Growing up in Calgary, Drew Anderson never thought he would end up staying in the city, especially to work as a journalist. But life works in funny ways and now he’s a proud third-generation Calgarian who’s made a name for himself as one of the leading political reporters in the Prairies. 

The path to getting here wasn’t always clear. Even though Drew always loved writing and grew up in a household that had nightly political discussions around the dinner table, he didn’t realize journalism was something he wanted to do until he hit his 30s.

“It was right in front of me,” he says. “My sister was very pleased with herself, because she had been telling me I should be a journalist for years. But it just didn’t seem like a realistic possibility to me for some reason.”

Clearly it was meant to be because, after a stint bartending and serving in Victoria, it wasn’t long before Drew was breaking big stories as a reporter for the CBC in Calgary.

And now he gets to do it all from his home in Calgary, where he’s a proud dad of two boys and lives surrounded by pieces of Lego. 

“Somehow I ended up back here and it turns out that I love it here,” he says. “That’s why I cover the Prairies — this is my home, I care about it and there’s so many things to cover here.”

We chatted with Drew about the biggest issues facing journalism today (and also got the insider scoop on the best pub in Calgary).

What does good journalism look like to you?

Deeply researched, honest and really well written. I think in-depth journalism that doesn’t bring you into the story and doesn’t take you along is kind of a failure. You can do all the research in the world but if you don’t actually give people a reason to listen to it, I think you’ve dropped the ball. 

You’ve covered a lot of sticky political issues — including legal challenges against the Alberta government’s rapid-fire legislative changes. What got you interested in covering politics?

I like lifting the veil a little bit. I like going back to what motivates decisions, why policies come to be, what is the sociology behind some of these things that happened and why. I also just love digging into something that people are working really hard to keep secret that has a public interest and being able to dig under that and show people what’s going on behind the scenes. It’s always just sort of exhilarating.

How can environmental journalists push the climate conversation forward? 

We’re really lucky: we get to call people up and ask them questions, challenge industry and government and then we get to tell stories about it. It’s such a privilege to be able to do that. So we have to be able to present those stories in a way that motivates people to learn and to read, and to not overwhelm them with these doomsday scenarios. We have to be honest, even brutal, in what we say. But we have to be able to acknowledge and encourage solutions, too. 

What are the biggest issues facing journalism in Canada today?

Money and misinformation. There’s this lack of resources, which basically means there’s a lack of journalists out there that are doing this job. At the same time, we’re completely buried under all of this information and so much of it is factually incorrect. So I think being able to be honest with people and have people understand that is one of the biggest challenges. We’re also slow to bring in new perspectives into newsrooms and into the stories we tell. It’s a really big challenge that not enough people are taking seriously — to broaden these conversations to more voices than we have traditionally in the past.

What are you most excited about in your role at The Narwhal?

Taking the time to dive deep into stories as a matter of course, rather than just trying to do that in between the daily news grind, like I have been doing and that most journalists have to do. It’s such a rare privilege in today’s media landscape to actually be given space and time to look deeply into issues and tell those stories. I hope I spark conversations and change perspectives by doing that. 

What do you do to unwind?

I read a lot. Watch TV and movies. Run. Have the odd beer with friends now that I actually go out to have beer with friends.

What’s the best bar in Calgary?

Ship & Anchor. It’s a classic pub. It’s like an institution in Calgary. I went to high school a block away from it so I’ve been going there since I was … 18.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

As world leaders head to COP26 in Glasgow in search of ways to fight the climate crisis, Canadians may be surprised to learn that solutions are lying right under their feet.

Canada is home to 25 per cent of the Earth’s wetlands and boreal forests, not to mention endangered prairie grasslands and the world’s longest coastline. These ecosystems can store immense amounts of carbon, a power that makes them crucial in the fight against the climate crisis.

While Canada is blessed with an abundance of carbon stores, many of them lack protections from industrial development. But efforts are underway to turn things around. Here are four stories from The Narwhal’s Carbon Cache series on nature-based climate solutions that dive deep to spotlight the people trying to protect Canada’s natural landscapes.

The Dene Tha’ are forging a plan to protect Alberta wetlands with more carbon-storing capabilities than the Amazon

Mbehcho (Bistcho) Lake in northern Alberta is one of the largest lakes in the province. Spanning 426 square kilometres, the region is home to threatened caribou, sandhill cranes and wolverines, to name just some of the wildlife the lake supports. Not only that, but the surrounding wetlands hold five times as much carbon per square metre as the Amazon rainforest. 

Enter an innovative proposal by the Dene Tha’ First Nation to create the first Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area in Alberta. The Dene Tha’ have a long history of stewardship in the area, with archaeological studies showing thousands of years of history. Now, they are coming up with a plan that would protect the community from the impacts of oil and gas development and help the nation manage the land. 

“Maintaining the carbon-storing wetlands within the region will be critical to combating climate change,” the Dene Tha’ proposal read.

Meet the Cheakamus, the only community forest to develop carbon offsets in B.C.

In B.C., there is a little-known forest that provides an important example of how to log while minimizing impacts to ecosystems. 

The 33,000-hectare Cheakamus forest, located about a 40-minute drive south from Whistler, B.C., is teeming with life, supporting everything from bears, marmoset and cougars to lichens, moss and wildflowers. 

But the forest isn’t immune to the threats of industrial activities such as logging. That’s why, in 2007, the Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish Nation), the Lil̓wat7úl (Líl̓wat Nation) and Whistler formed the Cheakamus Community Forest Society to run the forest. Now, they’re charting new territory for sustainable timber harvest that outlaws clearcuts, respects Indigenous governance and combats the climate emergency. 

Canada is investing $25 million into natural carbon storage in the drought-stricken Prairies

This past summer brought a brutal drought to many parts of Canada. Perhaps no area was more affected than the Prairies, and no profession more so than farmers. So when the federal government announced a $25-million investment to conserve and restore wetlands and grasslands in the Prairie provinces, farmers rejoiced.

Draining wetlands not only destroys ecosystems but also impacts the ability to grow crops as the dirt is often damp and saline. 

“You plant it, you keep planting it, you put the same amount of fertilizer on it every year … and it doesn’t do well at all,” said organic grain farmer Karen Klassen. Providing funds for restoration “might actually tip the balances to incentivize people to turn it into wetland,” she said.

Another perk? Wetlands influence local microclimates, which means keeping them healthy could soften the severity of droughts.

The $25 million in support is one piece of a federal effort to boost the adoption of climate-friendly farming practices like cover cropping, nitrogen management and rotational grazing.

Natural climate solutions could offset 11 per cent of Canada’s emissions by 2030

Canada has the opportunity to offset 11 per cent — or 78 megatonnes — of its greenhouse gas emissions annually through natural climate solutions, according to a recent report published in Science Advances.

How big is that number? It’s the same amount of emissions produced from powering all homes in Canada for three years, or the 2018 emissions from all heavy industries in the country.

The single largest way of stemming greenhouse gas emissions is through protecting Canada’s grasslands. 

According to the report, preventing the conversion of 2.5 million hectares of native grasslands and grazing lands across Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba could mitigate 12.7 megatonnes of carbon pollution annually by 2030.

As the world looks for ways to address the climate crisis, protecting grasslands could be one of the most promising avenues for change. Thankfully, there are plenty of people who are working to save them.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

When Emma McIntosh was in high school, she decided she wanted to become an astrophysicist. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for Canadian media), she discovered she didn’t exactly have a knack for calculus, plus her counsellor wanted her to lighten her course load. 

“I figured newspaper class would be chill, so I dropped an economics class and went for that,” Emma says. “Fast forward a few months and the axis of my life had completely shifted.”

After spearheading an investigation involving leaked documents and filing her first Freedom of Information requests, she knew she had to reconsider her career choices. “It felt like something important just clicked into place. I remember thinking, ‘Wow, I wish I could just do this every day.’ ”

Many years later, Emma is now a rising star in Canadian investigative journalism, having broken story after story during her stints at the Calgary Herald, the Toronto Star and National Observer. 

It was through these experiences that Emma learned how gruelling and, let’s face it, boring investigative journalism can be — but also how it can be some of the most rewarding work.

“Investigative journalism is like that scene from Spotlight where it’s just a montage of all the reporters reading and highlighting things. It’s the most boring montage ever and probably not the part of that movie that anyone remembered,” she says. “But … you build that foundation for the incredible, compelling story that you want to tell.”

In her role as a reporter in The Narwhal’s new Ontario bureau, Emma is already diving deep into environmental investigations. Luckily, we got the chance to catch up with her when she took a break from her piles of documents to chat about journalism and her terrible (or not-so-terrible) luck.

What does good journalism look like to you?

My favourite journalism is thoughtful, rich in context and visually stunning. Care goes into every line, every voice, every graphic and every photo. As much as it builds bridges and doesn’t deepen existing divides, good stories should also deliver something new and juicy. Or by bringing disparate threads together, it should help make the world easier to understand. 

Above all, I think of it like a chocolate zucchini cake: you’re consuming something that’s good for you, but we’re mixing it in with so much wonderful stuff that you barely even notice. 

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your experience as a journalist?

The importance of having a life outside of journalism, and having a decent work-life balance. The times in my life when I have been burnt out are the times when I have made mistakes or when I have done work that I wasn’t as proud of. The best stories I’ve ever written — or just my favourite stories to have reported — are always the ones that are informed by being a person in the world and not just a person acting as a journalist all the time. The older I get, the more important it is to me to have more time to explore the world and be in it. Because then I come back with fresher ideas and I come back with more of an understanding of what matters to people.

How can environmental journalists push forward the conversation around climate change?

When I was first getting into journalism, I didn’t find environmental journalism that interesting. I think my perception at the time was that it was a lot of stories about studies, doom and gloom and how the world was going to end. I think it was fed by the way mainstream news had been approaching it at the time, which was a bunch of one-offs. 

Really, the environment is a huge political accountability story. Politicians made decisions decades ago, even centuries ago, that dramatically reshaped the world that we live in and created all these problems that we’re now facing. At the same time, the leaders who are in power today are making the same choices. They’re facing the same kind of moments where things could change and things could not. A lot of the time, the way the media has traditionally covered these stories doesn’t really explain that history or explain how it has shaped everything around us. 

That is where I see environmental journalism fitting in. We have to give our readers that 360-degree view and we have to also hold the people who are making these decisions accountable.

What Ontario issues are you looking forward to digging into?

The first one that comes to mind is definitely the Greenbelt just because I love it. At this point, I think people in my life are starting to get annoyed by me because every time I go on a road trip and see a sign that says, “Welcome to the Greenbelt,” I yell, “Shout out to the Greenbelt!” I don’t know how much longer I can do that without losing all my friends and family. But I’m still excited to write about it. 

I also love getting into wonky policy stories about climate. One thing that I want to cover more that I haven’t yet is resource extraction in northern Ontario. There’s a lot of mining, there’s a lot of forestry and that stuff doesn’t really reach a Toronto or southern Ontario audience that much. So I’m super excited to dig into that more.

What are you most excited to do in this role?

I’m excited to do more investigations. Before, I was covering the environment in Ontario as one person, and the decision to do an investigation always means that you’re going to miss some of the daily news that’s also really important. 

Having three people whose minds are turned to this issue, I think that enables us to do more investigations, to take the time and to balance the workload so that we can do more of the stories that we need. I think the investigative stuff is what makes the biggest difference in terms of shaping public discourse. 

Can you tell us three random things about yourself?

I have had near misses with lightning twice. I do not think I’m going to get lucky a third time, so I’m very cautious when it comes to thunderstorms. 

I think that wasps have it out for me — there’s a hit out on me for sure. I get stung at least once a year, which I only just learned is not normal. I actually got stung twice this year, including once on my tongue. I should have looked at my drink before I sipped it. 

A common misconception about me is that I’m very outdoorsy. I certainly like the outdoors. I camp, hike, climb and canoe. But beyond the basics, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Like, have I gone into the backcountry? Sure. Did I have the gear or know what I was doing at all? No. I’m willing to reveal my secret: you don’t have to be outdoorsy, you just have to make friends who are. And be willing to do some grunt work to make up for it. 

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Fatima Syed’s exposure to both journalism and the climate crisis came early in life. As a child, she was always drawn to storytelling, especially since she was exposed to people from all walks of life through attending British school in the Middle East.

“They all had such interesting stories and concerns and life experiences,” she says. “I think it just seeped into my brain that I wanted to head toward a storytelling path.”

This interest in journalism later made a lot more sense when she found out that her grandfather had also been a journalist and was kind of a big deal in South Asia — dare we say, much like Fatima is in Canada today.

And through her childhood growing up in the Middle East, Fatima had first-hand experience with a rapidly changing climate.

“My first experience with climate change was in the early 2000s: a hailstorm in Saudi Arabia, which is basically a desert,” she says. “That was wild.” She also lived through natural disasters such as the December 2004 tsunami in the Indian Ocean as well as increasing dust storms in Dubai after 2006. Scientists say there is some evidence showing how climate change can contribute to or exacerbate these types of disasters. All this made her realize “that climate change was going to basically destroy humanity if we don’t do anything.”

And do something she has. Fatima has worked in all corners of Canadian journalism, from being a reporter at the Toronto Star to a podcast host at Canadaland to a vice-president at the Canadian Association of Journalists. During all these stints, she’s been certain about the importance of accurate coverage of the climate crisis and we’re so excited for her to bring this experience to The Narwhal.

In between her many jobs, we got the chance to chat with Fatima about her perspective on Canadian journalism and all the licence plates she loves — it’ll make more sense once you read it. 

What does good journalism look like to you?

The journalism that stays with me are the stories that dive deep and zoom out — that just connect a bunch of aspects of society and community. I think those are the stories that make an impact on me, move me and force me to think about the world around me. Give me a story where you have some characters that I would never have met, experiencing things in a way that I never would have imagined. 

Because at the end of the day, for me, journalism is a lens by which we can see our world better and understand our world better. The stories that do that the best for me are the ones that connect all the dots and immerse you in an aspect of the world that you hadn’t thought about very well at all.

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your experience as a journalist?

You can’t go into a story having your mind made up of what that story is. Sometimes I think there’s this preconception that journalists know exactly what they’re seeking. That when they speak to someone, the journalist knows exactly what they want from them and how they want to fit them into the story they’re working on. I’ve learned over the years, no matter what beat you’re covering, what global or local issue you’re covering, you just have to be open to things not being the way you thought they would be. 

You’ve worn many hats in Canadian media — what have you learned from all these experiences?

I think I’ve written for every medium of journalism that exists, which is really cool to think about. I used to joke for the longest time that I’m a niche-less journalist — I don’t fit neatly into a box. You can’t call me just a reporter because I’m also a podcast host. You can’t just say that I’m a writer because I also come on TV sometimes. You can’t just call me a climate journalist because I’ve also reported on race and social justice and more. So for the longest time, I really enjoyed that. Because being a journalist means exploring the world around you and the world around you isn’t just one beat or one issue or one topic. 

The most important thing I’ve learned from working across mediums is that you can tell a story through any means, through any method. And if you do it well enough, and if you do it powerfully enough, it will have an immense impact on the people around you.

Being a journalist means exploring the world around you and the world around you isn’t just one beat or one issue or one topic.

What responsibilities do environmental journalists bear when covering the climate crisis?

I think we have to take a more holistic approach. So often climate journalism exists in a box of its own and we forget the fact that it is the thread that binds human life to natural life in every single kind of way. As climate journalists and as journalists broadly, we have to be mindful and careful about telling stories in a way that always recognizes that human life is very, very tied to what happens to planet Earth. And we need to connect those dots in more accessible, interesting and informative ways. 

There’s this tweet a while ago from a climate journalist, George Monbiot, and he basically said that every climate scientist and environmental journalist in the world right now needs to make a decision.

Journalists today have this moral duty to not merely report what’s happening to the natural world around us — and by extension how it’s impacting human life — but also to confront it. We can’t just be neutral observers of it anymore, we actually have to engage with the impacts that are unfolding around us. I think all journalists need to contend with how to make those links and how to tell those stories in a way that everyone understands how important this is.

What are the biggest issues facing journalism in Canada today?

Burnout. Especially after the pandemic, I think journalists have been working extremely hard in a never-ending news cycle, in less than fun conditions and recently dealing with a lot of negative reader pushback that goes beyond criticism and more toward harassment.

I think burnout has been the creeping problem in the industry for a very, very long time. Now, we’re sort of talking about it but we still haven’t reached the point where we have solutions beyond, “Oh, just take care of yourself and take some time off and step away from the news cycle.”

Can you tell us three random things about yourself?

I’ve lived in five different cities in my life. Karachi, Pakistan; three different cities in Saudi Arabia; Dubai and now Mississauga, Ont. My experience with climate change has varied because of the cities I’ve lived in, so I think that’s been fun and interesting.

I love watching sports tournaments. Having said that, I have lived in Canada for 10 years and I do not know how to skate properly. I’ve never once played ice hockey or watched an ice hockey game live and I’ve not really embarked on many winter sports. I know it makes no sense to be a sports fan and not have tried these things so, I don’t know, maybe I’ll find the courage someday.

I am really obsessed with personalized licence plates. My eyes are just drawn to licence plates on cars and if I see one I will bother a passenger (usually my sister) to take a picture for me to add to a folder on my phone. People put the randomest things on them: pet names, insults, slogans, job professions. It makes my drives more interesting.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Camping, canoeing, hiking: Denise Balkissoon says she hated all of these things as a kid and dreaded any class trips that involved dirt.

“I was very cut off from the natural world,” she says. “I think that for many people that come from places that have been colonized, the idea of progress is putting concrete over everything and then making a lot of money.”

She only realized later in life how disconnected her childhood had been from nature, and how much physical and mental harm that brought. Then she married a former scout, who insisted she go camping sometimes. It turns out she likes it, and now she’s comfortable doing real portage-and-thunderbox camping on purpose.

Now, as The Narwhal’s new Ontario bureau chief, Denise is determined to dig into how access to nature and all other aspects of environmental racism tie into the climate crisis.

“I think racism has separated people from the nature that we need to live,” she says. “We don’t really understand what is important about conserving it and protecting it, and how that matters to us as individuals, or to our families or our kids.”

“I want to help break that barrier down.”

Luckily, that is something Denise has a lot of experience doing. In her many years of working in journalism, she has been pushing the boundaries of the industry to be more inclusive of marginalized audiences. Whether it be as the executive editor of Chatelaine or a columnist and editor at The Globe and Mail, Denise has never shied away from asking hard questions about how journalism can reinforce marginalization and what needs to be done to address this problem.

“The important lesson there is that it’s not a static conversation,” she says. “Journalism is an evolving idea and it’s something that different forces should participate in.”

We chatted with Denise recently about all things journalism, whether that be the important lessons she’s learned (hint: it has to do with invoicing) and why she chose the field in the first place.

Why did you decide to become a journalist? 

The unromantic reason is that I’ve always liked telling stories and crafting narratives, but “writer” would not have been acceptable to my parents, so I went to j-school. But very soon into j-school and my career, I became driven to tell the true stories of, at first, Toronto. Believe it or not, newspapers and magazines used to be even less interested in leaving the downtown core or including racialized perspectives in anything other than stories about crime and poverty. I grew up in the suburbs with immigrant parents, surrounded by other immigrant families and businesses and the misrepresentation and erasure in most Canadian journalism bothered me more, the more I saw how the sausage was made.

What does good journalism look like to you?

Relevant, wide-ranging, contextual, surprising, fact-based, expert, beautiful and even fun, depending on the topic. 

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your experience as a journalist?

Well, for freelancers, make sure you pay attention to your bookkeeping. I freelanced for 10 years and it’s always my advice when asked how to succeed at it, even though everyone is disappointed because it’s a boring answer. But you’re not going to be able to sustain yourself freelancing unless you’re disciplined about how much money you need, how much you need to get paid, invoicing on time, chasing your money, all that stuff. 

More generally, the need to balance humility and confidence. I think we tell young journalists to be confident with politicians or other people in power, and that is necessary, but it took me longer to gain the confidence to stick up for myself and my ideas and expertise with editors. 

You’ve worked in many different parts of Canadian media — what have you learned from your experience? 

There is an audience for the stories that interest me. The message from legacy media throughout my career has been that only certain stories told by certain people in certain ways will draw an audience. But every time I’ve ignored that, I’ve found a very big and enthusiastic audience that’s been waiting for meaningful and relevant journalism. 

What responsibilities do environmental journalists bear when covering the climate crisis?

The responsibility of any journalist, which is to make sure that what you’re delivering to people is true — that it’s fact based, it’s fact-checked, that you’ve been fair to all ideas that might go into a story, which is not the same as false balance or false equivalency. My idea of objectivity isn’t pretending that you don’t have an opinion. It’s more about knowing what your own personal opinions and biases are and constantly interrogating them. 

One responsibility of environmental journalism, specifically, is that a lot of it is science. And I love scientists, but in my experience as a journalist they’re not always great at distilling their expertise in a way that makes sense to someone who has 15 minutes to read a news story. So I think our responsibility is to ask scientists very basic questions that maybe make us sound dumb, but help us put their expertise into words that the average person who is not an environmental scientist will understand.

What are the biggest issues facing journalism in Canada today?

One of the big issues is, how are we going to pay for it? We’re two decades into the “Internet age” and yet a lot of places still haven’t figured out what to do, having lost the advertising-focused model of the pre-internet age. One of the reasons I was happy to join The Narwhal is because our founders, Emma Gilchrist and Carol Linnitt, have experimented with how to fund journalism. They’ve been successful at it and I find that super exciting.

As always, I think equity is a big issue. It’s one that has really been rumbling in Canadian journalism for years but has not been solved, despite the ingenuity and work of many people. 

Building relationships with audiences is another huge problem that stems out of that inability for many institutions to change. That’s a problem, because many people don’t trust what you would see as the places that Canadians have traditionally turned to for news. That’s where a lot of disinformation fills the breach. 

Can you tell us three random things about yourself?

I have been doing yoga for 21 years. 

This is perhaps not that random nor surprising, but I read a lot of books. I go back and forth between relaxing, easy fiction and more literary, “important” fiction. Right now I’m reading a mystery novel by the Irish writer, Tana French, which is more on the fun side of things.

One thing I did learn to do during the pandemic was how to trim my own bangs. It’s not something I would have done before.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

More than 10 per cent of Canadians are living in homes that are increasingly threatened by wildfires, with on-reserve First Nations communities being disproportionately affected, according to new research published by scientists from Canada’s natural resources department.

The new study, published in the Canadian Journal of Forest Research, found that roughly 4.1 million people — or 12.3 per cent of the Canadian population — reside within what the authors call a ‘wildland-human interface’ or areas where homes and public structures intermingle with forests.

But the percentage of people at risk in on-reserve First Nations communities is nearly three times higher, with 32.1 per cent of this population facing looming dangers as the climate crisis exacerbates natural disasters. The authors estimate First Nations reserve inhabitants make up only 1.1 per cent of the Canadian population, based on the 2011 census.

The research is coming to light a few months into a devastating forest fire season with more than 2.7 million hectares of land in Canada already affected by wildfires, including a deadly blaze in June that killed two people and destroyed the town of Lytton, B.C. That fire resulted in roughly 300 insurance claims and $78 million in insured damage, according to recent estimates by the Insurance Bureau of Canada.

The threat wildfire poses to communities is expected to increase in the future, since 17.3 per cent of forested areas in Canada are close to housing, industry and infrastructure, according to the new research, published in April.“Personally, I think I really underestimated the number of people and the amount of area subjected to wildfires in Canada,” Sandy Erni, lead author of the study, told The Narwhal in an interview. 

Yan Boulanger, a co-author of the study and a research scientist in forest ecology at Natural Resources Canada, said that the annual number of lands affected by wildfire is only going to increase.

“This is mostly caused by an increase in temperature,” he said. “Because temperatures are increasing, the climate is drier. So conditions are more fire conducive. Also, the fire season itself begins earlier in the spring and ends later in the fall, so there’s more time for fire to burn the landscape because of this increase in temperature, especially out west.”

But the climate crisis is not solely responsible for the heightened wildfire risk to a growing number of Canadians. Erni, who specializes in fire risk research with the Canadian Forest Service, said climate is just one side of the coin, the other being human society itself.

“We have got more people living in the forest, so we spread out human areas. And we don’t have the common sense that Indigenous cultures have about living with the forest. So I think that’s something very interesting to understand — you’ve got the fire, but also the society, which is increasing the pressure on the ecological system.”

Erni is not alone in her thinking.

Andrew Judge (Mkomosé), an assistant professor of Anishinaabe Studies at Algoma University who is not affiliated with the study, believes that people need to shift their mentality and recognize the “symbiotic relationship” between humans and the forest. From an Anishinaabe perspective, humans are the most reliant of all creatures and need the most from other beings, Judge said, but many humans are also caught up in prioritizing financial, rather than ecological, values.

“We continue to look at the forest as lumber and not breath,” he said. “The forest represents the breath of life — it inhales what we exhale, and exhales what we inhale.”

Judge said it’s now more urgent than ever to change the way we think about the natural world, because the cost of not doing so is and will continue to be disproportionately felt by marginalized communities.

The federal wildfire study shows just how the pressure of wildfires are bearing down more directly on First Nations reserves.

Currently, 17.8 per cent of the on-reserve First Nations population living in a wildland-human interface is exposed to a fire return interval of less than 250 years. By comparison, only 4.7 per cent of the remaining population across Canada lives in this interface. 

Not only are wildland-human interfaces more likely to cover First Nations reserves, these communities also have a shorter fire risk interval — the time that is expected to take place between two fire events.  

The study also notes that First Nations reserves make up almost one-third of all evacuees and evacuation events from recent decades.

The study predicts that remote First Nations communities in particular will bear the brunt of wildfires in the coming years. In northwest Ontario alone, six First Nations communities have evacuated this summer due to wildfires.

Judge noted that while climate change is at the root of the problem, we need to expand the metaphor to grasp the ways in which wildfires can compound the vulnerabilities of marginalized peoples.

“Climate change is also the trunk because it has so many branches, and then the roots of that are colonial greed, colonial violence, racist policies — there are so many other roots. If you think of the roots of a tree, there’s so many I don’t think you can just define one root.”

The study also predicts that, regardless of the climate change scenario, the amount of human settlements close to forests with a high fire risk will continue to increase. As such, Erni explained, Canada needs to focus more energy on preparation and mitigation, and less on suppression.

“And everybody can play a role. We often talk about policies and authorities, but even homeowners cleaning their backyard can make a huge difference,” she said. “I think that’s good to remind people sometimes.”

Being aware of the risk is the first step, said Boulanger, and communicating it is the second. That is what he hopes their research can accomplish.

“We see that we can certainly bring some solutions to those problems. Of course, these are tragedies. But now that we know the burn probabilities around Canada a little bit better, we’ll get a little bit more confident about what we should do.”

The study was co-authored by Lynn M. Johnston, a forest fire research scientist; Francis Manka, a forest biologist; Pierre Bernier, a forest productivity research scientist Emeritus; Amy Cardinal Christianson, a Métis fire social scientist; Thomas Swystun, a forest systems modelling specialist and Sylvie Gauthier, a forest succession research scientist. All the co-authors work for the Canadian Forest Service.

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Growing up as one of the few Muslims in a predominantly white town during the time of 9/11, Safeena Dhalla experienced firsthand the type of structural inequity that she is now dedicating her life to fighting against.

“It was really through understanding my own experiences that I developed a framework to understand and empathize with so many struggles that so many marginalized groups are going through,” she said.

“I feel that with the privilege and the voice that I have, that it’s my responsibility to fight for change.”

Now, Safeena is ready to bring that drive to The Narwhal.

As our new director of operations and impact, Safeena will be taking charge of nurturing our exponential growth. She’s no stranger to leadership positions — from being head of growth at a social impact startup tackling the U.S. immigration crisis to managing global brands as a business director in London, U.K., Safeena has a proven track record of managing complex projects and leading diverse teams to success. She’s also very much service-oriented, having been chosen as the valedictorian of her graduating class at the UBC Sauder School of Business.

We’re so excited to welcome Safeena to our pod and recently got the chance to chat with her about her international experience and stint as a Guinness World Record-holder.

What drew you to the journalism industry?

I was really drawn to journalism speaking truth to power and the ability of journalism to stand up against injustices. Particularly, I love The Narwhal’s non-profit ad-free model — we can report on important issues with the highest integrity.

What are you most excited to do in this position? 

I’m really excited to champion The Narwhal’s diversity, equity and inclusion work. I think there’s a huge need to focus on making newsrooms more representative and I think The Narwhal has an opportunity to lead the industry on creating this change. 

I’m also thrilled to be joining The Narwhal during such a period of growth and being able to take what makes The Narwhal so magical and impressive and take it all over Canada.

How does your interest in the environment play into your everyday life?

It’s become increasingly important to me to really understand my relationship with the Earth. I believe it’s our collective responsibility to honour it and fight for it. For me, that has to be done through a lens of decolonization and understanding the severity of Indigenous injustices that continue to this day — they are inextricably linked. My interest in the environment plays out in continuing to educate myself and being committed to the push for truth and reconciliation, because I think this is such a key cornerstone of environmental advocacy.

What does good journalism look like to you?

I think good journalism is accurate, it sheds light on under-explored issues, it engages people and it holds power  accountable. I think it’s persistent, it is committed to the truth and it’s ultimately about empowering people and systems.

How does your background in other sectors influence your work at The Narwhal?

Through my background in communications and strategy, I’ve witnessed the impact that storytelling has on changing behavior. So I really understand the power of journalism to affect change. 

I also have a lot of experience working in fast and nimble startup environments, where you need to be able to adapt quickly and innovate frequently to create a growing, thriving organization. I think that’s something I can really bring to The Narwhal’s exciting period of growth that we’re on the cusp of.

You’ve worked all over the world and Canada — what have you learned from your wide-ranging experience?

The importance of curiosity. I have learned that no two places are the same, so a high degree of curiosity is needed to understand what makes a place tick. I needed to be adaptable to different styles, approaches, and cultural and industry norms. Experiencing the ‘new’ can be really challenging, but when you approach it with curiosity, it can be quite fun, rather than just overwhelming. 

I’m pretty passionate. And opinionated! But I’ve learned you can always pick new perspectives up from other people. Maybe that lies at the heart of why I crave travel and new experiences so much.

Tell us a few random things about yourself

When I was 12 I was in the Guinness Book of World Records for World’s Largest Orchestra. I think it has since been beaten, but at the time in 2000 it was a world record. I played the clarinet and we did 10 minutes of Beethoven’s 9th at B.C. Place.

I can understand a dialect called Kutchi. It’s what my family members who lived in East Africa speak and it’s common in the Ismaili Muslim community. I can’t speak it so I try to practice with my grandma, but just end up knowing the swear words really well.

I used to be a huge Grizzlies fan. I actually wrote to David Stern, the commissioner of the NBA at the time, and asked him to keep the Grizzlies in Vancouver instead of transferring them to Memphis. He did not write back.

I really want to get jury duty. I love the idea of being able to advocate for someone and potentially 12 Angry Men-ing a situation. I actually got called once — before I realized I was going to be out of the country, I Googled tips for getting selected. Most articles I came across were about how to avoid jury duty, but I was using them for opposite advice on how to get in.

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When he was young, Mike De Souza remembers accompanying his parents to city council meetings in their municipality outside of Montreal. His parents were very politically engaged citizens and Mike remembers them going to the mic during the question period at one meeting to grill the mayor and councillors. He also remembers that these politicians didn’t want to answer any questions directly.

“It taught me that there are very few people out there who are watching people in positions of power, holding the powerful to account. And powerful people will make decisions in the shadows, in the darkness,” Mike said. 

And thus a journalist was born. Through these types of experiences, Mike said he learned what responsibilities and roles journalists can play by being in the room and holding power to account, because not everyone in the general public has the time to pay close attention.

“I feel that if I am there to watch and ask tough questions, that person who is making a difficult decision, they might be thinking twice if they know that someone is watching them,” he said.

Mike has kept this relentless enthusiasm for journalism throughout his career, which has included stints at the National Observer and Global News. In 2016, his exclusive reporting about the National Energy Board revealed a scandal involving a private meeting between the regulator and former Quebec premier Jean Charest, who was working as a consultant at the time for TC Energy. Revelations about the meeting damaged the board’s credibility as an impartial regulator and led to the suspension of federal hearings into the proposed Energy East pipeline. Eventually, this resulted in TC Energy cancelling the project, which would have been the largest oil pipeline in the country. 

Coincidentally, this wasn’t the first time Mike reported on Charest, as you can hear from this 2002 audio from Quebec City. Mike was National Assembly bureau chief for CJAD radio at this time.

Now, we’re thrilled that he’s bringing his expertise to The Narwhal as our new managing editor. 

We got the chance to catch up with him recently and learn all about his perspectives on the role of journalism in Canada today — and maybe a bit about his obsession with frogs.

What is journalism’s role in today’s political environment?

Some things have changed and there are some things that haven’t really changed in our history.  For generations, there have been people who peddle misinformation or even disinformation. I got inspired to focus on investigative journalism at a pretty early stage of my career about 15 years ago when I was seeing how easily disinformation was spreading about the global climate crisis. 

It was the early 2000s and the National Post — the flagship publication of my employer at the time, Postmedia — was giving a platform to people spreading inaccurate information about the climate crisis. It inspired me to dig for evidence and look into each of the misinformed claims that were appearing, and be able to write articles that could demonstrate to the public what the facts were, what was actually misleading, what was credible and what was not credible. I wanted to ensure that people had the accurate information in their hands about the seriousness of the situation, what was causing it and who were the powerful people in Canada responsible for stalling action on climate change.

What does good journalism look like to you?

I think it’s simple. Good journalism, responsible journalism, I see it as being about providing accurate news that informs, engages and empowers people. So it means never giving up or letting go when someone is hiding something. It requires persistence, patience, dedication and never losing hope. Always believing that we can find answers to the most pressing questions of the day, no matter who is trying to stop us from getting to the truth. 

How can environmental journalists push forward the conversation around the climate crisis?

I think we have to recognize how much of our day-to-day lives depend on protecting the natural world, ecosystems, the atmosphere. I think, for far too long, there has been news coverage by a wide range of outlets done in silos and with tunnel vision. So when members of the public express concerns about issues like rising debt, the cost of living, jobs, I think there are a lot of journalists from some of the large media outlets that could do a much better job of explaining how these issues relate to business and political decisions at a local level, such as major real estate projects and luxury condos, particularly if these projects are being done on wetlands or other protected areas, or areas where there are threatened species or species at risk, or other critical parts of the ecosystem. 

A lot of these issues are front and centre right now in Toronto and other cities around the world. And I think The Narwhal is best positioned to lead and demonstrate how all of these pieces are tied together. 

What do you like most about your job?

I like uncovering the truth. And I do this job because I think journalists play an essential role in free democracies to hold power to account. Every day that we’re holding someone’s feet to the fire, bringing about positive change is a good day. And every day we empower citizens with the information they need on life and death matters is a good day, and every day we reveal the truth is a good day.

Can you tell us three random things about yourself?

Growing up I played hockey. I love to skate. I am one of those Canadians whose dad used to make a skating rink in our backyard. So that’s how I developed an interest in hockey and playing. My career ended really early as a teenager and I didn’t go that far. But I did love to play hockey, and then later learned to watch it. (Editor’s note: Mike appears on all Narwhal Zoom calls with a Montreal Canadiens background.)

I really love frogs. I actively seek them out during hikes around wetlands, lakes, ponds. Growing up, we had a cottage and whenever we arrived there, the first thing I would do is check the pond to see if the frogs were there and make sure they were okay. And every year they were. I went up again a couple of weeks ago, the frogs are still there, so that’s good. I also have a ceramic frog collection, so I’m fully into frogs. 

I once had a sit down one-on-one interview with Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was about 10 years ago now. It was about climate change and he was governor at the time of California. About 30 seconds after the interview, I saw that the digital recorder I was using had just failed. And so I lost the entire interview after walking out. A cold sweat started to pour over me and I completely started to panic, because also I hadn’t really taken good notes during the interview because I just wanted to fully absorb and engage with the governor. I called the governor’s office and they were nice enough to help me with some of their notes and eventually a digital recording. So I do have a recording to this day of that interview, but I initially lost it.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

At The Narwhal, we pride ourselves on our photography and work to expand the boundaries of photojournalism in Canada. That’s why, in February, we announced the creation of three paid fellowships for photographers who are Black, Indigenous or people of colour (BIPOC). It was one way for us to address the historical whiteness of Canadian journalism, and particularly Canadian photojournalism. 

When we announced these fellowships in partnership with Room Up Front — a mentorship program for racialized photographers run by BIPOC industry professionals and allies — we asked for our readers’ help to fund these opportunities. The support was instant and overwhelming. Thanks to our readers’ donations, and generous support from Reader’s Digest Foundation, our three fellows — Alia Youssef, Ramona Leitao and Robby Dick — have been hard at work to bring you under-told stories about Canada’s natural world.

Today, we are so excited to introduce you to these three talented photojournalists, each of whom will produce an original photo essay for The Narwhal over the coming year.

It’s not often that we get to hear from people behind the camera so we were delighted to chat with Alia, Ramona and Robby about the projects they’re working on and the stories they love to cover.

Alia Youssef  

What stories are you compelled to cover, and why?

Broadly, I am interested in complicating representations of marginalized groups and national narratives, as well as highlighting underrepresented stories and histories. At first, this led me to question how Muslim communities were represented, and to complicate it and showcase underrepresented stories and histories. With my fellowship with The Narwhal I am changing gears slightly into a different topic I have been interested in, which is to question who we see represented in outdoor spaces. 

As someone who grew up in B.C., with amazing trails at my doorstep, I never felt like I belonged in the outdoors so I avoided it. This led me to question why I didn’t feel like I belonged to begin with and to question the national narratives and media representations that played a part in that.

What does good journalism look like to you?

I appreciate photojournalism and longer-form documentary projects where care is inherent in the work. That could mean consideration of power imbalance and positionality between the photojournalist and community member; it could mean avoiding tokenization by going beyond sound bites and sensational photos and illuminating complexities; it could mean giving space for marginalized groups who have historically been spoken for to voice their opinions and stories; and it could mean informed consent for those involved whenever possible. I believe that good journalists are accountable and hold themselves to a high standard, recognize their own subjectivity and limitations, and integrate humanity and ethics in every step of the process. 

You’ve done some really cool work covering Muslim women — what do you love about highlighting Muslim women through photography?

For so long Muslim women have not had agency in how they are represented. They have been subjected to one-dimensional stereotypes and for women who are visibly Muslim, often bear the brunt of Islamophobic violence due to these negative representations. Throughout working on my many projects that include Muslim women, I have loved collaborating with them in a way that gives them agency in how they are visually represented. I have loved learning the stories of women from all around the world, from a huge range of careers, and of all ages, and finding ways to visually represent a piece of their narrative. I also just love getting to meet cool people and getting to learn about their lives and outlooks — it’s affected me in such a positive way.

What have you been up to during the pandemic?

During the pandemic I became obsessed with two subjects that I could have cared less about prior to it: Star Wars and skincare (I bet those two don’t get named in the same sentence often!). Due to my all or nothing personality, I have a baby yoda which I bought a Christmas outfit for (embarrassing) and have watched an insane amount of skincare videos on Youtube. So on any given day, I’m probably talking about the science behind skincare or making theories about what’s happening next in the Star Wars universe. (I’m just joking … sorta.) 

Ramona Leitao 

What stories are you compelled to cover, and why?

It honestly changes. But one theme in common is definitely social justice issues. Right now, in that realm of social justice issues, what I want to cover is food sovereignty. It’s a very intersectional issue and actually something I’m working on for The Narwhal. Because there’s a lot of environmental impacts, political impacts, racism — it’s just all there. And food is so important, it’s the key to livelihood. So I really want to show how food sovereignty is different for communities, especially racialized communities in Canada.

How do you think journalism, unique from other types of media, can cover environmental issues specifically?

It’s just very in your face — you see the impact right there. As a reader, it’s a lot more efficient to consume the impact and the severities of these environmental issues when you see the photos yourself. There’s that saying, seeing is believing. Some readers might not necessarily fully comprehend the impact until they see the photos that convey that story. So I think photojournalism in that sense has a lot of advantages there. It’s just a lot easier to understand the emotions and the severity of the situation in your photos.

What does good journalism look like to you?

Good journalism to me is something that’s in-depth and something where the journalist truly understands what their source or subject is trying to tell them without skewing their words or their message. It’s being mindful of some of the people that you’re interviewing depending on the nature of the story. So for example, last year, when George Floyd’s murder caused attention all around the world, a lot of journalists were trying to talk to any, like, Black person to talk about the traumas that they face. And I feel like good journalism is being mindful of who you’re talking to, how you’re talking to them, listening to what they have to say and not skewing their words. It’s a balance of hearing their story but not re-traumatizing them.

What’s your hidden talent?

This really isn’t a talent. And don’t test me. But I’ve been told that I can recognize the year of any Top 40 song from the 2000s to now. Anytime a song comes out, I’m like, “Oh my God, this takes me back to 2006.” And people say, “How do you know the year?” I’ve been quizzed on songs but I would get them right each time. But now I’m scared because I know someone’s going to ask me and I’m going to mess up. But that’s a hidden and very unnecessary talent unless I want to join the music journalism industry.

Robby Dick

What kind of stories are you compelled to cover? And why?

No one is covering stories about caribou. Because caribou are really pivotal to our way of life, to food security and to drum making. My grandpa is one of the last people here in the community that still makes a traditional drum of caribou hide. He’s been teaching people for I don’t know how long — 30 to 40 plus years. So right now, I’m doing a story on caribou. The stories I want to cover are all around the environment. My territory, my homeland, it’s really rich in resources. Ross River is unceded — we don’t have any treaties, we don’t have any land complex land claims, so the stories I want to cover are around Rights and Title, how the Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas are playing an important role for guardians across Canada. And how important biodiversity is in the boreal forests not only to us, but to people across Canada. 

Why did you decide to become a photojournalist?

I wanted to photograph and display images of life in the North, particularly Ross River. I really like the visual storytelling aspect of being behind the camera and capturing a moment. Otherwise the world wouldn’t even know about it. 

How do you think photojournalism is particularly well suited to covering these stories and other environmental stories?

I think it’s a good format because you’re able to share images and a story to really capture your audience. This type of photojournalism really captures the essence around who we are as Kaska and captures the storytelling behind it. Because originally, we’re natural born storytellers. It’s in our DNA to tell stories. 

What does good journalism look like to you?

Good photojournalism is being able to capture the images you want and working with editors to alleviate the pressure on what images to share and how to tell the story. And [it means having] a lot of flexibility in capturing the images. Good points, good pictures, something interesting that otherwise people don’t know about. 

What do you enjoy the most about being a photojournalist?

That I’m able to work with people. For me, doing this type of work is to be able to tell a story. So I’m pretty passionate about capturing images, to share my culture with people that don’t know who we are as Kaska. Because Ross River is a strong land-based community and we do have an economy that’s based on the bush. I think there’s strong advocacy out here, protecting the environment and a lot of good things going on. I’m able to capture it and that’s what I enjoy about it — that I’m able to tell their stories.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

When Eva Voinigescu looks back on her path to The Narwhal, the throughline becomes clear.

One of her earliest memories of engaging with environmental issues is making a documentary on chlorofluorocarbons and the hole in the ozone layer with two other girls in Grade 8. She recalls walking through the empty cornfields adjacent to her suburban Ottawa development and narrating into the camera as she tried to recreate scenes from the documentaries she had seen on TV. After getting tongue-tied one too many times, she shortened “chlorofluorocarbons” to “CFCs.”  

At the time, it was just another school assignment. Now, looking back, she can see how fitting it is that she has ended up working in environmental journalism. 

That documentary ended up winning a national student award, marking the beginning of a long line of accomplishments.

Eva describes her professional experience as “part start-up, part newsroom, part non-profit.” She started her career as an account coordinator at an ad agency in Toronto before doing her master’s in journalism at Northwestern University in Chicago. After graduating, she worked as a video producer at an advertising start-up, a communications specialist at a non-profit that funds scientific research and a freelance journalist, producer and audience consultant. 

In her role as outreach manager, Eva will be liaising with partners and donors, as well as working on audience engagement to ensure The Narwhal continues to connect with readers in meaningful ways.

We got a chance to chat with Eva about the many hats she’s worn and the steps she’s taken to bring her to The Narwhal.

The Narwhal’s new outreach manager winning a national student award for a documentary she produced with two other girls in Grade 8. Eva’s fun fact about this photo: the two other girls are also now working in journalism. Photo: Eva Voinigescu. Photo illustration: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Why did you decide to work in journalism?

There wasn’t any one moment where the decision was clear, but I’m a pretty curious person and I like figuring things out. I’ve always been a really good student and really liked formal education, so I’ve always seen journalism as a way to be a student forever — you’re always learning new things.

I had a lot of exposure to media as a kid — my mom always had Scientific American magazines hanging around the house and my dad was obsessed with the BBC and CBC. But ironically, they weren’t too keen on me going to journalism school. They wanted me to do something more stable, like business or science. We moved to Canada from Romania when I was young, so it’s very much the immigrant story in that sense. So even though I applied to J-school for undergrad, I kind of chickened out and I did a bachelor of arts instead. At the time, I convinced myself that it was a good middle ground between what I wanted and what my parents wanted. 

But after a couple of years, I still couldn’t shake the journalism bug and I’d also grown into myself more — the idea of talking to strangers didn’t scare me as much. So I went back and I did my master’s in journalism with a focus on science journalism and documentary.

How have you connected to nature throughout your life?

My family in Romania has farms and land in the countryside, so I’ve always liked to be in the garden, with the farm animals, and in open spaces. I definitely idealize the pastoral a bit too much. 

I also read a couple of books a few years ago, In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan and The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Waldman, that really changed the way I thought about the finite nature of our environment. 

I didn’t really come to embrace spending time in nature until my 20s and it’s partially tied to those books. It’s also partially tied to the fact that my mom moved to the West Coast and I got to experience those more dramatic landscapes regularly, in a way that I didn’t growing up in the suburbs of Ottawa and the east end of Toronto. 

Eva Voinigescu poses for a portrait in Toronto. “I’ve always liked to be in the garden, with the farm animals, and in open spaces.” Photo: Christopher Katsarov Luna / The Narwhal

What do you enjoy most about the job so far?

What I love about it so far is what a tight-knit team The Narwhal is. Having freelanced for the past three years, it’s so nice to have regular interactions with a community of people who are working toward the same goals and who are really smart and really passionate about the same things that I’m interested in. And not only that, but I think The Narwhal is really pushing the boundaries of independent journalism in Canada. They’re really challenging the old business model of journalism and working to make it sustainable again. 

Having this strategic business-minded side of my brain, it’s really exciting to be working for an organization that is willing to take risks, try new things and figure things out as they go, rather than being stuck in the old way of thinking.

How does your background in science journalism influence your work at The Narwhal?

I think it makes a really good foundation for working at The Narwhal because even though a lot of what I’m working on is actually business focused — brand strategy, events, media and partner outreach — any business decisions we’re making have to be compatible with the bigger mission, which is to produce in-depth journalism about the natural world. My understanding of journalism, branding, technology, communications and relationship building all really help me in my role.

What does good journalism look like to you?

It’s a tough question to answer succinctly because there’s so much that goes into good journalism. But I think for me — and I think this is at the core of what The Narwhal does — good journalism provides context. It speaks to the complexity of a situation, even if that makes the takeaways less definitive. It respects the humanity of the people who are sharing their stories. 

I think good journalism is also not dogmatic in how it’s practised. It’s flexible to changing as needed to address the moment we’re living in and to best serve people in the moment we’re living in. To not just serve principles, but to serve people.

What are three random things about you?

I went to journalism school in Chicago, so I’m a bit of a deep-dish snob. The best one I’ve had in Toronto is not at a restaurant. It’s the one my partner and I make at home and the secret ingredient is cornmeal. And that’s all I’ll say.

One of my first memories encountering wildlife is being charged by a ram at my great-aunt’s farm in Romania when I was four or five. The ram came at me and hit me in the stomach and it actually sent me flying, but luckily my bones weren’t broken. 

I’m pretty obsessed with podcasts and I am a committed speed listener — I have to play them at double speed to get through them all. I really loved Bear 148, and I also produce a podcast about the energy transition in Alberta and Canada.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

“The coverup continues. Site C should be cancelled.”

That sentiment from former BC Hydro president and CEO Marc Eliesen was the major takeaway from our panel discussion on Thursday about the future of the Site C dam, the most expensive public infrastructure project in B.C.’s history. 

We organized the event to address the influx of questions following our B.C. reporter Sarah Cox’s blockbuster investigation into the troubles facing the dam. Cox obtained freedom of information documents that revealed major problems with the project were kept from the public for more than a year.

“There’s been a great deal of secrecy and a lack of transparency,” Cox said, setting the stage for our panel of experts to talk about what lies ahead for the beleaguered project.

West Moberly First Nations Chief Roland Willson spoke about how the revelations have influenced how he and his community think about the future of the dam. West Moberly First Nations have taken the B.C. government to court on claims that their traditional territory and burial grounds will be destroyed by the hydro project.

“This is an infringement on Treaty Rights … there has to be a reason to infringe and with Site C there is no reason,” said Chief Willson.

“We believe [Premier John] Horgan failed the people of British Columbia by allowing this project to go ahead.”

Judith Sayers, the Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council president and a board member of Clean Energy BC, spoke about the conflict between the B.C. government and First Nations fighting the project. According to Sayers, the project has been a “huge disappointment” and “a slap in the face” to Indigenous people.

“The fact is, this is a bad investment for British Columbia.”

Eliesen likewise did not mince words when asked about the future of the project. “To continue is totally reckless. If [Horgan] continues, this will be his folly,” he said.

“Calamitous events can be avoided if [Site C] comes to a halt now.”

And so, attendees wanted to know how they could make their voices heard.

“People really need to rise up in the province and just say no,” Sayers said. “The whole issue has got to become a really hot potato that Horgan has to deal with in this new term he’s got in front of him.”

Echoing that, Eliesen added that a grassroots movement “can have impact.”

Read a full recap of the event below.

Site C dam webinar – Curated tweets by thenarwhalca

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.