Death of a Whale: The Challenge of Anti-Whaling Activists and Indigenous Rights

By Captain Paul Watson

CAPTAIN PAUL WATSON IS NO STRANGER TO CONTROVERSY. But this particular conflict was more personal than most. His latest book is a fascinating and thought-provoking account of what happened when anti-whaling activists found themselves at odds with tribal rights. Conservationists, eco-warriors, whale protectors, and supporters of Indigenous traditions—as well as anyone who simply loves a good story—will find themselves captivated by this tale.

DEATH OF A WHALE: The Challenge of Anti-Whaling Activists and Indigenous Rights narrates the events as they unfolded. In 1998, Sea Shepherd began a campaign to protect gray whales from slaughter by members of the Makah tribe of the Pacific Northwest, who had recently invoked cultural entitlements to allow them to practice their ancestral hunting rights. Makah members, conservationists, and non-Indigenous Americans vehemently expressed disparate points of view about whether tribal whaling operations, which had ended almost a century earlier, should be recognized, even when they were not in accord with international Indigenous whaling regulations.

This electrifying, real-life adventure story showcases an Indigenous community at odds with itself, governments and media that advance their own agendas, and grassroots organizers who display heroic activism. Highly detailed and documented, the book reveals Captain Watson’s deep and unwavering respect for Indigenous traditions and rights, even when they conflict with his own devotion to the sovereignty of whales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GroundSwell Books
• Release date: Jul 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781570678103

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

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© 2021 by Paul Watson

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means whatsoever, except for brief quotations in reviews, without written permission from the publisher.

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Dedicated to the memory of Alberta Binki Thompson. The words Koditcheeot hitÁktÁkxe are in the language of the Ko-Ditch-eeot, which means people living at the cape or cape dwellers. The name Makah was mistakenly applied to the tribe during treaty negotiations with the US government, as officials misunderstood the Salish names other tribes called them. HitÁktÁkxe means power, as in the type of power an individual spiritually receives. Alberta Binki Thompson was a Makah woman who was given the power to defend the che-che-wid, which is the Ko-Ditch-ee-ot word for gray whale.

This book is also dedicated to the two women who were arrested and injured while defending the whales from the Makah whalers, Erin Abbott and Julie Woodyer.

Preface

Foreword: Red Tide by Robert Hunter

CHAPTER 1The Spirit of Aumanil

CHAPTER 2A Harpoon to Slay One Thousand Whales

CHAPTER 3Idi:gawé:sdi

CHAPTER 4The High Road to Scotland

CHAPTER 5A Whale of a Crapshoot in Monte Carlo

CHAPTER 6Autumn of the Che-che-wid

CHAPTER 7The Death of Yabis

CHAPTER 8Victory for the Whales

CHAPTER 9Twenty Years of Peace on the Cape

CHAPTER 10The Death of a Myth

Resources and References

Index

Preface

Ibegan writing this book in 1999, but in 2000, after writing six chapters, I decided to sit on it because this is history, and I felt that some time had to pass before the book could be properly completed. It is now twenty-two years since that one whale died in May 1999, and although the controversy continues, the issue can be now viewed in a more sobering light.

In writing this book, I of course realize that I may be throwing gasoline on the embers of that controversy, but I do feel it is time to relate the story of Sea Shepherd’s opposition to the killing of whales by the Makah Nation of the Pacific Northwest of the United States. I led that opposition, and in doing so, I knew I would be inviting criticism and condemnation, including accusations of racism and ethnocentrism.

The perception by many was that we were opposing the cultural practices of a small Native American tribe. We were accused of being insensitive to the traditions of the Makah and even of being insensitive to American Native culture in general. We were not. The issue was complex, and it was not a simple cowboy-and-Indian fantasy that the Seattle media tried to make it into. It was, in fact, about two completely different points of view, and those points of view were not defined by race or culture.

It was a clash between people who wanted to kill whales and people who opposed the killing of whales. There were Makah tribal members who wanted to kill whales and Makah tribal members who opposed the killing of whales. In fact, there were people in both camps from various and diverse backgrounds. There were Native Americans plus non-Native Americans on both sides. There were conservationists on both sides. There were people sympathetic to Native American culture and traditions opposing the killing of the whales, and there were people who were engaged in defending whales who were also supporting the Makah position that they had the legal right to kill whales.

Because of my longtime association with the causes of Native American rights, I lost a few friends over this campaign, and in some circles I was labeled anti-Native. Although that did cause me some concern, it all came down to the fact that I had no choice but to defend the whales from their would-be killers, no matter what justification these killers might wish to use to defend the activity.

Since 1975, I have sworn to defend whales and dolphins from any and all humans intent upon killing them and to do so without discrimination as to the culture, race, or economic position of those intent upon doing so. Quite simply, I equate the killing of cetaceans with murder, and for murder there can be no justification.

My reason for intervening was simple: There are internationally agreed-upon regulations dealing with whaling and, specifically, with Indigenous whaling operations. The Makah whalers were not in compliance with those regulations.

It was my position then, as it is today, that we had no choice but to do the campaign. Failure to oppose whaling would entail discrimination on our part. We could not treat the Makah whalers any differently than the Faroese, Icelandic, Norwegian, or Japanese whalers. The Faroese claimed Indigenous rights and yet we opposed them. The Japanese, although supporting the Makah position that killing whales was an Indigenous right, have banned the Indigenous Ainu people of Japan from killing whales.

It has always been my position that Sea Shepherd must act to oppose any whaling activity that is conducted outside of the authority of the International Whaling Commission, no matter by whom, where, or for what reason. It would have been hypocritical and, frankly, quite racist for us to have exempted the Makah whalers. We also knew that the whalers did not represent the views of all the Makah people, many of whom were opposed to killing whales, especially many of the elders.

We initiated the campaign for the whales in accordance with our objectives to intervene against unlawful whaling activities. I stand by that position twenty-six years later, just as I did when we first became involved in the campaign in 1995. This is my account of real events, told to the best of my recollection. As such, I stand by this book and the story of our successful campaign to oppose and stop the plan by the Makah whalers and the Makah tribal council to resurrect the whaling operations that they had ended almost a century earlier.

Foreword

by robert Hunter

The late Robert Lorne Hunter was the author of Occupied Canada . This widely acclaimed book about injustices to Native Canadians was the recipient of the Canadian Governor General’s Literary Award for Non-fiction in 1991. Hunter was also a cofounder and the first president of Greenpeace Foundation. Before his death in 2005, Hunter was the ecology reporter for Citytv in Toronto. His book Red Blood , published in 1999, was a humorous account of his experiences working with Native Canadians as a public relations writer for the Kwakiutl Band in British Columbia and his participation in the campaign, along with the Sea Shepherd crew and me, to seize the replica of Columbus’s ship, the Santa Maria .

Hunter wrote this foreword originally for the June 3–10, 1999, issue of the Vancouver weekly newsmagazine the Georgia Straight.

RED TIDE

Environmentalists were a lot sadder during the last two weeks of May, more disillusioned than they’ve been in a long time.

But everybody lost something—Natives most definitely included—when the Makah went over to the Dark Side and killed a gray whale near Neah Bay, despite the best efforts of groups like the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and the West Coast Anti-Whaling Society.

It was an uneven tussle. The Makah had the US Coast Guard on their side, thanks to the backing of the hypocritical US government itself, with our own Canadian fisheries minister, David Anderson, slinking around in the background, issuing special permits to clear the way should the novice whalers have to chase a large wounded animal into Canadian waters.

When I saw footage of young, wet-suit-clad Makah warriors standing on the body of the dead whale, giving exultant clenched-fist power salutes as though they had accomplished a great thing, I seriously thought, Maybe there isn’t any hope for this planet.

What heroic, noble warriors, stuff of legends, throwing a spear into an unsuspecting three-year-old gray whale (a child whale that had probably been petted by humans while down in the wintering lagoons of the Baja Peninsula), then pumping it full of lead with a .50 caliber rifle and cheering in victory as it slowly, agonizingly convulsed in a soup of blood and piss while back at home Native kids waved signs saying, Kill the Whales!

A fabulous cultural and spiritual renaissance in the making.

So much for one of the abiding myths of the environmental movement, namely that the Natives could be counted on to treat nature with more respect than the white man. Some activists have long argued that environmentalists should support all Native land claims because the Aboriginals will automatically do a better job of preserving the wilderness than the rest of us.

Well, what we green types lost when the Makah’s .50 caliber opened up was not just one whale but the one remaining spark of collective innocence we still enjoyed: our naïve assumption about the inherent eco-nobility—indeed, the superiority—of our Aboriginal brothers and sisters.

The Makah didn’t just blow holes in the whale; they also blew apart one of the best public relations gigs going: namely, the notion, fortified by modern books, television, and movies alike, that Natives are automatically the Good Guys when it comes to the environment. In the movie Free Willy, the Native guy had to be on the whale’s side, as any other position would have confused the audience.

Oh well, another lovely hippie fantasy bites the dust.

Of course, it has always been racial stereotyping to make any presumption about all North American Indian people. There are thousands of little Palestine-like Aboriginal enclaves on the continent where the First Nations have been penned up, all of them arguably distinct cultures in their own right, even when they are members of a scattered tribe. Killing whales is not suddenly an Indian thing. Members of BC’s Gitxsan and Wet'suwet'en peoples, for instance, traveled to Neah Bay to try to talk sense into the Makah leadership.

They failed, but they tried—the point being that not all Natives can be tarred with the Makah brush. Still, the killing stirred up such visceral feelings on both sides of the border that it has to be a public relations disaster for the Makah, the US Coast Guard, and our own acquiescent Canadian federal fisheries minister.

To the extent that the killing stirs up anti-Native feelings, it is bad all around for harmony, mutual respect, and enlightened politics. Racists are chortling over their twelve packs, and liberals can only cringe. After all, with a vicious stab and a burst of heavy-caliber fire, the Makah have squandered the goodwill of environmentalists, people who have generally stood steadfast at the shoulders of Native activists for the past few decades, and who, at the very least, have been solicitous—some might even say obsequious—in the presence of Native leaders, who they have been conditioned to regard as natural allies.

And indeed, hardcore anti-logging people tell me that the support of Natives is absolutely vital in the struggle to save the remaining old-growth forests in Canada. So don’t expect to see a sudden official rift between ecofreaks and Natives. Their interests and struggles will continue to overlap, and alliances will go on—no doubt because they must—but an element of implicit trust is gone forever.

Native spirituality itself has taken a hit, because the Makah falsely played up their spirituality from the start until almost the finish, when an Inuit butcher had to be flown in to cut up the whale’s body. Who can believe for a moment in any traditional ritual that involves towing a ceremonial canoe from one pod of migrating whales to another with powerful outboard engines until a small-enough victim can be isolated, then using a .50 caliber rifle to kill the whale, high-pressure air hoses to float it, and a diesel-powered fish boat to tow the carcass to shore, where a chainsaw and a forklift wait?

As for the spirituality of it all, blood sacrifices are pretty much out of vogue among the rest of the world’s religions. And what is the religion of the Makah, anyway?

When I was in Neah Bay last October, having dinner as a member of the media in a community hall full of Makah tribal members, a white-haired old woman got up and offered a blessing in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Virtually everyone bowed, most clasping their hands in prayer. Looked like Christians to me. So when did attacking a harmless sea mammal with high-caliber weaponry become an act of redemption?

Spiritual posturing aside, the truth is that the Makah—who have promised not to sell their catch—have had a secret agenda all along. Documents obtained by the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society through the US Freedom of Information Act on October 2, 1998, show that as far back as 1995, Makah officials, meaning the leadership of the tribal council, were talking behind closed doors with American federal officials about nothing less than a commercial whaling operation.

The documents include email correspondence between US National Marine Fisheries Service people and notes from meetings that were taken by Michael F. Tillman, the deputy US commissioner to the International Whaling Commission. A memo dated April 27, 1995, and hand addressed to MFT (Tillman) from RLB (identified by Sea Shepherd as Robert L. Brownell of the NMFS) makes it clear that Makah representatives were planning to operate a processing plant so as to sell to markets outside the US. The Makah have started discussions with Japan and Norway about selling their whale products to both countries. The plant could be used to process the catches of other tribes as well.

In the memo, Brownell defines catches as meaning gray whales, harbor seals, California sea lions, minke whales, small cetaceans, and, potentially, sea otters. Open Season.

If this seems all very underhanded, it certainly is no less devious than the machinations of Fisheries and Oceans Canada, which was accused by the Humane Society of Canada, after the latest obtained federal documents under the Access to Information Act, of fronting for Japanese whaling interests by aiding the Makah, with whom the Japanese want to do business.

Humane Society spokesman Michael O’Sullivan has filed formal complaints with the Convention on the International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, fingering Fisheries Minister Anderson for illegally issuing a permit to export whale meat (should a whale be killed while in Canadian waters) and issuing a license to hunt whales without the permission of the International Whaling Commission, which is the only body with the power to approve such hunts. (Canada withdrew its membership in the IWC in the 1980s.)

Almost lost in the flurry of images of the dying whale was the original point of protests: namely that the IWC did not sanction a whale hunt by the Makah in the first place because the lubricious argument that they need the meat for subsistence (after living seventy years without it) has not been accepted by anybody—except, unfortunately, US vice president Al Gore and the US whaling commissioner, James Baker.

The US administration has bought the Makah’s constitutional argument that whaling rights were never ceded in their treaty, which wouldn’t be a problem except that the White House refuses to take the next step: recognize that the Makah, like the US itself, must be subject to binding international conservation laws—a hard case to make, for sure, with Japan and Norway and now the Makah themselves running amok.

The reentry of the Makah into the ranks of the world’s whalers couldn’t be coming at a worse time, with Japan having clearly decided to turn a blind eye to its internal trade in whale meat, which DNA testing of fish-market and supermarket samples by visiting eco groups has shown definitively to include flesh from among every species of whale, including the edge-of-extinction blue whale.

This means that the official IWC-ordered moratorium on the killing of all whales is being routinely ignored. We are almost back to the days of the Cold War, when Soviet whalers took anything and everything but lied about it in the records, so the whales seemed protected by quota systems but weren’t.

Again, the IWC is showing itself to be toothless. Norway and Japan scheme tirelessly to dismantle the regulations that are all that is holding back a full-scale resumption of commercial whaling worldwide. Norway, meanwhile, hunts in open defiance of the IWC ban, and Japan uses a technical loophole in the agreement to continue killing minke whales for scientific research, with the meat somehow ending up in Japanese markets and restaurants.

On top of continued human hunting, whales in general are facing threats to their survival related to climate change and attendant changing ocean conditions. On the East Coast, the endangered right whale’s tiny population of about 350, which was slowly but steadily recovering, has lost its momentum and is liable to start shrinking again soon. Reasons: fishnets, poisons, and shipping lanes passing through their birthing grounds.

So far during this spring’s Pacific migration (1999) from Mexico to the Bering Sea, at least seven gray whales have washed up along the West Coast, their body tissues saturated with industrial contaminants. Any sustainable killing of whales, Aboriginal or otherwise, has to factor in the possibility of catastrophic population decline in the not-too-distant future, even without hunting, as temperatures climb, disrupting the ocean’s ecosystem upon which the whales depend.

Further proof that these are rotten times to be starting up a whale hunt: The Pacific killer whale (Orcinus orca) has just been added to Canada’s endangered species list—and this without any hunting, or even capture, of the creatures for decades. The problems: habitat destruction, toxins, less food. The world’s whales—along with their entire ecosystem—are under enough stress already without being hunted. It is as simple as that.

The residents of Neah Bay had a party the night before the kill. In current political terms, the Makah have managed to isolate themselves so thoroughly that they have become the eco-Serbs of the West Coast. They have also thrown a whale-sized monkey wrench into ongoing treaty negotiations in British Columbia, with the Nuu-chahnulth unwisely slapping whaling rights on the table at the very moment BC political leaders are denouncing the very idea of whaling off provincial shores. If this were a game, you’d have to move any other Vancouver Island land claims to the back of the board.

All I know is that as a writer who used to work as a public relations advisor to the Nimpkish Band at Alert Bay, and as the author of a history of Canada from the Native point of view, I’m glad I’m not on deck as a Native flack or negotiator having to deal with the backlash that is going to be felt. If I were advising my old bosses now—or any other Native group—I’d say, Keep your heads low, minimize demands, look innocent. Makah who?

And I do know this, as a longtime supporter of various Native causes who has always been in favor of the most generous land-claims settlements possible, I can no longer offer my blanket support. The moral and ethical ground just got a whole lot stickier. If the price of the Nuu-chah-nulth achieving self-determination, for instance, is the enshrinement of their right to kill whales, then fuck ’em.

I’d be happy to see Coast Guard boats out there—both Canadian and American—protecting the whales for a change instead of the whalers. And if it takes cops with guns to keep humans with guns at bay, so be it. Keep your mad-dog humans on a chain, I say, until the whales have safely passed.

1

CHAPTER

The Spirit of Aumanil

Paul, your wisdom and concern is acknowledged by myself and the elders. May the Great Spirit bless you for all your work.

KHOT-LA-CHA (CHIEF SIMON BAKER), SQUAMISH, CAPILANO RESERVE

Ihave always been a strong and active advocate of Aboriginal Indigenous rights. I am, however, also a wildlife conservationist, and occasionally my advocacy for wildlife brings me into conflict with many different cultures, ethnic groups, and nationalities. My priority is always the interest of wildlife and endangered and threatened species over the interests and demands of humans, any group of humans, without discrimination.

I am Métis and a direct descendent of chief Henri Membertou (1490–1560), the sakmow (grand chief) of the Mi'kmaq First Nations in sixteenth-century Acadia. (My lineage is outlined on page 237.) The European side of my family are Acadian and have lived in Acadia (presently Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick) since the mid-sixteenth century.

I was born in the traditional lands of the Senecas. The Senecas were one of the five nations of the Iroquois, along with the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, and Cayuga. The Senecas established two communities on the northern shores of Lake Ontario, the village of Ganatsekwyagon near the mouth of the Rouge River and the village of Teiaiagon on the banks of the Humber. The name originates from the Iroquois word tkaronto, meaning where there are trees standing in the water.

My father met my mother, Annamarie Larsen, in Toronto, where I was born. When I was six years old, I returned with my parents to New Brunswick. I was raised in the fishing community of St. Andrews by-the-Sea, New Brunswick, just across the water from the state of Maine. At an early age, I was familiar with the local Passamaquoddy Band across the water near Eastport and spent time exploring the woods, river, and bays on both sides of the border.

At the age of ten, I had jumped into wildlife-protection activities when a young beaver that I regularly played with was killed in a leg-hold trap. I began to sabotage traplines, both Native and white. I wore snowshoes backward to confuse the trappers. I did not see how the ownership of those cruel devices made any difference to the victims. It was a great joy to me to release ensnared animals. Over the next few years, I freed dozens of cats, dogs, seagulls, beavers, and a young fawn from the grotesque contraptions that I then threw into the river or ponds. I was never caught, and it was a source of amusement for me to listen to the complaints of the trappers over the mysterious disappearance of their hardware. No one suspected a child.

It was at this age that I discovered the books of Grey Owl when I read Sajo and the Beaver People. Archie Belany, an Englishman who lived as an Indian with his Mohawk wife, Anahareo, championed the beaver. They were both very much role models for me. I also discovered Roots of Heaven by Romain Gary, and I was fascinated and inspired by Gary’s character Morel, who waged war against elephant hunters.

I knew at a very young age what it was I wished to do with my life. I could think of nothing more satisfying than protecting animals and championing the cause of Indians.

As a North American with Native heritage, I have been well educated in the history of conquest and genocide that has spawned the nations of Canada, the United States, and Mexico. I suffer from no illusions here. I was raised in poverty and I have seen the poverty of numerous reservations. I have also had a lifelong association with many Native communities.

I held no illusions about the horrific destruction caused by the bloody fur trade, the damage it did to wildlife populations, and the disruption it had caused to First Nations people, turning them from relatively respectful hunters into pawns of the Hudson Bay Company, virtual slaves to the company store who each year slaughtered more and more of the beaver, the fox, the mink, the deer, and the wolf so that they could strive for the material status enjoyed by the white man.

Still, I saw that the Indian had been drafted to service the traplines in exchange for the pittance paid to them, while the fur industry reaped massive profits from the coldly cruel, gory labor of the Indian. I saw the beaver and the Indian as victims of an economic system that exploited both without thought to the future of either.

My commitment to Native rights has not been the typical liberal approach of sympathy and patronization. I have never seen Native people as special but simply as an Aboriginal people who have suffered from an unjust conquest at the hands of generations of primarily European conquerors. It was my objection to that injustice that led me into an indisputably active role in fighting for Native rights.

In 1972, I became one of the first members of the British Columbia Association of Non-Status Indians. I still carry my membership card from that date, signed by the president of the association, Irene MacDonald, and the secretary, K. Maracle. As a reporter for the Vancouver alternative weekly the Georgia Straight, I did an investigative project into the death of a Chilcotin Indian named Fred Quilt. A coroner’s jury had ruled his death accidental. My writings, among others, and pressure from the BC Association of Non-Status Indians, led to further inquiries until it was finally determined that Quilt had been beaten to death by mounted police officers. The two officers involved were not charged but were transferred out of the province.

That same year, as a journalist, I covered the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development held in Sweden. Environment, conservation, Third World struggles, and Native rights were my primary journalistic concerns as I worked on ships to support myself and to finance my studies in communications at Simon Fraser University in Burnaby, British Columbia.

Also in 1972, after a trip as a crew member on a Norwegian merchant ship to South Africa, I submitted an article about a South African prisoner on Robben Island. My story was rejected by numerous publications. No one wanted to hear about an anti-apartheid terrorist and a convicted felon. My story ran only in the Georgia Straight. The terrorist was Nelson Mandela.

Nelson Mandela’s life has always been an inspiration to me. The very idea that Nelson Mandela would one day be president of South Africa was unthinkable and thus impossible, yet the impossible became possible.

To this day, I firmly believe that the answer to a seemingly impossible problem is to find the impossible solution. There are three virtues that will assist in finding that answer: passion, backed up by courage and imagination.

On Friday, March 9, 1973, David Garrick, Al Anderson, Steve Whalen, and I set off from Vancouver in Al’s Datsun pickup. We arrived in Pine Ridge on March 13 and boldly attempted to drive into the village of Wounded Knee a few hours later.

Two miles from the village, we ran smack into a fully armed FBI roadblock. We were told to step out of the vehicle with our hands in the air as the agents searched the car. They found an ax and two hunting knives, and David Garrick and I were promptly arrested and charged with possession of offensive weapons. We were then driven back to Pine Ridge and tossed into the jail for a few hours before being released and told to return to Canada.

We quickly discovered from reporters that Wounded Knee was surrounded by numerous federal agents, including fourteen armored personnel carriers. I had no intention of returning to Vancouver. Al Anderson and Steve Whalen decided to go home, leaving David and me behind. The two of us allied ourselves with Dewy Brave Heart in the town of Calico, and he helped us to get into the village. I attempted the long hike from Calico over the hills by myself during the night. It was a longer hike than I expected and much colder. When I got close to the FBI patrols, I crawled over the ground with tumbleweeds tied to my back. Unfortunately, I was spotted, arrested a second time, driven back to Pine Ridge, and charged with being a foreign national in an emergency area. This time I was given two hours to leave the reservation and return home.

As I left the jail, I noticed reporters in a line in front of the Bureau of Indian Affairs office. One of them told me they were waiting to apply for a day pass to enter Wounded Knee. I decided to join the line, and when I reached the desk, I told them I was a reporter for the Vancouver Sun and the Georgia Straight. I had my Georgia Straight press card with me and told them that they could call Robert Hunter at the Vancouver Sun to verify my reporting for that paper. Bob covered me, and the BIA public relations guy handed me a day pass.

I caught a ride with another reporter. We drove without incident through the roadblock, and I