A LOOK BACK AT PROJECT SURNAME

WORDS by CHARLES ARNOLD

These are lyrics from a song that dominated the radio airwaves in 1966. Maybe it was a coincidence, but that same year the Commissioner of the Northwest Territories, Ben Sivertz, stated “… we should discontinue the number system and disc system as soon as possible.” This set in motion events that led to ‘Project Surname’ and the abandonment of a numbering system that had been imposed on Inuit four decades earlier.

Traditional Inuit personal names are based on a complex namesake system, with newborn children often receiving the name of a relative, and inheriting that person’s identity and personality along with the name. In Inuvialuktun this shared name is called atiq. People might acquire several such names during their lifetime. In small groups of people who know each other this name sharing wouldn’t cause any confusion. The same can’t be said for outsiders such as missionaries, police, trading companies and government administrators who didn’t know the language or the customs of Inuit. Typical of the colonial history of the north, many outsiders renamed individual Inuit to suit their own convenience, unaware or unconcerned that in doing so they disrupted naming systems that reinforced social cohesion within a community.

Among the many historical records of outsiders ignoring traditional personal names is a photograph that was taken by an Anglican Church missionary, Reverend (later Bishop) Isaac Stringer, at Herschel Island about 1899 that shows a man standing on the deck of a whaling ship, posing for the camera. Stringer identified this man as Anaclook—“Jaggs”. Anaclook is probably only an approximation of what his name sounded like to someone who was unable to correctly hear and properly pronounce it. Jaggs apparently was a nickname that whalers used instead of his actual name.

When missionaries persuaded Inuvialuit to convert to Christianity they were baptized and given Christian first names, seemingly without first consulting with them. These ‘Christian’ names, together with their traditional names used as last names, were entered into the church records. A note associated with a photograph taken when the first Inuvialuit were baptized by the Anglican Church on Herschel Island in 1909 states:

However, it appears that baptisms were not always initiated or understood by Inuvialuit. In his autobiography ‘I, Nuligak’, Bob Cockney told the following story of a baptism ceremony in 1912:

The idea of issuing numbered identity discs to Inuit was first raised by government officials in the mid- 1930s, with the suggestion that people should be required to have their discs on their possession at all times. It went into limited practice in 1941, although it was now suggested only that they be worn for a few years, until the individual became used to the idea that they were, in effect, their number. In the western Canadian Arctic these numbers were preceded with a “W”, and in the east they were preceded with an “E”, followed by a number that represented a region or community, and then the number assigned to the individual.

Implementation of the numbering system was sporadic for the first few years. Not everybody received numbers and discs, and some who did immediately threw them away. In 1945 the government began issuing Family Allowance payments to Inuit, and a system was required to identify who was eligible, and to keep track of payments. This placed increased pressure on issuing identification discs to all Inuit, and recording not only their name, but also their gender, marital status, their age and place of birth. Within a few years the numbering system was fully implemented across the north, appearing on birth records, social assistance payments, pay cheques, trapping accounts, and even on carvings to identify the artists.

While the government viewed these identification numbers as an administrative convenience, many people felt that the numbers de-personalized them. Simonie Michael, the first Inuk to be elected to the Northwest Territories Council, questioned why he was getting government correspondence addressed to ‘Simonie E7-551’. In July 1968 the Northwest Territories Legislative Council debated the proposal made two years earlier by Commissioner Ben Sivertz to do away with the numbering system. Robert Williamson, a long-time northerner, presented a motion to that effect, saying he had come to understand that in Inuit traditions, ‘the name is the soul, and the soul is the name.’ However, not all members of the Council agreed. David Searle argued in favour of retaining the numbering system as a bureaucratic convenience:

To which another member of the Council, Lloyd Barber, seemingly sarcastically replied: “What an unfortunate name!”

In 1969 the Northwest Territories Government launched Project Surname, asking Inuit and Inuvialuit to identify first and family names (surnames) that they wished to have recorded on government records instead of identity numbers. To give it more prominence, Project Surname was advertised as a Centennial Project to mark the 100-year anniversary of the transfer of the Northwest Territories from Great Britain to the Dominion of Canada in 1870. Abraham Okpik, an Inuvialuk who had been an appointed member of the Northwest Territories Legislative Council in 1965 and 1966, was selected to head up the project. Over a period of two years he travelled extensively, informing people about Project Surname, answering questions and registering their preferred first and last names. Many people chose to use an ancestor’s name as a surname, and Abraham worked with a linguist to help develop standardized spellings. In 1971 Project Surname had completed its work and the government stopped issuing identity discs.

Looking back across fifty years, the legacy of Project Surname is seen as having mixed results. To some, it was yet another attempt by outsiders to interfere with traditional naming practices. Another complaint is that it has obscured family relationships. Abraham Okpik himself commented on this years later when he recalled: I have a brother whose name is Elijah Allen, because he took Allen as a surname … Another brother of mine is registered as Kisoun. Even though people were brothers and sisters, they would decide on their own name. Some people also disagreed with how their names were spelled in Project Surname records, since the standardized spelling system that was used had only fifteen letters, but those concerns seem to have been ignored.

Note: The spellings of peoples’ names used in this article are as they appear in the historical documents cited.

• ‘Eskimo Identification And Disc Numbers - A Brief History’, by Barry Roberts. Prepared for the Social Development Division, Department of Indian and Northern Affairs, June 1975.

• ‘Names, Numbers, and Northern Policy – Inuit, Project Surname, and the Politics of Identity’, by Valerie Alia. Fernwood Publishing, 1994.

• ‘We Call It Survival’, by Abraham Okpik. Nunavut Arctic College, 2005.

At roll call at the Aklavik Federal Day School they would call out our name and number e.g. Hank Roy W3-1211, and (we) responded “present.”

My greatgrandfather on my father’s side was Allen Okpik and Harry Inukaklik. My grandfather (was) Colin Kisoukaluq, shortened somewhere along the line to Kisoun. Colin was the oldest son to Allen and Eileen Okpik. Colin so liked his name he did not want to be Okpik or Allen like the rest. So he kept his name, and today we are Kisoun.

While my dad was going to residential school in Inuvik, the church asked him what his family name was. But my dad didn't know what they were asking because Inuit didn't have family names. So they asked in a different way, what do they call my dad's dad? He said Hadlari. So from then on, our family name was one of Hadlari's names.

My great-grandfather's dad’s name was Lucas Numatuma. The government decided to use my Great Daduk Wallace’s dad’s first name as his last name. If that did not happen my last name would be Numatuma and not Lucas.

[My Disc Number was] W3-1943. I remember as I had to cite this to get health and dental coverage as we were not Status Indians with a card. Now we have a Social Insurance Number that I have scratched onto a piece of paper in my wallet for reference. I like my name Kisoun, it is much more unique than what I assumed growing up—Allen.

When I was in my early teens I found out that I was labeled as a number and I threw my tag away.

Long ago when the government started registering families they couldn’t pronounce the Inuvialuit names so they used their first names as last names. My greatgrandfather’s name was Roger Angusak, that’s how we got our family name “Rogers”.

The Royal Canadian Mounted Police gave my clan the Cockney name, because they didn’t want to spell out my clan name.

W3-1654 is my number.. (my) grandfather (on my Dad’s side) Edward Kikoak was … from Wainwright, Alaska. His real last name was Kagak. My mom's dad, my grandfather Mark Noksana was, I think (from) just west of Point Barrow, last name (correct me if I'm wrong) Rexford. Edward came with the whalers to Tuktoyaktuk and Mark Noksana walked with the reindeer herd from the Point Barrow area to Tuktoyaktuk. They fell in love with two of my grandmothers, which I'm happy they did, for (otherwise) I won't be here.

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