Introduction
The Arctic has been described in the mainstream media as the next great frontier for resource development and geopolitical competition (Spohr, Reference Spohr2018; Lamothe, Reference Lamothe2018). For Indigenous peoples who call the Arctic their home, however, this is just the latest chapter in a long history of development involving actors who are external to the region. Recently, Arctic Indigenous peoples have acquired new tools that will enable them to influence the development of their traditional territories. International legal rulings and decisions, coupled with political changes at the domestic level, have empowered Indigenous peoples throughout the circumpolar north, strengthening their ability to self-determine and participate and in some cases challenge the development process in ways that were inconceivable half a century ago.
While political and institutional change is an important part of self-determination, achieving greater economic self-sufficiency and control are also keys to reducing the dependency of Indigenous regions and peoples on the state and helping them to diversify and control their respective economies. The importance of economic development to Indigenous self-determination and the ways in which Indigenous peoples are engaging in economic development are topics that are generally underappreciated in the literature (Rodon, Reference Rodon2014; Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018). With this in mind, our goal is to unpack the complex relationship between economic development and control and political autonomy, and the manner in which it influences the self-determination of Indigenous peoples.
This article compares the experiences of the Inuit in Canada and the Sámi in Norway, two Indigenous groups who, over the last several decades, have made significant progress in terms of securing greater political and territorial autonomy. The question that remains, however, is will this political autonomy be enough for these groups to realise self-determination? In his work on the comparative regional development of peripheral areas in western and northern Europe, Norwegian political scientist, Stein Rokkan, underscored the interplay between three core factors, economy, territory, and identity, in determining the basis for increased regional (territorial) autonomy (Rokkan, Reference Rokkan1970; Rokkan & Urwin, Reference Rokkan and Urwin1983). He argued that peripheral regions that do not control their economic destinies will struggle to maintain political and cultural autonomy within the central state of which they are part. Although Rokkan did not develop this framework to assess Indigenous autonomy per se, his analytical framework is applicable to questions of Indigenous self-determination and Indigenous–state relations. Drawing on Rokkan’s analysis, this article argues that economic development and autonomy are critical components of Indigenous self-determination. Moreover, we find that in addition to the specific characteristics of Indigenous economies and societies, other variables such as the organisation of the political system and a country’s adherence to domestic and international norms connected with Indigenous rights play important roles in structuring the interaction of Indigenous peoples with the state and with the broader economy.
Part one of this article examines the place of economic development and economic self-determination within the broader literature on Indigenous self-determination and political autonomy. It also explores Rokkan’s conceptual framework and how the interplay between economy, territory, and identity demonstrates the challenges of Indigenous mobilisation and self-determination in an increasingly globalised Arctic region. Part two provides a brief overview of the impact of colonisation in Inuit Nunangat, the homeland of the Inuit peoples of Canada. It then outlines more recent changes that have strengthened the autonomy of individual Inuit regions within Inuit Nunangat since the signing of comprehensive land claims agreements or modern treaties, with a particular focus on issues relating to economic development in its various forms. Part three looks at the effects of state-led assimilation and modernisation policies on the Sámi peoples of Norway, as well as the ways in which Sámi mobilisation and institutions such as the Sámi Parliament have influenced the development trajectory since the modern Sámi mobilisation began in the late 1960s. The last part compares the main insights from the two cases, with an emphasis on why such profound differences are evident and what they mean in terms of Indigenous self-determination more broadly.
Indigenous self-determination and economic development: a framework for analysis
Self-determination has been a central focus of discussions about Indigenous rights and development. The United Nations Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) enshrines the concept of self-determination in international law. Article 3 of UNDRIP states: “Indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination. By virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development” (UNDRIP, 2007). Article 4 further outlines the political and economic dimensions of self-determination: “Indigenous peoples, in exercising their right to self-determination, have the right to autonomy or self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs, as well as ways and means for financing their autonomous functions” (UNDRIP, 2007).
The academic literature on Indigenous self-determination provides a range and depth of perspectives on this concept and its relationship to the political–legal, economic, and socio-cultural criteria outlined in UNDRIP. Some scholars have approached this issue from the perspective of transnational activism (Shadian, Reference Shadian, Keil and Knecht2016) and security studies (Greaves, Reference Greaves2016), and it is certainly true that both the Inuit and the Sámi have developed strong international networks that support their efforts to establish autonomous institutions at the domestic level. Others have questioned legal and rights-based approaches to self-determination, noting that they inhibit meaningful progress by defining Indigenous peoples in relation to the colonial state and economic modes of production that underpin it (Coultard, Reference Coultard2007). Instead, they call for a more sustainable and holistic approach to self-determination that shields Indigenous peoples from the state and emphasises their connections with each other and the natural world (Corntassel, Reference Corntassel2008).
Several scholars, however, promote a relational model of self-determination that recognises the complexities and interdependencies that structure the relationships between Indigenous peoples and the state. In order to realise self-determination, therefore, Indigenous peoples must pursue multiple political and legal avenues, including self-government (self-rule or autonomy) and greater involvement and inclusion in the institutions of state governance (shared rule) (Murphy, Reference Murphy2008; Wilson and Selle, Reference Wilson and Selle2019). Much has been said about the importance of political and legal autonomy as a foundation for the self-determination of Indigenous peoples within nation states. This autonomy is expressed in many different forms. In Canada, Indigenous political autonomy has taken a path that conforms to the federal system in which it is embedded. In particular, land claims agreements (sometimes referred to as modern treaties) have paved the way for the establishment of self-governing Indigenous regions that provide varying degrees of political and territorial autonomy through self-rule. In Norway and throughout Fennoscandia, the Sámi have achieved a level of political autonomy and shared rule through the establishment of Indigenous parliaments that exist alongside and advise non-Indigenous governments. The Sámi Parliament in Norway, responsible for all Sámi within this centralised, unitary state, has gradually assumed an important role on a national level, not only as a policy advisor but also as a decision-maker, especially with regard to the implementation of cultural and educational policies (Wilson & Selle, Reference Wilson and Selle2019). In both cases, these different forms of autonomy and political development have reinforced the notion of self-determination, not only internally within Indigenous communities but also externally among non-Indigenous governments and society in general.
One area that has received relatively limited attention in the literature on Indigenous self-determination is the important and complex role that the economic sector plays in supporting Indigenous political autonomy (Cornell & Kalt, Reference Cornell and Kalt2010; Anderson, Kayseas, Dana & Hindle, Reference Anderson, Kayseas, Dana and Hindle2004). Scholars working in the Inuit regions of northern Canada have examined various aspects of economic development ranging from resource development and land claims agreements (McPherson, Reference McPherson2003) and regional economic development (Rodon, Reference Rodon2014) to Inuit development corporations (Mitchell, Reference Mitchell1996; Janda, Reference Janda2006; Wilson & Alcantara, Reference Wilson and Alcantara2012) and the dynamics of traditional economies (Gombay, Reference Gombay2010). For the most part, however, these studies do not relate the importance of the economic dimension to that of the broader political and cultural context. There are several studies of the economic situation in the core Sámi areas in Norway, but none of them really analyse the role that the economy plays in self-determination (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018; Angell, Gaski, Lie & Nygaard, Reference Angell, Gaski, Lie and Nygaard2014). In general, much of the literature focuses on the economic challenges and social problems faced by Indigenous peoples, rather than on the place of the economy and economic development in supporting Indigenous self-determination. Importantly, there have also been few if any comparative examinations of this issue across different jurisdictions (Kuokkanen, Reference Kuokkanen2006; Greaves, Reference Greaves2016), a significant gap which this article in part addresses.
In his work on the economic and political development of peripheral regions in western Europe, the renowned Norwegian political scientist Stein Rokkan and his collaborator Derek Urwin discussed the importance of regional economic strength or the potential for such strength as a necessary component of regional mobilisation and autonomy against a powerful central state (Rokkan & Urwin, Reference Rokkan and Urwin1983). At the heart of this mobilisation is the interplay between economy, territory, and identity. Historically speaking, Rokkan argued that peripheral regions and their inhabitants in western and northern Europe were subjected to different forms of integration at the hands of centralised state structures that align with these dimensions: the territorial expansion and consolidation of the modern state, a process of cultural assimilation, and economic colonisation that occurred as part of nation-building processes and, eventually, the expansion of the welfare state.
As some of these peripheral regions attempt to break free from this subjugation, their chances of attaining greater political autonomy are weaker if they lack economic strength and relevance within the larger national economy. A core understanding in Rokkan’s thinking was that to secure increased regional political and even cultural autonomy within a nation state, a region must really have an important economic good to deliver or offer today or in the future that the state needs in order to achieve its own development goals. In this context, a weak regional economy with unclear territorial boundaries and the lack of a strong regional identity makes the process of mobilising for greater political autonomy difficult or even impossible. Even with a strong, historically based identity, without a vibrant economy, achieving greater autonomy is challenging for peripheral regions because the necessary power behind such claims is lacking.
Even if Rokkan did not develop his ideas with Indigenous regions or peoples in mind, this varying interplay between economy, territory, and identity resonates with their experiences. In many parts of the circumpolar north, Indigenous communities have historically occupied an extremely weak position both in relation to the states in which they were incorporated and to the settler-dominated communities in their traditional territories. As a result, they have been subjected to intensive processes of economic, territorial, and cultural integration as part of the nation-building process and other political and economic developments.
In recent years, however, the circumstances facing Indigenous peoples in countries such as Canada and Norway have started to change. Indigenous resistance to major resource development projects that were coveted and promoted by state and private actors set in motion a series of events that would transform the political and economic landscapes of northern regions and the position of Indigenous peoples within them. These developments have been accompanied and fuelled by changes in the domestic and international legal spheres that have influenced the state’s approach to accommodating Indigenous demands for greater self-determination in which the land question and the economic dimension are crucial. The Indigenous “rights revolution” and the rise of international Indigenous legal regimes in the period after the 1980s have changed the structure of the interplay between Rokkan’s three dimensions in a way that could not have been foreseen by him, thereby influencing the character of Indigenous mobilisation and self-determination in important yet distinct ways. The following case studies will examine these changing circumstances and the manner in which they have impacted the Inuit and the Sámi.
Economy, territory, and identity in Inuit Nunangat
Inuit Nunangat is the traditional homeland of the Inuit peoples of Canada. At 3,304.740 square kilometres, it encompasses 35% of Canada’s landmass and 50% of its coastline and consists of land, water and ice, elements that Inuit consider integral to their culture and way of life (Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, 2020). Inuit Nunangat is extremely sparsely populated. According to the 2016 Canadian Census, 56,585 people live in 51 communities across this vast region and 47,335 (83.6%) identify as Inuit (Statistics Canada, 2016). The population of Inuit Nunangat increased by 20% between 2006 and 2016 and the average age of the Inuit population is 26.4, compared with 40.9 for Canada as a whole, changes that will have important economic impacts in terms of employment and the provision of social and health services in the future (Arriagada & Bleakney, Reference Arriagada and Bleakney2019).
There are four politically and culturally distinct regions with varying degrees of autonomy located within Inuit Nunangat: the Inuvialuit Settlement Region in the Northwest Territories; the Territory of Nunavut; Nunavik in the province of Québec; and Nunatsiavut in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Although Inuit consider Inuit Nunangat as a single homeland, the fact that there are four separate Inuit regions is largely a result of the federal system of government in Canada, which divides power and territory between the federal and provincial/territorial governments, as well as cultural, historical, and geographical distinctions between different Inuit groups. The following case study will refer to all four Inuit regions but, for reasons of brevity, it will draw heavily on the experiences of Nunavik, the first region to sign a comprehensive land claims agreement with the Crown in 1975.
Colonisation and integration
According to Rokkan, peripheral regions have been subjected to different forms of integration at the hands of the state: territorial incorporation into the modern state; cultural assimilation into the dominant culture and ways of living; and economic colonisation and exploitation. These forms of integration are evident in the case of Inuit in Canada who have experienced centuries of colonisation, first at the hands of Britain and, after 1867, through the institutions of the Canadian state.
Over the course of the last century, control over Inuit Nunangat shifted between the federal government and later the provincial and territorial governments. Until the Second World War, state involvement in Inuit Nunangat could have been described as one of neglect; the region as a whole was very poorly served. In the post-war period, the state intensified its involvement in the region, first through the establishment of permanent settlements and second, through the extension of the welfare state. Although these measures brought benefits, including healthcare and social services, they also facilitated the assimilation of Inuit into the dominant culture and ways of living. Sedentarisation severed the cultural and economic links that Inuit had with the land and created dependencies on state institutions and the wage economy. Although many Inuit still practise traditional activities such as hunting and gathering, and these activities are important complements to their quality of life, both economically and culturally, in 2017, just over half aged 15 or older living in Inuit Nunangat were employed in the wage economy and depended on this economy to provide basic necessities (Arriagada & Bleakney, Reference Arriagada and Bleakney2019).
Canadian territorial and political control over Inuit Nunangat also facilitated the economic exploitation of this region, by both state and private actors engaged mainly in resource development. While the intensity of industrialisation was lower than that in other parts of Canada, in large part due to the remote geography and harsh climate of the region, lucrative mineral and petroleum deposits attracted resource corporations and state agencies. This development would also serve as an important catalyst for change. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, major resource projects politicised and mobilised Inuit across Inuit Nunangat and led to a significant shift in the relationship between Inuit peoples and the institutions of the Canadian state (Wilson, Alcantara & Rodon, Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020).
Changing political and economic landscape
Rokkan argued that in order to secure increased political and cultural autonomy, a peripheral region must have something of economic value that the state needs. We certainly see this dynamic in the relationship between the Canadian state and economy and Inuit; the land claims agreements (modern treaties) that provided Inuit with varying degrees of political and cultural autonomy after the 1970s were outcomes of the struggle over massive resource development projects (both existing and proposed) that were supported and even sponsored by state actors. It is important to note that these developments roughly coincided with a series of important constitutional changes and legal rulings that affirmed and reinforced Aboriginal and treaty rights in Canada (Asch, Reference Asch and Havemann2004). Compared to countries like Norway, however, the Canadian government has been less enthusiastic about ratifying and observing international Indigenous rights agreements and declarations. For example, it is not a signatory to the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention (1989) or ILO Convention-169 and only endorsed the UNDRIP in 2016 after being one of only four countries to oppose the declaration when it was first adopted by the UN General Assembly in 2007.
Rokkan maintained that for peripheral regions, political and cultural autonomy could not be sustained without greater control over their economic destiny. Given the history of economic colonisation and exploitation experienced by Inuit, one would expect that their perspective on engagement with the broader economy would be at best cautious and at worst hostile (Nungak, Reference Nungak2017). For some, the values and objectives of this economy, and in particular the resource development projects that are its hallmarks in the north, pose a direct threat to traditional Inuit economic activities such as hunting and gathering. There are, however, some more recent examples of successful Inuit involvement in the resource sector as well as other non-traditional economic activities. These examples demonstrate the way in which regional organisations and programmes that were established through the land claims agreements seek to balance engagement with the wage economy and the broader economy in which it is embedded and support for traditional economic activities that are so important to the social and cultural health of these regions (Rodon, Reference Rodon2014).
At present, economic development in Inuit Nunangat is supported differently depending on the region in question. The diversity of regional governance models is a consequence of local preferences and the institutional choices available when the land claims agreements were being negotiated (Wilson, Alcantara & Rodon, Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020). In some regions, such as Nunavut and Nunavik, territorial or regional departments are responsible for areas such as economic development and local and regional development. Examples include the Government of Nunavut (GN)’s Department of Economic Development and Transportation and the Kativik Regional Government (KRG)’s Department of Regional and Local Development in Nunavik. Co-existing alongside (but separate from) these government departments are Inuit development corporations (land claims organisations) that were created by the land claims agreements in each region to represent Inuit interests. Unlike the government departments, which are public agencies, these corporations manage and invest the financial resources obtained from the land claims agreements on behalf of the Inuit beneficiaries in each region to those agreements, either directly as is the case with the Makivik Corporation in Nunavik or indirectly through other organisations: in the Inuvialuit Settlement Region through the Inuvialuit Development Corporation which is owned by the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation, in Nunavut through a series of regional economic development, community economic development and investment corporations, and in Nunatsiavut through the Nunatsiavut Group of Companies. Recently, a number of these organisations have established the Inuit Development Corporation Association “that will, among other things, help position Inuit development corporations to land large and lucrative federal government contracts” (Bell, Reference Bell2018).
One of the most important roles of the Inuit development corporations is to support small- and medium-sized enterprises that provide not only employment opportunities and revenues but also much-needed services for the different regions and their inhabitants. Examples include regional airlines such as First Air, Canadian North, and Air Inuit and shipping companies such as Nunavik Eastern Arctic Shipping that offer critical transportation links within Inuit Nunangat and with the south. Inuit development corporations have also engaged with larger corporations such as mining companies on behalf of Inuit communities. For example, in 1995, a comprehensive agreement signed by the Makivik Corporation and the Nunavik communities of Kangiqsujuaq and Salluit and Xstrata Nickel provided a share of the profits from the Raglan nickel mine, as well as additional benefits for local populations such as training, hiring of local businesses, and environmental management. In 2011, the agreement yielded C$15.2 million in profit-sharing payments to a trust fund for economic and community development (Makivik Corporation, 2011).
In addition to supporting the economic development of Inuit Nunangat, these corporations perform a variety of other roles including representing their respective regions in political negotiations with other levels of government and overseeing the implementation of the land claims agreements (Wilson & Alcantara, Reference Wilson and Alcantara2012). The Makivik Corporation, for example, has been involved in a number of intergovernmental negotiations over the years, including the 2001 Report of the Nunavik Commission (Amiqqaaluta) which mapped out a new and amalgamated government structure for the region, and the 2007 Nunavik Inuit Land Claims Agreement, as well as regional consultation initiatives such as the Parnasimautik Report and Plan Nunavik, a response to Plan Nord, the Government of Quebec’s most recent northern economic development strategy. In many respects, therefore, Makivik is the legitimate representative of Inuit in Quebec because its authority is derived from the land claims agreements and the Inuit beneficiaries whose interests it represents. Makivik works with other regional bodies such as the KRG and the Kativik School Board, although relations between these different organisations have not always been amicable and cooperative and this has, at times, set the region back in terms of its political development (Wilson, Reference Wilson2008).
One of the most important and distinctive aspects of the Inuit development corporations is the way in which they incorporate Inuit values and responsibilities into their economic activities. Makivik, for example, owns and invests in companies that serve the community as well as make a profit for the region and the Inuit beneficiaries. In 2018–2019, its total revenues were over C$110 million and it employed 134 people, including 85 Inuit beneficiaries (Makivik Corporation, 2019). It also contributes to the cultural development of the region and its inhabitants by supporting Inuit language and cultural programmes, as well as businesses that contribute to cultural development (Rodon, Reference Rodon2014). Much of this activity is funded through the Sanarrutik Agreement, a trilateral accord that was originally signed in 2002 between Makivik, the KRG, and the Government of Quebec to support economic and community development in Nunavik (Fabbi, Rodon & Finke, Reference Fabbi, Rodon and Finke2017). Between 2002 and 2019, total expenditures on programmes ranging from culture and youth programming to hunter support and economic development projects were over C$150 million (Makivik Corporation, 2019).
Current and future challenges
Despite the significant progress towards greater self-determination that Inuit peoples in Canada have made over the past several decades, they face some daunting challenges that will affect their ability to exercise political and economic autonomy and, in turn, protect and strengthen their identity and way of life. These challenges include the difficulties associated with building a diverse economy in a remote regional setting, significant social challenges, dependencies on other levels of government (federal, provincial, and territorial) for funding and services, tensions within the dual political model that exists in some of the Inuit regions, and a lack of influence and control over major development projects, particularly in the mining sector.
Economic development across Inuit Nunangat is hampered by the geographic, demographic, and climatic characteristics of this region. Its small and sparsely populated communities do not provide the economies of scale required to develop and control new industries and enterprises. A lack of transportation connections between communities and with the south present a significant barrier to trade. Resource development holds some promise, but it is subject to boom and bust cycles, poses a threat to the local ecosystems and traditional activities, and is largely controlled by external corporations with few if any connections to the region (Rodon, Lévesque & Blais, Reference Rodon, Levesque and Blais2013). Bearing all this in mind, maybe the most suitable “economy” for the region is the traditional economy based on subsistence activities. Of course, while many Inuit still engage in traditional economic activities (Gombay, Reference Gombay2010), they have become so embedded in and dependent on the wage economy that reverting back to the traditional economy is no longer a realistic option.
The challenges facing Inuit regions are immense. Government attitudes and policies that both neglected and assimilated Inuit peoples had a negative and long-term impact on many different levels. Studies have shown significant differences between Inuit and Canadian averages across a range of social and health indicators: life expectancy; infant mortality; youth suicides; chronic illnesses; infectious diseases; and substance abuse (Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, 2014). Inuit cultural identity is also threatened by linguistic erosion and decline; although the Inuit language, Inuktitut, is one of the strongest Indigenous languages in Canada, it is by no means immune from the threats that have endangered other Indigenous languages (Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, 2014). In an effort to address these challenges, the regions of Inuit Nunangat in collaboration with Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, the national Inuit organisation with representation from the four Inuit regions, have actively lobbied the federal government for enhanced support in a diverse range of social policy areas including education, housing, healthcare, language revitalisation, and food security (Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, 2020).
It is also important to note that the regions in Inuit Nunangat, even with their own corporations, are heavily dependent on public sector employment and intergovernmental transfers from other levels of government (Rodon, Reference Rodon2014). In 2021–2022, for example, the GN is expected to receive approximately C$1.843 billion in transfers for the federal government, which make up a significant proportion of total territorial revenues (Government of Canada, 2020). In 2013, the KRG, one of the main administrative bodies in Nunavik, received approximately C$200 million in funding, with the provincial government contributing 71% of this amount (Wilson et al., Reference Wilson, Alcantara and Rodon2020). While these are just some examples of fiscal dependency on the state, they are connected to the broader issues of autonomy and the political integration into the institutions of the Canadian state. Of the four Inuit regions in Inuit Nunangat, three (Nunavik, Nunatsiavut, and the Inuvialuit Settlement Region) are “nested” within existing jurisdictions. This arrangement ties them very closely to provincial and territorial departments and agencies and limits their ability to exercise political and economic autonomy. By comparison, Nunavut, which is a standalone territory within the Canadian federation, has a greater degree political autonomy, but its ability to fully exercise this autonomy is compromised by a number of factors including its strong fiscal dependency on the federal government (Legaré, Reference Legaré2008).
The political and economic dependencies of Inuit regional governments demonstrate that in spite of the progress they have made, these governments and the regions they serve have not fully extricated themselves from what Rokkan referred to as the territorial incorporation of peripheral regions into the modern state. The governance of some of these regions is further complicated by the co-existence of public governments and Inuit organisations. Both are legitimate in the sense that they are representative of and answerable to the vast majority of the inhabitants of the territory or region in question, but they have different agendas and responsibilities. Public governments and administrative bodies are responsible for programmes and services for all inhabitants, regardless of ethnic background, whereas land claims organisations are only responsible to the Inuit beneficiaries of the land claims agreements (who, to be clear, make up the majority of the overall population). In Nunavut and Nunavik, for example, public governments (GN and the KRG) co-exist with land claims organisations (Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated and the Makivik Corporation).
While these different bodies often cooperate with each other, the existence of two parallel governance structures could be a source of tension in the longer term, especially in light of efforts to reform the governance structure in regions such as Nunavik (Wilson & Alcantara, Reference Wilson and Alcantara2012). When the new ethnically based governance structure in Nunatsiavut came into being in 2005, the land claims organisation was incorporated into the regional government structure. This was not possible in Nunavut, because as a territory, it needed to have a public form of government, but it could be an option for other nested Inuit regions such as Nunavik or the Inuvialuit Settlement Region. Some observers have pointed out that tensions can arise not only because public governments and land claims organisations serve different (albeit overlapping) constituencies and have different levels of political integration into the broader political system, but also because the former have significant spending responsibilities but limited revenue-generating capacity and the latter have revenue-generating capacity but relatively fewer administrative responsibilities (Mifflin, Reference Mifflin2009). While in general, it appears that the relationship between public governments and land claims organisations is largely cooperative, their inter-organisational dynamics are complex and, at times, challenging (George, Reference George2021).
Although the governance bodies discussed above are involved in small- and medium-sized economic development initiatives which help to diversify the local and regional economies and provide services for the inhabitants of the different regions of Inuit Nunangat, larger-scale projects will be key to the future development of these regions in terms of providing employment opportunities for a growing and young population and revenues that can reduce (but not eliminate) fiscal dependencies on other levels of government. At present, options for such development are limited mainly to resource projects. These projects are controversial because, in certain respects, they recreate and reinforce the types of external controls that existed in the past and persist to this day.
In an effort to ensure greater benefits from these projects, Inuit development corporations have signed Impact and Benefit Agreements with resource development companies. Such agreements may bring benefits to communities and regions in the form of employment and revenues, but they do not transfer control of the projects to communities and the regions. The land claims agreements established different categories of land ownership and use, ranging in the case of Nunavik from full ownership and sub-surface rights (Category I) to exclusive (Category II) and preferential (Category III) hunting, fishing, and trapping rights. Since most resource development projects take place on Category III lands, Inuit corporations and the people they represent have a very limited role in these projects. In some respects, this lack of control puts Inuit in a similar situation that they faced when they negotiated the original land claims agreements – they are forced to react to resource development projects, rather than being proactively in control of those projects.
In summary, the last few decades have seen a remarkable transition in the political and economic self-determination of Inuit regions and communities in Canada. From a Rokkanian perspective, the land claims agreements that were negotiated and have been crucial components of the political, economic, and cultural development of Inuit Nunangat were in large part a response to major resource development projects that were initiated and/or supported by state actors. Many Inuit viewed these agreements as a step towards greater political autonomy and a means to protect their culture and way of life. They have provided Inuit with regional governance bodies that vary in terms of their organisation and the scope of their powers. They have also created some economic development organisations, such as the Inuit development corporations, which have made important contributions to the economic, political, and cultural well-being of the regions and Inuit Nunangat as a whole. However, Rokkan would most likely view the continuing fiscal dependence of these regions on the state as a worrying sign that they have not achieved extensive self-determination and that Inuit are still locked in a state of dependency and likely to remain there without significant political and institutional change.
What Rokkan could not have recognised at the time of his writing is the importance of a changing national and international dialogue on Indigenous rights. Although the pace of change in Canada is, at times, glacial, governments are increasingly being held accountable for their obligations to Indigenous peoples, including Inuit, through both domestic legal rulings and adherence to international agreements. In recent years, the federal government has made concrete overtures to Inuit leaders through the establishment of bodies such as the Inuit Crown Partnership Committee, a bilateral committee that enables high-level dialogue and discussion about a range of important issues (Government of Canada, 2021). This type of recognition and engagement did not exist in Rokkan’s day, and while it does not change the stark reality of economic dependency and the lack of diversity in the economic sector, it provides evidence that the perspective of the state has evolved in ways that support Inuit self-determination. It has also strengthened a sense of pan-Inuit solidarity in Canada and the idea of Inuit Nunangat as a unified territorial and policy space, which will be an important development moving forward (Fabbi & Wilson, Reference Fabbi, Wilson and Stern2022).
Economy, territory, and identity in Sápmi
The traditional territories of the Sámi are located in the northern part of Fennoscandia (Norway, Sweden, Finland, and northwestern Russia) in a region referred to as Sápmi. Most Sámi live in Norway (approximately 50 000), but the numbers are unverifiable. There is no clear definition or official register of Sámi and individuals may self-identify as Sámi if they have Sámi ancestors (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018). Rokkan’s work on regional autonomy and development in Norway excluded the Sámi. Instead, he concentrated his research on the cultural counter-movements in the richer, western parts of the country. Studying Indigenous politics was not common in the 1960s and 1970s, but the main reason he did not focus on the Sámi was most likely because he felt that they were not territorially concentrated, culturally homogenous, and numerous enough. Even so, when Rokkan did his research, most Sámi lived in the northern and most peripheral part of Norway and were most concentrated in the inner part of Finnmark County, an area that needed extensive state resources in the re-building and modernisation process in the reconstruction period following the Second World War.
Colonisation and integration
As late as the 1960s, this re-building or modernisation policy was of a general character with no special emphasis on the Sámi population and the Sámi occupied a marginal political position until the 1970s. Over time, however, an understanding emerged that to secure their position specific arrangements would be necessary in core Sámi areas concerning welfare, education, and social and economic development. There was a gradual change in the thinking regarding cultural variation in this period implying a significant break with the former policy of assimilation or “Norwegianisation” that had dominated since the 1870s, particularly through the school system and other state institutions (Andresen, Reference Andresen2016; Bjørklund, Reference Bjørklund2011; Andresen, Evjen & Ryymin, Reference Andresen, Evjen and Ryymin2021). Importantly, and in contrast to Indigenous peoples in Canada, the Sámi received full citizenship including voting rights to the same extent as the rest of the population in 1814 when Norway became an independent state (Semb, Reference Semb, Narud, Heidar and Grønlie2012). As such, they did not constitute a special group in the new and, at the time, very modern constitution. There is no tradition of treaties in Norway and the Sámi became highly integrated into Norwegian society and state structures and, importantly, with no territorial autonomy (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
Until the late 1970s, therefore, the Sámi were understood as being largely assimilated or at least integrated in Norwegian society as “Sámi speaking Norwegians” and/or as traditionalist reindeer herders. Many had lost their Indigenous language because of assimilation policies, particularly those living along the coast where they were often a minority in most communities and in which migration into larger communities occurred after the Second World War. Indeed, in this period, many Sámi wanted to be part of the “new Norwegian society” with its strong emphasis on modernisation and industrial development, improved communisation, equality (redistribution), and an increased standard of living (Minde, Reference Minde, Bjerkli and Selle2003). In other words, if we look at the Sámi position in the late 1960s and early 1970s, they were not prepared for extensive “grassroots” mobilisation that challenged the Norwegian state. The Sámi were so institutionally weak that any interplay between Rokkan’s core dimensions would not have resulted in a comprehensive mobilisation against the state. However, during the 1960s the state abandoned its strong assimilation policy, thereby creating an opening for Indigenous agency. In the period leading up to the late 1970s, the position of the Sámi within Norwegian society changed dramatically. Cultural and political boundaries were broken giving rise to a new Sámi political space that would set the stage for a specific type of non-territorial autonomy (Andresen, Reference Andresen2016; Bjørklund, Reference Bjørklund2011).
For historical and demographic reasons (size, lack of geographical concentration, and historical political tradition) and because of the character of the centralised unitary state in Norway, the Sámi never mobilised for territorial autonomy, but instead concentrated their efforts on increasing their decision-making power through negotiations with the state. This approach emphasised legal changes and institution building and the enhancement of decision-making power within the Norwegian welfare state institutions concerning issues important to the Sámi, in particular education and welfare. Because the Sámi population is small and not territorially concentrated, the emphasis has been to build strong shared rule arrangements within a centralised state structure (breaking-in) rather than building their own institutions through extensive self-rule as in Canada (breaking-out) (Cairns, Reference Cairns2000; Semb, Reference Semb, Narud, Heidar and Grønlie2012; Wilson & Selle, Reference Wilson and Selle2019). In general, being so integrated into Norwegian society and with no exit options, the strategy is to make the Sámi dimension visible within the Norwegian institutional landscape. The dispersal of Sámi across Norway coupled with the unitary nature of the Norwegian political and administrative system, therefore, leads naturally to a national institution like the Sámi Parliament (Samediggi) rather than territorial autonomy on a regional basis, as is the case with Inuit in Canada (Spitzer & Selle, Reference Spitzer and Selle2020).
Changing political and economic landscape
As with most socio-political transitions, the changes involving the Sámi were at first gradual and connected to the expansion of the welfare state, advances in communication technology and infrastructure, and greater access to higher education that produced a new Sámi academic and political elite. New organisations, the most important being the Norwegian Saami Association, appeared in the late 1960s in combination with an increased realisation within the public sector of the deep-seated social and cultural challenges facing the Sámi. This new understanding was also related to the human rights discourse that was championed by the United Nations and strengthened by the increased contact between Sámi academic elites and other Indigenous movements, particularly in the USA and Canada (Minde, Reference Minde, Bjerkli and Selle2003). There was a growing acceptance that the Sámi were more than just a cultural minority; they were a distinct group or people with very specific cultural and territorial interests in relation to Norwegian society and the Norwegian state (Bjørklund, Reference Bjørklund2011).
In the 1970s, a proposal to build a large power plant on the Alta River, in the core Sámi area, had very profound and long-term consequences for Sámi mobilisation and for the position of the Sámi within Norwegian society. Like the resource development projects that led to the political mobilisation of Inuit in Canada, this was a “critical juncture” that almost overnight changed the position of the Sámi and resulted in the growth of comprehensive new institutions to represent the Sámi within the Norwegian political system (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
Sámi activists and environmentalists mobilised against the proposed project that threatened Sámi communities and traditional grazing pastures for reindeer. The ensuing civil disobedience, probably the most significant in Norway in the post-war period (Strømsnes & Selle, Reference Strømsnes, Selle, Narud, Heidar and Grønlie2014), would lead to the internal differentiation and politicisation of Sámi society and an extensive and completely different type of relationship with the state. What followed was the creation of a broadly based government committee in 1980 and the tabling of its first White Paper in 1984 (NOU, 1984). In an unusually short period of time, the result was a deep-seated change to the Norwegian Constitution that guaranteed the Sámi culture and way of life (1987), a Sámi law strengthening Sámi self-determination and state responsibility (1987) and the creation of a Sámi Parliament (1989).
The Sámi Parliament was originally intended to be more of a “sounding board” for the Norwegian government, but now has quite extensive decision-making powers, especially with respect to Sami culture, language, and education, but also to some extent over economic policy not the least through its connection to the Finnmark Estate’s (FeFo) system of land management (Falch, Selle & Strømsnes, Reference Falch, Selle and Strømsnes2016). It has a bureaucracy of approximately 160 people divided into different sections and with 39 elected representatives it is without doubt the core institution of the new Sami public space within Norwegian society (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
The political and cultural mobilisation that accompanied these institutional changes gave rise to a more national and less localised and varied Sámi identity in which the linking of Sámi communities in different geographical settings aggregated common Sámi interests in what could be understood as a specific type of nation-building process within a unitary state (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018). What we see happening is a significant change, not only in the relationship between Sámi and the Norwegian state but also in the self-understanding and internal organisation of the Sámi. A transformation in mindset within the Norwegian government structure had already started to occur before the Indigenous “rights revolution” from the 1980s that led to the increased emphasis on and recognition of Indigenous people within the international community. In 1989, the International Labour Organization’s Convention on Indigenous and Tribal Peoples (ILO169), one of the first international agreements on the rights of Indigenous peoples and a forerunner of the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which Norway became the first country to ratify in 1990, was crucial in this regard.
Already at this relatively early point in the development of an international Indigenous rights regime, we see the contours of what would later become so important in the Norwegian context: a strong emphasis on Indigenous rights closely connected to the rise of international Indigenous law emerging from the UN system and, more generally, the important role of the new global Indigenous mobilisation. The Sámi gradually became more than “Sámi speaking Norwegians”. They acquired group rights that were distinct from the more general individual rights guaranteed by the Norwegian system. Even if these rights were not initially understood and defined as Indigenous, the conflict around land rights and territorial control in the core Sámi areas was central to the mobilisation that began with their opposition to the Alta power plant project (Minde, Reference Minde, Bjerkli and Selle2003; Andresen et al., Reference Andresen, Evjen and Ryymin2021).
These changes have strengthened the Sámi position on all of Rokkan’s three dimensions, economy, territory, and identity. Furthermore, the Indigenous rights revolution has deeply changed the interplay between the main dimensions; the land question is now central to the new mobilisation to strengthen Sámi rights. What seems clear is that Sámi identity and the political space are increasingly connected to the judicialisation of Indigenous politics within international law in a way that could not have been foreseen by Rokkan.
Current and future challenges
Despite significant progress, there are deep-seated challenges with regard to Sámi self-determination. The lack of territorial autonomy has great implications for the structural position of the Sámi and their decision-making power. The Sámi Parliament has no taxing or revenue-generating power and no real law-making power and is not expected or empowered to engage broadly in local or regional economic development within such a highly integrated economic and political system like Norway's. The overall economy is national and increasingly global, and this also has implications for the core Sámi areas. The Sami Parliament is also fiscally dependent on the Norwegian state; in 2021, its entire annual budget of approximately NKr 560 million was funded by the Norwegian government. Large parts of this budget are used on culture and language. In terms of economic development, the Sámi Parliament allocates less than NKr 40 million on small-scale, traditionally-based economic development projects, far from enough to have any real impact on overall economic development (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
Formally, the state guarantees Sámi culture and livelihood through the Constitution, the Sámi Law, and through the support of international conventions and declarations meant to secure and strengthen the part of the economy that is “traditional” in the core Sámi areas. This dependency is further strengthened by the absence of land claims agreements, which have provided groups such as Inuit in Canada with a degree of territorial autonomy and self-rule, as well as limited decision-making capacity and financial resources that fund the activities of Inuit development corporations and provide a certain amount of financial autonomy from the state. The systemic lack of Sámi investment capital hinders Sámi economic autonomy, both in general and in the core Sámi areas. This structural position also has an impact on the identity dimension itself, since it hampers economic diversification and reinforces the traditionalist nature of Sami economic and cultural policies, thereby limiting the ability of the Sami to engage with the national and global economies.
It is important to recognise at the outset that, unlike the case of the Inuit, the territorial dimension of the Sámi is rather diffuse with fuzzy boundaries not only geographically but also demographically, and with varying levels of “ethnic thickness” among individual Sámi (Coakley, Reference Coakley2016). There is an understanding of where the core Sámi areas are (i.e. Inner Finnmark). Even so, this area is too small and the number of people too few to make territorial autonomy a realistic option and besides, it is not something the Sámi want (Semb, Reference Semb, Narud, Heidar and Grønlie2012). In general, Sámi territorial rights are difficult to define because they strongly interact with the complex relationship between collective and individual Indigenous rights in Norway. Depending on the circumstances, land rights are less collective and more privately based than in Inuit Nunangat and are accompanied by more internal variation and potential for conflict (Spitzer & Selle, Reference Spitzer and Selle2020; Falch & Selle, Reference Falch, Selle, Hernes and Selle2021).
While there is a general understanding of Sámi landowning rights, the extent and nature of these rights have been unclear, at least until the establishment of the Finnmark Estate (FeFo) in 2005 (Hernes & Selle, Reference Hernes and Selle2021). Up to this point, most of the land in the northern county of Finnmark where the majority of Sámi live (an area roughly the size of Denmark or Belgium) was considered Crown land and administered by a state-based institution (Statsskog) in which the traditional Sámi activity of reindeer herding was strongly protected by law. As part of the discussions and deep conflicts around Sámi land rights, a conflict already visible in the mobilisation around the Alta Power Plant around 1980, a new law, the Finnmark Act, came into being and established FeFo to take over the administration of the land, in effect making it the largest private landowner in the country. As a result, Finnmark’s land was no longer Crown land. FeFo is a co-governance institution between the Sámi Parliament and Finnmark County in which the Sámi Parliament and Finnmark County appoint three board members each (Spitzer & Selle, Reference Spitzer and Selle2019). This constituted a major yet controversial step forward in Sámi self-determination since the Sámi constitute only around 15% of the population in the county (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
The Act says that FeFo should meet the interests of all people in Finnmark, but it outlines a special responsibility in securing and developing traditional Sámi culture and livelihoods. The Finnmark Act itself has similarities with Canadian co-management boards (Spitzer & Selle, Reference Spitzer and Selle2019). As part of the development of the Finnmark Act, a new system of formalised consultation between the state and the Sámi Parliament, similar in certain respects to the Inuit-Crown Partnership Committee, was also established, thereby giving the Sámi Parliament a much stronger voice when it comes to defining Sámi interests in consultations with the state (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018). In general, the close relationship between the state and the Sámi Parliament, now increasingly influenced by national and international Indigenous law, is central to most of what has happened since the rise of the Sámi Parliament.
However, these deep-going institutional improvements in Sámi self-determination would not have happened was it not for the reorientation and increasing strength of Rokkan’s third dimension, Sámi identity. The identity dimension is core to being Indigenous and is particularly important in a country in which the Sámi lack territorial autonomy and individual Sámi are strongly integrated into Norwegian society and can easily exit from Sámi politics and Sámi ways of life if they want (Hirschman, Reference Hirschman1970).
As a democratically elected body of Sámi that sits alongside and advises the Norwegian Parliament on cultural matters affecting the Sámi people of Norway, the Sámi Parliament also carries some influence over economic policies, particularly in core Sámi areas in northern Norway. In doing so, it promotes a very traditional conception of a land-based economy, focusing first and foremost on reindeer herding, but also other primary industries like small-scale agriculture and fjord fishing that are understood as core industries that are central to historical traditions and culture of the Sámi. Given that reindeer herding is so closely intertwined with Sámi culture and requires large expanses of undeveloped land, this traditionalist approach has often brought the Parliament and its allies in the Sámi community (especially the Norwegian Reindeer Organization) into conflict with resource development companies (mining, oil, and gas) and renewable energy interests (particularly in areas such as wind power) (Angell et al., Reference Angell, Nygaard and Selle2020).
Reindeer herding serves as both an economic activity and a core cultural component of Sámi identity. This has profound consequences not only for the Sámi understanding of the economic dimension but also for its relationship to the identity dimension. It may even influence our understanding of the territorial dimension itself and the role of Sámi land rights since reindeer herding appears so important for the survival of economic and cultural traditionalism, making it almost impossible to decouple reindeer herding from Sámi culture more generally. Large-scale economic projects are understood as detrimental to reindeer herding and other traditional economic activities and, by extension, the survival of traditional Sámi culture and livelihoods (Angell et al., Reference Angell, Nygaard and Selle2020). This clearly shows how strongly interlinked economy, territory, and culture (identity) are in the Norwegian context and how difficult it is to break with this type of Sámi traditionalism and “holism”, particularly in the absence of territorial autonomy. This structural position is particularly challenging in a period of transformative pressure from new large-scale global industries.
While the prevailing tendency among the Sámi elite is to support the traditional economy over more modern economic activities, it is important to recognise that there is deep-seated conflict among the Sámi and Sámi institutions like the Sámi Parliament and the co-management body, the Finnmark Estate, on how the economic sector and its role should be understood. This is a difficult situation since the core Sámi areas in northern Norway face significant demographic challenges with extensive migration towards the cities that, as in Canada, necessitate the creation of new employment opportunities that cannot be found within the traditional economy (Angell et al., Reference Angell, Nygaard and Selle2020).
However, a more varied understanding of the role of the economy on Sámi self-determination may be emerging. FeFo has developed a less traditionalist and more modernist approach to economic development supporting also large-scale industrial industries. It has encouraged resource development projects in areas such as wind power and mining, arguing that this is necessary to adapt to changing circumstances brought about by economic globalisation and to keep the resource revenues in the area. FeFo has even supported the building of the Nussir copper mine in the Sámi coastal area of Kvalsund, an extremely contested project within Sámi communities. The Sámi Parliament has been strongly against building the mine, but the municipality and Finnmark County fully support the idea (Angell et al., Reference Angell, Nygaard and Selle2020). In this community, the need for employment opportunities trumps the interests of reindeer herding, and this runs counter to the Sámi Parliament’s traditionalist outlook on economic development. However, this position is deeply contested even within FeFo itself, putting it in a very difficult position in relation to one of its “mother institutions”, the Sámi Parliament (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch, Selle, Hernes and Selle2021).
In any case, what appears to be emerging is a more varied economic discussion springing out of highly contested and different understandings of what constitutes Sámi identity and who is really a Sámi. The result is increased internal conflict among the Sámi, not the least since there is very weak support of Sámi traditionalism in the local and regional environment outside of the core areas of inner Finnmark. It is even contested in inner Finnmark since most people are not part of the traditional economy and need employment and income (Falch & Selle, Reference Falch and Selle2018).
As in Canada, the last several decades have seen a remarkable transition in the political and, to some extent, economic self-determination of the Sámi. However, pressure from new, large-scale industrial projects has meant the strengthening of economic and cultural traditionalism, the narrow part of the economy the Sámi themselves have some control over, particularly in the core Sámi areas. This economic and cultural traditionalism is strengthened and emboldened by international and national Indigenous law. The result is a more challenging and conflictual position for the Sámi locally and regionally, squeezing Sámi politics between modernisation and traditionalism (Angell et al., Reference Angell, Nygaard and Selle2020).
Discussion and conclusions
These case studies have shown that somewhat similar Indigenous mobilisations have resulted in different types of institutionalisation, processes, and outcomes, especially in terms of the ability of Indigenous peoples in Canada and Norway to self-determine. Although it is possible to draw some general conclusions, based on our understanding of the Inuit and Sámi cases, it is important to note that their experiences are different and not necessarily representative of other Indigenous peoples. Even so, the lessons from these cases are generally relevant, even if the interplay between economy, territory, and identity takes different forms depending on the Indigenous groups in question and on the broader contexts that they face. In the case of the Inuit and the Sámi, it is quite clear that questions of territory and identity play an important role in how these Indigenous peoples engage in political and economic development. This interplay, however, has occurred differently in each case.
Both cases have similar backgrounds in that the Inuit and Sámi were subjected to intensive colonisation by the state prior to the 1970s, even if the colonisation process took a quite different form and the Sámi were less territorially concentrated and much more deeply integrated into mainstream Norwegian society compared to the Inuit in Canada (Spitzer & Selle, Reference Spitzer and Selle2019). The territorial expansion of the state was driven by a desire to secure the economic and resource wealth of the regions where these peoples lived and to enhance and protect state sovereignty. Both groups were unable to resist this expansion. In the post-war period, the integration of Inuit and Sámi into the modern state continued through sedentarisation, the imposition of the welfare state and the wage economy. At the same time, increased knowledge about developments in other parts of the circumpolar north and the world more generally enhanced the awareness of Inuit and Sámi about their respective predicaments. In this context, state-led or state-supported resource development projects and the absence of consultation with the people whose territories would be impacted by these projects provided the impetus for their political mobilisation and subsequent institutional changes.
These processes are consistent with Rokkan’s central argument that the state’s desire for the resources and territory of the periphery drives the expansion of the state and a reaction from peripheral regions, often in the form of demands for greater autonomy. Rokkan hypothesises that a weak regional economy with unclear boundaries and a lack of a strong regional identity makes the process of mobilising for greater political autonomy difficult or even impossible for peripheral regions. This was certainly the case for Inuit and Sámi in the 19th century and the first part of the 20th century. Their quest to realise greater self-determination since the 1970s has followed two distinct paths, each involving different interactions and manifestations of Rokkan’s central dimensions. The Inuit in Canada have developed stronger territorially based regional governance institutions, both in their individual regions and, more recently, throughout Inuit Nunangat as a whole. Although these regions are still heavily dependent on state support and embedded or nested within existing state jurisdictions, they have dedicated development corporations or administrative departments whose role is to support local economic development and diversification. The Sámi, on the other hand, being more integrated and less socially and economically marginalised, have developed a strong yet dispersed national identity and presence. While their political institutions and the Sámi themselves are highly integrated into and dependent on the Norwegian state and the general economy, the Sámi Parliament supports more traditional activities to strengthen culture and identity that brings them into conflict with other forms of economic activity.
The recognition of Indigenous rights on both the domestic and international levels is highly interrelated and, in both cases, occurred at about the same time as the political mobilisation of Indigenous peoples. These developments also resulted in a change in attitude and policy towards Indigenous people on the part of non-Indigenous governments. In Norway, the government was profoundly influenced by changes on the international level and was an enthusiastic signatory to and implementer of international declarations on Indigenous rights. In Canada, the government was not as enthusiastic about signing onto international declarations, but change came nevertheless through constitutional reform and domestic court rulings that affirmed Aboriginal and treaty rights more broadly. In general, the influence of these legal developments and the judicialisation of Indigenous politics, features that were marginal when Rokkan developed his theory of regional mobilisation and development, are central to recent changes in the relationship between peripheralised, Indigenous regions and the Canadian and Norwegian states. These changes have empowered Indigenous peoples such as the Inuit and the Sámi by creating new avenues and tools to protect their lands and revitalise their cultures.
What we see is a transformation in which Indigenous rights and state responsibility and the relationship between state and Indigenous groups have deeply changed. This has had a significant impact on Indigenous peoples and their relationship with the state and, by extension, the interplay between economy, territory, and identity. The logic of this interplay changes when the judicialisation of Indigenous politics becomes a central feature. Somewhat paradoxically, in the Norwegian case in particular, what we now see is almost the opposite of what Rokkan expected, Indigenous strength out of weakness and vulnerability with extensive public responsibilities for securing and strengthening the position of Indigenous culture and livelihoods within mainstream society.
A key difference between the two cases, and one with important implications for Indigenous self-determination, is the existence of settled land claims agreements (treaties) in the case of Inuit in Canada and the absence of such agreements in Norway. As the main outcome from the political mobilisation that occurred across Inuit Nunangat, land claims agreements and the institutions that arose from them have set Inuit on a different path in terms of political and economic development because they entrench self-rule and a certain level of regional autonomy. In this sense, they are consistent with and reflections of the Canadian federal system in which these regions are firmly embedded. Indeed, the differences between the Canadian and Norwegian approaches – regional, land-based solutions or treaties in Canada and national solutions such as the Sami Parliament in Norway – can partly be explained by the design of each state. As a federal state, Canada would naturally look to regional and territorial solutions whereas, as unitary state, Norway would think in terms of national solutions.
Land claims agreements in Canada provide a basis for building self-determining regions that have an interest in maintaining a traditional economy (because of its central cultural significance but also because of the contribution it makes to people’s daily well-being) but also engaging with more modern forms of economic development (because of the benefits that this provides to communities in the form of employment and revenues). As elected bodies that are accountable to citizens at the regional level, regional governments and administrative bodies have an interest in pursuing both forms of economic development. At times, these two economic models come into conflict, especially when modern economic activities such as resource development pose an ecological threat to the traditional economic practices. Despite these challenges, however, Inuit seem to be committed to pursuing a hybrid model of economic development including both the wage and traditional economies. By comparison, political and economic development in Norwegian Sápmi follows a more decidedly traditionalist path. Without the territorial certainty established by land claims agreements, it is difficult to define, at least in a legal sense, the boundaries of a Sámi region and, therefore, to have real autonomy and decision-making power and responsibility when it comes to non-traditional economic matters.
While both Inuit regional authorities in Canada and the Sámi Parliament in Norway are heavily dependent on state funding for public sector employment and support for programmes such as education, healthcare, and social services, Inuit do have their own funding to invest in economic development, especially through compensation funds attached to the land claims agreements, which are managed by the Inuit development corporations on behalf of the Inuit beneficiaries to those agreements. These funds have been invested in a variety of businesses and programmes that support regional economic and socio-cultural development. More substantial development projects, such as mines, however, are initiated and controlled by large corporations and often take place on lands that were reserved for the Crown in the land claims agreements. Nevertheless, the Inuit development corporations are not averse to engaging with resource companies on behalf of Inuit communities, in ways the Sámi Parliament will not, and have secured various agreements that yield benefits in the form of revenue sharing for community and economic development, training and opportunities for local businesses.
The activities and jurisdiction of the Sámi Parliament in economic development are limited as the Parliament and the reindeer herding sector are completely dependent on state funding. In many respects, this dependency decides the type of economic development in which they engage. There is no equivalent of the Inuit development corporations to support business development that may serve as a bridge between the traditional and modern economies. In fact, many Sámi are working within the comprehensive public sector of the north. In state-friendly Norway with strong municipalities, the Sámi are demanding public responsibility and are more suspicious of the market sector, especially large-scale industries.
The Sámi Parliament views itself first and foremost as the guardian of Sámi culture, as expressed by its strong support for reindeer herding and other traditional economic activities. Given the nature of reindeer herding, its need for large expanses of unspoiled territory for grazing, and its overarching cultural importance to the Sámi identity, this development path brings the traditionalists into conflict with resource developers, including mining companies, but also renewable energy developers in areas such as wind power. Furthermore, unlike in the Inuit regions, the Sámi Parliament’s lack of fiscal (tax) and legal power gives it few incentives to support large-scale industrial development.
The Sámi communities and individual Sámi are so integrated into the overarching economic networks of Norwegian society that there is little room for and expectation of autonomous decision-making outside the narrow confines of supporting the traditional economy. This is a very important difference from the situation in Canada where regional governments and corporations are more focused on creating more general development and employment opportunities. Reinforcing this tendency is the fact that the Norwegian government is very much influenced by international norms, and this encourages the protection and support of traditional Indigenous activities. By comparison, governments in Canada, especially at the federal level, but also at the provincial level, do not have a long history of adhering to such international norms. That said, it is important to note that Canada’s domestic norms on Aboriginal rights are well-established and are gradually strengthening.
In summary, these two cases provide important insights on the interaction between economy, territory, and identity in peripheralised Indigenous societies and on structural variation in Indigenous self-determination more in general. In Canada, Inuit appear to be moving closer to Rokkan’s understanding of the role of the economic sector in supporting territorial autonomy and cultural development. In other words, we see a stronger emphasis on balancing economic modernisation and tradition within a territorially institutionalised space that could possibly be developing into a diverse economic sector emphasising economic growth and cultural sustainability. In Norway, however, Indigenous rights increasingly mean traditionalism, or economic development based on traditional activities which is strongly supported by domestic actors and international norms. At the same time, the Sámi are strongly integrated into the general society and economy and lack territorial autonomy. This type of structure is far removed from Rokkan’s original understanding of the role of the economic dimension and its interplay with territory and identity. Self-determination and strength out of weakness and vulnerability were definitely not part of Rokkan’s’ cognitive framing and digging deeper into such important systemic differences across countries is central to further comparative Indigenous research.
Acknowledgments
This article is dedicated to Stein Rokkan, a pioneer in the study of the political economy of peripheral regions. A version of this manuscript was presented at the 4th International Conference on Public Policy in Montreal in 2019 and we are grateful to our colleagues who provided feedback on earlier drafts of this article and to the anonymous reviewers for their time and helpful comments. We would like to acknowledge that our research was informed by the perspectives and insights of officals at all levels of government in Canada and Norway, including those in Inuit Nunangat and Sápmi.
Conflict of interest
The authors declare none.
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