Wet’suwet’en push forward on rights recognition

Tensions had reached a boiling point over a natural gas pipeline in northern British Columbia when a Wet'suwet'en hereditary chief said he made a phone call that changed everything.

Na'moks, who also goes by John Ridsdale, was among a group of hereditary chiefs whose opposition to the project on Wet'suwet'en traditional territory last year sparked demonstrations and rail blockades across Canada, and provoked debates about Indigenous rights and reconciliation.

He was on his way to Victoria to stand with Indigenous youth occupying the B.C. legislature steps when he called home as the new coronavirus spread across Canada.

“I thought we were making great strides,” Na'moks said in an interview.

“We made a few calls home and they said, no, you're coming home.”

Na'moks said he has been at home near Smithers ever since.

Very little seemed like it could draw attention away from the movement but a global pandemic met the threshold.

Nearly one year later, talks between the hereditary chiefs and the provincial and federal governments over a rights and title agreement are behind schedule but ongoing. With the pipeline excluded from the agreement, however, tensions remain poised to rise again as work continues and the consequences for both resource development and reconciliation hang in the balance.

“We're still in it,” Na'moks said. “It makes it difficult. Who expected a pandemic? But that doesn't mean we've stopped.”

THE COASTAL GASLINK PROJECT

National attention turned to a remote forest service road in northern B.C. after the B.C. Supreme Court granted Coastal Gaslink a new injunction against opponents who blocked the route to a work site.

It was the second time in two years that the company turned to the court and ultimately the RCMP to clear the path for its workers after it said attempts at dialogue were unsuccessful.

The 670-kilometre Coastal Gaslink pipeline was approved by the province and all 20 elected First Nations councils along its path to transport natural gas from northeastern B.C. to a processing and export facility on the coast in Kitimat.

However, Wet'suwet'en hereditary chiefs claimed the project had no authority without consent through their traditional system of governance, inspiring supporters across the country to act in solidarity. The hostilities diffused in March when the chiefs announced alongside B.C. and federal officials that they'd reached a tentative agreement setting terms to discuss rights and title.

They announced they would sign the agreement in April, opening negotiations over its implementation.

The chiefs were in their second or third round of consultations with community members over the agreement when Na'moks said the pandemic made it impossible to meet.

Talks with government officials have resumed virtually, but they're delayed by about a year, he said.

Although the pipeline is not part of the agreement, the Wet'suwet'en hereditary chiefs have a number of other areas of concern. They include full recognition of their jurisdiction over child wellness, water and 22,000 square kilometres of territory.

Na'moks said they want to be clear that the relationship is a nation-to-nation one.

“This in no way resembles any form of treaty, we're not here for a treaty,” Na'moks said.

‘OUR PEOPLE HAVE BEEN DIVIDED’

Some elected Wet'suwet'en council members who argued last year that they should be at the negotiating table remain disappointed that they're not.

Karen Ogen-toews, a councillor with the Wet'suwet'en First Nation, said the pipeline conflict exacerbated rifts within the community that still need healing. She believes the rail blockades meant provincial and federal officials signed under duress.

“Our people have been divided,” she said. “That needs to be dealt with before we can move forward as a Wet'suwet'en nation.”

The elected councils may be colonial constructs, she said, but it doesn't change the fact that they've played an important leadership role for decades and want the best for their people, too.

For Ogen-toews, who is also CEO of the First Nations LNG Alliance, signing an agreement with Coastal Gaslink was an opportunity to continue that work. Jobs on the project represent an opportunity to close the socio-economic gap between non-indigenous and Indigenous people, who face greater rates of poverty, unemployment, poor housing and poor health.

It doesn't mean she isn't critical of the company either.

“I think the procurement opportunities can be increased, can be better,” she said. “We don't want just the bare minimum. We would like more opportunities.”

Coastal Gaslink did not respond directly to a question about procurement opportunities.

But in a statement, the company said it is delivering significant benefits to Indigenous and local communities. To date, nearly $1 billion in contracts have been awarded, $875 million of which has been won by Indigenous groups or businesses, the statement said.

Until the governance question is sorted out, OgenToews said she believes the rights and title issue should come to halt.

“At the end of the day it's our people, it's our clan members, our band members who are the same people who will be impacted.”

WORK CONTINUES, AND SO DOES THE RESISTANCE

Work continues on the Coastal Gaslink project and opponents are still resisting, even if gatherings are prohibited under public health orders.

Molly Wickham, who also goes by Sleydo, is the spokeswoman for the Gidimt'en checkpoint, one of the camps along the forest road where Mounties arrested pipeline opponents in 2019 and 2020.

She said she never expected the Wet'suwet'en resistance to dominate the front pages of newspapers forever and has spent a lot of the past year thinking about more lasting change.

The answer she's landed on is “quite complex,” she said.

Occupying the territory is a major step. It's not only important for Indigenous people to reconnect with ancestral lands, but also adds weight to any arguments they make in Canadian courts, she said.

There's also strength in numbers. There's no way government would have agreed to negotiate had it not been for others, like Mohawk supporters who led rail blockades in Ontario, she said.

“I see it as a collective struggle,” she said. “Absolutely every situation is unique but we're all in this together.”