As per yesterdayâs posts about the seal hunt, plantyhamchuk asked me to provide some more information about the cultural and material history of Inuit people in Canada, in relation to sustainable hunting and historical game populations. I canât really do that, because the dynamics involved are much more complex, and involve dozens of nations and cultures in Canadaâs North.
As a third-generation Canadian and as a person who has studied anthropology, I am perhaps more familiar with this topic than most, but my first suggestion is always to read things by, and respectfully talk to people from the culture in question if you want to know about it.
When talking about indigenous people in Canadaâs North, itâs important to realise that there is not a homogenous group of people to talk about: broadly-speaking, there are eight regionally-identified cultural groups of Inuit (âthe peopleâ), and within those groups, there are a number of distinct languages, cultural histories, and ways of interacting with the land. These groups are more or less descended from the Thule culture, which replaced the Dorset culture.
Further, itâs also not just Inuit people who live up North. In talking about the seal hunt, this also involves people from a number of other nations who have historically and currently hunted along the Northern coasts, like the Innu, certain Algonquin groups, Maliseet, DenĂŠ, and MĂŠtis people (and many more). If you look at a map of Indigenous nations in Canada, you will see a patchwork of hundreds of distinct nations, who are all nonetheless referred to as First Nations, MĂŠtis, or Inuit.
Seal hunting is a circumpolar activity, having been practiced here in Scandinavia (where I live now, and where my ancestors are from), and also in Siberia.
In Newfoundland, where the âcommercialâ seal hunt takes place (the one most people think about when they hear about âCanadians clubbing baby sealsâ), it is mostly practiced by rural-dwelling Newfoundlanders and Labradorians, who face incredible economic challenges of unemployment, and are among the most likely people to migrate to other parts of Canada to work in oil and gas (I grew up in Alberta, and saw a mass-migration of Newfoundlanders and Labradorians finding work in the oil sands). Many of these people can trace their familial involvement in the hunt back for 400 or more years. The seal hunt directly employs over 6000 people who otherwise could not find work in remote coastal areas.Â
Itâs nigh on impossible to give a concise history of how these populations have hunted, over-hunted, migrated and interacted, given that it is a huge geographical area and the people living there each have distinct cultures and histories; these cultures have also not remained static or separate: there has been a huge amount of interaction â both conflict and cooperation â between these peoples. There are literally volumes of histories to read on Northern hunting, and Iâll cop to only having read a few books and articles on the topic during my time in University.
A number of Canadian animal rights groups who have historically opposed the seal hunt have in recent years recanted their views as being neocolonial (Humane Society of Canada; Greenpeace Canada), clarifying that the support indigenous hunting, but not the commercial seal hunt: this stance doesnât make a lot of sense, considering the amount of intercultural involvement in both subsistence and commercial seal hunting, it is impossible to extricate one from the other.
The EU ban on seal products is also viewed as discriminatory towards indigenous peoples.
What people call a âclub,â and think is especially brutal about the seal hunt, is actually a Norwegian tool called a hakapik. Itâs mostly used by commercial seal hunters because it does not damage the pelt, and when used by a skilled hunter, kills the animal instantly with blunt force trauma. This method has been studied extensively by veterinary scientists, and is regarded as humane.
In contrast, indigenous hunters often use a harpoon or a gun, which is also more or less humane, depending on the skill of the hunter.
Personally I think people are more shocked by the hunt than they are by other kinds of animal slaughter because they think seals are cute, and the blood looks very stark on an all-white backdrop of snow. It makes it look more brutal.
So does a polar bear kill, for that matter.
Seal meat, fat, and skin are all extremely valuable resources: the meat is high in calories, the fat provides fuel (vital when living above the treeline), and the skin is extremely insulating and waterproof â better than any synthetic material.
I reference this article all the time when talking about hunting, but it provides a good framework for beginning to understand the ritual or existential elements of what many indigenous and non-indigenous people regard as human-animal reciprocity:Â
âThe gift in the animal: The ontology of hunting and humanâanimal sociality.â by Paul Nasdasy.
Basically, a number of hunting societies have a view of themselves as existing within the context of a complex life web, and make a point of honouring the animals that âgiveâ themselves over to provide nutrition for the hunter.
Though this runs contrary to how agricultural societies think of animal-human relationships, it is a perspective that deserves to be taken seriously. People who live above the tree line in particular have a right to interact with their environments in culturally-congruent and sustainable ways. Cultural imperialism from Southerners has wreaked havoc on a number of these societies, bringing disease, residential schools, cultural disruption, increased suicide rates, resource depletion, and famine (statistics on all of these points are freely available online).
In short, this is why I support the seal hunt. If you want to learn more about it, and Northern hunters in particular, learn about it on a nation-by-nation or group-by-group basis. Itâs the best way to understand that PETA isnât painting an accurate picture of what is happening.
