Alaska News Brief May 2025—Live like a hermit crab
I’d like to live like a hermit crab, carrying my protective shell with me at all times. Seriously. I feel like it’s just easier to stay in the house. The idea of emerging into “all of that” out there—by which I mean, the chaos and division, the conspiracy theories and self-serving lies, the very real corruption and violence and unravelling of our constitutional ideals—well, all of that just feels hard sometimes.
Greenmark hermit crab near Homer. Photo by Erin McKittrick
I’m a lawyer, so there’s a lot to feel angry about, concerned about, appalled about, and it’s easy to fall into friendly conversations that transform into doom. [Insert Darth Vader theme]
And, honestly, hearing about people getting fired, threatened, harassed, demeaned, detained, imprisoned, and all the other brutal things happening for chaos’ sake breaks my heart. The carelessness over people’s rights and lives hurts.
Everyone has a reason to hole up, I guess. Ah, to be a marmot, or a musk rat, or a vole! But truth is, these beings don’t hole up to avoid each other; they hole up to hunker down through winter, evade hungry foxes, owls and lynx, and to make it through the good and tough times together.
They gather in their burrows and holes, and they chatter outside of them. I guess you could say a bunch of folks did just that earlier this month at a mining conference aimed at supporting Alaska community members and organizations who oppose mining projects with real consequences to people’s lives.
Getting out of our holes and chattering matters.
Hoary marmot stepping out in Wrangell St. Elias. Photo by Jacob W Frank.
No, “pissed-off-ness” doesn’t go away, but it can be channeled to make good change. Falling into the doom spiral of executive orders undermining due process, public health, or the three branches of government; or the outrageous and blatant corruption of oppressive nations that buy the good graces of the executive branch with something like a $400 million 747; or the self-serving hypocrisy of elected officials who quash their own purported values to preserve their political careers while gutting landmark laws protecting people, places, and our future; well none of that accomplishes much for most of us.
See how easy it is to get caught up in the endless scroll?
So, for me, going to that conference and putting myself in rooms with people means seeing and getting a boost from how so many of us are working on issues, seeing opportunities, collaborating with each other, finding pathways, and moving forward in a good way.
Here at Trustees, we know our role. The attempts to erode the legal tools that compel compliance with the law can feel disheartening, and also they reinforce our focus and commitment. The determination at play in our leaders to skirt democratic ideals, threaten those who speak out, and make decision-makers less and less accountable to the public may make us mad, but anger can transform into purpose, focus, intention.
We all hold so much power when we work together, when we care about the future, when we learn from each other and lift each other up. As any hermit crab might tell you if they could, you can’t ignore the tides and storms, but you can avoid spiraling out on them.
I may carry a shell, but it won’t get in my way, because though I surely cannot predict the next stunning political bombshell, I do know this: the “flood the zone” political overwhelm isn’t a fearsome thing from which to hide, but merely more churn in the vast ocean of our lives where we, together, know how to adapt and thrive.
PS. Thanks to supporters like you, we can continue fighting to protect Alaska’s land, water, air, wildlife and people.
Representative Mark Huffman speaking during budget reconciliation markup about the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Screengrab from of House Committee of Natural Resources.
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Two bears and a wolf resting on the beach in Hallo Bay. Photo by Katie Moest.
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Christin with alpine jelly cone fungus in her hat. Photo by Christin Swearingen.