Part 1 of a 4 part series (Author's note: In 2006,
the Federal Subsistence Board and the Southcentral subsistence advisory
council took action toward establishing subsistence fisheries on the popular
Kenai and Kasilof rivers, where salmon already are fully allocated to other
user groups. Because major changes are in the offing, I'll be revisiting
this conflict-ridden subject in a series of columns. The one below, edited
for timeliness, first appeared in the Clarion in 1998. The remainder of the
series will address how federal subsistence fishing might impact fishing as
we know it today. LP)
(Editor's note: This was originally published in the
Peninsula Clarion in four installments starting December 29, 2006)
It started out as what seemed to many Alaskans as a
fine goal.
The thinking went something like this: Sometimes, fish
and wildlife are not abundant enough to satisfy all demands. As Alaska's and
Earth's populations continue to grow, we'll no doubt see more and more of
these times. The people who live out where there is scant cash in the
economy have to live mainly on what they can catch and gather. They don't do
it for fun or sport; they depend on wild foods for their subsistence. When
their food supply becomes scarce, subsistence uses by people who live in
these remote areas deserve a priority over other uses.
Who could fault such a noble goal? In the late 1970s,
scarcely anyone realized how difficult it would be just to put such an idea
into law, let alone to write workable regulations and to monitor and enforce
them. And few of us imagined that it would eventually turn race against race
and neighbor against neighbor.
We failed to see that giving some people a priority
would mean depriving others who were at least as deserving. No one imagined
the bureaucratic nightmare that would ensue from mixing wildlife management
with a social experiment. We either forgot or purposely ignored history,
which is replete with one conflict after another over natural resources.
Our first try at putting the subsistence concept into
law was by the Alaska Legislature, in 1978. This would be the last time
legislators would address the issue with anything but extreme reluctance.
In 1980, President Carter signed into law the Alaska
National Interest Lands Conservation Act. Title VIII of ANILCA, which
contained the federal subsistence law, required that "rural" residents
receive a subsistence preference. Congress failed to define "rural," leaving
that up to others to decide. Back then, few of us had any idea that the
"others" would end up being federal lawyers and judges.
During the 1980s, "rural" was much argued about, in
court and out. People were slowly waking up to the fact that lines were
being drawn around their communities, lines that excluded them from
subsistence privileges. In 1982, those who felt left out by the law gathered
enough signatures to have a repeal initiative placed on the statewide
ballot. The initiative failed, but the bitter arguments leading up to a vote
cut wounds that fester still.
During the 1980s, the state administered subsistence
law on all of Alaska's lands, both state and federal, and all its waters.
Mostly forgotten today is that the state entered into subsistence like a cat
enters a shower.
Most biologists were repelled by the very idea of
subsistence. It ran counter to not only their training and experience, but
to their core beliefs. For several years, the boards of fisheries and game,
some members of which were retired biologists, shunned the "S" word. Local
fish and game advisory committees, many of which were dominated by
commercial fishermen, gave short shrift to all subsistence proposals. Except
for a handful of Natives, the public at board and committee meetings
discouraged positive discourse on subsistence proposals. Rifts between races
widened.
The reluctance of the state to make subsistence work in
Village Alaska would later return to haunt us.
On Dec. 22, 1989, the Alaska Supreme Court ruled in
McDowell v. State of Alaska that the state's subsistence law violated the
Alaska Constitution. The law, the judges said, excluded residents who didn't
live in rural areas.
The McDowell decision was at once a great victory and a
great loss. Yes, it validated equality, but at what price? Because the state
could no longer have a rural preference, its subsistence law no longer
complied with the federal law, ANILCA. The feds threatened to assume
management of subsistence on federal lands. The court decision imperiled the
state's ability to control its own destiny.
In 1992, with the state still out of step with ANILCA,
the feds did what they said they would do. To protect a rural priority, they
opened a subsistence management office in Anchorage and began managing the
wildlife end of subsistence on federal lands.
Today, most Alaskans remain blissfully ignorant of the
ramifications of the McDowell decision, which knocked the state's
subsistence law down, but not out. The court said the state couldn't
discriminate against people because of where they live. The feds, on the
other hand, can and do discriminate in this manner on federal lands, and a
fair amount of case law supports their legal right to do so. Today, because
of McDowell, the feds manage subsistence on federal lands and waters — about
two-thirds of the state — and the state manages what's left.
Meanwhile, the state's subsistence law remains in
force. Since 1989, all Alaska residents have qualified for subsistence
preference on state lands and waters.
The present situation of "dual management" poses
significant threats to vulnerable fish stocks and wildlife populations.
Because the subsistence preference has the potential of closing all other
uses except subsistence, it threatens sport, personal-use and commercial
fisheries, as well as hunting.
Worst of all, it makes a mockery of the whole idea of
subsistence, and erodes what dwindling support remains among those of us who
once thought it seemed like a fine and noble idea.
Les Palmer lives in Sterling, a federally designated
"non-rural" community. Part 2 -
What "Subsistence" Means |
