ers, commercial >shermen,
and Alaska Natives who
are opposed to the mine.
Several are especially eloquent in explaining how
much they love a livelihood that depends on
healthy >sheries, and how
much they could lose if the
mine opens.
“Salmon is a way of life,”
says Rick Delkittie of Nondalton. “We were
raised by salmon.”
Bristol Bay’s >sheries are among the
world’s most productive; as many as 60
million sockeye salmon a year can return
to the Kvichak River to
spawn. But salmon is more
than an industry. It’s how
people feed themselves; it’s
essential to cultural and
personal identity; it’s the
foundation of families and
communities. “It’s food for
the soul,” says commercial
>sherman Peter Andrew,
an Alaska Native.
The documentary relies on just a few
piercing facts to suggest the project’s scale:
“If built, the Pebble Mine would cover >
fteen square miles of watershed and
require what could be the largest dam in
the world to contain toxic runo=.” What’s
more telling is hearing vague assurances
about responsible development from representatives of Alaska’s mining industry
and the Pebble Partnership.
“All we ask is that people give us the
bene>t of the doubt,” says chief operating
o;cer Bruce Jenkins. Once the company
presents its plan publicly, he argues, “let
the data speak for itself, rather than the
emotion dictating a decision.” But the
documentary makes it clear that those
most a=ected can’t a=ord to trust only in
the company’s data and promises.
“This is a job for them,” says Dylan
Braund, a young setnetter who entered law
B E LO W: In a scene from Red Gold, Dylan Braund, Nushagak Point setnetter, says goodbye to his wife, Sarah, and son, Finn,
before heading out to fish during the 2007 sockeye season in Bristol Bay.
