It starts with a harpoon and ends with a cyberbullying campaign so vitriolic it almost feels surreal. One With the Whale isn't just another nature documentary you scroll past on a Sunday afternoon. It's a raw, uncomfortable look at what happens when ancient survival traditions collide head-on with the digital age. Honestly, it's messy.
The film follows Chris Apassingok. He’s a teenager from Gambell, Alaska. He lives on St. Lawrence Island, a place where the wind screams and the grocery store prices for a gallon of milk could make you faint. In 2017, Chris did something his community celebrated as a rite of passage: he harpooned a bowhead whale. It fed his entire village. Then, his mom posted a photo on Facebook.
That's when the world fell apart for them.
The Reality of Subsistence in Gambell
You've probably seen those glossy Nat Geo specials where everything is pristine and the music is swelling. This isn't that. Gambell is a Yupik village closer to Siberia than it is to mainland Alaska. It's isolated. People there don't hunt because they want a trophy for their wall; they hunt because they have to eat.
The documentary does a phenomenal job of showing the grit. You see the grey slush of the Bering Sea. You see the cramped kitchens. When Chris caught that whale—a 57-footer—it was a massive win for food security. We’re talking about thousands of pounds of nutrient-dense meat and blubber shared among hundreds of people.
But the internet didn't see food security.
Thousands of people, led by high-profile activists like Paul Watson (formerly of Sea Shepherd), saw a "murdered" animal. They didn't care about the context. They didn't care about the 2,000 years of tradition. They saw a kid with a dead whale and decided he deserved to die. The documentary captures the sheer volume of hate mail and death threats that flooded this tiny, remote island. It’s a jarring contrast—a quiet village where everyone knows each other suddenly being screamed at by a global audience of millions.
Why One With the Whale Hits a Nerve
The film works because it doesn't try to make things pretty. Directors Peter Raymond-Kolshorn and Jim Wickens spent years with the Apassingok family. They caught the nuance. You see Chris’s sister, Agrippina, grappling with the trauma of watching her brother become a global villain.
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It’s about the clash of values.
On one side, you have the Western animal rights movement, which often views whales as sacred, sentient beings that should never be touched. On the other, you have Indigenous communities who view the whale as a gift—a relative that gives its life so the people can survive the winter. To the Yupik, being one with the whale means a cycle of respect and consumption. It isn't a contradiction.
There's a specific scene that sticks with you. It’s just the family sitting around, dealing with the reality that people thousands of miles away want them dead. It makes you realize how cheap "activism" can be when it's divorced from the reality of geography. If you live in a city with three Whole Foods within walking distance, it is very easy to judge someone for hunting. It's a lot harder when your alternative is a $20 box of cereal that’s been sitting on a barge for three weeks.
The Problem with Digital Colonialism
A lot of experts have started calling this "digital colonialism." Basically, it’s the idea that people in power (or in the West) use digital platforms to impose their morality on marginalized groups.
- Cyberbullying as a tool: The film documents how social media algorithms amplified the outrage, pushing the "story" to people who had zero understanding of Alaskan subsistence laws.
- Legal Protections: Under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, Alaska Natives have specific rights to hunt whales. The documentary shows that while the law was on Chris’s side, the "court of public opinion" didn't care about the law.
- Mental Health: This is the heart of the movie. We see Chris retreat. He stops hunting for a while. He gets depressed. The film asks: what happens to a culture when the younger generation is too scared to practice their traditions because of TikTok or Facebook?
The Bowhead Whale and the Ecosystem
Let’s talk about the science for a second, because that's usually where the "anti" crowd gets things wrong. The bowhead whale population in the Bering-Chukchi-Beaufort Seas is actually doing okay. It’s been recovering since the end of commercial whaling (which, let's be clear, was a Western industry, not an Indigenous one).
The International Whaling Commission (IWC) monitors these hunts strictly. They set quotas based on what the population can sustain. The Apassingoks weren't "poaching." They were participating in one of the most regulated, sustainable harvests on the planet.
Interestingly, the documentary highlights that the biggest threat to these whales isn't the harpoon. It’s climate change. The ice is melting. The whales’ migratory patterns are shifting. Ship traffic is increasing as the Northwest Passage opens up. It’s ironic: the people being attacked for hunting are the ones most affected by the environmental destruction caused by the industrial world the protesters live in.
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Living the Tradition Today
If you think this is just a history lesson, you're wrong. It's happening right now. The film follows the family through several seasons. You see the sheer physical labor. It’s freezing. It’s dangerous. One wrong move on the ice and you’re gone.
There’s no "easy" way to be one with the whale.
The documentary shows the preparation—the sewing of the skin boats (umuiaqs), the honing of the tools, the prayers. It’s a spiritual experience. When the whale is finally taken, the community comes together. There is no waste. Every part of that animal is used. Bone, baleen, meat, maktak (skin and blubber).
The film also touches on the "Great Alaskan Canned Food Crisis" of sorts—the astronomical cost of living. In Gambell, unemployment is high. The "cash economy" is small. The "subsistence economy" is everything. Without the whale, the walrus, and the seals, the village literally wouldn't exist.
What Most People Get Wrong
People often assume Indigenous hunters use high-tech sonar and machine guns.
Nope.
While they use some modern tools (like outboard motors), the hunt is still remarkably traditional. It requires an intimate knowledge of the ice and the weather. One of the most powerful parts of the film is seeing Chris’s father, Awaang, teaching him how to read the water. That kind of knowledge can’t be learned from a book or a YouTube video. It’s passed down through blood and cold air.
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The Aftermath of the Film
Since the documentary’s release and the initial incident, there’s been a bit of a shift. More people are starting to talk about "Indigenous Sovereignty" in the context of environmentalism. You can't really have a conversation about saving the planet if you're trying to wipe out the cultures that have lived in harmony with it for millennia.
Chris eventually got back out on the water. It took time. It took a lot of support from his community and from Indigenous people worldwide who saw themselves in his struggle. The film ends not with a "happily ever after," but with a sense of resilience. The Apassingoks are still there. The whales are still there. The internet? It moved on to the next thing to be angry about, leaving a trail of digital wreckage behind.
Actionable Steps for Informed Viewing
If you're planning on watching One With the Whale or if you've already seen it and feel a bit conflicted, here are a few things to consider doing to get the full picture:
- Research the IWC Quotas: Look up the International Whaling Commission’s data on bowhead whales. You’ll see that the subsistence hunt is a tiny fraction of the population and is managed with extreme scientific rigor.
- Support Indigenous Media: Follow creators like those at the Native American Journalists Association (NAJA). They provide context that mainstream media often misses.
- Think Before You Post: The film is a case study in the "outrage cycle." Before commenting on a practice from a culture you don't belong to, ask yourself if you understand the "why" behind it.
- Learn About Food Deserts: Research the cost of food in rural Alaska. Look at "The Arctic Food Crisis" to understand why hunting isn't a choice, but a necessity.
- Watch the Film with an Open Mind: Don't go in looking for a villain. Try to see the world through the lens of someone whose grocery store is the ocean.
Ultimately, the story of Chris Apassingok is a reminder that the world is much bigger and more complicated than a 280-character post. Being one with the whale is about a relationship with nature that is both beautiful and brutal. It’s about survival in its purest form. And in a world that’s increasingly disconnected from where our food comes from, maybe we have more to learn from Chris than we have to teach him.
The documentary serves as a mirror. It asks us why we find it easier to defend an animal we’ve never seen than to show empathy to a human being struggling to feed his family. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s a necessary one. If you want to understand the intersection of climate change, Indigenous rights, and the toxic side of social media, this is the place to start.
The whales are still swimming past St. Lawrence Island. And the people of Gambell are still waiting for them, harpoons ready, continuing a story that started long before the internet was even a dream.