Such unguarded receptivity also appears to have come at a high price, for those carrying the message of Christian teachings and beliefs were firm in their convictions, and non-Christian behaviors were viewed with contempt—or worse. Archbishop Stuck was beloved by many in the Native community; he strove to respect Native culture and traditions and was thus highly regarded. Yet, when it came to the question of traditional spirituality, Stuck was firm in his highly ethnocentric and imperialist views. He writes:
The “animism” of the Yukon Indians was a gloomy and degrading superstition. It had not anywhere, I think, the horrible accompaniments of human sacrifice and cannibalism found elsewhere, but it lived in a constant dread of the baleful activities of disembodied spirits, and in constant subjection to the shaman or medicine man, who possessed the secret of propitiating these spirits and of subjecting them to his own commands … Many of the thaumaturgic stories told of these conjurors suggest the possession of clairvoyant and hypnotic powers. The people, without exception, cowered under this sordid tyranny, a prey to its panic terrors …
[T]hat the Indian race of interior Alaska is threatened with extinction, there is unhappily little room to doubt; and that the threat may be averted is the hope and labour of the missionaries amongst them. (Stuck 1916: 317 as quoted in Dinero 2003a, emphasis added)
The contempt for traditional Nets’aii Gwich’in values and culture that underpinned the views of one of the Natives’ most influential and highly regarded longtime friends and supporters is not likely to surprise the twenty-first century reader. Given the era, the values of the missionary effort, and the mentality of those who led this movement, imperialistic attitudes were to be expected. Of far greater interest here, however, is the question of how the Gwich’in were socially encapsulated into this new mindset—for it is one thing for outsiders to degrade or undervalue one’s history, heritage, and cultural traditions. It is another thing entirely to foster a sentiment through which a community begins to alter course, slowly but surely accepting foreign set of values and beliefs that vary from, if not contradict entirely, the bedrock ideologies of the past.
By the turn of the twentieth century, the conversion of most of the Gwich’in to Episcopalian Christianity was clearly well under way. Yet, as the furthermost northern Gwich’in community, the Nets’aii of the region who were slowly settling at Arctic Village continued to practice more traditional aspects of pre-Christian spirituality. In this regard, the most significant figure in this transition was Rev. Albert E. Tritt. By all accounts, Tritt may be viewed as one of if not the central founding fathers of Arctic Village, though his biography has yet to be written. Lincoln Tritt, one of his grandchildren, was perhaps best suited to this task (L. Tritt 1999), but when he passed suddenly in late October 2012 while still working on Tritt’s papers, few were able to quickly step in and fill his shoes. I have previously documented a portion of what exists in written form by Western observers (see Dinero 2003a). In addition to Tritt’s own materials, there is some unpublished material about the man and his beliefs that further an understanding of who he was and, more importantly, his contribution to the evolution and development of the Gwich’in community as it has moved into the twenty-first century.
In short, Tritt must be recognized as an exceptional spiritual leader who had numerous charismatic qualities as well as unique talents and abilities in hunting, fishing, and gathering. He was—to quote one of his grandsons, now a village elder—“an amazing man. He was spiritual and traditional and he was a good hunter” (G. James 2002). Rev. Tritt (1875–1955) was the first Nets’aii Gwich’in Episcopalian deacon to come from Arctic Village. From all indications, his conversion to Christianity did not seem to occur by chance. Indeed, his father had studied under Rev. McDonald during his time in the region in the 1860s. Throughout his journals, Tritt discusses the important role his father played in imbuing him and his siblings with reverence for the Bible and its teachings.
In 1895, at the age of 20—not at the age of 15 (see McKennan 1965: 87)—or possibly as early as 1887 according to his son (see I. Tritt 1987a), Tritt saw his first Christian Bible, which made a great impression on him. He was determined to learn more, but only in 1914 did he acquire his own copy after having used others’ copies over the years. As Tritt recalls in one of his journal entries: “When I am walking I first think all about the Bible. There [are] not any boys like me [and] that is why I think about it all the time and I am learning it quick[ly]. My father tell[s] me the words that I don’t know [and] when Sunday come[s] my father talks [about] the Bible [with me]” (A. Tritt n.d.).
It is, of course, difficult in retrospect to fully analyze Albert Tritt’s attitudes or motivations during this key period. He was young, intelligent, and impressionable, seeking new insights that quite clearly resonated for him in the Gospels. However, what is notable here is that Tritt recognized Christianity by its very roots as a means to ever-greater strength and power. He had access to the Christian liturgy in Takudh (pronounced “Dago’o”), developed by the Anglican Canadian Archdeacon Robert McDonald in the 1870s. This written version of Gwich’in well served the community for decades, providing a considerable sense of spiritual unity and identity through the written Word.
Still, Tritt’s desire to embrace Christian teachings and his eventual movement toward becoming one of if not the most influential missionizing influences in Gwich’in history stemmed, in part or in whole, from his belief that the White man’s elevated status came from his ability to read and write. Thus, by embracing Christianity and its primary text, the English-language Bible, Tritt approached Christian teachings with exceptional commitment and fervor. His son Isaac once said of his father: “He believes it pretty bad. He read the Book … all of it. And they [his friends and followers] read it too … Then he makes a Sunday school too. And he makes a service every night, every day … [and] they learn pretty quick … because it’s in their own language” (I. Tritt 1987a).
McKennan writes in his 1933 journals that Tritt literally spoke English in the manner of the Bible, something he found “most astonishing” (Mishler and Simeone 2006: 176). Tritt even wrote his own journals in a biblical fashion, following a manner similar to the Book of Genesis. For example, he began his journals by listing the many names of those who lived in the region at the time, before entering a narrative of his thoughts, experiences, and ideas. As Lincoln Tritt (1999) studied these readings, he realized that in many ways, how Rev. Tritt wrote down his ideas was as important as what he wrote:
At first, I thought he was copying the format of the Bible, but then I realized that in order to learn about our past, we have to be able to identify with it. As a result, we learn about “who we are” and “where we came from.” These two knowledges of identity are what gives us our humanity. As a result, we acquire the ability to learn instead of being programmed. This was the way the people in the past learned and the way my generation learned as children in the woods. This was where we learned how to use all our senses, sight, hearing, smell, taste, and feeling with all our nervous system. These heightened our awareness and it also made us a part of our environment.
In a 1987 interview, Rev. Isaac Tritt Sr., Lincoln’s father and Albert’s son, confirms Lincoln’s beliefs. Speaking to an interviewer from Fairbanks, he repeated, in brief, the genealogical history of the Nets’aii Gwich’in as he had learned it. The story is remarkably biblical in its basic elements but also reflects the challenging conditions that had once existed in the region and how only struggle and perseverance to hunt and gather food saved the people:
Way before, the people and the Eskimo were not friends together. Jealous I guess. So they make a war. Not Arctic Village area but down by Venetie and Allakaket. Two hundred fifty or two hundred years ago, there is war; they fight together. They killed them all. Only four woman left and one man. They made a life some way. At the same time he’s married [to them].
The first woman he has five children I think, and the second one, I don’t know how many, but the third one had a big family. The fourth didn’t have any, no children. These are the ones that come out to Venetie and Arctic Village.
So they make their living there with water, fish.