Niqipiaq, relationships and conservation in the Arctic

The Arctic is often portrayed in terms of its most iconic elements—sea ice, polar bears, Indigenous Peoples. But from the point of view of the Iñupiat, who have long inhabited northern and northwestern Alaska, it is the connections among these that matter most. The Iñupiat live these connections through niqipiaq, or real food, which brings people together to harvest, prepare, share and eat, sustaining both community and way of life. CORINA QAAĠRAQ KRAMER, CANA ULUAK ITCHUAQIYAQ, and HENRY P. HUNTINGTON share their perspectives.

Henry’s first research project on Indigenous Knowledge, years ago, looked at beluga whales. While he was interviewing several Elders in western Alaska, they started talking about beavers. Henry was a bit puzzled about what beavers had to do with belugas until one Elder explained that the beavers were damming streams where the fish that the belugas ate went to spawn. Henry hadn’t considered such connections until that moment.

For Corina and Cana, on the other hand, this idea was hardly surprising. Understanding such connections is central to their Iñupiaq knowledge and culture.

Connections in behaviour

A truism holds that western societies tend to think about objects, whereas Indigenous Peoples think about the relationships between them. This is certainly true among the Iñupiat in Corina and Cana’s homelands in northwestern Alaska.

A deep understanding of connections—as in the relationship between beluga whales and beavers—has allowed people to thrive here for millennia, and it remains at the core of the Iñupiaq way of life today, with much to offer to conservation efforts.

The importance of ecological connections is now well understood in institutional science and conservation. Polar bears eat seals, which eat fish, which eat plankton—and both bears and seals need sea ice and snow to make dens for resting and giving birth.
Connections in movement and behaviour.

The Iñupiat also recognize connections in behaviour. The first caribou or whales that migrate along a given route or corridor establish a pathway that others will follow. Disturbing those who are making the path will disrupt the migration, whereas letting the first ones pass undisturbed will allow hunters to harvest the animals that later travel a predictable route.

Clearly, understanding and respecting animals’ behavioural needs is just as important as paying attention to food webs, habitats and their connections.

Real food

Connections also include humans as part of the natural world, and for the Iñupiat, these particular connections are understood most clearly through niqipiaq, which means real food.

When Corina’s son harvests his first beluga, he will give it away, as is customary—a reminder that hunting is not about individual gain, but about our connection to animals and the community. A beluga harvest is never just the moment on the water. Families prepare together, travel together, and return home, where the work continues—cutting, sharing and putting the meat away—before the celebration of eating together. It is spiritual in nature.

Everyone has a role: children learning by watching and helping, adults working with skill and care, Elders guiding with knowledge and experience.

 

These connections extend beyond the present moment. For the Iñupiat, they link our ancestors to us and us to our children. Through these practices, we hold on to something shared across generations in Iñupiaq life—a lived connection that continues each time food is harvested, prepared and shared.

In this way, conservation is not only about sustaining animal populations, but about sustaining the knowledge, practices and relationships that make harvesting possible. In other words, we ensure conservation by practising it together.

Living our values

In those moments, the Iñupiat live the values that make them who they are: humility, sharing, cooperation, respect for Elders, love for children, spirituality, hard work, hunter success and respect for nature. Harvesting is not extraction, but part of conservation—grounded in gratitude and humility—and shown in how we work together, share and care for what gives itself so we may live.

Harvesting also keeps the Iñupiat connected to the land and each other. These are not only Iñupiaq values lived out, but lessons about connection—paying attention to relationships, nurturing our bodies, families and communities, and understanding that actions ripple across people, animals and environments.

For his part, Henry has learned over time to look beyond isolated parts, to listen, and to understand his work as part of a larger system of relationships. Others can learn this too, carrying it forward in how they do research, build partnerships and make decisions.

For the Iñupiat, conservation is not an activity. It is a way of being: living as complete humans, connected to one another and to a healthy world that we all depend on—and that depends on how we choose to live our values.