Makah Whaling Aff
Aff
1AC Colonialism
The controversy surrounding Makah whaling is founded on the Western
romanticization of native identity; the Western control over Makah whaling is
intimately tied to the West’s desire to control and assimilate the Makah themselves.
van Ginkel 04—University of Amsterdam (Robert, 2004, ETNOFOOR, XVII(1/2), pp. 58-89, “The Makah
Whale Hunt and Leviathan’s Death: Reinventing Tradition and Disputing Authenticity in the Age of
Modernity”, rmf)
Apart from the above-mentioned issues, a considerable part of the debate relates to matters of tradition
and authenticity. Whereas whales were made human, whale hunters were demonized as savage brutes.
Opponents of the whale hunt believe that traditional subsistence is at odds with modernity and should
be restricted to people wholly dependent on it. They often refer to ‘barbarism’ and ‘barbaric traditions’,
to some extent harking back to the dogmas of evolutionism (not a particularly modernist epistemology
for that matter). For example, geographer Peter Walker raises the question of ‘whether killing whales is
indispensable for revitalizing Makah culture, and whether this goal outweighs the moral and political
costs’ (1999:8). He clearly does not think so, alluding to the ‘inevitability’ of cultural change which ‘calls
into question the idea of an unbreakable, unchanging cosmological circle between whaling and Makah
culture’ (ibid.:9). Others, however, think that cultural change – for example by adopting conveniences
and gadgets from the outside world – has compromised the ‘purity’ of Makah culture (cf. Martello
2004:270). Another aspect that has received much criticism is the use of contemporary equipment and
gadgets of modernity, which in the view of environmentalists ‘prove’ that the gray whale hunt is not
traditional. The utilization of new technology – even though this may only be auxiliary – is considered a
breach of tradition that deprives the Makah of still being ‘true’ Makah. Traditions are thus trivialized
and restricted to a toolkit, rather than associated with a complex of beliefs, symbolic meanings, social
structures, and practices that are culturally significant. It is not the tools that count, but the goals
pursued with the whale hunt. Exact replication is not a necessary condition to produce authenticity
(Sepez 2002:153). Moreover, ‘[e]xpecting cultures to remain static and cling to traditional methods is
both presumptuous (demeaning) and unrealistic’ (Reeves 2002:98). The environmentalists’ perception
is rooted in romantic notions of Indian-ness. At the heart of the controversies vis-`a-vis the Makah
whale hunt are the processes of authenticating and discrediting identity: ‘Who gets to control the
expression of Makah identity – both its legitimacy and legality? Who gets to decide what is “cultural,”
“traditional,” or “necessary?”’ (Erikson 1999:564). As Gupta relates, ‘most critiques of “tradition” as an
insufficient justification for sidestepping international norms ignore the importance of the way in which
“barbaric” traditions are exercised’ (1999:1755, n.72). Most societies have traditions that may be
regarded as such, and it is problematic when ‘traditions are forcefully quelled by an extraneous
majority’ (ibid.).
The Makah are well aware of the manner in which their cultural claims are berated and do not
acquiesce. For instance, when some environmental organizations depicted the whale hunt as sport or
recreation, Janine Bowechop said to a reporter: ‘That’s incredibly insulting and racist. : : : For them to
determine what it means to us brings us back to the last century when it was thought that Indians
could not speak for themselves and determine what things mean to us. I would not pretend to
determine what something means to another culture.’51 Part of the opponents’ argument is that if a
society has partly adapted culturally to modernity, it should do so wholly and give up its traditional
aspects. Indeed, the whole idea of what the tradition should be was appropriated by some of the
contestants of the Makah whale hunt. Paul Watson, for example, said after the Makah killed the gray
whale: ‘People are dancing and cheering. That’s a far cry from 150 years ago when their ancestors were
more sad and somber after a whale hunt. : : : They can celebrate and dance in the streets. We’ll do what
their ancestors did. We’ll mourn for the whale.’52 From the very onset of the Makah’s attempts to hunt
whales, Watson disputed the authenticity of their pursuit, saying their ancestors hunted to survive not
out of ‘cultural or traditional impulse’.Without the survival issue, ‘the hunt is an act of make-believe, an
empty gesture toward a vanished past with only one component that will have a real, immediate
meaning: The violent death of a living creature that has every right to be left alone.’53 Watson and his
compatriots seemingly attempt to legitimate a moral stance (‘killing whales is wrong’) by invoking a
moral image of how natives ought to behave according to their culture (‘adapt to modernity completely
or wholly return to your traditions’). The message conveyed seems to be that once you have
assimilated, you have lost your right to maintaining or revitalizing a tradition.
Critiques of Makah whaling serve to perpetuate colonialism by creating hierarchies of
morality in order to promote civility and assimilation
Enaemaehkiw Túpac Keshena 9, a Makah Native American and Writes about the Makah Issues, and
lives on the Makah reservation, http://bermudaradical.wordpress.com/2009/07/09/the-makah-whalingconflict-and-eco-colonialism/)
To a disturbing extent, whaling opponents have relied on colonialist or even racist arguments to develop
opposition to the Makah whale hunt. These arguments follow themes that have existed since colonial
times to maintain unequal power relationships between native and non-native peoples. Colonialism is
not the immediate goal of anti-whaling organizations, and such arguments do not invalidate the other
points raised by whaling opponents. As well, the actions and rhetoric of a few individuals and
organizations cannot represent the beliefs and attitudes of an entire movement. However, I raise these
arguments for criticism because I have not in my research come across a condemnation of the use of
such colonialist arguments by whaling opponents, or even an indication that these arguments will not be
used in the future. Native American political activity must be “incited” by outsiders because they cannot
act by themselves. Whaling opponents such as the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society have frequently
suggested that the Japanese are responsible for the Makah whale hunt. The only Japanese involvement
in west coast whaling has been a $20,000 start-up grant for a Nuu-chah-nulth whaling organization, the
World Council of Whalers. The Makah are not members of this organization. Ben Johnson (Makah Tribal
Council) has said that “Japan wanted to give us money, to help us buy boats, to show us how to kill the
whales, everything….We said no because we knew it would be very controversial, and we want to do
everything by the book.” Watson has not even accorded the Makah the status of co-conspirators in his
chess match, instead drawing directly on an image of the Makah as a passive people easily manipulated
by non-natives. This contradicts the statements of many Makah people, including Makah opponents of
the hunt, about the importance of whaling and the reasons the Makah desire to hunt.Native American
society can be reduced to a conflict between “tradition” and “assimilation.” Whaling opponents have
extended their arguments about subsistence versus commercial whaling by speaking of a division
between the Makah into “traditional” and “assimilated” camps. They suggest that Makah traditionalists
oppose the hunt as something non-traditional, while the tribal council reputedly wants the hunt only for
its economic potential. The Progressive Animal Welfare Society writes that “though the tribe is divided
over whaling, pro-whalers are in control of the tribal government. Opposition to whaling includes tribal
elders.” Strictly speaking, this is true, but the failure to note that elders also support the hunt clearly
intends to feed into romantic stereotypes about “traditional” versus “assimilated” Indians.Non-natives
know better than Native Americans what counts as “authentic” Indian culture.Whaling opponents have
also opposed the hunt by suggesting that Makah cultural aspirations are “inauthentic,” usually in the
process of telling the Makah what their culture was, is or ought to be. “I really doubt that [the Makah’s]
ancestors would respect this modern day version of whale hunting,” one woman writes. She continues:
This kind of romantic condemnation has been common historically in colonialist discourse about Native
Americans. This opponent of the Makah hunt dismisses what the Makah sayabout themselves and their
own experiences as if she possessed superior knowledge about the values and motivations of Native
Americans.Technological change is cultural assimilation. Another favorite theme among animal rights
activists is the assumption that technological change demonstrates the cultural assimilation of
indigenous peoples. Speaking of the Makah, one whale tour operator writes: Few people would confuse
Americans and Japanese just because we share a fondness for Sony Playstations, yet the Makah are told
their modernity “proves” they are no longer “authentically” Makah. More importantly, the Makah have
a right to perpetuate their culture, adapting it to meet new needs. The Makah should not have to
choose between putting their culture under glass, or abandoning it entirely in order to participate in
American society and the world economy.If Native Americans disagree with non-natives, it is because
they are barbaric. Whaling opponents often explain that the Makah must accept the “progress” and
“evolution” of society. By this they mean the Makah must accept the forced end of whaling as the
“natural” outcome of “social evolution” along with fibreglass and shopping centers. Sea Shepherd
explains: This argument would be quite familiar to nineteenth century Americans, or to the European
colonizers of any continent. It is exactly the same argument made under the banners of Manifest
Destiny, assimilation policies, white supremacy and social Darwinism. Non-natives set a standard for
cultural behavior in these arguments that only a small fraction of westerners follow (one estimate of
vegetarians in the US places them at 12 million out of 248 million Americans). To lecture the Makah on
ritual killing, while our society thinks nothing of killing chickens, cattle and pigs (with all the ritual
precision of factory farms) seems hypocritical. Keith Johnson, President of the Makah Whaling
Commission, calls this “moral elitism.”In short, whaling opponents frequently make colonialist
arguments that delegitimize the Makah’s right to whale by comparing the Makah unfavorably to an
ahistorical and idealized portrait of Native Americans. Many non-natives appreciate in vague terms that
Native Americans were “in harmony” with their environment. With our concern to create a
environmentally sound culture and society, Native Americans form a ready target for the projection of
our fears and fantasies. Just as long, of course, as real Native Americans with real needs do not intrude
on these representations. Then an elaborate arsenal of colonialist arguments can be raised to suggest
that it is not our own stereotypes but modern Native Americans who are wrong. Whatever one believes
about the morality of whale hunting, these arguments are themselves an injustice to the Makah.
The history of colonialism is the history of relentless genocide and imperialism.
“Cultural assimilation” is the constant paving over of difference, sacrificing indigenous
identities on the altar of conformity. Absent freedom to whale, the Makah will be
absorbed into the growing assemblage of uniformity
Sciullo 08—Department of Communication at Georgia State University (Nick J., 10/13/08, New York City
Law Review, Vol. 12, “A Whale of a Tale: Postcolonialism, Critical Theory, and Deconstruction: Revisiting
the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling Through a Socio-Legal Perspective”, rmf)
The arrival of non-Indians here led to multiple tragedies that have continued long after the non- Indians
should have known better, and these clashes have called forth from many Indian people and tribes so
multifarious an array of creative transformations of themselves that no single book, and not even a
multivolume set of books, could chronicle them all.96 No alleged effect of colonization evokes greater
moral indignation or fretful nostalgia than fragmentation. Colonialism breaks things. It shatters an
imagined wholeness. Colonialism’s will to power creates binaries where a unified field and healthy
singularity of cultural purpose once existed. The self of the colonizer explodes a native cultural
solidarity, producing the spiritual confusion, psychic wounding, and economic exploitation of a new
and dominated other. Colonization imposes evil, fear, and ignorance on the innocent native
landscape.97 The post-colonialism debate is very much about robbery—a spiritual theft of subjectivity
that manifests itself through practices of cultural superiority, xenophobia, and the oppressor’s lack of
humynity. What was once whole, striated, expansive and indefinite is now smoothed by a larger
discourse of dominance. The development of colonialism and its refinements and rebirths have
perpetuated a psychology of control that has injured, actually and metaphorically, indigenous
populations. Post-colonial critiques are often multifaceted, but all center on a rejection of imperialism
and/or a rejection of the blanket concept of “Enlightenment Thinking.”98 Post-colonial critiques have
also been termed “radical anti-imperialism” by Patrick Callahan.99 The argument that the United States
has or is an empire is hotly debated, mostly because parties focus on indicia of formal empire—control
over cultures, sovereignties, economic strength, etc. To be sure, there is a compelling case to be made
that the United States is an empire when considering its relationship to the indigenous peoples of the
United States. With the recent events of September 11, 2001 deployed as a call for a new imperialism,
the post-colonialism critique is relevant to today’s political and philosophical discourses.100 However,
perhaps the most palpable example of United States’ empire is indirect empire.101 Indirect empire
often arises out of advantages in international trade, popular culture indoctrination, and the spread of
a country’s commercial interests and objectives—Starbucks, McDonalds, etc. Both types of empire are
serious problems for subalterns of all varieties.102 These “serious” problems pose serious threats to the
existence of the Makah.103 There is clearly a war of words over the appropriateness of whaling.
However, what is particularly stressing is the threat to Makah identity. Anti-whaling arguments are
made in a manner that challenges the subjectivity of the Makah by debasing various cultural claims
about the relationship between the Makah and whaling.104 The denial of subjectivity is the most
unfortunate philosophical turn toward destruction. Post-colonial critiques often rely on historical and
sociological analysis, paying special attention to the impacts of international relations not only on
nation-states and large bodies, but also on the individual.105 Here post-colonial critiques pick up where
standard deconstruction fails. The Makah have a long history of contact with the forces of colonization
through the 19th century.106 Because post-colonial critiques involve a critique of imperialism, they are
particularly effective tools in discussions of international relations and international law. They also offer
important insights in the analysis of indigenous populations. There is a long history of United States
imperialism107 and a clear exercise of cultural genocide with respect to the United States’ indigenous
populations. Even though Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s Undersecretary of State, Sumner Welles famously
declared “the age of imperialism is ended;”108 that notion has not resonated with the colonized within
the United States borders. The Makah have been no exception to the deplorable treatment of
indigenous people by the United States government.109 The ban on whaling is not a policy solely
against the Makah, it is the support of a convention that desires to ban whaling across the globe,
denying the cultural historic practices of many peoples. This is an example of international relations no
longer being about East versus West, but at a deeper level being about Michael Hardt and Antonio
Negri’s notions of empire.110 Although this article focuses largely on the Makah, arguments could be
made that incorporate post-colonial criticisms as they relate to a number of other countries and
cultures.
And any critique of Makah whaling is based on eco-colonialism. Whaling allows the
Makah to resist colonialism and reaffirm their culture.
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
The complicated views of those involved on both sides of the whaling issue cannot be monolithically
encapsulated in these two perspectives. Just as contemporary Makahs do not all share the same
ethnobiological para- digm (at least one tribal member became well known for embracing the whale
rights viewpoint, while some others who supported the hunt were not inclined to the traditional
spiritual orientation), opponents of the whaling do not possess a unified view of whale rights either.
Nonetheless, the view that whaling is somehow a morally offensive activity underlay much of the
popular debate. In this context, the issue was not about conservation or allo- cation of a resource as
with waterfowl hunting and fishing, but about incom- patible views of morality and rights. This puts the
conflict in a class with other cultural activities that offend dominant sensibilities and arouse activist
passions, such as female circumcision in Africa (see Shell-Duncan and Hernlund, 2000) and the use of
peyote in the Native American Church.
Within this framework, the clash of ethnobiological paradigms over whale hunting took on similarities to
historical clashes over culture, religion, and language. Interestingly, this aspect of the controversy served
to enhance the dedication of some Makahs to the cause, for whom it was almost a badge of honor to be
disparaged by non-natives for continuing their cultural tra- ditions. The whale hunters felt a connection
to their ancestors who had been arrested for engaging in potlatches, beaten for speaking Indian
languages in government boarding schools, or vilified by Christian missionaries as culturally inferior
savages (Johnson, 1999). With protests and other attempts to block the tribe’s efforts seen as an
extension of ongoing pro- cesses of colonization, whaling and the activities surrounding it became a
form of resistance to a larger history of cultural oppression.
1AC Epistemology
The United States’ control over Makah whaling rights is based on a Western scientific
approach that shuts out native viewpoint from wildlife management. This tramples
the rights of native culture and ensures species loss that will be detrimental to
biodiversity everywhere
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
Hunting and fishing rights have been a major source of conflict for indigen- ous groups seeking to
maintain or regain access to natural resources. The right to culture is one of the bases for asserting
these rights, but frequently it has been insufficient to protect them from encroachment by state and
national governments. This article compares the controversy over whaling by the Makah Indian tribe
with similar conflicts to elucidate some of the common difficulties Native American resource users face
in enacting the right to culture, and the treatment these issues have received under US law. It also
examines some issues specific to Makah whaling that reveal how cultural revival is an important aspect
of the right to culture which presents special challenges. Treaty rights emerge as a powerful legal force
in shaping subsistence rights for tribes in the United States, with strong influences on and interplay with
the concept of cultural rights.
Subsistence hunting and fishing involve the harvest of local resources for local consumption. These
activities are extremely important to many Native American groups, for whom they provide a critical
source of food, connec- tion to the land, maintenance of traditions and cultural institutions, econ- omic
benefits, and strong sense of identity. Unfortunately, many resources which have been relied upon for
thousands of years are in decline because of a variety of pressures unrelated to subsistence use.
Management and regu- lation are needed to ensure the long-term viability of certain species and
associated cultural practices. Native American groups have a vested interest in maintaining populations
of the species they utilize, but their needs have not always been recognized in natural resource
management efforts.
The intuitive appeal and analytical vagueness of a right to culture, as noted by Robert Winthrop (2000),
bump headlong into each other when limited resources are at stake. The management of many wideranging animal species, essential to fostering biodiversity in the modern world, is an arena in which
conflicts over cultural diversity issues are particularly likely to arise. In this context, the framework of
cultural rights can become a tool for inserting native concerns that might otherwise be ignored into
policy- making processes. It can also become a new battleground for competing claims over allocation,
tradition, and sovereignty.
Because migrating and other wide-ranging animal species occur in a variety of territories, the possibility
for culturally based conflicts over use and management is greater than with other types of organisms.
This article will examine conflicts over three types of migrating animals which are utilized by Native
Americans: geese, salmon, and whales. Biologists and politicians entrusted with making decisions
regarding wildlife management are not always sensitive to the concerns of minority cultural groups.
Policy decisions based on biological considerations alone—migration patterns, reproductive seasons,
sustainable yield, etc.—can, at best, overlook the legitimate concerns of regional cultural groups, and
can, at worst, be employed intentionally to ‘undermine a group’s cultural integrity’ (Winthrop, 2000)
under the guise of science-based management. In addition, attempts to eliminate the subsistence
practices of minority cultural groups, whether they are challenges to treaty rights or to more general
cultural rights, can generate increased conflict, which ultimately may be more detrimental to the
sustainability of the resource.
Makah whaling is based on an alternative human nature relations that values nature
and is opposed to Western anthropocentric thought
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
If one can consider this perspective to be a culturally-based understand- ing of the nature of the
biological world and human relations with it, what transpired in the Makah whaling debate is partly a
result of conflicting ethnobiological paradigms. Interestingly, the conflict is not based on a Makah belief
that whales lack the traits that elevated them to superstatus in the eyes of whale rights advocates, but
rather on a different view of the proper relationship between humans and whales, and the
parameters of appropriate action.
Hunter-gatherer societies frequently ascribe human-like qualities to most animals and Makahs were no
exception, as evidenced by their rich oral tra- dition. The idea that such ascriptions were unfounded
and constituted unscientific anthropomorphism has its roots in the European Enlighten- ment. Thus
the idea that whales, like humans, have thoughts, feelings, and family ties appears to be a new and
radical rethinking of animal existence, but it actually corresponds to long-held beliefs of Makah tribal
members. The key difference then is not in the characterization of whales.
Where the ethnobiological paradigms truly conflict is on the issue of rights, rather than on the issue of
attributes. For whale rights advocates, the human-like qualities of some whales give them a kind of right
to life. Historically, for Makahs, as with many hunter-gatherer societies, the right for humans and other
animals to hunt for food is an inherent part of the order of nature in which the prey willingly succumbs
to those hunters who demonstrate worthiness by their behavior (Tanner, 1979). As expressed by
Makahs on the 1999 whaling crew, the whale ‘gave itself up’ to them when the time was right and was
treated as the ‘Guest of Honor’ when landed on the beach (Johnson, 1999).
Opening up to alternative non-Western relationships to nature is critical to solve
extinction. The current anthropocentric mindset guarantees unsustainable
development.
Avelar 14 (Idelber Avelar is a Full Professor specialized in contemporary Latin American fiction, literary theory, and Cultural Studies. He received his Ph.D.
from Duke University in 1996, March 2014, “Contemporary Intersections of Ecology and Culture: On Amerindian Perspectivism and the Critique of
Anthropocentrism”, http://muse.jhu.edu.proxy.lib.umich.edu/journals/revista_de_estudios_hispanicos/v048/48.1.avelar.pdf.) //ky
To think the contemporary according to this logic is to identify and think through the present’s locus of non-coincidence with itself, its blind spot, so to speak. The
contemporary thus fundamentally names a relationship with the present, but the relationship takes place with that which remains hidden and repressed in the
present as its condition of possibility. An epoch in which the contemporary can be thought is, then, necessarily one in which the present lodges within itself some
seeds of discord with itself. Agamben rephrases that energy—let us understand the untimely as an energy, an intensity, in Deleuze’s sense of the word—as the
ability to stare at the present in the face so as to see its darkness, not its light.1 In order to think through the contemporary, therefore, the question to be posed is
not so much what is the difference between our age and previous ages, but what is our age’s difference with itself, what is, so to speak, its point of non-coincidence
with itself, what is its untimely ground. I will develop in this essay the hypothesis that such a
blind spot, unique to our time’s relationship
with itself, must be understood in the context of what geologists have called the Anthro- pocene Era. This is a period
marked by our ability to do such severe damage to the environment that humans have now become
geological agents, equipped with the concrete possibility of extinguishing our own species and most
others, no longer as a result of one single catastrophic event, as it was commonly feared when a possible
nuclear explosion loomed behind the Cold War, but as an unintended, long-term conse- quence of an
unsustainable model of development.
In a piece entitled “The Climate of History: Four Theses,” in my estimation one of the great papers of our time, Indian historian Dipesh Chakrabarty
offers the historical background for the concept of the Anthropocene:
The period of human history usually associated with what we today think of as the institutions of civilization—the beginnings of
agriculture, the founding of cities, the rise of the religions we know, the invention of writing—began about ten thousand years ago, as the planet
moved from one geological period, the last ice age or the Pleis- tocene, to the more recent and warmer Holocene. The Holocene is the period we are supposed to
Now that humans—thanks to our
numbers, the burning of fossil fuel, and other related activities—have become a geological agent on the planet,
some scientists have proposed that we recognize the beginning of a new geological era, one in which humans act as a
be in; but the possibility of anthropogenic climate change has raised the question of its termination.
main determinant of the environment of the planet. The name they have coined for this new geological age is Anthropocene. (208–09)
Chakrabarty has drawn a brilliant set of conclusions from the premises underlying the concept of the Anthropocene. In short, Chakrabarty argues that it is no longer
possible to write the histories of globalization, of capital, of culture without taking into account, at the same time, the history of the species. There are so many of
us cutting down so many trees and burning so many fossils that the history of our culture can no longer be separated from the history of nature such as it once was.
Whereas “[f]or centuries scientists thought that earth processes were so large and powerful that nothing we could do could change them. . . . that human
chronologies were insignificant compared with the vastness of geological time” (Oreskes qtd. in Chakrabarty 206), we
have now become agents of
devastation to the environment who are capable of changing the most basic physical processes of the earth, of which global warming and the acidification of
the oceans are but two of the most terrifying components. Our time is then characterized by an unprecedented convergence between ecology and culture, whereby
it is no longer possible to separate human history and natural history. As Chakrabarty states, it is only recently that humans have become geo- logical agents to the
extent that the dynamic of human history has be- gun to impact natural history. We must, therefore, “put global histories of capital in conversation with the species
history of humans” (212).
The concept of the Anthropocene, coined by ecologist Eugene Stoermer and later widely used by Nobel Prize winner atmospheric chemist Paul Crutzen, inaugurates
for Chakrabarty a period that puts in crisis the separation between human history and natural history, a relatively stable one at least since Hobbes and Vico. Given
their trajec- tory in recent decades, this places the humanities in a particular bind: if we could single out the major feature that traverses these disciplines in the
twentieth century, it would be the culturalization that has accom- panied the so-called linguistic turn. The culturalist critique of natural- ization has been one of the
distinctive features of the humanities (and to a certain degree, the social sciences) over the past century, if not the structuring one. The unveiling as cultural of traits
assumed or mistaken as natural has been the bread and butter of humanistic disciplines. In that operation, nature occupies the position of a receding horizon, a
limit that keeps being pushed back toward a realm that is never really present, never embodying a positive existence. In that model, we
never really
know what nature is, only what it is not and what the mistaken other has taken it to be. In the humanities, throughout the
twentieth century, nature has been a constant presence, but only negatively, i.e. as the object of an
operation of denaturalization. The renewed insepa- rability of natural history and human history pointed out above and experienced today challenges the
humanities to understand nature in ways other than simply through the lens of a culturalist critique of naturalization. It is no longer enough to unveil the cultural
ground of concepts, notions, and habits hitherto taken to be natural. In
the ur- gency of the ecological crisis we live today, we can
no longer afford not to face the question of a nature as positivity.
To be sure, there are recent examples of how the relationship between nature and culture has been recast on a new basis. Cultural
studies, anthropology,
Legal Studies, and other disciplines have all been led to rethink paradigms that implicitly assumed nature and
human history to be separate spheres. Michel Foucault’s concept of biopolitics as well as Giorgio Agamben’s notion of thanatopolitics crossed
that divide by inaugurating an understanding of governmentality as a tech- nology for the administration and disciplining of life. In the concept of biopolitics, nature
is no longer a receding horizon or an illusion to be unmasked. Foucault’s use of the term biopolitics has very little in common, of course, with earlier usages, either
in German thinking of the 1920s, characterized by the understanding of the state as a living organism, or in French thinkers of the 1960s such as Starobinski and
Jean Morin, who attempted to explain human history from life. Bio- politics for Foucault is not only a method for population control, but also a technology for the
production and reproduction of life. The era of biopolitics is, then, the era of the biological regulation of popula- tion. Especially suggestive to me among the heirs of
Foucault has been Argentinean philosopher Fabián Ludueña, who in a book entitled La comunidad de los espectros argued against Agamben’s conception of politics
as a supplement to bios simply added a posteriori on to a realm of raw zoe. As Brazilian essayist Alexandre Nodari noted in his review, Ludueña’s questioning of the
opposition between bios and zoe grounds his choice for the term “zoopolitics,” rather than “biopolitics,” to des- ignate the primary substance of human politics
(Nodari, “Fabricar” 2). What is stake in the production of humanity for Ludueña is not simply an exclusion of zoos, of the animal. Politics has set itself, from the beginning, “el arte de la domesticación del animal humano,” in a process where politics is always coextensive with eugenics (Ludueña Romandini 21).2 It is not by
chance, then, that Nodari sees a link between census and censorship, insofar as “the counting of properties and of popula- tion, its redistribution according to
governmental calculations in classes, the registry of births and deaths etc. allowed for a better organization of the republic, facilitating the detection and correction
of unproductive elements (the vagabonds) by the censor” (Nodari, “Fabricar” 3).3
Both in the Aristotelian response to Platonic eugenics as well as in Christianity, Ludueña reads different attempts
at producing an
anthropotechnique that demands life to be separated away from its in- tensity, its force, its animality,
which must then be measured, confined, calculated, and framed. Christianity would later, of course, think of immortality as the
essential attribute that separates the human from the animal. For Thomas Aquinas, for example, the non-human animals had “no place in the Kingdom of God”
(Nodari, “Fabricar” 4). The Christian invention of man, then, draws upon a methodical elimina- tion of the primordial animal. Socratic Greece and Christianity shared
an attempt to purge animality out of man, to abolish the animalitas proper to man. Ludueña
traces a continuity between the
anthropo- techniques of Christianity and of modern humanism: from Descartes to Heidegger, animals tend to appear in the
philosophical text precisely when the essence of humanity is being defined. Ludueña is rightfully skeptical of some of the alternatives to this anthropotechnique that
have been proposed, from the project of an “affirmative biopolitics” to the illusory attempt to void Christian patriarchalism by returning to its Pauline foundations,
such as exemplified by Alain Badiou or Slavoj Žižek (Ludueña Romandini 224). Ludueña’s book does not quite get there, but the conclusion seems ineluctable that a
line of flight away from Christian-Western anthropocentrism imposes itself.
According to what has been presented so far, what is, then, the contemporary in Agamben’s sense, i.e. what is the zone of untimeliness that would allow us to see
the darkness of the present? In this sense, our
times find their limit and their blind spot in the very project of the
primacy of the human, the special and unique nature conferred on the homo sapiens. This is certainly not a fresh
and unthought-of idea: from Montaigne to Nietzsche, there is a distinct critique of anthropo- centrism running parallel to the main tradition of Western philosophy.
But learning what we have learned from Chakrabarty’s analysis of the cultural and political consequences of the Anthropocene Era, it
is dif- ficult to
refrain from the conclusion that the expansion and domination of man, the full realization of his power
(and I use the gender-specific form deliberately here), can only mean the complete extinction of all biodiversity in the
planet, much like Thomas Aquinas had imagined the Kingdom of God without any animals. What is contemporary to us and therefore most invisible, in a very
literal sense, is precisely that the realization of the human project to its fullest extent can only lead to the destruction of
his natural surroundings and, along with them, of course, the destruction of the very conditions of possibility in
which man can exist as such. Here is the crux of the contemporary, or to use Walter Benjamin’s famous phrase, the index to a memory that “flashes
up in a moment of danger” (255). It seems clear that we must think outside the anthropocentric paradigm, or pretty soon
we will not be thinking anymore. An internal deconstruction of this paradigm will not suffice.
Amerindian societies have, in fact, a wealth of knowledge ac- cumulated in what we might call a nonanthropocentric understand- ing of the world. My firm belief is that one of the inalienable ethical tasks for Latin American
intellectuals today is to come to terms with that knowledge to the fullest extent possible. Its most sophisticated
ac- count in contemporary anthropology has coalesced around the theory of “Amerindian perspectivism,” developed by Brazilian anthropologist Eduardo Viveiros
de Castro over the past two decades. It should be pointed out at the outset that perspectivism here is not reducible to relativism, subjectivism, or any of the other
correlate terms within the Western philosophical tradition. In fact, Amerindian perspectivism, Viveiros de Castro has argued, should be understood as orthogonal to
the opposition between universalism and relativism (“Os pronomes” 115), such as it will become clear with an anecdote told by Lévi-Strauss in Race et histoire and
Tristes tropiques.
The affirmative is based on a new political epistemology that resists the colonizing
effect of Western discourses. This is the only form of ethical politics that can recognize
non-human agency.
Kennedy 7 – Ph.d in philosophy from Murdoch Univesrity (“Ocean Views: An investigation into human-ocean relations”
http://researchrepository.murdoch.edu.au/123/2/02Whole.pdf)
In this dissertation I chart several meanings
attributed to oceans in modern Western societies that are highly
influential in shaping human-ocean relations and highlight ethical and political issues to which we should respond. In so doing, the
examination of conceptions of oceans I carry out throughout this dissertation does not provide a complete narrative of the historical development of meanings
attributed to oceans in Western societies. Rather, this dissertation plots a particular course through the great, though insufficiently explored, expanses of Western
conceptions of oceans. My approach examines meanings attributed to oceans that are anchored in the Western discourses of law, science and aesthetics.5 I seek
out these three discourses
of law, aesthetics and science because they are productive dimensions for illuminating human-ocean relations in
Western societies. Moreover, as these three discourses are complex, I deal with only a fraction of their possible scope. But to limit is sometimes to reveal and thus I
hope the limited scope of my engagement has resulted in a purposive analysis of the way certain Western discourses have
produced particular
norms that influence the way the Western subject relates to the oceans.
I suggest that the contemporary
discourses of oceanic lives I am concerned with have been totalising, leaving little room
for diversity. They have also been colonising, leaving little room for non-human flourishing. I argue that totalising and
colonising practices in relation to oceans need to be resisted in order to facilitate just existences for oceans . My focus
on the facilitation of just existences for oceans will beelaborated upon further in this dissertation. But to briefly indicate here how just existences for oceans may be
facilitated, I
argue for inclusive knowledge production and decision-making processes in which there is a capacity for a
diversity of views to influence outcomes.
Part of my task in valuing and vouching for just ocean existences in this way—for humans and non-humans—leads me to argue in this dissertation that some
conceptions of oceans are better than others. I concur with Haraway when she writes:
We exist in a sea of powerful stories: They are the condition of finite rationality and personal and collective life histories. There is no way out of stories; but no
matter what the One-Eyed Father says, there
are many possible structures, not to mention contents, of narration. Changing the
stories, in both material and semiotic senses, is a modest intervention worth making. (1997, 45)
Accordingly, my thesis is that particular conceptions of oceans developed and perpetuated in the Western discourses of law, aesthetics and science are highly
influential in structuring contemporary human-ocean relations. Moreover, the conceptions that I discuss unnecessarily constrain possibilities for imagining and
understanding human-ocean relations in Western societies. Consequently, just ocean existences are being hindered for identifiable reasons. Improving
the
prospects of just ocean existences can be achieved through the use of politically generated knowledges
about oceans to shift policy towards a set of social-environmental goals that are not widely imagined by
the Western mind.
As will become clear in the course of my discussion, the
scope of my thesis does not provide for sustained engagement with specific
marine environmental disputes or policy initiatives. My concern is with the discourses that frame debates and
policymaking more generally, and then with a model in which specific disputes and policymaking activities can
take place.
In arguing my thesis, I take on board and travel with a number of philosophical, social and political theories. Principally, the insights of feminist and ecological
feminist thinkers into forms of oppression and social and environmental justice have stirred the analysis I carry out. The conceptual analysis and theoretical insights
of avariety of thinkers across a range of disciplines assist me to develop a critique targeted toward the social and cultural dimensions of human exploitation and
degradation of oceans. I also go beyond critique to explore ways of acknowledging non-human agency that work toward addressing the abuse.
It is important to add that in going beyond critique I
advocate for a view in which policy debates and outcomes are driven,
at least in part, with forms of political epistemology that de-centres the experts—scientists in particular. Political
epistemology is a term I use to conceptualise democratic “reciprocal knowledge making” (Fawcett 2000, 136).
I also advocate for ocean policy that centres both the non-human realm (which is often backgrounded) and our
active construction of reality (which is often overlooked). A theme in my interventions in this dissertation is to advocate for understandings of
oceans that acknowledge “both our active construction of reality and nature’s role in these negotiations” (Cheney 1994, 175). Political
epistemology
that is inclusive of a diversity of perspectives and roles— human and non-human—and takes seriously the
possibilities of a democratic process is, for me, the basis of ethical politics.
My concern with democratic political epistemology is discussed in detail in my final Chapter. However, the central themes in my dissertation of democratic process
and ethical politics bear further elaboration prior to introducing the contents of each chapter. The following preamble establishes the background against which
much of my discussion of the Western discourses of law, aesthetics and science can be read. That is to say, much
of what is considered the
‘reality’ of oceans through these discourses is a social construction wherein rarely, if ever, do these
discourses take seriously the possibility that oceans have agency.
1AC Solvency
Despite having signed the Treaty of Neah Bay in 1855 that protects the Makah tribe’s
whaling rights, the federal government has continually denied the tribe of this ability.
The current process is costly and full of unnecessary legal burdens—removal of these
would reestablish these rights
Pombo 05—Chairman of the House Committee on Natural Resources (Richard, 11/10/05, 109th
Congress, 1st Session, House of Representatives Report, “EXPRESSING THE SENSE OF THE CONGRESS
UPHOLDING THE MAKAH TRIBE TREATY RIGHTS”, http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/CRPT109hrpt283/html/CRPT-109hrpt283.htm, rmf)
H. Con. Res. 267 expresses support for upholding the right of the Makah Tribe to hunt whales under
the Treaty of Neah Bay. The Tribe is prevented from enjoying its treaty right by a ruling of the Ninth
Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals under the Marine Mammal Protection Act. The concurrent resolution is
necessary because the federal government has an obligation to honor deals the United States made
with Indian tribes under treaties. During the 19th century, the United States entered into a number of
treaties with sovereign tribes in the West. The government's goal was to acquire the tribes' lands to
make room for non-Indian settlement and expansion of U.S. territory. These treaties of ``cession''
usually involved deals under which the tribes gave up significant amounts of land in exchange for
reservations under the jurisdiction of the tribe, and for the protection of certain rights. Such rights often
included the right of tribal members to hunt and fish in certain areas. The Makah Tribe resides on
westernmost reservation in the United States, on the Olympic Peninsula in the State of Washington.
Under the Treaty of Neah Bay of 1855, the Tribe ceded about 300,000 acres of its aboriginal homelands
to the United States. Article 4 of the treaty secured whaling rights to the Tribe, the only such American
Indian tribe with whaling rights under treaty. The Tribe hunted gray whales for subsistence until it
ceased hunts in the 1920s when the whale population was reduced by commercial whaling. However,
gray whales were still hunted until 1946 when an international commercial harvest ban was put into
place. Whale populations have rebounded in recent decades and a subsistence quota was approved for
the Tribe to harvest up to 20 gray whales from 1998 through 2002, and for 20 whales between 2003 and
2007 (with no more than five allowed to be taken in any one year). The quota is implemented in the U.S.
through the Whaling Convention Act. The Tribe took one gray whale until lawsuits by animal rights
activists blocked additional hunts. In 2004, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals required the Tribe to seek
a waiver under the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 (MMPA) to harvest a whale, irrespective of
the Tribe's treaty right. While the Tribe has not conceded its treaty right, in February 2005 it requested a
MMPA waiver from the National Marine Fisheries Service. There is no guarantee the waiver will be
granted, leaving the Tribe with costly paperwork, studies and legal burdens that may last years with no
certain outcome. More importantly, the Tribe is being forced to pursue a process that is contrary to its
treaty. The precedent set by this decision could affect other treaty rights of other tribes. This is why the
National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) and the Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians adopted
Resolutions #MOH-04-025 and #98-35, respectively, in support of the Makah Tribe treaty rights. The
NCAI resolution notes that the MMPA ruling ``sets a dangerous precedent that threatens the Treaty
hunting and fishing rights of Tribes across the United States and Alaska.'' Specifically, H. Con. Res. 267
measure expresses the sense of Congress that requiring the Tribe to adhere to the MMPA waiver
process is contrary to the Tribe's treaty. It further expresses that the government should uphold the
Tribe's treaty right to hunt gray whales. During the full committee markup of the concurrent resolution,
the Chairman offered two amendments. The amendment to the resolving clause clarifies that Congress
disapproves of making the Tribe obtain a waiver under the MMPA to pursue its treaty right to hunt
gray whales. The underlying text of the concurrent resolution expresses disapproval of an ``abrogation''
of the Tribe's treaty right. While the word ``abrogation'' was intended to make a strong statement, it is
not an appropriate term to use in the context of treaty rights, and the term is accordingly deleted by the
amendment. The amendment to the preamble makes technical corrections, except for the amendments
to the seventh and eighth ``whereas'' clauses. The seventh and eight clauses are amended to clarify that
Congress finds that the Tribe's treaty rights are seriously impaired, not legally abrogated as declared
in the underlying resolution.
The ban on whaling is an enforcement of colonial law that has historically
misrepresented indigenous people and impeded tribal self-determination
Tanner 09—Co-coordinator of Borderlands Research and Education (Charles Jr., 9/18/09, Institute for
Research and Education on Human Rights, “Keeping our Word: Indigenous Sovereignty and Treaty
Rights”, https://www.irehr.org/issue-areas/treaty-rights-and-tribal-sovereignty/319-keeping-our-wordindigenous-sovereignty-and-treaty-rights, rmf)
The concept of "sovereignty" is not of native origin. Rulers of ancient states claimed ultimate authority
over their territories. In Europe the concept extends back to the Roman Empire, the papal claim to
universal power in medieval times, and the "divine right" of monarchs. The idea of "popular
sovereignty" spurred the impulse toward democracy that eventually pushed aside many crumbling
monarchies. Eons before European contact, the indigenous peoples of the Americas routinely defined
and enforced territorial boundaries. These boundaries often included overlapping areas in which two or
more tribes shared resources and were understood by tribal members as relationships between both
land and peoples. However, the concept of sovereignty is now commonly used to describe tribal rights
and can help inform respectful relations between non-indigenous and indigenous peoples. In this
respect, sovereignty refers to a collective body or government holding the ultimate political authority
in a geographic area. The "sovereign" is empowered to make collective decisions concerning group
membership and economic practices; the choice of institutions and external relationships; and sociocultural and other matters. Because this concept has its origins in the history of states, it also has
limitations when applied to tribal nations. While it correctly conveys the political authority of tribes, it
understates the importance of understanding tribal sovereignty as an inherent right of indigenous
communities to self-determination – even when tribal institutions and practices look different than
traditional American conceptions of government. Anti-Indian activists often claim that tribal sovereignty
is an invention of the U.S. government, granted to tribes through legislation, executive order or court
decree. Nothing could be further from the truth. No act of the U.S. government ever gave, or justly
took way, the right of indigenous peoples to govern their lands and resources and the populations
living in their territories. Tribes are, in fact, nations – self-identified groups sharing cultural traditions
and history in a common territory where they seek to maintain collective self-determination. It is this
history of living in their homelands and governing the life of the nation that created tribal sovereignty.
While it did not create these rights, the U.S. government has long recognized inherent tribal sovereignty.
Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall expressed this in 1832 when he wrote that "Indian nations
had always been considered as distinct, independent political communities, retaining from their original
natural rights, as the undisputed possessors of the soil, from time immemorial." Marshall continued that
Indian tribes "rank among those powers who are capable of making treaties." The "words ‘treaty’ and
‘nation’," he wrote, have been "applied…to Indians, as we have applied them to other nations of the
earth."[1] In Marshall’s words, tribes are nations, just like England and the United States. While
nationhood and sovereignty are facts of indigenous political existence, and despite Marshall’s highsounding words, the U.S. government has never fully respected tribal sovereignty – an unfortunate
legacy of its colonial origins. A cornerstone of federal Indian law remains the so-called Discovery
Doctrine, an 11th century papal "theory" by which Christian states justified extending their reach into
the lands of "heathens" and "infidels."[2] This doctrine was written into U.S. law in 1823 when John
Marshall wrote: The United States…have unequivocally acceded to that great and broad rule by which
its civilized inhabitants now hold this country…They maintain, as all others have maintained, that
discovery gave an exclusive right to extinguish the Indian title of occupancy, either by purchase or by
conquest…" (emphasis added)[3] Congress claims a "plenary power" over Indian nations that it has used
to terminate tribes, violate treaties and expropriate tribal lands. Under this assumed "power," Congress
began seizing jurisdiction over "major crimes" on reservations in 1885 and, in the 1950s, terminated
more than 100 tribes and imposed some states’ laws on Indian Country. Alongside the Marshall Court’s
recognition of tribal political status, and a ban on extending state law into Indian Country, Marshall
termed tribes "domestic dependent nations" whose relationship with the United States "resembles that
of a ward to his guardian." [4] The designation of tribes as "dependent" has since been used by the
Supreme Court to strip tribal governments of criminal jurisdiction over non-Indians and civil jurisdiction
over non-Indians on non-Indian owned property on reservations.[5] The Supreme Court continues to use
the 1887 Allotment Act – a law that opened tribal lands to white settlement – to justify extending state
jurisdiction over Indian lands.[6] This legacy of colonial law and practice has placed serious obstacles in
the path of tribal self-determination. It undermines tribal efforts to protect tribal members from
violence by non-Indians, defend Indian lands from damage by profit-seeking corporations and develop
healthy economies. Environmental racism persists as tribal peoples and lands face threats from ongoing
and past mining operations; destruction of habitat for species important to tribal sustenance and
culture; nuclear testing and storage; and threats to tribal water rights. Tribes continue to fight for the
return of the remains of their ancestors and preserve important religious and cultural sites from
destruction. Despite such injustices, tribes continue to exercise and fight for political sovereignty. As a
result of tribal sovereignty tribes work to manage and protect their natural resources and lands;
develop their economies; defend their cultures and spiritual practices; hunt, fish and gather traditional
foods and medicines; and promote the preservation of tribal languages, among other things. U.S.
citizens also benefit from tribal sovereignty when jobs are created by tribal enterprises and
governments or when the power inherent in tribal sovereignty is used to protect the environment. By
exercising tribal sovereignty, tribes have improved fisheries management in Washington State through
co-management with state agencies and engage in numerous habitat restoration projects with local
governments and non-Indian community members. Tribes exercising political sovereignty have been a
driving force in efforts to save collapsing salmon populations in the Pacific Northwest.
1AC Treaty
Treaty rights are intrinsic to indigenous nations. However the US has repeatedly
violated and even abrogated these treaties, reifying the same colonialism that shaped
them in the first place
Tanner 09—Co-coordinator of Borderlands Research and Education (Charles Jr., 9/18/09, Institute for
Research and Education on Human Rights, “Keeping our Word: Indigenous Sovereignty and Treaty
Rights”, https://www.irehr.org/issue-areas/treaty-rights-and-tribal-sovereignty/319-keeping-our-wordindigenous-sovereignty-and-treaty-rights, rmf)
Treaty rights are inherent legal and moral rights held by indigenous nations. A treaty is a legal contract
between sovereign nations. European colonizers used treaties to legitimize the transfer of land from
tribal peoples. Treaties were also means of achieving peaceful relations and creating boundaries. Tribal
leaders often saw treaties as bringing about multi-cultural unity and relations of support and alliance.
Under the U.S. Constitution, the president can sign treaties with the advice and consent of the U.S.
Senate. Once approved by the Senate, Article 6 Section 2 of the Constitution states that "[A]ll Treaties
made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States shall be the supreme law of the
land; and the judges in every state shall be bound thereby, any thing in the Constitution or laws of any
state to the contrary notwithstanding." By signing treaties with tribes, the U.S. government recognized
their existence as sovereign nations. This was stated clearly in 1979 when the Supreme Court explained
that "A treaty, including one between the United States and an Indian tribe, is essentially a contract
between two sovereign nations." [7] Anti-Indian activists and politicians often describe treaties as giving
rights to Indian tribes. Likewise, they claim that treaty rights are "special rights" and that Indians are
"supercitizens" as a result of treaties. Such ideas are simply wrong. In reality, treaties reserved rights
long held by tribes. In exchange for land and other commitments tribes secured recognition of their
status and a federal commitment to encroach no further on the rights made explicit and implied in
treaties. The idea of treaty rights as reserved rights was recognized by the Supreme Court in 1905 in U.S.
v. Winans: "[T]he treaty was not a grant of rights to the Indians, but a grant of rights from them – a
reservation of those not granted …And the right was intended to be continuing against the United States
and its grantees as well as against the State and its grantees." [8] That is, treaties gave nothing to tribes,
only to the U.S. government and its citizens. By entering into treaties the United States obtained the
land and resource base that have allowed it to become the wealthiest society on earth. It is important
to recognize the unequal context in which treaty-making occurred. The era of treaty-making– from the
colonial period to 1871 – coincided with aggressive westward expansion by Americans, forced Indian
removal and repeated wars of aggression by the United States against indigenous peoples. While not
all treaties were signed under threat of forced removal and warfare, many were. Treaties were
negotiated in English and limited inter-tribal languages, a fact used to the advantage of U.S. treaty
negotiators.[9] Treaties were sometimes altered by the Senate without tribal approval and the United
States often used treaties to "divide and conquer" tribes.[10] White settlers also repeatedly rushed into
Indian Country, with the support of the U.S. military, in express violation of treaties – some of the
continent’s first "illegal aliens." The unequal relationship between tribes and the U.S. government
during treaty-making is recognized by the Supreme Court. As a result of this inequality and the federal
"trust" obligation to act in the interests of tribes, the Court has developed "canons of construction" used
to interpret treaty cases. These canons hold that treaties should be interpreted as they would have been
understood by tribes; that ambiguities in treaty language be interpreted liberally in support of tribes;
and that treaties must be liberally interpreted in favor of tribes. While these rules have produced
favorable rulings for tribes, courts have also ignored them in order to rule against tribes or limit tribal
rights. While the United States has legal and moral obligations to uphold treaty rights, treaty violations
by federal and state governments and U.S. citizens have been frequent. In part, these violations stem
from the fact that a legacy of colonialism continues to influence U.S. relations with Indian tribes.[11]
In Lone Wolf v. Hitchcock (1903) the Supreme Court described a congressional plenary power over tribes
that can be used to violate treaties: "Plenary authority over the tribal relations of the Indians has been
exercised by Congress from the beginning, and the power has always been deemed a political one, not
subject to be controlled by the judicial department of the government…The power exists to abrogate
the provisions of an Indian treaty."[12] The Court ruled that Congress can abrogate agreements with
tribes even when doing so is a result of fraud and misrepresentation and takes place without tribal
consent. Based on Lone Wolf and cases like it, the Supreme Court has expanded the "legal" means used
to violate treaties. While earlier cases required "explicit statutory language" to rule that a treaty had
been abrogated, in U.S. v Dion the Court ruled that Congressional abrogation can be inferred if there is
evidence that Congress "considered the conflict between its intended action…and an Indian treaty," and
then chose to resolve the "conflict by abrogating the treaty."[13] While treaty violations are often
considered wrongs committed in the distant past, the U.S. government has created both congressional
and judicial mechanisms for continuing to violate treaties with indigenous nations. Not surprisingly,
treaties continue to be violated by federal and state governments and U.S. citizens. Treaties can be
abrogated outright, as in U.S. v Dion, or violated when federal laws are imposed on tribes and interfere
with the exercise of treaty-reserved rights. The latter occurred when the 9th Circuit Appeals Court
imposed the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) on the Makah nation despite the tribe’s treatyreserved right to hunt whales. When five Makah men, frustrated with the pace of federal permitting
under the MMPA, hunted a gray whale in 2007, the federal government compounded this violation by
arresting them. The federal government has also allotted lands in express violation of treaty terms (1868
Treaty of Fort Laramie with the Lakota) and assumed control of lands never ceded by treaty (1863 Treaty
of Ruby Valley with the Western Shoshone).[14] Treaties have also been violated when treaty-reserved
resources are destroyed by federal or state governments or U.S. citizens. Washington State is presently
in violation of six treaties signed in the 1850s with Pacific Northwest tribes. These treaties reserved a
"right of taking fish at usual and accustomed grounds…in common with all citizens." In 1974 in U.S. v
Washington a federal district court recognized a treaty-reserved right to one-half the fish passing
through these "usual and accustomed" tribal fishing grounds.[15] However, the ongoing collapse of
Pacific salmon stocks, a result of multiple non-Indian economic practices, violates the treaties by
destroying the treaty-reserved fishery. In 2001, twenty tribes sued Washington State over hundreds of
state-constructed culverts that cut off hundreds of miles of salmon habitat. A 2006 sub-proceeding of
U.S. v Washington upheld a state obligation to "refrain from building or operating culverts under Statemaintained roads that hinder fish passage and thereby diminish the number of fish that would
otherwise be available for Tribal harvest."[16] Because negotiations between tribes and the state failed
to resolve the issue, the implementation phase of the case will be heard in federal district court in
October. While this case is rooted in the treaty-reserved rights of Northwest tribes, it is not just a tribal
concern. Pacific salmon are perhaps the most iconic as well as economically and culturally important
species in the Pacific Northwest. They are also a strong indicator of the damage done to the
environment. The tribal struggle for treaty rights is a cornerstone of the struggle to save salmon and
rebuild the ecosystems damaged by more than one-hundred-fifty years of shortsighted behavior.
1AC History Lesson
From the moment of the United State’s colonization of the new world, the federal
government has actively worked to violently control and assimilate the Makah people
Miller ’11 (Jordan, Board of Regents of the University of Oklahoma University of Oklahoma College of
Law, “Exercising Cultural Self-Determination: The Makah Indian Tribe Goes Whaling”, wcp)
D. Federal Cultural Oppression and Assimilation The Anglo/American view of property, culture and
religion differs radically from Native American viewpoints. Not surprisingly, the culture of the United
States clashed with the Makah culture.181 In fact, the Makah suffered through overt cultural oppression
under the guise of the various federal Indian policies adopted by the United States and through other
policies.
In the first instance, the extent of the Makah territory and sovereign rights were limited under
its treaty with the United States.182 Second, under the federal policy of assimilation, the Makah
suffered an active and direct campaign to destroy their culture, religion, families, and government
because those were the goals of the United States in the allotment and assimilation era.183 Finally, the
Makah suffered specific actions by the federal Indian agents located at the Neah Bay Agency on the
Makah Reservation to destroy the Makah language, families, culture and traditions.184 These types of
federal actions were a serious and common problem throughout Indian country because only in the
1930s and even up to the 1950s did the federal government and the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) rescind regulations prohibiting reservation Indians, who supposedly were living on their own lands,
from wearing long hair, performing their religious ceremonies, and living their own lives.185 And it was
well into the 1950s before the government stopped trying to eradicate Indian languages.186 In essence,
the federal government did not act like Indian tribes were living on their own lands and according to
their own cultures and religions. Instead, the United States acted more as if Indians were in prisons
where the government could control every aspect of their lives.187 1. Cultural and Religious
Oppression For over one hundred years, the federal government purposely tried to alter every aspect of
Makah culture. The ultimate goal of the United States "was the complete assimilation of the ... Makahs
into American society in as short a time as possible."188 The government wanted to transform the
Makah culture and substitute its way of life with the American culture. The reports of the
Commissioners of Indian Affairs demonstrated that the "official policy . . . [of] ruthless benevolence"
was designed to extinguish the "Indianness" of all Indians and teach them "civilized" ways.189 As an
example, notwithstanding Governor Stevens' promise to assist the Makah in their whaling and fishing
economy, federal pressure was placed on the Makah to become farmers.190 The federal government
tried to "civilize" the Makah Tribe by taking its culture, its religion, and its traditions.191 In a concerted
and calculated strategy the federal agents stationed at the Neah Bay Indian Agency tried to wipe out the
Makah language, and tried to withdraw the children from their culture and families and raise them as
"white" children.192 The federal agents worked to completely change even the most basic parts of
Makah life. The agents discouraged the longhouse style of communal living and helped Makahs build
single family homes and tear down the remaining longhouses.193 Agents would visit Makahs in their
homes to observe and to correct perceived deficiencies, such as encouraging the Makah to dress like
white citizens.194 The federal agents tried to control every single aspect of Makah life, outlawing tribal
games and dances and setting standards for Makah sexual life, and punishing any violators.195
Furthermore, the American legal system, with courts, judges and police, was imposed on the Tribe.196
The federal agents even interfered with the Tribe's internal class and governmental system by selecting
the men who would serve as chiefs.197 The agents also tried to alter Makah ownership rights regarding
coastal and ocean fishing sites.198 Even the Makah traditional healing methods were banned by the
agents and Makah doctors were threatened with imprisonment.199
The government suppressed other
cultural activities, such as the traditional Cloqually dances, because the agents considered them
"heathenish and barbarous."200 The government even tried to end the tribal tradition of potlatching.
The Indian agents tried to stop this activity because they thought it was not a good tradition.201
"Activities of a ceremonial or ritual nature were discouraged or prohibited. . . . Potlatches, gambling
games, the performance of Indian dances were usually forbidden. The ceremonies of the secret and
societies were religious curing banned
State in the 1880s, the United States made a special attempt In
Washington
to civilize Indians by "banning traditional native practices" and public gatherings, including
dancing, gambling, and spiritual activities, and by requiring reservation Indians to carry identification
cards.203 The Makah resisted the denial of their political, religious, and First Amendment rights by going
underground with some potlatch and cultural and spiritual traditions or by reorganizing their traditional
ceremonies around American holidays like Christmas, birthday parties, and Independence Day or by
incorporating them into Christian practices.204 The Makah also resisted this oppression by traveling to
Tatoosh Island, just off the tip of Cape Flattery, to hold ceremonies notwithstanding the threats of
imprisonment.205 2. Attacks on Makah Families The United States agents at the Makah Reservation
"concentrated their efforts on isolating the children from contact with tribal life and on indoctrinating
them with American culture."206 The government literally tried to destroy Makah family life as part of
its attempt to alter Makah culture and assimilate them into white society.207 The federal agents at
Neah Bay wanted to segregate tribal members over fifty-five from the rest of the families because the
agents thought that younger Indians would never learn civilized ways if they were being influenced and
taught by their elders.208 At school, children were punished for speaking the Makah language and were
taught to ridicule and to be ashamed of their own families, culture, and language.209 Boarding schools
were used at Makah from roughly 1870-1940 the same as in the rest of Indian country to teach Indian
children civilized ways and to eradicate Indian culture.210Makah families were forced to send their
children to the boarding school at Neah Bay or the parents would be arrested.211 The mandatory
schooling at Neah Bay is the main reason why some of the other Makah villages came to be abandoned
because families wanted to be near their children at school.212 In addition, in 1874, the Makah
boarding school was purposely moved and located further away from the nearest village to stop any
home influence of Makah culture on the children and to take the children "entirely out of barbarous
surroundings and put them in the midst of a civilized Christian home."213 Makah children were then
forced to attend school from seven to fourteen years of age, and the schools were usually conducted
year round with only a few hours a week at home.214 "Where possible, [children] were prevented from
acquiring the culture of their elders."215 The children were dressed in American clothing, taught the
English language and American games, and forced to accept the Christian religion.216 This deliberate
attack on Makah family life succeeded in weakening Makah culture because it alienated these
generations of Makah children to some extent from their culture and families.217 Oppression of Makah
Government The Makah developed an organized political system based on their cultural and religious
beliefs which differed from the United States system of government.218 As demonstrated by the chiefs
who represented each village at the 1855 treaty negotiation, the Tribe had its own political organization
and structure which represented its people. Starting with Governor Stevens "selection" of a head chief
for the Makah, the federal government controlled and directed the Makah government for over a
century.219 The Indian agents at Neah Bay treated the Makah like children.220 The federal Indian
Agency at Neah Bay operated as the de facto Makah tribal government from 1863 1930, when the tribe
adopted a new form of federally encouraged tribal government and ostensibly started governing
itself.221As of 1942, however, it was one observer's opinion that the Tribe was still not in control of its
own affairs, even though the federal agents at Neah Bay were gone and the Tribe had an elected tribal
council, because it was still completely controlled by BIA agents.222 Notwithstanding this history, the
Makah have taken advantage of the modern era of federal Indian policy and the latitude the federal
government has granted to tribal governments to really begin governing their territory and citizens.
Today, the Makah operate a fully functioning government with control over their reservation.
This cycle of ethnocentric backlash began in the 1700’s – when Vitus Bering and James
Cook were first introduced to the Makah. The Makah’s ability to whale and trade with
Europe stood as a symbol of its’ autonomy, and overall ability to resist cultural
assimilation. This symbiotic relationship ended when animal rights activists
suppressed the rich indigenous culture of the Makah under the guise of “whale
protection” under false legal pretenses while simultaneously ignoring
commercialization’s devastating effects on the whale population. Yet, the Makah’s
indigenous environmental spirituality still offers a cultural alternative to
environmental managerialism and colonial systems of thought.
The Pluralism Project ‘6 (The Harvard University, “Makah Whaling, WA (Makah) (2006),
http://pluralism.org/reports/view/131, wcp)
When explorers, Vitus Bering and James Cook were first introduced to the Makah community in the late
18th century, they immediately recognized its potential as an extremely lucrative trading partner. The
Makah are avid fishermen and whalers and the Europeans began trading copper for whale oil and bone
as soon as they came into contact. For these explorers, the Makah were an incredible and valued
resource, one whose goods they traded with nations as powerful and distant as Russia and China. This
interaction was also beneficial for the Makah, for whom whaling had been a central cultural practice as
long as the community had existed, who used the trade to protect the land they inhabited from
European settlement and to protect the political authority of their community. Whaling was the very
first point of negotiation between European colonizers and the Makah, one commemorated in the
original Treaty of Neah Bay, written and signed in 1885. It is entirely appropriate that the Makah be
distinguished in the United States' jurisprudence by their ability to whale, for indeed, much of the
community's cultural and spiritual coherence comes from the long tradition of whaling. From both oral
and archeological evidence, it is clear that the Makah have been hunting whales for at least 2,000 years.
As the Makah community website puts it, "More than anything else, whaling represents the spiritual and
technological preparedness of the Makah people and the wealth of culture." For whaling, as many
sacred practices of Native communities, is significant in many ways at once. Whales, for instance, are
physically sustentative for the Makah. One whale can feed an entire village, not only for one
community-wide feast or potlach, but for many weeks. Furthermore, the Makah use the oil for burning,
bone for tools and carving, sinew and gut for storage. The practice of hunting, slaughtering, and
preparing whales for these purposes are also spiritually sustaining. Men going on hunts prepare for
years, ensuring that they are physically and spiritually purified. The fasting, training, bathing, and prayer
involved in this preparation have been carried on even in recent years, embodying a traditional
continuity between the past and present. In the early 1900's the Makah community gradually stopped
whaling. There are many explanations for this, most of them having to do with increasing poverty and a
subsequent focus on physical survival and thus a decreasing interest in “religious” rituals, the frequent
and often unlawful discouragement by the U.S. government, and the rapid decline in whale populations
in the Neah Bay area owing to American, European, and Japanese commercial whaling. The latter
reason, the population loss, led the U.S. to help establish the IWC (International Whaling Commission) to
regulate global, commercial whaling, and to put the Grey Whale on the Endangered Species List in 1969.
The Makah did not hunt while the Grey Whale was classified this way, despite their theoretical legal
ability to do so, as specified in the Fish and Wildlife Service Secretarial Order #3206 sections 3c and 4.
When, in 1994, the Grey Whale was taken off the Endangered Species list, because of a very healthy
recovery of the population to nearly 30,000, the Makah tribe notified government authorities of their
interest and intention in resuming traditional whale hunts. The decision to resume the practice of this
tradition was a major, positive step for the Makah community, which had, for many years, been
suffering from poverty, unemployment, and cultural dislocation. Not only did it connect Makah youth,
who had never personally experienced a whale hunt, to the elders, who were the last living links to this
central cultural and spiritual event, but it became a ideologically defining issue for the community.
Again, the tradition of whaling would be a central aspect of survival for the Makah. For, whereas whaling
had originally been a practice which demonstrated the community's determination to survive physically,
it was now a practice which demonstrated its determination to maintain the right to cultural and
religious autonomy. In both cases communal identity and survival were clearly at stake. In this sense, the
resumption of this ancient tradition is explained by the necessity of the community to respond to
threats to the independence and distinctiveness of their way of life. Current Legal Battle The tribe,
working in conjunction with the US government and the political organizations which regulate
international whaling, primarily the IWC, drafted a management plan to ensure that the whaling that
would take place be completely legal. The primary grounds upon which the collective parties established
this legal claim to hunt was not based on the Treaty of Neah Bay, but on provisions in the IWC and
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) policy designed to allow an "aboriginal
subsistence" quota of whales to be taken by the tribe. The quota established for the Makah is shared
with the Chukotka natives of far eastern Russia. The Makah were granted 4 gray whales per year, and
the Chukotka, 120. The quota was granted to the tribes in conjunction because the tribes are hunting
from the same stock. By conforming to these policy changes, the Makah willingly revised many of the
very central features of the traditional hunt, including where they could hunt, how many "strikes"
(defined as successful or unsuccessful strikes of whales by the hunters' harpoons) they were allowed,
the role of the captain of the whale hunt, and many others. These were all provisions established
because of the decline of the grey whale population, which had nothing to do with traditional Makah
hunting. In 1999, after receiving approval from the United States government and the IWC, the Makah
had its first whale hunt in decades. Robert Sullivan, a journalist, recorded the event in his popular book,
A Whale Hunt. Sullivan's work documented not only the disciplined work of the crew to prepare
themselves properly, according to both traditional and contemporary judicial codes, but also the
immense, highly controversial, and very aggressive opposition mounted against the Makah's hunt by
animal rights organizations. The Opposition Since the beginning of the 1999 hunt, opposition to the
Makah tradition has been led by animal rights groups like the the Sea Shepard, the Humane Society of
the United States, the Cetacean Society International and the West Coast Anti-Whaling Society. As quite
diligently outlined by the National Council for Science and the Environment, the specific reasons for
opposition are typically centered around the idea that whales are more highly intelligent mammals and
thus ought not be killed, that the Makah seek to profit from whaling, that allowing the Makah to hunt
has set a legal precedent that might allow countries like Japan and Norway to pursue the right to hunt
Grey Whales commercially, that the Makah, because of their temporary hiatus from whaling have lost
the right to hunt specified in the Treaty of Neah Bay, or that because the IWC has not sanctioned the
hunt specifically, that the hunt is illegal. As the NCSE article elaborates, many of these arguments are
either legally unfounded, or represent extra-legal concerns. Generally speaking, none of the opposition
groups express understanding of the culturally central role whaling has in the Makah community or
even attempt to see the issue through the lens of religious freedom. Furthermore, their complaints
that the Makah community is threatening the environmental integrity of the area do not mention the
costly efforts of that community to research declining deer and elk populations, to remove a dam
harmful to local fish, to invest in alternative 'wave energy', to work against toxins in local water, or to
restore lagging salmon populations, all of which have been initiated in the last two years. The limited
perspective of these groups, so absolutely focused on the well-being of the whales, is not one adopted
by more major environmental organizations like Sierra Club and the Wilderness Society, neither of which
has opposed the Makah whale hunt. The Future of the Hunt In July 2004 the 9th District Court of
Appeals upheld the Makah treaty rights to take whales, however the court ruled with plaintiffs
(organizations like the Humane Society, the Cetacean Society, and the West-Coast Anti-Whaling society)
by agreeing that the Environmental Assessment prepared by the Makah and the United States
government in 1994, after the California Grey Whale had been taken off the Endangered Species list, did
not take into account some more subtle threats the Makah hunt could have on the Grey Whale
population. Specifically, the suit claims that the whales in Neah Bay are a sub-grouping of the larger,
migrating Grey Whale population. It is unknown how this sub-group is established and how or if it is
refilled by whales of the migrating population, if its members are lost. The judge in the case, though he
admitted that there was significant evidence suggesting that the Neah Bay group is indeed refreshed by
the larger population, maintained that the Environmental Assessment did not take into account this and
other details. The ruling invalidates the original EA and creates an injunction against further Makah
hunting until a new Environmental Assessment can be drafted. Beyond this, the Makah must also
reapply for an exemption from the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) drafted in 1972 in an effort
to curb the disastrous effects of over-fishing around the United States. The Makah and the United States
argued in the 2004 decision that they were already exempted from the restrictions on hunting in the
act, because of sub-section 1372(a)(2), which states that parties whose right to hunt is protected when
it is "expressly provided for by an international treaty [established]...before the effective date [of the
MMPA]." And though the Makah do have an agreement with the IWC and the US government that
grants them a 4 whale per two year quota, it does not pre-date the MMPA. In February 2005, the Makah
applied for an exemption from MMPA, which the NOAA's National Marine Fisheries Service is at the
currently reviewing at the time of this updating (Summer, 2006), in conjunction with a reissued
Environmental Impact Survey, and will begin a formal rule making process. The Makah could also, but
have not yet, argued that the 1885 Treaty of Neah Bay fulfilled the MMPA's exemption, largely because
of the rather troublesome latter half of the most relevant clause in that treaty: "The right of taking fish
and of whaling or sealing at usual and accustomed grounds and stations is further secured to said
Indians in common with all citizens of the United States." Since all citizens of the United States do not,
currently, have the right to receive this kind of exemption from the MMPA, neither do the Makah,
strictly speaking. This case demonstrates the absence of and need for consideration of tribal cultural
preservation in a wide range of U.S. federal policy governing issues from treaty rights to the
stewardship of the nation's environmental resources. It also demonstrates that though U.S.
environmental policy can often be used as an umbrella of protection for tribal claims it remains a rather
problematic protection. And finally, it is a clear example of cultural and political autonomy lost to a
community once it has ceased to be an economic beneficiary of the United States government.
The story of the Makah is but one of a larger history of a cultural imposition on the
indigenous peoples of America. For over 1500 years, the Makah depended on the
ocean as a source of sustenance, and whaling was integral to their cultural connection
to the ocean. Whaling was much more than a hobby, it represented a religious
unification of the tribe and a way of life itself. Using treaties and legal rulings as a tool
of conquest, the United States was able to dictate by legislative fiat the totality of
Makah Affairs
Stevens ’12 (Jeremy, American Indian Law Journal, “Of Whaling, Judicial Fiats, Treaties and Indians: The
Makah Saga Continues”, wcp)
“[O]ur treatment of Indians, even more than our treatment of other minorities, reflects the rise and fall
in our democratic faith. Here, as in other parts of the world, the undermining of that faith begins with
the glorification of ‘expert administrators’ whose power-drives are always accompanied by soft music
about ‘the withering away of the state’ or the ultimate ‘liquidation’ of this or that bureau.”3 At the
northwestern-most corner of the continental United States, on a 27,000 square acre reservation, reside
the Makah.4 Currently the only group of the Nuu-chah- nulth people within the realm of the United
States of America,5 the Makah once exerted dominion over a territory that consisted of all “that portion
of the extreme northwest part of Washington Territory . . . between Flattery Rocks on the Pacific coast,
fifteen miles south from Cape Flattery, and the Hoko [R]iver . . . eastward from the cape on the Strait of
[Juan de] Fuca.”6 The Makah also claimed Tatoosh Island, and indeed still today retain Tatoosh Island
and the cluster of land masses which the appellation has come to represent.7 But the whole of the
Makah ancestral lands “is of a mountainous character, and is the termination of the Olympic range,
[covered with] an almost impenetrable forest.”8 The inhospitable climate–the winds, the rains, the
rocky crags, the clay dirt and sandstone, and the occasional boulder of granite–is not suitable for
cultivation. Owing to the terrain and the climate, the Makah engaged in very limited amounts of
agriculture, cultivating potatoes “at a hill on Flattery rocks”9 and picking berries, naturally resident to
the terrain. It is thus not difficult to understand that the Makah were primarily “a seafaring people who
spent their lives either on the water or close to the shore;”10 sprinkled with the occasional tuber, nut,
berry or sea fowl, most of the Makah “subsistence came from the sea where they fished for salmon,
halibut and other fish, and hunted for whale and seal.”11 But paramount to the Makah of all the fecund
ocean’s largesse was the California Gray Whale.12 As the Makah themselves assert, whale hunting is the
“symbolic heart” of their culture.13 And the Makah have been hunting whales for 1,500 years.14
Makah religion in fact instructs that Thunderbird, a “flying wolflike god, delivered a whale to their
shores to save them from starvation.”15 For at least 3,000 years since, the “gray whales have been
sacred icons in the petroglyphs, jewelry, art, carvings, songs, and dances”16 of the Makah. Whaling has
not only been a source of subsistence to the Makah as they have learned to survive–thrive, even, before
westward expansion squeezed them onto their current reservation–atop their clump of clay, rock, and
dirt–whaling has been “an expression of religious faith and community cohesion.”17 Nowhere else is
this reverence, this sense of cultural inter-dependence, more illustrated than in the Treaty of Neah
Bay.18 The Treaty of Neah Bay is the constitutionally binding source of federal plenary authority and
dominion over the Makah Indians–the exercise of the Indian Commerce clause which grants the
congressional right to dictate by legislative fiat the totality of Makah affairs. Effectuated in 1855, it is but
one of the “eleven different treaties, each with several different tribes”19 produced by Governor Isaac
Stevens.20 Congress’ chosen method of opening up vast swaths of Pacific Northwest land for white
westward expansion was through the negotiation of treaties, as an instrument of conquest.21 And to
clear the way for white settlement onto Indian lands, to accommodate the increasing flow of American
settlers pouring into the lowlands of Puget Sound and the river valleys north of the Columbia River,
Governor Isaac Stevens was tasked with inducing the Indians of the area to move “voluntarily”22 onto
reservations. Indeed, Governor Stevens was well-suited for the undertaking. He recognized in the Makah
not much concern for their land (save for their village, burial sites, and other sundry locations), but
recognized great concern for “their marine hunting and fishing rights.”23 The Governor therefore
reassured the Makah that the United States government did not “intend to stop them from marine
hunting and fishing but in fact would help them to develop these pursuits.” 24 But Governor Stevens did
not speak the Makah’s language, nor did the Makah representatives speak English. Instead, the Treaty of
Neah Bay was negotiated in English and an interpreter translated English into “Chinook Jargon” which
then a member of the Clallum Tribe translated into Makah: English into Chinook into Makah, and
back.25 Nevertheless, Governor Stevens was sufficiently intuitive and well enough informed to
recognize the primacy of the whale in Makah culture; indeed, the man “promised United States
assistance in securing a treaty-based right for the Makah to whale and promot[e] Makah whaling”26
because, in his own words, "[t]he Great Father knows what whalers you are.”27 Much of the official
record of the treaty negotiations thus deals with securing the right to whale; and as consideration for
that treaty-reserved right, the Makah ceded 91% of their land–a full 300,000 square acres–and retained
only a 27,000 square acre wind-swept, crag-ridden, “mountainous, forest-covered region, with no arable
land except the low swamp and marsh.”28 The Makah were not interested in becoming tillers of soil or
hunters of the elk, deer and bear which dwelt among them. Yes, the Makah grew their potatoes and
gathered berries when the season was proper, but no culture can survive on tubers and berries alone; a
people requires “animal food, and [the Makah] prefer[red] the products of the ocean to the farina of the
land.”29 As a testament to the importance of the whale to every aspect of Makah culture and as an
illustration of the extent to which the act of whaling was more important to the Makah than it was to
any other tribe with which the Government negotiated a treaty, the Treaty of Neah Bay is the only
United States- Indian treaty which secures for the Indians the express right to whale: the “right of taking
fish and of whaling or sealing at usual and accustomed grounds and stations is further secured to said
Indians in common30 with all citizens of the United States.”31 But in Anderson v. Evans,32 the Ninth
Circuit abrogated that right, and did so through applying an eminently improper analytical framework
of its own making.33 Part I of this article will chart the unhappy sequence of events leading up to the
Anderson decision as the Makah sought–and continue to seek today–to re-establish their longcustomary and treaty-reserved practice of whaling. Next, this article will consider the canons of United
States-Indian treaty interpretation relevant to the Anderson court’s failings. Included in this proposition
is identifying the source of federal power over Indians, identifying the source of state power over
Indians, and identifying what are referred to as the state conservation necessity test and the federal
weight and consideration test. As each appellation suggests, the former is used to assess the effects a
state’s regulation imposes upon an Indian treaty-reserved right while the latter is used to assess the
effects a federal regulation imposes upon an Indian treaty- reserved right. This article will then address
in Part III why the Anderson decision was incorrectly decided and in conclusion, this article will present
the current state of the Makah’s efforts to resume their treaty-reserved right of “whaling or sealing at
usual and accustomed grounds and stations”34 in exercise of their treaty right to do so.
1AC Native Persepctive
van Ginkel 04—University of Amsterdam (Robert, 2004, ETNOFOOR, XVII(1/2), pp. 58-89, “The Makah
Whale Hunt and Leviathan’s Death: Reinventing Tradition and Disputing Authenticity in the Age of
Modernity”, rmf)
The Makah Tribal Council countered the environmentalists’ attacks that ‘our opponents would have us
abandon this [whaling] part of our culture and restrict it to a museum. To us this means a dead
culture.We are trying to maintain a living culture. We can only hope that those whose opposition is most
vicious will be able to recognize their ethnocentrism – subordinating our culture to theirs’ (quoted in
Erikson 1999:574; also see Sullivan 2000:23). It proved vain hope. Keith Johnson, President of the Makah
WhalingCommission, simply called the environmentalists’ arguments‘moral elitism’.27 He further
commented: ‘If we wanted to abandon all cultural tradition, we would simply use a deck-mounted
cannon firing a harpoon into the whale. No, our canoe has been carved by traditional carvers and will be
paddled by eight whalers who have sanctified themselves by rituals that are ancient and holy to us. The
hunt is being conducted in a manner that is both traditional and modern.’28 Whaling captain Wayne
Johnson said: ‘I am so tired of non-Indians pushing their values on the Makah people and telling us how
and how not to be Makah.’29 A tribe member told a news reporter: ‘The whole thing brought the tribe
together. : : : We view this as having cultural significance and is in a way part of religious freedom.
People who don’t understand us call us savages. I call them extreme missionary zealots.’30 The Makah
received heaps of hate mail, harassments in restaurants and on ferries, and even death threats. Internet
forums regularly carried vehement anti-Makah or anti-Indian postings, equating the Indians with
drunken welfare cheats. Local and regional newspapers (for instance the Peninsula Daily News, the
Seattle Times, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer) and radio and TV stations were deluged with letters, phone
calls, e-mails and faxes generally opposing the hunt. There was talk of the ‘Makah’s vicious, sick
behavior’, the ‘senseless massacre of a beautiful, peaceful creature’, the ‘cold-blooded murder of a
magnificent, gentle and trusting animal’, ‘barbaric activity’, ‘carnage’, ‘horrible ordeal’, ‘a thoroughly
arcane and disgusting tradition’ or simply ‘evil’. Someone referred to the ‘Makah whale killing
atrocities’.31 Many messages were laced with hateful, ethnocentric or racist remarks (Erikson
1999:560). A man wanted to apply for ‘a license to kill Indians’ so that he could restore his forefathers’
tradition (ibid.:563). The discourse had turned ugly. Bumper stickers with the slogan ‘Save a Whale, Kill
an Indian’ became popular. One protestor carried a banner reading ‘Save a Whale, Harpoon a Makah!’
Whilst under siege of anti-whalers, a Makah carried a sign with the text ‘Go Home Eco-Colonialists.’
Responding to the commotion after the successful hunt, tribal council Chairman Ben Johnson said: ‘We
recognize that because of differences in cultural values and knowledge many people do not understand
our need to continue with the tradition of whale hunting, thus creating a conflict between them and the
Makah.’32
In the wake of the environmental and animal rights groups’ opinion, many remarks were made as
regards the validity of reviving tradition, especially in the days following the successful hunt. Some
dismissed it as ‘pure bunk,’ others made deriding comparisons. Someone said that ‘any culture that
regains its pride by killing is, at best, primitive’.33 Another wrote: ‘These peoples want to rekindle their
traditional way of life by killing an animal that has twice the mental capacity they have. These idiots
need to use what little brains they have to do something productive besides getting drunk and spending
federal funds to live on’ (quoted in Erikson 1999:563). In a letter to the editor of the Seattle Times, a
woman declared: ‘The white man used to kill Indians and give them smallpox-infected blankets. Is this a
tradition we should return to?’34 In the same newspaper, a couple stated ‘Natives were often referred
to as “savages,” and it seems little has changed’ (quoted in Dougherty 2001). ‘What does it matter if
tradition is killing indigenous people in the name of white culture or killing whales in the name of Makah
culture? The mind-set is the same, only the victims differ,’ wrote a woman to the Peninsula Daily
News.35 A reader of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer sent a letter to the editor, reading: ‘The excuse of
“tradition” does not justify this act. Not all “traditions” are appropriate behavior. It is sad that a once
proud group of people have lost so much heritage, pride and self-respect that they actually believe
killing an intelligent, warm-blooded creature will some how make them more “Indian.”’36 Another
reader volunteered the following: ‘If the Makah tribe wants to embrace their traditions, they should:
give up welfare, (they got whale blubber – who needs money?); give up modern medicine (they got a
tribal medicine man – forget the antibiotics and let him cure their tribe with chants!) and by all means,
cut off their electricity and running water. Traditionally, they did not have these luxuries 74
[sic]. Also, take those Nikes off those Makah kids and put them back in their traditional moccassins
[sic]!’37 ‘Many traditions become antiquated, irresponsible and outright wrong,’ a woman submitted.38
On radio talk shows, statements like ‘white people should renew their tradition of killing Indians’ could
be heard.39 Examples of traditions that should not be revitalized abounded, including cannibalism,
human sacrifice, widow burning, foot binding, genital mutilation, head hunting and scalping. A typical
example is from a letter to the editor of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, stating: ‘Indeed, an authentic
cultural revival would require the resurrection of inter-tribal warfare, slavery and the occasional human
sacrifice. So why do they insist on whaling, but not launching a return to these other practices that also
defined them as a people? : : : It’s no wonder the Makah still feel justified in considering whales their
property to sacrifice as they once did their slaves.’40
Colonialism O/Ws
Addressing colonialism comes before environmental ethics
Sciullo 08—Department of Communication at Georgia State University (Nick J., 10/13/08, New York City
Law Review, Vol. 12, “A Whale of a Tale: Postcolonialism, Critical Theory, and Deconstruction: Revisiting
the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling Through a Socio-Legal Perspective”, rmf)
Of particular interest are the environmental arguments against whaling,20 which, while often well
reasoned, do not carry the day when compared with the threat of post-colonialism and the evils
associated with that type of worldview. The cultural interests of certain groups are more persuasive
than the environmental perspectives in the whaling debate and the threats to cultural interests pose a
very real threat to the survival of peoples. Not because the humyn world is more worthy than the nonhumyn world,21 but because the more imminent threat to the world’s wellbeing is the powerful and
destructive force of imperialism and post-colonialism. This is not to say that the environmental
arguments do not make valid points or that preserving our environment ought not to be an important
consideration in our socio-legal discourse. On the contrary, environmentalism (and its permutations) has
been one of the most important movements of the last 30 years. Ultimately, the negative impacts of
imperialism and postcolonialism have resulted in a variety of ills that include but are not limited to
environmental destruction, war, and slavery. Without addressing these worldviews, environmental
agendas will go on met and environmental denigration will continue.
Nature/culture Binary Bad
The indigenous approach to Nature and Science is Distinct from Western Views, the
Western World Seperates Nature from Culture
Norman 09 – Dr. Emma Norman is an Assistant Professor of Geography at Michigan Technological
University's Department of Social Sciences and Environmental and Energy Policy Program working
closely with the Great Lakes Research Center (MTU) and the Program on Water Governance (at the
University of British Columbia). She is an environmental geographer interested in nature-society
relations, postcolonial studies, environmental and social justice, and the intersection between water
governance and the politics of scale.Dr. Norman was just named a Research Fellow with the
Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian This summer, she was a Whiteley Scholar in
residence at the University of Washington's Friday Harbor Labs, where she completed her thrid
manuscript, Governing Transboundary Waters: Canada, the United States, and Indigenous Communities
(Routledge, http://www.evergreen.edu/tribal/docs/normanluna.pdf)
However, members of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation have developed their own explanations
to describe the world they live in and their views of Luna the whale. Native American scholars Greg
Cajete, Daniel Wildcat & Vine DeLoria, Jr., and LeRoy Littlebear all speak to this issue – the notion that
Western science and policy is based on fundamentally different ideas of nature and science than those
outside a Western European tradition. Scholars such as Littlebear suggest that “nature” and “science”
are culturally relevant: “What is considered “science” is dependent on the culture/worldview/paradigm
of the definer” (Littlebear, 2000, p. ix). One of the fundamental differences between Western and nonWestern views of nature is the placement of humans within or outside nature. This is at the heart of the
issue with Luna, where the Mowachaht/Muchalaht view nature and culture within a singular frame.
Conversely, the Western worldview not only separates nature from culture, but often allows for human
domination of nature. Cajete, in his book Native Science notes, “Western science and society perpetuate
the illusion of “objective” detachment and psychological disassociation,” whereas “Native science
continually relates to and speaks of the world as full of active entities with which people engage (26-7).”
Thus, the Western tradition of science often plays humans outside of the “natural” system looking
down; conversely, in many Native traditions nature and culture are not separate entities, rather
relationships are both reflexive and collapsible – where human and animal forms are easily
interchanged. However, members of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation have developed their own
explanations to describe the world they live in and their views of Luna the whale. Native American
scholars Greg Cajete, Daniel Wildcat & Vine DeLoria, Jr., and LeRoy Littlebear all speak to this issue – the
notion that Western science and policy is based on fundamentally different ideas of nature and science
than those outside a Western European tradition. Scholars such as Littlebear suggest that “nature” and
“science” are culturally relevant: “What is considered “science” is dependent on the
culture/worldview/paradigm of the definer” (Littlebear, 2000, p. ix). One of the fundamental differences
between Western and non-Western views of nature is the placement of humans within or outside
nature. This is at the heart of the issue with Luna, where the Mowachaht/Muchalaht view nature and
culture within a singular frame. Conversely, the Western worldview not only separates nature from
culture, but often allows for human domination of nature. Cajete, in his book Native Science notes,
“Western science and society perpetuate the illusion of “objective” detachment and psychological
disassociation,” whereas “Native science continually relates to and speaks of the world as full of active
entities with which people engage (26-7).” Thus, the Western tradition of science often plays humans
outside of the “natural” system looking down; conversely, in many Native traditions nature and culture
are not separate entities, rather relationships are both reflexive and collapsible – where human and
animal forms are easily interchanged.
Native epistemology good
Native American culture is comparatively better at taking care of the environment
than any approach centered in Western knowledge.
Hester and Cheney 2001 (Lee and Jim, American Indian Studies, University of Science and Arts,
Oklahoma “Truth and Native American epistemology” SOCIAL EPISTEMOLOGY, 2001, VOL. 15, NO . 4,
319–334 accessed 7/7/14 .nt)
Making use of J. L. Austin's notion of the performative function of language, a ceremonial world (in the
fullest sense of the term) is an actively constructed portrait of the world intended lo he responsibly true,
one which rings true for everybody's well-being. It is a world built on the basis of an ethicalepistemological orientation of attentive ness (or, as Native Americans tend to put it, respect) rather than
an epistemology of control. Such ceremonial worlds, built, as they are, around the notion of responsible
truth, are not developed piecemeal, but are synthetic creations, adjusted holistically to all the concerns
that arise from a focus on responsible truth: they must tie down to the world of everyday practice and
experience in a way that makes it possible to survive; they must orient the community and its individuals
on roads of life that allow for the flourishing of all members of the community as far as that is possible.
The metaphysics or ontology of such a world will not be understood as true in the modern sense of the
term. The Issue Is always (if implicitly) whether it is responsibly, or correctly, true; Is it action guiding in
the full sense just delineated? In this full sense of the term, ceremonial worlds exist, so far as my
experience goes, only in indigenous cultures. All of us live within ceremonial worlds in some sense,
however, though nonindigenous ceremonial worlds tend to lie diminished worlds. The ceremonial
worlds of the West, for example, are diminished in the sense that they are not intended to be
responsibly true worlds, ones that ring true for everybody's well-being. Nor are they worlds built on the
basis of an ethical* epistemological orientation of attentiveness (respect). Rather, these worlds pretend
to be value-neutral 'true* accounts of how the world really is. The so-called value-neutral project of
building a 'true' account of the way the world is is severed from the project of creating a world in which
humans can and do flourish. Moreover, these worlds tend to be built in accordance with epistemologies
of domination and control; and it is within these worlds that we propose ethical theories and projects to
outlier domination and control. This peculiar and unfortunate situation arises because we do not see
that our world-building projects are themselves founded (though implicitly) on epistemological
foundations that all but guarantee that the explicitly ethical projects we set ourselves within these
worlds will fail.
Indigenous epistemology is founded on an ethic of respect to the world.
Hester and Cheney 2001 (Lee and Jim, American Indian Studies, University of Science and Arts,
Oklahoma “Truth and Native American epistemology” SOCIAL EPISTEMOLOGY, 2001, VOL. 15, NO . 4,
319–334 accessed 7/7/14 .nt)
The question 'How important is truth to knowledge and epistemology?^—the question posed in the call
for papers for this issue of Social Epistemology—has been a central concern in my work in
environmental ethics and Native American philosophy. My reflections on this and related questions
came to a focus in my work on the linked notions of 'ceremonial worlds' and narrative, which I began to
think about while listening to indigenous people in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory in 1995 and in Thunder
Bay, Ontario while working with the Native Philosophy Project during 1996-1997 (see Cheney and
Weston, 1999). Ceremonial worlds are the worlds (or stories) within which we live, the worlds (myths, if
you like) that have the power to orient us in life. They define for us the nature of the sacred (that in
which meaning is located, the more-than-human dimensions of our worlds), the natural and the human,
and the relationships between them. A starting place for me in developing the notion of a ceremonial
world was Louise Profeit-LeBlanc's explication of the Northern Tutchone term in an oh in response to a
question posed to her concerning whether the stories she used in her work with at risk children were
'true'. In response, she used the term tti an oh (usually glossed as 'what they say, it's true') and defined
it as meaning 'correctly true', 'responsibly true' (a 'responsible truth'), 'true to what you believe in',
'what is good for you and the community' and 'rings true for everybody s well-being. Aside from the
question of whether there is a concept of truth simplicity in Northern Tutchone or only the concept of a
responsible truth (and, presumably, its correlate: the concept of an irresponsible truth), the an oh does
at least suggest a way of stepping beyond the 'defeat and confusion' Nelson Goodman and Catherine
Elgin argue is built into the notions of truth and knowledge in contemporary Western philosophy.5
Making use of J. L. Austin's notion of the performative function of language, a ceremonial world (in the
fullest sense of the term) is an actively constructed portrait of the world intended to be responsibly true,
one which rings true for everybody's well-being. It is a world built on the basis of an ethicalepistemological orientation of attentiveness (or, as Native Americans tend to put it, respect) rather than
an epistemology of control. Such ceremonial worlds, built, as they are, around the notion of responsible
truth, are not developed piecemeal, but are synthetic creations, adjusted holistically to all the concerns
that arise from a focus on responsible truth: they must tie down to the world of everyday practise and
experience in a way that makes it possible to survive; they must orient the community and its individuals
on roads of life that allow for the flourishing of all members of the community as far as that is possible.
The metaphysics or ontology of such a world will not be understood as true in the modern sense of the
term. The issue is always (if implicitly) whether it is responsibly, or correctly, true; is it action guiding in
the full sense just delineated? In this full sense of the term, ceremonial worlds exist, so far as my
experience goes, only in indigenous cultures. All of us live within ceremonial worlds in some sense,
however, though nonindigenous ceremonial worlds tend to be diminished worlds. The ceremonial
worlds of the West, for example, are diminished in the sense that they are not intended to be
responsibly true worlds, ones that ring true for everybody's well-being. Nor are they worlds built on the
basis of an ethical-epistemological orientation of attentiveness (respect). Rather, these worlds pretend
to be value-neutral 'true' accounts of how the world reallv is. The so-called value-neutral project of
building a 'true' account of the way the world is is severed from the project of creating a world in which
humans can and do flourish. Moreover, these worlds tend to be built in accordance with epistemologies
of domination and control; and it is within these worlds that we propose ethical theories and projects to
counter domination and control. This peculiar and unfortunate situation arises because we do not see
that our world-building projects are themselves founded (though implicitly) on epistemological
foundations that all but guarantee that the explicitly ethical projects we set ourselves within these
worlds will fail. In a series of articles, Vine Deloria, Jr has given us a portrait of epistemological
relationships within the world of the 'old Indians, people who had known the life of freedom before they
were confined to the reservations and subjected to Western religious and educational systems' that
resonates remarkably with the notion of ceremonial worlds and takes it a significant step further. 'The
real interest of the old Indians', Deloria says, 'was not to find the abstract structure of physical reality
but rather to find the proper road along which, for the duration of a person's life, individuals were
supposed to walk' (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 46). This is key to understanding Native American
epistemology: It is ethically informed; any 'truths' that emerge in Native American worlds are
'responsible truths', in Louise Profeit-LeBlanc's sense of the term. 'Lacking a spiritual, social, or political
dimension [in their scientific practise]', Deloria says, 'it is difficult to understand why Western peoples
believe they are so clever. Any damn fool can treat a living thing as if it were a machine and establish
conditions under which it is required to perform certain functions—all that is required is a sufficient
application of brute force. The result of brute force is slavery' (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 13). 'Science forces
secrets from nature by experimentation, and the results of the experiments are thought to be
knowledge. The traditional peoples accepted secrets from the rest of creation' (Deloria et at., 1999, p.
135). Lacking an ethical dimension, the epistemology of Western scientific method produces something
that can be called 'knowledge' only in an attenuated sense: 'We may elicit and force secrets from
nature, but it is only answering the specific questions we ask it. It is not giving us the whole story as it
would if it were specifically involved in the communication of knowledge' (Deloria et «/., 1999, p. 136).
Another, related, key to understanding Native American epistemology is its attitude with respect to
anomalies—data or experiences that do not seem to fit into the patterns that have so far emerged in
one's observations of nature. Within the life history of maturity one can be said to travel from
information to knowledge to wisdom. Organisms gather information, and as the cumulative amount
begins to achieve a critical mass, patterns of interpretation and explanation begin to appear—even
thoughts seem to form themselves into societies at a certain level of complexity. Here it is that Western
science prematurely derives its scientific 'laws' and assumes that the products of its own mind are
inherent in the structure of the universe. But American Indians allow the process to continue,
recognizing that premature analysis will produce anomalies and give incomplete understanding. (Deloria
etai, 1999, p. 14). At the point where 'patterns of interpretation and explanation' begin to emerge, the
epistemological methods of Western science and Native American epistemological methods part ways.
As Lee's story puts it, in Western science (and philosophy) belief enters the picture ('Western science
prematurely derives its scientific "laws" and assumes that the products of its own mind are inherent in
the structure of the universe') and the map is taken as a true account of the territory, the map is
mistaken for the territory. For the Native American, both the map and the territory are real, but the map
is not (is not understood as a true picture of) the territory. The Western understanding of'true belief is
absent in Native American epistemology. As Deloria puts it in another context, 'it is important to note
that [Indians] are dealing with recognitions, not beliefs that have an intellectual content; and
recognitions, like perceptions, involve the totality of personality' (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 362). Native
Americans do not get stuck as Western thought does: 'An old chief of the Crow tribe from Montana was
asked to describe the difference between his tribe and the whites who lived nearby. Pausing slightly and
drawing his conclusions, he remarked that the white man has ideas [beliefs], the Indian has visions'
(Deloria et al., 1999, p. 15). Beliefs concern the map and mistake it for the territory; visions are
integrating experiences at the core of ceremonial worlds that orient Native Americans culturally,
spiritually, psychologically, politically, and in matters of subsistence and use of technology. 'Because
Western science concentrates so heavily on information and theory, its product is youth, not maturity'
(Deloria et al., 1999, p. 15). There is a continuity in the maturation of Native American understanding
from information to knowledge to maturity.
Indigenous epistemology is value driven, and a respect and openness to all beings is at
the center of that value system.
Hester and Cheney 2001 (Lee and Jim, American Indian Studies, University of Science and Arts,
Oklahoma “Truth and Native American epistemology” SOCIAL EPISTEMOLOGY, 2001, VOL. 15, NO . 4,
319–334 accessed 7/7/14 .nt)
To use a phrase of Deloria's, we might call the idea that 'In formulating their understanding of the world,
Indians did not discard any experience. Everything had to be included in the spectrum of knowledge and
related to what was already known' a 'principle of epistemological method'. Another principle of
epistemological method appears, Deloria says, at the end of Black Elk's telling of how the Sioux received
the sacred pipe from White Buffalo Calf Woman and how she taught the people to communicate with
the higher powers through the use of the pipe in ceremonies: 'This they tell', Black Elk said, 'and
whether it happened so or not, I do not know; but if you think about it, you can see that it is true'.
Deloria explicitly calls this statement 'a principle of epistemological method' (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 44).
The idea here is more complex than the first principle. As I read it, this second principle points to two
ideas: that the account of Buffalo Calf Woman is not necessarily to be understood in literalist, historical
terms; the account is to be understood as a depiction of one element of the ceremonial world within
which the Oglala Lakota live and that we must always consider (over the course of our entire lives) the
ways (often multiple) that a particular story or experience might instruct us; stories and experience are
to be understood as having often inexhaustible depth. A third principle of epistemological principle (not
explicitly stated as such) is that 'Everything that humans experience has value and instructs us in some
aspect of life' (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 45).1U These three, closely-related principles might be contrasted
with a more critical epistemological method that focuses on refutation and critical objection as the way
to truth. In this epistemological style, for example, one might object that the second principle would
certainly lead one astray and that the third principle is simply false (or, at least, has not been shown to
be true). It should be noted, however, that to shift the burden of proof in this way does not so much
advance the cause of 'truth' as it shuts down modes of reflecting on experience and stories that may
very well lead to insight and knowledge and to 'responsible truth'. The point is similar to one Anthony
Weston makes concerning Tom Birch's principle of universal consideration in environmental ethics.
Birch says that his principle demands that all things 'be taken as valuable, even though we may not yet
know how or why, until they are proved otherwise' (Birch, 1993, p. 328). Weston comments: 'Actually,
even more deeply, universal consideration requires us not merely to extend this kind of benefit of the
doubt but actively to take up the case, so to speak, for beings so far excluded or devalued'. Weston then
adds, precisely in line with the Native American view that at the heart of one's epistemological relation
to the world there must be moral purpose, that 'ethics [a basic etiquette] is primary: ethics opens the
way to knowledge, epistemology is value-driven, not vice versa' (Cheney and Weston, 1999, p. 120). Or,
as Deloria himself puts it: In an epistemological sense, there is no question that the tribal method of
gathering information is more sophisticated and certainly more comprehensive than Western science. In
most tribal traditions, no data are discarded as unimportant or irrelevant. Indians consider their own
individual experiences, the accumulated wisdom of the community that has been gathered by previous
generations, their dreams, visions, and prophecies, and any information received from birds, animals,
and plants as data that must be arranged, evaluated, and understood as a unified body of knowledge.
This mixture of data from sources that the Western scientific world regards as highly unreliable and
suspect produces a consistent perspective on the natural world. It is seen by tribal peoples as having
wide application. Knowledge about plants and birds can form the basis of ethics, government, and
economics as well as provide a means of mapping a large area of land. (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 66-67)
This epistemological style of openness contrasts with the focus on extracting very specific pieces of
information, understood within an equally specific set of concepts, that characterizes the controlled
experiment of modern science. Deloria in fact contrasts Native American epistemology with Thomas
Kuhn's understanding of science as proceeding within paradigms and as being therefore highly selective
both in its attention to data and the problems on which it chooses to focus. Native American
epistemological style, as depicted by Deloria, is even more radical than I have so far indicated. The
principles of epistemological method so far mentioned are at least straightforwardly epistemological.
But Deloria goes further. Many statements coming from Native American worlds that non-Native
Americans would understand to be statements of belief (truth claims) concerning Native American
world views are best understood as principles of epistemological method of a rather different sort than
those so far mentioned. Consider, for example, Deloria's portrait of the universe as a moral universe:
The real interest of the old Indians was not to discover the abstract structure of physical reality but
rather to find the proper road along which, for the duration of a person's life, individuals were supposed
to walk. This colorful image of the road suggests that the universe is a moral universe. That is to say,
there is a proper way to live in the universe: There is content to every action, behavior, and belief. The
sum total of our life experiences has a reality. There is a direction to the universe, empirically
exemplified in the physical growth cycles of childhood, youth, and old age, with the corresponding
responsibility of every entity to enjoy life, fulfill itself, and increase in wisdom and the spiritual
development of personality. Nothing has incidental meaning and there are no coincidences ... In the
moral universe all activities, events, and entities are related, and consequently it does not matter what
kind of existence an entity enjoys, for the responsibility is always there for it to participate in the
continuing creation of reality. (Deloria et al., 1999, p. 46)
Western epistemology fails
Western approaches to sustainability and preservation inevitably fail because they are
rooted in ontology of fear. A relationship of mutual respect is key to resolve
environmental problems.
Zimmerman no date (Mary Jane Zimmerman, Ph.D currently teaches literature and honors classes at
Central New Mexico Community College in Albuquerque, NM. “Being Nature’s Mind: Indigenous Ways
of Knowing and Planetary Consciousness” http://www.delvingdeeper.org/pdfs/being.pdf accessed
7/25/14 .nt)
Thus he warns, at the outset, that Westerners often can’t hear the teachings of these boundary crossing
stories because they don’t know how to listen to them. All of these stories are about kinship. They are
about learning to look at the human from the perspective of Seal, Whale, or Fox. And as Martin reports,
people introduced themselves to him by saying, “I am Puffin,” or “I am Killer Whale,” not simply “I
belong to the clan of . . .” (34-37). This sense of kinship extended to experiences of mutual respect. He
notes that one woman was not afraid to go jogging on the back roads where bears were often
encountered because her late husband had been a Bear. The bears, therefore, protected her (37).
Another story tells of a great chief who was a Bear. When he died, a number of bears came out of the
woods to the road as a truck brought his body up from the dock, some of them even standing up as the
truck passed by (37). Thus, these stories of kinship and connection are about real relationships of
reciprocal respect, not just isolated human imaginings. In fact, from this perspective of relationship and
respect, the behavior of environmental biologists at work in this region is troubling to many of the
traditional people. Catching, tranquilizing, and branding the bears, pulling their teeth to calculate age,
and putting radio collars on them to track their movements are all considered by the biologists to be
necessary for species preservation. They need data and see this as the only way to get it. They wouldn’t
think to ask the Bear people, the ones who know and feel the bears, because such a way of getting
information isn’t scientific. But the older people warn that this research is disrespectful, that it is
“playing” with the bears, and that it will cause the bears to go away (108-113). Martin points out that
these two epistemologies, the way of kinship and the way of science, spring from two different
ontologies, the ontology of trust and the ontology of fear (205). Fearing that the earth will not provide
leads to ways of knowing which have the goal of manipulation and control. But a core belief and
experience in Native America is that the earth does provide bountifully to those who relate to it with
respect. All the hunting stories are about animals who choose to give themselves to the hunters who
behave respectfully (9). Hunting begins first in the mind, by contacting an animal through song (the
medicine hunt). One then asks permission to take some flesh; when permission is granted, it is a gift
from the animal of its robe (67). Its spirit lives on and must be honored through ceremonies of gratitude.
Balance in the world is maintained when everyone lives within an ontology and an ethic of gift-giving:
Whaling solves
Whaling is a form of adaptive cultural self-determination. It’s the last stand against
colonialism and the thin line between retention of Makah identity and total
assimilation into the global market economy
Reid 13—Director of the Native American & Indigenous Studies Program at University of
Massachusetts Boston (Joshua L., 2013, Tribal Worlds: Critical Studies in American Indian Nation
Building, “Articulating a Traditional Future: Makah Sealers and Whalers, 1880–1999”,
http://muse.jhu.edu.proxy.lib.umich.edu/books/9781438446318/9781438446318-14.pdf, rmf)
From the late 1960s until the early 1980s, the archaeological findings at Ozette, a Makah village just
south of Cape Flattery, “sparked a cultural renaissance” in the tribe.85 Several hundred years ago, prior
to the arrival of non-Natives to this region, a massive mudslide entombed part of Ozette village, one of
the principal sea mammal hunting sites along the Northwest Coast. Most of the 40,000 artifacts and
extensive faunal remains proved to non-Native academics what Makahs already knew: they have always
been a people of the sea. For example, 88 percent of the weight of faunal remains came from harvested
whales and demonstrated that Makahs hunted sea mammals for both subsistence and commercial
purposes.86 Most importantly, the archaeological work at Ozette uncovered the central importance of
whaling to Makah cultural, subsistence, and commercial activities, thereby strengthening the tribe’s ties
to their whaling tradition. Soon after the findings at Ozette, the People of the Cape began to consider
exercising their treaty right to whale once again. After the federal government removed gray whales
from the list of endangered species in 1994, the Makah Tribal Council secured government support to
petition the International Whaling Commission (IWC) for a whaling quota. In 1997, the IWC granted the
Makah nation a quota of five whales annually, and a year later, the tribal council formed a whaling
commission to oversee the hunt. Responding to animal rights activists concerned that the “traditional”
method of hunting was cruel, the tribal whaling commission contracted with a veterinarian to adapt a
highcaliber rifle to kill a whale more humanely and safely once a hunter had harpooned it. After
thousands of hours of physical and ritual preparation, Makah whalers harpooned and landed their first
whale in seventy-one years.87 Comparing the 1999 whale hunt to past sealing and whaling activities
illustrates that Makahs have always charted a traditional future for themselves amidst the changes
wrought by colonialism and expanding markets economies. Instead of accepting these changes and
challenges passively, Makahs have combined customary practices with modern opportunities and
technologies, much as other indigenous peoples have done around the world and over time. Indigenous
traditions and customary practices are not static cultural components frozen in time. They change over
time. For Makahs, these changes illustrate “the resilient, adaptive capacity of Indian groups to respond
to colonialism in challenging and often deadly circumstances.”88 By deciding what constitutes
“traditional culture” and how they will practice that culture, Makahs are exercising self-determination
and expressing their unique identity in today’s world.89 They are demonstrating that they live in the
present and are moving into the future while retaining their distinct cultural practices. As one Makah
put it: “We are whalers. We don’t want a Wonderbread culture.”90 Instead of submitting to
mainstream American culture, which one Makah characterized as an article of food composed of more
air than substance, this modern American Indian nation continues to articulate a traditional future
through the revival of an active whaling practice.
Ban=bad
The US ban on the Makah is an attempt to again tell how the Makah Need to Live
Brown 08 – (Jovana Brown received her Bachelor of Arts in Political Science at University
of California, Riverside in 1959. In 1965 she received her Masters in Library Science, in
1967 she received her Masters of Arts in Political Science, and in 1971 she received her
Doctorate in Library and Information Studies all from the University of California,
Berkeley. From 1974 to 1981 she served as Dean of Library Services at The Evergreen
State College. From 1981 to 1998 she was a faculty member at The Evergreen State
College, where she taught courses relating to Library Science and Political Science. After
retiring she was granted Emeritus status. In addition to her faculty positions, she
participated in the following campus governance activities: Athletics Advisory Board,
Dean's Search Committee DTF, Faculty Hiring Committee DTF, Computer Curriculum
Advisory Group, Environment/Community/Technology Autobiography Collective,
Faculty Advisors Group, Faculty Salary Study Group, Infraction Review Committee, and
Management and the Public Interest curriculum planning group.)
The animal rights groups and environmentalists who opposed the Makah whale hunt seem to believe in
the image of the “super whale.” Granted that some of the protestors had no understanding of treaty
rights, were against treaty rights,1 or racist, there was an additional factor present. The protestors
maintained their absolute attitude of cultural superiority toward the Makah, the unshakeable belief in
the primacy and importance of their own cultural viewpoints. One American Indian observer who was
at Neah Bay in 1999 wrote that the purpose of the protestors was to maintain white privilege, the
“right” of white people (and other non-Indians) to write and define the “histories” of Native peoples,
and attempt to invalidate the legal, ethical, historical, and moral quality of Native cultures and
traditions. Their often virulent and violent protest against Makah whaling reflected their own set of
beliefs and their attempt to impose these on to the Makah who had a quite different set of beliefs about
human – sea mammal relationships (Two Horses, p. 26, 185). Another American Indian observer who
was at Neah Bay in 1999 stated that this was an example of “the refusal of the public to respect a living
Indian culture, one that wasn’t in a museum exhibit behind a glass case” (Potts, 2007). After the hunt,
Makah whale Captain Wayne Johnson said: “I am so tired of Paul Watson’s (Sea Shepherd) crew and the
long line of missionaries and government Indian people telling us how and how not to be a Makah….My
grandfather was proud to be a whaler, and so am I….(There) has always been the assumption of nontribal people, that tribal culture is backward and needs to be raised up to whatever the Euro-American
fad of the century is….(Rodgers, p. 102). The antipathy of western Euro-American society toward killing
1
Australia and New Zealand are anti-whaling countries. The expression of this by their antiwhaling citizen groups is often to denigrate the importance of American Indian treaties. Some
observers believe this is a reaction to their own aboriginal populations and the struggles of
these populations for their indigenous rights.
whales is so strong that when the Makah began discussions with the Clinton administration in 1995
about resuming whale hunting – their first response was to offer to help the Makah develop a
destination resort, so they would not need to whale (Dudas, 2007). The offer was rejected. In addition
to the strong belief on the part of many of the protestors that whales are sentient, intelligent beings
that should not be harmed or killed, there were other, perhaps more understandable concerns
expressed by those who opposed the Makah. Some genuinely feel that a dangerous precedent is being
set in the United States and with the IWC to resume whaling. They say that this provides an opening for
the Japanese, Norwegian, and Russian whalers to expand their whaling (Jenkins and Romanzo, p. 89).
Some who hold this view go so far as to say that the Makah are the tool of the Japanese, who have
manipulated the Makah return to whale hunting so they (the Japanese) can expand their own whale
harvests (Russell, p. 102). Part of the reasoning behind this argument is that the IWC did not specifically
sanction the Makah hunt, but made the Makah quota part of that of another indigenous group
(Fletcher, pp 222-223). These critics say that this means the subsistence need of the Makah has not
been recognized by the IWC. The commercial whale watching industry also opposes Makah whaling.
Whale watching has become the most rapidly expanding part of ecotourism. Because gray whales
migrate fairly close to the shore they are a popular attraction. A 2001 study found that whale-watching
takes place in 87 countries and generates $1 billion in revenue (Hoyt). Thus, the argument is that a live
whale that can be watched has more “value” than a dead whale, also means that it has more value than
Makah cultural and treaty rights in this opinion.2
2
Whale watching can harm whales. NMFS statistics report that nineteen of the reported 292
whale- ship strikes between 1975 and 2002 involved whale watching vessels. “The vessels have
struck more whales than any other craft expect for Navy ships and cargo freighters over nearly
three decades” (Clayton).
Resistance key
A failure to stand up against the neocolonialism that has historically plagued
indigenous communities by affirming the whale hunt results in the eternal ignorance
of the importance of indigenous tradition
Roberts ’10 (Christina, Associate Professor at the Department of English, Seattle University, “Treaty
Rights Ignored: Neocolonialism and the Makah Whale Hunt”, wcp)
The conflict surrounding the Makah whale hunt reveals significant ethical and moral differences, but it
also uncovers a dangerous form of cultural imperialism that threatens tribal sovereignty and treaty
rights. The Makah Nation has rights protected by the Treaty of Neah Bay, and any infringement of these
rights indicates a significant political shift that affects tribal nations across the United States and
Indigenous communities around the world. Individuals with competing interests in natural resources,
from animal rights activists to farmers, express dissatisfaction with the special treatment that
Indigenous communities receive, instead of honoring the communities that flourished here prior to the
fairly recent “development” of the region and the nation. The Makah Nation must confront pervasive
neocolonialism in the form of political, economic, and cultural pressures in order to continue
practicing its whaling traditions. The rhetoric of neocolonialism rejects the tribal narrative of the Makah
Nation as it attempts to coerce the Nation into relinquishing a tradition at the core of Makah cultural
history. These manifestations of neocolonialism require the Nation to be prepared to challenge the
neocolonialist rhetoric of the most “liberal” of individuals who ignore or forget the importance of
Indigenous literary and tribal narratives. The ubiquity of neocolonialism exposes a need for an
Indigenous tribal narrative that reinforces the importance of an ongoing whale hunting tradition for the
Makah people.
K2 Self determination
The fight to retrieve the Makah’s whaling rights is part of an ongoing process of
cultural determination – this is key to prevent the permanent dissolution of the
Makah’s culture into Anglo-American society.
Miller ’11 (Jordan, Board of Regents of the University of Oklahoma University of Oklahoma College of
Law, “Exercising Cultural Self-Determination: The Makah Indian Tribe Goes Whaling”, wcp)
III. Cultural Determination This Article defines "cultural self-determination" as the right of a distinct and
identifiable group of people or a separate political state to set the standards and mores of what
constitutes its traditional culture and how it will honor and practice that culture. The conflicts that
arise when a state or people determine its own culture occur when the practice of that culture or
traditions affects the interests of other distinct groups or states. Of course, defining a "distinct group of
people" or a "separate political state" which should hold such rights could also cause problems. The
determination of the Makah Tribe to pursue its ancient whaling custom is an excellent example of a
distinct group of people and a separate political state defining its culture and exercising cultural selfdetermination by practicing that culture according to its traditions. As might be expected with a whaling
culture, the Tribe's cultural practices conflicted with other the United States' international leadership
role in controlling 207 interests, whaling, the anti-whaling nations, and some animal rights groups who
work to stop whaling. With this definition of cultural self-determination and the inherent risk of conflicts
with other "cultures" and nations in mind, we will briefly examine why the United States came to
support Makah whaling and whether the Makah have the right to decide what its culture is and how to
practice that culture. A. What Is Culture? A dictionary defines culture as the "pattern of human
knowledge, belief, and behavior that depends upon man's capacity for learning and transmitting
knowledge to succeeding generations!,] the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a
racial, religious or social group."223 This definition appears to fit the Makah situation perfectly
because the Tribe, as a racial, social, religious, and political group does want to preserve and pass on a
pattern of knowledge, beliefs, and behaviors about whales and whaling to future Makah generations.
Culture is not easy to define. There are about as many variations on the definition as there are
sociologists and anthropologists. The influential Dutch sociologist Geert Hofstede defined culture as
'"the collective programming of the mind which distinguishes one human group from another.' . .
.Culture is to a human collectivity what personality is to an individual."224 This definition is also apropos
to the Makah. It is important to the Makah to stay separate and distinguishable from the AngloAmerican society that tried so hard to destroy Makah culture and to assimilate its people into the
American "melting pot."225 The Makah have shown that they will fight to keep their own "personality"
as a nation, race, and people and will teach this culture to their children.226 National cultural
differences continue to exist even in today's "modern" world and in this era of globalization.227 These
differences are even demonstrated in governmental organizations and other types of organizations,
as
well as in the organization and rules of national court systems.228 This is because cultural values
influence the very forms of organizations, legal and procedures a society develops.229 In fact, even
something straightforward as what is offensive "is a subjective, cultural defined differently in each
country."230
It is a testament to the importance of American Indian cultures and the extent they have
fought to keep their cultures and religions that they still survive today as separate groups. The
experience of most of history has been the opposite; the conquering, dominant society's language and
culture takes over while the indigenous cultures and languages die out.231 Native Americans, however,
have fought for over three hundred years to keep their cultures, languages, European/American and
religions alive and separate from the society. Amazingly, they have kept many of these languages 232.
over Klaus conquered peoples).
Frantz, Indian Reservations cultural viable even aspects exercise of an
internal will to keep alive the desire to practice whaling, after a seventy-year hiatus. The Tribe has the
will and strength to fight the external battle to restore this cultural aspect. The Makah effort
demonstrates to other nations, cultures, and peoples that if they want to maintain their distinct
cultures that they must fight for the culture, practice their cultures, keep them alive within their own
group, and pass them on to succeeding generations. If this effort and success is not maintained, the
Makah and other distinct peoples will not remain peoples and societies separate and unique from the
dominant society.
Treaty rights
Makah Have Rights Guaranteed by Treaties, that the Government Should Uphold
The Pluralism Report 06 - is Run By Havard University Anthropology Department,
http://pluralism.org/reports/view/131)
In July 2004 the 9th District Court of Appeals upheld the Makah treaty rights to take whales, however
the court ruled with plaintiffs (organizations like the Humane Society, the Cetacean Society, and the
West-Coast Anti-Whaling society) by agreeing that the Environmental Assessment prepared by the
Makah and the United States government in 1994, after the California Grey Whale had been taken off
the Endangered Species list, did not take into account some more subtle threats the Makah hunt could
have on the Grey Whale population. Specifically, the suit claims that the whales in Neah Bay are a subgrouping of the larger, migrating Grey Whale population. It is unknown how this sub-group is
established and how or if it is refilled by whales of the migrating population, if its members are lost. The
judge in the case, though he admitted that there was significant evidence suggesting that the Neah Bay
group is indeed refreshed by the larger population, maintained that the Environmental Assessment did
not take into account this and other details. The ruling invalidates the original EA and creates an
injunction against further Makah hunting until a new Environmental Assessment can be drafted.Beyond
this, the Makah must also reapply for an exemption from the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA)
drafted in 1972 in an effort to curb the disastrous effects of over-fishing around the United States. The
Makah and the United States argued in the 2004 decision that they were already exempted from the
restrictions on hunting in the act, because of sub-section 1372(a)(2), which states that parties whose
right to hunt is protected when it is "expressly provided for by an international treaty
[established]...before the effective date [of the MMPA]." And though the Makah do have an agreement
with the IWC and the US government that grants them a 4 whale per two year quota, it does not predate the MMPA. In February 2005, the Makah applied for an exemption from MMPA, which the
NOAA's National Marine Fisheries Service is at the currently reviewing at the time of this updating
(Summer, 2006), in conjunction with a reissued Environmental Impact Survey, and will begin a formal
rule making process. The Makah could also, but have not yet, argued that the 1885 Treaty of Neah Bay
fulfilled the MMPA's exemption, largely because of the rather troublesome latter half of the most
relevant clause in that treaty: "The right of taking fish and of whaling or sealing at usual and
accustomed grounds and stations is further secured to said Indians in common with all citizens of the
United States." Since all citizens of the United States do not, currently, have the right to receive this kind
of exemption from the MMPA, neither do the Makah, strictly speaking.This case demonstrates the
absence of and need for consideration of tribal cultural preservation in a wide range of U.S. federal
policy governing issues from treaty rights to the stewardship of the nation's environmental resources. It
also demonstrates that though U.S. environmental policy can often be used as an umbrella of protection
for tribal claims it remains a rather problematic protection. And finally, it is a clear example of cultural
and political autonomy lost to a community once it has ceased to be an economic beneficiary of the
United States government.
AT: Authenticity – Savage Image
Questions of authenticity are reductionist and promote Western conceptions of
natives as barbaric —the very attempt to reconnect with cultural practices is an
authentic revitalization of Makah Culture
van Ginkel 04—University of Amsterdam (Robert, 2004, ETNOFOOR, XVII(1/2), pp. 58-89, “The Makah
Whale Hunt and Leviathan’s Death: Reinventing Tradition and Disputing Authenticity in the Age of
Modernity”, rmf)
In present-day Western society, for many people killing whales amounts to conducting an act of
barbarism. Though whaling has been perceived as a legitimate economic activity for a long time, overharvesting brought about depletion of many whale species and extinction of some. Subsequent action
of environmentalist groups gradually focused the world’s attention on the whale problem, and whaling
became highly controversial. In the early 1960s, the industrial way of slaughtering marine mammals was
still largely uncontested, but only two decades later a worldwide moratorium on whaling was in place.
The only exception to this no-take regime concerned the whaling activities of indigenous peoples who to
a large extent depended on whale meat and whale blubber for subsistence.
When in the mid-1990s the Makah Indian Tribe in the United States of America expressed an interest in
revitalizing its tradition of whaling after a hiatus of seventy years, vehement reactions followed.
Michelle Stewart succinctly summarizes the controversy surrounding the Makah’s intention to resume
whaling: ‘For many, the return to whaling was a significant reclamation of heritage, and indicative of the
strength of the revitalization movement; for others, the issue of hunting whales is an emotionallycharged debate related to the notion of whales as sentient beings and significant ocean mammals.’2 But
what would seem to be a complex Catch 22 between human and cultural rights versus animal rights was
complicated even further because the arguments in the debate over the Makah whale hunting rights
focused on notions of the authenticity of tradition. Hence, the eco-political discourse was not limited to
the question of whether the killing of a marine mammal was morally or ethically justified, but shifted to
discussing the merits and demerits of Makah culture and the genuineness and legitimateness of the
tribe’s wish to reconnect to its tradition, mobilizing it for present and future use in identity politics.
This article attempts to inventory and analyze the debate, in particular as it relates to the issues of
Makah tradition and its contested authenticity. The Makah whale hunt has been highly publicized and I
have used a plethora of Internet sources – including websites of the Makah, environmentalist
organizations, and regional newspapers – and published material, as well, to form an opinion about the
contents and dynamics of the discussion. The article will deal in particular with the question of how the
Makah represented their whaling heritage, howthey legitimized its revival and theways inwhich their
opponents attempted to undermine the legitimacy and genuineness of theMakah’s claims. As we shall
see, mudslinging was an integral part of the heavily mediatized debate. It forced the Makah to
authenticate the return to their whaling tradition vis-`avis anti-whaling activists and the wider
audience, who had entertained specific ideas about the ‘real’ Indian that were at odds with the
Makah’s intentions and actions. By extension, they had to ‘prove’ their practices were authentically
Makah, leading to a ‘clash of essentialisms’ in the contest over Makah culture and identity.
The manner in which the debate evolved raises serious questions about the idea of authenticity in the
sense of genuine, pure, pristine, untouched cultural heritage (cf. also Handler 1986, 2002). In the wake
of the 1980s ‘invention of tradition’ scholarly debates (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983), there seems to
have developed a more general penchant for debunking many traditions as constructions, fabrications
or even ‘false consciousness’. However, such ‘myth hunting’ is usually merely scratching the surface. It
does little to understand what quests for authenticity mean for and do to its seekers. The danger of
simplified constructionist perceptions is that almost any tradition becomes charged with the taint of
being inauthentic. Moreover, ‘[w]hen attributed to colonial “natives,” or romantic “primitives,”
authenticity could be a straitjacket, making every engagement with modernity (religions, technologies,
knowledges, markets or media) a contamination, a “loss” of true selfhood’ (Clifford 2004). In going
beyond the dichotomies of traditional/modern, pure/contaminated, genuine/spurious or authentic/
inauthentic, we may discover that the reasons to invent or revitalize traditions can be authentic
enough, albeit in a different sense than the simple deconstructionist one. To grasp this, we have to
focus on the ‘why and ‘how’ aspects of revitalizing the whale hunt and particularly on the experiences
generated in doing so. Therefore, in addition to considering the discursive identity politics, this article
will go into the Makah’s ‘quest for a felt authentic grounding’ (Lindholm 2002:337).
AT: Authenticity – Innovation Good
The innovation of hunting practice affirms their sovereignty and allows an authentic
relationship to their traditions.
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
Tradition, Technology, and Self-Determination
Another issue raised by the debate over Makah whaling also indicates that a common understanding of
cultural rights is yet to be generally accepted, particularly where cultural revival is concerned. Cultural
rights may be seen as consisting of, or at least including, the right to carry on traditions. The evidence
that Makahs have a long whaling tradition is incontrovertible. This fact could be considered a necessary
condition to asserting a cultural right; however, many people did not consider it sufficient in and of itself
to vali- date that right, opening the door to questions about the parameters of cultural revival.
One of the flashpoints in the popular debate over tradition has been the use of new technologies. Many
people subscribe to a simplified notion of tradition that locks practices into an early contact-era
snapshot of native lifeways, while many natives, anthropologists, and others consider inno- vation to be
a legitimate and inherent aspect of carrying on traditions, as well as an important dimension of selfdetermination and sovereignty. Nowhere did these notions conflict more than over the Makah’s use of
a high-powered rifle as part of their 1999 whale hunt.
The US courts have recognized that Native Americans cannot be limited to only those harvest
technologies that were employed at the time of the treaty while other groups are free to innovate (US v.
Winans, 198 US 371 [1905], Williams v. Seufert Brothers, 251 US 566 [1916]). But the assertion of
whaling as a cultural right by way of tradition, and not just a treaty right, made the issue more complex
outside of the legal arena. Many protestors viewed the use of guns and other modern technologies as
undermining the claim that the whale hunt was traditional. Many Makahs recognized that their
ancestors were quick to adopt new technologies that suited their pur- poses, such as metal harpoon
heads, and just as quick to reject those that did not.
At the beginning of the whaling initiative, there was no consensus among the tribe as to how the hunt
should be carried out. In the end, it was the IWC’s policies on humane killing, as measured by the time
from strike to death, which decided the issue. The 1999 whale hunt began with a harpoon thrown from
a dugout canoe and ended eight minutes later with shots from a high-powered rifle which was specially
developed for the hunt.
The established legal principle that technological innovation is not limited by treaty rights, and the fact
that the tribe contracted the development of a specialized weapon for the whale hunt, did not assuage
the concerns of those who considered the use of a gun to be antithetical to tradition. In fact, many
Makah tribal members believed that the use of a gun made the hunt less traditional. However, this did
not make the whale hunt less of a Makah tradition, in much the same way that the use of electric
safety lights on a Christmas tree makes that practice less traditional, but no less of a tradition. The
question of tradition hinges on the conditions that produce authenticity and who determines how it
shall be produced. Must authentic cultural revival involve exact replication of a former practice, or may
cultural revival include practices that revive traditions in a manner determined by those who come out
of that tradition? Since the historical, political, economic, social, and other conditions in which
traditional practices were embedded cannot be re-established, the standard of exact replication can be
a difficult one to meet, and is not necessarily the appropriate measure of successful cultural revival.
Tradition, and the authenticity it produces, cannot be entirely separated from issues of selfdetermination.
Subsistence resources that rebound to harvestable populations present special opportunities for cultural
revival. Because treaty rights cannot be extinguished legally by a lapse in practice, they are a strong
mechanism for ensuring the right to revive former customs. However, a requirement to justify cultural
practices in terms of ‘need’ can serve to subvert this matter of sovereignty, as can static notions of
tradition.
AT: Authenticity – FYI: The Process
Makah Indians Perspective is Uniquely Build Upon Observance and Ceremonial
Performance
Renker 13 – (Ann M. Renker received her Ph.D. in anthropology from The American University in
Washington, D.C. in 1987. Her dissertation focused on the grammar of the Makah language. Since 1980,
she has conducted fieldwork and household surveys on the Makah Reservation, has published articles
about the Makah Tribe, and has spoken about her work at national and international conferences. A
resident of the reservation since 1986, she has also been an expert witness for the Tribe since 1994., The
article is “Whale Hunting and the Makah Tribe: A Needs Statement,
http://iwc.int/private/downloads/ds5fzaq2p14w88ocko00o4gcw/64-ASW%204.pdf)
Whaling was restricted to the men who could physically and mentally withstand the rigors of intensive
ritualized training, possessed the hereditary access to the position and its ritualized knowledge, and/or
underwent a supernatural encounter which engendered the gift of whaling ability (Waterman 1920:3840, Gunther 1942, Drucker 1951:169-170). All crew members underwent rigorous ceremonial and
spiritual preparations prior to beginning a hunt; the success of the hunt depended as much on the
observance of ritual as the strength and talent of the hunters (Sapir 1939:114). From the white point of
view, the matter of greatest concern would be the arrangement of the tackle within boat, and the
methods of approaching and striking the quarry. From the Indian standpoint, however, the really
important matter is the proper observance before and during the hunt of the various ceremonial
performances for procuring help from the spirits. (Waterman 1920:38) Curtis (1911) provides detailed
accounts of rituals whalers used to prepare themselves for the hunt. Prayers and numerous songs form
a part of every whaler’s ritual. The secrets of the profession are handed down from father to son. As
soon as the boy is old enough to comprehend such matters and to remember his father’s words, he is
permitted to accompany the whaling crew on short expeditions. Now also begins his instruction
concerning the most propitious spots for ceremonial bathing places in lakes and rivers considered the
most dangerous. At the age of twelve he is taken at night and shown how to bathe and to rub his body
with hemlock twigs so as to remove the human taint and render the body acceptable to the whale spirit
which is being supplicated. Thereafter he bathes alone at intervals, while his instruction in prayers and
songs continues until the father deems it proper to retire in the young man’s favor
AT: T Development
For the Makah, development is a two-way street. Indigenous understandings of
“development” are founded upon the concept of giving rather than taking and
sustainability remains a fundamental component of it. Imposing Western definitions
and culture only reinforces colonialism.
McGregor 04—Aboriginal Studies Program and the Department of Geography at University of Toronto
(Deborah, 2004, In the Way of Development: Indigenous Peoples, Life Projects, and Globalization,
“Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Sustainable Development: Towards Coexistence”,
http://www.idrc.ca/EN/Resources/Publications/Pages/IDRCBookDetails.aspx?PublicationID=201, rmf)
There are superficial similarities between Indigenous views of sustainable development and those of
Western society. Primary among these are the recognition that the path of progress upon which the
current world order relies is not sustainable, and that fundamental changes are required. Despite such
similarities, the two views remain fundamentally different. This should not be surprising as the two are
products of very different world-views. In the spring of 1997, I had the honour of working with Mahgee
Binehns (Robin Greene) of Iskutewizaagegan No. 39 Independent First Nation1 in northwestern Ontario.
He is an Anishnabe (the name of the group of Indigenous people to which both he and I belong) speaker
who was raised traditionally in his own culture, and for whom English is an acquired language. I worked
with Mahgee Binehns on a 'Nationhood and Sustainability' submission for the Chiefs of Ontario Office
(the 'Chiefs of Ontario', as it is generally referred to, is the primary political voice of the First Nations
Chiefs in this province). This initiative was part of a larger undertaking initiated by the federal
government to understand what sustainable development would mean at a practical level. The Chiefs of
Ontario, in recognition of the fact that Aboriginal views would be very different from their Western
counterparts, wanted to prepare a separate submission rather than integrate their views into a larger
perspective. Before this time, I found myself always reacting and feeling uncomfortable with the
dominant views of sustainability being imposed upon me. It was during my time with this group of First
Nations people working in the environmental arena that an understanding of First Nations views of
sustainability finally crystallized. In the Nationhood and Sustainability working group, we began talking
about the concept of sustainable development but did not really get anywhere. It was not until we
started to discuss our world-view and the things that mattered to us that we realized that we have the
Creation stories to tell us who we are and how we are supposed to live sustainably. Creation stories
provide the fundamental understanding of our place in the world. They present us with teachings and
lessons explaining how we are to relate to the rest of Creation. Once the discussion turned to our worldview, rather than trying to figure out how our understanding was supposed to fit into someone else's
understanding (or agenda), we finally made some progress. Then came the 'insight'. Before I convey the
'insight', I'll tell you about a rule of thumb I live by in my work with Indigenous knowledge. This is what I
call the 'language rule', which I created for myself to enhance my own understanding. I apply it
whenever I encounter a concept or construct (such as 'environment', or 'traditional ecological
knowledge' or 'sustainable development') for which Aboriginal people are assumed to have an
automatic affinity. In these cases I conduct the language test, which is simply this: I ask someone who
was raised within a First Nations world-view and who learned their mother tongue before learning
English or another colonizing language about the concept. These people are usually highly
knowledgeable about their cultural traditions, values, and so on. I ask them to think about the concept I
am interested in to see if there is a corresponding concept in their own language. Not surprisingly, often
there is not. In many cases, expressing even a similar meaning takes a significant amount of time and
involves constructing Indigenous knowledge in a variety of different ways. Coercive processes that force
Native people to think and operate in non-Native terms frequently result in loss of meaning. While
talking with Mahgee Binehns, I asked whether there was any notion that corresponded with 'sustainable
development' in his language. He had been listening intently to the other conversations and knew what
the mainstream view was. He said there was no corresponding idea in the Ojibway language. The closest
he could come was to explain that Aboriginal people concern themselves with (and have based their
whole world-view on) the idea of learning how to give back to Creation, rather than taking away. Using
this as a starting point, it becomes apparent that Indigenous views of development are based not on
taking but on giving. Indigenous people ask themselves what they can give to the environment and
their relationship with it. The idea of sustaining, maintaining and enhancing relations with all of
Creation is of utmost importance from an Indigenous point of view. Indigenous ways of life focus on this
type of relationship with Creation. Indigenous people understand that with this special personal
relationship with Creation comes tremendous responsibility; it is not something to be taken lightly.
Creation is regarded as a gift. To be sustainable means to take responsibility and be spiritually
connected to all of Creation, all of the time. Everyone and everything carries this responsibility and has
duties to perform. All things contribute to the sustainability of Creation. It is not a responsibility
carried only by people. All of Creation contributes, and this includes everything from the tiniest animals
to the powerful sun. It includes the land, the weather, the spirits - all of it. An important principle that
emerges from the Creation stories is that we cannot interfere with the ability of these elements or
beings of Creation to perform their duties. When we interfere, then the sustainability of Creation is
threatened (as we now see). Over many years Indigenous people developed ways of living that
sustained this relationship with all of Creation. This relationship was based on giving. From an
Indigenous point of view, all of Creation matters. Sustainable development therefore means the
survival, not just of people, but of all Creation. Since colonization, the ability of Indigenous people to
live up to the responsibility of caring for all of Creation has been seriously inhibited. The sustainability
of Indigenous peoples' lives has been compromised in every aspect of everyday life, resulting in
destroyed lands, infant mortality, high suicide rates, and so on. Colonization and the accompanying
oppression have been so pervasive that even Indigenous people themselves are sometimes
disrespectful and harmful to Creation. However, the strength and perseverance of Indigenous views of
sustainability should not be underestimated; they remain in fact very powerful. Despite a concerted
effort to eliminate Indigenous peoples as a recognizable group in Canada, First Nations have persisted
and continue to pass on their knowledge. Many Elders remind us to be thankful to our ancestors, and
that because of their courage we are still alive today. Every time you hear a prayer in the Indigenous
language, it is a powerful reminder of how clever and strong our ancestors were. Through our long
history of oppression, our survival depended upon and still depends upon our traditions. This
understanding permeates every aspect of our lives and efforts at nation-building (Mercredi and Turpel
1993). We have learned to resist and thus have survived. Understanding colonialism and its devastating
impacts upon us, as well as learning how to resist various forms of colonialism (including internalized
forms), constitute an important part of the our traditional teachings today (Fitznor 1998). In summary,
Indigenous views of sustainable development are concerned with giving rather than taking, and with
what it is that we can contribute to creation. Indigenous views also include active resistance (sometimes
to sustainable development itself) and the process of reclaiming our traditions. Resisting and reclaiming
form an integral part of our concept of sustainable development.
Development is a conversation—its purpose is to recognize the traditional values of
the Makah whaling practices
Davis 93—senior sociologist in the Social Policy and Resettlement Division of the World Bank's
Environment Department (Shelton H., World Bank Discussion Papers, “INDIGENOUS VIEWS OF LAND
AND THE ENVIRONMENT”, http://www.mekonginfo.org/assets/midocs/0003817-environmentindigenous-views-of-land-and-the-environment.pdf, rmf)
First, indigenous peoples -- in contrast to Western economists and development planners -- do not view
land as a "commodity" which can be bought and sold in impersonal markets, nor do they view the trees,
plants, animals and fish which cohabit the land as 'natural resources' which produce profits or rents. To
the contrary, the indigenous view -- which was probably shared by our ancestors prior to the rise of the
modem industrial market economy -- is that land is a substance endowed with sacred meanings,
embedded in social relations and fundamental to the definition of a people's existence and identity.
Similarly, the trees, plants, animals and fish which inhabit the land are highly personal beings (many
times a 'kinship' idiom is used to describe these beings) which form part of their social and spiritual
universes. This close attachment to the land and the environment is the defining characteristic of
indigenous peoples; it is what links together, in a philosophical and cosmological sense, numerous
geographically disparate and culturally diverse peoples throughout the world. Second, there is a
practical dimension to this indigenous outlook that is reflected in the traditional knowledge and
strategies which indigenous peoples possess; these allow them to make a living in what from Western
eyes appear to be fragile or harsh environments. The surviving Indian tribes of lowland South America,
for example, have been found to understand the nature of forest succession, to replicate the ecological
dynamics of the rainforest in their simple but highly diverse gardening economies, and to possess
cultural practices which maintain a balance between human beings and limited animal and other protein
resources. Similarly, the pastoral peoples of eastern Africa -- who for so long have been identified by
Western livestock specialists as a major cause of and semi-arid land problems -- are today recognized as
possessing sophisticated knowledge about range and animal management, including strategies for
adapting to periodic drought and other natural calamities. Third, the reports emphasize the welldocumented fact that indigenous peoples throughout the world face serious problems in gaining
official recognition of their customary land and territorial rights. In most countries inhabited by
indigenous peoples, there is either very limited or no legal recognition of their land and territorial rights;
when national laws do recognize such rights, they are seldom defended in practice, especially when
they conflict with wider regional or national development goals. The two reports on the Maasai and the
Samburu, for instance, show the difficulties which pastoral peoples face in trying to adapt to national
land and resource policies. At one time, the Kenyan government with Bank support called for the
formation of "group ranches" as a way of decreasing rangeland pressures and increasing beef exports.
More recently, the government has promoted the 'privatization" of these entities, on the premise that
group ranches and other forms of collective land tenure are an impediment to rational land use and
management. Seldom questioned about their own wishes in terms of land tenure, local governance,
education, health and a myriad of other matters, and surrounded by outsiders who covet their
traditional lands and resources, the Maasai and Samburu -- like indigenous peoples in other parts of
Africa and the world -- have tended either to retreat further into frontier hinterlands or to resist
passively government attempts to change their modes of production and ways of life. Fourth, all of the
indigenous peoples surveyed in the reports face severe stresses in trying to maintain their traditional
land use and natural resource management strategies. Some of these stresses come from demographic
changes, resulting from the growth of their own populations and the reduction of their traditional
territories. But, there are also socio-cultural factors, such as the influences of missionaries, schooling,
and the mass media on indigenous peoples; these factors must be taken into account in any realistic
assessment of the potential of indigenous knowledge and practices for the conservation and
management of fragile ecosystems. Lastly, the authors of these reports highlight the desire of
indigenous peoples to participate in the development and environmental programs planned for their
lands. The nature of this participation, however, goes beyond the simple idea of 'beneficiary
participation" that was reflected in several of the integrated rural development programs of previous
decades, and is now reflected in various contemporary conservation programs involving 'buffer zones'
around nature reserves. Indigenous peoples, such as those who find their expression in these reports,
want to be the active designers of their own destinies. They wish to create alternative futures which
would include the best of the traditional cultures and knowledge of their ancestors, along with the new
techniques, knowledge and things offered by the modem world. Indigenous peoples, through various
organizations which have emerged in the international arena over the past decade, are striving to
participate in the international debate over the environment and development. This report argues
that it is in our own interests and those of the planet to open a permanent space for these peoples and
their values in this debate. For, as one Native American person from the United States has so perceptibly
said: "Development is a conversation. a conversation which recognizes the traditional values, beliefs,
and practices of the tribe... [and].. attributes value to things which the fields of economics and
accounting have not yet learned to measure and count. "
AT: Whaling DA
The destruction of whaling population was a result of Western capitalism and it was
the Makan people who took action to revitalize their populations. Their criticism are
based off of white anxiety of subversion.
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
In response to the decimating effects of European and American com- mercial whaling operations on
whale populations, the Makah tribe discon- tinued whale hunting in approximately the 1920s. Many
cultural attributes associated with whaling, such as whaling songs and dances, traditional stories,
training practices, and spiritual values remained active in local life. Whale meat and oil from other
sources were consumed by some families on the reservation through at least the 1940s, and attempts to
harvest from beached whales occurred through the 1980s (Sepez, 2001). Subsistence use of other local
resources, such as fish, shellfish, deer, and elk continued as an important part of reservation life (Sepez,
2001; Sepez-Aradanas and Tweedie, 1999).
By the 1970s, as some marine mammal populations were beginning to rebound, the United States used
enforcement agents to confiscate seal meat and oil from Makahs, and to ensure that beached whales
and whales accidentally entangled by local fishermen were not consumed (Sepez, 2001). In 1994,
Congressional clarification that the Marine Mammal Protection Act was not intended unilaterally to
abrogate Indian treaty rights (Pub.L. No. 103–238, para. 14, 1994, 108 Stat. 532) led to agreements
between the tribe and the National Marine Fisheries Service which allowed for regulated seal hunting.
When the Eastern Pacific gray whale was removed from the endangered species list in 1994 because its
population had recovered to near-historic levels, the Makah tribe began preparations to resume hunting
this species, in consultation with the National Marine Fisheries Service. Because the IWC’s policies had
changed following the bowhead crisis from the general exemption for aboriginal subsistence whalers to
the needs- based policy, Makahs were not automatically given the presumption of a right to this cultural
practice in that international forum.
While there were many issues brought out during the controversy that developed over the Makah
proposal and their successful taking of a single gray whale in May of 1999, two of these are particularly
relevant to the idea of a right to culture in wildlife management. After approximately seven decades
without active whale hunting by Makahs, what rights remained for the tribe to revive this practice? And
in the face of a growing international movement promoting whales as a class of creatures that should
not be hunted under any circumstances, what right does a minority ethnic group have to act upon a
different belief?
The Right to Cultural Revival
Given the history of cultural repression of indigenous groups worldwide, including native language
suppression and the banning of certain religious practices, combined with the tenacity of many cultural
identities, any con- temporary discussion of cultural rights is bound to include issues concern- ing
cultural revival. Cultural revival movements can be a welcomed part of intercultural relations when the
practices in question are non-threatening to the dominant society, such as with native dance groups.
The issue becomes more complex when the resumed practice challenges dominant worldviews,
subverts current resource allocations, or conflicts with other established rights. In these cases, the right
to culture receives much greater scrutiny. Does it matter if the lapse in practice was due to forced
discontin- uation or to circumstances beyond the group’s control? How long a lapse need there be to
extinguish a legitimate claim to a cultural practice? Is it relevant to consider how important the practice
was to the culture or if associated practices and values have continued? Under what circumstances does
self-determination override other concerns?
Makah do not view whaling in a western anthropocentric lens. Makah whaling is
based on alternative relations that allow sustainable existence.
Huelsbeck and Pine 12/13 – David R. Huelsbeck and Judith M. S. Pine, Huelsbeck has worked with the
Makah for 30 years on archaeology and educational projects. Working with the Makah Cultural and
Research Center, he has brought PLU students to Neah Bay to learn about Makah Culture January for
the last 12 years. Pine has taught anthropology for 9 years. She took a class to Neah Bay last January to
learn about the heroic efforts being made by the Makah Language Program to restore their language to
health. Both are professors of anthropology at Pacific Lutheran University.
All humans view things through the lens of culture, and no one has a monopoly on the “right” way of
looking at things. Some non-Makah feel that hunting whales is wrong. They have every right to feel
that way. In our society, however, we expect vegetarians to accept the dietary practices of those who
eat meat. We do not prohibit the consumption of pork or seafood because some of us believe these
foods should not be consumed. Prohibiting Makah whale hunting would be a much more extreme than
a mere dietary prohibition, it would deny the Makah a central element of their cultural heritage.For
thousands of years, Whale has nourished the Makah. Excavation at the Makah village of Ozette
revealed that whale accounts for as much as 85 percent of all of the food represented by the recovered
food remains. Few sites older than Ozette’s 1500 years have been sampled, but whale bones are
common in sites of human activity as much as 4,000 years old. Makah Culture is alive. Their identity as
whalers is an important part of the living culture. Although more than 70 years had passed since the last
whale hunt in the 1920’s, members of whaling families knew what they were supposed to do physically
and spiritually to prepare for the revived hunt in 1999. The tribe selected the image of Thunderbird
carrying a whale for the Tribal flag. Thunderbird hunts whales like an eagle hunts salmon and in the
distant past, Thunderbird taught the Makah how to hunt whales.Traditional belief holds that if whale
hunters are properly prepared both physically and spiritually, then Whale will give itself to them. To
characterize Whale offering this gift as a “victim asking for it” (Bergman TNT – 9/16) betrays a complete
lack of cultural understanding and is deeply offensive. For the Makah, Whale is not a subordinate
species under the dominion of Man, but rather a powerful, intelligent, generous entity who graciously
provides food and material for various uses to the Makah people. The hunt on 9/8 violated tribal law,
taking place without the required tribal authorization. It will be dealt with in Tribal Court where the
penalties for violating tribal hunting regulations can be severe.Hunting gray whales is legal, a right that
existed before the 1855 treaty with the U.S. that is guaranteed to the Makah by the treaty. The 1994
amendment to the Marine Mammal Protection Act states that “Nothing in this Act … is intended to alter
any treaty” with Indian Tribes. The gray whale no longer is endangered; the Scientific Committee of the
International Whaling Commission estimated in 2002 that more than 400 whales a year could be
sustainably harvested annually. The Makah are proposing to take no more than 5 whales per year.The
tribe has a strong record of managing their natural resources to enhance the resource base, including
timber, fish, and wild life. The continued practice of many important aspects of Makah Culture requires
a healthy natural environment. These efforts help to protect the marine environment of the region. It is
not in the Makah’s interest to harm the gray whale population; they have a detailed management plan
based on strong natural resource conservation principles.Non-Makah are in no way obliged to adopt
Makah practices or to become Makah, but neither are the Makah in any way obliged to cease to be
Makah. Once, not all that long ago, Europeans did attempt to oblige the Makah and other Native
Peoples to cease to exist. The continued existence of Native Americans is powerful evidence of the
importance of identity to human beings. An assertion that the Makah should “change their culture”
springs from an assumption that cultural difference is cosmetic, a stage dressing under which lies one
universal way of being in the world. Anthropological research has taught us that, although we are
universally human beings, members of the same species, there is no one universal human way of being
in the world.
AT: Whaling DA – Spillover
Their spillover argument is ridiculous. Western exploitation is the root of
environmental crises and ignores historical examples of the Makah tribe’s care for
nature
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
Underlying the debate over Makah whaling at the international level was the concern by some antiwhaling groups that, while the Makah effort was not in and of itself a threat to whale populations, it
could lead to increased whaling activities by other groups that could pose a threat. This theme resonates
with the concern of native groups in the wildlife management dilemmas already outlined that the
burden of conservation efforts is unfairly placed on native peoples who have not been the major
contributors to species declines. It resonated particularly with some Makah people, who felt that not
only were they being asked to bear this burden unnecessarily, but that they were being persecuted
additionally for having followed the environmentally responsible pathway of waiting to resume
hunting until the population had recovered.
AT: Whaling Not Key
Whaling is Essential Culturally and Economically to the Makah People
Renker 13 – (Ann M. Renker received her Ph.D. in anthropology from The American University in
Washington, D.C. in 1987. Her dissertation focused on the grammar of the Makah language. Since 1980,
she has conducted fieldwork and household surveys on the Makah Reservation, has published articles
about the Makah Tribe, and has spoken about her work at national and international conferences. A
resident of the reservation since 1986, she has also been an expert witness for the Tribe since 1994., The
article is “Whale Hunting and the Makah Tribe: A Needs Statement,
http://iwc.int/private/downloads/ds5fzaq2p14w88ocko00o4gcw/64-ASW%204.pdf)
The Makahs have drawn their subsistence from the ocean since time immemorial. However, halibut,
salmon and other ocean fisheries vary in abundance and their availability for harvest is subject to
national and international management restrictions and the demands of other harvesters. The
increasing variability in catch limits established by international and domestic fisheries management
entities diminishes the reliability of the marine resources on which Makahs have always relied. Other
environmental pressures, such as oil spills, red tides, pollution, and other factors beyond the control of
the Tribe exert additional pressure on the ability of the ocean to meet the Tribe’s economic, subsistence
and cultural needs. And, for many in a community suffering from high unemployment rates, alternative
sources of subsistence remain limited. Gray whales are an abundant and reliable resource that can
provide substantial nutritional benefits and offset the limitations on the Makah Tribe’s traditional
marine resources. For at least 1,500 years, whale hunting and the associated activities of processing,
preparing and eating whale products have had important ceremonial and social functions in the Makah
community, in addition to their more obvious subsistence benefits. The Makah whale hunt established a
social order for Makah society, governing wealth, status, marriage preferences and ceremonial displays.
Makah whalers, or headmen, were at the top of the social order because they could offer prestige,
protection and resources to kin and non-kin members of their longhouses. The community-at-large also
had an important role in the success of the hunt by processing, preserving and preparing whale products
for use by the community. Makah elders and professional anthropologists trace the decline of the social
and physical health of the Tribe to the elimination of the whale hunt and its associated ceremonial and
social rigors. A community household survey conducted in December 2011 demonstrated that an
overwhelming majority (85.2%) of the village believes that the resumption of the whale hunt has
positively affected the Tribe, and 91.8% specifically cited moral and social changes as the most
important benefit. Clearly, the Makah people believe that the successful hunt in 1999 contributed to the
physical and mental well-being of the tribal community. At the same time, they express concern about
the domestic legal obstacles that have prevented the Tribe from hunting for more than a decade. While
continuation of the hunt would certainly maintain the successes experienced within the Makah
community, members fear that social and psychological demoralization will result if the Treaty right to
hunt whales is not recognized.
AT: Whaling Not K2 Culture – Critique of ‘Need’
Framing the debate in terms of whether the Makah people need to whale works to
undermine self-determination and sovereignty by shifting presumption against
minority rights.
Sepez 2 – Former anthropologist at the NOAA, has worked with people in the Makah Tribe on and off for
almost 20 years, former professor at the University of Washington (Jennifer, “TREATY RIGHTS AND THE
RIGHT TO CULTURE: Native American Subsistence Issues in US Law” Cultural Dynamics
http://www.sagepub.com/healeystudy5/articles/Ch7/Treatyrights.pdf)
Under US law, these questions have been determined for those rights secured by treaty. According to
the Supreme Court’s ruling (US v. Dion, 476 US 734 [1986]), a treaty right cannot be extinguished by the
absence of exercising that right. For the Makah, the inclusion of the right to whale in their treaty with
the United States guarantees that right for as long as the treaty is in place and has not been abrogated,
whether or not any whales are actually taken. Treaties are not abrogated by the passage of time or a
change in circumstances. Only specific congressional expression of intent to abrogate is recognized by
the courts. The other questions are not relevant from a legal perspective. Again the strength of the
treaty in US law is a powerful determinant of rights that might otherwise go unrecognized.
The debate over Makah whaling in international bodies and in popular opinion was not concerned with
the principles of treaty interpretation under US law and so the above questions were, in fact, relevant to
these discus- sions. Because the IWC had previously developed its aboriginal whaling guidelines based
on balancing the cultural and subsistence need of an indigenous group with the need to continue whale
population recoveries, the issue of ‘need’ became a topic of debate (Sepez-Aradanas, 1998). In the case
of gray whales, the population has an estimated sustainable yield of 407–670 individuals per year (IWC,
1990, 1996), and the Makah request for up to five whales per year was estimated to have no
measurable impact on the population growth (National Marine Fisheries Service, 1997). With the
healthy size of the population for this species of whale not in question, much of the debate focused on
whether the Makah had a legitimate claim to a cultural ‘need’.
The shift from a framework of rights to a framework of needs alters the parameters of assessment but
puts the question of cultural practices in no less slippery territory. For those opposed to whaling, the
fact that tribal members were not starving and the amount of time elapsed since the previous whale
hunt were key factors. In the tribe’s statement to the IWC regarding needs, the marginal economic and
nutritional status of the tribe, the long history of whaling, and the present importance of whalingrelated practices in the culture were clear evidence in their favor (Renker, 1997).
A needs justification, as required by the IWC, may be a way to assess various factors in a cultural revival
movement, but it can also serve to under- mine aspects of self-determination and sovereignty.
Fundamentally, the focus on needs, as opposed to rights, shifts the onus onto minority culture groups
to justify why they should be permitted to engage in a practice, rather than onto the regulating
authority to show why they should not. In a court of law, this subtle shift can determine the outcome
of a case. If a group has a presumed right to culture, the other party has the burden of over- coming this
presumption with some compelling evidence as to why the right should not be enacted. In the face of
uncertainty, the side with the pre- sumption in their favor will prevail. Outside of the courtroom, the
benefit of the presumption is also a clear advantage. In requiring aboriginal groups to present proof of
‘need’, the IWC removes the presumption of a right to culture from indigenous groups which were
originally protected in the 1931 and 1946 agreements.
AT: Fem
Colonial feminism cannot help indigenous women—decolonization must be the
central political project
Sam Grey 2004, Graduate Student at the University of Victoria, Centre for Studies in Religion and Society, Decolonising Feminism: Aboriginal
Women and the Global ‘Sisterhood’”, Enweyin, Volume VIII
For several decades the caution that “[w]omen should not position themselves ‘on the same side’ without any regard for the differences in
power and privilege among women” (Grande, 2003:342) has circulated; yet feminism
continues to espouse a ubiquitous
‘sisterhood’ based on common female experiences, perceptions, values and goals. Unfortunately, feminists have
neither sufficiently examined differences between and among women, nor adequately considered the
historical and material specificity of Native1 identity. In light of this, the claim that ‘feminism is for
everybody’2 seems more politically useful, or optimistic, than accurate.¶ Jackie Huggins3 (1994) writes that,
“[d]espite the general diversity of opinions in Aboriginal society, the strong stance that Aboriginal
women take against the white women’s movement remains universal” (76). This explains, in part, why so
few Native women self-identify as feminist, and why alternative names for Native women’s movements
abound. Some writers employ variations on Patricia Hill Collins’ term ‘motherwork,’ which seeks to soften the feminist
dichotomies of home/work, individual/group and personal autonomy/collective self-determination (Hill Collins, 1994, as cited in
Udel, 2001:58). Sandy Grande (2003) self-describes as ‘Indigena,’ asserting: “I theorize and act in public life from a standpoint
that presumes decolonisation (not feminism) as the central political project” (329). Women are also said to
take on the political identity of ‘motherists’ – militant mothers fighting for the survival of their children –
when crisis makes the traditional women’s role in Native society difficult or impossible to perform (Snitow,
1990, as cited in Udel, 2001:49). M.A. Jaimes*Guerrero4 (2003) employs the term ‘Native Womanism’ to describe a struggle aimed at “restoring
the female principle to challenge the prevailing colonialist and patriarchal denigration of women and nature” (67).¶ The widespread and
strategic use of alternative descriptors amounts to an intentional separation from both the theory and
practice of feminism (Udel, 2001:49). This underscores Melissa Lucashenko’s5 (1994) claim that, “[...] while feminism is a
global movement with potential global applicability, political, regional and ethnocultural factors can mean that
mainstream feminist ideology is not appropriate for indigenous women [...]” (par. 2, emphasis added). Ultimately,
despite strong proclamations of universal acceptance, relevance and coherence, a worldwide feminist ‘sisterhood’ has thus far
proven unable to embrace Native identities.
The determining of what is patriarchal and what is not is a form of Western
categorization that cannot understand nuanced Native societies—modern-day
feminism denigrates Native voices
Sam Grey 2004, Graduate Student at the University of Victoria, Centre for Studies in Religion and Society, Decolonising Feminism: Aboriginal
Women and the Global ‘Sisterhood’”, Enweyin, Volume VIII
Despite existing evidence that the feminist canon is not universal, it is still widely claimed that ‘in all places and times women have been
oppressed.’ Prominent academics with extensive field research in Aboriginal communities have asserted – some for several decades10 – that
“the oppression of women as a cultural construct is nowhere near as prevalent as we have been led to believe [and] where it does exist, its
parameters most likely differ from ours” (Hardman, 2004:80). A continued
insistence on the ubiquity of male domination,
despite dissenting views, has two significant implications: it creates an atmosphere unconducive to dialogue between
feminists and Native women, based on the lack of a pivotal shared experience and the subsequent muting of other
potential commonalities; and it denigrates Native voices who continue to assert that their societies were not
oppressively patriarchal prior to the experience of colonialism. This disjunction is critical as the past, for Native women,
serves to both inform the present and shape contemporary action:¶ Despite differences in tribal affiliation, regional location, urban or
reservation background, academic or community setting, and pro- or antifeminist ideology, many Native women academics and grassroots
activists alike invoke models of pre-conquest, egalitarian societies to theorize contemporary social and political praxes (Udel, 2001:43).¶
Traditionally, Indigenous women were central to family, community, political, social and cultural
expression; all of which operated on foundational principles of balance and consensus (Sunseri, 2000:146). Even where gender
relations were not ideal, there is little contemporary writing that extols the beneficial influence of
colonialism on female oppression. The very existence of different gender spheres, however, has often been heralded as evidence
of oppression - though the specific situations cited are usually open to interpretation.11 In a 2003 interview, Mohawk activist Patricia
Monture noted that even positive portrayals of traditional gender relations are inadequate: “The
anthropologists describe us as a matrilineal society, but that doesn’t really cover the way our culture is
and our traditions are. Women are very much valued and that’s more about there not being a gender
hierarchy in the traditions of my people [...]” (Boulton, 2003: par. 13). Going a step further, Nahanni Fontaine12 (2003) argues
that the very terms ‘matriarchal’ and ‘patriarchal’ apply to Western frameworks unsuited to describing
the nuanced gender relations found in pre-contact Aboriginal societies. “Here, again, we get caught up
in utilizing concepts foreign to us,” she writes (par. 5).
Colonialism is the root cause of sexism—renewed value of whale hunting is an
actualizable solvency mechanism
Sam Grey 2004, Graduate Student at the University of Victoria, Centre for Studies in Religion and Society, Decolonising Feminism: Aboriginal
Women and the Global ‘Sisterhood’”, Enweyin, Volume VIII
Invariably, in Native nations, the
power of women waned as colonial power expanded (Fernandez, 2003:244). Typically,
those who married European men “lost power, autonomy, sexual freedom [...], maternity and inheritance rights
[...], ownership rights to their land, and suffered diminished economic autonomy and political status” (Udel,
2001:45). The process of disempowering women was codified in the policies and laws of the settler colony,
and later in those of the nation-state:¶ In order to break down and destroy a culture, you have to get to
the root of it. The heart of Aboriginal cultures is the women. So it makes sense to start making policies
that would banish the women, the givers of the language and the culture and the life. The ones who brought in
the Native children and made them Native (Anderson, 2000:26).¶ Assimilation, as a colonial project, was intentionally
structured to attack the bond between men and women in Native communities, and proved most effective when
channelled through policies that amounted to the outright theft of generations of Indigenous immeasurable impact on gender dynamics in
Aboriginal societies. Dawn Martin-Hill13 (2003) writes that the
deliberate alienation of brothers and sisters through
residential schooling created “a legacy that has deeply affected the relationship between Indigenous
men and women and that has shaped men’s psychological attitudes towards women” (115).¶ The sexual
oppression that Native women currently face on a day-to-day basis cannot be separated from the twin
legacies of colonialism and racism, which continue to marginalize Aboriginal peoples en masse,
devaluing their cultures and traditions (Oullette, 2002). “In the face of coerced agrarianism and the attending devaluation
of hunting and the consequences of forced removal and relocation, Native men have suffered a loss of status and
traditional self-sufficiency even more extensive than their female counterparts [...]” (Medicine 1991, as cited in
Udel, 2001:54). The loss of self-esteem associated with this erosion of autonomy and cultural support has
created a situation in which women are the primary subjects of mistreatment; significant secondary effects are
experienced by a much wider group. Men, then, “are also adversely affected by poisoning their own community” (Fernandez, 2003:247).¶ Dawn
Martin-Hill (2003) has observed that
“[t]he fragmentation of our cultures, beliefs and values as a result of
colonialism has made our notions of tradition vulnerable to horizontal oppression – that is, those
oppressed people who need to assume a sense of power and control do so by thwarting traditional
beliefs” (108). This hybrid structure has been accurately called a “trickle-down patriarchy” (Jaimes*Guerrero,
2003:58). Thus Native women express the desire to both interrogate and revitalize ‘tradition’ (Fernandez,
2003:252), and to have an equal voice in the determination of which contemporary practices properly
express Indigenous traditions and cultural values. While that process is now underway – and in many cases, thriving – there
is no absolute end in sight. To answer Selina Tusitala March’s14 question: “[d]oes this mean that the addressing of women’s
oppressions must be shelved until a mythical postcolonial era has been achieved?” (Tusitala March, 1999:669),
Osennontion (Marlyn Kane) and Skonaganleh:rá (Sylvia Maracle) say that “[w]omen have a responsibility to make sure that
we don’t lose any more, that we don’t do any more damage, while we work on getting our original
government system back in good working order” (as cited in Udel, 2001:55).
Turn—colonization is the reason for exacerbated sexism in native communities,
traditional societies value women
Joyce Green 1993, works for the Institute for Intergovernmental Relations, PhD in Political Science at the university of Alberta, Canada,
“Constitutionalizing the Patriarchy: Aboriginal Women and Aboriginal Government”, Constitutional Forum
Most Aboriginal women acknowledge that traditional, that is, pre-contact
Aboriginal societies, valued women and
women's work. 5 However, the trauma of colonisation and the realities of social change in contemporary societies
have changed social roles and expectations. The European model of the patriarchal family is now
normative in most Aboriginal communities;6 the dominant society's low valuation of women and
women's work has been laid over Aboriginal values.¶ Combined with the social pathologies of wife assault, child abuse and
sexual abuse, contemporary Aboriginal societies often manifest the worst of the European patriarchy. According to the Canadian Panel on
Violence Against Women, eight out of ten Aboriginal women experience physical, sexual, psychological or ritual abuse, a rate twice as high as in
non-Aboriginal society.' 7 Similar findings led other researchers to conclude that "[t]his sadly confirms the family unit as a place of danger and
high risk, instead of security and protection."'" In a client survey of native women in Lethbridge, Alberta, of 63 respondents: * * * *¶ * * * *¶
91% had personal experience with family violence 75% grew up as targets of family violence 46% identified alcohol as a factor 29% experienced
violence without the alcohol¶ factor¶ 70% suffered violence at the hands of relatives 50% were currently single 75% lived on monthly incomes
of less than $1,100 50% were supporting children¶ The writers concluded that "[flamily violence is a constant reality in the lives of urban Native
women."' 9¶ Violence against women and children has become a primary concern for many Aboriginal women, and is viewed as a priority for
the political agenda. Many women worried that male politicians would make decisions around constitutional renewal and Aboriginal
government structures and processes without integrating women's agenda, or understanding women's reality. "As women, we're saying, you're
(men) making the decisions and you don't even know what the hell we need out here or what we want, said Lil Sanderson, a NWAC
representative from La Ronge."2 °¶ This view was reiterated by Marilyn Fontaine, for the Aboriginal Women's Unity Coalition, in a presentation
to the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Fontaine stated that her organisation had no confidence in the primarily male Manitoba Indian
leadership.2¶ Aboriginal women have been reluctant in the past to challenge the positions taken by the leadership in the perceived need to
present a unified front to the outside society which oppresses us equally ...H.owever it must be understood that Aboriginal women suffer the
additional oppression of sexism within our own community. Not only are we victims of violence at the hands of Aboriginal men, our voices as
women are for the most part not valued in the male-dominated political structures.¶ Fontaine declared that "the abuse and exploitation of
women and children is a political issue of equal importance to achieving recognition to govern ourselves., 22¶ In an address to the Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, Doris Young of the Indigenous Women's Collective said: 23¶ We
believe that we have the
inherent right to self- government, but we also recognize that since Euro- pean contact, our leaders have
mainly been men. Men who are the by-products of colonization ...¶ A June 25th, 1993 Edmonton JournalStory featuring
Chief Felix Antoine of Rosseau River proposing an amnesty for child and wife abusers illustrates some of the problems suggested by¶ Fontaine,
Sanderson and others.24¶ By allowing them time to talk about their problems without fearing arrest, those who abuse their children or beat
their spouses can work with others in the community and "begin to feel like a human being," he said.¶ The Chief was speaking to a Native task
force inves-tigating charges of political interference by chiefs in Native child welfare cases. Nothing was reported about the Chiefs concern with
the safety and humanity of victims, nor of the responsibity of abusers. Indeed, one gets the sense that the abusers are the victims.¶
Systemic violence has come to be understood as a political expression of issues of power and control.
Violence is one measure of the crisis in Aboriginal communities, and women's experience as primary
victims of that violence is a measure of women's political marginalisation. The issue of violence against women and
children is only beginning to be taken seriously by Aboriginal organisations and by some band councils. However, measurable response (such as
programs for victims and batterers, and zero-tolerance of violence) to the issue is slow coming. This is consistent with the slow response or
non-response of existing Aboriginal politics to other issues identified by Aboriginal women.
White feminist movements exclude “women of color”
M.A. Jaimes Guerrero 2003, Professor of Women and Gender Studies, leading Native American and Mestiza author, scholar, activist,
novelist and poet, “’Patriarchal Colonialism’ and Indigenism: Implications for Native Feminist Spirituality and Native Womanism”, Hypatia, Vol.
18
One perspective on "feminism" among Native American women is that the¶ Emphasis has been on
individuality as conceived by early Western feminists¶ who wanted more equality with men in the prevailing patriarchal
sociopoliti- cal structures in U. S. American society and who premised their struggle on¶ democratic ideals for gender
equity(Jaimes1998,413-39 orJaimes1999a,1-25;¶ seealsoJaimesandHalsey1992).Starting
with the suffragettes women among
the upper and middle classes demanded the vote for "white" women within this historical legacy of the
women's movement (Kerberand De Hart 1999, Introduction),but they were not concerned with other "women of color"
in this democratic pursuit. Therefore, Native American women perceived this early¶ feminism as a reaction to an
existing patriarchal sociopolitical system not concerned with the racialized oppression-as a result of
Euroamerican racism-of¶ other marginalized women and subcultural groups of "ethnic minorities," such as Native Americans as tribal
peoples, or with the impact of U. S. colonialism on their traditional ways of life. Feminists of these earlier and more exclusive
times were focused on challenging sexism and the chauvinistic behavior of men, in general, toward women in mainstream populations.
These feminists were generally more educated
contrast to their "women of color" counterparts.
in Euroamerican hegemony, married, and of the middle class, in
Perm—patriarchy and colonialism are interconnected—only a deconstruction of this
can overcome overlapping oppressions
M.A. Jaimes Guerrero 2003, Professor of Women and Gender Studies, leading Native American and Mestiza author, scholar, activist,
novelist and poet, “’Patriarchal Colonialism’ and Indigenism: Implications for Native Feminist Spirituality and Native Womanism”, Hypatia, Vol.
18
The impact of both U. S. colonialism and patriarchy on Native American peoples, especially on women,
has been to accomplish a further erosion of their indigenous rights as the earliest groups in the Americas. For Native
American women, this has meant a double burden because they must deal with both racist and sexist
attitudes, and with the discrimination that results from such prejudices. This can be described as "patriarchal colonialism,"and
deconstructing it demands an understanding of U. S. American colonial history as a legacy that brought
over Eurocentric notions of the inferiority of other non-white or non Western" races," and of all women in
general, versus the presumed superiority of the Anglicized, Euroamerican male. A synonym for patriarchy is paternalism; yet patriarchal structures and attitudes
are indicative of a more systemic¶ hegemony in the prevailing chauvinism of postcolonial times, as juxtaposed with the
racism characteristic of U. S. colonialism. In this context also arises a need to address the impact of what can be termed
"transnational colonialism"as practiced among third world peoples, as the resultof NAFTA and other modern transnational arrangements. In response, a
global indigenous resistance emerging to resist a new wave of genocide linked with ethnocide and ecocide; within the Native Feminist
and Native Womanist movements that are a part of this resistance, Native and indigenous women are in activist and leadership roles, campaigning for indigenous
liberation in life and land struggles.
AT: Anthro
The idea that whaling is necessarily anthropocentric cedes their resistance to the
authoritarian right and culminates in eco-fascism
Staudenmaier 05—Institute for Social Ecology (Peter, 1/1/5, Institute for Social Ecology, “Ambiguities
of Animal Rights”, http://www.federfauna.org/images/Ambiguities%20of%20Animal%20Rights.pdf, rmf)
The unexamined cultural prejudices embedded deep within animal rights thinking carry political
implications that are unavoidably elitist. A consistent animal rights stance, after all, would require many
aboriginal peoples to abandon their sustainable livelihoods and lifeways completely. Animal rights has
no reasonable alternative to offer to communities like the Inuit, whose very existence in their ecological
niche is predicated on hunting animals. An animal rights viewpoint can only look down disdainfully on
those peasant societies in Latin America and elsewhere that depend on small-scale animal husbandry as
an integral part of their diet, as well as pastoralists in Africa and Asia who rely centrally upon animals to
maintain traditional subsistence economies that long predate the colonial imposition of capitalism.
These are not matters of “taste” but of sustainability and survival. Forsaking such practices makes no
ecological or social sense, and would be tantamount to eliminating these distinctive societies
themselves, all for the sake of assimilation to standards of morality and nutrition propounded by
middle-class westerners convinced of their own rectitude. Too many animal rights proponents forget
that their belief system is essentially a European-derived construct, and neglect the practical
repercussions of universalizing it into an unqualified principle of human moral conduct as such. (13)
Nowhere is this combination of parochialism and condescension more apparent than in the animus
against hunting. Many animal rights enthusiasts cannot conceive of hunting as anything other than a
brutal and senseless activity undertaken for contemptible reasons. Heedless of their own prejudices,
they take hunting for an expression of speciesist prejudice. What animal rights theorists malign as
‘sport hunting’ often provides a significant seasonal supplement to the diets of rural populations who
lack the luxuries of tempeh and seitan. Even indigenous communities engaged in conspicuously lowimpact traditional hunting have been harassed and vilified by animal rights activists. The campaign
against seal hunting in the 1980’s, for example, prominently targeted Inuit practices. (14) In the late
1990’s, the Makah people of Neah Bay in the northwestern United States tried to re-establish their
communal whale hunt, harvesting exactly one gray whale in 1999. The Makah hunt was noncommercial, for subsistence purposes, and fastidiously humane; they chose a whale species that is not
endangered and went to considerable lengths to accommodate anti-whaling sentiment. Nevertheless,
when the Makah attempted to embark on their first expedition in 1998, they were physically confronted
by the Sea Shepherd Society and other animal protection organizations, who occupied Neah Bay for
several months. For these groups, animal rights took precedence over human rights. Many of these
animal advocates embellished their pro-whale rhetoric with hoary racist stereotypes about native
people and allied themselves with unreconstructed apologists for colonial domination and
dispossession. (15) Such examples are far from rare. In fact, animal rights sentiment has frequently
served as an entry point for rightwing positions into left movements. Because much of the left has
generally been reluctant to think clearly and critically about nature, about biological politics, and about
ethical complexity, this unsettling affinity between animal rights and rightwing politics — an affinity
which has a lengthy historical pedigree — remains a serious concern. While hardly typical of the current
as a whole, it is not unusual to find the most militant proponents of animal liberation also espousing
staunch opposition to abortion, homosexuality, and other purportedly ‘unnatural’ phenomena. The
“Hardline” tendency, which in the 1990’s spread from North America to Central Europe, is perhaps the
most striking example. (16) But the connections to reactionary politics extend substantially further. The
recent Russian youth group “Moving Together”, an ultranationalist and sexually repressive organization,
has made animal protection one of the central planks in its platform, while the Swiss “Association
Against Animal Factories” wallows in antisemitic propaganda. In Denmark, the only party with a
designated portfolio for animal concerns is the anti-immigrant Danish People’s Party, while the far-right
British National Party boasts of its commitment to animal rights. The contemporary neofascist scene in
Europe and North America has shown an abiding interest in the theme as well; over the last decade
many “National Revolutionaries” and “Third Positionists” have become actively involved in animal rights
campaigns. (17) Although this widespread overlap between animal liberation politics and the
xenophobic and authoritarian right may seem incongruous, it has played a prominent role in the
history of fascism since the early twentieth century. Many fascist theoreticians prided themselves on
their movement’s steadfast rejection of anthropocentrism, and the German variant of fascism in
particular frequently tended toward an animal rights position. Nazi biology textbooks insisted that
“there exist no physical or psychological characteristics which would justify a differentiation of mankind
from the animal world.” (18) Hitler himself was zealously committed to animal welfare causes, and was
a vegetarian and opponent of vivisection. His lieutenant Goebbels declared: “The Fuhrer is a convinced
vegetarian, on principle. His arguments cannot be refuted on any serious basis. They are totally
unanswerable.” (19) Other leading Nazis, like Rudolf Hess, were even stricter in their vegetarianism, and
the party promoted raw fruits and nuts as the ideal diet, much like the most scrupulous vegans today.
Himmler excoriated hunting and required the top ranks of the SS to follow a vegetarian regimen, while
Goering banned animal experimentation. The list of pro-animal predilections on the part of top Nazis is
long, but more important are the animal rights policies implemented by the Nazi state and the
underlying ideology that justified them. Within a few months of taking power, the Nazis passed animal
rights laws that were unprecedented in scale and that explicitly affirmed the moral status of animals
independent of any human interest. These decrees stressed the duty to avoid causing pain to animals
and established extremely detailed and concrete guidelines for interactions with animals. According to a
leading scholar of Nazi animal legislation, “the Animal Protection Law of 1933 was probably the strictest
in the world”. (20) A 1939 compendium of Nazi animal protection statutes proclaimed that “the German
people have always had a great love for animals and have always been conscious of our strong ethical
obligations toward them.” The Nazi laws insisted on “the right which animals inherently possess to be
protected in and of themselves.” (21) These were not mere philosophical postulates; the ordinances
closely regulated the permissible treatment of domestic and wild animals and designated a variety of
protected species while restricting commercial and scientific use of animals. The official reasoning
behind these decrees was remarkably similar to latter-day animal rights arguments. “To the German,
animals are not merely creatures in the organic sense, but creatures who lead their own lives and who
are endowed with perceptive facilities, who feel pain and experience joy,” observed Goering in 1933
while announcing a new anti-vivisection law. (22) While contemporary animal liberation activists would
certainly do well to acquaint themselves with this ominous record of past and present collusion by
animal advocates with fascists, the point of reviewing these facts is not to suggest a necessary or
inevitable connection between animal rights and fascism. (23) But the historical pattern is unmistakable
and demands explanation. What helps to account for this consistent intersection of apparently contrary
worldviews is a common preoccupation with purity. The presumption that true virtue requires
repudiating ostensibly unclean practices such as meat eating furnishes much of the heartfelt vehemence
behind animal rights discourse. When disconnected from an articulated critical social perspective and a
comprehensive ecological sensibility, this abstentionist version of puritan politics can easily slide into a
distorted vision of ethnic, sexual, or ideological purity. A closely related trope is the recurrent
insistence within animal rights thinking on a unitary approach to moral questions. Rightly rejecting the
inherited dualism of humanity and non-human nature, animal rights philosophers wrongly collapse the
two into one undifferentiated whole, thus substituting monism for dualism (and neglecting most of
the natural world in the process). But regressive dreams of purity and oneness carry no emancipatory
potential; their political ramifications range from trite to dangerous. In the wrong hands, a simplistic
critique of ‘speciesism’ yields liberation for neither people nor animals, but merely the same rancid
antihumanism that has always turned radical hopes into their reactionary opposite.
A Westernized critique of anthropocentrism doesn’t take into account the necessity of
whaling practices for survival in indigenous communities—if the thesis of the kritik is
true then this is justified under the rules of nature—other species eat each other to
survive
Peter Bridgewater 2003, Secretary General for the Convention on Wetlands of International Importance and was the Australian
Commissioner to the International Whaling Commission from 1990-1997 and also a commissioner on the Independent World Commission on
the Oceans from 1995-1998, “Whaling or wailing?”
In the eleven years since the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED, Rio de Janeiro, 1992), significant advances
have been made in the management of global biodiversity. But while environmental problems have become globalised, their poten- tial
management solutions have become more localised. Global conventions, from the Con- vention on Biological Diversity (CBD) through the
Convention to Combat Desertification (CCD), the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of wild fauna and flora (CITES), as
well as the
ICRW, among others, have tended to create a ‘‘lowest common denominator’’ approach to
resource manage- ment. Such an approach often ignores – or even militates against – aspects of cultural
diversity, including adequate respect and under- standing of issues facing traditional or indigen- ous
people. The Commission on Sustainable Development and its priorities also contribute to this blandly globalising effect. Lynge (1993) has
noted the close links between the question of sustainable use of wildlife, the rights of indigenous
peoples and the issue of genetic resources. Yet the tension between global problems and local solutions is not simply a policy
inadequacy or an obstacle to be overcome. It is, in many ways, inherent in the issue of global biodiversity itself. Living systems, regardless of
their level of organisation, are simply not linear systems. The
challenges to management, using, sharing, and conserving
biological diversity are:¶ – to contain crises; – to control the potential for conflict; – to avoid seemingly simple linear
approaches¶ and solutions, by calling on a more integra- tive creativity.¶ One of the significant problems in any discussion of ecosystem
management and conservation is to maintain an awareness of scale and of the existence of more than one scale. In purely human terms, this
corresponds, at any given scale, to the confrontation between the concerns of and concern for the individual and those of and that for the
group, or again balancing self- interest with wider interests. Furthermore, the same issues arise across scales, since it is rarely simply ‘‘in the
nature of the problem’’ that the human groups involved should be defined at some particular level. Whaling is exemplary of issues that bring
into play scales from the most local to the radically global, and it is not incidental that considerations of the interests of indigenous peoples
raise the question ‘‘diver- sity for whom?’’. Similarly, from a conservation perspective, the concerns can be expressed in a continuum from
species populations to earth- scapes. In the final analysis, there are legitimate and proper concerns at all scales. Conflict arises in the
establishment of priorities and the allocation of resources. Most issues can be selectively and variously scaled, depending upon the associated
values and beliefs. Certainly the Ecosystem Approach, endorsed by the CBD, is absolutely about scale.¶ Taking account of all these dimensions
points to the complexity of the issue of diversity. There are three basic and interactive elements of diversity: cultural, biological, and place. The
importance of all three elements should not be minimised, nor should one be allowed to dominate. Human identity is derived from the
intellectual interpretations of the interactions of these elements. And this is where globalization has most impact. Prevailing values derived
from the current beliefs of society can be influenced and shaped over time by scientifically gathered information, but at any given moment
those values and beliefs are more important in the shaping of public policy than the results of the latest scientific research.¶ In this respect, it is
important to emphasise that human destructive capacity is an intrinsic component of the ecosystem, rather than some- thing outside and
separable from it. The diversity of species with which we interact on a more or less intimate basis is very great and the frequency of contact
extends from symbiosis, with those that are virtually permanent residents on or with us, to highly unusual with respect to species rarely
encountered. No doubt consideration of humans as a biological species subject to the broad ecological principles applicable to other species
is not without opposition, and there are those who would view humans as being somehow outside or distinct from the natural world.
Nevertheless we prey
on other species (carnivor- ously and herbivorously) for food and other resources. Like other
species, we alter the place where we live and are quite capable of making that place uninhabitable. And we compete
with other species for resources, including those in the oceans. Indeed, one argument advanced for whaling of certain
species (e.g., minke whales) is that they compete with fishers for fish stocks. As Stevenson (1997) notes, drawing on a Canadian Department of
Fisheries and Oceans report, ‘‘where human beings see themselves as an integral part of natural ecosystems, use is and can be an excellent
conservation strategy. For example, both Inuit and scientists have recog- nised that whale populations that are hunted on a sustainable basis
have less disease, more food, and reproduce faster than whale populations not hunted sustainably’’.¶ In most countries, strong lobbies drive
wildlife policies, whether for conservation, hunting, or management. Ironically there are also strong NGO lobbies that argue for nations to take
action against the wildlife polices of other nations through international vehicles such as CITES and ICRW. I am not trying to suggest here what
or who is right or wrong, merely to identify the multifaceted approach we have to local, national, and global wildlife management issues. If we
understand that many of our land- and seascapes are now unstable, with populations out of their natural balance, then it is clear that
management of wildlife populations has a key role to play, despite the ecologically undesirable connotations of the word ‘‘management’’ from
certain environmen- tal perspectives.¶ In the current context of debates about international whaling policy, given the diverse and complex
tensions at work, the issue of management, in the broad sense, is inescapable. In
view of the recovery of some whale populations, overriding concern about extinction, while not discarded, is now attaining less prominence than concerns about,
e.g., the humaneness of the whale kill, underlined by the lack of need for whale products. It is striking, however, that all
these views are set in the context of Western supermarkets and coffee bars, and take no account of the
concerns of whaling communities. This emphasises the continuing and in some ways heightened tension between the original
objec- tives of the IRCW: the conservation of whale resources and the orderly development of the whaling industry.
Restrictions ignore issues of native sovereignty—the IWC regulations are in terms of
protecting the economy, not the non-human world
Peter Bridgewater 2003, Secretary General for the Convention on Wetlands of International Importance and was the Australian
Commissioner to the International Whaling Commission from 1990-1997 and also a commissioner on the Independent World Commission on
the Oceans from 1995-1998, “Whaling or wailing?”
Furthermore, what is at stake operationally in a hypothetical relaxation of the IWC mor- atorium would appear to be not greatly different from
aboriginal operations, which – whatever may be their cultural and economic significance – use similar hunting techniques. The arguments go
back and forth, focusing on aspects of commerciality of the Japanese and Norwegian operations – and the purported lack of the same in
aboriginal communities. Indeed, there are regularly requests to recommence some aspects of whaling from Japan and Norway, who argue
cogently in the Commission that the ban on small-type whaling operations from their coastal communities is unjustified since the operational
aspects would appear to be not greatly different from aboriginal operations in some other countries. Discussion on this issue – with respect to
which, clearly, a global instrument is drawing a ‘‘line in the sand’’, where there is in fact a continuum – is an annual ritual. In May 2002, in
particular, following a Japanese-led challenge to ‘‘double standards’’ with respect to whaling, the
IWC turned down requests from
the United States and Russia to renew quotas that allow their native peoples to hunt whales. A solution was
eventually found, but nonetheless, at the 2003 meeting of the IWC, more resolutions were adopted that
emphasised conservation needs only, neglecting or ignoring other issues. At the heart of international
regulation of whaling thus lies a clash of cultures with hunting communities concerning the responsible
use of the resource, which currently plays out as the ascendancy of global orthodoxy over cultural
imperatives. And as I write this paper (September 2003), news is at hand that Iceland has despatched some whaling ships to hunt minke
whales in the unendangered central Atlantic population.¶ Yet what is probably of much greater significance is the increasing awareness that
whales should not be considered apart from the marine environment that they inhabit, and the detrimental changes to it that threaten whale
stocks, as well as most other marine biodiversity. These environmental uncertainties, coupled with uncertainties involved in whale stock
assessment, management, and regulation, have only served to reinforce the views of those people and nations who are opposed to a
resumption of commercial whaling. An expression of that concern is the need articulated for a large sanctuary to provide a pool of whales that
are sure to be safe from hunting. And, indeed, protected areas of some sort are clearly part of an ecosystem approach.¶ The Australian
Government produced, some years ago, a report entitled The Universal Metaphor (National Task Force on Whaling 1997). This publication
sought to argue a case for the complete prohibition of whaling of any kind, and suggested, as a practical means to achieve the objective, the
extension of existing sanctuaries to cover all international waters. Such a measure is probably unnecessary from a purely conservationist
perspective, and relies ultimately on the view that whales are inherently special, and therefore that each whale deserves individual sanctuary: a
claim considerably be- yond the demands of either conservation or the precautionary principle, which are concerned with species of whales.
What is missing from this analysis of whales as a ‘‘metaphor’’ is that whales and humans share a globe on which their interactions have been
complex and sophisti- cated. Undoubtedly, in the last 100 years, these interactions
have been especially brutal and
detrimental to the whales, but this is not universally or necessarily so. Whales and people can continue
to co-inhabit the globe, but better ways are needed to express the complex relation- ships that exist,
especially in indigenous socie- ties. As discussed earlier, in many of the current discussions about environmental issues at a
national and international level, people are not often treated or regarded as part of the biosphere and certainly not as part of biodiversity. Conservation of biodiversity is rooted in a subset of values drawn from broader cultural values, values that determine how we deal with nature.
Broadly speaking, these values remain uncom- fortably ambivalent as to the status of humans with respect to nature.
Imposing anti-whaling as an overriding moral argument delegitimizes nonWesternized cultures and is a form of cultural imperialism
Alexander Gillespie 1997, Professor of Law at the University of Waikato, legal and policy advisor to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and
Department of Conservation, worked for the UN“The Ethical Question in the Whaling Debate”
In light of the argument that whales are not uniquely special, and that conservation cannot be justified on scientific grounds, it has been
forcefully suggested that there is no justification, beyond cultural beliefs, that the whale is special and should be protected. This is the origin of
the injunction that whales¶ should not be killed, 138 and the lesser injunction that if they are to be killed, it should be done humanely. 139 Such
suggestions are seen as encroaching upon the rights of other cultures and cannot be justified, even if such practices may be offensive to others.
140 As
the anti-whaling arguments are seen as only cultural preferences, to impose them upon other
cultures is seen as imperialistic and unjustified. This is especially so in an age where the preservation of culture and the
enhancement of cultural diversity and pluralism is recognized as a legitimate and worthy pursuit by the international community, both
generally 14 1 and specifically within sustainable development.142 Taking this position one step further, some commentators and governments
have argued that as a result of cultural considerations, exemptions should be granted from other cultures' environmental norms. This has been
argued for the Inuit, Japanese, and Norwegians in the area of whaling,'43 and is assisted by the strong, historical and cultural
traditions
in whaling that would be violated if whaling was prohibited.'44 This argument was pursued by Japan at the 1993 IWC
meeting amid charges of ethnocentricism. Norway suggested that anti-whaling Western governments were "in fact
practicing cultural imperialism by dictating how [they] should behave."' 45 Finally, Indigenous Survival
International has suggested that any attempts to stop their whale hunting is akin to "cultural
imperialism,"' 146 because cultural rights have been dismissed "in favor of politically expedient animal
welfare agendas."' 147 This suggestion was made despite the fact that the Inuit are allowed to kill the bowhead whale, which is the only
whale threatened with actual, rather than commercial, extinction. 148
Western critique of anthropocentric mirrors anthropocentric value and is influenced
by racist, sexist and classist agendas
Greta Gaard 2001, Professor of English at University of Wisconsin-River Falls and a faculty member in Women’s Studies at Metropolitan
State University-Twin Cities, activist, scholar and documentary filmmaker on ecocriticism and ecocomposition, “Tools for a Cross-Cultural
Feminist Ethics: Exploring Ethical Contexts and Contents in the Makah Whale Hunt”, published in Hypatia Volume 16
Repeatedly, native writers and activists working with white feminists and environmentalists have urged us to “look to [our] own culture” (Smith
1991), and if an ecofeminist ethic is to be truly antiracist then it seems that this form of self-reflection is the first step. If
the ethical
question at issue is the hunting, killing, and eating of nonhuman animals, the First World practices of
sport hunting, factory farming, large scale cattle ranching and its attendant ecologi- cal degradation
(deforestation, water loss and degradation, soil erosion, ma- nure disposal) offer enough material to occupy most animal
rights activists, environmentalists, and ecofeminists for a few years to come. While an eco- feminist analysis would
resist a quantification of suffering that compares the twenty whales the Makah propose to kill (not exceeding five whales per year) to the
millions of animals killed in the same period of time through the prac- tices of industrialized food production, an ecofeminist critique would
certainly emphasize the differential power positions of the multinational corporations whose operations kill animals, and the hunting
operations of the two-thou- sand-member Makah tribe; this analysis would also interrogate how issues of race,
class, and gender
influence First World eco-activists in their choice of issues and opponents. Certainly these First World eco-activists
are better positioned to oppose the corporate practices that harm whales and whale habitat: for example, throughout a five-year battle,
environmentalists from Mexico and First World nations collaborated in persuading ESSA/Mitsubishi corporation to cancel plans for constructing
an industrial salt production facility in San Ignacio Lagoon, one of four southern breeding lagoons in Baja California, where the gray whales
return year after year because the warm, shallow waters are ideal for birthing and raising newborn calves (LaBudde 1998; Earth Island Journal
2000). Ecofeminists might also urge a form of self- reflective critique for those opponents of the Makah whale hunt: for instance, do these
protesters oppose all forms of fishing and hunting equally, or is there a hierarchy to their protest, such that the whale receives more
consideration than the trout? For it
appears that there may be a morally suspect preference for the rights of
intelligent mammals over less intelligent invertebrates, much like the rights-based ethic that many
ecofeminists have rejected as a form of anthropocentric moral extensionism. There may also be a desire to enjoy the
continued benefits of treaties through which the U.S. acquired its land, without fulfilling the responsibilities as promised in those treaties—an
imbal- ance that has a long history in North America.¶ But a tu quoque argument is not an adequate defense of indigenous whaling per se: the
oppressive practices of First World cultures, and their adverse effects on humans, animals and the earth, do not legitimate the initiation or
reintro- duction of arguably oppressive practices in other cultures. Therefore, in ad- dition to examining the ethics of one’s own cultural food
practices, an eco- feminist approach to understanding the ethics of the proposed Makah whale hunt would perceive both the
environmentalists-vs.-Makah conflict and the Makah-vs.-whale conflict as different aspects—the context and the content— of a larger ethical
narrative, and address each in turn.¶ Though feminist ethics has stressed the importance of context in ethical decisions, it has not sufficiently
foregrounded the ethical content as a distinct issue, such that ethical decision-making might include an exploration of all three aspects: the
ethical content, the ethical context, and the interaction between the two. Nor has feminist ethics considered situations involving various layers
of content and context, such that the ethical context in one layer of relationships becomes the ethical content in another. The usefulness of
such distinctions, particularly in matters involving cross-cultural ethics, can be immediately understood in addressing the Makah whale hunt.¶
First, native treaty rights are at issue in the ethical context of the Makah whale hunt, but the treaties themselves had both ethical contexts
(historical, environmental) and ethical contents (land, hunting rights, money). Because the boundary conditions for a feminist ethic include an
emphasis on both con- text and on the previously marginalized voices of subordinated others (Warren 1990), the
historical context of
European colonization and the feminist and ecofeminist commitment to ending domination all indicate that an
antiracist feminist and an ecofeminist ethic alike will offer support for native treaty rights. Of course, that support must be
contextual, not absolute: advocating the absolute support of treaty rights (or anything else, for that matter) is comparable to advocating the
unquestioning adherence to rules, without at- tention to context. However, in the last 150 years since the treaties were signed, the historical
context of European
colonialism and white racism has not been significantly transformed, and it is in this
context that native treaties, as well as Euro-American feminists and ecofeminists, continue to be located. So long as the
historical and contemporary context of treaty rights is colonialist and racist, antiracist feminists and ecofeminists will have at least two ethical
courses of action: supporting native treaty rights, and working to transform the context of white racism.¶ But treaties with native tribes also
presupposed an environmental context, and that context has changed dramatically. Tribal representatives often made treaties under duress,
hoping to safeguard the existence and way of life of their people. Today, it is easy to see that these treaties have shortchanged native people,
not only in terms of what was promised them, but also in view of the fact that native people may now be unable to collect on the goods or
materi- als that were guaranteed to them by law, in part because the environmental contexts for those treaties—an assumed constant—have
been reduced and degraded. How can treaty rights be upheld if the things that were promised to native people no longer exist? Anticipating
this problem, some tribes and native people are now using treaty rights as a way of protecting both native people and their environment
(Whaley and Bresette 1994), arguing that the rapacious practices of multinational corporations (the newest manifestation of colonialism) must
be stopped at the boundaries of native lands. These argu- ments articulate an understanding of treaty rights as promising not only an ethical
content (water, land) but an ethical, environmental context (clean water, forested land) as well. Following the example of these native activists,
an antiracist feminist and ecofeminist approach to native treaty rights would begin by restoring an understanding of both the ethical content
and the ethical context of the original treaty to all present-day interpretations. Such considerations of native treaties characterize the ethical
context of the Makah whale hunt.¶ For the gray whale, the ethical context of the Makah whaling petition has to do with the history and present
viability of this marine mammal as a species. Globally, the gray whale population stands at approximately 23,000 animals worldwide, with a
recovery rate of 2.6% per year (Shaiman 1998, 1; Tizon 1998b). There is some dispute among scientists as to whether these numbers are
sufficiently strong to have warranted the gray whale’s removal from the Endangered Species list; some fear that the whale was de-listed
prematurely, and that hunting of any kind will threaten the whale’s continued viability as a species, particularly if other indigenous tribes and
whaling nations follow through on their expressed intentions and file their own requests to initiate cultural whaling.3 But the gray whale is not
the only endangered species in this ethical context: feminist writers such as Pat Mora and Ana Castillo have suggested that indigenous people
are also an endangered species, a
metaphoric equation that reminds feminists to be suspicious of valuations that
give more ethical consideration to romanticized animals than to very unromantically oppressed humans
(Castillo 1994; Mora 1993). In the ethical context, then, the issue of endangered populations is of prominent concern. But in the ethi- cal
content it becomes clear that population numbers are a necessary but in- sufficient basis for moral consideration. For even if there were
“enough” (by whatever definition) gray whales—or Makah, or white middle class feminists —this quantity alone would not justify killing one of
them: the question for consideration in the ethical content, from an antiracist and antispeciesist standpoint, is whether a morally capable being
is ethically justified in killing another to satisfy non-subsistence needs. For the proposed whale hunt is no longer a subsistence hunt, but a
cultural one, and addressing this question involves the ethics of hunting.
Opposition to whaling practices on the behalf of the whales’ right to life become
tantamount to the imperialist rejection of Makan culture
Megan Glick 2013, Professor of American Studies at Wesleyan University, “Animal Instincts: Race, Criminality, and the Reversal of the
“Human””, American Quarterly, Volume 65
Greta Gaard makes a similar argument while addressing the 1990s contro- versy over the Makah tribe’s appeal to continue practicing the
cultural ritual of whaling in Seattle, where whaling for any purpose had been outlawed. Fol- lowing public discourse, Gaard notes, it would
seem that the
Makah’s desire to continue a cultural tradition stood against the interests of animal rights
activists who argued on behalf of the whales’ right to life. In this instance, activists’ opposition to Makah
whaling practices became tantamount to the rejection of Makah culture and identity, and it was
precisely this type of cultural imperialism that enabled certain Makah leaders to oppose the basis of the
local law. Yet, as Gaard avers, to assume that the practice of whaling is somehow endemic to Makah culture is to miss the complexity of
beliefs and interests within the culture itself. Not all Makah desire to whale; not all Makah believe that whaling is culturally necessary; and
many Makah are critical of the practice of whaling.12¶ The easy slippage between understanding a practice as having complex cultural meaning
versus understanding a practice as endemic, or essential to, a particular culture is at stake in many of the apparent conflicts identified between racial and ethnic minorities and animal rights and welfare activists. This slippage is responsible for ideological clashes between groups
and individuals who find various forms of animal rights and welfare discourse deeply imperialist in nature. Identifying how preexisting racism
and xenophobia toward Chinese immigrants were mobilized in anti–live animal market discourse, Kim asks an eerie question: “Are
anticruelty campaigns illegitimate if they benefit from, take advantage of, or even deepen majority
prejudices toward immigrant minorities? What if being racist is what enhances the ‘winnability’ of a campaign?”13 Such an
inquiry takes on special meaning in the current moment, when the idea of postracialism has captured the public imagination. To be sure, the
critique of animal practices has become one site of the articulation of suppressed racial ideologies in an
era where discourses of political correctness, multiculturalism, and a “black” presidency dominate mainstream
understandings of the dis/ location of race in the United States.
The whaling done by the Makan people is minimal and is ethical—animal rights
activists just use pro-whale rhetoric to endorse stereotypes and further colonial
domination
Peter
Staudenmaier 2005, History Professor at Marquette University, member of the Institute for Social Ecology, “Ambiguities of Animal
Rights”
Nowhere is this combination of parochialism and condescension more apparent than in the animus against hunting. Many
animal rights
enthusiasts cannot conceive of hunting as anything other than a brutal and senseless activity
undertaken for contemptible reasons. Heedless of their own prejudices, they take hunting for an expression of speciesist
prejudice. What animal rights theorists malign as ‘sport hunting’ often provides a significant seasonal
supplement to the diets of rural populations who lack the luxuries of tempeh and seitan.¶ Even indigenous
communities engaged in conspicuously low-impact traditional hunting have been harassed and vilified by
animal rights activists. The campaign against seal hunting in the 1980’s, for example, prominently targeted Inuit practices. (14) In the
late 1990’s, the Makah people of Neah Bay in the northwestern United States tried to re-establish their communal whale
hunt, harvesting exactly one gray whale in 1999. The Makah hunt was non-commercial, for subsistence
purposes, and fastidiously humane; they chose a whale species that is not endangered and went to
considerable lengths to accommodate anti-whaling sentiment.¶ Nevertheless, when the Makah attempted to embark on
their first expedition in 1998, they were physically confronted by the Sea Shepherd Society and other animal protection organizations, who
occupied Neah Bay for several months. For these groups,
animal rights took precedence over human rights. Many of
these animal advocates embellished their pro-whale rhetoric with hoary racist stereotypes about native
people and allied themselves with unreconstructed apologists for colonial domination and
dispossession. (15)¶ Such examples are far from rare. In fact, animal rights sentiment has frequently served as an
entry point for rightwing positions into left movements. Because much of the left has generally beenreluctant to think
clearly and critically about nature, about biological politics, and about ethical complexity, this unsettling affinity between animal rights and
rightwing politics — an affinity which has a lengthy historical pedigree — remains a serious concern.
Animal rights activism acts within a racialized sphere—
A. Only the privileged can access animal activism—it’s 97% white
Dr. Amie Breeze Harper 2010, PhD in Critical Food Geographies AT University of California- Davis, researches and speaks on how race, class,
gender and region affect one’s relationship to food, “Race as a ‘Feeble Matter’ in Veganism: Interrogating whiteness, geopolitical privilege, and
consumption philosophy of ‘cruelty-free’ products”, Women of Color in Critical Animal Studies (Journal for Critical Animal Studies)
AR: Animal Rights
Practitioners of veganism abstain from animal consumption (dietary and non-dietary). However, the culture of veganism itself is not a monolith and is composed of
many different subcultures and philosophies throughout the world, ranging from punk strict vegans for animal rights, to people who are dietary vegans for personal
Veganism is not just about the
abstinence of animal consumption; it is about the ongoing struggle to produce socio-spatial
epistemologies of consumption that lead to cultural and spatial change; it is about contesting the dominance of animalhealth reasons, to people who practice veganism for religious and spiritual reasons (Cherry, 2006; Iacobbo, 2006).
product consumption narrative that is central to, and dominant in, the socio- historical as well as present nation-building rhetoric of the United States. Within the
context of my interests in feminist geography, racial politics, and consumption studies, I have observed that mainstream
vegan outreach models
if ever, acknowledge such differing socio-historically racialized
epistemologies amongst the white middle class status quo and the collectivity of other racial groups, such as African Americans,
Chinese-Americans, or Native Americans. There is an underlying assumption amongst mainstream vegan media
that racialization and the production of vegan spaces are disconnected. However, space, vegan or not, is
raced (Dwyer and Jones, 2000; McKittrick, 2006; McKittrick and Woods, 2007; Price, 2009) and simultaneously sexualized and gendered (Massey, 1994; Moss,
2008) directly affecting individuals and place identities. How human beings develop their knowledge base is directly
connected to the embodied experiences of the places and spaces we navigate through. Scholars engaged in critical
and top selling vegan- oriented books rarely,
geographies of race claim that the world is entirely racialized. David Delaney, a geographer employing critical race theory asks, "What does it mean for geographers
to take this claim of a wholly racialized world seriously?" (Price, 2009). As a black feminist geographer and critical race theorist, I take seriously that racialized places
and spaces are at the foundation of how we develop our socio- spatial epistemologies; hence, these epistemologies are racialized. The
collective white
middle class USAmerican way of knowing and relating to space, and all the objects and life-forms that
occupy it, are connected to this demographics' physical and social placement within a racialized
hierarchy in whichthey are naturalized as normal, un-raced, universal, and the status quo; whiteness as
the norm is at center stage of USA's production of knowledge, space, and power. Furthermore,to people of
color, who are the victims of racism/white supremacy, race is a filter through which they see the world.
Whites do not look at the world through this filter of racial awareness, even though they also comprise a race. This privilege to ignore their race gives whites a
societal advantage distinct from any received from the existence of discriminatory racism. [Grillo and Wildman] use the term racism/white supremacy to emphasize
the link between the privilege held by whites to ignore their own race and discriminatory racism. (Grillo and Wildman 1995, 565)In this essay, I prefer to use the
terms whiteness and white privilege as synonyms for Grillo and Wildman's above explication of 'racism/white supremacy.' For critical race geographers, how do we
understand how whiteness functions as an epistemology within the power and production of space? In what ways do racialized geographies of exclusion/inclusion
influence nuanced and covert acts of whiteness and white privilege amongst the racial status quo? How
do these acts of covert whiteness
and white privilege manifest albeit- innocently and subconsciously- within spaces of veganism? Having lived in a racialized nation in
which this demographic's epistemologies and ontologies are primarily in center stage, white USAmericans are collectively unaware of how this center stage does not
reflect the reality of those who do not exist in such white privileged spaces of inclusion.Racialized spaces create racialized psychic spaces. Arnold Farr refers to this
as racialized consciousness, and it is a term that is much more useful to use within the context of those people
who do not fully understand that
they are engaging in covert acts of whiteness/white privilege racism, all while they simultaneously engage in
AR/VEG based social activism. Defined by African American philosopher Dr. Arnold Farr, racialized consciousnessreplace[s] racism as the traditional
operative term in discourses on race. The concept of racialized consciousness will help us examine the ways in which consciousness is shaped in terms of racist
social structures... ̳Racialized consciousness‘ is a term that will help us understand why even the well-intentioned white liberal who has participated in the struggle
against racism may perpetuate a form of racism unintentionally (Farr, 2004).Popular vegan-oriented literature in the USA such as Vegan: The New Ethics of Eating
(Marcus, 2001), Being Vegan in a Non-Vegan World (Torres and Torres, 2005), The Vegan Sourcebook (Stepaniak and Messina, 2000), and Becoming Vegan (Davis
and Vesanto, 2000), which are considered vegan bibles for the vegan status quo, do not deeply engage in critical analysis of how race (racialization, whiteness,
racism, anti-racisms) influence how and why one writes about, teaches, and engages in vegan praxis and ultimately produces vegan spaces to affect cultural change.
But what does it mean to be conscious of race when embarking on writing projects such as vegan-oriented research? This is part of a larger conversation on how
racialization, race, and whiteness functions/manifest within vegan spaces in white dominated nations.[ L]ike
the peace and environmental
movements, the AR movement is predominantly white and middle class. Andrew Rowan, a VP at the Humane Society of
the U.S., said surveys indicate the AR movement is "less than three percent" people of color. In April, 316 people from over 20
states attended the first Grassroots AR Conference in NYC, but the people of color caucus numbered only eight. If no one is racist, why is the movement largely
segregated? (Hamanaka, 2005)Similarly
to second wave USA feminism that falsely universalized the white middle
class heterosexual female experience as how all females experience social space, power, and struggle,
mainstream vegan rhetoric assumes the same. While veganism itself does create oppositional spaces of consumption that challenge the
standard spaces of American carnicentric diet, this essay will explore how mainstream veganpraxis simultaneously creates socio-spatial epistemologies of whiteness
that remain invisible to most white identified people.
B. Critique of anthropocentrism actualized leads to putting animal rights before
questions of race
Dr. Amie Breeze Harper 2010, PhD in Critical Food Geographies AT University of California- Davis, researches and speaks on how race, class,
gender and region affect one’s relationship to food, “Race as a ‘Feeble Matter’ in Veganism: Interrogating whiteness, geopolitical privilege, and
consumption philosophy of ‘cruelty-free’ products”, Women of Color in Critical Animal Studies (Journal for Critical Animal Studies)
Although many vegans
in the USA believe they are practicing "cruelty free" consumption by saving the life of
a non-human animal by eating vegan chocolate products, those who purchase non-fair trade cocoa
products may be causing cruelty to thousands of human beings. If a product is not marked in a way that indicates it was
harvested through fair and sweatshop-free practices, then how can one know that it is human-cruelty free? Who are the non-white
racialized populations who are harvesting chocolate, under conditions of cruelty that help certain3 USA
vegans practice modern ethics through vegan chocolate food consumption? Here‘s a hint: they are not white socioeconomic class privileged people living in the suburbs of the USA.¶ Since the beginning of European colonialism and the
European (and now USAmerican) pursuit of "civilizing" and "modernizing" the globe, those who have harvested chocolate,
coffee, cane sugar and tea, have been overwhelmingly non-white racialized groups of people (Mintz, 1986;
Harper, 2010). This pattern continues into 2010 (Gautier, 2007; Hunt, 2007). In my book, Sistah Vegan, I wrote about the harm produced by
USA‘s addictions to foodstuffs that are sourced from the global South:¶ In addition, our unmindful consumption of [un]foodstuffs are not only
harming and killing our own health in the United States of America; we are supporting the pain, suffering and cultural genocide of those whose
land and people we have enslaved and/or exploited for...sucrose, coffee, black tea, and chocolate too. Unless your addictive substances read
"Fair Trade" and "Certified Organic" on it, it is most likely supporting a company that pays people less than they can live off of while they work
on plantations that use toxic pesticides and or prohibit the right to organize for their own human rights...Is your addiction causing suffering and
exploitation thousands of miles a way on a sugar cane plantation, near a town that suffers from high rates of poverty and undernourishment,
simply because that land grows our "dope" instead of local grains and produce for them? We have confused our addictive consumption habits
with being "civilized" (Jensen, 2006). The British who sipped their sugary teas considered themselves "civilized", despite the torture and slavery
it took to get that white sugar into their tea cups (Harper, 2010).¶ I would also like to suggest that one cannot overlook the critical concept of
modernity (a.k.a. being "civilized") when analyzing how white racialized consciousness and white epistemologies of ignorance remain invisible
to "post-racial" vegans and animal rights proponents in the USA. Philosophically4,
people in AR/VEG activism can be best
described as being engaged in a form of "ethical consumption." However, within "ethical consumption,"¶
there are unspoken political assumptions associated with the practice. As Tamás Dombos described, in Hungary,
where ethical consumption is only beginning to appear, it is not simply about consuming ethically: it is also about
becoming modern [emphasis added]. Early campaigners for... [ethical consumption] come from Western Europe and the United States,
or are closely associated with such people, and a recurring theme in talk about ethical consumption is its association with an Occidentalized,
imagined West that Eastern Europeans ought to be emulating. It seems, then, that some ethical consumption cannot be understood without
seeing it as an embrace of a certain kind of modernity associated particularly with the EU (Carrier, 2007).
Framing
A crisis based approach is wrong – attention to isolated instances of warfare ignores
the daily horrors of structural violence – that’s the precondition for any war to occur
Cuomo 96 (PhD, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Department of Philosophy, University of Cincinnati
(Chris, Hypatia Fall 1996. Vol. 11, Issue 3, pg 30, wcp)
In "Gender and `Postmodern' War," Robin Schott introduces some of the ways in which war is currently
best seen not as an event but as a presence (Schott 1995). Schott argues that postmodern
understandings of persons, states, and politics, as well as the high-tech nature of much contemporary
warfare and the preponderance of civil and nationalist wars, render an eventbased conception of war
inadequate, especially insofar as gender is taken into account. In this essay, I will expand upon her
argument by showing that accounts of war that only focus on events are impoverished in a number of
ways, and therefore feminist consideration of the political, ethical, and ontological dimensions of war
and the possibilities for resistance demand a much more complicated approach. I take Schott's
characterization of war as presence as a point of departure, though I am not committed to the idea that
the constancy of militarism, the fact of its omnipresence in human experience, and the paucity of an
event-based account of war are exclusive to contemporary postmodern or postcolonial
circumstances.(1) Theory that does not investigate or even notice the omnipresence of militarism
cannot represent or address the depth and specificity of the everyday effects of militarism on women,
on people living in occupied territories, on members of military institutions, and on the environment.
These effects are relevant to feminists in a number of ways because military practices and institutions
help construct gendered and national identity, and because they justify the destruction of natural
nonhuman entities and communities during peacetime. Lack of attention to these aspects of the
business of making or preventing military violence in an extremely technologized world results in theory
that cannot accommodate the connections among the constant presence of militarism, declared wars,
and other closely related social phenomena, such as nationalistic glorifications of motherhood, media
violence, and current ideological gravitations to military solutions for social problems. Ethical
approaches that do not attend to the ways in which warfare and military practices are woven into the
very fabric of life in twenty-first century technological states lead to crisis-based politics and analyses.
For any feminism that aims to resist oppression and create alternative social and political options, crisisbased ethics and politics are problematic because they distract attention from the need for sustained
resistance to the enmeshed, omnipresent systems of domination and oppression that so often function
as givens in most people's lives. Neglecting the omnipresence of militarism allows the false belief that
the absence of declared armed conflicts is peace, the polar opposite of war. It is particularly easy for
those whose lives are shaped by the safety of privilege, and who do not regularly encounter the realities
of militarism, to maintain this false belief. The belief that militarism is an ethical, political concern only
regarding armed conflict, creates forms of resistance to militarism that are merely exercises in crisis
control. Antiwar resistance is then mobilized when the "real" violence finally occurs, or when the
stability of privilege is directly threatened, and at that point it is difficult not to respond in ways that
make resisters drop all other political priorities. Crisis-driven attention to declarations of war might
actually keep resisters complacent about and complicitous in the general presence of global militarism.
Seeing war as necessarily embedded in constant military presence draws attention to the fact that
horrific, state-sponsored violence is happening nearly all over, all of the time, and that it is perpetrated
by military institutions and other militaristic agents of the state. Moving away from crisis-driven politics
and ontologies concerning war and military violence also enables consideration of relationships among
seemingly disparate phenomena, and therefore can shape more nuanced theoretical and practical forms
of resistance. For example, investigating the ways in which war is part of a presence allows
consideration of the relationships among the events of war and the following: how militarism is a
foundational trope in the social and political imagination; how the pervasive presence and symbolism of
soldiers/warriors/patriots shape meanings of gender; the ways in which threats of state-sponsored
violence are a sometimes invisible/sometimes bold agent of racism, nationalism, and corporate
interests; the fact that vast numbers of communities, cities, and nations are currently in the midst of
excruciatingly violent circumstances. It also provides a lens for considering the relationships among the
various kinds of violence that get labeled "war." Given current American obsessions with nationalism,
guns, and militias, and growing hunger for the death penalty, prisons, and a more powerful police state,
one cannot underestimate the need for philosophical and political attention to connections among
phenomena like the "war on drugs," the "war on crime," and other state-funded militaristic campaigns. I
propose th2at the constancy of militarism and its effects on social reality be reintroduced as a crucial
locus of contemporary feminist attentions, and that feminists emphasize how wars are eruptions and
manifestations of omnipresent militarism that is a product and tool of multiply oppressive, corporate,
technocratic states.(2) Feminists should be particularly interested in making this shift because it better
allows consideration of the effects of war and militarism on women, subjugated peoples, and
environments. While giving attention to the constancy of militarism in contemporary life we need not
neglect the importance of addressing the specific qualities of direct, large-scale, declared military
conflicts. But the dramatic nature of declared, large-scale conflicts should not obfuscate the ways in
which military violence pervades most societies in increasingly technologically sophisticated ways and
the significance of military institutions and everyday practices in shaping reality. Philosophical
discussions that focus only on the ethics of declaring and fighting wars miss these connections, and also
miss the ways in which even declared military conflicts are often experienced as omnipresent horrors.
These approaches also leave unquestioned tendencies to suspend or distort moral judgement in the
face of what appears to be the inevitability of war and militarism.
Neglecting probability creates political gridlock and leads to serial policy failure
Sunstein ‘2 (Cass R. Sunstein, “Probability Neglect: Emotions, Worst Cases, and Law”, Distinguished
Service Professor, University of Chicago, Law School and Department of Political Science,
http://www.yalelawjournal.org/pdf/112-1/SunsteinFINAL.pdf, wcp)
How should we understand human behavior in cases of this sort? My principal answer, the thesis of this
Essay, is that when intense emotions are engaged, people tend to focus on the adverse outcome, not on
its likelihood. That is, they are not closely attuned to the probability that harm will occur. At the
individual level, this phenomenon, which I shall call “probability neglect,” produces serious difficulties of
various sorts, including excessive worry and unjustified behavioral changes. When people neglect
probability, they may also treat some risks as if they were nonexistent, even though the likelihood of
harm, over a lifetime, is far from trivial. Probability neglect can produce significant problems for law and
regulation. As we shall see, regulatory agencies, no less than individuals, may neglect the issue of
probability, in a way that can lead to either indifference to real risks or costly expenditures for little or
no gain. If agencies are falling victim to probability neglect, they might well be violating relevant law.5
Indeed, we shall see that the idea of probability neglect helps illuminate a number of judicial decisions,
which seem implicitly attuned to that idea, and which reveal an implicit behavioral rationality in
important pockets of federal administrative law. As we shall also see, an understanding of probability
neglect helps show how government can heighten, or dampen, public concern about hazards. Publicspirited political actors, no less than self-interested ones, can exploit probability neglect so as to
promote attention to problems that may or may not deserve public concern. It will be helpful to begin,
however, with some general background on individual and social judgments about risks. A. Cognition On
the conventional view of rationality, probabilities matter a great deal to reactions to risks. But emotions,
as such, are not assessed independently; they are not taken to play a distinctive role.6 Of course, people
might be risk-averse or risk-inclined. For example, it is possible that people will be willing to pay $100 to
eliminate a 1/1000 risk of losing $900. But analysts usually believe that variations in probability should
matter, so that there would be a serious problem if people were willing to pay both $100 to eliminate a
1/1000 risk of losing $900 and $100 to eliminate a 1/100,000 risk of losing $900. Analysts do not
generally ask, or care, whether risk-related dispositions are a product of emotions or something else. Of
course, it is now generally agreed that in thinking about risks, people rely on certain heuristics and show
identifiable biases.7 Those who emphasize heuristics and biases are often seen as attacking the
conventional view of rationality.8 In a way they are doing just that, but the heuristicsand- biases
literature has a highly cognitive focus, designed to establish how people proceed under conditions of
uncertainty. The central question is this: When people do not know about the probability associated
with some risk, how do they think? It is clear that when people lack statistical information, they rely on
certain heuristics, or rules of thumb, which serve to simplify their inquiry.9 Of these rules of thumb, the
“availability heuristic” is probably the most important for purposes of understanding risk-related law.10
Thus, for example, “a class whose instances are easily retrieved will appear more numerous than a class
of equal frequency whose instances are less retrievable.”11 The point very much bears on private and
public responses to risks, suggesting, for example, that people will be especially responsive to the
dangers of AIDS, crime, earthquakes, and nuclear power plant accidents if examples of these risks are
easy to recall.12 This is a point about how familiarity can affect the availability of instances. But salience
is important as well. “The impact of seeing a house burning on the subjective probability of such
accidents is probably greater than the impact of reading about a fire in the local paper.”13 So, too,
recent events will have a greater impact than earlier ones. The point helps explain much risk-related
behavior. For example, whether people will buy insurance for natural disasters is greatly affected by
recent experiences.14 If floods have not occurred in the immediate past, people who live on flood plains
are far less likely to purchase insurance.15 In the aftermath of an earthquake, the proportion of people
carrying earthquake insurance rises sharply—but it declines steadily from that point, as vivid memories
recede.16 For purposes of law and regulation, the problem is that the availability heuristic can lead to
serious errors of fact, in terms of both excessive controls on small risks that are cognitively available and
insufficient controls on large risks that are not.17 The cognitive emphasis of the heuristics-and-biases
literature can be found as well in prospect theory, a departure from expected utility theory that explains
decision under risk.18 For present purposes, what is most important is that prospect theory offers an
explanation for simultaneous gambling and insurance.19 When given the choice, most people will reject
a certain gain of X in favor of a gamble with an expected value below X, if the gamble involves a small
probability of riches. At the same time, most people prefer a certain loss of X to a gamble with an
expected value less than X, if the gamble involves a small probability of catastrophe.20 If expected utility
theory is taken as normative, then people depart from the normative theory of rationality in giving
excessive weight to lowprobability outcomes when the stakes are high. Indeed, we might easily see
prospect theory as emphasizing a form of probability neglect. But in making these descriptive claims,
prospect theory does not specify a special role for emotions. This is not a puzzling oversight, if it counts
as an oversight at all. For many purposes, what matters is what people choose, and it is unimportant to
know whether their choices depend on cognition or emotion, whatever may be the difference between
these two terms. B. Emotion No one doubts, however, that in many domains, people do not think much
about variations in probability and that emotions have a large effect on judgment and
decisionmaking.21 Would a group of randomly selected people pay more to reduce a 1/100,000 risk of
getting a gruesome form of cancer than a similar group would pay to reduce a 1/200,000 risk of getting
that form of cancer? Would the former group pay twice as much? With some low-probability events,
anticipated and actual emotions, triggered by the best-case or worst-case outcome, help to determine
choice. Those who buy lottery tickets, for example, often fantasize about the goods associated with a
lucky outcome.22 With respect to risks of harm, many of our ordinary ways of speaking suggest strong
emotions: panic, hysteria, terror. People might refuse to fly, for example, not because they are currently
frightened, but because they anticipate their own anxiety, and they want to avoid it. It has been
suggested that people often decide as they do because they anticipate their own regret.23 The same is
true for fear. Knowing that they will be afraid, people may refuse to travel to Israel or South Africa, even
if they would much enjoy seeing those nations and even if they believe, on reflection, that their fear is
not entirely rational. Recent evidence is quite specific.24 It suggests that people greatly neglect
significant differences in probability when the outcome is “affect rich”—when it involves not simply a
serious loss, but one that produces strong emotions, including fear.25 To be sure, the distinction
between cognition and emotion is complex and contested.26 In the domain of risks, and most other
places, emotional reactions are usually based on thinking; they are hardly cognition-free. When a
negative emotion is associated with a certain risk—pesticides or nuclear power, for example—cognition
plays a central role.27 For purposes of the analysis here, it is not necessary to say anything especially
controversial about the nature of the emotion of fear. The only suggestion is that when emotions are
intense, calculation is less likely to occur, or at least that form of calculation that involves assessment of
risks in terms of not only the magnitude but also the probability of the outcome. Drawing on and
expanding the relevant evidence, I will emphasize a general phenomenon here: In political and market
domains, people often focus on the desirability of the outcome in question and pay (too) little attention
to the probability that a good or bad outcome will, in fact, occur. It is in such cases that people fall prey
to probability neglect, which is properly treated as a form of quasi-rationality.28 Probability neglect is
especially large when people focus on the worst possible case or otherwise are subject to strong
emotions. When such emotions are at work, people do not give sufficient consideration to the likelihood
that the worst case will actually occur. This is quasi-rational because, from the normative point of view,
it is not fully rational to treat a 1% chance of X as equivalent, or nearly equivalent, to a 99% chance of X,
or even a 10% chance of X. Because people suffer from probability neglect, and because neglecting
probability is not fully rational, the phenomenon I identify raises new questions about the widespread
idea that ordinary people have a kind of rival rationality superior to that of experts.29 Most of the time,
experts are concerned principally with the number of lives at stake,30 and for that reason they will be
closely attuned, as ordinary people are not, to the issue of probability.
Neg
Whaling DA
Allowing the Makah to hunt indiscriminately will open the floodgates for international
whaling, decimating whale populations.
Metcalf 2000 (Representative Jack Metcalf from the 2nd District of Washington “Allowing Whale-Hunting
By Makah Indian Tribe Will Promote Commercial Whaling Worldwide” February 8th, 2000.
http://capitolwords.org/date/2000/02/08/H239-10_allowing-whale-hunting-by-makah-indian-tribe-will/ accessed from Capitol Worlds on 7/21/14 .nt)
Madam Speaker, last year I filed an appeal, along with several co-plaintiffs, to overturn the decision
made by U.S. District Court Judge Franklin Burgess to allow whaling by the Makah Indian tribe. Today a
three-judge panel from the Ninth Circuit United States Court of Appeals in Seattle heard the case, and I
hope they will make the correct decision and stop the outdated and unnecessary practice of whaling by
the Makahs. Everyone who understands this issue knows that this is the first step toward returning to
the terrible commercial exploitation of these marine mammals. In the papers filed by the Makahs with
NOAA, they refused to deny that this was a move toward renewal of commercial whaling. It is important
to understand that the International Whaling Commission has never sanctioned the Makah whale hunt.
Under the International Whaling Convention, of which the United States is signatory, it has only been
legal to hunt whales for scientific or aboriginal subsistence purposes. The tribe clearly has no nutritional
need to kill whales. In the face of strong IWC, the International Whaling Commission, opposition to the
original Makah proposal, the U.S. delegation ignored years of opposition to whale-killing and cut a deal
with the Russian government in a backdoor effort to find a way to grant the Makah the right to kill
whales. The agreement is to allow the Makah tribe to kill four of the whales each year, that is, to allow
the tribe, the Makah tribe to kill four whales each year from the Russian quota, under the artifice of
cultural subsistence. Before this back room deal, the United States has always opposed any whaling not
based on true subsistence need. Cultural subsistence is a slippery slope to disaster. It will expand whalehunting to any nation with an ocean coastline and any history of whale-killing. Much to the delight of
the whaling interests in Norway and Japan, who have orchestrated and financed an international
cultural subsistence movement, America's historic role as a foe of renewed whaling around the world
has now been drastically undercut. In fact, there are hundreds of ethnic groups, tribes, and bands
around the world who have a history of hunting whales. To allow a cultural past as a qualification for
hunting whales would drastically increase the number of whales killed worldwide. Almost all cultures on
seacoasts engaged in some whale-hunting historically. The treaty signed by the Makah tribe in 1885 only
gives them the right to hunt in common with the citizens of the territory, now the citizens of the United
States. This provision was to ensure equal rights, not special ones. The Makah tribal government should
not be allowed to kill whales when it is illegal for anyone else in the United States to do so. Besides, it is
just plain dead wrong. It is shameful that the current administration supports a proposal that flies in the
face of the values, interests, and desires of the majority of U.S. citizens. As I have been saying for years,
allowing the Makah tribe to continue whaling will open the floodgates to commercial whaling
worldwide. Just count on it. Whales do have commercial value, and there are interests just waiting to
cash in, as they did in the glory days of worldwide commercial whaling, when the whales were hunted
practically to extinction. Now that we have allowed whaling to begin again, what can we say to Japan
and Norway, whose whaling we have opposed for years but who definitely have aboriginal rights going
back many centuries? I support the Makah elders and others who oppose this hunt, and will continue to
fight in the courts and in Congress to stop the spread of the barbaric practice of killing whales.
Fem K 1NC
Women are silenced in the name of nationalism and cultural whaling—the affirmative
endorses hierarchical masculinity
Greta Gaard 2001, Professor of English at University of Wisconsin-River Falls and a faculty member in
Women’s Studies at Metropolitan State University-Twin Cities, activist, scholar and documentary
filmmaker on ecocriticism and ecocomposition, “Tools for a Cross-Cultural Feminist Ethics: Exploring
Ethical Contexts and Contents in the Makah Whale Hunt”, published in Hypatia Volume 16
Historically, whale hunting was not a universal practice in Makah tribal society; rather, it was limited to
individuals of a specific class, gender, and ethnicity. According to reports of ethnologists and early
European explorers, as well as later anthropological studies, traditional Makah society was divided into
three classes: slaves, commoners, and chiefs (Colson 1953, 15, 202–3; Swan 1857). The slaves were
captured in war or purchased from other tribes, and were therefore seen as aliens to the village; their
children were also slaves, and no slaves were permitted to “intermarry” with free-born Makah (Colson
1953, 202). Early explorers reported that the Makah “prostituted their slave women to ships crews from
the beginning of contact with Europeans in 1790” (Colson 1953, 57), but it is unclear whether free-born
Makah made sexual use of slave women as well, since such intercourse would run the risk of creating
offspring, and “any degree of slave blood was a permanent stigma against a family line. . . . [T]he word
‘slave’ was a stinging insult” (Colson 1953, 202). The second class of Makah, the commoners of the
village, were descendants of the junior lines of the extended family, but they were not wealthy and had
to work for their living. At the top of the social hierarchy were the chiefs, wealthy leaders who owned
smokehouses, held potlatches, bore important names, and were famous among the tribes to which the
Makah were known. Some re- ports say that the status of chief was solely hereditary, while others claim
that even hereditary members had to justify their status through great deeds, such as whale hunting, or
otherwise fall into the class of commoners. Only men from wealthy families could afford to organize and
direct a whale hunt, since only the chiefs had the time and wealth needed for the ritual preparations
and for making the equipment, and the inherited privilege necessary for leading whaling crews of male
relatives or slaves (Kirk 1986; Kirk and Daugherty 1978). During the hunt, whalers’ wives were expected
to help from shore by lying motionless in a darkened room (Waterman 1920; Erikson 1999): as one
whaler’s wife recalls, “her utter stillness was intended to keep the whale from acting in an unruly
manner” (Kirk 1986, 138). A single whale successfully towed into the village provided “vast amounts of
oil, bone, and meat—and prestige. No families received more deference than that accorded whalers’
families” (Kirk and Daugherty 1978, 90). The desire for high social status and respect may explain why
Elizabeth Colson, an anthropologist who interviewed the Makah in the 1940s, was told by virtually every
one of her informants that while their own family was of upper-class status, descended from chiefs,
other families were from low-class ancestors (Colson 1953, 205–18). It may also explain why, eighty
years after the last successful whale hunt, the Makah have come to equate their cultural identity with
the most famous practice of their elite, upper-class male ancestors.¶ Tribes and nations struggling to
reject colonialism and colonized identities often see the reassertion of nationalism and national or tribal
identities as a vital strategy in the struggle for self-determination. In her study of interna- tional politics
and the legacies of colonialism, Cynthia Enloe finds that “na- tionalism typically has sprung from
masculinized memory, masculinized hu- miliation and masculinized hope” (1989, 44). Women’s
experiences are rarely taken as the starting point for understanding colonization or for reasserting
national and cultural autonomy. Instead, women in nationalist movements are pressured to “be
patient,” “hold their tongues,” and “to wait until the nationalist goal is achieved” (Enloe 1989, 60, 62).
Enloe’s analysis sharply illuminates the Makah tribe’s efforts to reassert cultural identity after more than
a century of colonization, in both its emphasis on the whale hunting practices of elite upper-class men,
and the tribe’s current practices of silenc- ing the dissenting voices of women elders who oppose the
renewed hunt. A descendant from a whale-hunting family of chiefs and treaty-signers, Makah elder
Dotti Chamblin had initially protested that “shooting a whale with a machine gun is not a spiritual way”
and that “no one in this village has a direct relationship with the whale any longer” (Hogan 1996). Long
before Alberta Thompson began working with the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, both women
elders were ostracized and denied services from the tribe. Thompson was even called a “slave” by
Makah tribal council vice chair Marcy Parker and fisheries director Dave Sones (Hogan 1996). These
women elders who have spoken out in defense of a more traditional ecological ethic and cultural identity have been silenced in the name of Makah cultural whaling and a new tribal identity that is both
masculinist and elite.
The whale hunting system is based in a patriarchal concept of society that mirrors the
values of the tribe—any importance of women revolves around their relation to the
“headman”
Renker 2012 *Ann M. Renker received her Ph.D. in anthropology from The American University in
Washington, D.C. in 1987. Her dissertation focused on the grammar of the Makah language. Since 1980,
she has conducted fieldwork and household surveys on the Makah Reservation, has published articles
about the Makah Tribe, and has spoken about her work at national and international conferences. A
resident of the reservation since 1986, she has also been an expert witness for the Tribe since 1994., The
article is “Whale Hunting and the Makah Tribe: A Needs Statement,
http://iwc.int/private/downloads/ds5fzaq2p14w88ocko00o4gcw/64-ASW%204.pdf*
The highly stratified nature of the Makah social system was a ¶ mirror of the status and structure
involved in the entire ¶ process of the whale hunt. From ceremonial preparation, to the ¶ hunt itself, to
the ultimate acts of butchering and ¶ distribution, Makah whaling actualized the social organization ¶ of
Makah society. The man who acted as the harpooner for a crew ¶ was the chief, or headman, of a
particular social group, usually ¶ the residents of a single longhouse. He owned the longhouse, ¶ the
whaling canoe and the equipment. This man also retained the ¶ largest burden of ceremonial
preparation. These two factors, a ¶ large degree of physical wealth and a close relationship with ¶ the
supernatural, translated into power for the whalers in ¶ everyday life. ¶ Whalers, or headmen, were
ranked at the top of the pyramid of ¶ social standing which existed within a single longhouse. Each ¶
resident was affiliated with the headman in some way; this ¶ affiliation became the basis for ranking
each individual within ¶ a residence group. Whaling generated a base from which these ¶ relationships
were constantly reviewed and reinforced. A ¶ successful headman could offer prestige, protection and ¶
resources to the kin and non-kin residents of his longhouse. A ¶ headman who experienced consistent
failure, ostensibly because ¶ of poor preparation and ineffective supernatural connections, ¶ could lose
status within his household, and lose non-kin ¶ residents as a result. The loss of these residents often ¶
translated into a loss of physical wealth and social prestige ¶ for a headman.¶ The anthropological
literature tends to concentrate on the role ¶ of high-status men in the whale hunt. Makah oral history
and ¶ articles like Gunther (1942) demonstrate that women played an ¶ important social, ceremonial
and practical role in the whale ¶ hunt complex. Men, for example, were not the only ones affected ¶ by
relationship between the whale hunt and social status. The ¶ women who married whalers dominated
the top of the female analog ¶ to the male status pyramid. These women, like their male ¶
counterparts, found their lives governed by the concept of ¶ primogeniture. While whalers tended to be
the oldest son of the ¶ oldest son of a whaler, the whaler’s wife tended to be the ¶ oldest daughter of
an oldest daughter of a whale hunter. ¶ Matches between the oldest son of one whaler and the oldest ¶
daughter of another were the ultimate social goal of whaling ¶ families. These alliances united two
powerful, wealthy families, and insured that consolidated social, ceremonial, and ¶ political power
would be transmitted to another privileged ¶ generation; this procedure is common to historical and ¶
contemporary royal families.
Patriarchal whale hunting practices and conflated with the identity of an entire
culture—only an ecofeminist examination can break down this strategic essentialism
Greta Gaard 2001, Professor of English at University of Wisconsin-River Falls and a faculty member in
Women’s Studies at Metropolitan State University-Twin Cities, activist, scholar and documentary
filmmaker on ecocriticism and ecocomposition, “Tools for a Cross-Cultural Feminist Ethics: Exploring
Ethical Contexts and Contents in the Makah Whale Hunt”, published in Hypatia Volume 16
Certainly, the construction of gender is not homogeneous, but changes repeatedly based on such
variables as cultural and historical context. Feminists and ecofeminists seeking to avoid gender
essentialism in negotiating ideas and values cross-culturally have stressed the importance of thinking
about issues of gender in conjunction with issues of class, ethnicity, and sexual orientation. Yet these
attempts to avoid gender essentialism sometimes result in cultural essentialism, as in the definition of
Western and Non-Western cultures. As Uma Narayan observes, the contrast between “Western” and
“Non-Western” cultures was a “politically motivated construction” that functioned as both a rationale
and a mandate for colonialism, defining the self of Western culture in sharp opposition to the NonWestern Other (Narayan 1998). Yet this con- trast obscured the “profound similarities between Western
culture and many of its Others, such as hierarchical social systems, huge economic disparities between
members, and the mistreatment and inequality of women” (1998, 89–90). Like Enloe, Narayan observes
the way that anti-colonial nationalist movements have embraced even stereotypical facets of their own
cultures in order to make strategic nationalist arguments. Unfortunately, both “Western” and “NonWestern” feminists have also tended to homogenize “Non-West- ern” cultures even while arguing
against “Western” imperialism. Often, cultur- ally essentialist feminist representations of “Third World”
or “Non-Western” cultures will “depict the practices and the values of privileged groups as those of the
‘culture as a whole’” (Narayan 1998, 90–91). In the case of the Makah, the whale hunting practices of a
certain elite group of men have been conflated with the practices and substituted for the identity of an
entire culture. Indeed, the dominant group of the Makah may be seen as using a form of strategic
essentialism to achieve their goals.¶ But this strategy subordinates women and animals, two
marginalized groups of concern to ecofeminism. While analyses of ethnicity, class, and gender can be
used to avoid cultural essentialism and to understand the oppression of the Makah women elders, these
analyses are only relevant in understanding hu- man cultures. Unlike the women elders, the gray whales
are not members of the Makah tribe; rather, they belong to themselves, and to their own society of
marine mammals. While there may be some debate about the limits of cross- cultural ethics in regard to
cultural practices involving two members of the same cultural group, there can be less certainty about a
group’s ethical basis for continuing cultural practices that require the lives of non–tribal members.
Perhaps the practice would seem more defensible if the non-members were to give their consent, but
this consent cannot be determined: on the one hand, Makah whaling advocates claim that the whale
will “give” itself to the most skillful hunter; on the other hand, animal rights activists working with the
Sea Shepherd Society sent boats and cameras to Neah Bay to record the struggles and death cries of the
hunted whales as proof of the whales’ dissent and resistance. In either case, of course, the consent or
dissent of the whale will come too late.¶ In sum, then, an ecofeminist perspective on the ethical content
of the Makah whale hunt reveals this proposal as one that advances the dominant perspective of a
marginalized culture at the expense of certain women (the dissenting Makah elders) and animals (the
gray whales). Just as some white feminists have focused on their own gender oppression and thereby
overlooked their racial privilege and their role as oppressors, so too have some native people focused on
their racial and cultural oppression and thereby overlooked their potential role as oppressors of other
humans and animals. Certainly, feminists and ecofeminists are right to be concerned when it appears
that our support of marginalized cultures requires the subordination of feminist and ecofeminist values
and goals. Antiracist feminists and ecofeminists will not be good allies if we offer unqualified support to
native people at the expense of our own values and beliefs: instead, “a functioning antiracist—one who
can pass ‘competency tests’ as an antiracist—must be an actively thinking antiracist, not just a white
robot ‘programmed’ to repeat what [racially non-dominant others] say” (Harding 1991, 291).
Considering the ethical contexts and con- tents of situations such as the Makah whale hunt is a strategy
that allows feminists and ecofeminists to become “actively thinking antiracist[s]” in our responses to
complexly layered ethical problems
Anthro K 1NC
The affirmative prioritizes human culture over the lives of the lost whales. To not
value the suffering of the whales is anthropocentric and this suffering must precede
the question of human benefit
Robert Garner 2013, Professor of Politics and International Relations with a primary focus on political
representation of non-human interests, “Animal ethics and the work of the International Whaling
Commission”
From the perspective of anthropocentric conservationism, since the intrinsic value of animals is not
recognised, their protection depends entirely upon whether it is in the interests of humans to do so. For
example, the need to conserve whale stocks was, at least for the whaling nations, the reason behind the
moratorium on commercial whaling which, as an indirect consequence, has protected at least some
whales. An indirect duty ethic also justifies protecting whales on aesthetic grounds as in the case of
whale watching. In addition, of course, there are economic benefits to be had from facilitating whales
being seen.¶ In theory, few philosophers would deny now that we owe at least something to animals
directly. What we do to them, in other words, matters to them and not just to those humans with a
vested interest in their protection. Such a position derives from the widespread recognition, deriving
initially from Bentham’s utilitarianism (1948), that animals are sentient, that they can suffer, and that
they therefore have an interest in avoiding suffering, independently of human interests. The evidence
that some animals are sentient, coupled with the ethical claim that we have an obligation to avoid
causing them unnecessary suffering, forms the basis of the animal welfare ethic.¶ In practice, the
acceptance of the animal welfare ethic has led to the introduction of animal welfare laws in most
developed countries which limit what can be done to animals in the pursuit of human gain in a variety of
spheres (Garner 2004). Not only has this animal welfare ethic come to predominate within many
countries. It is also increasingly the basis for international agreements involving animals — see, for
instance, the animal welfare guidelines of the World Organisation for Animal Health (OIE 2009; Chapter
7.5).¶ Significantly, too, the recognition that whales can suffer, and that this suffering matters morally
because it is in the interests of whales to avoid it, has informed the work of the IWC itself in its
deliberations on such issues as ship strikes and entanglements in fishing gear (Johnson et al 2005). These
issues do not just affect whale conservation but also the individual welfare of whales. Indeed, the
decisions made on whale entanglements reveal that, in some circumstances, it is accepted that welfare
concerns should be prioritised over conservation. For example, at the IWC meeting in Agadir, Morocco
in 2010, the report of a workshop on welfare issues (originally proposed by Norway) associated with
euthanasia and the entanglement of large whales was endorsed. This report accepted that, in some
circumstances, euthanasia is often the most appropriate option because it is the most humane option
(IWC/62/15 2010).¶ Given that principles of animal welfare are widespread, consis- tency would
therefore seem to demand that these principles play a larger role in the deliberations of the IWC,
including in the debate about whaling. To fail to do so makes the IWC look rather anachronistic morally.
This does not mean, of course, that whaling should necessarily be prohibited on ethical grounds. Rather,
the application of an animal welfare ethic to whaling would require us to weigh up the costs to whales
against the benefits to those who seek to catch them.
The alternative is to write in the place of the whales hunted by the Makah people. We
can never be spokespersons for animals, but we can raise attention to those animals
that no are no longer living, those unaccounted and unnamed.
Collard 13—Geography Department at the University of British Columbia
(Rosemary-Claire, “Apocalypse Meow”, Capitalism Nature Socialism, 24:1, 35-41, dml)
‘‘A true political space,’’ writes Swyngedouw (2010b, 194), ‘‘is always a space of contestation for those
who are not-all, who are uncounted and unnamed.’’ This true political space necessarily includes*if only
by virtue of their exclusion*animals, the ‘‘constitutive outside’’ of humanity itself. How we respond to
this dynamic ought to be a central question of critical scholarship and philosophizing. To be a
philosopher, says Deleuze in the ‘‘A for Animal’’ entry to the ‘‘abecedary’’ (L’abe´ce´daire de Gilles
Deleuze 1989), ‘‘is to write in the place of animals that die.’’ This is still an imperfect way of describing
my objective (for one thing, I am also interested in animals that are still alive), but it is an improvement
over being a ‘‘spokesperson’’ for animals, which are often characterized as speechless and may be
rendered more so having spokespeople appointed to speak on their behalf. To write in the place of
animals that die seems a preferable, though still fraught, characterization.
This paper is therefore written in the place of those uncounted and unnamed non-subjects of political
space, the animals that die, the nonhumans, the hundreds of millions of animals that are ‘‘living out our
nightmares’’ (Raffles 2010, 120): injected, tested, prodded, then discarded. We have denied, disavowed,
and misunderstood animals. They are refused speech, reason, morality, emotion, clothing, shelter,
mourning, culture, lying, lying about lying, gifting, laughing, crying*the list has no limit. But ‘‘who was
born first, before the names?’’ Derrida (2008, 18) asks. ‘‘Which one saw the other come to this place, so
long ago? Who will have been the first occupant? Who the subject? Who has remained the despot, for
so long now?’’ Some see identifying this denial as a side-event, inconsequential, even sort of silly. The
belief in human superiority is firmly lodged and dear to people’s hearts and senses of themselves. It also
seems a daunting task, not a simple matter of inserting the excluded into the dominant political order,
which as Z ˇ izˇek (1999) writes, neglects how these very subversions and exclusions are the order’s
condition of being.
Anthro links
It is anthropocentric to not weigh the suffering of the whales in cost-benefit analysis
of whaling practices—we have an obligation to avoid this suffering that precedes
questions of human benefit
Robert Garner 2013, Professor of Politics and International Relations with a primary focus on political representation of non-human
interests, “Animal ethics and the work of the International Whaling Commission”
From the perspective of anthropocentric conservationism, since
the intrinsic value of animals is not recognised, their
protection depends entirely upon whether it is in the interests of humans to do so. For example, the need to
conserve whale stocks was, at least for the whaling nations, the reason behind the moratorium on commercial whaling which, as an indirect
consequence, has protected at least some whales. An indirect duty ethic also justifies protecting whales on aesthetic grounds as in the case of whale
watching. In addition, of course, there are economic benefits to be had from facilitating whales being seen. ¶ In theory, few philosophers would deny now that we
owe at least something to animals directly. What we do to them, in other words, matters to them and not just to those humans with a vested interest in their
protection. Such a position derives from the widespread recognition, deriving initially from Bentham’s utilitarianism (1948), that animals
are sentient,
that they
can suffer, and that they therefore have an interest in avoiding suffering, independently of human interests. The
have an obligation to avoid causing them
unnecessary suffering, forms the basis of the animal welfare ethic.¶ In practice, the acceptance of the animal welfare ethic has led to the introduction
evidence that some animals are sentient, coupled with the ethical claim that we
of animal welfare laws in most developed countries which limit what can be done to animals in the pursuit of human gain in a variety of spheres (Garner 2004). Not
only has this animal welfare ethic come to predominate within many countries. It is also increasingly the basis for international agreements involving animals — see,
for instance, the animal welfare guidelines of the World Organisation for Animal Health (OIE 2009; Chapter 7.5). ¶ Significantly, too, the
recognition that
whales can suffer, and that this suffering matters morally because it is in the interests of whales to avoid
it, has informed the work of the IWC itself in its deliberations on such issues as ship strikes and entanglements in fishing gear (Johnson et al
2005). These issues do not just affect whale conservation but also the individual welfare of whales . Indeed, the
decisions made on whale entanglements reveal that, in some circumstances, it is accepted that welfare concerns should be prioritised over
conservation. For example, at the IWC meeting in Agadir, Morocco in 2010, the report of a workshop on welfare issues (originally proposed by Norway) associated
with euthanasia and the entanglement of large whales was endorsed. This report accepted that, in some circumstances, euthanasia is often the most appropriate
option because it is the most humane option (IWC/62/15 2010). ¶ Given
that principles of animal welfare are widespread, consistency would therefore seem to demand that these principles play a larger role in the deliberations of the
IWC, including in the debate about whaling. To fail to do so makes the IWC look rather anachronistic morally. This does not mean, of
course, that whaling should necessarily be prohibited on ethical grounds. Rather, the application of an animal welfare ethic to whaling
would require us to weigh up the costs to whales against the benefits to those who seek to catch them.
The once unsustainable levels of whaling have shown recovery—only the moratorium
allows a balance of regulation that can lead to the long-term preservation of whales
Peter Bridgewater 2003, Secretary General for the Convention on Wetlands of International Importance and was the Australian
Commissioner to the International Whaling Commission from 1990-1997 and also a commissioner on the Independent World Commission on
the Oceans from 1995-1998, “Whaling or wailing?”
The International Whal- ing Commission was esta- blished under the 1946 International Convention for the Regulation of
Whaling (ICRW), which enshrined an attempt to ensure that the gross over-¶ exploitation of great whales which
occurred in the 1930s was not repeated when commercial whaling resumed after the Second World War. The ICRW had, as its
twin objectives: the proper conservation of whale stocks, so as to make possible the orderly development of the whaling industry. Needless to
say, the subsequent emer- gence of ethical concerns as well as clear
evidence of unsustainable levels of hunting has
transformed the relation between these objec- tives and considerably modified the thrust of the regulatory framework.
From the 1960s, as certain species of whales were protected, national bans were implemented in some states with whaling industries, and
sanctuaries were created in the Southern and the Indian Oceans, the balance of the utilitarian calculus shifted. In parallel, the calculus itself was
challenged by the arguments that no
humane method of killing whales was available and, more radically, that whales
were inherently special and therefore inappropriate for consumptive use by humans. Since the introduction of the moratorium on whaling by the IWC in 1982, populations of many species have shown an ability to
recover, although the blue whale is still in very low numbers. Bryden (1993) shows, however, that the situation is much more complex
ecologically than had previously been thought.¶ Yet the regulatory framework itself has remained essentially unchanged, even as the objectives
to which it needs to respond have become more complex. The focus within the IWC has shifted progressively towards exclusive consideration
of the conservation of whale stocks, and the most recent meetings might indeed suggest a movement towards complete deadlock.
Specific culture cannot be put before ethical choices—justifies sexism and racism
Alexander Gillespie 1997, Professor of Law at the University of Waikato, legal and policy advisor to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and
Department of Conservation, worked for the UN“The Ethical Question in the Whaling Debate”
It is necessary to make three points with regard to the above arguments. First, at the moment there may be a choice between interfering with a
way of life of an important and distinct culture, or allowing the extinction of a species. If
a species is on the verge of extinction
and the choice is between killing it off completely in he present because it is important for a culture to do
so,'4 9 or allowing it to survive and perhaps recover in the distant future, then surely the culture will also
be saved for the future. To kill off a species now in the name of cultural tradition is to kill off the culture.
The tradition either dies completely now, or continues in a different form. The choice for the culture should not be
hard. The choice for the ecosystem or specific animal is much easier. 150 The survival of entire species and ecosystems should override such
considerations.¶ Second, the fact that earlier colonial cultures ruthlessly exploited Nature does not give cultures with a traditional interest in
the exploitation of Nature the right to finish off the job. Even
if cultures do 'respect' the environment or the individual
entity they are about to destroy,' s' that does not matter to the specific¶ aspect of Nature they are
destroying. 152 Finally, just because something is derived from, or common within, culture¶ does not make it
ethically defensible. Indeed, cultural relativism cannot be considered an absolute excuse for any actions
that cultures may wish to condone. There are standards of morality which are, or should be seen as
universal. For without recourse to certain universal aspirations, genocide, slavery, cannibalism, infanticide, female
circumcision, racism, and sexism would all have to be tolerated. These are deemed ethically repugnant
because it is believed that certain ethical norms are higher than cultural relativism. 153 The same
argument exists for certain anthropocentric actions, irrespective of culture, which disrupt or destroy
parts of non-human Nature.' 5" Thus, culture should not be seen as a panacea for environmental destruction, nor for that matter,
environmental protection.'
Whaling is anthropocentric and the protection measures set by the ICW are the only
limit to over-exploitation
Alexander Gillespie 1997, Professor of Law at the University of Waikato, legal and policy advisor to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and
Department of Conservation, worked for the UN“The Ethical Question in the Whaling Debate”
Whaling is one of the oldest known areas of over-exploitation of Nature.' Indeed, as the preamble of the
International Convention on the Regulation of Whaling2 notes, the "history of whaling has seen the over-fishing of one area after another and
of one species of whale after another." 3 Consequently,
it was necessary to establish an international authority that
could conserve4 whale species where other attempts had failed.5 Accordingly, the International Whaling Commission (IWC)
was created 6 to "protect all species of whales from further over-fishing." 7 Unfortunately, the IWC was unsuccessful in its
early attempts to conserve whales, and rather, was even exploitative in its operations. For example, for the first fifteen years of its operation,
the IWC imposed few restrictions on whaling, with kills reaching 64,000 in the 1960/1961 season alone. 8 Such totals were often imposed upon
whale species which were known to be severely depleted. Any attempts at conservation were defeated within the IWC, as
the Commission was controlled by nations primarily concerned with maximizing the economic returns from whaling, not maintaining the
'resource' itself. In opposi- tion to this ethos, a rigorous campaign of protest against the worldwide slaughter of whales grew out of the 1960s.9
This developed such momentum that a resolution was called for to draft a moratorium on whaling at the 1972 Stockholm Conference.'o¶
Although proposals for a moratorium within the IWC were defeated in 1972" and 1973, the IWC began to change its tack and the non-whaling
States' conservation interests began to clash openly with the whaling States' economic interests. Slowly, the
anti-whaling nations
gained the upper-hand within the IWC and a series of substantive whale protection measures were
achieved. The crowning success arrived with the Thirty-Fourth meeting of the IWC and the well known 1982 Moratorium on
all commercial12 whaling.13
Culture-centered human societies exclude non-human life from decision-making
calculus
Rafi
Youatt 2008, Assistant Professor at the New School, PhD in Political Science, MA in International Relations,
“Rethinking Anthropocentric Politics”, presented speech at Political Theory Workshop
The politics in “international environmental politics” is widely assumed to be a human activity. Although it is very much a politics “about” the
environment or “about” particular nonhuman entities, politics
is not understood to be something that humans ever
engage in “with” nonhumans. It is not, I will argue, reasonable that this anthropocentric assumption about
politics should always hold true, particularly when it comes to ecological matters where the well-being of nonhumans are part of
what is at stake. For both normative and empirical reasons, I suggest that we should think of the political as an interspecies
domain, in which human politics (and other species-specific politics) is only one component.¶ First, there are some
grounds for rethinking anthropocentric politics within IR as a discipline, which since the early 1990s, has been
involved in a critical re-evaluation of what politics means. RBJ Walker suggests, for example, that the very enterprise of international relations
as scholarship involves “variations on a question about the location and character of what we mean by the political under contemporary
conditions.”1 Given the fact that “contemporary conditions” very much include a serious set of environmental problems at a wide variety of
global and international scales, it seems to me that the IR endeavor should involve asking not only about the challenge that transboundary¶
2environmental problems pose to state sovereignty,2 the particular difficulties involved in getting effective international cooperation over the
global commons,3 and the importance of transnational environmental politics in creating global public spheres,4 but also the extent to which
the anthropocentric character of politics itself is an issue, and whether the “location and character” of politics may be changing in an ecological
sense (i.e., across species lines).¶ A second reason to reconsider this
assumption relates to the organizing distinctions
between society and nature, or between culture and nature, that underlie a humans-only politics. Environmental
political theorists (especially those arguing from biocentric and ecocentric perspectives) have offered a strong, if somewhat oversimplified, challenge to modern anthropocentrism, suggesting that its hyper-emphasis on human
uniqueness as a marker of moral difference lies behind a variety of modern environmental ills.5 On these
accounts, a dualistic view of humans/nature has positioned humans (who have culture, politics, reason, abstract
thinking, ethics, morality) in a position to dominate nature (as passive, inert object, devoid of meaning and agency) in
instrumental terms. While they acknowledge humans do have unique capabilities (as, indeed, do other biotic entities), they argue that these
capacities should not form a foundational point of exclusion from moral or political standing. Instead,
biocentrists and ecocentrists have suggested that all living things are morally considerable, not in virtue of whether their capacities are like
human capacities, but rather, in virtue of the intrinsic value of self-directed life.6 This
argument leads to a call both for greater
environmental protection and for a perspective that takes nonhuman life and ecological webs of relationships more directly
into account in human decision-making.
The idea that meat eating is central to a culture is flawed and eurocentric
Deckha 7 – Assistant Professor, Faculty of Law, University of Victoria, Canada (Maneesha, 2007 “Animal
Justice, Cultural Justice: A Posthumanist Response to Cultural Rights In Animals” Animal L. & Ethics)
First, to suggest as Wenzel and Lynge do that Inuit seal hunting should be accepted because it is crucial
to Inuit subsistence culture removes culture from the realm of the ethical. This is as problematic from
a postcolonial animal justice perspective as removing nature from politics or basing ethics on
biologism or ideas of the so-called natural. 147 Such a position assumes that because a practice is
culturally crucial it is irreproachable. The logical extension of such a position would mean that all
practices are beyond criticism, because we have always existed as cultural beings. In saying this I do not
mean to dismiss this invocation of cultural relativism as quickly as cultural relativists usually do. 148 Nor
do I mean to discount the importance of cultural survival and self-determination for Aboriginal peoples.
Yet, recognizing the skewed cultural playing field does not necessarily mean abstaining from criticism.
We encounter several conceptual problems if we construct cultural differences, or any other difference,
as beyond scrutiny. A primary conceptual problem in immunizing culture involves authenticity. Receiving
marginalized voices as truth-claims, as Wenzel and Lynge advocate, creates a new brand of authenticity
problems. First, any resort to "cultural traditions" must grapple with the constructedness of traditions
and their partly imagined nature. Lisa Stevenson has noted how the organization of "disparate Inuit
groups in the Canadian Arctic" into the territory of Nunavut meant that Inuit "literally had to imagine
themselves as a people, unified partially through their difference from the rest of Canada," claiming a
common, unified future in the Arctic in a way that "would have been unthinkable" in the past. 149 And
while the reality that cultural rights are based on imagined identities may not lead to an ethical
conundrum, it does raise the question of who is excluded by the identity that is imagined? What are the
threshold characteristics one needs to possess before one counts as an authentic cultural voice? For
example, if hunting, sealing, and trapping are integral to establishing Inuit identity, is the Inuit person
who does not engage in these practices and has never been "on the land" not or less Inuit? 150 Even if
an unproblematic concept of authenticity could be reached based not on identity but on similarly
circumscribed material life conditions, we would still encounter a second problem: if we equate
marginalized experience with truth do we not assign Others a set of narrative authorities that enjoy
immunity from the collective process of judgment? Moreover, how will we ever reconcile
incommensurate stories within marginalized groups if we cannot question experience?15 1
Anthro-Alt Solvency
Through the alternative, we assume a traitorous identity. The dynamics of privilege
position us all as both oppressors and the oppressed. The proper response must be to
critique and work against the structures of human culture. This is not based off
denying our identities or claiming unity with the oppressed, but it does mean we
adopt an ethic that attempts to minimize our own domination.
Plumwood 2 – (Val, “Environmental Ethics”, p.205-6)
There are, I have suggested, multiple bases for critical solidarity with nature. One important critical basis
can be understanding that certain human societies position humans as oppressors of non-human
nature, treating humans as a privileged group which defines the non-human nature, in terms of roles
that closely parallel our own roles as recipients of oppression within human dominance orders. Our
grasp of these parallels may be based upon imaginative or narrative transpositions into locations
paralleling that of the oppressed non-human other: artistic representation has an important place in
helping us make such transpositions. Literature has often played such a transposing role historically,
especially in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, in relation to the class system, slavery,
women’s oppression, and animal oppression. In recent decades science fiction narrative that
imaginatively position humans as colonized or exploited reductively as food by alien invaders have
provided very powerful vehicles for such imaginative transpositions into a place that parallels that of the
non-human food animal. So have those cartoonists whose ‘absurd’ humour depends upon exploiting
parallels in the condition of the human and non-human oppressed. A chicken coming from a human
house carrying a baby passes a women coming from a chicken coop carrying a basket of eggs, for
example. A Larson elephant is outraged when he notices the ivory notes on a piano keyboard at an
interspecies party and makes the connection to the fate of his own kind. The leap of recognition that is
often described and explained in terms of an unanalysed and capricious emotion of ‘empathy’ or
‘sympathy’ is often better understood in terms of a concept of solidarity that is based on an intellectual
and emotional grasp of the parallels in the logic of the One and the Other. Since most people suffer from
some form of oppression within some dominance order or other, there is a widespread basis for the
recognition that we are positioned multiply as oppressors or colonizers just as we are positioned
multiply as oppressed and colonized. This recognition that one is an oppressor as well as an oppressed
can be developed in certain cirvumstances to become the basis for the critical ‘traitorous identity’
which analyses, opposes and actively works against those structures of one’s own culture or group that
keep the Other in an oppressed position. Traitorous kinds of human identity involve a revised
conception of the self and its relation to the non-human other, opposition to oppressive practices, and
the abandonment and critique of cultural allegiances to the dominance of the human species and its
bonding against non-humans, in the same way that male feminism requires abandonment and critique
of male bonding as the kind of male solidarity that defines itself in opposition to the feminine or to
women, and of the ideology of male supremacy. These ‘traitorous identities’ that enable some men to
be male feminists in active opposition to androcentric culture, some whites to be actively in opposition
to white supremacism and ethnocentric culture, also enable some humans to be critical of ‘human
supremacism’ and in active opposition to anthropocentric culture. “Traitorous’ identities do not appear
by chance, but are usually considerable political and personal achievements in integrating reason and
emotion; they speak of the traitor’s own painful self-reflection as well as efforts of understanding that
have not flinched away from contact with the pain of oppressed others. What makes such traitorous
identities possible is precisely the fact that the relationship between the oppressed and the ‘traitor’ is
not one of identity, that the traitor is critical of his or her own ‘oppressor’ group as someone from
within that group who has some knowledge of its workings and its effects on the life of the oppressed
group. It depends on the traitor being someone with a view from both sides, able to adopt multiple
perspectives and locations that enable an understanding how he or she is situated in the relationship
with the other from the perspective of both kinds of lives, the life of the One and the live of the Other.
Being a human who takes responsibility for their interspecies location in this way requires avoiding both
the arrogance of reading in your own location and perspective as that of the other, and the arrogance of
assuming that you can ‘read as the Other’ know their lives as they do, and in that sense speak or see as
the other. Such a concept of solidarity as involving multiple positioning and perspectives can exploit the
logic of the gap between contradictory positions and narratives standpoint theory applies to. The
traitorous identity implies a certain kind of ethics of support relations which is quite distinct from the
ethics involved in claiming unity. It stresses a number of counter-hegemonic virtues, ethical stances
with can help to minimize the influence of the oppressive ideologies of domination and self-imposition
that have formed our conceptions of both the other and ourselves. As we have seen, important among
these virtues are listening and attentiveness to the other, a stance which can help counter the
backgrounding which obscures and denies what the non-human other contributes to our lives and
collaborative ventures. They also include philosophical strategies and methodologies that maximize our
sensitivity to other members of our ecological communities and openness to them as ethically
considered beings in their own right, rather than ones that minimize ethical recognition or that adopt a
dualistic stance of ethical closure that insists on sharp moral boundaries and denies the continuity of
planetary life. Openness and attentiveness are among the communicative virtues we have already
discussed; more specifically, they mean giving the other’s needs and agency attention, being open to
unanticipated possibilities and aspects of the other, reconceiving and re-encountering the other as a
potentially communicative and agentic being, as well as ‘an independent creature of value and
originator of projects that demand my respect’. A closely allied stance, as Anthony Weston points out, is
that of invitation, which risks an offering of relationship to the other in a more or less open-ended way.