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Frozen assets : private sector actors in arctic governance Parente, Genevieve 2017

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   FROZEN ASSETS: PRIVATE SECTOR ACTORS IN ARCTIC GOVERNANCE     by  GENEVIEVE PARENTE  B.A., The University of Virginia, 2000 M.A., The George Washington University, 2012   A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF   DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY  in  THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES  (Geography)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA  (Vancouver)  August 2017     © Genevieve Parente, 2017          	 ii Abstract  The circumpolar Arctic epitomizes global change as political, social, and economic activities continually reconfigure the region. Diverse actors negotiate around a range of pressing issues such as climate change, trade, defence, and natural resource development. In this international milieu, states seek to pursue national interests as well as cooperate with non-state, supra-national, and sub-national entities that increasingly influence the governance landscape.  This project examines how private sector development and state interests interplay in efforts to develop Arctic natural resources and asks what this tells us about the role of the private sector in regional governance.  This project contributes to theories of new forms of state power and the political construction of space, especially in critical geopolitical literature.  It connects Arctic development and geopolitical literatures through an analysis of the implications of private sector development decisions for state sovereignty.  It examines evolving forms of transnational governance in the context of globalized political and socio-economic processes.  The circumpolar region is an excellent laboratory for scholars to consider similar issues of sustainability in broader global contexts.   This study draws its empirical analysis from two case studies: the Siberian city of Norilsk, Russia and the North Slope Borough in Alaska, USA.  The cases focus on recent multi-party policy negotiations at these sites of natural resource development.  They are theorized in their own right, as examples of processes in diverse regions, with linkages between them also drawn out.  I use a methodological approach that emphasizes the ‘how’ of governance, and explores the practices of policy-making.  This framework captures the dynamic social processes that underlie governance in the circumpolar region. 	 iii This dissertation aims to understand the intertwined roles of states and private sector actors in Arctic political affairs.  However, it also contributes to our understanding of the global political economy beyond the Arctic.  Economic development and investment decision-making in the circumpolar region have implications for Arctic states, global natural resource markets, energy importing states, as well as for northern residents.    	 iv  Lay Summary  A growing number of stakeholders in the circumpolar Arctic are attempting to manage the region according to their own interests. Arctic and non-Arctic countries claim natural resources and strategic geopolitical advantage in the area. At the same time, indigenous residents and environmental organizations aim to preserve traditional lifeways and the fragile environment, and transnational organizations such as the Arctic Council attempt to mediate these diverse voices. Among these voices, this study focuses on private sector actors and how they shape regional governance. The dissertation draws on two case studies in the U.S. and Russian Arctic to examine how natural resource development companies advance their own interests by either strategically cooperating with or by marginalizing other actors. In so doing, they help create the narratives and material conditions that shape development paths in the region.                      	 v   Preface  This dissertation is an original intellectual product of the author, Genevieve Parente. The study draws on original primary material from three research trips to the Arctic. I took two trips to Krasnoyarsk Krai, Russia in 2011 and 2013, and one trip to Alaska, USA in 2015.   Data from the Norilsk trips contributes to the empirical basis for the Chapter 5 case study.  Fieldwork in Norilsk was done in two rounds in 2011 and 2013.  I participated in the second visit in 2013 as an independent researcher.  It is covered by an ethics certificate issued by The George Washington University.  In 2011, I visited Norilsk for the first time as an M.A student to collect data for my thesis. Only material from this first visit has been used elsewhere and is cited here in a manner that acknowledges that previous use.  In Chapter 5 I refer to my master’s thesis entitled “Comparative Migration Trends in Russian Arctic cities: Igarka and Norilsk” (2012) completed at The George Washington University in Washington DC. I also refer to data from a publication entitled, “Living in the New North: Migration to and from Russian Arctic Cities,” used with permission from Parente, Shiklomanov and Streletskiy (2012).   Data from the Alaska trip contributes to the empirical basis for Chapter 4. UBC Human Ethics certificate number H14-02661 covered the fieldwork reported in Chapter 4 (the Alaskan case). Data from the Alaska visit contributes wholly original primary material that has not been cited elsewhere. The dissertation also builds on publications that I have written as a doctoral student. I  refer to material, used with permission, drawn from my own publication, “Shaping Russia’s 	 vi new Arctic The Union of Cities in the Arctic and the High North” in Laruelle’s New Mobilities and Social Changes in Russia’s New Arctic (Routledge) (Parente, 2016).  Chapters 2 and 3 rework empirical material that was also used in a previously published article entitled, “Assessing the role of resource extraction companies in Arctic decision-making: a new methodological approach” (Polar Geography, 2015).  All figures are either open source or used with permission.                   	 vii   Table of Contents  Abstract ............................................................................................................................. ii  Lay Summary ................................................................................................................... iv  Preface ............................................................................................................................... v  Table of Contents ............................................................................................................ vii  List of Tables ................................................................................................................... ix  List of Figures ................................................................................................................... x  Acknowledgements .......................................................................................................... xi  Chapter 1: Introduction ..................................................................................................... 1 1.1 Dissertation Outline ........................................................................................ 8  Chapter 2: Methodology and Research Design .............................................................. 10 2.1 Policy and Knowledge Production ................................................................ 10 2.2 Research Methods and Fieldwork ................................................................. 13 2.3 Case Study Descriptions and Comparative Approach .................................. 21  Chapter 3: Arctic Geopolitics, Knowledge Production, and Governance ...................... 28 3.1 New Sovereignties and Governance Arrangements in the Arctic ................. 30 3.2 Transnational Governance ............................................................................ 35 3.2.1 Evolving forms of state power ....................................................... 39 3.3 Knowledge Production .................................................................................. 52 3.3.1 Security and development .............................................................. 57   Chapter 4: Offshore Oil and Its Discontents: Negotiating in the North Slope and          Beyond ................................................................................................................ 69 4.1 Petro-Nation: The North Slope and American Energy Dilemmas ................ 72 4.2 History of Alaska and the North Slope Borough .......................................... 75 4.3 Current Political Economy: The North Slope and Alaska ............................ 85 4.3.1 The political economy of Alaska ................................................... 85 4.3.2 The North Slope Borough political economy and relationships .... 89 4.3.3 North Slope Relationships: Local, state, and federal ................... 102 4.4 Offshore Oil Decision-Making Dynamics .................................................. 112 4.4.1 Federal offshore oil dilemmas ..................................................... 113 4.4.2 Shell’s federal and local strategies in the North Slope ................ 124 4.5 Shell’s Profit-Sharing Agreement ............................................................... 157 4.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 165 	 viii  Chapter 5: Norilsk Nickel and Migration Restrictions in the Russian Arctic ............... 170 5.1 Norilsk’s Development Conundrum ........................................................... 174 5.1.1 History of Norilsk and Norilsk Nickel: Diverging trajectories .... 178 5.1.2 Norilsk Nickel: Political and economic relationships .................. 184 5.2 Post-Soviet Political Economy: Municipal Co-Management Strategies .... 194 5.3 Norilsk Nickel’s Arctic Zone Proposal ....................................................... 204 5.4 State and Private Sector Roles and Relationships in Russia’s Arctic ......... 221  Chapter 6: Local Decisions, Global Governance: Norilsk and the North Slope .......... 225 6.1 Corporate Use of Security and Development Rhetoric ............................... 226 6.1.1 Norilsk Nickel: Migration restrictions ......................................... 228 6.1.2 Shell: Profit-sharing agreement ................................................... 233 6.2 Transformations of State Power .................................................................. 240 6.2.1 Sovereignty via efficiency ........................................................... 241 6.2.2 States as transnational decision-makers ....................................... 253 6.3 Public and Private Sector Knowledge Production ...................................... 259 6.4 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 264  Chapter 7: Conclusions: Conceptual and Empirical Findings and Implications .......... 267 7.1 New Conceptualizations of Arctic Governance .......................................... 267 7.2 New Research Trajectories ......................................................................... 276  References ..................................................................................................................... 280    	 ix  List of Tables   Table 1. Norilsk’s Population Decline .......................................................................... 196                                           	 x List of Figures   Figure 1.    Map of the North Slope of Alaska, USA and Norilsk, Russia ....................... 1 Figure 2.    The North Slope of Alaska, USA ................................................................. 69 Figure 3.    New municipal building and service vehicles in Barrow, NSB ................... 93 Figure 4.    Residential street in Barrow, NSB ................................................................ 94 Figure 5.    NSB Health and Social Services Department .............................................. 95 Figure 6.    Locally sourced gas for Barrow households, NSB ....................................... 96 Figure 7.    Federal environmental agencies in Alaska ................................................. 114 Figure 8.    Map of Norilsk, Russia ............................................................................... 170 Figure 9.    Norilsk Nickel employee ............................................................................ 175 Figure 10.  Norilsk City landscape ............................................................................... 177 Figure 11.  Norilsk’s diverse population ....................................................................... 202   	 xi Acknowledgements  This dissertation would not have been possible with the help of many people.  First and foremost, I thank my parents, without whom I could not have pursued a doctoral degree.  Thank you as well to my advisors Merje Kuus and David Ley for their generous academic and financial support.  I would also like to thank my committee members Jim Glassman and Dan Hiebert. The Department of Geography at The George Washington University Department of Geography funded my Russian fieldwork in part through a Campbell Graduate Student Summer Research Award.  The Moscow State University Geography department and Valeriy Grebenets sponsored and organized research program.  Further support came from the Igarka Geocryological Laboratory, Dr. Nikita Tananaev (RAS), the Norilsk City Assembly, and Norilsk Nickel’s Polar Division.  U.S. National Science Foundation grants ARC-102119 and ARC-1231294 also supported my research. These grants, as well as a grant from the National Research Council of Norway 34306/1/ECNS21015N were awarded to The George Washington University Department of Geography.  My inclusion in this project was made possible by Nikolay Shiklomanov and Dmitry Streletskiy (GWU).  Marlene Laruelle, also at The George Washington University, has generously supported my fieldwork and subsequent research financially and scholastically.  My U.S. fieldwork was made possible by the Dr. Lakhbir K. Jassal Graduate Travel Award (UBC) and through a Graduate Research Award awarded by the UBC Faculty of Arts.  This work was made possible logistically thanks to Gary Kofinas and Chanda Meeks at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, Celia Crosset and her family in Anchorage, and Laura Thomas in Barrow.  Thank you. I am indebted to Tim Heleniak for his support, and to Aileen 	 xii Aserson Espiritu and Andrey Petrov for sending opportunities my way.  Finally, to Kelsey and especially to Alexander.	 1 Chapter 1: Introduction  Two settlements, the Siberian city of Norilsk, Russia and the North Slope Borough in Alaska, USA, sit geographically on remote edges of the Arctic (Figure 1).  Located on almost opposite sides of the circumpolar region, they are both sites of considerable natural resource development—minerals in Norilsk, and oil and gas in the North Slope.  Despite the peripheral locations, their resource operations managed by large, private sector resource corporations knit them closely into the political economy of their nations, as well as to global audiences and markets.  Their local development is of interest to a range of stakeholders far beyond their immediate borders.  These areas have long been the focus of public and private economic investment, government policy, and geostrategic calculations as multiple stakeholders seek to control development to further their own goals.   Figure 1.  Map of the North Slope of Alaska, USA, and Norilsk, Russia.  Open source image from Wikipedia. Annotated by G. Parente.  	 2  This study examines these two sites to understand how corporations and state interests intertwine in efforts to develop Arctic natural resources, and what this tells us about the role of the private sector in regional decision-making.  In both sites, shifting constellations of stakeholders negotiate cooperatively and contentiously.  These case studies represent a diverse Arctic.  Dynamic governance practices play out throughout the circumpolar region as different actors negotiate their interests around issues as varied and complex as socio-economic change, economic development, environmental protection, and geostrategic affairs. On the transnational stage of the Arctic, states pursue their own national interests as well as negotiate with diverse sub-national and non-state entities that also seek to shape regional decision-making. The American Arctic is the site of the first empirical case study.  I examine the recently abandoned, controversial offshore oil development of Royal Dutch Shell Corporation in the Chukchi Sea, off Alaska’s North Slope.  Negotiations to share anticipated offshore drilling profits between Shell and North Slope indigenous corporations indicate that stakeholder dynamics are more complex than most analyses suggest. The North Slope is a major petroleum producer for the United States, as well as an indigenous-managed municipality.  Fluid stakeholder alliances and overlapping claims extend from local villages to global resource markets.  This case focuses on Shell Corporation as the primary private sector actor rather than indigenous corporations, both because I examine Shell’s offshore initiative, and to create a more clear parallel with the second case study, which also features a large, multinational, private sector actor, Norilsk Nickel. Here, Shell influenced federal Arctic and energy agendas as it promoted its own offshore oil program as a means to ensure economic and energy 	 3 security locally, nationally, and in Alaska.  The company buttressed this rhetoric with spending and material investments. Shell enrolled the North Slope community in offshore development through narratives of economic security, and practices such as profit sharing and selective stakeholder alliances. The company largely overrode concerns about local control of environmentally sensitive whaling waters that are the foundation of traditional livelihoods and Inupiat identity. A second empirical case involves the powerful Norilsk Nickel Corporation in Norilsk, Russia.  Norilsk Nickel is among world’s largest private mining and metallurgy companies.  In an effort to improve its own corporate performance, the company intervened in recent federal legislation that defined the administrative borders of Russia’s Arctic region.  Norilsk Nickel sought to toughen restrictions along the border of the new Arctic territory to reduce in-migration into the region, and the city itself.  It linked its own corporate efficiencies to national priorities that consider uncontrolled population mobility and weak borders threats to regional geopolitical and economic security.  Norilsk Nickel’s political interventions in policy areas normally decided by the central state (i.e., setting external border and migration policy) both challenge and reinforce the federal government’s role in setting national security narratives and Arctic development plans. I link my empirical findings to broader theoretical governance debates in order to suggest new conceptualizations of Arctic decision-making.  Arctic governance lies at the intersection of several subfields of geographic inquiry.  This research draws on and contributes to scholarship in the areas of evolving forms of state sovereignty, transnational governance, and critical policy studies. Given the relative novelty of this area of study, I draw from Arctic and non-Arctic literature both within and outside geography.  In so doing 	 4 this study highlights the strengths and weaknesses of Arctic governance scholarship.  The study concludes with some suggestions to improve theoretical frameworks of Arctic decision-making. The primary contribution of this study is its examination of how state sovereignty evolves and operates in cooperative tension with corporations.  I explore how corporations enable states to exert “effective” sovereignty in new ways in the Arctic.  It contributes to emerging scholarship on how new forms of state power operate in evolving global processes. This study addresses a central tension emerging in critical geopolitical debates about the Arctic: how to decentre states in analyses of governance but account for the enduring role of changing states, as well as how to understand evolving forms of transnational sovereignty. (Heininen, 2014).   To address the rise of new stakeholders in Arctic governance, this dissertation focuses on the role of the private sector in regional decision-making.  I theorize corporations as powerful geopolitical entities.  They participate in emerging governance regimes that shape regulatory environments and investment opportunities. A focus on corporations however, also highlights the fact that states remain powerful actors in the region, but exercise sovereignty in new ways. “The state thus operates as a site for contested processes, projects, and strategies; it is a social relation that is produced and transformed through continual struggle” (Brenner & Elden, 2009, p. 364).  In this study I find that corporations encourage states to selectively deploy certain forms of sovereignty.  I draw on studies that seek to understand how Arctic states evolve in the processes of globalization (Gerhardt, Steinberg, Tasch, Fabiano, & Shields, 2010; Heininen & Nicol, 2007a).  Similar research focuses on 	 5 regional economic development and market processes, with some overlap with the previous body of work (Nicol, 2010; Weissling, 1989). This project also draws on and contributes to theories of critical policy studies and knowledge production.  My contributions are, first, an exploration of how private sector actors propose the problems and solutions, the risks and opportunities, around which they and other stakeholders base their decisions.  I find that private sector actors frame their own projects as solutions to specific problems.  Corporations then, are not merely playing within the “rules of the game” set by governments.  Through their activity they help set norms and practices that become new circumpolar regulatory and administrative standards. A second key finding is that corporate and state interaction shape regional norms and policy priorities. The messy dynamics involved in processes of policymaking highlight the blurred, multiscalar lines between public and private sector actors in these cases. These dynamic processes do not allow us to make clear distinctions between state and private sector actors (Parente 2015, p. 230).  It also emphasizes that states in these cases are neither static nor monolithic entities. Divisions within the multiscalar state apparatus render decision-making complex.  Jessop (1990, p. 261) notes the “struggles and rivalries among [the state's] different branches.”  A third finding refers to the nature and impacts of these interactions. In these cases corporations and states co-produce narratives and practices that suggest certain forms of economic development as the means to ensure security.  These actors define security in particular ways, primarily as national security, energy security, or economic security via non-renewable industries.  These actors reiterate and entrench these priorities through their interactions.  As decisions framed in this way aggregate, they shape the region’s 	 6 development along interlinked priorities of national security and economic efficiency. This study refers to the co-production of narratives, texts, and activities to describe the way in which these knowledges and practices developed iteratively through the interactions of different actors in these cases. I draw theoretically on Agnew’s (2007) discussion of how “knowledge [texts and ideas] is made as it circulates; it is never made completely in one place and then simply consumed as is elsewhere” (p. 145-146). Methodologically, I draw on critical policy studies to investigate how these dynamic relationships operate.  To capture the fluidity of Arctic governance I analyze the processes of decision-making that lead to certain policy outcomes.  I conceptualize governance networks and structures as social practices.  In this project stakeholder relationships are considered as explanatory links between political prescriptions and policy outcomes.  The mechanisms of regional policy-making are clarified by examining how corporate and state actors interact in these specific cases of Arctic policymaking. A focus on policy processes both complements and presents an alternative to the prevailing institution-oriented analyses.   This study builds on efforts by critical geographers to critique Arctic governance analyses reliant on International Relations (IR) approaches such as neorealism and liberalism.  In these IR framings, Arctic governance is conceptualized as an ahistorical state-oriented strategic game among institutions with predetermined interests (Heininen, 2014, p. 241). However, although critical Arctic geopolitics questions these orientations, many analyses either do not fully escape these framings or lack empirical alternatives (Dodds, 2010; Dittmer et al. 2011).  Similarly, analyses of new Arctic governance arrangements outside the discipline of Geography also run aground in the Westphalian framework (Shadian, 2010; Wegge, 2011).  My empirical focus on private sector decision-making strengthens critical 	 7 geopolitics approaches to Arctic governance.  It decentres the state as the main unit of analysis and incorporates new stakeholders into analyses of Arctic governance. It also examines how stakeholders construct their interests in relation to each other and across scales; and it reintegrates economics more explicitly into political analyses of the Arctic. Finally, this dissertation contributes to several aspects of transnational governance literature. I find corporations, as non-state actors, influence the practices of state sovereignty in the Arctic.  I examine how they do so.  Second, I find corporations help states navigate the domestic and international tensions they face in globalized processes.  As companies frame their own initiatives as solutions to security and development concerns, they connect local projects to regional, national, and international realms.  They move policy issues between domestic and foreign policy spheres.  As states interact with corporations, corporate projects, and the broader policy issues they involve, their decisions and relationships extend within and beyond their own borders.  These findings also highlight the transnational aspects of apparently local decision-making. As such, this study connects to new debates about the materiality of transnational space (Collyer and King, 2015).  In other words, how to ground material processes in a deterrorialized era of globalization. They also complicate the prevailing theoretical dichotomy of territorialized states and deterritorialized corporations.  As such, this transnational study contributes to Arctic political analyses often bifurcated between local domestic, and transnational geopolitical discussions (Rowe & Blakkisrud, 2014).  In sum, I argue that the multiscalar policy processes of state and corporate actors shape Arctic policy framings that underlie decision-making processes and shape evolving forms of state sovereignty. To understand how this operates, this study focuses on how public 	 8 and private actors navigate their roles and relationships in two specific case studies.  In their interactions, it is clear that the line between public and private has become exceptionally complex in these cases. This study helps us understand states and private sector actors in evolving Arctic political relationships, and how together they shape regional governance and development trajectories in the Arctic.  1.1 Dissertation Outline The dissertation is divided into seven chapters.  The following chapter presents the research design and provides a thorough explanation of the field research. The methodology detailed in this chapter focuses on examining the processes through which policies develop.  This approach is further clarified in Chapter 3, which also reviews the scholarly literature on Arctic decision-making.  This review focuses on geographical literature when possible, but given the youthfulness of the Arctic subfield, it also refers to work outside the Arctic and outside the discipline to help explain these cases.  The fourth chapter presents the first case study of the North Slope Borough in the United States.   Chapter 5 is the second case study of the city of Norilsk in Russia.  This case draws on two research field trips in 2011 and 2013.  Data from the 2013 trip contributes wholly original primary material that has not been published elsewhere.  I also rework some primary and contextual material collected during the first Norilsk visit in 2011 for the different purposes of this thesis.  Some of this material concerning Norilsk as an economically challenged city managed by Norilsk Nickel was published in the M.A. thesis and other publications enumerated in the Preface. Specifically, this chapter builds on original material gathered from these trips that 	 9 consists of local-level demographic, migration, and socio-economic data about Norilsk, as well as insights about these topics from interviewees in Norilsk.  This material establishes the background context for a distinct empirical and conceptual analysis in this dissertation that examines Norilsk Nickel’s intervention in federal Arctic Zone legislation, analyses federal and corporate relations and how they shape state practices of sovereignty, and compares Norilsk’s transnational decision-making dynamics with that of the second case study, the North Slope in Alaska.  I draw upon original data about Norilsk from my earlier work to support my analysis, as there are few alternative sources of such granular socio-economic material from this remote city, and I am one of very few scholars to have conducted interview-based research there.    Chapter 6 synthesizes the empirical cases and places them in a theoretical framework to clarify the cases themselves and their place in broader regional dynamics.  Chapter 7 outlines the main conclusions of this analysis and suggests new directions for further research on Arctic governance.  In this chapter I discuss the utility of the theoretical framework I have outlined in Chapter 6 to bridge the presently siloed analyses in disparate geographical subfields, particularly critical geopolitics (Arctic and non-Arctic) and political economy.  	 10 Chapter 2: Methodologies and Research Design  2.1 Policy and Knowledge Production This dissertation draws its methodological toolbox from critical policy studies, a body of work that traverses geographical, anthropology, sociology, and parts of political science.  Critical policy studies focus on the social relations of policymaking to understand the assumptions and dynamics that underlie regional decision-making and impact policy outcomes. I contribute a policy process methodology to Arctic research and introduce the circumpolar context to knowledge production literature. Critical Arctic scholars aim to understand, to paraphrase Kuus (2014), why this place is “dealt with in a particular manner.” They emphasize that framings and narratives used by powerful actors reify certain forms of knowledge and strengthen the governance roles of particular regional actors. Therefore they aim to integrate the perspectives of a broader range of circumpolar stakeholders to reflect new regional power dynamics, and ask how we can reconsider practices of state sovereignty in this new context. Powell and Dodds (2014) remark on the relationship between knowledge and power in the Arctic. [Current activity] brings to the fore the importance of geographical knowledge (or what we term here knowledges, in order to draw attention to multiple manifestations and complex political economies surrounding the production and circulation of knowledge) in shaping expressions of sovereign power. (p. 4)   Critical scholars recognize the need for alternative frameworks of regional governance that incorporate new actors, knowledges, and fluid circumstances (Powell and Dodds, 2014). As Dittmer et al. (2011, p. 203) note, Arctic geopolitical scholarship needs to advance beyond state-centred analytical frameworks prevalent in both neorealist and liberal readings of the region. 	 11 However, critical analyses of evolving forms of circumpolar governance often persist in emphasizing already dominant institutions and actors, namely states, and how state sovereignty is constructed by the state (alone) and deployed from the centre. Analyses critique state Arctic policy and practice, particularly how states use the Arctic as a place to perform sovereignty through mapping (Steinberg, 2010), Arctic policy framings (Dodds, 2011; Rasell, 2009), and other activities. This approach is useful but can actually entrench state-centred analyses, and by focusing on how the central state ‘projects’ interests and sovereignty on the Arctic, these analyses leave unexplored how the knowledge and assumptions underlying these interests are produced or constructed in multiple locations among several actors. Therefore this study draws on critical policy studies to focus on the production of policy and examine corporations as understudied producers of knowledge.  By focusing on the social and political context of decision-making rather than institutions and pre-determined interests, this approach allows us to examine how corporations and states define problems and solutions and frame debates. These framings are the background on which actors base their decisions, the assumptions that make policy options either possible or unlikely, and they shape governance pathways as they aggregate. Thus, it is through decision-making processes that new regimes of knowledge and new practices of sovereignty emerge. Analyzing particular policies provides links between local and global trends; “windows onto [broader] political processes in which actors, agents, concepts and technologies interact in different sites, creating or consolidating new rationalities of governance and regimes of knowledge” (Shore, Wright, & Pero, 2011, p. 2).  A policy process approach focuses on relationships rather than political structures (Légaré, 2002). The dynamic methodology animates governance networks and structures 	 12 by analyzing them as social practices. It presents an alternative to prevailing actor/network analyses focused on institutions and actors (Dittmer et al., 2011). Static prevailing methodologies fail to capture the literature’s overarching narrative of a “changing” Arctic.   This study, which links governance processes across several scales, also builds on new analytic trends in critical Arctic geopolitical literature, which seek to emphasize connections beyond the Arctic (Heininen 2014, p. 248). Scholars also hope to integrate local governance practices with larger scales. In practice however, much critical Arctic geopolitical literature is “territorially trapped”— it does not account well for how governance occurs across scales. Rather, most work focuses either on subnational or national-level policy and actors, or only supranational organizations, if it ventures abroad (Dodds, 2011).  I focus on political decision-making in the Arctic, which is almost never the object of analysis, while an anthropological and sociological approach is even more rare.  Arctic ethnographies focus on the cultural or socio-economic conditions of Arctic residents (Christensen, 2012; Thompson, 2008).  Some environmental governance scholarship applies network decision-making to regional governance (Lemos & Agrawal 2006; Castells, 2000).  This methodology problematizes this network approach, which retains an institutional focus.  Arctic political and economic research on governance often details or critiques “best practices” or quantitative outcomes.  However, as Wedel notes, “the broad strokes of policy and funding typically [fail] to incorporate the particulars of implementation: who participated, how they were tasked, what their relationships were to each other as well as to the public and to the law” (1998, p. 185). 	 13 Finally, I draw on critical policy research in non-Arctic contexts including the production of policy expertise inside and outside state bureaucracies (Barnett, 2003; Greenhalgh, 2008; Gusterson, 1996).    2.2 Research Methods and Fieldwork This project draws its empirical analysis from two case studies in Arctic settlements: the North Slope Borough in Alaska, USA, and Norilsk in Krasnoyarsk Krai, Russia.  The Arctic’s political and socio-economic processes are highly varied, so these cases are not intended to be directly comparable. The research sites have several differences; however, they represent the varying experiences of diverse Arctic settlements in negotiating with multinational corporations and states.  The cases are theorized in their own right, as examples of processes in diverse regions, with linkages between them to be drawn out later. These sites have in common the stakeholder dynamics that allow me to address the central research question of how corporations shape Arctic governance and state sovereignty. Both feature ongoing multiparty policy negotiations at sites of natural resource development.  I examine the interrelationships among actors at these sites.  The theoretical framework placed around the selection of case studies is part of a policy process methodology, an approach neglected in Arctic literature (Parente, 2015).  I selected the Alaska case study through online news article searches.  Like the Norilsk case, it features a constellation of actors; reliance on natural resource extraction; and the longstanding presence of large resource corporations.  The North Slope offered practical advantages as a study site.  I could obtain logistical support available to conduct research at this location, and extensive information about the community is available online.  Russian 	 14 fieldwork was made possible through my participation in a network of scholars that provided me with the necessary professional contacts and funding. American and Russian fieldwork consisted of site visits, formal and semi-structured interviews, and documentary research using primary and secondary sources. I conducted confidential interviews with individuals involved in city political and economic administration as well as community members.  All interviewee names have been changed and identifying details cloaked, per my agreement with them guaranteeing anonymity.  The interviews were intended to flesh out the political workings of these settlements, and contextualize the main policies being studied.  Interviews provided insights into how various economic arrangements and political relationships have developed and operate.  Site visits and interviews are still unusual among critical geographers researching the Arctic. Although state decisions are made at several levels, critical geopolitical research often relies heavily on federal level discourse analysis (Dodds 2011).  My grounded research offers a nuanced view of how contingency shapes policies at several scales.  Local interviews shed light (wittingly or unwittingly) on the dynamics that underlie formal decision-making.  As Schoenberg (1991, p. 181) says, “Interviews offer unusual access to the often conflicting and shifting strategic logic and historical contingencies that underlie corporate decisions.”  As such, the interviews and site visits supplement other information sources, including official documents and press articles.  There was a significant asymmetry in access in the North Slope compared to Norilsk, which is reflected in the quality of interview material in this dissertation. The North Slope is a high profile settlement, often in the news. Interviews with local institutional representatives are relatively easy to obtain and execute. Norilsk, on the other hand, offered 	 15 several unique challenges and opportunities as a research site. The Russian city has deliberately closed itself off from the outside world, presenting serious limitations for scholars seeking to enter the city and conduct interviews with local authorities.  Norilsk is a “closed city,” an unusual administrative designation that restricts entry by foreigners.  Few foreigners visit this city, and very few have access to civil servants or company officials in an investigatory capacity.  This is a longstanding policy, apparently based on the sensitivity of its resource extraction activities to national security.  Indeed, for many of the employment positions, Russian citizenship is required. Despite these challenges, Norilsk is my case study site because its decision-making dynamics suit my research frame of public and private interaction, and I was able to obtain access through my academic connections. It was an opportunity to study an obscure but important Russian Arctic city. Transnational study is still rare in Arctic research and these field trips offered an unusual opportunity to study the Russian Arctic, which is less studied by North American scholars.   I participated in two research fieldtrips to Norilsk, Russia (pop. 176,000) in 2011 and 2013.  During the first visit, I conducted site visits, participant observation, and interview-based research in the Siberian industrial towns of Norilsk and Igarka in support of my M.A. thesis on migration policy in the Russian Arctic.  During a second fieldtrip in 2013 as an independent scholar, I conducted site visits, participant observation, and archival research.  For both fieldtrips I joined scholars from The George Washington University.1 These scholars also participate in a network of Arctic specialists, the Arctic Research 																																																						1 Russian fieldwork, professional contacts, and funding were made possible through Dr. Kolia Shiklomanov and Dr. Dmitry Streletskiy at The George Washington University, who invited me to participate in a 2011 fieldtrip to Russia. Dr. Laruelle (also at GWU) invited me to participate in a similar fieldtrip in 2013. Dr. Valeriy Grebenets, at the Moscow State University Department of Geography organized and managed these trips. These fieldtrips were funded through grants from the US National Science Foundation. (NSF grant numbers ARC-102119 and ARC-1231294), and the National Research Council of Norway Grant 34306/1/ECNS21015N. 	 16 Coordination Network. This group holds multi-year grants to build a network of scholars working on urban sustainability in Russia's Arctic from the National Science Foundation (NSF) and Norwegian Research Council (as part of the consortium led by the Barents Institute in Tromso University).  It is comprised of interdisciplinary scholars at institutions in several countries, and based at the Elliott School of International Affairs at The George Washington University in Washington, DC.2  I have been invited to participate in several Network conferences, which offered opportunities to interview Russian and Western academics familiar with Russia and the Russian North.  Network members helped translate Russian articles and are familiar with other Slavic information sources and datasets.  I was introduced to these resources in earlier M.A. thesis research (Parente, 2012).  This dissertation makes some use of original data gathered from the 2011 fieldwork in Norilsk conducted for my M.A. degree for the different research objectives of this thesis. I indicate clearly any references to already published work.  The substance of the material obtained from this first trip consists primarily of demographic, migration, and socio-economic data about the city.  In Chapter 5 of this dissertation (the Norilsk case study) I rework some of the data derived from this trip and cited in the M.A. thesis as contextual information for an original argument. In contrast to the limited scope of the M.A. thesis, which examines how the city is managed, the doctoral dissertation presents a different conceptual as well as empirical argument about Norilsk Nickel’s role in transnational governance processes and practices of state sovereignty.  This requires new material from other sources, including the second Norilsk trip in 2013, corporate documents from Norilsk Nickel, discussions with other scholars with firsthand knowledge of Norilsk, local and 																																																						2 The network website can be found here: 	 17 federal government policy documents, and English and Russian language news and academic sources.   During the 2011 trip to Igarka and Norilsk, I conducted 11 semi-structured individual interviews in Norilsk with representatives from several public and private institutions including a city council member, representatives from housing, economic development, and employment bureaus, the city statistical agency, the local branch of federal migration authorities, Azeri community members, local religious leaders, public education specialists, and academics from The Russian Academy of Sciences and from Moscow State University (Parente 2012, p. 25).  I arranged additional site visits to observe the condition of the city infrastructure, enter local cultural and religious sites, and visit the bedroom communities just outside Norilsk. To learn about local industry from Norilsk Nickel managers, I visited resource extraction sites, which included visits into closed and open pit mines and metallurgy operations. These visits gave me an opportunity to ask questions of Norilsk Nickel company representatives. My aim was to gather local level data on Norilsk’s resource extraction industry operations, as well as gain a more fine-grained understanding of socio-economic change and local demographics in light of the well-known economic development challenges of the post-Soviet period. Cities throughout the Arctic, including Norilsk, have experienced significant migration inflows and outflows as their economic fortunes have altered drastically since 1991. The city of Norilsk has changed as Norilsk Nickel, the city’s main employer has restructured over the past few decades.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I traveled to Norilsk as part of a larger research group of students conducting scientific analyses of permafrost.  The group was granted permission to enter in advance 	 18 because it was organized by Moscow State University, and included a few foreign students. Travel to Norilsk required a two-day train trip from Moscow to Krasnoyarsk, and from there a three-day trip up the Yenesey River by boat.  Upon arrival in Dudinka, the port town that operates as an appendage of Norilsk Nickel and point of entry to Norilsk, the entire group passed through a checkpoint on the dock.  Foreign students were separated further for entry processing.  After passing through this checkpoint, we boarded ice-road trucks for the remaining portion of the journey into Norilsk.  As a participant with limited Russian-speaking capacity, in an introverted city, I relied on an English-speaking colleague who is a member of the Russian Academy of Sciences (RAS).  Through his affiliation with the well-respected RAS, we gained entrée to interviews that would likely otherwise be refused.  The surprise of the visit was that the RAS badge we displayed gained us access to interviews with city civil servants.  I spoke with representatives in offices that I had previously identified as knowledgeable about city operations that impact immigration and economic development, the topics of my thesis. I transcribed by hand.  After the interviews my colleague and I reviewed my notes to flesh out gaps.  I found interviewees to be formal and pleasant.  The information they offered was limited at times either by what seemed to be a lack of authority on a given subject, or because of a reluctance to give out “sensitive” information.  At times my RAS interpreter warned me off certain lines of questioning.  Immigration is a politically sensitive topic in Russia in any location and particularly in this closed city.  During the interviews I favored non-controversial questions over more penetrating questions that could end the meeting abruptly and possibly impinge on my guest status in the city. As a result of these limitations around access to elite interviewees and language, much of the interview material from Norilsk occurs in paraphrased form.   	 19 On the return visit to Norilsk in 2013, (i.e. during my doctoral program), I conducted site visits, participant observation, print media research, and interviewed scholars about local and regional financing, local politics, relations between the Norilsk bureaucracy and Norilsk Nickel management, local employment statistics, municipal participation in the Russian Union of Northern Cities, and municipal intervention in federal efforts to demarcate a formal Arctic zone.  During this visit, without my own interpreter, during site visits I asked bilingual colleagues to pose my questions and interpret answers for representatives from various local institutions.  In Barrow and Anchorage, I followed a more straightforward method of identifying individuals associated with the Shell proposal or leaders in the community, gleaned from news reports and websites from governmental institutions and local organizations in the North Slope and Anchorage. Interviews, participant observation, and site visits provided valuable local insights to fill in the gaps between official documents, press releases, and news reports.  Most interviews were with individuals privy to the management and administration of the municipalities, or other corporations or non-profit organizations.  In both Norilsk and the North Slope, when access to elites was difficult, or informants refused to discuss certain issues, I complemented interview data with information from other documentary sources to trace negotiations and understand policy development.  My experiences with this research method reflect the challenges involved in interviewing “elites,” discussed by other researchers (McDowell, 1992; Schoenberger, 1991; Kuus, 2013).   The second case study is situated in Alaska’s North Slope (Chapter 4).  It focuses on a recent profit sharing agreement negotiated between local organizations and Shell Oil Corporation that occured against a backdrop of longstanding cooperation and conflict 	 20 between these groups regarding local oil development. Interview-based research was conducted in the town of Barrow (pop. 5,000), capital of the North Slope Borough, and in Anchorage Alaska, USA, during a 2014 fieldtrip.3  My intention was to better understand the dynamics among North Slope organizations as well as the local political economy.  In the North Slope and Anchorage I conducted 12 semi-structured individual interviews with officials from local organizations both participating and not participating in Shell’s profit sharing agreement. Interviewees included representatives from the following local government, community, and private organizations: North Slope Borough government, Department of Wildlife Management (NSB), Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC), Arctic Inupiat Offshore LLC, native village corporations and governments, and the Arctic Slope Native Association (ASNA). I also conducted multiple site visits to the proposed drilling sites. I pursued questions concerning Shell’s proposed development and local relationships between Shell, local, state, and federal governments and government agencies, as well as about local and regional financing, relations between the Barrow bureaucracy and Shell management, local employment statistics, municipal participation in state politics, relationships between the municipality and tribal organizations, and among indigenous corporations and the municipality, state and federal agencies, as well as resource companies. This study is not ethnography. The use of interviews and site visits to gather information in the field reflects my limited resources and challenges accessing elites in an expansive ethnographic sense. Scholars note that if researchers cannot access or do not have resources for “deep hanging out” (ethnography), they can use extended case studies 																																																						3 In October 2016, Barrow residents voted to restore the original name of the city to Utqiagvik. However, this issue will be in and out of courts for some time, so I retain the use of the name Barrow throughout this dissertation. 	 21 (participant observation) and interviews as alternatives. Kuus, discussing research methodologies in bureaucracies, notes: “We certainly need close-up knowledge of and sensitivity to the social context of foreign policy processes.  Such sensitivity can be practised through interviews as well as ethnography” (Kuus, 2013, p. 14). 	2.3 Case Study Descriptions and Comparative Approach The U.S. case study examines an offshore oil development site abandoned in 2015 by Shell Corporation in the Chukchi Sea.  The proposed site was adjacent to Alaska’s North Slope Borough, which is governed by an indigenous majority, a reflection of the Inupiat population.  The borough is considered a successful example of market-led development through reinvestment of oil revenues mainly through indigenous corporations. I focused on a profit-sharing agreement negotiated in 2014 between a Shell Oil subsidiary, an Alaska Native Regional Corporation, and six Native Village corporations.4  The agreement would have shared the profits from offshore drilling off Alaska's Chukchi Sea coast between these companies.  Alaska state senators supported the joint venture, although they were not directly involved with its negotiation. This agreement was one of the most recent events in decades-long advocacy and litigation efforts to open the Chukchi Sea area to offshore drilling. These events highlight the shifting governance dynamics in the region. In 2013, for example, after years of planning, Royal Dutch Shell PLC briefly suspended, and then restarted its proposed offshore operations in the Alaskan Arctic. The suspension was due in part to a lawsuit brought by 																																																						4 “Shell and the Arctic Slope Regional Corp. announced the formation of a new company called Arctic Inupiat Offshore LLC.  Its participants include six village corporations on the North Slope.  The agreement with the Shell subsidiary, Shell Gulf of Mexico Inc., gives the Alaska Native company the option of acquiring an overriding royalty interest from Shell's drilling on leases in the Chukchi Sea” (D'Oro, 2014). 	 22 some of the Native corporations that later participated in the 2014 profit sharing agreement.5 Prior to the lawsuit, Shell had conducted an expensive, multi-year campaign in the borough to garner support from Inupiat residents for offshore drilling, and lobbied in Alaska and Washington DC. The North Slope community remains divided on offshore oil.6  Primary actors in this case include Royal Dutch Shell Corporation, the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation, Arctic Inupiat Offshore LLC, six Native Village Corporations, Shell Gulf of Mexico Inc., and Ukpeagvik Iñupiat Corporation (UIC). A profit-sharing agreement brokered among private sector actors is a relatively new instrument in Arctic development.  It highlights new and shifting political relationships and negotiations among private sector actors in a community that has benefited from market-led development (Dittmer et al., 2011, p. 206).  The profit-sharing agreement negotiations offer an opportunity to evaluate corporations in regional governance and development. Private sector development negotiations both challenge and reinforce state modes of power.  By examining Shell’s rhetorical strategies in the profit-sharing agreement negotiations and long-term lobbying with government, local business, and communities, I find Shell borrowed from (and shaped) state discourses and regional development plans. Shell framed its activity as aligning with state geopolitical and economic security priorities, citing economic and energy security among the benefits it provides. Examining profit-sharing agreement negotiations also highlights how North Slope Native corporations navigate the tradeoffs they face in courting resource development and 																																																						5 Shell said the decision was based in part on a federal appeals court ruling that found the federal government conducted a flawed environmental review before selling $2.7 billion in oil and gas leases to Shell and other companies in the Chukchi Sea in 2008. 6	The Ukpeagvik Iñupiat Corporation (UIC), for example, publicly opposes environmental NGO lawsuits against Shell, saying they slow local economic growth.  UIC is the Alaska Native Village Corporation for Barrow, Alaska, and serves as a strategic platform for offshore lease activities in the Chukchi Sea, including the Shell exploration and production program (Blue 2014).		 23 controlling its trajectory.  These businesses played large roles both opposing and encouraging Shell’s proposed development.  This addresses Angell and Parkins’s call for research that examines how aboriginal actors “manage” resource development (2011). The second case study examines the city of Norilsk, located within the Norilsk Industrial Region, a mining centre in Krasnoyarsk Krai, Russia.  Norilsk Nickel Mining and Metallurgy Corporation dominates the large Arctic city.  I focused on the company’s engagement in 2013 in the federal legislative process to define Russia’s Arctic boundaries.  Norilsk Nickel attempted to reform the legislation draft to impose regional migration restrictions in order to reduce the city’s population and social services in order to operate more efficiently. This work builds on my previous research findings (Parente 2012; Parente, Shiklomanov, & Streletskiy, 2012), and that of others, that the company is reducing its responsibility for municipal social spending, a practice that persists from the Soviet era when state-run businesses (like Norilsk Nickel at the time) provided broad social welfare benefits. Since the company privatized in the 1990s Norilsk Nickel has attempted to reduce the municipal population and associated social costs.  Primary actors in this case include the Norilsk city bureaucracy and satellite towns, Norilsk Nickel Corporation MMC, and the Russian Federation.   This case study illustrates the indirect influence of corporate actors in regional geopolitics and economic development.  Norilsk Nickel took advantage of national-level legislative processes establishing Russia’s Arctic borders to pursue its own local goal of restricting municipal in-migration.  I use this event to understand the company’s role in shaping decision-making at multiple scales.  	 24 Similar to the Shell case, Norilsk Nickel borrowed from, reiterated, (and thereby reinforced), certain national discourses and regional development plans to frame its proposal as an alignment of federal geopolitical and economic security priorities (Medvedev, 2008).  It illustrates how state and non-state actors co-produce “security” framings to legitimize activity.  This case also connects geopolitical and development literatures as Norilsk Nickel and the federal government both seek to reduce local in-migration and welfare expenses as a means for more efficient regional development.  In this study I argue that state and corporate actors engage in multiscalar policy processes that shape the regional framings underlying evolving forms of state sovereignty and Arctic governance. To understand how this operates I analyzed the social relations of policymaking in these two case studies. I draw on critical policy studies to focus on the aspects of decision-making that are hidden from view- such as the assumptions on which they rest.  To understand these processes in context, as well as focus on specific policy processes, I relied on extended case method to understand how states are evolving in relation to other actors.  A focus on how decision-making operates in these cases also allows us to trace governance dynamics across scales, and acknowledge their contingent and changing nature. “[P]olicy processes connect different sites and scales … to reveal power structures and political systems in which policies are embedded” (Shore, Wright, & Pero, 2011, p. 223).  My aim was not to compare these cases directly. Rather, I use the extended case method to analyze the two case studies as sample processes. This approach, as outlined by Burawoy, emphasizes the variations in the cases through time and space, which help us see the underlying forces at work (1991).  It does not follow “the strategy of inductive generalization, namely to seek out common patterns among diverse cases, so that context can 	 25 be discounted” (Burawoy, 1998, p. 19).  Rather it “deploys a different comparative strategy, tracing the source of small differences to external forces. … Instead of reducing cases to instances of a general law, we make each case work in its connection to other cases” (Burawoy, 1998, p. 19; emphasis in original). By examining the empirical practices by diverse actors, my research speaks more broadly to debates about the how of sovereignty.  As an explanatory rationale for placing these two circumpolar case studies in conversation, I refer to Ken Coates’ discussion (1994) on comparability of the Arctic regions to “less developed countries” (LDCs) in the development context, summarized in McBeath et al. (2008): Ken Coates has noted that the characteristics that make remote northern regions distinctive have caused scholars to shy away from comparisons with geographically distant regions or the use of theories of development derived from the study of LDCs.  He argues that northern regions, although colder, more remote, and more sparsely populated than typical LDCs are similar in important ways.  They are shaped by recent histories of external political and economic control.  They have been penetrated by MNCs [multinational corporations], and they suffer net outflows of the profits derived from resource development.  In addition, the internal politics of northern regions tend to be characterized by “intense internal struggles that have limited the regions’ ability to present and protect their interests against outside forces” (Coates, 1994). (McBeath et al., 2008, p. 6)  Both research sites owe their economic growth to extractive industry: mining in the case of Norilsk and oil and gas in the case of the North Slope.  Both feature deep and blurred relationships among corporations and government at various levels.  Norilsk was established as a mining outpost in the early 1900s and has a declining population of about 150,000.  The North Slope Borough was incorporated in 1972, and has a steady population of about 10,000.  The borough as a native-controlled institution is considered “the instrument by which local Inupiat captured and used oil wealth, with clear economic and political benefits” (Knapp & 	 26 Morehouse, 1991). I foreground certain actors in these cases in order to clarify the questions of interest to me; other stakeholders are certainly important. I follow a “multi-case” method (as opposed to a “multi-sited” method), using distinct cases to highlight differences rather than similarities, and to connect local processes with broader global structures (social, economic, and political) (Burawoy, 2009).  Therefore I examine dynamics within individual cases (Wedel, 1998, p. 261).  Extended case method examples are chosen for their “explanatory power” rather than their typicality, so “extrapolation is based on the validity of the analysis rather than the representativeness of events” (Mitchell, 1983, p. 190).  The cases were selected to explain the underlying mechanisms for things we see (i.e. policies related to economic development and security and the creation of state structures and practices) rather than to uncover general laws, as in positivist research. Further, this approach emphasizes the agency of actors and makes the “social processes” themselves the objects of analysis, which may be “abstracted from the course of events analysed” (Mitchell, 1983, p. 190). However such extrapolation may not be the goal given the diversity of the Arctic. Rather this approach is perhaps more useful as a method to evaluate processes of regional knowledge production and connect them with global trends.  I do not generalize from these cases in a quantitative way, but use them as examples of normal knots of actors and relations in that terrain (Burawoy, 1998, p. 19).  Indeed, this approach questions generalizability as a research goal, noting, “Used within an interpretivist framework, ‘researchers do not seek to find universals in their case studies.  They seek, instead, a full, rich understanding (verstehen) of the context they are studying’ (Willis, [2007] p. 240)”  (White et al., 2009, p. 21).   	 27 My research draws on secondary, or documentary sources, as well as primary sources.  Examples of documentary sources include publicly available government publications, corporate publications and filings, available either online or through information requests.  Additional demographic data was obtained from federal sources, Rosstat (Russia) and the U.S. Census.  I read Russian at an intermediate level, and can do some of my own simple translation work with the help of translation aids.  If the exact language was important, I imposed on other researchers in the network, or the Russian-speaking Slavic Area Studies librarian at UBC’s Koerner Library. 	 28 Chapter 3: Arctic Geopolitics, Knowledge Production, and Governance   Scholarly literature on Arctic governance is interdisciplinary and wide-ranging. It has expanded rapidly in recent years to address anthropogenic and natural changes in the region. The geographic literature on all aspects of the Arctic has similarly blossomed. It straddles diverse realms such as geopolitics, cultural anthropology, as well as environmental science and policy.  This chapter reviews a small subsection of the geographic literature that touches on Arctic governance in order to contextualize the case studies of Norilsk and the North Slope. The research I draw on is not always directly related to governance, but straddles the sub-fields of critical Arctic geopolitics, Arctic political geography, and economic geography in non-Arctic contexts. Given the relative youth of several of these sub-fields, I also draw on theoretical work outside these literatures as a basis for some conceptual claims.   Significant overlap exists across grey and academic literatures in Arctic studies. Much research is interdisciplinary and work by geographers is divided at times between theoretical and practical orientations. With the upsurge in interest in the region, states and circumpolar organizations fund research that is oriented practically rather than conceptually. Often scholars publish in both realms. To limit the scope of this project, I refer to the more strictly academic literature, as this work addresses the conceptual issues that interest me.  This study addresses what Heininen (2014) identifies as a central tension emerging in critical geopolitics debates about the Arctic: how to decentre states in analyses of governance but still account for the enduring role of changing states, as well as how to understand evolving forms of transnational sovereignty.  This tension has emerged as critical geographers critique territorially trapped or state-centric IR analyses as poor frameworks to 	 29 understand a shifting diverse Arctic governance scene (Dodds 2010, Powell 2010).  Existing analyses critique, but do not fully escape IR framings. Arctic geopolitical scholars aim to understand how dominant actors and knowledges develop and persist in the Arctic. However they offer few empirically based frameworks that reflect the dynamics of multiple actors and multiscalar knowledges involved in Arctic governance (Dittmer et al., 2011). The notion of a ‘scramble’, let alone some kind of latter day ‘land grab’, is a reminder not only of past colonial encounters … but also of its continuation. … But this kind of mapping exercise also brings to the fore the importance of geographical knowledge (or what we term here knowledges, in order to draw attention to multiple manifestations and complex political economies surrounding the production and circulation of knowledge) in shaping expressions of sovereign power. (Powell and Dodds 2014, p. 4).   To build on their efforts, I focus on the how of sovereignty by examining specific cases of policy production. As states and corporations interact in these empirical cases they co-produce narratives and practices that shape policy options and ultimately regional governance. I turn to the literature on knowledge production to analyze how these narratives reinforce each other and become the authoritative framings of the region. This in turn enables both sets of actors to reassert their power to continue to set the agenda in the region at the expense of other actors. My use of extended case method to understand how governance unfolds at several scales addresses Steinberg’s (2010) call for scholars to address the contingency and fluidity of geopolitical practices particular to the Arctic region:  It is a space where new actors are producing new institutions, but in a struggle that  echoes historic conflicts and wills to power. The study of this “lively space”  therefore requires a “lively geopolitics” that respects the ambiguity, as well as the  power, of geopolitical performance. (Steinberg, 2010, p. 3)    Finally, this study explores transnational governance dynamics without bypassing the state. Although I investigate the role of private sector actors in regional governance, I do not 	 30 seek to displace the state. I draw on critical studies of the devolution of state sovereignty and new non-state actors in the region. I find enduring and evolving state power in relation to corporations, and indeed blurred lines between them.  3.1 New Sovereignties and Governance Arrangements in the Arctic I draw primarily on critical political geographers who analyze the evolution of Arctic governance.  They aim to decentre the state in geopolitical analyses by incorporating the multiplicity of regional governance changes since the end of the Cold War.  These scholars critique existing frameworks of transnational governance and propose new ways to conceptualize evolving Arctic governance.  Powell and Dodds (2014) acknowledge Arctic scholarship’s debt to critical theories that move beyond competitive, state centred analytical framings. There is much to be gained from an approach that does not privilege a Westphalian imagination concerning the supremacy of particular claimant or coastal states in the Polar Regions (Kraska, 2011).  Not least, a wide range of actors, whether indigenous peoples in the Arctic, environmental Non-Governmental Organizations, or other states further afield, have historically played important roles in the geographical imagination and political governance of these spaces (Borgerson, 2008). In these ways, this is one of the particularities of the study and understanding of the Arctic and Antarctic. For these reasons, we argue against neo-realist imaginaries that either privilege states as the supreme competitive actors in the future of both the north and south and/or that prophesize resource wars. (Powell & Dodds, 2014, p. 8)  Critical political geographers aim to transcend neo-realist and liberal readings of the region, borrowed from international relations (IR) and political science (Huebert, 2003; Brigham, 2010).  These were the prevailing analytical lenses for the Arctic during the Cold War, reflecting geopolitical dynamics of interstate competition.  Agnew’s (1994) “territorial trap” is a key critique of such scholarly overreliance on territory to understand interstate and sub state relations.  His work has birthed much more research in this vein, as well as new 	 31 research paths (Reid-Henry, 2010).  Dittmer et al. (2011) summarize how both neo-realist and liberal framings emphasize state-centric decision-making based on goals of extending sovereignty over territory and natural or strategic resources.  These practices are enforced by militarization and a discursive emphasis on national security.  While neo-realists and liberals disagree over the capacity of the state to co-operate with others, both are vexed by the absence of world government and the anarchical condition of world politics.  Liberals tend to be more interested in the possibilities of cooperation through regimes (Keohane & Nye, 2000), while neo-realists are preoccupied with states and their national security interests. (Dittmer et al., 2011, p. 203)   One strand of research in critical Arctic political geography is empirically grounded and emphasizes new constellations of powerful regional stakeholders.  Studies examine new circumpolar governance arrangements and forms of sovereignty that reflect political devolution and supranational cooperation and thereby challenge traditional modes of state sovereignty.  They argue for the need for new governance frameworks that reflect broadened conceptions of sovereignty and include indigenous groups in particular (Powell, 2010; Nicol, 2010; Shadian, 2010). There is a considerable literature on indigenous self-government and settler colonialism, but this body of literature as a whole lies outside of my research focus. I do, however refer to authors aligned with aspects of indigenous participation in Arctic governance (writ large) and economic development. The private sector, however, is rarely discussed among other non-state actors (Parente, 2015, p. 228).  Indigenous participation in governance dominates this literature.  Industry, commercial, and corporate actors are often depicted either as drivers of development regionally, or in a specific location, and/or as one of several stakeholders in an empirical case.  Few studies examine negotiations with local actors (Graybill, 2009).  Even 	 32 less theoretical work investigates how private sector actors shape complex regional governance and development.  Scholars argue new actors challenge nation-states’ ongoing project of aligning “state” and “nation,”- their practices of sovereignty.7  However the Westphalian view still dominates mainstream discourse through popular, gray, and academic literature on Arctic governance. Westphalian framings can limit the range of alternative sovereignty and governance arrangements scholars can propose (Shadian, 2010).  As Shaw (2008) notes, “mainstream political discourse cannot conceive of non-sovereign state solutions.”  She argues, “It is necessary to reconceptualise the relationship between political theory and the challenges posed by contemporary Indigenous politics, and of progressive or critical politics more generally” (2008, p. 8).  Shadian (2010) proposes for example, deterritorialized forms of sovereignty for Inuit peoples dispersed throughout the circumpolar region: “The Inuit national narrative in particular seeks a form of political sovereignty through the right to participate in politics (rather than territorial integrity)” (p. 498). A second strand of critical Arctic research critiques the prevailing state-based geopolitical readings of Arctic governance.  Unlike the former thread, such studies are often theoretically grounded or focus on how states perform sovereignty or aim for ‘legibility’ in the Arctic (Dodds, 2010). These analyses rely empirically on analysis of state discourse or practices (Steinberg, 2010; Dodds & Nuttall, 2016; Foxall, 2014).  As such, these studies often unintentionally perpetuate state-centred analyses or regional framings of “resource frontiers” and entrench assumptions about inevitable and self-evident state interests.  They suggest that state practices of sovereignty arise solely with the state, originating from the 																																																						7 “The Westphalian shift to the state as nation-state created the need to regularly maintain an identity through the simultaneous assertion of territorial integrity and the congruent narrative of a coherent people” (Burchell, 1991, p. 93). 	 33 centre, rather than emerging from several places a once.  Critical work critiques the “scramble” of the container state model but offer few empirical alternatives to state based governance dynamics. Thus, we see a stubborn division between the empirically rich literature on alternative sovereignties, and the state-based analyses that critique the “real” Westphalian system as it operates.  This study does not propose alternative sovereignties, and therefore draws mostly on the latter strand of work that examines governance as it operates. Lack of empirical depth is a longstanding critique of this latter body of work.  An academic review of the Powell and Dodds monograph cites their explicit aim, “to challenge the traditional state-centric view of geopolitics in the Arctic,” but the reviewer argues that the case studies “reveal the seemingly unavoidable dominance by development interests through state governments (even trumping self-governance by indigenous groups)” (Meserve, 2015, pp. 494-495). Much of the research I have charted so far seeks to challenge states as the de facto unit of analysis.  However I also draw on critical scholars who see new evidence of enduring state power in regional governance dynamics.  They aim to re-incorporate states in Arctic geopolitical analyses without reproducing classical geopolitical framings.  Thus, after attempting to analyze Arctic governance in spite of the state, or around the state, it is clear that state power endures in the Arctic and states still matter in regional and transnational governance, and must be analyzed.  Heininen (2014) observes, [The] growing strategic importance of the North geopolitically and geoeconomically both on the agendas of the Arctic states as well as those of the major powers outside the region.  This is clearly seen and manifested by the recently-approved strategies of the Arctic states in general, and particularly by an emphasis on state sovereignty by the five littoral states. (Heininen, 2014, p. 255)  	 34 Scholars ask then, how states evolve and assert sovereignty in changing circumstances.  Gerhardt et al. (2010) argues that the “ongoing contestation of sovereignty in the Arctic does not allow scholarly narratives to altogether dismiss the power of nation-states, nor their capacity to disagree” (pp. 994–5).  They continue, “states often seek to perpetuate these traditional and assumed ways of defining and delimiting sovereign jurisdiction” (pp. 994–5).  Similarly, Heininen (2014) notes that security framings remain a key tool for states exerting sovereignty. And while not suggesting that a new Cold War is returning to the Arctic, proponents warn that there might be a securitizing impulse and legacy to his broader interest in the Arctic region.  One area of concern here revolves around the perceived accessibility of the Arctic as a modern day “polar Mediterranean.” (Heininen, 2014, p. 243)  Indeed, Dittmer et al. (2011) argue that the tension between international cooperation and state competition never disappeared in the region: Thus, on the one hand, the re-opening of the Arctic from the confines of Cold War spatial orderings was read during the 1990s as an unprecedented opportunity to establish a new political order regulated via democracy, freedom and markets, in uneasy tandem with concepts of sustainability, demilitarization and human security.  On the other, we show how the Arctic is increasingly read in terms of the resurgence of neo-realism as geopolitical actors allegedly scramble to reterritorialize an opening Arctic space (and especially the Arctic Ocean) in pursuit of national security interests and resource competition. (Dittmer et al., 2011, p. 203)  Critical scholars reintroduce states into transnational governance frameworks by emphasizing their need to manage domestic and international concerns. How states navigate these tensions helps us understand how they evolve. The Arctic context starkly reveals these tensions.   	 35 3.2 Transnational Governance  I have outlined how critical Arctic scholars seek to reconsider states and integrate new actors into analyses of Arctic governance.  However these analyses often reproduce framings reliant on geopolitical frameworks that imply static, coherent states, operating discretely from other regional actors.  Critical scholars offer few theoretically grounded, empirical studies of how multiscalar governance operates, how states and non-state actors may overlap, intertwine, and evolve in these relationships, and the impact on state sovereignty and regional governance.  A few geographers propose analyzing policy processes to understand how states construct transnational strategies and policy frameworks in the Arctic, although they do not provide examples themselves (Dittmer et al., 2011; Powell & Dodds, 2014, p. 14).  New theories grounded in empirics remain elusive. “The critical geographical perspective seeking explanation from the actions of non-state entities is constrained since the case studies too often document the limits of non-state influence” (Meserve, 2015, p. 493). In my empirical work I find states evolve as they, like corporations, negotiate both domestic and international impulses. I draw on scholars who move away from emphases on states towards a focus on multi-scalar linkages among different actors. Agnew and Corbridge (1995) highlight how state sovereignty operates through “interaction[s] between global and local (including state-territorial) processes of political-economic structuration” (p. 91). They argue therefore, that “showing how the domestic and the foreign come together under different historical circumstances rather than separating them into permanent opposition becomes the overriding task” (p. 91).  Moisio and Paasi (2013a) call this blurring the “transnationalisation of state spaces”,   	 36 The transnationalisation of state spaces, which is often understood as being associated with the spread of neoliberal political rationality, has challenged scholars to rethink the often taken-for-granted distinctions between the domestic and international or the geopolitical and the geoeconomic. (p. 261)  I further argue that states negotiate these impulses not in spite of, but thanks to, corporations.  The activities and rhetoric of companies enables the state to engage selectively in regional affairs.  This helps us understand the “false split” between state power and globalization, and the tensions for states seeking to manage markets as well as territory (Moisio & Paasi, 2013b).  This tension is crucial to understand Arctic governance.  Rowe and Blakkisrud (2014, p. 83) identify the “overlaps and tensions” of domestic and international politics as central to understanding Arctic dynamics. To understand how states negotiate these tensions, I examine how states and corporations construct strategies and policy frameworks in relation to each other.  I focus on relationships and processes, in an effort to avoid institutionally based analysis of new governance arrangements and sovereignties (Parente, 2015, p. 230).  I draw on Dittmer et al.’s (2011) discussion that emphasizes relationships as the key to understanding regional geopolitics, rather than nation-states pursuing static interests.  However, I take this proposal a step further.  My focus is on how governance practices emerge from relationship dynamics, but I also emphasize how the relationships change the actors themselves.  What we hope to have achieved in the discussion so far is to show that there is far more to geopolitics in the ‘High North’ than in such neo-realist inspired formulations.  The texture of geopolitics is far richer - and more entangled - than such accounts allow.  It emerges not so much out of the action of external, environmental stimuli (climate change, ice melting) on already-constituted entities (nation-states and their interests) and their interactions with each other (via “rivalries”).  Rather, we have suggested, geopolitics is about the iterative, performative and embodied materialization of spaces and relationships.  When we examine the formation of Arctic geopolitics, it is not the working out of timeless geopolitical processes that is intriguing here but the ongoing assembly of the geopolitical itself out of multiple elements, across a wide variety of sites, only a handful of which we have so far 	 37 considered.  (Dittmer et al. 2011, p. 212)   I focus on two aspects of transnational governance in my study, 1) how private-sector actors influence practices of state sovereignty in the Arctic, and 2) how states negotiate competing domestic and international demands in the Arctic context.  I draw on analyses that highlight evolving and contradictory states, as well as others that emphasize how states engage in geopolitics across scales.  Powell and Dodds (2014) note that “any critical engagement of contemporary polar geopolitics, then, would have to recognize that nation-states are embroiled in relationships that span and stretch far beyond national jurisdictions” (p. 10). My work contributes to empirically grounded multi-scalar Arctic governance research. Examples include Steinberg’s (2014) analysis of U.S. Arctic policy.  He notes that Arctic Council states in particular are torn between what they call “the competing demands of internationalization and territorialization” (Powell & Dodds, 2014, p. 14). Gerhardt et al. (2010) conceptualize transnational governance based on deterritorialized conceptions of sovereignty. Yet attempts to construct sovereign space in the Arctic have been complicated by the disparity between existing imaginaries and the emergent geophysical and social realities of the region.  An alternative to these approaches could be a system of global governance at the margins of sovereign power, which would be based on a fundamental shift in Arctic imaginaries. … It follows that such a space could be governed not as a bounded, fixed entity (the territorial state model) or its conceptual antithesis (the ostensible ungoverned space of the world ocean), but as a fluid space of crossings. (p. 998)  New spatial and institutional analytical frameworks also reflect scholars’ preoccupation with developing conceptually useful ways to link micro and macro processes in globalization.  As Burawoy (1998) notes, in the global context it is increasingly clear that 	 38 “the flow of political and economic power between levels demonstrates how micro processes and macro social forces co-constitute each other” (pp. 6, 15). A close look at policy processes across scales addresses recent calls in Arctic geopolitics to deepen analyses based on empirical data at diverse scales (Dittmer et al., 2011, p. 212).  I also draw on critical theories mapping flows of power through new governance arrangements among a wider range of actors and sites in the context of globalization.  These include views of sovereignty as consisting of circulating power relations among multiple actors (Agnew, 2009, p. 7), a concern for the state as assemblage (Barkan, 2013, p. 14), or as collections of social relations (Jessop, 2002).  As Powell and Dodds (2014) note, “There are multiple agents, sites, and space associated with polar geopolitics” (p. 10). These theories see a neorealist understanding of sovereignty (that the sovereign’s link to territory is the source of power) evolving as globalization loosens the state’s control over its own territory, and non-state and deterritorialized actors, institutions, and processes proliferate.  Agnew’s (2005) description of globalization usefully describes the new processes with which states interact, in particular “its fragmentation of existing state territories and its increasingly predominant networked geography of power” (p. 2). Agnew’s (2009, p. 7) theories of new forms of transnational state power, particularly circulating, deterritorialized state power, mesh well with a process based analytical approach.  His “space spanning networks” advance the idea that the state has no inherent power, but only “de jure” sovereignty. Mann’s (1984) more materialist view of central and diffused power structures also highlights how states and corporate interests exert power together. I draw on scholars such as Agnew and Corbridge (1995), Dicken (1997) and Barkan (2013, p. 9), who nominate corporations as key players in the theories of global networked 	 39 power, and as actors deeply enmeshed with processes of internationalizing nation-states. Barkan (2013), drawing on earlier scholars notes “the centrality of corporations in contemporary models of governance” (p.1). He sees state and capital as complementary. I also rely on a second key argument by Barkan that asserts not only that states and corporations ensure each other’s existence but that they do so through particular relationships. Modern state sovereignty is founded in and anchored to a figure of the corporate political body.  In turn, modern corporate power emerges from and mobilizes apparatuses of sovereignty, discipline, and government.  In this manner, corporate power and state sovereignty depend on one another, each establishing the other’s condition of possibility.  Nonetheless, the relation is full of tension, as these institutional ensembles mix and often threaten one another’s existence.  (Barkan, 2013, p. 6)  Therefore, Barkan (2013) argues, “We shouldn’t emphasize the distinctions between the economic power of corporations and the political sovereignty of states” (p. 4).  In fact, he argues, corporate sovereignty is part of the fundamental structure of the political order, and therefore “corporate power should be rethought as a mode of political sovereignty”  (rather than the economic power of corporations undermining state sovereignty) (p. 4).  This point emphasizes that states do not exercise exclusive control over economic activity in their territory. Territory, of course, has been central to definitions of sovereignty in the West as the taken-for-granted background over which power is exercised.  Similarly, the argument that corporate economic power undermines state sovereignty depends on the notion of state territoriality in which states exercise sovereignty over the economic activities that occur within their borders. …  Space is presented as a static property of states. (Barkan, 2013, p. 12)  3.2.1 Evolving forms of state power States, as we have seen, are transnational actors that navigate competing domestic and international demands. In the context of the Arctic, asserting sovereignty can be particularly 	 40 problematic.  In this section I examine how corporations help states navigate these tensions and how state and corporate interaction facilitate states’ efforts to develop new ways to assert sovereignty in the context of globalized processes. “Because the Arctic has been governed from non- Arctic capitals, the region has seen a number of variations on the practice of sovereignty” (Gerhardt et al., 2010, p. 994).   Much critical political geographical literature discusses, from various perspectives, the mismatch between state ambitions to assert sovereignty in the Arctic, and their actual ability to exert “effective” sovereignty.  Such analyses draw on Agnew’s conceptualization of effective sovereignty, which ties in to the previous discussion about transnational governance.  Agnew (2009, p. 7) argues, “there is no ‘de jure’ but only de facto sovereignty when you see [state] power as circulating and available rather than locked into a site.  Effective sovereignty therefore is not necessarily predicated on and defined by strict and fixed state territorial boundaries.” Arctic analyses critique the scramble among states to claim territory (land and water) and associated natural resource and trade rights (Dodds, 2010).  Others emphasize the natural environment in the context of climate change, and the challenges it raises to state territorial claims.  They engage the problem of materiality and territoriality in state sovereignty in the region, citing the region’s indistinct borders and demarcations due to the unique natural environment and unclear distinctions between territory and water.  This argument focuses on the ambiguities between ostensibly governable territory and less controllable waters, an issue exacerbated by climate change (Steinberg, 2009; Gerhardt et al., 2010).  I draw on Dodds’s (2012) discussion of some of the ways states try to negotiate these contradictions and 	 41 limitations, including his application of Ong’s (2006) theory of ‘graduated sovereignty’ to Canada’s Arctic policy. States engage in several forms of sovereignty in these cases that have both material and representational aspects, and are in some cases decoupled from nation-state boundaries. My findings address debates in both Arctic and broader geographic literatures about how to ground processes in a deterritorialized era of globalization.  Collyer and King (2015) describe the tension for critical geography scholars between transnational analyses that attempt to materialize transnational space on the one hand, and work that emphasizes dematerialized and deterritorialized state practices away from state borders (p.187).  They cite several scholars who are reintroducing the local and the material into transnational studies to better analyze states in transnational contexts.  They cite Blunt (2007) as contributing to the “growing literature within geography contesting the immaterial view of space in transnational studies” (p. 187).  Ley (2004) seeks to ground globalized processes again in the local, and Crang et al. (2003) emphasize new “structures of control such as transnational capital” (Collyer & King, 2015, p. 187). I draw on research in Arctic geopolitical literature that integrates both material and representational aspects of state activity. Scholars emphasize the importance of policy documents in Arctic geopolitical research (Steinberg 2014), and indeed there is much research that relies on state documents.  However some scholars integrate analyses of state policy texts or discourse with material changes in the region to discuss state intervention (Dodds, 2010; Steinberg, 2009; Nuttall, 2014). In that vein, I aim to integrate local context into geopolitical analysis and discuss the dual material and discursive aspects of state practices of security and development.  	 42 Therefore, my case studies are grounded empirically on specific governance mechanisms as means to extend state sovereignty.  I draw on Foxall’s (2012) call to analyze how discourses are “manifested and reinforced in everyday practices” (paraphrased in Rowe and Blakkisrud, 2014, p. 78). Dittmer et al. (2011) make a similar point, arguing that discourse mediates representative and material practices (p. 202).  I draw on critical arguments that globalization and state power must be understood through historical and local contingency, and not as hegemonic, ahistorical inevitabilities (Ó Tuathail, 1996, p. 66). Through analyses of material forms of sovereignty, as well as discourse as an “economical” form of sovereignty, I aim to return theories to the Arctic context, and advance geopolitical analyses that simply overlay theory over the region. Several scholars discuss how states adapt new forms of sovereignty as they run up against the limits of territorial based sovereignty claims in the region.  Dodds (2010) describes states’ methods to assert effective power over territory, under changing conditions: What is at stake here, I believe, is a competing sense of territorial legibility, most notably over the maritime Arctic.  The ongoing attempt of the coastal states to map and survey their continental shelves is one powerful manifestation of that desire, in the words of the US led Extended Continental Shelf Project, for ‘certainty’ and ‘recognition.’  Informing, and indeed enhancing, that desire for those aforementioned qualities is a whole series of ‘bordering practices’ ranging from demarcating the outer continental shelf to speculating about new fears of illegal trans-shipment and illicit flows through an ice-free Arctic.  What, however, is clear is that those Arctic coastal states seeking ‘certainty’ and ‘recognition’ will have to do so in a world much changed from the Cold War era when extra-territorial actors and indigenous communities were either marginal or marginalized, respectively (cf. Osherenko & Young, 1989).  (Dodds, 2010, p. 72)  Gerhardt et al. (2010), however note the persistence of traditional yet maladapted modes of sovereignty in the Arctic. In the Arctic, states often seek to perpetuate these traditional and assumed ways of defining and delimiting sovereign jurisdiction, notwithstanding the region’s increasing material instability brought about by climate change.  To expound on this 	 43 proposition we turn to three debates in the contemporary Arctic: the question of sovereignty in the Northwest Passage, conflicts over control in the Arctic Ocean, and the potential for enhanced multilateral governance in the region. (Gerhardt et al., 2010, p. 995)  Steinberg (2010) discusses in more detail the competing interests and challenges states face in asserting sovereignty.  He alludes to the need to constantly reproduce performances of sovereignty and the stubborn challenges of asserting governance in the area. Geopolitics of the Arctic are driven by contradictory tendencies toward internalization and externalization, as states (and other actors) variously suggest that the Arctic should be claimed as state territory, governed through multilateral accords, managed by international institutions, or organized through shared power between state and non-state entities.  These different management schemes are buttressed by contradictory representations of the Arctic as near and far, territorializable and beyond territorialization, dynamic and static, two-dimensional and three-dimensional, normal and aberrant. (p. 82)  Moisio and Paasi (2013b) also describe how states seek to assert several forms of sovereignty to maintain their authority over shifting territorial framings: While Cowen and Smith’s idea of two modalities of social, geopolitical and geoeconomic, is highly inspiring, the spatial configurations of the state are specific to each geohistorical situation.  In this light, the gradual rise of the geoeconomic social to parallel the geopolitical social and the increasingly neoliberal management of state space do not denote the end of state co-ordination, or an erosion of the aspirations to govern population and socio-spatial relations within states.  It rather denotes governmental interventions which simultaneously seek to “open up” the state spatially, to maintain “national” territorial order within the state, and to affect the capacities, qualities and entrepreneurial potentials of the population—transforming it again into a resource which is useful for state authorities. (Moisio and Paasi, 2013b, p. 280)  My findings extend these analyses of sovereignty under changing conditions to argue that states do not navigate these tensions in isolation.  Rather, corporations help states navigate these contradictions as they co-produce narratives that encourage certain material practices of sovereignty.  In these cases they frame the Arctic region itself as a space for energy and security.  I follow Lefebvre’s conception of the production of space as 	 44 “simultaneously material and metaphorical” (Hart, 2002, p. 818).  Among Arctic scholars I draw on a smaller literature that explores how states and non-state actors shape each other through the processes of deterritorialization and reterritorialization.  Heininen and Nicol (2007a) provide an example. The agency for deterritorialization and reterritorialization in all these cases has been co-operation among national and sub-national groups, but a co-operation which has been conditioned and facilitated by new translational agreements such as the AEPs as well as new institutional structures such as the Arctic Council. (p. 162)  Such scholarship begins to move towards more holistic analyses of complex, evolving state behavior in the region.  Nicol (2010) argues that,  And while the interests of state in appropriating Arctic maritime spaces are very real, as Dodds clearly demonstrates, there remains regardless a growing trend toward devolution and empowerment of regional actors, within their own states, which will have implications for how governments make claims in the Arctic, and the rationale they hold for doing so. (p. 80)  Heininen and Nicol (2007a, p. 161) avoid the dichotomous models of static competing states or new sovereign actors.  Rather, they draw these two strands together by analyzing how states navigate (and create) regional change by adapting their policies in response to new non-state actors. In terms of the bigger picture, we can argue that indigenous voices and issues are entering into the geopolitical discourse of the circumpolar North, not only via the structure of the Arctic Council, but also by the attention given to indigenous issues by new [state] northern dimension policies. (Heininen and Nicol, 2007a, p. 160)  Heininen and Nicol (2007a, p. 162) also note these practices include “new forms of flexible governance, foreign policy and northern dimension policies recently developed by the ‘Arctic states’”: As such, with reference to the question raised at the beginning of this paper—whether we can see in our comparative narrative of northern dimension policies in Arctic rim states evidence of linked relationships between globalization and the changing function of state sovereignty; there are concrete examples of the deterritorialization of 	 45 the state and the associated changing roles and functions of international boundaries (reflected in the changing constitutive role of geopolitical texts, narratives and traditions) and the ‘re-territorialization’ of the state as a new actor within the circumpolar region. (Heininen and Nicol, 2007a, p. 162)  My analytical focus contributes corporations as examples of non-state actors precipitating deterritorialized and territorialized practices of state sovereignty in transnational Arctic governance.  Corporations, like states, must navigate a transnational context.  Like states, they are simultaneously deterritorialized and territorialized.  I draw on scholarly problematizations of strictly “deterritorialized” corporations set in opposition to territorialized states outside Arctic scholarship.  Barkan, for example, argues that corporations are territorialized just as states are, and are in fact constantly re-territorialized.  Just as states claim territories through spatial demarcations, so, too, does corporate sovereignty entail a series of spatial arrangements (Barkan, 2013, 13). Barkan also emphasizes relationships as the means to animate corporate re-territorializations across space.  These relations are the “spatial and territorial assemblages by which corporate power is organized and consolidated” (2013, p. 13).  This is key to my argument that corporations make decisions through their interactions with other actors.  Barkan argues, in fact, that it is precisely because corporations have to manage shifting spatial arrangements that they have to interact with other actors: “It is not just the [corporate] territorialization itself (the trade route, the free trade zone) but larger assemblages of power that enable these territorializations that come into being” (2013, p. 13). I return now to the question of how states exercise effective sovereignty in the problematic Arctic.  The complex states in this dissertation are embedded in global economic processes and remain at the heart of the region’s complex transnational governance.  I contribute to this literature by foregrounding corporations and how their interactions 	 46 (especially with states) create economic networks and relationships that blur these actors’ control within and beyond nation-state boundaries.  I find that corporations help states assert sovereignty in several ways that disrupt state/non-state, material/representational, and deterritorialized/territorial binaries: 1) through shared discourse that links localities and states to global flows of energy and migration or security (framed broadly); 2) by assuming some economic development practices from states, and 3) as objects of state regulation.  In order to understand how these new forms of sovereignty operate, I find the analytical lens of political economy useful to understand how states make decisions.  My use of political economy addresses a gap in critical geographic literature on Arctic governance. Despite the processes of globalization in which the Arctic region operates, critical Arctic research often lacks a substantive analysis of how economics affects state activity in the region.  Analyses of new forms of sovereignty and governance deemphasize economic drivers for state and non-state behavior in favor of prioritizing political decision-making (Shadian, 2010; Dodds, 2010; Nadasdy, 2012; Coulthard, 2007).  Analyses of political economy exist, but are often empirical rather than theoretical, and are often unintegrated into analyses critiquing classical geopolitics. These analyses perpetuate an artificial division between economic and political analyses of state behavior.  They fail to address what Heininen describes as a “growing [reemerging] strategic importance of the North geopolitically and geo-economically” by “Arctic and non-Arctic states” (Heininen cited in Powell & Dodds, 2014, p. 255).  My work responds to scholars noting that in the North, “territoriality is operationalized in alliance with political interests and economic concerns (Dittmer et al., 2011, p. 202). 	 47 An under-examined economic dimension is a shortcoming in Arctic critical geopolitical research in particular.  Actual state and non-state activity in the Arctic addresses overlapping economic, political, social and military spheres in practice and discourse.  In the harsh conditions of distance and environment in the circumpolar region, economics is an important but underanalyzed driver in the political decision-making of all stakeholders, although costs and benefits are conceptualized and valued very differently among actors. In considering the role of economics in political decision-making, I aim to contribute to emerging research in geography focused on how states exert sovereignty in a globalized era.  My emphasis on the nitty-gritty of the hard economic choices stakeholders must make in the Arctic highlights how regional actors negotiate in a governance arena heavily influenced by economic considerations.  I draw on disparate work that reconceptualizes Arctic states in the context of globalized economic and political processes.  This work is scattered across several Arctic geographical literatures, including geopolitics, political geography, and economic geography, and emphasizes evolving states.  As a caveat, however, as Wacquant (2012) notes, I want to avoid overemphasizing the economic rationalities underpinning state behavior.  I draw on Moisio and Paasi’s (2013b) caution that not all state behavior can be boiled down to profitability.  Their empirical case study of the Finnish state resonates with analyses of Russia, post-Soviet states, and even the United States: If neoliberalism (and geoeconomic social [sic]) tends to judge all economic activities in terms of profitability, and all social activities in terms of their contribution to capital accumulation, not all spatial policy practices related to the management of state space can be straightforwardly associated with neoliberalism. (Moisio & Paasi, 2013b, p. 279)  	 48  Several scholars even argue that state behavior can be better characterized as geo-economics, although this is disputed.  To avoid getting bogged down in this debate, I use the concept of political economy in my analysis.  I find that states and corporations share some key narratives and complementary material practices of state sovereignty.  The complex, evolving states in this dissertation exercise sovereignty in new and powerful ways that merge state power with market processes.  States are not, in other words, necessarily losing power to market processes.  I draw on theoretical debates about how this occurs.  I do not trace these debates here, but note that most scholars see important, evolving roles for states in overlapping economic and political realms.  Wacquant (2012) argues the neoliberal state may be losing power in some areas but asserting itself in others.  He argues that “neoliberalism is not an economic but a political project; it entails not the dismantling but the reengineering of the state” (2012, p. 71).  Scholars may not, therefore, want to decentre the state in analysis, but rather place it in new contexts.  Bourdieu’s bureaucratic field theory makes a similar argument, and Collier (2012) cites Hilgers’s (2012, p. 82, n. 3) argument that Foucauldian scholarship also contrasts neoliberalism with classical liberalism, and does so in part through “the active role it imagines for government in creating the conditions for diffusion of markets and market-like mechanisms” (Collier, 2012, p. 190). Similarly, Sassen (2006), following Foucault, argues “economic corporate globalization (the dominant form of globalization now) could not have happened without use of highly developed capabilities of national economies that also strengthened the state and are again relodged into globalizing dynamics” (p. 13).  Jessop (2002) says something similar about the role of the state: “Despite the challenges to the primacy of the national state, it still 	 49 has key roles in organizing the global economy, the global polity and an emerging global civil society.  In other words, the national state is being reimagined, redesigned and re-oriented in response to these challenges rather than withering away” (p. 9). In terms of how this co-reliance manifests empirically “on the ground,” I draw on Barkan (2013), who argues we can see that corporations play central and complementary roles supplementing (rather than undermining) states’ public responsibilities.  He argues that “the economic strengths of corporations enable them to govern fundamental aspects of life without the checks associated with democratic government” (pp. 9–10): From urban redevelopment projects coordinated through public-private partnerships, to the subcontracting of military, prison, and security functions, corporations play a fundamental role in providing public goods and exercise powers customarily associated with formal state institutions. (Barkan, 2013, p. 1)  Barkan emphasizes the historical contingencies that created these state/corporate dynamics. He argues that the “outsized role of corporations in fostering contemporary economic globalization emerged within distinct assemblages of power, space, and knowledge” (2013, p. 14).  This grounded approach echoes the approach of scholars discussed earlier, such as Agnew (2007), Toal (1996), and Ley (2004). To return to state activity in the Arctic specifically, then, I draw on scholars who emphasize the relationship between sovereignty and economic development.  They focus on how states promote economic growth in the region, and create a role for themselves in the process.  They agree on what Gerhardt et al. describe as Arctic states’ “enduring power to … define and delimit … sovereign jurisdiction” (2010, pp. 994–995). In this case ‘sovereign jurisdiction’ has both territorial and deterritorialized aspects. Arctic scholars discuss selective state intervention and its impact on where economic development occurs and how.  As Abele (2011) argues, Arctic governments are “willing to” 	 50 intervene in the region in order to promote sovereignty, but only in certain policy areas where they have sole jurisdiction and which fill out their version of sovereignty (p. 219). In broader critical geopolitical literature, such discussion of political economy seems to have fallen away possibly because it is viewed as reproducing neorealist framings.  However I find political economy a useful framework to examine state practices of sovereignty in the region. Powell (2008), for example, discusses cooperation between states, energy companies, and other private sector actors at the transnational level to reconfigure the circumpolar region as a resource frontier.  I draw on his emphasis on cooperative efforts of state and private sector actors, an unusual analytical approach in Arctic geopolitical research that mainly focuses on conflict and on how states frame the Arctic.  Powell (2008) describes this reconfiguration as closely tied to knowledge production, as the “construction of the Arctic as a resource hinterland” that developed in part as these actors “located energy security in the northern latitudes” (p. 829).  Dodds (2011), critiques the neorealist interests of the Canadian state in its selective intervention in the Arctic. “[The state focus] on sovereignty and territorial integrity and reinforces militarised understandings of security, with due emphasis given to the role of the military (and associated actors such as the coastguard), surveillance and monitoring, resource nationalism and limited co-operation, in particular with the other coastal states” (p. 373). Similarly, Rasell (2009) notes that states are withdrawing social spending, challenging resident welfare.  He notes, “northern countries have moved away from direct subsidization by central governments and the introduction of policies that place greater responsibility on individuals and the private sector for providing welfare services” (p.103). Weissling (1989) 	 51 reiterates the impact national (and global) trends have on Arctic economies noting, “…peripheral areas depend on market conditions in the metropolitan centres” (p. 212).  He also describes his view of state activity in the Arctic. Peripheral regions in both Canada and Africa have experienced change brought about by development agents from government, business, and religion. Government has sought to elicit ways and means to achieve goals of increased gross domestic product and to provide aspects of modern society for its citizens. (Weissling, 1989, p. 214)  Also in geography, non-Arctic development scholars note that creating conditions that favor foreign investment is among the practices states engage in to assert sovereignty (Emel, Huber, & Makene, 2011).  Thus in selective expressions of sovereignty, we see how states (and in Powell’s [2008] analysis, states and private sector actors) drive new processes of deterritorialization and reterritorialization.  In his analysis of the processes of globalization, Sparke (2013) describes how deterritorializing practices give rise to new forms of governable spaces and objects.  He notes, The ways in which today’s deterritorializing developments—global commodity chains, integrated financial markets, inter-continental jet travel, the Internet, the sale of public land, and so on—simultaneously created patterns of reterritorialization—digital divides, resource wars, trade blocs, global cities, cross-border regions, export processing zones, gated communities, shopping malls, privatized prisons, and so on.  Globalization clearly has the capacity to destroy old spatial patterns and barriers, but it simultaneously creates new geographies that are just as powerful when it comes to territorializing. (Sparke, 2013, p. 280)  Jessop (2002) also finds a “false split” between state power and globalization.  He argues that to understand relationships between state behavior, capitalism and globalization, we must examine “the political preconditions underwriting the transformations of global economic geography” (p. 26). He adds, “Not only is the state shaped by capitalism but capitalism is shaped by states and by other social systems” (p. 26). Similarly, Glassman 	 52 (1999) writes, “Both … that the internationalization of capital is increasingly important and … that states retain a crucial role in the international political economy” (p. 691).  However, he notes that states are complex, and do not act as a single entity (p. 691). Smith (2015) also argues that there has been an effort to reintegrate the state and its important role at many scales into economic analyses, but that such work often fails to incorporate the broader global economic context. This lack of theorization results in a focus on government policy at local, national and international scales per se—a focus which has not provided a framework for understanding the articulation between state regulation, production networks and the wider accumulation strategies of which they are a part.  Consequently, the explanatory power of these frameworks is weakened by not accounting for a key ensemble of power and action in global production arrangements. (p. 291)  Smith asks scholars not to focus narrowly on government policy but on the broader context in which states operate.  This leads to the last area of this conceptual review.  The following section examines how policy rationales emerge from diverse actors, scales, and practices in the region.  3.3 Knowledge Production  As we have seen, critical geographers explore new ways to conceptualize how Arctic governance works in the context of new globalized processes.  They aim to understand, to paraphrase Kuus (2014), why this place is “dealt with in a particular manner.”  They aim to integrate the perspectives of a range of circumpolar actors, and ask how we can reconsider states and governance in this new context.  These scholars emphasize that knowledge springs from many places at once. However, framings and language used by powerful actors reifies certain forms of knowledge, and their role in governance.  Heininen (2014) notes, “[t]he entire North is also a knowledge-based region 	 53 with innovations in governance, and political and legal arrangements. What all this means, thus, is that there are many different kinds of Arctic(s), and consequently associated claims regarding its governance and stewardship” (p. 255). In my case studies, localities, corporations, and federal governments all want to exercise control over economic development in the region, which relies in large part on controlling the terms of the debate.  Security narratives are deployed in ways that favor some forms of economic development over others. I argue that states and corporations in these cases often reiterate each other’s framings.  Together their choices dominate framings of the region that shape the trajectory of regional development.  My analysis focuses on how states and corporations create narratives and practices that shape the region. I draw on knowledge production literature as I examine how states and private sector actors develop the assumptions on which they act. My focus on their interactions as the source of new forms of sovereignty brings together two strands of knowledge production research in the Arctic: one that aims to integrate new stakeholders and their knowledges into regional decision-making, and another that emphasizes how states frame the region through their own practices. It extends work by scholars who argue the state does not have preset interests, but rather constantly creates itself. This study contributes the interactive role of corporations in this process. This could also be framed as attention to expressions of sovereignty under changing conditions. I argue actors develop, redevelop, and adapt their interests in relation to each other. “[A] s the state ‘makes itself’ through processes of subject making, state sovereignty is an ‘effect’ of these territorial and non-territorial practices” (Kuus & Agnew, 2008, p. 21). 	 54  I draw on work by critical scholars analyzing how states overlay their own framings as they engage in the region, often through mapping and Arctic policy programs (Dodds, 2012, Steinberg 2010, Foxall 2014), and how they come to overrule “knowledges” and imaginaries of other actors (Nutall 2014).  To interrogate the relationships between power and knowledge in the region these scholars draw on critical scholarship around knowledge production developed in non-Arctic contexts (Dodds, Kuus, & Sharp, 2013).  These analyses critique the assumptions underlying state decision-making (Kuus, 2011; Agnew, 2007).  Geographers investigate the cycle in which the underlying assumptions about the region wielded by the most powerful institutions seep into analytical assumptions in Arctic geopolitical analysis.  These assumptions then shape outcomes by defining the number of acceptable actions, discourses and practices, crowding out alternative knowledges and power.  As Ó Tuathail (1996) notes, “‘Geopolitics’ is a sign for the problematic of geo-politics, the politics of the production of global political space by dominant intellectuals, institutions, and practitioners of statecraft in practices that constitute ‘global politics” (p. 185). Indeed, Heininen (2014) argues that dominant assumptions and knowledges are “sticky”; they still dominate regional geopolitics and must be accounted for (p. 248).  He also notes that historically dominant actors in the region remain very powerful (p. 248), and that the  “militaristic and security legacies associated with the Cold War did not disappear in 1991, notwithstanding new claims regarding ‘the future of the North’” (p. 243). Therefore, he concludes, although the region seems to be moving “from confrontation to cooperation … [we] should not underestimate the persistence of the discourses and practices of security, sovereignty and stewardship” (Heininen, 2014, p. 250).		 By emphasizing enduring state power I do not aim to reify container state analytical models, but to account for the stubborn and evolving role of states in Arctic governance.  I analyze realist framings because they are used in much grey, popular, and even academic analysis of the Arctic. Realist models still matter empirically, so scholars must address them.  	 55 Several geographers identify as “realist” the dominant narratives and framings of the region used to rationalize particular geopolitical practices.  At the same time, I also draw on work by critical scholars that aims to integrate knowledge produced by non-state regional stakeholders. Heininen (2014) summarizes the integration of this approach in Arctic analysis. In the 1990s, a ‘new’ geopolitics alongside a more ‘critical’ geopolitics emerged within and beyond the academy.  This new approach to geopolitics emphasizes other factors instead of physical space, natural resources and power, such as cultural identity and traditional knowledge systems. … It also emphasized that there are other actors, such as indigenous peoples with their distinct cultures and geographical imaginations (Jukarainen, 1999) (Heininen, 2014, pp. 245–246).  Powell and Dodds (2014) propose new frameworks for geopolitical analyses that do not privilege the imaginaries of states.  They focus on the knowledges and geographical imaginaries of other actors, particularly indigenous and other Arctic residents.  A fundamental and necessary destabilizing and de-centering move in a critical polar geopolitics would be the tackle the view that implicitly takes the natural vantage point of geographical analysis to be national governments and states.  Much of what goes for mainstream geopolitical writing today involves the projection of the contest and interest of a few states, often southern constituencies in the Arctic context, onto the world at large.  A better analysis of world affairs requires a sustained critique of these ‘doubtful particularisms’ and a recognition that indigenous/Northern communities might have different geographical imaginaries than [southern capitals](Agnew, 2005). (Powell and Dodds, 2014, p. 9-10)  These parallel lines of research tie in with that of “geographical imaginaries,” an enduring thread in critical geopolitical analyses, also applied to the Arctic context (Steinberg, Tasch, & Gerhardt, 2015).  This concept can help explain how the ongoing dominance of certain knowledges and practices harden the division between actual and “imaginary” framings of the region.  Barkan (2016), discussing the Arctic specifically, argues that through analyzing processes we can understand how power dynamics ensure some geographic 	 56 imaginaries remain imaginary, and others become practices. [As] Wainwright (2005, p. 1037) noted, imaginaries are geographic in the sense that they are constituted out of concrete socio-spatial relations between people and places, but they are also powerful precisely because they “become hegemonic as geographies are naturalized and sediment as common sense through political and cultural practices.” (Barkan, 2016, p. 175)  I also address a second shortcoming in Arctic knowledge production literature.  Work regarding the different knowledges of the region rarely analyzes the production aspect of knowledge production, that is, the construction of knowledge paradigms among actors and how they extend power (Powell, 2008 is an example of an exception).  Most studies analyze knowledges as competing narratives by different institutions, rather than focusing on the how of their interaction and deployment. I focus on how cycles of narratives and practices of security and development emerge between actors and across scales.  They are not created de novo in these sites, nor indeed only in these sites.  Neither are they formed solely at the state level, but rather dialogically across scales and between actors.  This finding speaks to Agnew’s observation (2007) that “knowledge is made as it circulates; it is never made completely in one place and then simply consumed as is elsewhere” (p. 146).  Indeed local specificities shape the knowledge circulating between sites.  Agnew goes on to note “where still matters but with respect to how ideas are understood (how texts are read) more than in terms of where new knowledge is initially produced” (2007, p. 145).  Agnew’s networks are a useful way to image the paths along which assumptions and narratives travel in these cases. Places are almost always parts of spatial networks reaching across cultural and political barriers and yet settings in which distinctive social and moral habits and routines take place.  Recent thinking in human geography suggests that relational spaces and relatively bounded places coexist and interrelate rather than being mutually exclusive.  (Agnew, 2007, p. 141)  	 57 To understand how knowledge framings manifest themselves in policy production, I also draw on work regarding technocratic governmentality and the actors who have power to set rules and create both “problems” and “solutions” (Dunn, 2005).  I extend this analytical framing to multinational corporations who wield significant technical knowledge.  Similar work has been done in the Arctic context, particularly work on how scientists were enrolled in projects that buttressed Cold War–era projects in the Arctic that straddled spheres of science and the military (Farish, 2006; Powell, 2008).  Similarly, non-geographers argue that understanding these specific framings helps us understand governance more broadly by providing “windows onto [broader] political processes in which actors, agents, concepts and technologies interact in different sites, creating or consolidating new rationalities of governance and regimes of knowledge” (Shore, Wright, & Pero, 2011, p. 2). 3.3.1 Security and development  Many scholars in critical political and economic geography recognize economic development, as well as “militarised understandings of security” (Dodds, 2011), as political mechanisms used to extend state sovereignty (Sidaway, 2007; Watts, 2008; Ferguson & Gupta, 2002).  However, the study of how they operate together, specifically in the Arctic, and by non-state actors, is in its infancy (Dodds, 2011; Rasell, 2009).  This gap reflects Reid-Henry’s (2011) question of the meaning of the security-development nexus.  Certainly, there is no doubt that the ‘nexus’ has its own discursive reality and that the felt need of the international community to pursue development and security policies alongside one another is shaping practice in this regard (a trend that is often taken to be something quintessentially new; however, for a useful argument against such presumed novelty, see Buur et al., 2007a; see also Cooper, 2006).  Establishing quite what sort of meanings actors and scholars are attributing to the nexus, therefore, is a task of some importance. (Reid-Henry, 2011, p. 97)  	 58 I argue that state and private sector actors use security framings to link development to projects of state sovereignty.  I also argue that security and development are tools of transnational governance. I therefore contribute to Arctic critical geopolitical literature in three ways.  First, I examine how security and development mechanisms are deployed rhetorically and materially in tandem by public and private actors. Second, my analysis brings together security and development, which are usually analyzed in separate Arctic literatures.  Third, I focus on intertwined security and development framings as ways states and private sector actors stretch their influence across scales. I expand Sidaway’s argument (2007) that development is a useful lens to understand state decision-making across scales.  […] development retains significant power to shape national imaginations and strategies.  However, ever more superimposed on national narratives and schemes (reworking their roles) are sub and transnational spaces, nodes and networks, marked by a variety of fractures and boundary practices.  (p. 355)   This argument draws on scholarship that notes how capital and states help each other develop intertwined security and development framings (Bigo, 2002; Kuus & Agnew, 2008; Sidaway, 2007).  However, my focus on the private sector decentres the state in these theories by examining how the deterritorialized interests of capital influence (and are influenced by) state practices (Barkan, 2013). As I mentioned, I evaluate security and development as rhetorical and strategic devices in decision-making and rationales to extend sovereignty.  I consider “security” broadly to explore its explicit and implicit use in these narratives.  By examining this connection as it occurs in these cases, I aim to add complexity to the idea of security as a floating signifier.  These cases suggest that security is invoked in Arctic rhetoric in two ways: as a discursive device to align interests and make issues important to different stakeholders.  It also refers to very specific and concrete issues or proposals.  This study focuses on the use 	 59 of security as a political tool in governance.  As Kuus notes, “security claims are malleable and (therefore) potent political forces” (Kuus, 2007, p. xii).  In the cases of Norilsk and Barrow, security refers to very specific issues but its larger use is as an omnipresent referent.  It has been long linked to geostrategic narratives (historically), in other geographic regions besides the Arctic (the Middle East, for example).  It is used almost to convey an issue, an imperative or problem that must be addressed.  Beyond the realm of geopolitics, security is increasingly used in conjunction with policy areas where this signifier was not usually used explicitly, such as economic or energy security. I explore not just what, but how security shapes new forms of governance.  I extend critical geopolitical analyses of the region that critique the narrow definition of security used in mainstream discourse and realist framings of the region.  Some analyses may focus on state use of Arctic policy language (Nutall as cited in Powell & Dodds, 2014) to analyze how states seek to protect national security and geostrategic resources.  Scholars have noted however that conceptions of security have broadened in the Arctic to include economic, environmental, and human dimensions (Heininen & Nicol, 2007b, p.117). However more recently some of the same scholars describe a resurgence of realist security “discourse and practices” in the Arctic region, even after the end of the Cold War (Heininen as cited in Powell & Dodds, 2014, p. 250).   Arctic geographers have begun to explore how security is constructed as a mode of governance or policy rationale (Powell & Dodds, 2014).  Some analyses draw on critical theories about how non-traditional national security issues like migration become geopolitical preoccupations of states (Ingram & Dodds, 2009).  This study also draws on work outside the Arctic that argues “soft” issues like migration and environmental 	 60 protection become geopolitical questions as states “frame them rhetorically as geopolitical concerns” (Kuus & Agnew, 2008, p. 12; Collyer, 2012). A security lens connects to debates about how complementary state and non-state activity changes the role of states.  This discussion is not located in Arctic geopolitical literature but rather, non-Arctic development literature which discusses state and capital relations in more depth.  This literature better addresses the role of non-state actors, although usually analyzed separately from “geopolitical” literature (Watts, 2008; Ferguson, & Gupta, 2002).  They note that “domination doesn’t have to be rooted in state power, but can be exercised by entities other than the state, like private multinational corporations (Ferguson & Gupta, 2002, p. 992). I argue the security-development framing helps private sector actors achieve their economic goals, among them economic efficiency and selective intervention, goals shared with the state.  My focus on private sectors actors, and their participation in promoting security and development also draws from Reid-Henry’s (2011) call for scholars to explore how the security-development nexus plays out across scales and how non-state actors contribute their own meanings of security and development. If security has become globalized then, as the development studies scholar Stuart Corbridge (1993, p. 468) has written, such ‘a space of flows calls forth a compelling machinery of fixity.’  The concept of the development-security nexus mediates this colloid of fixity and flow perfectly, and it is important that any critical mapping of the nexus considers exactly how it so operates.  This immediately requires us to reflect on the fact that it is not only states and the international community who undertake such mediating work: humanitarian operations, for example, are also often far from politically neutral; though their actions may not be so directly mediated through the development-security nexus, they are increasingly contributing their own meanings to the practice of development and security (Slaughter and Crisp, 2008; Macrae, 2002).  So, too, are private security actors and researchers themselves, all of whom may in different ways be working in collaboration with one another.  Given this proliferation in development-security actors, there is a need to reflect upon the return impact of such activity. (Reid-Henry, 2011, p. 101) 	 61  An analysis by Roberts (2014) addresses Reid-Henry’s call for more research on the role of non-state actors at the security-development nexus.  Her analysis examines how states operate as parts of assemblages that include non-state actors.  Her empirical study focuses on how USAID, a US government agency, administers civilian foreign aid in cooperation with private sector contractors.  Roberts examines how the meanings of security and development circulate between state and non-state actors and into broader discourse and set institutional norms and practices.  In the process, both public and private sector actors construct the field of foreign aid.  Roberts’ analysis of development assistance practices are similar to Wedel’s analysis of processes of Western aid to the post-Soviet world.  This kind of network-based deeply empirical but theoretically grounded governance analysis can be seen in certain publications related to the Arctic (Nuttall, 2014). Methodologically, her analysis illustrates the cooperation of state and non-state actors, what she describes as “webs of relations.” Similar to Barkan (2013), Dittmer et al. (2011) and others, she draws on assemblage theory, noting that her analysis “joins other efforts wherein assemblage thinking and a materialist analysis based in political economy align” (Roberts, 2014, p. 2).  Roberts grounds her analysis in contingency but emphasizes the actors and their relationships. First, then, this assemblage contains a myriad of people and things.  Any of them could have been useful starting points for an analysis.  Given the paucity of basic research on this assemblage, however, this article had to conceptualize this assemblage in the first place and then identify key components.  Consistent with its relational approach and its focus on the middle, much attention was given to identifying and delineating the key entities involved in USAID development contracting.  Among the things identified are companies and organizations, institutions themselves made up of relational webs connecting social and material elements. (Roberts, 2014, p. 17)  	 62 Compared to Roberts, my analysis is less institution-based. I more strongly emphasize the shifting relationships among constellations of actors and how they shape each other, rather than their relational structures. Assemblages, as employed by Roberts and others, focus on “relational webs” whereas I focus on “relational moments” and emphasize the tenuous nature of relationships.  My analysis also brings together several conceptions of security currently analyzed in disparate Arctic geographical literatures.  As we have seen Kuus and Agnew (2008) note how framing non-traditional topics as geopolitical concerns bring these different concepts of security into conversation. Similarly, I examine the synergistic ways several securities operate in the region to shape transnational Arctic governance and reshape state power more broadly.  In these cases, regional actors navigate competing pressures and cater to different audiences simultaneously.  For example, states must speak to domestic as well as global audiences; corporations must communicate with localities where they operate, states with whom they cooperate, and their stakeholders.  These stakeholders refer to multiple securities in their narratives, particularly economic, energy, and geostrategic security.  These different actors conceptualize security differently.  For example, Norilsk Nickel adopted formal and informal policies to shore up migration control to the city.  However they leveraged federal concerns about geopolitical security and regional development to protect their own interests in local migration control. Arctic geopolitical scholars rarely examine how different stakeholders use multiple security narratives in the Arctic context.  Alternative forms of security, including economic, human, food etc., are rarely examined in Arctic geopolitical literature.  They are, however, treated in depth in other Arctic sub-literatures, such as anthropology or 	 63 development.  These analyses focus on how non-state actors utilize the language of security.  They examine the forms of security emphasized by indigenous groups or embedded in the policy language of transnational organizations. I turn now to a discussion of energy security. Although Arctic geopolitical literature generally analyzes security and development as separate modes of sovereignty, energy security is a fruitful analytical lens to connect security and development as well as materialized and dematerialized processes of globalization. The narrative of energy security aids states hoping to control resource extraction processes, or to appear to control them. I draw on work by non-Arctic development scholars who note, “resource sovereignty conceives of control over internal resources in isolation from external relations” (Emel, Huber, & Makene, 2011). Energy security joins emerging research in non-Arctic contexts about new forms of security in the context of globalization.  Indeed, Heininen calls for more such work as a way to concretize geopolitical analyses across scales.  He notes “the importance of energy security as a new way to materialize the resource models of geopolitics” (214, p. 251). He also notes “the importance of interrelations between the region and the rest of the globe” (Heininen 2014, p. 248).  I build on the few in-depth analyses of resource corporations and their role in national security and energy security in the Arctic (Kristoffersen, 2014).   Bradshaw (2009, p. 1920) discusses the geopolitics of global energy security, which he defines as the “influence of geographical factors, such as the distribution of centres of supply and demand, on state and non-state actions to ensure adequate, affordable and reliable supplies of energy.”  Bradshaw further explains how the link between energy and security has become strengthened and intertwined in the US case.  He connects to Kuus’s (2007) 	 64 discussion of the processes through which new policy issues become reframed as security concerns, and the porous division between domestic and foreign policy (Kuus & Agnew, 2008): Only 16% of US crude oil and petroleum products came from the Persian Gulf.  However, because of its high level of import dependence, the USA is sensitive to any developments that threaten the secure supply of crude oil to global markets.  Thus, the promotion of global energy security is a key element of US foreign policy (Kalicki & Goodwyn, 2005; Yergin, 2006). (Bradshaw, 2009, p. 1926)  Other Arctic scholars argue that states use the rhetoric of energy security to link security rationales to their natural resource aspirations (Heininen, 2014, p. 252).  They draw on theories of state discourse and framing issues as “problems” to provide “solutions,” frame debates, and control outcomes (Ferguson, 1994; Burchell et al., 1991).  They draw also on  theories that involve the actors themselves, including collusion among capitalist elites (Glassman, 1999).  My use of the thread of political economy across the different political landscapes of Russia and the United States highlights similarities between these two cases.  It also allows differences to be discussed on the same conceptual ground.  The aim of this study is to examine effective sovereignty and state power (Agnew, 2009, p. 7).  That is, I focus on the actual application of state power.  I therefore seek to avoid falling into the trap of binarism when discussing these cases, of hopelessly polarized Russian socialist, authoritarian and American democratic, neoliberal regimes.  I do not seek to demonstrate that Russia and the United States are evolving as states in the same way, but rather that both are developing in the broader context of globalized processes, and in relation with capital.  I focus therefore on similarities and differences in these two cases  	 65 In my analysis I find both sites as partially market based, but with enduring, evolving roles for the state at various levels.  Thus I place the Russian case in conversation with the American case on the basis of Collier’s (2011) observation about neoliberalism as a new way for states to operate.  This observation emerged from his study on how neoliberalism behaves in post-Soviet Russia, through the empirical lens of state heating provision. Neoliberal reforms propose to selectively reconfigure inherited material structures, demographic patterns, and social norms.  They suggest new ways of programming government through the state that retain the social welfare norms established by soviet socialism Neoliberal reforms … seek to reconfigure social structures through the state (not displacing the state). (Collier, 2011, p. 2)  In terms of social policy, Russia and the United States navigate a similar central challenge of selective intervention in the Arctic due to limited resources and competing political choices, although these may be expressed very differently.  This is what Collier (2011) engages when he asks, “[h]ow we can reconcile the liberal preference for limited and decentralized government with ‘imperatives of substantive provisioning’ … at the core of the social state?” (p. 167).  Collier argues that we can apply the neoliberal lens to Russia because states have an unexpected role in the neoliberal context. They decide not only what they want to privatize, but also what they want or need to manage themselves.  States engage in the same types of calculations, but from different perspectives. “On the one hand we see states involved in governance through calculative choice and extension of market schemes to non-economic domains (like government).  But states also decide what public functions must be centrally managed (like national defence or social welfare)” (Collier, 2011, p. 185). Collier’s (2011) framework allows us to examine very different state processes of selective intervention on the basis of their differences as well as similarities. In the Russian economic transition, there has been “…less a ‘marketization’ or ‘privatization’ of a public 	 66 service—the universal slogan of neoliberalism’s critics—and more a patterning of social welfare mechanisms with techniques of commercialization and calculative choice” (p. 26). Rasell’s (2009) analysis of the Russian north led him to theorize along the same lines.  He notes some comparable liberal tendencies in Russia. “The welfare cuts and cost rationality being applied to the [Russian] North are indicative of a broader liberal trend in Russian social policy” (p. 104). However he expects an enduring state welfare role. “Ultimately, the neoliberal undertones exhibited in federal social policy may be inappropriate in the region, where markets and individuals cannot be expected to sustain well-being” (p. 104).   Collier (2011) also argues the Russian case helps us consider the co-reliance of states and markets. “Neoliberalism is not a common ideology but a style of economic reasoning that thinks calculating agents [are those] whose incentives were structured both by market signals and regulatory institutions” (p. 223).  I draw also on scholars outside geography who study the privatization of state power in the case of Russia. Wedel (2009), focuses on the increasingly porous border between public and private decision-making in many countries. These discussions of social policy occur at the complex intersection of political devolution thought to accompany liberal policy.  However, devolution of power to residents is not occurring evenly or smoothly at the circumpolar and domestic levels.  Rasell (2009) refers to Riabova (2004) as he discusses the paradox in the Russian case, of overall political centralization to Moscow, but a simultaneous and opposite trend with regards to social provision: “As in Russia, social policy change in northern countries has been associated with a decentralization of political authority to local and regional bodies (Riabova, 2004, p. 9)” (Rasell, 2009, p. 103).  In Russia, little state authority in other realms is devolving to local 	 67 populations, indigenous or non-indigenous.  After the fall of the Soviet government, formerly centralized state authority flowed more to local and regional decision-makers during the 1990s.  However, recently Moscow has begun to claw back state authority over decision-making in Arctic zones (Vlasova & Petrov, 2010, p. 188).  Finally, through this analysis of Russia and emphasis on political economy, I also address two gaps in the security-development nexus literature as articulated by Reid-Henry: 1) a focus on the global South, and 2) a neglect of economic analysis.  [These gaps] may lead us to overlook the application of the security-development nexus in other places, such as the former Soviet republics, for example, which are certainly deserving of attention (Macfarlane, 2004; see also Sidaway, 2000: 597).  Second, there is an overtly political emphasis on issues of security and development—particularly when they are seen to coincide—in place of the ways in which the security-development nexus is at work within other domains, such as economics.  (Reid-Henry, 2011, p. 100)  Scholarship on the Russian Arctic is highly interdisciplinary and international.  The research that touches on Russian politics and political economy most directly related to my research is primarily from Russian and non-Russian geographers and political scientists.  It includes Russia’s business-state relations (Orttung, 2006), circumpolar geopolitics (Heininen, 2014), development policies of Russian Arctic cities, and city-state relations (Didyk & Riabova, 2013), and Russian nationalism and immigration (Alexseev, 2011). I draw on Russian political scientists studying various aspects of Russian state power in the region, including “soft power” (Medvedev, 2016; Sergunin & Konyshev, 2015), Russian international cooperation in the Arctic (Pelyasov & Kotov, 2015), and Soviet and Russian Arctic policy (historically and currently) (McCannon, 1998; Laruelle, 2014). I refer to other literature in the Russian Arctic including empirical case studies of CSR (Graybill, 2009) or cases of indigenous reaction to oil and development from extractive industries (Yakovleva, 	 68 2011).  Several geographers publish for interdisciplinary audiences on diverse topics, while other scholars write on human-environment interaction and socio-economic well-being, and state-indigenous relations, in the Russian North (Vlasova & Petrov, 2010; Kuklina, 2013), including issues of indigenous land rights and legal geography in Russia (and comparatively with Canada) (Fondahl et al., 2015).  These scholars exemplify geographical scholarship at the intersection of environment, territory, and governance issues. To conclude, this study places Arctic development and geopolitical literature in conversation by analyzing the impact of private sector decisions on governance and state sovereignty.  I aim to understand the relationship between political power and economic development.  I draw on geographic scholarship on the expanding role of non-state actors in regional development and political devolution, new governance arrangements, and the relationship between residents and development.  Work at these intersections is more grounded in socio-political geography, connecting domestic and transnational governance, compared to the more classic geopolitical analysis. Scholars of Arctic critical geopolitical literature in geography often overlay existing critical theories of sovereignty and geopolitics onto the region.  This work has several shortcomings that I address in my study: 1) an overreliance on politics at the expense of political economy and economics, 2) an overemphasis on static states with predetermined interests as the unit of analysis, 3) lack of empirical examples of multiscalar, historically grounded governance.  By emphasizing the how of governance practices, rather than the actors or networks themselves, my process-based approach addresses a fourth gap in critical Arctic scholarship. 	 69 Chapter 4: Offshore Oil and Its Discontents: Negotiating in the North Slope and Beyond      Figure 2.  The North Slope of Alaska (NSB)  Source: (public domain)  This chapter examines petroleum company Royal Dutch Shell’s effort to begin Arctic drilling off the coast of Alaska’s North Slope, in the Chukchi Sea.  I focus on negotiations around a profit-sharing agreement concluded in 2014 between a subsidiary of Royal Dutch Shell PLC and several Native corporations in the North Slope.  Shell intended the agreement to advance its larger program to undertake offshore oil development in the area.  The negotiations provide a lens to examine the broader efforts of Shell as a private sector actor to promote offshore development among other stakeholders.  Shell’s initiative occurs as sea ice melts and international shipping and resource exploration in Arctic seas increases.  Offshore regions, such as those near the North Slope, are emerging as new sites of resource activity in the American Arctic.  Sparsely populated by an indigenous majority, the North Slope faces new dilemmas in the specter of expanded offshore drilling.  The region already hosts significant onshore oil production in Prudhoe Bay.  It sustains itself on these revenues and its petroleum operations closely bind this 	 70 apparently remote region to state, federal and international oil development interests.  In this strategic place, stakeholders vie for control of the inputs around development—the resources, land, and decision-making authority.  In fact, offshore oil development is extremely controversial among stakeholders at several geographic scales.  To some, offshore oil development near the North Slope represents a new opportunity; to others, it is a new threat.  It is unquestionably a new chapter in American energy and Arctic policy. An empirical focus on the profit sharing negotiations illuminates the complex relationships and interactions among stakeholders at several geographic scales.  I use this profit sharing agreement as a policy lens in parallel to the migration controls I will examine in the case of Norilsk.  Although treating different empirical issues, both case studies allow us to examine the processes of decision-making among public and private sector actors.  These actors shape the governance landscapes locally and Arctic decision-making more broadly in the American and Russian Arctic. In negotiations, Shell promoted its offshore program as a means to ensure economic and energy security locally, nationally, and for the state of Alaska.  The company buttressed this rhetoric with spending and material investments at these scales.  Shell adjusted its rhetoric to apparently align with the plans and interests of Native corporations, as well as state and federal goals in the Arctic, which are often framed around slightly different readings of security and resource development.  Thus Shell not only reiterated security and resource development narratives and activities already employed by other stakeholders, but by framing its offshore project as a remedy for these goals, Shell encouraged these actors to further prioritize them in their activities and narratives.  Thus I argue that together these actors link their interests across scales in considering offshore oil as a means to achieve the 	 71 shared goals of economic efficiency framed in terms of security, in the development of the American Arctic.  It also suggests that private sector companies can, along with the public sector, entrench regional framings that shape local and regional decision-making practices.  As this chapter proceeds, to simplify a complex narrative, I focus only on how the six main stakeholders most closely involved in Shell’s offshore program negotiate their interests.  These include Shell, state and federal governments, and in the North Slope, the borough government, Native corporations, and tribal organizations. This chapter begins by briefly setting Shell’s offshore oil program in the Chukchi Sea in the context of American energy and Arctic policies.  I sketch the broader context so the rest of the narrative makes sense.  I will return to it in more depth in section 4.  I focus on energy decision-making in the Alaskan Arctic and how offshore petroleum development fits into national energy and security strategies.  The stakeholders involved in the development of the U.S. oil economy are overviewed.  All stakeholders interact through multiple, interdependent, and contradictory relationships.  Section two provides a historical overview of the North Slope and Alaska.  It traces how the key stakeholders in Shell’s offshore debate became influential decision-makers.  The historical dynamics among these stakeholders illuminate how the North Slope has become such a strategic place, how oil and gas dependency evolved, and how it affects newer offshore debates.  Section three moves into the present day.  It outlines the current political economies of Alaska and the North Slope, and their recent efforts to sustain themselves in light of their shared dilemma of oil dependency.  Part four examines how Shell’s new and controversial drilling program reengages longstanding stakeholder relationships and debates in new ways.  The chapter concludes with a close look at the 2014 profit sharing agreement.  I use this lens to examine Shell’s role in 	 72 regional decision-making.  Given the rich history of the North Slope area and American resource politics, this chapter addresses only those aspects of the region that are crucial to understanding Shell’s 2014 agreement and the governance processes surrounding it.  4.1 Petro-Nation: The North Slope and American Energy Dilemmas The North Slope of Alaska is at the forefront of a new phase of Arctic energy development: offshore oil.  The area is also United States’ toehold in the Arctic and already the site of some of the nation’s largest onshore domestic petroleum reserves (Figure 2).  The region’s Prudhoe Bay is one of the largest sources of the U.S. domestic oil supply.  It has been one of the largest sites of onshore petroleum production in North America, in terms of recoverable oil, since the late 1970s (Goldsmith, 2007).  A vast region above the Arctic Circle, the Slope sprawls 230,000 square kilometers, comprising about 15% of Alaska’s land area.  It hugs Alaska’s northern coast along the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas, which connect to the Arctic Ocean.  The seas are rich in marine life and have supported the whaling traditions of the local indigenous Inupiat Inuit for millennia. Shell Corporation, an Anglo-Dutch multinational, only recently abandoned a program of exploratory offshore drilling here in the summer of 2015, after almost 10 years of preparation.  Drilling was to occur on two offshore oil lease sites on the Outer Continental Shelf (OCS) in the Chukchi Sea, just off the coast of the North Slope.  Although it failed to come to fruition, Shell’s actions set the tone for future Arctic offshore development.  Other multinational resource corporations hold oil and gas leases in regional waters, and will look to Shell’s experience to guide their development.  	 73 Such opportunities place the North Slope and its nearby waters as ground zero for American energy politics and Arctic policy and the landing point for associated dilemmas and debates. Stakeholders in the North Slope, Alaska, and the United States have come to rely heavily on the region’s resources.  Oil wealth fuels these economies, but has created dependency dilemmas.  The unstable petroleum industry has delivered massive economic growth, but prospects for future growth from this source are unclear.  Alaska’s role in U.S. oil production has been dropping since 1985, as Prudhoe Bay production has decreased and other Alaska onshore oil sites remain unexploited, largely due to environmental concerns.  Arctic offshore oil has emerged as a panacea for a range of stakeholders, promoted as a way to prop up economies and continue growth, at least temporarily.  However it is a fraught issue.  Offshore oil and gas extraction presents serious environmental and cultural risks for the North Slope, where Inupiat Inuit comprise most of the population, and manage their own socio-economic, political, and cultural development.  The community holds conflicting views on how to manage local natural resources and economic development (DeMarban, 2014).  The North Slope is home to key institutional stakeholders involved in the offshore issue.  Some local stakeholders consider offshore development at odds with sustainable growth that ensures environmental protection and the health of local communities.  Some of the largest local institutions see opportunity in Shell’s offshore initiative.  However these are not fixed and firm positions.  Blurred and shifting boundaries and relationships among them make it difficult to trace interests and activities. Offshore development presents new challenges for an area already built on an unstable base of onshore oil and gas revenues.  Thanks to petroleum revenues, the North Slope has avoided much of the underdevelopment of many rural Alaskan enclaves by 	 74 harnessing property tax revenues on the onshore oil infrastructure in Prudhoe Bay.  However, the Borough appears to have become dependent on the oil industry for its economic development, without alternatives in sight.  Scholars have long cautioned that the “Inupiat people [have] become increasingly dependent on oil development and the cash economy and that their culture was undergoing rapid and uncertain change” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 2). Offshore oil is attractive to federal decision-makers as well.  As a national security goal, federal authorities seek new sources of domestic oil to diversify energy sources throughout the country and reduce American dependence on foreign oil.  Offshore development is heralded as an opportunity for the United States to ensure its energy supply and national security by exploiting domestic petroleum resources rather than from abroad, particularly the Middle East.  However, like the North Slope, the U.S. federal government is confronted with competing issues in navigating offshore oil development and its place in broader national policy.  Resource extraction often conflicts with federal and non-state efforts to protect the environmentally fragile region.  The state of Alaska, on the other hand, has long relied on petroleum as the basis for its economy, and has fewer political qualms about environmental protection. Given the political and practical complexities, Arctic offshore oil development occurs, as a set of policies and practices, in the absence of consistent national-level leadership and clarity in the broader policy areas at stake in its development.  It lands at the intersection of several policy areas.  I focus on three of them: economic development, energy policy, and national security in the Arctic. U.S. national policies where these three realms 	 75 intersect are piecemeal and incoherent, with the policy and decision-making vacuum occupied now by a number of stakeholders intent on shaping these spheres. Confusion stems also from lack of a single comprehensive national Arctic plan, unlike other Arctic nations like Canada and Russia.  The sheer number of stakeholders may forestall the articulation of a single comprehensive Arctic policy.  The most recent 2013 National Strategy for the Arctic Region, issued by the White House, is short and non-specific, referring only broadly to “interests” and “guiding principles” (Office of the President of the United States, 2013).  More than twenty federal agencies currently administer different aspects of Arctic activity. With little consensus on how to proceed, many stakeholders, rather than the federal government alone, shape Arctic policies and practices, including oil and gas development.  I use the case of Shell to argue that the private sector actors incrementally fill the federal decision-making vacuum in the Arctic.  As they advance their interests, they shape offshore oil development negotiations, and by extension, their role in regional governance.   4.2 History of Alaska and the North Slope Borough  Natural resources, economic development, and national security have always been interlinked in Alaska and the North Slope.  These issues have shaped decision-making in the offshore debate and influence relationships among North Slope institutions and state and federal authorities. In order to understand why the residents of the North Slope have more control over offshore development (compared to many other small communities), this section reviews key events in the history and recent development of Alaska and the North Slope. The 	 76 North Slope community’s strong history of asserting their rights shaped their approach to Shell’s offshore development. This section also focuses on the large federal role in these areas, although the influence of the private sector is increasingly apparent in the era of Alaskan oil, beginning in the 1960s.  The federal government has never had a single regional strategy, but managed diverse activities related to military interests during the Second World War and the Cold War.  These activities shaped fraught relationships between the federal government and native North Slope residents, who today characterize the federal government’s history in the region as one of “taking” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).8 This memory motivates their current involvement in decision-making. Indeed, the history of violent state intervention in the region, including ongoing processes of indigenous dispossession, strongly shapes the North Slope and the events discussed in this chapter. These processes also include the imposition of colonial structures onto the Inupiat population in the form of institutions such as the Borough and native corporations. As Marino (2015) notes, “[…] for Alaska Native peoples, the last one hundred years have been characterized by a history of outsiders imposing belief structures through powerful incentive programs, forced schooling, infrastructure development, economic giving and taking, and other mechanisms (p. 52).  Preston (2013) also argues, “settler colonialism functions through complex relationships between the state […] and private oil and gas companies. It reveals how racism and settler colonialism fundamentally structure contemporary social and economic life” (p. 43). Today, most of the North Slope region falls within the administrative purview of the Inupiat-run North Slope Borough, which was founded as a regional government by indigenous leaders in 1972.  The borough is the U.S.’s northernmost public municipality, and 																																																						8 All Parente interviews are anonymous, and names have been changed. 	 77 includes eight regional settlements.9 Alongside the borough structure is a parallel tribal government structure.  About 10,000 year-round residents live in the North Slope, which has diversified from entirely Inupiat to slightly over half Inupiat (U.S. Census Bureau, 2016).10 The Inupiat, a sub-group of Alaskan Native Inuit people, have lived along the North Slope for millennia; existing with little interaction with outsiders, save for isolated incidents with international explorers and later, U.S. government representatives.  They were organized in villages and traditional confederations, engaged in subsistence hunting and whaling.  They maintain these residential and lifeway patterns to a great extent today.  The Inupiat’s isolation was due in part to their remote homeland, but also, to the laissez faire attitude of the United States’ federal government towards the territory that is now Alaska.  First contact with Westerners occurred in the 1600s.  Purchased from Russia in 1867, the area was incorporated as an organized territory in 1912. Native residents were unrepresented in the territorial government.  They were largely ignored and no major programs supported their traditional subsistence life ways. American Indian law considered indigenous residents wards of the federal government.  Their only support was through federal public assistance and welfare programs operated through two federal agencies, the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA), and the Public Health Service of the Health, Education, and Welfare Department.  These agencies operated schools, boarding schools and hospitals throughout rural Alaska.  This situation continued through Alaska statehood in 1959. By all major indices of growth and development, the Native community was the least advantaged and most neglected population sector [in Alaska].  And, at the time of 																																																						9 Anaktuvuk Pass, Atqasuk, Barrow, Kaktovik, Nuiqsut, Point Hope, Point Lay, and Wainwright. 10 Fifty-four percent Inupiat, 34% white, 6% Asian, four percent Hispanic and one percent each Black and Pacific Islander.		 78 Alaska statehood, interests of the Native community were not represented in the political structures affecting them.  (McBeath & Morehouse, 1980, p. 16)  Historically, the United States federal government has extended sovereignty over the far reaches of its Northern territory through the demarcation of the territory, population management, military activity and extractive industry.  This is not unusual.  The circumpolar Arctic is a challenging environment, and has historically required the resources of strong national governments for development.  In Russia the powerful Soviet regime was able to actualize expensive and ambitious Arctic development (McCannon, 1998).  Compared to Russia’s sophisticated Arctic programming, American use of its northern territory has been limited and piecemeal.  Federal investment in resource sectors resulted in relatively small population centres and little infrastructure, compared to the Soviet Arctic (Conley, 2013, p. 1).  Military investments gave the federal government a strong initial imprint on the area, and shaped the state’s political and economic culture.  In the process, distrust deepened between Native Alaskans and the federal government.  Military priorities have also guided federal spending on scientific research and shaped economic development.  Alaska’s proximity to the Soviet Union made it central to America’s military strategy and missile defence program during World War II and the Cold War.  As Hummel (2005, p. 60) notes, “Alaska’s movement to statehood was conditional upon deference to defense interests.”  In the North Slope, with most other agents from outside the region, science, linked with military and geostrategic priorities, were an important rationale for state intervention.  During the World Wars and the Cold War this took the form of weapons testing, and more recently national security and environmental protection.  As a result, apparently benign “science” has become politically charged in the region.  The United States military and the Atomic Energy 	 79 Commission (AEC) used Alaska and the North Slope for nuclear and conventional weapons testing for decades.11 Such projects sowed distrust between Alaska Natives and the federal government that endures today. After World War II, U.S involvement in the North Slope began to shift to environmental matters, which often worsened relations between the federal government and indigenous communities.  A 1977 moratorium on whaling in the North Slope, aimed at protecting Bowhead whales, was a landmark decision.  It remains in force as an important piece of international law in the area.  It has become a cautionary tale and rallying point for tribal organizations concerned about federal intervention.  The moratorium was put in place by the International Whaling Commission (IWC), but supported by the U.S. government.  This event galvanized local activism and the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) was formed, and still exists today.12 AEWC declares that it “was formed to represent the whaling communities in an effort to convince the United States Government to take action to preserve the Eskimo’s subsistence hunt of bowhead whales” (Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission, 2017).   The purpose of the AEWC is, in part, “to ensure that the hunting [of bowhead whales] is conducted in a traditional, non wasteful manner […] (NOAA, 2008, p. 7).  The AEWC also “agreed to cooperate with the U.S. in scientific research efforts and to 																																																						11 For example, the AEC established its infamous Plowshare Program, which was designed to find peaceful uses for nuclear explosives.  As part of the broader program, “Project Chariot” unfolded in part on the North Slope.  Government activity included experiments with radioactive materials, and cleanup was still going on as of 2014 (Vandegraft, 1993). 12 The AEWC website ‘About Us’ page describes the origin of the organization: “In August 1977, the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) was formed to represent the whaling communities in an effort to convince the United States Government to take action to preserve the Eskimos subsistence hunt of bowhead whales. The United States Government did not object to the ban but did agree to raise the issue at a special meeting of the IWC that was held in December 1977.  At the meeting, the United States Government promised to undertake a major research effort to provide a better estimate of both the size of the stock and how many animals were added to the stock each year, known as the “gross annual recruitment rate.”  The United States scientific research efforts developed a management plan to be followed by all the whalers to help improve the efficiency of the subsistence hunt.  The AEWC also decided to undertake efforts to educate the outside world about the importance of the bowhead whale to their way of life.“ (Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission, 2017)   	 80 develop a management plan to be followed by all bowhead whale subsistence hunters to help improve the efficiency of the subsistence hunt” (NOAA, 2008, p. 7). The discovery of massive oil reserves at Prudhoe Bay during the 1960s changed national energy policy and the political economies of Alaska, the North Slope, and the nation.  Ever since, the North Slope has been the site of extensive onshore and offshore oil and gas exploration and exploitation.  In 1968, ARCO Oil Company confirmed the presence of what was to become the largest oil field in North America (Goldsmith, 2007).  The discovery was momentous, and its timing just before the national 1973 “oil crisis” made it even more fortuitous.  Prudhoe Bay oil helped reverse a decline in U.S. crude oil production in the 1970s (McDowell Group, 2014, p. 8).  At its peak production in the late 1980s, the field accounted for more than 20% of the nation’s total domestic oil supply (Crow 1995). Since then, however, production has fallen sharply, although the value of the field had until recently been buoyed by high oil prices per barrel. Prudhoe Bay occasioned the first sustained and long-term engagement among oil and gas companies, the Alaskan and federal governments, and Native residents in the North Slope.  Oil production was slated to begin in 1977, upon the completion of the congressionally approved Trans-Alaska Pipeline System (TAPS).  The 800-mile-long pipeline would carry oil west, to Alaska’s west coast port of Valdez.13 The pipeline would cross federal lands and areas of unresolved land claims.  The U.S. Secretary of the Interior ordered the congressional resolution of aboriginal title before land could be leased to the oil companies and oil extracted and shipped (Blair, Lovecraft, & Kofinas, 2014). U.S. courts had long recognized Native land rights, which had never been extinguished. 																																																						13	The pipeline spanned lands besides the North Slope, but this section focuses on the activities of North Slope Native groups, which were sometimes independent of other native organizations’. 	 81 Alaskan Native corporations were created in 1971, when Congress passed the Arctic Claims Native Settlement Act (ANCSA).  The Act settled the land and financial claims made by Alaska Natives and it created 13 regional Native corporations to administer the claims.14 Congress established private corporations in lieu of establishing reservations.  The Act provided for aboriginal land title to 44 million acres (178,062 km²) and approximately US$1 billion, to be managed by 13 for-profit Alaska Native regional corporations.  The corporations received a “double mandate to make a profit, and preserve culture” (Reiss, 2012, pp. 103–104).  ANCSA also established about 200 corporations throughout Alaska at the village and group level, all wholly owned by Inupiat shareholders. “Congress wanted the corporations to use the land and capital to produce a continuing source of income for their Native shareholders” (Kruse, 1991, p. 8). In the North Slope, the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC) represented the North Slope region as a whole.15 In 1972, the newly established ASRC received five million acres (20,234 km²), selected by ASRC leaders themselves.  Some of this land falls in today’s ANWR and NPR-A areas.  The eight North Slope villages each established village corporations, which are less powerful than regional corporations. Besides creating Native corporations, the ANCSA process had other key socio-political ramifications for the future of North Slope regional development and debates around offshore development.  First, ANCSA fundamentally changed the economic structure of the 																																																						14 U.S. Tax Code, Title 43, Chapter 33,  § 1606, Regional Corporations, [section] (d). It is available via Cornell University Law School law database, ‘Legal Information Institute’:	15 The ASRC website states, “ASRC is a private, for-profit corporation that is owned by and represents the business interests of its 12,000 Iñupiat Eskimo shareholders in the villages of Point Hope, Point Lay, Wainwright, Atqasuk, Barrow, Nuiqsut, Kaktovik, and Anaktuvuk Pass. Some of the corporation’s shareholders live outside of the region in Alaska, with a small number residing in the Lower 48.”	 	 82 Inupiat.  ASRC argues that the federal government imposed a “western corporate model” to administer land assets and provide benefits to “shareholders” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  Scholars note that ANCSA “converted communal aboriginal land claims into private property rights through shares of native corporation stock” (Case & Voluck, 2002; Dayo & Kofinas, 2010). Second, business relationships between the oil companies and Native corporations, especially the ASRC, began at this time.  These economic relationships slowly developed into political relationships.  The burgeoning resource industry partnered with local Native tradesmen for construction and other work.  These workers were also ASRC board members.  The partnerships later broadened into contracting opportunities and oil field support operations, which today form the basis of the native corporation enterprise activity (Reiss 2012, pp. 103–104). Third, the ANCSA process birthed an indigenous movement to establish the North Slope Borough as a political entity through which indigenous residents could advance their economic and political interests.  Leaders “opposed the ANCSA settlement because they opposed oil development for environmental reasons, and believed ANCSA did not transfer sufficient land on the North Slope [and its attendant natural resources] to the Inupiat” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 3).  During the ANCSA process, some Inupiat leaders began to organize themselves to pursue land claims with the federal government, forming the Arctic Slope Native Association (ASNA) in 1966. The borough form of government was selected specifically by ASNA in 1972 to gain control of development in order to support indigenous traditions.  Legally, it allowed them to levy property taxes on the highly valued onshore oil and gas infrastructure at Prudhoe Bay.  	 83 It also provided the municipality broad regulatory powers under state law (Kruse, 1991, p. 8). “Inupiat leaders attempted to form a borough in order to capture the substantial resource wealth stemming from Prudhoe Bay oil development for local use and help protect their subsistence resource environment” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 2).  Prior to oil development, the eight Inupiat villages of the North Slope were among the poorest communities in Alaska.  Because borough property taxes would be obtained from multi-billion-dollar oil production and transport facilities, it would yield significant income.  The establishment of the borough emerged from the convergence of two factors: Alaskan law, which provides for regional forms of government with broad powers of taxation; and second, an organized Native leadership, which gained experience during earlier activism opposing unilateral state-led oil development on the North Slope (Kruse, 1991, p. 15).  Former North Slope Borough Mayor Edward Itta described it as not only a political victory, but also as an economic coup.   We adapted to the discovery of oil in our traditional homeland by forming the North Slope Borough.  Our borough has offered local residents a chance to help manage our lands and participate in the benefits of the oil boom.  Through the borough, we have been able to enjoy the advantages of the modern world at the same time as we protect the subsistence values we hold dear.  (Bauman, 2007)  The establishment of the borough also began to set the tone for relations with government and oil companies, who initially resisted the incorporation of a local government, which could tax North Slope oilfield property, and was outside their control.  Alaska owns the land and leases the area to oil companies.  It did not want the municipality to have exclusive powers of local property taxation over such a rich property (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 4).  The Alaska government claimed that Prudhoe Bay was a statewide resource and the state government should collect tax revenues for the benefit of all Alaskans.  	 84 The state did not explicitly oppose the borough incorporation, but attempted to remove the incentive for incorporation by limiting local taxing powers and other measures (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, pp. 3–4).  Oil companies also twice challenged the North Slope Borough in court, once immediately following its incorporation in 1972, and a few years later about the extent of its property tax powers.  Both challenges failed. The borough continued to develop as a sophisticated political and economic actor throughout the 1970s.  It became a strong counterweight to state and federal intervention in the region.  It broadened its regulatory powers through negotiations and compromises with other government agencies (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 10).  The municipal government claimed decision-making authority in a range of policy areas, although state, national, and international regulatory bodies continued to resist its claims (Morehouse, McBeath, & Leask, 1984, pp. 151–155).  It also took over several management areas that were formerly the province of superior government authorities, including renewable and non-renewable natural resources management, hunting regulation, and some aspects of the development of onshore and offshore petroleum resources (Chance, 1990, pp. 175–178). By managing its own economic development, the borough government significantly lifted the standard of living in the North Slope.  It used oil tax monies for a massive capital improvement effort that continues today.  It built schools, utilities, and community centres, and brought public health, education, and other programs and amenities to North Slope villages.  It would “become a billion dollar capital construction program, financed primarily through bonds secured by the oilfield property tax base” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 4).   	 85 4.3 Current Political Economy: The North Slope and Alaska This section sketches petroleum’s growing role in shaping the political economy in the North Slope and Alaska.  It also develops the relationships among state, regional, and national actors and the private sector-led interests of the Alaskan petroleum industry.  This section sets the context for the latter half of the chapter, which examines how Shell leveraged the unstable petroleum-dependent state and local economies, as well as multi-stakeholder dynamics to advance its offshore project.  4.3.1 The political economy of Alaska Scholars often depict Alaska’s economic structure as a three-legged stool.  State income is derived from federal spending, petroleum, and other resource revenues, although not equally.  Petroleum dominates, accounting for $24.5 billion of the 2010 state budget. “Clearly, the relationship between the state and oil industry has been, and remains, at the center of Alaska’s political economy. …  The state is dependent on oil” (McBeath, Berman, Rosenberg, & Ehrlander, 2008, p. 2). Federal spending in Alaska was estimated at about $11 billion in that year, while other resources accounted for just under $9 billion.  Federal activity in Alaska has left a marked legacy in the form of generous funding as well as a distinctive and ironic political culture, sympathetic to business and national defence, with a “small government” populist bent.  In 2003, Alaska received more per capita federal spending that any other U.S. state, led by defence spending.  Scholars estimate that about one third of the entire state economy is powered by federal spending (Goldsmith & Larson, 2003).  The role of the private sector continues to grow in the state economy.  Federal spending for example, is increasingly supplemented by private sector support.  Hummel (2005, p. 68) notes, “the military is finding 	 86 new, post-cold war ways to continue its presence in Alaska, at the behest of Ted Stevens [former longstanding state governor] and with the support of a largely dependent business community.” Alaska is still considered geopolitically strategic by the federal government, and its funding choices reflect these priorities.  Alaska is the U.S. entrée into circumpolar affairs and natural resources; it connects the US to the Northern Sea Route and other trade opportunities, and is proximate to Russia.  Indeed, the United States limits its activity in Alaska and its waters to the often overlapping spheres of the military, science and the environment, natural resource development, and social welfare.  Its activities in these policy areas include funding programs and infrastructure, establishing and enforcing regulations and establishing policies and programs. Over the last 50 years, Alaska has prospered as the value of oil has increased.16 Alaska depends on oil revenues to such a degree that it does not collect state income tax, but rather pays residents out of a public fund financed by petroleum revenues.  There is no state sales tax, and only a light state tax burden for most businesses.  Petroleum-related products account for more than 85% of state income (Knapp, 2012, p. 37).  State spending has increased along with oil prices and revenues, and public spending per resident is double the 																																																						16 In interviews, borough managers explained how Alaska collects revenue from the oil industry in several ways.  If the state owns the land where oil is developed, it also owns subsurface resources.  Companies bid for the right to drill and pay the state for a lease (like the federal offshore process) (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  Alaska collects royalties based on Prudhoe Bay production (a percentage of what oil companies produce), as well as taxes on a portion of the pipeline infrastructure, which means the state is much more sensitive to volatile oil prices than the borough, which collects property taxes on the Prudhoe Bay infrastructure, and on about 1/3 of TAPS infrastructure (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  Alaska prefers royalties to lease monies, which have a fixed value (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  The state Assessor sets tax rates by its valuation of the Prudhoe Bay, TAPS, and other oil infrastructure that is taxed by the borough and the state.  Finally Alaska is also a partner of the pipeline with oil companies, and shares transport royalties (Brown, personal communication, 2015). 	 87 U.S. average (Knapp, 2012, p. 55).17 Alaska also benefits indirectly from the petroleum industry through employment and wages.  State residents generally earn higher average income than in other states, usually servicing the oil industry and its offshoots in some way. Economists, however, predict dwindling oil revenues and less federal spending in Alaska, anticipating a decline in federal grants to remote rural Alaska in particular (Goldsmith, 2007, p. 47).  The state legislature has already taken some measures to cushion the state from sudden economic collapse, although even these efforts also rely on oil revenues.  The State General Fund holds oil revenues, which are invested until they are spent on government services and programs or placed in reserve.  Therefore the wealth is not only spent on short-term government operations, but also on longer-term loan funds and investments.  Much of the oil earnings are reinvested in various public savings accounts, including the Constitutional Budget Reserve, the Statutory Budget Reserve (established in 1990), and the state Permanent Fund, which distributes an annual dividend to all Alaskans.  The Permanent fund can be compared favorably to Alberta’s oil legacy program, but is inferior to Norway’s well-executed program (Widerquist & Howard, 2012, p. 75). However a reliance on a single, unstable industry threatens the Alaskan economy.  The 2015 downturn in oil prices has caused the state a multi-billion-dollar fiscal shortfall that has sparked panic among lawmakers and a deeply divided Alaskan public. Proposed remedies are unpopular and include an end to the state dividend program, steep tax hikes, or harsh state budget cuts (Associated Press, June 2016). These events highlight the uncertainty of reliance on this single industry. 																																																						17 Since oil production began in 1977, the state has collected $170 billion in oil revenues (in today’s dollars) (Goldsmith, 2012). 	 88 Economists recommend state and borough seek new economic bases that generate multiplier effects, away from oil and gas.18 Economic diversification is constantly debated in Alaskan political and academic circles.  State (and borough) income depends not only on output levels, but the price of oil.  Given the volatility of oil prices, and because little conventional oil remains on state-owned land, Alaska must develop new sources of revenue.  North Slope oil production has declined since 1988, including at the huge Prudhoe Bay field.  This represents a looming revenue shortage for the North Slope and for the state that needs to be addressed.  During the 2000s, Alaska was lucky.  Oil production decreased, but the state made up the difference through high global oil prices and a restructured production tax (Goldsmith, 2012, p. 3). However, alternatives to petroleum are usually politically unpopular in the state legislature, and include diversifying natural resource development (especially natural gas), value-added processing, and renewable energy.  These suggestions also face practical constraints.  Experts caution that a gas pipeline will not save the economy, as the market value of gas is much lower than that of oil.  This development falls under the federal purview and is less politically ideal for state decision makers, as they will have less control over its exploitation. Despite advice from economists, Alaska has doubled down on petroleum, including offshore projects, in part because legally, the state can benefit more directly from petroleum than other sources of energy.  Leaders in the Republican-led legislature promote Alaskan offshore oil as the way to staunch falling onshore petroleum revenues including offshore 																																																						18 Economists add some important caveats to this discussion, noting difficulties in quantifying the impact of the oil industry on Alaska’s economy, and that it is perhaps, overestimated.  Indeed some even caution that there is no single economy in Alaska, and note that other economic sectors (like services) contribute as much to the economy as oil, depending on the economic measures used.  They note the ongoing importance of state and federal spending in the Alaskan economy as well (Knapp, 2014).  	 89 development.  The state places many political resources into expanding offshore oil drilling to shore up its economy, encouraged by powerful industry organizations that lobby for oil and gas development, such as the influential Resource Development Council for Alaska, Inc.  As we will see later, Shell adopts many of the state arguments in its promotions. 4.3.2 The North Slope Borough political economy and relationships I turn now to an overview of the North Slope’s political economy and its public and private sector stakeholders.  This section provides the current local context for Shell’s offshore oil proposal and profit sharing agreement negotiations.  I focus on the dynamics among key institutional players: the North Slope borough government, Native corporations, village governments, and tribal organizations and governments. Like the Alaskan government, the borough’s $350 million annual budget relies almost entirely on oil industry taxes, even though the “development of a self-supporting economic base has always been a stated goal of the North Slope Borough” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, 8).  The North Slope only captures a portion of the benefits of regional oil production, and several local institutions aim for more (Goldsmith, 2007, p. 8).  Institutions aimed at such growth include the borough government and most private sector Native corporations, particularly ASRC.  Tribal governments and organizations are more ambivalent towards expanded petroleum development, reflecting a similar ambivalence in popular sentiment.  They govern more informally, in parallel to the borough.  They are recognized by the federal government, but hold little economic power, and less political suasion among colonial or economic political institutions outside the remote villages of the North Slope. Barrow is the seat of the North Slope borough government’s political and administrative apparatus, where regional power has centralized (Brown, personal 	 90 communication, 2015).  From Barrow the borough government administers all eight villages scatted over a vast geographic space of the North Slope.  Barrow is the largest and most demographically diverse of the villages; the others remain largely Inupiat.  It represents about 60% of the borough’s entire population, and sprawls in several directions.  Even in spring, snow blankets the town, and strong winds sweep over roads and between low-slung houses and buildings.  The snow makes it difficult to see where land ends and the frozen ocean begins.  The North Slope’s oil-derived public spending is immediately obvious.  Brand new municipal buildings stand on stilts alongside less grandiose housing, although residents say that this contrast is deceptive, and that many homes have been privately renovated (figures 3 and 4).  I am told there are no paved roads under the snow, because the city rests on permafrost, permanently frozen ground that buckles paving as the temperature fluctuates.  Oil-based prosperity is evident in town.  Cars, large trucks, and snowmobiles proliferate.  To escape the cold, taxis are regularly used even to go short distances.  The people walking by appear to be mostly indigenous, often wearing traditional fur lined coats. The North Slope region’s political economy highlights the close relationships between public and private sectors, and the appeal of new sources of revenue from offshore development. 19 The region has a mixed economy based on income sources from wages, subsistence, and government transfers.  Mixed economies are common in rural, Native communities in the Arctic.  The wage economy and government transfers belong to the 																																																						19 I distinguish between the North Slope Borough and its budget, and the broader North Slope economy, which includes the Native corporations, and oil industry. 	 91 formal economy, and are reflected in the official borough budget.  Subsistence activities are difficult to quantify and are not reflected in budgets.20 Oil revenues, through property taxes and royalties, provide almost the entire borough budget, and fund most municipal operations and capital investment (Kruse, 1991, p. 9).  Almost 99% of the borough’s tax revenues are property tax revenues from Prudhoe Bay, according to administrators (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  These oil tax revenues have amounted to billions of dollars.21 Between 1996 and 2006 alone, they totaled $224.8 million (DOLWD, 2007 as cited in Kruse, 2010, p. 71).  Dollar amounts rose consistently since at least 2007, and in 2013, North Slope oil and gas property tax revenues amounted to $348 million (McDowell Group, 2014, p. 42). The borough can better supplement federal funding than other places in Alaska (Burns, personal communication, 2015).  In contrast to the North Slope, most Alaskan settlements rely on direct and indirect state support (Goldsmith, 2007).  The economy’s reliance on private rather than public money is unusual in remote rural Alaska.  Borough tax revenues derived from the oil and gas industry dwarf revenue from intergovernmental transfers, and are on par with interest income from bond sales, according to the borough’s annual municipal budget (NSB, 2013).  Indeed, reliance on public sources is not unusual in other parts of the circumpolar Arctic, where remote communities face a harsh environment, low population density, limited infrastructure, and distance from markets, which limit market-based competitive investment and employment opportunities (Knapp & Huskey, 																																																						20 Subsistence activities remain however, an important part of the livelihood of many Native residents.  Subsistence is an important cultural practice and an essential source of food in remote villages where food for purchase is expensive (Willie, personal communication, 2015). 21 The NSB also taxes the Kuparuk development. 	 92 1988).  In these rural areas, federal spending drove economic growth in recent years (Goldsmith, 2007). The borough has been fiscally stable until only recently, with an increasing tax base, as the taxable value of the borough’s portion of TAPS has increased annually (interview with Villa 2015).  Two local public funds reflect this stability: the capital investment fund (CIP), valued annually between $60 and $120 million, and the North Slope Borough Permanent Fund, an investment fund to be tapped when oil revenues dry up (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  McBeath notes that the Permanent Fund, established in 1984, “contributes to fiscal and therefore, governmental stability” (McBeath, 2010, p. 97). The impact on the borough if oil revenues continue to fall was hinted at in 1988, when the municipal budget became unbalanced, as oil production fell in Prudhoe Bay, and again in 1999, when property tax revenue fell for the first time.  The borough struggled to pay for its large ongoing expenditures—principally its large municipal apparatus and social welfare programs.  It became difficult to pay the increasing interest payments on bonded debt.  Bonds help finance welfare and infrastructure programs (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  The borough redeveloped its budget, consolidated services, and privatized some government services (mostly in Barrow) (McBeath, 2010, p. 97).       	 93            Figure 3.  New municipal building and service vehicles in Barrow, NSB.  March 2015. (G Parente).                           	 94                         Figure 4.  Residential street in Barrow, NSB.  Housing stock is limited.  March 2015. (G Parente).   According to senior officials, the borough government exercises its decision-making authority in local spending, funding a range of basic municipal operations through its municipal departments (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  These include planning and community services, housing and public works, health and social services, environmental protection, police, fire and search and rescue, and industrial development (Kruse, 2010, pp. 71–72) (Figure 5).  Regional capital investment projects include helping to finance the Barrow airport, and financing the longstanding municipal Capital Improvements Program (CIP) (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  The CIP was established by the North Slope Borough in the 1970s, and cost over $1 billion by 2001 (McBeath, 2010, p. 97). The borough’s wealth allows it to subsidize many public services, including plumbing, home heating, and winter road clearance (Reiss, 2012, p. 8).  It is the only borough 	 95 in Alaska that subsidizes a centralized water and sewer system and energy sources for residential use, such as heating fuel.  Barrow uses local natural gas, delivered by a non-profit, Barrow Utilities and Electric Cooperative, Inc. (BUECI) (Figure 6).  Energy costs are much lower than other rural communities in the state.  This is a valuable service, as the cost of living is high in the North Slope, about 50% higher in Barrow than Anchorage.           Figure 5.  NSB Health and Social Services Department in Barrow, NSB. (G. Parente)                   	 96                         Figure 6.  Locally sourced gas for Barrow households, NSB.  March 2015. (G. Parente)  I turn now to the role of the state and federal government, and private sector spending in the region’s economy.  Most direct, dedicated grants in the North Slope come from the state and federal governments, and not the private sector, although there are some exceptions (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  Grants are “restricted funding,” that is, only for the project designated by corporations, state or federal governments (meaning the funds are for their priorities, not the borough’s) (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  Industry gives grants to ASNA, so the organization can buy equipment and supplies.  The companies do it to “be a responsible citizen in the borough,” and want promotional credit for their purchases (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  Another exception is Shell’s ongoing grant to the North Slope Borough for research on the impact of offshore drilling.  A borough scientist explained Shell’s grant to the Department of Wildlife Management (DWM) in 2010, during the company’s regional outreach program around offshore drilling, worth about $10–15 	 97 million (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  Employment is another indirect benefit of the oil industry.  Few residents are employed directly by the oil industry, state or federal government.  The biggest employers are the North Slope Borough itself and Native corporations—all entities funded by oil revenues (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  The borough government has the largest local government staff in Alaska outside Anchorage.  Its administrative structure and ongoing programming and operations are funded from oil revenues.  Native corporations also work in oilfield support services and employ many local residents. The borough government has parlayed its economic autonomy to extend its political reach beyond that of a typical municipality.  It has wrested local management authority from several commissions and departments that were formally managed at the state or regional levels, including the NSB Fish and Game Advisory Committee.  According to the borough website, this Committee works with the other borough agencies and state and federal agency representatives to “initiate dialog” and “assist in local coordination of wildlife studies” conducted by these various organizations (FGM, 2016). The local Department of Wildlife Management (DWM), normally a state or federal department is also financed and managed by the borough.  The borough can influence local environmental issues and resource development activities, including offshore.  It is also involved in international Arctic affairs, through its financing of and participation in the international Inuit Circumpolar Council–Alaska (ICC-AK), a non-profit corporation (ICC-AK, 2016a).  The ASRC also has members on the ICC-AK board of directors (ICC-AK, 2016b). State and federal public funding play an important, although much smaller role in the local economy compared to oil, and are limited to certain policy realms.  The borough and 	 98 ASNA lobby with the state and federal governments for public benefits and social programs mostly in the form of government transfers (Burns, personal communication, 2015; Brown, personal communication, 2015).  Federal funding for social programs remains important because despite making great economic strides, 11% of the North Slope population still lived below the poverty line in 2012.22 Economists argue that such transfers do not solve the problem of single-industry dependency, fail to stimulate economic development and may discourage real economic investment (Knapp, 2012, p. 74). In terms of social welfare provision, however, the borough, and Native corporations have relieved federal authorities of much of their responsibilities.  Federal authorities provide fewer social benefits to the wealthy North Slope compared to the rest of Alaska.  The federal government has spun off some of its direct welfare responsibilities to state and local nonprofits and especially to Native corporations, which it established for that very purpose in the 1970s.  It still provides the social service transfers discussed previously, and funds some long-term programs through local non-profits, such as tribal health funding through ASNA.  Other programs and grants are aimed especially at Native populations.  A glance at the Native Village of Barrow’s 2010 newsletters shows diverse grants and contracts from a range of government sources, including the North Slope Borough Health Department, as well as the Federal Bureau of Indian Affairs Housing Improvement and Indian Housing Block Grant, and grants from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) Indian General Assistance Program (IGAP), for some local hires.23 These impressive accomplishments of the borough’s administrative apparatus have come at the expense of political equity and cooperation in the North Slope. We will see these 																																																						22 23 	 99 rifts deepen in the offshore debate.  Although the municipal government in Barrow was established to increase autonomy at the regional and village levels, leaders have concentrated policymaking and administration at the Barrow headquarters.  A local resident’s barbed comment is revealing, “Not North Slope Borough—but North Slope Barrow” (McBeath, 2010).  A Borough Assembly member interviewee clarified what went on behind the scenes.  He noted that within the government structure itself, administrative and decision-making powers have been concentrated even further in the office of the mayor.  Therefore, although the Assembly holds the purse strings for the borough, “the Mayor and advisors control the Assembly agenda, and has a big say over what gets financed” (Smith, personal communication, 2015).  The North Slope Borough manages the regional budget and comprehensive plan, which includes the region’s eight villages.  Each village has its own local governance structure and is represented on the Borough Assembly.  Interviewees, however, note that in practice villages have ceded most of their political and economic autonomy to the borough administration, which has taken over most village functions, including funding the much sought-after capital improvement projects (Snow, personal communication, 2015).  The borough has come to control the revenue for village economic development including most facilities and public services.  Scholars note the disadvantages, “The consequence of centralizing power in Borough headquarters was to make the villages into organizational appendages of the Borough, and to turn Borough citizens into clients and consumers” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 18). Village institutions are politically and economically dependent on decisions made by the municipality in Barrow, although villages are in principle run by governments and 	 100 traditional councils in the federally recognized Indian Reorganization Act (IRA).  These organizations are weakened by the borough’s political and fiscal centralization.  Each village also has a corporation established by ANCSA, although as we have seen, their powers are limited.  In the 1970s and 80’s villages were persuaded to transfer almost all of their local government functions, including taxing authority, to the North Slope Borough by the then-mayor.  This was rationalized as a way to strengthen the borough’s negotiating capacity with external interests, and for the large-scale economic development projects in the 1970s. “The concentration of Borough decision-making facilitated the high-stakes deals necessary to finance and carry out [the] huge capital construction program” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, pp. 17–18). In interviews, village residents describe how the villages outside Barrow have protested the growing concentration of borough power.  This has resulted in some accommodation by the government, and now villages are represented on the Borough Assembly, school board and planning commission; there is also a borough liaison office in each village.  Villages lobby to borough (through government-to-government negotiations) to obtain facilities like water and sewers enjoyed in Barrow (Willie, personal communication, 2015).  Villages remain at a disadvantage, however.  The Assembly nominally represents all North Slope villages, but at-large elections regularly give most seats to Barrow residents.  Village power is also curtailed, as some villages must share seats on the assembly, further weakening their representation (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Later, I will expand further how Shell leverages the cooperation between the municipal government and Native corporations (chiefly ASRC).  These institutions generally agree on questions of oil and gas development, both from the blurred institutional 	 101 boundaries, and because they share an economic interest in continued oil development.  However, the relationships between the North Slope Borough and Native corporations are complicated.  Scholars note as well that political power can also consolidate if the mayor or Assembly members have close ties to the ASRC (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 16).  The borough and Native corporations cooperate regularly on many quotidian issues that suggest mutual benefits for revolving-door directors.  A senior manager admitted that the borough government regularly provides business opportunities to Native corporations. As one interviewee at the borough described it, the municipal government “throws business the way of the Native corporations,” largely through local infrastructure programs, that “props them up artificially” because there is no competition for bids (Villa, personal communication, 2015). In interviews, some senior borough bureaucrats and native corporation representatives claim local actors work well together, and describe their relations as consensus-based decision-making (Begaye, personal communication, 2015; Smith, personal communication, 2015).  They appeared somewhat resigned to areas where they differ.  Others disagree.  For example, several interviewees noted the overlapping loyalties in the case of UIC, Barrow’s large native corporation, suggesting that the borough government would not challenge UIC’s problematic control of Barrow’s housing market because that would anger shareholders, who are also voters and residents (Begaye, personal communication, 2015; Villa, personal communication, 2015).  Further, small village corporations may feel excluded from decision-making among the borough, ASRC, and UIC, which is more powerful by virtue of the fact that it is the largest of the village corporations and centrally located in Barrow (Willie, personal communication, 2015). 	 102  4.3.3 North Slope relationships: Local, state, and federal This discussion of the political economy of the North Slope, which ends with a discussion of the centralization and accretion of power lodged in certain institutions and unevenly across the Slope, leads us to a more detailed discussion of the North Slope region’s stakeholder dynamics.  The dynamics in the tangled debates around onshore development also extend to the offshore debate, discussed later in the chapter.  The borough government, Native corporations, and popular opinion in Barrow tend to support a petroleum-based economy.  Tribal governments, organizations, and village popular opinion represent a strong and vocal minority that opposes offshore oil (and most other such development).  However regional institutional opinion remains divided and shifting, in part because the memberships of these organizations overlap heavily.  Individuals within these organizations hold differing opinions, and opinions diverge within organization leadership, and among residents. The Inupiat Community of the Arctic Slope (ICAS) and The Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) are two powerful stakeholders in the North Slope, who view their primary goals as protecting traditional subsistence lifestyles and tribal sovereignty.  They often are at odds with the borough government and Native corporations on questions of development.  According to its website, ICAS is the regional tribal government for all North Slope Borough villages representing 6300 enrolled members of the Inupiat Eskimo.  It is the federally recognized government, located in Barrow.  The Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) is a non-profit corporation “with influence on local, regional, national, and international policies that affect bowhead whales and subsistence uses of whales” (NSB CP, 2005, pp. 3–76).  AEWC is made up of whaling captains from 11 coastal subsistence-	 103 whaling villages.  Whaling captains are highly respected members of the community, often from “old families,” and have significant moral (and political) sway in the community.  As an example of the fluidity among institutions, many AEWC members for example, are in other organizations (such as Native corporations) that would benefit from offshore development and support it. Alongside these public and tribal institutions, private, for-profit Alaska Native corporations (ANCs), established through ANCSA, have emerged as important actors in the region’s economic and political landscape.  Although tribal governments and organizations generally oppose outside oil interests, Native corporations seek to exert control within the framework of their economic reliance on the oil industry, which they share with the borough.  The Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC) represents the entire North Slope region, and each village also has its own corporation.  Native corporations represent the “business interests” of their Inupiat shareholder owners who often belong to both village and regional corporations (Brown, personal communication, 2015). Although ostensibly private sector actors, Native corporations are perhaps best understood as semi-public organizations. Boundaries are blurred between Native corporations and the tribal and public institutions in the North Slope.  Leadership in these institutions often overlap significantly.  Individuals often serve in a decision-making capacity in both corporations and public positions, sometimes simultaneously.  Although not formally part of the borough government, in an interview, a senior manager at ASRC told me his organization serves both public and private functions (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  This view is supported by scholars: Alaska Native corporations are, in my view, quasi-public organizations due to their dual function as economic engine [private] and social service 	 104 agency (mostly in the sense of policy and cultural advocacy).  ANC’s thus present some interesting correlations to conflicts of ethnic and other values resolutions within a public organization (Cheney, 2014, pp. 39–40).   The corporate profits of Native corporations stem from their land ownership and associated rights as private landowners.  Regional corporations such as ASRC own the subsurface mineral rights to lands they were granted during the ANCSA process (Berman, 2006, p. 1).  In fact they own the subsurface rights of both their own land selections and of those of the village corporations.  Village corporations only own the surface rights to the lands they selected.  Subsurface rights mean regional corporations can benefit from potentially lucrative oil, gas, and mineral rights in those areas unless, as in areas like ANWR, state and federal authorities forbid resource exploitation. Native corporations have also developed subsidiary businesses through their relationships with oil and gas companies forged in the early days of Prudhoe Bay development.  Their presence in oil field operations has solidified over time and through their status as 8-A organizations, a designation that gives them access to federal preferential hiring for minority-run businesses.  ASRC, for example, has developed a long-term relationship with Halliburton Corporation, and has become the sole source for Halliburton’s set-asides globally (Brown, personal communication, 2015). American 8-A organizations have increasingly come under fire at the federal level for corruption and other questionable business practices.  Native corporations also benefit from a similar state-level preferential hiring policy set by Senator Ted Stevens, which provides a two percent set-aside for any project contracted to native-owned entities (Brown, personal communication, 2015). Native entities provide many of the auxiliary operations for oil field production, such as building roads, catering, and providing other services (Davis, personal communication, 	 105 2015).  They pay annual shareholder dividends from their business profits.  The dividends of ASRC in particular, are substantial.  Native corporations also provide much of the local infrastructure development in the North Slope, and they are important sources of waged private sector employment in the region.  According to the North Slope Borough’s Comprehensive Plan Background Report, “interest is high in creating more private sector jobs for local residents.”  It notes that, “Regional and village corporations are creating some jobs through subsidiaries and joint revenues, and some companies involved in resource development are attempting to increase local employment …  However, job requirements can create conflicts with subsistence activities …  Addressing these challenges will require cooperative education and training efforts on the part of the Borough … ANCSA corporations, tribal organizations, and resource development industry” (NSB CP, 2005, pp. 3-64–66).  Native corporations stimulate local enterprise and provide many of the local benefits normally provided by state or federal government in remote Alaskan villages.  Indeed this was Congress’s intention in creating them.  Often these corporations establish positive working relationships with the federal government.  One village corporation, for example, has initiated an ongoing project wherein the organization reappropriates old federal DEW line infrastructure and uses it in their business model.  They purchase infrastructure from the government and market it to the oil industry.  It was the corporation itself that approached a federal agency to initiate this project (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Native corporations develop businesses to gain more control over regional economic activity, as well as increase their value for shareholders.  Indeed ASRC views strengthening local control over North Slope regional development as a key part of its corporate mission.  The history of the North Slope informs their corporate philosophy and business model.  An ASRC spokesperson emphasizes their organizational goal of having a meaningful “seat at the 	 106 table” for decision-making.  She implicitly referred to the company as a representative for the region, linking ASRC to the interests of all Inupiat residents by asserting that by ASRC having meaningful input, they would strengthen local self-determination on behalf of all Inupiat residents, by ensuring local residents were no longer merely a party to unending “consulting” with outside entities.  ASRC notes the history of federal “taking” through the ANCSA process (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015; Willie, personal communication, 2015). The ASRC has become the most important local private sector actor in the region, and a company spokesman confirmed that its mission is to represent the business interests of its 9,000 shareholders (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  The corporation does over one billion dollars of business annually, and is growing rapidly (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  In the late 2000s the company was making more than $100 million per year in profits (Reiss, 2012, p. 102).  ASRC has been successful in stimulating the local North Slope economy.  The Corporation leverages its title to five million acres of land (and associated surface and subsurface rights) in the North Slope, and has even greater potential profits from the untapped natural resources.  The corporation is savvy and already monetizes its subsurface rights in some areas.  ASRC works with oil companies in the North Slope to make sure they charge appropriately for land usage.  The corporation also sells oil and uses its own subsidiaries to drill and move the oil to the TAPS pipeline (Brown, personal communication, 2015). ASRC also operates subsidiaries in the North Slope and internationally, divided among five main business segments including engineering and consulting services, civil construction, oil and gas support services, petroleum refining, communications, aerospace 	 107 and venture capital management (ASRC 2014b). “[Its] clients range from local entities to multinational corporations and governmental agencies from the local to federal level” (Bauman, 2007).  The company wholly owns and operates its own businesses, and targets mature, established businesses that are turnaround projects (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC wants to reduce risk, perhaps given its large dividend responsibilities. A company spokesperson noted that ASRC delivers benefits through growth and employment.  The organization employs about 11,000 employees worldwide, and about 4,500 in Alaska and 3,000 in the North Slope (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  With its large profits, ASRC pays annual dividends of $10,000 to about 9,000 shareholders, which the company defines as anyone who is registered and is at least 25% ethnically Inupiat.  Shareholders do not have to purchase shares of stock.  This dividend, similar to the pay out from the Alaska Permanent Fund annual dividend, provides an important source of cash in the North Slope, unusual in remote Alaska.  ASRC has a youthful and growing shareholder base it must support through its annual dividends (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  Representatives note with some concern that a younger generation of shareholders is removed from earlier struggles, and views the ASRC as a “dividend machine” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). The ASRC offers hope of economic diversification in the local economy.  The company has an ambitious business plan that consciously seeks to diversify beyond petroleum, due to the uncertainty in this sector.  The company continues to grow its business in the North Slope through, for example, the recent acquisition of a local oil field, a move designed to position themselves to take advantage of any potential new pipelines in the region (Brown, personal communication, 2015). 	 108 Although ASRC’s business in the North Slope remains primarily tied to the oil and gas industry on the North Slope, the company is not tied exclusively to the fate of the region.  ASRC is looking beyond the North Slope geographically, and beyond North Slope oil and gas.  It has leveraged its subsidiaries into contracts in Alaska and elsewhere.  The organization’s five-year strategic plan aims to diversify businesses and invest outside of Alaska (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  The other North Slope village corporations are active in private sector business operations on a much more limited and local scale (NSSI). After this discussion of local North Slope politics, I turn now to a discussion of the North Slope’s federal (and state) relations.  North Slope residents and organizations often view federal intervention with ambivalence or hostility.  Although Native corporations may be more amenable to oil development than ICAS or AEWC, all resent ongoing U.S. intervention in their jurisdiction. Several North Slope organizations are concerned with what they view as expanding federal regulatory jurisdiction that impacts local autonomy on economic issues.  Interestingly, this argument is used by Native corporations in defence of the oil-based formal economy, as well as by tribal government in support of the subsistence economy.  What is evident are the miscommunications and conflict arising from differing perceptions of what constitutes “science,” which habitats and wildlife need to be protected, and who has the authority to decide these issues in the North Slope.  Scientific involvement by the federal government in the region sparks resident concerns about local autonomy and U.S. federal intervention.  This conflict manifests itself in part through the diverging declared priorities 	 109 between the government and local Native residents about what environmental protection is and should be. The ASRC, for example, argued that the proposed expansion of federal Critical Habitat legislation halts potential projects in their region that they depend on “to keep the lights on” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  The interviewee stressed the important difference between having a meaningful “seat at the table” as compared to endless rounds of “consulting” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). However, Native corporations, like tribal organizations, are conflicted about government activity.  One North Slope village corporation, for example, looks to the federal government for responsibility for environmental cleanup if an oil spill were to occur, but resists its intervention on issues that affect subsistence.  In a similar vein, corporations resent the federal expansion of the Critical Habitat Act, but criticize Alaska’s decision to remove itself from the federal coastal management plan, arguing that Alaska doesn’t care about cleaning up tribal land along the Chukchi Sea, and that it only cares about Prudhoe Bay because it is state land (Willie, personal communication, 2015). The federal government often conducts public meetings throughout the North Slope on these initiatives, although previous academic studies of these stakeholder meetings indicate that local opinion is often overlooked.  Recommendations that arise at the state level “are often more deferred to than comments from local governments” (Haley et al., 2009, p. 126).  Offshore development projects have been vetted more thoroughly in North Slope meetings but due to cultural and technical factors, meaningful public input may be limited. “While there are many opportunities for local involvement in offshore decision making, these 	 110 opportunities are not always effective due to cultural factors, local capacity and competing interests” (Haley et al., 2009, p. 125). National authorities do however, successfully collaborate with ICAS and AEWC, the oil and gas industry, and the North Slope Borough. However, AEWC’s ability to intervene in offshore issues in the future may be limited, given a recent resolution adopted by its governing body, the Barrow Whaling Captains Association (BWCA). This resolution appears to limit the capacity of an offshore oil opponent.  The implications are unclear for a more narrowly defined mission for AEWC. AEWC will still participate in the ongoing Conflict Avoidance Agreement (CAA), and a representative from the borough DWM considers the CAA a successful example of private sector cooperation in the North Slope.  The Conflict Avoidance Agreement was established around 1995 among private sector actors.  Oil companies operating in Alaska and AEWC cooperate to ensure that even with offshore oil and gas activity, communities could obtain some subsistence foods.  This follows from the Maine Mammals law, which holds that private activity cannot negatively impact the availability of marine mammals for subsistence.  The federal government could not regulate industry very well to enforce this law, so AEWC took the lead to ensure subsistence can continue, and directed industry (Jones, personal communication, 2015). North Slope institutions have fraught relations with the Alaskan government, although perhaps to a lesser degree than federal authorities.  The state also has both conflicting and intermingled interests in the North Slope.  The growth in state transfer programs that benefit the North Slope, such as the Alaska Permanent Fund, highlights some co-dependent relationships between the oil industry, government, and the borough.  The 	 111 borough benefits from state government grants that contribute to K–12 education and health and social services.  The state also provides a few government jobs in villages.  Dividends from Alaska’s Permanent Fund provide cash and a household income floor.  As in most other parts of rural Alaska, cash from other state sources is modest.  However, as we have noted, without a diversified economy, cash transfers are valuable but inefficient.  “Only a small share of the cash generated within and flowing into remote rural Alaska sticks in the local economy” (Goldsmith, 2007). I conclude this section with a review of the key political and economic dynamics in the North Slope that helped create the conditions and set the stage for Shell’s offshore project, to be discussed in the next section.  The centralization of power in the North Slope has weakened the voices opposed to development, including village residents and tribal organizations.  The economic strength of Native corporations, and their long cooperation with the oil industry has made them, along with a municipal government already dependent on oil to operate, more open to Shell’s initiative.  The shifting cleavages and cooperation that co-exist between and within local institutions and among residents further dilute coherent alternatives to offshore development as a means to preserve the local standard of living.  These divisions are many including between the Mayor and the Assembly, the villages and borough’s centralized bureaucracy, among Native corporations, between the borough and Native corporations, and tribal governments and Native corporations.  Their interests shift, sometimes overlap, and possess changing sources of influence.  The fluid dynamics are evident in quotidian management of the area, and shape the region’s response to the advent of offshore oil development.   	 112 4.4 Offshore Oil Decision-Making Dynamics “If we do not actively define our interests in the Arctic,  they will be defined for us by others.”        – (Biette & Parlow, 2015) The first half of this chapter traced how petroleum dependency developed in the North Slope, Alaska, and at the Federal level, as well as the roles and interests of stakeholders constellated around the petroleum industry.  All seek to control oil and gas activities in the North Slope and the distribution of their revenues.  The second half of this chapter examines how these relationships play out as opportunities for economic salvation shifted offshore, to Shell’s now-suspended development in the Chukchi Sea.  These same stakeholders have new opportunities to either oppose offshore development or reap the benefits.  Much depends on how they manage negotiations.  The complex negotiations around Shell’s offshore project illuminate the dynamics of decision-making in the region.  “Both on- and offshore oil development in Alaska are administered through a multitiered governance process, which includes federal oversight on federal lands and in federal waters, state-federal cooperative arrangements, state and NSB jurisdictions, and local involvement” (Blair, Lovecraft, & Kofinas, 2014, p. 36).   After many setbacks, Royal Dutch Shell Corporation was poised to drill for oil on two leases in the Chukchi Sea in the summer of 2015.  Shell’s subsidiary Shell Gulf of Mexico, Inc. paid more than $2 billion in 2008 for exploration leases in the Chukchi.  A subsequent Exploration Plan approved by the Department of the Interior in 2009 allowed the company to bore up to three exploration wells during the summer open water-drilling season (U.S. Department of the Interior, 2009). Shell’s collaborative strategies broke new ground in Arctic decision-making, particularly through a profit sharing agreement concluded exclusively among civil society 	 113 actors.  Although much of the offshore development discussion happened on the North Slope, the local debates and interests were co-constituted at the state and federal levels.  Shell connected security and development issues at several scales.  The company intervened with public and private stakeholders in different venues for different constituencies—community meetings in the North Slope, the Alaska state legislature, and the U.S. Congress in Washington DC. 4.4.1 Federal offshore oil dilemmas I begin by contextualizing Shell’s initiative at the federal level.  The company was able to connect its offshore program to federal concerns about energy security.  Shell’s recent Arctic offshore initiative occurred as the United States negotiated two historical events: its arrival at an energy policy crossroads, and its accession to the chairmanship of the circumpolar Arctic Council in 2015.  The offshore oil program in the Alaskan Arctic is one of the key issues that emerges from and impacts national energy politics and nascent Arctic policy.  Offshore development exemplifies the highest hopes and greatest weaknesses of U.S. energy policy and approach to its Arctic frontier.  More practically, the federal government hoped to gain another source of domestically sourced petroleum.  In the offshore development process the federal government has several roles that intersect.  In addition, the U.S. develops partnerships to make it easier for it to do its job, such as with local regulatory agencies and even the oil industry itself (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  It regulates industry directly through several agencies, and by holding the oil patch leases for sale, which allows it to set the sale conditions.  Lease sales are also an important economic benefit for the federal government. 	 114 Climate change is also located at this policy intersection, exemplifying American schizophrenia in Arctic and energy policies.  The US focused on climate change during its tenure as Arctic Council leader, although this issue is politically controversial among policymakers.  In the spring of 2015, the Obama administration set climate change as the U.S. priority during its tenure leading the Arctic Council.  Shortly thereafter, the Republican-led U.S. Senate agreed in a floor vote that climate change was real and not a hoax, but denied that it was the result of human activity (Schor, 2015).   Figure 7.  Federal environmental agencies in Alaska are very involved in different ways monitoring offshore development. Here, the U.S Coast Guard ferries members of a scientific research group in the Arctic Ocean. U.S. Navy photo by Aerographer’s Mate 1st Class Gene Swope (2005) (Public Domain)  American national energy policy is in flux, although energy security is the current watchword—this in the form of reliable (domestic) supply.  For some time, there have been efforts to reduce U.S. dependence on oil, at least foreign oil, for national and energy security reasons.  Industry and its associations reproduce the popular narrative of the benefits of domestic sourcing, although they stop short of recommending dropping oil altogether. Resource Development Council for Alaska, Inc. (n.d.) estimated there was about 50 billion 	 115 barrels of conventional oil remaining to be developed on the North Slope and offshore areas of the Alaska Arctic: “Alaska’s offshore waters and onshore prospects hold the potential to fuel the state’s economy for decades and to play a key role in ensuring America has the energy it needs until alternative sources become available on a large scale” (Resource Development Council for Alaska, Inc., n.d.).  Besides production, the ability to control notoriously volatile crude oil prices is another key aspect of energy security.  The American shale oil boom has addressed both issues to an extent, while raising fresh environmental concerns.  Shale oil has however, such powerful economic and political implications, that the New York Times recently hailed it as a means to stabilize oil prices and insulate the American energy producers and consumers from OPEC (Krauss, 2015). American oil producers want to lift a 30-year ban on oil exports, to expand the U.S. market.  Alaskan Republican Senator Murkowski, on the Senate’s powerful Energy committee, has accepted this file.  U.S. Arctic offshore development is touted as a means to ensure national energy security.  Advocates argue it deepens the U.S. production capacity and lowers prices.  Arctic offshore development is poised to fill the gap in domestic production.  Offshore debacles such as the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico have slowed, but not stopped, domestic offshore development elsewhere.  Although controversial, it is attractive compared to alternatives.  The U.S.  Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM) notes that Shell’s proposed development appears productive but environmentally risky.  They estimated the lease site could produce “as much as 4.3 billion barrels of oil from the area, higher than original estimates of just 1 billion.  But [the BOEM study] also details a 75 percent chance of an oil spill” (Caulderwood, 2014). 	 116 Arctic offshore development offers hope for American energy independence, particularly since other sites of oil and gas production have been unreliable.  Production has been falling at sites in the Gulf of Mexico, and in Alaska, the near term chances of onshore oil and gas development are slim.  Some of Alaska’s largest untapped onshore oil and gas troves are located in the North Slope.  Development in ANWR And NPRA has stalled, as resource development is politically unpopular in these environmentally sensitive areas, especially under the current Democratic presidential administration.24 Low natural gas prices also stymie development in this direction. U.S. authorities clearly considered Alaskan offshore oil a key part of national energy strategy, and anticipate an important role for the federal government in its development.  In 2015 Secretary of the Interior, Sally Jewell declared, The Arctic is an important component of the Administration’s national energy strategy, and we remain committed to taking a thoughtful and balanced approach to oil and gas leasing and exploration offshore Alaska.”   Jewell went on to emphasize the role of the federal government, “This unique, sensitive and often challenging environment requires effective oversight to ensure all activities are conducted safely and responsibly.” (U.S. Department of the Interior, 2015)  Such federal statements highlight the ongoing appeal of offshore development as well as the tensions federal authorities navigate in this realm.  In a 2016 press release, after the Shell debacle, federal authorities continue to evaluate potential lease sales for offshore oil development.  																																																						24	Alaskan production has dropped for several reasons, and Alaska faces competition from new domestic drilling sites, which emerged spurred by higher oil prices and new drilling technologies.  Alaska’s role in U.S oil production has fallen drastically; Alaska’s share of domestic oil production fell from a peak of 25% in 1988, to seven percent in 2013 (McDowell Group, 2014, p. 8).		 117 This is a balanced proposal that protects sensitive resources and supports safe and responsible development of the nation’s domestic energy resources to create jobs and reduce our dependence on foreign oil,” said [Interior] Secretary Jewell. “The proposal focuses potential lease sales in areas with the highest resource potential, greatest industry interest, and established infrastructure.  At the same time, the proposal removes other areas from consideration for leasing, and seeks input on measures to further reduce potential impacts to the environment, coastal communities, and competing ocean and coastal uses, such as subsistence activities by Alaska Natives (U.S. Department of the Interior, 2016).  President Obama made a largely symbolic ban on offshore petroleum development as he left office. This policy is unlikely to remain uncontested during the next administration, and proponents of repealing the ban will likely use the same arguments I have described here. The energy debate unfolds as the United State attempts to develop an Arctic strategy more coherent, more concrete, and more coordinated than its current approach to the region.  How the federal government handles new offshore development shapes its evolving Arctic strategy, and tests its effectiveness.  The most recent impetus for a renewed look at U.S. Arctic strategy has emerged from the United States’ two-year chairmanship of the Arctic Council in 2015.  Ironically, the Arctic Council member with perhaps the weakest Arctic program at least rhetorically, set circumpolar policy. The United States’ efforts to improve aspects of its Arctic strategy, if not create one whole cloth, have been in the works for years.  Progress has been sporadic, and highly dependent on the goals of the Executive.  President GW Bush’s administration issued the National Security Presidential Directive and Homeland Security Presidential Directive in 2009.  This document noted national priorities in the region as: national security, environmental protection, environmentally sustainable resource management and economic development, cooperation with other Arctic nations, involvement of the Arctic’s indigenous communities, and 	 118 enhancing scientific monitoring and research (White House, 2009).  More recently the Obama administration issued a similar policy, National Strategy for the Arctic Region, which reframed the Bush-era priorities.  Hints as to national priorities in the Arctic are plain in U.S. research policy priorities for the region, which advocate efficiently combining “economic and national security infrastructure” (Office of the President of the United States, 2013).   However, both these official documents only lay out broad policy frameworks.  Day-to-day decisions in the Arctic occur at much lower bureaucratic levels, across many agencies, in cooperation with subnational and private sector actors.  Diverse decision-makers and opinion-makers bemoan the US’s perceived lack of “readiness” in the Arctic; its lack of leadership and coordination, compared with other Arctic nations.  The influential U.S. Council of Foreign Relations’s website features a memorandum declaring, “The United States needs to develop a comprehensive strategy for the Arctic” (Bert, 2012). The article presents a viewpoint held widely among American policymakers and think tanks across the political spectrum: that if the United States does not set its own goals for Arctic activity, then other stakeholders will fill the void and impinge on American leadership and sovereignty in the region.  Some commentators are optimistic, pointing to President Obama’s 2015 Executive Order, “Enhancing Coordination of National Efforts in the Arctic,” as evidence that The White House is attempting to concretize and coordinate its Arctic policy (Biette & Parlow, 2015). Currently the United States lacks the institutional or administrative capacity for coordinated Arctic activity, and setting grand strategy, in part because it also lacks a deep Arctic history and sense of identity.  Alaska is remote and de-linked from the rest of the country geographically.  Also, the nation’s official link to the Arctic arrived rather late.  	 119 Alaskan statehood was only declared in 1959, after several decades of loose federal administration as a territory.  Further, national narratives do not tie up the identity of the United States’ with its Arctic, as in Canada and Russia.  The federal government has limited its activity to using Alaska as a space and a trove of resources for various specific projects, but rarely with a master plan.  It has relied on rather loose and ad hoc policies, relying on episodic economic strategies and broadly worded policy statements.  This continues today.  Twenty-two federal agencies manage different aspects of Arctic policy; several, including the U.S. Department of Defense, have developed their own Arctic strategic plans with widely diverging priorities, uncoordinated by any central body. Russia, in contrast, has a strong national identity as an Arctic country and extensive programming in the region.  Russia has long experimented with various Arctic governing arrangements, attempting to coordinate the activities of various ministries charged with different aspects of Arctic management and administration (McCannon, 1998).  Russian and Soviet regimes struggled to achieve a coherent national strategy for the Arctic.  Although not successful, national-level plans at least provided a vision for the region.  However, coordination remains elusive.  Even the official national strategies never resolved the massive problem of federal coordination in Russia, which is still ongoing.  President Putin has announced that Russia is considering reestablishing a single Arctic ministry to coordinate its activities.  Firstly, we need to improve quality of government control, of decision-making. This requires the creation of a single centre of responsibility for the implementation of our policy in the Arctic. I would like to stress here that we do not need a cumbersome bureaucratic structure; we need a flexible agency that would help to better coordinate the activity of ministries and agencies, of the Russian regions and businesses. (President of Russia, 2014)   	 120 Advocates for a comprehensive national strategy argue that the cumbersome and uncoordinated U.S. regulatory environment discourages international investment and development of natural resources in the Arctic.25 They argue this endangers U.S. sovereignty in the Arctic and the national energy supply.  As evidence, they cite the recent suspension by Royal Dutch Shell of its almost decade long, multi-billion-dollar effort to explore for oil in the Chukchi Sea.  Although several oil and gas operators hold leases to explore for petroleum in this area, Shell has been the most tenacious.  Its efforts to begin offshore oil exploration have spun webs of relationships as it negotiates federal regulations, local North Slope stakeholders, and lawsuits. A key reason why political consensus on a single Arctic strategy, or at least coordinated Arctic activities is so difficult to achieve, is that the federal government lacks the fiscal resources and political will to develop all policy areas that comprise the broad Arctic policy arena.  Arctic strategy is in fact, a collection of several hotly debated policy and issue areas, including military or geostrategic policy, economic development, trade, environmental and economic development, and energy policies.  Arctic energy is particularly controversial and fraught with debate because it is tied up in other policy realms such as environmental protection and national energy security.  There is confusion and disagreement about where to establish legislation and distribute resources.  Piecemeal regional policies and programs result from diverse and conflicting ideas of what should be done and how to do it.  Instead, the federal government intervenes directly in certain Arctic policy areas, collaborates on others, and lets subnational and private sector actors take care of still others. 																																																						25	As a caveat, this paper does not necessarily advocate a unified federal strategy in the American Arctic.  It seeks merely to explore the current regime in the region.  Crafting a formal strategy in the Arctic is not a silver bullet for coordinated and sustainable regional development.		 121 The federal government spends money in Alaska largely in order to shore up its Arctic presence or natural resources.  Scientific and military and environmental regulatory issues are the areas of significant intervention in Alaska and in the North Slope, compared to social welfare and economic development.  The government has expanded its reach through an environmental component often connected to these realms.  The federal footprint in the North Slope takes the form of ongoing environmental projects through agencies such as the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management BOEM, the Coast Guard, or the Department of the Interior (DOI).  It also operates through a range of legal instruments and legislation mostly related to environmental and sovereignty concerns, such as legal sea boundaries and through legislation such as the Critical Habitat Act and Clean Water Act (Figure 7).  Regarding offshore oil development, the federal government has provided itself several roles, including lease sales, and environmental regulation through several of the aforementioned agencies. Near-term prospects for coordinated Arctic policy in the United States seem dim.  Arctic debate occurs in a politically polarized decision-making environment.  Although federal Arctic policy often reflects the presidential administration, a divided Congress can make it very difficult for the Executive to implement certain policies.  Concerns about environmental protection and national dependence on nonrenewable petroleum resources are particularly intractable.  Broad and bitter national debates about overreliance on petroleum, and particularly foreign oil, land in the Arctic.  Plans to transfer most or all energy (namely oil and gas) from foreign to domestic sources are challenged in the public and governmental spheres.  American political culture encourages such public debate.  However, it is difficult to achieve consensus on Arctic policy in such a context, particularly without a historically coherent approach to the Arctic. 	 122 Tensions among different levels of government limit consensus on Arctic strategies.  Some decision makers prioritize security and economic development concerns, driven by non-renewables, and the others stress environmental protection and alternative development streams.  The federal government and the state of Alaska both have legal and administrative powers in the Arctic and differ in some ways on their approach to the region.  Current national strategy in the Arctic, shaped by the Obama administration, emphasizes response to climate change and environmental protection.  In contrast, Alaska prioritizes economic development and circumpolar cooperation (Biette & Parlow, 2015). Natural resource activity in the American Arctic, particularly around oil and gas, relies on a culture of constant negotiation, horse-trading, and leverage.  Because the pace of gas and oil development is tied to disjointed decision-making processes that move rather slowly, stakeholders have plenty of time to influence the process.  Arctic energy is being decided quietly through small decisions among several actors.  It is yet unclear how an American Arctic strategy, or at least more coordinated activity, would bear on many of the issues in the Arctic, including developing non-renewables.  However, in this political culture, it is easy to see how the constant lobbying and negotiations among stakeholders shape complex activities such as oil and gas development. Shell’s Arctic offshore oil program navigates in this complex decision-making environment, which requires elaborate negotiations.  The uncoordinated process of federal resource development permitting process in the U.S. Arctic is lengthy and byzantine.  It requires extensive negotiation among stakeholders.  Offshore development is even more complex.  The offshore oil drilling process begins when the federal government offers exploratory leases for sale to oil companies, then follows a lengthy period of bids, sales, then 	 123 exploration of a site, and sampling.  The full development of the site has its own timeline.  This is an opaque process that requires oil companies to commit years and significant resources without certainty of successful development.  It requires several steps and regulatory reviews among various government agencies.  The relationships among industry and government shape the tax and regulatory policies that emerge.  These interests and positions are dynamic, and vary within these institutions and over time.  McBeath notes that the fluidity of bargaining relationships, “changes in the bargaining context[,] and the composition and orientation of each actor will change the nature of the bargain and the ability of each actor to shape the bargain in its interests (McBeath et al., 2008, p. 2). Some scholars characterize the relationships as adversarial, noting “longstanding conflict among stakeholders over oil and gas development in offshore northern Alaska”  (Haley, Klick, Szymoniak, & Crow, 2011, p. 458).  However, the overlap among stakeholder interests and membership is significant, so agreement and cooperation, perhaps even for only short-term goals, are perhaps underestimated.  Nevertheless, even agreeing on who is a “real” stakeholder is debated—several North Slope institutions distinguished between non-Arctic stakeholders and “true” Arctic stakeholders and dismissed international environmental NGOs, as meddlesome, non-Arctic interests (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015; Willie, personal communication, 2015). To summarize, the special arrangements of the federal ANCSA agreement discussed in the history section accounts for the special arrangements we see for the relatively high degree of indigenous resource sovereignty in the North Slope. The political negotiations in the 1970s created the intertwined political and economic institutions in the North Slope as well as the political dynamics on the Slope and with outside actors. 	 124 4.4.2 Shell’s federal and local strategies in the North Slope Shell’s was the first serious attempt at an offshore drilling project in the American Arctic in a long time.  Its negotiations with other stakeholders have shaped new protocols for offshore development and future oil and gas operations in the region.  Shell developed relationships with state and federal authorities, as well as the North Slope institutions and residents.  They are paving the way for subsequent interactions around future oil and gas operations in the American Arctic.  This section reviews the company’s recent history in the region, which situates the profit sharing agreement negotiations in context. Shell is among several multinational oil and gas companies operating in American Arctic waters, and a relatively recent arrival to Alaska compared to some other oil corporations and gas operators.  The company, through its subsidiary, Shell Exploration and Production Company, is the largest exploratory leaseholder in both the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas, first arriving in Alaska in 1960.26 Today the company holds more than 300 offshore leases in the area.27 Other global oil and gas companies hold leases and eventually hope to drill in American Arctic waters, including BP, Statoil, and Repsol.  Still other companies own, operate, or hold interest in onshore oil fields, production facilities, and pipelines throughout Alaska. Shell returned to the North Slope in 2006 to resume operations after several decades of absence (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  In the 1990s Shell had drilled 32 offshore wells without incident, but let them lay fallow as they pursued opportunities in the Gulf of Mexico.  The price of oil was low at the time.  Shell Gulf of Mexico Inc. began a 																																																						26	Shell uses different subsidiaries for different development phases. 27 Shell Alaska is a subsidiary of parent company, Royal Dutch Shell Corporation, based in the Netherlands.  Shell Alaska reports to Houston, Texas, Shells’ North American Headquarters, which in turn reports to the Netherlands. 	 125 long process with federal authorities towards offshore drilling in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas.  The company was required to undergo a number of federal statutory and regulatory requirements for permission to operate in the Arctic.  The approval process encountered many roadblocks and corporate missteps over the years, including regulatory delays and lawsuits.  As a result, in 2013, Royal Dutch Shell PLC announced that it was suspending operations in the Alaska Arctic for 2014, causing an economic ripple effect in the region.  The company said the decision was based in part on a federal appeals court ruling that found the federal government conducted a flawed environmental review before selling $2.7 billion in oil and gas leases to Shell and other companies in the Chukchi Sea in 2008, where Shell was the leading bidder.28 External events, notably the Macondo–Deepwater Horizon accident in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010, further delayed progress with federal regulations.  The incident sparked a moratorium on all offshore projects in American waters for several years.  In 2012 Shell delayed things further through its own technical difficulties and incompetence.  Noble Drilling, one of Shell’s subcontractors in the Arctic, that operates the drill rigs, pled guilty to eight felony charges related to safety and environmental problems and paid the federal government $12 million in fines in 2014 (Restino, 2015).  Shell’s 2015 proposed plan in the Chukchi uses the same contractor (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Major national and international environmental NGOs actively opposed the project, arguing Shell did not take adequate measures either to prevent a spill or to clean it up effectively in Arctic waters.  The federal government voiced similar concerns, and this 																																																						28 Shell has also held several leases to explore oil in the Beaufort Sea for a long time.  In 2011 the company finally gained conditional approval by the DOI to drill for oil in the Beaufort Sea.  The Beaufort Sea exploration program had withstood an appeal in federal court that followed on five years of legal challenges.  The company’s efforts also faced regulatory hurdles during this period. 	 126 argument was successful in delaying approvals for several years, particularly post-Macondo, as the company struggled to demonstrate adequate response measures.  Environmental NGOs equally criticized the federal government for what they considered lax regulatory oversight.  A representative from Oceana said, “The Obama administration has steadfastly refused to fully and fairly evaluate the risks of selling leases in the Chukchi Sea” (Restino, 2015). Several North Slope organizations partnered with international NGO’s, and brought about some of the largest lawsuits against Shell’s offshore project, highlighting the extent to which the community remains divided about oil and gas development, the economic trajectory of the region, and how to coexist with Shell. Navigating the regulatory and exploration process, Shell negotiated with federal agencies and North Slope representatives and organizations.  Shell employed several strategies to improve cooperative relationships in order to secure the leases and pave the way for offshore development.  The federal government has offshore jurisdiction with regards to offshore development.  The company had to meet basic federal regulatory and legal requirements.  It spent $5 billion in five years, to address the regulatory requirements alone (Reiss, 2012).  The company also concluded agreements with NOAA and other federal agencies to share safety and environmental information.  Third, Shell lobbied federal authorities to reduce regulation and streamline offshore development processes.  Indeed, as a major resource company Shell lobbies regularly at the federal level, both through the supportive Alaska Congressional Delegation, and directly to the White House (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Although the fraught aspects of the corporate/federal relationships were well publicized, the state and industry emphasized areas of collaboration.  The Obama 	 127 administration, while seemingly moving overall towards opening offshore drilling opportunities in the Arctic and elsewhere, recently added more environmental regulations (Harder & Gilbert, 2015) Secretary of Interior Sally Jewell described federal cooperation with industry.  Both industry and government have taken important strides to better protect human lives and the environment from oil spills, and these proposed measures are designed to further build on critical lessons learned from the Deepwater Horizon tragedy and to ensure that offshore operations are safe.  (Sec. Jewell as quoted in Harder & Gilbert, 2015)  Shell too, positioned itself as supporting federal interests by providing national security assets as well as and state and local economic development through its role in domestic oil production.  Shell’s strategy at the state and federal levels was made clear in remarks made by the president of Shell USA, "Shell continues to see important exploration potential in the basin, and the area is likely to ultimately be of strategic importance to Alaska and the U.S” (Macalister, 2015). Indeed, many national security bureaus and politicians support offshore oil development, and private sector expertise in its efficient extraction. “Industry experts and national security officials view the Alaskan Arctic as the last great domestic oil prospect, one that over time could bring the country a giant step closer to cutting its dependence on foreign oil” (Broder & Krauss, 2012). To position itself as a guarantor of national energy security, Shell seeks to strengthen its alliances beyond traditional allies in Washington DC.  It aims to develop relationships with the U.S. Department of State, and has claimed the Trans-Alaska Pipeline is a strategic National Asset, a position widely shared in Congress (Reiss, 2012, p. 184).  Shell also has ongoing federal interests that coexist alongside specific offshore 	 128 lobbying activity: it is perennially seeking to influence federal oil tax laws, energy policy bills, environmental legislation (such as the Clean Water Act) and climate change legislation  Shell reiterates existing American security rationales the states already use to advance preferred strategies and initiatives.  Politically, security framings ease funding for almost any project.  Shell’s 2011 promotional materials for their Alaskan Arctic program notes, for example, “The oil we plan to produce will boost supplies to the USA, building energy security for the country” (Royal Dutch Shell PLC, 2011). Shell’s comments reflect recent federal framings of offshore oil development, as an effort to improve national energy independence—a goal with economic and geopolitical implications.  The company position reiterates a White House press release from 2010, which captures the federal emphasis on efficiency in Arctic activity, including plans to explore oil development on the U.S. Outer Continental Shelf (OCS).  The strategic nature of offshore development was reinforced by web links to the U.S. Department of Defense’s energy security strategies, some of which relate to domestic, offshore oil: “Obama Administration Announces Comprehensive Strategy for Energy Security: Decisions expand domestic production, promote efficiency.  Washington D.C.—As part of the Administration’s comprehensive energy strategy President Barack Obama and Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar today announced more details of the Obama Administration’s efforts to strengthen our energy security.  President Obama and Secretary Salazar announced that the Administration will expand oil and gas development and exploration on the U.S. Outer Continental Shelf (OCS) to enhance our nation’s energy independence while protecting fisheries, tourism, and places off U.S. coasts that are not appropriate for development. …  By responsibly expanding conventional energy development and exploration here at home we can strengthen our energy security, create jobs, and help rebuild our economy,” said Salazar (White House, 2010).   	 129 In these federal policy statements, authorities frame offshore development as compatible with a wide range of stakeholder interests.  It is possible to lower oil costs, ensure environmental protection, and to diversify domestic sources of oil and gas—the energy resources the US continues to rely on.  The United States Department of the Interior statements stress federal efforts to balance energy demands with environmental concerns and indigenous rights. Similarly, Shell’s promotional materials position their activities as a natural extension of “obvious” and timeless state interests in the Arctic, implying that they can coexist seamlessly with native interests and environmental concerns.  One document is entitled “Shell in the Arctic” and seems aimed at their own shareholders, as well as Arctic states and stakeholders.  It alludes to the company’s role in local job creation, reiterating an economic security theme as well. The sparsely populated coastal areas of the Arctic were—and still are—traditionally fertile hunting and fishing grounds for local people.  In more recent times a range of industrial activities have taken hold, such as commercial fishing, oil and gas activities, mining, increased shipping and even eco- and cruise-tourism.  Likewise, the Arctic has always attracted military interest and all Arctic states still have a strong focus on security issues of the high North.  In the 20th century, the increasing search for minerals and oil and gas led to the exploration and further development of large areas of the Arctic and created even more jobs. (Royal Dutch Shell PLC, 2011)  In 2009 a statement by Shell’s Executive Vice President of Exploration, David Lawrence appealed to the interests of all major stakeholders by describing how all can benefit from “responsible” oil and gas development (Lawrence, 2009).  He stated that Shell could deliver energy security and economic development while also protecting the environment. 	 130 The company seeks to win over the large segments of the American public skeptical of the oil and gas industry and more broadly concerned about reliance on fossil fuels (even domestic sources).  Lawrence portrayed the state and country’s economic reliance on petroleum as inevitable, and raised the specter of more imported oil as crippling the entire national economy. [Alaska’s Resource Development Council] could strongly influence for Alaskans how the State will be prosperous when the Trans-Alaska Pipeline is shut down because no offshore oil is flowing through it.  That table could influence an outcome for a country that already imports 60% of its oil how quickly that number will grow to 80%.  And that table in the back could drive the US Federal Treasury, (which could use some cash right now), to refund over $10-Billion in lease bonuses because of a 5-year OCS leasing plan that was, in layman’s terms, voided on a technicality. (Lawrence, 2009)   Shell positions itself as delivering a non-negotiable vital good, even in light of climate change.  In the world of the three hard truths, increased demand, harder to find and produce energy, climate change and CO2.  This is simply opting out of the challenge.  We need people, communities, government, regulators, and organizations to opt in.  Let’s not talk about the 50 ways that something might not be able to work—let’s focus on the way that it can.  Let’s show we can do it and do it right. (Lawrence, 2009)  Lawrence delivered these remarks at Alaska’s Resource Development Council Annual Meeting in Anchorage, an event sponsored by a long list of major transnational oil and gas companies, as well as associated companies involved in other aspects of the oil and gas industry (including ASRC).   Indeed, Shell and the state of Alaska enjoy considerable synergy in message and strategy, which they leverage to lobby the American public and federal government to expand offshore drilling.  The appeal of expanding domestic oil and gas production cuts across party lines in Alaska.  State government officials and oil and gas industry decision 	 131 makers have close relationships.  Former Alaska Democratic Senator Begich, for example, in a meeting of oil and gas industry leaders, reassured them that he was joining Republican and Democratic Senators as well as the American Petroleum Institute, to amend Obama’s oil tax proposals in the proposed federal budget to “continue to incentivize domestic production” through eliminating the proposed industry taxes (Begich, 2009). From a discussion of Shell’s federal strategies to promote its Arctic offshore venture, I now turn to Shell’s local strategies in the North Slope.  Here the company has relied on different strategies.  Offshore oil development has been particularly controversial.  Compared to onshore development, it is perceived to more seriously threaten the environment and indigenous subsistence practices.  Second, it appears to offer fewer direct financial benefits than onshore development.  Finally, local stakeholders felt they have fewer “tools” to control the trajectory of this new form of development.  Nonetheless, opposition to offshore oil development has softened in the North Slope, in part through Shell’s intervention, as well as through other events.  However, development in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas remains controversial, given the Inupiat majority’s longstanding reliance on whaling in the same waters. North Slope organizations, through their history of activism and proximity to the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas, have become local gatekeepers of the Arctic offshore drilling debate.  They face significant risk from offshore activity, which they hope to minimize.  However, the view of how to exert control differs among organizations.  Some North Slope institutions negotiate with Shell to obtain some of the benefits associated with offshore oil development.  These include the borough and most Native corporations, which would also benefit financially from new offshore development.  The borough stands to benefit, and a 	 132 senior manager explained how they have become concerned about the drop in oil volume flowing through the TAPS pipeline over the last decade (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  Shell’s offshore oil development represents an important source of potential continued revenue for the state and North Slope Borough, and Native corporations.  The most likely scenario calls for moving at least some of the offshore oil through the existing TAPS infrastructure to market, which would raise the value of the taxable infrastructure (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  The borough and state need such an infusion into TAPS, which is only running at 35% capacity (Villa, personal communication, 2015). In contrast, tribal organizations like ICAS and AEWC have different interests—to them, maintaining subsistence is the priority.  The state of Alaska has fewer apparent qualms, and is attempting to position itself as the guarantor of U.S. domestic energy supply in its interactions with the federal government.  The State and North Slope face similar dilemmas however: they need to sustain the oil industry, at least in the short term, as economic alternatives are remote. Borough and Native corporations are more open to offshore development given their reliance on the continued growth of oil revenues for their survival.  Therefore, Shell seeks to make partners of these entities, as it makes it easier to work with them (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  The borough and Native corporations have determined that they can benefit financially even from offshore development in federal jurisdiction, because there will have to be infrastructure on their land, connecting to TAPS (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  This goes for the state of Alaska as well.  They also involve themselves in oil and gas activities to mitigate the risks of such development (Willie, personal communication, 2015).  	 133 In their view, participating in the processes around offshore development ensures they have some level of control. Inupiat leaders initially opposed the Prudhoe Bay oil fields that led to the creation of the North Slope Borough, although public opinion has changed regarding this kind of onshore development.  Local leaders “began to realize the benefits of industry-funded borough activities, [and] the Inupiat view shifted to tacit support of continued onshore development in the same area” (Kruse, 1991, p. 18).  Local public administrators note that some public figures take a public stance against offshore drilling, but change their perspective as budgets tighten. “No one gets elected saying they support offshore drilling” (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  On the other hand, increasing oil flow through TAPS would help the borough maintain its high standard of living.  Further, it is a politically popular move and it benefits local politicians at the local and state level. “It helps people in power maintain political influence” (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Most Slope organizations and residents have come to at least reluctantly support onshore development of oil and gas as a means to sustain their standard of living, although deep concerns linger over the social impacts.  Residents and leaders express fears about cultural loss and negative social changes, with a sentiment that it is already too late to recapture a lost Native social cohesion (Smith, personal communication, 2015).  As the region faces new debates around offshore drilling, one representative from a local Native corporation summed up these doubts, “How can we tap into offshore without hurting ourselves?” (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Although local residents are concerned about offshore threats to whaling, residents acknowledge their clear economic dependence on ongoing oil and gas activities.  Native 	 134 residents in particular, depend not only on oil and gas revenues, but also on bowhead whales for their subsistence hunting.  Concerns persist about how to clean up oil spills in water, and fears that the sounds may drive whales away or disrupt their migration patterns (Jones, personal communication, 2015). This tension has created local rifts.  Some estimate that 90% of the population support offshore (with concerns) and 10% oppose it strongly (Snow, personal communication, 2015).  Public opinion in Barrow is perhaps more open to offshore development than the villages, in part because Barrow enjoys most of the benefits that have already arrived with onshore oil.  There is perhaps a generation gap as well, as younger people identify more with being shareholders than tribal members (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015; Smith, personal communication, 2015).  Scholars note, “North Slope residents are consumers of both the benefits and risks of oil resource extraction.  Although the majority of borough residents have supported onshore oil development, offshore oil projects frequently draw opposition” (Blair, Lovecraft, & Kofinas, 2014, p. 36). Opposition to offshore development may be difficult to maintain going forward, however.  Onshore fields are drying up, and oil companies are increasingly looking to offshore sites that are more accessible with the warmer, shorter winters that reduce sea ice, lengthen the drilling season, and mitigate the other challenges associated with oil extraction in Arctic waters.  As it became more obvious that onshore reservoirs are now small, far apart and expensive to develop, offshore has gained in appeal (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Several drivers have softened local institutional and popular opinion towards offshore activity.  The shift was sparked by the behavior of an earlier offshore oil development in the 	 135 1990’s by oil company BP.  The company was very responsive to community concerns, and was able to gain the support of the community, even building its drilling island in state waters so the borough government could tax it (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  Second, residents (especially in Barrow) believe they need new sources of petroleum revenue for continued economic growth, and the hope that by participating in the process, it can control the trajectory of development.  No matter what their position, residents and institutions, as proximate, permanent stakeholders in this new development want to maintain local control in decision-making to manage the costs and benefits.  They hope to maintain local control and their standard of living (human security) by controlling the trajectory of offshore drilling. Third, a simple lack of other immediate economic alternatives for economic development resigns many to offshore development.  In interviews, several local leaders mentioned with pride the region’s improved standard of living, but their new goal for the North Slope was parity with the national standard of living, which, without alternatives, requires an infusion of oil revenue (Begaye, personal communication, 2015; Smith, personal communication, 2015).  Finally, the behavior of Shell in the region also softened opposition to offshore activity.  The company employed several strategies to gain support for its activities in the North Slope.  I will summarize these drivers here. North Slope villages are often at the front lines of the risks of new development, and in these smaller towns, popular opinion towards offshore oil development is more cautious.  Revenues from the Prudhoe Bay onshore oil development hugely changed the quality of life in villages (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  There were significant material gains, at the cost of serious cultural and environmental losses.  On the one hand, villages covet the 	 136 lifestyle in Barrow made possible by oil money (Snow, personal communication, 2015.) In polls they report positively on their quality of life since [onshore] oil development (Kruse, 2010).  On the other hand, most local residents historically opposed offshore development, citing difficulties associated with cleaning up offshore spills (Kruse, J.A. et al. 1983, pp. 193, 208). Villagers want to protect subsistence resources, but also want access to the jobs and income that oil brings—especially through employment.  They argue these are compatible activities, and indeed many village households participate in both spheres (Kruse, 1991).  A village native corporation representative noted that shareholders have mixed opinions about offshore oil, and summarized the conflict, “It means jobs for kids but subsistence is also a concern. … How to protect lands and sea mammals?” (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Native corporation leaders, particularly ASRC, argue that they share the concerns of their village shareholders.  They argue, however, that their engagement in offshore activities is important to ensure local control over the development trajectory, to capture financial benefits for shareholders, and to keep them involved in the development process so they may intervene to minimize risk.  This approach also allows them to partner with the oil companies. Despite popular reservations in villages, it is unclear to what extent this conflicted view translates to the borough and native corporation decision makers, not to mention the oil companies.  Scholars argue that the consolidation of power at the borough government makes opposition to oil and gas activity by residents difficult to mount.  As we have noted earlier, the voice of villages, often more critical of offshore development, is muted in the Borough 	 137 Assembly. “Centralized power in Borough headquarters has reduced the independence of the Borough villages and encouraged Borough citizens to act like clients and consumers” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 1) Borough representatives claim that as a government, it has never opposed onshore oil development (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  It had concerns about environmental impacts and how much the locality would benefit economically, but those were assuaged as Prudhoe Bay’s benefits were substantial and disturbed subsistence very little (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  Borough leaders have passed several measures facilitating onshore petroleum development in the North Slope, but are more cautious regarding offshore development.  It was unclear how much control the municipal government would have over development, and how to capture financial benefits.  Compared to onshore oil field activity, borough leaders have raised more “environmental concerns regarding offshore drilling on the outer continental shelf (which also happens to lie beyond their taxing authority)” (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 11).  In the past, the borough’s attitude towards oil development and relationship with other stakeholders depended greatly on the individuals in leadership.  Often these individuals set the tone for the institution they represent, even after their departure. Some scholars argue that the private sector Native corporations drove the shift in attitude among residents towards oil activity: “[They] have greatly influenced the real and perceived stake of the Inupiat in oil development.  Most of the revenues of the regional corporation (ASRC) are derived from subsidiaries with a strong presence in the oil field support industry” (Kruse, 1991, p. 18).  Despite concerns regarding offshore oil activity in particular, scholars during the early 1990s suggested that the more business-friendly Native corporations influenced the borough government to acquiesce more to industry than they 	 138 normally would.  I could not tell if this was the case.  It appears that the borough depends on oil just as much as the corporations.  Perhaps interests have co-mingled long enough for there to be, in 2015, no longer evidence of such a division. In addition to these other factors, Shell’s own behavior in the North Slope did much to shift public sentiment towards offshore development.  In parallel to its federal strategies, Shell developed relationships within the North Slope as it pursued federal offshore lease approvals and permissions, which required the company to solicit the input of North Slope residents.  Shell’s profit-sharing agreement with several local Native corporations was perhaps one of the most hopeful activities in an often fraught history. Initially, when Shell returned to the North Slope from its hiatus in 2006, intending to begin offshore oil development, its behavior towards North Slope residents engendered strong local opposition to its plans.  Shell assumed the North Slope community would welcome them back.  But, North Slope residents claimed that company activity drove whales away, and compounding the problem, Shell refused to accommodate village concerns.  The Shell community outreach liaison at the time illustrated the tone; “We felt that even if local interests couldn’t come along with us, the federal government had sold us leases so they’d give us the permits” (Reiss, 2012, p. 73). Shell’s approach was initially paternalistic, advising North Slope residents to “trust us” (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  Residents felt disrespected by the company, and the company’s ill-advised attempts to improve relationships failed, including hiring a former mayor to consult with the company (Reiss, 2012).  The community was skeptical, as they were aware of Shell’s past behavior and economic legacy abroad in Nigeria, the Caribbean, 	 139 and Russia.  In the view of some local observers, this adversarial approach delayed Shell’s progress and led to lawsuits (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Residents noted that over almost 10 years, Shell has modified its approach in the region.  The company replaced its community liaison, and the borough’s mayor during much of this period, Edward Itta, was a savvy strategist and pragmatist.  These men worked well together and accommodated each other on issues that did a lot to build trust in the community (Reiss, 2012, p. 145).  During the late 2000s, the company conducted over 540 meetings with coastal community stakeholders, mostly in the North Slope, to convince the local population to support offshore drilling (Reiss, 2012).  By Itta’s retirement in 2011, after six years as Mayor, he had changed the tone of negotiations.  Although Itta initially opposed all offshore drilling he changed his position after he convinced Shell to modify its original plans (Reiss, 2012, p. 274).  Itta eventually decided that offshore oil exploration should proceed, to ensure the amenities in the North Slope (Reiss, 2012, p. 250). Shell spokespeople for their part, cited the improved relationship between the residents and the company.  The company noted that it “had gone to great lengths to minimize the impact of its drilling program, including a voluntary shutdown during the fall subsistence whaling harvest by the villages of Nuiqsut and Kaktovik, installing best available discharge technology and reducing the number of wells. “These steps were taken after considering direct feedback from North Slope stakeholders” (Reiss, 2012). Shell’s relationships with regional organizations are varied.  The company is perceived to be more cooperative with Native corporations and the borough government, although the company is “still learning” to cooperate with tribal organizations (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  A veteran borough bureaucrat noted that there “used to be a 	 140 shaky relationship with the oil industry but we have learned to communicate with each other” (Begaye, personal communication, 2015). To overcome resistance, Shell employs several community strategies to sway opinion on offshore development in the region.  It uses different strategies for different groups.  Strategies include local community outreach and corporate social responsibility (CSR) initiatives for local institutions.  The company continues to conduct community meetings throughout the North Slope, although this was done most intensively at earlier parts of the project, when it needed to secure permissions.  According to a Borough Department of Wildlife Management representative, Shell is required to conduct public meetings around offshore plans required by exploration permits issued by BOEM and other federal agencies.  Other federal environmental laws, such as the Marine Mammal Protection Act, are also important catalysts for meetings to discuss different phases of the company’s exploration plans (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  Shell also engages in local spending around corporate social responsibility initiatives, including donations to the local college and hospital (Brown, personal communication, 2015). An example of a very successful, ongoing collaborative project between the borough and Shell is the NSB/Shell Environmental Baseline Studies Agreement.  Shell funds and cooperates with the local Department of Wildlife Management (DWM) on this program, which came about because many local groups said they lacked information to make decisions on development and exploration.  Shell pushed back eventually and proposed that they work together to fill baseline science needs.  Mayor Itta supported the cooperative project, although the DWM initially opposed the proposal—the Department did not want to be perceived publicly as under the influence of Shell.  But the Department eventually 	 141 acquiesced.  The Steering Committee includes coastal villages that make their environmental observations to the DWM, which translates them into “western science” and makes recommendations to Shell (and borough/community) (Jones, personal communication, 2015).  The DWM itself is staffed by both Native and non-Native professional scientists.  A DWM representative contended that this kind of public/private partnership is good and a groundbreaking new trend.  He noted that the program “allows [DWM and Shell] to collaborate on scientific research to understand the North Slope environment and marine life, to better understand the effects of development and other activities on marine mammals and those that subsist on them” (Jones, personal communication, 2015). Shell’s other strategy is to share the expected wealth from offshore development with local Native corporations and their subsidiaries.  They have done this by concluding a profit-sharing agreement with several North Slope Native corporations, which is discussed in the following section.  Shell also shares the wealth by subcontracting Native corporations for offshore development activities; including oil spill response, oil field service provision, and other auxiliary functions.  In the opinion of a local non-native borough bureaucrat, the company probably uses local Native corporations more than they would otherwise (Jones, personal communication, 2015). I move now to a discussion of how local actors in the North Slope responded to Shell’s initiative.  I highlight the strategies of the actors to promote their own interests, and how they strategically align (or appear to align) their interests with other actors.  Shell’s alliances with local Native corporations appear to have benefited all parties.  Native corporations promote oil and gas development in the state and federally.  The powerful ASRC is more open to offshore drilling than any other institutions in the borough, except 	 142 perhaps, for the borough itself.  Indeed, the ASRC and North Slope Borough government seem to agree on many of the fundamental issues of North Slope development.  Both have direct and indirect financial interests in oil development.  In terms of proposed offshore exploration, although these two organizations have disagreed at some points in the past, there is little evidence they disagree now (Knapp & Morehouse, 1991, p. 15).  While Inupiat well-being is in actuality more closely dependent on the revenue link between the Borough and the oil industry, the for-profit Native corporations have been more aggressive in their support for additional development.  The stance of the Native corporation leadership has influenced the manner in which Borough leaders have dealt with the oil industry, causing them to adopt a less adversarial approach.  (Kruse, 1991, p. 18)  North Slope Native corporations benefit unevenly from oil, however, and have different views on offshore development.  Some derive more direct economic benefits while others are more threatened by damage to the environment and competing economic sectors like fishing and tourism.  In the North Slope, the participation of some, but not all, village corporations in the Shell profit-sharing agreement could be an example of this phenomenon.  The large Ukpeagvik Iñupiat Corporation (UIC) of Barrow, well positioned to benefit from offshore development, and already a major beneficiary of Prudhoe Bay, publicly opposes environmental NGO lawsuits against Shell, saying they slow local economic growth (Blue, 2014).29 A smaller village corporation representative, however, would like to see smaller villages benefit from offshore development.  In the past, the corporation president has approached Shell directly to propose business opportunities, as well as to offer support if Shell or Conoco Phillips decided to contest the federal Critical Habitat law.  The corporation 																																																						29	UIC is the Alaska Native Village Corporation for Barrow, Alaska, and serves as a strategic platform for offshore lease activities in the Chukchi Sea, including the Shell exploration and production program. 		 143 also opposes the law. A corporation representative told me that as a landowner, the corporation is concerned about the devaluation of the land if an offshore spill were to occur. However, the representative indicated that the village corporation would look to the federal government to clean it up, not necessarily the company (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Shell has been less successful in working with tribal organizations.  Compared with the North Slope Borough and Native corporations, tribal organizations remain more concerned with environmental issues and hostile to most outside intervention—the oil industry, environmental organizations, and state and federal government.  Native organizations (both for-profit and non-profit) make a conscious effort to be proactive in offshore oil discussions and decision-making.  Several Native corporations note that they must involve themselves in the process to have a seat at the table to help guide decisions that would otherwise occur without them (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015; Willie, personal communication, 2015).  ICAS echoes this sentiment.  Their methods to control the offshore development process vary, and include lawsuits; meetings with state and federal authorities; and lobbying both as opponents (with ICAS and smaller Native corporations opposing on environmental and subsistence grounds); and in support of offshore development (ASRC on economic grounds). The Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission (AEWC) and the Inupiat Community of the Arctic Slope (ICAS), as tribal entities, remain most committed to resisting offshore development.  However, even the whaling captains that comprise their leadership are divided.  Some oppose offshore development strongly, but others support oil and gas because they need money to maintain the expensive equipment necessary for whaling (Smith, 	 144 personal communication, 2015).  ICAS and AEWC were the two North Slope groups that participated in several lawsuits against Royal Dutch Shell in the late 2000s, joining state and national environmental non-governmental organizations including, the Sierra Club, the Alaska Wilderness League, and the Center for Biological Diversity.  These lawsuits were recently resolved in Shell’s favor. 30 They were aimed specifically at Shell’s marine oil activities off the North Slope. Local “concerns included drilling's effect on endangered bowhead whales, such as a possible interruption of feeding patterns, and whether Shell had made adequate plans to deal with an emergency, such as a major spill” (Joling, 2010). Regarding the lawsuits, then-president of ICAS, George Edwardson, read a prepared statement. “Shell wants to drill wells and drive its fleet of vessels straight through the bowhead whale migration.”  “What happens if there is a major oil spill?  We have an obligation to protect our people” (Reiss, 2012). ICAS had joined the lawsuit at the request of the Native village of Point Hope, although in 2015 the village withdrew from the lawsuit.  The Point Hope village council passed a resolution noting that the decision to drop out of the complaint was “justified, in part, because the lawsuit’s goals had been accomplished.  The Department of Interior [had] issued new and more protective Arctic standards for offshore oil development that address many of the villagers’ concerns” (Rostino, 2015). ASRC issued a public statement in support of Point Hope’s decision to withdraw from the lawsuit.  It hailed Point Hope’s decision as a victory for local self-determination; the organization’s skepticism of environmental NGOs—																																																						30 According to the Associated Press, the  “9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals rejected a case that challenged federal approval of Shell's exploratory drilling plans in the Chukchi and Beaufort seas” (Joling 2010). Despite this victory, the lengthy federal approvals process and the fallout from the 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion and oil spill caused further delays for Shell.  Deepwater Horizon had a ripple effect on oil and gas activity in the Alaskan Arctic.  Shell was among the affected companies.  The Department of the Interior withdrew leases scheduled to go forward in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas (Reiss, 2012, p. 142). 	 145 shared by much of the community—was very evident.  The use of solidaristic language is marked in its comments, highlighting the efforts of regional leaders to coordinate their efforts, although this often does not occur.  ASRC’s CEO statement read, in part,  ASRC welcomes the news from the Native Village of Point Hope. …  The recent action demonstrates that when we come together as one people—free from outside influence—we can progress our region forward in a productive manner. … We share Native Village of Point Hope’s desire, along with all our other whaling communities, that our subsistence marine traditions are protected; withdrawing from this lawsuit removes that barrier that has prevented us from working together. …  Now we can sit at the table to have meaningful discussions on how to move our North Slope communities forward.  (Restino, 2015)  Even apparently natural alliances around offshore oil development cannot be taken for granted.  Relations between North Slope organizations and environmental NGOs are unsteady.  These lawsuits reveal complex regional politics.  Dynamic fissures and alliances exist between and within groups.  For example, ICAS receives much of its funding from ASRC, which supports offshore drilling.  Further, thousands of tribal members are also ASRC shareholders.  Despite a coalescence of interests evident in the Shell lawsuit, major environmental organizations are often not welcome by residents to intervene in local affairs.  Greenpeace’s “no drilling” message is unpopular in Barrow, for example (Reiss, 2012, p. 117).  A native corporation leader was blunt in referring to environmental organizations, “They don’t know what they are doing—they create a ruckus and they don’t live here” (Willie, personal communication, 2015). Shell has exploited these fissures.  In a 2009 public talk, Shell spokesman David Lawrence questioned some apparently “natural” alliances that oppose oil development.  Some NGOs often employ a tactic of litigating development projects at every stage and use a “face” of a local community to provide weight behind their tactics.  But the interests of many local groups and international NGOs could 	 146 not be more disparate. …  If you don’t think so, ask individual members of many International environmental groups how they feel about harvesting whales—under any circumstances.  If they are honest in their response, you will be even more intrigued at the partnerships they have formed in Alaska. (Lawrence, 2009)  Offshore oil development, located in the federal jurisdiction, is primarily a “federal game.”  The state of Alaska, North Slope Borough, and some of the largest Native corporations, (namely ASRC), lobby the federal government directly, and also fund lobbyists and organizations in Washington DC to promote onshore and offshore development (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  The borough government and some Native corporations including ASRC have also been involved in Alaska state politics in support of regional oil and gas for quite some time and now promote offshore oil. At the federal level ASRC lobbies on energy policy, and specifically for gas and oil drilling on its land, including areas in ANWR (Stern, 2006). In an interview, an ASRC official describes the company’s interactions with the U.S. Congress and Alaska State legislature as “educational outreach,” which they consider necessary given the widespread “ignorance,” particularly at the federal level, of the history of Native American corporations (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC described congressional level Democrats as often hostile and Republicans as too complacent concluding that Native corporations are “a success story” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). ASRC lobbies for the typical interests of business, both for itself, and the oil companies it relies on.  The organization’s current president is also a whaling captain, another indicator of complex ties and interests.  ASRC notes that it is “looking to government at state and federal levels to provide fewer regulatory hurdles and stable fiscal environment and to provide development opportunities and be partners, to ensure safety in operations for 	 147 the benefits of shareholders and all state residents” (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC notes that their diversification plans mean that if their political and economic needs are not met in Alaska, they can move elsewhere, like oil producers: “We don’t want to have ‘to pivot’ but will if tax and regulatory regimes are unfavorable” (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  Native organizations, at least ASRC, do not seem to view participation in offshore as antithetical to their desire for economic diversification.  This could be the case for the state of Alaska and other North Slope entities as well. ASRC’s strategy with state and federal decision makers is to obtain a seat at the table among stakeholders deciding oil and gas policy.  The corporation appears confident as a major statewide decision maker, noting that it, and other Native corporations “add to the Alaskan economy” and “have become the proponents of positive points of development and reinvestment in the Borough and the state” (Davis, personal communication, 2015).  In negotiations and lobbying, ASRC positions itself as the possessor of special knowledge about energy policy and Arctic policy based on Inupiat identity and North Slope residence.  The corporation, for example, recommends a framework for corporations who wish to do business in the Arctic: “Be a good steward, engage with the community, and incorporate traditional knowledge” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). ASRC also positions itself as watchdog and economic provider for the region and shareholders through its business operations.  The organization notes that its North Slope shareholders bear the risks of development, and argue that they should participate in the benefits, that it is the responsibility of ASRC to deliver: “Look at how development is being proposed, with no revenue sharing but risk borne by us” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC declares that in this context, its goal is to have a seat at the 	 148 table to make sure oil development is done safely and provides benefits to the community: “We need a seat at the table to make sure done right, done safe and done to protect traditional practices.”  ASRC recommends that companies looking to work in the Arctic look at the “capacity of people from the Arctic, with whom to partner or co-invest” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). At the state level, ASRC participates in political advocacy to promote Alaskan oil, gas and business interests, especially for Alaskan native firms. “We want responsible energy development for native American firms” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC involves itself on several specific issues at the state level, to encourage oil and gas development in Alaska, and the North Slope in particular.  It advocates for a state tax regime that reduces taxes on oil and provides for tax exemptions for oil and gas companies, in order to entice energy firms to invest in Alaska.  (Davis mentioned oil taxes in personal communication, 2015, and Gourneau mentions exemptions in personal communications, 2015.) ASRC has set its economic sights beyond the North Slope, and has broadened its advocacy horizons.  The organization sees itself as a stakeholder in Alaska, not just the North Slope, and lobbies for the economic health of the entire state at the federal level and with non-state stakeholders.  ASRC representatives note that the organization seeks to work cooperatively with a range of other stakeholders as part of its education mission: “We have the interests of the state in mind, not just the [North Slope] region (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). In 2014, for example, ASRC joined several other Native corporations (all of which are oilfield service corporations) in the state to formally oppose a ballot measure intended to 	 149 repeal Gov. Sean Parnell’s new oil tax regime.  The ballot measure would repeal Senate Bill, 21, which aimed to reduce oil taxes in hopes that it would stimulate more oil production in Alaska, but would mean less oil income would flow to public coffers.  In this case there was a divergence in the opinion of the native corporation and the North Slope Borough, which argued that Parnell’s action hurt the region by lowering taxes that flow back to the borough (Villa, personal communication, 2015).  In news reports, ASRC representatives clearly indicate they want to encourage North Slope oil production, position themselves as promoting the interests of all Alaskans, and raise the specter of “outsiders” meddling in their affairs- oblique references to ongoing tensions with government and even industry: The people of the North Slope have a long-standing, vested interest in encouraging and overseeing economic development in the North Slope of Alaska, and the success of the North Slope impacts the entire state. Accordingly, ASRC's focus is on the long term prosperity of our shareholders and of all Alaskans. We believe that unreasonably high tax rates forced upon Alaska's oil producers not only penalize the industry, but also penalize the entire energy support sector and its employees. …  In order for ASRC and its subsidiaries to be successful, we need Alaska's legislators to take action and create positive change in our oil tax structure. It is time for our leaders to reverse the trend of declining oil production on Alaska's North Slope. We do not need Outside voices determining the future of Alaska's oil tax policy. (Sweeney, 2012)  ASRC has been especially vocal in support of offshore development, and Shell’s actions in particular.  The organization considers offshore development is part of the solution to the state and Slope oil dependency, as one kind of new, sustainable oil and gas development to offset declines in the North Slope.  ASRC considers offshore oil development as another option among Alaska’s “rich resources” that can promote “responsible resource development [for] viable communities [and] sustainable economies” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015).  ASRC’s comments reiterate the implicit narrative recurring among regional organizational representatives: resistance to the influence of outside interests, and promotion 	 150 of local control in regional decision-making.  Their comments also echoed a widespread hope among interviewees that through oil-based economic development, the North Slope could preserve their traditional values: “We [ASRC] believe it [offshore drilling] is going to happen and we support it.  We want it to happen in a safe and responsible way.  It is in our cultural interests to make sure it happens” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). ASRC’s advocacy for offshore drilling highlights rifts among North Slope organizations on this issue, and raises fundamental questions about what “sustainability” means, and what the future of the North Slope should look like.  Richard Glenn, an Executive Vice President of ASRC has been vocal in his support for offshore drilling, even lobbying at the Department of the Interior to let Shell drill off Alaska’s continental shelf (Reiss, 2012, p. 103).  In response to ICAS’s participation in the Shell lawsuits, Glenn sent a public letter to the organization denouncing their actions.  The organization took a very different tone than its letter in 2015 commending Point Hope for dropping out of the lawsuit.  Complex North Slope politics are evident here—ICAS receives much of its funding from ASRC, and thousands of tribal members are ASRC shareholders. “Frivolous lawsuits that stop development in our region threaten jobs, services, dividends, and the viability of our villages at risk,” Glenn wrote (2014). He also argued that these lawsuits and alliances hurt the economic development prospects for the North Slope by threatening ASRC dividends that are funded mainly by the company’s activities in the oil and gas industry, such as leasing land. Glenn (2014) denounced ICAS for collaborating with environmental organizations, arguing that such groups use tribal leadership like ICAS as a “tool” to further an agenda that threatens responsible development and ultimately hurt the North Slope.   	 151 In 2014, the ASRC released an official statement reiterating the organization’s interest in facilitating offshore oil development in order to stimulate local jobs and growth.  ASRC president and CEO, Rex A. Rock, Sr. denounced federal delays in the offshore permitting process and linked the fates of the borough and Alaska. This decision [for a temporary delay] will have a negative impact on our region and the entire state of Alaska.  It is critical for the Department of Interior to define a clear path forward so businesses can move ahead with certainty and our people can continue to have meaningful employment opportunities.  (ASRC, 2014a)   ASRC Chairman, Crawford Patkotak agreed:  Our region has benefitted from this project through jobs and growth of small businesses.  Delay and uncertainty threaten our businesses, jobs, contracting opportunities, and instability in this process thwarts our efforts for capacity building at the local level.  (ASRC, 2014a)   Like ASRC, the North Slope borough government lobbies at the state and federal levels for petroleum interests generally, and for offshore development specifically.  A senior North Slope Borough official confirmed that the borough as an entity dealt with the federal government, and maintained a good relationship (Begaye, personal communication, 2015).  He stated that the North Slope Borough lobbies at the state to let them know what the area’s interests are, further noting that the borough and state shared “aligned interests,” including continuing “responsible resource development” even in the protected ANWR region.  For both, offshore would shore up production in the existing TAPS, but also justify lucrative new pipelines through the region (Brown, personal communication, 2015).  At the federal level the borough funds NGOs such as Arctic Power, and joins the State to promote new regional petroleum development. In contrast to cooperation with Alaska, a borough leader described its relationship with the federal government as too “one-sided” (Begaye, personal communication, 2015).  	 152 He likely refers to federal agencies and federal decision makers in Congress generally, and not the Republican Alaskan Congressional Delegation, which, in 2016 included Senators Lisa Murkowski (R), Dan Sullivan (R) (preceded by Mark Begich (D), whose term ended in 2015, and Rep. Don Young (R) (in the House). The borough leader described some points of friction with the federal government, including what he views as misdirected pro-environmental policies that interfere with local decision-making and subsistence.  He also picked up a common point among North Slope organizations and residents who oppose federal policy to “lock up” ANWR from resource development (Begaye, personal communication, 2015).  North Slope residents favor onshore over offshore development, as it is considered less risky, and because ASRC is a landowner, it will gain financially. Like Shell, the borough government adopted corporate, state and federal security and development language in its promotion of offshore oil development in the region more broadly.  A letter from the North Slope Mayor Brower to Washington State Governor Jay Inslee in 2015 provides another example of security language, this time, as interpreted by the local government.  It is difficult to tell how widely this view is shared.  Brower (2015) links domestic security to energy security, energy independence, and overall sovereignty. Limiting resource development in the US will only benefit foreign nations who have much less respect for the natural environment and who will gladly take our country’s place to fill the demand.  Brower (2015) also discusses the kinds of investment Shell will make in the Alaskan Arctic, implying the federal government has been lax in this regard.  Her argument combines elements of environmental security and traditional sovereignty.  Although she is critical of federal intervention in some ways, she invites some forms of infrastructure as well. And by not investing in long-term infrastructure for Arctic production, as Inslee’s comments espouse, our homelands will be more at risk from oil spills.  Any 	 153 potential oil and gas development in the US Arctic will entail extensive investment in oil spill cleanup and response personnel and equipment.  This includes other elements of essential infrastructure such as ports and telecommunications.  Development will also likely spur the federal government to invest in more icebreakers and to establish a permanent Coast Guard presence in Arctic waters.  These kinds of investments will only make the Arctic environment more secure, not less.  But as things stand today, we are only one shipping accident away from environmental catastrophe.  In its relationship with the federal government, Alaska strategically positions itself as the supplier of national energy security.  Alaskan decision makers at the federal level, on both sides of the aisle, support both onshore and offshore petroleum development.  They promote sources of Alaska energy at the federal level, in national energy bills and the like.  Longstanding Alaskan Senator Lisa Murkowski is a tireless advocate for Alaska energy projects; the Republican is well positioned, on the Senate’s energy committee, and includes projects benefiting Alaska, including expanding OCS drilling in U.S. waters. Alaska’s strategy at the federal level includes using the welfare of North Slope residents in its promotion of Alaskan oil and gas activity.  However, as we will see later, Alaskan politicians create set-asides for the North Slope as well, perhaps because of the North Slope Borough’s own lobbying at the State.  In a testy exchange at a recent Senate hearing regarding a new Alaskan petroleum project, Senator Al Franken, a Minnesota Democrat, noted the reduction of Arctic ice meant more oil development in the Arctic, causing more climate change and more ice loss.  In response, Murkowski cited local economic development for the North Slope as the rationale for her proposal. “Many in the North believe that the irony is the people of the north would be denied jobs, economic opportunities … while people 4,000 miles away lock them up and put them in an effective snow globe for life” (Ruskin, 2015). 	 154 Back in Alaska, state-level decision makers negotiate with the oil industry (as a whole) and individual companies on both onshore and offshore development. As McBeath et al. (2008) describe, Alaska uses its leverage in these negotiations in several ways: as the owner of (some) of the land containing oil, which it then leases to oil companies; as the sovereign, meaning it has taxation and associated powers; and as a regulator (McBeath et al., 2008, pp. 236–238).  However, as we have seen, Alaska does not always have sole jurisdiction in these areas and must negotiate with federal and local governments. Given Alaska’s dependence, many of its pro-resource development politicians have come to resent federal interference.  As Shell pulled out of the project in 2014, several Alaskan politicians blamed the federal government, including state representatives at the federal level.  The following is from an Alaskan newspaper: [Alaska governor] Sean Parnell … called the news "a textbook example of how the federal framework can negatively impact our economy," but said he still believes that "offshore energy development will play an enormous role in Alaska's economic future" after Shell's short-term setbacks are overcome. "As we move forward, I am confident Shell can be part of Alaska's bright future," he said. …  Rep. Eric Feige, R-Chickaloon, co-chair of the House Resources Committee, expressed displeasure at the news. "To me it's a great disappointment," Feige said. "We have good companies that are trying to make investments in our state and our country, and our court system and our federal government is standing in the way.  (Rosen, 2014)  Shell is among several oil companies pursuing favorable state and federal decisions regarding Arctic offshore oil opportunities.  As we saw earlier, taxes and regulation arouse strong tensions among stakeholders.  Alaska already benefits less directly from offshore than onshore development, because offshore is in the OCS which is federal jurisdiction.  However it can benefit if offshore oil flows through TAPS, which increases the value of its portion of the pipeline.  It can also tax offshore-related infrastructure on state land.  Currently Alaska receives a cut of 27% of federal revenues from leases and production from an offshore area 	 155 known as 8(g), or what is called “near shore” (a band three to six miles from shore).  Alaska gets no portion of federal revenues from offshore—the OCS area beyond six miles from shore (Ruskin, 2015). However, as Shell begins offshore drilling, Senator Murkowski is attempting to divert more federal offshore revenues to the State, and North Slope Borough.  Murkowski, chair of the Senate’s powerful Energy Committee, is currently promoting an OCS (offshore) revenue sharing program that allows Alaska a share of federal revenues from offshore oil and gas development (Ruskin, 2015).  North Slope Borough officials had a role in bringing this proposal to Congress, as it had previously lobbied the Alaska Congressional Delegation to introduce the proposal (Begaye, personal communication, 2015).  Specifically the bill would shift 22.5% of revenue to the state, and 15% of that would be split between the state of Alaska and North Slope communities.  Murkowski’s bill also would expand offshore and nearshore oil development, by requiring annual lease sales in the 8(g) zone in the Beaufort Sea and Cook Inlet and suggests three OCS lease sales every five years in the Beaufort and Chukchi Sea and Cook Inlet (Ruskin, 2015). In the federal arena, the state of Alaska is a savvy advocate and adjusts its message to appeal to different audiences.  It seeks to promote an Alaskan role in as many nationally recognized energy projects as possible.  However, it is aware of the current public opinion regarding unbridled Alaskan Arctic development.  Americans are ambivalent about Arctic development, although attitudes are in flux.  National energy politics are sensitive to uncertain political tides, which respond to concerns about domestic energy security, concerns about unemployment, and fluctuating oil prices.  Many politically charged issues are bundled in the question of Arctic oil and gas development, including global climate change concerns, 	 156 distrust of the industry (following high profile accidents such as Deepwater Horizon), and Alaska’s declining national political influence (Knapp, 2012, p. 18).  In the confusion, national public opinion is cautious about Arctic oil development, and has slowed energy development in Alaska, both onshore and offshore (Knapp, 2012, p. 17).  In contrast, Alaska is much more sanguine about oil development.  According to polls, most Alaskans support both onshore and offshore oil and gas development, believing that the state’s economic future depends on it, and that it can be done safely.  Most believe the federal government has unnecessarily and unfairly delayed Arctic oil development, harming Alaska (Knapp, 2012 p. 15).  Alaskan legislators reflect the opinion of state residents. Therefore, Alaska strongly promotes offshore oil development but is less convincing in its efforts to address environmental concerns.  Alaskan federal lobbyists work with the Interior Department to explain the “opportunities” and “value” of oil and gas offshore development; how to do it “right” to serve as an example to other parts of the US and the world.  Advocates imply that competition for Alaska’s offshore industry comes from the Gulf of Mexico, and intimates that Alaska should increase its offshore production to compete with the well-established industry in the Gulf of Mexico (Begich, 2009). Alaskan lawmakers acknowledge climate change, but propose only minor adjustments to ongoing petroleum projects, or propose new Alaska based projects to address national climate change and national energy policy.  Former Alaska Senator Begich for example, proposed an Alaska National Gas Pipeline as a way to address climate change (Begich, 2009). Begich also described Alaska as “ground zero” for climate change and claims the state has already seen the effects of this change, including in nearby seas.  He has discussed new energy technologies as a solution, although he was short on specifics, noting 	 157 the wide diversity of opinion about Alaska’s energy opportunities in the U.S. Senate (Begich, 2009). As Alaskan onshore oil reserves dwindle, there is pressure on stakeholders to explore new opportunities.  Petroleum fuels a dependent American economy and apparently ensures national energy security and independence.  In this political context, multinational oil and gas companies operating in Alaska may have more latitude to demand a favorable investment environment from state and federal governments.  At first blush, it would appear that oil companies like Shell would also have wide latitude in dealings with local governments and institutions such as in the North Slope, and the industry would have more carte blanche from higher levels of government to operate unilaterally at the local level.  However, current negotiations, such as Shell’s recent profit sharing agreement, signal that stakeholder relationships are in fact, more complex.  4.5 Shell’s Profit-Sharing Agreement  In 2014 Shell Oil concluded a profit sharing agreement with several North Slope Native corporations to share anticipated profits from new development in the Chukchi Sea.  The agreement was the latest in the contentious process to open the area to offshore drilling.  This arrangement is unique in American Arctic governance, and likely in the circumpolar sphere.  It has implications not only for future offshore development in the North Slope but also local and state economic development, and national Arctic and energy policies. I focus briefly on this agreement as a lens to examine the implications of the private sector in Arctic decision-making.  The agreement is a new way private sector actors are setting the terms of engagement in offshore drilling in the U.S. Arctic.  This agreement will influence the trajectory of regional decision-making going forward.  The agreement appears 	 158 designed to gain support for Shell’s program and reduce the industry’s fears of delays and uncertainty, by giving local residents a financial incentive to support the company.  The company likely targeted Native corporations for partnership not only to reduce government intervention, but to tap into their support for the economic benefits of offshore development, and build on longstanding collaborative relationships. Few details about the new profit sharing agreement were made public, but the little information available sheds light on private sector decision-making: 1) It was concluded exclusively by private sector actors: Shell and native organizations; 2) it had the support of Alaska’s state government and federal representatives; 3) it aligned the interests of private sector institutions, even some initially opposed to offshore development, although Native corporations invoke the agreement as a way to achieve local control and Shell does not; 4) it was the result of the longstanding relationships developed between residents, Native corporations, and oil and gas companies, even before Shell arrived. In terms of broader implications, the agreement suggests: 1) further entrenchment of oil and gas in the North Slope economy; 2) that through such agreements private sector actors play a significant role in shaping the policy landscape; and 3) the emergence of new methods for local actors to gain control over natural resource development. The profit sharing agreement was signed in July 2014, between a subsidiary of Royal Dutch Shell, Corp., Shell Gulf of Mexico Inc., and Arctic Inupiat Offshore LLC (AIO LLC).  AIO LLC was formed to undertake this agreement with Shell, and is a partnership between the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC), and six of the eight North Slope native village corporations: Olgoonik Corporation, (Wainwright), Ukpeaġik Inupiat Corporation, (Barrow), Tikigaq Corporation, (Point Hope), Kaktovik Inupiat Corporation, Atqasuk 	 159 Corporation, Nunamiut Corporation (Anaktuvuk Pass).  It does not include the Native corporations of Point Lay (Cully Corporation), nor Nuiqsut (Kuukpik Corporation).    The agreement was to share the profits from Shell’s offshore drilling off Alaska's Chukchi Sea coast. An ASRC press release states that AIO LLC “negotiated with Shell” to acquire an equity interest in the Shell offshore development on the U.S.  Arctic Outer Continental Shelf (OCS) (ASRC, 2014b). This agreement is significant, because under current federal law, the federal government would receive royalties from any oil and gas produced by offshore leases (as it is its jurisdiction), but royalties would not have otherwise gone to “Alaska natives” (Dlouhy, 2014). The deal emerged from four years of exclusively private sector negotiations, although it is unclear which party initiated discussions. According to news sources,  In 2009, ASRC approached Shell, seeking limits on the company's activities to protect migrating whales … and a piece of the economic action.  Five years later, in 2014, ASRC and six North Slope village corporations created Arctic Inupiat Offshore (AIO).  In exchange for an equity investment, AIO received the option to acquire an interest in Shell's acreage and activities in the Chukchi Sea. (Barrett 2015)    According to ASRC, however, “we worked on the deal since 1999—the details on who approached who is confidential” (Gourneau, personal communication, 2015). An ASRC press release notes that the agreement offered AIO signatories several other partner benefits, including the option of acquiring “an overriding royalty interest in oil and gas produced from specific Chukchi Sea leases. In addition, AIO would have the option to participate in project activities by acquiring a working interest at the time Shell makes the decision to proceed with development and production” (ASRC, 2014b).  Also, if AIO LLC decides to exercise its interest in Shell’s acreage and activities on its Chukchi Sea leases, it will be the manager 	 160 (ASRC, 2014b). Shell and AIO LLC would meet on a quarterly basis “to exchange information and address regional and development issues” (ASRC, 2014b). Also as part of the agreement, Shell would have made contributions to the Arctic Slope Community Foundation, a local non-profit established in 2009.  An undisclosed portion of these funds would go the foundations of each village corporation.  It is a “public foundation dedicated to promoting philanthropy among the Arctic Slope region by providing strategic development and financial management of the community-supported endowment.  Principal assets would be held in perpetuity, with the goal of achieving sustainable funding, using only earnings for the humanitarian, educational, economic, and cultural needs of the Arctic Slope region” (Arctic Slope Community Foundation, 2016a).   ASRC’s leadership includes former mayor Itta as well as current borough leaders, and the spouses of AIO LLC and ASRC directors.  Donors include long lists of individuals, as well as Shell Exploration and Production Company, BP Alaska and ConocoPhillips, which has an employee matching program (Arctic Slope Community Foundation, 2016b) AIO LLC’s corporate offices are in Anchorage.  Management consists of leaders of the existing North Slope Native corporations.  Rex A. Rock, Sr. was to lead the new company as president.  Rock is also president and CEO of ASRC.  Barrow’s UIC president and CEO, Anthony E. Edwardsen will serve as AIO Chairman.  Remaining Board Chairmen for various village corporations will have other positions on the AIO Board.  Participant public statements, although supportive of the agreement, suggest complex motivations of Shell and the Native corporations to partner in this agreement.  They reveal longstanding themes in their relationships, namely the region’s distrust of outsiders, divided opinion on oil and gas development, and competing visions for the future of the North Slope. 	 161 Shell, for its part, indicated in press releases that it undertook the agreement for the benefit of local knowledge for its drilling operations.  The Shell Alaska Vice President, Pete Slaiby notes, “A regional alliance with so many respected Alaska Native corporations provides Shell the opportunity to collaborate with savvy and experienced North Slope business partners going forward.  It also underscores our commitment to provide opportunities for North Slope communities to directly benefit from Shell’s activities offshore Alaska” (ASRC, 2014b).  The participating village corporations were supportive of the agreement.  However, the idea of the agreement as a mechanism to align the diverse interests of the Native corporations with that of Shell could perhaps cut both ways, by reducing routes for dissent and disagreement going forward.  Phillip Tikluk, president of the participating Kaktovik Inupiat Corp., said in a news release that the collaboration would “bring financial stability and alignment to the village corporations across the North Slope from responsible offshore development” (ASRC, 2014b). The President of the Oolognik Village Corporation, also a member of AIO LLC, describes in broad terms the benefits for the village corporations to be gained from offshore (OCS) development and participation in AIO LLC.  The community of Wainwright is at the forefront of OCS (Outer Continental Shelf) development, and our community has taken a progressive approach in support of responsible OCS development. AIO strengthens our approach to the OCS and provides us with a solid seat at the table. It’s a new day, where the village corporations join together with the regional corporation –it’s a new way of doing business on the North Slope. (ASRC 2014b)   Rock, AIO LLC’s new president, reiterated some of these themes in statements.  He hoped the agreement would allow the Inupiaq corporations to have more control over the impacts of drilling in their backyard and also have the opportunity to earn profits (ASRC, 2014b). “I am 	 162 humbled to acknowledge that this arrangement balances the risk of OCS development borne by our coastal communities, with the benefits intended to support our communities and our people” (ASRC, 2014b).  Rock also emphasized the important role of longstanding relationships and negotiations in providing the basis for such an agreement. “Our region has always been a leader in strategic partnerships that provide meaningful benefits to our shareholders, to our people” (ASRC, 2014b). Government representatives at the state level were also supportive.  Alaskan decision makers praised the deal, largely because it would facilitate petroleum development by smoothing relations among Shell and regional residents and organizations, aligning in some way, their interest in the project of offshore drilling.  The state also benefits from the fact that the agreement expands the private sector provision of regional economic development, both directly and indirectly.  Now, the region will benefit from the private sector not only indirectly from taxes on TAPS and any other infrastructure, corporate social responsibility initiatives, and through contracting in oil activities, but now directly, from corporate profits.  Native corporations are partners in the project, at no cost to themselves. This agreement would have shared the wealth, and in so doing, give political cover to Alaska representatives at the federal level promoting various petroleum-based energy programs in Alaska.  Alaska State Senators, Lisa Murkowski and Mark Begich, supported the joint venture in public statements.  They borrow industry language that promises offshore development as a way to link energy security with state and regional development.  Murkowski called it a wise decision on Shell's part: "Shell's decision to invest in the future of the region and its people should be applauded. … [It] ensures that the people of the North Slope Borough share directly in the oil and gas bounty off their coast.  It also gives locals a 	 163 say in what happens near their communities" (D’Oro, 2014).  Other state legislators also approved. “It’s exciting to see Alaska Native corporations take a stake in responsible development in their back yard,” said Sen. Mark Begich.  “As I continue to press the federal government for reasonable permitting timelines and a quick resolution to too much litigation, it’s good to see Shell partner with local communities and corporations.  Hopefully, we’ll see this partnership pay off in the very near future” (ASRC, 2014b). The ASRC press release cited also reported other sources of state government support: “Joe Balash, commissioner of the state Department of Natural Resources, calls the agreement a historic win-win because it directly links Native corporations to the benefits of oil exploration.  While the state doesn’t have an immediate stake in its outcome, he says drilling ventures like AIO help prop up both the Permanent Fund Dividend and businesses operating in the state” (2014b). The agreement was concluded against a backdrop of longstanding conflict and cooperation both within and beyond the North Slope.  All the actors involved in the offshore development debate struggle to control the distribution of risks and rewards in local offshore oil development.  The region wants to control its own future, and in its relationship with Shell (and the government), we see evidence of a history of distrust of outsiders. Through this agreement, regional actors would have been much more directly involved not only in decision-making around offshore development, but more directly able to reap benefits of offshore development, an important goal throughout the region, and among Native corporations.  The agreement addressed, to an extent, the region’s concerns with local autonomy and control over development.  Distrust of outsiders is deeply historically rooted, 	 164 alth