POWER RELATIONS: ENVIRONMENT, EMOTION, AND VIOLENCE IN THE SITE C

DAM APPROVAL PROCESS

by

Brenda Fitzpatrick

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

in

THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES

(Anthropology)

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)

April 2021

©Brenda Fitzpatrick, 2021

The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the dissertation entitled:

Power Relations: Environment, Emotion and Violence in the Site C Dam Approval Process

submitted by Brenda Fitzpatrick in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Anthropology

Examining Committee:

Dr. Bruce G. Miller, Anthropology, UBC Supervisor Dr. Carole Blackburn, Anthropology, UBC Supervisory Committee Member Dr. Shaylih Muehlmann, Anthropology, UBC Supervisory Committee Member Dr. Tracey Heatherington, Anthropology, UBC University Examiner Dr. Tina Loo, History, UBC University Examiner

ii

Abstract

The Site C hydroelectric dam on the Peace River in northeastern British Columbia, though purportedly a source of green power, is controversial because it would flood 5660 hectares (approximately 14,000 acres) of wilderness, farmland, and First Nations’ treaty territory. This dissertation is both an ethnography of that environmental conflict, and an exploration of the intersections between ethnography and conflict transformation. Research methods consisted of participant observation between June 2013 and October 2014, attendance at the Site C public hearings, analysis of hearing transcripts and related documents, and interviews with dam supporters and opponents, including a photo prompt exercise and a key word exercise.

I found that different relationships to the environment and place, and different notions of development carried motivational, moral force in the conflict and were reflected in communication at the public hearings. The competing worldviews did not meet on equal terms, however. The official environmental assessment process discursively and materially favoured pro-Site perspectives in ways that amounted to both structural and cultural violence, in support of a project, that, because of the avoidable physical and psychological harms it would cause affected people, and its inequitable distribution of benefits, would itself be violent.

This research contributes to ethnographic understanding of non-Indigenous perspectives on the environment and extractivism, and their connections to the violence manifested in environmental consultation. It underlines the gravity of environmental violence as real violence, particularly against Indigenous people, and challenges the notion that structural violence is invisible.

The photo prompt exercise demonstrated potential as a non-rational, non-confrontational method for uncovering unarticulated differences in perspective, and overall, the research iii

suggests the value of combined ethnographic and conflict transformation approaches in worldview conflicts. I conclude by drawing on Docherty’s (2001) concept of “worldview translation” as a way to navigate between the need to promote understanding and the obligation to call out injustice, in conflicts where sincere worldview differences are entangled with systemic violence.

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Lay Summary

This study aimed to improve understanding of the conflict over the Site C hydroelectric dam. Field research took place between June 2013 and October 2014 and included attendance at public hearings and interviews. I found that Site C supporters and opponents were motivated by differing ideas about the environment and development and communicated differently at the public hearings. The Site C project would cause unnecessary physical and psychological harm to

Indigenous and some non-Indigenous people in the area, while benefits would primarily go to others; therefore, I argue that the project would be violent, although individuals did not harm other individuals directly. Site C proponents had financial and political advantages in

Environmental Assessment process, and the process itself caused harm to Site C opponents, while justifying a violent project; therefore, I argue that the process was also violent. This research suggests that anthropological research can provide insights into environmental conflicts.

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Preface

This dissertation is independent and original work by Brenda Fitzpatrick, the sole author, who conceived and performed all aspects of the research (including research design, ethics, field research, analysis, and presentation of results). Photos are by the author.

This research was approved by the UBC Behavioural Research Ethics Board under the title

“Site C for Conflict: A Case Study in Anthropology and Mediation,” Certificate Number

H13-00750, (Principal Investigator: Dr. Bruce G. Miller).

An adaptation of the Introduction and parts of the Conclusion has been published as

Fitzpatrick, B. (2020). Anthropology and Conflict Transformation: Promises and Dilemmas of Worldview Translation. In A.J. Willow & K.A. Yotebieng (Eds.), Anthropology and Activism: New Contexts, New Conversations (pp. 160-174). London: Routledge Press.

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Table of Contents

Abstract ...... iii

Lay Summary ...... v

Preface ...... vi

Table of Contents ...... vii

List of Figures ...... xv

List of Abbreviations ...... xvi

Acknowledgements ...... xviii

Dedication ...... xxi

Introduction ...... 1

1.1 Research Questions ...... 2

1.2 Orienting Theory: Conflict, Culture, Environment ...... 4

1.2.1 Peace and Conflict Studies, Conflict Transformation...... 4

1.2.2 Culture and Peace and Conflict Studies ...... 7

1.2.3 Anthropology, Peace, and Conflict ...... 9

1.2.4 Worldviews, Conflict, and Violence ...... 12

1.2.5 Environmental Conflict ...... 17

1.3 Methodology: Complications of Double-sided Ethnography ...... 23

1.3.1 Community Participation ...... 23

1.3.2 Conflict Dynamics ...... 25

1.3.3 Analysis...... 26

1.3.4 Symmetrical Anthropology, Engagement, and Conflict Transformation ...... 28

1.4 Chapter Overview ...... 32 vii

The Peace River Valley and the Energetic City: Opportunity and Impact ...... 37

2.1 The Peace ...... 37

2.1.1 Centre of Abundance ...... 38

2.2 The Energetic City ...... 41

2.2.1 Fort St John: “What Did I Do Wrong?”...... 41

2.2.2 “A Powerhouse of Opportunity” ...... 44

2.2.2.1 Economic Activity ...... 44

2.2.2.2 Hydroelectricity/Site C ...... 46

2.2.2.3 “Explosive Growth” ...... 47

2.2.2.4 Getting It Done in a Tight Labour Market ...... 48

2.2.2.5 “A Place to Raise a Family and Enjoy a High Quality of Life” ...... 50

2.2.2.6 “Just Here on the Surface” ...... 51

2.2.2.7 Poverty and Violence ...... 52

2.3 An Outdoor Paradise ...... 56

2.3.1 Unlimited Recreational Opportunities ...... 56

2.3.2 “The Land is Dead” ...... 59

You Either Get It or You Don’t? Valley Residents and “Feelings for the Land” 64

3.1 Introduction ...... 64

3.2 Investigating “Feelings for the Land” ...... 66

3.2.1 Interviews and Interviewees ...... 66

3.2.2 Values Elicitation Tools ...... 68

3.2.2.1 “Symbolic Explorations of Value” ...... 68

3.2.2.2 Creating a Stimulus Photo ...... 71 viii

3.2.2.3 Laboratory vs Field ...... 72

3.2.2.4 Responses ...... 76

3.2.2.4.1 Taking a Test ...... 76

3.2.2.4.2 Putting Themselves in the Picture ...... 76

3.2.2.4.3 Recreation, Family, Contemplation ...... 78

3.2.2.4.4 Memories and Identity ...... 82

3.3 Conclusion ...... 84

Progress and Place: Competing “Stories” of How a Valley Should Be ...... 87

4.1 Introduction ...... 87

4.2 Site C Conflict and Combatants ...... 88

4.3 Environmental Perceptions, Values, Worldviews—Literature ...... 91

4.4 Site C Supporters ...... 94

4.4.1 Pro-Site C View ...... 95

4.4.2 The Future: “You Can’t Stop Progress” ...... 96

4.4.2.1 Future Demand for Power ...... 96

4.4.2.2 The Obligation to Progress ...... 98

4.4.2.3 Green Power: “Pick Your Poison” ...... 100

4.4.2.3.1 “This or Something Else” ...... 100

4.4.2.3.2 Financial Sustainability ...... 101

4.4.3 The Promise of Technology—Doing It Right This Time ...... 103

4.4.4 Land and Change: Enhancing Nature ...... 105

4.4.4.1 “Imagine if It Was My Home”...... 105

4.4.4.2 “We Have Lots of Land” ...... 107 ix

4.4.4.3 Everything Changes ...... 110

4.4.4.4 Natural Change ...... 111

4.4.4.5 “Everything We Do Has an Impact” ...... 112

4.4.4.6 Improving on Nature ...... 113

4.5 Site C Opponents ...... 115

4.5.1 Anti-Site C View...... 115

4.5.2 “We’re Gonna Have to Stop Progress” ...... 116

4.5.2.1 “Producing Landfill Material” ...... 116

4.5.2.2 “All the Other Places Are Being Wrecked” ...... 117

4.5.2.3 “The People Who Live Here Become Expendable” ...... 118

4.5.3 The Promise of New Technology—"Getting with the 21st Century” ...... 119

4.5.3.1 Renewables and Emerging Technologies ...... 121

4.5.4 The Future: “Destroying Farmland is a Sin” ...... 122

4.5.4.1 Mouths to Feed ...... 122

4.5.4.2 Corn, Cantaloupe and Melons...... 122

4.5.4.3 Bringing the 100-Mile Diet Closer to Home ...... 123

4.5.4.4 Civilization or Not ...... 124

4.5.5 Land and Change: An Irreplaceable Treasure ...... 126

4.5.5.1 Where Would Wildlife Go? ...... 127

4.5.5.2 Place Attachment ...... 129

4.5.5.2.1 A Reservoir Is Not a River ...... 129

4.5.5.2.2 Valley Stories ...... 132

4.5.5.2.3 Home, Community, History ...... 133 x

4.5.5.2.4 There Is Only One Peace Valley ...... 136

4.6 Conclusion ...... 137

“A Violent Form of Energy Production:” The WAC Bennett and Site C Dams

...... 139

5.1 Introduction ...... 139

5.2 Structural and Environmental Violence ...... 140

5.3 The WAC Bennett Dam: Power and Disempowerment ...... 144

5.3.1 “Some Things You Can’t Fix with Money” ...... 149

5.4 Site C: “The Nail in the Coffin” ...... 152

5.4.1 Development and Destruction...... 152

5.4.2 Human Impacts ...... 155

5.4.2.1 “We Can’t Feed Our Children Money” ...... 155

5.4.2.2 “A Dangerous Place” ...... 156

5.4.2.3 “The Dark Cloud Hanging Over Us” ...... 159

5.4.2.4 “The Beginning of the End of a Culture” ...... 162

5.4.2.5 A Sense of Exploitation ...... 169

5.5 Conclusion ...... 170

Being “Consulted Upon” ...... 172

6.1 Introduction ...... 172

6.2 Cultural Violence: “They Call It Progress, We Call It Destruction” ...... 172

6.3 The Site C Consultation and Environmental Assessment Process ...... 175

6.3.1 “Many, Many Years of Consultation and Engagement” ...... 178

6.4 Being “Consulted Upon” ...... 187 xi

6.4.1 “We Hear You…” ...... 187

6.4.2 What is Consultation? ...... 190

6.4.3 BC Hydro on Consultation...... 192

6.4.3.1 Public Consultations: Consistent with Guidelines ...... 192

6.4.3.2 Consultations with Aboriginal Groups: “Timely, Structured, Well-Funded” 193

6.4.3.3 “Honourable” and “Transparent” ...... 195

6.4.4 A Done Deal ...... 196

6.5 Conclusion ...... 198

Songs and System Optimizers: Asymmetrical Communication at the Public

Hearings ...... 201

7.1 Joint Review Panel Hearings, Site C Environmental Assessment, Day 1 ...... 201

7.2 Introduction ...... 204

7.3 The Public Hearings ...... 205

7.4 Different Languages...... 207

7.4.1 “A Deep Connection with This Land” ...... 208

7.4.2 Presumed Objectivity ...... 215

7.4.2.1 Actorless Communication ...... 218

7.4.2.2 Constructing Reality ...... 220

7.5 Conclusion ...... 229

Can’t See the Valley for the Valued Components: Cumulative Effects, Impact

Mitigation and Compensation in Contention ...... 231

8.1 Introduction ...... 231

8.2 Values and Valued Components ...... 233 xii

8.3 Cumulative Impacts ...... 238

8.3.1 Unprecedented Development ...... 238

8.3.2 Cumulative Effects Assessment ...... 240

8.3.3 “There Was a Valley—Now There Isn’t” ...... 245

8.4 Mitigation and Compensation ...... 251

8.4.1 Avoidance, Mitigation, Compensation ...... 252

8.4.2 “Mitigation Where Feasible” ...... 253

8.4.3 “Things You Just Can’t Mitigate” ...... 255

8.4.4 “Replacing a Wetland with a Wetland That’s Already There” ...... 257

8.5 Panel Response and Government Decisions ...... 264

8.6 Conclusion ...... 268

“A Legalistic War:” The Violence of “Consultation" ...... 270

9.1 Introduction ...... 270

9.2 A Legalistic War ...... 272

9.3 Structural Imbalance ...... 275

9.3.1 David and Goliath ...... 275

9.3.2 “Predisposition to Approve” ...... 284

9.3.3 Onus on Opponents ...... 285

9.3.4 Crown Conflict of Interest ...... 286

9.3.5 Violence Against Identity ...... 289

9.4 Coercion, Voicelessness, Futility ...... 291

9.5 “Hearing with Our Hearts” ...... 294

9.6 Conclusion ...... 299 xiii

Discussion and Conclusion ...... 301

10.1 Conflict Transformation and Anthropology ...... 301

10.2 Consultation as Structural and Cultural Violence ...... 303

10.3 Contributions, Dilemmas, Questions ...... 317

10.3.1 Ethnography of Environmental Violence ...... 318

10.3.2 Transformation of Structural Conflicts ...... 327

References ...... 335

xiv

List of Figures

Figure 1-1: Location of Site C Dam (now under construction) ...... 4

Figure 3-1: Stimulus Photo for Values Elicitation Tool ...... 72

Figure 7-1: Sacred Objects at the Joint Review Panel Hearings ...... 203

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List of Abbreviations

ADR Alternative Dispute Resolution

BC British Columbia

BCH BC Hydro

BCEAO British Columbia Environmental Assessment Office

BCUC British Columbia Utilities Commission

CEA Cumulative Effects Assessment

CEAA Canadian Environmental Assessment Agency

CIA Cumulative Impacts Assessment

CoC Chamber of Commerce

EA Environmental Assessment

EIA Environmental Impact Assessment

EIS Environmental Impact Statement

FLNRO British Columbia Ministry of Forests, Lands, and Natural Resource Operations

FSJ Fort St John

GHG Greenhouse Gas

JRP Joint Review Panel (Review Panel Established by the Federal Minister of the

Environment and the British Columbia Minister of Environment)

LNG Liquified Natural Gas

PACS Peace and Conflict Studies

PRRD Peace River Regional District

PVEA Peace Valley Environment Association

PVLA Peace Valley Landowners’ Association xvi

T8TA Treaty Eight Tribal Association

UNDRIP United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

VC Valued Component

VEC Valued Ecosystem Component

VP Vice President

xvii

Acknowledgements

I gratefully acknowledge that I have had the privilege of living and working on the traditional, unceded, and ancestral lands of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil Waututh people for most of my life. I also acknowledge with appreciation that my research took place on the traditional territory of the Sicannie (Sikanni), Slavey, Beaver (Dane-Zaa), Cree, and Saulteau First Nations.

I am grateful to the many people and institutions whose support and input made this project possible:

To the anonymous Peace River residents I interviewed, and to the participants at the Site C public hearings, for sharing your time, your thoughts and emotions, and for the words I have borrowed as windows into your worldviews, without which this dissertation would not be. I only hope I have done them justice. To Ruth Ann and Bob Darnall, Dan Davies, Ken and Darby Forest, Arthur and Laurel Hadland, Pam Hendy, Verena Hoffman, Christy Jordan-Fenton, Michelle Laboucane, Andrea Morison, Cheryl Peebles, Candace Peever, Joyce Smith, Neil and Lynn Thomson, and Tracey Wolsey for your hospitality and friendship, for memorable conversations, practical help with my car, canoe loans, and more. To George Desjarlais and the late Darcy Desjarlais, and Debra Grant for the warm, no- questions-asked welcome into your spiritual community.

To my funders, for scholarships that made all the difference—a Vanier Canada Graduate Scholarship from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, and, from UBC, a University Graduate Fellowship in my first year, as well as a Graduate Student Research Award. To the Department of Anthropology, for taking a chance on a student with no previous background in Anthropology, and for the consistent support thereafter. For ideas, inspiration, questions, and assistance of all kinds that contributed to my development as a scholar and teacher, I am grateful to Michael Blake, John Barker, Alexia Bloch, Jennifer Kramer, Andrew Martindale, Lesley Robertson, Bill McKellin, Patrick Moore, Susan Rowley, Sarah xviii

Schneiderman, and (at the Institute for Gender, Race, Sexuality and Social Justice) Mark Harris, as well as Sarah Raven (teaching assistant) and “my” students in Anthropology of Law and Contemporary Theory. I thank the Department’s Administrative staff, particularly Eleanore Asuncion, Kara Holzer, Gisele Choi, and Joyce Ma for their ever-cheerful responses to requests for help. To my dissertation committee. As a former student advocate with the Graduate Student Society, I know the importance of the committee to a student’s experience and outcome, and I fully appreciate how lucky I have been to have Dr. Carole Blackburn and Dr. Shaylih Muehlmann, and Supervisor, Dr. Bruce Miller (about whom more below), as my advisors. Their encouragement and prompt and constructive criticism greatly improved the dissertation and made the whole experience a positive one. To my dissertation Examiners—Dr. Anna Willow, Dr. Tina Loo, and Dr. Tracey Heatherington—and Chair, Dr. Kai Chan, for their thoughtful engagement and constructive feedback. To the UBC Centre for Accessibility, especially Sarah Knitter and Caroline Kingston. Thanks to their support I may be the only person who has ever finished a PhD in better shape than they started. To Joy Coben and Shirley Nakata at the UBC Ombuds Office—colleagues, sounding boards, and friends. To Reza Karimi, Y Vy Truong, and May Yan at the UBC Library Research Commons, whose combined efforts fixed an intractable last-minute formatting glitch.

To the bright, caring, and dedicated friends and academic comrades along the way who have been one of the best things about this journey: Kirby Huminuik, Sarah Komarnisky, Laura Lee, Marlee Maguire, Molly Malone, Tal Nitsan, Shayna Plaut, Lara Rosenoff, Elie Sarraf, Beth Stewart, Ana Vivaldi and Rafa Wainer, thank you for your support, your company and your wisdom in navigating academia and academic life. I also offer sheepish thanks to those friends who were also members of the Dissertation writing group: Mascha Gugganig, Lauren Harding, Clayton Whitt, Kamal Arora, and Rachel Roy suffered through an initial draft of the first chapter

xix

(I can’t believe I made you read it!) I am especially grateful to Oralia Gomez-Ramirez and Chrissy Yeung for all their encouragement and their above-and-beyond defence coaching.

To friends and family near and far who have nothing to do with Anthropology, thank you for keeping me whole. To Kathy, Graham, and Ana, for always being there with me. You are my rocks. To Mum and Dad, for a lifetime of love and support, both moral and practical, which in this instance meant (among much else), filling my freezer with food at key moments (Mum) and making the drive down from Fort St John with me (Dad).

Finally, there are two people without whom this dissertation might never have been finished (or started):

Dr. Bruce Miller saw the potential in this project before I did. His enthusiasm gave me confidence, and his perspectives expanded my thinking, even as he made it clear that I didn’t have to do things the same way he did. I will always appreciate that before I left for fieldwork, he told me, “if you don’t feel safe, get out of there,” which I think reflects his respect for students alongside his commitment to research. I have benefitted from his intellectual guidance, his patience and encouragement, and his experience as a supervisor. It has been my honour to be his student.

My husband, Robin, didn’t know what he was getting into when he married a grad student, but he has supported me and my research in every possible way—he spent his spring break in Fort St John! —with patience and unique good humour. I couldn’t have done it without you—and I wouldn’t have wanted to. My love and gratitude are beyond words.

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Dedication

To Robin

To my parents

To the Peace Valley and those who love it

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Introduction

The deepest roots of this dissertation lie in an incident during the “War in the Woods,” a confrontation over logging in the old-growth forests of Clayoquot Sound, on British Columbia’s

(BC’s) Vancouver Island, that culminated in a mass civil disobedience campaign over the summer of 1993. As one of 12,000 people who participated in blockading a logging road that summer (Pierce, 2018), (from the sidelines, in my case), I chanted slogans and cheered the arrestees with sincerity, but I was also troubled, even a bit put off, by the unsubtlety of mass blockades as a problem-solving technique, and the adversarial interactions, given that both sides professed to be concerned with the future of the forests. This disquiet intensified, when, arriving for a volunteer shift at the Western Canada Wilderness Committee’s roadside information kiosk,

I learned that a day or so earlier, someone had—purposely—dumped a load of human sewage in front of our camp. Although the mess had already been cleaned up, it was quite a statement both on the strength of feelings involved, and the lack of constructive outlets for them, and I was shocked.

This experience lingered in the back of my mind as I completed an MA in Peace and

Conflict Studies (PACS), which seemed to offer a more productive way to address conflicts of all types, including environmental conflicts where deep-seated values are at stake. In fact, PACS initially led me away from BC environmental conflict to peace and development work in Kenya and Sudan, then the Philippines and Indonesia. Working in several cultures brought home to me the impact of cultural differences on everyday interactions, and highlighted the even greater impact on conflict situations, which I felt had been strangely neglected in PACS. At the same time, I wanted to be involved in a struggle I could not walk away from, and so I returned to my

1

hometown of Vancouver and began a PhD in Anthropology, to focus on cultural factors in environmental conflict.

At the time, the “Site C Clean Energy Project” to use its official, though controversial, name, a hydroelectric dam now under construction by the provincial BC Hydro and Power

Authority (BC Hydro) for the Peace River in northeastern BC, was re-emerging as an issue. The multi-billion-dollar project has been hotly disputed since its inception and remains subject to a court challenge. If completed, it would flood approximately 5660 hectares (approximately

14,000 acres) of wilderness, farmland, and First Nations’ territory under treaty to provide 1,100 megawatts of “green” power (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2013d, 9, 1). I chose it as a case study because I had no previous knowledge of, or involvement in, the matter, it was located in BC, and a formal environmental assessment process would be conducted in English, with relevant documents in the public domain. I planned to research both pro and con perspectives, and the ways they were contested through the official consultation and

Environmental Assessment (EA) process.

1.1 Research Questions

In preparing for the research, I quickly discovered that Anthropology offered much of what I had missed in PACS, in terms of deep explorations of how people belonging to various identity groups relate to the world, but that this knowledge has rarely been directed for use in resolving conflicts or integrated into conflict resolution theory or practice. Thus, I developed two research goals. The first was to carry out an ethnography of the conflict; that is, to listen in good faith to Site C supporters and opponents in order to understand what was important to them, what this project meant for them, and why. I asked: What are the values and assumptions underlying arguments for and against the dam? More specifically, what understandings of the proper 2

relationships among humans, and between humans and the non-human world motivate these arguments? I also considered how people with differing affiliations interacted. Were there stylistic differences in how they communicated? What was the effect of these on the conduct of the conflict and attempts to resolve it? Finally, what role did societal power dynamics play in this issue? I hoped that considering pro- and anti-Site C perspectives concurrently would enhance my own and others’ understanding of the conflict and perhaps produce openings for resolution.

The second goal was to explore the intersections between ethnography and PACS, more specifically between ethnography and “conflict transformation.” Both, for instance, involve the translation of perspectives. Conflict intervenors work in various ways to improve mutual understanding between parties when their differing viewpoints contribute to animosity.

Ethnographers develop insight into perspectives other than their own through participant observation, then use their role as intermediary between their protagonists and their audience to create an empathetic, revealing (if partial), representation. Understanding without judging is also central to each of these endeavours; “empathic,” non-judgmental listening is not only the “most important attribute” of successful conflict intervenors (Salem, 2003), but parallels the cultural relativism fundamental to anthropology.

I wondered, therefore, what a conflict lens might contribute to ethnography, and how ethnographic insights could support peaceful conflict resolution. I found that combining the deep cultural perspective of anthropology with an applied conflict transformation orientation, while not uncomplicated, offers potential for promoting more just solutions to environmental conflicts.

Although the combination presented methodological and ethical challenges, it was fruitful: considering multiple perspectives through a culturally relative conflict transformation lens and using ethnographic investigative techniques allowed me to uncover insights about substantive, 3

relational, and structural, as well as cultural issues in the Site C conflict that would otherwise have been difficult to obtain, and revealed the violence of not only the project but also the

Figure 1-1: Location of Site C Dam (now under construction) official consultation and decision-making process.

(Joint Review Panel 2014, 8)

1.2 Orienting Theory: Conflict, Culture, Environment

1.2.1 Peace and Conflict Studies, Conflict Transformation

I was not the first to wonder whether anthropology and Peace and Conflict studies (and its variants) would benefit from greater integration. A small cluster of works and journal editions have explored “The Mutual Relevance of Anthropology and Peace Studies” (Sponsel, 1994; and

4

Brown, 2013; Davidheiser, 2007a; Davidheiser & Treitler, 2007; Denskus & Kasmatopolous,

2015; Hydle, 2006; Mahmood, 2003; Skinner, 1994; Wolfe & Yang, 1996); most conclude that there is potential for greater synergy, but that both fields have been slow to act on this conclusion.

To clarify, “Peace and Conflict Studies” is an interdisciplinary field with roots in political science, history, theology, psychology, philosophy, sociology, and anthropology, among others, that aims to understand and prevent conflict, violence, and gross human rights violations, and to build “positive peace” (Galtung, 1969).1 “Peace studies,” “Peace Research,” and “Peace and

Justice studies,” usually imply a focus on “large scale disputes,” (particularly armed conflicts)

(Davidheiser, 2007b, 11), and their underlying causes. “Peace and Conflict Studies” may also include the sub- or related field of “Conflict Resolution,” which can be roughly defined as “the effort to pursue the collaborative, informal, and noncoercive processing of conflict” (Brigg &

Bleiker, 2011, 3). Conflict Resolution encompasses many types of domestic and international disputes and resolution processes, from schools, to peacebuilding before or after war, to consumer issues (Davidheiser, 2007b, 11), but generally deals with bounded, discrete disputes rather than diffuse, systemic violence.

Dugan explores how Peace Studies, with its emphasis on deep social causes of conflict, and Conflict Resolution, with its attention to immediate problems, “might relate to each other more fully,” identifying a set of “inter-related” types of conflict (Dugan, 1996, 14). The most common of these, “issues-specific” conflict, may be “over information, differing interpretations

1 “Negative peace” is the “absence of personal violence,” while “positive peace” is the “absence of structural violence” or the state of “social justice" (Galtung, 1969, 183). 5

of agreed-upon information, or divergent interests” (Dugan, 1996,15); however, the ostensible issue, the trigger, may not be the real source of the conflict. Issue-specific conflict is “nested” within “relational conflict,” which is rooted in interactional patterns and feelings between the parties (Dugan, 1996, 15). Relational conflicts, in turn, are nested within a structural context.

“[S]tructural conflict” grows from institutionalized social inequities such as racism, sexism, and homophobia (Dugan, 1996, 15,16). Each type of conflict manifests itself at the levels nested within it: relational conflicts are concretized over specific issues, while structural conflict is expressed as both relational and issues-specific conflict (Dugan, 1996, 16).

John Paul Lederach incorporates and adapts Dugan’s nested paradigm into the concept of

“conflict transformation,” an approach that includes, but goes beyond, the more familiar

“conflict resolution” (Lederach, 2003, 4). Not limited to the resolution of specific issues, conflict transformation treats conflict as an avenue for positive change, an “opportunity to learn about patterns and to address relationship structures while providing concrete solutions to presenting issues” (Lederach, 2003, 12). Lederach uses the metaphor of progressive eyeglasses that integrate a variety of focal distances within a single frame, allowing the viewer to “see different aspects of a complex reality,” both fine detail and “the whole picture” (Lederach, 2003, 10).

Similarly, conflict transformation is a conceptual framework that connects the presenting conflict issue with relational patterns and socio-historical background, that is, what he calls the “the content, the context, and the structure of the relationship”(Lederach, 2003, 12). As Lederach conceives it, conflict transformation is both descriptive, involving analysis of conflict and social dynamics, and prescriptive, involving deliberate intervention to understand the causes of conflict and violence and to advocate for change (Lederach, 2003,25).

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1.2.2 Culture and Peace and Conflict Studies

Lederach, among other authors, considers conflict to be a “socially constructed cultural event” (Lederach, 1995, 9); as Avruch puts it, while cultural differences in themselves are rarely a cause of conflict, culture (which may be associated with occupational, class, religion or other affiliation, as well as with ethnic or geographical groupings), “is always the lens through which the causes of conflict are refracted” (Avruch, 1998, 30).

Although some authors and practitioners, reflecting the dominance of political science and social psychology in the origins of the field, denied the importance of culture in conflict resolution (Avruch, 2007; see Burton & Sandole, 1987; Zartman, 1993), Lederach struck a chord with his (1995) call for elicitive conflict resolution training models that drew on participants’ knowledge and experience of conflict, rather than the culture-blind, prescriptive transfer of mostly North American mediation and training models to diverse contexts, which had been the norm. By 1998, Solomon declared a consensus that “culture matters” in conflict resolution

(Solomon, 1998, ix).

D’Estree and Parsons describe a “wave” of research concerning the “psychosocial dimensions” affecting conflict perceptions and practice in the late 1990s and into the 2000s

(D’Estrée & Parsons, 2018, 11). These dimensions included high- or low-context communication

(Ting-Toomey, 2001), face maintenance (Ting-Toomey & Kurogi, 1998), hierarchical or horizontal relationships and homogeneity vs heterogeneity (LeBaron, 2003), as well as drawing on older work: task achievement versus relationship focus (Hofstede, 1991), individualism versus collectivism (Triandis, 1972), and monochronic versus polychronic orientation (E. T.

Hall, 1959, 1976). Although authors often warned that these dimensions existed along spectra, rather than as dichotomies, the temptation to attach them to national groups in a “shorthand, 7

essentialist way,” (D’Estrée & Parsons, 2018, 11) led to work on national negotiating styles, including the “classic, synthesizing analysis,” Negotiating Across Cultures (Cohen, 1997 in

Avruch, 2018, 392).

Counteracting “concerns about cultural oversimplification,” a “myriad of case studies” then began to document “indigenous and traditional perceptions of conflict and conflict resolution” around the world (Appiah-Marfo, 2013; Ati, 2009; Behrendt & Kelly, 2008; M.

Brigg & Tonnaer, 2008; McIntyre Miller, 2013; McWilliam, 2007; Quinn, 2010; Syukur &

Bagshaw, 2013; Walker, 2013; and others, in D’Estrée & Parsons, 2018). These ethnographically richer and more emic descriptions were linked to feminist and post-colonial attention to subaltern and minority voices (Avruch, 2018, 392). Meanwhile, peace research was experiencing a “local turn,” critiquing the “liberal peace” (founded on democratization, free markets, and rule of law), and attending to local understandings and metrics of peace (Bräuchler, 2018b; Millar, 2018c; see

MacGinty & Firchow, 2016 and Richmond, 2011 in Avruch, 2018). The liberal peace paradigm still predominates in peace research, however (Bräuchler, 2018, 19), and ethnographic work, which cannot produce the objective statistics still favoured in the field (Bräuchler, 2018a, 36) remains much less common and less influential than quantitative research, in both academia and policy (Millar, 2018c, 12; 2018a, 254). In some cases, scholars of the local turn have

“appropriated the ‘ethnographic’ label” (Millar, 2018c, 13), without making use of the conceptual and methodological tools anthropology could provide (Bräuchler, 2018a, 2018b;

Millar, 2018c). The field as a whole remains wary of “culture,” seeing it “as a vague, political, and notoriously difficult term,” (Brigg, 2010, 329 in Bräuchler, 2018b, 17); a view of culture, such as Brigg proposes, that emphasizes dynamism and relatedness over static categories and difference), is particularly threatening (Morgan Brigg, 2008, 48 in Bräuchler, 2018b, 19). 8

Furthermore, anthropology’s purported “obsession with details,” the long timelines and expense of extended fieldwork, and lack of communication across disciplines and between practitioners and academics, along with language barriers and security issues in conflict-affected areas have also hampered the take-up of genuine ethnography in peace research (Bräuchler, 2018a, 34).

1.2.3 Anthropology, Peace, and Conflict

Conflict, however, in the form of specific, concrete disputes, or “repression…domination and subordination,” has always been one of anthropology’s “favourite things to study,”

(Davidheiser & Treitler, 2007, 12). Anthropologists have contributed extensively to the debate on whether human nature is innately violent or peaceful (Simons, 1999 reviews the literature on both sides of this debate). Ethnographies of violence and war have proliferated over the last few decades; the several dozen published in the University of Pennsylvania Press’s Ethnography of

Political Violence series (including Maček, 2011; Nordstrom, 1997; Robben, 2007; Skidmore,

2004) explore the lived reality and systemic dynamics of war and deprivation; other notable works in this vein include Bourgois, 2003; Daniel, 1996; Das, Kleinman, Ramphele, &

Reynolds, 2000; Finnström, 2008; Mahmood, 1996; Scheper-Hughes, 1993. Scheper-Hughes and

Bourgois anthologized anthropological and related perspectives on the “continuum of violence” in their Violence in War and Peace (2004).

The sub-field of legal anthropology focuses explicitly on conflict and its resolution in socio-cultural context. Early classics in legal anthropology (Bohannan, 1957; Gluckman, 1955;

Llewelllyn & Hoebel, 1941; Pospisil, 1958; Schapera, 1938) developed the “case study” method, whereby inter-personal disputes were followed in detail from the initial disagreement, through

“legal reasoning” and eventually to ruling or resolution, in the process producing a body of knowledge on conflict resolution across cultures, particularly in small-scale societies without 9

formal legal systems. Works such as Nader and Todd’s (1978) The Disputing Process—Law in

Ten Societies, and Gulliver’s (1979) Disputes and Negotiations: A Cross-Cultural Perspective sketched common patterns.

Advocates of Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) in the United States in the 1970s drew on ethnographic research concerning “tribal,” conflict settlement mechanisms, particularly

Gibbs’ (1963) work on the Kpelle moot, as examples for “more humane, organic, therapeutic, non-adversarial” judicial processes (Avruch, 200, 13). In turn, a few legal anthropologists newly attuned to “issues of class and domination in Western legal institutions” (Moore, 2001, 95) turned a critical lens on ADR (Conley & O’Barr, 2019; Merry, 1990) with Nader, for example, protesting the imposition of a “harmony ideology” (Nader, 1998) that “subverts access to justice”

(in Avruch, 2007).

Legal anthropology then became “mostly marginal” to early conflict resolution (Avruch,

2007), until recently, when work exploring the ways “local societies…cope with conflict” is being “reinvented by the critics of liberal peace” (Bräuchler, 2018b, 26). Anthropological work on transitional justice (for example Shaw & Waldorf with Pierre Hazan, 2009; Theidon, 2000,

2013), converges with the local turn in peacebuilding, detailing the efforts of former enemies living side-by-side to rebuild communities after civil wars, and the interplay between international and local norms of transitional justice. According to one advocate of anthropological participation in conflict resolution, however, at least as of 2007, the average conflict resolution practitioner would still “be unable to identify any anthropological contribution” to the field, beyond the sense that “culture is important” (Davidheiser & Treitler,

2007, 12).

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Several factors may account for this disconnection: Davidheiser and Treitler suggest that applied work is not “widely acknowledged” or prestigious within the field; academia has a

“tendency…to reward critique rather than advocacy.” Anthropological nuance and jargon do not necessarily translate well into mainstream or practice-oriented literature.2 More fundamentally, they point to a widespread neo-Marxian perspective on conflict as potentially progressive

(Davidheiser & Treitler, 2007). Bräuchler, on the other hand, though advocating for greater involvement by anthropologists in peace and conflict scholarship, finds the absence of anthropological work in peace research unsurprising given its “normative” nature (Bräuchler,

2018a, 26). Remembering bad experiences of the concept of culture being “instrumentalised and manipulated for the sake of colonialism, nation-building, genocide, conflict resolution and the war on terror,” anthropologists, like Bräuchler, may fear ethnographic peace research being used as “yet another tool to be applied by and co-opted into international peace studies” (Bräuchler,

2018a, 23; 2018b, 17).

Yet Millar argues that peace researchers need not “reinvent the wheel” regarding questions of access, ethics, and reflexivity that Anthropology has debated for decades; while anthropologists also have much to learn from peace scholarship regarding the dynamics of conflict, violence, and peace (Millar, 2018a). He argues that ethnographic approaches offer many potential benefits to peace research; these include thick description, the ability to explain the

“why” and “how” of social processes (rather than simply the “what”), reflexivity, the potential for “collaborative and emancipatory” methodologies, and “diversity of methods within a flexible

2 For example, William Ury, co-author of the much-critiqued negotiation classic, Getting to Yes (1981), is an anthropologist, yet the book does not “foreground anthropological themes” and received “scant attention” within anthropology, though it is well-known in other fields (Davidheiser and Treitler, 2007a, 12) and a best-seller.

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approach” (Millar, 2018c, 6-10). A “forceful” ethnographic peace research approach could lead to better understandings of conflict and peace, and uphold “pertinent, salient, grounded” peacebuilding efforts (Millar, 2018c, 6).

1.2.4 Worldviews, Conflict, and Violence

Conflict studies meet culture in the concept of “worldview conflict.” If conflict is what happens “when two related parties—individuals, groups, communities, or nation-states—find themselves divided by perceived incompatible interests or goals or in competition for control of scarce resources” (Avruch, 1998, 24), it is clear that while conflict often concerns matters of objective reality, it is shaped by human perceptions and beliefs. Conflicts, like other human matters, are “shaped by symbolic activities” (Docherty, 2001, 29). In many cases, therefore, conflict goes well beyond “competing interests.” Due to differing “ideologies, values, or cognitive structures,” parties may have quite different “conceptualization[s] of the situation”

(Druckman & Zechmeister, 1973, 450 in Docherty, 2001).

Docherty, following Nudler (1993; also see Nudler, 1990 and Clark, 1989), uses the term

“worldview conflict” to describe such “…conflicts in which the parties appear[] to be speaking different languages and occupying different realities” (Docherty, 2001, 28). She describes a worldview conflict as “a clash of inner worlds, worldviews, senses of reality, or cognitive structures, [which], although largely created and maintained through symbolic activities, are very real.” (Docherty, 2001, 25). These inner worlds include, but go well beyond, values; other scholars have used terms such as “cosmologies” (Douglas, 1996), “cognitive maps”(Laszlo,

Masulli, Artigiani, & Csányi, 1993) “images” (Boulding, 1956), “mindscapes” (Maruyama,

1992) “symbolic universes” (Berger & Luckmann, 1966) “world hypotheses” (Pepper, 1961),

“assumptive worlds” (Frank, 1973) “moral orders” (Pearce & Littlejohn, 1997) or simply 12

“worlds” (Goodman, 1978) (all in Docherty, 2001, 50). For Blechman et al., “worldview conflict” includes “competing ontological commitments and divergent epistemological preferences, as well as conflicting values” (2000, 5); Docherty’s definition also includes an ethical component (2001, 51). Anthropologist Mark Davidheiser suggests that the term

“worldview” better connotes a “nuanced view of culture” than the term “culture” itself, because conflict resolution and other disciplines outside anthropology are less likely to “equate [it] with national, racial, and ethnic identities,” and more likely to understand it as fluid, multidimensional, and “variable both across and within groups” (Davidheiser, 2008, 67).

“Worldviewing” is an active process rather than a static noun, a process not of

“perceiv[ing], more or less accurately, an objectively given and stable reality,” but “to some extent ‘creat[ing]’ …worlds by naming them” (Docherty, 2001, 24). Though the worlds they create vary widely, all humans engage in worldviewing, through a “largely unconscious process of ordering the world and giving it meaning” (Docherty, 2004, 279, 718). Worldviewing is both an individual and social activity; people “manage” worldviews collaboratively through all types of interactions (Docherty, 2001, 50, 52), including conflict encounters.

Worldviews are rarely explicitly articulated, but are “lived,” implicit in cultural expressions such as language, behaviour and institutions (Docherty, 2001, 51; 2004, 718) and often manifested in conflict. Although much conflict resolution writing assumes that participants in conflict resolution processes share “an uncontested, given reality,” many conflicts actually involve competition over reality. “Negotiations over reality” must therefore take place before negotiation of concrete issues has any hope of success, since worldviews cannot be voluntarily or arbitrarily altered or bargained over (Docherty, 2001, 53, 54). Nevertheless, few scholars or practitioners have developed theoretical or practical models for understanding or working with 13

them. Some, who recognize the existence of values conflicts, if not worldview conflicts, prefer to avoid or attempt to circumvent them, knowing that they are not amenable to standard bargaining processes and that hope for progress is slim where values or ideologies are at stake (Carpenter &

Kennedy, 1991; C. W. Moore, 1996; I. Morley & Stephenson, 1977 in Docherty, 2001, 24; see

Drake & Donohue, 1996; Putnam & Holmer, 1992 for exceptions). On the contrary, several authors note that in values conflicts, increased mutual understanding may even make matters worse as those involved come to realize how greatly their viewpoints diverge (Druckman &

Zechmeister, 1973; Pruitt & Carnevale, 1993, 148 in Docherty, 2001, 24).

Docherty, however, advocates for worldview analysis. She suggests exploring “stories, taxonomies, metaphors and institutionalized practices as carriers of…worldmaking,” and observing “unreflective actions and unconsciously chosen language, rather than…deliberately crafted statements of values, opinions, ideologies,” to arrive at a necessarily tentative and imperfect interpretation (2001, 72, 51). She further suggests making use, in conflict resolution processes, of “worldview translators” who understand or partake of conflicting worldviews, and can not only “mediate between…ways of seeing and enacting the world,” but “demonstrate the interaction” between them (Docherty, 2001, 298, 299, original emphasis).

Worldviews do not interact in a power vacuum, however, but within socio-cultural structures that influence control over material, political, and other resources. Worldview analysis, I suggest, must therefore also account for what Galtung calls “structural violence”— violence which does not require an individual act or intention, but which is “built into the

[social] structure and shows up as unequal power and consequently as unequal life chances,” potentially causing as much harm as “direct” or “personal” violence (Galtung 1969, 171). The concept of structural violence, the antithesis of “positive peace” (Galtung, 1969) is foundational 14

to PACS, and has also been widely accepted in anthropology. Though anthropologists in a range of sub-fields consider “the systemic ways in which individuals or groups may be kept from meeting basic needs” (Burrell & Moodie, 2015, 392), medical anthropologists have written on structural violence most explicitly, often emphasizing the bodily manifestations of extreme poverty. Farmer, for example, documents the “social machinery of oppression,” and the poverty, hunger, and sickness that result from militarized violence, resource development (such as a large hydro dam), and the legacy of slavery in Haiti (2004, 305; 1997). Scheper-Hughes examines the

“everyday violence” of life in rural Brazil, where child mortality is so common it is routinized

(Scheper-Hughes, 1993), while Bourgois describes how US inner-city dwellers internalize and express structural violence through domestic and delinquent violence and substance abuse

(Bourgois, 2004).

Structures and policies that determine access to resources and exposure to pollution, and influence relationships to the environment may also be violent, however, and contributors to

Violent Environments “explore the production, enactment, and representation of violence against humans in relation to environment” around the world (Peluso & Watts, 2001, 26), mobilizing a definition of violence that includes “violence within the nonphysical realm,” and the destruction of home, community, and future that may come with alterations to the environment (Peluso & Watts, 2001, 29). Indigenous organizations have increasingly highlighted the particular vulnerability of Indigenous people to the “environmental violence” of extractive industries, given the “links between land and body,” and the potentially “devastating impacts” ranging from “sexual and domestic violence, drugs and alcohol, murders and disappearances [all associated with work camps], reproductive illnesses and toxic exposure, threats to culture and

Indigenous lifeways, crime, and other social stressors” (Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016, 2). 15

Anthropologists writing on violence often point out that violence may be “inherent in particular social, economic, and political formations,” and therefore normalized or

“misrecognized”—not perceived as violence (Scheper-Hughes & Bourgois, 2004a, 21). Systems of violence and domination may appear so natural to all concerned that even the dominated fail to recognize their own domination. Bourdieu’s notion of “symbolic violence,” for instance, refers to “violence which is exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicity” (Bourdieu

& Wacquant, 2004, 272). In contentious environmental conflicts, however, in which affected people recognize and protest the harms imposed on them, the idea that they unconsciously consent may not be entirely applicable. Galtung’s (1990) “cultural violence” retains the aspect of the social legitimization of violence, but does not depend on the consent of those who experience violence. The phrase may not be intuitive; Galtung uses it to mean, not violence against culture, but “those aspects of culture, the symbolic sphere of our existence—exemplified by religion and ideology, language and art, empirical science and formal science (logic, mathematics), that can be used to justify or legitimize…violence” (Galtung, 1990, 291). “Sharp and value-loaded” distinctions between in-group and out-group, or gendered language that erases women by equating human with male, for example, naturalize violence so that it is not seen as such

(Galtung, 1990, 298).

Without referring to cultural violence specifically, scholars, including legal anthropologists, have highlighted the role of language and discourse in maintaining and extending power inequalities and sustaining structural violence. Conley and O’Barr, for example, argue that “language is the essential mechanism through which the power of the law is realized, exercised, reproduced, and occasionally challenged and subverted” (2019, 190), and that the

“purported voice of legal authority is in fact the voice of social power,” showing how certain 16

styles of discourse common in legal and business settings can be used to exclude those who have not mastered them (1990, 170). Merry’s discussion of the measurement and quantification of social phenomena in the production of “indicators” reveals the individual and cultural interpretations and judgements and the power dynamics that go into choosing what to count and how (Merry, 2016). Li suggests that the ascendancy of expert knowledge in international development, for example, leads to an over-reliance on technical solutions to social problems, such that examination of the politico-economic root causes may be endlessly deferred (Li, 2007).

1.2.5 Environmental Conflict

Culture/worldview differences may be implicated within all the nested levels of conflicts of all kinds, in the way the issue is conceptualized, in the ways the parties communicate, and in the way the socio-cultural structure bears on the process and the outcome. Environmental disputes, however, occurring as they do “at the intersection of complex economic, social, legal, political, and ecological issues, [and evoking] deeply held values that lie at the core of many individual and group identities,” are particularly fraught sources of worldview conflict

(Blechman et al., 2000, 5). Blechman et al hypothesized that “profound and largely unrecognized” worldview conflict underlies much environmental conflict, with differing worldviews expressed, for example, through metaphors such as FOREST IS A FARM, FOREST is a MINE, and FOREST IS A WILDERNESS, “shap[ing] a different set of practices and roles in relation to the forest,” holding great potential for discord (2000, 10 original capitalization).

Anthropology and peace and conflict studies thus bring potentially complementary perspectives to environmental worldview conflict, yet here again they have rarely been integrated. Peace studies, when considering environmental conflict, has classically treated it as a variable in the outbreak or duration of armed hostilities. The environmental scarcity model 17

(Homer-Dixon, 1999; Hsiang, Burke, & Miguel, 2013; Koubi, Spilker, Böhmelt, & Bernauer,

2014; Raleigh & Kniveton, 2012), which focuses on the contribution of resource shortages to conflict, has been criticized for its determinism (LeBillon & Duffy, 2018), and disregard for anthropological insights regarding the socio-cultural context of environmental conflict (Peluso &

Watts, 2001; Timura, 2001). Environmental peacebuilding, conversely, emphasizes the potential of environmental cooperation as a foundation for conflict resolution, but nevertheless also considers the environment primarily in terms of material resources (Conca & Wallace, 2009; Ide,

2018; Krampe, 2017).

Writing on environmental conflict in the conflict resolution field (along with environment and policy studies), is largely process- and model-oriented (Dukes, 2004; Harrison & Loring,

2014; O’Leary & Bingham, 2003; Zimmermann, McQuinn, & Macdonald, 2020) with the exception of work on “framing” (C. B. Davis & Lewicki, 2003; Emery, Perks, & Bracken, 2013;

Lewicki, Gray, & Elliott, 2003; Van Leeuwen & Van Der Haar, 2016) and sometimes values

(Estévez, Rodrigo A. Anderson, Christopher B. Pizarro & Burgman, 2015; Schmidtz, 2000).

Hunter (1989) is virtually unique in discussing differences in “ontology, or ‘what is’” as a factor in the intractability of some environmental conflicts.

Anthropologists, on the other hand, have studied environmental conflict in terms of religion, identity, knowledge, morality, discourse, and power relations. A large body of work demonstrates that concerning the environment, as many other matters, human individuals and groups enact an infinite variety of worldviews, and some of this work could be illuminating in conflict situations.

Many scholars, for example, have considered the cultural mediation of the human relationship to the environment, and the collective creation of place in a variety of settings, often 18

in implicit contrast to European ideas of the relationship between “nature” and “society.”3

Though these ethnographies often take place in the context of struggles for control over land and

“resources,” they vary in the extent to which they explore the implications for conflict. Fienup-

Riordan, for example, reports that Yup’ik people “traditionally viewed the human/animal relationship as collaborative reciprocity,” and their relationship with land as “relational” rather than possessive (1990, 167). Basso explores the interaction of place and language in the construction of Western Apache identity, and the way oral narratives create bonds between

Western Apache individuals and the landscape (1996). Similarly, Thornton argues that among the Tlingit, place names and stories, as well as ritual, “integrate person and place,” strengthening identity and social networks (2008, 187). Cruikshank contrasts a European idea of glaciers as purely natural (not social), with Tlingit and Athapaskan oral traditions that portray glaciers as social spaces, even as agents, in a world made and sustained by the reciprocal actions of humans and animate nature; she suggests that the conflicting depictions have consequences for environmental conflict and Indigenous rights (2005).

Others have approached environmental conflict more directly, underscoring the interplay of discourse, identity, knowledge, governance, and power in land issues in Indigenous and non-

Indigenous communities. Li suggests that resource competition was the stimulus for one group of rural Indonesians to “articulate,” (in Hall’s (1996) sense) an indigenous identity, while a nearby group whose land was not sought after did not claim indigenous status (Li, 2000). Muehlmann analyzes how both neoliberal and environmentalist assumptions regarding indigeneity constrain

3 The concept of “nature” or the “environment” as distinct from “culture” and “society” has long been recognized as a Western construct (Descola, 1996; Escobar, 1999; Williams, 2005). People on both sides of the Site C controversy used these terms (along with others such as “development” and “resources”) as a matter of course, however, so I use them mostly uncritically throughout this dissertation. 19

Cucapa indigenous rights and access to resources (2013). Carbaugh explains how a verbal depiction of nature combines socio-cultural messages with a reference to a physical feature

(Carbaugh, 2001), and McElhinny, examining the discursive construction of place in an environmental dispute in southern Ontario, discusses the possibility that environmental discourses may be socially exclusive if they erase Indigenous presence and privilege elite uses of land (2006).

Legal anthropologists have investigated the role of contested governance regimes in land conflict, especially in pluralistic legal settings. Peters (2004), for example, explores the possibility that seemingly flexible and adaptive African customary land tenure systems may actually exacerbate exclusion and social divisions, while Unruh investigates the effect of multiple, informal, sometimes competing “normative orders” regarding land tenure on recovery after civil war (2003, 352).

Escobar points out conflicts that on the surface concern distribution of resources, “exist in the context of economies, cultures, and forms of knowledge,” and that the power differential among various “cultures and cultural practices” may contribute significantly to what he calls

“cultural distribution conflicts” and their physical effects, such as desertification and deforestation (2006, 8). Further, Blaser, in line with a recent anthropological turn to greater attention to “multiple ontologies,” suggests that environmental conflicts that appear to be

“epistemological” in nature, that is, concerned with how “different cultural perspectives see, know, or struggle” for “what is there,” may in fact be “ontological” conflicts over what is actually there. He argues for a “political ontology” capable of embracing “radical multiplicity”

(2013, 21).

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Several ethnographers have taken what might be called a worldview approach to environmental conflict, scrutinizing the interplay of epistemology, ontology, and discourse in

Canadian legal and political fora. Nadasdy, for example, argues that attempts to integrate traditional knowledge with Western science in Yukon wildlife management reproduce existing power relations (Nadasdy, 2003). Daly (2005) applies Bourdieuian analysis to the courtroom in the Delgamuukw land claims case, arguing that Indigenous Gitksan/Wet’suwet’en witnesses were at a disadvantage due to their lack of effective habitus, and concluding that disregard for their epistemologies constituted symbolic violence. Through a close ethnographic reading of legal texts from the same case, Culhane (1998) highlights the Eurocentric “cultural traditions,” and “cultural prescriptions” regarding “visions of nature and society,” and “models of human relationship” embedded in the Crown’s defence and the judge’s decision against the

Gitksan/Wet’suwet’en (22).

In northeastern British Columbia specifically, in two essays, Ridington (1990) underlines the centrality of conflicting values, perceptions, and modes of discourse in land rights cases involving Dane-zaa and Cree people, and the ways that “attempted discourse between different cultures may create conflict, ambiguity, even oppression” (192). He illustrates the gap between the Western legal tradition and the inter-related oral tradition and leadership and decision- making styles in communities with “hunting and gathering heritage” (210), and contrasts a

“cultural intelligence” that relies on the authority of personal observation with one that privileges expert reports.

Finally, a very few researchers have conducted broadly worldview conflict-oriented ethnography with an eye to practical intervention. Satterfield’s research concerns conflict over old-growth forest in Oregon: through participant observation, interviews, and media analysis, she 21

explores how both sides engaged with dominant norms regarding science and emotion in “the assertion of moral priorities and identities” and the struggle to realize their “imagined ideal worlds” (Satterfield, 2002, 4). Farrell (a sociologist using ethnographic and other methods) brings to light the cultural, moral, and spiritual meanings underlying bitter conflicts in

Yellowstone National Park, arguing that the “mountains of technical evidence marshaled” in these conflicts have had little effect on “disputes, that are, finally, not about the facts themselves, but about what make the facts meaningful” (2015, 4). Hirsch, a legal anthropologist and professor of Conflict Analysis and Resolution, and Dukes, a mediator, and director of an Institute for Environmental Negotiation, focus on the experience of stakeholders in the conflict over mountaintop mining in Appalachia, and the identity issues at stake: “who gets to claim to be the people who care for their community, who work hard, who support their families, who protect their children, who prepare for the future, and who preserve their heritage?” (2014, 4). All three works, exceptionally, give equal ethnographic and analytical weight to both sides of the conflict under study. After presenting thick and rich ethnographies, Satterfield and Farrell both conclude with brief comments on the policy implications of their findings. Hirsch and Dukes integrate

“key concepts and theories from the field of conflict analysis and resolution” (5) throughout and assert that lessons learned regarding stakeholders in this context will be relevant to many other environmental conflicts.

While these three works suggest promising ways to combine ethnography and conflict transformation, overall, the promising synergy of anthropology and PACS is underdeveloped.

The concept of worldview conflict paired with ethnographic methods, however, offered a distinctive and untried approach to understanding the Site C conflict.

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1.3 Methodology: Complications of Double-sided Ethnography

Without needing to construct elaborate models of particular worldviews, I wanted to observe the Site C conflict in the knowledge that multiple realities might be competing, which I did not believe had been done before. I thought of my research approach as “double-sided ethnography,” for lack of a better term, meaning simply that I aimed to give equal research attention to the perspectives of both Site C critics and supporters, and to their interactions.

Methods included participant observation in the Peace River region from June 2013 to October

2014, when the environmental certificate for Site C was granted. I conducted semi-structured interviews with 18 opponents and 14 supporters of the project, and some of these interviews included discussion of “key words” and a photo-prompt exercise adapted from Satterfield (2001)

(see Chapter 3). I also attended approximately half of the 28 days of public hearings held as part of the Site C Environmental Assessment process between December 9, 2013, and January 23,

2014.4 In the process, I discovered the challenges of data collection and participant-observation across conflict lines.

1.3.1 Community Participation

The participant-observer role is always a delicate one, and is made even trickier, if not impossible, when multiple antagonistic constituencies are involved. I did not manage true double-sided ethnography, as I explain below. In fact, my double-sided focus—on Site C supporters and opponents—in some ways limited my participation: I held back from associating too closely with either side, thereby reducing my overall depth of engagement. For example,

4 A combination of poor health and logistical considerations prevented me from attending all the hearing sessions, as I had intended. 23

under other circumstances, I might have volunteered with the Peace Valley Environment

Association (PVEA, a non-profit organization founded to fight Site C), but I could hardly have volunteered simultaneously for the pro-Site C equivalent, even if there had been one. In the absence of any neutral Site C-related role that would serve as an entry point, I attended events concerning Site C directly, including government consultation meetings with First Nations,

Regional District meetings, and protests. I canoed the relevant stretch of the Peace River independently and as a participant in the Paddle for the Peace (an annual rally and canoe flotilla).

I also lived in Fort St John, the closest community to the planned dam. I shopped at the grocery store, exercised at the indoor track, read the newspaper, listened to the local radio, hung out at the coffee shop, and briefly worked at a coffee shop myself. I also attended festivals, joined Book Club and Knit Night, volunteered with the Restorative Justice Society, and ushered at the Cultural Centre. I was “disqualified,” though, from the many community events centred around children, hunting, or horses. Moreover, I was not up to hanging out in a bar alone, and so

I missed experiencing this major part of Fort St. John’s identity. At the events I did attend, most of the people I met opposed Site C, so that I initially drew a correlation between community involvement and Site C opposition. I gradually realized, however, that many Site C supporters were also community contributors, but in spheres that were either not available to me or were off my radar, such as schools, recreational sports, service clubs, and charity fundraisers. Had I been involved in these domains, rather than others, my experience of Fort St. John and my perception of the Site C controversy could have been very different. Thus, my own demographics—gender, age, socioeconomic background, lack of children—as well as my personality, influenced my gathering of information.

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1.3.2 Conflict Dynamics

Conflict dynamics further limited my access to the pro- and anti-Site C constituencies.

The most active non-Indigenous Site C opponents were organized and visible. They were easy for me to identify and interact with and, seeking to get their message out, were often eager to be interviewed. Many of them were retired and I met them in their homes over tea on a relaxed timeline. Several lived on land that would be affected by flooding and made a point of showing me “where they were coming from,” in more than one sense. In several cases I returned, not only for follow-up interviews, but also for a chat or meal.

Even the strongest Site C supporters, on the other hand, mostly left promotion of the project to BC Hydro. Many supporters and passive opponents believed that the dam was a “done deal,” no longer subject to public influence. Perhaps for this reason, supporters rarely seemed to feel the need to speak out publicly, so it was not even obvious who they were. I met some pro-

Site C interviewees at networking events for prospective Site C contractors; others were the rare few who had publicly advocated for Site C at some point. They were friendly and helpful, but seemed more interested in doing me a favor than in getting the word out about Site C. Most were working people, and I usually met with them in their offices; in tone and pace these meetings resembled business appointments rather than visits, and we seldom interacted further.

As for BC Hydro, apart from three community relations employees based in Fort St. John and Prince George, Site C staff were based in Vancouver and not available for informal interactions (although I did interview two members of the team). My access to First Nations5

5Throughout this document, I refer to specific First Nations or to individuals’ specific membership wherever possible. Because the “ethno-linguistic grouping within the member First Nations” of the Treaty 8 Tribal Association “includes Sicannie (Sikanni), Slavey, Beaver (Dunne-za) [or Dane-Zaa], Cree, and Saulteau,” (Treaty 8 Tribal Association, n.d.) however, I use the terms First Nation(s) or Indigenous when referring to people or to First 25

people’s perspectives was similarly dependent on public hearings. I conducted few interviews with First Nations members because staff and elders were overloaded with the monumental Site

C consultation process (as well as a multitude of other EA processes) and I could not justify taking their time when so much material, including submissions to the Site C process and investigations into environmental assessments in general was publicly available. Overall, therefore, my contacts were weighted toward non-Indigenous Site C opponents.

1.3.3 Analysis

My analysis draws heavily on the transcripts from interviews with non-Indigenous Site C supporters and opponents, as well as professionally produced and publicly available transcripts from the public hearings, which included presentations by First Nations leaders and community members as well as the general public. I read all the transcripts, (nearly 5000 standard pages or

1,250,000 words), but focused my analysis on the sessions I had attended, with particular emphasis on the non-technical sessions (called “General” and “Community” sessions). Having listened to many of the presentations, and read transcriptions of others, I was able to begin with a general idea of the topics I wanted to cover, such as “cumulative impacts,” “mitigation,”

“family.” I extracted all the passages regarding each topic and conducted a thematic sort, arranging each extract in finer and finer categories until patterns emerged. I followed a similar process with the interview transcripts. I have also drawn on news media, written documents from the Environmental Assessment process, and other public documents where relevant.

Nations collectively or when an individual’s membership is unknown. Note that Dunne-za, Dunne Za, Dunne Tsaa are “synonymous” with Dane-zaa, which is the spelling used by the Dane-zaa Language Authority (Treaty 8 First Nations (T8FNs) Community Assessment Team, 2012, vi). (Also see footnote 24 regarding alternate spellings of Sicannie used by First Nations outside the Treaty 8 Tribal Association). 26

Throughout this process, I was continually struck by the eloquence of the words being spoken, particularly by hearing participants opposing Site C. In fact, I found their words even more poignant as I read them than when I heard them live. Hearing plea after plea for the beloved valley was one thing while speakers had hope they were being heard; it was even more affecting to review these appeals after the decision to proceed with the project had been made.

Like Conley and O’Barr (1990), then, I have presented what may seem an unusual number of quotes, not only to allow others to evaluate my interpretations, but in an “attempt to let the authority of the speech…reside with those who uttered the words,” and because the words of research participants are far “more engaging” than any words of mine (xiv, 8).

In some parts of the analysis, I have combined the viewpoints of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous critics of Site C under a single anti-Site C “umbrella.” I recognize that

Indigenous people and non-Indigenous Canadians differ in their histories and experiences with colonialism, their relationships to government, their legal status, their individual and cultural relationships to land and to environmental issues, and their relationships to pro-Site C local residents (to say nothing of intra-group diversity), and that this gives different dimensions to the conflict for each group, which I do not discount. The evolving dynamics and tensions between

Indigenous people and non-Indigenous advocates in environmental campaigns bears further research.6 There has been a tendency, however (which may have diminished even within the time

6 Willow (2012) discusses constructive developments in Indigenous-Environmentalist alliances in anti-clearcutting activism in Ontario. A team of researchers notes, however, that notwithstanding the “increasing recognition of Indigenous nations as important partners in collaborative environmental projects,” as of 2017, “effective and lasting partnerships are relatively uncommon;” they go on to survey 39 multi-actor collaborations to determine the factors that foster Indigenous engagement in partnerships with non-Indigenous environmentalists (Reo, Whyte, McGregor, Smith, & Jenkins, 2017). 27

span of this project) to treat environmental conflicts in Canada/North America as “environment vs (white) economy,” with questions of Aboriginal or Treaty rights and title as side issues.

I preferred to see the Site C controversy as an integrated worldview conflict in which land rights, land use priorities, economic considerations, and competing perceptions of nature and the common good were interwoven, and in which various actors engaged according to their own positionality; these interactions were my focus. Both yes- and no- “sides” were anything but monolithic, united primarily by their positions on the potential dam. Indigenous and non-

Indigenous activists against Site C coordinated their efforts, however, and while there were significant disparities in their perspectives, the commonalities highlighted the disjunctions between pro and con, and better allowed me to hold “a mirror up to the [dominant] worldview”

(Docherty, 2001, 299), revealing assumptions and beliefs best seen in contraposition.

1.3.4 Symmetrical Anthropology, Engagement, and Conflict Transformation

Drawing on Latour (1993), Docherty proposes worldview analysis as the basis for a

“symmetrical anthropology” that does not privilege dominant worldviews, but treats both (or all) worldviews in conflict as “functionally equivalent worldmaking stories,” (Docherty, 2001, 69, emphasis in original) equally valid and equally contingent. She points out that to do this effectively the analyst must be aware that their own perceptions and actions are also shaped by a particular worldview (2001, 280).

Looking at the worldviews I brought to my exploration of the Site C controversy, on one hand—as a Euro-Canadian, and city dweller with a post-secondary education—I likely share some educational and social background with the Site C team. (There are, in fact, several professional BC Hydro staff in my social circle). Many of our assumptions about the world are undoubtedly shared. Presumably like many members of the Site C team, I fit squarely in the 28

demographic resented by northerners of all persuasions—oblivious urbanites who either a) blithely support the destructive energy projects that fuel their overconsumption, as long as they happen out of sight, in the rural hinterlands; or, b) blithely oppose the necessary energy projects that fuel the economy and support their jobs, because they “don’t know where energy comes from.” Small-town northern society was new to me, and I had had little previous contact with

First Nations’ communities. On the other hand, many of the Peace Region residents with whom I felt the most at home, those who had a higher-than-the-local-average level of education— educators, agriculturalists, scientists with post-secondary degrees—may also have shared some ontological and epistemological assumptions with BC Hydro staff, but other values and beliefs led them, and me, to very different conclusions about Site C. This worldview inevitably affected my interpretations in ways invisible to me; I therefore stress that my interpretations are my own and I do not speak for anyone besides myself.

During my research, I avoided taking an overt position on Site C. As a multi-generational resident, voter, treaty person,7 and electricity user in British Columbia, I have a stake in the ongoing conflict’s outcome, but I did not want to set up an adversarial relationship whereby interviewees felt they needed to convince me of a position. I found that empathic listening created a rapport that drew me into the speaker’s narrative, even if I did not share their opinions, so that the boundary between “mmhmm (I understand what you are saying)” and “mmhmm (I agree),” sometimes blurred, even in my own mind. My objective was to investigate and understand the perspectives that motivated arguments regarding Site C and how they were

7 Meaning that I am subject to the Treaty Eight agreement between the Government of Canada and several dozen First Nations. 29

expressed and taken up in the official decision-making process, not to evaluate the project’s merits. As I lived in the area, interacted with residents, and became more informed, however, I

(perhaps predictably) formed an opinion: that the environmental and agricultural costs, as well as the costs to First Nations rights and culture, outweighed the potential benefits of the dam.

Nevertheless, I strove to listen empathically to pro- and anti-Site C perspectives alike. In so doing, I found that the combination of anthropology and PACS, though challenging, led to conflict insights that had not been publicly articulated previously: First, I reached a greater understanding of the competing visions for the future and views of the human place within the natural environment that were pivotal to the Site C conflict. While both supporters and opponents of Site C who resided in the valley had some relationship to the land, supporters were willing to accept the impacts of the proposed dam in exchange for the opportunity they believed it presented: to use resources for the greater good, to fuel “progress” cost-effectively and without worsening climate change. They saw the impacts of the project, if properly managed, as compatible with their enjoyment of an outdoor lifestyle, and in line with continuous processes of environmental transformation, and even as possible improvements. Site C opponents, on the other hand, often had deeper roots in the area and expressed a stronger attachment to place. Their environmental ethic mandated, not maximizing resource development, but preserving viable and productive ecosystems for humans and other organisms. They regarded anthropogenic changes to cherished and “irreplaceable” landscapes inevitably as degradation; Site C for them represented destruction, waste and loss.

These clashing perspectives carried a moral force that gave impetus to the Site C conflict;

Site C opponents’ language, their imagery of battle and violation, however, pointed to something beyond competing worldviews and moralities—the violence inherent in both the project and the 30

consultation process. Like the WAC Bennett dam before it, the Site C dam would cause avoidable physical and psychological harms to affected First Nations and valley residents, while its purported benefits would primarily land elsewhere. These harms would be especially acute because of Site C opponents’ worldviews and relationships to place—the dam would disrupt their place-based lives and offend their senses of right environmental relations.

Though Indigenous and non-Indigenous opponents of Site C energetically resisted the project, their worldviews and the pro-development worldview(s) did not meet on an equal footing. In addition to the financial and political advantages BC Hydro enjoyed, the techno- rational approach obscured proponents’ biases, while highlighting those of opponents. It dealt with Site C’s impacts individually, rather than as a whole, defusing their severity. Overall, the consultation and EA process suggested that the project would, indeed, be carried out “properly,” though many questions remained unresolved, particularly questions of environmental justice.

The case for Site C as a project in the public interest resonated with a dominant worldview that valued progress and financial stability, while looking to technology to contain environmental impacts. Because the consultation process did not recognize this perspective as a worldview, in competition with other worldviews, however, Site C opponents fought a losing battle in challenging it.

Being consulted demanded much from Site C opponents in terms of financial and personal resources. The process was not equitable, they could not engage on their own terms, and they had good reason to expect that it would ultimately legitimize a foregone conclusion to proceed with a project that would greatly harm their lives and communities; thus, it was disempowering and psychologically distressing. Again, their embattled language testified to the latent violence, in this case of the consultation process. 31

Not only were worldviews at issue in the Site C conflict, but ethnographic attention to

“context” and “structure” as well as conflict “content” (Lederach, 2003, 12) revealed that the conditions of encounter were not just. The official consultation and assessment process discursively and materially favoured pro-Site C perspectives in ways that, I argue, amounted to structural and cultural violence, in support of a project that, because of the harms it would cause affected people, and the inequitable distribution of benefits, would itself be violent.

1.4 Chapter Overview

The opening chapters lay out the ethnographic foundations of the Site C conflict. In

Chapter 2, I present Fort St John, urban centre of the Peace River region, an ugly town in a beautiful geographic setting, in all its contradictions. From the European settlement’s beginnings as a fur trade fort and a farming community, it has expanded into “The Energetic City,” centre of oil and gas extraction, hydro-electric dams, and windfarms. Promoters of the city stress its dynamism and economic opportunities, while many residents decry the stretched social services, and the boomtown inequality, crime, and violence. While promotional literature promises adventure in untouched wilderness, long-time locals lament that industry has overwhelmed nature. Some maintain that the land has been damaged almost beyond repair, yet struggle to preserve what remains, while others simultaneously express love of the land and enthusiasm for expanding industrial development.

Drawing on interviews with pro- and anti-Site C Euro-Canadians, as well as an adaptation of Satterfield’s (2001) “Values Elicitation tools,” in Chapter 3 I consider the question of “feelings for the land,” focusing on Peace Valley residents who support Site C. I describe the experience of implementing one of Satterfield’s tools under very different circumstances than

Satterfield developed them, suggesting that this instrument allowed me to draw out rich and 32

relevant material regarding unconscious worldviewing assumptions regarding human relationships to land, without needing to conceptualize specific questions. The surprising results highlighted my own preconceptions, as well as the integration of the outdoors with daily life. I argue that analysis of the Site C conflict must take into consideration those who fall-in between the stereotypical outsiders who exploit the environment without comprehending the ramifications, and the deep-rooted residents who suffer the negative ecological consequences; that is, it must account for residents who anticipate that Site C will bring benefits and tolerable impacts that will not impede their continued enjoyment of an outdoor lifestyle.

Also based on interviews, Chapter 4 brings into focus the role of worldviews in the Site C conflict. A large-scale, expensive, public-sector energy project with a green mandate, Site C attracted support and opposition that crosscut the cliched environmentalist/resource worker divide. I briefly identify the primary non-institutional (other than BC Hydro) supporters and opponents of Site C and lay out the main arguments for and against the project. I survey literature regarding environmental perceptions, attitudes, and values, before exploring how supporters’ and opponents’ contrasting ideas about nature and place, and about how humans should relate to the environment and to each other informed their views on Site C. Conflicting assumptions about progress, sustainability, the human role in environmental change, and moral obligations regarding the use of resources motivated their positions, and provided bases for justifying or resisting the project.

Following this presentation of opposing viewpoints, my tone and focus shift. I turn from interviews to the hydroelectric history of the Peace Valley and the public decision-making process for Site C, including First Nations in the picture from here on. Beginning in Chapter 5, I make the case that the Site C project would be a manifestation of structural violence. To do so, I 33

link Galtung’s (1969) concept of structural violence with the emerging notion of environmental violence (Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016), which highlights the disproportionate physical and social harms of extractivist development on Indigenous people. I describe the violence of the WAC

Bennett dam, built upriver from Site C in 1968. Through the words of participants at the Site C public hearings, who spoke of the intensive development in the region, including the potential dam, in terms of destruction, war, and rape, I demonstrate that Site C would be a repetition of this violence.

Chapter 6 compares the building of the WAC Bennett dam and the Site C dam through the lens of Galtung’s notion of “cultural violence” (Galtung, 1990). While the WAC Bennett dam was acceptable in its time because of a culturally violent valuation of progress and modernity over the rights and interests of marginalized people, times have changed; BC Hydro cannot carry out an essentially similar project without more robust justification of both the human and environmental impacts, and I argue that the consultation and Environmental

Assessment process served this function. I summarize the evolution of Site C in its current iteration and outline the consultation process that led up to the hearings, detailing the conflicting accounts of its validity. I provide evidence that the process served less to weigh the potential benefits against the harms, than to appear to do so.

The next two chapters delve further into cultural violence, through analysis of the oral interactions at the public hearings, which mostly involved local members of the public and of

First Nations opposed to Site C, and BC Hydro representatives. Chapter 7 examines the asymmetry of the hearing participants’ communicative styles and logics. Those of Site C opponents underlined their personal connection to the issue, the valley, and its human and other inhabitants, while those of BC Hydro dissociated the corporation and its individual 34

representatives from the project and its consequences, so that at times they hardly seemed to be speaking the same language. I argue that these contrasting styles carried unequal weight in the decision-making process and explore the ways that bureaucratic discourse and technical analysis constructed Site C as an unquestionable public good, camouflaging the worldviewing assumptions and political considerations behind the project, and, ultimately, its violence.

Chapter 8 focuses on discussions of project impacts, cumulative impacts and mitigation or compensation plans. Using the concept of “frame narratives” (Docherty, 2001, 66), I demonstrate how Site C opponents, in their attempts to advance their defence of the Peace Valley as a holistic system, struggled against the official narrative, built into the Environmental

Assessment process, of the environment as an aggregation of components. Because the process did not allow for worldview negotiation, this official narrative prevailed, despite opponents’ protests. Thus, BC Hydro successfully portrayed Site C as disconnected from the regional development context and BC Hydro’s own history in the valley, with specific, restricted impacts that could be addressed through technical fixes. I argue that this portrayal downplayed and depoliticized the violence of the project’s effects.

Zooming out slightly, in Chapter 9 I compare the language of the public hearings with the structural context in which they took place. Site C opponents’ combative imagery contrasted surprisingly with BC Hydro’s collaborative and appreciative oral communications, but accorded better with the corporation’s written submissions, in which they “doubled down” on their arguments and refuted opposing views. I argue that this combative imagery reflected the real, if hidden, violence embedded not only in the Site C project, but in the consultation and EA process itself, and discuss the ways the known, usual weaknesses of EA processes were aggravated in this case. I conclude that this decision-making process, which would allocate resource benefits 35

and harms, was financially, politically, and discursively weighted in favour of the proponent and against the valley residents who opposed the project; it was for them a burden as much as an opportunity.

In the concluding chapter, I review the case for Site C as a violent project, supported by a structurally and culturally violent consultation and decision-making process. I underline the value of ethnography of conflict, particularly environmental conflict, and suggest a need for further research that takes environmental violence seriously as violence. I discuss the complexities of balancing obligations to research participants with a conflict transformation orientation where sincere worldview differences are entangled with systemic violence, concluding that the concept of worldview translation offers a way through the dilemma.

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The Peace River Valley and the Energetic City: Opportunity and

Impact

2.1 The Peace

Yellow is the Peace Country’s colour. Around May, not long after the snow is really gone, it blazes with millions of yellow dandelions; by July, it is fluorescent yellow with canola and roadside wildflowers. As summer goes on, the landscape mellows to the blonde of dry grass and ripe hay. By fall, the aspens are incandescent against the endless blue sky, luminous yellow tempered with flaming and rusty orange, as if giving off their own light. Much of the year, the valley is white, of course—dull, flat white or sparkling blue white. On June 22, 2013, however, looking down from the Peace River Valley Viewpoint, the valley spread out below us was a warm golden green.

From Vancouver, my partner and I had driven nearly 1200 kilometres northeast, through a torrential downpour that caused historic flooding, on through the Cariboo where all the roadside businesses were boarded up and abandoned since the pine beetle killed the forest economy, and a day’s travel beyond Prince George, which many southern British Columbians think of as northern BC. Our destination was Fort St John, where I would conduct research on the controversy over the proposed “Site C” hydroelectric dam.

At Chetwynd, we had picked up Highway 29, entering “the Peace.” We met the Peace

River where it flows out of the Williston Reservoir, through the WAC Bennett Dam and the

Peace Canyon Dam just west of Hudson’s Hope, and followed it roughly northeast through its remaining heartland, toward Fort St John. Narrow, two-laned, frequented by trucks, and without a guard rail, the highway is scary but gorgeous. Winding side-to-side and up and down from the

37

river flats to the plateau, it had brought us to this lookout. Though we did not realize it at the time, this was part of the area to be flooded by the proposed dam, which would create an eighty- three-kilometre reservoir, widening the river by as much as three times, and putting 5660 hectares of land (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2013d, 9) under water.

For the moment, however, we saw a slow, steady river, flanked by gentle slopes, mostly forested on the far (southern) side, mostly fields on the near (northern) side. Striped sedimentary rock was exposed where the banks were too steep for vegetation. A few small islands lay mid- river, one or two large enough for trees, the others simply sand bars. At the viewpoint with us were a couple on a motorcycle, and another in a motorhome; otherwise there was no visible human activity: no people, vehicles, or structures in sight or earshot on land or water. The quiet and the warmth of the sun induced a deep calm, a sense of security from cold or threat or hurry.

The Peace River Valley seemed to be living up to its name; the bucolic scene gave no hint of the boomtown almost literally around the next bend, nor of the intense resource development and associated environmental changes, social tensions, and worldview clashes that were the background to Site C.

2.1.1 Centre of Abundance

From above, to the untrained eye, the Peace Valley appears to be a pleasant, but simple blend of grain fields, grass and undifferentiated forest (aspens, spruce, lodgepole pine, and cottonwoods along the riverbanks); in reality it is far more remarkable. The boreal, eastern plains, montane and alpine ecosystems converge and interpenetrate in the valley, generating biodiversity that made a botanist’s eyes pop (S. Cox, 2018, 161, 173). Scientists are increasingly

38

suggesting that, as the Beaver and Sicannie8 First Nations have always maintained, parts of the valley remained ice-free during the most recent glaciation (S. Cox, 2018, 159). Perhaps as a result, the valley hosts a surprising number of “outliers”—plant, animal, and insect specimens at or beyond the extreme edge of their species’ usual range (S. Cox, 2018, 159). Unusual in flowing east-west rather than north-south, the Peace is the only river between Yellowstone National Park in the US and the Yukon that crosses the Rocky Mountains, making its valley an important wildlife corridor connecting the Central Canadian Rockies and the Muskwa-Kechika Ecosystem to the north (Apps, 2014).

The valley contains a striking variety of micro-ecosystems, 17 of which are vulnerable to extinction, even without considering a dam (as documented by BC Hydro, in S. Cox, 2018, 174).

The old-growth forest, though less picturesque than that of the coastal Great Bear Rainforest, may be even more ecologically significant because it is much less abundant (S. Cox, 2018, 162).

The valley also contains an exceptional concentration of rare tufa seeps, “moss-covered hillsides with arresting limestone formations and pools of crystal-clear water,” formed by moss growing on calcium carbonate deposits over thousands of years (S. Cox, 2018, 174), that look straight out of a fairy tale. Five of seven of these tufa seeps would be “directly affected” by Site C, and a sixth would be crossed by the associated transmission line (BCH, 2013e, Vol. 2, 13-18).9

The Peace Lowlands are considered a “centre of abundance” for several species of birds, and the region’s wetlands, ponds, and “slow-moving streams” provide first-rate habitat for migrating waterbirds, including species which are otherwise rare in British Columbia (Demarchi,

8 This is a spelling used on the Treaty 8 Tribal Association website (Treaty 8 Tribal Association, n.d.); see footnote 24 for spellings used by other First Nations. 9 As of July 2020, two of these tufa seeps have been logged or “destroyed” (Wong, 2020). 39

2011, 130); they have been designated as a “biodiversity hotspot” under the International

Convention on Biological Diversity of 2010, in large part because of the variety of birds that they harbour (Churchill, 2018, 83, 87). Birders from around the world travel to Chuu

Ehle/Watson Slough to spot endangered and vulnerable species. The slough also provides habitat for the at-risk Western Toad as well as rare and vulnerable plants. A marl fen, the rarest type of wetland in North America, with highly diverse vegetation, also occurs in the slough (S. Cox,

2018, 172), but would be inundated by Site C (BCH, 2013e, 13-18).

The micro-climate of the low-lying, south-facing slopes not only supports “rare, rare species of plants,” (Interviewee 4, 11/28/2013), including the “most northerly cactus in the world”—a variety of prickly pear—but offers refuge to wildlife. The climate is milder and snowfall is lighter in the Peace Lowlands than in neighbouring areas (Demarchi, 2011), and as farmers from the Peace Valley explain, “whenever a massive spring storm hits, the songbirds all show up in our fields because it is the only low elevation land with a milder microclimate. We will have bare ground up here and up top, they’ll be under 8 inches of snow. There were so many songbirds last spring, the traffic on the Highway 29, which goes through our place, had to slow down for them” (Ken and Arlene Boon in Penn, 2013).

This “exceptionally favourable microclimate” also combines with “exceptionally good soils” along the valley bottom to yield unusual agricultural potential (Holm, 2018, 97; Sawicki,

2018). Summers are short at this latitude —the Fall Fair happens in mid-August—but northern summer days are long, so Peace River gardeners who plant during the May long weekend actually get an effectively longer growing season than southerners. As well as the grains, grasses and oilseeds that currently dominate, the Peace River Valley is capable of producing “all the crops” grown in the fertile Fraser Valley in southwestern British Columbia, such as corn, 40

tomatoes, and even cherries and eggplant, with even higher productivity; it has been estimated that the farmlands that would be inundated by Site C are capable of producing sufficient vegetables for one over one million people, in perpetuity (Holm, 2018).

It would have been pleasant to stay longer, looking down on this pastoral and unique valley, but after hours in the car, we were ready to reach our destination. Leaving the viewpoint, we drove on through a variegated landscape of green fields and darker woods. Sparse traffic, mostly trucks, and an occasional farm building were the only signs of human presence visible from the road. After about fifteen kilometres, the river turned east, to continue across the Alberta border, then north, joining the Athabasca River at the Peace-Athabasca Delta to form the Slave

River flowing into Great Slave Lake, which in turn is drained by the Mackenzie River, running through the Mackenzie Delta to the Beaufort Sea. The highway, however, continued northeast.

Driveways became more frequent, though houses were still rarely seen. Another 15 kilometres and we were at Charlie Lake.

2.2 The Energetic City

2.2.1 Fort St John: “What Did I Do Wrong?”

Highway 29 meets Highway 97, the Alaska Highway, at Charlie Lake. By turning left

(northwest) we could have continued through the same rolling green countryside, but we turned right (southeast), into the outskirts of Fort St John, where we abruptly became aware of the reality of the human presence in the Peace River Region. Evidence of habitation in the region goes back 10,500 years (Fladmark, Driver, & Alexander, 1988; Ridington & Ridington, 2013), but the population density was low until Europeans arrived in the late eighteenth century. Today, the 12-million hectare area south of the 58th parallel, east of the Rocky Mountains and west of the Alberta border is part of the Treaty Eight territory (which extends from northeastern BC, 41

across the northern half of Alberta and into the Northwest Territories and northern

Saskatchewan) and home to the signatory Blueberry, Doig, Halfway, Saulteau, and West

Moberly First Nations, as well as the Tsay Keh Dene and Kwadacha First Nations (Brody, 1982;

Fumoleau, 1976; Government of British Columbia, n.d.-b; Ridington & Ridington, 2013). The area is also home to the more than 58,000 residents of the Peace River Regional District (PRRD)

(Peace River Regional District, n.d.-c), including the cities of Fort St John and Dawson Creek, and the town of Hudson’s Hope, as well as several smaller towns and rural electoral areas.10

As the Visitor’s Guide proudly declares, “Since its beginning in 1794 as a trading post,

Fort St John has continuously grown with the completion of the Alaska Highway in 1942 and the discovery of high-grade oil in 1951, setting the city’s course as British Columbia’s Oil and Gas

Capital”, and it is now the “largest city in British Columbia’s northeast region” (“Fort St John

(FSJ) 2014 Visitor Guide,” n.d., 1). As we approached the town centre, I remembered all the people who had asked me why on earth I wanted to do my field work there, of all places.

Looking around at the fleets of trucks and graveled heavy equipment yards behind chain link fences that line the highway between Charlie Lake and Fort St John, my heart sank and my stomach knotted, and I had no answer.

In town, flat-roofed, utilitarian buildings are set on paved or dirt yards, making the wide dusty streets seem even wider. Trucks are everywhere. There are no grassy boulevards, and the spindly trees along the sidewalks hardly register. At 100th Street and 100th Avenue, the centre of town, a vacant lot on one corner dominates, distracting attention from the North Peace Cultural

10 Chetwynd, Pouce Coupe, Taylor, and Tumbler Ridge, as well as rural electoral areas ‘B,’ ‘C,’ ‘D,’ and ‘E’ (Peace River Regional District, n.d.-a)

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Centre (library, community centre and theatre), and the non-descript bank and coffee shop on the other corners. Centennial Park, though lovely in June with peonies and roses, is not enough to improve the overall effect.

I was not alone in finding Fort St John unattractive: when former mayor Steve

Thorlakson’s employer transferred him there in 1979, his first reaction was “What did I do wrong?” (Stodalka, 2014b). More recently, during public consultations, residents expressed displeasure with the state of downtown, and the City Manager admitted that “mattresses, clothing, liquor bottles, that sort of thing are very much in view (in alleys) when you’re in the downtown area” (Stodalka, 2014c). The City also got an earful on Facebook, with comments like

“This town is ugly...truth hurts. For a town with so much money you could never tell…It’s a great oil town but it’s missing a few things” (response to City of Fort St John, 2014a).

With industrial development intensifying in the surrounding area, finding space for a growing population of workers in the city is challenging. New residential developments are continuously being built, and the city has even expanded its boundaries to accommodate more people. Nevertheless, “single-family” homes often accommodate “three guys upstairs and three guys downstairs and six (trucks) out on the road,” (Stodalka, 2014a). In more upscale subdivisions, shiny pickup trucks, motorhomes, motorboats, “quads” (four-wheeled all-terrain vehicles) and jet skis in summer, snowmobiles in winter occupy the driveways. Many of these neighbourhoods still look raw, not yet mellow with large trees and mature gardens, and seem strangely quiet, with no one mowing the lawn and no children playing. In short, on the surface,

Fort St John looks like a small town that suddenly grew into an industrial centre, bursting at the seams, and too busy covering the basics, to worry about niceties.

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Conditions in Fort St John during the period of my fieldwork closely resembled those described in the rural sociology literature that has focused on “energy boomtowns,” since the

1970s. This literature suggests that resource development, and particularly the rapid population growth that tends to occur along with it, typically induce both positive and negative socio- economic, as well as environmental, changes (reviewed in Wynveen, 2011). Economic activity increases, benefiting some more than others; facilities for entertainment and recreation often improve, and employment opportunities multiply. At the same time, the cost of living rises, physical infrastructure and social services are strained, and individual mental health and well- being may decline, while crime often goes up. Environmental impacts include shrinkage of wildlife habitat, degeneration of air quality, “aesthetic degradation,” and “limitations to alternative land uses” (Wynveen, 2011, 9). While many Fort St John and Peace region residents no doubt saw all of these changes affecting their communities, for better and worse, some were excited about the benefits of growth, while still others found the social repercussions to be negative, even violent, and the environmental impacts overwhelming.

2.2.2 “A Powerhouse of Opportunity”

2.2.2.1 Economic Activity

While resource extraction began in the area in the late 18th Century with the fur trade, the population of the area expanded beginning in the 1920s with larger-scale settlement and farming, and expansion has greatly accelerated since the 1950s when oil and gas production began in the region. There have been ups and downs since, but in 2013 when I began my research, the area was booming. As the Fort St John Chamber of Commerce points out, the North Peace Region is a major contributor to the provincial economy: with only two percent of the provincial

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population, the region’s resource sector contributes nine percent of provincial exports (Fort St

John Chamber of Commerce (FSJ CoC), 2015, 18).

The Peace has traditionally been, and remains, a significant agricultural region, the most northerly in Canada (FSJ CoC, 2015, 21). The region produces almost ninety percent of British

Columbia’s grain and ninety-five percent of its canola, with ranching also prevalent. Forestry, also an industry of long standing in the Fort St John/Peace River Region, employed approximately 600 people in 2015 (FSJ CoC, 2015, 21, 31). Tourism is also significant in the region, capitalizing on both history and outdoor environment. Approximately half a million visitors per year are attracted to the region by the Alaska Highway, fur trade and First Nations history, and outdoor activities, including specifically northern activities such as snowmobiling and dog sledding (FSJ CoC, 2015, 21).

It is oil and gas, however, that turned a small farming community into a boomtown, and continues to “drive” the local economy (FSJ CoC, 2013, 14). The Peace River region overlies one of the largest natural gas deposits in North America (FSJ CoC, 2013, 15). As of 2013, there were 17,000 oil and gas wells in the region (FSJ CoC, 2013, 15); however, the Montney and

Horn River Basin gas “plays” (gas fields, or clusters of fields) in northeastern BC are the

“nexus” of supply for planned liquefied natural gas (LNG) plants on the west coast. In line with a

2013 election promise, the provincial government committed to having three LNG plants in operation by 2020 (FSJ CoC, 2015, 18); although as of early 2021, only one LNG plant is under construction, with three more under development or review (Government of British Columbia,

2021), if fulfilled, these projects would have “staggering” implications for employment and the economy in Fort St John and neighbouring areas, with industrial activity projected to increase by

200% (FSJ CoC , 2015, 24, 18). If the “huge shale gas finds” were indeed to lead to the expected 45

80,000 jobs in Fort St John, Dawson Creek and Fort Nelson within twenty-five years, “our population will have to nearly quadruple… and this has huge impacts for growth in all of our industries and communities going forward” (North Peace Economic Development Commision, in FSJ CoC, 2013, 18).

Fort St John calls itself “the Energetic City,” because although oil and gas dominate, the

Peace Region is uniquely supplied with resources for virtually all known forms of energy generation. Three proposals for coal mines in the Hudson’s Hope area, while still hypothetical in

2013, if realized would bring approximately 13,000 people into the region (2500 workers and their families) to exploit 50-year reserves (FSJ CoC, 2013, 14). Though fossil fuels may be “a big part of the future of the North Peace,” as the Chamber of Commerce has it, “our region is also excited about the many opportunities for alternatives to fossil fuels” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 18).

The Peace Region’s location, “nestled on the east side of the Rocky Mountains” (FSJ CoC, 2015,

18), along with its “high quality” (consistent) wind, make it a promising location for the expansion of wind energy, and, due to the sunny climate, the prospects for solar energy are better than the northern setting might suggest. Wind farming is underway and growing, and solar power development is also being explored (FSJ CoC, 2015, 18, 29).

2.2.2.2 Hydroelectricity/Site C

The Peace has also long been a centre of hydroelectricity. BC Hydro’s WAC Bennett

Dam, the largest hydroelectric dam in British Columbia, and Peace Canyon Dam, both located on the Peace River near Hudson’s Hope, produce a total of forty percent of the province’s electricity (FSJ CoC, 2013, 21). The two dams are also significant tourist attractions, and BC

Hydro is a dominant employer in Hudson’s Hope.

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In 2007, BC Hydro brought forward a proposal, not for the first time, for a third hydroelectric dam on the Peace River, “The Site C Clean Energy Project” to be located seven kilometres south of Fort St John. Though much smaller in size than the WAC Bennett dam, it is estimated that it would create up to 35,000 direct and indirect jobs throughout the project life, including 10,000 person-years of employment during the ten-year construction phase (FSJ CoC,

2015, 19). The project was approved by the provincial and federal governments in late 2014.

In all, by 2015, Fort St John was preparing for fifty-seven major industrial projects, including Site C and LNG projects, with the corresponding demand for workers—up to five thousand permanent and 18 thousand provisional (Stodalka, 2015)–and housing; from a housing vacancy rate of only three percent, the real estate market was expected to grow by one hundred percent by 2020 (FSJ CoC, 2013, 15).

2.2.2.3 “Explosive Growth”

Reporting on the economic picture, the Chamber of Commerce speaks in superlatives, as

Chambers of Commerce tend to do: the region contains “natural gas deposits among the largest in North America” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 21); LP Building products operates “one of the largest

[Oriented Strand Board] mills in the world;” the WAC Bennett Dam is the “the largest man- made reservoir in North America” and, at 183 metres high, “one of the world’s highest earth filled dams,” while Site C would be the “largest capital project in the history of British

Columbia.” Many of the oil and gas “industry’s largest companies are operational in the region”

(FSJ CoC, 2015, 31, 16, 29, 24, 16, 22).

Particularly concerning the oil and gas industry, the language of the Chamber of

Commerce and other local promoters emphasizes not only size, but force, speed, growth, movement, (sometimes all at once, as in an explosion), as well as excitement, even urgency. In 47

the Community Guide, The North Peace Economic Development Commission starts off with its ad: “Here. We. Grow!” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 4). The mayor continues: “With over $68 billion in recent investment… and anticipated exponential growth, we are firing on all cylinders economically” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 6). “Oil and gas exploration and production is moving at a record setting pace” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 24); “the Montney and Horn River unconventional gas plays are massive prospects that are reshaping Canada’s petroleum sector” (Oil & Gas Inquirer in

FSJ CoC, 2015, 18); “in anticipation of these projects, there has recently been a flurry of activity in Northeastern BC” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 26). As a result of these and other projects, the real estate market is “surging,” and “the region is ripe for developers who can act quickly and capitalize on this fast-paced environment…as the regional population explodes” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 44, 21).

Contemplating an oil and gas boom, Bill Streeper, mayor of the Northern Rockies Regional

Municipality, immediately north of the PRRD, wondered, “You’ve got a stick of dynamite, and it’s lit, so when’s the fuse going to burn out?”(Wakefield, 2015a).

2.2.2.4 Getting It Done in a Tight Labour Market

“Is our future bright? You bet it is!” All this economic activity makes Fort St John a

“powerhouse of opportunity,” not only for companies in the oil and gas industry, but for people

(FSJ CoC, 2015, 8, 38). The Fort St John official community plan notes that “many residents have chosen Fort St. John for the same reason as the European forefathers of the community: opportunity” (City of Fort St John (City of FSJ), 2011, 20). Aspiring young civil servants and professionals, as well as oil and gas workers, find they can land positions of responsibility in the northeast, when they cannot get a foot in the door in the south.

Sixteen percent of the total labour force, or more than 2100 jobs, in Fort St John are in oil and gas extraction, and an additional 3700 jobs in retail, construction, food service, and the 48

professions are indirectly linked to oil patch income (Statistics Canada, 2006 in City of FSJ,

2011, 6). Wages in the oil and gas industry are high; an industry insider reported that “people with no skills at all” start at eighteen to twenty-two dollars an hour, whereas anyone who is

“even semi-skilled” makes ten to fifteen thousand dollars a month (Fieldnotes 7/30/2014), and the most in-demand employees may earn as much as fifty-eight dollars an hour (Dyck, 2015).

At those wages, the oil and gas industry, always thirsty for workers, easily sucks them from other sectors. Finding and keeping staff is one of the biggest frustrations for local businesses, even in the oil and gas industry, and is doubly difficult for retail and service employers. Why work in a coffee shop for minimum wage when you can make almost double working for “industry?” As a result, there are many job opportunities in most fields in Fort St

John, and the qualifications required are often much lower than would be sought in major cities.

The exceptionally tight labour market (Dyck, 2015), also means, however, that employees in all sectors often feel overloaded. Because of the large sums of money involved in whatever they do, the oil patch “wants it done yesterday,” as a long-time resident observed. In other sectors, work is often spread among too few workers, and contrary to what might be expected in a small town, people are always in a hurry, “going around with their hair on fire” (Interviewee 21, 10/2/2014).

But the get-it-done spirit makes the town what it is, according to some: the “ability to be innovative and seize opportunities” creates a “key sense of place and is what gives Fort St John its heart” (City of FSJ, 2011, 13). Politicians and town promoters are not the only ones who see

Fort St John as a place of activity, energy, and excitement; participants in a Downtown Design

Workshop used words such as “pioneering,” “can-do,” “bustling,” “wealthy,” “entrepreneurial,”

“hardworking,” “eager,” “frenzied,” “thriving,” “aggressive,” “focused,” and “innovative,” to

“capture the spirit of Fort St John” (City of FSJ, 2014a). 49

2.2.2.5 “A Place to Raise a Family and Enjoy a High Quality of Life”

The City of Fort St John and the Chamber of Commerce emphasize that Fort St John offers an appealing lifestyle, as well as financial opportunity: “there’s more to Fort St John than just business. This city is a great place to visit and play, and offers a uniquely rich concentration of historical, cultural and natural resources” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 38). They promote the City’s

“topnotch” recreational facilities and festivals (FSJ CoC, 2015, 6), and point out that locals

“showcase our spirit through the vibrant arts community with music, theatre, museums and art…There is an enormous range of clubs for every interest—from curling to horticulture to stock car racing” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 6). The City encouraged residents to focus not on the physical unattractiveness of the town, but quality of life, on the

“most amazing scenery in BC? How cool is it that you can go cross country skiing only a minute from town (embrace those winter sports)? How cool is it that we have an indoor running track that is free? And, oh my, the nicest people you will ever meet. People here shovel walks for each other, stop and offer rides to people who look like they need one and say good morning when they pass you on the street. AND the only traffic jam is in the drive-thru at Tim Hortons. Pretty nice way of life (City of FSJ, 2014a).”

Many residents agree that “the people of the North live here because they like it. It’s a place to start a small business or secure employment and also a great place to raise a family and enjoy a high quality of life” (unattributed quote, FSJ CoC, 2015, 14). Some associated Fort St

John with words such as “warm, home, breathtaking, greenspaces, fun, winter city, honest, friendly, generous, comfortable, sunshine, interesting, and optimistic” with (City of FSJ, 2014a).

Joe Breti’s experience is typical of many throughout the Peace: “I came up to Dawson

Creek in November of 1959. It was supposed to be for two weeks, then it was for two months, then it was two years and I said ‘to hell with it I’ll just stay here’”(Wakefield, 2015a) Coming to the Peace “on the two-year plan” to get a job and save up some money, and still being there 50

fifteen years later has become a cliché. Some “get addicted to the money” and the property they can buy with it, but others surprise themselves by falling in love with the lifestyle and putting down roots.

2.2.2.6 “Just Here on the Surface”

On the other hand, Northeast BC came “dead last” in a Statistics Canada survey that asked residents of fifty-eight Canadian economic regions to rate how satisfied they were with their lives. A happiness researcher suggested that a lack of healthy social relationships, along with economic inequality leading to “cancerous” comparisons (such as struggling service sector employees might make with wealthy oil and gas workers) might largely account for the low score (Wakefield, 2015b).

The oil and gas industry has a profound impact on the social dynamics of the town: because of the availability of industry jobs, there are many people living in and around Fort St

John who do not really “live” there, that is, they are not emotionally or socially “invested” in the town— “a lot of people are just here on the surface,” as a local artist put it. With short-to- medium term professionals living in town, with some multi-generational residents—Indigenous people or the children and grandchildren of farmers—working in oil and gas, and with workers who came for industry jobs settling down long-term, there is a spectrum, rather than a hard line, between locals and “transients.” Nevertheless, a perceived division exists, and a sense that

“there’s an attitude, an arrogance, of people who come into this region, and… extract the money,” as a recent, but committed, resident put it (Interviewee 31, 7/23/2015). “A lot of people don’t call this city home that’s why they think it’s ugly. They are here to work and make money and I think that’s the real “ugly” truth. But I am happy here! I love it here!” commented a resident on Facebook (City of FSJ, 2014a). 51

“Oil patch people” also come and go quickly; one teacher noticed that out of a class of

25 or so Grade 1 students, only two were still at the school by Grade 7 (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014).

This mobility, combined with discrepancies in work hours and income, and differences between people who grew up in the region and recent arrivals, makes it difficult to develop friendships.

While one young columnist found “a community filled with welcoming people, abundant opportunity, any activity we could possibly want, beautiful landscapes and a chance for us, a young family just getting our feet under us, to truly get ahead” (Zwambag, 2015), others tell a different story. “It’s hard to meet people if you have hobbies other than hunting, quadding, or work in oil and gas. Lots of people move here for work, everybody works. That’s what they do”

(Wakefield, 2015b).

2.2.2.7 Poverty and Violence

Community non-profit organizations in 2014 named “rapid economic development straining services,” crime and violence, lack of affordable housing, shortage of health care workers, and drug and alcohol use as among the most pressing issues facing Fort St John

(Fieldnotes, 5/3/2014). Transients, and the oil and gas industry in general, also take much of the blame for these negatives of life in Fort St John. For one thing, many workers live in temporary industrial camps (“man-camps”) while on-shift and have their homes of record elsewhere.

Provincial government funding allocations, however, are based on permanent population; workers who are present in the area but live elsewhere “officially” are not counted. Yet while in the region, they draw on social services such as health care, police, and infrastructure like recreational facilities and roads; funding is thus inadequate for the actual number of people being served. At the same time, the high cost of living plays a part in the lack of health care professionals in the region. The mayor of Fort St John is reportedly on record as saying that if 52

the region does not receive more resources for social services and infrastructure Fort St John will

“fall apart.”

Moreover, oil workers as a group have a disproportionate impact on the social fabric. For all the town’s efforts to provide an appealing lifestyle in addition to financial opportunities, there are few facilities or activities to keep young men with disposable income and few family ties busy in their off-time, other than bars and strip clubs. The rate of criminal charges per capita in

Fort St John in 2014 was almost double that of Vancouver (Amnesty International, 2016b, 50), a city roughly 30 times the size. City Councillor Byron Stewart was not alone in attributing the city’s high rate of drug crime to “a young and transient population with a lot of money in their pockets” who often live in camps, but “come into our town and play” (Prepost, 2014a).

The money itself can be a mixed blessing. Opportunities to earn high wages in the oil patch have been linked with the region’s high high school dropout rate. In 2015, at 66 percent, the Grade 12 completion rate in Fort St John and surrounding area was in the bottom five of

BC’s sixty school districts; the School District Superintendent explained that “at that age they see a greater value to pulling down a paycheck than pulling down grades” (Crites, 2013). The money earned sometimes goes to “good things,” but much of it goes to “drugs. Or big trucks,” at least according to community belief.

For workers who do have families, the camp lifestyle can be like “golden handcuffs,” with overall family well-being sacrificed to the high income, and long absences of one partner, usually a man, straining marriages (Anselmi & Dyck, 2014; Corpuz & Earl, 2013). Oil patch incomes, though high, can also be very seasonal. A young mother explained that her husband makes “killer money,” but only for half the year; in the summer, when the work drops off “I tell my kids we have to tighten our straps.” Averaging their income over the entire year, they can 53

afford to live in a trailer, given the high cost of housing in the area. Many families need two incomes to get by (Fieldnotes, 5/3/2014).

High salaries in the oil patch drive the cost of living up for everyone, and it can be difficult for workers in other sectors, or those on fixed incomes, to make ends meet. The 2008 median yearly household income in Fort St John was approximately $15,000 more than the BC average; however, there is a “significant disparity” between energy sector and other incomes

(Statistics Canada, 2006 in Community Plan, 2011, 6). While many have disposable income for the spacious houses and “big toys” (mostly motorized vehicles—ATVs, jetskis, snowmobiles, motorboats, motorhomes), the restorative justice association reported cases of seniors and youth who fell through the cracks of the over-stretched social services stealing meat and cheese to feed themselves. With the boom town landlord’s market a “recipe for skyrocketing rents,” (Reanna

Shular of the Women’s Resource Society in Mills, 2013b) some people are forced to take shelter wherever they can find it, and I more than once climbed over a person sleeping in the stairwell of my apartment building. According to Connie Greyeyes, grassroots activist for missing and murdered women and their families, “either you have it made or you're one of the ones that are unfortunate and lives on the street, or has to rely on foodbanks to get by. That's the way it is here” (Amnesty International, 2015).

Women are particularly vulnerable. Though incomes for men are high compared to the rest of the province, the average income for women is below the provincial average. The Fort St

John Women’s Resource Society cites this wage disparity (which is almost double the national average (Amnesty International, 2016b, 41)), as well as “traditional views of family, isolation, a highly transient population, and drug and alcohol abuse” to explain the high rate of domestic violence in the city. The top issue, however, was lack of affordable housing (Prepost, 2014b). 54

Greyeyes points out that women in abusive relationships often stay because they cannot afford to leave. Work as a restaurant server doesn’t “feed your child and put a roof over your head,” and service agencies such as the Women’s Resource Centre are “spread so thin.” “It's a terrible, terrible way to live for the women here. I've had people in my life who have men who I know have said, 'What's she going to do? Nothing. She has to take it because I'm the one that makes the money’” (Amnesty International, 2015). Many women are “just one argument with their spouse away from being on the streets,” a social services worker said (Amnesty International,

2016b, 43).

Workers’ lack of social ties is also directly connected to high rates of violence against women. Greyeyes’ involvement with the Women’s Resource Centre brought home to her the

“astronomical” levels of violence “women in the region have experienced at the hands of complete strangers,” because “It’s very easy to be an unknown in this town. You can commit a crime and no one knows who you are” (Amnesty International, 2015). A concentration of young men (statistically more likely to commit violent crime) (Amnesty International, 2016b), and a

“hyper-masculine” camp culture, linked to misogyny and drug and alcohol consumption, exacerbate the problem (G Gibson et al., 2017,15; Eckford & Wagg, 2014, 24; also see Amnesty

International, 2016b).

Indigenous women disproportionately experience this violence. A research survey found that of women surveyed, overall 78 percent had experienced violence, but that 93 percent of

Indigenous women respondents had experienced violence (Eckford & Wagg, 2014, 20); violence—in the home, workplace, or other social settings— is, “for many Indigenous women and girls in the northeast…so pervasive it has become normalized” (Amnesty International,

2016b, 4). Fourteen women in Connie Greyeyes’ own life have disappeared or died by violence. 55

(Wakefield, 2015c). Racism and misogyny, combined with economic factors, contribute to the targeting of Indigenous women. As activist Helen Knott explains, industry workers’ “economic power emboldens them to express racist and sexist attitudes they might suppress elsewhere”

(Amnesty International, 2016,b 51). At the same time, support services that would decrease the risk of violence or address its effects, such as women’s shelters, food banks, and counselling services, are “in crisis,” and law enforcement resources are insufficient (Amnesty International,

2016b, 4; Eckford & Wagg, 2014).

The perceived inadequacy of the government response to the serious social issues that accompany rapid resource development intensified locals’ resentment over the phenomenon of

“unseen in the North,” otherwise known as “the province stops at Prince George.” A frequent grievance across the political spectrum in the Peace Region, it suggests that the people “down south” don’t even know where Fort St John is, let alone understand the issues it faces

(Fieldnotes, 5/3/2014). For all its contributions to the provincial economy, all the wear and tear on roads from industry traffic, and all the social impacts the region bears, the northeast, in many residents’ view, does not “get back” enough in provincial infrastructure and social services funding. “One of the big piss-offs for the landowners and the people who are against Site C” is that with the amount of power the WAC Bennett dam provides for the province of BC… “we feel, hey, we gave at that trough, it’s somebody else’s turn” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014).

2.3 An Outdoor Paradise

2.3.1 Unlimited Recreational Opportunities

Downtown Fort St John may be unattractive and not very “livable” in urban planning terms—“life deteriorates when I go into Fort St John,” said a rural resident (Fieldnotes,

8/21/2014)—but most people do not come to Fort St John for the city itself. Besides the money, 56

the attraction is usually the scenery and the outdoor lifestyle. Within two minutes’ drive along

Rose Prairie Road or Cecil Lake road you can be truly in the countryside, and those who can live in rural areas, or recreate outside the city as much as possible. According to the Chamber of

Commerce, about a third of regional residents “take advantage of residing in the open spaces where the pioneer spirit still lives” in communities that “offer rich culture and history surrounded by an outdoor wonderland” and “provide a safe place to raise families in friendly, spread-out communities on secluded acreages and lakeshore properties” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 14, 16).

Fort St John and the Peace Region market themselves as an “outdoor recreation paradise.” The motto of the Peace River Regional District is “Diverse. Vast. Abundant,” (Peace

River Regional District, n.d.-b) and promotional materials stress the sheer size of the region, and the number and variety of outdoor recreation opportunities, based on the unique attributes and natural beauty of the landscape.

With the outdoors easily accessible in the Peace, the Fort St John Mayor welcomes visitors and newcomers to enjoy the local activities:

“There are many boating and fishing opportunities here on rivers and lakes only minutes from town. The local golf course is only a few blocks from town. There are cross country ski trails only a few blocks from downtown and more trails at Charlie Lake (a 5-minute drive). There are also many hiking, mountain biking, snowshoeing and snowmobiling trails in town and at the vast parks just outside of town. Quadding here has become a verb. Hop on your quad and go for a ride on many of our trails. It’s a blast” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 6).

There is something for everyone, promoters say. According to the Chamber of

Commerce, the “variance in seasonal temperatures accommodates a range of summer and winter activities…. Fort St John has limitless opportunities for outdoor recreation” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 60).

Emphasis, however, is on “adventure” (activities that get your heart racing), a function of the

“wild,” “untouched,” and “unique” nature of the area. The Alaska Highway, for example, which 57

cuts through the Peace River Regional District, linking Dawson Creek and Fort St John, “offers a fantastic display of wildlife, breathtaking landscapes, and adventures sure to excite the young and the young at heart” (“Fort St John Visitor Guide,” 2014, 5). Whether cross-country skiing or snowshoeing, visitors are invited to “let your imagination lead the way as you explore a wild landscape…” (FSJ Visitor Guide, 18).

These activities take place against the background of beautiful scenery, particularly of the

Peace River and Peace Valley: “In summer, the Peace Valley and rolling hills offers [sic] endless picturesque opportunities for scenic drives, bird watching and wildlife viewing. The Peace River presents great opportunities for boating, fishing, and hunting” (City of FSJ, n.d.). The Chamber of Commerce points out that “Fort St John is located amongst the wide-open spaces, big skies, and gently carved river valleys of the Peace River Country, within a two-hour drive of the Rocky

Mountains and the Peace Foothills…Sweeping fields provide beautiful summer drives in the country, where ripe yellow canola and other seed crops grow” (FSJ CoC, 2015, 60). Richard

Neufeld, local resident, former member of the provincial legislature, and now Senator, declares that “those of us who live in the region know how fortunate we are to enjoy one of the most beautiful and pristine environments anywhere” (FSJ `CoC, 2015, 10).

Judging by all the “big toys,” residents are “playing outside” on their quads, motorboats, and jets skis with enthusiasm. A jacked up, big-hipped pick-up truck (reinforced with an extra set of back wheels), covered in mud and carrying a platform holding two snowmobiles is a typical

Fort St John sight. Backcountry, the outdoor equipment store, is fully stocked with hunting and car camping supplies, though little of the backpacking, kayaking or canoeing equipment found at

Vancouver’s outdoor gear suppliers.

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Yet many people do enjoy slower-paced, self-propelled activities. As a Facebook commenter suggested, it might be “stereotyping and generalizing the way the community engages with the outdoors” to portray regional residents as only “outdoor adrenalizers, lovers of big toys and the big life,” as a City of Fort St John post called them (City of FSJ, 2014b). The commenter continued:

“I know as many people (young and old) with snowshoes, cross country skis, mountain bikes, canoes and kayaks as I do people with wheels and motors. It feels a bit dated to stick with the redneck associations that can have people jumping to conclusions about whether this is a diverse city to live in or move to. It’s about the sense of adventure in any/many forms :o)” (Response to City of FSJ 2014b).

The outdoors can be enjoyed quietly and without a lot of equipment, agreed another social media user, by getting “winter gear on” and strolling at night along the walking tracks or to the sledding hill. Anyone who cannot “see any beauty in this town, [is] not looking hard enough,” but twenty minutes in the park, “looking up at the stars and silence,” would change their mind (City of FSJ, 2014a). The unique beauty of the area is particularly inspiring to the

Peace’s many artists. Printmaker Alan White described the dawn colours that inspired one of his prints:

“During the winter there’s about fifteen minutes at the beginning of the day where the sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon that you get these ridiculous colours, the magenta and the really deep orange and yellow…I’ve lived all over the world and I’ve never experienced sunrises and sunsets like here. The colours, especially in the winter, are amazing. You kind of don’t believe that it’s actually the colour it is. If you try and explain it to somebody, they wouldn’t believe you” (Dyck, 2014).

2.3.2 “The Land is Dead”

My own recreational preferences lean toward snowshoeing and kayaking rather than outdoor adrenalizing; however, as a newcomer, staying in the region for a limited time, I found it

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somewhat difficult to take advantage of any of the promised outdoor recreation opportunities.

Though these opportunities were supposedly “unlimited,” I found it difficult to find information on exactly where to go. I had neither the skills nor the confidence to strike out into the wilderness on my own; further, if there were places to rent outdoor equipment—canoes, for example—I never found them, (though people were very generous about lending it). I did, however, drive out of town, often to meet with people who wanted to show me their rural properties so I would “get where they were coming from” on their opposition to Site C.

The highways in the region—even the Alaska Highway—are not really highways as urbanites envision them, but two-lane country roads with high speed limits. On a summer day, a few minutes outside town, all around was nothing but blue sky, floating clouds, and rolling fields and hills in shades of green and gold. I would have been happy to keep going and going… The land was quite agricultural—crops and pastures divided by lines of trees and patches of forest. I always hoped to see wildlife yet feared hitting it with the car. Deer were common, and I saw bears several times, and once a young moose.

Reaching my destination, I was enchanted to see mule deer coming right up to the porch for the sunflower seeds the householders had put out for them. Sometimes we interrupted an interview to watch a blue jay outside the window. Another home, a log “cabin” the owners had built themselves, covered in snow, looked like a Christmas card. We could see a chinook coming by the arch pattern in the clouds across the river.

On these drives I saw few signs of industry, apart from oil and gas company signs at the turnoffs for side roads and the occasional “pumpjack,” (the pumping unit of a small oil well) nodding steadily. There was a light but constant stream of trucks on the Alaska Highway, but on the secondary roads I might see only a handful of other vehicles in an hour or two of driving. I 60

asked why I did not see more obvious signs of industrial activity; a rural-dwelling friend told me it was hidden from the roads, implying this might be deliberate.

The lack of visible impacts, or my obliviousness, are all the more surprising in light of a

David Suzuki Foundation report detailing the extent of anthropogenic change in the region. The

Foundation reports that within the 5,611,800 hectares and five watersheds of the Peace region, besides the 16, 267 oil and gas wells, there are 45, 293 kilometres of road, and 1,163 kilometres of transmission lines. Eighteen percent of the land is under “active petroleum and natural gas tenures and pipeline right of ways,” seven percent is under mine tenure; and nine percent is

“recent and planned cutblocks.” When other uses, such as wind power tenures, agriculture, and urban development are added, along with a 500 metre buffer, the “total area of cumulative changes,” or “zone of influence on wildlife populations” is 67 percent, rising to ninety percent in eastern part of the region, while the area of intact forest in one of the watersheds in the region

(the Beatton), for example, is less than one percent. (P. G. Lee & Hanneman, 2012, 14). Local environmentalist Don Petit explains, “It’s hard to tell from the ground sometimes, but if you look at it from the air it’s very clear that we’re fragmenting the landscape dramatically with exploration roads, cutlines, well sites, etc. You look at it from the air and you see a patchwork of almost a grid being laid down over our landscape of roads and development” (Mills, 2013a).

Perhaps as a newcomer, and city dweller, I did simply did not have the reference points to appreciate what the land was like before. But for some whose memories go back farther the changes are unmistakable, and sometimes harrowing. A fifty-something Doig River leader, for example, thought back to his childhood in the area. From a hill overlooking the Alaska Highway, the busiest stretch where the traffic roars by all the heavy equipment yards, with no leaves on the trees to soften the view, he tried to convey how quiet it used to be. (Fieldnotes 02/17/2014). 61

Others noted the changes to animal life: Elder May Apsassin of Blueberry River observed that

“We are getting low on the moose. I see some moose in a city and I say look at him, he come to town because he got no home, their home is all broken.” She and other elders “feel very hurt about oil-rig, road, logging [which] is destroying for these animals. What about owl?” she asked

“What about eagle? We never see eagle who is special to us. What they do is kill them on the road” (Penn, 2013, 5). And for Art Napoleon, former Chief of the Saulteaux First Nations, the present, when “many of the animals that were once all over the place are hard to find,” contrasts painfully with his youth, when “you only got so far by road and then it was wild and you continued on horse.” Whereas then “you had to watch for grizzlies and wolves would be around,” nowadays “it is ‘I wonder if we’ll see anything.’” He said, “the land feels dead as if there is no life…like the spirit of the land is injured, or on its last legs.” He added, “I have had to turn off my ‘feelers’ because I can’t look at it and simply accept [what is happening to the land].

(Penn, 2013, 10).

Arlene Boon, a third-generation farmer in the Peace Valley, and her husband Ken told the

David Suzuki Foundation “with all the new roads, lines, and pads, we don’t even recognize some areas anymore…” Already the industrial traffic on the highway is “phenomenal,” with “huge convoys…of fracking and drilling equipment and the chemicals going into the wells that you know is having an impact in wilderness areas.” And more changes are coming; they could not

“imagine what this country is going to look like in twenty years.” “If LNG…goes ahead, this will triple the impact” (Penn, 2013). Not to mention Site C.

Many who see the land as “broken,” however, still feel passionate attachment to it, and strive to preserve what remains, particularly from Site C. As the Peace Valley Environment

Association says, “Northeastern BC is already ravaged by industrial development; we cannot 62

allow this precious, relatively untouched jewel—the Peace River Valley—to be destroyed as well” (Peace Valley Environment Association, n.d.-b). Yet other residents believed that industry could grow, without serious detriment to their “outdoor wonderland.”

Watching the growth of resource development in the Peace River region, inhabitants viewed different worlds. Though there were as many worldviews as there were worldviewers, their perspectives fell along a spectrum. At one end, the official version, shared by many residents, asserted that expanding industry offered boundless opportunities for the good life, while the environment remains pristine, or at least viable. As will be discussed in the following chapters, they hoped for more of the same from Site C, expecting that the project would bring many social and economic benefits, and that tourism and outdoor recreation could continue, even if the Peace Valley, a centrepiece of these activities, were transformed. At the other end, people saw unrestrained industry as a source of social and individual stress, even violence, and environmental degradation. They dreaded the intensification of industrial impacts, particularly those of Site C that threatened their beloved valley.

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You Either Get It or You Don’t? Valley Residents and “Feelings for the Land”

3.1 Introduction

A Peace Valley landowner once recounted to me his conversation with a southern real estate speculator: the investor explained that in Vancouver, knowing little about Site C, “we just ignore it,” but that driving from Hudson’s Hope to Fort St John had opened his eyes. “Just that drive [through the valley] made me realize that you should not be flooding this sort of thing…that’s all it really took” he said. “So,” the landowner concluded, “even though originally I thought he was maybe the scum-of-the-earth-type guy, then I kind of realized he’s just another uninformed Vancouverite and somehow we need to get to those people” (Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014).11 He and other Site C opponents actively drew on this power of the Peace Valley to inspire attachment, even reverence; they believed that even some members of the BC Hydro Site

C team had been thus affected; if they spent much time in the valley, “after a while for some reason we don’t see them anymore” (Canada Environmental Assessment Agency/BC

Environmental Assessment Office (CEAA/BCEAO), 2013e, 37).

On the other hand, others seemed immune to the valley’s attractions: a young journalist who had interviewed several members of the long-term valley families shook his head, saying

“they’re so attached to the land. I don’t get it. What is it about that particular piece of land?”

(Fieldnotes, 5/20/2014). Valley residents were used to this perspective, but as a third-generation farmer explained, “the land is part of you. There’s feelings for the land that other people don’t

11 Unless otherwise specified, quotations in this chapter are from field notes and interviews conducted between June 2013 and October 2014. 64

understand. It’s the sort of thing that you either get it or you don’t. If you get it, I don’t have to explain it, and if you don’t, I can’t” (Desmog Canada, 2016).

I suspected that these “feelings for the land”—or the lack of them—were an important element of the competing worldviews underlying arguments for and against the Site C dam, reflecting beliefs about the relationship between humans and the non-human world. Like the farmer above, who opposed “those of us that live on the land and work the land” to those who are “gonna…build the dam, flood the place, make a mess and bugger off” (Desmog Canada,

2016), Nixon attributes much contemporary environmental conflict to “a clash of temporal perspectives between the short-termers who arrive…to extract, despoil, and depart and the long- termers who must live inside the ecological aftermath and must therefore weigh wealth differently in time’s scales” (Nixon, 2011,17). Considering only the active local Site C opponents, and BC Hydro representatives (whom the farmer was talking about), this is a compelling characterization; however, the dichotomy does not account for the many players who fall in between. Many residents recognized that the natural environment was a “huge aspect of the quality of life” (Interviewee 7, 7/4/2014) in the region. They loved the land, and their outdoor lifestyles—their horses, their cabins, their fishing expeditions—yet some seemed unafraid that

Site C (or other resource extraction) would change it beyond recognition. In fact, as I discovered, some people who have made the region their home for years or decades, occasionally even generations, support Site C, embracing its promised benefits, and accepting its threatened impacts.

In this chapter, I explore this relationship to land among residents of the Peace Valley whom I interviewed, making both a methodological and an ethnographic argument.

Methodologically, a structured photo-prompt exercise adapted from Satterfield (2001), even 65

though it did not unfold the way I expected, was key to eliciting information regarding taken-for- granted environmental perceptions, feelings, and assumptions—answers to questions I did not know how to formulate. It thus has potential for helping to uncover worldview differences, or similarities, that people in conflict might have trouble expressing, even to themselves.

Ethnographically, the exercise revealed that people I interviewed, including Site C supporters, inhabit the rural land actively, in a way that I, more of an urbanite than I realized, had not imagined. The photo-prompt tool suggested not only participants’ intimate, practical, concrete knowledge of the non-urban outdoor environment, but also how integral this knowledge was to their lives and identities—which would otherwise have been difficult to access. In this chapter I will describe the experience of using this tool, and the environmental reflections it elicited, before going on to describe the differences in outlook between Site C supporters and opponents, and the connections to structural and cultural violence, in the next chapter.

3.2 Investigating “Feelings for the Land”

3.2.1 Interviews and Interviewees

To investigate local “feelings for the land” I began with interviews. I was most interested in speaking with the “lay” people closest to the conflict on both sides, i.e., those who supported or opposed the project as individuals, not because of their institutional affiliation. I began by contacting the Peace Valley Environment Association, an organization dedicated to fighting Site

C, and was referred to several members, who in turn referred me on to others. Private, non-BC

Hydro supporters of the dam, on the other hand, though apparently in the majority in the region

(see Chapter 4.2), were not organized into formal groups as opponents were (as explained in the

Introduction) and were more difficult for me to identify. I therefore recruited interviewees who

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attended a Site C business networking event, as well as the rare few who had publicly championed the project.

Over the course of my research, I interviewed 28 Euro-Canadian residents of the Peace

Region, including twelve who supported Site C, and 16 who opposed it. They ranged in age from mid-twenties to late eighties, with most between forty and sixty (as nearly as I could judge). Both pro and anti-Site C interviewees included current or former politicians, and employees, managers, and business owners in the oil and gas and related industries; however, occupations among those opposed to Site C also included farmer/rancher, teacher, hunting guide-outfitter, health professional, and scientist. Although I did not specifically ask about interviewees’ educational attainments, it was clear that the interviewees opposed to the dam had a high level of education compared to the local average, with at least three master’s Degrees, two professional qualifications, and two bachelor’s degrees among them. One pro-Site C interviewee also had a master’s degree (to my knowledge). Of those who supported Site C, four had grown up in the region, while the remainder had arrived between three and twenty years previously, generally from small towns in British Columbia and Alberta; one was originally from Newfoundland. Site

C opponents had a longer collective residence in the area: at least eight were second or third generation Peace Valley residents, and at least five had come to the Peace Valley at least twenty years previously, several as spouses of multi-generational residents.

From interviews, I learned that many interviewees, whether for or against Site C, shared small-town or rural backgrounds, often including a kind of youthful rural freedom, as well as a lot of physical activity: “being young and footloose and fancy-free and runnin’ wild in fields,” exploring, taking “my bike wherever I could go,” and building tree forts. Some hunted and gathered: fishing, hunting prairie chicken and “traips[ing] the hills looking for saskatoons and 67

chokecherries at the appropriate seasons.” Many came from farming families, ranging from

“rural city folk” who worked in the city, but lived in the country with “a few acres and a garden” to those who survived from their own hard labour, cutting trees by hand, and ploughing with a horse.

This was useful background, but my rather clumsy question “what is your relationship to land?” was not really yielding the information I was looking for. If ethnography was to have any relevance to worldview conflict transformation, as I hoped, I needed to go deeper. As LeBaron points out, however, conflicting parties are usually not consciously aware of their own worldviews, and are therefore unable to describe them directly; if, as she argues, “surfacing ways of seeing is central to bridging conflict,” a range of tools, that draw on intuition, story, and metaphor, not just logic and analysis, is required (LeBaron, 2002, 10).

3.2.2 Values Elicitation Tools

3.2.2.1 “Symbolic Explorations of Value”

I turned to Satterfield’s (2001) Values Elicitation tools: “indirect, narrated, and affectively resonant elicitation tasks,” designed to stimulate expression of a broad range of environmental values. I felt these tools bypassed what Satterfield calls “direct and futile questions” about the symbolic value of nature (2001, 339), but still offered a targeted way of discovering environmental worldviews, rather than simply inferring them from other things respondents might have said. When I used them in different circumstances and a different cultural context than Satterfield originally conceived, these tools yielded results quite unlike those she describes, both in form and content; however, the gap between my expectations and reality was an unexpected source of insight.

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According to Satterfield, while “cost-centred” approaches to environmental valuation, have been criticized for being “excessively economistic” and poorly adapted to a “fuller articulation of values,” even if given the chance, study participants generally have difficulty articulating on demand “values that are ethically-charged, deeply held, privately defended or not available to consciousness at a moments’ notice” (2001, 332). She therefore presents a series of

“Values Elicitation” tools, designed to facilitate verbalization of “the nonutilitarian qualities and values that best express why nature matters,” but which may not be well-defined in respondents’ minds (2001, 332, 335). They draw on the links between narrative, symbol, and meaning to provide respondents with a context for expressing their own emotional, moral and spiritual values regarding the environment, without appearing “flakey” (2001, 335).

Of the three different Values Elicitation tools, the third, called, “Symbolic Explorations of Value,” is the focus here. This exercise, as reported by Satterfield, explored “existence value,” which expresses “direct appreciation for the existence of a place,” for itself, but also for what it symbolizes—a “meaning [that] may be intuitively sensed but not necessarily consciously interpreted or verbalised” (2001, 339). To elicit such values, the tool employed two “evocative”

8" x 10" colour photographs, each showing a single person, facial expression indiscernible, one standing in a “lush” old-growth West Coast temperate rainforest, the other in a clearcut. In the expectation that participants would reveal “important concepts” by projecting themselves and their own experiences onto the person in the photograph, they were asked to compose a narrative including “what the person in the photograph is thinking and feeling, how the person came to be in the setting, how the person will integrate the experience into his or her daily life, and what the person will do when he or she leaves this setting.” (Satterfield, 2001, 339). Satterfield aimed to discover whether, if the elicitation context allowed for “symbolic, moral, and emotional content,” 69

and used “indirect and open-ended elicitations, to encourage the kind of narrative and dialogic talk that reflects value discussions in everyday life,” participants would be “able to offer a breadth of value positions” (2001, 339), and indeed, the photographs were effective in eliciting a large number and variety of values.

The tools elicited “rich, lengthy and value-dense passages,” affirming Satterfield’s claim that “under ‘naturalistic’ conditions (i.e., conditions that mimic ordinary talk and ardour), participants have a great deal to say about values” (2001, 343). She cites a representative example passage, which she describes as “like many…unabashedly romantic,” and conveying the “ephemeralness of human life [and suggesting] that forests represent something larger, more enduring than the human self:”

‘Jane hiked farther, finding herself beneath a canopy of old growth shade. She was amazed by the immense size of the trees which due to old age and climate were covered in moss. Staring out at the tree, she thought to herself, “It’s so old”. She thought further about her age in relation to the trees. It occurred to her that her life was a very small part of the life of the earth.’ (343).

Other examples included:

“The man leaned his head forward, listening to the vast nothingness, and heard a plaintive cry from the lush greenery a few hundred yards from where he was standing’ (348).

“Massive barked, mosscovered, ancient soldiers that protected the gates to the true muse of nature, loves poetry” (350).

Satterfield notes the “sheer force of imagination” demonstrated in some responses and the fact that many responses, particularly those expressing spiritual values, tended to be “verbose and expansive in style and delivery” (2001, 347).

Based on these results, the tools seemed ideally suited for holistic ethnographic research focused on an environmental conflict. Because my research otherwise relied heavily on 70

interviews and observations of the official Environmental Assessment process, in which the parties were almost constantly putting forward arguments, I welcomed this indirect method of inquiry that would allow participants to reveal what was important to them without having to prove a point.

3.2.2.2 Creating a Stimulus Photo

The first step was to obtain the appropriate stimulus, transposing the forest photos to a river setting. When an internet search turned up nothing that fulfilled my quite specific criteria, I decided to create my own, recruiting my partner as the model. After trying several locations, we eventually found a location off the Alaska highway at Toad River, that satisfied the requirement for a “generic” temperate climate river scene, one that would feel familiar and unremarkable to locals, but not specifically recognizable. Although it was a warm August day, I posed Robin with his back to the camera, visible from the shoulders up, in a black Gore-tex jacket and red tuque, so that his hair and body shape were masked, and he could not be identified as male or female, adult or child. I also felt the jacket and tuque were fairly neutral, and could have been worn by a hunter, environmental researcher, tourist, industry worker, etc. The goal was a genderless, ageless, raceless “figure” that anyone could identify with. I would describe the final photo as an unidentified person standing facing away from the camera on the bank of a clear, fast-flowing stream or river, flanked by rocks and forest, on a clear sunny day. I used a 5”x 6” colour print.

Because my sample size was quite small, I used only one photo, instead of two contrasting photos, as Satterfield had done.

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Figure 3-1: Stimulus Photo for Values Elicitation Tool (Author photo)

3.2.2.3 Laboratory vs Field

I administered the photo exercise to fourteen people, ten men and four women, drawn from my larger pool of interviewees, either at the conclusion of an interview including semi- structured questions and responses to key words, or in combination with the key word responses alone. As circumstances would have it, all but three participants were in favour of Site C. I instructed participants to look at the photo, to put themselves into the picture, and make up a story covering what the figure in the photo was thinking and feeling, their reason for being in that place, what they would do when they left, and what they would figuratively “take away” from the experience of being there. At first, I gave respondents the choice of responding either orally or in writing; however, only one person ever chose to respond in writing, and eventually I stopped offering the choice.

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In contrast to Satterfield’s verbose and romantic participants, “my” respondents were laconic and matter-of-fact. Assuming Satterfield’s “several hundred pages” of responses generated by sixty participants equates to approximately five pages per respondent (at minimum), they were in strong contrast to those of my fourteen respondents, whose mostly oral output yielded a total of approximately seven single-spaced transcribed pages. Responses ranged from roughly 76 to 556 words long, with most falling in the 300–400-word range. Longer responses were not necessarily richer; some of the short responses were pithier, while some of the longer answers contain conversation that may or may not have been directly inspired by the photo.

With the ample, even poetic sample quotes from Satterfield’s participants in my mind, I was disconcerted to hear responses such as:

“Well, this looks like a nice place to be--it's on the river someplace, uhh, umm, could be fishin, yeah, could be campin--looks like someplace that I'd like...Some nice white water, you might even take a kayak down there, and get wet. Looks kinda cold to be wet. Umm, ah. I don't know, I mean, I don't really know what the picture is--it's a river [laughs].”

Or this one, which constituted the participant’s entire response:

“Well, if that was me standing there, I'd say this is beautiful, all that water looks so clean and clear, I can see to the bottom of the river--this almost looks like the Pine River. I'd come back here again. I wonder if there's any fish in there. Look at the forest. I wonder if there's any fish under that logjam. We're blessed. Nature at its best. Having been there, we have to make sure we leave everything the way it was when we came here, clean up after ourselves, take a picture to show, ah, share [pause]. Be an advocate. Oh, is there some of that wildlife up there?”

Surprised by the short and somewhat shallow responses, I returned to Satterfield’s article.

On first reading it, I had paid little attention to the circumstances under which she administered the VE tools. Re-reading it, I found many differences in context which likely account for some of

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the dissimilarities between her results and mine. Satterfield’s sixty participants were “solicited from the local university community using an ad in the student newspaper” and paid a “small fee” (337). She describes the set-up as follows: the exercises

“were all conducted as paper and pencil tasks meant to gather participants’ value-based thoughts and reflections. Participants were encouraged to write freely, to take their time, and to study their assigned photograph…or written passage carefully. They were asked to describe fully their thoughts and feelings” (Satterfield, 2001, 340).

Although she does not mention where the exercises took place; I assume that participants came to an academic space which she controlled. Thus, participants were university students, used to being “assigned” tasks and to writing on command, in the researcher’s territory, there for the express purpose of completing the tasks, and being paid to do so.

The field-based set-up was quite different. For one thing, I usually (though not in all cases) brought out the photo as the final phase of a fairly long semi-structured interview rather than making it the sole focus of a session. For another, I did not pay my interviewees; they participated in my research purely out of good will and their own interest, which altered the researcher-participant dynamic. As a guest in their homes or offices, where the interviews were conducted, and the recipient of a favour, as well as of their knowledge, I felt hardly in a position to assign tasks or to insist on more extensive responses.

On the other hand, although I was younger than virtually all the participants, as a PhD candidate, I had a higher level of education, and (not to presume) perhaps some professional authority. Although apparently intrigued by the exercise and willing to cooperate, most participants also appeared rather taken aback and nervous about giving the “right” responses, as if they were taking a “test.” They reacted with sometimes humourous uncertainty: “You want me

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to tell you a story, so okay, like, as in, like, a story story?” or “I get to be like Farley Mowat here for a bit?”

I had at least a minimal prior relationship with each respondent, ranging from the interview interaction itself to an ongoing friendly relationship outside the interview setting. This may have made the VE exercise in some way more awkward, compared to a situation in which a participant shows up cold, completes the exercise, and departs, presumably never to see the investigator again, and never to witness the reaction to what they have produced. Participants did not seem to find writing their responses to be any more comfortable than speaking them; even when sitting at their office desks with computers available, all but one chose to respond orally, and to my surprise, the one written response was one of the shortest.

In fairness, it is really putting anyone on the spot to ask them to generate such a story spontaneously, without prior preparation, and my interviewees were uniformly good sports about it. Moreover, the Peace River region is not a place where one can just expect people to generate written text or elaborate stories off the top of their heads. Dominated by the norms and practices of the oil and gas and related industries, it is a town where the focus is on action—getting to the point and getting it done—and little time is spent reflecting on deep thoughts and feelings. It is also, as described in Chapter 2, a place where a high proportion of people work outdoors, whether as oil and gas workers, as farmers or ranchers, and many participate in the outdoor recreation for which the area is known. This cultural context was reflected in the way some participants approached the exercise, the thoughts and motivations they attributed to the figure in the photograph, the elements of the scene they chose to focus on, and their emphasis on the outdoors as personally experienced.

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3.2.2.4 Responses

3.2.2.4.1 Taking a Test

Despite being encouraged to “put themselves in the picture” (sometimes repeatedly), several interviewees, as noted above, treated the task, not as an exercise in imagination, but as a test in which they had to figure out the right answer. Asked why the figure might be standing by the water, one interviewee declared himself stumped: “…I haven't got a clue. There's a million different things, reasons they could be there… they're either just lookin at the view, or they're out for a hike, or they're checking something out, or, I don't know. What am I supposed to think?”

Another declined to speculate: “To be honest with you, I'm not in a position to say. I have no idea … what it might have been that drew them to that location. And I'm not going to surmise for them.”

3.2.2.4.2 Putting Themselves in the Picture

As one interviewee demonstrated, however, the difficulty lay not necessarily in putting themselves in the picture and imagining possible reasons, but in narrowing the reasons down:

“What brought them there? I mean that could be anything, those are difficult questions to take down to just one… they may be working for industry and out looking at, ah, industrial sites, or if there was a development doing some environmental assessment work or impact studies, um...it may be somebody who was looking to go fishing, or hunting for example...Or, it could be somebody that said, you know, it's a beautiful day, I'm going to get out for a few hours and go for a walk.”

These are specific, known possibilities grounded in the reality of the Peace River area--not hypothetical, but actual reasons why this respondent and his associates have been and will be “in the picture,” that is, in very similar scenes.

A significant portion of the responses consisted of description of what the respondents observed in the photo. I was repeatedly surprised by the details interviewees picked up as they 76

tried to figure out the scenario in the photo. For all my efforts to dress the unidentified figure in unremarkable clothing, the clothing elicited considerable remark, from at least five respondents who used it as a clue to determine what the figure might be doing there. The consensus actually came pretty close to the truth: “it doesn’t really look like he’s dressed to be a horseman…he doesn’t really look like a hunter either, although he's wearing a red cap... I just don't see a rifle hanging on his shoulder,” reasoned one person. “I would say this person is a recreationalist, by their clothing, and they've come to a river, and it doesn't look like they're fishing or anything, so they're just out, probably hiking,” suggested another.

“I would think that somebody decided to go for a walk down to the river. Um, not a long walk, based on the clothing. It's not outdoorsy clothing, so I think they're an outsider looking in…[who] walked down to the water to appreciate the view. That guy walked back to their car and drove away,” declared a third, describing exactly what happened when we took the photo. Like the Inuit with their supposed eleven words for snow, interviewees off-handedly revealed nuances of “outdoorsy clothing,” and by extension, a whole realm of outdoor activities, that I, an outsider, a weekend recreationalist, a hiker, but not a fisher, hunter, or horseman, had not even suspected.

Respondents also revealed their familiarity with local conditions when they used visual details—details that I had not even noticed, either in the photo, or when actually on the banks of the river—to make inferences about the environment and natural processes at that location, and what one might do there: for example, “the cold water…it’s coming from the snow melt, cause of the colour” and “it doesn’t look…like a river that they could do much boating…The rocks look a little close to the surface.” They had practical questions, and realistic possible answers.

One person wondered if the interior of the forest had been logged, though he thought that “the outside is definitely not logged…but the river itself has changed over time with the logjam, so

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something has managed to change the flow.” Several people commented on the logjam and had the understanding to question whether it was caused by the spring freshet or sloughing on the riverbanks. Others noted a mysterious shadow on the far bank, and one person even took out a magnifying glass to examine it, ultimately deciding it was just the “shadow of a void in the rock.” Participants may have been hesitant to put themselves in the photo hypothetically as requested by the exercise, but in a way they did so unconsciously; their knowledge allowed them to picture the scene in a concrete, multi-sensory, if not fanciful way.

The reasons that were given for the figure being in that place were often rather prosaic: “I would think that somebody decided to go for a walk down to the river,” or “Well, his boat's broke down here, and he's waiting for another boat to come crashing through these rapids and come up here and rescue him.” The figure, according to some respondents, was not so carried away by the magic of the scene that “he” forgot to think about the essentials of sustenance and safety in the here and now: “[he’s thinking about] that cold beer that boat’s gonna bring him…You always gotta have beer when you’re boating,” laughed one respondent. “I’d be wondering what’s around the corner” explained another, “I wonder if there’s a bear around the corner” (a possibility that had not crossed my mind at the time).

3.2.2.4.3 Recreation, Family, Contemplation

Many of the scenarios suggested concerned outdoor recreation, with one participant even defining the river as, “you know, I mean, it’s a recreational river.” Another said the place made him want to “go fishing, canoeing, and just enjoy what it has to offer, which is, why it’s there…”

As noted in Chapter 2, outdoor recreation is a way of life in the Peace: the region markets itself as an “outdoor paradise,” and “playing outside”—hunting, fishing, horseback riding,

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snowmobiling, hiking, boating—is a major component of the local identity, and these participants were no exception.

Looking at the photo, two respondents drew on their own experiences and connected outdoor recreation with family bonding. Having said that the figure in the photo reminded her of her son when young, one woman reflected that:

“…this is like perfection; this is like just a happy place for families to be. I think [the figure in the photo]’s thinking ‘I wish I had a fishing rod….’ And he’s there for the long weekend …he’s gonna go home and tell all his friends how he went to the river, and we caught some fish, and we had a bonfire, and my cousins came and spent the weekend. He’ll be wanting to bring a friend next time.”

A second woman suggested that

“maybe it is their summer cabin. And they spend as much time as they can there. Or maybe their family comes too. Maybe it’s a good time for their family to be with them. [My husband]’s dad had a nice place up at [a nearby] River, and it was kind of like this, nice place to be.”

As well as a place to spend quality time with family, a “nice” riverside place, such as the one in the photo, might also be somewhere to “get away from it all” and cultivate the inner peace associated with time spent in nature, for example:

“This is a place for quiet contemplation. This is a favourite spot of theirs to come and quietly convene [sic] with nature [before going] back to the busy-ness of the region and the breakneck speeds with which everything seems to happen here. The knowledge that there is a place like this available for quiet moments of contemplation has a calming effect in the rest of their lives. This is a place they visit often, especially when they are stressed or overloaded.”

The calming influence of nature was associated with sights, sounds, and smells, especially of water, which could be both soothing and bracing. For example, “they’ve come out to enjoy the peace and tranquility, away from the hustle and bustle of a city. Sometimes the white noise of the water can be very calming” and “you know how water and air, especially moving water is so 79

fresh and vibrant? It’s probably chilly, and so there’s a bit of a bite to the air, and I would think they sought that place out on purpose to be there, to engage in nature.” Time spent in nature would have a beneficial physical effect, so

“… they could probably re-invigorate, you know, if they've been in a stressful job, they come out to this place to find peace. And I've heard that if you look at nature and the trees and things it lowers your blood pressure… so… even if they just sit on the bank of the river and listen to the water going by, they might be able to see some wildlife there that would interest them, or hear the birds.”

Although the precise effect on blood pressure was a matter of second-hand expert knowledge, the activity itself was common to this participant and her friends:

“I know a couple of people have said they go up in the valley and go walking certain places, it's their place that they get away from it all. Course I don't do that, because I can go out into my field and do that, although it is lovely to be by the river…”

Implicit in many of these comments is an aesthetic appreciation of the place; a significant number of interviewees looking at the river photo explicitly admired the beauty of the spot: “I’d say this is beautiful, all that water looks so clean and clear…” In fact, the beauty (in at least one case) appeared to be considered almost self-evident, and to point it out was to state the obvious:

“I would be thinking, that’s beautiful. I see the nice forest coming up behind. What else can I say? As long as this isn’t polluted.”

Aesthetic appreciation was sometimes coupled with a recognition that such experiences are not available to everyone everywhere: “…they’re going to be thinking to themselves how fortunate we are to live in an area where I can go for a walk and see the types of things I see, and to live in an area where this beauty isn’t surrounded by a million people.” This participant continued:

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“I think probably they'll have a feeling of inner peace that comes with when you are in the outdoors, and I think what they will take away is just how lucky we are…as many challenges as we have some days… if you look around the world, on our worst day here in British Columbia, we'll have it better than 90% of the world will ever have it on their best day...”

In the same vein, another commented, “I've always found for myself when I go into a place like this, I find it very humbling, [to] realize… what we have around us, what we have to enjoy, how great life is…”

For some participants, such thoughts led to reflections on processes of change and the flow of time. Although not all residents in the area shared this outlook, some respondents had a philosophical acceptance of change, even human-caused change (as I will discuss further in the following chapter). One, a supporter of the Site C dam, who assumed that the river in the photo was the Peace River, the proposed future site of the dam, stated, “it [the river]’s beautiful in its present [unflooded] state. It will be just as beautiful in its future state [after flooding].”

Awareness of such environmental changes was not hypothetical, but based on specific local experience, and observation, either personally or through friends, of such processes in the past, as another respondent, also a Site C supporter, demonstrated. Contemplating the possible effects of Site C, he acknowledged that the Peace River would be changed, but judging by the results of the Bennett dam, some of these changes might even be positive in his view, for example by creating new fishing opportunities. Friends of his

“go river boating up there, and they at least go up there and fish now. They never would [before the WAC Bennett dam was built] on the Peace River because… it wasn’t accessible, but they also fish on the Peace now… on the Bennett dam, there’s big lake trout in there now, and there's Dolly Varden and rainbow, and the fishing is good up there. But, I mean, that's taken a lot of years to develop, but the thing is, they're gonna be there for a long, long time.”

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While this respondent considered changes to the Peace River due to dams that were observable within a human lifespan, others took a much longer view of time, pondering their own place in nature: “I think what I'd be wondering is … how many people have stood in this very spot before and looked at this...” said one. Another echoed the thought, developing it further, or, as he put it, getting “really creepy,” saying:

“I look at us as a human race that’s only been around let’s say four and a half million years and this has been around for about four and a half billion years; I actually pinch myself sometimes when I get to places like this, thinking that I wonder if I’m the first person to ever stand here. Or if somebody stood here before me, what were they thinking? And what were they hoping for?”

With such musings he located himself in the history of the place.

3.2.2.4.4 Memories and Identity

What was the effect on people, or their lives, of visiting such places? Several interviewees referred to the memories created, with one simply saying that the figure upon leaving would take away “memories of how beautiful our country is.” For some, these were vivid memories, moments that would stand out, perhaps as exceptions to ordinary life: “…the memory will be a fresh memory, of fresh air, of colours, the sound of the water, and you know, the just being outside and being in a place like that…,” and “when they leave, they’ll keep that picture in their mind and they’ll wait until they can get back again.” For others, these are repeated memories that cumulatively contribute to identity. The interviewee who described the young camper went on to say that “He’ll have memories of that forever, and I think that…when he grows up, just like our son… it’ll be something that he loves into adulthood…if he has kids, he’ll be wantin’ to bring his kids back there.” Another illustrated the way similar memories blend together, recounting how he used to fish as a child,

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“…and I still remember, you know, the goin and catchin that 8-inch-long rainbow trout and takin it home, where the good fishin holes were, and I think that kind of stuff sticks in your memory, [but] depending on how much you get out, like, I don’t remember every river that I was ever at.

Some people even more specifically downplayed the unique or special character of the pictured location, suggesting it is not exceptional—a “more-where-that-came-from” attitude: “It's a scene I've seen on the rivers from Nova Scotia to British Columbia, through to the Yukon and the Northwest Territories...” claimed one. Another laughed that while the place looked like an

“awesome fly-fishing place…I mean, you know, it’s just another stream and like my buddy said, you know, if you want the environment, just go over the hill, there's more [‘environment’] over there…”

The riverside scene in the stimulus photo, though pretty, was possibly a less sublime example of a natural scene than the “lush and densely vegetated grove of moss-covered [old- growth] coniferous trees” (339) used in Satterfield’s experiment, and this difference may partially account for some interviewees’ blasé reaction. Old growth forest is relatively rare, and even people who spend a great deal of time outdoors might not encounter it regularly. Although

“many” of Satterfield’s participants mentioned their rural background (Satterfield, 2001, 356, footnote 9), my impression is that they were primarily urbanites (like me), for whom the forest was “the wilderness,” “out there.” Spending much time in any forest, much less old-growth, would be exceptional. Some would have experienced it rarely, or not all, while for others it might be a regular recreational activity, but for virtually all it would be set apart from daily life— a perspective I shared and had not questioned. In this context, the question of “how the person will integrate the experience into his or her daily life” (Satterfield, 2001, 339) which was a component of Satterfield’s Old-growth photo exercise, makes sense.

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When I posed this question, which I initially phrased as “how will the experience of being there affect their daily life?” I got some funny looks, until I realized that for many of the people—oil workers, farmers, loggers, lifelong outdoorspeople—I was talking to, this was daily life. Even when I rephrased the question: “what will this person take away from the experience of being in this place?” people struggled to answer. I was asking them to pick out the influence of particular life experiences from who they are—not something most people can do on the spur of the moment.

The “relationship to land,” naturally, was different for every respondent, as for every person; however, though the sample size was small, overall, the Values Elicitation exercise revealed a preliminary picture. Respondents approached the photo scenario like a real situation, not an exercise in fantasy, because for them it was a real, or at least realistic, situation. The tangible details they seized on demonstrated their intimate knowledge and daily experience of such environments. In working and living on the land, they engaged with it sensuously, emotionally, spiritually—and routinely. Their reflections conveyed the importance of outdoor life to their identities.

3.3 Conclusion

Photo-prompts as used in the Symbolic Explorations of Value tool seem to be rare in ethnographic research,12 but they hold considerable potential for helping to bring to light unquestioned perceptions and worldview differences that would be difficult to probe for or to

12 The little anthropological or sociological writing I was able to find concerning “photo elicitation” typically refers to the use of photos documenting some actual, relevant aspect of the informant’s life or social world to spark discussion in interviews; these photos may be taken by the researcher or the informant as part of the research, or may be existing personal or archival photos (Harper, 2002). As Satterfield (2001) notes, the use of a standard photo to elicit a fictional story more closely resembles the Thematic Apperception Test, which is used in clinical psychology (Gieser & Stein, 1999) but seldom in ethnographic research. 84

articulate explicitly. Less direct or linear than interviews, but more explicit and focused than participant observation, if successful they are a relatively quick way to generate surprisingly deep ethnographic insights, even when the researcher is not sure what she is looking for. Because they are indirect and non-rational, they are also non-confrontational, suggesting promise for use in addressing worldview conflicts, as a way for parties in conflict to discover either otherwise unrecognized differing realities that may impede resolution, or common ground to build on.

In this instance, although I had expected that the comparison between pro-Site C and anti-Site C responses would show interesting patterns, the disjunction between my own expectations (based on Satterfield’s results) and participants’ actual input was the greatest source of insight. The gap between my expectations and reality exposed my own preconceptions regarding the relationship of humans to nature, as much as theirs. In particular, the obvious but subtle details they picked up, the nuances of outdoorsy clothing, the possible presence of bears, the state of the river, which I had been oblivious to, revealed both how unfamiliar the territory was for me, and how at home they were, highlighting, while challenging, my assumptions about what it means to live, work, and be on the land. Given the separation between natural experiences and my everyday urban life, I had underestimated the integration of life on the land with daily life for many people in the region. Yet the tool bypassed this limitation of my perspective, allowing participants to bring forward what was unconsciously important for me to know, without me needing to ask about it specifically.

The exercise revealed that, although the case of Site C certainly shares some elements with the environmental conflicts between Indigenous people and outside corporations that are

Nixon’s (2011) focus (as will be more apparent in later chapters), these interviewees are not

Nixon’s “short-termers.” In this case, it is important to account for the regional residents who 85

neither oppose Site C because of their “feelings for the land,” nor intend to simply “make a mess and bugger off.” While the majority of participants in this exercise were among the most vocal defenders of Site C, and many hoped for direct benefits from the project (to a greater or lesser degree), they are alive to the environment around them, unlike the “developer-dispossessors who descend from other time zones,” (Nixon, 2011, 17) for whom the land is merely a resource, an abstraction. They appreciate it, they enjoy it, they draw their identity from it, and they profess a sense of responsibility for it; yet, as I will explore in the following chapter, they believe that the benefits of projects such as Site C are worth the costs to the land that makes their home what it is. This group and their worldview(s) must be included in the analysis of environmental conflict and violence.

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Progress and Place: Competing “Stories” of How a Valley Should

Be

4.1 Introduction

Many Site C supporters, as well as Site C opponents, had “feelings for the land,” as I have argued—but, as I will explore in this chapter, not the same feelings. They all made the valley home, but this could mean very different things. As often happens, the landscape was

“contested” (Bender, 2001), meaning that although all occupied the same geographical space, they were “bound in to distinct sets of relationships with places, resources, forms of labour and plants and animals” such that, in effect, they occupied “different worlds” (J. Thomas, 2001, 181).

These different worlds, or worldviews, not only represent differing conceptualizations of the human relationship to the environment and to environmental change, but entail competing ontological, axiological and ethical elements—conflicting ideas about “what is real,” “what is valuable or important,” and how human beings should behave (Docherty, 2001, 51). People value nature not only for its intrinsic or instrumental worth, but also in “relational” terms, that is, for its “contribution to a good life, including adhering to one’s moral principles and maintaining the roots of collective flourishing” . In formulating their ideas about how nature should be treated, they consider not only its inherent value, or how it can fulfill their purposes, but their own relationships and responsibilities, and what is morally right and appropriate (Chan et al.,

2016). Thus, ideas about “how the world is, [and] how it should be” in environmental conflicts have “motivational power” (Blechman et al., 2000, 24). Interviews with Site C supporters and opponents accordingly revealed that worldview differences concerning not only perceptions of nature and place, but also a moral element regarding human obligations to the environment and

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each other underlay positions on the project. Although many on both sides were concerned with themes of climate change, population growth, society’s future needs and sustainable development, technology, and regulation, as well as the role of humans in environmental change, their concerns led them to opposing conclusions regarding Site C.

Supporters of Site C believed the project would further the goal of “progress,” and be in line with a moral obligation to use available resources for the good of humanity. They saw its consequences, though regrettable, as justifiable, and part of a natural cycle of change. Site C opponents, meanwhile, were committed to particular places as they currently are. They believed that the dam would be immoral because it would destroy a precious natural creation that cannot be reproduced by humans, while contributing to a damaging culture and practice of consumption.

In this chapter, after a brief discussion of the “sides” in the Site C controversy, and the arguments for and against the project, followed by a short overview of relevant literature, I will explore these underlying worldview differences, concluding that, as well as fundamental to the conflict, they were key to the ways that the project was justified.

4.2 Site C Conflict and Combatants

The provincial Premier announced Site C as a possibility in September 2007 (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2007a),13 and opposition arose immediately. By 2013, positions on the project ranged from “over my dead body” to “I kind of wish they wouldn’t build it, but I think they probably will (and I’m not doing anything to oppose it)” on the no side, and “it’s too bad, but on balance I think it’s the right thing to do,” to “it will do my business good, but we’d

13 See Chapter 6: for a more detailed history of the Site C initiative(s). 88

be fine without it” and “we’ve been planning this for fifty years,14 let’s get it done,” to “we need to do it for our grandchildren,” on the yes side.

As an industrial “mega-project,” considered clean and renewable by its proponents but highly destructive by its detractors, Site C muddles the stereotypical left-wing, highly educated, urban environmentalist and Indigenous peoples versus right-wing, blue collar, rural resource worker dichotomy. Opponents of Site C include, very prominently, the Treaty 8 Tribal

Association (T8TA), as well local politicians, farmers and ranchers with deep roots in the region, but also oil and gas industry personnel at various levels (often also with local roots). Many of the most committed non-Indigenous opponents were members of the Peace Valley Environment

Association (PVEA). As already noted, supporters were not always as visible or organized, but known supporters also included politicians, and oil and gas industry personnel, as well as some, though certainly not all, local businesspeople. To complicate matters, some opposed Site C privately, but hesitated to say so publicly (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014; Willow, 2019), while others pragmatically sought employment or business opportunities from the project even if they disagreed with it.

Available public opinion data did not inspire confidence; nevertheless, supporters appeared to be in the majority during the period leading up to project approval. In September

2013, a BC Hydro-commissioned opinion poll showed that while only 78% of regional residents surveyed “were aware of” Site C, 81% supported it (fully or conditionally), and 17% opposed it

(BCH, 2013b). The next year, a second BC Hydro-sponsored poll showed that local support had

14 This was actually the third time Site C had been put forward as a possibility; see Chapter 6.3, footnote 31. 89

dropped to 60%, while opposition had risen to 38% (“BC Hydro Poll Shows ‘Broad’ Backing of

Site C, But Signs of Growing Resistance,” 2016).15

The T8TA’s official position against Site C was based on a “resounding 85 percent no” to

Site C in a poll of its members (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 81). The Saulteau First Nations, however, remained officially agnostic throughout the Environmental Assessment period. Though members of the community spoke strongly against Site C during the hearings, the SFN eventually voted in favour of signing the first Impact Benefit Agreement (IBA) with BC Hydro, in a much-criticized referendum in July 2015 (BCH, 2015; Carter, 2015). Other First Nations followed similar patterns. The McLeod Lake First Nation, for example, joined in legal action against Site C; later a new chief called Site C a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, saying that nothing would stop Site C from moving forward, so other First Nations should “get on board”

(Kurjata, 2017). The Prophet River First Nation, on the other hand, also pursued legal action against the dam, but reached an agreement with the province and BC Hydro in 2020; Councillors publicly stated that the settlement would not prevent Site C’s “painful” impacts, but might “help to protect what remains of the Treaty 8 Lands and waters” (Indigenous Relations and

Reconciliation, 2020). The West Moberly First Nations, meanwhile, have maintained their opposition through several court challenges.

People support Site C for many reasons. These include potential benefits to the economy—such as jobs, increased business for local companies, and increasing property

15 An additional poll showed that in 2015, regional support rose again to 73%, while opposition dropped to 26%. In June 2016, a BC Hydro-sponsored poll showed that 69% of survey respondents in the northeast still supported the project, while 26% continued to oppose it; however, six months later, a poll commissioned by DeSmog showed 73% of respondents province-wide in favour of suspending Site C in order to refer it to an independent review panel and assess alternative energy sources (“BC Hydro Poll Shows ‘Broad’ Backing of Site C, But Signs of Growing Resistance,” 2016; Wakefield, 2016). 90

values—as well as the electrical power it would provide. Some oil workers, along with some self-described environmentalists, argue that Site C would provide power without the greenhouse gas footprint (while other oil workers oppose it because they believe its overall impacts would be worse than those of oil and gas). Individuals and contractors, both Indigenous and non-

Indigenous, hope to secure work on the project. Likewise people oppose Site C for many reasons, including the financial cost of the project, and its repercussions for hydro bills, taxes, and the provincial debt load; the social impacts, such as the strain on an already stretched physical and social services infrastructure, the sudden influx of well-paid, unattached workers, primarily young men, and the effects of cost of living increases on vulnerable community members; and, perhaps most fundamentally, the effects of the flooding on First Nations’ treaty rights, agricultural land, and fish and wildlife and their habitat. Given such a diversity of perspectives on this complex issue, generalizations regarding shared views can only be imperfect. Within the pool of interviewees (detailed in the previous chapter), there were outliers in both groups, on most if not all points. Nevertheless, I offer an account that, while it cannot perfectly depict any individual’s outlook, provides an overall “best fit” according to my interpretation.

4.3 Environmental Perceptions, Values, Worldviews—Literature

Although, as noted in the Introduction, conflict resolution literature regarding environmental conflict has been primarily process- rather than content-oriented, the intensification of environmental conflict, particularly over hydraulic fracturing for natural gas

(“fracking”), in recent years has given rise to a great deal of scholarship in rural, environmental, and policy studies regarding public perceptions of resource industries and the environment. In some cases building on an established literature regarding “boomtowns” (Stedman et al., 2012), 91

these mostly quantitative, often survey-based studies have corelated environmental views with

“sociodemographic dimensions” (Smith, Michael D Krannich, 2000), and support or opposition for energy development specifically with factors such as gender (C. Davis & Fisk, 2014;

Lachapelle, 2017), urban/rural residence (C. Davis & Fisk, 2014), political ideology or partisan affiliation (Clarke et al., 2016; C. Davis & Fisk, 2014; Lachapelle, 2017), perceptions of risk and opportunity (Schafft, Borlu, & Glenna, 2013), proximity to extractive industry (Clarke et al.,

2016), familiarity with the industry in question, (Jaquet, 2012; Stedman, Evensen, O’Hara, &

Humphrey, 2016), “maturity” and diversity of industrial development (Theodori, 2009), home

“place characteristics” (Hamilton, Colocousis, & Duncan, 2010), trust in the industry and regulators, and perceived impacts (Stedman et al., 2012). Reviewing this literature, Thomas et al. acknowledge that assessments of the relative benefits and risks of energy technologies “involve a range of concerns and value-based questions…includ[ing]…cultural values and worldviews… levels of trust in risk governance and regulation, and concerns relating to such things as the protection of valued landscapes” (Thomas et al., 2017, 2).

A more qualitative stream of literature, mostly located in environmental studies, goes beyond attitudes to investigate these values underlying conflicting positions. Often focusing on forests and forestry, scholars have explored environmental values (Vugteveen et al., 2010), their linkage to broader concerns of well-being, quality of life and cultural identity, (O’Brien, 2006)

2006), and their importance in environmental management (Vining & Tyler, 1999). Others have created values typologies (Bengston & Xu, 1995; Moyer, J. M., R. J. Owen, 2008; Vining &

Tyler, 1999), and considered how values might be elicited or measured and incorporated into policy (Connell, Shapiro, & Lavallee, 2015; Owen, Duinker, & Beckley, 2009; Satterfield,

2001). A cluster of Q-methodology studies, (for example, Parkins, Hempel, Beckley, Stedman, 92

& Sherren, 2015), have “unpack[ed]” the values and discourses embedded in seemingly

“dichotomous” energy debates (304). Anthropologists and others have documented environmental activism (Auyero, 2009; Checker, 2005; Clapperton & Piper, 2019), and analysed why some people act on their values, while others do not (McAdam & Boudet, 2012; Tindall &

Robinson, 2017; Willow, 2019, 2020a; Wright & Boudet, 2012).

For Blechman et al., however, values are just the beginning; environmental conflicts are often worldview conflicts that “may include competing ontological commitments and divergent epistemological preferences as well as conflicting values” (Blechman et al., 2000, 4). An ethical component may also be an important factor in worldview conflicts (Docherty, 2001). Yet ethnographically thick accounts that could produce richer explanations for non-Indigenous responses to extractive industry remain rare, particularly regarding industry supporters—with a few notable exceptions. Hochschild depicts a “deep story”—of being sidelined by minorities apparently receiving special treatment—that motivates downwardly mobile conservative white residents of Louisiana, who have become so resentful of government in general that they support industry and resist regulating polluters, even as they suffer extreme effects of pollution

(Hochschild, 2016). Hirsch and Dukes explore conflict over coal mining in Appalachia in terms of identity, as well as democracy and governance, focusing on the experiences of stakeholders on both sides and the relationships among them (2014). Finally, Satterfield’s study of the struggle over West Coast old-growth forests from the point of view of both loggers and environmentalists, found that “the forest dispute has everything to do with imagined ideal worlds,” including the “assertion of moral priorities and identities” and with the promotion by each side of a particular “cultural world” (Satterfield, 2002, 4).

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4.4 Site C Supporters

The rare ethnographies that do include industry supporters generally note that economic factors are central to support for extractive industry. In Ohio, Willow found that fracking supporters identified industrial development with economic benefits and saw fracking as possibly their only hope of prosperity. Furthermore, fracking proponents valued economic prosperity more highly than did anti-fracking activists: while the activists listed health and children as the most important components of well-being, fracking supporters named economic prosperity and jobs as fundamental (Willow, 2015; Willow, Zak, Vilaplana, & Sheeley, 2014).

Similarly, investigating attitudes and responses to extractive industry, including Site C, in the

Peace River region, Willow also found that active and passive supporters of industrial activity associated it with economic benefits and often considered it a “pragmatic necessity,” concluding that “belief that extractive industry is an unequivocally positive economic force…appears to be a precondition for support for—or even neutrality toward—extractive industry” (Willow, 2019).

Jerolmack and Walker, however, argue that “economics cannot fully explain… enthusiasm” for industry, in this case fracking. Their ethnography of white rural fracking supporters in Pennsylvania revealed that while landowners who leased their land to gas companies did prioritize “benefits over risks,” notions of self-reliance and personal freedoms

(connected to property rights), and cynicism towards the government, as well as political identities, informed their approval for this industrial activity, even when “personal benefits were limited” (Jerolmack & Walker, 2018, 479). Evensen and Stedman, moreover, suggest that differing definitions of “human flourishing” motivate reactions to resource development.

Whereas “antidevelopment individuals” they interviewed saw no net advantages to their communities from fracking (Evensen & Stedman, 2018, 149), rural residents who supported it 94

because of the jobs it would provide were thinking of the benefits not only to themselves, but to the community as a whole: “good” jobs would nurture human flourishing by allowing young people to work in their hometown, retaining health facilities locally, sustaining the tax base, and

“retain[ing] a critical mass of people to engage in volunteerism”(Evensen & Stedman, 2018,

148).

4.4.1 Pro-Site C View

Although the outlooks of many Site C supporters resembled those of industry proponents described above, because Site C was promoted as clean energy, they also differed significantly.

For Site C supporters I interviewed, collective economic benefits were a factor in their position, but not necessarily the primary one. For one interviewee, the “biggest benefit” of the project would be the opportunities to sell the electricity it produced, as well as to power LNG plants, generating revenue for a provincial prosperity fund to benefit current and future generations.

With health and education costs increasing, “there’s no way in God’s green earth that we’re going to be able to sustain and maintain education and health through taxation;” it would be necessary to “capitalize on our resource and industry is gonna have to help fund these programs, pure and simple,” he explained. A successful prosperity fund would finance health care for his grandchildren in their own retirement (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014). Overall, however, pro-Site

C interviewees talked more about the advantages of low-emissions energy.

Site C supporters’ vision of the future was one of continual expansion of human activities, and “growth,” particularly “development,” involving extracting resources and building; continuously expanding power supplies are a necessity to feed this growth. They hoped that Site C, as a major source of non-combustion-based electricity, would enable continuing development while limiting greenhouse gas emissions. They expressed the desire to protect the 95

environment, and they believe that improved technology and regulation would allow society to secure the benefits of the Site C project and other industry, while avoiding the worst impacts of past hydro projects. They saw it as not only natural, but right for, even morally incumbent on, humans to change the environment to their benefit (as other processes and organisms do).

4.4.2 The Future: “You Can’t Stop Progress”

4.4.2.1 Future Demand for Power

Most Site C supporters I interviewed based much of their support for the project on the assumption that BC would need increased power in the near future. Increasing population, they believed, naturally means increasing demand, and the province needs to be prepared, even if the power is not needed at this moment. “Watching municipalities, regions, the province grow, the demand’s greater all the time,” as one person put it (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). They were aware of the argument that there is currently no domestic demand for the power that Site C would provide; however, they considered this to be temporary, if true. One interviewee acknowledged that BC Hydro “didn’t clearly make a case that we need the power today,” but maintained that “the case was clear, we’ll need it at some point,” and with the long construction timelines of dams, “you do have to plan ahead” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014).

Per capita energy consumption is increasing along with population, according to another interviewee, who speculated that while the provincial population has doubled since the 1980s, personal use of energy has “probably…quadrupled.” If people were willing to go without “all your cellphones and all your laptops,” Site C would not be necessary, he thought (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014). Although one pro-Site C interviewee recognized that demand reduction is theoretically possible—saying that “in an age of climate change, and just sort of excess consumerism…we have to get serious about personal conservation,” but 96

that low electricity rates make it difficult to “push the public” to conserve energy

(Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014)—in general, Site C supporters I interviewed saw ever- increasing demand as inevitable: “as a society, we’ve continually grown dependent on energy, it’s basically the basis of our being in so many ways” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

Even anti-Site C activists use power, as several Site C supporters were quick to point out:

“…they plug the car in, so it starts in the morning, but do they think that they should only be allowed to have that power and other people moving into the country don’t?” (Interviewee

26, 10/22/2014). And when supply does not meet demand, “Are people willing to say, I’m willing to change my habits overnight [to avoid] Site C? (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

Furthermore, future developments might require power even beyond Site C. The BC government energy self-sufficiency policy, a projected increase in electric cars, and adding formerly isolated areas to the power grid were cited as additional factors in the increased demand for electricity (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014, Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014). In addition, if the BC government’s plans for liquefied natural gas plants were to be realized, even more power might be required, since Site C could only supply sufficient power to run one liquification plant. “Site

C isn’t gonna be the only major power generation project on the go in the next 20 years. This is just the start” asserted one interviewee (Interviewee 14, 8/26/2014). Finally, even if the power is not currently needed in BC, growing demand worldwide means it would always be a valuable commodity: “…I firmly believe that we could always use power, we can sell power, there’s always people lookin’ for power…” said another (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014). Yet this increase in demand need not pose problems if handled properly:

“I am accepting of the fact that as long as things are growing, we need more power. More gasoline for more cars, more food, more of everything, and if it’s managed correctly, it can all be sustainable” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). 97

4.4.2.2 The Obligation to Progress

More of everything was generally regarded as a good thing, as “progress,” among Site C supporters I interviewed. Especially in the Peace Region, where the population is relatively sparse, more industrialization brings benefits and supports families, they argued. As one interviewee declared “… everything that we do, is progress, industry wise. Where you’re basically improving people’s lives…” (Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014). Particularly in the northeast, the “environment provides [resources] so that we can …create something good for people”

(Interviewee 12, 8/20/2014). Resources are for us to use; if we don’t take advantage of them, “if we cannot export our resources to the markets that require them…we couldn’t be able to have the quality of life we have” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014).

For most Site C supporters I spoke to, resource development must “be done responsibly,” not pursued “at any cost” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014), but not taking advantage of the resources available is a wasted opportunity—why not do so if the impacts are acceptable? In the case of the

Peace River, for example, “…the water is just gonna flow to the ocean if we don’t harness its abilities, but we’re getting more out of it if we’re harnessing some of its capabilities without damaging the existing activity that it does” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). Unlike gas, which is gone once burned, even dammed water remains available for other uses (Fieldnotes, 7/3/2013).

For some, there was a moral element to resource development: those who have access to resources not only can, but should, put them to productive use for the betterment of their own and other communities. According to one interviewee, “it’s our…obligation to utilize what we have available to us positively to move forward, to advance ourselves, to… grow in way of life, make life better” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014). This interviewee explained his perspective on the necessity and the duty to progress, a version of the proverb that the devil makes work for idle 98

hands: “…society has to be building things, people always need something positive to do, whether it’s going to the moon or building a dam, and if we don’t have it, then we start killing people, robbing people, stealing…” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014). Those who are fortunate to have natural resources available can benefit not only themselves by developing them, but also contribute to global social well-being, by sharing the benefits. With “so much power and so much water here in our country,” we have an “obligation,” not only to make use of resources, but to make them available to people in other parts of the world, to improve their lives. Because, for this interviewee, the difference between BC or Canada and war-torn regions is that “we have things here, we have a nice community that we have built …because we’re not in need, we’re not in want of anything, really. And we have things to do. We are constantly building,” in contrast to other parts of the world where “poverty and not having enough to do, not being able to do something with your mind…” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014) are the explanations for constant fighting. For another interviewee, Site C would benefit the rest of the world, as well as British

Columbia, “because if it’s gonna power LNG, that LNG is gonna be shipped to Asia and they’re gonna benefit from that” (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

Progress, Site C supporters acknowledged, was not always an unmixed good. As one interviewee pointed out, increased progress comes with increased environmental impacts; for example, “in the 40s, everybody logged with horses. Today they log with huge feller-bunchers, and grapple-skidders, so that’s progress too. But it’s more impact, because you’re logging, you know, a hundred times the volume per man-hour.” Yet, “it’s not all rape and pillage. I don’t think anybody wants to go out and rape and pillage” (Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014). He explained how, while in the forest service, he initiated an effort to minimize impacts while allowing resource extraction to go ahead, resulting in at least one oil company having to do extra 99

reclamation at a drill site above the tree line: “It was a huge job. But the reclamation was … as good a job as anyone's ever done… up there. So that was progress!” (Interviewee 28,

10/23/2014) For another interviewee, “there’s negatives to everything,” so people might disagree on what constitutes progress, but if “the benefits…outweigh the negatives… you’re moving ahead” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). Therefore, for these Site C supporters, environmental considerations, while important, cannot be allowed to get in the way of “making progress, building economies, building communities...raising families…There definitely has to be an awareness or a conscience, right? But within reason” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014). So while Site

C may have negative impacts, “I don’t think you’re gonna stop progress…Industrial development must go forward” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014).

4.4.2.3 Green Power: “Pick Your Poison”

4.4.2.3.1 “This or Something Else”

Given that progress, and increasing demand, are inevitable, Site C supporters I interviewed considered hydroelectric power “still probably the best, most effective way of generating power and being eco-friendly” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014)—cost-effective and practical, renewable, and clean.

“As a society we have this demand, but we very rarely turn our head to every single thing has some kind of impact. So…if you want to be against Site C, what are the options?” “It’s not a yes or no, it’s a yes this or yes something else” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

For these interviewees, Site C appeared to be the best available option. They considered hydroelectricity from Site C to be “cleaner” than fossil fuels, because of the impacts of both extraction and combustion. Natural gas not only has “huge carbon emission issues,” but is extracted by hydraulic fracturing (“fracking”), which is controversial. According to a

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businessperson in the oil and gas industry, “green power from a hydro-electric facility is a far better thing than the industries I come from” because “what we do with our drilling processes is horrific” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014). As noted above, another interviewee commented that even if Site C were used to support LNG production, the dam would be beneficial globally as well as provincially if it enabled LNG to replace coal in Asia (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

Site C also had practical advantages over alternative energy sources, according to supporters. Nuclear power, though it produces few greenhouse gas emissions, has “huge issues around water use and contamination,” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014), and several agreed it was too “impalatable to the public” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014) to be a realistic option in BC.

Renewable technologies such as wind and solar power only operate in windy or sunny places, when the wind is actually blowing or the sun is shining, and there is limited, if any, capacity to store the energy produced. Furthermore, renewables have impacts too, as several interviewees pointed out: wind farms require sites and access roads to be cleared and concrete to be put in the ground, as well as coal to be mined and smelted into steel, while tidal power introduces calcium and lime, via concrete, into the ocean, they specified.

4.4.2.3.2 Financial Sustainability

Several stressed that hydroelectric power is also renewable, and therefore sustainable, according to an interpretation of sustainability that emphasizes the capacity to continue indefinitely or to last for a long time, to be “more or less self-perpetuating” (Interviewee 12,

8/20/2014). As one interviewee explained:

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“…a sustainable couch is one that’ll last you for 100 years. So sustainable development is something that’s done properly, done with a lot of research, done with purpose…done thinking of the future, thinking of how do I do this now so it’ll be around for others to enjoy… it’s how do I do something now, that maybe [I would] be willing to pay more now, knowing that in the long- term, it’s going to be beneficial to me or my kids” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

It is by looking at sustainability in this sense that one interviewee could consider coal mining to be both “not sustainable” and “a great way to move forward and have progress,” and to consider

Site C as an opportunity to combine sustainable energy with job creation. Although burning coal can “make all kinds of electricity,” with coal mining, “you knock a mountain down and it runs out, and you go to another mountain and pretty soon you got no mountains left.” So “anytime there’s a sustainable type of resource [such as hydroelectricity] that we can extract or utilize, we need to do it, because it puts people to work, doin’ things that can be repeated, that doesn’t ever go away.” Therefore “we need to embrace” sustainable forms of energy such as hydroelectricity

(Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014).

Financial sustainability is an important aspect of this capacity to persist, integral to one interviewee’s definition of sustainable development as “development that sustains itself…that pays for itself and is not needed to be subsidized” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). Another explained his view that “the first part of sustainability is financial sustainability,” which allows environmental and other benefits to “flow from the success of the enterprise.” When a project is financially sustainable, “you can implement other cost-effective measures,” such as emissions reduction, but “to me, environmental sustainability is almost a luxury” (Interviewee 28,

10/23/2014). Site C qualified as financially sustainable on this view, despite its initial price tag,

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because it was considered cost-effective on a per megawatt basis, compared to wind and solar power, and because it would

“be there generating power for a hundred years and would be paid off in forty or fifty [years], however that works. To me, that could be considered sustainable development, because it’s something that’s going to be producing, something that’s going to be beneficial to society for years to come” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

All told, Site C supporters did not see a better way of generating electricity. “If it doesn’t happen now it’s gonna happen later, cause where else are we gonna get the power from? Unless they come up with some new and revolutionary way to generate power and with everybody wanting whatever we do to be as clean as possible…” (Interviewee 14, 8/26/2014). Some saw

Site C as the least worst option: “…as we change as a world, we may go away from fossil fuels, but we are definitely going towards power. And that’s produced by a few means. Pick your poison, I guess” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014).

4.4.3 The Promise of Technology—Doing It Right This Time

Supporters’ conviction that environmental practices and regulations in general have improved over recent decades and continue to improve increased their comfort with Site C. One interviewee, reflecting that “we probably wouldn’t have a planet” if we had “carried on with what we were doing forty years ago…for a couple of hundred years,” explained that progress means investing in “new technologies so that we can lessen our impact on the land base,” recognizing that “we can still get better every day on how we extract those resources”

(Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014). In addition, although in the past “all sorts of negative things” happened “that were not regulated like they are nowadays,” “everything nowadays has to have an environmental certification…” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). Attitudes have changed, and

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new measures are in place to safeguard the environment, interviewees reported. For example, in the oil and gas industry,

“[back then] all the chemicals and stuff that were being pumped up and disposed of, were just put out into the bush, and so thank goodness that we have the Oil and Gas Commission, the regulator, and the regulations that the government put in to preserve and look after the environment…it shows that we don’t take it for granted anymore. People now understand the importance of looking after the land” (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

The general public may not realize “the regulations and restrictions” on industry because only the accidents receive media exposure on TV, but these regulations have “all been developed because of concern for the environment and also no company wants to see a leak in their cash”

(Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014).

Because of increased regulation, as well as better practices and technological improvements, many Site C supporters considered the Site C and its impacts to be very different from the WAC Bennett dam. One interviewee, for example, suggested that the province could achieve a “better balance” between development and the environment by making a more conscious effort to learn from past mistakes. For Site C, this would mean learning from the

“failure to log [the reservoir before inundation], the failure to deal with erosion” for the WAC

Bennett dam, and “do[ing] it right this time, based on the technology we have today”

(Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014). Others indicated their confidence in the ability and the integrity of the regulators, regarding Site C and resource projects in general. One expressed his “faith in the regulatory boards:” with “water boards and hydrologists [and] ecosystem scientists” all involved in regulating Site C, he had “trust that it’s going to be balanced” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014).

Another had “faith that the government is doing…the best they can…,” and that they were not

“there to try and you know, deceive us or anything, they’re being sincere about it” (Interviewee

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28, 10/23/2014).16 With the increase in regulation and learning from past mistakes, as well as the presence of “activist groups,” at least one interviewee was optimistic that if Site C was approved,

“… they’re gonna do it, hopefully, right… you know, ecologically, that, it’s gonna be done under a very watchful eye” (Interviewee 14, 8/26/2014).

4.4.4 Land and Change: Enhancing Nature

4.4.4.1 “Imagine if It Was My Home”

Given the attention given to doing Site C “right,” supporters could live with its impacts.

Many recognized the beauty of the valley and others’ attachments to it; some regretted, even felt uncomfortable about, the need to flood it, but were able to put their discomfort aside for the sake of what Site C could provide. An out-of-town contractor, for example, seemed to appreciate the valley’s beauty: he said that driving through it, he had felt “angst” about “what we are doing here, because it’s so beautiful, but…” his voice trailed off, implying that he could suppress that angst in his hopes for work on the project (Fieldnotes, 7/29/14).

A self-described “Northeast BC girl,” and rather ambivalent Site C supporter, admitted to being “torn on Site C.” She was “born and raised here, and I really like the Peace River, you know, it’s such an integral part of our region. It’s what we’re named after and it’s extremely beautiful. I’ve lived in a lot of other areas and you’re hard-pressed to find a place as pretty as the

Peace.” That connection to the land affects the experience of life in Fort St John and

16 Trust, or lack of it, in the state and industry institutions that oversee development often influences perceptions of resource industry (Avci, Adaman, & Özkaynak, 2010). Willow also found that trust for “governmental decision- making and regulatory competence” was an important factor distinguishing active supporters of development, including Site C and extractive industries, in the Peace region, from active opponents and those who were neutral, with numerous supporters expressing “faith in the process” (Willow, 2019). Trust/distrust in government decision- makers at all levels and resource extraction companies was also a significant point of difference between supporters and opponents of Taseko Mines’ proposed copper-gold mine, also in rural British Columbia (Wellburn, 2009).

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distinguished it from other resource towns, she believed. Having also lived in Fort McMurray

(the other quintessential Canadian oil and gas town), she reflected that one reason people stay in

Fort St John, in a way they do not tend to stay in Fort McMurray, is that while few live off the land anymore, “you can actually live on the land here… I find, people don’t stay in a place, long, if they’ve got no affinity for the land.” The reason she “keep[s] coming back” to Fort St John is

“probably…that I actually have an affinity to this land, and I think that matters to people.” All things considered, however, if the province was bound to need additional power sooner or later, a dam on the Peace “makes the most sense” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014).

Although this woman was the only pro-Site C interviewee who explained her own affinity for land so explicitly, she was not alone in appreciating it. Site C supporters I spoke to were aware that families would have to leave farms and ranches their families had occupied for two, three, or more generations. Although some did not “have a lot of compassion,” (Interviewee

22, 10/6/2014), saying that the landowners have been, or will be, well-compensated and may even benefit from living on land BC Hydro bought from them a decade or more ago (as was true for some, but not all, valley farmers), many were more sympathetic. They understood the attachment to particular pieces of land, and the emotional impact on people who would lose their homes, even putting themselves in their shoes. Speaking of families relocating, one said,

“… that’s very serious in my mind. I mean, many of these families have raised their families there, their children have grown up…you love the land, I mean, regardless of whether you live in the city or you’re on a farm. … You’re relocating somebody that doesn’t want to relocate… you’re taking them out of an environment that has their life in it… it has to be a recognition that this isn’t just about the base value of property. This has to be recognition of what this means to your life and what you’ve done over the years on that land…” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014).

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They advocated for generous compensation for the displaced landowners but overall believed that the dam is in the public interest; they “get” the non-monetary value of land (in the terms of the farmer quoted in Chapter 3), yet support significant flooding of land in the name of what is best for society. Acknowledging that the dam would displace second and third generation farmers from “good land,” one interviewee could “imagine if it was my home, your darn rights

I’d be upset…. they could offer me all the money in the world to buy it, but that’s my home

…and now they’re gonna be uprooted and moved, yeah, that is a huge downside.” On the other hand, for the sake of “6000 acres of beautiful land that’s gonna be…destroyed, when you take a look at the sacrifice of a few, for the greater good, then that decision is not that hard to make”

(Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

4.4.4.2 “We Have Lots of Land”

Similarly, the fact that Site C supporters accepted the potential ecological consequences of the dam did not mean they dismissed environmental concerns entirely. Climate change and financial sustainability considerations weighed more heavily with them than the inundation of agricultural land and wildlife habitat, however, so that for at least some supporters, Site C was an ecologically neutral, if not positive, choice. One interviewee even linked his ecological awareness with his endorsement of Site C when he related that on a recent diving trip, on twelve dives, he saw “four or five abalone in a place that when I was a child, you could do one dive and see 50 or 60. On the exact same spot. So what happened? Right? That’s sad.” Although he had eaten abalone as a child, the fishery had been closed for about fifteen years, “And it’ll never, ever, ever open again, because we didn’t manage our resource. We exploited it.” With this experience in mind, he not only made sure that when his wife hunted, all the meat was usable, to

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“…just make sure that we respected it,” but also connected this concern for resource management with his support for Site C:

“Maybe that’s why I think [Site C] is okay—we’re gonna lose some farmland, we’re gonna impact the animals and wildlife, but we’re gonna build some fish habitat, we’re gonna build some frog habitat, we’re gonna maybe provide a sustainable resource for the wildlife to drink from. As long as we do it right.” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014)

Another interviewee contemplated what would happen when the world’s agricultural land was no longer available, projecting a grievous scenario:

“… you know the land is a necessary part of what we are and what we will be, because without it there is nothing anymore. If we run out of arable land, we have no food anymore. We can have all the cattle we want, if they have nothing to eat then…we don’t have food, and so the cycle goes” (Interviewee 12, 8/20/2014).

He and other Site C supporters generally seemed unworried, however, about the land that would be flooded by the potential dam, concluding the benefits were worth the costs in other uses of the land foregone. One interviewee explained that if Site C would “disrupt thousands and thousands of acres of beautiful farmland and was gonna destroy that, and…uproot thousands of people and destroy Native heritage sites and First Nations sites,” he would “say we can’t do this, we have to look for another location” (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014), but most considered the

5660 hectares (approximately 14,000 acres) of land to be flooded, including old-growth forest as well as Class 1 farmland, to be relatively insignificant in the context of farm and forest land available in northeast BC. For a former forest worker, even though Site C would impinge on the forest land base he had always held “sacred,” it was “a sacrifice I think that’s worth making”

(Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014). “We have lots of farmland,” commented other interviewees, and what will be flooded is “not even a blip on the screen,” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014) relative to the advantages of the dam. 108

Because much of the farmland that would be flooded is currently used to grow hay, or not seeded at all, and because locally grown food makes up a very low proportion of the total food consumed in the area anyway, pro-Site C interviewees argued that the loss of such land would not have a noticeable effect on the future food supply. A long-time area resident admitted to being “taken aback” to learn at the public hearings that the valley microclimate allowed for growing vegetables, but this did not alter his approval of Site C (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

Another supporter did not

“accept that we are going to devastate ourselves and our ability to generate the food we need because of what we’re doing with this land, impacted land… I do recognize that we’re gonna lose some valuable farmland. Do I think we can carry on and grow as a society and meet our needs? Yes, I do” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014) and a third agreed that “We can still continue to grow food while the dam is taking up some agricultural space” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014).

Most Site C supporters I spoke to were likewise unconcerned about the effects of Site C on wildlife. Although one pro-Site C interviewee noted that if he thought Site C would have significant impacts on wildlife, he would not support it, most did not expect that animals or their habitat would suffer unduly. As always, they believed, animals would adjust their behaviour in response to environmental circumstances. While critics worried about the ungulates who use small islands in the Peace River as havens for calving, as well as whether animals who normally swim across the river would be capable of crossing the lake, Site C supporters were optimistic that they would manage. Wildlife is “very smart,” and “able to live off the land base,” so the moose population, for example, will survive the loss of island calving grounds “because they adapt, and have been for thousands of years” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014). Likewise, another interviewee was “sure” that caribou and other animals would find a way to get around or across 109

the reservoir. While acknowledging the importance of environmental conservation, he simply did not see Site C and its impacts as a significant environmental threat:

We gotta look after our streams and rivers and make sure fish aren’t polluted, make sure we don’t overhunt and don’t overfish, and we don’t overcut the forests. In this case, we’re gonna flood 80 km... We’re not stealing water and we’re not stealing land. … I just can’t see the negative effects on anything. The critters and creatures that live around the river are just gonna move up from the river. The caribou are gonna find a way to migrate across that lake, they’re not gonna stop, it’s not even gonna be that wide, I mean they’ll swim. They’re gonna keep goin, I’m positive of that” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014).

Just as they had “relocated to another habitat” in response to flooding from previous dams, with

Site C the animals “will just move further back, and they will just be as vibrant as they are today,” concluded another (Interviewee 27, 10/23/2014).

4.4.4.3 Everything Changes

On the other hand, even if animals are affected, this is part of an ongoing process of change, as another Site C supporter explained. As human populations inexorably grow, animal populations correspondingly decline, but nature adjusts. To the “bleeding hearts worrying about bears” he responded that many animals would be displaced, and “some of them will survive, some of them will be able to exist in other areas, and some won’t.” But, he said “that’s a sacrifice…” implying that it would be both worthwhile and ultimately unavoidable. When the earth’s population increases from 7 billion to 15 or even 30 billion people, inevitably “there’s gonna be a hell of a lot less animals here.” Species and conditions change, pass away, and are replaced by others in a natural cycle, as he elaborated:

“it’s like taking this lot [his property], and every time I build a building on it, I take land base out of existence for other purposes, and conceivably I could have this whole lot covered with buildings and you would have no land, and no mice and no spiders and no ants—hopefully [laughs]. So, I mean, that’s—to simplify it, I’m not hung up on the environmental part of it like that. I think nature deals with that stuff. And, I mean, it could be conceivably replaced with other, 110

maybe not wildlife, but maybe fish, or dragon flies [chuckles]” (Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014).

Several other Site C supporters I spoke with shared this view that change is constant and inevitable, and not necessarily bad. The environment itself is constantly changing, even without human intervention, they emphasized. “People say we should put the land base back to the way it was… ok, I’m in favour of that—would you like me to put it back the way it was 10 years ago,

100 years ago, or a thousand years ago?” asked one interviewee… Because the earth has been changing for thousands of years” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014). Although people may be attached to a particular place the way it is now, it is misguided, impossible to fix the environment in a moment in time: “if nature is ever evolving, do we want to put it in a static state? Well, we can’t. Nature won’t allow itself to be put in a static state” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014).

4.4.4.4 Natural Change

Because humans are part of the environment, human-caused change is also part of, and difficult or impossible to distinguish from natural change, pro-Site C interviewees argued. Any distinction between “pristine nature” and “human-tampered” nature is “an interesting concept because nature in and of itself is so quickly evolving, it’s hard to know when it’s the anthropological footprint that affects it, or if it’s just nature’s way of responding and fixing itself all on its own” (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014). In fact, human-caused change is natural change; one

Site C supporter put it this way: “Whether BC Hydro builds the dam, or I bring in a thousand beavers, and dam the river, it's going to be natural” (Interviewee 12, 8/20/2014). Anthropogenic environmental change, in their view(s), is not inherently good or bad, any more than other environmental change, and the consequences of human activity may be negative or positive.

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Environmental impacts of projects such as Site C were considered part of this ongoing process of transformation. Impacts are changes, according to one interviewee, and need not

“always be considered in the negative… Having a new child is an impact. It’s a change, and it’s something you have to understand, mitigate, deal with and adapt to…” Progress is simply positive change: “… things never stay still, so you’re going forwards or backwards, so progress is moving forward in a positive direction…” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

4.4.4.5 “Everything We Do Has an Impact”

Moreover, as these Site C supporters were quite aware, all types of human activity have environmental impacts. They acknowledged these impacts pragmatically; since they cannot be avoided, our responsibility is to mitigate them as much as possible, and to accept that there will be some unpleasant consequences in exchange for our lives and lifestyles:

“… everything we do has an environmental impact, and that includes going for a walk…building our homes…driving the vehicles that we need in our day to day lives, so if we do the best we can to mitigate the impacts that we apply to this earth on our day to day living, then I’m okay with that…” (Interviewee 23, 10/10/2014).

So, although Site C would have significant impacts, as many supporters recognized—"erosion… introducing equipment, and diesel and oils to fish habitat…remov[ing] a mountain to get the gravel to build it… drilling… blasting…wildlife interruption… damage to fish habitat with having machinery in the water”—overall, they felt these impacts would be acceptable

(Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014). “In the long run, I think [the final outcome will just be that] some farmers are going to lose a little bit of land…” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014), a loss that would be outweighed by the advantages of the dam in this interviewee’s opinion. In some cases, there might be reasons not to go ahead with an industrial project, such as “proposing the use of a lake

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to put mine waste into, that would be tough to swallow,” but, for Site C, “if you look at the big picture …there’s huge spin-off benefits” (Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014), agreed another.

4.4.4.6 Improving on Nature

Site C supporters believed that human alterations may even improve on or enhance nature; one interviewee even defined “nature” as “anything without an improvement, or human improvement” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014). Forest reclamation techniques such as enhancing or replacing fish habitat elsewhere to compensate for disturbed streams, or burning brush and replanting more desirable trees, may create sites that are “far better now than they were originally,” explained a former forester, though he realized that not everyone would agree

(Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014).17

Thus, the changes brought by Site C might even be positive in some eyes. The 83-km reservoir created by the dam might create more precipitation, a “favourable” change according to one dam supporter’s thinking (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). Others felt the new reservoir might even be positive for wildlife, by providing fish habitat, frog habitat, and “maybe a sustainable resource for the wildlife to drink from” (Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014), and by helping to “regulate water flow on the river,” to the benefit of “fish stock” as well as recreationalists (Interviewee 12,

8/20/2014). More commonly, interviewees suggested that the recreational opportunities the new

“lake” would offer would be a key benefit of the project. Although at first use of the lake would

17 Willow found that among Peace Region residents she interviewed who actively supported extractive industry (including Site C), fewer than half were concerned with extractive industry’s potential impacts on “ecological integrity of the land.” At the same time, an equal number of active industry supporters suggested that extractive industry could improve ecological integrity by “restoring previously utilized land.” In this they showed a “striking difference” from active and passive opponents of industry, those who were neutral, and even those who passively supported industry, all of whom expressed concern about the ecological effects of extractive industry (2019, no page numbers).

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be restricted due to the dangers of the sloughing from the banks, eventually a large body of flat water, “accessible to families,” would allow for a greater variety of recreation: water-skiing, tubing, and sailing, in addition to the currently popular riverboating (Interviewee 26,

10/22/2014).

Supporters’ opinions on the recreational potential of the Site C reservoir reflected the view that it is possible for something human-made to be superior to something natural:

“…if they clean it all up, and make it nice…all I see is a natural progression of becoming one of the most sought after recreation areas in British Columbia …the whiners and the complainers will see in the beginning [the project], as a detriment, but you'll find that as time goes on, and that lake is created… and the parks are put in… and the campgrounds…and they build the…ladders for the fish…I think you'll see an enhancement to nature that will be unsurpassed…” (Interviewee 12, 8/20/2014).

The distinction between human-made and natural was not even particularly important to one Site

C supporter, who said: “Sometimes lakes are made naturally and sometimes they’re made artificially. Either way, they generally are positive thing” (Interviewee 25, 10/21/2014).

If the environment is perpetually evolving, it is legitimate and reasonable, even morally desirable, in this view, for humans to direct that change to best suit themselves, maximizing positive changes and minimizing negative ones, as supporters believed Site C would do. Schultz contends that the idea of “improving on nature,” suggesting that there is “automatically more value in the products of human endeavour than in nature’s creations,” which is central to this argument, is a “euphemism” intended to portray resource development activities as “benign, or even actually beneficial to the environment” (Schultz, 2006, 111). The idea that humans may

“improve” land by their labour, however, dates back at least as far as the influential philosopher

John Locke, who, in 1690 wrote that “land that is left wholly to nature, that hath no improvement of pasturage, tillage, or planting” (he could not have contemplated hydro-electric dams) “is 114

called, as indeed it is, waste; and we shall find the benefit of it amount to little more than nothing”(Locke, 2003, 118). I suggest, then, with Blechman et al., that the deep-rooted “stories about how the world is [and] how it should be,” mentioned earlier are not “just fancied up rationalizations for a set of calculations about people’s interests” but hold “motivational power” in environmental conflicts that involve competing realities (2000, 24).

4.5 Site C Opponents

4.5.1 Anti-Site C View

For Site C opponents, on the other hand, the project was not part of a process of inevitable change, or a way for humans to improve the existing valley to better meet their needs, but a “loss” and a “waste.” Unlike most pro-Site C interviewees, some Site C opponents I interviewed would be personally affected by the dam as landowners in or near the inundation zone. The majority were activists who had put time, effort, and money into opposing Site C, in some cases since Site C was first put forward as a possibility in the early 1980s (see Chapter 6:

(footnote 31)). Site C not only threatened their own land and most beloved places but outraged their sense of the right way to treat the environment, meet human needs, and preserve ecological health.

Looking to the future, they saw food, not power, as the priority need, and feared the consequences if food-producing capacity was reduced. They believed that technology could contribute to sustainability by replacing hydro-electric dams, not by improving them; however, their view of sustainable development emphasized, not simply reduced impacts or financial stability, but respect for natural limits. Once those limits have been exceeded (as they believed was happening in the region), it is beyond human power to restore the natural systems that humans ultimately depend on. Thus, they saw large-scale human-induced changes as wrong, 115

because they irreparably degraded nature’s creations, and caused troubling consequences for humans, animals and the environment.

4.5.2 “We’re Gonna Have to Stop Progress”

4.5.2.1 “Producing Landfill Material”

Site C opponents I spoke with generally rejected the idea of “progress” through ever- increasing development; they associated the word with the assumption that development is automatically positive, and with a lack of consideration for the full range of its human and environmental costs. One anti-Site C activist said that progress “scares” her because it is connected to “materialism and consumption of goods that we don’t need,” and “usually means consuming a bunch of resources and producing a bunch of wasteful landfill site material.” Over- emphasis on increasing the GDP and constantly “striving for money…to purchase more stuff” does not improve human wellbeing, she maintained: “why can’t we lower our standard of living, and enjoy life? Like, life is supposed to be a gift, and we’re working our tails off” (instead of enjoying it) (Interviewee 6, 12/3/2013). Site C opponents rejected the possibility of continuous economic growth, arguing that true progress requires a change of course:

“I think the first thing we have to do is cut down the world population. That would be progress. And, if we cut out the number of gas-burning vehicles, that would be progress… when I think of progress, I think of California, and they’re progressing in the wrong direction, because they’re running outta water…” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014).

Responding to a common belief shared by many Site C supporters that “you can’t stop progress,” one representative anti-Site C interviewee declared that “well, somehow along the way, we’re gonna have to stop progress, or we’re gonna have nothing left” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014).

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4.5.2.2 “All the Other Places Are Being Wrecked”

Site C opponents I spoke to generally saw a need to move away from societal focus on consumption and the pursuit of economic growth, not to facilitate them through additional energy generation. They often emphasized that “we’re not against development,” but most espoused a definition of sustainable development that operates within limits imposed by the environment. While one anti-Site C interviewee, along with Site C supporters, pointed to

“technological innovations,” that allow for a “lighter footprint” (Interviewee 7, 7/4/2014), for most, the criterion for sustainability was not that a development or technique, practice, or project should have comparatively lower impacts than others, but that it allows the affected natural system to regenerate.

Like Site C supporters, opponents recognized that “just by your sheer existence you leave a footprint” as one activist put it (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013), but several invoked a concept of stewardship that meant working to maintain the functions of natural systems and refraining from

“wrecking” ecosystems and their ability to recover. That is,

“if the footprint can be erased, then you’ve got some sustainability and some stewardship going on if you’re managing it…So, if I…clear an area…for use for a year, and then…make sure that trees go back in and it grows back up again, and my footprint’s erased? Then, that’s good. But if I use something, and just destroy it, for a long period of time, and it can’t come back…a good example would be the Alberta tar sands, they’ve got an area twice the size of New York City in tailings ponds, right? That is not sustainable” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

Experiencing the “exponential” growth in extractive industry all around them (FSJ CoC, 2015, 6; see Chapters 2 and 8), Site C opponents believed that these limits were already being met, if not exceeded. While supporters of Site C believed there was plenty of land in the region to accommodate a dam and reservoir, along with other industry, without impinging on agriculture

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or wildlife habitat, opponents communicated a sense of being assailed on all sides by the cumulative impacts of existing development, an almost panicky sense that “there is nothing/nowhere left” and that the entire area has been ruined, or is about to be.

With the effects of multiple industries converging, they felt it was all the more important to preserve the Peace Valley, one of the few relatively undeveloped areas in the region. “Can’t we have one little spot left here that’s not being destroyed, like you go out in the bush, there’s so much…seismic lines and there’s pipelines, and nothing is left,” cried a long-term resident, “…I think the valley is really important, because all the other places around Fort St John…are being wrecked” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014).

Impacts of resource development already seemed overwhelming, yet were apparently to increase, with disastrous consequences:

“…there’s just too much short-term thinking. Everything is for the moment. Get rid of our natural resources, ruin our country, if we’re going to make big money out of it. But for how long? [to me] Your grandchildren or great- grandchildren are going to be living in a wasteland” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014).

Site C would not only result in its own impacts, inundating the Peace Valley, their last remaining treasure, the “jewel in the crown” (Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014), but might, as many opponents

(and supporters) believed, facilitate the expansion of LNG production, compounding impacts and fueling the very consumption and growth that opponents wanted to decelerate.

4.5.2.3 “The People Who Live Here Become Expendable”

Site C opponents I interviewed did not trust authorities to contain impacts, or to balance growth and conservation.18 They did not share supporters’ faith in the government and regulators

18 See footnote 16 118

to ensure that Site C, or development in general, was done “properly,” but on the contrary, expressed a sense of being sold out and sidelined by a government focused on industrialization.

Characterizing the provincial government attitude, a local leader said “Build anything and everything. So, if you can chop it down or dig it out or dam it up, that’s a priority,” but “the people who live here…become sort of expendable…The ‘Victoria crowd’ believe that those who don’t want [an oil] well in their backyard had better move to town” (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013).

Or as another interviewee put it, “some of our governments have got this idea wrapped around their heads that exploitation is a God-given right, you know. It’s your duty” (Interviewee 2,

8/15/2013).19

4.5.3 The Promise of New Technology—"Getting with the 21st Century”

Furthermore, critics saw no practical need for Site C, even on proponents’ own terms.

Pointing out that the “brownouts or blackouts” that BC Hydro had “threatened” if Site C were not constructed in the 1980s had never materialized (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014), veteran activists argued that their electricity demand forecasts are consistently inflated, or “exploded over what they have ever used” (Interviewee 5, 11/28/2013), and that BC does not currently need additional power. The fact that the rationale for Site C seemed to keep changing contributed to their scepticism. One interviewee reported that between 2010 and 2014 “I think I counted seven reasons for [Site] C:” export to California, power for 410,00 homes in BC, LNG, natural gas extraction, the tar sands, “then they went back to 450,000 homes, and then…. industry,” and

19 It may seem odd that the presumably more left-leaning anti-Site C group distrusted the government, while the Site C supporters, who included self-described “free enterprise conservatives” put more faith in it; however, not only does the region consistently elect right-of-centre legislators, but avowedly pro-industry governments were in power both provincially and federally at the time of this research, which may explain why Site C opponents did not feel represented. 119

finally, “back to California” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014).

If additional power were needed, Site C opponents felt there were better ways to generate it. They vehemently disputed the characterization of hydro power as “clean,” when it would eliminate the valley as they knew it. They felt that the project’s costs in terms of inundated agricultural land and wildlife habitat and other environmental impacts, as well as human costs

(loss of traditional land use, loss of individual homes, and social/societal stress), outweighed its purported low greenhouse gas emissions, which they also disputed. Because “emissions and climate change seems to be the hot button topic at the moment,” concern for “the environment, destruction of systems…seems to have dropped off the table a bit, so people seem to be willing to take more of an environmental hit, these days, under the guise of it not impacting the atmosphere…which is not true either…but that’s one of the ways this thing [Site C] is bein’ positioned” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), explained one interviewee.

In Site C opponents’ view, hydroelectric power is outdated, superseded by new and emerging alternatives, and the project lacks vision. One of the most vocal and determined anti-

Site C activists admitted that “… if this project was the only way there was to generate electricity, and it was for the good of the province, we could understand it, and we wouldn’t fight it. But, when there is so many alternatives out there, and building dams is archaic, we’re gonna fight it” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014). Another argued that “They’re stuck in a 1960s…thought process, and it’s very unhealthy. I think they gotta get with the twenty-first century…you’ve gotta recognize emerging technologies, the new opportunities, and…stewardship of the resources we have” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014). “It’s funny,” added a third, “they’ve been usin’ dams for how many thousands of years…to push more water through their wheel…and they can’t think of anything better or cleaner…” (Interviewee 19, 9/29/2014). 120

4.5.3.1 Renewables and Emerging Technologies

Most anti-Site C interviewees could think of something better or cleaner, as well as cheaper. While Site C supporters were confident that lessons learned from the WAC Bennett dam would minimize the negative consequences of Site C, and that new technologies would allow for resource extraction/fossil fuel use with acceptable impacts, Site C opponents put their technological faith in new, renewable methods of power generation. Unlike supporters, opponents believed that alternative energy-generation technologies, in combination with conservation and existing hydroelectric infrastructure, can meet BC’s power needs, at a lower cost than Site C.

Although many Site C activists were wary of fossil fuels, particularly fracked gas, overall, many were also frustrated that 2012 amendments to the provincial Clean Energy Act

(see Chapter 6) defined LNG as “clean” when exported (or used to power LNG export plants) but non-renewable and greenhouse gas-emitting at home (Dusyk, 2016). Modern natural gas co- generation plants could be “very clean, and extremely efficient,” (Interviewee 20, 9/29/2014), some said, so rather than flood the entire Peace Valley and all its values, they argued for limited,

“sensible” use of natural gas if necessary during peak demand periods, to complement other means of electricity production (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 44).

They looked not only to established generation mechanisms, but also to emerging technologies, which, even if not yet perfected, have potential to be workable by the time Site C would come online. Technologies are just “galloping ahead” on solar energy, and “our sophistication level increases every day” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014), one interviewee enthused.

When Site C was first considered in 1981, producing wind power for the provincial grid was

“way out there,” but “thirty-three years later, wind is now a significant contributor, it’s twenty 121

percent of the German power” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), pointed out another. Other relatively new technologies, such as geothermal, also held promise, if only resources were put into developing them:

“we’ve gotta start looking at what the world might look like twenty years [from now], for our future demands, rather than what we did 40 years ago… Imagine what would have happened if they’d spent that $300 million dollars [already spent on Site C] on developing geothermal, for example” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

4.5.4 The Future: “Destroying Farmland is a Sin”

4.5.4.1 Mouths to Feed

Site C supporters I interviewed were generally more worried about food security than they were about the electricity supply, however. In contrast to Site C supporters, who looked to the future and a growing population and saw increased need for clean power, opponents saw mouths to feed. Site C supporters felt that even if additional power is not needed today, it will inevitably be needed at some point; however, they argued that the Peace Valley is not currently producing significant amounts of food, and therefore need not be set aside for agriculture. Site C opponents argued the reverse: available power currently meets provincial needs; when and if the province requires more power, there are ways to generate it on a shorter timeline, without flooding an agricultural valley. On the other hand, even if contributions from the Peace Valley are not immediately needed for the provincial food supply, it will become an essential resource as demand grows and available farmland shrinks.

4.5.4.2 Corn, Cantaloupe and Melons

Site C opponents acknowledged that much of the valley is currently being used to farm hay and canola rather than food crops; however, they explained this as a result of the flood reserve (a policy in place since the 1950s, by which Crown land within the reserve cannot be 122

developed for other purposes, to allow for a possible dam). Although there are no restrictions on private land, landowners have hesitated to invest heavily on land which might be subject to flooding at some time outside their control. The valley’s potential for producing “market garden” crops (fruit and vegetables) is “phenomenal,” stressed many anti-Site C activists (Interviewee 2,

8/15/2013). They pointed out that the valley’s unique micro-climate and rich soil allow for unexpected crops such as “sweet corn,” (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013), “cantaloupe and melons!

Yellow melons, just gorgeous, as sweet as could be…that’s the kind of productivity in the valley” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014). If the flood reserve were removed, some of the valley could be converted to market gardening to take advantage of this productivity:

“There shouldn’t be wheat or canola or hay or any of that stuff in the bottom of this valley…This valley should be orchards, this valley should be corn, this valley should be tomatoes and cucumbers and broccoli…because this is the only place [in Northern BC] you can grow it” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

The Peace River Valley might represent “only a small fraction” of the thousands of hectares of arable land in the area, “but it’s the only high, high quality farmland in the whole north. For a long ways. You gotta go a long ways South to get the same productivity”, according to a valley- bottom farmer (Interviewee 16, 8/27/2014).

4.5.4.3 Bringing the 100-Mile Diet Closer to Home

But “do we need that market garden potential here today? Nope,” conceded Site C opponents. Although food grown in the region, or the province, does not currently constitute a high proportion of food consumed locally, they looked to the near future, when they expected that to change. Refrigerators might now be full of fruit and vegetables from thousands of miles away, but “that’s gonna change. In spades.” Because of “climate change, and [the end of] cheap energy” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

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Contemporary agriculture using large tractors and machinery depends on inexpensive oil, a farmer explained, but “that’s not gonna last” (Interviewee 4, 11/28/2013). In addition, with oil extraction becoming more and more energy-intensive, food transportation costs are also “gonna go through the roof…We’re not going to be able to afford to get kiwi fruit from New Zealand or mangoes from Cuba…” Fuel costs would be only part of the problem, however; climate change

“is going to pretty well shut down our ability as a globe…to supply seven moving on to nine billion people… It’s not going to be sustainable, what we’re doing right now, and the climate is going to ensure it” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013). With the climate warming, “we’re going to need our best land to combat the effects of climate change that we’ve burned up using all that oil,” because drought in the southern US and Mexico is “gonna bring the 100-mile diet a little closer to home” (Interviewee 4, 11/28/2013) added the farmer above. On the other hand, as the climate changes, new agricultural possibilities might open up in the Peace Valley if it remains intact:

“with global warming, we might be growing plums and oranges, who knows what we might be able to grow down there, and if we flood it, we’re gonna lose all that,” he reflected (Interviewee

4, 11/28/2013).

4.5.4.4 Civilization or Not

Site C opponents foresaw climate change and rising energy costs interacting with population growth to threaten food security locally and globally, lending a moral angle to their determination to save the valley. Though the agricultural potential of the Peace Valley is not appreciated while the provincial population remains small, at four and a half million people, the valley’s agricultural capacity will become increasingly important as the population grows, they believed (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014). On the other hand, if Site C eliminated the valley bottom land, one critic’s greatest fear was that “the Peace River Country and everything north of here 124

[would be] forever condemned to try and import their food supply. Forever” (Interviewee 2,

8/15/2013). He expected that these consequences of Site C would impact his family directly:

“How else is [Site C] gonna impact on me? Knowing my kids are gonna be facing a food shortage, and it’s not if, it’s when. Because of that dam” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

Food scarcity caused by Site C might be part of a larger pattern of shortages around the world, shortages they feared would have dangerous and far-reaching civilizational consequences.

“Food is the belly of the nation that gets it going in the morning. And if you don’t have good quality and lots of food, you’re going to have a problem, and right now, it looks okay, but, you know, give it another 20 or 30 years, it’ll be a different picture,” commented a farmer, citing the

Soviet Union as a “civilization … that failed, and it was because they couldn’t produce sufficient food for the population” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014). If climate-change induced drought caused three of the “major five breadbaskets of the world” to collapse simultaneously for three years, all too possible according to another interviewee, the results would be catastrophic in the region, the country, and around the world: “massive war, massive emigration from other countries… our resource base is going to collapse, food is going to become the number one commodity in the world, a lot of the poorest people in Africa and even in South America are gonna have major problems.” Complete social breakdown could follow within only a few days, and Canada might not be exempt from the effects: nine meals, he said is the difference between “civilization and not…Go without nine consecutive meals, especially if you have a family that’s doing it, and you’ll do whatever it takes…and the US is armed to the teeth” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

In the face of this dismal picture, Site C opponents considered it outrageous and immoral to flood good agricultural land. The PRRD Chair told the Site C Joint Review Panel (JRP) that in the integrated world economy, “It is just not appropriate to lose this food-growing land when you 125

consider how quickly the population of the world is growing” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 187) , and a farmer I interviewed said that “food, in the next 50 years is going to be a real concern worldwide, and to destroy any kind of farmland is a sin” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014). Given that a few centimetres of soil take hundreds of years to develop, putting the “prime soil” of the Peace

Valley underwater, to another interviewee would be “morally, ethically, if not legally negligent…That would be like saying we’re going to take a big chunk of our atmosphere and burn it. (Well, we’re doing that anyway)” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013). Or, put differently: “…to destroy 100 kilometres and the best growing parts of the whole northern half of the province for one LNG plant. Like, what kind of a dinosaur would come up with that idea?” (Interviewee 2,

8/15/2013).

4.5.5 Land and Change: An Irreplaceable Treasure

While supporters often saw anthropogenic modification of the landscape as part of a wider process of continuous natural change, for Site C opponents, such changes were personally painful and not morally neutral. They spoke of serious and wide-ranging consequences of the dam, in terms of “damage” to the natural environment, as well as to their own lives and psyches.

They saw the Peace Valley as a treasure whose values could never be equaled or replicated by human efforts; for example, the PVEA website opens with the statement that “The Peace River valley is an irreplaceable natural asset. There is only one Peace River valley, and its soils, habitat and beauty can never be regained once it has been dammed and flooded” (Peace Valley

Environment Association, n.d.-a). As well as the effects on agriculture, Site C opponents were

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concerned about the effects of the flooding on wildlife, and their own connection to the valley as a natural and social place.20

4.5.5.1 Where Would Wildlife Go?

Site C opponents did not share supporters’ optimism regarding the resilience of wildlife if the valley were flooded. Many anti-Site C interviews gave a great deal of attention to wildlife.

They enjoyed talking about animals they had encountered and would break off mid-sentence during an interview to point out an animal or bird coming into view, even when such sightings were common for them. They had personal experience of the prolific wildlife in the valley, often on their own land, and feared that Site C threatened it. Pointing across the valley, one landowner told me, “… see those hills over there …I’ve seen 200 elk on there,” and “see this field below the house—I’ve seen 100 deer and eleven bears on it at once. If Site C comes in, that will be gone” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

Because of these observations at home and around the region (as well as scientific training in a few cases), they had detailed knowledge of these animals and their habits. One interviewee told me with pride, “…if you took a walk with me… I’d be able to point out almost any animal track for you, tell you what it was, and how old it was, and how long ago it was there… I couldn’t tell you what sex it was, maybe with a moose I could…” (Interviewee 2,

8/15/2013). Many took note of changes in behaviour or patterns of movement and seasonal land use, like a senior farmer who had been feeding and watching birds his whole life, but

“particularly in the last fifty years,” who told me that overall populations are declining, and that

20 Although not the focus in this chapter, many were also concerned about the effect on First Nations’ people and their exercise of their treaty rights. 127

“last winter…there was several species of birds that never showed up at all, and we used to have hundreds of them” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014).

Site C activists were therefore very aware of how animals used the valley at different times of year, as they watched them come and go on their land. A farmer’s riverside field where snow melted sooner than elsewhere hosted white-tailed deer especially in the early springtime, for example. “We see white-tailed deer comin’ to the…fields, because the fields start baring off early,” but by the time farming starts up, “the wildlife have dispersed into the different areas, and they’re not concentrated on the fields” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014). The valley’s value for wildlife, the farmer explained, is not only in the low human population, but in the range of habitat available at different times of year, the combination of “the bare land…the forest, the hills, the…diverse levels…of valley, that can handle a lot of species” (Interviewee 15,

8/27/2014). Among these diverse habitats are the small islands in the river, which provide a

“nursery for wildlife,” a safe place for ungulates to calve (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013). The micro- climate of the low-lying, south-facing slopes also acts as a wildlife refuge at key moments. “The big game, in the summertime, they can pretty much live anywhere, and they do. They spread all over, but the real critical thing about the valley is the winter range” (Interviewee 16, 8/27/2014), according to one interviewee. Another added that animals may not always take advantage of the valley, but when they need it, it is vital; some species “only need the valley some years and maybe only for a short period,” like the white-tailed deer that only come to the valley in spring and summer. A “little valley that comes down Cache Creek…that is used for, maybe sometimes only a few weeks maybe or certain species, and some years not at all” (Interviewee 1,

8/14/2013). In the context of expanding resource development and corresponding shrinkage of wildlife habitat, many Site C opponents did not believe that wildlife would be able to adapt, 128

relocate, and avoid negative consequences if the valley were inundated. They questioned not only where animals would find the specialized aspects offered by the valley, but where they would be able to go at all.

4.5.5.2 Place Attachment

4.5.5.2.1 A Reservoir Is Not a River

For interviewees opposed to Site C, the project also threatened their bond with the land, as it would directly affect the place they cherished most. Unlike Site C supporters, who often expressed non-specific enjoyment of the outdoors in general, many Site C opponents were specifically attached to the Peace River Valley in its current state. Many of them—long-time farmers, ranchers, hunters, fishers, canoeists—had “feelings for the land” (see Chapter 3), that, unlike those of Site C supporters I spoke to, were specific to the Peace River Valley, not just any land.21 They did not envisage the changes that would be brought by the dam to be improvements, but disruptions to their enjoyment of recreating in the valley and to their sense of home.

Much of the valley’s emotional appeal was aesthetic. Its protected status22 had kept it

“pristine” in comparison to more heavily developed areas nearby, “almost…like…in a time capsule” (Interviewee, 16 8/27/2014); his farm overlooking the valley was “possibly the most beautiful place on the face of the planet,” according to one farmer (Interviewee 4, 11/28/2013).

For some, this beauty was itself an argument against flooding it: “The thing is so crazy…to ruin

21 Willow (2019) found that place attachment was a common reason given for not supporting extractive industry among the people she interviewed in the Peace River Region. 22 As well as the flood reserve, the valley has also been part of the province’s Agricultural Land Reserve; in addition, the south bank of the river was within the Peace-Boudreau Protected Area, a defacto protected area, without roads, “left as wilderness” (Interviewee 16, 8/27/2014). Although those opposed to Site C resented the flood reserve, they also acknowledged its role in preserving the valley. 129

the resources in just, probably the most beautiful river valley in North America” (Interviewee 17,

9/6/2014). They were surprised and disappointed that so few recognize what they have, and that

“there are so many people in this town that think it’s okay” to flood this “complete gem,” who think “‘let’s flood it, and we can go boating,’” instead of being “very, very happy that [they] live here, and very proud that they have one of the most beautiful places on earth…[Other countries] don’t have this…remote beauty…” (Interviewee 20, 9/29/2014).

But for many, the Valley was more than beautiful. A tourism employee recounted that with “shocking” frequency, visitors who had “travelled all over the world,” after driving through the valley would tell her “there's something about this place, I don't know what it is, but there is just something really special about this place.” Although they “can’t tangibly say what it is,” she believed they might be “picking up on” the sacredness and spiritual power of the place that First

Nations elders described (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 85). A flooded valley would lose that intangible “something,” along with much of its beauty; for many, it simply would not be the same place.

A flooded valley would mean many losses for Site C opponents; among these would be the loss of much of the valley’s recreational appeal. They were often dismissive, if not scornful, of “reservoir recreation.” Unlike Site C supporters, who saw the reservoir as a possible enhancement to the river, many opponents emphasized the distinction between a river and a reservoir to the latter’s disadvantage. “A reservoir is not the same as the river…it’s just not the same atmosphere” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014); a reservoir is “less aesthetically pleasing,” “much more stagnant,” “contrived,” and has a “dead shore line…due to the…fluctuating levels of the water,” in contrast to the natural attributes of the “running river” with “life of its own”

(Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014), which still “functions as a river would function,” and where most of 130

the “natural…processes still are able to operate” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), although it passes through the WAC Bennett and Peace Canyon dams. For most of the Site C opponents I spoke to,

“[W]e don’t need more reservoir opportunities, we have one of the largest reservoirs in North

America just above us that we don’t recreate in, it’s not our type of recreation,” (Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014) declared a canoeist and critic of Site C. He conceded, however, that some people might enjoy recreation on a reservoir:

“if you have a big deep-water boat that’s capable of hitting debris and that sort of stuff, and your way of recreation is to see where your indestructible watercraft could go, yeah, well, maybe you’d like a reservoir, but I think there’s many more diverse opportunities on the existing river…everything from canoes and kayaks up to riverboats, all utilize it without fear” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

The recreational values of the existing river were superior to those of a reservoir, explained another interviewee, because, first, the river was simply more engaging:

“you know, the whole visual thing is so much more complex, and you’ve got the islands and you’ve got the hills and the way the hills fold into each other when you’re going down …and there’s something about moving water… I think it’s a primal connection, somehow…that’s a closer connection for humankind…than a lake” (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013).

In addition, the river’s varied terrain allows boaters to get in and out of the water, offering more recreational interest, unlike the steep-sided Williston Reservoir. Furthermore, reservoirs, according to several interviewees, have safety issues that the relatively slow and “family- oriented” Peace River does not have (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), including sudden changes in water level, steep and unstable banks, and sudden windstorms which are not moderated by sheltering islands as they would be in the river. Williston Reservoir is notorious for floating debris and what one interviewee called “tree scud missiles” (Interviewee 19, 9/29/2014) –trees left standing before flooding, which suddenly shoot to the water surface when their roots finally

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give way. Because of the underlying “silty erodable soils” at Site C, people feared “sliding and sloughing” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014) of the reservoir banks for up to a century before the Site

C reservoir stabilized enough to be safe for recreation (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014; Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014; Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014). For all these reasons, Site C opponents believed that the river was best left in its natural state.

4.5.5.2.2 Valley Stories

The Peace Valley was more than a recreational site for many Site C opponents; it was their home. Long periods, even generations, of growing up, living and working on the land, created “place attachment” (Altman & Low, 1992), often expressed through stories, in which memories of specific people (often family), and of specific incidents (often from childhood) were associated with specific spots along the river. A twenty-something man, for example, remembered how, as a child, “one my mum’s favourite trips…for years…one of our weekend things,” would be driving through the valley, stopping at Farrell Creek or Holland Park, and how, shooting prairie chickens at Bear Flat, he found “this one spot where you…can really see the whole valley, and you’re just on the side of this coulee, it’s perfect…” (Interviewee 19,

9/29/2014).

And a long-time resident remembered going to the river with her father, a fishing enthusiast:

“…Now sometimes [he] didn’t catch a fish, but [he] loved to be out there. And we were swimming in the creek… up west of Hudson’s Hope, which is flooded now [by a previous dam] … the road was terribly treacherous then… We’d close our eyes when we were driving down into Bear Flat [between Fort St John and Hudson’s Hope] … one day it must have been so warm, [but my mother’s friend] didn’t have a bathing suit, so she made a kind of a diapery thing out of a tablecloth and went swimming with her bra and her tablecloth! Not that it mattered” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014, speaker’s emphasis).

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As adults, she and her husband also enjoyed boat trips, motoring upriver, so they could “float down. Because the boats were noisy, but we could get places.…” Living in a log cabin with an outdoor toilet and no running water in the early years of their marriage they “didn’t need to camp,” she explained with a laugh, but they took day trips with their dogs; they would “usually build a fire, we’d cook, put a pot of coffee on and mostly it was just [that] nobody else [was] around” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014).

Another valley resident, who grew up in a “little rural community” in the region, spent

“every season…in the wilderness and in the mountains,” from his first guide-outfitting trip at the age of five:

“… I had a horse as long as I can remember, and so I went with my father, which was supposed to be an overnight trip… they were headed into the mountains, we crossed the first major river and I refused to go back…the fellow that was supposed to take me back went back and told my mother that I was going to stay in the mountains for the next two weeks…” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

4.5.5.2.3 Home, Community, History

Stories of the valley featured people as prominently as the land itself; embedded social relations may be as important to the formation of place attachment as the physical landscape

(Low & Altman, 1992). Thus, for people living in the valley on family land, place, memories, and relationship entwined to create home. As a multi-generational resident explained, she was reluctant to leave her home and land, because of what the place represented for her, including ties to family members, living and dead:

“it’s not just that this house is so special. It’s the whole place that makes everything so special… And it’s the memories, … I can visualize grandpa standing on the edge of the bank, when we were kids, talking, and my little… sister… slid underneath the fence, and dad pulled her back, and it’s stuff like that, that you can stand there, when you’re 50 years old, and still have that visual memory, standing in that place, eh. And I don’t have to go knock on the 133

neighbour’s door and ask if I can stand there to recall that memory—it’s right there…” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014).

To those who suggested that she accept financial compensation and simply buy another, equivalent, piece of property, she responded:

“Well, we live here because we love it, and we don’t want to sell it. And there is no other place that we would ever want to buy. I don’t want to buy somebody else’s house. I want to live in my [family] house…it’s that connection to everything that’s related to the property and to the land and to the memories and to the history that goes with it” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014).

However, she realized that many people do not understand this feeling, because “there’s a lot of people nowadays that really don’t have a place they call home.” People who live where they do because of circumstances, such as a job, do not realize that “when you’re born and raised on that piece of property, it becomes part of you,” and cannot be replaced with another property or with money, “that it’s not just a dollar value, that you have that connection to the land for”

(Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014). As her neighbour put it, “it’s apples and oranges. You have dollars, and you have these… values that are intrinsic to the property for you through memories or whatever …it’s the intangible values that they [BC Hydro] can’t even contemplate what they are…because they don’t operate in that sort of world” (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013).

The thought of leaving the valley was wrenching for another landowner whose riverfront land would be partially flooded. His grandfather having come to the valley in the early 1900s, his family had “pretty deep roots in the area, both community, family, economically, land-wise.”

Starting fresh somewhere else, after having been a pillar of the community, would be difficult, if not impossible; although finding physical shelter elsewhere would be feasible, “… to show up in another community, and basically be an outsider for the rest of your life… I would think that that

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would be just about irreplaceable. Probably the option would be to go into the loony-bin,” he said, only half joking (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

The departure of long-term residents and landowners would also cause changes to the social life of their beloved place for those who remained, changes that would not be positive, or neutral, but negative, as some interviewees were aware. The region has a community fabric, woven over time, and the departure of these central community members would leave a large hole, they believed. Looking at the crowd at a Site C consultation event, one activist pointed out to the Fort St John mayor the high proportion of long-time community members among those protesting the project:

“every one of those people have a history here. They’re part of this community, they’ve contributed to the community, they are influential in the community, they have grassroots here. And the community is important to them… they are part of this place. They’re the long-term residents and …every one of them are going to leave if Site C comes in. … you’re gonna be mayor of people who parachute in here for their 5-year, quick-fix nest egg, and then leave… That’s what you’re going to be mayor of. The stability in your community is going to disappear” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

For many Site C opponents, the Peace Valley embodies not only home and community, but millennia of human history, which would also be washed away by the dam. Some Euro-

Canadian families who had developed relationships with First Nations members in the course of opposing Site C acknowledged that “we think we own this land, but there’s a lot of history that is under our feet that we walk on” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014). Finding First Nations artifacts on her farm, as she often did, one farmer related that “You pick it up and you wonder, what was the

Native doing that was using this, and what is the story behind this? There’s a story behind every arrowhead that you find. And it’s like, somebody was here before us” (Interviewee 15,

8/27/2014). This depth of history made the lifespan of the proposed dam seem insignificant:

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“they say that [the dam]’ll only be good for a hundred years of energy generation, well, hell, we know that mankind’s been in the Peace Region…for over ten thousand years, so one hundred years, to destroy a river valley for energy is, I think…very short-sighted. We’ve gotta look beyond, and today is the day” (Interviewee 17, 9/6/2014).

4.5.5.2.4 There Is Only One Peace Valley

Much of the opposition to Site C derived from opponents’ belief that the valley was a singular natural creation that could never be repaired or duplicated once it is ruined. They stressed that, although Canada is a large and relatively sparsely populated country, the Peace

Valley is still exceptional and irreplaceable: “… we do not have ten [Peace] valleys, we only have one. And if this one valley is gone, because we flood it, then it’s gone. And it will be gone forever. [We cannot] come back 20 years from now and say, ‘wow, we’re gonna reverse everything’” (Interviewee 20, 9/29/2014). Nature is a gift, and because humans cannot recreate

Nature, there is an immoral element to “destroying” it

“It’s a shame to destroy our nature. It’s not that we built all this, it was given to us, right, it was there. We didn’t do anything…I think a lot of people just simply have to go back to basics, remember that they live in one of the most beautiful counties in the world, and…understand that they didn’t inherit that, it was there. Land is there. You didn’t build it. And we need to take care of it” (Interviewee 20, 9/29/2014, speaker’s emphasis).

The Earth itself is unique and vulnerable; seen from the moon it appeared as “this little jewel sitting in the middle of nowhere.” If humans “wreck it,” “the chances of finding another one of these planets anywhere within fifty thousand light years aren’t very high,” so if “everything collapses,” humanity will not survive— “life’ll continue, bacteria will live, just won’t be any people” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

Protests against Site C, then, were not self-interested attempts by landowners to drive up compensation for their properties (as some Site C supporters suspected). Nor were they merely

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attempts by residents to protect their favourite recreation spots. Instead, like support for Site C, their opposition was motivated by powerful “stories about how the world is [and] how it should be” (Blechman et al., 2000, 24). In this case, these stories suggest that it is wrong to degrade or destroy the natural systems that humans depend on for essential physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, and that, in their beauty and complexity, transcend humans and human creativity.

4.6 Conclusion

Positions and arguments put forward for and against Site C were connected to wider visions of the world people wanted to live in, and the futures they wanted for their children.

Hopes and fears for the future, attachments to place, and views of the human role in environmental change were tied to larger worldview differences concerning ethical responsibilities to the natural world and to humans locally and globally that carried motivational force. The stakes were high: each side saw themselves doing their part to keep society functioning—defending food security, ecological integrity, and place-based life on one side, and human advancement and quality of life on the other. In the extreme, some saw proceeding with

Site C or not proceeding with Site C as a step down a path that ultimately leads to starvation, or strife, and the collapse of civilization.

As I will explore in the following chapters, understanding how these moralities and worldviews collided is important to understanding the violence of Site C. The Site C project would be violent in part because it compromises people’s ability to fulfill their basic needs from the land, and because of local opponents’ value on, and connection with, the valley; the project would disrupt the bond with place that informs many residents’ social, cultural, and spiritual lives. A worldview that prioritized economic growth and looked to technological solutions and human enhancements to manage environmental impacts, though not necessarily violent in itself, 137

helped to justify, disguise, and even motivate this violence, especially since pro- and anti-Site C worldviews did not meet on equal terms in the official decision-making process. Economic and techno-centric values were structurally and politically supported, but their success also depended on their popular foundation. Site C was justifiable because it was not simply imposed by

“developer-dispossessors from another time zone” (Nixon, 2011, 17)—the project had considerable local appeal. I will discuss how these worldviews and values played out in the Site

C consultation and Environmental Assessment process in later chapters, after describing the violence of the WAC Bennett Dam and potential Site C dam projects in the next.

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“A Violent Form of Energy Production:” The WAC Bennett and

Site C Dams

5.1 Introduction

Projects driven by faith in progress and technology were not new in the Peace River

Valley. The hydroelectric history of the valley dates back to the 1960s and the building of the

WAC Bennett Dam near Hudson’s Hope, a product of what Scott calls the “high modernist” worldview, with its “self-confidence about scientific and technical progress” and its value in promoting the social good (Scott, 1998, 4 in Loo, 2016, 36). Then-Premier WAC Bennett hoped the project would turn the young, sparsely populated province of British Columbia into a

“prosperous modern industrial society” (Loo, 2007) with “roads, highways, bridges, and growing communities” and “prosperous cities with schools, hospitals, and universities” (D. J. Mitchell,

1983, 255 in Loo, 2007, 899). While the dam did drive this transformation, it also profoundly changed and partially eliminated a bountiful natural environment, disregarding the rights and well-being—even the existence—of the Indigenous people and the non-Indigenous population whose lives were integrated with it. Indigenous and non-Indigenous Valley residents opposed to

Site C expected that this third dam would be equally transformative, and that the benefits would primarily be felt elsewhere, while the worst impacts would fall on them.

In this chapter, drawing on secondary sources, and the concepts of “structural violence”

(Galtung, 1969) and “environmental violence,” (Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016) I will establish that the WAC Bennett dam was violent in its thoughtless displacement of residents and disruption of their lives. I will then go on to argue that the Site C dam, given its predictable material, psychological, social, cultural and spiritual impacts, would be similarly violent, and that the

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prospective sufferers of this violence recognized it as such, as the discourse of participants at the public hearings of the Site C Joint Review Panel revealed.

5.2 Structural and Environmental Violence

According to common conceptions of violence that “combine the idea of an act of physical force with a violation” (Bufacchi, 2005, 194), the idea of a dam as an instance of violence may seem surprising. These conceptions generally imply an actor, usually with an intention to harm, who carries out the forceful action against another person. Galtung, however, points out that significant harm may occur, even in the absence of a clear “subject-verb-object” relation between perpetrator and victim (1969, 171). Rather than the intention to cause harm, his definition emphasizes the consequences of violence; Galtung defines “violence as avoidable insults to basic human needs, and more generally, to life, lowering the real level of needs satisfaction below what is potentially possible” (1990, 292), whether this is the result of specific actions by one individual, or of innumerable small acts, not necessarily malicious, that, in the aggregate, uphold “repressive structures” (1969, 178). Violence committed by an individual against another, he refers to as “direct,” or “personal” violence. Where there is no “person who directly harms another,” but that violence is embedded in the system, such that opportunities and outcomes are unequal among social groups, he calls “structural or indirect violence” (1969,

170f).

Under conditions of structural violence, access to both resources and power is inequitable among social groups. Wealth and the provision of social services such as education and medical care, for example, may be “skewed” according to race, sex, and such, so that “somatic and mental realizations”—physical health, psychological welfare, and personal fulfilment—fail to reach their full potential (Galtung, 1969, 168). Such inequities are not minor, but may amount to 140

negation of basic needs for “survival,” “well-being,” “identity” and “meaning,” and “freedom;” the “underdogs may be so disadvantaged that they die…or [exist] in a permanent unwanted state of misery, usually including malnutrition and injury” (Galtung, 1990, 292, 293). From the victim’s perspective, the effects of structural violence may resemble those of direct violence, including death; in fact, according to Lee, structural violence is “by far the most lethal form of violence” (B. X. Lee, 2016, 110). In Farmer et al.’s formulation, then, structural violence deserves its name because it describes “social arrangements that put individuals and populations in harm’s way”—these arrangements are “violent because they cause injury to people” (Farmer,

Nizeye, Stulac, & Keshavjee, 2006, 1686, emphasis in original). The concept of structural violence underscores that disparities in human health, prosperity and overall well-being are not

“natural occurrences,” but often the “product of human decisions…preventable through human agency” (B. X. Lee, 2016, 110).

Ecological degradation through industrial activity is also a form of violence for Galtung, in part because a healthy environment is necessary for human health (1990). Industrial development and its impacts are not evenly distributed, however; on the contrary, minorities and people of colour are disproportionately exposed to environmental “bads,” (hazards) as well as lacking equitable access to goods and power. The term “environmental racism” arose in the late

20th century in response to this tendency, and refers to environmental policies and practices that

“differentially affect[] or disadvantage[]…individuals, groups, or communities based on race or colour” (whether intentionally or not) (Bullard, 1999). The International Indian Treaty Council, intervening at the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues in 1996, pointed out that for

Indigenous peoples specifically, environmental racism has particular weight: “…the health of our peoples cannot be separated from the health of our environment, the practice of our spirituality 141

and the expression of our inherent right to self-determination, upon which the mental, physical and social health of our communities is based” (United Nations Working Group on Indigenous

Populations, 1996, in Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016, 11).

Building on the IITC’s work and concept of “gender-based environmental violence”

(Carmen & Waghiyi, 2012, in Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016, 13), the Native Youth Sexual Health

Network has articulated a definition of “environmental violence:”

“The disproportionate and often devastating impacts that the conscious and deliberate proliferation of environmental toxins and industrial development (including extraction, production, export and release) have on Indigenous women, children and future generations, without regard from States or corporations for their severe and ongoing harm” (Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016, 14) underlining both the physical health impacts and social impacts of environmental degradation, along with “recognition of [Indigenous peoples’] intimate connection to the land” (Konsmo &

Pacheco, 2016, 14). The United Nations formally recognized the term environmental violence

“in recognition of the impacts of extractive industries in Indigenous communities” in 2013

(Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016, 15).

Environmental violence is built into “extractivism:” economic development activities that

“remove large quantities of natural resources that are not processed (or processed only to a limited degree), especially for export,” including mining, oil production, forestry, and even farming or fishing (Acosta, 2013, 62). Extractivism began with the colonial harvest of raw materials for the benefit of the colonizing countries and continues into the present day. Large- scale contemporary resource extraction such as clearcutting, mining, and hydraulic fracturing for natural gas often entails large-scale environmental change, and while the dominant, usually urban, society receives material benefits, subordinate populations living in resource-rich areas

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often experience poverty and dispossession (Acosta, 2013; Willow, 2016). Although hydro dams are not always included in definitions of extractivism, such as Acosta’s above, Willow argues that, in typical asymmetrical extractivist fashion, hydroelectric generation extracts and exports the energy produced by flowing water, if not the water itself, for the use of beneficiaries located far from those who sustain the environmental and social impacts (Willow, 2016, 5).

Hydroelectricity, like other extractive industries, then, may manifest environmental violence in the form not only of environmental degradation, but of displacement by which, even major international dam funder the World Bank acknowledges, the “social fabric and economy” may be torn apart (in Colchester, 2000, 17). Around the world, these impacts disproportionately affect Indigenous people and ethnic minorities, but although they are particularly acute and racially charged for these communities, they are not limited to them. As Robert Bullard (the

“Father of Environmental Justice” (Bullard, 2018)) explains, environmental justice issues “don’t just deal with people of colour.” Equally concerning are situations “where the whites are basically dumped on because of lack of economic and political clout and lack of having a voice to say ‘no’ and that’s environmental injustice” (Schweizer, 1999, no page number). Although opponents of Site C have certainly found their voices to say ‘no’, both First Nations and mainstream communities experienced environmental violence due to the WAC Bennett dam, and many fear comparable consequences from Site C.

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5.3 The WAC Bennett Dam: Power and Disempowerment

In the late 1950s, then-BC Premier WAC Bennett conceived a grand plan to develop northern BC, including a series of dams on the Peace River.23 BC Hydro began construction on the WAC Bennett dam, at “Site 3A,” in 1961, completing the project in 1967 (S. Cox, 2018).

Given the small population of the province at the time—1.8 million people—“the scale of the ambition was remarkable,” and the project was considered “an amazing engineering feat” for the era (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2017a). The enormous dam, still the fourth largest in Canada (S. Cox, 2018, 84) provided considerable provincial revenue, as well as inexpensive electricity for residents and industry of the province (Loo, 2007); it still accounts for one quarter of BC Hydro’s overall power generation, representing a “vital force in BC Hydro's delivery of clean, affordable hydroelectric power” (BCH, 2016, 2017a). By BC Hydro’s own account (many years later), however, it “displaced aboriginal communities, erased hunting and trapline territories, disrupted migration routes, and transformed aquatic life in the valley’s waters” (BCH,

2016). If, then, as Galtung argues, violence includes not only forceful bodily injury of one person by another, but ecological damage and injuries to physical well-being and to the soul, even in the absence of individual intention to harm (Galtung, 1969) the project manifested violence in multiple ways.

23 This vision, including “pulp mills, gas wells, highways and railways,” in addition to dams (Cox, 2018, 80), was initially to be carried out in partnership with Swedish industrialist and anthropological philanthropist Axel Wenner- Gren, who received resource rights to 130,000 square kilometres of British Columbia, or one tenth of the province (“Swedish Columbia” to sceptics), in exchange for $500,000, a survey of the area, and a proposal for developing its forestry, mineral, and hydroelectric resources; his scheme even included “heated polar cities” and a 400 mile high- speed BC-to-Yukon monorail, though these were never realized (Cox, 2018; Loo, 2007, 899; Nathan, 2009). To ensure a market for the power the dam would generate, Bennett nationalized the private BC Electric company and merged it with the public BC Power Commission, creating the British Columbia Power and Hydro Authority, commonly known as BC Hydro (S. Cox, 2018).

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In the short term, the Williston Reservoir associated with the dam inundated 230 square miles of the Rocky Mountain Trench (Nathan, 2009, 5), an area of “rivers, canyons, estuaries and forests” reportedly of a “wild, dizzying beauty” (S. Cox, 2018, 99). “Countless animals” (Loo,

2007, 901), from squirrels to moose, were drowned when, confused and sometimes trapped as the waters rose, they tried to swim across the expanding reservoir, and were caught in floating drifts of downed trees (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 186).

People were also taken by surprise. Cabinet Minister Ray Williston (for whom the reservoir would be named) once commented that the area to be flooded “was an absolute wilderness and there were no people there, no nothing. Outside of Fort Ware, where there were a few Indians and so on, there was nothing in the whole area” (Klassen, 1989; in Pollon &

Matheson, 2003, 270). In fact, the area was home to both First Nations and non-Indigenous settlers. Several hundred Tse Keh Nay24 people, members of the Kwadacha and Ingenika First

Nations, lived along the Peace River; their ancestors had lived there for seven thousand years or more. Geographically isolated, they had had minimal contact with the new arrivals (S. Cox,

2018; Hume, 1992). Though neither the provincial nor the federal Indian Affairs Department made much effort to ensure that the Tse Keh Nay truly understood the project (Sims, 2017), some did hear rumours of the dam, or receive warning of the flooding from government or BC

Hydro officials (Pollon & Matheson, 2003). But since the only dams in their experience were beaver dams, they could not conceive of its magnitude (Pollon & Matheson, 2003), and they

24 Also spelled Sekani, Seccani, Sekkanni, Sekanni, Sicanni, Tsekani (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 266) and Tsek’ene, Tse’khene, Tsay Keh Nay, and Tse Keh Nay. Tse Keh Nay is a recent compromise spelling used by the Kwadacha, Takla Lake and Tsay Keh Dene First Nations (Sims, 2017, 43).

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could not believe that “anyone would ever do such a thing to this valley” (Jean Isaac, in Koyl,

1992, 70).

In some Indigenous settlements, BC Hydro burned houses with their contents, and even a church, ahead of the flooding (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 273). In others, residents repeatedly moved to higher ground over a period of months, mourning as they watched the waters gradually rise. The storekeeper in the hamlet of Finlay Forks one night found “all the people sitting

[around campfires] as if at a funeral. ‘The older people were weeping. They were saying “No more good land.” It was a very, very sorrowful sight’” (Hume, 1992, 31). Some watched their houses float away (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 273). Others woke in the night to find water in their cabins; they “left their house[s] with absolutely nothing because they didn’t have time to move” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 8).

Some homesteading families in the area were also caught off guard; I more than once heard the story of a family living along the river who received notice of the upcoming flooding by mail, in the town of Prince George, several hundred kilometres and hours, if not days, of travel from their home. As the water rose, they packed up what they could and ran along with the

First Nations. The young daughter of this family, now a senior, recalled that her father had to be physically restrained from returning to the home site where he might have died (Interviewee 31,

7/23/2015).25

As the river became a reservoir, Ingenika people tried from their boats to rescue animals caught in log drifts. Some became stranded themselves, for days, in the midst of mats of debris

25Though this was a story I heard second-hand, and cannot personally confirm, it was well-known locally, and contributed to negative perceptions of BC Hydro and hydro-electric dam building in the Peace Region. 146

which had knocked their propellers off (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 269). Despite their sometimes-successful efforts, many animals drowned, and the smell of rotting carcasses was pervasive throughout the reservoir the first summer after inundation (Sims, 2017). After watching them struggle, many hunters would not shoot moose for a long time afterwards (Hume,

1992). Equally distressing, the reservoir submerged Tse Keh Nay graveyards (Sims, 2017, 421).

The reservoir banks were more prone to sloughing than BC Hydro had predicted, and eventually a point of land containing a graveyard collapsed into the water, leaving “coffins, some whole and some all broken up, bones and bodies strewn all down the bank" as a witness described it, in what Loo calls “a scene from a northern hell: dead bodies in a dead river already choked with the corpses of trees” (Loo, 2007, 907; see also Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 277).

In the longer-term, the dam contaminated the water supply with “animal carcasses and chemical waste from flooded camps…and boats,” making it undrinkable (Sims, 2017, 248), had negative impacts on plant communities and animal populations, eliminated riverine transportation routes, blocked migration routes for Rocky Mountain Caribou (which had been a staple of the local Indigenous people’s diet but are now barely resisting extirpation due to development pressure), contaminated fish with mercury, and even changed the weather and climate of the area (Hume, 1992; Loo, 2007). Thus, the dam caused not only immediate trauma, but dramatic, often anguish-inducing, changes to life and livelihood for many residents.

Although Bennett intended the dam in part to contribute to the reduction of economic disparities across the province (Nathan, 2009, 39), and although its construction created a sensational labour boom in the region, many felt that BC Hydro disrespected residents by neglecting local hiring priority and offering “ridiculous” prices for land compensation

(Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014; Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 175). One resident recalled that, “as we 147

found out, Hydro didn’t give fair deals:” his father had been offered $3000 for half a mile of riverfront property with three cabins, the “most wonderful place in the world.” A judge eventually ordered BC Hydro to pay approximately eight times their initial offer, but this resident believed that the stress of the court case shortened his father’s life by five years

(Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014).

The compensation offered was often not sufficient to allow for replacement of lost farms or guide-outfitting operations, leading to a loss of autonomous livelihoods. Some residents could not imagine alternatives to their lives on the river; trappers, for example, received cash settlements, but with no other traplines available to buy, “most of them were just out of it…Some of them blew their heads off” according to a long-time local (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 183).

For the Ingenika and Kwadacha people, given “their relationship to their land and its importance to [their] society and identity,” Sims, who interviewed numerous survivors, compared the loss of the river valley to “losing one’s beloved spouse” (2017, 245). The flooding also drowned memories, and disrupted the “sense of identity and connection to the past” that graveyards provide, causing “cultural displacement” and “social distress” (Ingram, 2012, 29, 56, in Sims, 2017). In their small riverboats, the Tse Keh Nay were unable to navigate the reservoir, with its debris hazards and rough waters, that replaced their river highway, leaving them cut off from each other and from relatives and friends in the larger region. Nine people died on the reservoir between 1968 and 1992 (Sims, 2017, 233). The Ingenika people were relocated twice, and now live at the remote northern end of the Williston Reservoir, subject to dust storms that cause skin and breathing problems. Isolated, dispossessed, dislocated from their homes, traplines, hunting grounds, and ancestral land, they began to experience new social problems: poverty, alcoholism, violence, and abuse. Formerly self-sufficient, they became increasingly reliant on 148

welfare and other forms of assistance (S. Cox, 2018; Hume, 1992; Loo, 2007; Pollon &

Matheson, 2003).

5.3.1 “Some Things You Can’t Fix with Money”

At the same time, the displaced residents of the valley, like many communities in resource extraction zones, experienced “technological modernization as extractive theft without service delivery.” Although they lived with the reality of the dam and reservoir and their consequences, they did not receive the advantages of basic infrastructure in return; they were

“ecologically dispossessed without being empowered via infrastructure” (Nixon, 2011, 42). The electricity provided by the dam supported economic growth throughout much of the province, but, according to Nathan, northerners received relatively little benefit, “even from the construction phase” (Nathan, 2009, 74).

The people who felt the consequences most acutely did not even always have access to the inexpensive electricity the urban south takes for granted. Twenty years after the dam construction, a journalist found Ingenika people (now known as Tsay Keh Dene) living in

“pinepole-and-plywood cabins” without telephones, running water, or power (Glavin, 1989, in S.

Cox, 2018, 100), and a visiting Cabinet Minister described living conditions as “the most primitive I’ve seen” (Rogers, quoted in Palmer, 2006, in S. Cox, 2018, 100). After relocation some farmers waited up to thirty years for a connection to the power grid,26 and, as of 2017, the

Tsay Keh Dene and Kwadacha communities, though they now had access to electricity, were still powered by generators rather than hydro (S. Cox, 2018, 84, 101). Yet the Tsay Keh Dene and

Kwadacha people suffered dislocation, poverty, poor health and social breakdown as a result of

26 At least one declined the offer when it came (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014) 149

the dam’s construction, and many non-Indigenous residents also felt pained and ripped-off due to poor treatment and inadequate compensation.

In this case, not only did “the topdogs get much more out of the interaction than…the underdogs,” as Galtung says of structural violence (1990, 293); those displaced by the WAC

Bennett dam not only failed to benefit, but experienced long-term, unredressed consequences to their livelihoods, health, social and cultural lives, and overall welfare. Through maldistribution of goods and bads, the project avoidably and inequitably diminished their “life chances”

(Galtung, 1969, 171); and “may well [have caused] just as much suffering as direct physical injury” (Galtung, 1990, 293). Compensation, when it came, largely many years later, eased, but could not erase, that injury and suffering.

Some Ingenika/Tsay Keh Dene and Kwadacha individuals received compensation, in the order of $2500, for their traplines in the 1960s, (Hume, 1992, 33; Pollon & Matheson, 2003,

273); many others did not. BC Hydro did not provide compensation for flooded hunting or gathering places or for lost access to river transportation routes (Nathan, 2009, 21). One hundred and twenty-five Tsay Keh Dene families who were flooded out collectively received $35,000.

“One of the country’s most marginalized First Nations” for decades, the Tsay Keh Dene sued the federal and provincial governments and BC Hydro for infringement of their Aboriginal rights in

1999; the Kwadacha followed in 2001, and the two communities reached settlements with the provincial government in 2009 and 2006, respectively (S. Cox, 2018, 102).

The Kwadacha’s agreement with the government made possible improvements to child and adult education in their village of Fort Ware, and a bridge into the community, formerly accessible only by river (BCH, 2016). According to BC Hydro it also provided “only a measure of closure for BC Hydro and the people who were impacted” (BCH, 2017a); perhaps as a result, 150

Kwadacha members participated in creating a new exhibit at the WAC Bennett dam Visitor

Centre, which acknowledges the consequences of the dam for the First Nations in the area (BCH,

2017a; see also BCH, 2016; Willow, 2020).

For the Tsay Keh Dene, however, neither the financial compensation nor the offer to participate in the exhibit could erase the “on-going trauma and lasting effects of the creation of the reservoir on our nation and its people that has yet to be resolved,” as a statement by the Tsay

Keh Dene Chief posted in the gallery explains (S. Cox, 2018, 113). “They just weren’t ready to be part of this” said BC Hydro’s now-President. “We included the [statement] because it’s part of the story as well” (BCH, 2017a). He acknowledged that “The Bennett Dam was constructed in a different time…First Nations were considered to be people in the way, and that’s how they were treated. It’s a terrible stain on the history of the province.” Even two generations later, the

President commented, “I'm still struck when I go up there at the very current sense of injury that people carry with them, even today. It's a reminder that some things you can't fix with money”

(BCH, 2017a). As the consultation and public hearing process for Site C would make clear, that sense of injury was also very alive among member First Nations of the Treaty 8 Tribal

Association, who had also been affected by the Bennett dam, but not received satisfactory compensation,27 and non-Indigenous residents of the Peace River Valley.

27 See Treaty 8 First Nations (T8FNs) Community Assessment Team and the Firelight Group Research Cooperative, (2012) for discussion of the ongoing impacts of the Bennett dam on these First Nations. 151

5.4 Site C: “The Nail in the Coffin”

5.4.1 Development and Destruction

It was a sense of injury exacerbated by the fear of history repeating itself, a sense of unresolved grievance and violation, coupled with a fear of the consequences of Site C, that was reflected in the language of those who spoke out against the project at the public hearings.

Although the Site C dam would be considerably smaller than the WAC Bennett dam, it would cause similar types of impacts to the land and the people who live on, with and from it. For some long-term residents, therefore, according to the Treaty 8 Tribal Chief, even participating in the

Site C hearings would raise “difficult” memories for elders who knew first-hand the “damage” done by the WAC Bennett dam and the Peace Canyon dam (completed in 1980, see Chapters 2 and 6) (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 81). Some “people with personal or family trauma as a result of upstream dams” were “not mentally able to withstand” being at the hearings, because “their dark places are too large” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 148), a Euro-Canadian speaker also explained.

Among other things, remembering the “screaming of animals” who were stuck and drowning in the debris fields in the rising reservoir would be “gut-wrenching” for those who had heard it, especially if BC Hydro would again “have to put in people [to] shoot the animals that get stuck.”

“This is violent. It is a violent form of energy production,” reflected an interviewee who was close to both Indigenous and non-Indigenous Site C opponents” (Interviewee 31, 7/23/2015).

Structural violence is often described as “silent,” (Galtung, 1969, 173), “invisible” violence, that does not register as such because it is “part of the normative fabric of social and political life” (Scheper-Hughes & Bourgois, 2004a, 4). For the sufferers of such violence, however, it may be quite apparent. Like those quoted above, many Site C opponents who spoke during the Site C public hearings saw themselves as already living in a state of environmental 152

violence, given the intense resource extraction in the region, including the existing dams. For some Peace Region residents, the “record-setting pace” of industrial development (FSJ CoC

2015, 24) offered exciting opportunities (see Chapter 2, this document), but many speakers at the hearings referred to this development in terms of war and violation, of being “bombarded from outside resources who want to extract from our pristine land,” of “encroach[ment]” and

“depletion,” of “massive destructions” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h 96, 99, 114), of “60,000 kilometres of road that's opening up our lands to be raped, to be destroyed, to take away my grandchildren's life” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 178). They compared development to a “nuclear holocaust… destroying the world right now” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 188).

With all the industrial development in the region, “our lands are dying a death of 1,000 cuts,” said the Treaty 8 Tribal Chief (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 83). Some saw corporate industrial development in terms of both traditional stories and mental illness. A former Doig River Chief referred to “stories about giant animals ruling the land and devouring Indian people and killing them off.” Now it seemed that “the giant animal has returned,” in the form of “psychotic” corporations that fixate on “their own bottom line [and] don’t care about anything else”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 85). Another elder remembered her grandmother’s stories about

Windigo, “an evil being with an evil spirit that could possess anyone or anything,” whose defining characteristics were “greed, gluttony, excess and even cannibalism,” and who “was never satisfied,” but constantly sought new territory and new victims. Today, according to the elder, “Windigo is in our midst,” and “more fearful, forceful, and more powerful than ever before” with government, industry, and powerful individuals “destroying at a fast pace,” such that the psychological state of the dominant society should be recognized as a social sickness that

“would be called the ‘Windigo psychosis,’” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 111). 153

Many valley residents watched the accelerated development with pain, along with a sense of impotent distress. Remembering the valley when “everything that was natural was there” and it was “untouched” and witnessing the “dramatic” changes on the river was “heartbreaking” for a

West Moberly speaker who “consider[ed] us like a grieving community because of what we’ve lost” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 266). One landowner explained that “we’re not saying none of this

[development] should happen, but we’re saying that we need to have a few of our natural resources left intact so the human beings that actually live here can continue to enjoy them…”

(Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014). But even property owners had limited control over the activities of resource companies on their own land, so that, as a recent resident of Hudson’s Hope put it,

I just kind of felt like I landed here on a floating island, and as it's flowing down this river, it's falling apart. And the panic and the anger and the frustration of being so helpless against so many large entities that get to dictate your life, this is my impression of what I came to here” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 174)

The Chief of the West Moberly First Nation also insisted that his Nation “is not opposed to development” per se, but only to “unnecessarily [sic] impacts,” particularly “the destruction of this valley” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 31). Site C on top of this existing development would be the “the straw that will break our mother earth's back in our territory” and a “nail on the coffin to this land base”—from a “nail gun” according to Treaty 8 leaders and members (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013e, 84, 2013h, 231, 160). First Nations’ and non-Indigenous speakers alike referred to the effects of Site C, “the consequences of the mercury, the loss of animals, the loss of land”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 122) like those of development in general, in terms of “destruction,”

“Holocaust,” “and “how shameful [it is] and how hurtful that is to our northern people that have to live with these sacrifices for the rest of our lives” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 115). If Site C proceeded, many community members said, its impact on the land would be “just horrendous” 154

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 231); it would “wreck the whole ecosystem” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h,

216). “BC Hydro in the past has raped Mother Earth to her core,” declared a Saulteau speaker, implying that they would do so again with Site C, but “once raped she will never be restored to her original state” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 97).

5.4.2 Human Impacts

5.4.2.1 “We Can’t Feed Our Children Money”

“How much more do you need?” a West Moberly grandmother asked of Site C proponents. Do you need also to see my children, my grandchildren bleed as the land does?”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 179). For many hearing participants, the destruction of nature was inseparable from violation and harm to humans. The prospective environmental violence would affect both people and land in intertwined physical, social, cultural, and spiritual ways.

In the most practical sense, people were concerned that the region would no longer be able to sustain them and their families. A Saulteau trapper intended to “keep trapping until I start using a cane,” except that she would have to snowshoe farther and farther away, “farther more in the bush to go get my fur, what I need to get in order to put food on the table.” Ultimately, she feared that if Site C proceeded, “there is nothing going to be left there for us, for our community, my people, my children, my grandkids. And this is very devastating” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h,

147). First Nations youth as well as elders worried that future generations would no longer be able to fish, hunt, or buy fresh local produce due to effects of the dam and industry in general:

“We're losing water. We're losing food. We're losing land…It's scary to know that there will be a dam in place taking away those resources…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 123).

Non-Indigenous residents also worried about food shortages if climate change combined with the loss of high-quality farmland to Site C: “We can't feed our children money. We can't 155

hydrate them with oil and gas, and we can't grow vegetables in a reservoir. I'm concerned about our future, our children's future, and our grandchildren's future” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 63).

They felt a responsibility to speak out against Site C, in order to be able to “look at the future generations in the eye and say we did the best that we could do to protect their food source…”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 64).

5.4.2.2 “A Dangerous Place”

Along with effects on food security, critics worried Site C would have socio-cultural impacts that would affect many people but would be especially severe for Indigenous women. As

Palmater points out, the perception of natural resource extraction as rape is more than an analogy; all too often, “the extraction of natural resources from Indigenous lands in fact includes the actual rape of Indigenous women and girls” (Palmater, 2016). The violence and broader strain on the social fabric of Indigenous communities associated with extractive industry is well documented: participants at an International Indigenous Women’s Environmental and

Reproductive Health Symposium reported that the presence of extractive industries brought increased sexual violence and exploitation, more drug and alcohol abuse, sexually transmitted infections, social divisions, and “a range of other social and health problems” (Konsmo &

Pacheco, 2016; also see Amnesty International, 2016b; Edwards, 2019; National Inquiry into

Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, 2019; G. Gibson et al., 2017).

Fort St John and the surrounding area have long been notorious for the crime and violence, particularly against Indigenous women and girls, that accompany large industrial worker camps, beginning with the building of the Bennett dam. A Saulteau elder recalled that during that time, “workers from outside the community…preyed on our young women, and…taught them about drugs and alcohol. And the social fabric of our community was pretty 156

well destroyed” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 89). Widespread alcoholism endangered many members of the community; another elder remembered that “There was a lot of fights…the

Native guys would get punched around, pushed around…” As a little girl, she was no longer allowed to walk to school, or “we would have to hide when somebody came by to go to work at the dam because it wasn't safe for us anymore” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 91).

Contemporary Fort St John, with a sexual assault rate nearly double the national average, is an “epicentre” of violence against Indigenous women and girls (Edwards, 2019, 1; Amnesty

International, 2016b). As explained in Chapter 2, women’s frequent economic precarity and dependence on a higher-income male partner, along with the concentration of young, primarily male, transient workers looking to “blow off steam” through drugs and alcohol, and a misogynistic, racist “hyper-masculine” camp culture (G. Gibson et al., 2017, 15; Amnesty

International, 2016b; Eckford & Wagg, 2014) are important factors in this violence; however,

Indigenous women activists argue that their relationship, or perceived relationship, with land also plays a role. Author and activist Helen Knott writes “I have watched individuals who don’t care what happens to the lands move into our territory. They extend the same mentality to the women, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous” (Knott, 2018, 140). Because of the historical European association of Indigenous women with the land, the “Euro-constructed image of Native women…mirrors Western attitudes towards the earth,” attitudes that involve “control, conquest, possession, and exploitation,” according to Anderson (2004, 80, in Knott, 2018, 149). Though

Knott is careful to point out that not all workers in camps share the “violence mindset,” the

“ideology that land is solely a resource for profit enables man-camps,” which in turn contribute to a social environment that permits violence against women Knott, 2018, 150). Furthermore, activist Connie Greyeyes believes, some of the racism is a reaction to “our commitment to the 157

environment and protecting the land.” The idea that “we are the reason for financial and tax burdens of non-Indigenous people in this area” perpetuates an “astronomical” degree of racism—

"I can honestly say that there is more violence directed towards Indigenous people now than ever before” (Knott, 2018, 149).

Investigations of the violence associated with worker camps conclude that resource development planning and environmental assessment do not adequately consider social and cultural effects (G. Gibson et al., 2017). In Fort St John, for example, where industrial activity is already “stretching our communities to their very limits” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 83), law enforcement, health care, counselling and other community resources are not sufficient to meet the needs of an expanded population, still less to prevent or cope with increased criminality

(Amnesty International, 2016b; Eckford & Wagg, 2014). Thus, Saulteau participants at the Site

C hearings worried that with thousands of workers potentially employed at the dam, “more people, more money brings more problems, meaning drugs and alcohol and family dynamics”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 36). Believing that “all the new people coming in, they don’t really care about my community, they don’t care about my community’s livelihoods, and they don’t care about protecting my home town…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 125), they expected increases in

HIV rates, gang violence, and other crime, as well as drug and alcohol abuse. For Connie

GreyEyes, a high population of transient workers, with the attitude that Fort St John is a “town to come to and make money and leave,” rather than a home community, already “makes Fort St

John… a dangerous place to live for Indigenous women, and with…the monstrosity Mega

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Project Site C, I fear for the worst” (Knott, 2018, 150).28

Many non-Indigenous residents also dreaded the effects of more transient workers in the region on community safety. The Mayor of Fort St John, reported that many residents “felt the community would be run over” by Site C. There was a “dire fear,” she said, that the “proximity of this project to the community, while still being outside the jurisdiction of the community, would impact us immensely in so many ways” particularly since the area was “at a saturation point” for government social services and emergency resources (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 169).

Although BC Hydro did offer measures to mitigate the social impacts of its activities29, many critics of Site C seemed either not to be aware of them, or (like the Mayor) they were not reassured by them (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 169f, 179f).

5.4.2.3 “The Dark Cloud Hanging Over Us”

Non-Indigenous critics of Site C hoped that their region would not only not become a centre of violent crime, but that their towns would remain viable and attractive places to live.

They cherished the Peace Valley as a place of community as well as a natural landscape. They felt that the prospect of the dam, however, had already undermined their communities; if the project went ahead, it would erode them further, while submerging land they held dear. Their pain and depth of feeling, along with a sense of indignity in dealing with BC Hydro, was often

28 Site C was reportedly reviewed according to the federal government’s Gender-Based Analysis Plus tool, which examines the impact of government polices and programs through an intersectional lens, including gender; however, the results of this analysis are subject to Cabinet confidentiality (Jones 2017, Women Voice Site C concerns) 29 These included providing their own medical and emergency services for the work camps; encouraging local participation in the Site C work force through support for training (particularly for Indigenous people); funding of daycare spaces, affordable housing units, emergency/transitional housing services, and increased policing in the community; implementing cross-cultural awareness training and staff codes of conduct and providing leisure activities at camps (EIS Exec Summary, 52, 72, 74, 76).

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expressed in what might otherwise be surprisingly violent language.

For a prominent valley farmer, for example, the experience of dealing with BC Hydro and being refused rent for the hydro lines that crossed his property had to be experienced to be understood: “if you haven’t been gored, you don’t know what that’s like” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013f, 226). BC Hydro’s arrangements for Site C, such as land acquisitions, “decimated” and

“eviscerated” communities (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 146), according to a former resident. Anti-

Site C valley residents frequently spoke of the threat of the dam as something hanging over themselves and their communities, causing distress to individuals and harming community life.

For example, the “dark cloud over the valley and the shadow cast by the dam proposal” and the potential flooding “squashed” the “dream of horticulture” in the valley (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i,

146) , while the “flowage easement,” (the right of way held by BC Hydro on some riverside property since the 1960s) referred to by a speaker as a “rape pillage and plunder easement” cast a

“veil of uncertainty” over the valley over decades (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 131), hearing participants commented.

Sometimes the shadow of the dam led to long-term residents leaving, however unwillingly. This happened often enough, according to a resident, that the population of

Hudson’s Hope is “dropping and dropping and dropping…and you can’t tell me that isn’t because of this big thing that hangs over our head….” She said it gave her “such a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach” to think of how the population would decrease even further if Site C was built, and “Hudson's Hope will be like a ghost town, not the colourful, busy, little community that it is today that I love so much” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 155). Another Hudson’s

Hope resident confirmed that due to the “threat” of Site C “hanging over us like a dark cloud,” she had lost “friends that I’ve had for 30 years…[who] love this landscape, and they used the 160

river…They said they wouldn’t bear witness to the project” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 68). She worried that the region would become a “backwater barren land of industry, hydro, gas and coal, adding that ‘the whole process is demoralizing, and I feel a real loss of dignity”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 69).

Yet staying to witness the “destruction of the valley as we know it” would be “gut- wrenching” for some valley residents. One landowner dreaded watching the clear-cutting of the reservoir, as all the “natural activity in these spruce-cottonwood communities” became “kind of like…living in a moonscape for many years…” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), while another valley resident imagined what it would be like for his neighbour, a multi-generational landowner, to watch from a hillside vantage point as

“bulldozers come and bulldoze down their place where their family has been for almost a hundred years. They will be watching as the thing is burned to the ground before the thing is flooded. They will be watching as everything that they have ever lived for, and their history and their livelihood is destroyed in front of them so that we can get money for an LNG plant. And I don’t know how they can reconcile that” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

And a long-time rancher affirmed that

“… our home and my mom’s home… our heritage, livelihood, way of life, and connection to this place will basically be wiped out or burnt down as BC Hydro has done in the past. The destruction of our home place will have grave impacts mentally and physically on us, our family and our friends” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 35).

The “dark shadow” of the dam, and the fight against it, had already had serious repercussions for the well-being of some valley residents; these would only intensify if the dam was completed. The prospect of Site C’s impact on the “unique biological values” of the Peace valley, combined with the threat of a dam breach (when a sinkhole was discovered in the WAC

Bennett dam in 1996 (Mullens, 1999)), and the frustrations of the consultation process (discussed

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in Chapters 6 and 9) “worked on” one couple “day-by-day, week-by-week, year-by-year. We became irritable, unsettled, lacking in purpose.” They developed physical anxiety symptoms, to the point that, to their own surprise and that of their friends, “we quickly decided that the shadow had threatened our health and future so much, and we had to leave…We will make a new life…but, in our hearts, we will grieve for our Peace River home” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 150).

A veteran PVEA member declared that “I have sometimes been teetering on the brink of despair as I consider the battle against Site C” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 306), while another felt that if Site C went ahead, “Well, we’d be depressed. Well, maybe not clinically depressed, but after spending all these years fighting it…” she trailed off (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014). Her husband, a lifelong resident in his 80s, was more emphatic: “I want to be dead. It’s going to absolutely ruin this area…. if they decide to construct Site C …this area is not going to be worth living in” (Interviewee 9, 3/1/2014). One resident even distanced herself from the idea of being flooded out of her valley home by speaking in the third person: “I just can’t imagine not drivin’ up the driveway and livin’ here. And I don’t know how a person’s going to handle that, really...

We don’t think about going there” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014). Yet, as a farmer commented,

“There’s nothing at all in place to address the potentially devastating emotional effects many families and their children will face should the Site C dam be approved.” He acknowledged that these emotional effects might be even worse for First Nations members: “I can’t imagine how

First Nations must feel” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 122).

5.4.2.4 “The Beginning of the End of a Culture”

First Nations people themselves expressed their “fear” regarding a future with Site C, that no proposed mitigation measures could “ease” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 194). They communicated their sadness at the thought of losing the valley; more than one spoke of “wanting 162

to cry,” or being “in tears most of the time” thinking about “what could be under water if Site C is built” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 68). And a young Saulteau woman told the Joint Review Panel that

“…if this happens and my home is destroyed, I’ve lost my heart, I’ve lost my spirit, and I can’t get it back. So please, really think about this, because you’re breaking every single one of our hearts” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 251) .

By “destroying the land,” however, “they’re [also] driving our food source away,” and therefore, “you’re slowly driving our people away…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 222). Thus, West

Moberly and Saulteau speakers also expressed their apprehensions regarding the profound loss of community and culture that Site C would bring, and their fear that by not only impeding their right to exercise their Treaty rights in pursuit of their traditional lifestyle, but also by inundating culturally significant places, the project would soon mean the end of their culture.

Treaty 8 specifies that the signatory First Nations “shall have right to pursue their usual vocations of hunting, trapping and fishing throughout the tract surrendered…” (“Treaty No.

8…,” 1966). Treaty Commissioners’ “oral promises” further assured Indigenous signatories that

“the treaty would not lead to any forced interference with their mode of life,” and “that they would be as free to hunt and fish after the treaty as they would be if they never entered into it”

(“Treaty No. 8…,” 1966), and “many, many people” still exercise those rights, according to the

Saulteau Chief (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 243). Existing industrial development made this harder and harder to do, however. According to a Saulteau elder: “those Treaties get pretty depleted when we see one more project happening in our Treaty 8 territory and our values and our traditional way of life…being lost because of the destructions that are taking place in our communities” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 107). A recent employee of Saulteau, not a member of the Nation, as he emphasized, described himself as “completely floored by [the development] 163

they’ve been inundated by…” From an “unbiassed perspective,” he said, “I can tell you…that it’s…crazy, and it’s…going to be impossible for them to practice their Treaty rights if this continues (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 64). Meaningful exercise of Treaty rights depends not only on having a place to carry out these activities, but also on the health of the ecosystem there,

Indigenous speakers emphasized. As the West Moberly Chief put it, when hunting or fishing,

“…it's not the mere act of fishing that's important. If that was the case, I could sit in my house and fish out of my toilet bowl. It's the fact of what I'm going to catch. That's what has to be clear here. It's not the right to be able to hunt. It's the ability to actually get something when I hunt. And what that is that I get. Is it a healthy moose? Is it a healthy fish?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 130).

Furthermore, intensive industrialization has implications beyond the practice of Treaty rights to their existence as First Nations, members argued. “The land is our grocery store” and

“our drugstore,” and resource development that eliminates “the opportunity to go out to the land to pursue our traditional way of life,” to hunt for food or to gather medicinal plants jeopardizes the ability to practise “our cultural and spiritual ways of life” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014l, 151). The

West Moberly Chief went on to explain that already, as well as the ability to practice a traditional lifestyle and exercise treaty rights, the transfer of traditional knowledge has already been compromised. While previous generations not only caught fish, but cooked it with wild onions and peavine, as he had learned to do from his mother and grandmother, in his own generation,

“what I get to do is to teach my son how to throw contaminated fish back into the river”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 23).

Site C, First Nations critics argued, would only exacerbate this disruption of cultural practice and transmission. Several spoke of Site C as the “tipping point,” the “one that breaks the camel’s back…in terms of…cultural sustainability” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 282). The Saulteau

Chief explained that with all of the development already happening in the region “We cannot go 164

practice anywhere else… This is all that we've been able to protect. This is all that's going to be left, and in due time that's going to be taken away too…” thus Site C threatened “the beginning of the end of a culture” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 253). Like many communities on land slated for hydroelectric development they faced the prospect of “displacement without moving;” instead of being physically relocated, they remain in place as the land changes around them, becoming

“stranded in a place stripped of the very characteristics that made it inhabitable,” and “moved out of [their] living knowledge as [their] place loses its life-sustaining features” (Nixon, 2011, 19).

The inundation of 5660 hectares of relatively intact land by Site C would greatly reduce the area available for passing on cultural knowledge, hearing participants pointed out. Several speakers feared that the plants and animals they wished to teach or learn about would simply be absent if the project proceeded, so “How can I teach my grandchildren how to make dry meat, pick berries or teach them which is edible and medicinal plants when in the future there will be no moose, no berries, no plants to pick?” asked a Saulteau elder (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 100).

A teenager’s comment offered an answer: “if this dam goes through, we’ll be teaching [our children] by pictures because we won’t be able to take them on the land and teach them [the way] we’re being taught (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 124). Numerous people referred to the land itself as a “school,” “classroom,” or “university” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 233, 234). Diverse landscapes are therefore important not only ecologically, but also for the transmission of knowledge (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 141-2), so “…if I'm a teacher and I don't have the textbook with me, nor the language to tell them what it is, then how am I supposed to teach you again and how are you going to teach your kids?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 278).

In addition, however, cultural stories and histories are embedded in the land, both literally and figuratively. “Our ancestors are out there” pointed out a speaker at West Moberly, explaining 165

that his great grandfather, “a medicine man” and drummer, like others, had buried his drum in the valley when the government attempted to repress Indigenous spirituality (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013g, 140). Given the region’s 10,000-year history of human occupation, it is also rich in archaeological sites, of which Site C would inundate at least 450, including both First Nations sites and early European settlements (S. Cox, 2018, 64; LaSalle, n.d.). Other ancestors were themselves buried in the valley (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 139; 2014f, 200; 2014g, 159), and the idea that their bones would be disturbed was very distressing; a speaker at Saulteau declared that

“there will be a battle” if there was a repeat of previous experience, “where all the bodies of graves come up and [float] up in the water” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 218). Desecrating the graves might have frightening consequences, suggested an elder, in a poem that linked past, present, and future through the blood and bones of the ancestors:

My ancestors whose bones have turned into dirt, those bones are my blood. I ask—I ask why Site C, why here? Why disturb my bones? Don't they have any compassion? Why don't they understand what will happen if I should dig their bones. Surely I would be punished for such a hideous crime. Do I have to keep my mouth shut, even if I should say a spoken word of pray? Would I be heard? Tell me. Tell me how can I -- how can anyone get away. Come on. Come and see my bones. Those bones belong to me, to my ancestors whose blood I still carry, that my children are carrying, my grandchildren will carry my bones. (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 101).

By flooding the valley, “You’re taking away roots… you’re hashing up our ancestor’s bones, our ashes, our history,” another speaker told BC Hydro (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 123). A

West Moberly mother, worried, however, about the cultural future. Specific places and landmarks often serve as what might be called “oral bookmarks” for elders to relate these stories.

Elders tell stories while moving through the landscape, she said:

“that's when they communicate with you, and it's natural. They tell you stories. They're—it’s not forced. They're not put in a room and forced to tell these 166

stories. It's natural in this area. They point out things, and they'll see something and they'll tell you, oh, I remember that time” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 166) .

With the inundation of the Valley, “all those mental triggers for those elders to come around that corner or to see that mountain on the top of the hill are going to be gone” and the drive through the Peace Valley “is never going to be the same.” If Site C goes through, her children, who are just becoming old enough to take in the stories, will not hear them nor “get those teachings. And that scares me,” she concluded (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 167).

Moreover, while passing on “oral history,” “songs,” “legends,” and “stories” requires a

“land base,” passing on knowledge of medicines requires “a specific place…where you are in harmony with nature” and can “connect to the energy which drives the universe.” As the

Saulteau Chief explained, to pass on the language and songs and ceremonies he had been taught,

“I need a place that will still resonate the energy that is required to get into that state of mind where you need to be…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 244-6). Community members feared that the last remaining highly significant cultural, sacred, and teaching sites, many of them on the banks of the Peace River, that served as “a place to go in time of need,” would disappear completely, threatening the “doorway [to] communicating with the Creator” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 130).

Site C, as a major expansion of existing development in the region, posed an existential cultural threat in the eyes of many First Nations speakers at the public hearings. The Treaty 8

Tribal Chief explained that “without a voice or the wildlife in this valley that is special not just to our people but to the wildlife, we’re not going to be indigenous people anymore living off the land” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 203). Other speakers emphasized the cultural importance of

“taking our kids to… the sweat lodge, learning the traditional way of life, going out there and hunting and fishing, camping,” and handing down “all the traditional values that were taught to

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us” because “if that doesn't happen, then it's not us as an Indian, as Native people, First Nations people” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 105).

The Saulteau Chief tried both to convey the incalculability of the potential loss, and to put it in terms he thought the Joint Review Panel might understand, asking them to imagine how they would manage if the English language were taken away, and what they would be willing to pay in order to get it back. Because

“…when those animals are gone… when the ability and the know how to go and harvest these animals and provide for yourself and your family, not only as sustenance, but also in a spiritual realm for your culture, it's gone … I don't think we can put a price tag on it because if it dies, it dies. And if it dies, so does the culture, and so does a language, and there's no price tag that you can put on a language” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 86).

Far from seeing this eliminating of a language and culture as an innocent side effect of a necessary project, the Chief and others named it as violence. “Bulldozing, flooding our schools, our universities, our medicine cabinets, our food, our grocery stores,” (as the Peace Valley was to the speaker and his Nation), with the “horrendous and devastating” impact on “our people” would be a “crime,” deserving of jail time if committed by an individual, a Saulteau speaker argued. “But the system, the society, doesn’t get thrown in jail. They can justify their actions by coming to listen to me talk, you know?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 234). Pointing out the contradiction in the Province “preaching…reconciliation” while “killing us on the other side” with a dam, the Chief compared the situation to former governments “kill[ing] the culture and the language of the people by taking away the buffalo” instead of eliminating animals directly,

“You’re imposing industrial development on us that’s killing our culture and our language…I see this as a modern day genocide to a people and to a culture all for the sake of money”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 245).

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5.4.2.5 A Sense of Exploitation

For many Site C opponents, the most important local effects of the project would be negative, and of type and magnitude that could not realistically be mitigated or compensated for with money, as I will discuss further in Chapter 8. At the same time, however, the belief that they had been “the cash register for the province since the late [19]40s” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 83), that development in their home region was enriching other parts of the province at their expense intensified the sense among many Peace region residents, of being forgotten, misunderstood, even sacrificed to the urban majority in Vancouver and Victoria. For a long-time Euro-Canadian resident, the rate of resource extraction combined with the lack of returns to the region in social services felt like

“just…one thing after another, we’re just being knocked on—you know, pounded down [thumping the table with her thumb] Pound. Pound. Pound…nobody knows about us, they can just take everything. I mean we send all this electricity down there, all the money from the oil and gas, what else? Seems to me it’s all going down there, and…it’s a little trickle up here” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014).

Indigenous hearing participants felt this sense of exploitation, if anything, more deeply.

Although some argue that industry may provide “independence, social mobility, and quality of life,” including for Indigenous women, (Jones, 2017), Indigenous people often face barriers to resource industry employment, and while First Nations have “been able to negotiate access to specific benefits…a much greater share of the benefits [of resource development] goes to non-

Indigenous people or flows out of the region entirely,” (Amnesty International, 2016b, 5). Critics did not expect that things would be different with Site C. As a Saulteau member put it: “You say you have 8 billion bucks that you're going to throw into this dam. What do we get out of it?

Diddly-squat” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 194).

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5.5 Conclusion

Opponents spoke of Site C in terms of violence because, particularly in the context of existing intensive development, it would be violent; it would, like the WAC Bennett dam, exhibit the structural environmental violence typical of extractivism, distributing benefits and harms unevenly and violating basic human needs.

Like the WAC Bennett Dam, Site C would insult “survival needs,” (Galtung, 1990, 292) destabilizing livelihoods and compromising food security, and exposing residents of the region, particularly Indigenous women and girls, to increased risk of physical violence. Like the Bennett dam, Site C would also undermine social and individual “well-being” (Galtung, 1990, 292). The

Bennett dam physically isolated family and friends from one another, and disrupted personal and communal autonomy, and Site C had already begun to fracture community life and friendships in nearby municipalities, and would, if it proceeded, threaten cultural life and interrupt the transmission of cultural knowledge in Indigenous communities. Insults to “identity needs”

(Galtung, 1990, 292) due to the construction of the Bennett dam bred a persistent sense of grievance: the lack of consultation and even notice regarding the project, disregard for valley residents’ needs and interests, lack of labour priority, and inadequate, delayed, grudging compensation for loss of livelihood and of property, and for general harms, made those affected feel like “secondary citizens” (Galtung, 1990, 292), in a way that still rankles decades later.

Similarly, the expectation that Site C would primarily benefit others, elsewhere, while imposing suffering locally, along with the expectation that the project would erode the meaningful exercise of the Treaty rights to which many of the affected First Nations were legally entitled, gave rise to a sense of indignity and exploitation among Site C opponents that BC Hydro’s mitigation and compensation plans did not alleviate (as will be further discussed in Chapter 8). 170

Site C would also critically impede the fulfilment of “meaning” needs (Galtung, 1990,

292) for those who were attached to land, as did the Bennett dam. Site C would repeat the rupture of the bond with the land, as valley residents would suffer a form of “ecological grief”

(Cunsolo & Ellis, 2018) watching places that were personally beloved, as well as associated with family and ancestors, be transformed and lost to them. To different degrees, and in different ways, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous people would experience loss of community, heritage, ties to forebears, and cultural knowledge. By inundating or changing beyond recognition sacred and culturally important sites, as well as impeding access to favoured hunting, trapping, fishing places, and affecting wildlife populations, Site C, like the earlier dam, would also restrict, if not completely prevent, the practice of local First Nations’ land-based culture and religion. Such “desocialization” may constitute “spiritual death” (Galtung, 1990, 292, 293); Tuck and Yang call such “disruption of Indigenous relationships to land…a profound epistemic, ontological, cosmological violence” (Tuck & Yang, 2012, 5).

As many valley residents feared, Site C would be violent in its consequences, if not its objectives, causing suffering through harms to their physical health, their relationships to the land around them, their social and spiritual welfare. This suffering was not natural or inevitable, but the avoidable result of human decisions. In the following chapters, I will investigate how this violence was justified through the consultation and environmental assessment process.

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Being “Consulted Upon”

6.1 Introduction

The WAC Bennett Dam was built in a “different time,” as Site C supporters often pointed out (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2016, 2017a). The mores of that time permitted an epochal, but in hindsight shockingly violent, project that transformed the region ecologically, socially, and economically. In the 2010s, the provincial government and BC Hydro desired an additional dam, but faced a difficulty: 1960s-style disregard for Indigenous rights, the environment, and social licence is no longer acceptable, and they would like to carry out the project “in a different way than what was done perhaps a couple of generations ago”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 338), but the impacts of dams are not fundamentally different. A new justification is required. Just as cultural violence (Galtung, 1990) made the violence of the WAC

Bennett dam invisible, I argue that the Site C Environmental Assessment and consultation process (whether deliberately or not) similarly served to dissimulate the potential violence of that project. In this chapter, I will briefly examine the cultural violence that authorized the WAC

Bennett dam, before outlining the Site C consultation process, arguing that it served primarily to create the perception that the project was being done “properly,” that its environmental and social impacts were being duly addressed, rather than to actually address them. In later chapters I will discuss in more detail the cultural violence that was expressed through that process.

6.2 Cultural Violence: “They Call It Progress, We Call It Destruction”

The violence of the WAC Bennett dam may be easier to see in retrospect, due to the operation of what Galtung calls “cultural violence:” “those aspects of culture, the symbolic sphere of our existence… that can be used to justify or legitimize direct or structural violence”

(1990, 291). For example, an “ideology” (in Galtung’s terms (1990, 298)—Docherty (2001) 172

might call it a “worldview”) that creates a sharp hierarchy between an exalted “Self” and a debased “Other” generates “speciesism,” racism, colonialism, classism and similar evils

(Galtung, 1990, 298). If Others are seen as less intelligent or logical, less the “carriers of civilization and the historical process,” less “entitled to power and privilege” because in a meritocracy, “the best” are by definition at the top; if belief in “modernization, development, progress,” is unquestionable; then exploitation seems justified and the “moral color” of violence changes “from red/wrong to green/right or at least to yellow/acceptable” (Galtung, 1990, 298,

292).

From the 1950s, to 1970s, for example, during a North American hydro-electric dam- building boom when the WAC Bennett dam was constructed, dam proponents were willing accept the environmental and social consequences of these dams for the sake of a “modern way of life” (Nathan, 2009, 8); they discounted the dam’s impacts on people who were seen as less modern and civilized, and therefore less deserving. The mainstream media of the day supported this view, portraying construction of a large dam in northeastern BC as necessary for economic development, even inevitable, reassuring readers that the human and environmental repercussions would be minimal, in part through tropes of “empty land,” and the “vanishing

Indian” (Nathan, 2009, 53).

Around the world, through what Nixon calls the rhetorical “invention of emptiness— emptiness being the wrong kind of presence—‘underdeveloped’ people on ‘underdeveloped’ land,” who are considered “irrational impediments to ‘progress,’” particularly the building of dams, have been “statistically—and sometimes fatally—disappeared” (Nixon, 2011, 165, 152).

Thus British Columbia newspapers depicted the north as “empty and inhospitable,” (Nathan,

2009, 5) inhabited by only “a few nomads” (Sherman, 1966, 209, in Nathan, 2009, 53); the editor 173

of a collection of writings about the region had earlier described the Rocky Mountain Trench area as “an untouched wilderness,” and the Tse Keh Nay people as “sadly decimated” (Bowes,

1963, 15, 18, in Nathan, 2009, 53)—although census data showed that the Indigenous population was actually increasing at twice the national rate (Nathan, 2009, 53). Media portrayals of the Tse

Keh Nay people oscillated between the racially deterministic: a “Neolithic race of man” who could never hope to rise above their “squalid” living conditions (Prince George Citizen, 1957, 1 in Nathan, 2009, 56); and the assimilationist: a people “trapped” in their obsolete hunting, gathering, and fur-trading livelihoods, whose future lay in incorporation into modern culture and economy (Metcalfe, 1957, 1, in Nathan, 2009, 55). In either case, the causes of Tse Keh Nay marginalization were attributed not to industrial development, but to “racial and cultural factors”

(Nathan, 2009, 4), that is, to their own supposed unfitness for modern life and progress, thereby absolving the proponents and potential beneficiaries of the dam project from responsibility for its injustices.

Nevertheless, some “groups and individuals” questioned the need for a dam, particularly one that would flood such a vast area, and inquired who might be displaced, as well as balking at the expense (Nathan, 2009); however, the mid-20th Century flurry of dam building was based on an assumed correspondence between high levels of energy consumption and a high standard of living, and Canadians who doubted the value of dams “were overwhelmed by the rhetoric of progress” and asked if they would prefer to “return to wood stoves and candlelight” (Froschauer,

1999, 4 in Nathan, 2009, 8). The periodical The Native Voice, which pointed out the potential implications of hydroelectric development on Indigenous lives and Aboriginal land rights in BC, received little attention, (although provincial politicians, among others, were certainly aware of the publication, given that they advertised in it at election time) (Nathan, 2009). 174

For Cabinet Minister Ray Williston, the “problem…of a small number of individuals having their livelihood interfered with” was “one of the penalties of progress.” He compared the consequences of industrial development to “Acts of God, and thus by inference not subject to man’s responsibility” (“Howard Fights for Trapline Compensation,” 1956, in Nathan, 2009, 97)

The “imperative of modernisation through major hydroelectric development appeared so compellingly self-evident,” that even into the 1990s local academic historians, anthropologists and geographers failed to challenge the necessity, inevitability, or public value of such projects, portraying the social consequences as a “tragedy” due to “forces beyond human control,” rather than the result of human decisions and actions (Nathan, 2009, 9).

According to a worldview that emphasized personal success (according to a culturally- specific definition) along with race and class as determinants of power and entitlement to consideration, the pursuit of economic development, modernity and progress outweighed ecological ravaging accompanied by disruption and heartbreak for a relatively small number of rural and Indigenous people. Cultural violence obscured the brutality of this development endeavour.

6.3 The Site C Consultation and Environmental Assessment Process

In June 2016, BC Hydro launched the new “Our Story, Our Voice” gallery at the Bennett dam Visitors’ Centre. The exhibit recognizes the impacts of the Bennett dam, with the message

They Call it Progress, We Call it Destruction” in large letters on the gallery wall (BCH, 2016, photo). The opening ceremony for the exhibit included a formal apology to the affected First

Nations by the Vice President (VP) of BC Hydro, who affirmed that “BC Hydro deeply regrets

[the impacts of the WAC Bennett dam on the environment and First Nations] and we commit that we will not repeat the mistakes of the past.” He had previously commented that the Bennett 175

dam was built “…before Aboriginal rights were recognized in the Constitution, before the

Supreme Court had established expectations around First Nations consultation and accommodation…at a time when people didn’t understand Aboriginal rights…” (BCH, 2017a).

He explained at the ceremony that it had taken many years for BC Hydro to fully appreciate the dam’s impacts; at the time, the builders of the dam, the government that conceived it, and society in general “simply did not see” them (S. Cox, 2018, 111). Be that as it may, it seemed that there had been a collective shift in worldview, a gap in the cultural violence that had camouflaged the dam’s impacts forty or fifty years earlier. Except that as the Vice President delivered the apology, BC Hydro had been at work for almost a year on the construction of Site C—a third dam on the same river that would, like the Bennett dam, if on a smaller scale, inundate First

Nations’ traditional territory, drown forests and farms, displace farming families, and block ungulate migration routes.

Official apologies, like BC Hydro’s, often consign “egregious conduct” to the past, while ignoring ongoing dispossession of First Nations from their land for the sake of economic growth

(Youdelis, 2016, 138). Policy makers express contrition over “historical wrongdoing,” but emphasize a “break from the past and a movement into an improved future for aboriginal and non-aboriginal Canadians,” (Blackburn, 2007, 626), glossing over the fact that the very same wrongdoing continues to be perpetrated in the present.30 In 2017, the former Vice-President, now the President of BC Hydro, commented that “we sometimes get accused of making the same

30 A similar phenomenon occurs in Australia, where Gooder and Jacob note that the “era of reconciliation,” marked by various official and public forms of apology, has not resulted in greater “material recognition of indigenous needs,” but a “postnative title backlash” and negative responses to the “overturning of the doctrine of terra nullius” by the mining sector, among others (2000, 234).

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mistakes again with the Site C project.” While he could “appreciate why people might feel that way,” he believed the accusation was “not really supported by the facts.” Whereas for the

Bennett Dam there was no “dialogue or engagement [or] opportunity for discussion or accommodation,” Site C is being built in a “completely different context,” and the process includes “many, many years of consultation and engagement with First Nations” (BCH, 2017a).

In addition, Site C underwent a “three-year independent joint federal-provincial environmental panel, and coming out of that there were 150 very strict conditions imposed on the construction” (BCH, 2017a). This consultation and environmental assessment process was an important basis for BC Hydro (and the provincial government’s) efforts to repudiate the

“mistakes of the past,” while proceeding with a comparable project, but it made relatively little substantial difference to the actual outcome, from the point of view of affected people.

The BC government had initiated Site C in 2007 (for the third time31), when the BC

Energy Plan directed BC Hydro to begin “pre-consultations” on Site C. This began a phased process of consulting the general public, as well as affected First Nations, in accordance with the

Crown’s duty to consult and accommodate. The outline below focuses on the public consultation process, for which records are publicly available.

31 Not very long after the WAC Bennett dam was completed, the construction of the Peace Canyon dam (“Site 1”) from 1974 to 1980 (Dusyk, 2011), in a narrow and rocky part of the river, had attracted relatively little protest, although it put fifteen hundred dinosaur tracks, some dating back one hundred million years, under water (Cox, 2018, 85); however, rumours that construction of a third dam was being considered at Site C prompted the creation of the Peace Valley Environment Association (PVEA), which successfully advocated for public hearings under the British Columbia Utilities Commission, created in 1980, in part to provide independent evaluation of BC Hydro projects (Smith, 1988, in Dusyk, 2011). With the region “feeling the pinch” economically, and local business people and others backing Site C “for all they were worth,” the hearings became a “fight” of “neighbour against neighbour” (Pollon & Matheson, 2003, 251, 258), to the point that the PVEA President at the time received physical threats (Interviewee 4, 11/28/2013). Following a two-year review (Dusyk, 2011, 2016), the BCUC, unconvinced of the need for Site C at the time, recommended against the project. BC Hydro briefly reconsidered Site C again in the 1990s, but then shelved it until 2007. 177

Particularly compared to the 1960s’ process, when, as a BC Hydro employee put it,

“there was a one-day hearing for the WAC Bennett dam, one of the largest infrastructure projects in North America, and we put a shovel in the ground the next day” (Interviewee 30, 12/19/2014), the Site C consultation process was extensive. Exhaustive and meticulous, the consultations were ultimately spurious, however; there is evidence for Site C opponents’ conviction that the decision to build the dam had been made by the time the process began. Many participants found the process frustrating and exploitative, but felt compelled to participate, in order to have any input into the process, as well as to reserve the right to protest the project in future. But whether or not by design, the process served a function. In the new social climate of environmental awareness and increased recognition of Indigenous rights, it was no longer possible to “not see” the drastic impacts of a large hydroelectric dam; the Environmental Assessment and Consultation process provided the necessary legitimization, assuring the public that the appropriate scientific studies had been done, and implying that those affected had had the opportunity to modify the project to their satisfaction, even if the process did not fundamentally influence the conclusion. This is not to say that the presumably well-meaning and sincere employees of BC Hydro, the Canada

Environmental Assessment Agency (CEAA) the British Columbia Environmental Assessment

Office (BCEAO), or the provincial government intended their actions, or the process as a whole, to amount to violence—structural and cultural violence are built into systems, and defined by their consequences, not by individual intent to harm (Galtung, 1969).

6.3.1 “Many, Many Years of Consultation and Engagement”

The Notice of Pre-Consultation Program published in local newspapers from December

2007 to February 2008, invited the public to consult on how they wished to be consulted, and the topics they wished to discuss, but assured readers that “A decision on whether to build Site C is 178

still years away. The project is one of several options available to help meet the growing gap between supply and demand of electricity in B.C.” (BCH, 2007b, emphasis added). Following the pre-consultation sessions, in response to participants’ expressed preferences, BC Hydro made available various channels for subsequent consultations: stakeholder meetings, open houses, online feedback forms, written submissions, an information phone line and a community consultation office. By the time two rounds of Project Definition Consultation took place in the spring and fall of 2008, however, “updat[ing] the potential project’s design and definition,” with respect to topics including “key impacts, benefits and features” of the project was already on the agenda, along with “Site C as an energy option” (Kirk & Co. Consulting Ltd and Synovate Ltd,

2009).

In early 2010, the provincial Cabinet advanced the Site C project to the active environmental assessment phase. On April 18, 2010, Premier Gordon Campbell, and what a

Globe and Mail newspaper reporter called “five planeloads of cheerleaders” (Hunter, 2017) flew to the Peace River to announce in definitive terms that the government “will move forward with the Site C Clean Energy Project…which will build on B.C.’s heritage of clean, renewable and affordable power” (BCH, 2010, emphasis added). Shortly thereafter, the provincial government introduced the Clean Energy Act, which, among other provisions, prohibited the development of major hydro-electric projects on rivers other than the Peace, and exempted Site C from the standard examination by the British Columbia Utilities Corporation, which regulates utilities in the public interest. Academic observers commented that the provisions of the Clean Energy Act, including limitations on how the provincial need for electricity must be fulfilled and how Site C would be evaluated made Site C’s inclusion “within a preferred portfolio for meeting the potential future electricity needs of the Province…almost inevitable” (Bakker, Christie, & 179

Hendriks, 2016b, 4), and that the “regulatory streamlining of the Clean Energy Act suggests that provincial decision makers are uninterested in publicly debating the project” (Dusyk, 2011, 878).

A joint provincial (BCEAO)–federal (CEAA), environmental assessment process for Site

C began in August 2011. At this stage, although consultations had never taken place on energy options other than Site C, the alternatives under consideration had clearly been narrowed down:

“Site C requires environmental certification and other regulatory permits and approvals before it can proceed to construction,” reads the consultation summary report, dated January 2013 (Kirk and Co. Consulting Ltd and Mustel Group Market Research, 2013, 2). BC Hydro generated, and

BCEAO and CEAA approved and published, Draft Guidelines for the Environmental Impact

Statement on April 10, 2012, and, after a 45-day public comment period, the final Guidelines appeared on September 5, 2012. In the meantime, two further rounds of consultation took place, in spring and fall 2012, in which BC Hydro provided information and sought feedback on aspects of a Site C project, such as transportation and highway realignment, worker accommodation, reservoir recreation, the vegetation clearing plan, and an agricultural assessment and impact mitigation plan (Kirk & Co. Consulting Ltd and Mustel Group Market Research,

2012, 2013).

BC Hydro submitted the Environmental Impact Statement (EIS, also known as the

Environmental Impact Assessment, (EIA)) on January 25, 2013, and the public had 60 days to comment on that document (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013i), which ran to 27 thick binders. A Joint

Review Panel (JRP) was appointed in August 2013, and a draft schedule for public hearings was announced once the Panelists were satisfied with the EIS, now totaling approximately 27,000 pages (CEAA/BCEAO), 2013a, 10).

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Its Terms of Reference directed the Joint Review Panel to consider during the hearings

“the environmental, economic, social, health and heritage effects” of Site C, including potential

“cumulative effects…from the Project in combination with other projects or activities…” and the

“significance” of those effects, as well as possible measures to mitigate them. The Panel’s scope did not allow for detailed examination of the business case for Site C, nor for extensive comparison of Site C with alternatives ([Joint Review Panel] Review Panel Established by the

Federal Minister of the Environment and the British Columbia Minister of Environment (JRP),

2014, 337). In addition, while the Panel was also to “describe any asserted or established

Aboriginal rights and Treaty rights…raised during the [hearings] and any impacts on those rights as articulated by those Aboriginal Groups” and to make recommendations as to how those effects could be minimized, it was specifically forbidden to “make conclusions or recommendations” regarding the “nature,” “scope,” or “strength” of asserted Aboriginal rights, whether the Crown had fulfilled its duty to consult and accommodate, or “any matter of treaty interpretation,” including whether Site C would constitute a violation of Treaty 8 (JRP, 2014, 337f).

After 28 days of hearings concluding in January 2014, the Panel submitted its report in

April 2014. Rather than approving or rejecting the project, the Panel outlined the pros and cons.

First, though, the Panel stressed that it did not have the “information, time or resources” to analyse the financial costs of Site C or alternatives independently (JRP 2014, 280) and that if the government wished to proceed, it should first refer the project to the British Columbia Utilities

Commission (BCUC) for further review (JRP, 2014, v) (advice that the government at the time did not follow). The Panel did conclude that while “the benefits are clear”—Site C did offer long-term economic advantages and would “produce a vastly smaller burden of greenhouse gases than any alternative”—BC Hydro had not “fully demonstrated the need for the Project on the 181

timetable set forth” (JRP 2014, iv, 306). The Panel also laid out the non-economic costs of Site

C, namely “permanent damages to nature, the interests of First Nations, and to…specific local interests,” concluding that the dam would have “significant adverse environmental effects” in addition to those BC Hydro had specified in the EIS, and that some of these could not be mitigated (JRP 2014, 308). Both Site C proponents and opponents claimed victory.

Independent investigation by the University of British Columbia’s Program on Water

Governance, however, shed additional light on the environmental impacts of Site C. Their report pointed out that, perhaps because of its short timeframe,32 the Panel had not conducted its own analysis regarding the potential greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions of Site C or of alternative energy sources, nor received evidence from multiple sources, but based its conclusion entirely on

BC Hydro’s submissions. The Water Governance program’s own analysis,33 based on BC Hydro data, demonstrates that the JRP’s view that Site C’s greenhouse gas footprint would be “vastly smaller” than those of alternatives, was “unfounded” (Hendriks & Bakker, 2016, 5). The

Program’s calculations suggested that BC Hydro had missed opportunities to minimize both cost and greenhouse gas emissions in the “portfolio” of renewable energy sources it had put forward as an alternative against which to compare Site C, but if that portfolio were “fully optimized,”

Site C’s greenhouse gas advantage would be marginal—“the difference in lifecycle GHG

32 Nine months compared to 32 and 41 months total review for Manitoba’s Keeyask Dam and Newfoundland and Labrador’s Lower Churchill Hydroelectric Generation Project, respectively (Bakker et al, Briefing Note #3, 14).

33 The analysis was conducted by Rick Hendriks, an energy consultant who also acted as a consultant to the Treaty 8 First Nations during the Site C Environmental Assessment; “the report was overseen by Dr. Karen Bakker (UBC), and independently reviewed by Dr. Arthur Fredeen (UNBC), Dr. Normand Mousseau (Université de Montreal), and Philip Raphals (Helios Centre, Montreal).” Dr. Raphals also provided a report to the Joint Review Panel on behalf of the Treaty 8 Tribal Association. 182

emissions” between it and the “Alternative Portfolio” would be “at most 1% of BC’s current emissions” (Hendriks & Bakker, 2016, 2).34

The Program on Water Governance also called attention to the magnitude of Site C’s potential impacts, explaining that a finding in a CEAA review of even one significant adverse environmental effect is “neither a trivial matter nor a common occurrence” (Bakker, Christie, &

Hendriks, 2016b, 4). Since the inception of CEAA, for only ten of the 120 major projects reviewed, besides Site C, had significant adverse environmental effects been identified. Thus the

Joint Review Panel’s finding that “twenty-two” adverse effects of Site C would be significant

“for dozens of species, as well as for aquatics, vegetation, wildlife, Aboriginal use of lands and resources, and cultural heritage” (Bakker, Christie, & Hendriks, 2016a, 13; Bakker et al., 2016b,

1) was “unprecedented in the history of environmental assessment under the Canadian

Environmental Assessment Act” (Bakker et al., 2016b, 5). The Water Governance program argues that the proposed alternatives to Site C, on the other hand, would have fewer adverse environmental effects overall, and none of significance (Bakker et al., 2016b).

34 According to David Schindler, distinguished limnologist, recipient of eleven honourary doctorates, and Officer of the Order of Canada, “to consider hydro power as ‘non-GHG-emitting power’ is not supported by scientific studies” (2018, 55). Research dating to the 1990s has demonstrated that decomposing soils and vegetation in reservoirs transforms ecosystems from carbon sink to carbon source. The magnitude and duration of this effect varies, depending on factors such as climate and reservoir size and depth. More research is required, but “it is safe to say that GHG emissions from hydro reservoirs will be significant enough that they must be counted in national carbon budgets.” Once emissions due to land clearing, earth moving, and manufacture and transportation of materials such as concrete and steel are included, total GHG emissions from hydroelectricity are “expected to be only slightly less than from burning natural gas.” The lack of attention in Canadian GHG policy to the research on reservoir emissions shows a “disgusting disregard for science,” Schindler writes (2018, 56). The Site C EIS Executive Summary makes no mention of reservoir emissions in its comments on the project’s GHG footprint; however an information sheet states that the Site C GHG modelling was conducted using guidelines from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, that reservoirs in northern climates emit fewer GHGs than those in the tropics, and that Site C would have a relatively small reservoir footprint in relation to the amount of energy produced (BCH, 2013d, 2013a). 183

The release of the Joint Review Panel’s report concluded the public consultation process; however, consultation with First Nations had been taking place in parallel, and BCEAO and

CEAA continued these consultations, providing their governments with a final Consultation and

Accommodation report, in which they deemed their own and BC Hydro’s First Nations consultation process to be “procedurally adequate” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014, in Bakker et al.,

2016a, 16). This was the only assessment of the Crown consultation. When Site C was exempted from BCUC oversight, the requirement by which the BCUC would normally assess the adequacy of First Nations consultation was also removed; this exemption, along with the prohibition on the

JRP regarding commenting on consultation and Indigenous and Treaty Rights, “ensured that there would be no independent determination as to whether the Crown met its duty to consult”

(Bakker et al., 2016a, 15).

Neither was the question of whether Site C would constitute an infringement of Treaty 8 ever publicly addressed (Bakker et al., 2016a). Treaty 8 grants the signatory Nations the “right to pursue their usual vocations of hunting, trapping and fishing throughout the tract surrendered…

“except where land is required to be “taken up from time to time for settlement, mining, lumbering, trading or other purposes” (“Treaty No. 8…” 1966, 12). In Mikisew Cree First Nation v. Canada (Minister of Canadian Heritage), the court determined that the Crown must…act in good faith and not take up so much land that no meaningful right to hunt remains.” R. v. Sparrow had previously determined that government must avoid infringing on Treaty rights except where there are “compelling and substantial” reasons to do so (Booth & Skelton, 2011, 371).

In October 2014, the federal and provincial environment Ministers formally decided whether the environmental impacts of the project would be “significant” (yes), and the respective

Cabinets then decided whether these impacts were justified under the circumstances (yes). In a 184

press release, the provincial Minister of the Environment stated that the “benefits provided by the project outweigh the risks of significant adverse environmental, social and heritage effects”

(Reaburn, 2014), and emphasized that approval was subject to conditions regarding mitigation of and compensation for social and environmental impacts, but neither the federal Decision

Statement (Minister of the Environment, 2014) nor the provincial Environmental Assessment

Certificate (BCEAO, 2014a), nor the federal Order-in Council (Privy Council Office, 2014, in

Bakker et al., 2016a, 17) mention the question of possible Treaty infringement.

Yet in publicizing environmental approval of Site C, proponents used both the consultation process and the environmental assessment process to legitimize the decision. In a press release announcing environmental approval of Site C, for example, the provincial government stated that the relevant ministers

“made the decision after considering a co-operative environmental assessment…[that] included consultation with and input from Aboriginal groups, government agencies, communities and the public… [and that] provided meaningful consultation with Aboriginal groups to understand the potential impacts on Site C on Aboriginal interests and to develop substantive accommodation measures that will avoid, mitigate or offset those potential impacts” (Reaburn, 2014).

The federal Minister of the Environment issued a similar statement, stressing that consultations had been “extensive, meaningful and respectful,” and that the assessment process included review by an independent panel, and “effective engagement of the public and Aboriginal groups"

(Office of the Minister of the Environment, 2014). A description of the consultation process dominated BC Hydro’s own press release; the document emphasized the “more than 500 meetings, presentations, community events and open houses” that had taken place since 2007.

The environmental assessment process, BC Hydro also pointed out,

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“included multiple years of studies to identify and assess potential project effects…[and] BC Hydro filed more than 29,000 pages of evidence and responded to more than 7,000 information requests…[while] the regulatory agencies undertook multiple consultation periods, culminating in a two-month hearing process held by an independent Joint Review Panel” (BCH, 2014b).

As many had expected, the provincial government announced its Final Investment

Decision in December 2014. Construction of Site C began during the summer of 2015. The beginning of construction did not mean the end of controversy, however. Protests included five legal actions against the provincial and federal governments, a protest camp preventing clear- cutting in the inundation zone, and a “life-threatening” hunger strike (S. Cox, 2018, 60).

In addition to these protests from the long-time opponents of the project, others joined in critique of the consultation and assessment process. In March 2016, the Joint Review Panel Chair took the “unprecedented” step of commenting on the government’s decision; suggesting that it would have been wiser to defer a decision on Site C for several years, and calling the failure to investigate alternatives more fully a “dereliction of duty” (Gilchrist, 2015). He became an open critic of Site C, and argued that a better cost benefit analysis “would have obviated the need to study First Nations and environmental impacts at all,” because the project was such a “financial stinker[] from the start” (Foy, 2017). That same spring, hundreds of academics signed on to the

“Statement of Concern on the Proposed Site C Project,” calling on the federal and provincial governments to suspend the project until the “significant gaps and inadequacies” in the review process, notably those relating to Treaty Rights, environmental protection and “evidence-based decision-making with scientific integrity” could be rectified. They further requested the governments to better justify “the unprecedented imposition of numerous significant adverse environmental effects,” for a “Project whose electricity output is presently unnecessary and for

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which less expensive and less environmentally damaging alternatives exist” (Concerned

Scholars, 2016).

Site C opponents in the Peace Region had gradually gained supporters throughout the province, and following a provincial election in the spring of 2017, the newly elected New

Democratic Party (NDP) government, which had opposed Site C while in opposition, subjected the project to an expedited review by the BCUC. Following that somewhat equivocal review, the

NDP government ultimately proceeded with Site C; however, as of fall 2020, active opposition, including an ongoing court challenge by the West Moberly First Nations, persists.

6.4 Being “Consulted Upon”

Like Site C itself, the consultations, especially those that preceded the public hearings, were a great source of contention. According to interviews I conducted between June 2013 and

October 2014, as well as the consultation records posted on BC Hydro’s Site C website, and the public hearing transcripts, there was a striking contrast between BC Hydro’s portrayal of the consultations as ample, even generous, and Site C opponents’ insistence that there had been no meaningful consultation.

6.4.1 “We Hear You…”

Many Site C opponents I spoke to had been regular participants in the consultation sessions, and unanimously condemned them. Several pro-Site C interviewees, including a consultation professional at the management level in the public sector, also expressed criticism.

The general complaint was that the consultation sessions consisted, not of “a two-way exchange,” or “discussion,” (as interviewees suggested it should be (Interviewee 18, 9/27/2014,

Interviewee 28, 29 10/23/2014; Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014)), but “to a large extent [of] BC Hydro coming and telling us we’re going to do this. It’s just an information session basically” 187

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 211). As a supporter of Site C put it, the meeting he attended was “more of a presentation than a consultation.” In his opinion, proponents of a project, who are paying for the consultation process, “are gonna steer how it goes, and they definitely steered it”

(Interviewee 22, 10/6/2014). Participants who wanted to protest Site C objected to “being conducted through prewritten booklets with no time to reflect or discuss,” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013j, 48), and the requirement to stick to a schedule, which discouraged questions

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 194).

Many maintained that the consultations were not respectful or constructive. They complained that BC Hydro representatives were often unable to answer their questions, and often made errors (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 142; Interviewees 15, 16, 8/27/2014), feeling that BC

Hydro was not reciprocating the (unpaid) time and energy they put into their participation. First

Nations were particularly offended when their chiefs and senior leaders were expected to make time for meetings, only to find that BC Hydro or the government sent junior representatives who lacked the knowledge to answer questions or the power to make decisions. According to a West

Moberly member, BC Hydro also failed to pay respect by consulting elders on archeological studies: “never has there been any meaningful request to our Nation’s elders,” who are “experts on the land and on their history” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 133). (BC Hydro responded that

“there are a specific number of days set aside for the purpose of ground truthing with elders and with First Nation communities should they wish to take us up on that offer” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013g, 138). For Chief Davis of Saulteau, the attempt to “try and understand another culture,” though difficult, should have been “the most important component of this whole process,” yet

“no one bothered to take the time to come and seriously sit down and talk to us about this project” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 253). 188

Participants often felt that the consultation process was biased and manipulative, “phony”

(Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013) or “rigged” (Interviewee 16, 8/27/2014). For example, one speaker pointed out that in the discussion guides, the potential impacts of Site C were given as brief, neutral headings (“environment,” “First Nations,” “land”), whereas the headings regarding benefits included “positive adjectives” (“dependable energy and capacity,” “clean and renewable energy,” “optimizing existing power generation”) (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 194). One participant recounted that he had submitted a 16-page analysis of the agricultural section of the EIS, with questions referring to specific line numbers and that BC Hydro’s response simply referred him back to the same document. He concluded that “from [BC Hydro’s] point of view, it didn’t matter what their answers were, as long as they provided something…and then they had covered themselves off” (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013).

Over and over, consultation participants—Site C opponents—objected to being told they had been “heard,” when their concerns had not actually been addressed (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f,

65, 110, 124). As one participant explained,

“Time and time again … we would go to be consulted over this project, and you would sit there and a bunch of very nice people would say, yes, yes, we hear you, we understand, we understand your troubles, blah blah, and then you’d go on to the next one, and exactly the same thing would happen… No change in the actual plan of what they are going to do” (Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014).

A young environmental technician from West Moberly, who referred to “being consulted upon,” may have unintentionally conveyed the experience of many. Overall, a number of participants expressed that they “just feel used and part of the whole process of making the project so then they can say we’ve consulted with you” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 21) and often wanted to stop attending. Another participant felt that BC Hydro saw the public consultation process as one of the “hoops we have to jump” and that whatever the result, the project would go 189

ahead with the government’s backing (Interviewee 2, 8/15/2013). On the other hand, many people felt that even if they “could not face more meetings,” they had no choice to participate. If they did not, “Hydro could claim that we were not interested” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 48). They felt the process was “the only venue” to “have any input,” and to stay “educated” on what was happening, to “present our side” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014).

6.4.2 What is Consultation?

By the second day of the public hearings, one Review Panelist had heard so many complaints about the consultation process, that, although it was not in the Panel’s mandate to determine if Crown consultation was adequate, she commented that “I think the communication staff at BC Hydro had a vast communication strategy and action plan to try to consult everyone, and we’re starting to hear that people are not satisfied with that, and I’d like to know, then, what is the definition of everyone, ‘What is consultation?’” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 80). The answers to her question reflected the desire to engage on an equitable basis, and to have substantive influence over the project.

The Treaty 8 Tribal Chief said that, in her own opinion, (not necessarily those of the five chiefs she represented)

“consultation is not coming to our office with the volumes of information that they have and say, here, have a look at this and let us know what you think and then leave…It’s not coming to our office for an hour and saying we know what you think and we know who you are. Come and spend some time in our nation…we need to be informed fully and meaningfully…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 82).

A member of the Doig River First Nation stressed that for consultation to be meaningful, the people consulted should be part of the decision-making. “Saying, oh, here is a little bit of money and go do your little …and, oh, we're going to get a couple of Indians to build some

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[archaeological] holes, so now we're consulted” did not constitute consultation in his view. He asked, “where is all that information so that I could formally be informed as a partner?”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 85). Further, the West Moberly Chief recalled that in a recent West

Moberly First Nations’ case against BC and a mining company, the court ruled that “you cannot enter into a consultation process with a determined outcome.” Since BC Hydro and the province had already determined that Site C is going to be built, he believed, “we have no ability to have a dialogue on reconciliation or accommodation,” and “that’s not consultation.” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013b, 83). The lawyer for Saulteau First Nations suggested that for a definition of proper consultation, the Panel should look to the concept of free, prior, and informed consent and the consultation model contained in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous

Peoples (UNDRIP) (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 86). And a Euro-Canadian landowner also jumped up to give her definition of what consultation was not:

“Having lived in the valley for 33 years, and my grandfather since the late '40s, and having a flood reserve over your head since 1957, and having BC Hydro come to you with a document asking do you want the highway to go through your home? Or do you want the highway to go through your agricultural land? To me that's not a consultation. That's insulting” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 87).

For both First Nations and non-Indigenous residents, the fundamental issue seemed to be that Site C was the only possibility under consideration. Site C opponents wanted to be able to reject Site C or to choose an alternative, but the consultation process only offered the opportunity to comment on the implementation of Site C. The gap between perspectives was evident in BC

Hydro’s defense of their consultation process, in response to the Panelist’s question above and in their closing submission, as they focused on the details and the completeness and conscientiousness of their efforts, rather than the central premise.

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6.4.3 BC Hydro on Consultation

6.4.3.1 Public Consultations: Consistent with Guidelines

BC Hydro’s Vice President for Site C argued that the consultation process was consistent with the EIS Guidelines, which state that “the overall objective of public participation is best achieved when all parties have a clear understanding of the proposed project as early as possible in the review process” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013, 19). The Vice-President emphasized that BC

Hydro had begun consultations early, “approximately three and a half years before the start of the formal environmental assessment process” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 19). The seven rounds of consultation, in which “current information” was provided, were extensively publicized ahead of time and included several modes of input (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 21). BC Hydro, she continued, participated in more than 500 meetings, open houses, presentations, and trade fairs with local governments, provincial agencies, school districts, the RCMP, BC Housing, the

Airport, community organizations, as well as the general public and First Nations. BC Hydro also responded to 3200 public inquiries (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 22). Later, she added that the company made a point of including technical personnel in the consultations, “because we believed it was important for those who were responsible for the project design and assessment to be directly involved in the consultation process” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 282). “Consideration memos” were written to reflect how public input had been incorporated into the mitigation and compensation measures and the overall project design. Examples of these adjustments to mitigation measures included modifying the proposed highway re-alignment, providing funding for social services non-profit organizations and for trades training, transporting gravel via conveyor belt rather than by truck, building new housing units in Fort St John, and concluding a

Regional Legacy Benefits Agreement. 192

These consultation activities were documented in publicly available meeting notes and summary reports prepared by third-party facilitators, as well as detailed “issue-tracking tables,”

(BCH, 2013e, Vo1. 1, Appendix G, H; Kirk & Co. Consulting Ltd. & Synovate Ltd., 2008, 2009;

Kirk and Co. Consulting Ltd and Mustel Group Market Research, 2012, 2013). The Vice

President acknowledged that not all concerns had yet been resolved, but that BC Hydro had

“worked hard to hear and to understand [people’s] concerns and to consider them thoroughly in the work we have undertaken,” and that, if the project was approved, “we will continue to work with communities throughout the construction and operation of this project” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013e, 28).

6.4.3.2 Consultations with Aboriginal Groups: “Timely, Structured, Well-Funded”

The EIS Guidelines also direct the project proponent to “ensure that it engages with

Aboriginal groups that may be affected by the project, or that have asserted or established

Aboriginal rights or treaty rights in the project area, as early as possible in the project planning process” (BCEAO/CEAA, 2012, Volume 1), and BC Hydro argued that they had done so, beginning their Aboriginal Consultation Program in “timely” fashion, before the environmental assessment, in order to build positive relationships. Moreover, they argued, the program was

“inclusive,” in that direct consultations were held with 29 Aboriginal groups, and information was exchanged with additional groups (BCH, 2014a, 128).

Indigenous groups were also invited to participate in Technical Advisory Committees, and to comment on the scope of the environmental assessment (BCH, 2014a, 129). BC Hydro provided $9.2 million in capacity funding (as of the end of March 2013) through formal consultation agreements or letters of agreement; in their view, the consultation process was therefore “structured,” and “well-funded” (BCH, 2014a, 129). BC Hydro reported that they 193

actively provided information about the project, working to make it accessible to non-technical participants, as well as ensuring that technical specialists received input from Aboriginal groups directly (BCH, 2014a, 130). BC Hydro provided $1.5 million in capacity funding for Traditional

Land Use Study Agreements, and proposed measures to avoid and mitigate impacts on the exercise of Aboriginal and treaty rights (BCH, 2014a, 131). Where that was impossible, BC

Hydro entered negotiations regarding Impact Benefit Agreements with groups that were willing to do so (BCH, 2014a, 131).

BC Hydro argued that such structured participation within an environmental assessment process fulfills the Crown’s duty to consult, citing court judgements to the effect that while consultation requires “a balancing of interests, of give and take,” and “good faith” efforts by the proponent to “understand and address concerns,” it does not grant a veto, nor impose a duty for parties to reach agreement. Furthermore, they argued, Canadian courts have not held UNDRIP to be legally binding (BCH, 2014a, 126, 127).

BC Hydro also pointed out that some First Nations consultations were not community- based because several member nations of the Treaty 8 Tribal Association had determined that consultation would take place only through the Tribal Association, not through their individual nations. A member of the First Nations consultation team felt that this consultation structure made it “really difficult to kind of get on the ground information from the people who are actually out there exercising their rights,” and that information filtered through consultants had a

“political aspect.” He felt the lack of the opportunity to “go on the ground,” to “actually interact, engage, consult, be on the ground with the First Nations people,” which helps to “actually understand what it is they’re telling you, and what concerns they may have” (Interviewee 3,

10/2/2013). 194

6.4.3.3 “Honourable” and “Transparent”

Some participants also had positive things to say about BC Hydro’s consultation efforts.

A Site C supporter and interviewee who had been to several consultation sessions over the years stated that BC Hydro had “made efforts to consult all the necessary agencies and the public,” and had made the sessions “quite accessible,” and therefore considered that “their consultation has been bold and proactive.” For him, the fact that the process did not please everyone was unavoidable, “no different than everything else we do” (Interviewee 26, 10/22/2014). A Director of the Peace River Regional District, an open opponent of Site C personally, gave credit to BC

Hydro’s consultation process, saying that BC Hydro had been “exemplary in trying to get [local governments] to the table” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 80). Another local politician (and supporter of Site C) appreciated BC Hydro’s apparent “no-surprises” rule, by which they kept local governments apprised of “timelines” and changes to the project. He also appreciated the participation of technical staff— “they actually had the right people in the room to answer questions”—and felt BC Hydro had done a “really good job on community outreach…a lot of townhall stuff” (Interviewee 24, 10/10/2014).

One First Nations speaker (at Saulteau) acknowledged BC Hydro’s work to build relationships; she commended BC Hydro

“for your efforts. That's a hard, hard task you have, and I've seen the real truth in your emotions, you know. It's not just your job that you're doing here. I see that. You know that we are people, and that's real relationship building, hey, when we have this really hard thing to consider and to work out together, and we need to continue that” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 40).

Part of BC Hydro’s approach, according to a staff member who had participated in the process, was that “we never turned anybody away, we never shut the doors and tried to keep people out;” protesters were admitted to meetings and allowed an opportunity to speak, songs were sung, a 195

play was performed. He felt that the respectful behaviour of the participants, despite the inevitable emotion, was a result of this openness (Interviewee 30, 12/19/2014). Furthermore, the

Vice President, in an exceptional expression of personal feeling (see Chapter 7), emphasized BC

Hydro’s integrity, responding to the accusation “that we at BC Hydro have not been truthful,” an accusation that, she said, “affects me deeply.” Due to the influence of her parents and grandparents, “being straightforward and honest in your relationships is something that I value more than anything.” Although “not perfect,” she believed that her team had worked very hard to be transparent, to do our best to understand and to answer questions directly, and we’ve made every effort to provide information and to seek information…” and, she concluded, had “tried very hard to work honourably and will continue to do so…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014b, 174).

6.4.4 A Done Deal

In all of this, however, there was no pretense of using public input to decide if Site C should proceed or not. In fact, a BC Hydro representative confirmed that, although it was quickly evident that consultation participants wanted to be asked whether Site C should proceed, not just how it should proceed, “Government directed us to go out and inform people about the project and gather information about the project. Our direction was not to…ask people whether they wanted the project or not.” In this representative’s view, however, a strength of the consultation process was that “we were honest in regards to what we had control over,” that is, the specifics of Site C implementation, not the choice of project (Interviewee 30, 12/19/2014).

Yet from the perspective of consultees opposed to Site C the emphasis on the fine details of a process they felt did not meet the definition of consultation was especially irksome. A

Treaty 8 chief complained, for example, that BC Hydro’s tally of communications with First

Nations included every email exchanged, even if the topic was only where the meeting would be 196

held, or what would be served for lunch.35 And one interviewee was frustrated that BC Hydro focused on the numbers of meetings and numbers of attendees, “and blah, blah, blah, but…They never consulted us! They just came and said, ‘this is what we gotta do. And we wanna know which is the best way to do it’” (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014, speaker’s emphasis). The PVEA

President pointed out that “There was never any opportunity to ask the most important question…The question that should have been asked: is the proposed Site C project actually needed? And is it the best option?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014d, 48).

Site C opponents were outraged by the provisions of the Clean Energy Act that precluded other energy-generation projects, and exempted Site C from scrutiny by the BC Utilities

Commission, thus eliminating cross-examinable testimony under oath, and a focused examination of “the real need…the real alternatives” (Interviewee 1, 8/14/2013). According to

John Gailus, counsel for the Treaty 8 Tribal Association, Crown actions such as the removal of

BCUC oversight also foreclosed the potential for shared decision-making. A shared decision- making process is a requirement for the “deep consultation” that a major project such as Site C demands if the “procedural rights to consultation” that Treaty 8 guarantees (along with substantive rights to hunt, fish, and trap) are to be fulfilled. BC Hydro and the Crown’s approach to consultation, i.e. with the decision already made, had not addressed either procedural or substantive rights (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 159). BC Hydro countered that “deep consultation” only requires “procedural protections to allow for meaningful participation in a decision-making process, all of which were in place here” (BCH, 2014a, 127).

35 According to Baker and Westman, it is common practice for proponents in Environmental Assessments to maintain spreadsheets of any and all attempts to contact First Nations, to demonstrate their consultation efforts (Baker & Westman, 2018). 197

For locals, the sight of work being done and money being spent—“the rock piles are already accumulated and many, many people have been hired” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 163)— reinforced the widespread perception of Site C as a “done deal.” To an affected landowner, BC

Hydro’s purchase of land for wetland compensation, and the soliciting of construction contracts before receiving final project approval were “a real example of the disrespect that they’re showing the process,” and “just kind of throwin’ it in the face of people” who think they can contribute to the environmental assessment process (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

6.5 Conclusion

The consultation and environmental assessment process was a pillar of the effort to differentiate Site C from the violence of the WAC Bennett dam. In the 1960s, dam proponents forged ahead without regard for the impacts on the environment or local people. By 2007, however, when Site C reappeared, the culturally violent outlook that took for granted that a small number of marginalized people should give way in the name of progress had shifted—at least on the surface. Site C proponents promised a project that would respect First Nations’ rights and the public interest and protect the environment, and the consultation process was the proof.

The process may have met the International Association for Public Participation (IAP2)’s definition of consultation: “to obtain public feedback on analysis, alternatives and/or decisions,” and BC Hydro did, as consultation requires, “keep you informed, listen to and acknowledge concerns and aspirations, and provide feedback on how public input influenced the decision,” but

Site C opponents expected a process that would allow them more influence—more

“involve[ment],” “collaborat[ion],” or even “empower[ment]” according to IAP2’s Spectrum of

Public Participation (International Association for Public Participation, 2018). They often

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charged BC Hydro’s consultation personnel with an obsession with “ticking boxes;” the process met formal requirements but did not actually achieve its purported substantive objectives.

Rather than engaging Site C opponents, the process left many highly motivated participants feeling frustrated, disrespected, and used. Neither did it ensure that Site C would be respectful of First Nations rights and local interests or protective of the environment, or even economically advantageous. As the Program on Water Governance points out, the logic for Site

C rested on the premise that “the significant environmental effects of the Site C Project

[including their impacts on First Nations Treaty Rights and traditional land use], which are unprecedented, are justifiable because the project is presumed to deliver [electricity] at lower costs and lower GHG emissions (i.e. the cleanest) compared to the available alternatives”

(Hendriks & Bakker, 2016). BC Hydro and the provincial government, the official proponents of the project, used the consultation and assessment process to uphold this premise as well as the perception that the First Nations’ rights had been accommodated. Yet the results of the process did not in fact support these claims.

The Joint Review Panel that independently examined the Environmental Impact

Assessment stated explicitly that they had lacked the time and resources to analyze the projected project costs. Based on BC Hydro’s evidence, however, the Panel was not convinced that Site C was needed on the given timeline. Furthermore, although the Panel concluded that the greenhouse gas emissions of Site C would be low relative to alternatives, external analysis suggests that this finding was likely reached in error, also due to lack of time and resources. In addition, the adequacy of consultation with First Nations was never independently evaluated, first, because Site C was exempted from BCUC review, and second because the Joint Review

Panel’s terms of reference expressly prohibited the Panel from commenting on the matter. The 199

terms of reference similarly prohibited the Panel from commenting on whether Site C would be a violation of Treaty 8, and that question was never officially considered. On the environmental impacts, one topic that they were able to address in detail and with apparent confidence, the

Panel’s findings regarding significant effects were of unprecedented magnitude. In short, the low costs and low greenhouse gas emissions that ostensibly justify the project are unverified (the costs) and questionable at best (the low emissions), while the effects that they justify are deliberately unexamined (on Treaty Rights) and extraordinarily serious (on the environment).

Nevertheless, both the provincial and federal governments authorized Site C, without detailed public justification.

It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the main function of the process was not to inform a thoughtful decision, but to validate the proponents’ desired outcome, one that would benefit some members of the population at the expense of others. Whereas the Bennett dam proponents could overlook the rights and needs of First Nations and other valley residents, and the environment, forty-some years later, BC Hydro and the provincial government were hyper- aware of them and provided a process that advertised their concern in every detail, without actually affecting the broad outlines of the project.

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Songs and System Optimizers: Asymmetrical Communication at the Public Hearings

7.1 Joint Review Panel Hearings, Site C Environmental Assessment, Day 1

The ballroom of the Pomeroy Hotel was much like other hotel ballrooms, remarkable only for the small drift of snow that would accumulate just inside the exit door over the course of the hearings. A stiff Christmas tree stood in one corner, and an even stiffer, faker wreath hung on one wall. A table on a low raised dais at one end held laptops, microphones, and heavy-duty coffee mugs for the three Review Panel members. To the Panel’s right were seated what the

Chair would later refer to as the “Hydro Horde” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014k, 202)36—two rows of men and women, almost all of them in dark suits. In the front row were the speakers during the current session, while the backbenchers busied themselves on laptops and Blackberries. The local audience were easy to distinguish from the Hydro and Panel teams by their fleece jackets and jeans, cowboy hats and baseball caps; they nearly filled the ballroom on the first day.

The Panel Chair opened the proceedings, setting a warm and personal tone, explaining the purpose of the Panel, and the way things would work, and explaining that speakers would not be under oath, but that all were expected to give “good” information. After welcoming remarks from the City of Fort St John came the sound of drumming, and the rustling of a hundred or more people processing into the room. They circled behind the rows of chairs and filed up the central aisle toward the Panel’s dais. These were the representatives of several member First

Nations of the Treaty 8 Tribal Association, along with members of the Peace Valley Environment

Association, and other non-Indigenous opponents of Site C. I smelled smoked leather as they

36 Spelling in transcript is “Hydro Hoard.” 201

passed; many were dressed in beaded leather jackets and moccasins or mukluks. Each person held something in their hands. It took several minutes for all to approach. They stood in the aisle as the Treaty 8 Tribal Chief introduced herself as a descendant of one of the Chiefs who signed

Treaty Eight, and called on an elder for an opening prayer” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 21). She would later point out that sweetgrass smudging was “restricted” inside the building

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014k, 205).

A former Chief of the Doig River First Nation then introduced the Doig River drummers, explaining that

“We want to be able to set the tone about what we feel is important to us. And these songs that we’re singing come from (Aboriginal word spoken). It’s a song of the Dreamers that goes back thousands and thousands of years and [our] evidence of our ancestors over 10,500 years at the Charlie Lake Cave proves that our ancestors have been here forever, dreaming about a better life and quality for the people, so we’re going to sing some songs in order to set that stage” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 22).

One by one, the Chiefs of Halfway River, Doig River, West Moberly, Saulteau, and Prophet

River First Nations welcomed the Panel to Treaty 8, Dane-zaa territory. The West Moberly Chief held a carved wooden fish. A Councillor for the Saulteau First Nation urged the Panel to “listen with your heart as well as your minds.”

Before Hydro could speak, the former Doig Chief, had “just one more thing.” Regarding the “very important issues” to be discussed, “we want to show it to you symbolically.” He asked

“all the people to come forth with some of their sacred objects that they think is important and put it in front of [the Panel] so that they can see the truth of what we want to talk about with regards to this hearing” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 25). Each brought forward the item they had been holding and placed it at the feet of the Panel: photographs of ancestors, wooden carvings, animal pelts, jars of jam, apples, feathers, a pumpkin, a map of the territory, a sheaf of wheat,

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and printed values taken from the Dane-Zaa Code of Honour (Treaty 8 First Nations (T8FNs)

Community Assessment Team, 2012, 38), such as “Always Show Respect for Someone Who Does

Good Things,” “When Out in Nature Always Leave As Is,” and “ Know Who You Are Through

Practising Your Culture, Stories and Songs.” The former Chief concluded, “This is the cultural feast of issues that hasn’t been talked about to your Environmental Assessment. And while you are here, these are the things that we want to talk about” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 25).

Figure 7-1: Sacred Objects at the Joint Review Panel Hearings (Author photo)

After lunch came the session on Need, Purpose, and Alternatives (for Site C), and BC

Hydro’s Director of Resource Planning outlined BC Hydro’s planning process. The first step is to compare the “load forecast” (predicted future electricity needs) with “available supply side resources” (generating capability), to determine if there is a shortfall, and what resources are needed and when. Step 2 is to “determine and characterize the resource options that are economically and technically feasible” to cover the shortfall. The various options are considered from “financial, technical, environmental, and economic development” perspectives, based on

“expert studies, project experience, and public input.” Next, BC Hydro identifies, “key risks and

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uncertainties;” these include higher demand or lower conservation than predicted, regulatory developments and energy market conditions. (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 86-91).

The fourth step is to analyze various combinations, or “portfolios” of “viable resource options.”

As the Director explained,

BC Hydro develops portfolios using a third-party model called system optimizer. This model selects an optimal combination and timing of resource options to meet customer demand at the lowest present value cost for a given set of input assumptions. The input assumptions include available resource options and capabilities, the need for new resources, market prices, and trade with the neighbouring electricity markets. System optimizer simulates the operation of the system over the 30-year analysis period. Its present value cost calculations reflect the timing of new resources, operation of the resources selected, and the market trade of surplus energy. The analysis undertaken through system optimizer is called portfolio present value analysis. (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 91).

The fifth step is simply to make a choice, and, as the Executive Vice-President for Site C explained: “… Site C has a present value advantage over alternative portfolios over a broad range of scenarios,” because it provides “firm, dependable, dispatchable,” energy, and can be

“varied in response to our customers’ needs” unlike run-of-river and wind power; thus the conclusion that Site C “provides the best combination of financial, technical, economic development in environmental attributes” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 95).

*****

7.2 Introduction

The Joint Review Panel hearings offered an opportunity for Site C proponents and opponents to present and hear information and opinions about the project in a public forum. At these hearings, the opposing parties, spearheaded by BC Hydro on the pro-side and non-expert valley residents, including First Nations and landowners, on the anti-Site C side, effectively spoke two different languages, exemplified by the Doig River Drummers’ introductory songs

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and BC Hydro’s description of their planning process. Their language reflected their different relationships to the Peace River valley, and more generally their views of the environment and the human role in it. Local anti-Site C activists felt a personal attachment to the issue of Site C, and their personal, locally grounded communication connected them and their families to specific locations. Non-resident institutional representatives’ demeanour, in contrast, was business-like and impersonal. Abstract, deductive arguments, “objective” analysis, and passive linguistic constructions distanced them from the potential effects of the project.

These differences in worldview, position, and discourse were consequential in the decision-making process. In addition to their incisive rebuttals of the EIS, Site C opponents made emotional appeals on behalf of their beloved valley, based on their status as residents and stewards, and drew authority from their own experience. BC Hydro representatives, on the other hand, drew credibility from their detachment, from rationalistic discourse and scientific analysis that implicitly claimed to be value-free. In this chapter, I will contrast Site C opponents’ heartfelt presentation style with BC Hydro’s bureaucratic comportment and reliance on technical procedures such as System Optimizer. I will show that this detached stance not only marginalized the views of participants who do not “speak the language” of bureaucracy and science, but that in concealing value assumptions and making Site C and its impacts appear inevitable, it constituted cultural violence.

7.3 The Public Hearings

The Joint Review Panel hearings took place between December 9, 2013 and January 23,

2014 with a two-week break over Christmas. Hearings were held primarily in the Peace River

Regional District, with sessions in the communities of Fort St John, Hudson’s Hope, Dawson

Creek, Chetwynd and the First Nations of Halfway River, Blueberry River, Doig River, West 205

Moberly and Saulteau. There were also sessions outside the PRRD in McLeod Lake First Nation,

Prince George, and the downstream town of Peace River, Alberta. Sessions were held in hotels in the larger towns, and wherever there was space in the smaller ones, usually a community centre.

The Consultation and Environmental Assessment process generated a massive volume of publicly available documentation, amounting to tens of thousands more pages than I could possibly analyze in detail, including hearing transcripts, written submissions, consultation records, and the EIS itself. I have focused primarily on the oral interactions during the hearings, particularly those hearings when I was personally present (approximately half the sessions), including several General sessions (when members of the public presented their “overall views”), several Topic-Specific sessions (reserved for technical presentations by “interested parties and experts who possess specialized knowledge” (CEAA 2013)), and two Community sessions at West Moberly and Saulteau First Nations. I have also drawn on written documents where necessary to clarify or fill out the conversations during the hearings.

At each session, the Chair began with a brief introduction, setting out the ground rules.

BC Hydro delivered an opening statement, followed by presentations from the public or interested parties. There were opportunities for participants to question BC Hydro, and vice- versa, throughout the session, via the Panel Chair. Legal counsel delivered BC Hydro’s questions to expert consultants. BC Hydro did not pose questions to members of the public; however, the

Panel occasionally asked questions of clarification and further information to lay speakers.

The Chair several times reproved the audience for applauding, which he found inappropriate because it might sway the Panel. Nor were placards and protest signs permitted. This explained why a participant from Saulteau wore a giant pair of silver joke-shop sunglasses with “Peace

Out” and “Treaty Rights” (on different days) painted across the lenses; she told me that she had 206

had to leave her sign outside, but no one could make her take off her sunglasses (Fieldnotes,

12/17/2013, 1/17/2014). Presentations were limited to 20 minutes, but individuals could present at multiple sessions, and many local Site C activists did so, “following [the Panel] around, like these people that follow rock stars, eh?” as one interviewee put it (Interviewee 28, 10/23/2014).

Many people attended the sessions almost every day, to listen, if not to present, sometimes travelling a couple of hundred kilometres over winter roads in harsh weather. Some told me that they had not expected to attend as often as they did but found they could not stay away.

7.4 Different Languages

These committed attendees felt an immediate personal connection to the issue of Site C, and to the decision-making process. They expressed that connection in emotional, evocative presentations that drew on their individual perspectives and personal experience. Such personal appeals had no pro-Site C counterparts, however. At the public hearing sessions I attended, only two private citizens advocated for the project on their own behalf, rather than that of an interested organization (such as the Independent Contractors’ Association or the New Car

Dealers’ Association). Non-Indigenous Site C supporters, and any Indigenous individuals who may have supported the project (see Chapter 4) stayed away. Moreover, all but two members of the public who spoke against Site C (at any of the hearings), were residents of the Peace Region or the outlying areas where hearings were held. In contrast, the BC Hydro team, the Panel, and expert consultants flew in as necessary.

Thus, interactions at the hearings, and throughout the Site C controversy, were asymmetrical, with advocacy on the no-Site-C-side led by largely non-expert local residents who felt directly threatened by the project—First Nations leaders and members, non-Indigenous individuals, and the grassroots Peace Valley Environment Association—and on the yes-side by 207

non-resident representatives of BC Hydro, a Crown corporation. For BC Hydro representatives—technical experts, managers, legal counsel, consultants—the fate of the project may have had implications for their jobs and financial futures, but not directly for their homes and communities. They interacted in the process in a professional or employment capacity; in local terms, they were “riding for the brand” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014). Thus, they communicated and operated within certain parameters as representatives of an institution.

Much of the hearings consisted of technical discussion between experts, as expert consultants and government technical staff critiqued the Environmental Impact Statement and methodology, in language mirroring BC Hydro’s. Government representatives, however, did not oppose the project outright, and expert consultants were hired by First Nations, landowners, and concerned citizens who were the primary drivers of the opposition. I have avoided commenting on expert discussions as much as possible and focused on the interactions between BC Hydro and the public, the central disputants.

7.4.1 “A Deep Connection with This Land”

When speaking at the public hearings, members of the public introduced themselves stressing their personal and family or cultural roots in the area, combined with their professional qualifications where relevant. One presentation at Saulteau for example, began:

“My origin is simple. The land is my mother, and I am her child. Child of Cree, Iroquois, and Dane-zaa, Beaver…From time immemorial, Saulteau First Nations are the primary stakeholders to the land and to the resources, and we know the environment the best. Our people have connections to the land. We have long-term basis to this land. We are rooted in and informed by our traditional lifestyles, and we will continue to respect Mother Earth…Our relationship to the environment is to know about edible and medicinal plants, animals and adaptation to climate change” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 96).

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A planner and agrologist who had “made his home” in the Peace River region for more than 30 years, explained that although he had spent time elsewhere, having “[drunk] the waters of the Peace as the Dane-Zaa legend says, and you’ll return,” he returned as land use advisor to the Treaty 8 First Nations and, later, consultant. Thus, his ties to the Peace and its people were both personal and professional, so: “I did a personal submission, advocating for my personal relationship to the community at Saulteau First Nations, and my work with them. As a grandfather to five Saulteau children, I feel a strong commitment to speak my truth…”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014l, 370).

Professional biologists, a chemist, guide-outfitters, and agrologists who opposed Site C, similarly drew on their relevant qualifications while presenting on a personal basis. One speaker addressed the Panel, for example, “both as a person who's lived on the land here as lifetime member of the Rod and Gun Club and as a biologist with extensive experience here”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 201). First Nations employees and members with relevant qualifications and extensive experience with environmental assessments also could and sometimes did speak technical jargon, challenging BC Hydro’s methodology and conclusions; nevertheless, their presentations were also often emotional and personal. Site C opponents spoke from their individual perspectives, and, although they made use of factual and expert knowledge—their deep familiarity with the Site C project materials, sometimes supplemented with academic expertise—they most often drew on their own observations and referred to the implications of the project for their own lives.

Speakers attempting to persuade the Panel to deny Site C approval presented evocative photos of the valley and extolled its beauty. A long-time resident of Hudson’s Hope, for example, compared it to “a mythical landscape, a diamond in the rough [with] the way the river 209

is threaded throughout numerous islands, the colour and the light playing on it with the Rocky

Mountains for a backdrop and the lush green growth, the snow in the winter” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013f, 63). Speakers stressed their family connections to the land, often telling stories illustrating family ties, life on the land, and the waning abundance of the region. They described growing up in the Valley, and the memories of their elders that Valley places brought up. Not infrequently, their voices broke as they spoke about the possibility of losing their homes, and about what industry of all kinds, including hydro, had done to the valley, and the further damage it might do.

Their bond was not just with “the land” in general, but specifically with the Peace River

Valley with its unique biological attributes and cultural histories. As the Treaty 8Tribal Chief told the Panel, the Peace River Valley is “a sacred place for our people,” “an important gathering place,” and the location of “archaeological and heritage sites, spiritual sites, grave sites, a variety of wildlife sites and species, home to rare and medicinal plants my people still rely on, and a place to practice our Treaty rights.” Moreover, as many people, including the Tribal Chief emphasized, “it is our grocery store. It is our pharmacy and it is our pantry.” For the Dane Zaa people, “there’s a huge cultural, spiritual, and emotional attachment to that valley. It is the core area and the heartland of our people and territory, and we are not going away…from this Peace region” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 83).

Many shared the sentiments of a speaker at West Moberly, who declared: “I’ve lived all my life here, just like my mother and my grandparents and my great-grandparents. This is the only place that I know. This is my home” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 154). Over and over First

Nations speakers showed pictures and referred to their ancestors, and where they grew up, and where they liked to hunt, fish, or gather. Their stories included specific and concrete details, expressing how they spent time together on the land. A Saulteau descendant of several 210

generations of trappers and guides shared her earliest memories of trips to the family trap line, when

“uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, parents, all squeezed into our cabin... There were[also] trips to summer camps, up and down the Moberly River, south to Tumbler Ridge area, along the Peace River at Halfway River, the Del Rio, Carbon Lake, everywhere. I remember my grandparents would take us kids hunting and berry picking. And we would set off walking for miles. I remember one time grandpa shot a porcupine along the road. He made a fire right there, threw the porcupine on the flames to burn the quills, and we ate right there and set up day camp. The wild tea grew everywhere in abundance. My grandma would just reach over, pick it, and we would drink tea and relax with a full belly…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 153).

Their stories integrated memories, relationships, love of the land, fear for the future, and sometimes humour.

“I imagine how the majestic landscape will be changed... I remember one time my son and I were driving home from Fort St. John one evening, it was at the Watson Bird Sanctuary that we see -- … a river rat. Unfortunately we'd seen it too late and ended up driving over it. We were driving a car, which was really low to the ground, and we both lifted our feet. We had quite the laugh afterwards. It wasn't as though he could reach us in the car… I have this story shared by my grandparent, aunts, uncles and parents. The memories of numerous camping trips, fishing trips, canoeing, hiking and hunting, the countless road trips and still never ceases to amaze me, the beauty and breathtaking views of God's country” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 155).

Non-Indigenous speakers, like Indigenous presenters, linked spending time in the Peace

Valley with family relationships. They spoke of “[raising] my children camping in the Valley, canoeing down the river and hiking in the hills” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 62), of a son’s “special secret fishing hole…where he would spend hours,” and their hopes that new families can enjoy the valley in the same way (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 153).

Those who were multi-generational residents of the valley emphasized the fact, and how they came to live where they do, stressing their ties with their ancestors and their pioneering labour in the valley and the region. A descendant of an early settler explained that “The valley is 211

a special place in many ways, and as a result the families tend to stay here” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013e, 36). Four generations of her family had lived on the farm, while “the fifth generation are often brought out to visit and we hope will live there themselves one day” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013e, 31). Other multi-generational families on family homesteads also had “their own deep- rooted attachments similar to ours… [and] appreciation for the farmland, the river, the forest, the grassland hills and all the other features that are blended together in this unique valley”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 36).

Some speakers drew authority from their long residence in the valley and their physical interactions with the land. One valley resident, hearing consultants begin their presentations by outlining their qualifications, declared that he had grown up in the valley, “and my credentials are I've had my hands in the dirt and my body in the water and my boat on the river….”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 167). Similarly, a farmer explained that her expertise regarding the impacts of Site C was based on “extensive knowledge and understanding of this area,” derived from generations of life and work at Bear Flat:

“… I have covered [the land] on horseback, Jeep, Suburban, motorcycle, three- wheeler, four-wheeler, Ranger, and many four-by-four trucks. I've cut firewood, fixed endless miles of fence… bailed hay, fed cows, helped with calving, chased cows, operated a swather, ran tractors, picked rocks, and, et cetera. I have been to all four corners of this expansive area over 40 years. Through all of this, I have observed the natural working of the Bear Flat area” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 155).

For many First Nations’ speakers, interaction with the land was explicitly linked to identity (as discussed in the previous chapter); according to a descendant of several generations of trappers and guides at Saulteau, “Our testimony to the utilization of the land, fishing, trapping, guiding, hunting and gathering and utilizing our Native plants has always and will always be a part of who we are and where we come from” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 153). The Tribal Chief 212

explained to the Panel that demonstrating “how important our relationship to the land is” was a way to “articulate to you who we are as a people. We are connected to the land,” she continued,

“We are of the land... Our people have a deep connection with this land because our ancestors told the stories and legends that are connected to that valley. And, most importantly, because our ancestral remains lay in that valley…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014k, 207).

Several speakers described the Peace Valley and surrounding area as “our church,” and a sacred site (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 206; 2013g, 160; 2013h, 124), in part because the grave of one of the original signers of Treaty 8 and an island used for vision quests are located there

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 57). An elder explained that “the people have a spiritual connection to the land, especially the First Nations people…and if we lose that, others that I am teaching about our spiritual ways will also lose that opportunity to find their spiritual paths in this world”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 129).

Both Indigenous people and non-Indigenous residents valued the spiritual comfort the valley provided in their daily lives. A West Moberly member explained that

“sometimes my work is so long, and when I come home, that's my time to unwind. And I drive through that valley, and it's just—I could almost drive it with my eyes closed; although, you wouldn't want to because it's so beautiful. It really gives me a sense of peace when I'm coming home through that valley… I'd hate to—I'd hate to lose that drive” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 155).

According to a Hudson’s Hope resident, “Times are tough in the world, in countries, in communities, institutions that are in crisis. But in this valley, your spirit can be soothed when you live here. And that's why many people like to live here” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 182).

Some spoke out against Site C, not only because inundating the valley would be a loss for them personally, but because of the obligation they felt to speak up not only for “my children, my great grandchildren, and my great great grandchildren I have yet to see” (CEAA/BCEAO, 213

2013h, 206), but for the animals and the land itself. As a West Moberly member explained, “my elders have always told me that, as First Nations people, we must speak for the land, and we must speak for the animals because nobody else does” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 102). A Saulteau member suggested that she had received a message to convey to the Panel: although moose were generally rare enough that “… tonight we can't even feed you guys moose because… we can't find any moose anywhere that's close by,” the morning of the hearing, “before I came here, there was a moose in my backyard. You know, probably coming to say you better speak up on my behalf” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 212). Non-Indigenous people also spoke up for the land and the animals. Residents emphasized the valley’s role in wildlife survival, especially during harsh winter conditions, and argued that it should be preserved as a wildlife refuge (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013i, 53). A Director of the Peace River Regional District even titled his slide show “Voice for the Peace” because “I think the river is unable to speak for itself, and we are asking you, the

Panel, to undertake this role” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 200).

Opposition to Site C, as expressed at the JRP hearings, grew directly from opponents’ embodied and spiritual connection to the Peace River Valley, and more than one speaker suggested that the Panel should cultivate their own connection with the valley (even if briefly), before making their decision. Panel members should stop at a lookout point along the Fort St

John-Hudson’s Hope Highway, suggested a Saulteau participant, “for a good half hour, and you look at the land, what you guys are going to destroy” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 224). A West

Moberly councillor, meanwhile, implied that if the Panel did truly look at the valley, it would be very difficult to make the decision to approve Site C: “I look at the valley and think what kind of mind would want to put this under water? What kind of heart wants to destroy what sustains us?”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 181). 214

7.4.2 Presumed Objectivity

Anti-Site C speakers occasionally paused to hold back tears, or leveled accusations against BC Hydro, for example that they were “wilfully blind” to the consequences of Site C

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 18), and one or two threatened to take up arms against the project

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 2013h), but overall their presentations were considered and restrained.

At the same time, there was a noticeable undercurrent of passionate emotion within the constraints of the hearing process. This controlled emotionality of community members contrasted with the BC Hydro team’s even, professional demeanour.37 Unlike other speakers, who emphasized their personal and professional backgrounds extensively, members of the BC

Hydro team were introduced simply by name and position with the company. Although they occasionally referred to relevant previous background, with very rare exceptions, they did not share personal information or perspectives. While speakers from the public emerged as individual personalities, and the Panel Chair sometimes even joked briefly back and forth with them, this was less noticeable with BC Hydro representatives. A Site C activist even observed that Hydro representatives “didn’t laugh at the laughing points and didn’t cry at the crying points, [when] everyone else was” (Fieldnotes, 2/3/2014).

Site C opponents’ presentations were multi-sensory, integrating photos and meaningful objects, drumming and singing, along with spoken words. They were locally rooted, based not only on generic environmental values, but on a bond with a particular place. Though speakers

37 The contrast in communicative tone between BC Hydro and Indigenous opponents of Site C also applied to written documents. An analysis of Site C Indigenous consultation documents from 2011 to 2014 revealed that Indigenous groups conveyed “frustration and pessimism” in comments ranging from “violent” to “considerate” (directing their frustration toward the process rather than the people involved), while BC Hydro “maintained a business-like tone throughout the consultation process” (Dubrule, Patriquin, & Hood, 2018b, 7). 215

connected their own fears to broader public concerns, they drew primarily on personal knowledge—both physical and spiritual. BC Hydro’s arguments, on the other hand, were abstract and deductive, framed in terms of the needs of the province in general, rather than particular groups or individuals, reflecting their mandate as “the public entity responsible for keeping the lights on for our customers” and ensuring a supply of “electricity to meet the needs of our residential, commercial, and industrial customers now and in the years ahead”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 59). Dispassionate focus on that goal, and evaluation of various ways to meet it, one representative explained, was not evidence of being “ignorant and heartless,” or failing to “understand that every action that we take has some impacts,” but a legislated obligation under the Act,38 and one that the organization takes “very seriously. We do not have a choice to say we're not going to serve a certain amount of customers because we don't have sufficient power…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014c, 63).

Moreover, the public hearings constituted a bureaucratic, quasi-legal, space, where it would have been contrary to professional norms for BC Hydro staff, as representatives of a

Crown corporation, and indeed for the Panel members and expert consultants, to display overt emotion. The ideal bureaucratic organization, as defined by Max Weber, is founded on “a form of legal-rational” rather than “traditional or personal modes of authority” (Berg-schlosser &

Morlino, 2013, 1); this “entails an impersonal rule,” whereby decisions are based on “abstract rules” and technical expertise rather than personal whim (Byrne & Bevir, 2013, 3; Berg- schlosser & Morlino, 2013). Separation of personal feelings from performance of professional responsibilities is associated with this adherence to rules.

38 Presumably the “Hydro and Power Authority Act, [RSBC 1996] CHAPTER 212,”(n.d.) 216

At its best, a strong bureaucratic culture limits corruption and provides transparency and accountability; its irritating features may be to some extent unavoidable in the pursuit of values including “fairness, justice and equality in the treatment of citizens” (Du Gay, 2000, 2). On the other hand, reliance on “impersonal authority and legal rationality,” along with technical competence may not only lead to charges that “faceless,” “unfeeling,” bureaucrats lack compassion or empathy (Berg-schlosser & Morlino, 2013, 5), but may also exclude participants without bureaucratic background or training.

The bureaucratic style, similar to what Conley and O’Barr term a “rule orientation” in legal contexts, is characterized by reference to “neutral principles” rather than “individual need or social worth” when dealing with interpersonal problems and legal matters, and is a learned skill, common in business, law, and other professions, but not necessarily acquired outside these contexts (1990, ix). BC Hydro representatives, expert consultants and lawyers, and, significantly, the Panel members, were more likely to have attained this skill than the general public and

Indigenous participants.

For Bourdieu, such an orientation goes beyond consciously practiced competence to become a habitus, “mental and corporeal schemata of perceptions, appreciations, and action,”

(Swartz, 1997, 101); it is internalized as a marker of competence and credibility in these social

“fields.” Openly showing emotion is contrary to this habitus. In public processes, the common association of emotion with irrationality may even create “a power imbalance between people considered rational and those deemed to be acting out of emotion” (Docherty, 2001, 33) As feminist scholars have argued, to accuse marginalized people of “excessive emotionality” is to portray them as “out of control…over the imagined line of reasonableness,” and thereby to

“delegitimiz[e]…silence, and disempower them” (Satterfield, 2002, 13). Thus, although the way 217

they communicated likely seemed natural, not calculated, to BC Hydro representatives and other professionals at the hearings, participants who did not share this educational or occupational habitus, or who were emotional, may have felt—may have been, despite their own expertise and the Panel members’ good will—at a disadvantage when presenting in this bureaucratic space.

7.4.2.1 Actorless Communication

The presumption of objectivity in bureaucratic, as well as scientific, discourse may also veil assumptions, values and interests presented as universal, which are in fact highly partial.

Throughout the Site C hearings, the project’s local critics wore their values on their sleeves, so to speak: they saw land, animals, and past, present, and future generations of humans as deeply interconnected, they saw over-exploitation of the environment as a form of destruction, and they were open about their own interests in the outcome of the conflict. BC Hydro representatives, being human beings, were equally biased, but their biases were masked, hidden behind the flat affect discussed above, but also by their discourse and their technical analysis.

The opening remarks by BC Hydro’s Vice President for Site C, for example, illustrated the effect of discourse in simultaneously universalizing and depersonalizing the dam proposal.

The VP portrayed the project’s benefits in general terms, glossing over the very different and inequitable impacts of the project on First Nations peoples, local residents, workers, businesspeople, urban southerners, and many others. At the same time, her remarks erased the very human thought processes and choices that had narrowed the range of possible actions.

Reading from a prepared statement, the VP began by highlighting the contributions of hydro- electric power to British Columbia’s economic development, and placing Site C in that context:

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For decades, British Columbians have benefited from the hydroelectric dams and generating stations built from the 1960s to mid-'80s. These heritage assets deliver clean, reliable, affordable electricity to homes and businesses across the province… Now, more than 50 years later, we are preparing our facilities and our system to meet the needs of the generations that will follow. (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 44).

She outlined the “beneficial effects” of Site C in terms of the region and the entire province, and even federal environmental goals. Site C would provide

“10,000 direct jobs and 33,000 direct, indirect, and induced [jobs] through all stages of the project… Substantial economic and regional benefits, including a $3.2 billion increase to provincial GDP, regional employment and contracting opportunities, improvements to road and infrastructure, and new recreational opportunities” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 53).

In addition, Site C would “deliver power with very low emissions per unit of energy produced, helping to support both federal and provincial greenhouse gas reduction targets”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 54).

The Vice President’s description of the project planning and consultation process leading up to the public hearings was impersonal in that no individual actors appeared. Her language featured passive constructions—“baseline studies were initiated,” “A stage two report, including a recommendation to advance the project, was submitted” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 48)—and abstract subjects: “[the work of the technical advisory committees] led to the development of a comprehensive multi-year program to gather baseline information,” “the updated design formed the basis of the project description report” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 49, 50). She reserved active voice for actions that were less likely to provoke negative reactions: “BC Hydro initiated consultation and engagement,” “we established seven technical advisory committees,” “we respect the views of all participants” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 48, 49, 50).

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Whether calculated or not, the effect of this language was to de-emphasize BC Hydro’s agency and to distance actors from actions and the organization from the consequences of Site C;

The Vice President’s assessment of the impacts of the project was particularly detached:

“…a determination that a significant residual adverse effect is likely was made for four valued components: fish and fish habitat, wildlife resources, vegetation and ecological communities, and current use of land and resources for traditional purposes. For these and the other potential effects, we have proposed comprehensive mitigation measures, environmental management plans, and ongoing monitoring…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 53).

She did not elaborate on what a significant residual adverse effect actually constituted, or on how the valued components were defined, nor on how the determination was reached, or by whom.

(The process, though not the producers, is outlined in the EIS (BCH, 2013d, Vol. 2, 10-10), and will be touched on in the following chapter.) This actorless, actionless, victimless, dis-located characterization in terms of categories rather than specific places or species did not inspire vivid visualization of what Site C would really mean. It not only contrasted markedly with anti-Site C residents’ accounts of a landscape where living people’s interactions with ancestors and animals were at risk, but veiled the violence of the project BC Hydro was advocating. Like the use of a computer modeling program to evaluate energy portfolios, it implied that project decisions and their consequences were inevitable realities, not the results of human interpretations and individual actions.

7.4.2.2 Constructing Reality

BC Hydro presented its decision that additional electricity generating capability was necessary, and that Site C was the best way to achieve it, as the result of objective analysis.

Neuroscientific findings, however, suggest the impossibility of complete objectivity; since the capacity to reason cannot be separated from “bodily capacities such as perception and

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movement” there can be no disembodied or “uninvolved” knowledge (Lakoff & Johnson, 1999,

17, in M. Brigg, 2008, 147). Because scientific or technical information can only be gathered through “active perceptual systems” belonging to specific people with their own perspectives and in specific positions, the resulting knowledge, like all knowledge, is necessarily “situated”

(Haraway, 1988, 583). “Value assumptions, ontological commitments, and epistemological preferences are [therefore] built into any scientific study” (Docherty, 2001, 27), though these are not always apparent, either to the authors or the audience of such studies. In claiming objectivity,

BC Hydro’s analysis appropriated authority, sidelining concerns expressed in other modes while downplaying the potential impacts of the dam. If Site C was the best solution according to an impartial process, it could not be unjust and violent.

To evaluate possible electricity-generating options and to choose Site C, BC Hydro conducted a multi-step process, as quoted at the top of this chapter. Though the systematic analysis may appear reassuringly straightforward, even obvious, it was not as conclusive as it appeared; choices and judgements were required. As Merry cautions, efforts to quantify complex social realities disguise the “political considerations that shape the collection and presentation of data” (Merry, 2016, 20). In attempting to predict future needs in an unknown future world, and determining how best to meet them, BC Hydro created categories, attributes, and indicators; these efforts to make unpredictability and complexity workable were necessarily “subtly and even unconsciously shaped by assumptions, motivations, and concerns” of the analysts who created them. Given the implications of their efforts for the region (and beyond), the production and deployment of such quantifications, though rarely recognized as such, are a “form of power”

(Merry, 2016, 20, 5).

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The need for Site C was based on the on “load forecast,” or predicted future electricity needs. The 2012 load forecasting process involved consideration of external economic indicators

(such as GDP forecasts) and sector-specific outlook for residential, commercial and industrial power consumption (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 87). The process identified a “gap” between prospective need and supply within the next twenty years. Such a prediction of course incorporated many assumptions and unknowns, and numerous commentators disputed its reliability (for example, Hendriks, 2013; Hoffmann, 2013). A consultant for the PVEA challenged the premise that power rates would remain low, suggesting that some of the projected demand might be due to “a very serious market failure in the pricing of electricity”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 216), that is, that consumers would use less power if it were more expensive. The consultant also argued that eliminating the Burrard Thermal natural-gas-fired generating station outside Vancouver as a power source, as required by the Clean Energy Act, had created the need for Site C: a great deal of additional power production capacity would be required to replace the back-up capacity Burrard Thermal had offered. Otherwise, “the need is unnecessary,” he concluded (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 230).39 Going farther, several hearing participants declared that they had lived without electricity before, and would willingly do so again, if it meant Site C would not be built (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 182; 2013h, 214), a possibility the load forecast likely did not consider. Although BC Hydro intended to use conservation and efficiency to meet “a large percentage” of the demand gap (BCH, 2013e, Vol 1,

39 The BC government instructed BC Hydro to phase out Burrard Thermal in 2007 as part of its clean energy policy (Dusyk, 2016, 85). The consultant argued that though extensive use of Burrard Thermal would not be desirable because of its emissions, it provided a back-up in case renewable energy sources were temporarily inadequate as a result of high consumption (on very cold days) or restricted capacity due to environmental or market factors (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a).

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5-18), their analysis did assume that demand would continue to grow; the idea of limiting economic growth to respect ecological limits was apparently not contemplated.40

So when BC Hydro “determine[d] and characterize[d]” the potential electricity generating methods that were “economically and technically feasible” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a,

88), the possibilities had already been constricted by assumptions regarding economic growth, by legislation, policy, and even history. Hughes’ (1983) notion of “technological momentum” in infrastructure suggests that "available technologies, previous decisions that determined the characteristics and limitations of the electrical grid, institutional structures…access to capital, professional norms…forms of expertise” combine to create electrical systems with “considerable inertia” that become more and more difficult to redirect as they become more entrenched (in

Church, Dusyk, Evenden, & Forest, 2009. 98). In BC, Dusyk argues, not only existing hydroelectric infrastructure, but provincial policy, as well as the institutional expertise and culture that developed along with it, have resulted in “significant momentum in the direction of large-scale hydroelectricity as both the norm and the reality” (Church et al., 2009, 98). Although

BC’s clean energy policy began in 2007 with ambitious greenhouse gas reduction and energy conservation commitments, “the legacy of the past is strong,” and by 2014 “the clean energy storyline” had become “a tool to expand both large hydroelectricity and natural gas extraction”

(Dusyk, 2016, 77). This reframing required not only glossing over the environmental and social costs of hydro dams, but also reclassifying natural gas as a clean fuel when used to fuel natural gas liquification, though still proscribed for domestic power generation. Such formulations

40 The load forecast and project justification for Site C presented in the EIS is a brief summary of BC Hydro’s 2012 Draft Integrated Resource Plan, which is publicly available, but not on record as part of the Site C EA (Raphals, 2013). Due to lack of detail in the EIS, it is impossible to determine what proportion of the projected growth is attributed purely to population growth, and what proportion to economic growth. 223

illustrate the “political nature of the term clean” (Dusyk, 2016, 91). Implicit and explicit assumptions affected the outcome of the Site C calculation from the first stages.

Once possible generation “resources” such as hydro, wind, biomass and others had been screened in or out, System Optimizer, a “deterministic linear optimization model,” selected

“optimal resource expansion sequence[s] (referred to as a portfolio) of generation and transmission additions for a given set of input assumptions” (BCH, 2013e, Vol 1, 5-62); that is, it combined these generation resources as advantageously as possible (in financial terms). After

System Optimizer had done its work, a second model, known as “Multi-Attributes Portfolio

Analysis,” compared the projects based on a set of Technical, Environmental, Financial, and

Economic Development “attributes” (BCH, 2013e, Vol 1, 5-65, 5-38). Environmental attributes, for example, under the category “land,” include “high priority species count” and “remoteness,” which classifies potentially affected land as “wilderness,” “remote,” “rural,” or “urban,” based on the density of “linear disturbance” per square kilometre (BCH 2013e, Vol 1, 5-43). Such

Environmental attributes were chosen because they were “appropriate for provincial scale comparison,” “science-based” and “defensible,” “measurable in a quantity-based comparison,”

“representative of relevant biophysical resources,” and “based on available data” (BCH, 2013e,

Vol 1, 5-42). The EIS does not disclose, however, who chose these attributes, or which possible attributes they left out of the analysis. To whom, or to what, were the selected “biophysical resources” “relevant?” How (well) did the chosen indicators represent them? Nor does the EIS acknowledge that the concept of “resources” itself presupposes a very different worldview than one that considers a “known, nurturing landscape full of sentient beings” (Westman, 2013, 118).

In the final project selection stage, portfolio attributes were summarized in a matrix (not included in the EIS), an exercise that required “some judgment … to reduce the full analysis 224

down to a condensed level,” but made the “relative impacts” of the various portfolios easy to grasp (BCH, 2013e, Vol 1, 6-65). It is not obvious, and the EIS does not explain, however, how these relative impacts were then weighted in making a decision. For example, even within the environmental parameters, choosing the most desirable (or least undesirable) project meant comparing incommensurable impacts— local air emissions versus land footprint versus greenhouse gas emissions, for example. Trading off environmental attributes against financial or technical attributes was even more fraught. Not to mention that, as a Saulteau representative pointed out, the “huge social and cultural impacts” Site C would cause are “very hard to put into a graph or a chart” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 206). Site C might be more cost effective and reliable than “intermittent resources,” such as wind, which only blows some of the time

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 95), but as a Review Panelist questioned, where do the “aspects of the real impact on people, whether…negative or positive… fit in the system that you’ve used? How do you weigh these two things that are for people very important?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a,

330).

BC Hydro’s answer: Site C would provide more construction jobs and a greater contribution to provincial GDP than other portfolios. Moreover, environmentally speaking, while

Site C “may have a larger land and freshwater footprint,” it would, (according to BC Hydro), produce less air pollution and fewer greenhouse gases than portfolios that included combustion;41 in addition, Site C’s large land footprint, rather than a pure loss, would be a “conversion of land from terrestrial use to an aquatic reservoir” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 331). Thus, Site C’s “mix

41 See Chapter 6.3.1 for discussion of Site C’s greenhouse gas emission calculations, and Hendriks & Bakker (2016) for a counter-analysis of greenhouse gas emissions from the various portfolios 225

on both the environmental attributes and the economic development attributes and significant benefits to rate payers from a financial perspective,” made it the “preferred alternative.”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 331).

As Merry might comment, such analysis based on numerical and quantitative measures may appear “unambiguous,” on the surface, but “interpretations creep into the final product at each step;” therefore, “the technical is always political” (Merry, 2016, 20). The foundation for the “need” for Site C, the load forecast, was an educated guess not simply about the future

(Westman, 2013), but about an energy future which had great political significance for the project proponent (BC Hydro as agent of the provincial government), and a future over which it had significant influence. The analysis could not escape political and worldview assumptions, for example about what clean energy is and how much it should cost. Also embedded within it were assumptions about economic health and the sacrifices it warrants—an emphasis on growth of jobs and the money economy, rather than the ability to live off the land. It reflected a view of the environment, not for example, as a world of relatives, but as a world of resources from which humans stand apart, a world of elements that can be broken down, compared, and traded off.

The depersonalized, technical jargon describing System Optimizer and Multi-Attributes

Portfolio Analysis deflected attention from these assumptions, suggesting that their calculations unproblematically represented a simple, unquestionable reality. The worldviewing human beings who constructed these programs’ algorithms, and carried out other aspects of the Environmental

Assessment, however, disappeared in the process of “turning terrains into a set of facts” (Fiske,

2017, 63). Emphasis on “certain kinds of ‘objective’ knowledge…reifie[d] the information in the

EIA as neutral” (Fiske, 2017, 64) although, like the observations and conclusions of Peace

Valley residents, it was both the product and the source of worldmaking. 226

The popular belief that scientific processes can produce “an objective rational, politically neutral body of knowledge that presents a single coherent understanding of reality” means that scientifically based decisions “command acceptance” (Ozawa, 2019, 6). Yet this positivist view of science ignores the social construction of all types of knowledge, and may elevate science to the most, if not the only, valid way of comprehending the world, deprecating other understandings and ways of knowing. A consultant complained that during the Site C EA, as in others, material produced by the proponent was accepted as “fact,” while evidence from other participants was dismissed as “what people say” (Fieldnotes, 7/24/2014; also reported by Fox &

Winnitoy, 2017). Westman concurs that in oilsands EIAs, “privileging scientific knowledge” allows “community ‘perspectives’” to be disregarded rather than taken seriously as the legitimate

“knowledge and concerns” of affected Indigenous people (Westman, 2013, 114).

Furthermore, topics that are not measurable or concrete confound positivist science, and

EIAs tend to neglect cultural and spiritual matters (Westman, 2013). A consultant for the T8TA observed that despite requirements in its guidelines the Site C EIS did not “substantively,” or

“meaningfully” address “intangible cultural heritage resources”42 (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 68).

Yet many of the most profound impacts of a project like Site C are intangible, and an EIA is seriously incomplete if it fails to take into account the ways that environmental changes impinge on the cultural and sacred ways that affected people interact with the environment (Dunstan,

2012).

42 According to UNESCO, “Intangible cultural heritage includes oral traditions, performing arts, social practices, rituals, festive events, knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe or the knowledge and skills to produce traditional crafts” (https://ich.unesco.org/doc/src/01851-EN.pdf, p. 8). 227

The constructions of reality presented in EIAs, as inputs into decision-making processes, have material repercussions (Westman, 2013, 113). How, for example, were the technical analyses and discourse regarding Site C reflected in the final decision regarding the project? The

Panel’s comportment demonstrated their mastery of bureaucratic habitus, and the Panel Chair, an economic geographer, in particular, showed proficiency in energy economics, pointedly quizzing

BC Hydro on its energy forecast calculations (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 96-119). Being able to understand, and speak, technical jargon, however, did not prevent the Panel from appreciating what local residents and First Nations were trying to convey. In its Report, the Panel reported having “heard repeatedly” that the Peace River and its valley “are unique,” and “’a special place’,” and that First Nations had “demonstrated their strong cultural attachment to this large river environment” (JRP, 2014, 102, 250). The Panel also noted that non-Indigenous residents

“presented a strong social attachment to the valley and a sense of belonging to the landscape”

(JRP, 2014, 250). The Panel characterized the affected stretch of river as “highly historical” and concluded that the loss of “cultural places…for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people” would be of “high magnitude and…irreversible” (JRP, 2014, 238).

As explained in the previous chapter, however, both the provincial and federal governments determined that the public benefits of the project outweighed these impacts. In a prototypical manifestation of cultural violence, presenting the pro-Site C decision as objective, and the result of a thorough, technical expert report helped governments to justify it. A federal

Environment Minister’s statement on the Site C approval, for example, stressed that the

“Government is committed to making environmental assessment decisions based on the best available scientific evidence…” and that the process had “provided the scientific and technical expertise…to enable an informed decision by both governments” (Office of the Minister of the 228

Environment, 2014), while provincial Energy Minister Bill Bennett defended his government’s approval of the project without a regulatory review by the BC Utilities Commission, saying that

“Site C has been studied to death” (J. Hunter, 2015).

7.5 Conclusion

Nothing in this discussion is intended to suggest that Site C opponents did not bring forward rational and cogent arguments, nor to deny the value of rigorous scientific research. In recent years, not only Site C critics but environmentalists and social activists across the continent have upheld the importance of rational policy decisions based on sound scientific evidence, most visibly at the March for Science, held in multiple cities on April 22, 2017.43 Both lay and expert

Site C opponents offered robust criticism of the Site C EIS, questioning the science on its own terms.44 Rationality and science-based decision-making are not harmful in themselves; what is pernicious is a claim to universal objectivity via a detached, impersonal, rationalistic style of discourse, and the failure to recognize technical limitations and the situatedness of knowledge, along with the devaluation of other modes of knowing. Not everything important is subject to measurement or strictly logical reasoning.

While both BC Hydro’s deductive, and dispassionate style, and Site C opponents’ personal, inductive, and emotional advocacy have potential value in public decision-making, they did not meet on equal terms. As I will discuss in Chapter 9, BC Hydro brought more resources to the situation: money, human resources, and political power due to the backing of the provincial government. More subtly, however, Site C opponents’ and BC Hydro’s

43 “What do we want? Evidence-based decision-making! When do we want it? After peer-review!” went the slogan (Yang, 2017). 44 See Chapter 9.3.1 for discussion of the quality of science in environmental assessment. 229

communicative styles had different effects and were differently valued. The bureaucratic style

BC Hydro representatives exhibited (along with, to various extents, other bureaucrats, the Panel, and expert consultants), is a learned skill, acquired in particular educational and occupational contexts, not accessible to all, and more highly valued in policy-making. Furthermore, the attempt to remove human bias through computerized and technical analysis and the appeal to

“universal” goods such as economic growth and decision-making is not as value-free as it may appear. Economic growth is not always a universal good; it may not simply land unevenly, but benefit some at the expense of others; one example is the “heritage assets that deliver clean, reliable, affordable electricity to homes and businesses across the province,” but not (as noted in

Chapter 5) to Tsay Keh Dene and Kwadacha people whose homes were flooded by the WAC

Bennett Dam in the late 1960s, and who depended on diesel generators for their electricity until at least 2017 (S. Cox, 2018, 84).

If proceedings follow a “system of logic,” which claims “strict neutrality,” but is actually accessible [and logical] only to educated elites, those who have mastered that logic maintain authority effectively but imperceptibly (Conley & O’Barr, 1990, 80). By setting itself up as neutral, and other styles as partial, “objective” bureaucratic or scientific discourse defuses dissent. If the official advocates of Site C impartially represent the universal good, the project can be made to seem self-evidently right, and the concerns of opponents can be dismissed as minority or “special interests.” Discursive mechanisms that created the appearance of objectivity thus operated as cultural violence to legitimize a project that seemed destructive, even wrong, when described in personal, everyday language.

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Can’t See the Valley for the Valued Components: Cumulative

Effects, Impact Mitigation and Compensation in Contention

Sitting on a porch by the Peace River in the gentle June sun, a valley resident broke off mid- sentence to point out an eagle on the opposite bank, roosting in one of several trees it always chose because they overlooked a fishing hole. “So it’s actually not only resting, it’s spying up a place…for its next meal. [If] you clear cut that bank—see, there’s a fish, he just went down for a fish, see? —you not only take away those trees, you take away his roosting area. So we’ve been approached by Hydro, are there places that you could put in nesting platforms? For the eagles.

Well sure, you could put up a couple telephone poles and put a nesting platform on it, but you can’t replace what we just saw there, a perching tree over a fishing hole, the whole combination of things, and so that whole sequence would be impossible to mitigate” (Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014).

*****

8.1 Introduction

The discourse of BC Hydro representatives, First Nations’ community members, and the general public, (as well as expert consultants and government employees), at the Site C public hearings exposed a tension between a focus on the details of the project’s potential impacts and a concern with the overall effects in context. This opposition reflected broader, contrasting perspectives: the environment as an assembly of components, versus land-water-animals-plants- humans as an interdependent system or whole. Union of BC Indian Chiefs Grand Chief Stewart

Phillip characterized the controversy over Site C as a “classic land use conflict” between

“indigenous values and the indigenous perspective” and the “Western… notion” of “the land [as]

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a collection of commodities that can and should be taken to market” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g,

256), (although the non-Indigenous participants protesting this “Western notion” belied a strict dichotomy) .

Friction between the opposing viewpoints was particularly evident in the way that environmental impacts were conceptualized, as well as during discussions of cumulative impacts and mitigation and compensation measures. For BC Hydro, Site C’s impacts, and the project itself, could be compartmentalized, while Site C opponents saw the project’s consequences as reverberating through a unified socio-environmental system. Though both analytical and holistic approaches to knowledge and decision-making have their uses, once again, the two sides contended over reality on unequal terms. Not only did the official narrative put “alternative” views on the defensive, but the idea that the project’s effects could be dissociated was an instance of cultural violence that minimized their gravity. Breaking the outcomes down into individual impacts for which technical solutions could be provided, converted the question of

Site C from a political to a technical one, even as it masked the full extent of harm to people and the environment, ultimately making the project easier to justify and approve.

In worldview conflicts, where reality must be negotiated, underlying the competition over incompatible interests are struggles to control stories or narratives, “the discursive structures in which conflicts are constructed and transformed” (Cobb & Rifkin, 1991, 51). The “power to

‘name’ a problem,” for Blechman et al., is the “ultimate form of power,” because the naming of the problem “inevitably” affects the construction and unfolding of the process (2000, 26). Thus in conflict resolution, the first party to present their case creates a “frame narrative,” that constructs “the semantic and discursive space on which all subsequent speakers must stand,” while the second party must respond in terms that “logically connect with the world created by 232

the frame narrative”(Cobb, 1993, 250, in Docherty, 2001, 66; Docherty, 2001, 66). A study of community mediation, for example, found that the majority of settlements were based on the dominant narrative established by the first party to speak. In other words, in eighty percent of cases, the second speaker’s “story” was “colonized by the first or dominant story.” Such stories, therefore, though they claim only to “represent[]” the world, in fact contribute to “constructing” it (Cobb & Rifkin, 1991, 60).

The need to reshape alternative stories to relate to the frame narrative puts their tellers at a disadvantage (Docherty, 2001, 67). Those who “make claims…about the world as a sacred, living being,” for example, may have to “twist what they want to say” to conform to a narrative that only recognizes “actors who hold discrete, quantifiable, instrumental interests” (M. C.

Campbell & Docherty, 2004, 773). The Environmental Assessment process, for example, is founded on thinking that sees the environment in terms of the function of individual elements rather than in terms of ecological relationships, and separates environmental impacts from cultural, spiritual, social, and economic consequences. This is the frame narrative, the terms in which the project is proposed and adjudicated; participants who oppose it are handicapped by having to explain themselves and present their values and arguments either in or against these default terms. Thus, Site C opponents persistently challenged the notion that the project’s impacts could be split up, isolated from those of other projects, and mitigated or compensated for through technical fixes, but were unsuccessful in their protest.

8.2 Values and Valued Components

Environmental Assessments take place in a regulatory context that divides social- environmental systems into separate areas of responsibility. Indigenous concerns, and human health, for instance, are addressed by separate Ministries/Departments, and separately from 233

environmental issues. Jurisdiction over environmental affairs is further subdivided: at the time of the hearings, the BC Ministry of the Environment, the BC Ministry of Forests, Lands, and

Natural Resource Operations (FLNRO) and Environment Canada, and Fisheries and Oceans

Canada, as well as the National Energy Board, the BC Oil and Gas Commission, and the BC

Ministry of Energy and Mines jointly regulated environmental matters (Government of British

Columbia, n.d.-a; Government of Canada, 2020), dividing their activities according to a bureaucratic, rather than ecosystemic, logic. For example, approximately 200 species of migratory bird in the Peace Region fall under the Migratory Birds Convention Act, which

(among other Acts) guides Environment Canada; Environment Canada is concerned only with these migratory “federal birds” and not the numerous “other birds that are not federal” that occur in the region (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 32). Various animals discussed at the hearings, such as bats, caribou, and moose are also provincial concerns. In addition, although the federal government has a “no net loss” policy for wetlands, the “vast majority” of wetlands in BC are

“provincial wetlands;” Environment Canada protects only the “very small piece of the landscape” that makes up “federal wetlands on federal land” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 33, 126) .

These regulatory bodies generally take a component-based approach to conservation.

Federal wildlife protection measures such as the Species at Risk Act (SARA) (Government of

Canada, 2016), and the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC)

(COSEWIC Secretariat, 2019) for instance, focus on the protection of individual endangered or threatened species, rather than ecosystems. Although a Habitat Stewardship Program exists to support species at risk (or to prevent additional species from becoming at risk) (Government of

Canada, 2021), this is a means to an end rather than an end in itself. Furthermore, the provisions of SARA only apply to the one percent of land in BC under federal jurisdiction (such as national 234

parks) and provincial endangered species legislation does not exist in BC (S. Cox, 2018, 171).

The BC Wildlife Act does protect migratory birds, among other species, but its approach can be equally fragmentary; it is against provincial law to disturb active migratory birds’ nests, for example, but perfectly permissible to clearcut their forest habitat, including nesting trees, as soon as the young have flown (S. Cox, 2018, 47).

In keeping with this component-based outlook, the Environmental Assessment process centres on Valued Components (VCs), or “Valued Ecosystem Components” (VECs) in federal terminology. VCs, in the case of Site C, are “aspects of the Project’s biophysical and human setting that are considered important by BC Hydro, Aboriginal groups, the public, the scientific community, and government agencies,” and that fall under five “pillars:” “environmental, economic, social, heritage and health” (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2013d, 24). To select these VCs, BC Hydro generated a long-list from the “interests and concerns raised by government agencies, Aboriginal groups, and the public,” as well as input from CEAA and the

BCEAO. As the project proponent, BC Hydro then selected the final list of twenty-four VCs which might be affected by Site C (BCH, 2013d, 24).45,46 Once the list of VCs was finalized, BC

Hydro assessed potential effects on each VC due to the dam, and considered the possibility of

45 These were: Fish and Fish Habitat; Vegetation and Ecological Communities; Wildlife Resources; Greenhouse Gases; Local Government Revenue; Labour Market; Regional Economic Development; Current Use of lands and Resources for Traditional Purposes; Agriculture; Forestry; Oil, Gas and Energy; Minerals and Aggregate; Harvest of Fish and Wildlife Resources; Outdoor Recreation and Tourism; Navigation; Visual Resources; Population and Demographics; Housing; Community Infrastructure and Services; Transportation; Heritage Resources; and Human Health (BCH, 2013d, 29).

46 Members of the Treaty 8 First Nations identified and prioritized their own set of Valued Components: 1. Meaningful practice of Treaty rights; 2. Protection and promotion of culture; 3. Meaningful governance and stewardship role for the T8FNs, including meaningful redress of past infringements; 4. Equitable access to education and training opportunities; 5. Equity and engagement in the wage economy; and 6. Healthy communities, including community function and dysfunction, social services, physical infrastructure and housing.

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avoiding or mitigating them. Any “residual” effects (those that cannot be mitigated), were

“evaluated for significance” (BCH, 2013d, 24). “Significance,” though not defined either in provincial or federal legislation, was determined by BC Hydro based on “objective characterization of five criteria:” “frequency,” “reversibility,” “context,” “probability” and “level of confidence,” along with guidance from BCEAO and CEAA (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, 10-10).47

As mentioned in the previous chapter, “determinations of significance” were made for four VCs: Fish and Fish Habitat, Wildlife Resources, Vegetation and Ecological Communities, and Current Use of Land and Resources for Traditional Purposes (BCH, 2013d, 34). In the case of Wildlife Resources, for example, potential effects on numerous species included “Habitat

Alteration and Fragmentation,” “Disturbance and Displacement,” and “Mortality;” however, a determination of significance was only made for certain species of migratory birds considered at risk.48 Impacts on other species, even if considerable, were not considered significant because

“proposed mitigation will be effective or the populations are not at risk” (BCH, 2013d, 47f).

The concept of VCs arose in Canada in the early 1980s as a way to “provide focus” for

Environmental Assessments, which until then had attempted to consider all environmental values, spreading the examination so “broadly and thinly” that the results were unhelpful for assessing any of the potential effects (Duinker & Greig, 2006, 153). VCs also make a healthy ecosystem measurable and “workable.” The BC government, for one, considers VCs “as surrogate indicators for a healthy environment with diverse and resilient ecosystems and processes” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 137). The status of the western toad, for example, as a

47 See Chapter 9.3.1 for discussion of the potential problems with a system in which the presence or absence of significant adverse effects is determined by consultants who are paid by project proponents.

48 Canada, Cape May, and Bay-breasted Warblers, Yellow Rail and Nelson’s Sparrow 236

FLNRO representative explained at the hearings, may serve as an indicator of the resilience, not only of other amphibians, but of wetlands overall (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 137).49

While this focus helps to “concentrate limited resources on the biggest issues,” the use of

VECs/VCs in practice often results in over-simplification and is vulnerable to manipulation by project proponents hoping to avoid finding significant adverse effects (Atlin & Gibson, 2017,

39). And abstracting ecosystems into “measurable, contingent values” (Peyton, 2017, 97) may render them “legible” in Scott’s (Scott, 1998) terms, and facilitate planning, but the result may be

“inconsistent with most basic ecological knowledge” (Peyton, 2017, 97).

Certainly, project critics vigorously resisted the specific criteria-based assessment, protesting that the focus on measurement of individual impacts missed the overall effects of the project. “You gotta remember,” said an interviewee with in-depth experience of EA processes, commenting on the VCs, “people look at the valley, they don’t look at it individually. It’s the valley. It’s all viewed together. And sometimes these EA processes chop it all up, and it doesn’t give you the big picture of it all together, right, you start losing the importance of it”

(Interviewee 31, 7/23/2015, speaker’s emphasis).

Site C critics insisted on seeing the valley as an eco-system, with elements in relationship.

One speaker challenged the focus of many participants (including Site C opponents), on impacts on large ungulates: “you know, it’s fine and dandy to mention elk, moose and the mule deer.

However,” she continued, “There’s bear. There’s a chicken. And there’s rabbits and everything

49FLNRO commented, however, that not all the indicator species chosen by BC Hydro were “appropriate representatives of a group,” while Environment Canada commented that “using species at risk as surrogates does not represent all ecosystem functions of the Peace River valley” (JRP, 2014, 74).

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else that you name, even right down to the mice…Right down to the mice” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2014f, 117). Another speaker pointed out that the Site C reservoir would inundate not only some, but all, of the giant cottonwood flats along the river, with systemic repercussions. While many studies had shown “the importance of those cottonwood trees for a lot of different species…[the studies] are all done in isolation of each other,” and, according to the speaker, “don’t…capture the importance of all those cottonwood trees disappearing” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 199, emphasis added). And a Saulteau member emphasized the wider regional implications of Site C, saying that by flooding areas that serve as both pathways and calving grounds for ungulates,

“you’re not just destroying that specific area where the lake is going to sit over. You’re destroying, you know, thousands of miles around it, because of the cycle of the animals and that, how they move around” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 230). The scope of the EA process was too limited to recognize the full meaning of Site C’s potential effects on the wider environment, according to a Hudson’s Hope resident, who maintained that:

“I know we're here to talk about BC Hydro and the impact of Site C, but the real conversation is so much bigger. Site C can't be isolated from the larger environment, the environment of the country of Canada itself. Just because this is a BC project, it's not limited to BC and the complex impact it will have. You have to take a wholistic look” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 171).

8.3 Cumulative Impacts

8.3.1 Unprecedented Development

Site C opponents placed the project and its potential impacts not only in regional environmental context, but also in the context of the intensive regional development in the area.

They connected the dam to past, present and future development projects, calling for more proactive assessment of regional development as a whole. In contrast, BC Hydro’s view of Site

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C as a discrete entity, relatively unconnected with other events and processes in the area, discounted the damage the project would cause.

Valley residents, firsthand witnesses to this development, stressed its extent and pace. A landowner from Bear Flat, for one, reported that she had ten oil and gas wells within a two- kilometre radius of her house, (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 161), while a West Moberly Councillor outlined the dramatic changes he had witnessed in little over a decade: “When I started on council in 2002, there were no operating pulp mills, no mines, there was no shale gas development… and no wind farms...” By the time of the hearings, in 2013, there were two working pulp mills, and “very important hunting areas” had been logged, even though “our forest” had been “devastated by the pine beetle.” “At least six” coal mines had been approved, and several more were in the process of environmental assessment. Shale gas development, which did not exist in 2002, has grown to the point that, “by itself, this development is overwhelming to our land base, and brings with it a myriad of environmental issues such as water and air pollution.” A formerly reliable moose hunting spot is now a “huge industrial zone,” and serious concern regarding the extirpation of lake trout in Moberly Lake has also arisen. In addition, the Moberly caribou herd was formerly a “critical food supply” and “reportedly stable” at about 300 in 2002, but now only 25 individuals survived (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 79).

Even a sixteen-year-old had noticed changes in her short lifetime: “I remember one time we went out hunting, and we saw 16 moose in one night’s hunt…And now we see 16 different industry types…And no moose. We’re lucky if we see the tail end of a moose” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013h, 137). One recent arrival compared the scene in the Peace Region unfavourably to her former home of Sudbury, Ontario, which itself is so “desolate” that it “really looks like Mars”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 170). Furthermore, the West Moberly Chief pointed out that the 239

extensive territory shown as already under development in a study presented at the hearings (P.

G. Lee & Hanneman, 2012; CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 127) did not include reasonably foreseeable future initiatives such as shale gas development. For example, a single gas company, of perhaps

30 operating in the territory, with rights to 300 square miles of land, had communicated their hopes of developing 4,000 shale gas wells, none of which would require an Environmental

Impact Assessment, he reported (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 97).

Hearing participants who opposed Site C often did not separate it from development that has already happened and is already happening in the valley, including the existing WAC

Bennett and Peace Canyon dams, as well as oil and gas and other developments. A West

Moberly elder’s comment exemplified the way Site C was enmeshed with other concerns:

“Overarching Mother Earth with pockets of many holes has caused disruption to the animals… How can I teach my future grandchildren how to make dry meat or how to make moccasins. We are facing dwindling of moose. Within our community of Saulteau First Nation, many moose were killed only to find the entire moose covered with cyst, blood that is not the colour of red. The smell is unbearable. Moose are eating and drinking from contaminant soils caused by flare pits and such that are not fenced in…The cumulative impacts, there is a great concern by Saulteau First Nation band members, the negative impacts by the industries who have no concern why no fencing is being placed around the flare pits. We sustain from wildlife. What this negative impact has done, it affects our needs… Our Treaty Rights may help us to get moose, but does not help us when moose is full of contaminants. Beaver never build a dam in the same place. They think in long-term. Why can't BC Hydro look in terms like the beaver and not build the dam at all. Cause and effects and disharmony to the land and people and wildlife will disrupt… with disharmony of our people. My recommendations to the panel is that what I would like to see is the flare pits to be fenced in, and this will cause less harm to our moose. Thank you.” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 275).

8.3.2 Cumulative Effects Assessment

The consequences of many development projects intermingled on the land and in the minds of valley residents. Hearing participants pointed out, however, out that the myriad projects

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are evaluated and regulated individually, with insufficient attention to their aggregate effects.

Project assessments, according to the West Moberly Chief, are done “under a microscope and there’s blinders on and nobody looks outside to see what’s happening over here or over there”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 97). Many therefore called for more deliberate official attention to

Cumulative Effects Assessment (CEA)50, defined in EA literature as “the process of systematically assessing impacts resulting from incremental, accumulating, and interacting

[environmental] stressors over space and time” (Noble, 2010, 4).

As a David Suzuki Foundation representative pointed out, in BC, various industries

“operate in isolation,” regulated by individual laws, such as the Forest and Range Practices Act, the Oil and Gas Activities Act, and the Mines Act, rather than an overarching legal framework that would address the cumulative effects of all industries (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 130). In addition, for major oil and gas projects, the National Energy Board requires a socio-economic and environmental effects assessment, but smaller facilities are permitted through the Oil and

Gas Commission, without such processes, so, as the Panel Chair quipped, “if you do 4,000 wells, one at a time, you get a pass, huh?” CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 23). Academic research reinforces these concerns; due to the emphasis on “project-by-project” evaluation, CEA in Canada is

“simply not working,” according to a University of Northern BC report (Noble, 2010, 3; see also

Atlin & Gibson, 2017).

Many Site C opponents conceded that meaningful cumulative impact evaluation was beyond the scope of individual project proponents, and called on the provincial government to carry out a strategic regional cumulative effects assessment, before any further projects,

50 Or Cumulative Impacts Assessment (CIA) 241

particularly any as large as Site C, were approved.51 Repeated requests to the province over decades for cumulative impact assessment fell on “deaf ears,” however, according to the West

Moberly chief (CEAA/BEAO, 2013g, 198; 2013e, 131; 2014e, 351). He believed that “they have gone far over the threshold of what’s ecologically sustainable around here,” and that authorities resisted further cumulative effects assessment because it would force them to “come to the conclusion that they can’t do any further on this” (i.e., sustainably carry out any further development) (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 198).

Though the Site C EIS did address cumulative effects, many commenters were unsatisfied with the assessment. As BC Hydro recognized in their closing submission, the major point of contention seemed to lie in the difference between a “regional” CEA and a “project- specific” CEA. “Some parties” found the CEA inadequate “either because the assessment did not encompass a large enough area, or go back far enough in time, or include all potential components of the natural and human environment, or include all other projects and activities…”

(BCH, 2014a, 40). In other words, Site C critics considered that the assessment circumscribed the project’s ramifications too narrowly.

BC Hydro clarified that it was required by legislation (CEAA 2012 and the specific EIS guidelines for Site C) to conduct a “project-specific cumulative effects assessment, to evaluate environmental impacts [including] any cumulative environmental effects that are likely to result from the designated project in combination with other physical activities that have been or will be carried out” (CEAA 2012, Section 19, 1(a) in BCH, 2013a). In practice, this meant identifying

51 Academic literature concurs that Cumulative Effects Assessment could be more effectively done by governments on a regional strategic basis than by individual proponents; however, this has rarely been done (Atlin & Gibson, 2017; Duinker & Greig, 2006; R. B. Gibson, 2012; Morgan, 2012; Noble, 2010). 242

the Valued Components to be assessed (as described above), determining on which VCs there would be significant residual impacts, then listing other specific, planned projects in the region, determining what their residual impacts would be on those same VCs, and checking for overlap.

For example, for Fish and Fish habitat, a list of other potential projects and activities located within the “Regional Assessment Area” for Site C was reviewed; of the numerous potential projects listed, two—the Dunvegan Hydroelectric Facility downstream on the Peace River, and the Montney Shale Gas Play52—were found within the Regional Assessment Area for Fish and

Fish Habitat. Based on the Dunvegan Project Assessment, this project would have significant residual effects on only three fish species, and only in its head pond area, which is 161 kilometres downstream from Site C; thus the residual effects of the two projects would not overlap. While the Montney Gas Play could cause “point source effects” on fish and fish habitat in tributaries to the Peace River “based on the limited interactions that natural gas exploration has with watercourses, it is anticipated that gas exploration would not interact with Site C residual effects. Therefore, there would be no cumulative effects” on the Valued Component

Fish and Fish Habitat (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2013e, Vol 2, 12-95) (a finding that the JRP disputed).53

The examination of cumulative effects on Wildlife Resources followed a similar

52 Not a specific project but an area of extensive shale gas exploration and extraction

53 The Joint Review Panel concluded that the combination of Site C’s effects with those of the WAC Bennett and Peace Canyon dams would result in a negative cumulative effect on fish “species abundance and population distribution” (JRP Report, 56). In addition, the assumption that gas exploration would not affect watercourses contradicts the findings of the Union of Concerned Scientists, which advises that the many potential environmental impacts of natural gas hydraulic fracturing include the use of “vast volumes” (tens of millions of gallons) of surface water per well, possibly straining ground and surface water supplies, and the risk of chemical contamination of rivers and lakes (Union of Concerned Scientists, 2014). 243

procedure. As noted above, Site C had been determined to have potential residual effects on wildlife in terms of Habitat Alteration and Fragmentation, Disturbance and Displacement, and

Mortality (though these were only considered potentially significant for migratory birds). Twenty projects and activities, including pipelines, wind farms, a coal mine, oil and gas activity, and forestry activity in the region would have the same general impacts on wildlife and their habitat; however, these were only considered cumulative effects if they “remove[d] suitable habitats or affect[ed] species that are the same as those affected by [Site C]” (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, 14-91).

The notion of a “project-specific cumulative effects assessment” struck some as an oxymoron, and indeed, this conception of cumulative effects as a “function of spatial overlap” in project impacts is more limited than the accepted academic definition, even if typical of

Environmental Impact Statements (Singh et al., 2020). BC Hydro argued, however, that as the proponent of a single project, they were neither required nor in a position to carry out the broader assessment that many hearing participants called for. They expressed an “intention to be a willing participant in a regional impact study in the Peace Region when one is conducted by government” (BCH, 2014a, 43), but until then, they made the limits of their organizational responsibility clear. Asked how BC Hydro would “tease out [its] obligation” to mitigate its own contributions to the cumulative effects that were undeniably occurring in the area, a representative responded: “We have identified and quantified what we think our effect on a habitat is” she explained, “and that is our portion… And our responsibility will be to act in accordance with our contribution… [that] can be reasonably certain to be caused by the project directly and in a known way” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 353).

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8.3.3 “There Was a Valley—Now There Isn’t”

BC Hydro’s overall view of cumulative effects seems to have been that while cumulative effects of development are occurring, Site C is not responsible for the impacts of other projects, so should not be judged based on those impacts. Site C opponents, however, held a contrasting view, which could be summed up as “there is already so much development, the land can’t take anymore.” “How much are we supposed to give?” the West Moberly Chief asked. “Nobody can tell us how much more the land can sustain… They just keep taking it.” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e,

89).

Connected to these differing conceptions of cumulative effects was the choice of baseline for assessment. As one of the Review Panelists put it, judging by her experience serving on 30 review panels, BC Hydro’s cumulative effects assessment for Site C was “extensive” in terms of listing everything “happening on the land,” but “when we say in French the sock hurts in the shoe…it’s that the two previous dams were not included” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014d, 273). To many participants, it seemed logical that an assessment of cumulative environmental effects would take the pre-industrial, (i.e., before the WAC Bennett dam), state of the valley as the starting point on which these cumulative environmental effects were felt. The valley would thus be seen as a substantially altered environment, even before the recent intensive development and the potential addition of Site C.

A BC Hydro representative explained, however, that the two existing dams were not included in the cumulative impacts assessment, because the assessment concerned only Site C, not the other dams, and “There are only two possible outcomes moving forward of this assessment: a future with Site C and a future without Site C.” BC Hydro did not try “go back in time and try to recreate the world as it existed before Bennett and then attempt to ascertain its 245

effect for two fundamental reasons: the exercise would be unreliable” due to a lack of information regarding the “pre-Bennett” conditions, and “the information could not be used to help us predict what the future would look like with Site C” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 17).

Instead, by agreement with the regulators and in conformity with the EIS guidelines, the EIS included a narrative (rather than quantitative) discussion of the environmental impacts of the existing dams (BCH, 2013e, Section 11.1). BC Hydro used the information that was available to understand the environmental changes caused by the WAC Bennett and Peace Canyon dams using the historical hydrological data, for example, to understand the current flow conditions and to predict how they might be altered by Site C (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 275).

BC Hydro argued that “it is necessarily the case that the state of the world today, the baseline conditions, are the net result of the natural changes and of the effects of all past projects and activities, including the construction and operation of the existing dams” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2014e, 17). The “existing condition of the valued components” is observable and measurable,

“And when we add on to that, the effects of the project, and in a sense, it's the first part of the cumulative effects assessment because we're looking at how the effects of the project will combine with all of the things that have happened to that valued component so far”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014d, 278).

A Review Panelist, skeptical, asked BC Hydro which “magical arguments” they had used to convince CEAA and the BCEAO to excuse them from including the two dams in their analysis, finding the lack-of-data argument unconvincing: “I mean, the Peace Canyon dam had the Environmental Impact Assessment done. The Bennett Dam—when you build a dam, you have data. I mean, even if it’s 1957, you would have data” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 198). A speaker at West Moberly also insisted that “we have done this work recently. This data does 246

exist,” and that a baseline that excludes the impacts of the previous dams is “scientifically inaccurate. It’s not defensible in the world of impact science anymore. It just isn’t”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g 195) . BC Hydro maintained, however, that their approach reflects long- standing practice and is consistent with regulatory guidance documents (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014d,

274, 276; 2014e, 19).

Many hearing participants objected to a cumulative impacts assessment that only looks forward from present conditions, because the impacts of earlier developments do not register as such, and the total extent of environmental impacts is underestimated. The West Moberly Chief explained that BC Hydro has “said that Site C is going to…[cause] a 16 percent loss of habitat possibly, but that’s thinking that there’s 100 percent habitat out there. And there’s not.” In reality, according to the Chief, because of existing impacts to the landscape, “that 16 percent is off of an already disturbed Peace” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 42). Regarding moose and their habitat, for example, as he explained, the “best moose habitat in the Peace is now under water with the WAC Bennett [dam] and the Williston Reservoir. So what we’re looking at is the second class of habitat” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 195). For some members of T8TA, leaving these past impacts out of the analysis also meant failing to acknowledge that their traditional activities had already been affected, and that Site C would worsen these effects (JRP, 2014, 114).

Overall, many Peace region residents took a more general, down-to-earth view of cumulative impact assessment, based on their own observations and a sense of what the land can bear. As Hudson’s Hope Mayor put it, “we don't profess of any expertise on cumulative impact, but we can just say that [before the Bennett and Peace Canyon dams] there was an upper Peace

Valley; now there isn't; there is a reservoir. There was the Peace Canyon and the …rapids. Now there isn't. Now there is a reservoir” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 284). The cumulative impacts 247

assessment provided by BC Hydro did not reflect the changes they had seen and the further changes they had anticipated. The Mayor continued:

“…the losses have been cumulative, and they've never been accounted for. There was abundant food-producing lands in the upper Peace, including the vegetable-producing alluvial flats. There was wildlife habitat and wildlife themselves. There was a forest resource. There was a mineral resource… All of that is uncatalogued and largely unknown, but we do know that the resources are gone. And Site C would compound the loss that has gone before. That little valley vegetable-producing land would be gone, much of the crucial birthing, nurturing, and wintering habitat [for ungulates] that is left would be gone. And so there is loss after loss. And the argument that somehow the slate is wiped clean after every dam so that you can start afresh just as though nothing had happened, and everything is now bound into the new baseline simply doesn't make sense to us” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 285).

For valley residents opposed to Site C, the WAC Bennett and Peace Canyon dam projects might be completed, but their effects were ongoing. While the BC Hydro cumulative effects assessment placed the two existing dams in the past, for many hearing participants they were a present and unsettled reality that informed their views on Site C. The West Moberly Chief, for example, called the Williston reservoir flooding “an ongoing impact that we have never had a resolve to” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 87). Another West Moberly speaker similarly considered

Site C part of the “same collective project” as the WAC Bennett dam, and argued that “it should be included as part of the 40-year development that [has] happened” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g,

46). More bluntly, a Saulteau speaker suggested that before “any kind of compensation talk” about Site C, “why don’t you pay for what you’ve stolen for those two dams that you already have. We never benefit one bit out of that” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 190). And a member of the

Blueberry River First Nation situated the project in even broader terms, explicitly linking Site C

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not only with the earlier dams,54 but with the larger context of colonial land appropriation, going back to the first arrival of Europeans and the signing of Treaty 8. Pointing out that, Site C aside, outstanding issues remain, he suggested that compensation to First Nations for loss of land use over more than a century would be complicated, if not incalculable:

How are you going to determine the loss over the decades before the Treaty was signed? We were Aboriginal owners of that land before the Treaty was signed. The Treaty was signed in 1899. The first white man came into this country [in]… 1780… So how is BC Hydro going to determine the compensation for the First Nations also of the land use that's being lost today for the last how many years? Even in the Williston Lake area, for example, do you guys have answers for those?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 73).

Still others connected Site C not only with past developments and their unresolved human and environmental costs, but also with future developments. In this view, the contribution of Site C to cumulative effects would be more than simply additive; by providing an additional source of “clean” energy, its construction might even facilitate further development, such as shale gas extraction. “Site C is not just the flooding of the valley. Site C opens the door to future developments,” as the West Moberly Chief put it, drawing on a widespread belief that Site C was intended to support the liquified natural gas export industry (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 87).

Yet BC Hydro’s assessment separated Site C from past developments, and, while it considered Site C’s impacts in combination with those of other potential developments, it largely viewed the project itself as self-contained. As described in Chapter 6, mention of Site C was

54 Although the Tsay Keh Dene and Kwadacha First Nations ultimately negotiated compensation for the effects of the Bennett dam, other First Nations still had outstanding claims or grievances. A Saulteau speaker said “We have BC Hydro claims that…have been sitting there for the past two dams, and they have been sitting there for the past 30 years. Why can't you guys, BC Hydro, settle these claims first before we even put this third dam in?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 219).

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conspicuously absent from the apology ceremony for the Bennett dam, and although BC Hydro engaged with affected First Nations regarding mitigation and avoidance of Site C’s potential impacts, and offered to negotiate Impact Benefit Agreements, this did not involve the previous dams. The process in place to “to deal with any grievance issues that are associated with that infrastructure,” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 74), was conducted by a different branch of BC Hydro and was not connected to the Site C negotiation process.

For Site C opponents, the assessment of Site C’s impacts provided by BC Hydro was temporally too restricted, as well as ecologically reductionist. They argued for investigating Site

C’s potential environmental and social impacts in systemic terms, and for considering the project in light of its relationship to other development initiatives: how it aggravated the unresolved abuses of the existing dams and how it might promote further industrial expansion. They stressed that development in the region was already meeting or exceeding ecological limits and causing socio-cultural consequences. BC Hydro’s contrasting, and narrower, definition of cumulative impacts, on the other hand, downplayed the magnitude of Site C’s potential effects. As Westman has pointed out for the Alberta oilsands, information in an EIS may be presented in such as way as to understate cumulative impacts to date on a given First Nation’s [or other] territory, for example by “taking advantage of soft data and inadequate models” and by including minimal historical background or projection regarding future development impacts (2006, 36). Thus, defining cumulative impacts as impacts of the project on specific Valued Components, that precisely overlap with the impacts of other upcoming projects on the same Valued Components, rather than as the total accumulation of environmental stressors over time, reduced the apparent negative environmental effects of the Site C, and allowed BC Hydro to disclaim responsibility for any impacts not solely caused by their project. In addition, BC Hydro’s own WAC Bennett 250

dam had some of the most extensive environmental repercussions of any project in the region; basing the cumulative impacts assessment on a post-Bennett starting point removed these impacts from the calculation, further reducing hydroelectricity’s apparent imprint.

Moreover, treating Site C as unrelated to previous contentious hydroelectric projects was in line with a common tendency in government policy: the assumption “that injustice is [only] historical,” rather than continuing. If “unjust events, policies, and laws” are in the past, they cannot be changed; therefore, any restitution can only be symbolic, not substantive, and there is no obligation to change present actions (Irlbacher-Fox, 2009, 33). Conceptually separating the previous dams from the current project—keeping the grievance and negotiation programs separate, apologizing for the “mistakes” of the WAC Bennett dam without acknowledging the parallels to Site C55—accomplished a similar, culturally violent, result: it placed injustice firmly in the past, and masked the violence of the current project. Overall, BC Hydro’s chosen cumulative effects assessment strategy de-emphasized environmental and social impacts, making

Site C easier to “sell.”

8.4 Mitigation and Compensation

An analytic (rather than holistic) perspective, that focuses on parts of a system rather than the system as a whole, also underlay the mitigation and compensation plans for Site C. For BC

Hydro, these were strategies to reduce the unavoidable negative consequences of a project that they defended as necessary and beneficial. Site C opponents, however, doubted that the plans would be feasible or effective, even if carried out in good faith, which they also doubted. More importantly, the very idea of mitigation and compensation also missed the point for those who

55 See Chapter 6 251

loved the valley as a whole and singular place. Further, the attention devoted to these technical measures distracted from fundamental questions of resource distribution and power that the possibility of Site C would otherwise prompt.

8.4.1 Avoidance, Mitigation, Compensation

BC Hydro’s opening presentation, also quoted in part in Chapter 7, stated that:

“… the potential adverse effects from the project can largely be mitigated through careful planning, comprehensive mitigation programs, and ongoing monitoring during construction and operations. However, a determination that a significant residual adverse effect is likely was made for four valued components… For these and the other potential effects, we have proposed comprehensive mitigation measures, environmental management plans, and ongoing monitoring, which are described in section 39 of the EIS…” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 52).

The suggestion that “comprehensive mitigation measures” would address significant residual effects, is illogical, strictly speaking, given that residual adverse effects are defined as “the effects of the Project that may remain after taking into account the implementation of mitigation measures, including compensation” (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, 10-9); however, the Vice President for

Site C later “acknowledged that there will be some effects that cannot be fully mitigated,” though

“there will also be significant benefits from the project for ratepayers, taxpayers, local and First

Nations communities” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 57). She went on to explain that “avoidance,”

“mitigation,” and “compensation” constitute a hierarchy. Once potential environmental or social effects of the project are determined, “… we look -- first, can we avoid that effect by changing something in design or how we're going to construct. If we can't do that, we look to mitigate the effect of the project. And in some cases there's not an ability to mitigate the effect, and therefore in some cases we will provide compensation” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 319).

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In practice, however, avoidance, mitigation and compensation are not clearly distinguished, either in the EIS or in the minds of local interviewees. Example mitigation measures listed in the EIS include construction, design and training elements falling toward the avoidance end of the spectrum, such as implementation of Environmental Protection and buffer zones; a layout that minimizes sedimentation, facilitates fish passage, and even incorporates fish habitat; and the provision of a sensitization program on Aboriginal culture, history and use of lands and resources for Site C workers. Falling nearer the middle of the spectrum, the notorious

“fish bus” or “trap and haul” facility (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, Appendix Q1; S. Cox, 2016; Hume,

2016) would reduce potential fish mortality by trapping, anaesthetizing and transporting fish by truck over the dam. Funding for a youth culture camp that fosters transmission of plant knowledge, and possible incorporation of Indigenous names when naming project components or sites are attempts to compensate for, rather than avoid, potential impacts. The overall mitigation plan also includes numerous monitoring programs, which would not change outcomes, but document impacts and allow affected people to be informed; a program to monitor methylmercury concentrations in fish and to communicate with the public regarding safe fish consumption limits is one example (BCH, 2013d, 84).

8.4.2 “Mitigation Where Feasible”

To many commenters, both lay and expert, these mitigation plans seemed incomplete, and in some cases unworkable, even specious. For Site C, Environment Canada, among others, suggested that the EIS contained inadequate information, for example regarding migratory bird populations, making it difficult to “to produce …science-based compensation mitigation measures…” and for Environment Canada “to be comfortable that the mitigation has served its purpose” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 94, 95). BC Hydro acknowledged the incompleteness of 253

information but emphasized that “detailed mitigation plans are of course to follow,” and that with some construction elements coming up to eight years after project approval, there was

“ample time” to develop detailed mitigation plans (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 98, 105).

The indeterminacy of the plans bothered some Site C critics, however. A self-described

“concerned citizen” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a 234) noted that many of the mitigation plans for three to four hundred “different types of sub mitigations” include the phrases “where appropriate, when appropriate, where practical, where feasible,” and wondered if “these escape clauses allow

Hydro to be free of any legal obligation or culpability for not following up?” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013a, 318). The seemingly prohibitive expense of some proposed mitigation measures heightened his concern that they might never really be implemented.

He had investigated the possible cost of one such measure, the “relocation of suitable soil in selected locations,” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 241) that is, preventing the loss of high-quality topsoil by transporting it out of the inundation zone. Based on conversations with a contractor, he estimated that to strip, load, and move a 20-centimetre depth of soil would cost between 50 and 100 thousand dollars per hectare; relocating the soil from even 1000 of the 5000 hectares of

Class 1 and 2 agricultural land potentially to be flooded would cost at minimum 50 million dollars, he calculated. At that price, the idea seemed so farfetched that the speaker questioned whether BC Hydro was serious about carrying it out: “We weren’t sure if this was real or not,” he said, “but it’s in their manual right here” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 241). BC Hydro’s response confirmed that the plan was conditional; according to a representative, “in our EIS we say we will consider that.” Because agricultural land quality is a function of climate as well as the soil itself, “in some cases [soil relocation] may be possible and practical… It may not be feasible or in [sic] all cases” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 320). 254

8.4.3 “Things You Just Can’t Mitigate”

The soil relocation program was a frequent target for Site C critics, for whom

“mitigation” was a “rather dirty word” (Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014). Holding up “probably the largest potato I’ve ever seen,” a local farmer told the Joint Review Panel: “This was grown organically in the Peace River Valley near Bear Flats. It weighs 4 pounds. That, you cannot duplicate. You cannot take that soil [from the valley bottom] and haul it up on top and try and grow them up there” because, as the BC Hydro VP had acknowledged, agricultural “capability is a combination of the climate and the soil,” that is, it depends not on one isolable component, but on elements in relationship (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 213). The loss of high-quality farmland would be absolute, as several other speakers also pointed out. The belief that “there are things you just can't mitigate…You can't mitigate the seasons, and you can't mitigate the habitat”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 70) was integral to opposition to Site C. Critics largely rejected mitigation and compensation as solutions to environmental and social impacts. Plans to compensate for intangible impacts, or to recreate natural elements or functions and even entire ecosystems artificially struck them as hubristic, empty promises.

In the first place, some harms were by nature not amenable to monetary reparation. For

“all of the people of the valley who have lived this threat” of land expropriation for Site C “for the past 55 years with no recognition or compensation for the silent, but omnipresent cloud over their lives,” no mitigation for emotional impacts was possible. “I do not see how this can be mitigated in any form” said the same farmer who displayed the giant potato (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013e, 199). First Nations’ speakers also asserted that any attempt to compensate financially for the permanent loss of their way of life was an arbitrary and meaningless exercise. As one speaker pointed out, while it might be possible to calculate lost revenue for a farmer, for First Nations, 255

whose occupation of the land goes back 10,000 years, “it’s hard to identify site-specific areas” on which to calculate compensation; the wildlife, the plants, the medicines, the birds, the fish, are

“priceless” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 189). Another speaker reminded listeners that the grave of a

“great warrior in the Gold rush days who was a leader for us,” would be inundated by Site C, and wondered, “How do you determine compensation for that?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f, 200). The cultural losses that would follow the loss of traditional territory simply could not be compensated for, according to the Saulteau chief:

“… I don't think there's enough money that could be raised anywhere on this planet that could compensate or bring back something that is going to be taken away or lost forever. You can't bring back a life. If something dies inside of you, you can't bring it back. Someone might stand up beside you and coach you, talk to you, mentor you, pray for you, but that's gone. How do we put a dollar figure on the loss of life, the loss of a language? …There is no monetary figure that will ever bring back what is taken away (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 185).

Site C critics also failed to be convinced by technical solutions to environmental impacts.

Just as rich topsoil lost much of its capability if removed from its climatic context, so other natural elements lost something vital in the process of being disassembled and recreated; this was sometimes a physical quality such as growing potential, but was often an impalpable, though equally essential, attribute. For example, if nesting platforms on poles were to be built to replace trees where eagles had nested, a Cree elder, tongue in cheek, asked who would tell the eagles that the platform was to be their new nest? (Fieldnotes, 7/11/2014). Though the nesting platform—a small flat space, high in the air—might fulfill the functions of a nesting tree from a certain human perspective, the elder implied something significant might be missing from an eagle’s point of view. This “something” might even be a spiritual, or divine, element, that affected plants, as well as eagles and humans; elders at both West Moberly and Saulteau predicted that medicinal plants grown in a nursery instead of the river valley would 256

“lose their healing potency because they’re not going to be growing in an environment where they were meant to grow by the Creator. Sure we can preserve those plants, but their strength will never be the same” (CEAA/BEAO, 2013g,187; see also 2013h, 94).

In sum, for opponents of Site C such as the West Moberly chief: “There’s no other spot in northeastern BC like this valley. You can’t create a new valley anywhere… we can enhance other areas, but they’ll all be substandard to what is presented in that valley” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013g 51).

8.4.4 “Replacing a Wetland with a Wetland That’s Already There”

Yet creating new ecosystems, such as wetlands, if not an entire valley, was a material part of the Site C mitigation program. According to the EIS, even after the application of mitigation measures, the project would cause the loss of up to 796 hectares of wetlands (BCH, 2013e, Vol

2, 13-18), a type of ecosystem that a BC government co-authored report described as “among the most biologically diverse, productive, and important life support systems on earth” (R.K. Cox &

Cullington, 2009). Although Site C would result in the loss of 20% of wetlands within the affected area, including 39% of riparian wetlands in the immediate project footprint, BC Hydro did not consider the effects significant, in part because wetland enhancement and re-creation programs would, they argued, reduce these effects (JRP, 2014, 60).

Enhancement and re-creation programs constituted what Environment Canada refers to as

“conservation allowances,” commonly known as “offsets.” Such offsets, as an Environment

Canada representative explained, are “conservation measures taken at one location to make up for adverse environmental effects that may occur somewhere else” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 34).

In this case, offsetting would involve enhancing, or recreating, or even simply protecting wetland elsewhere, to “compensate” for wetland that would be inundated by Site C. As a form of

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compensation, conservation allowances are inferior to avoidance and mitigation in the avoidance/mitigation/compensation hierarchy; they are only to be used in “desperate circumstances,” when avoidance and mitigation “absolutely…can’t be done” according to the same Environment Canada representative (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 34, 100).

BC Hydro proposed a wetland compensation plan consisting of either funding projects

“that might provide compensation for rare and sensitive habitats and protect occurrences of rare plants (e.g., wetlands)” if any such projects exist in the region, or identifying “areas that are under threat from development or in need of habitat enhancement,” and considering, where possible, the “purchase… and management of these lands to enhance or retain rare plant values”

(BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, 13-33). According to Environment Canada, doing this type of conservation well, however, requires knowing “what we’re actually compensating for…and there are a lot of uncertainties” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e. 99). Effort is required to decide “what’s achievable.”

Some places are unique, and it is open to question whether environments such as mud flats for shorebirds can be recreated; “there’s a lot of work to be done to decide what can be avoided, what can be mitigated,” and what must be offset (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 100). Wetlands are

“well recognized” as being “under threat” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 127). Evolving over hundreds of thousands of years, they are also recognized in the scientific literature as being very difficult to restore and recreating them from scratch “has a huge amount of uncertainty”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 107). To deal with this uncertainty, or the risk that compensation may or may not have the desired result, experts suggest “replacing” lost wetlands with other habitat at a ratio of at least 2:1, Environment Canada explained (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 108).

At the time of the hearings BC Hydro reported that they were actively seeking opportunities for wetland compensation and had “very recently acquired a very large parcel of 258

land because of its potential role for wetland enhancement and protection” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2014e, 24); they now had 12 hectares to compensate for the 796 hectares which would be subject to residual adverse effects. As a Panelist put it, “12 compared to 796—there’s a difference there”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 109). The first step of the wetlands compensation plan (following project approval) would be to inventory land threatened by development, or other candidate sites for habitat enhancement, that BC Hydro might purchase to use as offsets (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2,

13-33), thus at the time of the hearings it was by no means certain that making up that difference, even at a 1:1 ratio, was even a theoretical possibility—whether sufficient land suitable for the purpose, available for sale, not already occupied by industry, and not subject to flooding even existed in the region.56

In general, the producers of Environmental Impact Statements internationally tend to have “high confidence” in their proposed mitigation measures, but tend to assume, rather than verify, their effectiveness, and even to disregard research calling that effectiveness into question, according to conservation literature (Singh et al., 2020, 6). Ecological restoration technology specifically, though improving, is far from a “magic bullet that provides instant ecosystems of the desired type” (Menz, Dixon, & Hobbs, 2013 in Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017). Offset

56 The description of the wetlands offset program reads as follows:

“With the creation of [Site C], BC Hydro will fund a compensation program. This program would include: A survey of habitat enhancement projects in the [region] will be conducted to identify projects that might provide compensation for rare and sensitive habitats and protect occurrences of rare plants (e.g., wetlands). If suitable habitat enhancement projects can be found, BC Hydro will provide assistance (financial or in-kind) to the managing organization. The inventories will also identify areas that are under threat from development or in need of habitat enhancement. Where opportunities exist, BC Hydro will consider direct purchase–if offered for sale–and management of these lands to enhance or retain rare plant values. BC Hydro will also consider contributing to other protection options where direct purchase is not feasible” (BCH, 2013e, Vol. 2, 13-33). 259

theory lacks a “solid empirical foundation” according to some authors, (Curran, Hellweg, &

Beck, 2014, 631), and “many studies” have demonstrated that offsets usually “do not deliver what they promise” (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 24). Wetland processes, in particular, resemble human metabolism more than the operations of an engine, and the “faith” that they can be readily recreated “with sufficient money, engineering, heavy equipment and selection of materials,” is “optimistic and naïve” (Clare, Krogman, Foote, & Lemphers, 2011, 173, 174).

Even BC Hydro’s expectations of its own wetlands compensation plan seem rather lukewarm:

“Recommended mitigation measures will reduce but not fully mitigate the potential effects of the

Project. but [sic] effective where practicable” reads the entry under “Mitigation Effectiveness” for this mitigation measure (BCH, 2013e, Vol 2, 13-33).

Site C opponents however, questioned not only the efficacy, but the underlying assumptions and basic rationale of offsets. Such mitigation plans seemed presumptuous or arrogant to some Site C critics, reflecting what one interviewee called “a very, sort of, man-the- superior-being type attitude” (Interviewee 11, 6/16/2014). The belief that the non-human environment can be “enhanced,” “restored,” or even recreated by human endeavor, on which many mitigation plans depended, often distinguished Site C supporters from the project’s opponents, who believed that humans could only damage nature’s perfection, not repair or improve on it (see Chapter 4).

Furthermore, Site C critics found the concept of offsetting illogical. The recently purchased land was currently being used for cattle, but a portion of it was existing wetland, similar to the wetland that would be lost due to Site C; it contained “exceptional habitat for rare plants” and “six different rare plant species” were already present (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 27).

To address a farmer’s concern that converting this property to wetlands would result in a loss of 260

“productive farmland” a BC Hydro representative explained that they could “see if there’s some aid that could be done to restore maybe the edges [of the wetland], but to keep that wetland the way it is and not to expand it” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 26, 28). This solution, however, in preserving farmland, would fail to create any additional wetlands. The whole idea was something of a paradox, as an anti-Site C activist pointed out:

“The land that's proposed to replace the potential loss of the wetlands if Site C should go ahead is currently wetlands. So I do not see this as a replacement. However, how can we replace lost wetlands without reducing class 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 agricultural land or without taking land out of the [Agricultural Land Reserve]? We are not making any more land. How can we replace land without taking it from something else? And that's my question. And I don't know who could answer it” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 129).

The Panel Chairman acknowledged the point: “I'm not sure there is anything other than a rhetorical answer to a good question.” Looking to BC Hydro, he asked, “Anybody want to try that one?” and receiving no responses, concluded “I see no hands. I think you win”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014e, 129). The forum did not facilitate the necessary negotiation over reality

(Docherty, 2001); thus, the question “How can you replace a destroyed wetland with a wetland that’s already there?” as another valley resident phrased it, went unanswered (Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014).

The answer, perhaps, is that offsets only make sense on the assumption that development, not conservation, is the eventual default state for all land. Setting any land aside from development, or restoring previously developed land, therefore constitutes conservation according to this view; the concept of offsetting “implies acceptance of the inevitability of biodiversity loss” (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 28).

Conservation offsets are therefore not an ideologically neutral technological solution to the environmental impacts of development, but a “reframing of biodiversity and its 261

conservation” with political consequences (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 24). Offsetting is compatible with a view of an ecosystem as an assembly of substitutable components, not an integrated, interdependent whole: “Offsetting reframes nature in terms of isolated…units that can be simply defined, measured and exchanged across time and space to achieve equivalence between ecological losses and gains” (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 23). The process of capturing intricate, multiplex, and ever-evolving ecosystems in a usable metric is not only

“highly reductionist” (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 24), but detaches them from socio- cultural, as well as ecological, context. Offset calculations typically disregard the historical and cultural value of place, and community links with particular sites (Apostolopoulou & Adams,

2017). Compensation through offsetting implies that a “spiritual and religious connection to a sacred place” can be easily “sever[ed] and… ‘transport[ed]’” elsewhere (Ignace & Ignace, 2020).

The idea that an inundated wetland can simply be replaced with another wetland of the same classification elsewhere does not account for local attachments—personal, cultural, spiritual— with this wetland, that may go back years, or thousands of years; it severs “webs of accumulated cultural meaning” and ignores the possible presence of “the living, the unborn, and the animate deceased” in the landscape (Nixon, 2011, 17). As Indigenous participants at the Site C hearings repeatedly pointed out (see Chapter 5), and as anthropologists have documented, “stories, names, lessons, oral traditions” are embedded in places (Baker & Westman, 2018, 151; Basso, 1996;

Thornton, 2008); the knowledge that places hold cannot simply be transplanted or reconstituted

(Baker & Westman, 2018).

The intrinsic value of a significant place may even lie in the very fact that it is not a human creation. Philosopher Robert Elliot compares recreated ecosystems to forged works of art, arguing that for many people, the value of a “natural” place comes largely from its “distinctive, 262

natural genesis or origin” (Elliott, 1997, 79). He suggests that although natural and non-natural represent opposite ends of a spectrum, rather than a clear-cut dichotomy, a place that has evolved with relatively little human influence possesses a “relational property” derived from its history that an “intentional creation of human agents—a product of culture and technology” can never match (Elliott, 1997, 80). Put another way, “you don’t grow wetlands…The Creator creates wetlands,” as a Cree elder insisted (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 189). Although Indigenous as well as non-Indigenous people have managed and altered landscapes for their own purposes, Baker and Westman report that for First Nations elders they spoke with in Alberta, when land is so changed that it has “lost its spirit,” it cannot be reclaimed, even through healing ceremonies. “[I]t will not have the same inherent value; it is not the same place” (Baker and Westman, 2018, 151).

As the farmer quoted in Chapter 3 said (in a somewhat different context), however, “you either get it or you don’t. If you get it, I don’t have to explain it, and if you don’t I can’t”

(Desmog Canada, 2016). Not only is it inherently difficult to put into words the ineffable quality that distinguishes a nesting platform from an eagle’s home, a waterway where fish are bused over a dam from a free-flowing river, or a fabricated wetland from one that evolved over thousands of years, but advocates for the Peace Valley were swimming upstream, as it were, against the dominant framing of the environment and the human relationship to it. In challenging the perception of the environment as an assembly of substitutable components and the “narrative that assumes human beings have the right to reshape the natural world” (M. C. Campbell &

Docherty, 2004, 773), which are built into the environmental assessment process, they, like the second party to tell their story in a mediation process, were negotiating reality from a disadvantaged position. This competition over reality was largely unarticulated and unacknowledged, making its effects on the non-dominant viewpoint all the more potent. “Failing 263

to recognize the way offsetting reframes non-human nature and its conservation”—failing to recognize that it is a frame, and only one possibility among many— makes it unassailable and shuts out even the possibility of alternatives (Apostolopoulou & Adams, 2017, 28).

Furthermore, the focus on the efficacy (or lack of it) of mitigation and compensation measures distracted from larger questions of where, and on whom, impacts would fall.

Apostolopoulou and Adams point out that considering offsetting, for example, only as a technical issue “depoliticize[s]” environmental impacts (2017, 23). Li suggests that experts are supposed to conceive of problems in technical terms, and that “their claim to expertise depends on their capacity to diagnose problems in ways that match the kinds of solutions that fall within their repertoire,” yet these solutions typically sideline “political-economic considerations” (2007,

7). In Environmental Assessment processes, the scientific authority of consultants removes discussion from “the political arena and places it solidly in the technical arena,” such that debate is limited to technical matters, rather than “political, legal, or popular” protest (Westman, 2013,

114). Thus, technical knowledge may serve not only to evade political questions but, as discussed in the previous chapter, “to legitimate political decisions” (Merry, 2016, 20).

8.5 Panel Response and Government Decisions

Li insists, however, that the practice of “rendering contentious issues technical,” of framing an issue in terms amenable to technical resolution, is a “project,” rather than “a secure accomplishment.” Depoliticization is not always complete, and under the right conditions expert discourse may be “punctured” by “critical challenge” (2007, 7, 10f). As demonstrated above, cumulative effects assessment, mitigation, and compensation measures for Site C were certainly subject to popular challenge during the public hearings. Yet while Site C opponents’ alternative framings registered with the Panel, they did not prevail. 264

The Panel recognized the magnitude of development in the region and heard clearly that

First Nations in the area had already experienced “vast losses,” due to the Bennett Dam, and that other industrial activity was further limiting their use of land for traditional purposes (JRP, 2014,

119). BC Hydro had predicted that for three VCs, cumulative effects would be significant whether or not Site C proceeded, suggesting to the Panel that a development “threshold” has already been exceeded (JRP, 2014, 258). Regardless of the outcome on Site C, the Panel encouraged the provincial government to conduct a regional environmental assessment and to work with First Nations to develop a “comprehensive land use planning vision to prevent further unnecessary cumulative effects” (JRP, 2014, 261, 122) .

The Panel also expressed “reservations about the conventional wisdom on cumulative effects assessment,” (JRP, 2014, 6), seeing a need for improvement and standardization of the methodology in general, and for an urgent update to CEAA guidance on the topic (JRP, 2014,

262). Lack of data regarding past projects, though a “common excuse to shy away from assuming the responsibilities for assessing cumulative effects” (JRP, 2014, 262) was not an acceptable reason to use current, rather than pre-Bennett dam, conditions as the starting point for cumulative effects assessment. The Panel argued that more information was available than BC

Hydro acknowledged (JRP, 2014, 259) and that “if each successive project used a new baseline, assuming that prior impacts were reflected in that baseline, then entire Aboriginal cultures and practices of Aboriginal and treaty rights could become effectively extinct before there is adequate appreciation for what has been lost” (JRP, 2014, 119).57 In addition, by examining the

57 The Joint Review Panel for the Lower Churchill Hydroelectric Generation Project had made similar comments several years previously. Nalcor Energy’s approach to selecting a baseline on which to calculate cumulative effects of that project was “identical” to that used by BC Hydro for Site C; that is, they incorporated the effects of past projects into the current conditions, rather than considering them as impacts on a pre-development ecosystem. The 265

effects of resource development activities “individually,” rather than considering the “combined residual effects of these activities and Site C,” the Panel considered that BC Hydro had missed the point of cumulative impact assessment (JRP, 2014, 119); thus, in addition to the significant cumulative effects that BC Hydro had predicted, the Panel concluded that Site C would cause significant, in some cases unmitigable, cumulative impacts on fish, wildlife, and on the use of land for traditional purposes by members of the Treaty 8 Nations (JRP, 2014) .

Regarding mitigation and compensation, the Panel noted participants’ concern that plans were not yet fully developed and might not be effective in mitigating the effects of Site C (JRP,

2014, 269). It also picked up the concern regarding the “ambiguous wording of many proposed mitigation measures” (“when appropriate,” “where possible,” etc.) (JRP, 2014, 269) and dealt with it by recommending that all of BC Hydro’s proposed mitigation measures, along with its own recommendations, be made binding conditions of project approval (JRP, 2014, 270), although the wording of some of these plans still seemed unenforceably vague.58

The Panel also recognized that financial compensation was not a panacea. First Nations, the Panel heard, desired “to continue to fish, hunt, trap, and harvest,” and “financial compensation was never a preferred solution” (JRP, 2014, 121) Although the Panel believed that

Lower Churchill Joint Review Panel argued that this approach had “potential for incremental decline in the biophysical and socio-economic environments with each successive development” and called Nalcor’s cumulative effects assessment process “an example of the poor track record of project-based cumulative effects assessment” (Bakker et al., 2016a, 20). Bakker et al point out that these concerns “would have been known” to CEAA and other regulatory bodies that authorized BC Hydro’s approach (Bakker et al., 2016a, 20).

58 For example, “The wetland mitigation plan will be developed using the mitigation hierarchy…and will incorporate expert advice provided by Ducks Unlimited. A staged approach for the plan is proposed which includes the development of conceptual plans for wetland mitigation projects, development of detailed designs, and production of completed construction plans. The plan will be developed with appropriate federal and provincial regulatory authorities and advice and input gained through consultation with First Nation and Aboriginal groups will be included in the plan” (JRP, 2014, 386).

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agricultural losses due to Site C would not be provincially or regionally significant, it appreciated that these losses would be significant for the farmers affected, and that “financial compensation would not make up for the loss of a highly valued place and way of life” (JRP,

2014, 149). The Panel further found that though proposals to mitigate environmental impacts were “important and should form part of the conditions of approval” (JRP, 2014, 54), they could not fully alleviate all environmental effects of Site C; impacts on fish and fish habitat, for example, “cannot be mitigated” (JRP, 2014, 55).

On offsetting, the Panel was ambiguous. Notwithstanding BC Hydro’s wetland compensation plan, the Panel disagreed with BC Hydro and concluded that the effect on wetlands overall would be significant (JRP, 2014, 64), with consequent impacts for species that depend on them. The Panel recognized that some “ecosystems that are uncommon to the region,” including types of wetland, “cannot be recreated and would be lost as a result of the Project.

These effects would be permanent and irreversible” (JRP, 2014, 63). The Panel understood that wetlands in general are “hard to recreate and…restoration is uncertain” (JRP, 2014, 64), but stopped short of questioning how a wetland could be replaced with a wetland that is already there. They pointed out that to keep loss of habitat to less than 20 percent for the western toad, more than 1200 hectares of habitat would have to be created, which “seems unlikely” (JRP,

2014, 79). Yet, in seeming contradiction, they recommended that BC Hydro (assuming Site C proceeded) should research and flesh out a Wetland Compensation Plan that “achieves a full replacement of the wetlands lost in terms of functions and compensates in terms of area,” at least three months before any activity affecting wetlands was to occur (JRP, 2014, 65). Overall, it pronounced itself “satisfied” with BC Hydro’s mitigation measures, provided they, along with the Panel’s recommendations, became conditions of project approval. 267

8.6 Conclusion

When Site C was approved, BC Hydro’s planned mitigation/compensation measures, along with virtually all the Panel’s recommendations directed to BC Hydro, did become provincial or federal conditions of approval (BCEAO, 2014b; Minister of the Environment,

2012). These conditions reflected the dominance of a worldview according to which the natural environment consists of a set of dissociable and replaceable components, that humans have the ability and right to manipulate. Site C was framed as a stand-alone initiative, unconnected to the social and economic history of the region. Opponents of the dam challenged this view, offering a more relational, systemic view of the environment, and framing Site C as part of an ongoing process of colonialism and extractivism; however, their alternative “story” (Cobb & Rifkin,

1991) was unable to overcome the “frame narrative” (Docherty, 2001) established by the terms and procedures of the EA process.

Approaches to environmental impacts that followed from the atomized view of the environment on which the project, and the EA process, were based were therefore able to contribute to making Site C appear less harmful, and easier to justify. Taken to the logical extreme, for instance, a limited conception of significance, combined with a restricted interpretation of cumulative impacts and an expansive view of the power of compensation could erase impacts altogether. Using agriculture as an example, a Treaty 8 representative pointed out that, according to the method used in the EIS for calculating cumulative effects, even if Site C flooded particular parcels of agricultural land in a given region, and other industrial projects

“completely destroyed” all the remaining agricultural parcels in the same region, no cumulative effects would be recorded, as long as each project destroyed a separate parcel, and there was no spatial overlap. This would be a “net loss for agriculture forever,” notwithstanding financial 268

compensation or increased agricultural production elsewhere, yet “[t]heoretically BC Hydro could obliterate all the agricultural land in the [region in question], compensate the farmers, and have ‘no significant cumulative effects’” (JRP, 2014, 257). The Joint Review Panel’s report recognized, even highlighted, the shortcomings of conventional cumulative effects assessment, but approval of Site C (and other projects) did not wait for improvements to be made.

Similarly, mitigation and compensation plans suggested that the negative impacts of the dam could be limited, though many of these plans were incomplete, indeterminate, and questionably effective, and some were designed to provide tangible compensation for intangible losses, while others depended on the ability to recreate ecosystems, almost from scratch.

Nevertheless, the existence of these plans seemed to make the project more palatable, and approvable. The EIS made clear, for example, that between 20 and 40% of wetlands in the region—a key “life support system” according to the BC government (R. K. Cox & Cullington,

2009)—would be lost if Site C proceeded. The Wetlands Mitigation and Compensation Plan attenuated this reality, even though, apparently, no one seriously believed the plan would work.

Mitigation and compensation schemes, along with cumulative impact assessments, were the output of technical experts performing their jobs. Yet these technical solutions deflected attention from the serious conflict of interests and conflict of narratives at stake over Site C. The consultation and EA process did not recognize or allow for negotiation of worldview differences; therefore, the default narrative predominated. The discursive structure of the process prevented opponents from effectively combating the cultural violence supported by the compartmentalized, analytic view of Site C and its impacts.

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“A Legalistic War:” The Violence of “Consultation"

9.1 Introduction

The atmosphere during the public hearings was a strange mix of tension and familiarity.

On one hand, the stakes were very high for both BC Hydro and Site C opponents, and at times their alert faces reflected that their professional identities and the future of their community, respectively, were on the line. On the other hand, the minute exploration of the project details was often profoundly tedious, and I saw people struggling to stay awake. The relationship between the two sides was similarly ambivalent. Although they were antagonists, by this time the long-term BC Hydro staff and the most active Site C opponents were well-known to each other, and now they were spending four intense weeks in the same room. Often, at breaks, if the questioning had been especially pointed, the BC Hydro team strode purposefully out of the ballroom towards the “behind-the-scenes” rooms reserved for them at the hotel, looking tense, if not grim, but at Community sessions, when the host Nation provided lunch, community members and BC Hydro representatives mingled awkwardly.

Some Site C opponents believed that BC Hydro representatives were “blindsided” by the arguments presented and the intensity of the opposition at the public hearings (Interviewee 17,

9/6/2014), though a staff member told me that most of what they heard was already familiar from the series of consultations leading up to the hearings. Other opponents speculated about what might be going on in the minds of the Hydro team during the impassioned presentations. While one observed that a leading representative looked “like a ghost…like she was gonna puke” during some of the most fraught moments (Fieldnotes 2/17/2014), another suggested that the team members had been trained to maintain their composure and given mantras to repeat when emotions ran high, or that they were receiving information and encouragement via email on 270

their laptops, even being reminded how much they were being paid not to show their emotions.

She believed that Hydro staff were “smart and professional,” although they see things differently, and some “really believe [Site C is] the right thing to do,” yet wondered why, on hearing the emotional presentations and arguments against Site C, no one “stood up and screamed, ‘I can’t do this anymore…’” (Fieldnotes, 2/6/2014).

*****

One possible reason for the odd atmosphere at the hearings was that words and actions did not match. Underlying the many hyper-respectful and collaborative speeches was a violent reality: the assessment and consultation process was unjust and would ultimately authorize a violent project. The previous chapters have focused on the cultural violence that masked the violence of the Site C project; this chapter will explore the structural violence of the assessment process. Galtung points out that structural violence means not only that the distribution of resources among social groups is uneven, but that “the power to decide over the distribution of resources” itself is “unevenly distributed”(Galtung, 1969, 171). I argue, then, that the Site C consultation and environmental assessment was structurally imbalanced, and that these imbalances were more than unfair—in its inequity, its enforcement of a particular worldview, its psychological effects on dissenting participants, and its enabling of a violent result, the process amounted to a form of violence. Its impacts were intensified because it was not unique, but only the largest of many similar processes happening simultaneously in the region, processes whose deficiencies, especially regarding First Nations’ rights and interests, have been well-documented.

While BC Hydro spoke of “working together” to achieve the benefits of Site C, opponents recognized that this was not the process of cooperative accommodation it purported to be; thus they not only used images of destruction, loss, and violation to describe the potential 271

effects of the project on their lives and futures, but spoke of the consultations and environmental assessment in terms of an all-out fight. Their fears were borne out, and the violence of the process exposed, in the discrepancy between BC Hydro’s oral communications at the public hearings, and their formal written submissions. BC Hydro had heard their concerns, but it made no difference as the process concluded.

In this chapter, I will begin by presenting the competing perspectives on the consultation process—an opportunity to exchange information, versus a war—before outlining the financial and political ways the process, even more than most EA processes, was stacked in favour of the proponent, and describing participants’ sense of being trapped in a meaningless exercise. I will then contrast BC Hydro’s in-person responses to opposing arguments with their written closing statement.

9.2 A Legalistic War

Participants’ views on the consultation process apparently reflected their views on Site C itself, and its potential consequences for their lives. BC Hydro representatives, believing that Site

C was the right project for the province and would benefit even those who opposed it, treated the consultation process as a procedural stage in the progress toward approval. For those who opposed Site C because it posed a multifarious threat to their well-being, however, the process seemed more likely to license than to forestall this threat. Their language suggested that they perceived the latent violence of such a process.

BC Hydro’s tone at the hearings was unfailingly conciliatory. Representatives were at pains to express respect, appreciation, and gratitude for views expressed, even by opponents of the project. For example, during the opening session, the Vice President for Site C made clear that “Over the weeks ahead, we welcome the opportunity to listen, to provide information, and to 272

respond to questions” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 44). BC Hydro “appreciated” the variety of perspectives from both residents and newcomers, a representative said, underlining that “…our team is listening, writing, remembering, and listening intently to everything” even if it was not specifically addressed in the closing remarks (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 230). The organization could not fail to be aware that “for some,” the mitigation and compensation measures proposed

“will not satisfy all their concerns;” however, BC Hydro “respect[s] the views of all participants,” and, as the hearings got underway, the VP emphasized that “we are grateful for the valuable contributions to the project that have been provided to date” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a,

53).

Site C opponents, however, did not want to contribute to the project. Rather than looking for opportunities to make it better, they wanted to ensure it never happened, but all their strenuous attempts had so far not convinced BC Hydro or the government to abandon this project that posed an existential threat to their communities. Thus, while BC Hydro struck a collaborative tone, anti-Site C activists apparently saw themselves in a fight to the death. Just as they had spoken of the Site C project in terms of devastation and violation, they used the imagery of battle and violence in referring to the consultation and EA process, and their own efforts to fend off the threatened “destruction of this valley” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 31). Non-Indigenous speakers often described themselves, along with First Nations, as David fighting a Goliath with unlimited taxpayer resources. While they took hope from David’s victory (Interviewee 11,

6/16/2014), according to a Hudson's Hope resident, “it feels like the one with the most money behind them wins… it's like… the bully holding his arm against our foreheads and our arms are swinging but to no effect” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 69). For many Indigenous participants, resisting Site C, along with innumerable other proposed developments on their territory, was 273

“really tiring, and… really frustrating because we are always fighting. We always have our gear on to fight. We’re always in battle” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 158). A speaker from Saulteau articulated her sense that beneath all the conciliatory words a real struggle was taking place, that endangered her and her community, and the world they lived in:

“… this is a war and there are two armies here: one is trying to protect the land, and the other is trying to invade and conquer. This is not a war in the violent sense, it is a legalistic war; a war fought on social and cultural economics, on a political battlefield where knowledge and theories are the ammunition. This is our home base, and, if unprotected, it becomes a wound to our people. We are only trying to prevent the pain, anguish, and consequences that come with puncturing and altering the land, the water, the animals, and the people” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014l, 171).

From that point of view, it was perhaps not surprising that several speakers threatened to substantiate that covert conflict through physical action, even physical violence. Speaking of a sacred island in the Peace River, one speaker quietly informed the Panel that, “… to protect that island, I will go to war” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 131). A woman from West Moberly recalled her grandfather’s deathbed instruction to “fight for that; you make sure that dam doesn’t go through. So… as a Dene’ Tha woman, I, too, will stake myself to the ground” (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013g, 164). And a former Saulteau chief prompted a reproach from the Panel Chair when he declared, “It's hard for me right now, because [of] so much emotion right now, but I will tell you one thing: I have fought with you guys before at your field with your court system, and I'm doing that again now, and if I have to take up a gun and fight with it in order to defend my land, well so be it.” (He quickly apologized, saying “I'm not trying to start an uprising or--I'm just letting out my frustrations” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 206)).

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9.3 Structural Imbalance

These participants, like others, were hardly behaving as if they were participating in an

Environmental Assessment process that “was thorough and independent,” and that provided them with “multiple opportunities for timely and meaningful participation” as BC Hydro described it (BC Hydro and Power Authority (BCH), 2017b). In fact, many Site C opponents experienced the consultations not just as unfair, ineffective, and inauthentic (as Chapter 6 showed), but as disempowering and violent. Participating in the Site C process, like other similar processes, demanded time, money, and mental energy, for little return. It pitted individuals and organizations with a great personal stake in the issue, but limited resources, against well- resourced professionals, while offering dubious hope of real influence on the outcome.

Though EAs are usually weighted in favour of the proponent in several ways, this asymmetry was exacerbated for Site C because the provincial Crown was both project proponent and decision-maker. Whereas, in most cases, a private corporation proposes a project to be approved or (rarely) denied by government, in this case, the provincial government, had mandated the proponent, BC Hydro (a Crown corporation), through the Clean Energy Act and energy planning processes, to undertake Site C. At the conclusion of the EA process, the provincial (and federal) Cabinet would determine whether to grant the project an Environmental

Certificate, and, ultimately, whether to proceed with it. Moreover, any independent oversight the

BC Utilities Commission might have provided had been eliminated. BC Hydro therefore enjoyed even more financial and political advantages than project proponents normally do.

9.3.1 David and Goliath

Participants in the consultation process frequently pointed out the imbalance in resources between BC Hydro and Site C opponents. For one thing, individuals who contested (or 275

supported) Site C, even through official channels, did so out of their own pockets (though, as the

PVEA President emphasized, apart from two couples whose homes and land would be affected, none stood to gain financially by opposing the project (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 52)). For members of the public, unlike salaried BC Hydro representatives, participation in the hearings entailed lost income (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 89), and they traveled to the hearings at their own expense, occasionally from as far away as Roberts Creek and Creston, BC (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013d, 106, 107: 2014i, 130).

Site C opponents expended a great deal of labour and money protesting Site C, via the

EA process and through other channels. PVEA volunteers, for example, according to the

President “spent hours attending meetings, fundraising, writing letters, donating money, and dedicating their spare time” campaigning against Site C, and this included travelling “in all seasons” to attend the hearings despite the snowy roads (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013ji, 47). Some had been campaigning against the project for decades, and their activism sometimes took a personal toll; one speaker, for example, pointed out that his activism against Site C had outlasted three computers, as well as negatively affecting the “financial resiliency of our retirement”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 131).

As an official “Interested Party” in the Site C decision-making process, the PVEA qualified to receive a maximum of $19,000 in government funding to hire expert consultants to comment on the EIS. Even coordinating with other organizations, and with some consultants giving “a big break” on fees (Interviewee 6, 12/3/2013), however, the PVEA found they had to

“do fundraising all the time, and squeeze our members” for money, to cover consulting fees, transportation, accommodation, and other costs (Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014, Interviewee 6,

12/3/2013). Total public funding to groups opposing Site C was $169,000 (Churchill, 2018, 91). 276

Long-time anti-Site C activists liked to recall a late PVEA member’s quip that they were “Peace people peddling pies for pennies,” holding bake sales, garage sales, and bottle drives and

“put[ting] the touch on family and friends,” to raise funds, and experiencing “constant worry” over funding (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 50).

The fact that BC Hydro, as a Crown corporation, in contrast, had access to apparently unlimited public funds, as well as professional staff, to advocate for their project aggravated the resource imbalance, and galled Site C opponents. In a “David and Goliath type situation” the

PVEA and Treaty 8 First Nations together raised approximately five hundred thousand dollars

(not including volunteer hours) (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 139), but one speaker, echoing others, called it a “travesty of justice,” and “appalling” that North Peace residents need to “donate our time and efforts to fight BC Hydro on Site C, while as ratepayers we are paying BC Hydro panel people in excess of $300,000 a year [each] to sit in this room with us” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014f,

112). Some suggested that, for fairness, BC Hydro should also have been limited to $19,000 per subject of debate (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014); instead, BC Hydro seemed to have “basically a blank cheque to use the taxpayer’s dollars to advance the project,” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014), which they saw as “using our money to destroy the valley” (Interviewee 15, 8/27/2014).

The resource imbalance was also particularly pronounced for affected First Nations, because of the total number of industrial projects all taking place at once and requiring their attention. Booth and Skelton report that when they carried out research in northeastern BC in

2011, more than 30 Environmental Assessments affecting Treaty 8 First Nations were in process or about to begin. At the same time, the lands offices for the West Moberly First Nations and the

Halfway River First Nations each responded to up to 150 forestry, and oil and gas referrals, exploration permits and requests for pre-consultation each month (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 277

381). With little money available for permanent staff or expert consultants, the small group of lands office employees and the elders who provide much of the knowledge for consultation processes were overworked and overwhelmed. Furthermore, without funding for their own studies, Nations were forced to rely on proponent studies they did not necessarily trust (Booth &

Skelton, 2011b, 382). To make matters worse, most community members did not understand these complex consultation processes well enough to participate “meaningfully” (Booth &

Skelton, 2011b, 393). As Booth and Skelton query, if proponents who are “generally well- funded, well-educated, have access to plentiful resources and have a singular focus on the project they wish to see approved” do not always understand the process themselves (as some admitted),

“how then must it be for an under-funded, multi-focused First Nation community with restricted capacity?” (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 393). Yet the process assumes that First Nations are on a level playing field with EA professionals representing the proponent and the government agencies (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 381).

At the Site C hearings, Indigenous participants frequently drew attention to this asymmetry. Saulteau First Nation, for example, reported having a small council and administrative staff, with limited budgets and uncertain capacity funding constraining planning.

Their technical expertise, though “growing,” remained “limited.” They lacked specialized office equipment and vehicles with which to monitor compliance in the field. They faced “short timelines and converging deadlines.” In short, “Saulteau can’t keep up with all these referrals.

Consultations are not meaningful, and our Treaty rights are impacted by every activity that happens on the land” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 64). Saulteau is “inundated by large-scale industrial activities [with] significant cumulative impacts,” yet the lack of resources for participating in consultations means it “isn’t at an even playing field” in responding to industrial 278

initiatives. Not only does this affect the practice of Treaty rights, but it leaves few resources for attending to internal issues (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 64f).

Similarly, at West Moberly, a “little handful of people” in the lands office daily responded to “hundreds” of project referrals, generated by “whole departments” of industry and government. A speaker wanted the Panel to understand that “we have a lot on our shoulders right now. We are fighting for our land in every aspect possible…” and responding to Site C amounted to “a whole other department…with all the boxes and boxes of paper that we get to assess the Site C project” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 158). People were “tired” and “frustrated,”

“working 24/7 to try to…defend our position for this project” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 158).

Overall, according to the Treaty 8 Tribal Chief, “our funding formula is not working for us” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014h, 164), and in the Site C process in particular, the dissenting Nations were at a severe disadvantage. She said,

“…we need to be informed fully and meaningfully, and we have to have the capacity, the expertise, to help us make our decisions, and we don’t have that. We have a David and Goliath situation here where we have a team of maybe three people compared to… about 40 of BC Hydro’s people here today. That’s not consultation. Where is the fairness in that?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 82).

Funding to support First Nations participation in consultation processes is a legal requirement of their relationship with the Crown; without such funding, many communities would not be able to hire scientists to review studies, and community members would not be able to take time off work or travel to hearings (Dubrule, Patriquin, & Hood, 2018, 10). Dubrule et al. note, however, that “lack of funding appears to have limited meaningful engagement” for Site C.

While BC Hydro did provide funding for studies and consultations, they determined how much

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013b, 74) leaving First Nations represented by the Treaty 8 Tribal

Association feeling “restricted by BC Hydro as to what we could do” according to the Tribal 279

Chief (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014g, 65), and believing that significant information gaps remained. A

Saulteau member therefore suggested, “why don’t we draft up a budget so we can have a fair fight with you people, because we don’t have no professionals to help us here…” He wanted to be able to “verify,” and “compare” the studies. “I want an equation. I want a fair fight here, not one-sided,” he repeated (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 182).

This financial preponderance of project proponents also has important implications for political control over the process. In part because they pay for them, proponents “dominate” environmental assessments, exerting “substantial control over… public participation”

(O’Faircheallaigh, 2017, 1181). BC Hydro, the proponent for Site C, controlled the mode, the timing, and the agenda for the public consultation sessions. Regulatory requirements established the timelines for the public hearings; however, these were not any friendlier to First Nations engagement or public participation. The time allowed for First Nation responses to EA documents in general is “widely held to be inadequate,” and does not account for their limited resources relative to those of corporate interlocutors, the number of EA processes occurring simultaneously in some Nations’ territories, and cultural requirements for broad community input into decisions (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 387; Dubrule et al., 2018). Indeed, Indigenous groups objected to the short timelines from the beginning of the Site C consultation process

(Dubrule et al., 2018).

Local governments and service providers also struggled to respond to the possibility of

Site C, while continuing their normal functions. Municipalities and non-profits spent an

“incredible amount of time…educating themselves on Site C,” and how it would impact them, and “because we’re working on Site C stuff, means we’re not working on something else,” explained an employee (Interviewee 21, 10/2/2014). Despite the capacity funding the City of 280

Fort St John received (Interviewee 30, 12/19/2014), responding to Site C was a “huge drain on their resources,” and “it takes a toll” as people try to keep up with their ordinary workload along with Site C- related work. For the much smaller town of Hudson’s Hope, “Site C has dominated everything they do,” but “they couldn’t stick their head in the sand…they had no choice but to find the capacity,” leaving few resources for the regular running of the community (Interviewee

21, 10/2/2014).

Members of the general public likewise had trouble responding to the voluminous EIS and other documentation on the given schedule. Several critics of Site C pointed out how difficult it was for “ordinary citizens” to review the 27,000 pages of the Environmental Impact

Statement within the 60-day comment period (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j, 50); one called the

“information flow… insurmountable for an individual” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i,135). Like First

Nations, concerned residents and property owners faced an “overload of these processes,” so many that “… a member of the public just gets snowed under” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014).

Between Site C and resource companies trying to access their land, one resident reported that

“since 2001 I’ve spent up to 30 hours a week on negotiations and meetings and research on all these things. And it’s absolutely overwhelming” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 219). Though Site C was one of the most extensive, each of these processes has “a rank of binders” to be reviewed on short timelines, and “next week there’s another one. And then there’s another one, and then there’s another one…it’s the death of a thousand cuts” (Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014). Though some time limits may be desirable to ensure reasonably prompt decisions, so that all parties can move forward, time limits that favour proponents with large staffs who can focus on one process at a time, while ignoring the constraints of affected communities, undermine the public engagement they purport to encourage and skew the process toward approval. 281

In preparing terms of reference, hiring professionals, selecting methodologies, defining impacts, and determining the scope of assessments, proponents also “shape…findings and so heavily influence the information on which regulators or politicians decide” (O’Faircheallaigh,

2017, 1181). As seen in earlier chapters, BC Hydro (with guidance from CEAA and BCEAO) drafted the Environmental Impact Statement Guidelines and the Environmental Impact

Statement, selected the Valued Components, and opined on the significance of projected impacts. Although the public and First Nations provided input directly and via an advisory

Working Group, Site C opponents complained that their feedback made little difference to the final documents.

Demarcating an issue and establishing the way it will be approached is a form of framing, and holds considerable political power, as I discussed in Chapter 8, and the fact that project proponents commission and pay for the research that makes up environmental impact statements increases the likelihood that findings will support project approval. For example, in a review of ten recent EIAs from British Columbia (which did not include Site C), Murray et al. found that researchers used subjective professional judgement far more often than objective thresholds to determine significance, and that in many cases they used “weak and unsubstantiated reasoning… to override results derived” from objective criteria (Murray et al., 2018, 1067); in all cases where thresholds were exceeded, researchers nevertheless deemed the effects not significant (Singh et al., 2019, 135). Furthermore, CEAA’s and BCEAO’s conclusions regarding the significance of impacts of these same projects followed the proponents’ in 95 and 93 percent of cases, respectively, notwithstanding the threshold exceedances (Singh et al., 2019, 136) (although for

Site C, the Joint Review Panel did disagree with BC Hydro’s conclusions in several instances, as

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discussed in the previous chapters (JRP, 2014)).59 Given that too many “findings of significance” might mean rejection of a project, there is a strong possibility of bias and consultants, regardless of their personal integrity, are in conflict of interest (Singh et al., 2019);60 in any case, the arrangement ensures that the subjective opinions of a few professionals (who rarely live on the affected land) are highly influential, while input from local communities is excluded (Murray et al., 2018). Westman goes so far as to call environmental impact assessment an “important handmaiden” of development, due to the “close working relationships between consultants, industry and government” (Westman, 2006, 35).

What is more, there are few measures in place to ensure the quality of environmental assessment science. The lack of transparent peer-review processes, oversight body or professional designations for EA consultants puts companies “in charge of making the output fit

[their] needs” (Baker & Westman, 2018, 147), and there is evidence of bad faith in some

Canadian EAs. According to the author of a review of thirty oilsands EIAs (M. A. Campbell,

Kopach, Komers, & Ford, 2019), the studies reviewed were so inconsistent in their models and results that “You would have to go out of your way to make it this bad;” and studies rarely received independent review (Weber, 2019). Biological and social scientific consultants even report being asked to modify their results to suit proponents’ purposes, or at least to make their reports “as confusing as possible,” (Baker & Westman, 2018, 148; Thomson, 2018). Baker and

Westman found that Social Impact Assessments carried out as part of oilsands EIAs are often

59 The Panel included a discussion of the use of thresholds and professional judgement in determining significance in its report (JRP, 2014, 74). 60 Singh et al (2019) note that after revisions to the British Columbia Environmental Assessment Act (Government of British Columbia, 2018b, 2018a) proponents will no longer determine significance.

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(though not always) performed by under-qualified consultants, and EIAs tend to “quote from other anonymous grey literature sources, which… turn out to be relying on questionable data from earlier such studies, and so on” (Baker & Westman, 2018, 150; Fox & Winnitoy, 2017;

Westman, 2006). Even when First Nations protest that data is “inaccurate or inadequate” (Booth

& Skelton, 2011b, 387), EA processes often proceed without adjustment. Although there is no suggestion that the Site C EIS research was conducted in bad faith, the process took place within a system whereby the proponent largely sets the research parameters, and measures to control and evaluate the quality of results are lacking, since challenges to methodology and findings by project opponents seldom affect the outcome; the controversy over the assessment of cumulative impacts discussed in Chapter 8 is a case in point.

9.3.2 “Predisposition to Approve”

Not only do proponents regularly benefit from structural advantages in EAs, but there is a

“structural bias” towards approving projects, wherever EAs are carried out (O’Faircheallaigh,

2017, 1183). Between 1995 and 2013, for example, no Alberta oil sands proposal was “rejected or significantly modified” through an EA process, despite the “consistency and power of participants’ rejections, and the questionable quality of the assessments” (Westman, 2013, 112;

Baker & Westman, 2018, 150). In fact, EIS documents tend to “‘narrativize’ development as inevitable, desirable, and progressive” (Westman, 2006, 35) as BC Hydro had done in presenting its case for Site C (see Chapter 7), upholding resource development as an economic driver and creator of jobs, while undervaluing the environment. Because EIS documents do not “seriously question development, or provide information that would assist those who wish to question it,” negative impacts are downplayed (Westman, 2006, 35; O’Faircheallaigh, 2017), and opponents are dismissed and their arguments overridden. 284

In portraying development as unquestionable, EIAs draw on “dominant narratives…

[that] equate development with the ‘general interest’” (O’Faircheallaigh, 2017, 1184). This was particularly true during the Site C EA, when the provincial and federal governments in power were proudly pro-development. The federal Natural Resources Minister of the day, for example, described environmentalists as driven by a “radical ideological agenda” and funded by “foreign special interest groups” to kill “good projects” regardless of the “cost to Canadian families in lost jobs and economic growth” (Payton, 2012). The governments had financial incentive to approve projects: Booth and Skelton note that the BC government, which received billions of dollars from resources industries had a “certain predisposition to approve development applications”

(Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 386).

9.3.3 Onus on Opponents

Even when, as with Site C, the proposal is for a large and potentially detrimental project on treaty land, the onus is less on the proponent to prove that the project is desirable, safe, sustainable, and would contribute to the well-being of the region, than on project opponents—

First Nations and the public, who, as we have seen, are relatively underequipped to do so—to demonstrate why it should not proceed. The overarching question guiding an EA review is not

“is this project the best use of common resources?” but “can the impacts be justified?” The default is for projects to be approved; without public opposition they would often go uncontested. More broadly, especially for the pro-development governments in power at the time, development represented action, while preserving the environment meant doing “nothing.”

They apparently did not imagine that First Nations and communities might have their own land- use ideas. As William David, of the Assembly of First Nations, commented, no one thinks to ask

First Nations, “what’s your plan for this area?” (Amnesty International, 2016a); it seems to be 285

assumed that land is idle until industrially developed. Conservation, in this view, means saying no to resource extraction, not yes to other values. Thus, the provincial Premier referred to Site C opponents and other environmental activists as the “Forces of No,” (Prepost & Wakefield, 2016) ignoring the “vast opportunities, creative and achievable ideas, dreams and aspirations” for a regional economy based on “First Nations values,” conservation, agriculture, tourism and recreation, that the T8TA, PVEA, PVLA and Y2Y presented in their shared vision for the valley

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014l, 131, 132).

9.3.4 Crown Conflict of Interest

This bias toward project approval exists even where the project proponent is a private company, and the government is a presumably independent defender of the public interest. It was only intensified in the case of Site C, where the provincial government, as well as ultimate decision-maker, was a champion of the project. It is not always clear how much influence the governing parties had over the regulatory agencies, or exactly who did what, but overall certain

Crown actions, while within the regulatory framework, are troubling given the Crown’s conflict of interest, and biased the process in favour of Site C.

Besides limiting other allowable electricity generation options and exempting Site C from

BCUC review through the Clean Energy Act, as explained in Chapter 6, the Crown appointed the members of the Joint Review Panel. BCEAO and CEAA may jointly evaluate and recommend candidates from a roster, making their selections based on “relevant,” but unspecified,

“knowledge [and] expertise” (Impact Assessment Agency of Canada, 2019). For Site C, the provincial and federal Ministers of the Environment jointly made the final appointment (JRP

2014). The Treaty 8 Tribal Association requested that the three-member Panel should include additional, Indigenous members (Dubrule et al., 2018); however, although the Agreement To 286

Conduct a Cooperative Environmental Assessment between the federal and provincial environment Ministries states that the regulatory agencies “may consider candidate names put forward by Aboriginal Groups or members of the public” (JRP 2014, 331), there is evidently no requirement that review panels include representatives of First Nations or local communities, and the request was not granted. All three of the selected panel members were Euro-Canadians with extensive experience in the civil service and public policy (as well as other fields). The most prominent Site C opponents, meanwhile, were First Nations members, farmers, and ranchers, whose opposition grew specifically out of those identities. While people’s worldviews and biases cannot be assumed from their demographics (especially in the Site C conflict, as discussed in

Chapter 4), and while many Site C opponents spoke highly of the panelists as individuals and believed that they had taken their concerns seriously, the choice of these panelists implied that

Euro-Canadian civil servants somehow embodied neutrality—and that others are therefore not neutral, but representatives of special interest groups. The selection of an all Euro-Canadian, white collar, non-resident panel as arbiters of a conflict between the largely Euro-Canadian, white collar, non-resident Crown corporation and affected local residents and First Nations thus marginalized Site C opponents and their perspectives.

The agreement between the Ministers of the Environment also generated the Joint

Review Panel’s Terms of Reference. As noted in Chapter 6, those Terms of Reference directed the Panel to “describe any asserted or established Aboriginal rights and Treaty rights… raised during the [hearings] and any impacts on those rights as articulated by those Aboriginal Groups” and to advise how those impacts could be reduced, but not to “make conclusions or recommendations” regarding the “nature,” “scope,” or “strength” of asserted Aboriginal rights, whether the Crown had fulfilled its duty to consult and accommodate, or “any matter of treaty 287

interpretation,” including whether Site C would constitute a violation of Treaty 8 (JRP 2014,

337). Questions regarding fulfilment of the duty to consult and treaty infringement would be

“left to much more learned minds than ours at the end of the day,” as the panel Chairman told members of the McLeod Lake First Nation at the public hearings (CEAA/BEAO, 2013c, 122).

At the end of the day, however, there was no independent assessment of Crown consultation, and no assessment at all of potential treaty infringement. Again, as noted in Chapter

6, with the removal of BCUC oversight, BCEAO and CEAA’s appraisal of their own and BC

Hydro’s process in the Consultation and Accommodation report was the only evaluation of its adequacy (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014, in Bakker et al., 2016a, 15, 16). Public documents—Decision

Statements, Environmental Certificates, and announcements (BCEAO, 2014a; Minister of the

Environment, 2014; Office of the Minister of the Environment, 2014; Office of the Premier,

2014)—made no mention of treaty infringement. In fact, the federal government at least, acknowledged in court that it did not carry out any legal analysis regarding its Treaty 8 obligations before approving Site C, arguing that it has no legal responsibility to do so, and “that the onus is entirely on the affected First Nations to prove in court that their rights have been infringed” (Amnesty International, 2016b). Yet treaty rights are not merely asserted, but well- established (Bakker et al., 2016a). So “Why do we have to prove our Treaty rights exist in an area that was agreed to was Treaty territory?” asked a West Moberly elder (CEAA/BCEAO,

2013g, 187). The consultation process Site C proponents put forward to differentiate Site C from the WAC Bennett dam and its abuses deliberately excluded consideration of key First Nations’ legal rights, slanting the decision toward an outcome that benefitted some, but wreaked violence—against culture, psyche, and potentially even body—on others.

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9.3.5 Violence Against Identity

Furthermore, like most such processes, the Site C consultation and EA process neglected other key concerns and needs of First Nations and residents opposed to Site C. Booth and

Skelton document that, “by everyone’s admission,” quantitatively oriented EA processes typically fail to address crucial questions of culture or spirituality (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 398;

Baker & Westman, 2018; Westman, 2013). They suggest that this lack of attention to culture and spirituality stems in part from the “vast gulf” between a “Western, scientific, techno-rational worldview” out of which EAs originate, that understands the world by breaking things down into

“discrete,” “ahistorical” categories and parts, and the more “holistic,” emplaced worldviews of many Indigenous participants (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 397, 398). In the Site C process, this gulf between worldviews did not fall neatly along ethnic or demographic lines; many non-

Indigenous Site C opponents also rejected the extremes of the “Western” techno-rational perspective. As discussed in Chapter 8, in arguments over cumulative effects and over mitigation and compensation both non-Indigenous and Indigenous participants found that their unquantifiable and intangible values in the land were not represented in the assessment of impacts.

The neglect of cultural and spiritual concerns, and the dominance of the techno-rational worldview in EA and consultation processes is more than simply an omission, however; it amounts to the violent imposition of one worldview on another. Nadasdy has argued that nation- to-nation processes such as land claims negotiations and wildlife co-management arrangements, rather than empowering Indigenous people, may be acting as “subtle extensions of empire” because, in order to make themselves heard in them, First Nations people must speak and behave in ways that are comprehensible to state bureaucracies (Nadasdy, 2003,9) (see Chapter 7 and 8 of 289

this document). In adopting these modes of speech and behaviour, they must also, Nadasdy argues, adopt “a whole set of implicit assumptions about the world,” which may be “deeply antithetical to their own” (Nadasdy, 2003, 6); for example, they must be able to talk about animals as numbers, or treat land as property. In addition, Nadasdy observed that effective participation in these processes, by the Kluane First Nation, for example required bureaucratization of the community; over more than 40 years of land claims negotiations, a

“sizeable percentage” (2003, 263) of the community spent much of their time in working in offices and meeting rooms, resulting in “profound changes” to how, when and where they spent time on the land (2003, 253). Thus, by participating in these processes, First Nations risk undermining the very worldviews and cultural practices they are trying to protect.

Although the often-adversarial context of EA processes is quite different from land claims negotiations, a similar argument applies, as Booth and Skelton have pointed out. These processes hold out the possibility of protecting First Nations culture by protecting land, yet the worldview adaptations that participation requires “might actually be forcing unwelcome change” on the culture they are attempting to protect (Booth & Skelton, 2011b, 373). Unlike Nadasdy, I do not have evidence (one way or the other) of concrete social changes resulting from First

Nations’ participation in EA processes; however, the sheer number and duration of consultations in the Peace region clearly demands substantial time and effort from individuals and communities, taking time from other pursuits. At the same time, as Peyton argues, even as First

Nations (and others) contest dominant conceptions of land and animals expressed in EA procedures, their mere participation in “an assessment project not of their own design or intent, reif[ies] the authority of science operating in the service of the state” (Peyton, 2017, 145). An EA process, then, may inflict double violence against “identity needs,” in the form of 290

“desocialization” out of the original worldview and “resocialization” into another (Galtung,

1990, 293). First, it facilitates a project, such as Site C, that jeopardizes First Nations’ ability to practice land-based livelihood and spirituality, and second, the process itself, by diverting participants from those land-based practices, and by demanding modes of thought and interaction derived from a scientific, bureaucratic worldview, subverts the preservation of alternative worldviews.

9.4 Coercion, Voicelessness, Futility

Nevertheless, First Nations and non-Indigenous people who, like Site C critics, oppose development projects, continue to participate in consultation and environmental assessment processes. As unsatisfactory as they may be, they are the only forum available for opponents to have their say, and the T8TA members Booth and Skelton interviewed, despite their criticisms, did appreciate that a process of some sort existed (Booth & Skelton, 2011b). Similarly, non-

Indigenous Site C opponents I spoke to participated in the Site C consultations because, as mentioned in Chapter 6, they felt it was the “only venue” to stay informed and present their perspectives (Interviewees 15, 16, 8/27/2014).

That said, people often participated because they felt they had no choice. Some non-

Indigenous Site C opponents participated even when frustrated, because they believed that non- participation in consultation would be taken as non-opposition to the project, and First Nations faced an even more acute dilemma. Participation in consultation demands a great deal of human energy but yields little influence over the project, and may even be taken as consent, especially if funding for traditional land use studies has been accepted (Baker & Westman, 2018). Yet First

Nations that do not participate forfeit their only potential channel for registering their concerns, asserting “control over their territory” and securing “at least some respect for the area”(Gislason 291

& Andersen, 2016, 11); under consultation guidelines, when First Nations decline to be consulted, their views are not taken into account or even documented, but the project in question is no less likely to be approved (Baker & Westman, 2018). Failure to participate in consultation may also weigh against First Nations in court; the Crown may argue that consultation was inadequate only because they did not take full advantage of the process that was offered. The

West Moberly Chief, quoting one of his Councilors, therefore compared consultation to “having a gun to the back of our head and being forced to walk off a cliff” (Amnesty International,

2016a). There was neither an opportunity to refuse the project through the consultation process, nor a real opportunity to refuse the consultation process itself.

Participants’ sense of being unable to influence the result of the consultation process, despite the time, money, and effort they expended, combined with the serious potential consequences on their lives if Site C was approved, gave rise to a sense of voicelessness and futility. In West Moberly, an unknown number of community members boycotted the public hearings, because they felt that “this process is irrelevant, as if their voices aren’t being heard”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 26). At Saulteau, the feeling among the membership that “this process is already approved and that the people do not have a voice at the end of the day,” was based on the experience of “many projects that have been approved even when [Saulteau First Nations] has said no” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 35). Each such process, each mentally exhausting experience of engaging with the consultation process on its timeline and its terms, for no benefit, contributes to cumulative spiritual harm and “devastating” psychological impacts, according to researchers who have studied multiple processes (Booth & Skelton, 2011c, 695; Baker &

Westman, 2018; Gislason & Andersen, 2016).

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Non-Indigenous participants also articulated their own consultation fatigue. According to a speaker at the Hudson’s Hope hearing, the consultation process negatively “affects the social, moral, and mental health of residents” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f, 67), while an interviewee felt that for proponents, consultation sessions “are all just steps that have to be gone through, to get to their end, and so they inflict pain and suffering on us, who have to participate in them”

(Interviewee 10, 6/16/2014). This multi-generational landowner said that his family, which had been affected by the WAC Bennett dam, had also been “actively …involved in the ups and downs of Site C,” since his mother submitted a 60-page brief to the BCUC in 1991. He continued “There’s only so many different ways you can say that it doesn’t make sense, and affects everything that you value, and then a lot of people move on with their life. They’ve had enough.” He asked, “Would you want to pass this…legacy on to your children? It’s kind of like a death sentence hanging over you… It wears you down after a while” (Interviewee 10,

6/16/2014).

The Site C environmental assessment process, like many others, was “emotionally draining” for opponents (Baker & Westman, 2018, 145), yet the structure, procedure, and dominant culture of the process ensured that the main result was not to incorporate their concerns into decision-making, but to validate project approval. This structural violence was intensified by the Crown’s dual role as project proponent and decision-maker, and by the many review processes taking place simultaneously which increased the asymmetry between proponents and opponents, and the attention and resources they were able to devote to advocating for or against the project.

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9.5 “Hearing with Our Hearts”

This violence was not evident on the surface during the public hearings, however, in the measured voices of BC Hydro representatives, and the expressions of appreciation for Site C critics’ input. It appeared not in the interactions when opponents and proponents were face-to- face, but in the closing statement when BC Hydro continued to defend the project despite its myriad potential impacts.

BC Hydro representatives had listened impassively to the fervent appeals against Site C, and at the final session, the Vice President concluded the company’s contributions to the hearings by re-emphasizing appreciation for the hearing participants:

“In the last few weeks, we have heard from communities, from First Nations, from landowners, and individuals who have provided their thoughts and their concerns. They have identified the issues that are important to them. Some have also articulated their support. And I would just like to thank all of the people who have come out to participate as part of these hearings… some of these same folks have been part of… our consultation process over the last six years. And I just—I want to say that I recognize and I greatly respect the effort that they have undertaken, and the passion that they have brought to these proceedings” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2014k, 200).

At the end of every hearing session, BC Hydro had the opportunity to respond to the presentations of the day, and they had often used this opportunity to summarize the main points of presentations, to thank the presenters, and to acknowledge their feelings. For example, after the Saulteau Community Session, a BC Hydro representative noted that “it was important for

[the lands team] to talk to us about the challenges that you were facing with the level of activity in your territory,” and specifically thanked the Elders “…for sharing your stories with us today about many things including your experiences with the impacts of the Bennett and Peace Canyon

Dam” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 239).

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These reflections were usually sympathetic, but non-committal. For example, in Fort St

John, the representative observed that a former resident had “shared his passion for the valley and the region and the many ways this place is special to his family. We understand that his personal attachment to the valley is strong, and he does not wish to see this project proceed”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2014i, 131, 282). BC Hydro representatives emphasized the positive whenever possible, whether something positive a speaker had said, or the organization’s own response, as when the PVEA Director expressed her frustration with the consultation process: “I think during this [cooperative] assessment, we respect [the Director’s] perspective. And…we will continue our efforts to consult fully with people in this region” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013i, 209). In these daily reflections, BC Hydro often answered questions by referring the questioner to the EIS.

Occasionally they offered a brief, non-confrontational clarification or explanation, such as, “In response to concerns with the use of the Williston reservoir, which was used today somewhat as a comparison or an example, I would like to highlight that the Site C reservoir would be a much smaller body of water at approximately 5 percent of the surface area” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013f,

233). Rarely did they dispute arguments brought forward by lay participants.

Overall, team members affirmed that they had “heard with our hearts,” as they had been asked to do (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 35, 239). They also communicated understanding of the true costs of the project; as one representative said, “We do understand and have recognized that this project has effects, and these effects will be most profound for those who live in this place…” Acknowledging the position of landowners who were “directly and significantly impacted,” she noted that “I can imagine how difficult it was for you to come and share with the

Panel today...” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013e, 248). Nor were they unaware of the spiritual and cultural attachment to the Peace Valley; they said they were particularly thankful for stories and 295

descriptions of life on the land. Reflecting on presentations in Saulteau, the representative noted that Elders had spoken about the importance of traditions to their families, children, grandchildren and future generations,” while, from the youth, she “heard clearly that you have a lot to learn about your traditions and want to be able to pass those along and you need time to do that” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013h, 238). At West Moberly, she concluded, “We’ve heard many things today about your territory, your activities, and your way of life, and there are many things that will stay with me.” She recalled the statement that “living off the land makes us who we are,” and “appreciate[d]…comments about the spiritual connection to the land… we heard you loudly in your words today; we thank you for sharing your stories with us. We are grateful”

(CEAA/BCEAO, 2013g, 196).

This approach—empathizing, while sidestepping overt expressions of conflict—may have been intended to placate critics, but some found it irritating. In the words of a prominent

Site C opponent, “Hydro everyday had the last word, and what did they do? Sometimes they just quoted what we had said, but they didn’t answer any questions, or nobody could pin them down”

(Interviewee 8, 3/1/2014). BC Hydro’s direct, substantive response to public criticisms of the project came later, in their closing statement, which was filed in writing, ten days after the hearings closed, on the last day the record remained open.61 The notable difference in tone between the oral interactions and this 368-page final submission (BCH, 2014a) makes evident why Site C opponents were so frustrated. This matter of fact, legalistic document contains none of the expressions of understanding heard at the hearings, and, in fact, dismisses many of Valley residents’ key concerns, particularly regarding the loss of land for agricultural and traditional

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Indigenous uses.

According to BC Hydro’s final arguments, many First Nations’ community members did not have an accurate understanding of potential effects of Site C; many of their fears were

“grounded in misconceptions about the actual effects of the Project, stemming from events of the past,” i.e. the creation of the Williston reservoir, “or impacts from oil and gas and other industrial development” (BCH, 2014a, 132, 245, 253). They also lacked a “detailed understanding” of avoidance and mitigation measures that were planned to moderate impacts on the exercise of

Aboriginal and Treaty rights (BCH, 2014a, 263), in part because consultation took place through the T8TA rather than through individual Nations, and BC Hydro was not able to meet with all communities directly.

Given BC Hydro representatives’ stated appreciation for the importance of life on the land, the organization’s interpretation of treaty rights and the significance of Site C’s potential impacts was surprisingly ungenerous. The final submission asserted that a T8TA lawyer’s argument in favour of “shared decision-making” was not supported by Canadian case law, and that (as noted in Chapter 6), “procedural protections to allow for meaningful participation in a decision-making process” were all that was required (BCH, 2014a, 126f). Moreover (again as noted in Chapter 6), the submission pointed out that the standard of free, prior, and informed consent was not binding in Canadian law.

The final submission also noted the concern raised by several First Nations that their ability to maintain the ‘same means of earning a livelihood’ promised by Treaty 8 was threatened; however, in BC Hydro’s view, this concern related to the extensive activities of the oil and gas, mining and forestry industries (BCH, 2014a, 260). BC Hydro’s position was that a

“continuity of traditional patterns of land use was neither promised nor expected” by the treaty 297

signers on either side, but that even taking a broader interpretation of Treaty 8 rights, “there is no substantive evidence that the exercise of [these rights] will be substantially restricted” (BCH,

2014a, 260), because:

No harvested species that are hunted or trapped will become vulnerable; fishing will be available in the reservoir from boat and shore; and access restrictions in place during construction will be temporary. Fishing will change, but opportunities will remain. Hunting and trapping will be disrupted by construction, but not prevented… (BCH, 2014a, 236).

As concluded in the EIS, therefore, effects on hunting, trapping, and fishing will occur, but will not be significant (BCH, 2014a, 237). BC Hydro did find that the adverse effect on “certain

Aboriginal group’s [sic] cultural use of land and resources” would be significant at three high- value cultural sites along the Peace River which were used for teaching, gathering and other purposes (BCH, 2014a, 237, 242, 249). (The Joint Review Panel, however, concluded that BC

Hydro had underestimated Site C’s potential negative effects on First Nations’ use of land (JRP

2014) (see Chapter 8).)

For all the sympathy that representatives had shown to distraught farm owners, in the final submission BC Hydro was equally unconcerned by the potential inundation of agricultural land. Recognizing that agricultural land would be “lost to the Project,” the document asserted that “many opportunities to improve or enhance agricultural production in the region” exist

(BCH, 2014a, 287), and an agricultural compensation fund could offset negative impacts on agricultural production and economies; thus the Project would not have a significant net impact on agriculture (BCH, 2014a, 274). Further, BC Hydro considered that evidence did not show that the flood reserve had “stunted” agricultural development in the region; they argued that the underdevelopment of horticulture in the valley was attributable to economic factors other than the flood reserve (BCH, 2014a, 279). 298

For Site C opponents who read the Closing Submission in detail, it is likely that their sense that “they say, ‘we hear you,’ and nothing changes” (see Chapter 6) would be reinforced, and that their frustration that BC Hydro “always had the last say” would be fueled. Those who did not would nevertheless understand BC Hydro’s unchanged final conclusion, that

“while the Project has the potential to result in some significant residual effects, they are justified by (1) the public interest served by delivering long term, reliable electricity to meet growing demand, (2) the employment, economic development, ratepayer, taxpayer, and community benefits that would result, (3) the ability of the Project to meet this need for electricity with lower [greenhouse gas] impact than other resource options (4) the limited footprint of the project, given it [sic] generation capability…; and (5) the honourable process of engagement with First Nations and the potential for accommodation of their interests” (BCH, 2014a, 12).

The fact that BC Hydro actually captured Site C opponents’ concerns in detail in both the EIS and the Closing Submission only reinforced the message that “we understand the consequences of this project and we think it is worth it.”

9.6 Conclusion

I have emphasized in earlier chapters that the consultation and environmental assessment process was fundamental to the justification of Site C. Yet the procedural and “philosophical” failures of Canadian EA processes to uphold First Nations rights and needs have been recognized in scholarly literature for decades (Booth & Skelton, 2011b). And the Site C process not only included many of these known weaknesses, but because the proposed project was so large, and because a Crown corporation was the proponent, the potential consequences were unusually extensive, the documents to be reviewed were unusually copious, and the structural imbalance between proponent and both Indigenous and non-Indigenous opponents were particularly significant.

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Although the process appeared accommodating on the surface, some participants felt embattled, because the underlying structure was violent. Opponents of Site C were protesting a project with the backing of a pro-development government through the only official channel available. Many of them were overstretched employees of First Nations, or lay volunteers, contesting materials produced by full-time professionals, on timelines that did not work for them, in terms that often did not reflect their values or worldviews, while simultaneously engaging in numerous similar processes. They used their own money, private donations, or capacity-funding in amounts allocated by the proponent/government to challenge a proponent with liberal, if not unlimited, access to public funds. The scope of the process excluded issues, such as treaty infringement and cultural and spiritual matters, of key concern to them. The proponent, despite the expressed desire to “work together” made the minimum legally required concessions.

Though opponents had many opportunities—sometimes experienced as demands—to participate, their input had little effect on the outcome.

As a result, the people most affected by the proposed project were denied equitable influence regarding the distribution of natural resources. While this denial and its effects were particularly profound for First Nations, due to their special legal relationship with the Crown, and their relationship with their traditional territory, all participating opponents experienced the consequences to a greater or lesser extent: money, time, and effort diverted from other personal and community projects, and the psychological and spiritual pain of a process that solicited their emotional stories but dismissed their arguments.

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Discussion and Conclusion

10.1 Conflict Transformation and Anthropology

This dissertation originated with an aspiration for a better approach to environmental conflict resolution, such that those with strong feelings need not resort to dumping sewage to express their frustrations. A conflict transformation approach appeared promising, but lacked attention to the cultural factors so fundamental in the definition and pursuit of conflicts, particularly environmental conflicts. Ethnography, on the other hand, offers insights into these cultural factors, but has rarely been applied to addressing, rather than describing, conflicts. Could a deliberate combination of the two generate useful new understandings?

To find out, I lived for over a year in Fort St John, conducting an ethnography of the conflict over the controversial Site C dam proposed a few kilometres from the town. I participated in community life as best I could, as well as attending Site C-related events. I conducted semi-structured interviews, along with key word and photo-prompt exercises, with

Site C supporters and opponents. In addition to attending many of the public hearings, I read all the transcripts, and analysed a selection, supplemented with documents from the Site C

Environmental Impact Assessment process. I wanted to know what a focus on the interface between the parties to the contentious issue would uncover regarding the beliefs, values and assumptions underlying the arguments of rural residents and landowners, First Nations, and BC

Hydro. How did Site C supporters and opponents differ in their understandings of proper human behaviour towards others and toward the environment? What perspectives did they share? Could understanding these differences and commonalities contribute to constructive solutions? What power dynamics affected the conduct of the conflict, and the outcome?

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I found that anthropology and conflict transformation are in many ways complementary, even overlapping. The concept of “worldview” (as Docherty (2001) uses the term) and a nuanced view of culture are virtually synonymous. Conflict transformation contributes a prescriptive orientation and suggests the importance of considering the perspectives of multiple conflict parties equally, as well as the interactions between them. The attention to

“content/context/system” that defines conflict transformation (Lederach, 2003, 12) supplies a simple but comprehensive framework for open-ended ethnographic research, a guide for the examination of culture in societal context which is also typical of anthropology.

Anthropology, on the other hand, provides abundant descriptive analysis of environmental conflict in cultural or worldview terms. At the same time, emic ethnographic approaches are ideal for eliciting a subtle understanding of the interplay of worldview, history, and structure in a particular conflict. Anthropologists are also equipped to work with the

“potentially limitless” diversity of worldviews (Davidheiser 2008, 77) that may arise and interact in conflict.

In the conflict over the Site C dam, the combination of a conflict transformation framework with cultural immersion proved rewarding, despite its complexities. Notwithstanding my own partial perspective and asymmetrical information gathering (as described in the

Introduction), deliberate, double-sided ethnography and close attention to systemic context, in combination with non-confrontational outlets for hearing people’s thoughts, produced insights that had not otherwise surfaced. I found that very different relationships to environment and place, and different notions of development were reflected in communication at the EA public hearings. Drawing on Conley and O’Barr’s work on communication styles in legal settings and

Merry’s analysis of “quantification,” I also found that bureaucratic rationalistic discourse lent 302

official Site C proponents a deceptive objectivity, making opponents appear unduly emotional and biased, while Li’s notion of “rendering technical” highlighted the way that technical discourse served to depoliticize concerns about the project’s impact. Furthermore, the concepts of structural and cultural violence (Galtung, 1969, 1990), which are both foundational to PACS and well-integrated into anthropology (Farmer, 1997; Scheper-Hughes & Bourgois, 2004b), exposed the violence of the official decision-making process and highlighted the violence of hydroelectric development, particularly against Indigenous people, and the contingent, chosen nature of social structures and processes that repeatedly disadvantage the same groups of people.

10.2 Consultation as Structural and Cultural Violence

I set the scene for the Site C conflict in Chapter 2 by describing the contrast between the tranquil outdoors and the utilitarian, industrial city, and the diverging views on industrial development. Some condemned industry for its negative effects on their lives and the land they loved. They saw it causing social stresses and inequalities that led to suffering and even violence, particularly against Indigenous women. They believed that the vitality of the land had already been nearly destroyed, and that Site C would be the last straw. Regional leaders promoted the area’s fast-growing industry, however, and for many, it represented excitement and opportunity—financial, career, lifestyle—which they believed could co-exist with the outdoor paradise that they also valued. They were optimistic that Site C would bring additional benefits that would outweigh any drawbacks.

I argue that environmental conflict analysis must take into consideration the worldview of this sometimes—disregarded group—established non-Indigenous residents who see no contradiction between resource development and the outdoor lifestyle that attracts them to the area, and in Chapter 3 I probed more deeply into “feelings for the land,” particularly those of Site 303

C supporters. A photo-prompt exercise revealed their familiarity and intimacy with the land around them, and the extent to which their daily realities, family lives, and identities were integrated with it; yet they often welcomed development. Although their sense of the land’s vulnerability was different from those of many Site C opponents, these are not the stereotypical outsiders who inflict development on land they know or understand nothing about.

Site C would uphold its supporters’ vision of progress, as I showed in Chapter 4.

“Properly” implemented, according to modern technology and subject to modern regulations and standards, supporters believed, Site C would allow for continued economic growth and sustain progress without exacerbating climate change, with fewer impacts than previous hydro projects.

In addition, it would be long-lasting, as well as cost-effective and financially self-supporting, important elements of sustainability in their view. Furthermore, they believed it was a moral obligation for those with access to resources to put them to use for the good of humanity, to increase quality of life and to channel human energy constructively, so that scarcity and lack of purpose would not lead to disorder. Any resulting transformations to the environment were part of a natural cycle of perpetual evolution, in their view. Humans therefore had every right to make such changes to suit their purposes, while minimizing as much as possible the impacts that are the unavoidable result of human activity. The loss of agricultural and wildlife habitat to inundation was therefore not significant in the greater scheme of things, they argued; it even offered benefits, such as recreational opportunities and wildlife habitat enhancements.

These beliefs, which had “motivational force,” as competing “stories about how the world is and how it should be” (Blechman et al., 2000, 24) collided with those of Site C opponents, who rejected the concept of progress, seeing much industrial development, particularly, Site C, as a “loss” and “waste,” rather than a wise use of resources. Their view of 304

sustainability emphasized, neither incremental reductions to environmental impacts nor financial considerations, but limiting development and consumption to a level that would allow natural systems to regenerate. Unlike Site C opponents, they believed that natural ecosystems were superior to anything humans could create, and while humans could damage these natural systems that support them, as well as other organisms, they could not enhance, restore or reproduce them.

They considered food production a more pressing challenge than the production of electricity to power economic growth, fearing the possible breakdown of civilization as a worst-case consequence of food insecurity. Thus, to them it would be immoral to destroy the Peace Valley, with the biodiversity it fostered, and its food-growing potential, particularly when better, cheaper renewable technologies existed.

Their sense of right relationships to the environment and among humans, grew, I believe, from their own attachment to the valley as long-time farmers and ranchers, fishers, hunters, and recreationalists. For the most dedicated Site C opponents, the valley was home, a social as well as physical place, where Site C’s impacts would be felt personally. The Peace Valley specifically, not just land in general, was “part of” the residents who cherished it, because of its particular attributes—its beauty, its spiritual “something,” its recreational appeal—combined with their own personal, family, and cultural histories.

These competing worldviews, with their differing perspectives on environmental relations and conflicting ethics regarding the use of land and resources, bore directly on the Site

C conflict. The weighty ultimate consequences both supporters and opponents envisaged as a result of the decision to approve or abandon Site C motivated their positions. For supporters, failure to proceed with Site C would be a missed opportunity for the betterment of human life.

Forgoing too many such opportunities might eventually erode the progress humans had made 305

through civilization and technology. For opponents, approving Site C would also contribute to a threat to order and civilization—by threatening food security and the ability to live well in an intact ecosystem. Furthermore, the dam would be an especial affront to the “well-being” and

“meaning” needs (Galtung, 1990, 292) of some valley residents, because of their strong attachment to place. At the same time, the prevalence in the region of a worldview that highly values economic progress, relying on technology and human restoration of nature to moderate environmental impacts, fostered acceptance of Site C and its violence.

Many opponents of Site argued that ecological limits were already being exceeded in the region due to this pro-development worldview. They spoke of existing industrial development, including the WAC Bennett dam, with its wide-ranging impacts, in terms of war and violation, and Site C as loss, destruction, Holocaust and rape. In Chapter 5, I applied Galtung’s concept of

“structural violence” (1969) and the emerging concept of extractivist “environmental violence”

(Konsmo & Pacheco, 2016) to both the Bennett and Site C dams, arguing that, as potentially affected regional residents recognized, Site C would repeat the violence of the Bennett Dam, in its inequitable distribution of benefits and harms and its violation of human needs. I described the insults to the “survival” and social and individual “well-being needs” (Galtung, 1990, 292) of the First Nations and some non-Indigenous residents of the area that were associated with the

Bennett Dam, and the insult to their personhood implied by its disregard for their needs and interests, and the slow and reluctant compensation. Its opponents believed that Site C would have similarly violent consequences. They feared it would jeopardize their survival needs by compromising their livelihoods and food security and by increasing rates of crime and physical violence. They feared it would damage their community well-being, by driving long-term residents out of the area and preventing the inter-generational transfer of Indigenous knowledge. 306

Like the Bennett dam, Site C would also disrupt their relationship to the land around them, including hunting and harvesting spots and sacred and culturally important places, hindering access to some and eliminating others altogether. It would disturb connections to ancestors and cultural knowledge embedded in those places as well as to the places themselves, leading to the violence of desocialization and loss of meaning. For First Nations, these alterations to the local conditions would impede their exercise of Treaty rights; they and non-Indigenous Site C opponents experienced an insult to their “identity” needs (Galtung, 1990, 292), feeling that, as with the Bennett dam, their rights and interests were again being sacrificed to benefit urban southerners via Site C.

Though there were parallels between the two dams, there were also important differences in the social context in which they were initiated, as I discussed in Chapter 6. In its time, the

Bennett dam apparently required little justification. Proponents touted the benefits of industrialization to drown out the few voices protesting the expense, the environmental damage, or the violations of the rights of First Nations and non-Indigenous residents. Closer examination, however, revealed the cultural violence that made the violence of the dam acceptable—a worldview that based entitlement to consideration and power on race and class, and a construction of the region’s inhabitants as insignificant in number, socially inferior, incapable of coping with modernity, and fated to give way to progress. This dehumanizing view allowed the province to pursue economic development and progress at their expense, and at the expense of a ravaged ecosystem.

Site C would take place in a different time, as supporters were fond of pointing out. Time had not changed the fundamental impacts of dams as it had changed attitudes to First Nations rights and to the environment, however, and a new and different form of justification that would 307

differentiate the new dam from the old was required. I argue that this justification took the form of the consultation and Environmental Assessment process. While the process was extensive and thorough, according to BC Hydro, and did meet some definitions of consultation, leading

Indigenous and non-Indigenous Site C opponents described it as inadequate, disrespectful, and inauthentic. Provincial government actions such as provisions of the Clean Energy Act and exemption of the project from BCUC oversight, as well as land purchases and new hires by BC

Hydro, strongly suggested that the government had already committed to Site C before consultations began, and opponents had no opportunity to reject Site C or recommend alternatives, as they wished to.

Nevertheless, both governments played up the consultation process in justifying Site C, stressing the “meaningful engagement” with the public, the 2-month hearing process, and the development of measures to accommodate First Nations’ interest. They neglected to mention the weaknesses of the process, however: that the Joint Review Panel that examined the

Environmental Impact Statement lacked time and resources to review economic aspects of the project to their own satisfaction, that they may also have reached erroneous conclusions regarding Site C’s potential greenhouse gas emissions due to lack of time, and that the Terms of

Reference the Crown provided to the Panel expressly prohibited them from concluding on whether Site C would constitute an infringement of Treaty rights, and that the question of Treaty rights was actually never officially considered. Furthermore, government and BC Hydro communications did not explain that the BCUC would normally have conducted an evaluation of the adequacy of the First Nations consultation process, but since the BCUC did not review the project, no independent assessment of this process ever took place.

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Neither did the governments and BC Hydro mention that where the process did lead to well-founded conclusions and recommendations, they ignored them. Despite its constraints, the

Panel had concluded that though Site C might be economically attractive over the long-term and low in emissions, its very serious impacts for the environment, First Nations, and other valley residents should give the government pause, particularly since the energy the dam would provide was not needed as early as BC Hydro claimed. It recommended that Site C should receive further review from the BCUC, if it were to proceed at all, a recommendation that the provincial government did not follow. In approving Site C, the governments did not provide detailed public justification of the social and environmental impacts.

Government and BC Hydro proponents of Site C used the consultation process to imply that Site C had been independently verified, and would constitute an ecologically sound, wise investment of billions of provincial dollars, and that First Nations and their treaty rights, along with local interests, had been accommodated. In reality, the process did not support these claims.

It served primarily, not to shape the decision, but to legitimate and obfuscate a decision that had already been made.

In Chapter 7, I considered the asymmetrical interactions at the public hearings. First

Nations and their anti-Site C allies opened with prayers, songs and the presentation of objects symbolizing what the valley meant to them. Locals who spoke against Site C employed a personal, locally grounded communication style, drawing their authority from their experience as valley residents. They gave emotional and image-rich, sometimes multi-sensory, presentations, blending argument and personal observations with stories and memories that explicitly connected themselves and their families to specific Peace Valley locations. BC Hydro representatives, all of whom had flown in for the hearings, on the other hand, described the use 309

of a computerized “System Optimizer” program to select Site C as the energy option of choice for the province. Taking credibility from their techno-rationalistic “objectivity” and scientific analysis, they maintained an even, undemonstrative demeanour in line with professional norms for institutional representatives in a public process.

This detached communication style, which included passive and abstract linguistic constructions at key points, made the project’s impacts less easy to visualize. Along with abstract, deductive arguments, it also hid the biases embedded in BC Hydro’s arguments.

Although efforts to remain neutral were likely not calculated, but simply professional habitus, setting the “objective” technocratic viewpoint up as a disinterested judge of reality, above controversy, automatically made dissenting viewpoints and those without bureaucratic habitus appear partial and subjective. It also represented the project as the natural, self-evident best option for the public good, thereby constructing its opponents as special interests, while deflecting individual or corporate responsibility for the decisions and choices behind it.

Meanwhile, the purportedly unbiased technical analysis concealed the historical, cultural, and political presuppositions and judgements embedded within it. The analysis ignored spiritual and cultural matters, and portrayed economic growth as a universal good, although the benefits are not allocated, or even desired, equally. Yet the scientific, objective label helped governments to justify the project. Though rigorous science can be important to sound public decision- making, when its limits and partial perspective are recognized and other modes of knowing are acknowledged, in this case technical science was deployed, in combination with a pseudo-neutral bureaucratic communication style, in a culturally violent way, making the proponents appear as unbiased advocates of an objectively positive project, and masking the enormity and violent reality of the project. 310

In Chapter 8 I explored contrasting views of the environment expressed through discussions of environmental and cumulative environmental impacts and mitigation and compensation plans at the public hearings. The Environmental Assessment process concentrates on a project’s effects on “Valued Components” of the human and biophysical setting, considering cultural, spiritual, social, environmental, and economic impacts as discrete and quantifiable. Speakers against Site C, however, insisted on seeing the Valley as a whole, an interdependent human and environmental system, not a collection of components. Instead of regarding Site C in isolation, they saw it in the context of past, present and future development.

Thus, where BC Hydro argued that their project should only be evaluated based on the specific impacts it would cause, not on existing or other potential environmental damage, critics considered it in the context of past, present, and future development, including existing dams on the Peace River and intensive, expanding oil and gas development. BC Hydro calculated cumulative effects starting in the present and looking forward, not accounting for industrial impacts that have already taken place. They measured only cumulative effects that specifically overlapped with other projects’ effects on the same Valued Components, in the same region.

Considering total environmental stressors—past, present, and future—made more sense to Site C opponents, however.

Similarly, while BC Hydro put forward mitigation and compensation measures, such as wetlands enhancement, as a valid strategy to reduce the negative consequences of a project they defended as necessary and beneficial, critics not only doubted the genuineness and technical feasibility of these measures, but challenged their underlying logic—a view of ecosystems as made of interchangeable, replaceable parts, not complex interconnected systems. They refused the notion of monetary compensation for the loss of sacred, beloved places, and rejected plans 311

that depended on human ability to improve or even recreate ecosystems, or that they believed were designed to replicate individual ecosystem functions but missed their essence.

The process, however, did not explicitly recognize this worldview gap, or allow for worldview negotiation; that is, there was no recognition that two worldviews were in competition, and no attempt to reconcile them. Thus, Site C opponents, with their relational view of the environment, could only challenge the dominant “frame narrative,” (Docherty, 2001, 67) the functional view established by the EA framework, unsuccessfully, from a subordinate,

“alternative” position. Narrow calculations of cumulative impacts therefore understated the gravity of the dam’s potential impacts, and mitigation and compensation plans, even if not terribly convincing, allowed proponents to claim that the effects of the project could be kept within tolerable limits, or neutralized with money. More generally, focusing the discussion on

“fixable” questions regarding how impacts could be mitigated by technical means, or “rendering technical” (Li, 2007, 7) forestalled politico economic questions about resource allocation.

Ultimately, a view of the environment as consisting of detachable, replaceable components functioned as cultural violence, supporting the idea that Site C’s potential impacts could be isolated, compartmentalized, and contained through technical measures, downplaying their severity and making the project easier to justify.

Site C opponents who participated in the consultation and Environmental Assessment process recognized its underlying violence, however, and this recognition was reflected in their language at the public hearings. As I described in Chapter 9, where BC Hydro representatives were hyper-polite and coolly respectful, expressing gratitude for all views shared, Site C opponents were vehement, seeing themselves in a battle for survival against a project that threatened their history (by flooding heritage sites, sacred places and ancestral graves), and their 312

future livelihoods and cultural existence. They were well aware that, as in most EA processes, the proponent enjoyed considerable advantages, and that these were all the greater in the case of

Site C, with the provincial government the initiator of the project, as well as the decision-maker.

These advantages were discursive and political, as well as material. Not only did the process pit lay people and small First Nations’ staffs with limited financial resources and multiple priorities against a deep-pocketed organization with ample well-resourced, full-time, professional personnel, but BC Hydro’s financial control of the process allowed them to frame its terms, setting consultation procedures and some timelines, selecting Valued Components, research topics and methods, and making provisional determinations of significance. A techno- rational worldview, often at odds with those of Site C opponents, prevailed, and important concerns, such as cultural and spiritual matters, were sidelined. Moreover, Crown actions to influence the process—appointing no Indigenous or local Joint Review Panel members, excluding its own obligations under Treaty 8 from the Panel’s terms of references, and removing

Site C from BCUC oversight—were concerning in light of its conflict of interest as proponent and decision-maker. In line with the general dominance of a narrative that saw conservation as getting in the way of the unquestionable, universal good of development, the process did not require the proponent to demonstrate how the project conformed to a positive vision for the region. Instead, the onus lay on opponents to prove that the project would be too harmful to go ahead, an endeavour that had rarely been successful with other projects.

BC Hydro’s final written submissions, in which they refuted critics’ arguments, and put forward a narrow interpretation of Treaty rights contrasted notably with their expressions of sympathy for affected residents at the public hearings. Participants often felt that in exchange for their personal sacrifices of time, money, and effort, BC Hydro was simply “going through the 313

motions,” a feeling they also had with other EAs. They participated because there was no other official forum in which to register their dissent, but this repeated experience became wearing and traumatic, especially given the serious and personal consequences if their opposition was not successful.

The frustration and even anguish opponents expressed concerning the Site C consultation and EA process pointed to the structural violence of the process, and I argue that this took four forms. First, it supported authorization of a violent project, one that would result in the unequal distribution of the benefits and harms of resource exploitation. Second, as Galtung has observed, structural violence is present not only when resources are unfairly distributed, but when decision- making processes regarding resource distribution are themselves unfair, as was clearly the case here (Galtung, 1969). Third, the process enforced a particular worldview, in that participants had to engage either with or against the techno-rationalistic terms of the process, and therefore were required to speak, act, and to some extent think, in scientifically and bureaucratically legible modes. Finally, parts of the process were painful and disempowering for some participants; it impinged on their psychological well-being. Soliciting input from affected people, only to prioritize the “common good” over their concerns sent the deeply violent message that their needs, rights, and cultures could be sacrificed. This violence was particularly grievous because the Site C process not only partook of, but enlarged on, failures of Canadian EA processes

(particularly regarding First Nations’ rights and interests) that have been well-established, but not addressed, for many years.

Site C proponents insisted that Site C would not be like the Bennett dam, which BC

Hydro now acknowledges was “a terrible stain on the history of the province.” The President of

BC Hydro, quoted in Chapter 6, maintained in 2017 that Site C would not repeat the mistakes of 314

the past; for one thing, there had been “many, many years of consultation and engagement”

(BCH, 2017a). That consultation, however, arguably demanded more from the First Nations consulted, and from other Site C opponents, than it offered. Proponents and regulators, not participants, determined the terms—how the process would unfold, the topics that would be considered, and how they would be discussed—and they omitted key issues, such as Treaty rights. Refusing Site C was not a possibility. Yet the “consulters,” not the “consultees” declared the consultation “adequate.”

The BC Hydro President went on to note that “we have six agreements with Treaty 8

First Nations for the Site C project that include benefits for communities, and commitments to procurement” (BCH, 2017a). He did not note, though, that the provincial Conditions for Site C approval list 11 “Aboriginal groups…which are in closest proximity to the Project Activity Zone and maybe [sic] affected by the Project” (BCEAO, 2014b, 1). Nor that the first of the mentioned agreements was signed in summer 2015, approximately half a year after the project was approved, just as construction was starting (BCH, 2015). The fact that the project was approved with no agreements with First Nations in place not only suggests that First Nations were not particularly eager to sign up for Site C, but also speaks to the importance the Crown placed (or did not place) on Indigenous consent.

Finally, as mentioned in Chapter 6, the BC Hydro President contrasted the “limited” environmental standards at the time the Bennett dam was constructed with present requirements, citing the “150 very strict conditions imposed on the construction” of Site C (BCH, 2017a). As shown in Chapter 8, however, while some of these conditions (based on BC Hydro’s mitigation and compensation plans) might be effective and worthwhile, others are of dubious value and too vague to be enforceable. Furthermore, regardless of these mitigation measures, BC Hydro itself 315

acknowledged that Site C would have “significant adverse residual [i.e., unmitigable] effects” on four Valued Components62 (BCH, 2013d, 34), while the Joint Review Panel concluded that there would be significant adverse effects on fish, fish habitat, wetlands, rare plants, “Vegetation and

Ecological Communities,” and numerous species of birds, butterflies, bats, and amphibians, and in particular, migratory birds dependent on valley bottom habitat would experience “permanent” losses that “cannot be mitigated” (JRP, 2014, 313). Effects on First Nations’ hunting, fishing, trapping, and other traditional uses of the land would also be adverse and significant, and, again,

“some of these effects cannot be mitigated” (JRP, 2014, 315). Likewise, the effects on “physical heritage”—paleontological, archaeological, and historical sites—and on “cultural heritage,” or places of significance to First Nations, Metis, and non-Indigenous Canadians would be “adverse” and “significant” (JRP, 2014, 321, 238). Site C would also render unusable a substantial amount of high-quality agricultural land. The Panel also recognized that for local farmers, Site C would cause “highly significant losses” that could not be made up for monetarily. (Its conclusion that the effects on agriculture would not be significant in provincial or regional context was based more on the economics than the biology of food production) (JRP, 2014, 149).

In sum, though voluminous, the consultation and Environmental Assessment process did not prevent an environmentally devastating and economically questionable project. It did not increase affected people’s control over the outcome or allay the violence it would do to people who live in and love the Peace Valley. Instead, cultural violence, that resonated with some local

62 “A determination of significance was made [by BC Hydro] for… Fish and Fish Habitat… Wildlife Resources… Vegetation and Ecological Communities… Current Use of Lands and Resources for Traditional Purposes” (BCH, 2013d, 34). 316

understandings of nature and what is important and right about human uses of nature, was built into the process and made the project look reasonable.

10.3 Contributions, Dilemmas, Questions

In this study, I used an ethnographic approach in the service of conflict analysis and transformation. Through long-term participant observation, interviews and elicitive exercises, and documentary research, I strove to understand the interaction of competing worldviews in structural context in an environmental conflict. This combination of double ethnographic focus with attention to power dynamics is rare; most of the few existing double-sided ethnographies of environmental conflict (Farrell, 2015; Hirsch & Dukes, 2014; Satterfield, 2002) acknowledge the importance of power, but concentrate on cultural contests. In my analysis, however, like

Nadasdy (2003) and Irlbacher-Fox (2009), who studied wildlife co-management arrangements and land-claims negotiations respectively, I have foregrounded power dynamics in the cultural and discursive conflict over Site C. This approach has allowed me to make an ethnographic contribution regarding non-Indigenous perspectives on the environment and extractive industry, as well as to explore the connection between worldviews and the structural and environmental violence manifested in environmental assessment and consultation. It has both revealed the gravity of this violence and challenged the notion that structural violence is necessarily unnoticed. My findings also allow me to comment generally and tentatively on the complications and promise of blending anthropology with conflict transformation.

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10.3.1 Ethnography of Environmental Violence

This study of worldviews in interaction over Site C contributes to ethnographic understanding of non-Indigenous residents’ relationships to the environments where they live and to the expansion of extractive industry. Although literature regarding Indigenous resistance to industrial development in their territories is well established, as discussed in Chapter 4, consideration of why non-Indigenous residents resist, or especially, support, industry in their

“backyards” remains relatively thin. My research delved into these reasons; juxtaposing pro- and anti-Site C viewpoints from interviews and hearing transcripts illuminated important differences in perspective.

Non-Indigenous opponents of Site C associated excessive resource extraction (Site C being the most egregious example in their minds) with environmental degradation and social suffering. They considered it a primary threat to long-term human well-being, and an offence against nature, and therefore a spiritual and moral wrong. Because of these beliefs, and their specific connections to the Peace Valley, it was personally painful for them to witness the environment being “wrecked.” Some of Site C’s potential violence derives from these beliefs and connections; the inundation of the valley would harm these affected residents, as well as affected

First Nations, in ways that those who could not understand their attachment might not imagine.

For supporters of Site C and residents of the region I interviewed, on the other hand, resource extraction, when carried out according to modern standards (as they believed Site C would be), contributed to progress and was critical to the economic and general well-being of humanity; it could even be, in some sense, an expression of human creativity. They were not overly worried by the impacts of development, believing that technical improvements and regulations could keep them within the bounds of naturally occurring environmental change. For 318

them, resource extraction was not only compatible with maintaining the region as a healthy and appealing place to live, but necessary to sustaining functioning communities. These findings suggest that support for Site C, and by extension, extractive industry, is not merely instrumental or self-interested. Beliefs about sustainability and the human role in environmental change, and moral assumptions about what humans owe each other and what they owe nature were drivers of arguments both for and against the dam. They also suggest that the stereotypical dichotomy whereby outsiders who do not know the land or live with the consequences of development, impose it on the unwilling insiders who do, does not always apply.

In fact, support in the region was essential to the implementation of Site C. The provincial government put it forward knowing that the majority of voters would approve of it; moreover, the pro-development worldview provided a footing for the culturally violent justifications of the project. The priority Site C supporters placed on progress and economic growth, and on financial stability over ecological limits, allowed BC Hydro to present Site C as rational and prudent, despite its substantial environmental and human impacts, by arguing that it was both cost-effective and necessary for the provincial economy. Supporters accepted that any project would have impacts; BC Hydro’s responsibility was only to reduce them to the best of its ability. The belief that technological improvements and better regulation permit consumption to continue at the current rate without overstraining natural systems, combined with confidence in the human capacity to enhance or restore ecosystems, enabled BC Hydro to downplay the consequences of the project through a focus on “mitigation measures.” Malin argues that when assessing the risks and benefits of leasing their land to gas companies, small-scale farmers in

Pennsylvania draw on “neoliberal” discourse to normalize impacts the impacts of gas production and rationalize their decisions (2014). One could equally argue the reverse, however; in this case 319

these project justifications had purchase because they were rooted in local beliefs and values.

Site C was politically attractive because it was not foisted on the region by outside corporations or politicians, but made sense to many residents, even those who knew the effects of extractive industry first-hand.

Many, then, were predisposed to support Site C, and the fact that a consultation and

Environmental Assessment process had taken place reassured them that it was an appropriate project, and that it would be constructed with the minimum impacts possible; most did not inquire too closely into the details. To critics, potential critics, and to themselves, however, BC

Hydro and the provincial government could honestly claim that they had thoroughly studied the impacts and the alternatives and accommodated affected people as well as could reasonably be expected. It was difficult for critics to argue with 27,000 pages of “justification” for the project.

The question is, what questions did those 27,000 pages answer? As the PVEA President emphasized in Chapter 6, the consultation process neglected “the most important question…[I]s the proposed Site C project actually needed? And is it the best option?” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013j,

48). Neither did the process address whether the benefits and harms due to Site C would be fairly distributed. Instead, the detailed technical discussions over Site C’s implications call to mind

Dara Culhane’s analysis of the Delgamuukw Aboriginal Title case. She points out that at the heart of the case lay simple questions with simple, yes/no answers—whether Aboriginal people were present in organized societies on the land in question before Europeans arrived, whether they had ever surrendered or lost their land, whether colonization was legal or morally just according to historical or current standards. (Yes, No, No, unless Aboriginal people are categorized as less than fully human). Yet increasingly elaborate legal tests to establish

Aboriginal title and rights in the previous twenty years required ever more detailed research, 320

until the Delgamuukw trial cost millions of dollars and lasted for months; Culhane argues that

“continually rewriting the questions, redefining the qualifying tests, and reinterpreting what constitutes correct responses, has substituted for a just answer to these questions” (1998, 117).

Similarly, questions regarding Site C were at root very simple. Is the Peace Valley covered by Treaty Rights? (Yes.) Would Site C significantly and adversely affect the exercise of

Treaty Rights? Agriculture in the Peace Valley? Wildlife? Given that the valley would be under water, the answer to these questions, according to everyday logic, can only be “yes.” “Rendering technical,” however, changed the answer to “yes, but…” and allowed the process to wander down tributaries and sub-tributaries of detail and argument. “Yes, but what exactly would those effects be?” “Yes, but we can mitigate.” “Yes, but some of those effects will not really be due to

Site C only.” “Yes, but it will be worth it.” Effects that were significant in everyday terms could avoid being deemed “significant” according to a restricted (and opaque and arbitrary) technical definition. Focusing on details—which areas and species would be most affected and how these effects might be mitigated—distracted from bigger questions of who loses from Site C, and who really benefits, and by what right.

At the same time, presenting energy and jobs as unquestionable universal benefits

(although not all would benefit or sacrifice equally), and treating the interests and values of First

Nations, environmentalists, and farmers as minority concerns worth (regretfully) sacrificing for the “common good” of “economical” and “clean” power masked the decision that was being made: to discount consequences for marginalized people once again. Moreover, conceptually and administratively separating Site C from the Bennett dam, by invoking the consultations to differentiate the two projects, by using a post-Bennett baseline for cumulative effects

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calculations, and by dividing negotiations over Bennett-related grievances from the Site C process, camouflaged the continuity of the current project with the historical offence.

The Site C consultation and Environmental Assessment process gave those who would be most affected by the project an opportunity to protest. Yet the process was structurally weighted in favour of the proponents and deliberately excluded opponents’ key concerns, such as Treaty rights. Opponents were also politically and discursively disadvantaged, with approval the default option for most projects, especially the government-initiated Site C, and with the proceedings occurring within a technocratic framework that dis-privileged their communication style and worldview, and downplayed the project’s potential impacts. For First Nations, the Site C process was foremost among a multitude of such processes in which they had to expend scarce time, resources, and mental effort justifying their existence to alien institutions, and not on their own terms. In resisting Site C, non-Indigenous people also felt that purportedly neutral administrative processes were stacked against them.

Numerous authors have recognized the inequities of Canadian EA processes; Baker and

Westman argue that by demanding participation in “emotionally draining” processes that ultimately fail to “register the dissent of those…most impacted,” consultation itself constitutes an

“extractive industry” (2018, 145), while Booth and Skelton describe the longstanding, unresolved failings of First Nations consultation as “institutionalized sociopathy” (2011, 395).

Anti-Site C participants in the Site C consultations, moreover, described not only the project but the process using the language of battle, suffering, and harm; the close ethnographic focus on interactions within a conflict transformation framework of this study has demonstrated that such consultation processes, are, in fact, violent.

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Participants’ language pointing to the violence of Site C also suggests a modification to notions of non-direct violence. Structural violence is often conceived of as being so normalized by cultural violence that members of the society in question, even the “objects of structural violence” may not perceive it as such (Galtung, 1969; Scheper-Hughes & Bourgois, 2004a).

Indeed, Galtung describes structural violence as “as natural as the air around us;” if direct violence is “ripples on otherwise tranquil waters,” structural violence “is the tranquil waters”

(Galtung, 1969, 173, original emphasis). This may hold true for the perpetrators of violence— recall, for example, the BC Hydro Vice President’s claim in Chapter 6 that BC Hydro and society of the 1960s “simply did not see” the violence of the Bennett dam (S. Cox, 2018, 111).

The sufferers, however, often do see, and protest, violence against them, but often to little effect, suggesting that the invisibility of violence lies not in what is seen, but in who is looking.

First Nations in British Columbia had been protesting occupation of their lands as soon as it occurred, with political organization regarding Aboriginal Title and treaties emerging as early as the late 1880s (Tennant, 1990), and by the mid-1950s, calls for land rights and compensation for the impacts of industrial development had gathered force (Nathan, 2009, 97). Specific effects of hydro-electric development on First Nations were also not unknown by the time construction of the Bennett dam began. In 1956 the Indian Commissioner of BC, at the urging of the Native

Brotherhood of BC, which had received many letters of complaint, appointed an official to examine the grievances of the Cheslatta Carrier Nation due to Alcan’s Kemano generating project and Ootsa Reservoir (Nathan, 2009, 95). The Indigenous newspaper, The Native Voice, which was “widely distributed to newspaper[s]…politicians, religious organizations, private societies and labour organizations” published a number of articles describing the dislocation of

Indigenous communities around the continent, and the “resulting political implications” (Nathan, 323

2009, 94); in 1957, it published an editorial calling hydroelectric power, among other forms of industrial development, “one of the greatest problems facing British Columbia’s natives,” referring specifically to the prospective Bennett Dam (in Nathan, 2009, 90) As construction of the Bennett dam was being completed, “alternative” newspaper The Georgia Straight highlighted outstanding legal land use questions in the province, for instance in a 1968 interview with anthropologist Wilson Duff, who pointed out that Aboriginal Title and rights had not been extinguished and remained legally and morally valid (“Fork the Forked Tongue,” 1968, in

Nathan, 2009, 101). In short, it was known, at least to political leaders, that First Nations claimed land rights that dams threatened (to say nothing of livelihoods and cultures). Thus, although there are few available records of exactly what the Tse Keh Nay themselves thought of the Bennett dam when it was first built, numerous voices had publicly made clear its impacts and its injustice, even if they did not explicitly name its violence. These voices, however, apparently did not register with the builders of the dam.

Several decades later, the consultation process for Site C gave First Nations and others who would be affected a venue to express their thoughts on the project, and they described vividly and in detail the harm it would cause them. As I have emphasized, their language reflected the violence they perceived in the project and the process itself. Speaking of the dam as destruction, as a violation and a trauma and of the consultations as a “legalistic war” and a source of pain, they demonstrated their recognition that Site C’s negative effects were not part of the natural order of things, but avoidable injury and a denial of their humanity imposed on them by other people—even if those people individually played small roles in a system they did not control.

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Furthermore, by 2007 when Site C became a (renewed) possibility, awareness of First

Nations’ rights and environmental issues had spread and “caught” among a much broader public than in the 1960s. Although Site C was initially not well-known outside the region, Site C opponents’ protests via the consultations, traditional and social media, and eventually legal actions and even civil disobedience, found a sympathetic and growing audience elsewhere in the province. Some of these sympathizers amplified local protests with their own campaigns, such as demonstrations, letters to newspapers and political representatives, and publications, pointing out the repercussions and the injustices of Site C, again, even if they did not explicitly label them as violence. It therefore cannot be said that “nobody sees” the potential impacts or the violence of

Site C.

In fact, the Environmental Impact Statement (BCH, 2013e) lays out the impacts of the project on people as well as the environment rather comprehensively. The official proponents of

Site C must therefore have been conscious of them as consequences of the project, but they placed a different weight on them than did opponents. For proponents, these technically

“significant” effects were not significant enough to warrant cancelling the project. The

“ungrounded” language (disconnected from actors acting in specific places with concrete results), and the attempted bureaucratic objectivity and value-free science built into the process, along with their faith in mitigation and compensation, helped them to avoid grasping the full import of Site C’s potential impacts, though they saw them clearly in individual detail. They could therefore maintain that, unlike the Bennett dam, this project would not be a stain on the province’s history, because, they claimed, Indigenous interests would be accommodated, environmental effects would be minimized as much as possible, and other affected people would be compensated. Any residual adverse effects were unfortunate, but not blameworthy, and 325

should not stand in the way of what they considered a worthwhile project. The violence of Site

C, then, was not invisible, but, once again, did not register with those whose worldview dominated. In many cases it is people who are not affected who “may be persuaded not to perceive [structural violence] at all” (Galtung, 1969, 173), while those who feel its effects understand it very well.

This study has documented ethnographically how affected people perceived and responded to the threat of extractivist violence through a public consultation process, and how cultural violence is implicated in that process, making socio-environmental impacts less compelling to proponents and observers. In so doing, it has pointed to the necessity of fundamental reforms to Environmental Assessment processes, that reduce structural imbalances, make space for and give greater weight to a wider range of perspectives and communicative norms, move the onus from opponents to proponents, and consider cumulative impacts on an eco-systemic basis.63 Further, this study has provided initial evidence for the complementarity of ethnography and conflict transformation and suggests the value of further research that examines competing perspectives in interaction within a power structure (corresponding to Lederach’s content/context/system (2003, 12)) for the anthropology of conflict. Explorations of non-

Indigenous perspectives and actions in conflict over extractive industry, especially, would fill a notable gap.

In addition, following the Native Youth Sexual Health Network (Konsmo & Pacheco,

2016), this study has foregrounded environmental violence as “real” violence, deserving of

63 Recent federal and provincial amendments to EA legislation offer improvements, but do not fully address these fundamental issues (see (Government of British Columbia, 2018b; West Coast Environmental Law et al., 2019) 326

attention from Peace and Conflict Studies. While PACS has examined the environmental impacts of war (Helfrich & Lynch, 2015), and the relationship between environmental degradation and

(in)security (Broadhead, 2019; see also Chapter 1.2.5 in this document), the field has yet to integrate environmental justice fully into a vision of “positive peace” (Galtung, 1969, 183). Yet as this study has demonstrated, extractive industry may have short- and long-term effects on well-being and survival of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities, in different, though overlapping, ways, and to different extents. Distinct from any armed conflict or state repression associated with it, extractive industry can itself be a source of meaningful material, social, cultural, and spiritual harms to individuals and collectives, that is, of violence.

Purportedly participatory processes that further traumatize dissenting participants extend and perpetuate this violence. Further work is required to apply the wealth of resources in conflict analysis and conflict process to these violent, though not bloody, environmental conflicts, that fall between “environmental disputes” amenable to Alternative Dispute Resolution, and the armed environmental conflicts that are more often a focus of PACS, and to incorporate them into the study of contemporary conflict and the pursuit of sustainable, just peace.

10.3.2 Transformation of Structural Conflicts

These findings also suggest both possibilities and dilemmas for anthropologically informed conflict transformation, making clear that prospects depend on the type of conflict.

Where the conflicting parties are relatively equal in power, the ultimate integration of ethnography and conflict transformation might involve the ethnographer (perhaps in partnership with a conflict specialist) working to mediate a solution. There is considerable potential for anthropologists to contribute to such culturally nuanced conflict facilitation. Despite the importance of worldview analysis and translation in conflict, these areas have been neglected, in 327

part because they are so intimidating for conflict practitioners. Worldviews are “messy,” spilling across identity boundaries (Blechman et al., 2000, 28); they defy standardized methods for training practitioners to work across them (Davidheiser, 2008). Anthropologists, however, have the conceptual tools and training to cope with the “dynamic and diffuse nature of worldviews,” and their emic, elicitive, ethnographic approach is well suited to the “replicable yet adaptive

[conflict transformation] practice modality” that Davidheiser suggests is the most “promising”

(2008: 79).

Non-linear, non-confrontational ethnographic instruments such as the Symbolic

Explorations of Value photo-prompt exercise, for example (Satterfield, 2001, and Chapter 3, this document), as my research demonstrates, offer tools for ethnographer-mediators to work with participants to surface and analyze previously undefined points of worldview contention and agreement. Although the exercise may unfold differently depending on the cultural context (and might benefit from being piloted before large-scale use), it proved to be a valuable avenue for directed, yet open-ended, probing of environmental perspectives. Where the aim is to uncover worldview differences and commonalities that bear on environmental conflict, but it is not clear where these differences or commonalities may lie, this tool draws on intuition and story to bring unconscious and inarticulate perspectives to the surface, comparatively quickly. Focused research investigating the use of such tools to facilitate learning about worldviews across lines of conflict would be a useful next step; the photo-prompt exercise, for example might be used in a focus group, in which representatives from both (or several) sides explore their own and others’ perspectives. Key questions to be answered are: Do such exercises actually promote mutual understanding? Can this work be done efficiently enough to contribute to live conflicts? (Rapid

Ethnographic Assessment approaches (Sangaramoorthy & Kroeger, 2020) might prove helpful in 328

this regard.) And, as Farrell has asked, does improved mutual understanding actually “make a practical difference to stakeholders” in conflict (Farrell, 2015, 260)? The assumption that greater awareness of opponents’ worldviews fosters conflict transformation is the basis for worldview translation, yet, as Docherty acknowledges (2001, 24), there is also the risk that clearer understanding will only make it “clearer to participants why they hate each other” (Ramsbotham,

2010, 80).64

In structural conflicts, where unequal power results in injustice, facilitation may not be applicable in any case, and this puts the transformation-minded ethnographer in a difficult position. According to Curle, mediation will not succeed in conflicts where power is highly unbalanced, because the stronger party has no incentive to compromise (Curle, 1986; in Avruch,

2013, 144, 157). In the Site C conflict, for instance, there seems to be little hope of engaging the provincial government—which is both project proponent (via BC Hydro) and decision-maker— in genuine dialogue. Neither does the pro-Site C public have much reason to engage, while Site

C critics are already overloaded. Thus, a facilitated process appears not to hold much promise or appeal for anyone, in any form.

If not facilitation, however, then what? Power is a “root problem” in conflict resolution, given the prevalence of power asymmetry in conflict (Avruch, 2013, 143), and one for which the field has yet to develop—perhaps cannot develop—any really satisfactory solutions. Authors and practitioners do, though, often suggest “empowerment” of the weaker party, inside and outside

64 If such facilitative efforts are appropriate in principle, practical questions arise regarding operationalizing them on a broader scale: Which institution would host, and pay, for them? At what stage? Who would participate and how would they be chosen? If research generates new understandings about the parties’ perspectives and needs, who wants to know? How will they be taken up by those who have the power to do anything about them?

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the resolution process (Avruch, 2013), with implications for the role of conflict specialists.

Burgess and Burgess for example, have brought forward the concept of “enlightened advocates,” who, rather than act as neutral mediators, work to empower the weaker party through their understanding of conflict processes (Burgess & Burgess, 1996). Although the “strong bias of the profession [remains] toward facilitation” rather than advocacy (Rubenstein, 2017, 145), suggests that the aim of systemic transformation requires greater political awareness and action on the part of conflict practitioners and even that in the presence of a “violence-generating system,” the practitioner is “obliged to recognize” its existence and to “practice her trade in a way that reflects this recognition” through participation in various forms of political advocacy (Rubenstein, 2017,

137).

This call to advocacy creates a quandary for the ethnographer of conflict, whose research participants span the issue, in trying both to draw on anthropology’s strengths to promote conflict transformation with justice, and, to respect their (the researcher’s) obligations to all participants. In general, “engaged anthropology” that includes activism for social change has a long history and is increasingly accepted within the discipline (Low & Merry, 2010). Yet, in practice, engaged anthropology continues to raise many dilemmas, and these are only intensified when double-sided ethnography is the goal. According to the current American Anthropological

Association’s Statement on Ethics (2012), when ethical obligations to colleagues, employers, donors, or research participants conflict, obligations to participants take precedence. I suspect that research participants’ interests are less homogeneous (and more often internally conflicted) than the Statement acknowledges; certainly, this is a given when the research design purposely includes participants who are in active, explicit conflict with each other.

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A commitment to consider the positions of competing sides symmetrically, may therefore actually rule out some types of engagement, including “activist research” as Hale defines it—that is, based on “political alignment with an organized group of people in struggle” (Hale, 2006, 97).

Besteman also considers collaboration to be a defining feature of engaged anthropology but, as she acknowledges, “collaboration with one group may imply or require opposition to another”

(Besteman, 2013, 3). Thus, collaborating with one group in conflict against their opponents might well preclude ethnographic research aimed at understanding and translating the opponents’ motivations. Double- or multi-sided ethnography similarly complicates attempts at researcher reciprocity; what I have to “give back” as a contribution to improving environmental conflict resolution in British Columbia may satisfy some of my research participants, but likely not those who are content with the status quo.

Inspired by the notion of worldview translation, my original intention was to produce an even-handed ethnography that would promote understanding, not evaluate or blame. I respect

Site C supporters’ right to their worldviews, although I have pointed out the links to cultural violence, and I appreciate that they shared them so generously with me, so in carrying out my analysis, I was acutely aware of Riesman’s concern that to take a moral stance is to “give up trying to understand the situation as a human reality” and concentrate only on changing it

(Scheper-Hughes, 1995, 416). In trying both to honor competing perspectives and to view their interactions in structural perspective, I walk a precarious line between being too critical (i.e., not sufficiently understanding the human reality—in this case, of Site C supporters) and not critical enough (i.e., failing in my analysis, and failing to speak truth to power).

BC Hydro has been tasked by society with the legitimate responsibility of “keeping the lights on” for the province, and I trust that many of the BC Hydro and provincial government 331

employees desire to contribute to society as best they can. And many Peace region residents honestly support Site C for its promised public benefits. On the other hand, although structural violence is the result of structural arrangements, not individual intentions, the notion has also been criticized for too little attention to individual agency (Rubenstein, 2017). An understanding of structural and cultural violence should not exclude accountability; structural arrangements are the cumulative result of individual actions, and they change only when individuals question and resist them. There has been ample evidence of the harms this project will cause, and the buck must stop somewhere. Furthermore, given the criticisms leveled against Site C from every angle, it is difficult not to wonder if political interests played a role in its approval.

I intended to take all parties’ accounts in good faith and to present what I heard, accepting logical inconsistencies and not imputing ulterior motives or looking for political manipulation.

Yet I cannot be certain that all parties were actually operating in good faith. Anti-Site C activists may have framed their arguments in the most advantageous way for their cause, but I am fairly sure that their motives were transparent. I have no way of knowing, however, whether institutional representatives and politicians were as candid and forthcoming as they seemed during our interviews. To what extent should I be holding their feet to the fire? Should non- judgmental listening/worldview translation mean turning a blind eye to questions of political economy, or even bad faith?

Thus, I am torn being my original intention to offer this work as a contribution to enhancing mutual understanding between Site C proponents and opponents, and the obligation to call out structural violence. My greatest fear is that I can do this kind of research only once; that after publishing a position, I will no longer be able to claim the neutral scholar role, which gave me the freedom to encounter holders of a variety of viewpoints on Site C without being pre- 332

identified with a particular constituency myself. This is a rare position to be in, and one that allowed me to make connections and gather material to which I might not have had access as an open supporter of either side. But perhaps these aspirations are not antithetical. To return to

Riesman’s concern, balancing the task of understanding human realities with that of striving for change on moral grounds, is the work of conflict transformation. The field is founded on the goal of understanding human viewpoints and motivations as a means of reducing violence and abuses of power. Mahmood’s (1996) study of Sikh militants demonstrates that an ethnographer can be sensitive— and in some ways sympathetic—to her interlocutors, and yet maintain a critical distance. Although she “can’t defend them,” she tries to “explain them,” in hopes of interrupting the spiral of terrorism and retribution (Mahmood, 1996: 266).

To me, the political advocacy for conflict transformation that Rubenstein (2017) calls for means making active efforts to understand and respect the worldviews and needs of all parties, while drawing attention to structural violence and working towards justice-based solutions.

Worldview translation, drawing on anthropology’s strengths in cultural relativism combined with political analysis, I believe, can thus be an important contribution towards just environmental conflict transformation.

*****

As the first public hearing session wound down, at the end of a day that started with drumming and prayers and ended with a technical back-and-forth on energy economics, the Review Panel

Chairman turned to BC Hydro, asking,

“… In this wonderfully technocratic decision process… how do you deal with the completely ineffable, the spiritual connection that's felt in the land by… people who fear the loss… of long-term multigenerational connections to 333

particular pieces of land that will be inundated… how in the choice of elements in a portfolio, in the sequencing of events in a system optimizer program, do you deal with that?”

BC Hydro seemed prepared for the question; the Vice President responded that the question was a “really important” one and that the process “does involve tradeoffs." In her view,

“we obviously believe that this is the right thing to do. But what's equally important is how we undertake this work… And so part of what we have tried to do as a project team is to understand that and to respect that and to hear from all voices to make changes where we can, to think carefully about how we mitigate, how we involve communities, how we do our First Nations consultation. Because we do recognize that there are effects… we understand that. People's sense of place. And so we work very hard at taking those things into consideration and to doing this project in a different way than what was done perhaps a couple of generations ago.”

“Thank you,” the Chairman responded, closing the day’s session, for “your advice on that because it's something the panel has to wrestle with, too” (CEAA/BCEAO, 2013a, 338).

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