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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you decide to work in journalism?

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

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

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

How have you connected to nature throughout your life?

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

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

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

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

What do you enjoy most about the job so far?

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

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

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

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

What does good journalism look like to you?

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

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

What are three random things about you?

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

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

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

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

Josie Kao was sitting in the computer lab at her high school in Burnaby, B.C., editing articles for the school newspaper, when something shocking interrupted her workflow: an article entitled “The colour of crime” that organized crime statistics by race but didn’t address the systemic issues behind the numbers. 

“I was like, this is racist,” she said. “Before that, I trusted that everything my editors gave me would be publishable.” 

Josie talked with her editors, and the story was withdrawn. 

“That experience really stuck with me because it showed me the importance of being critical as an editor and it made me realize I still had so much left to learn,” she said. 

It was the first time she’d stood up against harmful coverage, but it wouldn’t be the last.

Josie went on to become editor-in-chief of the University of Toronto’s student newspaper, The Varsity, where she helped build a newsroom that supports equity and checks its own biases on the regular. 

Campus media is well-positioned to do that reflective work because it’s deeply connected to the communities it covers and feedback comes quickly, Josie said. “We know exactly when we’ve messed up and we know when we’ve done it right.” 

That connection helps journalists identify the gaps in their coverage and tell better, more empathetic stories, she added. “It helps attract people because when you’re telling their stories right, they’re more likely to trust you.”

Josie, who recently spent four months working as a web editor at The Globe and Mail, sees parallels between campus media and The Narwhal. “They’re both super-community driven and they both try to be in tune with their members.” 

Like Josie, the folks at The Narwhal are mega-fans of responsive, nuanced journalism that’s shaking up the industry. That’s why our team is thrilled to introduce her as our new Assistant Editor. 

We caught up with Josie and learned a few things about her hopes for the industry, her love of all things books and her trepidation around spicy foods. 

Why did you decide to become a journalist?

First, I wanted to do something that involved writing — I knew that that was my life’s goal. I was also interested in helping other people write, whether through editing or publishing. But the other more idealistic reason is that I wanted to help people. 

Keeping people informed is the basic layer of journalism, but going beyond that requires storytelling: that means either telling a story that wouldn’t have been told otherwise or telling a story where someone can finally see themselves in it for the first time. Whenever I’ve experienced that, it’s been super-fulfilling. So these are goals that I’m constantly working toward. 

What are some topics that you feel most compelled to write about and why?

I’m passionate about reporting on under-covered issues, like mental health on campuses and inaccessibility in the individualized environmental movement, and I love covering the hyperlocal effects of international news. I like looking at really niche areas and using them to explore larger, systemic issues. I’m most interested in covering people’s stories, personal stories, without losing sight of the larger context surrounding them. 

I also love writing about books. I love reading — it’s probably the only hobby that I have. I’m fascinated by the process of it all: the publishing industry, how books get to people, what kind of books don’t make it to people. It’s a new area for me, but it’s one I’m exploring more. 

If you could work as a journalist anywhere in the world (besides Canada) where would you go and why? 

I would love to work in East Asia because that’s where my family is from and I love it there — I love the food and the culture. I’d also like to work in China because it’s a hugely important country with a wealth of stories that haven’t been told for Canadians. There is great journalism happening in those places for local audiences, which is really valuable, but I think there’s a lot of room for growth in the journalism that is being produced for international audiences. I would love to be a part of that. 

When did you first become aware of environment issues?

My family loves to go camping, so I was always immersed in nature and wildlife. But then one time when I was about nine years old, we took a road trip to Alaska. We packed up our RV and drove up to the Arctic Ocean. And that was the most incredible trip. First of all because it was so beautiful — we saw foxes and bears and moose. But it was also one of my first experiences becoming aware of ecological loss. I remember driving along an isolated highway and suddenly all the trees disappeared as we drove into a clearcut. I remember asking my parents, “What happened to this forest, did it burn down?” And they told me, “No, this was purposeful.” It was so removed from the city of Vancouver, where I grew up, so that was my first exposure to deforestation. 

Then in high school, I was president of our environment club. That was also a great experience working with like-minded people. We had a lot of support to work on projects: we started a composting program, we worked in the garden and we did fundraisers. 

What does good journalism look like to you?

I think good journalism should constantly be pushing boundaries — other people’s and its own — and constantly questioning its assumptions. By that I mean we should question our assumptions about who we think is reading our work and who we include in it. It also means being reflective about the stories we’re telling and the ones we don’t tell. 

For example, when people talk about race, a lot of times the conversation centres white people, saying things like, “People are more concerned about anti-Black racism now.” Those kinds of statements are referring to white people most of the time. Really great journalism to me looks like not taking those things for granted and always trying to use the medium to push for change in a greater way. 

Can you tell us three random things about yourself?

I have an incredibly low spice tolerance. My family probably wants to disinherit me because they all love spicy food. I’ve been trying to get better at it over the past few years, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I can’t even handle certain amounts of black pepper. It’s really bad. 

At one point in my life, I considered becoming a professional viola player. That was because I was told that no matter how bad you are, every orchestra always needs a viola player. I discovered that there’s a limit to how bad you can be. 

I did so many road trips as a kid that I’ve been to all 10 provinces, one territory and most U.S. states. 

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.

During the early stages of the pandemic, Nicole Gonzalez Filos was adjusting to life at home just like the rest of us.

But instead of getting bored, Nicole took the opportunity to hone her video skills and connect with her community. She made a video about a day in the life of a student journalist and posted it to her brand-new YouTube channel. 

In the video, Nicole walks us through her day, starting with breakfast (cereal, two boiled eggs and almond milk, FYI) and then doing phone interviews for a story on tech education. Her pug, Booboo, makes frequent cameos. 

It’s a great snapshot of Nicole, The Narwhal’s new practicum student. In a nutshell: she thrives on finding creative ways to communicate and is determined to have fun in the process. 

Nicole was born in Panama and moved to Canada at age 10. Now she’s in her last year of Kwantlen Polytechnic University’s journalism program. 

To get hands-on experience, she became a reporter for Kwantlen’s newspaper, The Runner. Soon, she was going beyond the publication’s expectations, sometimes turning in three or four stories per week. Just because she enjoys it. She’s now an editor at the paper and still writes about two stories a week.

“I noticed that whenever I wrote a story, I got to learn something new,” she said.  

Nicole directs that curiosity toward justice and equity issues, writing about race, disability, the criminal justice system and the environment. She wants her work to provide a platform for marginalized voices. 

As she starts her practicum, we caught up with Nicole to find out where she gets her gusto. 

What inspired you to become a journalist?

I didn’t plan on becoming a journalist. When I was little, I wanted to be a fashion designer, then when I was in Grade 9, I wanted to be an anaesthesiologist. Later, I wanted to be an architect, then a lawyer — so there were a lot of different things.

In my last year of high school, my teacher assigned us to read a memoir called The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. I really connected with the main character — we share a number of traits: she liked to write, was very artistic and always wanted to do new things. 

By the end of the book she became a journalist, and I thought, hey, maybe I should become a journalist too! 

So the next year, I started the journalism program at Kwantlen University. I wanted to find out what the work was really like, so I started writing for Kwantlen’s newspaper, The Runner. At first I was very shy and it was nerve-racking, but they welcomed me and I just fell in love with it. I got to work in so many different places and hear views from different people. 

That’s when I decided I really wanted to be a journalist. 

What environment issues are you most interested in covering and why?

I’d like to write about sustainable fashion because I love clothing and going shopping, but I’m also conscious of the environmental impacts of the industry. 

That includes the pollution that comes from manufacturing and washing clothing, and the environmental impacts those clothes have when they make it to the landfill. 

You produced an audio piece about eco-anxiety among youth. What drove you to explore that topic and what did you learn?

Last year, I interviewed a representative from Kwantlen’s Peer Support Resource Centre who talked about how some young people have been anxious about how the climate is changing — they called it “eco-anxiety.” I was surprised because I’d never heard that term before. 

So I decided to do a short audio piece on eco-anxiety for one of my classes and I talked to a 17-year-old organizer from a youth climate group called Climate Clock based out of Surrey.  

She told me how worried her peers were about whether they were going to have clean drinking water and whether the air would be breathable in the coming years. 

I thought, wow, these kids aren’t worried about their careers or getting jobs right now.  They’re worried about the environment. They want to know how they can make the places they live better for themselves and future generations. 

I learned that climate change is impacting youth in ways that I didn’t realize. 

You’re a student journalist entering an industry undergoing major changes. How are you navigating that challenge?

Yeah, I learned this in my first year. My professor told us, ‘Journalism is changing. It’s difficult to get jobs.’ And I was like, ‘Great. Motivation to the fullest!’ 

But when I entered my first year, I understood that there are so many areas that a journalist can go into. There are lots of different ways to engage with news, and I want to tackle them all. 

For example, earlier this year I had to write a story about environment issues, and we also needed to produce an audio and video story to accompany it. I was inspired because I was able to do all three of them successfully. I thought: I can do this! 

Can you describe one of your most memorable stories?

Two come to mind.

Last year, I went to the Surrey Latin Festival. There were lots of people that weren’t from Latin American countries at this festival and they were enjoying the music and having so much fun and appreciating our culture. And I thought: if more people did things like this, we wouldn’t see some of the problems I’ve witnessed in Canada around an overall lack of knowledge about Latin America.

When I first came to Canada from Panama, for example, kids would ask me where I was from. When I would say I’m from Panama, they would ask me, ‘Oh, is that in Mexico?’

So I thought to myself, this is my chance to explain that there are actually different countries in Latin America! So what began as a culture piece became an opinion piece that could address some of the problems that I’d encountered. 

I loved that piece so much because I was able to put my culture into it and I was able to put a bit of educational background into the article. That story also pushed me to put my own personality into the stories I write. 

I wrote another one of my favourites this year. 

At Kwantlen, we pay for a bus pass that gets automatically deducted through our tuition fees. But some students with disabilities don’t need this pass because they need to use other forms of transportation.

The university required those students to opt out of the bus pass every year, and they had to show a doctor’s note. To me that didn’t make any sense because if you have a permanent disability that’s a long-term reality.

I talked to a mature student who had mobility issues and a son with an invisible disability who often ended up paying for the pass because she wasn’t able to get to her doctor in time.

So I wrote a story about this, and it got attention at the university. That same student thanked me for writing it, saying that it helped her feel energized to push for change.

That’s when I truly realized the importance of being a journalist. I was like, ‘This is why I do this job.’

If you could spend a day with anyone in the world, living or not, who would you choose?

I would spend the day with my grandma who lived in Panama and passed away last year. 

She was the person who inspired me to write in the first place. She was a Spanish teacher, a principal, an arts professor and she wrote a children’s book. From the time that I was six or seven, she would sit me down and we would write poems together. She loved writing poems. Other days we would write fiction and short stories. 

Later when I moved to Canada, we would talk on the phone. She would ask me to share what I’d written, but of course it was all in English, so I’d translate my writing for her. And she would still love it. She was always asking, ‘How’s your writing?’

When she learned that I was becoming a journalist, she got so excited. 

If I could be with her for a day I would translate all my writing for her to read. I would be like, ‘Hey, I just wanted to let you know, this is what I’ve written. Let me know if you like it.’ 

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

From piloting a hovercraft on Great Slave Lake in the Northwest Territories to exploring ice floes under the Arctic midnight sun, Elaine Anselmi embraces it all head-on. 

As The Narwhal’s newest senior editor, she brings us her penchant for listening to the pulse of a story — a talent that has propelled her career as a journalist, sending her across the country and into unexpected places on the regular.

Elaine’s approach is a simple but powerful one: “Listen to people more than talk to them.”

Elaine began her journalism career at a restaurant industry magazine in Toronto, where she got a far better education in table settings than any person could need. She then headed north to work as a reporter and editor at several publications, covering topics such as disappearing Arctic sea ice, caribou herds and the lost Franklin expedition.

Now that she’s an official Narwhal, we asked Elaine a few questions about what she’s learned along the way. 

What inspired you to become an environment journalist?

I have written on a lot of subjects throughout my career, but I’ve gravitated toward environment journalism — or at least stories with an environment angle. I think that comes from my interest in the outdoors. It’s where I like to spend time and I think a lot of that interest came out of tree-planting. You spend long, uninterrupted periods with at most a few millimetres of material between you and the outdoors, so I think tree planting inherently harbours an appreciation for the environment. Moving up north and working for northern publications cemented that interest because it’s almost inescapable there. The environment is so much a part of everyday life.

You’ve lived, worked and studied in an extensive number of places across the country! How does this shape your journalism?

Working in community news shows you a very different, and deeper, side to the places you’re covering and how different every corner of the country is. I think this gives you a bit of humility — you start to realize that you’re never an authority on anything. In journalism that means that everywhere you go you need to talk to local people and as many people as possible to even begin to understand a place. 

I think the more places you go, the more you realize that. Every time you go somewhere new, it’s like, right — it’s a totally different world. You’ve got to play catch up and figure out how everything works. And I think it’s good as a journalist to do that. 

What do you like most about your job?

I enjoy taking the blocks of a story and then figuring out how to put them together. It’s sort of this interesting puzzle. As an editor, it’s fascinating to see how different people approach stories. If you give 10 people the exact same subject matter and interviews, each of them will probably build the story differently. And then as a writer you get to do that puzzle yourself, which is really fun. 

You also get to go places and meet people that you otherwise wouldn’t. Some pretty neat opportunities can come your way. For example, when I was freelancing in Yellowknife, an editor reached out one morning to ask if I wanted to do a hovercraft tour of Great Slave Lake. I was like, “Sure!” They even let me drive for a while, which was really hard. Mario Kart does not prepare you. 

How did you end up moving to Yellowknife?  

When I was in journalism school, I did my internship in Yellowknife at Up Here magazine. After finishing school and working in Toronto for a while, I wanted to get out of the city, so I got a job at a newspaper in northern B.C. While there, I did a road trip back to Yellowknife with a friend for the Folk on the Rocks music festival, and I remembered how much I loved being there: I had this feeling like — “I’m not done with this place!” I met up with a friend who told me that the local newspaper was pretty well always hiring. So I went in and left a handwritten note for the editor because he was out of the office. It said something like “Hi, I’m Elaine, I work at a newspaper in northern B.C., but I’d really love to work for you.” A month later I got an email from him asking for my resume and some clippings, and I moved up there a few weeks later.

What’s one of the most memorable stories you’ve covered? 

I was writing a story about Pikialasorsuaq, the North Water Polynya, which is an area of year-round open water in North Baffin Bay. Polynyas are these extremely rich ecosystems of tiny organisms, fish and marine mammals. This one is the largest in the Arctic and home to narwhals, belugas and walruses that all migrate through different parts of the Arctic.

I was in Pond Inlet, which is one of the communities that relies on the animals migrating from  the polynya, talking to hunters about the importance of that ecosystem. Out at the floe edge on Baffin Bay we actually saw a pod of narwhals and ran into a hunter (who happened to be the brother of my guide) who had got one and was processing the meat. We stuck around while he did that, which was really cool to see. The narwhal tusk was probably a foot taller than me. It was also June, which is the time of the midnight sun, so the sun just circled overhead all day while we stood on the ice at the edge of the open water and everything around us was white-covered mountains. When you get to experience things first hand, it changes the way you write the story. 

Tell us three random things about yourself

I was baking sourdough before it was quarantine-cool. I think my starter is six years old. His name is Clint Yeastwood and he moved from Yellowknife with me. 

I used to have my bus driver’s licence — I got it for tree-planting to drive cargo vans on bush roads, but had to learn in an old-school bus in a neighbourhood of Toronto. 

While in university in Halifax, I got let go from Boston Pizza after less than two weeks. I have a lot of respect for servers.

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.

Internships are a vital part of any journalist’s career. Just like you can’t learn how to fly a plane in a simulator, you can’t learn how to produce journalism in a classroom.

At The Narwhal, we feel a strong sense of moral and professional responsibility to help train the next generation of journalists. It’s also an honour and a privilege. That’s why we’re thrilled to welcome our very first intern, Zoë Yunker, to our pod.

Zoë, a master’s of journalism student at the University of British Columbia, started last week, just in time to join our second birthday party. Unfortunately, while we were celebrating on Zoom with silly dances and toasts to our generous donors, other media outlets were cancelling internships and laying off thousands of journalists due to the trickle-down effects of the pandemic.

It’s clear the traditional media model isn’t working and we need innovative people with fresh ideas to help us make the transition to sustainable models of journalism. After working with Zoë for a week, we’re confident she’s one of them. Not only did she nail her first assignment, an interview with our founders, and submit it before deadline (who does that?), she also impressed us with her insight into the media industry, her knowledge of the climate impacts of pension funds (a passion of hers) and her ability to slow down and appreciate the little things.

Why did you want to become a journalist?

About midway through high school, I started getting glimpses into the fact that everything isn’t right with the world. I was starting to get the download about climate change, and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were happening, which was really shaking up my ideas of justice. I decided I wanted to do something about these multiple intersecting challenges I was starting to see by becoming a journalist. 

I’m just circling back to that dream after going to university and working on climate and environmental politics through research. I was really enjoying my research work, but I wanted to be interacting with people more — one of my favourite things to do is have a conversation that expands my view of the world.

The kicker that ultimately led me to journalism was that I was getting increasingly concerned about the polarization of our public discourse. I started to become quite enamoured with journalists who are beautiful storytellers and can talk about issues in ways that bring out the common denominators of our shared experience. I think that skill is essential to breaking down some of these silos, and I really wanted to learn how to do that. 

Why did you want to do your internship with The Narwhal? 

It’s funny: as soon as I started journalism school, they asked us where we might like to intern and I was like, “The Narwhal.” I knew immediately.

First of all, I care deeply about the issues The Narwhal covers. I also think the journalists are incredible storytellers. When I read Narwhal articles, I feel like I’m having a conversation with the people who are featured. You also write about issues in a way that doesn’t try to smooth over complexity or nuance. I appreciate and value these skills a lot, and I wanted to learn from these journalists.

What sparked your interest in the natural world?

When I was five years old, my family moved from Vancouver to the Sunshine Coast — a small coastal community a short ferry ride from the city. I remember suddenly being surrounded by so much nature. I spent my first year living there mapping out all of the trees and plants on our property and getting a sense of when they would bloom. I remember this beautiful mock orange that would make our entire property smell incredible. I was an only child and pretty quiet and introspective, so I spent a lot of time with those plants. I started associating having a familiarity with the nature around me as feeling at home. I still feel that.  

Then when I moved to Vancouver Island after high school, I started going on trips to old-growth forests. Those giant trees would dwarf me but make me feel like I was part of a bigger ecosystem. At the same time, I was learning how precarious that ecosystem is. The injustice of that spurred me to get involved in environmental work.

What gets you so jazzed about the climate impacts of pension capital?

In Canada, our pensions are larger than our annual GDP, meaning that they hold over $2 trillion. They’re major building blocks in our economy. They’re also heavily invested in fossil fuels, both in terms of company shares and in fossil fuel projects like pipelines. Pension capital is part of what’s keeping the fossil fuel industry afloat. It’s such an irony because we’re paying into pensions to make our futures more secure and yet the things that our pensions are investing in are endangering our futures. I think this is happening because the financial sector is so opaque. It’s almost by design: in Canada, you can’t see what most public pensions are invested in. I think there’s a potential to galvanize people to take ownership of their pensions and use that huge amount of capital to invest in the energy transition. I see a lot of challenges, but also a lot of potential opportunities in our pension funds. 

What do you think — or hope! — the future of journalism holds? 

I think and hope that there’s a growing appetite for journalism that’s complex and nuanced and that doesn’t talk down to its readers. I also think and hope that there’s an increased awareness and acknowledgement that we need to support that journalism both through sharing it on social media and also financially through reader support. The Narwhal model is really exciting because it suggests that when you do the stuff that people want, people are willing to support it. 

I see a lot of really hopeful signs that things are changing in the right ways, but I am also very concerned about the consolidation of news, the loss of local news outlets and mass layoffs, especially in the wake of the pandemic. I think we’re on that razor’s edge of wonderful things happening in unprecedented ways and really concerning things happening. Sometimes it’s hard to know where to look.

Journalism can be a stressful business. What do you do to relax? 

I’ve been practising Ashtanga yoga for 13 years, and I’ve taught it on and off, so that’s a big part of my life. Getting out of my head and getting into my breath and being in my body is a really invaluable thing to do on a daily basis. 

Since the pandemic, I’ve rediscovered just going for walks without listening to music. I’ve been getting a sense of my neighbourhood, enjoying all the flowers and the plants and the smells and getting in touch with that sensory experience. I always find that I’m in a better mood when I come back.

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

When people ask me why I decided to go to journalism school, I always tell them I was inspired by The Narwhal. 

I’ve been following the online magazine since it launched two years ago, and I’ve witnessed how well-told stories have the power to break open political silos and hold power to account. It’s a critical time for our planet, and we need this kind of journalism now more than ever. 

That’s why I’m over-the-moon-excited to be The Narwhal’s first-ever intern. 

As a journalism student, I often hear that I’m entering into a dying industry. 

The Narwhal offers a powerful example to the contrary. 

In a decade of unprecedented layoffs across Canada’s media industry, The Narwhal is bucking the trend. It’s hiring more journalists to write groundbreaking investigative stories and signing up more monthly members to support that invaluable work.

Even in the midst of the global pandemic, The Narwhal had the most successful membership drive in its history. In fact, more than 450 people have become monthly members since the COVID-19 crisis hit. 

Those numbers tell us part of the story, but we learn even more when members explain why they’ve decided to support right now. 

“In these very difficult times, with potentially looking at a whole year without income, it’s not an easy decision,” writes Michael, a new monthly member. “But what you do is that important. Thank you and keep going. You are on the right path.”

For The Narwhal’s second birthday, I got the chance to ask founders Carol Linnitt and Emma Gilchrist to reflect on their first two years and weigh in on what’s next. 

Why did you start The Narwhal?

Emma: We started The Narwhal because there’s been a huge erosion of environment reporting in Canada over the last decade or two. I was working at the Calgary Herald about a decade ago and at that time there was an environment reporter at almost every newspaper in Canada. If you fast-forward to today, almost none of those environment reporters are left. We saw this huge void at a time when biodiversity loss and the climate crisis were top concerns for Canadians. 

Carol: We were in this unique position as journalists to reflect on how many fascinating and sometimes harrowing stories about the environment were going untold. We started to dream up a publication that would not only fill that gap, but would actually reimagine the way that environmental journalism was done. We wanted the publication to have a pulse. We wanted our stories to have this verve and a sense of urgency, even a sense of excitement, to them — and to bring those environmental stories to the world. 

How did you come up with the name?

Emma: I was looking for a Father’s Day present for my dad at one of those kooky gift stores, and they had this Canadiana apron with Mounties, trees, moose and a narwhal. I saw it and I was like, “The Narwhal!”

Carol: Emma just texted me “The Narwhal,” and I was like, ooh!

Emma: So I went home and bought the domain. And I also bought the apron for my dad — he still has it.

The famous apron that inspired our name. Narwhal Editor-in-Chief Emma Gilchrist gifted this beauty to her dad, Peter Gilchrist, on Father’s Day 2017. Can you spot the narwhals? Photo: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

The Narwhal began during a decade when record numbers of publications across Canada were going out of business. Why do you think The Narwhal has succeeded against the odds?

Emma: It comes down to our relationship with our readers. Sometimes they send us story ideas and sources. And they’ve also become financial supporters of the organization by becoming monthly members and donors. It’s that direct relationship with our readership that is unique and that has made us succeed during otherwise difficult times. 

We don’t run any advertising, and it’s really the ad business that’s been falling away for media. We very consciously chose to be a nonprofit, and that fosters a very direct relationship with our readers because they’re the only people we serve.

What role do you think The Narwhal plays in Canada’s media landscape?

Emma: I’m proudest of our work to bring readers into the heart of the process and give them a meaningful way to take part in democracy — because journalism is such an essential part of an informed democracy. We also bring a different tone and voice as an organization that’s run by young women. We’re not trying to be a traditional news outlet that covers the environment. We’re trying to bring a little more voice to it and be more engaging. 

Carol:  Sometimes I describe The Narwhal as telling ugly stories beautifully. The subject matter we cover is difficult. It can be exhausting. We recognize that there is a well-researched problem of people tuning out to what’s happening with the natural world because it’s so overwhelming. And it’s very difficult for people to know where their power is, where their voice is and how they can help in meaningful ways. 

We want to reinvigorate people’s relationship with the natural world, but also wanted to re-enchant what journalism could be. Sometimes it’s about oil and gas companies not paying money into the orphan well levy, which can be kind of dry and policy-heavy. But we’re also sending journalists and photographers into the field to tromp into forgotten rainforests and look at enormous cedars and tell the other, beautiful side of the story of destruction. Our emphasis on visual storytelling is on full display in the fact that we had four of six nominations in the photo essay category of this year’s Digital Publishing Awards. 

What has been your most rewarding moment at The Narwhal?

Emma: I think the most rewarding moment has been during the COVID-19 crisis, when we have had the most support from our readers ever. One of my favourite parts of my job is reading the donor comments. I love reading why they decide to become monthly members. These comments are a constant reminder to do right by these people. We’re built on the small donations of thousands of people. 

Carol: For me, it was receiving the gold in the photo essay category at the Canadian Online Publishing Awards and getting to get up on stage to say, “This is the accomplishment of our readers.” After telling our audience that we needed to raise $10,000 to get photos of a new, remote generation of mines in B.C., they stepped up to the plate and fully funded that award-winning piece of content.

What has surprised you most during these first two years?

Carol: The speed of our growth. We hoped that we had landed on a good concept and that we were successfully putting ducks in rows, but I don’t think we had a true sense of just how quickly The Narwhal would flourish. It has genuinely surprised and delighted me.

Emma: We’ve gone from two staff when we launched to 10. The growth has been exponential at a time when a lot of media outlets are struggling. I would have never in a million years believed that we would get 450 new members in six weeks during the greatest economic crash since the Great Depression! 

Carol: Another thing that still surprises me after all these years of being a journalist is what it takes behind the scenes to make a really stellar piece of journalism come to life. We just published an investigation into the harassment of fisheries observers that was so much work — from finding the sources, to talking to the sources, to convincing sources to go on the record, to the rounds of legal review. It’s a monumental effort, and it’s very time consuming and expensive. 

Where do you see The Narwhal headed in the coming years?

Emma: I see our membership program becoming more and more crucial to our success and us being able to expand into more geographic places because of reader support.

Carol: I see us developing more capacity to do more of the in-depth work that we’re becoming known for. We recognize that people don’t want more — they want better. One of the ways I see us growing is by becoming better at what we do and not just getting bigger. 

We’re in the midst of a strange time with COVID-19. What’s keeping you going?

Emma: For me, it’s about getting outside. It helps me keep going and reminds me why we do what we do. Last week, I was out surfing and I had a grey whale in the surf line-up with me — that’s going to keep me going until October! That and the tremendous reader support.

Carol: One of the things that keeps me going is thinking about all the places we can’t go right now. We had to cancel a bunch of reporting trips, and a lot of work that we do is on the ground. I’ve been reflecting on the incredible places that our work has taken us — to Yukon, northern B.C., the coast, northern Alberta. If anything this time of slowing down and focusing has reignited my excitement for getting back out there and exploring these wild places, these endangered places, to meet the beautiful people who live there and tell their stories.

What’s your favourite Narwhal fact? 

Emma: It’s so hard to choose just one! They’re one of the deepest diving mammals and their tusk is actually an overgrown tooth that functions like a very sensitive antenna.

Carol: A group of narwhals is called a blessing, which is, you know, adorable and seems to ring true every day for us around here.

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.

Natalia Balcerzak was out for an evening run in Ottawa in 2017, when she came upon a perturbing scene on Parliament Hill. Police officers were trying to stop about a dozen First Nations activists from carrying a log onto the grounds to erect a teepee to draw attention to Indigenous issues during Canada’s 150th birthday celebrations.

Natalia, who was working in tourism following several international posts as a journalist, went into reporter mode, filming on her phone as activists were arrested and dragged away. She shared her footage with a television station and connected activists with other news crews, helping them share their story with a wider audience. When she left the scene at 3 a.m., she was exhausted but exhilarated. She knew she wanted to — no, had to — return to journalism. 

So, after working as a reporter in Israel, a radio news writer in Australia, an editor in Toronto and a TV news production assistant in London, England — and travelling to 38 countries — Natalia decided to move to the small northwest B.C. city of Terrace to work at the community newspaper and live in a tiny home. Two years later, she joined The Narwhal as our northwest B.C. reporter — a position funded through the federal government’s Local Journalism Initiative. While it may seem surprising that a jetsetter like Natalia landed in northwest B.C., it makes perfect sense once you get to know her.

Q: What inspired you to become a journalist?

A: I’ve always thought my life purpose was to be a storyteller, so I devoured books, pursued theatre and asked everyone too many intense questions growing up. In poetic terms, I wanted to live 1,000 lives, so I was eager for any opportunity to get out of my comfort zone and journalism allows me to do just that.

I was also inspired by being brought up in the Polish immigrant community in Toronto. Stories of the Communist era, the World Wars and the hardships of trying to make a life in a foreign country were constantly told. I couldn’t ignore the reminders of what was lost and sacrificed for me to live comfortably in Canada — I had to give back somehow. I was also frustrated with how my family was mistreated and pushed down because of our “foreign” identity, which is all too common for a lot of people, so I felt compelled to challenge the world on that front. 

I see journalism as a responsibility to instil a balance of meaning and good into our lives, while also scribbling down those first drafts of history.

Q: Why does northwest B.C. need a Narwhal reporter?

A: There is a lot of energy in northwest B.C. right now as people from across the country move here, but that creates problems as it often feels like the Wild West. Rules can seem more like suggestions.

I think it’s important for The Narwhal to have a reporter in this region because lots of projects and issues have gone under the radar for too long, but that doesn’t mean the impacts won’t be felt eventually.

Q: Why did you decide to live in a tiny home community?

A: It’s the perfect middle point between having a space to myself, living among nature and being surrounded by like-minded company. I’d like to say it’s for the minimalist lifestyle, but I’m a thrift store enthusiast, which contradicts that. What I really value though is the constant creativity required to make everything fit (such as stuffing my bean bag chair with winter coats) and the coziness of my loft, which feeds my childhood dream of living in a treehouse. 

The village is surrounded by mountains and forest with a river and lakes nearby, so I’m fortunate to literally have that as my backyard. We also have bonfires, potlucks and a small community garden with chickens, so it’s super fun to have this unique social aspect of my home life.

Q: What did you learn from travelling that influences your work as a journalist?

A: That we really aren’t that different as humans, no matter where we’re from. Sure, there’s a variety of culture, languages and physicalities that give us distinction, but at the core, we’re all just trying to make it through life. It was so humbling to connect with people from different backgrounds to share a joke or meal.

I also couch surfed, hitchhiked and always looked for the least luxurious travel options to get me a close-up view into people’s lives, which required a lot of trust and good faith in strangers. Those rich (and sometimes emotional) experiences propelled me to search for that human aspect in people through my stories. 

Q: How has the COVID-19 pandemic changed your outlook on life?

A: This pandemic has made me realize how much we rely on social gatherings as human beings and the importance of the arts to get us through this. Although I enjoy living alone and having that time to myself, it’s strange to not have anything social to look forward to in the coming months. I think we all crave those connections, even if it’s just a casual chat at the store, to add that zest to our lives. 

With that said, I do think it’s an incredible moment to absorb what we can through books, films, music, comedy and talks. I’m also seeing more appreciation for long-form journalism beyond the 24-hour news cycle. 

Q: What are three fun facts about you? 

A: During my childhood, my sisters and I brought home a Jack Russell Terrier against my mother’s wishes. A month later, on my sister’s sixth birthday, we received a frantic call from my mom (who ironically used to be a midwife) that our dog had unexpectedly given birth to six puppies. We went from “no dogs allowed in this house” to seven canines … guess who was the coolest kid on the block that summer?

I recently went through military screenings to apply for an imagery technician role with the Canadian Armed Forces, which involves taking photos and videos of the troops at home and abroad. I’ve always wanted to pursue foreign correspondence, so thought this would be a neat middle ground.

I have no middle name, which makes me sad sometimes as I wish I had another alias to go by.

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

As a child, Julien Gignac looked forward to visiting his family on the Six Nations of the Grand River reserve, an hour outside of his hometown of London, Ont. One of the highlights of those visits was sitting on his great-grandmother’s porch and listening to her stories. Themes of interconnectedness, respect for the natural world and the importance of giving back ran through her narratives, laying the foundation for Julien’s work as a journalist, which has recently brought him to The Narwhal as our new Yukon reporter — a position funded through the federal government’s Local Journalism Initiative. 

“She had this wealth of knowledge,” Julien says of his late great-grandmother, a residential school survivor. “She was my connection to my culture.”  

After graduating from Carleton University’s School of Journalism, Julien, who is Mohawk, landed coveted roles at Canada’s top legacy newspapers. He had a year-long Indigenous fellowship at The Globe and Mail before joining the Toronto Star as a breaking news reporter. Then one day he up and left “The Six” for Yukon, where he had never stepped foot before. Here he tells us about his path to The Narwhal and his work as a journalist.

Q: Why did you move to Yukon?  

A: I wanted a beat, I wanted to cover politics and a job came up at Yukon News. The paper is really scrappy and has an investigative bent to it — much like The Narwhal — so that was a definite draw. I wanted to get my feet wet and study how the governments work, including First Nations. Yukon First Nations are trailblazers. How they operate is totally different from how First Nations operate in the south. They have far more jurisdiction over their own matters, which is really fascinating to me, and I wanted to learn more about it. I also wanted an adventure. I wanted to be in a new place unlike any I’d been before and get really far out there. Having a little bit more space to think and learn and be close to nature has been great. Now being at The Narwhal, I’m able to focus exclusively on environmental and First Nations issues, which have always lit a fire under me. I’m looking forward to bringing more awareness to issues here that might otherwise not be on people’s radar and having more impact with my stories.

Q: What challenges and opportunities do you have as an Indigenous journalist?

A: Some topics can feel deeply personal, whether I’m covering or reading about them — racism and oppression, for example. It can be a tough slog sometimes. I’ve realized my place in it all, though, and the type of power I have, which, historically, wasn’t there. This translates to more reporting on underrepresented communities, to giving back. Running through it all is a big dose of responsibility and care for the people and places I report on in order to effect what could be positive change. This last bit is the greatest thing about journalism, in my opinion. 

Q: What’s the biggest compliment you’ve received as a journalist?

A: On my last day at Yukon News, Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation Chief Dana Tizya-Tramm said, “Wow, you’re one of the guys I trust out there.” This meant a lot to me, more than he probably knew. I don’t think he was even fully aware of my background. It didn’t matter. Hearing he trusted me to tell stories that affect his community, given the rocky relationship between journalists and First Nations in the past, made me think I must be doing something right. As a Native person, it made me feel like I am contributing in some way despite being so far away from my home. 

Q: What’s the toughest story you’ve ever covered? 

A: Recently, it was the inquest into the death of Cynthia Blackjack, a 29-year-old First Nations woman. Blackjack had contacted the community health centre in Carmacks, Yukon, several days in a row due to dental pain. The day before she died, she was tentatively diagnosed with alcohol-induced gastritis. She was told to find a ride to the hospital in Whitehorse. When her condition worsened, she was medevaced to hospital but died on the flight due to organ failure. The whole case centred on whether there were systemic failings. The jury deemed it an accident. The people who felt it the most were her family, members of Little Salmon/Carmacks First Nation. It was a tough two weeks — the arguments, reams of paperwork and deadlines, and the emotional toll that was, at times, palpable in the room. 

Q: You’re also a photographer. What can photos do that words can’t?

A: Photos can slow everything down. Everything is super-fast nowadays, and people can get a bit swept up in the news cycle. Photos allow you to present an issue in a really concise, accurate and raw way that words can’t. I try to tell a story in one frame. That’s part of the reason I’m happy to be working for The Narwhal, which does long-form, investigative work. Images can really help with features like that. People are drawn to visuals.

Q: What hobbies have you picked up since moving to Yukon?

A: All of the outdoor “hobbies” I had when I lived in the South have now become actual ones — fishing, hiking, ice skating on frozen lakes. I want a canoe. Nature is just so accessible here. 

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.

Proof that The Narwhal is in the midst of a pivotal period of growth is on full display in the hiring of our newest staff member: Arik Ligeti.

A former digital editor at The Globe and Mail, Arik is part news hound, part data hawk — a creature we doubted we’d ever find during the hiring search. As a non-profit and reader-funded organization, The Narwhal’s relationship with its readers is at its core — but that requires the constant upkeep of databases, website upgrades and analytical genius to keep in touch with what our readers want and expand our audience.

Sure, it might be unglamorous to some. But for the number crunchers and innovators, the behind-the-scenes work of running a thriving non-profit newsroom is also where all the magic happens.

Our team is thrilled to have Arik and his notable newsletter skills join The Narwhal.

Q: What inspired you to become a journalist?

A: Believe it or not, an early childhood goal was to become a sports commentator. I was also obsessed with tracking player statistics (hello, audience analytics!). Then, in high school, we were fortunate to have a radio station, which gave me the chance to fumble my way through a weekly show.

But things really clicked in the first year of my journalism degree: I jumped head-first into reporting for Carleton’s campus paper, The Charlatan, and came to appreciate the value in keeping our community informed — and the thrill of breaking a story.

Q: You had a pretty skookum job at The Globe and Mail as a digital editor. Why did you decide to join The Narwhal?

A: In the midst of a climate crisis, The Narwhal has been producing incredible investigative and solutions-based work around environmental issues. We need more of this kind of coverage in Canadian media — and we need to ensure we’re exhausting all options to ensure it’s getting in front of as many people as possible.

That’s why I’m eager to bring my skillset from my time at The Globe. My work there included revamping the flagship morning newsletter, responding to reader feedback and crafting explainers — duties that put the audience front and centre.

Q: What are you most excited about in your new role?

A: I’m thrilled to be working every day to help build an even stronger community of Narwhal readers and members. That will mean constant experimentation and listening to our audience to find out what they want, and what can be improved.

Q: What’s one of your favourite pieces of journalism from 2019? Why?

A: I loved this collaborative piece from MLK50 and ProPublica about low-income patients in Tennessee being sued over unpaid medical debts. In order to get those people to share their stories, the outlets sent letters in the mail and plastered flyers in neighbourhoods. Before the investigation was even published, a doctors group agreed to stop suing patients. Those engagement efforts proved that no community is too hard to reach.

Q: Do you have any secret talents?

A: I have an encyclopedic knowledge of all the cool events happening in town (yes, even your town).

Q: What’s a meal that reminds you of your childhood?

A: All of my grandmother’s cooking! I loved coming home after school to the smells of Hungarian dishes emanating from the kitchen. If I had to pick one meal, it’d probably be her cabbage rolls; it’s one of the staples we always make together when I go visit.

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.

Here at The Narwhal, we’re beside-ourselves-excited to introduce Kelly Boutsalis as the recipient of our inaugural Indigenous Journalism Fellowship.

Originally from the Six Nations of the Grand River reserve in southwestern Ontario, Boutsalis now lives in Toronto where she writes on topics as diverse as parenting, Indigenous cultural revival and aging for Elle, Chatelaine, NOW Magazine and VICE.

We caught up with Boutsalis to learn more about the woman behind the journalism as she digs into her first in-depth feature for The Narwhal.

Q. What’s one defining feature about you as a journalist?

A. I write positive stories about Indigenous people, particularly in outlets where it isn’t the status quo.

Q. Is there a time over your career as a journalist that you can remember something really surprising you?

A. How hungry outlets are for Indigenous reporters and writers, honestly. It’s great for me, and for other amazing Indigenous journalists out there — Tanya Talaga, Alicia Elliott to name just a few — and it speaks to how much our stories haven’t been valued before and how times are, hopefully, changing.

Q. What’s one of your favourite pieces of journalism from 2019? Why?

A. The New York Times Magazine story that followed a handful of people trying to escape the wildfire in Paradise, California.

It was claustrophobic and terrifyingly visceral. Also, anything that the incredibly smart, talented and funny Scaachi Koul, Taffy Brodesser-Akner and Caity Weaver write.

Q. What do you think are some of the particular challenges when it comes to reporting on Indigenous stories in Canada? And within those challenges do you see opportunities?

A. Many stories about Indigenous people often don’t include Indigenous sources and that’s been a problem for a very long time, that other people are telling our stories.

I think Indigenous knowledge is often dismissed as not being “expert” enough, but those voices are so important to include and that’s something I strive to do, to see the value of our stories, our experience, and our lives and put that into media.

Q. Without giving away any surprises, can you give a hint about the upcoming feature you’re going to write for The Narwhal?

A. One hint is that it came from a nugget from my favourite journalism from the year.

Q. Can you string together a list of random facts about yourself?

A. Went zip-lining the day after I got married; despite my numerous attempts to learn how, I cannot drive; named my child after a member of the Wu-Tang Clan; I have a tattoo of a dolphin I keep as a cautionary tale; and I once slipped on a discarded banana peel in a parking lot.

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

The Narwhal has been accepted as a member of the Institute for Nonprofit News — becoming the institute’s only publisher based in Canada.

The institute — headquartered in California — is a network of nearly 200 newsrooms that produce journalism in the public interest. Members include well-established investigative journalism outlets such as ProPublica, the Center for Investigative Reporting, Mother Jones and the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.

“It’s an incredible honour to be named among so many non-profit heavyweights, doing some of the most important investigative journalism in the United States,” Carol Linnitt, co-founder and managing editor of The Narwhal, said.

All members of the Institute for Nonprofit News produce high-quality original news reporting and adhere to standards of editorial independence and financial transparency. In 2018, the institute’s members had a total estimated staff of about 3,000 — including nearly 2,200 journalists — and combined annual revenue approaching $350 million.

But the members also adhere to a brand of journalism that is increasingly rare in today’s media world — journalism that isn’t profit-driven.

While the non-profit news sector has flourished south of the border, there are few examples of thriving non-profit news outlets in Canada — in part due to differences in charitable law. In the U.S., funding journalism has long been viewed as a charitable activity, which has enabled large-scale philanthropic support for non-profit news.

In last month’s budget, Canada’s federal government announced a plan to allow eligible news organizations to earn qualified donee status, which will enable them to issue tax receipts and receive gifts from Canadian registered charities.

Launched in May 2018, The Narwhal receives support from more than 1,000 readers. In our first year, we have won four Canadian Online Publishing Awards and been nominated for three awards from the Canadian Association of Journalists.  

“As a publication that relies on donations from our readers, The Narwhal has had to reinvigorate that broken relationship between journalists and their audience,” Linnitt said. “The non-profit challenge is one that inherently drives us to reconnect with our readers to deliver the news in deeper and more meaningful ways.”

The Institute for Nonprofit News has a long history of supporting media outlets that cover critical but controversial topics like climate change, immigration, criminal justice and money and influence. The institute’s members consistently report on stories that are undercovered in traditional and legacy media outlets.

The Narwhal’s team of award-winning journalists are playing an important role in revitalizing public interest journalism in Canada, where non-profit outlets are few and far between.

Our investigations have revealed information about orphaned oil and gas wells, public funds given to secretive numbered companies, muzzling of scientists in the Trudeau era, companies escaping fines for breaking environmental laws and how mining companies avoid paying taxes and fees to the communities they operate in.

“It’s a privilege to be supported by Canadians to do this kind of impactful public interest journalism,” Linnitt 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.