In Greenland, ‘no seal, no life’

Seals frolic frozen in bronze statue in a public square in Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, on June 20, 2025. (Ivor Prickett/The New York Times)

By JEFFREY GETTLEMAN

Anganni Mikaelsen was cruising past icebergs in his boat when he spotted a glistening head pop up in the water.

Pow!

His rifle shattered the tranquility.

Mikaelsen was hunting seals, as Greenlanders have for centuries.

People here eat seals, feed them to sled dogs and wear sealskins. They trade the pelts for money and use the bones for jewelry. It’s the animal that has provided sustenance for centuries in an environment where it’s very difficult to survive. There’s no overstating the centrality of seals to Greenland.

International groups have campaigned against seal hunting for years, calling it cruel. Some countries, including the United States, ban seal products, though others carve out exemptions for items produced by Indigenous hunters.

In Greenland, the sealskin trade is a major enterprise, providing income for thousands of Inuit hunters. After they butcher seals, they sell the skins. It’s then a long process to turn them into clothing.

First, the fat is removed with rollers. Then, the skins are washed with soap. Then, they sit in tubs of fresh water to get out all the salt and blood. Then, more cleaning, dyeing and cutting.

The Great Greenland tannery in Qaqortoq, in southern Greenland, looks like a giant dry cleaner’s and smells briny like the ocean. The company does a brisk business in sealskin pelts, hats, mittens and earrings, as well as fancy jackets that cost more than $1,000.

Walking around Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, you can see sealskin clothes in the shops and sealskin exhibits in the national museum. There are even statues carved in homage to seals.

“No seal, no life,” said Frederick Willie, a Greenlandic schoolteacher.

Mikaelsen seemed vaguely aware of the criticism of seal hunting, but said outsiders didn’t understand how important it was to Greenland. He and his family live off seals, he said. In his town, Kulusuk, it’s not unusual to see a whole family waiting in the harbor to haul in the catch and wash the skins.

As he puttered away in his boat, leaving behind a swirl of fresh blood, he sang to himself.

“This will last us five or six days,” he said. Then he smiled. “And it will be good eating.”