At this point, global warming and its effects on the Arctic are well documented. Since temperature records began in the mid-19th century, the eight warmest years on Earth have all occurred since 1998; as a direct result, the area covered by Arctic sea ice is 39 percent below its long-term average. Glaciers are retreating and tree lines are advancing throughout the north, with corresponding damage to wildlife habitats. The polar bear has been declared a threatened species.
The repercussions aren't limited to the Arctic or the natural world. As permafrost melts, roads buckle, foundations shift, and oil and gas pipelines rupture. The disappearance of bog-laced tundra affects birds that migrate all over the globe. Worst of all, sunlight that strikes a blue ocean or brown landscape (instead of white snow or ice) is absorbed rather than reflected, further heating the planet; melting permafrost releases methane, a greenhouse gas 25 times more potent than carbon dioxide. The average temperature of global oceans has increased, causing water to expand and raising sea levels.
All of which qualifies Kivalina as the proverbial canary in a coal mine-a harbinger of circumstances that other places can expect in the not-so-distant future. While the town might be isolated, it isn't alone: According to the U.S. Government Accountability Office, 184 Native communities in Alaska are now in danger of catastrophic flooding and erosion.
Although the Inupiat have inhabited the Arctic coast for thousands of years, they've lived in Kivalina only since the 1800s. Nomadic hunters who moved with the seasons, they were ordered 100 years ago by the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs to stay in one place so their children could be educated. Until the 1960s, Colleen Swan lived with her parents and ten siblings in a sod igloo heated by seal oil and covered with hides, tundra, and driftwood.
Propane has since replaced seal oil, electricity has taken the place of kerosene, and snowmobiles have superseded dog teams. But even today, except for the McQueen School, the housing for teachers, and the clinic, Kivalina has no plumbing or sewage service. Drinking water is collected from the nearby rivers, and in lieu of toilets, people use five-gallon "honey buckets," which get emptied with household garbage at the north end of town. The average household income is $30,600, about half the state's average, and almost everyone receives checks from the Northwest Arctic Native Association and the Alaska Permanent Fund, which gets its income from oil revenues.
A lifelong resident of Kivalina, Enoch Adams, 48, has served at various times as a vice mayor, a city councilman, and a member of the relocation-planning committee. He now works for the Northwest Arctic Borough, in one of the two two-story buildings in town.
He lives next door to his 75-year-old mother, Lucy, who, as Deal or No Deal plays on TV, sits spread-legged on the kitchen floor stitching a pair of caribou mukluks. A pan of seal meat rests on the table. "You can get sucked into American culture easily," Enoch says, watching people jump and shout on-screen while dollar signs flash before them. "If it were unchecked, we would have lost our own culture a long time ago. Instead we take technology and use it to hold on to our traditions. A snow machine makes hunting and gathering a lot easier."