focal points in an advisory role; c. Immediately establish an indigenous focal point in the secretariat of the UNFCCC; d. Appoint Indigenous Peoples’ representatives in UNFCCC funding mechanisms in consultation with Indigenous Peoples; e. Take the necessary measures to ensure the full and effective participation of indigenous and local communities in formulating, implementing, and monitoring activities, mitigation, and adaptation relating to the impacts of climate change. All initiatives under Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Degradation (REDD) must secure the recognition and implementation of the human rights of Indigenous Peoples, including security of land tenure, ownership, recognition of land title according to traditional ways, uses and customary laws, and the multiple benefits of forests for climate, ecosystems, and peoples, before taking any action. We challenge states to abandon false solutions to climate change that negatively impact Indigenous Peoples’ rights, lands, air, oceans, forests, territories, and waters. These include nuclear energy, large-scale dams, geo-engineering techniques, “clean coal,” agro-fuels, plantations, and market-based mechanisms such as carbon trading, the Clean Development Mechanism, and forest offsets. The human rights of Indigenous Peoples to protect our forests and forest livelihoods must be recognized, respected, and ensured.

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7.

8. 9.

10.

11.

12.

We call for adequate and direct funding in developed and developing states and for a fund to be created to enable Indigenous Peoples’ full and effective participation in all climate processes, including adaptation, mitigation, monitoring, and transfer of appropriate technologies in order to foster our empowerment, capacity building, and education. We strongly urge relevant United Nations bodies to facilitate and fund the participation, education, and capacity building of indigenous youth and women to ensure engagement in all international and national processes related to climate change. We call upon financial institutions to provide risk insurance for Indigenous Peoples to allow them to recover from extreme weather events. We call upon all United Nations agencies to address climate change impacts in their strategies and action plans, in particular their impacts on Indigenous Peoples, including the World Health Organization (WHO), United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), and United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII). In particular, we call upon the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) and all other relevant United Nations bodies to establish an Indigenous Peoples’ working group to address the impacts of climate change on food security and food sovereignty for Indigenous Peoples. We call upon the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) to conduct a fast-track assessment of short-term drivers of climate change, specifically black carbon, with a view to initiating negotiation of an international agreement to reduce emissions of black carbon. We call upon states to recognize, respect, and implement the fundamental human rights of Indigenous Peoples, including the collective rights to traditional ownership, use, access, occupancy, and title to traditional lands, air, forests, waters, oceans, sea ice, and sacred sites, as well as to ensure that the rights affirmed in treaties are upheld and recognized in land use planning and climate change mitigation strategies. In particular, states must ensure that Indigenous Peoples have the right to mobility and are not forcibly removed or settled away from their traditional lands and territories, and that the rights of peoples in voluntary isolation are upheld. In the case of climate change migrants, appropriate programs and measures must address their rights, status, conditions, and vulnerabilities. We call upon states to return and restore lands, territories, waters, forests, oceans, sea ice, and sacred sites that have been taken from Indigenous

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Peoples, limiting our access to our traditional ways of living, thereby causing us to misuse and expose our lands to activities and conditions that contribute to climate change. 13. In order to provide the resources necessary for our collective survival in response to the climate crisis, we declare our communities, waters, air, forests, oceans, sea ice, traditional lands, and territories to be “Food Sovereignty Areas,” defined and directed by Indigenous Peoples according to customary laws, free from extractive industries, deforestation, and chemical-based industrial food production systems (i.e., contaminants, agro-fuels, genetically modified organisms). 14. We encourage our communities to exchange information while ensuring the protection and recognition of and respect for the intellectual property rights of Indigenous Peoples at the local, national, and international levels pertaining to our traditional knowledge, innovations, and practices. These include knowledge and use of land, water, and sea ice, traditional agriculture, forest management, ancestral seeds, pastoralism, food plants, animals, and medicines and are essential in developing climate change adaptation and mitigation strategies, restoring our food sovereignty and food independence, and strengthening our indigenous families and nations. We offer to share with humanity our traditional knowledge, innovations, and practices relevant to climate change, provided our fundamental rights as intergenerational guardians of this knowledge are fully recognized and respected. We reiterate the urgent need for collective action. Agreed by consensus of the participants in the Indigenous Peoples’ Global Summit on Climate Change, Anchorage, Alaska, April 24, 2009.

2.3

My Place, My Identity by angayuqaq oscar kawagley editors’ note by ray barnhardt and pia m. kohler

Editors’ Note

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he following essay was prepared by Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley in response to an invitation from the editors of this section. Oscar is a Yupiaq Eskimo who was raised by his grandmother in a traditional fish camp setting in southwestern Alaska. Oscar’s upbringing meant that he was immersed in many of the ways of the old people. His grandmother spoke no English, and Yupiaq was his first language. It was his generation that experienced a time of great change as Native people throughout Alaska emerged from a traditional lifestyle to encounter the western world. In particular, Oscar learned the strong connections between language and culture, and he learned to respect the environment and live in harmony with it. This grounding in the Yupiaq language, culture, and environment gave Oscar the unique qualities and perspectives that enabled him to work between two very different worlds later in life.  He went on to break ground as the first Yupiaq to become a teacher, to complete a master’s degree, to earn a PhD, and to become a faculty member at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. He completed his PhD in 1992 at the University of British Columbia, with his scholarly pursuits culminating in the publication of his book, A Yupiaq Worldview: A Pathway to Ecology and Spirit, now available in its second edition. Oscar has published numerous additional articles that are widely read and cited for their contribution to our understanding of the intersection of indigenous knowledge systems and western science. (Oscar’s essays are available on the Alaska Native Knowledge Network website at www.ankn.uaf.edu.) Few people are as skilled as Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley in bridging the western academic/scientific world and that of indigenous peoples. The past four 75

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decades have seen Alaska Native people struggle to have their voices, issues, and concerns heard by the western world and to have meaningful roles in institutional and governmental decision making that affects their lives. Oscar has been a highly influential and effective voice for Alaska Natives in dealing with policy and program development in a wide variety of fields. He has worked to develop culturally sensitive curriculum materials, conduct collaborative scientific research, foster cross-cultural understanding and communications, and assert basic human rights. Among many other positions, he has served as a commissioner on the Alaska Native Science Commission since its inception. Oscar’s leadership has been recognized at the highest level, as reflected in the numerous invitations he has received to contribute to national and international forums on a wide range of issues. He participated in a United Nations Commission on Human Rights project to develop guidelines for UN-sponsored indigenous human rights education initiatives. In 2004 he received the Alaska Governor’s Award for the Arts and Humanities, citing his forty years of service to the state of Alaska, and in 2009 he was granted emeritus status at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Dr. Kawagley brings unique qualities and perspectives to bear on contemporary social and ecological issues, and he has demonstrated his ability to make original scholarly and public service contributions to his field in ways that are having a significant impact locally, nationally, and internationally. We are honored to include Oscar’s voice in this collection.

My Place, My Identity

by angayuqaq oscar kawagley I recently watched a television program titled “You Own Alaska.” My first reaction was that this was an expression motivated by political and economic interests. But the more I thought about it, the more it grated on my worldview. How could anyone “own” Alaska? According to my ancestral traditions, the land owns me! Thus began my reflections on how my Yupiaq worldview differs from that of the dominant society. The cold defines my place. Mamterilleq (now known as Bethel, Alaska) made me who I am. The cold made my language, my worldview, my culture and technology. Now, the cold is waning at a very fast rate and, as a result, it is changing the landscape. The changing landscape, in turn, is confusing the mindscape of the Yupiat and other indigenous people. Some of the natural sense makers of Mother Nature are out of synchronization with the flora and fauna. We, the Yupiat of the Kuskokwim River, used the leafing of the alder tree to tell us when the smelts would journey up the river and we could begin dip netting

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for them. When the alder leaves emerge from the bud, the king salmon will be arriving, and so on. But these indicators are no longer reliable when spring arrives two to four weeks earlier than usual. This is just one example of the changes that are taking place in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. In times past, the landscape formed our mindscape, which in turn formed our identity. I grew up as an inseparable part of Nature. It was not my place to “own” land or to domesticate plants or animals, which often have more power than I as a human being. We know that Mother Nature has a culture, and it is a Native culture. This is why we as a Native people have to emulate Her. We know that the Ellam Yua, the Person or Spirit of the Universe, lives in Her. That is why she serves as our guide, teacher, and mentor. We need to spend much time in Nature to commune with the Great Consciousness. This gives balance to the Native person. Mother Nature encourages us to become altruistic, showing the utmost respect for everything around us, including the flora and fauna, the winds, the rivers, the lakes, the mountains, the clouds, the stars, the Milky Way, the sun, the moon, and the ocean currents. Mother Earth gives me everything I need to know and be able to do to problemsolve. But times have changed, making living a life in concert with Mother Earth more difficult. Missionaries and the educational system had the first impact. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, schools were introduced to the Yupiat people by the Christian churches under contract with the US government. Boarding schools were established for Alaska Native youngsters. The education provided was organized to assimilate the Native people into the techno-mechanistic and consumerist worldview. The education was oppressive and suppressive of the Native language and culture. By this time, the United States had become adept at organizing and administering boarding schools for American Indians. Native children were taken away from their parents and villages for long periods of time. They would return to their home villages, but they no longer fit in. Their wants and desires were averse to the village life. The assimilative education was so effective, it caused most Native youngsters to suppress their own Nativeness. From the late 1960s and up to the present, Native people have been working diligently to change education so that it accommodates their languages, worldviews, culture, and technology. This is a slow healing process for the villages. Our educational mission is to produce human beings at home in their place, their environment, their world. This is slowly being brought to fruition through the efforts of the Native people themselves, with support from others of like thinking. The Yupiat have been proactive in reorienting the education system for their children and are now proving to be equally proactive in dealing with the effects of

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climate change. They are looking at how our ancestors dealt with climate change in the past and applying what they learn to the present. Once they have an idea of what might be done, they devise a plan and ask for technical assistance from engineers, hydrologists, geographers, and other scientists whose knowledge and skills will give them the best guidance. For example, the village of Newtok, which has suffered from extensive erosion, has taken a leadership role in planning the move of their village, including seeking finances, looking at a possible new site for the village, and asking elders and geologists to provide an assessment of whether their choices are right. This is a villageled design and organization for moving everything, including the homes, airfield, water well, and other community facilities. The Yupiat are also proactive in cleaning spawning areas for salmon. They meet periodically with state fisheries experts to let them know their concerns and to address issues in which they need technical help. Native people realize that the traditional ways of knowing and doing can benefit from technical assistance provided by the various disciplinary sciences to strengthen their plans and work. Working together, the two ways of knowing are much more powerful and, we hope, more conducive to doing the right thing. It is through such collaborations that the historic clash of worldviews as reflected in the phrase “You Own Alaska” can become a force for new understandings and solutions to the many challenges we face together.

2.4

A Changing Sense of Place: Climate and Native Well-Being by steven r. becker

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he United Nations identifies indigenous peoples by a variety of factors, one of which is their special relationship with traditional lands—a relationship that “has a fundamental importance for their collective physical and cultural survival as peoples” (Chakrabarti 2007). Indigenous peoples actively draw on the power of their place physically and spiritually (Deloria and Wildcat 2001), forming a tie to traditional lands that can transcend generations living in an urban setting far removed from those lands (NUIFC 2008). “It is this .╯.╯. place-based existence .╯.╯. that fundamentally distinguishes Indigenous Peoples from other peoples of the world” (Alfred and Corntassel 2005). But what happens to indigenous peoples when changes in global climate drastically alter the land itself ? Global climate is naturally variable, and indigenous peoples have successfully weathered those changes through a number of adaptation strategies (Houser et al. 2001). However, the current warming trend is happening at an alarming and unprecedented rate, with the arctic region changing even faster than the global average (ACIA 2004). Noticeable and substantial shifts in weather patterns, ice formation, flora, and fauna are being observed, often within a single generation (Krupnik and Jolly 2002). These changes are profoundly affecting arctic peoples. Alaska Native elder Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley has stated on numerous occasions that “the Yupiaq are defined by the cold” (Kawagley 2008). But now the cold is going away, and the land and its patterns are changing. What happens to your sense of place as the plant and animal people to whom your parents and grandparents introduced you travel on, and new neighbors take their place? What effect might that have on your sense of well-being, your sense of self ? This chapter will discuss the role that sense

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of place has in Native well-being, review some of the potential impacts that climate change may have on the environment, and explore the resulting impacts on sense of place and Native well-being. Finally, this chapter presents some recommendations compiled from interviews with Native elders and scholars about how to maintain individual and cultural identity in the face of climate change.

Sense of Place in Native Well-Being “Sense of place” can be defined as belonging, attachment, and individual or collective ownership of a particular location, especially a community (Tapley 2003). For indigenous peoples, this concept of community comprises not only human beings but also the landscape and its nonhuman inhabitants (Ferguson 2005). Indigenous peoples have an inherent spiritual relationship with the land (Tofa 2006). Their traditional land is “the cradle of their being, its spirituality engulfs and dominates their belief system” (Tapley 2003). Because of these factors, sense of place for indigenous peoples is an “intertwining of the boundaries of land, tribe, and self ” ( Jones and Hunter 2003). Elizabeth Ferguson states this relationship eloquently: For example, if I say: “I am part of the land,” it is not due to an ecological affinity with the land, rather, it is because the bones of my ancestors become the land, and the land includes all our stories, ceremony and history. This makes the land a part of me; the land is my relative. I am in direct relationship with that land. It is my blood. (Ferguson 2005:26–27) The land (including the plants, animals, and other spirits it is shared with) is an extension of one’s being. The mountains and rivers are an intrinsic part of indigenous identity ( Jones and Hunter 2003), and place and identity are one and the same (Ferguson 2005). Because of this close relationship between place and self, physical isolation from the land can be traumatic for an indigenous individual or for an entire people. In describing the Maori experience, Jones and Hunter (2003) describe the loss of traditional lands as “equivalent to the psychological alienation from identity, much like amnesia due to trauma.” Although for many indigenous peoples, colonization and assimilation pressures and physical isolation from traditional lands have blurred the strong tie between place and identity (Redman 2008), even indigenous peoples living for generations in urban settings will often seek out Native organizations in part to connect with others who are physically removed from their homelands

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(NUIFC 2008). It is because of this close relationship to the land that global climate change has the potential for devastating effects on Native well-being.

Global Climate Change Over the last one hundred fifty years, an exponential increase in the combustion of fossil fuels and various industrial activities have led to an increase in atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide (~30% increase) and methane (~150% increase), which are two of the more abundant greenhouse gases (GHGs). These changes, exacerbated by an associated increase in atmospheric water vapor, have intensified the natural greenhouse effect, resulting in long-term changes in the global climate (MacCracken et al. 2001). The Arctic is now experiencing some of the most rapid and severe climate change on earth (ACIA 2004). According to Edward Parson, Lynne Carter, and others who were part of the 2001 study Climate Change Impacts on the United States, significant changes have been seen in the past century: • • • • •

Alaska’s climate has warmed about 2.2° Celsius (4° Fahrenheit) since the 1950s and 3.9° Celsius (7° Fahrenheit) in the Interior in winter. Most of the state has grown wetter, with a 30% average precipitation increase between 1968 and 1990. The growing season has lengthened by about fourteen days. Dramatic reductions in sea ice and permafrost have accompanied the recent warming. Alaska’s warming is part of a larger arctic trend corroborated by many independent measurements of sea ice, glaciers, permafrost, vegetation, and snow cover.

The rate of change is also increasing. Air temperatures in Alaska, Siberia, and Canada have risen 1.0° Celsius (2° Fahrenheit) in the past decade, compared to the global average of 0.6° Celsius (1.2° Fahrenheit) in the past century (Rosen 2004). Severe impacts related to climate change are already being experienced in Alaska. The warming trend described above has been accompanied by several decades of thawing in discontinuous permafrost, causing increased ground subsidence, erosion, landslides, and disruption and damage to forests, buildings, and infrastructure. Sea ice off the Alaskan coast is retreating (14% since 1978) and thinning (40% since the 1960s), with widespread effects on marine ecosystems, coastal climate, human settlements, and subsistence activities (Parson et al. 2001). George Canellos of the US Denali Commission gave the following testimony before the Alaska Climate Impact Assessment Commission in 2007:

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When I studied regional planning at the University of Pennsylvania, we learned from the great hydrologist Luna Leopold that lakes are the most ephemeral of surface water features. Few lakes are older than a few thousand years, and they often follow a process of shrinkage, encroachment by meadows and eventual disappearance. Like a total solar eclipse, however, I never thought I would see a lake vanish in my lifetime. When I lived in Bethel in the early 80s, our subdivision was platted around two tundra lakes. When I returned last summer (2006), one had disappeared, changing magically into a green swath of tundra. Locals say it happened quickly in a matter of weeks last summer, the water simply disappearing into the ground. Did a warming trend melt enough permafrost to allow the water to drain away? I’ll leave that conjecture to others. (Canellos 2007:1) If a western scientist such as Canellos can observe such changes, how much more apparent are they to Native elders whose lives are tied to the land? The following are some observations from Iñupiaq elders participating in the US Department of Energy’s Atmospheric Radiation Measurement Program (ARM 2007): Sadie Neakok: Climate change has affected the river ice. In the past, the ice was frozen and secure enough to set nets for gill net fishing in September. Now the ice doesn’t freeze until October. Percy Nusunginya: Climate change has affected the shore-fast sea ice and where a lead occurs in the ice. This affects where the animals are available and consequently affects food availability for people. Arnold Brower Sr.: Drier weather in Barrow affects plants. Berries, a traditional subsistence food, do not grow well in the drier weather. I believe that climate change has also affected wildlife in the area. There are many small birds and migratory wildlife that used to be abundant but are no longer around. George Leavitt: Climate change on the North Slope has increased erosion greatly. My house used to be forty feet away from the bluff, but in the last twenty to twenty-five years, there has been so much erosion, the house is now directly next to the bluff.

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Harry Brower Jr.: The sea ice is thinner now than ever before. Whale hunters need to be even more cautious because of thawing and cracks in the ice. Eugene Brower: In the fall and spring is when I see the greatest changes. It is warmer in the spring than usual and it freezes later in the fall. Also, we aren’t getting the multi-year ice to the degree we used to have in the fall time. These quotes demonstrate the detailed level of observation of local conditions by indigenous peoples through their close ties to the land that helps define them. The ARM program is not the only project incorporating indigenous observations into western scientific research. Indigenous observations of arctic environmental change is the theme of the book The Earth Is Faster Now (Krupnik and Jolly 2002), which includes extensive and detailed observations related to weather patterns and variability, snow and ice conditions, water levels in rivers and lakes, and wildlife populations. These observations are evidence of the profound impacts of climate change on the indigenous peoples of the Arctic and their way of life.

Impacts of Climate Change on Indigenous Peoples Global climate change is already having immediate physical impacts on indigenous communities in the Arctic (Parson et al. 2001). According to a 2003 report by the US General Accounting Office (GAO 2003), 184 Native villages in Alaska (~80%) are subject to increasing erosion, flooding, or both due at least in part to climate change. These impacts are exacerbated by the fact that indigenous communities often lack the economic and technical resources available to nonindigenous communities to respond to social and environmental challenges. Indigenous peoples within a colonizing society tend to have higher rates of significant health problems, more insecure and inadequate housing, comparatively lower standards of education and training, and lower economic standards of living than their nonindigenous counterparts. These factors render indigenous peoples in general more vulnerable to the physical impacts of climate change (CANA 2006). The heavy reliance on subsistence resources in Arctic communities adds another physical vulnerability to climate change. Indigenous communities depend on their environment for many types of resources. A changing climate puts such resources at risk and will affect both sustenance and cultural dependence on those resources (Houser et al. 2001). Present climate change already poses drastic threats

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to subsistence livelihoods of Alaska Natives, as many populations of marine mammals, fish, and seabirds have been reduced or displaced due to retreat and thinning of sea ice and other changes. In a press briefing held on October 23, 2007, Elijah Lane, a member of the Native Village of Point Hope and director of its Parks and Wildlife Department, said, As a member of the next generation of subsistence whalers and hunters, I’m seeing the effects of climate change in all I do. I have seen the erosion and the disappearing ice in the Chukchi Sea. I have seen the changes in the migrations of animals on the land and in the water as a result of climate change in Alaska. (Dickson et al. 2007:2) Projected climate changes are likely to intensify these impacts. In the longer term, projected ecosystem shifts are likely to further displace or alter the resources available for subsistence, requiring communities to change their practices or move (Parson et al. 2001). Because of individual, cultural, and spiritual ties to the land, relocation is not easy for a Native community. Residents of Shishmaref, a village of six hundred people located on a barrier island in the Chukchi Sea, are planning to relocate their village to the mainland due to severe erosion problems. The US government proposed relocating the people of Shishmaref to other villages in the area but, according to Luci Eningowuk, chair of the Shishmaref Erosion and Relocation Coalition, abandoning their ancestral homeland with its traditional food supply “would have a devastating impact on how we exist and who we are” (quoted in Rosen 2004). Perhaps more devastating than the immediate physical impacts on indigenous peoples are the social and cultural impacts triggered by these changes. The climate and landscape provide an important sense of place for Native peoples, who are integral to the natural environment. As vegetation and wildlife species and patterns shift, indigenous peoples’ relationship with their environment, which has been sustained through many generations, is likely to change (Houser et al. 2001). Native peoples will lose the indicators they use to predict natural conditions and coordinate the timing of events (Kawagley 2008). As Shari Fox observes, this will lead to substantial distress for individuals and the community: For example, consider how extremely skilled elders and hunters can no longer predict the weather as they have in the past. No longer able to be confident in their predictions, some elders and hunters are genuinely distressed, not only because they can no lon-

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ger advise travel parties with assurance, but because their personal relationship with the weather itself has changed. (Fox 2002:43) The cultural context of Native peoples is being disrupted (Houser et al. 2001), and that disruption is likely to continue for the foreseeable future. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC 2007), even if greenhouse gas emissions ceased today, global average surface air temperatures would continue to rise an additional 1° Celsius (~2° Fahrenheit). All of the models show similar temperature increases for the next several decades, leading the IPCC to conclude that “adaptation will be necessary to address impacts resulting from the warming which is already unavoidable due to past emissions” (IPCC 2007). The Climate Change Impacts on the United States study had the following predictions for Alaska during the coming century (Parson et al. 2001): •

• •

Continued strong warming, reaching 0.8–2.8° Celsius (1.5–5° Fahrenheit) by 2030, and 2.8–10° Celsius (5–18° Fahrenheit) by 2100, strongest in the Interior and north and during winter

Continued precipitation increases, reaching 20–25% in the north and northwest, with areas of decrease along the south coast Increased evaporation from warming will more than offset increased precipitation, making soils drier in most of the state

When changes of this magnitude are taking place, it is easy to fall into despair. Kawagley (2008) speaks of the emotional reaction associated with the loss of natural indicators and the cultural context associated with a changing landscape: I think that it will be kind of horrific, psychologically.╯.╯. . It would be just like losing a family member. There would be a lot of grief attached to it, because they have known it for so long, then all of a sudden it is gone. This type of grief may be difficult to recover from, and for indigenous peoples, who are already facing pressures from the loss of language and traditions, the changing landscape could be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. As Justine Rose Webb of Murdoch University wrote regarding the changes to the traditional landscape associated with the colonization of the Pilbara region of Australia, “When the very essence of your life is taken away, like a line of dominos, the momentum pushing you down can be the easiest way to fall” (Webb 2003).

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Maintaining Identity through Climate Change In light of the bleak outlook painted above, how do indigenous peoples maintain their identity, their sense of individual and communal self, throughout these changing times? Unfortunately there is no single easy answer to that question, but some ideas that have been put forth may assist a community in preparing for change. The ideas presented below have been shared by indigenous elders, leaders, and scholars from multiple cultures, including Dr. Angayuqaq Oscar Kawagley and Stanley Tom (Yupiaq), Howard Luke and Randy Mayo (Athabascan), Tony Weyiouanna Jr. (Iñupiaq), Mervyn Tano (Native Hawaiian), Margaret LaPray (Niimi’ipuu), and others with whom I have had the honor of working over the years. This chapter draws heavily on the work of Dr. Kawagley. However, like all things in nature, there are no broad lines or sharp demarcations here between these elders and their specific ideas. Rather, their teachings are woven together and cycle back to one another as the seasons of the year, and the lessons need to be used the same way.

Have Confidence in Yourself First, indigenous peoples need to have faith in their innate adaptability. This and the experiences and lessons that have been learned about coping with climate fluctuations have sustained Native cultures through many generations (Houser et al. 2001). In addition, the environmental balances that sustained Native peoples in North America for many millennia began shifting rapidly about five hundred years ago. While there is clear evidence that indigenous peoples manipulated the environment to meet their needs, it was on the whole done with an awareness of their relationship with the land and a level of respect and reciprocation that improved the robustness and sustainability of the ecosystem (Barsh 2004). This respect and reciprocation changed on a massive scale with the beginning of European colonization. Forests were cut for farming. Exotic grasses and crops were imported to replace native grasslands. Rivers and streams were dammed and channeled. Uplands were flooded and ponds and swamps drained away. Key wildlife species were harvested to near extinction, and domesticated and imported animals displaced other traditional species (Houser et al. 2001). Since the advent of European colonization, indigenous peoples have also faced substantial social challenges. Treaties have been broken, tribes scattered or “consolidated,” and entire nations have been forced to leave their homelands (Houser et al. 2001). Diseases have eradicated whole villages (Napoleon 1996), missionary schools have tried to educate and convert Alaska Natives out of their Native ways (Kawagley 2006), and government policies have tried both genocide and

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assimilation (Deloria 1988). As Nancy Maynard stated in the Final Report: Native Peoples—Native Homelands Climate Change Workshop in 1998, The fact that North American indigenous societies have survived into the 21st century, with cultures, traditions, languages, and portions of their Native homelands relatively intact, speaks of a respectful and enduring reliance upon traditional ecological knowledge, spiritual strength, and cultural adaptations. (Maynard 1998:ii) Her words are echoed by Kawagley, who maintains that to keep their adaptability, indigenous peoples must be well grounded in their culture and traditional knowledge (Kawagley 2008).

Be Grounded in Your Culture In his paper Oral Traditions in the First Steps toward Decolonization, Leo Killsback (2006) states that “Indian people need to look to their oral traditions to understand, find guidance, and seek solutions to the problems they face.” This is true particularly for problems related to climate change. The oral histories not only tell them what past climate was like, they also frequently contain lessons on what the community did to adjust and survive. Thus, the retelling of these stories by elders can help teach younger generations how to adapt to adversity (Houser et al. 2001). However, indigenous peoples must not fall into the western trap of looking only backward and viewing traditional knowledge as a static body of knowledge. Traditional knowledge is the information that people in a given community, based on experience and adaptation to a local culture and environment, have developed, and continue to develop, over time (Tano 2006). It will be critical to continue to build on and develop traditional knowledge during these times of change. As Kawagley (2008) states, In my area we used to use the alder leaves coming out to tell us when the smelts are going to be coming and just when they are beginning to break out the [King] salmon will be here, then the chum salmon, and then the silver salmon when it is completely leafed out. Hey, but that’s not applicable anymore because summer comes a month early, and spring comes a month early, and so that affects us. And so something, a sense-maker, that we have depended on for a long, a very long time, all of a sudden is no

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longer; useless. So we’ve got to find out the process for generating new knowledge, something that is more applicable.╯.╯. . We’ve got to generate new ways of coming up with natural sense-makers. Kawagley’s emphasis here is on the process inherent in traditional knowledge. In many indigenous communities, the traditional knowledge that is currently being passed down is more often the substance (knowledge and skills handed down over generations) rather than knowledge of the process (forming knowledge through practical engagement with the environment) of generating or modifying traditional knowledge. Both of these traditions are required to construct a body of knowledge that will help best deal with the changing environment (Fox 2002). Oral traditions are about more than just skills and signs, however. They are also about learning the appropriate rules of behavior for the culture (Oleksa 2005). The world of indigenous peoples is a changing and changeable one, influenced by the ceremonies that honor the cycles of the world: sunrises and sunsets, the phases of the moon, the cycle of the seasons, and the spirits of plant, animal, earth, and river. Rites of renewal are performed to honor the spirit of life, to provide reciprocity in the form of ceremony, storytelling, dance, or song. Renewal revives, respects, resurrects, and reveres relationships with the world. Many indigenous peoples believe that if they break their compacts with the animate world, they will surely suffer the consequences (Ferguson 2005). In the Yupiaq pre-contact tradition, these rites and rules of behavior were generally kept by the shaman, or spiritual leader, of the community. However, the absence of practicing shamans in Yupiaq country today poses a quandary in this time of change: And most assuredly, I really believe that we are at a disadvantage right now because we don’t have practicing shamans that can go into the natural world, go into the spiritual world, to find some answers. It makes it more important that we teach youngsters their own language and their own cultural ways, as well as encourage and nurture those youngsters that want to go into the sciences. (Kawagley 2008) Using a complementary blend of Native and western sciences, Kawagley hopes that the younger generations of Natives can glean the appropriate behaviors for working with the new plant and animal spirits coming into the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. “Yeah, we are in for some tough times. We are going to have to come up with a lot of new rituals and ceremonies to fit the times” (Kawagley 2008). But before they can develop the rituals and ceremonies needed to establish respectful,

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reciprocal relationships, there will have to be a healing of the self that brings the human, natural, and spiritual realms into balance (Kawagley 2002).

Promote Healing Many indigenous peoples, especially in Alaska, are still dealing with extensive grief from Yuut Tuqurpallratni, the Great Death, which resulted from the influenza pandemic of the early 1900s (Napoleon 1996). This pandemic destroyed families and even entire villages throughout Alaska. The widespread shock and grief has affected multiple generations with what has been described as a form of cultural post-traumatic stress disorder (Becker 2008). Kawagley (2008) feels that this disruption may be even worse for the Yupiaq because they have not recovered as a people from the trauma of the Great Death: Most of us are not healed. We haven’t repaired ourselves, because we haven’t brought closure to our griefs, especially griefs of my ancestors, my grandparents, of the terrific loss of life. And here it is, there is going to be more grief as a result of the climate change. Because the cold made everything about me, and once that is gone, boy, that is going to wreak havoc among my own mind, my own self. In his book Yuuyaraq: The Way of the Human Being, Napoleon (1996) promotes the use of the traditional talking circle as a way of dealing with the grief that is lingering from the Great Death. Kawagley (2008) believes that something similar should be established within communities for dealing with the losses associated with climate change: The same thing with seals, which we’ve depended on for so long. We have to hunt so long for them, for meat, for clothing, for seal oil—oh boy, seal oil! And what about some of the elders and elders-to-be in the near future, when all of a sudden they only see the seals on TV and they get hungry for .╯.╯. “oh boy, I remember when I used to have dried seal meat with seal oil, and my lady would be scraping to tan the sealskin to make hats and boots and things like that.” There [are] going to be a few, I would think, that will feel a loneliness, a depression, because of that. And so we may have to maybe set up a place where they can meet and talk about these changes and losses of the seal and all that means, as

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an example. I can somehow foresee some grief meetings to address those and help people to get over that and find a replacement, find a replacement for whatever they find all of a sudden gone. Talking circles, or other traditional methods of emotional and spiritual healing, are critical to provide individuals and communities with leaders who are able to guide us through the changes ahead.

Be Agile and Adaptive Leaders Indigenous peoples are living in an era that is both complex and uncertain. They need to develop and nurture leaders who can meet the physical, economic, and sociocultural challenges resulting from climate change. These leaders are needed in all walks of life. According to Mervyn Tano of the International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management (IIIRM), indigenous peoples need agile leaders “to help unravel complex problems, to introduce a degree of certainty, and to facilitate the kind of decision-making required to not only survive, but to thrive” (Tano 2006). He describes agile leaders as those who • • • •

Realize that they exist in an era of permanent change Are creative thinkers with a deep sense of purpose Have a broad repertoire of behaviors and experience to bring to bear Are adaptive and resilient to changing situations

These leaders need to be well versed in western science and management, but they must also be thoroughly grounded in their Native language, culture, and traditions (Kawagley 2008). They must see the value in both Native and western science, see the complementary uses of the two, and use both methods appropriately as the basis of true adaptive management (Tano 2006). Agile leaders must work from a strong foundation in their culture and accept only those values and beliefs from the outside world that they deem to be good and necessary. They must adopt those things that will strengthen indigenous values, beliefs, and traditions (Kawagley 2008). These agile leaders must build bridges between the western and indigenous worldviews (Tano 2006), but they must build those bridges on indigenous terms and from an indigenous place of power (Kawagley 2008). Only then can they safely weather the coming storm. While such leaders are few and far between, examples of such leadership do exist in Alaska. Alaska Native community leaders such as Tony Weyiouanna of Shishmaref and Stanley Tom of Newtok serve as examples of agile leadership in

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their efforts to relocate their villages due to climate change impacts. They are working to ensure that the relocation process and new village layouts are consistent with the values and traditions of their specific cultures.

Conclusion Global climate is changing. Even if global societies were to completely stop the emissions of all greenhouse gases today, the cycle has started and we have no choice but to see it through. Indigenous peoples will be adrift on a sea of change, and those changes will be painful; there is no getting around that. Their lands will change, as will the neighbors that they share the land with, and those changes will affect their very selves. They will at times feel lost, betrayed, and perhaps resentful at the colonizing societies who have caused the changes that they must now deal with. But indigenous peoples have faced changes in their environment, as well as social and cultural upheaval, before and have survived. Indigenous peoples can have confidence in their ability to adapt because they have done so since the Distant Time. They have survived because they passed down their stories, recognized the value in those lessons, helped and healed each other through the changes, and have had leaders who could adapt to the chaos of changing situations. Through such actions and traditions, indigenous peoples will continue to adapt and survive the current changing sense of place.

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CANA. 2006. Indigenous communities. Climate Action Network Australia 2006 (cited October 30, 2008). Available from http://www.cana.net.au/socialimpacts/australia/ indigenous.html Canellos, G. 2007. Climate change: The Denali Commission Perspective. Juneau. Alaska Climate Impact Assessment Commission. Chakrabarti, O. 2007. Indigenous peoples, indigenous voices. New York: United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Peoples. Deloria, V., Jr. 1988. Custer died for your sins: An Indian manifesto. Oklahoma City: University of Oklahoma Press. Deloria, V., Jr., and D. R. Wildcat. 2001. Power and place: Indian education in America. Golden, CO: Fulcrum Publishing. Dickson, D., B. Beardsley, and R. James. 2007. Alaska Native press briefing calls on Congress to protect Native cultures from impacts of oil and gas development in northern Alaska. Washington DC: Pacific Environment. Ferguson, E. 2005. Einstein, sacred science, and quantum leaps: A comparative analysis of western science, Native science, and quantum physics paradigm. Native American Studies, University of Lethbridge, Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. Fox, S. 2002. These are things that are really happening: Inuit perspectives on the evidence and impacts of climate change in Nunavut. In The Earth is faster now: Indigenous observations of Arctic environmental change. Edited by I. Krupnik and D. Jolly. Fairbanks, AK: Arctic Research Consortium of the United States. General Accounting Office (GAO). 2003. Alaska Native villages: Most are affected by flooding and erosion, but few qualify for federal assistance. Washington DC: US General Accounting Office. Houser, S., V. Teller, M. MacCracken, R. Gough, and P. Spears. 2001. Potential consequences of climate variability and change for Native peoples and homelands. In Climate change impacts on the United States: The potential consequences of climate variability and change. Edited by N.A.S. Team. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IPCC. 2007. Climate change 2007: Synthesis report. Geneva, Switzerland: Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, United Nations Environment Programme. Jones, M. E., and J. Hunter. 2003. Enshrining indigenous knowledge in the national science curriculum: Issues arising from the Maori case. Paper read at RSCD Conference— Politics of the Commons: Articulating Development and Strengthening Local Practice, July 11–14, 2003, at Chiang Mai University. Kawagley, A. O. 2002. Alaska Native education research: Reaching into the profound silence of self. Paper read at International Arctic Social Sciences Association, May 1995, at Rovaniemi, Finland. Kawagley, A. O. 2006. A Yupiaq worldview: A pathway to ecology and spirit. Second Edition. Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press.

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Kawagley, A. O. 2008. Interview: The effects of climate change on the Yupiaq. Fairbanks, AK, November 22, 2008. Killsback, L. 2006. Evahvete Hoheta “hanestse”: Oral traditions in the first steps toward decolonization. Paper read at 48th Annual Conference of the Western Social Science Association, April 19–22, 2006, at Phoenix, AZ. Krupnik, I., and D. Jolly (eds.). 2002. The Earth is faster now: Indigenous observations of Arctic environmental change. Fairbanks, AK: Arctic Research Consortium of the United States. MacCracken, M., E. Barron, D. Easterling, B. Felzer, and T. Karl. 2001. Scenarios for climate variability and change. In Climate change impacts on the United States: The potential consequences of climate variability and change. Edited by N.A.S. Team. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Maynard, N. G. (ed.). 1998. Final report: Native peoples–Native homelands climate change workshop. Albuquerque, NM: US Global Climate Change Program. Napoleon, H. 1996. Yuuyaraq: The way of the human being. Edited by E. Madsen. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Knowledge Network. NUIFC. 2008. Urban Indian America: The status of American Indian and Alaska Native children and families today. Seattle, WA: National Urban Indian Family Coalition. Oleksa, M. J. 2005. Another culture/another world. Juneau: Alaska Association of School Boards. Parson, E. A., L. Carter, P. Anderson, B. Wang, and G. Weller. 2001. Potential consequences of climate variability and change for Alaska. In Climate change impacts on the United States: The potential consequences of climate variability and change. Edited by N.A.S. Team. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Redman, S. 2008. Shaping identity and “Place” in Australian indigenous housing. In Berkley prize series. Berkeley: University of California, Berkeley. Rosen, Y. 2004. Alaska Natives say warming trend imperils villages. Anchorage, AK: Thomson Reuters. Tano, M. 2006. Developing agile tribal leaders and agile tribal institutions to adaptively manage and mitigate the impacts of global climate change in Indian country. Denver, CO: International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management. Tapley, B. 2003. Sense of place in the Pilbara. Perth, Australia: Institute for Sustainability and Technology Policy, Murdoch University. Tofa, M. 2006. Indigenous place and development. Denver, CO: International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management. Webb, J. R. 2003. Indigenous history of the Pilbara. Perth, Australia: Institute for Sustainability and Technology Policy, Murdoch University.

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Values of Nushagak Bay: Past, Present, and Future by todd radenbaugh and sarah wingert pederson

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ost of the research on ecosystem valuation has focused on broad regional to global scales, with emphasis on the influence of local culture (Colt 2001; Costanza 2006; Daly and Farley 2004; King and Mazzotta 2009; MEA 2003). The value of an ecosystem has a foundation in local culture, so to fully understand a local system one must explore how the inhabitants have come to view nature. This chapter focuses on the people and ecosystem of Nushagak Bay in southwest Alaska, a large, relatively unspoiled estuary covering about 1,409 square kilometers. Nushagak Bay hosts one of the world’s largest sustainable sockeye salmon fisheries. An estimated 10 million sockeye return each season; the 2008 return was 10,158,000 fish (ADF&G 2008). The harvest of salmon is important to the area commercially, but by many measures it is more important culturally. In this chapter, the concept of ecosystem valuation will be applied to the Nushagak Bay area. The significant role of local values such as respect for nature and hunter success (ANKN 2006) will be discussed. How past, present, and future values placed on the local ecosystem have changed, and the factors influencing those changes, will also be explored.

Hierarchies Since natural systems are hierarchical (e.g., Radenbaugh 1998; Salthe 1985), scales become important when investigating system attributes. When discussing values of nature, change may occur at the smallest unit or individual level up to the broader unit of culture. At the scale of culture, perceptions are collective and broader,

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encompassing the processes and services of ecosystems (Gobster et al. 2007). Generally, any broad changes in culture and ecosystems take place within time frames greater than a generation. Therefore, adaptation (by biota and individuals) goes unnoticed by individuals in the near term. Further, the interplay between ecosystems and culture often creates interdependent and coevolving networks within the broad ecosystem (Gobster et al. 2007; Nassauer 1995; Radenbaugh 2005). This is a dynamic notion that carries beyond the concept that when ecosystems change, culture adapts.

Nushagak Bay Unlike many regions in North America, the land, rivers, and estuaries of Nushagak Bay are still unspoiled and naturally productive (Fig. 2.5.1). The estuary’s present health is a consequence of two major social-ecological factors: historically low human population densities (0.06 per square kilometer) and a culture dependent and linked with the biota. This dependence has led the local culture to adopt patterns of stewardship that have kept the ecosystem healthy, even at times of extrinsic threats. In this region, the majority of human history has been dominated by a Yup’ik culture in which environmental stewardship was believed necessary for the continued healthy coexistence of humans and nature (Kawagley 1995). Since the mid-1800s, globalization, consumerism, and climate change have been altering the socioeconomic and ecological systems, yet the healthy quality of nature remains. Humans have always influenced ecosystems, but increasing evidence has shown that humans can dominate and indeed negatively overwhelm the way ecosystems function (MEA 2003; Vitousek et al. 1997). This has not yet happened in Nushagak Bay to any extreme, as its inhabitants are still dependent on the ecosystem’s services such as the provision of fish and pure water. However, not all of the ecosystem’s services are fully valued equally. Understanding how a culture has valued and currently values the local ecosystem will help in predicting how people might value it in the future and whether these values are causing damage to the ecosystem.

Physical Geography and Ecology of Nushagak Bay From a physical geographic perspective, the Nushagak estuary is new. It was formed fewer than five thousand years ago as a result of melting Pleistocene ice and rising sea level, which drowned and eroded the mouths of the Nushagak, Wood, Snake, and Igushik Rivers (Kaufman et al. 1996). By far, the largest inputs of water and sediment come from the Nushagak River followed by the Wood, Igushik, and

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Figure 2.5.1. Nushagak Bay, Alaska.

Snake Rivers. Within the bay, tides play a dominant role in shaping the geomorphology of the shorelines, channels, and deltaic plains (Fig. 2.5.2). The shallow waters of eastern Bristol Bay also help to define Nushagak Bay by protecting the region from large waves that can be generated in the Bering Sea. Five species of Pacific salmon pass through the estuary to their spawning grounds up the river systems. Chinook (king) enter first in late May and early June, followed by sockeye (red), chum (dog), coho (silver), and pink (humpy) with variation in run times. The two most locally valued species are Chinook and sockeye.

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Chinook are the largest salmon and are valued for subsistence use and by sport anglers. Sockeye is the most abundant species in the estuary, highly valued by the commercial fishing industry and for subsistence use. Each spring, as the air and water temperatures warm and river discharge increases with runoff, biological productivity also increases in Nushagak Bay. Early June sees the first Chinook salmon returning from the Pacific Ocean via Bristol Bay. As the summer progresses, water temperature warms further, more nutrients flow in from rivers, and the estuary responds. An increase of phytoplankton is followed by large numbers of amphipods and crangon shrimp (which end the summer in large swarms). By mid-June, the keystone species, sockeye salmon, starts returning in the millions, bringing with them marine protein and nutrients. By mid-summer, the bay supports large numbers of invertebrates (i.e., shrimp and amphipods) and finfish (i.e., starry flounder and smelt). These local populations, along with the returning salmon, feed large pods of beluga whales that in turn are fed on by orca farther out in the estuary. In summer, Nushagak Bay also serves as a nursery to millions of salmon smolts before they head back out to the Pacific Ocean as adults. During the summers of 2007–2009, the Bristol Bay Environmental Science Lab conducted trawling studies of Nushagak Bay. These studies suggest that the bay can be subdivided into at least three habitat zones based on fauna, sediment, salinity, and tidal current velocity (Fig. 2.5.2). In the upper estuary, the average surface salinity is 5 ppt. Even at depth (10 meters), salinity is rarely found to be above 15 ppt. Due to the strong influence of the rivers as well as water from the Kvichak River to the east, the bay is dominated by freshwater inputs and freshwater-tolerant species. It is not until a few kilometers south of the Etolin Point and Cape Constantine that more marine species assemblages are encountered (Ormseth, NMFS, personal communication). Another factor that defines Nushagak Bay is the high turbidity, especially in the upper estuary zone (Fig. 2.5.2), with summer average turbidity measured at 200 NTU. Thus, the bay is characterized by low salinity with a high silt and fine sand sediment load. The benthic species diversity in Nushagak Bay has a Shannon Diversity (H′) value of 1.54, ranking it below similar subarctic estuaries such as Ungava Bay, near Labrador, and Lower Herring Bay in Prince William Sound where the Shannon Diversity values are H′=2.11 and H′=2.5, respectively ( Jewett et al. 2001; Stewart et al. 1985). The lower diversity is most likely due to the low salinity and high turbidity of Nushagak Bay. The greatest sampling effort has been within the upper and middle reaches of the bay, well within the riverine and upper estuarine habitat zones. Common species include rainbow trout, smelt, starry flounder, bay shrimp, and two species of amphipod. Less commonly we encounter lamprey eels, juvenile salmon, eelpouts, and sticklebacks.

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Figure 2.5.2. Nushagak Bay geography with 2007–2008 trawling tracks and areas of major estuary zones based on sediments and fauna.

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The biotic interplay occurs at several spatial and temporal scales and determines the estuary’s health and resilience. When one component is changed or another is added, primary or secondary effects often occur. Such ecosystem-level change can occur at a large scale (e.g., the Exxon Valdez oil spill) or through cumulative effects of small-scale impacts (e.g., introduction of single family homes in the Matanuska-Susitna Valley). In both cases, the end result is an ecosystem-level change. Such ecosystem-level change is becoming common worldwide, as witnessed in the Chesapeake Bay, Great Lakes, and the Aral Sea (MEA 2003; Vitousek et al. 1997). Further, because estuaries receive inputs from both marine and freshwater systems, they serve as indicators of ecological health for a region (Cederholm et al. 1999; Costanza et al. 1993; Kelly and Levin 1986). However, cultural history has significant influences on the ecological health of estuaries because the ways in which estuaries are used and abused often reflect their perceived value. Therefore, to maintain ecosystem health at the broad scale it is important to understand the cultural history and the ecological role of species.

Cultural Values in the Nushagak Bay Region Nushagak Bay has been a place of resource use since the first travelers came to the region about four thousand years ago. The rich ecosystem has sustained humans from the early Yup’ik settlements to the towns of today. Since the late 1890s, the Nushagak watershed has witnessed the growing influences of globalization, consumerism, and climate change, each of which has rapidly altered the socio-economic and ecological systems of the region. The potential introduction of multibilliondollar industries, such as industrial fishing, oil and gas exploration, and mining, along with the current industries of commercial fishing and nature/game outfitting, bring environmental challenges. To maintain the health of Nushagak Bay, many residents see value in merging traditional knowledge with western scientific practice. To do this requires maintaining access to subsistence resources (Table 2.5.1) while exploring the best uses (or nonuse) of nonrenewable resources. Table 2.5.1 lists the most important renewable subsistence resources used by residents of the Nushagak Bay area (Radenbaugh and Fox 2007). The food items listed have been important for communities throughout every historical period, illustrating the major role of subsistence foods. In spite of all the cultural changes occurring since the early Yup’ik occupancy of the area, these foods are still valued and help define the bay’s culture. Elaborate traditional annual calendars are used to illustrate the yearly timing of seasonal subsistence activities. The use of traditional knowledge has helped residents maintain access to subsistence resources at the local scale while preserving the integrity of the broader ecosystem.

Indigenous Knowledge, Climate Change, and Sustainabilityâ•…101 Table 2.5.1. Examples of subsistence activities and foods with high values in the Nushagak watershed. Activity

Yup’ik species names

English species names

Fishing

neqet anerrluat naternarpiit iqalluat iqalluarpiit cuukviit

any fish trout halibut smelt herring pike

Hunting

tuntut issurit yaqulget

caribou seal birds

Picking Berries

atsalugpiat tan’gerpiit suraviit tumaglit

salmonberries blackberries blueberries cranberries

Greens

quagcit tarrnat mecuqerrlliq ceturqaaraat

sourdock wild celery wild celery fiddlehead ferns

In this time of rapid global change, nature’s role in supporting individuals and their culture is becoming more apparent. Traditional knowledge holds an important function and is being valued more than in the recent past as a record for local natural history and resource use (Sparrow et al. 2006). Scientists are gleaning data from oral histories that span hundreds of years (Kawagley 1995; Oozeva et al. 2004); Native people are using their western education to help their communities adjust to an uncertain future; and scientists and Natives alike are coming to see their two worlds merge to promote local resilience. Communities surrounding Nushagak Bay are in need of a comprehensive valuation and ecosystem adaptation plan. This need is seen in public meetings such as the one that developed the Dillingham Comprehensive Plan, where planners and Nushagak elders called for preserving important traditional knowledge in regard to subsistence. (In 2009 and 2010, organizations that have discussed this type of planning include the Dillingham City Council and the Qayassiq Walrus Commission.) Across the Bristol Bay region there are concerns that subsistence values are being replaced with values that are dependent on nonrenewable resources (Radenbaugh and Fox 2007). One way to promote good stewardship and healthy ecosystems in rural Alaska is to teach traditional knowledge alongside modern scientific methods (Barnhardt 2005; Kawagley 1995).

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Changing Values Table 2.5.2 illustrates how the value of nature has shifted in Nushagak Bay as cultural changes continue to affect various traditions. From past to present, the value of nature has changed from being primarily a provider of natural subsistence resources to being a grab bag of resources that serve to produce commodities. The future view of nature seems to focus on the broader ecosystem and the goods and services it provides. However, management strategies to date focus generally on individual species and their use in subsistence or the local economy and not on the ecosystem. A brief description of the historical geography that formed the values is outlined below. The early Yup’ik period and the influence of Russian and European contact are discussed to contextualize the ways in which values have changed from one period to the next. Table 2.5.2. Changing values of the Nushagak Bay region, Alaska. Nature Valued as

Ecosystem Use

Scale of Management

Value Drivers

Past

provider

need-based subsistence

local: species

traditional knowledge

Present

commodity producer

commoditybased

regional: species

western science and consumerism

Future

provider and commodity producer

sustainable management

associations broad: whole ecosystems

western science and traditional knowledge

Past: Nature as Provider Early Yup’ik Period Human settlement of the Nushagak region took more than a thousand years as small bands of people moved across the Bering Land Bridge (along the coast and interior) by tracking a preferred climate, resource availability, and their curiosity. The earliest Nushagak inhabitants were most likely nomadic bands that moved into the region shortly after the land was deglaciated 4,000 to 5,000 years ago and used the region’s coastal areas, rivers, and lakes (TNWR 1986). Athabascan, Aleut, and Yup’ik hunters and fishers may have set up summer camp in the region, but eventually the Yup’ik bands settled and built villages. By 2,000 years ago, three

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different groups lived in eastern Bristol Bay, but it was the Aglegmiut Yup’ik who lived in the Nushagak area (VanStone 1967, 1972). Subsistence activities most likely dominated daily life through the harvesting of the abundant fish (e.g., salmon and trout) in summer and hunting of mammals (e.g., caribou, fur bearers, and marine mammals) in winter (VanStone 1967). These early peoples had an intimate relationship with the land and extensive knowledge of northern ecosystems. Nature and ingenuity provided all the necessary resources for survival (Table 2.5.2). As successful hunters and gatherers, the inhabitants saw nature as a provider and had an intimate knowledge of its workings at the finer scales. However, it is not known how much they understood about the complexities of broader scale ecosystem goods and services.

Russian Influence The Bristol Bay region first came to European attention in 1778 when Captain James Cook sailed into the bay on board the Resolution and gave it its present name. In the early 1800s, the Yup’ik living in the Nushagak region did not have prolonged contact with Europeans until a party of Russian-American Company employees from Kodiak Island were sent to explore the territory of Bristol Bay (VanStone 1972). As part of these explorations and to establish a fur trade, the Aleksandrovski Redoubt was established in 1818 on an eastern bluff in Nushagak Bay. It allowed the Russians to trade with interior regions from the Kuskokwim to Kvichak Rivers (VanStone 1967). Although the redoubt did not attract a large fur trade, it served as an important base for expeditions into the interior of southwest Alaska. Moreover, the redoubt gave the Bristol Bay region contact with Russian fur traders throughout the 1800s. This contact had profound influences on culture because it introduced the gradual cultural change from total reliance on subsistence resources (i.e., nature as provider) to international trade of raw or manufactured goods (i.e., commodity-based).

Present: Nature as a Commodity Rise of an Industrial Fishery In 1867 the United States purchased Alaska from Russia and took possession of Aleksandrovski Redoubt, renamed Nushagak, where the US Signal Corps built a weather station. After the Russian assets were sold, influence and contact with western ideas expanded. The US influence expanded the commercial fisheries in Nushagak Bay, rapidly replacing fur as the most important economic commodity. In 1882, the first documented fishing fleet and salting station operated at

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Kanulik, 2 miles north of Nushagak village (Unrau 1994). The next year the Arctic Packing Company of San Francisco set up the first salmon cannery and made its first pack of 400 cases of about 4,200 salmon (Moser 1898, 1902). This industry generally operated only a few months a year during the salmon runs. Power came from wind (for boats) and steam (for canneries), and there was a rapid influx of new ideas and technology in the region. The canneries often competed with each other during the short summer fishing season. This changed with the arrival of the Alaska Packers Association (APA) in 1892. APA amalgamated canneries across southwestern Alaska and Bristol Bay to exert economic and political control of the fishery (Unrau 1994). In the late 1880s, there were four operating canneries in Nushagak Bay, and by the end of the 1890s, there were canneries on the Naknek and Kvichak Rivers, all of which traded with the local populations. Throughout the early 1900s the APA dominated the Nushagak fishery. The bay seemed healthy and had high fish returns until the end of World War I in 1918, when only a few fish returned to the estuary as a result of overfishing likely due to the high prices and demand for canned salmon (Unrau 1994). This indicated the need for better resource management, exclusion of fish weirs, and establishment of escapement goals. However, the White Act passed by Congress in 1924 became a vain effort at fishery conservation (US Cong. 1924). In reality the act favored the big companies and worked against the development of small operators. The powerful salmon industry then pushed to enact regulations mandating that only sailboats could be used in Bristol Bay. This gave control of the fishery to the industry, as the sailboats were then moved in the strong tides through the use of cannery tugs (or monkey boats) and by anchoring scows for fish delivery. It was not until 1950 that individually owned power boats were allowed in Bristol Bay, and within three years, nearly all sailboats had been replaced by power boats. The rapid development of the bay’s commercial fisheries during the close of the nineteenth century had a significant influence on the culture and on how people valued nature. For many Native Alaskans, the fishing industry was their first exposure to the wage economy and working by the clock. With thousands of Scandinavians, other Europeans, and Asians, the fishery further helped in developing a commodity-based economy. The interaction of these populations made the region even more ethnically diverse. Most of these residents embraced the seasonal subsistence culture and simultaneously imparted aspects of their culture to the cultural mixing pot. With the growth of the commercial salmon fishery, some settlements grew while others declined. The village of Nushagak lost its title as bay’s capital to villages on the west side of the estuary, including a small cannery village at Snag Point, which later became Dillingham. Then in 1918 the influenza epidemic struck the region, killing many. The Kanakanak Hospital and its orphanage played an

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important role for the survivors and solidified a population center in Dillingham (Fig. 2.5.1). Although some influences of the early Yup’ik culture are still evident, the Russian period and the later cannery economy profoundly transformed values in Nushagak Bay. The economy and culture of Nushagak Bay have evolved to embrace capitalistic activities. Western science and technology were also viewed as the keys to extracting nature’s wealth (Table 2.5.2). The evolving culture blended traditional and western ideas and linked the economy with the global market. Although this period reduced the importance of traditional knowledge when valuing nature, replacing it with commodity-based knowledge, subsistence values remained strong.

Rise of Sustainable Management Nushagak Bay today is still diverse and the culture remains vibrant and dynamic. Dillingham, the economic hub, has a population of 2,466 (US Census 2000) and has all of the economic activities of a modern society. Although the poverty rate is higher than the national average, the use of nature’s wealth through subsistence activities is not included in these calculations. Much has changed in the region, but one thing that has not changed is the way communities value nature economically and culturally as it sustains a way of life. Since the 1940s, federal and state agencies, universities, industry groups, nongovernment organizations, and local fishermen and fisherwomen have come to play important roles in fisheries management by using partnerships and scientific methods to improve fisheries management techniques. By establishing strict salmon escapement goals and creating more diverse markets for fish products, science and technology have given fishers more control over the fishery. Nature as a commodity took an important turn in the 1990s with the establishment of the field of environmental economics. Costanza et al. (1997a) estimated the value of the world’s ecosystem services at over $3 trillion per year. They found that coastal environments, including estuaries such as Nushagak Bay, have disproportionately higher values of services (43% of the world’s ecosystem value) even though they cover only 6.3% of the planet. Thus, estuaries were shown to be among the most valuable geographic features on the planet, having a 1998 value of $10,378 per acre. Most of this value is due to important ecosystem services, such as nutrient cycling, as wetlands and estuaries help turn nitrogen and phosphorus into the carbohydrate food on which all life is dependent. Using numbers from Costanza et al. (1997b), the 1,409 square kilometers of Nushagak Bay and the tidal portions of its major tributaries may perform services worth approximately $2.76 billion annually. Grass beds and wetlands associated with the region push that number even higher.

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Potential Future: Nature as Provider and Commodity Nushagak Bay is valued by non-subsistence users primarily as a commercial fishing ground, but it is also a nature and sport tourism destination. To date, the Nushagak ecosystem has proved to be able to provide all these activities with no apparent loss in ecosystem function. The robustness of the region has been attributed to the health of the watershed, which is a result of the variability of spawning habitats and the biocomplexity of the life history strategies of salmon populations (Hilborn et al. 2003). These factors have allowed the system as a whole to adjust to biophysical changes such as climatic and oceanic conditions, in addition to the described changes in culture. Thus, the diversity of the Nushagak region has been the primary mechanism for ecosystem sustainability and health (Hilborn et al. 2003). Any loss of habitat, species, genetic, or cultural diversity could result in less complexity and diversity, lowering the integrity of the broader ecosystems and making the region less resilient to ecological predicted global-level changes (Schindler et al. 2005). A growing number of local efforts, such as the Nushagak-Mulchatna WoodTikchik Land Trust, Nunamta Aulukestai (Caretakers of the Land), Nushagak Watershed Council, Dillingham Comprehensive Plan, and UAF Bristol Bay Campus Ecosystem Health Initiative, place values on ecosystem services, especially in the fisheries and energy sectors. Talk of building sockeye hatcheries and diesel power plants no longer dominates discussions of economic growth; rather, efforts are now starting to include more sustainable management practices. Furthermore, discussions of values often blend information from both western science and traditional knowledge. Both types of knowledge contribute complementary data from different perspectives. Western science tends toward a reductionist model and subdivides nature into disciplines. Yup’ik knowledge examines generalities so as to concentrate on the broader scales. One example of this is the Yup’ik annual subsistence calendar. The combined use of western science and traditional knowledge has shown to have management benefits (Huntington 2000). Together they attempt to improve resource management by using information that transcends scales and cultures, leading to better decisions. Environmental issues exist in Nushagak Bay at and above the local level. For example, local threats, such as unplanned growth due to an increasing population, can become cumulative. Furthermore, the sustainability of the salmon fishery could be easily reversed if the complex heterogeneity of the ecosystem is altered by catastrophic human influences such as an oil spill. Lastly, large nonrenewable resource industries with significant ecological footprints could jeopardize the region’s health if all negative impacts to ecosystem health are not mitigated. The twenty-first century brings to Nushagak Bay many possibilities, including introduction of multibillion-dollar nonrenewable resource industries (e.g., oil and gas development and

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mining) along with climate and ocean chemistry changes (IPCC 2007). These changes will present challenges to the ecosystem. To maintain the health and sustainability of Nushagak Bay, many residents see merit in merging their traditional knowledge with western scientific practice. This requires maintaining close connections to subsistence resources by scientifically exploring the best use (or nonuse) of renewable and nonrenewable resources. Monitoring the ways in which resources are used may allow residents, resource managers, and stakeholders to adapt to the shifting patterns in the climate, habitats, and economy while maintaining a sustainable culture and healthy ecosystem. The future health of Nushagak Bay is threatened by a host of activities and influences that span several ecological levels. The small-scale systems have proved to be resilient enough to coexist with the level of current growth. However, future cultural and ecological change to Nushagak Bay may come not from local change but from alterations in the larger system. These may include processes such as globalization (in the form of unsustainable development, catastrophic toxic dumping, and mass tourism) or climate change (in the form of temperature rises, nitrogen loss, and ocean acidification). Therefore, sustaining culture and nature at the local level will require monitoring systems at a global scale.

Final Thoughts The ways in which a culture responds to nature depends on experiences on both the individual and the community level. A local culture can be influenced by shared experiences that develop into a collective consciousness. The range of experiences can include subsistence hunting in a wilderness, witnessing the Milky Way, tending to gardens, and walking city streets. So the local culture’s connectedness within ecosystems is a result of long-term decisions. Because of this, the decisions made by one generation often influence the next generation’s understanding and perception of nature. If individuals have fewer experiences in nature, the opportunity to know their connection within nature may be diminished. The decline of ecosystem health begins when a culture starts to perceive itself as separate from nature and the vital functions it provides. This has been occurring for thousands of years and is characteristic of many places today. However, the regions that are the healthiest generally have residents who understand their direct connection to ecosystem function. While other regions are trying to renew their relationship with nature, that relationship has never left the Nushagak region. Now to complete the picture, it is time for residents of Nushagak Bay to fully embrace the concept of sustainability and better understand their connection to the rest of the world.

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Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). 2007. The physical basis of climate change. Working group I, fourth assessment report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jewett, S. C., T. A. Dean, R. O. Smith, and A. Blanchard. 2001. Exxon Valdez oil spill: Impacts and recovery in the soft bottom benthic community in and adjacent to eelgrass beds. Marine Ecology Progress Series 185, 59–83. Kaufman, D., S. Forman, P. Lea, and C. Wobus. 1996. Age of pre-late-Wisconsin glacialestuarine sedimentation, Bristol Bay, Alaska. Quaternary Research 45, 59–72. Kawagley, A. O. 1995. A Yupiaq worldview: A pathway to ecology and spirit. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press. Kelly, J. R., and S. A. Levin. 1986. A comparison of aquatic and terrestrial nutrient cycling and production processes in natural ecosystems, with reference to ecological concepts of relevance to some waste disposal issues. In The role of the oceans as a waste disposal option, edited by G. Kullenberg. Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Reidel, 165–203. King, D. M., and M. J. Mazzotta. 2009. Ecosystem valuation. US Department of Agriculture, Natural Resources Conservation Service and National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration. Available at http://www.ecosystemvaluation.org/. MEA. 2003. Millennium ecosystem assessment, ecosystems and human well-being: A framework for assessment. Washington DC: Island Press. Moser, J. F. 1898. The salmon and salmon fisheries of Alaska: Report of the operations of the United States Fish Commission Steamer Albatross for the year ending June 30, 1898. Bulletin of the US Fish Commission. Vol. XVIII. Washington DC: US Government Printing Office. Moser, J. F. 1902. The salmon and salmon fisheries of Alaska: Report of the Alaskan Salmon Investigations of the United States Fish Commission Streamer Albatross in 1900 and 1901. Bulletin of the US Fish Commission. Vol. XXI. Washington DC: US Government Printing Office. Nassauer, J. I. 1995. Culture and changing landscape structure. Landscape Ecology 10, 229–237. Oozeva, C., G. Noongwook, G. Noongwook, C. Alowa, and I. Krupnik. 2004. Watching ice and weather our way/Sikumengllu Eslamengllu Esghapalleghput. Washington DC: Arctic Studies Center, Smithsonian Institution. Radenbaugh, T. A. 1998. Saskatchewan’s prairie plant assemblages: A hierarchical approach. Prairie Forum 23, 31–47. Radenbaugh, T. A. 2005. Managing changing landscapes on the northern prairies: Using functional groups and biotic guilds. In Managing changing prairie landscapes, edited by T. A. Radenbaugh and G. C. Sutter. Regina, SK: Canadian Plains Research Center, 147–159.

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Radenbaugh, T. A., and M. Fox. 2007. Bridging Native culture and environmental science: Changing higher education methods in the Bristol Bay region of southwestern Alaska. Canadian Aboriginal Science and Technology Society, Calgary, Alberta. Salthe, S. N. 1985. Evolving hierarchical systems: Their structure and representation. New York: Columbia University Press. Schindler, D., D. Rogers, M. Scheuerell, and C. Abrey. 2005. Effect of changing climate on zooplankton and juvenile sockeye salmon growth in southwestern Alaska. Ecology 86(1), 198–209. Sparrow, E. B., J. C. Dawe, and F. S. Chapin III. 2006. Communication of Alaskan boreal science with broader communities. In Alaska’s changing boreal forest. Edited by F. S. Chapin, M. W. Oswood, K. Van Cleve, L. A. Viereck, and D. L. Verbyla. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stewart, P. L., P. Pocklington, and R. A. Cunjak. 1985. Distribution, abundance and diversity of benthic macroinvertebrates on the Canadian continental shelf and slope of Southern Davis Strait and Ungava Bay. Arctic 38, 281–291. Togiak National Wildlife Refuge (TNWR). 1986. US Fish and Wildlife Service Togiak National Wildlife Refuge, Final Comprehensive Conservation Plan, Wilderness Review and Environmental Impact Statement. US Fish and Wildlife Service, Region 7, Anchorage, AK. Unrau, H. D. 1994. Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska: Historic resource study. US Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Anchorage, AK. US Census. 2000. US Census Bureau, http://factfinder.census.gov/. US Congress. 1924. An Act for the Protection of Fisheries in Alaska. 68th Cong. 1st sess., H.R. 8143. Congressional Record no. 204, June 6, chs. 270–272. VanStone, J. W. 1967. Eskimos of the Nushagak River: An ethnographic history. Seattle: University of Washington Press. VanStone, J. W. 1972. Nushagak: An historic trading center in southwestern Alaska. Fieldiana Anthropology, Anthropological Series Volume 62. Chicago: Field Museum of Natural History. Vitousek, P. M., H. A. Mooney, J. Lubchenco, and J. M. Melillo. 1997. Human domination of Earth’s ecosystems. Science 277(5325), 494–499.

2.6

Food Systems, Environmental Change, and Community Needs in Rural Alaska by s. craig gerlach, philip a. loring, amy turner, and david e. atkinson

F

ood systems provide a useful window through which to examine the direct, indirect, and cumulative impacts of a changing climate and environment on individual and community health and viability (Ericksen et al. 2010; Loring and Gerlach 2009). Rural livelihoods in the high-latitude North are tightly connected to climate, weather, and ecosystems. Northern people have relied for millennia on the landscape for their food through hunting, herding, gathering, fishing, and small-scale gardening. Rural residents regularly observe and reflect on changes to the landscapes and seascapes that provide their livelihoods; each trip across the river or sea ice is an experiment—a test of several hypotheses regarding hydrology, weather, seasonality (the timing of seasons), and the distribution and abundance of fish and game. Unexpected changes and unprecedented environmental conditions are easily noticed, including changes to the distribution and abundance of wild fish and game or to the frequency and magnitude of forest fires, landslides, river and coastal erosion, lake and landscape drying, and permafrost degradation. When combined with social and economic change, climate, weather, and changes in the biophysical system interact in a complex web of feedbacks and interactions to make rural life challenging. This is especially true where communities strive to rely on country foods for subsistence, cultural identity, and individual and community health and self-reliance. However, climate change is not the first or even most important challenge facing people and communities of the North (Keskitalo 2008; Lynch and Brunner 2007). High and rising costs of food and fuel, dramatic and rapid changes to the landscape and weather, fisheries closures and other management actions that keep

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freezers and smokehouses empty, social and political debates and conflicts regarding the development of land, and troubling health trends such as increases in diabetes and heart disease, depression, and alcoholism are examples of the many difficult issues that rural Alaskans grapple with every day. Each of these challenges may indeed be linked to climate change in various ways, and local people understand this perfectly well. Nevertheless, people need to act in response to these challenges now, and it is highly unlikely that the most effective, place-based solutions to problems such as food insecurity, diabetes, cancer, and a lack of job opportunities will have anything to do with the primary or even secondary drivers of global climatic change. In this chapter we take an ecological approach to exploring the pathways by which ecosystem, political, social, and economic change can interact. We use the Alaska food system as a lens to show how rapid change in any one or all of these dimensions can undermine community health and stability. We focus on rural Alaska, situating the politically charged and value-laden concepts of “rural” and “subsistence” within the political ecology of the entire Alaska food system. The emphasis is on linking local, regional, and globally scaled influences on the food security of rural households. The operating premise is that Alaska’s rural and urban communities are tightly connected and possibly over-connected. The dependence created by this connection can (1) render rural communities vulnerable to disruptions and fluctuations in food, fuel, commodity, and transportation costs and (2) create an influx of impacts for urban communities as rural residents cope with food and economic insecurity. A part of our discussion rests on the idea that the legal definition of subsistence has never captured the reality or importance of the role played by country foods in the livelihoods of Alaska Natives, nor has it effectively addressed the realities of changing Alaska Native foodways and food traditions. While the current institutional and regulatory framework has at times protected access to country foods to be sure, it has constrained and undermined it as well. Political rhetoric about rural, urban, and subsistence priorities notwithstanding, we suggest that the current subsistence paradigm falls short of providing any real institutional support for rural Alaskans who are trying to maintain or enhance food security and health through the promotion of self-reliant economies based on country foods. We end with some thoughts about possible responses to change that might allow communities to regain control over access to land and country food resources, community health, and self-reliance. These thoughts are not ours alone but have emerged through long collaboration with people in rural Alaska communities, especially along the Yukon River and in some Bering Sea coastal and near-coastal communities where much of our recent work has been done.

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The Political Ecology of Food Systems Food links household and regional economies to larger economic and ecological landscapes through an array of functional connections and dependencies. Borrowing from Goodman and colleagues (2000), we define the food system as the total range of activities, social institutions, material inputs and outputs, cultural beliefs, and traditions within a social group that interact in the production, distribution, and consumption of food. A political ecology approach to the study of food systems begins by identifying place-based food–culture–environment interactions. From there it proceeds to an integrated understanding of emergent biophysical, social, political, and economic relationships at multiple scales (Ericksen et al. 2010). Points of interest include the nutritional, physiological, and cultural aspects of what people eat at home and in their communities, including how people celebrate in large and small ways through sharing and culinary traditions. The way in which people relate to food, how food relates to individual and community health, and how food is connected to the land through ecosystem services are all key elements of a food systems ecology approach. Knowing how and why people make decisions about what to consume, how much wild food is obtained from the country, how much is home grown and prepared in season, and how much industrially produced and processed food is transported long distances for commercial distribution is a first approximation of a food system’s complexity. Each connection along the food chain—the linkages from food procurement to food choice and consumption, production, and distribution through social and economic networks—can provide a window into these issues. Food choice, for instance, is shaped by cultural preference and availability as well as by ecological and economic opportunities and constraints. Food choice also reflects availability and access, knowledge or the lack thereof about the health benefits and risks of nutritionally high- and low-quality foods, and an interest in where food comes from and how it is harvested or produced. Through design or expedience, food choice also reveals the extent to which individuals and communities have personal and financial control over what they eat. At times, however, social, political, and economic forces play a stronger role than does demand in determining consumer choice and/or which foods are placed on the shelves of the grocery store. Local, regional, and global food systems are situated in social, cultural, economic, historical, political, and nutritional contexts (McMichael 2000). Feedbacks and interactions in the food system can strengthen or weaken household and community viability through diet and health (Sundkvist et al. 2005). For example, a community that depends heavily on external inputs for a secure food supply is vulnerable to even the smallest perturbations or disruptions in economics and

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transportation (Kloppenburg et al. 1996). Where local food production is under even limited local control, however, a measure of community self-reliance and independence becomes possible (Hinrichs et al. 1998; Kloppenburg and Lezberg 1996). Thus, food security and food sovereignty are topics of discussion throughout Alaska, the North, and wherever people are concerned about ecosystem and community sustainability.

The Alaska Food System The Alaska food system is unique and deserves some discussion. For millennia, Alaska foodways were based almost entirely on locally harvested subsistence “country” foods (Usher 1976), including (depending on region) sea mammals, ungulates, freshwater and saltwater fish, seasonally available waterfowl, formal and informal gardens, berries, and other plant resources. Long-standing patterns of land-use and landscape features demarcated general but flexible boundaries around each tribal group’s foodshed (Loring 2007).1 These foodways connected Alaska Natives in physical and cultural ways to the land and wildlife through activities such as food sharing and food preparation; the use of specific plant, animal, bird, and fish species; travel routes, harvest sites, and areas; and camps of modern and historical significance. Today, however, country foods make up only a fraction of what is consumed in the state. As of 2000, rural residents (who count for about one-third of the total population) consume only a pound per day of country foods, while urban residents (a designation that now includes most Alaska Natives in the state) consume a mere 22 pounds per year. Indeed, only 2% of the wild fish and game harvested in Alaska is consumed for subsistence; the rest is sold commercially and mostly as an export (Wolfe 2000). Alaska is not a significant agricultural producer. Although a small-scale agricultural contingent continues to grow in the state, estimates suggest that 95% of market foods in Alaska are imported (Paragi et al. 2010).2 For most Alaska Natives, whether living in rural or urban communities, country foods remain the preferred tradition. Still, the extent to which country foods are available and used varies quite significantly between age groups and from community to community even within the same region.3 To some degree, therefore, all communities in Alaska are connected to and dependent on the global industrial food system. Finding that food needs today are not as easily met with locally available wild food resources as they once were, many individuals in rural communities across Alaska now fill their cupboards with processed foods of diminished nutritional

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quality and cultural relevance. These foods must be purchased either from the meager selections available at village stores or from costly periodic provisioning trips to urban supply centers such as Anchorage, Fairbanks, or Juneau. This change from use of traditional foods to industrially produced ones is well described as the nutrition transition (Kuhnlein et al. 2004; Popkin and Gordon-Larsen 2004). Research continues to show that it comes with significant economic, physical, health, and psychosocial costs (see, e.g., Bersamin et al. 2007; Bjerregaard et al. 2004; Graves 2005), which can be quite difficult to mitigate during times of rapid social and ecological change (Wolsko et al. 2007).

A Note on “Rural” and “Urban” Alaska Food systems research often tends to emphasize rural or subsistence issues on the one hand (e.g., Ford et al. 2007; Nuttall et al. 2004; Theriault et al. 2005) and urban and commercial issues on the other (Grossman et al. 1994; Knapp 1997; Woodby et al. 2005), although there are some notable exceptions that attempt to integrate the two (e.g., Meadow et al. 2009). Problems emerge, however, when we overuse these categories either anecdotally or in legalistic ways (Pigg 1992). Countless important linkages exist between Alaska’s most populated centers and its remote communities. These linkages were established and made important by the movement of goods, and people, and other social and cultural transactions (Pickett et al. 2001; Tacoli 1998). When used without rigor, these terms can easily mask these realities, homogenizing places and peoples into imagined discrete “rural” and “urban” entities and limiting our ability to effectively understand the nuances of the food system. As noted, a majority (51%) of Alaska Natives in the state now live in urban places such as Anchorage and the Fairbanks North Star Borough (Goldsmith 2008), and trans-local social and economic linkages are common between families split across the Alaska landscape. Sharing and co-op style purchasing of food and other supplies are common (Loring 2007; Magdanz et al. 2002), and seasonal migration in and out of the rural areas for purposes of employment or subsistence activities is a widespread practice (Huskey et al. 2004; Martin et al. 2008). The trans-local economic linkages can be tenuous, however, as access to the urban centers from most bush communities is limited to rivers (barge), air transport, or snowmachine in winter. A few communities have access to seasonally maintained but often impassable dirt and gravel roads. Even where distance or travel costs are limiting factors, Alaska’s rural and urban places are still connected through social, cultural, and kinship relations, even though these connections at times prove increasingly difficult and expensive to sustain.

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Food Security under Stress Food security is the process by which a food system supports health in its various biophysical, social, and ecological dimensions. The most basic definitions of food security usually focus on whether or not the food system provides equitable physical and economic access to sufficient and safe foods (e.g., WFS 1996). The US Department of Agriculture reported that in 2008 more than 12% of Alaska households were food insecure, meaning that at some time during the year they had difficulty providing enough food for all members of their household. About 5% of those who were food insecure in Alaska were classified as having very low food security, meaning they consistently reduced their food intake or had disrupted eating patterns due to an inadequate supply of food. The report also states that a total of 29,400 households in Alaska experienced hunger, though it does not provide specific details regarding why they were hungry (USDA 2008). In the context that we use it here, however, food security is understood as describing more than a mere one-size-fits-all nutritional relationship. It incorporates matters such as the importance of certain foods, food choice, local definitions of hunger, uncertainty and worry about food safety or shortages, and any other psychosocial, sociocultural, or environmental stresses that result from the process of putting food on the table. Country foods and the country food lifestyle are known to provide numerous important protective and health-reinforcing factors for rural Alaskans. Country food is, in general, safer and more nutritious than store-bought foods (Gross et al. 2004; Price 1939), and hunting, fishing, and other traditional cultural activities are known to provide a primary source of beneficial physical activity (Samson and Pretty 2006). Research also shows that country foods offer protective factors against various salient health concerns such as diabetes and cancer (Bersamin et al. 2007; Ebbesson et al. 2005). Social and spiritual aspects of the country food lifestyle have also been shown to play an essential role in the maintenance of psychological and emotional well-being. It provides strength and resilience in times of uncertainty and reinforces individual health and community sustainability through activities such as food sharing and shared food preparation. The country food lifestyle also engages the use of specific plant, animal, bird, and fish species, travel routes, harvest sites and areas, and camps of modern and historical significance (Hassel 2006; Holthaus 2008). It is essential, therefore, that discussions of food security not overlook these important place-based dimensions. The implication of this argument is that there are likely far more Alaskans experiencing food insecurity than the already-too-high numbers noted above suggest. Most research suggests that there are rarely simple, single reasons behind food insecurity. Rather, it results from complex, synergistic interactions between a wide and disparate set of challenges. Regional and household vulnerabilities to external

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market shifts in the price or availability of imported foods and fuel (Martin et al. 2008); the multiple cumulative impacts of climate change and development of oil, natural gas, and minerals on the landscape and fisheries and game (National Research Council 2002; Wernham 2007); and environmental pollution including bioaccumulation of heavy metals ( Jewett and Duffy 2007) are all contributing factors. In Alaska and elsewhere in the North, challenges for the subsistence hunter or fisher are very different than they were even twenty years ago. The current economy of many rural residents and particularly Alaska Natives is often described as “mixed-subsistence,” wherein money is earned to provide for the supplies and tools needed for hunting and fishing. These include gas-driven vehicles such as boats, all-terrain vehicles (ATVs), and snowmachines, as well as the requisite fuel and parts for their maintenance. Time is also a scarce commodity, and many people are forced to make a choice between spending time on the land or earning the wages necessary to fund the hunt, keep fuel in their stoves, and keep cupboards full. We touch on some of these drivers in more detail below.

Regional Environmental Change A great many impacts related to climate change are already being seen in Alaska (Hinzman et al. 2005; Wendler and Shulski 2009). The retreat of seasonal sea ice; permafrost thaw and its myriad effects on rivers, lakes, and hydrology in general; changes in the timing of seasonal changes; and a modified forest fire regime are all examples of ongoing environmental changes being experienced. Successful country food harvests must be well tuned with the flow of the seasons, and any disruption can significantly alter the flow of human activities (Loring et al. 2010; McNeeley 2009). Slow changes associated with a warming climate (e.g., permafrost thawing and shifts in seasonality) (Hinzman et al. 2005), together with individual, sometimes abrupt or catastrophic impact events such as storms, flooding, and coastal erosion (Atkinson 2005; Hufford and Partain 2004), are significantly affecting the accessibility of wild food resources though impacts on hydrology, watershed structure, and landscape features across the state. The resulting changes in land cover, weather, and seasonality are significantly influencing flora and fauna, both spatially and temporally ( Juday et al. 1997; Tape 2010). Within the last two decades, and most intensely within the last four or five years, changes have been observed in the distribution and migration patterns of moose, ducks, and fish. These changes cannot be explained by either the culturally transmitted knowledge of local experts or by the textbook science of wildlife biologists and managers (McNeeley 2009; Moncrieff et al. 2009). Many of our Alaska Native collaborators cite observations that are consistent with forecast changes in phenology as a function of climate change.

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Examples are the gradual drying of the landscape and the disappearance of lakes as a result of permafrost degradation (Riordan et al. 2006). Sometimes these changes result in rapid catastrophic losses of lakes that are high in subsistence value, and sometimes the changes are more gradual with less immediate but still important impacts on the success or failure of the country food harvest.

Weather and Climate Changes in climate and weather are clearly related, though the importance of weather may be somewhat under-emphasized in the contemporary climate change discourse. Those who make a living on the land must cope with weather in the short run. Weather determines their ability to access traditional harvest or food production areas, and weather often determines the movement of wildlife. Weather might limit overland travel because of low visibility, for instance, or it might confine residents to their communities during critical subsistence periods. Weather also has an influence on sea ice, which in turn governs the life cycle and food web for many animals and plants that form the basis for survival (Bhatt et al. 2007; Hovelsrud et al. 2008). Severe weather and episodic extreme weather events, strong winds, freezing rain, and rain-on-snow can all affect the distribution and abundance of both marine and terrestrial animals. These conditions may also have impacts on the efficiency and efficacy of community infrastructure for food processing and storage such as fish drying racks, ice cellars and other meat storage facilities, smokehouses, and root cellars (Murray 2008). Sea ice serves to buffer and/or armor the coast against the impact of storms, limiting the degree and extent of damage (Atkinson 2005). Weather can also kill. Many hunters and fishers have lost their lives at sea when the weather turned unexpectedly and unpredictably. People’s ability or inability to read weather signs is changing, reflecting in part the fact that ecological changes are occurring in new and unexpected ways that are not necessarily coded in local knowledge (Krupnik and Jolly 2002), and also reflecting the regrettable reality of intergenerational loss of local knowledge in many communities. The result is that many hunters and fishers have to face increasing and often unknown risks when they venture out to make their living.

Market Food and Fuel Prices Food prices are generally higher in Alaska than in the contiguous United States, with the highest prices found in the most remote communities (CES 2009). Rural communities do receive assistance regarding the high price of food, with federal subsidies in place that decrease the expense of shipping (Caulfield 2002), but this has little to no practical impact on making healthful foods more affordable. For

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the roughly twenty Alaskan communities monitored by the USDA Cooperative Extension Service in Fairbanks, food costs for a family of four can be as much as 250% higher than in Portland, Oregon (CES 2009). Even these astonishing numbers underestimate the cost in many remote bush communities, which usually have the lowest per-capita incomes and highest percent of people living in federally defined poverty. Anecdotal reports suggest that food prices, even in larger regional centers such as Fort Yukon, vary seasonally and can range 600–1,000% higher than in the lower forty-eight states. As an example, it is not unheard of to encounter a gallon of milk costing $15. Many remote communities (those where we observe these extraordinarily high food prices) are not included in the CES survey because local stores often do not offer sufficient and consistent food items to support valid assessment (B. Luick, personal communication 2007). This finding in itself speaks to both the quality and consistency of food supply to Alaska’s most remote areas. It is essential to underscore that the high price of food does not necessarily reflect quality. Industrially processed, packaged, and preserved foods are the most capable of surviving the many food-miles traveled. At this far end of the global supply chain, extreme remoteness amplifies not only the economic costs but also the vagaries and vulnerabilities of the food production and distribution system in ways more exaggerated than the standard food-miles concept might suggest. For the fresh foods that make the trip to rural stores, many risks are introduced. Contamination from chemical use, damage, and loss of flavor and nutritional quality are some of the consequences of long-distance transport and the repeated changing of hands. Imported fuel is also critical to the continuance of essential functions in rural Alaska communities. Diesel fuel runs local power plants and heats homes, while gasoline runs the snowmachines, ATVs, and outboard motors that are so important for hunting, fishing, and gathering activities. Colt and colleagues (2003) estimated that the total annual consumption of diesel fuel and gasoline in rural Alaska, for uses including heating, electricity, and transportation, reaches upward of one thousand gallons per person. It is not surprising, then, that recent rapid increases in fuel costs have focused popular attention on questions of both short-term wellbeing of rural residents and long-term viability of these remote rural communities (Martin et al. 2008). Fuel oil is delivered in bulk annually to many villages in rural Alaska. Hence, the price of oil remains constant in these regions for periods of time much longer than in areas that receive ongoing shipments. Many of the purchases in rural Alaska occurred when the price of oil was at its peak. The unprecedented increase in fuel prices in 2008 of roughly $2 per gallon has thus equated to a long-term additional economic burden of several thousand dollars per household in rural Alaska. Despite any debates regarding direct or indirect causality, as the price of

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fuel goes up, so goes the price of food (Von Braun 2008). Households with lower incomes are thus faced with making critical decisions regarding whether to purchase heating fuel or food (Fazzino and Loring 2009). It is likely that these costs are directly or indirectly influencing the contemporary rural–urban migration trend. However, the people who are hardest hit by high fuel and food costs are often those least able to afford the move (Martin et al. 2008). These people also tend to lack the ability to buy much at local stores and need to rely more on country foods. Yet many are not able to afford the fuel necessary for hunting and fishing and thus find this option limited as well. Here climate change is also proving to be a confounding factor. Weather variability and changes in the distribution and abundance of fish and game can mean more time must be spent searching, and many rural hunters and fishers have reported that the cost of fuel has limited their ability to adapt to these challenges.

Subsistence: The Legislative Geography of Country Food Subsistence: Resource dependence that is primarily outside the cash sector of the economy. This term has a specific application in laws relating to Alaska wildlife, but has eluded a comprehensive definition. To Indigenous Peoples it describes their culture and their relationship to the land, and thus the economic definition seems inadequate (see Berger 1985). To others, subsistence no longer exists in Alaska because the cash economy appears to predominate throughout the state, so that no one is truly dependent upon the land. (H. Huntington 1992:15–16) In addition to new and unprecedented ecological challenges, Alaska’s residents must also navigate a heavily managed and contested ideological landscape when attempting to adapt to these changes and make a reliable living off the land and sea. Governance can impose particular challenges for the country food harvest. Although nearly all aspects of commercial fishing management and regulation in Alaska have recently undergone significant overhauls (e.g., the rationalization of shellfish and ground-fish fisheries in the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands region), the state’s subsistence management regime has remained largely untouched in the last thirty years. Subsistence practices are legally defined and protected by the “customary and traditional use of wild, renewable, fish and wildlife resources for food and other non-commercial purposes” (Alaska Statute 16.05.940(33)). This remains an important piece of legislation, but it clearly cannot accommodate the need for the flexibility and innovation in food procurement and production or technologies that will enhance or stabilize Alaska’s regional food systems in a scenario of

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social and ecological change. As we illustrate below, subsistence regulation has from the beginning been organized around ideas of difference, of the protection and therefore secularization of a Native lifestyle imagined as historical and static. As a result, the subsistence paradigms cannot acknowledge the extent to which innovation and experimentation are needed to cope with contemporary changes in the environment and in the abundance and distribution of wild foods. Subsistence has come to mean much more than a set of activities, but it nevertheless remains subordinate to federal and state management mandates, even where protection of subsistence is stated as a legally mandated management goal. To understand (and perhaps even resolve) some of the significant challenges that the current subsistence paradigm poses, we briefly discuss the history of subsistence legislation and regulation in Alaska. The origins of subsistence legislation precede statehood. From 1867 until about 1900 the federal treatment of Alaska Natives was based on the assumption that they were not an aboriginal group with rights to land. There were no formal treaties between the US government and Native Alaskans. Alaska Natives were not US citizens and could not claim land under the Homestead Act of 1862. Legal action through the Alaska Native Allotment Act (1906) allowed individual Alaska Natives to retain up to 160 acres of land as a homestead. US citizenship was granted to Alaska Natives in 1924 (Case 1984; Sacks 1995). Various administrative actions have since attempted to address the issue of Native access to land for subsistence purposes. One such attempt occurred in 1934 with passage of the Indian Reorganization Act (IRA). The original IRA was amended in 1936 in an attempt to specifically account for Alaska Native needs and “to protect Native land use and fish and game harvest opportunities” (Mitchell 2003:296). The Alaska amendments to the IRA allowed the secretary of the interior to designate public lands that were actually occupied by Indians or Eskimos as either new reservations or as additions to reservations. The amendment further permitted them to organize under federally recognized constitutions, to draft business charters, and to elect village councils that would be responsible to governmental authority under the federal charter (Mitchell 2003). In 1959, Alaska became a state, and its constitution drafted in 1956 stipulated that “wherever occurring in their natural state, fish, wildlife, and waters are reserved to the people for their common use.”4 This clause codified equal access to natural resources, but it did not forestall ensuing conflicts among various groups of citizens over the use of resources. Statehood clearly did not resolve the land claims of the state of Alaska, the federal government, private citizen migrants to the state, or the indigenous people. The regulatory system we have today rests primarily on the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) of 1971, which created thirteen regional

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Native corporations with an economic settlement and entitlement approach that differed significantly from the reservation and tribal model of the lower forty-eight states and parts of Canada. Through ANCSA, Alaska Natives received $962.5 million and 44 million acres of land (Alaska is roughly 375 million acres in size) as compensation for the “extinguishment of their aboriginal title” (Case 1984; Mitchell 2003). ANCSA failed, however, to take formal action on rights protecting access to and use for subsistence purposes of the lands forfeited in the deal. In response, the US Congress passed the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA) in 1980, attempting to return some level of subsistence rights to Alaska Native people. ANILCA defines subsistence use as Customary and traditional uses by rural Alaska residents of wild renewable resources for direct personal or family consumption as food, shelter, fuel, clothing, tools, or transportation; for the making and selling of handicraft articles out of non edible by-products of fish and wildlife resources taken for personal or family consumption; for barter, or sharing for personal or family consumption; and for customary trade. (ANILCA, PL96-847 S803) Further, ANILCA established a subsistence-use priority (over commercial uses, for instance) with three criteria: “(1) customary and direct dependence upon the populations as the mainstay of livelihood; (2) local residency; and (3) the availability of alternative resources” (ANILCA, PL96-847 S804). The latter was intended to ensure priority for communities with the least options (e.g., market foods) in a time of shortage. The implications of this provision for subsistence rights today, in a time when most villages now have access to stores, remain unclear. The timeline for what is and is not “customary and traditional” is often fixed at 1971,5 the year of the passage of ANCSA (Norris 2002). As a result, the country food harvest has been temporally fixed, extracted from the remainder of local lifeways, and placed into an artificial category that is reified by law and justified through a perceived need for “resource” management. Alaska Natives in the past did not divide their daily activities along lines that are clearly defined as modern or traditional, “for subsistence” or otherwise; they simply did what was necessary to make a living for themselves and their families, working on landscapes in and around their local communities. For many, subsistence as the preferred form of rural livelihood integrates worldview, culture, and practice, a fact not widely appreciated by early and even modern Europeans who tend to view it in terms of technical skill and not much more. Meanwhile, Alaskans continue to debate the pros and cons of natural resource management laws and policies. Few public policy matters divide Alaskans more

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than the issue of establishing a “rural” or “subsistence” priority in wildlife management (Caulfield 1992). ANILCA did not specifically require the state to develop a special subsistence preference, but in 1978, the state passed its first subsistence law and established a Division of Subsistence within the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. The division’s charge was to “compile existing data and conduct studies to gather information, including data from subsistence users, on all aspects of the role of subsistence hunting and fishing in the lives of the residents of the state.” It began crafting regulations with a subsistence priority clause for times of scarcity, but it did not define who the legitimate subsistence users are. The Alaska State Supreme Court decided in McDowell v. State of Alaska in 1989 that because of the common use clause in the Alaska Constitution the state could not provide one group with priority over others. The result is the current dual management of fish and game resources in Alaska by state and federal agencies. Federal agencies recognize a rural priority according to ANILCA, while the state allows all residents to qualify as subsistence users where subsistence uses are allowed and with special provisions for times of scarcity. There remains much gray area in the subsistence priority protocol, and the issue remains quite contentious. Permits are not always required for subsistence hunts and fisheries. For example, urban residents may still draw on subsistence resources with priority based on “nebulous geographic rights over individual needs and responsibilities” (Sacks 1995:273). Urban populations continue to grow and expand, and urban hunters, whether Alaska Native or not, are usually well equipped with expensive boats, motors, ATVs, and other high-tech gear. They are often unwelcome in rural Alaska because they are perceived to have a negative effect on fish and wildlife. It is now twenty-one years since McDowell and, as noted, much of Alaska’s social, economic, and now ecological landscape has changed. The 2000 US Census showed that for the first time in history, more Alaska Natives live in Fairbanks and Anchorage than in the remote rural communities. There are now a great many second- and even third-generation non-Native hunters and fishers who feel their connection to the land qualifies as subsistence every bit as much as it does for the residents of an Alaska Native community. Native Alaskans continue to use the word subsistence, especially in a political venue, but as used it tends to describe some tangible thing outside of their community that needs to be protected. Many also project the category on everything they consider traditional and “worth saving” about their community’s way of life (as suggested in the Huntington quote above). Subsistence is perceived by many to be their most viable legal venue for asserting cultural legitimacy and authority. A mounting body of evidence, however, suggests that people’s health and livelihoods are more affected than they are enabled by the shortcomings of the existing subsistence paradigm (Hall et al. 1985; Loring 2007; Loring et al., in press). Clearly, the time has come for this legislation to be revisited.

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As long as Alaska communities remain locked into the traditional and customary framework for effectively harvesting country foods, adaptive change will be difficult, if not impossible, to incorporate with existing law and regulation.

Discussion: Enhancing Local Foodsheds A new understanding of rural diet emerges when the focus is on supporting the whole food system rather than just an imagined subsistence component. This includes food tradition and preference, the availability and use of country food, the contribution of harvested wild food to the diet, the type and quantity of market foods purchased in the village store, and the vulnerabilities embedded within each. Food security is strengthened when enough is put into storage to see a family or community through the winter. It is complemented by knowing that food is available in the store when needed, regardless of quality, and is enhanced when people have enough preferred food, with preference embedded in local history and culture. Like food security, food insecurity, hunger, and risk can be absolute or relative, with different indicators, methods, and techniques used to define and evaluate all three (Hoddinott 1999). With a food systems focus, we hope to move the subsistence discussion out of the legal and regulatory mode to a place where we can better describe the dietary complexity of modern rural Alaska foodways. Many agree that it is imperative that rural communities find support in their attempts to adapt to changing conditions (Chapin et al. 2006; Ebi et al. 2006; Ford 2008). This will be a difficult challenge in Alaska’s rural communities. The seasonal mobility and flexibility that once typified Alaska Native lifeways and made them so adaptable to the constantly changing Alaska landscape no longer function in quite the same way because people are now tied to permanent settlements by jobs, schools, health care, and a reliance on food from the store. Living in permanent communities significantly constrains the flexibility to move in response to changes in resource distribution and abundance. Nevertheless, the emerging trends of rural to urban migration and trans-local economic arrangements suggest that perhaps a more flexible model of residence and household economics is emerging (Fazzino and Loring 2009). The immediate reaction of many is that Alaska’s rural communities are “dying” (quote from Goldsmith 2008), but perhaps rather than signing a death certificate on remote rural Alaska, it would be more instructive to think about how to provide support to people as they experiment with these new, yet familiar, approaches to making a living in Alaska. Historic, documentary, and ethnographic records are rich with excellent case studies illustrating how the drivers of change are linked to effective and ineffective human responses to change. Climate over the long run, weather in the short

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run, or some combination of social, ecological, and climatic processes interact at multiple temporal and spatial scales to condition what contributes to the successes and failures of human response at any scale, in any society (Hamilton et al. 2003; Ommer 2007). We have to be aware of these lessons if we are to learn from them. Metaphors such as the adaptive cycle may provide one way to visualize stability and change, but there are many other, perhaps more substantive studies, frameworks, and methods available to help us understand the same (e.g., Odum 1998; Savory 1988; Spicer 1962). Even Arnold Toynbee (1951) remarked that civilization is a movement, not a condition, and the rise of uniformity in any form will mark its decline. This is true for social and ecological systems, true for food production systems, and true as well for academic and intellectual movements. Of all the ways that researchers and policymakers can provide such support, the most powerful, perhaps, in the short term is via high-quality information. To assure a food-secure future for the communities that rely on country foods, there continues to be a need for improved access to quality climate and weather information. Rural residents need reliable predictions about water and landscape conditions to make informed decisions about where and when to hunt, fish, and plant crops in times of uncertainty. Today, however, there are at least two essential problems in linking climate and storm information to observed community impacts: (1) the precise nature and full range of possible community responses to weather are not fully and clearly expressed, and the meaning is simply assumed by physical scientists, and (2) climate models do not possess the spatial detail to address local climate change requirements at a seasonal scale and with respect to weather. There are downscaling models and methods, algorithms, and transfer functions that are scientifically useful and quite sophisticated, but the derived information is not always easy to convey to the public, especially with respect to projections, predictions, and forecasts. Finally, many villagers from across the state have expressed their frustrations with climate change research in general, saying that it has been overemphasized to the exclusion of other socioeconomic, educational, food, and energy issues. Communication between scientists and rural communities is improving with mutual awareness through collaboration. Still, more work is needed from both sides before it will be possible to correlate and integrate observations and forecasts across spatial and temporal scales. Subsistence harvests are daily and seasonal, while climate models are often based on decades and/or millennia. Climate models do not always provide the high-quality weather information needed on a daily or seasonal basis, information that a subsistence hunter, a subsistence or commercial fisher, or a subsistence gardener or farmer needs or would like to have. There is still a need to synthesize and communicate climate change information to institutions and local communities, but it is also important for us to work more critically

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with the synergistic interactions of climate and weather change, socioeconomics, and subsistence in ways that are relevant to communities and regions. For planning purposes, forecasters must move toward integrating fine-grained local and regional climate and seasonal weather information with community-based knowledge gained through hunter experimentation and testing in the field.

Conclusion The weight of evidence has finally converged on the point where there is both scientific and public consensus about the fact that climate and weather patterns are changing in the Arctic and elsewhere. Geographers, anthropologists, historians, novelists, and poets have long recognized and appreciated the relationship between population size, community and economic organization, and ecosystem structure and function. Now, however, a similar consensus is emerging in the sustainability and resilience literature about the “goodness of fit” between human communities and the ecosystems they depend on. If the human system expands beyond the ecosystem’s ability to support it, then the stability of any ecosystem and the services it provides to human and biological communities are likely to be irreparably stressed. As a result, local, regional, and global systems at all scales—regardless of social organization, technological sophistication, governance regime, or economic philosophy—will be affected. The inevitable result of ecological overshoot is collapse in the worst case and reorganization in the best, whether driven by climate and weather or by some other biophysical, cultural, or social force. Whether from the perspective of an urban or rural community, or from that of a scientist, planner, or policymaker, the contemporary challenge is how to cope with the cumulative effects of change. These stakeholders must also consider how to ensure that healthy and sustainable systems have the resources needed to thrive now and in the future, and to create positive social and ecological conditions that will foster sustainable futures. Here we have drawn a coarse map of the Alaska food system as navigated by residents of the state’s remote rural communities. The intent is to link the broader driver of climate change to downscale contemporary social, political, and economic issues. Adaptation to climate change is situated in these place-based contexts and therefore must be designed for these contexts if they are to be successful. Where change is rapid, unprecedented, or unanticipated, the potential for people to rely on wild resources such as fish and game and on local food production strategies such as gardening or small-scale farming may be compromised. Additionally, the ability to have a secure, abundant, and safe water supply and even to conduct the economic activity necessary to support a way of life may also be at risk. Where change is

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gradual, it may be understood and planned for, although the effectiveness of policy strategies linked to this assumption are still to be shown through practice. The components of the problem are fundamentally the same in either scenario of gradual or punctuated change, although the synergistic relationships among components of a system and social and ecological outcomes may well be different. All communities have the potential to either plan intelligently for a safe and secure future or to simply default to the time-tested but timed-out strategy of impact mitigation, whatever the forcing function, and regardless of temporal scale. One question that remains unanswered is how and to what degree agencies, policymakers, researchers, and other governing bodies will support people in their attempts to adapt to a changing world. As we have outlined it here, such facilitation in some cases will require a complete rethinking of our institutions for managing resources and people; in other cases, it will rest on our willingness to cooperate and collaborate across cultures and on equal footing. Community and individual health and security—in some cases even survival—are the stakes we need to consider for the future health of the ecosystem, the food system, individuals, and communities, whether in Alaska or elsewhere.

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Endnotes 1

2

The foodshed (Kloppenburg et al. 1996) is derived from the ecological concept of the watershed. As the watershed provides a geographic context for the flow of water through a landscape and into communities, so does the foodshed serve as a geographic context for discussing the movement of food through the processes of harvest, preparation, storage, and consumption at individual, community, and regional levels. The estimated 5% of Alaska’s food that comes from local agriculture is widely contested; some state experts and officials have suggested off the record that it may be

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3

4 5

higher or lower. That no clear and agreed-on estimate can be obtained is yet another important observation about the state of the Alaska food system. Additional assessment is necessary, especially regarding the contributions of food service companies and restaurants, especially fast-food restaurants. There remains a great need for quantitative dietary assessments of both the rural and urban places in Alaska. The extent to which wild foods are available at all is expected to vary significantly from community to community, though this too needs further research. We can say with certainty that the preference for wild foods is there, it is strong in the older generations, and these foods are consumed whenever they are available. Those works cited above confirm these statements. Alaska Constitution. Article VIII§3. For example, the first chapter in Alaska Subsistence: A National Park Service Management History by Norris (2002) is titled “Alaska Native and Rural Lifeways Prior to 1971.”

2.7

Indigenous Knowledge and Global Environmental Politics: Biodiversity, POPs, and Climate by pia m. kohler

I

n the context of global environmental politics, indigenous knowledge traditionally has not played a prominent role in the provision of science advice. This lack of representation is perhaps best exemplified in the 2002 National Research Council report Knowledge & Diplomacy: Science Advice in the United Nations System, which includes only two references to indigenous or traditional knowledge. The first of these recognizes the emphasis placed on traditional knowledge in the context of international regimes on biodiversity and desertification. The second highlights a 1995 report by the World Commission on Culture and Development, which underscored “the role of traditional knowledge and cultural diversity in development” (National Research Council 2002). International law is founded on the principle of state sovereignty, thus casting the nation-state as the central actor. Nevertheless, the emergence of environmental and human rights concerns has increasingly allowed for a growing role by non-state actors, including by indigenous peoples. The 2002 establishment of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues and the 2007 adoption of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples have been the most high-profile illustrations of this expanding recognition of the role of indigenous peoples in an international arena. However, this chapter will focus on the realm of global environmental politics. In particular, it will examine three regimes that have engaged indigenous knowledge in different ways. The first regime is the Convention on Biological Diversity, which emphasized traditional and local knowledge since its early framing. Next, this chapter will examine the movement

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to address pollution by persistent organic pollutants (POPs), whose success has been attributed in part to the active role played by arctic indigenous people. Finally, this chapter will look into the more recent emergence of indigenous knowledge and indigenous actors within the climate regime, especially in the context of global and regional assessments and the negotiations for a post-Kyoto framework. The chapter will conclude with a discussion of the incorporation of indigenous knowledge in global environmental politics. But first it is necessary to briefly discuss the broader context of international law.

International Law and Indigenous Peoples In December 1993, the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution (A/RES/48/163) proclaiming the International Decade of the World’s Indigenous People from 1994 to 2004. This followed a 1990 resolution (A/RES/45/164) that had proclaimed 1993 the International Year of the World’s Indigenous People. This development presented the culmination of ongoing efforts to raise international awareness of indigenous issues, especially in a human rights context, and it built on efforts in the environmental realm at the global scale. Indeed, the international community had convened in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in June 1992 for the UN Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED). This was the largest summit of world leaders held to date with an emphasis on sustainable development. In Resolution 48/163, the General Assembly welcomed “the report of the UN Conference on Environment and Development, in which the vital role of indigenous people and their communities in the interrelationship between the natural environment and its sustainable development is recognized, including their holistic traditional scientific knowledge of their lands, natural resources and environment.” Indigenous peoples were a focus of Agenda 21: The United Nations Programme of Action from Rio. This road map for future work by a variety of actors included a multi-chapter section titled “Strengthening the Role of Major Groups,” emphasizing the role to be played by workers, farmers, women and children, and youth. Among these, indigenous peoples were also recognized in a stand-alone chapter of Agenda 21. Chapter 26, titled “Recognizing & Strengthening the Role of Indigenous Peoples and Their Communities,” sets out objectives for governments and intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) to establish a process to empower indigenous peoples and their communities. The process includes “recognition of their values, traditional knowledge and resource management practices with a view to promoting environmentally sound and sustainable development.” The chapter also outlines activities to be undertaken by governments and IGOs, including those aimed at

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developing or strengthening “arrangements to consult with indigenous people and their communities with a view to reflecting their needs and incorporating their values and traditional and other knowledge and practices in national policies and programmes in the field of natural resource management and conservation.” Discussions surrounding the establishment of an international body dedicated to indigenous issues and negotiations of a draft universal declaration on indigenous rights predated the adoption of Agenda 21. Indeed, in 1982 the UN’s Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) established a Working Group on Indigenous Populations (WGIP) of the Sub-Commission on the Protection and Promotion of Human Rights. Nevertheless, the establishment of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII) did not come to fruition until July 2000, when the ECOSOC adopted resolution 2000/22, which established the UNPFII to “discuss indigenous issues within the mandate of the Council relating to economic and social development, culture, the environment, education, health and human rights.” The UNPFII held its first session in 2002 and has met annually since then. Similarly, it was not until 2007 that the UN General Assembly adopted the UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. The incorporation of indigenous knowledge and worldviews into international scientific and political debates has affected the salience of indigenous issues in other arenas as well. For example, Long Martello (2001) examined indigenous knowledge in the context of the 1994 UN Convention to Combat Desertification and the 1992 Forest Principles. The present chapter focuses on three environmental regimes—biodiversity, persistent organic pollutants, and climate change. Each of these regimes bears relevance to arctic indigenous peoples in particular and to broader research efforts within the context of the International Polar Year.

Protecting Biological Diversity At the UNCED summit in Rio (often called the “Earth Summit”), the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) was one of several treaties that were opened for signature. The issue of an international treaty on biological diversity rose to prominence in the late 1980s, and the official negotiations for a treaty on the matter began in 1991. After its adoption in 1992, the treaty entered into force in 1992 (after its thirtieth ratification), and as of May 2010 the treaty enjoys near universal ratification with 193 member parties (the United States and Andorra are not parties to this treaty). The CBD defines biological diversity as meaning “the variability among living organisms from all sources, including, inter alia, terrestrial, marine and other aquatic ecosystems and the ecological complexes of which they are part; this

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includes diversity within species, between species and of ecosystems” (Article 2). In the preamble to the CBD, parties recognize “the close and traditional dependence of many indigenous and local communities embodying traditional lifestyles on biological resources, and the desirability of sharing equitably benefits arising from the use of traditional knowledge, innovations and practices relevant to the conservation of biological diversity and the sustainable use of its components.” The importance of benefit sharing is further affirmed in Article 1, which sets out its objectives, namely, • • •

The conservation of biological diversity; The sustainable use of its components; The fair and equitable sharing of the benefits arising out of the utilization of genetic resources, including by appropriate access to genetic resources and by appropriate transfer of relevant technologies, taking into account all rights over those resources and to technologies.

Furthermore, the CBD text also emphasizes the importance of indigenous knowledge under its provisions for in situ conservation. Article 8(j) calls on each party as follows: Subject to its national legislation, [to] respect, preserve and maintain knowledge, innovations and practices of indigenous and local communities embodying traditional lifestyles relevant for the conservation and sustainable use of biological diversity and promote their wider application with the approval and involvement of the holders of such knowledge, innovations and practices and encourage the equitable sharing of the benefits arising from the utilization of such knowledge, innovations and practices. Other relevant provisions under the CBD call on parties to “protect and encourage customary use of biological resources in accordance with traditional cultural practices that are compatible with conservation or sustainable use requirements” (Article 10(c)), and to facilitate the exchange of information “relevant to the conservation and sustainable use of biological diversity,” including information on indigenous and traditional knowledge (Article 17). In 1996, parties to the CBD began work on matters related to Article 8(j), and in 1998, an Ad Hoc Working Group on Article 8(j) and Related Provisions was established. This working group met for its first session in 2000 and has since held six meetings, the most recent in November 2009. An Ad Hoc Open-Ended Working Group on Access and Benefit-Sharing (which has met in nine sessions

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from 2001 to July 2010), was entrusted with developing an international regime on access to genetic resources and benefit sharing. The result of this process, the Nagoya Protocol on Access to Genetic Resources and the Fair and Equitable Sharing of Benefits Arising from their Utilization to the Convention on Biological Diversity, was adopted in October 2010. The Ad Hoc Working Group on Article 8(j) has been a focusing tool for facilitating participation by indigenous and local communities (ILCs) in the work of the CBD. The meetings of the 8(j) Working Group are unique relative to other global environmental negotiations in that ILCs participate in deliberations more than as mere observers. A Voluntary Trust Fund has also been established under the CBD to facilitate participation by ILCs in other convention meetings (CBD Secretariat 2010). At its third meeting in 2003, the Article 8(j) Working Group adopted the Akwé: Kon Guidelines for the conduct of cultural, environmental, and social impact assessments regarding developments on sacred sites and on lands and waters traditionally occupied or used by indigenous and local communities. These voluntary guidelines were adopted by the seventh meeting of the Conference of the Parties to the CBD in 2004. The activities described above address the role of indigenous communities as relating to the implementation of provisions of the CBD and to the political negotiations aimed at finalizing an instrument on access and benefit sharing. It is also necessary to take a closer look at the role indigenous knowledge has played in providing science advice under the CBD. The CBD (under Article 25) establishes a Subsidiary Body on Scientific, Technical and Technological Advice (SBSTTA) to provide “timely advice relating to the implementation” of the convention. This body’s membership is open to all parties, and the convention calls for it to “comprise government representatives competent in the relevant field of expertise.” The SBSTTA has met fourteen times (most recently in May 2010), providing recommendations that are taken up by the Conference of the Parties to the CBD at its meetings. Since its inception the SBSTTA, which is a hybrid science–policy body, has faced criticisms relating to its limitations in carrying out the activities detailed under the convention, including, for example, providing “scientific and technical assessments of the status of biological diversity” (Article 25.2(a)). This has also prompted calls for a means of producing assessments similar in scope to those that have been prepared by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). In response to this concern by many stakeholders involved in the biodiversityrelated conventions (including the CBD but also the Convention to Combat Desertification and the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands), in the late 1990s efforts began to design an international assessment process. The Millennium Ecosystem

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Assessment (MEA) was launched in June 2001, and following a global deliberative process, its findings were published in March 2005. The MA was a multi-scale, multi-sectoral assessment that also made deliberate efforts to include different knowledge systems, including through an international conference on “Bridging Scales and Epistemologies” in March 2004. One product of that conference is Bridging Scale and Knowledge Systems: Concepts and Applications in Ecosystem Assessment (Reid et al. 2006), several chapters of which examine the place of indigenous and local knowledge in global assessments. Since the release of the MA’s findings, there have not been plans to harness the same process to generate another report, yet experience gained in conducting the MA spurred extensive discussions on the best means of providing science advice to the biodiversity-related conventions. In January 2005, participants at the Paris Conference on Biodiversity, Science and Governance launched the Consultative Process Towards an International Mechanism of Scientific Expertise on Biodiversity (IMoSEB). This consultative process included case studies and regional consultations, and as a result, the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) decided to convene the ad hoc Intergovernmental and Multi-Stakeholder Meeting on an Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES), which has met three times as of June 2010 (IPBES n.d.). Throughout deliberations surrounding the IMoSEB and the IPBES, the importance of including traditional and indigenous knowledge in a mechanism for improving the science–policy interface in the biodiversity context has been heavily underscored. The means of facilitating this inclusion is likely to be a feature of recommendations arising from the IPBES process (Earth Negotiations Bulletin 2009b). In December 2010, the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution requesting UNEP to convene a meeting to determine the IPBES’s modalities and institutional arrangements (A/RES/65/162) at the earliest opportunity.

Eliminating Persistent Organic Pollutants Persistent organic pollutants (POPs) are a class of chemicals that exhibit several characteristics, notably a propensity for long-range environmental transport, persistence in the environment, bioaccumulation, and adverse effects to human health and/or the environment. Indigenous peoples, and arctic indigenous peoples in particular, have played a key role (as described briefly below) in bringing the issue to global attention. Their efforts culminated in the 2004 Stockholm Convention on POPs, which addresses the production and use of twelve chemicals (known as the “dirty dozen”).

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International regulatory responses have addressed chemical use and pollution since the early 1970s, and Chapters 19 and 20 of Agenda 21 also address chemicals management. A task force to assess the problem posed by POPs was first established in 1990 under the aegis of a regional air pollution treaty, the 1979 Convention on Long-Range Transboundary Air Pollution, which brings together parties from Europe and North America. The issue of POPs was first pushed onto the international agenda by Canada and Sweden. Those two countries had started to detect high concentrations of these POPs in their Arctic areas and in the breast milk of arctic indigenous populations (Fenge 2003; Selin 2010). In 1991, arctic countries established the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme (AMAP) to “monitor the levels of pollutants and to assess their effects in the Arctic environment” (Reiersen et al. 2003; Selin and Selin 2008). AMAP is now a program group of the Arctic Council, and the AMAP Working Group includes representatives from the Inuit Circumpolar Conference, the Saami Council, the Russian Association of Indigenous Peoples of the North, and the Aleut International Association (AMAP n.d.). The AMAP has continued its work on POPs, releasing the AMAP Assessment 2002: Persistent Organic Pollutants in the Arctic (2004), which included contributions from indigenous peoples’ organizations, including the Arctic Athabaskan Council and the Gwich’in Council International, in addition to those listed above. Building on these scientific assessments, the Convention on Long-Range Transboundary Air Pollution (CLRTAP) undertook negotiations of a (subsidiary) Protocol on POPs, which was finalized in 1998. At the same time, the global community was becoming aware of the threat posed by POPs in the environment, and negotiations on a global POPs treaty began in 1998 (Selin 2010). Arctic indigenous peoples, who are particularly vulnerable to POPs contamination (Selin 2010), played an active role in negotiation of a global treaty. They used their influence with individual country delegations and their coordinated presence in the series of negotiating meetings held from 1998 to 2001. In March 1997, indigenous groups formed a coalition (the Northern Aboriginal Peoples’ Coordinating Committee on POPs) to participate in the end of the CRLTAP negotiations. In 1998, more than four hundred advocacy groups, including several indigenous groups, formed the International POPs Elimination Network, with the aim of supporting the elaboration of global POPs controls (Fenge 2003; WattCloutier 2003). The International POPs Elimination Network played a significant role in bringing together arctic indigenous groups and indigenous peoples of Africa. Indeed, the twelve chemicals (“dirty dozen”) at the center of negotiations for a POPs treaty included several pesticides. Most notable among them is DDT, which is still broadly used for malaria vector control. A key element of the agreement on

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the convention rested on an acknowledgment that protecting the health of vulnerable arctic communities should not come at the expense of the health of African communities vulnerable to malaria (Watt-Cloutier 2003). Sheila Watt-Cloutier, then vice president of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, also played a significant role in the negotiations. She is credited with emphasizing the public health threat from POPs. Watt-Cloutier presented the executive director of UNEP with an Inuit carving of a mother and child, which was present at the dais at all subsequent negotiations (Fenge 2003; Selin 2010; Watt-Cloutier 2003). Now, more than five years after the treaty’s entry into force, this reminder of arctic indigenous peoples’ vulnerability to POPs is still brought to meetings of the parties to the convention. Negotiations on the Stockholm Convention were finalized in 2001. The Stockholm Convention, which as of May 2010 has 170 parties, was designed as a dynamic and precautionary convention. The preamble to the convention acknowledges that “Arctic ecosystems and indigenous communities are particularly at risk because of the biomagnifications of persistent organic pollutants and that contamination of their traditional foods is a public health issue.” It went on to say that “precaution underlies the concerns of all the Parties and is embedded within this Convention.” Precaution is also underscored in Article 1, which states that the objective of the convention is to “protect human health and the environment from persistent organic pollutants.” The listing of new chemicals under the convention also refers to precaution. The convention as adopted in 2001 provides for control measures for twelve chemicals. Nine substances are slated for elimination, and DDT is identified for restriction. Further, the convention outlines guidance for preventing the production of three substances that are produced unintentionally.1 Article 8 outlines the procedure for reviewing nomination for the listing of new chemicals under the convention and states that “lack of full scientific certainty shall not prevent the proposal from proceeding.” It calls on the Conference of the Parties to decide “in a precautionary manner” whether a chemical should be listed. This emphasis on precaution places the onus on protecting those most vulnerable communities from the potential adverse effects of POPs. Furthermore, the multi-step process for listing, which is carried out by a POPs Review Committee, is designed so that the committee determines whether global action is warranted on the basis of whether a nominated chemical is likely to lead to significant adverse human health and/or environmental effects. It is only following such a determination that the committee then considers evidence of the socioeconomic implications of global action, which can then inform the type of action that will be required of parties should the chemical be listed. In practice, this means that the potential health impact of these chemicals on arctic environments and arctic indigenous communities trumps the potential costs of phasing

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out that chemical. Indeed, in May 2009 the Conference of the Parties agreed to follow the committee’s recommendation to list an additional nine chemicals under the convention. This list included chemicals that are in widespread use such as, for example, perfluooctane sulfonate (PFOS), a fire retardant that is infamous for its high persistence (Earth Negotiations Bulletin 2009a). With the exception of DDT, the original “dirty dozen” presented what many called “dead” chemicals, those no longer in widespread use. Listing would guarantee that their use would not reoccur. Therefore, the review process is essential to address those chemicals that are currently in widespread use and present the greater long-term threat to human health and the environment. The convention text itself does not provide many guidelines as to the operation of the Review Committee, beyond that “the Committee shall consist of government-designated experts in chemicals assessment or management” and that its members “shall be appointed on the basis of equitable geographic distribution” (Article 19). Negotiations to finalize the operation of the committee were contentious and focused for the most part on the best means of achieving not only equitable geographic distribution but also the appropriate balance of expertise (Kohler 2006). At its first meeting in 2005, the Conference of the Parties to the Stockholm Convention adopted the terms of reference for the Committee (Decision SC-1/7), agreeing to establish a thirty-one-member committee of government-designated experts. The committee would be comprised of eight experts from African states, eight experts from Asian and Pacific states, three experts from Central and Eastern European states, five experts from Latin American and Caribbean states, and seven experts from Western European and other states. While negotiations did explore means of ensuring representation by a variety of sources of knowledge and worldviews, in the end the terms of reference only note that “when designating experts, Parties .╯.╯. shall have due regard to a balance between different types of expertise and between genders, and ensure that expertise in health and environment is represented.” Yet in practice it appears that those parties nominating experts have not always been able to implement those recommendations, especially the need to ensure that expertise in health is represented. Nevertheless, the committee has held its meetings in an open and transparent manner, which has facilitated participation by members of the International POPs Elimination Network. Most notably, members have been allowed to participate in the informal drafting groups that meet between meetings of the committee to review the chemicals nominated for listing. Furthermore, IPEN, and several other indigenous peoples’ groups, have continued to attend meetings of the Conference of the Parties to the Stockholm Convention. At COP meetings these groups have the status of observer, which can limit their opportunities for intervention in official proceedings. However, they often play an active role in contact groups and

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in organizing “side events” that continue to raise parties’ awareness of those most impacted by the adverse effects of POPs.

Combating Climate Change The UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) is one of the “Rio Conventions” and one of the treaties opened for signature at the 1992 UNCED. In striking difference to the two previous cases, neither the UNFCCC nor its subsidiary Kyoto Protocol adopted in 1997 makes reference to indigenous peoples or to indigenous, traditional, or local knowledge. Indeed, the role of indigenous peoples and indigenous knowledge in shaping global climate politics is one that has risen in salience in the new millennium. Nevertheless, to understand this dynamic, it is necessary to review some of the early developments of the climate regime. Negotiations for the UNFCCC emerged in reaction to growing scientific evidence that the international community was facing potentially catastrophic impacts from anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions. In the 1980s, a group of meteorologists met in Villach, Austria, to examine the question of climate change. In his overview of the discovery of global warming, Spencer R. Weart (2008) explained: The assembled experts arrived at an international consensus: “In the first half of the next century a rise of global mean temperature could occur which is greater than any in man’s history.” And for the first time, a group of climate scientists went beyond the usual call for more research to take a more activist stance. Governments should act, and soon. “While some warming of climate now appears inevitable due to past actions,” they declared, “the rate and degree of future warming could be profoundly affected by governmental policies.” Along with increasing evidence of potential adverse impacts from continued and increased greenhouse gas emissions, the international community at this time was coming together to tackle the problem of ozone depletion, first through the 1985 Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer and then through its 1987 Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer. Then, in 1988, as concern about global climate change was rising, UNEP and the World Meteorological Organization established the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). This panel was largely made up of government-designated experts whose goal was to examine the available science and develop a consensus

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assessment of the state of climate change. The IPCC relied on a multi-stage process of peer review, which culminated in a requirement that all government representatives agree on its output. The first IPCC report was released in 1990 and fed in to the negotiations for the UNFCCC. Subsequent assessment reports were released in 1995, 2001, and 2007. As noted above, the UNFCCC did not explicitly address indigenous peoples or indigenous knowledge. Its objective is “the stabilization of greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere at a level that would prevent dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system. Such a level should be achieved within a time frame sufficient to allow ecosystems to adapt naturally to climate change, to ensure that food production is not threatened and to enable economic development to proceed in a sustainable manner” (Article 2). Following an approach that had proved successful in the context of ozone depletion, this framework convention was intended to be supplemented by a protocol that would include specific targets. Indeed, in 1997 parties agreed to the Kyoto Protocol, which set out targets for developed countries to reduce their greenhouse gas emissions “with a view to reducing their overall emissions of such gases by at least 5 percent below 1990 levels in the commitment period 2008 to 2012” (Article 3). The UNFCCC entered into force in 1994 and currently has 194 parties, while the Kyoto Protocol entered into force in 2005 and currently has 191 parties. One of the key tensions when considering global action on climate change often is cast as a divide between developed and developing countries, and the UNFCCC text does stress the principle of “common but differentiated responsibilities” and calls on developed country parties to “accordingly .╯.╯. take the lead in combating climate change and the adverse effects thereof ” (Article 3.2). The convention also addresses precaution, noting that The Parties should take precautionary measures to anticipate, prevent or minimize the causes of climate change and mitigate its adverse effects. Where there are threats of serious or irreversible damage, lack of full scientific certainty should not be used as a reason for postponing such measures, taking into account that policies and measures to deal with climate change should be costeffective so as to ensure global benefits at the lowest possible cost. (Article 3.3) By the time negotiations were concluded on the Kyoto Protocol, extra emphasis was being placed on those countries most vulnerable to the adverse impact of climate change, and island states were the most notable among them. Yet no explicit reference was made to indigenous peoples.

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The rise of recognition of the role of indigenous knowledge and the voice of indigenous peoples in the climate regime arose in both the scientific and political contexts after adoption of the Kyoto Protocol. The IPCC had adapted its procedures for preparing its Third Assessment Report (released in 2001) in reaction to process concerns raised (Miller and Erickson 2006), which led to a substantial increase in participation by developing country experts. As the IPCC was preparing for its Fourth Assessment Report (which was released in 2007, and for which the IPCC was awarded the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize), the IPCC was emphasizing means of making its assessments more relevant for regional decision makers, which included a growing emphasis on the incorporation of local knowledge. In this same time period, the Arctic Council tasked its working groups on AMAP and on Conservation of Arctic Flora and Fauna (CAFF) and its International Arctic Science Committee (IASC) to prepare an Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). This assessment was prepared over five years by “an international team of over 300 scientists, other experts, and knowledgeable members of the indigenous communities” (ACIA 2005, preface). The ACIA was released in 2004 and has been highlighted for its unique means of including indigenous knowledge and presenting indigenous peoples in such an assessment (Long Martello 2008). In a political context, emergence of indigenous voices on the international stage was facilitated by a shift that occurred at the Bali Summit on Climate held in December 2007. This meeting was cast as the opportunity to negotiate a meaningful post-Kyoto framework, while also building on the sense of urgency brought about by the stark findings of the IPCC’s Fourth Assessment Report released earlier that year. Bali presented an increased emphasis on the importance of addressing adaptation as well as mitigation. This evolution of discourse to one emphasizing policies that would be implemented in developing countries, potentially through the transfer of funds that might dwarf existing flows of official development aid, helped bring to the fore the social justice dimensions of global climate change (Watanabe et al. 2008). This allowed the emergence of new actors in this context and also intensified dialogue and conversations around climate ethics and climate justice as stakeholders followed the “Bali Road Map” to Copenhagen in December 2010 when countries were expected to reach agreement on a post-Kyoto framework. Despite this surge of social awareness in 2007, which broadened opportunities for indigenous voices to be heard, groups representing indigenous peoples had previously contributed statements to meetings under the climate regime. Smith (2007) details eight declarations given from 1998 to 2004 and discusses how these declarations challenged the dominant discourse of climate change as a “global” problem. Furthermore, in April 2009, prior to the Copenhagen summit, an Indigenous Peoples’ Global Summit on Climate Change was held in

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Anchorage, Alaska. Participants in the summit drafted The Anchorage Declaration, which includes several provisions relating to indigenous knowledge and ends with an emphatic statement: We offer to share with humanity our Traditional Knowledge, innovations, and practices relevant to climate change, provided our fundamental rights as intergenerational guardians of this knowledge are fully recognized and respected. We reiterate the urgent need for collective action.

Bringing Indigenous Knowledge to Bear in Global Environmental Politics One of the challenges of bringing indigenous knowledge to bear on global environmental politics relates to the inclination of regimes to separate science from policy. Even if these science bodies are often in practice hybrid science–policy bodies, this propensity for dichotomy stands in stark contrast to indigenous knowledge often presented through a more holistic lens. Nevertheless it is essential to overcome this dichotomy as there are many benefits to be gained from diversifying the epistemologies included in regimes’ science advisory processes. While these bodies most often cast themselves as mere assessors of knowledge, there is extensive evidence demonstrating that in sorting and framing information and setting standards these science bodies often shape and constrain policy outcomes (Miller and Erickson 2006). Furthermore the democratization of the science advisory process has also been identified as an important means of expanding deliberation to new voices (Miller 2007), opening avenues for what can become expansion to new voices in a political arena still largely focused on the nation-state. This preliminary examination of indigenous knowledge in global environmental politics would benefit from a closer examination of other international treaties, including the International Convention on the Regulation of Whaling, the UN Convention to Combat Desertification, the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands, and the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). Such study would also benefit from including consideration of indigenous knowledge matters in other forums such as, for example, ongoing negotiations under the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) for international legal instruments to ensure the effective protection of genetic resources, traditional knowledge, and traditional cultural expressions. Furthermore, as the biodiversity treaties face the likely establishment of a new science–policy interface, and as the IPCC is likely

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to adjust its procedures in preparing for its fifth assessment report, the moment is ripe to investigate means of expanding and facilitating the place of indigenous knowledge in global science processes. Similarly, with the prospect of the adoption of a new climate treaty and of an international regime on access and benefit sharing under the CBD in the near future, these cases will be suitable to examine the impact indigenous knowledge may have in shaping these agreements.

References Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2005. Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. AMAP. No date. About AMAP/Organizational Structure. Retrieved from www.amap.no. AMAP. 2004. AMAP assessment 2002: Persistent organic pollutants in the Arctic. Oslo, Norway: AMAP. CBD Secretariat. 2010. Article 8(j): Traditional knowledge, innovations and practices. Retrieved from http://www.cbd.int/traditional/. Earth Negotiations Bulletin. 2009a. Summary of the Fourth Conference of the Parties to the Stockholm Convention: 4–8 May 2009, 11 May 2009. Earth Negotiations Bulletin. 2009b. Second Ad Hoc Intergovernmental and Multistakeholder Meeting on an Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services: 5–9 October 2009, 12 October 2009. Fenge, T. 2003. POPs and Inuit: Influencing the global agenda. In Northern lights against POPs: Combatting toxic threats in the Arctic, edited by D. L. Downie and T. Fenge. Montreal, Canada: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 192–213. IPBES. No date. About IPBES. Retrieved from http://ipbes.net/about-ipbes.html. Kohler, P. M. 2006. Science, PIC and POPs: Negotiating the membership of chemical review committees under the Stockholm and Rotterdam Conventions. Review of European Community & International Environmental Law 15(3), 293–303. Long Martello, M. 2001. A paradox of virtue?: “Other” knowledges and environmentdevelopment politics. Global Environmental Politics 1(3), 114–141. Long Martello, M. 2008. Arctic indigenous peoples as representations and representatives of climate change. Social Studies of Science 38(3), 351–376. Miller, C. A. 2007. Democratization, international knowledge institutions, and global governance. Governance: An International Journal of Policy, Administration, and Institutions 20(2), 325–357. Miller, C. A., and P. Erickson. 2006. The politics of bridging scales and epistemologies: Science and democracy in global environmental governance. In Bridging scale and knowledge systems: Concepts and applications in ecosystem assessment. Edited by

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W. V. Reid, F. Berkes, T. J. Wilbanks, and D. Capistrano. Washington DC: World Resources Institute, 297–314. National Research Council. 2002. Knowledge and diplomacy: Science advice in the United Nations System. Washington DC: National Academies Press. Reid, W. V., F. Berkes, T. J. Wilbanks, and D. Capistrano (eds.). 2006. Bridging scale and knowledge systems: Concepts and applications in ecosystem assessment. Washington DC: World Resources Institute. Reiersen, L.-O., S. Wilson, and V. Kimstach. 2003. Circumpolar perspectives on persistent organic pollutants: The Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme. In Northern lights against POPs: Combatting toxic threats in the Arctic. Edited by D. L. Downie and T. Fenge. Montreal, Canada: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 60–86. Selin, H. 2010. Global governance of hazardous chemicals: Challenges of multilevel management. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Selin, H., and N. Selin. 2008. Indigenous peoples in international environmental cooperation: Arctic management of hazardous substances. Review of European Community & International Environmental Law 17(1): 72–83. Smith, H. A. 2007. Disrupting the global discourse of climate change: The case of indigenous voices. In The social construction of climate change: Power, knowledge, norms and discourses. Edited by M. E. Pettenger. Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 197–215. UN ECOSOC. 2000. Establishment of a Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, Resolution 2000/22, United Nations. UN General Assembly. 1990. International Year for the World’s Indigenous People, Resolution A/RES/45/164, United Nations. UN General Assembly. 1993. International Decade of the World’s Indigenous People, Resolution A/RES/48/163, United Nations. United Nations. 1992a. United Nations Convention on Biological Diversity, United Nations, New York. United Nations. 1992b. United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, United Nations, New York. United Nations. 1997. Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, United Nations, New York. United Nations. 2001. Stockholm Convention on Persistent Organic Pollutants (POPs), United Nations, New York. Watanabe, R., C. Arens, F. Mersmann, H. E. Ott, and W. Sterk. 2008. The Bali roadmap for global climate policy—New horizons and old pitfalls. Journal for European Environmental & Planning Law 5(2), 139–158. Watt-Cloutier, S. 2003. The Inuit journey towards a POPs-free world. In Northern lights against POPs: Combatting toxic threats in the Arctic, edited by D. L. Downie and T. Fenge. Montreal, Canada: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 256–267.

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Weart, S. R. 2008. The discovery of global warming: Revised and expanded edition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Endnote 1

These substances, and relevant control measures, are listed under Annexes A, B, and C of the convention, and PCB is listed twice: as a substance slated for elimination and as an unintentionally produced POP.

2.8

Indigenous Contributions to Sustainability by ray barnhardt

T

hroughout the course of the Fourth International Polar Year(s), indigenous peoples have assumed a prominent role as significant partners in the pursuit of a broader and deeper understanding of the multifaceted dimensions of the human role in the Arctic. Most salient in this partnership have been the substantial underlying differences in perspective. Some are political and some ideological, but most fundamental and intractable are the differences in worldviews between those of the relative newcomers to the area (i.e., the miners, loggers, oilfield workers, commercial fishers, tourists, and even the occasional scientist) and the Native people, whose roots in the land go back millennia. But no longer can these differences be cast in simplistic either/or terms, implying some kind of inherent dichotomy between those who live off the land versus those tied to the cash economy, or traditional versus modern technologies, or anecdotal versus scientific evidence. These lines have been blurred with the realities that indigenous cultures are not static and western structures are no longer dominant. Instead, we now have a much more fluid and dynamic situation in which once-competing views of the world are striving toward reconciliation through new structures and frameworks that foster coexistence rather than domination and exploitation. However, the current state of affairs between indigenous and nonindigenous peoples is still very tentative. Much of the work is ongoing, with legislatures, commissions, task forces, working groups, conferences, workshops, symposia, and seminars convening throughout the North to craft new laws, principles, guidelines, strategies, and structures to fit the much maligned “new world order.” So what is it that indigenous people bring to these deliberative arenas that differs from the work and perspectives of other interested parties—besides an intrinsic dependence on

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the sustainability of the natural resources for their physical and cultural survival? I will touch on a few of the contributions that indigenous people are bringing to the table, all of which serve to complement and add to, rather than displace, the knowledge base that continues to be generated by western scientific means.

Dimensions of Indigenous Contributions One of the most important contributions that indigenous people in the circumpolar north are bringing to the research and policymaking arenas is a long-term temporal dimension; that is, a perspective spanning many generations of observation and experimentation, which enriches the relatively short-term, time-bound observations of the itinerant scientists. As one Yup’ik elder put it in a North by 2020/IPY “Workshop on Bridging Indigenous and Western Knowledge Systems,” the indigenous perspective adds breadth to the scientists’ depth (2007). As a result, patterns and cycles that are not evident in the biologist’s toolkit and database of detailed and in-depth short-term observations can be factored into the equation for management purposes. In another meeting, an Inuit elder chided fish and game biologists who were proudly displaying charts showing thirty years of data on polar bear observations along a stretch of the Beaufort Sea. The elder pointed out that the Iñupiaq record went back three hundred years: just because the record had not been written down did not mean it was any less reliable. Closely coupled with this long-term temporal dimension is another important contribution that indigenous ways of knowing provides—that of pointing out the interconnectedness of all the elements that make up an ecosystem, including the human element. While western scientists tend to specialize and conduct research in one component of an ecosystem at a time, the indigenous observer is immersed in the system and thus is more likely to recognize how the various components relate to, interact with, and depend on one another over time and across species. Within an indigenous context, these observations can constitute a quite sophisticated look at the whole, while the scientist’s lens affords only a “crude look at the whole” (Gell-Mann 2010). Through actions of indigenous people such as Larry Merculieff, including the formation of the Indigenous People’s Council for Marine Mammals, Aleut practitioners and western scientists have come to collaboratively study the Bering Sea as an ecosystem (Merculieff 1990). As a result of the input of Aleut observers, many new hypotheses have been put forward to be tested with the arsenal of specialized techniques and technology provided by western science (Merculieff 1991). A third contribution that indigenous people around the world are making to our understanding of sustainable development in the context of rapid change is

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the relationship between resource management regimes and the dynamic nature of cultural systems (Barnhardt 1985). Unlike the western observers’ tendency to freeze indigenous cultural systems in time, as though they existed in some kind of idealized static state destined never to change, indigenous people themselves, as a matter of cultural survival, have been quick to adapt and adopt new technologies and to grasp the “new world order.” While retaining a keen sense of place and rootedness in the land they occupy, they have not hesitated to take advantage of new opportunities (as well as create a few of their own) to improve their quality of life and the efficiency of their lifestyle. This is done, however, within their own framework of values, priorities, and worldviews, so that the development trajectory they choose is not always the same as what outsiders might anticipate or even recognize. The recognition of cultural systems as dynamic and ever-changing in response to new conditions has enormous implications for sustainable development, especially where demographic, climate, and technological changes have combined to put pressure on available resource populations beyond their carrying capacity. Nowhere has this been more contentious than in the regulation of the bowhead whale stock available to Inuit hunters along the northern and northwest coasts of Alaska. For example, Native people in northwest Alaska had to establish a priority between maximizing profits from a world-class lead and zinc mine owned by their Native corporation and sustaining the subsistence whale hunt. The whales’ migration route was potentially disrupted by ships bearing ore from the mine. The Native people chose whale hunting as their first priority and established a panel of subsistence hunters from nearby villages who had the power to shut down the mine if necessary while communities dependent on the whales conducted their hunt. Their multinational partners in the mining venture were not necessarily in agreement with this decision, but in this case the resource, and thus the decision, was in the hands of residents of the region (Barnhardt 1996). Operating in the international arena is becoming familiar ground for indigenous people, with a growing political and scientific sophistication on the indigenous side of the table (Barnhardt 1985). In the ongoing struggle between the scientists of the International Whaling Commission and those of the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission, the disputes have been as much over the cultural basis of the technology employed in the boats, harpoons, and spotting procedures as they have been over the conflicting estimates of the bowhead population size. Similar disputes over “traditional” versus “modern” technology have been endemic to the efforts of the Eskimo Walrus Commission, the Inuvialuit Beluga Whale Committee, the Alaska Sea Otter Commission, and the numerous other indigenous hunting and trapping organizations that have been established to deal with the national and international regulatory regimes impacting the lives of people dependent on subsistence resources for their livelihood. Most significant and far-reaching in that regard

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has been the adoption in September 2007 of the United Nations Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which is now being used to apply international human rights principles and benchmarks to localized issues. Another contribution that indigenous people are making to research issues associated with sustainable development in the North is the qualitative dimension, particularly related to the impact of resource management decisions on the sustainability of family, community, and the cultural systems reflected therein. Whereas western-derived regulatory regimes for fish, game, and marine mammals tend to rely on individually allocated mechanisms such as quotas and licenses for the management of harvests, indigenous people are more likely to seek a community-oriented approach. For example, when the arctic caribou herd in the Kobuk River drainage of northern Alaska went into a precipitous decline a decade ago, the local regional Native organization petitioned the Department of Fish and Game to allocate the reduced hunt by community rather than by individual. Local hunting practice designated expert hunters in each community to bring in the meat so that everyone, from the single mothers to the elders, would have ample food. Unable (or unwilling) to alter the regulatory regime to accommodate this request, Fish and Game enforcement officials chose instead to look the other way so long as the total take of caribou did not exceed the total of the individual allocations. This incident has led the Alaska Department of Fish and Game to place a renewed emphasis on its Subsistence Division, which has been staffed as much by anthropologists as by the biologists who typically rule in that domain. Finally, along with the emphasis on community sustainability, indigenous worldviews are more inclined to see humans as a subset of the natural world in which they are precariously situated, rather than to see nature as a repository of resources for human exploitation. Though this orientation to the natural world is often misunderstood and misrepresented in nonindigenous contexts, its spiritual and tangible connotations are very much a continuing aspect of Alaska indigenous subsistence livelihood, and thus they underlie indigenous perspectives on the sustainability of all resources.

Native Participation in Decision Making When examining resource utilization issues in the circumpolar region, we must consider the historical context, particularly in terms of who is determining what the rules of engagement are to be and how those rules are to be implemented. In the colonial era, resources were viewed as subject to the wishes and imperatives of a nation-state form of government and a market-oriented economic system. Little thought was given to the implications for the traditional knowledge, beliefs, skills, and practices of the colonized indigenous societies.

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Indigenous people have begun to assert their “aboriginal rights” to selfdetermination and self-government and assume control over various aspects of their lives. As they have done so, one of the first tasks they have faced has been to reconstruct the institutional infrastructures and practices (established by colonial bureaucrats) to make them more suitable to their needs as a people with their own worldview, identity, and history. In some instances, the initial tendency has been to accept the inherited structures without question and perpetuate the systems that were in place before, including their implicit forms of decision making, social stratification, and control. In most cases, however, there have been deliberate efforts to modify the colonial institutions, or create new institutional and political structures in which indigenous cultural forms and values are taken into account wherever possible. Examples of such structures include the Inuit Circumpolar Conference, the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission, and the Eskimo Walrus Commission, along with various “co-management” organizations. The inherent tensions involved in these undertakings are illustrated repeatedly by the often conflicting events and actions surrounding environmental and resource management issues that impact all aspects of the societies involved. Table 2.8.1 outlines some of the characteristics associated with varying levels of engagement that illustrate the range of possible relationships between Native people and western institutional structures. While institutional authorities, through their own deliberate action, can influence the way an institution interacts with its clientele, there are many other ways, some obvious and some not so obvious, in which institutions can present unintended structural barriers to the accommodation of Native community concerns and perspectives. Such barriers may exist in any feature of the institution in which there is potential for different cultural beliefs and practices to influence the attitudes and behavior of institutional participants (see Meek, Chapter 5.4 this volume). This includes implicit behavioral routines, such as the way people are expected to communicate and interact with one another, and the way decision making and leadership are exercised. It also includes explicit institutional routines such as recruitment and selection procedures, the way time and space are structured, and the criteria and techniques used to judge people’s performances. Action often speaks louder than the rhetoric that accompanies it, and only levels five through seven on the engagement chart allow opportunities for Native people to exert significant influence on the decision-making processes. It is possible to reduce some of the institutional barriers by training non-Native participants to recognize how organizational and administrative practices favor some people over others and encourage them to develop practices that take cultural diversity into account. Such an approach does not, however, address accompanying inequities in the distribution of power in the institution, nor is it the most effective or efficient means of building cultural sensitivity into institutional practices. Native

156â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems Table 2.8.1. Levels of Engagement: Alaska Natives and Western Institutional Structures. Level

Manifestation

Level 0 —IGNORE/OVERIDE DIFFERENCES

Assimilation policies Historical posture of colonial institutions

Level 1—TOKEN RECOGNITION

Co-optation Native employees as window dressing Position without authority Political response without commitment Rhetoric without action (lip service)

Level 2—NON-NATIVE AS EXPERT

Non-Native serves as “expert” on Native issues Translator of Native views and ways Expert witness in court proceedings

Level 3—ADVISORY ROLE

Task forces or committees providing input Local advisory councils

Level 4—NATIVE PARTICIPATION IN NON-NATIVE SYSTEM

ANCSA Regional Corporations Native faculty Regional school boards Elders-in-Residence

Level 5—COEXISTENCE (Side-by-side)

Tribal Colleges (Ilisagvik) Ya ne da nah School (Chickaloon) Alaska Inter-Tribal Council Native Educator Associations Co-management structures Traditional medicine in hospital setting Alaska Native Science Commission Eskimo Whaling and Walrus Commissions

Level 6—INTEGRATED SYSTEMS (Reconciliation)

ANCSA Village Corporations Alaska Rural Systemic Initiative Sentencing Circles in court system Iñupiat Ilitqusiat and NANA Regional Strategy Cross-Cultural Education Development Program Iñupiaq Numeracy

Level 7—CULTURALLY BASED SYSTEMS (Independent or sui generis)

Yupiit Nation and Self-determination Indian Country and Sovereignty Spirit/Cultural Camps (Old Minto, Gaalee’ya) Alaska Native Reawakening Project Teaching with, in, or through the culture

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people, with appropriate training and the opportunity to bring their unique perspective and skills, are generally in a better position to break down institutional barriers to Native participation because they are more likely to have inherent within them the necessary cultural predispositions. They must also, however, have the incentive and support to take culturally appropriate initiatives in the restructuring of organizational and administrative practices, or they will simply perpetuate the inequities built into the existing system (see Radenbaugh and Pederson, Chapter 2.5, this volume). Bringing administrative responsibility for the delivery of services to the level of the Native community is a critical step if those services are to reflect local cultural considerations. Such a step, however, demands that the administrator be familiar with and sensitive to features of the local cultural system that few people from outside the system are likely to develop. It becomes imperative, therefore, that Native people assume those administrative responsibilities and be given the latitude to introduce their own modus operandi in response to the needs and conditions in the community. Efforts to achieve “cultural fit” may require changes in institutional features ranging from the simple rescheduling of daily activities to a rethinking of the very function of the institution. Persons fully immersed in the cultural community being served are in the best position to recognize and act upon the discrepancies between institutional and cultural practices that interfere with the performance of the institution (see Becker, Chapter 2.4, this volume). Moving the control of services closer to the community and bringing Native people into decision-making and management roles is a critical and necessary step toward transforming western bureaucratic institutions—such as schools, corporations, or government agencies—into more culturally sensitive institutions. However, that step in itself is not sufficient to achieve the equity and sustainability of services that is needed. In addition to possessing all of the bureaucratic and technical skills necessary to maintain a western-style institution, the Native administrator must also understand how the institution can be made to fit into the Native world without subverting essential features of that world. When such a transformation of existing institutions is not possible without losing more cultural ground than is gained, the Native administrator must also have the skill to build new kinds of institutions that can respect and be reconciled with the cultural values that are implicit in a level six or seven form of engagement (see Gerlach et al., Chapter 2.6, this volume).

Developing Culturally Responsive Institutions To be truly responsive to Native concerns, an institution must not only reflect an awareness of Native cultural values and practices, but also convey an attitude

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of respect for those values and practices. This must be done in such a way that Native people feel a sense of ownership with regard to the institution and see it as incorporating their traditions and perpetuating their interests. So long as the institutional decision-making processes are in the hands of non-Native decisionmakers (regardless of how well-intentioned), Native people are going to feel shut out as equal participants in those institutions. But it is not enough to invite a token Native representative to “bring a Native perspective” to the decision-making arena, or to hire a token Native employee to integrate the staff and appease the critics (i.e., level one). Nor is it enough to have Native people in professional or supervisory roles using conventional bureaucratic-style criteria to perpetuate western institutional values. Such gratuitous avenues of participation are too easily subverted by the weight of western bureaucratic machinery and do little to counteract the cultural distance between western-style institutions and Native people. To develop a sense of institutional ownership, Native people must feel they are a part of the action and are a party to decision-making from top to bottom, beginning to end. They must be on the delivery end of institutional services, not just on the receiving end. If such a transformation is to take place, institutions must adopt a participatory approach to decision making whereby everyone who is affected by an institution, whether as producer or consumer of institutional services, has an opportunity to influence the way the institution operates. This requires multiple avenues of access to the decision-making process, so that everyone can contribute in a manner consistent with their relationship to the institution and with their style of participation and decision making. It also involves a horizontal distribution of power, so that all of the decision-making authority is not vested in a top-down hierarchical structure (see Haley and Eicken, Section 7, this volume). Participatory decision making is at the heart of any process that seeks to strengthen the degree of control people have over their lives. Increased Native participation in institutional decision making can be achieved through a variety of mechanisms. These range from the establishment of affirmative action and career ladder programs that strengthen Native presence in existing institutions to the creation of new institutions in which Native people sustain their cultural community through their own system of service institutions (e.g., tribal colleges, research programs, advocacy organizations). Other options include contracting with Native organizations to provide services to Native people, establishing Native councils or guardianships to oversee Native interests, employing Native elders to advise in areas of Native cultural and spiritual significance, and creating Native units within existing institutions through which Native people can manage their own affairs. Mechanisms such as these bring Native people into the decision-making arenas so they can begin to wield the power that is needed to shape their own destiny. It is not enough to be the beneficiaries of benevolent

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institutions. Native people must be full and equal participants in the shaping and operation of those institutions if they are to achieve true self-determination and sustainability.

Indigenous People in Multiple Roles: Cultural Bureaucrats, Advocates, and Mediators Once inside an institution in a professional, supervisory, or decision-making role, Native people often face another set of considerations that extend far beyond those of their non-Native counterparts. Personal aspirations on the part of a Native person in a position of authority can be bound to a whole range of cultural expectations and obligations that rarely enter into non-Native considerations (Barnhardt 2008). This is due in part to differences in cultural traditions, but it is also a function of the history of a beneficiary relationship between Native people and the institutions of a dominant society (i.e., the institution is there to provide certain benefits and those who work in the institution are there to administer those benefits for the people). As indicated earlier, Native administrators must reconcile themselves to their role within the institution, but they are also expected to reconcile the relationship between the institution and its clientele. This may not always be easy, because the expectations of a Native community regarding an institution do not always coincide with those of the persons responsible for maintaining the institution. Given such circumstances, the administrator-cum-leader must choose to align either with the community being served or with the institution providing the services, or attempt to establish a middle ground as a mediator between the two. Each of these options leads to a different kind of role for the administrator vis-à-vis the community and the institution and therefore requires different kinds of skills. If primary allegiance is granted to the institution, the Native administrator takes on the mantle of a “bureaucrat” and is likely to pursue primarily personal career goals as a matter of survival in the institution, with little willingness to challenge any lack of institutional response to the unique concerns of the Native community. Having bought into the bureaucratic system, such a person is more likely to direct efforts in the community toward getting the community to understand the needs of the institution, than to initiate actions or raise issues that further complicate institutional tasks. The responsibility of the bureaucrat (Native or non-Native) is to maintain the established system as efficiently and effectively as possible by reducing the variables that the system has to deal with to the minimum necessary for survival. It is the rare bureaucrat who willingly introduces new complicating variables to the system. If bureaucratic institutions employ Native personnel with the intent of improving relations with Native communities, yet also expect them

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to take on a typical bureaucratic posture, they should not be surprised if the same old issues continue to resurface. While many benefits may be gained from such an arrangement, the greater share of those benefits will go to the individual and the institution, rather than to the community. Little is likely to be gained in terms of Native self-determination. If, on the other hand, a Native person enters a bureaucratic institution as an “advocate” for Native concerns while retaining primary allegiance to the community, a set of skills different from those of the bureaucrat come into play. The concern of the community advocate is to bring community perspectives to the attention of the institution and to mobilize community action to achieve appropriate changes in the system. To achieve community action goals, cultural, political, and legal skills are often more important than administrative or technical bureaucratic skills. Advocates tend to prefer positions that allow them to keep in close touch with the community (e.g., field offices), so that their institutional ties are often of a somewhat tenuous nature. Faced with a choice between alienation from the community and losing one’s job, the advocate is likely to choose the latter option. This can present the institution with a dilemma, because while commitment to institutional goals and procedures is expected on the one hand, the expertise of the Native community advocate can also be vital to effective implementation of those goals and procedures on the other. The root of the dilemma is not, however, in the lack of institutional commitment by the community advocate, but rather in the cultural distance between the functioning of the institution and the needs of the community (e.g., levels one to four). From the community advocate point of view, change must occur by bringing institutional practices into closer alignment with the expectations of the community being served, rather than the other way around. To the extent that the community advocate adequately represents community perspectives and the institution finds ways to accommodate those perspectives, that institution becomes an instrument of empowerment and service to Native people and thus to all of society. A third and more difficult posture that a Native person can assume as an authority in a non-Native-dominated institution is that of “mediator” between the non-Native and Native cultural worlds. While such a posture can lapse into little more than fence-straddling, it also has the potential for creative application of the bicultural skills embodied in Native people. To function as mediator, a person must have a firm understanding of the essential qualities that make up the two (or more) worlds represented in the mediating arena, but just as important is an ability to see beyond existing circumstances so as to be able to create new options that reconcile differences in mutually beneficial ways. Bicultural skills must, therefore, be reinforced with institution-building skills, as well as with negotiation and persuasion skills. Such a combination of administrator and cultural broker can be a valuable

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asset to any institution, so long as the institutional power brokers recognize that mediation and accommodation are two-way processes. To be a successful mediator, a person must be able to establish co-membership in both the community and institutional arenas. To be recognized and supported by Native people and to have influence in Native arenas requires the ability to display oneself in ways that are characteristically Native and the ability to articulate issues in terms that make sense to Native people. To have credibility in the bureaucratic institutional arena requires the ability to command authority and display competence in ways that are characteristically non-Native. So to be an effective mediator as a Native administrator, one has to be able to shift readily back and forth between different authority structures, leadership styles, decision-making processes, communication patterns, and any other cultural variables that enter into the way people get things done. The task of the mediator becomes one of constantly juggling multiple often conflicting expectations and trying to determine where and how to seek changes to reconcile the differences in a mutually satisfactory way. Whether the task is to increase Native participation in decision making, improve communication, or develop culturally appropriate organizational policies, practices, and procedures, there is one set of skills paramount above all others, and that is a thorough grounding in Native cultural beliefs and practices. Without such grounding, administrators (Native or non-Native) are likely to lack the knowledge and credibility necessary to bridge the gap between existing institutions and Native people, regardless of how well-intentioned they might be. Unless they are prepared to bring relevant cultural skills to bear in their administrative practice, they are likely to experience the same frustrations that come with the lower levels of engagement between Native people and western institutions. Priority must be given, therefore, to the preparation of skilled Native practitioners who can apply their talents to the development of the kind of culturally sensitive and sustainable institutional structures and practices that are required if Alaska Natives are to achieve the degree of cultural and institutional independence needed to exercise Native control over Native affairs.

Conclusion The incongruities between western institutional structures and practices and traditional cultural forms have not been easy to reconcile. Even when all the resources of a national government are turned to the task, the complexities that come into play when two different cultural systems converge present a formidable challenge. The specialization, standardization, and compartmentalization that are inherent features of western bureaucratic organizations are often in direct conflict with

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practices in indigenous societies, which tend toward collective decision making, extended kinship structures, ascribed authority vested in elders, flexible notions of time, and traditions of informality in everyday affairs. It is little wonder then that resource management structures, which often epitomize western bureaucratic forms, have been found wanting in addressing sustainable development in traditional societies. However, the picture is not as bleak as it once was. Indigenous people themselves have begun to rethink their role and seek to blend old and new practices in ways that are more likely to fit the contemporary conditions of the people being served. Regardless of whether the development goals of a community are directed toward internal quality of life issues or external economic considerations, the steps being taken to improve cultural, community, and resource sustainability point toward greater involvement of indigenous people in everything from policymaking to monitoring and from research to management practices. In communities throughout the circumpolar region, indigenous people themselves are taking actions demonstrating that a significant “paradigm shift” toward the integration of indigenous knowledge systems and ways of knowing is already well under way. The emphasis is shifting consistently toward a focus on the utilization of local knowledge and people in the decision-making processes.

References Barnhardt, R. 1985. Maori makes a difference: Human resources for Maori development. Centre for Maori Studies and Research, University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand. Barnhardt, R. 1996. Indigenous perspectives on marine mammals as a sustainable resource: The case of Alaska. Paper presented at the Workshop on Sustainable Use of Marine Mammals in the North, Akureyri, Iceland. Barnhardt, R. 2008. Theory z + n: The role of Alaska Natives in administration. Democracy and Education 17(2), 15–22. Gell-Mann, M. 2010. Transformations of the twenty-first century: Transitions to greater sustainability. In Global sustainability: A Nobel cause. Edited by H. J. Schellnhuber, M. Molina, N. Stern, V. Huber, and S. Kadner. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Merculieff, L. 1990. Western society’s linear systems and aboriginal cultures: The need for twoway exchanges for the sake of survival. Paper presented at the Conference on Hunting and Gathering Societies, Fairbanks, Alaska. Merculieff, L. 1991. An indigenous people’s position paper on the management and use of the Bering Sea. Paper presented at Marine Mammal Conference, Anchorage, Alaska.

2.9

Climate Change and Creative Expression by mary beth leigh, krista katalenich, cynthia hardy, and pia m. kohler

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fforts to integrate indigenous peoples and perspectives in the International Polar Year agenda are not limited to agenda setting and the conduct of research in the field. This brief chapter showcases an interdisciplinary approach to education about climate change and sustainability, within which indigenous knowledge plays a central role. The project targeted underserved Alaska Native students while also successfully reaching nonNative students with strong academic backgrounds by integrating traditional and contemporary dance with creative writing and environmental science. The use of indigenous knowledge in education has been the focus of previous projects, including for example the project Math in a Cultural Context (Lipka et al. 2005). Projects such as these have the potential not only to transform students’ relationship with indigenous knowledge but also to forge connections among disciplines and their practitioners. Climate Change and Creative Expression is an interdisciplinary art and science course developed for middle-school children at Effie Kokrine Charter School in Fairbanks, Alaska. With a 90% enrollment of Alaska Native children, the school emphasizes Native culture and values. IPY has promoted the engagement of schoolchildren around the world with the science and issues of polar regions. This effort is unusual in that it was designed to target students from circumpolar regions to educate and engage them on regional issues by integrating indigenous knowledge and dance with contemporary science, writing, and dance. The course integrated creative writing and dance with climate change science and indigenous knowledge and was offered for early college credit to eighteen self-selected students in grades seven through ten. Enrollment included Alaska Native, Native American, Caucasian, and African American students. Some of the

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participating Alaska Native students had moved from remote villages in arctic and interior Alaska to attend this charter school. The course culminated in a book of poetry and a public performance including poetry readings, theater, dance, and music created and performed by the students. These works communicated their knowledge, thoughts, and feelings about climate change in Alaska. The class was taught primarily by a core team consisting of a university faculty biologist and dancer (Mary Beth Leigh), a university developmental English faculty (Cynthia Hardy), a master’s student in northern studies and dancer (Krista Katalenich), and a professional dancer and artistic director (Ira Hardy). A wide variety of one-time guest instructors included scientists, nature educators, musicians, and dancers. Indigenous knowledge was contributed through classes led by guest elders, musicians, and dancers from Athabascan and Iñupiaq cultures, enabling discussions of climate change issues impacting Alaska. Storytelling and question-and-answer sessions revealed firsthand observations and experiences with climate change via indigenous perspectives. This blend of instructors from differing disciplines promoted cross-pollination of ideas and perspectives among scientists, artists, and humanists from both Native and non-Native cultures and blurred the students’ perceived boundaries between science and the arts. The climate change science portion of the course included guest lectures by university scientists, hands-on experiments, and field trips to research sites. Classroom topics included climate change science and permafrost. Lessons in the paleontology of Alaska (with a slideshow and hands-on exercises with fossils) showed how climate has dramatically impacted fauna and flora over long time spans and how slight increases in water temperature affect fish stress (measured as goldfish breathing rates). Field trips were made to the UAF Large Animal Research Station to learn about temperature adaptations and climate change effects on arctic wildlife (muskoxen and caribou) and to the Bonanza Creek Long Term Ecological Research Site where monitoring of climate, vegetation, and permafrost is performed to learn how climate, permafrost, and plant ecological data are collected. A creative dance unit gave students the chance to gain dance and performance skills while reviewing and integrating science concepts and climatic and natural history observations made by Alaska Native guests. Dance education provides a number of benefits, including an increase in physical fitness, creativity, and critical thinking skills. Each lesson in the unit began with the Braindance, a series of movements based on the developmental cycle of infants. Doing the Braindance, created by creative dance educator Anne Green Gilbert, has provided increased concentration as well as other benefits to the brain. Students learned about the foundational dance elements of time, space, and energy. They explored these dance elements through exercises that tied together concepts about the environment such as glaciers forming and melting or river ice breaking up. Students learned to

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create dances with a beginning, middle, and end based on environmental themes. Students responded well to these movement exercises because most participate in Alaska Native dancing at school or within their communities. For the final performance, students worked together to create their own dance movements using knowledge of the dance elements gained throughout the class. Alaska Native knowledge was incorporated into the course through a visit by an Athabascan elder who shared stories and recollections of his life in Alaska, including his observations of how climate change has impacted life by changing subsistence fishing and hunting. An Iñupiaq dance group also taught students traditional dances about seal hunting and igloo building. The dancers talked about climate change and how it is affecting Iñupiaq villages through reduced sea ice, which harms productive seal hunting and causes coastal erosion that requires houses and villages to be relocated. In the course, creative writing proved to be a key element that tied the science and dance units together. Students developed skills of observation and language precision through writing exercises involving the five senses, active verbs and concrete nouns, invention, imagination, and memory. Each student wrote a portfolio of poems and responses to the science activities, and works from the entire class were combined into a booklet at the end of the session. Students drew on these poems and narratives to develop a script for the final performance. Students recorded poems, which were used as voiceover for transitions and dance portions in the performance. Development of the final performance script was an active and exciting collaborative process involving the instructors, students, and Alaska Native dance leader Sean Topkok. The performance truly synthesized science, art, and indigenous knowledge. The script was written through brainstorming exercises by the students and polishing by the instructors to construct a narrative that used student poetry with minimal editing as the text. A unifying theme of the play was the Council of All Beings, an exercise developed by Joanna Macy in which students choose a living being that they identify with and then speak as that being to humans about their concerns (Macy et al. 2007). Students chose various Alaska plants, animals, and insects and discussed how climate change affected them. Then they agreed to consult their elders (dinosaurs) about how climate change affected them. Sections of live drama were interspersed with creative dance pieces (e.g., ice melting, river breakup) and voiceover recordings of students reading their own poetry. One student accompanied the dance with a piano piece. A village scene was also presented in which students performed Iñupiaq dances such as the seal dance with dialogue discussing how seals are harder to hunt now that the sea ice is farther offshore. This was followed by an adapted version of the dance with much longer kayak paddling and searching for seals. A second dance was the igloo-building dance, which was

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performed again and again with students moving several steps over each time, symbolic of how coastal erosion requires rebuilding and relocation. The performance closed again with the Council of All Beings, stressing to the audience that change is not too late. This unusual integration of indigenous knowledge with science and creative arts generated excitement and fostered new insights by the students, instructors, and the audience.

References Lipka, J., M. P. Hogan, J. Parker Webster, E. Yanez, et al. 2005. Math in a Cultural Context: Two case studies of a successful culturally based math project. Anthropology and Education Quarterly 36(4), 367–385. Macy, J., J. Seed, A. Naess, and P. Fleming. 2007. Thinking like a mountain: Towards a Council of All Beings. Gabriola Island, BC: New Catalyst Books.

Section 2 aptly explains how traditional ecological knowledge is interwoven with the efforts of Alaska Natives and others to recognize changes in the environment and develop adaptation and mitigation strategies. This thread is picked up in the discussion of Alaska’s freshwater systems in Chapter 3.4 with a discussion of water resources at the community level in rural western Alaska. The primary focus of Section 3 is to explain the complex role fresh water plays in a state where the repetition of freezing and thawing above and below ground dramatically shapes physical formations of the landscape and structures ecosystem functioning. While the North is not usually thought of as a location where fresh water is a policy problem, compared to the annual shortages and droughts in the southern portions of the United States and the legacy of industrial pollution in the northeast, a warming climate will have a strong impact on Alaska’s hydrology. The disruption of the solid to liquid water cycles upon which people depend poses significant difficulty for private and public sectors. In uplands, thawing permafrost creates drier soils and freshwater provisions such as ponds disappear. Concurrently, lowland soils become wetter and produce wetlands (Chapin et al. 2006). In both cases, plant and animal species face dislocation and new “invasive” species can gain footholds. The built environment is also affected as road systems and other structures near and on top of permafrost shift in unplanned ways. Other examples include the systems of rivers across Alaska that serve as travelways for boats in open water and for snowmachines, dog teams, or pedestrians when frozen. As river ice becomes unpredictable, high costs are incurred by people in terms of damaged equipment, delays, and in some cases loss of life. Urban areas are not exempt from hydrological shifts. For example, north and northwest Alaska are becoming wetter with increases in precipitation of 20%–25% predicted for this century (National Assessment Synthesis Team 2001). This means that infrastructure will have to account for rain and ice not normally expected. Mike Coffey, the statewide maintenance and operations chief for the Alaska Department of Transportation and Public Facilities, reported at the May 2010 meeting of the US Polar Research Board that the longer seasonal transition periods from autumn to winter and winter to spring will require different and likely more costly approaches to handling precipitation and ice (Coffey 2010). For example, if the department must begin to salt roads, there will be numerous repercussions tied to increased salt in surface runoff and potentially groundwater, cumulative damage to vehicles, and simply the expense of shipping salt to remote locations. Consider, then, the complexity of this changing hydrologic system. As Chapter 1.4 points out, simultaneous to more precipitation is the drying of soils due to increased evaporation from consistent warming in higher latitudes. This poses a challenge to tree growth and those species dependent on forests. If, as indicators suggest, Alaska’s interior landscape shifts toward a prairie environment in the next several decades, what will the altered freshwater system look like? Where will communities best locate water, and what plant and animal species will flourish? Understanding the nature of Alaska’s hydrological cycle has been challenging, as Section 3 points out. However, the overriding importance of fresh water for drinking and sanitation alongside its

function on the landscape has not gone unnoticed by scholars, policymakers, and communities. This section presents data to benchmark Alaska’s fresh water, includes a discussion of its management since statehood, and addresses how we might plan for the changes to come. It combines a discussion of the hydrological cycle without ignoring the social feedbacks in the system. If we think of this edited volume as moving from the interior of the fundamental nature of Alaska as expressed in the cryosphere, with its people at the heart, to the outer edges of the marine system, we can see that the coastal margins of the state, at the ends of rivers, are a natural next subject area addressed in Section 4.

References Chapin, F. S. III, A. L. Lovecraft, E. S. Zavaleta, J. Nelson, M. D. Robards, G. P. Kofinas, S. F. Trainor, G. D. Peterson, H. P. Huntington, and R. L. Naylor. 2006. Policy strategies to address sustainability of Alaskan boreal forests in response to a directionally changing climate. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 103(45):16637–16643. Coffey, M. J. 2010. Arctic civil infrastructure and adaptation to climate change. Presentation made to the US Polar Research Board, May 21, 2010, Anchorage, AK. National Assessment Synthesis Team for the US Global Change Research Program. 2001. The potential consequences of climate variability and change: Foundation report. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 283–313. Retrieved from http://www.usgcrp.gov/usgcrp/ Library/nationalassessment/overviewalaska.htm.

3

Alaska’s Freshwater Resources

Section editors: Amy Tidwell and Dan White

PLATE 003 Disclosure Don Decker Mixed media on paper 30" x 40" 2009

3.1

Introduction by amy tidwell and dan white

T

he North by 2020 effort sought to assess issues of societal and ecological relevance in the International Polar Year. One of those issues, water, is a resource that draws all people together. In some ways the gathering of people around water enriches lives, such as in community events on the riverbank or the annual return to fishcamps. At other times, conflicts arise as divergent needs and desires for the same water are expressed. Alaska is a vast state. It spans 20 degrees of latitude (51° to 71° North) and 57 degrees of longitude (130° West to 173° East) and comprises more than 570,000 square miles of land. Because of its enormous extent, the state is typically divided into several geographic regions to characterize climate and hydrology. In this section, we will discuss the following regions (see Fig. 3.1.1): • • • • •

Arctic Alaska (also known as the Arctic Slope), bounded on the north by the Arctic Ocean and on the south by the Brooks Range; it is the northern extension of the Continental Divide. Western Alaska, bounded by the Chukchi Sea to the north, the Bering Sea to the west, and the Alaska Peninsula to the south. Interior Alaska, bounded on the north by the Brooks Range, on the south by the Alaska Range, and on the west by the vast and remote Western region. Southern and Central Alaska, bounded on the north by the Alaska Range and on the south by the Gulf of Alaska. Southeast Alaska, bounded on the south and west by the Gulf of Alaska and on the north and east by the Northeast Coastal Range.

The occurrence of fresh water across the landscape is determined by an interaction of climate, geology, and topography. Even with Alaska’s vast areal extent and 171

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Figure 3.1.1. Image of Alaska with regional delineations.

a wide variety of geographically distinct regions, water is found to be a prominent surface feature across all regions. The state contains some three million lakes, 12,000 rivers, and more than 60% of all wetlands in the United States (excluding Hawaii). The following sections provide an overview of the climate and surface conditions that are characteristic of Alaska’s regions and support its freshwater resources. The reader is referred to The Climate of Alaska by Shulski and Wendler (2007) for a more detailed discussion of the state’s climate.

Climate Arctic Alaska is classified as a semi-arid environment, experiencing an average of only 10 cm (4 inches) of total annual precipitation. With average annual temperatures around -12°C (10°F) and winter minimum temperatures around -34° to -28°C (-30° to -20°F), the atmosphere has low moisture content. Although the landscape is dominated by snow for much of the year, only 30–40% of the annual precipitation falls as snow. Precipitation is highly seasonal, with the majority occurring as rainfall from late summer to early fall, when air temperatures are near their annual maxima and Arctic Ocean sea ice has receded from the coastline. The

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temperature and precipitation climatologies for Barrow, Alaska, along the Arctic Ocean coastline, are shown in Figure 3.1.2. Interior Alaska exhibits a continental climate, which means it is isolated from the moisture source and temperature moderating influences of the ocean. This isolation occurs as a result of both distance to the ocean and the sheltering effect of major mountain ranges. As a result, this region experiences extremely large seasonal temperature variations, with an average high temperature in July around 21°C (70°F) and an average low temperature in January around -28°C (-20°F). Average annual precipitation for the Interior is moderate with approximately 32 cm (12.7 inches) of precipitation per year. Maximum precipitation rates typically occur from mid-summer through fall, while the cold winters are accompanied by very low humidity and relatively low precipitation. Figure 3.1.3 represents the climatology for Fairbanks, Alaska, which is typical of the Interior region. Western Alaska exhibits a predominately maritime climate, which means the climate is strongly influenced by its proximity to the Bering Sea and Pacific Ocean.

Figure 3.1.2. Long-term climate for Barrow, Alaska (71° 18’N, 156° 47’W), within the Arctic region. Data acquired from the Western Regional Climate Center (http://www.wrcc.dri.edu/summary/climsmak.html).

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Figure 3.1.3. Long-term climate for Fairbanks, Alaska (64° 50’, 147° 43’W), within the Interior region. Data acquired from the Western Regional Climate Center (http://www.wrcc.dri.edu/summary/climsmak.html).

This region experiences frequent storms from early fall through winter and typically has peak precipitation from late summer through fall, averaging 25–50 cm (10–20 inches) annually. Although the mean annual temperature is not very different from Interior Alaska, the moderating effect of the ocean causes Western Alaska to have a much smaller temperature range. Average July high temperatures are 11° to 17°C (52° to 63°F), while average January lows are around -23° to -17°C (-10°to -1°F). The climate for Bethel, Alaska, is shown in Figure 3.1.4. Southcentral Alaska experiences a mix of maritime and continental climate influences. This results from the proximity to the Gulf of Alaska and Cook Inlet along with topographic effects of the Chugach Range and the Alaska Range. Temperatures in this region are moderate throughout the year, with average July highs from 13° to 20°C (55° to 68°F) and average January lows from -17° to -8°C (2° to 17°F). The year-round open water of the Pacific Ocean serves as an important

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Figure 3.1.4. Long-term climate for Bethel, Alaska (60° 47’N, 161° 48’W), within the Western region. Data acquired from the Western Regional Climate Center (http://www.wrcc.dri.edu/summary/climsmak.html).

moisture source, and the region experiences between 40 and 170 cm (16–67 inches) of precipitation per year. Though precipitation occurs throughout the year, the peak season is generally from July through October. The climate for Anchorage, Alaska, located in the Southcentral region, is shown in Figure 3.1.5. Southeast Alaska is the warmest and wettest region in the state. Situated along the Gulf of Alaska and backed by the rugged Coastal Range, it has a maritime climate with topographically enhanced precipitation. Mean annual precipitation in this region ranges from 147 to 406 cm (58 to 160 inches), with monthly averages exceeding 10 cm (4 inches) year round. As with most maritime climates, summers are cool and winters moderate; average July highs are 14° to 18°C (57° to 65°F), while average January lows are just below freezing at -7° to -1°C (19° to 31°F). Juneau, Alaska, located along the Alaska panhandle, is typical of this region (Fig. 3.1.6).

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Figure 3.1.5. Long-term climate for Anchorage, Alaska (61° 1’N, 150° 01’W), within the Southcentral region. Data acquired from the Western Regional Climate Center (http://www.wrcc.dri.edu/summary/climsmak. html).

Occurrence of Freshwater Resources With the majority of Alaska lying above 60° north latitude, it is not surprising that snow, ice, and frozen soils play a dominant role in controlling the freshwater resources. In fact, regional hydrology in much of the state is typically characterized by the relative influence of spring snow melt, glacial melt, and the presence and distribution of permafrost on the timing and distribution of water at the land surface. Snow acts as a natural water reservoir by storing solid precipitation that accumulates during the winter and then releasing this water in a relatively short period of time during spring thawing. Even in semi-arid regions such as arctic Alaska, where precipitation is low and snowfall accounts for only 30% of annual precipitation totals, spring snow melt is a significant hydrologic event that acts to replenish lakes and wetlands. In arctic Alaska, snowfall may accumulate for eight to nine months of the year and be released as melt water during a period of one to two weeks. In regions that experience seasonal rainfall of substantial magnitude, summer and fall

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Figure 3.1.6. Long-term climate for Juneau, Alaska (58° 22’N, 134° 35’W), within the Southeast region. Data acquired from the Western Regional Climate Center (http://www.wrcc.dri.edu/summary/climsmak.html).

storms may act as the most significant water inputs to streams, lakes, and wetlands. For some river basins, such as the Tanana River in Interior Alaska, glaciers act to regulate the input of water to river and lake systems. Glacier input tends to occur over a longer period of time than spring melt and usually peaks during the warmer months of late summer. Water that accumulates at the surface in the form of rivers, lakes, and wetlands is the result of the climate that drives freshwater input (snow, rain, glacial melt) as well as the characteristics of the landscape that determine how the water is distributed (see Fig. 3.1.7). Permafrost, which is soil that maintains sub-freezing temperatures for two or more years, plays an important role in water distribution. Permafrost creates an effective barrier to water infiltration into soils. Therefore its presence often leads to greater surface water storage because water arriving at the surface cannot move downward into the soil. According to Jorgenson et al. (2008), 29% of Alaska is underlain by continuous permafrost, 35% is subject to discontinuous permafrost, and another 16% is categorized as either sporadic or isolated permafrost.

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The distribution of permafrost, in addition to climate and underlying geology, is a primary determinant in the distribution of lakes and wetlands across Alaska. A recent study conducted by the US Geological Survey (Arp and Jones 2009) identified twenty major lake districts throughout the state. The districts were identified through spatial analysis of the number of lakes per area as well as total lake surface area. Ten of the districts occur in areas of continuous permafrost, with three more in discontinuous permafrost areas and two within areas of sporadically occurring permafrost. According to a report by the US Fish and Wildlife Service (Hall et al. 1994), wetlands represent 43% of Alaska’s land surface, with another 7% classified as deep water habitat. In this context, deep water habitat is considered to be permanently flooded areas with depths of at least 2 meters at low water. Again, permafrost plays a key role in the development of these surface water resources, and the regional distribution shows a larger fraction of surface area in wetlands for regions that are dominated by permafrost (arctic, western, and interior Alaska), as shown in Table 3.1.1.

Figure 3.1.7. The Fish River Delta on the Seward Peninsula, showing the stream channel and adjacent wetlands (photo by Dan White).

Alaska’s Freshwater Resourcesâ•…179 Table 3.1.1. Alaska wetlands by region (data from Hall et al. 1994). The coastal region represents all areas along the coast line; southern region includes the Aleutian Islands, southcentral, and southeast areas of the state; arctic, interior, and western regions are as previously defined.

Region

% Area in Wetlands

Arctic

61%

Western

62%

Interior

44%

Southern

13%

Coastal

10%

Rivers and streams are also prominent features across Alaska. According to the US Geological Survey, approximately one third of all river runoff (i.e., the portion of precipitation that ultimately finds its way into stream channels) in the United States is from Alaska. And the patterns of runoff, such as the timing of peak flow and the relative importance of snow, rain, and glaciers, vary considerably among the state’s 12,000 streams. Figure 3.1.8 shows the major rivers in Alaska. The Yukon River basin serves as a good example of the range of runoff patterns that occur throughout Alaska. The drainage area of the basin totals more than 850,000 square kilometers, with eight major tributary rivers and average annual runoff of 5,600 cubic meters per second (200,000 cubic feet per second). The patterns of runoff vary according to the influence of lakes and wetlands (moderating effect on flow), glacier-melt contribution (gradual mid- to late summer flow increases), winter snow accumulation (distinct spring snowmelt flow increases), seasonal rainfall patterns (more variable and rapid streamflow response), and the presence of permafrost (controlling surface water–groundwater interactions). The reader is referred to Environmental and Hydrologic Overview of the Yukon River Basin, Alaska and Canada by Brabets, Wang, and Meade (2000) for a more detailed review of this extensive river system. As is the case around the world, freshwater resources in Alaska are essential to human communities, ecological function, and economic development. The region does, however, have many unique challenges to managing its water resources. These challenges include improving our knowledge of the arctic system and hydrologic cycle, developing natural resources under extreme climate and environmental conditions, maintaining environmental integrity, and supporting traditional ways of life. The following chapters discuss several of the topics and research efforts that address these challenges in Alaska and the broader pan-Arctic region. Chapter 3.2

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Figure 3.1.8. Delineation of major rivers in Alaska.

captures Jedediah Smith’s perspective on the history of water policy development in Alaska; in Chapter 3.3, Dan White, Jonathan Pundsack, Jessie Cherry, and Amy Tidwell report on the state of freshwater science; in Chapter 3.4, Andrew Kliskey and Lilian Alessa discuss aspects of the role of fresh water in Alaska’s rural communities; and in Chapter 3.5, Amy Tidwell, Dan White, and Andrew Kliskey discuss two resources that could aid in planning for change.

References Arp, C. D., and B. M. Jones. 2009. Geography of Alaska lake districts: Identification, description, and analysis of lake-rich regions of a diverse and dynamic state. US Geological Survey Scientific Investigations Report 2008–5215, 40 pp. Brabets, T. P., B. Wang, and R. H. Meade. 2000. Environmental and hydrologic overview of the Yukon River Basin, Alaska and Canada. US Geological Survey Water-Resources Investigations Report 99-4204, 106 pp. Hall, J. V., W. E. Frayer, and B. O. Wilson. 1994. Status of Alaska wetlands. US Fish and Wildlife Service, Anchorage, Alaska, 32 pp. Jorgenson, T., K. Yoshikawa, M. Kanevskiy, Y. Shur, V. Romanovsky, S. Marchenko, G. Grosse, J. Brown, and B. Jones. 2008. Permafrost characteristics of Alaska. Proceedings

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of the Ninth International Conference on Permafrost, June 29–July 3, 2008, Fairbanks, Alaska. Martin, P. D., J. L. Jenkins, F. J. Adams, M. T. Jorgenson, A. C. Matz, D. C. Payer, P. E. Reynolds, A. C. Tidwell, and J. R. Zelenak. 2009. Wildlife response to environmental arctic change: Predicting future habitats of Arctic Alaska. US Fish and Wildlife Service, Fairbanks, Alaska, 138 pp. Shulski, M., and G. Wendler. 2007. The climate of Alaska. Fairbanks, Alaska: University of Alaska Press.

3.2

Alaska Freshwater Policy Development since Statehood by jedediah smith

Freshwater Policy Context

I

n the fifty years since Alaska became a state, billions of federal dollars have been allocated for freshwater infrastructure such as sanitation, delivery, flood control, and water use. Additionally, new layers of regulation attempting to control water quality and use by households, municipalities, and industries have been imposed. Yet, in spite of improvements in technology and learning, much remains unknown about Alaska’s freshwater resources. Climate warming is bringing about rapid change in the Arctic, expressed as temperature increases that are twice as high as averages in the rest of the world. In the Alaska Arctic, average temperatures have increased almost two degrees Celsius in the last twenty years, raising concern that water temperatures may rise to the detriment of some fish habitat (Hassol 2004). The effects of a changing climate on public infrastructure could cost the state more than $32 billion by 2030 (Larsen et al. 2007). Alaska is in a relatively early stage of building capacity to cope with water-related challenges such as allocation, availability, and the maintenance of high water quality among competing uses. Yet at the same time the physical environment is changing rapidly and the state is witnessing the impacts of climate change on its freshwater systems. The manifestations of climate change in Alaska are intertwined with these water challenges on many levels and will invariably affect the course of society’s interaction with the environment. The major social pressures on Alaska’s freshwater systems are increased resource development and population changes. In concert with a changing climate, these pressures pose a threat to regular provision of fresh water for multiple users from small-scale households to large-scale mining operations.

183

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The multiple ecosystem functions of fresh water make its use difficult to characterize and present a particular challenge for managers and policymakers (Ostrom 1962). Fresh water is important for household and industrial consumptive uses as well as habitat for productive fisheries and migratory waterfowl. Resource managers in Alaska have expressed a strong need for increased knowledge of the natural freshwater systems so that demand can be met for multiple uses ( Jackson-Smith et al. 2007). Limited knowledge of present environmental changes may magnify the consequences of decisions with long-term or broad impacts, particularly if they fail to acknowledge or account for the multiple uses of fresh water (Folke 2003). Since Alaska achieved statehood in 1959, management of fresh water has developed in fits and starts. The state’s social transformation has largely been the result of increased federal spending. The federal government spent billions of dollars on urban sewer and water treatment, helping cities to accommodate population growth while maintaining compliance with federal water quality regulations. In the 1970s, Alaska became a major energy supplier when the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System came online. The demand for freshwater resources increased. Coalitions, or organized groups of interested stakeholders advocating for policy solutions, formed around various freshwater uses. In the thirty years that followed, a series of coalition shifts took place around regionally specific water problems, as well as around federally mandated regulatory changes that affected industrial development. These shifting coalitions have resulted in a general failure to identify one overarching statewide goal of comprehensive, long-term water resource management. The state’s vast land size and availability of water for a variety of uses including fish habitat, ice road construction, municipal and household consumption, mining, and transportation have inhibited coalitions from identifying one galvanizing issue. These coalitions have driven resource agency response yet hindered capacity building to monitor long-term change or make adequate appropriation decisions. While no major conflict has yet arisen, managers acknowledge the potential for future conflict. It is vital to consider potential for conflict among water users because the state has struggled to comply with federal command and control regulations and it has sometimes responded to crisis with untested practices that, in some cases, have led to unanticipated consequences or wicked problems. The current institutional framework for management of fresh water is a fragmented system in which agencies responsible for specific components of freshwater management are “siloed” or act independently in conflicting roles, to respond to tightly focused problems. Additionally, Alaska’s vast geography and abundant freshwater resources (glaciers, lakes, rivers, and groundwater) coupled with a low population density and relatively little agricultural development have reinforced a lack of urgency to manage fresh water for multiple or competing uses. State-level management and appropriation institutions that are rigid, coupled with this perception that Alaska has abundant

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freshwater resources, have discouraged incentives to participate in forming new and perhaps better rules for appropriation or management. The result is the lack of a comprehensive structure for an overall policy of how fresh water in Alaska should be managed. In this policy setting, Alaska is on the cusp of gaining more autonomy over governing fresh water. Recently the state obtained primacy from the Environmental Protection Agency to issue National Pollution Discharge Elimination Systems permits, one of the last of a remaining handful of states to do so. Primacy will require the state to ramp up management capacity. At the same time, the US Geological Survey, which has operated stream-gauging stations in the state, has worked toward relieving itself of this responsibility by attempting to cultivate private–public partnerships with regional watershed councils, tribal entities, or other government entities, due to a declining trend in federal funding for Alaska projects. The challenge for Alaska in the next fifty years will be to shift freshwater management from a government framework, one that has struggled to achieve an overall coherence and at times even enabled recurring problems or conflicts, to a governance regime that is more nimble and able to adapt to specific freshwater changes, demands, and regional use patterns. Carl Folke, Johan Colding, and Fikret Berkes have argued that ecosystems that were once capable of adapting to sudden or gradual naturally occurring changes, and fed into adaptive processes within the social system, are no longer buffered by ecosystem resilience. They suggest that social institutions must be developed to deal with the mutual impact that social and natural behaviors have on one another (Berkes et al. 1993). Ostrom, in her work on the evolution of collective action institutions, has shown that oversight ensures equitable solutions, but that if an outside party provides the cost of supplying these institutions, users have little incentive to not “free-ride.” Then the problem for some appropriators is how to present the “facts” of the local situation in such a way that officials who may not know the local circumstances well will be led to create institutions that will leave some individuals better off than others. (Ostrom 1990) How, then, might Alaska transition from a governance regime that relies heavily on federal funding and institutional rule sets to one that is able to absorb rulesin-use that achieve sustainable management of freshwater? Scholars and federal managers alike have endorsed Kirkpatrick Sale’s vision of decentralized, basinscale governance as conceptualized in his book Dwellers on the Land. Douglas Kenney, through his work with the University of Colorado’s Resource Law Center,

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developed the institutional models for Watershed Councils, including a virtual how-to book that covered legal frameworks for building local initiatives and also included a list of policy recommendations. And the US Environmental Protection Agency has looked to the watershed partnership model to address the complex management of non-point source pollution of waterways. Additionally, there are numerous case studies of outcomes that measure activity, failure, success, participation, incentives, and outcomes. So it is not beyond precedent that Alaska, as one way to adapt to more localized governance of fresh water, could look to regional partnerships as a way to broaden participation in the collective management of the state’s freshwater resources by engaging local users in effective institutional design.

The History of Freshwater Policy Development By virtue of its geographic isolation and low population, Alaska has grappled with self-governance. Federal mismanagement of salmon fisheries in the early part of the twentieth century ultimately led to the push for statehood. But a reliance on federal funding, along with large federal landholdings, has prevented the state from developing the autonomy many have desired (Haycox 2002). Alaska’s water allocation policies are grounded first and foremost in the doctrine of prior appropriation, similar to that of most western states. Prior appropriation is outlined in the Alaska Constitution’s Natural Resources section, which designates Alaska’s resource use for the benefit of all Alaskans. The Alaska Constitution neither explicitly defines beneficial use nor designates a specific state agency or agencies to address water use. It says that water “shall be limited to state purposes and subject to preferences among beneficial uses, concurrent or otherwise, as prescribed by law, and to the general reservation of fish and wildlife” (Article VIII, Sec. 13, Alaska Constitution). Prior appropriation is further developed in state statute and regulation, and rights may also be withdrawn or limited to reallocate the water to a use that has a higher public priority (Harrison 2002). Freshwater policy in Alaska has been the result of a temporal trajectory that is bounded by eras of social and economic development in the state’s history. Policies have addressed problems of the present while deferring decisions about the future of resources or without acknowledging possible future impacts. For example, in the 1960s, the new state struggled to form laws and policies that would enable growth and development and yet protect the state’s resources from being exploited by outside interests. As coalitions formed around addressing concerns such as compliance with federal turbidity rules, new institutions arose, notably the state’s Water Resources Board (existing from 1966 to 1993), which was designed as an advisory body to consider development proposals that would affect water resources

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appropriation. Conservation interests began to gain influence, and thus policies reflected precaution and at the same time supported development. This era soon gave way to the booming years of oil development in the 1970s when the TransAlaska Pipeline was constructed, bringing new population growth, wealth, and a renewed sense of individual freedom. Increased attention by the federal government meant that policies such as the Clean Water Act constrained Alaska’s rejection of regulatory authority. In the 1980s, urban growth placed new demands on government, such as the need for expanded urban sanitation services. It brought new problems such as increased frequency of underground fuel spills contaminating water supplies. This era resulted in increased oversight and means for allocating resources, yet the state government was also entering an era of limited funding. In the 1990s, rural Alaska’s lack of access to clean water came to the forefront, and more than $1 billion was spent on upgrading and modernizing village sanitation systems. While this development increased health indicators in many rural regions, particularly in western Alaska, it was not accompanied by legal water rights for the communities, and the long-term ability of rural communities to absorb the expensive infrastructure was not fully understood. By the end of the millennium, as state agencies struggled to address new impacts of development on water resources, public–private partnerships and informal institutions began to develop. Volunteer organizations from the Yukon River to Southeast Alaska began collecting water quality data for the state, which in turn developed programs to assist these organizations, actually broadening the tools necessary for adequate management decision making. These watershed partnerships were characterized as self-organized regional nongovernmental entities interested in the health and protection of freshwater resources. They comprised private interests, agency expertise, and citizen involvement with an emphasis on consensus building. They addressed regionally specific freshwater concerns including habitat restoration and identifying, monitoring, and correcting non-point source pollution problems. Some partnerships had strong educational focuses, while others were able to capture federal money by enlisting tribal involvement for things such as mapping and waste cleanup. The administration of Alaska Governor Tony Knowles initiated the Alaska Clean Water Actions (ACWA) grant program in 2002 to channel EPA money to these organizations, which then began sharing information with each other. The ACWA grant program specifically targeted non-point source pollution runoff from urban waterways, agricultural areas affected by pesticides and herbicides, and other waterways affected by diffuse contaminants that were not “end-of-pipe.” However, there was a palpable sense of competition for state and federal money and resources among the various partnerships, and they were not able to “institutionalize” themselves into the policy-making process by strongly promoting their helpful

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functions. Starting in 2003, Governor Frank Murkowski’s administration marked a dramatic shift in the regulation of freshwater systems. First, the Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) announced it would no longer channel EPA money through the ACWA program to volunteer organizations such as watershed partnerships, claiming the agency could not oversee volunteer monitoring and that the data collected weren’t useful (Gay 2003). Then the administration announced changes to mixing zone regulations that allowed the dumping of pollutants into salmon spawning areas (Dobbyn 2004). And finally, DEC made significant progress on its National Pollutant Discharge Elimination System (NPDES) primacy application to the EPA, despite the agency’s acknowledged lack of capacity to issue the discharge permits. The measures were viewed by conservation critics as reductions in environmental protections and were generally favored by industry.

A Tale of Two Policies In 2007, Congress passed the Alaska Water Resources Act, which approved increased funding to the US Geological Survey (USGS) to conduct further studies on groundwater and surface water resources in areas of projected population growth, notably the Matanuska Valley and Fairbanks. The legislation was written primarily by resource agency officials at the USGS and was sponsored by Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski. Congress approved the act with little fanfare or attention from the general public or the media. The Alaska Water Resources Act expanded stream gauging capability for the federal agency and enabled an expansion in the state’s water resource monitoring capacity. However, by 2009, Congress had not actually appropriated the funding for the act, and the agency remained under the fiscal constraints of a continuing budget resolution. In fact, USGS was actually reducing the number of stream gauges it maintained, even in important and highprofile watersheds such as the Copper River. There, USGS has entered into a contract agreement with the environmental nongovernmental organization Ecotrust to operate and maintain a stream gauging station. In 2008, a coalition of recreational fishing interests and Alaska Natives worked through the ballot initiative process to oppose the development of the Pebble Mine project, a large copper and gold deposit in Southwest Alaska. The Pebble Mine and other large-scale natural resource development projects, such as the Donlin Creek Mine in the Kuskokwim watershed and the Kensington Mine in Southeast Alaska, have the potential to create new jobs in rural, economically depressed parts of the state. Yet the projects also threaten to damage the habitat of strong salmon populations on which commercial and subsistence fishing interests rely (Bluemink 2007). The Clean Water Ballot Initiative eventually failed to meet the approval

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of Alaskans, who voted nearly 58% against it. However, proponents and opponents spent heavily to try to influence the election in the high-profile campaign. Subsequently, new attention has been drawn to the state’s permitting process and the management of fresh water. The two events, the passage of the Alaska Water Resources Act and the defeat of the Clean Water Ballot Initiative, indicate the continued polarity among Alaskans over natural resources. The Alaska Water Resources Act, a state-backed federal agency’s request for more funding to research water resources to make allocation and appropriation decisions, is essentially a not-so-subtle admission that more research is needed to accommodate future changes in population and development. The Clean Water Initiative, on the other hand, was a more sharply defined criticism of the agency’s ability to make decisions about water resources. The outcome indicates that voters have different perceptions of agency ability to manage fresh water, even though opinions favor development and seem to consider current agency capacity as adequate. Where the Water Resources Act builds capacity, the Clean Water Ballot Initiative would have constrained future decisions. Instead it served as a referendum affirming that the state possesses adequate capacity. That the two policy windows opened at roughly the same time indicates that the state is at a crossroads and provides an opportunity to reflect on current tools for the management of fresh water and how perceptions will guide use of those tools in the future. Fifty years after statehood, there exists little coherent consensus about how to move forward with Alaska’s freshwater management. This is in part because there has yet to emerge one single problem or threat under which stakeholders or managers can unify. For example, in Oregon and Washington, the federal threat of an Endangered Species Act listing of pacific salmon due to land use, commercial fishing, and development of hydroelectric projects led to the formation of new local and regional rules and institutions aimed at avoiding federal sanctions associated with a listing (Oregon 1997). But Alaska has yet to confront such a problem. Whether fresh water is affected by development of extractive resources or undergoes changes in availability due to climate change, Alaska will need to adopt new institutions to anticipate, identify, and ultimately address these conflicting uses of freshwater resources.

Current Framework and Future Opportunities Alaska’s boroughs were intended to unify local governments in an urban, areawide, and regional structure to provide administrative services for city governments and school districts. The authors of the state constitution originally intended that

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boroughs would cover the entire state (McBeath and Morehouse 1994), and, when both “organized” and “unorganized” boroughs are considered, they do. However, organized boroughs have the advantage of taxation capacity and the ability to provide services. Unorganized boroughs may be delineated by lines on a map, but they constitute no organized governing structure through which to make decisions or communicate with the federal or state government for financial assistance for infrastructure. These jurisdictions often overlap, and due to the plurality of organizations, conflict is inevitable. In addition to borough governments, more than five hundred local and regional institutions exist in rural Alaska, including traditional Native governments, state-authorized municipalities, Native regional and local corporations, nonprofit associations, and rural school districts. These entities hold various capacities and authority to tax and manage their jurisdictions (McBeath and Morehouse 1994). Alaska’s distribution of organized local government does not equally cover the state’s sparse and scattered population. Regional administrative boundaries such as boroughs in many cases cut across ecosystems. Further, some communities exist within formalized governments, while others exist outside or beyond local boundaries. Borough governments have the authority to tax properties, establish land use rules, and provide services, all of which can directly or indirectly affect land and water use. While in some cases these local governments may increase governance complexity, they also may provide organization through which to implement decisions and persuade resource management agencies. On the other hand, the potential for trans-boundary conflict exists among communities that may benefit from services while not directly contributing to them. Some communities outside of local government jurisdiction may experience the negative impacts of decisions and have little recourse in the decision-making process. Alaska’s state institutions for managing fresh water are divided primarily among three agencies. The Department of Environmental Conservation’s Water Quality Division is charged with monitoring and implementing water quality as outlined in the federal Clean Water Act. The Department of Natural Resources’ Division of Mining, Land and Water makes water withdrawal and appropriation decisions for private individual use as well as for large resource extraction projects. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game’s Habitat Division is charged with managing water resources based on fish and wildlife habitat needs. Additionally, there are a number of federal agencies involved in freshwater decisionmaking, including the Army Corps of Engineers, US Geological Survey, Environmental Protection Agency, US Fish and Wildlife Service, and the National Park Service. Their roles vary based on a number of jurisdictional factors, and they sometimes overlap with each other as well as state practices. However, the role of federal involvement is intractable due to the 200 million acres of federally managed public lands. How Alaska’s institutions

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could have developed differently over the course of its history to this point is perhaps a less important question than how the state should use existing institutions and develop better ones. Advisory bodies exist in state government for the management of fisheries and wildlife, and for oil and natural gas. The Board of Fish and the Board of Game are two institutionalized examples of citizen representation on policymaking bodies that drive state management. Nested within each of these two boards are area regional advisory boards that recommend policy changes to the statewide board. Policies enacted by the state board are implemented by the management department. The Water Resources Board, until the early 1990s, functioned in a similar fashion, facilitating agency coordination and accepting input from diverse stakeholders such as the mining industry and fish and game interests. Funding for the Water Resources Board was eliminated during a period of declining oil revenue and cuts to the state’s budget. In a study of Alaska’s watershed partnerships, some regions have indicated that they are capable of helping agencies to address problems (e.g., habitat restoration and water quality monitoring) and provide education and outreach (Smith 2009). Just as advisory bodies contribute to agency decision making, public–private partnerships and nongovernmental organizations have displayed an important— even critical—role in freshwater management. The Department of Environmental Conservation, in efforts to fill gaps in water quality monitoring capacity, has turned to some nongovernmental organizations to assist in monitoring. The US Geological Survey has worked with some nongovernmental organizations to partner on stream gauging projects, of which Alaska has a glaringly low capacity. Fewer than 1% of the state’s water bodies are currently monitored for flow information (Estes 2001). As pressures increase to develop more of Alaska’s freshwater resources, it will be critical for the state to ramp up its capacity so it can adapt to both social and ecological changes. Individual agency informational gaps, coupled with the lack of a coherent overarching policy, indicate Alaska does not yet have the management capacity. Because the Alaska Constitution explicitly states that water resources must be managed for the benefit of all Alaskans, it is unrealistic to recommend that all decision making should be decentralized to the most basic and local level. State lawmakers have indicated that they are uncomfortable picking winners and losers by prioritizing certain uses over others in statute. It is not the intention here to use conflicts to cast management of fresh water in a bad light. Many states have proved they can effectively take over management of federal water quality permitting decisions. What these conflicts do suggest is a need for a more comprehensive adaptive co-management strategy. Incorporating local networks into agency decision making can increase the robustness of the overall policy process by increasing monitoring where agencies

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express gaps in knowledge. However, it is important to develop a standard metric around which to foster the growth and institutionalization of partnerships. Local partnerships may increase compliance with regulatory policies through reporting and monitoring. But without standard practices, partnership contributions are little more than idiosyncratic and anecdotal. Institutionalized local networks would be better equipped to absorb shocks such as agency realignment and sudden, politically influenced, administrative shifts in policy. They would be able to focus efforts on further developing programs that address local concerns, rather than competing for resources and struggling to “keep the lights on.” Alaska’s resource agencies are fragmented, and watershed council and partnership activities indicate the potential for a growing, decentralized capacity to manage the state’s fresh water at a basin scale. Their strength currently lies in their ability to observe changes and identify problems at a local scale. To take pressure off of overtaxed state water managers and to increase local participation, the state could reconstitute the Water Resources Board, creating an added layer of oversight for freshwater resource management decisions. The board should comprise a broad spectrum of Alaska interests, both spatially and operationally. Members should include rural residents as well as industrial developers. It should include Alaska Natives, subsistence users from urban and rural Alaska, sports fishing and hunting interests, commercial fishing interests, conservation interests, and scientific experts. In other words, it should look similar to many of the watershed partnerships across the state. Such a plan is not without its drawbacks. It is naive to assume the Water Resource Board could be reconstituted free of intervening politics. Current projects—large-scale mining proposals in several regions in the state—have raised freshwater use, adjudication, and regulation issues to a new level. They have polarized citizens and created discord between the public and regulators, as evidenced in the Clean Water Ballot Initiative campaign of 2008. Land and water use concerns extend beyond industrial development to access and use, such as the use of water on the North Slope to develop ice roads. Further, political appointments by the governor could disenfranchise the many while empowering the few. But as Kirkpatrick Sale argues, the bioregional approach can potentially overshadow political differences. As such, the state Water Resources Board could comprise representation from the state’s watershed councils organized bioregionally, rather than represented across industry or by special interests. A new Water Resources Board could thus bring together private and public stakeholders to form consensus-based decisions about the future of Alaska’s freshwater resources. Projects could couple water quality information with scientific needs such as water quantity and stream flow. The board could provide technical assistance to expedite in-stream flow res-

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ervation applications for ecosystem services and public access, while protecting the integrity of the public process that grants private access to fresh water. Alaska will need to find new ways to govern water resources. Facilitating activities and discussions at the watershed scale is one way to engage local rules and norms into the development of new freshwater institutions. The watershed partnership model has proved to be an effective institutional framework for managing some common pool resource problems in the lower forty-eight states, notably in addressing complicated non-point source pollution. Alaska’s partnerships in some cases have been effective in addressing discrete local problems, such as the Kenai Watershed Forum’s efforts to reduce hydrocarbons in the Kenai River through consensus building and collective action. Developing new institutional rules to anticipate, identify, adopt, or address these problems will be crucial to managing freshwater resources during the next fifty years.

References Berkes, F., Folke, C., and Colding, J. 1993. Navigating social-ecological systems. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bluemink, E. 2007. Court ruling may trouble Kensington and Pebble. Anchorage Daily News (May 26), D1. Dobbyn, P. 2004. Critics bash freshwater pollution plan. Anchorage Daily News (August 27), D1. Estes, C. C. 2001. The status of Alaska water export laws and water transfers. The American Society of Civil Engineers World Water and Environmental Resources Congress. Orlando, FL. Folke, C. 2003. Freshwater for resilience: A shift in thinking. Philosophical Transactions: Biological Sciences 358(1440), 11. Gay, J. 2003. DEC pulls water quality funding. Anchorage Daily News ( July 8), A1. Harrison, G. S. 2002. Alaska’s Constitution: A citizen’s guide (4th ed.). Juneau: Legislative Affairs Agency. Hassol, S. J. 2004. Arctic climate impact assessment: Executive summary. Cambridge, UK: AMAP, CAFF, IASC. Haycox, S. W. 2002. Alaska: An American colony. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Jackson-Smith, D., S. Marquard-Pyatt, C. Harris, A. L. Lovecraft, E. Shanahan, and P. Wanschneider. 2007. Water Resources Management Research and Education Needs Assessment Project: Final technical report. Inland Northwest Research Alliance. Larsen, P., S. Goldsmith, O. Smith, M. Wilson, K. Strzepek, P. Chinowsky, and B. Saylor. 2007. Estimating future costs for Alaska public infrastructure at risk from climate change. Anchorage: Institute of Social and Economic Research.

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McBeath, G. A., and T. Morehouse. 1994. Alaska politics and government. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Oregon. 1997. Coastal Salmon Restoration Initiative: The Oregon plan. Retrieved from http://www.governor.state.or.us/governor.html. Ostrom, E. 1990. Governing the commons: The evolution of institutions for collective action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ostrom, V. 1962. The political economy of water development. The American Economic Review 52(2), 10. Smith, J. R. 2009. Alaska freshwater policy development: Institutionalizing watershed councils and partnerships. M.A. thesis, University of Alaska Fairbanks.

3.3

The State of Water Science by jonathan pundsack, dan white, jessie cherry, and amy tidwell

T

he Arctic today is a system in transition, and the pace of change by some accounts is increasing (Rawlins et al. 2010). The possibility of a seasonally ice-free Arctic Ocean in the not-toodistant future—quite possibly within the next thirty-five to forty years—has drawn the attention of the world’s polar nations. This shift to a seasonally ice-free state is an emerging consensus view (e.g., Overpeck et al. 2005), and some believe that we have already crossed a tipping point in which the sea ice cover rapidly transitions to a new stable (seasonally ice-free) equilibrium state. While there will continue to be interannual fluctuations due to natural variability in the climate system, warmer and shorter winters, and substantial decreases in ice and snow cover are among the projected changes in the arctic system that are likely to persist for centuries to come (ACIA 2004). The attention paid to sea ice, a major freshwater component of the Arctic, has led many to ask: What is the state of our knowledge of the arctic freshwater cycle?

Arctic Hydrology Research and Synthesis In the years prior to the Fourth International Polar Year, intensive efforts were launched to better understand the arctic hydrologic cycle. For its part, the National Science Foundation funded the Community Hydrological Arctic Modeling Project and, as part of this, the Freshwater Integration Study (FWI). While the group of scientists and engineers that contributed to FWI were only a fraction of those working in the field, it offered a good representation of the work that is being done, synthesis of the work, and ultimately the state of the science. The NSF Freshwater Integration Study was guided by four overarching questions: 195

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Question 1: What are the major features (i.e., stocks and fluxes) of the panarctic water balance and how do they vary over time and space? Question 2: How will the arctic hydrological cycle respond to natural variability and global change? Question 3: What are the direct impacts of arctic hydrology changes on nutrient biogeochemistry and ecosystem structure and function? Question 4: What are the hydrologic cycle feedbacks to the oceans and atmosphere in the face of natural variability and global change? How will these feedbacks influence human systems? A total of twenty-two projects were funded as part of FWI. Each was intended to address some element of the overarching questions. Ultimately, however, synthesis between projects was needed to answer the overarching questions and address issues of ecological and societal relevance. For example, individual projects addressed the freshwater fluxes from terrestrial rivers into the ocean, or freshwater flow through Fram Strait or Davis Strait. Another project focused on fresh water in sea ice. It was critical to put project findings together to account for the freshwater budget in the Arctic. The freshwater budget, including sea ice, is important to understanding elements of fisheries, marine mammals, and other elements of the Arctic critical to human well-being. Another set of projects dealt with terrestrial water and how potential changes in rivers and glaciers could change certain ecosystem services in the Arctic. Project synthesis brought together findings that addressed questions 2 and 4, contributing to our understanding of how human and ecological well-being could be affected in a changing climate. Chapter 3.4 is a description of one of the projects in FWI and demonstrates the value of an overall synthetic approach to water research. During the course of the FWI, and in an attempt to address the overarching questions, the following synthesis efforts were undertaken: • Budgeteers Working Group ° Quantifying Freshwater Stocks and Fluxes: (1) What are the major stocks and fluxes in the Arctic? (2) Where are the imbalances? (3) How well can we close the water budget? • Changes, Attributions, and Impacts Working Groups (CAWG One and Two) ° Summarize observed changes in the Arctic hydrological system (CAWG-1)

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° Develop a heuristic modeling framework predicting likely changes in system state into the next century (CAWG-2) • Intensifiers Working Group ° Determine a potential acceleration of the water cycle associated with climate change The joint leadership of each of the working subgroups reflected partnershipbuilding and paid respect to the traditional ways of looking at the arctic system by uniting representatives from the atmospheric, land, ocean, and global processes communities. Each of the twenty-two FWI projects made significant contributions toward advancing our understanding of the arctic hydrological cycle. Indeed, these projects formed the backbone of the effort, and individual project achievements cannot be overstated; without their work, there would be nothing to synthesize. However, the true legacy of the FWI effort was the efforts and findings of the FWI synthesis working groups in tackling these challenging questions. In referring to individual project accomplishments and publications, Vörösmarty et al. (2008) noted that “without an eye toward integration and synthesis, these contributions might otherwise stand alone and miss important opportunities for synergy.” The following paragraphs offer a brief overview of the key findings from each of the FWI Synthesis Working Groups, documenting their efforts to improve our understanding of changes to the arctic hydrological cycle.

“Budgeteers” FWI Synthesis Working Group: Establishing a Baseline Budget Chaired by Mark Serreze (University of Colorado), the Budgeteers Working Group led efforts to determine the baseline against which arctic system change could be assessed: (1) What are the major stocks and fluxes? (2) Where are the imbalances? (3) How well can we close the water budget? Although much information about the components of the arctic freshwater budget was available prior to this effort, it had not been fully integrated. This effort entrained many perspectives and many FWI contributors. In an article published in the Journal of Geophysical Research, Serreze et al. (2006) combined terrestrial and oceanic observations with land surface and ice-ocean models and produced a contemporary baseline annual mean freshwater budget of arctic fresh water—a significant accomplishment. They were able to achieve relatively good budget closure for each domain (land, ocean, and atmosphere), with less than 10% closure error and well within the bounds related to observational errors. Closing the arctic

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freshwater budget essentially means that the amount of fresh water entering, leaving, and accumulating within the arctic system can be balanced. Serreze et al. (2006) produced the best estimates for freshwater input to the Arctic Ocean. Key findings included a much larger than previously estimated inflow through the Bering Strait, as well as a larger than previously estimated liquid outflow through the Fram Strait (located between Greenland and Spitsbergen). They were also able to estimate the total annual freshwater input (approx. 8,500 km3); oceanic freshwater storage (approx. 84,000 km3), and the Arctic Ocean mean residence time (about a decade). This effort provides a critical system-wide view, and critical raw material upon which to further proceed. An important byproduct of the effort was the identification of key gaps and unknowns in our current ability to quantify elements of the arctic hydrological system, namely, expanded use of numerical weather prediction reanalysis and assimilation, improving budget geographies for accurate initial/boundary conditions to arctic and earth system models, and upgrading monitoring networks to track time-varying stocks and fluxes. In combination, these two findings of systemic view and what we don’t know tell policymakers that improved monitoring networks coupled with our increased modeling capability could pay great dividends in our understanding of freshwater dynamics in the Arctic.

Changes, Attributions, and Impacts Working Group (CAWG-1): Documenting Change Chaired by Dan White (University of Alaska Fairbanks), the CAWG-1 team employed a major literature- and observation-based synthesis approach to document recent (i.e., past century) changes to the arctic freshwater cycle on the land, atmospheric, and ocean systems. These efforts resulted in the most comprehensive summary to date of observed changes in the arctic hydrological system. In a recent journal article, White et al. (2007) highlighted these changes, identified stocks and fluxes, and also assessed levels of confidence (i.e., confident, very confident, no trend, or uncertain) in each trend. Many of the changes point to an acceleration of the arctic hydrologic cycle. This work highlights the value of models for gap filling and process understanding. The findings from this group are significant, and this work is a major contribution to the scientific literature on changes in the arctic freshwater cycle. This study also stressed the importance of further efforts to examine human–fresh water interactions, likely consequences of change, and ways to adapt to a changing climate. The CAWG-2 group, discussed next, addressed some of these issues.

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Changes, Attributions, and Impacts Working Group (CAWG-2): Attributing Change The CAWG-2 synthesis working group, chaired by Jennifer Francis (Rutgers), adopted a graphical, heuristic approach (similar to that used by Overpeck et al. 2005) to distill the arctic hydrologic system into its fundamental parts, documenting key relationships between these, and identifying feedbacks in the physical system and associated effects of those feedbacks on terrestrial vegetation, ocean productivity, and human well-being. The resulting wiring diagrams could then be used to identify which hubs are “drivers” or “recipients” of changes in relation to other hubs. This simple method illuminates which components likely play dominant roles in the arctic system and which hubs are involved in positive or negative feedbacks. A surprising conclusion from this exercise in synthesis was that most arctic feedbacks are positive and that none of those operating within the arctic system appears to be capable of reversing the observed trajectory of change during recent decades. Positive feedbacks mean that once a change is initiated, the impact on other components of the system is such that they, in turn, promote continued change in the same direction. On the other hand, a negative feedback means that the system exhibits some sort of “restoring force” in response to changes, thus inhibiting the development of trends and shifts in system state. While the choice of hubs might vary somewhat depending on the expertise of the architects, the conclusions probably would not (Francis et al. 2009). An important next step as a result of this work is to determine whether observations and/or models can answer these challenging but critical questions.

Intensifiers Working Group: Determining Whether the Arctic Hydrological Cycle Is Intensifying Chaired by Michael Rawlins (Dartmouth College), this synthesis working group aimed to determine a potential acceleration or intensification of the arctic freshwater cycle associated with climatic warming (Rawlins et al. 2010). An intensification of the freshwater cycle would result if a series of positive feedbacks compounded to result in an increased rate of freshwater transports through the system. The work of this group builds on the efforts of the other working groups that are addressing the components of the freshwater budget (Budgeteers) and the causes and attribution of observed change (CAWG). Theory suggests that warming will lead to increases in atmospheric moisture content and, in turn, increased fluxes of fresh water. An example of intensification might involve increased atmospheric moisture

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leading to increased precipitation to the land surface, and associated increases in river discharge to the Arctic Ocean. Results indicate that the arctic freshwater cycle is probably intensifying. Work by this group provides the critical insight for what is needed (e.g., more observations, measurements, modeled/satellite data) to more fully understand this important aspect of change. Demonstrating that intensification is, in fact, now occurring provides a message to policymakers that there is not time to postpone gathering data, and improving our modeling capability to understand the implications of potential impacts on humans. The NSF FWI, together with other programs and projects, has made significant advances in improving our understanding of the arctic hydrological cycle. However, the water cycle puzzle has not been solved, and major uncertainties and knowledge gaps still remain, including the following: • • • • • • • • •

• • •

•

Sources of attribution to observed increases in north-flowing rivers; Teleconnections of land-to-atmosphere-to-ocean; How water cycle changes affect biological processes and biodiversity; Importance of ground water for terrestrial hydrology and long-term change; Linkages between the carbon and hydrological cycles; Annual cycle of freshwater storage in the Arctic Ocean, due in part to uncertainties in liquid portion, but especially sea ice volume (Serreze et al. 2006); Seasonality, including total Arctic Ocean freshwater storage (Serreze et al. 2006); Human impacts on the freshwater cycle; Global climate models are not yet able to simulate all the processes and interactions that link components of the physical system, and they are even further from simulating or projecting effects on the biological and societal connections (Francis et al. 2009); Techniques for taking local-scale knowledge to the broader systemic domain (Vörösmarty et al. 2008); Importance of geography of change; Growing recognition of importance of geography change, in particular importance in feedback studies and future tipping points, such as sensitivity of ocean circulation to position, timing, and magnitude of freshwater delivery (Vörösmarty et al. 2008); Biology has largely been missing from these studies, and there has been a minimal human dimensions component; we need to more explicitly state the human dimensions component to arctic hydrologic change issues (White et al. 2007);

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•

Further exploration of feedbacks controlling Earth’s response to climate is needed. Few feedbacks have been identified; even fewer have been quantified. To understand the system, we need to characterize these feedbacks (White et al. 2007).

Many of these key uncertainties and remaining knowledge gaps form the basis for critical next topics for research.

North by 2020 Freshwater Efforts The North by 2020 program’s water theme group identified data rescue as a major priority because of the knowledge gaps identified in the previous section as well as the vulnerability of many Alaska communities. Data rescue efforts focused on the Seward Peninsula in Western Alaska for a number of reasons. First, the physical geography and climate make it highly sensitive to climate change and variability. The Seward Peninsula forms the eastern portion of the Bering Strait and is bisected by the transition from discontinuous to continuous permafrost from south to north. Even in the areas of continuous permafrost, the frozen soil temperatures are only -2°C on average and highly susceptible to warming. Permafrost thaw is evident throughout the peninsula. Second, because distributions of surface water on the Seward Peninsula are driven by the depth of permafrost, where it exists, the water balance is determined by precipitation, evapotranspiration, and runoff. Throughout the twentieth century, both natural and human-caused tundra fires have also proved to be an important agent for changing vegetation, soil properties, and permafrost distributions. In turn, these changes are known to affect surface water distributions. Third, few long-term direct measurements of surface waters exist on the Seward Peninsula; however, a relatively rich record of weather observations (including rain and snow) dates back to the early twentieth century. Digitizing and creating an inventory of these records was a major accomplishment of this program. These newly digitized records have been quality checked and distributed to data centers for archiving, as well as to researchers and community members for their use. An additional focus of the North by 2020 data rescue effort focused on the digitization of aerial photography from the National Ocean Service surveys of the Seward Peninsula of the 1970s. This valuable dataset makes possible the study of land surface changes since this period. This includes coastal erosion, sediment transport, and other land surface changes that are notable in the visible and infrared spectrums. More than nine hundred images were digitized at 1,200 dots per inch and archived with the Geographical Information Network for Alaska (GINA).

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Finally, where stream flow time series and stand-alone measurements of surface waters exist, they have been mapped using GIS, and any relevant publications have been referenced on this map. This resource is expected to be valuable to researchers as well as community members and resource managers. The data rescue project described here helps to fill two immediate information gaps: (1) it adds to the body of scientific data that help us to better understand the arctic system and (2) it completes rare long-term datasets that are necessary for detecting changes in our environment. The specific data products generated by this project—the historical weather dataset, the digitized aerial photography, and the map of existing water resources—have a focus on the Seward Peninsula region of Alaska. While this region is relatively data rich for the Arctic, never before have these datasets been assembled in a way that makes it convenient for researchers and community members to integrate them. In this sense, this project has epitomized one of the objectives of the IPY, which has been to unify and add value to existing datasets. It also helps identify shortcomings in our observation system that relate to water; river gauging and snow-related measurements are the most obvious omissions that affect water resource management.

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References Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2005. Impacts of a warming Arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Francis, J. A., D. M. White, J. J. Cassano, W. J. Gutowski, L. D. Hinzman, M. M. Holland, M. A. Steele, and C. J. Vorosmarty. 2009. An arctic hydrologic system in transition: Feedbacks and impacts on terrestrial, marine, and human life. Journal of Geophysical Research doi:10.1029/2008JG000902. Overpeck, J. T., M. Sturm, J. A. Francis, D. K. Perovich, M. C. Serreze, and 16 others. 2005. Arctic system on trajectory to new, seasonally ice-free state. Eos, Transactions, American Geophysical Union 86(34) doi:10.1029/2005EO340001. Rawlins, M. A., M. Steele, M. M. Holland, J. C. Adam, J. E. Cherry, J. A. Francis, P. Y. Groisman, L. D. Hinzman, T. G. Huntington, D. L. Kane, J. S. Kimball, R. Kwok, R. B. Lammers, C. M. Lee, D. P. Lettenmaier, K. C. McDonald, E. Podest, J. W. Pundsack, B. Rudels, M. C. Serreze, A. Shiklomanov, O. Skagseth, T. J. Troy, C. J. Vorosmarty, M. Wensnahan, E. F. Wood, R. Woodgate, D. Yang, K. Zhang, T. Zhang. 2010. Analysis of the arctic system for freshwater cycle intensification: Observations and expectations. Journal of Climate, in review. Serreze, M. C., A. P. Barrett, A. G. Slater, R. A. Woodgate, K. Aagaard, R. B. Lammers, M. Steele, R. Mortiz, M. Meredith, and C. M. Lee. 2006. The large-scale freshwater cycle of the Arctic. Journal of Geophysical Research 111, C11010, doi:10.1029 /2005JC003424. Vörösmarty, C. J., L. Hinzman, and J. Pundsack. 2008. Introduction to the special section on Changes in the Arctic Freshwater System: Identification, attribution, and impacts at local and global scales. Journal of Geophysical Research Biogeosciences 113, G01S91, doi:10.1029/2007JG000615. White, D., L. Hinzman, L. Alessa, J. Cassano, M. Chambers, K. Falkner, J. Francis, W. Gutowski, M. Holland, M. Holmes, H. Huntington, D. Kane, A. Kliskey, C. Lee, J. McClelland, B. Peterson, F. Staneo, M. Steele, R. Woodgate, D. Yang, K. Yoshikawa, and T. Zhang. 2007. The Arctic freshwater system: Changes and impacts. Journal of Geophysical Research 112, G04S55, doi:10.1029/2006JG000353.

3.4

The Role of Fresh Water in Alaska’s Communities by andrew kliskey and lilian alessa

A

substantial part of the Arctic is underlain by permafrost extending up to 500 meters below the surface. Typically, only the top 1 meter of soil thaws in the summer, and ice-rich permafrost forms a barrier between surface water and groundwater. Therefore, in areas of continuous permafrost, terrestrial and aquatic life is entirely dependent on water that exists on the land’s surface. Fresh water is essential to sustaining the Arctic’s resources and is used to meet human domestic needs such as drinking, cooking, and cleaning as well as agricultural and industrial demands. Indigenous and rural communities use lakes and rivers for transportation, access to subsistence resources, and to sustain those same resources and requisite habitat. Though surface water is largely abundant in summer, where it serves as feeding and breeding habitat for fish and wildlife, in winter, liquid water is either nonexistent or inaccessible. In the Arctic, only lakes deeper than 2 meters and rivers with significant winter flow will have liquid water below the surface ice. Communities that do not have adequate year round water supply use storage tanks to meet their domestic water supply needs during the winter months. In some communities, fresh water is still collected from traditional sources and hauled to homes with no modern piping. The unique challenges related to water supply and the persistence of traditional water collection practices are reflected in the domestic water use statistics for these communities. While water use in urban areas is essentially the same as observed in the temperate regions of North America, rural water use in Alaska tends to be considerably lower than the national average. Alaska’s Seward Peninsula serves as an excellent example of the range of physical, social, and environmental conditions that exist in Alaska communities. It is therefore presented here in a case study for the social and ecological aspects of water use in the Arctic.

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The Seward Peninsula straddles the boundary between discontinuous and continuous permafrost, providing diverse conditions of permafrost thaw. The peninsula also supports Iñupiaq communities that exhibit a diverse range of subsistence types—marine mammal harvesting, salmon fishing, and reindeer herding. The communities have contrasting infrastructures in place for providing domestic water from municipal water systems (MWS) that provide reticulated water and sewerage to hand-hauled water from local streams and ponds. Nome, Alaska, of gold rush fame, serves as a regional hub for the Seward Peninsula. Year-round communities on the peninsula include Brevig Mission, Deering, Elim, Golovin, Shishmaref, Teller, Wales, and White Mountain. Additional town sites and fish camps are inhabited seasonally. At the end of the nineteenth century and for the first decade of the twentieth century, gold drew a considerable population to Nome. Today, many inhabitants participate in subsistence fishing and hunting in remote communities. No ground infrastructure exists connecting the Seward Peninsula to the rest of the state and only two communities on the peninsula are connected to Nome by road. In sum, the Seward Peninsula offers manageable physical and social scales of research, well-defined watersheds, and discrete human settlements for studying the role of fresh water in rural communities in addition to examining the response of these communities to climate change effects on local freshwater resources. These have been two of the goals of the National Science Foundation funded project “The Intersection between Climate Change Water Resources and Humans in the Arctic.” The remainder of this chapter reports on multiple aspects of this project by the same research team. This project has returned a suite of results related to freshwater use and perception of change in that resource in Seward Peninsula communities over the last six years. These can be read in Alessa et al. (2007, 2008a, 2008b, 2010), Altaweel et al. (2009), Bone et al. (2011), Kliskey et al. (2008), and Marino et al. (2009). Remote resource-dependent communities rely on fresh water for subsistence and proximal use of natural resources (e.g., fish). Important social values that arise from water in these communities include drinking, cooking, and washing, subsistence uses, cultural importance, transportation, biological value, and recreational values (Alessa et al. 2010). Notably, the importance of these values varies with age group. Three distinct generations can be identified in these villages: the “land-schooled” or eldest generation, the “boarding-schooled” or middle generation, and the “modern-schooled” or youngest generation (Alessa et al. 2008a). The relative importance of subsistence and cultural values is lowest among the modern-schooled generation and increases with age. Utilitarian value decreases with age, while recreational value decreases with age and is absent in the land-schooled generation (Alessa et al. 2010). The eldest land-schooled residents in these communities hauled water and relied entirely on subsistence gathering for food in their

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youth. They retain the most exposure to and memory of the landscape whereas the youngest modern-schooled generation grew up with an ever-increasing adoption of western culture in their villages including the installation of water and sewer systems. We have also observed significant generational differences in residents’ perceptions of change in hydrological resources (Alessa et al. 2008a) with elders being more cognizant of change than other generations. For example, members of the land-schooled generation were more likely to detect changes in freshwater quality and availability over similar time periods than younger generations. In addition, the perception of change in water resources varied with the presence of technology, in this case a municipal water supply (MWS), such that users of a natural water source (NWS) were more cognizant of change than users of an MWS (Alessa et al. 2007). We explain this through the development of a conceptual model in which users of an MWS become more distanced from water resources over time than users of an NWS (Alessa et al. 2007). This is termed technology-induced environmental distancing (TIED) (Alessa et al. 2010). We also note the important role of local, culturally based knowledge concerning water quality in adaptive responses (Marino et al. 2009). Another factor that affects the awareness of change in water resources in communities on Seward Peninsula is the role, or agent type, of individuals in initiating or supporting community adaptation or mitigation strategies in response to changing conditions (Bone et al. 2011). Individuals who were initiators of community responsiveness were more likely to detect change in water quality or availability than either supporters of a response or detractors to a response. This has important implications for understanding the social dynamics that lead to adaptive responses in communities and those that lead to a failure to respond (Alessa et al. 2010). In sum, this wealth of data indicates a series of important factors that contribute to a community’s ability to respond to environmental change and provides some pointers for the development of adaptive strategies. These findings concerning social and behavioral factors that contribute to community resilience have led to the development of an Arctic Water Resources Vulnerability Index (AWRVI) for communities to assess their relative vulnerability-resilience to changes in their water resources at local scales (Kliskey et al. 2008). AWRVI comprises physical and social measures of change including indicators for natural water supply, municipal supply impounded by human infrastructure, water quality, permafrost status, the extent of subsistence habitat that is water dependent, the extent of community knowledge regarding water, and the awareness of change in water resources. The development of AWRVI has involved collaborations with communities on the Seward Peninsula and with managers and scientists in Alaska and elsewhere to validate the tool.

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A simulation tool that has been developed from the “Intersections” project is the Forecasting Environmental Resilience of Arctic Landscapes (FERAL), which is a computational tool that integrates multiple social and environmental processes to aid communities’ adaptation to change (Altaweel et al. 2009). FERAL integrates such processes at different spatiotemporal scales to address issues affecting community water supplies. Initial results provide projected patterns of water use, perceptions of water availability, and long-term consumption trends based on fieldwork observations. More broadly, the approach demonstrates the need for constructing tools that address issues at the community level for better understanding human and hydrological interactions and policy decisions affecting water supplies.

References Alessa, L., A. Kliskey, D. White, B. Busey, and L. Hinzman. 2008b. Freshwater vulnerabilities and resilience on the Seward Peninsula as a consequence of landscape change. Global Environmental Change 18, 256–270. Alessa, L., A. Kliskey, and P. Williams. 2007. The distancing effect of modernization on the perception of water resources in Arctic communities. Polar Geography 30, 175–191. Alessa, L., A. Kliskey, and P. Williams. 2010. Forgetting freshwater: The effect of modernization on water values in remote Arctic communities. Society and Natural Resources 23, 254–268. Alessa, L., A. Kliskey, P. Williams, and M. Barton. 2008a. Memory, water and resilience: Perception of change in freshwater resources in remote Arctic resource-dependent communities. Global Environmental Change 18, 153–164. Altaweel, M., L. Alessa, and A. Kliskey. 2009. Forecasting resilience in arctic societies: creating tools for assessing social-hydrological systems. Journal of the American Water Resources Association 45(6): 1379–1389, doi: 10.1111/j.1752-1688.2009.00370. L. Alessa, L, M. Altaweel, A. Kliskey, and R. Lammers. 2011. Assessing the impacts of local knowledge and technology on climate change vulnerability in remote communities. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 8: 733–761, doi:10.3390/ijerph8030733. Kliskey, A., L. Alessa, R. Lammers, C. Arp, D. White, R. Busey, and L. Hinzman. 2008. The Arctic water resources vulnerability index. Environmental Management 42, 523–541. Marino, B., D. White, P. Schweitzer, M. Chambers, and J. Wisniewski. 2009. Drinking water in Northwestern Alaska: Using or not using centralized water systems in two rural communities. Arctic 62, 75–82.

3.5

Planning for Change by amy tidwell, dan white, and andrew kliskey

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hange is inevitable, whether it is social, political, or environmental. Therefore, it is important to keep an eye to the future when developing today’s policies and implementing intermediate to long-term management strategies. Alaska is undergoing rapid changes in climate, demographics, and demands on natural resources. Future planning that accounts for these changes can reduce costs and liabilities. As with other northern regions, Alaska is already experiencing some of the impacts of a warming climate. Water is a critical component of change both in terms of its role in the Arctic and global climate systems. In many cases, changes in human and ecological communities are driven by, or reflected in, changes to the hydrologic system. Observations of this change have sparked a sense of urgency and call to action at many levels. At the grassroots level, communities are actively seeking tools to assess vulnerability and plan for sustainability, which are inextricably tied to the water resources that support life and the economy. Many efforts under way at the state level aim to promote collaboration between scientists, managers, and stakeholder communities to better plan for the future. In addition to community level and executive level efforts, the state is benefiting from programs such as the Alaska Center for Climate Assessment and Policy (ACCAP), the Scenarios Network for Alaska and Arctic Planning (SNAP), and the Resilience and Adaptive Management (RAM) Group in dealing with freshwater and climate change issues.

The Alaska Center for Climate Assessment and Policy (accap) The Alaska Center for Climate Assessment and Policy was established in 2006 with core funding from the Climate Program Office of the National Oceanic and 209

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Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). The center is one of a group of Regional Integrated Sciences and Assessments (RISA) programs nationwide. The RISA program supports research that addresses complex climate-sensitive issues of concern to decision-makers and policy planners at a regional level (http://www. climate.noaa.gov/cpo_pa/risa/).The mission of the ACCAP is to assess the socioeconomic and biophysical impacts of climate variability in Alaska, make this information available to local and regional decision-makers, and improve the ability of Alaskans to adapt to a changing climate. The center specifically aims to (1) create research partnerships to meet information needs; (2) integrate science and policy to support more informed decision making; and (3) promote continuing feedback between information users and scientists. Stakeholder interaction and outreach is integrated into every aspect of ACCAP’s work. These interactions include needs assessment, vulnerability assessment, user collaboration in model downscaling and in designing research studies, and user partnership in developing, testing, and evaluating research information products and tools. Core activities integrate outreach, research, and decision-support tool innovation. Following are three examples of planning tools that ACCAP has developed to assist Alaskans in adapting to a changing climate. A particularly successful ACCAP activity is the monthly statewide climate change webinar series and an associated archive of podcasts and videos available on the ACCAP website (http://ine.uaf.edu/accap/teleconference.htm). The webinars are designed to promote dialogue between scientists and people in government, land and resource management, community planning, industry, academia, media, and individual residents who need information related to climate change in Alaska to make informed decisions. The ACCAP monthly webinar series creates a forum for discussion and information exchange of the current state of knowledge about specific aspects of climate change in Alaska that is accessible to people statewide and identifies existing information gaps and how best to fill them. Many of the webinars have focused on water-related topics, including the following: • • • • •

Climate influence on ice breakup in Alaska; Uncertainty in the arctic water cycle; Water availability in Alaska: using and understanding NOAA’s Drought Monitor and Drought Outlook; Impacts of changes in water resources on northern societies; and Hydropower planning in Alaska: Does climate change matter?

ACCAP disseminates a quarterly climate information newsletter, the Alaska Climate Dispatch (http://ine.uaf.edu/accap/dispatch.htm). This publication is a partnership of the Alaska Climate Research Center, SEARCH Sea Ice Outlook,

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National Centers for Environmental Prediction, and the National Weather Service. Contents include seasonal weather and climate summaries and regional weather, wildfire, and sea ice outlooks. Guest columnists may provide information on related topics such as hydrology and permafrost. Interpretive and clearly written text, fullcolor pictures, charts, and maps provide decision-makers with a timely snapshot of a wide range of Alaska’s diverse weather and climate issues. Many communities in Alaska are faced with multiple threats to infrastructure and quality of life due, in part, to projected changes in precipitation, temperature, and related incidences of flooding and erosion. ACCAP developed a guide with a matrix approach to communities at risk so that decision-makers are well informed on planning related to climate change and uncertainty, risk management, and relocation. The guide includes steps from planning through execution, perspectives on community engagement, partial relocation, site development costs, and timing. Sustainability recommendations focus on defining sustainability, future energy planning, and utility sustainability. Special appendices include water and wastewater utilities case studies and an example planning checklist (http://ine.uaf.edu/ accap/documents/DecisionMakingForCommunitiesAtRisk.pdf ).

Scenarios Network for Alaska and Arctic Planning (snap) SNAP is a collaborative organization linking the University of Alaska; state, federal, and local agencies; and nongovernmental organizations. Its primary goal is to provide tools for effective planning in the context of ongoing change, given that there is reasonable consensus within the scientific community that future climatic, ecological, and economic conditions will likely be quite different from those of the past. Based on current and likely future trajectories of climate and other variables, SNAP has developed credible projections for future climate conditions, as well as for other variables that are closely correlated, such as permafrost thaw, timing of spring runoff, risk of wildfire, and habitat and wildlife changes associated with these events (http://www.snap.uaf.edu/reports). SNAP provides a range of products that support planning for future change, including datasets and maps projecting future conditions for selected variables, and rules and models that develop these projections based on historical conditions and trends. In collaboration with stakeholders, SNAP produces projections of future conditions in Alaska and the circumpolar Arctic. It also provides objective interpretations of potential future scenarios, including detailed explanations of assumptions, models, methods, and uncertainties (http://www.snap.uaf.edu/downloads/validating-snap-climate-models). SNAP scenarios and the data used to produce them are openly available to all potential users. Data can be accessed via the

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website. Data are available in tabular form, as graphs, or as maps (ArcGIS, ASCII, and KML format; http://www.snap.uaf.edu/downloads/alaska-climate-datasets) at 2-kilometer resolution. Climate maps and graphs for mean monthly temperature and precipitation can be created for any time period from 1901 to 2099 based on historical back-casting and future projections (http://www.snap.uaf.edu/webbased-maps; http://www.snap.uaf.edu/google-earth-maps; http://www.snap.uaf. edu/community-charts). Recent collaboration between SNAP and the Wilderness Society (http:// www.snap.uaf.edu/projects/climate-change-impacts-water-availability-alaska) has resulted in a report on potential impacts of changing climate on hydrology and water resources in Alaska. The full report will be made available through the SNAP website in winter 2011. The report notes that in many parts of the state, permafrost is thawing, glaciers and sea ice are receding, and wetlands are drying. Climate models project continued long-term warming, which will result in increased energy available to drive evaporation and transpiration. This study finds that the projected increases in evaporative potential will likely outpace changes in precipitation and result in substantial net drying across Alaska. Thus the stability of Alaska’s freshwater resources is becoming increasingly affected by climate change, and preparing for this future is of escalating importance. In keeping with SNAP’s mission, this research aims to provide scientists, land managers, conservationists, and members of the public with a tool for understanding changes in future water availability and ways to be generally better prepared to identify species, landscapes, or communities that are particularly vulnerable to change. Once connections between the hydrologic characteristics of a region and the natural and cultural resources have been established, stakeholders can focus on developing the most effective measures to facilitate successful adaptation. It is important to verify the accuracy of predictions about changes in climate and the effects on water availability. By increasing the scope of current climate and hydrologic monitoring programs, we will be better able to understand the impacts of climate change. The more accurate and complete our observations are, the more successful we will be in updating our predictive analyses and planning for a changing future.

Resilience and Adaptive Management (ram) Group RAM was founded in 2004 in response to the need for an applied interdisciplinary venue to address the resilience of Alaskan social-ecological systems under conditions of rapid social and environmental change, with a focus on water resources. It is devoted to providing communities with the means to respond and adapt to

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such change proactively. To this end, RAM develops and supplies assessment tools that are spatially explicit and inclusive of social and cultural factors. One such tool is the first of its kind in the North: The Arctic Water Resources Vulnerability Index (AWRVI) (http://ram.uaa.alaska.edu/AWRVI.htm) is freely available and easily used by communities that request training. Another resource, the Social Ecological Hotspots Mapping Tool, allows communities to effectively map their interactions with the lands and waters they call home for the purpose of effectively managing not only physical commodities but also the social values that promote and sustain community health and well-being. Finally, the RAM Group has developed a sophisticated agent-based model capable of forecasting the consequences of different decision suites under varying future conditions: Forecasting Environmental Resilience of Arctic Landscapes (FERAL) (http://ram.uaa.alaska. edu/Feral.html) is available to communities by contacting the RAM Group for training and software.

The Breadth of Organizations The descriptions of ACCAP, SNAP, and RAM provide only a glimpse of the organizations that are working to plan for the future of water in the Arctic. Many federal organizations such as the National Park Service, the Fish and Wildlife Service, the Environmental Protection Agency, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and the US Geological Survey have organizations within them that are focused on climate change adaptation related to water. State organizations such as the Department of Environmental Conservation, Department of Fish and Game, and the Department of Commerce have begun planning for climate change adaptation. Nongovernmental organizations such as the Wilderness Society and the Nature Conservancy are focused on water and climate change, as are industry giants such as ConocoPhillips. Tribal organizations and agencies with tribal roles, such as the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium, advance the science on health and climate change through the Center for Climate and Health. Each of the organizations contributing to understanding our water resources in a changing climate has a critical role. Increased and enhanced communication between the organizations and the individuals in them will increase the effectiveness of the process. The organizations may have different objectives, perspectives, and uses for water, but the increased understanding through collaboration benefits all. Water is a resource shared by miners, fishers, power plants, and ecosystems. The future of water and its effective management requires collaboration and understanding.

While

the earth is generally warming, scientists often prefer to discuss “climate

change” as a suite of factors rather than unidirectional temperature rise alone. This is

because some places will, in fact, cool as a result of changing global processes. Moreover, changing temperatures are only one aspect of planetary processes in flux. Some changes are predictable, in particular over many decades, but changes from year to year or season to season can be unexpected. Uncertainty is costly. When individuals, communities, or businesses are uncertain about how to go about their travel, build a home, invest in a location’s resources, or maintain a road, the financial and social costs begin to rise. Section 3 explained the increasing variability and potential intensification of the hydrological cycle and how research on Alaska’s fresh water and its management will need to adapt to account for predicted changes and emerging surprises. Section 4 explains some of the most drastic fluctuations occurring in Alaska, several of which have gained international media coverage as illustrations of climate change in the Far North. The coastal margin is in some ways truly a marginal location if we understand the word margin to mean situated on a border or edge. Northern coastal residents depend both on landscape and seascape. The marine environment is a place of subsistence practices and major commercial activity, while the land provides communities and their services. Coastal communities are also marginal in the sense that their sociocultural and political-economic identities are tied to the edge, living on the periphery of national governance and major population centers. As hydrological cycles respond to a warming Arctic, so do the storm cycles. Chapter 4.1 points out that storms are complicated phenomena to measure, and thus predict, because they have many components (e.g., duration of event, strength of associated winds, precipitation). But the data on sea ice are clear. As it thins, shrinks, becomes more variable, and further retreats from the coast in the open-water season with a trend of summer ice loss, Alaska’s coasts are eroding at a record pace. Coastal villages depend on sea ice to provide a buffer against ocean waves and seasonal storms. The ice also serves as a transportation corridor, in particular to move supplies and for harvesting marine mammals, and in some locations as a freshwater resource from multiyear ice. As this section documents, coastal erosion has forced some villages to plan for relocation. Such a process sets in motion a complicated chain of events as communities must make choices about whether and where to relocate, how to move, what buildings (e.g., homes, schools, post offices) might be salvaged, and how to finance such a move. The impact to individual and group well-being is immense as accepted life pathways that people associate with a small community, such as the certainties of place and cultural patterns of subsistence, are disrupted. Section 4 also provides another example of the role of indigenous knowledge in modern policy problems. When one’s own village is threatened with extinction, there are few greater real-world examples of putting concepts of sustainability into practice. As a consequence, the case studies of Chapters 4.4– 4.7 present a variety of novel efforts to adapt to the changes taking place on Alaska’s coasts. The role of governments as both current and historic forces shaping the communities is worth noting.

As our environments continue to surprise us, the need for government management of natural resources and social processes to be flexible will increase. This is a theme reiterated in Sections 6, 7, and 8. The ongoing crises in many Alaska coastal villages have created new networks of citizens, activists, agency employees, and politicians focused on displacement and relocation of people due to environmental change. The response to this suite of social-ecological changes spans community-state-federal and, in some cases, international levels. Its creativity can serve to inform other locations facing similar threats from rapid environmental change.

4

The Arctic Coastal Margin

Section editors: David E. Atkinson and Peter Schweitzer

PLATE 004 Turnagain Arm, Low Tide Stranded Ice Floes Hal Gage Pigment ink print 2009

4.1

Introduction by david e. atkinson, peter schweitzer, and orson smith

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he coastlines of the Arctic are extensive and diverse. Stretching some 45,000 kilometers, they constitute the majority of the national coastal possessions for the two largest arctic nations, Russia and Canada, and represent a sizeable portion of those in Alaska, Greenland, and Norway (The World Factbook 2010). Coastal forms range from steep cliffs and deep fjords to huge rivers of ice calving directly into the ocean to expanses of tundra that end at the sea. These areas are almost exclusively treeless, except for parts of northern Norway warmed by the remnants of the Gulf Stream, small trees of the more sheltered coasts of western Siberia, and areas of Alaska south of the Bering Strait. The northern and eastern regions of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, which is the largest archipelago in the world at 2 million square kilometers, Greenland, and northern Norway all present rugged coastlines of mountainous terrain. The southern and western portions of the archipelago, North American mainland north coast, and broad sweeps of the Russian arctic coast comprise lowland areas often dominated by wetlands and extensive lake features that end at bluffs up to 30 meters in height. Arguably the defining physical feature for an arctic coast is the presence of shore-fast sea ice throughout the winter. Even in summer, in many areas sea ice has, in most years, never been far from the coast. The capacity of the ice to calm wave activity means arctic coasts present a deceptively static counterpart to southern coasts where the activity of the ocean conveys an impression of ceaseless dynamism. Sea ice, though, can move rapidly and with great power under the influence of wind and currents. The coastal regions of the Arctic are also home to diverse fauna. Coastal lowland plains represent extensive breeding grounds for many species of migratory birds; thousands of caribou use these areas; whales migrate along the coastal

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margins; and other mammal species make use of the ice edge for rearing of young and as haul-outs for resting.

Human The arctic coastal zone hosts an equally diverse range of human settlement and use, records of which stretch back thousands of years (Mayell 2001). The earliest inhabitants occupied and successfully adapted to a challenging environment. Indigenous peoples have thrived in all parts of the Arctic for these past millennia down to the present day. Many in small remote villages continue to exist much as they did generations ago, nurturing ancient ties to the land and sea. The coastal zone forms a major locus for human activity of all sorts (Fig. 4.1.1). An examination of census data shows that, for example, roughly 80% of Alaska residents live on or near the coast (US Census 2000). This represents a much greater proportion of human activity than for coastlines in non-arctic lands; in the United States as a whole approximately 30% of people live on the coast. For some coastal inhabitants—residents of Anchorage or the year-round workers at the Red Dog Mine port facility, for example—proximity to the coast has little particular impact on daily existence, or it represents a few discrete tangibles, such as recreation or commercial access to a transportation route. However, many coastal inhabitants are members of small villages that still practice subsistence lifestyles. For them the coast is not just a place to live. It is a source of food, a means of transportation, the essence of an identity, and a way of life. The fundamental elements of their culture are bound up in the coastal setting of their community. This pattern is repeated for indigenous groups throughout the Arctic. Life at the arctic coast must be conducted with a greater sense of surrounding than elsewhere. This applies to all who live there, not just indigenous communities. Life in these areas is precarious for many reasons. Physically, life is precarious due to geographical isolation, limited transportation options, natural elements (e.g., saltwater, wind, bears) that are tough on people and equipment, the presence of ice, and the sensitivity of many natural systems to ice. The physical sensitivity to ice arises because of the fundamental change ice undergoes in response to small changes in temperature. If the temperature rises from 15°C to 17°C, it feels a little warmer, whereas if it goes from -1°C to 1°C, ice undergoes a fundamental change of phase into water. This fact is becoming ever more apparent as climate change takes hold. Economically, life is precarious in these areas because economic options are limited. Shipping is difficult due to distance and lack of roads. Necessary supplies and tools in turn can be scarce and expensive, and natural disasters such as a storm can deliver a severe blow. Sociologically, life on the arctic coast is precarious.

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Figure 4.1.1. Patterns of settlement throughout the Arctic. Major centers are identifi ed. Map from UNEP/ GRID-Arendal, “Major and minor settlements in the circumpolar Arctic,” UNEP/GRID-Arendal Maps and Graphics Library, 2005, http://maps.grida.no/go/graphic/major-and-minor-settlements-in-thecircumpolar-arctic (accessed May 6, 2010).

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This region has been inhabited for thousands of years by resourceful peoples who have thrived by developing social systems to cope with harsh natural conditions, but the climate is not the only aspect of life that has been changing in the last hundred years. There have been many sociological changes as the more mechanized cultures of the South have crashed into the North. The establishment of permanent infrastructure and adoption of western technology, such as snowmachines, further inserts these places into the global web by creating a dependency for fuel, food, and other supplies and systems beyond the people’s control. An increase in dependency entails an increase in vulnerability. A mechanized society also means a society hungry for resources, bringing heavy extraction industries and their infrastructure into the North. Perhaps more insidious, telecommunications and the Internet represent vectors of change that ride into the heart of these remote places and further threaten these long-existing cultures and languages.

Industrial Villages and commercial fishing towns are the subsistence and small-scale industrial centers, respectively, of the northern coasts (Fig. 4.1.2). There are also heavy industry players present. While not all facilities are situated directly at the coast, such as the mining operations, they all depend at least in part on coastal shipping facilities. The major players are petroleum extraction and metals mining at operational facilities situated throughout the North. Important examples include the following: • • • • • • •

MMC Norilsk (Russia) Teck Alaska Incorporated Red Dog Mine (Alaska) The Prudhoe Bay and emerging Chukchi Sea oil and gas fields (Alaska) Polaris and Nanasivik Mines—now shut down (Canada) Pechora Bay oil fields (Russia) Mackenzie Delta and Beaufort Sea oil and gas (Canada) Snohvit gas (Norway)

The expense of operating in such remote and environmentally challenging locations means that the return on investment for a company must be large. This tends to result in operations that are large in scope and that draw on some of the richest reserves on earth. Teck Alaska Inc. Red Dog Mine is the largest open-pit zinc mine in the world. It produces 10% of the world’s zinc and extracts some of the highest concentrate ore available (20.5% metal content).

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Industrial Development in the Arctic

Figure 4.1.2. Industrial development zones in the circumpolar region. UNEP/GRID-Arendal, “Industrial development in the Arctic,” UNEP/GRID-Arendal Maps and Graphics Library, 2005,
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MMC Norilsk mines almost one-fifth of the world’s nickel, half the palladium, and one-sixth of the world’s platinum (Staff report 2006). Its environmental impact is equally impressive: With some aspects of the operation still running at Soviet-era efficiency, estimates suggest this facility is responsible for 1% of global sulfur-dioxide emissions. Yet, recognizing that this is not sustainable, MMC has undertaken efforts to reduce the negative impacts of its operation. The world needs these resources, but the extraction activities can be conducted so as to minimize impacts. Embracing this more broadly, Russian Prime Minister Putin recently ordered an Arctic-wide cleanup (Antonova 2010) of fuel dumps and contaminated sites. Another industrial player in the coastal zone is heavy shipping. The impact of this industry is usually not an issue because the ships are at sea, but catastrophic problems can suddenly arise when the ships run into trouble. Two high-profile cases in Alaska were the Exxon Valdez oil spill in 1989 and the grounding of the Selendang Ayu in 2004. This 730-foot bulk freighter was carrying 66,000 tons of soybeans when it lost power in the southern Bering Sea during heavy weather. It

Figure 4.1.3. M/V Selendang Ayu ran aground and broke in half on northern Unalaska Island, Alaska, December 2004. US Coast Guard photo.

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broke in half on Unalaska Island (Fig. 4.1.3), spilling its cargo of soybeans and 335,000 gallons of fuel oil, both of which caused major environmental damage. During the rescue of the crew, a US Coast Guard helicopter crashed when it was hit by a 40-foot wave; six members of the Selendang Ayu crew died in the water (Brewer 2006). That last point illustrates the newest emerging players in the arctic coastal zone. These are the national regulatory/enforcement and military elements, which are making plans to follow the increased industrial use, commercial fishing, and growing geopolitical profile into the North. These players will also be in need of coastally situated bases of operation. Of these emerging issues for the North, the prospect of greatly increased traffic due to reduced ice cover continues to capture the high ground (Fig. 4.1.4).

Figure 4.1.4. Routing comparisons and distance reductions, Northwest Passage and Northern Route. UNEP/GRID-Arendal, “Northern Sea Route and the Northwest Passage compared with currently used shipping routes,” UNEP/GRID-Arendal Maps and Graphics Library, June 2007, http://maps.grida.no/go/graphic/northern-sea-route-and-the-northwest-passage-comparedwith-currently-used-shipping-routes (accessed May 6, 2010).

Research Understanding the northern coastal regime in a western sense is a complex undertaking. Many research efforts center around ice-related topics. Ice is not what physical scientists term a “continuous field,” meaning it can exist in one spot and not in another. It is not like air temperature, for example, which exists continuously

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at all places. This discontinuous quality applies to both permafrost and marine ice, making it difficult to reproduce any ice system in computer models. It also makes it difficult to model anything the ice directly affects, such as waves or the location of permafrost, or to capture and so predict its response to climate warming. From a human dimension perspective, a major research challenge is to facilitate coastal community resilience through preservation of cultures and ways of knowing that can enhance sustainability in the face of the double threat of environmental and cultural change. This involves teasing out where the threats to communities and cultures lie, which are the most significant, how they combine, and the time frames involved. The idea of a combination of threats may be considered from a resiliency perspective. That is, we can imagine that individual stressors act slowly over time and that a community keeps pace by adapting gradually. If, however, an additional stressor is introduced at a point when resiliency options have been exhausted, observable impacts may emerge. In this case, no one stressor was responsible; instead, the combination of stressors caused the impact. This is one way globalization and dependency create vulnerability: A sudden change in gas prices, for example, as caused by some stock market turmoil far removed from the North, can represent that sudden, final stressor that forces people to move out of the community in search of financial support. We can also recognize three timescales at which stressors can act. The shortest term is on the order of days and encompasses the immediate threats to life and property that accompany a storm, for example. The middle term is concerned with seasonal impacts, such as an unusually warm winter, which might affect a caribou herd. The longest term is concerned with some of the stressors described above, which act to erode community and ultimately cultural viability on a timescale of years. In response to the growing realization of the importance and complexity of the coastal zones, several international projects have been formed. By far the largest is the Land-Ocean Interactions in the Coastal Zone (LOICZ) project. Taken from the website is the following overview of this global project and coordination effort: LOICZ is a core project of the International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme (IGBP) and the International Human Dimensions Programme on Global Environmental Change (IHDP). LOICZ aims to provide science that contributes towards understanding the Earth system in order to inform, educate and contribute to the sustainability of the world’s coastal zone. Therefore LOICZ seeks to inform the scientific community, policymakers, managers and stakeholders on the relevance of global environmental change in the coastal zone.

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Established in the early 1990s, LOICZ also acts to coordinate and integrate a sprawling collection of almost four hundred individual research efforts that span the globe. The initial efforts represented under LOICZ bypassed the Arctic. Thus in 2000 the Arctic Coastal Dynamics (ACD) project was formed to examine questions of erosion and sediment/carbon flux (Rachold et al. 2003). Specifically, three mandates were originally specified (as summarized in ACIA 2004; see below): • • •

Establish rates and magnitudes of erosion and accumulation along arctic coasts Develop a network of long-term monitoring sites including local community-based observing sites Develop empirical models to assess the sensitivity of arctic coasts to environmental variability and human impacts

Interestingly, both LOICZ and ACD began as largely physical/chemical investigations that expanded only well into their tenures to include biological and human/social considerations. This resulted from the growing awareness that the coastal zone is an integrated system and the desire to properly treat it as such from a true interdisciplinary studies framework. Several years ago, a landmark climate impacts and change review was published: the Arctic Climate Impact Assessment report (ACIA 2004). This effort, essentially an arctic counterpart to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reports, considers arctic system change from various human, biological, and physical perspectives. The concept of an integrated coastal zone, however, remains developed only at a relatively simple level; that is, impacts on arctic coastal zones are considered only from a physical perspective—sea level rise, erosion—and do not extend into a systems-level perspective. More recently, both the United States and Canada have released large, government-led national reports that summarize climate impacts and adaptations throughout their countries, and that include solid treatments of their respective northern regions (Karl et al. 2009; Lemmen et al. 2008). Finally, late in 2011 a comprehensive overview of the arctic coastal zone is due to be released: State of the Arctic Coast 2010.

Coastal Section Layout This section explores various facets of arctic coastal existence via three focus chapters. The first chapter considers the physical environment and identifies several of the more typical arctic coastal landform types. It also examines the action of

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various “environmental forcing agents”—wind, sea, ice, heat—that act to modify the coastal zone. The next section explores selected cultural aspects in the west Alaskan/east Siberian coastal areas. It zeroes in on a topic that is dominating the discussion of coastal subsistence life in Alaska and elsewhere—the concentration and relocation of communities. This subject is explored through a series of case studies of four Alaska towns. The final section explores the intersection of some of these themes. It examines two different coastal areas and studies the way in which some of the ideas explored in the previous chapter come together in the real world. Finally, an important theme—engineering challenges in the northern coastal zone—is woven into the text. Engineering considerations are fundamental to conducting successful activities in the North. This is true at the community level, when deciding where permafrost cellars can be dug to place whale meat, and at a larger scale, when determining what size rocks are required to construct a seawall that will withstand ice and heavy seas. Rather than treating this topic in isolation, it is raised where appropriate throughout the text.

References Antonova, M. 2010. Putin orders arctic cleanup. The Moscow Times, Business Section. April 30, 2010. Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brewer, R. (ed.). 2006. The Selendang Ayu oil spill: Lessons learned. University of Alaska Fairbanks: Alaska Sea Grant, pub. AK-SG-06-02, 122 pp. Karl, T. R., J. M. Melillo, and T. C. Peterson (eds.). 2009. Global climate change impacts in the United States. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 196 pp. Retrieved from http://www.globalchange.gov/. Lemmen, D. S., F. J. Warren, J. Lacroix, and E. Bush, (eds.). 2008. From impacts to adaptation: Canada in a changing climate 2007. Ottawa, ON: Government of Canada, 448 pp. Retrieved from http://adaptation.nrcan.gc.ca/assess/2007/index_e.php. Mayell, H. 2001. Bones, tools push back human settlement in arctic region. National Geographic News, October 2. Rachold, V., J. Brown, S. Solomon, and J. L. Sollid (eds.). 2003. Arctic coastal dynamics— Report of the Third International Workshop. Oslo, December 2–5, 2002. Berichte zur Polar- und Meeresforschung 443, 127 pp. Staff report. 2006. MMC Norilsk: IM examines the world’s biggest nickel producer and its plans for the future. International Mining, July (8–15). US Census, 2000. Washington DC: US Census Bureau. The World Factbook. 2010. Washington DC: Central Intelligence Agency. Retrieved from https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/index.html.

4.2

The Physical Environment of Alaska’s Coasts by david e. atkinson

T

he physical environment of the arctic coastal zone encompasses two main components: the coast itself, which must be thought of as a complex the extent of which moves well beyond the immediately obvious near-shore marine and terrestrial features, and those processes that drive the dynamics of change in the coastal zone. This chapter presents an overview that discusses typically encountered coastal types in Alaska and the Arctic, the ice that is present in the coastal zone, and the processes that affect the coastal zone, the actions of which may collectively be described as “environmental forcing.” To begin this discussion, however, a nomenclature of the ice that is present in the ground is helpful. This provides a context by which various coastal processes operate and establishes why the arctic coastal region is so different from more southerly coastlines that are not dominated by ice.

Terrestrial Ice A discussion of coastal types in the Arctic must begin with a description of ice in the terrestrial environment. Often collectively referred to as “permafrost,” terrestrial ice has no particular presentation but must be thought of as a continuum that starts with soil material that contains no moisture (in this case cryotic is a better term) to a “soil” profile that is little more than a large block of ice with a thin covering of soil. The unifying concept is that, in the North, the water in the soil is frozen year round. In the summer all permafrost soils develop a seasonally unfrozen layer at the surface termed the “active layer,” which can penetrate tens of centimeters to 1 meter or more in depth and which is controlled by annual extremes of temperature 229

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(Fig. 4.2.1). Below the active layer, extending to depths ranging from meters to hundreds of meters, the ground never thaws.

Permafrost Permafrost is a broad term that is simply defined as “ground remaining frozen for more than a year” (Williams and Smith 1989). In the context of coastal erosion, the amount of water present in the permafrost is of importance. Three types of permafrost may be identified by the nature and quantity of ice present: as small, discrete bits interspersed throughout the matrix (massive ice), as distinct horizontal layers (laminar ice), or in small veins or thin layers running vertically and horizontally throughout the soil matrix (reticulate ice). It is important to note that individual layers of ice can be thick, on the order of a meter or more.

Ice Wedges Ice wedges are vertical formations of ice that possess a large height to width ratio. They are mentioned separately because the mechanism of their formation means they are morphologically distinct from other types of permafrost. They form in the lines of ice wedge polygons, themselves a byproduct of cracks that occur as frozen soil undergoes thermal contraction during periods of cold temperatures (Kuzmin and Panin 2008) in which water accumulates and freezes, expanding the wedge over time into a V-shape. They can be several meters wide at the top and many meters in depth.

Tabular Ice Ice in the ground can also be found as very thick layers; this is termed “tabular” ice (e.g., Leibman et al. 2008). Tabular ice is thicker than laminar ice, with thicknesses measured in meters, and laminar ice tends to occur in groups of laminae.

Sea Ice The term sea ice, like permafrost, also covers a wide spectrum of features. Two broad types of sea ice—landfast ice and the ocean pack ice—are of relevance to the coastal setting.

Landfast Ice Landfast ice, also termed shorefast ice, is sea ice that is attached to the coast. This type of ice forms at all arctic marine coasts and is an important feature of the

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Figure 4.2.1. Circumpolar distribution of permafrost. Figure from the National Snow and Ice Data Center, Boulder, Colorado. Data from the International Permafrost Association.

coastal environment physically as well as socially. Communities depend on landfast ice for winter transportation and for hunting purposes. Arctic marine animals, such as seals, utilize the sea ice for the initial stages of raising their young and as a haulout area. A landfast ice edge extends the reach of hunters by getting them out over deeper water where whales and other animals are hunted for food.

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Pack Ice Pack ice is sea ice that is free-floating on the surface of the ocean. Over the entire extent of the Arctic Ocean total ice cover varies widely from warm season to cold season, ranging from highs in mid-March of ~14 million square kilometers to lows in mid-September that, recently, have been approaching as low as 4 million square kilometers, which are new record low amounts for the Arctic Ocean (Stroeve et al. 2007). The important point for the coastal context is that, for a given locale, sea ice can vary greatly from one season to the next (Fig. 4.2.2). Pack ice does not form a single, continuous mass of ice but rather is broken into smaller pieces called floes, which range in size from meters to tens of kilometers and are separated by cracks and open patches. These cracks, termed flaw leads, form in response to stresses that develop within the ice field as it is moved around in a non-uniform manner by the wind. Where floes are pushed together, long, thin lines of piled up ice called ridges occur. At the height of freeze-up season in the Arctic Ocean, the thickness of sea ice can range from 3 to 4 meters to as great as 30+ meters where ridging has occurred.

Figure 4.2.2. Comparison of the circumpolar spatial extent at the time of minimum sea ice extent for 2007 and 2008. Although both years were very low in terms of total ice area, the regional manifestation of the ice cover varied greatly. Areas identified by red circles (Beaufort Sea, Severnaya Zemlya, Fram Strait) presented different local/regional ice conditions in the two years. Thus, despite the similarity of the hemispheric minima, regional coastal implications associated with sea ice would be potentially very different. Data and maps from the National Snow and Ice Data Center.

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Polynya An interesting sea ice feature is the polynya. Polynyas are areas that remain free of pack ice throughout the winter, although some shorefast ice will still form. The physical mechanisms controlling these features are strong ocean currents, for example, set up as tidal flows rush through narrow passages between islands, by persistent winds such as those that occur off the Greenland coast and the Laptev Sea coast (Reimnitz et al. 1994), or by areas of persistent warm water currents. These forcing mechanisms tend to be strongly site specific, thus polynyas will recur in favored locations year after year. An example is the North Water Polynya, north of Baffin Island (Melling et al. 2001). Polynyas large and small represent biologically active loci. Ian Stirling (1997) notes: “Surveys of the distribution and abundance of ringed seals in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago have shown differences in density that are correlated with the presence or absence of polynyas.” This fact, combined with their persistence, accounts for archaeological evidence suggesting they have served an important role in guiding patterns of arctic settlement over the years because they represent a reliable source of food during the long winter (e.g., Andreasen 1997; Henshaw 2003). This has been especially prevalent in the Canadian Arctic Islands, where the numerous narrow passageways provide many opportunities for polynya formation.

Arctic Coastal Types The circum-Arctic region possesses a variety of beach and shoreface types. These are broadly summarized below; some material has been drawn from the excellent overview by Mason et al. (1997) of the Alaska coastal situation. Consideration of shoreface type is fundamental to understanding physical processes such as erosion responses to particular wave or temperature forcing.

Deltaic and Lowland Plain Those regions possessing rivers that drain into the ocean have associated deltas at the river mouth. These deltaic regions are typically composed of fine-grained mineral sediments covered by organic material in the form of tundra mats. The mouths of some of the large arctic rivers, such as the Lena, Mackenzie, or Yukon, all possess expansive lowland deltaic regions. Beaches in the lowland areas can often be relatively wide and composed of fine sand and silt. In Alaska, these areas dominate the western coastal regions; the large delta of the Yukon-Kuskokwim River complex (the “Y-K Delta”—Fig. 4.2.3) is the major geomorphic feature of the eastern Bering Sea coast.

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Figure 4.2.3. Deltaic lowland near Hooper Bay on the Bering Sea. This is typical of the environmental setting of an arctic deltaic lowland. The low relief makes these areas susceptible to flooding due to storm surge. They also tend to be good waterfowl habitats. Photo by James Hoelscher, © Alaska Community Database, Alaska Department of Community and Economic Development.

Permafrost Coastlines Much of the north coast regions in Russia, Alaska, and Canada consist of tundra plains that end in bluffs at the water edge. The ground material is almost exclusively permafrost with varying amounts of ice content (see above). In some areas, tabular ice features measuring tens of meters thick are part of the bluff (Fig. 4.2.4) (e.g., Leibman et al. 2008; Streletskaya et al. 2004). Apart from ice, the material composition includes mineral particles of various size fractions and organic material; it is unconsolidated once thawed; that is, the soil material is essentially loose dirt with no inherent strength. Beaches at the base of the bluffs are narrow and composed of sands, gravels, and pieces of organic mat eroded down from the face of the bluff and the tundra surface above. Bluff heights range from a few meters to more than 40 meters in some areas.

Rocky Areas There are some zones where lithified outcrops exist; these areas are highly resistant to erosion and are not discussed further, apart from pointing out that small “pocket”

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Figure 4.2.4. An example of the type of coastal bluff common along many arctic coasts. Note the tabular ice exposed in the bluff face. Photo by Benjamin Jones, USGS.

beaches can exist between outcrops that can be susceptible to erosion or flooding. This is problematic because, on a lithified coast, these small beach zones are the preferred areas for habitation.

Arctic Coastal Island Features Small islands are another relatively common feature along the arctic coasts. There are several types of near-coastal island features: exposed rocks, remnants of glacial moraines, remnants of coastal plain separated from the mainland by shallow tundra lakes that have breached to the ocean, and true barrier islands composed of sediment accretion due to long-shore currents. There is an increased frequency of barrier island features near river mouths, presumably a result of increased sediment discharge from the river. Note that this is not universally true throughout the Arctic; Rachold et al. (2000) indicate that the sediment load in the nearshore waters for some locations—specifically, the East Siberian Sea—is in almost equal measure contributed by coastal erosion processes and river input. This would suggest that, for these areas, there is no particular reason for barrier islands to be located near river mouths from a sedimentological perspective. Reimnitz et al. (1990) indicate that barrier islands along the north Alaska coast are in large measure nourished by ice-transported sands and gravels, a process that has no counterpart in the south.

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Erosion Processes on Arctic Coasts Coastal regions of the Arctic are strongly influenced by a variety of natural processes that may collectively be referred to as “environmental forcing.” The most important of these are waves, near-shore currents, and storm-surge activity. Winds, and in particular high-speed wind events such as those associated with storms, are the principal agent driving these ocean responses. The presence of sea ice acts generally in a constructive manner to mitigate the damaging action of wave activity in three ways—fetch limitation, floating ice, and landfast ice—described below. Ice, however, can also have various erosive impacts, including “ice push” events and the action that the bottoms of ice floes—keels—can have as they scour the sea bed, reworking bed forms and re-suspending sediment, making it available for transport (Eicken et al. 2005). The presence of ice in the marine and terrestrial environments makes consideration of thermal aspects an essential component of any attempt to understand coastal morphology. Information about environmental forcing comes from observational data or from data derived from computer models of, for example, winds.

Weather in the Context of a Driver of Limiting/Hazardous/Damaging Situations Winds are the primary forcing agent acting on the marine system. Development of waves and surges results from the transfer of momentum from the moving air into the water. The final sea-state that develops is dependent on wind speed, fetch, and duration. Speed and duration are self-explanatory; “fetch” is the distance of open water over which the wind comes into contact with the sea. The greater the fetch, the more fully developed an adverse wave or surge state will be. In this light, it is important to consider the primary driver of winds, that is, storm activity. Storms in the Arctic are termed “extra-tropical cyclones.” While these systems can form locally in areas of strong thermal gradients (termed “baroclinicity”), such as from the warm land to the cold ocean, more often they move into the Arctic from the mid-latitudes. Principal pathways are north of Scandinavia, through the Bering Strait, up from Baffin Bay, or, less often, overland into the Kara Sea region (Atkinson et al., in review). Systems that have entered the Arctic are usually nearing the end of their life cycle; however, in some cases atmospheric conditions favor a strong and relatively rapid re-energization of a storm. These are typically the most powerful single-storm events and possess the potential to cause severe erosion damage (Larsen et al. 2006; Mesquita et al. 2009).

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The action of single, powerful events as the principal cause of damages is a familiar theme in non-arctic severe weather studies and tends to be the conceptual framework for considering northern environmental forcing. Most typically, this centers around tropical cyclones (hurricanes in the Atlantic, typhoons in the western North Pacific) (Emanuel et al. 2006). However, an important point in the Arctic context is the combined action of a series of “moderate” storms. To cite a specific example, in September 2007 the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta region of Alaska experienced shoreline erosion of several meters that was attributed to a particular storm. Closer inspection of the likely candidate events did not reveal any particularly strong event; nothing exceeded even a one in two year return probability. However, there had been three events of moderate strength in a row (Fig. 4.2.5). A simple frequency count of strong winds for the month of September showed that the combined action of these storms had served to generally elevate wind speeds throughout September, resulting in the second-highest September strong wind count in thirty years. It was this persistent forcing that caused the erosion response (Atkinson 2007). An important point to make about northern storms is their capacity to loiter. This is not as common in the mid-latitudes, but at higher latitudes storms can move off of the main high-altitude wind corridors that tend to keep storm systems moving rapidly along. When that occurs, they can stall, especially if they move up against highland regions that can physically obstruct their movement. This is the “duration” component listed above; it represents a key aspect that contributes to the net response of the ocean to a given wind event. When they stall, storms of moderate strength can become easily as problematic as fast-moving severe storms for coastal zones in terms of the damage to the coast they can cause (Atkinson 2007).

Erosion Dynamical control of coastal erosion along non-arctic coasts is determined largely by wave energy, water temperature, the action of coastal currents, fluxes of solar radiation, and air temperature. These factors in turn are modified by the occurrence of aperiodic ocean surges, and all responses play out within the context of coastal type and material composition.

Permafrost The strength and resistance of the soil material to erosion is a function of several factors. Soil “strength” is given by a measure called shear strength. This is essentially a measure of the capacity of friction within the soil to resist internal sliding or coming apart when subjected to forces. The starting point for considering shear strength is the soil mineral composition; angular particles confer a greater shear

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Figure 4.2.5. A time series of wind speed for the vicinity of the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, Alaska, September 2007. This month saw severe erosion along the Bristol Bay coast of western Alaska, despite the fact that there was no one “extreme” storm event. Note, however, the three peaks in wind speed (circled) and general high overall windiness; September 2007 ranked second windiest in 30 years.

strength than rounded sand particles. Soil shear strength is also a function of overburden, that is, the mass of soil on top. For an unfrozen soil, shear strength drops to zero if there is no overburden (e.g., Kenney 1984:62). This means that unfrozen soil, when presenting on a high-angle bluff, has no internal resistance to sloughing off the slope face. Essentially it collapses until the bluff face angle allows the soil internal friction strength to overcome the shear stress imposed by gravity, roughly like a pile of sugar. Permafrost soils, however, do possess an inherent cohesiveness apart from internal particle friction because ice in the soil bonds the mineral grains together, greatly increasing soil strength (Hoque and Pollard 2008). The strength of these bonds is temperature dependent. Specifically, the shear strength of permafrost soils decreases as temperature increases (Williams and Smith 1989:251). The reason that permafrost shear strength is progressively reduced as the temperature of the permafrost increases is due to the fact that a larger proportion of the water is unfrozen, which reduces binding capacity. Pure water will freeze at 0°C; however, if water contains dissolved substances, as it does within the soil, its freezing point is reduced. This phenomenon is enhanced for smaller volumes of water. Despite this, however, permafrost that is only -5°C will still have a shear strength that is many times that of unfrozen soil.

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The implications of these permafrost mechanics issues for coastal erosion response are twofold. First, permafrost, because of its strength due to internal cohesion, is highly resistant to kinetic erosion due to ocean waves. Second, permafrost bluffs can support a high angle of repose; that is, they are often very steep. These two facts mean that the typical response to storm wave and thermal forcing is the emergence of a bluff undercut that can extend as far as 10 meters or more into the base of the bluff. Undercuts, or niches, are especially prone to occur when a storm surge allows wave and water attack directly against the toe of the bluff (Kobayashi 1985), because an important component of thermal erosion is also water driven; that is, liquid water is warmer than permafrost by definition. Thus, when a surge can bring water into contact with the base of a bluff the action of the temperature differential alone is able to thaw sediments out of the permafrost matrix where they are immediately removed by the water. At some point after a niche has been carved, the bluff collapses (Fig. 4.2.6) (Hoque and Pollard 2009). This effectively displaces the timing of erosive response away from the storm event that caused the surge/wave energy input. This makes research efforts to correlate observed impacts of storms to the erosion events difficult, which means efforts to “calibrate” erosion response against seasonal storm intensity enjoy limited success. To further underscore this point, a comment must be made about the role of ice wedges in the context of the phenomenon of block failure. Ice wedges form convenient failure planes along which block failures occur (Aré 1988). This has been observed for a long time; Aré (1988) refers to comments by Bunge on this subject from an 1882 report on an expedition to the mouth of the Lena River. Ice wedges are weaker than the permafrost matrix. Theoretical calculations performed by Aré (1988) indicate that a bluff niche could potentially extend 25 meters or more into the base of the cliff. However, he comments that such extents are almost never observed because collapse along an ice wedge occurs before niches get that deep. Thus coastal block failure is essentially controlled by the size of the ice-wedge polygon network, which is often in the 10–15 meter range.

Thermal Erosion In addition to the kinetic action of waves and coastal currents combined with the thermal action of water, permafrost can also be eroded by the sole action of thermal forcing (Aré 1988). In this process, referred to as “thermal erosion,” as the thawing of the bluff face progresses due to warm air, direct receipt of solar radiation, or both, the loosened soil material slides to the base of the bluff and piles up on the narrow beach. Here it can be removed by relatively low-magnitude wave action. Results from Varandeii in Russia (Ogorodov et al. 2005) demonstrate the importance of factoring both air temperature and wave energy into any attempt to predict erosion

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Figure 4.2.6. Block failure after coastal bluff undercut. Banks Island, Canada. Note how the blocks are defined by the polygonal pattern established by the ice wedge polygons. Photo by Steve Solomon, Geological Survey of Canada, Natural Resources Canada.

response (Fig. 4.2.7). Similarly, Lantuit et al. (2008) are able to show only weak correspondence between ground ice contents and erosion response over large areas of the Arctic; they state that other factors are clearly at work. Interestingly, the presence of a berm of unfrozen soil can actually serve to protect a coast when a large storm does occur; the large waves dissipate much of their energy removing the existing loose soil. Leibman et al. (2008) identify additional thermally based processes and summarize their occurrence. They indicate that the presence of tabular ice features can enhance erosion by causing “thaw slumps,” or small landslide-like features. They also identify snow as a potentially important component in modifying erosion response: Its presence can prevent wave attack, essentially in the manner of landfast ice. However, it also provides additional moisture to the ground regime, which can act to destabilize the soil and contribute to erosion. Solomon and Garneau (2002) devised an index that incorporates a range of erosion-susceptibility factors to arrive at a measure that identifies more or less susceptible coastal stretches. They indicate that their index performs fairly well when erosion rates are high, but it possesses increasingly reduced explanatory power as erosion rates decrease.

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This variety of processes greatly complicates the explicit linkage of the particular occurrence of a storm or wave energy “event” to erosion response; at the extreme end, in the case of purely thermal processes, erosion is proceeding without any input from storms. Many of these processes are nonlinear in response. That is, a stressor—bluff niche growth during a season, for example—is continually applied. Yet the response is not correspondingly continuous (a linear response) but episodic and itself a function of a variety of other factors (a nonlinear response). Such relationships are part of the reason an index such that of Solomon and Garneau (2002) enjoys only limited success. The thermally based erosion processes described above have no counterparts on non-arctic coasts, and that is one important reason why process understanding developed for southern coasts cannot be readily transferred to the Arctic.

Marine Ice In marine zones, ice plays several roles with respect to the coastal erosion response. Shorefast ice serves to intercept wave energy, forming in effect a seawall that armors

X = (Normalized T + Normalized Energy)

X = (Normalized Erosion)

Figure 4.2.7. Relationship between temperature and wave energy, as predictors, and observed erosion, as predictand. Region is Varandeii on the Pechora Sea, Russia (1981–2005). Although only a weak multifunction relationship is noted, the relationship between the two predictors on their own was far weaker.

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the coast against wave attack. The length of the shorefast ice season is thus an important factor controlling erosion response. A potentially important factor in the time periods when sea ice is forming/breaking up is the mechanism described in the following quote: After slush ice was pushed along shore it protected the coast, which according to friends in both Shaktoolik and Unalakleet was the savior of both communities. (Stenek 2009) In this case, the landfast ice was not yet in place but a berm of slush ice was driven ashore to form a surrogate landfast ice wall. Slush ice—essentially large ice crystals suspended throughout the water, which is the form sea ice takes just before it solidifies into a solid layer—can also act to dampen waves before they strike the shore. Once solidified in the open ocean, the ice is “pack ice.” The presence of pack ice has two effects on ocean waves. First, the presence of floating ice in the water dampens waves; more floating ice means less wave action. The second concerns the position of the ice pack front. As it melts back away from shore, more open water is exposed. Thus the long-term melting of sea ice, i.e., as a result of climate change processes, can result in a strong increase in net wave energy directed into the coast for the three reasons specified above: less landfast ice armoring the coast, less drifting ice dampening waves, and greater distance to the ice pack increasing fetch. Predictably, recent changes (decreases) observed in ice season length have served to increase coastal erosion rates (e.g., Manley et al. 2008). There are two other ways in which sea ice affects the coastal environments. The first is removal of sediments that have been frozen into the ice matrix and that are able to be transported when the ice floats away (ice rafting). Reimnitz et al. (1994) provide a clear account of the capacity of ice crystals to entrain sediments from the shallow ocean bottoms into the ice. It is difficult to estimate the potential scale of these processes. The second is the dramatic tundra scour response to the occurrence of ice overrides, ice pushes, or “ivus” (occurrences whereby sea ice is driven ashore by the wind). These are highly locally focused and almost impossible to predict, yet they are devastating to the areas they impact (Fig. 4.2.8). Aré et al. (2005) give a nice overview of the various ways in which ice interacts with the coast.

Coastal Materials The active processes of environmental forcing, described above, act to modify coastal environments only within the context of a range of terrestrial factors such

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as bluff height, backshore material, grain size, or presence of sand bars. For this reason, erosion rates can vary greatly even along a stretch of coastline only a few kilometers in length where environmental forcing is relatively uniform. Jones et al. (2009) showed how significant a role the nature of the coastal material and morphology can play in determining final erosion response given a particular suite of inputs. Jorgensen et al. (2002) reported relatively low erosion rates at a site (Beaufort Lagoon, Alaska) that had approximately equivalent volumetric ice content and exposure to environmental forcing agents as neighboring sites. They attributed the lower erosion rates to two factors: greater bluff height, which means more material has to be removed by the water, and the larger average grain size of the soil particles, which requires more energy to remove than smaller grain sizes. Jorgensen et al. (2002) also speculate that lower erosion rates at Beaufort Lagoon are the result of reduced fetch due to the presence of barrier islands, reduced waves due to shallow water, and relatively close proximity of pack ice. Other areas for which

Figure 4.2.8. An example of an ice-push, or ivu, event. Highly episodic, these occurrences generate a severe response along the coast. This image from Banks Island, Canada, shows how the sea ice has bulldozed the tundra down to the bottom of the active layer for a distance of several hundred meters inland. Figure courtesy of Patrick Lajeunesse, Université Laval, Québec.

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variability has been demonstrated include Cape Bykovsky on the Russian north coast (Lantuit et al., in press) and along other parts of the Alaska coast (Manley et al. 2008). An overview of typical, annually averaged erosion amounts along selected stretches of coast is presented in Table 4.2.1. A common active erosion regime is considered to be one for which erosion rates approach 10 meters per year, which occurs in ice-rich permafrost environments ( Jorgensen et al. 2002). At the most extreme end, Arctic-wide record erosion responses have been as great as 55 meters in a season in some areas of the Russian north (Aré 1988) and more than 30 meters on the Canadian/Alaska coasts. Table 4.2.1. Erosion rates measured at various selected locations.

Elson Lagoon, Barrow, Alaska

0.4–10 m/yr

Jorgensen et al. (2002) reporting results from various studies

Beaufort Lagoon, Alaska

Up to 1.5 m/yr

Jorgensen et al. (2002)

Yugorsky Peninsula, Central Siberian Coast (Schpindler site)

Up to 18 m/yr

Leibman et al. (2008)

Barents, Kara Seas

Up to 3.3 m/yr

Vasiliev et al. (2005)

Pechora Sea

Up to 2.5 m/yr

Ogorodov et al. (2005)

Herschel Island

Up to 0.6 m/yr

Lantuit and Pollard (2008)

Mackenzie River Delta

Up to 22 m/yr

Solomon (2005)

Flooding/Waves Coastal flooding is generally, but not always, associated with surges. A surge, or temporary increase in water level beyond that accompanying the tidal regime, is caused by wind setup accompanying storms. Winds do not have to be particularly strong to cause surges. The primary prerequisites are persistence of wind direction and adequate fetch. The final prerequisite is on-shore direction; persistent off-shore winds can cause a negative surge, or temporary decrease in sea level, which tends not to be problematic in the North. The angle of wind direction with respect to coastline orientation is also important. A maximum surge can generally be expected when wind direction is in a sector running from perpendicular to approximately 45 degrees to the left of the coastline when looking out to sea. Note that wind direction is expressed as the direction the wind is blowing from.

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Despite the significance of flooding and surges as a coastal hazard, waves are the primary force acting on the coast. Their capacity to move material is by far the primary source of coastline reworking. Waves represent the dominant coastal erosion agent around the world, the Arctic included. Similar to water level surges caused by wind setup, the transfer of wind energy into the water creates waves as wind moves over the water. Wave height varies directly with wind speed, fetch, and duration. The kinetic action of waves liberates sediments from the soil matrix during impact, introducing them into the water column where they can be transported. This tends to occur in the surf-zone, near the beach. Larger, more energetic waves, such as those associated with storms, are capable of moving sediment off-shore. Longer periods of moderate waves that occur with the more prevalent “background” wind regime tend to move sediments back on-shore. This results in a fairly typical pattern seen in many regions of the world, in which the period of heavier erosion is winter, and the period of shore-face rebuilding is summer. When waves break obliquely, sediment is moved long-shore, that is, transported parallel to the beach face. This results in features such as barrier islands and spits. The wave regime at a particular location is dependent on site-specific characteristics that include coastline orientation, off- and near-shore bathymetry, beach face and profile, and back-shore profile. The erosion response is further a function of additional factors, including bluff height, soil material, and, in the Arctic, ground ice nature and content. Wave response is complicated by the presence of ice in the marine environment, as indicated above. Erosion response is similarly modified by permafrost; its strength results in erosion manifested as an undercut of a bluff, with subsequent block failure occurring (Hoque and Pollard 2009). Ice-rich terrain is also susceptible to thermal erosion, which complicates understanding based on wave energy alone. Permafrost regions are also susceptible to subsidence when they undergo thawing. Finally, on top of this complexity, time and again it has been demonstrated, in the Arctic and elsewhere (see also Chapter 4.9), that human disruption of natural coastal processes almost always makes things worse. In the North this includes destruction of coastal dune and vegetation zones by small-engine vehicles such as ATVs and snowmachines. It also includes attempts to artificially armor the coast using various engineering hardening approaches, which have ranged from dumping old cars onto the beach up to top-of-the-line engineering solutions. There is a good example from the Tuktoyaktuk Peninsula in the Mackenzie River Delta. In the 1960s, a gravesite several kilometers west of town was being eroded. Armoring succeeded in reducing erosion. However, since then the spit of land that had prevented large waves from penetrating into the Tuktoyaktuk harbor has been overtopped with increasing frequency. This is occurring because the spit is no longer

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being replenished with sediment drawn from the eroding section of coast that was armored—in response, it is getting smaller. Beach armoring solutions are often necessary to stave off immediate catastrophic impacts, but they deprive the community of use of the beach. Typically, boats cannot be launched or hauled out onto a coastal armoring structure, and residents are unable to construct food subsistence structures such as drying racks. These sorts of impacts are subtle, but they contribute to the slow erosion of community functionality at a given location.

Weather Phenomena Although the most dramatic and common threats to the coast come from severe ocean-generated wave states, other weather-related phenomena also cause problems. Strong winds on their own can be problematic and have caused structural damages, even though they pose a far less significant threat in the North than the South. Very strong pressure gradients—the main driver of wind—are recorded for northern storms, but the maximum wind speeds are not as great as they would be if the storm were situated farther south. That is, a low pressure system that gives 120-mph winds at 30 degrees latitude would give only 65-mph winds at 70 degrees latitude. This is a function of the Coriolis effect, which states that the maximum wind speed that can be generated by a given low pressure system is inversely related to Coriolis force, which increases with latitude. Another coastal problem is the occurrence of low-visibility events. These can occur when wind picks up fresh snow (sometimes called a “ground blizzard”), or when fog rolls ashore. Fog occurs when moister air from the marine environment flows over the relatively cooler ground and experiences a reduction of temperature to its condensation point. Low visibility events bring community activity to a halt because they make travel very dangerous (Rattenbury et al. 2009).

Possible Future Climate Trends Sea Ice Given its various roles that make it an integral component of life on the arctic coast, sea ice is fundamental to any discussion about planning for the future. Arctic sea ice, measured as the total surface area of ice over the entire Arctic Ocean and surrounding seas at the early fall minimum (extent), the amount present in a given area (concentration), and as mean thickness, has been in decline for many years. Although sea ice cover exhibits large interannual variability, there is an unmistakable trend (ACIA 2004; Comiso et al. 2008). Current model projections from the

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most recent report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) indicate that this trend of thinning and summer extent reduction will continue (Meehl et al. 2007). The implications of this are a straightforward extrapolation of the sea ice impacts on the coast as described above: 1. The landfast ice season will continue to shorten. This will bring with it the loss of coastal armoring that the ice can provide. While there is the potential for the slush ice response, described above, to at least partly fill this gap (i.e., because it will be more common) it is not clear this will in fact occur. 2. The distance to the pack ice during summer and fall will continue to increase on average. This increases the open water fetch, which increases the damaging sea states that can be derived from a given wind speed and direction. 3. During summer and fall, the amount of floating ice in the water will decrease. Without floating ice to absorb some of the wave energy, more of it is able to reach the shore and aid erosion and transport of sediment along the coast. 4. Beyond the direct physical impacts, any social or economic activity associated with sea ice will also change.

Temperature and Precipitation Temperature and precipitation have been changing throughout the Arctic. Indicators come often from indirect sources; these are well summarized in the ACIA document. They include increasing depth of the active layer throughout Russia (Frauenfeld et al. 2004), changes in air temperature averages stemming from increasing winter and spring minimum temperatures, and recent decreases in hemispheric snow cover (ACIA 2004). Changes in the depth of the active layer in Russia are interesting because these are also a result of changing snow cover regimes and not simply a temperature issue. This is another indicator of system complexity. A critical point to keep in mind about observed changes in temperature is their spatial variation. Not all circumpolar regions have experienced increases in temperature. Regions of the eastern Canadian Arctic and eastern Siberia have seen decreases in temperature (ACIA 2004:3). This does not call into question accepted notions of climate change, but rather emphasizes the dangers of oversimplification. Areas seeing increases in the mean annual temperature of the air and permafrost will become more susceptible to any form of thermal erosion. This extends beyond the coastal regions.

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Storms Assessing changes in storm frequency and intensity can be a difficult topic. Everyone implicitly understands what a “storm” is, but when it comes to pinning down a precise definition for purposes of statistical analysis, the definition is not as straightforward. What combination of wind speed, duration, and other parameters are established to define a storm? The first point of consideration is the type of parameters that are important or suitable for the analysis at hand. In this case, the interest is centered on winds, so a definition of a storm based on wind speed near the surface is appropriate. A lot of discussion has focused on trends in storm activity. This is also problematic for the reasons stated above regarding definition. It also depends on the area that is integrated over, and, as for any time series, it depends on the time period chosen over which the trend line is built. The two families of storm identification methods include those that track and assemble information about specific storm systems (Lagrangian approach) and those that identify events from wind speed traces for specific locations (Eulerian approach) (Atkinson 2005). Assessments of circum-Arctic coastal storminess using wind speeds at specific weather stations do not show a strong signal indicative of a gradual increase over time. Instead, a cyclic pattern is observed (Beaufort Sea; Atkinson 2009) or a rapid transition between two preferred states (Russian marginal seas). A final issue related to storms is the concept of prevailing winds. Wind patterns not necessarily associated with storms can exert an influence. For example, in an interesting paper Reimnitz et al. (1994) directly contrast the climatological forcing of the ice regime with the ocean bed response. Along the Beaufort Sea coast, the prevailing wind patterns tend to drive ice toward the land, resulting in a piling up of the ice as it grounds in the shallow water. This causes significant alteration of the bed by ice gouging and the generation of thick, ridged ice. In sharp contrast is the Laptev Sea coast, where the prevailing offshore wind flow continually moves ice away from the coast, resulting in thin ice, no ice gouging on the bottom, and even the presence of a polynya (Reimnitz et al. 1994).

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References Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Andreasen, C. 1997. The prehistory of the coastal areas of Amdrup Land and Holm Land adjacent to the Northeast Water polynya: An archaeological perspective. Journal of Marine Systems 10(1–4), 41–46, doi:10.1016/S0924-7963(96)00049-8. Aré, F. E. 1988. Thermal abrasion of sea coasts (Part 2). Polar Geography and Geology 12(2), 87–157. Aré, F. E., E. Reimnitz, M. Grigoriev, H-W. Hubberten, and V. Rachold. 2005. The influence of cryogenic processes on the erosional arctic shoreface. Journal of Coastal Research 24(1), 110–121. Atkinson, D. E. 2005. Observed storminess patterns and trends in the circum-Arctic coastal regime. Geo-Marine Letters 25(2–3), 98–109. Atkinson, D. E. 2007. Strong wind return frequency in the Bristol Bay area. Report submitted to the US Department of Agriculture, Anchorage, 10 pp. Atkinson, D. E. 2009. Figure “Annual Number of Storms at Barrow.” In Global climate change impacts in the United States. Edited by T. Karl, J. M. Melillo, and T. C. Peterson. Oxford: Cambridge University Press. Atkinson, D. E., S. Ogorodov, O. Francis-Chythlook, A. Houque, and J. Turner. In review. Environmental forcing of the arctic coastal margins. In Arctic coasts—Circum-polar processes and dynamics. Edited by W. Pollard, N. Couture, H. Lantuit, and V. Rachold. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Comiso, J., C. L. Parkinson, R. Gersten, and L. Stock. 2008. Accelerated decline in Arctic sea ice cover. Geophysical Research Letters 35, L01703, doi:10.1029/2007GL031972. Eicken, H., R. Gradinger, A. Gaylord, A. Mahoney, I. Rigor, and H. Melling. 2005. Sediment transport by sea ice in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas: Increasing importance due to changing ice conditions? Deep Sea Research Part II: Topical Studies in Oceanography, Vol. 52, Issues 24–26, 3281–3302. The Western Arctic Shelf-Basin Interactions (SBI) Project. Emanuel, K., S. R. Avela, E. Vivant, and C. Risi. 2006. A statistical deterministic approach to hurricane risk assessment. Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society 87(3), 229–314. Frauenfeld, O. W., T. Zhang, R. G. Barry, and D. Gilichinsky. 2004. Interdecadal changes in seasonal freeze and thaw depths in Russia. Journal of Geophysical Research 109, D05101, doi:10.1029/2003JD004245. Henshaw, A. 2003. Polynyas and ice edge habitats in cultural context: Archaeological perspectives from Southeast Baffin Island. Arctic 56(1), 1–13. Hoque, A., and W. H. Pollard. 2009. Arctic coastal retreat through block failure. Canadian Geotechnical Journal 46(10), 1103–1115, doi:10.1139/T09-058.

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Hoque, A., and W. Pollard. 2008. Thermal and mechanical erosion along ice-rich arctic coasts. Proceedings of the 9th International Conference on Permafrost, Fairbanks, Alaska, June 29–July 3, 2008. Edited by D. L. Kane and K. M. Hinkel. Institute of Northern Engineering, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, Alaska. Vol. 1, 741–746. Jones, B. M., C. D. Arp, M. T. Jorgenson, K. M. Hinkel, J. A. Schmutz, and P. L. Flint. 2009. Increase in the rate and uniformity of coastline erosion in Arctic Alaska. Geophysical Research Letters 36, L03503, doi:10.1029/2008GL036205. Jorgensen, T., J. Jorgensen, M. Macander, D. Payer, and A. E. Morkill. 2002. Monitoring of coastal dynamics at Beaufort Lagoon in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, northeast Alaska. Berichte zur Polar- und Meeresforschung v413, Alfred Wegener Institute, Potsdam, Germany, 22–28. Kenney, C. 1984. Properties and behaviors of soils relevant to slope instability. In Slope Instability. New York: Wiley & Sons. Kobayashi, N. 1985. Formation of thermoerosional niches into frozen bluffs due to storm surges on the Beaufort Sea coast. Journal of Geophysical Research 90(C6), 11983–11988. Kuzmin, G. P., and V. N. Panin. 2008. Thermal deformation of frozen soils. Proceedings of the 9th International Conference on Permafrost, Fairbanks, Alaska, June 29–July 3, 2008. Edited by D. L. Kane and K. M. Hinkel. Institute of Northern Engineering, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, Alaska. Vol. 1, 1011–1013. Lantuit, H., D. Atkinson, M. Grigoriev, V. Rachold, G. Grosse, H-W. Hubberten, and S. Nikiforov. In press. 1951–2006 erosion of the ice-rich permafrost coasts of the Bykovsky Peninsula. Polar Geography. Lantuit, H., P. P. Overduin, N. Couture, and R. S. Odegard. 2008. Sensitivity of coastal erosion to ground ice contents: An Arctic-wide study based on the ACD classification of arctic coasts. Proceedings of the 9th International Conference on Permafrost, Fairbanks, Alaska, June 29–July 3, 2008. Edited by D. L. Kane and K. M. Hinkel. Institute of Northern Engineering, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, Alaska. Vol. 1, 1025–1029. Lantuit, H., and W. H. Pollard. 2008. Fifty years of coastal erosion and retrogressive thaw slump activity on Herschel Island, southern Beaufort Sea, Yukon Territory, Canada. Geomorphology 95(1–2), 84–102. Special Issue: Paraglacial Geomorphology: Processes and Paraglacial Context. Larsen, C., D. E. Atkinson, J. Walsh, J. Arnott, and J. Lingaas. 2006. (Poster) Dynamical development of the Bering/Chukchi Sea storm, October 2004, American Geophysical Union meeting, San Francisco, December 11–16, 2006. Leibman, M., A. Gubarkov, A. Khomutov, A. Kizyaakov, and B. Vanshtein. 2008. Coastal processes at the tabular-ground-ice-bearing area, Yogorsky Peninsula, Russia. Proceedings of the 9th International Conference on Permafrost, Fairbanks, Alaska, June

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29–July 3, 2008. Edited by D. L. Kane and K. M. Hinkel. Institute of Northern Engineering, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, Alaska. Vol. 1, 1037–1042. Manley, W. F., D. M. Sanzone, J. W. Jordan, O. K. Mason, and E. G. Parrish. 2008. GISbased measurement of coastal change in the southeast Chukchi Sea, Alaska. Berichte zur Polar- und Meeresforschung (Reports on polar and marine research) 576. Edited by Pier Paul Overduin and Nicole Couture, 105 pp. The 6th annual arctic coastal dynamics (ACD) workshop, Oct. 22–26, 2006, Groningen, Netherlands. Mason, O., W. J. Neal, and O. Pilkey. 1997. Living with the coast of Alaska. London: Duke University Press. Meehl, G. A., T. F. Stocker, W. D. Collins, P. Friedlingstein, A. T. Gaye, J. M. Gregory, A. Kitoh, R. Knutti, J. M. Murphy, A. Noda, S. C. B. Raper, I. G. Watterson, A. J. Weaver, and Z-C. Zhao. 2007. Global climate projections. In Climate change 2007: The physical science basis. Contribution of working group I to the fourth assessment report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Edited by S. Solomon, D. Qin, M. Manning, Z. Chen, M. Marquis, K. B. Averyt, M. Tignor, and H. L. Miller. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Melling, H., Y. Gratton, and G. Ingram. 2001. Ocean circulation within the north water polynya of Baffin Bay. Atmosphere-Ocean 39 (3), 301–325. Mesquita M., D. E. Atkinson, I. Simmonds, K. Keay, and J. Gottschalck. 2009. New perspectives on the synoptic development of the severe October 1992 Nome storm. Geophysical Research Letters 36, L13808, doi:10.1029/2009GL038824. Ogorodov, S. A., A. M. Kamalov, G. K. Zubakin, and Y. P. Gudoshnikov. 2005. The role of sea ice in coastal and bottom dynamics in the Pechora Sea. Geo-Marine Letters 25(2–3), 196–203. Rachold, V., M. N. Grigoriev, F. Are, S. Solomon, E. Reimnitz, H. Kassens, and A. Antonow. 2000. Coastal erosion vs. riverine sediment discharge in the Arctic Shelf Seas. International Journal of Earth Sciences 89(3), 450–460, doi:10.1007/ s005310000113. Rattenbury, K., K. Kielland, G. Finstad, and W. Schneider. 2009. A reindeer herder’s perspective on caribou, weather and socio-economic change on the Seward Peninsula, Alaska. Polar Research 28, 71–88, doi:10.1111/j.1751-8369.2009.00102.x. Reimnitz, E., P. W. Barnes, and J. R. Harper. 1990. A review of beach nourishment from ice transport of shoreface materials, Beaufort Sea, Alaska. Journal of Coastal Research 6, 2 (Spring), 439–469. Reimnitz, E., D. Dethleff, and D. Nürnberg. 1994. Contrasts in Arctic shelf sea-ice regimes and some implications: Beaufort Sea versus Laptev Sea. Marine Geology 119(3–4), 215–225, doi:10.1016/0025-3227(94)90182-1. Solomon, S. 2005. Spatial and temporal variability of shoreline change in the BeaufortMackenzie region, Northwest Territories, Canada. Geo-Marine Letters 25(2–3), 127–137.

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Solomon, S., and P. Garneau. 2002. Beaufort Sea coastal mapping and the development of an erosion hazard index. Berichte zur Polar- und Meeresforschung v413, Alfred Wegener Institute, Potsdam, Germany, 69–70. Stenek, K. 2009. Personal communication regarding the observed action of slush ice. Email correspondence of November 12, 2009. Stirling, I. 1997. The importance of polynyas, ice edges, and leads to marine mammals and birds. Journal of Marine Systems 10(1–4), 9–21, doi:10.1016/S0924-7963(96)00054-1. Streletskaya, I. D., N. G. Ukraintseva, and I. D. Drozdov. 2004. A digital database on tabular ground ice in the Arctic. Proceedings of the 8th International Conference on Permafrost. Edited by M. Phillips, S. M. Springman, and L. U. Arenson. Zurich: A.A. Balkema Publishers, 1107–1109. Stroeve, J., M. M. Holland, W. Meier, T. Scambos, and M. Serreze. 2007. Arctic sea ice decline: Faster than forecast. Geophysical Research Letters 34, L09501, doi:10.1029/2007GL029703. Vasiliev, A., M. Kanevskiy, G. Cherkashov, and B. Vanshtein. 2005. Coastal dynamics at the Barents and Kara Sea key sites. Geo-Marine Letters 25(2–3), 110–120. Williams, P., and M. W. Smith. 1989. The frozen earth: Fundamentals of geocryology. Oxford: Cambridge University Press.

4.3

Humans in the Coastal Zone of the Circumpolar North by peter schweitzer

W

hile modern humans (Homo sapiens) have a long history of using and inhabiting the world’s coastal zones, the successful exploitation of these areas requires a number of specialized technological developments, which didn’t appear until several millennia ago. In the north of Eurasia, the earliest traces of settlements of modern humans during the Paleolithic are in continental Siberia, far away from the coastal zones and the High Arctic (Hoffecker 2005:74). Homo sapiens expanded above the Arctic Circle between 12,000 and 7,000 years ago, but there is no evidence of high utilization of marine resources during that period except for northern Norway (ibid.:121). In Alaska, while the earliest known archaeological coastal sites are 8,000 to 9,000 years old (Mason et al. 1997:22), the oldest traces of an arctic maritime economy date only to about 3,500 years ago (Hoffecker 2005:135). Since then, a gradual development of maritime economies and their technologies characterized the coastal zones of the North. There has been a clear correlation between climate change and culture change over the millennia, mediated through the changing productivity of land and sea resources in a given region. The most significant advancement of maritime adaptations in Alaska and neighboring areas is typically referred to as the “Thule revolution,” which commenced roughly 2,000 years ago in the Bering Sea region and began spreading rapidly along the coastal zones of arctic North America 1,000 years ago (ibid.:134ff ). Thule stands for the refinement of maritime hunting technology (as well as boat and dogsled technology), which allowed the successful pursuit of bowhead whales and other sea mammals. The archaeological Thule culture is the immediate predecessor of modern Inuit societies, and its rapid spread during the first half of the second millennium AD explains the relative homogeneity of Inuit culture from the

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Bering Strait to Greenland. The flourishing of Thule culture coincides with the socalled Medieval Warm Period and was followed by the Little Ice Age. When the first Europeans encountered the coastal areas of northwest Alaska during the eighteenth century, they met small Inuit and Yup’ik communities using Thule technologies more or less successfully adapted to the colder period of the Little Ice Age. Despite highly efficient maritime technologies and economies, permanent settlements along the coast were the exception prior to the twentieth century. For example, all along Alaska’s west and northwest coast, there were only two large, permanently inhabited communities in historic times: contemporary Wales and Point Hope. All the many small and large permanent communities that currently dot that same coast are the result of twentieth-century processes. The remainder of this section will deal with one specific aspect of the human presence in the coastal zone, namely the concentration and relocation of rural (predominantly indigenous) communities. Apart from a historical interest, this focus is triggered by the imminent threat through erosion and flooding to many coastal communities in Alaska, as well as by the media attention that this threat has received.

Relocations To, From, and Within the Coastal Zone The history of indigenous communities in the circumpolar North in the twentieth century has been characterized by a multitude of relocation processes. As we have demonstrated elsewhere (Schweitzer and Marino 2006), each region of the circumpolar north—with the possible exception of Fennoscandia—had been affected by state-induced relocations. In a way, these relocations were products and expressions of colonial policies as well as of modernizing policies in the spirit of “high modernism” (Scott 1998). Before we deal with the twentieth century, we need to acknowledge, though, that relocations—that is, movements of human groups from one place of residence to another—have been a part of life for northern communities throughout their history. Many groups were nomadic or seminomadic until recently, and seasonal movements were a routine part of traditional cultural adaptations. Also, other groups that were more or less sedentary year round experienced periodic relocations due to shifts in resources, catastrophes, or other events. When Europeans started to show up in increasing numbers during the second half the nineteenth century, coastal zones and river banks became important areas of contact and trade. These encounters pulled seminomadic groups into locations where new and desirable goods were available and pushed them from areas that were important for outside resource extraction.

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During the early twentieth century, large parts of the circumpolar north became characterized by state projects aimed at the regulation of movements of human groups. On the one hand, indigenous communities were enticed or forced to become sedentary around infrastructural nodes such as churches, schools, and stores (many of these nodes were along the coast due to colonial transportation networks and technologies). On the other hand, the more or less planned movement of a nonindigenous workforce to the North was a necessary requirement for the realization of “high-modernism” state projects north of the temperate zones. At the turn of the twenty-first century, several new developments emerged. Indigenous communities started to question the authority of state projects, the Russian state initiated a massive resettlement project aimed at moving workers south again, and climate change began to threaten the existence of many coastal communities. All of the cases mentioned above refer to past and future population movements triggered by outside forces, be they direct state intervention, market forces, or changes in the natural environment. All of them are also characterized by memories of past events and conditions, as well as by speculations about the future, in short by narrative ways of adapting to changing conditions. Thus it is all the more surprising that there has been hardly any documentation of the diverse relocation phenomena, which characterized Alaska and other parts of the circumpolar north throughout the twentieth century. The still-young twenty-first century brings new challenges and, most likely, new relocations to the costal zones. Learning a lesson from how little attention the northern relocations of the twentieth century have received (and how little we understand about the social and cultural consequences of relocations), it is imperative that future relocations will be studied within a participatory research framework.

Four Case Studies from Alaska Residents of Shishmaref, Kivalina, Newtok, Kaktovik, and many other coastal communities of Alaska face erosion and, thus, the loss of their residential areas due to severe storm events and other consequences of a changing climate. While there are some similar reports from other coastal areas in the circumpolar north, Alaska communities in peril have received the most national and international attention. While the physical makeup of much of Alaska’s coastline makes it more vulnerable to processes of erosion than other parts of the North, it is obvious that other factors are at play as well. One of them is the level of media coverage for the region in question. Another is how erosion compares to other threats and challenges a village is facing. Both factors apply to a number of communities in the Russian Arctic,

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where post-Soviet transformations have caused a number of social, economic, and cultural problems, which overshadow coastal erosion. Difficulties in accessing the Russian Arctic result in sparse media and scientific coverage. The four case studies are presented in the form of vignettes authored by one or more experts on the community in question (Chapters 4.4–4.7) and have been edited by Peter Schweitzer. The references for each chapter are compiled at the end of Chapter 4.8. For the sake of convenience, the vignettes are arranged spatially, as if traveling northward, from the Yup’ik community of Newtok in the Bering Sea region to the Iñupiaq communities of Shishmaref and Kivalina along the Chukchi Sea to the Iñupiaq North Slope community of Kaktovik. Since the case studies have different authors, the individual vignettes do not follow an identical structure. Still, they all address communities facing similar challenges. The similarities and differences of the case studies will be briefly commented on in Chapter 4.8.

Figure 4.3.1. Locations of the four case studies detailed in Chapters 4.4 through 4.7.

4.4

Case 1: Newtok, the First Village in Alaska to Relocate Due to Climate Change by robin bronen

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ewtok, a traditional Yup’ik Eskimo village located close to the Bering Sea in western Alaska, is the first community in Alaska to relocate because of climate change. No roads lead to Newtok, and there are no cars. The community is connected by wooden boardwalks (Fig. 4.4.1). The only access to it is by airplane or barge in summer. The community thrives on subsistence foods such as moose, salmon, musk ox, and seal. The people’s ancestors have lived on the Bering Sea coast for at least two thousand years and are known as Qaluyaarmiut, or “dip net people.” The community moved to its current site between the Ninglick and Newtok Rivers in 1950, when the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) decided that the community must have a school. At the time of the move, only approximately one hundred people lived in the community. Their houses were either sod or simple frame. The Holy Family Catholic Church was the only framed building, and a dog team moved it. The BIA built a school in 1958 at Newtok’s present location. Since 1950, Newtok’s population has tripled. The people reside in approximately sixty houses. A combination of gradual ecosystem changes and rapid onset extreme environmental events is repeatedly damaging public infrastructure and endangering the lives and well-being of Newtok’s inhabitants.

Ecological Changes and Sociological Impacts The community of Newtok sits on top of permafrost in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, one of the largest river deltas in the world. The Ninglick River borders the 257

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Figure 4.4.1. The village of Newtok, Alaska. This village is situated on the large delta of the YukonKuskokwim Rivers. The land is low and flat; the amount of moisture is evident. This necessitates use of boardwalks.

community to the south and the Newtok River lies to the east. Newtok’s close proximity to the Bering Sea also causes the community to be highly vulnerable to flooding from tidal activity and storm surges. Climate change is accelerating the rates of erosion along the Ninglick River. Since the community moved to its current location, approximately 1 mile of tundra has eroded in front of the village, leaving less than 800 feet between the river and the closest residence in 2009. Temperatures along the northern Alaska coast have increased an average of 3.5°C during the winter since 1975 (Shulski and Wendler 2007:134). These warming temperatures are causing the permafrost to thaw and the Bering and Chukchi Seas to freeze later in the autumn. At the same time, arctic sea ice is decreasing in thickness and extent. Record minimum levels have been recorded since 2002. In the past, arctic sea ice has protected Newtok from coastal erosion and flooding by creating a barrier to stormrelated waves and surges. The decrease in extent of arctic sea ice coupled with

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warming temperatures has caused a delay in freezing of the Bering and Chukchi Seas. Research has documented that since the 1980s, the arctic seas are remaining ice-free approximately two months longer in the autumn. This delay has left many communities exposed to the autumnal storms that originate in the Pacific and occur primarily between August and early December. The loss of arctic sea ice coupled with thawing permafrost is causing severe erosion and storm surges that threaten the lives of the inhabitants of several communities. Erosion, flooding, and saltwater intrusion are threatening the community. Critical public infrastructure is being washed away. The barge landing, which provides summer access to the community for supplies and fuel for heating, no longer exists and its loss is causing a fuel crisis. Saltwater is affecting the potable water. Community inhabitants are experiencing mental and physical health issues associated with the decline of ecosystem services, such as potable water.

Relocation Efforts The Newtok Traditional Council, the sole governing body of the community, has been leading the community relocation efforts since 1983, when it began to monitor the erosion rates of the Ninglick River. In 1994, the Newtok Traditional Council started a relocation planning process and analyzed relocation to six potential village sites. The Newtok Traditional Council also considered relocation to three already existing villages with residents of Newtok being dispersed among them. Ten years later, in 2004, the Newtok Traditional Council commissioned a report to provide background documentation to government agencies and officials to justify the efforts of the village to relocate and to support requests for government assistance in this process. Newtok inhabitants voted three times—September 1996, May 2001, and August 2003—and overwhelmingly chose to relocate to Nelson Island, 9 miles to the south across the Ninglick River. The community also unanimously decided not to “co-locate” and move to an existing Alaska community. In November 2003, the Newtok Native Corporation secured land ownership of the relocation site through a legislative act of the US Congress. The new community is located 9 miles south of Newtok across the Ninglick River and has been named Mertarvik, which in Yup’ik means “getting water from the spring.” Three years later, in 2006, the Department of Commerce, Community, and Economic Development Division of Community and Regional Affairs created the Newtok Planning Group to specifically address the short-term emergency needs of the community and to begin a relocation planning effort. Approximately twentyfive different tribal, state, and federal government representatives participate in

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the Newtok Planning Group (Cox 2007:13). The state agency coordinates their work but has no dedicated funding to relocate the community and no jurisdictional authority to require other agencies to perform work needed for the relocation. For these reasons, the Newtok Planning Group has encountered numerous hurdles that have slowed their progress. The policy and practical challenges of relocation are enormous. The Newtok Traditional Council built three homes at the new village site, Mertarvik, in September 2006. During the summer of 2009, through the coordination efforts of the Newtok Planning Group, the US Department of Defense Innovative Readiness Training Program along with the Alaska Department of Transportation built the first infrastructure at Mertarvik, a barge landing and the staging area to begin building a road that will lead to the evacuation center. The Newtok Traditional Council believes that its village must be relocated by 2012 to avoid a greater humanitarian crisis.

4.5

Case 2: Flood Waters, Politics, and Relocating Home: One Story of Shishmaref, Alaska by elizabeth marino

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ocal flooding, erosion, and climate change are necessarily experienced in both the social and the biophysical world. In Shishmaref, Alaska, increasing erosion (Fig. 4.5.1) leads to petitioning state and federal agencies, vetting the attentions and burdens of media coverage, and justifying a cultural right to exist as an independent village and political entity. Environmental conditions and potential ecological disasters bring to light political, economic, and social inequality; in this case, leaving people from Shishmaref in the compromising position of defending the value of a unique Iñupiat lifestyle and vying for the right to exist.

Figure 4.5.1. Severe erosion at the village of Shishmaref, Alaska.

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Shishmaref is located on Sarichef Island, a barrier island just off the mainland Seward Peninsula. The village is primarily composed of Iñupiaq families, with a small number of non-Native residents, who mostly work in the school. The local economy is a cash/subsistence mixed economy, with a strong tradition of and cultural dependence on harvesting local foods. Hunting—primarily seal and bearded seal—is an important feature of both cultural and economic systems. Walrus, caribou, fish, birds, bear, musk ox, berries, and greens are also hunted, fished, and gathered locally throughout the year. Local residents believe that at stake in Shishmaref is the cultural integrity and group stability of the Native village as it faces immediate threat by rising sea levels and increased erosion (Schweitzer and Marino 2006). Today the island loses approximately 10 feet (3.04 meters) of land to storms and erosion every year. In 1997, a large storm took 30 feet (9.14 meters) of shoreline in a single night. In one area of the island, near a tannery, 125 feet of beach was swept into the ocean (personal communication, Tony Weyiouanna, July 2008, Shishmaref ). This is significant for an island that is only 0.5 mile (0.8 kilometer) wide. Government agencies, nongovernmental agencies, and the local population all acknowledge that permanent, year-round habitation of the island will be impossible in the near future. Migration or relocation of people living on the island is imminent. The village now hopes to reestablish itself on the mainland, maintaining a discrete community. For most residents, the ideal situation would be to rebuild the village across a lagoon from their current island location (Schweitzer and Marino 2006). Even asking residents about relocating the tribe to a more urban environment or merging Shishmaref with another village is insulting (personal communication, James Seetomona, July 2008, Shishmaref ). In a series of fifty-four interviews, researchers found that, unanimously, residents wanted to maintain cultural and tribal integrity through maintaining a discrete and separate space rather than moving to the hub cities of Nome or Kotzebue. The money to fund this move is currently unavailable, and the cost is extremely, if not prohibitively, expensive. By government estimates, relocation would cost $180 million (US GAO 2003). Complications arise from governmental regulations and governance structures. One example is that since the village voted to relocate to the mainland, government funding for loans to build houses or improve infrastructure on the island are scarce. Finding a house in Shishmaref is difficult. Piped water in Shishmaref is nearly nonexistent, meaning many homes are overcrowded, with—in some cases— three generations living in a three-bedroom home without running water. Local residents speculate that this overcrowding is linked to an increase in illness. Conversely, it seems incorrect to paint Shishmaref in the bleak light of so many disaster coverage news pieces. The village is a place where people get together for

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dinner, where women talk in the evenings while they scrape the seal fat off of sealskins, where basketball games and birthday parties are well attended. It is simultaneously a poster child for climate-change-related disasters and a uniquely beautiful and friendly place. In the coming decade(s), Shishmaref residents will continue to work with media personnel, politicians, and researchers. Village leaders will also continue to hold local formal and informal meetings, all working toward maintaining the land, culture, lifestyle, and subsistence practices that are important to local residents. Tony Weyiouanna is a long-standing local advocate for the Shishmaref relocation. To speak with him is to understand the relocation process and how year after year another round of funding, another stack of paperwork, and another group of agency workers must be met. Brice Eningowuk, a younger Shishmaref resident, is also working toward a successful, organized, locally driven relocation. Eningowuk said in a recent interview, “That’s my main drive being here is I’m helping my community” (personal communication, Brice Eningowuk, September 2009, Shishmaref ). Eningowuk attended the United Nations Council of Parties (COP 15) Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen in December 2009. Weyiouanna presented the Shishmaref case at the Indigenous People’s Summit on Climate Change. The two demonstrate the intrinsic link between the global and local and how Shishmaref ’s response to oncoming erosion, flooding, and climate change will inevitably happen in a politicized and social world.

4.6

Case 3: Finding Ways to Move: The Challenges of Relocation in Kivalina, Northwest Alaska by patrick durrer and enoch adams jr.

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ivalina is an Iñupiaq village located on the coast of the Chukchi Sea, north of Kotzebue, Alaska (Fig. 4.6.1). Its establishment as a permanent settlement dates back to 1905 when a Bureau of Indian Affairs school and a mission were built. The local Iñupiaq population has always considered the natural environment fundamental to its livelihood. Nowadays, it has also become a threat. Severe erosion, flooding, fall storms, and high waves hitting the island on which the village is located are common. These environmental hazards are not entirely new, but their impacts on Kivalina are increasing with the changing climate of the Arctic. Once again, Kivalina has been identified by the US Government Accountability Office as one of the communities “facing imminent flooding and erosion threats” (US GAO 2009:12). Meanwhile, the residents have been talking about relocating the community to a safer place. The first known document that provides historical evidence of such intentions is an early twentieth-century report of the local school (Replogle 1911). From 1950 to 2000, several attempts to discuss and plan the future of the community experienced setbacks, resulting in the status quo. As of 2009, no site has received the support of all the different parties involved, including the federal and state agencies (most notably the US Army Corps of Engineers), the residents (those willing to move and those who want to stay), the local and regional authorities, and the NANA Regional Corporation, which owns the land around Kivalina. Efforts in the near future will be focused on an evacuation road, the direction of which has not yet been chosen.

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Figure 4.6.1. The village of Kivalina, Alaska. Close proximity to unstable or fl ood-prone coastlines has been a major difficulty for many northern communities.

The history of colonialism in northwest Alaska and the expansion of American society have profoundly changed the lives of the Iñupiat. Although adaptation has long been a factor in the Arctic, the community of Kivalina is still affected by the social and political challenges that began with the creation of a village on an island formerly used only as a seasonal settlement. The increasing population is an example of those challenges. During the 1960s, the number of inhabitants passed one hundred, and the 2009 Census counts more than four hundred individuals on an island 700 feet wide and 5 miles long. The island is shrinking due to coastal erosion. There is little space to build new infrastructure and houses. Some couples who had to leave the village would be willing to return if conditions improve. There are also economic consequences. There is no room for young people to start businesses, which would help to increase their incomes and support the subsistence economy. The relocation of the village, or parts of it, would provide more space and give Kivalina residents a choice to leave or to stay in their community.

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The island is a good starting point for subsistence practices. It is at the intersection of caribou hunting grounds, rivers rich in fish, and the ocean with its prized marine life. These factors make the question of relocation controversial. Recently, a new health clinic was built with the help of the Maniilaq Association, numerous houses were renovated, and a new water plant was under construction during summer 2009. The erosion problem has also been partly taken care of, giving the inhabitants a little bit of relief. The US Army Corps of Engineers has stated that “the present town site will require coastal erosion protection until relocation is completed” (US Army Corps of Engineers 2006:4). As a result, the construction of a rock seawall on the ocean side of the island is now completed. These improvements must not overshadow other social and health issues. The lack of a sewer system or running water in every house (except for the school and the teachers’ housing) and the lack of space are sources of social tension that the villagers face every day. These situations could be improved by the relocation of all or parts of the village. Besides the lack of space, another type of social challenge exists. During the last decade, Kivalina leaders worked hard to prepare for the relocation. Kiniktuuraq was chosen as the site for the new village, and most agencies and contractors were ready to support the effort. In 2000, the majority of the community was expecting the move to take place, but the whole effort was stopped due to geological unsuitability of the chosen site. Numerous public meetings and discussions with federal and state agencies took place, and a number of studies and reports were issued by agencies on different aspects of the relocation (subsistence, health care, energy sustainability, community improvement, coastal management, and climate change). Yet the problems that are now discussed are about the same as those that were brought up the 1990s: where to go, which site must be chosen, who wants and needs to move, and how the move will be done. This situation is a source of great frustration for the people of Kivalina, and the result is low attendance at current community meetings about relocation. The local people show an increasing lack of interest in the agency representatives and their project for the future of Kivalina, and they talk about the “end of a fatigue syndrome.” This situation underlines the miscommunication between the different actors in the relocation planning process (federal and state agencies, local political and administrative entities, and local community members). There is a lack of knowledge about how the state and federal agents work and a lack of understanding of Kivalina residents’ expectations and will to handle their own future. Therefore, collaboration between all the entities in the process, including local voices and expertise, appears to be key for any relocation planning. It is important to remember that conditions in the Iñupiaq village of Kivalina are not all difficult. Life in the village can be rewarding and can generate quality of life comparable to elsewhere in Alaska or the United States. The close bond

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between the people and the natural environment makes the land also a fundamental aspect of Iñupiaq identity and life. In consequence, the planning process must include the social and cultural particularities of this community. It is necessary to carefully consider the challenges faced by the villagers, especially as “the experience of Kivalina in planning relocation provides a useful lesson for other Alaska communities” (Mason et al. 1997:143–144). As the federal and state administrations take an increasing role in the relocation process, it is necessary to underline the priority of including local expertise in every phase of development and community improvement. One of the main challenges is finding the fine balance between providing external help and enabling local individuals to choose their own future.

4.7

Case 4: Current Situations and Future Possibilities: Issues of Coastal Erosion in Kaktovik, Alaska by elizabeth mikow

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aktovik, Alaska, is an Iñupiaq village located on the Beaufort Sea coast, approximately 300 miles east of Barrow. As of March 2009, the US Army Corps of Engineers has identified this village as one of the 178 Alaska communities facing problems brought about by coastal erosion. The purpose of this work is to explore past and current issues as well as community perspectives on the threat of coastal erosion and the possibility of an environmentally induced relocation of their community if it should become necessary in the years to come. Historically, Kaktovik (Fig. 4.7.1) has been shaped by the presence of a Distant Early Warning (DEW Line) station, the construction and expansion of which prompted the forced relocation of the community three times between 1947 and 1964. The first relocation occurred when the US Air Force built a landing strip on the island, leading to the almost complete destruction of the sod homes and driftwood structures that composed the original village. Salvageable structures were moved approximately 1 mile away from the original site with the use of bulldozers (Chance 1990). The second relocation occurred in 1953 to accommodate changes to the DEW Line layout and to facilitate new road construction. This move appears to have been less destructive, moving the community (or portions of it) slightly to the west and farther back from the beach. In 1962, a move was again ordered by the Air Force, and the community was given the opportunity to participate in the process. A petition was created favoring a new village site, which was approved. The actual move occurred in 1964, and the village has remained at its current location since that time (Nielson 1977). The DEW Line station, now a part of the North Warning System, is still in operation today. 269

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Figure 4.7.1. The village of Kaktovik, Alaska.

Coastal erosion on Barter Island has been identified as an issue for Kaktovik dating back to at least the early 1960s. The threat of erosion was listed as one of the reasons for the final relocation of the village ordered by the Air Force. At its present location, the community has faced some erosion on the lagoon side of the village, and this was mitigated by the construction of a timber crib wall during the 1990s (US Army Corps of Engineers 2006). Two other significant erosion issues have had a less direct impact on the community but nonetheless are large areas of concern. The original DEW Line landfill site, which operated between 1956 and 1978, was located on the eroding bluffs adjacent to the Beaufort Sea (Hoefler Consulting Group 2008). The bluffs along the radar site were estimated as having receded between 25 and 30 feet from 1991 to 1995, and the US Army Corps of Engineers estimated that this area was continuing to recede at the rate of 5 to 8 feet annually (Stankiewicz 2005). Despite the construction of a revetment wall in 1999, the landfill, which contains varying levels of toxic compounds including PCBs and arsenic, was actively eroding into the ocean. In September 2007, temporary measures were taken to excavate landfill material and move it inland. In February 2008, it was decided to excavate and relocate the entire landfill farther inland on

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Air Force property. Although erosion is continuing, it is estimated that this location will be suitable for more than one hundred years (Hoefler Consulting Group 2008). The other area of concern is the airstrip located on a spit on the eastern side of the island, which is threatened by erosion due to annual fall and summer storms. The runway has been repeatedly flooded, and the North Slope Borough has attempted to mitigate erosion by installing geo-grid material. Despite this effort, erosion has continued and the airstrip has experienced flooding approximately every two years (Stankiewicz 2005). Because of this situation, the Federal Aviation Administration decided as of March 2009 to relocate the airport on Barter Island, to the southwest of the community. Two other alternatives were investigated, including the reconstruction of the existing airport at its present location and the construction of a new airport on the mainland (Department of Transportation 2009). Aside from these areas of concern, the US Army Corps of Engineers has found that erosion on Barter Island will not immediately affect the viability of the village, and that it will be more than one hundred years before the situation becomes detrimental to the community (US Army Corps of Engineers 2006). Kaktovik has been placed on a list of sixty-nine communities being monitored for continued erosion activity (US Army Corps of Engineers 2009). Opinions on the nature of the threat of coastal erosion vary within the community. When asked about the possibility of a future relocation because of environmental factors, many residents said they believed they would indeed have to move sometime in the future. Some of the interviewees felt that the move would happen many years from now, beyond their individual lifetimes. Many residents suggested that the most ideal location for a new village site would be the nearby mainland. From those people who were interviewed, the general consensus seemed to be that the most ideal relocation would allow the community to choose their new village site with the help of surveyors, with the government providing logistical and financial support. Several individuals mentioned that the state and the military should participate financially, especially in light of the forced relocations that the village experienced in the past. Issues of relocation were brought up by some interviewees in a discussion of the decision to relocate the airport. Some residents mentioned that the mainland would be the best location for the airport to prepare for a potential future relocation. In a public hearing in February 2009, members of the community expressed concerns about moving the airstrip to another location on the island. Many of the comments, including an official letter from the City of Kaktovik, supported moving the airstrip to the mainland. They cited a number of concerns including fears that the freshwater lake on the island would be contaminated and that the location would remove valuable community lands (Department of Transportation 2009).

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Coastal erosion is a widespread issue for Alaska communities, and Kaktovik is not immune to its effects. Although not in need of an imminent relocation, it is clear that the community is facing a number of problems brought about by environmental factors. It remains to be seen if the situation will grow dire enough to prompt yet another relocation of this village, but it is clear that residents of the community have considered how such a movement should take place should it become necessary in the years to come.

4.8

Case Studies: Summary, Conclusions, and Prospects by peter schweitzer

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he four case studies presented in Chapters 4.4–4.7 demonstrate a number of key points. First, each community has its own configuration of historic, social, physical, economic, and cultural challenges. This means that there are no blanket solutions and that each community in question will have to find its own way of addressing erosion, flooding, and relocation. Second, given that most communities in question are fairly small in size (Shishmaref with six hundred inhabitants is considered a large community), the input of a few key individuals and their social networks can be a critical factor in the relocation process. This contributes to the idiosyncratic nature of the processes under discussion. Third, despite all the differences, what unifies these cases are the enormous administrative and bureaucratic requirements before a single building or a single person can be moved. The relocations of the twentyfirst century will not just be physical moves but complex and delicate negotiations between communities, federal and state agencies, nongovernmental organizations, and other stakeholders. It remains to be seen whether these negotiations can overcome the colonial spirit in which previous state-induced resettlements were implemented in the circumpolar north. Going back to the relocations of the twentieth century, it is illuminating to compare Alaska cases with those from the Russian Far East during Soviet times (Schweitzer 2010a). Despite the obvious political differences between the United States and the Soviet Union at the time, there are surprising similarities between Alaska and Chukotka (in the extreme northeast of the Russian Far East). One cannot ignore important distinctions, but they are not as significant as the diametrically opposed political systems would want one to believe. Using a “push to pull continuum,” there are more Soviet cases on the push end of the continuum,

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while Alaska has higher percentages toward the pull end of the spectrum. Still, the patterns seem similar enough to interpret them in support of an overarching colonial mindset, which was only slightly modified by different political systems (Schweitzer 2010a). This becomes even more evident when we break down the twentieth century into at least two periods—before World War II and during and after World War II. All of the extreme push cases on both sides of the Bering Strait occurred during the second period. Actually, both categories on the “forced” end of the continuum are predominantly phenomena of World War II and after. This indicates that war and Cold War attitudes played a distinctive role in these relocations. At the same time, the 1950s and 1960s, when most of these “push” events happened, were the heydays of paternalist modernization programs throughout the circumpolar north. Relocating small (mostly indigenous) communities to areas that made sense to government officials but not to local residents was a clear expression of such a colonial mindset. Interestingly, infrastructure has emerged as a determining factor in distinguishing various relocation events during the twentieth century (Schweitzer and Marino 2006; Schweitzer 2010a). To be more specific, we have demonstrated that the absence of infrastructure within a given community can serve as a powerful push to relocate, while the presence of these services elsewhere can serve as pull. Given that a number of environmentally induced relocations are lurking, we should use this as a reminder of how critical the availability of infrastructure for community viability is. The extent to which local input will prevail over bureaucratic decisions in that context will be the litmus test of having moved beyond colonial push and pull. Much has been written about the “new mobility” that seems to characterize the contemporary world, that is, a dematerialized mobility and connectivity based on digital technologies (see Sheller and Urry 2006). While the same is definitely true for the circumpolar north, the case studies presented above seem to indicate that the coastal relocations of the twenty-first century will be happening within a context defined by colonial histories of the twentieth century and before: village locations and infrastructures that are built upon the logic of government needs instead of local ones and a political history of outside intervention. Given the changes in the Alaska political landscape since Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, participation of local communities in the decision-making process is no longer expendible as was the case during the 1950s. At this point, the new forms of mobility and connectivity also become relevant, since they enable input from remote communities without necessitating that its representatives travel or move to the centers of political power. In the end, the future relocations of Alaska coastal communities

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might become an example of combining “old” and “new” mobilities to overcome the “immobility of modernity” (Schweitzer 2010b) that has helped create vulnerable communities in the coastal zones of the circumpolar north.

References Chance, N. 1990. The Iñupiat and Arctic Alaska: An ethnography of development. Chicago: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Cox, S. 2007. An overview of erosion, flooding, and relocation efforts in the Native village of Newtok. Alaska Department of Commerce, Community and Economic Development. Hayes, T. N. 2006. Kivalina, Alaska. Relocation planning project master plan. US Army Corps of Engineers Alaska District, Anchorage. Hoefler Consulting Group. 2008. Environmental restoration program: Engineering evaluation/cost analysis for Old Landfill LF001. Report for US Air Force, Barter Island LRRS, Alaska. Retrieved from http://hoeflernet.com/uploads/FinalEECA.pdf. Hoffecker, J. F. 2005. A prehistory of the North: Human settlement of the higher latitudes. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Mason, O., W. J. Neal, and O. H. Pilkey. 1997. Living with the coast of Alaska. Durham, NC, London: Duke University Press. Nielson, J. 1977. Kaktovik, Alaska: An overview of relocations. Report for North Slope Borough Commission on History and Culture, Barrow, AK. Replogle, C. S. 1911. Kivalina annual report of the US public school for the Natives of Kivalina. BIA Bureau of Education, Alaska Division, Nome. Schweitzer, P. P. 2010a. Colonial push and pull: Toward a typology of circumpolar relocations and resettlements. Poster presented at the State of the Arctic meeting in Miami, Florida. Schweitzer, P. P. 2010b. The immobility of modernity: State-induced settlements and their relocations in the circumpolar north. Paper presented at the Cultures of Movement conference in Victoria, BC. Schweitzer, P. P., and E. Marino. 2006. Collocation cultural impact assessment: Coastal erosion protection and community relocation, Shishmaref, Alaska. Contract to Tetra Tech, Inc., Seattle, WA. Scott, J. C. 1998. Seeing like a state: How certain schemes to improve the human condition have failed. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Sheller, M., and J. Urry. 2006. The new mobilities paradigm. Environment and Planning (38), 207–226.

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Shulski, M., and G. Wendler. 2007. The Climate of Alaska. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press, 216 pp. Stankiewicz, J. 2005. City of Kaktovik local all hazard mitigation plan. North Slope Borough Risk Management Division. Retrieved from http://www.dced. state.ak.us/dca/planning/nfip/Hazard_Mitigation_Plans/Kaktovik_Final_HMP.pdf US Army Corps of Engineers. 2006. Alaska village erosion technical assistance program: An examination of erosion issues in the communities of Bethel, Dillingham, Kaktovik, Kivalina, Newtok, Shishmaref, and Unalakleet. Retrieved from http:// housemajority.org/coms/cli/AVETA_Report.pdf. US Army Corps of Engineers. 2009. Study findings and technical report: Alaska baseline erosion assessment. Retrieved from http://www.climatechange.alaska.gov/docs/iaw_ USACE_erosion_rpt.pdf. US Department of Transportation. 2009. Finding of no significant impact and record of decision: Final environmental assessment and section 4(f ) evaluation for Barter Island Airport improvements, Kaktovik, Alaska. Federal Aviation Administration, Alaskan Region, Airports Division. Retrieved from http://www.faa.gov/airports /environmental/records_decision/media/rod_bti_2009.pdf. US General Accounting Office (US GAO). 2003. Alaska Native villages: Most are affected by flooding and erosion, but few qualify for federal assistance. Report to Congressional Committees. Retrieved from http://www.gao.gov/new.items/d04142. pdf. US General Accounting Office (US GAO). 2009. Alaska Native villages: Limited progress has been made on relocating villages threatened by flooding and erosion. Report to Congressional Committees. Retrieved from http://www.gao.gov/new. items/ d09551.pdf.

4.9

The Arctic Coastal System: An Interplay of Components Human, Industrial, and Natural by david e. atkinson, peter schweitzer, orson smith, and lisbet norris

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n understanding of the physical processes and social factors that are at work represents the foundational components of a more complete insight into the arctic coastal zone as a system. An integrated understanding, however, represents far more than the sum of these parts. In this section, two examples from Alaska are presented to show just how intricate—complex, interwoven, and yet precarious—existence at the arctic coastal margin can be. One of the most important factors to bear in mind when considering the trajectory of human-natural coastal systems is the potential of the human component, on its own and as modified via the political process, to exert influence. For example, from a purely physical perspective, Ogorodov (2005) notes that “people, ultimately, are also a process acting at the coast that can act to exacerbate or cause erosion.” This is manifested in terms of the daily activities of people and their intersection with the coast. Engineering concerns often are at the forefront of these activities, including, for example, decisions about where houses are located or whether or not to armor the coast with a seawall or harbor. The day-to-day activities of people can result in damage to tundra vegetation caused by smallengine vehicles, which reduces the capacity of the coastal zone to resist damage. The political process is the context that sets the stage for how daily activities proceed. Attention may or may not be directed at a region for various reasons. In some cases the political process can impede more rational discharge of coastal activities. For example, regarding the issue of severe erosion at many coastal communities in Alaska, Smith has noted that “Federal attention to coastal erosion is generally

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limited to public lands of direct economic importance to the national economy. Federal programs for keeping up Alaska nautical charts and topographic maps are severely under-funded. The state government does not have a consistent policy in this regard and rather responds to coastal erosion concerns through political processes” (Smith 2002). It is in the context of this backdrop of human activity conducted within an often imperfect political framework that two case studies have been selected for detailed consideration. The first focuses on the Bristol Bay Borough, home to a major Bering Sea commercial fishery. The borough has inherited a patchwork political context that has led to suboptimal engineering solutions, which in turn have set the stage for the current, precarious situation. Recently, a proposal to establish the largest gold and copper mine in the world at the headwaters of the Bristol Bay region has brought major external forces to bear on the region. The second study focuses on a major industrial resident, Teck Alaska Inc. This large operation exemplifies the tug-of-war between ideals of perfect preservation and the demands of the southern world—their major engineering works enjoy clear political guidance and a more uniform mandate in terms of objective but their footprint on the land is by necessity large. The balance here is to achieve some sort of harmony between this manifestation of southern desire and realization of modern functional need with the equally pressing need to keep that footprint—on the physical and cultural landscapes—as small as possible.

The Bristol Bay Borough: A Bering Sea Fisheries Region Bristol Bay Borough in southwest Alaska is the smallest borough in Alaska. It consists of three communities—King Salmon, Naknek, and South Naknek (Fig. 4.9.1)—located on the Naknek River (Fig. 4.9.2). The permanent population of the region is approximately 1,100 people with an additional 9,000 seasonal residents in the summer. King Salmon, with a population of approximately 400 people, has the largest airport and serves as the regional transportation hub. King Salmon offers the largest opportunity for employment, with a variety of federal and state agencies situated there. It also has a forward operations Air Force base that is currently on standby status. Naknek, with a population of approximately 550, has fewer employment centers but houses the borough offices, the dock, and several canneries. South Naknek, a small community of 65 people, is sustained by subsistence as well as commercial fishing and processing. Census reports show that Bristol Bay is about 54% Caucasian and 45% indigenous; King Salmon is 70% Caucasian and 30% indigenous; Naknek is 54% Caucasian and 45% indigenous; and South Naknek is 15% Caucasian and 85% indigenous.

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Figure 4.9.1. Map showing the case study areas overviewed in the chapter. On the upper left inset map is indicated the communities of Naknek and King Salmon. South Naknek (not shown) is adjacent to Naknek. Dillingham, a major regional hub approximately 100 air kilometers from Naknek, is also noted. The inset map on the upper right is focused to the east of the upper left inset map, highlighting the area around the proposed Pebble Mine (large circle). The probable route that would be taken by a road to the proposed deep water harbor (double circle) is indicated with a heavy dashed line. On the main map the location of the Teck Alaska Inc. Red Dog Mine is indicated (double triangle) along with the Red Dog port facility (single triangle) and community of Kivalina, on the coast approximately 15 kilometers from the Red Dog port.

Interestingly, students from South Naknek are flown via daily commuter plane to the school in Naknek on the opposite side of the river. This is this only air-school bus in North America and is representative of some of the issues faced by remote communities, including heavy reliance on aircraft. Major regional economic activity centers on fishing, with 80% of residents relying on the fishing industry for income. Eight large canneries conduct seasonal

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Figure 4.9.2. Near the mouth of the Naknek River. This river is dominated by high shoreline bluffs, which are susceptible to erosion. Note near the bottom left of the image the fishing line and float fixed to the riverbank. This is a form of subsistence fishing that almost everyone in the area practices, Native and western alike; as such, it forms an important local economic contributor. Photo by D. Atkinson.

activity that includes operation of their own fleets. The fishing harvest focuses on salmon. Most of this activity is commercial, although a significant subsistence catch is taken by individuals, indigenous and Caucasian, who fish from boats or simply place nets in the river along the shore (Fig. 4.9.2). A small tourism industry, which includes adventure tours, air taxis, hunting, and sport fishing, accounts for a small portion of the local economy. The fish catch totals 1.5 million fish; from the commercial perspective this is limited by various factors described below. A total of 8 million fish move upstream to spawn; however, only 1 million are required to maintain sustainable catch levels. Thus the current take is far below that which could affect the local stock. The borough provides and maintains major infrastructure including, among other facilities, the school system (which includes the flying school bus for six

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students from South Naknek), the Naknek Dock, the Alaska Peninsular Highway, and sewage systems in King Salmon and Naknek. Sewage systems collect discharge from homes that is delivered to a pumping facility—the lift station—which moves wastewater through a conduit up to a twin lagoon system. Wastewater moves first through a settling pond and then through a cleaning pond. By the time water has reached the cleaning pond outlet, chloroform counts have dropped roughly a thousandfold via natural bacterial processes and the water needs no further treatment. From here the water is transferred to the Naknek River; this operation is conducted once per year. The original sewage system in Naknek was installed in 1982. Placement of the main infrastructure elements for the original system was largely dictated by land ownership issues; access limitations to Native allotments required the main pipe from the lift station to the lagoon to be run along 2 miles of coast instead of directly overland. The borough faces several current socioeconomic concerns. The permanent population is not growing and has in fact recorded a small downward trend, as measured by the annual school census. Few young people are choosing to make their life in the borough and are instead moving away to larger cities, such as Anchorage, or even out of state. In some cases, older people who have lived in the Bristol Bay region their entire lives are moving away. A major factor driving this migration is the cost of living. The price of gas and fuel oil spiked in 2008 and has not really declined back to pre-2008 levels. This is keeping the cost of groceries and other basic commodities high, a reflection of the extent to which these communities are dependent on transportation. Borough Manager Smith stated that the cost of living in the Bristol Bay Borough exceeds 200% that of Portland, Oregon. The transitioning of status of the Air Force forward station in 1994 from active to standby also contributed to a decline in population. Problems stemming from the physical environment include large waves and water level surges that accompany the storms that frequent this region in fall and winter. The entire north bank of the Naknek River, from the mouth all the way back to the Naknek River Rapids 25 kilometers upriver, is experiencing active erosion (Fig. 4.9.3). Many parts of the south bank of the river are also eroding. Most of the riverbank consists of high bluffs ranging from 10 meters to more than 30 meters in height. Erosion is caused by the kinetic action of wave activity, much as it is in the south. That is, the thermal erosion component, described in Chapter 4.2, is not a contributing factor because this area has lost its permafrost. Wave activity is generated by strong wind events. These typically accompany storms that move into the eastern Bering Sea/Bristol Bay area. Of particular concern is the tendency for many of these storm systems to “stall,” that is, essentially cease moving along a groundtrack. Thus, instead of passing through an area over a period of hours, a stalled storm system can result in strong winds blowing persistently from the same

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direction for as long as three full days. During this time, fully developed wave states actively damage the coast. Strong, persistent winds also bring storm surges, a wind-piling of water to an elevation above the level of the mean tide. Given favorable tidal conditions, storm surges cause flooding of low-lying areas and enhance the adverse impact potential of waves. This happens largely due to the increase in water depth a surge brings, which (1) allows larger waves to affect the coast (waves are limited by the depth of water, as deeper water means larger waves) and (2) allows waves to attack higher up on the beach, avoiding the energy-dissipating

Figure 4.9.3. Severe bank erosion. Note the exposed bluff face just under the lip, indicative of recent erosion activity that is limiting vegetation regeneration. View is to the southwest to Kvichak Bay and the eastern Bering Sea beyond. Photo by D. Atkinson.

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beach slope zone and directly attacking and more readily destabilizing the toe of the bluff. During the strongest events, 10- to 13-meter waves have been observed approaching the bluffs along the north side of the mouth of the river. Moderate surges that do not directly cause flooding can cause hydrodynamic damming of the river, which forces the river to back up, causing flooding well upstream of the river mouth. This area can also be affected by wind waves that propagate upriver if a persistent wind occurs from the right direction. Wave heights exceeding 3 meters have been observed as far as 25 kilometers upriver with this type of wave. One of the most pressing problems facing the borough is ongoing damage to the Naknek wastewater handling system. At-risk components of the system include the transfer pipe that runs (buried) along the coast, the one-way transfer valve that prevents backflow from the beach to the lagoon system (Fig. 4.9.4), and the lagoon itself. When the system was installed in 1982, waves did not reach the valve or the transfer pipe. In the years since, erosion has pushed back the bluff, allowing surge-driven waves to inundate pipe and valve infrastructure with increasing frequency. This is causing degradation due to saltwater corrosion. One minor failure causing leakage has already occurred. The bluff has also receded closer to the lagoon system; the edge of the primary-treatment lagoon is now within 50 meters of the edge of the bluff. The major concern is the increasing potential of a major failure that would release untreated sewage in quantity directly into the Naknek River. This would trigger an immediate shutdown of fishery operations along the river. Furthermore, a nonfunctional community sewage system would deprive the community of functional toilets and bring most other business activity to a halt because regulations prohibit public occupation in the absence of functional toilets. The sum total of these results would be a catastrophic blow to the regional economy. Erosion of these bluffs is not a recent phenomenon; it has always occurred. The establishment of permanent infrastructure, however, has forced the hand of coastal residents. This pattern is repeated throughout coastal Alaska—endemic erosion is now combined with a recent cultural shift toward western-style permanent infrastructure. In the Naknek context, a situation has emerged whereby an infrastructure solution that was initially forced along a less-than-optimal route by a complex legal land-ownership and rights situation is now, under constant and increasing pressure from riverbank erosion, developing into a major threat to the economic viability of the region. To respond, the borough must obtain funds from the state to assist with a major infrastructure overhaul project. However, to obtain this, a relatively expensive infrastructure needs assessment must first be performed. The borough cannot apply for this funding until a hazard mitigation plan is in place, and that depends on securing funding assistance from the state Department of Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness. The borough is also seeking to update its coastal zone management plan, but this also requires funds.

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Figure 4.9.4. The one-way valve for the Naknek community wastewater handling system. The top of the valve vent is pictured; the rest is buried. This valve prevents backflow of sewage pumped up the bluff and into the sewage lagoon on the left. The pipe runs down the beach toward the valve from the collection and pumping station, beyond the river outcrop in the image center. The valve is surrounded by an elevated platform that has recently been reinforced by a revetment composed of large rocks in an effort to reduce wave action. Non-catastrophic but chronic damage is being done to the valve by the saltwater carried by waves that overtop the platform revetment, which occurs now on a regular basis. Photo by D. Atkinson.

Another major infrastructure need intersecting with coastal issues is the upgrade of the Naknek Dock (Fig. 4.9.5). Currently, the facility consists of a dock composed of concrete slab on steel pilings and several storage areas located on the nearby shore at various levels above the dock. The facility in its current form has three drawbacks. First, it is too small to handle the region’s traffic demands. This fishing port is one of the largest in the United States (Port of Bristol Bay 2010). Given that the current catch is far below mandated release levels, the catch could be easily increased. Several of the canneries would be able to increase their capacity in response to this new output level. Second, the current dock was not designed

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Figure 4.9.5. New construction work on the Naknek Dock. Beyond the new support cell is a barge loaded with containers and equipment. Currently the dock facility lacks space, necessitating storage of containers on the dock itself, which is contributing to its premature wear. Photo by Lisbet Norris.

to handle the loads currently placed on it. The additional stress causes premature failures of concrete slabs requiring more frequent maintenance, which increases operating costs. Third, the area for storage of containers is not large enough. This has resulted in the establishment of a multilevel storage system that requires dock machinery to travel farther and to move up and down inclines. All of this increased activity greatly accelerates engine and drive-train wear and associated maintenance. It also takes longer to handle the containers, further compromising the efficiency of the dock. In response to these drawbacks, a vision for a larger, more rationally organized dock was laid down and plans developed. Dock expansion work is moving toward

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fulfilling the vision of a larger dock facility with storage areas level with the dock itself. The facility will allow more cargo to be moved more rapidly. In early August 2009 dock construction work had been temporarily halted; work of this nature is limited by spawning season. This is an example of concerns that have to be factored in for any coastal engineering project in marine sensitive areas. The borough visualizes economic possibilities arising from tapping into some form of locally available renewable power (geothermal or wind generated) and using the less expensive electricity to set up a refrigerated container handling facility. This would increase port efficiency by allowing the refrigerated containers to be stored for longer periods of time. Businesses would also have the option of flying out frozen salmon at peak times. Reducing diesel dependency would also represent a sound environmental decision for this sensitive area. Coastal hazards can directly affect the fisheries. A cannery (Fig. 4.9.6) recently sustained several million dollars in damage during a winter storm. Unlike fall storms, which are guaranteed to be problematic for the coastal zones, winter storms are typically less severe because landfast ice is in place. Landfast ice acts as an effective coastal armoring and reduces the potential of waves to do damage. Ice of almost one meter thickness had formed in the ocean in the immediate vicinity of the cannery; however, the ice cover did not extend out into Bristol Bay, an unusual condition for that time of year. The open water fetch beyond the ice allowed a surge to develop during the storm, which drove in a pulse of water that floated the ice near the coast and drove it upward. The ice was attached to the cannery wharf pilings and, as it lifted and broke, demolished the wharf. This represents an example of emerging engineering concerns accompanying climate change. A reduced ice season means more open water with shorefast ice, which in turn means more potential for surges driving damaging coastal ice-shove events. Local attempts to deal with coastal zone hazards (Fig. 4.9.7) are met by various obstacles, including the borough code. The code is outdated and needs an overhaul to remove various ordinances that, for example, have a default position of favoring potentially damaging development practices. The overhaul process can be time consuming and labor intensive, requiring resources the borough often is unable to spare. Uneducated or uncooperative citizenry is another obstacle; the borough has to deal with nuisance permit applications put forward by the local citizenry that contravene best practices. Another problem concerns the patchwork of local zoning and associated regulations. This can make planning difficult, as evidenced by the treatment facility setup. Many zones are classified as Native allotments—legacy assignments to individuals—on which no building or use is allowed without consent. Native corporations are also involved with land issues. All of this serves to bind the hands of the borough as it seeks to implement solutions to problems in a manner that makes sense for the region as a community.

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Figure 4.9.6. Repairs underway at a cannery that was heavily damaged by a winter storm early in 2009. Photo by D. Atkinson.

The foregoing represents development pressures that are largely internal, that is, by the community for the community. However, the north holds many reserves of natural resources that industrialized southern societies are finding increasingly difficult to procure locally. As a result, large-scale extraction efforts have followed western societies’ initial exploratory forays into the north (see Chapter 4.1)—for more than one hundred years north of Scandinavia (Svalbard in 1899) and, in the last four decades, in the North American Arctic (Nanisivik, north Baffin Island, 1976; Prudhoe Bay, north Alaska, 1977). Almost all of these operations intersect the coastal marine environment in some form. This has also now arrived on the doorstep of the Bristol Bay region. A recent controversy has emerged surrounding the proposed establishment of what would be known as the Pebble Mine, designed to extract ore from arguably the largest gold reserve in the world and one of the largest of copper (Dobb and Melford 2010). This enterprise would bring a major

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new source of cash, jobs, and industrial development to a region that could use all three—employing several thousand people for decades to come. The influx of revenue would also help offset the high prices of fuel and commodities. However, the location of the mineral reserve straddles the spawning headwaters of two of the major salmon fish runs upon which the Bristol Bay fishery rests (Fig. 4.9.1). Any release of contaminated water—and the mine will generate 30 billion gallons of contaminated water per year—could cause major damage to the fishery. Although the design specifies stringent environmental protection structures, the potential remains. A road to a proposed deepwater port would also be required, and that would cut across several other spawning rivers. The salmon fishery, capable of generating less annual income than Pebble Mine could, nonetheless employs far more people than a mine would and represents a perpetually renewable resource if managed carefully, which is now the case. In late 2009 the Bristol Bay Native Corporation (BBNC) weighed in on the debate. BBNC is one of several federally created Alaska regional native corporations; in form it is a diversified holding company that owns mineral rights and provides various environmental and industrial services as well as general investment opportunities for its shareholders in the Bristol Bay region. The BBNC had remained silent as the discussion progressed, but in late 2009 they voted against the Pebble Mine and stated further that permits to extract the aggregate material required for construction would also be denied (Bluemink 2009a). The BBNC position has real impact because they represent shareholders and land rights throughout the Bristol Bay region (Bluemink 2009a). This has halted the Pebble Mine consortium for the time being. The debate will continue, however, as the Pebble Mine consortium continues to refine plans to demonstrate how development of this mine can proceed safely alongside the fisheries. The closing comment in the Dobb and Melford’s 2010 National Geographic piece sums up the challenge of the large-scale, external development pressures that are coming to bear on the north: For the residents of the region, “It’s time to decide .╯.╯. what we value most.”

Teck Alaska Incorporated: An Industrial Neighbor A major industrial facility on the northwest Alaska coast is Teck Alaska Inc. Teck operates the Red Dog Mine and a port facility for their partner, the NANA Regional Corporation, which owns the land. Foss Maritime provides a lightering barge service under contract to Teck. The mine itself is located approximately 50 miles inland from the coast of the Chukchi Sea (Fig. 4.9.1). It is one of the largest open-pit zinc mines in the world and accounts for about 10% of worldwide zinc production (Figs. 4.9.8, 4.9.9). The

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Figure 4.9.7. Remnants of a collapsed platform at a park on the Naknek River. Note the lack of vegetation on the bluffs. Photo by D. Atkinson.

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mine is also an important producer of lead. Blasting operations remove ore from the ground, and the ore is processed into a mineral concentrate that is transported to the coast in 125-ton b-train configuration over-the-road haulage trucks. At the port, the concentrate is stored in two storage buildings—the two largest buildings in the state of Alaska. The largest is 1,430 feet long, 210 feet wide, and 80 feet tall. The road between the mine and the port facility is the only road in that region. The road and the port facility are known as the DeLong Mountain Transportation System (DMTS) and are owned by the Alaska Industrial Development and Export Authority. Teck maintains and operates the DMTS and pays the state a toll fee for its use. Mine operations and truck transportation of concentrate occur on a yearround, 24/7 basis. Marine transportation of concentrate, however, is not a year-round operation. Sea ice necessitates the use of such large storage facilities. The shipping season starts when the ice clears out, typically the first week of July. Shipping ceases by the middle of October; sea ice is beginning to re-form generally by the first week in

Figure 4.9.8. The open pit at Teck Alaska’s Red Dog Mine. Photo by D. Atkinson.

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November. Shipping operations at the Red Dog port consist typically of five Foss Maritime oceangoing tugs and two lightering barges whose primary duty is to lighter the ore concentrate from a shallow-water dock onto bulk ore carriers standing 6 kilometers offshore. The Red Dog port is what is known as a “lightering facility,” which means large ships do not actually berth at a port but have ore taken out to them using lightering barges. At the dock, nominal water depths are 7 meters. The Foss tugs handle shallow draft barges that transfer the product to the bulk carriers. This arrangement meets the needs of the operation and has eliminated the need for a much larger port facility, thereby mitigating coastal impacts. The lightering barges take on concentrate, delivered via a large conveyor system that is almost 3 kilometers in length (Fig. 4.9.10). The barges are unique, built by Foss specifically for use at this operation. The tugs maneuver the barges out to the waiting ships, pin the barges to the ships while transfer is being conducted, and return the barges to dockside. The freighters range from handy- to panamax-class bulk carriers with useful loads ranging, respectively, from 28,000–40,000 tons to as much as 60,000 tons. Typically approximately twenty-five ships are handled during a shipping season; in 2009 Teck planned to ship 1.36 million metric tons of concentrate (1.13 mt zinc

Figure 4.9.9. The processing facility at Teck Alaska’s Red Dog Mine. Photo by D. Atkinson.

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and 0.23 mt lead). Red Dog Mine is resupplied by sea because there are no roads in western Alaska. This coastal occupant faces a variety of challenges that are typical for an industrial operation. The Red Dog Creek valley, where the ore body was discovered in the late 1960s, is naturally contaminated with heavy metals. There were no fish in the stream and vegetation growth was limited in the creek valley. The company was thus faced with the immediate challenge of limiting the environmental risk of heavy metal contamination; lead dust generated in processing operations was of particular concern. Teck has thus engaged in a series of aggressive mediation and control policies. To control discharge to the creek, which could ultimately reach the near-shore marine environment, a sophisticated water management and treatment system was put in place. Isolation of the creek in the area of the ore body and metals removal of site water prior to discharge mitigate the contaminant load imposed on the creek. In fact, Teck has been pleased to boast recently that fish have returned to Red Dog Creek downstream of the mine, necessitating construction of a fish weir. The Department of Fish and Game has documented improved water quality that now allows fish spawning in areas of pre-mining mortality. Truck operations and concentrate transfer operations at the port are potential sources of dust. To keep dust levels down, Foss Maritime equipped the lightering barges with large skirts and air handling systems. To reduce dust generated by trucking operations, the trucks are unloaded in an enclosed building with an air handling system. Vehicle ore hoppers are totally enclosed and are regularly cleaned at a truck-cleaning

Figure 4.9.10. The conveyor, lightering system, and Foss Maritime tugboats at Teck Alaska’s DeLong Mountain Terminal. Photo by D. Atkinson.

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facility. The roads are continuously sprayed with water to mitigate dust over the tundra. To monitor airborne lead to ensure compliance, the mine and port facilities maintain a grid of airborne particulate sensors. The large fuel storage facility at the port is another major potential hazard for the coastal region. To reduce chances of accidental spills, Teck has a series of safeguards in place. These include double-hull fuel storage tanks, a dedicated and isolated spill runoff catchment area, and fully automated computer monitor and control systems for early leak detection and remote control of valves that enables rapid response to problems. While erosion is not a problem at the harbor, the long-shore transport of sediment can be. Approximately every two years the company is obliged to conduct a certain amount of dredging to keep the south side of the dock area deep enough for safe tug operation. Annually the operation also manages buildup of sediment north of the dock by physically transferring beach gravel from the north side to the south side. Other physical environment issues that can cause difficulties include winds and waves. Surges are not a particular problem here, except when they act to increase the height of waves. The most immediate impact of winds is their influence on the ocean to cause waves, which is the typical issue for arctic coasts. However, strong winds on their own have caused problems; for example, in the winter of 2008–2009 a strong wind event damaged several structures at the port facility. The most pressing concern for port operations is the sea-state. Large waves can develop during the passage of a storm in a manner that is familiar in the midlatitudes. Often, however, particular arrangements of pressure systems can stall, giving strong (e.g., as in the Bristol Bay region, see above), persistent winds for several days. This is an occurrence that is much less common in the mid-latitudes. These events are particularly problematic because they can shut down shipping operations for several days and can result in a buildup of shipping traffic. Not all strong wind events generate problematic seas for the Red Dog port. The location of the facility with respect to the different land features around it means that the largest waves are generated from a few specific directions. Generally anything with a westerly component is problematic, but of potential greater concern are flows from the northwest, which give a fetch that stretches across the Chukchi Sea north of Russia, or from the southwest, which give a fetch that can stretch south through the Bering Strait. Problematic sea-states occur numerous times each year, and sometimes wave heights can reach large proportions. The frequency of severe wave states and the presence of sea ice meant that the dock facility and conveyor supports had to be strongly constructed. The conveyor supports are “open cell” structures with a corrugated heavy steel wall driven into the ocean bottom that has been arranged in a large circular pattern around the supports and backfilled with large rocks.

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Such is the subtlety of the coastal orientation that, when the wave direction is just right, the portside area can be almost calm while the freighter anchorage 6 kilometers offshore can be so rough as to render operations unsafe. This is caused by the fact that the Red Dog port is recessed into a slight embayment when looking along the coast from the northwest. Not every high wave state is necessarily problematic. The greatest challenges are posed by long-period swells, that is, waves that have wavelengths roughly similar to the length of the bulk ore carriers. In those cases, the large ships move a lot, complicating loading operations. Shorter-period waves, even if they are high, do not affect the large ships. Another issue at least partially derived from winds is that of surface currents in the water. This area can experience coastal currents as great as 3.5 knots, which often change direction in a matter of a few boat lengths. This can complicate shipping operations because it can be difficult to hold the barges on station against such a current. Weather and marine-state forecasting is thus critical to these operations, partly because it is a waste to get crews up and running only to recall them. However, forecasting of weather systems is a particular challenge here due to a lack of data upstream of the area (i.e., the western North Pacific). Forecasts can sometimes be off, leading to unnecessarily lost days, e.g., when a forecast severe wave state does not occur. In terms of the regional social fabric, Teck strives to be a good neighbor. Mitigation of hazardous emissions is the starting point, but the company also works to do as much local hiring as possible to contribute to the local economy. It responds promptly in times of need, helping, for example, with free fuel for searchand-rescue operations. On one occasion, Teck housed several hundred residents from the town of Kivalina when they evacuated fearing flooding due to a coming storm. During that event, Foss sent a tug up to the village in an attempt to evacuate residents so they would not have to make the difficult journey overland on small all-terrain vehicles. While at the port, maintenance was performed on the village’s vehicles. Of course, there are points of friction. Not everyone wants to see industrial operations in these regions of the world. Some local residents feel animals are being adversely affected (Bluemink 2009b), although it is difficult to conclusively pin down reasons for changing patterns. There is concern that such activity forms another element of cultural erosion in the face of western expansion and that, no matter how much mitigation is performed, an irreversible mark is left on the land. Teck also recognizes that it functions as a convenient outpost for scientific research activities, and it is willing to cooperate with university and government scientists. Teck has assisted with research on polar bears, geology, and oceanography/storms. The latest chapter in the Red Dog Mine story came over the summer of 2010 as Teck Alaska Inc. was seeking permitting to begin excavation work on a new ore body. Some residents of the communities of Kivalina and Point Hope challenged

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both the EPA and Teck Alaska Inc. on permits that had been recently issued (Pemberton 2010), resulting in a delay while the EPA reconsidered its position. If the delay persisted, Teck Alaska Inc. would have had to initiate a shutdown of the facility. Again, however, the objective is not to shut the operation down because, via taxes, jobs, and other forms of support, it has become an integral key to economic viability in the Northwest Arctic Borough; most of the entities in the region are in favor of the mine. And so, as reported in the Anchorage Daily News (Pemberton 2010), one resident of Kivalina stated that “No one wants to shut down the mine. We just want them to be responsible.” As of summer 2010, Teck Alaska Inc. had commenced preliminary operations to prepare the new site for excavations, despite lingering uncertainty surrounding the required permits (Lasley 2010).

References Bluemink, E. 2009a. Bristol Bay Native Corp. opposes Pebble. Anchorage Daily News, Dec. 11, 2009. Bluemink, E. 2009b. Subsistence harvest near Red Dog Mine declines. Anchorage Daily News, Jan. 28, 2009. Dobb, E., and M. Melford. 2010. Alaska’s choice: Salmon or gold. National Geographic Magazine, December 2010: 101–125. Lasley, S. 2010. Mining news: Excitement about Aqqaluk mounts at NANA: Iñupiat shareholders look forward to 20 more years of economic benefits from the next zinc-lead deposit to be mined at Red Dog. North of 60 Mining News, June 27, 2010. 15(26). Ogorodov, S. A. 2005. Human impacts on coastal stability in the Pechora Sea. GeoMarine Letters, 25(2–3):190–195. Pemberton, M. 2010. Red Dog gets setback over discharge permit. Anchorage Daily News, Mar. 27, 2010. Port of Bristol Bay, Naknek, Alaska. 2010. Retrieved from http://www.theborough.com/ port.html. Smith, O. 2002. Coastal erosion in Alaska. In Arctic coastal dynamics: Report of an international workshop. Potsdam (Germany) 26–30 November 2001. Edited by V. Rachold, J. Brown, and S. Solomon. Berichte zur Polar- und Meeresforschung (Reports on polar and marine research), 413, 103 pp.

As

we move across

Alaska

from the Interior to the marine waters off the coasts,

we arrive at two interrelated sets of sea and ocean concerns—the health of living resources and the infrastructure of the northern maritime environment. Northern

marine systems are in flux due to changes across geophysical, ecological, and social systems in the Arctic. Ocean temperatures, salinity, and the changing sea ice are affecting the biological productivity of circumpolar waters, and potential feedbacks from such ecosystem changes pose serious challenges. For example, as permafrost from frozen landscapes thaws and releases freshwater into rivers, organic materials that release carbon dioxide are carried into the sea (Hjalmarsson 2009; Holmes et al. 2008). Simultaneously, this influx pushes fresh water into a saline environment, which can have repercussions on thermohaline circulation—the planet’s “ocean conveyor belt” (Peterson et al. 2002). This circulation is driven by water density, determined by temperature and salinity, and among other things it affects the global climate by transferring heat to the Arctic Ocean. In the midst of such processes, record changes in the annual sea ice cycle have become a focus of climate change concerns. In short, it appears that as the North warms, melting ice and thawing permafrost contribute to a suite of feedbacks that drive further system change. While there is debate over whether a tipping point is on the horizon to produce a collapse of the sea ice system (Voosen 2010), there is not much scientific debate over general pan-Arctic sea ice decline and increased variability (with implications for predictability), in particular at the regional scale. Because it has been a defining feature of far northern communities for millennia, one can describe sea ice as a social-ecological system that provides services and presents hazards to people in the circumpolar north. In the same way that unpredictable river ice creates a hazard for those who depend on it, uncertainty surrounding sea ice is detrimental to the suite of valuable services people count on such as its function as a climate regulator, coastal buffer, platform for hunting and travel, and habitat for plants and animals (Eicken et al. 2009). However, as sea ice retreats, it also reduces the hazards associated with its previous year- round presence. The coastal seas and the Arctic Ocean are primed for an expansion of maritime traffic that is a result of increased economic interests in resources on land and in the ocean. Technological advances in oceangoing vessels, satellite and deep sea observational equipment, and hydrocarbon exploration have stimulated government and business interests in the Arctic marine environment. But, travel in this area, facilitated by retreating ice, is concurrent with the growing threats to ice-dependent species and climate processes. The changing geophysical and chemical properties of northern waters as noted above clearly affect the biological components of the system. The physiology, geographic range, and behavior patterns of Arctic marine mammals, fish, shellfish, and plants—subsistence and economic resources—are changing as the waters warm. The human dimension is inherent in Section 5 because people depend, from the community level to the globalized industrial conglomerates, on northern waters for food. This dependence goes beyond a seal or halibut and to the

cold-loving microorganisms that help to regulate and sustain the web of life in the Arctic. As the chapters indicate, we seem to be in a race between the adaptation of regulatory institutions to govern human activities and the northward expansion of those activities. Take as an example the possibility that stocks of fish in US waters may migrate north to Russian waters. How will we alter our treaties and agreements? Consider the shrinking habitat of seals and polar bears. Will governance be able to balance protection of these species with expanded industrial activities? Section 5 covers the subject of living marine resources and their future from multiple scales. Section 6 addresses this race as well but from the standpoint of infrastructure, transport, and security.

References Eicken, H., A. L. Lovecraft, and M. L. Druckenmiller. 2009. Sea-ice system services: A framework to help identify and meet information needs relevant for Arctic observing networks. Arctic 62(2), 119–136. Hjalmarsson, S. 2009. Carbon dynamics in northern marginal seas. Doctoral dissertation. University of Gothenburg, Sweden. Holmes, R. M., J. W. McClelland, P. A. Raymond, B. B. Frazer, B. J. Peterson, and M. Stieglitz. 2008. Lability of DOC transported by Alaskan rivers to the Arctic Ocean. Geophysical Research Letters, 35, L03402, doi:10.1029/2007GL032837. Peterson, B. J., R. M. Holmes, J. W. McClelland, C. J. Vörösmarty, I. A. Shiklomanov, A. I. Shiklomanov, R. B. Lammers, and S. Rahmstorf. 2002. Increasing river discharge to the Arctic Ocean. Science 298: 2171–2173. Voosen, P. 2010. No “tipping point” for sea ice in polar bears’ future. New York Times, December 15.

5

Management of Living Marine Resources

Section editor: Keith R. Criddle

PLATE 005 Walrus4Sale Holly Nordlum Mixed media 30" x 40" 2010

5.1

Introduction by keith r. criddle

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esilience of the social-ecological systems founded on living marine resources depends on the resilience of the species themselves, the resilience of the ecosystem in which they live, the resilience of management systems that govern access to and use of them, and the resilience of economic sectors and communities that depend on them. Criddle et al. (Chapter 5.2) provide a background on the legal framework that provides a basis for governance and management of marine fisheries. These laws establish boundaries on socially and politically acceptable management measures. In so doing, these laws both contribute to and detract from resilience. The effect of federal and Alaska State law is to mandate that catch limits be based on scientific advice guided by standards intended to prevent overfishing as defined by biological reference points estimated over a historic period. This approach has been robust for dealing with modest variations in biological productivity. However, when the abundance of harvested populations is driven to low levels by environmental forcing, as in, for example, Pribilof Islands blue king crab, the management system becomes dysfunctional; it is not possible to use limits on catch to rebuild a stock that is not and has not been subject to fishing. Mueter et al. (Chapter 5.3) show that climate change can be expected to cause changes to the overall productivity of marine systems, changes in the carrying capacity and productivity of individual fish stocks, and changes in the spatial distribution of fish stocks. Climate forcing can be expected to affect some stocks more than others. For some of these stocks, such as Pribilof Islands blue king crab, the changes may render current management goals infeasible. Although warming and extended ice-free seasons could increase primary productivity, the actual outcome could depend on unique local conditions. For example, in the eastern Bering Sea, in recent warm years with early ice retreat, productivity decreased due to increased stability in the water column and decreased availability of nutrients in the upper 301

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water column. Moreover, even if overall primary production remains constant, climate change could lead to changes in energetic pathways, favoring increased productivity of pelagic systems and reduced productivity of benthic systems. Regulatory structures also affect the achievable magnitude of benefits. For example, Alaska’s salmon limited entry program created an economic system that dissipated resource value in a race for fish. It was unable to withstand price competition occasioned by an aquaculture-fueled ninefold increase in the world supply of high-unit-value salmon. The management structure adopted for salmon has been biologically resilient but economically unstable. In contrast, the management structures adopted for the halibut, sablefish, pollock, and crab fisheries have created substantial economic benefits. However, as Carothers (Chapter 5.5) notes, social choices about governance systems create winners and losers. Thus, even as resource allocation regimes have increased economic resilience for some stakeholders and communities, these management systems have decreased the economic and social resilience of other stakeholders and communities. The benefits have, to a large degree, accrued to the politically empowered—the owners and operators of large vessels and processing plants. The adverse effects have been particularly pronounced in small, remote, and largely indigenous coastal villages. Adoption of the Arctic Fishery Management Plan (FMP) and creation of the Northern Bering Sea Research Area show that the governance and management systems for federal fisheries off Alaska do not have to be reactionary but can anticipate climate change (Mueter et al. and Criddle et al., Chapter 5.3 and Chapter 5.2, this volume). In these instances, the management agency has adopted measures to prevent large commercial fisheries from following northward-shifting fish stocks until such time as there is a better understanding of the capabilities and resilience of the northern Bering Sea, Chukchi Sea, and Beaufort Sea ecosystems. Change in the abundance and spatial distribution of commercially important fish stocks affects the profitability of fishing and the magnitude of economic impacts in fishery-dependent communities. Mueter et al. (Chapter 5.3) note that a climate-induced northwestward shift in the distribution of pollock forced a redistribution of fishing effort to fishing grounds that were farther from port. This shift had a greater impact on the inshore sector (catcher vessels that mostly deliver to processing plants in Unalaska and Akutan) than it had on the offshore sector. The latter has onboard processing capacity and the ability to spend more days on the fishing grounds for each trip to and from port. Small vessels fishing near remote home ports are particularly sensitive to reductions in the local abundance of target fish stocks. Meek (Chapter 5.4) explores the evolution of US management of fur seals, bowhead whales, and polar bears. For all three species, regulation of subsistence harvests created an artificial division between commercial and subsistence uses.

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Such regulation ignored the role of subsistence harvests as economic factors in traditional nonmonetary economies. These rules severely constrained traditional patterns of trade among Native peoples. They framed subsistence harvests as anachronistic activities to be subject to restrictions against the adoption of modern harvest techniques, motorized vessels, or the use of cash as a medium of exchange. Because management of these species is subject to byzantine layers of overlapping federal and state laws and international treaties, evolution of management goals and rules is slow relative to the pace of change of the ecosystem and social and cultural systems. Where Carothers and Meek emphasize the importance of involving local peoples in the development of management goals and the design of policies to foster those goals, Robards et al. (Chapter 5.6) emphasize the importance of drawing in local expertise to gain a better understanding of climate-induced changes in processes and conditions that affect wildlife. Local knowledge is often highly effective at elucidating causal linkages between changes in ecosystem services, their impact on living marine resources, and consequent changes in patterns of resource use. Because lethal takes of marine mammals, even for research, are limited under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, the Endangered Species Act, and international treaties and conventions, cooperation with local subsistence hunters is one of the few means available for researchers to obtain tissue samples needed for physiological and isotopic ratio analyses and to examine stomach contents and test for pathogens. Carefully conducted interviews with subsistence hunters regarding their choices of prey and their hunting grounds can be used to adjust raw data to obtain unbiased estimates of the size and demographics of harvested populations. Understanding how changing environmental conditions influence the accessibility of marine mammal populations to subsistence hunters from different communities is a critical precondition for understanding the magnitude of challenges these communities will face in coming years.

Figure 5.2.1. The US Exclusive Economic Zone off Alaska (yellow border).

5.2

Marine Fisheries off Alaska by keith r. criddle, diana evans, and diana stram

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isheries in the nearly 900,000-square-mile Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) off Alaska (Fig.  5.2.1) yield more than half of all US landings of fish and shellfish and about $1.7 billion in exvessel revenues to commercial fishers. The consequences of climate change to these fisheries will depend on the resilience of the ecological system, resilience of the resource governance regime, and resilience of the resource-dependent social and economic systems. This chapter provides an introduction to the governance and management of marine fisheries off Alaska and an introduction to the principal fisheries and the current status of fished stocks. This information is essential to understanding how these fisheries will be affected by climate change in the coming decades. While the examples provided below are specific to Alaska, similar issues can be expected to arise across the circumpolar north.

Fisheries Governance As fishing power increased in the wake of World War II, coastal nations became increasingly concerned about the effects of unchecked fishing in waters immediately outside their 12-mile territorial seas. Diplomatic conflicts in The Hague spilled over into armed confrontations off Iceland, Ecuador, and Peru as coastal nations asserted authority over access to fishery resources in the high seas adjacent to their territorial waters. By the mid-1970s, there was general global consensus that coastal nations could exercise control over commercially valuable fishery and mineral resources within an EEZ that extended from their shore outward for 200 miles. Where there was overlap, the EEZ boundaries were to be settled in bilateral or multilateral negotiations. These terms were formalized in the Law of the Sea treaty, along with a provision that entitles signatories to assert claims to mineral 305

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resources beyond the 200-mile limit when such resources are located on continuations of the continental mass of the claimant. The EEZs of the United States, Canada, Greenland, Norway, and Russia cover all but the central-most portions of the Arctic Ocean. While large-scale commercial fisheries have not yet emerged in the western Arctic, there are growing fisheries in the eastern Arctic; pressure to expand these fisheries will increase as the Arctic becomes increasingly ice-free and as fisheries in other regions are further depleted. Interest in mineral and petroleum resources has already led some nations to assert seabed claims that extend beyond their EEZs. Federal and state authority over fisheries is set forth in the state and federal constitutions, laws passed by US Congress and by the Alaska Legislature, regulations issued by federal and state agencies, common law precedents, and treaties with sovereign nations and dependent sovereign entities. In general, the state of Alaska has jurisdiction over commercial, sport, and subsistence fisheries in lakes, streams, and rivers within state boundaries. It also has jurisdiction over fisheries in marine waters within 3 miles of the shoreline. Federal jurisdiction includes fisheries in lakes, streams, and rivers encompassed by federal lands within state borders and all fisheries that occur in marine waters from 3 to 200 miles offshore. International treaties affect the management and conduct of halibut and salmon fisheries off Alaska.

Common Law Common law underpins ownership of property, the creation and enforcement of contracts, and settlement of nuisances and torts. Property law is the governing basis for determining who is entitled to access fish and other living marine resources and whether that access is open to all, managed as a common pool, or subject to a system of license limitation, spatial use rights, cooperatives, or individual quotas. Based on legal precedents in the United States, navigable waterways and fish that reside in them are public trust resources. Transfer of ownership of such resources to private persons is only permissible when doing so benefits the public interest (National Research Council [NRC] 1999; Simmons 2007). Consequently, although individuals or groups can be granted license to harvest fish and other living marine resources, government typically retains a trust responsibility for safeguarding the sustainability of those resources (McCay 1998).

Federal Constitutional Law Although the US Constitution does not directly reference fisheries, it does determine the relationship between federal and state authority and the rights of individuals. Bader (1998) suggests that the property clause (Art. 4, Sec. 3) provides a

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basis for federal authority over fishery resources associated with federal lands and in the EEZ even if those resources stray onto state or private lands. Because the commerce clause (Art. 1, Sec. 8) assigns exclusive authority over interstate commerce, movement of fish across state boundaries or into or out of federal waters is subject to federal oversight (Bader 1998). The treaty clause (Art. 2, Sec. 2) provides the federal government with authority to override state and local interests in favor of agreements with sovereign nations or dependent sovereign entities. States’ authority over fish resources derives from the federal Constitution. Principally, it is the authority to exercise police powers that allows each state to fulfill its responsibilities for management of public trust resources. States can join together in interstate compacts to jointly manage shared fishery resources. The regional Fishery Management Councils established under the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act of 1976 can be regarded as a collection of interstate compacts mandated and moderated by the federal government (Bader 1998). The constitutional authority of tribes rests in their status as dependent sovereign entities with authority to regulate nonmember access to resources on tribal lands. While there are no recognized tribal claims in the Bering, Chukchi, or Beaufort Seas, court decisions are increasingly supportive of recognizing a tribal character to Native claims in Alaska, and tribal claims may come to be recognized in these waters. The US Constitution also conveys individual rights that relate to fisheries management. For example, states are prohibited from discriminating against citizens of other states. While nonresidents may be charged higher fees for access to resources, any fee differential must be founded on real differences in the cost of management or in the burden of funding for management. The takings clause protects private ownership interests once those interests have been established. For example, ownership can be established through capture; landing fish aboard a vessel or ashore renders them a possession of the captor.

Federal Statutes and Regulations Statutes passed by the legislative branch are transformed into regulations by executive branch agencies. The most important federal statute for US fisheries management is the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, which established US authority for management of fishery resources in the EEZ and delegated that authority to the secretary of commerce. It also created a system of regional Fishery Management Councils that are responsible for preparing Fishery Management Plans (FMPs) for living marine resources subject to fishing. Under the 2006 reauthorization of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, the Fishery

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Management Councils are constrained to set total allowable catch limits that are at or below the allowable biological catch limits established by their Scientific and Statistical Committees. This has been the standard operating procedure in the North Pacific Fishery Management Council, which is responsible for fisheries off Alaska, and has been identified as an important factor in the successful management of these fisheries (Pew Oceans Commission 2003; Witherell 2005). Section 301 of the Magnuson-Stevens Act specifies ten national standards to be used to judge the admissibility of proposed conservation and management measures. FMPs are required to (1) prevent overfishing while achieving, on a continuing basis, the optimum yield from each fishery; (2) be based on the best scientific information available; (3) manage stocks of fish as a unit throughout their range; (4) avoid discrimination between residents of different states and ensure that any allocation or assignment of fishing privileges be fair and equitable, calculated to promote conservation, and carried out in such a manner that no particular entity acquires an excessive share of such privileges; (5) consider efficiency in the utilization of fishery resources; (6) take into account and allow for variations among, and contingencies in, fisheries, fishery resources, and catches; (7) minimize costs and avoid unnecessary regulatory duplication; (8) minimize adverse economic impacts on fishing communities; (9) minimize bycatch and bycatch mortality; and (10) promote the safety of human life at sea. Fisheries management is also strongly affected by three other federal statutes. The National Environmental Policy Act of 1969 requires evaluation of possible environmental consequences of proposed actions to inform decision-making processes including the establishment or amendment of FMPs and setting annual catch limits. The Endangered Species Act of 1966 requires the conservation of species listed as threatened or endangered. Compliance with the ESA requires determining if proposed FMP amendments or annual catch limits could adversely affect listed species or adversely modify their critical habitat. The Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 requires that proposed FMP amendments be examined to identify any adverse impacts to populations of marine mammals.

Alaska State Law and Regulation The Alaska Constitution contains three sections that explicitly address fisheries: Article VIII, Section 3 reaffirms the public trust status of fishery resources (Bader 1998; Macinko 1993); Article VIII, Section 4 directs that fish resources be managed to achieve sustainable yields; and Article VIII, Section 15 restricts the authority of state agencies to grant exclusive harvest rights. These sections set a minimum on the number of permits that can be included in limited entry fisheries and prohibit the issuance of individual fishing quotas in state fisheries.

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Federal Fishery Management The North Pacific Fishery Management Council has implemented six regional FMPs for Alaska fisheries: the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands and Gulf of Alaska groundfish FMPs; the Arctic Management Area FMP; the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands crab FMP; the scallop FMP; and the salmon FMP. Understanding the scope of these FMPs and their limitations is crucial to understanding how they contribute to or detract from the resilience of marine fishery-based socialecological systems. The six FMPs and their associated amendments govern annual catch limits; restrict various fishing practices relating to gear, bycatch and discard requirements, and allocation of fishery privileges among fishers; and constrain spatial and temporal access to fishery resources. Substantial areas of the EEZ off Alaska have been closed to all fishing, or closed to groundfish fishing with trawl gear, to mitigate adverse interactions between fishing vessels and marine mammals, to protect sensitive habitat for fish or marine mammal species, or to control bycatch of non-target species. In addition, the North Pacific Fishery Management Council develops allocative management measures for the halibut fishery off Alaska, which is managed under the terms of a treaty with Canada. Development of the FMPs and subsequent amendments are subject to an extensive public process, set up under the Magnuson-Stevens Act. Each proposed FMP or amendment is analyzed by staff to determine the impacts of the proposed action or alternative actions that may accomplish the same purpose. Staff analyses are reviewed by the Scientific and Statistical Committee, a stakeholder Advisory Panel, and the North Pacific Fishery Management Council during at least one, and usually several, public meetings at which written and oral testimony is solicited from the public. Additionally, for major actions, the council often sets up committees of interested stakeholders to provide additional advice. The FMPs have evolved differently with respect to the deference accorded federal and state fishery managers. Federal fishery managers have a predominant role in the case of those fisheries that were undeveloped or largely prosecuted by foreign vessels at the time the Magnuson-Stevens Act was adopted; state fishery managers take the lead for most fisheries that have enjoyed a long history of US participation.

Federal Management The Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands and Gulf of Alaska groundfish FMPs and the Arctic Management Area FMP are all exclusively under federal management. Up until the early 1980s, the groundfish fisheries off Alaska were largely prosecuted by foreign vessels. With the advent of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, which encouraged domestication of fisheries within the US EEZ, a domestic groundfish fishery was

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gradually established, working first in joint ventures with the foreign processing vessels. Since the early 1990s, the groundfish fisheries have been entirely pursued by US vessels. This change in economic organization and the distribution of economic benefits has been the result of conscious choices reflected in amendments to the FMPs. In turn, it has necessitated amendments to the FMPs to address unexpected consequences of the Americanization of the fisheries. The Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands groundfish FMP was implemented in 1982 and has been amended more than eighty times to address evolving biological, management, and social issues. The BSAI FMP covers fisheries for all stocks of finfish except salmonids, halibut, herring, and invertebrates. It sets an overall optimum yield cap of 2 million metric tons for the aggregate total allowable catch for all FMP species in the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands region. The BSAI FMP management area includes the US EEZ lying south of a straight line from Cape Prince of Wales to Cape Dezhnev, Russia (68°21'N), east of the US–USSR convention line of 1988,1 and extending south of the Aleutian Islands for 200 miles between the convention line and Scotch Cap Light (164°44'36"W). The eastern boundary is 3 miles offshore of the western Alaska coast north of the Aleutian Islands and east of 170°W longitude. The FMP area is divided into two fishing areas, the Bering Sea subarea and the Aleutian Islands subarea, within which districts are defined for the purpose of spatially allocating the total allowable catch. The Gulf of Alaska groundfish FMP was implemented in 1978 and has since been amended more than seventy times. The GOA FMP covers fisheries for all stocks of finfish except salmonids, halibut, herring, tuna, some rockfish species occurring primarily in state waters (0–3 nm), and lingcod. The GOA FMP management area consists of the portions of the US EEZ in the North Pacific Ocean south of the Aleutian Islands and between the eastern Aleutian Islands at 170°W longitude and Dixon Entrance at 132°40'W longitude.2 Although there have not been any commercial fisheries in the US Arctic to date, the North Pacific Fishery Management Council has developed the Arctic FMP. The council was concerned that prolonged ice-free seasons and possible temperature-induced changes in the distribution of commercially valuable species could lead to the development of commercial fisheries. Therefore, an Arctic FMP is needed to provide an adequate understanding of the abundance and dynamics of target and non-target species and an adequate framework to guard against overfishing or adverse impacts to habitat or marine mammal populations. Unlike the groundfish FMPs, the Arctic FMP was developed for the geographical area of the Arctic, rather than for a specific fishery. It applies to all marine finfish and shellfish except salmon (which is jointly managed by the North Pacific Fishery Management Council and the state of Alaska) and halibut (which is

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managed under the terms of a treaty with Canada). Target fisheries are established for three species (arctic cod, saffron cod, and snow crab), and all other species are placed in an ecosystem components category that is off-limits to fishing. Optimum yield for the three target species is set to zero, thereby blocking the development of commercial fisheries until such time as sufficient information becomes available to suggest that such fisheries could be sustainable. The management area for the Arctic FMP (Fig. 5.2.2) is the US EEZ portions of the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas, north of the Bering Strait (from Cape Prince of Wales to Cape Dezhnev) and westward to the 1990 US–Russia maritime boundary and eastward to the US–Canada maritime boundary.3

State Management with Federal Oversight The three remaining FMPs include various degrees of delegated management to the state of Alaska. This management structure developed because at the time of the implementation of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, these fisheries were already

Figure 5.2.2. Areas governed under the Arctic Area FMP.

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being managed by the state of Alaska. As the fisheries do occur in the federal waters of the EEZ, however, a joint management structure was developed. Because these FMPs involve a co-management relationship, they are less easily amended and the policy choice set is somewhat constrained by provisions of the Alaska Constitution (discussed above). The Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands crab FMP covers fisheries for red, blue, and brown king crab, Tanner crab, and snow crab. As approved by the secretary of commerce in 1989, the BSAI FMP established a state–federal cooperative management regime that defers in-season management to the state of Alaska with federal oversight over the total allowable catch setting process, habitat protection, and access control measures. The BSAI FMP has been amended more than twenty times since its implementation and substantially modified following a 2004 amendment to the Magnuson-Stevens Act, which established individual fishing quotas and individual processing quotas. The BSAI king and Tanner crab FMP area corresponds with the groundfish FMP management area but is subdivided into state management districts. The scallop FMP was approved in 1995 and has since been amended ten times. The fishery is jointly managed by the National Marine Fisheries Service and the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. The weathervane scallop FMP includes harvest areas in the BSAI and GOA regions. The salmon FMP was developed in 1977, revised in 1980, and updated in 1990. Under this FMP, only limited troll fishing is allowed in the east area of the US EEZ. Management of salmon stocks and fisheries within state waters is deferred to the state of Alaska subject to treaty obligations. The salmon FMP covers the entire US EEZ off Alaska, including the Arctic.

Federal Allocative Management under the Halibut Act Fishing limits for halibut are determined by the International Pacific Halibut Commission, a bilateral organization between the United States and Canada, which was originally set up under the Halibut Convention in 1923. The North Pacific Fishery Management Council develops allocative management measures for the halibut commercial, sport, and subsistence fisheries, as recommendations for the secretary of commerce.

Resilience and Management of Alaska Region Fisheries The governance and character of Alaska region fisheries have evolved through time in response to shifts in the abundance and distribution of particular target species,

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changes in the population status of a species with which the fisheries interact, and market or other economic factors. These changes have been driven by environmental variation, climate change, and global economic processes. An ideal governance system would be resilient to these changes and would contribute to the resilience of ecological, social, and economic systems; however, some aspects of management under the Magnuson-Stevens Act and the Alaska regulatory structure are constraining. Nonetheless, the fisheries management system in Alaska strives to be adaptive within these limits. Some regulatory structures allow for greater flexibility than others. In general, those management systems that are put into place to address issue-specific concerns and problems lend themselves by necessity if not design to iterative approaches for solutions and management. Those that result from adherence to federal regulatory mandates tend to be less flexible. Four examples of Alaska management actions are discussed below. The first two describe specific measures that have been put into place in Alaska. The regulatory structure has been able to adaptively respond to changing conditions in the first case, while in the latter instance the constraints of Magnuson-Stevens Act requirements limit the council’s flexibility. The second two examples highlight actions in which the council has specifically designed management tools to allow for adaptive management and plans for change.

Salmon Bycatch in the Bering Sea The Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands pollock fishery is the largest US fishery. Although the bycatch rate is low (e.g., 1.2% by weight in 2007), it represents substantial levels of fish mortality (Fig. 5.2.3a, b). In 2007, for example, bycatch mortality included 286.6 metric tons of halibut, 345 mt of herring, 4,700 crabs, 121,800 Chinook salmon, and 97,600 other salmon (Hiatt et al. 2009). Salmon are a prohibited species in the federal offshore fisheries, which means that they cannot be targeted, and when caught accidentally, they must be discarded or donated to a food bank—they cannot be sold or retained. Nevertheless, both Chinook and non-Chinook salmon are caught as bycatch in large numbers in the eastern Bering Sea pollock trawl fishery.4 More than 700,000 non-Chinook salmon were caught in 2005, and more than 120,000 Chinook salmon were caught in 2007. Management actions to decrease the salmon bycatch in the Bering Sea pollock trawl fishery began in the early 1980s with imposition of an overall cap of 55,250 Chinook salmon (amendments 1a, 3, and 8 to the BSAI groundfish FMP). The overall cap was apportioned to each nation licensed to operate in the foreigndirected and joint-venture trawl fisheries and prohibited those nations from fishing in the region once they exceeded their cap. Because the cap did not apply to vessels fishing in the domestic fishery, there was a need for new management measures

314â•… north by 2020: perspectives on alaska’s changing social-ecological systems a.

b.

Figure 5.2.3. Bycatches of (a) Chinook salmon and (b) non-Chinook salmon in Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands pollock fisheries. (Data for 1977–1990 are from Queirolo et al. [1995]; data for 1991–2009 are from www.fakr.noaa.gov/sustainablefisheries/inseason/.)

when the foreign and joint-venture fisheries were displaced by domestic fisheries in the late 1980s. The North Pacific Fishery Management Council replaced the annual bycatch cap with a system of time and area closures. In 1995, following a period of increased bycatches, the Bering Sea groundfish FMP was amended (amendment 21b) to create the Chum Salmon Savings Area and the Chinook Salmon Savings Area. These broad areas in the Bering Sea were annually closed to pollock fishing when a threshold bycatch level was reached. The identification of the areas was based on specific regions where historical bycatch levels had been highest. The Chinook Salmon Savings Area was modified in 1998 (amendment 58) to change the area closure configuration and establish a lower bycatch limit with seasonal timing. These closures may have been effective during their initial implementation, but bycatch began to increase beginning around 2003 (Fig. 5.2.3a). Moreover, when the savings area closures were triggered, the fleet often encountered even higher bycatch rates in areas immediately outside of the closures. Concerned about the increasing bycatch rates, the pollock fleet began using their cooperative structure established under the American Fisheries Act (described in the section below) to establish a voluntary rolling hot spot program, which was designed to reduce bycatch and avoid triggering the area closures. In 2005, there were indications that Chinook bycatch was indeed higher outside of the triggered closure areas and evidence that the fleet’s voluntary rolling hot spot program was more precise than the regulatory saving area closure mechanism. As a result, the BSAI groundfish FMP was again amended (amendment 84). This time, the portion of the pollock fleet participating in the voluntary rolling hot spot program was exempted from the salmon savings areas. This measure was intended to be an interim step while the council considered more comprehensive solutions for reducing salmon bycatch.

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In 2007, following the historic high in Chinook bycatch noted above, the council began exploring different options for bycatch management. It recognized that static time/area closures may not be the most appropriate means of reducing bycatch, particularly in light of shifting oceanographic conditions and variability in the bycatch of salmon by the fleet; there was need for a more resilient management strategy. The council also recognized that while the voluntary rolling hot spot program conferred the flexibility that regulatory closures could not, it failed to prevent the high amount of Chinook bycatch that occurred in 2007. After an extensive analysis, resulting in an environmental impact statement, the council eventually selected a unique blending of regulatory measures and fleet flexibility for managing Chinook salmon bycatch. The council’s program, to be implemented in 2011 by amendment 91 to the BSAI groundfish FMP, establishes transferable hard caps,5 allocated by season and by sector (and cooperative for the inshore fleet). The unique aspect to this program, however, is that allowance is made (by virtue of a higher cap limit) to encourage industry to participate in Incentive Program Agreements. Under the Incentive Program Agreements, bycatch reduction programs are developed and internally monitored by the fleet and designed to provide incentives for vessels to minimize bycatch levels. The use of the Incentive Program Agreement structure was specifically intended to encourage the fleet to reduce bycatch below the level of the selected cap, rather than a cap-only system in which careless fishers could exceed their share of the cap and cause fishing to be shut down for other fishers who had not yet exceeded their caps or completed their pollock quotas. This type of externality typically precipitates a derby-style fishery that dissipates value that could otherwise be obtained from the target catch. The new Chinook bycatch management program under amendment 91 to the BSAI FMP was implemented in 2011. It may take several years of operation under the new program to determine if the goals of bycatch reduction and fleet flexibility were conferred by this new management system, or if additional bycatch reduction measures will be necessary in the future. Additional measures are under development for chum salmon bycatch management in the Bering Sea and Chinook salmon bycatch management in the Gulf of Alaska, with council action scheduled for June 2011.

Status Determination Criteria and Rebuilding Plans The Magnuson-Stevens Act national standard 1 states that “Conservation and management measures shall prevent overfishing while achieving, on a continuing basis, the OY from each fishery for the U.S. fishing industry.” The specification of optimum yield and the conservation and management measures to achieve it must explicitly prevent overfishing. The National Marine Fisheries Service has published

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comprehensive guidance (50 CFR part 600) for the development of FMPs and FMP amendments that comply with the Magnuson-Stevens Act national standards. If a stock is declared overfished, a rebuilding plan must be developed that specifies conservation and management measures to end overfishing and rebuild the stock within ten years. Since 1998, four crab stocks in the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands have been declared overfished, and rebuilding plans have been implemented for them. Three of the stocks were the target of directed fishing efforts (eastern Bering Sea snow crab, eastern Bering Sea Tanner crab, and St. Matthew blue king crab), but the fourth stock, the Pribilof Islands blue king crab stock, has not had a directed fishery since 1999. Furthermore, prior to the overfished declaration, directed fishing for Pribilof Islands red king crab was prohibited to prevent bycatch of Pribilof Islands blue king crab, and the area surrounding the Pribilof Islands was closed to all bottom trawling to protect vulnerable blue king crab habitat. A rebuilding plan was implemented in 2003, which simply continued the directed fishery closures until such a time as the stock was completely rebuilt. There has, however, been no sign of recovery for this stock. While several years remain in the rebuilding time frame, a revised rebuilding plan is being considered that would close additional areas surrounding the Pribilof Islands (which may potentially be important crab habitat and/or areas of crab bycatch). Despite these proposed measures, however, the stock may remain at historically low levels. It is likely that environmental regime shifts, and not fishing pressure, are the driving cause of the Pribilof Islands blue king crab’s decline and failure to rebuild. The current assessment of optimum biomass for this stock is based on a time frame during which oceanographic conditions may have been more favorable to this stock than they are under the current environmental regime. Despite this indication, regulatory requirements are inflexible in requiring the preparation of a new rebuilding plan. Optimum biomass could be re-specified to limit the time frame to only include current conditions, but this would lead to a determination that the stock is now “rebuilt” when in fact its stock status remains exactly the same, at low levels and with limited signs of recruitment. Moreover, it is unclear which oceanographic conditions are favorable to Pribilof Islands blue king crab and the probability that those conditions will reoccur is unknown. Thus, in principle the resource governance regime for these stocks is resilient, but in practice it is not.

Northern Bering Sea Research Area The Northern Bering Sea Research Area was implemented in 2008 and is currently closed to groundfish fishing with nonpelagic trawl gear. The Northern Bering Sea

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Research Area includes 54,858 square nautical miles in the northernmost portions of the eastern Bering Sea. The northern boundary is along a line between Cape Prince of Wales toward Cape Dezhnev to the 1990 US–Russia maritime boundary line, south to the southern end of St. Matthew Island, to and around the southern portion of Nunivak Island, and across Kuskokwim Bay, to Cape Newenham. The areas around St. Lawrence Island, St. Matthew Island, Nunivak Island, and Etolin Strait are not part of the NBSRA but are closed to nonpelagic trawling under other provisions of the BSAI groundfish FMP. The Northern Bering Sea Research Area was created because of concern that climate-induced shifts in the geographic distribution of commercially harvested fish species could lead to substantial increases in fishing effort in an area that is poorly known and has, until now, had relatively little fishing. To plan for orderly expansion of sustainable fishing into this area, the council banned nonpelagic trawling until after completion of research to characterize benthic ecology and the likely impact of nonpelagic trawling on crab, marine mammals, spectacled eiders, and other endangered species, and the subsistence needs of western Alaska communities. In creating the Northern Bering Sea Research Area, the council has the luxury of time. There are some indications that target groundfish, especially flatfish, in the Bering Sea are shifting their distribution northward, but currently the industry has exerted no pressure to begin exploratory fishing operations in this area. Therefore, the council and the Alaska Fisheries Science Center are able to develop a deliberative process for designing an appropriate research plan that involves both industry and community stakeholders. Although the council has employed a static area closure as an interim step to prevent unintended consequences from excessive fishing in this area, having the time to develop a research plan and appropriate measures to allow exploratory fishing under the research plan will create the flexibility needed to adapt to changing climate effects on fish populations. That is, faced with climate-induced changes in the distribution of commercially important fish species, the council acted to preempt an expansion of active bottom-contact fishing gear into the Northern Bering Sea region until the resilience of the ecological system is better known. In this instance, the council selected a resilient governance regime that lends itself to amendment as the ecological system and stakeholder preferences become better known.

Aleutian Islands Fishery Ecosystem Plan The North Pacific Fishery Management Council developed the Aleutian Islands Fishery Ecosystem Plan in 2007 to improve understanding of important relationships among ecosystem components, to identify areas of uncertainty and associated

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risks, and to emphasize the ecosystem context within which fisheries are managed. The Aleutian Islands Fishery Ecosystem Plan encompasses the US EEZ from Samalga Pass (169°W) to the western boundary of the EEZ (170°E) and considers both federal and state fisheries even though the fisheries themselves are managed under groundfish and crab FMPs. The Aleutian Islands ecosystem is complex and is the least predictable of the ecosystems managed by the North Pacific Fishery Management Council. The Fishery Ecosystem Plan identifies key ecosystem interactions, the status of which can be tracked by indicators. The interactions include climate and physical factors, predator–prey relationships, fishing effects, regulatory constraints, and socioeconomic (both fishing and non-fishing) activities occurring in the region. Considerations highlighted in the plan are intended to influence management actions and amendments to the corresponding FMPs. Through an understanding of this ecological context, the council is better positioned to respond proactively to changing conditions in the region.

Fisheries of Alaska: History and Current Status Throughout most of their history, fisheries off Alaska have primarily supported food and trade needs of Alaska’s Native population. These subsistence fisheries relied on a wide variety of fish, invertebrates, marine mammals, seabirds, and algae, but with a particular focus on salmon, herring, hooligan, and halibut. The first commercial fisheries off Alaska began in the late 1800s with salt-cod fisheries in the Gulf of Alaska and Aleutian Islands, halibut fisheries in the Gulf of Alaska, and cannery-based salmon fisheries near the mouth of every major spawning stream from southeastern to western Alaska. Although ostensibly subject to oversight by the territorial government, the canneries had free rein to manage salmon harvests in their own self-interest. In contrast, the halibut fishery was largely a distant-water venture based out of Seattle and subject to an overall quota management structure stipulated in the Halibut Convention of 1923. The groundfish fisheries began to develop after World War II as distant-water fleets from Japan, Russia, Korea, and Eastern Europe exhausted fishery resources adjacent to their own coasts and began to search farther afield. From the 1950s through the mid-1970s, these fleets engaged in a free-for-all that hammered Eastern Bering Sea stocks of Pacific perch, halibut, herring, sablefish, pollock, and various flatfish species. As discussed above, these fisheries were brought under federal authority in 1976 with passage of the Magnuson-Stevens Act.

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Commercial Fisheries Catches and Value In tonnage, catches from the marine fisheries off Alaska consist primarily of pollock, cod, flatfish (yellowfin sole, Greenland turbot, rock sole, arrowtooth flounder), salmon, and crab (king, Tanner, snow) (see Fig. 5.2.4a). While the halibut and salmon fisheries date back to the late nineteenth century, the groundfish fisheries did not begin until after World War II. The groundfish fisheries of the Gulf of Alaska are large in comparison to fisheries in other parts of the United States, but they are dwarfed by catches taken from the Bering Sea (Fig. 5.2.4b). Although the total value (Fig. 5.2.5) of commercial landings of fish from the marine waters off Alaska is related to the tonnage landed, the value also depends directly on the quantities of competing seafood products from other regions and indirectly on the timing and pace of the fishery. All of these factors are influenced by the nature of governance regimes used to manage the fishery. Although salmon catches have remained nearly constant since the mid-1980s, competition from farmed salmon and continued reliance on a governance regime that incentivizes the adoption of high-cost harvest technologies have driven prices, revenues, and profits to about 20% of their peak values. Halibut catches have also remained nearly constant over the past twenty-five years, but in contrast to salmon, the value of halibut catches increased substantially in the mid-1990s following conversion from an open access fishery governance regime to an Individual Fishing Quota (IFQ) regime. The IFQ system created opportunity to extend the harvest season, improve product quality, and develop new markets willing to pay higher prices. Two major changes in groundfish fisheries governance have led to large increases in revenues. The first change was the shift from joint-venture production

a.

b.

Figure 5.2.4. (a) Catches of groundfish, halibut, and salmon from the EEZ off Alaska by species complex; (b) Catches of groundfish from the EEZ off Alaska by FMP region.

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Figure 5.2.5. Exvessel revenues for principal fisheries off Alaska.

in the mid- to late 1980s to fully domestic production beginning in the 1990s. The second governance transition began in the late 1990s with moratoria on the addition of new vessels into the fishing fleet, and especially with passage of the American Fisheries Act, which created a legal opportunity for the pollock fishery to transition away from a race-for-fish governance regime. Following passage of the American Fisheries Act, the pace of the pollock fishery slowed, product quality improved, and production shifted from low-value high-throughput product forms to high-value low-throughput forms, greatly increasing revenues per fish. These changes are described in additional detail in the following sections.

Salmon Management Following statehood in 1959, Alaska banned the use of salmon traps and broke the power of the salmon canneries. One result was a rush of new entrants into the fishery, leading to congestion on the fishing grounds and making it difficult for fishery managers to maintain catch limits to ensure biologically sustainable management. To remedy these problems, the Alaska Legislature passed the License Limitation Act of 1972. The act created the Commercial Fisheries Entry Commission and directed it to limit the issuance of licenses in the salmon and herring and shellfish fisheries throughout the state. Limited entry capped the number of boats in each fishery and provided managers with the ability to constrain catch and improve escapements, but it failed to provide an effective limit on the escalation of fishing power and associated pathologies of the race for fish (Rettig and Ginter 1978) (See Fig. 5.2.6a.) Buoyed by strong prices caused by declines in salmon production in other regions along with strong runs brought about by improved biological management, exvessel revenues and the price of limited entry permits soared through the mid1980s. However, by the late 1990s, increasing volumes of salmon were produced in mariculture operations based in Norway, Chile, the United Kingdom, and Canada (Fig. 5.2.6b). The increased supply of farmed Atlantic salmon, coho salmon, and steelhead severely depressed the exvessel prices for Alaskan sockeye, coho, and

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b.

Figure 5.2.6. (a) Alaskan catches of high-value salmon (millions); (b) World production of high-value Alaskan catches, rest-of-world (ROW) catches, Chilean aquaculture, Norwegian aquaculture, UK aquaculture, Canadian aquaculture, and ROW aquaculture..

Chinook salmon (Asche et al. 1999; Herrmann 1993; Knapp et al. 2007; Williams et al. 2009). The collapse of exvessel prices created social and economic turmoil in salmon fishing communities because it reduced annual revenues to about one-fifth their peak level and at the same time reduced the asset value of limited entry permits to well below their outstanding loan value, bankrupting many salmon fishers (Greenberg et al. 2004; Herrmann et al. 2004). These effects were particularly pronounced in rural communities that went from controlling 50% of the limited entry permits in the late 1970s to controlling only 44% by 2005. That is, while limited entry increased the resilience of ecological and governance systems, it decreased the resilience of social and economic systems.

Halibut Management Under fishing limits adopted following implementation of the Halibut Convention in the 1930s, halibut abundance and catches steadily increased through the 1950s before declining in the 1960s and early 1970s. The decline was largely a consequence of the adverse effects of foreign catches outside the 12-mile limits of US and Canadian territorial waters (Fig. 5.2.7a). Once the United States and Canada established exclusive management authority within their respective EEZs, the halibut stock was rebuilt and catches again increased. However, the number of fishing vessels also increased and the season length collapsed from more than one hundred days to as little as two days (Fig. 5.2.7b). This heated race for fish reduced quality and suppressed market development, prevented rationalization of capital investments, decreased safety, and increased the likelihood that catch limits would be exceeded (NRC 1999). Concern that the race for fish reduced the resiliency of ecological, resource governance, and social-economic systems, the North Pacific Fishery Management

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Council adopted an IFQ program in 1991. It was approved by the secretary of commerce in 1993 and implemented in 1995. Under IFQs, the fishery has reorganized to deliver high-quality fresh product throughout a protracted season. Safety at sea has improved, the number of active fishing vessels has been halved, ghostfishing and bycatch losses have been reduced, and exvessel prices have increased (Herrmann and Criddle 2006; NRC 1999). However, the halibut IFQ program has not been without controversy. As noted by Carothers (Chapter 5.5, this volume), concern has been raised that some quota share recipients who were residents of small rural communities sold out of the fishery without considering adverse direct and indirect impacts on those communities. The percentage of halibut quota shares held by rural Alaskans increased from 14.6% in 1995 to 22.1% in 2006, but the growth has been concentrated in larger rural communities and masks declines in some of the smallest communities. The effect of IFQs on the distribution of value between harvesting and processing sectors has also been controversial. For example, Matulich and Clark (2003) estimated that the pre-IFQ halibut processors, already battered by declining salmon prices, lost market share and revenues as fishers bypassed traditional supply chains through contracts with niche processors and wholesalers. That is, some elements of this fishery became increasingly resilient under a market-based IFQ management strategy, while other historic participants lost due to market opportunities to cash in their halibut shares, and social resilience has been reduced for some fishers and their communities.

Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands Pollock Shortly after implementation of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, the North Pacific Fishery Management Council adopted a suite of FMPs (discussed above) that greatly enhanced the resilience of fishery management and governance systems in the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands and the Gulf of Alaska. However, as with the a.

b.

Figure 5.2.7. (a) Biomass and commercial landings of Pacific halibut (thousand mt); (b) Season length, International Pacific Halibut Commission management Area 3A.

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salmon and halibut fisheries, implementation of principles of biological sustainability did not lead to stabilization of fisher-dependent social and economic systems. In fact, vessel loan subsidies and preferential access to US-flagged vessels led to a rapid expansion of fishing effort. At first, this expansion was accommodated by displacement of foreign catcher boats. It was then accommodated by displacement of the joint-venture processors and motherships, but by 1991, excess capacity existed in harvesting and processing in both the inshore and offshore sectors. Excess capacity led to season compression and wasteful harvesting and processing practices. To stimulate development of the shore-based sector, the NPFMC created a set of sector allocations (amendment 18 to the BSAI groundfish FMP). In addition to allocating shares of the pollock total allowable catch to the two sectors, the NPFMC set aside an allocation of 7.5% of the pollock quota as a Community Development Quota (CDQ) to foster economic development of qualifying western Alaska communities (NRC 1998). The inshore–offshore battle was reprised in 1995 (amendment 38 to the BSAI groundfish FMP) and again in 1998 (amendment 51 to the BSAI groundfish FMP). But because the inshore–offshore amendments did not constrain burgeoning capacity or create a structure that would end the race for fish, seasons continued to compress and the fleet teetered on a financial brink. According to the At-sea Processors Association (1999) half of the BSAI catcher-processors underwent bankruptcy or forced sale of their vessel holdings in the four years from 1994 through 1998. Similar financial stress was present in the inshore sector. Because Congress had imposed a moratorium on the creation of IFQs, the NPFMC could not apply the governance structure used to successfully end the race for fish in the halibut and sablefish fisheries. Instead, representatives of the inshore and offshore sectors brokered a deal in Congress to set the sector allocations in statute. The result was the American Fisheries Act of 1998. The act created permanent sector allocations, placed a moratorium on the entry of new vessels, set parameters for the formation of cooperatives within sectors, provided funds to buy out nine of the twenty-nine then-active catcher-processors, and increased the quota share allocated to the CDQ program. All sectors quickly organized under civil contracts that created subsector allocations to each firm (Criddle and Macinko 2000). The American Fisheries Act has resulted in higher utilization rates (more pounds of finished product per pound of fish caught), a shift toward higher-value product forms, improved technical efficiency and capacity utilization (Felthoven 2002), increased economic returns, reduced bycatch, and improved management precision. It has also helped industry accommodate changes in fishing seasons and areas required to conserve Steller sea lions (NPFMC 2002). As with the halibut IFQ program, it has been shown that the American Fisheries Act increased the

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bargaining power of fishing boat owners relative to the processors to whom they deliver (Matulich et al. 2001). Thus the act increased the resilience of governance and economic systems, but a larger share of the economic gains associated with the increased resilience accrued to a subset of the stakeholders. The American Fisheries Act has created an imperative for devising analogous governance and management strategies for all other BSAI and GOA groundfish fisheries as a protection against the spillover of redundant capacity into adjacent fisheries. The act contained some sideboard restrictions to minimize this type of externality. Recent shifts in the center of abundance of pollock as well as the need to avoid salmon bycatch (see above) have forced the pollock fleet to fish at increased distances from port. When combined with high fuel prices, the need to fish at long distances from port caused the inshore sector to leave 10% of its 2007 B-season allocation unharvested. Thus, while the American Fisheries Act has increased the economic resilience of the pollock fishery, there are thresholds that, if exceeded, could trigger failure.

BSAI Crab Rationalization Although there was a limited foreign tangle-net fishery for crab in the 1950s, the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands crab fisheries took off in the 1960s as a domestic undertaking. As noted above, much of the management of BSAI crab fisheries has been deferred to the state of Alaska. Alaska fishery managers relied on size-sexseason management to control catches, but as fishing capacity increased, season length became increasingly compressed, and the race for fish was on. Season compression is particularly hazardous in the BSAI crab fisheries because the fisheries occur in the winter and under conditions where shifts in ice cover can force vessels to operate in close proximity to one another and fish under adverse conditions to prevent competitors from preempting their fishing areas. In an effort to control the growth of fishing capacity, managers introduced limits on the number of pots (baited traps) per vessel (Greenberg and Herrmann 1994; Herrmann et al. 1998). For minor crab stocks, managers introduced “super-exclusive” registration areas (Natcher et al. 1996), and vessels fishing for crab in these areas were forbidden from fishing for crab in other areas. The effect of super-exclusive registration was to create a fishery that would be attractive only to a local small-boat fleet. Soft prices occasioned by competition from large harvests of crab in the Russian EEZ, coupled with a cyclic downturn in the abundance of legal-sized male crab and the ongoing race for fish, led to financial distress that served as a stimulus to change to an IFQ management regime. In contrast to the halibut and pollock governance regimes, the BSAI crab rationalization program (NPFMC 2004) includes harvesting quota shares issued to fishing vessel owners and to skippers. It includes

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processing quota shares issued to shore-based and floating processors and allows communities to block the transfer of processing quota shares (NPFMC 2004). In the immediate aftermath of implementation of the BSAI crab IFQ program, the number of actively fishing boats collapsed by about one-half. Controversy continues to rage about the effect of this program on the number of crew positions and whether the decrease in seasonal positions was offset by increases in full-time positions. Like the halibut/sablefish IFQ program and the pollock American Fisheries Act program, crab rationalization increased overall resilience of resource governance and economic systems. However, the way that the benefits of rationalization were distributed among stakeholders contributed to the resilience of some communities and stakeholders but reduced resilience for others.

Discussion The consequences of climate change to fisheries off Alaska will depend on how the fish population responds to the change and how the management and governance system and social and economic systems accommodate change in fish population. Mueter et al. (Chapter 5.3) describe what is known about the response of BSAI fish stocks to anticipated climate variation. For most of these species, there is a range of variation that can be accommodated without collapse. For some species, this range of plasticity is wide; for others, it is narrow. Similarly, management and governance systems differ in their ability to accommodate external forcing. In general, the systems that incorporate features that harness individual self-interest through individual or collective ownership of catch shares are more resilient than traditional open-access or limited-entry programs. The resilience of social and economic systems is entwined with the resilience of management and governance systems as well as with the underlying ecological system. Experience with share-based management systems in Alaska’s fisheries suggests that the resilience of economic and social systems will vary across individuals and groups of stakeholders and that such systems may be more critically affected by the workings of larger economic and social forces.

References Asche, F., H. Bremnes, and C. Wessels. 1999. Product aggregation, market integration, and relationships between prices: Application to world salmon markets. American Journal of Agricultural Economics 81, 568–581.

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At-sea Processors Association (APA). 1999. Preliminary assessment of the Pollock Conservation Cooperative. Seattle, WA: At-sea Processors Association. Bader, H. 1998. Who has the legal right to fish? Constitutional and common law in Alaska fisheries management. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Sea Grant. Criddle, K. R., and S. Macinko. 2000. A requiem for the IFQ in US fisheries? Marine Policy 24, 461–469. Felthoven, R. 2002. Effects of the American Fisheries Act on capacity, utilization, and technical efficiency. Marine Resource Economics 17, 181–205. Greenberg, J. A., and M. Herrmann. 1994. Pot limits in the Bristol Bay red king crab fishery: An economic analysis. North American Journal of Fisheries Management 14, 307–317. Greenberg, J. A., M. Herrmann, C. Hammel, and H. Geier. 2004. The application of farm programs to commercial fisheries: The case of crop insurance for the Bristol Bay commercial salmon fisheries. Journal of Agribusiness 22(2), 175–194. Herrmann, M. 1993. Using an international econometric model to forecast Alaska salmon revenues. Marine Resource Economics 8, 249–271. Herrmann, M., and K. R. Criddle. 2006. An econometric market model for the Pacific halibut fishery. Marine Resource Economics 21, 129–158. Herrmann, M., J. A. Greenberg, and K. R. Criddle. 1998. Proposed pot limits for the Adak brown king crab fishery: A distinction between open access and common property. Alaska Fishery Research Bulletin 5, 25–38. Herrmann, M., J. A. Greenberg, C. Hamel, and H. Geier. 2004. Extending the federal crop insurance program to commercial fisheries: The case of Bristol Bay, Alaska salmon. North American Journal of Fisheries Management 24, 352–366. Hiatt, T., R. Felthoven, M. Dalton, B. Garber-Yonts, A. Haynie, D. Lew, J. Sepez, C. Seung, and Northern Economics. 2009. Stock assessment and fishery evaluation report for the groundfish fisheries of the Gulf of Alaska and Bering Sea/Aleutian Islands Area: Economic status of the groundfish fisheries off Alaska, 2008. Seattle, WA: NOAA Fisheries Alaska Fishery Science Center. Knapp, G., C. A. Roheim, and J. L. Anderson. 2007. The great salmon run: Competition between wild and farmed salmon. TRAFFIC North America. Washington DC: World Wildlife Fund. Macinko, S. 1993. Public or private?: United States commercial fisheries management and the public trust doctrine, reciprocal challenges. Natural Resources Journal 33, 919–955. Matulich, S. C., and M. Clark. 2003. North Pacific halibut and sablefish IFQ policy design: Quantifying the impacts on processors. Marine Resource Economics 18, 149–167. Matulich, S. C., M. Sever, and F. Inaba. 2001. Fisheries cooperatives as alternatives to ITQs: Implications of the American Fisheries Act. Marine Resource Economics 16, 1–16.

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McCay, B. J. 1998. Oyster wars and the public trust. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Natcher, W., J. A. Greenberg, and M. Herrmann. 1996. Economic evaluation of superexclusive designation for the summer Norton Sound red king crab fishery. In High latitude crabs: Biology, management, and economics. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Sea Grant. National Research Council (NRC). 1998. The Community Development Quota Program in Alaska and lessons for the western Pacific. Washington DC: National Academy Press. National Research Council (NRC). 1999. Sharing the fish: Toward a national policy on individual fishing quotas. Washington DC: National Academy Press. North Pacific Fishery Management Council (NPFMC). 2002. Impacts of the American Fisheries Act. Anchorage, AK: North Pacific Fishery Management Council. North Pacific Fishery Management Council (NPFMC). 2004. Bering Sea Aleutian Islands Crab Fisheries Final Environmental Impact Statement. Anchorage, AK: North Pacific Fishery Management Council. North Pacific Fishery Management Council (NPFMC). 2008. Bering Sea Chinook Salmon Bycatch Management Draft Environmental Impact Statement / Regulatory Impact Review / Initial Regulatory Flexibility Analysis for Amendment 91 to the Fishery Management Plan for Groundfish of the Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands Management Area. Anchorage, AK: North Pacific Fishery Management Council. Pew Oceans Commission. 2003. America’s living oceans: Charting a course for sea change. Arlington, Virginia: Pew Oceans Commission. Queirolo, L. E., L. W. Fritz, P. A. Livingston, M. R. Loefflad, D. A. Colpo, and Y. L. deReynier. 1995. Bycatch, utilization, and discards in the commercial groundfish fisheries of the Gulf of Alaska, Eastern Bering Sea and Aleutian Islands. US Department of Commerce, NOAA Tech. Memo. NMFS-AFSC-58. Rettig, R. B., and J. C. Ginter (eds.). 1978. Limited entry as a fishery management tool. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Simmons, R. T. 2007. Property and the public trust doctrine. PERC Policy Series PS-39, Bozeman, MT. Williams, A. H., M. Herrmann, and K. R. Criddle. 2009. The effects of Chilean salmon and trout aquaculture on markets for Alaskan sockeye salmon. North American Journal of Fisheries Management 29, 1777–1796. Witherell, D. (ed.). 2005. Managing our nation’s fisheries II: Focus on the future. Anchorage, AK: North Pacific Fishery Management Council.

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Endnotes 1

2 3 4

5

The 1988 agreement between the United States and USSR shifted the boundary westward from the convention line of 1867. The United States ratified the agreement in 1990, but the Russian Federation has yet to do so. Nevertheless, the Russian Federation is provisionally applying the maritime boundary agreement, and the US position is that the maritime boundary is in force. Dispute over the position of the US–Canada maritime boundary at Dixon Entrance is unresolved. Dispute over the position of the US–Canada maritime boundary in the Beaufort Sea is unresolved. For catch accounting purposes there are two categories of prohibited salmon species, Chinook and non-Chinook. The latter category includes four salmon species: chum, pink, sockeye, and silver. However, species composition from observer sampling of bycatch from pollock fisheries shows that on average over 99.8% of salmon caught under the non-Chinook category are chum salmon (NPFMC 2008). A “hard cap” indicates a bycatch limit that, when reached, results in a fishery closure for the remainder of the season or for the year, depending on the cap structure. This differs from a “trigger cap,” which by design triggers the closure of an area to fishing, while fishing may continue to occur outside of that area.

5.3

Climate Change Brings Uncertain Future for Subarctic Marine Ecosystems and Fisheries by franz j. mueter, elizabeth c. siddon, and george l. hunt jr.

H

uman-induced climate change resulting from increasing CO2 levels in the atmosphere is anticipated to be most pronounced at high latitudes and will affect both terrestrial and marine ecosystems (ACIA 2004; IPCC 2007). Projected changes include a continuing decrease in sea ice cover and thus reduced habitat for ice-associated marine mammals and birds, increased sea surface temperatures affecting marine fish and invertebrates, and changes in freshwater runoff (ACIA 2004). Scientists are increasingly asked to predict the possible effects of climate change on ecosystems and the organisms that inhabit them. Forecasting possible effects of increasing CO2 levels on the climate itself is based on state-of-the-art global climate models. Marine scientists use regional or global ocean circulation models, coupled to these global climate models, to study and predict the physical properties of the oceans. Such coupled atmosphere–ocean models currently provide the principal basis for developing future scenarios of climate and ocean variability (IPCC 2007). Only relatively recently have such atmosphere–ocean models been linked to biological models for predicting changes in the biological properties of marine ecosystems that may result from climate change. Biological properties of interest include, for example, the abundance and growth rate of phytoplankton—small drifting plants that provide the basis for all other components of the marine food web (Fig. 5.3.1). These models typically include only the immediate consumers of phytoplankton (i.e., small and large zooplankton species) and are often termed nutrient-phytoplankton-zooplankton (NPZ) models. Few models currently

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include consumers at higher trophic levels,1 that is, those fish or other marine animals that graze on zooplankton or larger species. Such “end-to-end” models, linking coupled atmosphere–ocean and NPZ through higher trophic level models, are still in their infancy and do not yet provide reliable predictions of the effects of climate change on commercial fish and shellfish species. In this chapter we review some of the documented responses of marine ecosystems in general, and of commercially important fish populations off Alaska in particular, to the observed variability in climate over the last several decades. Knowing how climate and fish populations have varied in the past, coupled with a basic understanding of the functioning of marine ecosystems, allows us to draw some reasonable conclusions about how these systems may respond to future climate warming, which is projected to continue and accelerate over the coming decades (IPCC 2007). Here we focus on the eastern Bering Sea, an example of a subarctic ecosystem, because of its importance to Alaska’s commercial fisheries, its location at the interface between the Arctic and subarctic, and because it is the system with which we are most familiar. We present a brief characterization of this large and productive ecosystem, focusing on those features most relevant to understanding the impacts of climate variability. This is followed by a description of observed climate variability based on long-term temperature records. We then

Figure 5.3.1. Schematic food web of some key species of the eastern Bering Sea ecosystem.

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discuss climate-related changes in overall productivity, the responses of individual species and whole communities to past climate variability, and what these historical patterns may imply for possible biological responses to anticipated future warming.

The Importance of Ocean Temperatures Temperature is a key variable affecting marine organisms and ecosystems, as well as the fisheries and fishing communities that depend on them. Climate warming directly affects ocean temperatures and is therefore likely to affect commercial, recreational, and subsistence fisheries. In addition to being biologically relevant, temperatures are easy to measure and therefore scientists have access to longer time series of ocean temperatures than other oceanographic parameters. Changes in ocean temperature are important because most marine organisms have a limited range of temperatures in which they thrive and because these ranges differ among populations and species (Pörtner et al. 2001). How and why marine organisms are adapted to often narrow temperature ranges is less clear, but laboratory studies suggest that aerobic performance, that is, the supply of sufficient oxygen to vital tissues, drops sharply when temperatures are outside an organism’s thermal range (Pörtner 2002). This drop in oxygen supply reduces growth and movement and enhances the vulnerability of the organism to starvation and predation. Both field and modeling studies show that slower growing individuals, particularly at the larval and juvenile stages, experience lower survival than those that grow faster (Anderson 1988; Clarke 2003; Houde 1987). Through its effect on physiological rates, temperature also affects activity levels (e.g., feeding activity), the timing and rate of migrations, reproduction (e.g., egg production rates and spawning activity), and other behaviors (Brander 2010; Drinkwater et al. 2010; Ottersen et al. 2010). Ecological effects of temperature on marine ecosystems, such as changes in distribution, abundance, and species composition, are a consequence of these temperature effects on the physiology and behavior of individuals. Community-level consequences of increasing temperatures arise because different species have different temperature tolerances. These differences affect the relative distribution and abundance of populations in two important ways. First, populations that are tied to a specific location for part or all of their life due to limited mobility or because of specific habitat requirements for spawning, feeding, or shelter are likely to decrease when temperatures exceed their physiological optimum for extended periods. Populations or species with a higher temperature optimum will have a competitive advantage, resulting in a species turnover and change in community composition. This mechanism is believed to contribute to out-of-phase oscillations of anchovies and sardines in eastern boundary upwelling systems such

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as the Humboldt Current off South America or the California Current (Alheit and Bakun 2010). While sardines generally dominate in warmer regimes (Chavez and Messié 2009), suitable habitat and prey availability also influence shifts between sardine- or anchovy-dominated systems (Barange et al. 2009). Second, highly mobile species will migrate to stay within their preferred thermal range, provided that suitable habitat (including sufficient prey) is available elsewhere. However, movement may be restricted if specific life stages remain linked to a geographic location. Examples of large-scale changes in the distribution of pelagic species in response to temperature variability include Pacific hake (Merluccius productus) off the US west coast, where warmer El Niño conditions lead to changes in flow of the California Current and increased availability of feeding habitat (Agostini et al. 2008), and blue whiting (Micromesistius poutassou) in the northeast Atlantic, where spawning habitat increases during warmer regimes, potentially leading to increases in stock size, wider dispersion of eggs and larvae, and increased growth rates and survival (Hátún et al. 2009). To understand the effects of climate variability on marine communities, scientists use a combination of fieldwork, laboratory studies, analyses of historical data, and modeling studies. All of these approaches are employed in the Bering Ecosystem Study (BEST) and Bering Sea Integrated Ecosystem Research Program (BSIERP), a multiyear, multi-investigator integrated study of the Bering Sea (see http://bsierp.nprb.org) that was designed to improve our ability to forecast changes in the ecosystem in response to future climate variability. We discuss some of the findings from this and other studies to illustrate the effects of climate changes on Bering Sea fish communities and to construct some possible future scenarios. We caution that the direct responses of fish and other organisms to temperature changes are modulated by simultaneous changes in food availability and predation, which are much more difficult to predict. Moreover, anthropogenic climate change is associated not only with rising temperatures but also with ocean acidification and increased oxygen limitation (Pörtner 2008; Pörtner et al. 2005). The combined effects of these changes are likely to interact in unknown ways and enhance the sensitivity of marine organisms to environmental variability (Pörtner et al. 2005).

The Eastern Bering Sea: An Ice-Dominated Subarctic Ecosystem The eastern Bering Sea is characterized by a broad continental shelf (>500 kilometers) with an average depth of only about 70 meters, resembling a large flat plain covered with sandy and muddy substrates. These substrates harbor a rich community of bottom-dwelling fishes and invertebrates (Fig. 5.3.1). Waters enter

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the Bering Sea from the south through a number of passes in the Aleutian Islands, and circulation over the shelf is characterized by diffuse flows to the north, which eventually exit through the Bering Strait into the Arctic Ocean (Schumacher and Stabeno 1998). The southeastern shelf between the Alaska Peninsula and St. Matthew Island (Fig. 5.3.2) is where most of the commercial fishing fleets operate and is also the most studied region of the Bering Sea. From spring to early fall, persistent oceanographic fronts (regions of rapid changes in water mass characteristics) separate the shelf into three domains: the inner shelf domain (inside of the 50-meter depth contour), the middle domain (between 50 and 100 meters), and the outer domain (between 100 and 200 meters) (Iverson et al. 1979). During the summer, the inner domain is well mixed from top to bottom, while the middle shelf

Figure 5.3.2. Map of the eastern Bering Sea showing bathymetry and approximate minimum and maximum observed March ice extent.

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is a stratified system with a tidally mixed bottom layer and wind-mixed surface layer. The outer domain consists of mixed upper and lower layers separated by a zone of gradually increasing density. Climatically, the Bering Sea is a transition region between warm maritime air to the south (subarctic) and cold, dry arctic air masses to the north (Overland 1981). Variability in the Bering Sea is closely linked to the strength and position of two major weather systems that affect the path and intensity of storms across the Bering Sea: the Aleutian low and the Siberian high (ibid.). These systems have a major influence on the formation and distribution of ice, wind mixing, temperature conditions, and other oceanographic processes, which in turn affect all living components of the ecosystem. Winter temperatures and ice formation in the Bering Sea are particularly sensitive to the position of the Aleutian low and associated variations in storm tracks (Niebauer et al. 1999; Rodionov et al. 2007). If storms originating in the western North Pacific are steered into the Bering Sea (most often associated with a strong Aleutian low), southerly winds bring warm and moist maritime air poleward and increase temperatures in the Bering Sea (WyllieEcheverria and Wooster 1998). Conversely, if storms move eastward to the south of the Aleutians and continue northward over Alaska (most often associated with a weak Aleutian low and a high pressure system over Siberia), cold air moves southward over the Bering Sea between the two pressure systems and results in cool ocean temperatures and extensive sea ice cover (Rodionov et al. 2007). Winter ice cover is a dominant feature of the Bering Sea and is both a source and a consequence of extreme seasonal and interannual variability. The seasonal advance and retreat of sea ice averages about 1,700 kilometers, the largest range for any arctic or subarctic region (Minobe 2002; Walsh and Johnson 1979). Even small changes in wind speed and direction can have a large impact on the timing, extent, and duration of winter sea ice cover (Hunt and Stabeno 2002). Therefore, both the spatial extent of sea ice, which covers anywhere from 20% to 56% of the Bering Sea at its winter maximum (Niebauer et al. 1999), and the timing of ice retreat in spring vary considerably from year to year. This variability is particularly pronounced in the southeastern Bering Sea, whereas the northern and northeastern portions of the continental shelf are generally covered by sea ice during winter (Fig. 5.3.2). Summer water temperatures on the shelf are strongly influenced by ice conditions during the preceding winter. As ice forms in the northern Bering Sea, salts are extruded and the resulting cold, salty water sinks to the bottom to form a “cold pool” (often defined as waters below 2°C) beneath the sea ice. When this ice is blown southward by winter winds, it melts at its southern edge and the cold melt water is mixed to the bottom by winter and early spring storms, adding to the southern extent of the cold pool. This cold pool is one of the defining characteristics of

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the seafloor habitat and is closely related to the spatial distribution of fish stocks (Mueter and Litzow 2008; Wyllie-Echeverria 1996). Specifically, the extent of the cold pool defines the limit between arctic and subarctic fish communities, as many subarctic species cannot tolerate waters below about 2°C (Mueter and Litzow 2008).

Past Temperature Variability in the Southeastern Bering Sea Untangling past relationships between ocean temperatures and the responses of biological communities helps us to understand future responses under variable climate states, but it requires long time series of temperature measurements. Currently there are relatively few consistent, long-term measurements in the Bering Sea, and most monitoring programs are limited in time or space. For example, summer bottom trawl surveys conducted by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) National Marine Fisheries Service provide an annual snapshot of summer bottom temperatures over much of the southeastern shelf (Lauth 2010).2 A moored array of instruments at a single location on the middle shelf (56.9°N, 164.1°W) has provided almost continuous records of water temperature and salinity at various depths since the summer of 1995 (Stabeno et al. 2007). For a longer-term perspective, records of sea-surface temperature (SST) variability are obtained from historical at-sea observations using ships of opportunity, dedicated oceanographic surveys, data buoys, and satellite observations of SST. These and other data sources have been merged into a single dataset by NOAA scientists (Smith et al. 2008)and are used here to examine historical SST variability over the southeastern Bering Sea shelf. 3 The southeastern Bering Sea shelf shows high interannual temperature variability as well as prolonged periods with below-average or above-average temperatures (Fig. 5.3.3). Underlying this high variability is a long-term trend of increasing temperature at a rate of approximately 0.1°C per decade with the most pronounced increase occurring during summer months (F. Mueter, unpublished data, Fig. 5.3.3). Sea-surface temperatures were cool during the first decades of the century and from the 1950s through the early 1970s. A relatively warm period, with high interannual variability, occurred between 1925 and the mid- to late 1940s. Temperatures increased again after the well-known 1976/1977 climate shift, which was associated with pronounced changes in plankton communities as well as changes in fish and shellfish populations throughout much of the North Pacific (Hare and Mantua 2000). Temperatures were generally warm after the climate shift, and the highest summer temperatures in the data record were observed in 2002 through 2005. However, relatively cold temperatures followed the 1998/1999 La Niña event and

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Figure 5.3.3. (a) Monthly sea-surface temperature anomalies (averaged over the southeast Bering Sea shelf inshore of the shelf break extending to 61°N) by month and year from January 1900 to December 2009 based on NOAA’s extended reconstructed sea-surface temperature series (Smith et al. 2008). (b) Annual index of average temperature during late summer (July–September).

the most extensive ice cover and coldest water-column temperatures since the early 1970s have been documented in recent years, beginning in 2006 and continuing through at least the end of 2010. That said, while temperatures have generally been much lower recently, average SSTs over the shelf during late summer have stayed relatively high (Fig. 5.3.3).

Observed and Predicted Effects of Temperature Variability on Marine Ecosystems and Fisheries Climate change has physiological and behavioral effects on individual fish that are expressed at both the population and ecosystem level through changes in

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productivity and mortality, spatial distribution, population dynamics, and community structure (Graham and Harrod 2009). Here we focus on the population level and on the ecosystems that fishes depend on, as these are the most relevant units for fisheries management. From the perspective of fisheries-dependent communities and fisheries managers, a key question about the effects of future climate variability is: How will climate change affect the overall productivity of ecosystems and the productivity, abundance, and distribution of species we depend on?

Changes in Overall Productivity Climate change may affect fish and fisheries by changing the total production of phytoplankton (primary production). This is important to fisheries because fish harvests from a given ecosystem increase with increasing primary production (Chassot et al. 2007; Iverson 1990; Ware and Thomson 2005). Thus if primary production increases in a given region as a result of climate change, the biomass of fish that can be sustainably harvested would likely increase; lower harvests would be predicted if primary production decreased with changing temperatures. Satellite observations and theoretical considerations suggest that primary production will decrease at lower latitudes, but effects at higher latitudes are not well understood. As the surface layer warms and becomes less dense, the water column becomes more strongly stratified and the mixing of deep, nutrient-rich waters into the surface layer is expected to decrease, thus providing fewer nutrients to fuel production in nutrient-limited areas (Behrenfeld et al. 2006). However, production at higher latitudes is limited by light for much of the year and increased stratification may increase production by keeping phytoplankton in the well-lit surface layer. Although global model results are inconclusive for the Arctic and subarctic (Steinacher et al. 2009), a regional model for the Barents Sea—which, like the Bering Sea, is relatively shallow and seasonally ice-covered—suggests moderate increases in primary production in coming decades (Ellingsen et al. 2008). Annual primary production in the Barents Sea is closely linked to the position of the ice edge in spring and is substantially higher during warmer years with less ice and a higher inflow of warm Atlantic water (Wassmann et al. 2006). Direct field measurements of primary production are limited in time and space, but satellite-derived estimates for both the Barents Sea and the Bering Sea suggest that chlorophyll a concentrations (a measure of phytoplankton abundance) and estimated annual production are higher in warm years (Mueter et al. 2009). Warm years with less ice and an early ice retreat may have higher production due to a longer production season, which seems to be supported by a strong negative relationship between estimated annual primary production and the timing of ice retreat from the Bering Sea shelf (Mueter et al. 2009). However, productivity

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during summer (after the initial spring bloom) is expected to be lower when strong thermal stratification increases vertical stability, reducing water-column mixing and decreasing surface nutrient levels (Sambrotto et al. 2008; Stabeno et al. 2002). Supporting evidence indicates that high water-column stability during several of the recent warm years was associated with lower summer production (Strom and Fredrickson 2008). This has important consequences for small fish feeding in the upper water column (see below) and research is ongoing to shed light on the differences in phytoplankton and zooplankton production between warm and cold years in the Bering Sea and its consequences for fish, seabirds, and mammals (e.g., www.bsierp.org). Furthermore, even if overall productivity levels do not change, changes in the pathways and ultimate fate of production are expected (Walsh and McRoy 1986) and have been observed (Grebmeier et al. 2006). In the northern part of the Bering Sea and in the Arctic, as well as during cold years in the southeastern Bering Sea, zooplankton growth is limited by cold temperatures. Much of the primary production, particularly from ice-associated spring blooms, sinks to the seafloor where it fuels the benthic system, including crab and bottom-dwelling fishes (Fig. 5.3.4). Nevertheless, some larger species of zooplankton such as krill (Euphausiids) and large copepods require this early bloom and cool waters, and they thrive when there is an ice-associated spring bloom (Baier and Napp 2003). In contrast, during

Figure 5.3.4. Benthic and pelagic pathways of production in the eastern Bering Sea. The relative flow of energy entering each pathway changes with variations in sea-surface temperature at the time of the spring bloom.

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warm years on the southeastern shelf, the ice retreats early before there is sufficient light to support a phytoplankton bloom. Therefore, the bloom is delayed until solar heating stratifies the water column and triggers a phytoplankton bloom within the surface layer (Saitoh et al. 2002). Under these relatively warm conditions, small species of shelf zooplankton (e.g., small copepods) are able to take advantage of the developing phytoplankton bloom and rapidly increase in abundance, providing food for larval fishes (e.g., walleye pollock, Theragra chalcogramma, and Pacific cod, Gadus macrocephalus) and other predators feeding in the water column (Hunt and Stabeno 2002) (Fig. 5.3.4). Primary production in the Arctic is expected to increase under global warming as an earlier ice melt and a longer ice-free season will greatly extend the period when sufficient light is available for plankton to grow. However, predicting changes in primary production and subsequent ecosystem-level effects in subarctic regions is complicated by our poor understanding of the mechanisms that drive productivity. In particular, we lack understanding of the mechanisms that supply nutrients to these systems (Mueter et al. 2009) and the balance between nutrient limitation and light limitation. Moreover, the response in production of zooplankton, which act as a conduit of energy and materials from phytoplankton to fish, adds additional variability in how ecosystems will respond to changes in climate (Richardson 2008).

Shifts in Distribution A key consequence of a warming climate is the poleward shift in the distribution of species that have limited temperature ranges. Temperature-dependent shifts have been documented for a number of marine fish species in both the North Atlantic (Brander et al. 2003; Perry et al. 2005; Rose 2005) and North Pacific (Mueter and Litzow 2008). Here we briefly review some of the observed changes. Large pelagic fish stocks in the northeast Atlantic have been observed to change their distribution as the distribution of suitable pelagic habitat shifts. For example, both Atlantic mackerel (Scomber scombrus) and horse mackerel (Trachurus trachurus) migrated farther north into the Norwegian Sea during warm summers in the 1980s and 1990s (Iversen 2004; Skjoldal and Sætre 2004). Similarly, increased advection of warm waters into the Barents Sea provides a larger nursery area for juvenile Atlantic herring (Clupea harengus) and extends their distribution northward (Cushing 1982; Holst et al. 2004). Northward shifts in distribution of herring, capelin (Mallotus villosus), and Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) were also observed during earlier warm periods such as 1920–1940 (Brander 2010; Drinkwater 2006; Rose 2005). Changes in the distribution of forage species such as herring and capelin, which serve as important food for larger fish, have secondary effects on the entire fish community, as they will affect the degree of overlap with predators, particularly

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near the edges of their range. Temperature-related shifts in distribution have also been reported for copepods, the major zooplankton prey for many fish species, with some warm-water species expanding northward over 1,000 kilometers in the North Atlantic (Beaugrand et al. 2002). It is unclear whether the northward shift in the distribution of pelagic fish species is related to the observed shift in zooplankton, is a direct response to increasing temperatures, or reflects some other indirect mechanism. While pelagic species may simply follow shifts in water masses, distributional shifts in response to temperature changes have also been documented for groundfish in the northwest Atlantic (Murawski 1993), in the North Sea (Perry et al. 2005), and in the Bering Sea (Mueter and Litzow 2008). In the eastern Bering Sea, numerous subarctic groundfish species increased in abundance on the central portion of the shelf in response to recent warming (Mueter and Litzow 2008). Between the early 1980s and the early 2000s, the southern edge of the cold pool retreated northward by over 200 kilometers. This retreat was associated with a northward shift in the summer distribution of numerous fish and shellfish species,

Figure 5.3.5. Shifts in the center of distribution of forty-five demersal taxa on the eastern Bering Sea shelf from 1982 to 2006. Northward shifts are positive. The center of distribution is the average latitude over the survey area, weighted by catch-per-unit effort. For further details and a list of taxa see Mueter and Litzow (2008).

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averaging approximately 12 kilometers per decade (Fig. 5.3.5). This rate is remarkably similar to rates of northward displacement of groundfish reported for the northwest Atlantic (Murawski 1993) and for the North Sea (Perry et al. 2005). It is approximately twice the average rate of northward range extensions estimated for terrestrial species (Parmesan and Yohe 2003). While the northward shifts of groundfish in the Bering Sea were strongly related to temperature, they could not be explained by temperature alone and showed a nonlinear, accelerating trend over time (Mueter and Litzow 2008). Such nonlinear effects suggest a reorganization of the fish community in response to a shift in average temperature, providing a serious challenge to understanding and predicting the effects of warming on fish communities. This difficulty is highlighted by the lack of a strong response in the distribution of most taxa to the return of cool conditions on the shelf after 2006 (F. Mueter, unpublished data). While there was some displacement to the south in 2006–2009, relative to the very warm years of 2001–2005, this southward displacement was less than would be expected based on average bottom temperatures alone. However, some species do quickly respond to interannual changes in temperature. For example, walleye pollock (a “semipelagic” species living on the bottom as well as in the water column) are distributed along the shelf edge away from the cold pool during cold years but spread out over much of the shelf during warm years (Ianelli et al. 2009). The boundary between arctic and subarctic conditions in the eastern Bering Sea has always been fluid, but large areas of the shelf are likely to change from an arctic fish community to a subarctic fish community as the Bering Sea warms. Shifts in the relative distribution of different species on the southeastern Bering Sea shelf have already contributed to a reorganization of the groundfish community during recent warm years. In particular, subarctic species expanded their distribution to occupy large portions of the middle shelf that were formerly covered by the cold pool, increasing not only the overall abundance of fishes in this region but also species diversity and the average trophic level (Mueter and Litzow 2008). Trophic level increased because of decreasing abundances of arctic groundfish species, which are smaller and therefore feed on smaller prey, and increasing abundance of subarctic species, which tend to be larger and feed at a higher trophic level. These changes imply increasing top-down control of the ecosystem by predation from large groundfishes. Similar groundfish invasions may have led to collapses in crustacean stocks in the Gulf of Alaska in the late 1970s after a climate shift resulted in warming of near-shore waters (Albers and Anderson 1985; Litzow and Ciannelli 2007). Snow crab (Chionoecetes opilio, an arctic species) abundances in the Bering Sea could be similarly affected by groundfish colonization of the area that is typically occupied by a cold pool during cool years (Orensanz et al. 2004; Zheng and Kruse 2006).

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In spite of an increasing dominance of the subarctic fish community on the southeastern Bering Sea shelf, a large-scale expansion of subarctic species into the northern Bering Sea or through the Bering Strait into the Arctic is unlikely in the coming decades. Cold, dark winters imply that the formation of seasonal sea ice and the associated cold pool on the shallow shelf north of St. Matthew Island (Fig. 5.3.2) will continue into the foreseeable future (P. Stabeno, NOAA-PMEL, Seattle, personal communication). Thus the northward expansion of subarctic groundfishes into this region will be limited as long as the cold pool continues to persist on the northern Bering Sea shelf. Nevertheless, earlier ice melt and warmer summer surface temperatures provide potential habitat for pelagic species such as walleye pollock and salmon, which have been observed as far north as the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas (Farley et al. 2009). These fish are not adapted to cold arctic winters and it is unclear whether they are able to overwinter in the Arctic or migrate long distances to overwinter in the Bering Sea or Gulf of Alaska (Irvine et al. 2009). A northward population shift of commercial species such as walleye pollock has direct consequences for the fishing fleet. For example, trawlers have to travel farther from the port of Dutch Harbor to find walleye pollock, requiring longer transit times and higher fuel costs (Karl et al. 2009). These adverse effects of climate change are not evenly distributed among vessels targeting Bering Sea pollock; some vessels have the ability to conduct seven- to ten-day fishing trips and to burn fish oil, a byproduct of processing fish, in their boilers and generators (Kruse 2007). On the other hand, smaller vessels that deliver to shore-side processors only have capacity for two- to four-day trips and cannot produce fish oil to burn onboard. Therefore, the northward shift of walleye pollock may have relatively small impacts on catcher-processor vessels, but may have significant adverse impacts on the smaller catcher vessel fleet. Clearly, fish populations on both sides of the North Atlantic and in the northeast Pacific have responded to temperature fluctuations with a northward shift in distribution during historical and recent warm periods. While the overwhelming evidence is for northward shifts in distribution as temperatures increase, the apparent distribution of some species has shifted to the south (Brander et al. 2003; Mueter and Litzow 2008). Predicting future shifts in distribution is complicated by large variability in the responses of individual species, by subsequent changes in the trophic interactions of marine food webs, and by apparent nonlinear responses to gradual changes in temperature. What we can predict with some certainty is that there will be winners and losers, with some species increasing and others decreasing in abundance. Regardless of who wins and who loses, changes in relative species composition are likely to be highly disruptive to the fishing industry and to fishing communities, even if total fish production or its economic value remains unchanged (Hamilton 2007).

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Changes in Productivity of Major Fish Populations Subarctic marine ecosystems are characterized by a few key species that are often of commercial importance and invoke attention across interest groups. The resilience of these populations to fishing and to changes in climate is determined by their productivity, that is, the rate at which they produce offspring and the rate at which these offspring survive to a harvestable size. Fisheries scientists refer to the number of fish or shellfish surviving to a harvestable size as “recruitment.” In many commercial species, recruitment varies interannually by an order of magnitude or more. Scientists have been on a quest to understand the causes of this recruitment variability, in particular the influence of climate variability on recruitment, for well over a century (Beamish and McFarlane 1989; Drinkwater et al. 2005; Hjort 1914). Although many relationships between climate and recruitment have been described, few provide reliable short-term recruitment predictions. Therefore, modern fisheries management simply acknowledges the large uncertainties in future recruitment and focuses on developing harvest strategies that are robust to such uncertainties. However, a critical assumption of these strategies has been that the long-term average productivity of the managed stocks remains constant. Under anticipated long-term directional trends in climate, this assumption is no longer tenable and there is renewed interest in the effects of climate variability on the productivity of fish stocks. The direct and indirect effects of climate change on reproductive success and on the survival of egg, larval, and juvenile stages clearly affect recruitment and therefore future abundances of fish stocks. Given the difference in thermal ranges among species, some populations will benefit from changing climate conditions while others will not. Conventional wisdom suggests that species at the northern end of their range will benefit from increased temperatures. Positive correlations between recruitment and temperature have indeed been documented for northern populations (Myers 1998), including many groundfish populations in the North Pacific (Hollowed et al. 2001; Hollowed and Wooster 1992). Similarly, many salmon populations in Alaska produce stronger year classes when juveniles encounter warm coastal sea surface temperatures during early marine life (Mueter et al. 2002). Notably, most of the above studies used a meta-analytical approach that considered evidence from a large number of populations simultaneously, thus indicating broad applicability of the results. Predictions at the individual species level are generally much more uncertain because many factors besides temperature affect growth and survival, particularly food availability and predation. Regardless of temperature, reduced food availability results in slow growth or even starvation, and enhanced predation will result in increased mortality. Enhanced predation can occur when an important predator

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increases in abundance or when alternative prey is less available. Both of these mechanisms have been invoked to explain fluctuations in the eastern Bering Sea population of walleye pollock, which has been the most abundant and commercially most important fish species in the eastern Bering Sea for at least three decades. A brief examination of our current understanding of pollock dynamics can serve to illustrate the complexities of fish population responses in a variable environment and the difficulties of predicting the response of such populations to future climate variability.

Case Study: Eastern Bering Sea Walleye Pollock The Bering Sea ecosystem, which responds to atmospheric anomalies on relatively short timescales (Napp and Hunt 2001), experiences multiyear periods of warm and cool conditions within longer-term phases of the Pacific Decadal Oscillation and the Arctic Oscillation (Macklin et al. 2002). The Oscillating Control Hypothesis (Hunt et al. 2002; Fig. 5.3.6) provides a theoretical framework within which to

Figure 5.3.6. Schematic illustration of the relationship between the timing of sea ice retreat in the spring, the timing of the spring bloom, and zooplankton growth. Top: When the ice retreats in late winter, there is insufficient light to support a bloom, and the bloom is delayed until late spring when solar heating has stratified the water column sufficiently to prevent algal cells from sinking. Growth of small copepods is favored. Bottom: When the ice retreat comes later in the spring, then there is sufficient light to support an ice-associated bloom. This bloom can start under the ice or at the ice edge in ice-melt-stabilized water. Growth of large copepods is favored. Modified from Hunt et al. (2002).

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predict ecosystem responses, and the response of walleye pollock, to such “warm” and “cold” regimes (several consecutive years of similar temperature conditions). During a cold regime, the recruitment of walleye pollock is highly variable but is lower on average, all else being equal (Mueter et al. 2006). Increased sea ice extent and a delay in the ice retreat lead to an ice-associated phytoplankton bloom in relatively cold waters. Cold temperatures delay zooplankton growth, and thus much of the primary production sinks unused to the bottom. Therefore, recently hatched fish larvae that feed in the surface layer, including walleye pollock, may not find sufficient small prey during cold years and fewer pollock larvae survive through their first summer (Moss et al. 2009). However, the surviving larvae need less food in cold water due to lower metabolic demands and may encounter larger prey (Fig. 5.3.6). Thus excess energy from any available prey can be stored as lipids. This stored energy provides larvae with a buffer against starvation as they go into their first winter (R. Heintz, NOAA/AFSC, Juneau, unpublished data), a critical period that is thought to greatly influence year-class-strength for pollock. Cold conditions have a different effect on one-year-old juveniles, which are restricted in their distribution to the outer shelf domain by an extensive cold pool, increasing their overlap with adult pollock (Wyllie-Echeverria and Wooster 1998). Increased spatial overlap is associated with increased predation by cannibalistic adults and decreased survival of juvenile pollock (Mueter et al. 2006). In contrast, the distribution of larvae is less affected by the cold pool because larvae drift passively in the surface layer. Clearly, cold conditions have different effects on early larvae, late larvae, and juveniles, but on balance recruitment tends to be lower during cold conditions. In addition, any bottom-up effects of cold conditions are modified by the abundance of cannibalistic adults, which tend to be high at the beginning of a cold regime, further contributing to poor survival and recruitment. In a warm regime, the ice retreats early while late winter storms mix the phytoplankton deep into the water column where it is too dark for phytoplankton to grow. Thus the spring bloom is delayed until solar heating stratifies the water column later in the season. In warm water, the developing spring bloom is largely consumed within the upper water column by zooplankton, which in turn provide food for pelagic predators. Thus more of the production is cycled within the pelagic system to the benefit of larval and juvenile pollock and other pelagic fishes (Hunt and Stabeno 2002). However, with warmer water comes an increased metabolic demand. If enough food is available, this demand is met by increased consumption, resulting in higher growth rates. Faster growth can be both beneficial as larvae outgrow vulnerability to predators (Houde 1987) and detrimental as larvae exhaust their own food supply. Additionally, in warmer water, juvenile and adult pollock spread across the Bering Sea shelf (inner to outer domains), and therefore larvae may be less subject to cannibalism (Wyllie-Echeverria and Wooster 1998).

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However, multiple consecutive warm years, with strong year classes of recruiting pollock, begin to exert top-down control of larvae through cannibalism, eventually reducing survival and recruitment (Hunt et al. 2002). Until recently, the predominant view was that warm conditions on balance had a positive effect on the survival and recruitment of walleye pollock. However, the occurrence of four unusually warm years (2002–2005) with below-average yearclass strength of walleye pollock led to concerns over declining pollock abundances and prompted a new look at what drives recruitment of walleye pollock in the eastern Bering Sea. The new emerging view suggests that temperatures during the recent warm years may have exceeded a threshold beyond which warmer temperatures no longer imply better survival of walleye pollock during the larval and juvenile stages (Fig. 5.3.7). The mechanisms that caused poor survival during the unusually warm years are not fully understood but are likely related to poor prey availability. Larval pollock can benefit from warmer temperatures only if enough suitable food for successful growth and survival is available. While small zooplankton were abundant during the warm summers of 2002–2005, the large copepod Calanus marshallae and the shelf euphausiid Thysanoessa raschii were scarce on the shelf, which may have resulted in poor feeding conditions for walleye pollock larvae in summer (Coyle et al. 2008; Hunt et al. 2008). Young walleye pollock, while abundant, consumed primarily small zooplankton species and had poor body condition with an energy content that was unlikely to be sufficient for overwinter survival (Moss et al. 2009; R. Heintz, unpublished data). In contrast, in the cold years of 1999 and 2006–2009, the large copepod species C. marshallae and the euphausiid T. raschii were abundant during summer. Young walleye pollock, although not as abundant as in the warmer years, were in good condition with high energy density. Additionally, in the cold years, predators may have focused on the large copepods and euphausiids, thus consuming fewer larval pollock. Early indications suggest that at least the 2006 year class will be a strong year class and is likely to increase pollock biomass, and hence catch quotas, in the coming years (Ianelli et al. 2009). Our current understanding is that late summer conditions during unusually warm years on the eastern Bering Sea shelf result in a zooplankton assemblage of largely small species that provide poor prey for young walleye pollock. The expectation is that such warm periods will become more frequent under continued warming (N. Bond, NOAA/PMEL, Seattle, personal communication), suggesting that average recruitment of walleye pollock may decrease in the future. However, while the future biomass of pollock is primarily determined by the strength of incoming year classes (i.e., recruitment), growth conditions for older, post-recruitment pollock also contribute to variability in biomass. In contrast to poor growth conditions for young pollock, warmer summers may benefit older pollock. For example, trends in size-at-age and weight-at-length for walleye pollock and other groundfish in

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Figure 5.3.7. Survival anomalies of walleye pollock in relation to late summer sea-surface temperatures during the early juvenile stage. Survival anomalies are in the number of recruits that are produced per unit of female spawning biomass. Lines indicate, at each temperature, the estimated average survival (solid line) and the lower and upper 95% confidence intervals for average survival (dashed lines).

the eastern Bering Sea over a period that spans both the recent warm and cold periods show that both size and weight tended to be above the long-term mean in warmer years, and below the mean in cold years (Fig. 5.3.8). Moreover, net primary production at the base of the food chain was higher in warm years, as were surface chlorophyll a values, although phytoplankton cells and zooplankton were generally smaller, suggesting changes in the pathways of energy from lower to higher trophic levels. It remains to be seen whether the transfer of energy to higher trophic levels,

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including fish, is more or less efficient under warm conditions. Nevertheless, these findings suggest that the Bering Sea should be particularly productive in future warm periods, and post-recruitment fish may enjoy higher growth rates. Thus improved growth of older pollock may at least partially compensate for reduced recruitment. The above example illustrates the complexities of predicting the responses of individual species, let alone entire communities, to future climate changes. Despite the complex mechanisms, we suggest that reasonable predictions about the response of walleye pollock to future climate variability can be based on simple observed relationships such as that between pollock survival and water temperature (Fig. 5.3.7). The dome-shaped relationship is consistent with earlier studies that showed higher survival of pollock recruitment during warm years (Hollowed et al. 2001; Hunt and Stabeno 2002; Mueter et al. 2006), corresponding to the ascending part of the curve in Figure 5.3.7, as well as with the more recent findings that survival is low when average summer surface temperatures exceed 9–9.5°C. Under the BEST/BSIERP research program, we will be using such simple relationships, combined with temperature projections from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) climate scenarios, to forecast pollock recruitment for the coming decades. These forecasts will complement predictions from an “end-to-

Figure 5.3.8. Temperature effects on growth of immature pollock: Effect of local temperatures at sampling location on average pollock condition index (anomaly in the weight of fish at 250-mm length) with 95% confidence band (left) and scatterplot of annual average condition index of pollock on the eastern Bering Sea shelf against annual average water temperature (dots, 1998–2008) with fitted regression line.

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end” ecosystem model of the eastern Bering Sea that is currently being developed as part of BEST/BSIERP.

Summary, Conclusions, and Recommendations We highlighted two important ecological consequences of changing water temperatures on the Bering Sea, an ice-dominated subarctic marine ecosystem: (1) changes in the relative abundance of different species resulting from differential shifts in the distribution of component species, and (2) changes in abundance of individual species resulting from increases or decreases in average survival and subsequent recruitment. To examine possible effects on recruitment, we chose to examine walleye pollock, one of the commercially most important species worldwide, as a case study. We found that distributional changes under continued warming of the Bering Sea are likely to profoundly alter the biogeography of large portions of the eastern Bering Sea shelf as subarctic species expand into warmer and more favorable habitat. This reorganization of the fish community will affect species differently. Some, such as snow crab, are likely to decline, while others, such as many flatfish, may expand their distribution and increase in abundance. These changes will likely be confined to the southeastern Bering Sea shelf because the cold pool will continue to form on the northern Bering Sea shelf in the foreseeable future, thereby limiting the expansion of subarctic groundfish species into the northern Bering Sea and Arctic Ocean. However, pelagic species may take advantage of a longer ice-free season and warmer surface temperatures to expand their summer feeding range into northern waters, including the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas. Changes in recruitment success and abundance are much more difficult to predict than changes in distribution. There is an expectation that many species at the northern end of their range, for example, Atlantic cod (Drinkwater 2005) and salmon (Mueter et al. 2002), may benefit from increasing temperatures. However, the walleye pollock example illustrates that such generalizations are far from certain. The response of an individual population is complicated by nonlinearities and thresholds in ecological relationships that provide serious challenges to predicting future responses of biological communities to climate change. Examining how populations and ecosystems responded to climate variability in the past provides the best basis we currently have for predicting future responses. Although observed correlations do not imply causation, they may nevertheless allow useful predictions. For example, the empirical relationship between temperature and pollock survival (Fig. 5.3.7) is a consequence of complex interactions among temperature conditions, developmental rates and growth of pollock, the availability of suitable prey,

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and the abundance and distribution of predators. All of these factors are directly or indirectly affected by temperature variability. Therefore, as long as the underlying relationships do not fundamentally change—that is, as long as the “rules of the game” remain the same—we can expect reduced survival of juvenile pollock during exceptionally warm years in the future. Some impacts of climate change on marine fish communities are predictable, such as the competitive disadvantage of cold-adapted arctic species as the subarctic–Arctic boundary shifts to the north. Other impacts, such as changes in complex food web interactions and their effects on specific species of interest, are difficult to predict even in simple systems. These difficulties greatly increase uncertainty about the fate of marine fish communities under a changing climate, beyond the large uncertainties in population dynamics that scientists and managers have long been accustomed to. Partly in response to these added uncertainties, federal fisheries managers in Alaska have taken several proactive measures to protect fisheries resources while still being able to adapt to changing conditions. These measures include closing the northern Bering Sea to bottom trawling until further research is conducted, establishing a “Northern Bering Sea Research Area,” and prohibiting commercial fishing in federally managed arctic waters until more information is available to support sustainable fisheries management (see Criddle et al., Chapter 5.2). In addition to these measures, new approaches to the management of commercial fisheries in the areas currently open to fishing are also needed. First, new multi-species approaches to management are needed because current single-species approaches are unable to deal with anticipated species turnover as formerly abundant species may dwindle and formerly minor species may increase in abundance. Such large-scale changes in the relative mix of species are possible and even likely as the climate continues to change. They are certainly not unprecedented, as is evident in the decline of crab and shrimp fisheries and the rise of pollock, cod, and flatfish fisheries after a pronounced climate shift in the late 1970s. Such shifts will always be disruptive, but the public, scientists, and managers could be better prepared by considering such dramatic, but realistic, future scenarios when determining and evaluating management strategies. The question of how hard to fish a stock that may inevitably decline, or when to stop fishing a stock to allow for the possibility of rebuilding, must be openly confronted in a multi-species context. Second, anticipated shifts in the distributions of populations under climate change require more attention to spatial management. Fixed spatial management areas that are designed to protect specific habitats and life stages (e.g., the Bristol Bay red king crab Paralithodes camtschaticus savings area [Witherell and Woodby 2005]) may need to be reevaluated in light of changes in distribution. Similarly, new spatial management measures may be needed where none existed previously.

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This is particularly true for species that are fished near the edge of their current distribution and where harvest rates may be disproportionately high. For example, the fishery for snow crab in the Bering Sea is concentrated in the southern portion of the snow crab distributional range, an area that may be disproportionately important for reproduction and successful future recruitment (Parada et al. 2010). This could exacerbate the “environmental ratchet effect” (Orensanz et al. 2004), which tends to reduce the abundance of snow crab near the southern end of their distribution. In short, our ability to forecast future changes in fish communities will remain limited. Therefore, it is essential to employ management strategies that work well under large variability in abundance, that can deal with possible turnovers in species dominance, and that have the flexibility to respond to unexpected events.

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Walsh, J. J., and C. P. McRoy. 1986. Ecosystem analysis in the southeastern Bering Sea. Continental Shelf Research 5, 259–288. Ware, D. M., and R. E. Thomson. 2005. Bottom-up ecosystem trophic dynamics determine fish production in the Northeast Pacific. Science 308(5726), 1280–1284. Wassmann, P., D. Slagstad, C. Wexels Riser, and M. Reigstad. 2006. Modelling the ecosystem dynamics of the Barents Sea including the marginal ice zone II. Carbon flux and interannual variability. Journal of Marine Systems 59(1–2), 1–24. Witherell, D., and D. Woodby. 2005. Application of Marine Protected Areas for sustainable production and marine biodiversity off Alaska. Marine Fisheries Review 67(1), 1–27. Wyllie-Echeverria, T. 1996. The relationship between the distribution of one-year-old walleye pollock, Theragra chalcogramma, and sea-ice characteristics. NOAA Technical Report NMFS. 126, pp. 47–56. Wyllie-Echeverria, T., and W. S. Wooster. 1998. Year-to-year variations in Bering Sea ice cover and some consequences for fish distributions. Fisheries Oceanography 7(2), 159–170. Zheng, J., and G. H. Kruse. 2006. Recruitment variation of eastern Bering Sea crabs: Climate forcing or top-down effects? Progress in Oceanography 68, 184–204.

Endnotes 1

2 3

Trophic level is the level of the food chain at which an organism feeds, starting at trophic level 1 for phytoplankton, trophic level 2 for immediate grazers of phytoplankton, trophic level 3 for predators of the grazers, etc. Trophic level 2.5 refers to a grazer/predator that feeds at trophic levels 1 and 2 in equal proportion. For an animated map of 1982–2009 bottom temperatures, see www.afsc.noaa.gov/ RACE/groundfish/images/ebs/btemps.gif. Here we use Extended Reconstructed SST version 3, which was provided by the NOAA/OAR/ESRL PSD, Boulder, Colorado, USA, from their website at www.esrl. noaa.gov/psd/.

5.4

Conservation of Marine Mammals in Alaska: The Value of Policy Histories for Understanding Contemporary Change by chanda meek

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lobal warming and the rapid loss of summer sea ice have affected arctic communities and ecosystems at an unprecedented rate, requiring adaptive and novel institutional responses (ACIA 2004). Social scientists and ecologists who study human– environmental interactions from a systems perspective recommend policy change to more closely track the ways humans and ecosystems interact as a coupled system, rather than to maintain the command and control method of “managing” resources. Such a reform of governing institutions would aim to monitor environmental change as well as human uses of the environment and transition toward an adaptive approach to governing rather than sustaining particular levels of harvests of particular resources in perpetuity (Chapin et al. 2009). However, complicating this suggested policy shift are two sets of findings from institutional theory suggesting that (1) policies can outlive the problems they have been designed to address and that (2) their persistence may complicate the development or implementation of new policy regimes. This chapter explores these propositions through the case of marine mammal management in the United States. Although such manageÂ�ment continues to operate under many assumptions of the old resource management paradigm, policies relating to marine mammal conservation come closer to embracing a systems perspective than those relating to many other categories of wildlife as they recognize the connection between marine mammals and Alaska Native livelihoods. As such, marine mammal conservation regimes lend

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themselves to an important and novel analysis of policy responses for human and ecological systems or, considered as a unit, social-ecological systems. At the present time, marine mammal conservation in Alaska is governed by overlapping rules: local rules developed by Alaska Native cultures and communities, regional rules developed by co-management boards, federal rules stemming from Congress and federal agencies, and international treaties. Achieving a level of compatibility among all levels is important to successful management outcomes (Anderies et al. 2004; Berkes 2002). Compatibility can be affected by the origins of policy choices and the way policies change through time. A growing number of authors have explored institutions for marine mammal management in Alaska (e.g., Fernandez-Gimenez et al. 2006; Huntington 1992; Langdon 1989; Meek et al. 2008; Robards and Joly 2008). Many of these accounts focus on contemporary dilemmas while placing the conflicts or cooperative success in a cultural or social context. However, none has taken a comprehensive look at institution-building for marine mammal management as a historical process of political development. This chapter examines marine mammal policy regimes for fur seals, bowhead whales, and polar bears to understand marine mammal conservation policy change and its relationship to contemporary dilemmas. Questions explored in this analysis include the following: How might concepts from the nineteenth century regarding subsistence shape current policy choices? How well do contemporary policies address contemporary management problems? What can policy histories tell us about meeting future challenges? Most wildlife management regimes in Alaska follow the familiar pattern of state colonial expansion of authority as in the rest of the country, albeit with a unique focus on subsistence. Marine mammals have been treated differently since the federal government preempted state law and established the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) to protect marine mammals as a class of wildlife. Alaska Natives were exempted from the MMPA general moratorium on take (§101(b)), as long as the species taken are not depleted and uses are not wasteful. In 1994, Congress amended the MMPA to, among other things, direct the secretary of the interior and the secretary of commerce, who share responsibility for marine mammal management, to enter into co-management agreements with Alaska Native organizations (§119). Hailed as a break with the past history of top-down management, co-management has created some positive momentum but has not proven to be a panacea for agencies and communities working together. In Alaska, the overlapping jurisdiction over wildlife management by the state, federal, and tribal authorities is an ongoing political conflict, characterized by competing sets of rules and uneven enforcement schemes. Despite periods of intense conflict, solutions are often brokered through memoranda of understanding, rather than hard law. At least that has been the case for the subsistence harvests of species

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with healthy populations. The take of depleted species (either declared depleted through the MMPA or listed under the Endangered Species Act) is regulated more closely. Federal strategies for monitoring the sustainability of harvests are a source of ongoing political contestation and negotiation with co-management boards, villages, hunters, and handicraft artisans. The take of listed and/or depleted marine mammals for subsistence is regulated under numerous policies across scales. For instance, the taking of bowhead whales is regulated under international, federal, Alaska Native, and local rules.1 Quotas are deliberated at the international level, designed and delivered through federal–Alaska Native processes, and enforced at the local level. The key challenge of marine mammal policy in Alaska is effective cross-scale governance, which is a fundamental element of indigenous–state relations, or what White (2002) calls “treaty federalism.” Institutional forms and functions can be more fully understood only when they are viewed in context of “a larger temporal framework that includes the sequences of events and processes that shaped their development” (Thelen 2003:231). Accordingly, co-management of marine mammals in Alaska can be more comprehensively understood as a mode of governance stemming from a long trajectory of institutional change. The following comparison of three marine mammal management regimes (fur seals, bowhead whales, and polar bears) draws on the methods of historical sociologist Haydu (1998) and policy researchers Howlett and Rayner (2006) to establish a historical narrative of marine mammal policy change. In particular, I explore how evolving institutions have shaped modern marine mammal governance and how this limits future policy options. Despite different social, political, and economic contexts, actors in each era of Alaska history tried to solve the classic problem of the commons: how to sustain resources through time. Common property theorists have illustrated that no one form of governance (government control, privatization, or commons) is superior for all resources (Dietz et al. 2003). Because Alaska ecosystems have been governed under many different regimes throughout time, the collective history of Alaska resource use can be approached as a rich policy experiment.

The Peopling of Alaska Alaska has been home to indigenous peoples for at least nine thousand years (Potter et al. 2011). As populations grew and migration continued across the Bering Strait, distinct and diverse Native nations developed in Alaska,2 organized around particular places and ways of life.Archaeological and oral historical evidence and the travel journals of maritime traders identify several drivers of

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human–marine mammal relationships. Settlement was based on resource availability and organized through indigenous institutions such as the establishment of territorial boundaries (Burch 1998) and thanksgiving ceremonies (e.g., FienupRiordan 1983; Lantis 1947) developed in relationship to resource use and other Native nations. These inter-national relations and indigenous institutions remain important to the story of marine mammal management in several ways—the first of which is the understanding of a shared destiny between people and animals.3 This understanding does not necessarily translate directly into a romantic notion of the “lay ecologist” (Caulfield 1997) but provides the basis for an enduring role for nations in the stewardship of animal species. Resources that people used to “make a living” in the pre-colonial era often established cultural identifiers and connections used in subsequent eras by colonial powers, Native nations, and their contemporary counterparts to delineate access to resources, recognize rights to harvest, and craft institutions regarding acceptable harvest practices (Meek 2009). These early institutions and the association of communities with particular species remain common threads in contemporary management plans (Meek 2009). The relationship of the bowhead whale with people continues to structure community life and cultural identity. Stewardship is built upon wisdom about socialecological dynamics often based on thousands of years of living, observing, and depending on those animals. Even for species such as sea otters or fur seals, whose exploitation has been tied to trade as long as people can remember, generations of living with these animals has produced local knowledge important in management decisions, successful exploitation, and relationships with people. These relationships between people and animals as well as the technologies people used to harvest them are often considered baseline conditions for management decision making. In fact, decisions in the present time usually reference these periods in law (e.g., the Marine Mammal Protection Act) or other rules. As discussed below, definitions, narratives, and dominant cultural ideas around “customary and traditional” draw from colonial visions of what life was like “before contact.” They remain powerful threads and ongoing conflicts in marine mammal management institutions (Huntington 1992; Robards and Joly 2008).

Institutional Development for Marine Mammal Conservation Alaska Native communities across the state have continuously used marine mammals since the beginning of their population of the coasts. While early ivory trade routes existed across the Bering Strait before Russian colonization, marine mammals were arguably used in a sustainable fashion without a large impact on the

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animal populations involved (Tikhmenev 1978). Commercialization was largely instituted and maintained by Russian and later US governments seeking royalties for the “sea fur” trade.

Fur Seals Fur seals were an early focus of the fur trade. Commercial fur seal exploitation on the Pribilof Islands began after 1786 as Russian fur trader Gavriil Prilbylov “discovered” the islands and later enslaved and forcibly settled Unangan (Aleut) families there. In the first year of organized exploitation (1786 or 1787), traders recorded 40,000 fur seal skins, 2,000 sea otter skins, and 14,400 pounds of walrus ivory. The Russian American Company was officially chartered by Emperor Paul I on July 8, 1799, as a monopoly for resource extraction on the northwest coast of America from latitude 55°N (Scheffer et al. 1984). Exploitation grew, and between 1804 and 1807 alone, furs worth 2.5 million rubles were taken from Alaska, including 15,000 sea otter pelts and almost 280,000 fur seals. Another 500,000 fur seal pelts were in storage in Russia and 800,000 skins were found in Pribilof Island storehouses, of which 700,000 were ruined and discarded (McIntyre 1870 as cited in Scheffer et al. 1984). By 1804, the excessive harvest of fur seals on the Pribilof Islands had diminished local marine mammal populations to the point at which company officers feared extirpation and ordered a temporary ban on fur sealing. Tikhmenev (1978) reports local population declines in the Commander Islands, Copper Island, and Unalaska as well. In 1806 to 1807, nearly all of the Aleut people were removed to Unalaska. Early proclamations and rules were designed to secure a trade monopoly with Alaska Native hunters and increasingly were designed to assert Russian sovereignty over Alaska resources and people. Over time, the Russian American Company and its government benefactors gradually adopted more policies aimed at sustaining the fur seal harvest. Area closures and limitations on the age class and sex of seals to be harvested were instituted by the traders beginning in 1808 (Scheffer et al. 1984; Tikhmenev 1978) with some success. For some time, the strength of these rules depended on which traders were doing the buying, as foreign captains were less likely than Russians to observe company rules, especially when the governor at the time favored higher harvests (Tikhmenev 1978). By 1822, the following reforms were put in place: the zapooska (i.e., sparing young males), a quota, the development of a breeding reserve, and a moratorium on killing of silver pups other than those used for food and oil (Scheffer et al. 1984). Exploitation of fur seals and sea otters through slavery was the dominant mode of production in the Russian colonial era. Throughout this brutal history,

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however, Unangans maintained many of their earlier institutions, including preferences for certain age classes of seals for subsistence and utilizing whale blubber and other materials for building boats (Scheffer et al. 1984; Tikhmenev 1978). Capitalist and subsistence modes operated simultaneously, even as the Russians attempted to control subsistence harvests somewhat. The high economic value placed on fur seal pelts made wealth production the dominant value for marine mammals (Meek 2009). With pressure from US and British traders as well as their governments, Russia eventually accepted an offer from the United States to buy the territory. Russia’s sovereignty over Alaska trade ended the way it had begun; its last act in Alaska was to complete the August harvest of fur seals before effecting the Alaska purchase in 1867 (Scheffer et al. 1984). American officials slowly built a presence in the region, establishing a program of taxation for the fur trade and increasing military activities. In terms of marine mammal management, the US purchase was initially more of a change in the cast of characters than a new chapter in human– environmental relations. Exploitation of fur-bearing animals through monopolies remained a key characteristic of colonial life in Alaska. There were a few changes that brought some relief to the Aleuts, including the right of community members to purchase household goods from the local store (Torrey 1978). However, Aleuts on the Pribilof Islands remained in a state of indentured servitude to the colonial government well into the twentieth century. On July 7, 1911, the United States, Great Britain, Russia, and Japan signed the “Convention for the preservation and protection of the fur seals and sea otter which frequent the waters of the North Pacific Ocean.” The agreement declared a moratorium on pelagic sealing and the importation of skins caught through such means, and it began a turn-around phase for the Pribilof Islands fur seal population (Scheffer et al. 1984). However, the convention also created an enduring institutional legacy: the creation of special rules to prevent indigenous hunters from adopting modern equipment to hunt more efficiently. Technology that existed during the time of colonization was now considered “traditional” for legal purposes, and subsistence hunters were restricted to the use of traditional hunting technology for food. The signatories decreed that The provisions of this Convention shall not apply to Indians, Ainos, Aleuts, or other aborigines dwelling on the coast of the waters mentioned in Article I, who carry on pelagic sealing in canoes not transported by or used in connection with other vessels, and propelled entirely by oars, paddles, or sails, and manned by not more than five persons each, in the way hitherto practiced and without the use of firearms; provided that such aborigines are not

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in the employment of other persons or under contract to deliver the skins to any person. (Convention Article IV, 1911) This restriction of gear type and separation of the subsistence and cash economies is a persistent conceptualization of subsistence harvests as being similar enough to commercial harvests to require regulation but, at the same time, different enough to provide for an exemption from most rules. These restrictions were geared toward reducing catch and thus prohibiting commercial competition from the Aleuts. Considering that the fur seal harvest was the basis of the Unangan economy for more than one hundred years by then, it is likely that hunters would have joined commercial enterprises if they could have; the Unangan conceptualization of fur seals as a resource was not neatly divided into categories of subsistence and trade. Unangans were considered wards of the government, so it is unlikely that the government would have considered granting a contract to the communities themselves. The idea that subsistence hunting should be conducted through anachronistic, “traditional” means is a legacy of this and other contemporary treaties. The fur seal treaty language created enduring, sticky concepts that show up in other contexts as what sociologists DiMaggio and Powell (1991) call “institutional isomorphism,” the replication of institutions for similar purposes without regard to unique circumstance. The United States managed the fur seal harvest together with Russia, Japan, and Great Britain (for Canada) for most of the twentieth century for sealskin products. Eventually populations became depressed and conservation organizations mounted significant pressure to halt the trade. This enterprise in various institutional forms persisted for nearly one hundred years but fell apart after the United States discontinued its factory for processing fur seals on the island in the mid-1980s. The exploitative social conditions on the Pribilof Islands persisted from 1786 until 1962 when Aleut hunters began to receive pay for their work after a successful lawsuit against the government. The islands remained closed to others until the permit system was ended in 1964 (Roppel 1984). As an example of how intertwined marine mammal management is with Alaska history, Aleut people were granted free movement, a basic civil right, not through the Civil Rights Act of 1964 but through the Fur Seal Act of 1966 (Meek 2009).

Institutional Legacies of Fur Seal Policy Several aspects of historic approaches to fur seal management remain part of the fur seal regime today. For instance, to this day, the Fur Seal Act maintains that hunters must use non-motorized vessels and “traditional” hunting technologies. Anthropologists familiar with marine mammal hunting societies note that there

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is no scientific support among anthropologists for defining a traditional hunt as one that requires hunters to use nineteenth-century technologies (Stephen Braund, personal communication); the nineteenth century is an arbitrary choice for establishing a baseline. Through co-management and government-to-government consultations and a strong working relationship, the Pribilof Islands governments (of St. Paul and St. George) and the National Marine Fisheries Service have developed common understandings of sustainable subsistence practices to the point at which anachronistic policy statements are not strictly enforced (Meek 2009). Even if old policy elements are not enforced, they can be supported by and important to other stakeholders who have political motivations for supporting anachronistic definitions of “traditional” uses to argue for the end of subsistence use altogether. For that reason, institutional legacies can have important political implications. Many of the social impacts of the policy system are still in evidence in the Pribilof Islands. St. Paul and St. George were essentially company towns built around the fur seal rookeries, and it is a credit to those communities that they have been able to reestablish an economy and their cultural relationship to fur seals after the devastating collapse of the fur seal industry.

Bowhead Whales Settlement in Alaska north of the Bering Strait occurred more recently than in the Aleutians. Ackerman (1998:255) notes that the presence of harpoons, walrus, seal, and polar bear bones found by archaeologists on Wrangel Island and a sealing harpoon found with bones at Cape Krusenstern are evidence of a “widespread sea mammal hunting complex in the Chukchi Sea region at least by 3200–2800 BP.” Whaling arose among peoples of the Okvik/Old Bering Sea cultures of the Bering Strait region (2200–1250 BP), who also harvested walrus, seals, birds, and sometimes caribou. Whale became more of a significant portion of diets in the Punuk-Birnirk-Thule (1200–250 BP) cultural phases (Ackerman 1998). During this period, settlement sites along whale migration routes became more valuable, evidenced by archaeological finds relating to conflict (Harritt 1995). This culture gave way to modern Eskimo cultures along the Chukchi, Bering, and Beaufort Seas as well as Thule migrants who settled farther east in present-day Canada and Greenland. One of the largest settlements in northern Alaska is at Point Hope, where Tikigagmiut people lived in a large village by 1500 BP, even before beginning their whaling tradition (Ackerman 1998). Arctic Iñupiat lived self-sufficient, nomadic lifestyles late into the nineteenth century organized on strong social bonds and on movement with bowhead whale migrations and other subsistence resources (Chance 1990). At the same time, the Iñupiat maintained active trading relationships with other Alaska Native groups.

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Commercial whaling made a dramatic entrance in the 1840s when right whale summering grounds in the Gulf of Alaska and off the Kamchatka Peninsula were found by Yankee whalers looking for baleen, bones, and oil for industrial applications. Exploitation rapidly intensified. The number of US whaling ships in Alaska waters grew from a few in 1840 to 300–400 by 1851 (Gilmore 1978; Scarff 1991). Commercial bowhead whaling elicited a similar pattern, from one ship in 1848 to 50 in 1849 and 220 in 1852 (Bockstoce and Botkin 1983). A third of the total pelagic catch was taken by 1852 and half by 1865. The population crashed from an estimated 18,000 before the commercial era to 3,000 by the end of the century (Woodby and Botkin 1993). Whalers in the eastern North Pacific next turned to humpback whales, killing an estimated 4,000–5,000 whales in Alaska and British Columbia between 1905 and 1910 (Rice 1978). Alaska Native communities living off pelagic marine mammals felt the brunt of this exploitation as they saw their livelihoods destroyed. For instance, 90% of the people on St. Lawrence Island died in a famine between 1878 and 1880, when there were not enough walrus to feed the community. Pelagic whalers had taken up to 140,000 walruses with the whaling fleets over the period of 1867 to 1883 (Bockstoce 1982). Management of whaling began with the first Convention for the Regulation of Whaling, signed in Geneva in 1931 and entered into force in 1935. The convention exempted “aborigines” from the restrictions of the treaty, provided that they used nonindustrial technology to capture whales and did not sell whale parts to third persons. The text borrows content from the 1911 fur seal treaty and reflects its intent. Article three of the convention states: The present Convention does not apply to aborigines dwelling on the coasts of the territories of the High Contracting Parties provided that: (1) They only use canoes, pirogues or other exclusively native craft propelled by oars or sails; (2) They do not carry firearms; (3) They are not in the employment of persons other than aborigines; (4) They are not under contract to deliver the products of their whaling to any third person. Here the international community is defining subsistence whaling as that which fixes aboriginal technology to preindustrial time periods and separates the cash economy from the subsistence economy. Both of these ideas continue to provide an undercurrent to Alaska resource politics. The revised International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling in 1946 only mentions aboriginal fisheries in exempting

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them from a moratorium on harvesting grey or right whales. The exemption was later deleted, subjecting local whaling patterns to global regulation. As with fur seal subsistence harvesting, bowhead whaling is regulated under a dense set of rules relating to “traditional” practices, but increasingly whalers are also expected to use more humane methods of harvesting whales. There is support within communities and the National Marine Fisheries Service to adopt practices that offer a faster time-to-death between the period when the whale is first harpooned and when it finally dies, if it can be done safely. However, whalers have noted the inconsistency with policy standards that require both the use of inefficient “traditional” technology and the use of technology that is considered to be the most humane (typically more powerful weapons).

Institutional Legacies of Bowhead Whale Management Because commercial whaling was conducted from offshore vessels in the most intensive period of exploitation, there were no effective rules preventing openaccess overharvesting, in accordance to earlier Anglo-Russian treaties establishing freedom of navigation. The lack of institutions to regulate the over-exploitation of large whales has had several legacy effects on Alaska social-ecological systems. Because they reproduce slowly, populations of large marine mammals have been slow to recover. A whale census in 1980 in the northern Gulf of Alaska concluded that all species of great whales were severely depleted. In an area that historically supported thousands of whales, the census found only 159 fin whales, 363 humpback whales, and 36 sperm whales (Rice and Wolman 1982). While many of these species have rebounded in the last thirty years, legacy effects remain. Ecological legacy effects include the change in bowhead whale summering grounds away from Kamchatka and other refuge areas (Springer et al. 2006) and a potential restructuring of the marine ecosystem due to the loss of food for predators and nutrients from dead animals (Kareiva et al. 2006). Authors such as Myers and Worm (2003) have developed a hypothesis based on a shift toward pelagic fisheries and bottomup ecological dynamics as the great whales were no longer feeding on plankton to the same extent, removing food limitations for other species (Essington 2006; Kareiva et al. 2006). Social legacies of the colonial era include expanded patterns of trade for Iñupiaq and other whalers working from shore-based whaling stations (Bockstoce 1986; Brower 1942) before the collapse of whale stocks. More ominous legacies include the starvation of St. Lawrence Islanders and the loss of social structures in St. Lawrence communities due to the overharvest of walrus by whalers (Mudar and Speaker 2003), a population collapse of Aleut people in the Aleutians (Black 2004), and widespread foreign diseases to which Alaska Natives had no immunity

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and few remedies (Fortuine 1989). Communities battered by war, disease, and famine were in many cases forced to relocate or otherwise reorganize through missionary expansion and the development of territorial health and education systems. Despite all of this unimaginable change, many communities continued recognizable indigenous patterns of subsistence production, sharing, and trade. That is not to say that the social-ecological system dynamics prior to colonization remained unchanged. However, even through ecological and social collapse, the memory of the system in many parts of Alaska was strong enough in individuals and families, in communities and languages and practices, that the subsistence life-world continued despite these shocks to the system. The bowhead whale “fishery” has been regulated in a successful cross-scale (comanagement) enterprise since the 1980s. However, the ongoing intense focus on the aboriginal fishery at the international level is now largely a political as much as an ecological effort. The Bering-Chukchi-Beaufort population of bowhead whales has functionally recovered from Yankee whaling days (Gerber et al. 2007) and does not represent a biological management problem per se.

Polar Bears After World War II, polar bears became a prominent trophy game animal on the Alaska coasts; prior to statehood, harvests by sport hunters were tracked to a greater or lesser extent through the export of skins (Lentfer 1970). The state of Alaska classified polar bears as “big game” in its 1960 game laws and limited hunting through bag limits. By 1961, the state required hunters to present the skins for monitoring harvests (Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife and the State of Alaska 1965). Early on, Alaska Native guides had been successful guides for sport hunters, but their businesses suffered under the growth of aerial bear hunting, which was faster and more efficient but largely populated by non-Native guides. In addition, subsistence hunters were prohibited from using aircraft to hunt bears. The state did still allow a trade in skins, however. By 1965, aerial hunting of polar bears was thought to have seriously affected populations around the Arctic, and the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) convened a meeting of polar bear experts in Fairbanks to discuss developing a pan-Arctic polar bear conservation strategy. Alaska bear biologists had relied on bear sightings by pilots in their assessment of the health of populations in remote regions such as the Chukchi Sea coast. However, the increasing likelihood of a shutdown of the sport hunt affected the working relationship of biologists, and guides and the state began to doubt the validity of the positive population data from the pilots (Lentfer 1972). Russia had declared the Chukchi polar bear population (shared with Alaska) depleted and had banned hunting in

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1954, although Alaska biologists disputed the evidence of declines or the ability of the international community to successfully manage polar bears (Lentfer 1970). In 1970, the American representative to the IUCN reported that restrictions in harvest would likely be necessary to counter increased aerial hunting (Lentfer 1970). In 1973, the parties agreed to an end to commercial hunting, protection of polar bear habitat, and scientific studies through a multilateral treaty (Baur 1995; Fikkan et al. 1993). The Alaska State regime for polar bears was preempted by the 1972 Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA), and responsibility for polar bears was transferred to the US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS). The United States uses the MMPA and now the Endangered Species Act to satisfy its obligations under the 1973 international Agreement on the Conservation of Polar Bears. Under the MMPA, Alaska Natives are exempt from direct regulation (e.g., quotas) unless the government finds the related population of animals to be depleted or the harvest to be wasteful. The challenge for managers and hunters has been to develop mutually agreed-on rules that define wasteful uses, although the 2008 decision to list the polar bear as threatened under the Endangered Species Act is likely to change this process to a more closely regulated one. Co-management of polar bears in Alaska has developed out of the common desire to foster joint community-service understandings of polar bear conservation and legal issues as well as to prepare a comprehensive trans-border Chukchi Sea polar bear regime with Russia (Meek et al. 2008).

Institutional Legacies of Polar Bear Management Overharvest and oil and gas development encroaching on habitat were the key problems defined for polar bear management when the 1973 international Agreement on the Conservation of Polar Bears was signed (Fikkan et al. 1993). The USFWS harvest assessment program was designed with the problem of overharvest in mind. However, the 2006 status review done by the USFWS for the polar bear found that habitat loss and the failure of climate policy were the two key drivers of polar bear endangerment (Schliebe et al. 2006). That is not to say that subsistence hunting is completely insignificant. Regulating hunting is perhaps necessary, but it is insufficient for the recovery of polar bears into the future. In addition, the social capital (e.g., agency-community interactions such as calling, personal visits, and patrolling of handicraft events) used by the USFWS to assess harvests and enforce handicraft rules may weaken community support for service-led initiatives (Meek 2009; Robards and Joly 2008).

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Policy Histories Affect Contemporary Policy Options History has a long arc in the story of marine mammal management in Alaska. Drivers of institutional development have included technological progress (e.g., the development of sea mammal hunting) and competition for resources in the development of indigenous homelands in Alaska. Other factors are the quest for sovereignty and high commercial yields in the colonial era, which ended in nascent conservation institutions, and development of co-management in the post-MMPA era. Uses and diversity of values toward marine mammals have also changed through time for both non-Native and Native peoples. Human interactions with bowhead whales and polar bears are largely regulated the same way they were in the 1970s, when populations were suffering depressed numbers following intense commercialization in previous decades. These institutional legacies— definitions, management philosophies, and policy mandates that no longer fit the circumstances—are sometimes difficult to dismantle. For instance, several contentious issues in the Marine Mammal Protection Act and the ability of dominant policy actors such as environmental groups to set the agenda make an overhaul of the MMPA difficult to achieve. The MMPA has not been reauthorized since 1994, partly because of this reason. A number of compromises in the legislation make reopening it in Congress a risky proposition. Some groups fear the dismantling of marine mammal conservation, and others fear greater regulation of the “take” of animals for various purposes. Because of this hesitancy, programs are reformed piecemeal through agency discretion and rulemaking. This rulemaking is subject to public comment, but it cannot cover the sort of comprehensive overhaul that the MMPA might need, especially in the Arctic with rapidly changing conditions. With significant loss of sea ice habitats supporting populations of ice-dependent species such as polar bears, walrus, and ribbon seals, the arctic marine environment is changing faster than most climate models have been predicting (Stroeve et al. 2007). It may be too rapid to be addressed under slow processes of legislative reform. An adaptive approach would be to create a regional marine ecosystem– based plan and focus on managing for resisting catastrophic change and for the long-term recovery of ecological support systems that underlie the conservation of species. Arriving at this future state may require sorting and keeping ecologically necessary policy strategies while discarding institutional legacies without meaningful ecological rationales.

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References Ackerman, R. E. 1998. Early maritime traditions in the Bering, Chukchi, and East Siberian Seas. Arctic Anthropology 35, 247. Anderies, J. M., M. A. Janssen, and E. Ostrom. 2004. A framework to analyze the robustness of social-ecological systems from an institutional perspective. Ecology and Society 9, 18. Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming Arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baur, D. C. 1995. Reconciling polar bear protection under United States laws and the international agreement for the conservation of polar bears. Animal Law 2, 9–99. Berkes, F. 2002. Cross-scale institutional linkages: Perspectives from the bottom up. In The drama of the commons. Edited by E. T. Ostrom, T. Dietz, N. Dolsak, P. C. Stern, S. Stonich, and E. U. Weber. Washington DC: National Academy Press. Black, L. T. 2004. Russians in Alaska 1732–1867. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Bockstoce, J. R. 1982. The harvest of Pacific walruses by the pelagic whaling industry 1848–1914. Arctic and Alpine Research 14, 183–188. Bockstoce, J. R. 1986. Whales, ice, and men. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Bockstoce, J. R., and D. B. Botkin. 1983. The historical status and reduction of the Western Arctic bowhead whale (Balaena mysticetus) population by the pelagic whaling industry, 1848–1914. Report of the International Whaling Commission Special Issue 5, 107–142. Brower, C. D. 1942. Fifty years below zero. 1997. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Burch, E. S., Jr. 1998. The Iñupiaq Eskimo nations of northwest Alaska. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife and the State of Alaska. 1965. Proceedings of the First International Scientific Meeting on the Polar Bear. US Department of the Interior Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife and the State of Alaska, Fairbanks, Alaska. Caulfield, R. A. 1997. Greenlanders, whales, and whaling. Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College. Chance, N. A. 1990. The Iñupiat and arctic Alaska: An ethnography of development. Fort Worth, TX: Holt Rinehart & Winston. Chapin, F. S., III, G. P. Kofinas, and C. Folke (eds.). 2009. Principles of ecosystem stewardship: Resilience-based natural resource management in a changing world. New York: Springer-Verlag. Dietz, T., E. Ostrom, and P. C. Stern. 2003. The struggle to govern the commons. Science 302, 1907–1912. DiMaggio, P. J., and W. W. Powell (eds.). 1991. The new institutionalism in organizational analysis. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Essington, T. E. 2006. Pelagic ecosystem response to a century of commercial fishing and whaling. In Whales, whaling and ocean ecosystems. Edited by J. A. Estes, D. P. DeMaster, D. F. Doak, T. M. Williams, and R. L. Brownell Jr. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fernandez-Gimenez, M. E., H. P. Huntington, and K. J. Frost. 2006. Integration or co-optation? Traditional knowledge and science in the Alaska Beluga Whale Committee. Environmental Conservation 33, 306–315. Fienup-Riordan, A. 1983. The Nelson Island Eskimo: Social structure and ritual distribution. Anchorage: Alaska Pacific University Press. Fikkan, A., G. Osherenko, and A. Arikainen. 1993. Polar bears: The importance of simplicity. In Polar politics: Creating international environmental regimes. Edited by O. R. Young and G. Osherenko. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Fortuine, R. 1989. Chills and fever: Health and disease in the early history of Alaska. Anchorage: University of Alaska Press. Gerber, L. R., A. C. Keller, and D. P. DeMaster. 2007. Ten thousand and increasing: Is the western Arctic population of bowhead whale endangered? Biological Conservation 137, 577–583. Gilmore, R. M. 1978. Right whale. In Marine mammals of eastern North Pacific and arctic waters. Edited by D. Haley. Seattle: Pacific Search Press. Harritt, R. K. 1995. The development and spread of the whale hunting complex in Bering Strait: Retrospective and prospects. In Hunting the largest animals: Native whaling in the western Arctic and subarctic. Edited by A. P. McCartney. Edmonton: Canadian Circumpolar Institute, University of Alberta. Haydu, J. 1998. Making use of the past: Time periods as cases to compare and as sequences of problem solving. The American Journal of Sociology 104, 339–371. Howlett, M., and J. Rayner. 2006. Understanding the historical turn in the policy sciences: A critique of stochastic, narrative, path dependency and process-sequencing models of policy-making over time. Policy Sciences 39, 1–18. Huntington, H. P. 1992. Wildlife management and subsistence hunting in Alaska. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Kareiva, P., C. Yuan-Farrel, and C. O’Connor. 2006. Whales are big and it matters. In Whales, whaling and ocean ecosystems. Edited by J. A. Estes, P. P. Demaster, D. F. Doak, T. M. Williams, and R. L. Brownell Jr. Berkeley: University of California Press. Langdon, S. 1989. Prospects for co-management of marine animals in Alaska. In Co-operative management of local fisheries: New directions for improved management and community development. Edited by E. Pinkerton. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Lantis, M. 1947. Alaskan Eskimo ceremonialism. Seattle: University of Washington Press.

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Lentfer, J. W. 1970. Polar bear research and conservation in Alaska, 1968–1969. In 2nd Working Meeting of Polar Bear Specialists organized by IUCN. Edited by IUCN. Morges, Switzerland. Lentfer, J. W. 1972. Polar bear report. Alaska Federal Aid in Wildlife Restoration Progress Report, Projects W-17-4 and W-17-5. Juneau: Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Meek, C. 2009. Comparing marine mammal co-management regimes in Alaska: Three aspects of institutional performance, PhD dissertation, University of Alaska Fairbanks. Meek, C. L., A. L. Lovecraft, M. D. Robards, and G. P. Kofinas. 2008. Building resilience through interlocal relations: Case studies of polar bear and walrus management in the Bering Strait. Marine Policy 32, 1080–1089. Mudar, K., and S. Speaker. 2003. Natural catastrophes in Arctic populations: The 1878– 1880 famine on Saint Lawrence Island, Alaska. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 22, 75–104. Myers, R. A., and B. Worm. 2003. Rapid worldwide depletion of predatory fish communities. Nature 423. Potter, B.A., J.D. Irish, J.D. Reuther, C. Gelvin-Reymiller, and V.T. Holliday. 2011. A terminal Pleistocene child cremation and residential structure from Eastern Beringia. Science 331(6020), 1058-1062. Rice, D. W. 1978. The humpback whale in the North Pacific: Distribution, exploitation, and numbers. In Report on a Workshop on Problems Related to Humpback Whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) in Hawaii. Edited by K. S. Norris and R. R. Reeves. Washington DC: Marine Mammal Commission. Rice, D. W., and A. A. Wolman. 1982. Whale census in the Gulf of Alaska June to August 1980. Report of the International Whaling Commission 32, 491–497. Robards, M., and J. L. Joly. 2008. Interpretation of “wasteful manner” within the Marine Mammal Protection Act and its role in management of the Pacific Walrus. Ocean and Coastal Law Journal 13, 171. Roppel, A. Y. 1984. NOAA Technical Report NMFS 4: Management of Northern fur seals on the Pribilof Islands, Alaska, 1786–1981. Edited by NMF Service, NOAA. Scarff, J. E. 1991. Historic distribution and abundance of the right whale (Eubalaena glacialis) in the North Pacific, Bering Sea, Sea of Okhotsk and Sea of Japan from the Maury whale charts. Report of the International Whaling Commission 41, 467–489. Scheffer, V. B., C. H. Fiscus, and E. I. Todd. 1984. History of scientific study and management of the Alaska fur seal, Callorhinus ursinus, 1786–1964. NOAA Technical Report NMFS SSRF-780, Department of Commerce. Schliebe, S., T. Evans, K. Johnson, M. Roy, S. Miller, C. Hamilton, R. Meehan, and S. Jahrsdoerfer (eds.). 2006. Range-wide status review of the polar bear (Ursus maritimus). Anchorage: US Fish and Wildlife Service.

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Springer, A. M., G. B. Van Vliet, J. F. Piatt, and E. M. Danner. 2006. Whales and whaling in the North Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea: Oceanographic insights and ecosystem impacts. In Whales, whaling and ocean ecosystems. Edited by J. A. Estes, R. L. Brownell, D. P. DeMaster, D. P. Doak, and T. M. Williams. Berkeley: University of California Press. Stroeve, J., M. M. Holland, W. Meier, T. Scambos, and M. Serreze. 2007. Arctic sea ice decline: Faster than forecast. Geophysical Research Letters 34, L09501, doi:10.1029/2007GL029703. Thelen, K. 2003. Insights from comparative historical analysis. In Comparative historical analysis in the social sciences. Edited by J. Mahoney and D. Rueschemeyer. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tikhmenev, P. A. 1978. A history of the Russian-American Company (in translation). Seattle: University of Washington Press. Torrey, B. B. 1978. Slaves of the harvest: The story of the Pribilof Aleuts. Alaska St. Paul Island, AK:Tanadgusix Corporation (ATC). White, G. 2002. Treaty federalism in Northern Canada: Aboriginal-government land claims boards. Publius: The Journal of Federalism 32(3), 89–114. Woodby, D. A., and D. B. Botkin. 1993. Stock sizes prior to commercial whaling. In The bowhead whale. Edited by J. J. Burns, J. J. Montague, and C. J. Cowles. Lawrence, KS: Society for Marine Mammalogy.

Endnotes 1 2 3

Bowhead whales remain protected under the Endangered Species Act even though recent population figures suggest that they have recovered to a safe population level (Gerber et al. 2007). “Nation” is used in the sense of Burch (1998) to mean a group of people of common identity, organized around a geographic base with qualitatively delineated borders. Institutions are rule sets that organize human behavior.

5.5

Addressing Rural Livelihood and Community Well-Being in Alaska’s Fisheries by courtney carothers

I

ncreasing international concerns about global climate change and sustainable ocean governance have solidified the need for a better understanding of the links between ecological and social systems. In June 2009, US President Obama established an Ocean Policy Task Force to develop a national policy to promote both healthy ocean ecosystems and coastal economies (CEQ 2009). This group has expressed support for holistic ecosystembased science “including comprehensive research on the linkages among ecosystem health, human health, economic opportunity, national and homeland security, social justice, and environmental change” (CEQ 2009:4). Natural resource management regimes are challenged to include issues of health, well-being, and social justice alongside concerns for sustainably managing renewable populations (Berkes and Folke 1998; Chapin et al. 2009; Ommer 2007). As Criddle et al. review in this volume (Chapter 5.2), the fisheries off Alaska are ecologically and economically diverse. Alaska and US North Pacific fisheries are internationally recognized models of sustainable management. Yet the sustainability of rural livelihoods and communities in this region is in question. Many small, remote, resource-dependent communities face exclusions from policies of enclosure that limit and commodify their resource rights.1 These exclusions deeply constrain the flexible, opportunistic engagements that have formed the backbone of rural economies for generations (Lowe and Carothers 2008). Dominant discourses of efficiency and profit maximization that have become hegemonic in framing resource management have tended to marginalize the cultural logics of coastal peoples that have been structured around values and economies of sufficiency (Princen 2005). 377

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Alaska has long been the home of diverse groups of people with pluralistic relationships to marine resources. Indigenous peoples have been making their living from the sea in this region for nearly ten thousand years. Many contemporary Iñupiaq, Yup’ik, Unangan/Aleut, Sugpiaq/Alutiiq, Athabascan, Eyak, Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian communities continue to depend on the resources of the sea for nutritional, economic, spiritual, and cultural needs. Over 80% of Alaska’s rural residents are members of these indigenous groups (Goldsmith 2007). The colonial and postcolonial histories of the region have produced diverse cultural and economic hybrids (Gupta 1998). Many rural communities in Alaska maintain mixed subsistence-cash economies; however, the environmental, economic, and social restructuring that has unfolded in the long history of colonialism, industrial capitalism, and globalization has often worked to displace local producers from their resource bases (Ommer 2007). Despite these global trends, resource and livelihood attachments remain core features of coastal indigenous communities. The persistence of strong place and resource attachments among many Alaska Native villagers has brought the question of rural livelihood and community sustainability to the forefront of emerging marine governance. Drawing on ethnographic insights from research conducted between 2005 and 2010 in rural fishing communities in the Gulf of Alaska, this chapter provides an overview of the human dimensions of marine governance by drawing attention to issues of community health, well-being, and social justice that demand increased focus within efforts to provide for the sustainability and resilience of holistic fishery social-ecological systems.

Rural Fishing Community Well-Being No one in Old Harbor—no child, man, or woman in this village, and this is the saddest part—will ever be able to enter in the fishing industry on their own. It’s locked because you can’t afford to buy the boat. You can’t afford to buy the gear, the permits, the quota. It’s financially impossible for someone coming up in the village to make a prosperous living as a fisherman. —Retired Fisherman, Native Village of Old Harbor, 2006 While many of the fisheries off Alaska are ecologically healthy, many of the coastal communities that depend on these resources are not. In the Gulf of Alaska, Alutiiq fishing communities such as Old Harbor struggle to maintain even minimal involvement in commercial fishing (Carothers 2010). For more than seven

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thousand years the people of the Kodiak Archipelago have made their living almost entirely from the sea. In recent years, these continuities have been challenged. Within the last generation participation in commercial fishing has dropped from nearly 90% to less than 30% in Kodiak fishing villages. Decreased fishing participation is particularly pronounced among Alaska Native and low-income fishing families (Carothers et al. 2010; Carothers 2008a). The reasons for these declines are complex, but local people identify the policies of enclosure that have limited and commodified fishing rights as an important catalyst driving these trends. In the Alaska context, policies such as individual transferable quotas (ITQs) have not fit well with the flexible fishing strategies based on sufficiency rather than profitability employed by many rural coastal residents. Individualizing access rights has tended to create new hierarchies in collective family fishing operations. Commodified fishing rights have led to prohibitive entry cost for many crew members and other young people who do not have sufficient capital to purchase fishing rights. Commodifying the right to fish into highvalue capital assets has led to a drain of fishing rights from cash-poor communities (Carothers 2008b; Langdon 2008; Lowe 2008; Reedy-Maschner 2008). The growing consensus among many fishing communities in the Gulf of Alaska is that individual and community well-being have suffered as the direct result of displacement from local resource access and wealth. Community well-being has suffered in at least three ways. First, local resource control has been eroded. Waves of Russian and US colonization and the development of large-scale extractive industries in coastal Alaska have long threatened the sovereignty of indigenous peoples’ resource rights. More recently, coastal communities and their relationships to marine resource systems have been restructured by land and resource privatization policies. The Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) of 1971, for example, extinguished indigenous claims to fishing rights. Many coastal villages were concerned that while ANCSA compensated indigenous people for land claims, marine territory and resource rights were not properly settled. The fact that ANCSA did not include marine resource rights was not seen as an oversight at the time because ANCSA predated the policies that began to formally enclose these rights. As one elder from Ouzinkie explained, It wasn’t the same then as it is now. It was free enterprise then. There wasn’t no limited entry, no quotas; not like land, where you needed ownership to build. .╯.╯. People weren’t thinking about it. If we knew then what we know now, it would’ve been different. In 1976, soon after ANCSA, the Fishery Management and Conservation Act was passed (amended as the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Management and

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Conservation Act in 1996 and reauthorized in 2006). As a result of that act, the United States claimed sovereignty of marine waters and resources out to 200 miles from shore. Also in the 1970s, the state of Alaska passed the Limited Entry Act, which individualized and commodified the right to fish for salmon. This act created exclusive fishing rights by formally entitling certain users to commercially fish for salmon, while prohibiting all others. The Alaska State Constitution had to be amended to enable this act to pass, because this act provided for exclusive access to the public resources of the state. Since then, both the state and federal systems of management have continued to privatize fishing access rights for many fisheries (e.g., halibut, sablefish, pollock, crab; see Criddle et al., Chapter 5.2). Several important social, cultural, and economic mismatches between individual, commodified fishing rights and rural fishing communities have tended to displace fishing rights from these places (Carothers 2008a; Kamali 1984; Langdon 1980). Kin-based collective fishing operations were not well accounted for when the right to fish was individualized. Investing owners of capital with fishing rights rather than those who had supplied their labor as skippers and crew members solidified the gaps between these classes. As a result, the labor mobility from crew member to boat owner that typified rural fishing livelihoods was greatly impeded. Consolidation brought on by buying and selling of fishing rights led to fleet reductions and fewer jobs. Retaining a high-value capital asset such as fishing rights in times of low cash flow became a hardship for many rural families in cash-poor communities. Fishers at the margins, often those more heavily involved in subsistence fisheries, with inferior boats and gear, became less competitive as commodified fishing rights led to increased specialization and professionalization. These reasons, along with others explored in more detail elsewhere (Carothers 2010, 2008a), have contributed to the displacement of rural communities’ access to commercial fisheries. As Bavnick et al. (2005:318) note, “the social consequences of divesting coastal communities and their residents of access rights to the resources can be extremely significant in the long term.” The loss of commercial fishing access has had important implications for the mixed economies of rural Alaska’s coastal communities. Commercial and subsistence fisheries are linked in many ways. Commercial fishing engagements often provide the revenue for fuel and gear as well as boats to harvest subsistence fish. Reedy-Maschner (2010, 2007) describes how the salmon limited entry system implemented in Alaska in the 1970s reinforced socioeconomic differences among the eastern Aleut in King Cove. The ability of men to fulfill subsistence obligations was compromised by limited access to commercial fishing. Lowe (2008) also notes the close link between commercial and subsistence fishing among locals in Dutch Harbor/Unalaska where it is difficult to access key harvesting areas without vessels capable of traveling in the rough waters around the Aleutians. These

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trends are noticeable in Kodiak communities, where decreased holdings of salmon seine permits are related to decreased subsistence harvest (Carothers 2008a). Conn and Langdon (1988) discuss how subsistence activities, as a key feature of cultural and economic autonomy for indigenous communities in Alaska, are an important process of “retribalization” and are therefore an especially vital component of community health and wellness. The impact of lost commercial fishing access has wide implications for the resilience of mixed economies in coastal Alaska. Loss of resource access rights and control has led to a second issue of concern for community well-being. Small remote coastal communities are depopulating. This trend has been pronounced across rural Alaska in recent years (O’Malley and Hopkins 2008). In Kodiak communities, families have moved out primarily because of a lack of commercial fishing or alternative economic opportunities and for educational reasons (Carothers 2008b). While some coastal economies are diversifying, particularly through tourism development that caters to sport fishers and hunters, commercial fishing has been an economic mainstay supporting these rural economies for generations. Third, in addition to economic and educational challenges in rural villages, individuals and communities face other social concerns. Transitions away from fishingbased livelihoods have left some individuals and families struggling with identity issues. In the village of Ouzinkie (population approximately 200), for example, the identity of fishing-based livelihoods remains strong; however, few people make a living from fishing anymore. One of the remaining fishers said of the community, There’s some local jobs and fishing, but not enough jobs. There’s nothing to help the young people here. Fishing is part of our heritage, part of our culture; it’s what our dads did and granddads did. The crew members have no opportunities to teach their sons because they don’t even have jobs. I’m very fortunate that I’m able [to still do so]. Losing the ability to maintain environmental livelihood connections and to pass on knowledge and skills to the next generation was expressed in numerous interviews as detrimental to self-esteem and confidence. Loss of rural livelihoods and cultural assimilation is also linked to social problems of substance abuse and related concerns that have plagued many indigenous communities across the globe. Social problems are often not considered culturally appropriate to discuss; however, some informants place these problems at the core of issues of community health and wellness. The postcolonial context of indigenous villages in Alaska makes any simplistic causal links between particular policies and social outcomes problematic. However, it is important and appropriate to situate resource privatization policies

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within the history of colonialism and state-making that has challenged the persistence of the culturally diverse, mixed economies of indigenous communities. Many rural, resource-dependent coastal communities in Alaska face concerns for individual and community health, well-being, and social justice similar to those experienced in Kodiak villages. The challenge is to imagine new forms of restructuring that lead to improved health and well-being and more equitable outcomes. Ommer (2007:18) provides us with a holistic vision of community health as a: socio-economic environmental system where the economic, social, and political components are organized and maintained in such a way as to promote both human and natural environmental well-being so that the community experiences relatively high levels of social support, a culturally acceptable standard of living, less rather than more inequality, and similar benefits that augment individual well-being and provide for low levels of social dysfunction .╯.╯. extends to those interactions of communities with their environment in ways that sustain quality of life and promote resilience in response to stressors. This “social-ecological” health, which includes the cultural, social, and environmental dimensions of health and reflects the link to restructuring by integrating these components into one framework that recognizes that processes operating within social, environmental, and cultural contexts have interdependent, reciprocal, and nonlinear relationships and feedback effects, and also complex causality. Large research questions loom for exploring fishing community and fishery system sustainability in the Alaska region, and for envisioning what healthy “socialecological health” may look like. Key among these is how the diversity of values, livelihoods, and communities can be better accounted for in resource management policy. A focus on pluralism can help to provide models for more inclusive marine governance.

A Call for Pluralism in Marine Governance Contemporary marine resource governance systems face many challenges in addressing the diversity and well-being of coastal livelihoods and communities. First, marine resource policies need to provide for the flexible and sustained participation of diverse participants and communities (e.g., García-Quijano 2009; Jentoft 2000). In the Alaska context, developing policies that promote the sustainability

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of mixed coastal economies is of key concern. As described above, many policies based on individual, commodified fishing rights have not fit well with the cultures and economies of rural communities. The subsistence lifestyle has persisted in these communities and forms a fundamental cultural model of appropriate human– environment unity; the clear separation of commercial and subsistence fisheries, typical in state and federal resource management, is problematic. Marine resource management could be more responsive to rural livelihoods if the links between small-scale, mixed motivation fisheries involvement and coastal community wellbeing were better understood and accounted for in policy development. Steps have been taken to provide for rural coastal community access to commercial fisheries in some regions of Alaska. For example, the Community Development Quota program implemented in western Alaska in 1992 was intended to share the wealth of the lucrative nonlocal Bering Sea fisheries with regional rural communities (NRC 1999). Six corporations representing sixty-five eligible communities in the Bering Sea region are directly allocated a share of the commodified fishing rights for pollock, halibut, Pacific cod, crab, and other groundfish species. In 2005, another community fishing rights ownership model, the Community Quota Program, was adopted to help rural communities in the Gulf of Alaska region regain fishing rights (Langdon 2008). In large part due to the high cost of fishing rights on the market, the program has not been successful in bringing fishing access back to small coastal communities in the region (Carothers, in press). These two examples of community retention of fishing rights work within the privatization model of resource management by providing additional opportunities for communities in need of fisheries access. However, explicit inclusion of conceptual, cultural, and value pluralism in marine resource management would further foster the development of responsive policies that are better able to meet the needs of the diverse communities, cultures, and economies dependent on the sea. A second challenge facing resource managers is combating discursive trends and policy processes that depoliticize decision making and minimize explicit discussion about divergent values. Both Kooiman et al. (2005) and Ommer (2007) draw attention to the centrality of the pluralism evident in the diverse relationships that various groups of people have with marine resources. Kooiman and Chuenpagdee (2005:341–342) state: Fisheries governors should be obliged to make the origin of their ideas explicit—analytically, ethically, and politically. When governors select and define problems and when they ascribe certain solutions to these problems, they inevitably draw on some fundamental assumptions and worldviews, which should be brought to the surface so that they can be explained, defended, discussed,

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and evaluated.╯.╯. . Values are always embedded in social practices, thus we need to be sensitive to the possibility that values differ because social practices differ; and that consequently principles or norms applying to fisheries governance may differ. Governors and governed alike must be able to identify what these values are, bring them into the discourse on governance, and decide how, in practical terms, they should inform collective decision-making and managing practices. Similarly, Jentoft (2007:433) directs us to the core importance of an analysis of power in understanding fisheries governance: We need to examine how power is expressed in fisheries and coastal management discourse, including fishery science itself. We also need to know how management institutions frame, legitimize, and validate[s] discourse .╯.╯. if we want to understand how natural and social systems change, we should focus on how power works in fisheries and coastal settings. The power of fisheries managers and scientists to frame certain issues of governance is easily observed in formal processes of Alaska fishery management. Philosophical or overtly normative discussions during public comment periods, for example, tend to be disregarded as irrelevant to policy formulation processes by managers (Carothers 2008a). By delegitimizing the debate of fundamental assumptions, values, and worldviews that underlie certain management programs (e.g., privatized fishing rights), bureaucratic processes work to reinforce current systems already in place and do not provide a productive space for envisioning alternatives. Explicit recognition of divergent worldviews and diverse values is more often discussed in literature on fisheries development in the global South. Political ecologists and others assert the need to explore similar questions in the North (e.g., Castree 2007). The breadth of communities and cultures in Alaska reflects the diversities of values people have regarding the proper relationships between people and the resources of the sea. Understanding worldview in divergent value systems is essential for successful and equitable resource management (Berkes 1999). All communities in Alaska are embedded in larger political economic systems. But in important ways, these communities are unique. As Ommer (2007) notes, the development of adaptive strategies in rural places in many ways may enhance the resilience of these communities to deal with new environmental or economic changes. Traditional ecological knowledge and holistic knowledge-practice-belief

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systems (Berkes 1999) accumulated over millennia provide a strong base for adaptive responses (García-Quijano 2009). Resource management and marine governance systems need to pay closer attention to the ways in which individual and community well-being and distributive justice are accounted for, examined, and addressed in new policy development. Acknowledging conceptual, cultural, and value pluralism and the centrality of issues of power is essential for developing effective and equitable governance in Alaska and beyond.

References Bavnick, M., R. Chuenpagdee, P. Degnbol, and J. Pascual-Fernandez. 2005. Challenges and concerns revisited. In Fish for life: Interactive governance for fisheries. Edited by J. Kooiman, M. Bavnick, S. Jentoft, and R. Pullin. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Berkes, F. 1999. Sacred ecology: Traditional ecological knowledge and resource management. London: Francis & Taylor. Berkes, F., and C. Folke. 1998. Linking social and ecological systems: Management practices and social mechanisms for building resilience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carothers, C. in press. Equity and Access to Fishing Rights: Exploring the Community Quota Program in the Gulf of Alaska. Human Organization 70(2). Carothers, C. 2008a. “Rationalized out”: Discourses and realities of fisheries privatization in Kodiak, Alaska. In Enclosing the fisheries: People, places, and power. Symposium 68. Edited by M. Lowe and C. Carothers. Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society. Carothers, C. 2008b. Privatizing the right to fish: Challenges to livelihood and community in Kodiak, Alaska. Doctoral dissertation. University of Washington, Seattle. Carothers, C., D.K. Lew, and J. Sepez. 2010. Fishing rights and small communities: Alaska halibut IFQ transfer patterns. Ocean and Coastal Management 53: 518-523. Castree, N. 2007. Making First World political ecology. Environment and Planning 39(8), 2036. Chapin, F. S., III, G. Kofinas, and C. Folke. 2009. Principles of ecosystem stewardship: Resilience-based natural resource management in a changing world. New York: Springer. Conn, S., and S. Langdon. 1988. Retribalization as a strategy for achievement of group and individual social security in Alaska native villages—with a special focus on subsistence. In Between kinship and the state. Edited by F. von Benda-Beckmann, K. von Benda-Beckmann, E. Casino, F. Hirtz, G. Woodman, and H. Zacher. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Foris Publications. Council for Environmental Quality (CEQ). 2009. Interim report of the Interagency Task Force. Executive Office of the President, Washington DC.

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García-Quijano, C. 2009. Managing complexity: Ecological knowledge and success in Puerto Rican small-scale fisheries. Human Organization 68(1), 1–17. Goldsmith, S. 2007. The remote rural economy of Alaska, report, Institute of Social and Economic Research, Anchorage. Available at http://www.iser.uaa.alaska.edu/ Publications/u_ak/uak_remoteruraleconomyak.pdf. Gupta, A. 1998. Postcolonial developments: Agriculture in the making of modern India. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Jentoft, S. 2000. The community: A missing link of fisheries management. Marine Policy 24, 53–59. Jentoft, S. 2007. The power of power: The understated aspect of fisheries and coastal management. Human Organization 66(4), 426–437. Kamali, N. 1984. Alaskan Natives and limited fisheries of Alaska: A study of the changes in the distribution of permit ownership amongst Alaska Natives, 1975–1983. CFEC Report 84–8. Alaska Commercial Fisheries Entry Commission, Juneau. Kooiman, J., M. Bavnick, S. Jentoft, and R. Pullin (eds.). 2005. Fish for life: Interactive governance for fisheries. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Kooiman, J., and R. Chuenpagdee. 2005. Governance and governability. In Fish for life: Interactive governance for fisheries. Edited by J. Kooiman, M. Bavnick, S. Jentoft, and R. Pullin. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Langdon, S. 1980. Transfer patterns in Alaskan limited entry fisheries. Final report prepared for the Limited Entry Study Group of the Alaska State Legislature. Juneau. Langdon, S. 2008. The Community Quota Program in the Gulf of Alaska: A vehicle for Alaska Native Village sustainability? In Enclosing the fisheries: People, places, and power. Symposium 68. Edited by M. Lowe and C. Carothers. Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society. Lowe, M. 2008. Crab rationalization and potential community impacts of vertical integration in Alaska’s fisheries. In Enclosing the fisheries: People, places, and power. Symposium 68. Edited by M. Lowe and C. Carothers. Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society. Lowe, M., and C. Carothers (eds.). 2008. Enclosing the fisheries: People, places, and power. Symposium 68. Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society. National Research Council (NRC). 1999. The Community Development Quota Program in Alaska. Washington DC: National Academy Press. O’Malley, J., and K. Hopkins. 2008. Bush costs prompts exodus to cities. Anchorage Daily News, Sept. 28, 2008. Available at http://www.adn.com/rural/story/541188.html. Ommer, R., and the Coasts Under Stress Research Project Team. 2007. Coasts under stress: Restructuring and social-ecological health. Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press. Princen, T. 2005. The logic of sufficiency. Cambridge: MIT Press. Reedy-Maschner, K. L. 2010. Aleut identities: Tradition and modernity in an indigenous fishery. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press.

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Reedy-Maschner, K. 2007. The best-laid plans: Limited entry permits and limited entry systems in Eastern Aleut culture. Human Organization 66, 210–225. Reedy-Maschner, K. 2008. Eastern Aleut society under three decades of limited entry. In Enclosing the fisheries: People, places, and power. Symposium 68. Edited by M. Lowe and C. Carothers. Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society.

Endnote 1

Commodify is a term used to describe something that has taken on the characteristics of a commodity. In this case, resource rights have taken on a monetary value and can be bought and sold in an exchange market.

5.6

Tracking Changes in CoastalCommunity Subsistence to Improve Understanding of Arctic Climate Change by martin d. robards, hajo eicken, and f. stuart chapin iii

H

uman communities around the world exist in a dynamic and reciprocal relationship with their environment and are in turn linked to the environments and people that spatially and temporally bind them. These coupled human–environment systems are complex, respond to disturbances in a nonlinear manner, are self-organizing, and evolve through time (Folke 2006). As such, responses to disturbances are not predictable or mechanistic; rather, they are process-oriented and organic, with feedbacks at multiple temporal and spatial scales leading to emergent properties (Folke 2006). The inherent complexity and dynamics of coupled social-ecological systems, including their heterogeneity over space and time, results in significant challenges for both understanding and responding to change (Carpenter et al. 2009). The arctic coastal social-ecological systems are an example of this complexity. They consist of wildlife, their habitats, and the northern coastal communities that directly rely on them for a range of provisioning (e.g., crab, fish, and marine mammals for food) and cultural services (e.g., traditional and spiritual practices). These systems are in a state of flux due to the rapid deterioration of arctic sea ice over the last decade. Reductions in sea ice are a function of complex climate forcing, which in turn affects numerous ecosystem services (Eicken et al. 2009). Climate models have been developed to project future climate or sea ice scenarios, most of which are large-scale (hemispheric) endeavors. However, when it comes to explaining or predicting social or ecological change at the geospatial scale of a human community, it is generally recognized that these models do not provide the full story 389

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(Laidler 2006). As Joelie Sanguya of Clyde River states: “It’s not that simple” (cited in Gearheard et al. 2006). Despite the complexity of processes within social-ecological systems, research over the past few decades has greatly advanced our ability to understand them. Through an awareness of interactions among the components of these systems and across scales, researchers may design studies that establish which suites of components and interactions tend to result in specific outcomes at specific scales (Ostrom 2009). Observable patterns within a social-ecological system may be used as “surrogates” of underlying, and consequently less visible, driving mechanisms (Carpenter et al. 2005). This generally requires long-term studies that are comparable across scales to capture the full spectrum of variation and interactions within and among systems (Liu et al. 2007; Ostrom 2009). However, few studies currently document the links between local and regional-scale social-ecological conditions in the coastal Arctic (Gearheard et al. 2006). Although subsistence in the Arctic integrates numerous factors associated with climate and ecosystem processes, these factors are mediated within the context of a suite of social, economic, cultural, and political factors. Consequently, from an analytical perspective, there are additional complexities to account for when trying to elucidate cause and effect between climate change and subsistence outcomes. For example, catches of walrus by a specific community are a function of at least the sea ice distribution (climate/sea ice relationships), abundance of walrus (biology), their proximity to that community (ecology), and the capacity of that community to catch them, which is a function of desire, skill, economics, and availability of alternate and perhaps more desired resources. Berteaux et al. (2006:156) suggest that “correlations between large-scale climatic variation and mammal populations can be used efficiently by researchers and managers in several ways.” One of these is to use observed patterns to generate testable hypotheses and then develop predictive or scenario-based models based on these findings. Carpenter et al. (2009:1307) also regard the use of such integrated models built from scratch to address specific questions “as essential for research, synthesis, and projection of the consequences of management actions.” Accordingly, we argue that by observing fine-resolution variability in the relationship between northern communities and subsistence resources, insights can be gained into the processes that govern how variability and change resulting from new climate patterns are expressed at the local scale. Observations of variables or surrogates of social-ecological interactions can be used to develop hypotheses that are tested in applied models or through statistical approaches to forecast future conditions. Such results may then be used to improve both our basic scientific understanding of these systems and to support resource management or community adaptation. However, Berteaux et al. (2006) caution

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scientists about the use of vague projections from conceptual and poorly validated models, and urge humility. Likewise, Gearheard et al. (2006) caution about the use of generalizations about sea ice environments that ignore local-scale variability. We argue that such humility and avoidance of broad generalizations can be accomplished through local adaptive learning approaches. By continuing to observe patterns that arise over space and time, models may incrementally be improved as new information is collected. In this contribution, we explore how an improved understanding of the health and function of the arctic system can be developed through observing of changes in the local relationship between ice-dependent species such as walrus and subsistence hunters. Second, we discuss how these types of observations can be used to help model system properties. We then emphasize the need to improve the value of information to both communities and resource managers. This requires developing more practical and iterative models that link communities, research, and policy. By doing so, we may more actively improve our understanding of the relationships between climate change, sea ice, wildlife population dynamics, and subsistence.

Establishing Measurable Indicators of Change Population abundance is often the basis for decision making in wildlife management (Caughley and Sinclair 1994; Williams et al. 2002). However, abundance of a wildlife population is an emergent function of complex system interactions. When collected in isolation of the other contextual factors in a social-ecological system, attributing population dynamics to specific drivers of change is often difficult, if not impossible. Furthermore, the actual process of population assessment for many species in the Arctic is challenging (Taylor et al. 2007). Such difficulties have prompted calls for an ecosystem indicators approach, which merges several indices more amenable to measurement to provide inferences about the mechanisms driving wildlife population dynamics (Robards et al. 2009). The involvement of local participants, especially indigenous experts, is of great value to an ecosystem-based program designed to monitor wildlife trends in the Arctic. Such approaches relying on local observers are now routine in many regions (Danielsen et al. 2008), and in some places such as Nunavut (Canada) they are required (Gearheard and Shirley 2007). Local involvement can help provide the detailed monitoring over seasons and years that is required for a long-term program seeking to understand the function of these systems (Gearheard et al. 2006; Metcalf and Robards 2008). Nevertheless, the “accuracy and precision of the monitoring undertaken by local communities in different situations needs further study,

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and field protocols need to be further developed to get the best from the unrealized potential of this approach” (Danielsen et al. 2008:32). Conversely, the accuracy of scientific results without adequate local groundtruthing and understanding has also been problematic. Western scientists and managers attempted to stop the Iñupiaq hunt of bowhead whales (Balaena mysticetus) because they thought, based on existing scientific knowledge, that the population was too small to support a hunt. However, they had not accounted for local Iñupiaq knowledge about whale ecology among the whalers who were most closely associated with those whales. Once that knowledge was incorporated, scientists and managers improved their understanding of whale ecology and population numbers, which ultimately produced a policy that was better grounded in solid science and, at the same time, oriented toward local needs (Albert 1988; Huntington 1989, 2000). Elsewhere, studies have directly compared local knowledge and traditional Western scientific approaches in a manner that improves understanding of their respective strengths and weaknesses (Lewis et al. 2009). Arctic sea ice habitats are ideal test cases to further explore viable approaches for the effective integration of science and local knowledge. Scientific observing systems are often challenged to acquire data about relevant variables at sufficient spatial-temporal resolution because of the logistic challenges posed by the presence of ice and the harsh environment. Community-based logistics and observations can contribute to the assessment of wildlife population dynamics, environmental risks, or the health of a particular resource (Eicken et al. 2009; O’Hara and O’Shea 2005). However, the benefits of local participation transcend the mere collection of new information; meaningful participation can contribute to the social fabric of a community as the people navigate and adapt to their changing environment. Local capacity can be built through nurturing trust and rapport in a monitoring program, which in turn can improve the working relationship between communities and government managers, a precursor to developing effective governance relationships (Gearheard and Shirley 2007). At least three research approaches that involve traditional science and local participation are common in the Arctic: 1. Incorporating local knowledge and expertise; 2. Measuring attributes of animals captured for subsistence; 3. Measuring attributes of the hunt.

Local Knowledge and Expertise Western scientific knowledge coupled with local observations and knowledge about marine mammals, sea ice, and weather or climate are ideal complements; if

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effective and appropriate conceptual bridges can be built between the two forms of expertise. This was the case for the bowhead whale migration described above, where subsistence hunts continue in conjunction with an increasing population and understanding of bowhead whales (Gerber et al. 2007). Research or management approaches that receive guidance from local knowledge can derive particular benefit from the fact that local knowledge is often highly effective in illuminating a causal chain between changes in climate, impacts on living marine resources, and the resultant changes in resource use patterns. One such example, of walrus hunters on St. Lawrence Island, Alaska, is discussed in more depth below. When describing change, conceptual bridges linking local knowledge and western science often involve interpretations of scale and temporal rates of change of knowledge, which can both be rectified if data are collected in an appropriate manner (Eicken et al. 2009; Krupnik and Ray 2007; Lewis et al. 2009). Communitybased monitoring programs utilizing local knowledge and observations can provide a range of metrics that are responsive to climate change. For example, hunters may observe and interpret changes in environmental conditions (Gearheard et al. 2006; George et al. 2003, 2004; Huntington 2000; Huntington et al. 2004; Laidler 2006; Oozeva et al. 2004), changes in species abundance or assemblages, and wildlife behavior (Grebmeier et al. 2006; Huntington 1989; Lewis et al. 2009; Noongwook et al. 2007) or health of animals (Harwood and Smith 2002). Although traditional ecological knowledge has been used to improve our understanding of ecosystem function in various contexts, several difficulties limit its wider application (Huntington 2000). Most prominent is the inertia that favors established scientific practices and the need to describe traditional ecological knowledge in western scientific terms. This is exacerbated by the multidisciplinary challenges presented by incorporating social-science methods to gather biological data from traditional ecological knowledge. Ironically, it is social-science methods such as semi-directive interviews, facilitated workshops, and collaborative field projects that hold some of the highest potential to gain local involvement in research activities. Finally, hunters not only help acquire and interpret local knowledge but also are invaluable in collecting complementary scientific data through their knowledge and expertise in local logistics and hunting. For example, the rapid escalation in use of advanced radio and satellite data tags on animals has benefited from hunters helping to locate and catch animals (e.g., Jay et al. 2006; MMC 2009).

Attributes of Animals Captured for Subsistence Rules governing the research of many large mammalian species, particularly marine mammals, usually preclude or strongly limit their lethal take by scientists.

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The use of subsistence-caught animals therefore provides unique opportunities for research not easily accomplished otherwise. Hunters have facilitated a wide array of efforts seeking to understand and monitor long-term changes in wildlife populations or their ecosystems, based on sampling of the animals they hunt. The value of long-term nurturing and maintenance of monitoring programs cannot be underestimated in terms of both the information gained and the cost-effectiveness of accomplishing research goals (Danielsen et al. 2008). A long-term tissue collection program (teeth and reproductive tracts) begun by the state of Alaska during the 1960s, and partially continued by US Fish and Wildlife Service, provides the most recent indications of change in age structure, productivity, and status of the Pacific walrus population (Garlich-Miller et al. 2006). Similarly, Harwood et al. (2002) present results from hunter-based monitoring of beluga whale catches over three decades in Canada’s western Arctic. More recently, Moses et al. (2009) describe an innovative program that merged Alaska Native interest in the nutritive value and safety of their local subsistence foods with wider scientific interest in wildlife health. Despite the potential advantages of locally based monitoring programs, many efforts do not reach their full potential for understanding social-ecological processes due to continued investment in more conventional single indices of change (such as population size). The long-term tissue collection program for walrus, for example, lacked attendant data on other aspects of the walrus population and environment (e.g., recruitment rates or age/gender-specific survival), environmental health and conditions, biases in hunter preferences, and different hunt management regimes. These were acknowledged to limit conclusions about the relationship between population size and the dynamic carrying capacity of the Beringia region. Nevertheless, with increased participation by hunters, such data are feasible and cost-effective to collect and could be used to improve the future utility of such data over time (Robards et al. 2009).

Attributes of the Hunt The Arctic has profound seasonal patterns driving dramatic migrations by several important subsistence species. A few recent studies have integrated long-term data on the timing of hunts, and on occasion attendant ice conditions, to try and establish what conditions favor or hinder hunting. The assumption in these studies is generally that the timing and success of the hunt can be linked to the local abundance and ecology of a target species. Krupnik and Bogoslovskaya (1999) demonstrated that the varying spring position and later northern retreat of seasonal pack ice led to differing walrus migration patterns and hunting success in Chukotka (Russian Federation). During the

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warmer period of the 1930s and 1940s, communities in northern Chukotka seemed to have greater success at walrus hunting in the years when southern areas were doing poorly and vice versa. More recently, Kapsch et al. (2010) jointly analyzed Pacific walrus subsistence data, weather data, and satellite observations of sea ice to assess the range of environmental conditions that is optimal for hunting success at St. Lawrence Island (Alaska). Their work suggested that changes or variability in ice conditions for a specific region can have different impacts on specific communities due to the role of local factors in controlling access to ice-associated mammals. Benter and Robards (2009) took the statutorily required marking and tagging data (tags are used to control the flow of raw walrus ivory) to demonstrate a shortening of the hunting season at two primarily walrus hunting villages, and an increase in successful winter walrus hunting, providing inferences about both walrus ecology and community adaptation. Finally, Robards (2008) analyzed the spring Pacific walrus hunt in Alaska, which is monitored through direct observation in a few Alaska communities. Results from almost fifty years of such observations on hunt timing and success were assessed under four different environmental regimes. While Robards (2008) identified a climate-change signal in hunting success, the strongest signal was the result of changing social conditions that reduced the ability of a community to adapt to more difficult hunting conditions. Continued efforts to model linkages between changing subsistence patterns and environmental conditions will be needed to better understand the correlations between the two. Confounding factors such as weather conditions, particularly wind, will need to be better addressed. Based on data from the bowhead whale hunt at Barrow (1990–1997), George et al. (2003) found that success is greatly influenced by wind direction and speed (along with ice cover in spring). In their case, such scientific observations agreed well with hunters’ predictions.

Modeling Linkages between Climate Change, Sea Ice, Marine Mammals, and Subsistence Each of the three research approaches we discuss above provides opportunities to develop variables or surrogates of social-ecological function for future modeling efforts about the impacts of climate change. Researchers can use the data provided as inputs for models of future trends in productivity of a species, or the likelihood of suitable hunting conditions. By combining such models with observations or forecasts of environmental conditions, and then integrating contemporaneous local observations of the health and condition of resources, or conditions of the hunt, such near-real-time information may help assess anomalous conditions and provide a foundation for management decisions.

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The 2007 retreat of summer sea ice was extremely pronounced, with the ice edge retreating far northward of the shelf break in the Alaska sector of the Arctic (Fig. 5.6.1). Rapid ice retreat through the Bering Strait reduced access for Alaska Native hunters to ice floes harboring walrus and ice seals, but it also left juvenile walrus and their mothers struggling to remain with the ice edge as it retreated over the deep arctic basin. Manifestations of this were high calf mortality and reduced condition of female walrus during the summer and fall. The anomalous nature of 2007 and 2008 from a perspective of spring subsistence hunting and access to walrus is illustrated in Figure 5.6.2, which is based on work by Kapsch et al. (2010) modeling favorable hunting conditions for walrus hunters in Gambell, St. Lawrence Island. For normal years, in which ice conditions behave predictably, we would expect a potentially good hunting year to fall on the line somewhere at the top left, and a poor year somewhere near the bottom right. The years 2007 and 2008 represent very poor conditions, with 2008 showing the lowest number of favorable hunting days over the past three decades, a finding confirmed by Gambell hunters (Kapsch et al. 2010). The data summarized in Figure 5.6.2 for Gambell also indicate a general trend toward fewer days with favorable hunting conditions, with a decrease from on average fifty per year in 1980–1982 to thirty-one per year in 2006–2008. However, at the same time hunters indicate that through adaptation to milder winter conditions and development of a winter walrus hunt, communities may be able to offset at least some of these reductions in resource access. The value of simple models, such as the one represented in Figure 5.6.2, is that they may be developed to serve as indicators of hunting success that results from changes in ecology (e.g., narrower window in which to hunt) or social factors (e.g., ability to hunt over longer distances). By doing so, models may be designed to link poor years to potentially less selective hunting, greater distances traveled by hunters, greater potential risk during a shortened time window for the hunt, and potential impacts of ice conditions on walrus. While the latter is not addressed directly here, similar models can be developed that could help make this link, for example, the rate of ice retreat to recruitment and survival of juvenile walrus or the distance of the summer ice edge beyond the shelf break to access to benthic food sources. Such indicator variables or surrogates may also provide important information about local and regional variability in key ecological processes.

Developing New Decision Rules Once effective and robust indicator variables or models of linkages between resources, hunting activities, and environmental change have been developed, they

Management of Living Marine Resources a.

b.

Figure 5.6.1. The 2007 sea ice edge during (a) spring and (b) summer (red lines), compared to the “normal” (median) ice edge (dotted black lines). Note the unusually rapid and far northward retreat of sea ice between May and June, with record low extent in September. After August the ice edge had retreated to above the shelf break (darker blue), limiting use of sea ice by walrus as a feeding platform in water shallower than 100 meters to a few remnant fragments.

397

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Figure 5.6.2. Number of days on which sea ice concentration (SIC) was interpreted as “favorable” for walrus hunting in Gambell, St. Lawrence Island (vertical axis), plotted against the anomaly (difference from normal, i.e., mean, conditions) in ice concentration for spring of 1980 through 2008 (figure based on Kapsch et al. 2010). Data from the 1980s are shown as open triangles, from the 1990s as closed circles, and from the 2000s as closed squares.

can serve an important function as the basis for developing decision rules in ecosystem-based management (Robards et al. 2009; Rosenberg and Sandifer 2009). Implementation of an observing system that is responsive to resource managers’ information needs would be an important step toward effective ecosystem-based management approaches for arctic species such as walrus. Rules based on sets of suitable indicator variables could help foster management directives and decision making under uncertainty, which in turn promotes a policy that is responsive to a changing or highly variable environment. By developing indicators in conjunction with communities, greater legitimacy in rules may be nurtured, which is seen by many as essential for them to be effectively implemented. Learning is now regarded as an essential part of a management or governance regime that seeks to be responsive to a changing environment (Rosenberg and

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Sandifer 2009). Management rules in the changing Arctic should especially foster learning to better understand biases in a specific indicator, or to allow revisions to policy if the indicator is not an effective tool. For example, an indicator (such as population size) may change faster than we can acquire and analyze sufficient data to adequately inform decision making. Heavy mortality of young walruses and poor condition of females in recent years during extreme ice retreats presumably affects recruitment and productivity, but is not accounted for in a management program premised on decadal population assessments (Robards et al. 2009). Alternatively, changing ice conditions and distribution of walrus present different suites of communities with opportunities to hunt, which alters the management landscape. In this case, rules based on expected distributions of walrus in a given year may be needed. The need for rules that are appropriate and measurable at specific scales has been a primary driver in the development of multilevel governance approaches such as co-management, as well as adaptive forms that increase opportunities for learning (Berkes 2009). Recognizing the benefits that such approaches can offer for learning and adaptively managing wildlife in a rapidly changing environment is vital if we are to understand how to respond effectively.

Conclusions Although precise prediction of the emergent attributes of future arctic ecosystem conditions is unlikely, we can still gain a better understanding of the processes and conditions that affect wildlife. By working with the communities of people most closely associated with a resource, observations and projections of key indicator variables may be integrated into ecosystem-based management approaches. As we have suggested, such work will greatly benefit from the meaningful involvement of local communities in both research and management (see also Jones et al. 2008; Metcalf and Robards 2008). Models can be developed that incorporate local knowledge, the conditions expected to affect target wildlife species, or factors that affect the success of hunts. We argue for an approach that requires such models to be developed, but then tested and improved each year in a manner that allows assumptions and predictions to be iteratively tested and built upon. Such a program would likely improve the acquisition of critically needed scientific information in a time of rapid environmental change, provide capacity building in the communities subjected to the repercussions of these changes, and improve communication between scientists, managers, and resource users. These are prerequisites for effective governance of natural resources in a rapidly changing Arctic.

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References Albert, T. F. 1988. The role of the North Slope Borough in Arctic environmental research. Arctic Research of the United States 2, 17–23. Benter, B., and M. D. Robards. 2009. Subsistence walrus harvest trends in the Bering Strait. 18th Biennial Conference on the Biology of Marine Mammals. 12–16 October. Quebec, Canada. Berkes, F. 2009. Evolution of co-management: Role of knowledge generation, bridging organizations and social learning. Journal of Environmental Management 90, 1692–1702. Berteaux, D., M. M. Humphries, C. J. Krebs, M. Lima, A. G. McAdam, N. Pettorelli, D. Réale, T. Saitoh, E. Tkadlec, R. B. Weladji, and N. Chr. Stenseth. 2006. Constraints to projecting the effects of climate change on mammals. Climate Research 32, 151–158. Carpenter, S. R., H. A. Mooney, J. Agard, D. Capistrano, R. S. DeFries, S. Díaz, T. Dietz, A. K. Duraiappah, A. Oteng-Yeboah, H. M. Pereira, C. Perrings, W. V. Reid, J. Sarukhan, R. J. Scholes, and A. Whyte. 2009. Science for managing ecosystem services: Beyond the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) 106(5), 1305–1312. Carpenter, S. R., F. Westley, and M. G. Turner. 2005. Surrogates for resilience of socialecological systems. Ecosystems 8, 941–944. Caughley, G., and A. R. E. Sinclair. 1994. Wildlife ecology and management. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Science. Danielsen, F., N. D. Burgess, A. Balmford, P. F. Donald, M. Funder, J. P. G. Jones, P. Alviola, D. S. Balete, T. Blomley, J. Brashares, B. Child, M. Enghoff, J. Fjeldsa, S. Holt, H. Hübertz, A. E. Jensen, P. M. Jensen, J. Massao, M. M. Mendoza, Y. Ngaga, M. K. Poulsen, R. Rueda, M. Sam, T. Skielboe, G. Stuart-Hill, E. Topp-Jørgensen, and D. Yonten. 2008. Local participation in natural resource monitoring: A characterization of approaches. Conservation Biology 23(1), 31–42. Eicken, H., A. L. Lovecraft, and M. Druckenmiller. 2009. Sea-ice system services: A framework to help identify and meet information needs relevant for Arctic observing networks. Arctic 62, 119–136. Folke, C. 2006. Resilience: The emergence of a perspective for social-ecological system analysis. Global Environmental Change 16, 253–267. Garlich-Miller, J. L., L. T. Quakenbush, and J. F. Bromaghin. 2006. Trends in age structure and productivity of Pacific walruses harvested in the Bering Strait region of Alaska, 1952–2002. Marine Mammal Science 22(4), 880–896. Gearheard, S., W. Matumeak, I. Angutikjuaq, J. Maslanik, H. P. Huntington, J. Leavitt, D. M. Kagak, G. Tigullaraq, and R. G. Barry. 2006. “It’s not that simple”: A collaborative comparison of sea ice environments, their uses, observed changes, and

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adaptations in Barrow, Alaska, USA, and Clyde River, Nunavut, Canada. Ambio 35(4), 203–211. Gearheard, S., and J. Shirley. 2007. Challenges in community-research relationships: Learning from natural science in Nunavut. Arctic 60(1), 62–74. George, J. C., S. Braund, H. Brower Jr., C. Nicolson, and T. M. O’Hara. 2003. Some observations on the influence of environmental conditions on the success of hunting bowhead whales off Barrow, Alaska. In Indigenous ways to the present: Native whaling in the Western Arctic. Edited by A. P. McCartney. Studies in Whaling Number 6, Salt Lake City, UT: Canadian Circumpolar Institute Press. George, J. C., H. P. Huntington, K. Brewster, H. Eicken, D. W. Norton, and R. Glenn. 2004. Observations on shorefast ice dynamics in Arctic Alaska and responses of the Iñupiat hunting community. Arctic 57(4), 363–374. Gerber, L. R., A. C. Keller, and D. P. DeMaster. 2007. Ten thousand and increasing: Is the western Arctic population of bowhead whale endangered? Biological Conservation 137, 577–583. Grebmeier, J. M., J. E. Overland, S. E. Moore, E. V. Farley, E. C. Carmack, L. W. Cooper, K. E. Frey, J. H. Helle, F. A. McLaughlin, and S. L. McNutt. 2006. A major ecosystem shift in the northern Bering Sea. Science 311, 1461–1464. Harwood, L. A., P. Norton, B. Day, and P. A. Hall. 2002. The harvest of beluga whales in Canada’s Western Arctic: Hunter-based monitoring of the size and composition of the catch. Arctic 55(1), 10–20. Harwood, L. A., and T. G. Smith. 2002. Whales of the Inuvialuit settlement region in Canada’s western Arctic: An overview and outlook. Arctic 55(1), 77–93. Huntington, H. P. 1989. The Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission: Effective local management of a subsistence resource. PhD dissertation. Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK. Huntington, H. P. 2000. Using traditional ecological knowledge in science: Methods and applications. Ecological Applications 10(5), 1270–1274. Huntington, H., T. Callaghan, S. Fox, and I. Krupnik. 2004. Matching traditional and scientific observations to detect environmental change: A discussion on Arctic terrestrial ecosystems. Ambio 13, 18–23. Jay, C. V., M. P. Heide-Jørgensen, A. S. Fischbach, M. V. Jensen, D. F. Tessler, and V. Jensen. 2006. Comparison of remotely deployed satellite radio transmitters on walruses. Marine Mammal Science 22, 226–236. Jones, A., B. Barnett, A. J. Williams, J. Grayson, S. Busilacchi, A. Duckworth, E. EvansIllidge, G. A. Begg, and C. D. Murchie. 2008. Effective communication tools to engage Torres Strait Islanders in scientific research. Continental Shelf Research 28, 2350–2356. Kapsch, M.-L., H. Eicken, and M. Robards. 2010. Sea ice distribution and ice use by indigenous walrus hunters on St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. In SIKU: Knowing our

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ice: Documenting Inuit sea ice knowledge and use. Edited by I. Krupnik, C. Aporta, S. Gearheard, L. Kielsen Holm, and G. Laidler. New York: Springer. Krupnik, I., and L. Bogoslovskaya. 1999. Old records, new stories: Ecosystem variability and subsistence hunting pressure in the Bering Strait area. Arctic Research of the United States 13, 15–24. Krupnik, I., and G. C. Ray. 2007. Pacific walruses, indigenous hunters, and climate change: Bridging scientific and indigenous knowledge. Deep-Sea Research 54(23–26), 2946–2957. Laidler, G. J. 2006. Inuit and scientific perspectives on the relationship between sea ice and climate change: The ideal complement? Climatic Change 78, 407–444. Lewis, A. E., M. O. Hammill, M. Power, D. W. Doidge, and V. Lesage. 2009. Movement and aggregation of Eastern Hudson Bay beluga whales (Delphinapterus leucas): A comparison of patterns found through satellite telemetry and Nunavik traditional ecological knowledge. Arctic 62(1), 13–24. Liu, J., T. Dietz, S. R. Carpenter, M. Alberti, C. Folke, E. Moran, A. N. Pell, P. Deadman, T. Kratz, J. Lubchenco, E. Ostrom, Z. Ouyang, W. Provencher, C. L. Redman, S. H. Schneider, and W. W. Taylor. 2007. Complexity of coupled human and natural systems. Science 317, 1513–1516. Marine Mammal Commission (MMC). 2009. Annual Report to Congress 2008. Washington DC. Metcalf, V., and M. D. Robards. 2008. Sustaining a healthy human-walrus relationship in a dynamic environment: Challenges for co-management. Ecological Applications 18(2), S148-S156. Moses, S. K., A. V. Whiting, G. R. Bratton, R. J. Taylor, and T. M. O’Hara. 2009. Inorganic nutrients and contaminants in subsistence species of Alaska: Linking wildlife and human health. International Journal of Circumpolar Health 68(1), 53–74. Noongwook, G., The Native Village of Savoonga, The Native Village of Gambell, H. P. Huntington, and J. C. George. 2007. Traditional knowledge of bowhead whale (Balaena mysticetus) around St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. Arctic 60(1), 47–54. O’Hara, T. M., and T. J. O’Shea. 2005. Assessing impacts of environmental contaminants. In Marine mammal research: Conservation beyond crisis. Edited by J. E. Reynolds III, W. F. Perrin, R. R. Reeves, S. Montgomery, and T. J. Ragen. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Oozeva, C., C. Noongwook, G. Noongwook, C. Alowa, and I. Krupnik. 2004. Watching ice and weather our way. Arctic Studies Center, Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC. Ostrom, E. 2009. A general framework for analyzing the sustainability of social-ecological systems. Science 325(5939), 419–422. Robards, M. D. 2008. Perspectives on the dynamic human-walrus relationship. Unpublished dissertation. University of Alaska, Fairbanks.

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Robards, M. D., J. J. Burns, C. L. Meek, and A. Watson. 2009. Limitations of the optimum sustainable population or potential biological removal approaches for conservation management of marine mammals: Pacific walrus case study. Journal of Environmental Management 91, 57–66. Rosenberg, A. A., and P. A. Sandifer. 2009. What do managers need? In Ecosystem-based management for the oceans. Edited by K. McLeod and H. Leslie. Washington DC: Island Press. Taylor, B. L., M. Martinez, T. Gerrodette, J. Barlow, and Y. N. Hrovat. 2007. Lessons from monitoring trends in abundance of marine mammals. Marine Mammal Science 23(1), 157–175. Williams, B. K., J. D. Nichols, and M. J. Conroy. 2002. Analysis and management of animal populations. San Diego, CA: Academic Press.

Sections 5 and 6 both address Arctic marine waters, but while the former focuses on the living components in the system, the latter is tied to physical infrastructure, traffic, and security in the region. As the latter half of this volume makes evident, people have intensively used circumpolar waters for hundreds of years for whaling, fishing, scientific exploration, and most recently hydrocarbon extraction. Over the coming century, the projected shrinking of the summer sea ice cover and increased demand for Arctic resources implies that these activities will increase. This will bring competing interests into closer physical and sociopolitical contact as different industries, interest groups, and governments seek to exploit the potential biological and mineral wealth of the circumpolar north. They will do so alongside thousands of small northern communities seeking to ensure their own futures in the face of the interconnected transformations highlighted in Section 1. The Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment (AMSA 2009) documented maritime activities in the Arctic from a 2004 baseline and made future projections in relation to environmental protection, marine infrastructure, human dimensions, and governance. It was a product of the Arctic Council’s working group for the Protection of the Arctic Marine Environment (PAME). The release of this document coincided with growing national concern in the United States (and among the other arctic nations) over the ability of national and subnational governments to manage circumpolar marine traffic safely, in an environmentally sound manner, and with the capacity to ensure national sovereignty in remote locations. Section 6 directly addresses these concerns from a broad range of perspectives. Following the introduction are several chapters informed by the US Coast Guard, a branch of the armed services operating under the Department of Homeland Security, which has an explicit maritime law enforcement mission. As tourism, industry, and travel begin to expand into the harsh environment of the Arctic Ocean, it is the Coast Guard that will largely oversee such maritime activities. But it can only perform its duties as guided and contained by the applicable legal regimes. The chapters in Section 6 demonstrate that while documents such as the Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA 2004) and Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment (Arctic Council 2009) can establish scientific facts and indicate future trends, it is society itself that must create behavior patterns to manage social-ecological systems for human well-being. From the local to international levels this is largely achieved through the creation of rules. Suites of rule sets that prohibit or encourage behavior are generally referred to by social scientists as institutions. On the one hand, it will be governments that shape institutional arrangements to provide for safety of civilian and non-civilian activities in the circumpolar waters, as well as protect the marine environment. But on the other hand, any new institutions will only be effective if they have access to timely data related to their mandates and enforcement capacity for implementation. Can the physical and information infrastructure of the Alaska region be expanded and upgraded to manage the influx of public and private interests? This question is directly related to another: To what extent will altered or new institutions be shaped by the diverse interests of the north? The final

two chapters in this section address these concerns. Haley and coauthors review the need for inclusion of multiple stakeholder perspectives that may vary widely on perceptions of risk, costs, and benefits. Mueller-Stoffels and Eicken follow with an innovative way to build scenarios that can help the diverse stakeholders of this region consider their strategies for the future related to transportation. The concerns of this section span the practical needs of the people who focus on, among other things, search and rescue to the discussion of planning for new rule sets for management in northern waters. These subjects dovetail nicely with Section 7, which addresses the activities of oil and gas development—a subject that directly intersects issues of safety, infrastructure, and regulations to protect ecosystems.

References Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming Arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Arctic Council. 2009. Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 Report. Arctic Council.

6

Marine Infrastructure and Transportation

Section editor: Andrew Metzger

PLATE 006 Boat Rocker Alvin Amason Oil on wood and canvas 5' x 6' 2009

6.1

Introduction by andrew metzger

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his section is focused on issues surrounding an anticipated increase in marine transportation activity in northern arctic and subarctic waters. Two concerns are foremost for those who use these waters for transportation and subsistence: safety in the context of lifesafety and hazards to the environment, and security in the context of search-andrescue as well as enforcement. Considering increased marine transportation from the perspective of safety and security brings to light the gravity of an environment with increased vessel traffic where there had been previously very little. Section 6 provides this perspective on a change in marine transportation in northern waters. In this section, we are fortunate to have perspectives from officers of the United States Coast Guard (USCG), District 17, which has responsibilities that include Alaska waters, in particular the US arctic waters off the North Slope of Alaska. Chapter 6.2 gives a history of the USCG in Alaska from Lisa Ragone, an author with more than nineteen years of experience as a US Coast Guard officer. Ragone’s historical insight into the challenges of effective search-and-rescue operations as well as enforcement sets the stage for the following discussions of present and future challenges. Chapter 6.3 by Rick Button and Amber S. Ward continues in this spirit, discussing the challenges of search-and-rescue (SAR) operations in US northern waters. Increased shipping volume will be a challenge to those operating in these waters given the current lack of available infrastructure and SAR assets. New modes of marine usage, such as commercial fishing and recreational cruises, will exacerbate SAR concerns. Furthermore, there is a dearth of SAR experience in this environment. Chapter 6.3 also outlines the obligations of the United States, under international practice, for establishing SAR capabilities. The case is made that governmental support is requisite for the USCG to fulfill its mandated role in northern waters.

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In Chapter 6.4, Maureen Johnson discusses traffic management in the Bering Strait, a natural shipping bottleneck into northern waters. Understanding shipping in this particular location illustrates the need to plan carefully when defining safe shipping corridors. If vessel traffic volumes increase and become more commonplace, “traffic controls” in accordance with international practice, to which the United States is subject, shall become necessary for safe conduct through northern passages. Chapter 6.5 by Nicole Mölders et al. presents a rigorous technical discussion on the potential impact of increased shipping in southwestern Alaska. This section presents research on how vessel emissions have altered and are likely to continue to affect the chemistry of Alaska waters in their passage. The potential impact of unrestricted ship emissions should be apparent to readers. Chapter 6.6 confronts the issue of stakeholder involvement in governance of US northern waters. Sharman Haley and coauthors describe how, historically, governance of the oceans has occurred in a way that is fragmented along jurisdictional boundaries. And, in the US Arctic, local stakeholders (e.g., indigenous populations) should be central in the decision-making process. This section proposes an ecosystem-based approach to ocean governance that includes adequate representation of all stakeholders who may be affected. This proposal is motivated by increased human activities in the North, climate change, and an increased awareness of the negative ecological impacts that have occurred with the historical approach to governance. The authors argue that the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas are a potential proving ground for this form of governance as these areas have not been as altered to the degree of most temperate seas. In Chapter 6.7, Marc Mueller-Stoffels and Hajo Eicken explore the future of marine transportation in northern waters. The future cannot be known precisely, but the authors attempt, in a rigorous way, to identify plausible and likely future scenarios as viewed from the present. From these results, it may be possible to synthesize a better defined scope of both the breadth and depth of challenges ahead should marine transportation become commonplace in northern seas. In its entirety, Section 6 should appreciably enhance the reader’s perspective of the challenges likely to be encountered with escalation of marine transportation in northern waters.

6.2

A Historical Perspective on the United States Coast Guard Presence in the Arctic by lisa ragone

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hat is the Arctic? The answer to this question differs depending on what scientific perspective one chooses to use and for what reasons. It may also depend on which resources one is trying to access. In the United States Coast Guard (USCG), a person might think that the Arctic is everything north of the Aleutian Chain. Some have also considered the Arctic everything north of 65°N latitude, but this is not strictly the case. The geophysical reality, as discovered by Serbian climatologist Milutan Milankovitch, is that the lines on charts that define both the Arctic and Antarctic circles actually shift over time based on changes in the earth’s axis. This means that from one year to the next, the circles encompassing either pole could fluctuate up to 50 feet (Aurora Webmasters 1997). While no political borders currently rely on the position of these lines, they demonstrate the fluidity boundaries can have. In recent years the interest in this region has grown greatly, in particular in the branches of the US government governing the oceans such as the US Coast Guard (USCG), Navy, and agencies such as the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA). Discussion in this section will be framed in terms of the Arctic and subarctic regions, using the following general definitions. The Arctic will be everything north of Port Clarence (just south of the Bering Strait), and the subarctic will be everything north of 50°N latitude. This chapter stems from the perspective of a member of the Coast Guard and focuses on the history of the USCG in the Arctic and subarctic regions off the coast of Alaska. It explains the difficulties of potential expanded operations in these regions given the current rate of climatic

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change affecting the marine environment. The map in Figure 6.2.1 shall be used for reference. I was first stationed in Alaska in the summer of 2006, after serving more than fifteen years in the USCG. I had a basic understanding of the operations the USCG undertook in Alaska, having worked offshore of the Aleutians and in the Bering Sea and Bristol Bay on the cutter USCGC Active (a cutter is a ship greater than 65 feet and is referred to as USCGC) during the summer of 1994. During that time, my ship had port calls in Juneau, Seward, Kodiak, and Dutch Harbor and spent a good deal of time conducting law enforcement boardings on vessels participating in federal fisheries. However, we did not travel north of the Arctic Circle or across the International Date Line. While all of the USCG units have the same responsibilities in the Lower Forty-eight as in Alaska and Hawaii, those outside of the contiguous states do not have the same amount of resources on which to draw to complete those missions. In other words, one of the challenges faced by the USCG in Alaska is what a former district commander liked to call “the tyranny of distance.” When bad things happen in the Far North, they are not conveniently located near our existing logistical bases.

Figure 6.2.1. Map of Alaska and surrounding region.

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Our largest logistical base within the Alaska region is on Kodiak Island. As of 2010 we have two major cutters (USCGC Munro, a high-endurance 378-foot ship, and USCGC Alex Haley, a medium-endurance 283-foot ship) and one buoy tender (USCGC Spar, a 225-foot ship) home-ported there at the Base Support Unit in Old Woman’s Bay. Air Station Kodiak is composed of five C-130 (Hercules), four MH-60 ( Jayhawk), and four HH-65 (Dolphin) airframes. It serves the western and central Gulf of Alaska as well as the Bering Sea and the Arctic. There are 828 air miles between Kodiak and Prudhoe Bay and 1,760 nautical miles of surface transit between Kodiak and Barrow. At a standard fuel-saving transit speed of 12 knots, it would take a cutter six days to get from Kodiak to Barrow. In an emergency situation, they would transit at a faster speed if possible, but they may have to stop in Nome to refuel to allow them to sustain their operations once reaching their destination. There has been a battle for resources between the coasts of the United States. The situation on the eastern coast is somewhat different. Small boat stations and lighthouses were originally placed along the coast relatively close to one another, as their lifesavers relied on oar power to reach the victims of shipwrecks and other maritime disasters. The congressional delegation from Massachusetts has been successful in keeping a small seasonal station in business for what might be considered a 222-year run.

Historical Perspective As this volume is published, the USCG can claim more than 220 years of continuous existence. This is due to the history of many of the precursor organizations that were brought together into what we now know as the USCG. The USCG was actually established in 1915, when the US Lifesaving Service and the US Revenue Cutter Service were merged to create a new portion of the armed forces. Lighthouses were run by the colonies, and later states, from 1716 to 1789, at which point they came under the administration of the Treasury Department. The Revenue Cutter Service began in 1790 under Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, who is considered the father of the USCG. The Lifesaving Service operated under the Treasury Department starting in 1848. The Lighthouse Service merged with the Steamboat Inspection Service in 1903 and moved to the Department of Commerce. The Steamboat Inspection Service was established in 1838, added the Bureau of Navigation to its responsibilities in 1848, and eventually became part of the USCG in 1942 (Krietemeyer 1991). All of these entities bring different skill sets to the current USCG portfolio. Much of what the Revenue Cutter Service and the Lighthouse Service did in the Arctic in the first few decades after Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867

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would fall under the current Marine Safety, Law Enforcement and Search and Rescue missions. Transportation issues quickly arose. By 1805 there was already a functioning lighthouse in Sitka with a seal oil lamp and reflector, but when the United States took over in 1867 the US Army was not able to secure federal funding to add this light to the register the Lighthouse Board was required to maintain. It was officially decommissioned, but the Army continued to operate the light for the next ten years (Noble 1991). This is just another case in which the distance from Washington DC made the need for resources seem less urgent. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the Revenue Cutter Bear, commanded by Captain Mike Healy, spent hundreds of days underway in the Bering, Chukchi, and Beaufort Seas, primarily in the spring through autumn. Bear and her crew of approximately fifty men were virtually the only federal presence in western and rural Alaska during the days before the gold rush. They delivered mail, transported prisoners, and served as a floating court, among other routine duties. The arctic fleet was initially home-ported in California, but it operated out of Unalaska Island in the summer months. As an ambitious young officer, Mike Healy moved up the ranks working on vessels that spent much of their time trying to prevent illegal seal hunting (O’Toole 1997). Northern fur seals were first described scientifically by Georg Wilhelm Steller. In the mid-eighteenth century, Russians began harvesting these animals, principally for their pelts. They also enslaved the Native Alaskans residing on the Pribilof Islands to assist in this task. After the purchase of Alaska by the United States, the commercial harvest of fur seals was continued, further depleting the food resources available to the local peoples (NMFS 2007). As the seal resources diminished, Captain Healy observed that the Inuit and Aleut villagers he visited were having trouble sustaining themselves over the long winter. He noticed that people in Siberia were herding domesticated reindeer and he decided to enlist the aid of indigenous herders to transport some animals to Alaska (O’Toole 1997). This project began in 1891 and continued through 1906. Among some Native Alaskans it earned Healy lifelong admiration. In the first few decades of the twentieth century, as the gold rush was in full swing, passenger vessel traffic increased dramatically. Gold had to be transported to Seattle and people wanted to travel to Alaska to “stake their claim.” Involved in a different type of commercial transport, the Star of Falkland was a square rigged sailing vessel owned by the Alaska Packer’s Association. This vessel carried canned salmon back to the Lower Forty-eight. On May 22, 1928, she went aground in Unimak Pass (Fig. 6.2.2). More than three hundred passengers were rescued by three USCG related ships: Haida, Cedar, and Unalga. This scenario is the one most likely to be duplicated in the Arctic in the near term, as we could receive an influx of non–ice hardened hulled ships operating in our region.

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Figure 6.2.2. Star of Falkland foundering near Unimak Pass, with USCGC Haida and the Lighthouse Tender Cedar in the background, preparing to receive survivors. Painting by Tom Hall.

Alongside the diminishing ice cover of the Arctic Ocean due to climate change is increased activity in the region. If oil exploration in the Arctic and subarctic proceeds as currently projected, and the search for undersea resources and adventure cruises to the region continue to increase, there will be an increased need for USCG presence throughout the region.

Preparing for the Way Ahead In the past few years the USCG has been making forays into the Arctic in ways that they have not done in recent years. Following are some examples: •

Arctic Domain Awareness flights survey the North Slope region from late March through December.

•

Maritime Boundary Line (MBL) flights deploy from Nome or Kotzebue to shorten transit time to the US disputed maritime boundary with Russia, where large factory trawlers operate for more than half the year.

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• •

•

Participation in the meetings of the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission allows planners to ensure that vessel, aircraft, and shore activities do not interfere with subsistence hunting or animal migration patterns. Non-polar breaker cutters are patrolling in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas to prepare for anticipated future roles in law enforcement, waterways management, search and rescue, and pollution response, which will come with increased vessel traffic in the region. Small boats, aircraft, and boating safety education teams have conducted operations in Barrow and Nome in the summers of 2008 and 2009, respectively.

In all the activities listed above, either the “tyranny of distance,” unfamiliarity with the political landscape, or the lack of port or city infrastructure was clearly felt: • • •

• •

Cutters that would normally pull into port to resupply with food and water had to employ their helicopters to pick up palletized supplies when the port did not have facilities to support docking. Small boats that are usually put in the water using a truck/trailer and boat ramp could not be safely deployed from the rocky beaches off Barrow. (Locals use a large tractor with a forklift to deploy their boats.) A communications team with mobile satellite dishes and HF/UHF antennae arrays had to get permission not only from the airport where they planned to erect their equipment, but the mayor, tribal council, and Economic Development Corporation as well. Boating safety specialists worked with an equipment manufacturer to supply white float coats to whalers/hunters so they would blend in with the ice and snow and not scare off prey. Limited hangar space meant USCG, Air Force, and National Guard helicopters had to be exposed to the environment when they were not undergoing major repairs.

In spite of these activities, in the near future the USCG will continue to operate in a limited fashion with existing resources in the Arctic. Many of the local communities were glad to see an increased USCG presence in the last few years because they assumed that this meant a possible influx of federal funds. Minor inflows of money to local businesses have been realized in housing and feeding the temporary crews, but the USCG does not have any major arctic infrastructure plans on the drawing board. The USCG Research and Development Center has engaged a firm to help conduct a high latitude study to delineate the disparities between the logistical support we have now and what we might need in the

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future. The Government Accountability Office has also embarked on an audit of the USCG’s arctic missions. Both of these efforts may result in increased funding, but that will not be clear for several years. Given current fiscal cuts for USCG and the present world financial crisis, this money does not seem likely to flow in the near future. Science and policy are still evolving in the Arctic, but these are necessary precursors to effective regulations. Some regulations are already in place because the USCG’s statutory authority is the same in the Arctic as it is in the Lower Fortyeight, Hawaii, and all US territories. Other regulations have not yet been developed. The USCG, like most federal agencies, puts much more money into response than into prevention. In the USCG, we always refer to our field units (cutters, aircraft, marine inspectors, pollution responders, small boat operators, training teams) as being at the pointy end of the spear. Figure 6.2.3 demonstrates an interpretation of the funding process for the USCG’s arctic missions. The science block could be seen as a “customer needs” category, or a cataclysmic event such as the grounding of the Exxon Valdez, which expanded the USCG’s billet structure and resources in the 1990s. The process starts with an issue that needs to be addressed and ends with the public servants trying to fulfill the spirit of the law as part of their interactions, for example, with fishers, boaters needing to be rescued, and shore-side facilities. I chose science as the beginning of the funding process because my current job is fisheries enforcement. The Arctic Fishery Management Plan is in place, but there will not be much of anything to enforce until research indicates that there are commercially sustainable fish stocks available for harvest. Sometimes the people at the pointy end of the spear are heralded as lifesavers, and sometimes they are maligned as the long arm of the law, but they are always at the pointy end of the spear. My current job is to make sure that the people who are proposing new regulations (specifically, the North Pacific Fishery Management

Figure 6.2.3. Life at the pointy end of the spear.

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Council) understand how new regulations make things easier, harder, or impossible to enforce for the USCG members at the pointy end of the spear. We would all like to believe that our government is more interested in preventing problems than cleaning up the mess, but the truth is that politicians often do not think we (the taxpayer) are willing to bear the cost of prevention. They make the same sort of risk vs. reward calculations that the USCG teaches their operational commanders to make before engaging in dangerous activities. For example, is it worth sending a helicopter crew out in bad weather on a routine law enforcement patrol, or should that mission be cancelled so that the same airframe is available should mariners’ lives be at risk somewhere in the vicinity? The projectile at the pointy end of the spear terminates in what I am calling the USCG-to-customer interface. That interface is further elucidated in Figure 6.2.4. Once the regulations appear in the Code of Federal Regulations, the USCG hierarchy has to make sure that there is appropriate doctrine, training, and infrastructure to properly support the USCG people who are going to interact with the public. These elements are the same across all USCG missions, and when one or more of these is not sufficiently resourced to accomplish the mission, either the customer or the front line public servants are the ones who suffer. In the long term, it appears that the United States is going to need to ratify the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea before the USCG sees any significant arctic funding. Once this is done, and the United States makes its claim for

Figure 6.2.4. Direct USCG-to-customer interface.

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extended extra-territorial jurisdiction to access undersea resources, I expect there will be more funding funneled to the agency, which will help to exert sovereign control over these potentially less ice covered waters. In the meantime, the USCG will strive to live up to its motto of “Always Ready” in an area where it has been operating for the last 143 years, 93 years longer than Alaska has been a state.

References Aurora Webmasters. 1997. The wanderings of the Arctic Circle. Article #1349, August 7, 1997. Retrieved from http://fairbanks-alaska.com/arctic-circle-movement.htm Krietemeyer, G. E. 1991. The Coast Guardsman’s manual. Naval Institute Press. National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS). 2007. Conservation plan for the eastern Pacific stock of northern fur seal (Callorhinus ursinus). National Marine Fisheries Service, Protected Resources Division, Alaska Region. Noble, D. 1991. Alaska and Hawaii: A brief history of US Coast Guard operations. US Coast Guard Historian’s Office. O’Toole, J. M. 1997. Racial identity and the case of Captain Mike Healy, USRCS. Prologue 29(3), 190-201.

6.3

The Arctic: A Growing Search-and-Rescue Challenge by rick button and amber s. ward

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he Arctic Ocean has long been a nearly impassable environment. With the exception of parts of some of the marginal seas, only icebreaking ships were able to venture into it. Now, the rapidly receding arctic ice is opening up enough water to allow summer sailing through both the Northeast and Northwest Passages. In 2009, a German shipping company pushed the boundaries in arctic shipping after transiting as the first commercial voyage through the Northeast Passage in the late summer (Maritime & Energy 2009). With increased transportation costs, shipping companies are looking to cut time and expenses by using these shipping routes at the top of the world. With the increase in shipping, the pursuit of the Arctic’s natural resources, and the increase in transpolar commercial airline flights, we can expect a significant increase in human activity in one of the harshest environments on Earth. As a result, northern nations responsible for aeronautical and maritime search and rescue (SAR) in the Arctic are now facing the potential for an increase in disasters, both large and small. With the enormous distances, vast barren landscapes, and harsh conditions, the challenge for arctic nations is immense. The troubling reality is that there is limited search-and-rescue response capability in the Arctic. The lack of available resources to conduct SAR and infrastructure to launch aviation assets to support large-scale search-and-rescue operations makes the challenge even greater. The good news, on the other hand, is that SAR authorities recognize the significance of changes in the Arctic; local, regional, national, and international cooperation to support lifesaving is stronger than ever. For the Coast Guard, the environmental changes in the Arctic continue to expand Coast Guard missions. While other federal agencies balance arctic

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development and environmental concerns, the Coast Guard will need to include maritime safety and security as key missions that must be supported in the region.

Search-and-Rescue Responsibilities Responsibilities to assist people, vessels, or aircraft in distress are based on humanitarian considerations and established international practice. Specific obligations can be found in several international conventions: • • • •

The Convention on International Civil Aviation The International Convention on Maritime Search and Rescue The International Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea

Even if a national government is not party to these conventions, it can still be obligated to provide SAR services, especially if it has accepted responsibility for a search-and-rescue region. In the United States, federal law (14 U.S.C. §§2, 88, and 141) provides that the Coast Guard may develop, establish, maintain, and operate SAR facilities, and it provides for using these facilities to assist other federal and state entities. This authority is supplemented by the National Search and Rescue Plan (NSP), an interagency agreement signed at the cabinet level by seven federal departments, including the Department of Homeland Security. The NSP authorizes the Coast Guard and other federal agencies to perform or support SAR services. Pursuant to the NSP, the Coast Guard coordinates aeronautical and maritime search-andrescue services in the US maritime SAR regions. The National Search and Rescue Plan provides for the effective use of all available resources in all types of SAR missions to enable the United States to satisfy its humanitarian, national, and international legal obligations. Under the overarching provisions of the NSP, SAR doctrine, standards, policy, and procedures are provided in • • •

the International Aeronautical and Maritime Search and Rescue (IAMSAR) manual (applies worldwide); the US National Search and Rescue Supplement (NSS) to the IAMSAR manual (applies to all federal agencies involved in SAR); and the Coast Guard addendum to the NSS (applies only within the Coast Guard).

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Coast Guard SAR Program: International Cooperation The primary objective of the Coast Guard SAR program is to save lives at sea. The search-and-rescue program is highly respected within the international community, and the Coast Guard takes seriously its responsibility as an international SAR leader. As such, the Coast Guard strives to enhance coordination and communication between operational SAR authorities and the government authorities that support this capability. Additionally, international coordination and communication helps improve the effectiveness of participating SAR systems through sharing information and practices, training personnel, and expediting delivery of SAR services. In 1984, in recognition of the Coast Guard’s prominent international role in SAR, the Department of State granted the Coast Guard what is known as “Circular 175” authority to negotiate and conclude SAR agreements with corresponding services of foreign governments.1 Since then, the Coast Guard has used this authority to conclude a number of bilateral and multilateral agreements and memoranda of understanding. These cooperative arrangements provide the primary means of delimiting SAR regions and assigning responsibility for SAR coordination worldwide. International arrangements also facilitate the identification of vital SAR points of contact and serve as a means of ensuring that these countries take responsibility for coordination within their national SAR regions. Cooperative search-and-rescue arrangements with other government agencies or with authorities of other nations not only fulfill domestic and international obligations and needs but also provide many other significant benefits. In practice, such arrangements allow for more efficient SAR response communication and coordination. By identifying responsibilities and points of contact, and by delimiting national SAR regions, domestic and international SAR arrangements can enhance the effectiveness of SAR operations worldwide. Time has proven that these arrangements have a direct impact on preserving valuable Coast Guard resources, decreasing response time, and saving lives at sea.

Arctic SAR Cooperation In August 2008, representatives of the arctic nations met in Fairbanks, Alaska, for the eighth Conference of Parliamentarians of the Arctic Region. Discussions focused on maritime policy, human health, renewable energy, and adaptation to climate change in the arctic region. In the conference statement, the representatives called on governments to “strengthen cooperation, consultation, and coordination

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among nations regarding search and rescue matters in the region to ensure an adequate response from states to any accident.” The group also urged governments to support measures by arctic nations and the maritime industry to “put appropriate resources in place to provide for emergency response capability, search and rescue capability .╯.╯. as the Arctic opens to marine shipping” (CPAR 2008). In the Arctic, the US SAR region (SRR) is delimited by the Russian Federation in the west and Canada in the east. Through cooperative arrangements with both, the groundwork has been laid for continued cooperation in supporting SAR operations. However, in the Far North, US SRR responsibilities include many thousands of square miles of Arctic Ocean. In this environment, any type of large-scale SAR response will be difficult, requiring a coordinated multi-agency (local, state, federal, military, tribal, commercial, volunteer, and scientific) and multinational response effort with assets uniquely suited to severe weather, uninhabited terrain, and huge distances between resources and needs. Although the United States has nonbinding SAR arrangements in the Arctic with Canada and the Russian Federation that have served well over the years, development of a mutual regional cooperative arrangement among all nations with arctic-region SAR responsibilities is now being considered.2 A nonbinding multilateral SAR arrangement could provide the framework for future international cooperation to save lives in the Arctic. It would also fit squarely within the guidelines of the International Maritime Organization/International Convention on Search and Rescue and the International Civil Aviation Organization Convention of International Civil Aviation, which call for cooperative arrangements to be established by countries to further international maritime and aeronautical SAR cooperation. Specifically, a multilateral search-and-rescue arrangement for the arctic could • • • •

•

identify key basic coordination and cooperation arrangements among the participating nations; provide the points of contacts for each participating nation for use in coordinating potential assistance in ongoing and future arctic SAR operations; set the stage for nations to meet periodically to discuss SAR coordination and cooperation issues, providing an understanding of the unique SAR challenges each nation faces in the Arctic; provide the impetus for multinational exercises that could be implemented on a periodic basis to allow national SAR agencies to practice communication, coordination, and the practical challenges associated with arctic SAR operations; and formally identify each nation’s maritime and aeronautical SAR regions in the Arctic.

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Arctic Exercises Based on priorities outlined in the National Security Council’s interagency review of arctic policy, it is anticipated that the Coast Guard’s role and missions in the Arctic will continue to expand. In preparation for its increasing responsibilities, the Coast Guard has been conducting various exercises while patrolling in the Arctic Ocean, determining which assets are best capable of operating in the icy climate. For example, during July and August 2008, the Coast Guard conducted its first series of arctic exercises off Barrow, Alaska. The primary objective was to determine the Coast Guard’s arctic requirements and capabilities. As part of Operation Salliq, units in the 17th District tested the operational capabilities of various assets. The sixteen-day operation included two HH-65 Dolphin helicopters and two 25-foot response boats from Station Valdez. The exercise also included a successful rescue swimmer operation conducted by members of Coast Guard Air Station Kodiak. After the initial exercise, on August 29, 2008, the Coast Guard conducted its first arctic SAR exercise to better understand the challenges of executing a mass rescue operation in the harsh environment. The Kodiak-based, 225-foot buoy tender Coast Guard Cutter Spar and the San Diego–based, 378-foot high-endurance Coast Guard Cutter Hamilton, together with aircraft from Coast Guard Air Station Kodiak, were the principal players. The Spar simulated a small cruise ship in distress after striking sea ice. The “collision” resulted in uncontrolled flooding in the auxiliary engine room, injuries to two crewmembers, and the loss of one passenger into the water. Hamilton responded to the call for assistance with a combination of forces and tactics. The cutter launched its HH-65 to evacuate the “injured” crewmembers, deployed a small boat to retrieve the person in the water, and deployed a second small boat with a rescue and assist team to patch the hull and dewater the flooded compartment. As a result, the Coast Guard learned key lessons to improve its arctic SAR capabilities.

On the Horizon If current ice trends and advances in technology continue as expected, human activity in the arctic region could escalate dramatically. Continued expansion in shipping and vessel traffic in turn increases risks to mariners and the environment while challenging law enforcement regimes, operational capabilities, and conventional notions of sovereignty. In view of this, cooperation between the United States and other arctic nations will become increasingly necessary to ensure effective SAR response coordination.

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The United States and the Coast Guard will need to partner with national and international agencies and organizations to develop an effective SAR response capability in the Arctic. The Coast Guard Search and Rescue program is committed to maintaining a world leadership position in maritime SAR and minimizing the loss of life, injury, and property loss and damage in the maritime environment. Bearing these objectives in mind, the Coast Guard will continue to work toward meeting the challenge of providing critical rescue assistance in one of Earth’s most extreme environments.

Coast Guard SAR: A Historic Arctic Presence The Coast Guard’s first known rescue case in the Arctic occurred in 1897, when eight whaling ships and more than two hundred and fifty whalers were trapped in the ice above Point Barrow, the northernmost point in Alaska. Concerned that the stranded whalers would not survive the winter, the ship owners appealed to President McKinley to send help. In late November, the Revenue Cutter Bear, under the command of Captain Francis Tuttle, was deployed to assist. On reaching Cape Vancouver, Alaska, it became apparent that the Bear would not be able to navigate through the ice to reach the stranded men. It was therefore decided the rescue team must go over land, and the Overland Relief Expedition was formed. The rescue team principally consisted of First Lieutenant David Jarvis, Second Lieutenant Ellsworth Bertholf, Dr. J. S. Call (the surgeon aboard the Bear), and two Native civilians. In mid-December 1897, the team set off from Cape Vancouver, stopping to purchase a herd of more than four hundred reindeer along the way. Using skis, snowshoes, and dogsleds, the rescue team drove the herd an estimated 1,500 miles through dark blizzard conditions and below-freezing temperatures before reaching the stranded whalers in late March 1898. They found the desperate men in a state of great suffering and sickness. Since 1997, the Coast Guard has responded to close to thirty SAR cases in the arctic region. Of those, four were false alerts, four were medical evacuations off Coast Guard icebreakers, and the rest were assorted emergencies. Several cases were handled in coordination with international counterparts closer to the scene of the incident.

Both Routes around Arctic Open at Summer’s End As of the first week of September 2008, arctic sea ice extent had not fallen below the record low observed in 2007, but the season set a new kind of record. For the

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first time in probably half a century—and definitely since satellite observations began about three decades ago—sea ice retreated enough to create open (but not ice-free) waters all the way around the northern ice pack. The southern portions of the Northwest Passage through the Arctic (the western route from Europe to Asia through the islands of northern Canada) opened in early August. Then, in early September, ice scientists confirmed that the waters around the Russian coastline—the Northern Sea Route—were navigable, but still treacherous, with shifting floes of thick multiyear ice that could coalesce rapidly. The widest avenue through the Northwest Passage, Parry Channel, still harbored some ice, but the more circuitous southern waterways were clear. On the other side of the Arctic Ocean, the passage around Russia’s Taymyr Peninsula, normally locked in by ice, was similarly open. According to a press release from the US National Ice Center, “This is the first recorded occurrence of the Northwest Passage and Northern Sea Route both being open at the same time” (Lindsay 2008).

Demand on Coast Guard Polar Icebreakers Coast Guard icebreakers are essential for operating in the Arctic. By statute and executive order, the Coast Guard is authorized to carry out icebreaking operations and maintain icebreaking facilities to support its missions. Domestically, the icebreakers support federal, state, and local agencies to maintain open waterways to ensure the continuous flow of commerce. They also patrol waterways to enforce our laws and are available to assist mariners in distress. The medium and heavy icebreakers also operate in international waters, primarily in support of US research interests in the arctic region and maintaining resupply routes to Antarctica’s McMurdo Station. Presently, the Coast Guard has three polar icebreakers in varying states of readiness, the cutters Polar Sea, Polar Star, and Healy. The polar-class icebreakers Polar Sea and Polar Star have both reached the end of their designed service life and have experienced mechanical problems requiring extensive repair. Polar Sea went through extensive repairs and is now used for the National Science Foundation’s resupply of Antarctica’s McMurdo Station as well as science missions. Polar Star was laid up in 2006 for repairs and still requires significant work before it will be operational. Healy, the newest cutter, has been able to routinely fulfill its primary mission of supporting arctic scientific research. It has only medium icebreaking abilities, and its operational time is almost exclusively devoted to direct tasking from other agencies. The demand on the polar icebreakers is extending well beyond the primary missions to include commerce, ecotourism, search and rescue, and other missions

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of national interest. As expressed by US Coast Guard Commandant ADM Thad Allen, “demand is increasing while [Coast Guard] capacity is decreasing” (Allen 2008). Adequate icebreaking capability is necessary for the United States to assert a more active and influential presence in the arctic region.

References Allen, T. W. 2008. Testimony before the US Congressional Subcommittee on Transportation and Infrastructure, Subcommittee on Coast Guard and Maritime Transportation. US House of Representatives, July 16. Conference of Parliaments of the Arctic Region (CPAR). 2008. Conference statement, eighth Conference of Parliaments of the Arctic Region. Available at www.arcticparl.org. Lindsay, R. 2008. Both routes around Arctic Open at summer’s end. NASA Press Release, September 9. Maritime & Energy. 2009. Beluga shipping masters first commercial transit of the Northeast-Passage. Retrieved from www.maritimeandenergy.com/sider/tekst. asp?side=530.

Endnotes 1

2

The original “Circular 175” was a 1955 Department of State circular prescribing a process for prior coordination and approval of treaties and international agreements. The “Circular 175” title has been retained, while the applicable procedures are now referenced at 22 CFR 181.4. As this book went to press, US Secretary of State Clinton joined representatives from the other seven Arctic Council Member States on May 12, 2011, in signing an Agreement on Cooperation on Aeronautical and Maritime Search and Rescue in the Arctic. The agreement is unique also in that it represents the first legally binding instrument negotiated under the Arctic Council. [The Editors]

6.4

Traffic Management in the Bering Strait by maureen johnson

A

s the summer arctic sea ice continues to retreat, the opportunity for shipping through the remote region at the top of the world increases significantly. There has been a notable amount of shipping in the Arctic for many years, primarily for resupply of coastal communities, fishing, mining and petroleum resource extraction, science exploration, and, most recently, tourism (Arctic Council 2009). However, several economic, political, technological, and environmental factors have kept the frequency of ship passages through the Bering Strait from increasing at a significant rate in the near term. The Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment (AMSA) has noted that approximately one hundred and fifty large commercial vessels transited the Bering Strait during the ice-free months of July–October 2004 (Arctic Council 2009). Although the rate of future offshore oil and gas development activity in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas is uncertain, the global demand for the potential natural resources of the Arctic may result in increased commercial shipping through the Bering Strait region over the next several decades (Arctic Council 2009). The AMSA also identified the lack of vessel routing measures and sparse aids to navigation coverage in the Bering Strait. As climate conditions in the Arctic change, the opportunity for more frequent shipping increases. Due to the lengthy nature of the process, the prudent course now is to begin to pursue the establishment of appropriate safety measures for vessels transiting through the Bering Strait. The International Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS), 1974, as amended, identifies the International Maritime Organization (IMO) as the body responsible for establishing or adopting vessel routing measures at the international level (IMO 2003). The Bering Strait is an international strait, according to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), Article

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41. The coastal states that border an international strait may designate sea lanes or traffic separation schemes with IMO approval (VanderZwaag et al. 2008). Under US law—specifically the Ports and Waterways Safety Act of 1972 and Title 49, US Code of Federal Regulations, Section 1.46—the commandant of the US Coast Guard has the authority to establish vessel routing measures (USCG 1986:5-51). These measures are created for the purpose of improving the safety of navigation in a particular area. The area may be deemed hazardous due to large amounts of converging traffic, shallow depths, numerous obstructions, or unfavorable prevailing weather conditions. The area may also require a routing measure because it contains environmentally sensitive areas or specific species that would be especially at risk in the event of pollution or a marine casualty (IMO 2008). Two distinct levels of traffic management—active and passive—are considered by the US Coast Guard when evaluating an area’s vessel routing needs. Active management “involves direct interaction between the government and the user to ensure compliance with government requirements. Active traffic management is used only in those areas where passive management techniques and procedures are inadequate to provide a desired level of safety and protection of the environment. When personnel not aboard a vessel become involved in its operation, either directly or indirectly, vessel traffic management becomes active” (USCG 1986:41). A typical form of active traffic management is a vessel traffic service (VTS). Passive management includes navigation rules and various vessel routing measures; these are techniques that place the responsibility for compliance on the user. These methods can successfully be used in places where the prevailing conditions are not of the complexity to warrant the significant government intervention that active traffic management involves (USCG 1986:4-1). Vessel routing measures can vary widely in scope, size, and restrictiveness. “Unless stated otherwise, routing systems are recommended for use by all ships and may be made mandatory for all ships, certain categories of ships, or ships carrying certain cargos or types and quantities of bunker fuel” (IMO 2008, Part A:11). When vessel routing measures are being considered for a certain area by the US Coast Guard, such as the Bering Strait, the initial step is to initiate a Port Access Route Study (PARS).The PARS is used “to evaluate navigational safety and traffic management efficiency in the study area” (USCG 1986:5-50).The Coast Guard will determine the appropriate geographic study area that will allow a thorough consideration of all activities that may affect or be affected by vessel traffic in the area. The PARS is announced by a Notice of Study published in the Federal Register. The study is then completed by the Coast Guard in consultation with many US government agencies and maritime stakeholders. The study will involve collecting and analyzing data from various sources regarding a wide range of topics, including the characteristics of vessels that typically operate in the region, fishing

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activity, military activities, current and potential resource development, environmental information, native tribal activities, and economic factors. Public meetings may be conducted if deemed necessary, primarily to ensure that the opinions and knowledge of as many stakeholders as possible are included in the study. A Notice of Study Results is published in the Federal Register. If the PARS recommends that vessel routing measures be established, the Coast Guard will propose such routing measures to the IMO, if required. The time required to complete the PARS process is approximately eight to thirty-six months. Because the United States shares a border with the Russian Federation in the Bering Strait, extensive coordination and cooperation between the two countries is essential. Such cooperation is necessary to develop a joint proposal to the IMO to ensure that a valid and appropriate routing system is established and that it is acceptable to both countries. Ships’ Routeing (IMO 2008) states that the proposal from the United States and Russian Federation must include a minimum of six elements: 1. The objectives of the proposed routing system and a demonstrated need for its establishment, including the consideration of alternative routing measures and the reasons why the proposed routing system is preferred; 2. The traffic pattern, hazards to navigation, aids to navigation, and the state of hydrographic surveys; 3. Marine environmental considerations; 4. The application to all ships, certain categories of ships, or ships carrying certain cargoes or types and quantities of bunker fuel of a routing system or any part thereof; 5. Any alternative routing measure, if necessary, for all ships, certain categories of ships or ships carrying certain cargoes that may be excluded from using a routing system or any part thereof; 6. The delineation of the routing system as shown on a nautical chart (type of nautical chart as appropriate) and a description of the system including the geographical coordinates. The coordinates should be given in the WGS 84 datum; in addition, geographical coordinates should also be given in the same datum as the nautical chart, if this chart is based on a datum other than WGS 84. After a joint proposal is developed between the United States and the Russian Federation, it is submitted to the IMO’s Subcommittee on Safety of Navigation. When the proposal receives the subcommittee’s approval, it is forwarded to the

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Maritime Safety Committee for final adoption. The routing system would come into force not earlier than six months after adoption, or possibly significantly later depending on the specific circumstances of the proposal (IMO 2008). There are numerous issues to be considered when determining which routing measures are the most appropriate for the Bering Strait region. One issue is the availability and reliability of hydrographic data. Current US charts of the Bering Strait are reliant on single-beam sonar surveys conducted between 1940 and 1969. These surveys provided only partial bottom coverage. The availability of accurate data is one of the criteria evaluated by the IMO when considering adoption of the proposed routing measure; this may be a significant hurdle to overcome should stringent routing measures be proposed. Several options are available to the United States and the Russian Federation in the Bering Strait.1 For example, areas to be avoided (Figure 6.4.1) could be used to protect environmentally sensitive areas on land (e.g., walrus haul-outs) from potential negative vessel impacts and prevent unnecessary vessel traffic in areas with hazards or sparse depth sounding data. If a more stringent routing measure is recommended, a traffic separation scheme (Figure 6.4.2) could be utilized to establish defined boundary, one-way traffic lanes.

Figure 6.4.1. Areas to be avoided are shown by the shaded yellow regions, with a recommended track depicted by the blue arrows.

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Figure 6.4.2. A traffic separation scheme is depicted.

Figure 6.4.3. A combination of areas to be avoided and a traffic separation scheme is depicted.

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Additionally, a combination (Figure 6.4.3) of these or other measures may be used to best provide for safe navigation in the region. There are also numerous competing interests in this region, including environmental conservation, oil and gas development, fishing, subsistence hunting, and Native concerns. Some of these maritime activities have directly conflicting, and in some cases completely incompatible, priorities. The PARS process will consider all of these factors during the conduct of the study. Given the relative lack of maritime infrastructure currently in the US Bering Strait region, the process to establish vessel routing measures at this stage provides the unique opportunity to establish safe shipping lanes in the most ideal locations, taking into account the most concerns without the impediment of preexisting structures. To be effective, recommended routing measures will need to minimize ship traffic in areas of particular concern, provide adequate corridors for safe navigation, and be agreeable to both the United States and the Russian Federation.

References Arctic Council. 2009. Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 report. Online at www.pame. is/amsa/amsa-2009-report. International Maritime Organization (IMO). 2003. Guidance note on the preparation of proposals on ships’ routeing systems and ship reporting systems for submission to the Sub-Committee on Safety of Navigation. Maritime Safety Committee Circular 1060. International Maritime Organization (IMO). 2008. Ships’ routeing. London: International Maritime Organization. United States Coast Guard (USCG). 1986. Marine Safety Manual, Volume VI, COMDTINST M16000.11. VanderZwaag, D.L., A. Chircop, E. Franckx, H. Kindred, K. MacInnis, M. McConnel, A. McDonald, T. L. McDorman, S. Mills, T. Puthucherril, S. Rolston, P. Saunders, and K. J. Spears. 2008. Governance of Arctic marine shipping report. Halifax, Canada: Dalhousie University.

Endnote 1

The following three examples are provided for illustrative purposes only and do not represent an official proposal by the US Coast Guard. The US Coast Guard has not taken a position for or against these or any other possibilities at the time of this writing. These charts are not official and should not be used for navigation.

6.5

The Effect of Unregulated Ship Emissions on Aerosol and Sulfur Dioxide Concentrations in Southwestern Alaska by nicole mölders, stacy e. porter, trang t. tran, catherine f. cahill, jeremy mathis, and gregory b. newby

R

ecent Alaska counts of populations of various fish and bird species have shown decreasing trends (e.g., EPA 2009a, Trites and Larkin 1996), and measurements in the ocean and atmosphere of southern Alaska have shown phenomena that are quite unexpected for a seemingly clean environment. During an occupation along the Seward Line in the northern Gulf of Alaska in May of 2008, pH values were consistently between 8.15 and 8.20 at the surface and decreased with depth. Inshore, at the mouth of Resurrection Bay, bottom water pH values were ~7.95, and decreased offshore (outside of a sill, depth ~150 m) to values of 7.75. An occupation in September 2008 along the same line showed a dramatic decrease in pH in the bottom waters inshore of the sill (Fig. 6.5.1). Surface pH values increased due to the drawdown of dissolved inorganic carbon (DIC) from primary production. However, the high rate of export production of organic carbon in this area leads to enhanced remineralization at depth, thus adding DIC to the water column. This, in conjunction with upwelling, increases DIC concentrations in the bottom water inshore of the sill and forces lower pH water offshore toward the surface. An increase in oceanic acidity may prove difficult for some marine organisms, such as corals and some plankton, which maintain external calcium carbonate skeletons (Orr et al. 2005). Because these species are an important link in the marine food chain, a decrease in these species’ populations may be a reason for decreases

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Figure 6.5.1. Water column distribution of pH along the Seward Line in the northern Gulf of Alaska in September of 2008. See Figure 6.5.2 for location.

in fish and bird population numbers as well as the number of recently observed species. Increased atmospheric CO2 concentrations (e.g., Orr et al. 2005) cannot explain these relatively low pH values along the Seward Line alone. Long-term measurements of atmospheric sulfate aerosol and sulfur dioxide (SO2) gas concentrations show notable or significant increases in the coastal Simeneof and Tuxedni Wilderness Areas and inland at Trapper Creek, Alaska, while the Denali National Park and Preserve site shows decreasing trends (Figs. 6.5.2, 6.5.3). At the Simeneof site, average concentrations are nearly double that of the three other sites. These increased concentrations could lead to an increase in acid loading to the ocean and land surfaces in this region. Natural sources and proximity to cities cannot explain the differences in concentrations and trends found among the sites. In Alaska, natural sources of atmospheric sulfur (S) include wildfires, biogenic dimethyl sulfide (DMS) emission (e.g., Gabric et al. 1993), and volcanoes. Wildfire activity has increased in frequency over the last decades (Podur et al. 2002; Stocks et al. 2000), but the majority of Alaska wildfires occur in Interior Alaska and are closer to Denali than to Simeneof and Tuxedni (Fig. 6.5.2). DMS emissions may affect the Tuxedni and Simeneof sites the most, as these sites are close to the ocean. The volcanoes of the Aleutian Island chain have high year-to-year variability in activity, but their activity

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Figure 6.5.2. Map of locations of the Trapper Creek (TC), Denali National Park (D), Tuxedni (T), and Simeneof (S) sites, and other locations mentioned in the text. Blue lines schematically indicate major sea lanes.

shows no trends over the last decades (Fig. 6.5.4). Decreases in pH due to sulfate (SO2-4) in meltwater coming off snow-covered erupting volcanoes only affect local water bodies as found during the recent eruption of Mt. Redoubt, Alaska (McNutt, personal communication, 2009). The Simeneof site is more than 500 miles from Anchorage and Fairbanks, the two largest cities in Alaska (Fig. 6.5.2). Emission from these cities may affect concentrations and trends at the Tuxedni, Trapper Creek, and Denali National Park sites. These cities should not affect the Simeneof site or contribute to the low pH values along the Seward Line. Note that Alaska has an estimated population of 686,293 (in 2008), which amounts to 0.4 inhabitants per square kilometer, and Anchorage and Fairbanks have 279,243 (in 2008) and 34,540 (in 2007) inhabitants, respectively. Most people live near these cities and Juneau (30,690 inhabitants in 2007). Thus, a potential reason for the increased concentrations at Simeneof and the increasing trends at the sites closer to the ocean as well as the low pH values along the Seward Line is emissions from ships sailing the international sea lanes from North America to Asia and domestic shipping (Fig. 6.5.2).

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0.1 Simeneof 55.3255N 160.5063W 0.01

Figure 6.5.3. Observed sulfate concentrations (blue diamonds) and linear trends (turquoise lines) at the Trapper Creek, Denali National Park, Tuxedni, and Simeneof sites (upper left to lower right) since the beginning of the measurements (data stem from the IMPROVE network and are available at http://vista.cira. colostate.edu/views/Web/Data/DataWizard.aspx/). Note that the Y-axis has a logarithmic scale and that data availability differs among the sites. See Figure 6.5.2 for site locations.

Over the last decades, ship traffic has increased worldwide (Eyring et al. 2005) and is expected to further increase (EPA 2009b). This increase meant an increase in ship emissions for the Gulf of Alaska (Fig. 6.5.5). The Alaska domestic fleet serves fishing, resource extraction for the mining and oil industry, and cruises, and it provides harbor and vessel services. During the tourist season, charter vessels and cruise ships join tankers, cargo ships, and ferries sailing the Alaska waters. Shipping, fishing, and tourism are essential for Alaska’s welfare and economy. Thus ship traffic will continue to be a major source of emissions in southwestern and southcentral Alaska. These ships emit high concentrations of primary pollutants along sea lanes in the Gulf of Alaska. Alaska’s air quality standards are relatively modest and primarily address visible emissions in tourism areas; thus, they lack concrete restrictions on total ship emissions. As an example, regulations state that ships within 3 miles of the coast may not degrade visibility in the exhaust effluent by 20% within an hour (AKDEC 2008). This means ships can release substantial amounts of pollutants into the marine atmospheric boundary layer (ABL). The types of pollutants emitted by ships, including SO2, mono-nitrogen oxides (NOx ), particulate matter (PM) with an aerodynamic diameter less than 2.5 mm (PM2.5), and heavy metals, have well-documented effects on human health. For

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example, SO2 is associated with adverse respiratory effects including narrowing of the airways, increased asthma symptoms, and increased emergency room visits and hospital admissions for respiratory illnesses (EPA 2010a). NO x is associated with adverse respiratory effects including increased asthma symptoms, more difficulty controlling asthma, an increase in respiratory illnesses and symptoms, and increased emergency room visits and hospital admissions for respiratory illnesses (EPA 2010b). PM2.5 is associated with worsening asthma, chronic bronchitis, emphysema, decreased lung function, nonfatal heart attacks, irregular heartbeats, and premature death in people already compromised by heart or lung disease (EPA 2006). The US Environmental Protection Agency sets the National Ambient Air Quality Standards (NAAQS) for SO2, NO x, and PM2.5 at levels designed to protect human health and revises them if the scientific information suggests that the standards may not be sufficient to protect human health. For example, in 2010 the EPA added a new 1-hour SO2 standard at a level of 75 parts per billion (ppb) and new 1-hour NO2 standard at the level of 100 ppb (EPA 2010a, EPA 2010b) to protect people from these compounds. In 2006, the EPA tightened the 24-hour NAAQS for PM2.5 to 35 mg m-3 for the same reason (EPA 2006). In contrast to the stringent NAAQS for SO2, NOx, and PM2.5, the EPA does not specifically regulate the concentrations of most heavy metals in ambient air although the concentrations of these species appear in the PM2.5 mass

Figure 6.5.4. Number of volcanic eruptions in Alaska since 1950. Data from http://www.avo.alaska.edu/ searches/eruption_search.php.

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Figure 6.5.5. Temporal evolution of PM2.5 and SO2 ship emissions in the area shown in Figure 6.5.7. Linear trends are superimposed.

concentration. However, ships emit these metals and, although they are not examined in this study, the metals have the ability to accumulate in subsistence foods such as fish (Vinodhini and Narayanan 2008). Some metals, for instance, iron and manganese, are known to contribute to acid rain formation. This study presents a ship emission inventory for Alaska and examines whether ship emissions may affect aerosol concentrations in coastal areas by using a stateof-the-art chemistry transport model.

Ship Emission Inventory A sea-lane-related ship emission inventory was developed by Porter (2009) in accord with Corbett and Köhler (2003) using a bottom-up approach. This approach (Fig. 6.5.6) is based on ship timetables, port times, routes of tankers, container ships, roll on–roll off cargo ships, ferries, fishing boats, and cruise ships, data on the typical fuel usage of these vessels, and data on the typical split among the released species. The following assumptions were made (Porter 2009): Gas or steam engines can be neglected, as only 1% of the entire world fleet still uses these engines. Cruise ships use medium-speed four-stroke diesel engines; tankers and cargo ships use slow-speed two-stroke diesel engines. All main engines and about 71% of the auxiliary engines use residual oil (heavy fuel oil) because of its cost effectiveness. Tanker auxiliary engines use distillate fuel. The average value of engine power for passenger

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Figure 6.5.6. Schematic view of the ship emission inventory.

and cruise ships is set to a typical value of 39,563 kW independent of vessel size. The average engine power of tankers, container, and cargo ships is assumed as 9,409 kW, 30,885 kW, and 10,696 kW, respectively. Ratios of 0.27, 0.35, 0.27, and 0.39 of auxiliary to main engine power for passenger vessels, tankers, container, and cargo ships, respectively, lead to average auxiliary power of 10,682 kW, 3,293 kW, 8,339 kW, and 4,172 kW, respectively. The inventory considers three operation modes—cruising, maneuvering, and berthing—with cruising being the dominant mode. Maneuvering is assumed to occur one hour before and after port call. Berthing only occurs in ports and uses only the auxiliary engines for all ships except for tankers, which use a combination of main (20%) and auxiliary (60%) load of engines. A main engine load of 80% and auxiliary engine load of 30% are assumed for cruising ships; a 60% load is assumed for berthing of the auxiliary engines for all other machinery. Tankers are assigned 20% of the main and 50% of the auxiliary engine load for maneuvering. Emission factors depend on the operational mode. Emission factors for mononitrogen oxides (NOx), SO2, volatile organic compounds (VOCs), and particulate

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matter (PM) are taken from ENTEC UK Limited (2002), and carbon monoxide (CO) and ammonia (NH3) from Cooper and Gustafsson (2004) and Corbett et al. (2007). For both PM of 2.5 (PM2.5 ) and 10 m m (PM10 ) in diameter, the same emission factor is used and the split between PM10 and PM2.5 is determined assuming a ratio of 1:9. The PM2.5 is split among sulfate, organic matter, carbon, and unspecified PM2.5 following Petzold et al. (2004). The VOCs are split among ethane, butane, formaldehyde, pentane, hexane, ethylene, propylene, acetylene, benzene, toluene, xylene, tri-methylbenzene, and other aromatics following Eyring et al. (2005). Hourly emission rates are determined based on the emission factor,

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average power, and load factor of the main and auxiliary engines as a function of latitude and longitude. For further details, see Porter (2009). Figure 6.5.7 illustrates the daily average ship emissions as determined for June and compares them to the emissions obtained from the REanalysis of the TROpospheric (RETRO; http://retro.enes.org/index.shtml) dataset. The major

Figure 6.5.7. Daily emissions of PM2.5 as obtained from the ship emission inventory developed for this study (opposite page) and the RETRO data (above). Note that RETRO data are for 2000. Distributions for other species look similar. Note that the emission scales differ between the panels.

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sea lanes are clearly visible for the emission inventory developed by Porter (2009). The resolution of the RETRO and Emission Database for Global Atmospheric Research (EDGAR; http://www.mnp.nl/edgar/introduction) for ship emissions is 1° × 1°. Thus in these emission datasets, ship emission will get strongly diluted even if assigned along the sea lanes. Since the scientific community has spent huge effort on comparing various emission inventories and the advantages and disadvantages of the top-down and bottom-up approaches (e.g., Butler et al. 2008; van Amstel et al. 1997; Vestreng et al. 2009), this discussion is not repeated here. A comparison of our ship-inventory emissions with the EDGAR and RETRO ship-emissions data when the ship emissions are projected on the same period shows similar magnitudes of total ship emissions for large areas of the domain and with differences similar to those discussed in the aforementioned studies. The coarse resolution, for instance, pretends emissions exist in some areas where actually emissions are low (e.g., southwestern corner of the domain) because the emissions given at the RETRO resolution occur farther south in the 1° × 1° cells only partly covered by the model domain. Maxima of emissions occur in similar areas (e.g., outlet of Prince William Sound) in our inventory, but they often seem to be shifted due to the coarse resolution of the RETRO data.

Simulations The chemistry transport model used in this study is WRF/Chem (Grell et al. 2005; Peckham et al. 2009). WRF/Chem simulates the weather and the trace-gas and aerosol cycles from emission, through a variety of chemical reactions and transport, to final removal from the atmosphere by wet or dry deposition. WRF/Chem also considers the complicated interrelations with the energy and water cycles. WRF/Chem has shown itself to well reproduce the meteorological conditions for Alaska (e.g., Mölders 2008; Mölders and Kramm 2010; Porter 2009). Out of the variety of physical and chemical packages, we chose the following well-tested setup: The six water–class bulk-microphysics parameterization (Hong et al. 2004; Hong and Lim 2006), a version of the cumulus ensemble approach by Grell and Dévényi (2002), the Dudhia (1989) short-wave radiation scheme, Mlawer et al.’s (1997) long-wave radiation scheme, the Janjić sublayer and Mellor-Yamada-Janjić ABL scheme ( Janjić 1994, 2002; Mellor and Yamada 1982), a modified version of the Rapid Update Cycle land-surface model (Smirnova et al. 1997, 2000), the so-called RADM chemical mechanism (Chang et al. 1989; Stockwell et al. 1990), Madronich’s (1987) photolysis rates, the so-called MADE/SORGAM aerosol chemistry, physics, and wet and dry deposition package (Ackermann et al. 1998; Binkowski and Shankar 1995; Schell et al. 2001), dry deposition of trace gases

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(Wesely 1989), and calculated biogenic and soil emissions (Simpson et al. 1995). The model domain encompasses the atmosphere over south Alaska with 28 vertically stretched layers and 151 × 128 grid points in the horizontal with a 7-kilometer grid-increment covering 947,072 square kilometers (e.g., Fig. 6.5.7). The 1° × 1° and 6-hour-resolution National Centers for Environmental Prediction global final analyses provide the meteorological initial and boundary conditions. At the beginning of the simulations, WRF/Chem is initialized with idealized vertical profiles of Alaska background concentrations. The distributions of the chemical species obtained after five days of simulation serve as initial distributions for the first day analyzed in our study (May 20, 2006). All later five-day simulations use the chemical field distributions obtained at the end of the previous five-day simulation as initial conditions. We ran five-day simulations from May 15 to August 20, 2006. The first five days serve to spin up the chemical fields and were discarded from the examinations. We ran WRF/Chem alternatively without (REF) and with (SEM) inclusion of ship emissions from the ship emission inventory presented above. These simulations were run for three summer months to examine the impact of ship emissions on aerosol and SO2 concentrations, their atmospheric deposition, and their relation to weather.

Results On domain average, ship emissions increase the average concentrations of SO2, NOx, and PM concentrations within the vicinity of major sea lanes significantly at the 95% or higher confidence level according to Student t-tests (e.g., Fig. 6.5.8). SO2 concentrations decrease throughout the season due to increasing precipitation as time progresses. While SO2 concentrations are otherwise relatively independent of the synoptic situations, most of the other pollutants and their deposition show high sensitivity to the synoptic situations in their temporal and spatial distributions. During low-pressure events, for instance, NOx concentrations decrease, while PM concentrations increase due to sea spray. During calm-wind high-pressure regimes, HNO3 accumulates, while PAN dramatically drops during long-lasting, warm high-pressure events. The relatively cool Alaska summer temperatures permit PAN to become a huge reservoir for NOx and to be transported over long distances. Thus, PAN and HNO3 caused by ship emissions occur in significant amounts even at large distances from the major sea lanes. There are great differences between the impact of ship emissions in Alaska and mid-latitudes. In contrast to mid-latitudes, where ship emissions produce high ozone levels (e.g., Capaldo et al. 1999; Derwent et al. 2005; Lelieveld et al. 2004),

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Figure 6.5.8. Average diff erence in SO2 concentrations between the SEM and REF simulations for the tourist season 2006. Distribution for NOx looks similar, but with slightly smaller areas experiencing signifi cant differences. From Porter (2009).

photo-chemical ozone formation in response to ship emissions remains insignificant in Alaska (Fig. 6.5.9). In Alaska during summer, the long daylight permits photochemical processes to modify some of the primary pollutants nearly 24/7. The exclusion or short time of nighttime chemistry has consequences for various secondary pollutants and their distributions. At the same time, temperatures are much

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lower than in mid-latitudes. As many chemical reactions are temperature-dependent gas phase chemistry is slower than at mid-latitudes. Furthermore, Alaska’s large forest areas emit huge amounts of VOCs. Secondary pollutants formed from ship emissions and transported landward by various synoptic conditions react with the available VOCs. Thus elevated concentrations of polluted air occur along the coasts (e.g., Fig. 6.5.9).

Figure 6.5.9. Average O3 concentrations for the 2006 tourist season as obtained with the SEM simulation. Note that no signifi cant diff erences exist between the SEM and REF simulations. From Porter (2009).

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Such synoptic situations are, for instance, the frequent low-pressure systems that the Gulf of Alaska experiences. These low-pressure systems yield onshore winds where the coastline is exposed perpendicularly to the main flow. Thus pollutants stemming from ship emissions are transported landward. Due to the topography, low-pressure systems often stagnate and eventually dissipate in Prince William Sound. Here pollutants accumulate due to the topographic barrier, the typically calm winds at the base of the mountains, and the heavy ship traffic (e.g., Fig. 6.5.8). Consequently, large amounts of secondary pollutants form over the sound, which leads to enhanced dry and wet deposition when compared to wellventilated regions. Wet and dry deposition processes may acidify the water and

Figure 6.5.10. Average diff erence SEM-REF in deposition of SO2 for the 2006 tourist season. From Porter (2009).

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adjacent coastal ecosystems. Thus input of the additional acid contaminants stemming from ship emissions may be a potential source for low pH values observed in the ocean. Winds often converge between the Kenai Peninsula and Kodiak Island, leading to a channeling of the wind between these landmarks. This type of wind system causes strong onshore winds toward Iliamna Lake, a tourist attraction and recreation area between Lake Clark National Park and Katmai National Park. These

Figure 6.5.11. Average PM2.5 concentrations as obtained for the 2006 tourist season with SEM. Units are ng/m3. Hatching represents signifi cant increases from the REF simulation at the 95% confi dence level. From Porter (2009).

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parks are close to the Tuxedni Wilderness Area. Thus the circulation-related landward transport of primary and secondary pollutants from ship emissions might be a reason for the elevated (as compared to typical Alaska background values) atmospheric sulfate aerosol and SO2 concentrations found in this region. Ship emissions along the sea lanes between Seward, Homer, and Anchorage strongly affect the Kenai Peninsula and Kenai Fjords National Park. Air quality gradually degrades over the coastal region of the peninsula and is affected significantly by ship emissions for some species. This atmospheric deposition (e.g., Fig. 6.5.10) may contribute to the low pH values found along the Seward Line. For ship-emitted aerosols, size plays a role in the distribution and radius of ship emissions’ impact. Typically, PM2.5 concentrations remain below the current EPA standards in spite of ship emissions (Fig. 6.5.11). The impact of ship emissions on PM, however, is significant in many places. The spatial extent of significant contributions to PM2.5 concentrations due to ship emissions exceeds that of PM10. Significant impacts of ship emissions on PM10 occur only for Anchorage, Valdez, and Whittier, all of which have large ports, much larger than typical in the United States for similar population size. The spatial extent of dry deposition of primary pollutants due to ship emissions is smaller than for secondary pollutants, as the latter are formed during transport. In some areas, ships are the major contributor of trace gases and aerosols into an ecosystem. For instance, ship emissions contribute more than 90% of the NO x deposition in Prince William Sound. In contrast, the influx of ship traffic to and from Anchorage mainly impacts Lake Clark National Park and Katmai National Park, both located on the western coast of Cook Inlet. In these parks, deposition of PM has a marginal effect because no ports exist in the vicinity.

Conclusions Measurements of atmospheric aerosol and sulfur dioxide concentrations from the IMPROVE network in southern Alaska show an increase over the time of recording for sites close to the ocean. Measurements of pH of the ocean along the Seward Line are relatively low when taking into account that there are no rivers discharging waters contaminated with wastewater. Since no cities exist in the area and population density is very low in the larger area around the sites, and investigation of ship emission trends indicates on average an increase over the last forty years, we tested the hypothesis of whether ship emissions may affect the aerosol and sulfur dioxide concentrations and pH in these vast and remote areas. To examine the impact of ship emissions on aerosol and sulfur dioxide concentrations and their deposition into waters and ecosystems, we used the chemistry

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transport model WRF/Chem. Simulations were performed with and without consideration of a ship emission inventory developed for the Gulf of Alaska (see Porter 2009 for details). This study showed that ship emissions have significant impacts on SO2 concentrations and aerosol distributions as well as on deposition of trace gases and aerosols into the ocean and coastal ecosystems. Thus, it has to be examined whether the atmospheric input contributes to the low pH values found. Doing so will require field campaigns with concurrent atmospheric and oceanic measurements. The impact of ship emissions on air quality and atmospheric deposition of aerosols and trace gases in southern Alaska differs strongly from what has been found by many studies for mid-latitudes (e.g., Capaldo et al. 1999; Derwent et al. 2005; Lelieveld et al. 2004) due to Alaska’s different radiative and temperature conditions. In Alaska during summer, the long daylight permits photochemical processes to modify some of the primary pollutants nearly 24/7. However, photochemical ozone formation in response to ship emissions remains insignificant despite the long daylight hours. The low O3 levels are different from the high ozone levels produced by ship emissions in mid-latitudes. The exclusion or short time of nighttime chemistry has consequences for various secondary pollutants and their distributions. Another difference between Alaska and mid-latitude simulations of ship emissions impacts on air quality results from Alaska’s large forest areas that emit VOCs. Various synoptic situations yield transport of the secondary pollutants built from ship emissions into the coastal landscapes. Here these pollutants react with the available VOCs and lead to elevated concentrations of polluted air along the coasts. This study only examined the impact of ship emissions on SO2 and aerosol concentrations and their deposition. In a further step, the contributions of other emission sources and their changes have to be included and their relative contributions have to be evaluated to explain the observed trends. The impact of ship emissions in winter still has to be examined, as during winter, nighttime chemistry is dominant, i.e., photochemistry hardly plays a role. Here major challenges are the extreme low temperatures and ice chemistry that is not well understood and therefore not included in chemistry transport models. To assess the impact of atmospheric input on the pH value, a module has to be developed that calculates the acidification of ocean water due to the input of the atmospheric contaminants. In a future step, an ocean chemistry model run in coupled mode with WRF/Chem could permit assessing the interaction between ocean chemistry and ocean dynamics. Even though new regulations on ship emissions (e.g., Showstack 2009) may reduce the amount emitted by an individual ship, the likely increase in ship traffic may offset these benefits. Investigations of the impact of ship emissions in Alaska are required to provide guidance to regulators that guarantee a subsistence lifestyle

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for Native Alaskans along Alaska’s coasts and the sustainability of Alaska’s fishing and tourism industries. If the ocean turns more acidic, species having a calcium skeleton in particular may have difficulty surviving. As they are an important part of the food chain, other species (e.g., fish, birds) feeding on them will not have enough food. Thus, the population number or even the number of species may go down with negative effects for a subsistence lifestyle and fishing. The metals emitted may accumulate in fish and mammals and birds feeding on them and finally in humans who eat them as the major part of their diet. Most of the emitted particle may take up water and swell, thereby reducing visibility. Visibility, however, is important for the tourism industry to show off Alaska’s beauty.

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Simpson, D., A. Guenther, C. N. Hewitt, and R. Steinbrecher. 1995. Biogenic emissions in Europe: 1. Estimates and uncertainties. Journal of Geophysical Research 100D, 22875–22890. Smirnova, T. G., J. M. Brown, and S. G. Benjamin. 1997. Performance of different soil model configurations in simulating ground surface temperature and surface fluxes. Monthly Weather Review 125, 1870–1884. Smirnova, T. G., J. M. Brown, S. G. Benjamin, and D. Kim. 2000. Parameterization of cold-season processes in the MAPS land-surface scheme. Journal of Geophysical Research 105D, 4077–4086. Stocks, B. J., M. A. Fosberg, M. B. Wotten, T. J. Lynham, and K. C. Ryan. 2000. Climate change and forest fire activity in North American Boreal Forests. In Fire, climate change, and carbon cycling in North American boreal forest. Edited by E. S. Kasischke and B. J. Stocks. New York: Springer. Stockwell, W. R., P. Middleton, J. S. Chang, and X. Tang. 1990. The second generation regional acid deposition model chemical mechanism for regional air quality modeling. Journal of Geophysical Research 95, 16343–16367. Trites, A. W., and P. A. Larkin. 1996. Changes in the abundance of Steller sea lions (Eumetopias jubatus) in Alaska from 1956 to 1992: How many were there? Aquatic Mammals 22, 153–166. van Amstel, A. R., C. Kroeze, L. H. J. M. Janssen, J. G. J. Olivier, and J. van der Wal. 1997. Greenhouse gas accounting. In Preliminary study as Dutch input to a joint International IPCC Expert Meeting/CKO-CCB Workshop on Comparison of Topdown versus Bottom-up Emission Estimates. WIMEK/RIVM Technical report 728001 002, RIVM, Bilthoven. Vestreng, V., L. Ntziachristos, A. Semb, S. Reis, I. S. A. Isaksen, and L. Tarrasóon. 2009. Evolution of NO x emissions in Europe with focus on road transport control measures. Atmospheric Chemistry and Physics 9, 1503–1520. Vinodhini, R., and M. Narayanan. 2008. Bioaccumulation of heavy metals in organs of fresh water fish Cyprinus carpio (Common carp). International Journal of Environmental Science and Technology 5(2), 179–182. Wesely, M. L. 1989. Parameterization of surface resistances to gaseous dry deposition in regional-scale numerical models. Atmospheric Environment 23, 1293–1304.

6.6

Strengthening Institutions for Stakeholder Involvement and Ecosystem-Based Management in the US Arctic Offshore by sharman haley, laura chartier, glenn gray, chanda meek, jim powell, andrew a. rosenberg, and jonathan rosenberg

The nation’s current approach to managing the use of ocean resources is ad hoc and fragmented, with no systematic way to evaluate competing ocean uses and to inform and navigate the often difficult trade-off decisions they require. The nation needs a “comprehensive, integrated, ecosystem-based” framework for coastal and marine spatial planning that “addresses conservation, economic activity, user conflict, and sustainable use of ocean, coastal, and Great Lakes resources. —Dr. Jane Lubchenco, NOAA Administrator, “NOAA Annual Guidance Memorandum,” August 2009

T

he dramatic run-up in oil prices between 2001 and 2008 fueled keen interest in oil and gas exploration worldwide. In Alaska, observers were startled by record-breaking bids totaling more than $2.6 billion for leases offered by the US Minerals Management Service (MMS) in a remote area of the Chukchi Sea. Shell Offshore Inc., which paid $2.1 billion for Chukchi leases, was eager to begin exploration activities both in the Chukchi and in the Beaufort Sea, where it is also a major leaseholder. While federal agencies approved Shell’s 2008 plan for exploration in the Beaufort (and state agencies concurred), no drilling occurred because of a legal challenge asserting that the environmental review process did not adequately consider potential for harm to migrating whales and traditional Iñupiaq hunting (Alaska Wilderness League v. Kempthorne, November 2008). 457

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This is the latest example of failed ocean governance strategies in a thirty-year history of conflict over oil and gas development in offshore northern Alaska. The conflicts of interest among surface users (Iñupiaq subsistence hunters), subsurface owners (the state and federal governments that own the oil and gas rights), and the oil industry that wants to develop the resource are structural. At the same time, there is a growing awareness that marine ecosystems in many parts of the world have been transformed by the loss of biodiversity, overfishing, food web collapses, marine pollution, and ill-planned coastal development (Crowder et al. 2006; Pew Oceans Commission 2003; US Commission on Ocean Policy 2004). These transformations are largely understood to stem from failures of governance (Crowder et al. 2006). At present, the governance systems managing human uses of the marine environment are fragmented along agency and jurisdictional lines; additionally, existing governance strategies are often not aligned with spatial and temporal characteristics of the marine system (Crowder et al. 2006). In this chapter, we argue that as changing conditions in both the human and natural environments of the Alaska arctic offshore spotlight shortcomings in the existing management regimes, the time has come to rethink and redesign the fragmented array of institutions governing resource use in the region. The analysis and recommendations for further study that we present in this chapter are guided by a single, overarching assumption about good institutional design. Management of these valuable and fragile arctic resources requires the active and substantive inclusion of all stakeholders—national and local, public and private. Inclusion (understood as substantive participation in critical decisions on resource use) must be characterized by policymaking, policy implementation, and policy evaluation. In particular, we are concerned about the inability of current institutional arrangements to give central importance to the interests of place-bound stakeholders, namely, the permanent residents of the Beaufort and Chukchi coastal zones. These are the people who have the most direct and critical interests in the sustainable management of the resources and the strongest, most direct historical claim to the arctic offshore. In political terms, what we propose is a more directly and comprehensively democratic approach to resource management than is currently available. Therefore, we begin our analysis by questioning the sufficiency of conventional notions of democracy based on norms of majority rule and representation and make an argument for participatory democracy even in areas normally thought of as bureaucratic, administrative, or technical. In the course of that discussion, we also explore ways in which the complexity of the challenges and the array of stakeholders could be better reflected in the institutional arrangements that bring stakeholders together to deliberate. We then suggest how ecosystems-based approaches can guide a process of discovering, constructing, and implementing new or substantially renovated

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institutional arrangements that will avoid some of the failures that have already been witnessed in the region. These failures that are likely to become more frequent as oil and gas development goes forward if institutions for participatory management are not strengthened. Because the problems examined in this chapter are of relatively recent origin, we cannot propose specific recommendations for institutional strengthening. But we can offer ways of looking at the institutional challenges of governing a changing arctic offshore and suggest how lessons from management regimes in other regions may apply.

Background Due to their unique characteristics, the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas have escaped many, though not all, of the problems encountered in more temperate seas (MMS 2008). For most of the twentieth century, multiyear sea ice provided a barrier to significant industrial activity in the Arctic Ocean (Rayfuse 2007). As the open water period available to industrial use increases (Walsh 2008), new users are expected to follow. Significant and emerging challenges include climate change and the restructuring of seasonal sea ice habitats, ocean acidification, growing marine traffic, and the prevention of oil spills in a challenging operating environment (ACIA 2004; Arctic Council 2009). For thousands of years, the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas served as the nearexclusive hunting preserve for the Iñupiat. There is no tradition here of multiple user groups coexisting. The introduction of new stakeholders—currently oil and gas interests, with shipping, fishing, and tourism in the offing—not only creates the potential for conflict but also taxes existing management and regulatory institutions and raises concerns about the long-term viability of the arctic marine ecosystem. Existing management authorities have now reached the limits of their abilities to effectively include all stakeholders, and important regulatory and management decisions have become increasingly contentious. While the courts provide a last resort for stakeholders who feel they have been excluded from decision making over oil and gas exploration and leasing, resort to legal challenges represents a regulatory failure that is expensive and suboptimal for all stakeholders. As in other parts of the United States, many human uses of the Alaska marine environment are governed by a patchwork of rules stemming from various sectors of federal, state, and local governments. Orderly development of new and existing multiple human uses in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas will require new governance, policy, and management tools. Prominent marine scientists have advocated reform centered on ecosystem-based management (McLeod et al. 2005). Young

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et al. (2007) recommend place-based management arrangements that encompass integrated management of all human uses of the marine environment occurring in spatially delineated areas identified through a public process, taking into account biophysical, socioeconomic, and jurisdictional considerations. Jurisdictions around the world have begun to experiment with ocean governance and management tools designed to foster compatible, sustainable uses of the seascape. In an earlier paper (Haley et al. 2009), we describe in detail the current institutions for stakeholder participation and conflict resolution in oil and gas management. Here we explain why innovations in ocean governance incorporating principles of ecosystem-based management, participatory democracy, and complex systems should be given serious consideration for their ability to protect ocean resources and manage conflict.

Social-Ecological Complexity in Arctic Alaska For millennia the Iñupiat have sustained themselves in a harsh environment by hunting and gathering marine mammals, birds, fish, and vegetation.  Observing this long social-ecological history, Dasmann has called the Iñupiat an “ecosystem people” because of their deep connections to and dependence on the local ecosystem for their survival and identity (Dasmann 1975). Change, from disturbances to the natural environment and contacts with other peoples, has been a regular feature of that history. But in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries western influence, especially since the discovery of oil in Prudhoe Bay, has added complexity and accelerated the rate of change. Broad environmental trends, including climate change, further complicate the situation in ways that are both fundamental and immediate (Chapin et al. 2009). These changes challenge the capacity of existing institutional resources. To remain effective, institutions need to account for increasingly complex and dynamic social and ecological relationships and facilitate working relationships across multiple levels of governance and among increasingly diverse sets of stakeholders (Berkes and Folke 1998; Dale et al. 1998; Levin 1998). The challenges that are the subject of this chapter are relatively new to northern Alaska, but existing social science theory can guide the design of stronger, more effective governing institutions for Alaska’s arctic offshore.

Participatory Democracy and Complex Systems Our argument here is quite simply that complexity is the challenge, and democratization is the way to address it. Recent scholarship on the politics of ecosystem

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management demonstrates the benefits of participatory and deliberative methods of decision making for finding equitable solutions to conflicts over natural resources; but there is still room for argument over the best ways to design democratic institutions. Although those arguments cannot be settled here, by using complexity and democratic theories we can elaborate a set of principles for effective management of complex social-ecological systems for arctic Alaska. In Table 6.6.1, we list general criteria for building institutions that are both efficient and effective in dynamic, complex social-ecological systems (Farrell 2004; Rosenberg 2007). These guidelines address three issues at the heart of democratic decision making: (1) “Representation” addresses the fundamental political questions of who participates, how, and how effectively; (2) “Institutional design” relates to the search for processes capable of responding to changing relationships among stakeholders and the challenges of simultaneously addressing local, national, and international concerns; (3) “Problem articulation” refers to the need to comprehend the different ways that stakeholders perceive what is at stake for them and the different ways they communicate and pursue their interests. Table 6.6.1. Requisite capabilities of democratic institutions for managing complex, adaptive social-ecological systems. Representation • Provide multiple and open-ended methods of stakeholder (self-)identification and inclusion. • Continually assess and compensate for the obstacles that formal and informal venues place on the full participation of particular groups of stakeholders. Institutional design • Accommodate diverse identities, interests, and discourses. • Access multiple modes of communication and problem solving. • Address multiple levels of policymaking, including interdependencies among institutions and organizations. • Be receptive to multiple sources and types of information. • Recognize the impossibility of complete and final resolutions. • Accept the inevitability of conflict. • Create capacity to contend with additional perturbations, shocks, and issues that will result from the impacts of global change. Problem articulation • Recognize a multiplicity of problems emanating from the same source. • Address the underlying sources of conflict while addressing specific disagreements. • Gather, exchange, and communicate knowledge of the worldviews and histories of participants and apply them to institutional processes and design.

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Participatory and Deliberative Democracy When environmental management became a global concern in the 1960s and 1970s, governments relied mainly on regulations made at the national level and “top-down” enforcement by newly created regulatory agencies such as the US Environmental Protection Agency. Academics and practitioners have since learned the value of supplementing or replacing these methods with participatory and “bottom-up” approaches. Recent research shows that when stakeholders’ interests are taken into consideration and their identities respected by policymakers and regulators, they are more likely to trust and cooperate with management institutions. Compliance with environmental regulations goes up and the costs of enforcement go down. Without trust and “buy-in,” stakeholders are more likely to ignore, resist, challenge, or actively undermine the efforts of even the best-intentioned resource managers. Therefore, effective resource management requires institutions that provide effective venues for stakeholder participation to convert the separate interests of disparate groups into a set of shared goals and values (Ager et al. 2005; Janicke 1996; Lipschutz 1996). Broadly speaking, this requires the democratization of policy implementation as well as policymaking. For managing ecosystems, however, formal democratic institutions and processes—such as elections, legislatures, interest groups, political parties, and the rule of law—may be necessary. However, these will not be sufficient to ensure sustainability, even in established democracies such as the United States and Canada ( Janicke 1996). New, more flexible, and innovative institutional arrangements are needed to (1) provide more substantive and reliable opportunities for stakeholders to have direct input into the decisions that affect them; (2) give stakeholders opportunities to influence the ways that decisions are made; (3) create multiple mechanisms for reaching compromises and ameliorating conflict; (4) enhance capacity for recognizing and correcting errors in both decisions and decision-making processes as they occur; (5) identify and include additional stakeholders as well as prepare stakeholders of different backgrounds, cultures, and educational levels for constructive interaction; and (6) provide stakeholders and the general public with timely and reliable information (Chambers 1993, 1995; Rosenberg 2007). 

Complexity and Democratic Institutions In global systems, political issues generally manifest themselves at one or more of three levels: the international (or global), national, and local. Traditionally,

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formal institutions such as governments, international organizations, and nongovernmental organizations—in their attempts to make, implement, or influence policy—focus their efforts on only one of those levels. The requirements of environmental management, however, will usually span all three, especially when an ecosystems management approach is required. For institutions that need to bridge multiple levels, complexity theory offers some general guidance.  Complexity helps us understand why conventional approaches to democracy are unlikely to be sufficient, why even the most carefully designed institutions obsolesce quickly with changing circumstances, and what might be done about it.  Conventional legislative and administrative responses to resource management problems reduce complex issues to lists of discrete problems that can be parceled out to experts in specialized agencies. (See our discussion of the limits of sectoral approaches below.) For efficiency’s sake, agencies develop standard operating procedures that may work well for a while but will eventually limit their ability to respond to new stakeholders, changing interests, and problems that spill over into the jurisdictions of other agencies and other levels of governance. When institutions become rigidly attached to standard operating procedures, even small changes in their working environments can present huge challenges to their continued effectiveness. Such changes can originate in any of the many social or natural subsystems that make up complex ecosystems. Examples of these changes include the introduction of new economic activities, small movements in the human population, variations in wildlife populations, slight rises in water temperature, or slight declines in air quality. In complexity and chaos theories, the problem is illustrated by the classic metaphor of a butterfly’s beating wings disturbing distant weather systems in ways that change local climate and overwhelm the institutions that measure, predict, and respond to weather-related events. But whereas in complex natural systems, the perturbation can be traced to the initial states that lead to a kind of chain reaction, in complex social systems the potential points of origin are several and difficult to isolate. Therefore, to maintain their effectiveness, institutions hoping to manage the effects of socioeconomic as well as natural perturbations must be willing to constantly reevaluate and adjust their own procedures, internal hierarchies, and relationships with other actors (Byrne 1998:18–19). Managing complexity presents powerful challenges to democratic institutions, calling for radical and difficult-to-specify responses that may challenge the meanings and methods of democratic participation. We summarize these challenges as three problems of democratic governance: the representation problem, the institutional design problem, and the issue articulation problem.

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The Representation Problem Although participatory democratic theory explains why active participation by all stakeholders is important, it does not solve participation’s most central problem: how to provide effective and equitable representation for all. Representation is multidimensional. It is not simply a matter of finding the right numbers and proportions of stakeholders and giving them a place at the table. Representation also requires an evolving set of political processes capable of accommodating different styles of deliberation, knowledge systems, and skill sets. It requires venues for decision making that are accessible (physically and culturally) to all stakeholders. Unequal representation is a political problem and therefore a problem of the distribution of power.  The complex scientific and administrative challenges presented by ecosystems management have historically led to a concentration of power in the hands of “experts” (scientific, economic, and administrative) whose methods of deliberating and communicating information can be incomprehensible to other stakeholders. Their work is often carried out in locations that are physically or culturally inaccessible to the stakeholders most directly affected by the policies they make. When “non-expert” stakeholders feel excluded, they may question the legitimacy of “expert” findings, policy recommendations, and institutions. Such “legitimacy gaps” lead to various forms of active or passive resistance on the part of the stakeholders whose cooperation is essential to effective governance. Legitimacy gaps can be bridged by institutions that make a place for the excluded stakeholders and empower them by valuing their knowledge, skills, ways of knowing, and interests (Farrell 2004:472). Furthermore, participation cannot begin or end with a voice in reforming current policies. New or reformed institutions should allow all stakeholders to participate directly in all aspects of policymaking and implementation from the design of new participatory processes, to the making of policy, to the oversight and evaluation of management plans. Institutional flexibility is also essential. Complexity means that change is constant in ecological, social, and political relationships; policy and regulatory failure is inevitable (over the short run); and most actions have unintended and unanticipated consequences. To remain relevant and viable, institutions must remain representative by constantly responding and adjusting to unexpected changes (Little 2008:24).

The Institutional Design Problem The ability of all stakeholders to comprehend, communicate, and act on information is critical to effective democratic institutions. There is a natural affinity between complexity and democracy because knowledge about complex problems is broadly distributed among stakeholders, and no single group will, by itself, comprehend “the whole truth” (Farrell 2004:475).

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Democracy is undermined by what economists call “asymmetric information”—the unequal access among stakeholders to the information they need to pursue their interests—which can create or reinforce asymmetries of power within institutions. Knowledge may be power, but only if that knowledge influences political decisions that affect one’s interests. In remote and culturally distinct regions such as arctic Alaska, local stakeholders can be severely disadvantaged by asymmetries of information. A privileged place is given to western scientific knowledge and national economic interests in managing arctic resources. This information asymmetry locates power in an alien world of “experts” working in governmental agencies and faraway corporate headquarters. While some such institutions have democratized over time, debate within them is mainly over contending views within scientific communities (Farrell 2004:472–473), and the perspectives of “non-expert” stakeholders are undervalued, overlooked, or actively excluded. Therefore, even institutions that invite the formal participation of local stakeholders can still be quite hierarchical. To fully embrace complexity, institutions need to flatten hierarchies among different types of stakeholders by putting all sources and types of information on equal footing. That will not be easy to do since, as “expert” institutions, these hierarchies have been built into the institutions from their beginnings. Therefore, institutional strengthening begins not by convening experts to tinker with the organizational structures of existing institutions but by establishing new, original, and open processes for collecting and translating the different “storylines” of stakeholders who use a wide array of methods for gathering and communicating information.

The Articulation Problem Different stakeholders may believe that they are addressing the same issue, but they experience the problems and opportunities of ecosystems management quite differently. For example, to some stakeholders, an environmental problem will present itself as a management problem; to others a technical problem; to others a matter of social, cultural, or ethnic discrimination or a recent manifestation of a historical wrong; to others an economic asset or liability; to others a conflict between “modern” and “traditional” uses of knowledge and resources; and to others a problem of intergovernmental or international relations. Conventional institutional arrangements are usually limited, by design and mandate, to recognizing and addressing only one facet of a complex problem. Complexity theorists use the concept “path dependence” to explain problems that arise from the different ways that stakeholders articulate a problem and the limitations of conventional institutions. Path dependence means that the historical experiences and “storylines” of stakeholders shape their customary approaches to

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problem articulation and problem solving. Different stakeholders will give different meanings and priorities to the same items on an organization’s agenda. The challenge to institutions is to find ways to help stakeholders see their different articulations as facets of the same problem. This is a capacity that few specialized institutions possess. Institutions must learn to embrace uncertainty and accept rather than simplify complexity. As Little (2008:24–25) points out, “political actors are never dealing with a settled, static set of issues on which other actors concur” and “political attempts to deal with or resolve contentious issues are never complete.” Problem-solving activities can provide remedies for a time, but they should not be expected to produce final solutions. In other words, change is constant, conflict is inevitable, and all solutions are temporary. Therefore, democratic approaches must solve the problem of problem articulation by providing multiple ways of addressing the underlying causes of conflict among stakeholders; they will need the flexibility to adjust their processes as conditions, actors, and interests change.  Institution-building for the Alaska Arctic offshore that follows the precepts of participatory democracy and complexity theory will be more an act of discovery than an act of creation. Recommendations for institutional design that come from complexity approaches are purposely vague. Essentially they are as follows: (1) Do whatever it takes to redistribute power in ways that will allow “ecosystem peoples” to articulate and pursue their interests in a constantly shifting landscape of institutions, processes, and stakeholders, and (2) Recognize that the “truth” is distributed across multiple levels and stakeholders, and that each fragment or version of the truth must be included in problem identification and articulation before it can be represented effectively in problem solving.

Special Challenges and Opportunities In the recent Norwegian Polar Institute report “Best Practices in EcosystemBased Oceans Management in the Arctic,” a range of special considerations for the Alaska Arctic offshore region are identified. These considerations reflect the complexity of existing management and social structures and the special characteristics of the natural and human environments, including “ice-covered waters, trans-boundary cooperation, fisheries management, exploitation of petroleum under severe climatic conditions, long-range transport of pollutants, indigenous communities, socio-economic growth and sustainability issues, and the impacts of climate change” (Håkon Hoel 2009:8). In addition, Hopcroft et al. (2008) issued a comprehensive report outlining data gaps for this entire region, and a 2009 joint report of the Department of the Interior Minerals Management Service and the US Geological Survey also identified data gaps for the Outer Continental Shelf

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(USDOI 2009). These reports highlight the need for greatly improved data collection, management, and distribution for the Arctic. Fortunately, there is a high level of interest among arctic stakeholders in collaboration around data needs. For example, in 2009 the Alaska Ocean Observing System and the North Pacific Research Board spearheaded this effort with an Arctic Research and Monitoring Workshop aimed at promoting collaboration between various groups involved in marine research in the region. The arctic ecosystem is also unique in the extensive and distinctive place-based knowledge of subsistence users. The knowledge of subsistence communities will be a key part of filling data gaps for the Arctic. It will be especially important for meeting the need for finer scale data to inform decisions about access to resources and areas within the region that may have multiple and competing uses and could generate conflict among stakeholders. This “human dimension” of planning processes, while widely acknowledged to be a critical part of any institutional analysis of the resource management problems, is unfortunately also often the largest data gap (Douvere and Ehler 2008). Resource management institutions need to be innovative, boundary-crossing, and holistic. But even those that embrace the rhetoric of participatory and holistic approaches will fall short if they do not make subsistence users and local communities key participants in defining and implementing meaningful goals and methods of governance. Ironically, perhaps, in addressing the three problems of democratic resource management outlined above, the underrepresented may need to be “overrepresented” at least for a time. National economic interests may favor the aggressive pursuit of new energy sources in the Alaska Arctic and elsewhere. And, to the extent elected federal and state officials represent a majority of the citizenry, it may be argued that that position was arrived at democratically. But it is undemocratic in the sense discussed if the decision process did not involve a full consideration of the uniqueness of the ecosystem and the relative costs of development to different groups of stakeholders. In other words, participatory democracy demands that a position be based on a full and equitable hearing of everyone’s account of what is at stake. For cultural, legal, historic, and geographic reasons, the close relationship between indigenous peoples and the ecosystems they are coupled to warrants the recognition of special status within a governance regime. Local actors, embedded in the system that is to be governed, have the greatest stake in the outcomes of the policy process (Stringer et al. 2006). Environmental policymaking in the United States has a long history of protecting minority or “disproportionately affected” populations from government action through environmental justice provisions. The special interests of indigenous peoples in the United States are to be protected by the trust relationship between their governments and the federal government as

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defined through treaties, legal precedents, policy directives, and public law (Case 2002). Furthermore, “ecosystem peoples” such as the Iñupiat have local ecological expertise that is a valuable complement to western scientific knowledge for hazard assessment and management decisions, particularly where the scientific data are sparse to nonexistent (Eicken et al., Chapter 7.5, this volume). Another distinctive feature in the present case is that under the Alaska Constitution, home-rule governments such as the (Iñupiaq majority) North Slope Borough have primary jurisdiction over all planning and regulatory matters not preempted by state law. The North Slope Borough Wildlife Department has, over the last thirty years, built up incomparable scientific expertise on the wildlife and ecosystems of the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas to inform management decision making in the region.

Ecosystem-Based Management A new, more directly democratic institutional design must simultaneously address complexity in the ocean ecosystem. The concept of ecosystem-based management has received increasing attention in the past several years as the need to move beyond conventional sector-bysector management has become more apparent (McLeod and Leslie 2009). This is not because sectoral management is inappropriate. Rather, it is because it is insufficient to meet current challenges presented by human activities and the long-term sustainability of healthy marine ecosystems, including the human communities that depend on those healthy ecosystems. Sectoral management is characterized by setting goals for a single, sometimes complex, sector of human activity such as fisheries, transportation, or energy and then developing management plans for the set of activities within the sector. Impacts on the environment broadly or conflicts with other sectors are dealt with as adjuncts to the principal goals for the sector itself. For example, energy management plans have primary goals with regard to energy production, fisheries management for sustainable fisheries production, and so forth. Conflicts may be considered by the managing agency in the context of broad environmental assessments such as under the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), or addressed politically based on an implicit trade-off between the sectors. So, if energy infrastructure or operations conflict with fishery production, there is no clear mechanism for resolving the conflict because each sector is managed under a separate mandate. The overarching statutes such as NEPA do not give guidance or clear standards for resolving conflicts among sectoral agencies. It is not clear that sectoral management can deal with the cumulative impacts of multiple human activities affecting a marine ecosystem.

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Ecosystem-based management (EBM) calls for an overall framework for management planning and decision making that is cross-sectoral. First and foremost, the goal for an EBM approach to management is conserving and maintaining a marine ecosystem in a healthy, resilient condition such that it can provide a full suite of ecosystem services to support human well-being (McLeod et al. 2005). The services that support human societies have been categorized (Millenium Ecosystem Assessment 2005) as provisioning services (e.g., food, water), supporting services (e.g., biodiversity), regulating services (e.g., climate regulation), and cultural services (e.g., traditional uses). A full suite of services includes all of these, though sectoral management plans tend to focus mostly on provisioning services. In an EBM approach, maintaining the capacity of the ecosystem to provide these services now and in the future includes the concept of sustainability inherently. Focusing attention for management planning on an ecosystem scale, as opposed to traditional jurisdictional boundaries, enables consideration of the positive and negative interactions of different sectors of human activities within an ecosystem and cumulative impacts of those activities on the health and resilience of the system. This is particularly important because cumulative impacts may not be additive, but multiplicative or have threshold effects triggering a radical system change (Halpern et al. 2007). In a sector-by-sector approach, the impacts of one sector on another are only considered implicitly and resolved politically without full information and often at a great distance from place-bound stakeholders. In an EBM approach, trade-offs between sectors must be explicit and clearly evaluated. Ecosystem-based management is inherently interactive with stakeholders. It is iterative, rather than a stand-alone scientific advisory process. Typical management decisions and activities such as setting of goals, choosing ecosystem boundaries, prioritizing services and features, scenario modeling, and valuation all need ongoing stakeholder input to bring information to the table, to give perspective on options, and to continually test policy solutions in a real-world context. As new information becomes available, the EBM process must continue to adapt.

Approaches to Ocean Governance How, then, do we move from an interesting theoretical puzzle to institutions that embrace complexity, rectify historical inequities, and formulate policies that will reflect the range and intensity of stakeholder preferences? Orderly development of new and existing multiple human uses in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas will require new governance, policy, and management tools to better understand sources of and methods for addressing conflict and fostering ocean ecosystem resilience. There are many conventional approaches that would

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strengthen local stakeholder involvement and potentially reduce conflict. These approaches include strengthening local powers under the Alaska Coastal Zone Management Act (CZMA), expanding co-management, establishing a regional citizens’ advisory council, or establishing marine protected areas. However, the task of managing multiple, sometimes competing, uses in the ocean is more complex than these available tools (Crowder et al. 2006). More comprehensive approaches in other US and foreign jurisdictions include integrated oceans management, marine spatial planning, or ocean governance (Crowder et al. 2006; Rutherford et al. 2005; Young et al. 2007). Similar to the CZMA, ocean governance would not replace existing institutions (e.g., for oil and gas development, fisheries, marine mammal conservation, shipping, etc.) but would overlay a process of determining where compatible uses could occur. It would then design monitoring programs to manage for or against particular ecosystem thresholds (Crowder et al. 2006), such as a particular noise level or a level of disturbance to subsistence activities. Initiatives at the federal, state, local, and international levels are converging to promote new institutions for ocean governance. In a memorandum dated June 12, 2009, President Obama established the Ocean Policy Task Force with a mandate to develop ocean policy recommendations, stating, “To succeed in protecting the oceans, coasts, and Great Lakes, the United States needs to act within a unifying framework under a clear national policy, including a comprehensive ecosystembased framework for the long-term conservation and use of our resources” (Obama 2009). The task force recommended the following strategies to implement this policy vision (CEQ 2009a): • • • •

•

Adopt ecosystem-based management as a foundational principle for the comprehensive management of marine and coastal environments. Implement comprehensive, integrated, ecosystem-based coastal and marine spatial planning and management. Increase knowledge to continually inform and improve management and policy decisions as well as the capacity to respond to change and challenges; better educate the public about the marine environment. Better coordinate and support federal, state, tribal, local, and regional management of the marine environment; improve coordination and integration across the federal government and, potentially, the international community. Address environmental stewardship needs in the Arctic Ocean and adjacent coastal areas in the face of climate-induced and other environmental changes.

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Among the stated goals and principles are reducing user conflicts, streamlining regulatory processes, and increasing certainty for new investments, with commitment to adaptive and flexible ecosystem-based management and to stakeholder engagement. The planning process would be implemented by nine or more regional bodies (corresponding to defined large marine ecosystems) composed of states and federally recognized tribes, including Alaska Native villages (CEQ 2009b). It remains to be seen how this might be implemented in the Alaska Arctic. Some states did not wait for federal leadership. Several coastal states have been building constituencies for ocean policy, outlining visions, and initiating plans prior to federal policy development. Massachusetts developed an ocean management task force in 2003, charged with developing recommendations for managing human uses of the ocean. This effort created a foundation for initial studies and planning activities, which then led to a comprehensive policy, the Oceans Act of 2008. The Oceans Act required the Massachusetts secretary of energy and environmental affairs to develop a comprehensive plan to manage human uses of the marine environment in state waters through the state’s Office of Coastal Zone Management. The act also required the state to develop the plan through a scientific and stakeholder process. To that end, as of August 2009, Massachusetts has held a series of public hearings, created an Ocean Advisory Commission made up of government agencies and select stakeholders and advised by an Ocean Science Advisory Council with expertise in marine sciences and data management. The state has also completed a draft management plan and convened two public workshops to gain feedback on the plan (Massachusetts 2009). Structurally, the Oceans Act did not change the jurisdiction of the state’s Division of Marine Fisheries to alter fisheries policy but instead allows the state to plan other uses for their compatibility with fishing and vice versa. The act also builds on the state’s Ocean Sanctuaries Act, in that the ocean management plan is aided through the authority of the state to delineate marine protected areas. Ehler and Douvere (2009) note that most marine spatial management initiatives begin with new authorities for planning but implement the new ocean plan through existing authorities and offices, such as the state coastal zone management program. The Environmental Law Institute (2008) has begun to explore the role of existing stakeholder bodies in promoting ecosystem-based ocean management, building on their significant local expertise. In particular, it has considered the role of federally chartered marine mammal co-management groups such as the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission. Several regions in North America and around the world have developed trans-boundary planning or governance entities to aid in marine spatial management. The Gulf of Maine Council on the Marine Environment was established in

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1989 by regional governments linking the coasts and people of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts. The council was established as a regional forum to exchange information and engage in long-term planning. Recent activities include the development of an action plan for 2007 to 2012, a partnership to further the use of ecosystem indicators, and a habitats mapping exercise (GMCME 2009). The council does not implement ocean management plans but serves as a site of social learning and collective action to inform planning and managing within jurisdictions. In the eastern Beaufort along the coasts of the Yukon and Northwest Territories, the Canadian government, territorial governments, and the Inuvialuit have built upon co-management institutions designed in the 1984 Inuvialuit Final Agreement (IFA) to govern resource development while protecting the environment and subsistence cultures. The co-management structures have enabled the development of a multi-stakeholder process for marine spatial planning within the Canadian portion of the Beaufort Sea, called the Beaufort Sea Integrated Management Planning Initiative. Parties to the initiative include the Fisheries Joint Management Committee, the Inuvialuit Game Council, the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation, Fisheries and Oceans Canada, Indian and Northern Affairs Canada, and the Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers. An earlier model for holistic, ecosystem-based management is the Integrated Management of the Marine Environment of the Barents Sea and Sea Areas off the Lofoten Island plan adopted by the Norwegian Ministry of Environment in 2006. The plan sets forth an overall framework for both existing and new activities (IMMEBS 2006). The cases referenced above, and complementary technical efforts such as marine spatial planning and ocean zoning, deserve further study. In each of these approaches, we see movement toward addressing the three core problems of governance in complex systems: representation, institutional design, and problem articulation. These approaches show potential to compensate for some of the weaknesses of existing institutions, but it remains to be seen whether they can provide the adaptation to rapidly changing conditions and a multiplicity of interests demanded by arctic offshore ecosystems. The tenets of complexity theory and participatory democracy suggest that each institutional arrangement should be uniquely designed and highly responsive to changes within its particular environment. It should not be expected that these examples will provide ready-made templates for institutional strengthening in the Alaska Arctic offshore. However, they may help answer some of the basic questions that still need to be explored: To what extent can reform of existing institutions at the local or regional levels correct problems of efficacy in managing complex marine social-ecological systems? What can the creation of new institutions meant to overlay or complement existing institutions

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contribute? What is the relationship between particular approaches to institutional (re)design and more effective and equitable inclusion of place-bound stakeholders? Can a greater emphasis on the interests of local stakeholders be sustained against pressures coming from stakeholders with conflicting goals and their own claims to democratically obtained legitimate authority over offshore resources?

Conclusion There is no silver bullet to resolve the long-standing conflicts over the scope, timing, and terms of development for offshore oil and gas in arctic Alaska. But strengthening institutions for local involvement in marine resource planning and governance may help. Instituting an ecosystem approach in planning and governance will also help to protect Arctic Ocean resources and resilience in an era of rapid change and uncertainty. The Environmental Law Institute recently assessed the feasibility of developing a marine ecosystem-based management (EBM) program in arctic Alaska (Mengerink et al. 2009). It concluded that the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas were the best place to start, and that targeted education and outreach are the necessary first steps toward building the requisite constituent support.

References Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA). 2004. Impacts of a warming Arctic: Arctic climate impact assessment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ager, W. N., K. Brown, and E. L. Tompkins. 2005. The political economy of cross-scale networks in resource co-management. Ecology and Society 10(2), 9. Available at http:// www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol10/iss2/art9/. Alaska Wilderness League v. Kempthorne. 548 F.3d 815 (9th Cir. Nov 20, 2008). Arctic Council. 2009. Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 report. http://www.pame.is/ images/stories/PDF_Files/AMSA_2009_Report_2nd_print.pdf. Berkes, F., and C. Folke (eds.). 1998. Linking social and ecological systems: Management practices and social mechanisms for building resilience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Byrne, D. 1998. Complexity theory and the social sciences: An introduction. London and New York: Routledge. Case, D. 2002. Alaska Natives and American laws. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Chambers, R. 1993. Challenging the professions: Frontiers for rural development. Brighton: Intermediate Technology Publications.

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Chambers, R. 1995. NGOs and development: The primacy of the personal. Institute of Development Studies working paper 14. Brighton: University of Sussex. Chapin, F. S., III, G. P. Kofinas, and C. Folke. 2009. Principles of ecosystem stewardship: Resilience-based natural resource management in a changing world. New York: Springer-Verlag. Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ). 2009a. Interim report of the Interagency Ocean Policy Task Force (September 10). Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ). 2009b. Interim framework for effective coastal and marine spatial planning (December 9). Crowder, L. B., G. Osherenko, O. R. Young, S. Airame, E. A. Norse, N. Baron, J. C. Day, F. Bouvere, C. N. Ehler, B. S. Halpern, S. J. Langdon, K. L. McLeod, J. C. Ogden, R. E. Peach, A. A. Rosenberg, and J. A. Wilson. 2006. Sustainability—Resolving mismatches in US ocean governance. Science 313, 617–618. Dale, V. H., A. E. Lugo, J. A. MacMahon, T. A. Steward, and S. T. A. Pickett. 1998. Ecosystem management in the context of large, infrequent disturbances. Ecosystems 1, 546–557. Dasmann, R. F. 1975. Ecosystem people. I.U.C.N. Bulletin. Reprinted 1976 in Parks 1. Douvere, F., and C. Ehler. 2008. Introduction. Marine Policy 32, 759–761. Ehler, C., and F. Douvere. 2009. Marine spatial planning: A step-by-step approach toward ecosystem-based management. Edited by Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission and Man and the Biosphere Programme: IOC Manual and Guides No. 53, ICAM Dossier No. 6., 2009. UNESCO, Paris. Environmental Law Institute. 2008. Integrated ecosystem-based management of the US arctic marine environment. Washington DC. Farrell, K. N. 2004. Recapturing fugitive power: Epistemology, complexity and democracy. Local Environment 9(5), 469–479. Gulf of Maine Council on the Marine Environment (GMCME). 2009. About the Council. Retrieved from www.gulfofmaine.org/council. Håkon Hoel, A. (ed.). 2009. Best practices in ecosystem-based oceans management in the Arctic. Tromso: Norsk Polarinstitutt/Norwegian Polar Institute Polar Environmental Centre. Haley, S., M. Galginaitis, G. Gray, C. Meek, J. Powell, J. Rosenberg, and B. Valcic. 2009. Strengthening institutions: Local involvement in offshore oil and gas management. Proceedings of the Lessons from Continuity and Change in the Fourth International Polar Year Symposium, Fairbanks (March). Inland Northwest Research Association, http:// institute.inra.org/ipy/post%20symposium.html. Halpern, B. S., K. L. McLeod, A. A. Rosenberg, and L. B. Crowder. 2007. Managing for cumulative impacts in ecosystem-based management through ocean zoning. Ocean and Coastal Management 51, 8.

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Hopcroft, R., B. Bluhm, and R. Gradinger. 2008. Arctic Ocean synthesis: Analysis of climate change impacts in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas with strategies for future research. Institute of Marine Sciences, University of Alaska Fairbanks. Integrated Management of the Marine Environment of the Barents Sea and the Sea Areas off the Lofoten Islands (IMMEBS). 2006. Norwegian Ministry of the Environment Report No. 8 to the Storting (2005-2006). Retrieved from http://www .regjeringen. no/en/dep/md/ Selected-topics/hav--og-vannforvaltning /integrated-management-of-the-barents-sea.html?id=87148. Janicke, M. 1996. Democracy as a condition for environmental policy success: The importance of non-institutional factors. In Democracy and the environment: Problems and prospects. Edited by W. M. Lafferty and J. Meadowcroft. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Publishing Ltd. Levin, S. 1998. Ecosystems and the biosphere as complex adaptive systems. Ecosystems 1, 431–436. Lipschutz, R. D. 1996. Global civil society and global environmental governance: The politics of nature from place to planet. Albany: State University of New York Press. Little, A. 2008. Democratic piety: Complexity, conflict and violence. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Massachusetts, State of. 2009. Massachusetts Ocean Plan Overview. Retrieved from www. mass.gov. McLeod, K. L., and H. M. Leslie. 2009. Ecosystem-based management for the oceans. Washington DC: Island Press. McLeod, K. L., J. Lubchenco, S. Palumbi, and A. A. Rosenberg. 2005. Scientific consensus statement on marine ecosystem-based management. Communication Partnership for Science and the Sea (COMPASS). Retrieved from http://www.compassonline .org/pdf_files/EBM_Consensus_Statement_v12.pdf. Mengerink, K., A. Schempp, and J. Austin. 2009. Ocean and coastal ecosystem-based management: Implementation handbook. Washington DC: Environmental Law Institute. Millennium Ecosystem Assessment. 2005. Ecosystems and human well-being: Synthesis. Washington DC: Island Press. Mineral Management Service (MMS) (ed.). 2008. Draft Environmental Impact Statement. Beaufort and Chukchi Sea planning areas, oil and gas lease sales 209, 212, 217, and 221. Retrieved from http://www.Mms.Gov/Alaska/Ref/Eis%20ea /Arcticmultisale_ 209/_Deis.Htm. Obama, B. 2009. Memorandum for the Heads of Executive Departments and Agencies. Subject: National Policy for the Oceans, Our Coasts, and the Great Lakes. http:// www.gpoaccess.gov/presdocs/2009/DCPD-200900458.pdf Pew Oceans Commission. 2003. America’s living oceans: Charting a course for sea change. Arlington, VA: Pew Oceans Commission.

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Rayfuse, R. 2007. Melting moments: The future of polar oceans governance in a warming world. Review of European Community & International Environmental Law 16(2), 196–216. Rosenberg, J. 2007. Development assistance, the environment, and stakeholder participation: Toward a new conditionality? In Globalization and uncertainty. Edited by F. Lopez-Alves and D. Johnson. New York and London: Palgrave/Macmillan. Rutherford, R. J., G. J. Herbert, and S. S. Coffen-Smout. 2005. Integrated ocean management and the collaborative planning process: The Eastern Scotian Shelf Integrated Management (ESSIM) Initiative. Marine Policy 29, 79–83. Stringer, L. C., A. J. Dougill, E. Fraser, K. Hubacek, C. Prell, and M. S. Reed. 2006. Unpacking “participation” in the adaptive management of social-ecological systems: A critical review. Ecology and Society 11(2), 39. Available at http://www .ecologyandsociety.org/vol11/iss2/art39/. US Commission on Ocean Policy. 2004. An ocean blueprint for the 21st century, Final Report of the US Commission on Ocean Policy. Washington DC. US Department of the Interior (USDOI). 2009. Survey of available data on OCS resources and identification of data gaps. Minerals Management Service (MMS), United States Geological Survey (USGS), Washington DC. Walsh, J. E. 2008. Climate of the arctic marine environment. Ecological Applications 18(2), S3–S22. Young, O. R., G. Osherenko, J. Ekstrom, L. B. Crowder, J. Ogden, J. A. Wilson, J. C. Day, F. Douvere, C. N. Ehler, K. L. McLeod, B. S. Halpren, and R. Peach. 2007. Solving the crisis in ocean governance: Place-based management of marine ecosystems. Environment 49(4), 20–32.

6.7

Futures of Arctic Marine Transport 2030: An Explorative Scenario Approach by marc mueller-stoffels and hajo eicken

S

cenarios are valuable tools for decision-makers. The prediction of the future development of most real systems is inherently complex and marred with uncertainties. That is, forecasting the development of the real world, or a subsystem thereof, is difficult and expensive. Furthermore, different forecast models for the same system often yield different results. Scenarios allow us to develop and bring into focus several different but equally plausible images of future developments. These images can help decisionmakers plan for a range of futures and be better prepared in the face of uncertainty. Furthermore, scenarios can be a useful tool in identifying indicators that can be tracked and provide early indications of the future development and its path and progression. An in-depth explanation of how scenarios are developed, including their strengths and shortcomings, is given in Chapter 1.3 of this book. Here, after a brief introduction to scenarios as a tool for anticipating future developments, we consider in more detail how scenario development and analysis of experts’ input can help gauge the range of plausible futures for shipping in the Arctic Ocean region over the next few decades. Explorative scenario processes consist of four stages: (1) gathering of information relevant for the problem at hand, (2) evaluation and synthesis of this information to develop raw scenarios, (3) review and revision to develop final scenarios, and (4) use of scenarios to develop strategies that take advantage of anticipated future outcomes and help alleviate the potential impacts of adverse developments. The first stage usually takes the form of a workshop of experts and stakeholders who are knowledgeable or somehow linked to the problem or system

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under investigation. The scenario developer or futurist leading such a workshop typically stimulates the participants to think about the important factors (key factors) driving the system’s development and about possible development of these key factors (future projections). The information gathered in the workshop is then further researched and key factors and future projections are clearly defined. In the second stage, the gathered future projections are evaluated as to how plausible they are and whether they are consistent with each other. These evaluations in combination with the future projections can then help assess possible future developments in their entirety. Due to the large amount of information involved, this process is usually computer software aided. The resulting raw scenarios are further analyzed and refined in the third stage. The aim is to select three to five raw scenarios that cover a wide variety of futures. The selected raw scenarios are then further developed into the final scenarios. The fourth stage consists of the application of the scenarios for planning and strategy development. In this final, application-driven phase, the scenarios themselves can be further refined through frequent comparison with the actual situation. This will allow the researchers to identify early indicators hinting at which scenario will be closest to the actual future development. Such information can then be used to adjust strategic plans. Unfortunately, this last step is often neglected. As scenarios only describe how the future might evolve and lay no claim to being accurate forecasts, the user has to keep a close eye on the direction the real world is taking in relation to the projections. This validation is important as it is likely that actual developments will be a hybrid of two or more scenarios, and a strategy developed based on any one scenario may need to be adjusted accordingly. Scenario processes have been successfully employed in state, regional, local, and corporate planning and hazard or disaster response. Public scenario processes, such as the one employed in this study, can be used to bring about a conversation between different stakeholders and to stimulate thinking “outside the box” when faced with challenging or uncertain outcomes. Scenario development is of particular value for the North, where a range of different interests and concerns are increasingly entangled. The Arctic is home to indigenous peoples and more recent settlers. It harbors diverse habitats and ecosystems, plays a major role in the global climate system, and is rich in natural resources. As socioeconomic, geopolitical, and climate change sweep across the North, planning for the future by one particular stakeholder or interest group can no longer occur in isolation of the broader complex of change. Scenario development can help to open up strategic planning to consider the complex and broad range of plausible developments in store for the North. In this contribution, we examine possible futures for shipping and other events associated with marine transportation in the Arctic Ocean and its coastal regions for the time frame 2030 to 2050. Key factors for plausible future developments in

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the Arctic were identified based on the data accumulated in an expert workshop of the Arctic Council’s Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment (AMSA) led by futurists of the Global Business Network (GBN). While this contribution is not part of the formal AMSA process, it builds on the intellectual effort of AMSA and explores to what extent robustness analysis (Mueller-Stoffels et al. 2009) can help refine, evaluate, and further validate some of the AMSA scenarios (Arctic Council 2009; Brigham 2007). We present four scenarios based on this analysis, which delves deeper into the information provided by workshop participants and examines it for its consistency by drawing on computer software and further reviews by experts.

Robustness Analysis The notes from the first of two AMSA Scenarios Workshops supplied us with a list of important factors and forces for the development of arctic marine transportation as identified by the experts participating in the workshop. The items in this list were assigned two scores: (1) uncertainty and (2) importance, with values ranging from 0 to 15. The sum of uncertainty and importance was used as a sorting criterion and the top twenty items on the list were selected as key factors. Later, several of these were merged, leaving us with seventeen key factors. Key factors (KF) are the basis for the robustness analysis. They are the factors considered to be most likely to influence the development of the field under investigation, in this case marine transportation, including offshore and coastal development. In such a context, one key factor would be the arctic climate, which controls ice conditions and constrains the extent of shipping possible at different times of year. Each of these KF is assigned two or more future projections (FP). FP are the possible ways a KF could develop. For the KF “Climate,” for example, the FP include (1) a mild arctic climate as experienced during the Cretaceous period in the earth’s history, (2) a largely ice-free Arctic with severe weather that constrains shipping, (3) a seasonally ice-covered Arctic with mild ice conditions favoring shipping, (4) an ice-covered Arctic that allows shipping but poses significant hazards, or (5) a major cooling episode (“New Ice Age”) that greatly hinders Arctic-wide shipping. Figures 6.7.2–6.7.5 list the different KF and their respective FP, with the KF in the first column and respective FP tabulated to the right. Definitions for the KF and FP were developed, where possible, based on peerreviewed literature. Note, however, that this was not possible for all of the FP, since some are well outside the realm of current research and evidence. Nonetheless, such FP are valid and need to be considered, as they are an integral part of the entire set of projections, which is meant to enclose a range of possible future developments. Further, each FP is assigned a plausibility value ranging between 0 (not plausible)

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and 1 (very plausible). The plausibility values of a KF’s set of FP must add up to 1, since the scenarios are developed to encompass the entire range of possible options. After completing this step of the analysis, the results were published online for public and expert comment and further refinement. Unfortunately, participation levels in this process were rather low. With a total of four respondents (covering the areas of geophysics and scenario methods), only a small percentage of experts and stakeholders targeted (approximately two hundred) participated. In addition to the outside experts, the scenarios were evaluated by the authors. Ensuring broad participation in this step of the process is challenging and ideally requires that the plausibility analysis is tied directly into the scenarios workshop process. After analyzing the responses, the third stage of scenario development is to develop raw scenarios consisting of a set of FP, one drawn from each KF. Using the FP with the highest respective plausibility, we can identify the most plausible raw scenario. However, such a raw scenario might contain combinations of FP that are inconsistent and hence unlikely to appear as part of the same future. Therefore, all FP are compared with each other and the potential pairings then assigned a consistency value, ranging from -2 (totally inconsistent) to 2 (totally consistent). This process generates the consistency matrix. From the consistency matrix, we can determine the most consistent raw scenarios; however, these might not be plausible. Thus, from the perspective of strategic planning, a good raw scenario is one that is robust, combining high scores for both plausibility and consistency. Additionally, the robustness of a raw scenario is reduced by the score associated with partial inconsistencies, that is, those with pair-wise consistency values of -1.5 or less. Robustness, plausibility, and consistency are relative measures, such that they can only be employed to compare raw scenarios based on the same set of KF and FP; they do not allow for comparisons between independently developed scenarios. Further, we introduced two wild cards (see Figs. 6.7.2, 6.7.4, and 6.7.5, last two rows), defined as very unlikely events that, should they occur, have an extremely high impact on the field under investigation (Steinmüller and Steinmüller 2004). Here we considered two such events, a global-scale cold-war-like confrontation involving arctic littoral nations and a deterioration of arctic weather and climate due to breakdown of the global thermohaline ocean circulation. We tested the stability of selected raw scenarios under occurrence of these wild cards. The sheer number of possible combinations of FP requires that the selection process for raw scenarios be software aided. Further, a combinatorial problem, which is computationally intensive, required us to use a genetic algorithm to retrieve desirable raw scenarios. Genetic algorithms are a class of random directed search algorithms, which are powerful in finding good approximate solutions if the general form of the solution is known (e.g., here raw scenarios with high robustness values). Analytical algorithms for the consistency analysis exist. However, for

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the present project’s size, access to a supercomputer would be mandatory to run such algorithms. Thus using a genetic algorithm greatly reduces the cost of the project, while the accuracy of the software-aided output is only slightly reduced (Michalewicz 1996). Due to the amount of data accumulated by defining KF and FP and generating the consistency matrix and raw scenario bundles, it is not possible to give in-depth information here. Please visit our comprehensive website at http://seaice.scenlab .com for further information.

Scenarios The final scenarios were obtained by selecting a subset of raw scenarios from the software carrying out the robustness analysis. The criteria employed for the selection of raw scenarios were (1) no more than two partial inconsistencies allowed, (2) a combination of high robustness, consistency, and plausibility values is given preference, (3) a high diversity present in the set of selected raw scenarios. Below, we provide three final scenarios derived from highest-scoring raw scenarios, that is, from the most robust, the most consistent, and the most plausible raw scenario, respectively. The fourth scenario was arbitrarily identified to diversify the range of futures covered by the analysis. The raw scenarios utilized for this fourth scenario are in no way special but were picked deliberately because of their difference from the first three scenarios. They build on the initial work completed by the contributors to the AMSA process, as described by Brigham (2007). Similar to the final AMSA scenarios, we see “Governance” and “Resources and Trade” as key driving factors for development in the Arctic. Figure 6.7.1 shows a “coordinate system” of these factors that was used as part of AMSA to identify and

Arctic Race

Resources & Trade

Figure 6.7.1. Scenario “coordinate system” used in the AMSA process. On the horizontal axis a scenario describing good governance would place to the right. On the vertical axis a scenario describing poor resources and trade would place toward the bottom.

Arctic Saga

Governance

Polar Lows

Polar Preserve

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compare different scenarios. This approach provides a good, broad overview of the scenarios. However, much information is lost and, arguably, scenarios could plot in the same location in this coordinate system for different reasons. Furthermore, placement is subjective: For example, good governance may be defined differently by a corporate entity as compared to a native village. Thus, we decided to accompany each scenario by a morphological matrix (Figs. 6.7.2–6.7.5). The row headers of these matrices are the key factors of the project, with their respective future projections residing to the right. Future projections are color-coded for their plausibility value; the darker the color, the higher the respective plausibility value. Lines in the morphological matrix represent raw scenarios, which were utilized in the generation of the respective final scenario.

Scenario 1: Robust Development This scenario is derived from the most robust raw scenario bundle. Figure 6.7.2 gives an overview of this raw scenario and similar raw scenarios that support the final scenario in this section. From Figures 6.7.2–6.7.5 it is evident that all four raw scenarios do not deviate significantly from each other. The scenario: By 2030, disputes over boundary lines and usage rights in the Arctic Ocean are not fully resolved. However, these issues are no impediment to industrial development in the region, and disputes between littoral states are handled on a case-by-case basis. Regulation of national arctic waters is moderate but inconsistent among the littoral states. There is no multilateral plan for or enforcement of regulations. One outcome of this unilateral approach by littoral states is the non-uniform handling of responses to oil spills and other accidents or disasters. This leads to critical and negative publicity even for small accidents and to an unwillingness of the maritime insurance industry to fully cover traffic through arctic waters. The warming trend in the Arctic continues but is less pronounced than some reports predicted. Thus ice conditions in most of the Arctic provide a moderate window for development and shipping operations. At the same time, variability in ice conditions from year to year impedes steady development in some areas. Due to overall moderate global economic growth, the pressure on other shipping routes has increased steadily but not excessively. World trade patterns have changed little, and high transit fees make it difficult for the northern shipping routes to be competitive. The main drivers of development in the Arctic are new resource discoveries. The pressure on resources elsewhere accelerates this development. This leads to conflicts with the indigenous people of the North, who are also affected by climate

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Legal Framework Global Trade Dynamics Climate

Arctic Treaty System Low Growth

Tense Relationships Moderate High Growth Growth

Status Quo

Armed Conflict

Industrial Collapse Explosion of Global Economy New Ice Free - Seasonal Seasonal New Ice Ice Cretate- Severe Ice Age ous Period Weather Shippable Dangerous Increasing Stable InStable Safety of Pressure crease of Demand Other Traffic Routes Soc.-Econ. Worldwide Regional Gain & Impact of Loss & Loss & CooperaClimate Conflict Conflict tion Steady Cheap Oil Prices UnpreStable dictable Rise, PreOil Oscillation dictable Maj. Arctic Minimal Moderate Maximum No Disaster Impact Impact Shipping Impact No impact Disasters Windows Limited Moderate No Limit of Operation Drive Partial Maritime Refusal ImproveInsurance ments Industry Coopera- Collabora- No Market Asian tion Entry Players tion

Legal Framework Global Trade Dynamics Climate

Arctic Treaty System Low Growth

Tense Relationships Moderate High Growth Growth

Status Quo

Armed Conflict

Industrial Collapse Explosion of Global Economy New Ice Free - Seasonal Seasonal New Ice Ice Cretate- Severe Ice Age ous Period Weather Shippable Dangerous Increasing Stable InStable Safety of Pressure crease of Demand Other Traffic Routes Soc.-Econ. Worldwide Regional Gain & Impact of Loss & Loss & CooperaClimate Conflict Conflict tion Steady Cheap Oil Prices UnpreStable dictable Rise, PreOil Oscillation dictable Maj. Arctic Minimal Moderate Maximum No Disaster Impact Impact Shipping Impact No impact Disasters Windows Limited Moderate No Limit of Operation Drive Partial Maritime Refusal ImproveInsurance ments Industry Coopera- Collabora- No Market Asian tion Entry Players tion

Economic. Robbery Viable Knights Fees Indig. vs. Wealth - Wealth - No Inter- InterCommerc. Low Inter- trad. life- ference - ference Conflict ference style loss No Profit Conflict Multilat. Multilat. Unilateral Conflicts Arctic Arctic Territorial Between Privateers Enforcers Military Police Force Force Protection Enforcers Propulsion Nuclear SkySails Hydrogen Fossil Based Fuels PropulEnergy Propulsn. sion Weak DeNew Arctic Resource Gold Rush mand/Restrictions Discovery Moderate Strong Little World Change Change Change Trade Patterns Regulation Do As You Moderate EU of the Wish Regulation North in the Arctic Thermo- Wild Card No haline Circ. Wild Card Weakens Hot Wild Card No Cold War Wild Card

Economic. Robbery Viable Knights Fees Indig. vs. Wealth - Wealth - No Inter- InterCommerc. Low Inter- trad. life- ference - ference Conflict ference style loss No Profit Conflict Multilat. Multilat. Unilateral Conflicts Arctic Arctic Territorial Between Privateers Enforcers Military Police Force Force Protection Enforcers Propulsion Nuclear SkySails Hydrogen Fossil Based Fuels PropulEnergy Propulsn. sion Weak DeNew Arctic Resource Gold Rush mand/Restrictions Discovery Moderate Strong Little World Change Change Change Trade Patterns Regulation Do As You Moderate EU of the Wish Regulation North in the Arctic Thermo- Wild Card No haline Circ. Wild Card Weakens Hot Wild Card No Cold War Wild Card

Figure 6.7.2. Robust development in the Arctic raw scenarios. Red: overall most robust bundle without wild card; green: high robustness, consistency, and plausibility; magenta dashed: overall most robust with wild card; yellow dashed: robust and plausible.

Figure 6.7.3. Consistent business. The raw scenario not containing a wild card with the highest consistency value.

Transit Fees

Transit Fees

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and socioeconomic change. Development projects are often delayed by disputes over rights of use and environmental impact assessments. Controversial projects are at times opposed with physical force. Further, the continued uncertainty of the oil price has driven moderate development of alternative energy sources. These energy sources are mainly used to supplement fossil fuels. Variations of this scenario (Fig. 6.7.2) are global conflicts due to a changing climate, high impacts of disasters, and the sole use of fossil fuels for propulsion. Wild cards: Only the wild card “Hot Cold War” is consistent with this scenario. Further, it appears robust under the influence of the wild card, provided that the cold-war-type conflict sets in before 2030.

Scenario 2: Consistent Business The raw scenario shown in Figure 6.7.3 is the one found to have the highest average consistency value. It stems from a run of the algorithm with the wild card feature implemented. The algorithm was instructed to search for the raw scenario with the highest consistency value. Note, however, that this raw scenario has a low robustness value and a low plausibility value. The scenario: The cooperative global effort to transition to a hydrogen-based energy system has sparked a new industrial explosion. In the wake of this multilateral success, agreements about the political status of the Arctic are made. The littoral states of the Arctic and other global players cooperate closely in the economic development of the region. A strong international police and disaster response force minimizes the impact of this development on the arctic environment. Since oil is no longer used as fuel but only for value-added products, its price becomes less volatile. Nonetheless, oil prices are steadily increasing as known reserves dwindle. This trend and the search for other resources drive economic development in the Arctic. Further, due to the massive growth of the global economy, shipping through the southern sea routes has reached maximum capacity. And the changing climate, exceeding all model predictions, opens the Arctic’s sea routes for year-round service to the Northern Hemisphere. The indigenous people of the Arctic partake in the economic development at the cost of their traditional lifestyle. Wild cards: This scenario is very volatile. Under the influence of either wild card, it would most likely collapse. The breakdown of the thermohaline circulation and an essentially ice-free Arctic are inconsistent, and a war in the Arctic and the forging of a strong cooperative alliance to manage the region are inconsistent as well.

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Scenario 3: Plausible Futures The raw scenarios shown in Figure 6.7.4 were derived from a search for the most plausible future projection bundles. While the raw scenarios have a high plausibility value, their robustness value is only medium. Their consistency is low, with all of them having two partial inconsistencies. Note that the plausibility value of the raw scenario carrying the wild card (yellow in Figure 6.7.4) is two orders of magnitude less than that of the other three. The main raw scenario selected here (shown in red in Figure 6.7.4) has been chosen because it differs most strongly from the scenario “Robust Development.” The scenario: The warming trend in the Arctic has slowed down. Weather and ice conditions make navigating the Arctic waters dangerous. Work on permanent structures is limited to a short summer season. The uncertainty of varying ice conditions is mirrored by the political situation and the volatility of the main resources extracted from the region. Disputes over boundary lines in the Arctic flare up infrequently and developers have to deal with the different regulations and interpretations of international treaties of the littoral states. Nonetheless, as fossil fuels are still the main source of energy, arctic resources are being developed. These efforts are supported by non-littoral states where profitable. The development interferes strongly with the indigenous people of the North, who are trying to hold on to their traditional way of life in a changing environment. Their hunting territory is diminished by oil and gas development during times of regional conflict in the vicinity of major sea routes that expand into the Arctic. Even though transit fees in the region are low, shipping is economically viable only if oil prices spike or alternative routes become temporarily unavailable. Variations: A slightly more moderate climate could increase the development activity in the region. Excessive transit fees could reduce the economic viability of shipping routes in the North even further. Wild cards: Only the wild card “Hot Cold War” is consistent with this scenario. Further, it appears robust under the influence of the wild card. Such a conflict might even spark the development of a new generation of nuclear propelled vessels. Note that this is possible only should this wild card take place in years prior to 2030.

Scenario 4: Bleak Outlook This scenario was selected to provide a counterpoint to the scenario “Consistent Business.” It shows that even if the climate evolves favorably for economic

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Legal Framework Global Trade Dynamics Climate

Arctic Treaty System Low Growth

Tense Relationships Moderate High Growth Growth

Status Quo

Armed Conflict

Industrial Collapse Explosion of Global Economy New Ice Free - Seasonal Seasonal New Ice Ice Cretate- Severe Ice Age ous Period Weather Shippable Dangerous Increasing Stable InStable Safety of Pressure crease of Demand Other Traffic Routes Soc.-Econ. Worldwide Regional Gain & Impact of Loss & Loss & CooperaClimate Conflict Conflict tion Steady Cheap Oil Prices UnpreStable dictable Rise, PreOil Oscillation dictable Maj. Arctic Minimal Moderate Maximum No Disaster Impact Impact Shipping Impact No impact Disasters Windows Limited Moderate No Limit of Operation Drive Partial Maritime Refusal ImproveInsurance ments Industry Coopera- Collabora- No Market Asian tion Entry Players tion

Legal Framework Global Trade Dynamics Climate

Arctic Treaty System Low Growth

Tense Relationships Moderate High Growth Growth

Status Quo

Armed Conflict

Industrial Collapse Explosion of Global Economy New Ice Free - Seasonal Seasonal New Ice Ice Cretate- Severe Ice Age ous Period Weather Shippable Dangerous Safety of Increasing Stable In- Stable Pressure crease of Demand Other Traffic Routes Soc.-Econ. Worldwide Regional Gain & Impact of Loss & Loss & CooperaClimate Conflict Conflict tion Steady Cheap Oil Prices UnpreStable dictable Rise, PreOil Oscillation dictable Maj. Arctic Minimal Moderate Maximum No Disaster Impact Impact Shipping Impact No impact Disasters Windows Limited Moderate No Limit of Operation Drive Partial Maritime Refusal ImproveInsurance ments Industry Coopera- Collabora- No Market Asian tion Entry Players tion Economic. Robbery Viable Knights Fees Indig. vs. Wealth - Wealth - No Inter- InterCommerc. Low Inter- trad. life- ference - ference Conflict ference style loss No Profit Conflict Multilat. Multilat. Unilateral Conflicts Arctic Arctic Territorial Between Privateers Enforcers Military Police Force Force Protection Enforcers Propulsion Nuclear SkySails Hydrogen Fossil Based Fuels PropulEnergy Propulsn. sion Weak DeNew Arctic Resource Gold Rush mand/Restrictions Discovery Moderate Strong Little World Change Change Change Trade Patterns Do As You Moderate EU of the Regulation Wish Regulation North in the Arctic Thermo- Wild Card No haline Circ. Wild Card Weakens Hot Wild Card No Cold War Wild Card

Transit Fees

Economic. Robbery Viable Knights Fees Indig. vs. Wealth - Wealth - No Inter- InterCommerc. Low Inter- trad. life- ference - ference Conflict ference style loss No Profit Conflict Multilat. Multilat. Unilateral Conflicts Arctic Arctic Territorial Between Privateers Enforcers Military Police Force Force Protection Enforcers Propulsion Nuclear SkySails Hydrogen Fossil Based Fuels PropulEnergy Propulsn. sion Weak DeNew Arctic Resource Gold Rush mand/Restrictions Discovery Moderate Strong Little World Change Change Change Trade Patterns Regulation Do As You Moderate EU of the Wish Regulation North in the Arctic Thermo- Wild Card No haline Circ. Wild Card Weakens Hot Wild Card No Cold War Wild Card

Transit Fees

Figure 6.7.4. Plausible futures. Red: raw scenario used. Other colors: supporting scenarios.

Figure 6.7.5. Bleak outlook. Green: no wild card; Red: wild card.

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development, the political climate does not necessarily follow suit. Incidentally, this raw scenario has a plausibility two orders of magnitude higher than the most consistent one, while having low to moderate robustness and average consistency values and one partial inconsistency. The scenario:

The extremely mild climate in the Arctic has driven massive development efforts in the early 2020s. However, territorial issues were never settled prior to exploration. Once it had become clear just how rich the Arctic basin is in natural resources, the territorial disputes became more and more heated. Short outbursts of aggression and the increased armament of the region led to a stalemate between different littoral states, effectively shutting down any autonomous economic operation in the Arctic. Furthermore, the development interferes strongly with indigenous peoples’ way of life, due to pollution from military operations, weapons tests, and access restrictions. The smoldering conflict draws large amounts of economic resources, which slows down economic growth and does not allow for progress in developing alternative sources of energy and reduction of energy consumption. With a weak global economy left at the whim of an ever-oscillating oil price, worldwide regional conflicts that accompany massive climate change are amplified. Impoverished coastal nations turn a blind eye on piracy, putting the shipping industry under extreme pressure. Insurance companies are no longer inclined to issue policies for maritime operations. Wild cards: This scenario is consistent, and amplified, by the wild card “Hot Cold War.” But it is completely inconsistent with “Breakdown of the Thermohaline Circulation” because of its expression of the key factor “Climate.”

Conclusion Our findings using an explorative scenario technique are comparable to those coming out of the AMSA process (Arctic Council 2009; Brigham 2007). Hence the more detailed analysis of this study further validates these scenarios within the given set of factors and forces. At the same time, we were able to refine the AMSA scenarios somewhat. Specifically, AMSA focused on the state of the global economy and the arctic governance regime as by far the most important drivers. All four AMSA scenarios consisted of permutations of a strong/weak global economy and strong/weak governance system in the Arctic, descriptively termed Arctic Race, Polar Lows, Polar Preserve, and Arctic Saga. A closer look at the results of our consistency analysis reveals that, whereas AMSA is driven by the global picture (global climate change, global economy), regional processes do play an important role in the Arctic of the future.

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Thus with regards to the role of the economy, it is striking that all of the most robust, plausible, and consistent scenarios presume an “Arctic gold rush” (Figs. 6.7.2–6.7.5), that is, a continued upward trend of resource exploitation in the Arctic that dominates the regional economy of the Arctic and is of global importance. Consistent with this finding, none of the robust, plausible, and consistent scenarios include “cheap oil” among their future projections. One conclusion to draw from this picture is that much of the discussion and the discourse (even in experts’ panels such as assembled by AMSA) implicitly assumes that arctic resource extraction will continue to grow in importance and that the oil price will be high enough at least part of the time to justify petroleum exploration and development activities. The picture may look different if these two future projections prove to be unrealistic, and tracking arctic resource development and oil price development may provide valuable insight into plausible arctic futures. The other finding relates to the role of indigenous organizations and governments, a factor that in the context of the final AMSA evaluation was subsumed into the broad category of arctic governance. It is noteworthy that only one out of the four scenarios indicates little or no conflict between traditional lifestyles and development. On the one hand, this suggests an important role for governance regimes and enforcement to prevent and mitigate conflict. On the other hand, most scenarios tend to assign the indigenous populations a mostly passive role, which may be unrealistic with increasing autonomy both today and in the future. Working on and with scenarios, it is important to keep in mind that they are nothing but a crutch in planning for an inherently uncertain future. The key is to understand that they are the next-best option in situations where a forecast, namely, a reliable prognosis of future developments, is not feasible. However, as any scenario process heavily relies on, at best, ambiguous and, at worst, heavily biased human input, they can only serve as auxiliary planning tools. In such a planning process, one would not only pick a favorite scenario and plan for it, but one should have plans flexible enough to adapt to developments in line with the other scenarios as well. Nevertheless, a further, important aspect of scenarios is that they can be used as a tool for shaping the future. That is, stakeholders can identify key factors of importance or value to them, which they can influence in their favor. In this respect, our study supports the notion that the development of the earth’s climate and as the legal climate in the Arctic are the most important key factors for the marine shipping industry and other stakeholders. However, our scenarios lead us to expect that as long as the oil price remains intermittently high, economic development in the region will take place regardless of the legal climate. It is likely, yet uncertain, that ice conditions in the Arctic will become more favorable (e.g., IPCC 2007), from a transportation and shipping point of view. However, direct influence on this key factor is not likely. Nonetheless, indirect

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influence is possible through the key factor “Energy Sources for Propulsion,” which includes technological advances that allow economically viable navigation in less favorable ice conditions. Technological solutions might allow the extended use of the arctic region even if current efforts to mitigate and reverse climate change should be successful. The status quo of the legal climate is full of potential for conflict (CIA 2007) and thus uncertainty. Here direct influence through political processes in all littoral states is possible. Identification of like-minded stakeholders to pursue the goal of a more certain legal climate jointly appears to be a promising path forward. We consider the above scenarios as a starting point for an open discussion between all stakeholders and as a basis for regional and local sub-scenarios. Hence, the scenarios and all supporting data are available and open for comments and suggestions online at http://seaice.scenlab.com. The robustness analysis is one of many scenario-building methods. One shortcoming of it is that there is no inherent possibility of “if-then” implementation, that is, the type of situation where the occurrence of a certain future projection of key factor A forces a specific projection of key factor B. This problem can be alleviated by using a cross impact analysis (e.g., Godet 1975).

References Arctic Council. 2009. Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 report. Arctic Council. Retrieved from http://arcticportal.org/en/pame/amsa-2009-report. Brigham, L. 2007. Thinking about the Arctic’s future: Scenarios for 2040. The Futurist, September–October, 27–34. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). 2007. The world factbook. Retrieved from https:// www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/. Godet, M. 1975. Smic: A new cross impact method. Futures, August 1975. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). 2007. Climate change 2007: The physical science basis, summary for policymakers. Technical report. Michalewicz, Z. 1996. Genetic algorithm + data structures = evolution programs. Third ed. New York: Springer-Verlag. Mueller-Stoffels, M., E. Gauger, and K. Steinmüller. 2009. Explorative scenarios using consistency and robustness analysis and wild cards. Conference Proceedings for Lessons from Continuity and Change in the Fourth International Polar Year, March 4–9, 2009, University of Alaska Fairbanks. Steinmüller, A., and K. Steinmüller. 2004. Wild cards. Wenn das Unwahrscheinliche eintritt (Wild Cards: When the Improbable Happens), 2nd ed. Hamburg, Germany: Murmann Verlag.

As highlighted by the last several sections, a more open arctic means there will be an increasing need to balance competing interests of conservation and exploitation as human activities expand northward. On the one hand, the people whose livelihoods depend

on living marine resources fear the contamination of these resources and crowding of the seascape. On the other hand, an increase in industrial development means more jobs, greater wealth, and the potential for socioeconomic diversification in remote locations. While nearly everyone agrees on the need for a sustainable future for the Arctic, there is considerable disagreement about the correct mix of rules, practices, and values to ensure sustainability. In some ways Section 7, focused on the exploitation of hydrocarbons beneath the seabed, may seem to be a different set of concerns from those in Section 2 or Section 3. However, as several chapters in Section 7 point out, they are inherently intertwined. Coastal and offshore activities are tied to the land through the ice roads in northern Alaska that serve as vital overland shipping routes to sustain oil and gas production on the North Slope. The creation of these roads is dependent on seasonal availability of fresh water. As Section 3 explained, Alaska’s hydrologic cycle is changing, meaning that multimillion-dollar projects dependent on these roads must account for even greater risks tied to unpredictability. Petroleum development also proceeds in a regulatory framework that must consider institutions related to species protection, pollution, and safety such as those noted in Sections 5 and 6. One common keyword across all groups operating or living in the Far North is risk. If we think of the concept as referring to the exposure to a hazard or dangerous situation, then Arctic coasts and waters are inherently risky places to be. But, activities familiar to people who have adapted to living in these locations, for example, going a distance from the coast in a small boat to hunt a marine mammal 50 feet in length and weighing 60 tons, may not be perceived as the same kind of risk as expanded petroleum drilling activities off that same coast. The concept of risk is one that may hold key lessons about creating a common vision of a sustainable future for competing interests. All stakeholders and their activities in the northern coastal and offshore environments are facing the shared problem of variability in climate, weather, and ecosystem patterns that makes predictions uncertain. However, the primary obstacle that underlies many of the relationships between different interests in the North is divergent concepts of how to define, manage, and live with risk. For example, as illustrated in Section 6, the Coast Guard typically steps in at a point where risk has increased to a degree that life and the environment are under immediate threat as the result of an accident or gross negligence. But mariners plying the great circle routes between Asia and North America may be perfectly willing to take risks that are unacceptable to those whose livelihood is tied to the ocean in locations such as Alaska’s Aleutian Islands. There the threat of ships running aground and spilling fuel and other hazardous materials is a real threat to their food security, if not their lives. Another factor in assessing risk is the degree to which those subject to risk have control over their fate. Thus indigenous hunters through their knowledge of local conditions may be able to

negotiate environmental risks while out on the sea ice that would not be acceptable from a regulatory perspective in the context of safe operations by industry on that same ice. Paradoxically (and as explored in Chapter 7.4), industry may often rely on the expert judgment of such local knowledge-holders in assessing risk to their personnel and equipment. Section 7 raises a number of difficult questions that require open communication among experts in public and private sectors and across stakeholders. An ongoing dialogue of common and divergent values must take place with a conscious engagement of different ways to think about the world. The question is: Can such a process take place in time to create sustainable futures for diverse stakeholders?

7

Coastal and Offshore Oil and Gas Development: Balancing Interests and Reducing Risks Through Collaboration and Information Exchange

Section editors: Sharman Haley and Hajo Eicken

PLATE 007 Snow/Sand Daniel DeRoux Oil paint 36” x 18” 2007

7.1

Introduction by sharman haley and hajo eicken

Scenarios for 2020: Defining the Problem1

T

he rapidity and extent of recent arctic environmental and socioeconomic change has thrown open a door to a wide range of plausible, yet highly divergent, scenarios for the future North. Two chapters in this book (Chapter 6.7 by Mueller-Stoffels and Eicken and Chapter 7.2 by Thurston) present a detailed picture of how northern communities and the role of the Arctic may change in coming decades. Here we wish to stress that further climate change in conjunction with increased resource extraction and maritime traffic is a defining element of many of the most plausible scenarios under discussion (Arctic Council 2009; Brigham 2007; Chapter 6.7, this volume). Estimates place roughly a quarter of undiscovered global oil and gas resources north of the Arctic Circle, with the most substantial oil deposits concentrated in the Chukchi-Beaufort-East Siberian offshore province (Gautier et al. 2009). At the same time, it appears that exploration and development currently under way on the Canadian and US Beaufort shelf, the Barents and Kara Seas, and potentially the Chukchi Sea will lead to some level of offshore oil and gas production driven both by global demand and technological advances (Chapters 7.3 and 7.4, this volume). The latter are likely to increasingly buffer industrial activity, currently favored by mild summer and fall ice conditions, against the substantial swings and interannual variability in environmental conditions that are characteristic of the arctic climate regardless of any warming trend. Independent of the extraction of marine resources, onshore development is poised to increase as well, resulting in more shipping activity (Arctic Council 2009). The implications of such socioeconomic change and industrial development are substantial and difficult to gauge, especially for people of the Arctic. Several chapters in this book discuss these issues in depth (Chapters 4.3–4.8; Chapter 7.6). 495

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There are compelling links between this issue and the other parts of this book: the dependence of coastal oil and gas development on freshwater resources, its potential impact on people and marine ecosystems, its potential role as a major source of revenue for northern communities, and the possible vulnerability of coastal installations to negative impacts of climate variability and change are issues that cut across Alaska’s social-ecological systems. While the path toward the future is far from clear at this time, in comparing the world of arctic offshore oil and gas of thirty years ago to that of today, it is obvious that the context for development has been redefined from being largely an engineering problem that had to contend with extreme environmental conditions to a suite of intertwined issues that touch on all facets of northern life.

North by 2020: Offshore Oil and Gas Theme Activities North by 2020 is a forum to explore, discuss, and plan for sustainable development in a North experiencing rapid transformation. Offshore oil and gas is one of the six theme groups. Its activities included graduate education and public outreach initiatives, a lecture circuit by visiting scholar Anatoly Zolotukhin (Chapter 7.3), international exchanges, research projects and case studies, and contributions to a data archive project. The offshore oil and gas group hosted a workshop in Barrow and took part in the cross-theme synthesis activities at the INRA-IPY conference in March 2009, leading up to this book. While each of these activities contributed to our emerging ideas and collaborative relations, the Barrow workshop, “Reducing Environmental Risk and Impacts in Arctic Coastal and Offshore Oil and Gas Exploration” (November 2008), was perhaps the most important catalyst. The workshop addressed key questions on how technological advances, local knowledge, science, and adaptive management can together minimize the environmental risks and impacts of offshore oil and gas development, particularly in the exploration phase. Roughly ninety participants from the United States, Canada, and Norway represented the North Slope, industry, government, and academia. They provided expertise in Iñupiaq environmental knowledge, arctic technology, spill response, management regimes, stakeholder involvement, and natural and social sciences. Over two and a half days, workshop participants exchanged information and addressed challenging questions in an open classroom-style setting. Sessions on reducing discharges, spill response, and reducing noise featured presentations on local concerns, state-of-the-art technologies, and integrating science and local knowledge, followed by constructive discussion of key questions and concerns. On the final day, work in smaller groups brought out shared values and helped identify the next steps in research and information exchange. The lead role

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of the university in the workshop fostered a “classroom” environment for constructive dialogue, learning, and exchange. The workshop also helped explore and bring into focus the potential role of the university as honest broker to help the different stakeholders build decisions based on appropriate data and information. The chapters in this section are based on exchanges and communications between the different stakeholder groups. The North by 2020 workshop in particular affirmed a common set of values by the experts at the meeting, an important prerequisite for making progress that is not often recognized. That they brought their own code of ethics and professional or expert accountability to the table adds significance to this. The workshop discussion was a primary source for Chapter 7.5 by Eicken, Ritchie, and Barlau. In addition to the exchange of information and dialogue at the workshop itself, the intensive collaborative work of the program committee members forged intellectual and social capital that continues to bear fruit. Allan Reece was a contributing member of that program committee as well as a speaker at the workshop, and this was prelude to his contribution to this book (Chapter 7.4). Chapter 7.6 authors were also involved: Richard Glenn worked on the program committee and spoke at the workshop, as did Mayor Edward Itta. Work on the program committee also inspired Sharman Haley, lead author of Chapter 6.6 in the Marine Infrastructure and Transportation section, to launch the “Strengthening Institutions” project addressing institutional approaches to reducing conflict o