Canada's Yukon
Baker Lake, Canadian Northwest Territories
Pond Inlet, Baffin Island, Nuanvut, Canada - our "headquarters" in the Arctic
DOES CANADA NEGLECT ITS ARCTIC?
Rapid modernisation has many drawbacks as well as advantages
As our readers are aware, this newspaper serves, predominantly, the requirements of the Bangladeshi descended populations of the British Isles.
However, such is the onward course of events, this organ has through many struggles, trials, disappointments and successes achieved a fairly broad readership now, is compulsory reading in certain sections of the Bangladeshi civil service, gets read in many places in the Old and New Worlds and in both of the Earth’s polar regions. We have become, in fact, quite an international ‘paper.
Although we are aware of our small band of readers in the Far North our coverage has, of necessity, to cater pre-eminently to the interests of Bangladeshis in Britain. Occasionally, ever so tiny snippets of news from the Arctic and Antarctic make fleeting visits to our international pages, but that is all.
Just this once (and probably never again for ages) we are devoting a whole page to our young following in the educational systems of Baffin Island, Nunavut in Canada’s Arctic territories.
Why ever not? After all, we are at the end of the day Asians and share a common destiny with the other Asians and the Inuit trace their deepest roots to us and to our part of the world. One has only to look at photographs of them to perceive that they are of our stock and our lineage.
It has been said that “coloured immigration” to Europe began after the second world war and that is certainly the case in regard to mass immigration. But there have always been brown faces in and near Western Europe belonging to the Lapps and the Inuit who have inhabited northern Scandinavia and America’s Far North respectively for something in excess of a dozen millennia.
At this time all our readers in the Far North are in Canada’s Arctic territories.
It is my task at this time to examine the role of Canada in the Far North in the context of allegations that the Canadian government neglects its Arctic.
It is referred to as the Canadian North or (locally) as “the North”, a political definition for the region consists of Canada’s three territories: Yukon, the Northwest territories and Nunavut (which includes all the islands in Hudson’s Bay). An alternative definition based on physiogeography is that portion of the country north of the tree line, : covering most of Nunavut, and the northerly parts of the Northwest Territories, Yukon, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, and Labrador.
Similarly, the Far North (when contrasted to "the North") may refer to the Canadian Arctic: that slice of Canada north of the Arctic Circle.
All of these definitions depend on the concept of nordicity, a measure of northernness that other Arctic territories share. Canada, a country in northern North America whose population is concentrated along its frontier with the contiguous and dominant USA, is frequently reckoned to not have a “south”. As such, "the South" is only perceived as a region when it is contrasted to or viewed from those in "the North.”
At this time all our readers over there are in Nunavut.
The Far North of America was of strategic value during the Cold War on account of the perception that Soviet long range nuclear bombers and, latterly, nuclear tipped missiles would fly to their targets across the Arctic. Early detection was the order of the day and a string of early warning stations were established from Alaska to the United Kingdom.
Since then the threat from the former Soviet Union has receded and it is now well nigh impossible that the Russians or even the Chinese (who are still nominally communist) will attack the West militarily.
That leaves the economy of the region to be considered.
Unfortunately there is little to get excited about. In all three Canadian Arctic territories – Yukon, the Northwest and Nuavut – tourism is the biggest single source of income.
In other words, over there, the local economies are a bit like parts of the third world such as Thailand and various Caribbean islands which earn their livings primarily by being hospitable and exciting for short stay holiday makers, simple sightseers and adventurers. Bangladesh is not in that category and emphatically depends upon agriculture and industry and not tourism for its foreign exchange.
Nunavut's indigenous people call themselves Inuit, which means “the people” in their language Inuktitut. The Inuit have inhabited the Arctic for thousands of years with a lineage dating back to the Arctic-Small-Tool-Tradition people, who came from Asia over 5000 years ago; the Dorset, who invented the snow house; and the Thule, who migrated from the northern coast of Alaska about 1000 years ago. The remains of Thule villages (tent rings of large stones, semi-subterranean houses and whale bone-based structures) are found throughout Nunavut today.
When one speaks of traditional Inuit culture, they are really speaking of iliqqusiq or the Inuit way. Iliqqusiq encompasses all aspects of the Inuit way of life – survival skills, games, clothing, arts, medicine, the language, weather, the land, the sea, in other words, the way their people are brought up.
At the heart of iliqqusiq is the Inuit's intimate knowledge of, and respect for, the land and all that dwell on it. Theirs is a way of life where necessities are shared, elders are revered, family ties are strong and history is preserved through oral traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation.
People from technologically advanced lands come for their brief sojourns to experience iliqqusiq and sense the spirit of these unique and generous people. During the all too brief summer time, these intrepid travellers may take part in seasonal festivals, experience the sensation of feeling caribou-hide clothing against their skins, the hypnotic rhythm of the drum dance, and can listen to the ancient throat songs.
Even in the summer in the high arctic it is possible to let a hunter take one on a dogsled ride across a frozen fjord, watch an elder making a traditional drum and listen to dramatic (or possibly dramatised) stories of the hunt from young Inuit guides.
However, our Arctic readers share certain problems with our Bangladeshi majority in the form of having been brought up in a social climate which favours the “informal economy” more than is the case in the industrialised world.
By “formal economy” I mean the sort of activity which can be readily identified and taxed. Running a paper clip factory in which cost accountants and others can quantify all sorts of things for statistical and fiscal purposes is a clear example of a “formal economy” enterprise.
But what of the mother cooking supper for her husband, her children and herself? Or the hunter killing a seal and dragging it home for gutting? Or the boro farmer in Bangladesh cultivating his private plantation with a view to the never to be declared harvest?
The “informal economy” exemplified by the three examples above are anathema to the modern world which loves to express absolutely everything in terms of numerals which can be number-crunched by high-speed computers with their ever so clever programs, and all for the friendly taxman.
In both South Asia and the Arctic the education of the young is a critical issue.
The problem is that the modern world, which needs and requires more and more worker ants to turn the immense pecuniary mangle of its globalised and industrialised economy, insists on dictating the upbringing of the young.
When I was at university in the 1970s I watched a short film about the children of the Arctic in which the producers pointed out that the governments and other authority figures of the Far North had seen fit to make academic and technical education, as provided by trained conventional teachers, compulsory for all youngsters in the Arctic with the result that the finished products – the high school graduates – simply lacked the skills to follow the ways of their fathers. They all wanted hi-tech jobs and careers and scorned the traditional lifestyles.
How characteristic of our South Asian ways! The son of the small rice farmer with a secondary school education and a certificate in business studies from a college does not want to, and cannot if he did want to, till the land for his bread.
I have heard it said that one way out of poverty for Bangladesh is for the whole country to focus on the ship-breaking industry. When an ageing cargo or passenger vessel gets retired, they say, it makes it final voyage to the beaches of Bangladesh where the locals literally swarm over it and turn it into scrap metal for re-sale. That is already happening embryonically in Bangladesh.
In the case of the Arctic the prospect is for the whole region to become the venue for only two significant kinds of activity: scientific research (emphasising atmospheric investigations) and eco-tourism. In other words the Arctic youngster who wants to reside in the lands and oceans of his forefathers will have two major career choices: to become either a scientist or else a tourist guide.
I think that is sad, very sad.
On a brighter note, Mr Allan Smith of Rankin Inlet, Nunavut said to me: “It (government policy) has been neglected for a long time but things are getting better. There has been a change of government. There is a conservative government now.”
In an increasingly interconnected world, these matters are getting progressively more and more relevant for the bulk of our readership.
As our readers are aware, this newspaper serves, predominantly, the requirements of the Bangladeshi descended populations of the British Isles.
However, such is the onward course of events, this organ has through many struggles, trials, disappointments and successes achieved a fairly broad readership now, is compulsory reading in certain sections of the Bangladeshi civil service, gets read in many places in the Old and New Worlds and in both of the Earth’s polar regions. We have become, in fact, quite an international ‘paper.
Although we are aware of our small band of readers in the Far North our coverage has, of necessity, to cater pre-eminently to the interests of Bangladeshis in Britain. Occasionally, ever so tiny snippets of news from the Arctic and Antarctic make fleeting visits to our international pages, but that is all.
Just this once (and probably never again for ages) we are devoting a whole page to our young following in the educational systems of Baffin Island, Nunavut in Canada’s Arctic territories.
Why ever not? After all, we are at the end of the day Asians and share a common destiny with the other Asians and the Inuit trace their deepest roots to us and to our part of the world. One has only to look at photographs of them to perceive that they are of our stock and our lineage.
It has been said that “coloured immigration” to Europe began after the second world war and that is certainly the case in regard to mass immigration. But there have always been brown faces in and near Western Europe belonging to the Lapps and the Inuit who have inhabited northern Scandinavia and America’s Far North respectively for something in excess of a dozen millennia.
At this time all our readers in the Far North are in Canada’s Arctic territories.
It is my task at this time to examine the role of Canada in the Far North in the context of allegations that the Canadian government neglects its Arctic.
It is referred to as the Canadian North or (locally) as “the North”, a political definition for the region consists of Canada’s three territories: Yukon, the Northwest territories and Nunavut (which includes all the islands in Hudson’s Bay). An alternative definition based on physiogeography is that portion of the country north of the tree line, : covering most of Nunavut, and the northerly parts of the Northwest Territories, Yukon, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, and Labrador.
Similarly, the Far North (when contrasted to "the North") may refer to the Canadian Arctic: that slice of Canada north of the Arctic Circle.
All of these definitions depend on the concept of nordicity, a measure of northernness that other Arctic territories share. Canada, a country in northern North America whose population is concentrated along its frontier with the contiguous and dominant USA, is frequently reckoned to not have a “south”. As such, "the South" is only perceived as a region when it is contrasted to or viewed from those in "the North.”
At this time all our readers over there are in Nunavut.
The Far North of America was of strategic value during the Cold War on account of the perception that Soviet long range nuclear bombers and, latterly, nuclear tipped missiles would fly to their targets across the Arctic. Early detection was the order of the day and a string of early warning stations were established from Alaska to the United Kingdom.
Since then the threat from the former Soviet Union has receded and it is now well nigh impossible that the Russians or even the Chinese (who are still nominally communist) will attack the West militarily.
That leaves the economy of the region to be considered.
Unfortunately there is little to get excited about. In all three Canadian Arctic territories – Yukon, the Northwest and Nuavut – tourism is the biggest single source of income.
In other words, over there, the local economies are a bit like parts of the third world such as Thailand and various Caribbean islands which earn their livings primarily by being hospitable and exciting for short stay holiday makers, simple sightseers and adventurers. Bangladesh is not in that category and emphatically depends upon agriculture and industry and not tourism for its foreign exchange.
Nunavut's indigenous people call themselves Inuit, which means “the people” in their language Inuktitut. The Inuit have inhabited the Arctic for thousands of years with a lineage dating back to the Arctic-Small-Tool-Tradition people, who came from Asia over 5000 years ago; the Dorset, who invented the snow house; and the Thule, who migrated from the northern coast of Alaska about 1000 years ago. The remains of Thule villages (tent rings of large stones, semi-subterranean houses and whale bone-based structures) are found throughout Nunavut today.
When one speaks of traditional Inuit culture, they are really speaking of iliqqusiq or the Inuit way. Iliqqusiq encompasses all aspects of the Inuit way of life – survival skills, games, clothing, arts, medicine, the language, weather, the land, the sea, in other words, the way their people are brought up.
At the heart of iliqqusiq is the Inuit's intimate knowledge of, and respect for, the land and all that dwell on it. Theirs is a way of life where necessities are shared, elders are revered, family ties are strong and history is preserved through oral traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation.
People from technologically advanced lands come for their brief sojourns to experience iliqqusiq and sense the spirit of these unique and generous people. During the all too brief summer time, these intrepid travellers may take part in seasonal festivals, experience the sensation of feeling caribou-hide clothing against their skins, the hypnotic rhythm of the drum dance, and can listen to the ancient throat songs.
Even in the summer in the high arctic it is possible to let a hunter take one on a dogsled ride across a frozen fjord, watch an elder making a traditional drum and listen to dramatic (or possibly dramatised) stories of the hunt from young Inuit guides.
However, our Arctic readers share certain problems with our Bangladeshi majority in the form of having been brought up in a social climate which favours the “informal economy” more than is the case in the industrialised world.
By “formal economy” I mean the sort of activity which can be readily identified and taxed. Running a paper clip factory in which cost accountants and others can quantify all sorts of things for statistical and fiscal purposes is a clear example of a “formal economy” enterprise.
But what of the mother cooking supper for her husband, her children and herself? Or the hunter killing a seal and dragging it home for gutting? Or the boro farmer in Bangladesh cultivating his private plantation with a view to the never to be declared harvest?
The “informal economy” exemplified by the three examples above are anathema to the modern world which loves to express absolutely everything in terms of numerals which can be number-crunched by high-speed computers with their ever so clever programs, and all for the friendly taxman.
In both South Asia and the Arctic the education of the young is a critical issue.
The problem is that the modern world, which needs and requires more and more worker ants to turn the immense pecuniary mangle of its globalised and industrialised economy, insists on dictating the upbringing of the young.
When I was at university in the 1970s I watched a short film about the children of the Arctic in which the producers pointed out that the governments and other authority figures of the Far North had seen fit to make academic and technical education, as provided by trained conventional teachers, compulsory for all youngsters in the Arctic with the result that the finished products – the high school graduates – simply lacked the skills to follow the ways of their fathers. They all wanted hi-tech jobs and careers and scorned the traditional lifestyles.
How characteristic of our South Asian ways! The son of the small rice farmer with a secondary school education and a certificate in business studies from a college does not want to, and cannot if he did want to, till the land for his bread.
I have heard it said that one way out of poverty for Bangladesh is for the whole country to focus on the ship-breaking industry. When an ageing cargo or passenger vessel gets retired, they say, it makes it final voyage to the beaches of Bangladesh where the locals literally swarm over it and turn it into scrap metal for re-sale. That is already happening embryonically in Bangladesh.
In the case of the Arctic the prospect is for the whole region to become the venue for only two significant kinds of activity: scientific research (emphasising atmospheric investigations) and eco-tourism. In other words the Arctic youngster who wants to reside in the lands and oceans of his forefathers will have two major career choices: to become either a scientist or else a tourist guide.
I think that is sad, very sad.
On a brighter note, Mr Allan Smith of Rankin Inlet, Nunavut said to me: “It (government policy) has been neglected for a long time but things are getting better. There has been a change of government. There is a conservative government now.”
In an increasingly interconnected world, these matters are getting progressively more and more relevant for the bulk of our readership.
THE END
This article was published in the 17th August, 2006 issue of the Bangla Mirror newspaper, read everywhere from the Arctic to the Antarctic.
posted by Ali @ 1:54 PM
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