Natural Resource Management in the US Arctic

755971 research-article2018

MCQXXX10.1177/0893318918755971Management Communication QuarterlyMitra

Article

Natural Resource Management in the U.S. Arctic: Sustainable Organizing Through Communicative Practices

Management Communication Quarterly 1–33 © The Author(s) 2018 Reprints and permissions: sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav https://doi.org/10.1177/0893318918755971 DOI: 10.1177/0893318918755971 journals.sagepub.com/home/mcq

Rahul Mitra1

Abstract This study advances a theoretical framework of sustainable organizing, grounded in the communicative practices of key organizational actors. I situate this study in the enactment of natural resource management (NRM) in the U.S. Arctic, drawing on qualitative fieldwork and in-depth interviews. The theoretical framework hinges on four iterative sensitizing concepts— stakeholder embeddedness in local–global ecologies, constitutive role of d/ Discourse, rhetoric–practice tensions, and systemic risk–resilience—that guided data analysis. Findings revealed that participants communicatively constituted NRM in terms of structural challenges and best practices. NRM’s structural challenges were rooted in discursive closure of key perspectives through past events, routinization, and design; othering of important stakeholders; and framing institutional tension as conflict. Nevertheless, participants emphasized key decision-making, relationship-building, and riskmanaging clusters that enabled NRM best practices benefiting both human and natural stakeholders. The empirical study thus extends the proposed theoretical framework by demonstrating context-specific practices that enact sustainable organizing. 1Wayne

State University, Detroit, MI, USA

Corresponding Author: Rahul Mitra, Assistant Professor, Wayne State University, 585 Manoogian Hall, Detroit, MI 48201, USA. Email: [email protected]

2

Management Communication Quarterly 00(0)

Keywords sustainable organizing, natural resource management, environmental communication, qualitative methods Organizational communication scholars have long studied how organizations engage with their impacted environments for sustainable development, for instance, through environmental corporate social responsibility (CSR; O’Connor & Gronewold, 2012), supply chain management (Allen, Walker, & Brady, 2012), and stakeholder dialogue (Smith & Norton, 2013). Yet, few studies have advanced a theoretical framework of sustainable organizing grounded in communicative practice or probed the meaning-making of natural resource management (NRM) in disparate environments. While NRM— defined as the productive and sustainable use of raw materials for economic and social good (Leach, Mearnes, & Scoones, 1999)—is usually associated with extraction and conservation (e.g., fossil fuels, mining, fisheries, forestry), scholars have noted its centrality in every aspect of organizing, ranging from designing work-spaces to efficiency-generation. Owing to the pronounced effects of climate change, studying sustainable NRM practices becomes even more important, particularly in at-risk coastal or polar regions. This article thus fills an important gap in the literature, outlining a theoretical framework of sustainable organizing, grounded in communicative practices, in the specific context of NRM in the U.S. Arctic. Mitra and Buzzanell (2015) argue that organizational communication scholars are crucial to sustainability research, for their study of “the communicative practices and broader discourses within and among different organizations (i.e., corporations, nonprofits, and government agencies) that shape sustainability, make sense of the complex environmental risks encountered, and recommend innovative strategies that have successfully overcome operating obstacles” (p. 131). Accordingly, I build on recent scholarship connecting organizational and environmental communication (e.g., Allen, 2016; Cox, 2013; Liles et al., 2015; Lindenfield et al., 2014; Peterson, 1997; Whiteman & Cooper, 2000) to propose a framework mapping key communicative practices enacted by NRM actors, alongside four iterative sensitizing concepts (see Figure 2). Specifically, through in-depth qualitative interviews, fieldwork across five sites, and analysis of key policy texts, I demonstrate how NRM actors’ communication shapes both structural challenges and best practices of sustainable organizing. Moreover, this study offers insight into the political economies that underlie NRM and suggests best practices for fragile ecosystems like the Arctic. Despite severe environmental changes in the circumpolar region (e.g., coastal erosion, thawing permafrost, melting sea ice), state and federal NRM policies

Mitra

3

have not kept pace (Clement, Bengston, & Kelly, 2013; Mortensen, Hansen, & Shestakov, 2017). A legacy of colonialism, discrimination against Alaska natives, and economic domination by Big Oil have often obstructed meaningful NRM (Anderson, 2008; Sovacool, 2008). Tracing how organizations negotiate these sociopolitical restraints to enact sustainable NRM is thus vital. Below, I first propose a communicative framework of sustainable organizing. After this, I describe the U.S. Arctic context, discuss my data collection and analysis methods, and then present the results of my study. I conclude with a discussion on the theoretical and practical implications of this research.

Sustainability and Organizational Communication Organizational communication scholars have increasingly highlighted how social collectives relate with, organize, and interact vis-à-vis the natural environment for long-term sustainability (Allen, 2016; Allen et al., 2012; Christensen, Morsing, & Thyssen, 2017; Cooren, 2001; Ganesh & Zoller, 2014; Mitra, 2016; O’Connor & Gronewold, 2012). These studies largely adopt the traditional definition of sustainability—that is, the development of resources without unduly impacting future generations (Brundtland, 1987). Nevertheless, theorists have traced multiple genealogies and discourses so that audiences make sense of the environment in different and oft-competing ways (Brummans et al., 2008; Peterson, 1997; Peterson & Norton, 2007). Theoretical frameworks of participation and deliberation have been advanced, aimed at engaging diverse publics, formulating policy at both local and global levels, and building institutional transparency (Brulle, 2010; Liles et al., 2014; Norton, 2007; Smith & Norton, 2013). Lacking in this body of work, however, is a unified theoretical framework that demonstrates how communicative practices by organizational actors enact sustainability in different contexts, given the plurality of stakeholder discourses. In line with Sandberg and Tsoukas (2011), I posit that such a theory should adopt “logics of practice” that “[make] theory a derivative of practice, and thus, more reflective of the ‘richness’ of practice” (p. 339). Drawing from Heidegger’s philosophy of being-in-the-world, Sandberg and Tsoukas argue that a practice-based approach recognizes that “we are never separated but always already entwined with others and things in specific sociomaterial practice worlds” (p. 343). Entwinement necessarily shapes situated ways of “knowing” (rather than abstract and overly simplistic knowledge packets), which in turn foreground how everyday communicative practices shape organizational experiences and norms (Rennstam & Ashcraft, 2014). While communication in everyday life denotes a range of activities, such as speaking, writing, planning, deliberating, and networking, which are

4


in themselves vital to different professions and organizations, Craig (2006) argued further that “communicative practices” in a given context (e.g., dance, music) encompass broader discourses that are “a constitutive part of the practice” (p. 39). Moreover, “this ongoing communication about the practice—as standards of excellence, ethical norms, techniques, styles, and so forth . . . makes the practice meaningful and regulates its conduct” (p. 39). Thus, developing a theoretical framework of sustainable organizing, grounded in communicative practices, would not only demonstrate how routine acts constitute meaningful organizing to combat dangers like climate change, but also identify how they perpetuate conflict and social inaction. The basic elements of this framework may be extended to different activities and contexts (e.g., NRM, environmental CSR), creating a flexible “living theory.” In the next section, I build on extant research to outline such a framework.

A Communicative Framework of Sustainable Organizing Introducing the Management Communication Quarterly forum on “Organizing/ Communicating Sustainably,” Mitra and Buzzanell (2015) defined sustainability as “organizing practices—grounded in communicative action—that go beyond the preservation of the status quo to consider the contingencies and novel recombinations possible, as social entities negotiate a complex, risk-laden world” (p. 133). I am guided by their definition here, because it is rooted in communicative practice (compared with the traditional Brundtland definition), grapples with ongoing socioenvironmental risks, and focuses on both preservation and new ways of organizing. Four key assumptions underlie this definition: stakeholder embeddedness, rhetoric–practice tensions, sociohistorical interplay of discourses, and systemic resilience visà-vis risk. I build on these assumptions below, recasting them as sensitizing concepts that “offer ways of seeing, organizing, and understanding experience . . . [and] provide starting points for building analysis” (Charmaz, 2003, p. 259). Figure 1 shows the proposed framework, with these concepts depicted as four interconnected quadrants, alongside nine theoretical propositions. Stakeholder embeddedness in local–global ecologies (Quadrant 1). Sandberg and Tsoukas (2011) suggest that entwinement is key to the enactment of social practices, because “it incorporates distinctions that provide its practitioners with a certain orientation, without which the particular practice would not be what it is” (p. 343). Taking entwinement seriously for sustainable organizing thus necessitates recognizing how impacted stakeholders are embedded in deeply interwoven local and global ecologies (hence, local–global), characterized by complex power relations and disparities—both discursive and

Mitra

5

Figure 1. A communicative framework of sustainable organizing.

material (e.g., Liles et al., 2015). For instance, Kurian, Munshi, and Bartlett (2014) proposed “sustainable citizenship” to study how Māori groups engage with and resist hegemonic understandings of nature, technology, and livelihood at deliberative forums where they are often invited but paid little attention to. They highlighted both competing and cooperating tensions of rights and responsibilities, traditional and modern societies, and human and nonhuman nature. By insisting on “ecological embeddedness” (Whiteman & Cooper, 2000), rather than communities alone, the proposed framework sees actors as connected with each other and with the natural environment—a stakeholder in its own right. The first theoretical proposition of the framework may thus be stated: Instead of piecemeal consultations with stakeholders, sustainable organizing requires organizational actors to collaborate broadly at every stage. Meaningful collaboration must begin with project-planning and end with implementation and evaluation, and it should engage entities ranging from powerful governments and multinational companies to oft-marginalized First Nations (Cox, 2013; Reed, 2008). These collaborations must transcend geographical (i.e., local vs. global) and temporal (i.e., past vs. present vs. future)

6


boundaries, and connect formal policy with everyday practice, as demonstrated by Allen et al. (2012) in their study of a global supplier–buyer relationship. They showed how close relational ties emphasized global values related to sustainability, even as local interpretations shaped their actual enactment. Second, rather than merely a clean slate from which organizations extract resources, the natural environment is a vital nonhuman stakeholder for sustainable organizing. Driscoll and Starik (2004) highlight the natural ecologies in different contexts, arguing that the environment is a key “primeval stakeholder” influencing socioeconomic practices. Proximity to natural stakeholders (e.g., a riverine town prone to regular floods) and complex ecological connections (e.g., excessive transportation on a river and garbage/ chemical dumping will lead to contamination of drinking water and public health disasters) make human actors particularly susceptible. Mitra (2016) also traced the interplay of multiple agents—that is, both human actors and nonhuman actants (e.g., natural environments, policy texts)—that were either manifest or behind-the-scenes, shaping social meanings and organizational practices around clean energy. Constitutive role of micro discourses and macro Discourses (Quadrant 2). Human actors and nonhuman actants engage in everyday meaning-making through interconnected macro-level Discourses (e.g., Time Is Money) and micro-level discourses (e.g., group meetings, office memos; Mumby, 2011). Through such communicative meaning-making, actors and actants are constituted in specific ways, for instance, as being powerful, vulnerable, passive, or active. The relationship between d/Discourse and materiality (e.g., technologies, bodies, landscapes) is recursive and dialectical. For instance, Peterson (1997) traced multiple Discourses shaping U.S. environmentalism and sustainability practices, such as land ethics, conservation values, ecological conscience, economic opportunity, and capitalist accumulation, which create a blend of altruistic, pragmatic, economic, and colonist values, although bureaucracy and rational competence often win out over alternative values (Norton, 2007). The third proposition can thus be formulated: Organizational actors strategically shift among d/Discourses, depending on their stakeholder networks, to organize sustainably. Allen (2016) noted that collaborative networks “identify and connect all stakeholders with vested interests and complimentary resources, and help stakeholders create a common bond” (p. 248), so that strategically maintaining these stakeholder networks becomes key to sustainability. Moreover, Mitra and Buzzanell (2017) found that sustainability actors shifted among four Discursive subject positions, constituted through creative recombinations of multiple discourses on the ground, to align

Mitra

7

with stakeholders. Grimble and Wellard (1997) also traced how, in the NRM context, management practices emphasizing efficiency have increasingly appropriated community welfare and environmentalism Discourses to better address stakeholder concerns. Fourth, actors use framing and translation to shift among d/Discourses. I use the term “framing” to refer to the strategic depiction of issues or agents to represent (or make real) them in specific ways (e.g., framing climate change as a national security issue to mobilize widespread action). In the NRM context, actors use suitable framing to bolster their case, especially when there is little short-term dividend, or in intractable conflict among parties (Brummans et al., 2008). Even as framing naturalizes some facets of a situation, it delegitimizes and results in “discursive closure” for others through a preferential focus on past events, everyday routinization, and preset designs (Christensen at al., 2017). Another key tactic is translation, as Cooren (2001) noted in Quebec’s 1989-1995 Great Whale River controversy, which pits hydro power generation against native Cree subsistence practices. Instead of simply transposing one language onto another to explain a concept, translation signifies a communicative process whereby actors seek to understand “the other” as a dynamic equal, with access to meanings and resources hitherto unavailable. “Translating someone or something thus amounts to inserting her or him or it into a given narrative schema” (p. 184), which is subject to change, as interacting agents articulate both difference and (eventually) agreement. At stake are dynamic processes of knowledge transformation, not just transfer, as actors learn from and with each other (Liyanage, Elhag, Ballal, & Li, 2009). Dynamic rhetoric–practice tensions (Quadrant 3). Competing stakeholders and d/Discourses inevitably produce tensions on the ground. While these take different forms (e.g., managerial-grassroots, local–global), they broadly represent a gap between sustainability rhetoric and practice—so that organizations are often derided as being hypocritical and inauthentic when their rhetoric does not match with reality (Christensen, Morsing, & Thyssen, 2015; Smith & Norton, 2013). Nevertheless, when these tensions are re-framed as “both-and,” rather than an “either-or” zero-sum strategy, meaningful change can be accomplished. The proposed framework thus recasts rhetoric and practice tensions as dynamic oppositions that also reiterate each other. Following from this, the fifth proposition can be stated: Sustainability d/ Discourses serve as aspirational talk to drive system-wide change, because of rhetoric–practice tensions. For Christensen et al. (2015), the mere articulation of sustainability rhetoric by key actors (e.g., future goals, claims of existing work) sets into motion social and organizational change, because of the

8


“aspirational” nature of such talk. Sustainable organizing is enacted not despite rhetoric–practice tensions, but precisely because of them, as stakeholder perceptions of a mismatch provokes further d/Discourse and action by organizational actors. The sixth proposition ensues: Stakeholders must use their license to critique rhetoric–practice tensions. Sustainability talk alone is insufficient to enact change, unless ecosystem stakeholders participate, challenge, and debate when perceiving gaps between rhetoric and practice. The goal of this “license to critique” is to circumvent discursive closure that can marginalize important views and hidden stakeholders: “The idea is not to eliminate such discrepancies and malfunctions once and for all, but to use them to challenge existing understandings and explore new ideas and practices” (Christensen et al., 2015, p. 139). For instance, Liles et al. (2015) showed how rhetoric–practice tensions in hawksbill turtle conservation in El Salvador resulted in a top-down management system that ignored or antagonized local communities; on using their knowledge of the topography and turtle migration patterns, however, a long-term solution for both community development and environmental conservation was developed. Systemic risk–resilience (Quadrant 4). Finally, the proposed framework is attuned to “how different entities negotiate and manage the risks encountered, and regain their footing following crises events” (Mitra & Buzzanell, 2015, p. 133). Even as innovative methods are crucial to tracing socioenvironmental risks, a truly systemic perspective necessitates close engagement with diverse stakeholders (Lindenfield, Smith, Norton, & Grecu, 2014). Gauging risk cannot be divorced from alternatives that build resilience—so that, rather than polar opposites, risk and resilience are competing and iterative. By identifying risk in the system, we advance its resilience. Proposition seven thus states: Sustainable organizing requires holistic risk management—encompassing political, economic, and environmental issues. Conventional risk analyses focus on economic and environmental factors, rarely recognizing that “sustainability” and “risk” mean different things to actors at different ecosystem levels—institutional, community-level, and policy-level. Instead, I build on Bäckstrand’s (2003) notion of sustainability as a “civic science,” which sees a key role for lay publics (along with scientists, grant-funders, and policymakers) in shaping research initiatives and policy implementation. Because public perceptions and adoption are integral to the viability of sustainability strategies, proposition seven emphasizes consensus-building among diverse audiences to gauge perceived environmental risks, and viable actions social stakeholders may take to mitigate them (Bronen, 2015). Complex intersections among natural, built, and institutional

Mitra

9

environs mean that holistic risk management must involve in-depth socialecological monitoring and assessment across these systems, and even well beyond immediate geographical and temporal contexts. Proposition eight can be forwarded: Holistic risk management for sustainability grounds science in local contexts, given inadequately foreseen local specificities (e.g., geography, culture). Rather than delegitimizing science, this proposition emphasizes a more rigorous and pragmatic understanding of the multiple uncertainties involved. However, local application of scientific methods and findings is meaningless unless practitioners appreciate alternative epistemologies, rather than assume the primacy of traditional science (Liles et al., 2015). Finally, the ninth proposition states: New, flexible forms of organizing help engage systemic risk–resilience tensions. The identification of different risks—both institutional and environmental—necessitates organizational change and flexibility (Roper, 2012). Owing to the tensional nature of risk and resilience, organizational actors must “take risks” to become more resilient and bolster the broader system. Traditional structures and processes may be reworked to enable more flexible decision-making, breach (and possibly revise) conventional boundaries, and engage new stakeholders, as with “ecolocalism”-centered transition settlements for better adaptation to climate change (Ganesh & Zoller, 2014). To summarize, Figure 1 depicts the proposed framework with key sensitizing concepts leading to propositions that are recursive, drawing from and reiterating each other. While these are rooted in communication research, Figure 1 does not demonstrate how sustainable organizing is enacted through specific communicative practices, because these practices are context-dependent (Craig, 2006). Thus, in this study, I investigate one local setting—NRM in the U.S. Arctic—to empirically trace the communicative practices at stake (see Figure 2).

NRM in the U.S. Arctic Purchased by the United States in 1867 from Imperial Russia for $7 million—only around 2 cents per acre—Alaska was a colony until 1959, when it attained statehood (Hickel, 2002). Its population remained scant, despite the 1896 Gold Rush, until the discovery of oil in 1968. But this Arctic state has long housed indigenous tribes (e.g., Inupiat, Aleut, Tlingit) who weathered both Russian and American rule. Although Alaska natives were influential in petitioning for statehood, social discrimination continued well after the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

10


While both state and federal governments had been slow in terms of negotiating native claims to ancestral lands, the discovery of oil (and subsequent need to build pipelines over these lands) cemented the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) in 1971 (Anderson, 2008). ANCSA set up unique Alaska Native Corporations (ANCs) to manage 44 million acres of land for native shareholders; village ANCs owned surface rights of the lands allotted, while larger regional ANCs owned both surface and subsurface rights. Through NRM revenues, ANCs have helped raise living standards for Alaska natives but are also critiqued for their lack of transparency and eroding tribal sovereignty (Anders & Anders, 1986). After Congress passed the 1980 Alaska National Interests Land Conservation Act (ANILCA), 53.7 million acres were added to the National Wildlife Refuge (NWR) for subsistence use. Conflict continues, however, among state, federal, and native actors over sovereignty loss, reneged promises to the tribes, and economics-versus-environmentalism. The pronounced effects of climate change in the region (e.g., permafrost thawing, coastal erosion, melting sea ice) have prompted new tensions (Mortensen et al., 2017; Sovacool, 2008). For instance, President Obama’s 2015 ban on drilling on NWR lands, but allowing offshore exploration, angered both environmentalist and pro-extraction actors. With oil prices plummeting, major companies halted exploration in Alaska—prompting concern in a politically conservative state overly dependent on oil revenues. Attempts to enact comprehensive and sustainable NRM policy (Clement et al., 2013) for federal agencies operating in the region have fizzled, even as the state launched its own initiative. Despite these potentially competing moves, the underlying goal of NRM in the U.S. Arctic ostensibly remains the same: “to promote ecological, cultural, and economic sustainability by bringing . . . efforts into greater strategic alignment with each other, with the efforts of other key decision-makers, and with the needs of stakeholders in the region” (p. 6, italics added). Drawing on the proposed framework, the following research question (RQ) guided this empirical study: How do NRM actors in the U.S. Arctic organize sustainably through communicative practices?

Method Data Collection Through an Anchorage-based policy nonprofit, I gained access to organizational actors involved in NRM in the U.S. Arctic, to conduct in-depth interviews. I also sought out other participants through my fieldwork (described below) to obtain diverse perspectives. In total, I conducted 28 interviews,

Mitra

11

lasting 45 to 90 min on average, with participants associated with state and federal agencies, nonprofits, consultancy firms, native tribal governments, and for-profits (including ANCs; see Table 1). All participants occupied managerial roles (mid-level to top management), tasked with key NRM decisionmaking. Only nine were female, while 19 were male. The interviews were conducted face-to-face, via telephone, or via Skype, and were semistructured to allow participants to become conversational partners (Charmaz, 2003). Participants were asked about their organizations’ mission, NRM practices, primary issues facing NRM actors, and policy suggestions for better NRM, with examples of past, ongoing, and/or planned projects to explain their views. The interviews amounted to 410 pages of single-spaced text (font size 11). Furthermore, between 2014 and 2016, I made four field visits to five different sites in the U.S. Arctic (i.e., Anchorage, Fairbanks, Kotzebue, Nome, and Barrow) to attend NRM policy debates and workshops. Specifically, I engaged in archival research and attended conferences on polar law and energy (Anchorage), joined a policy tour seeking feedback from local communities on federal policy (Nome, Kotzebue, and Barrow), and attended conferences on Arctic energy and NRM (Fairbanks). Not only did these visits complement my interviews by enabling me to experience the sociopolitical context firsthand, I was also able to see how actors framed their key decisions for diverse audiences, observe them interacting with various stakeholders, schedule new interviews, and ask follow-up questions from my interviews. Field visits yielded 45 hr of observations, 20 hr of audio-recorded public deliberations, about 60 photographs, and texts amounting to 1500 pages (e.g., brochures, policy reports, white papers).

Data Analysis Tracy’s (2013) pragmatic-iterative method for analyzing qualitative data was a natural fit for this study because of its emphasis on communicative practices and “real world” issues. It is both inductive and deductive in that scholars allow the data to “speak” in terms of suggesting themes (and relationships among them) without assigning a priori theoretical concepts, but are also guided by key sensitizing concepts. Such concepts “serve as background ideas that offer frameworks through which researchers see, organize, and experience the research problem” (Tracy, 2013, p. 28), even as they evolve with more time spent collecting data. Rather than seeking artificially distinct categories, Tracy urges paying attention to how everyday situations are rife with overlaps and tensions, necessitating a “both-and,” not “eitheror,” mode of inquiry.

12


Table 1. Research Participants. Category Gender Male Female Organization type Regular for-profit company Consultancies (for-profit) Alaska Native Corporation (ANC; for-profit) Nonprofit Federal government State government Native government Managerial designation Mid-upper Top Sector Policy engagement Fossil fuels Land management Legislation & governance Conservation Infrastructure development Science & education Culture Water management Total

Number

%

19 9

67.86 32.14

2 5 2 7 4 6 2

7.14 17.86 7.14 25 14.29 21.43 7.14

18 10

64.29 35.71

10 3 2 2 3 4 2 1 1 28

35.71 10.71 7.14 7.14 10.71 14.29 7.14 3.57 3.57 100

Preliminary analysis of the data started in mid-2015, about half-way through data collection, as I engaged in “data immersion” by re-reading interview transcripts, field notes, and collected texts, and discussing thoughts with new research participants or people I met in the field. The goal was “to absorb and marinate in the data, jotting down reflections and hunches, but reserving judgment” (Tracy, 2013, p. 188), which helped clarify doubts and refine my interview protocol. Next, I employed a trained research assistant (RA) to help with coding, first manually and then using ATLAS.ti software, resulting in first-level codes on the basis of salience, forcefulness, word recurrence, and meaning repetition. Primary-cycle coding involved “circular reflexive processes” that progressively identified both general and more “specific and active” (p. 189) codes, often using actual words from the data to name in vivo codes. Initially, 41 first-level codes were identified, such as sharing output

Mitra

13

with local communities, scientific methods, negotiating institutional uncertainty, federal government out of touch, and incorporating community-based knowledge. The data were constantly compared (Charmaz, 2003) relevant to each code, and code definitions changed accordingly, resulting in a systematic codebook that listed key codes, definitions, and examples (Tracy, 2013, p. 191). For instance, because emphasis of scientific tools for NRM was always accompanied by calls to incorporate local knowledge, a new code was born—reflecting Tracy’s tensional “both-and” approach—called scientific methods with community-based knowledge. In another example, the broad federal government out of touch became the more specific Arctic as colonial outpost for feds, once it became clear this was the root reason for Washington’s perceived apathy. Soon after the first iteration of code definitions began secondary-cycle coding with its concomitant “prospective conjecture” and consideration of “novel theoretical juxtapositions . . . from other fields, models, and assumptions” (Tracy, 2013, p. 194). By both “fragmenting” the data and “lumping” similar first-level codes together, second-level codes emerged, identifying relationships and hierarchical categories. The codebook, compiled on Microsoft Excel, consisted of several pages, each representing a different stage of code generation as data analysis progressed. Also included were analytic memos, which recorded our open-ended questions to each other, and statements theorizing potential relationships among generated codes. For instance, the memo “scientific decision-making → need to test ongoing models of (local) application, but also implement established research in relevant policy decisions,” helped cluster the first-level codes scientific methods with community-based knowledge and local application of NRM policy together for the second-level code decision-making. When the RA and I disagreed on coding, we discussed our reasoning until agreement was reached; the RA’s contributions to this project ended with the conclusion of secondary-cycle coding. I eventually designed a “loose analysis outline” (p. 197), listing the RQ and key NRM issues identified by participants, and how the generated codes might address them. Even as I relied on extant theoretical frameworks to interpret this outline, it helped refine the constructs that guided me. For instance, owing to the sensitizing concepts of stakeholder embeddedness and constitutive d/Discourse, I probed how key structural challenges of NRM were communicatively constituted—thereby drawing on research related to discursive closure, framing, and translation. Moreover, I traced how codes related to NRM best practices, which were grouped in decision-making, relationship-building, and risk-managing clusters, might be reordered in terms of the sensitizing concept quadrants of Figure 1; this process resulted in Figure 2. Broadly speaking, in response to the RQ guiding this study, participants identified pressing structural challenges that obstructed sustainable NRM,

14


and the best practices they engaged in, despite these challenges. The study’s findings are presented, along these two broad headings, in the next section.

Results Communicative Constitution of Structural Challenges Previous research has indicated several structural challenges—environmental, locational, and institutional—that obstruct sustainable NRM in the Arctic. These ranged from political deadlock, to harsh terrain and weather conditions—all of which make building infrastructure exceedingly difficult—to downplaying the concerns of native people (Anderson, 2008; Clement et al., 2013; Mortensen et al., 2017). Participants demonstrated how ongoing communicative practices—discursive closure, othering, and tension framing— shaped these challenges. Discursive closure through past events, routinization, and design. Closure of key institutions and actions occurred through each of the ways Christensen et al. (2017) highlighted—the past, everyday routinization, and preset designs. Discursive closure through the past was apparent when participants dismissed the U.S. federal government as a colonial power, based on the region’s history. Federal laws and agencies were seen as being “out of touch,” or simply too far (geographically) removed from the scene to have meaningful information about how things “actually” are. This Discourse was pervasive even among federal workers. For example, Karen, senior manager in a federal land management agency, noted while describing the lack of food infrastructure: Even grocery stores aren’t dependable here, because we’re at the end of a food supply chain, and if there’s a big natural disaster, I can’t imagine people in the central U.S. going: “What about those people in Alaska? We have to make sure and send some trucks up there!”

Even as this Discourse emphasized grassroots action over federal help, participants admitted that it also hampered trust-building with well-meaning federal agencies and agents, and delayed key infrastructure projects. Another influential Discourse opposed “Big Government” or opposed embarking on large taxpayer-funded projects implemented by government agencies. The politics of the past melded into the present as Alaskan residents (generally politically conservative) routinely decried government intervention (especially by the federal government) in favor of the idealized “free market” and grassroots efforts to manage natural resources. Oliver, senior adviser at a policy-oriented consultancy and think tank, noted,

Mitra

15

The state is maybe more aggressive on resources development, given the nature of Alaska’s economy, but federal management systems were set up with development in mind, and it’s a matter of working out how it’s supposed to happen. When you can’t reach an agreement, one side will say: “Well, that proves you’re anti-development!” So you spend time arguing that, but it’s less of an issue than groups want to make it out to be.

This example demonstrated how government regulation and projects were largely equated with red tape and environmental conservation and posed as antagonistic to socioeconomic development. Nevertheless, participants bemoaned the lack of alternative energy projects, targeted workforce training, development of key infrastructure, and a diversified economy not so heavily dependent on oil revenues—all of which required government spending. Finally, discursive closure occurred when the NRM seemed designed to erase particular agendas or actions. Participants often described roundtables and workshops that did not include locals (especially Alaska natives) or did not take their views seriously. In line with the colonial outpost Discourse, natives condemned what they saw as inadequate representation of indigenous people on the U.S. Chair delegation to the Arctic Council, which helped shape regional policy. In some cases, although NRM emphasized stakeholder dialogue, these discussions became interminable and did not produce tangible outcomes—epitomizing the rhetoric–practice gap. Carl, who runs a policy-related consultancy, avowed, It’s a fight between local say and how much will the state retain? That was addressed in the coastal parts through the Coastal Zone Management Act. A couple years ago, the state legislature tried to tighten those laws, and, to make a long story short, the administration and they got into a deadlock. Since we could not have a coastal management plan anybody could agree to, we have now—with the largest coastline, more than the rest of the country combined— no plan. It drove me nuts because it was an endless process.

This excerpt demonstrates how, due to routinized acrimony between state and federal agencies, stakeholder conversations continued in “an endless process” and eventually “deadlock.” As a result, local communities most impacted by “the largest coastline” in the country were left vulnerable without any NRM plan. Othering key stakeholders. Participants also shut out key stakeholders as “the other”—either by not recognizing them as viable actors or downplaying their role. Most conspicuous was the case of the natural environment, cited repeatedly as an obstacle or structural challenge, but never recognized as a

16


nonhuman actant in its own right that affected NRM. For instance, participants described the difficult terrain that hindered roads and telecom infrastructure, or the soil composition and topography that challenged local agriculture. In these cases, natural actants (i.e., terrain, weather) were reduced to mere background or insurmountable physical blockade. Environmental activists were also externalized as the other—considered “foreign” and driven by lobbyist concerns in faraway (colonial and Big Government) Washington, D.C. As Eliza, engagement manager at an oil company, noted, “The environmentalists come knock on my door, and I say, ‘Where are you from? How long have you been here? And you want to tell me to do what with my land?’ Yeah, we’re not going to have a good conversation.” Her othering of the activists as “not from here” resulted in a refusal to engage in “good conversation” to elicit their perspectives, shutting down possible avenues for sustainable organizing. Environmentalists were deemed suspicious not just by actors in extraction industries but also by some Alaska natives who lamented their seemingly sole concern with conservation with scant regard for subsistence traditions (e.g., limiting polar bear hunts integral to native identity). Native communities themselves were often othered in participant discourse, downplaying their role for sustainable NRM. Only one participant mentioned politicoeconomic challenges faced by native Alaskans when discussing key NRM problems, while the rest focused on physical assets. This person—David, program coordinator at a NRM policy nonprofit—said, Maybe they’re rich in culture, but in terms of employment and education, they score low, and having policy to make sure that these communities are prepared to enter and participate to the degree they want in the global economy, that’s the biggest gap.

Tellingly, even David referred to native Alaskans as “human capital” and emphasized workforce training and disaster preparedness, adopting a parochial tone rather than regarding them as able partners to generate key knowledge for NRM. Some other participants cited difficulties encountered while engaging Alaska natives, but blamed this on their different and “exotic” customs, instead of faulting their engagement tactics. Ryan, a consultant for business and government agencies, noted, [Businesspeople] come here, the first thing they encounter is that you can’t talk to the people around the table. They don’t speak your language, literally. Second, you think you have gotten a message across that there was to be a meeting at 9 o’clock Tuesday, June 10, you get there and there’s no one there, because they’re on the Kuskokwim River harvesting salmon. They’ve got two

Mitra

17

weeks to harvest a years’ worth. You have to know those kinds of things, and that’s a really big challenge because it never goes away.

Even as this excerpt purported community engagement and learning local traditions, it othered Alaska natives as ultimately too different and incapable of being engaged with, naturalizing intercultural challenges (“it never goes away”). Ryan expected the other to learn his customs and language, posed as superior to hers (“may have gotten the message across”), rather than attempting genuine translation (Liyanage et al., 2009). Thus, while Alaska natives’ indigenous expertise and underlying socioeconomic conditions were obfuscated, their otherness was blamed. Framing institutional tensions as conflict. While I observed tensions among key NRM institutions (i.e., both organizations and policies), when participants framed them as conflicts, they usually ignored complementary relationships, productive overlaps, and creative solutions. Although NRM actors often worked together on the same site or project, mission conflicts sometimes led to turf battles and antagonistic rhetoric. Caleb, development officer at a state financing agency, highlighted the Pebble mine controversy pitting mining companies, salmon fisheries, native interests, and environmental activists against each other: You don’t want one industry coming in and destroying another. We need to find ways to dialogue how and if these two industries can exist . . . There’s probably an opportunity where we find the middle ground, but everyone’s out to the far left and far right, and no one’s in the middle where they want to see both things work together.

Compounded by different institutional procedures and NRM guidelines, competing interests among native communities (e.g., income from salmon vs. mineral extraction, potential dangers to subsistence practices, environmental degradation), and political differences that resist compromise, Pebble was divisive in Alaska. Even as Caleb bemoaned how conflict framing made the situation untenable, he perpetuated it by othering alternative perspectives as “far left and far right,” rather than potential collaborators providing complementary resources and ideas. Even some policy texts were inherently conflictual, inviting contradictory readings that paralyzed action. For instance, ANILCA and ANCSA were interpreted by native groups and federal actors as prioritizing local governance, but they were also cited by the state government in its arguments that it alone controlled historically indigenous land. Kristen, with a policy-based nonprofit, highlighted how the term “commons” itself had multiple interpretations:

18


There’s the federal commons; all U.S. citizens get to be part of that governance. You have the state, which includes all state residents, including Alaska natives. And then you have native corporation lands, and that commons is restricted to shareholders. So, Alaska’s lands are 99% “commonly” owned, but there are three different forms of ownership. It is important to understand who you’re talking about, [and] what kinds of obligations they have to constituencies, because they differ dramatically.

This example illustrated how existing laws, such as ANILCA, are often too ambiguous and complicated because of underlying nuances in key terms such as “the commons.” Different actors argued that these policies bolstered their own position (over their opponents), refusing to acknowledge that they could all be right. This conflictual framing reiterated a colonial, segregationist history, so that existing laws were seen (again) to fail marginalized communities. To summarize, participants’ communicative practices enacted key structural challenges to sustainable NRM and reified them. Discursive closure naturalized the lack of infrastructure, inadequate funding, and Big Oil dominance—shutting down strategies that sought government investment or a diverse energy portfolio. Local inputs were ignored or resulted in interminable discussions, so that existing laws became long-winded, vague, and restrictive. Othering stakeholders closed off alternative viewpoints, creative tactics with the natural environment, and genuine engagement with Alaska natives. Focusing on institutional conflict perpetuated deadlock and laws deemed harmful to native interests.

Communication and NRM Best Practices Participants identified several NRM best practices, enacted despite structural challenges, under three clusters: decision-making, relationship-building, and risk-managing. Research demonstrates how each of these are communicative—for instance, risk-managing includes visioning, planning, stakeholder consultation, and public relations (Lindenfield et al., 2014; Roper, 2012), even as decision-making involves listening, framing, and planning (Allen et al., 2012; Mitra & Buzzanell, 2017). Even as the practices (e.g., widening collaboration networks, trust-building) constituting these clusters are “activities that are commonly engaged in and meaningful . . . in particular ways” (Craig, 2006, p. 40), they relate closely to the sensitizing concepts and theoretical propositions outlined earlier—themselves drawn from communication scholarship on sustainable organizing. Figure 2 maps these practices alongside the sensitizing quadrants of Figure 1.

Mitra

19

Figure 2. Sustainable organizing for NRM in the U.S. Arctic.

Note. NRM = natural resource management; DM = decision-making; RB = relationshipbuilding; RM = risk-managing.

Decision-making. The first cluster, describing key decision-making practices, is comprised of five themes: holistic thinking, localized applications, blending science with community-based knowledge, relying on past precedents, and encouraging local organizing. The first two themes strongly aligned with stakeholder embeddedness in complex local–global ecologies (see Figure 2, Quadrant 1). First, participants emphasized holistic decision-making for NRM, which meant paying heed to intersecting strategy areas, connecting the region to the larger Arctic, and longterm planning. For instance, describing what constituted effective NRM in the fisheries context, Carl, principal at a policy-themed consultancy, observed, First, with renewable resources is sustainability. Second, on a long view, it is a mixture of environmental protection, reclamation, and clearly, economics, and it’s legitimate to ask about the basic purpose: Why we would do something, when and for what purpose . . . that we are not wiping out large biomasses for pollock and cod.

20


This example emphasized the confluence of different issues and expertise (i.e., environmental protection, reclamation, and economics) in the “long view,” to come up with a goal that was sustainable and minimized ecosystem damage. Another form of holism—broader geographic and economic connection—was evident when participants discussed developing infrastructure and protecting national security. Describing talks for a new port on the Western coast, State Representative Hillary argued that such infrastructure was vital both to connect Alaska with the global and national economy, and to safeguard the United States from Russian espionage. (She was interviewed soon after Russia’s annexation of Crimea in the Ukraine.) As Hillary noted, Watching what Russia is doing, how far ahead they are with icebreakers, what can we possibly do to not lose the foothold we have and take advantage of those opportunities? These infrastructure projects are an important foundation for our economic future.

Second, participants urged NRM applications as per local specificities, because they felt universal models rarely succeeded on the ground. This was both because of the vastly different topography and climate in the U.S. Arctic, and because different community customs affected NRM outcomes. Belinda, Chief Strategy Officer at a policy consultancy, averred, [NRM] is not an isolationist philosophy, but very locally-based. I explore it every day looking at how this might get mapped on the landscape of something that can go forward . . . I see a shift happening in that if things are not working well, more people are inclined to look at solutions for what will make it work well.

Belinda pointed out how local contexts were crucial for concrete results in her driving “philosophy” of NRM. Moreover, localized applications delivered valuable inputs and feedback on proffered solutions, “for what will make it work well” when unforeseen problems occurred. She indicated that both policymakers and local communities were increasingly on-board with such context-specific applications. The cluster’s last three themes demonstrated rhetoric–practice tensions of sustainable organizing (Figure 2, Quadrant 3). In the third theme, participants urged blending science with community-based knowledge, especially native Alaskan. Peter, Executive Director of a federal science agency, advocated including community knowledge of climate change from the onset:

Mitra

21

There was a time that a person out of Wainwright could go out with a stick and a nail on the end, and feel the ice. They’re not looking at the granulars, they’re feeling. You can’t put that in writing. They felt when it was safe to go travel on the ice, or whale hunting. The feel of that stick is very different now. So they ask, “Here’s what we’ve observed in the past; how is it changing today that is going to impact us in the future?” That’s a science question, and how do we merge those two and have them listen to each other?

The rhetoric–practice tension was evident here in at least two ways—tensions between science (“granulars . . . in writing”) and indigenous knowledge (“feeling”), and collaborative rhetoric versus meaningful stakeholder participation. Peter notably framed this tension as complementary and productive, subject to ongoing critique, rather than in conflictual terms. Communicative practices of translation were also highlighted: For a meaningful blend of scientific and indigenous knowledge, co-mingling cultural narratives is vital— both “what we’ve observed in the past” and “how is it changing today.” Peter emphasized listening to excavate these cultural narratives: “As Western scientists, we’re not good at that, we want to put the microscope down immediately. But as we listen, we hear their grandfathers’ grandfathers’ grandfather, the knowledge gained for them to survive today through those generations.” Fourth, effective NRM often relied on precedents on the ground, when existing policies were too complex or vague. Noting how other organizations handled similar problems, geographical terrains, or community engagement helped NRM actors navigate thorny situations. Brian, president of a large oil company, claimed that despite policymakers’ uncertainty about drilling technologies in the Arctic, industry already knew what to do: We’ve been here 37 years. I’ve got guys that can do field welds on pipe in 20-30 below, and have them pass X-ray the first pass. Industry is way ahead of public policy in terms of actual capability to do stuff. They have to feel their way a little with the offshore stuff, but certainly anything onshore we pull off! You’re talking about the ability to do something, and I’m thinking: “We’re doing it.”

On one hand, Brian downplayed government expertise to make effective NRM decisions and elevated the role-played by industry engineers and managers in gauging risk. On the other hand, a complementary tension between rhetoric and practice was also evident: Restricted by policies, NRM was nevertheless enacted on the ground based on past experience (“here for 37 years”) and knowledge gained in other contexts (“we’re doing it”). Moreover, in subsequent discussions with policymakers, that practical knowledge became enshrined as policy.

22


Finally, participants emphasized local organizing for transformation to ensure that NRM benefited key stakeholders. Describing his role as CEO of an ANC, Ian said, It’s about making it better and trying to improve the circumstances in our villages, as it relates to underemployment and lack of opportunity. We thought [NRM] was a good vehicle to press for building infrastructure by working together. Our interest isn’t just the bottom line, but just being part of the equation, the solution, and asserting ourselves.

Ian linked the ANC’s NRM actions directly to social development in the villages, despite (or perhaps because of) persistent critique that, their rhetoric notwithstanding, ANCs did not benefit local communities as much as native shareholders (who may not live in those communities anymore). In recent years, however, as a result of this critique and with oil prices falling globally, some ANCs (like Ian’s) emphasized local connections and native empowerment in their mission statements (“being part of the equation . . . and asserting ourselves”). Relationship-building. The second cluster consisted of five themes related to forging meaningful stakeholder relationships to sustain NRM. They were trust-building, translating for broader publics, stressing personal ties, collaborating widely, and collective pan-Arctic identity. The first three practices demonstrated how d/Discourse constitutes NRM through actors’ framing and translating strategies (Figure 2, Quadrant 2). First, NRM actors engaged in long-term trust-building with local communities by investing time and other resources. For instance, Ian reached out to native villages well beyond his ANC’s territory: “Just for the seven village corporations I represent, what was really cool about going out to [ANC-2] was we’re breaking down barriers, and established a line of communication. We wish more corporations would be part of the process!” For Ian, this process meant actively participating in social activities without expecting instant approval of planned projects, sharing information with local leaders, and treating native communities as equal partners (“breaking barriers”) for NRM. Second, in addition to using community knowledge for NRM policy, actors were expected to translate scientific information and findings for broader publics. Local communities should be able to gauge the reasoning behind specific NRM methods and policies that affected their way of life, otherwise policy implementation would not succeed. Vanessa, Executive Assistant at a native nonprofit focused on environment and culture, noted,

Mitra

23

We definitely stay in communication with communities we represent. For the ones we have specific projects, we try to travel and meet face-to-face. An appointed steering committee member is the person we go to with questions, or with wanting help, or drafting reports, and say, “Hey, this is what we’re doing, where it’s going to go, this is what we’ve gotten written up,” and get their input.

Despite some overlap with trust-building here (“definitely stay in communication”), Vanessa highlighted an institutionalized process of engagement to translate difficult scientific information, whether it was helping to draft reports or getting feedback to ensure widespread local comprehension. Other examples showed how translation went beyond finding simple terms and delved into Discourses central to Alaskans’ lived experiences. For example, Peter used oral histories both to solicit input and share research: “We’re using these observations of people telling us what they’ve seen in the past and then helping them understand what they’re likely to see into the future.” In this process, scientists and local communities share with and learn from each other, despite the different epistemologies guiding them. Third, participants recast NRM priorities through personal relationships, engaging in a mode of translation that made NRM relatable compared with bureaucratic rules. The tactic helped participants like Ryan develop empathy for stakeholders. Ryan said, “Well, I don’t know if we should fund Kaktovik schools as much. Wait a minute, my friend [X] lives there and he’s got two little kids. I know this guy, his family. Why wouldn’t I [fund it]?” Moreover, developing close ties among NRM actors allowed them to appreciate the issues facing each other, and facilitated quick action when needed. Rebecca, directing a state agency for environmental response, reflected on how people in “the spill response world” constantly collaborated: “We get together weekly to work through issues, and have a very strong relationship, and are continually working together to make sure we have a unified approach to spill-response and preparedness. In my world, it’s very tight.” Recasting NRM in terms of this “tight” relationship thus resulted in a coherent, “unified approach” that epitomized best practice for Rebecca and her colleagues. The last two themes of this cluster stemmed from actors’ embeddedness in local–global ecologies (see Figure 2, Quadrant 1). The fourth theme saw actors striving to widen networks for NRM collaboration to provide greater resources and generate creative ideas. Sam, national security expert at a policy nonprofit, described how meeting a high-ranking state politician helped him connect with key collaborators on a white paper: That also gave me a connection to [A], and then [A] ran a series of policy forums where they bring together different people. So I’ve been participating

24


in basically every function they’ve had. It was a chance to expand my horizons, start networking and meet other people working the same issues.

Widening collaboration networks led to broader interpretations of organizational missions, and what Ryan termed “creative tensions,” rather than the conflictual framing that often stymied NRM. Harold, regional supervisor of a federal land management agency, recalled how this tactic reduced conflict among recreational and subsistence (native) hunters: If we told, “You can’t drop off [recreationists] in this area until after a certain date,” they would just bump their business over onto adjacent [B] lands, and so we hadn’t solved anything. So we spent some time with [B] on different jurisdictions and additional coordination needs. Having different jurisdictions here makes much more coordination necessary, and so [B] embarked on a process to adopt something similar to ours. We weren’t just shifting a bunch of sports hunters from our land onto theirs.

Harold’s example showed how stakeholder embeddedness in local specificities (i.e., different agency jurisdictions, competing hunter goals) required broader collaboration on the ground, above and beyond formal roles. By stressing open-ended collaboration, the agencies could better coordinate and change the terms of their relationship, as the situation further developed. Fifth, some actors stressed pan-Arctic collective identity, based on familial connections and similar ecologies. ANCs, native nonprofits, and tribal leaders especially framed themselves as representing a unified Indigenous Arctic People at policy forums. Vanessa’s organization advocated for Aleut across the region at Arctic Council, despite government mistrust: “We also represent Russian Aleuts,” she said. “Trying to find support for them to be involved, their voice to be heard, is definitely a struggle. Even though we’re a U.S.based nonprofit, we represent both.” Notably, some nonnative actors also stressed pan-Arctic identity on the basis of shared geography, topography, and climate, while negotiating with federal agencies. These state agencies, nonprofits, and think tanks used this collective identity, along with the Alaska-as-colony Discourse, to push for policy concessions—providing limited respite from discursive closure. Risk-managing. The third cluster focused on risk management procedures and processes and included the following themes: cultivating organizational flexibility, being attuned to events beyond the local context, and planning NRM with diminishing resources. Each of these practices aligned with systemic risk–resilience tensions (see Figure 2, Quadrant 4). First, participants noted that both policy-related and

Mitra

25

environmental uncertainties required organizational actors to be flexible in form and process to deal with exigencies, delays, and complex internal hierarchies. Brian recounted, I think we have about 24 [federal] regulatory agencies, and it’s a challenge getting them on the same page. That’s an issue for anybody that operates up here—getting a clear, consistent answer to a question in a timely manner. We’re in a little more fortunate position because we’ve been doing stuff for a long time, but it still can get contentious.

For Brian, cultivating organizational flexibility helped deal with the uncertainty (“getting a clear, consistent answer”) and avoid the conflictual framing that hampered NRM (“challenge getting them on the same page”), which even past precedents (“doing stuff for a long time”) did not always solve. Flexibility was crucial for NRM actors to deal with potential lawsuits, administrative delays, bottlenecks, and mission conflicts that resulted from both environmental and institutional complexities. For example, Sam cited searchand-rescue efforts: It’s a long way from Kodiak to Barrow, and even further out on the ice. So the first responder might be local search-and-rescue entities, not the Coast Guard. They would be able to bring more forces to bear, but North Slope might be first to get [there], because they’re closer. Say it’s a ship carrying hazardous cargo that might be a threat to security, but there’s no Coast Guard close enough. It’s going to be a private company that’s closest. So everybody depends on other organizations for supplemental resources. No way anybody has enough resources up here to do it all by themselves.

Here, both natural ecology and institutional jurisdiction conspired to create risk (loss of life, economic loss, and national security), which necessitated interagency and public–private collaboration to build system-wide resilience. In turn, this required NRM actors to recognize their embeddedness with other stakeholders, trust-building, and local organizing efforts—connecting this theme to both decision-making and relationship-building. Second, participants emphasized being attuned to events beyond immediate geographical and temporal contexts that might influence NRM. Stemming from interconnected stakeholder networks, this practice highlighted how risk–resilience were dialectical and tensional. Several participants discussed BP’s 2010 Deepwater Horizon spill in the Gulf of Mexico as increasing risk of political regulation, while suggesting lessons to prevent a similar disaster in the Arctic. Actors also stressed transcending temporal boundaries, noting how environmental risks might augur future benefits (e.g., drilling for oil in

26


thawing permafrost or new shipping routes due to melting sea ice). Mark, Program Director for a policy-based nonprofit, noted, On the climate change and economics [side] there’s also opportunities. With the melting permafrost, hopefully it will be easier to build homes that don’t have to be on pilings. If you go to any of the villages, they’re all built aboveground, so they can level the buildings when permafrost melts in the summer.

He discussed “opportunities” as a result of climate change for building affordable housing in native Alaskan, illustrating the tensional nature of risk– resilience by tracing future possibilities of resilience, despite present risks. This example also demonstrated that it was not just oil companies, which might be more prone to dismiss the drawbacks of climate change, articulating these anticipated windfalls. Finally, participants urged planning NRM with diminishing natural resources (e.g., minerals, salmon population) in mind due to climate change. Harold noted how irregular and diminishing caribou herds affected Alaska natives, hunters, and conservationists: “Whenever there’s a limited number of animals and limited space, it’s a resource problem. User groups have to figure out how to proceed, especially when they’re publicly owned. It takes extra coordination.” For Harold, even as climate change intensified existing conflicts (e.g., subsistence vs. recreation) by reducing available resources, adequate planning required “extra coordination”: cultivating flexibility, being attuned to external events, and collaborating widely. Belinda also stressed community inputs for risk-planning, citing responses to coastal erosion: Before you do anything or spend money, ask, “What would this mean if the sea levels rise a couple of feet in the next 50 years?” It means these buildings no longer would exist. Let’s not build them there then. Schools are still being funded in small communities on the beach, but it’s eroding. $100 million for a school in Savoonga for 200 kids?

Far from advocating the denial of crucial services to underserved communities, Belinda urged planners and scientists to include Alaska natives in riskmanaging and decision-making, and give them adequate say in the matter. Pragmatically, such community-based risk–resilience planning avoided throwing good money after bad and rebuilding on doomed sites. To summarize participants’ enactment of NRM best practices (i.e., decision-making, relationship-building, and risk-managing), Figure 2 transposed these practices on the proposed theoretical framework. While Figure 1 showed the broader sensitizing concepts and guiding propositions of this

Mitra

27

framework, but left the specific communicative practices at stake to be determined as per local contexts, Figure 2 traced these practices relevant to Arctic NRM. Moreover, the preceding section showed that a communicative practice may fit more than one quadrant; for instance, pan-Arctic collective identity clearly foregrounded stakeholder embeddedness in local–global ecologies, but also demonstrated (to a lesser degree) systemic risk–resilience tensions and the constitutive role of d/Discourse. The boundaries between these communicative practices for sustainable organizing were thus fluid.

Discussion NRM is at the frontlines of sustainable organizing and focuses on combating and adapting to complex environmental changes—not just in fragile ecosystems like the Arctic, but worldwide. This study examined how key organizational actors in the U.S. Arctic practice NRM; participants engaged, through interviews and follow-up meetings during field visits, in “thematic deliberation, where the logic of practice momentarily becomes manifest and illuminated” (Sandberg & Tsoukas, 2011, p. 346). The outlined theoretical framework of sustainable organizing hinges on four iterative concepts— stakeholder embeddedness, constitutive d/Discourse, rhetoric–practice tensions, and systemic risk–resilience (see Figure 1)—that guided my data analysis. Results revealed that the structural challenges of NRM are rooted in specific communicative practices—discursive closure of key perspectives, othering marginalized stakeholders, and conflictual framing of institutional tensions. Nevertheless, participants emphasized key NRM best practices of decision-making, relationship-building, and risk-managing to benefit both human and natural stakeholders (see Figure 2). In this section, I discuss the main theoretical and practical implications of this research.

NRM Actor Orientations The NRM actors who participated in this study articulated their common embeddedness in local and global ecologies, which shaped their understanding of the natural environment, organizational missions, and potential impacts. First, this suggests that actors’ placement and connections within these ecologies influence their selection of NRM strategies. For instance, for-profit companies might adopt more decision-making and risk-managing tactics and less relationship-building tactics compared with nonprofits or government agencies. Second, specific industries and contexts (e.g., fisheries, fossil fuel, land management) are likely to affect actors’ NRM orientation, privileging specific communicative practices (or combinations thereof) over others. Extant

28


research on this issue is somewhat muddy. For example, Mitra and Buzzanell’s (2017) study on sustainability practitioners’ discursive positioning saw little variation among organizational types, but concluded that managerial orientations shift depending on specific stakeholders engaged. This suggests that, rather than static and monolithic, actor orientations toward NRM evolve as they face new tasks, audiences, and geographical and temporal contexts. Third, also likely to shape this mix are the established norms of the formal or informal coalitions, composed of diverse institutions, which organizations join to enact sustainability (e.g., UN Global Compact; see Allen, 2016). Organizational actors form complex communities of practice with both convergent and divergent ethos and practices that shape their identities—similar to the pan-Arctic framing traced here—and their actions on the ground. Future research might employ a variety of methods, such as social network analysis or ethnography, to trace how NRM actor orientations are formed, maintained, and evolve as a result of these collaborations and their embeddedness in communities of practice.

Environmental Actants This study highlights how NRM is shaped by dialectical tensions between d/ Discourse and materiality, and human actors and environmental actants (Liles et al., 2015). Participants invested the environment—as rugged terrain, vast geography, harsh climate, or rapid erosion (for instance)—with great force and power, enabling some practices but limiting others (e.g., coastal village reconstruction). However, it was rarely recognized as an active interactant— its agency, as participants understood it, was restricted to demonstrations of brute force (e.g., inundating villages), or complex biomaterial linkages among creatures and ecological features (e.g., the water cycle). Even native participants, who might draw from indigenous knowledge systems, did not describe the environment in terms of sentience, capable of active decision-making. This study thus disrupts romantic notions of indigenous meaning-making around the environment as primeval stakeholder (Driscoll & Starik, 2004), noting that 21st-century socioeconomic concerns and Discourses make it difficult for even alternative organizations (like ANCs and village governments) grounded in native knowledge systems to regard the environment as a true equal, in terms of sentience, power, and agency. In fact, a more pressing issue may be to unpack how human actors and environmental actants tussle in everyday communication and policy discourse, both curtailing and reinforcing each other’s agency. Future research might unpack deeper meaning-making around agency—specifically, how power, sentience, and systemic relationships figure herein—in the context of nonhuman environmental actants.

Mitra

29

Negotiating Sociopolitical Challenges This study also highlights the inexorable sociopolitical tensions that characterize sustainable organizing, such as the constitution of outsider–insider, and scientific–indigenous knowledge. Unable to embrace tensions among organizational missions and policies, several participants focused on purist outcomes, resulting in “win–lose” outcomes. However, this study also suggests ways of engaging these sociopolitical challenges through communicative practices that prioritize creative tensions and discursive openings (Christensen et al., 2015). For instance, translating scientific information for broader publics addresses conflicts between scientific and indigenous knowledge, while recasting NRM through personal ties disrupted outsider/insider tensions, and framing identity as pan-Arctic collective enabled strategic negotiations with powerful government agents. Inclusion-oriented engagement, trust-building, and broad-based networking brought multiple actors to bear on problemsolving and distributed work effectively, while respecting their underlying differences. A framework of tensions as ontological, inevitable in social experience, yet fluid and reified by Discourses intersecting over time and space, thus comes to the fore. Even beyond the Arctic context, the polysemous “commons” (Hickel, 2002) may be deconstructed to privilege alternative, indigenous meanings of openness and community, while acknowledging ugly colonial and industrial histories, to mobilize grassroots activists and bridge traditional sociopolitical divides. While I used a pragmatic-iterative mode of data analysis (Tracy, 2013) here, other scholars might employ critical discourse analysis to trace how d/Discourse intersections shape the meaning of NRM in various sociopolitical contexts.

Collective Identity and Translation Finally, I focus on two communication tactics with enormous practical significance for sustainable organizing beyond the Arctic (e.g., water resources in Flint, MI). First, highlighting collective identity management, Allen (2016) notes that “conversations regarding who we are and what we do . . . go on to become texts capable of guiding subsequent interactions” (p. 251). Cultivating collective identity can be most effective and meaningful for organizational actors, when it builds on organizational learning, creative tensions, and collaborative practices (e.g., co-identifying a joint role for government agencies beyond traditional jurisdictions, as I noted). Second, actors should consider institutionalizing their translation activities as a broader reimagining of the natural environment and social behavior, listening to diverse stakeholders. Rather than “dumbing down” complex information, translation involves

30


dialogic engagement, and co-creating stories with the other. Sustainable organizing thus challenges practitioners to go further than public communication of the facts by focusing on dialogic meaning-making. Some obvious limitations of this study pertain to its qualitative research design, such as its lack of generalizability, and the cross-sectional nature of data gathered, so that longitudinal trends cannot be surmised from my findings. Although participants might have been predisposed to specific contributions, owing to my connections with the local organization that helped me enter the field, through my fieldwork, I reached out to actors well beyond my initial contact list and immersed myself in the sociopolitical context. Thus, despite these limitations, this study unpacks some vital structural challenges to NRM and key best practices for a more sustainable future. Perhaps, most importantly, it engages in practice-based theory-building (Sandberg & Tsoukas, 2011) to help understand how sustainable organizing can unfold in situated ways. Not only does the proposed framework provide “a particular way of interpreting practical knowledge, a way of focusing attention on important details of a situation, and weaving them into a web of concepts that can give the experience a new layer of meaning, reveal previously unnoticed connections, and suggest new lines of action” (Craig, 2006, p. 43), it reminds us that practice-based theories are fundamentally normative and encourages us to interrogate the ideals implied by sustainable organizing. Acknowledgments The author would like to acknowledge PhD student Stephen L. Mitchell, who assisted with coding some of the collected data for this project. Finally, thanks are due to Patty Sias, Boris Brummans, and the anonymous reviewers for their feedback and guidance in shaping this article.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was partially funded by the College of Fine, Performing & Communication Arts Dean’s Research Grant and by a Humanities Center Faculty Fellowship, at Wayne State University.

ORCID iD Rahul Mitra

https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0238-0660

Mitra

31

References Allen, M. (2016). Strategic communication for sustainable organizations. New York, NY: Springer. Allen, M. W., Walker, K. L., & Brady, R. (2012). Sustainability discourse within a supply chain relationship: Mapping convergence and divergence. International Journal of Business Communication, 49, 210-236. doi:10.1177/0021943612446732 Anders, G. C., & Anders, K. K. (1986). Incompatible goals in unconventional organization: The politics of Alaska Native Corporations. Organization Studies, 7, 213-233. doi:10.1177/017084068600700301 Anderson, R. T. (2008). Alaska native rights, statehood, and unfinished business. Tulsa Law Review, 43, 17-41. Bäckstrand, K. (2003). Civic science for sustainability: Reframing the role of experts, policy-makers and citizens in environmental governance. Global Environmental Politics, 3, 24-41. doi:10.1162/152638003322757916 Bronen, R. (2015). Climate-induced community relocations: Using integrated socialecological assessments to foster adaptation and resilience. Ecology & Society, 20(3). doi:10.5751/ES-07801-200336 Brulle, R. J. (2010). From environmental campaigns to advancing the public dialog: Environmental communication for civic engagement. Environmental Communication, 4, 82-98. doi:10.1080/17524030903522397 Brummans, B. H. J. M., Putnam, L. L., Gray, B. J., Hanke, R., Lewicki, R. J., & Wiethoff, C. (2008). Making sense of intractable multiparty conflict: A study of framing in four environmental disputes. Communication Monographs, 75, 25-51. doi:10.1080/03637750801952735 Brundtland, H. (1987). Our common future. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press for the World Commission on Environment and Development. Charmaz, K. (2003). Grounded theory: Objectivist and constructivist methods. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Strategies for qualitative inquiry (2nd ed., pp. 249-291). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Christensen, L. T., Morsing, M., & Thyssen, O. (2015). Discursive closure and discursive openings in sustainability. Management Communication Quarterly, 29, 135-144. doi:10.1177/0893318914563574 Christensen, L. T., Morsing, M., & Thyssen, O. (2017). License to critique: A communication perspective on sustainability standards. Business Ethics Quarterly, 27, 239-262. doi:10.1017/beq.2016.66 Clement, J. P., Bengston, J. L., & Kelly, B. P. (2013). Managing for the future in a rapidly changing Arctic: A report to the President. Interagency Working Group on Coordination of Domestic Energy Development and Permitting in Alaska. Retrieved from https://www.afsc.noaa.gov/publications/misc_pdf/iamreport.pdf Cooren, F. (2001). Translation and articulation in the organization of coalitions: The Great Whale River case. Communication Theory, 11, 178-200. doi:10.1111/j.1468-2885.2001.tb00238.x Cox, R. (2013). Environmental communication and the public sphere (3rd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.

32


Craig, R. T. (2006). Communication as practice. In G. J. Shepherd, J. St. John, & T. Striphas (Eds.), Communication as . . . : Perspectives on theory (pp. 38-48). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Driscoll, C., & Starik, M. (2004). The primordial stakeholder: Advancing the conceptual consideration of stakeholder status for the natural environment. Journal of Business Ethics, 49, 55-73. doi:10.1023/B:BUSI.0000013852.62017.0e Ganesh, S., & Zoller, H. M. (2014). Organizing transition: Principles and tensions in eco-localism. In M. Parker, G. Cheney, V. Fournier, & C. Land (Eds.), The Routledge companion to alternative organization (pp. 236-250). New York, NY: Routledge. Grimble, R., & Wellard, K. (1997). Stakeholder methodologies in natural resource management: A review of concepts, contexts, experiences and opportunities. Agricultural Systems, 55, 173-193. doi:10.1016/S0308-521X(97)00006-1 Hickel, W. J. (2002). Crisis in the commons: The Alaskan solution. Anchorage, AK: ICS Press. Kurian, P. A., Munshi, D., & Bartlett, R. V. (2014). Sustainable citizenship for a technological world: Negotiating deliberative dialectics. Citizenship Studies, 18, 435-451. doi:10.1080/13621025.2014.905284 Leach, M., Mearnes, R., & Scoones, I. (1999). Environmental entitlements: Dynamics and institutions in community-based natural resource management. World Development, 27, 225-247. doi:10.1057/9781137271631_16 Liles, M. J., Peterson, M. J., Lincoln, Y. S., Sminoff, J. A., Gaos, A. R., & Peterson, T. R. (2015). Connecting international priorities with human well-being in lowincome regions: Lessons from hawksbill turtle conservation in El Salvador. Local Environment, 20, 1383-1404. doi:10.1080/13549839.2014.905516 Lindenfield, L., Smith, H. M., Norton, T., & Grecu, N. C. (2014). Risk communication and sustainability science: Lessons from the field. Sustainability Science, 9, 119-127. doi:10.1007/s11625-013-0230-8 Liyanage, C., Elhag, T., Ballal, T., & Li, Q. (2009). Knowledge communication and translation: A knowledge transfer model. Journal of Knowledge Management, 13, 118-131. doi:10.1108/13673270910962914 Mitra, R. (2016). Reconstituting “America”: The clean energy economy ventriloquized. Environmental Communication, 10, 269-288. doi:10.1080/17524032.20 15.1047885 Mitra, R., & Buzzanell, P. M. (2015). Introduction: Organizing/communicating sustainably. Management Communication Quarterly, 29, 130-134. doi:10.1177/0893318914563573 Mitra, R., & Buzzanell, P. M. (2017). Implementing sustainability in organizations: How practitioners discursively position work. Management Communication Quarterly. Advance online publication. doi:10.1177/0893318917724234 Mortensen, L., Hansen, A. M., & Shestakov, A. (2017). How three key factors are driving and challenging implementation of renewable energy systems in remote Arctic communities. Polar Geography, 40, 163-185. doi:10.1080/1088 937X.2017.132975

Mitra

33

Mumby, D. K. (2011). What’s cooking in organizational discourse studies? A response to Alvesson and Kärreman. Human Relations, 64, 1147-1161. doi:10.1177/0018726711408367 Norton, T. (2007). The structuration of public participation: Organizing environmental control. Environmental Communication, 1, 146-170. doi:10.1080/ 17524030701642546 O’Connor, A., & Gronewold, K. L. (2012). Black gold, green earth: An analysis of the petroleum industry’s CSR environmental sustainability discourse. Management Communication Quarterly, 27, 210-236. doi:10.1177/0893318912465189 Peterson, T. R. (1997). Sharing the earth: The rhetoric of sustainable development. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Peterson, T. R., & Norton, T. (2007). Discourses of sustainability in today’s public sphere. In S. K. May, G. Cheney, & J. Roper (Eds.), The debate over corporate social responsibility (pp. 351-464). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Reed, M. S. (2008). Stakeholder participation for environmental management: A literature review. Biological Conservation, 141, 2417-2431. doi:10.1016/j.biocon.2008.07.014 Rennstam, J., & Ashcraft, K. L. (2014). Knowing work: Cultivating a practice-based epistemology of knowledge in organization studies. Human Relations, 67, 3-25. doi:10.1177/0018726713484182 Roper, J. (2012). Environmental risk, sustainability discourses, and public relations. Public Relations Inquiry, 1, 69-87. doi:10.1177/2046147X11422147 Sandberg, J., & Tsoukas, H. (2011). Grasping the logic of practice: Theorizing through practical rationality. Academy of Management Review, 36, 338-360. doi:10.5465/ amr.2009.0183 Smith, H. M., & Norton, T. (2013). “That’s why I call it a task farce”: Organizations and participation in the Colorado Roadless Rule. Environmental Communication, 7, 456-474. doi:10.1080/17524032.2013.813563 Sovacool, B. K. (2008). Spheres of argument concerning oil exploration in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge: A crisis of environmental rhetoric? Environmental Communication, 2, 340-361. doi:10.1080/17524030802396745 Tracy, S. J. (2013). Qualitative research methods: Collecting evidence, crafting analysis, communicating impact. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Whiteman, G., & Cooper, W. H. (2000). Ecological embeddedness. Academy of Management Journal, 43, 1265-1282. doi:10.2307/1556349

Author Biography Rahul Mitra (PhD, Purdue University) is an assistant professor in the Department of Communication at Wayne State University, USA. His research focuses on sustainable organizing, corporate responsibility, and careers/work discourses. His work has appeared in outlets such as Human Relations, Environmental Communication, Communication Theory, and Journal of Business Ethics.