With apologies to Max, the central character in Maurice Sendak’s 1963 classic Where The Wild Things Are, and his arduous journey “in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room”, Alice the Moose puts his to shame. Alice left her home park in the Adirondacks in upstate New York, swam across the St. Lawrence river, somehow made it across the four-lane 401 highway and finally completed her 570 km-long journey by arriving in Ontario’s Algonquin Park. Talk about a wild trip!

Alice was just doing what comes naturally – migrating with the seasons, in search of safer grounds and more plentiful sources of nourishment. And not just Alice. Lots of other animals. Thousands of different species of animals in every glorious manifestation have been migrating through what’s now known as the ‘Algonquin to Adirondacks’  region (A2A) for thousands if not millions of years. We humans joined the pilgrimage for our own survival, dodging the worst of winter’s wrath and following our meal-tickets as they embarked on their own migrations.

Turns out, there’s an interconnected network of trails and wildways stretching up the east cost of North America. You – or an Alice – could travel from Everglades National Park through Georgia’s Smoky Mountains, up the Appalachians, through the Adirondacks, across the Frontenac Arch and the St. Lawrence river and on into Algonquin Park. And there’s an organization that has charted these wildways, the species (and their movements) and the threats to biodiversity, particularly the numerous species-at-risk.

In October 2019, Wildlands Network released an interactive map of the Eastern Wildway, representing a major step forward in realizing a vision of connectivity for this region:

In their own words:

The Eastern Wildway contains some of North America’s most beloved national parks, preserves, scenic rivers, and other wild places, from the wilderness of Quebec, the Adirondacks, and the Shenandoah Valley, to the Great Smoky Mountains and Everglades National Park. Protecting and expanding these and other key core areas is crucial to rewilding the East.

I like the idea of rewilding. Of our spaces and our souls. Allowing our footfalls to provide the syncopation as we walk away our worries, lost-to-be-found in nature. And allowing nature to reclaim, to repossess, what we humans have taken from them, the birds, the bees, the flowers and the trees.

I was thinking about Alice recently when I came across a tragic story about a deer. This deer had managed to swim to Prince Edward Island – akin to Marilyn Bell swimming across Lake Ontario – only to be hit and killed by a transport truck not long after its arrival on the island. Alice had somehow survived an ordeal similar to our dearly-departed deer friend in PEI. And in Alice’s case, she was crossing one of the busiest highways in North America, the 401/TransCanada. At the point where Alice dodged death, the 401 is four lanes wide and busy almost 24 hours a day. This was Alice’s reality and the reality faced by every other ground-based species that migrates through the A2A region. The animals are simply following deep programming, genetic memories of migrations from hundreds of generations. The pathways are ancient. Highways are the interlopers, the recent development that benefits one species to the detriment of all others.

There are solutions. They go by a variety off names – wildlife overpasses, animal bridges, wildlife crossings – but I like to think of them as a modern iteration on an ancient tale. In the biblical story of Noah and his Ark, human wickedness required global cleansing, as the Almighty prepared to wash the sins of humans away through the medium of an unprecedented flood. But recognizing that the animals did not cause the wickedness and therefore should be saved, Noah was instructed by the Big Boss to construct a gigantic ark, a boat, that could hold a pair of each species. This would allow the animals to repopulate the world after the forty days of ‘cleansing’.

In our modern times, humanity constructs transportation monuments that seem built to demand animal sacrifice. But when we build a bridge – a Noah’s Arch – that allows wildlife to cross our highway infrastructures, we fulfill an obligation to right a wrong.

The A2A Collaborative’s Road Ecology project is aiming “to help reduce wildlife road mortality across the entire Algonquin to Adirondacks region by making recommendations on the best possible locations for wildlife crossings.” There are strong financial reasons to support these public works projects that buttress the moral reasons. In Alberta’s Bow Valley, a study found that “from 1998 and 2010 (there) was…an average of 62 WVCs (wildlife-vehicle collisions) per year. This amounts to an average cost-to-society of $640,922 per year due to motorist crashes with large wildlife, primarily ungulates.”

An “analysis of a wildlife underpass with fencing at a 3 km section… within the project area near Dead Man’s Flats showed that total WVCs dropped from an annual average of 11.8 per-construction to an annual average of 2.5 WVCs post-mitigation construction. The wildlife crossings and fencing reduced the annual average cost by over 90%, from an average of $128,337 per year to a resulting $17,564 average per year.”

The judicious construction of wildlife crossings saves lives and saves money. And it makes our wildways that much more alive with wildlife. It’s time for us humans to do our part and prioritize wildlife crossings on our major highways and roadways.

Alice would thank you.

The post WHERE THE WILDWAYS ARE appeared first on A\J.

Maybe it was the way Canada kept insisting that their good intentions were enough to excuse abuse and neglect. Or how, though they kept saying “sorry”, they couldn’t help but take up all the space, ‘flagspreading’ their way to occupy 98% of the sofa without once handing over the remote. Tired of watching Beachcombers re-runs and being gaslit over wounds ancient and fresh, Indigenous Peoples negotiated, accommodated and — finally — litigated. 

So it’s no big surprise that Canada’s legal systems tend to borrow from family law when it comes to repairing relationships. From the issuance of Advance Costs to fund litigation, all the way down to the idea of reconciliation itself, instruments developed to settle disputes between quarrelling parties have been adapted to address this country’s most fundamental fallout. 

Let’s look at just one case: colloquially known as the Defend the Treaties trial, Anderson v Alberta was launched in 2008 by Beaver Lake Cree Nation(BLCN). Located 200 km north of Edmonton in the heart of what was once Alberta’s boreal forest, BLCN was faced with the explosive expansion of oil and gas projects in their territory. As a result, the community was finding it increasingly impossible to get out on the land to hunt, fish, and collect berries and medicines. Without these activities, it was growing difficult for families to make ends meet, and to pass on cultural knowledge from elders to parents, and from parents to children. 

Imagine if every time you set out to check on your traplines, you discovered another road, another well, another tailings pond. What you once knew as a sinuous landscape layered with lineages of your ancestral ecosystem knowledge has become a maze of dead-ends and no-go zones. Imagine if the rare caribou or moose you did encounter was inedible, the meat poisoned after the animal licked at the salty-tasting bitumen that seeps to the bog’s surface because of in situ oil sands extraction. 

For the small Indigenous Nation, the writing was on the wall: go to court, or lose everything at the heart of what it means to be Beaver Lake Cree.  

The Ecological Promise at the Heart of Canada’s Treaties

“A truly exceptional matter of public interest.” 

That’s how Canada’s Supreme Court described Beaver Lake Cree Nation’s legal challenge. At its core, the case involves a tiny Nation standing up to Canada and Alberta to demand that the protections assured in Treaty 6 be upheld. The treaty, signed in 1876, spells it out in black and white: Indigenous rights to hunt, fish, and practice cultural activities on their territory are enshrined in perpetuity in one of the country’s oldest contracts. 

The treaty protects not just reserve land, but access to vast tracts of boreal forest that Beaver Lake Cree have been sustained by, and have stewarded, for thousands of years. 

The Defend the Treaties case emphasises that it’s the cumulative impacts of industry on treaty rights that is at issue. A win would force regulators to evaluate new project applications not piecemeal, as is currently the practice, but according to how any well, mine, or pipeline fit into the overall picture affecting the availability, health and productivity of hunting and fishing grounds. 

When the case was filed, environmentalists took notice. A scrappy start-up organisation called RAVEN (Respecting Aboriginal Values and Environmental Needs) took on fundraising for the case. “We felt like it shouldn’t be up to First Nations to bear the huge cost of holding industry to account,” says RAVEN’s founding Executive Director Susan Smitten. “It’s not fair to rely on the poorest people in what is now called Canada to stand alone and be the voice of reason in this effort. They have the power of their treaties to protect the planet, and we have the power of a nation to support them.” 

Together with Chief Al Lameman, for whom the Defend the Treaties case was initially named, Smitten first stewarded funds from the Cooperative Bank of the UK, whose members invested, recognizing the strategic importance of BLCN’s challenge in halting the devastating impacts of tar sands extraction. Since then, RAVEN has raised more than $2 million dollars to cover a portion of BLCN’s hefty legal bills. 

For the governments of Canada and Alberta, Beaver Lake Cree’s ambitious challenge was a dire portent of a future where oil was no longer king. They knew that adopting a holistic view of project impacts would slow down the gold-rush frenzy that fuels the race to develop Alberta’s tar sands and get at vast deposits of bitumen and natural gas.  

Besides the fact that Alberta is sitting on the largest deposit of crude oil on the planet is the irrevocable climate reality that if we extract and burn it, we’ll assure the extinction of a million species: including, if we really blow it, ourselves. 

The whole industry is built on the pressure of short-term imperatives. Especially in the years since the Copenhagen and Paris climate agreements, the race has been on to squeeze as much profit out of the tar sands as possible before serious emissions controls come along to curtail development and ultimately make their product obsolete. If industry continues at its rampant pace, there just won’t be any caribou left for Beaver Lake Cree Nation members to hunt – that would turn the conversation from one about conservation of precious resources into one about compensation for irrevocable losses. 

The challenge for Beaver Lake Cree is simple and urgent: if tar sands development continues to expand in their territories, BLCN’s treaty won’t be worth the parchment that it’s written on. 

Court to First Nations: How broke are you? 

After a decade of fighting motions to strike and appeals, the Nation has won the right to have its case heard in court: the trial is set for 2024. Beaver Lake Cree are also making the case for why the government should advance them the money needed to pay for it. 

12 long years after filing the Defend the Treaties challenge, Beaver Lake Cree Nation was exhausted and flat out of funds. So, in 2018, Chief Germaine Anderson applied for what are known as Advance Costs. 

Let’s just go back to the family law analogy. When a married couple who disagree are seeking a divorce, if the husband holds all the financial cards, it puts the wife at an unfair disadvantage. He can finagle the house, the car, and even the kids if she is reduced to relying on legal aid or forced to go under-represented. To avoid that kind of scenario, the courts developed an instrument so that the richer party would be ordered to advance a set amount to the more ‘impecunious’ party, allowing them to afford a decent lawyer. Though they are sometimes called ‘awards’, Advance Costs are not grants but rather are a tool to level the playing field so that both parties are on more equal footing. 

To receive Advance Costs, the less wealthy party has to turn out their pockets in front of the court and prove just how broke they are. 

That’s exactly what Beaver Lake Cree Nation did. It really should come as no surprise that a rural Indigenous Nation — struggling to cope with outdated infrastructure, substandard housing and a shabby education budget — might not be able to sustain million-dollar litigation. But the Nation had to argue for the necessity of, for example, paying for the delivery of clean drinking water to community members ahead of spending that money on litigation. 

Having gone through the patronising process of being nickel and dimed by the government, the Nation managed to prove their ‘impecuniousness’ and in 2019 BLCN was awarded Advance Costs. Had that lower court ruling stood, it would have required Alberta, Canada and BLCN to share the costs of litigation to the tune of $300k each, annually, for the duration of the trial. 

In keeping with tactics the powers that be had been deploying all along, the award decision was appealed and overturned. With their very existence as a people at stake, fiercely committed to seeing justice done, BLCN took their Advance Costs fight to the Supreme Court of Canada. 

A milestone for Indigenous justice

After months of nail-biting, in March 2022 Beaver Lake Cree Nation received a unanimous Supreme Court Decision that will echo down the years as a landmark ruling on Indigenous access to justice. In a 9-0 decision, the Supreme Court of Canada overturned Alberta’s removal of Beaver Lake Cree’s Advanced Cost order.

The Supreme Court recognized that in an era defined by reconciliation and respecting Indigenous self-determination — to take care of pressing community needs first, before spending on court costs — must come first.

While the SCC ruling requires Beaver Lake Cree Nation to go back to the trial judge for a deep dive into BLCN’s financial situation and how it meets the fine-print criteria of “pressing needs” set out by the court, their appeal is a huge win for access to justice. 

It is also a big win for RAVEN. 

“It’s not every day we watch the needle move to advance the law in favour of Indigenous rights,” says Smitten. “We’re really proud to be part of this, and humbled by the never-flagging determination of BLCN’s leadership.”

All’s fair in love and litigation

Advance costs are actually extraordinarily rare, as they require that applicants pass a series of legal tests. Anderson v. Alberta clarified what those tests will be going forward. One thing that has not changed is that Advance Costs are only available for cases that are considered to be in the public interest. The court determined that there is a strong public interest in obtaining a ruling on the claims brought forward by Beaver Lake Cree Nation in its Defend the Treaties challenge. That alone may seem obvious — tar sands expansion affects us all, and Albertans, Indigenous and settler alike, have treaty obligations that should matter to everyone. 

But the court went further. Recognizing that we are in a new era where self-determination and reconciliation confer upon First Nations the right to allocate spending as they see fit, the Supreme Court affirmed that Indigenous governments — not courts — are best suited to set their own priorities and identify the needs of their communities. 

The Court also found that when a government has used delay and outspend tactics — bloating the costs of, and timeline for, urgent legal action — the court should ‘exercise its discretion’ in awarding Advance Costs. From now on, the fact that a First Nation might choose to allocate its limited funds to address the needs of its community – including for cultural survival and to fund basic services that most other Canadians take for granted – should not be used as a basis to disqualify the First Nation from advance costs for litigation to protect its Section 35 rights. 

Back to our family law metaphor: the court’s new ruling means that the person in charge of the household and children will be able to determine their own priorities and needs ahead of what some judge decides is ‘best for them’. This ruling takes some of the paternalism out of the Advance Cost process and opens the door for Nations to meet government and industry on a more level playing field. 

The Supreme Court also awarded solicitor-client costs to Beaver Lake Cree Nation for all three levels of court hearings related to the Advance Cost application and appeal. Now that Canada and Alberta have to pay BLCN back for what the Nation spent on the Advance Costs process, BLCN can immediately use these funds to gather evidence, elder testimony, and prepare arguments for what could be one of the most monumental legal challenges Canada has ever seen. 

An ambiguous win

BLCN’s victory was a major milestone in the Nation’s decades-long process to push back against the cumulative impacts of industrial development in their territory. But you’d never know what a big win they scored from reading mainstream media coverage. 

Most outlets failed to recognize the groundbreaking nature of the SCC ruling. Headlines reported both that the Nation had won, and that they had lost. Partly, that’s because the Nation was sent back to the lower court in Alberta for a rehearing on Advance Costs, this time using the new test set out by the Supreme Court. But under those conditions, the Nation not only qualifies: they literally set the standard. The opportunity to go back to the court to adjudicate the award amount and terms under these new Supreme Court criteria may result in an even larger sum being awarded to the Nation. 

Karey Brooks, lawyer for Beaver Lake Cree Nation, is unequivocal. “The Supreme Court of Canada ruling is a huge win for access to justice.” 

She explains that the Court recognized Indigenous self-determination when it emphasised that a Nation’s pressing needs must be understood within the broader context from which a First Nation government makes decisions.

“I think it’s a huge win in that respect.” 

Fair’s Fair: Enshrining Access to Justice into Law

Going before the courts – for both advancing the original claim to trial and to achieve Advance Costs — Beaver Lake Cree Nation has been validated, and their right not only to pursue their case but to receive support, fully affirmed.

“The greatest barrier to justice – and victory for this court challenge – is the high cost of the legal system,” says RAVEN’s Susan Smitten. “How fantastic that a small group of dedicated donors was able to shore up this challenge to fund a trial that could stagger the tar sands behemoth. Also: how spooky to think how many worthy cases have faltered due to lack of resources.”

The implications of this judgement are nation-wide and capture in law the sovereignty of a Nation’s decision-making. Judges will now be able to take into account systemic factors such as the history of colonialism, displacement, and residential schools and how that history continues to operate today. 

Thanks to Beaver Lake Cree Nation, Indigenous Peoples will no longer, as a judge in Alberta’s Court of Queen’s Bench put it, have to “stand naked before the court.”

No matter how the lower court chooses to award Advance Costs, Beaver Lake Cree will still be on the hook for hundreds of thousands of dollars a year for the duration of the trial, which could last several years. No matter how the court rules: RAVEN will be there. 

“When we join forces as Indigenous Peoples and settlers, we can move mountains – and create better laws” Susan Smitten, Executive Director, RAVEN

This story was generously funded through support from Metcalfe Foundation.

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The post Mediating a Marriage on the Rocks: Anderson v. Alberta appeared first on A\J.

A ‘just transition’ is defined as ‘a vision-led, unifying and place-based set of principles, processes, and practices that build economic and political power to shift from an extractive economy to a regenerative economy’ by the Climate Justice Alliance. Just transitions take a holistic view of where we are going, as well as how we get there. When thinking of a just transition towards green energy, one of the groups that will be disproportionately affected is Indigenous communities. This is a direct result of a disproportionate dependency on fossil fuels to fuel both energy needs and daily life requirements. Additionally, these communities are also likely to experience the effects of climate change much more than others due to these changes impacting many aspects of their lives. Some of these changes can include loss of land and resources, extreme weather events impacting agriculture, future supply chain issues, and more. As a result of this, it is of paramount importance that for these indigenous communities, we ensure the transition to green energy is a just one.

This is where Melina Laboucan-Massimo saw an opportunity to make a difference. Laboucan-Massimo is Lubicon Cree, from the community of Little Buffalo, located in Alberta, Canada. Little Buffalo is an oil sands region, and as a result, Laboucan-Massimo grew up witnessing firsthand the negative impacts that oil sand development has had on the environment, as well as the development of her Indigenous community. To put into perspective how little the oil sands have done for Indigenous communities, Laboucan-Massimo states in this article with the Nobel Women’s Initiative that since 1978 over $14 billion had been made off of her family’s traditional territory, yet they still don’t have running water. She goes on to say that the more than 2600 oil wells on the land make it impossible to live sustainably, to make matters worse, almost 70% of Lubicon territory has been leased for future development without the consent of the Lubicon people, directly violating their charter rights.

Laboucan-Massimo has been attending protests about this matter since 1988, at the tender age of 7 years old. This first protest was in her Lubicron Cree community of Little Buffalo which held a 6-day protest against oil and gas drilling on their land. While her parents and grandparents were part of the blockade, Laboucan-Massimo watched from the safety of their car, with this experience having a profound impact on her. This protest in 1988 was a whole 34 years ago, yet oil and gas drilling continues on this land, much to its detriment. If the community of Little Buffalo sounds familiar, then you were probably paying attention to the news in 2011. This is because in 2011 the Rainbow Pipeline spill occurred on this land, causing a total of 28,000 barrels of oil to be spilled – the largest oil spill in Alberta in three decades. This spill is still impacting the community to this day, and those responsible for it, Plains Midstream, were only fined a measly $1.3 million two years after the spill. Were those funds used to clean up the area or were they enough to cover the costs of those cleanup efforts? No and no. After this spill, Laboucan-Massimo felt even more inspired to take action, saying in an interview with Mongabay, “Wow, I need to really start building: What does transition technology look like? What does a just transition look like in our communities? That’s why I founded Sacred Earth Solar, which began with my Master’s thesis…”

The creation and inspiration behind Sacred Earth Solar are why I find Laboucan-Massimo to be so inspiring personally. Sacred Earth Solar was born out of their Master’s degree thesis in Indigenous Governance, with a focus on energy which was completed at the University of Victoria. As part of her thesis, Laboucan-Massimo proposed building a solar-powered center in her hometown of Little Buffalo, in order to ensure just transition to green energy. This proposal was not without resistance, with Laboucan-Massimo recalling in an interview with Fashion Magazine, “One of my professors actually tried to dissuade me from doing it—he said ‘It’s too big of an undertaking, you’re not going to finish in time.’” Despite these concerns, Laboucan-Massimo decided to go ahead with the project due to her determination of creating a just transition for her community, as well as wanting to inspire others to do so. This was completed in 2015 and since then, the project has provided power to the community’s health center. This project, now known as the Piitapan Solar Project, involved the installation of 80 solar panels resulting in a 20.8kW renewable energy project – not only does this provide green energy, but also creates jobs in the community, and provides a template for other communities to follow. How inspiring is that? Despite even professors voicing their concerns, and having no experience directly in that field, Laboucan-Massimo followed through on her mission of creating a more sustainable future for her community.

After the establishment of this solar project, Laboucan-Massimo created the aforementioned Sacred Earth Solar. Sacred Earth Solar has now branched out to create projects outside of the Piitapan Solar Project in Little Buffalo. In all of its work, Sacred Earth Solar ensures that a just transition, as defined earlier in this article, can take place. According to their website, Sacred Earth Solar currently assists Indigenous communities in exploring renewable energy within the broader context of antiracist climate work, ensuring that these communities are given priority in keeping their communities safe and healthy. A just transition is one that Laboucan-Massimo is very passionate about, and in addition to setting up Sacred Earth Solar, also sits as the Senior Director of Just Transition at Indigenous Climate Action, an organization that aims to integrate Indigenous rights and knowledge into developing solutions for the climate crisis. Other initiatives by Sacred Earth Solar, and as a result Laboucan-Massimo, include the solarization of the art studio at Nimkii Aazhibikong with Onaman Collective in partnership with Indigenous Climate Action, which will serve as a centre for the language revitalization, transmission of indigenous knowledge, and communal space for Anishinaabek and surrounding Indigenous communities to have a communal space to share teachings. Another initiative included sending several sets of solar panels to Indigenous youth who were protesting at Ada’itsx/Fairy Creek. These solar panels were used to power the kitchen and charge devices so that they could have communication, but also record the police brutality that was on display. Laboucan-Massimo in addition to sending these panels also joined Indigenous leaders, environmental activists, and other celebrities in the condemnation of the logging at Ada’itsx/Fairy Creek. Sacred Earth Solar has continued to provide green energy for those fighting for climate justice by solarizing three homes at the Gidimt’en checkpoint in Wet’suwet’en Territory. This was done so that families could have access to their territory as the Gidimt’en checkpoint is directly in the path of the proposed Coastal Gas Link pipeline. Additionally, Sacred Earth Solar has been creating tiny homes that run off of solar energy to assist those protesting the Trans Mountain pipeline. These tiny homes are set up directly in the path of the pipeline, acting as both an act of resistance, but also a symbol of how green energy can be used for a just transition.

As you can see, Laboucan-Massimo’s Master’s thesis has grown a movement towards a just transition outside of her home community of Little Buffalo. Sacred Earth Solar may, in my opinion, be one of her most notable initiatives, however, Laboucan-Massimo has done much more than this. In addition to being the Director of Just Transition at Indigenous Climate Action, she was appointed as the first Indigenous research fellow at the David Suzuki Foundation where she has continued her research on Climate Change, Indigenous Knowledge, and Renewable Energy. In order to disseminate the message around green energy in Indigenous communities, Laboucan-Massimo created the Power to the People series. This series takes a look at the renewable energy revolution in Indigenous communities around Canada and the world, showcasing how a just transition may occur. This series found many different projects from wind farms, to solar plants, to tidal electric projects, and serves as a showcase for how other communities may become self-sufficient. Laboucan-Massimo has also worked alongside icons such as Jane Fonda, David Suzuki, and Naomi Klein to help build a better future for not only Indigenous people but the planet. She has also given many speeches which have inspired many, some of these including US Congress, the Harvard Law Forum, in British Parliament, and numerous international organizations like Amnesty International, allowing for her message of equitable climate justice to be heard around the world.

If you did a thesis, I implore you to think back to it. I can remember the thesis I completed in my undergraduate degree very well. Now, prior to this, have you thought about your thesis since completing it? Furthermore, has your thesis been of use? For some of you I’m sure that answer is yes, but for others like myself, not so much. It is of such great inspiration that Laboucan-Massimo took an issue that was so dear to her, and despite resistance from even her own professors, turned this thesis into a project that has since spiraled outwards, creating a movement. It is a great message of being the change you want to see, no matter how big the mountain you must climb is. Laboucan-Massimo could have stopped there, feeling that by improving her community she has done enough, but instead she has since campaigned to create a just transition to green energy for Indigenous people and communities around the world, and also acts as an example of how the entire world must act. It is for these reasons that Melina Laboucan-Massimo is an Every Day Eco-Hero.

The post Every Day Eco-Heroes: Melina Laboucan-Massimo appeared first on A\J.

The first activist we would like to shine a spotlight on is someone a few of you may already know, but who deserves to be recognised by all in Canada, as well as globally. This person is Autumn Peltier. Peltier is from the Wiikwemkoong First Nation on Manitoulin Island, Ontario. Being born and raised here, Peltier was surrounded by the largest group of freshwater lakes in the world. Growing up in such an environment allowed her to understand the importance of freshwater and why we must protect it. When she was just eight years old, Peltier attended a ceremony at Serpent River First Nation in Ontario with her mother. It was at Serpent River that Peltier first noticed signs warning of ‘toxic’ drinking water. Water contamination on reserves has been an issue for years at this point, and one that the government, despite making promises, still have not been able to address. In an interview from 2019 with Women of Influence she recounts her mother explaining that for over ten years this community has had a boiled-water advisory, and the shock that made her feel. In an interview with Maclean’s, Peltier says that this ceremony was an eye opener for the work that she does.

Peltier also drew inspiration from her Aunt Josephine Mandamin, stating in the 2021 interview with Macleans that prior to her passing, Josephine asked that she continue with her work. “Carrying on her legacy is one of the most important things to me,” stated Peltier. Josephine Mandamin, also known as “Water Walker” was a founding member of the water protectors movement, a founder of the Mother Earth Water Walkers, and Anishinabek Nation Chief Water Commissioner. It is through Mandamin as well as her mother that Peltier was inspired to take action, saying “I advocate for water because we all came from water and water is literally the only reason we are here today and living on this earth.” In her interview with Macleans in 2021, Peltier was asked what the best piece of advice she had received from Mandamin, stating it was just before she passed when she said, “‘People are going to try to stop you, but you just have to keep on doing the work and keep on loving the water.’ And she was right. It was her saying that that helped me realize that I can’t let people get to me.” With such influential people surrounding her from her youth, it is apparent why she has been so inspired, as well as commendable for continuing on their legacy. 

(PHOTO: IREVAPHOTOGRAPHY LINDA ROY OF WIIKWEMKOONG UNCEDED FIRST NATION, MANITOULIN ISLAND ONTARIO, source: FashionMagazine.com)

Due to the influence of her Aunt Josephine and mother, Peltier has been an activist from young, which I find to be greatly inspiring personally. Can you remember what you were doing at age 12? The first instance in which Peltier was thrust into the spotlight was in 2016, at the age of 12, and a moment which I’m sure a few of you remember. This was at the annual winter meeting of the Assembly of First Nations where at such a young age, she showed more courage than most grown adults, directly criticizing Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to his face, saying “I am very unhappy with the choices you’ve made,” to which Trudeau responded “I understand that. I will protect the water.” In her 2021 interview with Macleans, Peltier addresses this moment and the action that has been taken by the Prime Minister since. In this interview she states that the moment was not planned, and that she had actually been told not to say anything to the Prime Minister, as she states however, not many people are given the opportunity to share their thoughts with him, and she had to take that opportunity. Since then, the Trudeau government promised to end all water boil advisories across Canada by March, 2021 – a promise that was not met. In response to this, Peltier said “To promise to resolve a big issue like that within a certain amount of time and [not do it], and there are still communities that can’t drink their water after over 25 years, how are we supposed to trust the government? How are we supposed to believe him? I feel he pretends to care.” When asked what Trudeau could do to regain this trust she responded by saying rather than making empty promises or simply speaking on the issue, that action is actually taken. As you can see, sadly much hasn’t changed in government since then, but neither has Peltier’s persistence and determination to enact these changes. 

Since 2016, much has changed for Autumn Peltier. As of 2019, she was named the new “water walker” or Chief Water Commissioner for the Anishinabek Nation, a role she took upon the passing of previous water commissioner, Josephine Mandamin, her aunt. When asked about her appointal, Anishinabek Nation Grand Council Chief Glen Hare said that it was a very easy choice to make as “Autumn has extensive nibi giikendaaswin (water knowledge). She has been bringing global attention to the water issues in our country for a few years now.” Additionally, Autumn has given many inspiring speeches. The first of which was in 2018 where she was invited to speak at the Global Landscapes Forum in New York City where she directly addressed the UN and other important decision makers. During this address, her passion for water protection was thoroughly conveyed with quotes such as “We can’t eat money or drink oil” being quoted globally. Peltier was invited to speak at the United Nation Secretary-General’s Climate Action Summit in New York in both 2018 and 2019. In 2019, Peltier shared the stage with a fellow youth activist I’m certain all of you know, Greta Thunberg. This speech in 2019 saw her gaining a large following, with her instagram growing from five thousand to over one hundred thousand after the event, allowing her voice to be heard across the globe and inspire thousands. 

Recognition is not what Peltier strives for, but rather action, however she has received numerous awards over the years that have resulted in more people being aware of her efforts, and as such supporting them. Some of these awards include being at the top of the Maclean’s 20 to watch in 2020 list, as well as being named as the only woman in the BBC Top Women of 2019. Peltier was also nominated for the International Children’s Peace Prize in 2017, 2018, and 2019, also being named a “science defender” by the Union of Concerned Scientists in 2019. Most recently, Peltier was awarded the 2021 RevolutionHer Community Vision Youth Award for her work as the Chief Water Commissioner for the Anishinabek Nation. 

Autumn Peltier is an inspiration to me not only because of how young she began her activism, but also due to her persistence and passion for water protection over the years. While many become jaded in the face of environmental concerns and often lose motivation, Peltier has continued to advocate bravely, never afraid to stand up for what she believes in. As touched on in the 2021 Macleans interview, the COVID pandemic has shown that in emergencies, funds and resources are able to be mobilised readily – a frustrating fact for Peltier as these same funds can clearly be allocated to the current drinking water emergencies being faced on reserves. 

We hope that by learning more about Peltier and her advocacy you too feel this frustration about the inaction of the government, and that you turn this frustration into action and advocacy. This Earth Day, call in sick to work and make your voices heard about water rights, and of course, all environmental rights. Stay tuned for next week’s continuation of this series, highlighting another, lesser known environmental activist deserving of our recognition. 

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We can see this complexity playing out in the way wolves in some regions are caught in the paradox of adapting to anthropocentric change while contributing to the demise of caribou herds, at risk of extinction in multiple jurisdictions throughout Canada and the United States. In response, the B.C. government has expanded wolf culls as a way of managing growing threats of extinction while negating responsibility for addressing the deeper issues behind alarming rates of wildlife habitat loss in these same jurisdictions. Both criticized and upheld as an imperfect solution, wolf culls are in fact not a new practice and part of a well-worn colonial management approach that harkens back to its first appearance on this continent in 1630 in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Almost 400 years later, what has changed? Amid growing concerns from scientists, First Nations, ranchers, conservationists, hunters, animal rights activists and citizens on all sides of the debate, governments continue to overwhelmingly reach toward this expensive and controversial management approach for a solution to the threat of extinction. Have we stopped to consider the value placed on holding some creatures in the world and not others? In a recent in-depth report, journalist Sarah Cox revealed the B.C. government spent upwards of $2 million last winter on initiatives to kill 432 wolves, the most expensive of which was in the Kootenay region where, according to the B.C. Ministry of Forests, Lands, Natural Resources and Rural Development, they spent $100,000 to kill 10 wolves. Perhaps we need to step back from the zero-sum game of ‘yes versus no’ to think more deeply about who bears the true cost of turning away from the deeper issues behind our current crisis of wildlife extinction? More importantly, what we are willing to do about it as a society?

What often gets missed in the perpetual loop of applying wolf culls as so-called short-term solutions, is the long story of failed policy mechanisms that were supposed to prevent us from getting here in the first place. One of these is the North American Model of Wildlife Conservation (NAM), which positions wildlife as a resource to be managed on behalf of what is referred to as the public trust. Whose voices are taken seriously as constituting members of the public trust is a question that needs greater attention? Who do governments manage wildlife for and who gets consulted in the process?

Figure 1: Wolf track in snow. Photo taken during carnivore surveys, Salmo, B.C., Selkirk mountains. January, 2017. Credit: Rhiannon Kirton

While competition between caribou and other cervids (e.g., moose or deer) can lead to increased caribou predation by wolves, this is simply the most recent proximate cause of declines. Historically, caribou decline has been attributed not only to predation as a result of habitat augmentation and apparent competition, but also to high levels of legal and illegal harvest in the 1960s and 70s and adverse weather, amongst other factors (Environment Canada). While predator and moose reductions have been shown to increase caribou numbers in the short term, at best they have been shown to be a band aid solution versus a viable long-term strategy for success. As awareness of the ultimate driver of dangerous levels of caribou decline grows, there is an increasing recognition of the central issue being one of habitat loss, by those both for and against the wolf cull (Fig 1; Bridger, 2019). Although conservation and other advocacy groups continue to push for protection of old growth caribou habitat, the question of why government decision makers continue to drag their heels along such an ineffectual path gets harder to ignore. Why continue to allow habitats to be degraded and logged at the expense of both caribou and wolves? Whose voices do governments prioritize in the process of continued failure to protect caribou habitat? (Palm et al., 2020; MCRI, 2009). Is failing to do so a breach of NAM’s principle of acting on behalf of the public trust? What, if any, mechanisms exist to hold those in power accountable?  

Figure 2: Caribou habitat. South Selkirk mountain range close to White Water Ski. Resort photo taken during aerial caribou survey. February 2017. Credit: Rhiannon Kirton

NAM denotes a public ownership of wildlife resources which “is held in trust for the benefit of present and future generations by government”, although in real terms, this public often is rarely inclusive of First Nations and Native American peoples, a problem unto itself that we cannot do justice here (Eichler and Baumeister, 2018). The prospect of such entitlement being translated into a meaningful, productive public stewardship is uncertain, given “governance model for wildlife conservation decision making is typically at the (elected) ministerial level”, while boards and commissions exert limited impact. Despite governments admitting the need to modify the model for a greater participatory decision making, the caribou case manifests minimal progress in this respect. Unfortunately, caribou being federally listed as a Species At Risk in Canada has not translated into provincial habitat protection outside of federally owned lands. Why? Part of the reason is that voices of those outside of the decision-making structure might not only be ignored, but also be rendered silent. What does it say about our society in a time of ecological crisis to prioritize industry stakeholders above the value of a functioning ecosystem, which contains intact guilds of predators and ungulates alike? How, why and on whose terms is this discrepancy allowed to continue? 

In discussing the future of the North American Model (NAM), this statement is overwhelmingly instrumentalist: “the maintenance and fostering of landscapes that can sustain viable populations of all wildlife to ensure conservation of biodiversity and human use and enjoyment are of paramount concern”.  Among recommendations of applying and upgrading the model, citizen engagement in the conservation of biodiversity is stressed with grand and empty guidance. Why bend the goal of wildlife conservation to benefit industry stakeholders for short-term economic gain, if doing so erodes understandings of, and possibilities for, biodiversity as an integral component for our collective survival and prosperity? Given everything we now know about the importance of biodiversity in maintaining a healthy and sustainable world, shouldn’t we be promoting interdependency and reciprocity with nature as ultimate goals in public policy, for example, NAM’s wildlife management policy frameworks and application? The model does not need to stress the paramount importance of “the maintenance and fostering landscapes that can sustain viable populations of all wildlife to ensure conservation of biodiversity” and “human use and enjoyment”, because once the former is secured, it enables the latter. There do not exist two natural worlds, an abstract one that is servile to profit-driven human needs and a real one with lives we’ve never been familiar with. The problem of the model, nevertheless, further entrenches a rupture between humans and nature.

Figure 3: Wolf tracks. Simonette River, Municipal District of Greenview, AB. August 2020. Credit: Narda Nelson.

At such a precarious juncture for many creatures and habitats on the brink of extinction, can the story of contemporary wolves be rewritten beyond polarizing figures of either hero or villain? More than simply an inflammatory topic of debate, wolf culls point to the deeper problem of a collective refusal to step back from polarizing debates to better understand and take responsibility for contributing to the very issues that define these challenging times. To restore and safeguard the ecosystems that our existence depends on, it seems increasingly obvious that we should look to Indigenous peoples who have successfully protected the land for millennia. Perhaps the NAM’s failing is in its application and exclusion of Indigenous voices and the centering of colonial forms of management. There are varied approaches and opinions regarding wolf culls within First Nations across Turtle Island. Some, like the Saulteau and West Moberly First Nations, are already succeeding in holding caribou populations in the world where governments have failed.  Perhaps it’s time to seriously reconsider alternatives to continuing to implement the NAM and instead follow their lead.

This article is part of our March 2021 Western Student Editorial Series – a series that showcases the works of students in the Collaborative Specialization in Environment and Sustainability program. Read more articles from this series here!

References

Brook, R.K., Cattet, M., Darimont, C.T., Paquet, P.C., & Proulx, G. (2015). Maintaining ethical standards during conservation crises. Canadian Wildlife Biology and Management (4), 72-79.

Lavoie, J. (2018, April 5). Seeking the Science Behind B.C.’s Wolf Cull. The Narwhal. https://thenarwhal.ca/seeking-science-behind-b-c-s-wolf-cull/ 

Mountain Caribou Recovery Implementation Plan. (2009) http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/wld/speciesconservation/mc/files/progress_board_update20090213.pdf  

Palm, E. C., Fluker, S., Nesbitt, H. K., Jacob, A. L., & Hebblewhite, M. (2020). The long road to protecting critical habitat for species at risk: The case of southern mountain woodland caribou. Conservation Science and Practice, 2(7), e219.

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The Chippewas of the Thames First Nation

The Chippewas of the Thames First Nation is located 25 km southwest of London, ON close to the west banks of the Thames River. The Thames River is of cultural, livelihood and historical significance and is a major feature in terms of hydrology as it impacts the water table in the flood plains. The water supply in Chippewas of the Thames is considered as Wellhead Protection Area-E based on evaluation methodologies outlined in Ministry of Environment technical rules for municipal Groundwater systems that are Under the Direct Influence (GUDI) of surface water. The Chippewas of the Thames’ water intake comes from an underground infiltration trench located within the floodplain of Thames River, treated and disinfected using ultraviolet light and chlorine. This infiltration trench is considered a GUDI system, which are commonly known as surface water sources for water treatment and protection. Based on this unique feature of the water supply, monitoring the surface water is essential to detect and prevent contaminants and preserve the quality of the groundwater. Since the groundwater bed is close to the surface water, when the surface water is contaminated, there is high likelihood of groundwater contamination as well.

Over the years, surface water quality has continued to deteriorate due to various agricultural activities in the First Nations community. Recent monitoring efforts carried out in the community revealed that the water quality at the Chippewas of the Thames was graded C indicating low aesthetic quality, with high concentrations of nitrogen, phosphorus, bacteria and elevated biological oxygen demand resulting from agricultural activities, storm water outfalls and wastewater treatment plant discharge from upstream communities. To abate these potential water quality problems, regular monitoring of the surface water passing through the community is essential. Furthermore, investigating the effects of land use on the Chippewas of the Thames’ water quality is desirable to propose best management practices.

Attawapiskat First Nation

Attawapiskat First Nation is a community in Northern Ontario with a history of drinking water problems. Their community has two sources for water; a reverse-osmosis purification system with two taps where residents can fill up jugs and bring drinking water to their homes, and heavily chlorinated lake water that can be used for cooking, cleaning and bathing. In July 2019, high levels of toxic disinfection by-products and chemicals from over-chlorinating water that is high in organics were found in both water sources. While organic matter is found in all surface and groundwater and has no direct impact on the consumer’s health, it affects water treatment processes and the resultant safety of drinking water. When a source water is high in organics, the disinfection ability for chlorine is lessened. As a result, more chlorine needs to be added to the water, and disinfection by-products can develop.

Attawapiskat declared a state of emergency in July 2019; residents were told to drink only bottled water, and not to use the other water for cooking or bathing as disinfection byproducts can get into the air, and boiling the water does not clear them. Canada’s Minister of Indigenous Services promised a new water treatment system but did not give a timeline or dollar amount other than $1.5 million for temporary measures allowing residents access to safe drinking, cooking and bathing water. There is a long list of repairs before the water will be safe for the community, including changing the source water from the lake to the lower in organics Attawapiskat River. Attawapiskat is not currently considered to be under a long-term drinking water advisory.

The Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation

The Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation has a population of 816 (2009) and is in Southern Ontario on the eastern shore of the Bruce Peninsula, about 26 km from Wiarton. The community has been under a boil water advisory since January 21, 2019 and the Government of Canada has set a resolution date of March 2021. Drinking water is delivered to residents either via the distribution system from the existing Water Treatment Plant (WTP) on Georgian Bay, trucked delivery to cisterns, or private wells. Marshall et. al. (2019) showed that groundwater quality of wells have been impacted at various depths by septic systems on the reserve. This groundwater contamination results from the aging septic systems and lagoons leaching their contents into the groundwater and contaminating the water being pumped from nearby wells. Fresh water aquifers that are near the surface and below fractured rock are particularly vulnerable. This is because the contaminants can travel rapidly through the few fractures in this formation instead of being given the necessary time to be filtered out as they would be through a finer subsurface. This kind of near-surface formation is found along the Bruce Peninsula and makes this area one of the most vulnerable to bacterial groundwater contamination in southern Ontario.

The Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation continues to await a permanent fix that will ensure clean drinking water is provided to all members of the community. The current solution is the construction of a new WTP that began on September 23, 2020; however, completion of the WTP construction is not expected until 2023, long after the Liberal government’s target for all boil water advisories to be resolved. Interim measures will continue to operate until this is resolved and alternative wastewater treatment technologies should be explored for communities such as these to address the vulnerability that the region has to groundwater contamination.

Historically, First Nations peoples have been excluded from decision-making and this colonialist legacy has reshaped and degraded waterscapes and landscapes across the nation.

The water quality of the communities discussed, and First Nations across Canada are disproportionately threatened in various ways from different sources such as GUDI, over-chlorinated water and septic system leaching. Each community requires different solutions in overcoming the various water quality issues. WTPs are often the proposed solution as in the case of Attawapiskat and Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nations. For Chippewas of the Thames First Nation, constant monitoring of surface water quality is required, and implementing best management practices to reduce agricultural pollutant is recommended. However, these solutions are often technocratic and lack community engagement as discussed by Baijius and Patrick in “We Don’t Drink the Water Here”. Historically, First Nations peoples have been excluded from decision-making and this colonialist legacy has reshaped and degraded waterscapes and landscapes across the nation. The result of marginalization has often limited solutions to maintenance of outdated infrastructure and inappropriate land uses. Innovative and appropriate technologies may be a part of the solution if suitable for the challenges a community faces, but ultimately, recognizing and overcoming the persisting power imbalance and exclusion of Indigenous communities will allow for more sustainable solutions to emerge. 

This article is part of our March 2021 Western Student Editorial Series – a series that showcases the works of students in the Collaborative Specialization in Environment and Sustainability program. Read more articles from this series here!

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