In January, Todd Stone, the president and chief executive officer of the Association for Mineral Exploration British Columbia, told the crowd assembled for the association’s conference about a lobby meeting he had with Premier David Eby. Stone joked that he opened by congratulating the premier on his “success on 30-by-30.” 

The crowd began to chuckle as he continued his story about provincial and national targets for protecting 30 per cent of land and water by 2030.

“You’ve actually accomplished 47 by 2025,” he recalled telling the premier. He then recounted asking: “Can we start having a conversation about pulling some land back?”

That figure comes from a policy paper published in December 2025 by the association, arguing “up to 46.99 per cent” of British Columbia was protected land. That’s far more than the federal government’s figure of 19.9 per cent, and would surpass the province’s 30-by-30 pledge. 

According to Stone, a former minister under the B.C. Liberals, the comments led to the premier directing “the staff at the [Water, Lands and Resource Stewardship Ministry] to go back and look at all their numbers and sit down with us.”

According to public records, the association lobbied at least a dozen members of B.C.’s NDP government in late 2025 to press their argument. Those include the speaker, the minister of forests, the minister of labour, the minister of energy and climate solutions, the minister of mining and critical minerals and Randene Neill, the minister of water, lands and resource stewardship.

On Dec. 2, 2025, Minister Neill poured cold water on the lobbying effort.

“It is inaccurate to suggest these areas are currently fully protected when they are not,” she said. A section of the statement attributed to the ministry went on to add that many of the so-called protected areas cited in the association’s policy paper “do not restrict all resource activities that can negatively affect biodiversity.”

Torrance Coste, associate director at the Wilderness Committee, remembers seeing Minister Neill’s statement shared on an email list used by the province’s conservation groups. He described it as “encouraging” at the time. But Stone’s comments, and more recent statements by the ministry, have him worried.

According to a statement emailed to The Narwhal, the Ministry of Water, Lands, and Resource Stewardship said it is “developing an updated approach” to tracking the province’s progress towards the 30-by-30 conservation goal and appreciated the association’s “feedback as we proceed through this work.”

“This work includes a review of all existing areas within B.C. that have conservation measures in place or have restrictions on resource activity,” the ministry explained. 

To complete that review, they added they are working with “other resource sector ministries, including Forests, Mining and Critical Minerals, and Energy and Climate Solutions” as well as “industry and environmental non-governmental organizations.”

Coste thinks this could be a sign that the ministry is considering adopting some of the Association for Mineral Exploration’s definitions for protected lands. Something he describes “a naked attempt to lobby against the expansion of protected areas committed to by the governments of B.C. and Canada through the 30-by-30 commitment.”

“The Association for Mineral Exploration’s proposal has absolutely nothing to do with conservation,” he said. “The fact [that] the BC NDP government is even looking at the association’s nonsense is a huge scandal”. 

The Narwhal reached out to the Association for Mineral Exploration British Columbia regarding the meeting Stone described between himself and Eby, but did not receive a response by publication time. The premier’s office directed questions about the comments to the Ministry of Lands, Water, and Resource Stewardship, which sent the statement cited above. 

Conservation groups say the math doesn’t add up 

Despite the ministry’s statement that both “industry and environmental non-governmental organizations” are involved in the process of reviewing conservation measures and goals, Coste says the ministry has not contacted the Wilderness Committee.

The Narwhal did learn that the British Columbia office of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society had been engaged in conversations about how the province calculates protected lands. But those conversations began prior to the Association for Mineral Exploration’s recent lobbying, according to Coste and others The Narwhal interviewed for this story.

Coste says that if the province reaches out to him, his first move would be sharing “photos from this year of massive clear cuts in critical caribou habitat.”

Torrance Coste, associate director at the Wilderness Committee The Wilderness Committee, says logging is threatening imperilled caribou in the province. Photo: Eric Reder / Wilderness Committee

These photos, he explains, are from areas designated as ungulate winter range. A land designation under the Forest and Range Practices Act, it’s meant to protect critical winter habitat for species such as mountain goats, elk, bighorn sheep, deer, moose and caribou. It also accounts for 17.7 per cent of the province’s land mass — land the Association for Mineral Exploration says is closed to mining. 

Back in December 2025, the Ministry of Water, Land and Resource Stewardship disagreed with that assessment. In the same statement where Minister Neill rebuffed the Association for Mineral Exploration, the ministry argued ungulate winter range didn’t meet the 30-by-30 conservation criteria.

“There are two types of ungulate winter ranges: no harvest and conditional harvest,” the statement read. The former “are subject to restrictions on forestry activities, but do not restrict mineral development and exploration activities.” A conditional harvest zone, meanwhile, may not have stringent enough restrictions on forestry to satisfy international conservation requirements, according to the statement.

In other words, ungulate winter range isn’t fully closed to development. It’s a conclusion the Association for Mineral Exploration shared in a 2016 report, describing it as land “where new mineral claims may be acquired and access for mineral exploration and development may be permitted.”

Coste points to other land designations that the Association for Mineral Exploration calls protected that don’t fit the 30-by-30 criteria. Among them are special management zones and wildlife management areas. Both restrict some, but not all, mining and logging. Like ungulate winter range, the Association for Mineral Exploration’s 2016 report said these areas could be open to mining. 

In special management zones, the report stated that “resource development and extraction opportunities exist.” While in wildlife management zones, “resource extraction like mining may be allowed.”

To Adrienne Berchtold, the director of mining reform and habitat protection at SkeenaWild Conservation Trust, it’s more evidence that the Association for Mineral Exploration’s policy paper is using faulty figures.

“We’ve done some early fact-checking and found that around 27 per cent of operating mines, proposed mines and exploration projects in the province are located in areas [the Association for Mineral Exploration] is telling the government should count as protected areas,” she says. “These numbers show that not only is mining activity possible in these areas, it is actively occurring in significant quantities.”

The problem with ‘other effective conservation measures’

For Coste, one of the most egregious land designations included in the Association for Mineral Exploration’s policy proposal are old growth management areas. According to a 2024 report from the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society B.C., less than one-third of old growth management areas are protected old-growth forests. Most of them, the report found, were young forests, and at least 27,300 hectares were active cutblocks. 

“They’re not protected areas,” Coste says. 

But the provincial government includes old growth management areas in the province’s 30-by-30 calculations.

Of the 20 per cent of land and water the province has logged in the Canadian Protected and Conserved Areas Database, 15.9 per cent is parks and protected areas. The other 4.1 per cent are listed under the heading of “other effective area-based conservation measures.”

A vague designation, other effective area-based conservation measures are not parks, conservation lands or other clearly defined, government-recognized protected areas. Their inclusion in 30-by-30 stems from the definition of protected areas developed by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, an organization headquartered in Switzerland, which counts Canadian government and non-government entities among its members.

It defines a protected area as “a clearly defined geographical space, recognized, dedicated and managed, through legal or other effective means, to achieve the long-term conservation of nature with associated ecosystem services and cultural values.”

The “legal” side of this is straightforward: think provincial and federal conservation areas, ecological reserves and parks. “Other effective means” is where things get complicated. 

The province considers old growth management areas protected enough to include in their 30-by-30 calculations. The Association for Mineral Exploration agrees, adding ungulate winter range, special management zones, wildlife management areas and a few other designations they believe should also be included. 

But Coste disagrees, arguing that these designations “clearly don’t meet the International Union for the Conservation of Nature guidelines.” 

He describes the push to include them as government and extractive industries seeking “loopholes” to avoid real conservation. And yet, Coste said there are other means to meeting the 30-by-30 targets.

He points to Indigenous-led conservation areas as an example. These areas can fall into a legal grey zone, declared by nations but not recognized by the provincial or federal government. 

“If it’s Indigenous-declared, they’re probably going to need resources to do management plans and to get Guardians on the ground,” Coste says. “If it’s not a recognized protected area, that funding is not going to flow.”

He says that recognizing these areas as other effective area-based conservation measures could change that. It’s what happened, for example, in the Northwest Territories with Thaidene Nëné. 

An Indigenous protected area located on the northeastern arm of Great Slave Lake, it was designated by the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation in 2019. Parts of the area were recognized by the territorial government as a territorial protected area and a wildlife conservation area. The rest was recognized by the federal government in 2025, forming the 26,000-square-kilometre Thaidene Nëné National Park Reserve. Earlier this year, the project received a major funding boost when the territorial government dispersed $21.6 million to support Indigenous-led conservation. 

The Thaidene Nëné National Park Reserve spans 26,000 square-kilometres. Photo: Pat Kane

Without these other pathways to establish protected areas, Matthew Mitchell, a professor and researcher at the University of British Columbia’s faculties of land and food systems and forestry and environmental stewardship, isn’t sure that B.C. or Canada can meet the 30-by-30 targets. 

“We can’t always do conservation the way we traditionally think about it,” he says.

In 2021, Mitchell served on an expert panel convened by Environment and Climate Change Canada to explore pathways to meet Canada’s conservation goals. Along with other researchers, he concluded meeting the 30-by-30 target would require innovative solutions. 

He advocates for approaches such as Indigenous protected areas, urban parks and biosphere reserves that include working landscapes.

“There are lots of good examples of working landscape conservation, agricultural areas where we’re adding in buffer strips and hedgerows,” he says. “Things that can actually have big benefits to a variety of wildlife and agricultural production.”

These are the kinds of other effective area-based conservation measures that he thinks are useful. But he also acknowledges there are pitfalls, and that opening the door to interpretations like the Association for Mineral Exploration’s isn’t helpful. 

“How you define these things and how effective they are actually really matters,” he says. “Putting them all into one bin and saying that we’ve hit our 30 per cent target is not a good way to go.”

A proposed Indigenous protected area in the crosshairs 

At roughly 40,000 square kilometres, the Dene Kʼéh Kusān Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area would be among the largest tracts of protected land in British Columbia. Located at the heart of the Kaska Dena nation’s traditional territory, it’s four times the size of Tweedsmuir Provincial Park, the largest park in the province.

“As Kaska, we’ve been stewards of our territory, so in our mind, it’s about thoughtful land use planning that will protect one of the most intact ecosystems in North America,” Michelle Miller, director of culture and land stewardship at the Dena Kayeh Institute, says.

When it’s recognized, she adds, the Kaska will be able to promote sustainable economic growth and protect land, water and critical habitat. It would also contribute to the province’s conservation goals. 

“Dene Kʼéh Kusān is four per cent of the province,” Miller explains. “Protecting it would go a long way to helping B.C. achieve its 30-by-30 goals.”

Kechika River runs through Dene K’éh Kusān, an area proposed for protection by the Kaska Dena. Caribou are highly sensitive to habitat disturbance. Dene K’éh Kusān would protect a significant portion of northern mountain caribou ranges from resource extraction or other major developments. Photo: Taylor Roades / The Narwhal

That has led projects like Dene Kʼéh Kusān to land in the Association for Mineral Exploration’s crosshairs. In their December 2025 policy proposal, the association called for a stop to “Northwest Land Use Plans, which are expected to add … significant new conservation areas to the province.” Conservation areas like Dene Kʼéh Kusān.

But Miller questions the association’s framing. 

“The idea of pitting conservation against economy, and against job creation, I think it’s an outdated argument,” she says. Dene Kʼéh Kusān is “not about opposing mining, it’s about where that can occur in other areas throughout the territory.” 

For Miller, that balance is at the heart of a “modern conservation economy” where “Indigenous stewardship, healthy ecosystems and economic opportunity can all move forward together.”

It’s a view she hopes won’t be lost if the government works with mining interests to change how they approach conservation and the 30-by-30 target. 

“The whole conversation around how you get to 30-by-30, I think we can recognize there’s some creative math going on there,” she says. “But we’re not here to debate that. We’re just here to say that Dene Kʼéh Kusān is worth protecting.”

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Summary

• The first round of investments from a $375-million fund for Indigenous-led conservation in the territory is being distributed to 21 Indigenous partner governments.
• The funds will support activities on three Tłı̨chǫ protected areas, which cover roughly half of Tłı̨chǫ territory and represent a region three times larger than Banff National Park.
• Funds will also support new and existing Guardians programs, which will generate steady jobs and preserve cultural knowledge that would otherwise be lost.

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A landmark initiative in the Northwest Territories is disbursing $21.6 million to Indigenous governments to support protected areas and Guardian programs.

The funds represent the first round of investments from the Our Land for the Future Trust. The trust came out of an agreement signed in 2024 by the federal government, territorial government, 21 Indigenous governments and private donors that invested $375 million into Indigenous-led conservation in the territory.

$375M Indigenous-led conservation deal just signed in the Northwest Territories

The investments were announced Feb. 26 at a meeting in Yellowknife, where the agreement’s partners gathered to review progress.

“It’s an exciting announcement,” Dahti Tsetso, the trust’s chief executive officer, told The Narwhal. With the agreement finalized and funds transferred to the trust’s account, money is now flowing to Indigenous governments to support conservation work at the community level: protecting diverse ecosystems, culturally and spiritually important areas and wildlife habitats.

That, she says, “was always the vision.”

Dahti Tsetso, chief executive officer of the Our Land for the Future Trust, says the funds will support both new and ongoing work led by 21 Indigenous partner governments. Photo: Pat Kane / The Narwhal

In this first round of funding, Tsetso says each of the 21 Indigenous partner governments is getting resources to work toward area-based conservation goals as well as Guardian and stewardship goals.

In some cases, this will mean managing existing protected areas, such as Edéhzhíe in the Dehcho region or Thaidene Nëné near Łutsël K’é. In other cases, funds will support communities looking to explore or advance protected areas. Both Ka’a’gee Tu and Sambaa K’e First Nations, for example, have been working to establish protected areas that would conserve culturally and ecologically significant zones, home to wildlife such as moose, fish, waterfowl and caribou.

“There’s a number of initiatives that have been ongoing for quite some time,” Tsetso says. “Now the trust can help support their efforts.”

She adds that all of the Indigenous partners have ambitions to either initiate or expand their Guardian work. For instance, the K’ahsho Got’ine Guardians in Fort Good Hope are looking to expand, while the Gwich’in are developing a regional Guardian program.

The frontline of conservation: how Indigenous guardians are reinforcing sovereignty and science on their lands

Protecting roughly half of Tłı̨chǫ lands

The Our Land for the Future agreement covers existing protected areas in the territory, but it’s also expected to support 200,000 square kilometers of new protected and conserved areas, contributing to the federal government’s commitment to protect 30 per cent of Canada’s land and water by 2030. 

Last week’s announcement recognized a big step toward that goal. In November 2025, three protected areas on Tłı̨chǫ lands were officially recognized as Indigenous protected areas by the federal government and added to a national database. The online database is currently being updated to reflect more lands and waters protected as of the end of 2025, according to a spokesperson from Environment and Climate Change Canada.

Will Canada meet its goal to protect 30% of land and waters by 2030?

The three protected areas are known as Tłı̨chǫ Nàowoò K’è Dèt’àhot’ı̨ı̨, Gowhaèhdǫǫ̀ Yek’e Aet’ı̨̀ı̨ K’è and Tıts’aàdı̀ı Nàdèe K’è Wexoedıı.

Altogether, they span 22,565 square kilometers— equivalent to about three times the size of Banff National Park, and encompassing about half of Tłı̨chǫ lands.

“It is a great piece of work,” Tłı̨chǫ Grand Chief Jackson Lafferty says.

Jackson Lafferty, Grand Chief of the Tlicho First Nation, says development is taking place alongside conservation. “It’s a balancing act,” he says. Photo: Pat Kane / The Narwhal

He adds that there are also large areas where development is being promoted to support economic self-sufficiency. “It’s a balancing act,” he says. “We’re doing what we can to conserve and also develop.”

 Tłı̨chǫ Nàowoò K’è Dèt’àhot’ı̨ı̨ is aimed at preserving Chief Monfwi’s trails: traditional winter and summer travel routes that connect the four Tłıc̨hǫ communities as well as important cultural and harvesting areas, Brett Wheler, senior policy advisor on sustainability and resource management with the Tłı̨chǫ Government, says.

Similarly, Gowhaèhdǫǫ̀ Yek’e Aet’ı̨̀ı̨ K’è prioritizes the preservation of the ancestral Įdaà Trail, which connects Great Bear Lake to Great Slave Lake. There are important waterways and watersheds situated roughly halfway along the route.

Finally, Tıts’aàdı̀ı Nàdèe K’è Wexoedıı extends along the shoreline of the north arm of Great Slave Lake, and will protect habitat for birds and other wildlife such as caribou.

The three protected areas encompass several historic trails and waterways used by the Tłıc̨hǫ people since “basically forever,” says Brett Wheler. They will also protect critical habitat for birds and wildlife. Photo: Supplied by the Tłıc̨hǫ Government

“These areas have been important for Tłıc̨hǫ people for a long time, basically forever,” Wheler says. Although Tłıc̨hǫ people have protected the areas since time immemorial, a lack of resources to get people on the land had kept them from fully realizing their vision of stewardship.  

The funds from the trust will support the “people component” of the protected areas, Wheler says, including Guardian work, environmental monitoring and cultural programming. One intention is to hire people full time — though the Tłıc̨hǫ Government already has several monitoring programs, patchy funding has meant most employees work on a part-time or casual basis.

The trust served as a catalyst for having the areas officially designated and recognized by the federal government, Wheler explains. In anticipation of funds flowing from the Our Land for the Future, Tłı̨chǫ law governing land protection was updated in 2023. In 2025, the federal government deemed the three areas equivalent to other protected areas, such as national or territorial parks, for achieving conservation goals. As a self-governing nation, the Tłı̨chǫ Government is the sole decision-making authority on its 39,000 square kilometres of land. A land claims and self-government agreement signed in 2003 gave the Tłı̨chǫ Government ownership of surface and subsurface rights on these lands.  

Stephanie Behrens, the Tłıc̨hǫ Government’s manager of lands protection and renewable resources, echoes Wheler.

“Our Elders have always said that the wildlife and the land need us to be out there,” she says. “Having this pot of money really ensures that we’re able to do that.”

Guardians funding will bring jobs, protect culture 

Behrens says the intent is to hire two full-time Guardians in each of the four Tłıc̨hǫ communities, along with a Guardian manager.

Employing Guardians full-time will also provide jobs in an economically challenging time for the region, Behrens says. The territory’s three diamond mines have long been major employers, but are all expected to close by the end of the decade. One is shutting down this month, and the two others are struggling financially.

Restoring and maintaining cultural trails will be a key part of Guardians work, Brett Wheler told The Narwhal. Eight new Guardians will be hired, along with a Guardian manager. Photos: Supplied by the Tłıc̨hǫ Government

Tłıc̨hǫ Guardians will help implement work set out for the protected areas, including stewardship, monitoring and harvesting. The work will support the Tłıc̨hǫ Government’s language and cultural programs, but also provide opportunities for individuals to exercise their culture, Wheler says. Elders will provide Guardians with guidance on how to re-establish and maintain cultural trails, along with a network of camps and cabins. 

A lot of that cultural knowledge might otherwise be lost.

“There are only a handful of people that actually know these historic trails,” Behrens says, adding much of her work is guided by her late grandfather’s vision. As an Elder, he was involved in negotiating the Tłıc̨hǫ self-government agreement.“To be able to utilize these trails once again in the way that our Elders and ancestors used to do, I think he would be extremely proud,” she says.

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Summary

• A new report says Canada is falling behind on its commitment to protect 30 per cent of lands and waters by 2030.
• That’s true in Manitoba, too, but a vast Indigenous-led conservation area proposed for the province’s north could help.
• Advocates are urging the federal government to renew conservation funding that is expiring this year, stressing the economic value of natural spaces.

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There are just four years left on the clock for Manitoba — and the rest of the country — in the race to conserve 30 per cent of lands and waters by 2030. But halfway through the timeline adopted at the United Nations Convention on Biodiversity in 2022, Canada has made little progress, adding less than one percentage point to its protected land tally and three points to its protected waters. 

The country needs to double its protected areas to meet its target, known as 30-by-30. But conservation groups, including the Wilderness Committee and the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society (CPAWS), warn progress could stall even further as federal funding for conservation initiatives is set to run out at the end of the month — and there’s no indication it will be renewed.

“We have a conservation economy that we can build on, that gives local jobs, that helps honour our Indigenous reconciliation commitments,” Sandra Schwartz, national executive director of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society, said in an interview. 

“It’s an opportunity for the country to invest strategically in our future, while also delivering on a global commitment that our country made.”

The society is urging the federal government to re-invest in conservation, armed with new research showing protected spaces generate significant economic returns. And with the right funding, the Wilderness Committee says Manitoba’s approach to establishing these spaces could be a model for other provinces.

Canada has so far protected 13.8 per cent of land

The world is in the throes of a biodiversity crisis. Wildlife populations declined 70 per cent between 1970 and 2018, according to the Living Planet Index, which measures the relative abundance of more than 5,000 species over time, and the United Nations has found species are being driven to extinction far faster than the natural baseline. When the World Economic Forum released its global risk report in January, biodiversity loss and ecosystem collapse ranked as the No.2 long-term threat to the global economy. 

“Biodiversity is what makes the world habitable for us,” Eric Reder, director of the Wilderness Committee’s Manitoba office, said. “Habitat for species, the place for nature to be wild, is essential.”

Experts agree habitat loss is a key driver of biodiversity loss. According to a February report from the committee, Canada was already at a disadvantage when the 30-by-30 commitment was adopted in 2022 as part of an effort to halt and reverse this trend. The country had failed to reach any of the conservation targets it agreed to in the previous three decades, and had only managed to formally protect 13 per cent of lands and 12 per cent of waters, lagging behind other nations. 

As of 2026, Canada has improved to just 13.8 per cent of lands and 15.5 per cent of marine areas. It will need to protect another 1.7 million square kilometres, an area the size of Alaska, to meet the target.

Habitat loss is a key driver of the world’s biodiversity crisis, which is causing species to go extinct at a faster rate than the natural baseline. Photo: Ryan Dickie / The Narwhal

Plan to protect Seal River watershed in Manitoba could add 50,000 square kms of conserved areas

Manitoba has formally protected just 11 per cent of its wild areas, despite having “more wilderness within its borders than most countries in the world,” the Wilderness Committee report says.

Still, the report is optimistic about the province’s future. Reder said that’s because the province has a history of empowering Indigenous-led conservation.

Pimachiowin Aki, a stretch of undisturbed boreal forest on the eastern side of the province that has been formally managed by four Anishinaabeg nations since 2002, was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2018. 

More recently, the province has supported an alliance of four Cree and Dene nations in establishing a protected area in the Seal River watershed, a 50,000-square-kilometre expanse of northern Manitoba that encompasses the province’s last undammed major river, and serves as critical habitat for seals, caribou, shorebirds and more than 250 other species.

In January 2024, the province gave the watershed interim protection from mining and other industrial activities; last March the alliance, along with federal and provincial governments, determined a protected area is feasible. When complete, the Seal River watershed could protect seven per cent of the province, increasing Manitoba’s tally to 18 per cent.

Manitoba Environment and Climate Change Minister Mike Moyes said the province has prioritized its partnerships with local communities, including First Nations and rural municipalities, and is working toward a “mosaic” of protected areas through these partnerships. 

“These are folks that live in the areas that we’re talking about, right across the province, and so ensuring that they’re a part of these projects moving forward is critical,” Moyes said. “All of our work is for Manitobans, by Manitobans.”

Conservation advocates urge feds to add funding for protected areas

The Wilderness Committee report notes underfunding is the most significant barrier to protected- area growth, as governments “continue to prioritize short-term resource extraction over long-term protection.” 

The society cautions any progress Canada is making towards the 30-by-30 target could be stymied as federal funding runs out. 

The Enhanced Nature Legacy Fund, introduced in the 2021 budget, provided $2.3 billion over five years to support 30-by-30 initiatives, and aimed to reach an interim target of protecting 25 per cent of lands and waters by 2025. 

That funding expires at the end of the month and the federal government has not indicated whether it will be renewed. A representative for Environment and Climate Change Canada did not answer specific questions about whether Ottawa intends to renew the funding or introduce a new budget line for conservation initiatives.

A federal funding program that supports conservation efforts is expiring at the end of March 2026, and advocates are warning the loss could stymie Canada’s progress on its conservation goals. Photo: Taylor Roades / The Narwhal

Schwartz and leaders of other nature protection groups sent an open letter to Prime Minister Mark Carney this week, urging the government to renew and strengthen funding for nature. 

“Without renewed funding, the conservation work that is already under way and has been for several years could stall,” Schwartz said. “We’d have rural and more remote jobs at risk. We’ll have communities and Indigenous partners left without the support that they were promised.” 

When the money runs out, it will leave the responsibility for funding protected areas to the philanthropic and private sectors, which are not sufficiently resourced to fill the gaps, she added.

Schwartz explained protected areas are comparable to other large infrastructure initiatives, including the mining and oil and gas projects the federal government has championed through its Major Projects Office. 

“Environmental protection is not a trade-off,” Schwartz said. “When we have a healthy environment, we also typically have a very healthy economy. It’s a return on the investments the government has already made.”

Protected areas generate billions for the economy: report

A recent study from the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society found protected spaces are a significant contributor to the economy. 

The federal government spent $1.8 billion on protected areas in the 2023-24 fiscal year. In return, those same areas generated $10.9 billion in gross domestic product and 150,000 jobs — many in rural and remote communities, the report found. Every public and non-profit dollar spent in these areas generated $3.62 in visitor economic activity, jobs in the sector contributed $6.6 billion in labour income and tax revenues generated a return of $1.4 billion.  

“Investing in nature is an affordability act for the future,” Reder said. “The economists are telling us that we need more parks, we need more protected areas, we need more tourism investment. The money folks are telling us that we need to spend on nature.”

Moyes said the province has “a variety of irons in the fire” when it comes to future conservation initiatives, and is working with the federal government, local communities and other partners to meet its 30-by-30 commitments.

“We’re always going to ensure that there is adequate funding to get these projects across the line,” Moyes said.

“The environment is our backbone, and it’s important that we’re protecting the environment in order to have economic development.”

Julia-Simone Rutgers is a reporter covering environmental issues in Manitoba. Her position is part of a partnership between The Narwhal and the Winnipeg Free Press.

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A large herd of bagwaji-bizhikiwag (wood bison) call Chitek Lake Anishinaabe Provincial Park in Manitoba home — and their community recently grew even larger.

On Feb. 18, the herd welcomed 10 new bulls and cows to their territory nestled between Lake Winnipegosis and Lake Winnipeg — more than 300 kilometres northwest of Winnipeg.

They’d traveled 12 hours in a massive cattle trailer across provinces, from Elk Island National Park in Alberta.

Wood bison, once on the brink of extinction, have seen their populations climb thanks to recent conservation efforts. And even though the species wasn’t historically known to live in this herd’s area, the vast isolation of the park’s boreal forest, fields and lakes helps keep them safe from disease as their numbers come back. 

Skownan First Nation serves as a steward of the free-ranging herd, which is currently at nearly 200 animals, said Rychelle Catcheway, the nation’s operations director.

“It’s a very proud and meaningful [and] fulfilling role to know that our bison were nearly extinct or on the endangered species list and now to see their numbers come rise back up,” said Catcheway.

“This was years in the making.”

Bison serve as an essential food source for many Indigenous communities on the Prairies, and play an important cultural role in ceremonies. Bringing back their numbers is crucial to restoring biodiversity, food security and cultural heritage. Photo: Stephen Edgerton / Parks Canada

Catcheway said several years ago, the First Nation submitted a request to the Elk Island bison transfer program. Last fall, she said, they began a series of meetings “to discuss how many animals they were able to give us … and to see if we had the capacity to take them in.”

Moving wood bison between herds is not an easy task, as each animal can weigh up to a full tonne.

It required many steps, starting with Skownan and Elk Island National Park signing a memorandum of understanding outlining who bore responsibility for sorting, tagging, handling, loading and transporting the animals. 

But it also required helping the newest members of the herd integrate. As the 10 transferred bison were unloaded in Manitoba, at first one of the cows refused to leave the transport trailer. 

So Catcheway stepped in. She made eye contact with the scared animal through a hole in the trailer’s side. And then she told the bison that she’d arrived in her new home. 

Finally, Catcheway’s spouse Paul Marion, who serves as the nation’s herd manager, lured the timid mammal out using a bell and hay. Now, the bison are able to recognize the couple’s truck. But if it’s driven by someone unfamiliar, they can get “spooked,” Catcheway noted. 

She said she’s become closer with the new buffalo, remembering moments where a calf and bull walked right up to her window as the couple were stopped in the middle of the herd. 

A bison calf approaches Rychelle Catcheway’s truck. Catcheway says the animals can be timid, but that they each have their own personality once they get more comfortable. Screenshot: Supplied by Rychelle Catcheway

‘Small but very tangible act of reconciliation’

The move wasn’t the first one between the animals’ original national park in Alberta and their new home on Skownan First Nation’s bison ranch.

In fact, about 40 years ago, Elk Island National Park sent Skownan several of its initial herd when the Manitoba program first started.

At that time, the federal government had declared the large bovine species as officially “endangered”; by 1988, wood bison were downgraded to “threatened” status. 

Today, the species is still listed as of “special concern,” with between 5,000 and 7,000 mature individuals spread between nine wild subpopulations.

Without many natural predators to hunt bison, their populations have been able to slowly bounce back, explained David Bruinsma, a Parks Canada resource management officer at Elk Island National Park.

But six years ago, Environment and Climate Change Canada issued a warning that wood bison face “imminent threats to their recovery,” particularly from domestic cattle-borne diseases, “oil sands mining” and hydroelectric dams and vehicle strikes.

“The effect of threats make achieving the recovery objectives of the species highly unlikely or impossible,” the department’s report concluded, “such that immediate intervention is required.”

Without many natural predators to hunt bison, their populations have been able to bounce back, explained David Bruinsma, a Parks Canada resource management officer at Elk Island National Park.

The Alberta park hosts two distinct herds — one wood bison, the other plains bison.

“There’s limited amount of grass and other forage in the park for them,” Bruinsma said.

“Every so often, we have to remove surplus bison from the park to prevent overgrazing … and then transfer them to conservation projects and Indigenous communities.” 

Such transfers usually occur in wintertime because it’s easier to lure the bison with feed when the ground is covered with snow. Additionally, the calves will have been weaned by that time. 

Bruinsma said Parks Canada is trying to increase how many bison it transfers to Indigenous communities, calling it a “small but very tangible act of reconciliation” that “supports ecological and cultural restoration” of the species considered sacred to many First Nations in the region. 

Herd additions aim to increase genetic diversity on province’s first Indigenous Use park

The wood bison sent to Skownan came fitted with coloured ear tags to differentiate them from the rest of the herd, Catcheway said.

The five males, known as bulls, are old enough to breed at three years old and up, and have green ear tags. The five females, or cows, range from yearlings to roughly four years old, and wear yellow tags.

The 10 animals were introduced to add genetic diversity to the local breeding population, Catcheway explained.

“There’s a possibility that the females might be bred already, so we’ll be looking forward to seeing if they have any calves this May,” she said.

Their new provincial park home sits on the traditional lands of the Skownan Anishinaabe. In 2014, it became the first area the provincial government designated as a Traditional Indigenous Use Park. 

Wood bison once roamed the prairies between Canada and the United States freely. Indigenous communities are working to restore their numbers across their traditional homelands. Photo: Stephen Edgerton / Parks Canada

The 1,000-square-kilometre protected area draws hunters, fishers and gatherers from local Indigenous communities and beyond. 

“That took years making it into a provincial park,” Catcheway said, “to prevent logging and to keep the land for generations to come.”

The bison roam within a 50-square-kilometre enclosure of the park.

But being free to wander, some have left the area, often scattering north within the province. It’s estimated that there are about 300 wild buffalo whose lineage originated from Skownan’s bison ranch. 

“Last year, we had one of the wild bison actually come right into Skownan,” Catcheway recalled. “A lot of people were in awe.”

‘I find they have their own personalities’

Catcheway and Marion drive 40 minutes each way to feed the bison during winter months.

“It’s a pretty big area for them to roam,” she said. 

“Free grazing during the summer — wintertime is when we feed them and they stay in the feedlot.”

Marion prepares the hay and salt blocks for the animals.

“They like alfalfa,” she noted. “We gave them barley last year, and they were pretty excited to have that — different hays, grasses.”

She told IndigiNews they start to feed the herd as soon as “the snow first starts flying.”

By the time the snows melt, they’ll have consumed “about 500 bales” before they can graze freely in springtime.

Marion’s late father, Raymond, passed on the responsibilities to care for the herd to the couple.

“On warmer days when Paul goes to feed up, it’s nice to see the calves running around and jumping,” Catcheway said.

“Sometimes, there’s some older females that are stubborn, give us a hard time, say if we’re having a round up or anything. I find they have their own personalities.”

The wood bison from Elk Island National Park, Alta., being unloaded from a truck at the Skownan First Nation. Video: Supplied by Rychelle Catcheway

First Nations are ‘reclaiming their role’ in conservation

Bison are an important food source for many Indigenous communities, and are also used in Sundance ceremonies, such as the dragging of buffalo skulls after dancers are pierced, Catcheway said.

Recently, Skownan hosted Manitoba Keewatin Okimakanak, a northern chiefs organization, at a bison harvest. 

After being shown ways of using all parts of the harvested animal, the guests and hosts then held a feast. “Taking care of the land and conserving endangered species is our responsibility,” said Skownan band councillor Nelson Nepinak in a press release. “Our priority is herd health.”

The First Nation added that, as Indigenous people are increasingly recognized internationally as environmental stewards, the Skownan Wood Bison program “demonstrates how nations are reclaiming their role as caretakers of the land,” the press release stated, “while building resilient futures for generations to come.”

The small community of nearly 1,800 people has “learned a lot of lessons from the bison,” Catcheway said proudly — for instance, how to protect fellow community members like bison do in a herd.

“They learned how they function in their community,” she explained. 

“They’re really protective of each other — just like how community members are here in Skownan. They’re there for each other.”

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Federal and provincial governments will partner with Indigenous leaders and environmental groups to assess whether Manitoba’s biodiverse expanse of the Hudson Bay coast is a good candidate for conservation amid the province’s push to expand the Port of Churchill.

During a news conference in Churchill on Tuesday, Premier Wab Kinew announced Manitoba will contribute $250,000 to study the feasibility of a national marine conservation area in Western Hudson Bay. 

Oceans North, a national conservation organization, will invest a further $1 million over the next year to support research, training and education initiatives in and around Churchill, Chris Debicki, the organization’s vice-president of policy and counsel, announced.

The feasibility study, led by Parks Canada, marks the first step toward protecting what Manitoba Environment Minister Mike Moyes called “one of the most ecologically significant marine environments on the planet.” It will coincide with a previously announced $750,000 feasibility study to improve ice-breaking capacity in the northern waters.

Manitoba’s Arctic coast is home to seals, polar bears and 60,000 belugas. Here’s Canada’s chance to protect it

Churchill is home to one of Canada’s most northern deepwater ports and is the only one with access to the Arctic Ocean.

“These ecosystems are changing rapidly and the need for action has never been more urgent,” Moyes said. “This initiative represents a major step forward for safeguarding the health of these waters and supporting responsible economic development.”

Marine conservation areas, which protect both coastal and freshwater ecosystems, form part of the federal government’s plan to protect 30 per cent of the nation’s lands and waters by 2030. Canada has designated five such protected areas to date and plans to establish another 10 by 2030. Alongside Western Hudson Bay, the federal government is studying the feasibility of protecting Ontario’s portion of the Hudson and James Bay coasts.

Canada failed to protect 25% of lands and waters by 2025

Three major rivers — the Seal, Nelson and Churchill — converge in Western Hudson Bay, Debicki said. The waterways are summering habitat for more than a quarter of the global beluga population, and are a meeting ground for a rich mix of species, from polar bears and seals to migratory birds. Oceans North has been advocating for a conservation area in the region since Parks Canada first identified it as a potential site in 2017.

The cool waters of Western Hudson Bay provide summering grounds for more than a quarter of the global beluga population, in addition to other marine species. Photo: Sarah Lawrynuik / Winnipeg Free Press

“If Manitoba is serious about balanced development, we must ensure our economic ambitions don’t outpace our responsibility,” Debicki said. 

Tuesday’s announcement comes against a backdrop of renewed political attention on Manitoba’s northern port. Provincial leaders in the Prairies have pitched the Port of Churchill as a future international trade hub and economic driver. Manitoba has proposed an expansion that would include critical mineral storage, railway upgrades, ice-breaking capacity and the ability to export resources like natural gas. 

Pipe dreams: decoding the political debate on shipping oil through Manitoba’s Arctic port

Prime Minister Mark Carney recently identified the proposed “Churchill Plus” expansion as one of seven “transformative strategies” being handled by the newly minted Major Projects Office. The federal government has announced more than $175 million in funding for the project and is working with the province and port owners, Arctic Gateway Group, to study the economics of the expansion. 

The province also plans to sign a non-disclosure agreement and enter in-depth discussions with a major energy company regarding a potential pipeline to the port, the premier said in late January. 

“When we’re talking about pursuing export and import along Hudson Bay, we can’t do that without thinking about the environment,” Kinew said. 

“Instead of just trying to build up some massive export terminal and then wait for environmentalists or land users, water users to highlight the downsides years in the future, we’re saying let’s have that conversation now.”

Marine conservation areas protect both coastal and freshwater ecosystems and their inhabitants, which include polar bears in Western Hudson Bay. Oceans North, a national conservation organization, has been advocating for a conservation area in this region of Manitoba since Parks Canada first identified it as a potential site in 2017. Photo: Sarah Lawrynuik / Winnipeg Free Press

The province plans to consult with researchers, First Nations, Inuit and Dene communities, local residents, as well as the tourism and business industries as part of the study process. Kinew stressed the province’s approach to developing the port — which is being spearheaded by a first-of-its-kind Crown-Indigenous corporation uniting First Nations, Métis and provincial leaders — will ensure Indigenous nations take the lead in deciding what developments take place.

York Factory First Nation Chief Darryl Wastesicoot said his nation’s priority is to find a healthy balance of economic development and environmental protection. He is focused on establishing educational opportunities in the region so the community can play a role in determining what that balance should look like. 

“We’re not against industry, we’re not against progress,” Wastesicoot said. “We just want to be part of it. Our goal, for my nation, is that we get out of this poverty we’re in.” 

No timeline has been set for the feasibility study, though Moyes noted a similar study for the nearby Seal River watershed protected area took approximately one year. Parks Canada will take the lead establishing terms of reference and outlining the study area. 

Julia-Simone Rutgers is a reporter covering environmental issues in Manitoba. Her position is part of a partnership between The Narwhal and the Winnipeg Free Press.

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The latest power struggle over the future of the Canadian economy — a hypothetical new pipeline from Alberta to the B.C. coast — has devolved into a rote debate: are First Nations blocking economic progress?

Coastal First Nations — an alliance of nine First Nations along the north coast of B.C. — have reiterated their strong support for the oil tanker ban the federal government put in place in 2019. It prohibits tankers carrying more than 12,500 metric tons of oil from travelling through their waters but is threatened by the pipeline proposed by Alberta Premier Danielle Smith and endorsed nominally by Prime Minister Mark Carney. B.C. Premier David Eby has pointed out the project has “no proponent, no route, no money.”

A guide to Carney’s pipeline deal — and the climate policies it weakens

Such a pipeline would offer “unprecedented opportunities for Indigenous ownership, partnership, economic benefits, as well as substantial economic benefits for the people of British Columbia,” Carney has said, suggesting that the right incentives might change Indigenous opponents’ tune. But Marilyn Slett, elected chief of Heiltsuk Nation and president of Coastal First Nations, told APTN in a recent interview that it “isn’t about money in this situation.”

“It’s about the responsibility of looking after our territories and nurturing the sustainable economies that we currently have here.” 

It’s easy to file this away as more evidence of a familiar narrative: that First Nations are opposed to the economic progress that Canada needs to grow. In 2026, that narrative includes Canada’s need to protect itself from increasingly unpredictable threats (we all know from who) and attain true security and sovereignty as a nation. 

This is a tired line of argument. The Canadian economy does not depend on an imaginary pipeline, nor on just its oil and gas, logging and mining companies (many of which don’t mean much for Canadian sovereignty, as they are foreign-owned). They are pieces of the economic puzzle, but far from the only ones; mining and oil and gas make up around seven per cent of the national GDP. 

The marine ecosystems Coastal First Nations are fighting to protect are also part of the economy, and it’s time we started considering their values too.

Guardians steward and protect Indigenous territories, including coastal waters, bolstering environmental protections while also creating jobs. Photo: Jimmy Thomson / The Narwhal

Undermining legitimate territorial interests is a lazy argument against conservation

Let me get another tired trope out of the way: the attempt to weaken conservation and protection arguments by challenging who is Indigenous enough to have them. Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre and others have painted Coastal First Nations as an “anti-pipeline group” that “doesn’t speak for” Indigenous communities. This is demonstrably untrue — its members are chief and council members of represented First Nations along the north coast. 

While it’s true there are dozens of First Nations with territorial interests along the full coast of B.C., the members of Coastal First Nations are speaking for what happens in their specific marine territories. We’ve seen this kind of argument before, as when Coastal GasLink proclaimed its agreements with 20 First Nations as sufficient proof of Indigenous support — even though none of those nations had territory that intersected with the pipeline. 

But what a First Nation along the southern coast or elsewhere in the province might hypothetically think about the oil tanker ban matters less than those whose territories are actually impacted — though groups that represent far more B.C. First Nations, including the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs and the B.C. Assembly of First Nations, have also called to uphold the tanker ban. 

Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks are a major tourist attraction, supported voluntarily by contributions from dozens of businesses in Tofino, B.C., and just one example of how First Nations-led conservation creates economic value in B.C. Photo: Stephanie Wood / The Narwhal

On to what matters: shortsighted discussions of the economy in Canada that begin and end with the resource sector. 

Part of the animosity towards First Nations’ opposition to resource projects is the belief that consultation and consent slows down projects and adds to their costs. But breaching or ignoring Indigenous Rights generally results in expensive lawsuits for Canadian governments — time and again, courts across the country have affirmed that territorial rights exist, and awarded Indigenous communities sizable settlements when they are breached. And nothing slows down a project like a long court battle. 

That doesn’t mean projects aren’t still proposed, started and completed without consent, but politicians are beginning to understand that working with First Nations (rather than losing to them repeatedly in court) has economic advantages. In B.C. Eby has championed deals in Nisga’a Nation for the Ksi Lisims LNG project and Tahltan Nation for mining — even as he vows to revise the province’s landmark Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act.

‘Extremely offensive’: B.C. premier’s plans to change Indigenous Rights law met with frustration

What Eby hasn’t mentioned lately is one of B.C.’s most economically beneficial agreements to date: the Great Bear Rainforest, a protected area created in partnership between Coastal First Nations, Nanwakolas Council and the province, which has generated $1.77 billion in economic activity for B.C. since its inception in 2008, according to a November 2025 report. According to 2025 figures, for every dollar of direct investment, the protected area has generated $5.61 in revenue in sectors like eco-tourism, fisheries and manufacturing. 

British Columbia’s multimillion-dollar mining problem

So why do we hear so much about resource industries — and so little about the other facets of our economy, particularly those that protect our environments rather than degrade them? One reason could be the enormous sums spent by the oil and gas industry on lobbying politicians and advertising to the public — often with misleading claims that downplay the incontrovertible links between fossil fuels and the climate crisis. (And Canada just made it easier for them to greenwash their activities.)

Upholding First Nations rights within their own territories is worth doing for its own sake. But we should also remember a functional economy requires a functional environment. 

Floods, wildfires, droughts and heat waves cause preventable deaths and hundreds of millions in damages, hospital visits, evacuation costs and soaring insurance premiums. These events are not random; they are caused by climate change and the destruction of our landscapes. To protect and restore these ecosystems requires, in part, respecting and upholding the rights of the First Nations who look after them. 

In B.C. alone, Indigenous tourism generates more than $1.1 billion in economic activity each year, driven by Canadians and international visitors who value time in nature and want to experience the lands and waters stewarded by First Nations. Every year, over 1.2 million people visit Tofino, B.C., in Tla-o-qui-aht territory, many to explore the shaded old-growth forest trails and shorelines of the Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks. In Tofino, 127 businesses have signed on to voluntarily share revenue with the Tribal Parks stewards to support activities like Guardians programs and trail maintenance, in recognition of the economic value of a flourishing, protected ecosystem. 

Functional ecosystems are part of a functional economy; for coastal communities, an oil spill would be ecologically, culturally and economically catastrophic. Photo: Melissa Renwick / The Narwhal

Each decision made by governments, industry and individuals is shaping the future of the Canadian economy every day. It’s worth remembering we all have a stake in it. First Nations rejecting oil tankers in their waters are not hindering the national economy, but arguing for a different balance of priorities. There’s more than one way to build an economy.

We overvalue resource projects and underestimate their costs

Despite this, Canada’s vision for economic development seems narrow in scope; a selection of energy and natural resource projects. These tend to be pitched as windfall scenarios, but the economic benefits often fall far short of what’s promised. A 2024 study in the journal Facets, which analyzed the 27 mines in B.C. granted permits since 1997, found that 13 never began operating at all. Only 12 per cent of promised jobs ever materialized, and less than a quarter of predicted ore was actually mined. 

Eby announced on Jan. 21 the continuation of mining activities at Mount Milligan near Fort St. James, trumpeting the 574 “good, family-supporting jobs” that will be extended until the mine closes in 2035. But mining jobs, even “good” ones, end eventually, and all Canadians are often left to bear clean-up costs — which can range into the billions for mines like B.C.’s Elk Valley coal mine.

Meanwhile, the Great Bear Rainforest has been supporting 373 full-time jobs for 17 years, with no end in sight, while also protecting the environment.

Which sounds like the better economic bargain? Environment aside, a catastrophic spill prompted by lifting the oil tanker ban could threaten those jobs and destroy a profitable, sustainable piece of our economy. Is it really worth the risk? 

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More than 5,000 wild species are at some risk of extinction in Canada, largely because the places they live are disappearing. Yet despite repeated promises, Canada appears to have failed to meet its target of protecting 25 per cent of its forests, grasslands, rivers, lakes, peatlands and oceans by 2025. 

As of December 2024 the country had conserved 13.8 per cent of land and fresh water and 15.5 of ocean areas — falling “well short” of its targets, Akaash Maharaj, policy director at the conservation charity Nature Canada, said in an interview. While the final accounting isn’t in yet, it’s unlikely Canada closed the gap in the intervening year. 

A series of reports from the federal commissioner of the environment and sustainable development late last year also warned Canada was not on track to meet either its 2025 target or its international commitments to conserve 30 per cent of land and waters by 2030 under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework.

The 30-by-30 target, one of almost two dozen targets in the international agreement designed to work together to stave off catastrophic nature declines, aims to secure the habitats plants and animals need to survive and is largely regarded as the minimum needed to guard against further losses.

An Inuit-led national marine conservation area next to Torngat Mountains National Park in northern Labrador is one of several projects that could help Canada meet its international conservation commitments. The Liberals committed in the 2025 election to establish 10 new national parks and 10 national marine conservation areas. Photo: Pat Kane / The Narwhal

Nathalie Provost, Canada’s secretary of state for nature whose role in cabinet is focused on reaching the 30-by-30 target, said missing the 2025 conservation goal was “a disappointment.”

The federal government remains committed to meeting the 30-by-30 target, she said, but Ottawa needs the buy-in of provincial and territorial governments to succeed.

Finding innovative ways to finance nature protection, in line with Prime Minister Mark Carney’s commitment to cut government spending and increase investment, remains a key focus, said Provost.

Steven Guilbeault, the former Liberal environment minister who helped shepherd the global biodiversity treaty into fruition, said he remains optimistic Canada can meet its next milestone.

Not every conservation project in development across the country is reflected in the federal database where efforts are tracked, he said.

Valérie Courtois, director of the Indigenous Leadership Initiative, said there are more than 100 proposals for Indigenous Conserved and Protected Areas which could bring Canada closer to its conservation goals if they had the financial support they need.

The future of conservation in Canada depends on Indigenous protected areas. So what are they?

But funding for long-term management remains an outstanding issue, she warned, which forces Indigenous governments to weigh large-scale conservation endeavours against other items on their already-stretched budgets. 

It’s a challenge Jerry DeMarco, the commissioner of the environment and sustainable development, a federal environmental watchdog, also underscored in a November report. 

DeMarco noted, for instance, that the federal government typically provided short-term funding of five years or less for Indigenous-led conservation programs, which created an inherent risk funding would not be renewed, affecting long-term outcomes.

Are Canada’s conservation milestones at odds with its critical mineral strategy?

At the same time, Canada is grappling with the economic fallout from U.S. President Donald Trump’s trade war and broader geopolitical tensions. In response, federal, provincial and territorial governments are pursuing new critical minerals projects with renewed vigour. 

Critical minerals, including copper, nickel and lithium, are essential components in digital technologies like cellphones and laptops, renewable energy systems such as solar panels and wind turbines and the batteries required for both. They’re also used for satellites, defence applications, including weapons and jet engines and a range of other things.

‘Metals are the new oil’: B.C. fast-tracks critical minerals projects to counter tariffs

But Canada’s pursuit of new mining projects has the potential to conflict with its conservation commitments as both require large swaths of land.

In a June report, the International Energy Agency said about 35 per cent of Canada’s mineral resources important for the energy transition overlap with lands that are also important for biodiversity and remain unprotected. 

“The government is absolutely right to put economic development and economic security for Canadians at the top of the political agenda,” Maharaj, with Nature Canada, said, noting there’s a deep economic anxiety felt across the country at the moment.

However, he warned, “The only way to sustainably grow the economy so that it’s generating jobs, not just for today, but a generation hence, is to build an economy that’s based on environmental protection and the strengthening of nature.”

An expansion of the Red Chris mine, which produces copper, gold and silver is being considered for fast-tracking as part of the federal government’s push to develop major projects. Photo: Garth Lenz / The Narwhal

Tara Shea, the vice-president of regulatory and Indigenous affairs at the Mining Association of Canada, said she doesn’t see conservation and expanded mining as mutually exclusive.

The industry association supports ambitious, evidence-based actions to protect biodiversity, she said, pointing to its longstanding sustainable mining initiative, which, among other things, offers guidelines for nature conservation.

But Canada also has commitments to meet the needs of the energy transition and secure critical mineral supply chains for its allies, according to Shea. 

“In Canada, we have the minerals and the opportunity. We also benefit from robust environmental standards,” she said. “It does make sense for us to expand our sector here.”

Guilbeault, who resigned from Carney’s cabinet late last year over the prime minister’s early support of a new pipeline out of Alberta, said mining for critical minerals is necessary to combat the threats posed by climate change.

“We can’t do the transition away from fossil fuels without moving toward a world where electricity becomes the dominant source of energy,” he said. “So we have to do this, but we can do it right.”

Courtois also sees potential for both conservation and new mining, particularly in areas where mining projects can bolster communities and local economies. 

“But we can’t do that blindly, we can’t do that by ignoring the learnings that we’ve had in the last few decades around things like environmental risk,” she said.

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.

Ontario Premier Doug Ford signed an agreement with the last of three First Nations along Ontario’s proposed road to the Ring of Fire last week, promising it would “change lives.” But the announcement comes as neighbouring nations urge the premier to balance his priorities with environmental protection and addressing long-standing issues in their communities. 

Marten Falls First Nation — a small fly-in Anishinaabe community approximately 400 kilometres northeast of Thunder Bay — signed the agreement with the Ontario government on Nov. 27 to help manifest a more prosperous future, the chief said. Ford’s Progressive Conservatives will give the nation $39.5 million to address local infrastructure issues in exchange for Marten Falls submitting its environmental assessment for the 184-kilometre road to the Ring of Fire by Feb. 20. 

The Ford government has made similar agreements with Webequie and Aroland First Nations, both of which are along the route to the mineral-rich Ring of Fire — a crescent-shaped deposit in the James Bay Lowlands in northwestern Ontario that has become a linchpin in both federal and provincial plans to mitigate the impacts of U.S. trade tariffs. The region can only be accessed by plane or winter roads, routes that can be driven on for a few weeks in the snowy season to bring in essential supplies, everything from food and medicine to construction materials. 

The Ontario government has secured agreements with Aroland, Webequie and Marten Falls First Nations, the three Indigenous communities along the proposed route to the Ring of Fire. Map: Ontario government

With the funding from this agreement, Marten Falls First Nation believes it could build a new community centre, an upgraded wastewater system and a power line. 

The community has been under a decades-long boil water advisory and a separate state of emergency, due to a failure at its wastewater plant that resulted in sewage leaking into a creek connected to its water treatment plant. 

“It’s all about working in partnership and living together in peace and being able to prosper together,” Chief Bruce Achneepineskum told reporters at Queen’s Park on Nov. 25. 

Ontario Premier Doug Ford shakes hands with Marten Falls First Nation Chief Bruce Achneepineskum, promising the agreement would “change their lives.” Photo: Nathan Denette / The Canadian Press

If all goes well, the Ford government expects to begin construction on the road in August 2026, “subject to the federal government ending its duplicative impact assessments in the region,” the government’s news release of its agreement with Marten Falls said. Consultations for how to do that are open now until Dec. 15.

“It’s time the federal government steps up and helps out. I’ll be all over them on this one,” Ford said when announcing the agreement. “Let’s get some money so that they can pave their runway, get money so that they can have a proper wastewater system.” 

“But yeah, put down the cash, get out of the way and we’ll handle everything else,” Ford added.

The draft environmental assessment for the Marten Falls road found it could improve the quality of life for many people, but also affect cultural traditions and impact wildlife and the environment more broadly.

Ring of Fire road could improve quality of life, but lead to cultural and environmental change: report

On Thursday, Ford told reporters he wants “all communities involved, even if it doesn’t impact them.” 

“I want them all part of it. I want to change their lives,” he said. “Years down the road, when I’m pushing out tulips, I hope they’re saying, ‘There’s Ford, he helped us change our lives and gave us the electricity, gave us opportunity, gave us training, gave us, you know, x, y and z.’ That’s what I want to do.” 

But before any of that happens, the Ontario government has to secure buy-in from all Indigenous communities, which remains tenuous. While the Ford government has made agreements with three First Nations, others are continuing to make their opposition and demands clear — citing concerns about lack of meaningful consultations, environmental protections and clear information — as the spotlight firmly remains on their lands.

Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug chief asks Doug Ford to ‘balance it out’ by permanently protecting the nation’s homelands from mining

An hour before the government announced its agreement with Marten Falls First Nation, leaders from neighbouring Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug and Wapekeka First Nation came to Queen’s Park to demand the permanent protection of three million hectares of their homelands, just northwest of the Ring of Fire.

About 20 years ago, both First Nations passed their own laws declaring their lands were closed off to mining claims in perpetuity. These lands are 48 times larger than the city of Toronto and include boreal forest and sensitive peatlands, both sequestering massive amounts of carbon dioxide. 

Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug is asking the Ontario government to permanently protect three million hectares of its homelands, which include boreal forest and sensitive peatlands. Photo: Lyndon Nanokeesic

Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug Chief Donny Morris challenged Ford to offer that same protection so that “in the future, these lands are secured — secured in a way where there’s no disturbances until we feel ourselves in that region that we’re ready for whatever opportunities there are in the future.”

“We need to do more to protect our waters, our lands and animals,” he told reporters. “And I think this is where we’re asking Doug Ford, let’s sit down. Let’s have a discussion, government-to-government.”

Chief Morris said if the premier was set on bringing mining to the Ring of Fire, he could “balance it out” by preserving Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug and Wapekeka’s homelands. “That’s why we’re here, offering [Doug Ford] an option to support us, walk with us. Let’s see how far we can go.”

Officials from Neskantaga First Nation receive personal calls from Ford about another road to the Ring of Fire

Neskantaga First Nation has been under a boil-water advisory for more than 30 years — the longest in effect in Canada. Still, Chief Gary Quisess said no one in the Ontario government has tried to help. “I haven’t seen any government people or provincial people come here in a community to support our needs,” he told The Narwhal.

Instead, in recent weeks, Quisess said senior officials with the nation have received phone calls from Ford and Indigenous Affairs Minister Greg Rickford seeking support for a new “east-west crossing” — a proposed alternative to the Northern Road Link route that goes through Marten Falls, Webequie and Aroland First Nations. 

“We see this as an act of desperation,” Quisess said, “probably to try and get their wish.” 

Members of Neskantaga First Nation continue to protest against the Ontario government’s push to fast-track a road to and mining in the Ring of Fire. This has included demonstrations at Queen’s Park, as seen above. Photo: Sid Naidu / The Narwhal

A senior official from Rickford’s office, speaking on background, told The Narwhal the government is broadly looking at all options to get to the Ring of Fire, including this one, and having many conversations about it.

The east-west crossing was proposed in 2017 by the previous Liberal government led by former premier Kathleen Wynne. It was pitched as an overland route to the Ring of Fire, paving an existing winter road system that connects to provincial highways and follows the now-built Watay Power transmission line. 

The government official told The Narwhal discussions about this crossing have been extremely preliminary; no route, path or plan has yet been decided. 

The government has begun preliminary conversations about other routes to the Ring of Fire, including one that would pave an existing winter-road network alongside Watay Power, a largely Indigenous-owned 1,800-kilometre transmission line, now curving through northern Ontario’s peatlands. Photo: Supplied by Dan Garrity / Wataynikaneyap Power

But Quisess remains skeptical as a leader who hasn’t yet been officially consulted on any of this — while calls went to his officials, no one called him. The government, he said, “is jumping over us,” as members of his community have set up an encampment at a potential river crossing where the road could be built.  

“We have lots of things that need to be fixed first before the Ring of Fire,” he said. “[The] Ring of Fire is not going to happen without Neskantaga.”

“Yes, we have a lot of rich minerals in our backyard, but that’s not going to be touched because we’re not happy,” he added. “We’re getting excluded. We’re getting bypassed. We are in the middle of this soup called Ring of Fire, which the whole world wants, but they don’t care who’s inside the Ring of Fire.”

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Canadians everywhere are planning where to hike, swim or set up a picnic this long weekend — and top of that list, for many British Columbians, will be the turquoise-blue waters and mountainous views of Joffre Lakes Provincial Park. When the portal to reserve a day pass opens at 7:00 a.m. two days in advance, hundreds of hopeful hikers click frantically as they vie for spots that book up within moments.

Joffre Lakes is just one of many places to see glacial lakes and rivers in the Sea-to-Sky area. But it has status. It’s Instagram-famous. It’s undeniably beautiful. And in recent years, it’s become a site of conflict over the competing priorities of Indigenous Rights, conservation and public access.

On a typical summer weekend, the trails and lakes of Joffre Lakes are crowded with visitors. A log that extends into the turquoise waters of Middle Joffre Lake has become an especially popular photo site.

The area’s original name is Pipi7íyekw in Ucwalmícwts, the language spoken by the Líl̓wat (Lil’wat) and N’Quatqua nations. The nations were under the impression they’d reached an agreement with B.C. to close the park from Aug. 22 to Oct. 23 this year, to mitigate stress on the ecosystem and allow Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua citizens time to harvest and connect with the land that is otherwise challenging to carry out due to the crowds.

On an average summer Saturday, hikers line the trail like students after the bell rings, foot-to-foot, one behind the other. Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua have been working with B.C. since 2018 to co-manage the park and establish regular closures to let the land recover from the constant trampling of feet. A management plan for the park was identified as a joint priority since annual visits to the park spiked, and more than tripled between 2010 and 2019, impacting safety and visitor experience as well as the First Nations’ rights.

But Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua felt the rug pulled from under them on Aug. 19, when B.C. announced to the public that the park would be open over Labour Day weekend, and the closure would be shortened from two months to one month. The nations say B.C. went ahead without informing them in advance, and in full knowledge the nations opposed a shorter closure.

Last Friday, they held a ceremony on Highway 99 to mark the day they intended the park closure to begin. Members and supporters of the two nations blocked traffic in either direction for roughly two hours to raise awareness of how their partnership with the province, to them, had been betrayed. 

Líl̓wat citizen Amanda Ritchie holds a flag at the ceremony and road closure Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua nations held last week. They denounced British Columbia’s decision to open Pipi7íyekw (Joffre Lakes Provincial Park) during the closure dates they say both parties agreed upon.

Cars idle and drivers walk along Highway 99 where Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua nations halted traffic on Aug. 22 to hold ceremony and denounce B.C. for opening Joffre Lakes Provincial Park despite the nations opposing the decision. On Aug. 19, the province announced the park would be open over Labour Day weekend, despite the nations’ wishes.

In a joint management strategy signed in 2018, BC Parks and both nations committed to “work collaboratively, in good faith, with respect for one another,” Casey Gonzalez, director of land, resources and infrastructure for Líl̓wat, told The Narwhal.

To Gonzalez, BC Parks announcing new closure dates without the nations’ buy-in means “they are not upholding that end of their commitment.” 

“They need to come back, speak with the nations with an open heart and an open mind and be ready to actually collaborate without this back-minded mentality that they are the ultimate decision-makers of our unceded territories,” she said.

Lil’wat community member Kalentitikwa helps guide traffic on Highway 99 after the road closure Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua nations held in Mount Currie on Aug. 22, calling on B.C. to honour its partnership with the two First Nations.

While Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua nations have seen some hateful posts online, Casey Gonzalez said by and large they encounter support. Above, three onlookers witness and listen to the ceremony the nations held on the highway.

The Narwhal requested an interview with the Minister of Environment and Parks or another spokesperson, but the ministry sent an emailed statement instead. “We acknowledge the nations had requested additional closure dates, beyond what we were prepared to agree to,” it said. “We always want to work collaboratively with First Nations partners.”

The ministry said it had several meetings with the nations, but Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua say those meetings reached no collaborative resolution.

In its announcement of the new closure dates, the ministry said it chose a schedule it believes “balances cultural practices, conservation goals and public access to the park.” 

Líl̓wat citizen and former councillor Linda Dan participated in the Friday ceremony. Afterwards, she sat on the side of the road, watching large semi-trailer trucks pass. “We only need this [closure] for a short window, for our gathering of food,” she said, but still, “we are not heard.”

“Education needs to continue on who we really are and what we stand for,” she added. “We don’t mean to hurt anybody. We come in peace. We’re trying to do reconciliation.”

Casey Gonzalez listens while Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua nations gather in ceremony on Highway 99. She said the nations have been co-managing the park with B.C. since 2018, and their faith in the province is shaken.

Keeping Joffre Lakes open was a ‘sticking point’ for some constituents, Líl̓wat director said she was told by B.C.

According to Gonzalez, the nations chose the original closure dates and informed park staff in December, but those staff have since been removed and relocated. In May, Minister of Environment and Parks Tamara Davidson visited Pipi7íyekw, and the nations affirmed their expectation the dates would still be met. She said B.C. told the nations in June it wanted the park opened for Labour Day.

Gonzalez said the nations met with Davidson and staff again on Aug. 18, and said they still expected the initial closure dates they discussed in December 2024 to go ahead. “[Davidson] had eight months for their staff to implement this,” Gonzalez said.

Gonzalez said ministry staff told her at that meeting that people wanted access over Labour Day and it was a “sticking point” for constituents. The next day, B.C. announced publicly the park would remain open for the long weekend and the closure would be one month. Gonzalez said B.C. did not tell the nations its intention to go ahead with its own dates. However, in a statement provided to The Narwhal, the ministry wrote “We communicated our final closure schedule—aligned with last year’s agreement—to the Lil’wat Nation and N’Quatqua before it was made public.”

“Throughout negotiations, our position was clear: we intended to stick to a closure schedule that aligned with the balanced approach agreed to last year. We have a responsibility to support public access to parks while also respecting First Nations cultural practices and conservation goals. Although a final agreement for 2025 was not reached, this year’s closure schedule honoured the approach agreed to for the 2024 season,” the ministry wrote. It added that improving advance notice to park visitors is also a priority.

“The final 68 days of closures are consistent with the 60 agreed-to closure dates from last year, rather than the 103 closure dates requested by the nations,” the ministry of environment said in a previous emailed statement.

It pointed out the nations and B.C. collaboratively brought in the day pass, and reduced it from 1,000 people per day to 500 per day in 2024, which has reduced some of its concerns around over-capacity.

Linda Dan (right) says she’s surprised and hurt she needs to tell others that she and her community members “come in peace” and want to protect the land. Photos: Paige Taylor White / The Narwhal

The nations and B.C. agreed to close the park for three weeks earlier this year, from Apr. 25 to May 16. They had picked the fall closure dates to align with when berries and medicines are available and traditionally harvested. Outside of those dates, the park is open to the public.

“The community wants to be in Pipi7íyekw to harvest in the fall season, harvest our medicines and our food for the winter,” Gonzalez said.

Dan said the nations’ members have been confined to reserves, a tiny portion of the territories they took care of and lived off of before colonization. None of this land was given up by agreement or treaty, but they were forcibly constrained to small plots of land anyway — and not often where they would have spent most of their time. If the land was desirable, it was more likely to be taken by the Crown.

“Our ancestors were up every one of these mountains,” Dan said. “The government put us in reserves … They put us here, we barely had anything — and we made something of it.” 

Now, countless cars pass through their Mount Currie reserve on the way to Joffre Lakes.

Most interactions with non-nation members are positive, Líl̓wat director said

Some of the online rhetoric in response to the closures has been volatile, denying the nations’ rights to the area and speculating the nations are blocking access for nefarious or selfish reasons. Such posts have said the nation is forcing closures unilaterally, despite its ongoing negotiations and collaboration with B.C. since 2018. Some posts on Reddit had to be removed by moderators for racist language.

First Nations are closing B.C. parks. Should you be mad?

“It’s hard to send a message out to deaf ears,” Amanda Ritchie, a Líl̓wat community member, said.

Dan said these kinds of comments have been “very hurtful.” But in many posts, people also have said they supported the closures, saw the environmental benefit and recognized that First Nations have unceded rights to their lands, protected by Canada’s constitution.

Gonzalez said in her experience “90 per cent” of interactions with non-Indigenous folks about the closure are positive — but that last minority is loud.

Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua First Nations plan to do a cumulative effects assessment during the September closure of Joffre Lakes Park. During this time members will be able to harvest and do the famous hike in their territory — some for the first time.

Líl̓wat councillor Maxine Bruce at the ceremony held by Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua First Nations. The nations are determined to advocate for their inherent rights to the area.

At the closure, The Narwhal only heard one report of a driver who yelled and swerved past a car blocking the street. Far more people waited or pulled over to see what was going on, and many honked in support once traffic opened up and they passed by the remaining Líl̓wat and N’Quatqua members lining the highway.

Ritchie said oral stories of Pipi7íyekw tell of people going there to gain strength. Despite this latest setback in negotiations with the province, the nations’ members are looking forward to reconnecting with the land as it rests. 

“We would go up there for harvesting and trapping,” she said. “It’s what sustains us and keeps us healthy.”

Kalentitikwa, also from Líl̓wat, said she will hike Joffre Lakes for the first time during the September closure. “I’m excited to take my baby out there. She’s only two and she loves eating berries fresh off of the land,” she said.

“It’s awesome to see that she’s able to do something that I did when I was her age, in our own backyards, and now we can go up to Joffre with our family and our friends and the rest of the nation, and we can just be St’át’imc on St’át’imc land.”

Updated on August 28, 2025 at 12:35 p.m PT: This story has been updated to include additional statements from the Ministry of Environment and Parks, which were provided to The Narwhal after publication time.

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In this explainer video Michelle Cyca, senior editor at The Narwhal, dives into Indigenous sovereignty: what it means, and how Indigenous-led conservation can help to protect our ecosystems. 

We’ll start by defining key terms you need to know. Then we’ll get into the nitty gritty — what Indigenous sovereignty really means, how it’s connected to Indigenous-led conservation and why it’s important for Canada’s economic and environmental future.

Want to make sure you don’t miss our latest work? Subscribe to our channel on YouTube and follow us on TikTok. 

Thanks for watching!

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It was an emotional moment for Gillian Staveley when the B.C. government and five Indigenous nations announced earlier this month that they were embarking on new land-use planning across the northwest.

“To us, it was a huge milestone,” said Staveley, the director of culture and land stewardship at the Dena Kayeh Institute, a non-profit focused on protecting and empowering Kaska Dena language and Traditional Knowledge.

For decades, the Kaska Nation has been working to protect its homelands. The nation has proposed a four million hectare Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area (IPCA) called Dene K’éh Kusān. The hope is that the province will formally recognize the IPCA in the final land-use plan for the area.

“This isn’t just about protecting land and leaving it be, it is really, truly about protecting a way of life,” Staveley said.

“[Dene K’éh Kusān is] a promise to our ancestors and our children that we will uphold our role as land stewards. Formal recognition by B.C. would help give that promise the legal and political standing it deserves,” she said.

The B.C. government is simultaneously undertaking land-use planning processes with the Kaska Dena, Tahltan, Taku River Tlingit, Gitanyow and Nisga’a nations. The timeline is ambitious. Over the next year, they plan to gather broad input and develop plans that outline which areas will be protected and which will be open to new resource development. Online surveys to gather community input are now open. Mineral staking across a third of the area has been paused for one year as the planning process unfolds. 

The Kechika River, called Tāhad̄źěhʼ in the Kaska language, falls within the Kaska Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area. Photo: Taylor Roades / The Narwhal

At a time when numerous wildlife populations in B.C. are declining in the face of increasing habitat loss, the land-use planning process offers an opportunity to conserve vast stretches of land and water home to salmon, caribou, grizzly bears and many other species — a move that would also support B.C.’s commitment to conserve 30 per cent of land and waters by 2030.

But the land-use planning announcement also came at a time of political tension in B.C., as the NDP government pushed through controversial legislation aimed at fast-tracking infrastructure and resource development projects it deems to be of significance amid an ongoing trade war with the United States. Both Premier David Eby and Mining and Critical Minerals Minister Jagrup Brar have positioned the northwest as key to B.C.’s economic prosperity moving forward.

“I, like so many others, share deep concerns about bills 14 and 15, but at the same time, we’re also very encouraged by the commitment that we are seeing in our region in particular,” Staveley said. “It’s not perfect, but I would say it is an example of what can happen when Indigenous leadership is respected.”

Here’s what Staveley had to say about Dene K’éh Kusān and the land-use planning process now underway.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

To start, can you tell me a little bit about the Kaska proposal for Dene Kʼéh Kusān?

Dene Kʼéh Kusān is the Kaska’s vision for an [Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area] that we have in the heart of our ancestral territory in northern B.C. It means “the people’s way we follow” in our language, and we named it that as a reminder of the responsibility that a lot of us as Kaska Dena feel that we have to the land and waters that we call home. So, it has a lot of meaning and reverence in our community.

It’s nearly 4 million hectares, so 40,000 square kilometers of land that we’re trying to protect. It’s a place with deep ecological and cultural significance. I think it’s important to emphasize the critical species that we’re trying to protect there, like the seven caribou herds that are in that region, but also our ancestral trails that have connected our communities for millennia.

The Kaska Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area, Dene K’éh Kusān, covers four million hectares in northern B.C. Map: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Is there a particular place in Dene Kʼéh Kusān that you hold most dear?

There are so many. This land that we’re trying to protect is where my family is from. It’s where I’ve spent a lot of time learning about our history and listening to our Elders and reconnecting, really, with our responsibilities as Kaska Dena. Some of those places that I hold such deep reverence towards are where my family lives to this day, in an area called Moose Lake. My family is working towards developing a conservation-based economy in that area already. It’s such a beautiful example of what’s going to be possible.

Some of the integral watersheds within that region, the Kechika River, the Liard River and the Turnagain River — Tāhad̄źěhʼ, Tāghʼagah Tuēh and GāhʼCho in the Kaska Language — are all really special places to me, personally, having gotten to spend a lot of time there growing up. It’s in the heartland you could say of our IPCA proposal. And what I think is of a really deep reverence to a lot of people, is the Atse Dena Tunna trail that connects our communities. That’s something that a lot of our people want to see protected and want to reconnect to as part of this work.

How significant is this land-use planning process in terms for the future of Dene Kʼéh Kusān?

I think we see it as this turning point. For decades the Kaska have been working hard to see our values reflected in how land is cared for and last week’s announcement showed that clear commitment from the province to walk on that path with us. It was pretty significant for us to see that the government’s willing to formally pause mineral staking in that area and commit to work with us to co-develop a land-use plan for our Traditional Territory in B.C. That’s not something we take lightly.

How are you feeling about the one-year timeline for this land-use planning process?

It’s totally ambitious. But I would say it’s not impossible. The Kaska Nation has already done so many years of work laying the groundwork for this, mapping, planning, consulting with our people. We’re not starting from scratch, and I think now we just need to make sure that the province is bringing that same readiness and capacity and urgency to the table.

Are there other challenges that you’re watching out for as you move forward?

The Kaska have been doing land-use planning for decades — 99 per cent of our territory in B.C. is covered in land-use plans. What’s different here is that we’re coming from a very shared land stewardship vision, which is the first time I’d say that we’ve been able to succeed in that work with the province.

We’re just going to need to make sure that when we’re updating those land-use plans that have already been developed that we’re reflecting on present day needs, but also future considerations, so that they can be more timeless. These plans that guide how the land is utilized and the relationship we have to it need to include ecosystem health, climate change, emergency response — all those elements that can help us address future challenges.

Protecting Dene Kʼéh Kusān isn’t just about protecting the land, Staveley said, it’s about protecting a way of life. Photo: Taylor Roades / The Narwhal

Why was it so important to see that pause on new mineral tenures?

If we’re going to be sitting down together and talking about values and priorities and interests, we need to make sure that area isn’t under threat. So when we were able to get that tenuring pause that was huge for us because it basically eliminated the threat of new placer and mineral claims or issuance of new coal licenses within that year period, so that we can just focus on what needs to be done.

Obviously it doesn’t impact existing tenure holders, but it at least allows us to make sure we’re not having a staking rush in our territory, which is something we have dealt with in other parts of our Traditional Territory.

Are there existing claims that are a concern and going to be up for discussion within the proposed Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area?

We thought through a lot of those elements when we were designing the IPCA boundaries and we netted out a lot of those huge resource development interests. So, there are very few mineral tenure holders in the IPCA area. The relationships we’ve developed with industry and stakeholders is also allowing us to feel a level of comfort, knowing that we’re doing this the right way, through communication and transparency and hopefully that will help us along as time goes on. Because that is always the biggest challenge with this work, and it’s what many other IPCA proposals are struggling with, is the mineral tenure buyouts.

The B.C. government has positioned the northwest as being both crucial to future economic prosperity, but for conservation. When you think about a year down the road, what are you hoping to see come out of the process in terms of balancing economic and resource development and conservation?

One of my biggest hopes through this work is that we’re going to get some sort of formal recognition of Dene Kʼéh Kusān as an IPCA. That’s the ultimate goal.

When we’re updating these land-use plans, we can have conversations about what we need to do to protect cultural and ecological values for generations to come but also look at more sustainable economic development. A big thing that we’re trying to achieve is growing the conservation economy in our region, and I know our neighboring nations feel the same. We want to be able to showcase that we can actually protect the land and provide meaningful land-based livelihoods for our people and the communities in the north and maybe that’ll be the model to build from in other parts of the province and across Turtle Island.

Updated June 19, 2025, at 11:30 a.m. PT: This story was updated to clarify that 99 per cent of Kaska territory in B.C. is covered by land-use plans.

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