When the sun rose on the final day of our 12-day hike in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and we still hadn’t seen the Porcupine Caribou herd, the reality that we might not see caribou at all was beginning to sink in for many of us, and the collective mood was sombre.

A team of photographers, artists and Indigenous leaders had been assembled by the International League of Conservation Photographers to document the herd’s epic migration — one of the longest and harshest of any land mammal.

For the bulk of the trip, as we hiked across tussocky tundra, baren shale mountainsides and frigid Arctic rivers in search of caribou, we took the opportunity to document the myriad other flora and fauna that make up this unique ecosystem, while reflecting on the unexpectedly cold temperatures that were foiling our plans.

An unusually cold spring and summer in the northern reaches of the Yukon and Northwest Territories meant the herd’s usual migration through the safety and comfort of Alaska’s coastal plain was disrupted and rendered unpredictable.

Slightly warmer temperatures are needed to spark the mass migration of this herd that begins their near-mystical journey — one of the longest and harshest of any land mammal — for the most prosaic of reasons: fleeing a seasonal plague of mosquitoes.

We were, rather perversely, praying for a swarm of distant pests.

By day 11 we reached the edge of the Hulahula river, where, in two days time, we were scheduled to be picked up by a bush pilot.

Spirits were low as we awaited the plane. Eleven days and neither hide nor hair of the caribou we had come to see.

Then, almost miraculously, as we finished breakfast on that last day, a group of paddlers sent word of the unimaginable: thousands of caribou sighted a mere 20 kilometres from our camp.

That brief satellite message would send us scrambling 19 hours straight over harsh terrain and through a dense fog — into which one member of our party would eventually disappear.

The Hulahula river flows north to the Beaufort Sea, from the Brooks range mountains in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

The waiting game

Each year, the Porcupine caribou herd embarks on one of the longest migrations on earth. From the northern reaches of the Yukon and Northwest Territories, they make their way to the relative safety of Alaska’s coastal plain where, by late May, they calve and nurse the next generation.

I was lucky to witness the herd’s migration in the Yukon in the summer of 2016. It was a revelation to see thousands of caribou stream by at close range over the course of a few days. What struck me most then was the realization that those six-week-old calves had already journeyed 200 kilometres or more in their short lives.

Since that time, the news has been both good and bad for the herd. The Porcupine is the only barren-ground caribou herd across the north that is not in steep decline.

However, while the caribou themselves know no border, the American political climate and details buried in a controversial tax bill have created a crisis for the herd and the Gwich’in people who span northern Canada and Alaska and have depended on them for tens of thousands of years.

The ‘1002 lands’ of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge align almost perfectly with the caribou’s traditional calving grounds and Trump’s ‘Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017’ has suddenly opened up this slice of untouched Arctic wilderness to oil and gas developers, after a decades-long battle with the Gwich’in First Nations and members of the scientific and conservation communities.

Map showing overlap of 1002 area lands and the Porcupine caribou herd range. Illustration: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

I recently made my way to Fairbanks, Alaska, to join a team of photographers and artists with the International League of Conservation Photographers, as well as Jeffrey Peter, member of the Vuntut Gwich’in First Nation from Old Crow, Yukon.

“There’s a lot at stake here,” Peter said, adding his experience of becoming a father for the first time had altered his perspective on the caribou, making him take stock of the legacy he hopes to pass on to future generations.

“I’ve always been concerned about the issue, but now I’m at a point in my life where I’m able to clearly describe why the caribou are so important to Gwich’in, and help others understand that.”

For the Gwich’in, the fight to protect and prolong the life of this wild herd is no less than existential.

Jeffrey Peter surveys the landscape for signs of caribou and other wildlife in the Brooks Range mountains. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

‘Any more development in the refuge at all will wipe us out’

Bernadette Demientieff, the U.S. executive director of the Gwich’in Steering Committee, works on behalf of the collective of First Nations to raise awareness of the refuge with decision-makers in Washington, D.C.

“Any more development in the refuge at all will wipe us out,” Demientieff told me. “This is our health and our way of life that this administration is stomping all over.”

So far, according to Demientieff, the pleas of the Gwich’in have gone unaddressed in the halls of power.

“The refuge is now open for the first time in history, so they have ignored our concerns,” she said.

“They don’t seem to understand what we’re saying. For the Indigenous people in this country, oppression and genocide continue to this day. It’s 2018 and we’re still fighting for our human rights.”

Just two days earlier, the bi-annual Gwich’in Gathering wrapped up in Tsiigehtchic, N.W.T., where a declaration was signed reaffirming the Gwich’in commitment to protect the calving grounds.

“The first Gwich’in gathering in over 150 years was held in 1988, and that was when our elders and chiefs got together, because of drilling in the coastal plain,” explained Demientieff, “so now every two years, we come together and reaffirm our commitment. Our identity is not up for negotiation.”

Bernadette Demientieff, executive director of the Gwich’in Steering Committee in Fairbanks, Alaska. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

Thin ice in caribou country

When our bush plane finally dropped us off at the Collins airstrip in the heart of the Brooks range mountains and then flew away, leaving us alone with our 70-pound backpacks and a startling silence, an adrenaline rush packed with both excitement and apprehension kicked in.

We were on our way, hiking over tundra and forging rivers.

As our journey stretched on, we used a satellite phone to connect with a research biologist from the Government of Yukon. We hoped some external insight could help us pinpoint the location of the herd.

The incoming news was bad: the herd’s usual post-calving aggregation in the foothills still hadn’t begun.

We needed temperatures on the coastal plain to warm up, prompting mosquitoes to drive the herd into the foothills and then the mountains in search of higher ground.

We had planned for months — done everything we could to give ourselves the best opportunity to see the herd on our planned 12-day journey — but the caribou still weren’t on the move up into the Brooks range mountains where we hoped to intercept them.

And so, we hiked, day after day.

Expedition members traverse open tundra north of the Collins airstrip in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, on day one of the trip. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

It was obvious, even in their absence, that this is caribou country: every patch of mud bore the tell-tale tracks of earlier caribou movement, and our group followed in millennia-old caribou trails weaving through tussocks and carved into shale-covered mountainsides.

When we finally received news on our last day that there were caribou nearby, our group was elated. We quickly mobilized for a day trek, taking just the barest of essentials.

A significant portion of the herd had been spotted heading toward us, 20 kilometres from our camp.

On terrain as rugged as this, we could expect that to make for a challenging six-hour hike. As we had to return to our same camp site at the Grassers airstrip beside the Hulahula, we were lucky to be able to pack light, but realized our day could end up being closer to a 40-kilometre round-trip saga — about the distance of a marathon.

After an extended river crossing, the team stopped to wring out wet socks and re-apply tape to blistered feet. Our group broke out the binoculars and took turns peering northward down the Hulahula valley, desperately scanning for any sign of caribou.

I mounted my longest lens and noticed hundreds of tiny brown ‘rocks’ that appeared to slowly crawl across the valley slope several kilometres away.

A feeling of jubilation washed over our group as the ever-growing spectre of failure evaporated: we were finally within sight of thousands of caribou, dotting the slopes of the valley across from us.

The herd was still over an hour’s hike away and we were also conscious of the fact that we had at least another six hours to go before getting back to camp.

Sitting atop a pingo, a type of ice-cored mountain unique to the Arctic, we consumed some of the very last calories of food packed for the trip, and planned our final push to bring us close enough to document the herd.

When our northernmost vantage point was finally reached, our view opened up upon what we estimated to be nearly 10,000 caribou.

Bulls pushed up slope toward rockier precipices, cows grazed and rested periodically, while calves sprinted about awkwardly, experimenting with their frisky legs beneath them.

Porcupine caribou cover the valley of the Hulahula river in the Brooks range mountains of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

A Porcupine caribou crosses a braided section of the Hulahula River. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

Caribou move along the banks of the Hulahula River. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

Lost in the fog

We had spent about two hours in the presence of the caribou and began to calculate how many hours of sleep we’d get after our long journey back.

We reluctantly packed up and headed out just as a light but steady rain began. A claustrophobic fog slowly settled over the valley.

What was already sure to be a challenging hike home became a cruel reminder that wild places like the refuge owe nobody safe passage.

The fog and rain grew heavier and our tiring team of 10 gradually began to spread out. With camp tantalizingly close, and believing navigation to be straightforward, one of our members forged ahead alone.

Just after 10 p.m. a few of us paused to scrape the bottom of our peanut butter jars and rehydrate in lieu of an actual dinner. Back on the trail, we came upon a creek that had risen to the point of raging thanks to several hours of rain.

It was immediately apparent that this obstacle would prove too much for a solo crossing — our minds turned to our friend who had pushed ahead of the group.

Had he attempted to pass and been swept down the river, it could be fatal. Searching for an alternate route, he could become lost in the unrelenting fog.

Back at camp, our fears were confirmed: our solo hiker had not arrived.

Forming a search party, pairs patrolled the edge of the river and adjacent valleys, where he may have ventured had he become disoriented.

One hour later, nothing. The night crept on. With the darkness and wet and fear settling into our bones, we hit hour two. Not a trace.

It wasn’t until after four in the morning that we’d finally reunite.

The lost team member was located back near that flooded creek, cold, wet and still searching in vain for a safe place to cross.

Rattled by this close call, our entire crew crashed hard just before 5 a.m. — just a scant few hours before our scheduled extraction flight.

We ultimately succeeded in our mission to see the caribou, but were also served a serious reminder of the harsh and unforgiving environment the caribou have to endure, even in the middle of summer.

Peering out over the sprawling grandeur of the refuge from the bush plane the next morning, I felt an exhausted mix of joy at having witnessed the caribou herd on their distant terrain and relief at our team having escaped that terrain intact.

Arctic fox remains atop a small pingo in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge serve as a reminder of the high stakes at play. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

The disturbance

For more than a decade Jeffrey Peter worked in Vuntut National park, tucked into northwest corner of the Yukon and separated from the wildlife refuge by no more than an imaginary international border.

Prior to this trip, he had never actually crossed over into the refuge. Now, having done so, he struggled to comprehend how the caribou can be so well protected on one side of the border, while their existence — and the existence of the Gwich’in nation across the north — is threatened by developments on the other.

“There are thousands of Canadian Gwich’in directly affected by this, and the herd spends a large part of the year in Canada,” he said. “If there is development in the calving grounds, we would see less and less caribou in Canada. They’re such an important part of the ecosystem and they have a big role to play on the Canadian side as well.”

Our group witnessed firsthand how something as minor as a few degrees temperature change, and something as small as a mosquito, can dictate when and where the herd will move.

And while our entire group took every precaution to not disturb the herd, we noticed how sensitive the caribou were to the presence of two-legged creatures, lurking with cameras in the shrubs a couple hundred metres away.

Having seen that, it seemed a stretch that oil and gas development in calving grounds would not have a significant effect on the herd.

Indeed, we have known for decades that human-caused disturbance on the landscape — roads, pipelines, drilling rigs and more — can have long-lasting impacts on caribou, even many kilometres away. It can cause individuals to lose weight, a devastating impact on a species that works endlessly to build fat reserves to survive the cold.

In just a few years in the late 1970s and through the 1980s, a surge of oil and gas activity near Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, redistributed the Western Arctic caribou herd on the landscape as they avoided roads and developments — even going to places where the food is less plentiful to avoid the disturbance — resulting in fewer calves.

The findings of scientists are in lockstep with the traditional knowledge and first-hand experience of the Gwich’in.

For Peter, the idea of brute industrial activity in the calving grounds is unthinkable.

“For all of human history, and predating that, it’s been unspoiled,” he said.

“To have this happen in our lifetime, and look back on it decades from now asking ‘how could we have let that happen?’ It just seems so irresponsible and short-sighted.”

Expedition members cross an alpine river in the Brooks Range mountains of the refuge. Photo: Matt Jacques / The Narwhal

‘We’re not going anywhere’

For the photographers on this particular trip, not seeing the caribou would have been a tremendous disappointment, but for Gwich’in the stakes are much higher.

For tens of thousands of years, Peter said, it’s been a matter of life and death whether they saw caribou.

“They had to really understand the movement of the herd and rely on traditional knowledge to allow them to survive,” he said.

“As Gwich’in, if there’s no more caribou, we lose our cultural identity, our connection to the land, to our ancestors. A lot of things get lost if the caribou don’t come back.”

The connection between the landscape, the caribou and the Gwichi’in spans multiple borders, ecoregions and hundreds of generations, and yet that seemingly robust relationship could be easily disrupted by subtle shifts in climate or a sudden re-arrangement of the political landscape.

With the Trump administration’s approval, seismic testing deploying 90,000-pound trucks with metal plates to shake the earth, could begin in the calving grounds as early as this winter.

The resolve of those determined to prevent this from happening has never been greater.  

“Our culture’s been here for thousands of years — we’re not going anywhere,” Peter said. “This is our homeland. We want to continue to be healthy, happy people. To do that, we need caribou.”

Demientieff draws strength from the solidarity she sees across the border, and has faith that the final chapter of the Porcupine caribou has not been written.

“Our relatives in Canada are standing with us. We’re not going to back down. We’re not going to step aside. We’re going to continue to stand strong, in unity and in prayers, just as our elders directed us to. This fight is not over — far from 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.

In the remote north-eastern corner of Alaska, just under 20-million acres have been set aside as a federal protected area since 1960. The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge has recently come under threat, however, with President Donald Trump’s Department of the Interior proposing lifting restrictions on seismic exploration.

The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge coastal plain has been described as America’s Serengeti, and is the year-round or migratory home to numerous species that are uniquely adapted to the conditions found within this rare expanse of undeveloped wilderness along the Arctic Ocean.

Over tens of thousands of years, both the Porcupine Caribou herd and the Gwich’in people have come to depend on the integrity of that coastal plain for their survival.

“The Gwich'in call this area ‘Iizhik Gwats'an Gwandaii Goodlit,’ the Sacred Place Where Life Begins,” explained Vuntut Gwich’in Councillor Dana Tizya-Tramm via email.

“It is a keystone in the ecosystems of the Arctic, and the heart that beats outside of the Gwich'in chest.”

Oil and gas lobbyists have had the Refuge in their sights from the outset. For decades now, for every push to open up the wildlife refuge to oil and gas development, multiple generations of Gwich’in have stood up to protect the land and the herd that has sustained their way of life.

Disturbance to the landscape can upset a delicate balance between the wildlife that makes its home on the coastal plain.

Brooks Range mountains tower behind lush arctic tundra in Yukon's north slope region. Photo: Matt Jacques | DeSmog Canada

“In a miracle of phenology [the interaction of climate, habitat and plant/animal cycles], Porcupine caribou cows arrive at the coastal plain just as the first flush of spring growth provides a burst of nutrients to them, just as they all deliver their calves at once,” said Yukon Conservation Society energy analyst Sebastian Jones in an emailed response to questions from DeSmog Canada.

“In the first few critical days of a caribou calf’s life, predation is the main hazard. Until they have found their legs, they are easy prey to wolves and bears.”

To the west of the Arctic Refuge, high levels of industrial activity are already taking place, and to the south and east of the narrow coastal plain area where the caribou calving takes place, steep mountain ranges mean less nutrients and more predators.

“There is simply nowhere else suitable for the caribou to go,” said Jones.

Exploration Freeze Beginning to Thaw Under Trump

There have been numerous victories and setbacks in what has been a sustained effort over that time, but for many, any sense of relief or optimism brought about by President Obama’s 2016 move to freeze arctic oil and gas exploration in the Arctic has now vanished.

President Trump’s 2018 Budget includes instructions to the Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources to raise an additional $1B over ten years. Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski — Chair of the Committee — has used the opportunity to champion a renewed push to open the coastal plain to oil and gas exploration. Earlier this month Murkowski introduced legislation that would give a green light to exploration in the Refuge. Republicans have now taken Murkowski’s bill and folded it into their tax reform bill.

“There is palpable concern among the quiet people of our community of 250 people,” said Tizya-Tramm.

“I've even had children as young as 8 years old ask why this is happening and if we can talk with the President, and what they can do. It is hard to see the sincere concern in our youth’s eyes. I encourage them and tell them that we will beat this, as we must.”

Jones said that since the current proposal is exploratory in nature, the true scope and scale of potential activity in the area remains to be seen.

“It depends on what they find. If the feverish dreams of the oil men come true, it will be another Prudhoe Bay — decades of drilling, all-season roads, pipelines, and oil spills.”

For the Gwich’in, Tizya-Tramm says the development would mirror the expected impact on the caribou herd.

“Our entire existence will dwindle with any presence in their calving grounds, period.”

#Trump Eyes #Arctic Wildlife Refuge for #Oil Drilling, Alarming Gwich’in https://t.co/YPUnR7fUHy #ANWR #Arctic #WildlifeConservation @MattJacques

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) November 22, 2017

‘Delicate like Fine China’

“People need to understand just how delicate this area is,” says Tizya-Tramm.  

“Traditionally we stayed out of the Coastal Plains altogether. Tundra is a very sensitive and even seismic testing will scar the land with permanent trails. These caribou have been seen to purposefully stay far away from a soup can laying on the ground. Caribou populations have fallen exponentially in Alberta and other regions where there is development.”

Arctic cottongrass, mosses, other plants and lichens vital to the Porcupine Caribou can take decades to recover from industrial damage, sometimes taking decades to return.

“The picture that arises here, and well known to our people, is that nature is a fine-tuned system. And up in one of the harshest regions in the world, it is especially delicate like fine china. We cannot limit the options of animals that exist in the narrow opportunities afforded to them, especially one of the healthiest remaining herd of caribou left,” explains Tizya-Tramm

Murkowski and supporters have pitched fossil fuel exploration in the area as a quick solution to the American budget deficit, presenting minimal impacts within the coastal plain calving grounds of the Porcupine Caribou.

Murkowski tweeted in November in defense of changes in oil and gas development since ANWR was established.

The size of development pads has decreased by nearly 80% since the 1970s. New technologies have expanded the subsurface reach of the newest rigs by 4,000% over the same period. Many exploration wells are now built using ice roads and ice pads—leaving no impact to the tundra.

— Sen. Lisa Murkowski (@lisamurkowski) November 15, 2017

“Many exploration wells are now built using ice roads and ice pads — leaving no impact to the tundra,” she wrote. 

Jones dismisses any notion of low-impact exploration or development in the area.

“This exploration is supposed to be restricted to winter on ice/snow roads and drill pads; here are multiple problems with this,” he says. “Drill rigs are massive and require multiple large loads, in turn requiring very robust roads. It is not a trivial exercise building ice roads on the tundra sufficient to deploy an oil rig. In recent years, consistent with global warming, it has become less common to have adequate snow to build winter roads, so it may not even be possible.”

Gwich’in Gearing Up for a Fight

While the momentum to open up the Arctic Refuge to development seems to be gaining, Gwich’in and supporters have been stepping up their activity as well.

The Yukon Branch of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society has launched a nationwide petition, lobbying Prime Minister Trudeau to speak up against development in the Arctic Refuge.

A delegation of Gwich’in and other Canadian officials, including Yukon MP Larry Bagnell travelled to Washington, DC earlier this month in the hopes of influencing senate votes on the issue. Upon returning, Bagnell spoke about the trip and raised the issue in the House of Commons.

For Tizya-Tramm and Gwich’in in both Canada and Alaska, the battle has been all-consuming.

“I have been working late into the night and weekends for over a month now simply trying to keep pace,” Tizta-Tramm said.

“This is a time to call upon all of our people and the strong partnerships we have forged over the years.”

The Gwich'in Steering Committee held emergency meetings in Fairbanks earlier in November that brought together tribal leadership, Elders, and community members.

“There we once again came together seeking guidance and unity. To be of one mind, one heart, so that we may speak with one voice.”

Image: Porcupine Caribou crossing the Blow River in north-western Yukon. Photo: Matt Jacques | DeSmog 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.

“This is the biggest challenge as we have at the moment as a company,” Ben van Beurden, chief executive of oil giant Shell, said recently. “The fact that societal acceptance of the energy system as we have it is just disappearing.”

Speaking at the annual CERAWeek energy conference in Houston on March 9, van Beurden described the growing tensions between his industry, which has created our fossil fuel dependent energy system, and the public, which is demanding a switch to clean energy: “I do think trust has been eroded to the point where it starts to become a serious issue for our long-term future.”

The world’s largest oil companies are increasingly faced with public pressure to do something about their impact on climate change. And increasingly we’re seeing their chief executives responding. The question is though, how much is for real and what's just greenwash?

It’s been just over a year since the Paris climate deal was agreed in December 2015 and slowly corporate annual reports are being filed. In these, companies take stock of the year’s changes and assess the future risks to their business. Meanwhile new strategies and corporate statements are being issued. Statoil recently released a climate roadmap and ConocoPhillips has come out in support of the US remaining part of the Paris Agreement.

But what are we to make of all of this? Do the actions of these oil giants match the big words put out by their chief executives when it comes to climate change? Has anything really changed since Paris?

Royal Dutch Shell

It feels like Shell is going through a bit of an identity crisis. On the one hand, it’s been pretty clear about the risk climate change poses to its business and the need to transition to renewable energy. But on the other hand, it sees this as a slow, decadal process and has a record of lobbying against climate action.

Last week headlines were made when Shell announced it was selling off most of its Canadian oil sands assets. Mixed in with this also was the news that it would now be tying 10 percent of its directors’ bonuses to how well they manage greenhouse gas emissions in their operations.

It also aims to invest $1 billion in renewable energy by the end of the decade.

But a look at the bigger picture shows that while these are steps in the right direction, they’re relatively small steps given Shell’s total annual spending comes to $25 billion.

And according to a recent article written by Shell’s climate advisor David Hone, the company has “no immediate plans to move to a net-zero emissions portfolio over our investment horizon of 10-20 years”.

That said, Shell appears to be somewhat ahead of the curve compared to other oil majors. Maybe it's making up for lost time, or perhaps it doesn't want to be left in the dust. Either way, it's not entirely burying its head in the sand. In its annual report last year for the year up to December 2015 it was the first company to recognize that policy action and legal risks due to rising climate change concerns are mounting. These same concerns are repeated in this year’s report.

However, this comes after the Guardian revealed that Shell knew of the impact fossil fuels would have on the climate as far back as 1991. In a film on temperature and sea level rise the oil giant accurately predicts what scientists now all agree on about climate change.

Yet, despite the company’s own data, it has spent decades investing in unconventional oil and gas projects. Projects which it has always known are incompatible with tackling climate change.

BP

Meanwhile, BP is facing significant pressure to boost production. Part of this effort means it continues to expand into more and more challenging projects in search of bigger returns. But it’s having some trouble.

After strong public opposition to its plans to drill in the pristine waters of the Great Australian Bight it pulled out of the deepwater venture. And now it’s planning a similarly controversial project: drilling for oil near a recently discovered coral reef off the coast of Brazil.

The company also isn’t performing as well as it would have hoped, with share prices currently sitting 30 percent lower than before its Deepwater Horizon disaster.  All of this has led to rumours of takeovers, with reports last week that Exxon was eyeing up the British oil giant.

And as it continues to lay off workers from its drilling operations on the North Sea, a DeSmog UK investigation shows BP has been working hard to boost its social license by putting BP-branded tutors in primary and secondary schools all across Aberdeen.

In the US, however, BP chief executive Bob Dudley seems encouraged by the change in winds that came with a new White House administration. Dudley recently said that the political situation meant business is much more open now, saying that the White House is “very interested” in BP, “more so than at any times in the last eight years”.

As BP continues to push into riskier projects – and riskier in all senses of the word, from its operations to the climate and the marine environment – it will be interesting to see what its annual report (yet to be published) makes of all of this. Last year’s simply recognizes the impact that complying with climate change regulations and laws may have on its profit margin.

Chevron

Compared to last year, Chevron’s come a long way. Whereas its chief executive John Watson boasted last year that the world will always need Big Oil this year it too has publicly recognized to its investors that climate change lawsuits can pose a risk to its profits.

In its annual report for the year up to December 2016 it states: “increasing attention to climate change risks has resulted in an increased possibility of governmental investigations and, potentially, private litigation against the company.”

But amidst growing demand from shareholders for corporate disclosure on climate risks, Chevron this month said in a quietly released report that a transition to lower-carbon energy sources would pose only a “minimal risk” to its operations because it’s investing in these options too. It then goes on to explain that oil and gas will remain the fundamental energy sources.

ExxonMobil

Like BP, Exxon fails to go beyond the impact of climate regulations on its profits. The company however continues to be in the spotlight, from investigations into its long history of funding climate denial to former chief executive Rex Tillerson becoming part of the new White House administration – the same Rex Tillerson who, as Exxon's chief, went by the alias 'Wayne Tracker' when emailing colleagues to discuss climate change.

Since Tillerson left the helm, Exxon has made some attempts to improve its climate credentials. The new chief executive Darren Woods publicly endorsed the Paris climate deal and just weeks after he took over from Tillerson, Susan Avery, a climate scientist, was appointed to the company’s board.

This comes after the company’s shareholders failed to do just that during Exxon’s annual general meeting last summer. During this meeting three other climate related initiatives were voted down including one to stress test the business to avoid 2C warming.

However, no major shift on strategy was announced during Woods' first speech on March 1 since being appointed to lead Exxon. Instead, investment priorities will continue to be in oil and gas.

The company also appears to be taking full advantage of the new US administration’s warm welcome to oil lobbyists as it pushes for weaker regulations on the oil and gas industry.

Photo: Drew Kolb via Flickr | CC 2.0

[block:block=109]

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 snowcover recedes from the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska each spring, thousands of Porcupine Caribou arrive to graze on new plant growth and calve the next generation of this herd that is the ecological and cultural backbone of the region.

Following ancient trails through the Brooks, Ogilvie and Richardson mountain ranges on both sides of the Alaska/Yukon border, the herd’s migratory path to this sanctuary is one of the longest of any land mammal.

Yet with a new President in power that promises to open hydrocarbon development in the Arctic, this iconic herd’s migratory way of life could be threatened.

The North’s great barren-ground caribou herds, a sub-species grouping to which the Porcupine belong, were recently listed as ‘threatened’ by the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada.

A combination of habitat loss, industrial development and climate change have provided a formidable challenge for the notoriously sensitive creatures.

While the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has confirmed 2016 as the warmest year on record for our planet, making it the third year in a row to re-write the record books, the arctic as a whole is warming twice as fast as the rest of the globe.

Dramatic changes are already evident across the north, with warming permafrost and earlier lake melts signaling not just a change in weather for places like the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, but an existential threat to a way of life that has existed for millennia.

Moving even faster than global or regional warming trends, a political step-change in Washington has also sent shockwaves that seem to bode ill for the environment.

Under the patriotic banner of energy security, Donald Trump campaigned on the promise of expanding domestic fossil fuel development.

We haven’t had to wonder long whether president Trump’s “America First Energy Plan” was just empty rhetoric.

Trump’s nominees to lead the Department of the Interior (Ryan Zinke), Department of Energy (Rick Perry) and the Environmental Protection Agency (Scott Pruitt) in particular served as early signals of a clear intention to de-regulate industry and expedite, or outright remove, environmental assessment and protection requirements tied to resource development.

Within days of taking office, the president has now signed executive orders advancing both Keystone XL and the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL), while simultaneously placing an expenditure and communications freeze on the EPA.

It may now be only a matter of time before renewed attention turns to the estimated 7.7 billion barrels of ‘technically recoverable’ crude oil laying under the arctic permafrost in a coastal plain area of the wildlife refuge known as the 1002 area.

Map of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge with the 1002 in orange. Source: United States Geological Survey

“The Alaskan congressional delegation has asked that the 1002 lands be opened to development. This would impact the Porcupine Caribou herd,” Yukon Conservation Society energy analyst Sebastian Jones told DeSmog Canada. This 1002 sub-area of the ANWR also happens to be the favoured calving grounds of the Porcupine Caribou herd, particularly when snowmelt occurs earlier.

“Calving grounds for these caribou herd are very, very important,” says Dr. Justina Ray, President and Senior Scientist of the Wildlife Conservation Society of Canada and Co-Chair of the Committee on the Status Endangered Wildlife in Canada, Terrestrial Mammal Species Subcommittee.

“This is the most vulnerable time of year for this animal. They come to these places habitually year after year, and drop their calves at a time that coincides with new plant growth, so it’s perfectly matched.”

“Those first six weeks of life for calves are critical,” Ray continues. “If you have disturbance in this area, whether it’s noise from exploration or infrastructure, that could increase mortality directly or indirectly because the nutrition of the females is disturbed or they don’t even calve.”

Thanks in part to one of former President Obama’s final acts of conservation — banning oil and gas drilling in the Arctic — Trump can’t single-handedly overturn the protections currently in place for the refuge.

For this, an act of congress plus two-thirds majority vote in the Senate would be required, something Jones feels Trump won’t be able to achieve, “unless something really weird happens.”

A mother caribou from the Porcupine Caribou Herd with her young calf. Photo: Peter Mather, used with permission.

He also feels carbon emission reductions of other nations “will start to reduce demand, likely before oil could flow.”

While the impacts of potential development in the 1002 area remain hypothetical for now, Trump’s denialist view of climate change may pose a more imminent threat.

“A Trump presidency looks to be much more climate reckless,” Jones says. “Caribou are among the species most vulnerable to climate change. If tundra disappears, times will get very tough for barren ground herds like the [Porcupine], and it appears we are already seeing climate effects across the north on caribou habitat.”

What makes the potential fallout from a Trump presidency on the Porcupine Caribou particularly critical, is the impact any dramatic drop in the herd would have for the Gwich’in people of Alaska and Yukon who have relied on caribou for their subsistence for over 20,000 years.

It is the resolve and relentless efforts of the Gwich’in and others that give Jones reason for hope about the potential consequences of a Trump presidency.

“Trump and his acolytes will motivate the conservation community and users of the Porcupine Caribou herd,” Jones says. “This has proven to be a formidable coalition that has defended far more focused and competent regimes.”

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 Donald Trump held his first news conference this month following his election as U.S. president, observers worldwide decried his shameless attack on the media and his critics.

In an onslaught against the press, Trump labelled CNN “terrible” and “fake news,” lambasted the digital-media powerhouse BuzzFeed as a “failing pile of garbage,” then turned his sights on the BBC, calling the news outlet, “another beauty,” and refusing to answer a reporter’s questions.

Could something similar ever happen in Canada? You bet it could.

In B.C., a slightly abridged version of Trump’s scorched-earth offensive against the media and his critics is already underway, led by BC Hydro, with disquieting consequences for the principles of freedom of expression and freedom of the press.

BC Hydro’s attacks on the media and critics centre on the $8.8-billion Site C dam, which the government has vowed to push past the “point of no return,” in the words of Premier Christy Clark, before voters head to the polls in May, even though there is compelling evidence that B.C. doesn’t need Site C’s electricity and Clark still searches for a buyer for the dam’s power.

The Premier’s Office and B.C. Energy Minister Bill Bennett have also been directly involved in the coordinated offensive, a strong indication of BC Hydro’s waning independence and waxing politicization.

From the New York Times and DeSmog Canada to Amnesty International and the Royal Society of Canada, BC Hydro’s reaction to critical Site C articles and reports has become increasingly inappropriate over the past eight months as the provincial election draws near and the Liberal party seeks a fifth term in office.

The reactions reached new fervour this month when BC Hydro issued a rant of a news release maligning a Times story on Site C, even going so far as to question the reporter’s personal motives. Bennett, saying the press release didn’t go nearly far enough, called the reporter “not fair” and “not professional.”

Bennett rails against the press calling a reporter “not fair” & “not professional” https://t.co/YDBvMcvvUu #bcpoli #cdnpoli #SiteC #bcelxn17 pic.twitter.com/gRFrRO2xpe

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) February 1, 2017

That followed other BC Hydro news releases questioning the content of an Amnesty report critical of Site C and the integrity of an unrelated statement from the Royal Society calling for an immediate halt to the dam, which the society said would cause more ecological damage than any project ever examined in the history of Canada’s environmental assessment act.

A Site C public opinion poll conducted by Insights West, according to a different BC Hydro press release, was “not likely to be an accurate reflection of public opinion,” while an article in Business in Vancouver was labelled as just plain “wrong.”

Even a Province opinion piece I wrote about Site C came under fire when BC Hydro issued a news release, containing text approved by Clark’s office, trying to discredit the piece, which questioned BC Hydro’s civil lawsuit against Peace Valley farmers and First Nations members who are trying to stop Site C, accusing them of serious charges such as “conspiracy” and seeking financial damages from them. Notably, the B.C. Civil Liberties Association calls the ongoing suit a matter of “grave concern” because of its potential to put a chill on freedom of expression.

For former BC Hydro CEO Marc Eliesen, who said Site C was a “white elephant” that would cause hydro bills in B.C., already scheduled for a 28-per-cent increase over five years, to climb to the point where they would be “devastating,” BC Hydro also recently brandished some Trump-style behaviour.

The Crown corporation suggested in its news release about The Times story that Eliesen, a highly respected professional who was also CEO of Ontario Hydro and the chairman of Manitoba Hydro, was 20 years out of date, while lambasting the newspaper for not including a quote from BC Hydro’s current CEO — an ironic quibble considering that BC Hydro, like Trump, cherry-picks which lines of inquiry it will respond to from reporters and which it pointedly chooses to ignore.

The Times reporter, after writing a second story, this one calling B.C. the “Wild West” of political cash, tweeted that B.C. is like a Banana Republic.

Banana Republic or Granola Republic, we all have a stake in these continuing attacks and should be concerned about our provincial government’s creeping Trump-style treatment of the media and Site C critics.

That rabbit hole south of the border should be a cautionary tale, not a subterranean destination for B.C.

Image: Worker camp construction for the Site C dam. Photo: Garth Lenz/DeSmog 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.

At a speech given to the Calgary Chamber of Commerce, Canada's Prime Minister Justin Trudeau said he intends to work with President-elect Donald Trump to approve the northern leg of TransCanada's Keystone XL pipeline. 

The speech comes as Trump revealed in a recent interview with Fox News that one of the first things he intends to do in office is grant permits for both Keystone XL and the perhaps equally controversial Dakota Access pipeline. Because Keystone XL North crosses the U.S.-Canada border, current processes require it to obtain a presidential permit from the U.S. Department of State, which the Obama administration has denied.

The next State Department, however, could be led by the recently retired CEO of ExxonMobil, Rex Tillerson, who was just nominated to be U.S. Secretary of State and soon will face a Senate hearing and vote. Potentially complicating this situation is the fact that Exxon holds substantial interest in both tar sands projects and companies, which stand to benefit from the Keystone XL pipeline bringing this carbon-intensive crude oil across the border.

Exxon, along with its subsidiary Imperial Oil, owns both the Kearl Oil Sands Project and Cold Lake tar sands production facilities, and a 25 percent stake in the tar sands production company Syncrude.

According to Bloomberg, Trump's team has shown interest in getting rid of the Executive Order which created the presidential permit process altogether, which President Barack Obama and Secretary of State John Kerry used in November 2015 to axe the pipeline. 

On the campaign trail and during his post-election "Victory Tour," Trump has pledged to rescind all of Obama's Executive Orders. Unsurprisingly, Tillerson has stated his support for Keystone XL, as well.

As reported in a recent investigation by InsideClimate News, nearly a third of Exxon's global reserves is situated in Alberta's tar sands, an oil patch which covers about 55,000 square miles, or roughly the size of New York state. Alberta's tar sands represent the third largest oil reserves on the planet.

Image Credit: InsideClimate News

Processing and producing tar sands crude emits roughly 17 percent more carbon into the atmosphere than conventional crude oil, according to State Department figures cited by InsideClimate News. Exxon's website says that by 2040 the company will provide a quarter of the oil for the Americas via the tar sands.

It remains unclear what Tillerson will do pertaining to the 1.7 million shares of Exxon stock which will be deferred to him — "unvested," in corporate lingo — over the next decade or so. Some industry experts have called for him to either receive his stock payments immediately or divest completely in order to avoid the associated conflict of interest as Secretary of State.

"Keystone XL Clone"

Keystone XL North links Alberta's massive tar sands reserves to the oil hub mecca of Cushing, Oklahoma. From there, it connects with the southern leg of Keystone XL — now known as the Gulf Coast Pipeline — which carries the diluted bitumen (or "dilbit," the result of tar sands oil being mixed with lighter petroleum products to allow it to flow more easily) to Gulf coast refinery markets. 

Trudeau also recently gave a permit to the oil company Enbridge for its Line 3 Pipeline, which likewise crosses the U.S.-Canada border. That line to the Great Lakes connects to what DeSmog has called the broader "Keystone XL Clone" pipeline system, which like the Keystone Pipeline System, links Alberta's tar sands to Gulf Coast refinery markets. 

The southernmost piece of this Keystone XL Clone system, the Seaway Pipeline, which runs from Cushing to Gulf Coast refineries, had a spill in late October.

"Bring It On"

Even with the deck now stacked against those who have spent years fighting against Keystone XL, at least one environmental group responded with a simple message: "Bring it on."

"Keystone XL would imperil countless communities as well as our climate, and President Obama was absolutely right in finally rejecting it last year," Oil Change International's David Turnbull told the publication Common Dreams. "The movement to stop Keystone is one of the most inspiring and powerful collections of landowners, ranchers, Native Americans, and concerned citizens all across the county that we've ever seen. If Trump tries [to] undo President Obama's wise decision, this movement won't be standing idly by. In other words: Bring it on."

Photo Credit: Wikimedia Commons

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 Sarah Boon from Watershed Moments.

In the days following the U.S. election, two former Canadian ambassadors to the U.S. had some advice for Canadians worried about the future of Canada-U.S. relations.

“Calm down,” they said. “Change the channel and watch some hockey.”

This paternalistic statement not only played on the worn cultural stereotype that all Canadians like hockey, but it suggested that a ‘head in the sand,’ ‘everything will be fine’ mentality was a good way to deal with Trump.

In truth, Canadians have every reason to worry.

Let’s start with the ambassador’s original concern: Canada-U.S. relations. While they argued that nothing will change, that’s highly unlikely. Trump’s policies don’t really jive with Trudeau’s. For example, if Trump goes ahead with his anti-climate change stance, Canada’s government will have to rethink their climate strategy or risk the perception of falling behind economically relative to a country with minimal climate change regulations. Other potential issues include NAFTA, our defence alliances, the Paris climate agreement, and the proposed Keystone XL pipeline.

Another consideration is whether Trump-style politics will cross the border. Well it’s clear that’s already happened. Kellie Leitch is one of the candidates running for the leadership of the Conservative Party of Canada (CPC). Shortly after Trump was declared the victor, Leitch sent out a flyer saying that Trump’s win was “an exciting message that needs to be delivered in Canada as well.”

Leitch was also a supporter of the ‘Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline’ that popped up during our last election as a cornerstone of CPC policy. Basically a way to tattle on your neighbours for being brown. In the current CPC leadership race, Leitch has proposed screening immigrants for anti-Canadian values. What might those be? Liking soccer instead of hockey? Frequenting Starbucks instead of Tim Horton’s?

More recently, Leitch has called for dismantling the CBC to “create more competition in the media market.”

Seriously? Does she not realize that the TV market has been concentrated into just a few outlets — as of 2013? Has she not followed the news about the concentration of newspaper outlets last year? Is she not aware that the CBC is one of the few remaining (sort of) independent media outlets?

In case you think her ideas are too right of mainstream, think again. Leitch leads the CPC leadership campaign in terms of total funds raised, and donations to her campaign increased following her proposal of screening for anti-Canadian values.

While the former Canadian ambassadors focused on Trump and Canada-U.S. relations, they should have also considered the impacts of a Trump presidency on Canadian society. Racist attacks have increased in Canada since the election, including swastikas painted on Muslim and Jewish religious centres, and Muslim individuals experiencing harassment.

Following the election, some media outlets are painting Canada as the tolerant and progressive cousin to an America that’s gone off the rails. 

Instead of keeping calm, watching hockey, and basking in the compliments, however, we need to confront the fact that we’re not as tolerant and progressive as we like to think we are.

Canada Isn't Immune to Trump-ism https://t.co/xi2kxyaZ9D #cdnpoli @SnowHydro

— DeSmog Canada (@DeSmogCanada) December 6, 2016

I’ve just finished reading Thomas King’s The Inconvenient Indian and Wab Kinew’s The Reason You Walk. Pair these with Candace Savage’s A Geography of Blood (and many, many more books on the topic), and you’ll begin to understand one aspect of the race problem in Canada. For example, it took an election to get the government to pay attention to missing and murdered indigenous women (MMIW), and the current government is stalling on adopting the UN Declaration for the Rights of Indigenous People (UNDRIP) into law.

We also seem to have a problem with women. In Alberta, Sandra Jansen, a candidate for leader of the Alberta Conservative Party, crossed the floor to the NDP, citing “bullying, extreme views, and intolerance” as her reasons for abandoning the Conservatives.

The leader of Alberta’s NDP, Rachel Notley, is no stranger to these types of attacks — she (and other women in her party) has been attacked repeatedly merely for being women in politics.

Then there’s our environmental record. Trudeau has approved an LNG plant in Squamish and another in Prince Rupert. The latter is particularly contentious given the potential impacts on salmon in the region. Trudeau has also approved permits for B.C.’s Site C hydropower development. All of these projects negatively impact indigenous communities and have serious environmental implications, but are being approved nonetheless.

It’s no surprise, then, that over 1300 early career Canadian scientists wrote a letter to Trudeau asking him to apply more transparency and rigour to the environmental assessment process. And when it comes to our progress on tackling climate change, the Dialogues on Sustainability group based out of McGill University notes that the approval of the LNG projects outlined above will make it difficult to reach our emissions targets.

Finally, there are those who think we have some wisdom to impart to Americans about how to deal with an anti-science government. While it’s true that we learned a lot about how to organize and fight for science during Harper’s War on Science, we remain far behind the U.S. in several crucial ways. First of all, the U.S. has the Union of Concerned Scientists, which has advocated publicly for science since 1969.

Here in Canada we have Evidence For Democracy, which is doing excellent work but has only been around since 2012. In the U.S., scientific societies publicly advocate for science funding, as they did last year when the House Science Committee threatened earth science funding. Here in Canada, scientific societies are noticeably absent from the debate about science and science-based policy.

The U.S. also has a President’s Science Advisor, who directs the Office of Science and Technology Policy. Here in Canada, Harper abolished the office of the Science Advisor after it had only been in place for four years. We’re still waiting for word from the Trudeau government as to whom they’ll appoint as the new Chief Science Officer.

The Americans have fought for science before, under the George W. Bush administration (particularly climate science). While the current fight won’t be the same — and could be a lot tougher — they’re prepared. Much more so than Canadian scientists are.

Given just these few examples of how we treat indigenous peoples, women, and the environment, and the state of science nationally, Canada can’t get too smug about being a better version of our neighbours to the south. Although we don’t have the same level of income inequality as we see in the U.S. (thanks Alexis Morgan for pointing this out), we can’t assume that Trump-style politics won’t gain a foothold here.

Instead of watching some hockey and burying our heads in the sand, we need to stay aware, and commit ourselves to ensuring that we not only fail to buy into the racist, misogynist, and anti-science politics from south of the border, but that we actually improve things here at home.

Sarah Boon was an environmental science professor for seven years before returning to writing. Her articles about academic culture, women in science, and the environment have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Outpost, BC Forest Professional, iPolitics, Canadian Science Publishing, the Nature Conservancy of Canada, Hakai Magazine, CBC’s The Nature of Things, Terrain.org, and Science Contours. Sarah is a co-founder and serves on the Board of Science Borealis, where she was formerly the Editorial Manager (2013-2015) and Earth & Environmental Science Editor (2013-2016). Find her at Watershed Moments or on Twitter: @SnowHydro.

Image: Kellie Leitch via kellieleitch.ca

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.