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Delivery Into Thralldom
They changed their tune when reports of gold filtered south from Nome and Fairbanks at the turn of the century. Some prospectors came with a pack and left with a bundle. The 1916 copper rush in Cordova was equally ruthless. The mines closed 20 years later, depleted. Only the fish—salmon, herring and halibut—kept the local economy going.
World War II changed the pattern. With the construction of big military bases at Dutch Harbor, Kodiak, Fairbanks and Anchorage, Alaska became more than a massive map sprinkled with names full of harsh ks and ts. Americans actually had to stay there. On Attu, they fought the second bloodiest battle of the Pacific war (549 American, 2,350 Japanese dead), and the only one on U.S. soil. Nor did peace close the bases. Because Alaska lay close to Russia, the Arctic shore soon sprouted heavily instrumented DEW line stations.
The huge defense investment delivered Alaska into Washington's thrall. Although the fishing and wood-pulp industries were greatly strengthened in the mid-1950s, they did little to alter the flimsy, somewhat colonial economy. Even the discovery of medium-sized oilfields around the Kenai Peninsula and the achievement of statehood in 1959 barely made a difference. Among the few changes was the rising influence of Japan, which now takes 95% of Alaska's exports of minerals, wood and liquefied natural gas. Japan is also investing heavily in Alaska fisheries, pulp mills and mines. But Washington maintains the military bases, accounts for almost 50% of civilian employment, and controls 97% of the land.
The U.S. Forest Service, for example, still sells off timbering rights, most recently in the Tongass and Chugach national forests. The Bureau of Land Management fights Alaska's grim forest fires; four years ago, one fire consumed a tract as large as Massachusetts. The Coast Guard protects the Alaskan fishing industry from constantly marauding Japanese, Russian and South Korean fishermen. As if to symbolize Washington's dominance, the Federal Building in Juneau is a huge glass-and-steel cube that literally overshadows the rambling old stone statehouse.
Though Alaskans pay lip service to free enterprise, they take government handouts for granted. Perhaps only in Alaska would a Governor confidently ask his legislature to spend $120 million to build a road for a private industry. Besides, Washington has helped to solve some of Alaska's persistent problems. Unfortunately, far more remains to be done.
Who Really Owns It?
One pressing problem involves Alaska's 57,000 Aleuts, Eskimos and Indians—one-fifth of the population. These natives are probably the U.S.'s poorest citizens. Their average life expectancy is 35 years; the village schools go no higher than the eighth grade. Spread over the state in 200 filthy, littered villages, they have little to do with the economy. Instead, they are patronized. "The typical Eskimo family," a joke runs, "consists of one father, one mother, three children, two anthropologists, one social worker, one economic-development specialist and two counselors."
What the natives need for survival and dignity is land, and Congress must soon resolve the legal