Indigenous Life in the Thawing Tundra
As climate change’s effects intensify even earlier than we all thought possible, the Arctic Circle faces twice the environmental changes than the rest of the world. The albedo effect, or the gradual reduction of earth’s reflectiveness to heat as polar ice melts, has endangered all communities in icy climates, as glaciers melt at an exponentially increasing rate. Norway anticipates more droughts, intense precipitation, more plant diseases and pests, ocean acidification, and overall rising temperatures. Just last winter, Norway witnessed the warmest January day in recorded history; the village of Sunndalsora recorded the highest temperature of 19°C (66°F), more than 25°C above the monthly average.
The effects of the phenomena are more physically visible every year. It is brought up in conversation, mentioned in the media, in the minds of innovative engineers, and on rally signs all over the world. However, Indigenous groups are often neglected in the conversation of climate change and conservation efforts. Although they only steward 20% of their historical lands, they protect about 80% of the world’s biodiversity. With their astute knowledge of sustainability and respect for nature, they contribute the least to climate change, yet Indigenous communities are the most vulnerable due to location and lack of representation in policy-making spaces.
Indigenous voices are too often left out of conservation. Many groups have enriched their culture for thousands of years, each having its unique take on aspects such as spirituality, agriculture, language, and architecture. Native nations exist as pockets of vibrant sources of knowledge and traditional practices, all of which depend on the soil they live on. As a result of climate change, each biome delivers its own sets of struggles, and the tundra is particularly vulnerable to a near-future transformation.
As one of the very few Indigenous communities in Europe, the Sámi have experienced major changes in their environment, and their cultural practices have suffered as a result. As a collective of roughly 80,000 people, they are located in Sápmi: a land that takes up parts of northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and western Russia. Vocalizing their observations of the change in weather, an interviewed reindeer herder for “Global Health Action” claimed, “It went like from −20°C to +2 °C in just a few hours, but then it went back down again. This kind of uneven temperature is something that you think has started to occur more recently-these sudden shifts in temperature...”
Much of the Sámi’s customs center around reindeer herding. However, present day temperatures go above freezing point more often, and rainfall occurs when it would normally snow. Precipitation turns into ice and makes it exhausting for reindeer to retrieve their main food source, lichen, in the ground. As a result of snow changes, reindeer populations are suffering and herding fails to stay an integrative part of Sámi culture and a method of food production.
Like the majority of Indigenous cultures, the Sámi people are known to have a deep spiritual connection with nature. They see the land as sacred and have marked holy sites on stones, springs, and caves.They believe both animate and inanimate objects have a soul, contributing to a “one-with-the-Earth” mindset that makes the Sami more appreciative of the natural resources around them. Another Scandinavian native expresses his devotion towards his craft to the EJ Foundation saying, “The day you are leaving this life, you won’t take anything with you. Everything that you have earned in a lifetime will stay here. I hope folks start thinking. And I think it’s the only way that we’re going to change anything at all.”
Why is preserving the Sámi’s culture so critical? Why should we be mindful towards Indigenous communities all over the world? From a moral standpoint, society must remember who is at fault for the shifts in ecological systems. The Sámi have relied solely off of the tundra, coastal, and taiga lands they have inhabited for thousands of years, all in an environmentally-conscious manner. The economies that lie outside of their pod huts pollute the air and water that we all share, and they are forced to watch their traditional way of life slowly melt away.
The Sámi offers something money can never buy: “Traditional Ecological Knowledge”, or “TEK” for short. They have passed down ecological knowledge and practices for thousands of generations, each individual building on the last. . The Sámi have built their livelihoods around nature, and their linguistics heavily reflect so. Language has equipped the Sámi to categorize snow types and specify the quality of natural resources. They also have a rich index of vocabulary regarding reindeer and their various colors, fur textures, antler spreads, and sizes. Their TEK is displayed with their own set of vernacular concerning multiple sectors of the tundra. This reinforces the fact that their climate knowledge is practically used in their daily lives. The Sámi’s existing database on snowfall, reindeer, plant biodiversity, and insect migration remains applicable for researchers, and the collaboration of both knowledge centers can be used to approach the effects of climate change in Arctic regions with educated responses and alternative perspectives.
Their “Traditional Ecological Knowledge” was not always valued by others. It was not until the middle of the 20th century that the Sámi were properly accepted by their surrounding nations and their culture was celebrated instead of condemned. Starting in the 1650s, they were forced to give up their land to the forestry, farming, and mining industries. Their holy sites were destroyed and they lost the freedom to practice their own culture on their own land. Even today, Norway’s wind farm industry clashes with the reindeer’s spatial movement, contributing to the many ways government identities have warred against the Indigenous peoples.
Even though many still depend on farming, forestry, freshwater fishing, mining, and mountaineering, 9 out of 10 of the Sámi people now predominantly live in modern homes, and they are increasingly assimilated into Scandinavian’s professional, cultural, and academic world.
Over the past few decades, there has been an uproar from the public demanding more independence for the Sámi, specifically for land rights. Their lives remain intertwined with nature, which has prolonged the tension between the Indigenous group and government forces. Though the support is limited, countries in Scandinavia now offer the community legal protections. The past 40 years have been a revival period, and the Sámi are recovering from a time of societal neglect.
The Sámi is just one example of the countless Indigenous communities that deserve to be heard and their culture preserved. Their holistic knowledge systems should serve as invaluable perspectives of the natural world, and the sustainable practices that have passed down and improved on for generations should be more widely integrated in order to avoid eroding ramifications in our ecosystems.
Many Indigenous people live in areas that are being heavily affected by extreme weather conditions and flooding due to climate change, and rely on natural resources that are rapidly depleting. Native nations will be impacted more than any other demographic, yet they are the ones who have contributed least to the devastating environmental distortions we are currently witnessing in 2020.
It is imperative for us to turn our ears towards those who directly experience climate change and practice the sustainable methods that can lead the world towards a more environmentally-conscious future, one where nature and civilization can exist cohesively.
