Evelyn Pete watches as her eldest son Louis, who missed benefits under ANCSA because he was one-sixteenth too low, swings her youngest son Matt Frankson, who missed benefits because he was born after December 18, 1971. (April 1984) BILL HESS. TUNDRA TIMES PHOTOGRAPH PROJECT, ACCESSION NUMBER TT.00377
by Ben Baldwin, Madelyn Christiansen, and Canyon Kokochuruk
Spring 2022, FORUM Magazine
THIS WINTER marked the 50th anniversary of the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, or ANCSA. This historic piece of legislation has grown to impact far more than just Alaska Native communities, becoming one of the state’s leading economic drivers. Though many challenges remain, ANCSA and Alaska have both come a long way over the past 50 years. Amid all the anniversary celebrations, retrospectives, and critiques, one aspect that has received less attention is how the younger generation has received it. These people will see ANCSA through the next 50 years.
As members of that generation, we know that many young people are disconnected from ANCSA, largely unaware of its history and how it affects our lives today. In response, we looked deeper into ANCSA as part of a student research project supported by APU and the Alaska Humanities Forum. Our research focused on historic photos published by the Alaska Native newspaper The Tundra Times, now archived by the Tuzzy Consortium Library at Iḷisaġvik College in Utqiaġvik, especially the work of Tundra Times reporter Bill Hess. His portraits and candid images record the positive changes as well as challenges that began to emerge after the passage of the act, such as uncertainty over how ANCSA’s initial benefits would be passed down to future generations. Between these firsthand images of ANCSA’s legacy unfolding and our interviews with other students today, we came away with a new perspective on ANCSA as a living document and better ideas of what we want it to look like in the future.
- Ben Baldwin
Participants at the Venetie hearings,
December 1984. BILL HESS. TUNDRA TIMES PHOTOGRAPH PROJECT, ACCESSION NUMBER TT.00387
I’m Canyon Kokochuruk. My mom’s family is from White Mountain, Alaska, and my dad’s family is from Hilo, Hawai’i. I didn’t get involved with my regional corporation until after high school when people told me to fill out scholarships. They were like, “Oh, you’re Native— just apply for the Native ones,” not realizing how those scholarships were really specific and regionally based. There are also tribal requirements that you have to go through, and I have different tribal affiliations, so the result was pretty challenging. At the time, what I knew of ANCSA was that Alaska was broken up into multiple parts, and the people were required to establish corporations. We get things from those corporations, and they help us in various ways, but that was the extent of my knowledge.
I think as scary as it is, and as much as we’ve been told to be quiet, advocacy and self-advocacy are where the change will come from. When I asked how some of my friends feel about ANCSA, which directly affects our people, I was surprised with many negative responses and anxiety about whether its promises have been kept. To those dissatisfied people, I would say that their feelings are valid. Their experiences are theirs, and I wouldn’t know that’s not what they’re going through. But I would also say that our communities’ challenges will not get easier to deal with. I think it’s valuable that critics bring those perspectives to the board of directors and Elders councils, letting people know, “Hey, I don’t feel supported as a Native person by the people that I’m supposed to; how can I get that support I need?”
If there is one thing that I could tell a board of directors of one of the corporations, based on what I’ve heard and seen from the people I reached out with, I would say that we need to be making sure that people aren’t getting left behind or falling through our system. It’s not that we’re not doing a good job; it’s just that some people are left out. For example, I think a lot of contention comes from people who weren’t here when ANCSA was signed or descendants who don’t get what shareholders get. How do we move forward and heal some of these divides? I think just making sure everyone feels like they’ve got someone that’s got their back, someone’s looking out for them.
Just as we’re diverse people, we have diverse opinions, and that’s valuable. It’s an integral part of our people’s history. I had so much to learn, and I still have so much to learn, and this has shown me how complex our history is. With a better idea and understanding of what people had to go through to make ANCSA a reality, we could respect and understand where our Elders are coming from and what they did for us to be here today. And I hope people who aren’t Native can appreciate how hard we’ve worked to be acknowledged and ask for respect instead of revenge. I think that’s powerful, and it’s something that not many people recognize.
- Canyon Kokochuruk
A meeting about ANCSA in Minto. Roscoe Bill and Joe Lawler are among those present” Circa 1965–1980. UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER, TUNDRA TIMES PHOTOGRAPH PROJECT, ACCESSION NUMBER 00547
Howard Rock (left) looks on while Harry Carter, executive director of the Alaska Federation of Natives, talks about the tasks and challenges after
the passage of ANCSA. JIMMY BEDFORD. TUNDRA TIMES PHOTOGRAPH PROJECT, ACCESSION NUMBER 00891
Eben Hopson (L) and Joe Upicksoun (R) testifying before a panel conducting hearings on land claims in Barrow.” Circa 1965-72. UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. TUNDRA TIMES PHOTOGRAPH PROJECT, ACCESSION NUMBER TT.00913
I am Maddie Christiansen. I’m from Old Harbor, Alaska. My parents are CJ and Angie Christiansen, and my grandparents are Darlene and Carl Christiansen. I would like to thank my regional corporation for funding some of the guiding experiences I have had in my life. Growing up, I participated in Alutiiq dance, and in high school, I learned how to speak Alutiiq. I went to cultural camps, which helped me connect to my culture and other Native youth in the area, significantly impacting my life and how I interact with the world. Although I wasn’t always aware of the link between those opportunities and my corporation—now I appreciate that I was taught to be proud of being Sugpiaq/Alutiiq from a young age. I am reminded of the difference in support and encouragement between my experiences and my father’s and grandfather’s generations.
Looking deeper into the history of the Settlement Act, I liked going through all the historic pictures in the Tundra Times archive at Iḷisaġvik College. I especially felt drawn to the peoples’ faces. I try to keep close contact with my family members, but I feel disconnected from my culture because of where I’m currently living. While I feel a deep connection to my culture in Kodiak and Old Harbor, I only feel it when I am there. It is something I am trying to work through.
All the ANCSA pictures brought joy into my heart because they reminded me of the gatherings in my village. It is inspiring to see the faces of the people who impacted my life and many other Alaska Natives’ lives by asserting their land claims. I admire the bravery that they demonstrated.
As I continue to reflect on ANCSA, I believe some changes could be made to represent better who we are today. I think the regional corporations have fulfilled their economic development mission for shareholders. But I hope to see all regional corporations invest more in their village economies in the future. I’d also like to see corporations invest more in shareholders’ mental health and cultural well-being. Mental health services are not adequate in villages, and we need to do a lot of healing together. Historical trauma in Alaska Natives is not being addressed or talked about appropriately on a community basis. Finding a way to address the trauma as a community is what I would ask for the corporations to focus on for the next 50 years.
- Maddie Christiansen ■
The authors were undergraduate students at Alaska Pacific University at the time of writing.
The Alaska Humanities Forum is a non-profit, non-partisan organization that designs and facilitates experiences to bridge distance and difference – programming that shares and preserves the stories of people and places across our vast state, and explores what it means to be Alaskan.
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