On the stepe of the Chugach Mountains north of Anchorage.

I’m still trying to figure out Alaska.  When i was here in 2002 I was up in Fairbanks, working largely with non-Native people doing peacemaking work in the school system.  Fairbanks struck me as an interesting place, one in which you defintely had to have a deep intention to live in.  I enjoyed the people and the land – which is incredible – and I liked the feel of the town, which in all of its glory and ugliness, felt like northern towns everywhere.

Anchorage is a different beast.  There is very little beauty in it.  It’s a pretty utilitarian place, especially once you leave the small core of downtown, which is actually full of little treasures like restaurants Orso and Ginger.  Other than some ice sculptures and snow sculptures in a cool town square, it is mostly a city designed to huddle against the elements and get you from one place to another on four or more wheels.  What pieces of interesteing difference there are – the Namaste Shangri-la curry house for example, or Ray’s Vietnamese – lie hidden away in cold suburban plazas surrounded by divided roads, equipment dealerships and super stores.  There is community here for sure, and its a darn interesting one, but the physical look of the city leaves much to be desired.

But the land around here, the Chugak Mountains rising up behind us and the moose languidly traipsing across the frozen golf course in front of us, the majestic mud flats of Cook Inlet…all of that is very magical, very wild, very much a landscape that does not tolerate mindless interaction.  It is important not to make mistakes here or do things that are out of alignment with what the land wants.

That is an art of course, and that is what we are learning here nrunning an Art of Hosting with 25 emerging Native leaers from all over the state, from the Arctic north slope, to the remote west coast on the Bering Strait, to the storm battered Aluetian Islands in the south, the rainsforests and glaciers of the south east panhandle and the little towns and villages on the braided rivers and folded mountains of the interior.  The multiplicity of landscape here is reflected in the people, in the cultures that are in this room, in the questions that are among us and the gifts we are uncovering.

And I’m learning something about the state of Native life in Alaska too.  Since 1971 when the Alaska Native Claims Settlement was reached, people have lived not so much as citizens of a community or members of a nation of Tribe, but as shareholders of a corporation.  And as shareholders, the wealth of the land is reflected in the economic activity that is generated on that land.  This has resulted in a number of swirling dynamics including accelerated prosperity of some Native communities while at the same time, degradation of the land and subsistence lifestyles are changing, and traditional cultural values meet wealth and the easy money of corporate dividends, with the dividends winning out.  One of our participants is active in the middle of a massive project between local communities and the proponent of a gold/copper.molybdenum mine called the Pebble Prospect that would combine an open pit and a shaft system in the lake country above Bristol Bay, which is home to one of the most prolific and diverse wild salmon runs left on the planet.  People are largely lined up against the proposal which stands to affect the salmon and the water and land to the worse, and already jewlers from the UK, the USA and Europe are pledging not to use gold from that mine, but it is not so easy to be black and white when you are a local person whose communities could benefit for a long time from the wealth created from a mine like that.  Being shareholders of corporations brings people into a very different relationship with their land.  Better vs. worse, good vs. bad, becomes a slippery polarity.  Even when it seems obvious what to do.

I have long been suspicious of the benefits of easy and steady money schemes in Native communities like casinos and, here in Alaska, the corporate structure.  There is no denying that they provide money and resources to people who would otherwise be victims and marginal to the massive development taking place around them, but at what price?  When your citizenship becomes tied to a dividend paying share, what is the incentive to work for democratic participation?  In Alaska the power lies with structures that pay the people.  Even the state government does it, with benefits paid to Alaska citizens from the royalties from oil and gas and mineral development.  How does a government compete with a corporation when both take on the characteristics of each other?  What does it mean to be a citizen?  Who guards the culture?  Who guards the past and the connection to the land?  Does it even matter anymore?  To the young emerging leaders I am working with, and to their families and children, it matters a lot.

Big questions alive in this big country.  Taking my cue from Africa, where truth is not scarificed at the alter of a happy ending, I notice that finding the truth in all of this is that perhaps what Native people are trying to here is find the best bad ending to deal with, and as the long term evolves, sustain what is needed so that when it all goes away, there is still abundance left.