North·Feature

Through a lens of Inuit knowledge, Nunavut enviro-tech program arms students to tackle climate change

Now in its 35th year, the environmental technology program at the Nunavut Arctic College in Iqaluit has been around since before Nunavut was even a territory. It is being hailed as a successful partnership between science and traditional Inuit knowledge.

Environment technology program in Iqaluit has had 230 graduates over 35 years

Scattered across the tundra, several people kneel to examine moss and other ground cover.
For 35 years, the environmental technology program at Nunavut Arctic College in Iqaluit has provided training focused on the land, how ecosystems work and the management strategies adopted by different levels of government. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)

It's where Andrew Keim learned how to read directions and weather in the snow, wind and waves — a program that helped set the course of his life.

Now in its 35th year, the environmental technology program at the Nunavut Arctic College in Iqaluit has been around since before Nunavut was even a territory. It is being hailed as a successful partnership between science and traditional Inuit knowledge, or Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit (IQ).

It's more than just sitting in a classroom, Keim notes — it takes students out on the land to learn about their natural environment hands-on.

"[It] gives you that knowledge base, that science — you're out on the land, you're spending time there ... and the more experences you have on the land, you get to know what's kind of normal," he said.

Now the regional manager of waters for Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada, Keim graduated from the program — known locally as ETP — in the early 1990s. Even in those days, the principles of Inuit knowledge threaded through the program.

"I like to say that IQ is the lens through which our science should be focused," Keim said.

A classroom of students sit at their desks, watching a man with glasses point to a projector screen.
Jason Carpenter, right, and his students during a class on different aspects of climate change in late October. (Matisse Harvey/Radio-Canada)
A young man listens to a lecture.
Twenty-two-year-old Ian McDonald, left, has been a hunter since he was 12. (Matisse Harvey/Radio-Canada)

"All the science that we do on wildlife and marine mammals, fish ... it's IQ that will actually guide it. Because more people have spent more time with those animals, seeing those animals and learning what's normal and right. And as the climate changes, as things evolve, as development occurs, they're better able to put their fingers on the pulse and be able to say, 'Well, that's a change.'"

Studying the Arctic climate

Climate change wasn't a specific issue discussed in class back in Keim's day. Today's students, on the other hand, have lively exchanges about how a warming climate will affect the Arctic. The students report on their observations in the field, their reality and their concerns. Outside of class, many of them are also experienced hunters.

Ian McDonald, a second-year student from Iqaluit, said the time he spends on the land hunting and fishing helped prompt him to choose the program. He's been hunting seals, snow geese and ptarmigan since he was 12.

Two people bend over equipment in the snow.
Two students collect water samples as part of an annual limnology field course near Iqaluit in April of 1998. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)

"Even in my 10 years of hunting and being out on the ice and stuff, the thickness of the ice has changed quite a bit. The amount of time it's lasting, compared to how it used to be even just 10 years ago, I've noticed a big difference," he said, adding it makes him concerned for the safety of other hunters.

Climate change is hitting the Arctic hard, where warming is occurring at a rate roughly four times faster than in the rest of the world.

One of the drivers of this trend is the Arctic warming effect, a phenomenon that occurs when sea ice and snow, which naturally reflect the sun's heat, melt into sea water. The water then absorbs more solar radiation and warms up.

A group of people help move large blocks of ice into a circle shape.
An igloo-building workshop northwest of Iqaluit in April 2002. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)

The consequences — longer ice-free seasons, unpredictable weather conditions and warmer waters — are felt at all levels of the Arctic ecosystem's food chain.

Educating a generation of resource protectors

The environmental technology program has had just over 230 graduates over its many years. The territorial government estimates 90 per cent of those are Inuit.

Graduates typically find jobs in wildlife conservation, natural resource management and environmental protection.

A group of people in orange overalls circle around a device to sample water.
Students collect water samples during a marine biology lesson in Peterhead Inlet, near Iqaluit, in September 2003. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)

"Some of the earliest graduates have already gone on to be leaders ... they're already directors, they're already assistant deputy ministers. They're already in great positions, making leadership decisions," said Jason Carpenter, who completed the program himself and now teaches it as the program's director.

"They do step up ... and I think in many cases they rise to that sort of challenge in their communities. They go back to their communities and they get a good job."

Over the years, climate change has become part of the students' daily lives, first in their living environment and then in their classroom discussions.

A group of people sit in a circle in front of a tent.
A camp during a workshop in Peterhead Inlet, near Iqaluit, in September 1992. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)
A group of people sit on snowmobiles.
Andrew Keim, far right, and classmates during a field course in Peterhead Inlet, west of Iqaluit, in the spring of 1993. (Submitted by Andrew Keim)

It also impacts Inuit culture, said Alannah Allurut, a student from Coral Harbour — mainly because the land is intimately linked to language, food, traditional knowledge and lifestyle.

"My main concern is whether or not our wildlife will be able to adapt as quickly as things are changing. And what can we do to better protect our environment up here?" Allurut said.

"If we start losing these animals, then we're losing more than just our food security. It's like we're losing our culture, because we won't be able to teach our future generations about [it]."

A distance shot of a man hunting a seal on the ice.
Ian McDonald, photographed hunting a seal in June. (Submitted by Ian McDonald)

Combining two schools of thought

Climate change in Canada's North attracts a large number of researchers each year, particularly in the summer, a time when fieldwork is most effective. In recent years, more scientists are incorporating Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit into their research process.

"Today, there is way more effort to collaborate, to share, to discuss with local communities," Carpenter said. "It's far different than it was 20 years ago. It's way better than it was 40 years ago. And it's getting better. I think everybody's trying to figure out how to do it in a meaningful way."

The teacher believes that, contrary to popular belief, Western science and traditional Inuit knowledge are not as diametrically opposed as they sometimes appear.

A scenic shot of sunlight glinting off water against a dramatic sky, with ice and snow.
Grise Fiord, Canada's northernmost community, pictured here in October 2020. (Matisse Harvey/Radio-Canada)
A portrait of a smiling woman in a t-shirt that says Coral Harbour Strong.
Alannah Allurut is a second-year student in the environmental technology program at Nunavut Arctic College in Iqaluit. (Matisse Harvey/Radio-Canada)

"Science is supposed to be answering questions based on observations, information and measurements, and I think Inuit make a lot of observations and answer a lot of things based on their experiences and observations out on the land," he said.

Carpenter believes the key to smooth collaboration is to involve Inuit communities early in the research process.

"Make sure you're asking a question that's relevant to Inuit. Make sure you're going through a methodology that Inuit understand and accept, and feels credible [to them]," he said. "And then include those Inuit community members throughout the research, the data collection, the interpretation of the data."

A portrait of a smiling man at a desk.
Jason Carpenter took the environmental technology program in 1998 before becoming a teacher and then a manager a few years later. (Matisse Harvey/Radio-Canada)
A group of people in white lab coats examine something.
From left to right: Ooleena Metuq, Shannon Arsenault, Jordan-Lee Copland and Derek Irwin, during a workshop on contaminants in Nunavut migratory birds, including eider ducks and snow geese, in September 2022. (Submitted by Jason Carpenter)

But while collaboration between southern scientists and Inuit is important, it may not always be the best way forward, Allurut said. If there were more Inuit researchers, they would be able to master both sides.

Though she hasn't completed the program yet, Allurut is already working for the Canadian Wildlife Service, a branch of Environment and Climate Change Canada. She is particularly interested in migratory birds and hopes to one day become a biologist.

"The [program] takes us out of our comfort zone, deepens our knowledge and builds our confidence," she said. "I hope we can aspire to be future leaders and become an inspiration."


This story was translated and condensed from its original French version.