Feb. 11 was the hardest day yet as MLA for interim B.C. Green Party leader Adam Olsen, or SȾHENEP.

In a solidarity action to support the hereditary chiefs of the Wet’suwet’en opposed to the Coastal GasLink pipeline crossing their traditional territory, hundreds of people blocked the doors to the legislature for a planned speech from the throne that would open B.C.’s new parliamentary session. 

Olsen, a citizen of the W̱SÁNEĆ (Saanich) Nation and member of the Tsartlip First Nation, was escorted through the crowd by members of the police as people shouted at him to ‘stand with Indigenous people.’ 

In an interview with The Narwhal, Olsen said he looked out at the crowd and thought, ‘I am.’

In a speech the following day, Olsen forcefully criticized MLAs in the assembly for the role they played in igniting the crisis, which to this day, is reverberating across the country in blockades, demonstrations and arrests. He also recalled his experience entering the B.C. legislative chamber in 2017 wrapped in a blanket with the support of his family.

“It is that powerful expression of love that my family showed for me, even after what generations of decision-makers in this very chamber did to them, that I must now show a compassion and love for this institution,” he told the chamber.

In conversation with The Narwhal, Olsen said he remains committed to his role in government, the empowerment of Indigenous governance and the country’s pursuit of reconciliation, despite challenges and setbacks.

This interview is edited for brevity. 

Q: How do you feel walking out of the chamber after your speech?

A: There was a lot of silence around me. A lot of people making busy. But I have no intention of making shortcuts. I really believe that part of the tragedy of where we stand right now is because the people in these institutions over the decades have been taking shortcuts on these issues and it hasn’t served us well in the past.

It’s not okay to ignore a decades-old problem … I heard the leader of the official opposition [BC Liberal Party Leader Andrew Wilkinson] talking about a ‘small group’ of people, kind of downplaying the Wet’suwet’en and hereditary chiefs and their legitimacy. It’s important to recognize that this is no small case. [The Delgamuukw decision] took years of preparation, months of testimony, and it is not to be undermined. 

This government put together an obscene, taxpayer-funded corporate welfare program that essentially lured the final investment decision out of LNG Canada. Our independent colleague [Andrew Weaver] spent a lot of time during the debate of that Income Tax Act stating that this is not the thing that we should be doing in a climate crisis, investing taxpayer money in an industry that can’t survive without it. That we should not be trying to attract the expansion of fossil fuel infrastructure. And that there were unresolved issues in Wet’suwet’en. 

So then to be told, “it’ll sort itself out, it’s fine” — the result is that it’s not being sorted out, it’s not fine. 

Q: In your speech you said the protest outside the legislature [on Feb. 11] was not peaceful for you or others approaching the building, but at the same time you understand where that rage is coming from. Where do you come out in your feelings of how everything has unfolded?

A: Well, I was trying to get in the building into another door, a side door, and I was being told by the people that were there that I should stand with Indigenous people. That I should be standing with Indigenous people. And I said, “but … but that’s me.”

They said, “stand with us, stand with us.” And I said, “I am” — in the sense that I’m raising these issues. I’m not standing outside because my job and my world is actually inside. While they might not agree with the institution, I was brought in here in a good way. Even in the face of the great challenges that my family has faced from the decisions of this institution, they brought me in here in a good way to do a job. 

B.C. Green Party interim leader and MLA Adam Olsen presses through a crowd of blockaders to enter the B.C. legislature Feb. 11. Photo: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

So then I went around the other way and the experience that I had was devastating to me. I don’t know, having a megaphone yelling in your ear demands and in a very angry way … I don’t know, it just stands for itself, it just is what it is. The picture is on the front page of the paper, you can see it, it was not a pleasant experience for me. 

I think I said it best in my speech. The advice I’ve been given by my elders is to be very careful with what we do with power. And you can use your power to build people up, or you can use the power to tear people down, and tearing it down is always far easier than building it up. Building it up requires a lot more work and a lot more investment and a lot more time. I come in here every day to build up.

I felt the pain of the people, and I speak to the substantive frustration that’s created by decisions about their future. I will persist here to continue to try to affect better outcomes and to do that work. I strongly believe there needs to be an understanding of what they’re saying, but there needs to be great care in how they say it. 

Saul Brown, Haíɫcístut negotiator from the Heiltsuk Nation, speaks to a crowd gathered outside the legislature. Photo: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Q: You’ve said you won’t threaten the stability of government by pulling Green support from the NDP, as some have called on you to do. What are some of the paths forward or solutions on your mind?

A: For the first time there’s an opportunity for Indigenous Peoples to embrace self-determination. There is an opportunity for feasts and potlatches and gatherings and coming together of Indigenous communities to talk about how they want to be governed … and to approach the provincial government and say “this is how we want to be engaging with you.” The government now has a law [The Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act] that says they have to respect that. That’s a new thing and a thing that we should celebrate.

I think the provincial government should be operating in good faith and really put a lot of resources in to show Indigenous people and the broader public that they mean what they say. That investment in moving forward and leaning in is really important in the next weeks and months going ahead.

A third piece, I think, is to rebuff at every time that it’s said that reconciliation is dead. No, it’s not. It cannot be. If it is, we die with it. We know too much, we’ve seen too much. There is no turning around on this path. I will continue and always rebuff a notion that we can simply say this little experiment over a few years didn’t work, so that’s it, it’s over. 

Crowds gather in support of Wet’suwet’en hereditary chiefs outside the B.C. legislature, where a sign, reading ‘reconciliation is dead,’ is posted on the lawn, Feb. 11. Photo: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

We live next door to one another, our kids go to school with one another. We have partnerships, we love each other. There are people like me who have got a mixed heritage, whose lives make zero sense if we’re at war and fighting with each other. I understand the frustration and I understand the statement. But I will also push back and say it may feel that way now, but I’m not giving up. In fact, this is the moment in which I push harder forward and look for a good way and a good outcome.

How the Wet’suwet’en crisis could have played out differently

Q: What sort of responses have you gotten to your media appearances?

A: The response has been, ‘thank you for explaining this.’ ‘Thank you for being willing to open up and be vulnerable about all the different aspects of this which are kind of kicking your ass right now.’ 

Because — and you can publish this — my ass is being kicked all sorts of different ways on this. 

Often times what ends up happening is rhetoric, propaganda, simple language, simple messaging. “Their issues.” “They’ll deal with it.” Nobody taking responsibility. I’m prepared to say where responsibility lies. Some of it has to do with deliberate government policy, some of it has to do with the dysfunctional relationship that evolved out of that.

It really makes the position that I am in enigmatic, in a way. I am kind of all parts of this conversation: the political, the social, the personal, the environmental, the economic. I kind of just got dropped right in the middle of it.

Indigenous youth occupy the B.C. legislature in a solidarity action with Wet’suwet’en hereditary chiefs on Feb. 11. Photo: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Q: That personal aspect you’ve mentioned, about your identity and having a mixed heritage. Do you feel an obligation to be a bridge between worlds? Does that drive some of what you do?

A: My origin story as a politician, or actually as a productive member of society, is I went through the sort of existential crisis of being ‘the other.’ I have referred to myself in the past as being the Indian in a room full of white people and the white person in a room full of Indians. It’s always been othering, right? 

It was a conversation I had at the turning point of my life when I was going through some of these really big questions that my grandmother, my dad’s mum, actually said those words to me: that as a person with a foot on both sides of the line, I have a really dramatic opportunity to be involved and to help bring this forward. I have no idea what she pictured in her mind when she saw that. And on Feb. 14 it will be, I think, 13 years since she passed. She was the matriarch, I am one of 275 descendants at the time of her passing directly from her. I got the honour of delivering and preparing her eulogy. I was given the beautiful honour of telling her story.

I don’t know what she pictured when she was giving me that advice, and she was sitting behind the click-clacking of her knitting needles. But her advice produced the first Saanich-born MLA. That’s pretty cool. So, for however long I get the honour of representing that place, I’ve just made the commitment to do it fiercely and with courage, and to try to advance the conversation as much as possible.

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When Heiltsuk elder Liz Brown was just a little girl, her mother sat her down on a chair, looked her in the eyes and told her to pay real close attention to detail.

Every wedding. Every community affair. Every custom. Every taboo.

The importance of handing down names and laws and stories from one generation to the next was impressed upon Brown, even as a little girl.

“Every week my mother would sit me down and tell me what I could not do, over and over and over again,” Brown said.

“She said … you need to watch and you need to listen, so you can learn everything. And I remember everything.”

For the Heiltsuk Nation, oral tradition was essential to the fight to keep their culture and traditions alive.

Unlike their bodies and unlike their big houses, oral tradition was something that couldn’t be buried. 

Or burned.

Elder Elizabeth Brown stands in front of her hereditary chiefs Frank Brown (left) and Anne Housty (right), beaming with pride as the dreams of her ancestors come true. Photo: Heiltsuk Tribal Council

Like many coastal First Nations in what is now known as British Columbia, recent Heiltsuk history is one filled with colonial violence. While archeological evidence dates the community back over 14,000 years, the last 200 years involves settlers arriving on Canada’s western shores, swept up in the promise of its riches: lumber, fish, fur.

The Heiltsuk nation’s customs and systems of governance were seen as an impediment to resource extraction and what settlers didn’t understand, they feared, and by 1885, the touchstones of community gatherings and traditional customs, like potlatching, were formally outlawed across Canada. 

By 1900, Heiltsuk communities were finding their masks, bentwood boxes, regalia and canoes pilfered or disappeared. The grand places of governance and ceremony — the big houses, the house posts — were hacked down and sent away. Or simply burned to the ground. 

Phil Gray, who is Ts’msyen and Cree, worked with Heiltsuk carver Ian (Nusi) Reid to craft elaborate posts for the big house. The pair saturated themselves in the study of traditional Heiltsuk-style poles, art and design. They wanted to bring to life the elements of “old true Heiltsuk style,” Reid said. Photo: Heiltsuk Tribal Council

For elders such as Brown, the strategic ruin of the Heiltsuk community and culture is a part of living memory. Amid the hostility of state law, the preservation of Heiltsuk tradition was forced underground, into the hands of little girls like Brown — customs maintained quietly and with great care, in whispers passed from grandmother to mother to child.

Brown said her people would gather in their homes with hereditary chiefs so they could get on with matters of business, far from the eyes of Indian agents, priests or others charged with prohibiting their ways of life. 

She admires the strength of her ancestors, who had to make do with a village hall that served as a de facto big house for weddings, naming ceremonies, tombstone rites or the transfer of power. 

The resurrection of culture was suppressed for decades after traditional places like big houses were destroyed — the potlatch ban wasn’t lifted until 1951. 

And a big house wouldn’t be lifted in the Heiltsuk village for another 120 years. That is, until now.

Indigenous relatives from around the world convene for big house opening

In less than one week, Brown’s effort to hold onto her community’s traditions and her mother’s devoted guidance will come full circle with the official opening of the Gvúkva’áus Haíłzaqv (Heiltsuk big house) in Waglisla, or Bella Bella, B.C. 

“Our ancestors believed that there were three values that Heiltsuk hold in order to be a really good community,” she said. “The first one is to be respectful, the other one is to share what you have with each other, and the last one, is to work together. And those values brought us to where we are today.”

The Heiltsuk community is grinding around the clock to open the big house in time for an anticipated 3,000 guests who’ll visit across five days to celebrate the momentous occasion. Guests will join in ceremony and song, witness dancers impersonate the supernatural on the big house floor, feast on coastal delicacies and experience the full power of a people in their rightful place.

Community members are working 10 hours a day, six days a week to finish painting the front of the big house — which is 25 metres wide and 10 metres high.

Each of the logs for the big house was hand picked, locally sourced and milled. Forty locals have been employed throughout the project. 

The Heiltsuk big house undergoing construction in September 2019. Photo: Louise Whitehouse / The Narwhal

Designs on the front of the big house represent the crests of the Haíɫzaqv (Heiltsuk) Nation. Photo taken September 16, 2019. Photo: Heiltsuk member Charity Gladstone

In many Indigenous communities in B.C., traditional λiác̓i (big house) are the customary space for acts of governance and ceremony.  

The ‘Namgis people have a big house in their territory in ‘Yalis (Alert Bay, Cormorant Island), built in 1999 after their original big house was destroyed. 

Brown attended a potlatch at the ‘Namgis big house and said while there she felt the strong presence of the ancestors of that place. She said she expects for the Heiltsuk, it will be the same. 

The event will be “a big family reunion,” she said, as relatives travel from far and wide to witness and participate in the historic occasion. 

Half of Heiltsuk membership live off of the reserve, she said, but almost all of her family will be making the trip home.

Elected Chief Councillor of the Heiltsuk Tribal Council, Marilyn Slett, said it will be more than just Heiltsuk members who attend the opening.

As dancers and singers prepare, and gifts and traditional food are readied, Indigenous relatives are beginning a journey to Bella Bella from the world over.

Maori from New Zealand, people from the Yukon and across B.C.’s coast will convene in Heiltsuk territory, along with a delegation of Haida, traveling south for a totem pole raising — upholding a promise made in the Haida-Heiltsuk peace treaty, signed in 2015. 

Heiltsuk Tribal Council elected chief councillor Marilyn Slett said she didn’t grow up with a sense of cultural pride. “We had 150 years of colonialism,” she said. With the raising of a big house in Bella Bella, Chief Slett said she’s witnessing the resurgence of her community and Heiltsuk culture. Photo: Louise Whitehouse / The Narwhal

Haida carver Christian White was hired by his leadership to carve a pole for the Heiltsuk. It will be raised on October 14th, the day after the initial blessing of the big house.

“The Haida and Heiltsuk were once always at war with one another,” Brown said. “They were both always sneaking around.” But during one planned Haida attack, the two groups instead began to talk and agreed on a verbal peace treaty. “At the time, they gave the Heiltsuk the right to dance what we call ‘the Haida dance,’ and later we signed a formal treaty.”

The heartbeat of the community

When Chief Slett was growing up, she said she didn’t have the kind of cultural pride and strength in her identity that she sees in Heiltsuk youth today. 

She knew her band number, she said, and she knew she was from Bella Bella and that she was Heiltsuk, but there wasn’t space for the cultural resurgence and conversations around decolonization she witnesses today. 

“We’ve had 150 years of colonialism … but today, our young people are strong and grounded in their culture and grounded in their identities,” she said. “It’s because of our grans, our grandpas, aunties, uncles, and our ancestors. It’s because of their resilience and empowerment that we’re able to do what we’re doing.”

The resurgence of culture for the Heiltsuk is about more than regaining lost tradition; it’s about healing and moving forward with pride and strength. 

The nation has faced unimaginable hardships, from the threat to their right to fish herring, succeeding economic hardships, to a devastating oil spill in one of their main food harvesting areas. Like many Indigenous peoples in Canada, they have survived and found ways to thrive in the face of genocide. 

The nation has demonstrated the strength and resiliency of their people, breathing life into their ancestor’s dreams, and engraving a healthy future for the next generations.

For Chief Slett, watching the rise of the big house — named, Gvákva’áus Haíɫzaqv, meaning “house of the Haíłzaqv” for all Heiltsuk people — comes with a deep emotional impact.  

The external transformation mirrors a deeper renewal, she said, both in herself and her community as a whole. 

“I feel my life changing on a personal level, having the big house in our community,” Chief Slett said. “And the doors haven’t even opened, it hasn’t been opened through our ceremonies yet.”

The presence of the big house, for her, transcends language: “The presence of the big house is something that can only be felt … It’s going to be, and it already is, the heartbeat of our community.”

‘The big house is going to change the future for our people’

The dream of the big house belongs to the community, but its coming to fruition has meant tapping into resources well beyond Heiltsuk members.

For several years the community has fundraised for the project, even creating a big house committee and fund to which government and industry working in their traditional territory have been encouraged to contribute.

Hereditary Chief Gary Housty Sr., a commercial fisherman for more than 50 years, said that as someone who doesn’t like to leave his territory for more than a few days, he’s seen a lot of change over the years, and a lot of people come forward to bring the big house to life.

Members from the Timber Kings television show from Williams Lake, B.C., donated lumber harvested from within Heiltsuk territory as well as time to help construct the frame of the big house. A man named Craig Woodsten from Shearwater Marine donated his barge to ship project timber for free. 

Carvers, singers, dancers, artists and food-preparers have all devoted their time to the project. It’s a labour of community dedication and love, Chief Housty said.

“We cannot have a potlatch without these special people,” he said. “I call them our treasures.”

“My father passed on six years ago, at the age of 92,” he added. “I clearly remember him and others dreaming of this big day. We honour them and he will be in my thoughts as I speak. I always try and remember what he taught me.”

Chief Housty speaks of the individuals who have dedicated a special amount of time and energy to the big house, such as carver Ian Reid, known as Nusi, who has been working day and night for months trying to accomplish his task. 

Ian Reid (Nusi) said the big house will change the lives of his people, forever. Photo: Kyle Artelle

One of the house posts now standing in the Haíɫzaqv big house. “There’s all kinds of energies and ancestors with us all the time, and we’re just working through our hands and we’re just delivering,” Ian Reid (Nusi) said. Photo: Kyle Artelle

“The big house is going to change the future of our people forever … forever,” Nusi said. “I’m just a simple carver, and I’ve never carved anything on this scale before. I’m just one little person, I’m not a master carver.”

Though the task is daunting, he added, “it’s empowering.”

“The empowering part comes from thinking about how many years our people went without a big house … the empowering part comes from thinking about how the big house will reaffirm our connection to the geographic locations our names come from — the territory, the resources, and everything else … It’s going to tie all of that together.”

Nusi’s main responsibility is preparing the four posts of the big house, an essential component of the structure’s traditional design. The four posts are now standing in their forever place in the big house. They are more than wood and paint, they are spirits that have been awakened, they are beings, he said, with life forces of their own. 

Nusi, like the other carvers working on the building, refused to be paid for his work. 

“I told the chiefs I’d do it for free, because it needs to be done,” Nusi said. “Our people fought so hard for what we have that it feels good just to honour and uplift that.”

He added the creation of the big house has him thinking about the next generation, including his own son. Eli, who is about to turn two, spent countless hours by his dad’s side at the big house, even participating in the carving with his own little hands. 

“It makes my heart sing to know my boy’s going to grow up in a big house,” he said. “The big house is going to change the future for our people, forever. It’s going to plant so many healthy seeds in the children, and their children.”

Two of the four house posts, from the W̓u̓íƛ̓itx̌v and Y̓ísdáitx̌v tribes. Photo: Kyle Artelle

Carver Gerry Sheena (Interior Salish, from Merritt, B.C.) was one of many carvers who traveled to Waglisla (Bella Bella) to offer time and hands to the project. Photo: Heiltsuk Tribal Council

Haíɫzaqv yím̓ás (hereditary chiefs) spread eagle down to bless the house posts for Gvákva’áus Haíɫzaqv on Oct. 2, 2019. Photo: Kyle Artelle

A ripple effect

For Chief Slett, the Heiltsuk big house is a symbol of her people’s resilience.

“Our community is strong,” she said. “I think it will be a healing process as a community, acknowledging the strength and resiliency of our people.”

Nusi said he believes the gathering will have an impact beyond his people’s traditional territory.

“What we do here, what’s happening here on this small little place on the central coast — it’s going to have a ripple effect across the whole earth,” Nusi said, adding that while the Heiltsuk have a responsibility to guard their teachings, they also have a duty to share them, especially with others who have lost their connection to land and place. 

“It’s going to impact the central coast, our neighbouring tribes, giving them medicine, inspiration and energy too.”

Bella Bella, B.C., the traditional territory of the Heiltsuk Nation. Photo: Louise Whitehouse / The Narwhal

Thinking about the upcoming gathering, elder Liz Brown finds herself recounting all those former ceremonies, the details of which she’s stored in her memory.

She remembers the close attention she paid during weddings especially — the blankets, the gifts and carefully counted place settings, laid on crocheted tablecloths.

She recounts the Bella Bella concert band, and how women adorned in dark blue shirts and white tops emerged with ladles in their hands. She says there were times former hereditary chief Moody Humchitt would rise to speak in front of her community and they would fall into a deep, resounding silence.

Brown’s memory has housed so many important cultural moments. Now the big house will too.

“I’m sure at the end of the week, we’ll all be super tired,” Brown said, adding, “but we’ll also be super happy.”

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.

This piece originally appeared on the Toronto Star. 

“What does reconciliation mean to you?”

I asked that question of Miles Richardson, a Haida leader, former chief commissioner of the B.C. Treaty Commission and a close friend since we started serving together on the board of the David Suzuki Foundation in 2001. I had recently come from a workshop discussion where I had earned criticism from an Indigenous leader for conflating reconciliation with forgiveness.

So, I was looking for an understanding of reconciliation that was deeper and more nuanced than the dictionary definition: “the restoration of friendly relations.”

I can’t remember if Miles harrumphed but he didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure if he had heard me, and we were soon discussing something else. But a couple of days later, we were talking again and he said, “Jim, I’ve been thinking about the question that you asked me.” And even as I was wondering, “What question?” Miles said, “ … about reconciliation.”

He went on: “If you can see me as I see myself, and I can see you as you see yourself, that is the beginning of a healthy relationship. And I’d like to see where a healthy relationship would take us.”

Two things struck me about this response. First, I was honoured — though, in hindsight, not surprised — that Miles had taken time to consider my question. It reminded me why we are friends; he is thoughtful, as well as wise. More important, though, was the answer itself. Miles wasn’t trying to persuade me to agree with him. He was calling for mutual respect and empathy. He was trying to open up space for a higher quality conversation.

This, in terms of the faltering processes of reconciliation unfolding in Canada today, gets to a critical point.

Reconciliation is not something you pick off the shelf. It’s not a gift that one powerful party can offer another. It is the product of a trusting relationship. It doesn’t require agreement — so much is yet to be negotiated — but it demands a degree of understanding. And that foundation of trust and acceptance — of mutual respect — is not, in itself, the happy end point; it is a first, essential step in creating the space in which reconciliation may emerge.

#Reconciliation Is Not a Gift. It’s a New Beginning https://t.co/PSHIgCTGh3 #cdnpoli #indigenousrights @james_hoggan

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) October 15, 2017

That gets to one of the biggest problems we now face. Too many people today are stressing and obsessing about all the ways the reconciliation project might ultimately go awry.

As Miles has said, reconciliation is not about coming to a final verdict: it’s about respect. It’s about having integrity as a Canadian and a human. It is, again, about seeing the other as they see themselves, and, critically, about being who you say you are.

The final accounting — the resolution of rights and title — will take years to unravel, even once the journey to reconciliation is well under way. But this first step demands an unprecedented degree of openness.

For example, Miles says, “I also have the view that my people are sovereign over Haida Gwaii. If you hope to understand me, you better understand that.” He’s not demanding that you accede — even if he’s quick to point out that his title is well defined in Canadian law. But, he says, “Reconciliation entails respect, whether you agree or not.”

So, the task now is to find the courage and integrity to take a first step — not to fear that, by reaching out, we might sacrifice a long-term negotiating position or “give away” something that was built on denial of the basic humanity of our Indigenous neighbours — only that we seek a foundation of understanding.

In Miles’s words: “We’re agreed that we’re all here to stay.” Wouldn’t it be better, for the social, economic and environmental security of all parties, to begin the next 150 years with the mutual respect that enables us to see where a healthy relationship takes us?

James Hoggan is the past Chair of the David Suzuki Foundation Board and author of the book, I’m Right and You’re an Idiot: The Toxic State of Public Discourse and How to Clean It Up.

Image: Healing Walk 2014. Photo: Zack Embree

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Most Canadians weren’t surprised to hear Prime Minister Justin Trudeau approve the Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain pipeline this week.

Yet Trudeau’s announcement was so thoroughly cut through with political spin and misinformation some have described it as “Orwellian.”

So where did the Prime Minister rank highest on the spin-master index?

Here are our top five myth and misinformation moments from Trudeau’s Kinder Morgan announcement.

Kinder Morgan Pipeline Approval Based on ‘Science’

Concerns about scientific integrity have plagued the Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain pipeline since the project first came under review.

The pipeline review, conducted by the National Energy Board, refused to consider the upstream climate and environmental impacts of the project, meaning vital scientific information about the impacts of oilsands development on air, water, at risk species and human health were excluded from consideration. The province of B.C. quietly accepted the NEB’s assessment of the project, despite noted deficiencies in its analysis of cumulative impacts, emissions and oil spill impacts.

To the frustration of participants, the NEB also excluded oral cross-examination from the proceedings, meaning Kinder Morgan avoided answering many difficult questions about the project’s environmental impacts.

In fact, a group of 27 climate experts, including economists, scientists and political and social scientists, were refused intervenor status during the pipeline hearings because they wanted to discuss the project’s impact on Canada’s climate change targets.

In the weeks before Trudeau’s announcement a group of scientists reached out to the PMO to share their findings on the lack of scientific literature regarding the effects of bitumen spills.

“It’s hard to imagine that the federal government decision (to approve new pipelines) could be based on science, just when we’ve found that in many cases, there’s very little science to base those decisions upon,” Wendy Palen, associate professor of biological sciences at Simon Fraser University told the National Observer.

Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain Pipeline and Tankers ‘Safe’ for B.C. Coast

Because of inadequate or faulty science, it is impossible to substantiate the claim the pipeline and its related increase in tanker traffic is “safe” for the coast.

During the pipeline review process Canada’s Department of Fisheries and Oceans argued Kinder Morgan’s assessment of threats to whale species off the B.C. coast from increased tanker traffic contained “insufficient information and analysis.”

A separate analysis, commissioned by the Raincoast Conservation Foundation, found the anticipated increase in tanker traffic gives the local Southern Resident Killer Whale population only a 50 per cent chance of survival. Southern resident killer whales, which use echolocation to hunt their prey, have been overwhelmed by noise pollution in their habitat, a problem that has recently been connected to starvation within the population.

Kinder Morgan also failed to explain the potential impacts of a marine oil spill on fish populations.

Ecojustice, a west coast environmental law firm that acted as an intervenor in the pipeline hearings, pressed Kinder Morgan on this issue and 20 others related to marine science and safety during the pipeline review process.

Kinder Morgan refused to answer, simply claiming the questions raised were “not relevant.”

The recent grounding and sinking of the Nathan E. Stewart tugboat off the coast of central B.C. demonstrated the challenge of marine spill response in B.C.’s unpredictable waters and undercuts the myth of world-class oil spill response.

Following the diesel spill resulting from the Nathan E. Stewart grounding, Trudeau announced a $1.5 billion investment in coastal protection, which will help meet B.C.’s five conditions for the Kinder Morgan pipeline, and followed up with a tanker ban on B.C.’s north coast. Critics have argued the funding amounts to subsidies for oil and gas exporters, who should be required to pay for cleanup of spills in marine habitats.

Kinder Morgan Pipeline a Part of Canada’s Climate Plan

Trudeau announced the approval of the pipeline, saying it was “integral” to meeting Canada’s climate commitments under the Paris Agreement.

Canada has committed to reducing greenhouse gas emissions 30 per cent below 2005 levels by 2030. Currently Canada is on track to miss this target by a wide margin. The Climate Action Network estimates that by 2030 Canada will be 91 megatonnes over the line.

Approving this pipeline (which was approved at the same time as the Enbridge Line 3 expansion which will increase the line’s capacity by 525,000 barrels of oil per day) will make it harder for Canada to meet those targets.

Trudeau admitted expansion of the Trans Mountain pipeline comes in light of increased oilsands production. The oilsands are Canada’s fastest growing source of carbon pollution.

According to Environment and Climate Change Canada, the approval of the Trans Mountain and Line 3 pipelines is estimated to put an additional 23 to 28 megatonnes of carbon pollution into the atmosphere, the equivalent of adding 58 million cars to the road.

Pipeline Will Help Usher in Clean Energy Transition

Trudeau repeated a familiar talking point when approving the Kinder Morgan pipeline: that approving pipelines will help us move closer to a green energy future.

The basic assumption here is that Canada’s oil and gas sector, hurting from low market prices, needs the boost a new pipeline provides.

Yet prominent energy analysts and economists have disputed the argument that a bitumen export pipeline will be a boon for the Canadian economy, much less fund a clean energy transition.

Jeff Rubin, senior fellow at the Centre for International Governance Innovation and former chief economist of CIBC world markets, told the CBC Canadians have been oversold on the benefits of selling oilsands crude to Asian markets.

“The reality is that Asian markets pay less, not more, for the bitumen that Canada wants to sell than U.S. refineries,” Rubin said.

Asian markets may not be in a position to handle refining oilsands crude, a particularly heavy hydrocarbon that often must undergo a costly coking process to be upgraded to a more useable light hydrocarbon product. Several refineries capable of handling oilsands crude already exist in the U.S., however.

Kinder Morgan argued the pipeline would be a major job creator, yet the company’s figures were called exaggerated in a report by Simon Fraser University and The Goodman Group that found the economic risks from a pipeline rupture were downplayed.

Rubin said some jobs from the pipeline construction are a small benefit, but may not outweigh the burden of building costly fossil fuel infrastructure at a time of global carbon constraints.

“If in fact it’s built, I don’t deny that the construction of a new pipeline will be a short-term job creator,” he said. “But if that ends up being a stranded asset, that’s not going to be an engine of economic growth. That’s an albatross around the economy.”

Pipeline Approval Doesn’t Violate Indigenous Rights

Last month a ministerial panel, convened by the federal government, released its report on the Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain pipeline.

Their conclusion? The pipeline should not be built without serious reassessment of its impact on Canada’s relation with indigenous peoples.

The panel posed this question to Justin Trudeau and his ministers: “how might Cabinet square approval of the Trans Mountain pipeline with its commitment to reconciliation with First Nations and to the UNDRIP principles of ‘free, prior, and informed consent?’”

The panel posed this question because roughly two-thirds of the First Nations directly affected by the pipeline project have not signed letters of support for the project.

Several First Nations have already launched legal actions against the pipeline project and the National Energy Board-led review process they say did not respect constitutionally protected aboriginal rights.

Far from being in line with reconciliation, Trudeau’s approval of the pipeline goes against his promise to repair nation-to-nation relations with Canada’s indigenous peoples.

With files from James Wilt.

Image: Alberta Premier Rachel Notley and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau discuss the approval of the Trans Mountain pipeline. Photo: Prime Minister Photo Gallery

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.

Dear Will and Kate,

Welcome to beautiful British Columbia!

You are getting a pretty epic tour this week — from Victoria and Vancouver to Bella Bella (sorry about the rain) and Haida Gwaii. All of us watching the photo-ops are pretty jelly to be honest.

Here’s the thing though: I’ve noticed you’re hearing plenty of platitudes about “protecting the environment” from our good-looking leaders, B.C. Premier Christy Clark and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

I know you’re smart people, so I don’t want you to be fooled by their looks — or their words.

Don’t get me wrong: B.C. truly is a glorious place — the type of place you can fly over in a seaplane and easily think the wilderness will never end.

But it’s also one of the world’s last frontiers and the race is on to cut down our old-growth forests, to send more oil tankers into our ports, to build natural gas plants in our salmon estuaries and to flood our rivers for megadams.

Here are a few things I thought you ought to know about B.C. (and which I’m doubtful you’ll hear from Justin or Christy).

1) Despite all the photo ops about adding the Great Bear Rainforest to the Queen's Commonwealth Canopy, I’m sure you’d like to know that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is dragging his heels on banning oil tankers from the Great Bear Rainforest.

Prince William, I heard your speech in Bella Bella and I couldn’t agree more with what you had to say about nature being “fundamental to the health of our societies.”

Prince William and Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge, visit the Great Bear Rainforest which was dedicated to the Queen's Commonwealth conservation program during the royal visit. Photo: Province of B.C.

That’s why it’s so ridiculous that First Nations are still fighting Enbridge’s Northern Gateway pipeline proposal, which would introduce hundreds of oil tankers a year loaded with oilsands bitumen to the Great Bear Rainforest.

Not only are the oilsands incredibly polluting to begin with, but a bitumen spill in the ocean would be virtually impossible to clean up.

This year, Enbridge Northern Gateway’s approval was overturned in court due to the federal government’s lack of consultation with First Nations.

Plus, during the election, Trudeau made an explicit promise to ban oil tankers in the Great Bear Rainforest. Not only has he not done that, but he’s also expected to approve the Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain oilsands pipeline to Vancouver by the end of the year, despite being opposed by local municipalities and First Nations.

Now that you’ve seen what’s at risk, seems worth writing home to Granny about, doesn’t it?

2) Canada (and the Crown) is breaking its promise to First Nations.

Kate, I saw that smile on your face while you watched the dancers in Bella Bella. First Nations have been living off the bounty of this coast since time immemorial.

And when the English and the French came along, many First Nations agreed to share their lands in an act of good faith.

During the treaty-making process, First Nations entered a relationship with the crown on an equal footing.

The Royals in Bella Bella, B.C. Photo: Province of B.C.

But that agreement has since “been tainted and soured” Assembly of First Nations national chief Perry Bellegarde told The Guardian.

“We didn’t basically share all the land and resource wealth in Canada to perpetuate poverty and colonisation and genocide,” Bellegarde said.

Grand Chief Stewart Phillip, president of the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs, made headlines around the world this week for refusing to attend a ceremony with you at Government House on Monday night, calling it a “public charade.”

Your itinerary is pretty insane, so I doubt you had time to read about why he wasn’t there, so let me bring you up to speed.

What Prince William & Kate Really Need to Know About B.C. https://t.co/8Vsk6RtkOE #FirstNations #PNWLNG #Enbridge #SiteC #bcpoli #cdnpoli

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) September 28, 2016

Phillip and the chiefs of the 115 First Nations his organization represents decided it would not be appropriate “to feed into that public illusion that everything is okay.”

He noted the crushing poverty faced by indigenous communities, missing and murdered women and the number of children in government care, as just a few examples of how everything is very not okay.

Phillip was to hand a symbolic ring of reconciliation to you, Prince William, and invite you to affix it on a special ceremonial staff, called the Black Rod.

“These events are tightly scripted. There is no speaking,” Phillip told the Victoria Times Colonist. “Had I been accorded the opportunity to speak to [the royal family] and express a different view things might be different. But that wouldn’t serve the illusion of peace and harmony.”

May we suggest you take the time to give the Grand Chief an ole ring-a-ding once you get home?

Prince William and Kate visit the Great Bear Rainforest. Photo: Province of B.C.

3) As you tour our province’s gorgeous environment with your tagalong Premier Clark, we thought you’d like to know that at this very moment the Peace River valley in northern B.C. is being destroyed for a megadam authorized by the provincial and federal governments.

The Site C dam — still being challenged in court by First Nations — would flood more than 100 kilometres of river valley, including farmland and First Nations hunting and fishing areas. Worse, the chair of the government’s own panel says it isn’t needed.

So why is Clark pushing ahead with its construction? Inertia basically. She has a story and she’s sticking to it. And jobs, right? Jobs funded with our own taxpayer dollars (to the tune of $9 billion), but jobs nonetheless.

4) Speaking of people who’ve been sharing your photo ops, your new buddy Justin Trudeau just approved a giant natural gas export terminal in critical salmon habitat on Tuesday.

If it gets built, it could be the single largest emitter of greenhouse gases in Canada. And it makes meeting our climate targets virtually impossible. We don’t think Prince Charles would be too pleased about that.

While Trudeau has been talking a good talk on the global stage, he’s yet to walk the walk at home.

British Columbia is already facing intense wild fire seasons and our forests have been ravaged by pine beetles because our winters don’t get cold enough any more.

So for all the beautiful photo ops, please know the truth is much more complicated.

You, like millions of visitors a year, come here to see what B.C. is known for: untarnished nature, wild beaches, free-flowing rivers, intact indigenous cultures. Let’s keep it that way.  

Image: Province of B.C. via Flickr

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.

By Ash Kelly and Brielle Morgan for Discourse Media. For a full, interactive version of this investigative piece, visit Discourse Media.

For more than 5,000 years, First Nations people have collected plants and harvested red cedar on Lelu Island, which sits where the Skeena River meets the Pacific Ocean near Prince Rupert in northern British Columbia. Adjacent to some of the most critical salmon habitat on the West Coast, Lelu Island is considered so valuable that, according to local Indigenous oral histories, Indigenous tribes have long battled to control it.

Not much has changed today — except that the battleground has shifted to Victoria and Ottawa. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s government is set to make a decision about Pacific NorthWest LNG (PNW LNG)’s proposed $36-billion liquefied natural gas (LNG) project, which is majority-owned by the Malaysian energy company Petronas. That decision could come at any time, although deliberations are likely to stretch into the fall. If built, the project will link a pipeline that weaves through traditional First Nations territories with a conversion plant and shipping terminal on Lelu Island.

The stakes are high for B.C. Premier Christy Clark, who, already campaigning for re-election in May 2017, has promised big on jobs and tax revenue she says LNG development will generate. She claims PNW LNG has wide backing among B.C. First Nations, whose support is critical. At a press conference on June 3, Clark said, “It’s important that people in Vancouver and across the country see how much support there is for LNG in these communities.”

Last year, members of the Lax Kw’alaams First Nation, whose traditional territory includes Lelu Island, overwhelmingly rejected the proposed development on the island — and almost $1.2 billion in promised benefits. Clark claims a breakthrough with Lax Kw’alaams occurred earlier this spring. “The Lax Kw’alaams voted massively in favour of supporting LNG, with some conditions,” she stated at the June 3 press conference.

But locals in the tiny town of Lax Kw’alaams, many too afraid to put their view on the record, say no such vote occurred. The only vote on the proposed project that Discourse Media was able to substantiate is the vote that occurred at a series of meetings in May 2015, when a majority of community members voted against the benefit agreement proposed by PNW LNG.

The political pressure on Lax Kw’alaams since then has been immense. Locals describe a community deeply divided over its future, desperate not to miss out on the economic opportunity LNG could provide, but with a majority opposed to developing Lelu Island. “Everybody’s bickering and fighting. It is tearing the whole village apart,” says Corinne Dudoward, who has lived in Lax Kw’alaams all her life save for a few years off reserve to attend school.

With sparring between elected and traditional power brokers, death threats and alleged vandalism, a culture of fear has left community members feeling they haven’t been heard by provincial or federal politicians. Pledges by both governments to meaningfully consult with the Lax Kw’alaams people have been broken, according to many community members.

Flora Bank, an eelgrass habitat in the Skeena River estuary, is adjacent to Lelu Island. Research found that Flora Bank contains higher abundances of juvenile salmon than other locations in the estuary. Photo: Tavish Campbell

While Trudeau has a relationship to foster with Clark, he has also promised a renewed “nation-to-nation” relationship with Indigenous peoples based on “recognition of rights, respect, co-operation and partnership,” as stated in his mandate letters to ministers in November. He reiterated this when Minister of Indigenous and Northern Affairs Carolyn Bennett committed to the U.N. Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in May.

Central to UNDRIP is Indigenous peoples’ right to “free, prior and informed consent” when it comes to proposals like PNW LNG. “Especially in cases of large-scale development or investment projects that may have a major, severe or adverse impact on Indigenous Peoples’ territories, consent is necessary,” wrote Indigenous legal scholar Dalee Sambo Dorough in Northern Public Affairs. “The state must provide all relevant information well in advance of the decision making.”

“It means developing and maintaining a more balanced and respectful relationship,” says Senator Murray Sinclair, former chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. “It’s more than simply saying, ‘We’re going to stop taking your land away from you unless it’s really important.’” He says projects like PNW LNG are an opportunity for Trudeau to demonstrate his commitment to reconciliation.

In May, just two days after Bennett drew a standing ovation at the U.N. for committing to UNDRIP, a group of First Nations people from the Skeena region also stood before the U.N.’s Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. “Right now, in our ancestral lands, everything the Trudeau government has pledged to get right with Canada’s Indigenous peoples is in danger of going very, very wrong,” said John Ridsdale, a Hereditary Chief of the Wet’suwet’en First Nation. “It is 2016, and Petronas is the wrong project in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The one thing everyone seems to agree on? That, had the consultation process been handled differently, free, prior and informed consent could have been achieved, PNW LNG could have been a success story for the Lax Kw’alaams, Petronas, Clark and Trudeau — and Lelu Island could have been protected for the use of future generations of Lax Kw’alaams people. Instead, it descended into one of the most polarized and contentious resource development battles that Canada has witnessed in years.

“Energy projects can proceed in a way that does achieve the purposes of reconciliation,” says Sinclair, “but not the way that we’re currently doing them.”

The Battle for Lelu Island Lands in Ottawa

PNW LNG has become one of the most contentious resource development battles that Canada has witnessed in years, and the battlefront has shifted to Ottawa.

Earlier this year, Premier Clark, four cabinet ministers and a delegation of over 80 people including industry representatives and First Nations travelled to Ottawa for what was dubbed a “trade mission.” PNW LNG has registered seven new lobbyists since the Liberals’ November election. First Nations groups opposing the development have also made multiple trips to Ottawa and the U.N., supported in part by conservation groups.

In addition to their conflicting demands, Trudeau’s government must weigh climate commitments made at the Paris Climate Conference at the end of 2015. The Canadian Environmental Assessment Agency has concluded that PNW LNG is “likely to cause significant adverse environmental effects … as a result of greenhouse gas emissions.” In fact, in late May, nearly 100 scientists said in a group letter to Minister of Environment and Climate Change Catherine McKenna that PNW LNG “would add between 18.5 per cent and 22.5 per cent to [B.C.’s] total GHG emissions,” making it “virtually impossible for B.C. to meet its GHG emission reduction targets.”

Divide and Conquer: The Threatened Community at the Heart of the PNW #LNG Project https://t.co/yLdU5i06F9 @CFNGBI pic.twitter.com/TyITpjqwv7

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) July 7, 2016

Not Prior, Not Informed — Not Free

It’s unclear whether First Nations were consulted before key decisions were made concerning PNW LNG. Shaun Stevenson, Prince Rupert Port Authority (PRPA)’s vice president of trade development, says the PRPA acknowledges that the port exists on traditional territory and expects developers to engage with First Nations as “early as possible.” A 2014 report by PNW LNG suggests initial contact with Lax Kw’alaams occurred in December 2012. But at least six months prior, Petronas had already earmarked Lelu Island for its plant and signed a feasibility agreement with the PRPA.

Community members in Lax Kw’alaams were open to development that would bring economic opportunity to the region, but they were concerned about how developing Lelu Island would impact salmon. Three years after being initially contacted, plans to locate the LNG plant on Lelu Island seemed set in stone, even though band members had received little response to their concerns about environmental impacts. And so, in spring 2015, some of them occupied the island in protest.

Ken Lawson and his wife, Patty Dudoward, are on the frontline of this occupation. A trucker and a fisherman by trade, Lawson never imagined he and Dudoward would spend the better part of a year shuffling between their home in Prince Rupert and the camp on Lelu Island, organizing food and fuel and assisting other activists at the occupation. As a house leader in the Gitwilgyoots tribe, one of the Nine Allied Tribes of Lax Kw’alaams, Lawson is often called upon by his hereditary chief to speak for the community.

Lawson isn’t against resource development in the region. His opposition hinges on the project’s impact on salmon — a staple for First Nations, tourism and the fishing industry. The Skeena River watershed is “one of the largest salmon watersheds in the world, second only to the Fraser River in its capacity to produce sockeye salmon,” according to theCanadian Environmental Assessment Agency (CEAA).

In April 2015, PNW LNG presented Lax Kw’alaams with a benefits proposal totalling nearly $1.2 billion in payments and land transfers that would be delivered over 40 years. The mayor of Lax Kw’alaams at the time was Garry Reece. Wanting to better understand the impacts on salmon and dissatisfied by information provided by PNW LNG, Reece’s band council commissioned consultant and geologist Patrick McLaren and Simon Fraser University biologist Jonathan Moore. Their research found that Lelu Island’s proximity to Flora Bank, a sandbar where juvenile salmon spend time transitioning between the river and the ocean, meant that development on the island posed significant threats to the salmon run.

The CEAA’s draft report to the federal government ran counter to McLaren’s and Moore’s findings, arguing that “taking into consideration mitigation measures … the Project is not likely to cause significant adverse environmental effects on marine fish and fish habitat.” Experts have called into question the CEAA’s findings. On March 11, a group of 134 scientists submitted a letter calling on Minister of Environment and Climate Change Catherine McKenna to reject the CEAA’s draft report; they said the government report is “scientifically flawed and represents an insufficient base for decision-making.”

In May 2015, Lax Kw’alaams-commissioned scientists and PNW LNG representatives presented their contrasting views at a series of public meetings called by Mayor Reece to consider PNW LNG’s benefits proposal. The meetings occurred in Lax Kw’alaams, Prince Rupert and Vancouver (the vast majority of band members live outside of Lax Kw’alaams).

In all three locations, large majorities of attendees rejected the deal. Two days after the final vote in Vancouver, the band council released a statement: the band would not support LNG on Lelu Island, but was open to collaborating to find an alternative plan. “Lax Kw’alaams is open to business, to development, and to LNG (including PNW). It is not open to development proximate to Flora Bank,” the statement reads.

Those occupying Lelu Island felt bolstered by the vote, confident that they represented the view of their community. “What it’s all about for Christy Clark is the jobs, and I get that. There aren’t a whole lot of jobs around,” says Ken Lawson from his vantage point on Lelu Island. “They just simply can’t put it on Flora Bank, Lelu Island. Put it somewhere else.”

“If they had asked where to put this in the first place, [the community’s] answer would probably be different,” says Lawson. “There would have been proper consultation — which there wasn’t.”

PNW LNG didn’t take up Lax Kw’alaams on its offer to find another location. But that didn’t mean the deal was off.

Grant Wesley, son of Malcolm Sampson, says he and his family are leaving Lax Kw’alaams because they don’t know who they can trust anymore. They’ll decide where to go once his girlfriend knows where she’ll be attending school to become a teacher. Wesley’s father says he’s been targeted for his anti-LNG views. Photo: Ash Kelly

The Premier Doubles Down

Premier Clark’s confidence in the venture was not lessened by Lax Kw’alaams’ rejection, according to reports by APTN and CBC. She reportedly said it was “only a matter of time” until a deal was reached with Lax Kw’alaams and the rejection was nothing more than “a bump in the road.”

At the Western Premiers’ Conference in May 2016, Discourse Media asked Clark what responsibility her government has to Lax Kw’alaams. She responded: “Do we want to create jobs for First Nations people and others in the country or do we want to have no change at all?”

Her comments echoed the message the B.C. government has been sending for months: it’s either the Petronas plant on Lelu Island or no economic progress at all. That kind of ultimatum has left people living in the region fearful of missing out on a limited-time offer, yet at the same time feeling that their concerns about the project’s location have been ignored.

Four of the five First Nations that the CEAA and the B.C. Environmental Assessment Office required PNW LNG to consult with — Metlakatla, Kitselas, Kitsumkalum and Gitxaala — have signed either impact benefit agreements (securing payouts for their communities along with environmental commitments from PNW LNG) or term sheets, which are often a precursor to impact benefit agreements.

With Lax Kw’alaams emerging as the sole holdout among those five First Nations (some upriver tribes that harvest Skeena salmon, including the Wet’suwet’en and Gitanyow, are also opposed), Lawson and Dudoward found themselves under increasing pressure from locals who felt they and their fellow occupiers were standing in the way of jobs and prosperity. “It feels like Ken’s and [my] heads are on the chopping block,” Dudoward says. They also acknowledge a lack of visible public support for their position, which they find understandable, but frustrating. “People are afraid of what could happen to them if they helped us out,” said Lawson. “They have to protect themselves and their jobs. I don’t hold that against anybody.”

Lawson himself is paying a toll for standing up. “I’ve logged all my life and I’ve run trucks for the last 12 years,” says Lawson. “The business has suffered… big time.”

In a smoke-filled teepee on Lelu Island, where the occupiers often debrief, Lawson talks about the recent breakdown of one of the trucks in his commercial fleet. Under the hood, he found a hole in a component behind the engine, one he believes was an act of sabotage. After inspecting the damaged part, his insurance company agreed it didn’t appear to be a wear hole. An investigation is underway.

Malcolm Sampson, a Lax Kw’alaams fisherman for more than 40 years and an outspoken activist against PNW LNG, also became a target for those in the community who disagreed with him. He recalls one phone call that made this particularly clear.

“You see that big hotel sitting there?” he asks, pointing to a modest, weathered building he owns. “I was threatened they were gonna burn it down. A man threatened to come up to my house and he was gonna shoot me and all my children,” he says. “My heart fell to my knees; I almost cried.”

Police in Prince Rupert say they have seen an increase in calls resulting from the controversial nature of these large-scale LNG projects. Sgt. Jagdev Uppal of the Prince Rupert RCMP adds: “This has included marine-based offences such as dangerous operation of motor vessels and uttering threats (complaints).”

James Anaya, U.N. Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous peoples, could have been describing the situation playing out in Lax Kw’alaams when he criticized Canada’s relationship with Indigenous people in a 2014 report. When consultation does not take place in a consistent and timely manner, he wrote, the result is “an atmosphere of contentiousness and mistrust that is conducive neither to beneficial economic development nor social peace.”

Murray Smith, a house leader from the Gitwilgyoots Tribe, believes PNW LNG proponents are stoking divisions in his community by taking advantage of internal governance challenges. “They look for the weak link, people that are hungry for money,” he says. “They see that they’re poor and say, ‘Sign your name here.’”

A Sudden Flip-flop

Despite this mounting pressure, elected and hereditary leaders remained relatively united in their opposition to LNG development on Lelu Island — until a new mayor and council were elected in November 2015.

At first, the newly elected leaders maintained the community’s position. Mayor John Helin even submitted a letter to the CEAA reiterating the band’s rejection of the benefit deal on March 7, 2016.

But eight days later, in a move that hereditary leaders call a betrayal, Helin submitted a second letter to the CEAA that contradicted his earlier letter and offered conditional support for a project. The letter was dated March 15, when several elected councillors were away on an annual kelp-gathering trip on Digby Island.

Community members in Lax Kw’alaams were shocked. According to Smith, “the last time we had a band meeting was in a previous administration,” before Helin’s November election. Many Lax Kw’alaams community members corroborated this.

The band council is not required under lawto make financial or governance documentation available to the public. But, according to former mayor Reece, a band member can request meeting minutes at the band council office. So on April 8, after a prolonged silence from the elected council, fisherman Malcolm Sampson went to the band office and requested any relevant minutes from meetings concerning the letter.

Instead of providing the requested documentation, according to Sampson, the band council shut down the office and an impromptu protest ensued that resulted in someone calling the RCMP. By the time police arrived, there was little action. Const. Monte Webb describes the protest as “three cops and thirty people standing around just talking.”

Mayor Helin declined to comment in response to multiple interview requests made by phone, email and text message. When approached by Discourse Media reporters in person, he held his hand up and said “no.”

Discourse Media also reached out to each band councillor with publicly listed contact information. Only councillor Stan Dennis responded. Dennis says he is not at liberty to provide details on how the council operates, but stated for the record: “I am still standing against this development on Lelu.”

Political Talking Points

Helin’s contentious letter became a speaking point for Premier Clark. At the Western Premiers’ Conference in early May, she said Lax Kw’alaams leadership “voted overwhelmingly in favour of moving forward into the next stage of this agreement on LNG.”

In multiple interview requests, Discourse Media asked Clark to elaborate. In an emailed response, the premier’s office stated, “First Nation officials carried out their own internal engagement processes prior to their vote and letter of support to the federal government.”

Then, in a follow-up phone call, a spokesperson for the premier who spoke on background explained that Clark may have misspoken when she referred to a “leadership” vote and that it was in fact a public meeting where the community voted 244 to three in favour of developing Lelu Island.

In written statements, the province has maintained that “Lax Kw’alaams First Nation conducted its own community engagement process and vote, prior to its letter being submitted,” but how many people voted and whether they were leadership or band members remain unclear. At the June 3 press conference, Clark said, “There will always be some people who disagree and that’s the nature of a democratic society. But in the Lax Kw’alaams, when they took that vote amongst the chiefs and the vast majority — I think over 150 people voted in favour of it and three voted against — at some point you have to say the people have spoken.”

But have they? Neither the premier’s office nor the band council provided any documentation of either a band council or community vote in response to multiple requests. Discourse Media has been unable to identify a single community member who attended or was aware of a public meeting that was supposedly attended by between 150 and 247 people.

PNW LNG declined multiple interview requests and provided a written statement: “PNW LNG is working collaboratively and constructively with local First Nations. To date, PNW LNG has received conditional support from all local First Nations within the project area. We do not comment on band governance issues.”

Malcolm Sampson hasn’t shied away from pressing council to explain what happened in those eight days between letters to the CEAA; he is circulating a petition demanding answers and organizes occasional protests outside the band office. But he’s not sure how long he can keep it up; he no longer feels safe in the community.

“I’m going to try and sell what I can here and then maybe move on. We don’t feel liked here,” says Sampson. “It’s sad. It hurts to leave because I’ve lived here all my life.”

Image: Ash Kelly

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BC Hydro deeply regrets the impacts of the W.A.C. Bennett Dam on First Nations and will not repeat the “mistakes of the past,” Hydro’s Deputy CEO Chris O’Riley said Thursday at the unveiling of a new First Nations gallery at the dam’s visitor centre.

“While we remain very proud of the engineering marvel that is the Bennett dam, and we continue to be thankful in this province for the prosperity that it underpins, we recognize a need to acknowledge those parts of the picture that we can’t be proud of,” O’Riley told representatives from six First Nations in the Peace who gathered under a tent in the rain, overlooking the two kilometre-long dam.

“We recognize the need to acknowledge the adverse impacts of the dam on the environment and on the original people of the land. We think this acknowledgment is a really important part of reconciliation,” said O’Riley.

When the Bennett dam was completed in 1967 and the floodwaters of ten rivers and creeks converged to form the massive Williston Reservoir, local First Nations were not even informed, much less consulted.

Some, like Emil McCook, the former chief of the Kwadacha First Nation, were caught unaware as churning waters submerged First Nations riverboats. McCook, then a teenager, plucked a young boy from the rising water after one boat overturned, a story he recounts in a documentary video, Kwadacha by the River, part of the new First Nations gallery.

Emil McCook. Photo: Sarah Cox.

The gallery is titled “They Call It Progress, We Call it Destruction.” It was largely the work of a Peace Aboriginal Advisory Committee that collected stories from many First Nations members about the Bennett dam’s devastating impact on aboriginal communities who relied on the flooded rivers for travel, food, contact with relatives and other villages, and cultural and spiritual purposes.

The stories on the walls of the gallery tell a chilling tale of the reservoir’s largely-undocumented impacts on First Nations, which included severing the migration route of caribou that had provided them with food, tools, clothing, and other important materials: “We lost a way of life that used to provide us with so much and we got nothing in return.”

“Under water lies many burial ground, traditional ceremony sites and history.”

“…it was a death trap for the animals.”

“Many of our gathering sites and the trails leading to them were destroyed.”

“We can’t change that, we can’t bring it back,” McCook said in an interview after the ceremony. “But how can First Nations benefit from the resources? Over the years hopefully they will listen to First Nations.”

McCook said the Kwadacha First Nation still lacks hydro power and gets its electricity from a diesel generator.

Site C Dam Not Mentioned

Throughout the ceremony and speeches, one contentious subject was carefully side-stepped by both BC Hydro and First Nations members. Not one person mentioned the controversial $8.8 billion Site C dam currently under construction on the Peace River 100 kilometres downstream from the WAC Bennett Dam.

Site C, when complete in 2024, would flood 107 kilometres of the Peace River and its tributaries, including the traditional land of Treaty 8 First Nations.

Contrary to O’Riley’s promise that BC Hydro will not repeat the mistakes of the past, the Joint Review Panel that examined Site C for the federal and provincial governments concluded that the dam and its reservoir would “significantly affect the current use of land and resources for traditional purposes by Aboriginal peoples.”

The panel disagreed with BC Hydro regarding Site C’s impact on fishing and hunting opportunities and practices for Treaty 8 First Nations, concluding that the project would likely cause a “significant adverse effect” that “cannot be mitigated.”

.@BCHydro’s #FirstNations apology doesn’t line up with unavoidable #SiteC impacts https://t.co/5C6C0tYmbD @christyclarkbc @maryforbc #bcpoli

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) June 12, 2016

Three Treaty 8 First Nations, all of them represented at the visitor centre opening, have on-going court cases against the Site C dam. Three legal challenges were launched by the West Moberly and Prophet River First Nations.

A fourth legal case, launched by the Blueberry River First Nations, claims that the cumulative impact of Site C and other industrial development has infringed on the Nations’ treaty rights. A fifth court case against Site C by the Peace Valley Landowners Association, representing 70 landowners who will be affected by the dam, is also still in progress.

“We’re not in support of Site C,” McCook said in the interview. “We have to work with our First Nations brothers that live down the valley. Site C is going to be hurtful to our neighbours down here.”

The Tsay Keh Dene, one of the First Nations most affected by the Bennett Dam, was not represented at the visitor centre gathering or in the First Nations gallery. A quote on the gallery wall from Tsay Keh Dene Chief Dennis Izony said his people had decided not to contribute to the impacts gallery “due to the on-going trauma and lasting effects of the creation of the reservoir on our nation and its people that has yet to be resolved.” Neither the Tsay Keh Dene nor the Kwadawa belong to Treaty 8.

In 2009, the year before the B.C. government announced it would seek regulatory approval for Site C, the province reached a settlement agreement with the Tsay Keh Dene over the development of the Bennett dam and Williston Reservoir. That agreement provides the Tsay Keh Dene with a one-time payment of $20.9 million and annual payments of $2 million.

O’Riley acknowledged that sharing stories of the impact of the dam and reservoir had brought up painful memories for some First Nations members. He thanked those who participated in the process and said BC Hydro respected that others were not ready to discuss the Bennett dam’s “deep and profound and painful” impacts.

“The door is forever open to have that conversation when the time is right.”

O’Riley also said that remembering what was lost will lead BC Hydro “to be more mindful of our actions today and of our actions in the future.”

Premier Christy Clark has vowed to push the Site C dam  “past the point of no return” and BC Hydro continues to fast-track construction despite multiple requests by the West Moberly First Nations and others to pause until legal cases are resolved.

Image: Drummers at the opening of the gallery at the W.A.C. Bennett dam. Photo: Sarah Cox

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